Zeroth awoke in the mage guild's sleeping chambers later than he usually preferred. As he stretched, groaning slightly, a peculiar energy thrummed through him, tingling beneath his skin – a feeling distinctly different from simple rested vigor. It seemed to pulse faintly from his back, where the Flaming Berserker lay beside his bedroll. He looked over at it, the obsidian surface seeming to absorb the morning light. He shivered, not from cold, but from the sudden, almost overwhelming surge of potential emanating from the weapon. It felt like a banked furnace, waiting.
He noticed Varic and Ardric's bedrolls were empty; they must have already headed down for food. Right, Zeroth thought, swinging his legs over the side of the cot, the usual morning aches strangely absent. Time to figure out what this thing really is. He grabbed the axe, the metal warm beneath his calloused fingers, and slid it into the holster on his back, the familiar weight settling against him. The energy surge seemed to calm slightly, as if acknowledging his intent. Zeroth rushed out of his room, foregoing his usual grooming routine, his fiery beard would have to manage its own chaos for now. He navigated the corridors with purpose, making a beeline for where he recalled Thalamar's quarters were located. Knocking firmly, he was relieved when the door opened, revealing the Archmage looking rather bleary-eyed and clutching a steaming mug.
"Pardon the early intrusion, Archmage Thalamar," Zeroth declared, perhaps a bit too loudly, gesturing energetically towards the weapon on his back. "But I nearly forgot to inquire about my... ah... interesting new axe. Woke up feeling like I swallowed a lightning storm."
Thalamar blinked, taking a slow sip from his mug, a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance warring on his face. He eyed the axe warily. "Feeling energized, are we? Very well." He sighed. "Let's head down to the secure workshop. The last thing we need is an ancient, likely cursed weapon causing 'unexpected surprises' in the main halls."
As they traversed the guild, the ambient magic buzzing around them, they spotted Ardric, Varic, and Tingle engrossed in a hearty breakfast at a communal table. Zeroth waved, pointing emphatically at his axe and then Thalamar. Understanding dawned, and with synchronized nods, the trio abandoned their meal to join the procession.
"Good morning, friends," Thalamar greeted them more warmly as they shuffled after Zeroth, Tingle practically vibrating with excitement. "Enjoying the Guild's provisions?"
"Absolutely," Ardric mumbled around his last bite.
"Tingle is very happy to be with new friends and explore magic!" Tingle added enthusiastically.
Upon reaching the designated workshop that was a large, rune-warded chamber designed for volatile experiments, Thalamar directed Zeroth to stand within a marked circle on the floor. "Alright, Zeroth. Let's see what this 'Berserker' can do beyond simply cleaving things. Show me something... special." With a mischievous glint returning to his eye, Thalamar conjured a large, shimmering ethereal blue pavise shield mid-air, its light painting the room in cool tones.
Zeroth stared at it, momentarily distracted. "That's probably the best-looking shield I've ever seen. Hope it's as tough as it is pretty." He hefted the axe, feeling its weight, the strange energy coiling within it. He held it aloft, paused, then lowered it uncertainly.
"Well... it's supposed to catch on fire," he mumbled, feeling slightly foolish. "Caught some bandits with it, and that big boar... but I haven't figured out how."
Thalamar raised a hand, arcs of crackling blue lightning dancing across his fingertips. "Control is often born from necessity... or reaction." His expression grew serious. "I have an idea, Zeroth, but steel yourself. This may not be pleasant." Before Zeroth could fully process the warning, Thalamar unleashed a controlled bolt of magical lightning directly at him.
Zeroth yelped, stumbling back as searing energy washed over him. But instead of burning pain, he felt the energy absorbed, drawn instantly towards the axe on his back. The weapon flared, not with orange flames, but with a consuming, hungry blue fire that seemed to drink the very light from the room. A low whisper, cold and ancient, brushed against the edge of his hearing: More.
Thalamar's eyes widened, not just in shock, but with a flicker of genuine arcane alarm. "By the Weavers... that's not natural fire." The blue flames wrapped around the axe head like living things, radiating an unnatural coldness despite their intensity.
