Session 34

The sewer tunnel was unlike anything any of them had seen before.

A perfectly straight, perfectly circular passage carved from whatever bedrock Sigil rested upon. A stone‑paved walkway ran along the inside of the curve, just above the halfway point, allowing them to walk three abreast while a steady flow of surprisingly clean water rushed beneath. Dark stains on the seamless walls marked a high‑water line well above their heads.

“I wouldn’t want to be down here when the sewers flood again,” Xalen said, raising his voice over the roar of water.

“Indeed,” Ebyn replied. “I wonder what triggers such an event. I’ve only ever seen it drizzle here, yet these appear to be made to handle torrential downpours.”

“Who fucking cares,” Brabara snapped. “We’re here to find Tiny, not talk about civil engineering.”

Xalen began scanning the walkway and walls for signs of passage. He spotted something and motioned for them to follow.

They moved slowly, pausing at each intersection while Xalen studied the faintest marks – scuffs, smudges, disturbed grit – to determine which way their quarry had gone. After nearly thirty minutes, he halted at a Y‑shaped junction.

“I can’t tell which way they went,” he said. “You three wait here. I’ll check ahead.”

He slipped down the right‑hand passage, moving with practiced stealth. At the next junction he crouched, examining the floor and walls. There. The faintest scrape. He’d guessed correctly.

He returned to the others. “This way.”

They continued for another ten minutes, a tiny island of light in a world of darkness and rushing water, when something glinted on the walkway ahead.

“Is that what I think it is?” Xalen said, pointing at a small golden band.

Brabara gasped and snatched it up. “Tiny’s wedding ring.” She turned it over in her hand. “There’s blood on it.”

“Perhaps they cut it from his finger,” Seknafret said.

“He didn’t wear it on his finger,” Brabara said. “It was on his…”

“Never mind!” Seknafret cut her off, hand raised. “I don’t want to know.”

“At least we know we’re on the right track,” Ebyn said.

A little further on, the first imperfection in the sewer’s flawless construction appeared: a crude side passage hacked out of the rock. Debris from the excavation lay scattered around the entrance, and rough‑hewn stairs descended into darkness.

Ebyn asked them to wait while he wove a spell linking their minds telepathically. Then they descended.

The tunnel opened into an ancient catacomb. Alcoves lined the walls, each holding an undecorated stone sarcophagus with a simple marble plaque. The nearest read “Goergyn,” followed by dates from some forgotten epoch.

“Should I open one of these?” Xalen asked.

“We are not grave robbers,” Seknafret hissed. “We do not disturb the dead.”

Xalen shrugged. “But what if they disturb us?”

“Then we defend ourselves,” she said. “Until then, let them rest.”

The passage widened into a large chamber with a stone statue at its centre. More sarcophagi lined the walls, and two additional exits led deeper into darkness. A plaque at the statue’s base bore the same name: “Goergyn.”

“What even is this place?” Xalen asked.

“An ancient burial complex,” Ebyn said. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

Xalen rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you. I meant, did Tiny’s captors choose this place deliberately? They dug that tunnel from the sewer. Is there something special about this Goergyn?”

Seknafret shook her head. “I’ve never heard the name.”

“Nor have I,” Ebyn said. “But we should assume it was chosen deliberately. Everything we know about Vecna suggests meticulous planning. If Tiny is here, it’s because this place offers his captors some advantage.”

“You really think Vecna is behind this?” Xalen asked.

“Him, or agents acting for him,” Ebyn said. “Who else would have reason?”

Xalen considered that. “But why take him now?”

“We just found the sixth rod piece,” Seknafret said. “We’re close to completing the artifact we need to stop him.”

“You’re saying he knows what we’re doing?” Xalen said. “He’s been watching us?”

“How else would they know the duplicate Brabara shouldn’t have her glaive?” Ebyn said. “Just as we’ve been receiving dreams of Vecna’s past, perhaps he can see us as well.”

Xalen shuddered. “That’s a horrifying thought.”

They left the chamber through the nearest exit and continued through the catacombs until they reached a set of stairs leading up to a pair of steel‑bound doors.

Xalen approached the doors and checked them thoroughly. The metal was cold – colder than it should have been – and the faintest vibration thrummed beneath his fingertips, like a heartbeat deep within the stone. Once satisfied there were no traps, he drew his tools and began working the lock.

“This lock has been serviced recently,” he murmured. “And the whole door’s been reinforced.”

