Lady Jannath clung tightly to Shadow's arm, her trembling fingers brushing against the solid muscles beneath his tailored dark coat. As they ascended the creaking staircase, her eyes darted nervously around the dimly lit hallway. The unsettling calm that had settled over the space only heightened her unease. She glanced at Shadow, her mind racing. 'What power does this man wield to silence the chaos here?' she wondered.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Shadow pressed her against the wall, his body shielding hers with a sudden urgency. A startled gasp escaped her lips, high-pitched and unbecoming of her usual composure. She barely registered the rush of air as a heavy chair hurtled past, crashing violently into the wall behind them.
Her wide eyes fixed on Shadow, who remained unflinching, his ruby gaze scanning the hall with calm precision. She inhaled sharply, catching the faint scent of him—a tantalizing blend of clean musk and something darker, more intoxicating. Her pulse quickened despite herself, and she felt her cheeks flush.
“Are you alright, Lady Jannath?” His voice, low and rich, resonated in her ears, snapping her from her trance.
“Y-yes,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Shadow’s intense gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he stepped back, creating a space that left her skin tingling with the absence of his warmth. He extended his arm to her once more, and this time she accepted it without hesitation, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
They continued up the stairs, their steps echoing in the eerie silence, until a floating skull came into view at the top of the landing. Its hollow eyes glowed faintly, and its jaw hung open as if preparing to unleash some otherworldly curse. Lady Jannath tightened her grip on Shadow’s arm, her nails digging slightly into his sleeve.
The skull’s shriek tore through the air, an unholy sound that sent a chill down her spine. Shadow moved with predatory grace, raising his hand as dark tendrils of shadow shot forth, striking the skull with a force that sent it shattering against the far wall. The fragments dissolved into the ether, leaving only silence.
“Let’s move,” Shadow commanded, his voice calm but firm.
They reached the attic, a space cluttered with paintings and scattered canvases—evidence of Oskar’s restless artistry. The air was thick with an oppressive energy, making Lady Jannath’s heart race.
“Please, stay here,” Shadow instructed, his tone brooking no argument as he approached a barred door to their right.
She hesitated but nodded, watching as he examined the door. There was no lock, no visible mechanism to open it. “Do you know how to get inside?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble.
“No,” she admitted, her frustration evident. “That’s Oskar’s private space. He never allowed me in.”
Shadow’s ruby eyes narrowed as he studied the door. With a flick of his wrist, a green flame ignited in his palm. He pressed it against the wood, which burned away without leaving a trace of ash. Lady Jannath’s breath hitched, fearing the fire might spread, but Shadow snapped his fingers, extinguishing it in an instant.
He turned back to her, his hand extended. “Come,” he said, his voice both commanding and inviting.
She hesitated, her heart pounding. Her mind screamed at her to maintain decorum, to remind him of her marital vows, but her body betrayed her, drawn to him by an inexplicable force. Taking his hand, she allowed him to guide her into the room.
The space within was both haunting and mesmerizing. A massive painting dominated the room, depicting a woman—smiling, serene, and hauntingly mesmerizing. At the base of the easel lay a chalk-drawn sigil, its intricate lines glowing faintly with an unnatural light.
“What in the gods’ name?” Lady Jannath whispered, her voice trembling as she took in the scene.
Shadow knelt by the sigil, his fingers tracing its lines with practiced care. “Necromancy,” he muttered darkly.
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oskar is no necromancer,” she protested, her voice rising with desperation.
Shadow’s gaze lifted, sharp and penetrating. “Perhaps not,” he said, his voice measured. “But someone has tampered with forces they do not understand.”
He moved to a chest tucked into the corner, its surface worn and locked. With a murmured incantation, the lock clicked open, and Shadow retrieved a folded letter from within. He scanned its contents before handing it to her.
Lady Jannath unfolded the parchment, her hands trembling as she read:
Dearest Mssr Fervas,
I so appreciated the desperation of your correspondence. Heartbreak can impose such a terrible burden. In my humble role as an interlocutor with the spirit realm, I believe I might be able to offer you some reprieve.
Bring this letter to my mansion near the seafront, and together we will see if the dead have peace to offer you.
Yours in spirit,
Mystic Carrion
PS. The door is regrettably stubborn, so you must speak its preferred words: Secreta mortuorum.
PPS. I may even consider a discounted rate if you’re willing to recommend my services to Lady Jannath’s well-coined kinfolk.
The implications were chilling. As her eyes lifted to meet Shadow’s, she found herself once again ensnared by his piercing gaze. His presence was magnetic, his aura a tantalizing mix of danger and allure.
“It seems we have uncovered a deeper mystery, my lady,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down her spine.
Before she could respond, Shadow’s hand ignited with green flame once more. He pressed it against the painting, its form twisting and darkening as the canvas burned away to reveal the grotesque visage of a corpse beneath. The room trembled as a resonating wail echoed around them.
