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The story so far in Chapter 1-8: Darcel encounters mysterious Dawn Bringers who can walk unharmed in sunlight and learns that bonding with dragons is the key to unlocking ancient portals between distant regions of his world. Driven by grief and curiosity, he secretly works with his friend Kerynd to translate forbidden texts, uncovering lost knowledge while tensions rise within Stonehold between religious factions. Ultimately, Darcel risks his life to steal a dragon egg from a dragon’s (shadow-crawler) den.

Nox let Darcel into the hold. “Again, Darc? Ye better stop this nonsense.”

Darcel couldn’t talk, his vision going black from fear and a post adrenaline rush and heat exhaustion. He sat down in the gloriously cool shade of the covered hold, breathing heavily.

Nox pursed his lips and shook his head, handing over his canteen again.
Darcel drained it and his own.
Slowly he started to cool down.

Nox crossed his arms. “Ye have a death wish. I hope yer not looking for those sun shades again.”

Darcel knew he better quell any possible gossip now. “I was on a supply run, Nox. Ye know I do it once every few spans.”

He pulled the umbrathorn thorns and tusks out of his bag to show Nox.

Nox’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “Witherwing tusks? How’d ye manage that?”

Darcel shrugged, putting them back. “Luck. But it made me late on the return.”

Truth.
Of a sort.

Nox whistled. “Well, I guess that’s a decent reason. Goddesses, give me some of yer luck. Those’ll fetch a good price.”

Darcel nodded.

Once his breathing had slowed and his vision quit swimming, he went to the cistern and drank several more canteens of water, then returned Nox’s full.

He clapped Nox on the shoulder and tipped his head left. “The path keep ye.” And strode off.

But he didn’t go to the market to sell anything yet. He had the crawler egg, a dragon egg as the Ancients called it, and he wanted to see if it had survived his mad dash from the angry mother.

He went to his unit.

Locking his door, he carefully opened his sack and unwrapped the egg from its protective casing of hard leather and material. And he breathed a sigh of relief. It was intact.

The shell shimmered with iridescent purple, and the glowing violet lines along the surface seemed to pulse. He had to admit, it was very pretty.

He placed it into a small crate, nestled on a pillow.

Then he pulled Kerynd’s translations from the hidden cubby and reviewed the section on collecting dragon eggs again. The text said the shadow crawler egg had to be kept cold, shielded from sunlight, and left in darkness.

Reading further, he found descriptions of the other two types of dragons on Solnoc. The radiance dragon eggs, gleaming gold in the illustrations, required constant warmth and direct sunlight. The void dragon eggs, shown as black as the abyss, had to be kept on ice.

He turned off the few moon lamps in his unit, which only shed dim light anyway. The light from the ice wall was sufficient for his excellent night vision.

Then he pushed the crate up to the ice wall, which was plenty cool.

Gloamers didn’t mind the cold. It didn’t seem to affect them much. In a land of twilight and night and ice and snow, it made sense that the shadow crawlers were the same.

He sat down on the floor next to the crate and laid his fingers on the egg. The shell was soft and smooth. A vibration came from within that sent a shiver through his hand.

“Well,” he said, “I guess we’ll see what comes out of that shell.”

At the sound of his voice, the creature inside seemed to shift again and another vibration ran up his arm.

Maybe it was stressed. Or anxious. He’d given it quite the jolt with that mad escape run.

Stressed? Anxious?

He ran a hand down his face and laughed bitterly to himself. What was happening to him?

How could he already be caring for a creature he’d never seen, from a species that he both feared and hated?

He barely recognized himself anymore from the man before the arrival of the Dawn Bringers.

After the death of Myra, he’d been a husk, dead inside, and just going through the motions. All he’d cared about was doing his duty for Chief and hold, and perhaps the vengeful killing of as many shadow crawlers as he might ever be able to. He saw now that bitterness and anger had been slowly eating him up inside.

Now he was trying to hatch a crawler, to care for it, and bond with it?

A memory of Solari passed through his mind, with her little golden baby dragon, Aurela. The feeling of that dream, of Aurela speaking into his mind, made goose pimples rise on his arms.

What was he about to become? And what would his choices do to his hold?

There was no way the Chief or Gloamers would accept anyone keeping a pet shadow crawler in the hold.

Would he have to leave Stonehold?

Sadness twisted in his gut.

This was his home, and his people. It was all he knew.

He didn’t know what was in store for him. But now wasn’t the time to answer any of it, so he pushed it from his mind.

He had set out on the path, and it was done. And if he succeeded in hatching the crawler, then he would use the Aether Arch to visit the Radiance Striders’ land, and then the caves of the Void Striders. And he’d bring back more useful information for his people to prosper.

He looked at the egg again, then laid his hand back on it while reading a book.

He didn’t have boundary duty on the eighth day of the span either, so he stayed in his unit, watching over the egg and not leaving. He was afraid to leave it alone.

By the middle of the second cycle, the egg started to change. At first a little, but then unmistakably.

New, fine lines of light bloomed beneath the shell. The purple pearlescence deepened. And the creature inside continued to stir when he touched the shell or spoke to it.

So he decided he must have the right temperature for it.

He combed over the translations about what to feed it. They mostly ate regurgitated meat from the mother’s kills, as well as her milk.

He swallowed.

He definitely didn’t have female crawler milk. He hoped chewed meat would suffice.

Late in the cycle, a knock sounded, and he stood from the egg laden crate with a snap, his head jerking toward the door.

What would he do if the Veil Keeper returned with a warrant to search his premises again?

His heart raced as he threw a blanket over the crate and pushed it behind the table.

With a shaking hand he unlatched the door.

But it was only Kerynd.

He breathed out in relief and let him in.

The librarian bustled in. “Hey, Darc. How are ye? I have more of those…” He paused, one eye watching the door close all the way first, then continued, “translations. These are about how they train their dragons to fly.”

Darcel laughed, the sound thin and frazzled.

Kerynd nodded. “Right? Yeah, I know. How can one fly on one when they die getting anywhere near it?”

Darcel crossed his arms. He should tell Kerynd about the egg. But could he trust him not to lose his mind in fear? Shadow crawlers were the one creature every Gloamer was rightly afraid of.

Kerynd laid out the new sheets on the table as Darcel deliberated what to tell him.

Before he could speak, the librarian said, “And ye won’t believe this, but I tell it true, that annoying Veil Keeper got a warrant to search my unit too.”

Darcel’s mouth hung open. “By the Ash, ye can’t be serious. Umbrist Sidero raked through yer things too?” Then one of his eyes flicked to the translations, while his other eye stayed focused on Kerynd.

His friend understood the question. “No, no. He didn’t find any of this. The book is safe, yeah. Ye see, I kept it all hidden in the library vault.”

“But,” Darcel said, relief washing over him again, “can he get a warrant to search the library vault?”

Kerynd’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. The head of the library, Ashroan, he is close with the Chief, who I don’t think would risk angering Ashroan.”

Darcel ran a hand down his face. “But are ye sure?”

Kerynd hesitated. “Well, I don’t know. Should we move it all here?”

Flipping through the new translations, Darcel groaned. “Maybe. He’s already been here and found nothing. Maybe it’s safer. He’s trouble.”

“Well, that’s the truth plain as night.” But he didn’t sound relieved about it. Kerynd’s hands twitched and he fiddled with his tunic. It was evident he was stressed. And who could blame him.

Those sunsick religious fanatics were concerning. The breach of privacy and personal rights alone was something that prior the Chief never would have approved. But now he did, out of fear of the supposed Second Unraveling.

The religious groups were growing in power.

It wasn’t just Darcel that was changing. The hold was changing. And he didn’t think in all good ways.

It was then that Darcel decided to wait longer before mentioning the egg to his friend.

He didn’t know if it would even hatch, since he had no idea what he was doing, so it might die and all these worries would be for nothing. There was no sense stressing his friend more for no reason.

So he said, “Bring everything here, and I’ll hide it for now. But we may need to move it somewhere in the forest instead, to keep it out of their hands.”

Kerynd looked up from the translations then, gray eyes wide. “Oh, ye didn’t hear?”

Darcel blinked. “Hear what?”

“There’s a shadow crawler that came last twilight and roamed back and forth outside the hold, roaring and screeching, and digging at the doors. It’s very, very angry about something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what has it all fired up. Ye seriously didn’t know? Where have ye been?”

Darcel ran a hand down his face. “Just… ah… resting here.”

The librarian nodded. “Ye know that happened once many seasons ago when someone took an egg for the Chief. But nobody did this time.”

Darcel’s blood went cold. “Maybe it’ll go away?”

His friend shrugged. “Maybe. Everyone is worried, because how can we hunt and gather? We’ll starve in here if it doesn’t leave soon, yeah.”

Darcel thought of his little stolen egg hidden behind the table. The mother dragon was furious.

And it was his fault.

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Author Note:

Image made with Midjourney.

I have written about the world building of this story here.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

Story so far in Chapters 1-7: Darcel witnesses the impossible - woman walking unharmed by sunlight, sparking rumors that divide Stonehold between faith, fear, and denial. Determined to uncover the truth, he ventures into the light and meets the Dawn Bringers, who reveal a wider world connected by ancient portals and powered by bonding with dragons. Now hunted by suspicion, Darcel searches the forest for a dragon egg, finds a dragon den, and enters.

The entrance to the crawler’s den, or dragon as Solari called it, sloped down into a cave system hidden beneath the umbrathorns and forest roots.

Darcel’s eyes were well adapted to dim light. He couldn’t see in complete darkness without any light at all, but there were smatterings of bioluminescent moss and mushrooms growing here and there that lit the way for him.

Each eye swiveled to look before and behind him, searching for threats. Thallic stone arched inward like ribs, and the tunnel flickered with cool shadows. Some bats hung above, silent and watchful, though most were out for their night time hunt.

