Session 22

The familiar moment of disorienting darkness as they passed through the portal, soon became a surprising moment of disorientation as they stepped out.

Instead of the welcoming comfort of Alustriel’s sanctuary, the Succulent Juices emerged in what appeared to be an alleyway in a rather large city. The air had an acrid smell. Flecks of ash and soot floated around them making everyone cough.

Xalen’s eyes darted about in search of trouble, “What is this place?”

“Somewhere in Sigil, maybe?” Brabara suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Seknafret said. “The city of doors is kept in much better repair, and I don’t recall the air tasting of sulphur and ash.”

Ebyn appeared a few seconds later, coughing immediately upon taking a breath. “Where are we?”

A commotion further down the street caught their attention as a group of armed individuals, all dressed in matching leather coats, were harassing someone pulling a cart.

“Perhaps they’re the watch?” Brabara said, hopeful. “We could ask them where we are.”

She started to walk toward them when a figure called out from a partially open doorway not five paces away. “Quick,” the man said, thin arms signalling for them to enter. “Get inside before they see you!”

Brabara paused, head turning between the man and the armed soldiers. “But…”

“Hurry!” the man hissed. “They’ll be no help to you at all.”

He stood aside to let the four adventurers pass, then gave a quick look up and down the street before closing and bolting the door.

“I am Deurant,” the man said. “I’m sorry for the urgency but if the Dagger’s find you, you’ll end up in Kas’ army for sure. Adventurers like you would be a great prize for the local recruiters.”

Ebyn swallowed. “Did you say, Kas?”

Deurant nodded. “That’s right. The First Vampire, the Bloody Handed, the Betrayer, Lord of this sad realm.” He leaned back and pulled a dirty curtain aside to peer out the window. “They’ll be here soon. I have a place in the cellar where you can hide. I’ll explain more once the Dagger’s are gone.”

He shuffled to the corner of the room and moved an ash covered rug aside to reveal a trapdoor beneath. He pulled on the ring and the door swung open easily, its hinges clean and well oiled, quite a contrast to the rest of this place.

“Why do we have to go down there?” Brabara said, standing straighter to show her bulk.

“I can’t have the Dagger’s find you with me,” Deurant explained. “My children are down there, and if they see you here, they might decide to search my home more thoroughly.”

Brabara frowned. “Children?”

Deurant nodded. “Hina and Eurik,” the man motioned for them to climb the ladder down. “Please, they are all I have left, and I can’t – I won’t – lose them.”

Seknafret started down the ladder and the others followed. The space below was small with a few sacks of grain along with a barrel in one corner. In the other corner, peering wide-eyed from behind a blanket, was a boy and girl in their teens.

“Be quiet, my darlings,” Deurant said poking his head down into the cellar from above. “These people will hide in here with you until the Dagger’s move on.”

The children didn’t say a word as Duerant closed the trapdoor and replaced the rug, plunging the small space into darkness.

They waited for a few minutes, nobody daring to make a sound, when they heard a sharp rap on the door.

“Open up, old man.” A commanding voice called.

They heard the door open and the sound of booted feet walking on the wooden floor above them.

“You know the drill, old man,” the same voice said. “It says here you live alone. That still true?”

Deurant chuckled. “As if anyone would want me. I am well past my prime.”

“If you can’t fight you can still make more soldiers,” the voice said. “Tejen will have a wife assigned.”

“I’m too old for a wife,” Deurant protested.

“You fight, or you breed,” the Dagger said ominously. “Don’t do either and you’re a waste of food. You want we should reclaim your rations?”

“No!” Deurant replied, his voice a squeak.

The dagger sniggered. “Didn’t think so. Expect your new wife by week’s end.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The footsteps overhead made another circuit of Deurant’s small home and then walked out.

They waited in the darkness of the cellar for a few minutes after the daggers had left before the old man pulled open the trapdoor to let them all out.

“What goes on in this place,” Ebyn asked, still trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

Deurant sat with his arms wrapped around his children and sighed. “Tovag is a realm constantly at war. Kas needs soldiers for his armies and those of us who exist here live only to make sure he never runs out of bodies. How old would you guess my children are? How old would you guess I am?”

Seknafret looked at the three of them closely. “I would say your children are in their late teens and I would put your age in your fifties.”

Deurant nodded. “In truth, my boy is just ten years old, and my daughter is only eight. I, myself, am thirty-two years old.”

Brabara sucked her breath. “How can that be?”

“Tovag is a joyless place,” Duerant began. “To ensure a steady supply of fodder for his armies, Kas has placed a curse on this realm that makes us age quickly, and if you stay too long here it will start to affect you as well.”

“That’s monstrous,” Seknafret said.

Deurant nodded. “The rapid aging stops once you are conscripted into the army and sent off to fight in other realms, but those of us here have no purpose other than to make more soldiers for Kas’ forever wars.”

“The depravity!” Ebyn spat.

“This is why some of us fight,” Duerant said, squeezing his children tightly.

“To what end?” Xalen asked. “Kill Kas?”

“Yes, if we can defeat the Dark Lord, then the curse might be lifted for a time, and we can exist in peace for a generation or two before the cycle begins anew.”

