Chronicles of Klept: Chapter XXVI
Hurrying across the square, it was clear the city was stretched thin. Citizens spoke in hushed, frantic tones, pointing toward the fading stars. Guards were ‘suggesting’ that people stay indoors. And everywhere, eyes flicked, again and again, toward the pillar of pinkish-purple light rising from the distant mountains. Even in the thickening dark, its source was unmistakable: Castle Ieyoch.
On the cart ride back from the Briars, I’d remembered something – a vague note about fading stars. As soon as we reached Dawnsheart, the others rushed to Tufulla. I veered off, sprinting first to my dormitory room, then the archives, grabbing anything that might help. Scrolls and tomes clutched in my arms, I collided with a guard on the church steps.
“What is it, Reader? The light – what does it mean?” His voice tried for calm, but the fear beneath it was obvious.
“Is it part of the Prophecy?” a young mother asked, hurrying past with a child in her arms.
I didn’t answer. I swung open the doors and stepped inside.
Tufulla’s office buzzed with overlapping voices. He and Osman were deep in conversation. Both adventuring parties were present.
Yun and Hothar hunched over a parchment in one corner, while Travok, finally convinced by Hothar to join, studied the larger medallion taken from the direwolf rider. Trunch and Day were locked in a hushed exchange in the corner. Umberto was in a heated discussion with Hothar nearby. Everyone was speaking at once.
Even Brenne was there, sitting in the corner, bewildered and out of place, as if unsure why she’d been brought at all.
The whole room crackled with tension; scrolls scattered, hands gesturing, voices rising, no single conversation able to rise above the others.
Scrolls and parchments lay scattered across the desk and floor. At the center, a large map of the Humbledoewn Valley had been spread out and pinned in place. Four dark ink circles marked it—each one ringed over and over, as if someone had tried to etch the urgency straight through the paper.
“We’ve located four Dan’del’ion stumps so far,” Redmond said to Din, gesturing at the map. “The one near Nelb that we visited with you, another just outside Briarbright, one in the forest near Ravenswell, and a fourth by Lakewood.”
“I’ll bet my hammer there’s more,” Din muttered, slowly shaking his head as he stroked his beard.
“They’re doing something,” Carrie said, flitting between shelves. She kept glancing through the window. “That light… it’s not natural.”
Another star went out.
“We should’ve gone there sooner,” Umberto growled, fingers twitching on the handle of his axe.
Tufulla began pacing at the edge of the map, parchment sheets clutched in both hands. “What’s the connection with the stars?” he muttered, mostly to himself – but loud enough that everyone heard. “The prophecy spoke of a rise in darkness. It has to be linked somehow. What are we missing?”
“It’s happened before,” I called out, setting the parchments and tomes down on the desk. “The stars. It happened. Centuries ago.” I thrust a scroll into Tufulla’s outstretched hand.
He unrolled carefully. Columns. Tallies. Wheat and barley. Taxes in copper.
From over Tufulla’s shoulder, Redmond frowned. “This is a farmer’s ledger. Not a chronicle.”
“It’s both,” I said, “The Court burned official records and chronicles. During their rule, there was a purge — official histories of their rise, and much of what came before, erased. What’s left turns up in scraps.”
Osman nodded. “He’s right. Half our best leads are buried in the margins of things no one ever meant to save.”
“Yes, yes, that’s all common knowledge” Redmond huffed, “how does this tax-record tell us anything?’
I tapped a note squeezed into the ledger’s margin. “Here. Three days of eclipse. Stars vanished first. The farmer feared his crops would fail. I first found this months ago, it seemed odd, unimportant. Since then, I’ve seen two or three more. A tithe list from Timberham. A ferryman’s due sheet with grease stains. A hymn book where a child had practiced letters. Each one mentions the stars going out, followed by a three-day eclipse that drowned the world in dark.”
“Of course,” Osman muttered, turning to Tufulla. “Do you have a copy of The Litanies of the Nine Lamps?”
“The old vigil chants?” Tufulla blinked. “They haven’t been sung in centuries.”
“But do you have one?”
“I think there’s a copy on the shelf behind the dais.”
Osman was already out the door. Moments later, he returned with a ragged, dust-covered tome. “There’s an older mention too,” he said, with breathless excitement. “Not in ledgers. In the hymns. In the ballads. In fireside stories no one sings anymore.”
He opened the book and rifled through it with no regard for its age. Tufulla winced.
“Here. Third verse of Song for the Lost Light:
The stars went out and night held fast.
Three days, no sun did shine.
Seven and Three, hold ward o’er me.
Send light to cleave the dark.”
Osman slammed the book shut and dropped it on the desk. Tufulla stepped forward, gently picked it up, and tucked it into his robes with careful hands.
