Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a cold night on the Glory Run Road, nearing the winter’s solstice. Catha was round and high in the sky, Ruidus dark and dusky somewhere in the building twilight above the treeline to the far east. The sun was still far below the horizon, and the road was cast in Catha’s silver light.

Though it was still far too dark for traveling, a lone figure walked north along the Glory Run Road. Their long, silver hair and ornate breastplate gleamed in the moonlight, but the rest of their features were obscured by an indigo cloak.

Sier was traveling north to meet an old friend from Uthodurn. They had taken to traveling some years ago, trying to subvert the Dwendalian Empire’s oppressive rule by secretly helping Sehanine’s followers there, but as of late it seemed that word of them had begun to spread and working covertly was getting more difficult and more dangerous. The message from Reani was unexpected: an invitation to join her outside of the borders of the Empire to aid an expedition into the wild Savalirwood to the north. The timing could not have been more perfect, as Sier’s confidence had begun to falter that their current course was the right one. Though they had helped many folk in the Empire, it was becoming more treacherous to continue, and they did not feel as if they were making much of an impact.

It was also extremely tempting to go north in the winter. It was the best way to see Sehanine’s ribbons, and the colourful auroras never ceased to inspire awe. Sier longed to commune with their goddess under that dancing sky, to refind their path.

So they trudged northward, out of the Empire, without regret. They traveled by night, under the Moonweaver’s gaze, knowing that they were much safe. While most travelers would risk a broken ankle doing so, Sehanine’s blessing made Sier’s vision in the night just as acute as it was in the day.

It was that night, on the eve of Catha’s fullest phase, that Sier saw the aurora for the first time. It was not the brilliant display that could be expected around the Elvenpeaks, just a mere dusting of green light on the horizon. Still, Sier stopped and lowered their hood to watch, breath misting in the air. The ground around them sparkled with ice crystals on top of a thin layer of snow, and the world was silent. Despite the relatively small size of the light display in the sky, it was a beautiful scene. Sier whispered a prayer under their breath, the gentle sounds of Celestial not making it far before being muffled by the snows.

Just underneath the curling ribbon in the sky, a shape caught their eye. The land here was mostly barren and snow-covered: a rather monotonous landscape. But on the horizon, something swayed in the breeze, dancing underneath Sehanine’s ribbon like a lone dancer. Sier’s breath caught in their throat, the air suddenly seeming bitterly cold.

They approached the ghostly dancer as the aurora faded. With the moment past, the movement seemed more mundane. When close enough to make out the details it was only a coat that Sier saw, secured to a tall stick.

Yet somehow, the scene seemed awfully deliberate to them. This was not a lost or discarded cloak, but one placed with intention. The stick must have been struck into the ground with purpose: a marker of some kind. A grave marker? The thought made them shudder.

A closer inspection of the marker revealed a card at the bottom of the pole, soggy, but still readable. A testament to its craftsmanship. Sier knelt in front of it, and came face to face with the symbol of their own goddess: The Moon.

The card was beautiful, almost worshipful in its rendition of the moons. Catha was rendered in silver foil, leaving Ruidus dark in comparison in red ink below. There was delicate golden scrollwork around the edge of the card, the kind of detail that would have taken hours for an artist to carefully impart onto the tiny border.

This was a sign, Sier knew. They had hoped for so long to receive direction from Sehanine, but they did not expect to find it here on the side of a desolate road connecting an empire where She was forbidden to a town where most of the inhabitants were too enraptured with their own lives to much care for worship of any kind. Sier wondered who was buried here, if that was what this place marked, who had loved Her and died in such a lonely place.

The sky was reaching proper twilight now. The sun would rise soon, meaning Sier would have stopped to rest anyway. Realizing that they would not be going further that night, Sier dropped their bag and began to make a circle on the ground. From a clear crystal bead placed at the circle’s center, a hemisphere expanded. The interior was warm and dry, and Sier thanked the Moonweaver for Her gift as they settled down onto the dry floor.

In the dwindling night, Sier removed components from the pouch at their belt. They lit a cone of cedar incense upon a smooth stone, and uncorked a small crystal vial. With a twirl, Sier spun the vial around them, spraying the liquid contents of the vial around them in a spiral. Though the air around them was warm, the water crystallized to ice immediately on contact with the air and fell around them in a delicate shower. They sat down cross-legged in front of the incense, clutched their silver holy symbol, and began to enter a trance.

Slipping into a trance state was always very different when communing with one’s goddess. While normally the mind slowly drifted on its own as the body relaxed and entered an automatic rhythm, communing left the mind lucid. Sier observed as their muscles relaxed, their breathing decoupled from their thought, and eventually their hearing began to fuzz. As the sounds of their surroundings began to seem as if coming from very far away, they vaguely felt a hypnic jerk, and suddenly they were sitting in the middle of a dreamscape.

The dream terrain was the same as where they had made camp in reality, but that much more vivid. Sier willed their dream body to sit at attention and look around. In their mind’s eye, they could see the landscape around them free of snow. At the base of the pole carrying the coat, the earth was obviously disturbed. Wings fluttered overhead, and Sier looked up to see a raven silhouetted in the light of the moon. The aurora danced overhead at full intensity, unrestricted by the rules of reality. The sight took their breath away.

A sudden breeze brought them back to the moment, remembering why they were here.

Did you mean for me to find this place? Their lips did not move, but their voice reverberated around them, reaching much farther than in would have in the material world.

In their mind’s eye, a vision of the small aurora from earlier flashed. Then one of the coat, dancing ethereally in the wind, then one of the Moon card. Yes.

Is someone important to you buried here?

A vision of the coat again, now dancing on the back of a person. Their back was turned, but Seir could see their lithe legs and slim tail. Laughter rang out, pure and echoing in Sier’s mind. Other images flashed, of the figure praying over two swords wrapped in the coat, bleached in the silver moonlight. Of coins slipped into the pockets of children in threadbare clothing. Of the same two swords spinning in the air, one sparkling with ice crystals, and the other glowing with a pale silver light. Another yes.

Is it within my power to bring them back?

An image of a forest clearing, its border of evergreen trees inky under a night sky. A mound of dirt is in the center, and Sier knows that it is a grave. But this one has no marker, no loving reminder of the darkness that befell its inhabitant. The soil moves. A hand reaches out towards the sky, then another. The entire mound is displaced as the torso of a tiefling emerges, then rolls to the side, choking and retching. When their coughing subsides, they look up to the sky from where they kneel. The moon hangs above them, full and large, low in the sky. Whoever they were, it seemed that they had raised themself, once. Perhaps this meant that Sier could as well.

Sier woke from the trance remembering only what had transpired during their lucid moments of communion with Sehanine. The rest of the time seemed to have passed instantly, though the sun was now high enough in the sky for them to know that several hours had passed. Their protective hut still shimmered around them. They rose with a stretch and took in their surroundings.

The road was still desolate, and no new footprints had been made during their rest. Some small prints of a four-legged animal approached and then receded from their hut, but creatures were often curious about the perfect half sphere that appeared from nowhere in their habitat. No animals were currently visible, and Sier felt that they were safe.

The dome shimmered and disappeared as they exited, and Sier set about their task. The ground was frozen, though luckily they would not have to do this excavation by hand. They made a mental note to thank Reani for having shared this utility cantrip with them, and began the somatic components of a spell to shape the earth.

The grave ended up being rather shallow, though not nearly as shallow as the one they had seen in the images shown to them by the Moonweaver. In that vision, the inhabitant’s arm had been able to breach the soil to the elbow. Had they awoken here, they would have found themself restricted by soil reaching to at least their wrist. Sier shuddered at the thought of the grave inhabitant below them trying to claw their way up through that much frozen soil, alive but trapped.

The body was wrapped in a shroud that once may have been a fine tapestry. It was now mud-soaked beyond recognition, and eaten by worms and insects in many places. The first handful that Sier grabbed disintegrated in their hands, but once they found an intact portion they were able to drag the body above ground without issue.

They cast Reani’s cantrip again and filled the grave, leaving a smooth floor of compacted earth. Panting a little from the exertion of lifting the body, they folded back the shroud to reveal the body of its occupant.

A gasp escaped Sier’s lips as the body was revealed. Though there was no way to know how long they had been buried, the body of the purple tiefling before them was unmarked by time. Their clothes and shroud were crumbling upon them, yet their body showed no signs of decay. Their skin was pale, their eyes were closed, and they did not breath, but neither they did not appear truly dead.

The sound of a raven in the distance left Sier feeling suddenly very exposed. They withdrew the crystal bead from the pouch at their hip and began to cast their protective dome again, which would shield them from eyes as well as the elements. As it sprung into existence around them and the body that Sehanine had bidden them to unearth, they relaxed, ever thankful for Her protection.

Now hidden by their shelter’s magical walls and warmed by its temperate interior, Sier set to work. They removed their breastplate and decorative robes, setting them aside so they would stay clean. Their traveling clothes were not fine of make, and they had plenty of extras in their enchanted bag. Rolling up the sleeves of their tunic, they tied their hair back and set about collecting supplies: rags, a small basin, soap, and a plain but functional set of spare traveling clothes.

Sier had not prepared a body since their days as an acolyte, many decades ago. The work had a reverence to it: a simple act of respect to a person in their death. The act felt very different this time, as it was life that Sier was preparing them for.

The mud washed away slowly, revealing the beauty of the tiefling underneath it. Jewelry adorned their fingers, ears, and horns. Much of it was damaged, but Sier’s magic was of the practical type and was able to mend the rust and tarnish from it. The tiefling’s boots too were serviceable with a bit of mending, so Sier set them aside. The clothing, though, was beyond even magic’s help. Sier gingerly cut it away with a knife, revealing seemingly endless patterns of ink on the skin underneath.

The tattoos were beautiful. The ink was vibrant against its bearer’s sallow death-touched skin, and it was evident that it had been put there by a master of the art. Sier had never before thought of the body as a fitting canvas for art, but the figure whom they washed clearly wished to be an exhibit. They were covered in scars as well, but the vast majority of those were carefully placed around the ink: a deliberate avoidance.

As they pulled away the last of the tiefling’s loose tunic, a piece of paper fluttered out. Sier plucked it from the ground, finding it surprisingly dry considering its environment for the past… gods know how long.

They unfolded it carefully. It was evident that its author had wished for it to endure, for the quality of the paper was fine and the ink had not run despite the damp. Sier thought immediately of the arcane scholars they had known at the Archive in Uthodurn, who seemed to spend a dizzying amount of gold on the finest papers and inks they could find. The magic variety, the arcanists had explained, was meant to endure the elements. After all, it would not do to have one’s spellbook washed clean in the first rainfall.

The hand on the note was spidery, but had no flourishes. The note itself was short: terse, even. Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Well, that solves one mystery.

You have risen from the grave once before. You did not have any memories then. I do not know if it is the same now, but if you wish to know more of your past, we can help you. Go to the Evening Nip in Zadash; tell them that you come bearing many gifts. Ask them about the Mighty Nein. We will come. You will always have a place with us.

It was signed with a series of six names, most of which Sier did not dare attempt to pronounce. They tapped their temple. The Mighty Nein did sound vaguely familiar, although it was generic enough to be the name of almost any adventuring group. They shrugged to themself and set the paper aside, returning to their work washing the mud from the tiefling’s — Mollymauk’s body.

Many hours had passed before Mollymauk was clean and dressed in Sier’s spare traveling clothes. A search of their pockets had yielded few possessions: no coin purse, no sundries. Sier supposed that the rest of Mollymauk’s traveling companions had taken that with them when they buried their friend. There was no need for a dead person to have money or supplies, after all. It was lucky that Sier was the one to find them, having a well-stocked haversack. Or perhaps not luck, but fate.

Mollymauk did have a few possessions, damaged though they were. They had two scimitars, cheap and rusted. In the pockets of the coat there were several baubles and trinkets, but nothing of value. Sier set them down around the body and folded the coat under Mollymauk’s head. They would have almost appeared to be sleeping, were it not for the fact that their chest wasn’t rising and falling with their breath.

Sier watched the sun set. Tonight Catha would be full, and this meant that Sehanine’s power would be at its strongest. It must have been fate indeed that had led them here on this particular day, to attempt a resurrection on someone whom they did not know. On someone who had been dead who knows how long.

They had done resurrections before, of course. Despite their reserved nature, even they had had a fiery period of youth marked by adventuring. Friends had fallen, and Sier had helped them come back to the world. But they knew that reconnecting a soul with its body was easier when the soul had loved ones to help coax it back, when the body was not long dead. Doing it when the body was long buried and belonging to a complete stranger, well… that was a different story.

Still, as the moon rose, Sier had hope. Sehanine had led them there. She wanted this soul to come back to the world, and the body itself appeared unmarked by time. There was a chance. Sier gave a silent prayer and then ate: they would need all their strength for this ritual.

Dressed once more in their flowing robes and ornate breastplate, Sier prepared for the ritual. They placed Mollymauk’s possessions in a circle around them, one scimitar at each hip. Their hands were folded over their stomach, a diamond placed over their sternum, and a crescent moon was painted on their forehead with kohl. Sier lit more cedar incense — not strictly required for the ritual, but the scent grounded them — and a few candles. They let their protective dome fade, exposing them to the cold air and bathing them in the light of the full moon above.

The ritual took a full hour. As they walked and chanted, Catha crept across the sky and faint auroras began to form to the north. A serendipitous omen. Sier’s body ached as they reached the ritual’s end, finishing the intricate somatic components and reciting the final verse of the incantation.

The diamond on Mollymauk’s chest seemed to gather moonlight and glow faintly, its internal light building and building. Finally, it twitched in place, then lifted and spun in the air. Light from its facets projected patterns onto Mollymauk’s body, giving it an ethereal beauty.

Sier did not gasp when the diamond dissolved into dust — they had done this before. They did, however, gape as the diamond dust settled not only over Mollymauk, but also their scimitars, which began to glow softly.

Mollymauk’s eyes flicked open and they heaved a deep breath, back arching against the hard ground. As they thrashed in place, Sier made calming sounds and slowly approached. The tiefling opened their mouth to speak, but instead was overtaken by a coughing fit. The deep, rattling coughs shook their entire being and sounded painful. Sier rushed to hold them and cast as powerful of a healing spell as they were able.

Mollymauk’s breathing evened out immediately, but was still raspy. Sier retrieved a waterskin and returned to their side. The tiefling grabbed at it and rinsed their mouth out, then drank greedily. Water dripped down their chin and chest as they gulped, and Sier wondered when the last time they had drank was.

Sier gave a silent prayer to their goddess, thanking Her for having chosen them for this task. For having given them the power to revive Her follower. Their exhaustion washed over them, but the weakness left a giddiness in the face of what they had been able to do.

“Hello handsome,” a voice rasped in accented Common. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of my continued existence?”

“It was the will of Sehanine,” said Sier. “I merely acted as Her instrument.”

“Well, thank the Moonweaver,” said Mollymauk. They saluted the sky. “Not sure what I ever did for you, but I appreciate it.” They turned to Sier. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I feel like absolute shite. Do you have any wine, friend?”

Sier smiled, recalling experiences with reviving old friends. One thing never changed, and that was the debilitating headache that accompanied the experience of having one’s soul reacquainted with their body.

“You ought to eat first, Mollymauk,” they instructed. Noting Mollymauk’s misting breath and suddenly recalling their lack of appropriate clothing, they removed their own overcloak and presented it to the tiefling. “Put this on. I will conjure shelter, then we can work on what ails you.”

“Please, call me Molly. I’m Molly to my friends, and anyone who brings me back from the dead is a friend indeed.”

As Sier circled Molly with their crystal bead, the tiefling inspected their scimitars. While before the weapons had been mundane, with cheap metals and plain leather handles, they now gleamed in the moonlight. Molly picked one up, testing its weight. Judging by their wide eyes and then wicked smile, they liked what they saw.

“Did you bring me these?” they asked.

Sier straightened as the hut burst forth from the bead. “No, they were buried with you,” they explained. “The clothes are mine, but everything else was on your person.”

Molly began rapidly inspecting the possessions around them, tucking each of them back into the pockets of their vibrantly patterned coat. They frowned as they picked up the Moon card, noting its singularity.

“Those bastards took my cards.”

“And your money, by the look of it.” Sier smirked. Their old traveling companions would have done the same.

“There’ll always be more money, or there would be if I had the tools of my trade. But someone seems to have relieved me of them. A shame. I made them myself.”

Molly slipped the Moon card into a pocket near their breast, then unfolded the note. They read it as Sier dug through the haversack. Their brow furrowed and they frowned intently as they sounded out the words under their breath, painstakingly slow. They must have given up after the bit about not remembering, because they shook their head and stowed the paper away.

Sier approached and handed them a bowl of dried fruit, nuts, and bread covered in thick preserves. They held, but did not immediately offer, a wineskin.

“Ooh, you’re divine,” said Molly, grinning. They took the bowl, then frowned. “Wait, we were never introduced. I suppose you learned my name from the note, but it’s not the same. I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. And who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine evening? Miss… ter…?”

Sier waved their hand dismissively. “No honorific is necessary,” they said. “Neither suits me anyway. My name is Sier. I am a humble follower of Sehanine. I was on my way to meet a group for an expedition out of Shady Creek Run when I happened upon your grave.”

“The Run is where my group was headed when I met my untimely demise.” Molly placed a hand over their sternum, where the evidently fatal wound had been before they had been healed. “I don’t suppose I’ll find them there now, probably been ages and they’ve long moved on. Say, what year is it?”

“836, post Divergence.”

Molly laughed shook their head, making their jewelry jingle. “I just realized don’t even know what year it was when I went down,” they explained. “It didn’t seem important at the time. I had all the time in the world.”

“You have time again, granted though it may have been. If you wish to find your group, I may be able to help. I will be meeting with people with connections to historical archives, and if the Mighty Nein are of any renown, we should be able to find word of them.”

Molly’s jaw tensed and their eyes dropped to the half-devoured bread roll in their hands.

“I worry that they might have not made it far without me. You see, we were in a spot of trouble when I left. The kind that might have been too much for the few of them to handle alone.”

Sier nodded sympathetically. They remembered being in similarly dire-seeming situations in their youth. Though they had not lost any of their friends permanently, there were times were they were forced to run to safety to revive someone and lick their wounds. They handed Molly the wineskin.

“I know it may be difficult, but please do not worry for them now. First, you must regain your strength. If you are up to it, we can begin the trek to Shady Creek Run on the morrow. It is only a few days away, and then I will ask my contacts about your group. Until then, there is no point in wasting energy on worry for things you cannot control.”

Molly tipped back the wineskin and drank with gusto.

“Normally I’d argue, but I’ve never felt so tuckered out in my life.” They handed the wineskin back and laid down with their head on their folded coat, wrapping Sier’s cloak around them.

The camp was silent for a moment, the both of them watching the sky.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” said Molly, quietly. “But I’ll try.”

“There is no need,” Sier replied. “It was an honor.”

Chapter Text

Molly fell easily to sleep that night, but it was fitful. Vivid and wild dreams demanded his attention, none of which made even the barest amount of sense to him.

He was in a tomb. Bones littered the floor, as well as sundered weapons and scraps of armor. Angelic statues lined the room, crying tears of blood.

He took a step forward, and his body seemed to move at a breakneck speed. Stopping just as suddenly as it had started, he now found himself standing at a balcony, though somehow he knew he was still in the tomb. Below him, a red-skinned fiend spoke words over a stone coffin. The language was foreign and chilled Molly to the bone. Spells flew around the room, but Molly’s vision was fixed on the coffin, which opened violently when the fiend completed their incantation.

A figure raised out of the coffin, and dread washed over Molly like an icy waterfall.

He was in a cathedral. The stained glass windows lay in fragments on the ground, creating a chaotic mosaic. A horrific creature loomed near the altar, hulking and covered in mouths that began to laugh, louder and louder. Molly slapped his hands over his ears, but there was no escaping the sound, which seemed to resonate in his bones.

In his peripheral vision, Molly could see former friends. Yasha and Beau were both bloodied and shaking with exhaustion. Caleb — in clothes finer than Molly had ever expected the man capable of wearing — lifted his arms over his head, his fingers intertwined with string. His eyes burned with fury. He intoned an arcane word with intensity, then slammed the now-glowing web of string to the floor.

Trails of fire snaked across the floor toward the monster, which stood as if dazed. It was consumed by them, its body burning away to ash. The laughing grew. Molly’s head throbbed, and he fell to his knees with the intensity of it. As the ash of the thing’s body dissolved in the wind, so too did the scene.

He was deep underground, yet had no difficulty seeing. His body moved of its own volition. He walked alongside Fjord, though he barely recognized the man. The warlock seemed older somehow, though physically he was relatively unchanged. He held a sword that gleamed as if with moonlight, and an unfamiliar symbol gleamed at the clasp of his cloak.

Molly’s own swords gleamed with the same light. Fjord nodded grimly to Molly, and together they advanced toward an ominous-looking stone structure. Molly tried to turn his head, to see if there were others around them, but found he had no control.

His hand moved of its own volition, and words came from his mouth in a bright language he did not recognize. His vision shifted suddenly, and the building glowed with a magical light that Molly somehow knew was sinister.

His body approached the entrance and Molly thrashed mentally, trying to turn away. He didn’t want to go to that place; it felt so wrong. No amount of effort exerted seemed to move his body, though, and he could not look away as he and Fjord both cut their palms and put their bloody hands to the surface of the stone door.

The runes on the portal flared with red light, and Molly’s vision was overpowered.

Mollymauk woke hours after sunrise. Sier had darkened the dome for their benefit after the light of the dawn began to creep above the horizon, though it did not seem to help Molly’s sleep. The tiefling murmured and their tail thrashed as they slept. Sier supposed that was to be expected, given the traumatic circumstances of their death.

Sier had not pried, but they had seen the twisted scar that remained over Molly’s sternum. Such a blow would not have been survivable, and even though Molly now lived again, it would not be something easy to forget.

Molly was eager to take to the road, and though the day burned with an intense glare, Sier was more than willing to oblige them. Though Molly acted cheerful, their body language betrayed an unspoken anxiety. The tension in their shoulders and twitch of their tail spoke a silent language of their own to someone who knew to look for it.

Storytelling, it seemed, was Molly’s chosen coping method. As the two walked, Molly spun story after story: about their own exploits and about their time with the Mighty Nein, sometimes speaking about them— about himself in the third person, imitating the voices of his companions.

Sier did not mind the company at all. They were used to energetic companions, Reani being the most recent, and most energetic. They laughed quietly when appropriate, and watched the tension melt away from Molly’s body as he spun in place and used his hands for emphasis.

A full half of Molly’s stories were pure fiction, or at least heavily embellished. Sier noticed the contradictions in the stories of his past, but did not mention it. The talking seemed to do the tiefling good and they would not be the one to ruin it for him.

Near midday, the glare of the sun upon the snows became too much for their sensitive eyes to bear, so Sier donned their glasses with lenses of smoked glass. When Molly turned backwards for dramatic flair at the climax of a particular story, he noticed them and grinned. Attention diverted from that particular fabricated tale, he focused in on his new friend.

“You have a particularly interesting sense of fashion, don’t you?”

“If you are referring to the glasses, I assure you they are purely functional.”

“But also very mysterious,” said Molly, showing a hint of fang. “I’ve talked enough about me. Where are you from? I won’t pretend to have met many elves, but I’ve certainly never met any like you. Is the purple and silver look something you chose, or part of the whole Moonweaver mystique?” His hands traced a sphere in the air elegantly for added effect.

Sier smirked. It had always seemed like predestiny that their own colouration fit so well with those traditionally chosen by followers of Sehanine. Their dusky skin was practically made for the blue and indigo robes favoured at temples, and the glint off their silver hair was rivaled only by that off their mithril breastplate.

“These robes are a traditional style among Her followers,” said Sier simply. “Though I was raised in Xhorhas, where styles and colours such as this are also popular.”

“Xhorhas? Oh dear, is the Empire still at war with them? I had completely forgotten, with everything going on.”

“No, it was resolved in Unndilar. Peacefully, thank the gods. It was an exceedingly tense few months, especially for someone of my heritage living outside of Xhorhas. Though I did not meet any outright violence, it was very difficult for me to secure lodging or make trade in some areas. The suspicion still remains in the Empire itself, but I believe that will wane with time.”

Molly’s eyebrows raised. “Months?” he asked, incredulous. “Does that mean I’ve only been gone for a year? We left Zadash right after the war was declared, and I met my end not long after.”

Sier did the math in their head. “If that is true, then it has only been a little over a year,” they mused.

Molly brightened significantly, throwing his hands into the pockets of Sier’s spare cloak and taking on a more relaxed gait.

“I suppose that’s good news. Might be that my friends haven’t forgotten about me yet. Well, is it right to call them my friends when they looted my body and left me with nothing but a note I could barely read even though they evidently thought I might come crawling out of the dirt a second time?”

“Perhaps they needed it more than you did at the time,” Sier supplied.

“True, we were in a spot of trouble. Probably needed the money to hire goons to avenge me.” Molly’s tail flicked with delight at the idea. “They didn’t need to take my sword, though. None of them even used swords except Fjord, and his is some kind of magic thing that lives in his arm. Or something.”

Molly drew one of his scimitars with his right hand.

“That thing was brilliant. Gold and flashy, like me.” He smirked and spun the scimitar in the air experimentally. “These are brilliant too; never felt anything so light before. They used to be steel, but with a finish that made them look special. Used to tell people they were made of carnival glass.”

Sier chuckled. That did sound like something Mollymauk would do. They wondered how many people believed that the swords were actually made of glass.

“But that gold one,” Molly continued, slashing the air with his new weapon. “That one was special. If I focused just right, it could bamf me clear across a room. Say my squishy wizard was over there, and I needed to go save—”

A cloud of mist appeared where Molly had been standing. He reappeared several yards away with a yelp and fell onto his arse, dropping the sword. A look of shock lingered on his face for several seconds as he made eye contact with Sier, then he collapsed into uncontrollable laughter.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “I was not expecting that.”

Sier helped him stand, then bent to pick the sword up off the ground.

As Molly has said, it was exceptionally light. Sier was familiar with this metal: mithril, the same as their breastplate. The crossguard bore an etching of a waxing crescent moon, and Celestial runes almost too small to read sprawled the length of the blade along the dull back side.

“It seems that She has seen fit to bless you with blades tailor made for you,” they said in awe. “These are beyond mortal make; I have lived in Uthodurn and seen the best work that forgemasters have to offer.”

Molly clutched their arm. “What does that mean?”

“It seems you have been chosen, Mollymauk Tealeaf. For what, I cannot say. Perhaps She will reveal it with time, or perhaps that is for you to discover on your own.” They handed him the blade, hilt first.

Molly took the blade and inspected it, grimacing slightly.

“Why me?” he moaned.

Molly was more solemn for the rest of the day. The sun set, and the pair continued their trek in the twilight.

Sier watched him walk in silence at first, not knowing where to begin in consoling the man. Molly’s tail swayed slowly, and the tension had returned to his shoulders. His legs moved mechanically, and his head was bowed in thought.

After a few miles of silence, Molly huffed.

“Would you tell me more about the Moonweaver?” He looked down at his boots and scuffed one toe with the other to dislodge some snow. “I spent my whole life in the Empire, so, you know...”

Sier covered the basics quickly. Sehanine was the goddess of the moon, of autumn, of illusions and dreams. She was important in elven culture to the north, where Her name was often invoked by young lovers seeking to hide their trysts. She desired Her followers to live freely and with passion, unburdened by oppressive law, and to find love and joy.

Molly nodded along with all of this.

“That’s exactly what life was about, in the carnival.” He stared far ahead, deep in memory. “We went where we pleased, used illusion and tricks to bring people joy, and I definitely heard a few ‘trysts’ in my time.” The corners of his mouth curled upward in a smirk.

“Is that where you first learned of Her?”

“No. Well, I suppose that’s where I was first told of Her, but you could say that I knew Her before that. We used Her imagery a lot in the carnival. It lends itself well to the trade, you know?”

Molly removed the sun-faded red coat from where it was tied around his waist, under his borrowed winter cloak. He ran his fingers reverently over the fine embroidery, which was every colour of the rainbow.

“Our main tent looked a lot like this,” he said, and held the fabric out. Motifs of many symbols, and of suns and moons and stars covered the coat. The moons did seem to dominate the garment, however, and when Molly turned it around Sier could see that the lining was adorned by hundreds of tiny crescents. “Some of the people there might have been secret followers; I wouldn’t know. People tended to keep their cards close to their chests, and frowned upon asking questions about pasts. All I know is that everything I heard about Her really spoke to me. ‘New experiences’ and all that, from Her commandments. Since everything was new to me.”

Molly stopped in the middle of the road and turned to face Sier.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t easy, so do you mind if we at least sit and have some wine while I do it?”

“Not at all,” said Sier. Molly had been stronger than they expected that day, and the two had made good time. Sier moved to the side of the road and began to intone the incantation for the hut, while Molly began searching the haversack for rations.

Once protected from the elements under the shimmering shelter, Molly removed the winter cloak and slid into his threadbare red coat, pulling it tight around himself like a security blanket. He looked as if he didn’t know where to begin, so Sier broke the silence.

“When I found your grave, I communed with Her. I asked if you were someone important to Her.”

Molly’s head snapped up, and his unreadable red eyes bored into Sier’s own.

“She showed me images. Brief flashes of your life, of joy and of good deeds done. I believe it was Her way of telling me of your importance. And because I did not know if I had the strength to carry out Her will, I also asked if it was within my power to raise you.”

Molly flinched. This was not having the reassuring effect Sier had hoped. They shifted tactics, and handed him the wineskin.

“I tell you this because She also granted me a vision of what may have been your origin. So please do not feel compelled to share if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Molly let out a deep breath. “Oh.” He took a deep draught from the wineskin. “Well, I suppose that makes it a lot easier,” he chuckled.

There was a quiet moment as Molly collected his thoughts. Sier gave him the space he needed, respectfully focusing their attention on the hem of his coat.

“I guess you could say that She’s been with me since the very start,” Molly began. “I woke up under a full moon. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen — not that that’s saying much, given I didn’t remember a lick — but it was enthralling. The carnival people found me out there, dragged me to safety. It was near here, apparently. I wouldn’t know; don’t remember anything from the first month or so, except for how beautiful that first glimpse of the moon was.

“They taught me everything I know. Some things came back through muscle memory, but I had to be taught everything else. Manners, lore, I didn’t know any of it. When I asked about the moon, they told me about the Moonweaver. I was really hungry for stories back then, something to fill up the emptiness I felt. And like I said, the idea of a deity who wanted their followers to seek new experiences really spoke to me, as someone who had no experiences at all. I wanted to forge my own destiny, and leave behind anything that may have come… before.

“I always felt very connected to Her, even if She seemed to have an indirect effect on my life. I guess that I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed now, knowing that She’s chosen me for something and not even knowing what that means.” He dragged on the wineskin again.

Sier was sympathetic. The gods were not exactly direct in their communication, and until mere days ago they too were feeling aimless in their service.

“Perhaps it would help to know a bit more of the history of the gods,” they suggested. “Their past exploits may help inform us of their future expectations. I am no scholar, but I do know more than most about such things.”

“Please, regale me,” said Molly, sweeping an open palm through the air. “I’ll take any help I can get, and the gods know I’m all talked out for the evening.”

History from before the Divergence was mostly lost to time, but Sier did know of Sehanine’s role in the Calamity, and the valiant actions of Her followers in the aftermath thereafter. They recited the story of how She worked with the Allhammer, Moradin, to construct a cage in the north of what was now Xhorhas to contain the Crawling King, Torog, and how Pelor and Sarenrae fought and bound him there so that he could be banished. They recounted how the King’s Cage became corrupted thereafter, and how Sehanine’s followers fought Torog’s at its gate. How those celestials martyred themselves to seal His champion there, a twisted creature that could not be killed.

Molly listened with interest through it all, though his tiredness was plain to see. He grimaced at the description of Torog’s champion. Sier understood. The Laughing Hand was a true horror and if the stories were to be believed, unkillable. Countless of the Moonweaver’s warriors had perished in the struggle to contain it.

With no more histories springing to mind, Sier fell into a comfortable silence. Molly seemed disturbed by the histories. Perhaps it had not been the best idea to discuss them before sleep.

“Is it possible… that it got out?” Molly asked, voice weak.

Sier considered. They had not been to Xhorhas in many decades, which meant that news of happenings in somewhere as remote as Bazzoxan were unlikely to reach them. But something as destructive as the Laughing Hand would surely cause word to spread quickly…

“It seems unlikely. From what I understand, the seals were very strong.”

Molly nodded vigorously, as if trying to convince himself that it were true. Sier’s eyes narrowed. Molly was leaving something left unsaid, but they were uncertain what it could possibly be.

“Is there a reason you ask?”

Molly’s eyes stared a thousand yards ahead.

“Just, some dreams I had. I don’t know what they meant, but I saw a monster like what you described. Who’s to say whether it’s real or not. Probably all in my imagination. Fever dreams from the resurrection sickness. Yeah.”

Sier wasn’t so sure, but did not want to press the man too hard.

“You are probably correct,” they reassured, though there was no conviction behind the words. “An errant memory, mixed with stories to create a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” said Molly, weakly. “Well, I bloody well hope I don’t get any more of those tonight.” He handed the wineskin back and rolled to a laying position. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” they echoed, and waited for his breaths to lull into the gentle pattern of sleep.

Once it was safe to do so, they used a few spells to reach out to a colleague in Rosohna to inquire after any recent happenings in the vicinity of Bazzoxan.

Chapter Text

The rest of the trip to Shadycreek Run passed without any more major events. Molly continued to have vivid dreams, but he was unsure which (if any) were visions and which were simple fever dreams brought about by the exhaustion from his recent resurrection.

With each passing day he felt stronger — physically, at least. The ache in his bones abated with each night of sleep, but a dread grew as he neared the town that had once been the Mighty Nein’s destination. A destination he had died before reaching.

He wondered what the aftermath of the battle with the Iron Shepherds was, not for the first time. It was a thought he chased away constantly during the days of travel, with varying degrees of success. Forcing it out of his mind by drowning his attention with idle chatter did work at times, but his limited two years’ worth of stories often led back to thoughts of the rag-tag group of adventurers.

It was certain that some of them had survived the battle on the road: someone had written him a note, after all. Still, the prospects of the remaining three being able to free the rest without him seemed bleak, even with the help of that dwarf woman who had been with them. Many a time as he walked, Molly found himself ruminating over their fates while worrying at the corners of the folded paper in his pocket.

His hands itched to shuffle his deck, to do a reading for this question that burned in his mind, but he had no cards. Besides, a little voice told him, there was nothing real to be found in those readings. The voice sounded suspiciously like Beau’s, and his heart hurt all the more for it.

On the outskirts of the town, Sier stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. They held a small purse out to him, and his eyes went wide.

“This is for you, to replace the equipment that you lost to theft or decay. I do not want you to feel restricted in your choices, hence why I am giving this to you directly.”

“No, friend, you’ve done plenty for me already. I can’t take this; it’s me who should be repaying you,” he balked.

“Money is no object,” they insisted. “I have spent the past months wandering the Empire, helping followers of Sehanine in need of aid. This is no different.” They gently placed the purse into his hand and closed his fingers around it, holding his hand closed.

“It is my pleasure to give this to you. No matter which path you take from this point forward, you will need supplies. Please, take it, and use it to fulfill your destiny.”

Molly gave a grim nod. Sier had said that they had retired from a life of successful adventuring and they did seem well-off, but Molly was unused to charity. The gesture was overwhelming. He placed the purse in a pocket, where it seemed to weigh heavier on him than the size normally would.

“I…” He faltered. “I don’t know where to go, truth be told. This whole ‘destiny’ thing is beyond me. I don’t know what the Moonweaver wants from me, I don’t know where my friends are… hells, I don’t even have a home to go back to. Can I stay with you, at least for now?”

He sounded desperate, he realized. He felt desperate. It was a crushing feeling, realizing that he had never once in his life been alone, and the prospect of it left him feeling as empty as he did two years previous when he’d first been found in the woods. His throat felt dry.

“I promise I’ll pull my weight,” he swore, rushing to justify his request. “You mentioned exploring ruins? That’s something I can help with — I’ve got a good eye, I’m good in a scrap, I can cook--”

Sier raised one mittened hand. “You are welcome to accompany me on the expedition to Molaesmyr. Please do not feel that it is a burden. We are kin by faith, and it would be my honor to help you in any way you should need.”

There was a certainty, a conviction to their words that left Molly’s head spinning. His time in the carnival had shown him that people were quick to judge a stranger, and that trust took time. Yet here was a near-complete stranger giving him their clothing, money, and offering to help him ‘in any way he should need.’

Words failed him, not for the first time since he’d been raised. In lieu of words, he reached for Sier’s hand and took it in his own in an overhand fashion, so that they were clasping one another’s thumb and their arms were close to parallel. Molly squeezed their dusky hand in his own and tried to pass all the thoughts he couldn’t verbalize through the gesture: the gratitude for their help, the bewilderment that they cared so much for a stranger, the deep desire to do right by them. It wasn’t nearly enough, not compared to all they had done for him. But it was a start.

They stood entwined for a long moment. When Molly finally pulled back, he felt Sier’s perceptive gaze on his tail, which was flitting in betrayal of his anxiety.

“I know what it is like to not have a home.” Their voice was low, and their half-lidded eyes swam with memory. “Though I was raised in Xhorhas, my mother died long ago. I was not easily accepted in drow society, so I left when I was still quite young by elven standards. I have not stayed in one place for more than a few years since. As I suspect you also experience, unkind eyes follow me everywhere I go.”

Molly nodded, remembering all the times he’d been called ‘devil,’ refused service, even run out of town. His appearance made it easy to separate the proverbial wheat from the chaff: to determine who was kind of heart and who was not. If there was even a twinge of the brow when someone first looked him over, they were probably not worth his time.

“This is how I came to find a group such as your own. We were a peculiar bunch, and we came together for safety. Without them, I feel vulnerable.”

It was like they had taken Molly’s thoughts and put them into words. His eyes burned and he nodded vigorously, swallowing around the lump that prevented him from talking.

“Come, let us find a place to stay the night.” They offered him a hand. Molly snatched it up gratefully, and kept close to their side as they entered the city.

Shadycreek Run buzzed with activity. Smoke rose from every chimney, and in some open areas figures conversed hunched over braziers. Carts laden with goods passed in every direction, usually guarded by people with well-worn arms and armor.

Molly remembered what Keg had said about the city, and it rang true. The looks that he and Sier received as they walked through the town ranged from distasteful to predatory. Molly put his free hand on the hilt of his scimitar and adopted an expression he hoped would make opportunists think twice.

As a greasy rogue-like character slunk from his sight, he realized suddenly that he didn’t have any armor. His leather jerkin had been slashed through by Lorenzo’s glaive, and then left to rot slowly in the ground for a year. It had been beyond saving, and so they had left it behind along with the tattered remains of his clothing and tapestry.

Feeling a bit exposed, Molly was happy when they finally found an inn. The façade was made of beautifully stained hardwood that stood out from the ramshackle buildings around it, but it proved to be just that: a façade. The interior was no better than the dives Molly was used to, but at least those other places had been honest about their lack of standards.

Sier did the talking and secured them a room for the night as Molly kept watch on the room. There were a few small groups scattered about who appeared to be talking business, and a few solitary women who appeared bored. One approached a group of men but was waved away, and she returned to her seat with a huff. Whores, he thought. A bit early in the day to be working the room, but perhaps Shadycreek ran on a different sort of clock.

Something Sier said caught his ear and he turned back to the counter.

“Ever since the Jagentoths had their business crumble, that area’s been a lot safer,” said the wiry man behind the counter. He was middle aged, with a hairline receding far too much for the style he was attempting to pull off. “Used to be that you’d have to watch your back around here, or you’d wake up one day in a slaver’s cart. But not for ‘round a year now. You shouldn’t have any trouble reaching the ruins.”

Molly cleared his throat, testing his voice. It rattled a little, but the lump from earlier seemed to have finally passed. “What happened a year ago?” he asked.

“Nobody knows for sure, but there’s rumors galore. All that’s certain is that someone went in and took out the Iron Shepherds in one swift blow. I’ve heard folks say that the place was quiet as a graveyard, and that the bodies looked like they’d been dead for months even though some of ‘em had been seen alive just days before. They had a monopoly on the slave trade for a long time, and given how they were taken out, nobody’s been brave enough to take up the business yet.” The innkeeper shook his head, baring more of his sparsely-covered scalp.

“Nasty business, slaving. Can’t say most ‘round here are sad to see it go.”

“Absolutely nasty,” Molly mirrored, trying to keep his excitement out of his voice. “Glad to hear it’s gone.” He palmed the key on the counter and turned to Sier. “Dear, shall we run some errands while it’s still light out? There’s something I want to get before the morning.”

Sier nodded and returned their coinpurse to the side compartment of their haversack, allowing Molly to lead them back into the street.

Once the door was closed behind them, Molly did a spin and let himself relax.

“Gods, that was what I needed. Best news I’ve ever heard.” He nearly skipped.

“I take it the ‘Iron Shepherds’ were the ones to take your friends?” Sier asked with a wry smile.

“The very same,” said Molly. “Sounds to me like whoever survived our roadside encounter managed to avenge me, and that means that they’re out there somewhere. I just need to find them.”

He scoured the thoroughfare for armorers. Nothing immediately appeared, though he didn’t stop long enough to squint at the letters on the signs. He rarely had the patience for that, and he was far too excited for it now.

He passed an apothecary, a general store, a cheap-looking jeweler. All excellent places to know, so he made a metal map as he went, but it wasn’t what he needed right now.

Then he saw it.

‘It’ was not an armory, nor even a leatherworker’s shop.

‘It’ was a display in a clothing shop. A royal blue winter coat, to be exact. It was lined with spotted white fur and hung to the thigh in the front, and to the calf in the back. It was double-breasted with golden buttons, and had a hood large enough to accommodate horns.

He had to have it.

It wasn’t particularly flashy, but the moment that Molly’s eyes had settled on it, he knew it had potential. He was already imagining the designs he could embroider on it as he breezed through the shop door.

A human woman sat behind a table strewn with bolts of cloth, and she startled as he entered. He may have slammed the door a little in his enthusiasm, in her defense. She quickly schooled her face into a smile, though her eyes still betrayed a bit of fear.

“Oh, hello! Is there something I can help you with, err--” She scanned Molly from top to bottom, but abandoned her search for an appropriate honorific.

“Yes, hello, I’m buying this coat. How much is it?”

He started to pull the coat off the display as Sier entered. The shopkeeper flinched, terror in her eyes, and she rushed over to help him extract it more carefully from its stand. Sier watched on with amusement.

Molly swapped his borrowed cloak for the royal blue coat immediately, and twirled in it. The extra fabric spun outward with the movement just the way he liked, and he sighed with contentment. There was something about wearing someone else’s clothes, something that left him feeling off. He was suddenly hyperaware of the rough texture of the breeches and tunic that he wore, and he scanned the store like a hunter looking for prey.

It didn’t take long for him to have a small pile of things that suited both himself and the weather. Woolen leggings, long blouses with warm linings, and thick socks formed a small pile on the table in a variety of colours. Molly convinced the seamstress to sell him some silver thread and a needle along with the bunch, and then began pestering her about beads.

He grinned as he paid, counting out each precious gold coin as Sier folded the clothes into the hackersack. “Just for now,” they assured him. “We will get you a bag of your own soon.”

“Thanks so much for your help, dear,” Molly said, handing the girl an extra gold coin.

“You’re very welcome, Mister…?”

“Molly,” he supplied.

“Right…” she said, drawing out the word as she studied him again.

Molly snickered as they left the store. “Have you ever seen someone so confused in your whole life?” he cackled.

“I am not certain if you were aware, but it was a store specializing in women’s fashions,” retorted Sier, smirking. “But yes, I tend to have a similar experience when I purchase garments. Now, is this what you simply had to have before sundown?”

Molly flushed, remembering his original goal.

“Oh, err, no. I wanted to find some armor before some cocky arsehole tries to gut me, but can you blame me for getting distracted?” He twirled again.

Luckily, Sier only seemed amused by his antics.

“There was an armorer this way.” They moved toward a side street, and he followed.

By noon the next day, Molly was fully outfitted with studded leather armor, traveling gear, and a few small luxuries. He felt a new person in his new clothes, more real and present in his body than he had since he came out of the ground. He took a moment to savour the sun on his face, the ice on his lashes, the smokey smell of the air around him.

It felt good to be alive. It felt good to have hope. Though he didn’t know exactly what recent happenings meant, he had a new goal. He pursued it eagerly.

There had not been much more information to be gleaned from the local shopkeepers about the Iron Shepherds or their fate. Rumors only, whispers of the possible involvement of the Mardun family or groups of mercenaries with juvenile names. All apparently denied involvement, and their alibis gave them credible deniability. Molly supposed this meant that his allies had acted alone, then, or perhaps with a few unaffiliated others. The grizzly description of the decomposed bodies left behind certainly didn’t fit the bill for any of his friends’ skillsets.

So, he was at the end of this particular line of investigation. Sier assured him that they would be able to ask around at the Molaesmyr expedition camp, which would be populated by lore seekers from several different stakeholders. If the Mighty Nein had made a reputation for themselves, it would be found there, or through messages sent through the scholars’ networks. All Molly had to do was wait.

Patience was not his strong suit. In two years of life, the most he ever had to wait for anything had been on the road between carnival shows, a time that had been filled for him by others with near-constant socialization.

And so, Molly steeled himself for the potential stretches of boredom to come. His bag was filled with potential projects to occupy both his mind and his hands: embroidery, the creation of a new tarot deck. He even purchased a small journal to keep track of his dreams. His writing skills may have been lacking, but he didn’t trust his memory. In order to properly unravel the tangle of imagery, he would need a reliable record of each vision.

He set the past days’ dreams to paper painstakingly over lunch. It took a frustratingly long amount of time for him to do so, and he sighed as the ink dried on the first page. Sier looked up from contemplating the contents of their soup at the sound.

“It will get easier with time.”

“Sorry?”

“Your letters.” They indicated at the little book with their spoon.

Ah. Of course. They had seen him attempt to read that note just days before. Of course they had noticed his struggle. Molly flushed with embarrassment and closed the journal. Change the subject, his mind insisted.

“So, how long does it take to find this place? Should we be leaving soon?”

Sier straightened. “I have been told that it is less than half a day’s travel, but if we wish to arrive before sundown we should indeed leave soon. How is your vision in the dark?”

“Good enough. I won’t fall on my face, but I can’t exactly spot a camp in the distance without any light to guide me.”

“I can see well enough for the both of us, though we should still avoid being exposed when the nocturnal creatures come out. If you are finished, we can leave now.”

Molly hid the journal in a pocket, and shouldered his pack.

It was not difficult to find the encampment. They just walked to the nearest edge of the ruins and followed the smoke trails from there.

It was dinner time when they arrived, so Molly wandered over to the communal eating space while Sier went to track down their contact here. After he explained that he’d come to join the expedition, he was given a bowl and a small loaf. Settling down on a bench, he tucked in and took stock of his surroundings.

The crew was not large. A few elves and dwarves sat about the tables, though some of the elves seemed gruffer and some of the dwarves seemed lither than he had expected. Interesting.

His attention was redirected as someone with long legs clambered over the bench next to him. Molly turned to face them and found himself with a face full of sleeve. The figure was tall, very tall. The top of his head barely reached their shoulder, which was garbed in a shimmery teal fabric. They settled their tray on the table and turned to look down at him.

“Hello! You must be new here. I’m Clarabelle. What’s your name?”

Clarabelle looked down at him from her vantage, face beaming with genuine cheer. Her hair was a wild tangle of colours: mostly pink, but also purple, teal, and blue.

Molly felt as if his heart had stopped.

It took a moment to regain awareness of his surroundings, and when he did he quickly shut his jaw, which had been gaping impolitely.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service. Molly to my friends.” He gave a little curtsy with the folds of his coat. Clarabelle giggled and gave a little bow. “I came with a friend. They’ll be back soon.” He really shouldn’t… but no, he couldn’t stop himself. “Gods above, I love your hair. I hope that’s not too forward.”

Clarabelle simply beamed at him. “And I love your feather!” she said, voice bouncing from word to word with a little pause between each. She poked him on the cheek with one long, fuzzy finger. He got the distinct impression that she was a teenager, which was oddly terrifying given that she already loomed over him by a full head while sitting.

“So Clarabelle, how old are you?” Molly asked between bites.

“I’m 34, how old are you?” She drew out the last word in a way that felt teasing.

Thirty four? How old did firbolgs live, exactly?

“I’m two years old,” Molly said, holding up two fingers and grinning.

“You’re pulling my tail!” she exclaimed. Molly looked back, and sure enough, she had a tail. It was thicker than his and ended in a tuft of pink hair. He wondered if Pumat Sol had had one. He had never thought to look.

“Bahamut’s honor,” he swore, “I’ve only walked this earth for two years.”

She squinted at him, looking skeptical.

“Well you’re not lying, but you’re not telling the whole truth, either.”

Molly was about to ask just how old 34 was for a firbolg when Sier stepped into the tent, holding the flap for a woman in flowing white robes and brown leathers. They made eye contact with Molly and made their way over to his table.

Sier introduced the woman as Reani. She was positively radiant: literally. Her brown skin was covered in a scattering of golden freckles and seemed to glow with a faint aura of light. Molly was once again agape at the appearance of a stranger.

“So you’re the new moon friend? Welcome! Oh my gosh, Sisi, you didn’t tell me he was pretty!” She looked over her shoulder at the elf, then turned back to Molly. “Do you want a flower crown?”

“I… where… it’s winter,” Molly sputtered out.

“Please, Reanminere, the briefing? You may adorn Mollymauk later.” Sier spoke with the patience of someone used to handling Reani’s energy.

She stuck out her tongue at hearing what must have been her full name. “Right,” she said, and clapped her hands and sat down next to Molly on the bench. Sier unfurled a map of the local terrain and moved a lantern and a knife to weigh down the edges.

Clarabelle leaned in and whispered to Molly conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

She wove her fingers and a flower appeared in her hands. The another. Then another. As each flower bloomed into existence, Molly stared with wonder.

“So, this is where our camp is right now,” announced Reani from his other side. Molly snapped back to attention and looked at the point she indicated on the map, not too far west of Shadycreek Run.

“And this is where we’ve been excavating.” She moved her finger over to an area to the northwest. “It’s already been cleared out of the really obviously valuable stuff. Some bad people came and stole it all to sell it—” Sier shot her a glance, “—but that’s not what I’m here for. Right now…” she added under her breath, glancing up at Sier through her eyelashes.

“And this—” she swept her hand across the forest to the north, “—is the Savalirwood. It used to be all corrupted. The plants were really sad and weird colours, and the animals were scary, and the whole place smelled like bad magic. But ‘Belle and her family fixed it recently!”

Clarabelle beamed.

“This is where we live,” she chimed in, pointing at a spot on the map labeled ‘The Blooming Grove.’ “It’s a temple to the Wildmother. She sent us on a mission to fix the corruption, and we did it! Well, Caduceus did; the rest of us got turned to stone. But it’s all fixed now!”

“But now that the corruption has been pushed back thanks to their ritual, the spooky animals are fleeing south.” Reani frowned and swept her hand back to an area of the map where ruins were outlined, near the forest’s border.

“We think the source of the corruption is still around here somewhere,” she continued. “Because parts of the forest here are still all twisty. And now the animals are pushing into the ruins, which has made it kind of dangerous to work here. That’s why I called Sier. The reason I’m here is because those squishy nerds hired me to protect them,” she waved a hand at the crew members clad in blue and green robes at the other tables, “but it’s become too big of a job for just me and Belle.”

A light pressure settled on Molly’s head. Looking up, he could just barely make out the edge of white and pink flower petals.

“I’m not very strong yet,” Clarabelle said from over his head. “I only left home with Reani a few months ago, and before that I almost never left the walls of the Grove. But you look pretty strong.” She poked Molly in the side, just above the handle of his scimitar.

“If it’s just animals, I can definitely help,” he replied, trying not to think of the outcome of his last battle. “I’ve taken down giant alligators in the swamp, and even a manticore, once.” He preened a little bit under Clarabelle’s starstruck gaze.

“But, uh, I can’t stay forever. I’ve got to meet up with some friends, once I track them down.” He tried to sound apologetic, though if one of the Mighty Nein had showed up right then, he wouldn’t have hesitated to leave without more than the quickest of goodbyes.

“That’s okay!” exclaimed Reani. “We’ll be happy for any help we can get, and Sisi is here to help us now. Sometimes friends are just around for a bit, that’s okay. But if you’re a moon friend, then you have to promise to come visit me if you’re ever in Uthodurn.”

Molly had no bloody idea where that was. He had never paid any attention to which city was where while he had been with the carnival, so his mental map basically spanned from Trostenwald to Zadash to Shadycreek Run. But he agreed, to be agreeable, and made a mental note to look at a map some time in the near future. Wait a second, Sisi?

“Erm, out of curiosity, what exactly is a ‘moon friend?’”

Reani giggled. “Oh, that’s just what I call all Sier’s Moonweaver follower friends that they find. That’s how we met — they thought I was one of Her followers. And don’t get me wrong, she’s super great, I just have someone else who I work for. But technically I do get some of my power from the moon, so I’m like, an honorary moon friend?” She shrugged. “Samliel tells me to help good people and kill evil people, and the Moonweaver is one of the really nice gods so I’m always willing to help out Sisi’s moon friends.”

An arm stretched over Molly’s head and deposited a crown of light blue and violet flowers on top of Sier’s silver locks. Reani beamed as they sighed.

“We have so much catching up to do!” she exclaimed, gathering Sier’s hands up in her own. “We should be roomies. We can stay up all night to talk! Don’t give me that look, I know you don’t need to sleep.”

Molly chilled. Would he be expected to stay alone here? He hadn’t slept alone since… since Yasha came. And while there were times he could have handled it, he wasn’t in a good state at the moment. The first few nights after his resurrection had been especially difficult: he had struggled to come back to reality upon waking and once he did, the anxiety set in. He had spent a lot of time on the road trying to occupy his mind, mostly by telling stories and weaving tales. With his purchases in town he could certainly stay busy, but that didn’t help when it came time to sleep.

He was pulled from his spiraling thoughts by a light pressure on his arm. Clarabelle leaned into his field of view.

“Do you want to stay with me?” she asked. “I can teach you how to do your hair.”

Her smile was soft, and her eyes too knowing. Molly felt transparent under that gaze, and flushed a little. Hopefully it wasn’t too noticeable with his skin tone. People had told him that his eyes and skin made him difficult to read, but he certainly didn’t feel that way under Clarabelle’s gaze.

“Erm, if you don’t mind,” he mumbled, and she put a long arm around him.

“Of course I don’t mind, silly!”

He leaned into her side and she squeezed him in return.

“Besides, I want to hear more about how you’re only two years old but you’re as big as Reani!” she teased, and he laughed despite his anxiety.

At least they’d have plenty to talk about.

Chapter Text

Accommodations were sparse, but comfortable.

Clarabelle led Molly to her room, which was part of the ruin that had been repaired to be complete and structurally sound. It had a basic wooden door, table, and chair, as well as a brazier and pallet. Molly placed his bag next to the door as Clarabelle produced a magical flame in her hands, then placed it in the brazier.

“It’ll heat up pretty fast, don’t worry,” she assured him. She untied the clasps of her shiny teal armor, removing it and placing it next to Molly’s bag. With a soft whumph, she gracelessly dropped to the pallet with arms outstretched.

“So, two years old, eh?” Her smile was toothy. Molly noticed that she had no canine teeth; every tooth was broad and flat. He smirked back, his much pointier grin juxtaposing her own.

“Not too much to tell, really. Something happened to me around two years ago; woke up without so much as a name. Traveled around with a carnival for a while.”

“Ooh, what’s a ‘carnival?’” she asked, launching into a string of questions.

Molly was all too happy to tell her stories about his time in the carnival, though he left his origin vague, and made no mention of his recent hiatus under the ground. Clarabelle was mostly interested in hearing about the world, so he indulged her as he started embroidering his new coat.

The design he had in mind this time would take much less work than his last one, but he was excited for it nonetheless. He had managed to find some lovely glass beads in town that had a faint iridescent sheen when the light hit them, and he started sewing them onto the deep blue fabric in little clusters. Once a group was laid out to his liking, he took the silver thread and connected them with delicately stitched lines.

He managed to finish three constellations on the back of the coat before he began to yawn.

“We should sleep,” said Clarabelle, regretfully. “I think the Auditors want to go out early again tomorrow.”

Molly hummed his agreement, and rolled out his new bedroll in the space between the pallet and the table. It was very short compared to Clarabelle’s bed, and looked comically small. Then, Molly supposed that he looked comically small next to her. Standing, he could probably fit under her arm if it were outstretched.

A memory of sleeping tucked under Yasha’s arm came to him, unbidden. His heart ached, but he pushed the thought away. He had to stay strong, just long enough to find out where she was. Part of him wondered if she had stayed with the group after his death, or if she’d wandered off as she was often wont to do.

His roommate fell asleep quickly, but Molly laid under his blanket for a long time watching shadows dance across the wall from the fading brazier fire. When nothing but embers remained, Clarabelle stirred and rolled over on her pallet to face him. He shut his eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep.

All was quiet for a moment, but then he heard the blankets stir again. A hand covered his. He jumped at the unexpected contact, but did not pull away.

With that soft pressure keeping him tethered, it was easier to fall asleep.

As he had been warned, a page came to wake them early the next morning.

The day’s expedition group came together and left the camp just after first light. The pink light from the east cast long shadows in the mist, giving their surroundings an eerie atmosphere. The four adventurers trekked north in a loose semicircle around two auditors, who carried notebooks and rolls of tools.

“No shovels?” Molly asked, noting the lack of a seemingly key piece of equipment for ‘excavating.’

“Nope, we’ve got magic for that!” said Reani cheerfully. She looked back at him. “Speaking of which, what can you do? You’ve got shiny swords, but can you do anything cool?”

Molly hesitated. His sword tricks had been popular at the carnival, but some of the other things he could do had a sinister feel to them. In one unnamed town, he had discovered his blood maledict when a man in a bar wouldn’t take no for an answer. The other patrons had run him out with cries of ‘devil’ and ‘fiend.’

