Session 15 — 19 April 2026
Ruben breaks through the surface of the water, drawing in a breath as he emerges. His gaze immediately shifts towards the island in the distance. The vegetation there is wrong—burned away, cleared in unnatural patterns. Even from here, he can still see faint, glowing traces of runes, their afterglow flickering as they slowly fade. At the center of it all, resting atop a cut tree stump, lies a closed book. The book isn’t floating anymore. It just sits there.
Ruben scans the area, wary. His thoughts race—Did someone put it there? What is this book doing here? Is this the source of anything? Is this a result of what we did under water? What is it?
From the shore, Lana’s voice carries to him through their mental link. She reminds him of what she saw beneath the surface—blue streaks rising, a book appearing. The connection clicks into place. This must be the same book.
Ruben considers using magic to retrieve it, but this scene doesn’t quite match what Lana described. Instead, he shifts focus, stepping closer to the fading runes. With his Comprehend languages spell still active, he begins tracing them, reading quickly before they disappear entirely.
Behind him, the others begin to surface.
Daiki crawls onto the shore on all fours, shakes himself dry, then takes flight again, wings beating lightly. Kroak, meanwhile, stays below the surface, lingering longer than the rest. They move carefully through the submerged cavern, studying what remains. The carved runes along the floor and walls are already deteriorating, burning away as the last traces of magic dissipate. Kroak watches them closely, committing as many as possible to memory before they vanish.
They search further, probing for hidden spaces, until they find a small, concealed cavern. Inside, a rare black moss clings to the stone. Kroak gathers what they can, though it proves delicate—most of it shrivels away at the slightest disturbance. Still, after careful effort, they manage to retrieve a small fragment before finally returning to the surface.
By then, the others have regrouped.
Lana hauls herself onto the island, collapsing briefly onto the ground. “Oh god this shit was weird,” she mutters, catching her breath. She sits up, pulls off her boots, and dumps them out—water and mud spilling free—before rebraiding her hair and wiping her eyes.
“Interesting action in the water, Lana. What did you do?” asks Ruben.
Lana barely has time to respond before Daiki jumps in enthusiastically. “Yeah, didn’t you see? It was amazing! Lana was swimming there and all the black goo disappeared. So I thought she had something with her, but then it was like the holy water, you know? Whatever Sally was afraid of. It all made sense, I don’t know.”
“It’s really cool,” Ruben replies.
“So is the book still here?” Daiki asks, already flying toward it. “Can I touch it?”
Daiki inspects the book, hovering above it. But his excitement quickly fades. “What? It’s a totally different book than before. It had a lot of inscriptions and… I don’t know, why is it so wet? What did you do, Ruben? Did you move time quickly? You should really learn to control your magic.”
Ruben sighs. “Well, I’m sorry. I just thought I’d start with deciphering the runes before they disappear. And I thought the book would come later. Do you have a moment so I can finish deciphering instead of everyone talking to me?”
“Oh, sorry, sorry,” Daiki says quickly, backing off.
Ruben returns to the runes, tracing their patterns. As he studies them, a structure begins to emerge. Certain symbols repeat—most notably, a rune of corruption. Illusionary markings intertwine with others, forming a complex network. He recognizes it for what it is: a conduit. A carefully constructed runic circle, designed to channel power into the environment. Whatever happened here was deliberate—someone used this place to impose something onto the land.
Nearby, Lana watches, then turns to Daiki. “Maybe it’s a good idea that you… I don’t know, you are very good at drawing, right? Maybe you can copy the different runes that we see so we have some evidence to show later.”
“Sure, do you have a paper and pen?”
Lana hands over parchment and her calligrapher’s supplies. Daiki sets to work, carefully transcribing the runes.
Meanwhile, Ruben approaches the book. He studies it first without touching it. The cover is warped, soaked through, covered in moss. It looks old—very old. Slowly, he opens it.
Water seeps from the pages as they part. Much of the text is illegible, consumed by time and decay. What remains is chaotic—cryptic runes, strange sketches, fragmented notes. Some drawings stand out: frogs, rendered in detail. Familiar locations. Scenes they have witnessed themselves. Events from the campus.
And then—something else.
References to something yet to come. Something tied to the Biblioplex.
Lana leans in beside him, trying to follow along, but without the same magical understanding, the meaning slips through her grasp. She recognizes the places, the references—but not the full picture.
Ruben flips further, searching for answers and mumbles: “Is there any signature? A name? And… is there something that triggered all of this?”
But wherever a name might have been, it’s gone. The moss has consumed all identifying parts entirely, erasing any trace of authorship.
Still, one thing becomes clear: this journal wasn’t written recently. The events inside—past and future alike—were recorded long ago.
Ruben begins taking notes, carefully documenting everything. He speaks as he works, thinking aloud about preserving the book. “We need to keep this intact. Maybe change the environment, dry it carefully… not damage it further. I need some cold and dehumidified air.”
Daiki finishes copying the runes and hands them over. Then, forming a small shape of a silver dragon between his hands, he exhales a controlled stream of cold air—not directly onto the book, but beside it, helping to dry it gently together with Ruben flapping his wings.
Eventually, Kroak resurfaces, emerging from the now-clear water. The cavern has returned to its natural state—the corruption gone, the runes almost entirely faded. They share what they found below—the disappearing runes, the hidden cavern, the strange black moss.
The group exchanges information, comparing notes and findings. The book will be stored in the Bag of holding to preserve its current condition. The tension begins to ease, replaced by a growing sense of purpose.
