We had made our way back to Umbralshade, with Reynfred largely remaining unconscious throughout the journey. Whenever he showed signs of waking, or even when he didn’t, the Gith delivered a sharp backhand to ensure he remained out cold, much to our amusement. None of us harbored any sympathy for the arrogant prick. Indeed, compared to what Tramatis had in store for him, our treatment was merciful. Reynfred’s true reckoning awaited, promising a fate far grimmer than anything we could administer.
As I neared the throne room, faint cries reached my ears, unmistakably Lyra’s. A surge of panic raced through me—were we too late? Pushing past the others, I burst into the room to find Halsin tenderly dabbing Lyra's forehead with a damp cloth, her cheeks streaked with fresh tears. Behind him, a Mosswhisper Shaman held a potion, the cure, just inches from her, and yet he withheld it. Rage consumed me as I realized how close her relief had been to her. As Tramatis waited for payment, her suffering was used as a cruel leverage, while her salvation lingered agonizingly close.
Reynfred was unceremoniously dumped onto the ground at Tramatis' feet, his heavy landing pulling me briefly from my seething anger. Just as my anger began to resurface, Tramatis gave a nod to the Shaman who hurried to Lyra's side and began administering the potion. As the healing elixir took effect, Lyra’s cries of pain echoed through the air, each blister healing with startling rapidity, each scar fading before our eyes. The potion's progress seemed to intensify her discomfort, and for a harrowing moment, her agony was deep as if her very soul was being tormented.
Gradually, her writhing eased, and the pain subsided, leaving behind flawless, shimmering skin where wounds had once marred her. With Halsin’s gentle assistance, Lyra opened her eyes and sat up, though he advised her to take it easy and regain her strength with rest and possibly a nourishing meal. As she scanned the room, her gaze met mine, flickering with a hint of tears before she offered a grateful smile and mouthed ‘thank you’. An intense sense of relief washed over me, and I returned to her smile with a playful wink.
Reynfred groaned, struggling to regain his senses as he lay sprawled on the floor. His eyes flickered around, assessing his predicament before he cursed vehemently, “Bastards!” he spat. “You just wait until I am up, your gonna pay!” My anger flared, fueled by the torment Lyra had suffered while we pursued this fool. I clenched my teeth in fury.
Catching Tramatis' eye, “May I?” I glared at Tramatis. He nodded and gestured expressively, granting me leave to do what I wished. I stepped forward and delivered several forceful kicks to Reynfred's stomach, channeling my pent-up rage into each strike. Reynfred was reduced to coughing fits, his earlier bravado silenced. I ran my fingers through my hair and exhaled deeply, “Thank you.” I nodded at Tramatis.
"You are the least of his worries, my child," Tramatis intoned, his voice resonating in our minds, a chilling reminder of Reynfred's impending doom.
“What a…do you have planned for the fucker?” Karlach asked, her eyes fixed on Reynfred.
Reynfred's fate would be harsh and unyielding no doubt, I thought to myself, exacted in the very nursery he had wronged.
Tramatis declared for all the hear “He will be taken to the sporeling nursery where, while still alive, his body will serve as a vital source of nourishment for the nascent sprouts. As he lays amidst the moss, becoming entwined with the plants and fungi that will burrow into his flesh, anchoring him firmly in place, he will sustain the young he brutalized. Brood mothers will carefully place their sprouts amidst the flourishing vegetation on his body, harvesting them as they mature into sporelings. This cycle will persist for 60 years, after which, once his body expires and he is of no further use, I will resurrect him as a spore servant—a mindless drone tasked with guarding the nursery he once harmed. This ongoing punishment, devoid of any merciful intervention from my colony, will be his retribution for the devastation he has inflicted.” I harbored no illusions about the possibility of mercy; Reynfred would be denied even the slightest respite from pacifying spores. Every moment of his prolonged punishment would be a stark, unrelenting agony.
“Oey bad luck mate, that’s a bout of what we call fuck around and find out” Karlach grinned. Reynfred's face was ghostly pale, terror etched into every line as two Myconid brutes seized his arms. They dragged him towards the nursery, his screams reverberating through the cavernous expanse of the Underdark. Tramatis sat back in his throne, once again curiously turning his head towards our party.
“Now that that's settled,” I said to Tramatis, urgency in my tone, “we really must be on our way. We have a boat to catch, a lost city to discover, and I’m sure other... ech favors to fulfill.” I crinkled my nose, eager to leave. Lyra stepped up beside me, nodding at Tramatis.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice hoarse and strained as if each word pained her. Tramatis acknowledged her with a nod, then fixed his gaze on me, sensing the impatience that pulsed through my words.
“Before you leave, child, do you hear the call whispering across the darkness?” Tramatis asked, his voice dropping to an ominous tone. I paused, weighing whether to reveal my connection to the book. Before I could answer, Tramatis leaned in, his gaze piercing as his voice whispered through my mind. “In a city silent and lost, where life was both taken and revived at great cost, a book awaits, eager to be found. Its fate to you, sealed and bound. Two glowing orbs, green as spring, hold a peril both dark and grim. Seek this tome where shadows play—beware of the creature and its dreadful bay.”
“A book, how interesting.” I feigned ignorance, curiosity edging my voice.
“Abyssmourn Deep was a thriving city long ago,” he continued, his voice low and heavy with the weight of memories. “Bustling marketplaces and the harmonious clatter of daily life once echoed through its sprawling caverns. Yet, the city's vibrant sounds were silenced when a dark tome was uncovered in an ancient, forgotten chamber deep beneath the urban sprawl. This book heralded the arrival of an evil red wizard, a Thayen necromancer. Buildings that once echoed with laughter and commerce crumbled and were abandoned; their walls marred by dark sorcery. Abyssmourn Deep cries out to be freed from its legacy of ruin and silence—a cry not quite as loud, I fear, as the wicked book that cries for its vile master. Find the book, free the city from its heritage of terror.”
