Karlach stood up from her bed, stretching with a satisfied groan as her muscles flexed and relaxed. She hadn’t felt this refreshed in years. Since Zeus had replaced her infernal engine with a new heart, she finally slept without the gnawing fear of her chest exploding in the middle of the night since she arrived in this plane . It was a sensation she hadn’t realized she missed—peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.
She glanced around the dimly lit room, taking in the scene. Art was slumped against the wall, an odd character who somehow had survived these cursed lands for over a hundred years. The lines of age and weariness etched deeply into his face were a testament to the horrors he had seen and endured. Shadowheart sat in a corner, her head bowed in quiet prayer, lips moving in silent incantations as her fingers traced the symbol of Shar. Wyll, was methodically cleaning his blade, the steel catching the flickering light from the hearth.
Feeling her gaze, Wyll lifted his eyes to meet hers, offering a charming smile that sent a pleasant warmth through Karlach’s chest. She couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander for a moment. "Damn, he’s so hot," she mused to herself, feeling her pulse quicken. "Hopefully, he’ll make his move soon."
“How was the nap?” Wyll asked, his voice smooth and inviting, as he finished polishing the blade.
Karlach imagined his hands on her for a moment, the thought stirring something primal within her. “Amazing,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Now that I can finally sleep in a bed without burning it. What about you? Did you sleep well?”
“Like a babe,” he yawned, stretching his arms above his head, the muscles in his forearms flexing.
Karlach watched him, her gaze lingering.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to sleep as much as I want soon, hopefully,” Wyll added, noticing the concern etched on her face. Since the whole ordeal had begun, Wyll had been cutting his sleep short, always on guard, always ready.
“Where are the others?” she asked, pulling on her boots that now felt slightly tighter around her calves.
Wyll glanced around the room as if taking stock. “Astarion is in the main hall, drinking some wine. Lae’zel is playing with… "He paused . "... her kid.” He whispered . “Alex is outside, practicing his blade. Minthara… I’m not sure where she is. And Zeus is probably still in the cellar. Gale left earlier after Roland came by asking for help with something.”
Karlach nodded, then without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Wyll’s hand, pulling him up to his feet. She saw a light blush creep up his neck, and it made her heart skip a beat. "Come on, Wyll, make your move already," she thought to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Let’s go eat something. I’m starving,” she said, her voice full of energy as she led him out of the room.
He nodded, his hand warm in hers as they walked together to the main hall of the inn. The place was lively, a rare sight these days. Astarion lounged in a corner, sipping wine with that ever-present smirk on his face. Lae’zel was sitting with the boy, showing him some papers marked with strange symbols, her face surprisingly soft as she guided him. At a nearby table, Alex, Ellyka, and Elfira were giggling over something, while Lakrissa sat a few seats away, her eyes narrowed in Alex’s direction, her expression a mix of suspicion and anger.
Roland was engaged in a lively conversation with Gale, who seemed to revel in the attention, his ego visibly swelling as Roland hung on his every word.
Karlach and Wyll approached the counter where an older Harper was reading from a tattered book. The inn had seen better days, its supplies dwindling as the endless fighting dragged on.
“Give us something to eat,” Karlach said as she plopped down on a chair, suddenly realizing she was still holding Wyll’s hand. She quickly let go, her face flushing with embarrassment, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "He didn’t pull away," she noted, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.
The Harper reached under the counter and brought out a plate of dried meat, cheese, and stale bread, placing it in front of them.
“Ugh, better than nothing, I suppose,” Karlach muttered, though she knew they were lucky to have anything at all. Supplies were running dangerously low.
As they began to eat, the lively chatter in the inn gradually fell into an uneasy silence. The reason became clear as Zeus entered the room, Minthara close by his side. They moved with a silent intensity, their presence commanding attention. Minthara’s gaze never left Zeus.
Karlach leaned in closer to Wyll, whispering under her breath, “I bet they’re together.”
Wyll blinked, surprised. “Zeus and Minthara? Really?”
“Yeah, look at her, how she looks at him. She’s over the hills for him,” Karlach said, her tone carrying a note of amusement.
Wyll glanced over, noticing the way Minthara’s gaze lingered on Zeus, the way she positioned herself so close to him, as if she couldn’t bear to be apart. “Now that you mention it…” he murmured, trailing off as he processed this new dynamic.
One by one, the rest of the party began to gather around Zeus’s table, drawn in by some unspoken signal. Even Shadowheart and Lae’zel, who had been engrossed in their own tasks, made their way over, taking their places among the group.
Karlach leaned forward, breaking the tension. “What’s the plan, boss?”
