A bright orange blush framed the jagged foreground of treetops and mountain peaks, drifting into a purply blue glow. The universe offered a fleeting moment of unbridled beauty on the worst day of her young life. Iskvold forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Standing alone in the courtyard, her thoughts returned to the carefully arranged bodies at her feet. As the frustration reemerged, the pain of loss and self-loathing of her absence flashed in her brain. She looked down to find her hands clenched into fists so tight her fingernails bit into her palms. Overwhelmed by her powerlessness, tears of frustration silently streamed down her cheeks. We didn’t even have enough linens to cover them all.

  At the edge of her vision, two points of light bobbed towards her from the southwest. Watching their approach, she quickly made out the forms of Tsuta and Usha holding staves over their heads to light the path home. Only the two of them. Her stomach dropped.

  “Hail Tsuta, where are the others?” She called when they got within earshot, then stepped to the locked gate.

  “Hey Pinky,” came the reply. Deflated. Resigned. While she had used the formal greeting that the current circumstances warranted, his casual response told her something else was on his mind. The whine of aged iron pierced the evening silence as she opened the lock and swung the gate back to let them inside.

  “Dead, and both other beacons destroyed. How bad is it here?” Tsuta asked her, and she could only numbly tilt her head back over her right shoulder in response. As he raised his staff to increase the range of the magical light that burned from its tip, two rows of bodies in perfect lines stretched into view. All seventeen monks had been carefully laid on their backs, arms crossed over their chest, though only half were properly covered with linen. Tsuta exhaled audibly as his shoulders slumped. Seeking and offering consolation, Iskvold unconsciously leaned into the new arrivals. The three embraced silently for several moments before Usha began to weep quietly, her sobs muffled in Iskvold’s shoulder.

  “What about the attackers?” Tsuta asked as he pulled back. Iskvold extended a left thumb behind her as she held the acolyte to her chest.

  Tsuta raised his staff again as he stepped past her, and a pile of charcoal grey limbs and torsos appeared out of the retreating darkness. Unlike their fallen comrades, the creatures showed no care in their arrangement, making it difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. Tsuta studied them intently as he circled the remains. Lifting one of the tails, he winced as the second creature’s head was fully exposed. Skin as black as midnight, jagged teeth, and a menacing horn. Even death didn’t soften its savagery and intimidation.

  “Anyone know what they are?” he asked calmly, though his mind was already racing ahead, probing thousands of possible connections from his evening’s observations.

  “No idea,” she said. “We just call them hookheads; nothing else fits.” Usha straightened up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to regain control of her breathing. Iskvold squeezed the dwarf’s arm reassuringly and reached past her to close and relock the gate.

  “We should debrief with Sifu. He will want to hear about the other beacons.” She instinctively put her arm around Usha’s shoulder, guiding her back toward the abbey entrance. Tsuta dropped the tail, wiping his hands repeatedly on his leg before following them inside. The smell of burnt wood reached his nostrils as he crossed the threshold, lost in thought.

  “Almost everything was ruined by the fire, but we managed to tidy up the mess hall. We’re all squatting there for the moment.” Iskvold gave the cloakroom door a shove, and it groaned reluctantly on its hinges before granting them passage. Only two of the long tables still stood; the rest lay in a charred pile in the corner. A low fire flickered in the hearth, providing the only source of light, and the smell of sweat, burnt varnish, and char wafted on the warm air escaping into the cloakroom. When the door announced their arrival, the occupants all turned to the newcomers. Sifu Haft was seated at the table facing them, with Nori to his left. Esmi, How, and Jin occupied the other side. Though they all rose, only Sifu crossed the room.

  “Tsuta, very glad to see you! Where are the others?” Tsuta pursed his lips and shook his head. The older man retreated to the table as the acolytes parted, allowing room for Tsuta, Usha, and Iskvold to sit.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  “Tell me everything.”

  Tsuta drew a deep breath, eyes fixed vacantly on the table’s pockmarked surface as he spoke. What followed was a chilling stream of facts, each landing a fresh and painful blow to his already beleaguered audience. He detailed Usha’s frantic arrival, the destroyed beacons, the remains of the shelters, and their contents. When he got to his discovery of both pairs of duty monks hundreds of feet below the overlook, broken and almost unrecognizable, Haft’s jaw flexed with controlled rage. Gasps rose from several of the recruits. Iskvold didn’t budge. Already emotionally exhausted, she had nothing left to give. If I could have even a couple hours alone in the Vault, to recharge. The only thing she felt was a stiffening resolve.

