— Keira —

As she sat in the wagon Keir decided to take advantage of the somewhat forced downtime. If they were going to have to camp through the day she might as well rest.

That decision lasted all of an hour. She’d been so active since becoming undead, she had not realized how empty her downtime would be. Typically when she’d been alive even her quiet moments in camp were rarely just doing nothing. If nothing else, simple survival required actions to be taken.

Eventually, she would likely need one or more of the special crops she unlocked but until then she didn’t need to eat or drink. That meant she didn’t have to hunt or gather food for her next meal to avoid being stuck with trail rations or fetch and purify water for cooking or drinking. She also didn’t need to gather wood for a fire.

She might have at least done some field maintenance on her gear but everything she had was either too far gone to fix with her limited tools and expertise or enchanted to one degree or another. Even the simplest magical items were immune to or repaired basic wear and tear. She’d cleaned her sword immediately after the fight so she didn’t even have that task left to do.

She also still showed no signs of needing sleep so she couldn’t even pass time with a nap. Her plan for a relaxed and lazy day was quickly turning into the prospect of spending hours with nothing to do other than staring off into the middle distance bored out of her mind. Worse, as she sat there she realized that there were at least three days of that in front of her and likely even more.

Her first thought was discarded almost as soon as it came. Yes, Antheia almost certainly had quite a few books with her, probably including some Keir would find helpful and or intersting. It was also a very bad idea to open the tent containing a pair of vampires just before noon on a sunny day. Catching someone on fire was not exactly the best way to ask for a favor. She would have to save that option for after dark.

She could look for a sparring partner but none of the others who could move freely in the sun were dedicated combat classes. Hybrid classes could also be formidable fighters at times but they were rarely the sort of people who sparred for entertainment.

At least thinking about classes finally made her think of something she could do that would kill time and could even be useful. She settled in more comfortably with her sword resting across her lap and turned her focus inward. Having done so before it was much easier to find the feeling of crashing waves within her soul. Soon enough she found herself standing on obsidian sands looking out at the Sanguine Sea.

She was starting to get used to the passage of time within her soulscape so was less worried she would spend too long exploring, though she would still err on the side of caution.

As Keir approached the steps she felt something was subtly different but couldn’t immediately place the change. Ignoring the feeling seemed a very foolish plan. Instead she examined the gateway closer and found no change. When even close scrutiny failed to yield results she moved her focus to the stairs.

The difference was subtle but when she finally noticed it, she couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to identify it. The strange black sandstone steps were carved with ancient faded runes. The first time she’d tried to study them her mind had simply slid off of them without retaining any details. Studying them now they remained more of an impression of runes than something she could even attempt to decipher but she understood they were somehow akin to the language within the library she’d found, albeit somehow far grander. Understanding a portion of the other language was painful but she got the impression that trying to comprehend even a fraction of a single rune carved into the stairs would burn out her mind like trying to channel lightning through a piece of straw.

As she looked at the runes she didn’t feel dread at their power, instead she felt a small grin tug at her lips. She had no doubt that if she could walk the path before there would come a time when she could not only see and understand the ancient and powerful runes, she would be able to use them herself. Somehow she knew the runes weren't a threat or a warning; they were a test and a promise carved into her soul.

Boyed by her find she set off confidently into the darkness below. When she reached the temple on the seafloor she paused to offer her gratitude and respect to Mortis before entering the strange labyrinthine library.

Even knowing what to expect, walking through the clinging shadows into the maze of marble shelves filled with countless books bound in all manner of materials was somewhat disorienting.

Once again her first instinct was to examine the metal plaque. Neither the writing nor her ability to understand it had changed so she turned her attention to the rest of the room. She had hours instead of minutes to kill so she decided to be more thorough in her examination.

With only the strange distorted echo of her footsteps for company Keir set off in the same direction she had started to explore the first time. After finding a chest alongside the books she now knew that there was likely more than books, and the plaques that might allow her to read them, worth finding.

Keir was unarmed the same as she was the first time despite entering her soulscape with her sword laying across her lap and her hand on the hilt. She hoped that meant there were no threats hiding among the shelves but as her footsteps echoed strangely around her she found it hard to believe that was the case.

As she scanned the shelves Keir could feel a bit of a headache coming on. Being able to understand only fragments of words and the ideas they carried was uncomfortable enough she was tempted to skip checking the shelves closely until she could read more of the strange fractal runes. Instead she gave into a different temptation and removed a book bound in dark leather from the shelf.

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It was a heavy tome at least three inches thick with odd silvery gray thin pages. The glossy dark leather was stamped with the fractal writing she was growing familiar with, even though she could understand very little of it. Of all of the books on the nearest shelves it was the one whose title she could understand the most. From what she could understand it said “***ie** B***t* o* *** *r**en Du**s”. In addition to the letters she could interoperate she also got a flash of an impression of crystalline sands, claws, and a vast gulf of time.