Brabara stared wide-eyed at the two children, “How can we help?”

“I can put you in touch with Vocar, the leader of the resistance in Tor Gorak, the city in which we stand.” Deurant looked at them, his eyes pleading. “Perhaps with your help we might finally find a way to rid ourselves of this curse and my children can lead normal lives.”

Brabara nodded. “Let’s go then.”

“Hang on,” Ebyn said. “As terrible as this all is, we don’t have time to get ourselves mixed up in this, Brabara.”

Brabara rolled her eyes. “Is this going to be another speech about how we have a multiverse to save and if we fail in that anything else we do here is irrelevant?”

Ebyn nodded. “Good, so I don’t have to explain it. You already understand. We must find a way out of here so we can resume our quest.”

“The thing is, Ebyn,” Brabara said, a grim expression on her face. “These people are in trouble now and we can help them now. Not in some theoretical future, or whatever.”

Deurant’s eyes moved between them. “I did not mean to cause any conflict. I appreciate your offer of aid, but we have lived like this for generations and have found ways to adapt. Please do not let our predicament distract you from some greater purpose.”

“See,” Ebyn said. “Deurant understands. Once we have stopped Vecna, we can return here and deal with Kas also.”

Brabara grimaced. “Fine. But I want us to agree that we return here as soon as we can. These people don’t deserve what is being done to them.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Ebyn said.

Deurant smiled. “You all look exhausted. Why not rest here tonight and I will take you to meet Vocar in the morning.”

Hearing the offer of sleep made them realise just how tired they all were, so the group settled down for a long overdue rest.

That night, though, the dreams returned.

A single eye cracks open and a head rises slightly to peer down at a desiccated body lying on a stone slab in some underground chamber. Dimly the figure becomes aware of a rhythmic chanting all around it, the eldritch words sound familiar but at least for now their meaning is lost to its sluggish mind. The figure cranes its neck and opens its lone eye to see robed humanoids surrounding the slab. Each one held a book, the cover of which appears to be made from humanoid flesh.

The leader of the robed figures looms over the body on the slab, the book open toward him. The symbols on the page, though beautiful yet alien at first, begin to assume meaning and a memory forms. A name at first … its name… Vecna!

Awareness of the name fills the being with memories. Thoughts and images come back in a flood. Experiments, victories, betrayal. The last strikes hardest of all and it lets out an anguished moan.

Slowly movement and power begin to flow to its arms and legs, and it raises its hands, noting the left one is missing, chopped off at the wrist by your beloved Kas.

Beloved? The pain of that betrayal was almost too much to bear, and another anguished moan is pulled from dead flesh. It focuses on the chanting, the words clear, their purpose, clear, their power clear. Magic infuses the husk of a body like it did once long ago, but it feels somehow distant, as if someone or something is keeping it from truly feeling the arcane power.

Understanding blossoms.

It is the fools around you who have placed themselves between the flesh and the power. It is they who are blocking its return. Vecna studies the chant again, the incantations they weave seek to use this body as a symbol, a vessel, a mere conduit so that they may wield power through it.

This will not do.

Carefully Vecna interjects his own eldritch words – subtly modifying the incantation so that the body can take from them, not they from it. At first nothing seems to happen but soon the flow of power is reversed and before the chanters understand what has happened their life force is consumed to restore the body.

All around him, the robed figures collapse in a twisted heap and Vecna rises fully formed, save for a missing hand and eye.

The nightmare bit hard after the all too brief respite, and both Brabara and Ebyn suffered as a result. Seknafret once again reversed the debilitating effect of the nightmare but only after expending powerful magic that delayed the group’s departure until almost midday.

Ebyn, once he’d transcribed the nightmare into his journal, used the morning to consult the auguries to try and understand why the group ended up here instead of Alustriel’s sanctum, and what became of Mordenkainen after their departure.

“What did you learn?” Seknafret said.

“Some good news,” Ebyn said. “Mordenkainen is alive and safe. He must have fled after we passed through the portal but I don’t know why he didn’t just follow us through.”

“Maybe he couldn’t,” Xalen said. “The portal was collapsing. Perhaps it failed completely after you passed through it.”

“Hmm,” Ebyn said, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. I don’t know. You’re correct, that is the most logical explanation, but I wonder if there’s more to it.”

“What about your other question?” Seknafret prompted.

“Just confirmation of our suspicions,” Ebyn said. “The Dark Lord in Barovia altered the portal so it would lead us here.”

“Great,” Xalen said. “Now what?”

Ebyn shrugged. “Now we go talk to this Vocar person Deurant mentioned.”

Brabara looked up. “I thought we weren’t going to waste time helping these people now?”

“We’re not,” Ebyn said. “But Vocar is the leader of the resistance. He might have some knowledge about how we can get away from here and back to Sigil.”

---

Deurant led the Succulent Juices through Tor Goruk via a convoluted series of alleys and back streets, stopping or doubling back several times to avoid Dagger patrols, until they arrived at an abandoned church dedicated to the Morninglord.

They ducked into the ruined worship chamber and descended a set of stone steps cleverly hidden behind a cracked marble font.

