Fangs & Fools

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The words barely visible, the slickened surface weakly grasping the dying sun's rays, as dusk proceeded to swallow the last enfeebled signs of the day. The script unmistakable, despite the unorthodox medium, used to birth it.

Three figures stood in front of the stonework wall pondering the strange message, as it silently mocked them. A fourth figure crumpled on the ground below the puzzling text, resting peacefully. Chill air giving form to the breath from three of the four present.

Three clad in mantels of slate grey, embroidered with copper threads in intricate whirling patterns converging around a metal insignia, pinning the mantles closed. Each bearing the mark of their office. They stood in silence examining the scene before.

The tallest pulled up their hood and made a series of hand gestures in the air beside them in no particular direction.

A lithe figure emerged from the nearby alcove, saluted the cowled figure, and wordlessly backed away from the scene. Several other similarly garbed figures joined the first before dispersing into the surrounding area, leaving the four figures alone.

“What do you make of it?”, said the first of the figures, removing their hood to take a better look at the scene before them.

The low reddish glare of the primary sun ebbed away from the stone structures and twisted ironwork comprising the passageway. The cobblestone roadworks split and pitted, pools of dark-colored liquid, glistening as tiny vermillion jewels. The stonework walls scarred and cracked darkening to the moistened shade before the birth of frost. The air was crisp and heavy. It smelled pregnant with an unmistakable tinge of iron, char, and the faintest lick of sulfur.

“You might need to be more specific. In case you didn’t notice there's quite a bit of…mess to this,” the second figure replied, gesturing broadly to the scripted wall and crumpled figure, laying in a fetal position on its side.

“I hadn’t noticed,” said the previously cowled figure sarcastically.

“Sarcasm isn’t helpful Terid, can we cut the pretentious act short tonight. It's late and there's something off about the air tonight.”

“Fair enough Karsheth, just trying to ease the tension,” replied Terid.

“I know how you get in these situations,” Karsheth said, making the sign of apology with her left hand.

“Initial thoughts on what happened overall would be a good start,” Terid replied nodding in acceptance.

“I would have thought it a robbery gone too far, were it not for the message on the wall.”

“And….” prodded Terid.

“....the sheer amount of collateral damage here. We can have that answered soon enough though. The message is more of a mystery.”

“Agreed, after this was reported I thought it prudent to bring along one of their order,” Terid whispered gesturing subtly towards the third cloaked figure.

“Ugh they unsettle me, but I get it. I’ll try and play nice,” said Karsheth painting on an insincere smile.

“I know what you mean, but as far as they go, he’s one of the more sociable I've ever met. Give him a chance. You might even grow to like him.”

A shrill wind whipped down the alley rustling the figure's mantles, several nearby signposts creaking eerily protesting the elemental forces' decision to invade the area.

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley,” muttered the figure closest to the writing, bending down to squat over the crumpled figure. Placing a gaunt hand on the shoulder of the prone figure, before turning it slightly, then returning it to its former position. After a moment the squatting figure rose, turned and approached the other two. Its insignia catching a fleeting glint of the sun. Reflecting off the shape of a skull surrounded by musical notes and notations. Walking directly through the offal and detritus of the recent incident.

“I’ve some unfortunate news. Our author friend over there isn’t going to be very talkative…”

“Yeah, being dead tends to do have that effect on people.” Terid chuckled, flashing a genuinely friendly smile and making the gesture of levity.

“Ahh such gallows humor, you’d have made a fine speaker Terid,” said the gaunt figure, smirking.

“Alas, my talents are better spent finding lost puppies and hiding the indiscretions of drunk nobles. Such is my burden, Cias.”

“And I thought my duties were dismal,” laughed Cias, his hollow eyes a poor match for the mirth pouring from his mouth.

“On the subject of dismal, let's get to why you’re here corpsetalker,” interjected Karsheth. Go do your thing, and then we will have our answers and sort this mess out somewhere safe and warm.”

“First of all, that is a very derogatory term and a gross oversimplification of my orders duties. We are not ‘corpsetalkers’ or some ghoulish order of necromancers. We are mediums, we can read the electrical impulses of the recently deceased by...”

