Only Skeletons Remain

Prologue: The Escape

1982

The book shelves towered up to the ceiling of the DEMA Library. Within the library lived a very interesting person. The Lorekeeper. The Lorekeeper was responsible for recording all of the legends and events that happen within the city of DEMA. It was a generational role, something passed down to the firstborn of every generation. The Lorekeeper walked through the aisles, brushing his hand over the books that lay within the library. So many books... so many legends were recorded. It was never ending.

The Lorekeeper made his way to the large window in the library, where his desk was shrouded in natural light. He looked down at his book of events. Every Lorekeeper was given a book of events they were responsible for. They were to guard it with their lives. As the Lorekeeper flipped through the book, recounting the events, when he heard the large wooden doors swing open. He looked up, seeing the familiar orange and white furred figure.

"What can I do for you?" The Lorekeeper asked, taken by surprise by the mass of fur's quickness as it advanced towards him.

"Listen to me carefully, Lorekeeper." The mass of orange and white fur swirled around him, brushing his tail against the Lorekeeper's skin.

The Lorekeeper watched as the mass of fur came face-to-face to him. The two stared at each other. The Lorekeeper furrowed his brow, staring into the mass of fur's yellow eyes.

"What do you need me to do, Keons?" The Lorekeeper asked.

"There is a Great War coming. One that we might not be able to win. The legends are coming to pass, and we must be ready to fight." The desperation in Keons' eyes scared the Lorekeeper. He had never seen him this panicked.

"What can we do to prevent it? Is there anything we can do?"

"This has been coming for many generations. It will happen in your lifetime, but you will not fight in it. Your kin will."

The Lorekeeper's eyes widened. His kin? He had no children yet... He was only eighteen. Was he destined to have children? Keons uncoiled himself from the Lorekeeper's body, and he got a good look at the bishop. The longer one stayed in DEMA, the more morphed and mutated they got. Keons had spent countless years, and he now looked like a long tiger with a snake-like tail. The bishop slithered towards him, his heavy paws thudding across the wooden floor. There was an intensity in his eyes the Lorekeeper hadn't seen before. Not since his last escape attempt.

"There will be Three, kin of your kin, who hold the power to reshape the world and defy the shadows." Keons told him, his eyes glowing a bright yellow.

"Keons, I don't understand what's going on. I don't even have a girlfriend. Kin? As in kids?" The Lorekeeper tilted his head.

Keons' pelt bristled. "Listen to my words, Clancy, for these are the words you will pass on to the future generations."

As quickly as the bishop appeared, he was gone, slithering down the halls, leaving the confused Lorekeeper by himself in the library. The Lorekeeper didn't understand the prophecy he had been given. It wasn't often the bishops graced them with their presence, let alone gave them a prophecy. The Lorekeeper sat down at his desk, once again flipping through the book. He let out a soft sigh. He would have to decipher it another day.

He closed the book, moving to place it into the drawer in his desk. He locked the drawer, and he heaved a sigh. He then turned to look out the window, staring out at the stone wall of DEMA. All these years of watching horrors happen, injustices unstopped, the Lorekeeper knew what he had to do. He had to escape. He had been born and raised in DEMA, and he knew every inch of the city. That included its escape routes too. 

He would have to do it tonight. There was an execution happening tonight. Another Bandito found within the walls of DEMA. They would be busy with that. Lorekeepers weren't required to attend, as they had... bigger... priorities to handle within the city. That's what he would do. Everyone would be distracted. He decided to go to his bedroom in the top level of the library, and when he shut the door, he pulled off his maroon red cloak, hanging it on the coat rack near the door. He hated wearing that thing.

The Lorekeeper watched as the sun began to dip closer to the horizon. He didn't know how he'd get past the sentinels guarding the walls but also the dragon that snatched up any escapees or intruders. It would be a risk getting to the tunnel, but if he could just make it to the manhole, he'd be home free. He looked down at the desk in his room, seeing the artifacts he had collected. He had a map of the continent of Trench, with every point of interest mapped out. He rolled up the map, gently placing it into a backpack.

It was just about sunset when the Lorekeeper finished packing his backpack. It would have everything he needed for the journey to the Bandito camp. He only prayed they'd accept him. As he stepped out of the room, he gave the library one last look over. He would miss the library most of all. When he stepped out, he could hear the roaring of citizens below him. The execution was happening.

"May you find peace in whatever afterlife you find." The Lorekeeper spoke the native language of the bishops: Echolalia.

Picking up the pace, he began to navigate the stone halls of DEMA, slipping out of a window and beginning to climb down the tower. His foot slipped, and he inhaled sharply, finding his foothold before he continued down. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. He dropped down a few feet, brushing himself off. The light from the neon gravestones caused him to squint his eyes a bit, but he kept pushing through.

He made his way through the Neon Graveyard, and he found himself walking down the empty streets of what was known as the Artisan District. It was where the blacksmiths, weavers, and the other artisans worked and practiced their craft. Usually, it was bustling, but the Lorekeeper found it eerily quiet. He pulled open a manhole cover, crawling down the ladder before pulling it over the hole again. He dropped down into the dirty water, wrinkling his nose. He remembered the poor souls who had been forced to work down here as punishment.

He began to walk through the tunnels, having mapped out where he needed to go, and without much problem, he was met by the lush greenery of the continent of Trench. He had made it past the city walls, but there was little to no cover between the walls and where he needed to go. If he could get to the mountains off in the distance, he'd be better off.

"Well... I made it this far. Past the point of no return." The Lorekeeper pulled up his hood. He stepped out into the lush greenery, and he began walking, never looking back once.