The stairs ended at a small meeting room with benches where a few rag-tag individuals wearing hooded cloaks sat. A map of Tor Gorak had been mounted on the wall of the chamber with several notations and routes marked on it. There had been edits to the map over time with new routes replacing old ones and notations showing updated numbers.

“What are they?” Xalen asked, studying the map.

“The routes for Dagger patrols,” Deurant said. “We use them to keep track of their movements so we can stay ahead of them and keep important things safe.”

Xalen’s eyes widened. “Wow. Do you have people inside the Daggers?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only way we get such intelligence,” Deurant said. “Vocar sees things in his dreams.”

Before Xalen could ask anything more about that, a door to the chamber opened and a large man entered.

“Brother Deurant,” the man said in a deep croaking voice. “I see you have some newcomers with you. Are they here for an awakening?”

“Not exactly, sir,” Deurant began. “I saw them arrive through some kind of magical doorway. Luckily, I was able to keep them hidden from the Daggers. They asked to speak with you so I brough them here. I hope I did the right thing?”

The large man walked up to Deurant and placed a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “Of course, brother.”

Deurant stood a little straighter and had a wide smile on his face.

The man turned his attention to the party. “I am Vocar, the Sleeper. I have the privilege of leading the resistance in Tor Gorak.” His eyes narrowed as he looked them all up and down. “Who do I have the pleasure of greeting this day?”

“We four are members of the Neverwinter City Watch,” Brabara announced, proudly.

Vocar’s eyes narrowed. “Law enforcement, eh? We have a complicated relationship with people of that kind here.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Brabara said, her face reddening. “What’s being done to the people here is terrible and if we could we’d like to help stop it.”

Vocar smiled. “I see, that is excellent news. We could surely use people with your experience and skills in our efforts.”

Ebyn cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Vocar, we don’t want to get off on the wrong foot here and give you the wrong impression. Yes, we certainly do sympathise with the plight of the people here, but we are on an urgent quest to save the multiverse itself and cannot set that aside at this time.”

“I see,” Vocar said. “Can you elaborate on this quest of yours?”

“Does the name, Vecna mean anything to you?” Ebyn said.

Vocar’s eyes widened for a moment. “It should surprise you if it did not, given where we are. Everyone in this realm has some knowledge of Vecna, and the great battle between the arch-lich and Kas that doomed them both.”

“Doomed?” asked Xalen.

“Oh yes,” said Vocar. “After their battle the Dark Powers who control these Dread Realms took them both. Kas was sent to Tovag while, much later, Vecna was sent to Cavitus and the two have been in conflict ever since.”

“My understanding was that each of the Dread Realms were closed off from one another. Separated by the Mists.” Ebyn said.

Vocar nodded. “That is true, but the Dark Powers are nothing if not cruel. They allowed Tovag and Cavitus to touch creating an endless struggle for both sides where neither ever gets the upper hand… or at least, never for very long.”

“Does that mean that there is no way out of here?” Xalen asked.

“None, I’m afraid,” Vocar said.

“So, we’re stuck here?” Brabara said, a familiar sense of dread creeping into her gut. “I’ll never see Tiny again?”

“The Vistani are able to travel beyond the mists from Barovia,” Xalen said. “Maybe we should find them. Are there any Vistani here in Tovag?”

Vocar shook his head. “I am not familiar with a people like that, and each Dread Realm is unique. Only the Dark Lord can allow such travel…” Vocar paused a moment as he thought, then snapped his fingers. “Of course, that may be the answer.”

“Go on,” Ebyn said.

“While it is true that the Mists prevent exit, The Dark Lord has what is called a Transplanar Nexus, which allows him to open portals in the Mists. It’s how travellers such as yourselves occasionally become trapped here. With that, you should be able to create a portal and send yourself home.”

Xalen scoffed. “I don’t expect Kas is going to just let us waltz in there and use this Transplanar thingy.”

“I expect not,” Vocar said unphased by Xalen’s tone. “But you four do seem formidable, perhaps you could find a way into the tower and take control of the nexus. And, if you happen to kill Kas along the way then … well, that helps everyone.”

Ebyn’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know all of this?”

“I have seen it,” Vocar said matter-of-factly. “I see a great deal in my dreams. It is for this reason that they call me ‘The Sleeper.’” He spread his arms to indicate Deurant and others who all nodded in agreement.

“Without Vocar’s visions we’d have never been able to avoid the Daggers for this long,” Deurant added. “We’d all be dead, or worse, without him.”

There were several mumbles of assent at Deurant’s words.

“Perhaps, with your help,” Vocar said, a hopeful note to his voice. “Even if you don’t manage to defeat Kas, we can gain control of the nexus long enough to get some of our children out?”

“I don’t know,” Seknafret said. “This is all starting to sound rather ambitious. Sneaking into the Dark Lord’s tower with a bunch of children in tow is more than likely going to get us all killed.”

Vocar tapped his chin for a moment. “Yes, indeed. I suspect you are right. We already have people in place not far from the tower. If you do manage to secure the nexus you might get a signal out to them – then we can come in after you if it is safe to do so.” He looked at each of them. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a stupid idea,” Ebyn said.