"Another favor already?" I said with a roll of my eyes, feigning disinterest as best as I could. Tramatis studied me for a moment longer, his gaze probing, before he turned back to his throne. Quickly, I grabbed Lyra's arm and steered her toward the door. "Off we go, Darling," I announced lightly. Lyra shot me a quick glance but continued towards the door, the others trailing behind us.
As we journeyed back toward Ebon Lake, I remained vigilant, observing Lyra closely. The Potion of Supreme Healing she had taken was undeniably potent, capable of mending severe physical ailments almost instantly. However, its strength came at a significant cost. These potions sapped the user's own magical reserves or, for those without magic, their physical vitality. Though Lyra's blisters, burns, and scars had vanished, leaving her outwardly restored, the toll was evident. She appeared markedly pale and bore the exhausted look of someone deprived of sleep for countless nights. Her eyes, typically alive with a tempest of swirling magic, now seemed as depleted as a well run dry, stripped of its vital waters.
"I'll be fine, you know," Lyra assured me with a smile, her voice a raspy whisper.
"Of that, I have no doubt, my sweet," I replied, mirroring her smile. "However, might I suggest refraining from casting the most lethal spell in your arsenal next time? We can't have you draining all your magic, can we?" Before she could retort, I added, "Besides, I don't keep you around for your company," my grin widening as I teased her.
"Just for my looks then? Or perhaps for my remarkable talent in rescuing you from the jaws of death?" she whispered back.
"Rescues from trouble you caused don't count, darling," I said, laughing as Lyra gave me a playful elbow. The remainder of our journey was marked by silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of our footsteps and the renewed stirring of creatures in the darkness around us. This stillness enveloped us until we arrived at the docks, where the Dwarf boat master, absorbed in his preparations, was readying his boat for launch.
“I had a feeling you’d be back,” he said, not bothering to look up. “You’ve brought the payment, I presume.”
I presented a small bag containing the 2,000 coins he had requested, giving it a gentle shake to let the coins jingle enticingly. “Of course, as promised.” The sound of the coins immediately captured the dwarf's interest. He ceased his tasks and approached; his gaze locked on the bag. Snatching it from my grasp, he weighed it thoughtfully in his right hand, his expression one of careful calculation. After a moment, a satisfied nod confirmed his approval of its heft.
He loosened the drawstring and plunged his hand into the bag, extracting a single coin. He examined it meticulously, sniffed it, and then bit down on it. Convinced of its authenticity, he cast a brief glance at our party, reassured.
"Welcome aboard the Shadow Skimmer," announced Captain Brarsen Greycoat as we stepped onto the deck. "There’s but one rule: no funny business, what I say goes. You'll follow orders precisely and promptly, or you may just find yourself swimming with whatever creatures call these depths home." He gave each of us a stern look to ensure the message sank in. "Keep your eyes peeled on the water as we cross the lake; its inhabitants sometimes venture out of their usual haunts. And keep the chatter to a minimum—the lake likes its quiet, and so do I. Especially you, Mr. Wizard," he added, fixing his gaze on Gale. "I can always tell the talkative ones." Gale, clearly wanting to contradict the captain’s assessment, remained silent, though his expression spoke volumes of his irritation.
I couldn't help but smirk as I walked past Gale, who was still simmering from the captain’s earlier comments. The captain's vessel, the Shadow Skimmer, was a sight to behold. It carried an otherworldly allure with its dark, eerie craftsmanship, making it ideal for navigating the treacherous Ebon Lake. The ship featured a large, hollow circular hull that resembled a dark moon drifting across a twilight sky, crafted from aged, pitch-black sable wood that had weathered numerous voyages. The wood's surface was rugged, etched with the scars of time.
The Shadow Skimmer was steered through the murky lake waters by a series of sharp, fin-like rudders arranged along its bottom and sides. Above, the boat was rigged with an intricate network of ropes and modest masts, enabling it to be sail-driven using the magic of infused winds. The sails themselves were as dark as the void, designed to keep the boat inconspicuous and silent as it slipped across the lake.
The boat’s upper structure included a cabin and a deck level that provided limited shelter and several vantage points. Small, round windows dotted the cabin, allowing those inside to survey the surrounding waters without revealing themselves to the lurking dangers of the lake. I smiled, marveling at the ship. It was engineered for stealth, and true to its name, the Shadow Skimmer was shaped and built from materials that dampened noise, ensuring a quiet passage that would not disturb the ominous creatures dwelling beneath the lake's surface.
Captain Greycoat assumed his position near the helm, casually propping his feet upon a crate as he guided the ship into the quiet waters. I settled on a bench by a cabin window, keen to watch the lake’s surface as we progressed. Lyra, glancing at the bench and then at me, seemed to be considering it as a spot for rest. With a nod from me, she quickly joined, leaning back against the cabin wall and closing her eyes. Within moments, she drifted off, her head gently tilting towards my shoulder.
Recognizing how crucial her rest was, especially if we were to encounter any lake denizens, I made every effort to ensure her comfort. Carefully, I slid my arm around her, drawing her closer. Lyra, responding even in her sleep, sighed contentedly and shifted her position, nestling her head into my lap and curling her feet onto the bench. I then draped my arm across her waist, securing her in place, allowing her to deeply relax and recover in the safety of my embrace. This peaceful moment provided her with the much-needed reprieve to regain her strength for whatever challenges lay ahead.