Zeus looked around at them, ensuring everyone was present and accounted for. “I’ll explain shortly. First, is everyone rested?”
“I could cast spells all day,” Gale responded with a confident grin.
“I’m always ready,” Astarion added, flashing his trademark smile.
Shadowheart nodded silently, her expression unreadable. Alex did the same, his face betraying no emotion.
“My blade is sharp and ready,” Lae’zel said seriously, the boy perched on her lap, his small hands gripping her arm as he looked up at her with wide eyes.
“Ready as ever,” Karlach said, her voice steady, though she felt the familiar heat of anticipation thrumming through her veins.
“My wits are sharp, and my mind is steady,” Wyll added.
“I am prepared for the challenges that lie ahead,” Minthara declared, her voice calm and unwavering, her gaze fixed on Zeus.
Zeus nodded, satisfied. But before he could continue, Wyll spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. “On another note, Jaheira mentioned that the small earthquake earlier was your doing, Zeus. She asked me to find out what exactly happened.”
Zeus paused, considering his words carefully. Jaheira had made it clear she was growing tired of his surprises, and Wyll’s summary of her request was more diplomatic than her actual phrasing. Finally, he spoke. “At Grymforge, I found a barrel of runepowder. I sent Glut, Lump, and Bullet to plant it under the cultist troop camp to the west. They detonated it.”
Barcus, who had been tinkering at his table, suddenly stopped, his tools clattering to the floor as he rushed over, his face pale. “YOU DID WHAT?!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall.
Karlach frowned, confused. “What’s runepowder?”
“A secret concoction of smokepowder and gnomish mysticism,” Barcus explained hurriedly, his hands shaking. “A single vial of runepowder is more volatile than an entire barrel of smokepowder.”
“Hells,” Karlach whispered, her eyes wide. “Then it’s no surprise the ground shook. I can’t even imagine what that place looks like now.”
“Do you have any more?” Barcus asked, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear.
Zeus shook his head.
Barcus seemed lost in thought for a moment before he turned and returned to his workbench, muttering under his breath.
Wyll, his face troubled, finally spoke up. “Do you know if my father was there?”
Zeus understood Wyll’s concern . “Your father is too important to have been there. He’s likely in the Illithid colony beneath the towers.”
Zeus words caused Wyll's gaze to drop to the ground .
___________
As the white crow fluttered into the inn, its wings casting fleeting shadows on the walls, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The companions paused, their conversation stilled by the unexpected arrival. The bird landed in the middle of the table with a soft thud, its beady eyes gleaming with an intelligence that belied its avian form.
“Caw, caw, caw!” The crow’s call rang out, not just as a bird’s noise, but with a piercing urgency.
Zeus quickly released in to his system a potion of Speak with Animals . He felt the magic take hold, his ears attuning to the language of beasts.
“Here they are, here they are,” the crow squawked, but this time, the voice was unmistakably feminine, almost eerily so.
All eyes turned to the door as the heavy wooden frame creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in shadows. The Shadar-kai entered the inn with a grace that was both unsettling and captivating, his footsteps barely making a sound as he approached the group. His mere presence seemed to draw the light from the room, making the flames of the nearby hearth flicker in response.
“That’s a Shadar-kai,” Minthara whispered to Zeus, her voice low and edged with caution. “His presence could be a catastrophe in the making... or a boon.”
The Shadar-kai was a figure of austere beauty, his pale skin almost translucent, like the surface of a winter lake. Dark, intricate tattoos marked his face, winding around his sharp features and adding an air of ancient mystery. His hair, a stark ashen white, was slicked back, revealing his pointed ears. His eyes were pools of darkness, lined with kohl, giving him a gaze that felt as though it could pierce through souls. The Shadar-kai exuded a detached calm, yet there was something darker, a shadow clinging to him, as if he carried the weight of the Shadowfell itself.
A long, slender spear was strapped to his back, the silvery head glinting in the dim light. His attire was simple but functional, in dark shades that made him blend almost seamlessly into the dimly lit inn, like a shadow made flesh.
“The murdered lie silent. Will you be their voice?” The Shadar-kai’s voice was as cold as the void, resonating with an otherworldly authority.
“What do you mean exactly by that?” Zeus tone was cautious, prepared for the cryptic nature often inherent to beings from the Shadowfell.
“A woman. A murderer. A perpetrator,” the Shadar-kai began, his voice heavy with accusation. “This woman tended a bar where she took patrons, her friends, into her confidence—promised their secrets were safe with her. Yet she turned their words into knives, stabbing them in the back. They died because of her—and to this day, her victims lie unavenged.”
