Dark beacon of Aiolos – session diary 1
Two weeks ago, I introduced you to the setting of my world and promised a session diary. I haven’t written a short story since elementary school, but I wanted to see if it’s the correct format for the session diary.
The last time I told a TTRPG story was in the previous millennium. I was worried about my performance, but it went well. In retrospect, there were two points to focus on next time.
1) The mood was much spookier than intended.
2) Too many new characters made it a little confusing. Afterwards, I generated a few portraits to help make sense of the NPCs. Unfortunately, I couldn’t convince the generator to create more average people, as if everyone needed to look great.
Klio didn’t get the well-deserved rest she needed that night. Someone had visited her parents late in the evening and again early in the morning for unknown reasons. It wasn’t unusual—they were local priests and deputies of the church in Heliopolis. But last night, as was customary, she had been holding vigil during the full moon and hoped for at least one proper night of sleep.
It couldn’t be helped, she supposed. As a future priestess of Óó in Batra, she had to get used to the idea that her city’s and its people’s needs came before her comfort.
When she joined the breakfast table, her parents were already seated. Tension hung in the air. The usual peacefull atmosphere was absent.
“We have a big task for you today. You need to go to the Aiolos beacon. Fetch the dead body of Kyrian,” said her father abruptly without any introduction.
Her mind barely began forming a question when he continued, “We likely woke you up last night when people came to tell us the beacon was dark. This morning, the fishermen went to check. There was an accident. Kyrian is dead. We need you to bring his body back for the farewell ceremony. Dorian will assist you — he’s already arranging a suitable boat with the fishermen.”
The farewell ceremony meant they will need to move many things including the wood for the funeral pyre to the graveyard. Since the plague, people have learned that anyone who didn’t die of old age had to be burned. It had always been customary for those who passed in service to the temple, but now it was mandatory for all.
“I know this task isn’t easy, and you should have been properly trained at the Heliopolis Academy before handling something like this, but we just didn’t want you to leave our house yet,” her father said. “But I know you can do it. Just place the body on the bier, cover it, and take his family with you. Dorian will tend to the beacon while they’re gone.”
After moving everything, Klio went to find Dorian at the harbour.
She spotted him loading oil barrels onto the boat while her mother spoke with the boat’s owners at the pier. Matthaios looked sad and proud at the same time. He was proud that his boat had been chosen to deliver supplies to the lighthouse. Everyone in Batra would be. The lighthouse bore the name of Aiolos, the most revered figure in the city’s history, and ensuring its light never faded was a duty that filled many with pride. He was sad for the grim purpose tied to this trip’s other purpose.
From their discussion, Klio understood that the fishermen, on their way back from the beacon of Aiolos, had stopped at the Zuzari lighthouse — located along the route—and had already informed its keepers of the situation. When they finished speaking, Daphne took her daughter to the boat, wishing her luck with her task. Then, lowering her voice, she added, “But be watchful for any signs that this wasn’t an accident. Remember, the Elsira family has been trying to claim the Aiolos beacon themselves.”
While sailing to the island, Klio asked Dorian if he had heard anything else. The temple slave merely repeated what she already knew. However, he admitted that he was looking forward to spending a night or two at the lighthouse, where his only responsibility would be keeping the fire alight. He was also relieved to bring provisions now — it would save him time next week when it was scheduled.
Upon reaching the island, they tied the boat to the pier. Klio made her way to the houses while Dorian unloaded the provisions and prepared the bier. She found the young widow and her two children inside one of the houses. The sound of quiet sobbing filled the space.
Klio stood in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged before stepping inside. The only person who raised his eyes toward her was young Nereon. The young widow, breastfeeding her daughter, seemed lost in grief, not noticing Klio’s presence. It took a few moments for Eudora to notice Klio. Apologizing for not seeing her earlier, she tried to offer her usual hospitality. But was interrupted by Klio, who was trying to take care of her in her mourning while gently asking what had happened.
Between sobs, Eudora explained that Kyrian had gone to the lighthouse to light the fire in the evening but never returned. Later, they found his body at the base of the lighthouse. Her story was punctuated by gasping sobs and murmured rhetorical questions: “Why? Why us? He wasn’t drinking anymore… What will happen to us now?”
At the mention of drinking, Nereon stiffened. His face darkened, and he suddenly bolted for the door without a word. As he rushed past, he shoved Klio aside, nearly knocking her off balance, before disappearing outside.
Later Klio found him sitting on a bench outside, kicking at the stones. She approached carefully and asked him to show her the body so they could move it onto the bier and transport it to the boat. As they walked toward the lighthouse, waiting for Dorian to fetch the bier, Klio gently pressed Nereon for an explanation.
After some hesitation, the boy finally admitted what had happened. The day before, they had visited their neighbours at the Zuzari lighthouse, where Kyrian had received a liquor bottle. That evening, when Nereon went looking for him to remind him to light the fire, he found his father drunk for the first time after a year of sobriety. Kyrian had flown into a rage, chasing Nereon up the lighthouse, trying to strike him like in the old days. But at the top, with no place left to run, Nereon had simply stepped aside. His father, unbalanced by the force of his own swing, had staggered forward, lost his footing, and fallen to the rocky shore below.
