The Lost Athenaeum: Mythera Chronicles

By K.C. Auburn

When a timorous thief has a vision of a dark entity swallowing her estranged brother, Caden, she must venture to find stability in her powers to save her only remaining family. Aylith is the Eruanna, protector of the realm, but her past leaves her haunted and unwilling to use her gifts. With her only tether to this world threatened, she will reluctantly follow the guidance of a mysterious woman, Lusha, to the lost Athenaeum in search of answers. Yet Lusha is not all that she claims to be. Her calm exterior shrouds the Order's will that she intends to carry out, a secret society that puppets the lands. Lusha needs to gain Aylith's trust in order to fulfill her duties. With Aylith's growing strength, she may soon be able to cleave the world of the encroaching darkness.

Caden discovers his ties to his lost family and leaves home in secret. With the telling's of strange dreams, he journeys to the Athenaeum in search of his blood sister. He and his closest friend, Bradyn, find themselves endangered in the wilds and unprepared. With the help of a dark rogue, the boys will blossom in confidence and grow into the men they believe themselves to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.C. Auburn
• Release date: Mar 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201755867

K.C. Auburn

K.C. Auburn is a first-time author that began the Mythera Chronicles in middle school, but it soon fell away from attention. In the final year of high school, Brianna, K.C.’s older sister, learned about the fantasy trilogy. Brianna encouraged K.C. to write the books and that she would help out as the editor. The pair then began excitedly trading the world back and forth. Upon Brianna’s passing, K.C. took a break from their story. After coming to terms with Brianna’s death, Mythera’s journey continued. Less than a year after writing again, the series was finished and ready to be shared with the world. The hope is that everyone who reads this story will feel Brianna’s presence in the text. Now K.C. writes on rainy days while drinking a cup of tea at home in Raleigh, NC with the family pup nearby. Nice and Cozy.

Book preview

For Brianna

To my wonderful older sister, 

Thank you for encouraging me to continue my story from middle school, and always believing that my writing was achievable. Your way of writing was always so much better than mine, and I tried to emulate your abilities in the way I told the story. I miss you every day, and after all this time, I finally finished our book series. I just wish you were here to read it before I send it out into the world. I pray that it’s everything that we hoped it would be.  I’m sorry it took me so long to finish it, but for a while, it was too painful to even look at it. Yet here it is, I hope that I’ve made you proud. I will see you again someday Brii.

With all my love,

K.C.

Special Thanks

My sincerest gratitude to all the people that supported me in finishing my book series. A special thanks to my younger sister, Ashley, and her encouragement. Thank you for being one of my editors and my biggest supporter. Thank you to Michelle, who read my story from start to finish in a month for editing purposes. You were a huge help. Thank you to my friends and family that wanted to be the first to read my story and giving me assurance that I did well. I can't express to you how much it means to me that I finally finished it. I know Brianna is appreciative of your belief in my writing and she’s happy to finally see it complete. You all mean the world to me.

Warmly,

K.C.

Map Description automatically generatedA picture containing text, map, book Description automatically generated

Name Pronunciation

Aylith  AY-lith

Lusha  LOO-sha

Caden  CAI-den

Bradyn  BRA- din

Ahriman Ah-RI-mon

Hersium Hair-SEE-um

Marloc  MAR-lock

Eruanna Eh-RON-a

Morhach Mor-ACH

Iarann  I-ARN

Athenaeum A-thuh-nee-um

Guide

1The Crescent Thief .................................................7

2 An Apothecary’s Apprentice .......................................60

3 The Whispering Road.............................................103

4 The Whispering Wood................................................144

5 Search for Truth..................................................190

6 A silent parting....................................................221

7 Tharbael...........................................................258

8 The Maelstrom River..................................................305

9 The Wilds..........................................................339

10 Null...............................................................367

11 The Athenaeum..................................................393

1

The Crescent Thief

She was first sighted by the light of a crescent moon.

BOOM! A crackle of dry thunder rolled over the lands. The Earth was shrouded in darkness. A cool autumn breeze swept over the trees. The waning moon peered out from behind scattered clouds as they thickened in the blackened sky. Tendrils of its silvery light caressed the countryside below, illuminating everything it touched. All was kissed by its rays except for a figure that skulked through the night, hungering for prey.

The silver beams washed over the city of Wihlmsted's stone buildings and trickled down the mixture of thatch and shingled roofs. The streets were mostly dirt and a few cobbled with stone. Autumn had begun to stir, and the leaves blossomed in riots of reds, oranges, and yellows. The nightlife had started to recede, and the roads were quiet. Within all this contrasting dark and light, the figure lurked in the shadows. It was at the edge of Wihlmsted, hovering just beyond the sight of the night watchmen.

