“Gods damnit!” Graham puffed.

His footsteps thundered down the street, arms and back aching from the weight of Miss Torohar’s unconscious form. Not a soul seemed to be out tonight, the normally busy road utterly devoid of life. Even the buildings around him seemed dead, doors shut tight, darkness filling the windows, as though the entire city had shut down, a marvel in of itself. And something he knew Jarlaxle could facilitate.

Sweat soaked through his tunic, sticking it to his thin frame; Miss Torohar’s face bounced against his collarbone with each exhausted step, her cheek damp from the exhaustion that pulled at Graham’s body. Despite the lies he told himself every morning, he knew he wasn’t as spry as he once was. It would be a miracle if he managed to reach the castle in his current state, wounds and all.

Graham grimaced, sucking in air through clenched teeth as he rounded the corner onto Hillock Court; thinking of it as a miracle would only worsen the situation, should he dwell on it. Best to shove that exhaustion to the back of his mind before his body agreed and give out.

The streetlamps offered their light to only Graham as he ran through the Court, nothing more than a cobblestone square surrounded by a few dead shops. Just as he reached the other side, the square giving way to a typical street, Graham’s boot slid on a particularly smooth section of stone; shouting out a curse, he twisted his body and smashed his shoulder into the road, pulling Miss Torohar tight as he fell the rest of the way onto his back, pain exploding through his arm.

Exhaustion caught up and smashed into him a frantic heartbeat later, cramping his legs and knotting his back. Stifling a curse, Graham tried to sit up and found that he couldn’t; despite the urgency that shook him with each gulping breath, his body refused to listen to him, buried under a mountain of fatigue.

Huffing through clenched teeth, Graham rested his head against the cobblestone, the road cool against his burning body. Up above, the moon shone brightly, enough for an ache to creep into the back of his eyes.

Castle Waterdeep remained only a few minutes away; just a little further, just a little more running, and Miss Torohar would be safe, and Graham could finally, truly, rest. Yet despite the bargaining, his body refused to move. Sweat dripped from his head as he once again cursed the fragility of his old, decrepit body – a body that now served only to betray him.

Still, he was unpursued. The city remained asleep, its occupants dead to the night’s events, and not even a single guard was out to stop him. Graham was certain that he wouldn’t have gotten this far in the first place, yet Jarlaxle saw fit to leave him unpursued, if he even prepared for the event at all. Perhaps…perhaps that afforded him a moment then…if he could just catch his breath…

Graham gasped, his eyes snapping open; the heaving of his chest had ceased, and Miss Torohar’s still unconscious form had begun to slip from his grasp.

“Gods damnit.” Graham sputtered. “Gods –”

Curse twisting into a groan, Graham forced himself to sit up, his body screaming in protest as he hauled Miss Torohar into his lap. He shook out his head, willing away the siren call of sleep; further up, barely visible as the streetlights gave way to the drawbridge, Castle Waterdeep rose into the sky, a dark monolith whispering of safety.

The realization of just how close he was burned away the exhaustion that yearned to yank him back down; huffing, wishing he was twenty years younger, Graham crossed his legs, leaned forward, and hauled himself up. A burning pain lanced through his body as he staggered to his feet, amplified step by horrible step as he forced himself to walk. Just a little more, a little more walking, and she’d be safe. Wasn’t that worth the pain?

Something flashed behind him.

Heart flying into his throat, Graham twisted around – as best he could – and balked.

Further into the city behind him, the black of night gave way to a spear of flaming brilliance, towering over the city. The column of flame writhed for a single moment, before exploding out in a wave of silver, a wall of burning light. It expanded over the city like a hurricane descending from the sea, forcing Graham to turn and duck his head, least his eyes burn from their sockets as night suddenly snapped to day.

A heartbeat later, the entirety of Waterdeep shook with a deafening roar, the ground buckling and throwing Graham back to the cobblestone. He screamed as he collapsed over Miss Torohar, shielding her as best he could from the sudden blast.

The blinding silver light remained in the sky long after the city stilled, but it too soon faded, the dark of night crawling back to reclaim its rightful place. Graham remained curled over his charge, eyes wide and chest heaving, as the city – somehow – returned to normal, as though the end of the world hadn’t reared its ugly head.

His heart leapt into his throat; that wasn’t the apocalypse, but it had come from the direction of the house. Was that Miss Lash? Had she done something? But she’d never displayed a power such as that before; unless she had been selling herself short, Miss Lash didn’t seem the type of person to –

Graham shook his head – harder than he meant to – and grunted as he rolled onto his back and forced himself up; if that truly was Miss Lash, it didn’t matter what she had done, only that she was still buying time for him. And despite the terror that clawed at his hammering heart and the exhaustion that burned throughout his body, Graham couldn’t let that go to waste.

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Glowing lights had sprung to life in windows and doorways alike, the city slowly shaking itself awake, and for good reason. Fear pricked the back of his mind as Graham pushed himself forward, moving at only half his normal pace. If the city was waking up, there remained a high probability that the Guard would show up as well, men and women who would more than likely be agents of Jarlaxle, if what Graham had seen remained true for the entire organization. His only hope remained getting into Castle Waterdeep and locating the true allies that Miss Torohar possessed.

He gritted his teeth, shifting her weight in his arms. That was assuming, of course, he wasn’t stopped by the men Jarlaxle undoubtedly had placed within the castle itself.