With Lyra settled and serene beside me, I turned my attention back to the lake. The dark waters parted smoothly around our vessel, lending a deceptive tranquility to our passage. Despite the calm, I was acutely aware of the latent threats, the lake being a known trap for the unwary. Firm in my resolve, I maintained vigilant watch over the deceptive stillness.
As we delved deeper, a melodic whisper began to resonate around me, a sound both soothing and vibrant. The book, sensing my approach, was thrilled by my proximity, its song of joy intensifying as we moved closer. The City of Abyssmourn Deep loomed ahead and so did the book.
As the hours passed with the lake's surface rippling gently under the Shadow Skimmers wake, the book, unable to contain its excitement, repeated its riddle tirelessly, its voice ringing out again and again with increasing fervor.
“In the city cloaked in silence, under spells of time's embrace,
Lies a chamber, dark and daunting, where the dead commune and pace.
Bound in shadows, whispers waiting, knowledge inked in spectral bands,
Seek the tome that breathes and beckons, hidden by necromantic hands.
What am I, that longs for finding, midst the quiet of decay?
A book alive, with secrets yearning for the light of day.”
The words tumbled out faster and faster, as if the book was desperate to etch them permanently into my memory. “Oh bloody hells, will you shut up!” I spat out in frustration.
“I didn’t say anything…” Lyra’s voice broke through, tinged with mock surprise and a clear, yawning indifference. “Do you often find yourself bickering with your inner monologue?” she teased.
“Actually, they’re generally more amusing than most people I meet…” I trailed off, eyes drifting down to her, “though you’re an exception…most of the time.” A smile cracked across my face.
She let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll consider that a compliment.”
Lyra stretched out, her movements languid as she sat up and pivoted towards the small window, gazing out at the water. A pang of disappointment surged through me as she turned away, and I quickly suppressed it, shoving the feeling deep into the darkest oubliette of my mind. She’s just an ally, I reminded myself sternly, nothing more.
Before we could delve deeper into our conversation, a faint light emerged, nearly swallowed by the engulfing darkness of the Underdark. The city loomed just ahead. As our approach neared, a massive gate began to rise, ushering us into the city. The dock, to my surprise, buzzed with activity. The Zhentarim had established a checkpoint, meticulously monitoring anyone arriving from the lake.
Upon docking, I absorbed the sight of the once-majestic city sprawling before us. Abyssmourn Deep had clearly thrived in its heyday as a vibrant subterranean metropolis, its architecture perfectly melded with the surrounding rock. But now, it bore the scars of time—decayed and abandoned. What used to be a sanctuary illuminated by soft, inviting lanterns, now lay shrouded in darkness, the cheerful light replaced by shadows that stretched across the desolate streets. The once lush coverings of fungi, mosses, and vines had turned into an overgrown tapestry that obscured the stone homes beneath.
The city's water features, previously vibrant with flowing waterfalls cascading into tranquil pools, had diminished to mere trickles that whispered into the lake. Abyssmourn Deep's tiered structure, with its charming stone dwellings and open terraces peering over still waters, now stood eerily quiet. The staircases that had spiraled into the rock were crumbling, and the ornate bridges over streams now spanned silent waters.
A twinge of irritation flickered through me as I contemplated the daunting task ahead. How was I to locate both the book and the gateway to the Shadow Cursed lands in such an expansive city, all while keeping my companions in the dark about the true nature of my quest? Given our shared predicament with the tadpole, I doubted they would entertain a detour purely for my sake.
"I see you brought guests, Greycoat," Lilah Vail's voice cut through the air as she addressed the captain. "State your business, outsiders." As the leader of the camp, Lilah Vail stood as a pillar of formidable confidence and charm. Her vibrant red hair cascaded in soft, voluminous waves around her shoulders, starkly framing her pale, flawless complexion. Her piercing gray eyes, rimmed with dark eyeliner, swept over us, finally resting on Lyra with a gaze that was both intense and calculating.
As Lilah and Lyra silently appraised each other, I took in the details of Lilah’s appearance. She exuded a blend of pirate flamboyance and refined elegance, her attire meticulously tailored to underscore her authoritative demeanor. She donned a large, black tricorn hat trimmed with gold, catching the dim light and adding a touch of regal opulence to her rugged ensemble. Her ears were adorned with large, ornate earrings, the luminous stones within them shimmering with a mysterious inner light.
Lilah's ensemble was dominated by a dark, fitted leather jacket detailed with embossed patterns and subtle golden accents. It was open at the front, revealing a ruffled, cream-colored blouse that provided a soft contrast to the rugged leather. Over this, she wore a rich brown corset, festooned with golden chains and medallions, the symbols and talismans marking her allegiance to the Zhentarim.
Her shoulders were clad in armor that matched her corset, dark metal with golden embellishments enhancing her formidable presence. This was a woman who not only led but was prepared to fight, ready to confront any challenge or threat that might arise, making it clear that any misstep on our part would not be taken lightly.
"We are seeking passage to the Shadow Cursed lands," Lyra declared, stepping boldly towards Lilah.
"Are you now?" Lilah responded, her hand thoughtfully stroking her chin as she closed the distance between them. She circled Lyra, a gleam of fascination in her eyes, eventually stopping to face her directly. She gazed into Lyra's eyes, visibly enchanted by their swirling magic and the striking green and silver hues. "My, my. You are a stunning creature," Lilah remarked, her grin spreading with genuine admiration.
"So I've been told," Lyra replied, casting a quick glance in my direction before returning her gaze to Lilah.
"Have you now?" Lilah's smile grew even broader, her intrigue deepening.
"Darlings, as much as I would like to see where this is going, time is pressing," I interjected, unable to hide my amusement at their exchange. Lilah’s eyes lingered on Lyra for a moment longer before she let out a resigned sigh. Though she turned her head slightly toward me, her gaze remained fixed on Lyra, as if unable to pull away completely.
