Lump, Halsin, Glut, and Lara sat around a modest table in silence. They had just watched Alex and his companions leave, their absence leaving the room with an air of subdued anticipation. The atmosphere was calm but carried an undertone of tension, like the quiet before a storm. Glut broke the silence, his voice low but direct, his gaze lingering on Lara.

"Alex said we're leaving at sunrise," he remarked, before turning back to Lara, resuming the quiet conversation between them.

Lump and Halsin exchanged glances, recognizing the growing bond between Glut and Lara. Both turned toward the door, their attention shifting elsewhere. It was clear they had their own matters to address.

Halsin leaned closer to Lump, his voice curious but kind. "How are you adjusting to… this?" he asked, gesturing at Lump's new human form.

Lump hesitated, his large hands brushing against his cheek, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. "I feel… strange. It's good, though. It’s a relief to walk among people without them running away in fear." He paused and chuckled softly. "Though, some still do. I suppose I can’t help being intimidating."

Halsin smiled warmly. "Your presence is still formidable, my friend. But that is no bad thing. Strength commands respect."

"Thanks," Lump replied, his voice tinged with both pride and uncertainty. His fingers fidgeted absentmindedly.

Their conversation was interrupted by a light tugging at Halsin’s pant leg. He glanced down to see a small mouse staring up at him with beady, intelligent eyes. Lump, puzzled, watched as Halsin crouched down, gently cupping the mouse in his large hands. To Lump, it seemed like an ordinary rodent, its tiny nose twitching and whiskers quivering. But Halsin’s expression darkened as the mouse began to squeak softly.

Lump squinted at the odd exchange. To him, it looked like Halsin was simply staring at a squeaking mouse. "Is it… telling you something?" Lump asked, his tone unsure.

Halsin's jaw tightened as he carefully placed the mouse back on the floor. "We have a pressing matter to attend to," he said gravely, standing up.

"What sort of matter?" Lump asked, already sensing trouble.

"Be ready for a fight," Halsin warned as he moved toward the door with purpose.

Lump hesitated, glancing back at Glut and Lara, who were still engrossed in their conversation. "Aren't we bringing them with us?"

Halsin paused, turning toward the pair. "Glut! Lara! Do you want to join us?"

Lara glanced over her shoulder, her expression one of mild annoyance. "Is it necessary?"

"Not entirely," Halsin admitted. "But it would make things easier."

Lara opened her mouth to respond but stopped as Glut’s hand gently wrapped around her arm. She softened, her voice quieter now. "I’m sure the two of you can handle it."

Halsin smiled knowingly and turned to leave, Lump following close behind. Their destination was a nearby shop called Danthelon’s Dancing Axe.

The moment they entered, two burly half-orcs turned to stare at them, their eyes lingering particularly on Lump. Lump felt their scrutiny but tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the peculiar interior. The shop was a chaotic yet fascinating sight—a treasure trove of adventurers' gear. Weapons of every shape and size hung on the walls, armor gleamed in the candlelight, and rows of shelves held potions, satchels, and trinkets.

Halsin, undeterred by the imposing figures, strode confidently toward the counter, where a blond dwarf greeted him with an air of exaggerated politeness.

"Greetings, saer. Your noble bearing brings a little class to my humble shop," the dwarf said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Halsin leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Greetings, harper Entharl."

At the mention of "harper," Entharl's demeanor shifted. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "You seem a nice sort , so I'll assume the insult was accidental." he muttered before nodding toward one of the half-orcs.

The half-orc opened a concealed door off to the side. "Now go on. The Short Father may send me an actual paying customer today."

Halsin nodded in acknowledgment and motioned for Lump to follow. As they passed through the doorway, they entered a small, dimly lit storage room. The air smelled of wood, oil, and steel.

"Move that crate with the 'X' on it," one of the half-orcs instructed.

Lump and Halsin worked together to shift the heavy crate, revealing a hidden ladder descending into a shadowy space below. Halsin peered down cautiously, noting the faint light glinting off practice dummies, weapons, and crates of supplies.

"This… is more than just a shop," Lump remarked, his voice filled with intrigue as he followed Halsin down the ladder.

