According to the Dragon Council Anabathmis Village was where the attacks had likely begun, but no one had explained to Dover why this was the case. From what Dover had seen, aside from being isolationist, it was a fairly normal village.

  Since they had left for the village directly from the conference the party was largely unchanged, only Fawn staying behind in Arcanium Terra for safety. The remaining six of them, Driks, Dover, Cynder, Sophia and the two guards, traveled by carriage along the trade road to the old trading post. After resting there a night, they rented a stable for storage and traveled the rest of the way on foot. Driks had protested, not wanting to walk when they had horses, but Dover refused to guide them otherwise. He felt that using the wagon, or even horses, would have required them to make a path to the village. Even if it was long since abandoned he wanted to respect their wish for privacy and protect what remained from looting.

  They made good timing and soon found themselves silently standing before what remained of the village’s entrance. The years of neglect had not been kind to the structures, leaving the surrounding wall in tatters and overgrown. The gate had long since rusted off the hinges and fallen to the ground.

  As they looked at the ruined gate Driks somberly asked “How well did you know the villagers?”

  “Not very,” Dover replied, a hint of sadness apparent in his normally gruff tone. "They didn’t even remember my name."

  “Huh.” Driks looked at him curiously, knowing that Dover would continue when he was ready.

  “Yeah, they kept calling me The Reaper. Probably cuz I helped so much with the harvest.”

  “Hmmm,” Driks briefly considering what to say before continuing. “Are you at all familiar with their faith?”

  “What the hell ya askin’ that for?” Dover looked at Driks annoyed. “When have I given a damn about any of that religious bull? From what I saw, they had their own beliefs. I’m just glad they weren’t followers of the useless Sentinel Church. Knowin’ that was enough fer me.”

  Driks quietly laughed. “You are going to love why they called you d’Ryepre then.” When he spoke he emphasized the D sound in the name.

  Arching an eyebrow Dover glared at Driks, disliking the topic. Despite that, the way he pronounced the name was uncomfortably familiar. Cynder had a clear look of recognition in her eyes as well.

  Savoring the moment Driks revealed the truth. “The people of Anabathmis Village were Dragon worshipers.” Pausing for dramatic effect, he carefully pronounced the name again as he continued. “The dragon d’Ryepre was the one who founded their village.” Unable to restrain himself any longer his laughter echoed through the otherwise still wilderness. Struggling to catch his breath he gasped out the rest of his thought. "They either believed you were their founder reborn or the dragon himself returning centuries later!"

  Dover released a drawn out sigh as he shook his head at Driks. “Calm down Driks, you’ll wake the dead...”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Strangely that immediately silenced Driks as he took a sharp intake of breath. “Damn. That might be a problem.”

  His words drew everyone’s attention and the previous levity instantly vanished. Dover looked at him with a mix of disbelief and reluctant acceptance, Sophia and the guards seemed completely baffled and Cynder's eyes had an unhappy look of recognition.

  "We have to enter their catacombs." Exhaling through his teeth he revealed the worst part, "once there attempting to wake the dead may be the best way to discover what happened here."

  “Great. Sounds like a blast. They ain’t got a cemetery so only one place that can be... This way...” Dover grumbled as he gestured towards the center of the village.

  Dover set off at a rapid pace along the overgrown roads, moving naturally through the heavy underbrush covering the path. The rest of the group struggled to keep up and despite the short distance were winded by the time they reached their destination, the central meeting house. As the largest structure in the village, which was also utilized as a church, it was the most logical location for the entrance to the catacombs.

  At two stories its steeply pitched roof towered over the other ruined buildings. It didn't take long for the whole building to be clearly visible when they approached. Though simple in design, a rectangle with a large door and numerous windows along the sides, no effort had been spared in its construction. Its stone foundation was so carefully fitted and sealed that even the rampant undergrowth couldn't crack it. At a glance one might think it was carved from the earth, or crafted using magic, rather than painstakingly assembled. The wood used had been soaked in wax making it impervious to rain. If it weren't for the door having fallen off its hinges and the shattered windows a person might think it was still inhabited.

  Entering through the broken door, the inside was in fairly good shape as well. Dover had given it a cursory look on discovering the village abandoned, but there had been no sign of the villages or any violence so he had quickly moved on. The interior hadn’t changed much from what he remembered. The floor was covered with debris and various detritus brought in by animals or the wind, and water was pooling along the walls.

  The bulk of the building was a single room with an altar in the center surrounded by wooden benches. They seemed untouched by time. There was nothing else in the room, so they headed to the private reliquary. The moisture had caused the door to swell, making it stick in the frame. With a little muscle, and a whispered apology under his breath, Dover pried it free. Opening the door released long trapped air, surrounding the group with an earthy and stale odor.

  While the rest of the building had ample light from the exterior windows, this room was fully enclosed and pitch black. Due to the passage of time the lanterns used by the priest had long since rusted away and even the candles had melted and deformed, making them unusable.

  Cynder quickly created a magical orb of light so they could look around. The room looked like a traditional office, with a sturdy desk, shelves with books, and cabinets for various relics. Nothing seemed out of place, and there was nothing which would explain the earthy smell, which, as all adventurers know, meant there was likely a hidden underground passage.

  It was quick work to find the trapdoor, simply tapping each piece of flooring was enough to identify the hollow spot. Opening it released a musty spell and revealed an ancient stairway. Like the foundation the passage was smooth rock, though this was natural as opposed to something man made. The only signs of human craftsmanship were the steps carved into the stone. The village was likely founded around this natural cavern.

  “Driks, you can have the honor?” Dover gestured for him to go first. After all, Driks apparently knew about this village and he would likely survive any traps he triggered.