Session 42

Xalen went down first.

Using his boots of flying, he slipped into the deep shaft and descended through swirling dust and eerie green flashes. Whispers filled his mind as he dropped lower. Tantalizing fragments of meaning carried by a thousand overlapping voices. A crackle of green energy danced across his skin, and for a heartbeat he felt he might understand what the multitudes were saying.

He paused midway, hovering in the darkness, trying to piece together the words. The allure tugged at him, then he shook his head sharply and forced himself onward.

The dust and whispers thinned as he neared the bottom. A short tunnel branched off to the side. Xalen landed at its entrance, weapons ready, and waited.

Nothing moved.

He slipped inside and found himself before an ornate archway sealed with cut stone blocks. A glowing sapphire sat at its centre, with Vecna’s symbol carved beneath it. Xalen had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the gem.

“What’s down there?” Ebyn’s voice echoed in his mind.

“The pit’s maybe five or six hundred feet deep,” Xalen replied, eyes fixed on the sapphire. “Nothing dangerous on the way down, but you might want to block your ears. The voices are… distracting.”

“Voices?” Seknafret asked.

“Yes. Like a crowd all talking at once. I couldn’t make sense of it, but I wanted to stay and listen. Just keep moving and ignore it.”

“Understood,” Ebyn said. “Anything else?”

“There’s a Vecna symbol under a sealed arch. Looks important. I’ll poke around while you come down.”

“Be careful, Xalen,” Seknafret said.

At the top of the pit, the others prepared to descend.

“I can levitate with the staff,” Ebyn said. “Seknafret, you can levitate yourself, yes?”

Seknafret shook her head. “Not anymore. I renegotiated my pact, gained some things, lost others.”

“I see,” Ebyn said. “Do you have another way down?”

“I have a potion of flying.” She pulled a vial from her pouch. “But I was saving it for you, Brabara.”

Brabara blanched. “No flying.” She swallowed hard. “You use it. I’ll teleport down with your talisman.”

“You’re sure?” Seknafret asked. “Flight could be useful once we’re down there.”

Brabara clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a burp. “I said no flying.”

Seknafret rolled her eyes, uncorked the potion, and drank it. Then she stepped over the edge and followed Xalen down.

Ebyn gripped his staff. A soft glow flared from its tip as he stepped into the void and drifted downward. “I’ll let you know when we reach the bottom,” he called up.

Brabara managed a weak thumbs‑up.

By the time Seknafret contacted her, Brabara had regained her composure. She used the amulet’s power and teleported directly to the others, appearing beside the glowing sapphire at the base of the pit.

“Find anything?” Ebyn asked as Xalen stepped back.

“No traps,” Xalen said. “But not much else. My guess is you touch the sapphire and the door opens.”

“You don’t sound confident,” Brabara said.

“I’m not.”

Brabara stepped forward. “The Rod says Vecna is through there. Maybe I use it to dispel this like the others.”

“Wait,” Ebyn said sharply. “The Vecna symbols in the illusions above were purple. This one is blue. I think this is something different. Give me a moment.”

They waited while Ebyn wove his spell. Arcane words flowed from his lips, his hands tracing intricate patterns. After a minute he touched his eyes.

The world flared impossibly bright, then resolved into layers of dense magic. Ebyn focused on the sapphire.

“Teleportation magic,” he said. “Touch it, and it will transport you somewhere.”

“That’s reassuring,” Brabara muttered. “Somewhere like a pit of lava?”

Ebyn shrugged. “Possibly. Or maybe just the other side of the wall.”

Brabara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe we break it down instead.”

“I wouldn’t,” Xalen said. “I’ve seen shoddy craftsmanship before, this isn’t it. That wall is solid.”

“So, we risk the teleport?” Seknafret asked.

“What choice do we have?” Ebyn said, stepping forward.

He touched the sapphire and vanished with a faint pop.

“Ebyn?” Brabara called through the bond. “Are you okay?”

Silence.

“I can’t feel him anymore,” Seknafret said.

Brabara’s eyes widened. She lunged forward and slapped her hand against the gem and vanished.

Xalen glanced at Seknafret, shrugged, and touched the stone. She followed a heartbeat later.

---

Ebyn stood before a towering bookcase at the centre of a tall stone chamber.

More bookcases, evenly spaced, each packed with tomes he had never seen even in Candlekeep filled the room. Candlekeep’s vast collection suddenly felt quaint compared to the ocean of knowledge surrounding him now.