  As he finished speaking, silence fell over the group for several moments until Tsuta raised his head and looked around at the long faces of his brothers and sisters.

  “Where’s Graver?” he asked.

  “I sent him to the Crystal Dawn and asked him to activate the Pact, though we may be on our own for a while—he had to go on foot.”

  Sifu continued, “What I don’t understand is how the hookheads got to the beacons and into the abbey without anyone noticing. They had to pass right by here to get to the outposts, or you would have seen them coming through one of the passes.”

  “I may be able to answer that,” Tsuta said. “There was one other thing I noticed…”

  Sifu Haft held the monk’s gaze and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  “Well, out with it, man! This is no time for dramatics!”

  Tsuta adjusted the mugs on the table into a straight line as he spoke. “At the central outpost, I saw a large swarm of ladybugs at the back of the plateau, next to the beacon. Southern outpost—same thing.”

  He looked around at the faces of his friends, finding only confusion.

  “So? …I’m not following,” Iskvold blurted impatiently, before raising her hand with a nod of apology, recognizing her depleted state.

  “I've learned that magic attracts ladybugs. It's something in the residual energy, a side-effect of the casting. It’s like they feed off the traces left behind.”

  Sifu was unconvinced. “So, you believe that because you found ladybugs, magic was used to bring the hookheads to the outposts? Maybe your detail-obsessed brain is seeing something that isn’t truly there. I mean, they live in these forests naturally.”

  “That’s just it,” Tsuta continued. “One or two, sure, but the first time I noticed it, I had cast a light spell onto a staff tip—like I did tonight. Within ten minutes, almost twenty ladybugs gathered directly where I cast the spell. They stayed for hours, writhing around in a frenzy.” He emphatically tapped his index finger on the tabletop. “Have you ever seen twenty in one place like that before?”

  Validated by the murmurs of denial around the table, he continued.

  “Magic attracts ladybugs. The stronger the spell, the more of them swarm to it. My most powerful spell brought fifty once. Tonight? At each outpost, I stopped counting at four hundred.”

  He left his conclusion hanging in the air, unspoken for several moments before Sifu Haft said it out loud.

  “You’re suggesting that not only was some kind of spell used to drop the hookheads on top of us, but it was extremely powerful?”

  “Exactly. Far more powerful than I’ve ever seen.”

  Sifu’s mustache twitched furiously as he silently considered the implications. “I want to think on this.”

  The room fell silent. From the furrow on his brow, Haft had more to say. The hiss and pop of burning wood from the mess hall’s fireplace droned in the background as they waited expectantly. Finally, he spoke.

  Turning his head to address what remained of the abbey’s order, he raised his chin. “I want you all to know that I am extremely proud of how everyone responded today in the face of disaster. We lost everything except who we are.” His lips pressed into a tight line as he rose, knuckles whitening against the table’s edge. “As I look around this table, I see resilience, courage, and the determination to make tomorrow a little better than today. I also feel the resolve necessary to get to the bottom of what happened here and bring justice for our brothers and sisters.” The abbey’s master straightened to his full height, raising his head defiantly. “As my own Sifu once said—If you come for the Luminarium, you’d best not miss! Today, someone missed, and I intend to make them regret that.”

  A chorus of hands thumping the table’s wooden surface echoed around the empty mess hall. As the reverberations died away, he continued.

  “I’m afraid tomorrow will be another very long and difficult day. We must send off seventeen of our brothers and sisters, and we’ll also have to figure out how to retrieve four more from below the outposts. Lean on each other. Let our shared sorrow be our strength… Now, I know it’s not the most comfortable…” He gestured to the battle mat on his right. “I had Esmi and Jin drag it in from the dojo. I think it’s best if we all sleep here tonight. Not to mention, it’s the only mat that survived the fire.” Sifu nodded at Tsuta and Usha. “Why don’t you two get something to eat? We’ve cobbled together some bread and soup in the kitchen. Then, I suggest we all try to get some rest.”

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

  Join my substack for: