“A, B, C, D…”

The sudden flicker of the candle’s flame at the corner of my desk caused me to flinch in panic, the pencil nib stopping precisely on its point as I willed the light to live on just a little longer. There was a terrible draught in my Tylmerande study, a by-product of living so close to the sea, and I had run out of candles. My final one was nearly down to its stub, with nothing left in the house to relight it. A ridiculous problem to have, admittedly, but a problem nonetheless. I needed to make my last one survive the night, so that I could finish the translation of the script and get back to the grave before the groundsmen arrived in the morning. So, with each small gust that disturbed the shutters and threatened to extinguish what little illumination I had, I held my breath and hoped the gods would be kind.

The nib touched back onto the parchment, and my keen eye aligned the next letters with their appropriate symbols.

“F through to I present. J, missing. K through to O present, P missing.”

I was making good progress, having translated nearly half of the known alphabet as the ocean’s breath hurled another icy blast through my house. I cringed as the candle swayed, and the flame desperately clung onto life.

“Q missing. R through to U. V Missing. W…there it is. X is missing. Y, missing. Z – no, wait. Y is…”

Finally, the divine spirits of the sea cast judgment down upon my work, conjuring up a gust that rattled the frames on my window and snuffed the last motes of life from my only remaining candle. With the wick burned down to its stub, whatever I had down would have to do.

I took the parchment to the window facing the sea, and held it up to the moon’s light, where I could just make out the pencil’s marks in the luminescence. if I'd cracked this, then the translated sentence should match that of the one underneath it on the brass plate.

ADRETSE FO SREHCTAW EHT ROF ROLG DNA ENUTROF B DNUOB WORROMOT FO SGNIK EHT

I heaved a sigh of frustration and rubbed my eyes as I attempted to make sense of the nonsense in front of me. Fuck. It probably wasn’t a total waste of time in the long run, but the symbols obviously weren’t a like-for-like translation of the tradespeak sentence below it on the brass plate, meaning using the sentence as a cipher was a dead end at the moment and would need more thought, and more time. As I perched on the edge of the chair near the window, I held the paper pinched between finger and thumb and thought about the possibilities. It had to be a separate sentence, perhaps part of a larger code.

It was then my mind wandered off-task. How could I open the box, which was sat on the corner of the desk? It was pointless trying to do it now, though, I reasoned. With no light available, and tiredness creeping in, it would have to be a problem for the morning, along with re-inspecting the translation. It would mean that there would be no way of getting back to the headstone early and translating the text before someone noticed the mess I had made.

It was then, as the exhausted and frustrated reflection in the window stared back at me, I noticed the words on the reflected image of the parchment staring back at me too.

THE KINGS OF TOMORROW BOUND B FORTUNE AND GLOR FOR THE WATCHERS OF ESTERDA

No wonder I couldn't make any sense of it. The gibberish must need to be read left-to-right, not the traditional right-to-left of tradespeak.

Who the hell writes in mirrored script? was the last thought that passed through my mind as my head hit the pillow, and I slipped into the welcoming arms of the abyss.