A servant entered behind him carrying a tray of food and drink. The man cleared his throat politely, but Ebyn didn’t turn. His eyes remained fixed on the shelves.

“Excuse me,” the man said. “Master Ebyn?”

Reluctantly, Ebyn tore his gaze away. The servant was human, dressed in simple but well‑made clothes, a proper butler’s uniform, clean and practical.

“I understand you may be staying with us for some time,” the man said. “I’ve prepared refreshments for you to enjoy while we ready your room.”

“Where am I?” Ebyn asked, struggling to recall how he’d arrived.

“The master’s tower,” the butler replied. “You arrived only minutes ago.”

“I did?” Ebyn scratched his chin. “From where?”

The servant blinked, uncertain. “I’m afraid I cannot help you with that, Master Ebyn.”

Ebyn looked up. Narrow windows lined the ceiling. Three lanterns hung from heavy beams, each glowing with a bright purple light.

He gripped his staff and floated upward to peer outside.

A sprawling cosmopolitan city stretched out below him. The sun hung high, midday.

He drifted back down. “What city is this?”

“Greyhawk, sir.”

“And the year?”

“Common Year, six hundred and seventeen.”

Ebyn considered that. “Quite a few years since my last visit. A pleasant few days among the islands.”

“I see, sir. I trust you’ll be staying longer this time.”

“I doubt it.” He sighed. “Take me to the master.”

The servant hesitated. “My master is busy, sir. He bids you take ease in the library until he is free.”

Ebyn’s eyes narrowed. “Take me to him. Now.”

The man swallowed. “I… cannot, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I am not permitted in the master’s private chambers.”

“Then you are useless to me,” Ebyn said flatly.

He uttered an arcane word and pointed a short crystal rod at the man.

A bolt of lightning leapt from his fingertip. The servant collapsed in a smoking heap of charred flesh and bone.

Ebyn paused, waiting for alarms, guards, retaliation, anything.

Nothing happened.

“Interesting,” he murmured, glancing at the corpse for only a moment before turning back to the endless shelves of books.

---

Brabara stood in a clearing.

An axe rested in her hands, a half‑split log on the chopping block before her. Her breath came heavy and warm in the cool forest air. A well‑made log cabin stood at the far end of the clearing, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.

A narrow dirt path led from the porch into the trees, overgrown with weeds, little used.

A child, a boy of about five, played in the bushes nearby. Her child.

She knew it with a certainty that struck her like a hammer blow.

The cabin door opened. Tiny stepped out onto the porch.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he called. “You two need to come in and wash up before we eat.”

A warmth washed over her. Happiness, contentment, love, blended in a way she had never believed possible.

She split the final log, tossed the pieces onto the pile, and drove the axe into the block. Then she called to the boy and strode toward the cabin, holding the door open as he scampered inside.

The interior was as beautiful as the outside, small, comfortable, homely. Perfect for the two of them and their children.

Children?

Brabara’s eyes darted around the room. Tiny was in the kitchen, fussing over the last touches of dinner. The boy disappeared into a bedroom at the back.

And there, by the fire, sat another child. A girl, the same age as the boy, playing with a familiar doll in a yellow dress.

The girl looked up and waved, smiling wide. “You’re not smelly again, are you, mummy?” she teased, wrinkling her nose.

Tears spilled down Brabara’s cheeks.

Two children.

A boy and a girl. Twins. Alive.

“What’s wrong, Brabs?” Tiny asked from the kitchen, holding two heaped plates.

Brabara stood silent for a long moment, overwhelmed. Then she smiled, broad, trembling, radiant.

“Nothing,” she whispered, barely suppressing a sob. “Nothing is wrong.” Her voice steadied, warm and sure. “In fact, everything is perfect.”

---

Xalen sat with his parents at the dinner table. A wide, polished oak slab that dominated the centre of the well‑appointed dining room.

He scratched the side of his head. “How did I get here?” he muttered, not realizing he’d spoken aloud.

“What’s that, dear?” his mother asked.

He blinked, shook his head. “Nothing. Just… got confused for a minute.”

His mother laughed, that same joyful, musical sound that had always made him happy as a child.

Except…

This isn’t right, he thought. I never grew up here. Did I?

