The Crimson Dawn

Atlas was easy to spot away from the camp, it wasn’t just because she had a giant dragon beside her, but the bright red shawl she wore was in contrast to the dark. Altair stirred his vegetable soup as he watched her before taking another bite.

“So do we just stare at her until she starts screaming and pounding at her head like a melon or….” Idris came up beside Altair with his own bowl of soup, chewing the steamed vegetables as he looked up at Atlas as well. It had been a few nights since the undead attack, and there hadn’t been any other sign of them. As Idris kept pointing out, there wasn’t a sign of anything. “Where are we even going? Are we even walking in the same direction as when we started? Where is home if we want to turn back?”

“We don’t turn back until it is done,” Altair told the boy, a slight growl in his voice but Idris didn’t seem to notice. “We are heading the same way as when we started.”

“What about when we run out of food and water?”

“I have a spell for that,” Bastien came up beside Idris, giving Altair a sympathetic look.

“What if we want to turn back?” Idris groaned, Cyra came up on the other side of Altair and he wondered when everyone had decided it was safe to talk to him. She sat there, her bowl already finished and empty.

“We do our God given duty. The Gods called us to do this, gave us this chance to save our peoples from the Blood Snake and you suggest we turn back because you’re bored?” Cyra scoffed.

“What have the Gods, or our people ever done for us?” Esmer asked from the other side of the fire, and Altair was grateful that not everyone found it necessary to crowd around him.

“You don’t understand anything about duty, pirate,” she bit and Esmer’s smile fell.

“You know nothing about being a part of Shadowrend,” he growled, Eden shook her head as the anticipated arguing broke out.

“We have no time for squabbling like children,” Vale boomed, shutting it down before it had even begun. Atlas and Zale turned from where they sat to see what was going on. “Idris, stop bothering Altair. It’s too late for your second thoughts, much too late, bat.” They shook their head and Idris moved back over to sit with them. “As for you two,” Vale looked between Cyra and Esmer. “My father had a way of dealing with people who couldn’t get along, will I be forced to make you two go through it.”

“We aren’t children,” Cyra answered, earning her own glare from Vale.

“You are proving the opposite. We cannot help the way we are raised, as Atlas said before, and Esmer had no choice. He is Sea-Bound, he was taken as a child. To hold that against him is to act like an ignorant child,” Vale folded their arms, they had a way of making you feel like a child. Even if you weren’t the one being scolded. “So, do we need to do a bonding exercise?” Idris shook his head behind Vale and stopped when they turned to him, giving Vale an innocent smile as he took another bite of soup with an exaggerated slurp.

“No, Ser,” Esmer answered and Cyra nodded in agreement with the pirate.

“Look at that getting along already,” Vale smiled.

Altair set down his finished bowl at the back of the wagon before joining Zale, Atlas, and the Dragons away from the camp. “You had the right idea of it.” He mumbled as he plopped down in the cool sand.

Atlas looked at him. “How do we know we’re going the right way, Altair?” She asked him and he paused for a moment.

“We don’t. I don’t have the answers, Atlas, I wish I did. Knowing would make this a hell of a lot easier,” he sighed, and watched where the sky met sand.

✧

Eden looked at Esmer. “I haven’t seen someone control a storm like that.” She squinted her eyes at him.

Esmer shrugged as he stirred his uneaten soup. “Mistress of Storms, remember?”

Vale sighed. “What she means is that magic was thought to be gone with Sylverstorm.” Eden nodded in agreement.

“The third Human kingdom?” Cyra asked. “Did something happen to it?”

“It went into the damn sky, that’s what happened,” Idris said, looking up. “I wonder if they went up too high. What would happen if they went up too high? You think the sky is like Jello?”

“Stop acting like a crackhead,” Vale ordered, shaking their head.

“They went into the sky?” Bastien asked with a hint of disbelief.

Eden nodded. “Fifty years ago, they started a war, the Storm War, they tried taking over the world with some sort of device of lightning. Ten years later, they were losing and used that same device to go into the sky. We haven’t seen anything but glimpses of the island. Storms hide it. Altair would know more, the Elves helped stop Sylver storm and Altair was alive then.”

“Just how old is he?!” Idris asked, his mouth dropping to the floor. Drawing the attention of the three on the dunes again.

“Fifty,” Cyra stated.

“Oh, that’s not too old, I guess,” Idris paused and looked at Altair closely through the darkness, his eyes brightening a bit. “He looks younger than Cyra.”

“I’m twenty-six,” she responded, and Idris shrugged.

“He looks younger than Cyra.”

Vale rubbed the bridge of their nose. “One day… you’re going to get yourself hurt for saying stupid things and I won’t save you.”

Idris grinned as he looked back at his sibling. “Joke’s on you, I’ve already been hurt for saying stupid things.”

“Not something to be proud of,” Esmer smirked, chuckling a bit at him. “Too bad alcohol wasn’t brought along. I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

“We need it now,” Idris groaned, laying down on his back.

“You can do without it,” Vale growled, and Idris nodded back reluctantly.