Carrie blinked. “No wonder they stopped singing it. No rhyme, barely a rhythm.”
Yak nodded mid-chew. “Not memorable.”
“But those hymns are pre Dan’del’ion rule.” Redmond said in frustration, “That doesn’t explain anything.”
“We think it does.” Trunch stepped forward. “From what’s been discussed here, what we’ve found, and what Klept has told us – we think it’s starting to make sense.”
Redmond folded his arms, “Well then,” he said, snide and sharp, “ please enlighten those of us who have spent a lifetime studying the Court as to what it all means.”
Umberto growled and stepped forward, but Din placed a gauntleted hand on his chest.
Day moved to Trunch’s side. “The stars were the missing piece. We couldn’t figure them out – until now. Until Klept’s discovery.”
Trunch nodded. “The last eclipse, three full days, lines up almost perfectly with when Klept said Lord Ieoyoch seized control of the Court.”
“He used the darkness,” Day continued. “Three days without sunlight. Time to move unseen, strike fear, sow chaos. He eliminated the Court’s leaders and took control while the valley was still reeling.”
“Terrify them,” Trunch said. “Feed on them. Turn them. In a single long night, he became a tyrant.”
Redmond frowned but said nothing.
“It wasn’t random,” Day went on. “Ieoyoch knew it was coming.”
Trunch stepped toward the map. “Just like his followers do now. And just like before, they’re ready for it.”
“During Ieoyoch’s reign,” Day said, “the Court became obsessed with this resurrection crystal.” He reached for one of the medallions on the table. “We think these are infused with it – crystal fragments, ground down and mixed into the metal.”
“There’s necromantic enchantment on them too,” Trunch added. “That’s why we’ve also found them on undead.”
“But they wanted something bigger,” Day said, his eyes drifting to the pillar of light in the distance. Another star went out. “Something more powerful.”
“They have it,” Travok cut in with a voice of resignation. “At the castle. It’s there.”
“We didn’t see it,” Yun said softly. “But it’s definitely there.”
Day turned to the older party and nodded to Hothar. “You said it was somewhere in the upper floors.”
Hothar nodded slowly, but the rest of the other party fell silent, until Svaang spoke from the far corner of the room, each word chosen carefully.
“There’s some kind of enchantment protecting it. We couldn’t get to the upper levels. We got lost. Separated.” He lowered his gaze. “That’s when we lost Adina.”
“What do you mean, enchantment?” Umberto barked.
“The castle wouldn’t let us ascend,” Yun said. “It kept… changing.”
Carrie fluttered down and perched on a nearby stool. “That definitely sounds like magical protection.”
“Gods, I hate magic,” Umberto muttered, throwing himself onto a chair. “Whatever happened to guarding valuable things by hitting people?”
Day turned back to Redmond. “The Court knew smaller crystal shards could bring things back. They’d tested that. Ieoyoch believed the full crystal could do more.”
“Keep loyalists close. Revive his dead. Maybe even extend his own life,” Trunch said grimly. “Unnaturally. Indefinitely.”
“When they found it,” Day said, glancing at Din – who nodded solemnly, “they slaughtered an entire people to keep it secret. They spent decades erasing centuries of history to hide what they’d done. And now they’re going to use it.”
“If that beam is any indication,” Trunch added, “they already have.”
The entire room turned toward the window. Another star went out.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint crackle of parchment as Tufulla turned a page behind them.
Redmond exhaled and slowly unfolded his arms.
“…It actually does make sense,” he admitted, though the words sounded like they tasted bitter. “The dates. The eclipse. The timing of Ieoyoch’s rise. The Court’s obsession with the crystal.”
He looked out at the pillar of light, still burning over the mountains.
“If the ritual’s begun…”
He didn’t finish.
The room fell silent again.
“It’s not just us who are too late,” Tufulla said at last, voice low. “The Royal Guard is behind the curve as well.”
He reached beneath his robes and produced a folded missive, sealed in deep crimson wax. He laid it on the desk with care.
“A squad of the Brothers of Midnight is already en route to the valley. Dispatched under direct orders from their commander – by command of the King himself.”
Din’s eyes narrowed. “When?”
“Very soon I’m afraid,” Tufulla replied. “They should arrive within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“They’ll want control of the investigation,” Osman muttered.
“They’ll assume control of everything,” Trunch said.
“And if that beam is still in the sky when they get here…” Redmond didn’t finish the thought.
Tufulla gave a weary nod. “Then all of this; our findings, our efforts, will be buried under protocol and posturing. And by then…”
Another star went out.
There was a slow hiss from the window. Wikis.
Through all of the commotion and talk, Wikis had said nothing.
She crouched on the windowsill. Her eyes never left the sky. One hand rested on her bow. The other clutched the pouch at her hip where she kept her shinies, her knuckles white against the leather cord.
