Grief & Granny

In the quiet of the forest night, the party keeps watch near their camp. Every so often, the distant sounds of goblins echo through the trees—sometimes far, sometimes unnervingly close.

“They sound kind of spooky,” Daiki mutters, glancing into the dark.

Ashira shrugs, her tone light. “If they don’t sound threatening, I’ll just treat them as the music of the night.”

“I can actually hear you singing that,” Daiki whispers.

“Yeah, but… no,” Ashira replies with a faint laugh.

Then, at one point, the goblin sounds shift—too close. Ashira narrows her eyes, peering into the shadows. She sees nothing. The forest remains still. After a while, satisfied that nothing is amiss, she lets Masaki know it’s his turn. He rises silently from his trance, taking over the watch. It’s uneventful, and Daiki takes the next watch.

For a while, it’s uneventful—just goblin noises again, distinguishable now. Still distant, perhaps just louder this time. But then, the forest erupts with chaos—shouting, screaming—goblins in full panic.

They run. The sound surrounds the camp.

“They’re running in all directions,” Daiki realizes, eyes wide.

Masaki reacts immediately, moving through the camp, waking the others. When he reaches Ashira, he covers her mouth gently, whispering reassurance to prevent alarm.

Wolfgang snaps awake the moment he’s touched. “Spot on,” he mutters, grabbing his crossbow and slipping out of the tent.

Outside, the noise intensifies. Goblins are fleeing wildly, without caution. Somewhere far off, a single torch flickers between the trees.

Wolfgang looks up. “I’ll fly into the canopy. I want to see where they’re going.”

He takes off but crashes through a few branches on the way up, wincing. Once above the treeline, he gets a clear view of the goblin camp—flames spew from the entrance. Bodies burn at the threshold. A warbeast lies engulfed in fire. Goblins scatter into the woods, disappearing quickly from view.

He isn’t sure if the fire is magical, but the flames feel too violent to be ordinary, but there’s no clear sign.

“It looks intense,” he murmurs, watching. A blast of light surges briefly from the cave’s mouth. Then it dims, glowing faintly from within.

Blinded slightly from the blaze, Wolfgang descends again toward the camp below.

In the dim light near the cave, something shifts—sudden, near, and unnatural. A warg appears. Daiki hears something goblin-like spoken from within.

“It sounds goblin-like,” he says, tense. “Coming from the warg.”

The creature walks toward them, sees the group—and bolts.

“Speak Common, you fool!” Amber snaps after it.

“Bye,” Ashira adds dryly.

“I think this might be the ritual gone awry,” Amber mutters. “Or the dragon. Maybe we’re too late.”

“It does seem like it took care of the goblin camp,” Ashira offers.

Daiki nods. “So… the goblins are dead. The people are dead. I guess our job is done—no, okay, I get it. The dragon might be a bigger problem. Like, literally.”

“We lost stealth,” Wolfgang observes.

“We can’t wait until morning,” Ashira says, but Wolfgang cuts in.

“The cave is flooded. With flames.”

“That’s perfect,” Ashira replies without missing a beat.

Amber shakes her head. “That’s why I say it’s the dragon. Come on—it’s a cleansing fire.”

“Let it burn,” Ashira says softly. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll check it out.”

“I have to agree,” Masaki says. “There’s nothing we can do now, in the dark. We still need rest. One guard at the cave entrance should be enough to make sure the dragon doesn’t leave.”

“If it’s a dragon,” Daiki says. “I’ll hide in a bush. Conceal myself with plants.”

“But you need sleep too,” Masaki reminds him.

“I can sit and watch,” Ashira offers.

“We’ve had just over five hours,” Wolfgang notes.

Masaki nods. “It’s halfway through my second hour. I can manage. I’ll rest there and send a message if anything changes.”

Amber agrees. “You can send your Tressym to wake us up.”

Masaki nods. “Right. I’ll leave it with you.”

Masaki positions himself near the cave, settling into quiet watch. “I’ll be fine,” he assures. “It’s not like I’m going to fight right now.”

The rest of the camp returns to rest, while Masaki keeps silent watch at the cave mouth, waiting and scouting….

---

Masaki moves through the darkness toward the cave, careful and quiet. At the entrance, the charred remains of goblins and a warg still smolder. Flames no longer glow from within. Where Wolfgang once saw fire, Masaki sees only black stillness.

He studies the cave mouth. Fifteen feet wide, it opens into a steep pit—more canyon than cavern. Across it, the old goblin camp waits, now silent and scorched. The defensive spikes at its edge are burned and brittle, still faintly simmering but mostly intact.

Masaki stays put. “I’ll just keep my watch here. I don’t need to go exploring by myself in the middle of the night.”

Time passes. Then, movement—another warg appears across the canyon. It’s not the same one from the camp. This one is scarred, lightly burned. Masaki watches. No dragon in sight. No goblins either. Just scattered bodies deeper inside.

The forest behind him stays deathly quiet. “It’s eerily silent,” he thinks. Even the wildlife seems to have vanished.

Then, faintly, from the cave: laughter. Not goblin laughter. Something darker.

Masaki frowns. “It kind of sounds abyssal.”

He recalls what little he knows—creatures from the infinite layers of the Abyss, pure evil, enemies of devils. But dragons, he knows, aren’t abyssal.

