Kastali Dun

Saffra descended into the depths of the keep, making her way down to the mysterious cave beneath. Desaree and Jocelyn followed behind her. Orbs illuminated their way, creating pools of light and shadow. Given her magical abilities, she'd volunteered to take the lead.

Nearly three days had passed since Claire's departure north. They were determined to find answers while she was away. Saffra had wanted to come sooner, but it was a challenge getting Desaree away from Verath these days, especially in the evening. The two of them spent an increasing amount of time together. But today, Verath was out in the city on a personal mission of sorts, leaving Desaree free for the taking.

"Tell me again about your dreams?" Desaree asked as they walked, retracing their previous path. They followed their original dusty footprints, but in the dim light, they were often forced to stop and backtrack.

"I've told you all I know," she answered, pausing to glance down a dark corridor that took off perpendicular to the one they followed. She frowned, glanced down again, and then continued on.

"Well, perhaps you missed something."

"Perhaps." She sighed. "Dreams are not as straightforward as visions. Even now, everything feels so vague."

"But aren't they the same thing? A telling of the future?"

She opened her mouth, but Jocelyn beat her to it. "Not necessarily, Des. Both can tell the future, the past, and the present. But Saffra's visions take her at any time. They are fully fleshed out scenes. Not so with her dreams, which come while she sleeps, and are usually difficult to comprehend, especially come morning."

"Which is why these have been particularly frustrating," she muttered, glancing down another darkened corridor before continuing on.

"Well, what do you remember?" Desaree asked.

She shrugged. "Just...dragons. Lots of them. A battle. The Drengr. Fear. Death. Loss. I..." She shook her head. "It's hard to say."

They descended a narrow flight of stairs, one after the other, which took them deeper underground. "Hmm...Dragons..." Desaree sounded thoughtful. "What if there is going to be a great battle between the dragons and the Drengr?"

"Gods, I hope not. But if current events are anything to go from, it seems inevitable." Saffra shuddered at the thought. "And if that's what I'm seeing, then it will likely happen sooner rather than later. But when? And where?"

"Perhaps in the North?" Desaree ventured. "Surely we're safe here."

"Safe indeed!" She snorted. "For how long? Here—I think it's down this hallway. These are our old footprints, and I remember the roughness of the walls."

"So there really is a cave?" Jocelyn asked.

"We wouldn't lie to you, dear Jocelyn," Saffra answered. All too soon, the narrow walls widened, spilling out into a vast space. "See? We're here." She sent along her orbs, soaring high into the center of the cavern, casting the entire chamber with a soft glow.

Jocelyn and Desaree crowded close to her, trying to get a better look.

"Incredible!" Jocelyn whispered. "To think, it's right under the city and no one knows about it."

"That was my reaction too," Desaree said.

"There—" Saffra pointed. "There's the Gate. And the monument building beside it." Everything looked exactly as it had when she and Desaree first discovered it. Untouched. Undisturbed.

"Let's get a closer look!" Jocelyn's voice oozed excitement. She shimmied past them and down into the cave, clearly more adventurous than Saffra might have expected.

They made their way out into the open, treading carefully around the gnarled formations growing up from the bottom. The air tasted of salt and sea, and if you listened, you could hear waves crashing against the walls in the distance.

Shadows danced about them, as if the cave had come alive with monsters. "Dagar," Saffra muttered, creating yet another orb that followed them closely. Each pulled a little at her energy, so if she made too many, she would grow quickly fatigued.

They circled the little building at the cave's center. "It looks like a large mausoleum," Desaree said, breaking the silence. "You know...for dead people. Maybe someone important is buried here. Ugh. I hope we don't find a bunch of bodies inside."

Saffra huffed. "I should hope not. But we cannot know until we open it."

"What if this is where Queen Isabella was laid to rest?" Desaree asked.

"I suppose anything is possible at this point." Saffra slowed, studying the walls. "But hopefully we find something more useful—something that might bring Claire answers about who she is and how she's tied to Princess Irelia. Something about how she might defeat Kane."

The structure was more than twice their height and as wide as it was tall—a perfect square. The roof was triangular, plopped on top. There were pillars spanning its front end. And it was made from a white limestone, a direct opposite to the obsidian Gate.

The outline of a door at the front drew them to it. "How do we get in?" Jocelyn asked. "There aren't any handles. It's just a smooth surface."