It was only quiet for a few moments, as it usually was on nights like this. Eden looked up at the dunes as Altair called for them, and they quickly crawled up the dune to see what was so interesting.

“It better not be sand,” Idris grumbled under his breath.

“It won’t be sand,” Bastien assured him with a slight laugh. Once they made it to the top, Eden looked out as everyone else did, at the old mansion-like building a few miles away. An old iron gate surrounded the grounds and within was green.

“It appeared when the moon hit the peak,” Altair said, looking up where the Raven’s eye stared down at them.

“It can’t be real,” Eden shook her head. “Magic prevents anything from growing.”

“The iron gates aren’t rusted,” Vale pointed out, “it’s protected.”

Esmer pulled out his telescope from his back pocket, extending it to look closer. “It’s unkempt and overgrown, some of the roof has fallen in. If anyone lives there, they don’t mind the draft. There’s no light either, if this is the only time it can be seen, you’d think there’d be light.”

Vale took the scope from his hands and took a look. “Bloods would be surrounding the place; they would rust the gate like they did with the first one. They might not even know it exists.”

“A small sanctuary run by no one?” Eden shook her head. “It’s an obvious trap. That can’t be iron, or the whole thing is just an illusion.”

“It doesn’t feel evil,” Bastien told them, his arms extended, and his eyes closed, light permeated from his palms as he felt around with magic. “It’s not good but it certainly doesn’t come from blood.”

“If it’s not good then we should leave it alone,” Cyra nodded as if that settled it.

“It’s not evil either,” Zale told her. “It’s a refuge. While we should be careful, I don’t think we should leave it alone.”

“What if it’s not a refuge? What if it’s just a building that holds secrets?” Idris shrugged. “The night holds secrets. It’s why the Fox and Lady Raven get along.” The mention of secrets seemed to change Eden’s tune.

“We don’t know where we’re going. Might as well go there,” Altair told them and that seemed to be the final word on the matter as he turned around to the camp and started down the sand dune.

“Oh, so now you admit that we had no clue!” Idris called with a laugh as he slid down the sand and bounded to the camp.

✧

Vale and Esmer pried the gates open, holding them open for the rest of their companions, Idris and Bastien came through last as they pulled the wagon through. When the gates slammed shut, Idris and Bastien returned to their forms. The gates shuttered, shaking the whole fence line, it was almost like they held a mind of their own.

“I hate being a horse, so disorienting,” Idris muttered as he helped Bastien up to his feet again.

“You learn quickly though,” Bastien complimented as they separated.

Altair shushed them and they continued silently creeping through the garden hedges, their boots against the cobblestone walkway. It must’ve been beautiful once. Atlas heard a crunch under her foot, and it was like a stop button that Vale had shown her with one of their small devices, everyone turned to look at her. Atlas felt both Icarus and Apallon tense, but she held up her hand, telling them to stay with the wagon. She moved her foot carefully and bent down to pick up the round, silver glasses, dried blood on one of the broken lenses.

“Good sign,” Idris whispered, nodding and looking around as if he was trying to stay nonchalant. Atlas touched the blood lightly, hearing a guttural, choking sound before she quickly pulled away. “Are you doing your creepy death thing again?” Idris asked before he was elbowed in the ribs by his sibling.

“Are you okay?” Zale asked, putting his hand on her arm. Atlas nodded.

“Just the sound of someone choking on their own blood,” she shrugged it off and put the glasses in her satchel.

“Even better sign,” Esmer grumbled.

“Perhaps, I was right, and this place is no refuge, and we should’ve left it alone. It’s cursed,” Cyra mentioned.

Atlas shook her head. “He died when this place was abandoned.”

“Where’s his body?” Bastien asked, looking around like it was going to jump out at him. Atlas pointed at the house.

“Buried behind the house.”

“Looks like our creature of death might be able to give us some insight on what happened here,” Eden smiled, “Let’s get moving shall we?” She asked as she continued walking towards the big house.

“Death mojo,” Idris whispered, and he grunted again, this time the hit coming from Atlas as he walked past her.

Altair went through the doorway first, Atlas following after him, the door was on the other side of the foyer. Glass crunched under their boots as they started spreading out and looking around. The mirrors were shattered, some of the windows broken through in little holes, and some vases were shattered and wilted, dried flowers were safe in others. The stairs creaked underneath Atlas’s feet as she slowly ascended them, she jumped when she heard something behind her and looked, but it was only Altair. If looks could kill.

On the landing, Atlas stopped, a painting on the right wall catching her attention, it was huge and must’ve been months of work. It was worn but only touched by time. There were several figures that Atlas recognized and when Altair stopped beside her, she looked at him. “Those are the Gods,” she whispered but it was loud and echoey here. It caught the attention of everyone, and they came up the stairs in a rush to see.

“But who are they?” Zale inquired, pointing to the six unrecognizable figures.

“That’s the Fox,” Eden answered, pointing at a young boy with a mischievous grin and a shock of orange hair.

“How…?” Idris asked, squinting at the boy.