“So it might be something else,” he murmurs. “A dark ritual… but dragons aren’t necessarily dark.”

He keeps his watch, eyes sharp. Once, he catches something move—something reaching into the air. But as soon as he looks, it vanishes.

“Great. That’s not creepy at all.”

Eventually, the others stir. Dawn approaches. Masaki makes his way back to the group. “Nothing happened,” he says simply.

The camp wakes. The forest stays quiet. The long rest is over. As they pack up, Wolfgang pulls out some bread and cheese Amber had bought the day before..

“Still good,” he says, and they eat in silence.

---

“I kind of doubt there’s a dragon in there. It looks more like a… how do I say this… like a demon” Masaki says. “Like something from the abyss,” he adds.

Daiki tilts his head. “Aren’t tieflings from demon ancestry?”

Ashira shrugs. “I think so, but—”

Wolfgang folds his arms. “Just because you have the looks of a demon’s descendant, doesn’t mean you’ve been one.”

“I’m not saying Ash has anything to do with it,” Daiki says, a bit defensive. “But maybe…”

Tachibana interrupts, “Devils and demons are different.”

“Are they?” Daiki asks. “Aren’t demons devils? I don’t know. Isn’t that all the same thing?”

“To me they’re all fiends,” Wolfgang says flatly.

They try to sort through what little they know. Ashira admits she doesn’t know much about devils or demons. “Not particularly,” she says.

Tachibana shakes his head. “I didn’t hear any dragon sounds or see any fire, but I did hear some very ominous laughter. And there were… things, in the air. Hard to catch.”

“So do we just walk in?” Wolfgang suggests.

“Or scout a little,” Tachibana replies. “It’s a heavily fortified camp. Spikes—partly burned—but still. Walking in blind would be stupid.”

Amber steps in. “Do we know for sure that’s the only way in?”

“There might be a back entrance,” Tachibana says.

Daiki chimes in, “Didn’t Hugo say that if they flee, they won’t go to other camps? I doubt they come back. They just flee and—bye.”

“No, no,” Tachibana clarifies. “We’re saying there might be two entrances. Not about them coming back.”

“Oh,” Daiki nods. “Like a second entrance.”

“Caves are often connected,” Ashira adds.

“Does it matter for us?” Wolfgang asks.

“It might help,” Amber says. “Better than just strolling in like, ‘Hello, bonjour, we want to talk to you, abyssal being.’”

“I’m quite stealthy,” Wolfgang offers.

“Feel free,” Masaki says. “You’ve got wings, though, right? You could just fly over.”

“I don’t work,” Wolfgang says dramatically.

“What are you doing here then?” Ashira presses.

“For pleasure,” he smirks. “Adventuring is pleasure.”

“Exactly,” Tachibana says. “So fly over, enjoy it, and maybe spot another way in.”

Wolfgang ascends. “I’ll go up to about 120 feet, circle around like a proper vulture.”

Amber narrows her eyes. “I can’t protect you in the air. That’s outside this contract.”

“With a blaze at my side, I don’t need protection,” Wolfgang says smoothly before lifting off.

Ashira watches him go. “It’s kind of sad. Since she always protects him, he’s never really in his element.”

“We should support him when he comes back,” Daiki says.

“With a big hug,” Ashira adds.

“I’m not a hugger,” Amber grumbles.

Meanwhile, Wolfgang scans from above. The forest sprawls below, a ring of elevated, brownish rock catching his eye. No goblins, no fire—just oddly shaped stones. He glides lower, moving stealthily, and circles toward them. Something feels off.

He lands near the formation. The rocks don’t look placed on purpose, but they resemble a caved-in area—possibly an entrance. He inspects them briefly, then lifts off again to report back.

Amber sits, cleaning her weapon. “The ichor from the Ettercap’s still on it.”

Nearby, Tachibana eyes the cave entrance. With daylight filtering in, he moves closer for a better look. The canyon ahead is deep—his darkvision can’t find the bottom. He drops a rock. It falls for a long while before making a sound.

He ties a rope around a rock and then around himself. The knot feels shaky, but it’s the best he can do. Climbing seems safer than jumping. He grips the edge and scales across, pulling himself to the other side.

Ashira calls after him, “Where are you going?”

“Just taking a look,” he whispers back.

From his new vantage point, he spots something—a warg. It turns its head. It hears him.

Tachibana starts climbing, gripping the rocky edge of the canyon wall. Halfway up, a rock shifts beneath his hand. He barely catches himself with the other. His breath catches, but he manages to steady himself and reach the other side.

“That was close,” he mutters.

Behind him, the rope he tied earlier slips loose. Ashira watches from across the gap. “Fuck.”

The realization sinks in—if he had fallen, there’d be no safety line. The rope isn’t secure.

“That’s quite deep,” Amber notes, raising an eyebrow.

A distant thud breaks the tension. A creature—one of the enemy—leaps across the gap. It doesn’t make it. There’s a scream, then silence.

Tachibana turns back, heading out of the cave. “I’ve scouted. Just two seconds, but I’ve been to the other side.”

He rejoins the group. “There were a lot of bodies. Stuff in the corners. Some of it looked… flesh-colored. And there was a ward, hiding near the entrance.”

Ashira tilts her head. “The cave goes further?”

Tachibana nods. “A bit to the right, where the ward was.”

Amber raises an eyebrow. “What happened? Because that scream was audible from outside.”