He looked to Sier, who nodded subtly.

Swallowing, he began to describe his abilities. “Well, I can use my blood to bring extra power to my weapons. Ice, and light. The light works wonders against undead.”

“Oh good, there’s a fair amount of those around here,” Clarabelle piped up from his flank.

Molly sniffed the air. “I don’t feel any around right now,” he said with relief. It was far too early for a scrap. “I suppose that’s another thing I can do. Unnatural things kind of… tingle in my mind. And I can blind things. That looks bloody terrifying, but it’ll let you get a solid hit in. How about you all?” He recalled the flower magic from the night before, and Clara’s summoned flames.

“I can change into a scorpion or a bear or a wolf or an eagle or a snake.” Reani said, as if it were nothing. “And I can do druid stuff, but it’s a big list. I mostly like talking to animals, summoning animals, making friends with animals…”

“That doesn’t work with the corrupted animals from the Savalirwood, though,” added Clarabelle. “They’re angry, and not really animals anymore. Out of the Wildmother’s domain.” Sadness tinged her voice.

“Yeah, so I just, you know, giant scorpion.” Reani moved her hands like claws, attacking the air. “Belle can do it too, but she likes to stay back and do spells.”

Clarabelle’s nose wrinkled. “It tickles when I turn into an animal. I don’t like it. Besides, I’ve got my fire, and I can heal people if they need it.”

Some of the tension in Molly’s body washed away with the knowledge that there were multiple healers in the group. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about a repeat of his last battle experience.

They came to the entrance of a large stone building. There were many signs of recent activity here: humanoid footprints in the dust, a barrel of water, and a few burning torches. Molly thought it odd that the torches had burned through the night, but as he looked at them longer he noticed that they didn’t flicker and dance like a normal flame. Enchanted, then.

“So, this is where we’ve been working,” said Reani. “We’ve made it pretty far in, but there’s still plenty to explore.” She turned to the auditors. “Either one of you nerds want to explain what we’re looking for?”

The robed figures didn’t seem insulted by her choice of words. Perhaps they were used to it. The taller one, an elf with a thin moustache, spoke up. “We are looking for any and all writings, be they on paper or otherwise. We have found some text on the walls accompanying murals, so keep an eye out for things such as that. Any artifacts would be of interest, especially things that are of an arcane nature. In previous sites, we have found crystal fragments that were interesting but unsalvageable, and we hope to find intact pieces of this type.”

Molly nodded. It was the usual sort of thing that made Caleb’s eyes light up. He could handle that.

“I’ll be marking where we’ve been with my personal rune in Druidic,” said Reani, removing some chalk from a pouch. She pointed to a marking on the wall. “It looks like this. I always put the on the left side of the wall, so if we get separated, put them on your right and follow them out. Remember ‘runes right returning,’ if that helps.”

Easy enough, though Molly hoped not to find himself alone down here. It felt too much like a tomb, and he wasn’t certain if he could handle that alone.

“Belle is the only one who can’t see in the dark, I think. But she can make her own light. How about you?”

Molly grinned. He may not have a lot of magic, but that was one thing he could do. He drew a scimitar with a twirl — noting that the runes glinted faintly in the dark already — and drew it across his skin. As the small offering kissed the blade, it began to shine with a bright light.

The light was also different, he noticed with curiosity. While before it had shone with the warm light of the dawn, now the light was silvery. Like moonlight.

“Perfect! Now we don’t have to load you up with torches. Shall we?”

They had to walk a fair distance before they reached uncharted territory. Following Reani’s little chalked runes wasn’t too difficult: they were at eye level and the white of the chalk stood out starkly against the dark grey of the damp stone. When they entered a room with an empty hearth and the broken remains of what appeared to have once been sitting room furniture, they stopped.

“This room is clear, but they didn’t finish taking notes on the wall stuff yesterday.” Reani waved at the mozaic in the hearth mantelpiece. “We’re going to scout ahead and let them do that. Wait, actually…” She stuck her head in the fireplace, looking up the flue.

“Nope, we’re clear. Anyway, there’s a hall over there that looked like servants’ quarters or something, and kitchens going the other way. Wanna split up? We’ve got two people who can take hits and two spell people, now.”

Clarabelle grabbed Molly’s hand. “We haven’t even found anything bad in this part of the ruin yet, and all the doors have been sealed, so there’s not going to be any animals from outside.”

“Yeah,” Reani agreed. “It’ll be faster this way. The faster we chart this place, the faster I can get this contract over with. Whaddaya say, roomie?”

Sier considered it. “If the two of you have been safe enough on your own until now, I suppose it will be fine.”

“Great!” said Clarabelle, tugging on Molly’s arm enthusiastically. They went the direction of the kitchens.

Clarabelle tapped her staff on the ground as they passed the threshold to the hallway. The wood rang hollowly upon the marble floor, and Molly startled when the pink quartz at the top lit up. Right, Reani had said that Belle could make her own light.

Clarabelle took chalk out of her own pocket and marked their way as they went, leaving a different rune than Reani had.

“What’s it say?” Molly asked her. It looked pretty, but was meaningless to him.

“It’s a secret language, silly. I’m not supposed to tell you.”

Molly stuck out his tongue at her.

“Okay okay, I guess it’s not like I’m teaching you the whole language or anything. It means ‘fiery one,’ or something like that. Reani gets to be ‘lightbringer,’ so I wanted something equally cool.”

‘Fiery one.’ That made him think of Caleb. No, time for that later.

There were footprints on the floor, disturbances in the dust. There was a new layer of dust settled over them, so nothing recent, but someone had been through here in possibly the past ten years.

“It’s very cool,” Molly affirmed. They approached a door, which swung open freely when Molly pushed it.

After entering the kitchen, the door swung itself shut automatically, swinging slightly farther than its closed position before finally closing. A two-way door, for when servants’ hands were full with trays.

The kitchen itself was surprisingly intact. Remnants of meals long-since abandoned lay upon the countertops, little more than dust and bone upon tarnished dinnerware. A quick sweep of the room revealed no hidden threats, so the two began a more thorough sweep of the room as they talked.

“Your armor’s very pretty,” Molly said, opening a cupboard. It was stacked high with plates and bowls. He left the door open and went for another. “What’s it made of?”

“Giant beetle shells. Calliope made it for me!”

Another C name. He couldn’t remember the name from the night before, but it had definitely started with C as well. Maybe a family thing?

“A sibling?”

“Yeah. I have three. Calliope, Colton, Caduceus, and me. I’m the youngest. Caduceus left home with some people. This is his old staff.” She held it up for his inspection.

The next cupboard contained ceramic cookware, the one after that measuring implements. It went on and on in much the same fashion.

“Didn’t you say that he saved you? Something about being stone?”

“Oh yeah, that was embarrassing. Two of our family had gone out on a quest for the Wildmother, but never came back. So two more of us went to look for them. And then I went with Colton, and only Caduceus was left back at the Grove.”

She opened the oven, which was a huge stone appliance that took up an entire wall. Ash stirred in the air current, leaving swirls that shimmered in the air.

“We followed their trail and ended up in the jungle on the Menagerie Coast and found the temple to the Wildmother there. Everyone was made of stone, and then we got attacked and we turned to stone, too. The next thing I knew, Caduceus was there and was so old. It was weird.”

She closed a door with a slam.

“Oh my gosh, Molly, I just realized that I don’t know how old I am either!”

Molly laughed, then froze as something fell with a clang behind him.

Both of them turned to look at the tarnished copper bowl on the floor. It had been in one of the open cupboards just moments before, and neither of them had been standing anywhere near it.

“Did you see anythi—”

A cold feeling washed over Molly. It felt as if someone had dumped a pail of ice water over his head, and his brain short-circuited for a second. In his weakness, a tendril wrapped around his mind, trying to take control. With an electric jolt, he came back to awareness and the tendril retreated.

“This is my damned body!” he growled, looking for the source of the attack.

The room was silent for a moment as both he and Clarabelle searched frantically. Then he saw it: something moving in the floating ash by Belle’s head. He shouted a warning, but it was too late. A twisted humanoid figure materialized behind her, with hollow eyes and a puckered, gaping mouth. It lifted a withered hand and grabbed her by the neck.

Clarabelle screamed as tendrils of black energy rushed through her body. Molly reacted on instinct, leaping over the island countertop and swinging with his illuminated scimitar. It made contact, or it must have, as the creature gave a rattling howl as the blade passed through it. Molly felt no resistance.

The figure disappeared. Molly swore as he looked desperately, but could see nothing. He turned to Clarabelle. She was still alive, breathing hard and clutching her staff.

She raised her hands, casting a spell. Part of the room was covered in swirling teal light, but it faded.

“Uh oh,” she said, preparing another spell.

Molly readied his second sword, activating the ice rite. He still couldn’t see anything, but he focused on the ash, hoping to catch a sign of movement before the thing — the ghost? — reappeared.

He didn’t see as the ghost apparated behind him, but Clarabelle did. Her spell unleashed a cone of fire that singed Molly’s exposed skin, but was expertly angled to spare him the actual touch of the flame. Molly turned and swung again, connecting with nothing.

“This isn’t working!” Clarabelle called as she backed against the wall. Molly moved to do the same, but saw the ash shift to her right. He changed trajectory on a pin, lunging for the figure moments before it appeared, reaching again for Belle’s throat.

The rage in him was overwhelming as he saw that hand reaching for her. She was so young, so full of joy; how dare something try to take that from her? He sliced upward.

...And was met with a surprisingly solid target. The creature howled in shock at the impact, and Molly took the opportunity to swing with his off hand. And again.

The radiant sword had much more of an impact than the ice. The shadowy tendrils that flowed from its form themselves seemed to be sliced away as he slashed with it.

His final strike struck the core of the creature. Now that it was inexplicably solid, it was not difficult to hit. As the radiant scimitar drove through its torso, the shade seemed to become overwhelmed by light, and simply disappeared.

Molly breathed hard, bending to put his hands on his thighs.

“Molly?” breathed Clarabelle beside him.

He turned to her, but she was looking wildly around the room. “Molly?” she called again, panic in her voice.

Molly reached for her, and his hand passed though her arm like it was made of water. He recoiled.

“Clarabelle, I’m right here. Can you see me? Please tell me you can see me,” he begged.

There was no response.

No, no, no. Not now. It had been so long since he had felt like this, like he wasn’t really there. But that had just been a feeling, one banished by touch and eye contact and other connections to the real world. But Clarabelle couldn’t see him, couldn’t touch him.

Molly felt like he was drowning. He fell to his knees and shook, swords falling to his sides and losing their magic.

Of course it had just been a dream. There was no way that he could have survived that death, no way that anyone would have raised him. This was all some kind of twisted joke in the afterlife, some punishment from the Raven Queen.

He spiraled. The floor under his knees didn’t even seem to touch him. In his mind, he was in a void, drifting…

Then the hands clutched his face.

“Oh, Molly, what happened?”

He could only sob.

“It’s okay, I’m here now. Can you breathe with me?”

She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then released it slowly. Gently stroking his cheek, she repeated the motion. He tried to mirror her movement, but his breath still came in sharp gasps.

“That’s okay, when you can. Do you know where you are?”

Molly had to think. He’d been drifting… but then he’d woken up, and walked north. Yes, and now he was in the ruins, with new friends.

He nodded sharply, and Clarabelle beamed at him.

“Good!” she cooed, and started rubbing little circles on his back. He focused on the touch, so solid, so real.

Slowly, he came back to himself. It took a while, but Belle’s breathing exercise and grounding touch helped. He moved to get up, and Clarabelle helped pull him to his feet.

She picked up each sword and tucked them into his belt, then leaned down to look in his eyes again. He averted his gaze, sure that his eyes were swollen and puffy.

“Do you want to go back to the others?” she asked. Her voice was so tender, he almost cried again. It reminded him too much of Yasha. Throat thick with emotion, all he could do was nod.

Belle took his hand and twined her fingers through his own, leading him back down the hallway from where they came.

The auditors were still taking notes on the features of the sitting room. Clarabelle asked them if the others had checked in yet, and they shook their heads.

“Okay, well don’t go that way,” she warned. “There was a ghost. I think we killed it, but that wing isn’t clear yet.”

One of the auditors looked up at her, and his face took on a look of horror. Molly peered around to look at her front, and that’s when he saw the twisting black tendrils on her skin. His eyes went wide.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” she insisted. She traced a pattern in the air and hummed a little tune, and the marks faded somewhat. “See? All better.”

Molly wanted to protest, but his throat wouldn’t cooperate. He shook his head, hoping she would understand without words.

She tugged him towards the other hall. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve seen worse. But we should warn the others about the ghost. Reani and I haven’t seen one here before.”

Molly allowed himself to be pulled along, trying to stay somewhat behind Clarabelle as she explained what happened to Reani and Sier.

“That is alarming,” said the cleric. “It is something that we should discuss later.”

Molly really didn’t want to. If he could have, he would have erased the memory entirely, if not the event. But he knew it was unavoidable, so he didn’t protest.

The other unexplored branch of the ruins was a much more uninteresting affair. The quarters all appeared to belong to servants and were sparsely furnished and contained no artifacts worth anything to the auditors.

On the way back to camp, they explained that they had already been through the parts of this building that had belonged to the owner, who may have been some kind of politician or lesser noble. They didn’t expect to find anything in what remained, but it was prudent to leave no stone unturned.

As discussion turned to where the next exploration site would be, Molly tuned out a bit. He figured he only had an hour before he would be forced to relive the experience from earlier, and he wanted to get his thoughts in order before they started.

Chapter Text

In the end, they pinned him down before dinner. That was probably for the best, considering Molly’s stomach roiled as if it would reject anything he ate.

The gods were merciful after all, he thought as the door closed with only Sier and Clarabelle in the room with him. He didn’t think he could handle Reani’s energy right now, and the thought of yet another stranger knowing about his breakdown was just too much.

They sat in Clarabelle’s room, Sier in the wooden chair, Molly and Belle on the pallet. Belle put a hand on Molly shoulders before they started, and Molly leaned in, thankful for the touch.

“So, in the ruins earlier. I don’t know exactly what happened, but there was a ghost. It attacked us, and Molly saved me.”

Molly winced a bit, remembering the black lines that had trailed along her neck.

Sier nodded. “But, I take it that is not all that transpired?”

Molly shook his head, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“But then Molly disappeared, like the ghost did.”

All eyes were on Molly. He knew he had to speak. He took a swig of some wine he’d nicked from the mess hall, then cleared his throat.

“I think it’s part of the magic of my… of my previous life’s order. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me. In the carnival, there were a few times when I was under duress and the magic just came to me.”

Those other times were similarly terrible moments in his life, he reflected. He hated it when powers came to him unbidden, like memories surfacing in shifting sands. It was a reminder that this body had once not been his. That the previous owner might not be completely gone.

“I… I think I stepped onto the ethereal plane.”

He didn’t really know much about the planes, only that the ethereal plane and the material plane occupied the same space. He’d experienced seeing the ethereal plane only once, when he’d taken a hit of Skein with Beau in Zadash.

And yet, somehow, he also knew that ghosts were able to step between the material and ethereal planes. That they were incredibly difficult to hit because of how they could become incorporeal. That being ethereal oneself was the best way to combat them.

He felt sick at the knowledge. That knowledge — and those powers — came from somewhere. He was remembering them — and if he remembered that, what else might he remember? He’d had flashes of memories that weren’t his own before, none of them good, and he wanted nothing to do with them.

“Whoever had this body before me was some kind of undead hunter. I know things about undead that I shouldn’t, and every bit of magic that I’ve got caters towards killing them. It makes sense that there’d be a type of magic to help fight ghosts, too.”

Sier studied him appraisingly. “But that is still not all that happened.”

It wasn’t a question. Molly sighed. His new companions were too intuitive for their own good.

“No. I was stuck there for a good fifteen, twenty seconds?” Time had seemed to dilate once his panic had set in, so he wasn’t sure. He looked to Clarabelle, who nodded reassuringly.

“I can’t take any more of this rubbish from my past. I never asked for any of it. I don’t want to wait to find out what the next thing is. It’s all steeped in blood, and death, and I hate it.”

He put his head in his hands. Belle rubbed his back, but the room was otherwise silent.

After a considering moment, Sier spoke up.

“Have you considered a different line of training?”

“Would that help?”

“I cannot be certain, but I also believe it could not hurt. You seem regretful that your skills are of blood and death. I could teach you the ways of light and life.”

Molly considered. It sounded appealing, certainly. A positive counterpoint to the dark powers that crept in from his past; something to claim as his own.

It was also a unique opportunity. He had always worshiped the Moonweaver, and now She seemed to want something from him, and here was one of Her clerics, offering him training as if it were nothing. Molly had never even met another follower, let alone seen a temple or a cleric. It was as if the stars had aligned. By chance or by design, he didn’t know.

Remembering the strange magic he’d wielded in a dream, he made up his mind.

“I would like that. Even if I end up being rubbish at the magic part, at the very least I’d like to learn more about the right way to worship.”

Sier laughed softly. “Your worship is as real as mine,” they assured him. “Original perhaps, but genuine. But if you would like, we could start with some traditional prayers. Do you have a symbol of faith?”

Molly leaned over to retrieve his original coat with elaborate embroidery. Clarabelle oohed at the sight of it, touching the silky lining. He knew he’d seen a holy symbol when he’d taken stock of his possessions earlier, he just had to dig through the various pockets to find it. Eventually he found it: a small, silver symbol of a crescent moon strung like a bow. It was the nicest one he’d found in the Gentleman’s cache all the way back in the Labenda swamp. Although he had only experienced a few weeks since then, it felt like a lifetime away.

“Ah, good. That is all you would need to begin training, if you would wish to?”

“Maybe not tonight, I hope that’s alright.” Exhaustion from the panic attack had set in, and he didn’t think that he’d be able to get up again now that he’d sat down. “By the way, have you looked into my friends’ whereabouts? I haven’t asked anyone yet.”

“Ah, yes. I have asked the various auditors. Some said that the name seemed familiar, though they did not have any information. I have also sent messages to colleagues, who reside in the Empire and in Xhorhas. They will in turn ask their colleagues, and hopefully we will receive word soon.”

That was the best he could hope for, Molly supposed. He was lucky to even have someone with the ability to communicate over distances like this, let alone someone with contacts across the continent. He would just have to wait.

With the interrogation over, Molly slumped, drained.

“Will you eat dinner?” Clarabelle’s voice felt distant, but Molly could still hear the worry.

He shook his head and put a hand on his stomach. “Not unless you’ve got something I can keep down.”

Clarabelle hummed in thought, then brightened and snapped her fingers.

“I’ve got just the thing.” She grabbed the wine and left the room.

“Hey!” Molly shouted after her, but she was through the door in two strides. That height advantage was just not fair, he resolved.

Sier stood, straightening their robe. “I will leave you to your rest. We can meet in the evening tomorrow to begin your studies.”

“And so, I fall even further into your debt,” Molly lamented. He was really going to have to start figuring out a way to work towards rectifying that.

It took two more days to completely clear the section of ruins where they had encountered the ghost.

The actual act of ensuring it was safe had only taken half a day, but the auditors took their time examining every engraving, every piece of art, even the bones they had found in the kitchens.

With no more ghosts or other dangers to ward off, the group took to relaxing within shouting distance. Reani told stories of her work in Uthodurn, which left Molly a little starstruck. She was slowly dismantling an empire of corruption within some of the noble families there singlehandedly, whom apparently had ties to slaving. Molly felt that he had certainly hitched his cart to a good horse, because anyone who took down slavers was alright in his books.

Clarabelle talked about her family’s work in the cemetery to the south, and the beautiful gardens there. She said that the Wildmother’s blessing there meant it was temperate enough to grow certain kinds of plants year-round, so her mother would come to visit each week to bring fresh vegetables for the workers and staple foods for Clarabelle. Molly also discovered with surprise that Belle cooked all her own meals here.

“Don’t they pay someone for that?”

“Yeah, but she puts weird stuff in everything,” Clarabelle said, pouting. “Did you know that some people take eggs from birds and eat them? It’s so sad!” Her ears drooped.

Molly wondered exactly what was in the soup she had brought him the other night. It had been a light broth, but there had been small chunks of something white he couldn’t identify. Tasty, regardless. He promised to help her make meals if she would teach him about cooking. While he had helped make meals at the carnival, his experience was essentially limited to throwing meat and potatoes into a pot. Clarabelle’s meals were more elaborate.

She was excited at the prospect, and started rattling off a list of all the things she wanted him to try.

“What’s that last one?” he asked, the word completely foreign to him.

“Bean curd,” she replied.

“And the one before?”

“Bean cake.”

“Is it all beans?”

“No, the first thing I said is made out of wheat.”

“But all the rest is beans?”

She narrowed her eyes at him good-naturedly and he cackled, knowing he had caught her.

Each day after the evening meal, Sier and Molly sat down together to train.

The first things to learn were traditional prayers, first in Common — for “personal use and modification,” Sier said — then in Celestial.

“Celestial is the language closest to divinity,” Sier explained. “Sehanine’s warriors during the war against the Betrayer Gods were Celestials. I have also heard from a convert in the Empire who proclaims to have seen Her avatar in the past year. By their description, the avatar was a Celestial as well. The language is one I was taught during my time as an acolyte, and it lends itself well to prayers that carry more power.”

Molly wasn’t a great study, but he supposed he could memorize a few phrases. The bright sound of Celestial was very different to the harsh consonants of Infernal and the softly accented Common he already spoke, but it was simple enough to mimic. Sier explained what each prayer meant, and wrote them down for Molly to study.

They moved on to the basics of magic. Molly had expected to need to memorize complicated gestures, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that divine magic was very intuitive. The spells mostly required intention: a focus on what the caster desired to do, as well as a holy symbol as a focus. Sier gave a description of the basic spells and how to prepare them, then they moved on to practical examples.

One evening in a clearing under the light of the moon, Molly grasped at the holy symbol that now sat on his breast. He repeated a memorized prayer, a Celestial phrase meaning “by Her light, be revealed.” As the final word left his lips, precisely enunciated, the space around Sier was bathed in the light of an aurora. Most of the light faded in an instant, but some of it clung to Sier’s body. They were painted in softly shifting green and blue light, standing out brightly in the night.

Molly gasped in surprise then hooted in triumph, pumping a fist into the air. He lost concentration on the spell, but was too full of glee to care. In a rare display of emotion, Sier beamed.

They continued the training until Molly understood all of the most basic spells, including a few exclusive to the particular branch of followers of the Moonweaver that Sier was a part of. Molly particularly loved the first spell that he had successfully cast. Not only was it beautiful, but it also made targets much easier to hit. He prepared it every day, knowing that it would come in handy if they encountered anything in the ruins.

Molly had hoped that with his improved prayers to the Moonweaver that She would answer some of the questions he asked her before bed each night. Frustratingly, the visions continued to elude him. He was diligent in writing down his dreams each morning, just in case, but they lacked the potency of the visions that he’d received in the first few nights out of the grave.

Still, he looked for answers in his own ways. He sketched out the major arcana cards so he had a semblance of a deck, and gave himself a reading. It wouldn’t have the same weight without the coloured imagery, but it would have to do.

He laid out his old coat on the ground in a quiet corner outside, with the crescent moon lining facing up. Sitting down on the shoulders of it, he took a deep breath and began to shuffle. The crisp paper was unyeilding, but eventually the thick cardstock started to bend with his ministrations. There was no point trying to do any of the tricks he enjoyed until the deck was more broken in, but he did a few bridge shuffles to help bend the cards a bit more.

Finally, the deck just felt right. He stopped shuffling, and spread the cards out upon the silk, blank backs staring up at him in stark contrast to the dark fabric below. It reminded him of when he first woke up: technically a functional person, but so achingly blank. Pushing the thought away, he selected three cards from the spread and slid them out to lay above the rest, still face down.

Another deep breath. It was a simple reading: past, present, and future. It wouldn’t tell him much, but somehow he found himself fearful of what he would find when he flipped the cards.

With eyes closed, he flipped the first card: the past. He waited one more breath before opening his eyes.

The Fool. Expected, really, for an amnesiac who had lived two years sheltered in a carnival. It was part of what had drawn him to the Moonweaver in the first place: looking to fill his lack of experiences as She commanded.

Still, he tensed a bit. It was eerily accurate, in a way more real that the vague way that one could construct a narrative from any of the cards to fit someone’s life if one had enough experience. He felt a prickle in the back of his head, one that had previously brought him a feeling of assurance. This reading was more than chance, and it scared him.

He flipped the second card quickly, almost afraid that it would burn him. The Hanged Man. A state of limbo, a lack of direction. He huffed; that was exactly why he was trying this in the first place, and it wasn’t helping.

Irritated now, he flipped the final card. The Anvil. What was it he had said to Jester a lifetime ago? A destiny forged. Useless. It was as if the cards were telling him that there was no help coming, to figure it out on his own. He gathered them up and returned to the common area, seeking Sier.

“Have you heard back from any of your contacts yet?”

They looked up from their work, and he their eyes assess his demeanor as they swept over him.

“I have not. Most cannot send messages, so I must check in with them. It has only been a few days.”

“I know, I know. I’m just…” He sighed. The image of the Hanged Man danced in his memory. “I feel lost, I suppose.”

“I believe that we will find what you seek, it will just take time. My contacts have many connections, but it will take time for word to disseminate throughout the network.”

Molly nodded, hands balling in the fabric of the coat held before him. Waiting was easier said than done when he felt like he was drifting without a tether.

Sier rose and took his arm. “Come,” they said, and started leading him toward the kitchen.

Clarabelle was there, tying up dried figs and almonds into handkerchiefs while humming. That was one thing Molly loved about her: she doted on her friends like a parent, always making sure they had snacks during the day.

“Clarabelle,” Sier said, catching her attention. “Mollymauk would like to try one of your teas. The Casala, if you please.”

Molly caught a spark in her eye as she straightened. “Of course!”

She put a kettle on and started crumbling red flowers into a teapot. She looked at Molly, hummed with consideration, then added some yellow ones. She removed the kettle from the fire before it was truly boiling, and poured the steaming water over the floral mixture. Once the lid was on, she turned to Molly.

“Can you carry this? You know I have two left feet, and I don’t want to spill.”

He nodded and took the teapot, and they retreated to their room.

Once seated in the room, Clarabelle took the teapot. With a gentle push, she settled Molly on the edge of the pallet and thrust a large earthenware cup into his hands. He braced for her to ask him questions, knowing he couldn’t answer. To avoid having to talk, he took a sip of the steaming tea.

It was oddly sweet, for tea, with an earthy aftertaste that was surprisingly soothing. He breathed in the steam between sips.

“Better?” He nodded.

“Let’s get you comfy,” she said, tugging his coat off one shoulder. He didn’t resist.

Once the coat was hung neatly on the wall, she returned the mug to his hands, full once more. She pulled his boots off as well and dropped them by his pack. Stepping around him, she settled behind him on the pallet and combed his hair with her fingers.

“It’s getting long,” she observed. “I bet I could even braid it. Would you like that?”

“Mhmm.” He leaned into the contact. It was an obvious ploy for distraction, but he was thankful nonetheless. During the day when he was occupied with the task at hand, he didn’t worry about his future at all. It was only at night when his brain could run amok that the doubts seeped in. A distraction wasn’t a bad idea.

She worked her fingers through his hair for several minute, giving him a short Marquesian braid. After allowing him to inspect it in the reflection of a polished metal mirror from her nightstand, she shook it out and gave him two more. Each flowed around a horn, and they finished on either side of his neck.

It was getting late, he realized. He really should move to his bedroll. But his legs felt like lead, and leaning up against Clarabelle’s shoulder, he didn’t want to move.

At some point, the empty mug disappeared from his hand. He blinked at it on the table. When his eyes opened again, he was on his side, with a blanket over him. Clarabelle was extinguishing the light, and saying a prayer to Melora.

He blinked again, and it was morning.

Chapter Text

When they had cleared the last rooms of the current complex, they moved to a new section of the ruin. The auditors stayed behind to catalogue their existing data while the four adventurers (whom were apparently known as “the muscle” among the bookish types,) scouted the new site.

The entrance to the new site was mostly sealed, which was promising. While small animals were able to get inside through some crumbling sections of wall, there was no way for a person to get inside. Even Nott would have trouble scrambling through here, Molly thought.

The main door was made of stone and had long since been removed from its hinges. Reani took care of it with a spell, filling the cracks and reforming the hinges as the damage had never been there.

The first room was home to a few animals, but they weren’t hostile. Clarabelle apologized to them softly as she shooed them out the door, while the others put up the ever-burning torches from the previous site. Then they set about exploring further into the ruin. Molly pointed out that unlike the previous one, this one was undisturbed.

“That means the Jagentoths haven’t pillaged it yet. We might have a chance of actually finding something useful for once!”

They walked through elaborate rooms and hallways, marking their route with chalk as they went. Reani went up front and Clarabelle took up the rear, taking up the duty of chalking the runes since it was easier for her to catch up with her long legs.

The relative ease of the past few days quickly disappeared as they explored the newly-unsealed section of ruin. Every door they encountered was locked. Molly took it upon himself to be the one to learn lockpicking, since he had the most nimble hands. Each day they unearthed a few rooms, but it was very slow going compared to before.

“Did you really not have to do this until now?” he asked, three picks deep in what felt like the hundredth lock of the day. He worked by the light of the scimitar under his arm, and his knees ached from the cold stone floor.

Reani shrugged. “Not really. All the other sections had been picked through before, I guess.”

At least he was getting good at it. The last tumbler finally clicked in place and he couldn’t help but chuff as he inserted the tension wrench and turned the core. The bolt slid back, leaving the door unlocked. Molly stowed his tools and retrieved his sword from where it was tucked under his arm. “Shall we?”

His arm flared with pain as he turned the doorknob. Dark energy shot through the limb, moving through his body, towards the heart. It stopped suddenly as Reani grabbed him around the middle and pulled him back.

“What the bloody hell was that?!”

“Let me check.” Clarabelle’s eyes flared with pale light as she scanned the door. Her mouth formed a silent O, and she leaned in to inspect part of the frame more closely.

“Well, I guess we missed that. There’s some kind of strong necromantic power source on the other side. I can try to dispell it.”

“Please do,” said Sier, tending to Molly’s arm. They lowered their voice for Molly’s benefit. “This could have been much worse. You are lucky that you are resistant to this form of damage.”

Indeed, Molly’s arm did not bear the same marks as Clarabelle’s throat had after their encounter with the ghost. There was pain, but the blackness faded to a light grey. He grimaced as Sier took the tender limb in hand and began to mumble a prayer in Celestial.

Clarabelle intoned something, and there was an odd wave of pressure through the air. “I think I got it,” she said, eyes still scanning with that arcane light. “Yeah, nothing around the door anymore. But there is a lot of magic in the next room.”

With a bracing wince, she turned the door handle. The door swung open with a quiet pop, as hundreds years old air mixed with their own.

The air in the next room was dry and sharp, in contrast to the must of the previous area. The room was lined with marble bookcases full of tomes and art and artifacts of all kinds. Reani gasped in delight, as this was the first intact room that they’d found so far with anything more than crumbling furniture and dishes.

‘Intact’ was perhaps a strong word, as the bookcases along one wall were tumbled in a pile on the ground. Glass littered the floor around them, and books lay at angles that meant they would be difficult to handle without damaging the ancient pages. A door lay beyond the rubble, and Molly knew they would need to clear the pile to continue through it.

Still, there was enough in this room alone to keep the auditors busy for a good long while. They fanned out, checking the corners of the room for hidden threats. Sier took the desk, as that was the likeliest place to find traps and they had the best eye for such things.

Molly started taking in the contents of one shelf, feet padding against the plush carpet. Several of the trinkets at eye level were composed of glass spheres and silver wire, depicting models of things that Molly only vaguely recognized. One may have been a map of the planes, though Molly didn’t know much about such things, and another was a beautifully rendered model of Exandria. The continents and seas were depicted in swirling glass, which must have been a truly difficult thing to create. A piece of silver wire held another sphere aloft at its side: a translucent representation of Catha. Molly cocked his head at the lack of second moon, trying to see if it was hidden behind the larger globe.

“Mollymauk, if you please.” Sier waved him over to the desk. Another lock to pick. He paced over, but sighed. He was going to have to get some kind of mat to kneel on if this kept up. “There was a trap, but I have dispelled it. The owner of this study may have been a spellcaster of some kind.”

The desk drawer locking mechanism was surprisingly tricky, with tumblers that were tiny and delicate. “A Knock spell would be pretty nice right about now,” Molly complained.

“You might be able to convince one of the auditors to come tomorrow. I know Forsun can cast it, and he’s less of a library-dweller than the others,” Reani said, leaning against the desk with her arms folded. “It would really suck to give up any credit for finding what’s in here, though. This room is freakin’ awesome compared to everything else we’ve found.”

“What time is it, anyway? It feels like we’ve been in here for hours.” Molly switched tools, trying something with a less forceful curve to it.

Sier spoke up. “We should return once we are satisfied with this room. We will not be able to clear another before sundown, and as the only exit is secure it is a logical stopping point.”

“Just let me finish with this desk, I guess.” Molly prodded with the new pick, and it stuck. “Bloody hell,” he cursed, pulling on the tool.

“Allow me,” said Sier, casting a spell. Molly felt a familiar sensation wash over him, steadying his hands and quickening his muscles.

“Thank you kindly!” The pick popped free of the lock’s teeth, and he set it aside with a shake of the head after a quick inspection. It was another casualty to his amateurish lockpicking skills. Many a pick had gotten mangled since the start of his short career as the dedicated door opener, but it was an expected thing. The Woodset Auditors provided the equipment and acquired replacements, so he wasn’t bothered. Besides, he was already much better at it than Reani, who had been doing the lockpicking before his arrival. She had tried one of the first locks in this section and he had only been able to watch her clumsy movements for a minute before making a quip. She had challenged him with an ‘oh yeah, then why don’t you take over?’ He had, and with that had doomed himself to kneel on cold stone floors for the foreseeable future.

The second attempt went much easier, now that he was aided by magic and knew what kinds of picks to use. The lock core finally turned in its channel and he sighed with relief, getting to his feet and rubbing at his aching legs. “Let’s see what goodies the owner left behind, eh?”

The drawers opened with a grinding sound that made everyone flinch. Hundreds of years of disuse would do that. It was a miracle some of the mechanisms in the building still functioned at all.

Each drawer was lined with soft blue cloth. Papers in messy script were haphazardly stacked in one, writing instruments in another. Molly also found a mirror that he almost took for himself, but Clarabelle stopped him short of his pocket.

“That’s magical,” she warned. “I don’t know what it does, though. Be careful.”

Better safe than sorry, he supposed. He could always buy a mirror in town. He placed it back where he’d found it and closed the drawer, opening the final one below it. It contained a single polished box, bleached a silver-white colour. Molly lifted it to the surface of the desk, inspecting the outside. The material felt like wood when he tapped it with his long nails, but it looked more like ivory. Definitely an interesting material.

“Anything nefarious?” he asked, looking towards Clarabelle. She shook her head.

There was no lock, just a simple clasp to keep the lid closed. He flipped it open, and lifted the lid.

The box contained two rows of thin slices of crystal, uniform in size. They were held in place by slits in the wood that prevented them from bumping against one another, and every single piece was intact.

“Oh, wow…” Reani gasped. “Those are like the broken pieces we found in the other section. The nerds were really eager to find more.”

“I wonder what they are,” wondered Molly, raising one to eye level. The piece was a perfect square, with smooth edges. At first it appeared cloudy, but he noticed that the edges were perfectly clear, like the finest glass. The cloudy section was in the middle only, with a uniformly clear border. He replaced the slice and drew another. It was the same, but the cloudiness didn’t have the same pattern. The third as well. He raised it close to his eye, trying to see the details in the tiny piece. It was hard to focus on, the detail blurring before he could pick it out.

“Take a look at this with those excellent eyes of yours?” he asked, holding out the crystal to Clarabelle. She laid her staff down on the desk. The illuminated crystal cast long shadows from the tiny bits of dirt on its surface. She held the piece up to her eye, then moved to inspect it closer to the light, twisting it to different angles.

“I think it’s etched,” she breathed. “But the etchings are smaller than anyone could ever make. It’s really hard to see.”

Molly took the crystal back from her and returned it to its spot in the wooden box. “We should take this back with us, let the arcanists get a head start on it. Plus bask in their praise at finding something so interesting. Maybe they’ll even break out more than one ration of wine tonight.” His tail lashed with anticipation.

“But Molly, you always get my share anyway!”

“You know what I mean, dear.”

Reani cradled the box in her arms. “Well, I’m beat. Let’s head back before those freaky corrupted cougars come out to hunt for the night.” They all followed her toward the exit.

“You’re beat?” Molly asked, his voice teasing. “I’m the one who spent half the day on his knees. You didn’t even have to wildshape.”

Reani tossed her hair back and spoke over her shoulder with a smirk. “And here I thought you liked being on your knees.”

“Only when I get something out of it too, dear.”

Sier sighed and pushed toward the front of the line in an attempt to get away from their banter. Molly didn’t blame them; sometimes he and Reani could be downright shameless together. Clarabelle didn’t seem to mind, but Molly suspected that she also had no idea what was going on when they started trading double entendres. She was decidedly sheltered.

They followed the trail of the druids’ chalked symbols back to the exit and returned to base camp. As expected, the auditors crowded around to see their find, and had started arguing about who would be allowed to accompany them the next day to begin retrieving and inspecting all the books and artifacts in the pristine office. Eventually a bit of a bidding war broke out, with people trading alcohol rations and stashed luxury items for a chance to be one of the first in the room.

Laughing at the antics, Molly served himself dinner from the huge pot of soup simmering in the canteen. The Clays had come to visit the day before while they were working with a basket full of homemade dumplings, so for once Clarabelle didn’t have to cook her own dinner. She slid a cup of wine over to him as he sat down at her table.

“So, what kind of weird bean thing is in these?”

Her face lit up as she started explaining the process. Molly listened as he watched the workers in green and blue robes start inspecting the crystals, pulling out lenses and other instruments. As Molly lowered his bowl from drinking the last of the broth, he saw that they had found something. One auditor had cast Light on a mug and was holding both a crystal sliver and a glass lens up to it, varying the distance.

It must have been doing something, because the mix of Elven and Dwarven the group was chattering was building in excitement. One of the dwarves — a dabbling bard, Molly thought — took out a bit of string and wrapped it around a pencil, then pointed at an empty table. The tablecloth rose from an unseen force and approached the group. The dwarf barked another command and the cloth rose in the air to hang vertically.

The auditor holding the lens lifted her head to look at the cloth. Biting her lip in focus, she began to move the items again, very slowly and with steady hands. A blurry shape appeared on the cloth, slowly changing size as they moved. Then, suddenly, the blur resolved into something with shape: dozens of lines of tiny symbols.

The room erupted into cheers and people dove for paper and writing instruments. One took out a string and marked the distance of the crystal and the lens from the light source.

“Gods, they get excited over the most boring things. I’d love to take them to Hupperdook. Bet some of them would die of fun.” Molly sipped his wine as he watched the hubbub.

Clarabelle giggled. “Just wait until tomorrow when they see the books.”

The books turned out to not be as exciting as they had thought. As it turns out, 250 years of neglect does things to paper, even in a room that was decently well-sealed.

The auditors who won out and were allowed to come along collected them delicately with hands both arcane and mundane, packing them off to a secure room near the exit. Some of the tomes from the floor disintegrated instantly when lifted, but others from the shelves were intact enough to perhaps be readable with the correct handling.

There was also particular interest in some of the art pieces. Molly definitely heard an auditor mumbling something about Ruidus as the model of Exandria was packed up, and he asked someone about the more elaborate model as they approached it with a crate.

“Is this supposed to be the planes?”

The elf with the thin moustache nodded. “Indeed it is, though it is a little different than modern renditions. We can learn much from this.”

The room cleared fairly quickly. Many hands had come to help, and there was a spring in everyone’s step at the prospect of so many intact artifacts. Once they were left with a near-barren room, Reani ushered the last of the prying eyes out of the office, shooing them down the hallway.

“Stay at least 60 feet back, you squishy dweebs! Sometimes the traps in here have a big area of effect. I don’t want any of you dying so close to the end of this contract.” The stragglers reluctantly slunk back to join their peers.

“Alright, how are we going to move those?” asked Molly, indicating to the toppled stone bookcases. Each one was eight feet tall by three feet wide, and made of solid marble. Molly knew he would be no help lifting anything, and Clarabelle’s lanky shape implied that she was the same. Reani had thick arms but they didn’t even compare to Yasha’s, whom Molly thought would also struggle with such a large object.

“Easy!” said Reani, eyeing up the space, including the ceiling height. “Uhh, you might want to stand way back for this.”

They did, and Reani took a spot in the middle of the room before transforming into an elephant. The form took up nearly the entire room, but Molly knew it was incredibly strong. He laughed and tried to dodge as she mussed up his hair with her trunk, but wasn’t fast enough. The hot breath tickled his scalp and left his hair sticking up after her trunk had withdrawn. She turned and moved the stone fixtures with ease, then shrank back down to her normal form.

In her humanoid form, Reani began kicking rubble out of the way of the door. Sier stepped up to inspect it for hidden mechanisms, as usual. They shook their head, indicating it was clear, and indicated towards Molly as if to say ‘it’s all yours.’ He eyed the space warily.

“Belle? Is it clear? I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

She focused, and her eyes lit with that odd reflectiveness that always accompanied the detection spell.

“The door is fine, but…” She trailed off, colour draining from her cheeks. The next phrase was a quiet whisper, and she clutched her staff tightly. “There’s some really strong necromancy in that next room. Stronger than I’ve ever seen before.”

Molly nodded, and activated one scimitar with radiant moonlight. With his non-dominant hand, he tried the doorknob. It swung freely.

The door opened silently, revealing a pitch dark bedroom. It was furnished with chests of drawers that matched the desk in the previous room, in marble and gold that suggested extreme wealth. In one corner, a stand held a shirt of fine chain links that scattered the light into patterns on the walls behind it. An enormous mural overlooked the room from the ceiling, depicting dozens of beautiful elves in revealing silks. And in the center of the room, a grand canopy bed with velvet drapes. A figure lay upon it, unmoving, but very alive-looking. Behind Molly, Clarabelle drew in a sharp breath.

“That person is the source of the necromancy,” she whispered.

“Can anyone identify it?”

“No, that’s an arcane magic. We could ask an auditor—”

“Way too dangerous.” He took the silence as agreement.

Feeling brave, Molly approached the bed. His footsteps made no sound against the plush carpet, and the body below him did not react in any way.

The sleeping figure was an elf. Their long blond hair splayed over the pillow in a fan, contrasting the royal blue silk. Their skin was deathly pale and their chest did not rise or fall to indicate that they were alive, but they didn’t look dead, either. Molly hovered a hand over their nose. No breath. Then something caught his eye. There was a tiny thread, thin as spider silk, connected to their chest. It was almost imperceptible, barely catching the light. He tried to follow its path to see what it attached to, but it disappeared after a few inches.

He retreated back to the others.

“They look normal, but they’re not breathing. Maybe the spell was to keep them from suffocating in here? We could dispel it.”

They all exchanged glances. Reani shrugged, but Clarabelle maintained a white-knuckled grip on her staff.

“If you think it’s safe,” she whispered.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Sier nodded and began the motions of a spell. At first it looked like nothing that happened, but then the thread that Molly had seen flared with silver light. The figure twitched, and then the thread snuffed out. Molly held his breath.

A few moments passed in silent apprehension. Then the elf stirred. They sat up on the sheets, rubbing their eyes. They scanned the room, turning immediately to the light source on their threshold.

“Ah, visitors,” they said, voice dripping with delight.

They locked eyes with Molly, and the irises reflected a deep red in the light.

Chapter Text

They locked eyes with Molly, and the irises reflected a deep red in the light.

A vampire. The thought popped into Molly’s head immediately upon seeing the eyes, the origin of the knowledge as unfamiliar to him as that of the eyes tattooed on his body. They were wickedly fast, and strong, could change form, and had strong charm effects that didn’t require concentration. This was bad. Molly felt the blood drain from his face as his body itched to fight or flee.

The vampire swung their legs off the bed and stood, taking a casual pose that belied the taught muscles that Molly knew were ready to strike. It was the sort of pose he had practiced himself. Their silk shirt hung open at the chest, revealing delicate golden chains and an onyx pendant over an expanse of unblemished pale skin.

“Normally I would be angry to be interrupted in my exploration, but given that I have been trapped down here for so long, perhaps I ought to be thanking you.” They smiled, careful to show a minimum of teeth. “I am Maeral Lorasys, highest keeper of the Queen’s law. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Molly glanced sideways at his companions, praying that they sensed the danger. Clarabelle was still strung taught as a bowstring, and Sier eyed Maeral with distrust. Reani was standing in a subtle defensive stance, her eyes hard, but then they glazed over and she relaxed. Molly looked forward, and saw the vampire staring right at her.

Fuck.

“I’m Reani,” she said, stepping forward and placing a hand on her chest. “And these are my friends, Sier, Molly, and Belle.” She indicated to each of them in turn.

“Well, Reani, thank you for liberating me. I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?” The hand on their hip shifted, raised in invitation. “It’s been so long since I had a beauty like you at my table. Would you join me for dinner?”

Reani dissolved into nervous giggles. “Wow, that… I… I’m really bad at this.” she began to step forward, hand outstretched.

“Reani, no!” Clarabelle called, but it was too late. Reani’s fingertips met Maeral’s and they pulled gently. As if they were dancing, Reani spun toward them, coming to rest with her back against their chest and an arm slunk around her waist. She giggled again.

“You’re really pretty,” she whispered, gazing into their eyes with wonder. They smiled again, fully this time, revealing pointed fangs much longer than Molly’s.

“And very hungry,” they added, then leaned in.

Molly’s vision tunneled, and he heard Belle’s shout only distantly as his taught legs sprang into action. He closed the distance in a few long strides and grabbed Reani, clutching his sword and praying that he had the right one.

They reappeared in a cloud of mist next to Sier, who presented a holy symbol. An aura of light emanated from them, washing them all in cool light. Molly felt a little bit of vitality seep into his bones.

“Hey! They were totally into me, what are you—” The aura took effect, and the fog lifted from Reani’s eyes. She touched her neck briefly, hand coming away bloody. “Oh.” She blinked at the crimson stain a few times before snapping up to look at the vampire, face coalescing into rage.

“You rapey fucker, you’ll pay for that!”

Her body morphed, becoming covered in hard armor. Molly was pushed to one side as the giant scorpion took shape, and he moved to stay out of its way. He was reaching for his other sword when Maeral smiled, their teeth still painted with Reani’s blood.

“If you wish to stand between me and my freedom, so be it. I will cut you down where you stand, then feast to my triumph.” They took a defensive stance, teeth bared and sharp fingernails poised for attack. The casual air of superiority was replaced with something animalistic, and it made Molly shudder. Behind him, Clarabelle spoke, her voice choked with fear. “Väki, protect us. Strike down this affront to nature!”

Ethereal autumn leaves spiraled in the middle of the room, seeming to glow with energy. They swirled into a shape and the shape set ablaze, forming a small, fiery, fox-like creature. It flicked its tail toward the vampire, dislodging an ember that flared as it sailed across the room.

Maeral raised an arm and ducked the ember, which impacted harmlessly on the wall behind them. Molly took the opportunity to close the distance while their attention was diverted, drawing his second blade across his skin. He focused hard, praying that he could enhance it with light as well as the first blade. He knew he would need all the radiant damage he could get, but had never activated the same rite on both blades before.

To his relief, the cool light came as easily as always. He slashed twice at the vampire as he danced around behind them, but was barely able to impact them. They twisted with unnatural grace, and his attacks were only able to graze. Still, it was satisfying to see them bleed. He focused on that, feeling some dark magic flow from his own blood into theirs.

They hissed at the impact and whirled to face him, baring their back toward Reani’s scorpion form. Clawed fingers darted out to grab his shoulders, pulling him in for a bite. He struggled, jabbing a horn into their cheek and wriggling free. For once he regretted keeping his horns capped; the blunted metal adornments left the horns useless as weapons.

Reani approached and grabbed Maeral with her claws. They wriggled in her grip, and barely managed to avoid being impaled by the scorpion’s stinger. Another ember sailed across the room, this time reaching its mark and burning exposed skin. Maeral hissed in pain and escaped Reani’s grasp, wrapping their arms around Molly once again and using his body like a shield. Reani lashed out with her tail as they moved and struck true, filling their bloodstream with poison.

This time Molly couldn’t escape the hold. He was held fast around the waist and shoulder by a grip so tight it bruised. He slashed behind his body blindly, but his blades met only air.

“Don’t struggle, pretty. This doesn’t have to hurt a bit.” The voice whispered in his ear was perversely sensual, and for a moment he forgot exactly why he had been struggling in the first place. Soft lips met his neck just under his ear, in a spot that he knew people liked to be kissed. The embrace suddenly felt so safe and comforting, and he relaxed into it.

He barely even felt it when the teeth pierced his skin. His hazy mind’s focus drifted and he sighed as his legs weakened, the dreamy state making it feel like the afterglow of sex. Then he crashed, Sier’s magic counteracting the charm, and all at once his muscles locked tight as the pain ripped through him. On instinct, he stomped at the feet behind him and pulled away, slashing at the space he had once occupied. This time his steel found flesh, and dark blood began to spill from Maeral’s thigh.

Molly breathed hard as he took up a defensive stance, looking around for Clarabelle. She still stood behind her fire spirit, shaken but seemingly unharmed. With a quavering voice she called to Molly, and he felt a wave of healing energy pour over him.

“Thank you, darling,” he called as he dove back in. Reani’s stinger was roughing up the vampire badly, but the wounds also appeared to be healing before Molly’s eyes. Of course, he thought. Without radiant damage to suppress the ability, vampires regenerated in an instant. He redoubled his efforts, knowing that without his hits they would never be able to damage the thing faster than it healed.

Maeral moved with an unnatural speed and grace that made them very hard to hit. Reani missed more often than she hit, and she couldn’t keep the bastard grappled for more than an instant. They all danced around the room, following Maeral as they deftly dodged and wove around their attackers.

A beam of guiding light struck from the doorway, illuminating the vampire’s form just long enough for Reani to strike with her tail once more. A feral growl tore from Maeral’s throat, and the shadows in the room deepened and the light sources dimmed. The shadows grew and twisted, forming swarms of bats that surrounded Clarabelle entirely and moved towards Sier as well. Clarabelle yelped and put out her hands defensively, summoning the same cone of flame that Molly had seen in the kitchen weeks before. Half of the bats fell to the floor, smoking. The rest continued to pummel her and Sier, who attempted to fight them off with a sacred flame. It didn’t kill nearly as many bats, but between the two casters Molly knew they would soon all be dead.

Molly returned his attention to his quarry, only to see them roll over the bed. He slashed and caught them in the leg, which they clutched as they rose on the far side of the room. Any living thing would have been heaving for breath, but the vampire stood with an unnatural stillness. Their eyes met, and they smiled. Molly felt his vision tunnel, and all he could focus on was that gaze. The eyes softened, and a voice carried through the chaos to caress Molly’s ear.

“Come back, little one. I know how much you liked my last kiss. Wouldn’t you like another?”

Molly did like kisses. He padded around the bed and dropped a sword, wrapping the now-empty hand around the elf’s waist and looking up expectantly. They leaned in and he closed his eyes, dreamily waiting for the proffered kiss. Absently, he felt a wave of magic over his body, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of the lips on him.

When he regained awareness, the body supporting him was gone. His head swam and his knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. Where was he? It took a moment to come back to him, his heart beating sluggishly to try to get oxygen to his brain. He spotted a scimitar next to him and he picked it up, recognizing it as his own. How did it get there?

Using the bedpost as a support, he stood on shaky legs, scanning the room. Reani was engaged with a pale elf, fighting with a flaming scimitar in one hand and a wand in the other. They were slowly moving towards Sier, who was framed in the room’s doorway. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he could barely stand up, let alone fight. He gripped the bedpost and tried to illuminate the elf with faerie fire, but the light flowed off their form like water off plummage.

He felt hands on his shoulders, and he turned to see Clarabelle’s face at his level. He hadn’t noticed her before, but smiled giddily at her. Her presence calmed his fear and confusion. She was speaking, though he didn’t understand. The sound of his heartbeat and breathing overtook all other sound in his ears, so her words were lost to him. Her brow creased in worry, then she cast a spell and put a hand on his head. As the healing magic rushed through him, the sounds of the room returned and he remembered his situation.

“Insolent halfbreed! Drop your pathetic magicks and submit to me!” Maeral was closing on Sier, having managed to sidestep Reani. She rushed them valiantly, but her blade found open air more often than not. Sier raised their hands defensively, beginning to cast a spell, but they fell mid-casting as their eyes glazed over. The aura around them faded, leaving the room darkened and draining the tingle of protective magic from Molly’s skin. This was bad. Sier had been the one person able to counteract the vampire’s charm ability.

Molly jumped back into action, staggering around the huge bed and standing at Reani’s shoulder. He only had one sword empowered now, and he didn’t think he had the energy to invoke another rite. The blood loss still made itself known, making the world spin and his vision spot with each step he took.

Already, the vampire was healing. There was no time to lose, and Molly dove in with his radiant scimitar, striking true as Maeral’s hands closed around a kneeling Sier’s head. Their skin looked unnaturally pale next to that silver-white hair, and instinct took over. Molly seized the psychic tether he had felt lock into their blood earlier, twisting it hard. The vampire seized in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop them from going for Sier’s neck. They bit and drank deeply, and the colour drained from Sier’s face as their essence was drained. Molly knew he had been resistant to this kind of attack, but his companions were not. Alarmingly, Sier’s charm did not break from the attack either. They continued to kneel at Maeral’s feet, hands on their knees as blood dripped down their neck.

The vampire stood behind Sier, protected from Reani and Molly’s melee attacks by the door frame and Sier’s body. They ducked an ember from the far side of the room, and stoked the silver hair in front of them.

“As much as I’d love to continue to play, I’ve drunk my fill and grow bored with your weak attempts at my life. Thank you again for freeing me. I don’t expect we’ll see each other again.” Their smirking lips were red with blood, highlighting the red of their eyes. With a spin, they dissolved into a cloud of silvery mist which began to drift toward the exit.

“Fuck!” Molly spat, grasping at Sier’s robes. “We need a moonbeam right now; it’s getting away!” He shook the elf, but they only flopped in his hands, continuing to kneel submissively. Molly turned in desperation to Reani and Clarabelle. “Please tell me one of you has a moonbeam spell prepared.” They both shook their heads.

Cursing, Molly leapt over Sier and into the study. The mist was slow-moving compared to the vampire’s physical form, but had already made it to the hallway and was fast escaping. He knew there was no way for him to attack it in this form, and they couldn’t defeat it without Sier. “Dispell that!” he barked over his shoulder, following the cloud. Reani followed him, but Clarabelle knelt with a small velvet bag and started casting over the kneeling form of their friend.

In the hallway, Molly caught up with Maeral’s gaseous form. He knew what would happen if they reached the ruin’s first chamber, where several auditors worked unaware of what was transpiring this far in. While it had taken them several days to get this deep into this complex, the physical distance between the vampire and the auditors would take mere minutes to traverse even at the cloud’s slow speed. He needed to act.

Running through the cloud, he slashed with his scimitar. There was nothing physical to impact, and the blade sliced through the air in an arc. Molly had to pull back to avoid slashing his own shin. Cursing, he ran through his list of spells. He’d already wasted a faerie fire, and none of his other spells seemed helpful in this situation. What he really needed was a moonbeam, one of the spells Sier had told him was a specialty of clerics of their particular tradition. It did radiant damage and had extra effect on shapechangers, forcing them back to their true form.

The cloud passed around him in his indecision, getting closer to the exit and the heedless workers both. Molly grabbed the holy symbol at his breast and prayed. Please, gods, give me the power to take this bastard down. I can’t do it alone. In desperation, he called out to the moon, begging it to strike down the vampire with its divine light.

Reani gasped behind him as a pale column of light appeared in the same space as the mist. The mist coiled and twisted, then coalesced into a familiar humanoid shape that jumped backward out of it, burning faintly. Smoke rose from the vampire’s skin as it turned to face them. It looked haggard, blond hair matted with sweat and blood and clothing hanging in tatters. It lunged forward but Molly urged the light forward and caught it again in the searing beam.

Another radiant bolt shot from Reani’s hand and caught Maeral in the chest. Eyes wild, they rolled again from the beam and began to run at full speed down the hallway. Their heavy footfalls echoed loudly against the stone. They were fast, but Molly’s moonbeam was faster. The light dazzled them again and their form fuzzed as they froze mid-step, trying to shapechange again. Sehanine’s revealing light held them fast, however, and they remained in humanoid form as they fell to their hip.

Molly kept the column of light focused on them as the last of their spirit burned away, only releasing his grip on the spell when he felt the psychic tether between them fade. As the magic slipped away and the adrenaline faded, he slumped against the wall. Reani rushed to his side and healed him.

“Holy shit, Molly, that was amazing,” she breathed. “I thought you were a magic newbie? That was one hell of a spell.”

Molly shrugged as he pushed himself upright. The lightheadedness of the blood loss persisted, but he no longer threatened to tip over in a stiff breeze. He approached the twisted corpse on the ground. It had landed on its side, one arm thrown out under it. He kicked it onto its back, revealing the dead red eyes and pointed fangs. Those same features were part of what scared so many people away from him. Between that and the fact that both he and the vampire had gained power through blood, the resemblance was too much for his current emotional state.

That’s right, you shifty arsehole, Molly thought as he kicked the diminished body in front of him. We’re nothing alike. I don’t need blood to kill freaks like you. I can channel fucking divine magic now and blast your kind from the face of Exandria. He started looting the body, rough and angrily. The chain of Maeral’s amulet got tangled in their hair as he removed it, and he cursed in Infernal, the rough consonants feeling right for his current mood.

Reani tugged Molly back to the bedroom, where they had left Clarabelle and Sier. Belle was comforting Sier, who was still shaken from having been controlled.

The two of them searched the room, revealing an expansive wardrobe of fine silks, jewelry of precious stones and platinum and gold, a chainshirt with links so fine that even a knitting needle wouldn’t penetrate, and a cloak that seemed to absorb the light. They laid out all the valuables on the bed, but left the silks where they were. Normally Molly would have relished in the opportunity to acquire so many beautiful garments, but knowing who had worn them before made them feel tainted.