“Please,” Deurant said. “Even if this is a fool’s errand, I can’t let my children die pointlessly in one of Kas’s wars. Even a small hope is better than no hope at all.”

Again, there were murmurs of assent from the others in the room.

“They’re right, Ebyn,” Brabara said. “We might be the best chance these poor people have had in a long time.”

Ebyn looked up to see Vocar watching him closely. “Fine,” he said finally. “Let’s go find the Transplanar Nexus.”

Vocar clapped once and let out a long breath. “You have no idea how much this means to us. Thank you.”

“In the meantime,” Ebyn added. “I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the nexus in as much detail as you are able to tell me.”

Vocar nodded and explained what he could.

---

The Succulent Juices walked along The Karsican Way, the only real road through the realm of Tovag.

According to Vocar, it would take them three days to reach the Dark Lord’s fortress from Tor Gorak, and he warned them to expect to meet people. Traffic volume is typically low but, it being the only real road in the realm, meant that all travellers used that road.

The constant pall of dust and ash reduced visibility so much that it was all but impossible to see anyone coming unless they happened to be making a lot of noise.

The first traveller appeared as a silhouette, hunched, dragging a two-wheeled cart that creaked with each step. She paused when she saw them, shifting to the side of the road, head bowed in quiet deference.

Then came the growls. Low, guttural, and wrong. They rolled through the haze like thunder through fog.

The figure stiffened. A heartbeat passed. Then a cry, sharp, panicked, and unmistakably human. The woman bolted, abandoning her cart as three hulking shapes surged from the gloom behind her.

Brabara stepped forward, glaive already in hand. Her boots crunched gravel as she advanced, her weapon gleaming. The first beast lunged at the woman but met steel instead. Brabara’s glaive arced down, splitting the air and striking true. The creature howled, staggering.

The other two veered wide, flanking her, eyes locked on their prey.

“Come this way!” Xalen shouted, pointing to a jagged outcrop of stone. “The rocks, there! They’ll shield you!”

Seknafret raised her hand, fingers crackling with arcane power. Eldritch blasts tore through the haze, striking the beasts mid-charge. One stumbled, its momentum broken, giving the woman time to dive behind the rocks.

Xalen loosed an arrow. Ebyn followed with a burst of flame. The second beast shrieked, its hide scorched and pierced. Brabara pressed her assault, glaive flashing in rhythmic fury, driving the first creature back with each blow.

Seknafret joined the woman at the rocks, her voice low and steady as she unleashed another volley of force. The third predator snarled, its advance slowed by the barrage.

Steel, arrows, and magic wove together in deadly harmony and in moments, the beasts lay broken and still.

Silence returned, heavy and sudden, broken only by the woman collapsed behind the rocks, sobbing into her hands.

“Thank you, thank you,” she managed. “I’d have been dead for sure were you not around.”

“What are you doing out here alone?” Brabara said having pulled the woman’s cart across to her.

“I am Toja,” the woman said. “I was collecting my daughter’s payment. For her service in the army. It’s a journey I make each month.”

“Surely they could make such payments available in the city,” Seknafret said.

Toja shrugged. “I suppose they could.”

“Will you be ok from here?” Brabara said as the woman took hold of her cart once more.

“The city is not too much further,” she said as she started walking. “Again, thank you.”

The group watched as Toja trudged down the road and disappeared into the smog. Brabara let out a long sigh then turned and resumed their walk.

“These so-called Dread Realms do more to punish their inhabitants than they do any of the Dark Lords,” Seknafret observed. “I wonder what game these Dark Powers are truly playing.”

The group made camp once darkness fell, and now that the nightmares had returned, sleep no longer served as the refuge it once had. Tonight, as it did last night, the dream overtook them.

Vecna, having restored some of his power, still suffered from the battle with Kas.

He tried to find word of his apprentice, Acererak, and learned that centuries had passed since the day he and Kas fought. In that time, Acererak had taken his own path to lichdom and had long ago sequestered himself away in a veritable underground maze, famed for its deadly traps and maddening puzzles.

Vecna worked his way through Acererak’s Tomb of Horrors to find his apprentice’s body. Instead, he found only powdered bones and a gem encrusted skull. Acererak had gone too long without feeding and now existed as a mere demi-lich.

He considered reversing Acererak’s decay and restoring his body but decided against it. The past can remain the past and new lieutenants would be found to rebuild his powerbase but this time he would be careful to keep them at a distance.

Never again would he trust anyone as he had trusted Kas.

Vecna learned that legends surrounding his severed hand and eye had spawned cults in his name throughout the Flannaes. Vecna appeared to each of them to secure their loyalty and to target their worship toward him directly instead of his blighted severed parts.

Vecna understood the flow of power. Worship, done properly, can be a significant source of power. To that end, he composes a fixed dogma, a prescribed and consistent way for his worshipers to follow him and thus begin to channel the power of their devotion his way.

He resists the temptation to bring his cults together, choosing instead to keep them separate lest any of them grow ambitious and seek to overthrow him as Kas did.