“Some people make noises when they die,” Tachibana says, unfazed.

Moments later, Wolfgang descends from the sky, landing with a dramatic superhero pose—one talon in the ground, wings flared.

“I love a good flapping of the wings in the early morning,” he says. “There might be a second entrance, but clearing it would take hours. This main path is still our best shot.”

Tachibana agrees. “The regular entrance is clear now. No more enemies.”

Ashira nods. “It might be better to just go through the front.”

Wolfgang turns. “So, stealth or drums?”

“Probably more stealthily,” Tachibana suggests.

“Is that okay for you, Ashira?” Daiki asks.

“I’m not too worried,” Ashira replies.

Wolfgang studies her. “What color’s your hair right now?”

“It’s like… honey-colored. Normal.”

“Still sad?” Tachibana asks gently.

Ashira smiles. “Much less sad.”

Wolfgang says. “I tried sneaking, but I’m not sure what’s stealthier—flapping or walking.”

“Or being an owl,” Daiki suggests. “Do you have feathers like one?”

“More like a vulture,” Wolfgang replies. “They make noise.”

“Still, flying’s safer,” Tachibana says. “It’s a big drop.”

“And if there’s no one around,” Daiki adds, “does sound matter?”

“Still safer to fly over,” Tachibana insists. “Maybe tie a rope to help the rest climb.”

---

The group moves cautiously through the dark cave, each member attempting to stay silent despite the echo of armor and footsteps against the stone.

The cave opens into a wide chasm. Wolfgang unfurls a rope and flies across the darkness, his wings slicing through the air. He vanishes into the void but lands safely, seeking something to secure the rope on the far side. “Let me know when it’s tied,” a voice calls out behind him. He nods, fumbling for a solid anchor.

Soon, Amber grips the rope and crosses first. Her muscles strain, but she reaches the other side. Masaki follows—and slips. His feet lose contact, and he drops. A blur of wings—Wolfgang dives. He catches Masaki mid-fall, slowing the descent just enough. Masaki crashes into the wall, battered, but alive. Amber, already on the far ledge, tosses another rope. “Grab it. I’ll pull you up.”

Masaki clutches it like a lifeline. “Please… don’t let go.” Amber hauls him with Wolfgang’s help, and Masaki scrambles up, breathless, bloodied, but grateful. “Thank you,” he gasps. “A pleasure,” Wolfgang replies.

Ashira eyes the gap. “I’ll climb,” she decides. She tries—but slips halfway. Wolfgang is already in motion, reaching for her. He grabs her hand, trying to lift her. It’s not enough. She drops—but only ten feet. He steadies her against the wall. “Grab the rope!” Amber yells. She does—and with help, clambers up.

Daiki watches all this unfold. Then, without hesitation, he leaps onto the rope, thorn whip lashing out ahead. It catches. He glides across like a shadow, feet barely touching the cord. At the end, he flips—landing with theatrical flair. Wolfgang claps slowly. “Thank you, Daiki, for your elegant passage.”

The group regathers, bruised but intact. Masaki slumps by the cold remnants of a fire. “Could be better,” he mutters. His hands and arms are streaked with blood. Wolfgang glances at him. “I’d offer a healing potion, but… I’ll save it for later.”

In the dim light of the ruined chamber, Daiki surveys the room. Scattered across the floor are rusted weapons—cheap swords and daggers—alongside gruesome remnants: severed limbs, human intestines, and bones. Some pieces are fresher than others, some gnawed clean. Wolfgang, standing apart, sees none of this.

Amber steps cautiously toward the grisly scene. “I can see legs, intestines… arms, torsos,” she says. She kneels, inspecting them. “They’re humanoid. Not goblinoid.” Her tone is flat. “Could they be the abducted humans?”

“They’re old,” she adds after a closer look. “Some are just bones. Teeth marks. Goblins must’ve fed on them.” She glances at the rusted weapons. “They were cut apart with these. But… no clothing. Just parts. No way to identify them.”

Wolfgang murmurs, “Could you try, for the families in the city?”

Amber straightens. “I tried. Nothing to trace them by.”

“Perhaps magic made them look old,” Daiki suggests.

“Then you check,” Amber shoots back. “I’m just telling you what I see.”

Ashira taps idly on a drum lying nearby, frowning at the dull sound. “Disappointing,” she mutters, then glances toward the others. “Where to next?”

“I don’t see another room,” Daiki says.

“You hear my voice though,” Amber calls from ahead. “It’s over here.”

With visibility poor, Ashira lights her hooded lantern. A cone of warm light spreads out, revealing more of the space. “Sixty feet bright, another sixty dim,” she announces, spinning slowly to illuminate their path.

They move on. The next room reeks—rotting meat, old blood, goblin stench. Bones lie in heaps. Amber steps forward, inspecting the piles. “Something moved,” she says suddenly. She draws her blade and points. “I see you. Come out.”

From within the bones, a goblin scrambles. Amber lunges, yanking him out like a misbehaving cat. The goblin swipes at her with a dagger, but she knocks it from his hand and strips him of his weapons. “You don’t need these. You have us now.”

Ashira shines the lantern in his face, blinding him. “What happened to you?” she asks coldly.

“Where is the dragon?” Amber demands. “Where’s your queen?”

The goblin stammers. Ashira’s blade glints as she trails it near his neck. “Tell the truth,” she warns.