He looked around. He’d been in this house before, but last time it had been a blasted ruin. Not this warm, tidy home filled with light and family. He remembered his father teaching him to build a fire in that hearth. His mother showing him how to hold his cutlery at this very table.

But he also remembered something else.

A life on the streets.

Fighting for scraps with the other urchins in Neverwinter. Slippery Pete standing sponsor as he joined the guild. His friends, the ones who’d saved the city again and again.

Those memories were real.

But right now, they felt like someone else’s life.

Servants moved in and out with trays of food and decanters of wine, water, and fruit juice.

“What’s all this for?” Xalen asked, interrupting his father mid‑joke.

“Marian is coming with the baby,” his mother said brightly. “It’ll be so good to see them again.”

“Your sister will be staying with us for a few weeks while her husband is away,” his father added.

His mother reached out and touched his arm. “It will be so nice having us all under one roof again. It’s been far too long.”

Xalen rose and walked to the window just as a carriage pulled up outside. He made his way through the foyer to greet the arrivals.

Marian climbed out first, followed by a nursemaid who leaned back into the carriage to retrieve the child. Marian spotted Xalen at the top of the stairs and ran to him, wrapping him in a warm hug.

“Hello, brother,” she said. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course,” Xalen replied. “Mother and father too.”

The nursemaid lifted a tiny bundle from the carriage while other servants unloaded luggage from the rear and roof.

Marian’s eyes sparkled. “Come,” she said, tugging Xalen by the arm. “I want you to meet your niece.”

For his entire life, this was all he had ever wanted. A family, a home, a place where he belonged. And as he looked down into that tiny, perfect face…

…his heart melted.

---

Seknafret stood upon a dais, arms raised toward the light of the morning sun.

Her temple still rang with the fading echoes of the dawn chant, and she basked in the warmth of the sunlight. “It is a blessed day,” she said, her voice clear, commanding, practiced. Words she had spoken countless times, spoken with confidence now that the veil had been restored.

Restored? When?

A memory surfaced. Her working with the priests, performing the ritual of restoration, the spell she had spent years researching and finally perfecting. The doubt evaporated as quickly as it had come.

She lowered her arms and opened her eyes.

Before her, a multitude lay prostrate on the ground. Her order. Her people. Safe because of what she had done.

“You may rise,” she said.

As one, they stood.

“Go now, my children, with my blessing and the blessings of our lord god.”

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd as they dispersed, the contented chatter of a people secure in their purpose, confident in their place, certain they were needed.

Seknafret’s heart swelled with pride. Elevated by her lineage, yes, but still one among them. Part of this community. There was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice to keep them safe, and she knew they would do the same for her.

This was why she had been born. This was what she had fought so hard to protect.

This was home.

…Wasn’t it?

 

---

“Did my manservant offend you in some way?” a smooth voice asked.

Ebyn finished the sentence he was reading, closed the book, and slid it back into place. His fingers lingered on the spine before he finally turned.

A tall human man stood in the doorway. Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, a welcoming smile on a face that was almost handsome.

Vecna.

“This is an impressive collection,” Ebyn said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Vecna smiled. “I can confidently state it is the single most extensive archive of arcane knowledge in the new multiverse.” He stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the blackened corpse just inside the threshold. “And it can be yours, if you want it.”

“New multiverse?” Ebyn asked. “What is this? Why am I here? Where are my friends?”

Vecna chuckled. “So many questions. I always admired your curiosity. I’m glad to find it undiminished. Allow me to answer.”

Ebyn’s jaw tightened. “Go on.”

“As for what this is…” Vecna spread his arms to encompass the room. “It is a possibility. A future I can make for you. One where you may study and learn without fear or interruption. As for why. I am impressed by you, Ebyn. Minds like yours are rare. Focused. Driven. I would take you as my student. I would share my knowledge, grant you skills and power beyond anything any mage has ever known.”

Ebyn swallowed. “And my friends?”

Vecna’s gaze drifted upward to the three purple lanterns hanging from the ceiling. “They are making their own choices. I have no desire to harm any of you. Should you, or any of them, choose to bind your fate to mine, I can give each of you the life you’ve always sought.”

Ebyn’s fingers twitched, ready to pluck the Weave, to blast this smug, arrogant monster into ash.

Vecna raised a hand. “There is no need for that here, Ebyn.”

Ebyn hesitated. What could he do to the architect of this reality? Would his magic even work? He glared for a moment, then turned back to the shelves.

