A Life for a Life

In the far distance, a massive creature looms. Its wings are black, tattered, and half-rotted, with necrotic skin stretched between them. Two great horns curl from its skull, and where its face should be yawns only a void, sucking in tendrils of darkness. From deep within its body glows a red, hellish light.

Between the party and this monstrosity, about a hundred feet away, floats a small orb of pale radiance. Huliavar knows it is a soul—Wolfgang’s soul. The orb pulses faintly, its glow just enough to cut the surrounding dark. It is large, unnaturally so, and despite appearing close, its size betrays its true distance.

The group braces themselves.

Daiki is the first to move. Instinctively, he dashes forward with supernatural speed, closing the distance to the glowing orb. As he reaches it, he sees it clearly: a sphere of pure white light streaked with thin veins of shadow. He calls back, half-desperate, “Okay, okay, I have to protect Wolfgang. What do I do now?” With a sweep of his hands, he conjures a thick fog cloud between the soul and the pursuing creature, hoping to buy them time.

Huliavar extends his hand, eyes glowing faintly as he invokes his god. Invisible force grips the orb, pulling it through Daiki. He shudders as cold seeps through his body, the soul passing partly within him before sliding onward, thirty feet closer to Huliavar.

Amber breaks into a run, flanking the glowing sphere. She plants herself like a barrier, shielding the soul from the looming horror. Flames erupt around her as she bellows, “Let’s do this!” Rage surges through her veins.

Masaki charges forward as well, his blade song rising into the air. At first it is only his voice, but soon Ashira’s spectral notes join him, and then an entire phantom war band swells around him in harmony. The music strengthens his stride, carrying him further and faster.

Ash follows, weaving through the darkness toward the soul, her eyes fixed on the glowing orb too. She pushes herself harder, keeping both Masaki and the orb in her sight.

The monstrous figure bursts from the fog cloud. Enormous, far larger than before, it beats its wings and soars closer. Its maw opens, and black tendrils lash out, trying to drag the orb toward itself. Then, with a psychic pulse, it lashes at Daiki and Masaki’s minds. Both feel its presence clawing at their thoughts—but they resist, shoving the intrusion away.

Daiki reacts instantly, grasping for the orb. This time, his hands close around it. Solid. Real. With a burst of speed, he races back toward Huliavar, shouting, “Okay, I think I’ve got it! What’s next?” He holds the sphere out like a sacred burden.

Huliavar lifts his hand, hovering it just above Wolfgang’s soul. Light and shadow twist between the two forms—thin streams of energy flow from the orb into Huliavar’s chest, while a mirrored stream pours back into Wolfgang. For a moment, their souls intermingle.

The creature surges forward again, its vast shape blotting out the faint light. Masaki plants himself before it, his war song echoing defiantly. He chants, blade in hand, like a one-man army.

Amber hurls a javelin, striking the beast. Lightning crackles along its hide, though it resists more than she hoped. She snarls and retreats, forcing distance between herself and the abomination.

The monster retaliates, its terrible presence bearing down on Masaki. He feels his very soul being sucked toward its maw, but he digs in, roaring back with sheer strength of will.

Ash unleashes a spray of spectral light, colors bursting across the battlefield—yellow lightning, indigo beams—but the creature shrugs off most of the magic, burning one of its own strange resistances to avoid being bound.

The horror beats its wings again, soaring over Masaki. He slashes upward, but his blade misses. The monster dives, pulling at both Huliavar and the orb. Huliavar feels himself dragged forward, soul and sphere alike, twenty feet closer to the waiting void.

The Hallowed Soul surges forward, twenty feet closer to the adventurers. Its claws twitch with hungry intent. The monstrosity lashes out—one claw toward Masaki, one toward Ashira.

“Oh, he’ll regret that,” Masaki says, unfazed, as the claw misses him. The second strike lands on Ashira.

“It hits so hard,” Ashira groans, reeling as the slashing blow cuts and psychic pain rattles her mind.