“You need me to smash it down?” Brabara asked.

“No. I’ve got this.”

A moment later the lock released with a soft, almost relieved click.

The room beyond was hexagonal, the air stale and heavy. Another reinforced door waited on the opposite wall. The remaining four walls held sarcophagi in alcoves, identical to the ones before, but here the stone seemed darker, as though stained by centuries of breathless silence. A statue stood in the centre, its blank stone eyes seeming to follow them.

Xalen crossed the room and checked the second door. “Clear. I’ll unlock it.”

Beyond lay a short passage that opened into a massive chamber shaped like two hexagons fused together. Alcoves lined the walls, each holding a sarcophagus. Two statues stood at the centre of each space, their faces worn smooth by time. Between them sat an altar with an open book resting between two unlit candles.

“Let me send Hoot,” Ebyn said.

He transferred his senses to the familiar. Hoot’s wings beat softly as he circled the perimeter. The chamber felt wrong – too still, too expectant. On the far wall, opposite their entrance, Hoot spotted another door. He landed on the altar. The open page held illuminated text in an unfamiliar script. Ebyn touched the weave, and the meaning coalesced.

“It’s a psalm,” he said. “A prayer asking Saint Goergyn to bless the pious and guide them to the beyond.”

“Let’s keep moving,” Xalen said, stepping into the chamber.

The others followed.

As they passed the nearest statue, a deep rumble shook the floor. They spun just in time to see a massive stone block drop from the ceiling, sealing the passage behind them with a deafening crash. Dust billowed. The air grew colder.

Then the sarcophagi began to glow.

A sickly blue light pulsed beneath each stone lid, flickering like trapped lightning. The glow vanished in a flash – and a heartbeat later, eight lids exploded outward, shards of stone clattering across the floor.

Undead rose from their resting places.

Four humanoid zombies, their flesh grey and tight against their bones. Two massive zombies, their bodies stitched together from mismatched parts. And two skeletons whose bones burned with an unholy, flickering fire that cast long, twitching shadows across the chamber.

One humanoid zombie lurched up beside Ebyn and Seknafret. Both felt the Weave tear away from them. A sensation like being plunged into icy water. Seknafret’s staff-light winked out, and the chamber was swallowed in darkness, broken only by the flickering firelight of the skeletons.

“Anti‑magic field!” Ebyn shouted, panic sharpening his voice.

The zombie struck Seknafret twice, each blow landing with a wet, sickening thud.

Brabara charged, her hammer suddenly heavy and clumsy without its enchantment. She still managed to slam it into the zombie’s chest, bone cracking beneath the impact.

Xalen drew his sword and joined her. The blade felt dull, muted, as the anti‑magic field had stolen its voice and its hunger.

Ebyn and Seknafret staggered back until they felt the Weave return – like a gasp of air after drowning.

Seknafret turned and conjured a circular wall of fire around the altar. The flames roared to life, illuminating the chamber in violent orange. Two humanoid zombies and both giant zombies were trapped beyond the blaze.

Ebyn raised a wall of stone between them and the remaining undead, leaving only a narrow gap.

The humanoid zombies advanced. Gaps formed in the flames around them – deliberate, purposeful – and they stepped through unharmed.

The skeletons snapped ribs from their chests and hurled them like burning darts. Each impact exploded in unnatural fire that clung to flesh and stone alike.

Brabara and Xalen fought desperately, but without magic their blows felt weak, futile.

The humanoid zombies paused, allowing the giant ones to push through the flames. The last humanoid turned toward the gap in Ebyn’s wall.

“These zombies are thinking,” Ebyn said. “They’re coordinating.”

He flew upward, barely avoiding the anti‑magic aura.

One giant zombie smashed through the flames and brought its enormous fists down on Brabara, sending her staggering. The other hammered at Ebyn’s wall, cracks spiderwebbing across the stone.

The fourth humanoid zombie reached Seknafret. Its aura plunged her into darkness again. It struck her twice more, landing brutal, bone‑shaking blows.

She collapsed.

Her wall of fire vanished. The chamber fell into suffocating darkness.

Brabara screamed and fought her way toward Seknafret, dragging the zombie away from her limp body.

Xalen struggled against the giant zombie, but its wounds knit themselves back together after every strike.

“Focus on the anti‑magic ones!” Ebyn shouted. “Until they’re down, I’m useless!”

Seknafret’s body twitched.