Under the pressure, the goblin talks. He mentions more captives ahead, uncertain traps. Ashira narrows her eyes. “Then you walk in front. If there’s a trap, you’ll be the first to die.”

Tachibana considers tying him up and leaving him behind. Others weigh the risk of betrayal.

“This one isn’t innocent,” Ashira says, motioning back to the heaps of human remains. “What do you do with a dog that bites people?”

Wolfgang offers the goblin a chance. “One copper. Run. Don’t speak to the others. Don’t return to the city.”

Ashira pauses, watching the goblin for signs of deceit. A flicker of red crosses her face—worry, fleeting.

Then she lowers the dagger. “It’s done,” she says. The goblin starts running out of the cavern, and on his way, Ashira shouts: “Don’t trip on your way out!” The goblin almost falters on that sarcastic remark, but runs off anyway. 

---

The tunnel walls flicker in the faint light. Amber peers ahead. “Is there like a door?” she asks. Daiki steps forward, gesturing. “You should be able to pass through.”

Wolfgang frowns. “This is the only way through, right?” No one disagrees. Amber moves to the spikes. “I’ll break these down so it’s easier.” She starts tearing at them. 

The room is quiet. The ground is stained, the smell sharp. “This is… bloody,” Amber mutters. Ashira echoes, “Bloody.” They scan the floor. A strange formation catches their eyes—five holes with wooden bars on top, untouched by flame. “Almost like draining holes,” Amber notes.

Tachibana leans toward the first one. “Hello? Are you still alive?” A moment passes. No answer—then from another hole, a voice. “Hello?”

The group gathers. A boy’s voice rises. “I’m Dink.” Amber and Ashira begin removing the wooden slats. “Why are you down here?” someone asks. Dink answers, “I was captured… with my mother. We were picking berries.”

One by one, they peer into the pits. A man’s body. A woman. Two others—empty. Amber hauls the bars off, helping the boy up, then moves to free the others. Tachibana offers support. Daiki inspects Dink. The boy is thin, pale, sickly.

“I think something’s off,” Daiki murmurs. He crouches, watching. Dink vomits suddenly, a thick, curdled mess. “Goat cheese,” Ashira mutters.

“Anyone got food?” Daiki asks. Ashira hands over a ration. Dink eats, slowly. “They took my mom,” he says. “Last night… I think.”

Amber checks the bodies. “They’re not alive,” she says softly. Daiki kneels to be sure. No breath, no pulse.

The party discusses what to do with Dink. “Maybe he’s safer outside,” Ashira suggests. Daiki nods. “We could ask the forest protector.” Wolfgang agrees, ready to carry the boy out if needed.

They light a fire near the entrance. Masaki uses scraps and discarded wood. Shira and Amber trade teasing remarks about their fire-starting skills, while Tachibana builds a safe resting place for Dink.

As they move deeper into the cave, Amber takes the lead, followed by Daiki, Wolfgang, and Ashira. The air thickens. A terrible stench hits them like a wave. Amber recoils. “Ugh,” she groans, barely holding it together.

Wolfgang gags. “This is unbearable.” Amber refuses to leave him behind and stays. Daiki tries to mask the smell with the scent of flowers in his mind. “Pretty little flowers,” he mutters.

They press on, even Wolfgang. The room ahead is full of burnt bodies. The smell lingers—strong, putrid. In the next chamber, they find empty barrels, old crates, a pile of bedrolls, a bundle of arrows, and some rusted swords. Wolfgang and Tachibana take what they can use. “Let’s keep moving,” Amber says. The path continues down.

In the darkness of the cave, the party moves cautiously. Ashira treads silently, her senses sharp. Daiki spots a ladder and whispers, “I see a ladder.” Amber grins.

But the light they carry ruins their stealth. “Not everyone rolls with disadvantage because of the light,” someone reminds them. Amber sighs, “I already have.” Daiki, distracted, mutters, “We there are burnt bodies here, right?” But there are none—only a sickening stench.

The group inches forward, eyes adjusting. Smoke seeps from holes in the ground. “Do you dare put your head above it?” someone asks. Daiki does—and promptly vomits as he sees mountains of charred goblin corpses. “They burned while they were sleeping,” he says, shaken.

Amber surveys the carnage. “Hundreds of bodies… All goblins. If this was a ritual, something went wrong.”

They investigate further. Tridents fly down ledges. Ashira shines her light across the stone. Goblin heads on spikes emerge in the beam. Daiki murmurs to Ashira, “What if the queen did what you did? Burned everything to hide it?”

“Well, that would be smart,” Ashira replies. “But are goblins that smart?”

A hidden breath of greenish fire meets the trident as it floats too high. “Is it poison?” asks Tachibana. It is—but the trident is immune. “It’s safe,” he says, breathing easier.

Amber, meanwhile, examines an unearthed carcass. “These might be fossils… something ancient,” she realizes, awed by the scale.

Suddenly, a wave of danger rises. A winged shape moves through the smoke—a dragon.

Wolfgang, undeterred, steps forward. “We are here to prevent danger,” he declares.

Amber pleads, “Please, not yet. Let me try speaking to it. I know Draconic.” But Wolfgang is already moving. “I stand before you!” he announces.

The dragon approaches, and hisses, “Die.”

And combat begins.

