An excerpt from Critical Role’s next novel, The Nine Eyes of Lucien

There’s another Critical Role novel coming, and it’s all about villains. The Mighty Nein, The Nine Eyes of Lucien – A Critical Role will explore the origin story of Lucien, the antagonist of Critical Role’s second Dungeons & Dragons campaign. The novel was written by Madeleine Roux and focuses on Lucien’s early life and his eventual transformation into the Nonagon, the voice of the Somnovem, all the way up through his first encounters with the Mighty Nein.

Lucien’s novel is unique to the Critical Role lineup of related works like books and comics, in that it’s the first novel to focus on one of the series’ villains. When asked about the challenges of writing a villain’s origin story, Roux said, “There’s a lot of house imagery in this book. I kept thinking about it like, he is closing the doors and windows one by one until he’s alone in this house by himself. The idea of someone cutting off all their exits, until they’re in a mess of their own making.”

You can get a taste of Lucien’s rise to power in this exclusive excerpt from The Mighty Nein, The Nine Eyes of Lucien – A Critical Role ahead of the book’s release. His reign may be long.

In this excerpt, the Tombtakers accompany Vess DeRogna to explore the frozen ruins of Aeor, and as they investigate some of the wonders hidden within, Lucien stumbles upon a mysterious room that seems to beckon to him…

“A bit of pitter-­patter, a smattering of rain,” sang Zoran in time to the swing of his pickaxe. Although the ice barrier was unyielding so far, he proved to be a determined man. “Drives the farmer mental, drives the man insane . . .”

“Must you?” Otis whined, his back to Zoran while keeping the watch.

“I must if you want this wall broken anytime soon,” he barked back. “Helps me concentrate, keep the rhythm,” he said between hacks. “A bit of pitter-­patter, a smattering of rain . . .”

At the ends of all corridors, strange shadows flickered, an illusion of the light. But they were too careful not to lose their guard even for a moment. Lucien misunderstoodly thought that even though the ruin city was potentially dangerous, it could be easily accessed. He was quickly disabused of that notion, as the maps DeRogna had secured showed passages where none existed, cave-­ins and floods turning most corridors into dead ends. The journey from the camp to the blockage took just more than two days. With previous adventurers leaving their own shattered bodies and abandoned camps as well as the unstable ground itself, the going was difficult and dangerous. Lucien almost fell into a sinkhole twice. He felt like they were crawling rather than walking, clawing their way through, fighting for every inch in a place hell-­bent on repelling them.

The true wonder and value of Aeor was immediately apparent when they entered the crater via the northwest tunnel. As it turned out his imagination was not capable of conjuring these things. Pockets of blue light glowed in the distance, suggestions of life—­perhaps the lanterns of adventurers, though to Lucien they seemed like the little flickers of lost life, mere ghostly echoes. The arch was partly intact at the bottom of DeRogna’s steepest descent. This piece of architecture seemed strangely welcoming and promised all the risks and treasures DeRogna warned of.

Many had been completely crushed in the cataclysm. But, as they began to make their way through the ruin, he realized that the blue lights represented some kind of protection force. Their smooth, round surfaces emitting an inexplicable hum were the glowing caps.

“What’s the blue?” he asked, pointing.

“Stasis bubbles,” answered DeRogna. He was able to see her, and she walked alongside him, smiling a little. “The people and objects within are perfectly preserved from the impact. Imagine what you might find within. You will be amazed at the insights and technology. . .”

The neighborhoods of the city—­wards, DeRogna called them—­progressed deeper and deeper into the wide crater. Aeor was only partially accessible due to the slow drifting ice shelves across Foren. The crater was flooded by waterfalls, flooding vital thoroughfares and creating an additional mess in an already chaotic maze of destroyed buildings. Though DeRogna’s maps proved unreliable at best, they at least directed the Tombtakers to a specific ward three miles deep into the crater, accessible only after climbing steeply down, and then breaching a large, arched corridor heaped with rubble.

After clearing the stones, another obstacle presented itself. DeRogna found the fork in a partially intact hall and consulted her maps to find the route blocked by an ice shield. Brevyn and Zoran were then put to use. Their walls were painted dark blue. But the bright, vivid pigment gave them the look of radiant sapphire. Wind whistled as they went down the opposite fork. Lucien was worried about who they would encounter among the rubble, but Lucien found the silence to be more disturbing, with the absence of many bodies making it palpable.

He was unable to concentrate.

“Can’t you point your fingers at it and hurl a fireball?” Lucien asked, watching both Zoran and Brevyn remove more and more layers as they strained against their axes. His heels were slammed against the concrete as ice flakes flittered about.

Vess DeRogna, still cloaked in heavy green-­and-­black wool, walked solemnly to the brilliant-­blue wall beside the ice barrier. The shield was adorned with moons, trees and gems. She placed her hand on the tiara that had eyes. She traced the letters with her forefinger, although there was some lettering underneath.