"You’re no fun," she murmured, half in jest. "Right then, back to business." With a reluctant pivot, Lilah stepped away from Lyra and returned to her crew. "I know where the entrance you seek is, but the information comes at a price," she said, her smile lingering as she addressed us all.
"Of course it will," I sighed, a touch of dry humor in my voice.
"You wouldn't want to venture into the city at this hour," Lilah warned, a hint of mischief in her tone. "There are creatures that come alive at night, the kind only nightmares are made of. You may stay with us tonight, if," she paused, drawing out the suspense, "you agree to our terms."
"And will you be enlightening us on those terms, or are we playing a guessing game?" Lyra shot back, a coy smile playing on her lips. Her sarcasm sparked a hearty laugh from Lilah.
"Oh, I like you and your sharp tongue," Lilah responded with a playful wink. "We're merely traders in search of forgotten treasures. You might have even heard of Abyssmourn Deep and the secrets it holds within its walls."
"OH yes!" Gale stepped forward, his voice tinged with excitement. "Abyssmourn Deep, in its prime, was a veritable lighthouse of knowledge. Wizards, sorcerers, all manner of magic users—and yes, even tradesmen—flocked to the city. Nestled within its teeming streets lay the grandest library, a treasure trove of tomes, ancient scrolls, and oh, the books! Venturing into the Underdark to uncover such secrets was perilous indeed, but well worth the risk. Rumor had it, though, that much of the knowledge encased within those walls veered into the realms of dark magic. Oh, to have wandered those halls during its golden age... I could get lost..."
"Best idea you've had so far," I interjected, cutting him short.
"Told ya, Talker, I got a nose for 'em," Greycoat called out from the boat. I struggled to stifle my laughter as Gale, slightly abashed, mumbled something under his breath.
“Your rather, talkative friend is correct.” Lilah grinned. “Though I could care less about what’s in the books and more about what they will fetch in our black market. We have been, shall we say, unsuccessful in finding the library inside the vast ruined city. Our price for telling you how to leave will be the location of the library.”
"Why should we help you find the library when we could just wander into the city and discover the way ourselves, as you did?" Shadowheart challenged Lilah.
"I wouldn't recommend it, love," Lilah responded, the lightness draining from her face, her eyes hardening like flint as she fixed a stern glare on Shadowheart. "Cross a Zhent, and you might just find that the silence of this city becomes your eternal resting place."
"How hard can it be to find a library?" I rolled my eyes, trying to lighten the mood. "The price she's asking is reasonable enough. Let's accept the deal and move on." I was in search of a book, and Lilah had unwittingly provided the perfect incentive to get the others on board, whether they realized it or not. Lyra, who understood my motives from our earlier conversation in my tent, gave me a subtle nod before turning to Lilah.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"We'll help you find your library in exchange for directions to the Shadow Cursed lands," Lyra confirmed with Lilah.
"I knew you'd come around," Lilah said with a wink at Lyra. "The stairs to the left will lead you to an abandoned inn. Set up your camp there. It’s equipped with plenty of rooms, tables, and a kitchen. No innkeeper, though—you'll have to fend for yourselves. I suggest you rest up; you have a long day ahead."
We made our way to the inn, and Gale's mood noticeably brightened at the sight of the kitchen at his disposal. He wasted no time, setting down his packs and immediately diving into meal preparation. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes before heading to the wine cellar, silently hoping the Zhentarim hadn’t completely drained the stock. To my surprise, several bottles of various wines remained. I gathered as many as I could carry and returned to the main pub room, where Halsin and Shadowheart were setting the table with plates and glasses they had found.
The gith had started a fire in the hearth, sitting beside it as she methodically sharpened her blades. Karlach came bounding down the stairs from the upper level, her face lit with excitement.
“Oh, my, gods! Beds! There are actual beds up there!” she exclaimed, dropping into a chair and helping herself to a glass of wine. “Ales all tapped out; this will have to do,” she added with a grin.
Lyra descended the stairs, a smile forming as she saw us preparing the table. She quickly joined, sitting down beside me.
“Wine, darling?” I offered, holding out a glass.
She hesitated, her eyes lingering on the bottle before she spoke softly. “I’m almost afraid to drink or eat anything,” she admitted, a shadow of pain crossing her face.
“You need to eat, my child,” Halsin urged gently. “You’ve been through a lot, and nourishment will help your body recover.”
Lyra nodded, and I poured her a glass. She lifted it slowly, taking a cautious sip. As she swallowed, a look of relief washed over her face, and she took a larger sip. The fear that her throat’s burns were still raw had clearly haunted her, and I understood her hesitation—no one would want to endure that pain again. Gale popped his head out of the kitchen, scanning the room with a satisfied grin.
"Karlach, would you be so kind as to help me bring the courses to the table?" he asked.
"Courses!" Karlach exclaimed, leaping up with a speed I hadn't seen in her before. I sighed lightly, pouring myself another glass of wine and eyeing Lyra's glass before topping it off as well. The gith and Shadowheart joined us at the table just as Gale and Karlach burst through the kitchen's swinging door, their arms laden with dishes.
Gale proudly presented the first offerings: baskets of warm Dwarven Stonebread and Honeyed Butter. The bread, known for its hearty, dense texture, was studded with crushed nuts and seeds, and the honeyed butter spread added just the right amount of sweetness. Karlach followed, carrying a platter of Fire Pepper Poppers—spicy peppers stuffed with a blend of cheeses and herbs, wrapped in crisp bacon, and roasted to perfection, with a cooling yogurt dip on the side.