The air grows tense. Spells fly. Ashira snuffs out the lantern, plunging the area into darkness. “Stay behind me,” Daiki says, shielding her.

A bluish flash reveals the dragon briefly before darkness swallows it again.

Then, from the ground—a geyser of burning filth erupts, scalding, vile, and sudden. The fight has truly begun.

A tremor runs through the ground, and Daiki and Wolfgang both react—one just in time. Daiki leaps aside, narrowly avoiding the geyser of fire and poison erupting from beneath. Amber shifts her stance, keeping close but not too close.

Wolfgang winces as a splash of fire catches him, followed by a sickening cloud of poison. “I can’t see anything!” he growls, blinking through the blinding haze. “I feel everything, though.” The damage lingers but isn’t enough to stop him. He stumbles forward, half-guided by instinct. His spell fizzles. 

Amber braces herself, watching as the dragon wheels in the sky, its wings beating violently. She draws the blood axe and slides down the slope, eyes locked on the creature. She steadies her stance and flames erupt at her feet. As the dragon descends, Amber leaps, rage flaming around her. She collides with the beast midair, searing it with fire. Her axe swings wide—just misses.

The dragon roars, wings buffeting the air as it narrowly avoids being split in two. It glares at her, fuming.

Then it wheels around and unleashes a torrent of corrupted flame—green and red—directly into Ashira’s face. She doesn’t see it coming. She doesn’t see anything at all.

Flames rush toward her. She coughs, stumbles, and collapses.

Daiki watches Ashira fall and something inside him snaps. “Ash!” he cries. Plants erupt from the earth, twisting upward, lashing at the dragon and curling protectively around Ashira. She stirs, barely—but she’s alive.

“If you want her,” Daiki shouts to the sky, “then come and claim her!”

Across the battlefield, Masaki climbs a ledge, casting a chromatic orb. It slams into the dragon’s chest, lighting up the dark sky. For a moment, Wolfgang sees everything—the dragon above him, wings unfurled in wrath. He narrows his eyes, wings spread, hovering ten feet in the air. “Go back to the shadows,” he growls and casts a curse. Energy crackles as he draws his bow and fires. The arrow strikes true—piercing the dragon with a mix of force and fury. And then, a low, abyssal laugh rips through the battlefield. A totem has risen—laughing, hideous, echoing in their minds.

Masaki freezes. Fear takes hold.

The others resist.

Wolfgang turns toward the dragon, still burning from the strike. “This isn’t over.”

The dragon, massive and terrible, soars above before landing heavily atop a stone outcropping. From this height, it unleashes a cone of poison downward. The blast erupts, toxic and overwhelming. Wolfgang, Amber, and Ashira all reel under the poison’s force. Amber mutters, managing to resist some of the damage. Daiki, coughing, shakes his head. Wolfgang doesn’t just fail — he drops from the air, his body limp. The glow in his eye fades. Ashira stumbles, and collapses too.

A hush falls. “Are you really telling me Wolfgang is dying?” Amber whispers, stunned.

Then, suddenly, Ashira’s eyes open. Her wounds vanish, her form glowing faintly. She rises. Amber doesn’t notice, her attention fixed on the dragon, but others do. Ashira looks around, wide-eyed. “Guys… this is Ryzen. The Deathlord.”

Daiki kneels near Wolfgang’s body, whispering in the ancient tongue of Auran. “Come back, Wolfgang… we still need you.” A whisper of wind follows the words as he casts Healing Word — but Wolfgang doesn’t stir.

Masaki, still shaken but determined, teleports through shadowy mist and strikes at the incapacitated dragon. The attacks glance off, frustration mounting. The ground shifts — a lair action. Goblin corpses begin to twitch, their blackened hands reaching. Amber and Masaki dodge the grasping limbs just in time.

Ashira stands tall now. “Your breath really smells,” she snaps, casting another spell. But the dragon resists, unfazed.

Then Amber, enraged, steps in. She grips her axe. “Let’s fucking go,” she says through clenched teeth. Her swing is true, biting into the dragon’s hide. The abyssal runes on the dragon flare — necrotic energy lashes back. But Amber doesn’t back down. She activates her Second Wind and glares at the beast, still standing. The dragon rises, eyes blazing. It lunges at her — the bite connects, but Amber weathers the hit. A claw swipe follows, but misses wildly. 

Ashira, from across the chamber, sneers. “Deathlord. Why are you still in this weak body?” She tries to shake him with another insult. It doesn’t land.

Daiki steadies himself, eyes tracking the dragon. He prepares — a storm whip held in reserve, ready to pull the creature back should it try to fly.

Masaki flanks and strikes again. Steel slashes through scale. Another hit follows. Suddenly, a geyser erupts nearby — a lair trap. Masaki reacts fast, avoiding the worst of it, scorched only slightly.

Amber, tears mixing with fury, steps up once more. “Blood axe. Let’s end this,” she growls. The strike is brutal. She grins through gritted teeth. “Still alive?” she asks. The dragon is wounded, angry, and weakening. 

The battle nears its end. The dragon — wounded, grounded, and standing shakily on a ledge — faces the party with shredded wings and glowing runes falling away from its body.

Amber rises, barely steady, but her grip on the Blood Axe is tight. “Fine,” she whispers, stepping over Wolfgang’s still body. Tears stream down her face, but her hands don’t waver. She swings — the axe bites deep.

