Lyra extinguished her Flame Blade. The radiant hum of her Bladesong withered, leaving her suddenly, starkly exhausted breathlessly human. She stared at you, her gaze flickering from the shattered hilt in your hand to the cooling remains of the devil at your feet.
"So... that was your rapier," she remarked, her voice a dry, toneless rasp.
She took a deliberate step back, yet she did not settle into a fighting stance. Her eyes remained predatory, vigilant, but the raw hatred that had fueled her seemed temporarily checked by the crushing weight of fatigue and the undeniable reality that you had just fought as one.
Within your mind, Jannis was still catching her breath, though her voice was beginning to settle into a sated purr. "You survived, Greywind. And the elf... she breathes still. What is your design now? I... I require a moment's respite. But do not linger."
You drew a long, ragged breath, meeting Lyra's eyes, which still burned with the embers of grief and rage. Your voice was hoarse, yet it carried with a piercing clarity through the smoke-choked vault.
"Enough blood has watered these stones today," you said, tossing the broken hilt to the floor with a metallic clang. "I have no desire to kill you. Not tonight."
Lyra's eyes narrowed, her body tense as a coiled spring, yet she did not strike.
"I killed Althea," you continued, letting each word sink into the silence, "because she had paved her path with the bodies of the innocent. Women, men, children... they were nothing more than fuel for her sand-cult. That was no 'cleansing' of the desert, Lyra. It was a butchery."
You paused, measuring her reaction. "It wasn't personal. It was... business."
Lyra stood frozen. The dying flickers of fire in the corner played across her features, highlighting a fracture of confusion, of doubt and a deeper, renewed agony.
"Althea..." she murmured, the name almost lost to the air. "Killing...?"
She shook her head slowly, as if trying to banish an impossible vision. "No... she... she wanted to save them. She told me the cult existed to appease the sand god, to avert the storms... She..."
But her words faltered. Her gaze drifted to Valerius's corpse before snapping back to yours. For the first time, the narrative she had clutched so tightly began to fray.
"Do you have proof?" she asked finally, her voice lower, more vulnerable.
Jannis, weary but recovering, whispered faintly in your mind. "Careful... she is brittle now. This is the opening. But promise her nothing you cannot deliver."
The ceiling groaned. Cracks spiderwebbed across the plaster, and the fine dust of pulverized stone began to rain down. The mansion was failing.
"Listen to me, Lyra," you said, your voice calm despite the smoke that threatened to seize your lungs. "I did not slay Althea for sport. I was hired to dismantle her cult at the Caverns of Breathing Sand. When I arrived, three captives were bound for the knife a young farmer, two wanderers. And there was another... a scholar from Candlekeep."
You paused to ensure she was listening. "Her name is Elara. She was entombed in a sand-dream crystal, used as a ritual battery. I freed her. She lives."
At the mention of "Candlekeep," Lyra's eyes flickered. It was a bastion of truth and ancient lore, not a house of shadows and lies.
"Althea," you continued, raising your voice over the sound of shifting timber, "ordered the abduction of commoners to drain their lives for her 'god.' That was no salvation. It was murder cloaked in sanctity. If you do not believe me, seek her out. Ask her what she witnessed in those caves."
"Good... a living witness. Shrewd," Jannis whispered. "But hurry, the vault is coming down."
Lyra remained motionless for a heartbeat. Her expression shifted from wrath to doubt, then finally to a profound, hollow grief. Tears welled, but she brushed them away with a tattered sleeve.
"Elara... of Candlekeep," she whispered. "I... I have heard the name. Althea said she was assisting her research..." Her voice choked. "But... why did she never speak of the victims? Why?"
She looked at you, and the venom was gone. In its place was an open wound of betrayal and the beginning of a grim acceptance. "Where exactly in Candlekeep is she?"
The ceiling heaved, a massive crack splitting the center. "Elara is in the Astral Tower. A researcher of oneiromancy. Find her," you said urgently, moving toward the open tunnel. "Now, follow me. I know the way out. This manor is a tomb!"
She hesitated for a second, but the instinct for survival won out. She offered a curt nod and followed, clutching the wound at her hip.
"Wait! Stop!" Jannis shrieked in your mind, her tone suddenly avaricious and demanding. "There is a fortune in this manor! Valerius's jewels, coin, perhaps arcana in his study! Are we truly to leave with empty pockets after nearly dying? It would take but a minute!"