The silhouette glided smoothly across the dirt roads, examining each home for even the slightest possibility of entry. The figure stepped gingerly around a corner. The moonlight swept across the individual, revealing it to be a young woman. She lifted the hood of her cloak from over her deep brown eyes, which she often shielded. Her straight chestnut brown hair fell past her shoulders and down her back. As she selected a house, the fire from a nearby lamppost captured the sliver of gold and green in her right eye that just barely lined her iris, it glowed.

That's the one. She whispered.

She nimbly positioned herself on a crate near the windows' edge dipping back into the darkness. Her fingers curled around the ledge and she gracefully slid her foot into a nook in the stone wall. She leaned her upper body against the thick sill and gently slid a pick through a slot in the shutters. With precision that came from years of practice, she picked the lock on the window, letting it swing open and invite her inside. The moonlight spilled into the room, silhouetting her figure across the floor.

Sliding easily into the dwelling, the young woman crouched down observing the layout of the den. The fire was dying in the stone hearth. The embers glowed warmly and just bright enough to cast dark shadows across the room. Her eyes scanned the area, adjusting to the change in light. They glinted when she spotted a big wooden table set against the far wall. She stood upright and slowly approached the slab. She grabbed a chunk of bread and slipped it into the satchel on her hip. She then nibbled on a bit of cheese from the counter.

She eyed the soup, just off the hearth. She collected a small bowl and dipped into the cauldron. It was a scant amount but could prove to be filling. She quickly downed the rest of the stew and sighed with satisfaction. Her hunger satiated. She began to rummage through the home, occasionally glancing at the doors leading to other parts of the house. She pocketed small items, leaving behind the presence of tampering. As she considered her options, the choice was made for her the moment her eyes came to rest on the object nestled in the hallway.

A trunk sat out of the way, in a corner, at the furthest end of the house near the back door. She cautiously crept towards the chest. A flicker of movement caught her eye just beyond. She held her breath as she realized what she'd seen was the flick of a sleeping dog's tail. It was slumbering under a sitting chair at the edge of the main gathering place. The small mutt raised its head and yawned with a whimper and a stretch, which revealed it from under the seat.

She advanced quietly and placed a reassuring hand on its head. Hush now. Her voice hummed tenderly.

The dog licked her palm as if it had known her and she gave a joyful smile. She stroked it gently, lulling it back to sleep. She remembered the dogs in her village and how she would visit them to play. Its deep brown coat was soft and warm. Its dark brown eyes were heavy, and its tail wagged lazily as she held the creature's face in her hands. She massaged its ears in her fingers. The pup yawned once more then laid to rest again. The young woman relished in the moment.

She continued to the chest and knelt in front of its old wooden frame. She analyzed the lock. She looked back to the dog and it curled tightly under the chair edge. She turned to the chest again. Her slender hand pulled out her pick and pension wrench from a snug holder on the wrist of her glove. She often thought of buying full gloves to keep her fingers warm, yet it would interfere with her workings. She pushed the wrench into the slot and applied pressure until she heard a small click. Then the slim and fragile pick was placed strategically in the lock until it hit the tumblers. She had grown accustomed to using this pick but may have chosen another if she had remembered that it was brittle with age. She then began gently turning the pick feeling for the familiar click of a tumbler.

A shuffling from behind the nearby door grabbed her attention. A wave of panic came over her, the number of watchmen in this town was beyond the count. She recognized that it was more likely that she would be captured than for her to escape. Her hand shifted to the left. Clink! The lock jammed, and the pick snapped in two. A chill went up her spine as a shadow appeared under the door. She quickly grabbed her wrench and half the broken pick and jumped backward preparing to swing herself out the window.

In her moment of haste, she had forgotten the slumbering hound. As she quickly moved back, her heel came down on the dog's tail causing it to yelp loudly in pain. The squealing dog knocked over the chair and skirted away. The young woman tripped backward. She caught herself and barreled towards the window.

The door to the back of the house swung open and a half-dazed man came stumbling into the room yelling. Who goes there?

All he saw was a cloaked figure drop from his window and his belongings disarranged. He ran to the window and leaned out, furiously screaming into the darkness. Crescent Thief! Iarann will find you!

The town guards searched everywhere that night, but the girl in the hood was gone. She passed soundlessly by site after site of her previous conquests. She ran so fast her feet were barely touching the ground. The voice of the enraged citizen echoed through the streets. She did not have to imagine how much she was hated just for trying to survive. She would hide in the shadows until daybreak, almost wishing that they knew her by name, Aylith Wulfrin.