Ashira staggers, already weakened. Then, before her eyes, the Hallowed Soul manifests something new—a translucent beak, jagged and otherworldly, the Beak of the Abyss. It snaps at her.

“Goddammit,” she mutters, as it lands true. The necrotic energy drains her further. Darkness claws at her vision, but she steadies herself, forcing it away.

Daiki watches, horrified. Skidding to Ashira’s side, he presses a hand against her and channels healing light. Ashira exhales in relief. “Thank you.”

The creature hovers fifteen feet above, its grotesque form blotting the air. Daiki plants himself beneath it, fists clenched. “Okay, I’m going to try to punch him out of the sky. Are you ready for that?” 

But the Hallowed Soul turns its abyssal maw toward him, trying to feed on his fear. Daiki resists, his will unbroken, but… he gets swallowed by the Hallowed Soul. 

Now Huliavar steps forward. Wolfgang’s soul writhes within him, struggling against the monstrosity’s pull. Energy surges—blue light curling like a tsunami—before snapping back into his own form. A second soul melt completes, leaving him still clutching the captured soul. He tries to flee, dragging it away, but the monster’s grip holds him fast, he can’t move further away with the soul.

“I call out the horrors of the far realm,” Huliavar intones. Shadows coil and a 20-foot sphere of darkness blossoms around the Hallowed Soul. Whispers, slurping noises, alien mutters fill the void.

The monstrosity snarls, unaffected by blindness, but wracked nonetheless by cold from beyond. It resists, but still shudders.

From the ground, Amber shouts toward Huliavar: “How long do you need to get this soul into safety?”
“Try saying that again—and it will be done,” comes the strained reply.

“I can make sure he’s busy until then.” Amber thinks to herself. She charges forward, flame sparking in her hands. She hurls it upward, crying, “Give Daiki back, you stupid thing!” The fire slams into the Hallowed Soul—a critical strike. Flames burst, though resistance dampens the full force.

Meanwhile, Masaki’s eyes gleam with determination. In a flash of arcane light, he reappears atop the creature’s horned head, clutching for balance. Energy builds within him, and he casts Anti Magic Field. The effect is catastrophic. The horn beneath him vanishes. The entire body of the Hallowed Soul flickers out where the field touches, and Masaki plunges through emptiness—colliding with Daiki, who is expelled from the creature’s stomach in the process. They both crash to the ground, bruised but alive.

Ashira watches, baffled, she doesn’t understand what just happened. Instead, she raises a hand. A shimmering Wall of Force erupts between the monstrosity and Huliavar, blocking its path. Then her form radiates with brilliance, her Unbreakable Majesty invoked. 

The Hallowed Soul rages. It slams against the invisible wall, confused, before deciding to take to the skies. Wings beat violently as it soars fifty feet upward (firstly bumping his ‘head’ on the arched Wall of Force), out of the sphere of darkness.

Daiki glances at Masaki, then throws his arms around him. “Thank you,” he says simply. Looking skyward, he channels lightning, hurling a bolt into the beast. The bolt cracks against it, searing through the air, though the creature resists much of it.

Amber steels herself as the monster’s maw turns toward her, but she pushes down the dread. “Nope,” she spits. 

ll around, chaos mounts. The Hallowed Soul rises higher, straining against the walls and wards, battered by spell and strike. Yet the adventurers stand together—Daiki, Amber, Masaki, Ashira, and Huliavar—each refusing to yield as the battle rages on. Huliavar performs the last soul melt… and brings everybody back to the material plane. 

---

The group blinks awake and finds themselves back in the temple. Around them, everyone stirs on the floor, opening their eyes—everyone except Huliavar. He looks pale, and suddenly collapses onto the ground.

Daiki sees him fall. He remembers the words spoken before they entered the dream state—a life for a life. Moving quickly, he kneels beside Huliavar, places him into a resting position, and murmurs softly, “Thank you for helping.”

