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Prologue: This Reader Becomes A Hero
Chapter 1: Phyrre and the Ice Dragon

I knew my weekend was shot the minute I opened the door to find the wizard standing on my doorstep. I mean, it wasn’t like he was the sort that just stopped round for a cuppa and a brief chat.

If we’re honest, I would’ve just slammed the door in his face if he did. I’m still considering doing that, except he’s stuck his foot in the door, like he can read my thoughts. I might still and just call it collateral damage.

“Wait! I have a quest for you!” the wizard insists.

“No thanks. We’re good.”

“What do you mean no thanks? You answered the call!”

“Yeeeeah, but I wouldn’t have if I’d known it was a telemarketer.” Or, worse, a wizard who threatened my life on a regular basis, all for the sake of becoming a hero. As if that’s what people want to be.

“Are you sure you don’t want this quest?” The wizard waves a quest scroll in my face and I roll my eyes.

“Yup, pretty sure. Carl and I are doing great here. Got a little fire going in the hearth against the cold. Seems rude to leave after Carl’s so thoughtfully made us hot chocolate.”

“Well, that seems like a shame, given the world this quest requires you to visit. I thought for sure you’d jump on the chance to visit Grimwytch.”

I pause. The name does sound pretty darn awesome. Maybe just a peek …

“No. Nope. Definitely not interested.” Knowing the wizard, it was probably a misnomer. Like taking a vacation to Greenland and packing all manner of swimsuits and shorts. I’d probably step through the portal and encounter rainbows and fields of flowers to frolic through. Just the thought makes me shiver. Pass.

The wizard sighs as he tucks the scroll back into his robe. “Shame. You were uniquely qualified for this one, too, as it requires the retrieval of a book.”

My attention is piqued, as I suspect he intended. Darn the librarian in me. It’s so hard to smother to instinct.

“What … kind of book?” Before he can get the wrong impression, I hastily add, “Just out of curiosity, not because I actually care in the least bit about your stupid quest.”

Smooth. Real smooth. I’m sure that convinced him.

“Oh, of course. It’s a rather special book. It’s called The Book of Kindly Deaths.”

“Deaths?”

“Sure. Not the ‘dies of old age surrounded by loved ones’ nonsense, either. But right, proper deaths. Though, if I’m honest, it’d probably be more accurate to call it The Book of Deadly Beings. The other one sounds a bit too … optimistic, shall we say.”

“Hypothetically, if I accept this quest … do I get to stab things?”

The wizard snorts. “With what? Carl?”

I huff. “I’ll have you know, Carl has a rather cutting wit.” I decide not to mention the knife I’ve hidden in my boot, lest it be considered cheating.

Hey, I wasn’t told I couldn’t have other weapons. I was just told the wizard provided me one.

The wizard waves off the comment. “Yeah, sure, whatever. They’ll likely try to stab you first, so I suppose it’s fair play. Assuming you don’t get caught, at which point the law looks rather dimly on murder and would likely result in you being hung.”

“Stab people. Recover a book. Don’t get caught. Don’t die. Sounds like a manageable job, eh, Carl? You’ve got yourself a hero, Khow. Now, how do I get to Grimwytch?”

I realize, as I trudge the gloomy streets in Grimwytch, that I should’ve asked more questions. Again. I just got so excited about the prospect of stabbing things and hunting for books that I couldn’t help myself.

There’s no sun, apparently … or if it is, it’s taken one heck of a vacation. Dark all the time, if I understand things correctly. Sure, it makes the “don’t get caught” part of the mission a bit easier. It makes the “don’t die” part a bit harder, though.

Do they build statues as a memorial for heroes that trip and die on a quest? Will they still sing songs of my heroic deeds? Maybe just … don’t let the wizard write them.

As I pass an alley, an old man lunges at me, his eyes white and easy to see, even in the gloom. He looks ancient, like he should’ve died just out of spite decades ago, with deep gouges sunk into his skin from the hands of time. “New blood for old bones!” he shrieks as he leaps at me, grinning in a way that reveals a set of wicked fangs.

“Well, what do you say, Carl? Do I get to use my Shiny Pointy?” I frown at his response, but issue a reluctant sigh anyway. “No, I suppose you’re right. It’s a bit early in our quest to start with that. Might as well pace myself.”

The vympaar—for that’s exactly what it is … the teeth are a bit of a dead giveaway, forgive the pun—lunges at me again.

“Go, Grave Stones,” I say, unceremoniously shoving one into his mouth. One of his teeth catches my arm as I pull my hand out, but it’s just a small cut. More than I can say for him. He immediately starts choking and grabs at his throat.