Lady Jannath instinctively clung to Shadow, her fingers digging into his arm as she pressed herself against him. Her breaths came in short gasps, her composure utterly shattered. “What… what have you done?” she whispered.
Before he could answer, a ghostly figure materialized from the painting, its ethereal form radiating a malevolent energy that chilled the air. Shadow stepped forward, his body a protective shield between her and the specter. His ruby eyes glowed brighter, and for a brief moment, Lady Jannath felt both fear and an undeniable desire, her heart caught between terror and fascination.
The ghost had a hauntingly beautiful appearance, her translucent form glowing with an eerie blue light that cast faint shadows across the room. Her hair, shoulder-length and gently wavy, seemed to flow as if caught in an unseen breeze, its spectral strands shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. Her eyes glowed with an intense, unnatural luminescence, their pale blue light piercing and unblinking, filled with a sorrowful rage that seemed to radiate from her very being.
She wore a tattered, spectral gown that clung to her form, the fabric shifting as though alive, with faint patterns of lace and embroidery that hinted at a life of elegance long past. The gown’s ethereal texture shimmered faintly, revealing glimpses of the wooden floor beneath her, as if her presence wavered between this world and the next.
Her posture was tense, her shoulders slightly hunched as she leaned forward, exuding an air of both defiance and desperation. The sharp angles of her face, accentuated by the ghostly glow, were frozen in an expression of anger mixed with anguish, her lips pressed tightly together as if holding back a scream. Despite her unearthly beauty, there was an undeniable menace to her presence, a chilling reminder that she was no longer bound by the constraints of mortality.
The spirit clutched her chest, her voice filled with rage, “Oskar... Where is he? Where is he?” Her eyes darted frantically around the room, wide with despair. Before anyone could answer, the ghostly figure sank through the floor, her glowing form flickering with an unnatural light.
Lady Jannath’s mouth opened, as if to speak, but her words caught in her throat. Before she could compose herself, Shadow’s dark magic enveloped them all. In an instant, the oppressive atmosphere of the attic was replaced by the familiarity of her bedroom. The ghost now stood before Halsin and Lump, her glowing eyes locked on Oskar, who had scrambled to his feet and was now cowering behind the two tall men.
The ghost’s head snapped toward them, her voice a piercing shriek. “Who are you? Get out. GET OUT!” The force of her command reverberated through the room, shaking the walls and extinguishing the candles in a rush of cold air.
Oskar stepped forward, his voice cracking under the weight of his sorrow. “Please... Kerri, my darling, listen to me—”
Kerri turned her wrathful gaze on him, her voice trembling with fury. “You brought me here. YOU DID THIS!” Her translucent form crackled with energy as her anger surged. Her eyes darted between Halsin, Lump, Shadow, and Lady Jannath, her voice growing colder. “DO NOT INTERFERE. He’s coming home with me.”
Shadow stepped forward, his ruby eyes steady as they locked onto hers. “We can resolve this peacefully,” he said, his tone calm but firm.
Kerri sneered, her spectral form flickering. “Another one who wants to control me? I’ve had enough.” Her gaze snapped back to Oskar, her voice dripping with disdain. “He called me here. Trapped me. Pathetic, childish little boy.”
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Oskar’s voice broke as he tried to reason with her, his face pale with guilt and regret. “I only wish to explain myself. To make you see how—”
“NO!” Kerri’s scream cut him off, her voice raw with anguish. “Enough of your whining. Enough. Selfish, arrogant bastard of an artist. I wanted to be left in peace.” Her voice cracked, revealing the deep sadness beneath her anger.
Halsin stepped forward, his expression kind and his voice steady. “Please, Kerri. Tell us what happened to you.”
The ghost’s glowing form trembled, her anger momentarily giving way to bitterness. “And how does that help me? Or is it just to help him? Why does everything always have to revolve around Oskar Fevres?”
“Oh, my sweet Kerri. What did I do to you?” Oskar’s voice was barely a whisper, choked with tears as he clutched his chest, her sharp words cutting him deeper than any blade.
“Save your tears for the Ethereal Plane,” Kerri snapped, her tone cold and dismissive.
Shadow’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t the real you,” he said, his tone measured, yet compelling. “The Kerri Oskar spoke of was kind and gentle.” His words carried a weight that seemed to pierce through her rage.
Kerri’s form flickered, her glowing light dimming. Confusion clouded her spectral features. “What are you saying? You’re trying to confuse me. It’s so hard to think. I don’t remember...”
Oskar took a hesitant step forward, his hands trembling. “Kerri, my sweet... my darling... I just need to know that what you did... that it wasn’t my fault.” His voice cracked, his vulnerability laid bare.