Klio placed a reassuring hand on Nereon’s shoulder, telling him no one needed to know. He had done nothing wrong.
Slowly, they all gathered at the boat, leaving Dorian behind to tend to the lighthouse.
When they arrived in Batra, it was raining. People at the pier helped them carry the body to the temple, where they would all stay for the night.
This time, Klio got a good night’s sleep. Her mother spent much of the evening with Eudora, discussing her situation and the future for her and her children. By dawn, everyone was prepared for the farewell ceremony.
With Óó silent, it fell to Klio to uphold the illusion of his power. In the past, the fire would rise with the first sun’s rays. Even though the god no longer answered, the ceremony needed to proceed as if he did. Unseen by the mourners, she used a small lens to focus the first rays of sunlight onto an oil-soaked branch within the funeral pyre. A flicker, then smoke, and finally, flames leapt to life.
Kyrian’s ashes were gathered and ceremonially presented to his widow later that day. Klio then accompanied Eudora and her children back to the island.
As their boat approached, they noticed Dorian waiting at the pier, pacing with tense, impatient energy. When Klio stepped to the dock, he got close to her and quietly asked to be taken home immediately.
Klio frowned. “I need to escort the family home first. Then we can leave.”
Dorian nodded, jumped to the boat, sat down and waited for Klio to return. Only once they had set sail for Batra did he begin to relax — though he continued glancing back at the island until it disappeared.
When they finally docked, Dorian jumped onto the pier, visibly relieved.
After some insistence, he admitted what had unsettled him so much. “The lighthouse is haunted,” he whispered. “I heard voices all night.”
By morning, it became clear that something was happening on the island. Reports reached the temple that the lighthouse had been signalling toward the city during the night.
Klio shared Dorian’s claims about the haunting with her parents. Teofil decided to visit the island to cleanse it of any restless spirits.
When Klio and her father arrived, they found Nereon and Eudora nearly packed and ready to leave. Their faces were tight with exhaustion, their eyes haunted.
“The lighthouse is cursed,” Eudora said firmly. “We heard Kyrian’s voice all night.” All of them felt something was not right here. Not even Teofil’s intent to perform a cleansing ritual was calming them down.
Klio asked Nereon to show them exactly where Kyrian had fallen. Even before the cleansing started, they all heard a faint, barely decipherable voice: “Forgiveness… Forgiveness…”
“I killed him,” Nereon blurted, his voice cracking. “It was my fault… Please, Father, forgive me!” Klio placed a hand on his shoulder. “No,” she said softly. “He’s asking for your forgiveness.”
It took him a moment as if he did not understand what he was asked to do, and then he took a shuddering breath. “I forgive you, Father,” he whispered.
The voice faded. The oppressive atmosphere lifted. The lighthouse no longer felt like a tomb.
Teofil finished his ritual, looking satisfied. Eudora, who had been so sure they needed to flee, now seemed confused about why she had even considered leaving.
It was time to go home.
During the night, Klio decided to confront the keepers of the Zuzari lighthouse about Kyrian’s death—even if it had been unintentional.
When she arrived at their island, they were seated on a bench in front of the lighthouse, looking as unremarkable as ever. They admitted to giving Kyrian the bottle of Olmir but claimed they hadn’t known he had stopped drinking. They denied any ill intent, but Klio didn’t believe them. Still, there was nothing she could do about it.
Frustrated, she left the island and set sail for home. Klio had as much experience sailing around the island as everyone else. But today, her boat was constantly turning away from her home, pointing toward the other side of the bay, to the Axion peninsula and its towering mesa as though answering an unseen command. She got it home in the end, but it took a lot of effort.
Upon arriving in Batra, she found her mother at the main guardhouse. Daphne handled the city’s practical leadership, including security, as Teofil guided its spiritual affairs. Klio told her about her suspicions—the bottle of Olmir Kyrian had received from the Zuzari lighthouse keepers. Why would they give it to him if they were his friends and knew he had been sober for over a year?
Daphne’s expression darkened immediately. “They did what?” She exhaled sharply. “I smell Elsira’s hand in this.”
There was nothing more Klio could do about the matter, but she remained unsettled—especially by the way the sea had tried to pull her toward the forbidden peninsula. She needed space to think, so she told her mother she wanted to spend a few days outside the city.
Waiting for dusk, she took a boat and set off for Axion. As before, the sea pulled her toward the peninsula, but she let it this time.
It was already dark when she landed. She needed to find a safe place to camp for the night. Her steps carried her as if led by an unseen force. Without realizing it, she left the shore and went deep into the forest, towards the Axios mesa. There, she noticed a strange blue glow and moved closer to investigate. Carved into the rock was a man-made alcove containing a statue—a muscular figure holding a trident. As she stared at the statue, a voice echoed in her mind: “Finally, you’re here.”