Darcel crept along, heart hammering. If that shadow-crawler came back while he was in here, he’d have nowhere to run.

The tunnel exited into a larger, underground cavern.

The soft greenish light from the bioluminescent plants cast strange shadows across the stalactites and stalagmites that hung from above amid the hanging roots of trees that pierced into the cavern.

Darcel slipped between them.

Looking around, he saw the bones of birds and mammals, and even of witherwings, a raptor with ivory tusks. He didn’t know how the mother shadow-crawler had caught one, because they were among the fastest birds alive. But the tusk ivory was worth a fortune. He picked several up and put them into his pack.

While searching for the tusks, he spotted another exit, different from the one he’d come in.

Of course.

Any creature with a den made sure there were two ways out. Shadow-crawlers might be violent, but the Gloamers knew them to be intelligent too.

And then he found what he’d come for.

At the back of the cavern lay a soft nest of fur and moss and feathers. Nestled in the center were two dragon eggs. Each one shimmered with an iridescent sheen of dark purple, with threads of violet light running beneath the shell.

His teeth ground together and instinct screamed as a hand flew to his sword, but then stalled.

Any other time, had he the courage to come here, he would not have taken an egg to give the chief in hopes of rewards and status. He would’ve smashed them all to bits in fury and anger.

But instead, he had to hatch one in order to use the Aether Arches.

His mate’s face flashed through his mind.

He replayed Myra’s melodic laugh and shimmering black hair, and the feel of her hand in his.

His fists clenched and unclenched.

He could take one egg and break the other. The fewer shadow-crawlers in the world, the better.

Then he heard a distant snapping of twigs up the tunnel he’d come in by.

His breath caught.

That might be the mother returning.

Time to move.

Darcel seized one egg. It was heavy and colder than ice, and larger than he’d imagined. Then again, look at the mighty monster it would become. He folded it into his pack, nestling it carefully into the padding and hard leather he’d brought to protect it.

Whether she could smell him when she returned didn’t matter. Even if the oil masked his scent, she would see the missing egg and go into a rage.

Darcel darted toward the second exit and peered into its dark depths. It looked like a tunnel similar to the one by which he’d entered.

He ran up it, hoping that if the mother arrived now, she would come through the other passage.

Ahead he saw the sky beyond, no longer full night, but back to twilight. He’d been at this through most of the dark portion of the cycle. Dawn was coming.

He stopped at the exit, head and eyes swiveling, but he didn’t yet see the mother.

What he did see stopped him.

In the ravine, a short distance away, stood three dark furred murkwilers sniffing at the ground. Their silver eyes glowed as they nipped at each other. Their long fangs and claws gleamed.

Damn the day.

Murkwilers were among the most dangerous predators in the woods, that is, after the shadow-crawlers.

He could fight one. But a pack was a death sentence.

He ran a hand down his face, unsure what to do. He didn’t think he could leave the way he’d come without coming face to face with an enraged shadow-crawler.

He hesitated, refreshing the masking oil along his neck.

Maybe he could slip through the thorns unnoticed.

Or he could wait a little time, and hope the murkwilers left.

A deafening roar of fury shook the tunnel behind him.

A swarm of bats burst out in a frantic cloud.

Darcel ducked, covering his head, skin going icy cold.

Time was out!

The murkwilers startled, then bolted into the trees.

They wouldn’t be far, and he’d have to watch for them.

But one danger at a time. A dragon was coming.

He wove through the umbrathorns, careful of the spines, and ran up the side of the ravine, feet slipping on moss.

Another roar shook the ground and the earth trembled beneath him.

He was going to die.

He plunged into the trees, branches clawing at his clothes, trying to hold him back. He leaped over logs and tore through the brush with more noise than he’d ever made before in his life.

He was leaving a trail.

He had to calm down, and think.

A new, louder echoing roar told him the mother had emerged into the forest. Birds burst upward into black clouds and forest critters all scattered.

She was hunting.

For him.

He wiped his palms on his pants.

He needed a distraction. And he knew what was near.

Darcel yipped, mimicking a female murkwiler in heat.

The sound cut through the dark as he ran, repeating it at intervals.

Moments later, silver eyes flared and a murkwiler lunged at him.

Darcel barely reacted in time, thrusting out a witherwing tusk still slick with gore. It reeked of the shadow-crawler den.

He tossed it aside.

The murkwiler’s eyes tracked its arc, and then pounced on it.

Two more burst from the brush, fighting over it. Darcel threw another tusk, then another. He kept two.

They chewed on them, the blood coating their muzzles.

He backed away slowly into the shadows.

A breath like rolling thunder stirred the bushes.

The mother was here. She would smell the den on that blood.

The shadow-crawler burst from the brush in a blur of shining purple scales and snapping teeth, wings flaring wide enough to scatter snow and ice in a violent mess. It was a younger one, but still massive, its claws longer than Darcel’s forearm, its breath curling with dark vapor.

She roared and seized one murkwiler whose muzzle was covered in the tusk gore, tore it in half, and threw one half away while devouring the other like a snake with a rat.

The other murkwilers yipped in fear and darted into the woods.

The shadow-crawler chased them into the dark trees.

And Darcel ran the opposite direction.

He didn’t know how long they would distract her. Even with the oil, she might soon realize they smelled of her den but not of her egg.

He ran through the woods, darted past ponds, and ducked fallen trees.

He glimpsed the edge of the Ironwood forest. Beyond it lay the open plains to Stonehold.

Hope flickered in his heart.

Something tangled in his legs, tripping him.

He slammed into the ground, his breath driven from him.

From the tree shadows surged the shadow-crawler, eyes blazing with purple fury.

She lunged.

He rolled aside and scrambled between the trees, keeping trunks between them, dodging claws and snapping jaws.

Step by step, he edged toward the forest edge.

She reached around the trees, snapping at him, and her tail hit him from the other direction.

But confusion flickered in her gaze.

He knew why.

He hadn’t attacked her.

“I don’t understand either,” he rasped. “Why aren’t you killing me?”

She hissed.

A claw sliced the air behind him.

And then he understood.

She wanted the egg intact, so she was herding him.

He burst from the forest as dawn broke over the hills. He pulled his hood and mask on to protect himself and ran into the rising sun’s rays of light.

The shadow-crawler darted after him.

Light touched her scales and she screeched a bone chilling cry as smoke sizzled up.

She recoiled into the trees, roaring at the sky.

Darcel ran into the open, pulling his wide brimmed hat on as the sun burned over the land.

The mother bellowed in fury, pacing the forest’s edge in the shade, screaming at him in a long string of different sounds, from roars to whimpers to gnashing her teeth.

Heart pounding and his ears ringing, Darcel staggered across the plain toward Stonehold, smoke rising from his cloak.

He kept the dragon egg secure in his pack, and prayed he reached the doors and safety before the sun killed him.

TOC | Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Back Cover

Author Notes:

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

TOC | Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Back Cover

The story so far in Chapter 1-6: Darcel witnesses an impossible woman walking unharmed in deadly sunlight, sparking rumors that divide Stonehold between faith, fear, and denial. Determined to uncover the truth, he ventures into the light and meets the Dawn Bringers, who reveal a wider world connected by ancient portals and powered by bonding with dragons. Now hunted by suspicion and driven by loss and curiosity, Darcel decides to go into the forest and steal a dragon egg.

The next cycle, Kerynd returned to Darcel’s living unit, more furtive than ever after the Shadowkeeper visit, and showed Darcel the translations of two more chapters.

The warden flipped through the new information, which spoke of plants and herbs from other continents with medicinal and other useful properties. He could tell that his friend was beside himself at acquiring such knowledge about a world they no longer ventured into very far.

Darcel stopped on a recipe for an oil that was meant to hide a person’s scent from shadow-crawlers, or dragons as they were called in the book. “This protects us from the crawlers?”

Kerynd nodded emphatically, one eye on the translations and one on Darcel, inquiring. “So it says. All but one of the ingredients can be acquired in our market. Will ye at least let me share this with the potions masters? I can make up some mummery about where I found the recipe, yeah, but this would help protect our hunters from crawlers.”

Darcel eyed the ingredient list, and nodded. “Okay. I agree.” He sighed. “These ancient books have useful things for the Gloamers, and the Veil Keepers would burn them.”

Kerynd nodded. “I know. And we can’t travel to obtain that last ingredient, no, but the oil may still work.”

Which was good, because how could one possibly travel elsewhere?

Any explorers sent out were killed by the sun or shadow-crawlers or other predators. Only the short roads to close holds were traveled.

Darcel thought about telling Kerynd that he planned to go into the forest the next cycle to hunt for an egg, but the librarian would likely keel over from fright. So in the end, he kept it to himself.

The next day, after boundary duty, Darcel bought supplies, telling the merchants that he planned to conduct a hunting run. It was common for Wardens to bring back fish and game for families or to sell.

He stocked up on the items he needed to survive in the moon lit forests of dangerous predators, as well as the materials to make that oil.

Then he met Kerynd at the potions house to share the recipe. Kerynd told the masters that he’d found it in an old Gloamer tome. They didn’t question it, given the usefulness it could have in protecting Gloamer hunters.

They made it, and Darcel took some, telling them he’d test it on his next hunting run.

The next cycle was the seventh cycle of the span, and Darcel didn’t have boundary duty.

So he waited near the main doors very early, at the end of daylight. Others waited too, mostly hunters and gatherers and merchants.

He leaned against the wall, his small pack at his feet, and thought about the translated information, wherein there were two paths.

One method of bonding a crawler, or dragon as Solari had called them, was hatching an egg.

Hatchling bonding. Egg raised. Imprint forged in growth.

The second method was besting an adult without killing it.

Imprinting through taming.

He barked a humorless laugh.