Secrecy and forbidden knowledge become the cornerstone of his faith and slowly his power begins to grow again.

The group awoke, tired as always after such a vivid dream but all except Brabara seemed relatively unaffected. Brabara, however, was bone tired, barely able to stand and it took another serious dose of Seknafret’s restoration magic to make her fit enough to keep walking.

Even so, there was something still not quite right in the way she carried herself, but their mind-numbing slog through the ash choked wilderness with no visible horizon made them all feel off balance.

Ebyn completed transcribing the dream then, once he’d stowed his journal, laid four ivory strips in a square surrounding a bowl of incense.

“What are you doing?” Xalen asked.

“I plan to use my magic to learn more about the Extraplanar Nexus,” Ebyn said.

Xalen frowned. “I thought Vocar already told you about it?”

“He did,” Ebyn said. “And the information he provided will make the answers I get now more accurate.”

“Is this going to take long?” Xalen asked.

Ebyn shook his head. “Ten minutes or so. Besides,” Ebyn pointed. “I think Brabara could use a bit more time to pull herself together.”

Xalen looked over to where Ebyn indicated. He spotted Brabara struggling with her backpack. “What are you doing, idiot?” Xalen said and walked across to help.

Ebyn closed his eyes for a moment to centre himself. After checking the position of the four ivory strips he lit the incense while whispering arcane words. The fragrant smoke rose, adding a momentary hint of blossom to the sulphur and ash that hung perpetually over the realm. His hands moved in an intricate pattern over the bowl as the incense burned down all the while speaking words of power. Ebyn’s words became more pronounced, more insistent. He practically yelled into the bowl before the remaining incense was consumed in a bright flash. He remained still for a few moments before collecting the four ivory strips and placing them back in his component pouch.

“Did you learn anything useful?” Seknafret said.

Ebyn took several mouthfuls from his waterskin before speaking. “The nexus consists of a circle of runes worked into the floor of the room,” he began, “but this much I knew already from Vocar’s description. My spell has revealed how to operate the device.”

“That is good to know,” Xalen said. “What do we need to do?”

“It is not dissimilar to the portal Alustriel has in her sanctum. By standing within the circle and activating the runes it will generate a portal. The combination of runes determines where the portal will open. However, it can be used just once each dawn, and the portal will remain open for just ten minutes. Passage is possible only in one direction at the discretion of the user at the time of activation.”

“Did your spell reveal what runes will get us back to Sigil?” Seknafret asked.

Ebyn shook his head. “None, I’m afraid. Sigil is blocked to such travel by the Lady of Pain. We must travel first to Toril and from there contact Alustriel and have her open a portal back to the sanctum.”

A pot clanged to the ground at Brabara’s feet. “Gods damn it!”

Xalen sighed. “I’ll go help her.”

---

The juices broke camp and resumed their journey along the Karsican Way.

After the fog of the Mournlands, the perpetual gloom of Barovia, and now the smog here, Seknafret was glad she’d taken the opportunity to visit Anauroch. Even still, the oppressive feeling of being trapped coupled with the return of the traumatic nightmares made for a sullen journey as they trudged along the hard packed road.

They travelled for a couple of hours when Xalen’s ears twitched. “Cart,” he hissed. “Coming up behind us.”

Without a word, the party slipped behind a small collection of boulders, crouching low as smog curled in the air. Minutes passed. Then the cart emerged from the haze, two sturdy horses pulling a heavy wooden wagon. Four Daggers lounged atop it, their armour dusty, their blades at ease. Between them, shackled and silent, sat two children, eyes wide, wrists bound in iron.

Brabara’s breath caught. Her knuckles whitened around her glaive. Then she roared.

The sound tore through the stillness like a warhorn. She surged from cover, a blur of fury and steel, charging the cart with reckless abandon.

Seknafret stepped into the road, eyes aglow with eldritch fire. With a flick of her hand, twin bolts of crackling force slammed into the drivers, hurling them from their perch. They hit the dirt hard, weapons clattering.

Xalen moved like a shadow, bow already drawn. His arrows sang through the air, striking the two Daggers in the back with surgical precision just as they reached for their bows.

Above, Ebyn soared into view, winged boots flapping. Firebolts rained from his fingertips, searing the earth around the fallen Daggers, forcing them to scatter and scramble for cover.

The horses, unbothered by the chaos, continued their steady trot, dragging the cart forward as oblivious to the battle around them.

Seknafret vanished in a shimmer of violet light then reappeared atop the driver’s bench. With a sharp tug of the reins and a whispered word, she brought the cart to a halt. The children flinched, but she offered a quick nod of reassurance before turning her gaze back to the fray.

Behind her, Brabara was a whirlwind. The four Daggers had regrouped, blades drawn, but she met them head-on. Her glaive danced in wide, brutal arcs, each swing a promise of pain. She drove them back, carving crimson lines into leather and flesh, her fury a shield as much as a weapon.

The ambush had lasted less than a minute.

One by one, the Daggers fell, stunned, scorched, or bleeding in the dust. The last tried to flee, but Xalen’s arrow found his spine before he could vanish into the haze.