Reani stepped out of the ensuite washroom. “There’s running water in here, heated even. Amazing magic. Anyone want to wash up?”

They all nodded, for none had escaped being covered in sweat and blood. The washroom itself was large, with a tub big enough for at least two set into the floor, as well as a washbasin. Reani touched a crystal set into the rim of the basin, and it immediately filled with steaming water.

“The ruby for hot, the sapphire for cold, and the diamond to empty it,” she explained. Molly nodded gratefully and took a washcloth.

Once they had all wiped the blood from their faces and necks, they moved to the hall and stared at the corpse of the vampire they had just defeated against all odds. It was rapidly degrading, the skin curling like the wax at the rim of a candle. Molly wondered how old they had been.

“So… what should we do with them?” asked Clarabelle.

“Burn the bastard.” Molly didn’t question it, he just knew what should be done. “Drag it out to the sunlight, and burn the thing like the affliction it is.”

The others only nodded, so Molly went to the wardrobe to find something that could be used to wrap and carry the body. He found a long plush robe and withdrew it, closing the wardrobe door. As he turned to pass it off, he caught his own reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner.

He was relieved that he recognized his own appearance, changed though his wardrobe may be. The red eyes that looked back at him were distinctively his own, and surrounded by a face mostly unchanged since the last time he had seen it. Something felt unearthly about the image, however, and his stomach roiled as he stepped closer, waving a tentative hand to compare the movement of the image. It moved as a reflection should.

There had been times in the past where Molly had avoided mirrors. Sometimes when he was feeling particularly disconnected from reality, looking at himself in the glass left him feeling like he was the image, and the tiefling on the other side the real person. The feeling was so strong at times that he had avoided anything that gave a sharp reflection, lest the image trigger a spiral.

The image in this mirror was too realistic. It made his skin crawl. Mirrors he’d had access to in the past had typically been made of polished metal, with imperfect images obscured by tarnish spots and scratches. This one was a true looking glass, with no discernible surface. It felt like he was truly looking into another world, at a perfect copy of himself.

“Molly?” came Clarabelle’s voice from the door, ripping him from his fixation. “Are you alright?” He shook his head. “What is it? Is something wrong with the mirror?”

He shook his head again, trying to find the words to explain how he felt. “It just looks so real,” he started, struggling to articulate his feelings.

Clarabelle stepped beside him and looked into the glass. “It is a very fancy mirror,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself so clearly.” She leaned towards the glass and inspected her face closely, wiggling her ears. Her breath made a small cloud in front of her face in the cold room, but it did not fog the mirror. In shock, Molly pulled her back.

“That’s not natural. There’s something wrong with that thing. Don’t touch it.”

“What do you mean?” She looked genuinely confused.

“When you were up close, it didn’t fog up. It should have fogged up. I don’t think it’s a mirror at all, it looks like another world or something.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She leaned down to look him in the eye. “It did fog up; I couldn’t see my chin at all. It’s fine, watch—”

Before he could stop her, she returned to the mirror and put a hand on its surface. Her reflection did the same, and the two stood palm-to-palm, watching him.

“Come on, put your hand on it. There’s no sense being afraid of something for no reason.” She took his hand gently and raised it, but did not force him.

Molly realized that he was almost hyperventilating, and tried to slow his breathing. It’s irrational, he told himself. There’s no way that I can be the reflection. I can hear, feel, smell, taste. He focused on Belle’s grip on his wrist: solid and grounding.

Under his own power, he lifted a hand to hover just inches from the glass. He couldn’t actually tell where the glass was, he realized. The mirror was so clean and unblemished that he couldn’t even see its surface. He pushed the hand forward.

He did feel the surface, for but a moment. It was like pushing past a curtain, and as his hand passed through, it disappeared. He froze, hand gone, wrist meeting with the wrist of his image on the other side. The other Molly’s eyes were just as wide as his own.

Clarabelle gasped, and pushed at the mirror again. Her hand met the glass with a dull thud. Eyes wide with fear, she grabbed Molly and pulled him away.

“Okay, okay. That’s not normal. We should… we should not touch it. Get the others. Rest. Something. I don’t know; I’m exhausted.” She began to shake a little, and Molly grabbed her round the middle for a tight hug. Both of them needed it direly, and they clutched each other for a full minute before breaking apart.

“Okay, let’s get out of here. I don’t want to spend another minute here without backup.” He took her hand and they left the quarters, following the hall back to the exit.

As they passed through the room where a few auditors were working, Clarabelle stopped and put on an air of authority. Anyone who knew her well could still see the traces of fear and tiredness in her, but she put on a good mask.

“Through the office we cleared before, there’s a bedroom. We need the mirror identified, now. Don’t touch anything else.” The auditors looked fearful and rushed to stand, bowing curtly at her before fleeing the room. When they had gone, her shoulders slumped again. The two of them exited the ruins.

Molly never thought he’d feel so grateful to feel the sun again. Though it was low in the winter sky, its beams seemed to purify his soul. He immediately felt better, even more so when he spotted the beginning of a pyre that Reani and Sier had built. He began helping to bring wood.

Once the pile was big enough, Belle summoned her wildfire spirit again and allowed it to set the pyre ablaze. The waxy skin of the slain elf lit at once and burned easily. They all stood in cathartic silence as they watched the fire cleanse everything to ash. Eventually, they were interrupted by a sheepish auditor.

“Excuse me, miss Clay? You wanted to know about the mirror?”

Sier and Reani turned, confusion evident in their eyes. Clarabelle nodded.

“We took the time to identify it. It has a strong Conjuration aura and seems to be some kind of gateway, though we couldn’t find the method of activation. Normally if there were a command word we would be able to discover it with the aid of an Identify spell, so there must be some other missing component. It may be enchanted to only let through one person, though that would be something unheard of since the age of Arcanum. More likely, there is an item that activates it.”

Molly looked down at the pendant in his hand: a simple onyx stone in the shape of a faceted teardrop, hanging on a gold chain. That would be it, he thought flatly.

Clarabelle thanked them and they hurried back to their work. The four adventurers turned to each other, basking in the light of the fading pyre.

“So, I take it you found something else in the room?”

Clarabelle nodded. “Molly noticed something about the mirror. His hand was able to pass right through.”

More sourceless knowledge trickled into Molly’s consciousness. “Vampires are supposed to have some sort of place to rest, like a grave or casket. We haven’t found one yet, but I bet it’s through there. They would want it to be well-hidden.”

“Let’s rest for a bit longer before we do that,” suggested Reani. “I don’t want to leave it til tomorrow, but I’m not quite ready to go just yet.” Everyone agreed readily, and they sat down on fallen stones to eat. Clarabelle handed out bundles of fruit and nuts as always, and Reani offered whiskey to everyone.

Partially rested, they all stood looking at the mirror. Molly held up the black stone pendant that he’d pulled from around Maeral’s neck, and the others turned to look at him.

“I think this is the key,” he murmured. “I was holding it before when I started to fall through.” Stepping forward, he took a deep breath. The Molly in the mirror looked stone-faced, though he knew that it was just a façade to hide the fear within. “If I never come back, it was nice knowing you all.”

Reani laughed nervously, but Clarabelle shrank. “Don’t joke about that…” she chided.

“Let me come with you,” said Reani. “At least if we get trapped together, I can plane shift us.”

Molly didn’t like the sound of leaving the Material plane, but he also didn’t want to be trapped somewhere alone. He took her hand and they approached the mirror. He stepped through first, as easily as the first time. The arcane curtain parted and his leg disappeared through the glass. The image was very disconcerting.

Reani laughed nervously again as he pulled her along, vocalizing as her hand went through the barrier. The last thing through the gateway was the tip of Molly’s tail, which he curled defensively around his own leg once they were through. Reani shuddered, shaking her head like she was trying to get something off of it.

“That felt so gross,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

Molly turned to look at where they’d come from. The doorway he faced looked like the mirror from the bedroom, but this time it was not showing a reflection. Clarabelle and Sier looked back at him from the other side, eyes searching. He waved, but they did not react.

Tentatively, he pushed a hand through once more. Thankfully, it did pass through. Clarabelle jumped as he did so, so he waved and made a ‘come hither’ motion. She took his hand, and he pulled her through. Sier followed not long after.

Once they were all together, they lit the space up. Belle’s crystal illuminated a room larger than the study and the bedroom put together, with an ominous pit in the center. Even with the light spell, it was very dark, the shadows seeming to creep up in the corners of Molly’s vision.

“This is a very bad place,” said Clarabelle, and they all silently agreed. Along the left wall was a coffin, as Molly had guessed. Above it hung tapestries in red and black and gold, with serpentine imagery and text he couldn’t read. The right wall had empty manacles set into it, enough sets for perhaps half a dozen humanoids to be restrained.

Molly approached the pit and looked down. It was deep, but his darkvision had gotten very good since he’d started training with Sier. At the bottom he could see bones: so many that the floor of the pit was completely covered. There was no way to tell how deep they went, but Molly knew that dozens — if not hundreds — of people had died to fill it. He turned away as a wave of nausea hit him.

Clarabelle was at the far end of the room now, her eyes sparkling as they did when she detected magic. Her breath caught.

“There is so much bad magic in here,” she said, her voice trembling. She pointed to a golden statue in the form of a spiraling cobra with onyx eyes. “Necromancy.” A chalice upon the altar, “necromancy.” A twisted dagger at its side, “necromancy.” She waved at the whole room. “Evocation.”

“I suspect the area has been desecrated,” said Sier. “It is obviously a sort of temple to Zehir, the Cloaked Serpent.” They waved a hand at the prominent cobra design above the altar. “He is said to work in shadow, cunning and subtle. He favours poisons and despises nature and civilization.”

Clarabelle seemed to blanch. “Could this be what’s causing the corruption in the Savalirwood?”

“It is certainly possible. The corruption worked like a slow poison over many hundreds of years, which is very much Zehir’s style.”

“What would it take to deconstruct all this?” Molly asked, looking at the sheer volume of evil-looking implements around the room.

Sier was thoughtful. “There is a ritual,” they said, “but it requires many components, and much time. I do not have everything that would be needed.”

Reani chimed in. “Well, we can at least start by dispelling some of this crap, right? I’ve got a few spells left in me today.”

Sier nodded, and Clarabelle started pointing out which items had their own auras. Reani, and then Sier when Reani’s spells were exhausted, dispelled each in turn. Some took more than one attempt, which Molly knew meant they were powerful. They continued until everyone was out of spells and exhausted, which did not take long.

Chapter Text

Once everyone was out of dispelling magic for the day, they retreated back to base camp. When they entered the common area, the Uthodurnians cast them quick glances and whispered in small groups. Some kind of word of the day’s discoveries had circulated, and the sentiment amongst the workers was one of caution and fear. The fact that Molly looked half dead certainly wasn’t helping.

Molly joined Clarabelle in the kitchen if only to get away from the prying eyes for a moment. She gave him things to chop and he was thankful for the distraction, focusing on mincing the various roots and vegetables evenly. They made enough for four, and Molly went to collect Sier from their chambers. They were hunched over a book, studying a diagram that depicted a large circle of lines and runes. Collecting the book under their arm, they joined him with a nod and returned to the eating area.

The four sat in silence at first. It was an eerie thing, as silence was rare whenever Reani was around. Chasing down a mouthful of roasted root vegetables with a sip of water, Molly cleared his throat. The others looked up from their meals.

“So, what was that place? Can we counter it?” Molly got the feeling that whatever it was, it had been there for a very long time. It felt like a wound that was festering slowly, and he wasn’t certain that they were powerful enough to cure such a blight. He knew of the corruption that plagued the area. It was said to have started in Molaesmyr itself, wiping out the great city in one swift blow. The location of this desecrated site could not be coincidental. He was confident in his friends’ abilities, but it was folly to think that they could undo a power that had nearly wiped out a civilization and laid undiscovered for 250 years.

Reani wrinkled her nose. “It sure looked like that bloodsucker’s place to hold people and dispose of their bodies once they’d finished feeding from them. There were so many bodies down there. How long do you think they’d been doing this?”

Sier’s head tilted to one side in thought. “Elves live a long time. It is possible that they have lived since the Divergence and not even yet begun to arouse suspicion because of their longevity. There is no way to know when they turned, but given their high station in the city and the access to prisoners that station grants, I would assume that they had been undead for some time even before the city’s ruin. Rising to such a position would take time.”

“You think they were taking the convicts as a food source?”

“Likely. Fewer people would inquire about them, and many were likely sentenced to death.”

“I am so glad we killed that fucker. What a piece of shit. Samliel would totally agree with me.” Reani crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, which creaked weakly. Molly couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“As for the lair, I believe it was profaned with a ritual that would leave the area unhallowed. There is a cleansing ritual I know of that we could try, but I do not know if it would work. It requires a large amount of herbs, incense, and anointing oils: one hundred platinum’s worth in total. We would have to seek out these supplies somewhere afar, as Shadycreek Run will not have such a supply.”

Molly tried to imagine just how much that was. Caleb had used herbs and incense for his summoning circle, but only ten gold’s worth. Trying to imagine 100 times that amount made his head spin.

“My family could help with the herbs,” said Clarabelle. “They have a ton stored already since they use them for magic themselves, but they can also grow a lot more. And Reani and I could help them grow faster.”

Reani nodded. “We’ll still need the rest, though. And like Sier says, Shadycreek Run is a tiny town with barely any spellcasters. There’s only going to be a little bit of incense, and I really doubt anyone there is pious enough to stock anointing oil.” She snorted and let her chair fall back to its normal position. “The next closest city’s Nogvurot, and it’s still not very big. So we’d have to go all the way to Rexxentrum and back.”

“And that’s the heart of the Empire. I don’t think they’re going to like a bunch of followers of banned gods walking around and buying a cartload of stuff for divine magic.” Belle’s ears flicked in annoyance. “Walking through the Empire was bad enough the first time. I don’t want to do it again.”

“I think you’re all forgetting about Shadycreek Run’s biggest asset,” Molly said, smirking. The others looked at him in confusion. “It’s a hive of scum and villainy. Half the business there is smuggling. Sure, most of it’s going south, but that just means there’s plenty of empty carts coming back north that are just begging for cargo. I bet we could pay someone to get everything we need and we wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.”

The gears turned in their heads. Sier gave a considering nod, but Reani froze up a bit.

“Giving money to bad people is bad…” she croaked out, face tense. “But if we need to do it to do something good it’s… good?”

“Not everything is good and bad, dear. Just try to think about the outcome. Ridding the world of this corruption is obviously going to make the world better, and how we get there doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.”

She looked up at the ceiling and nodded her head, cheeks puffed outward. Molly laughed internally, thinking about how much she looked like she was constipated. Perhaps ‘moral constipation’ was a thing?

“Okay, okay, okay. I can be cool with that. Yeah. Cool.” Her tone was uncertain, and she took deep breaths in between each stilted sentence. In that moment she reminded him very much of Beau. Actually, Molly thought that the two would probably get along swimmingly. Maybe one day he’d introduce them.

“We should see how much we can get from the Grove first,” said Clarabelle. “Then we’ll know how much we have to buy.”

“Do we have any money?” Molly asked, thinking about his own coinpurse. He had enough change to be able to make it on the road, but couldn’t contribute to such a large purchase. Besides, he still felt he owed a debt to Sier.

Belle surreptitiously looked around and then lifted a gold ring with an enormous ruby out of her pocket. “We could always barter?”

“That’ll do,” Molly said, in awe of the sheer size of the gem and the ego of its former owner. “So, if we’re leaving, what do we tell them?” He jabbed a thumb towards the gossiping workers.

“HEY NERDS,” Reani shouted towards the other tables. “We’re taking tomorrow off. Deal with it.” A dozen sets of eyes froze upon their group, but nobody said anything in response. Then they turned back to their own tables and the whispering redoubled. Reani folded her arms behind her head and leaned back again. “Easy. They’re all afraid of me and nobody’s gonna argue about a day off.”

With the prospect of a day relaxing at the Blooming Grove, everyone relaxed significantly. Molly pulled out some inks and began the process of colouring in the linework on his tarot cards, explaining what they were for when Clarabelle asked. She was still chattering about how much her family would love him when they retired for bed after a quick wash from a basin and a change of clothes.

Molly was dying for a real bath. “What I wouldn’t give to visit the Steam’s Respite right about now,” he said as he toweled cold water from his hair, shivering close to the brazier in their room.

“We have a hot springs at the Grove. It smells kind of weird, but it’s hot and there’s enough room for people who aren’t short to stretch out. We should definitely use it while we’re there. After today, we deserve it.”

Phantom hands grasped at Molly’s waist and he shuddered. Perhaps he did need time to recover from the events of the day after all. Though he always tried to put on a brave face, it was impossible to come out of a situation like that unscathed. The repeated charms from Maeral left him feeling a bit powerless, and he felt guilt at not having fought harder against submitting to their bites.

Clarabelle still looked haggard as well. She had not been charmed or harmed like the others, but Molly knew how deeply she cared for all of them and how much it must have scared her to see them in such danger and be unable to do anything about it. She had healed them and slung fire spells, but the healing did nothing to help the blood loss and the fire was not the most effective against such a quick enemy. Her more powerful spells probably would have put himself and Reani in the line of fire, literally.

“We do deserve it,” Molly affirmed. “You did great today. I would have been out like a light without you.” He pulled her into a hug, forehead knocking against her collarbone. She squeezed back hard, or as hard as someone who had limbs like willow branches could be reasonably expected to. Then he was being lifted, and he yelped and clung on for dear life as he was pulled across the room. His feet met the ground again at the edge of the pallet. When Clarabelle released him he teetered, lightheaded from the blood loss. She steadied him with a hand and sat down on the straw-stuffed mattress, pulling him gently.

Molly never could say no to a cuddle with a friend, especially not after a harrowing day, so he plopped down beside her. They curled up under the blankets and Molly apologized in advance for any transgressions his horns might perpetrate in the night, then swiftly drifted off to sleep.

Molly prepared the next morning for a day of hard travel through the forest, only to find Reani up in relaxed clothing with next to nothing in her bag.

“I didn’t know you were a wizard and could just—” he snapped his fingers, “—poof us from place to place.” He had seen one of the higher-caliber auditors make transportation circles to send artifacts they had recovered and was in awe of the ease with which they wielded the power. All it took was a little chalk on the ground and they could disappear and reappear hundreds of miles away. If only Caleb could have done that back when they needed to get to Shadycreek Run for the Gentleman’s job, it would have saved them all the trouble of the slavers. Molly found himself wondering what that job was even supposed to be. The Gentleman’s description had been detail-light.

He pulled himself back to the present as Reani finished laughing at him. “No, silly, I’m a druid. You know that! We’re going to travel in style though, don’t you worry.” She looked around the common area. “I don’t think the others are ready quite yet, so I’m gonna go lay down the law to the auditors. Meet you back here?”

Molly agreed and Reani swayed off towards a group of robed individuals, speaking very much with her ‘outdoor voice’ about how nobody was to disturb the ruins until the muscle got back. Molly didn’t think they would; the most interesting room had been completely cleared out and they had plenty to study at camp in the meantime. Besides, only a couple of the auditors showed any kind of adventurous spirit whatsoever, and it was the kind that only sparked when they were accompanied by someone who could defend them. The wizards’ spellbooks were focused on things like translation and identification, not defense.

An auditor approached him as he was halfway through his breakfast, her body language betraying her hesitance. She introduced herself Bælyn, and she spoke in a quiet voice as she took a seat on the bench across from him.

“Is it true what the others are saying? Have you finally found the source of the corruption?”

Molly considered his options. As confident as he was that they had found just that, he wasn’t entirely sure and he didn’t want to start a bunch of rumors and instill false hope amongst these people. Sier had told him that the elves of Uthodurn were the descendants of those who fled Molaesmyr over two hundred fifty years prior, and that solving the mystery of their ancestral home’s destruction was of utmost importance to them.

“We’ve… certainly found something that’s got an evil energy. We don’t know exactly what it is yet, but it’s not safe and it’s going to take us a while to be able to dispel it. Hopefully it ends up being what you came here for.”

Bælyn nodded, but he could see the disappointment in her agate eyes. Oh well, better to set expectations low and exceed them, at least in his opinion. The auditor fled as Clarabelle approached, though it seemed more out of respect for their space than out of fear. Clarabelle took the same spot that Bælyn had just vacated and began to nervously druidcraft.

“I hope you didn’t eat too much, my mom’s gonna try to feed you till you burst.” She conjured a sprig of yarrow and began to twist the stem into a ring.

“There’s always room for more beans,” he teased. Her eyes didn’t leave her fidgeting hands, but Clarabelle did smile genuinely. “I can’t wait to meet them all.” About that, he was perhaps understating the truth. The Clay family sounded extremely interesting: odd, but fun. He yearned to put faces to names.

Clarabelle chuckled. “Well, first you’re going to have to put up with Reani. She gets really weird around my sister.” Her brow furrowed and she stuck out her tongue a little, then raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “Remember how she was with you for the first little bit? It’s like that, but a hundred times worse.”

Molly remembered. Reani had definitely thought him pretty when they met, and had some sort of mild but short-lived crush that manifested in her being incredibly awkward whenever they were alone together. They had easily moved past it, slipping into more of a coworker relationship with a bit of added joking sexual banter. He wasn’t sure what that ‘but a hundred times worse’ would look like, but the possibilities his imagination supplied made him grin.

“Put up with? Darling, that sounds delightful.” Clarabelle made a face at him and they both laughed.

‘Traveling in style’ turned out to mean via a doorway opened in the trunk of a huge tree. The bark curled outwards like a scroll, revealing a shimmering gate. On the other side was an idyllic meadow with an iron fence visible in the distance. Reani ushered everyone through, and Molly tried not to think about the resemblance to the mirror portal they’d traversed the day before as he stepped through.

The transition felt different than that of the mirror. Stepping through the shimmering barrier washed his skin in warmth, like taking a shower in a fancy inn, just without the actual wetness. Still, Molly shivered and shook at the sensation reflexively as his boots met the dry grass of the Blooming Grove.

Every bit as lovely as the name suggested, the clearing in the Savalirwood was teeming with life. Vines and flowers covered almost every surface, trimmed back only enough to show the text on the headstones scattered around the land in little clusters. In the distance, Molly could see the pointed roof of a small tower or spire. Clarabelle took up the lead and started walking toward the structure, passing through an open gate in the iron fence and talking to the plants as she went.

Inside the fenced area were more graves, these ones more weathered than the last. Molly squinted at the text but couldn’t make out most of the script, which appeared to be Elvish.

They passed a shrub adorned with tiny red huckleberries and a figure came into view. Clarabelle called to them in a musical language, and they turned and beamed at her. They were kneeling at a cluster of headstones with a pair of shears, seemingly halfway through the act of trimming the encroaching vines. Clarabelle rushed forward to help them stand. They did so with much difficulty, clutching at their lower back and taking a cane in hand before approaching the group.

“Aunt Corrin, meet my friends!” said Clarabelle in Common as the two approached. Molly noted the resemblance between them. The two were of a height and had similar colourings, though Clarabelle of course had hair with many more colours than Corrin. Corrin waved with her cane hand, keeping her weight on Clarabelle’s arm.

“Always nice to meet new friends,” Corrin said with a patient smile. “We don’t get visitors often. Forgive us if we aren’t prepared for hospitality.” Her knees and forehead were streaked with dirt, but Molly couldn’t care less about that sort of thing. After all, they hadn’t warned anyone they were coming. The group insisted it wasn’t a problem.

“BELLE’S HERE,” shouted a voice from the inner ring of fence. A few birds took flight, and Reani froze at the sound, eyes going wide with anticipation. She began to wring her hands. Other voices called back with varying degrees of excitement.

Clarabelle mouthed ‘told you’ at Molly, then turned to help Corrin traverse the uneven ground to the center of the Grove. It wasn’t a far distance, but in that short walk Molly thought he saw more flowers than he’d seen in his entire life. He made a note to bring Yasha here one day. She would need a half dozen more books to press all the unique blooms from this place.

The rest of the Clay family had gathered just inside the gate of the innermost fence to greet them. They were all dressed in light clothing of teal and green and cream, and Molly noticed the heat for the first time. Suddenly feeling very overdressed, he slipped out of his fur-lined coat. The warm air felt refreshing against his skin, and he rubbed reflexively at the scar over his sternum through the unlaced neckline of his blouse.

Reani rushed forward to stand near one of the taller Clays, gazing up longingly at the pink-haired firbolg.

“H-hi, Calliope. Long time no see, huh?” Calliope rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip, muttering something Molly couldn’t hear. Given Reani’s reaction, he assumed that she was the one who had so loudly announced their arrival.

Clarabelle ran up to hug the shortest of the bunch, a woman with a long Marquesian braid and shaved sides not unlike Beau’s chosen hairstyle. Her hair too was pink, though faded like Corrin’s. The man with thick grey braids beside her did the introductions, and Molly swiftly became acquainted with Cornelius, Constance, and Colton Clay.

“Have you heard from Caduceus?” Clarabelle asked her mother, who shook her head.

“That child truly takes the ‘wild’ in Melora’s name to heart. Could cast Sending any time but I haven’t heard a peep. Calliope did hear from a friend of theirs, though. Didn’t say anything about where they are or what they’re doing, but at the very least we know they’re alive. Oh, but where are my manners? Would anyone like tea?”

They moved inside for tea and catching up, and Molly got to appreciate Clarabelle’s problems with furniture from the other side of the spectrum as he hopped up into a chair tall enough that his legs swung at least a foot off the ground once seated. The Clay family all had very long legs, he noted, especially Calliope and Colton, both of whom must have been eight feet tall.

The family home was large and beautiful, in an eclectic way. Bundles of dried flowers and herbs hung from the high rafters, and in lieu of paintings and the other types of things that most people decorated their homes with, they had a multitude of plants in pots made by people of skill levels ranging from ‘actual toddler’ to ‘trained potter.’ There was also a beautiful tapestry depicting the story of how the family had come to the Grove. Molly didn’t know all the details of the story, but he recognized the figure of the Raven Queen ushering them forward to a green woman who must have been the Wildmother. From there, the thread firbolgs carried something to a forest and buried it, and plant life sprang from the ground. It was a beautiful piece, spanning an entire wall. Molly wondered how many hours had been spent stitching the imagery.

Clarabelle told the story of the vampire they had killed and the lair they had uncovered while the rest of their companions sipped herbal tea from enormous clay mugs. Colton reached over to muss her hair and compliment her skill, and an expression of genuine awe broke through Calliope’s otherwise stoic mask. The whole time Reani sat with her face cradled in her hands, elbows on the table. She kicked her legs and stared dreamily at Calliope, who was pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“So, we need a lot of herbs,” she finished, then bit into one of the fruit tarts that Constance had put out. Sier withdrew a tome from their bag and set it on the table, open to the page outlining the ritual they intended to do.

“These are the herbs required,” they said, pointing to some small sketches with Elvish annotations. Constance and Corrin leaned in to study the list, nodding.

“We’ve got plenty of thyme, rosemary, and lavender,” said Corrin, pointing up to the bundles in the rafters. “Mullein we don’t keep at hand, but it grows here. Same with the juniper and cypress. I don’t know how much you need, but we can certainly work on it.” She nudged Colton, the tallest family member, who stood and began bringing down bundles.

“I’m so proud of you,” said Cornelius, his deep voice a rumble compared to that of the rest of his family. “Calliope and Caduceus may have figured out the crystals, but you found the actual source of the corruption. I knew when you left home that you would do great things.” In the background, Colton grimaced. Molly noted that he was the only one of the younger generation not mentioned. He also wore a breastplate and carried a mace despite the relative safety of the Grove. Perhaps he yearned to prove himself.

“So, will you be staying for dinner?”

They did stay for dinner, as well as the night. Reani could only transport them once per day, and they all agreed that they’d like to take a day to relax before heading to Shadycreek Run. Molly got his promised dip in the hot springs, as well as plenty of entertainment. As Clarabelle had warned, Reani awkwardly tripped around Calliope’s presence the entire day. Calliope reminded him a lot of Beau: strong, unapologetically unfeminine, and quite self-assured. Seeing how much Reani adored her only fueled his desire to introduce the druid to his old friend.

In the morning, after being fed until bursting by a doting Constance, they set out for the sovereign town to the southwest. It took a few hours to get there, though Clarabelle told him that when the forest had been choked with purple shrubs and silver brambles the journey had taken closer to a day. The forest looked mostly normal to Molly’s eyes, though the farther they got from the Grove the more hints of the former corruption appeared.

On the way into the outskirts of the town, voices still muted by the foliage around them, Reani slid back into her authoritative persona and started planning out loud. “Alright, Molly and I will do the talking. Me because I’m the most persuasive, and Molly because he’s the best bullshitter. And Belle, you’re just too innocent to deal with these shady bastards.”

Clarabelle shrugged. “It’s probably true. I’ll just keep an eye out, and poke you if someone seems like they’re trying to pull something.” As they reached the edge of the forest near the start of a street, she put on a glamour and shrunk down before their eyes. The new form was still undeniably Belle, but she looked human-ish, like she could be Reani’s cousin. The amethyst eyes and hair were the same, but she had nut brown skin and human ears.

“That’s a cute look,” praised Molly. The responding ‘thank you’ seemed to come from much higher than the disguise’s face and the dissonance set him chuckling.

“I hate going into town; everyone stares. You’d think they’ve never seen a firbolg before.”

“They’re just jealous of these lovely locks,” Molly said, reaching for the multicoloured waves. His hand was met with the cold surface of her breastplate instead. He shook the fingers, grimacing at the unexpected impact. “Err, so, how does one contact the black market, exactly?” That met him with a series of shrugs and a groan of protest from Reani, who was mildly offended that anyone would think she’d ever know such a thing.

“Nevermind, I’ve got an idea.” Molly broke away from the group with a casual stride, scanning the streets for someone who looked approachable and informative. And most importantly, someone who wouldn’t run away from his wild appearance. It didn’t take long to find the perfect target: a group of three youths trying to hawk some kind of ware from the stoop of a small home tucked between shops. He approached them and looked at their small tarp with feigned interest. They were attempting to sell poorly-made amulets and charms. Molly pretended to ruminate over the options for a moment, aware that his decorated appearance made his presence here look incredibly natural.

After a moment, he looked up from the wares and met the hopeful gaze of one of the teens. There were two half-elves and a red tiefling, who had barely begun to grow horns. The tiefling in particular watched Molly with star-struck eyes. He grinned and pulled a silver from his pocket, watching as three sets of eyes followed his hand.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where to go if someone wanted to import something, would you?” He twirled the silver over his knuckles with practiced ease. The youths exchanged glances.

“Uhh, depends what kind of stuff,” said the blond, his voice cracking slightly. “There’s a couple of big names around here for moving stuff around.”

“It’s boring, really. Nothing illegal, nothing big. An easy job, just something I don’t have time for. And you know how the Empire treats my kind of folk.” The red tiefling nodded at that.

“Well either the Marduns or the Trebains do honest business. I wouldn’t try someone cheaper, they might take your payment and piss off.”

Mardun, now there was a familiar name. Molly never did complete the job he was sent here for in the first place, but a tentative connection was probably better than none at all. At the very least, he could complain to the Gentleman if this Mardun family fucked him over.

Molly flicked the silver coin to the kid and pulled out two more. “And if I were looking to do business with them, where would I go?”

“The Landlocked Lady is where the Marduns do some business, but the Trebains are said to do business in private. You’d have to try their estate, it’s on the east side of town behind the—”

“Nah,” Molly interrupted. “That sounds like too much work. The Marduns’ll do. Thank you kindly for your help.” He flicked a silver coin to each of the remaining youths, then bowed with a flourish and returned to his group.

“Keep an eye out for a place called the Landlocked Lady,” he told them. “Got a tip about a family of repute that does some, er, ‘shipping.’” Reani’s eye twitched a little.

Clarabelle was the one to see it first, unsurprisingly. Molly elbowed Sier as they approached, laughing as he noticed that it was the place they had stayed the first time around. The interior was the same as before: dimly lit, poorly cleaned, and buzzing with business. The barkeeper recognized them immediately. Without much trouble, they were pointed to a particular table to talk specifics.

Despite Reani’s earlier bravado, Molly did almost all of the talking during the transaction. The eye twitching had started up again and showed no sign of stopping, and every time Reani opened her mouth, the syllables came out stuttering. She leaned back and crossed her arms, resigning herself to just looking intimidating. Even without her aid, Molly managed to navigate the conversation with decent skill, negotiating to buy 700 gold pieces worth of incense and oils, no questions asked. It would cost them an extra hundred gold for delivery, but the Marduns’ representative promised for faster delivery than any other courier could claim. Once the goods were exchanged, the broker took out a Sending stone and placed the order immediately.

“Now we just have to wait,” said Molly as they exited the inn. In front of him, Clarabelle ducked to get through the door. Her disguise appeared short enough to not have to, so it was comical to see her duck for seemingly no reason. Molly reached for her arm through the glamour, eventually finding it. It probably ruined the illusion to have his hand disappearing into its shoulder, but he didn’t much care.

Reani transported them back to the encampment once they found a large enough tree, then immediately ran after the head auditor while shouting about a ‘business expense.’

Chapter Text

The delivery came, as promised, a mere 3 days later. In the interim, Molly fought off boredom by making progress on his cards and his coat, sparring with Reani, and gambling with the Uthodurnians. He was in the middle of a melee when the sound of hooves approached. He and Reani sheathed their blades and wiped the sweat from their brows to meet the courier.

A small cart drawn by a single horse approached from the south, piloted by a woman with frizzy hair. The cart was not overflowing with goods, but it did have a few crates of cargo. Another woman sat on top of one of the crates with her arms crossed across her chest, probably some sort of guard. Reani waved the driver over to the storage area.

After the goods were inspected, the second half of the payment was rendered and Molly went to pick up the crate of oils. It was too heavy for one person, and the guard jumped to help him when she saw that he was struggling. Molly thanked her, then returned to collect the incense.

“That was a lot of money for not a lot of product,” he remarked. “Are we sure this is enough?”

“Oh yes,” said Sier, looking over the open crates. “Frankincense and myrrh are extremely expensive. Imported from Tal’Dorei, I believe. We should prepare to do the ritual on the morrow; it will take an entire day to complete.”

Molly agreed and moved to the common area, thirsty from his sparring. To his surprise he found the guard from the shipment there, taking off her heavy coat and digging through a large pack. Under her plain outer layers she wore high-quality traveling clothes of grey and blue wool, decorated with a crest of three eyes arranged in a triangle. A blue silk scarf was tied about her waist, holding an oddly forked dagger at each hip. Something about the ensemble tickled at the back of Molly’s mind. He poured himself a mug of whatever hot beverage was warming over the coals and sauntered over to her table.

“I take it you weren’t hired muscle, then?” he asked, indicating toward her insignia. “Thanks again for the help.”

The woman waved a hand as she dismissed his pleasantries. “It was no bother, don’t worry about it. And no, I was just hitching a ride.” She pulled a leather bound notebook from her bag, which bore the same crest as her shirt, and poised a pen over an open page. “You’re one of the ones who ordered this stuff, right? I was sent from Rexxentrum to check out what’s going on here when we heard that something big had been found.”

Molly felt a bit like a pinned butterfly, so he took a seat on the bench, subtly positioning himself slightly farther away from the woman.

“I feel like we missed a step in this conversation. I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. And yes, I’m with the exploration team. Who are you exactly?”

She lowered her book as she seemed to remember social niceties. “Right, sorry, I’m Archivist Julian with the Cobalt Soul.”

Ah, thought Molly, as it clicked. That’s why her clothing looked familiar; he’d seen something similar all the way back in Trostenwald when someone had helped argue them out of jail. And if he recalled correctly, that person had known Beau.

“I’m here to collect information on behalf of the Cobalt Soul regarding your findings here,” she continued, cutting through Molly’s desperate fumblings through his fragmented memory. “The Cobalt Soul’s purpose is to unearth lost knowledge, and we have an understanding with the Woodset Auditors that the cause of the Molaesmyr corruption is to be shared once found. So, what can you tell me?” She poised her pen again, expectant.

Still thinking about a possible connection between his old friend and the order that this woman worked for, Molly had an idea. “I’ll tell you what. If you help me out, I’ll let you come along tomorrow so you can see for yourself.” He wasn’t sure if that was strictly allowed, but everyone here bent to Reani’s will and he knew he could convince her. The archivist eyed him for a moment before closing her notebook with a snap and setting it aside.

“I’m listening,” she said, watching him warily as she took a seat on the bench.

Molly cleared his throat. “Do you know a Beau?”

She blinked at him.

“Like the staff? Of course, we’re all trained wi—”

“No, a person. I think your order is connected to her somehow?”

“Err, forgive me, but that name isn’t much to go on. Do you have a family name?”

Molly wracked his brain. He didn’t think Beau had ever given a last name — he knew very little about her, really. Only when he thought back to one of his final nights with the group did he even remember her full first name, supplied by Caleb’s Zemnian lilt in his memory. The two had been arguing on the side of the Glory Run Road not long after Yasha and the others were taken in the night. That plan is certain death, Beauregard.

“I think it’s short for Beauregard, I don’t have a last… name…” Molly trailed off as Julian started laughing heartily, drawing attention from the auditors around them. He furrowed his brow, feeling left out on the joke. “What’s so funny?”

Julian wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Whew, sorry. That’s a good one. Of course I’ve heard of Expositor Beauregard: she’s infamous. She screwed up so hard that we were using her name as a verb for a while. Used to tell the trainees not to ‘pull a Beauregard.’ Then she disappeared for months — probably from the shame — and when she turned up again it was to save the capitol from a fiendish invasion by people trying to free a betrayer god. It was all we talked about for ages. Do you want to hear the story about the big fuck-up that made her famous? It’s a good one.”

Molly wasn’t sure they were talking about the same person. The Beau he’d known was basically a nobody, a shifty misfit like all the rest of their group. And she certainly wasn’t someone who could fight off a fiend invasion. He raised his hands in front of him. “Woah, woah, woah. First things first, what does she look like? I’m looking for a human, hair short on the sides but long enough to tie on top, kind of flat—”

“Never met her, unfortunately. But we’ve all heard the stories. It’s not exactly a common name, either.”

“I suppose not.” Molly sighed and took a sip of his drink, now tepid, and wrinkled his nose.

Julian looked pensive. “Tell you what, I’ll fire off a quick message and see what I can find. But you’ve got to promise to let me see the site tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Molly agreed, feeling like he’d lost the thread of connection he’d thought he held. “A message can’t hurt.” Messages had brought him nothing so far, and he was starting to think that his little group had disappeared into obscurity after they broke apart the Iron Shepherds. Caleb and Nott had almost certainly set off on their own after that disaster on the Glory Run Road: Caleb had always looked ready to run at a moment’s notice, and Nott basically clung to him. Yasha probably disappeared into a storm somewhere, while the rest retreated back to wherever they’d come from in the first place.

He watched Julian fumble in her pack for something, and retrieve a smooth river stone about the size of her palm. She tapped it three times and then spoke into it, counting off words on her unoccupied hand as she did so.

“Inquiry: physical description of Expositor Beauregard? Known whereabouts?” She looked at Molly and waved her hand in a circular motion, looking for more information.

“Old friend needs to reconnect. Also ask if she has associates?” Julian nodded.

“Known associates? Member of Uthodurnian expedition seeks information, claims to be old friend.” Molly narrowed his eyes a bit at the word ‘claims,’ but he knew that the archivist didn’t mean anything by it.

A moment passed where Julian just tapped her fingers on the surface of the table impatiently. Then reopening the notebook to a blank page, she began furiously scribbling. Molly peeked at the words, but they were written in some kind of shorthand. He waited for her to finish, tail twitching with anticipation.

“Alright, they say she’s a human woman, brown skin, brown hair, blue eyes. Last heard from in Eiselcross, in a group of nine? That was unclear. Sending spells are the worst, sorry. Currently unknown whereabouts, but has a home in Rosohna.” Molly’s stomach fluttered with excitement as she went through the details, then flipped as he realized that he had no damned idea where any of those places were. Something simple like ‘Zadash’ had probably been too much to ask for.

“Thank you so much for your help, dear. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. We meet here in the mornings just after first light.” He took his leave with a neat curtsy, but Julian just folded her arms and replied with a curt ‘sure.’ Manners seemed to not be part of what the Cobalt Soul taught their members, if the two members Molly had met were any indication.

Bubbling with excitement, Molly all but ran through the complex. Finding Sier was sometimes difficult, as they valued their peace and quiet, but Molly had figured out their routine and went straight to the secluded area they favoured in the afternoon sun. Sure enough, they were there, sitting cross-legged with a book in their lap. Molly tried not to vibrate with excitement as he approached, but it was hard to keep his hands still.

“Mollymauk,” they said, not looking up from the page.

He took a steadying breath. “Do you have a map of Wildemount?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“Of course. Do you need it this minute?” They looked up at him, scanning from feet to face. Evidently something betrayed that yes, he did need it right this minute, because they closed the book and stood before he could answer. “What happened?”

Molly wiggled in place. “An audito— archivist from the Cobalt Soul showed up and apparently they’ve heard of my friends. They gave me a few locations, but I don’t know jack all about geography.”

“That is fortuitous news. Please, come to my chambers. I do not have such effects on my person.”

Sier steered him towards the room they shared with Reani, only to find Reani and Belle playing cards on the bed. They both looked up as the room suddenly filled, and Sier retrieved a stack of maps from their bag. One thing that Molly certainly appreciated about them was that they were always prepared, seeming to carry every tool possible in their bag. After flipping through the pile, they selected one particularly thick map and unfolded it on the small table.

“What’s going on?” asked Reani, setting down a run of three sword cards. She appeared to be winning whatever game was being played by a fair margin, having many more runs and three-of-a-kinds laid out in front of her than Clarabelle.

“Got a tip about my old friends.” Molly leaned over Sier’s shoulder and rested his chin there as they smoothed out the map. They pointed to a cluster of islands to the northwest. Molly sounded out the name slowly, E-I-S-E-L-cross. Since he’d begun practicing reading and writing, it had become easier to recognize groups of letters that he already knew. Much of the map was still gibberish at a glance, but he could also pick out names that he recognized, like Zadash.

Sier moved to point at a spot diametrically opposed to the first in relation to where they were, on the far side of the continent to the southeast. Molly frowned. The name there was in a different script, one he couldn’t read. “Is that Rosohna?”

“Yes, it is the capital of Xhorhas. It is a beautiful city, with an enchanted sky.”

“And how about Eiselcross?”

“That is a frozen, barren land. To travel there without a guide is certain death.”

“Huh.” Well, that made the choice easy. ‘Last seen’ in Eiselcross didn’t mean they had stayed long, and going there didn’t sound appealing if it was actually a frozen wasteland. And if he didn’t find them, he’d be stranded on an island. Molly leaned in and measured the distance between Shadycreek Run and Zadash with his fingers, then compared it to the distance to Rosohna. It looked like approximately twice the distance, as the crow flies, but with mountains in between and no continuous roads. “Well, it looks like I have my work cut out for me either way.”

Cards rustled behind him as the others abandoned their game to join in looking over the map. All four of their bodies were pressed closely together in the tight space.

“Does this mean you’re leaving?” came a soft voice from over Molly’s head. He turned to face Clarabelle and link his arm in hers.

“I might just, dear. How about we move to somewhere more comfortable and have a chat?”

They all moved from the cramped bedroom and settled around a table in a quiet corner with the map laid out in the center and a variety of food and drink a safe distance from the parchment. Molly explained the situation as briefly as he could, though his brain kept trying to supply superfluous details he was sure didn’t matter to someone without the context of having met his friends. He truncated the story, only telling the part about how the Cobalt Soul archivist had shown up that afternoon and how she was able to contact their headquarters to ask about his group.

“So, I suppose I should be heading to Rosohna now,” he mused. “If they live there, they’re bound to turn up eventually, even if they do travel a lot. It looks like a long journey, but at least there’s no war to worry about. I do feel a little guilty, though, leaving you all without repaying all that you’ve given me. I want to help out with the ritual, get some closure for the expedition, but I’m not nearly powerful enough for that sort of thing.” He picked at his nails. Running around with a group of powerful magic users had certainly left him feeling insecure in his own magic use, especially in the battle with Maeral, where his own meager spells had been mostly useless.

Reani punched him in the arm, hard, and he whined in response. “Oh shut up, Molly. You’re plenty powerful. Just because you don’t know how to do a boring all-day ritual doesn’t mean you haven’t been pulling your weight around here. Without your moonbeam, that bloodsucker would have gone free and probably made a snack out of all the unsuspecting bookworms out here.”

Sier raised an eyebrow at the mention of the moonbeam, and Molly remembered then that he and Reani had been the only ones in the hallway to see it happen. He still didn’t know if it was something he could do again or if Sehanine had heard his call for aid, but he folded a little under Sier’s scrutiny.

“When would you leave?” Clarabelle’s eyes were wet, and her voice low. Molly felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving her behind, knowing that she had come to rely on him for comfort as much as he did from her. He snaked his tail around her leg under the table and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Soon. It’s going to take forever to get there, and I don’t want to miss them. It’s the only lead I have, and I might not get another.” He traced a whorl in the table’s grain with a finger, fidgeting anxiously.

A ringing laugh erupted from his side, and Molly looked up to see Reani snorting at him. Not for the first time today, he felt a stab of annoyance at being left out on a joke. He shot her a questioning glare as his nail scraped the soft inner wood of the knot.

“Did you really think you were gonna walk that whole distance?” Reani chortled. “I just walked you through a tree like, three days ago. I know a tree in Rosohna, I can get you there whenever you want. Of course, you’re gonna end up in the hoity toity district, but I’m sure you’ll find your way pretty quickly. Way faster than walking all the way there.”

“Well, I had planned to ride at least part of the way, but if you’re offering…”

“Of course I am! What’s one spell between friends? We can do it the day after we do the ritual: have two celebrations in one before you go.”

Molly tapped his toes excitedly at the prospect. Though he hated to leave behind his new friends, he could think of no better way to go than on the high note of having completed their business here. He pulled Reani into a tight hug, and they began animatedly planning the next few days. First on the agenda was the ritual, of course, but Reani had big plans for a party afterwards.

A group convened the next morning for the ritual expedition. The Cobalt Soul archivist arrived and introduced herself with much more grace than Molly had expected, given their first interaction. Nobody even asked why she was there, so he didn’t have to explain the deal they’d made the previous day. With the weight of the supplies distributed evenly between them, they set off through the morning mists in search of what could be their final exploration site.

Julian asked Reani questions about this and previous expeditions as they traveled, taking notes in shorthand. She had keen insight, immediately picking up on the fact that the group had battled a person who had been alive during Molaesmyr’s fall, and who was likely responsible for the desecrated site that they now sought to cleanse. Once the details of the encounter were explained, her stream of questions began again.

“So, they were sleeping when you found them, and under the effects of a powerful necromancy spell? With a silver thread leading out from here?” Julian indicated to a spot on her chest, and Molly affirmed, though he didn’t remember anyone mentioning the thread. Julian hummed and scribbled more notes, then asked about the mirror and other enchanted items Maeral had owned.

“And they didn’t cast a single spell?” Everyone shook their heads. Molly explained how the only magic Maeral had used had been the kind of thing vampires are innately capable of, and they hadn’t found any kind of focus or components when they searched the study or bedroom.

Julian chewed the end of her pen. “This just doesn’t add up. There is way too much high-level magic going on in this picture for them to have acted alone. That spell they were under when you found them? Sounds like they were astral projecting to me, and that’s basically the most powerful magic modern arcanists are capable of. I snuck into the artifact storage area last night too, and found a few things that look like they’re from the Age of Arcanum to me. I think that they must have been working with a powerful mage: someone who could very well still be alive, given how long elves can live. This is something the Soul will have to look into more. It has dangerous implications for Wildemount…”

Molly ferried them all through the mirror again, and they unpacked the supplies as Julian inspected the room. She took sketches of the imagery and layout of the room, then inspected the pit and ceiling. Sier directed them to set up the small braziers in specific positions as they laid out the book containing the ritual and their holy symbol on a blanket on the ground.

“You will need to keep the fires fed, but not blazing. Add new incense as the old cones run out to this brazier, and herbs to the rest. The goal is to let them smoulder slowly.”

Clarabelle started the coals with flames from her cupped hands, and they started working. Sier began a monotonous chant, reading from the book. Immediately the tingle of magic seeped into the air, and after a few minutes the creeping shadows seemed to begin to recede. Time began to slip away at a rapid pace, as they stoked the fires and the piles of herbs and incense shrank.

After the first few hours, Molly let Julian back out through the mirror to allow her to do an in-depth search of the rest of the estate, with a warning that exploring anywhere that hadn’t been chalked was at her own risk. She waved him off with a ‘yeah, yeah,’ pulling the forked weapon from her belt and giving it a spin. He returned to the others and continued with the ritual.

The day flew by, the magic making time move rapidly and bolstering Sier’s endurance. The ritual took a full twenty four hours, but the exhaustion didn’t set in until it was complete. They dabbed the anointing oils on the desecrated altar as Sier recited a final verse, different than the ones they had repeated throughout the day, and the sigils they had traced in anointing oils flared with light. The oppressive presence in the room subsided, and the group collectively slumped in relief.

Clarabelle peered into the pit. Molly looked down too, and found he was better able to see the bottom now that the malevolent magic was banished and the shadows didn’t creep as far. There were distinct humanoid skeletons on the top of the pile, still draped in bits of fabric.

“We should bring them all out,” she said, pointing the crystal on her staff down into the pit to better illuminate the space. “My family can ask their names, give them a proper burial. They deserve better than this.”

Molly took her hand and squeezed gently. “Definitely,” he agreed, “but not today. We’re all exhausted. Come on, let’s go outside and get some air.” He gave her arm a gentle tug, and together they trailed toward the exit.

A group of auditors with stronger elven lineage were waiting for them to exit, along with the Cobalt Soul archivist. Julian sat with her feet on the surface of the huge stone desk in Maeral’s study, studying her fingernails, but when the group came through the mirror the auditors all stood up attentively.

“Did it work?” one asked with anticipation clear on his face. Molly nodded, and the faces of the gathered elves lit up.

Without looking up from her hands, Julian spoke up. “Well, let’s go see if that impacted the corruption, shall we?” Her legs swung from the desk and she was standing in one fluid movement, loping towards the door. The rest of the assembly trailed after her, struggling to keep up. Molly suppressed a yawn as they jogged in pursuit; he’d been up and on his feet for over twenty four hours, and the exhaustion was starting to set in.

The land outside was mostly unchanged. Since Maeral had been killed the mists that had once clung to the ground here had dissipated, at least during the day, but Molly didn’t see much of a difference now that they had cleansed the ritual site. The grass was still a silvery grey, and the vines that grew over much of the ruins were still spiny and purplish. He moved to a pillar to inspect a vine more closely, and Clarabelle joined him, humming and weaving a pattern in the air.

Shaking her head, she stroked one of the serrated grey-pink leaves. “They’re still not free from corruption. They still… hunger. I never understood what it meant, but they still feel dark, angry. I guess we didn’t find the source after all.”

The auditors’ shoulders fell, and they began speculating amongst themselves as the group returned to base camp. Clarabelle’s disappointment was palpable, so Molly looped his arm through hers and reassured her that they still did a lot of good that day. They’d definitely find the source soon, he said as he smoothed the fine fur on her forearm.

It was incredibly disappointing for Molly as well, even though he had no stake in the history of this place. With his looming departure, he’d wanted nothing more than to leave on the high note of having finally discovered and fixed what ailed this land. With no other leads he knew that it would probably be a long time before that was possible, and he didn’t have the time to wait around if he wanted to catch up with the Mighty Nein. He clung to Clarabelle’s arm, wishing he could take her with him but knowing that her place was here.

The air in their room was somber that night, both of them quietly enjoying each other’s company but knowing it would probably be the last time. Molly was tucked up under Clarabelle’s arm, embroidering a little peacock feather onto the front of one of her tunics.

“I wish I was a cleric,” she sighed. “I would send you messages all the time. It’s not fair that Caduceus has it but never uses it, and I want to but can’t.”

Molly tied off the end of one thread and pulled out a new colour. “Apparently it’s something I can learn once I get more experience, and once I figure it out you’ll be the first person I message. Only one of us needs to know it for both of us to be able to talk, right?”

“Yeah. But you have to promise to check in on a regular basis, because I won’t be able to initiate. If I don’t hear anything from you in a long time, I’ll steal Reani’s mirror and scry on you.” She poked him in the ribs playfully and he cackled, holding his needle a safe distance away from their bodies.

“I know you would, dear. But I promise, I won’t give you the cold shoulder. I love you too much for that.” He pulled the thread taught, sliding one of the final lines in place for the center of the feather’s eye. Admiring his handiwork, he added the final few stitches and tied off the thread on the inside of the garment.

“Now, before I go, will you finally teach me the trick for your hair? I want something to remember you by, too.” He passed her the finished tunic, and she caressed the embroidered feather lovingly.

“Mmhmm. What colours do you want? Once they go in, they’re basically never going to come out unless you know someone who can do a restoration. That’s why my parents were so mad when they saw how crazy I did mine.”

Molly thought about it. He did love all of the colours that Clarabelle had, but something about the teal really appealed to him. It reminded him of her more than the others, probably because of her armor. It would also compliment his tattoo nicely.

“Teal would be lovely.”

Belle went over to her discarded shield and armor at the side of the room and began picking small tufts of lichen off the surface, then deposited them in a pestle and mortar. Molly watched her curiously as she added a few drops of liquid from a crystal vial and began to make a paste.

“Of course it’s plants. Everything is plants with you.”

She approached with the pestle and a small wooden stick. “Lichen isn’t a plant, silly. I would know, it doesn’t even talk. Now, where do you want this?”

Molly shook his head forcefully, so his loose curls fell where they naturally wanted to be. He grabbed the curl that fell between his eyes and held it up. “Here, and a couple other spots on the side you think look nice. The same spots always seem to form the same curls, so if you do a curl it’ll look nice, I think.”

Clarabelle knelt in front of him and scooped some paste onto the stick. She dabbed some onto the roots and strands of the curl on his forehead, then turned his head a little by pulling one horn. “We’ll leave it in for a few minutes, then wash it out. Or get someone to prestiwhatever it, because it stains fabric really badly.”

Molly laughed as she continued applying the paste, imagining a younger Belle finding that out the hard way. They did end up asking someone to prestidigitate the paste away, because Molly only had so many shirts and he couldn’t think of a way to get his current one off without ruining it. He had never claimed to be a planner. In the end, he had three streaks of teal hair that Clarabelle promised would continue to grow that colour until he used magic to remove them. Molly only laughed.

“Dear, I’ve marked myself with things more permanent than this with far less forethought. This is my reminder of you; I’m going to keep it. Every time my hair falls in my face, I’ll think of you.” As if on cue, a curl slipped from behind his horn and fell into his eyes. “Now come on, let’s get to bed. Reani wants to make brunch tomorrow and I know you’ll want to be up early to set the menu before she can.”

“Oh no, she’s going to try to serve birds’ eggs, isn’t she?”

Molly helped cook his own send-off meal. Reani was disappointed when she showed up and they were already halfway done with the preparations, but nonetheless she insisted on making a contribution. She pulled a bottle of plum wine from only the gods know where, and wasted a powerful spell to grow a watermelon in the middle of the canteen. Molly wasn’t complaining: he loved watermelon and had only lived long enough to have it a handful of times.

The merrymaking wasn’t limited to just their group of four. Several of the Uthodurnians came over to wish him well and thank him for the help he’d provided, or in a few cases for the guidance he’d provided through readings. Others probably came just for the watermelon, but Molly couldn’t blame them for that. He appreciated their well wishes all the same.

Noon approached quickly, and with it the scheduled hour of his departure. They left the mess in the common area and he collected his things, shouldering the heavy pack that contained all his worldly possessions. His old coat was wrapped like a bedroll and strapped to the top, clashing garishly with everything else he was wearing. They all met in front of the large maple tree that Reani favoured for transporting through, boots crunching through the ice-covered leaf litter.

“Well, I supposed this is goodbye,” Molly said, his voice somber. “Thank you all for everything you’ve done for me. You don’t know how much it meant to have such lovely people supporting me through the past month. I’m sorry it didn’t work out yesterday.”

“It was our pleasure,” replied Sier. “I hope you find the destiny you are looking for. Be safe.” They unclasped their hands and allowed Molly to pull them into a gentle hug.

“I barely even did anything except let you do all the lockpicking,” said Reani as she hugged him much more forcefully. When they pulled apart, she kept her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “You’re welcome back any time. Just send me a message if you want transport. If you’ve got a tree, we can make it work.”

Molly knew he wouldn’t be able to message any time soon, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. As if thinking about the same thing, Sier reached into their component pouch and handed him a piece of copper wire. “For when you are able,” they explained. Molly nodded and added it to his own components, stored in a small leather satchel on his belt.

“Oh, and take these,” said Reani as she dumped a pile of flower crowns on his arm. “They’re for the people whose tree you’re going through. If they’re not home you can just hand them out to random people, I guess. But at least try to knock.”

“Alright. I guess that’s a small price to pay in exchange for free transport clear across a continent.”

Clarabelle stepped in front of him, her eyes full of tears. She held out a tied handkerchief for him, bulging with what was probably dried fruit and nuts. He accepted the bundle, hands lingering on her own for a moment, then pocketed it. He didn’t miss the beetle motif on the fabric, and knew that it was one of her favourites. He hugged her earnestly and fought back tears of his own, knowing that if he saw her again it would be against all odds.

“Don’t forget your promise,” she whispered into the top of his head. He nodded into her sternum. They pulled apart a bit and he looked up into her eyes. His resolve to go faltered, and he was torn between staying with the new friend or going to find the old ones. Yasha and Clarabelle were very different, but they both felt like they completed his soul.

“I’ll message when I can. I promise. You’re one of my best friends, and friends stay in contact, right?” She nodded, and he squeezed her hands with his own.

Stepping away, Molly looked to the group. “Keep up the good work around here. I’m sure you’ll solve the mystery soon. I feel like you’re close, and if anyone can figure this out it’s you beautiful, brilliant people.”

