Chapter 2

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Her dusky eyes were unfocused as she stared out from the tower window. A book with yellowing pages rested in her paws. It was open, but her attention was elsewhere. The first rays of the early morning sun had crept high enough to spill across the table where she sat, making the scattered collection of books appear as a strange city of teetering buildings.

She hadn't realized how much time had escaped her until now, and felt dismayed as the first throes of fatigue afflicted her. Wearily, she shut the book before her and rubbed a paw across her spotted face.

When she heard the library door open noisily and echo from the vaulted ceiling, she started. But as she turned towards the disturbance, she saw that it was only Runemaster Loben, her good colleague and mentor.

He strode towards her, the soft sounds of his robes and heavy hooves following in his wake.

“Kesmet,” he began, and she knew from his tone that he was worried, “I should've known you'd be here; I've been looking for you.”

A tired smile stretched across Kesmet's muzzle. She studied the fine lines etched into Loben's equine face. “You should know me by now, friend,” she said, “and you should know not to worry. It doesn't become you.”

“How can I not worry,” Loben snorted. “You've been at this from the beginning, and it's finally starting to take its toll on you. You need rest.”

Kesmet closed her eyes, becoming irritated. “How can I rest, when thousands are dying—have already died?” her throat caught as she paused, “Janril--”

“Janril,” Loben interrupted, “would be proud of you for all the progress you've made. But I very much doubt he'd want you running yourself into the ground. How would that benefit anyone?”

“I...” Kesmet began, but she sighed and at last relented. “I just want for all this to end. I'm so very tired...”

Before she could speak another word, Loben gently took her arm and helped her to her feet. She didn't have the strength to protest as he led her from the great library.

“I think I've found a way,” she stated tiredly, “but I don't think you'll like it.”

Loben glanced at her. “At this point, I don't think we have the luxury of being choosy. You can explain it to me after you've had some rest.”

Kesmet nodded against his muscled arm gratefully as they walked down the corridor. It seemed a great deal of time passed before they finally reached her quarters.

“You are such a dear friend to me, Loben” she said as she opened the double-doors to her room. “I'm not sure I would've had the perseverance to do any of this on my own without you.”

Loben smiled and touched her shoulder. “You've had the strength in you all along. You just needed a little push. Get some sleep. I want to know everything you've discovered afterwords.”

“Of course,” Kesmet said with a small thankful smile of her own.

Loben nodded curtly and took his leave. Shutting the doors to her room, Kesmet turned and eyed her canopied bed. She couldn't remember it ever looking so inviting as she disrobed. With her feline ears and striped tail drooping, she climbed into bed and was asleep moments after her head touched the pillow.

* * *


The plague had been sudden and almost completely indiscriminate. It devastated kingdoms and nations all across the Chamrien continent with a tenacity of historic proportions. As quickly as it had spread, it was soon determined that the epidemic was magic-wrought. Victims not only shared similar afflictions—horrible boils, peeling flesh and blood-filled lungs—but all could be found bearing a peculiar mark on their person.

The mark was a rune, but one of such design that not even the greatest of Runemasters could decipher its meaning or origins. Even more curious was the fact that, in the beginning, it seemed not to affect magic-born. In their haste and desperation, Runemasters, Mages and Shaman tried to absorb the malevolent spell from its victims. With what little knowledge they had gleaned from studying the contagion, they believed this would counter the spell and end its path of death. But these magic-born were soon infected by the spell, themselves, and died alongside those they had tried to save.

Janril, Rune Acolyte to High Runemaster Loben, was among the many who had tried to reverse the spell by absorbing it with his own magic. Rune Acolyte Kesmet, his lover, stayed by his side until his final breath.

Three years later, even after other magic-born had shut themselves from the rest of the dying world, Kesmet was determined to discover the birthplace of the deathly rune, and end its reign of fear and suffering.