❖❖❖

Her mind was filled with strange faces that night. Blonde hair flitted through her sight. Something was over her while she slept. The same feeling that she had before coming to the city. It was drawing her in. Aylith could feel a presence in the dark of her dreams. She could faintly make out a voice. The voice was muffled but Aylith was able to discern a few cloudy words, it must end-.

A feeling of gravity came over her and she jerked awake. Her eyes darted around, securing herself. She calmed her breathing. There seemed to be nothing. Aylith tried to recall the face she had seen but it quickly faded from memory. After some time listening to the sounds around her, she readjusted in her space. She drifted into sleep once more.

She emerged the following morning when the townsfolk were buzzing through the market. She watched as they bought fresh bread and cheese. They traded their goods with one another. Aylith only wished she could have such a luxury, something to offer. As she walked through the streets, surrounded by the very people who despised her, a wanted poster drew her eyes. She stopped to look at the wrinkled parchment.

The picture was of mediocre quality, a hooded face only exposing a sly grin and long hair flowing from the darkness. She scoffed at the portrayal. She felt wronged by how the guards perceived her. They had never wanted to help her when she was a young girl on the streets, yet they condemned her for taking her life into her own hands, stealing little to survive. She kept her distance, for them. She kept herself secret, for them.

Below the drawing, in crimson letters, was 'Wanted: The Crescent Thief' and then in larger bold letters beneath read 'REWARD'. The browning paper was marked with the royal seal of a local lord. A frown etched itself onto her face. If she walked openly among them, sooner or later someone would get hurt, as they always did. Hatred was her reward for their protection. If she lost control of her power, it could kill them. She thought long about the world around her and the fragility of her suppression. Aylith ruminated on her upcoming journey home, yet the threat of her impending imprisonment was not far from her mind. She would venture past the village of Braedon just outside the city of Wihlmsted, cities populated by humans under the rule of the monarch King Hersium.

His symbol was the fabled silver wolf. The wolf was a long-standing myth. It was said to appear at the edge of the forests of the Iron Mountains at the turn of each age. The beast would bless the lands and fill the waters with fish. Time had long passed since the silver wolf appeared and it once again faded from public memory. Hersium's lordship stretched further past the Blue Mountains and down south to the edge of the Golden Plains of Ranemore, overseen by Lord Adler and his kin, Lord Galen.

The two lands had been united for hundreds of years, giving lots of trade between its people. The people of the plains were strong and hardy. Their cultural history was rich in appreciation for animals and the carving of large vessels to sail down the rivers to the sea. They paid respects to their sprawling hills, wide spaces, and rivers through ceremony. The Great Revna or raven was the symbol of their land, said to give great speed to their ships and travels. The Great Revna and the Silver Wolf had been in arms together long ago. They were united, stronger than the bond between the Silver Wolf and the Great Bear of the far north.

Ranemore held the lower lands while the Iarann Kingdom lay north. The two powers shared the central city. Wihlmsted and its counterpart Braedon soon became a hub for trade between the two lands. There were many smaller villages on the outskirts of this pair. The city of Wihlmsted was a symbol of the two kingdoms' peaceful friendship, creating a place for diversity. Its Jarl, a Ranemore term for governor, was appointed by Lord Adler and the city's guard by the High King. This place held great wealth for some and a good living for most, yet it was out of her reach. Suddenly, she felt a tingling sensation centered in her forehead just above the middle of her brow, breaking her thought trail, and her ear perked towards a couple of townsmen.

I heard she struck again. One of the men whispered in a hushed voice.

At Hale's house?

Aye. I wonder if she caught him with his mistress. The other laughed.

Aylith rested her back on the wall as she listened. She nestled between some stacks of empty slatted crates, to conceal herself. She relaxed into her position against the cool stone, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. Her thick legs kept her propped up. She listened to the men converse. Aylith shifted to find better comfort. She bumped a crate with her wide hips and quickly steadied it to not draw attention. Her face made a humorous expression at her own fumbling.

A hungering growl grew within her. She placed a hand over her stomach, to hush it, as it rumbled once again. Her gift kept her body healthy, even while she continuously felt she was on the verge of starvation. It was as if she always needed to feed, to keep her power satisfied. Yet, the energy within would burn the nutrients too quickly and she would feel famished once more. When she was a child, she felt compelled to eat more than ten times a day, but now, with more control, she would eat two to three times with nibbles in between.

However, she did not feel the need to worry about her appearance. No one had ever seen her fully as her clothing was modest and concealing. She was always covered in cloak, looking mostly like a short pillar of stone or a tree trunk. She made many adjustments to her clothing to better obscure her identity. She had reversed her covering to hide the dark color that she wore as the Crescent Thief. Her deep slate blue cloak was now a light burgundy. She chortled with humor while the men gossiped about the other townsfolk and the city's happenings. Her smile vanished when a newcomer asked about the place and the other replied. The town is fair, until nightfall.