Reani put a hand on the tree. “Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Molly affirmed. He took a deep breath as she cast the spell, steeling himself for the separation. He tried not to think about the tears swimming in Clarabelle’s eyes behind him. The bark of the tree rolled back to reveal a portal to another land, cast in darkness save for the light of tiny lanterns from above. Knowing he had only seconds, he stepped forward.

Chapter Text

Molly took a deep breath and passed through the shimmering gateway in the tree. An odd sensation washed over him, like walking through a cold waterfall. He turned back to look at the tree he’d just exited from, and caught a glimpse of Clarabelle and Reani waving at him through the doorway. He waved back and the gate collapsed, leaving just the trunk of a mundane — albeit huge — tree.

Holding back emotion, he took in his surroundings. He was in a garden, on a rooftop, in a wealthy-looking residential neighborhood. It was night, but lanterns hanging overhead provided a gentle light. The tree was easily more than a dozen yards tall, its top hidden from this vantage point by the branches below. Though it was winter, the boughs were still covered in green foliage.

This was not what he had expected. For one, the time of day seemed to have completely reversed. He had also assumed he’d be landing in a yard, on ground level. Who even had trees on roofs?

Well, he had to find a way down. Looking around, Molly eventually spotted a trapdoor under the thin sheet of snow coating the ground, finding it after his boot connected with the metal-lined door. One tug on its handle revealed that it was locked, with no visible locking mechanism. No way for him to pick that; he was no rogue. The only other option was to climb down the building, it seemed. Peering over the edge, he could see that he was about three stories up in a tower made of interlocking stones. No easy task, but he was certainly nimble enough to attempt it. But perhaps it would be best to try knocking first—

There was an ear-splitting crack in the air behind him, like that of lightning breaching the sky. Before he could turn to see the source of the noise, hands seized both his arms and restrained him.

“Identify yourself. You are trespassing on the property of den Thelyss.” The voice was cold, and the tongue unfamiliar… but strangely, Molly understood the words. His stomach flopped. Another fragment of Lucien’s past, most likely.

But there wasn’t time to worry about that now; he was about to be arrested.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf. I was sent here by a friend, by some kind of tree magic. I didn’t know I’d end up on a bloody roof, I swear!” he replied in Common. While he had understood the demand, he couldn’t conjure up the words to reply in the same language, whatever it was.

“Who exactly is this ‘friend?’” the voice asked, in Common this time. The accent was soft, languid, even. “I do not know of any such ability among the residents here.”

As Molly began to reply, there was a snapping of fingers. The two figures restraining him turned him to face the speaker, and kicked his knees out from under him. He kneeled in the snow, which immediately started melting into the leather of his boots.

The speaker looked quite a bit like Sier, oddly enough. Silver hair, but short and swept to one side; pale eyes that reflected in the moonlight, and skin with a purpleish hue. Their robes flowed from their shoulders to the ground, revealing nothing about their figure.

“Her name is Reani, she, uh—” Molly realized that he had no idea if Reani had a last name, nor how she knew these people. She’d said she’d only been here once…

“She sent me with these, for her friends here. The people who own the tree.” He flailed one arm, which was being secured from the elbow down. The stack of flower crowns in the crook of his elbow shook a little, losing some petals. They littered the snow like confetti.

There was a flicker of recognition in the drow’s eyes, but they continued to study Molly intently.

“Luckily, it is within my power to verify these claims,” they said, withdrawing a hand from within the curtain of rippling fabrics around them. Their hands moved in a familiar pattern, then they raised a piece of wire to their lips and began to speak.

“Jester, it is Essek. You have a visitor, allegedly a friend of one ‘Reani.’ Please verify. They are a purple tiefling, calling themself ‘Mollymauk Tealeaf.’”

Molly barely even heard the message. His brain shut down partially when Essek said “Jester.” It was by no means a common name, and Molly’s mind began racing. Could it possibly be her? He snapped back to awareness at the sound of his name.

The figure looming over him studied him neutrally as they waited for a response, their face suddenly splitting as they received one. Eyes closed, mouth grimacing, Molly could only imagine what they were hearing if that was indeed his Jester of the other end of the spell. His imagination filled in a high-pitched squealing.

Essek’s face steeled itself back into a mask of neutral amusement.

“Your identity will need verification,” he stated, moving a hand in a signal to his escort, “but at this time you are not under arrest. Follow me, please.”

Essek moved towards the trapdoor. “It’s locked,” Molly warned, but Essek only smirked as he bent to knock upon its surface. The knock reverberated in the air unnaturally, and the door swung freely when he lifted the handle. He looked back expectantly, then disappeared down the stairs.

Molly moved to follow, noticing idly that he had not left any footprints in the snow.

The guards flanked him all the way down to the main room of the house.

“Sit,” Essek commanded, so Molly did. While normally he wasn’t one to take such commands without a bit of brattiness, Molly could tell that the drow was dangerous and that the ice he walked was very thin.

As he reached for a chair, one of the guards held out a hand expectantly. “Really?” Molly said, petulant, but unclasped his sword belt and handed it over. They didn’t need to know about the dagger in the thigh of his boot.

His hosts were unsurprisingly bad company as they waited. Molly crossed his legs at the knee and tapped a toe in the air in impatience. Essek studied him for a while, but said nothing, eventually withdrawing a book from somewhere and beginning to read.

The silence buzzed in Molly’s ears until it was too much to handle.

“So what exactly tipped you off that I was here?”

Essek looked up from the book. “When a doorway opens at the top of the most infamous landmark in the Firmaments and an unknown figure starts lurking around, it hardly goes unnoticed.”

“I wasn’t lurking,” Molly insisted, eliciting a smirk from Essek. “So, what are we waiting for, exactly? One of your higher-ups?”

Essek straightened, his head tilting a little to look down on Molly. “As the Shadowhand, there is none higher above me than the Bright Queen herself.”

“Very fancy, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“The occupants of this home will be along shortly. They wish to verify your identity.”

“And who exactly lives—”

There was an eruption of sound as a set of chimes were flung from their hanger by the force of the door opening beneath them. The door slammed against the wall, making Essek wince. Molly turned to look.

“Why is it so damn dark?” shouted a familiar voice.

Four little lights appeared in the room, highlighting the figures now standing in the outline of the door frame.

“No fucking way.”

“Good to see you too, unpleasant one.”

A high-pitched squeal assaulted his ears, and suddenly he was being crushed. His body was lifted off his chair, til his toes could barely touch the ground. Black spots danced in his vision, and he wheezed involuntarily.

“Jester, you are choking him,” came a Zemnian lilt. The pressure released, and Molly dropped to the floor. He caught himself, but started to tip over from the lack of oxygen.

“Sorry, I was just so excited!” A blue hand reached out to steady him. “Molly, is it really you?”

“The one and only,” he said, grinning.

Beau stepped around the furniture.

“This—” she punched him in the arm, and he knew it would bruise, “—is for dying. And this is for coming back.” She pulled him into a hug, the tenderness of which he never would have thought possible. Gone was the awkwardness of the performative hug given to Caleb in the Labenda swamp. When they pulled apart, he caught a glimpse of a shimmer of tears in the corners of her eyes.

“How did you come back, Molly?” asked Jester, now kneeling on an armchair, elbows leaning on the back to support her head. Her tail curled with excitement behind her. Fjord entered the room and sat down next to her. He looked matured, sporting a short beard and new scars.

“First things first,” came an unfamiliar deep voice from behind him. “We’ve got to make sure everything’s copacetic.”

Molly turned to see an exceptionally tall person bending through the short doorway, a cascade of pink waves obscuring their face. The staff they carried and their teal armor were striking, and nigh-identical to those of a friend he had just left behind. The figure straightened, revealing a face with amethyst eyes and a broad nose exactly like Clarabelle Clay’s. They inspected Molly carefully, and Molly felt frozen in place with shock and the intensity of the gaze.

Then he burst out laughing.

Caduceus only smiled. “Well, no undead here. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Cad—”

“Caduceus Clay,” echoed Molly. “I can’t bloody believe it. I’ve been rooming with your sister for the past month, and neither of us had any idea that we had mutual acquaintances. What a disaster. If we’d just connected things from our stories, I wouldn’t have had to wait so damn long to find you all.”

Essek cleared his throat, now standing. Hovering? Molly couldn’t quite tell.

“It seems that Mollymauk is indeed a friend of yours. If the matter of the trespassing is resolved, I’ll be going—”

“Oh no you don’t! We need to have a conversation, in private.” Beau was at his side in a flash, blocking his route to the door. Caleb crossed his arms and nodded in agreement.

Essek paled, almost imperceptibly. “Of course. Please, lead the way.” His voice was steady, obviously practiced in deception. He motioned with a hand, and the two guards saluted and exited the building.

Beau pulled Essek toward the hall, Caleb trailing in their wake.

“We’ll be back in a minute,” she called from the next room. The door slammed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that there was some tension between those two.” Molly laughed, looking around the now significantly emptied room. “Where are Yasha and Nott, anyway?” he asked, anxiety twisting his insides. Gods, what if Yasha had gone away?

“A lot has happened since you left…” Fjord began, then immediately changed his tone when he saw Molly’s face fall. “No, no, they’re fine! But uh, Nott looks a little different. They both wanted to wait a minute so as not to overwhelm you. Yasha needed a minute herself.”

“Speaking of different, what on Exandria is that accent? Who are you, and what have you done with Fjord?”

Fjord covered his face with a hand, folding inward like a flower in the dark. Obviously a bit of a sore subject.

“Nevermind, I don’t really care. I like it, really. It sounds a little sexy, even.” Molly grinned as it had the desired effect: Fjord flushed and slumped even further. Jester giggled and whispered a quiet I told you so.

“You can come in, now,” called Caduceus, opening the door wide.

A halfling with dark skin and darker braids came in, looking a little sheepish. If not for the distinctive crossbow at her hip, Molly would have never recognized her.

“Nott?” he gasped, taking in the wild variety of colours and textures. She wore a multitude of button necklaces and bracelets, and when she looked up he caught a flash of a teal shimmer around her eyes.

“It’s Veth, now, but I don’t mind,” the halfling said, and the voice was the same as he remembered. “It’s a long story, and I promise to tell you, but later. Right now we all want to know where you’ve been.” She approached and Molly leaned down to pull her into a gentle hug, careful not to lift her. He’d discovered recently that members of the shorter races despised being picked up without permission, as it was seen as a form of infantilization.

“I didn’t steal a single thing from a happy person while you were gone,” she murmured in his ear. “Not even you.”

Molly was honestly surprised, given how he had known her to be before they departed. Still, it was a pleasant surprise, and his smile was wide and genuine as he recalled the time he had imparted the directive upon her. The fact that she’d remembered, and stuck to it, was perhaps a testament to how strongly his death had impacted her.

“So, is Yasha a goliath now?” he teased, mussing Veth’s hair gently.

“Even better,” said Caduceus, offering Yasha a hand as she came inside.

Her attire was even more goth than it had been before, if that were possible. Now dressed all in black, her presence overwhelmed the room. Blue kohl accented her eyes, which were red and bloodshot. Small streaks could be seen where she’d wiped tears away and taken some of the kohl with them.

But her hair, that was what held Molly’s attention most. Last he’d seen her it had been black at the root and white at the tip, but now both the roots and tips were white, which a black gradient in between.

His eyes sparkled at the sight of her. He moved as if under a spell, gravitating to her and hopping into her arms. Once he was tucked with his arms around her shoulders, supported under the knee and back by her arms, he relaxed fully for the first time since he’d left the earth a second time.

He’d found his other half, and felt complete once more.

“My charm,” he breathed, nuzzling into her hair.

“Oh, Molly.” Her voice was so soft, and it wavered. “Where have you been?”

“A long story, my dear. Shall we sit down?” She nodded.

“I’ll put the tea on,” said Caduceus.

“He is exactly like his sister,” Molly mumbled into Yasha’s hair as she carried him towards the sitting area.

As they settled in, Caleb came back into the room, followed by Essek and Beau. Essek looked disheveled, and smoothed his hair as he made his way out of the house without a word.

“I didn’t think he was either of your types,” cackled Molly, now seated in Yasha’s lap.

“Fuck you, Molly,” shot Beau, taking a seat haphazardly in a chair in a way that it was definitely not designed for. Caleb only flushed, and hovered near the wall.

Caduceus came back with two stacks of cups, then returned to the kitchen.

Molly jabbed toward the kitchen door with his thumb. “So, when’d you pick him up?”

“Right after you… you know.” Beau waved her hand in the air vaguely. “We needed a cleric, and he was the only guy in a hundred miles crazy enough to help. But stop deflecting, we want to know what happened to you!”

Caduceus returned with an overwhelmingly large teapot and sat crosslegged on the floor at the low center table, pouring steaming liquid into the delicate cups. Veth passed them around as Molly began his story.

“Well, I died. Don’t give me that face, there’s no point tiptoeing around it. And I stayed where you buried me until around a month ago. Lovely grave marker, I’m told. Better than expected from a bunch of grave robbers, that’s for sure.”

It had been a joke, but Beau and Fjord’s faces darkened and Fjord looked away. A light seemed to go off in Jester’s head, and she began to dig in a side pocket of her bag.

“Some lovely fellow came along, a follower of the Moonweaver, and saw my grave. And just my luck, they turned out to be a cleric, and a mighty generous one. They dug me up and got me back on my feet. Bought me clothes, sundries, equipment, and offered me work. Not a bad friend to have when you wake up without a copper to your name— Ow, hey!”

A leather pouch had flown at his head out of nowhere, and though he’d managed to block it with his arms, the impact still hurt. Molly looked at Beau, who was pointedly inspecting her fingernails and pretending not to be listening. He opened the purse, which was full of silver coins. No, wait, was that platinum?

“We’re really sorry, Molly. We thought maybe we would use your money to bring you back. But the only cleric we found wasn’t strong enough.” Jester pouted, then leaned in to hand him a small bundle. “I saved your cards, to remember you by. They were really beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as me, my dear,” he teased, accepting the bundle. He unwrapped it to find the aforementioned cards: some familiar, some not. “I see you’ve added to them? Lovely work.”

She beamed at him, and he blew her a little kiss then fished in a pocket, looking for the water damaged Moon card.

Fjord cleared his throat. “I, uh, took your sword. And I… consumed… it?” His voice got higher at the end of the sentence. “So, it’s gone. And I’m very sorry about that, but I promise we can repay you—”

Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got a matching set, now. Still don’t know what all they do, actually.” Caleb brightened visibly at that, so Molly pointed to the dining table where the guard had deposited his sword belt. Caleb slid a noticeably thicker tome from under his jacket and leafed through it on the table, finding the appropriate spell. Retrieving a feather and a pearl from a pocket, he began to do the same ritual he’d used to identify the Summer’s Dance sword all that time ago.

“Now, where was I? Ah, right. I ended up working as muscle for an expedition to some ruins west of Shadycreek Run, and meeting a few interesting people.”

“Molaesmyr?” asked Caduceus when there was an appropriately long pause in which to interject.

“The very same. And that’s where I ended up meeting some people whom you apparently all know, but I didn’t find that out until I got here. Actually, I’ve got gifts for you.” He waved Veth over to his pile of belongings. “No, not in the bag, behind it— yeah, that.”

Veth approached with an armful of flower crowns in a variety of colours, choosing a circlet of daisies for herself. Inspecting the rest with an appraising eye, she began to distribute them. White and purple violets for Caleb, who hardly noticed the addition to his ensemble, yarrow in a variety of shades for Yasha, and so on.

Beau was visibly flushing now, her mask of indifference cracking as the flower crowns drew closer. Her redness painted a pretty picture as to what kind of history she’d had with Reani, and Molly cackled to himself. A whole month he’d thought about setting the two up, and they’d already been there and done that.

“I take it you know Reani quite well, then?” he shot at her, waggling his eyebrows salaciously. She averted her gaze, so he respectfully dropped the topic. “She was in charge of clearing out the ruins, along with one Clarabelle Clay.”

Caduceus nodded but didn’t interrupt, listening with rapt interest. Molly took a sip of his tea, not longer burning hot, and was pleasantly surprised to taste a familiar floral blend.

“Me and that cleric — Sier was their name — joined them in clearing the ruins. I’m told that since the Clay family pushed back the corruption in the Savalirwood, the ruins have been a lot more dangerous. It was a lot of fun, honestly. They were all good people.”

“Oh yeah, Reani is super cool!” interjected Jester. “We only knew her for like, two weeks, but we fought a dragon, and stole from some family that was into all kinds of bad stuff, and Fjord—”

“Ahem.” Jester stopped talking when Fjord cleared his throat pointedly. She looked like she might vibrate away with all her pent-up energy, but she managed to restrain herself and let Molly speak again.

“The whole time I was there, I was basically just waiting to hear back from Sier’s contacts to see if anyone had heard of you all,” Molly explained. “In the interim, we ended up stumbling upon a sleeping vampire, narrowly preventing them from escaping, and stumbling upon their hidden altar to Zehir that was dripping with all sorts of dark magic. Spent an entire day on a ritual to clean the place up. Then someone showed up who had heard of you and who could find out where you were. And the moment that they did, I came straight here. And got arrested, almost. I still can’t believe that I worked with two people who knew you all for a whole month and none of us ever put the pieces together.”

“Not everyone can be a master detective like us,” said Veth, reaching up for a high-five from Jester.

Caleb approached, clutching the twin scimitars.

“These are very fine weapons,” he said, eyeing Molly warily. “Where did you find them?”

“Would you believe me if I told you a god gave them to me as a gift?” He flashed his fangs and slid from Yasha’s lap to the cushion next to her. He patted his thigh. “Come, sit, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Ever uncomfortable with Molly’s attention, Caleb averted his gaze. His loss, Molly thought.

Beau groaned. “Don’t bullshit us, man. We all know you found them in those ruins.”

Molly shrugged. “Whatever you say. So, what do they do? I already had a slight mishap with one earlier.”

“One allows a casting of Misty Step, and the other allows a casting of Mirror Image. They are also enchanted to be extremely sharp. It is like they were made for you.” He handed Molly the scabbards.

“Like I said: they were.”

“Caught the eye of the Lady of Dreams, have you?” Caduceus rumbled. “Interesting how fate has brought so many champions together.”

“Champions?” Molly asked, sitting up straight from underneath Yasha’s heavy arm. She slid it to wrap around his waist, and pulled him close. Caduceus nodded towards her, and Fjord, and as almost an afterthought, Jester.

“Much has changed since we parted, Molly.” Fjord’s voice was somber. “I cast aside my pact with my patron and pledged myself to the Wildmother.” He flexed his forearm, and a broadsword appeared in his hand. It was a beautiful weapon: blade icy blue. It was also very much not the weathered falchion that Molly remembered.

It did look familiar, though. Molly wracked his brain, but his memory had never been the best. He finally pulled his journal from an inside pocket and began to leaf through the pages as Caduceus spoke of gods and destinies. Sure enough, on one of the earliest pages, there was a short description of a dream he’d had where Fjord held a sword of a similar description. He tore the corner off the page to mark it as ‘definitely more than a dream.’

“It seems that the gods are preparing for something, and it must be something big if they’re all choosing champions and then bringing them together. I don’t suppose you’ve had any direction from the Lady of Dreams, have you?” Caduceus eyed him hopefully.

Molly shrugged and held up his notebook. “Maybe a little, but it’s all rather vague. She’s shown me a few things, but I don’t know if they’re things that will happen or have happened, for the most part.” Flipping through the pages of his dream descriptions, very few bore the mark that he’d used whenever he suspected that a dream was more than mundane. He read out the short descriptions of his dreams the night after he’d come out of the grave, and Yasha’s hands tightened around him as he described the angel statues and the monster being unleashed and then destroyed.

“So I take it those have already happened?”

Caduceus shuffled, refolding his legs under himself in a different way and then rubbing blood back into his thin thighs. “Yeah, messy business. We’ll tell you about it in detail soon. I guess what’s relevant for you is that it was the Moonweaver who locked that monster — called the Laughing Hand, by the way — away in the first place. It was once the Crawling King’s champion, but freed by another. Anyway, it’s ash now, so you don’t need to worry about it, but it does make me wonder why She showed you those images.”

“Hells if I know,” said Molly, still flipping back and forth through the notebook. No other dreams really stood out to him as important, besides perhaps the recurring nightmare he’d been having, but that likely had more to do with the trauma of dying. His regular dreams would sometimes change partway through, chains snaking in from the shadows to bind those around him and dirt caving in on him from above. Those dreams always woke him in a sweat, sometimes tangling in the sheets. Clarabelle, bless her, always soothed him on those nights and made him a sleeping draught if he needed it.

“Well, communicating behind the Divine Gate is a tricky thing. It’s too bad we can’t commune with Her. I could try asking the Wildmother, but here’s no way to know if She talks with your god.”

“You can just talk to a god?” Molly asked, incredulous. “What do you do, just aim a Sending spell up to the sky?” His imagination conjured an image of the Wildmother holding a length of copper wire, whispering down to Caduceus from wherever it was that the gods lived.

Caduceus laughed genially. “No, it takes a bit more power than that, and a small ritual. They also only really answer yes or no questions. The Divine Gate between us prevents much more from going through.”

Eh, Molly figured he should have guessed as much. “Well, it’ll probably be a long time before we can ask Her. May as well start looking elsewhere.”

“I’ve got a few things I want to ask the Wildmother tonight, if you want to watch the ritual—”

Beau interjected halfway through Caduceus’ thought, looking at Molly skeptically. “Wait a second dude, what was that about ‘it’ll be a long time?’ Caddy’s not ever gonna be able to ask Her; he’s not Her follower—”

“Oh my gosh, Molly, are you a cleric now? What can you do?!” Jester butted in. She was looking at him with starry eyes, hands on her cheeks with a shocked but happy expression on her face. He preened a little under her gaze, adjusting the Moonweaver’s symbol on his coat.

“You could say I’m dabbling in magic, sure. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Grinning, he mumbled some Celestial and released an aurora around Beau, who flailed out of her chair. She was fast, but not fast enough, and the light clung to her and lit her up like a northern night sky.

Standing with fists clenched and radiating a soft light that danced from green to teal to purple, she grumbled. “Can you warn a bitch next time?”

Molly stopped concentrating and released the spell, which faded immediately. Jester looked impressed, and even gave a little clap. “I’m not very good yet. I need to train more so I can do that sending spell with the wire; I promised Clarabelle I’d message her.” He looked to Caduceus, whose ears drooped guiltily.

“I know Clarabelle, and I love sending messages!” Jester exclaimed, wire already in hand. “I sent one to Calliope for Caduceus before, I can send one for you, too!”

It was too late to object: she was already finished the hand movement for the spell and the wire was at her lips. Besides, Molly really did want to let Clarabelle know he was okay, even if it came in the form of an overexcited message from someone she barely knew. Fjord raised his hands and began counting off words as she spoke.

“Hi Clarabelle! Molly wanted you to know that he got here safely and found us and everything is great! How are you? Everything good at the—” Fjord ran out of fingers and shook his head. “Grove? Oh, balls.”

The response came through right away. Given the time of day, Molly assumed that Clarabelle was probably at the ruins trying to remove the bodies from Maeral’s lair. He had entrusted her with the pendant that activated the entrance before leaving. He tensed with anticipation as Jester began to relay the response.

“She says ‘Oh thank Melora. Tell him I’m happy he found them… wait a second, is this Jester? Are you Molly’s friend? Wow. Okay. Tell Caduceus that—’ … and she ran out of words. Should I send another one?”

“She just wants to berate me for not messaging,” mumbled Caduceus. “I’ll message her later. But the offer stands, Molly. If you want, we can ask the Wildmother some questions.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know where to start. I think you’re right about one thing, though: my fate must be entwined with all of yours, because there have been just too many coincidences. I feel as though something thrust us together. So why don’t you all tell me what you’ve been up to lately? Anything of divine importance?”

The group exchanged looks. “You don’t know the half of it,” said Fjord, toying nervously with the holy symbol in his hands. “Perhaps we should have dinner, though, and start to catch you up while we eat? Caduceus is quite the cook.”

“I look forward to all the beans in their various forms that he has to offer,” teased Molly.

Caduceus smiled widely. “I like him,” he said, standing from the floor and making his way to the kitchen. “I like him a lot.”

Chapter Text

Reintegrating into the group turned out to be more difficult than Molly had imagined. He felt a little out of place at times, not knowing the same jokes and references that the rest shared. Even the house — a mansion, really — didn’t have a spare bedroom, and when Molly suggested that he stay with Yasha like old times, her eyes flicked immediately to Beau. Well, good for them, Molly guessed. They’d certainly been dancing around each other long enough. He was also getting the sense that Jester had finally caught Fjord as well, but they still kept separate bedrooms. He’d have to wait for one to open up.

Until then, he was more than happy to lay out a bedroll in the so-called ‘happy room,’ and to steal pillows and blankets from the others to make the experience a little nicer. He planned on getting a feather bed with the veritable fortune that Beau had tossed at his head, but that was a low priority compared to catching up with everyone. One of the first things they’d shown him in the tour of the house was a hot tub, and they’d all sat in it telling stories about the past year until they were wrinkled like dried fruit.

So much had happened to the Nein while he was gone. Piracy, cults, magical artifacts with dragons inside, kidnappings, more cults. Molly laughed and snarled where appropriate, and clung to Yasha as the story of her time under Obann’s control was told. He learned that Jester’s god had caught the attention of the Moonweaver and been put in his place, and Jester even seemed genuinely regretful about the whole fiasco.

Not too long after the description of Travelercon, the conversation lulled. At first Molly thought that they had caught up to the current day, but then he caught the guilty look in Beau’s eye. Looking around at the others, they too were averting their gazes. He crossed his arms expectantly. When nobody moved to continue to catch him up, he slapped the tip of his tail on the surface of the water. Several people jumped at the sound.

“Oh come on, out with it. Whatever it is, it can’t be bad enough to sour my view of you after all those tales of heroism.”

Beau grimaced a little, but met his gaze. “Okay dude, but you’ve got to promise not to freak out.”

Molly leaned across the tub with a hand outstretched. “Pinky promise,” he affirmed, offering a digit.

Beau moved her legs away from his. “Personal space, man!” But she did return the gesture, and Molly gave her her space back. She relaxed again, taking a deep breath before beginning the next part of the story.

“So, after the peace accord, a member of the Cerberus Assembly approached us with work. They’re the group of mages that help run the Empire, mostly pretty morally questionable. One of them literally brainwashes kids, but that’s another story.” Molly didn’t miss how Caleb’s arms drew tighter around him when she said that, or how his eyes unfocused. But yes, another time. “The one with work for us was Vess DeRogna, the Archmage of Antiquities. Collector of artifacts of power, that kind of shit. She was the one responsible for studying those dodecahedron things we found that started the whole war with the Dynasty—”

“And for getting my husband kidnapped!” added Veth, who had drawn her feet up out of the water to sit with her arms around her knees, still fully clothed. She tugged at Caleb’s shoulder and he came back to awareness, then exited the tub and began to dress.

“Yeah, and that. We knew she was shady, but she didn’t know that we knew, so we agreed to take the job if only to get close enough to dig up more dirt on her. We met her at her place in Rexxentrum, and that’s when this little spark went off in my head. ‘The spell slinger from the capitol,’ that’s what Cree told us all the way back in Zadash, when she first called you Lucien. Vess fit the description, loosely, so I had a hunch that she was involved with the Tomb Takers, especially since her whole deal is digging up artifacts from, you know, tombs.

“I asked her a few questions about it and she confirmed that she had worked with them, hired them as mercenaries like us, but that they were bad partners or something so she didn’t hire them again. It didn’t seem right and everything was setting off alarm bells in my head, but we went along with it to try to find out more.

“The job she wanted us to do was to escort her to the ruins of Aeor, an ancient floating city that crashed back around the Calamity. Seemed legit, since she’s the Archmage of Antiquities and all. Paid well, too. So we all went and got winter gear and armor upgrades and stuff, and we rushed off to the far north with her. Got accosted on the way there by Fjord’s old girlfriend and some other sea monsters working for his old patron, but we managed to fight them off. Vess seemed impressed. We almost never saw her during the trip, though, even when we got to Balenpost. She always insisted on staying in her own tower — mages can make a magic house thing, Caleb’ll show you one day — even though we were making our own, and it would save her a pretty powerful spell. Wouldn’t let us into hers, either.

“We got to the first dig site and the place had been cleaned out. Specifically there was a room that Caleb says was labeled ‘Threshold Vault’ that had an empty spot where it looks like a huge gem had been set in the ceiling. When we got there she just lost it. Like, I get being mad that someone else beat you to your target, but this was a level of rage I’ve never seen. She didn’t even let us sleep that night, we traveled to the point of exhaustion before finally setting up camp. Once we were safely in our own tower, we started planning.

“Caddy said that he’d detected magic while she had her back turned, and there was illusion magic on her. I had a theory about that, so we decided to do what we had done to Essek back in Nicodranas and have someone stealthily cast True Seeing the next day so we could see what was under that disguise. Thing was, nothing changed when we cast it. At least nothing that we could see. But she definitely had an illusion up the whole time she was with us, and it was pretty suspicious.”

Everyone was slowly filtering out of the tub and getting dressed, now, but nobody was leaving the room. There was a tension in the air as Beau’s retelling moved toward whatever it was that they were worried about Molly’s potential reaction to. Molly stubbornly remained in the water, arms crossed across his chest.

“We got to the next site and found a bunch of Empire people dead. One starved in the entrance, the others killed by this demon baby thing. Don’t ask,” she added when Molly’s face contorted in confusion. “We found another ‘Threshold Vault,’ and inside it there was another exploration team checking out a huge gem on the ceiling. They were from the Dynasty, mixed team of drow and others. Vess didn’t even try to talk to them, just went crazy with rage and lifted the leader off the ground with magic. That’s when the illusion finally dropped and we were able to see what she was hiding.”

All eyes were on Molly, now. This must be it.

“She had nine glowing red eyes tattooed on her body. One here, and here, and here…” Beau started indicating to points on her body, and Molly’s stomach roiled. Back of the hand, palm of the hand, side of the neck, base of the neck… He looked down at his tattoos and the strange eyes expertly hidden among the mundane ink. Some were integrated with the art in a way that made them look like part of the design, as was the case with the snake’s eyes, but the rest were hidden among flower stigmas and peacock feathers. Every location that Beau pointed to mirrored one of the hidden eyes on his own body.

He jumped as Yasha’s hands came down on his shoulders with a gentle pressure, guiding him back to reality. Beau had stopped talking, and everyone seemed to be waiting for his response.

“So she… she was the one who killed Lucien?”

Beau nodded.

“Then I ought to be thanking her, really. Where is she now?”

“She killed all of the Dynasty people, and was raving about how ‘nobody would prevent her from reaching the city.’ We realized she was definitely up to something evil, and we fought her. She’s dead, man. It was a fucking hard fight. She could pick people up with a thought and bombard their brain with some kind of telepathy thing until they died. Plus she was an archmage, so she had a shitload of spells. We lost Veth for a bit, Caleb went down twice, Yasha died.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “Someone else tell the rest; I need a drink.” Beau stood up out of the water and wrapped herself in a towel, stomping up the stairs without dressing.

After a tense moment, Caduceus took over. “I talked to her body after the fight. We asked her questions about the tattoos, what they meant. She called herself a ‘Nonagon,’ which I’m told your old tabaxi friend once called you. She told us that she was trying to restore a city, to ‘free the Somnovem.’” He highlighted the phrase with gestured quotation marks. “We asked what she needed the gems from the Threshold Vaults for and she said that they were part of what she needed to restore the city. So we gathered them up from the bags of the dead Kryn explorers and took them to try to destroy them. Melora warned me that this city was dangerous, unnatural…” He shuddered, shaken just by the thought of it. Molly was reminded of Clarabelle’s response to the vampire and their desecration of nature.

“She seeks absolute power,” Caleb’s soft voice echoed from across the room. He sat fully-clothed near the base of the stairs, fidgeting with a small brass object that rang softly as he spun the pieces. Sensing that bath time was over, Molly rose from the water and began to dry his hair. Caleb averted his gaze even further, moving his eyes from a point over Molly’s shoulder to one across the room.

“Seeks? I thought she was dead.” Molly fluffed at his hair, then tied the towel around his waist so he could start trying to guide his silky shirt over his horns. In the corner, he heard Caleb huff.

“No mage that powerful goes without… contingencies,” the wizard said. “She has probably woken up in Rexxentrum by now, plotting how to track us down and take back all the artifacts we carry.”

“Caleb thinks that she might hire the Tomb Takers again,” added Veth, combing tangles from the wizard’s auburn hair. It had gotten very long, and was in much better condition than the last time Molly remembered seeing it. The scene was incredibly domestic, and Molly wondered how any of them had ever thought that Nott had been a young goblin. Her maternal tendencies radiated in every aspect of how she interacted with Caleb. Learning that she was a mother had just made sense, really.

“They may share the same goals,” Caleb affirmed, nodding gently so as not to disturb Veth’s attentions on his hair. “Though she will have to convince them to join her, given that she killed their old leader.” At that, he looked up from his fidgeting to meet Molly’s eye.

“Well, if she shows up, I’ll be sure to thank her for taking care of Lucien before I gut her,” Molly said, strapping his sword belt around his waist. He offered Caleb a hand and pulled the human to his feet before ascending the staircase, putting blessed distance between him and the eyes scrutinizing his every reaction. It was a lot to take in. He had always known that there was something malevolent about the eye tattoos: it was the reason he had hidden them in ink of his own. Knowing that they tied him to a power that strong and that evil, though… Molly had to focus on keeping his breathing even.

In the hallway outside his room, Caleb caught his elbow. He turned to face the wizard. Without his tall boots on, they were of a height, and the human’s curious blue eyes searched his face. The hand on his arm did not release, but it was not tight either. Molly let it stay there, surprised that Caleb touched anyone other than Veth.

“Mollymauk, you do not need to worry. We are safer here than anywhere else. Though there is peace, the Cerberus Assembly knows better than to appear on Dynasty soil and attack people here. We have also made Essek aware, and he is always a moment away. He is a good friend and a powerful mage, and has the resources of the Dynasty at his fingertips.”

“Thank you Caleb, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” Molly shook his arm free of the wizard’s grasp, looking down sheepishly. “Lately I’ve been remembering more things, from… before. I don’t want anything to do with them, but they keep showing up regardless. This is just another reminder that this body wasn’t always mine. I always knew the person before was into some bad shit: you have to be to end up like he did. But every memory that comes back just gets worse and worse. This thing with the eyes is the worst yet.”

Caleb considered for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. He was a hard man to read beside the aura of generalized anxiety, but that was present almost all of the time. It made it hard to pinpoint exactly what the source of his tics was. He did look like he wanted to speak, so Molly waited for him.

“You remember that I once told you that I believe in second starts, ja?”

“Of course.” How could he forget? That was one of the worst days of his short life, where he was confronted with a past he never wanted to encounter. If he had to rank them, he’d probably put it third after ‘actually dying’ and ‘discovering that I have fucked up blood magic.’

“I don’t think I am the only one who does. Your goddess, She believes in forging one’s own destiny, does She not?” He waited for Molly to nod. “I do not think She would have helped bring you back or given you these gifts if She didn’t believe you were more than the sum of your past.” He pointed at Molly’s swords as he said it, the crescent moon in the crossguard glinting in the light of Caleb’s floating globules of light. “I do not think that those eyes define you. You have done a wonderful job of that on your own.” His hand reached up to the peacock feather curling over Molly’s cheek, but stopped short of actually touching it.

It was what Molly needed to hear, but not whom he expected to hear it from. Metaphorical floodgates opening, he took a shuddering breath and grabbed at Caleb’s hand, closing the short distance to cradle it to the side of his face as hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Caleb’s eyes darted around, looking for aid, and with his free hand he pulled out a length of wire, whispering into it.

“Ah, Yasha, could you please come to the Happy Room?”

Caleb slipped his hand away from Molly’s face and pulled the tiefling into a loose hug around the shoulders, patting his back gently. Yasha appeared within moments, quickly taking over for a very overwhelmed Caleb.

“S-sorry,” Molly hiccuped as the wizard made his escape.

Yasha scooped him up and took him to her room, saving him the fate of having to sleep alone through what would probably be a nightmare-filled sleep. Even his waking mind was already drawing up images of the eyes on his body lighting up, of him losing control to the power-thirsty person who had come before. Yasha knew what to do, having been through this so many times before, and kept him grounded with gentle touches as she reminded him of who he was.

The next day, Molly crept down the stairs before Yasha had awoken, following his nose to the kitchen. A delicious scent was wafting up, something foreign but definitely toasted. He found Beau in the kitchen, pouring a mug of brown liquid from a carafe.

“Whatever that is, give me some,” he said, making grabby hands at the pitcher. Beau slid it across the countertop and pulled another mug off a hook for him. As Molly poured the hot drink for himself, she also grabbed a plate with her free hand. It had a bowl on top like a lid, and was warm from having been sat on top of the woodstove.

“Caduceus made this for you. And be careful with that stuff, it’s hell on an empty stomach.”

“Noted,” he said, taking a sip. A bitter liquid graced his tongue, and he had to restrain a cough. He quickly downed the mouthful, grimacing. “This tastes dreadful. It must do something amazing.”

“Yeah, really gets you going. Don’t have too much.”

Molly gave her a thumbs up as he had another swig, just as awful as the last. It reminded him of his first time trying alcohol, the odd taste and burning sensation not at all seeming worth it until the effects had kicked in. He looked forward to whatever side effects this awful black liquid had to offer.

As he tucked in to to the plate of mushroom scramble, Beau coughed to get his attention. “Sorry for walking out last night, man. It was just a lot for me to relive. We almost didn’t get to Yasha in time.”

“No worries, dear. It was a lot for me too, to be honest. I didn’t stick around much longer myself.”

“I fucking hate it when you call me ‘dear.’”

“Sorry.” Molly filled his mug with water, chasing away the bitter taste of the previous beverage. “So, I take it that you didn’t run down here to see me from the frozen north. What exactly were you all up to when you got the message?”

Beau hopped up on the counter as Caleb entered the kitchen. The wizard poured himself a mug from the carafe — or he tried, but got only dregs. Huffing, he put the kettle on. “Beauregard, it is considered polite to make more coffee when one finishes the pot…”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Blame the new roommate, not me. Anyway, Molly, we were just in Zadash doing research on all the Nonagon stuff. Didn’t find much, to be honest. That shit’s pretty obscure. We were gonna get Zeenoth to put a team on it in Rexxentrum and start looking into something else, but we got called away.”

Molly finished his plate and moved to the sink, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Why not go to Rexxentrum yourself? I trust Caleb to do a better job at that sort of thing than any random person.” By the stove, Caleb folded inwards. Molly could have sworn his ears were a little pink.

“About that… we’re kind of responsible for killing a high-ranking member of the Cerberus Assembly, so we’re trying to lay low. Rexxentrum was her home turf, and where most of the rest of the Assembly is. In Zadash we can keep a low profile. I’ve got a place in the Archive we can crash, and I trust Zeenoth to keep us under wraps.”

“Hmm,” Molly hummed, scrubbing the plate under the tap. The home had running water, a luxury. “I’m not really the best at keeping a low profile, dea—” He dodged a tea towel thrown his way at the endearment. “Sorry! It’s reflexive, really!”

Beau glared at him from her countertop vantage, arms crossed, unconvinced. Molly spread his hands placatingly, then retrieved the towel and began to dry his dishes. “And what was the next project after you passed this one off going to be?”

“Remember that time Fjord woke up coughing up sea water, and the time he absorbed that crystal in that cave? His old patron is one hell of a scary thing, and it’s gaining influence. It’s pretty close to breaking free, too. We’ve been putting off dealing with it for a while, but after the incident on the way to Balenpost we can’t really afford to wait anymore. Once everyone’s up today I think we’re gonna go back.”

“I’ll get packing, then.” It made sense to carry everything with him, because with this group you never knew when you were going to take off for adventure without any notice. He returned to ‘his’ room to roll up his bedding and slip into his armor, packing up his few other belongings and bringing his bag down to the sitting room. It wasn’t long before the others were ready as well, some scarfing down toasted bread as Caleb started the process of drawing an elaborate chalk circle on the floor.

The trip via teleportation circle to Zadash was not nearly as fun as Molly had expected. While transporting via plants had been as simple as stepping through a transition, the arcane means of transportation was more like being slingshotted across the planes. The breath was punched from his lungs the moment he stepped across the chalk sigil, and when he landed on the other side it took more than a minute for Molly’s body to figure out which way was up. He managed to keep his breakfast, but just barely.

The Valley Archive of the Cobalt Soul was an enormous building. Molly didn’t think he’d seen so many books in his entire life, let alone in one place. He spun in the atrium, taking in the multitude of gentle sounds and sights. Echoes from feet tapping at the marble floors surrounded him, mixed with rustling papers. Somewhere from deep below he thought he could hear the impact of wood on wood. Beau and Caleb took the lead, looking right at home in the vast library.

Beau had donned a sash of blue-grey fabric that was similar to that of the workers here, but a different colour. Molly supposed it distinguished her position somehow, though he wasn’t familiar with the workings of the organization. Back in Molaesmyr, Archivist Julian had called her ‘Expositor,’ but Molly couldn’t tell from the name alone what that position was supposed to be. Beau seemed to just be doing what she felt like as far as he could tell.

The group moved decisively to the door of an office near the top of the building. Workers in Cobalt Soul garb moved out of their way as the group passed, stopping to watch them go. In some cases, Molly caught a glimpse of a look of reverence or a whisper between archivists over his shoulder. It seemed that the group’s — or perhaps Beau’s — reputation preceded them.

The office door was ajar when they arrived, and Beau entered with barely so much as a knock. Molly slunk in after her, as did Caleb, though most of the rest waited outside the small room. A stressed-looking elf with long blond curls looked up from a report on their desk as they entered.

“Ah, Expositor Beauregard. Welcome back. How may I assist you today?”

Beau slapped a bundle of parchment to the surface of the desk, causing a gust that displaced a few of the existing papers there. The elf jumped to gather them before they slipped to the floor.

“My report on Aeor. Ran into some interesting shit up there. Thought you might like to see it before anyone else.”

The elf peeked at the second page, eyes widening when they saw the diagrams there. They dropped the cover page and let the booklet fall closed, steeling their expression into one of neutral interest. Looking up from the pages they made eye contact with Molly, tilting their head with curiosity.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Beau slapped a hand to her forehead. “Right, sorry. Molly, this is Archivist Zeenoth. He helps us with research. Zeenoth, this is Molly.” Zeenoth’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly for a moment at Molly’s name, but Molly couldn’t detect the emotion behind it. Pretending he didn’t notice, he put on a showman’s smile and approached with a hand outstretched, determined to make a good first impression.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. A pleasure to meet you.” They shook hands, Zeenoth’s delicate fingers providing a deceptively strong grip.

“A pleasure,” echoed Zeenoth with a grim smile. Turning to Beau, his tone changed. “I take it you didn’t come all this way just to deliver a report. May I assist you in anything?”

Beau laughed softly. “Yeah, you caught me. We need some info on a demigod, sea snake thing called Uk’otoa. I think we looked into it here before, but we need more info. It’s been trying to break out of its prison and seems to have gotten a lot of followers working for it lately.”

“Very well.” Zeenoth led them to a section of the library with many titles in Celestial, Infernal, and Abyssal, grabbing a few other archivists along the way. In short order there was a small mountain of titles on a large work table in a variety of languages, some open to specific pages. The group started dividing the books among people based on who spoke which language. Caleb took the titles in Celestial, to Molly’s surprise; the Infernal tomes were divided between him and Jester, and Caleb cast a spell on Beau, who took the Abyssal books for herself and Yasha. A few were in Common, but they had newer bindings and Zeenoth mostly waved them aside. Fjord grabbed one and leaned back in his chair.

It was tough going. Molly’s head began to hurt after less than an hour of slowly sounding out the Infernal script before him. He wasn’t even sure why he knew how to read it at all, as he had no memory of anyone ever teaching him. The pace of his reading began to pick up quickly, though, as he cast the dust off the part of his brain that was home to the long-disused skill. Around him, the others read at varying speeds, taking notes and occasionally reading out loud for the benefit of all. Beau was the fastest reader of the group, surprisingly, outpacing even Caleb. She flipped through pages quickly, seeming to find key passages with ease. Her pile dwindled, and when Zeenoth approached with a book in Deep Speech she volunteered to take it as well.

Information on Uk’otoa was scarce in the Infernal texts, mostly there as an aside. The main subject of these books seemed to be another entity bound in a similar fashion: a huge bird with plumage of hellfire, the mount of Asmodeus during the Calamity. Unable to be killed without many sacrifices from the Prime Deities, the entity was captured and bound beneath the earth. One book named her as Desirat, the Twilight Phoenix. Also mentioned were two others, creations of Torog and Zehir, bound in similar ways. Unable to take one more minute of reading, Molly set his third and final book aside and leaned over to drape himself across Jester, whose attention was also waning.

“What’d you find, dear? More about this phoenix?”

Jester nodded and leaned her head to gently bump horns with him. “Yep.” The word popped from her mouth with a sense of finality, and she closed her book with a smack. “Big fire bird that someone slapped out of the sky and buried under the ground somewhere. My book said they needed a whole mountain to keep it under, and that it’s still awake under there and its anger makes fire come out of the ground sometimes. Next to nothing about Uk’otoa, though. Sorry, Fjord.” She took Fjord’s hand, as he nodded off into a book in Common. He jerked awake at the touch.

“Yes, yes, I’m listening.” He rubbed at his eyes.

Others were dropping their own books now, mental exhaustion clearly setting in. Beau was still the sharpest of them all, but after finishing a note she also closed her Deep Speech tome and set it aside.

“So, what’ve we got?” she asked, putting on an air of authority. Her pen was poised over a page, ready to consolidate notes on everything they’d read. “Anyone get anything new on Uk’otoa?” She was met with a chorus of noes and head shakes.

“Just me, then. Well, the bastard was sealed away by people, not by gods, so I think we’ve got a chance. Some cult from Marquet corrupted his temples and sealed him away. Based on the description, I think it’s the two we’ve already visited, plus one on land on the coast somewhere. It didn’t really say how they did it besides the whole ‘corrupting his temples’ thing, but if they can figure it out, so can we.”

Caleb looked up from behind the pages of a book bound in blue leather. “I found nothing about Uk’otoa in particular, but I did find some descriptions of rituals used to seal things away which may prove helpful.” He pushed some handwritten notes towards Beau, and she slid them into her notebook.

“So what else did we get? Anything good in Infernal?”

Jester and Molly looked at each other and shrugged. “Nothing about your sea snake,” Molly said, “but plenty about something similar. It sounds like Zehir wasn’t the only one to make a big beast.”

“Yeah, Asmodeus had this huge flaming bird that he rode in battle that had to get sealed away after the Calamity, too. Some people put it under a mountain and it’s trapped there and makes fire come out of the ground or something.” Jester toyed with a pen, absently doodling in the margins of her notes.

Beau scribbled unintelligible marks in her notebook. “That tracks with what we saw in one of Uk’otoa’s temples. Remember the mosaic with the three things with three eyes?” The others nodded, but Molly could only shrug, lacking as he was in the shared experience. He often felt left out on things like this since coming back, and he hated the constant reminder of his absence.

Beau flipped through dozens of pages in her thick notebook before finding the one she wanted, turning it towards them. The page bore a sketch of three monstrosities with three eyes each, as she described, as well as three humanoid figures around each. One was certainly bird-shaped, while the other two coiled like snakes.

Molly pointed at the bird. “So that’s Desirat, I suppose? And one of these is Uk’otoa? So, what’s the last one?”

Beau tapped the cover of the Deep Speech tome she’d been reading before the discussion began. “I think I found that, too. Quajath, a giant toothy worm that Torog made as a scout during the Calamity. Only this one wasn’t sealed away; it was struck down during the Calamity and presumed dead. The corpse, funnily enough, was left in Eiselcross, where we just came from.”

Sensing that the study session was over, the monks began gathering up the scattered books and returning them to their respective shelves. Molly looked out a window to see the sun low in the sky, and suddenly he became aware of his grumbling stomach. As if thinking the same thing, Veth suggested that they take the conversation somewhere with food and the group departed, thanking Zeenoth for his help on the way out.

“So, where does one go to talk strategy these days? The Leaky Tap, or are we flush enough to splurge on the Pillow Trove? I feel like we’re dressed nicely enough to get into the Tri-Spires these days.” Molly looked over Caleb’s clothes. No longer threadbare and dirty, the wizard was now dressed in simple but elegant cuts of fabric in deep purples and greys that brought out the copper in his hair. Eyes trailing up the patterned scarf to the man’s neck, Molly was caught staring. Never shy in his affections, he gave Caleb a sly smile, causing the man to look away and dart behind Beau.

“Caleb’s going to make us a place. He’s gotten very powerful while you were away. Just wait until you see it.” Veth patted Caleb’s arm, and for a split second Molly could have sworn that he saw green-tinged skin out of the corner of his eye. Even after spending a few days around her, he was still getting used to hearing the voice that his memory associated with a prickly goblin coming from a soft halfling body. It was just another thing to get used to, like Fjord’s accent.

Beau led them to a suite in a wing of the Archive that was sparsely furnished but comfortable. Molly protested when they started going straight up to the rooms without eating, but Yasha pulled him along, promising that the food would be better where they were going. Molly was skeptical, but piled into the suite with the rest of them.

It was cramped with eight people in one apartment, but they all clung to the sides of the room to give Caleb the space he needed to work in the middle. The human set out a wand and a few pieces of what looked like junk to Molly, but a minute of arcane words and gestures later they were faced with a doorway that opened to a grand foyer. Caleb stood by the door and held out an arm, indicating to the others to enter. They exited Beau’s suite as if this was routine, leaving Molly alone to gape at the huge antechamber that had just been conjured in front of his eyes.

Chapter Text

Molly was the last to enter, buzzing with anticipation. He wanted to savour the moment, knowing that he was about to see something beyond his imagination. These were the moments that he missed from the early times of his life: the feeling of whimsy and awe at trying something new. Sure, he still got them from time to time, but not with as much frequency. He often wished that he could relive the experience of walking into a fancy hot springs bath for the first time, or that of his first romp. The first time doing anything was always the most vivid, hyper-realistic experience, and he had learned to treasure those moments when he got them.

He took a deep breath before he stepped through the shimmering portal, shivering as he passed the threshold and hum of Caleb’s magic washed over him. He noticed that it felt different than stepping through Reani’s portal, more like the buzz of electricity than the rush of warm water that hers had been. He relished in the head-to-toe tingle, every nerve coming alive.

The sight of the inside of Caleb’s pocket home did not disappoint. Beautiful stained glass windows adorned the walls, scattering light in rainbow-coloured beams in every direction. The imagery was meaningless to Molly, but obviously carefully chosen. He admired the closest one as he ascended the staircase to the next floor.

Yasha was waiting for him there, near the center of the room. He could see a vast tower above them, at least half a dozen floors that he could see, but no visible staircases. Padding to Yasha’s side, he looked around for a way up.

“Come on, you’d better hold on to me. I’ll show you to the dining room.”

Confused, Molly took hold of Yasha’s upper arm. She pulled them both into the middle of the chamber, where Molly could see open space that went up to a dizzyingly high ceiling.

“Just think ‘up,’” she told him, and before he had time to process the statement they were rising, and he scrambled to hold on for dear life as the floor fell away. Embarrassingly, he may have yelped a little in shock. Fear quickly gave way to elation, however, as the feeling of weightlessness overtook him. Still holding tight to her bicep with one hand, he spread out the rest of his limbs and tested the way that it felt to move without gravity. He thought about spinning and the both of them began to spin slowly in the air as they rose, like a kind of dance. Molly couldn’t help but laugh and smile with glee at the experience, and he whined a little when Yasha said a command word and a floor slid in place underneath their feet one storey up.

Landing on his feet again knocked Molly off balance briefly and he lashed his tail to counterbalance himself, righting himself without too much issue. Yasha smiled at his antics and started toward an open door, through which the noises of a bustling kitchen could be heard. Caduceus watched them from the door frame, smiling brightly at them with the same genial semblance that he always seemed to embody. As Molly entered behind Yasha, the firbolg spoke to him in a quiet tone, voice low enough for Molly alone to hear.

“It’s really great to have you around. They’re all so much happier with you here. Not just because they missed you, but because you have this genuine joy about you. You remind people to enjoy the small things in life, I think. It makes sense that She chose you.” He placed a broad hand on Molly’s shoulder and smiled again, then turned away and joined the others at a table before Molly could respond. A strange one, for sure, but his words were kind. Molly blushed a little at the thought that he could make people happy just by being his self around them, and followed after the cleric with quick steps.

The dining room contained a banquet table large enough for all of the Nein and more, with a variety chairs ranging from large enough for firbolgs to tall enough for halflings to sit at a reasonable height, the latter having spindles between the legs to act as a stepladder. Molly took a moment to take in the ambiance of the room before selecting a medium-sized chair for himself.

“So, what’s for dinner? I was promised a fine dining experience.” Looking down the table, a few people were already eating. Beau unsurprisingly had a side plate of nothing but bacon to go with her meal.

“Of course, Mollymauk. You can have whatever you heart desires here. What would you like to eat?” Caleb was oddly in his element here, standing confidently at the head of the table.

Molly considered his options. There was a time where he wouldn’t have claimed to have had a favourite food, as he enjoyed nearly anything and was used to hearty stews shared with many people. The month spent with the team in Molaesmyr had spoiled him, though, and he found his mouth watering as he thought through some of the things he and Clarabelle had shared in the past weeks. He described a rich stew that she had made for him with peas and that odd white bean curd that was a staple of her diet, simmered in a wealth of spices and served over rice. Caduceus nodded knowingly as he described it.

Caleb nodded along, then looked down at the floor to his side. “Alright, Gretchen, did you get all that?”

Molly raised a brow in confusion, then both brows made a break for his hairline as a small mrrp responded and a semi-transparent cat padded into view from behind the table before disappearing through a small hole in the wall at floor level.

Beau’s voice cut into his consciousness through the swirling confusion. “Alright, so what’s the plan here?” The idle chatter dissipated and all eyes turned to Fjord, who straightened in his chair.

“Well, we ought to attempt to seal those temples, I suppose. I can’t live knowing that an evil demigod is one gem away from being unleashed upon all of Exandria and that it’s my fault. He won’t stop until he’s free.” Ever a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve, his guilt was plain to see. Molly felt bad for the man; from the stories he’d heard, it had sounded like Fjord hadn’t made the pact willingly.

Veth’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “Where is that thing, anyway? If we’re going back to those temples — which I am totally against by the way, I’ve had enough damned water for one lifetime — we probably shouldn’t bring it with us. But we also can’t just leave it somewhere undefended.”

Fjord looked to Beau and Caleb, who were seated next to each other at one end of the long table. Caleb spoke up.

“We, uh, left it with Essek. Perhaps we should have asked, but I trust that he will not go about giving it to anyone, and he is much farther from the sea than any of our other allies. I do not trust to leave it in Nicodranas with Yussa, even if he keeps it in a demiplane. After the last time we were near the water, I thought it safest to leave it behind.”

Fjord nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Thank you for taking care of it for me, Caleb. So, should we head to Nicodranas in the morning and attempt to meet up with Orly? Jester says that our crew is currently there, just finishing a job.”

“We should resupply first,” Caduceus chimed in. “Now that we know what we’re going up against in those temples, we should make sure to prepare things to make this as safe as possible for us. Water breathing, of course, but I’d like something to help us all move more easily in the water. That really crippled us last time.” This was met with knowing, somber nods from a few in the group.

“So, Pumat’s first thing tomorrow, then to Nicodranas?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Molly brightened at the mention of Pumat’s shop. The place was just delightful in general, but he felt as if he hadn’t been there for a lifetime. And now that he’d met other firbolgs, he was intensely curious about whether or not the man had a tail.

It was about this moment that a cat entered the room from the hole in the wall, carrying a platter upon its tail. Molly watched with awe as it nimbly climbed up to the table’s surface from a ramp hidden from view at this angle, then padded along to place the dish in front of him. It bore a bowl of stew with white cubes and green peas that smelled exactly like he remembered, as well as fluffy white rice and flatbreads. The cat stalked away before he could say thank you, so Molly tucked in.

The food was delicious, and kept coming throughout the night as the others made orders. They talked strategy all the while, deciding which of the two temples to tackle first and discussing what they thought they would find there. There was speculation about the kind of ritual required to reseal the temples, and the clerics suggested that they stock up on certain materials that might be required. Caleb theorized about how incense could be burned underwater, since it was a common component for rituals.

Eventually, nobody could eat another bite and yawns were beginning to echo around the room.

“Shall we retire?” Molly suggested, looking back to the atrium for a sign of other rooms.

“Ja,” Caleb replied. “Let me show you your rooms.”

Rooms, plural. Molly liked the sound of that. Leaving the dishes for the cats, the group moved back into the atrium. Stepping onto the central platform, Molly braced himself to float on his own for the first time. Up, he thought, and his boots lifted off the floor. With a whoop, he grabbed his knees and did a small front flip. Several people laughed below him, and he beamed and twirled in place as they reached the next floor. The floor again closed below them and Molly found his footing no more gracefully than the first time, having to reach out to Caduceus for support.

This floor had three doors, each marked with a symbol. The beetle on the one immediately in front of him reminded Molly of the handkerchief in his pocket, the parting gift from Clarabelle. Given the silbling’s similarities, he figured it must belong to Caduceus. Behind and to his right was a door with a crescent moon, and Caleb led the way to it and pushed the door open.

The room was a veritable cacophony of colour, overpowered by a stained glass window that depicted a stylized sun and moon over a field of flowers with a serpent weaving through. Molly gasped at the detail of it: a near-perfect rendition of elements of his tattoos. The thought that Caleb had memorized his body from the one time they’d shared a bath set him grinning salaciously.

The rest of the décor was no less beautiful, nor any less suited to Molly’s tastes. Intricate Marquesian rugs overlapped on the floor, held in place by plush chaises longues and a clawfoot table with a silver platter of fruit. A perfect replica of the tapestry he had purchased at the harvest festival in Zadash hung on the wall, and Molly was flooded briefly with memories of that day.

Caleb hurried through to the door of the next room, but watched Molly’s reactions closely. Once he had adequately taken in the first room, Molly followed to the second. He knew that he would likely still be finding details even if he spent hours here, but there was time for that later. First he had to finish the tour.