They quickly returned to the kitchen and emerged again with more treasures. Gale carried a succulent boar roast, its herb-crusted exterior glistening, accompanied by caramelized apples, roasted chestnuts, and a drizzle of elderberry sauce. Karlach brought out tender cabbage leaves, braised in butter with smoked salt and topped with crispy bacon bits, along with a delicate pastry filled with tart moonberries, sweetened with starflower syrup, and finished with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of nutmeg.
For the first time, Lyra's eyes were even wider than Karlach's. She surveyed each dish with an eagerness that suggested she had been deprived of a proper meal for years. Supreme Healing Potions might work wonders, but they certainly leave the body craving real sustenance.
"Is that drool I see, darling?" I teased her.
"Gale, this looks amazing!" she exclaimed, her grin stretching from ear to ear. "And yes, I'm not going to hide the drool—this meal is worthy of it." She laughed; her excitement contagious as she prepared to dive into the feast. Gale and Karlach joined the table, and everyone eagerly began piling food onto their plates. I, however, chose to simply refill my glass with more wine. The room fell into a silence punctuated only by the sounds of ravenous eating. It was almost amusing to watch them, so absorbed in their meals, finding such joy in every bite.
But I understood why. Cazador had made sure that meals were a thing of dread, a cruel mockery of sustenance designed to break us rather than nourish. Food was not something to be enjoyed; it was a meager reprieve from the relentless hunger that gnawed at your insides. The very act of eating had been stripped of all pleasure, reduced to a grim necessity.
But then I had tasted Lyra’s blood, a revelation of what true sustenance could be. It was an experience that lingered in my mind, a taste so exquisite it eclipsed all memories of Cazador’s twisted offerings. It was then that I realized how much I had been denied—how much I longed to feast, not just to survive, but to savor the richness of real food, the pleasure of it. A longing I had thought buried deep, now stirred by the sight of them enjoying a meal that, for once, held no cruelty, only comfort.
As their bellies filled with the delights of Gale's meticulously prepared meal, Lyra turned to Halsin with a curious expression. “Halsin, do you know why the cult was sending people to this Moonrise Towers?” she asked.
“Sadly, I do not know what their intentions are, but I believe I understand why they chose the Shadow-Cursed lands,” Halsin began, his voice tinged with a note of sorrow. “Moonrise Towers once stood in a beautiful valley, a place blessed with nature’s most splendid gifts. The land was a tapestry of vibrant lakes and rivers, weaving through fields of wildflowers that stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was always sweet with the scent of blooming flora, and pixies danced freely among the blossoms. Majestic, ancient trees stood like guardians around the valley, their branches forming a protective canopy over the small but thriving villages nestled within.”
“It sounds idyllic,” Lyra mused, a wistful smile playing on her lips as she imagined the lost paradise.
“It was, yes, my child,” Halsin replied, his smile fleeting before his expression darkened. “But that was before a vile being, Kethric Thorm, desecrated those vibrant lands with his foul presence. He twisted what was once a paradise into a nightmare where the very essence of life had been corrupted and drained. This man—no, he is no man,” Halsin’s voice grew angrier, “this monster, has turned the land into a place of despair and decay. It’s a realm where hope has long withered away, and shadows now reign supreme. The very soil seems to cry out in eternal torment, the air heavy with the weight of countless lost souls. His loyal cultists, however, seem untouched by the curse, moving freely in a land where everything else has been consumed by darkness.”
"Lovely, I think I'll pass on keeping a summer home there," I quipped sarcastically.
Halsin's expression grew somber. "Without a cure, no creature can make its home in this land," he said, the weight of his words heavy with sorrow. "Anyone who ventures into the darkness of the Shadow Curse is claimed by it, twisted into mindless, bloodthirsty abominations—servants of Thorm."
"How is it that the cultists can thrive, if no one else can?" Shadowheart asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
"This, I do not yet know," Halsin admitted, but his tone became resolute. "However, it is possible. While I won’t deny the dangers ahead—savage creatures and the blackest of magic—there is still a light within this land, begging to be freed. I can feel it. The land calls to me, pleading to be healed. And I promise you, I will help you find the source of the tadpole’s magic hidden within that tower. Together, we can save you and, with any luck, cure this forlorn land, restoring it to its former glory and allowing nature to flourish once more."
“Next, he’ll be asking us to form a circle, hold hands, and sing songs while we sway,” I whispered to Lyra, a smirk playing on my lips.
She snickered softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s probably the least heroic thing you’ve been asked to do so far,” she replied, barely containing her laughter.
“I hate it when you’re right, darling,” I said, grinning as I teased her back. “We really mustn’t let this become a habit of yours.”
“Gale,” Lyra began thoughtfully, “Do you think the library might hold any knowledge about the Shadow Curse?”
“It’s definitely possible,” Gale replied, his tone intrigued. “The Library of Abyssmourn Deep was vast, filled with ancient texts and forgotten lore. If we can find our way to it, who knows what secrets we might uncover before it falls into the hands of our Zhentarim hosts?”
“I think that’s enough talk of curses and shadows for one evening,” Halsin interjected with a warm smile, looking around the table. “Let’s focus on enjoying this meal and each other’s company.”
“I’ll toast to that,” Gale declared, raising his glass and savoring the last drop of wine. As the meal continued, Karlach and Halsin filled the air with tales of battles and the wonders of nature, even the gith joined in, sharing her own war stories. Lyra sat quietly, her attention on the others, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair around her finger. The warm light from the hearth cast a soft, golden glow on her skin, enhancing the radiance of her features. Her eyes sparkled and danced with renewed magic, the effects of the Dragon’s Breath spell and the Supreme Healing potion now all but forgotten, leaving no trace of the toll they had taken. Lyra was herself once more—beautiful, strong, and full of life.
