By Shamboogie Spiritshuffler, Lore & Legends Editor and Investigative Correspondent
The Wayfarer’s Gazette | Volume I, Issue No. 2 | November 2026
Some mysteries are buried by time. Others, I suspect, are buried quite deliberately.
A Door Where None Should Be
The Shaded Dunes are not a place for the careless traveler. Sandstorms sweep across the desert with little regard for one’s destination, possessions, or continued existence. Ancient ruins emerge from beneath the shifting sands, only to disappear again beneath the next passing storm.
Such is the nature of the desert.
Or so I once believed.
My investigation began with a report from a caravan traveler who claimed that a particularly violent sandstorm had uncovered a massive stone doorway standing alone among the dunes. No surrounding walls. No visible structure. Simply an ancient doorway, half-buried in the sand, where none had stood before.
Ordinarily, I might have dismissed such a tale as the product of too much sun and too little water.
But the traveler mentioned something peculiar.
Despite the violence of the storm that had uncovered it, the sand surrounding the doorway was perfectly smooth.
Not a footprint. Not a ripple.
Not even the tracks of those who had approached it.
Naturally, I wished to investigate.
Unfortunately, so did Nynkies Nimblefingers.
An Uninvited Companion
“I am coming with you,” declared the Gazette’s Editor-in-Chief when I informed him of my intended journey.
I looked up from my notes.
“May I ask why?”
“Editorial oversight.”
“Of a desert?”
“Of my employee investigating a potentially valuable discovery.”
“Valuable in what sense?”
Nynkies smiled.
It was the sort of smile that made merchants check their purses.
“Historical value, naturally.”
And so we departed.
The journey through the Shaded Dunes was uneventful, apart from Nynkies complaining about the heat, the sand, the lack of respectable taverns, and the unreasonable expectation that he carry his own supplies.
We eventually located the doorway shortly before sunset.
It stood at the base of a low dune, a towering slab of dark sandstone framed by two weathered pillars. Strange symbols had been carved into the stone, their edges worn by what appeared to be centuries of exposure.
Yet the doorway itself looked remarkably undamaged.
I examined the inscriptions carefully. They resembled no writing I could confidently identify.
One symbol in particular caught my attention: a circle surrounding three descending lines, interrupted by a narrow gap.
I copied it into my journal.
Behind me, Nynkies was already inspecting the door’s edges.
“Do you suppose there’s treasure inside?”
“I suppose there may be a historical explanation for its presence.”
“So that’s a yes.”
The Warning
As I approached the doorway, I felt an unusual stillness settle over the surrounding dunes.
The wind ceased.
Even the drifting sand seemed to hesitate.
I closed my eyes and reached outward with my senses, seeking the familiar presence of the spirits.
At first, there was nothing.
Then came a whisper.
Do not enter.
I opened my eyes.
“Nynkies, I believe we should proceed with caution.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Proceed with caution? We’ve been standing here for twenty minutes while you whisper at rocks.”
“The spirits are troubled.”
“The spirits are always troubled. Have you ever met a cheerful spirit? Perhaps they need a holiday.”
I ignored the remark.
“Something beyond this doorway does not wish to be disturbed.”
“Wonderful! Then whatever’s inside probably hasn’t been looted yet.”
“Nynkies, wait!”
“Look, you stand out here and have a lovely conversation with your invisible friends. I’ll go inside and investigate something that actually exists.”
Before I could object, he slipped through a narrow opening along the door’s edge and vanished into the darkness.
I considered following.
The whisper returned, more urgently.
Do not enter.
For once, I decided that wisdom was preferable to curiosity.
I remained outside.
What Waited Beneath the Sand
Several minutes passed.
I studied the symbols again, searching for some indication of the doorway’s purpose. The surrounding stone bore no obvious markings of a known settlement, and the absence of nearby foundations made the structure’s isolation all the more troubling.
Then I heard something.
A faint sound from beyond the door.
Three knocks.
I called for Nynkies.
No answer.
Three more knocks followed, louder this time.
I reached toward the doorway, but the spirits stirred violently around me.
He has taken it.
My blood ran cold.
“Oh, dear.”
From somewhere deep within the ruins came a distant shout.
“SHAMBOOGIE!”
I stepped closer.
“Nynkies? What have you found?”
A pause.
“NOTHING!”
Another pause.
“HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING, HOW DIFFICULT IS IT TO PUT A CURSE BACK?”
Before I could formulate an answer, the ground trembled beneath my feet.
A low rumbling spread through the dunes.
And the wind began to rise.
