The beginning of the end

by Luke Thomas

Dear Diary,

The night that began in laughter ended in blood and fire.

We were on the Green, surrounded by the music of fiddles and laughter when the first screams broke the rhythm. Two hulking undead wargs emerged from the treeline, their flsh slick with rot and frost. The flames of the bonfire reflected their eyes gold and blue.

Dadroz vanished into shadow before the first howl had even finished echoing, reappearing atop a wagon to loose a volley of arrows. Gael’s vines erupted from the ground, tangling the beasts’ limbs,but they tore through them with monstrous strength. Then came Alistan, shield first, his sword singing through the night. Liliana followed close, radiant even in the chaos, her oath hammering like thunder against the dead.

The wargs’ cries were not mere sound, they clawed at the soul. I felt the weight of death pressing behind my eyes, but I forced my hands to move. A stone elemental burst forth at my command, a great earthen sentinel that slammed its fists into rotting flesh. The ground itself shuddered with each strike, and for a moment, the line held. Hayley added to the defenses by summoning the wrath of the wilds, and the branches and stones themselves lashed out, battering the wargs until their bones splintered. I almost thought the fight was ours.

Then the forest itself vomited forth new horrors.

From the misted edge of the Green came a swarm of frog-folk—dozens of them—croaking in glee as they hurled orbs of acid that exploded in our face. The stench was unbearable, but the bite of the acid was worse. And among them, almost absurdly, stood Ileas. Alistan and Liliana’s old satyr butler, absent six years and suddenly back, looking not a day older, his flute still in hand.

He played a hypnotic tune that shimmered through the chaos, dazzling a few of the larger frog-creatures, but most shook it off, their hunger too fierce. They lunged with webbed claws and snapping jaws. We fell into formation—our old rhythm, automatic. I tried to coordinate the spells, to buy Alistan space.

But the tide kept coming. The smaller frogs used a hit and run tactic, casting their spells, exhausting their arcane energy before running back into the woods.

Then, from the trees, a fomorian stepped forth—a giant so twisted it made the air shiver. It swung a club the size of a tree trunk, catching my sister full in the chest and throwing her aside like a rag doll. I felt the breath tear from my lungs.

I hurled a fireball at its feet, the explosion lighting up the night—but it wasn’t enough. The thing plowed through us, crushing my elemental to gravel, smashing Gael into the dirt. I barely stayed standing, robes hissing from acid burns, hands shaking as I reached into the creature’s flesh and stole its life—dragging that burning force into Gael’s broken body to pull him back from death’s edge.

Under the coordinated barrage from all of us, the fomorian stumbled, howled, and finally fell. The field went quiet, save for the ragged sound of breathing.

That’s when I felt it—a chill, a wrongness. I didn’t know why, not until later, when Gael told us what had happened in that moment: Vivienne betrayed us. She had tried to steal the mask from Liliana, the cursed relic that had caused so much grief already.

The victory felt hollow.

When the fighting ceased, Ileas approached Alistan and Liliana with a letter sealed in red wax. Alistan read it silently, his jaw tightening. He only muttered something about “his mother,” and Ileas, ever the polite servant, knelt as if nothing had changed in six years.

Lumiria watched the scene unfold and smiled that soft, knowing smile of hers. She praised Ileas for his manners and for “knowing how to treat nobility properly.” When he congratulated us on our engagement—news to me, but something Lumiria had told him—I hadn’t corrected them. I don’t know what to make of Lumiria lately. At first, she felt like the sweet kind captive princess I saved from an evil tyrant, just like in all great stories. But it has become clear that she is far more powerful, and maybe even far older than she lets on. I should feel blessed to have captured her attention, maybe even her love. And while I do care for her deeply, I can’t feel like something might be off. That she treats me more like a curiosity than an equal, although I suppose compared to her I am not. But perhaps, if I can realign the ancient defenses of the city and capture the elemental hearts, I can prove myself worthy of her.

We spent the next hours among the dead. The villagers of Wolf’s Rest buried the frog-folk in hastily dug trenches. The air reeked of smoke and blood. We found no sigils or marks, but the magic stank of hagcraft. Even bound by their own rules, they had found a way to strike at us indirectly. Hayley sent a sending to Vivienne, her words cold and clipped.

By the time the fires were doused, it was past two in the morning. Yet the people of Wolf’s Rest refused to let the night end in fear. The bonfire was rebuilt, the music began again. Liliana, Alistan, and Ileas played together, a melancholy tune that turned slowly into something brighter. I almost believed things would be all right.

Then came the distant thunder from Keralon.

We left the Green and made for the silver gates. The torches along the wall were dark, the gates themselves shut. I called out to the guards, but the voice that answered made my blood run cold—Gar, a knight of the Briar Ring. He claimed the gates were closed under orders from the city. Orders. Of course. They were making their move.

We turned back toward Wolf’s Rest, ready to scale the wall if needed. That’s when the alarm bell rang, from our own keep.

We ran. The festival still burned bright behind us, villagers armed with farm tools watching the horizon in confusion. When we reached our home, we saw it: our keep under siege.

Eladrin—fey warriors—stood in the rain of their own conjured fire, hurling fireballs at our walls.

And in that moment, with the smell of ozone and burning stone in the air, I knew:
Haggayn’s mask had fallen.
The war for Keralon had truly begun.

— Luke

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