It had taken another couple of hours for the group to reach the abandoned city. Taer’inar’s fevered determination kept him moving forward, marching down the desolate streets toward his objective. The city was entirely deserted‍—no demons, no gnolls, no people‍—which made his mission all the easier. When at last they reached the steps of the great stone pyramid at the center of the city, he glared up at its peak, his fists balled up in anticipation for the coming battle.

“He’s up there,” Taer’inar muttered as Irse stepped up beside him.

“Are you ready?” she asked. Taer’inar nodded slowly, his gaze remaining fixed on the apex. He had faith that they would succeed, that he would not have to fulfill the cruel promise he made to Irse. “Laht favor us,” he heard her say quietly, causing him to look at her with bewilderment. “What? We need all the help we can get.” He chuckled to himself; Apostalite would certainly have been here to help had they not met such an untimely end. He himself silently prayed to Laht, hoping that they would forgive his doubt of them in his time of need. Then, he strode forward, beginning the long climb up the side of the pyramid, his friends quickly joining him. It did not take long before he broke into a sprint, his anxiety pushing him forward.

He reached the top before his friends, giving him a clear view of the apex. Intricate carvings littered the ground, and a sort of ritual circle appeared to be etched into the center of the platform. Large gems hovered above pillars that stood at each corner of the platform, their luster lost from long ago. At the other end of the platform stood a giant throne made of dull steel. The back had been completely broken off, revealing behind it a sort of oval structure. And there, seated in the throne itself, was the form of a creature that after a few moments he recognized as Ithan, grinning at him with a maliciousness that made him squirm.

The antlers on Ithan’s head had grown large enough to rival a stag’s. His ears, too, had grown since the last time Taer’inar had seen him, stretching to more than twice their old length. The wings on his back spread roughly twelve feet wide and were covered in bony plates. His eyes were bloodshot now, his pupils slitted and his irises‍—those deep pools of emerald green‍—turned a repulsive yellow. Taer’inar grimaced at the sight, frustrated that he had allowed his friend to be reduced to such a monstrous form. But it was not Ithan who was in control now.

“You came,” Kiraan said in Ithan’s voice as the others arrived at the platform. “I am so grateful to have such good friends.”

“You can drop the act,” Taer’inar said, eliciting a sneer from Kiraan. He drew his swords and pointed them toward the demon. “I will only say this once. Let him go.”

“You are hardly in the position to be making demands,” Kiraan said, shifting his weight to one side of the throne. “This really is all your fault, you know. You had so many chances to end this. Especially while I was still recovering.” Taer’inar’s hand twitched. Back then, he had so nearly struck Ithan through the heart. Since then, he had been determined to save Ithan from his fate, but had he done the deed then, they would not be here now.

“Do it now, Irse,” Taer’inar said, being careful not to turn away from Kiraan. Irse quickly chanted behind him, light emanating from her hands and branching out toward Kiraan and forming a barrier around him. Still grinning, Kiraan extended his hand and released a pulse of magic, and the barrier quickly shattered. Taer’inar grimaced as the light faded.

“Her magic is not strong enough to hold me anymore,” Kiraan laughed. He summoned Ithan’s glaive as he stood up from his broken throne and advanced toward the group. “I had hoped you would bring the dragonkin girl, but I suppose you four will do nicely.” With a snap of his fingers, shadowy forms began to emerge all around the group.

“What’s the plan?” Bimpnottin asked as he made a ball of fire appear in his hand.

“Let’s try to knock some sense into him,” Taer’inar answered. “Try to figure out a spell that will work on Kiraan,” he said to Irse. The minotaur grinned and tightened the grip on his axe. With a nod, Taer’inar closed his eyes briefly, calling on the magic of his ancestors to aid him in this battle, and soon humming emanated from all around him. The hum of battle. The roar of the ocean. Readying himself, he took a deep breath and charged at one of the shadows, slashing into it with both blades. Dhurik followed suit, cleaving another shadow in two as he barreled toward Kiraan.

“Evil begone!” Irse cried behind Taer’inar. Flickers of light once more drifted around him and Dhurik, deflecting the attacks from the shadows surrounding them. At the same time, blasts of fire shot out ahead of them, destroying some of the shadows closer to Kiraan.