“Yeah, yeah I’ve heard it before. Don’t care, it’s cold and there might be a group of murders or some horrendous beast lurking just out of sight, so if we could expedite this whole process it would be better for everyone. As much as I know you love the atmosphere of a grisly murder not everyone does and I don’t wish to become a permanent fixture of this scene.”

“Now see here! I do not love this, it is an abhorrent tragedy, just because I’m not blubbering or stammering around in shock like some preening socialite doesn’t mean I take any pleasure from this sort of thing.”

“Could have fooled me, from how casually you handled that fellow and the borderline cheery look plastered on your face despite the charnel house of a scene we are surrounded by. You are in fact standing in a pile of effluvium that was recently a person as casually as if it were a puddle after a rainstorm.”

“The nerve! I have never been so. Ohh…” Cias's words trailing to silence as he notices she wasn’t speaking metaphorically. He was actually standing in a puddle of blood and what could reasonably be described as gibletesque chunks of a once-living being, without even registering it. All anger draining away instantaneously, composing himself, bowing slightly and making the gestures of apology with his left hand.

“I see your point, but I assure you it's not a macabre fascination on my part, sort of a normalization of death given the gallows' nature of the duties I attend. Bodies and fluids are an occupational occurrence, one just gets used to them after time. ”

Terid stepped forward between the two both flashing each the symbol of rebuke.

“Fascinating. Now that we are all friends again, Cias what were you saying about the erstwhile author? Is there a problem? Can you not perform the speaker arts on them?”

“Yes, about that. When I mentioned they wouldn’t be very talkative I will admit I was being somewhat facetious but there is a problem.”

“Has the time window passed?”

“No, there's still time judging from the state of the body, It's still fresh and pliable.”

Karsheth’s face paled visibly.“Could you please refrain from describing the recently deceased as fresh and pliable. That is exactly the type of talk that gets your order viewed as necromancers. That person was recently a living breathing being. They may have family still and deserve some modicum of respect.”

“Once again I intended no offense, our orders have fundamentally different views on life. I’ll try and be more mindful. Let me rephrase. Ugh, umm the recently deceased is still connected to this world enough for a tangible link for approximately another hour or two based on their, umm current condition.”

“Then what is the issue?” asked Terid, unable to mask an irritated tone.

“Though crass in description of my trade, the term she used is more apt than I would like to admit. Therein lies the source of the shall we say challenge,” Cias said, gesturing towards the crumpled corpse. “Did either of you happen to inspect the author's features?”

“Cias, I enjoy drama and theatrics as much as the next person and appreciate the effort at tact on Karsheth’s account. We did not move the body to thoroughly inspect it prior to your arrival. I was preoccupied with organizing the lockdown of the area without spooking the locals. For the sake of expediency please just say what you need to say. ”

“Swear to me oaths on your orders that what I tell you next will not be shared to others, as it is a sensitive piece of knowledge, and one of the reasons communing with the dead is done away from prying eyes, beyond the unsettling nature of witnessing such an act that is. Trade secrets and all that.”

Terid and Karsheth exchanged momentary expressions and then nodded, each making a series of complicated hand gestures, culminating by pricking a finger and wiping a single drop of blood onto the insignia pins of their mantles.

“We swear upon all we hold true to keep secret and sacred the knowledge imparted to us in good faith by Cias of the order of Swansong.”

“Thank you for understanding. I can perform the ritual and it will work, of that, I have no doubt. I can bring them back to talk, they are not too far gone for that. The knowledge about the timeframe that is known by most is false and spread intentionally. It makes criminals and murderers complacent if they believe they are safe from having their crimes pulled from the victims after a short time. It makes them sloppy and predictable. In truth we can pull them back to the fold far longer after death than anybody would reasonably believe, although the task becomes more arduous the longer it's been. When I mentioned they would not be talkative, I was in fact referring to the mechanics needed for speech. Corpsetalker though crude slang is more literal than most would guess. See the dead speak to us, not metaphorically but literally. That body is missing its entire jaw, tongue, and a goodly portion of its throat. From its position, you wouldn’t have been able to see it before without close inspection. If I bring them back, try as they might to explain what killed them they would not be able to speak in any manner we could decipher and the process does not impart enough reanimation to allow for them to write or move more than their mouths and head. We cannot speak to a corpse that lacks the method of speech. Any other damage or wound is irrelevant, but they are missing the few vital components required in this case. If we can find the missing bits, cobble them together into something workable, and reattach them I could perform the ritual but as is, it would be pointless. I have some twine, and staples and could probably cobble together some of these other chunks into something workable if we can find the jaw,” Cias said, starting to rummage around a pack on the inside pocket of the mantle, producing a spool of twine.

