A moment of silence for the fallen ones. It would seem that the depths of darkness were too much for their mortal souls. Those who dive into its gaping maw tend to struggle the hardest. It is said that the chitters of whittled spirits brush against those who enter its domain. One could hear their voices through the agonizing wails. Echoes of the past cry out, begging for freedom.

To be free from one’s dark domain is a heavy demand. The body is fragile, searching for relevance in a life strung along by a single thread. But to have darkness is to have light. No construct of reality can exist without both entities. It is that realization that pushed the fallen adventurers back to consciousness.

Battered and bruised, Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Alumak all awaken from their slumber. The explorers find themselves tied to a large stalactite. They squirm, but to no avail. Their actions only resulted in pebbles sprinkling on their heads by the stalactite’s moist surface. And yet, those droplets were just enough to awaken Donald from his crippling slumber.

They may be out of the desert, but its effects weighed heavily on the adventurers’ psyches. To make matters worse, they were crushed under the blackened fist of one of their greatest foes. An indictment with this many charges was sure to create a wedge between the guilty and the jury. And none felt this wedge more than Donald and Uncle Scrooge.

Separated by their party, Scrooge and Donald kept their backs against the wall. Neither man had the courage to look one another in the eye. Their pride ensured that. Attempts at a glance only led to them giving each other the cold shoulder. Worsening the matter was the entrance of Magica, a woman who was eager to get a taste of the brewing family feud.

“Ohhh, don’t stop the feud on my account, boys. Nyeh heh heh!” Magica laughed, “What’s this? No skeptical call-outs? No witty remarks? What a shame. I was enjoying watching you two battle the way of the ideological mind. Oh well! Now that you are awake, you will finally see the unveiling of the archangel’s sword. Unless you still believe it doesn’t exist~.”

“…”

“Hmm-hmm! Your silence speaks plenty. Farewell, foolies~!” Magica said as she made her escape.

“Wah! She’s got the scrolls! We gotta do something!” the triplets cried. But their cries were shut down by a dower duck.

“What’s the point?” the defeated sailor sighed.

“B-but, Unca’ Donald…” Huey uttered, “You can’t give up! This is Magica, our mortal enemy!”

“Yeah!” Dewey added, “And she’s nothing but a jealous old hag!”

“No... she’s right, boys.” Donald lamented, “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Unca’ Donald,” Louie contented, “Magica tricked you!”

“That doesn’t make the reality any different, boys,” Donald admitted, “Uncle Scrooge was right. I’m just a Foolhardy McCoy. I’ll never see the reality of things if I don’t give up these stupid games.”

Scrooge knew this kind of defeat. Spouting such words could only come from a man at the end of his rope. For an old miser who always proved himself correct, there was nothing he could say that could put the situation in his favor. He knew that deep down, there was some truth to every supposed treasure.

If Donald were to believe it, then it must be true. After all, it was Scrooge who often dragged him out on his foolhardy schemes. Donald reminded Scrooge of himself at times. And it was those same reasons that gave Scrooge the ability to tell Donald exactly what he needed to hear.

“Donald, you ARE a Foolhardy McCoy,” Scrooge began, “Not only have you dragged us darn-near across the hemisphere, but you got us involved in a one-sided civil war, bloody dragged us through the desert, and turned my finger into a flashy hood ornament! You are as gullible as a goldfish, and you leave us at the mercy of an old haggin’ witch… and yet, I’m proud of ye’!”

Donald’s brow furrowed confusedly. He heard every word, but was unsure if he should feel motivated or disillusioned.

“Now, I know what yer’ thinking, and I can assure that this is no trick. I may be hard on ye’, but that’s only because I’d rather see ye’ prove your intentions and see the reality of life,” Scrooge said candidly, “It’s no fun ‘n’ games, boy. But you’re someone who never gives up, and that is what makes me proud. But, yer’ also quite daffy, Donald. Oh, sometimes I yearn to go ‘venturing just by naive beliefs. The thrills, the joys, the danger. It’s nowhere near as fun as accumulating endless riches. But it does teach you a lot about life.

“Heh… I guess this is about being tougher than the toughies, right?” Donald muttered.

“D’oh! No! I-… Ech!” Scrooge stammered, “The point ‘ere is… ah’m proud of you, Donald. And I’m sorry for the way ah’ve been. Will ye’ forgive an old man?”

“Oh, Uncle Scrooge…” Donald sniffled, “You old soft-serve.”

“Nah-now don’t you go sniveling on me yet. We still have a bet.”

“Right. But how are we gonna stop Magica?”

“Ahh, don’t you remember? There’s one thing that Magica always neglects when she thinks she has us made.”

“What’s that?”

“To always count the chickens in yer’ coop.”

To Donald’s amazement, Scrooge had just the item needed to distract Magica. With an arm barely free, Scrooge was able to reach into his pocket and pull out a small clove of garlic. Then, Scrooge tossed the clove over the edge. With a bit of luck, the clove bounced against the cavern walls as it made its way to the sorceress. The clove conveniently bounced overhead, perching perfectly on her coal black hair. For a moment, Magica was blind to its presence. That was until she picked up its foul scent.

“Hmm?” Magica mumbled as she scratched her head, “Hmm…” She took one whiff and screamed, “Garlic?! AIEEE!”