“Piece of cake!” Bimpnottin shouted. Kiraan growled and raised his hand toward the gnome, tendrils of darkness emanating out toward him. “Uh oh.” The darkness lashed out at Bimpnottin like vipers, threatening to eviscerate him. Taer’inar stared helplessly out at him, unable to cast a spell to deflect Kiraan’s attack without being overcome by his minions. As he stood there, though, Dhurik charged through the creatures and leapt in front of Kiraan. The shadows stabbed through his body as they passed, vanishing now that they had found their mark.

“Dhurik!” Irse called. The minotaur stood motionless for a moment before collapsing on the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him. With a fury Taer’inar had never before witnessed from the cleric, she began to glow a brilliant white light, and Taer’inar swore for a moment that she had wings. The light radiated out across the battleground, disintegrating Kiraan’s minions and forcing him to shield his eyes until it passed. When the light faded, she stumbled to her knees. “I am sorry,” she gasped. “That was… the best I could do…” Now that Taer’inar’s opponents were vanquished, he turned his attention to Kiraan, but to his dismay, he had already recovered. He had stepped forward, hovering over Dhurik’s body.

“One down,” he sneered as he raised his glaive, ready to pierce the minotaur’s chest. Taer’inar muttered an incantation, attempting to slow Kiraan down long enough to reach him. But as Kiraan thrust his glaive down toward Dhurik’s chest, Taer’inar knew‍—he was too late.

🙡◊🙣

“They’re here,” Ithan’s reflection states. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Ithan replies. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Break free,” his reflection says. Ithan struggles against the tendrils that ensnare him, but he is unable to tear himself away.

“I can’t,” he cries. “It’s too strong.”

“Don’t give up.” Images of Ithan’s friends flash before him. “You have to break free. They need you.” Another image forms‍—one of his own twisted body looming over Dhurik as he lay unconscious on the ground.

“No,” he says as he again attempts to break free. “Stop this.”

The image of him sneers as it raises its glaive, ready to pierce the minotaur’s chest. As the panic rises in Ithan’s chest, he begins to thrash about, desperately trying to break free.

“I won’t!” he cries. An overlay of Storm’s body briefly passes over Dhurik’s. “Not again!” The sight gives Ithan newfound determination, and he at last forces himself free of the darkness, lunging at the image just as it begins to thrust the glaive down.

🙠◊🙢

Taer’inar stared in awe as Ithan stood panting over Dhurik’s body. He had so nearly slain the fallen minotaur, but as if by some invisible force, his glaive met the ground rather than Dhurik’s chest.

“I won’t…” Ithan muttered. “Not again…” He fell to his knees, still clinging to his glaive as he began to shake violently. After a few moments, his glaive vanished, leaving him to collapse onto the ground next to Dhurik.

“Ithan!” Taer’inar shouted again, running up to his friends as Irse joined him. Irse and Bimpnottin dragged Dhurik away as Taer’inar turned Ithan over onto his back. He was still breathing, if only barely, and to Taer’inar’s relief, he managed to open his eyes.

“Why did… you come here…?” Ithan gasped, his voice wavering as he struggled to breathe.

“Why else? We came for you,” Taer’inar replied, kneeling to comfort his friend.

“You could… have died…” Ithan wheezed. “You could… still…”

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“Do you really have that little faith in us?” Taer’inar laughed. “I told you before, didn’t I? We’re in this together‍—”

“Until the end…” Ithan finished, gazing up at him, tears welling in his eyes. “Thank you… for not… giving up… on me…” Taer’inar smiled warmly, and stood to turn to Irse, who was tending to Dhurik’s wounds. “How is he…?” Ithan asked weakly, too quietly for her to hear.

“Is Dhurik all right?” Taer’inar called.

“Yes, he is just unconscious,” Irse replied, her hands still glowing from her healing magic as she waved them over the minotaur’s chest.

“We can’t move both of them ourselves,” Taer’inar pondered. “Dhurik’s too heavy for just one of us to carry.”

“I suppose we will just have to do this here,” Irse muttered.

“Listen to me, Ithan,” Taer’inar said. “You need to try to hold him back.”

“I’m trying…” Ithan grunted as he winced in pain. “He’s… too strong… Just… end it… while I’m still… me…”

“I’m not going to do that,” Taer’inar continued. “You can do it, Ithan. I have faith.” He grasped Ithan’s hand in his own. “Your ancestor did it, and you can, too. Seal him away.”

“Seal him…?”

“There’s a piece of your soul that’s connected to him,” Taer’inar explained. “But that’s only part of who you are. You can seal that part of you away, and Kiraan will be sealed with it.”