Karsheth stared speechless, even in the dim fading light the color of her face seemed to drop a couple of hues. A momentary wash of disgust ran across Terid’s features before reflexive professionalism removed the expression, and replaced it with a look of incredulity.

“Glossing over the fact of how casually you suggested we find the tattered remains of this man's vocal system, jam it together like mincemeat pie, and then force that unfortunate soul to relive the last surely traumatic moments of their life for the purpose of the investigation, the general conclusion I have from all that is that this is a dead-end, no pun intended, as far as determining what killed them. That is unless we manage to find this poor bastard's missing bits. In the growing darkness before some opportunistic crow or rat makes off with it.”

‘That is correct. The usual methods won’t work. This will require some alternative tactics, to determine the cause of death. No shortcuts are to be found here unless we find that jaw.

Being the only witness we know of, they could have answered many questions, but now all we can do is speculate. Now about that jaw, it was probably ripped...”

“Let’s forget about the jaw as an option, assume it's lost, and focus on the rest of this debacle,” Terid said, quickly cutting off whatever surely macabre train of thought Cias was prepped to unleash.

“To be candid, I’m more concerned about the message than how they expired, as gruesome as it was. There are troubling implications to consider. Karsheth can we get some light on the area, the thickening darkness is inconvenient.”

Karsheth, nodding produced a fist-sized glass sphere from her pocket. Bringing it to her mouth and humming an indiscernible phrase, breathing heavily on the object. The glass bauble twitching and jiggling forming into the shape of several beakless birds, taking flight and circling the area. Karsheth snapped her fingers and the birds illuminated casting the warm glow of sunlight a few feet around themselves. With a whistle three of the glass birds detached from the circling flock and perched upon each of the investigators. Focusing the light into a beam, directed by the gaze of their host.

“Impressive Karsheth. As always. Much appreciated, now take a minute to examine things now that we can see properly, then I want your thoughts,” stated Terid, with the manner of a person accustomed to delegating.

Karsheth, delightedly proceeding to assess the full scale of the newly illuminated scene.

Cias standing slack-jawed in poorly masked fascination with the tiny glass creatures bringing the day to the night, snapping out of it after a mocking chuckle from Karsheth.

The warm tones of the light at odds with the cruel nature of what it stole from the grip of the darkness. Cobblestones painted with vivid coagulated crimson, and a liberal scattering of pinkish mud splattered the area, creating a macabre fresco, depicting a tale of violence and desperation recently enacted. Blood streaks and footprints of various shapes and sizes matting the area, in chaotic overlapping patterns. The stone walls gouged and cracked around the message-marked wall. Chunks of flesh and a severed hand surrounded the prone abused form of the victim.

After a couple of minutes of prodding and scanning the various elements of the grim diorama they reassembled to discuss their findings and theories.

“Thoughts?” asked Terid, gesturing toward Karsheth.

“I don’t think this was a random attack or a mugging gone wrong. Even if it started off that way, it didn’t end the way any of them expected.”

“Agreed, especially on ‘them’”, replied Terid. “There were at least six people here with violent intent, I can still taste the latent bloodlust in the air, even over the iron tang of all this. There is something else though, something I can’t place, it dances on my tongue and beguiles definition. It's familiar yet utterly exotic all at once.”

“I lack the senses you’re blessed with, so I can’t provide any guidance there, but these I am familiar with,” she stated, gesturing towards the wounds on the crumpled body, “’Multiple shallow stabs to the torso, guessing a stiletto, dagger, or other short blades. This appears to have been a descending slash to the shoulder. Wedged, blade shape and heavy from the depth of the cut. I would wager an oversized hatchet or military ax of some form. These wounds would have been fatal unless they received treatment almost immediately. I doubt even I could have done much to help if we arrived in time.”