As Halsin and Lump descended the ladder into the dimly lit chamber below, every eye turned toward them. The room was tense, the silence punctuated only by the quiet rustle of armor and the distant drip of water. Five figures stood gathered: a halfling woman with sharp eyes, a human woman with a stern expression, a dwarf whose stance radiated suspicion, and a young human man in silvery and blue armor. Their gazes lingered on the newcomers, taking their measure.

At the center of the room, Jaheira stood tall and calm, her presence commanding respect. She offered Halsin a faint smirk, the kind that spoke of experience and unshakable confidence. Halsin stepped forward to her side, Lump looming behind him like a silent guardian.

After a beat of silence, the young man in armor broke it, his voice trembling but formal. "High Harper. May Selûne's Tears shine on this meeting."

Jaheira’s eyes narrowed slightly, her tone measured. "...A very formal greeting, Geraldus. Are you well?"

The young man’s posture stiffened, and he stammered his reply. "Y-yes, High Harper. Standing beneath Selûne’s Tears."

Before Jaheira could respond, the halfling woman stepped forward with a laugh, her tone casual but sharp. "The lad’s just a little nervous, Jaheira. Word travels fast—we’ve heard of your victory against Ketheric Thorm. Impressive work."

Halsin’s nose twitched slightly as the woman spoke. A faint scent of fear lingered in the air, sharp and distinct. It wasn’t just nerves—this was something deeper, something wrong. His instincts screamed that the young man, Geraldus, wasn’t nervous because of Jaheira’s reputation; he was terrified. And he was using “Selûne’s Tears” as a coded message.

Jaheira seemed to pick up on it as well. She offered Geraldus a patient nod. "I understand, Geraldus. Take a moment to collect yourself." Then, turning her gaze to the halfling woman, her tone grew pointed. "And you, Harper—there’s something familiar about you." Jaheira tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "Doesn’t she remind you of our old friend Marcus?"

The name struck Halsin like a thunderclap, the memories flooding back. Marcus, a Flaming Fist soldier who had betrayed Jaheira. He’d seemed trustworthy, only to reveal himself as a servant of darker forces, attempting to kidnap Isobel before Alex cut him down. Now, it seemed history was repeating itself.

Halsin’s hand drifted to his staff, his muscles tensing. He glanced back at Lump, who gave a subtle nod, his expression resolute.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Halsin spun and swung his staff at the halfling woman. She was quick, darting to the side just as the staff whooshed through the air where her head had been moments ago.

"Shit," the halfling hissed, her calm veneer shattering. "Kill them!" she barked, her voice sharp and commanding.

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Chaos erupted in an instant. Lump charged forward, his massive frame barreling toward the halfling woman, who narrowly sidestepped his advance. Halsin cast a quick glance at Geraldus, who had drawn his sword but stood frozen, his hands trembling as he shifted his gaze between Halsin and the halfling woman.

"If you can’t fight, find cover!" Halsin barked, deflecting a bolt that had been aimed at the young man.

The source of the attack revealed itself—a dwarf perched on a raised platform, his crossbow aimed with deadly precision. Halsin didn’t hesitate. He rushed toward the ladder leading to the platform, casting a quick glance at Lump as he did.

Lump was grappling with both the halfling woman and the human woman, their nimble movements allowing them to dodge his strikes. "Bollocks," Lump muttered, his frustration evident as he swung and missed again. He wasn’t used to his smaller, human form, and his strikes lacked the crushing power .

Jaheira intervened, her scimitars flashing in the dim light. She struck the halfling woman with a precise blow, and in an instant, the woman’s form shimmered and dissolved, revealing the twisted features of a doppelganger. The creature hissed, baring its teeth, before lunging at Jaheira with unnatural speed. Jaheira stood her ground, her blades at the ready, her movements a perfect balance of grace and ferocity.

Meanwhile, Halsin reached the upper level, where he found the dwarf lying dead. His neck bore the unmistakable bite marks of beast, its sinewy form crouched in the shadows. The beast hissed at Halsin before disappearing into the darkness, leaving only a faint shimmer where it had stood.

By the time Halsin descended, the battle below was over. The doppelgangers were slain, their grotesque forms lying in heaps. Jaheira stood at the center of the room, her piercing gaze looking around, the displacer beast sat beside her, its glowing eyes scanning the room for threats.