“But how…?”

“You have to concentrate,” Taer’inar said. “Focus all of your energy on containing him. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay… I’ll try…” Ithan’s hand tightened around his, and a pit formed in his stomach as he looked at his friend’s frightened face.

“We’ve got you,” he assured. Ithan nodded slowly, and then closed his eyes. Moments later, Ithan’s chest heaved as he cried out in pain. Irse pulled Taer’inar away and began chanting, and a wall of light formed around Ithan, intensifying in brightness until Taer’inar could hardly see without shielding his eyes. Then, Ithan’s cries of pain became howls of rage.

Ithan writhed on the ground, screaming as the light burned his flesh. He began shouting in some guttural, beast-like language that Taer’inar could not identify. Then, he rose from the ground and began slamming his fists against the wall of light, rage burning in his eyes. This primal fury… it was Kiraan, not Ithan, who had nearly choked the life out of him in that ancient elven crypt. Please, don’t leave us.

He felt utterly defeated. he had risked everything to do whatever he could to help Ithan, and it was all for naught. He cursed under his breath as he dropped to his knees, angry at the gods who he had believed would always be there for those in need for having turned their backs on one of his own.

🙡◊🙣

Kiraan growls as Ithan stumbles to his feet. Kiraan’s monstrous visage appears before him, his dark power threatening to destroy him completely. Ithan is fading away, but he cannot give up now. He must seal Kiraan away.

“You took me by surprise,” Kiraan says. “But now it is time to end this.”

“This is it,” Ithan’s reflection says. “It’s time for you to become who you are meant to be.” Before his eyes, Ithan’s reflection shatters, the resulting light flowing into him. All at once, his determination succumbs his fear, and as he looks upon his foe, something else within him stirs.

“I am Ithan Aranis,” Ithan says proudly, barely recognizing his own voice, “crown prince of Sol’vara, and descendant of the last king of Averion.” The words flow from him so naturally, the surge of confidence allowing him to speak with the force of a born leader. “I may be your vessel, Kiraan, but I will no longer be your prisoner.” At this, a sword made of pure light appears before him. Ithan takes the sword in his hand, and his body is enveloped by the light. Ithan gladly embraces its warmth and is lost in it for just a moment.

“Enough!” Kiraan bellows as he lunges at Ithan, thrusting his glaive out ahead of him. Ithan parries Kiraan’s attack, knocking his master back in the process. Newfound strength courses through him‍—no, this is his own strength. That which was taken from him by Kiraan, reclaimed by the light of his own soul. He charges Kiraan, aiming his blade at his opponent’s chest. Kiraan rebounds, and the two continue to clash until finally, in a burst of might, Ithan slashes through the demon’s chest. Kiraan yells out in pain as light begins to radiate from his wound. “Why do you not vanish?!” He summons a barrage of fireballs, forcing Ithan to jump back and evade them while Kiraan prepares another attack.

Ithan begins to move ever faster, invigorated by his own will to defeat his foe. He strikes at Kiraan’s back, causing another flash of light to begin emanating from him. He leaps away before Kiraan can react, and the light begins to spread past the demon’s wounds.

“I won’t lose to you,” Ithan asserts, standing tall as Kiraan’s breathing becomes ragged. Kiraan roars in reply, sending a massive wave of magic through the ground toward Ithan, black tendrils grasping at his limbs trying to contain him once more. Ithan charges once again at Kiraan, cutting through the darkness surrounding him and forcing his blade through Kiraan’s chest even as he attempts to deflect the blow. After a moment, Kiraan exhales as his form begins to dissolve in the spreading light, a look of utter disbelief on his face. After Kiraan has vanished completely, Ithan closes his eyes and allows the light to take him completely, satisfied now that he is free at last.

🙠◊🙢

“Do not despair just yet,” Irse said, as if answering Taer’inar’s thoughts. He looked quickly back up toward Ithan, and his breath stifled as he stood up. Ithan’s thrashing had slowed; he still had his hands pressed against the barrier, but the hatred in his eyes had faded. The color, too, had changed; the yellow had become less intense, flecks of that beautiful emerald green shimmering in the light. “It seems he has some fight left in him after all.”

