Evening fell before the group was able to reach the forest. They had to travel out of their way to evade small bands of gnolls along the way; they seemed to have spread across most of the plains of Zastraria by now. As the last of the sun’s light vanished beneath the western horizon, the group settled down amidst some tall grass, hoping it would help mask their presence from any nighttime hunters.

“Perhaps it would have been best to wait until morning to continue,” Irse said. “We could be ambushed in our sleep, and we no longer have Uni‍—er, Rham to keep watch for us.”

“We’ll just have to do it in shifts,” Dhurik replied. “I’ll take first watch, Dogboy second, and you can take third.”

“Why am I being volunteered?” Ithan grumbled.

“There is no need,” Irse interrupted. “I will keep watch through the night.”

“The whole night?” Fenvyre questioned. “You’re going to be exhausted by morning.”

“I will manage,” the cleric responded. She glanced warily at Ithan. He understood her suspicion of him well by now, but there was something different in her eyes now that he could not place. He nodded silently at her before laying back and allowing his head to rest on the ground. He sighed as he gazed up at the cloud-addled sky; flickers of static wove through them as they swirled ceaselessly about.

“I wonder how the hobgoblins are faring against the gnolls,” Bimpnottin commented.

“They’re a tough crowd,” Dhurik said. “They planned to move to one of their other forts, right?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Bimpnottin continued. “I will need to remember to send the chief a message in the morning.”

“You talk too much,” Irse interrupted from her post.

“Sorry,” the gnome and minotaur replied at once. They were silent after that, allowing Ithan to listen to the evening breeze whistle through the grass as he closed his eyes. He felt Irse’s eyes on him as he tried to fall asleep; it was comforting in a way, yet terrifying in so many others. He recalled the days shortly after he first formed his pact with Kiraan, when he still scrounged for food within the kingdom’s borders‍—he had always slept with one eye open, afraid that Varian would find him before he was ready to face him. Strangely, he did not feel the same intent in Irse’s actions as he had in his father’s. The look in her eyes… was it… concern?

Ithan awoke the next morning with a pit in his stomach and tears in his eyes. Despite his dreamless sleep, he felt a strange sense of dread. The sweat coating his body caused him to shiver as it chilled in the morning air.

“Hey, Lava!” Fenvyre called, the loudness of her voice making Ithan wince. “Time to get up!” He tried to roll over to pull himself off of the ground, but his body would not react to his commands.

“I can’t…” he mumbled. Fenvyre walked up to him and leaned down, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she muttered as she stood upright again. “Irse!” she cried, quickly getting the cleric’s attention.

“What is it?” Irse asked as she and the rest of the group approached.

“He’s sick,” Fenvyre replied. “He’s got a fever and he can’t move.”

“Did you let your wound get infected?” Bimpnottin asked. “He got stung by that demon yesterday,” he pointed out when Irse gave him a confused look. Unable to reach up to punch the dwarf, Ithan instead simply glared at him. Irse forced Ithan onto his stomach and pulled the back of his shirt up. She gasped sharply and then sighed.

“You should not have let it fester like that,” she said.

“Let’s take him back to Eleana,” Fenvyre suggested. “She helped us before, right?”

“We do not have that kind of time,” Irse muttered. “We are still at least half a day away from Myth Veri’Shantar, and a demon’s venom is fatal if left alone for too long. No, I will have to do what I can from here.”

“What can we do?” Fenvyre asked.

“Go look for a place nearby where we might be able to relocate,” Irse replied. “If any gnolls happen upon us, we will need to move quickly. Take Ian with you.”

“Why me?” the halfling protested.

“Just come on,” Fenvyre said, nudging his back with a light kick. She and Ian departed into the tall grass, disappearing from Ithan’s view.

“You two should watch for gnolls,” Irse said to Dhurik and Bimpnottin. Bimpnottin nodded and headed off without a word.

“I’ll let Birdbrain know what’s happening‍—” Dhurik started.

“Give me the sending stone,” Irse ordered. “I will explain it to Taer’inar as I work.” Dhurik grumbled, then handed the stone to the cleric and stomped off, joining Bimpnottin in the distance. Irse held the stone up to speak when the others were well out of earshot. “Taer’inar, are you there? Is this thing working?”

“Irse?” Taer’inar’s voice called back through the stone. It was remarkable to Ithan how clear his voice was; it was as if the elf was standing there with them. “Where’s Dhurik? He never reported back yesterday.”

“He is keeping watch,” Irse replied. “Have you found anything yet?”

