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Read this file after completing "Forsaken Crypt"

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Stepping into the chamber beyond the door at the top of the cathedral tower, Logan found himself inside what appeared to be yet another tomb. Blue stained glass windows decorated the east and west walls, beams of moonlight shining through the west. Plaques of holy figures hung on the wall farthest from his vision. Between them stood a raised altar with twin columns stretching up to the ceiling. A lone metal urn, painted by many centuries worth of dust sat upon it. 

Judging from the journal he found in the cathedral, this was the tomb of his ancestor, the heroic wizard Lazarus. The man responsible for the creation of the elemental swords and ending the Wizard War. Logan reminded himself to be respectful. But unfortunately, another human presence within this chamber had no such honor.

Before the altar lay a lone casket upon a section of the floor built higher than its surroundings. The lid lay off to the right as if tossed aside. In front of the casket itself was another soldier of the Scourge, his hands inside the open casket as if searching for something.

Damn it! the soldier muttered. There must be something of value here! I didnt want to have come up here for nothing!

Disgustedly, Logan shook his head. The Scourge themselves had no respect for the dead. It was bad enough that they built part of their armies from the dead, but robbing the tombs was a step too far.

Aha! the soldier suddenly cries out triumphantly. Moments later Logan watches as the grave robber retracts his hand, clutching a dagger with an obsidian blade. Built into the center of the quillion above the blade is a magnificent pearl that gives off a faint sparkle in the moonlight. When we get back to Earth, this will be worth a fortune when I pawn it off!

There truly is no such thing as honor among thieves! Logan says.

Startled, the soldier reached inside his cloak for his weapon. Stand back traitor! he said whirling on his enemy. If theres one thing I learned from my arrest for graverobbing, its to carrying a gun in case you are taken by surprise.

Logan glared at his foe in recognition. This soldier was not amongst the squad that executed Katrina, but he was a Polish criminal who pursued a career in gravedigging instead of pursing an honest living. He had been known to enter a cemetery after midnight carrying a shovel and lantern, digging up the casket, and taking everything of value inside including jewelry, watches, even gold fillings in teeth. Once done, he would fill the grave with dirt again and leave as if nothing had happened. One grave per night was his schedule. His routine came to an end when he was finally arrested during one of his grave raids. People who visited the cemetery to pay their respects to loved ones had become suspicious upon seeing that the graves had been disturbed. While awaiting trial, he mysteriously vanished from his cell. No one knew what had happened, but Logan could only guess that he had been paid a visit by Garibaldi himself.

Having a gun didnt save your comrades below, said Logan. It wont save you either, or your soul! He put his hands to his hips with righteous indignation. Robbing a church will not put you in high regard to our heavenly father! And the spirits of the dead shall never rest as long as their treasures are stolen! Just be thankful youre not an Egyptian tomb robber.

The grave robber scoffed as he places the dagger inside his cloak for safekeeping. I never did believe in all that religious nonsense. And since I dont believe in ghosts or spirits, I have nothing to fear.

Hundreds of your comrades at arms have fallen before me! said Logan What makes you think you can take me down so easily?

And when I do, who knows? Perhaps there may be something of great value on your corpse!

As a matter of fact, said Logan as he reached into his pocket and took out the velvet box, I do. He opened the box, revealing the ring. The gravediggers eyes widened with awe as he stared with immense desire as if it was a beautiful woman. 
Its beautiful isnt it? It would have been her engagement ring if not for Revelin, Bellatrix, and the other three who have paid the price for that bloodshed. Sorrow and anger fought to claim control over his soul, sorrow was now winning. What is the value in lost memories and what could have been? For me, nothing. Anger made a quick comeback. If you want it, you can have it. But youll have to take it from my cold dead hands first!

So be it! the grave robber snarled. In the name of our founder, I shall paint this tomb with your blood!

Logan pulled out his Tommy Gun. And in the name of my ancestor Lazarus 
What happened at that instant was something beyond explanation to both men in the tomb. For that the moment Logan yelled the name of his ancestor, the crystal set within the ring began to shine like an holy figures halo. The surrounding air and the floor beneath became illuminated in pink light. The light spread like spilled water and filled the chamber itself as if the sun had just risen over the horizon, sparkling like hundreds of stars in the night sky. What sounded like the strings of a harp simultaneously being plucked repeatedly from left to right and back again.

Logan and his enemy were taken by surprise and stared in awe at what was happening. But what came next was beyond comprehension. The twinkling sparkles of light all fused together between the two men, forming the shape of a ghostly figure with a bearded chin and clad in what appeared to be armor composed of a combination of both steel and leather. As the twinkling lights joined together, the sounds of harp strings disappeared from his ears.