You felt her greed a hunger not just for souls, but for the spoils of the world. A massive beam shattered against the floor ten feet behind you.
You rolled your eyes toward the empty air behind you and muttered, "You are a noisy woman!"
Lyra, still dazed and bleeding, shot you a sharp look. "What? Me?"
Before she could protest, Jannis manifested for a fleeting, visible instant. Her tall, lithe form, translucent and shimmering, appeared beside you. She let out a short, vulgar laugh.
"No, darling. He means me. You saw me earlier, didn't you or at least felt the weight of my shadow?" Jannis said to Lyra, a wicked grin on her face.
Lyra gasped, her eyes widening. Confronting the psychic aura was one thing; seeing the demonic projection was another. Her face went pale, realizing the depth of the infernal pact you carried.
"Enough talk!" you snarled, and without asking, you grabbed Lyra's arm and pulled her into a sprint. Jannis dissolved back into your psyche, still giggling.
You bolted through the dark corridors, up the cracked stairs, and finally reached the ground floor. The roar of the collapse grew deafening. Smoke was everywhere. You spotted the shattered glass of the parlor window.
"Jump!" you shouted. You hauled Lyra with you and leaped.
You crashed into the soft undergrowth of the rear garden. Lyra groaned but remained whole. You landed hard, your temporary vitality absorbing the worst of the impact. You lay there for a moment, drawing in the cold night air to purge the smoke from your lungs.
Behind you, the Valerius Manor succumbed. A thunderous roar was followed by a plume of dust that billowed into the night sky. The lights of Silverhaven began to spark in the distance; the town guard would have heard the catastrophe.
You stood in the garden, battered and bloodied, but alive. "You must go," you said to Lyra, your voice level. "The guards will be here within minutes. They will assume anyone found in these ruins is a culprit. Go to Candlekeep. Find Elara. She will tell you the truth."
Lyra looked at you, her inner conflict still visible, but she nodded slowly. "I... will find her."
"And the payment from the Baroness?" Jannis urged. "We need proof of death, or she won't pay a copper!"
"The Baroness can find her own proof in the ruins," you retorted in your mind. "I have slain the target. If she dares to cheat me, I will come for her next."
Jannis fell silent, then gave a short laugh. "Arrogant. I like it."
You looked back at Lyra one last time. "The Fire Place. Dragnar's tavern in the port city," you said. "Consider it my home. If you still wish to find me for vengeance or for talk ask for Dragnar. He usually knows."
You paused, then added with a lighter tone, "Farewell. I hope you find what you seek."
Without waiting for a reply, you turned away. "Come, Jannis. Let's find an inn. I need to rest, and you need to sleep off that 'meal' of yours."
After thirty minutes of navigating back alleys to avoid patrols, you found a derelict inn in the trade district: The Rusty Lantern. You tossed a purse of coin to a barman who asked no questions and secured a room on the second floor.
You did not collapse onto the bed. Instead, you sat on the floor, back against the wall beside the window, facing the door. It was a tactical vantage point hidden from the street, yet commanding the entry.
"Jannis," you murmured, eyes half-closed. "You watch first. In case the guards come sniffing."
In your mind, Jannis huffed. Her voice was heavy with the lethargy of her recent "feast." "Typical. You think I don't need sleep? I've just consumed a massive soul; my psychic form needs to digest the energy "
But you were already gone. Physical exhaustion and the drain of your magic dragged you into the dark. Your head slumped to your chest, your breath deepening. Greywind slept in his blood-stained leather armor, a phantom among the shadows.
For a time, the room was silent.
Then, a soft warmth began to permeate the air. Jannis manifested not fully physical, but solid enough to touch the world. She appeared beside you, her marble-white hair flowing, her pale eyes softened. She looked at you, shivering slightly against the chill of the floorboards. Her usual sadistic smirk melted into something deeper a possessive, protective gaze.
She reached out a translucent hand toward the thin blanket on the bed. With a fluid gesture, the fabric lifted and drifted toward her. Carefully, Jannis draped the blanket over your shoulders, wrapping you against the cold.
She sat on the floor beside you, coiling herself into a phantom embrace. Your head leaned against her illusory shoulder.
"Sleep, my love," Jannis whispered to the silence. "I shall keep watch. Just this once... for you fed me so very well tonight."
She turned her gaze toward the door, her eyes glowing faintly in the dark, a silent sentinel against the world. Outside, the city of Silverhaven slowly surrendered to the silence of the night.