Kerri’s aura wavered, her ethereal form flickering as though caught in a storm. “Why am I here? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be.” Her voice was no longer filled with anger but with a lost, haunting sorrow. She seemed to struggle against the weight of her own existence, the confusion evident in every flicker of her form.
Halsin’s deep, steady voice broke the silence. “No more harm will come to you by sharing your story. But it could help Oskar. Please.”
Kerri stilled, her glowing eyes narrowing as she regarded him. Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with bitterness and exhaustion. “Fine. If Oskar wants the truth, he can have it: we were a fling, nothing more. My decision had nothing to do with him. I killed myself because I was fucking sad. All the time.” Her voice cracked as she began to sob, her spectral form trembling with raw emotion. “Oskar finds it easier to imagine a world where women kill themselves over him than one where they have their own bloody problems.”
Tears streamed down Oskar’s face as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kerri. I had no idea. But I... I was truly not to blame?”
Kerri’s form began to fade, her voice softening as she spoke her final words. “No, you weren’t. So you and your poxy paintings stay away from me. We’re done, Oskar. Over. Now let me rest in bloody peace.”
With that, her ethereal form scattered like fireflies, the glowing fragments dissolving into the air until nothing remained. The room fell silent, the oppressive weight of her presence finally lifted. Oskar collapsed to his knees, his sobs filling the empty space she had left behind, while the others stood in solemn silence, the gravity of her words echoing in their hearts.
Shadow’s ruby eyes dimmed slightly as he turned to Lady Jannath, who stood motionless, her face pale and her hand clutching her chest. Lump scratched his head awkwardly, while Halsin placed a comforting hand on Oskar’s shoulder.
Oskar’s shoulders slumped as he muttered, “Gods, what a mess I’ve made.” His voice was low, filled with a raw, trembling regret. He turned his gaze to Lady Jannath, but his words caught in his throat when he saw her hand wrapped around Shadow’s arm. Still, he forced himself to continue, his words faltering. “My sweet Firelia... I’ve been a rotten fool, haven’t I? And yet, you never left my side...”
Lady Jannath’s chest rose and fell as she took a deep, steadying breath. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met his. Her expression, once soft with sorrow, hardened into one of quiet resolve. “Oskar,” she began, her voice trembling but resolute, “I want you out of my house in ten days.”
Oskar froze, his face paling as the weight of her words sunk in. “We... we’re divorcing?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands trembling at his sides.
Lady Jannath nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line as her tears finally spilled over. “Yes,” she said, her voice breaking under the strain of her emotions. “We’re done, Oskar. I can’t do this anymore.”
Oskar opened his mouth as if to protest, but no words came out. His gaze fell to the floor, his posture crumbling under the weight of her decision. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
“Just get out, Oskar,” she repeated, her voice barely holding together as it cracked. “Please. Just... go.”
Oskar’s shoulders sagged further, and without another word, he dragged his feet toward the door. As he passed Halsin and Lump, who were standing silently in the doorway, neither man moved nor spoke. They simply watched as the once-proud artist shuffled out, his presence shrinking until it disappeared entirely.
The door closed with a soft thud, leaving the room eerily quiet. Lady Jannath’s composure shattered as a sob broke free from her lips. She brought her trembling hands to her face, trying to stifle the sound, but the weight of her emotions was too great.
Shadow’s crimson eyes softened as he watched her crumble. He shot a sharp, unspoken glare at Halsin and Lump, who exchanged a glance before nodding and stepping out of the room. They closed the door behind them, leaving Shadow and Lady Jannath alone in the dimly lit chamber.
She sank onto the edge of her bed, her body trembling as she wept into her hands. Her shoulders heaved with each ragged sob, and her normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen. Shadow moved to her side, his movements deliberate yet gentle. He knelt before her, his dark coat brushing against the floor as he reached out to place a steadying hand on hers.
“Firelia,” he said softly, his voice low and calming, “you’ve given so much of yourself to him. It’s not your fault he didn’t cherish it.”
Her hands fell away from her face as she looked down at him, her tear-streaked cheeks glowing faintly in the firelight. “That arsehole,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. “I gave him my whole heart, Shadow, my everything. And still... it wasn’t enough. What did I do wrong? What’s so wrong with me?”
Shadow’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, his crimson gaze locking onto hers. “Nothing is wrong with you,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet intensity. “You loved with everything you had. That is not a fault—it’s a strength. His failure to see that is his own weakness, not yours.”
Her lips quivered as more tears threatened to spill. She wanted to argue, to reject his words, but the conviction in his tone made it impossible. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping his as though he were the only solid thing in a crumbling world.
Shadow’s expression softened further as he spoke. “Strength isn’t about never breaking, Firelia. It’s about finding the will to stand again after you’ve fallen.” He paused, his voice growing even softer. “And you—you have that will. I see it in you.”