Brabara stood over the fallen, chest heaving, eyes wild. “Ankles,” she spat.

Seknafret was already among the children’s chains with a whispered incantation. “You’re safe now,” she said gently, her voice a balm after the storm. “Xalen, can you release these chains?”

Xalen looked up and flew over to the cart where he set about freeing the children from their restraints.

“I’m Seknafret, and this is Xalen,” she said while placing a hand on Xalen’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine. What are your names?”

The eldest child looked up. “I’m Dorta,” she began, “and this is my brother, Hector.”

Seknafret smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Dorta, and you too, Hector. How old are you?”

“Eleven,” the girl replied, “and he’s nine.”

Seknafret gasped, the two of them looked to be in their mid-to-late teens. “And why did the men have you locked up like this?”

“We’ve been recruited,” Dorta sobbed. “Our da’ traded us for extra rations, said it was time we did our part to help our brothers and sisters.”

Seknafret felt a sudden flash of anger. “Your father just gave you to these men?”

Dorta shrugged. “It was our time.”

The locks clicked open, and Xalen dragged the chains free from the two children. “How many brothers and sisters do you have, Hector?” he asked the boy as he tossed the chains into the rear of the cart, noting that the boy had been watching closely while Xalen worked the locks.

“There’s five of us,” the boy replied sheepishly.

“Armpits have apples on a budgie,” Brabara said as she approached the cart, her face unreadable. “Are treetops smelling monkeys inside?”

Seknafret, Xalen, and the two children looked at her strangely.

“What are you babbling on about, Brabara?” Xalen asked after a moment.

“Breasts and penis, always need a tablecloth,” Brabara said.

Ebyn had flown down and exchanged a worried glance with Seknafret. “Perhaps some kind of curse has afflicted our corpulent friend. Do you have any magic that might help her?”

Seknafret shook her head. “Not right now, but if we were to take a short rest, I might be able to do so.”

“What are we going to do with these children?” Ebyn queried.

“Stones smell lightning pot plants!” Brabara said, with an insistent tone. “Apples, apples, apples!”

Everyone looked at Brabara as if she had sprouted a second head.

“They are coming with us,” Seknafret said, eventually.

Ebyn sighed. “Need I remind you where we are going? The Fortress of Kas does not sound like a welcoming place for children.”

“Vocar told us he had agents in the area watching the place,” Seknafret said. “We leave the children with them before going in.”

Brabara was nodding in agreement. Maybe. Her head, at least, was bobbing up and down, but the repeating circular motion of her elbow did introduce a level of doubt regarding that interpretation. “Monkey penis breast,” she said to emphasise whatever it was she meant.

“Ok, but we can’t travel with her like this,” Ebyn said.

Seknafret nodded. “Agreed. Let’s clean up here and take the cart a bit further up the road before we make camp, though.”

The group dragged the bodies some distance off the road and stripped them of their distinctive long leather coats. When they had collected all four uniforms, they tucked the corpses behind rocks so they wouldn’t be seen by other travellers and then drove the cart on. The children said nothing, they just huddled together on the cart behind Seknafret as she guided the horses. While the other three walked along behind. They travelled for about a mile before Seknafret pulled over.

The group stopped and made a quick camp, pulling rations and waterskins out and sharing these with the frightened children. Ebyn used cantrips to clean the stolen uniforms and passed them to Xalen who used needle and thread to repair the most visible damage while Brabara muttered nonsense and twitched.

With everyone fed, rested, and the uniforms cleaned and adjusted, Ebyn sat apart from the group some distance and began casting a divination ritual, hoping to make some sense of what afflicted Brabara.

With his eyes closed, he spoke a long series of arcane words while Seknafret looked on. This spell carried a risk of injury and mental distress, so Seknafret remained on hand ready to assist if the worst happened, letting out a long breath when Ebyn finally opened his eyes.

“Are you ok?” Seknafret asked.

Ebyn nodded. “All good.”

“What did you learn?” Brabara queried, and everyone’s eyes turned to look at her. “What?” the big warrior said, suddenly uncomfortable at being the centre of attention.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Xalen said. “Since that fight started you’ve been spouting gibberish and jittering like you had ants crawling over your body.”

Brabara raised an eyebrow. “I have?”

Ebyn stared at her for a long time. “Well, I did learn that whatever came over you is not magical in nature, so we can rule out any kind of curse or charm. I also learned that Kas appears to be absent from Tovag which should make getting to the nexus easier for us.”

Seknafret tapped her chin. “That is odd.”

“Indeed,” Ebyn said. “In my studies with Mordenkainen it is an established fact that dark lords were supposed to be imprisoned within their demi-plane.”

“Vecna did it,” Xalen offered. “So why not Kas, too?”

Brabara looked at Xalen sharply. “How do you know Vecna is free?”

Xalen shrugged. “It stands to reason that he’s not there. Otherwise Mordenkainen, Alustriel, and Tasha wouldn’t be having such a hard time finding him.”

Ebyn nodded. “Xalen’s logic is sound. I was able to confirm that Mordenkainen is not in league with Vecna or his agents so it makes sense that Vecna would not still be present in Cavitus.”