The dragon tries to crawl away, but its body gives out. One limb at a time, it collapses. The runes on its skin dissolve, and the beast lies still.

Silence falls.

Amber drops to her knees, cradling Wolfgang’s lifeless body. Her voice breaks. “I failed. I failed him. How can I save anyone if I couldn’t save him?”

Daiki steps forward, hesitant. “Are you okay?”

Amber straightens, her jaw set. “We need to go. We have to save Wolfgang.”

“We should go to Evermere,” Daiki says. “Maybe someone there can help.”

Amber lifts Wolfgang gently — the rage gone, only sorrow remains. She carries him in her arms, trembling but determined.

While Amber heads for the exit, Masaki and the others gather supplies from the dragon’s hoard: scrolls, potions, coins, and a severed head — proof of the Queen’s fate.

Amber doesn’t wait. She holds Wolfgang as if he were made of glass and begins to run.

They gather what they can carry. Gold, silver, scrolls. The party splits briefly, but each member moves with the same resolve.

They will not let Wolfgang die in vain.

---

The group emerges from the forest and stands at the edge of a small clearing. A modest cabin rests at its center, quiet and out of place. As they approach, the door creaks open on its own.

Daiki freezes. “Granny will find us,” he recalls aloud, remembering the warning they received earlier. He steps forward, cautious. “Wait… I’ll check it out,” he says, moving toward the cabin alone.

The structure is simple, square, and unassuming. Its open doorway reveals only pitch-black darkness. From within, a voice calls, warm and unsettling:
“Come on in, young one.”

Amber pulls back instinctively. “No. No no no,” she murmurs. Ashira listens carefully, uncertain. “She sounds… amused,” she says finally. “Hard to tell if she’s sincere.”

Despite their hesitation, Masaki and Ashira step inside. Daiki joins them. Amber lingers behind with Wolfgang’s lifeless body and Dink.

Inside, the space defies expectation—larger than it should be, cluttered with strange objects: a gleaming axe embedded with clockwork, a jar with a hairy finger, a bubbling green kettle. A towering woman stands at the room’s heart, her presence uncanny. She wears a tattered red dress, purple skin stretched across an elongated face, horns curling from her black hair. Her smile cuts too wide.
“Well hello,” she greets them. “I heard someone ask for me.”

Ashira responds cautiously. “Yeah, well… you found us.”

The woman grins. “So. What would you like?”

Ashira speaks first. “One of our friends died.”

“Then let’s talk about you,” the woman replies, brushing past the request. She draws a long obsidian dagger from across the room with arms that seem to stretch unnaturally far. Holding it delicately, she whispers:
“Two truths buried in your blood, child. One of your sister. One of your birthright. Truth is never free.”

Ashira stares at the blade. “What’s the cost?”

“A test. If you fail, there will be a price. But if you pass, you may choose one truth.”

After a pause, Ashira decides. “I don’t want anything to do with my sister. I’ll go for the birthright.”

She takes the blade, makes a shallow cut on her finger. As her blood touches the edge, the room tilts violently—then darkness consumes her.

—

Masaki enters next. The woman greets him with unsettling warmth. She offers tea. As he drinks, she peers into his cup, fingers trailing through the dregs. His vision blurs.
“Do you seek something for yourself,” she asks, “or for Raisin? For Setsuna? Or Jin?”

He chooses to help his friend. She tests him, just like Ashira. The world shifts again.

---

Daiki steps in, seeking answers about the trees. The woman tells him to fetch something—something simple. A branch.

Outside, he crosses the clearing, finds an oak tree, and breaks off a limb. He returns, and quickly tells Amber to go in too. As he offers it to her, her fingers elongate across the room, grasping it with eerie grace. She examines the branch, then snaps it. A wind howls. The world fractures around him.

---

Amber, still outside, clutches Wolfgang’s body. She hesitates but finally enters. The others are gone. She turns to leave, but the door is shut.
“Please don’t go yet,” the woman says behind her. “Let me at least introduce myself.”

Amber wheels around. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Language, young lady.”

Desperation in her voice, Amber demands help. “He’s dying—or dead. I don’t have time for this.”

“Time is relative here,” the woman says softly. She gestures, and suddenly a bed appears. Wolfgang lies upon it. A crystal orb is placed on the table, swirling with mist.

“Do you want something?”

Amber nods. The cost? Memories.
“A memory of the one you loved the most,” the woman offers. “Not death. Just… kept in a jar.”

Amber hesitates, conflicted.
“You want my memories of my brother,” she says.
“You already know which one I mean,” the woman replies.

The choice looms.

---

The world is eerily silent, broken only by the creaking of lonely, ice-laden branches. Snow drifts down slowly from a grey, cloud-choked sky, settling on a pristine blanket of white. There’s no time to take in the view. Daiki already moving.

In the distance, towering above all else, a colossal frost-covered tree looms. It dwarfs every other tree, its bark shimmering like crystal beneath the faintest glow of moonlight. Its branches stretch endlessly upward, disappearing into the storm-heavy sky.

Something glimmers near the top—calling to him. A whisper on the wind urges him to climb. The air itself weighs heavy, as if gravity is thicker in this place.

Daiki is already there, gripping his staff close. It’s made from a branch of the tree at home. He senses something in the wind, something speaking just beyond hearing. He listens.

“It’s cold,” he says softly.