“The ancient elves kept surprisingly few records about demons. There are a few mentions here and there, but nothing particularly useful.”

“Do you have those records with you?” Irse questioned.

“Of course, but as I just said‍—”

“Look for anything that may be a remedy for demon venom,” Irse commanded.

“Venom?” Taer’inar’s voice shook. “Why? What happened?”

“Ithan is sick,” Irse responded quietly. “We encountered a demon when we were trying to confront the witch, and he was stung by it in the battle.”

“I told you to be careful!” Taer’inar shouted. A loud thud echoed through the stone.

“Focus, Taer’inar,” Irse said calmly. “Now is not the time for lectures. Look for a remedy.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be right back.” Silence followed, and Irse set the stone down on the ground as she began pulling vials and gauze and other medical supplies out of her satchel.

“Aren’t you… a cleric…?” Ithan wheezed. “Can’t you use magic…?”

“We do not fully understand the effects of healing magic on demons,” Irse muttered. “I do not wish to risk further harm to you.” He caught an unusual glimpse of sadness in her eyes as he peered up at her from the ground.

“I’ve found something,” Taer’inar’s voice rang. Irse picked up the sending stone again. “To a standard antitoxin blend add three drops of hyacinth nectar. Mix until the solution is a fine paste, then apply to the afflicted area.”

“That is surprisingly simple,” Irse commented. “Are you certain there is nothing else?”

“That’s all there is,” Taer’inar replied. “I’m going to come and meet you‍—”

“No,” Irse refuted. “You have more research to do. We will be fine. I will take care of the venom here and we will come to you.”

“…Okay,” Taer’inar said after a few moments. “Hang in there, Ithan.”

“…Yeah,” Ithan replied before Irse set the sending stone down next to her. “Irse…” he called.

“What is it?” she asked, her back still turned to him as she took inventory of her supplies.

“Why are… you helping me…?”

“I know what you must think of me,” she muttered. “After all, I am the one who wanted to dispose of you.” She took some herbs from her satchel and began grinding them as she spoke. “So many people get caught up with their emotions when faced with those kinds of decisions. I acted in the group’s best interest. But… that does not mean that I do not care.” She approached him with the finished remedy and knelt down beside him. “This will hurt,” she warned just before she pressed some of the paste into his wound. Ithan winced as Irse muttered an incantation, but the pain did not last long. “That should take care of the venom, at least,” she sighed as she stood up again. Ithan gathered all the strength he could muster to pull himself up to a seated position, but then a wave of dizziness struck him and Irse laid him back down. Some time later, Fenvyre emerged from the tall grass.

“Is he going to be okay?” Fenvyre asked Irse.

“The demon’s venom has taken its toll,” Irse said, “but he should recover, with time.”

“Thank the gods,” she sighed.

“We’ve been spotted!” Bimpnottin shouted from the distance. An explosion sounded shortly after, and smoke began to rise from the fields nearby.

“We gotta go,” Dhurik said as he ran through the grass toward the group. “Gnolls are coming in fast. Captain’s taking care of a few, but there’s a lot more.”

“Grab Mor’lavan,” Irse directed. Dhurik hoisted Ithan up over his shoulder. “Leave the armor, we do not have time.” He tried to lift his head up to see where the gnolls were coming from, but he could not even do that much. All he could do now was wait until his friends brought him to safety so that he could have a chance to recover. Alas, from the sound of the gnolls’ war drums and the growling all around the group, it would not be that easy.

After a while, the group’s movement slowed to a halt, and Dhurik laid Ithan on the ground as the rest of his friends gathered around him, backs to him as they took defensive positions. Gnolls had at last surrounded the group completely, their numbers overwhelming even Bimpnottin’s attempts to make a path through them. Several more demons were among the gnolls.

As the crash of battle began, Ithan’s consciousness finally faded.

❧

Ithan was bound to a large post at the top of a hill when he awoke. The hill was littered with corpses, both gnoll and hobgoblin, as well as a series of large stones. Below him was a pile of corpses, including one of the demons he and his friends had faced. The stench was overpowering, and something about it made him feel weak. After a few moments, he noticed the small band of gnolls glaring up at him on the other side of the pile of corpses. In a panic, he tried to break free, fearing that the gnolls planned to make him into a meal. But he was still unable to move. The gnolls simply watched him struggle, a couple of them laughing at his feeble attempts.

“What is this…?” he muttered through his weariness.