The ghost met Logans gaze and stared down at the ring by his feet. He lifted his head with pride and smiled with a nod. Logan realized he had nothing to worry about. Somehow this spirit understood that he was not an enemy.

Logan himself was a firm believer in ghosts thanks to having seen the spirits of the previous king and queen haunting the Iconoclast castle during the time of Garibaldis curse. Staring at his enemys widened eyes as the spirit turned to him, Logan smiled at the grim irony of the soldiers earlier statement of not believing in ghosts.

You were saying earlier? he asked with a smirk.

The gravedigging soldier quivered so violently with fear that he could barely keep a tight grip on his gun. As the ghostly figure slowly approached him, he backed away in terror, only to stumble backwards into the open casket, right on top of the skeleton. The horror of his predicament combined together with the feeling of bony fingers against his back finally pushed him over the edge. Screaming with terror, he applied pressure to the trigger. If the dead could laugh, that is exactly what the spirit itself would have done for the bullets themselves would have passed harmlessly through its form as easily as air.

If the soldier didnt believe in such a thing as karma, he did now. For when he fired his gun, the barrel itself was pointing at the metal urn upon the altar directly behind him. His screams pierced the air as the bullets ricocheted off its metal surface.

Seeing as his enemy was in no condition to fight, Logan put away his weapon and approached his fallen foe. The ricocheting bullets had already done their damage. The  shoulders and sleeves of the tunic were now stained with blood. The soldier was now clutching his bleeding face with one hand, whimpering in agony as the ghost stood over him with a glare of unforgiving scorn.

Please, he whined, spare me! Ill never rob another tomb as long as I live!
Logan shook his head disgustedly at his foes cowardice. Which wont be that long! He seized the grave robber by the front of his cloak and at the back of the neck. His foe whimpered pitifully.

Stop your whining! Logan shouted pulling the soldiers hand away from his bleeding face, allowing him to see the full extent of the damage done. Three bullets had bit into the skin above the eyes with blood flowing down his face, some of it into his eyes. Fighting down nausea, he forced his foes arms behind his back, ignoring his moans of pain. Now is not the time for pain and suffering! That comes later!

Tightly gripping his enemy by the neck and both wrists, he charged at one of the eastern stained glass windows and flung him face-first with a force enough to shatter the window completely. Logan watched as the former gravedigger plunged toward the ground, screaming. There was a sickening crunch and thud as the body made impact and his screams became silent. He lay still upon the dirt, his head bent at an angle indicating that he had broken his neck. Death had been instantaneous, something which his wounded body would consider a blessing. Logan could also see that the face had been sliced to ribbons by shattered stained glass.

Now that he had successfully defended the tomb of his ancestor, Logan felt confident that he had proven beyond doubt to the ghostly apparition that he was not a grave robber. Whatever bit of tiniest doubt the ghost might have had would be gone now. 

When he turned to face his spiritual companion, he found himself staring at a handsome middle-aged face with right-parted hair, a goatee, and calm eyes. The ghost stood three inches taller than himself. Its lips are curved into a smile.
Logan was already beginning to suspect who the ghostly spirit was. But he had to make certain and clarify its identity. After some brief hesitation he found the right words. Lazarus?

The spirit nodded in reply, confirming his suspicions. He felt great pride in having protected the final resting place of his ancestor, even more so than being descended from the most heroic person in the history of the land until he himself broke the curse from the Sword of Darkness.

It is good that my bloodline has finally set foot once more in this world, the spirit spoke with a voice reminiscent to that of a nobleman.

But how did you  ? He was interrupted by the ghost glancing towards the ring where it still lay firmly within the box upon the floor. Suddenly, it all made sense now. Logan realized that what would have been Katrinas engagement ring was not ordinary jewelry.

Lazarus, he began to speak again, his voice filled with regret. I believe your mortal enemy Draven once more walks among humanity. And I... He struggled to form the words. Shame fought with his conscious telling him to claim responsibility. Shame lost the struggle, but was not gone from his tone as he resumed speaking. I fear I may have played a unwitting role in these events leading up to his revivification. He turned his head away in shame, no longer able to face his ancestor with pride.

The spirit of Lazarus was silent for several moments as if to pass judgment upon his soul. He feared that his ancestor was now ashamed of him and that his legacy would be stained by the foolishness of his descendant. From out of the corner of his vision, he saw arms fold over a leather-clad breastplate. He dared not look upon the face, believing that he would be staring at an angry glare.