Vecna was right. This was everything he had ever wanted.

The realization that his enemy understood him so deeply, saw him so clearly, left him feeling exposed. Violated.

And then he knew what he had to do.

Ebyn drew a slow breath and faced Vecna again.

“You offer me every book, every secret, every spell. A library beyond compare. A vault of knowledge torn from countless worlds, countless wizards, perhaps even the minds of former gods. You offer me what I’ve hungered for all my life. You knew I would falter here. You knew how deeply I longed to understand the Weave, to hold history in my hands.”

Vecna smiled. “This can all be real, Ebyn. Join me.”

Ebyn held his gaze. “I am tempted. Of course I am, you made sure of that. But a gift wrapped in chains is still a prison. What you offer is a collar. A leash. I reject it. And I reject you. I came with my friends, and with the blessing of the Raven Queen, to end you.” His voice hardened. “And that is exactly what I intend to do.”

Vecna sighed. “I am disappointed in you, Ebyn. I truly believed you were smarter than that.” He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. “But no matter. I’ll simply make do with one of you.”

Ebyn followed his gaze. One of the three purple lanterns now burned green.

“Begone,” Vecna said.

And the library dissolved into nothing.

---

Brabara tossed her napkin onto the table and leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

“That was delicious, Tiny. I’d forgotten how good a cook you are.”

Her husband smiled and began clearing the plates. “Glad you enjoyed it, Brabs. But you’re back to trail rations for a few days starting tomorrow.”

“Why is that?” she asked, stacking the children’s dishes onto his outstretched arms.

“Market run. Gotta stock up before the passes close for winter, and it’s your turn this month.”

Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a knock at the door.

She and Tiny exchanged a look. He gave a small shrug. “Can you get that? My hands are full.”

Brabara rose and crossed the room. She pulled the door open.

A man stood on the porch, human, long blond hair, blue eyes.

Her breath caught.

Vecna.

“What are you doing here?” she spat.

Vecna smiled pleasantly. “Just checking in. Wanted to be sure you, Tiny, and the little ones had settled in.”

Brabara narrowed her eyes. “We’re doing great. Is that all?”

“I need to ask you something,” he said. “May I come in?”

She hesitated, then stepped aside.

Vecna entered, offering a polite wave to Tiny and the children as he crossed to the fireplace. “You have a lovely home, Brabara. And a lovely family. You are truly blessed.”

“I feel blessed,” she said, closing the door. As she followed him, she noticed three candles on the mantle, each burning with a purple flame. She didn’t remember seeing them before. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

Vecna shook his head. “Thank you, no. This won’t take long.”

Brabara scratched at her neck. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you happy here?” Vecna asked, fixing her with those clear blue eyes.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason,” he said lightly. “None at all. But I must explain that what you’re experiencing is not real. Not yet.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“This is a taste,” Vecna said. “A sample of the life I can give you if you tie your fate to mine. I know why you’ve come, what you and your companions hope to accomplish, but there’s no need for conflict between us. I can give you this life. This future. You, Tiny, the twins.”

Brabara looked around the room – the warm firelight, the toys on the floor, the sound of her children laughing.

“This isn’t real?” she whispered, though part of her already knew the answer.

“No,” Vecna said gently. “But it can be.”

One of the three candles on the mantle flickered, and its flame turned green.

Vecna smiled broadly.

“I need you to choose, Brabara. One of your companions has already made theirs. And I have no need of all of you.”

---

Xalen stayed on the steps as his sister and her child entered the house, smiling at the sight of them. A faint jangling sound snapped him from his reverie. He turned to see a second carriage rolling up the driveway, pulling in behind the one Marian had arrived in.

The driver set the brake, climbed down, unfolded the step, and opened the door for the lone passenger.

A tall human stepped out, long blond hair framing a handsome face, clear blue eyes that seemed to look straight through Xalen.

Vecna.

The name hit Xalen like a physical blow, splitting his focus and reminding him, brutally, of the life he’d lived, not the one he was living now.

“Hello, Xalen,” Vecna said. “I was hoping we might have the chance to speak.”

“What have you done to me?” Xalen spat.

Vecna regarded him with an expression that was equal parts concern and disappointment. “It’s a shame, really. Yours was always going to be the most difficult to reconcile. Come, let’s find somewhere private to talk.”