A faint glow ignited behind her eyes.

Then her entire body erupted in golden flame.

She rose – not staggered, not gasping – but rose, as though pulled upward by invisible hands. Her eyes blazed with radiant fire. She uttered a single eldritch word, and crackling energy blasted from her arms, slamming into the skeletons and giant zombies.

One skeleton disintegrated instantly. The other reeled.

Still burning, Seknafret spoke another incantation. One giant zombie and the remaining skeleton vanished.

The others stared, stunned, as the flames slowly receded. She stood whole, healed, and terrifying.

“Kill the others,” she said. “The two I banished won’t be gone long.”

Reinvigorated, Brabara and Xalen brought down the anti‑magic zombies.

Ebyn nocked an arrow – then froze. Something was wrong. The zombies’ movements had been too coordinated. Too aware.

He scanned the chamber – and spotted a tiny floating eyeball near the ceiling, its pupil dilated wide, drinking in the scene.

A scrying sensor.

He dispelled it with a sharp gesture.

“We were being watched,” he said.

With the sensor gone, the zombies reverted to mindless aggression. They were quickly dispatched. The two banished undead reappeared moments later and were cut down.

Silence fell. Heavy. Oppressive.

“That’s not something I’d like to face again,” Ebyn said quietly.

Xalen let out a shaky breath. “No kidding.”

Brabara stared at Seknafret. “What… what was that? I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” Seknafret said softly. “Well… almost.”

“But you’re okay now?” Brabara asked. “This new life. It’s not temporary, is it?”

Seknafret gave a tired smile. “I’m fine. But it’s… taxing. I need to rest.”

“We can rest here,” Ebyn said. “But first we search. I don’t want any more surprises.”

“And I’m starting there,” Xalen said, pointing at the wall beside the sealed passage – the stone slab still warm from whatever force had dropped it.

Xalen, with help from Ebyn and Brabara, began their search of the chamber. There were no hidden doors, but Xalen did find several small holes drilled into the wall at about head height. When he pressed an eye to one, he saw a narrow room beyond. Dark, silent, and clearly designed for observation.

“They were watching us from here as well,” Xalen said quietly. “But why?”

“To coordinate the fight, maybe?” Brabara suggested. “But then why use the scrying thing too?”

“Those holes would give a limited view,” Ebyn said. “Scrying would have given them a full perspective. Both together… suggests they were very interested in us.”

Xalen glanced around the chamber, suddenly uneasy. “Do you think they’re watching us now?”

“I’ll have Hoot sweep the area while we rest,” Ebyn said. “If they try again, I’ll see it.”

They rested for an hour, binding wounds and gathering their strength. The chamber felt colder now, as though the stone itself remembered the violence. Ebyn re‑established their telepathic link before Xalen moved to the next door and picked the lock.

The door opened onto a long tunnel stretching into darkness in both directions. At the very edge of their vision, a door stood at either end.

“Which way first?” Xalen asked. He pointed right. “That one might lead to the room behind the peepholes. No idea what’s down the other way.”

“Hold a moment,” Ebyn said. “We should be closer to Tiny now. I can use a spell to point us toward him.”

“Why didn’t you do that before?” Brabara snapped.

“It has a limited range,” Ebyn said. “Up there, it would have been useless. Here… it might work.”

He took a tuft of fur from his pouch, whispering Tiny’s name as he traced intricate patterns over it. The magic flared, and Ebyn’s eyes fluttered shut.

“There,” he said, pointing straight ahead at the solid wall opposite the door they’d just opened.

“That settles it,” Xalen said, turning left.

They moved down the passage, which turned sharply right before ending at another reinforced door. A second corridor branched left halfway down, but Ebyn shook his head.

“He’s still ahead of us,” he murmured. “Through that door.”

Xalen checked it carefully – no traps – and worked the lock. Just as he reached for the handle, Brabara caught his wrist.

“Before we go in,” she said, voice low and tight, “I need you all to know… depending on what we find, I can’t trust myself. I’ll need you to help me do the smart thing.”

“We understand,” Seknafret said gently.

“And,” Ebyn muttered, “we’re rather used to it.”

Brabara nodded, jaw clenched, knuckles white around the haft of her hammer.

Xalen eased the door open and peered inside.

The room beyond was large, lit only by the guttering glow of the wall sconces. Two doors stood on the far wall, left and right. A wide stone basin jutted from the right wall, and opposite it, a stepped hexagonal platform rose from the floor. Suspended above it, hanging limply from shackled arms, was a tall, hooded figure.