Every battle he’d ever fought against a crawler had been run or die. There was no sparring or restraint or space for mercy. Even the strongest Wardens fell screaming beneath the shadow blight if they hesitated.

An egg made more sense.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, to Myra’s memory, to himself, or to whatever Goddesses still watched the twilight.

Then he pressed the newly made oil into the leather at his throat, a bitter mixture crushed from herbs named in the ancient translations.

The scent clung to him, sharp and resinous, masking the smell of human sweat and skin. A few of the gatherers nearby side eyed him and sidled away.

It was a strong, herbal scent. He supposed he now smelled like moss and earth.

Shadow-crawlers hunted by scent as much as sound. If the book spoke true, this would keep them from noticing him.

When the last rays of light fell behind the distant hills, the Wardens on duty opened the doors.

He tipped his head to the right in greeting to his colleagues on duty, and stepped outside.

The darkening horizon shifted to a soft blue that cast the landscape of black trees and ice into a gentler tone, silhouetting the Ironwood forest in the distance.

At night, the great double doors opened into a living world of twilight, vendors setting up just beyond them, calling softly beneath pale moon lamps that cast dim light, given Gloamers saw well in twilight. Nearby, hunters were sharpening blades, and duelists were circling one another in practice.

Twilight was the Gloamers’ hour. They came alive, their senses sharpened, and their spirits rising.

Darcel strode into the dusk, his boots crunching on thin ice, his black Warden cloak billowing behind him.

Some eyes turned to follow him.

Others whispered.

He was the Warden who’d seen the Dawn Bringers. The one the Faithful prayed to, while the Veil Keepers warned of a Second Unraveling.

The religious fervor had only increased since his sighting, and he hadn’t even told them all of it yet.

The Ironwood forest welcomed him with a cool breath and whispering boughs. Fog curled low over the gnarled roots like smoke from an unseen fire, tangling in eddies about his legs as he snuck into the dark, quiet as a whisper.

The trees were tall and black barked, their branches thick with frost. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in broken shards, dappling the icy ground as he moved within the shifting interplay of shadow and light.

He put his cloak into his pack, so that he wore only the sleeveless jerkin of the hunters. In the hold, citizens covered for modesty. But out here, in the forest, their naturally mottled skin let the hunter meld into the dappled, shadowy light of twilight and moon.

It made the Gloamer one of the predators of the dark.

By day, the forest lay quiet, almost meek. By dusk, it awoke.

Purple glowbugs drifted between the trunks, and pale blooms opened only at night. Bioluminescent amphibians crooned from hidden pools, and glowing fungi clung to the roots. Something skittered above him.

The forest was alive.

Darcel drew his cloak tighter and slowed his breathing, a thin ease settling through him. Every Gloamer belonged to shadow.

This was his world.

He moved quietly, tracking by instinct as well as predatory sight, because his vision was well suited to twilight.

He circled wide, scanning for signs: acid burned bark, collapsed drifts, or claw marks etched into stone.

All his life, such signs had meant avoidance.

Now he hunted for them.

That dissonance pressed at his mind, between what he had been taught and what he now sought.

Through the woods he searched as twilight turned to full night, and the stars spread above.

A branch cracked.

He froze.

Darcel slipped behind a broad trunk, breath tight, as a vast shadow passed between the trees. Moonlight rippled across purple scales.

He waited until the crawler vanished deeper into the forest, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t seemed to smell him.

Then he followed.

He followed more signs: broken branches, gouged stone, and patches where the light seemed thinner, swallowed by the creature’s passing wake of shadow and ash.

In a ravine enclosed by thorns and trees, he found its den.

The den was beneath a thicket of umbrathorns.

The thorns twisted like a living wall, barbs drinking the light, their venom known to twist the mind with hallucination. Among the thorns bloomed violet, many petaled flowers that glowed softly in the moonlight like a sea of stars.

Darcel swallowed and crept closer, keeping to shadow.

Few had ever entered such a den. Fewer still returned.

Once every six or seven seasons, someone managed to retrieve an egg for the chief’s kitchens and was richly rewarded. Most died trying. Most didn’t try at all.

Darcel cared nothing for the chief or rewards or notice. So he’d never bothered, until now.

He reapplied the oil and waited.

A scraping of scales against stone made him alert.

The crawler emerged from the den.

At the sight of it, memory struck him like a slap.

Her screams. Her blood in the sand. The pieces of her body.

He pressed a hand to himself and ran it down his chest to calm the surge of rage and grief.

The creature’s head darted left and right, searching.

Its body was long and serpentine, clad in iridescent purple scales. A dark mane of long black tendrils ran along its neck. And its eyes glowed violet in the night, a sight that haunted any hunter in the forest.

Claws curved into the dirt, razor sharp, and its wings were folded tight.

Its tongue flicked out, like a snake, scenting the air.

Darcel’s breath stuttered.

Could it smell him?

Then it shot forward and vanished into the forest.

He exhaled sharply. The oil had worked.

He slipped down to the den, and avoided the thorns as he entered the thicket. He stopped and carefully picked thorns and put them into a small bag. A diluted form of the poison was used for numbing pain. He could sell it to the potion masters for a fair price.

Then he crouched at the entrance to the den.

Was he truly going inside?

What if it returned?

What if more lurked below?

What if there were no eggs at all?

His heart pounded and his palms sweat.

A warrior knew when to fight, and also when to avoid a fight or evade.

This was madness to enter that monster’s lair.

He exhaled.

By the Ash.

It was the only way he’d be able to see Solari’s continent of sun and meet the Void Striders. And he very much wanted to do both.

He took one step inside.

Then another.

And he crept into the den of a dragon.

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Author Note

Images were made at Midjourney. I had a lot of fun imagining up what the Gloamer forest would look like.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

Story so Far: In Chapters 1-5, Darcel, a warden in twilight bound Stonehold, witnesses the impossible: a woman walking unharmed in deadly sunlight, sparking rumors of Dawn Bringers. He ventures into the sun and discovers they are not goddesses, but travelers from another part of the world, and bonded to dragons. Now in possession of a forbidden text, he turned to his friend Kerynd to uncover its secrets.

Darcel grumbled when he realized the rumors hadn’t died down.

Whispers surged beneath the icy arches of the market square. Merchants gossiped. Voices overlapped. The market pulsed with life as it usually did in the early hours of the cycle just after sunset.

Vendors called to passersby, hunters bartered their furs or fish or meat, and echoes of the lively compound bounded off stone and ice.

A woman in light gray robes stepped into Darcel’s path as he bought supplies for meals.

“Our Lady of Light blesses ye,” she said fervently, her silver eyes fixed on him. He’d heard of her before. Her name was Faithful Honor.

Her flock of Faithful apostles gathered behind her, all their eager eyes trained on him.

“Ye saw her,” one whispered. “Did she offer ye the elixir of everlasting light?”

Darcel stiffened. “No one gave me any elixirs.”

Truth.

Before they could press further, another group surged in, and a man shoved Honor aside.

He wore the robes of the Veil Keepers, purple with silver shadow runes stitched along the hems.

One of the newcomer’s eyes narrowed on Honor; the other was trained on Darcel. “Don’t encourage the infidel women of ruinous light!”

Darcel knew him too. It was the head keeper, Umbrist Sidero. He was the most violently vocal about burning or banning any information from the Ancients, and about shutting down any plan or project to foray out into the day. His black eyes looked like fathomless pots of writing ink, set over a hooked nose and a seemingly permanent sneer.

Faithful Honor stepped back in, silver eyes flashing with annoyance. “Our Lady will lead us into the everlight. May her blessings shine down upon ye, my child.”

Umbrist Sidero sneered. “Women should be home cooking for their mates or fathers.”

The group of Faithful women looked like they might combust on the spot, sun or no sun.

Faithful Honor snapped, “Doubt and oppression is a sickness of the unfaithful.”

Umbrist Sidero waved a hand in dismissal and turned his back on her. “Heretic Honor, you will burn with the rest. Mercy is reserved for the chosen who accept the scripture of the Second Unraveling, which is nigh upon us.”

One of Honor’s flock stepped forward, gray eyes smoldering. “The sun will cleanse us as the Faithful step into the everlight.”

The other Faithful nodded exuberantly.

Umbrist Sidero’s mouth opened to retort, but Darcel cut him off with a flick of his hand. He’d had enough. “Stop. All of ye.”

Many eyes turned to him, including those of onlookers from the crowd and merchants.

“Yer all sunsick.”

He left them squabbling behind him, frustrated.

He couldn’t believe in Gods or Goddesses or anything else. Because if they were real, they wouldn’t have taken Myra from him. No. Not her. Not her pure soul.

He went to work his shift at the light boundary, annoyed and ruminating.

The weight of it all settled like a stone. Women of Light. Portals. Ancient books. Warring factions. And a Chief who would kill him if he didn’t turn that book over. But if he did, people like Umbrist Sidero were sure to get their hands on it and burn it before anyone could learn anything. And after seeing, and speaking to, the Dawn Bringers, he had to know more.

And until he did, this needed to remain a secret, especially after seeing what only a rumor of the Dawn Bringers was doing to the Gloamers. They’d fall apart when they learned they were real.

He went home, ate, and tried to read. But his mind wandered back to the meeting with Solari again and again, of her amber eyes, and bare arms.

He blushed.

She had been pretty, her skin dark and smooth, and she’d been calming in her demeanor. He liked that, unlike these religious fanatics.

He finally gave up on reading and went to bed, worry edging his dreams as he slept.

The knock came late in the day portion of the cycle.

Too late.

Darcel was fully asleep when it sounded, soft but urgent.

Paranoid worry permeated him about the Veil Keepers or the Chief. He grabbed his black blade and strode to the door, cracking it open.

Kerynd stood there, eyes darting in different directions.

Darcel opened the door, and his friend stumbled inside, eyes bright with both anxiety and excitement.