“The blade wasn’t serrated,” added Cias. “The exit wound and edging are clean”.

“Well spotted Cias,” Karsheth noted as she dropped to a knee feeling the edge of the wound with her fingers.

“Wait so now, you’re fine with blood and gore?” Cias puzzled.

“Ohh I’m not disturbed by such things, I’ve tended to a plethora of injuries before. What disturbs me is the disdain and disrespect for the life we have all been given. I’m sorry if I was short with you earlier, as you said our orders have a fundamental difference in views of life and death. Scenes like this are overwhelming. The savagery of this, it’s grotesque, and the sheer amount of wounds is vulgar. I forget myself sometimes in the face of such malice, forgive me.” Giving Cias the gesture of forgiveness, which he returned earnestly. “I can relate to that feeling, overwhelmed.”

“Focus,” snapped Terid, mouth edge twitching into a slight snarl. “Multiple attackers, armed with knives and hatchets, possibly military make. Easy to acquire in the right circles. This doesn’t feel right for a shakedown though. The timing is off. This area is secluded, but still patrolled and citizens use this road as a shortcut commonly enough. If they were locals they would have been smart enough to wait until after dark for their predations. An attack like this during dusk doesn’t make sense. Especially to have no witnesses.”

“Are you thinking this was an ambush? Targeted, perhaps to send a message to someone, they wanted the body found. Crime syndicate, or politically motivated?,” inquired Karsheth.

“I had feared that might be the case. They definitely left a message, multiple at that. The general message of that could have been you, heard loud and clear by anybody regardless of affiliation or the script they left. If the text is a coded message it would add credence to that theory. It’s not in any type of cant I’m familiar with. If we could identify this deceased fellow, we might be able to make some connections. Figure out why him, and who the message on the wall is for.”

“Maybe the message is a warning to rival organizations, attempting to establish operations. If the valley is a reference to the city, Dragon could be a newcomer. Have you heard of any references to a ‘Dragon’ in the lower circles recently?”

“No, I have had informants keeping me appraised of any new arrivals to the city, nobody by that moniker has sprouted up that I’m aware of. I’ll keep our ears to the ground. Spread the name through the shadows and see if anything floats up from the depths,” answered Terid.

“This was definitely a warning, the text is deliberate without a doubt. Care went into its writing, the text is almost calligraphy, artful. It stands in stark contrast to the rest of this chaotic mess,” Karsheth stated, with an aura of certainty.

“Syndicate involvement would make the most sense, but this still doesn’t add up. If this was the work of syndicate professionals, I would expect this to be a clean kill, especially if it was an ambush. From the tracks, and directional wounds It's safe to say our poor friend there was substantially outnumbered, but this still descended into a mad melee,” Terid mused, casually stroking his chin as Cias chimed in.

“The missing mouth and throat trouble me. If it was done intentionally that would speak to possible knowledge of order secrets. It’s not unheard of mind you, a competent organization may have deep lines and connections, and not even the best-kept secrets are infallible. That lends some credence to the syndicate theory, but I’m not sure it wasn’t simply the result of the scuffle.”

“I’m not convinced it was intentional either, these wounds on the throat aren’t consistent with the others,” Kershath said, using a nearby stick to adjust the jagged flapping edges of the corpse's remaining neck. “They are messy and ragged, the edges seem to be charred, and there are black smudges. Some of these tears don’t look consistent with blades or tools”.

“Maybe they had their face bashed in by a lit torch or one of the glow lamps exploded. That would explain the charring,” offered Cias.

“Solid idea on the torch, but I have to disagree. The force it would take to strike and remove the entirety of their jaw and throat would be inhuman. There would likely be splinters or some material from the torch in the wound with a hit that hard as well,” replied Terid.

“There are multiple smudges on the walls, they might be burn marks.” As she spoke the light bird on her shoulder flew to the wall illuminating a blackened splotch, in a near-perfect circle, aside from an oddly shaped section in the lower area.

“This gets stranger by the minute. Something about this doesn’t feel right,” Karsheth said.