Stepping into the next room felt like stepping into a circus tent, with canvas in rich colours draping across most of the ceiling and walls. Against one of the fabric walls sat a desk with paints, inks, and dozens of spools of thread, the tools of Molly’s crafts. As Molly moved into the room, he caught a glimpse through the front flap of the tent, which opened onto what looked like a rolling meadow cast in moonlight. The grass seemed to sway in an intangible wind, and the stars twinkled gently. Molly gasped as he saw it, and he moved toward the tent’s opening to admire it.

Caleb caught his elbow before he could step outside. “Be careful, Mollymauk. It is only an illusion.” To demonstrate, he took Molly’s hand and slowly moved it forward until it met something solid. The moment was intimate, and had a dreamlike quality to it. The spell broke when someone commented from the previous room about ‘that fucking tapestry,’ and Caleb pulled away quickly.

Hidden in the drape of the tent fabric next to the desk was another doorway, and Caleb lead Molly through it to reveal a bedroom with a steaming golden bathtub. This room was simple compared to the last two, but was still decorated with rich fabrics and colours. Molly ran his hands over the velvets and silks, taking in the texture.

“If anything is not to your liking, I can change it next time I cast the spell,” Caleb mumbled from near the door. The tent fabric from the previous room prevented him from seeing through to where the others were.

Dropping the velvet curtain to its original position at the corner of the four poster bed, Molly moved up beside him and gave him a meaningful look. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb’s face flushed pink, and Molly took a calculated risk. Slowly leaning in to Caleb’s space, giving him plenty of time to pull away, he planted a kiss to the top of Caleb’s head. The wizard’s breath hitched, and when Molly pulled away he seemed frozen in place, eyes wide and fixed on Molly. The flush deepened. Molly was about to lean in again when Jester’s voice called from the previous room.

“Wow, Caleb! This is amazing! It looks so real— ow…” There was a dull thud as Jester presumably tried to exit the tent into the illusory field, meeting the wall behind the façade face first. Caleb’s eyes flicked between Molly and the doorway and back again, then he darted through the flap. Molly sighed softly, cursing the lack of privacy.

He dipped a finger in the bath and couldn’t hold back a soft ‘oh’ as he took the temperature. The water was hot — scalding, almost — something he rarely got to experience in a bath. Public bathhouses were designed to be comfortable for all, which left them feeling lukewarm for the infernal-blooded. Molly was struck by just how much attention Caleb had paid to his preferences. Looking back at the tent fabric hanging across the door, he called out so the people in the previous room could hear.

“Come in at your own risk, I’m getting naked!”

“Fuckin’ gross, man,” Beau called back, and he heard Jester giggle. The sounds of activity moved away and Molly heard the door close with a soft click. Satisfied that he was alone for the night, Molly stripped off his clothes and settled into the scalding water. The heat seeped into his bones immediately, and he groaned with relief. He could get used to living like this.

Caleb avoided Molly the next morning, opting to eat in his chambers and only come out once everyone was ready to go. Molly tried to catch his eye, but the wizard was practiced at avoiding it. Molly’s confidence faltered at the change, wondering if he’d misread the situation the night before and set Caleb back a year in his opening up in the process. The man was almost back to how he’d been when they first met. Molly dwelled on it all the way to the Pentamarket.

“Oh hello there,” called a familiar voice from the back room as they entered the Invulnerable Vagrant. “We’ll be with you in just a second.” Pumat Sol’s accent was as strange as ever. The shop was still beautiful, the hardwood display tables and shelves well-stocked now that wartime was over. Molly’s eyes scanned over the wares, taking in the variety of shields, amulets, rings, and other goods. The potion case behind the counter was brimming with bottles and vials of all sizes and colours. The enchanter had certainly been busy.

Veth stepped up on a rail at the counter that allowed her to stand tall enough to see over and started squinting at the labels on the potions. The green curtain separating the front room from the back parted and two Pumats entered, wiping their hands on their aprons in strange unison.

“Well if it isn’t my best customers! Glad to see you made it back okay from that trip up north with the Archmage of Antiquities. How can we help you today?” From near the door, not immediately in Pumat’s line of sight, Yasha cringed when Vess DeRogna was mentioned. At least this meant that her death was not yet widely known. Molly didn’t think that Pumat was a good enough actor to hide if he was stalling to give the Cerberus Assembly time to come arrest the group. Still, it seemed like some others in the group had forgotten that this would come up. Beau kept a straight face but her hands balled behind the counter, and Jester’s tail froze mid-swish.

Fjord stepped in quickly to divert attention from the topic. “We’re going to be undertaking another exploration in harsh conditions, this time under water. We were hoping that you might have something that could help us with that?”

“Of course,” said one of the Pumats, already opening the potion case. The other walked out to the ring case and unlocked it with a tiny key, retrieving one of the simpler bands. “We’ve got some Potions of Water Breathing here, which if you don’t mind my saying so are absolutely essential to any kind of underwater travel.”

“Ah, I believe we have that covered, actually. As nice as your potions likely are, I can get everyone with one spell.” Fjord toyed with the loose tail of his belt. “To be more specific, last time we were in the water, we had some trouble moving about. I’ve still got this lovely breastplate that you transferred the enchantment on, but the rest of my friends struggle to keep up.”

The second Pumat returned with the ring, placing it on the counter as his counterpart started returning the vials to their shelf. “Not a problem,” he placated. “That’s a common utility spell for adventurers such as your esteemed selves to be in possession of. Perhaps we can interest you in a Ring of Swimming? It’s nothing fancy, but it let you move through the water pretty darn quick.”

“How much? We’ll take it.”

Pumat looked pensive. “For you all? 1800 gold pieces.” The price left Molly feeling like the air had been punched out of his lungs until he remembered that the group was flush with platinum. It was odd to go from rags to riches so quickly. Fjord paid immediately, then asked about healing potions.

Everyone else moved to pay in for healing potions, so Molly did as well. When he stepped out from behind Yasha with his coinpurse open, Pumat startled.

“Why hello again! There’s a face we haven’t seen in a long time.”

Molly wondered if the others had told Pumat he had died. The thought made him grin mischievously, and he replied with a cryptic, “yes, I’ve been away for too long,” as he counted out his share of the cost of the potions. A rather large one was thrust into his possession for his trouble.

“Speaking of my face, it does seem that it’s rather memorable, and that hasn’t exactly worked out in my favour at times. Most of my friends can do these brilliant magical disguises, but I’m left trying to cover myself with makeup. Now, I may be an artist, but not even I can do anything about these.” He rapped his knuckles against a horn. “You wouldn’t happen to have something for that, would you?”

“I know just what you mean, my friend. I’m somewhat of a recognizable person myself. We don’t have anything like that in stock, but I might be able to convince Prime to let go of something less, uh, off-the-rack. One minute, there.” The Pumat strode into the back room, and the low din of work sounds paused, replaced by muffled conversation. While they waited, Jester and Caduceus made a list of supplies and handed it to the final Pumat in the room. He put on a pair of tiny reading glasses to squint at the paper, eyes going wide.

“That’s a lot of components, friends. We’ll give you what we can, but please understand that, respectfully, Prime needs to keep some for his own uses.”

“That’s okay!” Jester replied cheerfully. “We’re going to be traveling, we can pick up more later.”

“Alrighty, little lady. I’ll start pulling that from the back, and let you know how much it’ll cost once we find out how much we have. Wait right here.” He passed into the back room right as his partner returned, clutching a lump of green cloth.

“Alrighty, friend. Pumat Prime has given me the go-ahead to sell this here Hat of Disguise to you for a mere two thousand gold pieces. It’s our personal one, but we’ve got other tricks, so for a member of the Mighty Nein we’re willing to part with it.” He placed the article on the counter, revealing a hat that was very much not Molly’s style.

“May I?” Molly asked, hand hovering above the garment. Pumat gave a nod, so Molly picked it up and inspected it, noting the runes embroidered along a ring in the lining. It was a poor fit, overlarge and not designed for horns, but Molly was able to make it stay on his head. He looked at his reflection in one of the shop’s mirrors, cringing a little at how the color clashed with his skin and eyes.

He turned back to Pumat, pulling the hat a little more securely under his horns. “If I wanted to alter this a bit, would it be possible without ruining the enchantment?”

“Absolutely, you’d just need to keep the band on the inside intact. And you can always change its appearance with the enchantment itself.”

“And how do I use it? Just think really hard?”

Pumat chuckled. “That’s about right, yup. Just picture what you want to look like, and the hat will do the rest.”

Molly looked at Jester, then focused for a moment. He imagined himself, but with blue skin like her. When she began to squeal, he looked down at his hands. Blue, and tattooless. He grinned. Glancing in the mirror gave him a fright, the eyes looking back not his own. The fact that they had pupils that moved as he looked around was a bit uncanny, if he was being honest. He looked away, opening his coinpurse once more.

“Molly, you have to get that! I want to be twins all the time.” Jester slipped next to him, admiring their faces side by side in the mirror as he counted out coins. He got to just over one hundred platinum before running out, and he knew there wasn’t near enough gold to make up the difference. Seeing him languishing, Jester whipped a hand into her haversack and started pulling out coins. Yasha held her purse out as well.

“Woah, now,” Molly protested, but it was too late. The coins were intermingled, and Pumat was already scooping them off the counter into a chest.

“Thank you for your patronage,” the firbolg said, smiling broadly. The other Pumat came back with an armload of incense and Caduceus paid for it as Fjord stowed it away. Jester was too busy preening over how pretty she and Molly were together to notice.

“Molly, did you know that when we were in the City of Beasts that we had to turn Caleb and Beau into tieflings so they wouldn’t get beat up? Caleb made himself look like my twin too, but he actually turned Beau into a boy tiefling with a polymorph spell. She was red like my mama—” Jester looked around conspiratorially, then leaned in close. “Except for her dick, which was purple. I checked. You know what that means!” The last syllable was drawn out, and she made a salacious face at him as she pulled back, wiggling in place.

It took Molly a moment to understand what she meant, but when he did he shot a grin at Caleb. The wizard was looking into one of the glass display cases, and he gave Molly a questioning look when he noticed he was being watched. Molly just grinned wider and turned back to Jester, who waggled her eyebrows. It seemed that Caleb had remembered more than just Molly’s tattoos from that shared bath.

“Glad to hear I made an impression,” he teased as she dragged him toward the door. The rest of the group followed, stepping into an alleyway. Caleb looked at Molly and Jester with suspicion as he passed them, but ultimately shook his head and started chalking lines on the ground to prepare for transport. It only took a minute for him to complete the circle, confidently tracing out sigils and lines with precision. When the lines flared with soft white light, he waved everyone through.

They arrived in a grand tower with a layout that made no logical sense, having to be lead out by a goblin butler. Caleb and Beau insisted that they stay to update the owner of the tower on recent happenings while the rest went off to finish preparing for the journey, promising to meet at Jester’s mother’s place later. The shopping group went off in search of spell components that they had bought out the supply of in Zadash. It was a curious repeat of one of Molly’s recent experiences, loading up boxes upon boxes of herbs, incense, and oils. Luckily they didn’t have to carry it all this time, as the Nein had picked up a magical bag that could carry many hundreds of pound of cargo somewhere in their travels.

Jester’s mother’s place turned out to be a lounge, or a hotel of some sort. The older Lavorre was a beautiful red-skinned tiefling who bestowed compliments on absolutely everyone, and Molly was immediately charmed. Jester apologized over and over that they couldn’t stay longer, but Marion seemed content that she had any time at all with her daughter. Around lunch time, just before Caleb and Beau joined them, two halflings arrived at the Château and there was a tender reunion between Veth and her husband and child. Yeza was obviously overwhelmed by everything, not expecting a crowd at his lunch appointment that day, but Molly thought he was a lovely man. Luc, on the other hand, was a terror who definitely took after his mother. Molly taught the child sleight of hand tricks until the last of the party had arrived and it was time to go.

Making their way down to the docks, Molly caught his first glimpse of the ocean. Though it was winter, the weather on this southern stretch of the coast was mild and the waves glinted with a golden light from the sun hanging low over the surface of the water. It was an enrapturing sight: he had expected it to be big, but this was almost unfathomable. Endless. He tripped over his own feet as he stared while walking, catching himself thanks only to a quick hand from Beau.

The docks were buzzing with activity, but they found their boat quickly. Molly keeled over with laughter when Jester told him about how it was a replacement for a boat they’d dubbed the “Ball Eater” after the bout of piracy they’d previously told him about.

“Only you could convince an entire crew to go along with a name like that, darling.” Given how Fjord’s face contorted every time the old ship’s name was said aloud, it had been a close thing. Molly wondered why he had even allowed it in the first place, given his delicate sensibilities, but imagined that Jester’s elation had swayed him.

Up near the bowsprit, Fjord and the navigator pored over a map, discussing the site of the temple they intended to visit first. Molly was immediately interested in the man: not because of his unusual race, but because of the beautiful tattoos that covered his body. After setting sail, Orly was more than willing to have a long conversation — and oh, when Orly had a conversation, it was long — about their respective ink. Molly was delighted at the prospect of getting a tattoo possibly even more ostentatious than the ones he already had. He had seen how Yasha’s sparkled in the light, and he knew that one day he absolutely had to have his own.

Then it came out that Beau had a tattoo of her own, and he just had to see that. She fought him over it for part of the evening, dodging questions about the piece.

“What, is it on your arse? Why won’t you show me? It’s not like it can be bad; I’ve seen the man’s other work. He’s a damned artist.” Molly crossed his arms, looking at her intensely.

Beau’s face hardened, then she rubbed the back of her neck and looked sheepish. “Look, man, it’s kind of embarrassing, okay?”

“Regretting your choice of design, then? An ex’s name, perhaps?” He grinned, remembering her demeanor whenever Reani’s name came up.

“Regret… isn’t the right word. It’s meaningful. If I show you, you have to promise not to laugh, or give me shit. Can you handle that, obnoxious one?” Something about her intensity moved him. She was right, it probably wasn’t right to make fun of something permanent on someone’s body. He relented.

“Alright, alright. I understand. I promise.”

Beau gave him an intense appraisal before forcing him to pinky swear it, then began removing her coat. When the fabric slid away to reveal the imagery, Molly’s breath hitched. The scrollwork across her shoulders was beautiful, and familiar: reminiscent of his original tarot card deck. When she lifted her hair it revealed an image that he didn’t get to see often but knew was there all the same: a mirror image of the all-seeing eye tattoo on the back of his own neck.

He seized her in a hug from behind, and she yelped at the sudden contact. Clutching her shirt to her chest, she scrambled out of his arms, yelling about personal space. Molly apologized and turned his back while she put the garment back on, covering the beautiful jade design on her upper back.

Tears formed in the corners of Molly’s eyes. “You know what I was always afraid of? That I would disappear or something, and nobody would remember me. That Lucien would come back and erase me, and nobody would care. It means a lot, that you cared enough to get a tattoo for me.”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Nobody could forget you, Molly. You make an impression, you know? We all missed you for fucking sure. Have you seen Caleb’s tower? Half the windows in the library are based on you. We named our fucking hot tub after you!”

“Well, it’s a beautiful tattoo, and I’m sorry you’re embarrassed about it now that I’m back.”

Beau sighed. “It’s not that, man. I just didn’t know how you were gonna take it. You’re not exactly tender, at least with me. I didn’t want to get laughed at for something that meant so much to me.” Shuddering in the chill of the evening air, she slid back into her fur-lined jacket.

Molly felt a rush of guilt. “Sorry I pestered you about it.”

“It’s fine. I was kind of a bitch about it, too. Something else has been getting to me.” Beau crossed her arms in a way that seemed more self-soothing than defensive, and slid with her back against the wall down into a seated position. “When we were in Zadash, I heard some news about Kamordah. That’s where I grew up,” she added when she saw his confusion. “There was another mudslide. Worst in recorded history. A huge piece of the hillside came down and most of the valley was flooded. I don’t know if my family is okay.” Her head leaned back, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

That was exceedingly relatable. Molly had stressed about the well-being of the Nein for weeks before finding them, often to the point of putting him off food. He knew how much the stress could affect someone.

“How can I help?”

Beau withdrew a flask from a pocket and took a long swig. “Distract me, I guess? And don’t fucking touch me,” she added as he took a step towards her. Molly rolled his eyes, taking a seat against the wall next to her, holding his hand out expectantly for the flask. She passed it to him and he took a sip, coughing immediately at the horrific taste. Beau brightened, laughing at his expense.

Molly capped the flask and handed it back, for the first time faced with an alcohol with a taste that was actually foul enough to make him take a pass on its effects. Slipping into his storytelling persona, he cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat.

“So, want to hear about the time I killed a vampire?”

Chapter Text

Molly loved the sea. He loved the way the water reflected the moon at night or was painted in gold, red, and purple when the sun set on the horizon. He loved the salty spray across the bow, the whip of the wind, and even the burn of the sun, intensified by the reflection of the water. He spent most of his time above decks, slowly building a fuchsia flush on his exposed skin. The first day he climbed the rigging up to the crow’s nest Veth screeched at him about breaking his neck, but Molly was used to climbing ropes and poles from his time in the carnival. Trapeze was one of his many performing talents. He learned the ropes — literally — from the crew, and helped them tack when the winds shifted.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much privacy on the open ocean. A crew member named Marius had taken a fancy to Molly the moment they met, and Molly spent a fair amount of time dodging the man and pretending to be busy. While normally Molly would have been flattered by the attention, he just wasn’t in the right headspace for it. After witnessing a particularly embarrassing encounter, Fjord sent Marius running with a few quips. Molly thanked him for it, because his only other idea had been to blind the man with blood magic as he’d done with persistent men in the past. Thinking under pressure was not his forté.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the first temple. With Fjord, Jester, and Caduceus all repeatedly casting a spell to control the seas, the ship sped along regardless of the winds. They came upon an archipelago of islands and stopped there, telling Orly to run at the first sign of trouble. The group had their own means of escape, after all.

Everyone but Molly had been to this place before, so they described the interior for him and warned him of the kinds of creatures that Uk’otoa seemed to have under his thrall. As Jester was describing the so-called “fish wizards,” a hand tapped Molly gently on the back and he felt a small rush of magical energy flow through him.

“Just a death ward, nothing to worry about,” said Caduceus, withdrawing. “Wouldn’t want to lose you again.”

Molly was annoyed by the coddling but said nothing, opting to cross his arms and let his body language transmit his displeasure instead. Since they’d gotten on the ship the rest of the group had been treating him like he was made of painted porcelain, not even wanting to let him take a night watch. It was only once he’d proven to them that his night vision was significantly better than theirs that they’d relented and given him a watch shift. But even then, Molly had caught the looks on their faces when he started climbing the rigging up to the crow’s nest in the dark.

A ring was forced onto his finger and Molly opened his mouth to snap at them, but Jester raised her hands placatingly. “Sorry Molly, but this is really the best for you. It’ll make you faster under the water, and Beau and Yasha are already pretty fast once we put our movement spell on them. Plus you can heal now, so it makes sense to make sure you can get to people up front!”

Molly wasn’t convinced, but he snapped his jaw shut. Fjord cast a spell on them that he insisted would make them able to breathe water, and over the side they went. Molly stared into the choppy water before descending the rope, reflecting on how in line it was with his typical life experience to be literally going to the bottom of the ocean for his first saltwater swim. He always seemed to do things at full intensity. He had shed his coat for the expedition, hoping to preserve the fabric. Dressed down to his shirt, armor, and trousers, he took a deep breath and plunged the final ten feet or so into the chilly water.

With the aid of iron weights, they sank swiftly toward the bottom of the sea. Molly held his breath instinctively for the first two minutes of the descent, until spots started to appear in his vision and he began to panic. Yasha held him fast and when the burn became too much he gasped in a lung full of sea water… only to find himself not drowning. He had a coughing fit from the strange transition to breathing a liquid, and Veth looked at him with sympathy.

It took them a little time to find the tower that held the temple to Uk’otoa, as sea navigation was not the most precise of sciences and the current had pulled them off-course during their descent. The plant life around the obelisk swayed gently in the current, but otherwise all was still. Molly noticed the wrecks of a dozen or more ships in the few hundred feet around them that he could see. Some were choked with sea grass, but many more had yet to begin to decay. He swallowed nervously, looking up to the pale light of the surface and hoping that whatever had brought those ships down wouldn’t befall their own.

They approached without light to guide their way, hoping that they had the element of surprise. Beau had passed her goggles off to Veth and was being led by Jester, Caleb was towed along by Veth, and Caduceus followed the sounds of the others, his eyes unfocused in the dark. There was a crease to his brow and Molly knew that he didn’t like being unable to see, since normally he was the one to see everything.

Pausing for a moment, Molly tapped Caduceus and the humans on the shoulder, indicating that they gather around him. He focused on them, willing the Moonweaver’s blessing of sight in the dark to extend to them. Caduceus gasped a ‘woah’ as the blessing took effect, his pupils taking on the telltale sheen of darkvision. The firbolg smiled widely at him and squeezed his arm, so Molly squeezed back and gave him a small blessing of vigilance as well. Hopefully if the rest of them were surprised, the cleric would be able to act before they could be caught unaware.

No creatures rose from the sea grass as they approached as Molly had feared, but once inside the tower itself something crept across the exit. From crannies above, all manner of strange, twisted sea creatures began to descend, and so the work began. Most of the creatures fell easily, having soft fleshy bodies and no weapons to speak of besides their teeth, but among them were crab-like monsters with hard armor and crushing pincers. Molly’s swords glanced off their shells more often than not, so he had to hope that Caleb would boil them from the inside or that Yasha could cleave off their limbs.

Fjord fought with a determination that Molly had never before seen from the man. The paladin slung sword and spells both, taking down enemies with finesse. He seemed wholly in his element, moving through the water as though he were born in it. The broadsword he carried seemed brighter every time that Molly looked back, and its bearer showed no signs of slowing down even though the enemies threatened to overwhelm him on more than one occasion.

Molly stayed close to Yasha, using her back to cover his flank. When he went to activate his second blade, he felt a buzzing in his blood that called to him, reminding him of the pull he felt whenever they met after being apart for some time. He pulled on that thread as his blade touched his skin, drawing a thin line of red that stung in the salty water. Tendrils of light danced around the blade, and the first creature that Molly stabbed twitched grotesquely as electricity pulsed through its body. Molly grinned, emboldened by the elemental bond, and swung again.

Veth’s crossbow bolts zipped out from behind a fallen pillar where she had half cover, protecting Caleb. The wizard slung bolts of fire, force, and acid, but was obviously holding back his more powerful spells. When one of the crab creatures broke through the line that Beau and Fjord were holding and grabbed Caleb around the waist, Veth screeched and stabbed at its eyes with a wicked-looking hooked dagger. Molly hadn’t known her to be one for melee, but she fought fiercely in defense of her friend.

Beau took a grievous wound from the beak of one sea creature with squid-like features, and Molly shouted out as thick poison leeched from the wound. The monk gasped in pain and clutched at the wound but kept swinging her silver staff, seemingly unhindered by the black liquid in her blood. She slammed the staff down on the creature’s face and it crushed inwards with a sickening sound, then the area fell silent.

Jester rushed forward to heal the monk as Molly looked around for any hidden danger. It seemed they had managed to fight off the first wave of followers of the usurper god, thankfully without any losses. Breathing hard — which still felt wrong in the water — Molly kicked a corpse out of the way of the staircase leading further down into the temple. In doing so, he displaced some of the layer of silt that blanketed nearly everything down here, revealing that the floor was not just muck.

What before had looked like mud was now revealed to be stone covered in a number of objects. The texture of chainmail stood out to Molly’s eye from amid the mess, and he bent to pick it up. Silt dispersed into the water as he moved the links, revealing a dull metal shirt of rings.

“Well, would you look at that,” said Caduceus from behind him. “They’ve been busy since we were last here.” The cleric transferred his staff to his shield hand and began to uncover another pile along the wall, revealing coins and arms and armor previously blanketed with filth.

“It’s probably from the ships outside,” called Fjord. Guilt shadowed his face. “They’ve been amassing offerings, probably with Uk’otoa’s help now that part of his power has been unrestrained.”

“We’ve got to seal this place up again, before any more lives are lost.” Caduceus moved to Fjord’s side and indicated towards the stairs. “I was thinking we could consecrate it in the name of the Wildmother, use Her power to keep Uk’otoa bound. After all, the sea is Her domain.”

The procession into the bowels of the temple was solemn as the gravity of the situation set in. Even Veth didn’t have to be asked twice to leave behind the pile of treasure, though she did insist that they collect it on the way out. Fjord led the way, with Molly right behind. The imagery on the walls did not inspire confidence as to the intentions of Fjord’s former patron, portraying mostly scenes of ships being destroyed by unnatural wind and wave or by the might of an eye-covered tendril. They descended in the darkness, vision still bolstered by Sehanine’s blessing.

The lower chamber had seen better days. Chunks of stone from the ceiling had collapsed inward, leaving the floor littered with huge boulders. What was left of the ceiling did not look particularly structurally sound. Molly thought about the whole thing collapsing, burying them alive, and shuddered. He’d had more than enough of that for one lifetime.

On the far side of the round room, there was a pale glow from a familiar yellow orb. It did not move, but Molly felt as though they were being watched. The back of his neck prickled. Fjord and Caleb approached the orb, discussing how they would remove it. Molly saw Caduceus’ ear flick and the firbolg turned to look on the far side of the room, but returned his attention to the task at hand when he saw nothing.

Molly had nothing to contribute to a discussion of the arcane, so he opted to stand watch with Yasha and Beau, worrying at his lip with his teeth. The feeling of being watched still draped over him. In the wall, the yellow eye itself seemed to stare into his soul as it was poked at with a dagger, then with a chisel. But as watched as Molly felt by that eye, he still got a creeping feeling that there was something else in the room.

The feeling manifested like so many of his powers did: like a loose thread at the edge of his senses, just begging to be pulled. It taunted him from the edge of his perception, not going away. Tentatively, Molly reached for it with his mind, and pulled.

As it had so many times before, pulling the arcane thread unleashed a magical effect. Molly gasped as his vision changed, rippling for a moment with a silvery-blue pulse. Yasha looked his way at the sound, eyes blowing wide. She grabbed his cheek with a speed he couldn’t possibly evade, turning his head to look at the right side of his face. Reflected in her eyes was a red glow.

That’s when he saw it. Yasha forced his head around and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glowing blue outline of a humanoid creature moving carefully out from behind one of the boulders. It had a face full of sharp teeth, huge eyes with slit pupils, and was casting some kind of spell with a familiar falchion in one hand.

“Get down!” he shouted, but Yasha held him tight. She saw nothing in the room, and was more concerned with whatever was happening to his face. Molly scrambled in her grip to evoke faerie fire in the room, begging his god to reveal the threat.

Just as his spell was released, so too was the hidden caster’s. Molly released a wave of dancing auroras at the same time that the enemy released a ribbon of negative energy that struck Fjord in the chest as he turned to heed Molly’s warning. He cried out in pain as the energy flooded through his body, leaving his skin grey and pallid. The offending spellcaster jumped away, but could not escape the binding light Molly had called upon it. Invisibility rendered useless, it shrieked at him and dove forward.

Everyone scrambled for weapons and spell components, but Molly was ready. Breaking free of Yasha’s grip, he slashed with a scimitar right as the creature cast another spell. Molly’s blade sliced into its thigh as ice coalesced around its form, covering it in a protective layer of spiky ice crystals not unlike how Molly often activated his blade. The icy armor exploded in Molly’s face at the impact, blasting his skin full of shards of ice. It must have looked grizzly, because Yasha pulled him back and took his place in front of the creature.

Caduceus was healing Fjord, and Jester called up the largest and most vicious-looking lollipop that Molly had seen yet. It swung at the aquatic caster, but the creature was deft in the water with its fins and it ducked the blow easily, sidestepping a swipe from Yasha’s blade moments later.

Crossbow bolts whipped through the water, almost imperceptible, and the creature hissed. It dove for Fjord, and Caduceus conjured up a cloud of radiant beetles that stung and bit at it. It did not cast, nor attack, instead diving for Fjord’s bag and wresting it from his side. A hand darted inside and pulled the bag inside out, dumping a year’s worth of loot into the room. Caleb was buried in it, barely managing to get off a spell before being entombed in a pile of armor and trinkets.

Then the room shook, raining pebbles down on their heads from the ruined ceiling. A voice pierced Molly’s mind, and from the way that the others doubled over he assumed that they heard the same.

DECEIVER.

RETURN.

RELEASE.

If the fish creature had been looking for the final Cloven Crystal, it was not there. The group had left the relic behind in Rosohna, for good reason.

Enraged at the turn of events, the thing uttered a guttural incantation and unleashed a wave of dark energy over the entire room, drawing the blood out of all of their bodies through the skin. Every plant in the room immediately perished, crumbling to mush. Fjord and Caduceus went limp in the water, and Jester’s complexion went deathly pale. Blessedly, Veth had been far enough away to be spared, but she abandoned attacking and dove for the mountain of items under which Caleb had been buried. Molly barely maintained concentration on his spell through the pain, and he knew that it was his resistance to this kind of damage that had saved him yet again.

Yasha and Beau were surging forward, trying to restrain the thing from finishing off their downed party members. It swung at Fjord, narrowly missing as Yasha grabbed its arm. Beau scored a hit to the side of its head, stunning it momentarily.

“Move fast!” she warned, then took two more punches.

Molly did move fast, using the magic of his ring to propel him through the water. He cast a cure spell on Caduceus, sighing with relief when his amethyst eyes fluttered open. The cleric immediately shouted a healing word in Sylvan, washing over everyone in the room. Fjord sucked in a breath and coughed up blood, and from where he was buried, Caleb surfaced, gasping. Restored enough to gain her bravery back, Jester stepped up to the stunned enemy with black energy crackling around her fingers.

Molly called on the power of the Moonweaver again, putting out an aura of dim light that gave his friends a bit of extra vitality. It seemed enough for Caleb to get his wits about him, wrestling his arms from his hoarder’s pile to aim a green ray at the enemy caster.

Still stunned, the thing didn’t even have a chance to evade. The green beam hit it in the chest, eating away the armor and flesh until bone was visible. Even after the beam had stopped the effect continued, eating away at the thing’s body until there was nothing left. The water in the room darkened as the grey dust dispersed, slowly settling to the floor. The falchion dropped to the ground, then vanished moments later. All that was left of the thing was an amulet and its armor.

Everyone froze in place, stunned, except for Caduceus, who immediately began a prayer of healing. He sat to do so, unable to stay stable on his feet, and his hands shook as he recited the words. “Melora hyvä emäntä, nouse harja katsomahan. Viitimä emännän vilja kun ei tuskihin tulisi…” Molly recognized parts of it from Clarabelle’s nighttime prayers.

“What the fuck was that?” Beau voice echoed in the water.

Molly shrugged, and grimaced when the movement aggravated a wound. “One of those followers of Uk’otoa that you told me about, I assume. They really seem to hate Fjord.”

Beau rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Not that, dude — that!” She pointed at the side of his neck, where Yasha had been inspecting before the battle began. Molly had almost forgotten about it in the fray, but his blood ran cold as he remembered. His hand came up reflexively to touch the spot, but there was no blood.

“It— I—” Molly stuttered. “I don’t know.” He stepped backwards, legs shaking, and impacted against Yasha’s torso.

“That’s the same thing that happened when Vess did her mind assault that fucked us up so hard. All the eyes on her lit up and she lifted us up like puppets until blood came out of our faces.”

Molly’s memory supplied the image of the first time he’d used a blood maledict, blood suddenly pouring from the eyes of a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. His senses began to fuzz, breathing speeding up of its own accord. He dug his nails into his palms and focused on the pain.

Caleb had dug himself out of the junk pile and approached, but Molly didn’t notice until the hands were on him, pushing his face to the side to expose the red eye in the peacock feather. Molly clenched his eyes shut and focused on breathing, trying to keep an even rhythm. The hands lifted his own hand next, turning the palm face up and then back down. Inspecting the eyes there, probably.

“I do not think that Mollymauk did it on purpose.” Caleb’s voice sounded far away, but Molly could still feel the man’s hand on his wrist. He shook his head and raised his hands, pushing them together in the sign for ‘accident.’ He felt Yasha nod, then lead him over to a boulder to sit. Caduceus was watching, but continued to chant. Beau had crossed her arms and was still watching him with suspicion.

Molly watched as the others went back to inspecting the glowing orb in the wall, trying to figure out how to extract it. Veth was sorting through the pile of assorted goods and garbage that had fallen out of the Bag of Holding, stuffing objects back in and tossing them aside in equal measure. Occasionally she would toss a particularly disgusting piece into the trash pile, shouting about why had they kept this so long? Among the pile to leave behind were several disintegrating skins and fossilized pastries.

Molly came back to himself around the same time that a wave of healing washed over the group, restoring colour to their faces and closing up their wounds. Caleb was attempting to remove the orb with force magic, grumbling about how he would not let another gem defy him. It held fast, however, and his hands clenched with quiet anger. Others were trying now, chipping away at the stone around the orb with a hammer and chisel. The stone chipped away at an agonizing pace.

Jester quickly became impatient, pushing forward through the throng. “Okay, okay, okay. The other one came out of Fjord when we did a restoration, so why don’t we try that again?” She brought out a small velvet bag and poured diamond dust over the eye, casting a quick spell. Everyone watched with bated breath as she completed the prayer, hoping for something to happen. The orb… well, it may have dimmed, just for a moment. The sound that Jester made was somewhere between a scream and a hiss, a bit like a tea kettle at full boil.

Caleb pulled at it with the force spell again, gritting his teeth with concentration. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing arms covered in bright white scars and dark freckles. Molly was so distracted by the spiderwebbing lines that he almost missed the moment the orb popped free of its setting, shooting a few feet forward before Caleb stopped it. He had not expected Caleb’s arms to be as scarred as his own.

The group gave a collective sigh of relief, and Veth immediately stuffed the thing into their bag.

“Alright, how do we take away Uk’otoa’s power over this place?” Beau asked, looking to Caduceus.

The cleric looked exhausted already, but there was resolve in his eyes. “It will be easier if Caleb puts up the dome,” he said, looking to the wizard. “Then we need to begin a long ritual. I’ll need to maintain casting for a whole day. The rest of you can rest in shifts. If more things come to attack us, we’ll be protected by the dome and can pick them off from the inside.”

Caleb nodded and began casting a spell. Molly had never seen him cast it, but assumed based on the name that Caduceus was talking about the protective spell that Sier had used to create shelter for them on the Glory Run Road. Sure enough, at the end of the incantation a translucent half sphere apparated around Caleb. Caduceus ducked inside, and the others followed his lead.

Surprisingly, the dome contained air, not water. Everyone’s hair and clothing dripped huge amounts of water as they entered, quickly soaking the floor. Veth cast a spell and the water sloughed off her body, then she began doing the same for the others. Soon they were all dry, and the water had been magically pushed out of the dome. Molly mended a tear in his clothes with a spell and wondered why he hadn’t picked up magic earlier. It was incredibly useful.

Molly volunteered to help with the ritual, having done it before. They brought out the incense and oils, and Caleb produced the small brass brazier that he normally used for summoning Frumpkin. Molly reached for it, brushing fingers with the wizard, and Caleb’s fingers twitched as Molly pulled the brazier away.

“Oh, Mollymauk, I— you—” Caleb cursed quietly in Zemnian. “Would you, ah, like me to start the fire?”

Molly smiled at him. “Thank you, darling, but I’ve got it.” Clapping his hands together and then cupping them, fire licked up between his fingers. Caleb blinked owlishly at him, mouth forming a silent ‘o.’

Veth stood over Caleb with one hand on her hip, the other pointing down at him. “Start resting, mister! We’re gonna be here a while and you look like one swipe from Frumpkin could knock you over!” She was using the full force of her personality, forcing Caleb to take care of himself when he wouldn’t.

“Ja, ja, Mutter…” Caleb laid down, turning his back to Molly. Behind Veth, Fjord snickered. She whirled around.

“You too, scrawny boy. You’re always begging for rests, and now you’re getting one. Go to sleep!” she shrieked, loading her crossbow and sitting down on an empty crate to face the stairs.

Molly, Veth, and Yasha took the first watch shift while the others slept, Molly feeding incense to the fire on occasion. Caduceus kept up a quiet chanting, his monotone Sylvan helping the others drift off to sleep. As the magic of the ritual began to coalesce, time began to move in the same rapid fashion that it had the first time Molly had been a part of this ritual. The incense pile dwindled, the others rested, and Caduceus kept chanting.

Nothing disturbed them during the first several hours of the ritual besides curious fish that poked at the invisible barrier from time to time. They seemed to come more often as time went on, and that’s when Molly noticed the colours beginning to appear in spots around the room. Though the wave of necrotic energy the enemy warlock had unleashed had killed all the plants in the area, bright flora was beginning to appear. Sea grasses sprouted from the edges of the floor, and bunches of corals and anemones were beginning to cluster over the depictions of Uk’otoa on the walls.

Veth started to get fidgety near the end of the first shift. “We should wake Caleb. What if the dome disappears before he can recast it?”

“We can still breath water for another half a day at least…” said Yasha gently, turning from where she had been watching a cluster of bright corals slowly growing.

Veth scoffed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean we have to! Don’t you hate being wet when you could be dry?”

“I don’t mind being wet, really.”

Molly intervened before Veth could get too loud. “Why don’t we let your boy get his full sleep, and I’ll try to set up a new dome? I hypothetically know the spell. And if I fuck it up, then you can wake him up. Does that sound okay?”

Crossing her arms, Veth looked at him skeptically. “I didn’t know you knew anything about arcane magic. I thought it was all god mumbo jumbo.” Molly grinned at her, doing the same trick to summon fire in his hands as before. She looked impressed. “Alright, go on, then. But if you can’t do it, I’m getting a real caster.”

“Sure thing,” Molly replied, digging through his component pouch for a bead. It was down at the bottom with the other odds and ends he hadn’t used yet, given to him by Sier in case he one day needed them. Finally finding it hooked through a slightly bent piece of copper wire, Molly pulled it out, triumphant.

Now, how to cast this? Molly remembered Sier passing around camp in a circle for several minutes before finishing in the center of the circuit, so he did the same. Carefully stepping over the sleeping forms around him, he made a few loops of the dome with the bead in hand while humming a song about the Moonweaver that Desmond had once played. When the bead started to hum with energy in his hand, he placed it in the center of the circle and thought about the protective dome he was trying to summon.

That was all it took, a hemisphere expanding out from the bead to create a wall of force in almost the same place as the existing one. Satisfied, he looked at Veth, who clapped quietly. “Very impressive,” she said, “but a few tricks don’t make you a real wizard like Caleb.” She moved to rouse the wizard, kicking the other sleepers on her way over.

Caleb curled inward when Veth gently shook him. “Was willst du?” he grumbled, shielding his face. She shook him again and he sat up suddenly, straight as a rod, grabbing for his components. “Verdammt, I overslept, there is not enough time to cast the dome before it falls, I should have kept track of the time, dummkopf—”

“Caleb, Caleb, it’s okay!” Veth stilled his frantic hands. “Molly took care of it.” Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, Caleb turned to look at him. Molly waved, holding up the bead and smiling. Caleb’s sleepy confusion persisted.

“Mollymauk?” He rubbed at his eyes. “But he is a divine caster, he cannot—”

“I can, and I did,” said Molly, stowing away the bead. “And now I’m going to sleep. Who wants to take over fire duty?”

Caleb scooted over to face him across the brazier, stoking the flames with a gesture. The flames flared up, wreathing him in golden light that made his hair look like polished copper. The soft light suited him, softening his features and obscuring the dark circles under his eyes. With careful fingers, he began to add tiny bits of dried herbs to the flames. It was quiet for a moment as Molly watched him work, but he spoke up when Molly turned to lay down.

“Mollymauk,” he whispered, not looking up from the flames. “I did not mean to insult you. That was a powerful spell you cast, and I was just surprised.” Another sprig of juniper touched the flames, sizzling as the dry greenery blackened and curled. Silvery smoke swirled away from the burning foliage, smelling strongly like the northern forests where Molly had been found. He dropped the piece into the brazier right as the glowing embers reached his fingers.

Molly paused, leaning with one elbow on his bedroll. “Is it, now?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Ja.” Caleb still didn’t look up at him. Another piece of herb fizzled between his fingers. “As powerful as bringing someone back from death, if only moments after they pass.”

Letting that information sink in, Molly blinked into the fire. It was almost laughable to suggest that he had enough power to raise the dead, but Caleb would know best. He laid down on his back, suddenly feeling his exhaustion. It was a miracle Caduceus was still casting, and Molly respected the cleric for his tenacity. Molly looked toward the firbolg and caught Caleb staring, who immediately looked down into the fire with a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Apology accepted, Mister Caleb,” Molly purred, rolling to face away from the man. Something in his pocket pricked him as he did, and he dug a hand in to find the bead and the copper wire from his components bag. The wire glinted in the flickering light of the flames behind him, and he stared at it questioningly. If raising the dead was now within his power, surely he could send a simple message, right?

He raised the wire to his lips, tentatively, hoping for the telltale sign of magic. Sure enough, when he willed it, an intangible thread of connection tethered in his mind. Heart soaring, he began to whisper into the wire.

“Hello, love. I miss you. Consecrating an underwater evil temple with your sibling. Hope you’re well. We should meet for lunch some time.” He hadn’t counted the words, but felt the spell fizzle a few moments after he stopped talking. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for a response.

Clarabelle’s voice entered his mind exactly as he remembered it. With his eyes closed, it was almost like she was right beside him. “Molly? That was fast! You must be learning a lot. I’d love lunch. Back at the Grove now, the expedition is over. We didn’t find—” the spell ended before she could finish the thought. What she meant was plain, though. They hadn’t found the source of the corruption. Molly wondered if there would be another expedition.

He tried to cast the spell again, but couldn’t find the spark. Sighing, he put the wire down and pulled up the blankets, wishing he had someone to cuddle with. He scooted a little closer to Yasha, who had laid down with her head in Beau’s lap, and went to sleep.

The final few hours of the ritual flew by as the amount of plant and animal life in the chamber grew and grew. It was fascinating, falling asleep in a mostly grey stone room and waking up to a riot of colour. Molly sat up and rubbed his eyes as schools of fish flitted around the dome, which Caleb had recast during his watch shift. The others had let him sleep in, seeing no danger besides perhaps being on the receiving end of a horn to the face if they were the one to rouse him.

At the ritual’s completion, a faint pulse emanated through the water, and the fish temporarily scattered. Indicating that the dome was about to fade for the final time, Fjord recast his water breathing spell and the group packed up, stepping through the barrier into the chilly water once more. Molly’s body still fought him when he tried to take a first breath of the salty water, but a slap on the back from Yasha helped.

They stopped to collect as many valuables as possible from the entrance, much of which was in the form of coin and jewelry. Molly wondered how much wealth had been lost in the form of other goods like spices and cloths. Fjord told them that this area was near a common shipping route from Marquet, which meant that a lot of luxury goods would have passed this way. They didn’t see any bodies, but he also couldn’t help but wonder how many sailors had lost their lives to Uk’otoa in the past year. Judging by the grim look on Fjord’s face, he couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

Once clear of the tower, Caduceus warned everyone before casting a spell that would help them rise through the water. They broke the surface quickly thanks to the spell, shooting a few feet into the air before landing on the water with a thud that sent out ripples. Molly rubbed his arse after standing up, knowing the impact would probably bruise. Once again, Veth dried everyone off.

A dense fog had rolled in, obscuring all visibility farther than a yard or two. Even the sun was not visible; the whole sky glowed a pale white. It was an eerie sight, and the fog had a muffling effect on the sounds of their voices as well.

Jester cast a message spell. “Orly! Where are you? Are you in the fog? Did anything attack you? We just got back and it’s like, so foggy. Can’t, see, anything.” She chose her final words carefully as Fjord counted off the last of her twenty five words on his fingers. Waiting, she bobbed her head from side to side, a physical manifestation of her impatience. Molly wondered how she stood taking watch.

Her posture shifted as she took on a falsely deep voice to relay the reply. “No ma’am, we saw the fog rollin’ in so we backed off to Vide Cay. Waitin’ for you there.”

“Vide Cay would be due west of here,” said Fjord, looking around them in the fog. “Caleb, which way is north?”

Caleb paled. “Uh, I cannot…” he trailed off. “There is no sun, no stars, no landmark.” He waved his hands around vaguely in the fog.

“Does anyone have a compass?”

The rest of the group looked at each other, obviously not used to needing one with the wizard around. But Molly did have one, as he had been prepared for solo travel. It took a moment to find, buried under his clothes and his sewing kit, but eventually he withdrew it with a triumphant motion. Caleb took it and frowned down at the dial.

“I do not think this is ordinary fog,” the wizard breathed. With a gesture, his eyes took on the kaleidoscopic sheen of a detection spell. “Ah, conjuration and illusion. It will be difficult to navigate out of this.”

Yasha took Molly’s hand, then reached for Beau with the other. “Where did it come from?” she asked, squeezing Molly tightly.

Caduceus shrugged. “Well, I did ask the Wildmother to protect that temple against those who would want to claim the ocean for another. This must be what She thought up.” Droplets of water were already beading down his breastplate from the fog. “In any case, we’ve only got an hour of being able to walk on water. So what are we doing?”

“I don’t like our chances of walking out of here with no sense of direction,” said Fjord, worrying at his lip. “Can we teleport? Have Orly meet us somewhere?” All eyes turned to Caleb.

The wizard shrunk at the attention, magic fading from his eyes. “I could transport us to Urukayxl,” he murmured.

“Perfect.”

Jester sent another message to Orly explaining that they were going to go to the island on their own and thanking him for the ride before grabbing up Beau’s free hand and one of Fjord’s, creating a humanoid chain. “Everybody hold hands!” she exclaimed, swinging Fjord and Beau’s arms happily.

Fjord took Caduceus’ hand, who took Veth’s, who took Caleb’s. Caleb sighed. “You know this is not necessary, ja?” But everyone was waiting for him, so he sighed again and took Molly’s hand to close the loop. His grip was delicate, tentative. Molly gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and he began the short incantation.

The world shifted, and the air was once again punched from Molly’s lungs. This transportation was different from that of the chalk circle: Molly could still see all of his companions. He gripped tightly at the hands in his as the group was suddenly shunted sideways, all crying out in pain. It felt like being wrung through a clothes wringer, a wave of force crushing his body from top to bottom. Then his feet hit solid ground, and they were in a forest.

Chapter Text

The forest was lush and humid, the foliage so dense that next to no sun penetrated the canopy. Molly looked around the group to see Beau holding her head, Fjord wiping at a nosebleed, and Caleb holding his chest, breathing sharply. They were still connected by a hand, so Molly dropped Yasha’s hand to cast a healing spell on the wizard. Caleb immediately improved, breath going from fast and hard to deep and slow. Eyes focusing again, the wizard suddenly noticed that they were still holding hands and pulled back.

“Thank you, Mollymauk,” he breathed, rubbing at the fingers of the hand that Molly had been holding just moments before. Molly wondered if he had accidentally crushed it in transit.

“No problem, dear,” Molly said, placing a lingering touch to the human’s shoulder. “So, did we end up in the right place?” Looking around, there were scattered stone ruins nearby but no other landmarks.

“Ja, the temple is this way.” Caleb pointed into the forest. There were signs of a fight there, split trees and scorch marks upon the stone. Molly remembered them telling him about the hard fight they’d had here the first time, and was grateful that they now had an extra party member and an entire year’s worth of experience under their belts. Hopefully it wouldn’t be as hard this time.

“Should we give Caduceus a chance to rest?” asked Yasha. “He has been up a very long time.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” replied the firbolg. “Jester gave me a pick-me-up earlier. No need to wait on my account.” He shed his purple overcoat, rolling it up and tying it onto his pack with a bit of braided and beaded twine.

And so they set out, shedding layers as the heat and humidity set in. Fjord, Molly, and Yasha took turns slashing through the undergrowth, opening a path for the rest of the group. It was hard work, and Molly shed his shirt to get better airflow after his first bout of chopping. The forest was steeped in the rich scent of earth and decay, and cutting back plants often caused a sweet smell to enter the mix. They had a few close calls with plants that emitted clouds of spores when disturbed, but the animals gave them a wide berth and they didn’t run into any of the humanoid inhabitants in their first several hours of travel.

At one point they stopped for a break and Molly leaned up against a tree to suck back as much water as his stomach would take, using more to rinse the sweat off his face. He was just starting to relax when Yasha’s head flicked up to look above him, eyes wide. Molly turned to look as she grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away. An enormous snake was slithering down among the vines, at least two yards long. It paused at head height, looking Molly in the eyes. Its long tongue flicked out every few seconds, having a sort of hypnotizing effect.

Caduceus stepped up to the tree, lifting a hand to wave. “Hey little buddy,” he said to the snake, his voice deep and calming. “Are you dangerous?” The snake did not respond, merely holding its position and flicking its tongue a few more times. Caduceus took a step backward. “Better not chance it,” he decided.

“Ah, that reminds me,” said Caleb, casting a spell. “We should disguise ourselves before we go any further.” With a flourish of his fingers, members of the party began to change. Beau’s skin changed to include large patches of golden scales, and her clothing became more simple. The others changed in similar ways, some with fully-scaled skin, all with clothing that was similar to what Beau now appeared to wear.

Molly’s horns disappeared from his field of view, startling him a little. Normally he wasn’t aware that they were even there, but their absence felt odd. Looking down at himself, the purple of his skin shimmered into a bright green hide of scales. He appeared bare-chested, with a simple linen wrap around his waist and sandals on his feet. His swords were still visible, but visibly less adorned. When his tail swept into view, Molly was startled again as the appendage looked more like a snake than a part of his body.

Jester was admiring her own tail, also snake-like, but in bronze scales. “These are great disguises, Caleb! Way better than last time. I bet we can walk right in, and we won’t even need to make a distraction this time.”

Caleb’s body language folded inward at the compliment, and he mumbled in response. “Ja, but it is only an illusion. Remember, we cannot speak to anyone without giving ourselves away. Try to stay away from any of the locals. I know Yasha speaks Abyssal, but her accent…” Everyone agreed, and they set out.

“I don’t even know why I know Abyssal…” Yasha said softly as they began to walk. Molly put a hand on her arm, stroking gently. He knew what she was going through, having skills with unknown origins and malevolent implications.

“I just discovered I speak Drow, myself,” he said, rubbing soothing circles into the meat of her arm. She had gotten stronger while he was away, and her firm muscles were tense. She, like so many members of their group, could certainly use a massage. Molly made a mental note to scope out the best bathhouse next time they were in a city and to splurge on everyone. It was the least he could do.

“You mean Undercommon? Yeah right,” said Beau from behind them, condescension in her tone. Molly looked back to see her rolling her eyes, the sight eerie with her face disguised as it was in a snakelike visage. Her voice shifted, taking on a harsh edge as she spoke in Undercommon. “More than just drow speak this language, mindless-spider-slave.” Molly couldn’t help but laugh at the insult, so foreign yet somehow so familiar to him. The literal translation was nonsensical, but the term was probably scathing if one had the cultural context. Maybe Lucien had, but Molly didn’t.

He spat back the first thing that came to mind, a word that came unbidden from the unexplored depths of his memory: “sungazer.” Beau blinked at him, taken aback that he had indeed understood. He stuck out his tongue at her, huffing with amusement when the illusion made it look much longer than normal.

They all quieted down and started moving with stealth in mind as they approached the settlement. It was entirely thanks to Caleb’s ability to estimate distance that they knew it was coming up, as the dense jungle foliage prevented them from seeing it until they were almost on the edge of the tree line. Hiding behind the giant leaves of a tropical plant, they peered through the streets of the small town. There were some people walking about, but much of the lower-laying areas were devoid of activity. “Must have gotten flooded too badly to repair,” whispered Fjord.

The five-sided pyramid in the distance towered above the town’s shops and dwellings, dwarfing even the tallest of the surrounding jungle’s trees. Its stairs were dark with water, and the sparkling of the sunlight told Molly that water was probably actively flowing down the steps. There were no visible figures on the pyramid itself, so they chose a deserted street and began to make their way over as quietly as they could.

Veth went ahead, sticking to the shadows to forewarn them of any locals who might wander across their path. She whispered instructions to Caleb from time to time through her wire, and twice the wizard redirected the group or forced them to stop behind cover. With Veth’s guidance, they managed to avoid being seen before arriving at the base of the pyramid.

Molly knew that they would be seen going up, though. Caleb couldn’t make them all invisible, and there was no cover whatsoever anywhere on the sides of the structure. The group deliberated a bit in the shadow of an abandoned building, hissing in hushed voices about how to get to the top. Jester wanted to polymorph and fly up, but Caleb insisted it was a waste of spells and that they’d be seen anyway. Given how much of the group’s magic power it would take to make any number of them invisible, they eventually settled on doing things the mundane way: choosing the least populated side of the structure and just walking up as if they belonged. Molly didn’t have any illusions about the plan: he knew that the villagers would know they didn’t belong. He kept his hands on his scimitars.

Creeping their way over to one side of the ziggurat that was not in the direct sun, they began their ascent. Molly was keeping an eye out over his shoulder, but Caduceus was the first to spot trouble.

“Some people are pointing up at us,” the cleric warned, squinting into the distance.

They were already halfway up, and the figures who noticed them were far off. They continued to climb, dropping the falsely casual pace in favour of speed now that they’d been spotted. They had to step carefully, as the stairs were slick with water and slimy algae. Fjord slipped once, his foot sliding off the step at speed and his full weight coming to land all at once on his knee. He swore loudly, and winced a little as Yasha helped him up.

Beau crested the top of the structure first, speeding ahead as she always did. Molly was a little annoyed by how she showed off her mobility sometimes, rubbing it into people’s faces as she darted up a tree to scout and skidding down the bark in lieu of carefully climbing down. Just as he was thinking about how they ought to be sticking together she swore and rolled to the side, dodging an unseen attacker. It took a dozen seconds before the others were able to catch up and come to her aid.

“For fuck’s sake,” Molly cursed as he activated his sword. Four yuan-ti warriors in ceremonial garb were taking swings at Beau, each of them hooded like a cobra. They moved with inhuman speed and grace, darting after the monk as quickly as she was able to sidestep their strikes. Molly moved to flank one of her assailants, striking them with long slices from his radiant swords.

A word from Caleb had one of the yuan-ti frozen in place, eyes darting but otherwise immobile. The clerics took this opportunity to blast the warrior with radiant flame, as the held enemy could not dodge the strikes. Summoning the Star Razor, Fjord struck the killing blow on it with a swing that rippled with arcane power.

The thrum of a bowstring left one of Beau’s attackers on one knee, rising slowly with a bolt in their calf. Another thrum and Molly was struck in the shoulder, staggering backward with surprise. In shock, he searched his surroundings and found a yuan-ti archer who had previously been unseen. They were nocking another arrow, the tip of which was dark with something. As the blood circulated through his body, Molly could feel the pulse of poison weakening him. His vision swam as his heart palpitated, and his next swing went wide.

The archer did not get the second arrow off before Yasha was on them, cleaving through their buckler with ease and sending them stumbling. Molly took a moment to focus on the poison in his blood, drawing it out through the wound to splatter onto the stones below. His heartbeat immediately corrected and his muscles came back to their usual state, and the next time that he sliced at a yuan-ti the swing connected.

The spellcasters were saving their more powerful spells, but the battle still swiftly came to an end. Even their cantrips were powerful these days, and the temple’s defenders were outnumbered by a factor of two. Jester rushed to remove the arrow from Molly’s shoulder the moment the last yuan-ti had fallen. He hissed as she snapped the shaft and pushed it through, biting down onto the meat of his hand until his incisors drew blood. Once the missile was removed, she pressed a healing spell to his skin with a kiss to his shoulder. The magic washed over him like sparkling water and he slumped with relief.

“Thank you, dear. I never would have gotten that thing out myself.” He returned the kiss by pressing one to her temple. She flexed a little, grinning.

The group convened around the entrance to the temple. Water filled the stairway, rippling slightly as it overflowed and streamed toward the sides of the monument in little rivulets. Veth sighed deeply at the sight, bemoaning “why is it always water?”

“I mean, we knew it was full of water before we came. We made it full of water,” Fjord said as he cast the water breathing spell again. Molly hated the feeling that accompanied the spell, as it made breathing air feel somehow too thin.

Veth fidgeted with a ring on her finger, pressing it firmly down where it was secure. “That doesn’t mean it would stay full of water!” she shrieked. “It could have drained by now. Can’t you control the seas or something? Why don’t you drain it so we don’t have to go through this again?”

Fjord sighed, a hand coming up to rub at his face. “This is a bit more water than I am capable of dealing with.” Caduceus gave him an anxious look, indicating toward the stairs where they had come from, and Fjord nodded. “No time for complaining. Let’s go before the rest of the town gets here.” He stepped into the stairway, water sloshing around his thighs as he began to descend.

Molly quickly extended a blessing to some of the other party members, giving them the ability to see without light. Noticing the change, Beau shot him a thumbs-up and a “thanks, dude,” as she sloshed into the dark temple.

They swam down to the first chamber to find it empty. A spiral staircase descended into a circular hole in the center of the floor, backdropped by a statue of three serpents with gem eyes. The walls of the room were decorated with mosaics that would have been beautiful if there were colour, but with no light source Molly could only see the tiles in shades of grey. He recognized the spiraling depiction of Zehir even with most of the details obscured, as it was similar to what they had found under Molaesmyr. The eyes almost seemed to follow them as they descended into the next room, and Molly had to tear his gaze away to focus on where he was going.

The walls around the spiral staircase gave away after a single rotation, revealing a huge chamber. They leapt off the edge of the stairs, slowly descending in the water to the bottom. The floor gave a bit under Molly’s feet when he landed, squishing like a sponge. He looked down to see a mossy carpet, and small plumes of mud spiraled around his feet as he shifted his weight. All around them were the remains of trees, killed by the water around them. Caduceus made a disappointed hum. “I really wanted to collect more of that fruit.”

Fjord continued leading them through the temple, weaving through trees once Caleb had pointed out the correct direction. They came to another pentagonal chamber, one with thick pillars etched with runes.

“This is as far as most of us came last time,” Beau explained, turning to Molly. “Only Fjord and Avantika went into the last room.”