Geraldus emerged from behind a stack of crates, his expression a mixture of relief and shame. He stopped in front of Jaheira, bowing his head. "Did I—did I get it right?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Jaheira’s expression softened slightly. "Selûne’s Tears—it is said no false face can stand beneath their light. An old Harper code, but yes, you got it right. Now, I need your report."

Geraldus looked down, his face pale and haunted. "We had eyes on suspected cultists in the city, as you instructed. We thought we were tracking them, but…"

"They were tracking you instead," Jaheira finished, her tone sharp.

Geraldus nodded solemnly, his shoulders slumping.

The tension in the room thickened as Geraldus stood there, his face pale and drawn, his voice trembling as he finally spoke. "And they’re not just working with the cult, High Harper," he said, his words weighted with dread. "They’re part of it. Bhaalists, I think."

Jaheira’s expression darkened, her tone grim as she replied. "Sworn to Orin the Red, yes." She gave a slow, solemn nod. " Go on."

Geraldus swallowed hard, his gaze darting toward one of the dead doppelgangers sprawled on the floor. "Everything seemed fine," he began, his voice breaking, "until your latest orders. Until we started to search for the Rashemaar. They struck that same night." His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he recounted the memory, his eyes growing distant.

"I woke to one of them… strangling Chelvin while smiling at me—out of her face." His voice cracked, and he cast a haunted glance at the corpse of the doppelganger. "She said—it said…" His breath hitched as he struggled to continue. "That I’d report back to you as normal. Lure you here and… I had no choice." His hands flew to his face, covering it as if trying to hide the shame etched deeply into his features.

Jaheira’s expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm, cutting through the air like a blade. "I’m sure it felt that way, Geraldus. The others were likely dragged back to Orin. Tortured. Sacrificed." She paused, her gaze boring into him. "I do not expect you to die for me. But to risk Entharl? Any citizen who might have wandered in? There is always a choice—and a Harper must be able to make the hard ones."

Her tone turned cold, sharp as the edge of her blade. "Perhaps this isn’t the life for you after all, Geraldus."

The young man’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with despair. "No, Jaheira—High Harper," he corrected himself, the desperation in his voice palpable. "Please. I’m still a Harper. I want to help."

Jaheira studied him for a long moment, her stern expression softening just enough to reveal a trace of pity. "You’ve scarcely signed up, boy, and there’s a war coming. Why did you become a Harper when you could still live as anything else?"

Geraldus straightened, his trembling hands falling to his sides. "I want to fight… for Chelvin. For all of them. So it means something."

Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze heavy with the weight of her own experience. "Death is death," she said, her tone laced with a bitter edge. "To look for meaning in it is foolishness, boy. Childish, storybook nonsense." She paused, letting the silence hang between them before a faint, almost begrudging smile tugged at her lips. "…Exactly the kind a Harper would spout, I suppose."

Geraldus’s breath caught as she continued. "Fine. I have no right to make a choice for you—not when this mess is of my making. I sent Harpers hunting after the cult without considering what it would mean to be hunted in return. Now they are compromised. And if not for you, I wouldn’t even know it." She took a deep breath, her voice softening. "I’m sorry, Geraldus. Harper. I owe you an apology, as well."

Geraldus’s eyes widened, his posture stiffening in surprise.

Jaheira straightened, her commanding presence returning as she gave him a final instruction. "First, Geraldus—you are the last Harper in the city I can rely on. Lay low and rest while you can. I have matters to discuss with my friend here." She turned toward Halsin, her eyes meeting his.

As Halsin took a closer look at her, he realized how much the past month had aged her. Dark bags hung beneath her reddened eyes, and the lines on her face seemed deeper, etched by exhaustion and grief.

"What happened?" Halsin asked, his voice low with concern.

Jaheira sighed heavily, the sound laden with weariness. "Orin. That’s what happened. Since we returned to the city, my remaining Harpers and I have been hunting and killing doppelgangers. They’ve infiltrated everywhere—nobles, the city guard, even the Harpers. And I cannot trust that those who remain aren’t compromised." She shook her head, her voice breaking slightly. "Even now, I’m not sure who I can trust. Except Geraldus."