Brabara sucked in a breath. “Tiny!”

“Wait!” Seknafret hissed, throwing an arm out to bar her path. “This is clearly a trap.”

Xalen slipped inside, hugging the wall as he moved toward the dais.

A bald, tattooed woman flickered into existence in the corner, as though she’d stepped out of the stone itself. She raised both hands. Dark energy crackled from her fingertips and slammed into Xalen, staggering him.

Ebyn stepped into the doorway, a lodestone in one hand. His other hand traced sharp, angular sigils in the air. Eldritch force detonated around the priestess, shredding her into drifting grey dust. Spell cast, Ebyn ducked back into the corridor.

A second bald figure appeared against the far wall between the two doors. His tattoos pulsed faintly as he gestured toward the dais. A ring of fire erupted around Tiny, flames roaring upward to encircle the platform.

Brabara screamed. “Tiny! No!”

“Brabara, wait!” Seknafret called. “I’ll get him. You deal with the priest!”

The warrior skidded to a halt only a few steps from the fire, trembling with the effort it took not to charge through it. Her scream of frustration echoed off the stone.

Xalen’s sword whispered in his mind, urging him toward the enemy. He darted forward and thrust, but the priest slipped aside with effortless grace.

Two more priests appeared, one in each corner near the doors. One hurled another bolt of crackling darkness at Xalen; the other rushed Brabara and slashed her with a curved blade.

Then a fourth figure emerged. Nothing like the others.

It skittered around the corner behind Ebyn, its movements jerky and unpredictable, like a puppet pulled by too many strings. One moment it was distant; the next it stood beside him, a desiccated hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Agony detonated through him. His bones felt as though they were being crushed from the inside. He squealed and teleported blindly into the room to escape.

The creature’s gaze tracked him, then shifted to Brabara.

A wave of creeping torment washed over her. Her skin blistered and blackened. “Gah! Fuck! What is that thing?”

Seknafret braced herself and stepped through the flames. Fire seared her skin; the smell of burning hair filled her nose. She pushed through and climbed onto the dais.

Tiny hung there, the hood burned away, his skin blistered and charred. He lifted his head with effort. “Help me,” he mouthed, no breath left for sound.

Seknafret clutched her talisman and stepped toward him to place it around his neck.

Her foot pressed down.

A click.

The ceiling collapsed.

Stone thundered down on her and Tiny. Time stretched. Seknafret felt her body break – bones shattering, organs crushed, nerves screaming. The pain was blinding, total, absolute.

“No!” Brabara screamed, sprinting toward the billowing cloud of dust beyond the flames.

Seknafret’s vision dimmed. She remembered – dimly, desperately – their connection to Vecna, the secrets they had gathered. She forced one out with her last breath.

The box at Ebyn’s side clicked. A secret burned away in a wisp of pale smoke.

Everything stopped.

The stones rose back into the ceiling. The flames recoiled. Seknafret folded to her knees as the world rewound itself to the moment before her death.

She stumbled backward out of the ring of fire, gasping. The memory of pain still clung to her. Vivid, searing, impossible to forget. She looked down at herself, half‑expecting to see crushed limbs and torn flesh.

She was whole.

But she could not go through that fire again.

And Tiny would die if he stayed within it much longer.

Seknafret reached into her pouch, grabbed a pinch of ruby dust, and flung it toward the flames. Arcane words spilled from her lips as she pictured Tiny hanging in the centre of the dais.

A cage of invisible force snapped into place around him. A shimmering barrier she couldn’t see through the roaring inferno but prayed would hold.

Across the room, the two priests closed on Xalen, blades flashing. He twisted aside from two strikes, a hastily conjured shield spell deflecting the third.

Ebyn saw Xalen surrounded and saw the skittering undead lurking at the edge of the fight. Panic tightened his chest. He severed his connection to the Weave, collapsing an anti‑magic field around himself, and sprinted toward Xalen.

He knew exactly how crippling a dead‑magic zone could be. If it gave Xalen even the slightest edge, or kept that thing from touching him, it was worth it.

Brabara froze. Her gaze flicked wildly between the dais where Tiny burned, Xalen fighting for his life, and the undead stalking the room. Her mind swam. Everything she loved was here, dying, and she couldn’t choose where to strike.