“I can tell that’s Grim,” Atlas pointed at the tall, brooding man, his piercing blue eyes the most noticeable about his appearance. “I think we recognize them because we’re their champions.”

“Then who is that tall pale woman? She looks so happy,” Bastien points at the woman standing near the middle, next to another person nobody knew.

A simmer of rage bubbled in Atlas’s chest. “The Blood Snake but… she’s different.”

“Not quite the Goddess of Blood and Corruption, yet,” Altair whispered, and they all stared at her for a few more moments. Then their attention shifted to the last three.

“The Father,” Atlas whispered, pointing at the man in the middle and then there was the little, blonde girl and the black-haired person with striking gray eyes. The strange one who visited the Father and the little girl was a mystery.

“The Father?” Idris questioned. “What have you been sniffing?”

“The air. It’s something Grim mentioned when I asked him about The Shaken Sands. The Father and them,” Atlas pointed at the being, they looked human but even through the painting there was something off about them. “They visited the Father but Grim didn’t mention a name.”

“The little girl is clinging onto their pant leg,” Vale pointed out, “A parent or an older sibling, perhaps?”

“No point in guessing, we’ll never know from a painting,” Idris shrugged, descending the stairs quickly and disappearing down a right turn. Bastien quickly followed him and Vale and Cyra followed Bastien. Atlas hesitantly gave the painting one last look before stepping up the rest of the stairs.

Altair, Eden, Esmer, and Zale followed with her, spreading into groups as they went to opposite sides of the house. The first room Zale, Atlas, and Altair stopped at was a completely trashed guest bedroom, scorch marks on the floor and bed frame and there were bits and pieces left of the blankets and sheets. The dresser was broken, and the dresses were tumbling out. A few other personal bobbles lay broken on the floor. On the door it read “Misae, the White Sun”.

“This is less of a refuge and more of a hidden relic,” Zale whispered as he looked the room up and down from the doorway.

“Or a haunted house. I’m just waiting for the laughs of small children and “come play with us,” Atlas shook her head and shivered, doing her best child impression as she continued down the hall. Altair shook his head at the insinuation.

The next room door was closed, the name “Lily” written on it and at child height there were faded drawings of flowers and rainbows and a little girl with yellow hair holding the hand of a strange being. Atlas took a deep breath before pushing it open and it squeaked as it did, revealing an old child’s room, untouched like the rest of the house. Atlas entered, her hand moving across the door and over her name as she did. There were cobwebs and signs of nothing used and decay.

“At least whoever ruined this place left the child’s room alone,” Zale sighed, and Atlas picked up one of the stuffed animals from the bed. It was a black dog, on its collar was the name “Dorin”.

“Atlas,” Altair called softly, and she looked at him, holding the dog up to him with a smile.

“It’s the Grim Wolf,” she chuckled, the sound light and sad. “Funny… when he spoke it sounded like he didn’t know them that well.”

“Gods are cryptic, Atlas,” Altair said like that explained everything. “Come.” He called again for her. She placed the dog stuffie on the bed neatly just as it was and turned, glimpsing a drawing on the ground and she scrunched her brow. She bent down and picked it up, it felt frail and delicate, and she softly brushed away the dust. In crayon was the drawing of a blonde girl dressed in red with a black-haired man with eyes of red. There were more, all similar to her companions, some drawn with two or three and the last on the ground was all of them, a blood moon in the sky. “Atlas?” Altair came back into the room, and she stood, handing them to him.

“Look at these,” she told him, out of breath and her heart racing. “There’s Icarus.” She pointed to a gray dragon drawn in one of them. “There’s you.” She pointed at another. “It’s all of us. Drawn in happier settings, admittedly, but we’re here.”

Altair studied them a moment more. “This place is odd. It has a strange feeling to it; it crawls through me.” He paused. “It’s more than we shouldn’t be here, it is more like here shouldn’t exist.”

“The drawings, Altair,” Atlas shook her head. “I want to hear your thoughts on the dragons, not cryptic lines that make my skin crawl.”

He looked at her with indignant red eyes and she grinned. “The girl was a seer, powerful.” He flipped through the drawings. “A blood moon is a horrible omen.”

Atlas licked her lips. “I didn’t have high hopes in the first place. Do you think there are more drawings?”

“The girl was smart. I think she kept similar prophecies together,” he pointed to the floor where drawings had fallen, each depicting different things. “She had a teacher.”

Atlas picked up the pages. “Maybe they’ll give us more hints into what happened here,” she muttered and carefully put them in her satchel. “Later. Prophecies are hard to decode. Runo tried showing me some, even Igraine, but it didn’t make a lick of sense to me.”

Altair laughed as they left the room, shutting the door behind them. “We should show them to Idris. Lady Raven is his patron after all, he might not realize it or believe it, but he’ll have an incredible mind for this.”

“One might think you’re complimenting him,” Atlas teased as they walked to the next room where Zale waited.

“I give credit where credit is due,” Altair said, not even cracking a smile at her teasing.

“There you guys are,” Zale sighed in relief as they walked in. He held up some letters. “I think I found the mysterious owner of this house. Nyx.”