He tipped his head to the right, as did his friend.

“I translated two chapters so far,” he whispered. “It’s amazing, completely amazing. Oh, the things we’ll learn from these books, yeah.”

Darcel shut the door and bolted it. “Slow down.”

Kerynd dropped a bundle of pages onto the table, hands shaking. “It’s a historical reference book, like an encyclopedia.”

“Of what?”

“Many things. This chapter was about the Aether Arches,” Kerynd said, running a hand through his charcoal and silver-streaked hair. “How they work. It says the Ancients build them, and they allow travel to other places on our world. And this second chapter is about shadow-crawlers, er, dragons as the Ancients called them. It’s complete sunsick madness, Darcel. They outline how one bonds to a shadow-crawler. Bond? To a shadow-crawler! Can ye believe it?”

Darcel’s chest tightened.

Two images surfaced unbidden. One a dream of the golden crawler speaking in his mind, looking at him with amber eyes as intelligent as any Gloamer’s. Another of purple scales and tearing claws over the screams of Myra.

He shuddered and closed his eyes briefly.

Still, he could believe it, because he’d seen it.

Kerynd watched him with sad eyes. “We… we have missed Myra too.”

Darcel opened his eyes, caught his friend’s gaze, and nodded, saying flatly, “Shadow-crawlers are monsters.”

Kerynd nodded, turning pages to reveal more sketches and notes. “This chapter covered their anatomy, flight patterns, how to make a harness and saddle, and more.”

Darcel stared, disbelief hollowing him out. “Saddle? So ride one?”

His friend nodded, eyes wide. “Like I said, complete sunsick madness. The book says it was easier to bond with hatchlings. So, they’d gather eggs and then raise the dragon from birth.”

Darcel’s mind again thought of the little baby golden crawler at Solari’s shoulder.

“An egg,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“But stealing one…”

“Is certain death,” Kerynd said. “The Chief loves a crawler omelet, yet only gets it maybe once every six or eight seasons, because nobody dares collect them. But apparently the Ancients did, yeah.”

“So, the Ancients were sunsick.”

Kerynd nodded. “Goddesses of Light, oh what lectures I’ll be able to give on the Ancients now. Well, not now, no, of course not. I’ll keep it secret for now. But, eventually. If those religious fanatics don’t keep trying to shut us down.”

Darcel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand why they are even afraid of just knowing about the Ancients?”

“Because it’s easier to control an ignorant populace.”

Darcel ran a hand down his face, pursing his lips.

Will I have to bond the very beasts that killed her?

“When can ye translate the other chapters?”

“I’ll keep working on it.”

They combed over the chapters until the new cycle started.

Darcel was about to tell Kerynd he had to leave for boundary duty when a loud, booming pounding came at the door, much different than Kerynd’s soft, hesitant knock.

Both their heads jerked around.

What in the Ash now?

He grabbed the papers and sprinted to the next room, hiding them in the secret hollow behind the stone.

The pounding came again. “Open by authority of the Wardens.”

When Darcel returned to the main room, Kerynd’s eyes were wide, one on him and one on the door, worry etched on his face.

Darcel took a deep breath to calm himself and swung the door open.

Head Warden Tynan stood there, gray hair askew, silver eyes apologetic, one on Darcel and one on Kerynd. He tipped his head right. “Sorry to bother ye, Darc. But this Veil Keeper,” his voice dripped with disdain and venom, “somehow managed to get a warrant to search your premises for any Dawn Bringer relics.”

Darcel sighed heavily. “Who in the Ash gave a warrant based on myth and legend?”

Umbrist Sidero stepped forward, his purple robes with silver embroidery swinging around his feet. He peered down his hooked nose at Darcel, oily hair sticking to his forehead over his beady inky eyes. “We have contacts in the Chief’s council, because everyone fears the Second Unraveling, as they well should. There is only one path to salvation, and all others lead to ruin.”

Darcel rolled his eyes but stepped back to let them in.

Kerynd’s fingers twitched, his eyes darting between everyone. He wouldn’t know what a good hiding place Darcel had.

The librarian twisted his hands in his tunic, anxiety evident in his voice. “Do… do I need to stay, Sir Warden?”

Tynan shook his head. “No sense in you being drawn into this mummery.”

Kerynd didn’t need more incentive. He tipped his head left and bolted from the room, casting a worried glance over his shoulder at Darcel.

Darcel waved him off with a smile and a nod to put him at ease. “The path keep ye, friend.”

Umbrist Sidero’s voice coated them like oil. “You must not aid the Dawn Bringers. They are corrupted beyond saving, and the unbelievers can’t be trusted.”

Darcel crossed his arms. “I’m not helping anyone with anything.”

Truth.

Suspicion flickered in the fanatic’s eyes, but he became engrossed in following Tynan around as the Warden sifted through Darcel’s things, doing so without any real zeal or dedication. He clearly didn’t want to have to do this.

Finally, Tynan said, “There be nothing wayward here.”

Umbrist Sidero’s inky eyes shifted, one on Tynan and one on Darcel. He started to speak, but Tynan pushed him toward the door. “I think we’ve wasted enough of Darcel’s time. He has a light boundary shift now.”

The Head Warden tipped his head left. “The path keep ye, Darc.” He looked apologetic over his shoulder as he ushered the Veil Keeper out.

Darcel shrugged, tipped his head left, and feigned nonchalance.

But when the door shut, he exhaled shakily and ran a hand down his face.

He was being watched. And they were willing to violate his privacy nothing by a rumor.

Would Kerynd be next? Surely not.

They would need to be very, very careful.

His duty was to Chief and compound, not these religious zealots. But still, he knew he must hide this information from even the Chief, at least for now, especially if he was paranoid enough to grant the Veil Keepers a search warrant.

He bolted the door and pulled Kerynd’s translations out again, reviewing the notes on the shadow-crawlers.

Dragons.

The thought of bonding the murderer of his mate burned through him, making each breath feel like he’d swallowed broken glass.

But that was apparently the only way to use the Aether Arch, confirmed not just by Solari’s words, but by the book of the Ancients.

Bond a dragon.

He paced the narrow length of his unit. His thoughts ran in circles, colliding and mixing, but always returning to that same impossible truth. He stopped and pressed both palms to the ice wall, breath fogging the surface.

Bond a shadow-crawler.

The idea sat like a curse.

Every lesson he’d ever learned screamed against it. Shadow-crawlers were a horrible demise of shadows and teeth and screaming. Shadow-crawlers had torn Myra apart in the dark, had left nothing but part of her mangled corpse in the snow, and a bitter hole in his chest.

Shadow-crawlers were death.

But, whether he liked it or not, this would be his next step if he wanted to use the Aether Arch and see Solari’s continent of sun and meet the Void Striders.

And, to do it, he would have to venture deep into the dark Ironwood forest looking for the monsters so he could attempt to steal an egg.

It was pure sunsick madness.

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Author Notes

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

In this chapter, we meet the factions once more, and learn a bit more about the people Darcel will struggle with to bring to light (I used that pun on purpose) the new information he is learning about. I wrote more about the building of this world for this story at my Substack section, The Bone Architect.

TOC | Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Back Cover

Story so Far: In Chapters 1-4, Darcel Nighthawk, a Gloamer warden who lives in a light‑averse society, witnesses an impossible sight at dawn: a woman walking unharmed in sunlight, whom he believes to be a Dawn Bringer. His report spreads through Stonehold as rumor and religious panic. When two Dawn Bringers appear again, Darcel defies instinct and steps into the deadly light to meet them. They give him a book to learn about their past and the other humans on the same planet.

Darcel slowed before the large double doors of Stonehold’s main entrance, avoiding the sun the entire way, the warmth of the sun on his cloak unbearable. He shoved the bag from Solari and Harmony under his cloak and slammed his fist on the ebony wood.

Nox gave him a withering look as he opened it.

Darcel darted into the cool shadows of the compound, breath ragged, cloak still smoking faintly. He flipped his hood off. “I lost track of the time.”

Truth.

In a sense.

“Ye are sunsick.” Nox handed over his flask of water.

So Nox hadn’t seen the women. That was good. Because if Nox knew anything at all, then everyone in all of Stonehold would know as well by cycle end.

Darcel had endured enough rumor mongering during the last few cycles; he scarcely believed it all himself and needed time to take in this new information.

Darcel’s throat was raw and dry. He drained the entire flask.

“By the Ash, Darc, now ain’ got any none left!”

Darcel clapped Nox on the shoulder. “I’ll get ye more.”

He went to the cistern and filled his flask, draining it. Then he did it again. Only then did the painful rasping in his throat ease, and the buzzing along his skin cool. He filled Nox’s flask and returned it.

A memory of the golden woman rubbing her arms and saying she was cold flashed through his mind.

He barked a short laugh.

Cold? How could that be?

He reported to the Watch Hall with nothing of consequence, though the weight of the sac beneath his cloak made him nervous.

Then he hastened to his living chamber, closing the door slowly behind him to make sure no one watched from the ice lined hall outside.

He was becoming downright paranoid.

The ice wall glowed faintly blue over the stone table as light diffused from the hall outside. He dumped the sac onto the table and reached to open it, then hesitated.

Once he opened this bag, there was no going back.

He stared at it. And stared.

What did these books say? What would they teach and uncover?

Darcel understood, with sickening clarity, that the unraveling had not begun with the Dawn Bringers, as myth claimed. They were simply people, different, yes, but people all the same, from another part of this world.

Another part of this same world.

He had too many questions now that needed answers.

With stiff fingers, he loosened the laces and pulled out two ancient books, both bound in cracked leather, their golden metal clasps intricately carved.

The runes were unrecognizable, and certainly older than anything he’d learned.

He unclasped one and flipped it open.