Shaking off the disorienting energy surge, Zeroth grit his teeth. Fueled by instinct and a surge of power that felt both his own and other, he brought the axe down onto the ethereal shield. There was no clang of impact. The blue flames devoured the magical construct, the shield dissolving into shimmering motes of nothingness where the axe passed through, leaving behind a void that quickly dissipated. As Zeroth pulled his axe back, the unnatural blue flames slowly subsiding to a smoldering orange then leaving the obsidian dark once more, hummed with a low, resonant frequency.
Ardric, sausage forgotten, stared wide-eyed, swallowing hastily. "Gods below... That wasn't fire eating magic. It... it unmade it. Reminds me of that void creature we fought near Shadowfern, but... concentrated."
"Okay," Thalamar said, lowering his hands slowly, his usual confidence visibly shaken. "I yield. No more testing like that for now." He approached cautiously, examining the axe, then Zeroth. "That weapon is something far more complex, and frankly, terrifying, than mere enchantment. The flames... they didn't just burn the shield; they consumed its very essence. It seems to react to hostile magic, to danger, almost defensively... yet offensively."
Tingle, recovering from his shock, was practically vibrating, already scribbling frantically on a piece of parchment he'd produced from nowhere. "Consume magic! Anti-magic fire! Oooh! Tingle likes, Tingle likes! Does it store the energy? Can it redirect? Tell Tingle more!"
Zeroth, catching his breath, felt a grim satisfaction mix with a deep unease. The axe wasn't just a weapon; it was a predator of magic. He couldn't help but grin, despite the chilling implications.
Varic, who had observed the entire exchange with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, finally spoke, his usual skepticism tinged with genuine arcane curiosity. "Well, that was... illuminating. Definitely flashy. Highly effective against mages, I'd wager. But power that consumes like that... it rarely comes without a cost."
As the last shimmering motes of the shield vanished, Zeroth's mind raced. Consuming magic... sorcerers using dark rituals... A flicker of realization ignited. He turned sharply to Tingle, who was still muttering excitedly over his notes.
"Tingle! Last night, you mentioned a place, the Whispering Abyss Sanctum?"
Tingle snapped his head up, fascination momentarily replaced by a shadow of fear. "Oh, yes, yes! Tingle escaped from there! A very bad place, Zeroth. Full of nasty kobolds, doing dark things. Very scary, very dangerous!"
Zeroth's mind spun, connecting the dots. The sorcerers, the portal, the sacrifices... He turned to Thalamar, who was observing the exchange, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
"Thalamar," Zeroth began, his voice urgent, "we might have stumbled onto something far more sinister than we initially thought. Tingle escaped from this Whispering Abyss Sanctum. He mentioned kobolds involved in dark practices, kidnapping gnomes..." He described the portal ritual they had witnessed. "...And this axe," he gestured to the weapon, "it seems purpose-built to counter magic like that."
Thalamar's expression grew grave as Zeroth spoke. He stroked his long beard, eyes distant. "Whispering Abyss Sanctum... Kobold sorcerers performing forbidden rituals..." He paused, tapping a finger against his chin. "The name rings a faint bell... dark whispers the Guild investigated centuries ago, dismissed as paranoid rumors or minor hedge magic. But kidnapping... portal rituals... This is far more serious."
He paced for a moment. "If standard kobolds are involved, particularly in dark sorcery, there are few outside their circles who would have knowledge. Such sects are notoriously secretive." Thalamar stopped pacing, looking thoughtful. "I need to consult the archives, cross-reference the Sanctum name with records of known magical nexuses and any reports of unusual kobold activity. There might be mentions, old field reports..." He paused again, a different memory sparking. "Wait. There was a peculiar case decades ago. A defector seeking asylum, claiming knowledge of a hidden kobold stronghold involved in... disturbing practices. We dismissed her claims as exaggerated then." His eyes met Zeroth's. "Her name was Elara. A kobold herself, ironically. Last I heard, she settled in Alderbrook, a town two days east of here, trying to live quietly. If anyone knows the truth about this Sanctum, it might be her. Be warned, though," Thalamar added, his tone cautionary, "if she did defect from such a group, she's likely tough, resourceful, and deeply suspicious."
A shared sense of purpose solidified among the group. Alderbrook. Elara. It was their next step. The path ahead was uncertain, likely dangerous, but for the first time since finding the axe, Zeroth felt they had a concrete direction, a way to unravel the mystery that had begun in the dark woods.