Suddenly, her powers began to drain. Any incantation she made was halted, which also meant her effects on the MaliQuack-Tud had also drained away. When the warmongers no longer felt her spell, they charged at the sorceress with weapons drawn. But despite their sheer numbers, they still fell prey to another one of Magica’s malicious tricks.

“ZIP-ZAP! TAKE THAT!” Magica chanted.

Her calls summoned a shadow beast. The beast was enormous, with two sharp horns and three bulbous eyes. Its great size pierced the armor of the zionist soldiers and made them drop their weapons. Now they were the ones who were stricken in fear. The MaliQuack-Tud may be the visage of darkness, but Magica was darkness at its purest form.

The shadow would scare the soldiers with a mighty roar. Fire brimmed from its gaping maw. Its power was felt in the zionists, causing them to run with their tails between their legs. The warmongers ran screaming, “Every man for himself!” in their native tongues. They left the same way they came, leaving the prisoners to Magica’s fate.

“Sorry, boys,” Magica said unapologetically, “But that treasure is mine!”

Magica then noticed the trampled clove of garlic and kicked it away. With haste, she unsheathed her wand to regain her power and finish her incantation. Her final words shook the Earth both high and low. The cave would finally bow to Magica’s demands, shifting the earth from its core.

The cave is terraformed. The walls were now covered in limestone. The streams shimmered as crystals sprinkled into the rivers. The cave swelled as the claustrophobic tunnel expanded into a subterranean paradise. And seated at the center was a gateway to the Holy Land’s final secret.

“Yes!” Magica cheered, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Magica was surrounded by riches. Like Scrooge, she could take as much as she could carry and retire early. However, riches mattered little to the sorceress. Instead, her real treasure lay deep beneath the surface of the subterranean platform. After all, a woman’s got to have her prize. Once Magica composed herself, she whistled for her broomstick.

On command, the broomstick collected Magica, and the pair hovered to the center of the speleothem. The sorceress flew freely before being stopped by an invisible wall. Her flight was halted, dropping her until she collapsed on a lonely staircase. The cave surged with supernatural power—magic that was still opposed to her in some form. Regardless, she climbed the stairs.

As she climbed the stairs, she felt the cave’s energies surge through her. The cave’s energies are saturated based on a person’s aura. The saturation judged a person’s needs, warping their capabilities to their benefit or to their detriment. It was a way to deter those who might pervert its sanctity. Magica was well aware of these mystical securities and swiftly erected a shield around her person. Magica marched confidently up the stairs. Her shield would not last, but that did little to discourage her. Not when the treasure was in her hands.

After climbing the hefty flight of stairs, Magica would reach the top. There, she discovered a shimmering beam of light. The sorceress was blinded to its mystic presence. Magica had a gut feeling that the sword must be in that beam, but she did not account for how dangerous it might be.

To test her theory, Magica ordered her shadow to go in and touch the beam. The shadow obeyed and rushed towards the light beam. However, the cave picked up on its energies and acted accordingly. Once the shadow gave the apparition its touch, it screamed. The shadow wriggled violently, shrieking as the light’s power overwhelmed it. The shadow then crawled back to its master, who did not take kindly to its cowardice.

“Oh, you STUPID shadow! You are nothing more than a COWARD!” Magica berated. She stomped on her shadow to put it in its place.

Failure would not be on Magica’s agenda. She knew that if she wanted something done, she would do it herself. She tempted the cave’s defiance by casting fire from her wand. The fire burned bright, then fizzled before its flame could touch the light. The beam would fire back at Magica, heating up her wand until she was forced to put it down.

“Feh!” Magica exclaimed, “I will have you soon, my treasure. Just you wait! Now what did that stupid scroll say again?”

Meanwhile, Scrooge and the boys used Magica’s absence to free themselves. They did not see much, but they knew that with the chamber growing bigger, that meant that Magica was closer to the treasure than ever before. Escape was no longer an option. If their world was at stake, there was no turning back.

“Hah! We’ve beaten back the shadows and the MaliQuack-Tud. We are true adventurers, men!” Alumak proclaimed.

“Shhh…!” Scrooge hushed, “Even so. We should still be careful. We must make every action count if we-… AIEEEE!!”

“Uncle Scrooge!”

In a shocking turn of events, Uncle Scrooge would be swept away in a torrent of black magic. Scrooge was taken for a dizzying ride thanks to one of Magica’s dastardly shadows. Scrooge found himself swirling deep into the center of the platform and dropped before the feet of the malignant sorceress. But in another surprising turn, his presence caused a commotion that resulted in the sunbeam’s divergence. The cavern’s crystals emitted darker energies. The crystals now drizzled with sweat. The rivers beneath the platform boiled, lifting smoke from their surfaces until a fog clouded the entire cave.

“Well now,” Magica chuckled, “It looks like I’m not the only one with a sour spirit after all!”

“Bah! You’re no heart of gold either, Magica,” Scrooge retorted.

“Hmph! Maybe a nice hot bath will teach you some manners!” Magica shot back.

By the will of her spellbinding power, the sorceress lifted Scrooge up to a great height. She was going to teach the lowdown chauvinist a lesson, and an angered god beam was just the way to do it. Scrooge struggled, but there was no way to break free.

“She’s gonna fry Unca’ Scrooge!” Huey cried.

“We gotta do something! But how do we get down there! There’s fog everywhere! We-… wait. Where’s Unca’ Donald?!”