The Storm That Should Not Have Been
I have witnessed many sandstorms in my travels.
This was unlike any I had seen.
The wind did not sweep across the desert.
It seemed to emerge from the doorway itself.
Sand rose from the ground in twisting columns, climbing toward the darkening sky. The air filled with a strange, hollow sound, like distant voices speaking beneath the earth.
I called for Nynkies again.
This time, he appeared.
He stumbled through the opening, clutching his satchel and looking considerably less pleased with himself than when he had entered.
“We need to leave,” he announced.
“An observation with which I wholeheartedly agree.”
Behind him, something struck the inside of the doorway.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The ancient stone shuddered.
We ran.
I shall spare my readers the indignity of describing a Deep Gnome and a Goblin attempting to outrun a supernatural sandstorm across loose desert sand.
Suffice it to say that neither of us looked particularly heroic.
At one point, Nynkies shouted that I should ask my spirits for assistance.
I informed him that they had already offered excellent advice.
He suggested that perhaps they might offer something more practical.
Fortunately, we reached shelter behind a rocky outcropping just as the storm overtook the ruins.
For several minutes, the world disappeared beneath a wall of swirling sand.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm stopped.
The sky cleared.
The wind returned to its ordinary direction.
And the doorway was gone.
A Most Inconvenient Discovery
We returned cautiously to the place where the doorway had stood.
There was nothing.
No pillars. No stonework. No opening into the earth.
Only an unbroken stretch of sand.
I examined the area for some time, but found no evidence of the structure.
Nynkies seemed unusually eager to leave.
“Well,” he said, brushing sand from his clothing, “that was a complete waste of time.”
“Was it?”
“Absolutely. Nothing worth taking.”
I turned toward him.
“Nynkies.”
“What?”
“Did you remove anything from inside?”
“Of course not.”
“Nynkies.”
He sighed.
“Fine. One little stone. Hardly worth mentioning.”
“The spirits warned us not to disturb anything.”
“Yes, yes. Your spirits are very opinionated.”
“May I see it?”
He hesitated.
Then he reached into his left pocket.
His expression changed.
He searched again.
Then his right pocket.
Then his satchel.
Finally, he looked up.
“That’s peculiar.”
“What is?”
“I distinctly remember putting it in my left pocket.”
“And?”
Nynkies slowly opened his right hand.
Resting in his palm was a smooth black stone, no larger than a small coin.
Neither of us had seen him retrieve it.
Upon its surface was a single golden symbol.
I recognized it immediately.
The same circle and three descending lines I had copied from the doorway.
But there was a difference.
The symbol on the doorway had been incomplete.
The one on the stone was whole.
I reached toward it.
The stone was warm.
Not warm from the desert sun.
Warm as though something deep within it were alive.
Then, from somewhere beneath our feet, came a sound.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Neither of us spoke.
For perhaps the first time since I have known him, Nynkies Nimblefingers appeared to have nothing clever to say.
The Questions That Remain
I have spent considerable time reviewing my notes from that evening.
Several questions remain unanswered.
What structure lay beneath the Shaded Dunes, and why did the first storm uncover it?
Who warned me against entering? Or perhaps the more troubling question is, what warned me?
What did Nynkies encounter inside, and why has he been reluctant to describe it?
Most troubling of all, why did the second storm arrive immediately after he removed the stone?
I cannot establish whether the storms were connected to the doorway, nor can I determine the origin of the symbol.
My companion maintains that the entire affair was an unfortunate coincidence involving shifting sands, ancient masonry, and what he describes as “an unreasonable amount of shamanistic mumbo jumbo.”
I remain unconvinced.
As for the black stone, Nynkies has agreed to keep it secured until we can learn more about its origins.
I have suggested that it might be wiser to place it somewhere beyond our immediate reach.
He has informed me that he knows an excellent hiding place.
I find this considerably less reassuring than he intended.
For now, our investigation remains open.
Should any traveler encounter unusual stonework emerging from the Shaded Dunes following a sandstorm, I would be most interested in hearing their account.
I would, however, strongly recommend against opening any doors.
And should you hear three knocks from beneath the sand, I offer one final piece of advice.
Do not knock back.
Some mysteries are buried by time. Others, I suspect, are buried quite deliberately.
Shamboogie Spiritshuffler
Lore & Legends Editor and Investigative Correspondent
The Wayfarer’s Gazette
Beyond the Veil investigates the strange, the forgotten, and the unexplained throughout Eth-ur. This installment is an original fictional tale inspired by the world of Monsters & Memories, not an account of confirmed game events or established lore.
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