Chapter 12: The Past and What Once Was

Annoyance spiked like a thorn in Lilith, the Little White Dragon. She thumped Nidhogg’s belly like a drum. “She got away. That’s on you.”

The big fox had sprung from nowhere. When her body swelled, the chain snapped like a brittle twig under snow. Useless, Lilith thought about that chain.

Her temper cooled, a mist settling over stone. “Forget it. I should’ve guessed.” She wasn’t truly angry. Even while sulking, she’d blocked a strike for Nidhogg. Blaming him gave her a step down, a bridge back to calm. “Anyway, you’re a bully and no help to me.”

“Enough out of you.” Before Nidhogg could retort, Lilith pressed her small hand over the Black Dragon’s mouth, eyes sharp as blades. She scooped up a sheet from the ground and held it out. “Let’s check this first. When we beat that fox, coins spilled. Maybe this paper points to who she is.”

Nidhogg doused hope like cold rain. “Don’t get your hopes up. I have guesses about her identity. If I’m right, any papers she carried are basically unreadable now.”

Lilith snorted, a coal flickering. She slipped past her companion and headed to Abaddon, who was tenderly cleaning his giant locust’s carapace like polishing old armor. “Abaddon, help me figure out what’s on this.”

Abaddon lifted his head, pride gleaming like gold leaf. “My literary craft could stun even Lord Satan,” he said, then shook his head after a glance. “Even though Lord Satan treats me like his own child, he never lets me near the scriptorium. I can’t help you check this parchment.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.” The Little White Dragon didn’t sulk. She hugged the paper and sat by the roadside. Behind her, several tendrils fanned like a peacock’s tail, twining into a wide cushion. She plopped down without worrying her snow-white cloak would drink in the dust.

She pinched the parchment’s edge, breath catching like a moth at a lamp. “Let me see… this thing’s got age.” Dark yellow mottling showed years of wind and grit, and the sheet looked ready to crumble to flakes.

Still, it held. Though torn to misery, a few legible scars remained. Stranger still, the ink hadn’t faded—black as old night.

She read softly, voice like rain. “First line is the date. November sixteenth. They entered the Grand Mausoleum then. But the year’s smudged—one of the most important bits. Month alone, what good is that?”

She continued, the words like footprints in dust. “‘After entering the Grand Mausoleum, we pushed deeper. As the first adventurers to step inside, we bear the duty of mapping its ecology and clearing a path for those who follow. Uncle Ku takes this seriously. Every rest, he records our monster encounters, grinning like he’s shed ten years. I think I wear the same face when I write. Putting words down is pure joy.’”

She grimaced, eyes cutting fog. “The middle’s gone. What a pity. I thought I could read the whole thing, but that’s wishful thinking.” A huge chunk was missing, just ink ghosts and exposed inner fiber, raw as bone. The fox’s handwriting wasn’t pretty to begin with; now it was impossible.

She found more lines, dry as thorns yet clear. “‘Time flew. We crossed that wasteland quick. After saying goodbye to endless zombies, skeletons became our new foes. Sorry to these Undead folks, but we can’t take them all away. They’ll have to weather a few more beatings. The rest we leave to later adventurers.’”

She traced the last sentence, wind moving through a ruined town. “‘The Grand Mausoleum’s towns aren’t what we expected. There’s a new kind of Undead here, and I can’t hurt them. Lucky we had Lei. Otherwise we’d all be done for. Immunity to physical attacks—how is that even fair?’”

The parchment ended there. Lilith folded it, stood, and sighed like a cooling kettle. “Looks like the fox’s diary. Was she among the first adventurers who came here?”

Nidhogg’s voice was deep as a cave. “Most likely. She was probably part of the team sent to destroy the Reaper Fragment. Outwardly, the Adventurers’ Guild claims none of the first invitees survived the Grand Mausoleum. Now I see where their missing bodies went.”

He clicked his tongue, like a nail on stone. “They were kept inside and remade as the Reaper Fragment’s minions. I wonder what the Guild will think when they learn that.”

Worry tightened like frost in Lilith’s chest, then smoothed like sun on ice. “They had that much strength and still were controlled. The Reaper Fragment is tough.” She lifted her chin, confidence flaring like a lantern. “But I’m feeling good about our chances.”

“Why?” Nidhogg asked, curiosity curling like smoke.

Lilith stuck out her tongue, playful as a spring breeze. “Secret.”