What do you mean? The new man asked, confused. The older man chuckled and spoke again. He nudged his companion.

When the moon rises, she appears, the Crescent Thief. He almost whispered. His company made some eerie sounds. The young man's eyes grew wide with wonder and curiosity. Who is the Crescent Thief?

Don't be foolish! The older man snapped. The Crescent Thief is known across the land, all the way to the Iarann Kingdom’s city of Eison. Someone saw her once with her hood down, but it was too dark to see her face before she clubbed him.

The other townsman looked up at the storyteller. Why do they call her the Crescent Thief?

Because she steals by the light of the moon. He finished in a mocking tone. He was almost laughing. Their voices faded as Aylith stopped listening. She moved on.

Her mind drifted darkly to what awaited her if she were to ever be caught and sentenced. The black castle was the first thing to enter her thoughts. The ominous stone towers seemed to grow from the mountainside. It was said that within its halls all manner of dark things dwelled. The mountain castle recoiled from its neighbors and hid behind thick and treacherous forests, beasts, and rivers. It pressed itself into the mountain, trying to escape from the watchful world, digging deep into the stone caverns.

The Crescent Mountains were jagged and tall, creating the perfect cover from sunrise and sunset. Few trees could creep up its stony cliffs. The stone that adorned the crown of the summit was that of dark blues and grays. The dwarves believed great riches laid within the belly of the mountains, but none were permitted to enter once the bargain was struck. The only exception were the offerings. It had been long negotiated but the races settled on the concealment of the dark beings within the stone walls, to contain the spread. The native creatures were driven away by a new presence. Not much had survived on the mountains now barren peaks but she soon embraced the fortress within her great arms.

The castle was ancient, dating back almost three-hundred years. Built far to the east by the dwarves, the greater city was chiseled into the west of the encircling mountain range. Her blackened walls blended well into the mother stone. Dark windows embedded in the castle could not be penetrated by human eyes. A great stone bridge stretched up to the main gate. Beyond the gate was the larger of the two castles. The elder castle began at the edge of the inner range, wrapping around with smaller towns to the opposing side. The eastern castle was much smaller than her sister counterpart. Both fortresses were tied together by an inner-lying bridge, dotted with lanterns to light the way of those who crossed the deep chasm between.

The small civilization remained dark, with few twinkling lights now and again. The winds between the castles howled and carried the cries into the Blackwood to the surrounding towns of men. There were few ins and outs from the keep. The villages near the mountains had been abandoned. The townsfolk could not withstand the shrieks and screams as men were caged and hauled off to the black gate. They would enter and never return, but later the smell of burning flesh would waft on the breeze and the people nearby fled from the noxious odor. No one truly knew what took place behind those closed doors, but none dared to venture and find out. Aylith shuttered with the fear of her fate.

That will not be me. She chased away the intrusive thoughts and moved down the streets.

She continued her way, strolling at a leisurely pace towards her favorite shop, as to not draw attention. She pulled her scarf up over the lower half of her face and pulled her hood down, shading her gifted eye. Aylith glanced up at the sign looming above the entrance. It was thick and seemed as if it were made from a sword slashed oak block. The borders were etched in a rusted red color with an old-valley script that read 'Menlar's trinkets'.

The inside of the narrow shop looked ancient with Menlar's knick knacks scattered on the shelves that accompanied useful items such as locks, books, and scrolls. A few crystals such as amethyst and quartz laid strewn across ragged cloth for customers to view more closely. Some shelves held foreign herbs and plants, the likes that this area had not seen before. Trinkets made of colored glass hung from the ceiling rafters. They danced in the light and whispered in soft songs as their counterparts would chime together.

The floorboards of the shop were clean but creaky in the presence of newcomers and the oak beams that supported the upper level were spotted with rotting wood that needed replacing. The shops presence felt cranky but intriguing, just as its caretaker. Yet once going inside and seeing it, it would open its arms to the interested shopper. The air was thick with the smell of old books, reviving Aylith with a feeling of vellichor. Diamond braced windows allowed a foggy light to spill onto the floor, giving the shop hazy illumination. A flight of stairs wrapped around the side and back of the shop counter leading to the second floor. Aylith could hear someone above her as she moved towards the back. Creak. Yet the shop remembered her footsteps and did not alert the owner to her motion.

She glided silently across the room until she reached a dilapidated countertop with an elderly man sitting behind it. He was fiddling with a lock he had made in