Carefully opening the book she found the pages were covered in a dense scrawl of fractals. It also quickly became apparent that aside from words and impressions the same language also imparted images. She didn’t understand any more of the images than the words or concepts but they were still transmitted. As she stared at a page that gave her fragmentary glimpses of fur backed silver scales she was reminded of the jigsaw puzzles popular among gnomes. Specifically, she was reminded of the most complex and expensive ones with a thousand or more pieces made from rune etched crystal that displayed moving pictures. The images shown by the fractals were like one of those puzzles with a dozen random pieces laid out in their proper place and the rest missing.

Between the images, impressions, and text she suspected that someone who could fully read the language would be able to gain a remarkable amount of information and comprehension of the book's subject. She wasn’t a scholar but she still found the prospect enticing.

After carefully slotting the book back in its place, she resumed her exploration. Over the next hour or so she found the area the small chest had been and a small hexagonal rust colored crystal the size of her last pinkie joint sitting in an inlaid section of a bottom shelf. She was starting to think her luck had dried up however as she’d walked at least twice that long without finding anything other than books she still couldn’t read. That entire time the feeling of being stalked from just out of sight persisted; if anything it had gotten stronger. She was somewhat preoccupied with that thought when she turned a blind corner and froze in her tracks.

The short section of corridor led into a dead end area about ten feet to a side with a small sitting area in the middle. A comfortable looking old leather chair sat beside a small table with a tumbler and a familiar green sea glass bottle and small tome bound in driftwood with silversteel inlaid fractal writing. A section of the bookshelf the chair faced was a fireplace burning the oddly opalescent color of souls.

She barely noticed any of that however. Instead two things consumed her focus. First there was another metal plaque hanging above the fireplace. Secondly she saw her sword leaning against the side of the chair; firelight glinting of its black blade making it appear to swirl even more than usual.

Keir couldn’t help but wonder why she had found her weapon as she walked into the sitting area. A few steps from the empty chair she stopped abruptly and a fraction of second later tensed ready to leap for her blade. She had taken ten steps but the echo took eleven.

— Minira —

As Minira walked through the streets of Stonesheild towards the staging area by one of the main entrances to the Underways she was careful not to let her anger show on her face or posture. Despite that, she could feel it crackling like the lightning she favored throughout her entire body.

Once she had displayed her emotions openly as was befitting of an Archmage of the Eternal Tempest. That was one of the many things she hadn’t allowed herself for the last five years.

Perhaps it was in part a form of self flagellation but for a moment she let herself think of what may have been. Rather than let herself dwell on the people she lost, the people she failed to protect, she thought of what she was on the cusp of having. She thought about the name she’d decided to take when she finalized her retirement. The name she would have combined with the man she loved and would have gifted to her young son.

A few years before everything went wrong they had moved to the small village they’d decided to retire in while she finished what she needed to do before she could join them.

When everything had gone wrong she was out of contact in the deep caverns miles beneath the surface dealing with a horde of Cavern Spawn before they could reach a critical mass and attack Stonesheild from below.

Even if she was willing to spare herself the pain; she couldn’t have stopped the memory of what came next from bubbling to the surface of her mind. Even if she lived another eight hundred and seventy eight years she doubted she would ever forget the moment she returned to the castle to report her success. She would never forget the king bowing deeply with tears of shame and regret allowed to spill freely as he informed her that the entire village including her family had perished. She wouldn’t even be allowed to retrieve any remains until the village's own vengeance had played out one way or the other.

She was almost at her destination so she pushed her memories down deep. She could have waited a bit longer to march out of the city but she had waited long enough. As soon as she had left the meeting she gathered the officers she trusted the most to assemble a force with all possible haste. As a tier six she doubted she would actually need the forces she commanded but orders were orders and she wasn’t the only person who’d lost families when Still-Leaf fell.

As she passed through the gates she saw five hundred dwarves in heavy plate armor lined up in perfect formation. Standing just as rigidly at the side of each dwarf was a large scaly backed rams with black stone horns curling up from their heads. Each mount wore heavy armor attached to their saddles that covered the few relatively soft points.

At the head of the formation was a middle aged female dwarf wearing such heavy armor that only her face showed her gender, even that was only visible because she held her horned helm under one arm. Standing next to the woman was one of the most impressive stone horned ram Minira had ever seen.

Not far away from the army stood Minira’s own personal mount, Torrent. Torrent was a powerful war drake, a flightless distant cousin of dragons, with dark blue and black scales.

As Minira reached them the army stood to full attention and the woman at their head saluted crisply and said “Archmage Minira, The Roaring Rockslide Brigade is at yer command. What’re orders?”

“Thank you General Stonefury. We will travel via the Underways about half the distance before traveling along the old trade route the rest of the way.” Minira said as she let a unique crackle of electricity ark between her fingers, calling Torrent to her. When the mount reached her she swung up onto the saddle and continued “And then at long last we find justice.”

She could see the savage grin on the general's face before her helmet covered it and with a rumble that very much matched their namesake The Roaring Rockslide Brigade charged down the tunnel into the Underways with Minira and General Stonefury at their head.