Her breath hitched as his words settled over her, a warmth blooming in her chest despite the pain. Without thinking, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. The proximity was electric, the space between them charged with unspoken emotions.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice trembling but sincere. “Thank you for being here.”
Shadow’s lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile. “Always,” he said simply, his voice a promise.
For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of her breathing as it began to steady. Shadow remained kneeling before her, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm of her emotions.
Lady Jannath clung tightly to Shadow's arm, her trembling fingers brushing against the tailored fabric of his coat. The warmth of his presence contrasted sharply with the chill of the room, grounding her amidst the chaos of her emotions. Her breaths were uneven, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to piece together the meaning behind his words and the events that had led to this moment. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the mystery of this enigmatic man who exuded both power and charm in equal measure.
Drawing in a shaky breath, her voice wavered as she finally asked, “Why are you here? I mean... truly, why did you and your companions come to my home?”
Shadow’s crimson gaze met hers, steady and unyielding. For a moment, silence stretched between them, his expression unreadable as though he were carefully weighing his words. When he spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, a quiet strength beneath the velvet tones.
“We’re monster hunters,” he began, his words carrying a weight that settled heavily in the air. “That’s why we’re here. My companions—Halsin, Lump—and I, we rid the world of those things that don’t belong. Creatures that prey on the innocent. Monsters, both human and otherwise.”
Her brows furrowed as she processed his words. “Monster hunters?” she repeated, her tone tinged with disbelief, though her grip on his arm tightened instinctively.
Shadow nodded, the hand resting over hers radiating a comforting steadiness. “In the Lower City, we recently killed a powerful undead—a mummy lord known as Mystic Carrion. He posed as a savior, offering his services to the desperate and the wealthy alike, only to ensure their dependence on him by creating the very problems they sought him out to fix. For a price, of course—a steep one.”
He paused, his gaze growing darker, sharper. “But even after we ended him, his influence lingered. That’s what brought us here—to ensure his schemes didn’t extend further, to help those who might still be suffering under his shadow.” His voice softened as his eyes bore into hers. “That brought us to you.”
Lady Jannath stiffened, her lips parting as a flicker of unease passed through her. “And... have you found what you’re looking for?” she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Shadow’s nod was solemn. “Yes. Oskar summoned Kerri's spirit using Mystic Carrion’s guidance.” His tone was measured, almost clinical, but there was a flicker of compassion in his eyes that softened the blow of his words.
Lady Jannath’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze dropping momentarily. “I see...” she murmured, her voice trailing off as her mind churned with questions.
Shadow straightened slightly, his next words carrying a grave intensity. “But that’s not all. There’s something far worse at play in the Upper City.”
Her pulse quickened, and she leaned closer to him unconsciously. “Worse?” she echoed, her voice trembling.
Shadow leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming but reassuring as he spoke in a near whisper. “There is a nest of powerful monsters—hags—hidden among the city’s elite. They’re planning something catastrophic, something that could bring ruin to Baldur’s Gate.”
Her breath caught, and she clutched his arm tighter. “Hags? Here? Among us?”
“Yes,” Shadow confirmed, his voice steady but grim. “And their influence may have already spread. They’re cunning, weaving their schemes through lies and promises, ensnaring those who are unaware. We don’t yet know who among the Upper City has fallen into their web, but that’s why we must act carefully.”
Lady Jannath’s hand flew to her chest, her heart racing as the gravity of his words sank in. “And what do you need from me?” she asked, her voice fragile but resolute.
Shadow held her gaze, his crimson eyes unwavering. “Your silence,” he said firmly. “You must not speak of this to anyone. We can’t risk alerting the hags or their allies before we’re ready to strike. Until we know who we can trust, secrecy is our strongest weapon.”
Her brow furrowed as she wrestled with the implications. “You think someone close to me might be... involved?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“It’s possible,” Shadow admitted, regret flickering in his eyes. “And I won’t risk putting you in danger by revealing too much. But your silence could save lives—including your own.”
Lady Jannath’s hand lingered on his, her fingers trembling. For a long moment, she was silent, her eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. But all she saw was his unwavering resolve, the quiet strength that had carried her through so much already.
“I don’t know why,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly, “but I trust you. I’ll do as you ask.”
A faint smile touched Shadow’s lips, sincere and grateful. “Thank you,” he said, his voice carrying a rare warmth that eased the tension in her chest.
As the firelight danced around them, Lady Jannath felt the faintest glimmer of hope take root in her heart. Though fear still coiled within her, Shadow’s presence gave her something to hold onto—a sense of security in the face of the unknown.
Finally, Shadow spoke again, his voice steady yet firm. “We need to gain access to the Upper City to stop them. And, Firelia, you’re the only one who can help us.”