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As the Shadar-kai spoke, Zeus's mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory. The hidden ledger I found at the distillery... He realized with a start that the Shadar-kai was speaking of the same woman.
“She’s dead—how much more can she pay?” Zeus questioned, testing the boundaries of the Shadar-kai's intentions.
“Death is not the end—merely another beginning. I seek a record of this one’s crime, written in her own hand. Through it, I can summon her spirit—and force her to face trial for her crimes,” the Shadar-kai explained, his tone darkening with the promise of retribution.
“That’s some powerful magic,” Gale interjected, a hint of awe in his voice as he recognized the gravity of what the Shadar-kai proposed.
“Not for one such as I,” the Shadar-kai replied with a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk. He then turned his piercing gaze directly onto Zeus, his tone taking on a more personal edge. “Your soul sparks with justice, with fortitude. This is your chance to bring a murderer to justice. To avenge her victims. Will you take it?”
Minthara leaned in closer to Zeus, her voice a whisper of urgency. “Accept his offer.”
Zeus’s mind was already weighing the pros and cons, but the Shadar-kai’s unflinching gaze left little room for doubt. If he could walk past the harpers patrolling the courtyard so easily he could anytime create incidents , and they were already on edge . “I will—what must I do?” Zeus asked, his decision made.
A sinister smile spread across the Shadar-kai’s lips, a fleeting glimpse of satisfaction. “You will guide me to the distillery, the one she called The Waning Moon. There, I will find the ledger and take it with me.”
“No way we’re taking this guy with us, he’s shady as hells,” Karlach muttered, her voice low but firm. Her instincts were screaming at her, and she had learned to trust them.
Zeus considered the options. The Shadar-kai could indeed be useful, a master of shadows and deceit, but his unpredictability could also make him a dangerous ally. After a moment’s thought, Zeus made his decision.
“No. We will bring it to you,” Zeus stated firmly, watching the Shadar-kai’s reaction carefully.
For a brief moment, the Shadar-kai’s face tightened, his displeasure clear. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference. “Very well then,” he said, his voice icy as he stepped back into the shadows. With a whisper of darkness, he faded from sight, leaving the inn in an eerie stillness.
“This will not end well,” Wyll murmured, his voice betraying his unease.
“He’s kinda… sexy. All that mysterious guy persona—I like it,” Astarion said with a sly grin, causing a few of the companions to either chuckle or shake their heads in exasperation.
The white crow, which had stayed behind, fluttered up onto Zeus’s shoulder, leaning in close as if to share a secret. Its voice was a soft whisper in his ear, “Don’t trust him, he’s lost his mind.”
Zeus stiffened slightly, his mind whirling. She knows I can understand her… This wasn’t just any crow, that much was certain. This crow, with its striking albinism, was something far more than it appeared.
“Tsk,” Lae’zel scoffed, crossing her arms as she glared at the spot where the Shadar-kai had vanished. “I would better move dragon manure than to work with a shadar-kai.”
As the companions settled into an uneasy silence, the weight of their new quest settled over them like a dark cloud. Shadar-kai were known to be mournful and joyless, beings who neither leaned toward benevolence nor malevolence, but instead hovered in a grey area that made them dangerously unpredictable.
________
As the party approached the dock, the never ending night air was thick with the scent of saltwater and decaying wood. The blackened waves lapped gently at the weathered planks. Zeus, raised his hands and cast Walk on Water over the group. The spell’s magic rippled outward, settling over each companion like a soft, invisible veil. They hesitated only briefly before stepping onto the water, the surface bending slightly beneath their feet but holding firm as if they walked on solid ground.
The night was silent save for the occasional distant cry and howls . The group treaded carefully, their reflections shimmering beneath them as they made their way across the inky water toward the Mason Guild building, a dark silhouette against the starless sky. Memories of their battle with the shades clung to their minds as they approached the familiar yet foreboding structure.
Once inside, the sense of decay was palpable. The air was filled with the pungent odor of rotting wood and mold. Corrupted vegetation snaked along the walls, the dark vines pulsing as if alive with some malevolent force. The roof above had partially caved in . An incomplete statue loomed in the center of the room, towering nearly to the ceiling. Its face was still obscured by rough-hewn stone, as though frozen in time, awaiting the touch of a sculptor long gone.
Zeus took in the scene . “We’re going to search the Mason Guild building for anything useful or suspicious,” he declared, his voice firm .