Xalen nodded stiffly and led him to the sitting room, where a low fire crackled in the hearth. A candelabra stood on a circular table, three long white candles burning with purple flame.

Xalen sat by the fire and gestured to the other chair. Vecna took it without hesitation.

“The most difficult to reconcile?” Xalen asked.

“All this,” Vecna said, waving a hand around the room. “It is too different from what you know to be true. I can fix that, of course, but it will require you to let go of certain… memories.”

“Why do this at all?” Xalen demanded.

“For you, of course,” Vecna said, as though the answer were obvious. “This is the life you should have had. The life you were denied. The life you dreamed of. It can all be real, if you let it.”

Xalen closed his eyes. He could hear his parents talking with Marian in the dining room. His father’s deep voice cooing at the baby. His mother offering advice. Laughter. Warmth. Belonging.

It felt like home.

But could he really live here? Would it be enough? Would it be exciting enough?

“You know we planned to kill you,” Xalen said, not entirely sure why the words came out.

Vecna nodded. “I know. But it’s not too late for that to change. My ritual is nearly complete. When I remake the multiverse, I can carve out a place for you – a life you deserve. All you need do is bind your fate to mine.”

Xalen considered that. “And if I do?”

“Then we let what happens happen,” Vecna said.

One of the purple flames flickered and turned green.

Vecna leaned forward and took Xalen’s hand in his.

“Follow their lead, Xalen. Join me, as they did.”

---

Seknafret remained standing on the dais, arms outstretched, while attendants removed her ceremonial vestments.

She gazed across the temple. Three massive braziers hung from the ceiling on thick bronze chains; each filled with purple flame that cast an unusual tint across the painted sky of the domed ceiling.

“Were they always purple?” she asked one of the attendants as the woman folded the gold‑laced stole with reverent care.

The attendant glanced up. “I think so, my lady.”

A man stood at the base of the dais, head bowed, long blond hair veiling his face. He waited silently until the attendants withdrew.

“May we speak, mistress?” he asked, still keeping his eyes lowered.

“Of course,” Seknafret said, descending the steps to stand before him. “I am always pleased to speak with one of my people.”

The man lifted his head.

Pale skin. Blue eyes – a rare colour among her people. And a name she suddenly remembered.

Vecna.

Seknafret gasped. “How are you here? Didn’t we defeat you?”

She reached for the memory – the descent into the pit, the battle, the ritual – but found only fog. Yet she remembered restoring the Veil. Saving her order. Returning triumphant.

How could both be true?

“It is difficult to remember events that have not happened yet,” Vecna said. “That is why I am here. To ask that you bind your fate to mine in what is about to occur. In return, I will reward you with everything you see here.”

“And what exactly is that?” Seknafret spat. “A fiction? A lie?”

“No, no, Seknafret,” Vecna said gently. “It is so much more than that. Everything here can be real. Here you return triumphant, saving this place from the collapse of the Veil. Here your order thrives. Here you have succeeded.”

Seknafret’s eyes narrowed. “Triumphed? Truly? This place may wear the appearance of truth, but it is not there. Here, the Veil is nothing but a prop in a pantomime of the reality it replaced. I do not want this. I want nothing from you.”

She stepped back and thrust out her hand, unleashing a volley of eldritch blasts.

The bolts passed through Vecna without leaving a mark. His lips curved downward in disappointment.

“This saddens me,” he said. “You, of all the others, understand the sacrifices a leader must make for her people. You know that sometimes the path to victory requires compromise. Yet here you cling to righteous indignation and risk the very people you claim to protect.”

Seknafret turned her back on him, closing her eyes.

“Begone, worm,” she said. “You have nothing I want.”

---

They appeared in an underground chamber. Ebyn first, then Brabara, then Xalen, and finally Seknafret. Behind them, an enclosed archway was built into a thick stone wall, another glowing sapphire set at its centre, Vecna’s symbol etched beneath it like a brand.

“What the fuck?” Brabara snapped, eyes darting wildly. “Where did they go?”

“Where did who go?” Xalen asked.

“Tiny. And the twins.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

A cold silence fell.

“Did any of you take Vecna’s deal?” Ebyn asked, gaze flicking sharply from face to face.

“Of course not,” they all said at once.

“Did you?” Seknafret shot back.

“Absolutely not,” Ebyn said. “But someone did.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Seknafret said, though her jaw tightened.

