In the middle of all the celebration, everyone had forgotten one question.
Whatever happened to Keldin?
Meanwhile, back in Karazhan, Keldin was lying face down on the cold floor. Pretending to be dead, in his mind he prayed to the light the patrolling wyrm wouldn’t step on him, and so far it hadn’t.
Now his other prayer was fulfilled, as the wyrm laid it’s head down and lowered it’s body. Seizing the opportunity, Keldin slowly rose and tiptoed to the doors. They were sealed tight, but he managed to wrench them open without waking the sleeping dragon.
Heart thumping in his chest, Keldin closed the door behind him, slumping onto the ground. He survived! Quickly recovering his stature, he stood up...
And noticed a skeleton staring directly at him without eyes.
Keldin wasn’t easily scared – after all, he had managed to keep his cool with a massive beast of burning bones literally breathing down his neck for hours. What caught his attention was the object the skeleton held: a small stone, perfectly square, covered in beautiful runes, carved deep into the solid surface.
“Well, well. Aren’t ye just the prettiest thing,” he whispered in awe, removing the stone from the brittle fingers. “I think ye’ll be me lucky charm. Now, let’s go look for the others, shall we?”
As he managed to pry the stone free, he came to a realisation: his friends were probably long gone and they had left him behind, abandoned him.
That meant the tower was now empty.
He stared deeply into the stone. It seemed to inspire him. King Keldin of Karazhan. It had a nice ring to it.