“We fought a hydra here!” Jester called from across the room where she was beautifying a pillar with dick art. “It just kept growing heads, but Caleb slowed it down and Yasha cut them off and we blasted it with fire and it died. I can show you the picture in my sketchbook later if you want.” She added the last flourish to her piece and stepped back to inspect it, nodding.

Molly moved to stand next to Beau, who was inspecting a wall with a floor-to-ceiling mural. It didn’t look like much in the dark, and both of them jumped a little as orbs of light appeared above their heads. Caleb swam up beside them, silently inspecting the art. It was partially familiar — Molly recognized one of the three largest figures from the books he’d read in the Archive of the Cobalt Soul back in Zadash. It was of a huge bird wreathed in purple flame with three onyx eyes. Below it were humanoid figures, three of which were larger than the rest and haloed with brighter colour. The other two major figures were of a massive coiled serpent with fins and three amber eyes, and a thick, curling worm with spines and a ring of teeth. Inside the worm’s mouth were three eyes set in ivory. Each of the massive creatures had humanoid shapes below it, with three haloed silhouettes above the rest.

“Something about that bird is so damned familiar,” said Beau, reaching out to touch the surface of the mural where the bird’s wings transitioned from feather to flame. Silt washed away under her touch, revealing a patch of slightly brighter pigment. “What did you say it was called, again? I don’t want to pull out my notes down here.”

Molly wracked his brain, looking for the name. For sure the word ‘phoenix’ was in it, but for the life of him he could not remember the rest of its title. He looked to Caleb and caught the man staring at him in the soft glow of the amber lights. The wizard averted his gaze, then mumbled “the Twilight Phoenix.”

“Yeah, fuck. Fuuuck,” she groaned, closing her eyes and rubbing at her face with both hands. Everyone turned to look at her.

“Do you remember when we were looking for the hag, and I told you some of the stories about Mount Mentiri?” Some of the group nodded with more certainty than others. Fjord’s expression especially betrayed that he remembered no such thing. Caleb did not nod, but he paled as he seemed to connect the dots.

“Okay, well, I thought that shit was just stories. Y’know, spooky folk tales to keep your kids from climbing the mountain because it’s dangerous. But apparently way back before the Empire was controlling them, people around Mount Mentiri worshiped a bird-like creature they called a god and burned effigies to it. And sometimes people. They were all wiped out by the Julous Dominion, but superstitious people in Kamordah still say that if you go there they might burn you alive as a sacrifice.”

“It does sound kind of like Caleb’s Zemnian stories,” Veth agreed. “But it would be way scarier if they included the witch.”

“That’s not the scariest part, man. I’m realizing that if there actually is a fiery bird god under the ground there…”

Caleb finished her sentence. “It could probably destroy half of the Bromkiln Hills.”

Her face crumpled. “I think it’s trying to get free, just like Uk’otoa. For decades, Kamordah has been dealing with natural disasters like mudslides, sinkholes, steam vents. Every one is ‘the worst in recorded history.’ They just had a slide that wiped out most of the valley. I don’t even know if my family is okay.”

Jester rushed to her side and pulled her into a tight hug. “I can send them a message for you!”

“Thanks, Jester.” Beau’s reply was muffled against the cleric’s shoulder. “Maybe wait until we’re not in danger, though?” Jester released her death grip and agreed with vigor, moving towards the well in the middle of the room where Fjord and Caduceus were waiting. They began to descend the well shaft.

Molly’s eyes were pulled again to the depiction of the gnawing worm, Quajath. The ivory eyes stared into space, pupilless, milky, and blind. Brown chunks scattered away from it in the mural, giving it the appearance of having just burst forth from the earth. Molly could imagine it tunneling under Exandria, slowly devouring soil and rock alike with its infinite teeth, never stopping to sleep. The image evoked a feeling of hunger without end, crawling and consuming, crawling and consuming, crawling and con—

“Don’t fall behind!” Veth snapped from behind him, tearing his mind from the image before him. Molly turned to see her step off into the well and begin to drop slowly through the water. The rest of the room was empty. He scrambled to follow, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the feeling of foreboding that he felt, and found the rest of the group once again clustered around a familiar orb in the floor of a spherical stone chamber.

Caleb was gesturing to lines on the floor, mostly obscured by diatom algae. Caduceus and Yasha were wiping at the muck, trying to clear the brown fuzz from the stone so the runes could be seen. Molly moved to do the same, noticing a similar line near him. The runes were not like anything he had seen before, looking more like scratches from claws than letters.

“This is similar to the arcane locks I read about at the Archive,” the wizard was saying, still gesturing at the lines of runes and cocentric patterns around the Cloven Crystal at the bottom of the sphere. “Each line of runes is a tether, or a chain. They must be charged to hold whatever power they are meant to contain.” He gestured quickly, and his eyes flashed with the sheen of a detection spell. “They are not charged, currently. Perhaps they were dispelled when the crystal was placed? I do not know. But they are physically intact, and based on the descriptions in the text, they may be able to be recharged.” His tone was fervent, buzzing with excitement as he finally got to speak with authority on the topic of the arcane.

“You see these?” he asked, pointing to sigils within the center circle on the floor, out from which the lines of runes climbed their way up the walls. Hair drifted into his face as he moved, and he shoved it back, displacing more hairs from his ponytail in the process. “This is the arcane symbol for the school of Abjuration. I believe that if we use Abjuration spells of sufficient power here, we can charge the seals once more. Ah, I would demonstrate, but my only Abjuration spell worth a damn prevents other magics…” He finished with hesitancy, reverting to his usual, more skittish, demeanour.

“Abjuration is the protection one, right?” Jester asked, puckering her lips in thought. Caleb nodded. “Balls, I didn’t prepare any of that today.” Her tail flicked in annoyance, an oddly slow motion in the water.

Fjord looked thoughtful, then summoned the Star Razor. “I’ve got something.” He spoke an incantation and the runes on his blade flashed with light, then he tapped the blade to the center of one of the sigils. The blade flashed again, this time down the length of the blade from the hilt to the tip. The sigil lit with the same light and stayed lit even after the blade dimmed.

“I’ve got one, I think,” said Caduceus. “But you might want to back up first.” They did, giving the cleric a few yards of space. He intoned and wove his hands, then tapped his staff on the floor. A shimmering sphere of force emanated from him, not dissimilar to the hut spell. The sigil below it began to glow slightly, and the sphere began to shrink in size as the glowing grew stronger. When the spell was gone, the sigil glowed just as brightly as the first.

Jester clapped with glee, swimming back to the other cleric. “Ooh, Caduceus, I don’t know that spell! What is it?” Caduceus explained how it kept things away from him, and she mimed his casting to no effect.

Returning from the far edge of the room, Caleb approached the third and final sigil, squatting on the floor beside it. He cast with no preamble, withdrawing a glass marble from a pocket and speaking an incantation quietly. Another shimmering sphere grew around him, quickly being absorbed in the same way as Caduceus’ had.

The three sigils now lit, the lines connecting them and encircling the crystal began to bleed with light as well. A low rumbling shook the floor, and the crystal slowly floated out of its setting to hover several feet above the floor. Fjord snatched it with a rag and dumped it into the Bag of Holding as another, stronger rumble shook the chamber. Veth’s eyes darted around the room before looking up to the exit, hands twitching with nervous energy.

“Well, did we do it, can we go?!” she screeched. Then the light from the floor flared suddenly brighter, forcing them all to shield their eyes, and flashed up the lines of runes that ran up the walls.

“Ja, I think it is done!” Caleb shouted over the next wave of rumbles, this time shaking pieces of stone free from the ceiling. “Let’s go!”

As if on cue, a shimmering barrier erupted from the circular sigils. It looked like the ones they had cast, but seemed much stronger. As it grew it pushed them away from where they had been standing, forcing them to reorient themselves. They scrambled toward the opening in the ceiling, those magically aided moving much faster than the rest.

Then the sucking sound started. Molly had been making good headway in the water until it did, but suddenly he was unable to progress. He looked back and saw Caleb, Veth, Caduceus, and Jester slowly drifting farther away despite their frantic swimming. He shouted to Fjord, who turned and swore. The paladin focused and extended a hand and for a moment everything stood still, but then he clenched his fist and suddenly they were rushing forward, propelled by the water. They shot through the well into the room above, narrowly missing the ceiling.

The three massive, rune-covered pillars in the room were now alight with arcane magic, humming with power. Leaves from the previous room were blowing down the curved staircase, shooting toward the well. Fjord grabbed Jester by the elbow and shouted to the rest. “Everyone grab someone! We’re going to have to blast out of here!”

Beau grabbed Veth around the waist and threw her under her arm, earning a shriek for her efforts. Yasha seized Caduceus around the hip, holding the lanky firblog tight to her side. Caleb looked at Molly with wide eyes and scrambled to grab on, managing to get one arm around his shoulder from behind and another around his waist, hanging like a backpack.

It was just in time, as Fjord’s spell surged behind them immediately after, propelling them forward at speed. They shot through to the arboretum and towards its precariously spiraling staircase, watching as the dead foliage was sucked down into the room below.

They rocketed up as more matter was sucked down around them, shooting up and out into the chamber above to find it only half full of water. They surfaced and gasped at the air, coughing out salt water. Molly tread water with Caleb still draped over his back, the wizard holding on in a white-knuckled grip. The others surfaced as well, with Veth have to wiggle out of Beau’s arms to get her head above water. The water level in the room was swiftly dropping, and moving towards the exit was a real challenge. When Molly’s feet first touched the floor, the undertow nearly knocked his feet out from under him. He saw Caduceus go down and struggle to stand again.

Molly was the first to reach the stairs, with Caleb hot on his heels. Veth caught up to them easily, running on the surface of the water, and she cast a spell to dry off the moment they were on solid stone.

“That’s it, I am never doing another underwater mission ever again. Not even for a million gold. We fixed your fuck-up, I’m done.” She stabbed an accusing finger at Fjord, then turned to climb the stairs. The half-orc looked wounded by it, but resigned. Caduceus was nodding in agreement with her, wringing water out of his hair.

She paused for a moment, mumbling an apology to Caleb, and began to dry him off with a spell as well. Molly moved ahead, hoping to make sure the coast was clear before they caught up.

It wasn’t. He could hear the patter of bare feet on wet stone above, as well as hissed Abyssal. He drew his swords and tucked himself tight against the wall, hoping to get the drop on whoever came through the doorway first. It was only a moment before he heard the jingling of metal, and he struck on instinct toward the figure who appeared. His blade slipped underneath the bronze scales of their armor, painting them in red. Their momentum carried them down the stairs where they nearly collided with Caleb before being caught by Yasha. The barbarian held them tight and turned toward Beau, who beat them across the head with her staff.

Molly cursed his lack of visibility in the next room, but darted up before they could get overwhelmed in the stairwell. As he crested the steps, something swung toward his head and he ducked and rolled just in time.

The temple was swarming with yuan-ti now, having seen the commotion at the top of their holy place. Nearly a dozen figures surrounded him, some in scale mail with swords and others in simple robes with spears. He activated a scimitar, lighting up the chamber, and cast a defensive spell as the yuan-ti swarmed him. Sparkling defenders manifested in the air around him and began to attack anything that got too close — tiny animated swords, staves, and crossbows bombarding his attackers with radiant energy.

He could hear the rest of his group rushing up the stairs now, following the sounds of combat. Life-sized versions of his spirit guardian weapons went to work, taking down enemy after enemy. Most of the temple’s defenders went down easily, but the Nein took many wounds in the process, outnumbered as they were. One of the yuan-ti surprised them by summoning a spiritual weapon on Caleb, and they had to struggle through the fray to find the caster and take them down. In the meantime, the spectral whip brought Caleb to one knee.

The battle dragged on for what felt like an eternity, though in reality it had only been a minute. Molly’s shroud of spectral defenders faded, as did Caduceus’ blessing and Jester’s lollipop. Everyone was breathing hard and running to take down the final few yuan-ti defenders when footsteps began to echo from the stairway. A cobra-hooded yuan-ti with elaborate ceremonial jewelry descended slowly, golden staff in hand. Their eyes were as red as the rubies around their neck, their gaze hard with anger.

Three beams of fire streaked toward them and their gazed locked on Caleb, hissing something in Abyssal. Molly ran a scimitar through the spear-wielding yuan-ti with whom he was engaged, letting their body drop to the floor unceremoniously before turning to look at the new arrival. They raised their scaled hands and began to cast, swirling black necrotic energy gathering at their fingers. Molly knew what was to come: their gaze was still locked on Caleb, who had just attacked them from where he was kneeling on the floor. Blood pooled around the wizard and his face was deathly pale.

Molly sprang into action right as the necrotic energy surged forward. It wasn’t a conscious thought, his body moved forward on the instinct to protect, protect, protect. He intercepted the spell with his chest, immediately tensing as the necrotic energy surged through his veins and sapped the life from his body. The pain overwhelmed all thought, though he was vaguely aware of shouts around him and of the moisture being drawn from his skin. At the corners of his vision, he could see his hands puckering with dehydration.

Time seemed to dilate: a moment turning into an eternity as he weakened. Soon all he could hear was his own breathing, loud in his ears, and the fragile beating on his heart. His vision swam with dark spots and cold stone impacted with his knees, and still the magic sapped life from him. “Heal,” his brain demanded, but his hands would not respond. A high-pitched ringing took over his hearing as the black spots in his vision grew, and then Mollymauk Tealeaf succame to the darkness once more.

Chapter Text

Solid black surrounds him. Molly raises a hand but cannot even see that. Open space surrounds him, but he feels suffocated. Panicking, he feels around for something, anything.

He finds ground under his feet, cold and damp. He grabs fistfuls of the earth, focusing on that single point of contact to reassure him. He isn’t buried again. He isn’t adrift in that other place.

Distantly, he hears water drip. The sound echoes widely around him, and he clenches his eyes shut and begs for his sight to return. Drip. Drip. Ten drops later he works up the courage to reopen his eyes, and when he does he can barely make out his immediate surroundings in the dull monochrome of darkvision.

He is in a cave, though he doesn’t know how he came to be. There is no light, no exit, just rough stone and earth walls and ceiling and floor. Water drips in one corner, pooling on the ground. He approaches the pool, sees his reflection in it. The tiefling looking back at him is silvery — typical in the dark — but also insubstantial somehow. His breath hitches, and that’s when he realizes that he is not actually breathing. Pinching his nose, he takes another breath and finds the hand blocking his airway proves no obstacle. Dreaming, then?

The water ripples sourcelessly. Then again. Molly’s reflection is erased as the surface begins to ripple from some unheard vibration, building in intensity. Eventually he hears it, a low rumbling coming from his right. He goes to draw a scimitar to defend himself but finds his belt empty. He is dressed in his old favourite trousers, the motley ones that he lost to the worms, and his maroon coat. It’s so familiar-feeling that he didn’t notice how odd that was at first, and he pulls the coat tight around him like a security blanket as the rumbling draws closer.

With a crash, something breaks through the far wall. An open mouth pulls in the stone and earth, macerating it to pieces with row after row of wicked pointed teeth. The worm, or whatever it is, pays Molly no mind as it crosses his little cavern and begins to punch through the other side. It is propelled by spine-like growths along its body, and it spins slowly as it moves forward. Molly stands transfixed as it passes. The spell is broken when a drop of water lands on his head, and he shivers and shakes himself back to reality and runs to follow the beast.

From up close, the rasping of the creature’s teeth and spines upon the stone sound like hundreds of whispers overlapping. It sounds like madness, and Molly covers his ears to keep it out. They move through the earth for the gods know how long, and Molly silently begs to see the sky again. But the monster he follows is a creature of the dark, he knows, and it stays deep beneath the surface.

They punch through to another cavern, this one so large that Molly cannot see the far walls. The worm continues on, moving towards its unseen destination. Molly follows.

Deep into the open cavern, they come upon a stone stronghold. Its thick walls are no match for the unstoppable force of the worm’s hunger, and horns are blared as it breaches the stronghold’s defenses. Dark dwarves in heavy armor attack the worm, but it devours those who stand before it and its spines deflect the weapons of those to the side. The defenders do not seem to notice Molly, who wanders behind with apprehension. After devouring a dozen dwarves and several buildings, the worm passes through the far wall of the fortress and is gone.

Molly continues to follow, a morbid sense of curiosity driving him. They continue on a straight path through the cavern, sometimes grazing through walls when it narrows or twists. Always going forward, never turning, the worm moves with single-minded determination. Or perhaps mindlessness. A sprawling citadel appears on the horizon, their trajectory dooming them to move through a corner of it. Molly braces himself for whatever will come.

When they reach the citadel, they are again surrounded by attackers. These are not like any humanoid Molly has ever seen, having tentacles where their mouths should be and pure white eyes. “Illithid,” supplies the cold voice in the depths of his mind, and Molly shoves it away. They raise their hands in unison and pale energy emits outward like the ripples in a pond. It impacts upon the worm to no effect, and the illithid begin to scream. Some fall to their knees, babbling, and others run, shouting nonsense. The worm powers on.

The stone floor gives way to sand, and chunks of black glass begin to litter the ground. The sand rasps under the worm as it passes, though Molly’s boots leave no imprints and make no sound. Among the sand and glass, bone begins to appear. Soon the floor is mostly bone and glass, and in the distance Molly can see the faint glow of a blue crystal cave wall.

The floor slopes down, forming a pit, and as the worm slithers down the pile of bone and glass begins to avalanche behind them. At the center of the pit the worm dives down, consuming the fragments and beginning to disappear into the pile. Molly scrambles away, wanting nothing less than to be buried here. The worm’s tail disappears with a rasp, and the whole cavern is struck with an earthquake that fractures many of the walls. A cascade of blue crystal falls to the ground, exploding with the sound of a thousand shattering windows. Molly covers his ears and shudders in place.

Then the bone and glass starts sliding toward the center of the pit, a sucking sound intensifying as it moves. It disappears down a hole there, picking up speed. Molly has to scramble to get out, grabbing onto the semi-solid ground beneath and climbing up to the edge of the pit. When all of the bone has disappeared down the worm’s tunnel, there is a moment of silence before a roar shakes the earth. Something bursts forth from the sand and earth, spraying them in a cloud at least a dozen yards in every direction.

Molly shields his face. When the rain of earth subsides he lowers his arms to look at the arrival, and has to suppress a scream at the sight. A humanoid face, twisted in horror, looks out over the cave, three arms with pointed humanoid fingers dangling around it. The face looks like something wrought in wax that was left out in the sun, a melted and perverse imitation of humanity. It is at least double the width of the worm that Molly followed to this place.

The face turns toward him and looks him straight in the eye, the first living thing to do so since he arrived here. It screams again, and the scream penetrates Molly’s mind, anchoring him to the spot in fear. The thing lurches forward and he clenches his eyes shut, mind focused singularly on escape, but body unable to follow. As the hot breath of the monster touches his face, something grabs the back of his coat and pulls.

Molly lands with a thud on a soft surface and thrashes as control of his limbs returns. Opening his eyes reveals that he is in a glade of soft moss, surrounded by dark trees under a night sky. Catha hangs above him, waning, and he cries with joy, kneeling with supplication under Her beauty. A warm wind blows through the glade, rustling his hair and the trees. It swirls around him, lifting small leaves upward in a spiral, and Molly feels light. Looking to the moon, he floats upward.

The ground falls away below him, revealing a massive forest upon a mountain plateau. In amongst the trees are soft lantern lights and walkways, a whole city among the canopy. Tiny figures move from tree to tree along the platforms, and Molly can hear distant music. A rumbling grows below, and hundreds of birds take flight from the forest canopy, fleeing. The music stops as the rumbling grows, and a cacophony of shouts take its place.

With a crash, a tree falls, tearing walkways from the sides of surrounding trees. Figures drop to the ground and go still as the screams intensify. The earth around the area is torn up, revealing destroyed roots. Another tree falls. Then another. They form a rough line, each falling in sequence like dominoes, though not hitting each other. A worm breaks forth from the earth, spraying soil everywhere before diving back down.

Molly blinks and the scene shifts. It is now a full moon and the forest below him lays in ruin. Most of the trees are felled, and even the few that still stand seem dead. Their foliage is a dull grey colour, their trunks a pale white. Even the grass is drained of colour, now having a pale silver tint. No life moves across the entirety of the plateau. Seeing the dead landscape, Molly can’t help but cry a little. As the tears swim in his vision, everything blurs.

Something grabs the back of his coat again, and he is pulled back once more.

Molly landed with a jolt on a cold stone floor. There were hands on his chest pressing hard, and hands on his cheeks caressing gently. A cool kiss pressed to his forehead, and the hands withdrew.

He blinked to awareness to see Caduceus kneeling at his side, and the rest of the Nein standing around his feet in a semicircle. His entire body ached, and when he tried to sit up he found he couldn’t. A groan escaped his lips.

Jester rushed forward with a waterskin, holding it to his lips. Realizing that his mouth was bone dry, he sipped at it greedily, not caring as water dripped down his face.

“I’m out of healing. I’m sorry, Molly…”

He waved a hand as he drained the waterskin, dismissing her apology. Setting the empty skin aside with a sigh, he cast a healing spell on himself. It wasn’t much, but it did dull the pain. He sagged back to the floor, horns clicking against the stone, and began to drift off to sleep from the exhaustion.

Caduceus roused him from the half-sleep when he spoke up. “How are you feeling? We lost you for a few minutes—”

“Yeah man, what the fuck were you thinking?” Beau interjected. Molly ignored her.

“—and we had to ask for divine help in bringing you back.” Caduceus finished, laying a hand on Molly’s shoulder.

Lost? But he hadn’t gone anywhere, had he? The dreams trickled back as Jester ranted about the Traveler in the background, but Molly focused on his memories. He’d been in the dark, then… oh. It all came flooding back. Molly rolled onto his stomach, still unable to sit up under his own power. Using his arms to support himself he began to search for his bag, which was nowhere in sight.

“Paper,” he croaked, mouth still feeling like it was full of cotton despite all the water he’d drank. A few people sprang to action at his request, searching the nearby tables. Of course it was Caleb who had some on his person, the bookworm — no, Molly had to focus. He grabbed at the paper and arranged it on the floor in front of him, smearing a bit of blood on one corner. While he wiped the hand on his shirt, a pen descended into view.

He grabbed the pen and began scribbling as fast as his unpracticed hand could accommodate him. Shaky letters began to cover the paper as he set down every detail of the dream that he could remember: of the descriptions of the monsters, of the route that he followed under the earth, of the places he saw. He filled a page quickly, and it was immediately replaced by a fresh sheet by a pale, freckled hand. Molly scribbled down the rest, slumping to the floor when he finished. Even just propping himself up on his elbows had been exhausting.

Caleb picked the papers up off the ground and scanned them quickly, blue eyes darting from left to right faster than Molly thought possible. When he finished he looked down at the tiefling, breath shaky.

“Mollymauk, did you dream this?”

Caduceus perked up at that. “What does it say? When I passed on, I received a vision from my goddess. Is this similar?” Caleb held the paper out for him, and the firbolg scrunched up his nose at the scrawled letters. When he didn’t move to take them, Caleb pulled the papers back.

“Mollymauk, are you still awake? May I read this out loud?” He knelt beside Molly, shaking his shoulder gently. Molly didn’t open his eyes, but he hummed his assent. Nodding, Caleb began to read the scribbled memories to the room. Jester gasped audibly at the descriptions, and by the fourth sentence someone came to scoop Molly up off the ground. He curled into the thick arms, knowing that it was Yasha who held him. She squeezed him several times as Caleb read, especially so when he read the part where Molly was nearly devoured by the larger worm.

“What. The. Fuck.” was all that was said when the reading was finished. It was Beau who said it, face aghast, perched on the arm of an armchair. Several moments passed in tense silence while the group collected their thoughts.

“So, let me get this straight: Quajath is burrowing through Exandria to free Torog, or has already done so? And they’re going to destroy an entire civilization together?”

“I believe the second vision has already come to pass,” said an unfamiliar voice. Molly looked up to see a handsome elf in long, bronze-gold robes speaking, inspecting the paper next to Caleb. Molly giggled, noticing how the man’s hairstyle and dress was similar to Essek’s. He looked like the sun, if Essek were the moon. He whispered the observation to Yasha and she smiled softly. Caduceus must have also heard, because his lips twitched upward as well.

“It mirrors the story of an elven civilization in the Cyrios mountains to the far north, destroyed during the Calamity. They were an enclave of worshipers of the Moonweaver, all but wiped out after the destruction of their home. Only recently have a few of their descendants been seen wandering the coast. As for the first vision… I will need to do research. It is alarming indeed to think that the Crawling King may already be unleashed.”

Beau was scribbling notes again. “Fuck, man. We need to get back to Zadash to do more research. This is bad.” Several of the Nein nodded at that, looking tense.

“Ah, about that…” Yussa hesitated. “It seems that Lady DeRogna’s absence has been noted. I have been in contact with a friend in the Empire, and, well… you may be wanted.” Beau groaned, but Caduceus and Caleb shrugged with resignation.

“Well, we knew it would happen eventually.”

“Yeah, but now we’re extra fucked. We just figured out that another demi-god might be breaking free within the borders of the Empire, and now we can’t step foot there. What are we going to do, just let Kamordah be destroyed?” Beau slumped into the armchair, swinging her legs over the side. Yussa cringed a little at that.

“If it presents a danger to the citizens of the Empire, then the crown will have to act,” said Caleb, wringing his hands nervously. “We just need to warn them somehow.” He bowed his head, turning to look at Yussa, who nodded.

“I can take care of that. The warning ought to come from someone who is not currently under suspicion of having killed a member of the Cerberus Assembly. I still have a rapport with Oremid Hass. Please give me the details.”

Caleb and Beau set about explaining the situation and copying notes for Yussa’s reference. Molly drifted off in Yasha’s arms, being woken what felt like a second after his eyes had closed by her giving him a gentle shake.

“Molly, we’re leaving now. But your tail is in my way.”

“What? Oh.” Molly blinked to awareness to find his tail snaked around Yasha’s thighs, preventing her from moving. “Sorry.” He brought it up to drape over her arm, removing the tripping hazard. “Do I have to walk?”

She chuckled. “No, it isn’t far. And you barely weigh a thing. Get some rest.” Humming his agreement, Molly nuzzled against her shoulder and closed his eyes. Rocked by her footsteps down and out of Tidepeak Tower, he quickly dozed off, only waking again when Yasha dropped him gently to the huge bed in one of the rooms at the Lavish Château and began to unlace his boots. Propped up against a pillow, he removed his horn jewelry and shirt mechanically as she pulled each boot free with a quiet pop.

“I’m not going anywhere near those,” she said, pointing at his trousers, “but you should take them off for bed. They’re still wet.” She threw a bundle of fabric at him, then left the room. Shaking the bundle open revealed a long nightshirt. Molly threw it over his head and began peeling himself out of his skin-tight pants before crawling under the covers. He had begun to doze off again when Yasha returned with a platter of food.

“Up,” she demanded, lifting him under the arms. “Eat something and then you can sleep.” A bun was forced into his hand, warm and heavy. Molly bit into it earnestly, suddenly feeling his hunger, and was pleasantly surprised to find it full of spiced… something. He didn’t really care what, to be honest, just that it was hot and filling. It was gone in four bites. He slumped back against the pillows, which were soft as clouds.

The door clicked open and snapped him back to a more lucid state. Realizing that she was leaving, he pouted. “Yasha, I don’t want to be alone tonight,” he mumbled with his eyes closed, voice pleading. She paused in the doorway.

“You won’t be,” she promised, then stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

A few minutes later the door opened again, filling the room for a moment with the dim light of the hallway lanterns. Boots tumbled to the floor and the mattress dipped. Molly rolled over and put an arm over the body next to his, having to scoot a bit to make contact on the over-large bed.

“G’night,” he slurred as he rubbed his nose against the warm back in front of him, and immediately fell asleep again.

He was so tired that he didn’t even notice the body next to his tense at the contact.

Molly woke the next morning to an empty bed and a ray of sunlight directly on his eyes. Groaning, he rolled to put a pillow over his face and block out the light. He still felt as if he had been hit by a cart, but at least the mental exhaustion was gone. Unable to sleep any more without a way to properly darken the room, he slipped from the sheets — silk, he noted with satisfaction — and dressed. His clothes from the previous day were folded in a basket by the door, clean and pressed. Slipping into the bare minimum considered respectable, he slunk downstairs, not even bothering to lace his shirt.

He found Beau at a table, drinking more of that delicious-smelling but vile-tasting stuff she called ‘coffee.’ He waved for a cup of his own to the waiter, who stepped into the kitchen and then came out with a silver carafe and a mug. Molly thanked them, then took a long swig of the beverage. It wasn’t as bad as the last time. Perhaps the Château staff did a better job of making it, or perhaps it was growing on him.

“So, Yasha sure gets up early these days. Is that your doing?” he asked, flipping through the newspaper on the table. His eyes were mostly drawn to the few woodblock illustrations, but these days he could also read headlines with ease. Nicodranas was a slow news city, it seemed, as none of the happenings were particularly exciting.

Beau blinked at him. “What are you talking about, dude?” He blinked back.

“Well, she was up before me, so I assumed—”

“She’s still in our room, unless you know something I don’t.”

“Your room? She was with me! When I woke up, she was gone… dear gods, who did I spoon last night?” The newspaper fell closed, forgotten.

Beau smirked at him. “Well I guess that explains why he ran out to ‘do some shopping’ before any of the stores are even open.” She raised her hands to emphasize the phrase with quotation marks. Behind her, Fjord and Caduceus descended the stairs.

That left one ‘he’ unaccounted for. Molly’s stomach flopped at the realization.

“Please don’t tell me I’ve gone and scared off our wizard for good.”

Beau waved a hand mid-sip. “Nah, if he survived the bathhouse incident, he can survive this.”

Fjord and Caduceus settled at the table. “What’s this about a bathhouse?”

Molly jumped to respond before Beau could reveal his transgression. “I was just thinking that now that we’ve settled everything with Uk’otoa, we ought to reward ourselves with a nice trip to the spa. What do you say?”

Caduceus hummed. “I think we’ve got time for that. Veth wanted to stay in town a few days anyway, to spend time with her family.”

Excitement flashed in Fjord’s eyes, though he kept his face neutral. “If everyone else is amenable to that, then I don’t see why not.”

Beau huffed. Not looking up from the pages of her book, she mumbled something in Undercommon. “He loves the spa so much that he has skin softer than a courtesan’s.” Molly choked, nearly snorting out his coffee. Ignoring Fjord’s confused look, she switched to Common. “Don’t you think we should start looking into this worm thing right away? It seems kind of really fucking important.”

“If we don’t give Veth at least one full day with her family, she might not come with us at all,” Caduceus mused. “Plus, Mollymauk should rest for a day or two. He’s been through a lot.”

“Okay, fine. You all stay here, but I’m going to get Caleb to send me to the Archive to do research. That is, if he ever comes back—ow!” Molly kicked her under the table, the top of his bare foot slapping against her calf.

“Why wouldn’t he come back?” Caduceus’ eyebrows lowered a touch, the way they did when he decided to analyze someone. Molly didn’t like it.

“Oh, you know how he gets when he’s got a pocket full of coin. He might get lost for days in a bookstore. You know, I’m going to go shopping as well, and maybe rescue him from forgetting about the real world. Have a lovely morning, everyone.” Molly downed the last of his coffee and started toward the door. Realizing he didn’t have any shoes on, he cursed and changed trajectory to run up the stairs. He only relaxed once he was out of sight.

How was he supposed to fix this? It had been an honest mistake, but given Caleb’s apparent reaction he might have been genuinely made uncomfortable. Molly’s usual means of apologizing would only serve to make things worse, as the last thing a skittish man like Caleb would want was more touching, which left Molly thinking about what other olive branches he could extend. What to give a wizard who never seemed to buy himself anything?

The idea came to him as he was lacing his boots, a task that took several minutes due to their height. Way back in Zadash, Caleb had spent every penny on paper and ink at Pumat’s at every chance he got. And judging by how thick his spellbook had gotten, his appetite for the stuff hadn’t lessened. Perhaps a bundle of it would be a suitable peace offering?

Thanks to a tip from a staff member, Molly exited the Château via a servant’s entrance and hit the streets of Nicodranas. The streets were nigh-deserted at the early hour, with bakeries just beginning to open their doors. The scent of fresh bread wafted from every direction.

Molly realized that in his embarrassment, he had completely neglected to eat breakfast. The coffee roiled in his stomach — Beau had been right to warn him about drinking it without eating. He stopped in at a bakery and bought a spiced fruit pie that was hot out of the oven, paying an entire gold despite its single silver price. “For whoever comes in hungry and without coin,” he insisted. The baker beamed at him, waving as he bowed back out the door.

By the time he managed to find a shop with anything like what he was looking for, most shops were open for business and his pie was long-since eaten. Nicodranas wasn’t a sprawling metropolis like Zadash and it didn’t have anything as extravagant as Pumat Sol’s, but some locals pointed Molly toward a bookstore with a small arcane section. The store was lined with bookcases far too close together to walk normally, let alone turn around in an aisle. Molly wrapped his tail around his waist to prevent catastrophe before entering.

He squeezed his way to the till, finding an elf with dark skin and wild curls hunched over a book. Molly rapped his nails on the counter rhythmically and the clerk jumped, looking up quickly and setting their book to the side. Once their shock had subsided, they gave him a wide smile.

“Hello! Can I help you?”

“I heard a rumor that you might have some of that wizarding paper and ink. I’m looking to buy.”

The clerk glanced at the scabbards hanging at his sides. “Just to verify, you want the supplies to transcribe arcane spells?”

“Mmhmm.” Molly pulled out a coinpurse — ever since the incident in Hupperdook, he hadn’t been satisfied with carrying everything in just one — and let it hit the counter with a dull thud. The clerk’s eyes widened.

“Ah, well, we do have that. How much were you looking to buy? We only have enough to transcribe a spell or two, depending on how intricate they are.”

“I’ll take it all. Just let me know how much I owe you.”

The clerk’s eyebrows shot up into their hair. “Alright,” they said, flipping through a ledger. “It looks like we’ve got five hundred gold’s worth, currently. Are you still…?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” said Molly, opening his coinpurse and beginning to count out platinum coins. “And is it possible to wrap that up somehow? Do you have any ribbon?”

Flustered, they opened drawers in the cabinet behind them and started withdrawing bottles of ink, as well as a few ribbons. “Err, the paper is in the back. I’ll just…” They darted through a door hidden behind a stack of books.

Molly finished counting coins and arranged the five stacks into a neat row, waiting for them to return. He took one of the ribbons and began absentmindedly weaving it into a bow with several loops, tying it off just as the store owner returned with an armful of neat blue boxes.

“Oh, we don’t even need to wrap that in anything! It looks lovely.” Molly took another ribbon and threaded his bow onto it, wrapping it around the top box from the stack. The telltale click-click-click of a lock spinning came from under the desk, then the clerk took the stacks of coins and put them into a safe out of view. Standing back up and pushing their hair out of their eyes, they smiled at Molly again.

“Let me at least pack up the ink for you.” One bag and some tissue paper later, Molly’s gift was complete.

“Thank you so much for your business!” they called as he shuffled sideways toward the exit, with the boxes balanced on the top of his head.

They didn’t end up going to the spa, as everyone was too caught up with their individual errands to get together for a trip. Caduceus and Jester sold many of their found treasures to a pawn shop in the Open Quay and came back with most of the place’s original stock, an eclectic mix of odd magical items. They got a magical stick that could grow several feet on command, a bottle that contained a smoke cloud — “do not open that in here,” Fjord had warned them — and a tiny jade carving of a boat that they insisted could turn into an actual boat if they wanted it to. When asked how big the boat would be, Jester just crossed her arms and sputtered defensively about it being ‘big enough.’

Caleb didn’t show up until after the rest of the group had eaten dinner. Most of them were up in Jester’s room, relaxing and playing a game that Jester called ‘two truths and a lie.’ Fjord was extremely good at the lying part, and Beau at the guessing. Molly spun his best bullshit for his turns, managing to trick the others more than once. Yasha was nice enough to not call out his lies — after all, she had been present for the vast majority of his life, and thus had an unfair advantage.

Beau had gone down for drinks and was the one to see the wizard arrive. She gave Molly a look and a head tilt toward the door to indicate that Caleb was back, and Molly excused himself from the game and padded into the hallway. Finding their room empty, Molly pulled out the gifts from under his side of the bed and went looking downstairs.

As usual, Caleb was in the corner, hunched up in a chair. Unlike usual, he was not reading, merely staring into the embers of the fire and stroking his cat. If not for the dark circles under the human’s eyes, Molly would have found the scene endearing.

Molly dropped the gift onto the bar before approaching Caleb, hoping he wouldn’t see it until the right moment. He padded across the floor in his bare feet, making no sound, and made it a mere six feet from Caleb before the wizard startled in his seat. He flinched when making eye contact with Molly, and Molly couldn’t help but feel hurt. Well, he had known this would be awkward. Time to get it over with.

“Mister Caleb.” Caleb did not look up. “It has come to my attention that we’re roommates while we’re here in Nicodranas.” The wizard’s lips pursed, giving him a grim look. “Now, I know that I’m not the best roommate. I realize that I may have accidentally crossed a boundary last night, and I’m here to apologize.”

“You do not need to apologize, Mollymauk. It was fine—”

“Ah, ah. You’re just saying that because you don’t want to have this conversation. It wasn’t fine. I didn’t ask, and I know you lost sleep because of it. So, you’re going to get an apology, and a promise.” Caleb made eye contact with him, then, eyes swimming with confusion. “I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll stick to my side of the bed, gods know those things are big enough for three, or even take the floor if it makes you more comfortable. And to show you that I really am sorry, I got you this…” Molly went to retrieve the gift.

“Mollymauk, you do not need to— I should have—” Molly dropped the stack of boxes and the little bag onto the table in front of Caleb. “—is this…?”

“Yes it is, and it’s all yours. No, you can’t refuse it. And I don’t want anything in return, except for you to get a good night’s sleep and stop blaming yourself for what happened. It was my sleepy brain that thought you were Yasha and clung on like an octopus. Which, by the way, Frumpkin makes a very cute octopus.”

Something unreadable flashed across Caleb’s face, just for a moment, before he broke eye contact to look at the bow on his gift. “Yasha? Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Thank you, Mollymauk.”

Satisfied with the resolution, Molly wished Caleb a good night and returned to their room. He did his nightly routine of removing his makeup and jewelry and praying over his swords that he had missed the night before. The prayer took on a different meaning now that the swords were actually granted to him by the Moonweaver, and this night especially felt important. He thanked Her for saving him the day before, for giving him the strength to save Caleb, and for the visions that She had shown him. Terrifying as they were, he finally felt that he had a direction, and for that he was thankful.

Thankfully, Molly didn’t end up sleeping on the floor like he’d offered. He and Caleb shared the bed, but he stayed respectfully to one side and woke with the sun in his eyes yet again. He should really tell the Château staff about that. Caleb was still deep in sleep, probably exhausted from the poor sleep the night before, so Molly dressed and slipped out without disturbing him. Gods knew he deserved the rest.

Caduceus was already in the dining room when Molly slipped down the stairs, having tea and toast. Molly waved for the same and joined him at the table, quickly being presented with a plate of grilled sourdough and a variety of spreads.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Caduceus, leaning on the table and resting his chin on his clasped hands. “After your experience the other day, you probably want to ask your goddess some questions.”

“Hmm?” Molly hummed through a mouth full of toast, confused. They had told him that it would probably be a while before he could learn the spell to commune with the Moonweaver, so he wasn’t sure what Caduceus was getting at.

“It wouldn’t be perfect, but we could try communing together. Maybe Melora can help pass the messages along. I just thought I’d offer, in case it was something you wanted to try.”

It was certainly tempting. Molly did have some questions — he wanted to know more than could possibly be answered by a couple of yes-or-no questions, but he would take what he could get. Quickly downing some tea to clear his throat, he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that would be great! Thanks for offering.”

Caduceus gave him a warm smile. “Well, there’s no better time than the early morning for this sort of thing. Nice and quiet. We’ll go after breakfast.”

The streets of Nicodranas were quiet and shrouded in mist in the early light of the morning, and Caduceus led Molly through the twisting streets toward the cliffs that lined the shore. The firbolg selected a spot near the foot of the lighthouse in the likeness of his god, where the grass was dotted with flowers and the view of the ocean was unobscured. They sat crosslegged on the ground with an incense burner and small offerings strewn between them.

“Before we begin, and while we’re in this safe place, I wanted to ask you if you’re doing alright. Death can be a harrowing experience.”

Molly hesitated. The visions had been unnerving, but in truth, he hadn’t even been aware of the fact that he’d died until the others had informed him. Relative to his first and second experiences of coming back, it had been gentle.

“At least I wasn’t covered in dirt this time,” he joked, and gave a nervous laugh. The ocean breeze picked up, blowing his curls into his eyes. “That was my first time waking up amongst friends, so it wasn’t all that bad.” Caduceus nodded but said nothing, keeping his gaze on Molly. The silence was unbearable, and Molly’s nervous impulse was to fill it.

“You know, I woke up alone the first time. Dirt in my eyes and my mouth and my hair. I barely remember it, but I remember the fear and the emptiness. Every moment between then and when I got myself killed I spent in a big group of people. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone. Waking up the second time was better, I was clean, and I had someone. But they were a stranger, and I still felt so alone and empty at first.” He shifted, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “Sometimes I dream about it.”

“Waking up in the dirt?”

Molly shook his head. “Being alone.”

A hand came to rest on his own. Caduceus’ hand dwarfed Molly’s, and the soft pressure was grounding.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. You have them. And me, if you’d like.”

Molly took a deep breath. “I would like that, Mister Clay. You’re a very good person, and I like being around you. But you have to promise me one thing.” He braced himself, resolved to asked the favour despite how it might be received. If there was anyone to ask this of, it was Caduceus.

“What’s that?”

“If I die again and you can’t bring me back, don’t leave me to rot in the ground. I don’t want to wake up alone again. Make it so I can never come back, okay?”

To his credit, Caduceus didn’t flinch. But there was sadness in his eyes. “I can agree to that. But hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“Hopefully,” Molly agreed. The silence hung a bit, but this time Molly did not itch to fill it, unburdened as he was. After a minute of quiet, it was Caduceus who broke the silence.

“I saw Her, you know. When we brought you back.”

Molly looked up from where he had been shredding bits of grass between his fingers. “Who? The Moonweaver?”

“Yeah. She looked so worried for you. She held you even as your breath returned, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such relief on someone’s face since the time that my mother found Clarabelle after she’d gotten lost in the Savalirwood on her own. I think She cares for you greatly.”

Molly reached up to touch his forehead, where the ghostly memory of a kiss lingered.

“Now, would you like to ask Her some questions?”

They lit the incense and began the ritual, Molly contributing a few crescent moon-shaped charms to the pile of offerings. They clasped hands, or rather, Molly clasped the tips of Caduceus’ long fingers with his own, much smaller hands. Caduceus led him in a breathing exercise, focusing on the sensation of the breaths coming and going to slip into a meditative state. Molly had difficulty with it; his mind had always run on overdrive, jumping from distraction to distraction, but eventually the sounds of the waves did bring him a sliver of tranquility.

“Is Quajath free?” he whispered, words dying on the wind.

No words came in response, nor any images, but emotion ran down Molly’s spine like a torrent of water. Dread, regret. No, but soon.

“Can it be killed?”

A warm radiance overtook him, reassuring at first, then flaring momentarily to a burning intensity. Just soon as it came, it was gone. Yes.

Molly hesitated, almost not wanting to ask his third question. But he had to know.

“Will I die again?”

There was… a hesitance. Molly could have sworn that he felt the sensation of a hand smoothing his hair, though it must have been the wind. The feeling he got was uncertainty, but hope. I do not know, but I hope not. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

Caduceus helped him stand — by the gods did his arse hurt from sitting on the rocky ground for so long — and they began threading the path back to the Château. Caduceus held this hand the entire way.

Chapter Text

The rest of the group was gathered around the table when Caduceus and Molly returned, arguing. Beau noticed them enter and nearly dragged Molly to the table, insisting that they have a “strategy meeting” despite the early hour. Even Veth was there, he realized as he took a seat at the table, spotting the halfling next to Caleb and whispering intently. Beau broke up the side conversations by thudding her fist on the table.

“Now that we’re all here: Caleb and I went to the Cobalt Soul to do some research yesterday—”

Fjord interrupted. “Are you sure that was a good idea now that we know the Cerberus Assembly wants us dead? I know you think you can keep a ‘low profile’ at the Archive in Zadash, but no offense, that’s the first place I’d look for you.”

Beau rolled her eyes. “Thanks, dad. I didn’t think of that at all.” She shook her head. “Anyway, as I was saying, we went to the Cobalt Soul in Port Damali , where we’re not wanted, and did some research on Quajath. Confirmed what we already knew, but Caleb managed to find this great book on the societies living in Eiselcross and we found a ton of good info there. Caleb?” She gestured to the wizard with her palm up, and he sighed before straightening and beginning to speak.

“Ja, so, there is a group of people who live on the island of Gelier — that is not the island we were on before, so we do not need to worry about Aeor things there — anyway, these people live in a cave and worship a piece of Quajath’s frozen body. They are friendly, but many who find them never return, choosing to stay to worship as well.”

“That sounds exactly like Vo,” said Jester, lacking most of her enthusiasm at the early hour.

“It does,” agreed Fjord. “And I don’t like it. If we go, we’re stocking up on supplies for Greater Restoration before we leave. We don’t want any repeats of what started to happen on Rumblecusp.”

Caleb nodded. “That is a good idea. I think if we are going to intercept Quajath before it can get free, this is the place to go. I was able to memorize a map of the area. It was not detailed, but it will help.”

“So, can we bamf there?”

Caleb’s face fell. “Ah, no. That is the bad news. I do not know if the same wild magics that affected the other side of Eiselcross also apply on Gelier, but even if they do not it would be a dangerous jump. The chance of failure is high when going somewhere I have never seen. It is much safer to jump to Icehaven and book passage from there, like we did the first time we visited Eiselcross.”

Several people groaned. From their stories of their first trip to Eiselcross, the journey through the ice was far from glamorous at best, and deathly dangerous at worst. Molly wondered if his winter gear would be enough.

Jester looked thoughtful. “That’s in the Empire though, right Caleb? Are we going to have to worry about people seeing us?”

“Ja, it is. I will disguise us, but we should also not talk to too many people. The Empire does not have so much sway there, but that does not mean that people cannot be bought.”

“So, when are we going?” Veth crossed her arms. “I want to get this over with so we can finally take a real vacation when no more evil gods are threatening to destroy everything. I just want a week with my family. Consecutively,” she added when Beau opened her mouth to retort.

“Well, as soon as we get supplies, I suppose. We will need food for the journey again, as well as spell components. There will be no trade once we leave Icehaven.”

Coming to a consensus, the group broke to make final purchases for the trip. That meant buying out almost all of the diamonds in Nicodranas, both for dust and for use for revivification spells. Molly added one to his own components, a safeguard that would hopefully never be needed. Caduceus also purchased the entire stock of incense at the local herbalist, as well as all their healing potions. Molly laughed at how easily their little troupe disrupted the entire economy of this little city. It would probably be months before the shops could rebuild their stocks. The jewelers in particular had recognized them, meaning that this was probably a habit.

Then they reconvened and prepared to travel once again. They had had so little time to rest and recuperate, and already they were going to be back on the road. It made Molly long for the days where they had been forced to travel slowly, back before they were entangled in the affairs of gods and their thrall. The Harvest Close festival in Zadash felt a lifetime away, and in a way, it was.

Veth said a tender goodbye to her family in the living room of the little halfling-sized apartment they had down the street from the Château, and Molly couldn’t help but feel terrible for pulling her from them once again. Yeza was a very patient and understanding man, but it seemed like even his tolerance of her absences was wearing thin. Luc was growing rapidly, and while he looked up to his mother, he seemed to think of her as more of a hero than a parent. Every time that he oohed and aahed at one of her stories, Molly could see Yeza’s smile falter just a bit. He resolved to make sure that she came back to them for a good long spell this time.

With a whoosh they disappeared from the Brenatto living room, holding hands in a circle once again. Caleb had warned them that this form of travel was less precise than using circles, so Molly braced himself for a repeat of the last time they had done it, but before casting Caleb had withdrawn a small bundle labeled ‘Icehaven.’ It contained only a small rock, but apparently that was all it took to ensure that the spell brought them to the right place without any mishaps. They landed on the outskirts of town, disguises already in place.

Icehaven was hell. There were nine of them, the hells, and Molly figured that one of them must be icy, to torture people who hated the cold. This was his own personal brand of hell, cold and damp and full of grumpy people. Molly had tagged along with Fjord to secure the transportation, and so far they had come up empty-handed. No ships were willing to go to such a remote location without the prospect of being able to get some sort of return cargo, and the one captain who did seem interested was immediately turned off when they mentioned that he might have to wait at shore for them to return. It was time to change tactics.

The disguise that Caleb had chosen for Molly was excellent, if you were trying to blend in. And since that wasn’t working, Molly decided to go for a different angle. Ducking into a woodshed, he focused on the form he wanted to take with the hat he’d purchased from Pumat. Knowing that the disguise could fail if it was too different from his actual shape, he changed from Caleb’s drab human glamour to one closer to his actual form. Tiefling, but a common red colour with yellow eyes, and an outfit very similar to his own. He added skirts under the coat, which, really, the thing was probably designed for, and a few more feminine touches where they mattered most. He was going for something attractive, with an air of importance.

When he stepped back up to Fjord, the man nearly had a heart attack. “I thought you were Marion,” he said, rubbing his flushed face. Molly just cackled.

“Come now, let me try the next one. I think I’ve got a way to get what we want.”

They approached a different dock than where they had started, and Molly selected one of the ships that looked to be unloading rather than loading. He sauntered up to the gangplank, swaying no more than usual, though the movement was accentuated somewhat by the illusion of skirts. A few dockworkers’ heads turned as he passed.

“Say, darling, is your captain around? I have some business to propose to them.” The young boy with the manifest lowered his papers to look up at Molly, eyes going wide when they made eye contact. Molly kept a sly smile on his face, the kind that he knew worked on most people who lacked self-confidence. As expected, the boy’s jaw hung a bit before he answered.

“Yes, ma’am, Captain Sadiq is on deck. Right this way.” He waited until the gangplank was clear, then lead Molly up to the deck of the ship. Molly waved to Fjord, who followed a few paces behind.

The captain was a short, thick man with an equally short, thick beard. He could have been a tall dwarf or a short human, but Molly couldn’t tell. Luckily, unlike many of the previous captains they’d met, he wasn’t frowning or barking orders. Perhaps Molly could work with this. He approached with a smile.

“Captain Sadiq, I’m told? My name is Mollymauk Fletching, or Molly to my friends. Me and my expedition are in need of transportation, are you available for hire?”

Sadiq looked up from his work, appraising Molly with a stern face. But quickly he softened, smiling genially in a way that reached his eyes. Molly could see that the man smiled often, based on the lines on his face, and knew right away that he was in.

“Indeed we are, ma’am. Where are you looking to go?”

“Gelier, I’m afraid. Not as glamorous as the main island, I know, but we have a tip on an unspoiled ruin there and I just have to check it out.” Molly saw a spark of interest in the man’s eyes, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “Ever heard of the Cognouza?”

“I can’t say I have.”

Fjord stepped up to the task, seeing where this was going. It was a good thing the man was such a good actor, as it really helped sell the con when the two of them could play off each other like everything they said was real. “It was a district in Aeor, similar to the Trispires in Zadash or the Candles in Rexxentrum. It was where their council of archmages lived and worked, who were known as the Somnovem.”

“Exactly,” Molly purred. “I’ll bet there will be plenty of work going forward ferrying relics back and forth from there to here. Are you in?”

The captain tried to appear thoughtful, rubbing at his chin and leaning back slightly, but Molly could see the excitement. Hook and line, then. Time for the sinker.

“How much are you paying for this journey?” the man asked, and Molly grinned. Time to haggle.

They went back to the group with the good news, Molly preening shamelessly as Fjord told them how he’d made the deal.

“The scariest part about this is that all it took was a skirt to make everyone believe that you’re a girl,” said Beau, gesturing vaguely at his illusory appearance.

“Maybe I am one,” he retorted, and she sputtered. “It would do you some good to keep an open mind. And unless you want to get dropped off on Gelier with no ride home, you’d better remember it as long as we’re on that ship. I don’t think that Captain Sadiq would take well to finding out he’d been lied to.”

He’d cornered her. Beau crossed her arms and slumped into her chair, grumbling under her breath.

“So, for the next several days, I’m Molly Fletching, you are all my employees, we’re en route to a little chunk of Aeor called the Cognouza, and I’d better not hear a peep of complaint about it,” he instructed. “Also, call me ‘she,’ or you’re going to confuse the hells out of that crew.”

Everyone agreed readily except Beau, who reluctantly relented after a meaningful glare from Yasha, and they packed up to disembark.

The ship wasn’t so bad, at least with them being able to stay in Caleb’s tower each night. The food there was infinitely better than anything the ship’s cook could offer, and the tower didn’t rock with every wave or gust of wind.

Unfortunately, bad weather delayed them day after day. The group was jumpy on the water —especially Fjord — every crack of the ice and splash of the water making them look over the edge of the ship for the minions of Uk’otoa that they were sure were coming for them. But none came. This was a good sign: Caleb said that it probably meant that they had properly sealed him away, releasing his hold over his former thralls. Without power bestowed to them, they were unlikely to seek revenge.

When they finally reached Gelier, the relief was palpable. Everyone was exhausted from the anticipation, and growing more and more tired of hiding their faces and their intentions. Molly had pulled long cons before, but they were pushing ten days of him living under a constant illusion, pretending to be the rich expedition leader that he’d presented to the captain. It was a relief to step onto land and out of sight, finally dropping the pretense.

As for the land, it was truly breathtaking. It was an environment completely alien to anything Molly had ever seen: treeless, white, and glittering. The ice crystals refracted the sun, covering the landscape in a sparkling sheen that immediately began to blind him. He squinted, probably making a wholly unflattering face, but at least everyone else was too blinded to see it.

Something pressed into his hand, but his eyes burned when he tried to look at it. “What is this?” he asked of the person in front of him, feeling at the object. It was something long and thin, indented, with straps at either end. Hands joined his and pulled the object away. He jumped when something touched his face, but when he opened his eyes, the light was bearable. Someone was tying a sort of goggles around his head, with only thin slits to see through. His visibility was greatly reduced, but at least he could see.

“I am sorry, Mollymauk. I forgot that your darkvision would make the sun here very painful. These will protect your eyes.” Caleb finished tying and stepped out from behind him, appearing in his field of vision wearing a similar pair. The goggles looked very strange on him, but their function was more important. It was a bright day, and thus also very cold, so Molly pulled his fur-lined hood over his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, already shivering.

“Thanks for thinking of me, Mister Caleb,” he purred as the others finished applying their goggles and began to set out. As he began to turn to leave, Caleb caught his elbow.

“I know you are also very susceptible to the cold. Please take this.” Caleb held out a small rod, giving it a twist before handing it off. Even through his thick gloves, Molly could feel warmth radiating off it. It was a thoughtful gesture, the climate here was bound to make anyone feel cold — except perhaps Jester, who seemed at home in the snow even with a coat that didn’t properly cover anything. But Caleb would certainly be giving something up by giving the rod to Molly, and Molly couldn’t help but feel like the act was more of an act of self-denial than of selflessness. Thinking quickly, he slipped it in one of Caleb’s overlarge pockets and grabbed the wizard’s hand, slipping both his and Molly’s own into the pocket to benefit from the warmth.

“There we go, now we can both benefit,” he sang cheerfully, pulling the wizard after the others. “Let me know when you want to change sides.” It was a shame he couldn’t see Caleb’s face. The goggles limited his peripheral vision, so he couldn’t steal sneaky glances like usual. But if Caleb’s stammering was any indication, he was flustered.

It was a little awkward walking with one hand in someone else’s pocket, but that hand was much warmer than his other one and he valued that more than the ease of walking. “This is okay, right?” Molly asked as they trudged through the snow. Caleb’s hand twitched a little in Molly’s, gripping tighter for just a moment.

Caleb’s answer was so quiet that Molly almost missed it. “Ja, it…” He trailed off.

They stayed like that until Molly’s other hand began to lose circulation. When he went to slip his hand from Caleb’s pocket, he found the wizard clinging on with a light grip. “It’s okay, love, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised as he danced around to Caleb’s other side. With the handwarmer moved to Caleb’s opposite pocket, they held hands again.

The tower was a welcome relief at the end of the day, immediately bringing the blood back to Molly’s face. He rubbed the tip of his tail as they waited for dinner to arrive, trying to warm it up. He decided that the next day he would keep it coiled around him under his coat, even if it did impact his balance. Frostbite was not something he wanted to risk.

Their journey continued in much the same way for the next few days as they crossed the tundra, mostly quiet except for the occasional attack from a creature that didn’t listen to Caduceus’ routine warning of “you really don’t want to do that.” By the third day, Caleb was actually initiating the handholding in the morning. Veth had noticed the two of them walking together and given Molly an intent look one day while walking, but if anyone else had noticed, they said nothing.

It was nice, if he were honest. The routine, the closeness, all of it. A little calm before the storm that he knew they were quickly approaching. They apparently only had one more day before they reached the so-called ‘Tomb of the Worm,’ so he decided to enjoy it while it lasted. He was stripping down to his base layers in his room on third night, thinking about looking for the wizard in the library when the door opened with a soft click.

His eyes flew to it immediately, as he had been facing it as he hopped out of his boots and furs, leaning on a chaise longue. Seeing him midway out of a pair of trousers, the intruder screeched. Veth.

“Why are you undressing in your sitting room, pervert?!” she accused, covering her eyes and slamming the door closed behind her.

“I’m just taking off my thermal layers! What are you doing waltzing in here without knocking, anyway?” he shot back, not stopping shimmying out of the fur-lined pants he had on over his tights. Still not looking at him, Veth sighed deeply.

“I came to ask what your intentions are with my boy.” There were a lot of different emotions in her voice: irritation, confusion, even a bit of sadness. Molly couldn’t help but be a bit confused himself. He placed his hands on his hips, now dressed down to his shirt and tights.

