Sacrifice

The faces of the hooded people were shadowed, but their eyes were shining even under their robes, which was unusual.

"An ula, are you serious?" A woman of medium height asked indignantly.

Her voice sounded cracked and dry as a branch. Her wrinkled hands and long nails protruded from her black robes as she pointed to Itziar above the crystalline beast.

"They were supposed to steal powerful artifacts," another woman mumbled sheepishly in a high-pitched voice.

Itziar looked around and discovered a lot of strange weapons lying inside the magic crest. From swords, staffs, bows, boots and gloves, daggers, and cloaks —there was a bit of everything.

Every once in a while, the vanshites would drop something and disappear back into the maze, making the pile of artifacts grow.