Saffra frowned. "Magic, probably. But for some reason, I'm hesitant to touch it. We have no idea what kind of spells could be protecting it. Defensive mechanisms. What might happen if we try to open it." She stood before it and held out her hand, careful not to make contact as she began muttering words of magic. Nothing happened. She tried a few more cantrips. Still, nothing.

"Oh come now, why don't you give it a push?" Desaree stepped forward.

"I...don't think that's a good idea, Des."

"What, you think it will zap you? Turn you into a frog? I'm sure it's fine." Before they could stop her, Desaree stepped forward and laid her hand on the smooth surface.

"Des—" Saffra stopped herself, watching with wide eyes. Nothing happened. She exhaled.

Desaree's smile was triumphant. "There. See? All safe."

A scratching sound made them shriek and jump back in unison.

"Gods above!" Jocelyn cried. "Des, what did you do?!"

Something scratched against the stone. They backed away.

"It's the dead," Jocelyn hissed. "You've disturbed the dead, Des. Now we're going to die."

"Oh hush, both of you." Saffra glanced up, immediately relaxing. "It's writing. Look. There." She pointed above the door frame. Symbols had appeared. She studied them, frowning. There was absolutely nothing familiar about them. "Not sure it's any help to us."

"They must mean something," Jocelyn said. "But what? They aren't our language."

"Maybe it's instructions for how to open the door?" Desaree asked.

"It very well could be." Saffra sighed. A dead end.

A minute later, the symbols disappeared. "Well, that's no help!" Jocelyn threw up her hands. Desaree rushed forward and placed her hand on the door again. The symbols reappeared.

"It's almost as if someone invisible is standing there, writing them in by hand," Saffra said. Her mind turned over, thinking through the various types of magic she knew of. "In all my training, I've never seen symbols like these."

"They must be Sprite language," Desaree said. "You know, for Queen Isabella."

"I'm not so sure, Des. I've seen Sprite writing. It doesn't look quite like this. No...this is different."

"But...what are we supposed to do then?" Jocelyn asked.

"We write it down," Saffra said. "And then we take it to the library to see if we can find the language it represents. Crack the code."

"And you think that will tell us how to open it?" Desaree chewed on the skin of her lower lip.

"Let's hope so," Saffra said. "I'd like to have something to tell Claire when she returns. She's counting on us."

They spent a little more time exploring the cave before returning to the keep for writing supplies. Then they hurried back down into the passageways to the cave. Saffra's handwriting was the best. She was put in charge of scrawling the symbols out onto the parchment.

"Wait!" Jocelyn called. "Come, look at this. The symbols look a lot like the ones on the Gate, don't they?" Jocelyn wandered around the rocky outcropping, kneeling down to study the broken fragments of the Gate.

Saffra and Desaree rushed over. "You're right." Saffra shook her head. "I hadn't even considered it, but you're right. We should write some of them down too."

They wrote everything they could copy. The symbols resembled glyphs of some kind. They weren't sure if each one represented a letter, a sound, or a word.

"Hopefully the library has some dusty old text to help us," Desaree muttered, clearly the most dejected of them.

By the time they returned to the keep, the evening meal was upon them. They ate quickly, speculating with hushed voices over what the letters might mean before heading to the library. Candles in hand, they split up and began searching through aisles of texts. Jocelyn still wasn't great at her letters, so she stuck by Saffra's side, occasionally wandering off, while Desaree took off to the opposite end.

Saffra went from book to book, pulling anything that mentioned ancient history or language. Jocelyn acted as her runner, carrying the books to a nearby table where they had set up. Once they had a stack that would take them months to work through, they sat down and began the odious task of flipping. Page after page.

"Let me see the parchment again," Desaree asked every so often. Each time she looked at it, her frown deepened. "No...no. That won't do." A frustrated sigh escaped her lips.

"Just keep trying," Saffra murmured without looking up from the book she held. She had already flipped through several texts herself with no luck.

Someone shuffled over to them. "My dears, it is awfully late. Can I help you find something?" Master Roland, the resident librarian, had appeared. He eyed their stack with a frightful glare. No doubt imagining all the work he had ahead of him if they snuck away without cleaning up.

His gaze fell upon the parchment. "Interesting. May I?" It was too late to tuck it away. The three of them stared back at him with open mouths, too surprised to reply before he snatched it up. "Hm..." He stooped, hands clasped behind his back, figure bowed at the waist, for a closer look. "Strange. I feel as if I have seen it before...but no. I cannot remember. Who wrote this? What is it?" He glanced between them. "What does it mean?"

