CHAPTER 86: THE SANCTUM OF SCATTERED SEERS

Quest Update: "Survive the Junkyard Jamboree"

Objective: Reach the sanctum of cursed prophecies and claim its relic without losing your mind or your dignity.

Reward: A strange trinket, maybe a clue to Valthorne’s legacy.

Failure: You’re the lair’s new prophet, foretelling shame forever.

The passage of cursed prophecies loomed, its rune-carved walls pulsing like a shrine gone feral, casting flickering light on the cluttered, dusty floor. The air reeked of ancient parchment, cracked stone, and the faint stench of a bad life choice, making every step feel like a gamble against a seer’s curse. I gripped the Heart of Glimmerfen, its orb throbbing like it was yelling, You’re doomed, Cecil! The Wyrm’s Quill buzzed, flickering like a tavern lantern on its last spark. In my pocket, the Scone of Secrets pulsed, its warmth humming like it was whispering, You’re so screwed. The Baguette of Boundless Beginnings, Chalice of Cheesy Charms, Amulet of Awful Allure, Scepter of Silly Sovereignty, Ring of Ridiculous Regality, Medallion of Mad Musings, Orb of Outrageous Oracles, Pendant of Perplexing Portraits, and Crown of Cryptic Canticles hung on my belt or head, feeling like they were judging my soul. My coat was a catastrophe—torn, singed, glittering like a disco ball that had lost a fight with a dusty archive—but I felt a fire, like my old Loafbearer powers were merging with the quill’s chaotic energy. I was Cecil Dreggs, the guy who’d once knocked over a goblet and accidentally started a tavern fortune-telling night that became a local ballad. If I could survive a cursed crystal ball and outwit a spectral poet, I could conquer this sanctum and maybe prove I was more than a walking disaster.

My crew stumbled along, weapons out, looking like they’d rather be at a tavern than dodging enchanted relics. Lilith spun her scythe, red eyes glaring at the runes like they’d stolen her last shot. "Cecil, if you trigger another trap, I’ll tie you to a cursed crystal ball and let it predict your doom forever." Her smirk was sharper than a seer’s vision, but her eyes held respect, like she figured I might survive the night.

Vorren hulked forward, his knife gleaming like it was ready to gut the sanctum. "If we die, I’m taking that orb, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, crown, your coat, and whatever’s left of your reputation." His growl rumbled like a bouncer ready to toss a drunk, but he stuck close, like he almost believed in me.

Jex, coated in dust and glitter, whimpered like a kid in a haunted shrine. "No loot, no treasure, just freaky visions! I’m done for!" His voice cracked, echoing THWAP like a dropped scroll.

Yvra glided forward, her dress defying the dust like it was beneath her royal status. "Cecil, if you drag us into another fiasco, I’ll exile you to a dungeon of endless omens and bury you in royal prophecies." Her tone was frost, but her eyes lingered on the Heart and crown, intrigued.

Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that reeked of burnt dreams and ancient ink. "The relics are linked, Cecil, but your focus wobbles like a prophet with stage fright. Channel it, or we’re all prophecy fodder." His calm was maddening, but it kept me grounded.

Sir Thrain, covered in dust and glitter, raised his lance. "For the crown’s mystic honor!" He charged, tripped over a cracked tablet, and slammed BANG into a shelf. "Dishonorable rubbish!" he groaned.

Sir Gorrim, his mustache a sticky mess of glitter and dust, waved his broken hilt. "By valor’s grace!" He slipped, crashing THUD into scrolls. "Cursed debris!" he wheezed.

I twirled the quill, flashing a grin despite the crew’s groans. "Chill, team! We’ve got the Heart, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, crown, quill, and my legendary Doughnut Lord swagger. This sanctum’s just a bad fortune-telling night!" The quill buzzed, sparking confidence, though my gut churned like I’d downed a cursed elixir.

Lilith snorted, her scythe scraping a rune SCREECH. "Your ’swagger’ is why we’re dodging crystal balls, you walking tavern fight." Her sarcasm dripped like spilled ale, but her eyes softened, like she was betting I’d survive the night.

The passage opened into a circular sanctum, dominated by a pedestal of stacked tablets—piled with cracked slates, dusty scrolls, and a gaudy crystal ball that looked like it was stolen from a melodramatic seer. The runes glowed brighter, shaped like ink splatters and broken quills, pulsing like they were laughing at my existence. Atop the pedestal sat a glowing relic—a strange amulet, etched with cryptic runes, radiating magic like a knockoff talisman. The Heart throbbed, scone hummed, baguette pulsed, chalice gleamed, amulet sparkled, scepter shone, ring glowed, medallion shimmered, oracle orb pulsed, pendant glowed, crown sparkled, and the quill buzzed, like they recognized this odd prize.

