Her eyes went wide for a moment as she saw him turn towards the Mind Flayer. It turned to face him just as he held his hands up and she shut her eyes tight.

Through her lidded eyes, the light was still quite impressive. Fortunately it lasted only a moment. When she reopened them, Brand was on the floor, his mind obviously blasted by the thing on the throne. But it was enough. She saw the Mind Flayer obviously hurt and rising from it’s throne, screaming in her mind. But it’s minions already had their orders and it didn’t have the presence of mind to redirect them. She saw Mekelson begin to run towards it, but the thing twitched a tendril and the knight froze.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do. She shifted her mind. She became a kobold. A young, stupid and barbaric kobold. She felt the Mind Flayer trying to touch her and watching her approach, but it was unable to find her mind. She refused to don her human intelligence and the Flayer passed over her. Kreet ran at the thing. She kicked it, talons extended and it grabbed her. Its hands held her tight. It was strong. She didn’t expect it to be so strong. It held her like Brand had held her in their practices, pinning her under it as it’s tendrils encompassed her head. She felt it getting closer, touching her thoughts. In a moment it would have her. She could not kick it. Her tail was on the wrong side. But she could push. It was all she could do.

Against the stone of the dais, her tail shoved as hard as she could. It drove her and the Flayer across the floor. Then suddenly there was no floor.

The thing released her in the scant seconds of free-fall as she watched the rapidly closing light above her, the edge of the pit shrinking so fast. She thought about Brand before she hit the bottom, at once sad for her loss, but knowing he would be okay now. She had saved him. And then she died.

For the first time.

She saw two things. She saw a white light. It was warm and comforting and she was drawn to it. But she saw something else. She saw a black jewel, as black as the light was white. Pure black. It held pain, evil, distress of all manners. She yearned to go to the white light. But a voice was there. It was a voice she’d heard all her life. It was not her mother. It was not her teachers or her friends. It was not even Brand. It was her own voice.

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“No, Me,” it said. “I cannot be comfortable yet. I have to go back.”

“But why? It is so cold there. I don’t want to go back! Please don’t make me!”

“We have to go back,” the voice said, contradicting her. “We have more to do.”

“I DON’T WANT TO! LET ME BE WITH YOU!”

“How can you be away from me? I am you. But now we must get cold again. We must breathe again and love again. Go on. Go to the dark.”

Kreet sighed, metaphorically. She really, really didn’t want to. But she looked back at the black jewel. She didn’t move, but she returned anyway.

She opened her eyes. She hurt in every muscle. Her eyelids hurt. She was in utter darkness, but she was a kobold. She could see. She lay on the bank of a strong underground river, naked as the day she was born. She looked up, but there was no sign of any pit that dropped her here. She looked around, but there was nothing. Then she heard a sound. A voice. Not in her head, but a real sound. It was coming closer.

A troupe of Dark Elves came around a corner and they spotted her instantly. While she had no experience with Dark Elves, she remembered them from her classes at the Monastery. They could have been taken directly from the illustrations she’d seen. Slavers.

“Well,” she thought with resignation, “a kobold’s life usually ends up short or as a slave. I suppose it’s to be expected.”

“You! Kobold! Do you speak?”

“Kreet can talk some Big People talk,” she said, mimicking how she knew kobolds speak in Common - if they ever learned how at all. It would not do to let these Slavers know of her unusual background. Or of Pelor. Yet. Maybe the life of a slave wouldn’t be so bad anyway. And there was always a chance of escape.

She thought about Brand as they took her back to where other slaves awaited. He would look for her, but he wouldn’t find her. She hoped he wouldn’t look for too long, though she knew better. Maybe someday they would meet again, if she lived that long. But she shouldn’t expect it. That was just as well. They were too different. Besides, she did want to have children of her own, and - love notwithstanding - Brand could never give her that. No, best to start her life anew.

She felt the heavy iron neck ring close around her neck as she was shackled to the other slaves and they began to walk…