She sipped the last of her wine, laughing at something Gale had said to Shadowheart. I leaned over, refilling her glass and mine. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she picked up the glass, taking another delicate sip. My thoughts began to drift back to our time together in the cave. Lyra had been more than just a distraction—she was a captivating presence that I couldn't easily shake. Our bond had deepened in that cave, culminating in her saving me from the cave troll. The more I showed interest in her, the more of myself I gave, the more she responded.
I just needed to continue showering her with attention, and she would be mine—mine to control, mine to use against Cazador. Yet, as that thought crossed my mind, a small, insistent voice surfaced, whispering that perhaps I wanted her for reasons that had nothing to do with manipulation. Perhaps I cared for her in a way that defied my carefully laid plans. I quickly silenced that voice, dismissing it as weakness. This was about eliminating Cazador, nothing more. But if seeking her company again would serve that purpose, then what harm was there in it? I grinned to myself, eager to relive the moments we had shared and to craft new ones.
As the meal came to an end, a sense of contentment settled over the group. With their bellies full of the hearty meal, the weariness of the day’s peril began to weigh heavily on their eyes. The gith, satisfied and serene, returned to her place by the fire, meticulously sharpening her array of weapons. Halsin and Karlach, their own hunger sated, joined Gale in tidying up the table and kitchen. Meanwhile, Shadowheart, feeling the comforting warmth of a full stomach, quietly retired to her room upstairs, ready for a well-deserved rest.
Lyra set down her empty wine glass, the soft clink echoing slightly in the quiet room. I rose, offering her my hand with a sly, inviting smile. “Shall we?” I asked, my tone laced with suggestion. Lyra raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly, her expression teasingly indifferent.
“Shall we… what, Astarion?” she replied, her voice dripping with feigned nonchalance.
“Oh, don’t play coy, darling,” I murmured, my grin widening. “Your cheeks are flushed, and we both know it’s not just the wine.” I paused, leaning in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?” Lyra’s lips curled into a small, seductive smile; her eyes alight with a rekindled desire as she bit her lower lip.
"No sugary sweet or honeyed words?" she quipped, feigning disappointment.
"My words could never match the sweetness of when I last tasted you," I responded earnestly, brushing the curls from her face. "Please say you'll come," I murmured, barely above a whisper. Lyra’s smile was her answer; she placed her delicate hand in mine. I helped her to her feet and led her upstairs to my chosen room, quietly closing the door behind us.
Once inside, I drew her close, wrapping her in my embrace, and pressed my lips to hers with a tenderness that quickly gave way to hunger. Lyra’s fingers trailed along my arms before tangling in my hair, pulling me closer still. I broke away from her lips, tracing a line of kisses along her jaw until I reached her ear, where I whispered, “I am all yours, and you are all mine… at least until morning comes.”
Lyra pulled her ear away from my tender whispers, arching her neck to expose the delicate lines to me. A small gasp escaped her lips as I drew her back, her ear once again caressed by my breath. "Dessert first, darling, dinner after," I murmured huskily into her ear before tracing a path of kisses back to her lips, capturing them with an intensity fueled by insatiable desire. Our kiss ignited Lyra's passion, a powerful force that had simmered quietly, waiting for this moment. As our lips met, it was as if a dam had burst, releasing a torrent of heat and fervor that enveloped us both, each kiss a spark in the night, bright and wild.
Our desire was like wildfire, eager to shed the confining brush of undergrowth—clothes were merely dry leaves stifling the fierce, crackling flames, longing to be cast off and free, allowing our passion to blaze brighter and unencumbered. As Lyra pulled away from our kiss, a fleeting sense of emptiness fluttered through me, like a quiet echo in a vacant hall. When she stepped back, severing our embrace, that brief void lingered, poignant and stark. She turned, taking a few steps forward, then looked back over her shoulder at me with a seductive smile, her beauty as captivating as a siren's call. She then elegantly let her dress slide off her shoulders pausing for a moment, before the fabric whispered to the floor like a sigh. As the dress pooled at her feet, she gracefully stepped out of it, her perfect body silhouetted in the dim light.
"Look at you, darling," I marveled, bathed in the soft light of the room, which seemed to caress her form. She was enticing, her long silky black curls cascading elegantly over her shoulders and down her back.
With an impish grin, she teased, "And you appear to be overdressed," her flirtatious tone playful and inviting. Wishing to once again feel her skin against mine, I acted swiftly. With efficient movements, I shrugged out of my garments, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor, my body longing for the comfort of Lyra’s touch and a soft bed to enjoy her in.
Lyra, hungering for my presence, raised her hand and with the subtle curl of her fingertips, beckoned me to join her, calling me back into her embrace. I indulged in the moment, teasing her with each consciously slow step I took, savoring the deliberate, tantalizing walk toward her. After what I made feel like an eternity, I finally reached her. Standing close behind her, I leaned in and tenderly kissed her shoulder, each a touching and soft whisper of affection. Gently grasping her waist, I spun her around to face me, our eyes locking in a moment of silent anticipation. I paused, holding her close, allowing the silence to swell with the palpable, growing desire that lingered between us, heightening the tension. Lyra bit her lower lip, her eyes alight with a desire that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over with every passing moment.
I teasingly held back, gauging the perfect moment to act. Lyra's breath quickened, her impatience growing tangible in the charged silence until she could bear it no longer. "Please, Astarion," she implored, her voice thick with anticipation. In that instant, I captured her lips with mine, plunging into a kiss that was devastatingly deep and overwhelmingly intense. My hands gently traced her back, drawing Lyra closer to me with a firm pull. In turn, she responded by looping her arms around my neck, tightening our embrace. As our desires burst to life once more, I picked her up and gently placed her in my bed. The warmth of her skin on mine returned as I eased my way inside her. Like lightning in a tempest sky, the connection between us was electric and instantaneous, illuminating the dark spaces between us and setting the night alight with flashes of brilliant, intense closeness.