“What do you mean, my intentions? I’ve been nothing but nice to him these past months, and I’m not buttering him up for anything. Being good to my friends is just what I do.”

“You see? That, there. That’s the problem. I’ve been watching you lead him on for days, and back in Nicodranas I heard about the incident. You’re giving him whiplash!” Veth threw her arms up, exasperated.

Molly floundered. “I— what? What are you talking about?”

“You know what you did. Cuddling him and then saying that you didn’t mean it, buying him things but then maintaining a distance, holding his hand but insisting it’s ‘just for warmth.’ Your signals are more mixed than those fancy drinks they make at the Lavish Château in the shaker thing.” She crossed her arms and stared at him, analyzing. He was confounded, unable to come up with a response, hyperanalyzing every interaction from the last month at maximum speed.

“So, what do you want with him? Every time that he manages to convince himself that you’re just being a good friend, you go and do something to give the poor man another internal crisis. I want it to stop. If you decide to romance him, then fine — gods know he deserves some love — but be clear about it.”

“I… I didn’t know I was doing that to him,” Molly said simply, dropping his head to stare at the floor. The last thing he had wanted to do was make the man feel uncomfortable. “I was just trying to be nice to him, be a good friend. But I guess the way I act with my friends isn’t the same as other people.”

Veth snorted at that. “You can say that again. I certainly never spooned a friend when I was young. Well, except Yeza, but look where we ended up.”

“I won’t lie, I do have an interest in him. But I always held back because it felt like he didn’t want it.”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, I’ve been with Caleb long enough to know that when he doesn’t want things, he does something about them. What he’s doing right now is denying himself something he wants, the same way he did with Essek before it came out that the man was a spineless traitor more interested in his own power than the wellbeing of an entire continent. The way he looks at you sometimes… it’s the same way he used to look at books back before we could afford them. But he’s been through a lot, and he never lets himself have things he wants. So unless you act on it, no one will.”

“What is this, your blessing?”

“No, Caleb can be with anyone he wants. This is my first and only warning: stop playing with my boy’s heart, or I’ll kill you.” Her tone was the same as when she joked, but her face was deathly serious. Molly swallowed hard, looking for the right words.

“I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

“Good boy. Or, whatever you are.” She frowned at him, scanning him from top to bottom.

“Just Molly. Or, ‘your fabulousness,’ if you’re feeling formal.”

“Don’t make me change my mind about this,” she groaned, her voice warning, then she slipped out the door.

Molly wanted to talk to Caleb, he really did. But there was really no privacy with this group besides one’s private rooms in the tower, and it did seem a little invasive to barge into Caleb’s space like that. Besides, it would project the wrong idea. No moment arose before they left the tower the next morning, and once they were out in the tundra the perceptive eyes and ears of the rest of the Nein would be upon them. So Molly resolved to do it right after they’d dealt with this last demigod once and for all and settled down for that vacation Veth had talked about. It would be the right time, Molly told himself.

They saw the first signs of the village in midafternoon, when the sun was behind them and casting long shadows from their feet. Most of it turned out to be underground — or rather, under ice — built into a network of caves that looked carved. The buildings themselves were made out of bricks of packed snow or of animal skins draped over wood or bone, all small and austere. The area was silent as a grave, save for the wind and the gentle flapping of the tents.

“Something’s not right,” Caduceus’ voice rumbled over the wind. “This is just like at the Menagerie. Something has happened to the people.”

Molly couldn’t help but agree: it wasn’t right. The village seemed abandoned. Not even residual smoke could be smelled, and without fires to warm them, humanoid life couldn’t exist here. They entered the area slowly, looking for signs of a scuffle. But they found none.

Searching the buildings revealed that the villagers had left things behind. They didn’t appear to have many possessions in the first place, but spare clothes and tools were left in their homes and their storage tents. Among them were strange shoes with large netted frames that Caleb deduced were used to walk on the top of the snow, leading them to believe that the villagers had not walked off into the tundra. Besides, there was no sign of a mass exodus through the snow. They kept searching.

Every building was empty except the storehouses, which were full of meat. All meat, with nary a vegetable or grain in sight, save for some dried red fruit that looked more like seeds and skin than anything else. The meat itself was all the same strange grey kind, not from any animal that Yasha could identify, and lacking the distinct cuts that one was used to seeing. It was all sectioned off in neat cubes, and had an extremely unappealing texture when poked with a dagger. They stayed well away from it.

The sky was beginning to turn pink when they finally found something. First, a massive pit, then a hut near the back of the village, deep into the cave, was exuding a faint smell. Whatever was in there had powerful enough of an odor to be detectable even in the subzero temperatures, which bore investigating. Still, none of them wanted to be the one to do it, so they pointed silently at one another to try to get someone to take a look inside. The most fingers pointed to Veth and Molly, so they played a game of boulder-parchment-shears to see who would be the one to investigate. Veth threw her head back in a silent groan when Molly beat her shears with his boulder, then unholstered her crossbow and pulled the flap of a door aside with a mage hand.

Crouched at the entrance, Molly could see a pallet of furs on the far side of the hut with someone laying in it. There were also piles of bundles around the bed, but he couldn’t tell what was inside from this distance. Veth crouched and walked in, the only one small enough to do so without getting on her hands and knees, and approached the bed. She gave a sharp poke to the pile of furs with the crossbow, but there was no reaction. “I think they’re dead,” she whispered.

“Why would they stay if everyone else left?”

“Hells if I know,” she hissed, then began pulling back furs. “He looks kind of old.”

The smell intensified as the furs were drawn back — not a stench of decay, as there was no decay in a place this cold, but one of excrement. Veth holstered her crossbow and pinched her nose with one hand as she unearthed the hut’s occupant, who turned out to be a middle-aged human. Why he had been left behind was evident: his leg was broken, tied to a splint. He couldn’t have walked, and carrying him would have slowed the group down.

They dragged the body out on a fur and Caduceus burned some incense and cast a spell. The body shuddered with false life, sitting up and staring at the cleric with eyes of pale blue light. “Got any questions? We’ve got five,” said Caduceus, turning to the others.

Fjord started counting off on his fingers. “Where did the village go, where is this worm thing you worship…”

“And what’s with this meat?” added Yasha, picking up a cube of the gelatinous stuff from a bundle that had been in the man’s hand when he had died. It fell to the ground with a plop, flopping over and jiggling despite the low temperature. Molly gagged a little. It was disgusting.

“Alright.” Caduceus turned back to the partially-animated corpse. “Where did the rest of your clan go?”

The corpse’s jaw moved in a mockery of speech, the voice it was able to summon a breathy rasp. “They followed the Provider. I could not join them.”

“The Provider?” asked Beau, her face pinching in confusion. She was poised with pencil and notebook in hand, ready to scribble down whatever else they learned.

“Who is the Provider?” asked Caduceus, and the corpse spoke again.

“He is the eternal one, the one who gives food and strength and prosperity. He sacrifices himself each day for our benefit, and in return we work to free him from his prison.”

Well, that sounded like Quajath. “That explains the meat,” Yasha said softly, wrinkling her nose and standing with her arms crossed.

Caduceus went off the script, following the narrative that the corpse was providing. “Did you manage to free the Provider?”

“Yes,” the corpse hissed. “After years of work, the Chosen few managed to free the Provider from his imprisonment.”

“Do you know where they were going?”

“Wherever the Provider takes them.” Behind them, Fjord sighed.

Caduceus’ final question wasn’t one that would help them in any way, but Molly couldn’t think of any other question that would have given a remotely useful answer anyway. “What are your funeral rites?” the cleric asked, wrapping up his now-empty incense holder and stowing it in his pack.

The corpse gave them one last answer before the light faded from its eyes and it fell back against the furs.

“Burn me.”

And they did, dragging the body out to the open air so as not to overwhelm the cave with smoke. Arcane fire did the work quickly, burning away the flesh and cracking the bone. They stared as the flames consumed it, nobody daring to speak at first.

“Well, this sucks,” said Jester, finally.

“Yup,” agreed Veth. “What now?”

“Let’s worry about that in the morning,” said Caduceus, already trying to corral them toward the cave. The sun was fully behind the horizon now, and the temperature was rapidly dropping. “We’ve been up a long time, and we’re all exhausted. We’re not going to go anywhere tonight, so let’s do the planning tomorrow when we’re all rested and at our best.” Nobody could argue with him, really. They were all too tired, both physically and emotionally. Gathering just inside the mouth of the cave, they huddled together and watched Caleb conjure up the tower with his wand and other little components.

Caleb summoned the tower and everyone went inside, shoulders slumped and head bowed in defeat. Molly watched them go, the doorway shimmering in midair like a mirage, but did not enter. He sat down in the snow and watched the moon come up, the occasional aurora dancing across the clear sky. It should have felt peaceful and reassuring, a sign from the Moonweaver as many would call it, but instead it just brought a knot to his throat. He tried to swallow it down but found he couldn’t, and his eyes burned with more than just cold.

For a while, he just breathed. Heavily, just on the verge of tears, but still just barely under control. He timed his breaths like Clarabelle had taught him and slowly his emotions receded back to a manageable level. Still, he just sat there in the snow, legs getting soggy and cold.

He felt like he needed to be alone with this failure, at least until he was able to put on a brave face for the others. Jester especially needed that from him, as she looked to him as an indicator of whether or not things were alright. Her happiness was fragile, and he didn’t want to be the one to break it this night. So he reflected on this failure on his own, under the taunting movement of the aurora.

Where could they have done better? The weather on the journey here was certainly out of their control, but could they have left earlier? Procured a guide in Icehaven to help them traverse the tundra more quickly? Would it have been enough?

Boots crunched in the snow behind him, but Molly did not turn to look. If they were dangerous, he mused, one of those gods-damned eyes on his body probably would have warned him. Damn them and their usefulness. He wished they would just disappear, or better yet, never have existed in the first place. The back of his neck tingled, and he felt an enticing itch to just tap into whatever power laid there. He knew that someone stood behind him, and somehow he also knew that he had the power to look without looking. Bile rose in his mouth and he shoved the temptation away.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb’s voice barely reached him, softened by the snow. Molly did not respond. He didn’t trust his voice. Instead he raised a hand and waved, not looking back. He trusted Caleb to see.

The snow crunched again as Caleb approached, settling a step behind Molly and to his right. “Mollymauk, you must come inside. You will freeze to death out here.”

Molly was cold. He’d lost track of how long he’d been sitting there, between the time it took to calm his breathing and the time had spent in introspection. Still, he didn’t feel ready to face the others just yet. Especially not in the light. He shook his head, not moving his gaze from the horizon.

Caleb hesitated a moment before stepping to his side and sitting down. They were knee to knee, blessedly not facing each other, though Molly assumed that Caleb also preferred it that way. The wizard put a hand into his pocket and retrieved the rod, giving it a twist so that it began to glow with arcane warmth. Then he slowly leaned over and took Molly’s hands from where they sat limply in his lap, wrapping them around the rod and covering them with his own mittened hands. Molly’s heart tore a little, remembering his other failure and his promise to Veth. The knot in his throat returned in force.

Molly pulled one hand free from Caleb’s grasp, giving it a quick squeeze to reassure him that it would come right back. He made a fist with it and rubbed a circle over his chest, the sign for ‘sorry.’ Caleb watched the movement but did not seem to understand, so Molly dropped his hand back down to his lap with disappointment.

“I do not— um, one moment.” Caleb shoved a hand into a pocket and retrieved something, sprinkling a pinch of dust in the air which disappeared with a shimmer. Then he retrieved a bead and quickly set up a dome — something Molly had never seen him cast without taking the time for a ritual — making it completely transparent. If not for the sudden warmth around them, there would be no way to know that the spell was there.

“You may sign now, if you’d like,” Caleb whispered, still holding one of Molly’s hands in his. He seemed to notice this belatedly, and he gently removed it back to the safety of his own lap, the pretense of needing to share warmth gone. Molly nodded, then signed ‘sorry’ again. This time Caleb did understand. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he insisted.

Signing wasn’t the same as speaking, and Molly wasn’t the best at it, but it was all that he could do in the moment. Knowing that he could at least roughly get his point across, he started signing to Caleb in earnest.

Yes. I messed up.

Caleb looked almost stricken. “No, Molly, you did not. You could not have known that they would not be here, you—”

Molly started signing before he could finish. No, not that. That was just bad luck.

“Then… what do you mean?”

He struggled to put the words together, not knowing how to say it without sounding like this was all about himself. With you. I’ve been— he searched for the right sign, biting his lip. —not communicating. Acting funny. Being confusing. When Caleb’s eyes flicked up from his hands, the intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming. Though he was very good at not showing his emotions when he didn’t want to, Molly could almost feel his flight instinct empathically. This was not what he wanted at all.

My sorry is for that. I want to fix it. He picked up Caleb’s hand and squeezed it before placing it back on his knee to sign again. I like being close. Do you?

Caleb nodded, swallowing dryly. “I do,” he rasped.

If you want to, I would like to be closer.

Molly could see the small panic attack unfolding behind the wizard’s eyes as they flicked rapidly between his hands and his eyes as he spoke. Breathe, please, he pleaded, and Caleb took a long breath through his nose.

“Mollymauk, you do not— I am not—” Molly put a hand on his forearm, stilling the gentle shaking there.

Caleb, Molly said, spelling it out slowly. I like you. Do you not want me to? Caleb’s breath rasped through his chest.

“You do not know what I have done,” he whispered. “You would not if you did.”

I don’t care, Molly replied, his movements sharp and dismissive. I can see you regret it. That’s enough. You told me you believe in second starts. Why not for you?

That was as much as Caleb could hold back. Small sobs rocked him then, and he hid his face in his hands. Molly slipped an arm around him and held him gently, waiting for the moment to pass. Finally, the wizard was able to speak again.

“I… need time.”

Okay. I can wait.

“Thank you, Molly. For telling me.”

It was only fair to you.

Caleb nodded, averting his gaze, and stood.

“Please come inside soon,” he said with a sense of finality, and he pressed the handwarmer into Molly’s hands once more. Then he retreated, and the cold air set in around Molly again.

Chapter Text

Molly slept poorly that night, twisting and turning in his sheets as fever dreams haunted him. As was often the case, he dreamed of floating in a void without end, but unlike the previous dreams he felt watched. No matter where he turned, he could not see his observer. In desperation, he pulled at the power he knew one of the eyes on his body held, lighting it with a dull red glow.

Lights appeared around him as the enhanced sight took effect. Red eyes, moving in a chaotic pattern around him in the void. He looked into one and it looked back into him, scanning his soul and leaving him feeling naked and afraid. Questions poured into his mind without words, overflowing his consciousness with sensation and emotion. Overwhelmed, he cried out and woke with a start.

He sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Releasing his death grip on the linens, he found he had dug holes through the sheets with his nails. With a shudder, he stood and walked straight into the steaming bath, chasing the cold from his bones and wrapping him in a hot embrace.

It was just a dream, he told himself as he scrubbed the sweat from his skin. Just an incredibly vivid dream. Nothing to worry about.

Then why did it feel so damned familiar?

Molly shot out of the water and dried off in a rush, grabbing his journal and moving to the sitting room to record his dreams as he did every morning. Flipping through the pages to find the next blank one on which to write, several words jumped out at him from the previous pages. Floating. Void. Sea. He pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to add another problem to his overflowing plate. He couldn’t deal with this at the same time as Quajath. Better to put it down on paper for later.

Still, he knew it meant something, and that scared him. The red eye on the back of his right hand taunted him as he wrote, reminding him of all of his attempts to remove the malevolent marks. He’d tried it all, when he was new. Knives, fire, caustic. When they would be removed from his skin, he’d tried to drown them with ink, but that didn’t penetrate any more than the blades had. His last resort was to hide them, masking them in a smattering of other tattoos so that he could forget they were there. At least, until they started doing things.

It had been getting worse lately. Since that first time in Uk’otoa’s temple that the power had manifested he had been able to feel the tickle of power more and more. He shoved it away every time, but how long until he couldn’t? It felt like the temptations were getting more insistent with time.

As he finished writing out the record of the night’s dreams, Molly resolved to have someone inspect the eyes, frightening as the idea was. Perhaps Caleb could learn something with that identification spell of his. Perhaps a strong enough caster could banish them somehow. All Molly knew is that he wanted them gone.

When he finally came down for breakfast, everyone else was already awake and arguing. He could hear their voices echoing through the tower as he floated down from his room, discussing what their next move should be.

“We could follow their trail like we did to rescue Yeza,” Jester suggested.

“There’s no way we’ll catch up with them. Worms are fast, and they have a head start of at least a couple days. We need to cut them off somewhere,” Beau countered.

Fjord came to Jester’s defense. “But we have no idea where they’re going!”

Molly stepped into the dining room. “Well, we do have an idea of where they’re going, just not where it is, exactly. Somewhere deep underground, where the veil between the realms is thin, with a lot of blue crystal and black glass and bone. Any way to find out where that is?” He grabbed a plate and started piling it up with pancakes.

“Maybe the Bright Queen would know,” Jester said mid-bite into a poppyseed muffin. “She’s from the Underdark, right?”

Beau scoffed. “Yeah, like eight hundred years ago or something like that. She probably doesn’t remember, or a lot changes in eight hundred years. We need someone with more recent experience.”

“They probably have someone who would know.” Jester wiped the crumbs from her hands and pulled out a wire, casting before anyone could object. “Hey, Essek. Do you know anyone who is an expert on the Underdark? It’s super important. Like, a Betrayer God might get let out important.”

That was… actually surprisingly articulate, for Jester.

“Jess, you can’t just tell Essek about everything. The guy can’t be trusted.”

“I didn’t tell him anything. And you gave him a powerful magic item that he could have used to let Uk’otoa out, so you must think he can be kind of trusted, you know? Oh—” Jester pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling, listening to the reply. “He says that the Dynasty is more concerned with matters above the ground, blah blah blah. Okay, who else can we ask?”

“We don’t have many allies these days,” said Fjord, regretfully. “Yussa has contacts, but other than that, there’s just the Cobalt Soul.”

Jester waved two fingers in the air. “Okay, well, I’ve got two more Sending spells.”

Beau snatched the wire out of Jester’s hand. “Let’s all agree on who we’re gonna call and what we’re gonna say first, okay?”

Caleb spoke up from the far end of the table. He had been avoiding eye contact for the entire conversation, and even while speaking did not look up from his plate. “Yussa has contacts on both Wildemount and Tal’Dorei. He has a copy of the full description of the place we are looking for. We should tell him that Quajath is free and that time is of the essence. He can contact us if he finds anything. It will be much harder to explain to the Cobalt Soul in twenty five words.”

Nobody disagreed with that, so Beau returned Jester’s wire and the cleric sent a message to Yussa highlighting the importance of finding Quajath’s destination. She also read a coded message that Beau had written out to the Cobalt Soul, making maximum use of the words available. When the message was sent, she scoffed at the paper. “Man, who even can understand this? It’s like you took out all the connector words.”

“They’ll understand, Jess.”

“So, how are we getting out of here?” Molly interjected. “As you say, time is of the essence. Can we teleport?”

Blessedly, Caleb made eye contact with him. “Ah, no. I do not know if it is safe. We should wait until we are at least a day away from the island on the ship before trying, unless we want to find out what happens when one tries to teleport here.”

Several of them groaned at that, not looking forward to trekking through the snow for another four days. Still, it couldn’t be avoided, so soon enough they were all back in the knee-deep snow. Molly hoped that Caleb would come share a pocket with him again but the wizard made no such move, so Molly tucked the handwarmer rod and his hands into his sleeves and followed behind Yasha. When there was headwind, she served as a windbreak.

Frustration fueled them and they made good time back to the ship. Word of them had spread among the denizens of the area, perhaps, for they were not accosted by nearly as many minor worms or beasts this time. Or perhaps they had just thinned the population on their first time through. Molly experimented with a few different spells, testing how they melded with his fighting style. There were a few false starts, but he did find a few combinations he liked.

Soon enough they could see the shore in the distance, their chartered ship still anchored nearby. They took a moment to set up their disguises again, and Molly did a few exercises to help him slip into character.

“So, what are we going to tell them? That we were successful, or no?”

“Sure. Caleb’s got some weird thing we found in a ruin he can show them if they ask to see something. Otherwise we can just leave it at that.”

“And what’s our excuse for disappearing in the middle of the trip back?”

“Places to be, people to collect. You know. We’ll just be like ‘see you back in Icehaven!’ and then never show up. It’s not like we used our real faces or names, right?”

Molly felt a little bad leaving the crew hanging like that: Sadiq had been nothing but a gentleman, and the rest of the crew were decent people. Still, they were getting paid for both directions of this trip and would be free to take up other work at the port, so perhaps it wasn’t that bad. And time was short, so there was no reason to stick around for pleasantries.

The boarded the ship and put on a little show for the benefit of the crew, plastering smiles on their faces even if they hadn’t found what they’d been looking for. Nobody demanded to see proof of a find, but Caleb did produce a few odd-looking items to be admired while Molly handled the second half of the promised payment. They retreated to the tower as the ship got underway, dropping the pretense with a sigh.

Beau slumped into a chair. “Alright, how soon can we leave?”

Caleb shrugged. “With good weather, as early as midday tomorrow might be safe. I cannot know for certain.”

“Well, I am not going on deck again; I’m exhausted of pretending to be rich and pompous. What’s there to do around this place?” Molly looked around the common area of the tower.

“There are many books to read.”

Molly made a face. He had never been one for reading, but if there was truly nothing else to do perhaps he could try it. He didn’t have enough art projects left to keep him occupied for an entire day, and he would certainly go stir crazy if he didn’t do something. He grabbed a book off the nearest shelf.

“Are all of these from your memory?” he asked, flipping the book open to read the title page. ‘The Salty Sea’ was emblazoned on it in fine calligraphy, heavy with embellishments. It took him a moment to process the letters.

“Ja, this library contains every book I have ever read. Many are in Zemnian, but you will find plenty in Common.”

Jester shuffled over to him from where she had been cuddling a spectral cat. “Or we could do each other’s hair, or I could give you a tattoo, or we could explore the cat tunnels.” Molly grimaced: he’d heard about Jester’s tattoos. He considered his body more of a work of art, and would wait until her linework improved before letting her near him with a needle. He flipped the book open to a random page, skimming the text. Something about the rocking of the ship, the rhythm of their thrusts— wait, what?

Oh. Oh. This was part of Caleb’s smut collection.

And from a bit more of a skim, it appeared to be a rather good part of that collection. It was easy to forget that the wizard was shameless in his choice of literature, especially since he didn’t act at all prudish about it. It made him wonder what else Caleb wasn’t prudish about. Molly grinned, snapping the book shut and tucking it under his arm.

“I’ll tell you what, tomorrow morning I’m all yours. You do my hair and makeup and I’ll do yours. But tonight I’m going to have a hot bath, a good read, and a platter of fruit. Night, everyone!” He raised the book to his forehead in a salute, retreating toward his room.

As he exited the library, Molly could hear Beau talking about him. “What’s up with him tonight?”

Jester giggled in response. “I think he found a really good book.”

The next day passed quickly, with Jester occupying Molly all morning. By the time she was done with him, he had expertly-applied shadow around his eyes and an elaborate braid in his hair tied off with a piece of silver ribbon. Not that anyone could appreciate it, as Molly had to put on his disguise to go out and inform the crew and captain of their departure. He gave a weak excuse about needing to muster up more crew and equipment for the full expedition, then returned to the tower where the rest of the group awaited. Having warned Yussa of their impending arrival, they waited patiently for Caleb to inscribe the teleportation circle on the floor of the tower’s atrium and stepped through the moment the lines began to glow.

The Nein tumbled into the receiving room of Tidepeak Tower, where they were quickly attended to by Yussa’s goblin butler. They were lead up the stairs — why did they always go up the stairs in this place? And why only one flight each time? Molly’s brain spun when he tried to puzzle out the layout — to a sitting room where Yussa was waiting for them, lounging on a couch with his legs crossed at the knee. Upon hearing their arrival, he finished a conversation he had been having with a small hand mirror. Molly wondered if the man had gone senile until the mirror spoke back.

“Ah, they’re here. We will arrive shortly.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

Placing the mirror on a side table, the mage stood and smoothed out his robes. Today they were slashed with emerald green but were still predominantly a metallic golden bronze, which seemed to be his signature style. Though Molly was not personally into robes — they were terrible for accentuating one’s figure — he could certainly appreciate the man’s commitment to his style. He snapped back to attention when Yussa cleared his throat.

“So, I have heard back from my contact in Tal’Dorei. You all remember Lady Allura Vysoren, of course?” The rest of the group nodded, leaving Molly to dig through his memories of their adventures without him to try to remember who that was. He couldn’t place the name. “She has invited us to meet with a few members of the Council of Tal’Dorei who have information about these visions you saw.” Yussa nodded at Molly when he said it, a flicker of pity in his eye. The rest of the group got oddly excited at the mention of the Council, leaving Molly once again to his private confusion. “If you’ll please follow me.”

Yussa led them up the stairs to a room that contained a teleportation circle and donned a thick cloak from a peg on the wall. Molly took that as a cue and donned his own winter coat, which was now nearing completion. He had embroidered as many constellations as he could fit onto the body of it, and was halfway through doing a trim depicting phases of the moon around the hood. It was too much for the temperate weather of Nicodranas, but if they were going somewhere chilly he’d rather be properly dressed for it. He’d had enough of the cold for one lifetime while in Eiselcross.

“Ah, may I…?” Caleb asked, gesturing at the sigil in the center of the teleportation circle. His eyes were hopeful. Yussa considered as he clasped his cloak.

“Perhaps we should speak to the council first,” he decided, and Caleb nodded with resignation.

One by one they strode into the circle, each disappearing with a soft popping sound. They landed on the other side in a room containing the sister circle, its double doors opening onto a garden courtyard. Though it had been evening when they left Nicodranas, the sun was still high in the sky here, wherever they were. Molly was baffled. One day he’d have to look at a full map of the known world and have someone explain to him how it could be a different time at the same time in different places. This was beyond his carnie understanding.

Yussa led them along a covered path toward a large home. The gardens they passed through were covered in a fine layer of snow, but even then they were beautiful. Statues and topiaries stood in neat rows along the grounds, framing a fountain that still flowed with water despite the temperature. They were walking into a place of wealth, and Molly couldn’t help but feel underdressed. Well, at least he was dressed better than most of the group.

They were greeted at the door by an older human woman in a blue dress. “Welcome! Please, come in,” she said as she held the front door for the group. Her voice was the same as the one that had come through Yussa’s mirror earlier. Based on the paintings on the walls and the décor, Molly assumed this was her home. There was a decidedly blue theme going on, between her dress and her furnishings. Did all mages adopt such a personal colour? If so, Caleb’s must have been brown. What a terrible choice. Perhaps all the other options were taken.

Though, the man had been dressing better lately. While his current overcoat was similar to the one he had worn when Molly met him, it was obviously new and of quality make. The rest of his clothes weren’t entirely brown, either, so that had been an unfair accusation. Molly had seen him in deep greens and blues from time to time, and even seen a stylish purple ensemble hanging in the Xhorhaus. What Molly wouldn’t give to see Caleb in that outfit.

The mage woman — Allura, as she introduced herself — led them to a sitting room. Extra chairs had been brought in from the dining room to accommodate a large number of people. Including the two people already sitting when the Nein arrived, there were twelve people now crowding the room. Everyone took a seat and tea was served while Allura began introducing the Mighty Nein by name to her other visitors, hesitating a little when she got to Veth but introducing her as ‘Nott the Brave’ all the same. Then she came to Molly.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, actually. Have you been with the Nein long?”

Molly stood and gave a curtsy, trying to be on his best behaviour for these rich and powerful people. “I was a founding member, actually. On a bit of a vacation when the rest of you worked together. Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service.” He gave a nod to the visitors, who had yet to be introduced. They were a man and a woman, sitting together on a settee. Based on their body language they were a couple, though one appeared significantly older than the other.

“A pleasure to meet you. Might I introduce the esteemed members of the Council of Tal’Dorei, Lord and Lady de Rolo?” Allura gestured at the guests, who bowed their heads politely.

“I’m Vex’ahlia,” said the woman, who had a long black braid. “But you can call me Vex.” She appeared much younger than her partner, but judging by the point of her ears, looks could be deceiving. She appraised each of the Nein with sharp eyes, tilting her head with appreciation when she scanned down Molly’s coat. Finally, someone with taste.

Her partner — an older human with pure white hair and a set of round spectacles — spoke up in turn. “And I am Percival Fredri—”

Vex cut him off with a roll of her eyes. “Just call him Percy.” Her dismissive tone earned a smirk from Allura and Beau, who was generally impressed whenever a man who thought he was important got knocked down a peg. Still, Percy didn’t look too put off by it. Perhaps it was a regular occurance.

Schooling her face back into a genial mask of diplomacy, Allura continued. “Vex’ahlia and Percival are, or were, members of the group ‘Vox Machina,’ who once were much like your own group. They have done many good deeds for Tal’Dorei, and for Exandria as a whole.” A note of recognition flashed in Caleb and Beau’s eyes, and the two exchanged a look. “But more importantly, Vex is our foremost expert on the Underdark, and the both of them have explored it quite extensively. I told them what Yussa told me, and they’re here to help.”

Vex spoke up again, legs crossed at the knee and one foot swishing through the air absently, a bit like how a tiefling might move their tail. She had an air of casual ease, telegraphed by her posture and her bearing. “Why don’t you describe the area you saw to us in detail? Allura didn’t give the specifics.”

A few sets of eyes trained on Molly. Sighing a little, he withdrew his dream journal from his breast pocket and flipped it open to the page where he’d copied the vision from the bloody paper on which he’d originally scrawled it. The penmanship was better than normal, since he’d had plenty of time to copy it, and reading it aloud was easy.

“At first there was nothing of note, just stone and soil and endless tunneling. Then it broke into an endless cavern.” He went on to describe the stone stronghold they’d carved through and its dark dwarf denizens — duergar, he was corrected — then the citadel. Vex seemed impressed when he correctly named the illithid after describing them, and mildly alarmed when he spoke of how they had gone mad after attacking the worm.

Vex and Percy exchanged looks a few times during the description. When Molly paused for a sip of tea, Percy took the opportunity to speak. “We’ve certainly encountered a place that sounds similar to this, but truth be told the entire Underdark is unmapped and could contain any number of places like what you describe. Was there anything, err, unique in your vision?” He seemed to be trying not to sound pompous, but in truth he wasn’t entirely succeeding. Bless him for trying, though. Molly gingerly set down his teacup on its delicate saucer.

“I was just getting to that, dear. Anyway, then we came upon a place where the ground became more bone and black glass than sand. There was a pit lined with it, incredibly hard to climb. It just kept giving way under my feet. And in the distance there was this beautiful blue crystal wall that glowed in the dark. Is that unique enough?”

Percy paled if that were even possible, pale as he was, and looked at Vex. She nodded and gave Allura a thoughtful glance.

“We’ve encountered this place, many years ago when we were rescuing Kima. It’s extremely dangerous. It contains some kind of rift that illithid and beholders and worse can come through. We encountered a beholder known as K’Varn near it and barely escaped with our lives.” Percy nodded along at her words, his jaw tense.

“That sounds like a rift to the Far Realm. It’s where aberrations come from.” Beau was flipping quickly through her notebook, too fast for Molly to believe she was actually able to see what was on the pages. Still, she must have had some kind of system of organization because she settled on a page, reading and tapping at the paper. “Yeah, fuck, and that’s where the Crawling King was banished to. So if there is a place where the barrier between the planes is weak…”

“Then something could be brought through, given the right circumstances.” Allura shook her head, sighing. “This is exactly what the Angel of Irons cult was trying to do for Tharizdun, but this time they don’t need arcane devices to weaken the barrier.”

Fjord cleared his throat. “Where exactly is this rift? You said the surrounding area is dangerous, will it be within our abilities to reach it?”

Percy looked him up and down. “You seem capable, if a bit under-equipped. But we can help with that.” Vex shot him a look, but he patted her leg and she settled. “The nearest entrance from the surface is under the city of Kraghammer, to the northeast. Allura can arrange transportation from here.”

“Do you have any allies you could summon?” Vex asked. “This sounds like the kind of thing we ought to be rallying the troops for. We can wrangle up a few more people, but many of our team’s fighting days are done.”

“We know a few people,” Molly said, looking to Caduceus, who nodded. “How soon can we arrange this? It’ll probably take a few days to get everyone together.”

“We have a keep here in Emon that doesn’t see much use these days. You could bring your allies there and we can all meet there when we’re ready. We’ll also need a few days to make arrangements.”

Caleb cleared his throat, teacup hovering just above the saucer in his other hand. “Is there a teleportation circle we could have access to for this? I cannot transport many people without one.” His eyes flicked to Allura, looking for her assent.

Vex smiled. “Oh, of course dear! We had one installed in the keep that you can use any time you like. No need to sign in with pesky guards or anything. We’ll show you right after tea.”

The keep that Vex had mentioned turned out not to be in the same gated district as Allura’s estate, and for that Molly was grateful. No matter how much money they acquired, he didn’t think he would ever feel comfortable living in the fancier parts of the world. Even as they were leaving the central part of Emon where all the people with money and power lived, the guards gave him extremely wary looks. He had come from dirt, been raised by nomads, his heart was with the smallfolk of the world, and he was sure that they could see it despite the fine clothing and equipment he now donned.

Despite not being in the same district as the mansions of the elite, the building was vast. Far larger than any other home in the area, the keep boasted fortress-like walls at the edge of the property and even had its own stables. There was a chapel with beautiful stained glass windows that rose over two stories tall, high enough for some ornamental trees to grow inside. They were given a tour of the facility — which they were told was now only sometimes used by visiting dignitaries from Whitestone — and Caleb was allowed to copy the sigil for the teleportation circle into his spellbook. With the tome carefully balanced in his lap, it only took a minute for him to copy the complicated pattern onto the paper with his rich, black wizarding ink. Molly felt a swell of pride when he recognized the bottle as being one of the ones he had purchased back in Nicodranas.

Then the frenzy of arranging a large force of defenders began. Molly messaged Reani and Clarabelle, both of whom agreed to come with others, and Jester sent off messages to enough people to nearly expend all of her magic for the day. Responses came through right away, many eager, some regretful. One received no reply at all, much to Jester’s chagrin.

Fjord tried to comfort her through the little bout of sadness that took her when Keg’s message went unanswered. “We only knew her for a few days, Jess, it’s not like we can expect her to drop everything to help us. Besides, how would she get here?”

“I know, I know,” Jester sighed, putting an X next to Keg’s name on the list in her sketchbook. The list had more names with an X than with a check, many of them having been unable to leave their families on short notice. Pumat Sol’s name was on the paper, written out hopefully by Jester, but Caleb had insisted that they not contact anyone with ties to the Assembly so she had regretfully crossed it out. So far they had five people willing to help, with a few promising to try to bring more.

Vex and Percy took their leave once a tentative plan had been formed. Though Percival was physically not able to help in a battle due to his age and injuries, they promised to bring at least a few more people who could. Percy also promised to send along a vast amount of equipment and supplies from Whitestone, sending word ahead via sending stone to prepare a shipment.

They were settling down for dinner when Jester received a message from someone. She squealed with glee as the words came through, repeating them for the others’ benefits. It was Calliope, the elder Clay sister, letting them know that she, Clarabelle, Reani, and Sier would all be ready to travel the next day.

“Have them meet us at the Xhorhaus,” Caleb suggested. “I would like to try to convince the Bright Queen to lend aid to our cause. The Dynasty is known to hate the Betrayer Gods above all else. This way we could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Jester nodded and replied. “Hi Calliope, thank you so much for helping! Can you go to our house in Xhorhas? Reani knows where it is. We’ll pick you up!”

“Do you think the Bright Queen’s going to be all that generous?” Beau asked. “She barely gave us any help against Obann and the Laughing Hand.” Yasha pursed her lips at that, and Molly squeezed her hand. Though she tried not to show it, he knew that it was still a sore subject to bring up her time under Obann’s influence. Molly regretted not being there to gut the bastard himself, but he was proud that it was Yasha who had gotten the kill in the end.

“Now that the war is over, she will have more resources to spare. And we returned her beacons, did we not? She owes us a fair amount, I think.”

“I’m not so sure, but I hope you’re right, dude.” Beau stretched and cracked her knuckles, then grabbed a bottle of liquor and brandished it toward the sitting room. “Anyone up for a game before bed?”

Chapter Text

In the morning, Caleb whisked them off to the Lucid Bastion to go pick up their friends.

While there, they asked for an audience with the Bright Queen and were made to wait in a bland waiting room for what felt like an hour. Caleb fidgeted the entire time, tapping away the seconds with his fingers. Molly mused about how always being aware of the passage of time seemed like a curse. He’d never had much use for timekeeping in the way that others had: he had no appointments, no schedule whatsoever beyond the carnival’s show starting vaguely around the time the sun started to skim the tops of the trees. It was certainly easier to let a day fly by without a clock ticking away in the background, and he couldn’t even imagine having a clock ticking away in the privacy of his own mind.

Finally, they were granted an audience with the Bright Queen and Caleb’s nervous tapping stopped. The wizard straightened noticeably as they entered the throne room, flanked by drow in ornate armor. It was Molly’s first time seeing the monarch, and he couldn’t help but stare in awe of her grace and power. Her appearance commanded attention and respect — she certainly knew how to use fashion to her advantage. But Molly could feel tension in the room, the captain and a few advisors tensing in anticipation of her responses and even casting nervous glances. It seemed not everyone present trusted her judgement.

A hush fell over the room as the queen tapped her scepter against the marble floor. The impact echoed around the cavernous room, and all eyes turned to focus on the Nein.

“So, why have you come, Heroes of the Dynasty?” There was a hint of venom in her voice when she addressed them as heroes, and Molly felt her gaze linger on him as she inspected the group. He stood tall with his chin high — not enough to be defiant, but enough to be proud. “Now that you have your peace, I thought you’d have gone back to your little adventures.”

There was a noticeable inflection to the way she said ‘peace,’ practically spitting the word. To her side, a drow captain in heavy armor flinched and glanced nervously to one of the other trusted advisors on the dais. Molly didn’t dare turn to gauge the reaction of any of the observers at the side of the room, but to their credit, none of them moved an inch in his peripheral vision. The entire room seemed to be holding its collective breath.

Fjord was the first to speak, calling on that odd charisma he could drum up when he wanted to in an attempt to sway her to their cause. “Your majesty, we have come to seek allies in the fight to prevent the release of yet another Betrayer God.” Whispers echoed around the room from the audience, hushed, but concerned. “We thank you for your aid against Tharizdun and the Angel of Irons cult, but an even more dangerous situation has arisen. A demigod by the name of Quajath has been freed from its captivity and now tunnels through the earth toward the Crawling King’s own prison. There is not much time.”

“And?” The queen’s face did not deviate from its apathetic mask. She appeared almost bored, and Molly’s tail lashed angrily of its own accord. Beside him, a frown line appeared between Caleb’s brows and the human stepped forward, bringing him in line with Fjord.

“The Crawling King has destroyed entire civilizations during the time of the Calamity. If freed, he has the potential to destroy your empire with ease. Are you not moved?”

“What would you have of me? Weapons? Perhaps you wish to have your pick of what the Dynasty has recovered from the north?” Fire in her eyes, her mouth contorted into a sardonic smirk. “Though perhaps you have enough of that, given your own activities there with the Cerberus Assembly. What do you think you deserve of us, given your recent actions against our interests?”

Caleb’s hands balled to fists at the implication, but Fjord moved quickly to smooth it over before anyone’s emotions could get the better of them.

“My queen, you must forgive us for what happened in Eiselcross. We did not mean any harm to your people, nor did we engage in violence with them. Our mission there was to gather information on an Assembly member whom we believed to be engaging in… evil magics. She was the one to kill your people, before we could stop her.”

Jester leaned around so she could be seen better from behind the tall people, bouncing playfully as always. “Don’t worry though, she’s like, super dead now. Do you want to see her body? Caleb has it in his—”

“If this is true, produce the evidence.”

The group looked amongst each other, shrugging, and Caleb produced a necklace with a pendant of amber stone. Placing it on the floor with a soft click, the wizard mumbled a command word and the pendant broke into five pieces, forming a rough circle on the ground. Between them lay an enormous blue gem and a body. Caleb’s feet blocked Molly’s view of the corpse’s face at this angle, but on the skin of one of the splayed hands he could see a single red eye. An involuntary shudder ran through Molly’s body, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. He quickly shoved his own marked hand into a pocket, lest someone notice the mirrored markings.

“Shadowhand?”

A slender drow glided forward from the side of the room to inspect the body, and Molly recognized him as the one who had apprehended him when he’d first arrived in Xhorhas too look for the Nein. More by his attire than by his face, to be honest. The ornate mantle was striking. He bent slightly to inspect the body, then straightened and turned to the queen.

“It is the Archmage of Antiquity, my queen. They appear to be speaking the truth.”

The queen dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and he bowed his head and drifted back to his spot among the audience.

“Though it may not bring back the lives of those lost, perhaps we could offer you the artifact that your expedition was seeking? As recompense?” Caleb pointed to the gem, his hand quaking slightly. Clearly, he had not expected this level of resistance from the queen. “It, err, is a very power arcane item…” His voice trailed off, and the room was quiet once more.

With a snap of her fingers, the gem was whisked away by a guard. “Your token is accepted,” snapped the queen from her dais, already moving on. Molly bristled. How could someone be so uncaring about the lives of other people? She seemed to only care about the Nein’s allegiances, not the lives lost.

“So, err, about the allies we asked for…” Fjord’s voice was high with uncertainty. In front of him, Caleb’s amber pieces flew back together, shrinking the mage’s corpse and sealing it inside. He stooped to retrieve the pendant.

With a scoff, the Bright Queen acquiesced. “Yes, yes, fine,” she said dismissively, and the captain beside her cringed again. “Shadowhand, arrange for two Echo Knights to escort the Mighty Nein on their little quest.” The man stepped forward again, bowing, and turned toward the door. Though he said nothing, he indicated toward the exit with his eyes and gave them a look that said ‘come on.’

That’s it? Weren’t these people supposed to have entire armies at their command? Molly caught Veth’s eye, just as wide as his own, and she mouthed ‘two?!’ at him with incredulity.

“Err, yes. Thank you very much, your majesty.” Fjord bowed and the rest mirrored his movements, then followed the Shadowhand out of the room at a pace that was just shy of rushed. Only once they were clear of the palace did anyone speak.

“What the hell was that about?” said Beau, perhaps a bit too loudly. After an entire year of lessons on socialization from Fjord, Molly thought she would have picked up an inside voice. Veth shushed her like the mother she was.

Essek scanned their surroundings before answering, leaning in to whisper. “The queen has been… having some difficulty lately. She has been combative for quite some time, but without a war to channel that into…” He trailed off.

Caduceus loomed over the group. “I think we were lucky to get anything. She was ready for blood when we first walked in.”

“I should go arrange that for you. Will we meet back at your home?”

“Yeah, we need to go pick up a few people.”

“Alright.”

As Essek drifted off to arrange their escort, the rest of the group started in the direction of their sometimes-home and Jester sighed deeply. “Aw man, you guys! We’re so fucked. The Empire totally wants us dead and the Dynasty doesn’t like us either.” She pouted, a gesture that was altogether too cute given the seriousness of the topic.

Molly chuckled, releasing a bit of the nervous energy that had built up in the throne room. “Well, when all this is done why don’t we take a nice, long vacation in Nicodranas where we’re tolerated?”

That brought a mischievous glint to Jester’s eye, and her mouth split into an insolent grin. “Well, technically, I got banned from Nicodranas, too. I locked a lord on a balcony, naked. And then when we were visiting I locked him on a balcony again and we locked the door with a magic dagger that means the door can never be opened, like, ever. So, he probably wants us dead too.”

Molly doubled over with laughter, unable to get the image out of his head. “ Please tell me the entire story. Gods know I need a good laugh right now.” And Jester did, keeping him giggling all the way to the Xhorhaus.

They arrived and unlocked the front door to find four people in their living room: Reani, Clarabelle, Calliope, and Sier. Clarabelle immediately jumped up to pull Caduceus into a hug, then scooped Molly off the ground and spun him around. Calliope acted cool, but Molly could see the excitement in her eyes. Everyone piled into the house and immediately began introductions.

They were still chatting and catching up when there was a knock at the door. Caleb opened it to reveal Essek, flanked by two Kryn warriors in dark armor. He was dressed in less ornate clothing than normal, missing the mantle and drapery, and had a pack over his shoulder. Caleb’s mouth fell partially agape.

“You are coming with us?”

Essek smiled shyly. “If you will have me. The queen was… ambiguous in her wording.”

From across the room, Beau yelled. “Essek’s coming? Fucking dope. Time to work off your debt to society, pal!” Essek’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked nervously to the two fighters who flanked him. Beau only rolled her eyes. “Get in here and close the door! You’re letting out all the heat!”

The house was extremely crowded now, so they pushed some of the furniture into neighboring rooms and made space on the floor for Caleb to work. As the wizard drew an arcane circle on the hardwood with chalk, Sier introduced themself to Essek and the two began speaking in quiet Undercommon. Based on their dispositions, Molly thought they would get along well. It was nice to have such a large group turn out to be so compatible.

Caleb caught everyone’s attention with a wave, and they lined up to step into the circle once he drew the last line. His hand hovered over the incomplete central sigil with a piece of chalk, ready to complete the spell as soon as everyone was ready.

“And remember,” shouted Veth, “walk, don’t run, and keep walking when you get out the other side. We don’t want any trampling accidents.” She looked at the much-taller rest of the group with a little anxiety, arranging herself near the back of the line.

There were no accidents as everyone walked in an orderly fashion through the teleportation circle and into the keep on the other side. Vox Machina’s former home was a bit dusty from disuse, but a few casts of Prestidigitation later everything was ready for habitation again. The guests began settling into rooms as the Nein regrouped in the main hall, save for Veth, who had discovered a lab full of gunpowder in the basement and immediately begun making explosives.

“Caleb, how many more casts of that can you do today?” Beau asked. “I asked Dairon to head to the Port Damali archive, and Calianna is there too.”

“Uh, two, but then I will be totally tapped. Ack, I should have bought more chalk…”

“Then let’s head to Port Damali and try to round everyone up. Dairon said they might be able to convince a few other fighters at the Soul to come along.”

“It’s a nice team we’ve got coming together,” Molly remarked, and several people nodded in agreement. Caleb began to draw the circle.

“I can’t wait to see Calianna again,” Jester sighed. “It’s been so long since our last letter. I wonder if she got the one I sent? Man, I’d be real mad if it got lost, I worked so hard on it!”

“Well, you’ll be able to ask her soon,” said Fjord, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Caduceus untied the clasps on his breastplate and began removing it. “I’m going to stay here and make sure everyone’s taken care of. I’ll let you know if I hear from any of the Tal’Dorei people.”

“Alright Caddy, have fun. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Beau tied the blue-grey sash of her station at the Cobalt Soul around her waist. Caleb was half hunched over, holding his chalk and looking at her expectantly. “Okay, let’s go.”

The last line of chalk marked the floor and the sigils flared. Stepping into the circle provided the now-familiar sucking sensation, and Molly hit the floor on the other side with practiced ease before taking a deep breath to counteract having had the air knocked out of his lungs. Guards sprung to attention at their arrival, at least until Beau appeared and raised her hands.

“Sorry, guys, we were out of Sending spells for the day. Is Dairon here yet?”

One of the guards nodded and led them out of the room, into a small library. An elf with a shaved head — Dairon, Molly presumed — was waiting in a comfortable chair, reading a book with a title Molly couldn’t read. They snapped the book shut as the group approached and stood. “Beauregard, it is good to see you.” Beau pulled them into a loose hug.

“Don’t get up just yet, we’ve got to go pick someone else up in town. But we’ll be back soon. What are you reading?”

Dairon turned the book to show her the cover. “A bestiary outlining the capabilities and weaknesses of various worms and worm-like creatures. It may be useful.”

Beau nodded. “Good thinking. Well, we’re just going to run to town and back, so we’ll see you in an hour?”

“Of course. I’ll tell the others.”

The streets of Port Damali were similar to those of Nicodranas, and Molly shed his coat the moment the warm coastal air hit him. The archive was built into the side of a steep hill, and even from this distance the sea was visible. Molly breathed in the salty air gladly. Beside him, Jester pulled out a slip of paper.

“Fjord, do you know where this is?” She read out Calianna’s address.

Fjord scratched his head behind the ear, where his hair was shaved short and fuzzy. “It’s been a while since I did courier work here, Jess. It sounds like it’s in the temple district, but we should ask around.”

They did, and they were pointed down the hill and through a maze of streets toward a residential area near the temple district. Molly looked to Caleb, hoping that the wizard would remember the way back through the twisting streets, only to notice him walking with a bit of a hunch. Figuring his back was sore from all the drawing he’d been doing on the floor, Molly cast a quick healing spell and tapped Caleb on the shoulder, earning a shy smile. The wizard straightened and lost some of the tension he’d been holding in his face.

They were almost to the address, crossing a small square of cafés and shops when someone called out to them. “My friends! Long time no see, eh?” A tall human with a long braid ran from a patio table to catch up with them. Molly thought he looked vaguely familiar, but Fjord immediately brightened.

“Ah, Darrow, good to see you! How have you been?”

The man was taller even than Fjord, and commanded attention dressed in a golden yellow shirt with a symbol of Pelor on display. His smile was wide and bright, and he leaned in for a hug when he caught up with the group, slapping Fjord on the back. “I’ve been well, my friend! Enjoying a bit of a vacation now that there are no wars, you know? What brings you to Port Damali?”

Fjord’s eyes flicked to the rest of the group. “We’re actually just here to pick someone up. We’ve been gathering allies to help us fight a bit of evil that’s been unleashed, and a few of them are meeting us here.”

“Evil, you say? What kind?” Darrow’s eyebrow lifted with interest, and he crossed his arms and leaned on a lamp post.

“Ah, do you know of Torog?”

“Of course. It was the Dawnfather himself who struck the bastard down.”

“Well, it’s a long story, but some spawn of his is currently en route to free him.”

“Sounds bad. I’m in,” Darrow said, cuffing Fjord on the shoulder and smiling impossibly wide. “Ah, where should I meet you? My stuff is at an inn.” He looked back towards a side street.

“Uhh,” Fjord droned, clearly not expecting that response. “How about we meet you back here? Our friend’s house isn’t far.”

“Ha ha! Sounds good, my friend. I will see you soon.” Darrow waved at the rest of the group and then jogged away, weaving between startled pedestrians.

“Well, he was sure something,” said Molly, in awe of what he’d just seen. The man certainly had an energy to him.

“Yep,” Fjord squeaked, and turned to go. Molly caught a hint of flush to his green cheeks, and grinned.

“I think Fjord has a bit of a crush,” he whispered to Jester, who giggled. They gossiped about it all the way to Calianna’s home, which turned out to be an apartment down the street from the temple of Bahamut. She had windowboxes overflowing with flowers, and opened the door at the first knock. Spilling out of the foyer, she hugged each of them in turn, then picked up her pack and locked the door.

“It’s so good to see you all again! And thank you for thinking of me when you were looking for help. I can’t wait to repay you for helping me.” She walked among them proudly with her hood down and her hair tied back with a ribbon, revealing the scales on the side of her face. Molly was happy to see that she’d gained some confidence since they had last met in the Lebenda Swamp. A sweet girl like her deserved to feel good about herself.

“You don’t owe us anything, dear, rest assured of that. But we are happy for your help. What have you been up to in the last year?”

Calianna told them about how she’d been working as a florist, with the occasional break to help followers of the Platinum Dragon root out more enclaves of the Cult of the Caustic Heart. She’d made a good life for herself in Port Damali, becoming a recognized member of the community and even recently starting to see someone. She was shy when they asked about that, so they didn’t press too hard for details.

They found Darrow waiting for them in the square, clad in impressive scale-and-leather armor. A round shield leaned against his pack, and a warhammer and battleaxe hung at his belt. He shouted an ‘aha!’ when he saw them, quickly loading up his gear and falling in line with their procession. Introductions were made, and everyone was glad to see that Darrow didn’t so much as flinch when Calianna offered her scaled hand for him to shake.

Back at the archive, Dairon was waiting with two other monks. Molly was surprised to see none other than Julian: the archivist who had helped him locate the Nein all the way back in the ruins of Molaesmyr. She still had two forked daggers tucked into the sash at her waist, and recognition flashed in her eyes when she noticed him.

“Couldn’t wait to see me again, could you?” he teased as they shook hands. She laughed, leaning in to speak to him quietly.

“No, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the legendary disaster that is Expositor Beauregard.” She winked, and Molly doubled over with chuckles.

“Well, you’re in for a fun time. At least until the fighting begins.”

Caleb crouched low and drew his fourth and final teleportation circle of the day, whisking them away from the archive in a flash. They returned to find the keep abuzz with the sounds of cooking and conversation, seeing the kitchen full of Clays in the midst of preparing a meal for more than a dozen people.

“We found a few extra people,” Beau called into the galley.

“Not a problem,” Caduceus called back over the din. Based on the size of the pots and serving dishes, Molly guessed they could probably feed a small army.

They were a small army. That was an interesting thought. He’d never thought an army could be so jovial. Reani had started crafting a flower crown for Calianna the moment they’d introduced them. The happy energy of the assembled group belied the sheer amount of power at their disposal. Had they wanted to, they probably could have overthrown a government.

The teleportation circle activated in the middle of dinner, cracking the air as people and cargo materialized. Vex’ahlia arrived along with a few workers carrying crates, and a bear, in armor. That sight set some jaws hanging, but the druids and Jester immediately rushed to meet them and to play with the overlarge pet. A knock at the door a few minutes later seemed expected, as Vex immediately opened it to let the guests in without waiting to see who was there first. Two women with red hair entered, one wearing a cloak of leaves and the other with a leg made of vines. More druids, evidently.

Coincidentally, the Nein had met the older woman before. She was introduced as Vilya, and her daughter as Keyleth, a member of Vox Machina. Jester explained that Vilya had been one of the people they had freed from Vo, trapped there for twenty or so years after falling through a rift. Molly remembered the story vaguely, though the synopsis he had received was of course missing most of the details and context. He went through the motions of being introduced with a mask of a smile on his face.

Molly began to feel a bit distant in the middle of the crowd as people he didn’t know caught up, so he drifted to the sitting room. Taking a seat on a tufted settee, he began to shuffle his cards on a coffee table to occupy his hands. In the background he could hear Vex handing out items, calling out things like ‘who relies on speed?’ or ‘who relies on stealth?’ She seemed to have a vast supply of arcane items. While normally this would be exciting, Molly was too preoccupied to join the fray.

This was the eve of their departure, their final day in the light before they would venture into the Underdark. Under the ground. Out of the domain of the deities that backed them and into the domain of the betrayers. There would be no moon to light his way down there.

It had been some time since Molly had been underground, truly. Most of the places he had explored since his most recent resurrection had been structures above the ground, and while they were often dark and cramped, he had the reassurance of the integrity the worked stone provided. It wasn’t the darkness or the tightness of spaces that really scared him: it was the possibility of being buried alive again. The dirt above choking him and pinning his arms, preventing escape— but it wouldn’t do well to think about that too much.

He tried to focus on the positive. Vex had told him that the caverns in the Underdark were expansive, with high ceilings and far walls. They were solid stone, for the most part, with emphasis on ‘solid.’ It would be nothing like a grave. He would have his friends with him and they would never leave him behind. He had to focus on that.

With a deep breath he did one final bridge shuffle and was spreading the cards in a fan face-down on the table when the couch dipped beside him. Caleb had sat next to him, leaning on his knees with his hands folded. The wizard looked as apprehensive as Molly felt.

“Something on your mind?” Molly asked as he finished spreading the cards. The gilded backs glinted in the firelight.

“I cannot help but feel much the same as I did the night before another one of our attempted ambushes,” Caleb replied, scratching at the scars on his arms. “It is like the calm before the storm, and we do not yet know how strong the storm will be. Last time, it was far too much for us to weather.” His eyes flicked to Molly’s for a moment before darting away again, focusing on his hands.

Molly knew exactly which night he was talking about, and his chest throbbed at the memory. They had been so hopeful then, with a plan that had felt so solid at the time yet had fallen apart seconds after it began. He rubbed at his sternum absently, feeling the thick band of scar tissue that ran perpendicular to his other scars. A constant reminder of that ill-fated day.

“You shouldn’t dwell on the past, dear. It’s not the same as that time. We’re much better equipped now, and look at how many folk came out to help. It feels like half of us are healers of some sort. We’ll all come out of this alright.” He didn’t much believe his words, but hopefully they would reassure Caleb some.

A soft huff escaped Caleb’s lips, and his brow pinched in that way it always did when he was stressed. “Forgive me if I am not an optimist like you, Mollymauk. I do not wish to go through that again. This time I will do things differently. Prepare for eventualities.”

The cards glinted up at Molly in the corner of his vision. “Well, if you’re uncertain… shall we take a look at our future, Mister Caleb?”

Caleb’s adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, eyes flicking to the cards. In lieu of an answer, he nodded.

Molly took his hand, pulling it closer to the arc of cards and resting his own lightly on top. Caleb hovered, sweeping his hand along the spread before selecting a card two thirds of the way to the right, tapping their conjoined index fingers to its back. Molly slid it out to rest face down under the arc.

“Just the one,” he said softly. “An omen for the near future.”

He was reaching to flip the card when Caleb stopped him. “Molly, do you still believe that your readings can be real?”

Molly smiled, knowing Caleb was referring to the time that Jester had forced that out of him with her truth spell. “Now more than ever. It used to be that I felt a tickle in the back of my head from time to time, and those times the cards were usually eerily accurate. Now I know what that tickle was: a thread of connection to a power beyond my own. And now that I’m trained, I know how to call upon that power when I need it. I can’t divine the far future, just do little auguries like this one, but the magic is real.”

Molly half-expected the wizard to cast Detect Magic, but instead he just nodded and returned his hand to Molly’s, ready to flip the card. Molly was surprised by his show of faith, given his skeptical nature. He felt a rush of affection for the human.

“Alright, now, focus on the thing you want an omen about,” Molly instructed, and Caleb nodded, his eyes determined. Focusing on his own near future, Molly guided their hands to flip the card.