Seknafret sucked a breath. “Why would you need to ask that?”

“Something has been niggling at me,” Ebyn explained. “Why the need to retain the pieces of the Rod we have found? Why not let us keep them so we might use the magic they provide? Also, the last time we saw Mordenkainen he was standing alone against Strahd and four of the vampire’s nightmare cavalry. Yet my previous divination confirmed that Mordenkainen was safe. It seemed an anomaly, so I sought clarification.”

“And now that you have it?” Seknafret asked.

Ebyn climbed to his feet. “I am once more assured of the righteousness of our cause,” he cast a glance at Brabara, “even if my concerns over the stability of my company remain. Let’s get moving.”

Seknafret looked on as Ebyn climbed into the wagon. The young wizard sat down beside the children without acknowledging their presence. Seknafret sighed, something had changed in Ebyn. She snorted, recalling Brabara’s recent strange behaviour, something had changed in all of them perhaps,

The party drove the cart along the road for several hours. As the weak sun sank toward the distant horizon, and the darkness of twilight swept the land, the ground was suddenly shaken by a violent quake, followed seconds later by a loud thunderous boom and a rush of sudden wind that momentarily cleared the persistent smog.

They all froze as the sound split the sky, one of the towering volcanoes encircling the wide valley had erupted in a blinding gush of flame. A second shockwave rippled through the earth, and with a deep, groaning crack, the rocky ground beneath them split open. From the glowing fissures surged four massive fire elementals, their molten forms coalescing into giant shapes of wrath and heat, encircling the cart like predators closing in on prey.

The children’s screams pierced the air, high and panicked, as the blazing giants advanced. Brabara didn’t hesitate. She hurled herself forward, glaive flashing, intercepting the nearest elemental with a defiant roar. Sparks flew as her blade met the creature’s burning hide, halting its advance by sheer force of will.

But the others were fast, unnaturally fast. One slipped past her; its ember eyes locked on the cart. It raised colossal fists, each the size of a barrel, glowing with furnace heat. Ebyn hovered above the chaos, his mind fracturing into a thousand branching timelines. In one, Hector lived. In another, he died. He could have chosen to save the boy.

He chose to let him die.

The fists came down like falling stars. The boy’s scream was cut short in a sickening crunch, and silence fell. A silence more terrible than the roar of the volcano.

Seknafret stood from the driver’s bench, her face a mask of fury and focus. She carved sigils into the air with her fingers, each stroke glowing with arcane fire. With a sharp pop, two of the elementals vanished, sucked into a pocket dimension with a sound like a cork pulled from the mouth of hell. Ebyn, still aloft, whispered a word that bent the fabric of reality, and the remaining two were ripped from the world, banished to the plane that birthed them.

Xalen rushed to Dorta, who knelt frozen, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at her brother’s charred body. Brabara paced the perimeter, her glaive held low and ready, eyes scanning the cracked earth for any sign of resurgence.

“Angry monkey balls eat pinecones,” she muttered.

Seknafret and Ebyn remained in place, their brows furrowed in concentration. The air shimmered as they anchored the banishments, ensuring the elementals would not claw their way back. Then, with grim determination, Seknafret drew a fistful of diamonds from her pouch. The price of defying death. She pressed them to Hector’s scorched chest and whispered the words of return.

A golden light flared, soft and searing, as the diamonds crumbled to ash. Hector’s body arched, then convulsed with a ragged cough. Smoke curled from his lips. His eyes fluttered open.

Dorta let out a strangled sob and threw her arms around him, her tears hissing as they struck the still warm wood of the cart.

Ebyn floated down some distance from the cart and signalled for Seknafret to join him.

Seknafret quickly checked over the boy and used a little more magic to heal his burns before climbing down from the cart and walking over to where Ebyn was waiting.

“What’s up?” the warlock said as she neared the mage.

“We need to stay focused on the bigger picture,” Ebyn began. “The fate of the entire multiverse hinges on what we are doing, and we can’t afford to lose sight of what’s at stake.”

“Has everyone started spouting gibberish?” Seknafret’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“The boy,” Ebyn said as if it were obvious what he was referring to. “You undoubtedly did a good thing, but it cost us valuable resources. Resources we might need ourselves as we continue the mission. The mission must come first, no matter the cost, failure is just not an option.”

“And?” she said.

“And I just wanted to make sure that you understood that.” Ebyn said.

Seknafret looked at Ebyn flatly. She held his gaze for an uncomfortably long time before letting out a slow breath. “Noted,” she said, then turned and walked back to the cart.

“Trees climb cats under water,” Brabara called out happily.

Xalen spent a few minutes calming the horses, holding their heads and whispering to each one in turn as he stroked their cheeks. In time, they’d calmed enough for Seknafret to get the cart moving again.

Ebyn held back a moment, watching the cart trundle away down the road. Was he the only one truly focused on stopping Vecna and saving everyone?

He looked on as Seknafret drove their fire damaged cart into the smog, Xalen and the children sitting in the back, with Brabara walking along behind. The big warrior turned when she noticed Ebyn wasn’t following and flailed her two arms about in an exaggerated wave while calling out a string of nonsense words.