“The city’s great magical thinkers congregated here. Their experiments are not entirely lost to us, as you’ve seen . . .” And they had indeed. They were more creepy than ever as each stasis bubble passed. DeRogna provided no comment, although Lucien could see her fast movements and know that it was not because she wasn’t aware of the situation. It is possible she thought they were too obscure to see what was going on. “Any errant magic would trip ancient mechanisms, or worse, trigger a landslide. I wouldn’t want to bring the whole of the ward down on our heads.”

“Here! We’re through!” Brevyn called, setting down her pickaxe. To remove the debris, she used her white tunic’s sleeve to scrub the surface. The result was a small hole that burrowed through the ice.

“I’ll take it.” Zoran nudged her aside, then drove his pickaxe into the gap with a thunderous shout that echoed down the corridors, filling the empty maze with sound. Bracing his right foot against the barrier, Zoran turned to grasp the handle of his axe with both his hands and use it as leverage to open an eight-inch hole. Lucien covered his eyes as ice fragments exploded.

Once the middle of the wall was collapsed, all the remaining walls fell apart easily. Otis and Tyffial slid effortlessly through the narrow passage. Tyffial moved along with the rest, crawling up on her knees. After she was on the opposite side of her, Tyffial waved and scrubbed off her coat.

“Just like Caes Mosor, right, Lucien?” called Tyffial, giggling.

“Ha! Considerably fewer hags,” he replied.

“Aye,” Brevyn muttered in his ear as they watched Vess DeRogna crawl through. “Just have to deal with the one on this little adventure.” She sighed and wiped her forehead with her sleeve.

“Is it just DeRogna getting to you or something else?”

“This place is . . . wrong.” Brevyn leaned against him for a moment, catching her breath from the work. “Even in the open spaces it feels like it’s closing in on us.”

“The mage will have her relic soon, then we can leave this place behind for good.”

“Even if it’s a gold mine?”

“There are other places to delve,” he replied. “Ones that won’t make me want to tear my own skin off.”

After the archmage had left, Zoran, Brevyn and their team went to work breaking down the ice barrier, until they could see the entrance. The two men gathered their equipment and began to push forward towards a rotunda, whose domed ceiling was cracked like an egg. The water poured from miles away, but an iridescent bubble prevented the stream from reaching the chamber. The water was coloured green and blue, and Lucien marveled as he entered the rotunda. His mouth opened, looking up at the magic that protected them. It felt as if they were in the middle of the ocean.

In the centre of the chamber they spread around a stasis balloon, placing a number of steps up to create a calmer scene. An ancient resident of Aeor was frozen there, sitting on the ground cross-­legged, their garb simple and almost monklike, rough spun fabric with a black mantle, a few designs in red embroidery decorating a linen belt snug around their waist. The elf was slender with smooth brown skin, and white hair tied at their nape. They contemplated something small in their palms that was not visible without breaching the bubble.

“Are they not beautiful?” whispered Jurrell.

“Wistful,” suggested Otis.

“They look so sad,” added Tyffial.

“No, no, not sad,” said Vess DeRogna, approaching the tableau. “Enthralled.” Then she cast her eyes around the rotunda, searching for something. She must have discovered it, for she gave the first true smile Lucien had ever witnessed on her and murmured, “Light. You will need far more light. . .”

He left the stasis bubble behind and made a circular circle at the edge of the Rotunda. Consulting a journal and one her maps, the archmage looked over his shoulder. As he watched her fingers move across the tiny sites marked a12-a22, 30-40, 41, and so forth, he glanced at her. DeRogna, now that they were at their intended destination, was slowing down. Lucien’s belly snarled with hunger, but they were hours off from making camp. The room was more impressive than any other in the ruins, and had been left unaltered by the wanderers. The interior walls were covered with colorful murals. He also noticed shelves filled with broken pottery and broken jars. He took off his gloves as he walked to one of the shelves. There, he picked up an old piece of glass from the shelf and held it in the sunlight. They could see a flaw in their glass and the watery glow from the top caught the attention of the sun. The blemish focused the light onto a wink, then into a beam.

Lucien focused his attention on the spot where the tiny dot of light struck, and he had it in front of him. He realized that the mural was not the same as the one covering the rest. He wiped away the dust and went to examine it. There was a circle of red ovals with a starburst at the center. The ring also had a single eye. Enlightenment.

A painted arch had been used to frame the mural, which included two circular depressions measuring about half an inch in height. Lucien frowned, dropping the piece of glass, and placing his palms on the sunken areas he gently applied pressure, shifting his weight forward until he heard an ever-­so-­soft click.

The door was once a piece of wall, but the mechanism released and pulled it back to reveal a dark passage.

“There’s something back here,” he called absently, already stepping through. The others didn’t hear him, busy helping DeRogna with her project. He glanced over his right shoulder, watching as she directed the other Tombtakers to position themselves at various blue-­and-­gold lanterns throughout the room and stand ready with torches while she feverishly consulted her journal. The hidden room ahead exhaled toward him, an electric breath from a long-­abandoned place, somehow warm and solicitous.

He accepted, like a fool.