Deep within the gilded vault, the party at last faced Aurinax, the gold dragon sworn to guard the Cassalanter treasure. The air shimmered with heat from the dragon’s breath and the light reflected from endless piles of coins. The party’s words were measured and sincere, and for a moment, it seemed that reason might triumph. Aurinax listened, golden eyes softening toward curiosity and trust.
That fragile moment was shattered by a thunderous crack and the stench of sulfur. Victoro Cassalanter stepped from the shadows, flanked by a host of five spined devils. As he began to chant in Infernal, the devils took flight and began weaving through the air, their clawed hands tracing burning sigils. The five trails of fire converged on Aurinax, binding him within a glowing pentagram that sizzled and hissed as if etched into reality itself.
Victoro raised a bloodstained grimoire and continued his invocation, voice echoing across the chamber:
“O magne, exaudi invocationem meam sicut tuum auxilium require.”
The ceiling above the vault tore open, revealing a swirling red vortex. Fire poured down like liquid sunlight as a massive, slitted eye appeared within the portal, gazing directly at the bound dragon.
“Oh great one, listen to my call as I require thy aid!” Victoro cried, the air rippling with infernal energy.
The chamber grew unbearably hot. From within the vortex, a gigantic claw began to tear through, dragging the edges of the portal wider. Aurinax roared in pain and defiance, but the spined devils’ magic held him fast. The treasure hoard trembled and lifted from the floor as Victoro pressed on:
“Simul contractum absolvemus cum Domino mendacii!”
“Together we shall complete our contract with the Lord of Lies!”
The portal split fully open. A claw large enough to crush a castle gate burst through, seizing Aurinax and dragging him—and much of the treasure—into the rift. The pull was irresistible; Vaelle, Skalmöld, Punko, and Nithgrea were caught in its grip and hurled screaming into Avernus.
The remaining adventurers fought desperately to disrupt the ritual, cutting down the five spined devils one by one. When the last fell, Aurinax’s bindings shattered in a burst of molten light. The dragon’s final glance before vanishing into the infernal portal was one of fury turned to gratitude—he recognized the party as allies.
With the treasure gone and the vault collapsing around them, Victoro sneered, raising his hand toward the widening chasm.
“Praemium recipe, o Draconum regina!”
“Retrieve your prize, oh Queen of Dragons!”
Then, with a final bow and a cruel smile, he stepped backward into the shadows and disappeared—leaving behind only a single sealed envelope resting on the scorched marble floor.
Those who had fallen through the portal found themselves on the scorched plains of Avernus—a landscape of burning rivers and mountains of bone. Fireballs streaked across the black sky as the ground split open to reveal rivers of lava and blood. Hellish war machines lay broken and smoking in the distance.
And then, from the haze, Tiamat descended.
Her five heads rose above the smoke, each colossal and terrible. She spoke with a voice that shook the ground itself. Her crimson gaze fell upon Punko first.
“I was promised one of my brother’s kin,” hissed the red head. “I did not expect to find one of my own brood.”
The white head moved next, lowering to sniff at him, its breath freezing the air.
“No,” it rumbled. “This is not one of ours.”
A blast of frost and flame erupted as the dragon queen turned her fury upon Aurinax, who roared defiantly, golden fire meeting chromatic flame. Amid the chaos, Nithgrea felt something stirring within her—the warmth of sunlight in the heart of Hell. When she turned, she beheld Zariel, her burning wings outstretched to block Tiamat’s wrath.
Zariel:
“YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.
YOU STILL HAVE A ROLE TO FULFILL IN THE MATERIAL.
GO.”
A radiant force enveloped Nithgrea and her companions, propelling them toward the closing rift. They emerged battered and breathless back into the vault—where they continue their fight against Victoro's devil minions.
After the battle was won. On the floor lay the invitation, its seal unbroken and its message written in elegant Infernal script:
“You are cordially invited to celebrate the dawn of a new era.
—V. Cassalanter”
The gold was gone, the dragon lost, and the vault left in ruin. The air stank of sulfur and ash, and the silence that followed was heavier than any victory.
The descent had ended—but the game had only just begun.