"Well," Saffra said, "that's what we're trying to find out. It's copied. From...well, I can't say. But we're trying to figure out what it means. We think its a language of some sort. We are searching for a source that might tell which one. You think you've seen it before? In this library, perhaps?"

"Bah! No. But perhaps on my travels. I have been to many libraries around the world before coming here."

"But this is the capital's biggest and only library. We're more likely to find what we need here, aren't we?" Saffra hadn't meant to sound so desperate.

"Not necessarily, my lady. I know every book in my library..." He frowned. "You won't find that language in any of them. It's...old. Very old."

"You...you're sure?" Desaree snatched the parchment from the table, looking at it again, so closely it nearly kissed her nose.

Roland shrugged. "You're better off looking in the library at Northedge. It is the oldest in the kingdom...Well, the Sprite's probably have one that's older. But don't let me stop you from trying." He turned to leave. "And make sure you put those back where you found them before you go!"

They waited until his shuffling faded away, exchanging silent glances.

"Do you think he was lying?" Desaree asked at last.

Saffra sighed. "Roland is quite knowledgeable. But he is old...and his memory...Well, he did seem to recognize it at first." She scowled.

"Don't you think it's strange? The writing on the mausoleum matches that on the gate. It cannot be a coincidence."

"We don't know for certain that it is a mausoleum, Jocelyn. I know you want to believe there are dead bodies in there, but I'm not so sure. And after all the work we're going to, there had better not be!"

Jocelyn shrugged. "Until we know otherwise..."

"But yes," Saffra added. "It certainly is interesting."

"If the two writings are the same, doesn't that mean it was made by the same people?" Desaree cut in.

Saffra opened and closed her mouth several times. "I..." She frowned. "I guess you're right. Gods! I've been so consumed with Queen Isabella, I've almost tricked myself into thinking it was her doing. After all, she built this keep. But...you're right. Each Gate was made by the Asarlaí."

"So that means the writing is from the Asarlaí time too," Desaree said, sitting up straighter. "We should have realized that before."

Saffra groaned, sinking low on the bench. "Which means we just wasted so much time. Why didn't I think of it sooner? And perhaps that is why Roland thought he recognized it. He must have encountered some writing similar to it during his travels."

Desaree sighed. "I think we've been so caught up, we merely forgot to use simple logic."

"Happens to the best of us, I suppose." Saffra tried to hide her scowl as she eyed the stack of books they now needed to return. She was so, so tired. Her mind turned over at a sluggish rate.

"What about Marcel?" Jocelyn asked. "He has an extensive knowledge of magic. Perhaps he might know?"

"You're brilliant!" Saffra threw her arms around Jocelyn and kissed her cheek. "I'm so tired I'm not even thinking clearly."

"Or maybe your dreams are simply taking a larger toll than you realize," Jocelyn muttered, scowling.

It wasn't the first time her handmaiden had pointed it out. Jocelyn insisted that she ought to be taking Aegan to help her sleep better. But she didn't like how disconnected it made her.

"I...I'll go and ask him tomorrow."

They returned their books—a tedious task, as always—and retreated to their rooms to sleep. That night, Saffra dreamt of more dragons. This time, she was forced to watch as they bathed sections of a large port city in flame. She tried to remember specific details before they slipped away. But it was almost impossible, especially once she was up and about the following morning.

After hurrying through her daily routine, she visited Marcel in his study, eager to solve their mystery but also excited for other reasons. "Any news on Dax?" she asked the moment she entered. Ever since the loss of his memories, she had been checking on Dax daily, but the answer was always the same.

"I'm afraid not, my dear." Marcel's eyes were sad. "I believe it is time to send him on his way."

"His...his way?"

"Yes...I have sent him away."

"A—away?"

"Dax believes that if he goes back to his old routine, he might remember some of what he used to know. He knows you've been checking on him and he requested that I not tell you immediately—that he be left to his own devices without interference. He has taken the loss of his mind very...personally."

"Oh." She faked a smile, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. Dax had wanted very little to do with her now that he no longer remembered her. That hurt the most. Guilt, perhaps, for not remembering who she was. It was hard to be certain.

"Well," she said, trying to sound cheery, "I'm sure retracing his footsteps will help. As long as you feel certain that we can trust him?"

Marcel shrugged. "You knew him better than most. Do you feel that his mind was manipulated by Kane?"

She opened and closed her mouth. "I...I suppose not. But Kane can fool even the king."