“Kill that thing!” Ebyn shouted, pointing at the undead.

The command snapped her out of her paralysis. She turned and swung her hammer in a wide arc, but the creature bent and twisted in impossible angles, its joints cracking as it dodged. Brabara stumbled, off balance.

Xalen struck one of the priests. His blade bit deep. The man buckled, lost focus and the wall of fire around the dais vanished.

Brabara’s eyes snapped to Tiny.

He hung limp. Blackened. Motionless.

The undead used her distraction to slip close. A cold, desiccated hand pressed against her chest then the creature blinked away to the far corner.

Pain exploded through her ribs. Brabara screamed.

Seknafret unleashed a barrage of eldritch blasts. The bolts slammed into the undead, and its head snapped toward her. Its gaze alone seared her flesh, blackening exposed skin.

“Kill the wizard,” it hissed in the language of the Shadowfell.

The priests obeyed instantly. They turned from Xalen and descended on Ebyn, blades carving deep. Ebyn, cut off from the Weave, could do nothing but dodge and pray.

Two priests chased him, leaving Xalen with the one he’d wounded.

Brabara charged the undead again. This time her hammer connected. Bones cracked, dust puffed from its torso, but the creature didn’t flinch. It didn’t even look at her. It stared only at Seknafret, feeding on her life. Its wounds closed as hers deepened.

Xalen slashed his opponent’s throat. Blood sprayed across the wall. The priest staggered, touched a tattoo on his thigh and collapsed.

The tattoo flared green and vanished.

The priest twitched on the floor… then rose again, eyes glowing with that same green light.

“What the…” Xalen stumbled back.

Seknafret sagged against the wall. Her veins stood out in black webs beneath her skin. Her fingers looked brittle, ready to crumble. She had fought undead before but never one that hurt like this. She forced her hands to move, firing more blasts at the creature draining her life.

They struck. They did nothing.

The undead ducked and weaved, its movements jerky and nauseating. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Perfectly still. Head cocked. Listening to something only it could hear.

Brabara didn’t hesitate. She swung with everything she had, aiming to smash it into paste.

But before the blow landed, its eyes refocused and it blinked to the opposite corner.

“We have what we came for,” it hissed. “Time to end this.”

Its jaw unhinged unnaturally as it spoke arcane words.

The world froze.

Ebyn watched in horror as Brabara, Seknafret, Xalen – even the newly risen priest – locked in place like statues. Only the undead moved freely. Only it, and the two priests trapped inside Ebyn’s anti‑magic field.

The creature drifted behind Brabara and pressed a single finger to the back of her neck. Then it flashed to Xalen and did the same.

Ebyn moved, and the anti‑magic field moved with him. The two priests froze as they left its radius, leaving Ebyn the only one able to act.

He stepped between Brabara and Xalen just as the undead prepared to move again. The anti‑magic field washed over them, releasing them from the time stop.

Brabara and Xalen staggered as the pain from the creature’s touch hit them, but they recovered fast. Brabara’s hammer folded the undead in half. Xalen’s rapier stabbed twice, carving deep wounds.

The creature screamed, its first sound since entering the fight. Its eyes locked on Ebyn, but whatever power they held fizzled uselessly against the anti‑magic field. Rage twisted its face.

It flashed forward, raking its claws across Ebyn’s chest. Ebyn doubled over, but the field held and the undead screamed again, frustrated.

It kept moving, slipping out of the dead‑magic zone. As it passed Seknafret, it brushed her shoulder.

She collapsed instantly.

The undead turned back, surveying the frozen tableau with burning hatred. It whispered a final incantation and vanished.

Time snapped back.

Seknafret fell.

Xalen crawled to Seknafret and poured a healing potion between her lips. She coughed, sputtered, and dragged in a ragged breath. The toll of the day’s battles showed in every trembling movement, but she forced herself upright and staggered toward the force cage.

The three remaining priests renewed their assault, but even with Brabara gravely injured they were no match for her fury. She vented all the terror and rage of Tiny’s abduction into each blow, smashing tattooed bodies with relentless force.

Seknafret teleported into the cage where Tiny hung and pressed a hand to his chest. She shared what little healing she had left with the badly burned goliath, then slipped her talisman around his neck.

“I need you to focus,” she whispered. “The only way out is to really want it. You understand?”

Tiny managed a weak nod.