Ebyn lifted into the sky with a sigh and followed his companions, a deep feeling of despair lodged firmly in his gut.

They pulled the cart off the road and made a sullen camp soon after sunset. Ebyn used his magic to create a tiny hut which they all stayed inside. Nobody seemed to be in the mood for conversation. Brabara, whenever she did talk, made no sense, and even her nonverbal communication was undecipherable. In the end she just sat with her knees pressed up against her chest and rocked back and forth.

The desultory mood became worse when the nightmare took them.

Vecna stood outside in the grounds of a ruined temple of Pholtus.

The great moon, Luna, was full in the sky above, its bright silver light creating a halo in the scattered clouds around it. The smaller moon, Celene, was moving past the greater moon. Its small, shadowed shape passed right before Luna in a perfect eclipse, giving the distinct impression of a single enormous eye in the sky.

All over the Flannaes, secret cults to Vecna chanted in unison with the words Vecna had given them. Words of power written to demonstrate their devotion to him and structured in such a way to be synchronized everywhere despite the distance between the many isolated sects.

As Celene reaches the very centre of Luna’s silver circle, the power of that devotion is channelled from them, out from his worshippers and into Vecna himself. Their faith flowed into the arch lich in an ever-growing stream of raw power.

Vecna felt strong, stronger than when he’d first stolen the life force of the elves in the City of Summer Stars. Joy, exultation, warmth, happiness even, a feeling of undeniable magnificence overcame him, and he ascended then to the ranks of the gods.

The party awoke, uncomfortable and shaken by the shared dream, but also oddly exalted by the powerful feelings they’d experienced. They’d felt what it is to become a god, a feeling that so many despots and petty tyrants might never experience.

True, unbridled power.

For the first time since the dreams began, Ebyn really suffered and Seknafret had to use her magic to restore him. The pair hadn’t spoken since their exchange after the battle with the elementals but still, she felt no ill will toward the young wizard.

Seknafret knew better than most how the burden of others’ expectations might weigh a person down. Ebyn felt that weight, she knew he considered himself the only one of them who understood the enormity of their task, so he chose to carry that weight alone. He’d have to realise on his own that he was anything but alone.

They broke camp and continued driving the cart toward the Fortress of Kas. Barring any unexpected delay, they hoped to reach the imposing structure by mid-afternoon.

Just before midday the group spotted four hooded figures walking on the road toward them. The travellers scattered for cover as soon as they noticed the cart ahead of them. Seknafret kept the cart moving at a steady pace until they reached the place where the others had left the road.

“We are not looking for any trouble,” Seknafret called out. “We are not Daggers, if that helps.”

“If you’re not Daggers, then what are you?” a voice called out from behind a large boulder to their right.

“We are in league with the resistance,” Brabara yelled. “We rescued these children and are looking for somewhere safe to leave them.”

A figure stepped out from behind a boulder to the left and walked onto the road. “You’re from The Sleeper?”

Seknafret nodded. “In a way. Vocar told us about the Transplanar Nexus in the Fortress of Kas, we aim to use it to find a way home.”

At mention of Vocar’s name the other travellers emerged from hiding and approached the cart.

“I am Rolen,” the first man said. “This is Carl, Lysa, and Eric. We are on our way back to Tor Gorak to get help.”

“Help for what?” Ebyn queried. “We’ve been watching the fortress for a couple of weeks. The place seems oddly quiet. One of our team, Xorala, decided to try and sneak in.” Rolen paused for a moment and looked down, “She hasn’t come out.”

“And you just left her there?” Brabara scoffed.

Rolen looked up, a pained expression on his face. “No, there’s still a few of us in place, but we had to let Vocar know what’s happened.”

“Why not go in and rescue her?” Brabara pressed, judgement plain in her tone.

“We’re not fighters,” Rolan said. “And even though it’s quiet now, the place is guarded. Xolara was the only one of us trained in anything beyond scouting.”

Seknafret thought for a moment. “We had hoped to leave the children with you once we reached the fortress, but perhaps you can take them with you back to the city.”

“There’s nothing in that place for us anymore,” Dorta said. “Our da’ won’t be pleased to have us back. It’ll just cause him and the little ones more trouble.”

Seknafret closed her eyes and shook her head. “These domains of dread are truly awful places.”

“We’ll look after you,” Rolen said. “We have a place where you will be safe.”

“Ok,” Seknafret said. “You should take the cart with you.”

“No!” Ebyn said sharply. “We should keep the cart. The Daggers we killed to save the children were in a cart and if we aim to show up pretending to be them, we should have a cart too.”

“And when we show up without the children?” Seknafret queried.

Ebyn pointed to the fire damage caused by the elementals. “We can say they were killed on the way.”

“It makes sense,” Brabara added. “We should keep the cart.”

Seknafret nodded and knelt beside the children. “These men will take you with them. You’ll be much safer with them than with us. Okay?”

Dorta and Hector both nodded. “We understand.”

The children climbed out of the cart and joined the company of resistance scouts heading back toward the city, while the group resumed the journey to the fortress.