Inside were drawings of Aether Arches, of machines he’d never seen, and of buildings unlike any he knew. Later chapters depicted animals and plants, some familiar, like the shadow-crawlers that were rendered in painstaking detail, while others were entirely foreign.

None of the script resembled modern Gloamer writing, so he understood nothing, but he fingered the drawings, intrigued.

Where had the women found these ancient texts?

He shut the book slowly.

“Well,” he muttered, “that simply won’t do.”

What he needed was help, and he knew exactly who might offer it: an old friend who worked in the library, Kerynd.

But should he tell him?

Nox’s big mouth made him wary.

Darcel didn’t want anyone knowing about these books yet. The Faithful would venerate them, the Veil Keepers would burn them, and the Chief would confiscate them. Darcel needed time to assess them before sharing the knowledge out.

At last he relented to the idea of asking Kerynd for help, because Darcel simply couldn’t translate these on his own.

But he hadn’t seen Kerynd in a couple seasons. Not since the death of Myra. Would his old friend welcome him, or be angry at him?

He crossed to the wall by his bed and pried loose a stone concealing a hidden hollow. Nestling the books inside, he sealed it shut.

Then he went to sleep.

He dreamed of shining fireflies being snapped from the air by the golden crawler, Aurela. The beast’s large shimmering amber eyes turned on him, and he felt her say in his mind, Come soon, Gloam Strider.

He woke with a start.

The feeling of the crawler’s foreign mind inside his head sent a shiver up his spine. The dream clung to him like sweat. They were vicious monsters.

He rubbed his arms, which felt uncharacteristically chilled.

Buzzing with bad memories, he was unable to go back to sleep.

Rising, he worked on sword routines until he knew it was time for the library to open.

Leaving one book safely hidden, just in case he was mistaken about the trustworthiness of his friend, he grabbed the other and left.

The icy halls of the compound were quiet at this early time of the cycle, which started as soon as the sun set. He traversed to the multi level library deeper within, far from the light boundary. The circular chamber of black stone and ancient shelves was capped on top with a thick plate of ice that filtered soft blue light downward, mimicking twilight.

Darcel entered quietly, careful not to disturb the many students already at work. The scent of dust and parchment and ink hung heavy in the air.

Darcel strolled about, and finally on the second level he found his old friend, who was hunched over a table strewn with old scrolls.

He strolled up. “Kerynd. How are ye?”

The shorter, more rotund librarian looked up, gray eyes widening before a wide grin spread across his face, his charcoal hair threaded with silver, matching his gray eyes. His name meant the last light before night, fitting for a man who lived among lost words and forgotten histories. “By the Ash, Darc. It’s been many a season we’ve missed ye.”

They clasped arms, memories of long nights drinking and carousing surfacing, all before Darcel’s mate had died. Myra and Kerynd’s wife, Lornos, had once been close. After her death, everything had fractured.

Guilt ate at Darcel for the time he’d spent avoiding them so that he didn’t have to be reminded of what he’d lost.

Before bitterness could take hold, Darcel patted Kerynd’s gut. “Why, if ye ain’t getting a keeper belly.”

Kerynd slapped his hand away, but smiled affably in his usual friendly manner, not at all offended. “Stop it now, Darc. We can’t all be warriors like ye, no, though I ain’t no religious sort neither, but I was never any good with a sword. Well, I like it here in the library, yeah. It suits me fine.”

One of Kerynd’s eyes flicked to the sword hilt at Darcel’s shoulder. “Ye still on boundary duty, then?”

“Six of eight cycles per span of each season,” Darcel replied. “Though I still prefer the dark season over the current light season.”

Kerynd nodded, and ran a hand through his hair, pointed ears peeking through. “Watching the dawn boundary must be interesting. I’m not sure I could do it, no, not when the sun burns so hot. I prefer reading in a dim corner.”

Darcel clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s precisely why I’m here. I need help translating old runes.”

Kerynd straightened, both eyes swiveling to him with curiosity. “Did ye find an ancient artifact in the Ironwood Forest?”

“Something like that.” Darcel glanced around. “Have ye a …private space?”

Kerynd tipped his head, curiosity gleaming in his gray eyes. “Well, sure we do, of course. Follow me.”

They settled into a small alcove away from prying eyes.

Darcel checked the doorway, then said quietly, “Ye must swear on the life of yer mate and the memory of mine that ye won’t speak a word of this.”

Kerynd’s rubbed his rotund belly. “What have ye found, Darc? Ye aren’t in any trouble I hope? I’ve heard some odd rumors.”

“Do ye promise?”

“Yeah, of course, I tell it true, I’ll keep yer secret.”

Darcel laid the sac on the table and drew out the book.

Kerynd inhaled sharply, eyes glowing as he traced the runes on the leather with reverent fingers. “Goddess of Light. These were all lost eons ago. Where did ye find such a well preserved book?”

Darcel frowned. He couldn’t tell his friend, at least, not yet. It was customary to ignore a question rather than lie. “Apparently not all were lost.”

One of Kerynd’s eyes swiveled to him, curiosity evident, but he didn’t press. “Some were destroyed by decree too.” The other eye swept the room, likely to assure nobody was near. “Do ye understand the chaos this will cause? The Chief? The Faithful?”

“Or the Veil Keepers,” Darcel said. “I know. It’s trouble.”

Kerynd laughed humorlessly. “That’s one word for it, yeah.”

He opened the book with gentle care. “I can attempt a rudimentary translation by cross referencing it with old scrolls. But this is a very rare find. The Faithful would pay a fortune for it, and those religious fanatics would burn it in the central square.”

Darcel leaned in. “I know. They’re already harassing me over nothing but rumors.”

“I heard. Ye know, Chief Zarot might kill ye for keeping this.”

Darcel ran a hand down his face.

Did he have to worry about Kerynd sharing this too soon? He hoped not. “We’ll of course share it, eventually. My duty is always to the Chief and Stonehold. But, first, we need copies hidden away, just in case those nuts in the Veil Keepers do get ahold of it and burn it.”

Kerynd smiled faintly. “True. By rumor, these were guides to ancient portals for trade and travel. The Chief won’t like that one bit. It would strip his control over commerce.”

Darcel leaned back, thinking of the silver portal. But he didn’t share that yet either. “Are ye in?”

Kerynd laughed softly. “Of course I am. This is the academic opportunity of a lifetime!” He fingered the sac. “Where did this sac come from? This fiber isn’t from any Gloamer trade routes, no, or not that I know of.”

Darcel swore to himself.

Damn his learned eye.

“It was with the book.”

Kerynd narrowed his gaze on Darcel.

Darcel slid the sac toward him. “Use it to cover the book. Burn it. Keep it. Do as ye please with it.”

The librarian ran a hand over the sac. “Eventually, ye must tell me all.”

Darcel stood and clasped arms with his old friend, nodding, and tipped his head to the left. “The path keep ye.”

Kerynd did the same. “And ye. I’m glad ye came.”

Darcel nodded, and left the library with his hood low and headed for the market, hoping the rumors had died down.

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Author Notes

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

In this chapter, we are introduced more to the Gloamer society, culture, and religions. Their beliefs and practices all center around the fact that they live in near eternal twilight. I wrote more about the building of this world in this story at my other Substack, The Bone Architect.

TOC | Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Back Cover

Story so Far: In Chapters 1-3, Darcel Nighthawk, a Gloamer warden who lives in a light‑averse society, witnesses an impossible sight at dawn: a woman walking unharmed in sunlight, whom he believes to be a Dawn Bringer. His report spreads through Stonehold as rumor and religious panic. When two Dawn Bringers appear again, Darcel defies instinct and steps into the deadly light to meet them.

Now seeing them up close, as well as Darcel’s night-vision eyes would let him, it was difficult to discount them as goddesses of light when they glowed like gold. The sun danced and sparkled in blond or golden locks braided past their shoulders.

They were tall and willowy, in simple shifts, with their arms uncovered. He’d never seen women walk outside a home with bare arms. He averted his gaze from their tanned skin. It was unseemly to be so exposed.

Darcel tipped his head to the right in peaceful greeting. “Yer the Dawn Bringers,” he rasped. “We thought ye but legend and myth.”

The woman he’d seen before smiled, her amber eyes bright as the rising light. “We are many things,” she said gently. “But we are not legends, and we do not bring the dawn. The sun orbits as it will.”

The other woman nodded and said, “Look. His big eyes move in different directions from each other.”

He shifted one eye to look at her, while the other remained trained on the first woman. “Yers don’t?”

They shook their heads.

He grunted. “That must be terribly inconvenient for hunting or fighting.”

Their eyebrows raised over eyes much smaller than Gloamer eyes, and in shades of brown and amber.

The first woman said, “We don’t hunt, though we do fish.”

Darcel squinted. “Fish. Women?”

The first woman blinked. “Of course.”

She pushed a gold braid behind her ear of rounded tips unlike the pointed ears of Gloamers. And that was when Darcel noticed the small animal coiled around her neck.

It looked like a baby shadow-crawler, the scaly beasts Gloamers feared above all else. This one was very young, probably a new hatchling, but with scales the color of burnished gold, unlike the purple hues of the shadow-crawlers native to this region. Its wings were larger than a shadow-crawler’s too. The golden creature’s tail wrapped loosely around her arm as it eyed Darcel with curiosity, its head tilted at an angle.

Rage bubbled up his throat as memories surfaced of Myra being torn apart by the monsters. Shadow-crawlers were a menace. Never would a Gloamer dare befriend one. They were too violent and only good for killing. He looked away from it, trying to stem the tide of bitterness eating his heart.

“What are ye named?” he asked.

The lead woman inclined her head. “We are the Zephyrs. We live over the great southern seas. I am Solari of House Desaris, Dancer of Water.” She then tilted her head to the golden crawler upon her shoulder. “And this is Aurela.”