But it’s not normal cold. He knows the air is bitter, but his body doesn’t shiver. It’s something deeper—cold he feels in his heart rather than his skin.

He holds the staff tighter and focuses. “I try to listen,” he murmurs, “for some clue. Something’s here. It’s trying to tell me something.”

He tries to observe his surroundings, but his vision keeps pulling upward—always toward the top of that immense tree. There’s something up there. He’s sure of it.

“That must be where the answer is.”

Looking over the branches, Daiki gauges the climb. Strength isn’t his strong suit, but maybe he can leap from one branch to another. That might work better.

Following instinct, he ties his staff to his back and approaches the base of the tree. It feels even taller than the one he knew back home. He searches for the first branch and begins to climb.

His first attempt fails. As he leaps, one foot slips. He catches himself, barely, hanging on with a jolt of adrenaline. There’s a moment of eerie stillness. The tree feels like it’s watching him.

Nothing happens. He exhales. He’s lucky—for now.

He places a hand on the bark and whispers, “Can you guide me to the top?” His voice is hesitant. “I don’t know how magical you are. My mother spoke to trees back home, not me. But I can try. I don’t even know if this is real.”

The tree is silent at first, but then a deep rumble vibrates through its trunk. A shiver runs through Daiki’s hands. He slips, falling back slightly. He had barely reached the first branch—he isn’t far off the ground.

Still, the setback rattles him.

“Maybe I have to do things differently,” he says under his breath. “I’m here to learn.”

He closes his eyes and thinks of his companions. Amber’s strength and warmth. Ashira’s inspiration. Wolfgang’s leadership. Masaki’s patience. Their presence settles in his mind like anchors.

“What do I learn from my friends?”

He climbs again, drawing on their strengths. His limbs move with purpose—Masaki’s calm in his breath, Amber’s raw strength in his grip, Ashira’s agility in his steps, Wolfgang’s steadiness in his focus.

This time, he finds solid footing. He climbs higher.

“That’s a success,” he whispers to himself. “Maybe I have to do it like this.”

He steadies his breathing. “Let’s do it again.”

His thoughts return to balance—his journey’s purpose. He climbs, leaning into each movement with newfound resolve. “It’s about learning… about leadership… about balance.”

He continues upward, now leaping from one branch to another with focused agility. But then, just as he pushes off a branch, a sudden gust of wind slams into him. The branch beneath his foot is slick with frost.

He slips.

A blast of cold crashes into his side like a thunderwave, knocking him off the tree. The world blurs. He falls—down, down, faster, deeper.

Then—

Daiki jolts awake.

His hands are trembling, chilled to the bone. The silence of the frozen forest lingers in his ears like an echo.

---

Ashira sits before the old woman—Granny—with a wary resolve. The game she’s entered is no simple gamble. It’s three rounds, each one a test. And the stakes? Personal, intimate. Granny explains, with a cryptic smile, “You can raise the stakes by giving me a childhood memory, a promise, or a truth never spoken aloud.”

Ashira hesitates, then nods. “You can have them,” she says. “I have a lot of memories I’d like to get rid of.”

Ashira accepts the first challenge. “Alright.” She considers which skill to lean on first and chooses insight. “I think I’m pretty good at reading people.”

She offers Granny a promise. “Something trivial,” Granny insists, “but meaningful.”

Ashira smirks. “Fine. I promise to do something small for you in the future.”

She loses the first round. Unfazed, she moves on, and raises the stakes with a truth.

“I think… there are people living in my head.” She rummages through her bag and pulls out a notebook, flipping through pages she doesn’t recall writing. “Sometimes I black out. Wake up in different places. There’s always something new written.”

Granny listens, satisfied. 

For the final round, she offers a memory.

“When I was young,” Ashira begins, her voice tightening, “I had a dog. A stray. Sweet, loyal. My father—he said I had to kill it to prove myself.” Her voice falters. “I refused. But my sister did it anyway. He taught me there’s no choice. Either be ruthless, or suffer.” 

Granny leans back as the game ends. The enchanted table fades. Autumn leaves swirl in the air. “Clever little fox,” Granny murmurs, “You dance with fate like you were born to it. Because you were.”

Ashira stares, confused.

“Your mother came to us,” Granny says, “and made more than a pact. She bore a child of the fey. You are not of fey blood. You are fey, a changeling.”

“Something more,” Granny replies. “A creature of chaos and change. One day, you’ll wield magic greater than any mortal changeling. When that day comes, you may call on me again.”

As reality returns, Ashira notices a faint, glowing sigil on her wrist—visible only to her. Or to others like her.

---

Tachibana sits across from Granny Betty, the old woman sipping her tea with an unsettling smile. When his vision returns, he speaks quietly.

“I have a question,” he says. “When I give the tea back… can I leave something else behind?”

He pulls out the bottle of special honey and places it on the table. “I want to give this as a gift. No charge.”

Granny smiles. “Thank you, darling.”

The world fades.

When his sight returns again, he stands in a twisted version of the Shadowfell. The sky is a dark mask of violet and black, and the ruins of the Tachibana Estate loom in the distance—familiar, but broken. As he moves forward, he puts on his mask.

Inside the decayed halls, three doors await, each echoing with a voice—Raizen, Satsuma, Jin—all calling out for help.

“I’ll go for Jin,” Tachibana says.