As the city continued to stir behind him, Graham finally staggered to the front of Castle Waterdeep, its drawbridge mercifully lowered, though he couldn’t think of a time when it was ever drawn up. Granted, it remained difficult for Graham to think through his exhaustion at all. But as his boots thudded against the wood, a single question sliced through the fog, sending with it a spark of panic through Graham’s heaving chest.

What in the Nine Hells was he supposed to say?

By the nature of the profession, a Masked Lord’s identity remained a closely guarded secret; not even the guards closest to the Lords knew of their identities, let alone any of the typical rank-and-file that comprised the castle’s garrison. Thus, an old man, soaked with sweat and stained with blood, loudly demanding shelter for a Lord in need would get him thrown down the drawbridge, a fate that would behoove neither him or Miss Torohar.

But then what was he to say? How could he get anyone to trust him in the first place? Had Miss Torohar been awake, this wouldn’t be an issue, but then, well, Graham wouldn’t be hobbling up a drawbridge in the first place, his mind aflame with worry – for the friends that Miss Torohar had just so recently made, and for Miss Torohar herself.

Perhaps that’s what pained Graham the most, above everything that had happened tonight; Miss Torohar had finally achieved some sense of normalcy, only for it be ripped away, again by Jarlaxle.

“Halt!” A guard shouted as Graham finally reached the top of the drawbridge, stepping forward to meet him; his companions, looking at the sky, stiffened to attention as Graham staggered onto the landing. “What business do you have here?”

“I –” Graham’s voice twisted into a wet cough, his body doubling over as he hacked out his lungs. Damn his old age. “I need – I need – shelter –”

“You’ve come to the wrong place then.” The guard’s plate clanked as he punctuated his words with the slamming of his spear butt. “Castle Waterdeep does not house the homeless, so be off with you! We have more important matters to attend to!”

The guard flipped around, shoving a lance of dread through Graham’s heart.

“P-please!” Graham shouted, clutching Miss Torohar tighter. “You must – you must listen to me, I –”

“Leave at once!” The guard shouted over his shoulder. “Or I will have no choice but to arrest you!”

“Please – wait –”

“Leave! Now!”

Graham’s chest began to heave as the guard begin conversing with his companions, pointing towards the sky. Now wasn’t the time to panic, his time was too limited for that. But then what was he to say? There had to be a way to get through, there had to be. How would Miss Torohar handle it? What would she say?

Well, she’d just demand her way in, wouldn’t she?

But demanding to be let in wouldn’t work. And saying something so ridiculous would no doubt get him thrown into the moat below.

The guard’s conversation grew louder, each now pointing to the sky; the one who had spoken to Graham shook his head and began to move towards the castle gate.

Graham bit his lip, hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood; gods, what other choice did he have?

“I hold in my arms the 74th Masked Lord of the Castle Ward, unconscious, and requesting shelter from the city she has sworn to protect!” The guards jerked, their heads snapping to Graham. “Should all of you fail in your duties to provide aid, you will see to the downfall of a seated lord! Do not make that mistake!”

Heat burned in Graham’s cheeks as he failed to stop himself from cringing, but despite sounding utterly ridiculous, his words had the desired effect. The guard he had spoken to flipped on his heel and marched towards him, the gap in his helmet highlighting the rage that twisted across his face.

“I could have you arrested for that, you idiot!” The guard hissed, now less than a foot from Graham’s face. “Lying like that, especially now!” He waved his spear towards the sky. “We have better things to deal with than –”

“I speak the truth!” Graham shot back. “What do I have to gain from running up here and declaring something like that?! Nothing!”

“You gain nothing but a quick trip to the cells if you don’t leave!” The guard shouted back. “There is –”

“I do not care what’s going on!” Huffing with effort, Graham lifted Miss Torohar’s unconscious body towards the guard, sending him back a step. “This woman is more important than you or I and she needs shelter immediately! Why can’t you understand that?!”

“Because where I stand, you’re no different than any other lying idiot on the street! Get out of here, this is your last warning!”

“Then arrest me!” Graham roared, surprising even himself as the guard jumped. “Clap us both in chains and hurl us into the darkest cell! I do not care anymore, just get it over with!”

The guard’s eyes went wide, and while rage still burned within them, behind it was a spark of genuine bewilderment. Graham doubted anyone had ever asked to be arrested by the castle Guard before.

“You’re daft.” The guard echoed his thoughts, glancing at the sky.

“Not daft.” Graham replied. “I know who I hold. I wouldn’t be here if it was anyone else.”

The guard took another step back, eyes darting between Miss Torohar’s form and the sky; a lump formed in Graham’s throat as he swallowed, the smashing of his heart beginning to make him dizzy. He was too old for all this excitement.

“If she awakes,” the guard said. “and cannot identify herself or give us a reasonable understanding of her supposed position…I will see to your imprisonment personally. Impersonating a –”

“No one is impersonating anyone.” Graham said. “But fine, I agree to these terms. Please, may we get through the gate?”

“Yes, yes. I need to –”

The sky flashed again.

Graham tore his head up just in time to see –

He gasped, staggering back.

“Gods above!” The guard screamed, eyes going wide. “G-get inside, everyone! Now!”

Dread smashed into Graham like a hammer, his head craning back as far as it would go; the silver was so bright, so encompassing –

“Gods damnit, move!”

Graham jerked as the guard heaved him towards the gate, his body suddenly regaining feeling. He glanced over his shoulder as he ran after the guard, eyes wide, heart hammering.

Was that Miss Lash up in the air?

“Move!”

Graham jumped, turned away, and ran through the open gate, just as the heavens were rent apart in a fury of silver and yellow.