She hadn’t spoken since the stars began to fade. Now, her eyes darted across the sky, brows furrowed. Her grip on her bow tightened.
“Right, fuck this,” Umberto growled, rising from his chair with axe in hand. “I say it’s time we went to the castle.”
Yak lit up and unclipped two daggers from his belt. “I’m in.”
“Hold on,” Redmond said, raising a hand. “You can’t just march up there. From what you’ve told us, you’re vastly outnumbered.”
“Just means more people to hit,” Umberto snapped.
“It’ll take hours to reach it, even at full gallop,” Redmond added.
“So we should’ve left days ago,” Umberto shot back.
“We need time to prepare,” Osman said.
“We don’t have time,” Umberto snapped. “And preparation tends to just get in the way.”
“And, you’re not coming,” Din said firmly, rolling his shoulders.
Tufulla stepped in, calm but sharp. “What exactly do you plan to do if you make it there?”
“Make a very big fucking mess,” Umberto said with a broad smile.
“Try to stop that light,” Trunch added, energy crackling at his fingertips. “And whatever ritual is tied to it.”
“Oh, I love crashing parties I’m not invited to,” Carrie squealed, practically vibrating with excitement.
Day glanced toward Tufulla. “We’ll give you more time to work things out here.” He opened the door and called to a nearby guard. “Run to the stables. We need eight horses, the fastest they’ve got.”
The guard blinked, clearly ready to object, until he caught sight of Tufulla.
Tufulla gave him a simple nod.
“Of course, Mayor Tufulla.” The guard turned and jogged off across the square.
Tufulla shrugged. “Bureaucracy occasionally has its perks.”
“Eight horses? I thought you said we weren’t coming,” Osman said, confused.
“You’re not,” Day replied, cold and flat. He pointed at me. “He is.”
“I don’t think -” I began.
“Thinking’s not your friend when you’re storming a castle,” Umberto cut in. “Don’t think. Just record. I want accuracy in the songs and tales of my heroic demise.”
Yak slid up beside me and draped an arm across my shoulders.
“We’ll keep you safe,” he said with a grin. “Ish.”
Tufulla straightened and spoke in a voice more official than he likely intended. “Right. You head to the castle and… do whatever it is you plan to do.”
“Plan…” Carrie giggle-snorted. The sound did not inspire confidence – at least not in Redmond or Tufulla.
“We’ll send word,” Tufulla continued, recovering. “Gather whatever guards and men we can spare from across the valley and send them after you. We still need to protect the towns.”
“Do it quickly,” Din said. “You’ve only got a few hours. A large group will move slower than us.”
“You could take the tunnels,” Svaang offered quietly.
Everyone in the room who wasn’t part of his adventuring party turned to look at him – including Wikis, whose eyes left the sky for the first time since we’d returned.
“Under the ruins of Ahagan’s Tower,” he said, pointing to the map. “There’s a tunnel network. It’ll take you through the mountains, just north of the castle.”
“It’s too risky,” Travok growled. “Too many chances for ambush. And it’s a maze down there. They don’t know the way.”
Trunch folded his arms. “I want to know more about those tunnels,” he said. “When we get back.”
“Too much talking,” Umberto barked. “We’re wasting time. As usual.”
“If only there were a faster way…” Trunch muttered. “A spell. An artifact. Something.”
Carrie perked up. “The stumps. We could use the stumps. Aren’t they… teleportation things?”
I looked up for the first time since learning they planned to take me with them to the castle. “We think so, but we don’t know how to activate—”
A rush of movement. A case toppled. Papers scattered.
Wikis was already at the door, bow raised, fingers twitching to loose the arrow she had nocked.
Then,
A crash.
Not the sound of entry. The sound of destruction.
Stone. Shattered.
Screams echoed through the square.
A shout from outside: “TO ARMS!”
All eyes turned, first to the door, then to the window.
In the center of the square, half-clutching and half-crushing the fountain, stood a dragon. Its scales shimmered crimson and coal-black in the scattered torchlight. A low, reverberating growl curled from its throat. The sweep of its tail shattered a storefront. A support beam cracked, snapped, and collapsed in a roar of splintered wood. Its wings flared wide, casting the street in shadow. Something in the air shifted; hot and metallic, like breath before a storm.
I didn’t remember standing. I only knew I had drawn my quill like a knife.
Day quietly moved to Wikis’ side and gently pulled her from the open doorway, “Wait.” He said. “It hasn’t attacked, we don’t want to provoke it.”
The dragon loomed. It didn’t just want to be seen, it wanted to be felt.
It rose up, slow and deliberate, and scanned the square. Then it leaned low and sniffed the air. A large, empty saddle sat on its back.
“Where is he?”