The shocked snort of disdain escaped Darcel before he could stop it. “You named that monster?”

The golden crawler’s head snapped toward him, amber eyes narrowing.

Solari blinked again. “Of course. She is my bonded companion.”

Companion?

He was so incredulous he couldn’t even reply.

The second woman with brown eyes and the more golden hair said, “I am Harmony of House Radiantyr, Singer of Winds.”

Solari gestured toward him. “May we know your calling?”

His brows furrowed.

At his confusion she said, “Your, uh, name?”

“Oh. I am Darcel Nighthawk.”

The women waited.

And the silence extended.

Harmony finally asked, “Darcel Nighthawk of…?”

He blinked. “Of, what?”

“What is your house and calling?”

He shrugged. “I ain’t never heard that before. We are the Gloamers, and this is the compound of Stonehold. So, I guess if ye must insist, I am Darcel Nighthawk of the Stonehold Gloamers.”

They nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Solari looked across the landscape. “You know, Darcel Nighthawk of Stonehold, until I had the courage to come here I had never seen snow or twilight, nor walked upon what you call land.”

Harmony nodded and crouched to trail her fingers through the icy snow, eyes wide with wonder.

Darcel swallowed. “Ye have no land or snow?”

This was a joke. It had to be. Land was everywhere, and always covered in ice and snow even at the warmest part of the year. And who would send women to investigate a new land?

Solari shook her head. “We are the Radiance Striders, and our continent is formed of warm, rocky pillar islands jutting up from the endless sea under an endless sun.”

“How are ye here?” he demanded. “Nothing can cross the light.”

Solari glanced briefly toward the sun, still crawling low along the horizon. “Where we are from, the sun is higher and never sets. And yet here, it barely rises before soon disappearing again.”

She gestured behind her, her head turning to look, the movement graceful and fluid.

Darcel squinted against the glare as his eyes followed her glance, and then he froze.

The ancient stone arch lay half-buried in frost-bitten ground. Its surface was covered in ancient carvings and pictures no Gloamer understood.

Normally, it stood neglected, as a curiosity for some, or an ancient relic for the Faithful. Gloamers knew not its history, nor did it have any known use.

But now the center of the arch rippled like molten silver, a mirror that reflected the land around him in shimmering waves.

Darcel’s breath caught, and he took an involuntary step toward it before stopping short at the line where the shade ended and the sun began.

“We learned how to open the Aether Arches,” Solari said.

“That, that’s a children’s tale,” he whispered. “The Ancients sealed the arches when the light unraveled.”

“No,” she said calmly. “The Ancients made them for us and left this world to us. We are the ones who sealed them. Us, you, and the Void Striders. We did so together, many eons ago. Then we buried the knowledge.”

Darcel dropped his gaze, eyes watering from the light, and ran a hand down his face. This had to be mummery.

Solari turned and pressed her palm to the stone.

The silvery surface rippled, and the runes flared blue.

“It’s a portal?” he whispered.

She nodded. “A crossing. But, you must bond with a dragon to power and use it.”

The golden shadow-crawler slipped behind her neck and peered at Darcel from her other shoulder, its large amber eyes so like hers.

He shook his head. “A dragon? Ye mean that shadow-crawler there? Are ye raving mad? The adults kill any who cross their path.” Loneliness and bitterness again surged forth. Those ashen creatures took Myra from him!

Both women smiled, and Solari said, “Yes. They had killed our kind too, until we learned the truth. With the bond you will be able to travel from your continent to ours through this Aether Arch. You use these runes.” She pointed at two along the arch. “These mark our location on Solnoc.”

Darcel’s brows furrowed. Old legends had claimed the arches led to other realms where the Goddesses of Light lived. But Solnoc was the name of his world too.

“But ye said the light never leaves yer land. So it can’t be the same world.”

Harmony stepped closer, a satchel woven from pale fabric in her hands, and a blade at her hip, its surface shining like the sun.

He was dumbstruck. A woman with a sword? They couldn’t be Goddesses if they fished. Well, did goddesses fish? He didn’t know. On the other hand, they had to be goddesses if they fought with swords. Women didn’t fight.

They were very perplexing.

Harmony extended the satchel toward him. “We have books for you,” Solari said. “So you may learn and remember.”

Darcel laughed once, sharp and brittle, staring at the bag. “We destroyed the ancient records after the unraveling.”

“Yes,” Solari replied, “and forgot who you really are.”

He wiped sweat from his brow, skin burning from the heat, and took the bag. It was heavy against his chest. “Which continent do ye hail from then?”

“We are from the southern half of the world,” she said. “You live in the middle reaches, where there is near eternal twilight.”

“And the Void Striders?”

Solari said, “They dwell below ground in caverns and tunnels of the coldest northern pole, where neither twilight nor sunlight ever reach, and night covers them at all times as our land is always lit with sun.”

Darcel shifted a step with the moving sun to remain in the cooler shadows.

Harmony rubbed her bare arms, and Darcel looked away, flushing. She said, “It is very cold here.”

The sun climbed higher, the heat nearly unbearable to him now.

Darcel snorted. “I’m burning up. If I stay here much longer, I fear I’ll faint, and then the sun will burn me to ash.”

Their eyes widened.

Harmony said, “So what the old texts speak true about your genetic variances made by the Ancients. You live in the night?”

Darcel stared at the woman, dumbfound. “Genetic variances? I dont know anything like that, but we do live by twilight and stars.”

Solari said, “This is but our third time through the arch. We have not explored far yet. Our genetic variances adapt us to sunnier climates, so we shall need warmer gear and clothes first.”

Darcel let out a very heavy sigh that gathered both their attention. “I’ll tell ye true that ye best be careful exploring here. There are those who will lock ye up and pray to ye, and others who’ll kill ye on sight.”

Solari’s brows rose nearly to her hairline. “Truly.”

“Then we should go,” Harmony said, her brown eyes darting around warily.

Solari said, “Read the ancient records. Then come through the portal to our land. We shall not pray to you or kill you. If you can, do so within twelve turns, and then you may join us when we go meet the Void Striders.”

“Turns?”

“Turns of the planet.”

Oh. She meant light cycles. He asked, “Ye’ll meet them up north?”

Solari nodded.

This intrigued him. These were the women of light, the Radiance Striders, as they so called themselves. So, what must the people of full dark be like?

Then the two women swept their hands sideways through the air. He decided it must be some type of welcome and farewell gesture.

He tipped his head left, saying, “The path keep ye.”

They turned and walked into the portal without another word, Solari’s golden shadow-crawler, Aurela, watching him with bright eyes back over her shoulder until they were swallowed by the shimmering silver inside the arch.

Energy wafted outward. The runes glowed blue, then dimmed, and the silver dissipated.

The arch became but stone and air once more.

Darcel blinked and heaved a great sigh.

Had he imagined it?

No.

Because the bag was nestled in his arms, solid and real.

And no Gloamer would ever believe him.

He turned and returned to Stonehold, smoke billowing from his cloak.

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Author Notes

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

In this chapter, we are introduced to the race of humans that live on another part of the planet. While this region (the Gloamers) exists in near eternal twilight, their region (Light Walkers) lives in eternal sunlight based on the position of the sun and the planet’s axis. I wrote more about the building of this world for this story at my other Substack section, The Bone Architect.

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Story so Far: In Chapter 1 and 2, Darcel answered a strange knock at dawn and witnesses an impossible woman walking unharmed in deadly sunlight, the mythical Dawn Bringer. When he reports it, his claims are dismissed and twisted into rumor and prophecy, deepening divisions within Stonehold. Certain of what he saw, Darcel resolves to return to the boundary and seek her out.

Toward the end of Darcel’s shift at the boundary, the sky thinned as it always did, from twilight to ash gray, then silver, that same sickly promise of shadow’s erasure.

Gloamer males that had been out hunting or females that foraged nearby all returned to Stonehold to avoid the short stint of light across the land. Different people had varying reactions to sunlight, but most were burned within minutes, their skin unable to endure it.

Healers said it was a disease. The Veil Keepers claimed it was a curse. The Faithful claimed it was meant to distinguish the worthy from the unworthy.

Darcel didn’t care how or why it was true. It was simply a fact that sunlight burned them to ash. So he preferred the colder season, when the light never rose above the horizon.

He pulled on his hood and face mask, and then also put on his very wide-brimmed hat that was meant to protect from the sun. Then he leaned against the wall in the shadows, watching for the Dawn Bringer again. But he saw nothing amiss and entered the compound just as sunlight spread across the land toward him.

Nox’s lips thinned as he let Darcel in. “Yer gonna fry yerself to a crisp.”

Darcel shrugged.

Nox smirked. “So, did ye see yer precious lady again?”

Darcel shook his head. “I’m just checking that the boundary is safe.”

Truth.

Of a sort.

Nox laughed. “Avoiding it, eh? So it was a sun shade after all!”

Darcel walked off without answering. It was best if Nox thought that. He gossiped more than most women.

For three more cycles, he did the same. Each time he saw no one.

Surprisingly, it was disappointment more than relief that ate at him.

One day, as Gloamers returned before dawn, a woman of portly bearing walked up to him, wearing the pale gray robes of the religious sect, the Faithful.

Only her face showed from the many layers of robes, as was custom, and upon her forehead was a silver tattoo of the sun. Her light gray eyes caught his. “Is it true ye saw a blessed Dawn Bringer?”

He sighed with apprehension.

He didn’t want to stoke the embers of their religious nonsense. But he also didn’t want to lie. He opted for evasion, as was the Gloamer way when truth wasn’t the best course of action. “It’s difficult to see in the sun.”

She crossed two hands over her chest in their gesture of faith. “The sun will remember the Faithful, and when the elixir is bestowed upon the worthy, we will walk in the sun with Our Lady of Light.”