As they ventured deeper into the building, the group’s footsteps echoed eerily off the cold stone floors. Astarion’s voice broke the silence, his usual bravado tinged with a rare hint of uncertainty. “Are Shadar-kai hard to kill?” he asked, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glanced around the shadowed corners of the room. He couldn't shake the feeling that Zeus had been too quick to submit to the demands of a stranger—an unsettling thought that festered in the back of his mind.
“Shadar-kai can’t be killed, not truly,” Gale explained, his tone grave. “They serve the Raven Queen, an entity who can revive them even after death. Agreeing to his proposal was wise. Killing him would’ve been foolish—because then we’d have an immortal assassin hunting us for the rest of our lives.”
Zeus nodded in agreement, Gale’s words echoing the thoughts he had tried to push aside. The weight of the decision sat heavily on his shoulders, and he could see the unease spreading among the group. Even Astarion, usually so composed, seemed agitated, his sharp eyes darting nervously around the room.
“Did that shadow move?” Astarion murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. His hand instinctively moved toward his dagger, fingers twitching in readiness.
The tension was broken by Karlach’s triumphant shout. “Look what I found!” she called out, holding up a piece of infernal iron. The dark, metallic surface pulsed with fiery energy, its power almost tangible in the air around it.
Zeus’s eyes lit up with interest. “Can I have it?” he asked, his voice tinged with a barely restrained eagerness.
“Sure, take it,” Karlach replied, tossing the metal piece to Zeus. She had no use for it now, not with the powers she wielded, burning hotter than ever before.
Zeus caught the iron, turning it over in his hands as he inspected it. The dark metal seemed to hum with a low, almost sinister vibration, and as he held it, he subtly absorbed a trickle of its energy, letting it flow into him without drawing attention. “Can you keep it for me?” he asked, handing the iron back to Karlach, who took it without hesitation. He had no pockets to carry it, and he trusted her to safeguard it for him.
Shadowheart’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of their conversation. “There’s a trapdoor here,” she announced, gesturing toward the floor where a heavy wooden hatch lay half-concealed beneath layers of dust and debris.
Zeus nodded. “We should check around first to make sure there aren’t any hidden surprises.”
They spread out, carefully inspecting the ruined building. At the main entrance, they discovered a grim sight—a pile of bones of various sizes, heaped carelessly atop a cluster of marble blocks. The bones were old, brittle, some of them broken as if crushed under great force. A tarnished plaque lay at the base of the blocks, the inscription barely legible through the layers of grime: Here lies the Grand Mason. His bones and lies exposed.
Zeus’s recalled the details from Thisobald’s ledger, of how the Grand Mason had been inebriated and coerced into revealing secrets that should have died with him.
“Typical for Sharans…” Astarion muttered, his voice thick with disdain as he eyed Shadowheart, half-expecting her to react. But instead of her usual sharp retort, she remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground, a deep frown etched into her face.
After a moment’s hesitation, they moved to the front door, opening it cautiously. The cold night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and decayed vegetation. The tool house lay just a few steps ahead, shrouded in darkness. Zeus’s keen eyes spotted something—a small figure crouched beside a cart loaded with marble. The figure glanced up, before disappearing in a puff of sulfuric smoke. The sight set everyone on edge, but they quickly regained their composure.
To the right and left of the door, two skeletons hung impaled on wooden poles , their flesh long since rotted away.
“Those people didn’t deserve this,” Wyll murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow as he gazed at the remains.
Returning to the trapdoor, they pulled it open. The hinges groaned in protest, the sound echoing down into the darkness below. Zeus conjured a small orb of light in his hand, the silver glow casting eerie shadows as he descended the ladder, one rung at a time. The rest of the group followed, their weapons at the ready, nerves strung tight.
The storage area below was just as ruined as the space above. Shattered pieces of marble were strewn across the floor, corrupted vegetation winding through the cracks in the stone. But it was the statues that caught Zeus’s eye—statues of Selûne, the Moonmaiden, her likeness eerily similar to those he had seen in the Underdark, at the abandoned outpost. Those statues, once symbols of light and hope.
One statue lay at an angle on a pile of broken marble blocks, its empty eyes seeming to watch them as they moved through the room.
As they walked to a rampart that circled around the room, Zeus motioned for the group to stop. He carefully examined the wall, his fingers tracing the cold, uneven surface. After a few taps , he found what he was looking for. He traced his finger in a circular motion as he covered the wall with slime , softening it. With a light push, the wall gave way, revealing a hidden corridor .
"How do you that ? " Gale asked intrigued .
"Landshark mucus. "Zeus responded .
His answer caused Gale to frown . "What ? " He murmured .