We spent hours in a nocturnal storm of ardor that swept through us, a powerful force spinning wildly in the night's embrace, gathering strength from the shadows and weaving a tapestry of fervent sighs and caresses that lasted until near dawn. As our intensity neared its climax, I found my way to Lyra’s neck. My fangs sank into her soft skin, her blood was like a midnight bloom unfurling its petals to the moon—delicate yet consuming. My lips caressed her, it was not just sustenance, but a whispered secret passed between night and shadow, a communion that drew life gently from the bloom, leaving a trace of eternal twilight in its wake. I savored her as our bodies lay spent and exhausted.
Mindful of not taking too much from Lyra, I gently released her from my bite, replacing the sensation with a tender kiss of gratitude. Lying beside her, I pulled her close to my chest, cradling her in a warm embrace. Together, we drifted into a peaceful meditation, our breaths slowly synchronizing, the moment wrapping us in a cocoon of serene quietude. But our tranquility was short-lived.
Suddenly, the air in the room chilled, sending shivers cascading down our spines. In the stillness of the night, far off in the distance, a sound cut through the silence—a baying, low and haunting, filled with a wraithlike terror. The sound was horrific, an eerie, ghastly howl that seemed to claw its way into our very souls. It resonated with a primal fear, deep and overwhelming, vibrating through our bones. The baying, though distant, stirred a dread so intense it was almost unbearable.
Lyra and I bolted upright, our hearts racing as we fought against the instinctual urge to flee, to escape whatever malevolent force had unleashed that dreadful cry. The night around us grew colder, darker, as the mournful wail lingered, a harbinger of unspeakable horror that drove the mind to seek safety, heedless of the dangers that might lie in your path.
“What in the nine hells was that?” I asked, my voice shaking as Lyra clung to me, her body trembling with terror.
“Madness…” Lyra whispered, her voice barely audible, choked by the fear that gripped her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued, “An evil so pure it will never leave us. It will feast upon our reason, gnawing away until nothing remains but the frenzied echoes of our despair. We will be devoured, piece by piece, until only the madness remains, shrieking in the void where our souls once dwelled.”
Lyra closed her eyes tightly, burying her head in my chest as though she could escape the horror through sheer will alone. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, trying desperately to rekindle some warmth between us. But the night had turned cold and hostile, the remaining hours crawled by, each second a torturous eternity as I prayed fervently to never again hear that dreadful sound.
In the early hours of the next morning, my eyes fluttered open. Somewhere through the night, after the eerie cries, I must have slipped into a meditation. Lyra was still curled against my chest, her gentle sighs blending into the quiet of her own peaceful rest. As the shadows of unease from the night began to dissolve, I couldn’t help but smile at her tranquil form—it felt almost malicious to disturb her.
Gently, I eased myself out from beneath her, slipping quietly to find my clothes and get dressed. As I pulled my shirt over my shoulders and was about to rouse Lyra, I found her eyes already open, a playful grin lighting up her face.
“Hmm, don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the show,” she teased, her giggle cutting through the remnants of the night's tension.
“Are you now?” I quirked an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my voice. Her laughter, bright and clear, felt like a balm, washing away the lingering echoes of those dreadful howls. With a grin, I sauntered over to a chair across the room. Sitting back casually, I posed dramatically, stroking my chin thoughtfully while keeping my eyes fixed on Lyra.
Lyra's smile widened impishly as her eyes caught sight of her dress, crumpled in an elegant heap on the floor. With a fluid, deliberate grace, she slid out of the bed and began a slow, seductive walk toward her garment. Each step was measured and purposeful, her gaze fixed on mine, ensuring I witnessed the full allure of her movements.
Reaching her dress, she carefully stepped into it, drawing the silken fabric up her legs in a tantalizingly slow manner, the material whispering against her skin as it ascended past her waist. She eased one arm and then the other into the sleeves, her motions smooth and deliberate. Lyra's hands then reached behind her back, deftly securing the dress, her movements exuding a quiet confidence.
Approaching me with the same captivating ease, she stopped just inches away. Leaning close, her breath warm against my ear, she whispered one word, “breakfast,” her voice carrying a playful, inviting tone. She left a soft kiss on my ear, her teeth grazing it lightly, sending a shiver through me before she turned and gracefully exited through the door.
I hastily finished buttoning my shirt, still stirred by her enchanting departure, and made my way towards the stairs.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my companions were already deep into a bountiful feast, expertly prepared by Gale. My eyes admired the spread laid out on the table, marveling at Gale’s dedication—he must have been up all night again, crafting this culinary celebration.
The table boasted bowls of Elven Harvest Porridge, a robust concoction of oats, barley, and ancient grains, lovingly slow cooked with an array of forest berries, wild honey, and a hint of cinnamon to enhance its rich, earthy flavors. In the center, a stack of Dwarven Forgecakes commanded attention—thick, hearty pancakes made from finely ground stone-milled flour, each layer interspersed with bits of caramelized apples, the tops liberally dusted with powdered sugar. A jar of deep, amber maple syrup and a bowl of creamy melted butter sat invitingly beside them, ready to enrich their rustic taste.
Adjacent to the Forgecakes, a hearty platter was laden with spiced boar sausages, their aromatic spices mingling with the air, alongside golden-browned roasted root vegetables and fluffy scrambled eggs. This robust ensemble was paired with slices of crusty hearth-baked bread and a dollop of tangy mustard sauce—perfect for dipping or spreading.