He sighed again. “Ye best move in before the sun rises.”

She nodded and turned to leave, one eye shifting left to watch him as she walked away.

In the distance, near the large main double doors, he saw a group of Veil Keepers in their purple tunics, silver embroidery along the hems. Their eyes were mostly trained on Darcel, narrowed, with a few shifting to watch the Faithful apostle enter the compound, even more narrowed.

Several cycles later, and not seeing any woman in the light again, he decided that maybe it had been a sun shade after all.

At the next dawn, he ushered the last of the citizens inside.

Just as the first true line of golden light crested the icy hills, he turned to look, and his breath caught.

There she is again.

He straightened from his shadowed position, a chill running up his spine.

Not just her.

Them.

There were two Dawn Bringers this time.

He wasn’t sunsick and it wasn’t a shade.

They’re real.

He looked around. No Gloamers were still out. Only him.

He turned and observed the women once more. They stood farther out, near the broken pillars marking the old road. Light washed over them fully, outlining slender forms, pale cloaks, and golden faces lifted toward the dawn.

They didn’t shield their eyes or hide or flinch. They stood as if the light belonged to them.

One of them turned and looked directly at him, and he felt her awareness.

His breath caught. It looked like the same woman as before.

The light strengthened and ran across the land.

Sun was death.

But if you covered your skin and face well enough and stayed in the shadows of trees and icy pillars across the land, you could avoid the worst of the burning for a short while, until heat exhaustion took you.

Sometimes.

Once again, he pulled on his hood and face mask and wide-brimmed hat. Darcel drew a breath and turned his head slightly as the light bathed the ground near his shadowed watch. Warmth made his stomach churn as a drop of icy water on his Warden cloak sizzled and turned to steam.

But he didn’t run to the main doors and pound on them, demanding to be let back into the cool, welcoming darkness of the compound.

He braced his courage and stood there as the sun rose, heart hammering, and knew with bone deep certainty that the stories were no longer stories.

Behind him the city slept, unaware their world was about to shatter.

They’re real.

By the Ash, he was going out to meet a Dawn Bringer.

He pulled his hood low over his face to hide his skin from the light and stepped forward from the shadows.

He didn’t rush. One wrong step, one trip or fall or stumble, would mean singed skin beyond repair or death. Instinct screamed at him to turn back to the cool dark comfort of the compound.

But he was a Warden and a warrior. It was his job to protect Gloamers. So he wouldn’t back down.

Placing one foot carefully in front of the next, he moved with measured deliberation, his boots crunching in the thin layer of ice coated snow. He squinted, eyes watering, as he kept them fixed on the ground, fighting the blur and white haze creeping at the edges of his vision.

These women could stand in the light without turning to dust and ash. He had to see, had to know, if this was as true as he believed it was.

He stayed in the shadows where he could, slipping between the long black fingers cast by broken pillars of ice and half buried stone markers from an age no Gloamer remembered anymore. The old road was older than the city, older than the Stonehold walls themselves.

The growing warmth of the sun beat down on his cloak, from which steam rose up. The treated material held, for now, but it warmed his arms and legs to uncomfortable degrees. Sweat trickled down his back and prickled his scalp, and the air grew thick and heady, making each breath nauseating.

He took a long swig from his flask and kept going.

One foot in front of the other. He stepped past the few small plants and shrubs that poked up through the ice and snow, all in varying shades of white, red, or black, none needing the sun to survive, instead deriving nutrients from fungi and microbes in the soil or able to live upon just the light of the moons.

Arriving at the copse of shady trees on the hill, relief washed over him as he stepped into the welcome shade and protection from the light. Trees didn’t need direct light either, like all other plants in the region. But the tallest trees with ebony bark had sprawling leaves that unfurled in moonlight and curled up to protect themselves in full daylight. Right now they were curling closed, but still provided enough shadow to protect him.

He took another long drain from his flask, trying without success to cool down, and carefully remained in the shadows as he trekked to the edge of the copse.

The Dawn Bringers waited there.

He stopped just inside the shadow line the trees cast across the ground.

The two women faced him from across the demarcation between light and dark, their cloaks pale as bone in the rising sun.

The same woman he’d seen twice now stepped forward, her amber eyes piercing in the sunlight as her pupils constricted to tiny pinpricks.

She raised an empty hand.

Darcel tensed to fight, his fingers moving to his sword hilt.

But the golden woman only swept her hand sideways through the air, palm up.

He didn’t understand.

Her voice was melodic, the accent lilting and strange.

“Greetings, Gloam Strider.”

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Author Notes

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

In this chapter, we are introduced more fully to the world, which, as noted before, has three distinct light zones. This region exists in near eternal twilight, with only a brief period of light during the warmer seasons each year. The Gloamers who live here have a genetic mutation that makes them severely sensitive to light. I wrote more about the genetic mutations in this story, at my other Substack, The Bone Architect.

TOC | Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Back Cover

Story so Far: In chapter 1 Darcel answered a strange knock at dawn and discovered an impossible figure walking unharmed in the deadly sunlight, heralding the Second Unraveling.

By mid cycle, Darcel Kerrigan wished he’d kept his ashen mouth shut.

The city compound of Stonehold had sealed itself against dawn and day as it always did. Daytime was short, followed by twilight, which lasted most of the cycle, with only a very brief stretch of night in the middle during the warm season.

The outer ring of stone walls and enclosed walkways had all doors barred against the light by now, window panels slid into place, and shadows and darkness restored to their proper dominance.

The air settled back into cool shadowed safety.

The inner ring of covered and enclosed streets was always encased in cool shadows and a soft blue light from the ice overhead. All was quiet and still at this hour of the cycle when most Gloamers slept.

While the moment of danger at the main doors had passed, the warmth hadn’t left Darcel’s fingertips. He scrubbed them in the cool cistern until his knuckles ached, yet still he could feel the lingering echo of warmth beneath his skin.

It wasn’t painful like fire or sunlight would cause. It was more like an old memory brought on by a scent, or a dream one couldn’t quite recall after waking, with only the barest taunting glimpses remaining.

It clung to him as he monitored the dawn boundary, and he clenched and unclenched his hand.

By the time his shift was done and he checked in at Stonehold Watch Hall, word had already spread, creeping through those who were awake.

He walked into the main entry built of ebony wood trim and gray stone. Wardens just getting off duty or coming onto it all sat at a long ebony table, the men shifting in their black Warden cloaks.

The head Warden turned from the papers strewn across his desk and tipped his head slightly to the right in greeting.

“You look shaken,” Head Warden Tynan said. One ashen eye shifted to the others who whispered in the room while the other eye remained trained on Darcel, its lid lowering slightly. “I heard something breached the boundary?”

Darcel tipped his head to the right in return and answered automatically, “No, but…”

The pause was enough to elicit more curiosity.

Tynan straightened, both eyes focused on Darcel. “Come now, Darcel. Nox is telling a strange story already. Tell it true. What did ye see?”

Darcel opened his mouth.

And then closed it.

Around them, the other Wardens pretended not to listen, though they leaned subtly closer, pointed ears pricked to catch pieces of the conversation, black or charcoal mops of hair askew.

“There was, well, movement,” Darcel said carefully. “Beyond the hill at first light.”

A murmur rippled through the hall among all the men present. Someone muttered a warding phrase against shadow-crawlers. Another suggested a lost traveler from a distant hold.

Nox piped up from the table. “Tell them, Darc.”

Damn the day, Nox.

Tynan’s voice hardened. “Movement how?”

“Someone walking in the light,” Darcel said.

The whispering grew louder.

Tynan stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed once, sharply, and waved a hand in dismissal. “So ye saw a sun shade. Dawn brings them sometimes.”

“I know a sun shade when I see one, and this was no shade.”

“But ye know what light does to flesh.”

Darcel met his gaze. “Not to this woman. She walked unmolested in the light, with tanned brown skin, golden hair, and amber eyes.”

The hall erupted, some denials wrapped in humor, others edged with fear, and some outright hostile.

“Impossible.”
“Dawn Bringers are myth.”
“Next he’ll say she spoke to him.”

Tynan raised a hand, and the noise died down.

“Yer tired,” he said. “Boundary duty before dawn wears on the senses, and our eyes don’t work well in the light. Ye’ll stand down for two cycles and take a break.”

Something twisted low in his chest. What Tynan really meant was that Darcel hadn’t been the same since the death of his mate, Myra. Speculation that the loss had altered his mind permeated many Wardens.

And maybe it had. But he knew what he’d seen.

He ground his teeth. “I’m not mistaken.”

Tynan leaned closer, voice pitched low. “I suggest ye take the out.”

His tone made Darcel pause.

Darcel shifted one eye to look around the room, and noticed the Faithful with their wide hopeful eyes. Conversely, the few Veil Keepers present scowled at him, hostility evident.

Maybe Tynan wasn’t questioning him personally, and he should take the out.

But it felt like lying to claim it was a sun shade when he knew it hadn’t been one. And Gloamers swore by oath and truth.

He deliberated a second, but Tynan’s cold gaze made him relent. The Head Warden wanted to avoid a fight in the Watch Hall between the Faithful and the Veil Keepers. So he opted to say nothing rather than lie.

Tipping his head left to bid goodbye, he said, “A break may be welcome. The path keep ye, Tynan.”

Then he spun on his heel and stalked from the hall with his jaw clenched and his thoughts burning hotter than the sun.

Since the death of his mate, he’d made it his calling to protect people from the light and violent shadow-crawlers of the land.

He was certain of what he’d seen, and they should all know about it. But he also recognized what worried Tynan; another clash between the Faithful and the Veil Keepers was in nobody’s best interest.

So for now, he’d sit on it.

By the next cycle, the story had changed shape.

In the market square, carved from gray stone arches and icy ceilings over the hold, Darcel heard his own words returned to him, but altered.

