A dungeon crawl with gothic overtones.

The cursed city, the city of the dead, Borvaria. It's an endless maze of dark alleyways, broken bridges, desolate plazas and overgrown gardens. Inside each ancient palace, another maze. No one knows how far the city extends. Borvaria surrounds us: we can always see its black spires looming in the horizon.

There are many ways to die in Borvaria. The ancient steps below you may turn into rubble. You may lose your sense of time and place, never finding your way back. Nameless creatures, born from forbidden magic, thirst for your blood. Some say their creators are still alive, sleeping the deep sleep of the immortal.

Only Praedors, the restless, despised treasure hunters, go to Borvaria. Some come back, more scarred each time. They swear this is the last time. It never is.

For years, she has looked for The Onyx Crown, coming back empty-handed each time. This is the last time, she knows it. The old man's map is not a forgery, she knows these runes. Her group will die in the attempt, but she will bring back the crown.

Gerra's lover whispers her to stay. He is gone; his bones lie in Borvaria, but his soul is trapped in her blade. No one else can hear him but her.