The first element of the card that Molly saw mid-flip was a grey headstone, and he took a sharp breath, thinking he’d drawn Death. But when the card was looking up at him in all its glory, it was the golden sun of the Dawn that faced him. Beside him, Caleb’s breath hitched and Molly turned quickly to interpret the card, worried that he had assumed a negative omen from the upside-down face of Death. But when he turned to speak, Caleb surged forward and the wizard’s lips met his.

At first Molly was frozen in shock, never having expected Caleb to be so forward, but then he melted into the touch and wound his fingers through the man’s hair. It was thick and coarse, so different from his own, but the texture was grounding: a reminder that this moment was real.

The kiss was clumsy, with both of them fighting for the bottom lip at first before Caleb yielded it to Molly. Knowing Caleb’s vague history, it had probably been years since he’d had a proper kiss, and Molly knew he was rusty as well.

The moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity before their lips parted, and when Caleb pulled back his face was flushed red. His hands lingered on the sides of Molly’s face, but there was a moment when he lost confidence and pulled them away. His eyes betrayed that uncertainty, flicking from Molly’s eyes to his shoulder and back at a rapid pace.

Sensing the spiral of self-doubt beginning, Molly pulled Caleb into an embrace and began to stroke his auburn hair. Caleb immediately softened, snaking his arms around Molly’s waist and leaning into his shoulder. “Thank you,” Molly whispered to him, and Caleb squeezed him in return.

“I couldn’t let you go into battle again without… without…” Caleb took a deep breath, steadying himself and looking for the right words. “It wasn’t until you were gone that I realized how deeply I cared for you. The loss burned me like a brand. I regretted so many things. My lack, mostly, of planning and of ability to prevent what came to pass. But also the missed opportunities: things that I left unsaid or undone. Now I have been given another chance, and I will not make the same mistake twice.”

Emotion ran through Molly like a rush of warm water, and he pulled Caleb a little tighter. “I’m glad you took the initiative this time,” he whispered into the man’s hair.

Caleb chuckled quietly, shaking slightly under Molly’s grip. “I was very afraid, but your forwardness helped.”

It never would have happened without Veth’s help, Molly thought, and he smiled into Caleb’s shoulder. He probably owed her a wealth of foreign coins and interesting buttons for setting his head straight.

The tiredness was clear in Caleb’s face when they separated. Molly remembered how he’d been earlier, back hurting from all the teleportation circles but not saying anything, and gave a pout of worry.

“Caleb, dear, you must be exhausted. Why don’t we go to bed?” Seeing the momentary flash of terror in the wizard’s eyes, he waved his hands and clarified what he meant. “No funny business unless you want it, I promise. Just rest, and closeness. You seem like you could use both.” The anxiety receded from Caleb’s eyes, and he nodded. Molly made a mental note to teach him sign language some time; it certainly seemed like he could use it. His voice seemed to flee him at times.

Rising from the settee, Molly offered the human a hand and helped him to his feet. He led them through the wing with the suites, pulling Caleb along by the hand. Selecting one with a double bed and an east-facing window, he softly locked the door behind them after they entered. There were enough rooms in this place to reserve a room for just two, he told himself.

High up above the street as they were, Molly didn’t bother to close the curtains. This final night above ground he wanted to take in as much of the moonlight as possible, and part of him fondly imagined waking up to the beginning of the next chapter of his life with Caleb in his arms, watching the golden light of the dawn rise on the horizon.

Sitting on the bench under the window, Molly gave a little prayer to the Moonweaver as he wiped and oiled the blades of his scimitars. Let us get there in time, he pleaded in his mind. Let us finally stop this bastard Torog and his spawn. And let none of us die in the process.

Weapons taken care of, Molly slipped out of his armor and clothes and into a sleep shirt, entirely for Caleb’s benefit. The wizard was already beneath the covers, having shucked his books and layers efficiently and left them folded on the dresser. Molly strode over to the bed and placed his journal on the nightstand, then slid under the sheets and placed a kiss to Caleb’s brow. Though he appeared to be dozing, Caleb’s eyelids fluttered and an arm snaked through the blankets to rest over Molly’s hip. Smiling, Molly scooted back until he was flush against the human’s side.

Tomorrow the struggle would begin anew, he knew, but tonight he could enjoy this small comfort. He focused on the moment, pushing out any thoughts about his anxieties for the days to come, grounding himself with the light pressure of Caleb’s arm around him and that of his tail around the man’s leg. With his heart full, he drifted off to sleep to the rhythm of Caleb’s gentle breaths.

Chapter Text

Allura arrived the next morning with a shipment of crates emblazoned with a purple unicorn logo, having slept in her own home. She was dressed for travel and had a few wands tucked into her belt in addition to a white staff, each one intricately carved out of a different type of wood. Molly wondered idly what they did, and noticed Caleb eyeing them with rapt interest as well. The Nein had only ever found the one that forced people to smile, but Molly figured that only pointed to just how rare they were.

Jester was more interested in the crates and their purple unicorn design, proudly stamped with the title ‘Gilmore’s.’ Vex produced a small crowbar and pried the lids off of them, revealing bottles of viscous red liquid packed in straw: healing potions. They were distributed among the group, with everyone getting at least one.

“Make sure to actually drink yours this time,” Beau reminded him as Molly added his to an accessible pocket, and he shrank a bit with guilt. He’d completely forgotten that he’d had a potion when they were fighting in Urukayxl, to be honest. Though at times it was easy to get caught up in the sheer intensity of activity that the group had been undertaking since his return and forget that he hadn’t been with them for most of his life, the truth was that he’d only been back for a little over a month. It wasn’t much time to get used to the new wealth that they had acquired while he was gone, and that made it easy to forget that he had tools like healing potions at his disposal. His spells were still new to him as well, and under pressure his muscle memory usually opted to swing a scimitar rather than cast a spell.

“Will do,” he responded, just to get her off his back, but patted his pocket to remind himself of the potions’ existence. He’d been too preoccupied with Caleb’s well-being in that fight in the temple to care about his own, but Molly knew that unless he kept himself safe he’d have no way to protect the wizard at all. He would have to be more careful in the future.

The opening of the next set of crates ripped him from his thoughts with the groaning sound of stubborn nails being pulled out of wood. The crate that had arrived with Vex from Whitestone had contents that were much less obvious than the unicorn-emblazoned ones, containing only unmarked sachets. Vex picked up a velvet bag from the top of the pile and bounced it in her hand. “Alright, who all can cast spells?”

The vast majority of the volunteers raised their hands, and Vex started passing out the small velvet bags to each of them. Molly took one despite his reservations about whether or not he could really be called a real spellcaster, and the bag was heavy in his hand. It felt like it was filled with fine sand.

“This is residuum. It can take the place of material components in spells. We’re going to be going deep underground, far from where most components can be found, so you can use this if you suddenly discover that you don’t have, I don’t know, an eyelash encased in gum arabic or something. Speaking of which: Kiki, did you bring the bowls?”

The druid with the cloak of autumn leaves held out a chalice. It was the most ridiculous gem-encrusted chalice that Molly had ever seen, far too gaudy even for his tastes, which spoke volumes about just how far the adornment had been taken. It reflected the light from the multitude of precious gems set into it, sending patterns scattering on the walls. “Sure did,” said Keyleth, and passed a second chalice to her mother.

“If you need any other components like that, now would be the time to get them,” Vex continued. “Otherwise, we’ll be using residuum.” She held one of the bags aloft for all to see. “This can take the place of any spellcasting component, but use it wisely. It’s expensive stuff. We’ll be heading out to Kraghammer shortly, via teleportation circle. Gear up and meet in the courtyard in an hour.”

The group broke, with everyone moving to pack up their remaining belongings and put on armor. It was interesting to see some of the people Molly knew geared up for war. Calliope was in a heavy breastplate and shield, and Sier even strung a longbow and hung a quiver at their hip. In the time that Molly had worked with them, he had never seen them armed. A knot formed in his stomach as he watched all their friends and allies assemble and move toward the teleportation circle. For better or for worse, battle was imminent.

A few hours later with all their allies gathered at the entrance to the rift under Kraghammer, Vex stepped to the front and turned to face the assembly. She carried a broom, of all things, slung over one shoulder casually, and wore armor made of what must have been white dragon scales. The armor and bows she carried were extremely fine pieces of equipment, putting in perspective just how much adventuring she had done in her day. Caleb and Beau had told a few tales of the exploits of Vox Machina, most of which Molly would have been convinced were pure bullshit had he heard them before fighting with the Mighty Nein.

“Listen up, sungazers,” she called out, earning a few chuckles from those who spoke Undercommon. “We don’t have much time, so stealth is off the table. We need to move as quickly as possible to cut off our quarry, which means that we’re going to attract a bit of attention. A lot of things live in the Underdark, some intelligent, some not. We’re going to attempt to not engage with them if we can avoid it, so if you see something humanoid, shout at them to fuck off in Undercommon or find someone who can. Who all can speak Undercommon?” Several hands went up, including a so-so hand gesture from Molly. Though he couldn’t speak the language much, he could definitely tell someone to fuck off. “Good. Everyone memorize that,” Vex instructed, and everyone turned to get a look at who in the group had their hand up.

“Those of us with darkvision will be on the outside of the group to watch for trouble. If we run into anything that looks like an ooze, do not touch it and do not use lightning on it.” That also earned some chuckles, presumably from people who had encountered such creatures before and learned that the hard way. Molly had heard about them from Veth, who had run from one in the ruins of Aeor. They didn’t sound like anything that Molly particularly cared to have to fight.

“Err, some of us can help provide darkvision to those who lack it,” came Sier’s soft voice from behind Molly.

“What was that?”

Knowing that Sier wasn’t one to raise their voice, Molly put his louder voice to use to repeat what they’d said. “Some of us can grant others darkvision,” he called, and Vex nodded.

“Good, that’ll be helpful. Now, we have a few days’ travel ahead of us before we reach the rift. When we camp, we’ll scry on our quarry to make sure that we don’t miss them, but last we checked we are still ahead of them. Everyone stick together, and call it out if you see anything. Let’s go.” She turned and began leading the way into the caves below the city.

They moved out, all two dozen of them, not bothering to mask the jingling of their armor as they walked. It was a solemn procession, with everyone focused on the task at hand. The caves were quiet, with just the faint sound of dripping water and the occasional sounds of animals scurrying away from the loud throng of humanoids disturbing their homes echoing in the space.

Molly was part of the outer guard thanks to his exceptional darkvision, scouting their path to the front and left of the party. Sier took up the mirrored position on the right, lavender eyes searching for movement in the cave ahead. Behind them, soft mage lights glowed to illuminate the floor enough for the humans and firbolgs to walk without stumbling, casting long shadows on the ground and haloing everyone in soft light. Caleb of course had his own lights dancing around him, and when Molly looked back he couldn’t help but admire the copper shine of the his hair in the amber light.

Tearing his eyes away from his new… partner? — he would certainly have to talk to Caleb about that later — Molly focused on the deep shadows ahead. The day had been quiet so far. They did encounter a group of goblins, but those had stayed far back to observe the procession. They’d slunk away into the shadows when Veth screeched at them in the guttural tones of the Goblin language. Molly was surprised she remembered it much at all, given how little time she had lived among them, but then again she was extremely bright. There was a reason Caleb was so keen to teach her magic.

“Molly?”

The soft uttering of his name made Molly jump, not having expected anyone to be so close to him. Yasha had snuck up from behind, silent as a shadow despite her large size. Molly fought to calm his racing heart as he looped an arm through hers, smiling as her proximity washed over him like a balm.

“Yes, dear?”

She slipped a ring onto the middle finger of the hand on her arm. “I got this for you last night, when they were handing out magical items. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll help protect you.” Her tone implied she was leaving words unsaid, and Molly had the sneaking suspicion that she was thinking ‘because you sure need it.’ He huffed a little, but conceded that she was probably right. Inspecting the ring revealed a detailed pattern of scales etched into the metal, reminiscent of Vex’s armor. The gold reflected in the distant mage lights, and from a distance the item was fairly unassuming.

“I would have given it to you yesterday,” Yasha continued, “but you were… busy.”

A mischievous grin split Molly’s face despite himself, and he cackled and squeezed her arm. “You saw, then?”

She gave him one of her small, shy smiles. “Yes. I’m very happy for you both.”

They walked in a peaceable silence as they scouted, Molly fidgeting from time to time with the ring that didn’t yet feel familiar on his finger. In his mind’s eye, he went through all their recent battles to see if he really deserved the coddling. Sure, he had gone down in the temple of Zehir, but the memory of Caleb kneeling on the floor in a puddle of his own blood also stood out starkly in his mind.

“I don’t suppose you got another one of these, did you? I think our wizard could use one as well.”

“I didn’t think it was that serious yet,” Yasha teased, her tone barely different thanks to her dry sense of humor. Molly had been with her long enough to know when she was joking with him, but her quips often went over the heads of the others. “But no. He already has one, he’s just very squishy.”

Molly hummed, thinking about her jab. To be honest, he didn’t know how serious this all was. It was unexplored territory for him: romance. While in the carnival he’d had a few tumbles, but a roll in the hay before moving onto the next town had never meant anything, emotionally speaking. Never more had he felt his scant three years of life experience than in this moment.

Yasha, though, she’d been in love, once. Married, even, short-lived though it was. And now there was this thing blossoming between her and Beau, the two of them exchanging smiles and blushes and small affections. Molly had noticed the difference in Yasha’s mood because of it. She was genuinely happy when Beau was around, and he was glad for it. Tapping his fingers on the fine emerald lines of the tattoo trailing down her forearm, Molly worked up the courage to broach the more serious subject.

“How… how do you know if it’s serious?” he asked, thinking back to all his idle attractions in the past. They were sometimes so intense at first, but usually burned out as quickly as they’d flared. Kissing Caleb had lit a fire in his belly, but one he didn’t know how to categorize. The swoop he’d felt was similar to the kind he’d felt in the past, when someone he’d propositioned pulled him into a room at an inn, and a small part of him worried that it wouldn’t last.

“Hmm,” Yasha hummed, and then was quiet for a good long while. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that often featured in their discussions. Yasha was a careful speaker, taking the time to choose her words with care. It wouldn’t do to interrupt her process, so Molly just waited and focused on his watch duties. Every stalagmite looked the same and he was thankful for Yasha’s company.

Eventually, she continued. “There is no easy way to tell, I don’t think. Love is made up of a lot of little things. Why do you ask?”

Molly kicked at a rock on the ground, launching it a satisfying distance with the toe of his boot. It clacked against the cave floor as it landed, and the echo reminded him of just how large this cavern was. Worried about the sound traveling, he cleared his throat and softened his voice when he answered.

“I've just never done this sort of thing before. I definitely consider him a good friend, and now we’ve kissed... But you know me, I've kissed all sorts of people before and it never meant anything. Quick attractions that didn’t last. What if it isn’t any different now? What if this meant something to him and I end up hurting him?”

Yasha cocked her head slightly, and the faintest of smiles pulled at the corner of her mouth. “That might be how you know,” she said. “I don't think I’ve ever heard you worry about it before, whether or not it will last. You were always just happy to see how things went. It must be important to you if you’re thinking about the future.”

“It was easy to not take things too seriously when we were in a different town every fortnight,” Molly laughed. “But I suppose you're right. I do want it to work, deep down. I'm just worried that I'll screw it up with my lack of experience.” He looked back at the rest of the group, eyes skimming over Caleb — who was somehow reading while walking — before settling on Jester and Fjord. The couple walked hand in hand, and Molly tried to imagine them as a normal couple in a town somewhere. “What do normal people even do once they're together? All I've ever known was Gustav and Ornna fighting every day and then sneaking off together every night. Can't say I’ve had the best role models.”

A soft huff of a laugh escaped Yasha. “That is true, but I don’t know what ‘normal people’ do either. But with Zu… all I needed was to be together. A hard day could be made better knowing that I would see her smile at the end. Or the touch of her hand. Those were so important.” Yasha looked at him again, more intently. “Just… care for him. You know? And talk. None of us are good at it, but…” she trailed off.

Molly nodded, knowing what Yasha meant about the small things. He thought to the time that his stomach had swooped when he first saw the room that Caleb had made for him, how knowing that the man had cared enough about him to memorize his every preference down to the smallest detail had made him feel. How significant the small touches that Caleb had initiated had felt, given that the man was normally so hesitant to touch. How Molly had made a split-second decision to throw himself in the way of danger to protect the wizard. How awful he’d felt when he thought he may have accidentally crossed a line, and how he had gone all-out buying paper and ink with the small hope that it would pull a smile out of the stoic man.

“I can try,” he promised. “Just... kick me if you ever see me doing something stupid, alright? You know how I can run my mouth sometimes.”

“Of course. But you’re not so bad about that, you know? At least when you care not to. And I think you can make each other happy.” She ruffled his hair between his horns fondly, if a bit heavily. “And you both deserve it. I’m glad that you’re finally working on it.”

Molly straightened out his hair with his free hand, pushing the tresses back out of his face. “What do you mean, ‘finally?’” he huffed.

Yasha gave him a sad smile. “Oh, Molly. For someone who used to read people for a living, you can be very blind.”

It hurt, but Molly knew it was true. He was very distractible. “Oh, you know me, can’t focus on anything unless it’s right in front of my face,” he replied, waving a hand in front of his face for effect. Yasha nodded.

“I think he’s loved you for a long time, in some way. He wanted to name the house in Xhorhas after you, and there are reminders of you all over his tower. I think that the tower is a peek into how he feels about us, the things he cannot say out loud. It can be difficult… to find words. You know?”

“Mmhmm. And you can’t really blame me for not noticing at first. There’s been a lot going on since I got back.”

“That is true. And he has been very quiet about it.”

Molly’s face split into a nefarious grin. “Besides, it took you how long to finally make a move with Beau?”

Yasha blushed and looked down at her boots. “That is different. I’m not so good with people like you, Molly.”

“Nonsense, you’re my charm. Always have been.” He gave her arm a squeeze.

“I still don’t think that is true.”

“It must be, you managed to charm the pants off of the grumpiest woman I’ve ever met. Actually, have you charmed her pants off, yet?”

Molly was thrown off-kilter as Yasha hip checked him. “Don’t change the subject. You were asking me about you and Caleb.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” Molly righted himself and nuzzled up to her again, careful not to jab her with a horn. “I’m glad you have faith in me, though, really. It means a lot.”

“You’ll do fine if you put your mind to it. I think you’ve cared about him for a long time, too. Didn’t you make a card for him before anyone else?”

Molly thought back to the Mighty Nein’s early days, before they’d even named themselves. He’d started working on adding to his deck shortly after he met them, inspired by the amazing new things he watched the others do as they worked together. The Magician card was indeed one of the first that he’d sketched after meeting the group, inspired by the fire and ice that Caleb had shot from the diamond that he’d spun between his fingers. Molly hadn’t ever seen magic, not like that, and he’d been immediately captivated.

He pulled his deck from his pocket, leaving the watch duty to Yasha for the moment, and rifled through the cards until he found the one he was looking for. The visage of a goblin mixing chemicals — the Tinker — looked up at him until he reversed the card to reveal the Magician. A small sketch of Caleb adorned the card, diamond held between finger and thumb with six orbs of different colours encircling him. The sketch was idealized, bearing none of Caleb’s former layer of grime nor any of the holes or patches of his old coat. The man on the card could even be regarded as pretty, Molly mused, which certainly wouldn’t have described Caleb at the time. He stowed the cards. “Sad that I don’t even know my own heart,” he lamented, and took up his watch again.

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Yasha soothed. “It can be hard to know what the heart wants. You got there eventually. Now, you should go talk to him. I can take up your spot here.”

Molly’s heart soared, and he stepped up on his toes to plant a kiss on Yasha’s cheek. “You’re the best as always, dear. Wish me luck.” He disentangled his arm from hers and gave her a parting squeeze.

Making a beeline toward Caleb, Molly weaved between people and slowly approached the wizard. He was still reading by the dim light of his mage lights, eyes occasionally flicking up to scan the ground in front of him. He had the art of walking and reading mastered, maneuvering deftly over and around small obstacles without losing his concentration on the page in front of him. Essek appeared to be making attempts at conversation, speaking to Caleb on occasion and casting anxious glances all the while. Caleb hummed and grunted his responses, not paying real attention. Molly sidled up to his elbow and gave him a tap on the arm.

The human jumped at the touch, turning to meet Molly’s gaze with a startled look in his eye. But when he saw who it was who had disturbed him, his face softened into a smile that reached his eyes. Molly couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection at that small smile, so warm and genuine despite Molly just having disturbed his reading.

“Ah, hallo, Mollymauk.” Caleb slipped a ribbon between the open pages of his book and then snapped it shut, sliding it into the satchel at his hip. Hurt flashed on Essek’s face at that, clearly having been attempting to get Caleb’s attention for the past who knows how long, and after a terse look at Molly he drifted away without a word. Molly couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the drow, but knowing his history it was clear why Caleb wasn’t interested. The human cared deeply about the smallfolk of the Empire and seemed to consider himself one of them despite his newly acquired power, and Essek had disregarded the wellbeing of all the people of both the Empire and of Xhorhas with his ploy to gain arcane power. And beyond that, he had lied to the Nein’s faces every time he’d been with them before he was discovered. Molly was surprised they still spoke to him, really.

But that wasn’t what he came here for, so Molly pushed the thoughts of Essek out of his mind and focused on that warmth that Caleb was radiating at him. A smile of his own crept up on his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners, and he had to restrain himself from sliding an arm around Caleb’s waist. That was part of what they needed to talk about: where they stood, and what their boundaries were. Or, rather, what Caleb’s boundaries were. Molly was shameless.

“What were you reading, darling? Must have been good to be worth straining your eyes over.”

Caleb turned and patted his satchel. “Ah, it is a treatise on the arcane properties of certain types of minerals in Exandria and their— it is not important.” A bit of anxiety flashed on his face, and Molly wished the wizard wouldn’t cut himself off like that. Molly may not understand what he was talking about, but he was more than happy to listen to Caleb ramble on about the arcane. It was one of the rare times that he spoke openly, and the sparkle it brought to his eye was enough to entertain despite the dryness of the topic itself. “Err, how went the watch?”

“Uneventful, thankfully, but very boring. I’ll be glad to have a little company.” If you’d care to join me, he left unsaid, though he knew Caleb was a perceptive person and would know that Molly wasn’t forcing him to socialize. Molly held his hand out subtly: an invitation, but one that hopefully wasn’t too obvious to an observer. Molly wasn’t sure if Caleb would be comfortable with something like that in public, but guessed that the man’s skittish nature would take some time to subside. He was proven right when Caleb’s eyes flicked down to the hand and then to the people around them, a sheepish look growing on his face. Unsurprised and not hurt in the slightest, Molly dropped the hand and tried to reassure Caleb with a look. “Why don’t you tell me more about your book?”

That curious spark lit in Caleb’s eyes as he started explaining the subject of how magic was infused into the very stone of Exandria. Nearly all of it went over Molly’s head, but it wasn’t the words that were important. He drank in Caleb’s voice and expression as the wizard talked at length about his reading, watching how he illustrated things with his hands and how he moved more when he was excited. From time to time their hands would brush, or Caleb would place a hand on Molly’s arm, and Molly marveled at how those small touches made him feel.

Yasha had been right when she had said that the small things could be so important. If Molly hadn’t noticed before how he felt when he was around Caleb, he was certainly noticing it now. Just the proximity between them was a comfort, similar to how he felt when Yasha was around but more like the warmth of a campfire than the embrace of a blanket.

Molly was pulled from his reverie by a hard strike to the toe, boot connecting with solid stone and sending him falling forward. Caleb cursed mid-sentence and caught him by the elbow, pulling Molly both upright and tight to his side. Other people parted as they stopped, moving around them like water does around a stone in a stream.

“Sorry, sorry. Just got lost in thought for a moment there,” Molly said, and released his grip when he realized that he had been clutching at Caleb rather tight. The human released his arm and took a half step back, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps we should speak later tonight,” Caleb said, and the look in his eyes said about this. About us.

Molly gave a solemn nod, and they continued the rest of the trek in relative silence. At the end of the day, Allura set up a magical mansion similar to Caleb’s tower, but with a more sprawling two-storey layout.

As it turned out, Caleb was actually very much into touching and being touched, at least in private and with someone he was comfortable with. The moment that Molly was in bed, freckled arms encircled him and pulled him close. Gone was the hesitance of the night that they’d shared in Emon. Caleb sighed against Molly’s chest as Molly ran his fingers through the auburn waves of the human’s hair and scratched lightly at his scalp. The touch seemed to soothe him so much that within minutes Caleb’s breathing was softening as he drifted off to sleep.

With a chuckle, Molly roused him from his dozing. “You wanted to talk, love?” he asked, and Caleb blinked up at him in the dim light of the chamber.

“Ja, sorry. I got too comfortable and lost my thoughts for a moment.”

That was possibly the highest compliment Molly could ever hope to get from Caleb. The wizard’s mind was constantly moving, as evidenced by that precise internal clock and perfect memory. To be able to still those racing thoughts for a moment meant that his presence must be deeply comforting to Caleb, enough to make the man feel safe and a bit dreamy. Molly couldn’t help but give a soft smile at that thought, and he caressed Caleb’s hair once more, relishing in the shiver that the touch elicited.

A conflicted look crossed Caleb’s face as he composed his thoughts. Knowing better than to interrupt him to try to reassure him, Molly just rubbed light circles into his upper back to soothe him.

“I must confess that I have no idea what I am doing, Mollymauk.” Caleb looked him in the eye and bit his lip before continuing. “You asked once if I wanted to be closer…” he trailed off.

“I take it that you did, given our current position,” Molly teased lightly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Caleb’s ear. He couldn’t help but trace the shell as he did, the odd roundness of it foreign under his finger.

Caleb huffed a small laugh. “Ja, you are right. But now that we are here, I do not know where to go. I am very inexperienced in the ways of romance, Mollymauk, unlike you.”

Now it was Molly’s turn to laugh, a chuckle escaping his lips and shaking Caleb gently where he was leaning on Molly’s torso. It was incredibly funny to Molly that both he and Caleb had been anxious over the same thing, and funnier still that Caleb thought that Molly knew anything about romance. Sex, sure, but relationships?

“Gods, Caleb, I’m three bloody years old. You think I know what I’m doing?” Molly leaned over to place a kiss to the top of Caleb’s head, bending awkwardly in order to do so. “I’ve got no expectations. Like I said before, I just want to share some closeness with you, whatever that looks like. Now, I won’t pretend not to be at least a little disappointed if you don’t find me terribly attractive, but I’ll still be content to cuddle if that’s all you want.”

Relief was evident in Caleb’s face, and as the tension washed out of him, he returned his weight to lay on top of Molly. Normally this would be stifling, but Caleb was so thin and light that Molly barely even felt weighed down. Molly traced a finger up the man’s back, feeling the sharp bumps of his spine through the thin linen of his tunic. They really needed to feed him better.

“It has been some time, since I have done anything like this. It is, uh… very nice,” Caleb mumbled into Molly’s shirt. His voice dropped to a whisper and he curled impossibly closer. “You are very nice.”

“You’re very nice yourself, darling. More than you give yourself credit for. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you care for other people, between that tower full of every little thing you’ve remembered about what we like, and all the sacrifices you make for us. We really ought to repay you. When this is all over, we’ll do whatever you want. Name it, and I’ll convince the others to do it.”

Caleb groaned, hiding his face for a moment. “When all of this is over, I want to rest for at least a week. Do you know how long it has been since I had time to study?”

“I don’t think studying counts as rest, dear. But yes, we all need a rest, and then we should help you with anything you need.”

“I do not deserve you.” It wasn’t clear if Caleb meant the Mighty Nein as a whole or just Molly, but Molly decided that he would use the opportunity to get back to what he had been wanting to ask about the entire day.

“And yet, you have me.” He planted another kiss to Caleb’s hair, relishing in the light flush that had developed on Caleb’s pale skin. “And speaking of that, I was wondering, where do you want to go with this? Earlier I wasn’t sure whether or not you would want to hold my hand, and I just want to make sure that your boundaries are clear so I don’t accidentally overstep again.”

“Oh.” Caleb shifted his weight to his arms, lifting his head of of Molly’s chest to look him in the eye. One side of his face bore a slight imprint from the wrinkled fabric of Molly’s blouse, and his gaze was thoughtful. “I am… It has been some time since I have… been with anyone.” He bit his lip again, worrying at it and making no sign that he would speak again.

Molly nodded, giving him a look that he hoped was serious but not solemn. “At your pace, then. I won’t do anything that we haven’t already done. But how do you feel about being open in front of the others?”

The idea that Caleb would want to hide that they were together formed a small stone in the pit of Molly’s stomach, but he braced himself for such a response. He knew Caleb could be a very private person.

“That would be… okay. So long as it is not too over the top.”

“So, no public make-outs, then.”

“Ah, no. Forgive me, Mollymauk, but I do not like so many eyes on me.” Caleb’s eyes flicked down to the spot where Molly knew a red eye was hidden among peacock feathers on the side of his neck, and the stone in his stomach grew. That was another thing they needed to look into eventually, lest the strange powers keep manifesting. They hadn’t talked about it since the last time he had accidentally activated one — they had just been too busy to find the time — but they couldn’t put it off forever. But gods above, Molly didn’t want to talk about it now.

“I’ll let you initiate it, then,” he deflected. “Whenever you feel is right.”

“Thank you, Mollymauk,” Caleb said, stifling a yawn, and turned out the lights.

Chapter Text

The second day passed quickly. The group passed by the duergar settlement that Molly remembered from his dream, but they gave it a wide berth. Shows of strength scared off the only other creatures they encountered, spooked by the bright lights of their cantrip spells.

Finally, they reached their destination. The blue crystal cave wall sparkled in the distance, lit by a faint internal glow, and Molly could see fragments of bone and black glass beginning to litter the ground. In the distance a mound of black and white loomed, backlit by the blue glow of the crystal. A shiver ran down Molly’s spine as they approached, stopping when the it became difficult to move forward through the loose fragments underfoot.

Everyone gathered around to watch Sier’s final divination. They already knew that their enemy was close, but now was the time to find out how many hours of preparation they had. The cleric lit a brazier and fed incense and an offering to the flames, which took on a blue hue. They collected a handful of runes in their hands and shook them gently, the ivory clicking lightly as the pieces tumbled, then cast them onto a roll of fabric on the ground. Pieces scattered around and landed in groups, the celestial rules on them facing up in a pattern that was nonsensical to Molly. Sier was an expert in this sort of divination, however, and everyone waited with bated breath as they examined the runes.

“They will arrive mid-morning. We can rest.”

The audience let out a collective sigh of relief, and Allura set up the mansion while Jester and Caduceus began casting a spell around the bone pile that contained the rift. After a few minutes of them burning incense and sprinkling holy water and residuum about, a wave of energy burst like a bubble popping.

“That should help keep anything from moving between planes, hopefully,” said Caduceus, and everyone entered the mansion for the night.

Once the door was closed, Keyleth and Vilya began the preparations for a Hero’s Feast. The gem-encrusted bowls were withdrawn from bags and set atop the bare trestle tables of the mansion, and as the incantations were recited, dishes began to appear and fill with food. Roasts, pies, vegetables, breads, stews, and desserts conjured in turn along the tables, creating a feast that Molly was sure rivaled those of King Dwendal’s at holidays.

Though Molly was used to feasts being mirthful, there was a decidedly muted atmosphere at the meal. People were trying to put on brave faces, but they all knew that this meal could be their last. Small groups of close friends broke out in places, people sitting close together and comforting each other while they still could. Molly chose a spot next to Yasha and looked around for Caleb, but couldn’t pick him out in the crowd.

They ate, feeling the power of the magical meal seeping into their bodies immediately, and passed drinks around. Molly moved from group to group, spending time with all of the people that he had met along the way. He helped braid Clarabelle’s hair while he watched Reani and Calliope awkwardly flirt, and showed Sier the basics of tarot in exchange for the basics in runecasting. He watched a series of arm wrestling contests between the members of the Cobalt Soul and the paladins, only for Jester and Yasha to join in and take them all down in a few short rounds. The look on Fjord’s face as Darrow and Jester faced off was priceless: he was flushed, and absolutely torn as to who he wanted to win.

Some people managed to find their beds, but many more fell asleep in piles on couches and large pillows in the salon. When Molly couldn’t fight back yawns anymore, he went looking for Caleb again.

He found the wizard slumped over his spellbook at a table in a quiet room, hair fanned out over his arms. With a fond sigh, Molly capped his inkwell and pulled the pen from his loose grasp, then scooped him up and brought him to the bed. Caleb barely roused as Molly placed him on the bed and removed his boots, but mumbled something softly in Zemnian when Molly put an arm over him, and he pulled Molly’s hand up for a kiss before drifting back to sleep.

In the morning, they all awoke with varying degrees of hangovers and filtered into the eating area to slam back tea, coffee, or in some cases alcohol, and to enjoy the last food beside rations they’d likely get for at least a day. That was, if they survived at all. Molly looked around the group as they prepared for the day and the battle ahead, wondering how many would fall and if they could be saved.

They had brought many diamonds, and a large number of those who had come along had access to resurrection magic, but if they became overwhelmed it could potentially not be enough. Molly checked his own component pouch, double-checking that the marble-sized diamond was still secure in it dedicated side pocket. It glinted at him in the mage light and he was for a time lost in thought. He was roused when someone commented on the time, and everyone geared up and exited the mansion.

They took formation in small groups with a mix of melee and magic users. The wizards were in the back, monks of the Cobalt Soul ready to defend them if necessary. Jester had pulled some pink fabric out of her haversack and cut it into strips to clearly mark the healers, and Molly was among the group of them who had received a peach sash to tie around his waist. There were a reassuring number of healers, always one within dashing distance. Should their formation hold, they would be fine, Molly reassured himself.

It was a few minutes past when Caleb had called out “ten o’clock” that they first became aware the approach of their enemies. The Clays were the first to notice, feeling the soft rumble underfoot and warning the others. Molly and Sier shared Sehanine’s blessing with those who needed darkvision then, just in case their light sources should go out. But Molly knew the battlefield would probably be bright: the strategy they had developed in earlier discussions was to mimic the way that Pelor was said to have originally vanquished Torog. They were just going to his the thing with all the sunlight they had and hope for the best.

As the rumbling grew stronger, some of them started being able to make out shapes in the distance. Molly was among the first to actually see them, thanks to his enhanced darkvision, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the size of the hoard. A throng of people dressed in furs and hides stretched out nearly a hundred feet wide on the horizon, and at its center surged a massive worm. It was at least three times taller than the humanoids at its side, snaking along the cave floor flat on the ground.

It looked exactly like Molly remembered from his vision, and his blood ran icy cold as it came close enough to see the three eyes inside its mouth. The blackness there was all-consuming, a complete void except for the three pinpoints of cold white light that felt like they could pierce a soul. They rotated in a hypnotic pattern as the worm approached, rotating slowly as it moved along the ground, propelled by its infinite spines.

Molly drew a scimitar and skimmed it along his chest through the vee of his shirt, drawing blood and lighting the blade with a dim moonlit glow. His other hand hovered over his components pouch, ready to cast if necessary. As the hoard got closer and closer, he focused on his breathing and tried to remain calm. Yasha was at his side: together they would be okay. They had wizards watching their backs and clerics all around. They could get through this.

The hoard was little more than a stone’s throw away when something changed. The worm reared up, then threw its head toward the ground and began to dive below, tail thrashing in the air behind it. It took a moment for Molly to realize that it was not the only thing affected, as suddenly the entire center contingent of Quajath’s followers began to accelerate toward the cave ceiling. They flew straight up as if falling, with only a few managing to avoid the effect by grasping tightly to stalagmites on the floor.

A few seconds later, the flying cultists hit the ceiling. Thuds and screams echoed around the cavern, and their brethren outside of the area of effect froze in horror to stare up at their comrades on the ceiling. One of the ones holding a stalagmite lost their grip and flew up as well, shouting as they plummeted.

All eyes in the defending group turned to look at the arcanists standing in the back. Caleb’s eyes were wide with shock as well, and after making eye contact with Molly he turned to face Essek. The drow was standing with hands outstretched, one palm empty under a hand that held a lodestone covered in spiky iron filings. His eyes were hard, and when he noticed the stares he simply shrugged. Releasing the spell, the iron filings fell to the earth from the now-demagnetized lodestone. Screams echoed through the cave once more.

Molly turned to watch the cultists fall. The thuds of their impacts sounded like a sudden heavy rainfall, over as quickly as it came. Many of them did not rise from where they came to rest.

“Holy fuck,” someone breathed from behind Molly, and he couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. As helpful as that spell would likely prove to be in this combat, he couldn’t help but shake the chill that he’d felt when he saw Essek’s indifferent expression. The wizard had killed close to a hundred people, and seemed to feel nothing. Molly looked to Yasha and saw tension in her jaw and sympathy in her eyes. Those people likely had as little control over themselves as she’d had when she had been forced to work for Obann.

There was no time to dwell on it, though. The rest of the cultists were coming, and Quajath was burrowing somewhere below. Molly took a steadying breath and retook a battle-ready stance, knowing that the worm could appear anywhere.

When it did burst forth from the ground, it was under the left side of the group, near Jester and Fjord. Reaction spells flew as they retreated, lighting the cavern up with green and gold blasts of energy. Vex leapt onto her broom as the ground swelled under her and sped off through the air, nocking an arrow and letting it fly into Quajath’s open mouth.

“Back off! We need a clear shot for beam spells!” shouted Keyleth, but everyone was already retreating. Standing next to the worm spelled certain death, and they all knew it.

Something blunt hit Molly from behind and knocked the air out of his lungs, and only then did he remember that not all of Quajath’s followers had been dealt with. He whirled and activated the Mirror Image spell that his scimitar held, shrouding himself in an illusion that would help keep him from getting hit. Yasha was already on his attacker’s other side, bringing her greatsword down across their back and spraying blood on the dirt. Molly dove in for a slice of his own, catching them across the thigh and cutting through their crude leather armor. Around them, more enemies swarmed and the sounds of battle intensified.

In Molly’s peripheral vision, Quajath rose to a height that put its size into dizzying perspective. It loomed over them taller than any building Molly had ever seen up close, rivaled only perhaps by the Zauberspire in Zadash, then slammed down in an attempt to consume the people below it. Dirt and rock sprayed in an impressive radius as its head hit the ground, thankfully missing anyone as they dove out of the way.

Yasha struck down the bastard who had hit Molly in the back and immediately closed in on another. The cultists were not particularly well-outfitted, wearing mostly raw hides for armor, but some had poorly-maintained metal arms and armor. Perhaps visitors who had not been able or allowed to leave? Molly tried not to dwell on it as he fought them back.

The entire cave was painted in bright light as the first Sunbeam went off. Clearly, someone had finally gotten a clear shot. Quajath roared in pain, and the sound built to an intensity that was overwhelming. Molly slapped his hands to his ears, thankfully having the presence of mind to keep hold of his weapons, and watched as everyone around him did the same. Many dropped their weapons and some fell to their knees, both friend and foe alike. When the sound subsided, Quajath dove again and the ground shook, but many of the people of the battlefield remained frozen in place, babbling or swaying slowly.

Molly took the opportunity to unleash a flurry of attacks on the nearest unmoving cultist, cutting them down with a few precise strikes to their vital areas. Spells continued to fly all around him, the spellcasters who weren’t stunned doing all they could against their humanoid enemies while the worm wasn’t visible. A burst of flame hit one of Molly’s adversaries as they shook off the stun and lunged at him, sending them stumbling. Out of the corner of his eye, Molly could see smoke curling from Caleb’s fingers and his racing heart skipped a beat.

They didn’t have to wait long for the worm to resurface. Quajath was fast despite its size, and when the rumbling began to intensify, it was at Molly’s feet. Yasha deftly rolled out of the way, but Molly’s foot caught on a spine as the worm surfaced and he was thrown into the air. The force of the impact sent him sailing in an arc, spinning through the air in a spray of rock and earth. He flailed his arms uselessly as he fell, far out of the range of anyone’s Feather Fall, and he clenched his eyes shut as he braced for impact.

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, a memory flashed. Of him, in a dream, lifting off the ground and flying, light as a feather. He seized the memory and clutched it in his mind, hoping and praying for the same lifting feeling that had come in the vision. Then he was suddenly being sprayed with earth, apparently no longer moving along with it. He opened his eyes to find himself hanging in the air just out of the reach of the cultists below, seemingly supported by some kind of magical force.

“What the fuck, he can fly?” someone called from far away. It sounded like Veth, but he could pick her out in the fray. Shrugging, he tested his mobility, willing himself forward. As in the dream, he moved easily where he wanted to go.

Sunbeams erupted from multiple directions and engulfed Quajath, causing it to writhe and hiss. For good measure, Molly pulled a polished opalescent stone from his component pouch and summoned a Moonbeam of his own, which shone down from the ceiling in a blue-ish light that contrasted the more powerful spells of his allies. Quajath appeared to be preparing to burrow underground again, and someone shouted “don’t let it get away!” One of Veth’s explosive crossbow bolts blew a chunk out of its side a moment later.

That was when things got really ridiculous. From the middle of the crowd, Keyleth’s body began to rapidly expand and change, growing scales and wings and multiplying in size until a dragon stood in her place. She loomed over everyone, enormous, but still smaller than the worm. Her scales gleamed a brilliant brass, sending light scattering about the cave in little beams.

Keyleth’s dragon form dove to grab Quajath, wrapping her wings and tail around it. The worm’s spines pierced the membrane of the wings in places and Molly winced, but when the worm tried to dive again Keyleth held it fast. The others let off their Sunbeams again, and Molly moved his Moonbeam to better hit the worm without danger of hitting Keyleth as well. From a distance he could see Caleb’s trails of fire snaking along the ground before they burst forth to blast Quajath with a torrent of flame and molten rock.

The rest of the battlefield didn’t look so bad, at least from this vantage. An arrow whizzed by Molly’s elbow and he focused below him, looking for a group of friends that was struggling with the cultists. Vex was still afloat on her broom, shooting a hail of arrows and spells into the enemies below. She was probably the safest of them all, Molly mused.

Not knowing how long his flight would last and with little he could do from afar without dropping the Moonbeam that still seared Quajath, Molly floated to the ground near a cluster of people who looked like they needed help. Beau and Calliope were fighting back-to-back, surrounded by a shroud of Spirit Guardians in the form of swarming beetles, but with so many enemies coming at them they were sustaining a lot of damage. An earth elemental nearby was slamming away at cultists, and he assumed that must be Reani.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Beau jabbed as he landed, then cracked an enemy over the head with her staff. Calliope’s mace connected with someone’s shoulder and flashed with radiant energy.

“Be nice, or maybe I’ll think twice before helping you,” Molly teased back, grabbing his holy symbol and manifesting a sphere of dim light. Beau immediately sighed with relief as the effect bolstered her stamina. Molly drew his second scimitar and started cutting into the enemies around them, praying that nobody needed him to provide any real healing. Despite all his work, he still wasn’t a powerful magic user like the rest of them and wasn’t confident in his ability to actually save anyone.

In the background, beyond the dozens of heads of friends and foes, a separate battle raged on. Keyleth in dragon form wrestled with Quajath, trying to keep it above the ground and occasionally blasting it with golden fire. Blood trickled from under her scales where the spines had pierced her, and her neck was a ruin from where the worm’s mouth had managed to steal a crushing bite. The blood’s slickness caused her to lose her grip, and the worm dove below, shaking the entire cavern.

Keyleth dove after it, her dragon form apparently being one of the burrowing types, and the surrounding clerics and druids held back their Sunbeams, waiting for Quajath to surface. Five pillars of fire erupted from the ground in Molly’s peripheral vision, and the smell of burning flesh surrounded him.

People took the opportunity to regroup once the two titans were no longer thrashing about the battlefield. Molly and Beau moved back toward the spellcasters, having incapacitated all their own quarries, and engaged with cultists that had gotten too close to Essek. The drow looked haggard: sweat poured from his brow, and blood was seeping from a wound to his side, but he still stood tall and cast spells with stern concentration. Dairon covered his back, sending attackers stumbling backward with blows that dazed.

The ground began to shake again as Quajath neared the surface, the rumbling moving under Molly’s feet in the direction of the blue crystal cave wall as its intensity built. Fighters in the area scattered left and right to avoid the certain death it spelled if they were caught when the worm surfaced, and the cave echoed with shouted commands. But one shout in particular rang through to Molly’s ears.

“Caleb! Move! … Please!” Veth’s shrill plea pierced the sea of sounds of battle around him, and Molly’s blood ran cold as he turned to see what was happening. Through the parted crowd, he could see Caleb silhouetted against the faintly-glowing backdrop of blue crystal, five scorched trails leading away from him on the ground and ending with charred corpses. Caleb was slack, barely standing, shoulders dropped and arms limp, unmoving. And under him, the ground rumbled.

Molly barely had time to think as he set off in a dash, sprinting down the gap between the divided forces and toward the unresponsive wizard. He had just enough clarity of mind to take out a healing potion and down it on the way, knowing that he couldn’t help Caleb if he was unconscious. The herbal tincture burned on the way down, but bolstered his ability to run. Molly skidded to a stop at Caleb’s side and was met with the familiar empty stare of a person trapped in their memories.

“Caleb, please, we have to move,” Molly begged as he stroked a freckled cheek. Ash and sweat wiped away under his touch, leaving a bright streak in the wake of his thumb. Caleb did not respond. The rumbling grew, making the wizard sway on his feet.

Desperate, Molly thought back to the fight in the mines near Alfield, when Caleb had first receded into himself. Mirroring his movements from that day, he pressed a soft kiss to Caleb’s forehead. “Come on, love, time for that later. But now we need to move, please.” Caleb’s hand twitched and his brow pinched for a moment, but his eyes remained unfocused, and tears burned at the corners of Molly’s eyes as the ground behind him exploded.

The pair of them were showered in soil and stone as the worm burst forth, and Molly wrapped himself around Caleb protectively. When the rain of earth stopped, he cracked his eyes open to see the spiny body of the demi-god mere yards away. Its head coiled down slowly to regard them, the faint glow of its eyes visible in the void of its open mouth. With a roar that shook the cavern, it reared back and then dove, slamming toward them with enough force to pulverize mountains.

Adrenaline Molly didn’t even know he had left seemed to kick in, and time slowed. Instinct took over, and with an arm slung around Caleb’s waist, Molly pulled aside a veil that he had been too terrified to even acknowledge existed for the span of months.

This time as he stepped into the Ethereal Plane, he felt the transition. It was like the pull of the sheerest satin across his skin, a momentary sensation before he moved completely from one plane to the next. The feeling washed over him just moments before Quajath’s mouth impacted the spot where he stood, and the world went dark.

But seconds later the light returned as the worm reared back, leaving Molly unscathed. The ground around him was a crater, several feet worth of it having been sent flying on impact, but he floated where he had started, and Caleb still hung limply in his arms. Quajath turned from them, diving toward Keyleth’s dragon form as she surfaced behind it. As the adrenaline wore off, a buzzing in Molly’s ears drowned out most sound. His eyes were overwhelmed as Quajath was outlined in blinding light, the Sunbeams of all their cleric and druid friends converging on their shared foe at once.

Idly, Molly noticed he was falling. The body in his arms tensed suddenly as gravity retook them, and now it was Caleb’s turn to catch him as they tumbled to the ground, solid once more. The jolt brought Molly back to the present, and the sounds of battle flooded his ears once more.

“Mollymauk, you… I…” Caleb stuttered, eyes wide as he took in his surroundings. From his perspective, it was probably as if the world around him had changed in the blink of an eye. He processed the scene for but a moment before seizing Molly’s face between his soot-covered hands and meeting his mouth with a kiss.

It was as passionate and desperate as the first they’d shared, that last night in civilization when it felt as if they might never get the chance again. This time Caleb took the initiative, sucking at Molly’s lip in a way that felt almost possessive. Molly gave as good as he got, barely even registering the battle in the distant background as he luxuriated in the the feeling of being alive.

In the background, the huge brass dragon that was Keyleth slammed Quajath to the ground, ripping off a section of spines with her teeth and then breathing white-hot fire into the resulting wound. Sunbeams pierced it from every direction, searing its hide with radiant flame. The worm thrashed on the ground, head pinned by Keyleth and tail still confined to the earth, helpless as Exandria’s defenders assaulted it brutally.

Seeing a rare chance, Fjord and Darrow exchanged glances and ran up to the beast, light radiating from their weapons as they called upon the powers of their respective gods. A blow from Darrow’s warhammer blasted a radiant shockwave across Quajath’s armor, sending broken spines flying, then Fjord followed his strike with a long slash from the Star Razor. The glowing blade met soft flesh, slicing through blubber like a hot knife. The worm’s flesh sizzled on contact with the radiant weapon, cauterizing the wound and sending an awful stench wafting through the cave. From a distance, Calianna unleashed a green bolt at its writhing form which connected and began to eat away its armor and flesh the way that fire eats paper.

With Quajath’s strength failing and an opening for melee having been made, Yasha also stepped forward with her sword at the ready. She raised the blade overhead and gave a primal scream as she prepared to strike, and electricity arced down her arms as she swung. When her sword met flesh, lightning surged into Quajath’s body and sent it thrashing out of Keyleth’s grasp. The fighters dove out of the way as its head came free and the worm thrashed about in pain, throwing up sprays of earth as its spines scraped the ground.

The death throes were savage. The worm continued to thrash as electricity surged up and down its body, sending everyone running for cover to avoid being swept up. The screeching hiss that Quajath was screaming intensified to an ear-splitting volume, and Molly and Caleb had to break apart to throw their hands over their ears. Then the body went rigid, and everyone in the cave went rigid too, all save for Molly.

Shouts echoed around the cave as all the assembled people were assaulted by some unseen attack, doubling over in pain that didn’t seem to touch Molly at all. Panicking, he threw his body around Caleb like a shield, but then the assault passed as quick as it had come, leaving the wizard panting in his arms. A trickle of blood flowed from his nose.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Is it dead?”

“Keep burning it, we don’t know if it can regenerate!”

The voices of their allies echoed around as everyone gathered themselves after the mental assault, surveying the battlefield. Names were shouted, and Molly could see that a few of their friends had fallen. Clerics rushed to their sides and began healing spells, and Molly cast one of his own on Caleb’s shaking body in his arms. The tremors subsided somewhat.

“Caleb! Are you okay?” Veth skidded down the side of the crater, throwing up dust in her wake, and sprinted to his side. A line of blood trickled from her own nose, but she was heedless of her own injuries as she inspected her friend. She looked over his face, his head, and his clothes, checking for hidden injuries with gentle fingers. Finally satisfied, she threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly, smacking Molly with the limb of her crossbow.

“Don’t scare me like that! I thought you were worm food!” she whispered into Caleb’s ear, and he gripped her tightly in return.

“I am sorry. The memories just…” Caleb looked down at the ground, ashamed, and Veth pulled back to tut at him.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you’re alright.” She pinched his cheek, then turned to Molly. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“I couldn’t just stand by and let him get eaten now, could I?” Molly replied, then leaned in to kiss Caleb again. A gasp rang out from beyond the crater, and Molly couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. When he pulled back, Jester was beaming down at them.

“Oh my gosh you guys, they finally did it!” she called out, and Fjord slapped a coinpurse into Beau’s hand.

Quajath did not regenerate, at least that they could see. But Beau was insistent that they completely destroy the body, given that the last time it had been killed it had slowly regenerated over the course of hundreds of years and almost escaped unnoticed. Everyone was exhausted, but started the gruesome work of burning away the massive corpse with a mixture of arcane fire, acid, and necrotic spells. Huge parts of the body sloughed away to ash, dust, and muck until the spellcasters were entirely spent.

The remainder of the cultists had fallen babbling to the ground when Quajath died, their minds no longer controlled but also atrophied from so many years without thinking for themselves. A few attempts at Greater Restoration did show promise in restoring their minds, but it was more than the group could handle with their limited resources.

With no arcane energy left for magic mansions that day, they divided into three groups to bed down in a more traditional fashion. Caleb, Allura, and Sier each set up a dome, and everyone bedded down on the hard ground. Despite the subpar accommodations, sleep came quickly. Exhaustion was clear on everyone’s faces and in the way they moved, slowly and mechanically preparing for rest.

The Nein spread their bedrolls out in their dome, muscles already weakening at the prospect of rest. Emotionally exhausted as well as physically, Molly pulled Caleb close as he laid down, then tugged at Yasha’s trouser leg and gave her a pleading face. Never able to say no to him, Yasha laid down beside him and slotted their backs together. Molly curled his tail around her leg as she lifted the blanket, and Beau came down to curl up in her arms.

They all laid like that in a rough semi-circle, with Veth tucked against Caleb and Jester, Fjord, and Caduceus lined up after Beau, all taking comfort in one another’s presence.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Molly mumbled against Caleb’s neck.

“I can’t believe we lived,” Beau’s voice mumbled from behind him, and Yasha shifted, squeezing Molly’s tail gently with her legs.

Veth’s head popped up above Caleb’s chest. “We’re taking like, a month long vacation now, right?”

The echoing grunts of agreement were the only other sounds before they all slipped into a fitful sleep, fit together like pieces of a puzzle under their small shelter.

Chapter Text

Molly woke slowly in the hazy Nicodranas morning. They were a week into their long-overdue vacation, and still sleeping in every morning. A beam of sunlight peeking through the curtains onto Molly’s face made him groan and roll over, throwing an arm around Caleb’s sleeping figure. He curled up against Caleb’s back, enjoying the skin-on-skin contact in the cool morning air.

Sounds of the city wafted up through the open windows from the streets below, quiet footsteps of early risers out for walks and the clinking of dishes as a nearby café set up for the breakfast rush. Frumpkin purred away softly, curled up at the foot of the bed near Caleb’s feet.

Just as Molly began to drift off again, something tickled at the back of his mind. He blinked to awareness, noticing the sudden silence around him. It immediately sent the hair on the back of his neck on end.

It was unnaturally silent. Nicodranas was a sizable city that never truly slept, and at this hour there should by rights be a quiet din, or at least the distant sound of waves from the ocean. Molly tensed and opened his eyes a crack, looking about the room. Nothing immediately caught his eye, but the tingling in his head remained. Hyperaware of some unknown danger, he pulled at the power that dangled in the peripheral of his mind.

The room shifted in his vision as the enhanced awareness took effect, much the same as the first time he had called upon the power in the underwater temple of Uk’otoa. As his awareness expanded, a masked figure appeared, silvery and transparent. Invisible.

They were casting something from the far side of the room, halfway through a somatic gesture. Molly didn’t even think, he just reacted, throwing a hand out and willing them to stop.

All at once, the figure became visible in front of the window, Frumpkin disappeared in a puff of sparkling smoke, and sounds returned to the room. Molly shouted, and Caleb woke with a start.

There were no weapons close at hand, but at the moment it didn’t matter. Molly dove from the bed to grapple the attacker, pulling the sheet along with him to twist around them. Caleb scrambled for his components and swore in slurred Zemnian, still half asleep. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed open.

The assassin was quick, managing to slip out of Molly’s grasp despite the linens tangled around their limbs. They backed up a few steps and began casting again, and Molly braced for the impact of a spell. But one never came. The caster sputtered in shock and made a break for the window, but Molly tripped them with his tail and tackled them again.

The door burst open as someone came to their aid, and Molly flipped the assassin onto their back and pinned their wrists. In the shiny finish of their mask, he saw a red light reflected back at him.

Footsteps pounded to his side, and a metal staff swung down to crack the figure over the head. Their mask flew off, revealing the face of a young human woman with pale skin and freckles like Caleb’s. She spat Zemnian at them as Beau hit her again, then she attempted another spell.

“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep!” Beau repeated like a mantra as she swung again and again. At some point the others arrived, sleepy and confused, but the attacker was quickly subdued. They retrieved manacles from the Bag of Holding and secured her, then stood in a semicircle around the unmoving body laying on the floor, hogtied in irons.

Beau was the first to break the silence. “So, uh, what the fuck?”

“She looks like one of those Volstrucker.”

Caleb stepped forward and pulled back her sleeve, revealing a maze-like tattoo design. “Ja, she is. It looks like our dealings with the Cerberus Assembly have caught up to us.”

“Aren’t they supposed to be like, super sneaky killers or something?” Jester asked, stooping down to inspect the woman’s face. “How come we beat her so easily?”

“Yeah, she didn’t even get a spell off,” Beau agreed. “Usually wizards have a bit more fight in them. I expected more from the famed assassins of the Assembly.”

Caleb bit his lip and looked at Molly. Not his eyes, but his chest. Molly looked down at the red mark there, now dull and mundane, innocently tucked away among other tattoos on his chest, and raised a hand to cover it.

“Again?”

“Ja, but a different eye this time. It seemed to suppress magic somehow; I could not cast either.”

“Well, looks like our vacation is going to get cut short. Someone should message Veth.”

Jester did, and thankfully Veth was safe and sound with her family, but the group immediately set about packing to leave. They couldn’t stay here. It would endanger their loved ones if they did.

Once the others had left the room, Caleb closed the door with a click and hung his head.

“I am sorry I brought this upon you, Mollymauk.”

Molly crossed the room to take Caleb’s hands in his. “Caleb, dear, this wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known they would come.”

“Ack, but I should have known. I used to be one of them. In a way, this is my past coming for us.”

Frowning, Molly stroked his knuckles, feeling the deep divots between the joints. “At this point, darling, I think it’s safe to say that it’s not just your past that’s coming back to haunt us.” He tapped the red eye on his chest, the one that had been lit up mere minutes ago. “Everything seems to be connected. That assassin probably came because of what happened with Vess, and she had these on her, right? And now they’re manifesting strange powers in me. It’s something I’ve ignored for too long, and now it’s causing us problems. Perhaps it’s time I stopped ignoring my past and turned to face it.”

Caleb nodded, tearing his gaze away from Molly’s tattoos to look into his eyes.

“My past, the Cerberus Assembly, it is something that I have put off for too long as well.”

Molly traced a finger along one of the scars on Caleb’s arm, a physical reminder of his tortuous past. He reflected on just how far he would go to avenge the wrongs that had been done to his partner, and leaned their foreheads together.

“Well, it seems that it’s time for both of us to face our pasts now. Together.”

Caleb gave a soft smile, and raised a hand to stroke Molly’s cheek.

“Ja, together.”

~