“I’d have to agree, something feels off about this entire situation. Give me a moment, and stand back, I’m going to attempt a clearer picture.”

Terid, walked beside the marked wall, arms spreading out, inhaling a gratuitous breath of the frigid air. Tongue lashing out of his mouth several times in hasty succession, eyes rolling back pupils oscillating rapidly. Suddenly stopping, expelling a harsh throaty cough, mouth contorting in a sour grin.

“Acrid, bitter, intensely acrid. This is the taste of fear, unmistakable but there is so much. More than what I would think possible for one person to produce.”

“Well there were multiple people, we’ve established that. The footprints and blood pools attest to that fact. Only one body though, but were several people, including our author friend there who had an exceptionally shitty night,” replied Cias dryly.

“That’s not my point, the point is the attackers were terrified. War veterans, mercenaries, assassins, or whoever would be sent by the syndicate on a task of this nature would be well blooded. They wouldn’t wreak of fear at the prospect of taking life or spilling blood. I’d expect malice or even excitement, from their ilk. Whatever occurred here was either horrific enough to shake the resolve of hardened murderers or was completely unexpected and shocked them thoroughly.” Torrid retorted gently.

“Or they weren’t professionals after all, and this was something else entirely,” quipped Karsheth.

“Hate to admit it, but that could just as easily be true as our syndicate theory,” said Terid, sighing heavily.

“So basically after all this, we are back to square one, with more questions than we began with.

All we can definitively conclude is that something violent happened to this poor bastard. It was done with intent and scared the shit out of most of those involved. The victim has parts unaccounted for, either by design or coincidence, and a stylized message left without any discernable meaning or context. We are no closer than we started to unravelling this! Maybe we need to focus elsewhere.”

“The blood and footprints are the obvious next ask, any survivors must have left a trail of some sort. One of them would have definitely been bleeding. Missing a hand and all, that tends to sanguinate a touch,” said Cias.

“The blood trails cease abruptly a few meters from here. That was one of the first signs I checked. Earlier when I signaled the troopers to secure the perimeter a couple are tasked with searching for any other trails. If there are any we will know soon enough. As for the hand over there,” Terid said, tilting his head in the direction of a severed hand lying beside the crumpled body. “Are you saying that isn’t from the victim?”

“Nope, the victim has all his digits and appendages,” Cias replied, rolling the body over completely from its side using his foot, allowing its pinned arm to be seen. A completely normal hand, at the apex of the appendage. “You might not have seen that before, since you didn’t have a chance to inspect the body.”

“Well, at least that's something now. We are looking for a one-handed person. Moving on, these marks on the stone are puzzling as well, maybe they were part of what separated the hand from its former owner. Whatever could cut into stone like this could easily sever a hand. The slashes are peculiar, three of them and evenly spaced more or less, almost looks like a claw?” Terid’s brow crinkled in disbelief.

“This was maybe a feral animal attack? That could explain some of the savagery and markings,” remarked Karsheth.

“Beasts don’t leave articulate calligraphed messages after a kill,” replied Terid. “But it is possible the assailants had trained creatures with them.”

“What sort of monster can claw through solid stone with such ease?” Cias muttered clearly distressed by the prospect.

“A large one from the size of these gashes,” said Karsheth. “Well, we can add animals to the list of suspects now. Still as lost as we ever were on this. Could be people, or beasts. Thugs or assassins, everything is all speculative and contradicts, aside from somebody out there is missing a hand. Ugh, so frustrating and we’d better come up with something soon. My little birds only have so much sunlight to use, and it will be much harder to search for details in the gloom.”

“Let’s take a minute to think then. Make the most of the light we have left,” Terid said. The three stood pondering for a minute.

“My head hurts, I’m not used to having to think this much its usually just question the dead, find out what happened, head home, maybe grab a pastry or drink on the way, and enjoy a nice book to forget about the day,” bemoaned Cias.

“Relaxing book eh, that reminds me. Cias, before you referred to the victim as author a couple of times. I’d put it down to gallows humor and unusual speech but it occurs to me, did you mean something by that?” Karsheth queried.