Amber frowns, not sure she understood what had been meant Huliavar performing the soul melt. She wonders if the curse might still linger somewhere inside Huliavar. Kneeling, she places a hand on Huliavar’s chest, calling on her healing gift. But the warmth doesn’t take; the energy fades without effect. Her concern deepens. She checks more carefully, feeling for his heartbeat—and finds nothing. “He’s not alive anymore,” she whispers.

Amber turns sharply to the altar, where the body of Wolfgang lies. The moment her eyes find him, his own open. Relief floods her, and she hurries forward, quickening her pace until she can throw her arms around him in an uncharacteristic, desperate hug.

Wolfgang, disoriented, blinks around. “What happened? The dragon—Ashira—are we safe?”

Amber holds him firmly. “We are safe. We came and got you back. We brought your soul back from that false place. You’re alive!”

Masaki can only stand in silence, overwhelmed by the sight of Wolfgang alive again and Huliavar’s body lying still. Finally, he manages, “Welcome back, Wolfgang.”

Wolfgang sits up slowly, sore and unsteady. The last thing he recalls is the purplish-red cone of poisonous fire that swept over him in battle with the dragon. After that—only darkness. “What did you just do for me?” he asks, bewildered.

Masaki answers steadily, “We only did what you would have done for us.”

Ashira adds, “We brought you back, Wolfie. At any cost.”

Masaki continues, “No dark magic. Huliavar sacrificed himself for you. I don’t quite understand how or why, but he helped us bring your soul back into your body.”

Wolfgang shakes his head, trying to absorb it. “Why me? I don’t even know this person…”

Masaki replies quietly, “He seemed… willing.”

At that moment, a woman enters through a side door, dressed in a beautiful gown that marks her as a high priestess of the temple. “Huliavar was tired,” she says softly. “He dreamt about you. He told me he would test you, and then bring you back at the cost of himself. He believed you were worthy.” She kneels beside Huliavar’s body, placing two coins on his eyes. “He planned this long ago.”

Wolfgang bows his head. “I am extremely grateful—to him, to the Lady of Luck, and to all of you.” He looks around the group, his voice breaking. “Thank you.”

Daiki, still unsettled, murmurs, “It’s noble… but isn’t it strange? To give your life for someone you don’t know?”

The priestess answers, “He was a man of riddles, a man of contradictions.”

The air in the temple is heavy. At last Wolfgang says, “Could we… leave this cold place? Perhaps arrange a funeral fitting for this martyr, and then talk somewhere warmer. With tea.”

Together, they lift Huliavar’s body onto the temple slab. Wolfgang tries to rise from the altar but falters, his legs weak. Amber catches him before he falls, supporting him so he can stand with dignity.

When the priestess thanks them for their offerings and assures them that Huliavar will be placed on the Obsidian Path for eight days before being laid to rest, Ashira promises, “We’ll honor him properly—with song. He will be immortalized.”

Outside the temple, Wolfgang leans on Amber, his body frail but his spirit held up by the presence of his companions. Daiki pats his head gently. “I’m happy you’re back. We would have lost count without you. Now we can count again.”

Wolfgang smiles faintly. “It’s great to be among friends.”

The group agrees they should inform Lord Wise quickly, before word spreads that Wolfgang has died. The thought of his parents hearing false news is too much for Wolfgang to bear. He nods wearily. “It’s time for proper tea. Let’s go to Lord Wise.”

Amber steps into the street, whistling loudly until a carriage halts. She helps Wolfgang inside, steadying him with an arm under his wing. The others climb in after, except for Daiki, who prefers to run. With a final glance back at the temple where Huliavar rests, Amber instructs the driver: “To Lord Wise’s manor, please.”

She throws up a goldpiece, paying the driver in advance. Masaki takes a seat next to the driver. 

The driver tips his hat. “Thank you. I’ll get there as quickly as I can.”

Amber nods firmly. “Please take the road with fewer bumps. We have somebody recovering. Make it a calm but fast ride, could you possibly do that?”