The voice was heat and weight – a forge’s bellows turned into sound.
“I can smell his presence.”
Each syllable struck like steel: sharp, clipped, furious.
“Release him. Return him to me, and I’ll be merciful.”
A pause. No one breathed.
“Give me Dominic.”
Day exhaled. “Oh shit.”
“Dominic is here?” Yun’s voice cracked, their pain almost visible.
“Not all of him,” Day replied, glancing toward Svaang.
“We kind of killed him,” Carrie whispered. “His head is in a cupboard at our bar.”
“Oh Gods,” Osman whimpered, and crawled under the desk. “Ezzorath be merciful.”
“It’s true,” Svaang said quickly, nodding. “They showed it to me on the way here.”
“Ha.” Travok barked a laugh – then caught himself. “Good riddance to him,” he muttered.
“Something tells me that’s not going to make this fellow happy,” Tufulla said, motioning to the dragon, which had begun swaying outside, impatient and immense.
A flash of orange-yellow light.
The temperature spiked.
Screams tore through the air. A storefront caught fire in an instant. Smoke bloomed, thick and fast.
“Show him to me!” the dragon roared.
“My patience wanes.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Umberto spat. “I say we take it down.”
Wikis side-eyed him and hissed, “It’s a dragon.”
“Well, I’m not going out there to tell it,” Carrie said flatly.
“One of us is going to have to,” Trunch said. “The longer we stall, the more people get hurt.”
“I’ll do it,” Din said, adjusting his gauntlets.
Yak wandered to the table, picked up a medallion, and swallowed whatever he’d been chewing. Then he placed a hand gently on Din’s shoulder.
“I’ve got this, guys,” he said casually. “I’ll meet you up at the castle.”
He turned toward the door, and began to shift.
“I’ve got this,” he murmured again, under his breath – his voice changing mid phrase.
By the time he crossed the threshold, brushing crumbs from his chest, Yak was gone. In his place stood Dominic — eyes sharp, posture colder, swagger calculated.
He stepped down the office steps, past guards frozen in place, and began crossing the square toward the ruined fountain.
Inside, the entire room held its breath.
“Hey, buddy,” he called cheerily. He held up the medallion and sheathed a dagger with an exaggerated schtk. “Just collecting something that was taken from me. Left a bit of a mess in there.”
The dragon eyed him slowly, cautiously, then lowered its head and sniffed the air.
“You’re needed for the completion,” it rumbled. “Time is fleeting.”
“I was just thinking that,” Yak said casually, stepping closer.
“You are late. I take it your plan worked, and the targets are eliminated.”
“Oh sure. Every single one of them. Took them all out myself.” Yak replied. He was getting bolder with every step.
The dragon sniffed again. Its nostrils flared.
Its eyes burned.
“Where is he?” The voice was heavy and gravelly rasp.
Yak didn’t break stride. “Tufulla? Took him out. He’s in there.” He pointed back toward the office, smiling. “Left him bleeding out. I reckon he’s got about twenty seconds left in him.”
Inside, Tufulla frowned. “His presumptuousness is unsettling.”
“His whole being is unsettling,” I muttered.
“Unsettling or not, he’s got a pair on him,” Umberto noted with a nod, clearly impressed. “And it seems to be working.”
The dragon’s tail swished again. Another support column groaned under the strain. It cocked its head slightly.
“Hmm,” it rumbled. “Where is Dominic?”
“I’m right here, buddy,” Yak said. “You feeling okay?”
“I smell him on you, imposter.”
Din hefted his axe and started toward the door. “I don’t think it’s working anymore.”
The dragon straightened.
The air thickened, metallic, sulfurous. Hot.
“I smell his blood on you.”
“You look like him.“
“But him, you are not.”
It struck.
A blur of motion – massive talons carving the air.
Yak ducked and drew both daggers in a single, fluid move. The stone beneath him cracked from the force of the blow.
The dragon reared back. Thunder rolled in its throat.
The temperature spiked. Smoke curled.
Flames surged.
“Uh, guys?” Yak shouted, bolting for cover, voice climbing, face already shifting back to whatever passes for normal.
“Guys? Yeah, no. I don’t got this. Like, really don’t got this. Help!”
The dragon roared, louder than before. The windows shook in their frames.
“WHERE IS DOMINIC?”
An arrow screamed past Yak and struck the dragon in the neck – only to glance off its scales with a sharp ping. Wikis was already moving, bounding out the doorway, bow in hand. Din and Umberto charged after her. The others weren’t far behind.
“Dominic is dead,” Umberto snarled. “Took his head clean off myself.”
“IMPOSSIBLE!” the dragon howled. “You will suffer!”
“Maybe,” Day said, stepping across the threshold and drawing his sword, “but we’re not going down without a fight.”
The Chronicles of Klept 