“I won’t… lose…” Ithan croaked, tears welling up in his eyes. Some escaped from Taer’inar, too, as his friend struggled to regain himself. The light intensified again, and Ithan bowed in pain. He shook violently as he tried to withstand it, and Taer’inar could not help but admire his resilience. But then, Ithan’s scorched flesh began to peel away, revealing clear skin beneath it. The corruption was melting away from Ithan’s body. With each flash of light, more and more of his body reverted to his original self. His hooves became bare feet. The wings that he had sprouted just days ago sizzled away as specks of dust. His antlers disintegrated into nothing. His muzzle compressed, reshaping itself until it no longer resembled a fox, leaving behind a youthful, regal elven face.

With a final flash, the light faded, and the containment ring disappeared. Ithan collapsed on the ground, and Taer’inar ran to his side. He lay motionless, his eyes closed. All the pain Ithan had endured must have been too much‍—it must have siphoned away the little life he still had left in him. The tears in Taer’inar’s eyes began to overflow, streaming down his face and onto Ithan’s.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Stop crying on me,” Ithan groaned suddenly. Taer’inar leapt back in surprise as Ithan opened his eyes. Ithan grinned wide when he saw Taer’inar standing there, and elation flooded Taer’inar’s heart at his friend’s beautiful smile.

“H-hey,” he stuttered, frantically trying to regain his composure. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts,” Ithan mumbled as he wiped Taer’inar’s fallen tears from his own face. “Where are we…?” He stared at his hand for a moment before returning his attention to Taer’inar.

“Eleana said this place was once home to Laht,” Taer’inar replied as Ithan pulled himself up to a seated position. “Kiraan came here to feed on the corruption so that he could‍—”

“Who’s Kiraan?” Ithan questioned.

“He’s… uh, well…”

“He was one of the demons who attacked us,” Irse interrupted. “He brought you here to lure us into a trap.”

“That doesn’t sound like a demon…” Ithan pondered. “They’re usually not that smart, right?”

“Not all demons are as mindless as the ones the witch commands,” Irse continued. “In fact, she probably saved this one for us after we outmaneuvered her last time.” Ithan nodded slowly, but Taer’inar could still see the wheels turning in his mind. He himself gave a subtle nod to Irse, who smiled gently before turning back to continue her work on Dhurik.

“What happened to him?” Ithan asked.

“Kiraan knocked him out!” Bimpnottin shouted. “But I, the brilliant Bimpnottin Bafflestone, managed to strike him down before he could land the final blow to our good friend!” Taer’inar was glad that the gnome caught on to the act, but he wished he would tone down the theatrics, if only just this once. Regardless, Ithan seemed to be buying it.

“That’s good,” Ithan sighed. “I’m glad he’s okay.” He pressed a hand to his head and closed his eyes.

“What happened?” Dhurik grumbled. Relieved, Taer’inar turned to the minotaur, who had already sat up after Irse had finished administering her healing magic. “Did we win? Where’s Dogboy?” Taer’inar’s chest seized. He’s going to blow our cover.

“Hey, Dhurik,” Ithan called, surprising Taer’inar. “You look like you’ve had better days.” The minotaur’s brow furrowed, but after a moment of staring at Ithan, he burst into a hearty laugh.

“I could say the same to you!” he declared. “Have you looked at yourself lately?!” Ithan tilted his head, his face twisting in confusion, before looking down at his body. Whenever Ithan looked at himself, he seemed to be mystified by his own body. Even though his memories had been rewritten, the echoes of his time as a demon were etched on his soul. It would surely take some time for the strangeness he felt to dissipate.

“You are rather pale,” Irse commented. “Let me see if I can at least get you standing again.” She cast a healing spell on Ithan, and though his complexion did not change, Taer’inar could tell that he already was in much better shape. He pulled his friend up from the ground and wrapped his arms around him tight.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” he muttered.

“Y-yeah,” Ithan stammered. He wriggled himself free from Taer’inar’s grasp, a slight shade of red beginning to form on his cheeks. Taer’inar could not help but laugh, and the redness grew brighter. “Can we get out of here? This place is kind of creepy.”

“I concur,” Bimpnottin said. “Where to next, my minions?”

“We should probably regroup with Fenvyre, at the very least,” Taer’inar said. “I’m sure she’s worried about all of us.” He stepped away from Ithan toward the stairs, expecting the others to follow. When they did not, he turned around‍—Ithan had stumbled back onto the ground.

“I can’t…” he mumbled as he struggled to pick himself back up. Dhurik walked over and hoisted the elf onto his back, and the five of them retreated from the ruins of Laht’s domain together.