“Good. Once I leave the cage, use the talisman to teleport to me. Picture yourself beside me. The magic will do the rest. The cage will fight you, so you may need to try more than once.”

Tiny swallowed, tried to speak, failed and nodded again.

Seknafret closed her eyes and willed herself out of the cage. The magic swelled, the barrier resisted, but she pushed through and reappeared in the room.

Brabara crushed one of the two remaining priests beneath her hammer. Xalen, with Ebyn’s help, dispatched the risen one. Only a single tattooed priest remained, bleeding heavily in the corner.

The priest lunged. “Osybus, grant me my boon!” she cried, slashing at Xalen. The blow should have struck true, but Brabara touched a rune, and the priest stumbled, her blade swinging wide.

Brabara’s hammer slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. As she fell, she touched the tattoo on her chest. It flared green. Her body ignited in emerald fire, flesh burning away to reveal a flaming skeleton.

Ebyn’s magic flared. The skeleton disintegrated into dust.

Silence fell, broken only by ragged breathing.

“Is Tiny alive?” Brabara asked, turning toward the dais.

“Yes,” Seknafret said. “He just needs to will himself to me.”

Brabara approached the cage, placing her hands on the invisible barrier, eyes fixed on Tiny’s limp form. “I believe in you, darling,” she whispered. “You just have to believe in yourself.”

Tiny lifted his head. His eyes met hers. A faint smile touched his blistered lips. A moment later, radiant light enveloped him and he vanished, reappearing beside Seknafret.

He staggered. Seknafret struggled to keep his massive frame upright.

Tiny was free.

Brabara ran to him, wrapping her arms around his injured body, letting him lean his weight against her and relieving Seknafret of the burden. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered encouragement and love into his ear.

“Gather around,” Ebyn said. “I’ll teleport us out of here.”

“You don’t want to check what’s behind those two doors?” Xalen asked.

“What for?” Ebyn replied. “The longer we stay, the more danger we invite.”

“There could be information,” Xalen said. “Something to explain how Tiny was taken or who exactly did it.”

“I believe we have a clear picture of who was behind this plot,” Ebyn said.

Xalen shrugged. “Do we, really? We have a theory, but it’s based on what they let us see. Nothing definitive.”

Ebyn hesitated. “You make a good point. Perhaps we should investigate before we leave.”

“I am spent,” Seknafret said. “I’ll be no good to anyone without rest.”

“And Tiny’s in a lot of pain,” Brabara added. “We need to treat his wounds.”

Tiny’s lips moved. Only Brabara heard.

“You’re sure?” she asked softly.

He nodded.

Brabara sighed. “Tiny thinks we should do the search.”

“I’m not too injured,” Xalen said. “You all stay here and rest. I’ll look around a bit. I won’t go far, and I’ll update you through the telepathic bond. If I stir up trouble, I’ll run back and Ebyn can get us out.”

Ebyn, Seknafret, and Tiny remained in the room while Brabara and Xalen explored.

Ebyn pulled a piece of parchment from his pack and began writing. Seknafret watched him for a while, noting the steady flow of ink across the page.

“What are you writing?” she asked during one of his rare pauses.

“A letter,” Ebyn said. “To the Lady of Pain. Informing her that agents of Vecna are active in the city.”

“And you think she’ll care?”

Ebyn shrugged. “Perhaps. The dreams suggest she holds no love for Vecna. It costs us nothing to make her aware. She’ll act… or she won’t.”

“Fair enough,” Seknafret said, and let him continue.

Xalen and Brabara searched the nearby rooms and passages. They found the cell where Tiny must have been kept before being strung up over the dais, and a cramped sleeping chamber with five cots. A search of the room turned up a small chest containing roughly a hundred of the ancient Vecnan silver coins and nothing else of value.

“Five beds,” Brabara said, jaw tightening. “We killed four of the tattooed priests in that last fight, and I doubt that undead thing slept in here. That means at least one more of those bastards is still down here.”

Xalen nodded grimly. “What do you want to do about that?”

Brabara’s grip tightened around her weapon. “I want to crush his head beneath my bootheels. But we can’t be sure he’s alone. None of us can survive another fight like the ones we’ve had today. We go back, and we get out.”

“I agree,” Xalen said. “We’ve been going hard for too long.”

They returned to the others. Ebyn gathered them close and murmured a quick sequence of arcane words. The world twisted and they appeared in a small, nondescript room somewhere in Sigil.

“Where are we?” Xalen asked, scanning the cramped space.