“We meet again, little prince,” a voice called from behind the gnolls. They parted to reveal an old woman‍—an elf‍—standing there smiling up at him. Her frazzled brown hair and soft blue eyes… No… It couldn’t be…

“You…” Ithan mumbled.

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“Not so little anymore, I suppose,” the woman continued as she scanned Ithan; those same blue eyes that had made him feel safe with her before now terrified him. “No, you have grown quite a bit in the past few years. And yet, you are still as helpless as the day we first met.”

“Why are you here…?” he questioned. “Who are you…?” He glanced around quickly, realizing only then that he was alone against the gnolls and their surprise guest. “Where‍—”

“They abandoned you,” she answered. “Left you to die. Just as the others did.” Ithan’s chest tightened. No, they wouldn’t… They had been trying to protect him. Even with all he had done, even with all the danger they faced with him.

“You’re lying,” he asserted, a wave of rage pushing through his fatigue. “What did you do with them?”

“Believe what you will,” she shrugged. “They left you behind. It is as simple as that.” She raised a hand and snapped her fingers, and one of the larger gnolls stood up and stepped forward. “I leave this to you.” She produced a dagger and handed it over to the gnoll. It sneered at Ithan as the woman turned and began walking away from the gathering of gnolls.

“Get back here!” Ithan shouted before the larger gnoll strode up to him and wrapped its hand around his muzzle. It held the knife close to his face, grinning as Ithan tried in vain to break free. Just before it cut into his cheek, though, the gnoll backed away, laughing wildly.

“Why you fear gnolls?” it asked as it quieted down. “You God-King! Gnolls should fear you!”

“God-King…?” Ithan muttered. He had been called that before, but he could not remember where, or by whom.

“She say you need power,” the gnoll said, “but she tell us how to fix.” The smaller gnolls backed away from the pile of corpses as the larger one began walking toward it. It tore open the dead demon’s chest and pulled out its heart. “You eat dead demon. Make you strong again.” It held the heart up to Ithan’s face. Disgusted, he tried moving his head away before the gnoll grabbed his muzzle again. “Eat now,” it growled as it forced Ithan’s mouth open and shoved the organ in. It was like eating spicy mud. He tried to spit it out, but the gnoll held his mouth shut until he swallowed. It was only then that the gnoll cut his restraints and allowed him to fall to the ground next to the demon. As he gasped for breath, a surge of energy rushed through him. He had strength now to pull himself up from the ground. The stench of rotting flesh, horrendous before, now awakened a deep hunger. His senses dulled as he got up onto his hands and knees and crawled slowly toward it. His stomach churned expectantly, and without another thought, he began tearing ravenously into the demon’s corpse like a primal beast. He ignored the presence that chuckled in the back of his mind, digging through the creature’s chest and devouring the remaining organs within. He no longer cared about how it tasted or how it felt making its way into his stomach; he only cared about satiating his unending hunger. When he had finished his meal, he had a moment of clarity as he caught a glimpse of a minotaur running toward him. It was not alone‍—a gnome rode on his back, and a dragonkin and auran followed close behind. What did I just do?

They are too late, Ithan heard his master laugh.

What‍— A sudden pain shot through his back, causing him fall back onto his hands as he gasped for breath.

“Bow before God-King!” the larger gnoll proclaimed.

Stop… please… I don’t want to‍—

I am not giving you a choice.

Ithan lurched forward again in pain as the bones in his back continued to crack and contort. He dug his forehead into the blood-soaked ground as he tried to bear the pain. It shifted to the area between his shoulder blades, and he bowed his back as he felt something trying to burst through the hardened flesh there.

“What’s happening to him?” the dragonkin cried. He managed to stumble to his feet through the pain, a reddish tint beginning to cloud his vision.

You and your “friends” have tried to undermine my will ever since you arrived in that dragonkin village.

“Dogboy! Stay with us!” the minotaur shouted. Pressure continued to build as he struggled to breathe, struggled to think.

But as much as you may wish it were not so, you are still mine.

“Get away!” Ithan roared. With a final violent burst, the pressure in his back suddenly vanished as something finally broke through. He stayed hunched over for a few moments more, panting as he tried to gather himself, but he still found it difficult to collect his thoughts. His master’s call superseded all else, even his own will. He stood upright, and he felt new weight on his back shifting as he did so. If he focused, he could move it willfully. He gazed emptily at the creatures gathered around him, each of their faces displaying various looks of awe and horror.

“He has turned,” the cleric said.

Kill me, Ithan pleaded silently before his mind began to slip away. He spread his wings‍—he was able to do it so naturally‍—and began to fly away.