“Ohh umm it’s a bit of both you see, can’t help the way I speak. Some humor, though grim but I meant that as an observation as well. I’d assumed you had both noticed before so I didn’t bring it up as a point,” Cias confessed, giving a shrug and a small gesture of apology.

“Did you find writing utensils on his body, or what would make you call him author? They’re not dressed as a scribe or do you suspect they left the message and that is what you are referring to?” asked Terid, mildly.

“Ohh well from what I can tell they wrote the message, or at least someone wrote it using them as an ink well. The message is written in their blood,” stated Cias with the casual disregard of small talk involving the weather.

“What the hell Cias!? Why didn’t you mention that earlier?” snapped Karsheth.

“I thought that was obvious from the body's position, blood patterns, ect. We’ve all been to this sort of scene before. I figured it was second nature to notice these things. I'm sorry,” said Cias, a look of genuine puzzlement across the gaunt landscape of his face.

Fist clenching, teeth-gnashing slowly, tectonic plates imprisoned within a mouth. Bruxism in full effect as Terid let the surge of frustration and anger wash away from him by no small expenditure of willpower. Calming before he spoke.

“Any other morbid potential oversights you’d care to share with the rest of us..less learned folk?” Terid said through a forced smile that was all teeth.

“Well one, but… this one is a little out there, and might only complicate things,” he said, flinching ever so slightly under the gaze of the others.”

“Enlighten us,” they said in a cold unison, eyes boring into Cias.

“See their fingertips, hand, and the gash in their shoulder. The blood on the hands goes to about the same depth as the shoulder gash. I think they used the gash as an inkwell for the message. The fingertips have less blood on them than the surrounding hand from being wiped onto the wall repeatedly and the tips are rough, likely from the stone texture. Blood in this cold coagulates differently, I believe this message was written while he was still alive most likely by himself and not by others post-mortem. The consistency of the blood on the wall speaks to warmth when applied,” said Cias, in an inappropriately scholarly tone.

“That is actually incredibly insightful, and I hope to never know how you came upon such knowledge but that gives us a major clue,” said Karsheth, her eyes hiding a flurry of concerning thoughts.

“Thanks, Cias, that is actually immensely important. But as you said it does complicate things. As you are suggesting that they were mortally wounded when they wrote the message, but took the time and care to make it completely legible while bleeding profusely from multiple wounds or during an ongoing battle.”

“That I have no explanation for, writing in one’s own blood when on the precipice of death would not have been a quick or easy task, and panic does not allow for precise work.”

“What if he wrote the message because he could not call out for aid if they had already lost their jaw and they meant it as a warning to other compatriots knowing he was already dead. Maybe it wasn’t a threat after all, and the stylization is part of the signal,” pondered Karsheth to the others.

“None of this makes sense as a whole. We need more information, too many unknowns. Damn our luck, the one time in all my service the body is missing its goddamn mouth happens to be one of the most calamitous scenes I’ve ever been called to. No real explanation. Nothing accounts for all these different elements,” lamented Terid.

“Well, there is one other possible explanation,” Karsheth softly said, fixing Terid with an awkward grin.

“You’re going to make me say it aren’t you.”

“Don’t even, it’s not worth spending the breath on,” Terid stated flatly.

“We should consider every possibility though, and the other theories aren’t exactly tailored fit perfect either,” protested Karsheth.

“Ugh, I know you aren’t about to say what I think you are going to say are you.”

“Due diligence! We have to keep an open mind, we've both seen strange things over the years.”

“Fuck me, has it really come to this. We are actually considering this is a plausible explanation?” Terid says pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief.

“I am clearly missing something obvious here,” Cias spoke timidly.

“It would fit though, as odd as it sounds. It could explain some of the stranger parts. What if the message isn’t coded, and its intent was a more literal warning,” offered Karsheth.

“I’m not writing ‘Dragon attack’ in the goddamn report to the head inquisitor! We’d be laughed out of the institute, and mocked until the day we die if we are lucky. More likely we’d be demoted chastised and then mocked until the day we die,” barked Terid.

“Dragons aren’t real, that’s asinine,” Said Cias with a slight inflection of uncertainty hidden in his voice.