“This was the room I rented for my simulacrum,” Ebyn said. “I figured it was the safest place to escape to. No one should know about it.”

“Good thinking,” Brabara said as she gently lowered Tiny onto the single cot. His massive frame dwarfed the little bed, legs hanging comically over the edge. “We should be safe enough here to rest and figure out our next steps.”

The group settled onto the floor, claiming whatever space they could. The quarters were cramped, but for the first time in days, no immediate threat loomed over them. No ambush, no trap, no screaming undead horror.

Just exhaustion.

Just breathing.

Just the fragile relief of having Tiny back.

The less immediate threat, however, lingered at the edges of their thoughts.

And sleep, when it finally came, carried them straight back into nightmare

 

Vecna stood at the edge of a jagged cliff, overlooking a dust-choked valley where his undead legions clashed with the Shadar-Kai loyal to the Raven Queen. The air trembled with the clang of steel and the hollow groans of the dead. He had made swift gains early in his campaign to seize her dominion and devour her power, but now his advance had stalled. The forces of the goddess of death and memory proved maddeningly resilient.

For the first time in centuries, Vecna felt the sting of absence. Acererak’s cold brilliance. Kas’s ruthless precision. Together, they had once carved empires for him. Without them, this war dragged like a dull blade through stone.

Below, the battle churned in a stagnant tide of slaughter. Neither side advanced. Neither side yielded. Vecna had watched this same stalemate unfold a dozen times before, and he was turning away in disgust when something caught his eye.

A knot of undead, his undead, bearing the standard of Osybus, one of his necromancers, had broken formation. At first it looked like a minor skirmish, a misunderstanding far from the front line. Then the rebels struck again. And again. And the infection spread.

Vecna’s single eye widened as the small disturbance blossomed into open revolt. His own legions tore into each other, ranks collapsing like rotted timber. The Shadar-Kai saw the breach and surged forward, radiant blades cutting through the chaos. The Raven Queen’s warriors linked with the traitorous forces of Osybus, and together they swept through Vecna’s army like cleansing fire. What had begun as another day of grinding stalemate became, in moments, a catastrophic rout.

Vecna’s jaw clenched. His fingers dug into the stone of the cliffside. He watched his dream of conquest, decades in the making, collapse in the valley below. He cursed, the word echoing across the battlefield like a crack in the world.

 

The group awoke, the lingering weight of the nightmare softened only by the fact that they had witnessed yet another of Vecna’s defeats. Only Xalen seemed truly shaken; he sat up looking as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“That was a rough one,” he muttered, splashing water on his face.

“Was it?” Brabara stretched, joints cracking. “I like seeing el‑fucko’s plans fall apart. Gives me hope we can do the same.”

“It does make me wonder why he’s sharing these failures with us,” Ebyn said thoughtfully, while scrawling in his journal.

“Perhaps he doesn’t know he is,” Seknafret offered. “Or perhaps it’s leading to something more sinister. Either way, speculation won’t save the multiverse. Dreams or no dreams, we still have work to do.”

Ebyn nodded. “Quite right. Well said.”

Seknafret crossed to Tiny. “How are you feeling?”

“Good… I guess,” Tiny said, wincing as he pushed himself upright. “Still sore. Burns sting.”

Seknafret placed a hand on his chest and closed her eyes. A soft glow pulsed beneath her palm, and several of Tiny’s wounds knit closed. “That should take care of the worst of it. Time can handle the rest.”

Tiny exhaled slowly. “Thank you. Now I’m mostly hungry.”

Seknafret smiled and turned to the others. “So, what now?”

“I need to find a messenger to post this letter,” Ebyn said, holding up the parchment. “Then we return to the sanctum and check on Mordenkainen’s progress.”

Seknafret nodded but froze as a voice sounded in her mind.

“Sorry to disturb. Are you in Sigil? Mordenkainen is not responding, and I need the portal configured to Aebrynis so Malaina and I can return.”

Alustriel’s voice was tense.

“We are in Sigil,” Seknafret replied silently. “But not in the sanctum. We’ll return immediately and see what’s wrong. Contact me again in an hour.”

“Who were you talking to?” Xalen asked, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Alustriel,” Seknafret said. “She can’t reach Mordenkainen. She needs us to configure the portal so she and Malaina can come back.”

The colour drained from Ebyn’s face. “The rod pieces! We must return to the sanctum immediately.”