At last the ghost spoke. If what you say is true, that Draven has indeed returned to life from his eternal sleep, then it is your responsibility to correct this. Logan lifted his head to face his ancestor. A look of concern etched the mask upon his face. As much as it was not your intention for this to happen, I believe what is to come will make my victory a historical footnote. You must take up this quest on my behalf and prevent Draven from completing his ultimate goal. You must prevent him from reclaiming the Sword of Judgment and put him to rest once more. I am reassured however that the Obsidian of Souls is still beyond his grasp. Now hurry my descendant! Time is running out for mankind and this world!

With those words, the spirit of Lazaurus shimmered and briefly wavered as if seen through a fire before silently bursting once more into hundreds of sparkling lights. The sounds of harp strings once more played in his ears. As the glow surrounding the ring disappeared, the light illuminating the tomb slowly became dimmer as if being absorbed back into the jewel, plunging the room back into near darkness. Once more, he found himself alone in silent darkness.

He picked up the box and stared into the crystal set within the ring. Even after everything that had transpired, he found it difficult to comprehend that his family had owned something containing such mysterious power without even knowing it.

But he also felt pride in having defended the final resting place of his ancestor and all who slept the eternal sleep in the catacombs below. All that was left now was to replace the top on the casket in order to allow the remains of his ancestor to remain undisturbed.

But as he he approached the casket he was greeted by the shock of a body inside, bereft of any signs of decomposition. Normally a human body decomposed into nothing more than a skeleton. Lazarus himself had died fifteen centuries ago. But time had no effect upon his lifeless corpse. It was as if the magic he possessed and commanded preserved his flesh.

As he set the top back on the coffin to once more entomb the remains of his ancestor in darkness, Logan found himself wondering if the body of Draven himself had also been preserved.
					#
Sleep would not come as he lay upon the bed in the right tower of the cathedral. It was not the distant howling of wolves that disturbed his efforts, nor was it the eerie wind. Nor was it his ordeals in the crypts below, even as the groans and moans of the undead still rang in his eardrums. Such a sound would have sent many would-be grave robbers fleeing into the night. 

So many thoughts troubled his uneasy mind. Had he truly come too late to stop the Scourge from carrying out their goal of reviving a dark wizard. What new powers did this wizard command? What would be the consequences on the realm and the rest of mankind if the Scourge resumed their invasion of Earth? How many more people would die because of their actions? But most importantly, because of him? What would Katrina think?

With great effort, he forced himself to banish such thoughts from his mind. They would only distract him when the kingdom needed him. Still, the lingering guilt and regret over his unwilling role in everything that had transpired still tugged at his conscience.

You had no choice! Minerva had told him

But was it truly better than the other choice? To let an entire town be massacred after the Scourge exposed his past to them?

He opened up the locked and stared at the picture of his dead true love. Just staring at her beautiful face, thinking of all the memories they shared together, their first kiss was all enough to ease his troubled mind. But it did not last. Soon came thoughts of what could have been. Marriage. Children. Family. The peace he felt vanished and his soul flooded with intense longing, regret, and loss.
You were my first true failure. Of all the people I could not save, why did you have to be among them? Why did you have to be first?

The tears began to flow again. He shut his eyes tightly trying to block the river, but it was all in vain.

I love you Katrina. As long as I live, I shall never love another!

This locket was all he had to remind him of Katrina, something he treasured more than any other. The sentimental vaule was worth more than any amount of money he would be offered for it. Her family back home had pictures of her throughout her life from childhood to adulthood. 

Had the photo been in color, it would be almost as if he was looking at her smiling face. Instead, it was in black and white, giving him the impression that it was a picture of Agnes.

Agnes. He tried hard not to think of her. She may have the appearance of Katrina and some of her personality and traits, but she was not Katrina. And she never would.

Still, perhaps saving her would bring him some sense of closure to his failure with Katrina. But what were the Scourge planning with her and his mother?

Whatever it takes to break me. What would they do? Torture them? Starve them? Outright kill them?

No! I must not think of such thoughts! Not when an entire world and all of mankind is depending on me! Well...maybe the population of Earth has no idea that their very survival rests upon my shoulders.

Finally, he felt the power of the sandman upon him. He could hardly keep his eyes open and he felt into a deep sleep, pondering what tomorrow would bring.
					#
He awoke as the sun began to rise above the horizon, painting the sky a golden shade. After a quick breakfast of a drink from his canteen and an apple, he sat in one of the pews of the cathedral and offered a prayer for success and the safety of the hostages the Scourge had taken. His mother. Agnes, Albrecht. For Penelopes sake, he hoped Albrecht was alright.

As he stepped into the morning light outside the ancient forgotten church, he caught sight of a smoky pillar rising above the trees. The column was much too slow to be coming from any wildfire set within the woods. Judging from the location, it seemed that it was coming from the mansion he had come across earlier in the woods.