"Except him," Halsin echoed, his voice steady.

Jaheira nodded before scoffing softly, a faint trace of bitterness in her tone. "I heard rumors about a healer bringing dozens of people back to life. My scouts found evidence that something has deeply unsettled the followers of Bhaal. And I know only one person capable of such things."

"Alex," Halsin said, the name carrying a weight of its own.

"Exactly," Jaheira confirmed. "I sent the remaining Harpers to track him down. The followers of Bhaal and the cultists are like a smoked anthill now—chaotic and dangerous. But tell me, what do you know of a man named Minsc of Rashemen?"

Halsin shook his head. "I’m not familiar with the name."

A wistful look crossed Jaheira’s face as her voice softened. "Minsc fought against Bhaal with me. He’s an old friend—perhaps the oldest. We fought back-to-back more times than I can count."

Her voice caught briefly, and Halsin sensed the deep, unspoken pain behind her words. Whatever bond she shared with this Minsc, it was one forged in blood and fire, and its absence left a hollow ache that she carried silently.

Her words faltered, her expression tightening with pain as she continued. “And the last time I saw him... I left him to die.”

The room grew still as her confession hung in the air. Lump tilted his head, his blunt demeanor softened by concern. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

Jaheira inhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging under the weight of memory. “Before we heard whispers of the Absolute, word reached us of a gathering deep in the Undercity. We ventured there, hoping to uncover its purpose. What we found…” Her voice broke briefly. “What we found was the first dark seed of this madness—a circle of cultists, their ranks bolstered by mind flayers.”

She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. “We might have ended it then and there, cut it off at the root. But before I could send for reinforcements, Minsc charged in. Alone.” Her voice cracked with bitterness. “It was chaos. Tentacles lashed out, and the cultists swarmed like ants protecting their queen. I saw him overwhelmed, dragged beneath a writhing mass of limbs and fangs.”

She paused, her voice tightening. “I had a choice. Stay, and let our knowledge die with us. Or leave him—leave my dearest friend—and live to fight another day.”

“And you left him?” Lump asked, his voice tinged with quiet disbelief. Halsin’s expression mirrored his, a mix of sadness and understanding.

“And I would again,” Jaheira said firmly, though the pain in her eyes betrayed her. “The world demands much from those who dare to defend it. It demands sacrifices, choices that leave scars no time can heal. But sometimes…” Her voice softened, tinged with something like hope. “Sometimes, you get to take something back. Infection, indoctrination, eradication—that has been the fate of everyone the cult has captured so far. But Minsc—” She hesitated, her gaze flickering between them. “Perhaps, with Alex’s help, it need not be his fate as well.”

Before Halsin could answer, the ground beneath their feet trembled, a thunderous explosion shattering the stillness of the night. The three exchanged alarmed glances and bolted from the safe house.

The city street was a scene of chaos. A nearby building roof had been reduced to rubble.

People screamed and scattered in all directions, some clutching their children, others frozen in shock. Flaming Fist soldiers surged toward the disaster, barking orders and trying to restore order amidst the panic.

As they approached the destruction, Halsin stopped a pale, wide-eyed man trembling on the edge of the chaos. “What happened here?” Halsin asked, his voice calm but urgent.

The man’s gaze darted around, unfocused and panicked. “I… I heard an explosion. It shook the ground, louder than anything I’ve ever known. When I turned to look—” He paused, his voice catching as he pointed shakily at the sky. “There was another explosion. And then… something—a black sphere—just appeared. It exploded in midair, like it sucked in everything around it, and then it screamed. Gods, the sound…”

His voice trailed off, his hands clutching his ears as though trying to block out the memory.

“Thank you,” Halsin said gently, though his face was grim as he turned to Jaheira and Lump. He relayed the man’s account quickly, his words clipped with urgency.

“This must be Alex’s doing,” Lump muttered darkly, his voice heavy with dread.

Jaheira’s gaze lingered on the smoldering wreckage, her expression unreadable. “If it is,” she said softly, “then the enemy has far more to fear than they realize.”

Amidst the chaos, a faint thread of determination burned in Jaheira’s eyes.