“Of course, I will do my utmost best,” the driver promises.

Amber leans forward. “I did not catch your name, sir. What is it?”

“The name is Jarno,” he replies.

“Giorno? Okay. Merci, Giorno, merci.”

“Jarno,” he corrects politely, before cracking the reins. Amber sits next to Wolfgang inside the carriage. The carriage lurches forward, surprisingly calm for the speed. 

Outside, Masaki apologizes for Amber’s brashness in halting the driver in the street. Jarno only smiles. “She was very clear with what she wanted. A lovely woman.” 

Wolfgang barely lasts a minute before sleep overtakes him. He slumps sideways, head landing on Amber’s shoulder. 

Meanwhile, Daiki keeps his focus and runs toward Lord Wise’s estate, determined not to be distracted.

When the carriage finally pulls up, Jarno opens the door with a courteous bow. “I hope the ride was to your liking.”

“Oui, monsieur,” Amber replies, stepping down and helping Wolfgang. She leads the group to the door and knocks.

After a delay, the butler cracks the door. “I’m sorry. The master does not want to be disturbed today.”

Amber straightens her back. “I think he will want to be disturbed about this. This is Count Wolfgang Rüppelshammer, back from the dead. I think you want to receive him.”

The butler peers past her, sees Wolfgang, and stiffens. “Yes. Please, come in.”

They are led into the main hall. Amber settles Wolfgang into a cozy chair by the fire, conjures a small flame, and lights it. Wolfgang stares into the blaze, his mind wandering elsewhere—hollow, distant, not entirely present.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echo down the corridor. Lord Wise himself rounds the corner, eyes wide. “My young Lord Wolfgang! I did not expect—” He breaks off, voice thick. “I had two of your friends come here and tell me you had died.”

Ashira steps forward, lyre slung across her shoulder. “Yes, he had died. And I told you I would bring him back, right? That’s why we made the song. And we did. Because of you, he’s back.”

Amber inclines her head apologetically. “Apparently these two have told you a lot of things that were probably very confusing. My apologies for that.”

Lord Wise can barely contain his joy. “I am so happy you are alive.”

Wolfgang, still pale and weakened, forces a smile. “I’m so grateful for everything. These are amazing people. So much has happened in so little time. It’s intense.”

Amber clears her throat. “Monsieur, would you like to hear the story in full? Chronologically, so you may understand without contradiction?”

“Yes,” Lord Wise says immediately. “Very much so.” He sits, gesturing for them to begin.

Amber recounts their journey: the goblins in the cave, the abyssal wyrmling, Wolfgang’s death under the breath weapon, their desperate escape. Her voice falters when speaking of carrying Wolfgang’s body, but she presses on. She tells of the hag who could not revive him, of the temple of the Lady of Luck, and the offerings each gave—Ashira’s song, Daiki’s acorns, Masaki’s scroll, her own contract with Wolfgang. She leaves some details vague, but ends firmly: Wolfgang was restored, though at the cost of Huliavar.

As she speaks, Daiki arrives at the estate and slips into the room, catching the tail end of her story. Tea is served. Wise listens intently, sipping something stronger. “I am so happy this has a good ending. I am saddened for Huliavar, but… happy for Wolfgang.”

Talk turns to sending word to Wolfgang’s parents. Wise vows to send a message through the city’s mages to forestall the carrier pigeon already en route. Daiki objects—“Can’t you send a quicker bird to kill the message?”—but Amber patiently explains the nature of trained pigeons and Wise assures them he will see it managed.

They discuss the goblin threat, agreeing it is likely eliminated now that the wyrmling is slain. Plans are made to meet Talos the next morning for rewards, and they also have to go to the Mage Guard Keep to claim their victory. 

Wise thanks them again, clearly moved. “I am glad you are all safe. I will see you tomorrow morning.”

James, the butler, escorts them out. Amber steadies Wolfgang as he rises, the group stepping into the evening air.