“A golden goddess walking at dawn.”
“A figure with no shadow.”
“A herald of the ever light.”
“A cursed sign of the Second Unraveling.”

He paused at a stall to buy moon fruit and overheard the spice seller at the next stand whispering to a tight cluster of listeners, fingers twitching nervously over her wares, her hair and body covered in layers of robe, as was proper.

“The Light Cursed,” she murmured. “My grandmother warned me about the breaking. Said they’ll unravel the Gloamers, they will.”

“What breaking?” someone asked.

“The one where night dies and the ever light burns all.”

Murmurs spread. “The Second Unraveling.”

Darcel sighed. Leave it to women to create drama.

Some claimed the Dawn Bringers were remnants of an older world, when the sun ruled the entire cycle. Others insisted they weren’t women, but goddesses or spirits wearing flesh as a disguise. A few suggested they might simply be travelers from a distant land.

Those voices were drowned out quickly, since fear and intrigue always spoke louder than reason.

Darcel wasn’t sure what to think or what he believed. He passed through the halls of stone and ice like a ghost, cloak pulled tight, hood shadowing his eyes. No one confronted him directly, but eyes shifted to follow his movements wherever he went.

He didn’t blame them.

If he hadn’t seen her himself, if he hadn’t felt the warmth under his fingertips that wouldn’t wash away, he would’ve laughed or doubted too.

Darcel returned home to his small living chamber carved into the same gray stone as the rest of the hold, carved into the hill and containing one icy wall. It was quiet and empty since the death of his mate.

He made a simple meal of roasted roran meat and moon fruit and sat at his stone table to ruminate as he poked at the food. He hated eating alone now. It was always a reminder of what he’d lost.

If only he hadn’t let Myra go out foraging that day. Women should stay inside the compound, protected.

And now this new woman, standing in the open light. It was impossible.

But he wasn’t sunsick.

He wasn’t.

He knew what he’d seen.

He lay on his bed of furs to sleep, tossing and turning. Eventually he fell into a fitful rest, and he dreamed of standing at a bright gate with light that didn’t burn and created no fear.

It beckoned.

Three cycles later, Darcel returned to duty at the dawn boundary, and this time he had a plan.

He meant to look for the woman again, and if he saw her, he was going out into the light to meet her.

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Author Notes

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

In this world, due to the planet’s axis and its position relative to the sun, there are three distinct light zones - one always in sun, one nearly always in twilight, and one always in dark. In this chapter, we learn more about the society and culture (Gloamers) and their genetic adaptations to their world since they live in near eternal twilight. I wrote more about their unique genetics at my other Substack, The Bone Architect.

TOC | Chapter 2 | Back Cover

At the very edge of dawn, a knocking on the tall main double doors reverberated along the darkly enclosed stone square.
Not loud or urgent, as it ought to have been at dawn, with screams of terror to be let in. No. It was measured and precise, almost curious.

Darcel Nighthawk stilled mid-step, one hand still resting against the damp stone wall of the outer ring of the city compound of Stonehold. The air here always held the chill of night, even when the sky above the enclosed compound began its slow, reluctant lightening. Most preferred it that way.

Twilight was safe.
Shadows were known.
And the cold was comforting.

Another knock.

He turned, large silver eyes surveying the wooden doors that protected them from the sun.

All Stonehold citizens had already entered in preparation for the day, and no one visited the light boundary of the outer wall at this hour.

Nobody. Not ever.

Or no one that was sane, at least.

Because dawn was upon them. And while the day lasted but a brief time, sunlight was to be avoided at all costs.

The horizon beyond the thick outer ring of stone walls would be thinning now, from twilight to ash-gray to that pale, sickly silver that warned all Gloamers it was time to retreat to the shadows.

And the light here didn’t rise with warmth. It crept and exposed and killed.

Darcel took a step toward the large double doors, confusion and curiosity warring with the imminent threat of daylight.

The third knock came.

Again, it was calm, not the frantic pounding of a lost or late citizen or unknown traveler. And it wasn’t the scraping signal of one of the shadow-crawlers, with their ebony claws and teeth that killed and maimed, as they had his mate.

This was deliberate.

He hesitated one second more, and then duty to their Chief, hold and citizen outweighed concern. It always had. If someone needed help then he must aid them. Maybe someone had been late in returning, and if he didn’t let them in, they could die.

He strode to the threshold doors and started unlocking the many bolts securing them against the light.

One of the other Wardens, Nox, watched him from across the stone square, brows furrowed in bafflement, and called out a warning. “The light comes, Darc!”

Like Darcel, Nox had the mottled skin of the Gloamer race, a mixture of dark and blue striations or spots that mimicked moonlight through tree leaves at twilight, allowing Gloamers to meld and sink into shadows and hunt the dark lands with lethal accuracy.

Darcel nodded to Nox and pulled his sword free, in case it was a shadow-crawler outside the doors after all. It wasn’t unheard of for the beasts to prey on latecomers returning before the sun rose.

He pulled his hood on and his facemask up, both to protect his skin from the rising sun.

Then he opened the doors just enough to see beyond, silver eyes watering in the brightening sky.

But there was nothing outside.

No sounds or creatures or citizens. Just silence amidst the slow creeping bleed of dawn.

He ignored Nox’s repeated warnings, and stepped out.

There was the stone path leading into the black-wooded trees on the hill, the shaded copse outlined by the pink sky behind them as they stood in defiance of the coming light. There were also the broken gray stone pillars of an old bridge, the ancient arch built eons ago with its carved runes, and the icy ground that led toward the snowy hills past Stonehold.

There was nothing living outside the door, not right now.

All animals had burrowed into their underground dens. All birds had retreated to caves of ice or tree hollows.

Far away in the distance, he did see an adult shadow-crawler flying back to the Ironwood forest, no doubt to its den of thorns and bramble to hide from the sun.

Every living being was ensconced for the coming daylight.

Darcel stepped out further to get a better look, but his eyes watered as his pupils were unable to fully constrict for daytime vision.

His pulse raced as the rays of light broke over the distant hills. He couldn’t let the light touch him. But he had to make sure nobody was stuck outside.

He surveyed the environment, each eye swiveling to and fro in dis-conjugate scanning, able to see in two directions at once and searching for whoever had knocked.

Still, he saw nothing.

He frowned and crouched, pressing his fingers lightly to the ground. It was warm, as if it had been touched by something that didn’t fear the coming light. Small prints in the snow led away.

A flicker caught the edge of his vision.

Darcel looked up sharply, both silver eyes turning forward.

Far out, near where the pink horizon broke into shafts of golden light on a distant hill, a shape moved.

Tall. Slender. And unharmed by the light now spilling over its form.

Walking not away from the light, but within it.

Impossible!

Nothing could live in the light. It unraveled them to dust and smoke.

The figure turned just slightly, looking back at Stonehold’s doors, and for a single moment, Darcel thought he saw her face glowing in the morning light, encircled by a halo of golden braids, and striking amber eyes that were fixed on him.

She was calm and unafraid and observing him in return.

He blinked in utter confusion and shock.

He wanted to stand longer, stare longer, try to understand longer. But his heart raced as the rays of dawn spilled across the land, running toward him.

He sprinted back into the city compound and closed the doors just as the first light struck the compound wall.

Nox had run over, large ash-colored eyes wide, his short charcoal hair flopping. “Are ye completely sunsick?”

Darcel leaned on the main door, forehead pressed to the ebony wood, trying to calm his breathing. “You didn’t hear the knock?”

Nox’s black brows furrowed again. “What knock? Did one of them foragers or hunters come late? Well, they’ll be ash now.”

Darcel faced Nox. “No. It wasn’t a Gloamer. It was…”

He paused. Because Nox wasn’t going to believe him.

Even so, Darcel knew what he’d seen, even if he’d never seen one before. Many a myth, story, and legend abounded about them.

Nox stepped closer, worry edging his dark features. “Yer as pale as a light-shade. What did ye see? A shadow-crawler?”

Darcel ran a hand down his face. “No. I saw a Dawn Bringer.”

Nox went stone still. “That’s not possible.”

“She had amber eyes, she did. So I tell ye true, that’s what I saw.”

And if myth and legend and the Faithful were all not mistaken, it would herald the beginning of the Second Unraveling.

TOC | Chapter 2 | Back Cover

Author Notes

Images from Midjourney.

This is also being published at Royal Road.

In this chapter we are introduced to the world Darcel lives in. In this world, due to the planet’s axis and its position relative to the sun, there are three distinct light zones. One part of the world is always in sunlight, one exists in near eternal twilight, and the third lies in eternal, icy darkness. I wrote more about the world building for this story, at my other Substack, The Bone Architect.

Novella

Table of Contents

• Chapter 1: Sighting

• Chapter 2: Rumors

• Chapter 3: Into the Sun

• Chapter 4: Light Walkers

• Chapter 5: Library

• Chapter 6: Factions

• Chapter 7: Ironwood Forest

• Chapter 8: Ash and Eggs

This book is being ‘serial published’. A new chapter comes out at Dawn each Sunday. This page will be updated as new Chapters are added.

Back Cover

They say nothing survives the light. They are wrong.

In a world dominated by near eternal twilight, Darcel Kerrigan, a warrior of shadow and ash, witnesses the impossible: women who bond dragons and walk freely in deadly sunlight. Their arrival sparks fear and unrest among the Gloam Dwellers, and Darcel sets out to uncover the truth about the Dawn Bringers.

But will he succeed when religious zealots, a defiant king, and the power of sunlight rise to stop him? Not to mention angry dragons.

Because the truth is more dangerous than myth. As ancient balances begin to reform and the boundary between shadow and morning thins, Darcel is forced to confront a choice that will change not only his fate, but the fate of his people and dragons.

Light is not mercy. It is transformation. And it never comes without cost.

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