Prologue
The symbols glowed beneath her finger on the rim of the bowl. Del'Aru watched in wide-eyed fascination at the magic awakening on the ancient object. One of many of the magic-infused artifacts left after the disappearance of the Old Ones, the ancient race that once dominated Derandria. There in the ruins of one of the old, hidden studies, she had revived the Vessel of Ukalov.
"Treak!" she called. The goblin would want to see the results of her efforts to reveal the magic of the large bowl. She was near, her scent strong yet amid the musty shelves of the old temple.
From around a desk came the rapid patter of goblin feet. The bald green head bobbed in the faint light over the level of the desk top, with fanlike ears that pointed up along the dome of the head. Treak stood no taller than Del'Aru's hip but reached her side in a blink.
In her simple long shirt belted at the waist with a vest keeping it snug around her scrawny body, the goblin climbed onto the table on which the vessel sat. Large dark eyes widened in fascination.
Del'Aru removed her finger from the brim of the silver bowl and the symbols faded. The bowl returned to its normal, tarnished state. "Incredible."
The goblin nodded agreement, a smile revealing pointed teeth in her mouth.
"I can't believe it was hiding in plain sight." Del'Aru turned her eyes to the book on the table next to the bowl and flipped the page to drawings of the vessel and its many symbols in the language she was just beginning to understand.
"It would seem the Old Ones knew how to hide their most precious knowledge." She looked about at the dusty study with its walls of books, the tables of artifacts with the sediment of time coating them, and, in the center, a statue of three exquisite women holding rings slanted on tangents to each other around a wide center.
A tug on her brown sleeve—her scales transformed into clothes to protect and warm her human form—pulled Del'Aru's eyes back to the goblin. The quick run of gestures had her nodding in agreement. Although goblins couldn't speak in the presence of demonlords, Treak and she had worked out a system over their years of friendship.
"Yes, they didn't want it falling into the wrong hands. But they can't keep their secrets forever. I am immortal, and if it takes an eternity to solve the mysteries of the Old Ones, then that's what it'll be. I won't give up, Treak. I need to know what my dreams mean."
Another series of gestures left her puzzled while the goblin hopped from the desk and ran across the dusty floor to one of the shelves. Treak scurried up the ladder to pull out several scrolls of parchment. With them tucked under her arm, she pressed her bare feet on the side of the ladder and slid down with a squeak of skin on metal.
Del'Aru had left the goblin to the lighter items, although Treak could move the larger books with magic. But it didn't feel right to leave the goblin to such tasks to strain her when Del'Aru was more than capable.
Del'Aru joined Treak at the second of the two desks, where the goblin unrolled the old parchments slowly. The first appeared to be a list of names, demonlord names of various clans, including her own Del'Rayk, but one that hadn't been heard from in hundreds of years and was probably dead; demonlords might be immortal, but they could be killed by other demonlords. The clans had warred and fought for territory for over two thousand years off and on. The text above the names indicated an agreement of guardianship of the First Ones, whatever that meant.
"First of what?" she questioned aloud. Some of the names rang familiar, even chillingly familiar, like Te'Mea, the demonlord who organized the first Adepts, humans with the power to dispirit lesser demons but not demonlords. Her blood ran cold at the realization that she had heard recent rumors of some of the demonlords on that list since leaving her clan's self-imposed isolation from the world—some were still alive. What were they
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