Eve of the 6th day of Icewhile
This town freaks me out. The folk here are strange. Feels like the life’s been drained out of them. They walk in silence and keep their heads down . . . If they talk, they mumble. They won’t even look each other in the eye.
Lunnon, of Pintat. A sad and sullen town. It’s been years since the tower was toppled . . . and still, not a bard in sight. They’re broken here. In ruins, just like the tower.
The Queen may be dead and her sick, twisted reign may have ended, but her presence still lingers. Not just in their minds, but in their malformed bodies and missing limbs.
Well, the sun’s waning. The streets are empty. It’s time to go for a walk.
Eve of the 7th day of Icewhile
Everyone I spoke to today seemed to know someone, or someone who knows someone who’s been abducted. Never to be seen again.
Her twisted abominations still terrorise the town. Remnants of her foul, unholy army. I remember the fear they wrought. The souls she tarnished . . . No wonder the town can’t move on. The heroes came, but clearly they didn’t clean up.
The officials told me no one knows how or why her chimaeras still roam or why they only come out at night. Where they come from, or where they go.
They told me whenever one had been abolished, another took its place . . .
They told me they just keep the job pasted up on the board.
Eve of the 8th day of Icewhile
Third night and so far, I’ve encountered nothing.
The nights have been still and silent—if you don’t count the groans and cracks from the sewage below. That rotting stench . . . I swear, I could taste it on my tongue.
I saw limp, disembodied hands still hanging off railings. Splintered bones lay between the cobbles and deep red blood stains the streets like she stains their memories. Not even years of rain could wash away the remains of her reign.
They tell me the last incident was seven nights ago. Maybe tonight is my lucky night.
Eve of the 9th day of Icewhile
Today I met another traveller. A witch, but refreshing nonetheless. She was on her own quest, in search of the Grave Wand.
Another necromancer, looking for the wand that took millions of souls. Of course, she’d be looking for the wand that raised entire battalions. The wand responsible for these rotten remains of a town . . .
She told me that the Queen’s corpse was never found in the ruins.
The witch also told me that, like most witches, the Queen was conceived from ritual, but unlike most witches, conceived with demonic blood. She told me that she wasn’t born into royalty and that she stole the name and the life of a Princess. Violette.
Surprisingly, the witch’s story doesn’t surprise me. A real Queen wouldn’t do this to her own, even if they were a witch . . . But a demon?
I told her it’s not been as bad since Violette’s reign ended, but I still spend most my days cleaning up after necromancers. The irresponsible ones, the reckless ones, the mad ones. I told her stories of their tests of power, their corrupted experiments, their loss of control. I told her my Tome is usually all it takes to clean up. I told her there’s not many ways to kill something that’s already dead, but it seems these books really pack a punch.
I hope she heeds my warning.
Eve of the 10th day of Icewhile
I bumped into the witch again this morning. I never thought I’d see the day a witch and an inquisitor get on. I guess in this town, I should take any pleasantries I can get. We ate bread, shared leads, rumours, myths . . .
She said some folks swear the Queen’s still alive—that her corpse was never found. Some reckon her corpse wouldn’t be found because Death took her personally.
I told her others seem convinced another has already claimed the wand. They reckon the wand corrupts, and the abductions won’t stop until it’s destroyed.
The witch said whoever might claim it won’t necessarily have the demonic talent to turn the dead like Violette did.
She even told me she met a group of children who told her people only get abducted if you misbehave.
Is this how myths are born? Suffering, tyranny, death . . . distilled into cautionary tales to get children to behave?
Morn of the 10th day of Icewhile
I saw it! My hands are trembling as I write this.
This one was different. It was still a concoction of limbs. Limbs grafted together. Limbs from corpses of monsters and men. Twisted and contorted.
But it moved too fast. Much faster than the ones I remember. And with purpose. Intention.
I couldn’t abolish it.
This one was different. But, familiar. Something more sinister.
Something more . . . sophisticated.
Eve of the 11th day of Icewhile
They told me a child was abducted last night. I reported what I saw.
I told them I hadn’t faced her abominations in years but this was not a remnant of her army. It was different but . . . familiar.
I asked them straight up—is she really dead? Other necromancers don’t twist and graft like the Queen. They aren’t capable.
They couldn’t answer. They admitted they never found her corpse in the rubble. But no one in all the realms have reported seeing her since the tower was toppled. They said they’d searched the town. They told me there’s only one known way out of this town and no one’s ever reported her leaving.
I know this town smells of rot, but something smells off here.
I searched all over for the witch today, but I couldn’t find her. I wanted to demand a séance—if the Queen is dead, a witch would be able to contact her, right?
The mood in town was even more sullen today. Everyone knew what had happened, but no one was talking about it.
Only the parents are still searching, knowing they’ll never find her.
I understand the demoralisation and the unwillingness to move on from the past. The bones in the street. For this town, the terror never really stopped. For the rest of the realms, the tower falling felt like achievement enough, I suppose.
Well, the sun’s waning. The streets are empty.
It’s time to go for a walk. My Tome, and I.