"Whoa," I whispered, quill buzzing. "That’s the Amulet of Absurd Auguries! Weird, but powerful." I had no clue if that was its name, but it sounded like something a drunk seer would hype up.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed, her scythe glinting. "Cecil, if that amulet’s a trap, I’ll use it to strangle you." Her tone was sharp, but her lips twitched, like she was fighting a smirk.

Vorren grunted, sniffing the air. "Smells like a scam. Don’t touch it, Dreggs." His knife twitched, like it wanted to stab the amulet.

Jex’s eyes lit up, hands twitching like he was in a fortune-teller’s tent. "Can I keep it? It’s shiny!" He reached, but Yvra grabbed his arm, her dagger gleaming.

"Don’t," she snapped, her voice cold. "Cecil, this is your fault. Fix it before we’re buried." Her eyes flicked to the Heart and amulet, curious.

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The amulet is linked to the relics, Cecil. Be cautious." His warning sent a chill through me.

Thrain raised his lance. "For the crown’s mystic honor!" He tripped, crashing BANG into a shelf. "Dishonorable rubbish!" he groaned.

Gorrim waved his hilt. "By valor’s grace!" He slipped, crashing THUD into scrolls. "Cursed debris!" he wheezed.

I stepped toward the pedestal, clutching the Heart, quill buzzing, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, and crown pulsing. "Okay, team, let’s grab this amulet and bounce!" The runes flared, and a spectral figure appeared—a seer in ancient robes, holding a glowing crystal ball that hummed HUM. His eyes glowed like twin lanterns, and his voice boomed RUMBLE. "WHO DARES CLAIM THE AMULET OF ABSURD AUGURIES? PROVE YOUR WORTH, OR FACE THE WRATH OF THE SANCTUM!"

I gulped, quill flaring. "Cecil Dreggs, Doughnut Lord! I’ve got the Heart, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, crown, and I’m here for answers!" The Heart pulsed, and I felt Valthorne’s power, like it was cheering me on.

The seer’s eyes glowed. "Answer my riddle, or perish! What foretells with clarity, yet clouds with fear?"

I blinked, scratching my head. "Uh... an amulet?" The quill flared, and the scone warmed, like I was close.

The seer’s crystal ball hummed HUM. "Close! Speak truer!" The runes flared, and scrolls flew from the shelves, pages flapping FLUTTER, shooting ink blasts and paper darts ZIP-ZIP. I ducked, a dart grazing my coat ZIP.

"Scroll attack?!" I yelped, quill flaring. I pointed it, and a giant parchment appeared WHUMP

, blocking a scroll. The crew scattered, dodging paper.

Lilith slashed a scroll, ink spraying SPLAT. "Cecil, you’re a disaster! Fix this!" Her scythe spun, shredding pages like they’d insulted her.

Vorren smashed a scroll, parchment tearing RIP. "Who builds this garbage? I hate it!" He dodged, nimble for a keg of a man.

Jex caught a dart, sniffing it. "Is this... treasure?" He ducked ZIP, squealing. "Nope, cursed!" He dove behind a shelf, dust on his face.

Yvra’s dagger pinned a scroll THUNK. "Cecil, end this!" Her glare was deadly, but her lips twitched, like she was fighting a laugh.

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The quill channels your will, Cecil. Focus, or we’re prophecy fodder." His calm steadied me.

Thrain swung his lance, shredding a scroll SHRED. "For valor!" He tripped, rolling BANG into a shelf. "Curse this rubbish!" he groaned.

Gorrim flailed, his hilt waving. "By the crown’s grace!" He slipped, crashing THUD into scrolls. "Cursed debris!" he wheezed.

I raised the quill, Heart glowing, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, and crown pulsing. "Okay, riddle time! An amulet foretells with clarity—vision, swagger—but fear clouds its power!" The quill flared, the scone glowed, the Heart pulsed, and the amulet shone brighter. The seer nodded. "Worthy!" The scrolls stopped, and the pedestal glowed, revealing a path beyond.

I grabbed the amulet, visions hitting me—Valthorne weaving peace with relics, his power in the Heart, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, crown, and new amulet. My power. The path hummed, runes flaring, promising answers or doom.

Lilith slashed a scroll SPLAT. "Cecil, you’re not dead. Shocking."

Vorren smashed a scroll RIP. "Don’t get cocky."

Jex peered at a scroll, grinning. "You’re the best, Cecil!"

Yvra’s dagger pinned a scroll THUNK. "Absurd, but effective."

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The relics are one. Be cautious."

Thrain and Gorrim shouted, "For the crown!" and crashed BANGTHUD. "Dishonorable rubbish!" Gorrim wheezed.

The path glowed, runes pulsing. I led the way, clutching the Heart, scone, baguette, chalice, amulet, scepter, ring, medallion, oracle orb, pendant, crown, new amulet, and quill, ready for whatever came next. The Doughnut Lord was just getting started.