Zeus stepped inside first, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Let me check for traps,” he said, his voice low as he tapped along the walls. Finding nothing, he waved the others forward. The corridor to the right ended abruptly, a dead end, so they turned left where an chest lay .
Astarion knelt beside it, his nimble fingers deftly inspecting the lock and the surrounding area. “The chest is trapped,” he announced, pointing to a rusted mechanism hidden beneath it.
“Do we open it?” Karlach asked, her eyes scanning the darkened corners of the corridor, every sense on high alert.
Zeus stepped forward, inspecting the trap with a practiced eye. “The mechanism is broken,” he said , before grabbing the chest’s lid. He ripped it open as if it were made of paper, revealing the contents within—a meager collection of coins.
Astarion let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Why place a trap for just a few coins?” he grumbled, clearly disappointed.
Leaving the chest behind, they continued down the corridor, their footsteps echoing ominously off the stone walls. At the end of the passage, they came upon a set of double doors, reinforced with steel. Zeus turned to the group, giving a silent nod. The meaning was clear: be ready.
Weapons were unsheathed with soft, steely whispers, the air around them charged with tension. Zeus pushed the doors open, revealing a large chamber beyond. Down a short flight of stairs, the floor was etched with the symbol of the Mason Guild—a hammer and chisel.
The chamber was dimly lit, a single silvery ray of light seeping through a crack in the wall to their right, illuminating the space in a ghostly glow. At the far end of the room, a large, rectangular wooden table stood surrounded by scattered chairs, as if a meeting had been abruptly abandoned. But it was the two corrupted trees, growing twisted and blackened from the stone floor, that drew the party’s immediate attention.
Zeus, conjured a small silvery sphere from the liquid that flowed from his body. The orb floated to the center of the chamber, where it exploded in a brilliant flash of light. The shadows recoiled, revealing themselves in their true form—dozens of writhing figures with eyes like burning coals, their very presence radiating malevolence.
Zeus didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he infused his companions’ weapons with holy energy, the blades and maces glowing with a soft, otherworldly light. Karlach and Zeus charged forward, their weapons cutting through the first wave of shadows with ease, the creatures dissolving into nothingness with each strike.
A scream from behind them drew their attention—one of the shadows had teleported behind Gale, its claws poised to strike. But Astarion was faster, his blade flashing in the dim light as he drove it into the creature’s side, felling it before it could harm their friend.
The group quickly regrouped, forming a tight circle with Gale at the center, his staff glowing with arcane power. The shadows circled them like predators, their yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. There were at least a dozen of them, their forms shifting and warping as they prepared to attack.
Zeus moved the silvery sphere above their heads, its light causing the smaller shadows to recoil momentarily. But the respite was brief— their urge to snuff out the living proved stronger.
Minthara and Shadowheart moved in unison, blocking the smoking claw of a larger shadow with their shields. With a shout, they raised their maces high, bringing them down with a combined divine smite that shattered the shadow into a million dark fragments.
“Sing,” Alec commanded, his voice ringing out clear and strong. His sword glowed with a radiant light as a beautiful, ethereal song began to emanate from the blade. The melody wrapped around the party, strengthening their resolve and fortifying their spirits. With a graceful leap, Alec front-flipped over a shadow, his sword cutting down with enough force to crack the stone floor, destroying the creature in one powerful blow before he dashed back to the safety of the formation.
Zeus, formed a greatsword in his hands, its blade glowing with golden light. He swung the weapon in a wide arc, slicing through two shadows at once, their forms dissipating into the darkness. Beside him, Karlach held her flames in check, save for the war axe she wielded, which was wreathed in fiery light. She roared as she brought the axe down in a diagonal sweep, cleaving a shadow in two. The body disintegrated, leaving behind a green orb that clattered to the floor.
Lae’zel, her flaming greatsword in hand, blocked an incoming attack with a practiced ease, the shadow’s claws skidding off the glowing blade. She retaliated with a swift strike, her sword cutting deep into the shadow’s form, but it wasn’t enough to kill it. Astarion, darted in and plunged his dagger into the shadow’s head, snuffing it out with a swift, deadly strike.
Wyll, using his rapier, pushed back a shadow that had gotten too close. He cast Burning Hands, the flames licking at the creature, causing it to recoil, but only for a moment. Before it could strike again, Gale unleashed a bolt of lightning, the energy crackling through the air and striking the shadow down.
One by one, the shadows fell under the combined might of the party, their bodies dissolving into nothingness, leaving only their twisted vestiges behind. The chamber was silent once more, save for the labored breathing of the companions and the faint, echoing melody of Alec’s sword.