One-two-THREE one-two-THREE one-two-step-FOUR onetwothreefourFIVE...
"Did you hear that capital-G Goddess there?" Taharqi says in an undertone to Annika when their guide is gone. "'Cause I heard it. I did not expect this place to be Feyjan."
She shrugs and turns back around to examine the door and the remaining seals. The undead they've dealt with so far have not been particularly dangerous, and while unlike some monks she is not particularly specced for Life- and Light-elemental attacks she can modify her stuff on the fly to include it and that makes her punches hit the zombies quite a lot harder than they otherwise would, which was already pretty hard.
They were really very numerous, though, and she can hear the vague echoing of their collective shuffling in the distance.
"These seals are more powerful than the ones outside."
"That's probably why they've held this long, yeah. Seems like they've been under assault for a while."
Annika nods then closes her eyes and concentrates for a second... and a ball of blue flame bursts into existence in front of her and starts orbiting in circles around her, slowly.
"Yes." She's said all of this to him before but she supposes it's good to confirm it before it becomes necessary or any of them makes an assumption. "Your poison affects spectral targets?"
"Yeah. Don't ask me how, but Vallynn definitely had a point when he said all of this is magic so I'm just not questioning it. Magic poison that hits ghosts, sure."
...that was very strange to witness. It was like he walked somewhere except it wasn't anywhere and then he was gone.
She pushes the door open and steps through.
She felt some of this when she stepped into the cave but past these seals she feels it a lot more keenly: a sudden drop in temperature, like she just got past some invisible barrier that was keeping the cold isolated from the outside. Except it's not cold—they were deep enough in that it had already been very cold—but rather something like the absence of a more fundamental kind of warmth, like the feeling of being surrounded by life.
Annika isn't surrounded by life, here. She is surrounded by its distinct lack, and her soul is pushing against its boundaries to try to fill the negative space left by it, and that feels... cold.
Her soul is very well-secured, thank you very much, so she's going to ignore the cold. Her clothes are enough to keep her actually physically warm, and everything else is a matter of skill.
There are more undead here, shambling zombies and skeletons aiming for the adventurers as soon as they notice them. Despite Mother Ga-in's worries about the resting places of souls, it is deeply unclear if anyone's souls are still in there, with the way these creatures don't seem to respond to any stimuli and just mindlessly attack. And they go down easy, as easy as the ones closer to the surface, even if they're more numerous.
The first new thing down here is horongs: small floating purple balls of flame that often hang around haunted sites and cemeteries. No one really has an idea of why they exist or what they are—people have theorised that they might be ghosts, but most scholars and priests agree that they're probably not—and they tend to not be very aggressive—except when they are. But that doesn't mean they're harmless; even when they're not being aggressive, just their presence starts draining the vitality of any living thing around them, and spending too long near one will make you feel cold and lethargic and tired until you either waste away or (more often) are picked off by something more dangerous nearby.
None of this is particularly dangerous, though, and more importantly, none of this is enough to justify the rapid decay of the seals. This is still all downstream from whatever's happening.
They need to keep going.
Okay that's more concerning. Actual ghosts are actually reasonably rare, and the seals used in the burials are most often meant to keep dark influences away from the dead rather than the other day around. The dead are supposed to find their way, on their own, and it usually takes rather a lot to keep them here.
(The image that comes to mind, then, is that of the Lord of Glastheim. If something like that found its way into this cave—or maybe was buried here all along—the whole village might need to be evacuated. She hopes it's not that.)