Gale also provided an array of fresh fruits, a vibrant mix of enchanted orchard yields: juicy oranges, ruby-red pomegranates, and slices of golden apples, all tossed with fresh mint leaves and a splash of citrus nectar, creating a refreshing counterpoint to the rich main dishes.
It was clear from the beverages on offer that Gale too had felt the chill of last night’s howl. On one side of the meal, a pot of Wizard’s Brew stood—a dark, rich coffee made with enchanted beans designed to provide a subtle boost of energy and focus. On the other, a kettle of Serenity’s Embrace awaited—a calming tea expertly blended from chamomile, lavender, and elderflower, known for its soothing properties on the mind and spirit.
The breakfast table was lively this morning, particularly with the addition of Lilah, who had taken a seat directly across from Lyra. Lilah seemed thoroughly engrossed not only in her heaping plate of Gale's breakfast but also in Lyra's company, her gaze hardly wavering from Lyra as she animatedly engaged her in conversation. I found my seat beside Lyra, noting the slight shift in the dynamic as I joined them.
Lyra was blissfully enjoying her second bowl of fruit, her eyes closed in delight with each flavorful bite.
“Nice to see you join us,” Lilah remarked, her tone casual but her eyes still locked on Lyra. “I am a busy woman; I don’t have all day to wait for people to get to work.”
“You seem to have enough time to enjoy our hospitality,” I retorted with a thinly veiled sneer, referencing the lavish spread before us.
“And the company of your captivating companions,” she countered smoothly, finally shifting her gaze to meet mine, her smile tinged with a hint of challenge and amusement. Lilah’s gaze lingered on me, as if she were quietly assessing my worth. Once satisfied, she grinned and turned her attention back to Lyra. “As I was saying, love,” she began, her eyes flicking back to me, gauging my reaction, “I sent a scout into the upper city last night. He hasn’t returned this morning. There’s a rather large section in the noble’s quarter that we’ve been… unable to rule out. Every time we send in a scout, they fail to return.”
“Gods,” I muttered. “We’re not here to find your lost scouts.” Lyra’s foot nudged mine under the table, and I was about to protest when I noticed her subtle glance. She had a plan, and I needed to play along. Reluctantly, I kept my mouth shut.
“If you’re quite done whining,” Lilah said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “let’s get back to business. In the trade district, just past the market square, there’s a guard tower beside a grand gateway. It leads into the Amethyst Enclave—hard to miss with the purple glow from the raw amethyst in the rocks and walls.”
“None of your scouts have returned, and you think the library is in this unsearched area?” Lyra asked, her attention now on a plate of Forgecakes.
Lilah chuckled at Lyra’s appetite. “It's located in one of the city's few sectors that remain beyond our reach. Every Zhentarim scout I've dispatched there has failed me. Given its history as a wealthy district, you can understand why I'm so eager to thoroughly explore it. I’ve wasted enough of my people—fortune smiled on me by sending you lot my way.”
“I thought we were just supposed to locate the library?” Gale questioned. “If you’re certain it’s up there, why do you need us to find it?”
“There are seven districts in Abyssmourn Deep. We’ve thoroughly scouted four. The Amethyst Enclave hasn’t been ruled out yet. You’ll confirm whether the library is there, and if you happen to encounter whatever’s been delaying my scouts, you’ll likely have to kill it to make it back to camp. Otherwise, you’ll share their fate.” Lilah’s smile widened as she leaned back in her chair.
"Two birds, one stone," Lyra remarked, her glance shifting between me and Lilah. I sensed her words were intended more for me, though I was still puzzling over her strategy.
"Exactly, love," Lilah responded with a grin, winking at Lyra as she rose from her seat. "Best finish your meal—you have a long day ahead." As she strolled out of the inn, her laughter lingered, a soft, ominous echo that seemed to hover in the air long after she had gone.
As the others rose from the table and began helping Gale clean up in preparation for our venture into the city, I leaned closer to Lyra, lowering my voice so only she could hear. "What are you playing at?" I asked.
Lyra smiled, continuing to savor her meal. In a hushed tone between bites, she replied, "Getting you your book without raising suspicions. Or... did you no longer need it?" I stared at her, momentarily baffled—not by any schemes of my own to secure the book, but by her readiness to help. The night before, after our second intimate encounter, I had planned to subtly coax her into assisting me. Yet here she was, offering her help freely, without any need for manipulation on my part.
I dismissed the idea quickly, convincing myself that her willingness was simply a result of my manipulation working more effectively than anticipated, not a testament to her genuine care. “Aren’t you just brimming with secrets, darling?” I grinned. “Who would have guessed you were so cunning?”
“By now…” She paused, giving me a playful look, “I would have thought you knew me better. I’m almost offended.” She put on a show of being wounded.
“Almost? I’ll have to step up my efforts then,” I replied with exaggerated solemnity.
Lyra chuckled and took another bite of her breakfast, then glanced up at me with a thoughtful look. "I don’t think whatever's been snatching Lilah’s scouts is just wandering the streets for kicks, or cares much about a crumbling library..." She paused for effect. "It’s probably guarding something—something precious, like perhaps an exceptionally dark tome, the kind a vile necromancer used to hold a city hostage and would go to great lengths to protect."
Understanding dawned on me—if the creature was indeed guarding the tome, the others would see no issue with me claiming such a prize once it was defeated. The Zhentarim’s interest lay in the library’s broader treasures, not this specific dark tome. Smiling at Lyra, I nodded, "Two birds, one stone." She winked in response and went back to her breakfast.
Rising, I returned to my room to prepare for the day. As I secured my last weapon and topped off my poison vials, the book resumed its beckoning, a playful whisper in the back of my mind.
“In a manor barren of knowledge, through corridors hushed and shadow-clad, my secrets impatiently await. A verdant key required, sits bound to a guardian of darkness, a devourer of the light.”