“He’s right,” Xalen muttered. “Vecna said so before I told him to go fuck himself.”

Seknafret rounded on him. “And you believed him? Really? He’s Vecna. He lies for sport. He’s trying to divide us.”

Xalen hesitated, just long enough for doubt to creep in. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

Brabara forced herself to look away from the empty space where her children had been. “There’s another glowing gem up ahead,” she said, voice low. “Same as before.”

Xalen took a step toward it.

“Stay where you are,” Ebyn said, voice suddenly sharp. “I need to cast auguries. We have to be sure none of us has been compromised.”

Xalen spun back around. “Seriously? This is stupid. Nobody took the deal.”

Ebyn folded his arms. “Then you have nothing to fear by waiting.”

Xalen’s eyes narrowed. “Unless it was you. How exactly will your divinations prove your own innocence?”

Brabara turned slowly toward Ebyn. “He’s got a point. You’re asking us to trust you while refusing to trust us.”

Ebyn opened his mouth, then closed it again. He ran through his spells in his mind. Divination couldn’t reveal the past. Contact Other Plane relied on knowledge it couldn’t have. Commune would be useless. His magic couldn’t save him from this.

He needed to be the man who’d given the speech before they left the sanctum, the one who’d told them they were stronger together.

He exhaled.

“You’re right,” Ebyn said quietly. “We have to trust each other. We cannot let the god of secrets and lies turn us against ourselves.”

Brabara strapped her new shield to her arm and lifted the Rod of Law. Her voice was steady now, like iron forged from grief.

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m done with illusions. Let’s take this fucker down.”

They moved along the passage in a tight formation. Translucent purple crystals jutted from the walls, bathing everything in a diffused amethyst glow. The light fractured across the facets, throwing shifting shadows that made the corridor feel alive. Only the bright blue and red gems set into sealed archways broke the purple monotony, like cold, watchful eyes embedded in stone.

A brighter radiance pulsed ahead.

The passage opened into a vast domed chamber at the cavern’s heart. The entire dome was encased in thick purple crystal, except for four archways marked by glowing sapphires. Light bled through the crystal walls in slow, rhythmic pulses, as though the chamber itself were breathing.

Peering through one of the archways, Xalen spotted a humanoid figure hovering beside a writhing sphere of light. The figure’s head was thrown back, arms lowered, palms open toward the glowing mass.

“He’s here,” Xalen whispered. “Looks like he’s alone.”

“What is that glowing thing?” Brabara asked, her grip tightening on the Rod.

“The ritual,” Ebyn said. “We should avoid getting too close to it if we can.”

Brabara scanned the four archways. “Four doors. Four of us. Maybe we’re supposed to touch them at the same time to get inside.”

Xalen shook his head. “I don’t think so. Look. There are other sapphires in the side chambers, and rubies on the walls too.”

Brabara frowned. “Yeah, and?”

“My guess? Touch a gem, and it sends you to its counterpart. Blue to blue. Red to red. All the gems inside the central chamber are red so we’ll need a red one to get in.”

Brabara looked around. “Okay… so how do we figure out which one leads where?”

Xalen stepped up to the nearest sapphire. “Like this.”

He touched the stone, and vanished.

An instant later he reappeared in a darkened chamber off to the left. A sapphire glowed behind him. He touched it again and blinked back into existence beside the others.

“See?” he said. “Blue gems take you to blue gems. So, the red ones will take us to the red gems inside the ritual chamber.”

Brabara nodded and pulled the group close. “This is it. Drink whatever you need to. Once we go in, there’s no turning back.”

Xalen uncorked a vial of necrotic resistance potion and swallowed it in one gulp. He hefted his rapier, waiting for Brabara’s signal.

The sword whispered in his mind. Hungry, eager, praising itself for choosing him, urging him toward blood and glory.

Brabara nodded.

Xalen touched the nearest red gem, and vanished.

He reappeared inside the central chamber, alone with Vecna and the ritual. The light was blinding. He had to shield his eyes from the coruscating sphere of energy pulsing before the arch‑lich.

Xalen crouched beside the gem, waiting for Vecna to react.

Nothing.

Vecna remained frozen in concentration, arms lowered, palms open toward the writhing sphere.

Xalen darted forward and drove his rapier into Vecna’s desiccated flesh.

Vecna’s head snapped around. His single glowing eye narrowed and before Xalen could strike again, the lich vanished.

