Chain of Souls

by Luke Thomas

Dear Diary,

We were still in the tomb — that endless descent of riddles, battles, and flame — locked in combat with the forest centaur wardens. Alistan and Liliana were holding the line, surrounded in the dim chamber. Shadows shifted beyond the edges of our light, and I hurled a fireball into the dark, hoping to catch something. I hit only grazed one.

And then the sun struck back.

A burst of divine radiance lanced through the darkness — a sunray, searing, holy, and direct. It hit me full in the chest, blinding heat and white agony. I collapsed, unconscious before I hit the floor.

I came to with the soft touch of Hayley’s healing, her magic coaxing breath back into my lungs. I scrambled upright, gasping in the dark. We were still in danger, and I needed more light — more presence — so I summoned a giant fire elemental, its roaring body illuminating the chamber in waves of crimson.

I directed it toward one of the wardens, then ducked back behind a pillar to hide. But before I could reach cover, another sunbeam lit up the chamber — aimed at my head. I barely got a shield spell up in time. The blast scorched the wall beside me to rubble, but I lived. Barely.

My poor elemental didn’t fare as well. The wardens shredded it like it was kindling.I retaliated with another fireball, but again — only a glancing blow. My magic wasn’t carrying its usual force tonight.

Thankfully, Dadroz and Gael picked off the wardens from afar, loosing precise shots into the chaos. One by one, the beasts fell. When the last one died, we finally exhaled.

We found a scroll of feign death and a wand of magic detection among the debris, along with a jade key nestled among unmarked sarcophagi.

We returned to the King’s tomb door, placing the three keys into their sockets. The door opened to a small chamber lined with statues — fey, human, fiend, undead.

Beyond that was a much larger, circular hall of demonic statues. Alistan and Liliana stepped forward, crossing a second threshold — and then the statues moved.

One charged forward, wreathed in blazing fire, dragging Liliana with it as it tore into the group.

I summoned an earth elemental beside Alistan to help anchor the line, then ducked around a corner again, my wounds from the last fight still raw. The elemental swung heavy fists and cracked one of the lesser constructs before getting the full brunt of the flame-bound ones.

I darted back and forth, lobbing firebolts when I could. Alistan started shoving the constructs into the pit at the room’s center — a clever, brutal solution. One by one, they were crushed or sent into the void.

When the last one fell, we collapsed again — breathless, bleeding, alive.

In the center of the chamber, suspended by dimensional shackles, was a raw, jagged crystal — glowing faintly, pulsing like a held breath. We approached cautiously. The crystal shimmered, and the visage of a king appeared within.

The visage spoke.

He asked who we were. We explained we were Knights of Keralon. He seemed relieved. “So the city still stands,” he said.

We asked about the Final Tournament. He told us that his soul, and the souls of his bloodline, were sealed within the crystal, as part of the bargain he made to free Keralon from the Empire. But he made that bargain three times.

Once with the Fey — Eldrin Sunchaser.
Once with the Devils — Cas Raal.
And once with Death itself.

Now, the three factions compete in eternal tournament, each fielding a Nemesis Knight, seeking to win his soul. The catch? Only one knight can win. Anyone who defeats one takes their place. This has been going on for centuries, and none of the factions seem eager to end it. We asked about my boggle familiar, Pim, who had vanished while investigating the crystal. The king confirmed it — Pim’s soul was now trapped inside. To free him, we would need to remove the dimensional shackles. But doing so would also release hundreds of ghosts across Keralon. So Pim will have to wait.

Gael asked about the Elemental Towers — my obsession, my purpose. The king knew them. He said he had once been to their foundations. The towers were created by mages seeking to push back the power of the Fey — elemental forces are older than the Feywild. They used their magic to anchor runestones at the border of the Lorewood, repelling fey incursion. The Tower of Air, he confirmed, still floats above Keralon, requiring flight to reach — its founder rode a griffon. The Tower of Water is closer — located in the Lorerun River, nestled between the pillars of the old bridge, the one that once connected the north bank to the palace. It is now broken.

We told him of the Fey’s growing influence in Keralon. He offered his help. He said he could possess the current king, reclaim the throne. We… declined. Politely.

He expected as much. We locked the door behind us and each took a key. We’ll guard them well.

Back at the keep, we’ve decided to help Hayley find her shrine. I hope it’s easier than storming crypts and fighting statues.

But with us, I doubt it.

— Luke

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