“Sergio has a bit of a thing for garlic,” I say in way of explanation, offering an apologetic shrug. “We’ve tried to break him of it, but … well, what can I say? He makes some mean Italian food, and we’d probably starve without his cooking, so we’ve just sort of learned to live with the garlic smell.”

I pause as the vympaar collapses weakly on the ground. “Huh. Which is more than I can say for you, I guess.” I nudge the body with my toe, and it twitches a few times before stilling. I shrug and retrieve Sergio, tucking him safely back in my pocket as I continue down the street.

I’m no stranger to finding lost books. As Khow said, I’m uniquely qualified for this job. I spend most of my days organizing, reorganizing, and hunting day stray books as a librarian. Although, in my day job, there’s less of a chance of dying, in general. Also, monsters tend not to crawl out of the books I normally shelve. More’s the pity.

Admittedly, I hadn’t expected the quest to go so smoothly. Well, if you would consider leaving a trail of bodies behind me as “going smoothly.” Hidden, of course. I’m not dumb enough to leave them out in the open. Give me some credit. Besides, it’s all Carl’s fault. Out of control, that one.

The book had been stolen, which may be no surprise since this is a retrieval mission. That seemed like a problem on the surface when I started out, but it seems to have resolved itself nicely. The thief is on the ground, bleeding out from several dozen knife wounds.

Don’t panic! The book’s safe. Someone had the forethought to move the book away from the splatter zone, and far enough so the creeping puddle of red won’t reach it. Phew. Talk about being relieved.

The book in question is certainly as old as one might assume. The edges are yellowing nicely, but the cover is made of a sturdy leather, decorated in a way that lends it a certain air. You know, just in case someone doubted its importance.

I reach down and safely procure the book, snapping it closed again and tucking it under my arm.

“I didn’t even get to stab anyone,” I whine at Carl, who seems rather coldly apathetic. I glance over at the body. Well, at least someone got to have a little fun.

Mission successful! Gee, that seems a bit easy, right?

One problem: there’s a bloody incessant scratching echoing around the alley.

It seems to be coming from everywhere at once. Shadows move across the walls of the alley, reaching toward me with twig-like fingers. They look wispy, stretching out in dark tendrils, but that tapping suggests they have some amount of physical presence. Probably.

Either that or I’ve officially lost it. Probably should’ve let me stab someone, for my own well-being.

A tendril reached my foot and began scratching. Pain erupted through me, along with the inexplicable feeling that my foot was a little less here than it used to be. Where else it would be, I don’t know, but it definitely seemed a little less real than it had been. Doesn’t seem like that’s a good sign.

I decide not to let the tendrils get too close, which seems like a great decision. The only problem is I’m not sure how. Stabbing seems like it wouldn’t be as effective as I’d like, which is rather unfortunate. I shove my hands in my pockets, taking stock of my tools. My hand scrapes against something rough, and triumphantly, I pull Fred out and hold him aloft. Not the brightest of the Grave Stones, I’ll admit, but he’ll do in a pinch.

I pull the book back out and send up a quick prayer of forgiveness to the Muses. With profuse apologies, I yank out the first page. Thankfully, it’s blank, but that doesn’t lessen the betrayal.

I crouch and grab my knife from my boot. Not quite how I intended to use it—saying I’m disappointed is putting it mildly—but at least it is getting used. It takes a few tries striking the two together, but finally a spark emerges, lapping eagerly at the page. The two get on like … well, like paper and a spark. Duh.

Fire flares, and the creatures retreat back from the light. Not the smoothest escape ever, but it’ll do.

“I still didn’t get to stab anything,” I grumble to Carl as I hastily exit the alley and make my way back to the portal.

Quest Completed!

Read the book that’s been on your shelf the longest.

★★★★☆

This book was so much fun! It was dark and creepy in all the right ways, and the world of Grimwytch is absolutely chilling! But also in a good way. Also the sort of place I don’t think I’d care to visit, thank you very much.

The story is really a story within a story, where the main character discovers the Book of Kindly Deaths and begins to read it, only to discover that the horrifying stories she’s reading may not be as made-up as she originally thought. I absolutely loved reading the stories from the book. Eliza as a character was kind of meh for me, but there were so many other fabulous characters that it made up for her.

Unfortunately, this book is a standalone. I really would’ve loved more from this world and Eliza’s upcoming adventures! Maybe one day. Either way, this is an author I’ll definitely be checking out more from, and I’m not sure why the heck I waited so long to pick up this one in the first place!

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