Pain coursed through Xalen’s entire body in the wake of Vecna’s disappearance. He staggered, barely able to keep upright, and spun searching.

“He’s teleported,” he said, pointing to a chamber behind him.

“Which gem is that?” Brabara asked, frantic.

“No idea. Just pick one!”

Brabara slapped her hand onto an untested blue gem and disappeared, only to reappear in a dark chamber on the far side of the dome.

Not it.

She teleported back, sprinted to another gem, tried again.

Vecna watched her scramble uselessly between the purple crystals, then reappeared beside Xalen in the central chamber. His arrival sent a second stab of necrotic pain through Xalen’s body – blunted only by the potion he’d drunk.

Vecna’s wound sealed instantly. He slashed with a wicked dagger. Xalen blocked the first strike with his shield, but the second cut deep, though again the potion dulled the worst of it.

Seknafret and Ebyn circled the outer chambers, keeping distance, refusing to cluster. The translucent walls distorted their sightlines, making it nearly impossible to target Vecna reliably.

Brabara finally found the correct gem, only to arrive in an empty chamber. Vecna had already teleported back to the centre.

She swore and sprinted for a gem she knew would take her there.

Vecna waited until she and Xalen were close, then teleported again. The necrotic pulse of his departure washed over them, draining their strength. He reappeared in another chamber they’d explored earlier.

“We have to stop him from moving around so freely,” Brabara growled.

Her shadow rose up from the floor and struck her.

The others cried out. Their shadows had risen too.

Brabara smashed hers with her shield, landing two heavy blows before it dissipated back into the stone. She bolted past Seknafret and Ebyn, determined to corner the lich.

Vecna watched her approach, then teleported into the passage. His jaw unhinged, and a torrent of spectral entities poured forth, engulfing the three of them.

The ghosts clawed at their flesh and tore through their minds, dredging up horrors and fears. Brabara pushed through the visions, but Ebyn and Seknafret faltered.

Brabara burst through the spectral cloud and slammed the Rod into Vecna’s chest.

A deep, resonant chime rang out. A sound that vibrated through the crystal walls and made them hum.

Vecna gasped. Genuine fear rippled across his undead face as he recognized the artifact.

He scrambled backward and vanished, reappearing beside Xalen.

Necrotic energy lashed out, trying to drain Xalen’s life, but the healing failed to take. Vecna screamed in frustration and stabbed wildly, his rage ruining his aim.

Xalen struck back. His enchanted blade sliced through Vecna’s rotten flesh with ease. For the first time, Xalen saw worry flicker across the lich’s face.

Seknafret, still trembling, activated her staff. A swirling cloud of sand enveloped her, obscuring her from sight. If Vecna couldn’t see her, perhaps he’d ignore her. She retreated to the back of the chamber and waited.

Ebyn’s heart hammered. His breath came in sharp gasps. In his mind’s eye he saw Xalen torn apart by Vecna’s magic. He froze, unable to move.

His shadow raked his leg, snapping his attention back. With a panicked squeak, he grabbed a lodestone and pinch of dust, touched the Weave, and obliterated the shadow in a puff of inky smoke.

He dove into Seknafret’s sand cloud, hiding from Vecna’s gaze.

Brabara reappeared in the central chamber, and Vecna hurled a bolt of lightning at her. The crackling energy slammed into her, filling the chamber with the stench of burning flesh and ozone.

She fumbled for a healing potion, downed it, and charged. The Rod struck Vecna again. Another mighty chime shaking the dome.

Vecna vanished.

The necrotic pulse of his teleportation hit Brabara like a hammer. She staggered and stumbled too close to the ritual sphere.

Her body began to tear apart.

Seknafret watched in horror as Brabara’s flesh peeled away, bone exposed, then disintegrated entirely. The Rod clattered to the floor at Xalen’s feet.

Brabara was gone.

The sight cut through Seknafret’s fear like a blade. She reached deep into the power of secrets and spoke one of the precious truths they had gathered.

Time reversed.

Brabara’s destruction played backward – no less grotesque – until she was whole again, sprinting at Vecna after the lightning bolt.

She struck him. The chime rang out.

“Grapple Brabara!” Seknafret shouted through the bond.

Xalen didn’t hesitate. He slammed into Brabara, knocking her just far enough that the necrotic pulse sent her stumbling past the ritual sphere instead of into it.

“The third chamber!” Seknafret pointed.