“Lava!” the dragonkin girl cried as he soared over their heads. The minotaur began running after him, but before long he was out of reach as a second wave of gnolls converged on the group of creatures he had journeyed with.

Farewell. He soared ever higher into the sky, focusing his attention on his new objective‍—the ruins of Zyr’kal.

🙡◊🙣

Ithan opens his eyes to inky darkness. His body is constrained by shadowy tendrils, sinking slowly into the abyss. This is not the first time he has been in this place; Taer’inar had saved him then. But now, he hopes the elf will not come for him.

“Let me fade away,” he says, praying that somehow Taer’inar will hear his plea.

“Soon, Ithan Aranis,” Kiraan calls from all around him. “Your soul shall perish, and your body shall be my vessel. And then, finally, I shall take my place as God-King.”

🙠◊🙢

Taer’inar leaned back in his chair and sighed as he looked to the ceiling of the library. He had spent hours poring through the pages of the thousands of books there, hoping to find some clue as to how to delay or even reverse Ithan’s affliction. Unfortunately, most of the materials he found were simple historical records and severely outdated spellbooks and maps. In one book he found a reference to a powerful demon who once threatened the city, but it was sealed away by the king of that time. He had only heard of the power to seal souls in stories as a child.

“Birdbrain!” Dhurik shouted suddenly through the stone. He sounded out of breath, which was unusual for the minotaur. Taer’inar pulled the stone out from his pocket to listen to Dhurik more clearly. What came next made his heart sink. “Dogboy’s gone,” he panted. Taer’inar’s thoughts raced as Dhurik relayed the events that had occurred in Zastraria. “We got ambushed. There were more of those monsters, and they took him away. By the time we got to him they’d already‍—”

“The gnolls forced him to consume a demon,” Irse interrupted. “It was part of some kind of ritual to hasten the corruption.” Taer’inar’s breath stilled. Kiraan is in league with the gnolls? Is the witch his servant, as well? He tried his best to remain calm even as his heart pounded in his chest.

“H-how are the others?” he asked.

“We’re taking care of a few more gnolls and then getting out,” Dhurik replied. “We’re going after Dogboy‍—”

“No,” Taer’inar said forcefully. “Head to Myth Veri’Shantar.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. We need to regroup.”

“Fine, fine,” the minotaur groaned. “He was headed southwest from here, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Taer’inar responded. When he was sure Dhurik had nothing else to say, he dropped the sending stone onto the table and leaned forward, placing his head between his hands as he stared blankly down at it. He shook uncontrollably as he continued to try to calm himself. He still had no idea how to help his friend, and now he was caught between the promises he had made to both Ithan and Irse. Despair took him for only a moment before he shot up out of his seat, grabbed the sending stone, and marched out of the library toward the home of Eleana. She must know some way to fix this. This cannot be his fate.

🙡◊🙣

Shrouded in shadows, Ithan sighs sadly as he stares into the emptiness of the void in which he resides. A fitting place to meet his end, lost to the darkness of his own soul.

“There is nothing left for me,” he whimpers.

“After all that, you’re giving up?” a voice scolds. An image‍—the version of himself that appeared in the Lord’s Trial‍—forms before him. “They’ll come for you, you know,” it says.

“I wish they wouldn’t,” Ithan growls. “I’m not worth it.”

“Taer’inar thinks you are,” his reflection replies. “Why else would he look at you the way he does?” Indeed, the softness of Taer’inar’s eyes when they last spoke had given him comfort despite the mounting dread he felt from Kiraan’s presence. “He cares for you too deeply to let it end this way.”

Early on in his adventures, when Taer’inar saved him from drowning in a lake deep beneath the surface of Rockfall, Storm had said something‍—

“You wouldn’t dare leave a comrade here. Least of all Mor’lavan.”

Ithan understands now what Storm had known then‍—the bond he shares with Taer’inar runs deeper than he can even begin to comprehend. It is like it has been written in the stars, a sort of kinship that could transcend lifetimes.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” he admits. His reflection smiles.

“That’s more like it.”

🙠◊🙢

Eleana was meditating on the floor when Taer’inar climbed inside her hollow, her eyes closed and her hands pressed together in front of her. In any other circumstance, he would have left and returned later, but he had no time for such courtesies now.

“Eleana,” he muttered, hoping the dryad was not too deep into her own mind to hear him. Thankfully, she quickly opened her eyes and looked up to him; her gaze was softer than the last time they had met.

“What brings you into my home, Taer’inar Volarei?” she whispered, extending her hand out and motioning for him to sit. He did so, crossing his legs and taking a deep breath.