He moves deeper, down into the ruins, until he finds a small dock surrounded by swirling black water. Jin hangs in the abyss, chained waist-deep in the dark liquid. Tachibana jumps into a nearby boat and rows toward him.

He tries to pull Jin up, but the restraints aren’t rope—they’re manacles. As panic rises in Jin’s voice, he sinks deeper.

“You left me behind,” Jin cries. “You chose them over me.”

“No,” Tachibana pleads. “I didn’t. I’m here now. I came back for you. I always remembered you.”

He tries to calm his brother, voice steady, urging him to breathe. Jin doesn’t listen.

Tachibana wraps his legs around the boat’s bench and leans over, reaching into the abyss. The cold is piercing. He dives fully in, moving hand over hand toward the manacles. Blind in the black water, he finds the chain and casts Chromatic Warp, willing it to weaken.

But the chain holds.

The abyss pulls harder. Darkness creeps in. Psychic pain slices through his mind.

Then, the world shatters like glass.

He is back. Seated once more in Granny Betty’s home. The teacup floats before him.

“Fate is a cruel thing, isn’t it?” Granny says. “You made your choice. I can’t tell you more. But you do have your punishments. Tests have consequences.”

Tachibana nods, silent.

---

Amber stands before Granny, her voice cold and sharp. “Of course you know this is emotional blackmail,” she says. “Because I don’t have a choice. If I want to save my friend, I’m obligated to give you all of my memories of my brother—and not be able to save him. Of course I’ll decline that. But let me think.”

She paces slightly, hands clenched. “Fury is my flame… but it’s my life. It drives me. I can’t give that up.”

Granny offers her a compromise: she may keep the ring around her neck—just not know where it’s from or what it means. It’s clear this deal isn’t without consequences. Amber’s voice tightens as she considers what’s being asked. “All the things I’ve written about him… those will be yours. Are you mad?”

She looks away, jaw tight. “The memories my friends have of my brother—they’ll keep them. I won’t hear them. I won’t understand them. I won’t even be able to read my own notes.”

There’s a pause. “So I’ll be left with a ring. Just a stupid ring. No idea when—if—I’ll ever get any of it back.”

Granny waits, calm. “You understand the deal.”

Amber’s eyes narrow. “You know you make an enemy of me when I accept this.”

“It’s an honest deal,” Granny says simply.

“No,” Amber snaps. “It’s not. And you know that. This is still emotional blackmail. I can just go to Evermere. I’ll check with every temple.”

She pauses again, thinking, calculating—her mind racing through everything she knows. Finally, her voice is firm. “Seems like I’m not going to accept this.”

A deep breath.

“I can’t revive Wolfgang,” she admits, voice cracking. “That… that can’t happen.”

The silence between them stretches. Then Amber turns. “This emotional blackmail… losing the thought of my brother… it’s everything I still have of him. If I can’t read what I’ve written, if no one can tell me anything, if I’m left only with this ring—not knowing when or if I’ll get anything back—it’s nothing.”

She looks at Granny one last time. “And I have my contract with my master. He’s dead. But I’ll pay my debt to him without your help. Merci bien, madame. I will not go into this blackmail of yours.”

Gently, Amber picks up the little vulture, her companion. She walks toward the door.

Just before leaving, she turns. “You’ve made an enemy of me.”

Granny starts to speak. “I’m sorry you feel that—”

But Amber doesn’t let her finish. She’s already gone.

---

Outside, the group is waiting for Amber.

Amber tries to push through the emotion. “I’ll make sure… she was so—”
“She was nice,” Ashira offers, but Amber shakes her head.
“No, she wasn’t. She was emotionally blackmailing me. It wasn’t right. I’m sorry. I’ll figure out another way to resurrect Wolfgang. I’ll put everything else on hold. I’ll travel anywhere. In Evermere they won’t help unless the person’s very important. I don’t know who would help us, but we have to try.”

 Ashira glances around and reads the room. “I see Masaki and Daiki aren’t as happy about all this as I am.”
Daiki nods. “I’m not sad, really. I just… I still have to grow.”
Ashira exhales. “Definitely not excited. Well—you know everything now.”

Masaki appears pensive. Ashira studies him. “You’re brooding on something. What did you learn?”
Masaki responds, “One of my siblings followed me here.”
Ashira brightens. “Oh! Can we meet him?”
Masaki shrugs. “Or her. We’ll see.”

“Are you bringing me home?” the boy asks quietly.
“Of course,” Amber replies. “Where do you live?”
“Kowloon.”

Masaki glances over. “You should message your dad. His mother is dead.”
Dink frowns. “Is my mother gone?”
Ashira doesn’t respond right away. She’s seen the body. She leans down, gently.
Amber sobers. “She was dead when we arrived. Long gone, from what we saw. I’m sorry. But we can still take you home. Maybe your father can take you in.”

Dink says softly, “We’re living with another family.”
Amber adds, “Yeah, we can go to your other family.”
Ashira looks at the child. “Maybe it’s better you don’t know your father. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. If he abandoned you… that’s not nice.”

Dink whispers, “Please bring me home.”
Amber nods. “We’ll bring you home. Of course.”
Masaki answers, “It’s a village near Edmure.”
Daiki confirms, “Yes, it is.”

Amber gently sets Wolfgang down, then approaches the boy and crouches. She hugs him quietly. The group falls into silence, sharing the weight of loss.