Xalen saw Vecna. He teleported beside him and struck.

Vecna howled. He slashed back, carving two long cuts into each of Xalen’s arms. The wounds were shallow, but the necrotic agony that followed was blinding. Without the potion, Xalen would have collapsed.

Ebyn’s mind spiralled again. Visions of Vecna triumphant, the multiverse twisted into a nightmare, his friends dead or worse. He saw himself as he feared he truly was, a frightened child pretending at arcane mastery.

He should give up.

“Surrender is not an option,” a voice said inside his mind.

“Who’s there?” he whispered, blinking against the swirling sand that blinded him. “Show yourself.”

“You know who I am, Ebyn.”

He did. The realization struck him like a physical blow. His knees buckled.

“My Queen,” he breathed.

“Get up, Ebyn,” the Raven Queen said, her voice cold and absolute. “Finish this. Your companions need you. None of you can do this alone.”

“I can’t,” Ebyn said, the terror crushing his chest. “He’s too fast… too powerful… too much.”

“You must,” she insisted. “Look, Ebyn. See.”

And he obeyed.

He forced himself out of Seknafret’s concealing cloud and watched. Through the haze of fear, he saw. The way Vecna moved, the rhythm of his attacks, the spells he chose, and the ones he conspicuously avoided. The strain in his gestures. The flicker of concentration he couldn’t spare.

“He’s limited,” Ebyn whispered, understanding blooming like fire. “Holding the ritual together keeps him from using his full power.”

And just like that, the fear shattered. Replaced by a clarity sharper than any blade.

The lich flickered from place to place, never staying long enough for either of them to land more than a single blow. Both were bleeding, Brabara worst of all. But Vecna, too, showed the marks of battle – deep rents in his flesh, cracks in his bone, the faintest tremor in his movements.

Seeing that, seeing Vecna hurt, banished the last of Ebyn’s doubt.

Vecna teleported again. Xalen followed instantly, blade flashing. Brabara seized the moment to down another healing potion, then sprinted out of the central chamber to give chase.

“Come to me!” Ebyn called.

Brabara veered toward him. As soon as she was within reach, Ebyn grabbed her arm and teleported them both beside Vecna.

The lich snarled a curse at their sudden arrival, and Brabara and Xalen struck in unison. Their blows landed, each one carving away another piece of the arch‑lich’s strength.

Seknafret finally shook off the last of her terror. She moved closer, saw the three of them cornering Vecna in one of the smaller chambers, and teleported into their midst. Her sand cloud erupted around them, filling the air with a blinding storm.

Vecna screamed.

Surrounded. Blinded. Trapped.

For the first time since the battle began, he could not escape.

Brabara swung wildly, hampered by the sand but still landing blow after blow. Vecna, unable to see, unable to teleport safely, was forced to endure the onslaught.

She brought the Rod down.

The chamber shook as though she’d struck the world instead of the lich.

She swung again and missed, but her third strike connected. A flash of green light burst from the Rod, and it shattered in her hands.

The seven pieces vanished.

Cracks spider‑webbed through the crystal walls.

“Drop the sand!” Brabara shouted.

Seknafret dismissed the spell.

Just in time.

They all watched as Vecna was yanked backward. Pulled through a tear in the fabric of space and time. His skeletal fingers clawed at the air, his single eye blazing with hatred as an invisible force dragged him away like a hooked fish.

He fixed them with one final, venomous stare.

Then he was gone.

The rift snapped shut, leaving behind a jagged glowing scar that faded to nothing.

Brabara stood over the empty space where Vecna had been only seconds before, hands still raised, breath ragged.

“Did we win?”

Around them, the world began to fall apart.

“We can figure that out later,” Ebyn said. “Right now, we need to get away from here. Gather around.”

He pulled the Weave tight and teleported all four of them to the summit of the rapidly disintegrating volcano. The air was a maelstrom of heat and dust; the ground shuddered beneath their feet as the mountain tore itself apart. Above them, the portal still hung open, their only way home.

“Go!” Ebyn shouted.

Seknafret stepped through first, then Xalen, then Brabara, each vanishing into the shimmering threshold. Ebyn lingered for a heartbeat, staring down as massive slabs of stone sheared away and tumbled into the roiling chaos of Limbo below.

The entire mountain groaned like a dying beast.

Ebyn swallowed hard, turned, and stepped through the portal after them.