“What do you know of the being named Kiraan?” he asked. Eleana’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How do you know that name?” she questioned.

“It is the name of the being who brought Ithan here,” he responded.

“That is impossible,” Eleana asserted.

“Why is that?”

“Kiraan was sealed away long ago by the last king of this land,” she explained.

“Tell me more about that,” Taer’inar demanded. “There were precious few details in the books that I read.”

“Kiraan was a powerful demon who once very nearly destroyed this city,” she continued. “He was a despicable creature, an entity of pure corruption. Try as they might, the ancient elves could not kill him. So, the last king sacrificed his own life to seal him away instead.”

“They sealed him in some sort of container, correct? Tell me‍—was it an obsidian urn?” Taer’inar asked, his eyes wide, his chest tightening as he awaited confirmation of his fear. Eleana’s own eyes told him all that he needed to know. “I… destroyed it,” he admitted.

“Destroyed it?” Eleana repeated. “You really are a foolish elf.” She stood up and glided over to the other end of the room. “You must seal him away again at once.”

“I don’t have that kind of magic,” Taer’inar protested.

“Well, of course you do not,” Eleana said. “However, if your friend is truly of the royal bloodline, then he may possess that power himself.”

“You think so?” Taer’inar questioned. He had always considered magic to be a learned skill; he never thought that some forms could be passed down by blood.

“He would need…” Eleana spoke softly and slowly, as if trying to process what she was saying in her own mind as she said it. “He would need to seal himself away.”

“There has to be another way,” Taer’inar spat. “I promised I’d help him.”

“That may be the best way to do so,” Eleana continued. “Taer’inar, listen well. Kiraan has made himself a part of the young prince. They are too closely connected now for you to merely extract the corruption from his body.” She sighed as Taer’inar began trembling with rage. “You need to let him go,” she whispered. Taer’inar clenched his fists as he thought on Eleana’s words. To seal Ithan away was better than the alternative, but still he cursed himself for not being able to do more for his friend. With a heavy heart, he took a deep breath and looked Eleana in the eye.

“What do I need to do?” he asked.

“You have little time,” Eleana replied, “but Kiraan has only just reemerged. He may have the strength to overpower the young prince, but he will still need time to return fully.” She floated back toward Taer’inar and waved her hand over the floor. Carvings began to appear, outlining what Taer’inar quickly determined to be a map of Averion. As the magic ceased, Eleana pointed to a region far to the west of what appeared to be Myth Veri’Shantar. “He will be here.”

“How do you know that?” Taer’inar questioned.

“He will be drawn to places of intense corruption in order to refuel himself,” Eleana replied. “This place… was once the domain of the goddess Laht.”

“Laht…?” Taer’inar muttered. “She’s real?”

“As real as any of the others,” Eleana said. A somber expression appeared on her face. “Much of the world forgot about her after her passing. But that is not important right now. Gather your allies and make way for Laht’s domain. Do whatever it takes to bring the prince to his senses long enough to complete the ritual.”

“But we don’t have a vessel,” Taer’inar realized.

“Ah, the vessel,” Eleana repeated. She sighed as she hovered over to pour another cup of tea. “The dwarves would know how to make a new one, but there might not be enough time…” She tapped her spoon against the rim of her cup a few times as she pondered, her face scrunching up. “But even then, they would not be able to replicate the magic that the runes held… Perhaps…” The dryad turned to him slowly, and he could almost see her thoughts racing through her eyes.

“What?” Taer’inar asked.

“Well, the prince is already a sort of vessel for Kiraan, is he not?” she said. “Perhaps he could… yes, that might work.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Seal a piece of himself away‍—the piece that is bound to Kiraan,” Eleana said finally. “Lock it away within his own soul, as one would repress a painful memory.”

“Is that possible?” The feat sounded far too simple.

“It would not be a permanent solution,” Eleana continued, “but it can be done. I am certain of it.” Somehow, Taer’inar knew that her words were without fault, as if she had divined these events as they spoke. His chest swelled with newfound resolve, and he stood up and made ready to leave.

“Thank you, for everything,” he said. He strode toward the entrance of her home, leaving the dryad to her tea.

“Taer’inar,” he heard Eleana say. He turned back to her, her eyes still gleaming. “You will have one chance at this. Make it count.” Taer’inar nodded back at her before stepping out and climbing down from her home before pulling out the sending stone from his pocket.

“Meet me at the library,” he spoke. “We have preparations to make.”