“Thank you Cias! He gets it. They just aren’t, they are fairy tales. Allegories for children's tales, dragons don’t actually exist. Nobody has ever seen one, and if they lived long ago they are all long since dead. Some dust delver would have dug up their bones by now even if that were the case”.

“You can taste emotional resonance and Cias literally talks to the dead, but somehow you both think the idea of winged fire breathing reptile is too much? Come on! At least consider it. There’s this thing called biodiversity, ever heard of it? There are things in the seas that would make nightmares seem cuddly,” she retorted with admirable zest.

“Okay, you have a point. I don’t know every creature in the world, and the idea of a dragon isn’t something even that far-fetched all things considered. But, and this is where I draw the line. It would make zero sense that a dragon would exist here and now. Specifically here, in this city. From those claw marks, the beast would have to be over twenty feet tall, it would be massive. Somebody would have spotted it, especially if it was flying. The roofs around here aren’t tall enough to obscure it for very long, and word of a flying serpent would spread like wildfire.” countered Terid.

A cold wind blew down the passageway, reminding the group of less heated topics.

Karsheth sighed, “Fair enough, just trying to provide options, didn’t have to get all huffy about it.”

“Slashes in stone, unexplainable scorch marks, and blood trails ending suddenly, as if taken into the air…or eaten whole,” Cias thought out loud. “You know, I’ll be damned to say it but it would actually fit rather nicely. No bodies if something ate them.”

The wind shifted again bringing another reminder of the encroaching night, stirring their mantles. They reflexively clutched them closer.

“See! I know it’s weird but I’m thinking maybe not a dragon but some form of an unknown beast. If somebody saw a creature they didn’t know, they might easily call it something that they had heard about, a dra…”

“Shut up,” Terid said tersely. She was about to protest the rudeness until catching Terids eyes. There was no anger, only concern as he raised his hand gesturing the sequence for silence, and gathering. Karsheth and Cias, were immediately silent and huddled around Terid.

“Lights off, and wait for my signal. We are not alone. I caught something in the wind, I can feel something approaching. Whatever it is made its way past the perimeter guards, and I taste its hunger in the air,” he whispered. Karsheth and Cias bore horrified expressions but compiled.

With a flick of her wrist, the birds went dark and fluttered around Karsheth.

“It’s coming from the north slowly, carefully. When it gets around the corner, I want you to focus all the daylight your little birds can muster directly on the area I point to. We might have a chance to blind it temporarily,” Karsheth nodded in understanding. Karsheth and Cias drew daggers from their belts in anticipation of whatever horror was coming to greet them.

Terid’s eyes taming the night as best they could manage, senses tasting the wind, hand clasping on the hilt of his shortsword. They stood and waited, the wind carrying little more than the distant noises of nightlife. They waited.

Almost imperceptibly it crept onward, the muffled sound of padded feet on cobbled stone. The only betrayal of its presence the sporadic drip of saliva as it went, and the muted clack of romance between bone and tooth. Its form turned the corner, its shifting mass low to the ground as it swaggered forward towards the group, yet oblivious to their presence.

Terid tugged Karsheth’s shoulder, “Now!” he snapped.

In one swift movement, she extended her right hand snapping her finger towards the slinking shadow. The entire flock of glass birds alight, funneling sunlight toward the creature in a cone of radiance.

The creature yelped and reared back, blinded by the burst of the day among the night.

The investigators, all at once sighed in relief, relaxing their stances and sheathing their weapons. A small scruffy dog sat dazed and confused shaking its head, desperately trying to regain its bearings. All three investigators started to laugh uncontrollably, the tension shattered completely.

“Ohh thank the various gods, it’s just a stray dog!” exclaimed Karsheth.

The dog barked in frustration at the chuckling assembly. That is when they noticed what it carried. In its mouth the misshapen but unmistakable shape of a human jawbone.

The laughter ceased.

“Wait Is that what I think it is?!” said Terid with swelling realization.

“I think so!” exclaimed Cias.

A loud pop sounded as the birds expended the last of their light fizzing out, casting the area into the dark of twilight again. A growl, several barks, and the scamper of paws echoed behind it as the dog took off like a comet into the tar-black night.