Marcel hesitated. "Yes, that was my concern too. But I cannot keep him here any longer."

"So, he is back in the barracks?" Her heart quickened. Perhaps she would go and see him. No. No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Not if he didn't want to see her.

"Yes. And I know what you are thinking, Saffra. Give him space."

Her heart stuttered. "It...hurts. His avoidance."

Marcel put a hand on her shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Love always hurts. Now, what brings you in today? I can tell there is something else on your mind."

"Oh...yes. Right." She fumbled in her pocket for her parchment and held it out to him, explaining her quest to find out more about the Asarlaí's language. "Might you have any books that depict their writing?"

"Hm..." He looked over the parchment before handing it back. "Let me see..." He moved over to his bookcases. "I'm afraid I haven't much on the Asarlaí language as a whole. But I do have some of their script. However—" He removed a small stack of old tomes from various locations and set them before her. "None of them come with interpretations." He eyed her for a moment. "Where did you get that, anyway?"

"The writing on the Gates," she answered.

"How in the name...how did you manage that?" His eyes narrowed. "The closest gate to us is leagues away."

Her heart hammered in her chest. "Oh, well, when I was a little girl we had one near Brushbridge, remember? The Austar Gate."

"And you...you went and copied down its glyphs when you...eight? You've had them all this time? Gods, girl! Didn't anyone warn you to stay away from there?"

"Oh come now, Marcel. The Gates aren't that dangerous if you don't go through them. Besides, Claire came from one, did she not?"

"Yes...but..." Marcel sighed. "Oh never mind. You have a mind for adventure. Very well. Look through those, but don't count on anything. Like I said, you won't find a dictionary that translates the writing." He gave her another peculiar look before moving away to his desk.

Marcel was not one to loan out books, except perhaps on the rarest occasion. She was forced to comb through each on her own. She worked for hours, skipping the midday meal. Marcel left her alone, but she noticed the quizzical looks he shot in her direction.

The work was time consuming and tedious. She flipped and flipped. When she found a set of glyphs in one of the books, she nearly squealed, but her excitement was short lived. The symbols were copied down with only a loose interpretation about what they meant. Mostly as an example of the writing. "Why write it down if you are not going to say exactly what it means?" she muttered, snapping the book closed before moving on to the next.

It took her two days to flip through all the material Marcel had provided. Most of the content was historical, telling of deeds and events involving the Asarlaí. She did find one image of the Kengr Gate sketched out, its glyphs written in meticulous hand; many of the symbols matched the ones she had copied. But none of it got her any closer. At last, she was forced to give up.

That night, she admitted defeat to Desaree and Jocelyn as they sat for the evening meal. "Claire will be back in a few days, and we are no closer to solving it." Disappointment riddled her voice. One task. That's all Claire had given them. "I feel as if we have accomplished nothing."

"At least we know more though," said Desaree.

"Like what?" Saffra pushed her food around on her plate.

"We know that both the building and the Gate were put there by the Asarlaí. So we've got a lead."

Saffra snorted. "Well, the only living Asarlaí is Kane, and unless you plan on asking him to decipher the script for us, we're no closer to answers."

Jocelyn remained silent, a frown pulling at her eyebrows.

Later that night, Saffra donned a cloak and snuck away, making her way to the barracks, hoping to find Dax. She didn't plan to confront him, not when he didn't want to see her. But she needed to know that he was okay.

She wasn't a soldier, and thus, she was forced to sneak through and stick to the shadows. She used an incant to disguise the light around her and increase the shadow, making it easier to go unnoticed. She managed to get to the end of the main corridor undetected.

Rambunctious shouts of laughter drifted from open double doors at the end, spilling light out into the corridor. She let go of the magic and peeked around the corner, holding her breath. The mess hall. And it was full. Dinner was long over, but the occupants were gathered around card tables. Her gaze darted over their faces until she settled on Dax. Her breath snagged in her chest. He sat alone, drinking, watching the activities with a blank look.

"Oh gods," she whispered. A single tear freed itself from her cheek. Seeing him brought a wealth of emotion to the surface, making it difficult to breathe.

"Hey! Who are you...?! You're not allowed in here." A voice made her jump.

She pivoted, careful to keep her face in shadow. "I was just going," she gasped, rushing away before she could be stopped. She raced through the barracks and into the keep until her feet took her to her chambers. There she shed her cloak and crawled into bed, weeping until she fell asleep and dreamt of more dragons.

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