Amal methodically checked the spring mechanisms of the lock with the tip of his dagger, the thief being familiar with over a dozen different types of locks over his tenure in the trade city of Al-Hiekk. Unfortunately, there was almost nothing that gave away this lock and Amal couldn't grasp how to manipulate it. The third skeleton was disintegrated by Emmaline's magic, but it was clear she wouldn't be able to hold them all day and night. 

"Abn eahira!" Amal cursed, knowing he could get into whatever tomb or vault this was if he had the time and wasn't worried on himself and, more important, Emmaline. He felt along the wall for a minuscule crease or a slight indention that betrayed a way in. Still, nothing. It hurt his pride, but he tried something desperate. Reaching into his sack, he pulled out the key to his inevitable release, shoving the cylinder into the hole and giving a sigh of jubilant satisfaction when it opened the chamber. The figures on the door suddenly unlatched and pulled back from an unseen power source. The central stone spun twice before the two slabs detached and the door swung open. 

Old, stale air that was almost suffocating to breathe in flowed out, buffeting Amal and causing his mane to billow a bit. Emmaline's mystical trap had decimated six of the undead so far, but the golden bands were thinning visibly. Amal tugged at Emmaline's shoulder, grabbing her attention from her magic. The doors behind him began grinding again, and he realized to his shock they were closing again. Well, they had the key so it was best to capitalize on it. 

"Em!" He called, sweeping her off her feet. She squeaked and clung to him as her magic dissipated, and four skeletons reached at them with bony hands, fingers sharpened like knives. Emmaline was yanked out of their reach by Amal. "This is my treasure." He quipped, and leaped into the closing of the doors. One skeleton was apparently full of vibrant energy as it elbowed past the others and attempted to pass through the door. Amal kicked it back as it lurched through the closing entryway, for it to stumble back into the doors and be slowly crunched into dust as the doors closed shut upon it. 

The lights were blotted out by thick darkness, until Emmaline alited her serpent's staff once more, emitting a pale golden light in the darkness. 

The room was in far better condition than the corridor outside, though cobwebs and a few normal spiderwebs clung to the walls. Three archaic and ornate statues in the center of the room of old northern kings, framing the central throne in the middle of the small vault of a decayed skeleton with a crown of jewels and a red robe, covered in golden chains. Beside him, a large chest was closed, though the wood had rotted. 
[@Penny]