They still have work to do.
“Okay,” Daiki says eventually, clapping his hands together. “So what do we have to do here? We have the book, we have the runes… I have this bucket over there with some herbs for Professor Lang, with grass—I don’t know if that’s the correct one. Kroak has to check them.”
“It’s not,” Kroak confirms.
“Well,” Ruben says, “I think we have to decide how we go back, right?”
“Let’s not go the same route with that awful green thing that almost killed us, please,” Lana adds.
Daiki hums, then perks up. “Flowers. I know flowers. Let’s go look for flowers, the ones that professor Lang wants.”
He takes off again, flying over the swamp. It doesn’t take long before he finds one—a beautiful paradise flower, perched high in a tree.
There’s just one problem.
“Snakes,” he mutters.
The tree is covered in them—coiled around branches, hanging down like living vines.
“Okay… okie dokie.”
He marks the location and moves on, eventually spotting a strange yellow cactus growing in a patch of quicksand.
When he returns, the others have rested.
“Okay,” he announces. “I hope you’ve watched it all very well. Are you ready to go for some collecting? Two problems. One: the flower is in a tree with snakes. And the cactus is in quicksand. Yay.”
Ruben considers. “The cactus should be easy for us, flying, right?”
“I don’t know. How will you grab something that is pointy and needly and ouchy?”
They work it out together. Kroak flies out with a rope, looping it around the cactus while Lana pulls from shore.
“Gently, gently,” Kroak instructs.
Lana strains. “Did I pull it loose? Is it—did it work?”
“Thanks for your help,” Kroak says dryly as they lift it free, without any help from the rope. “Yeah, we got it.”
The group regathers near the strange tree where snakes coil around a delicate flower, the air tense with anticipation. All eyes turn towards Ruben as he considers his approach.
Ruben steps forward, already forming a plan. With a flicker of magic, a secretary bird appears, the natural enemy of snakes—still, but convincing enough—and with another spell, he layers in sound: the sharp, aggressive cry of a hunting predator. At the same time, he unleashes a psychic strike, ensuring at least one snake dies instantly. The illusion is meant to frighten the rest into scattering.
The effect is partially successful. Several snakes recoil as one, then two, then three of them collapse lifelessly. For a moment, the remaining snakes hesitate—but the illusion doesn’t move, and soon enough, they begin to settle again, their initial fear fading.
Still, the snakes aren’t stopping him. Carefully, he conjures a spectral hand and reaches toward the flower. The invisible force grasps it, but he quickly realizes it won’t come free easily. “The flower is attached to the tree quite a bit,” he explains. “I need some more force to pull it away.”
Daiki tilts his head. “Oh, you mean power?”
Kroak steps forward instead. “Oh, don’t worry. I have a special knife for cutting flowers and such. I’ll come over.”
Ruben takes it carefully. With precise movements of his Mage hand, he slices through the stem, guiding the flower so it doesn’t drop. The cut is clean and controlled, guided by his dissection practice. Using his magic, he steadies it and lowers it gently.
After further inspection, the group deduces that the snakes are highly venomous. With practiced ease, Kroak extracts what venom they can, managing to gather a small vial. “That makes it easy to add to my collection,” they say, satisfied.
Daiki, however, lingers a moment longer near the tree. As the group prepares to leave, he glances back at the remaining snakes. “Sorry, snakes. We didn’t want to hurt you all. Bye,” he says softly before flying off.
With the flower secured, attention turns to the final ingredient: a special kind of reed, flexible near the root and growing underwater.
“Kroak, I think it is your cup of tea,” Ruben suggests.
“Yeah, yeah, I will definitely search for them,” Kroak replies, already scanning the marsh. Ruben joins in above the water, helping identify the correct reeds among many similar ones.
After some searching, Kroak finds them—but there’s a problem. The best cluster grows right beside a crocodile resting in the water.
Lana watches carefully, stepping behind them. She prepares herself. If anything goes wrong, she’s ready to pull Kroak away.
Kroak edges toward the water, lowering themselves onto their stomach and reaching in to cut the roots. It’s dangerously close—just a couple of feet from the crocodile’s jaws.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lana presses into Kroak’s mind.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”
“…Okay. I will stand behind you and pull you away.”
Meanwhile, Daiki frowns, watching the situation unfold. “I don’t know… this can’t end well.” Then, suddenly, he moves. He flies directly towards the crocodile’s face, hovering just out of reach, trying to distract it.
The crocodile’s attention shifts instantly. It watches Daiki, snapping suddenly—but Daiki darts away just in time.
At the same moment, Kroak works quickly, cutting through the reeds and gathering what they need.
“Kroak, you hurry!” Lana urges.
“I’ll go back by myself,” Kroak replies, beginning to retreat.
Lana grabs for them—but misjudges the pull. Instead of dragging Kroak free, she yanks their shoes clean off, stumbling backward with them in hand.
Kroak, now barefoot and half-submerged, scrambles out of the water on their own.
Above them, Daiki lands boldly on the crocodile’s head, settling between its eyes. “I want to sit on him and pet him,” he says.
The creature freezes, confused, as Daiki gently pats it. “I think I understand why you call them swamp cats. I think they’re cute. Can we take them home?”
“They’re pretty cute… ah, too big to take home,” Kroak replies.
Eventually, Daiki pushes off and flies away just as the crocodile snaps again, missing him.
With all three ingredients finally gathered, the group begins to withdraw.
From above, Ruben watches everything unfold, hovering at a safe distance. His thoughts race. Why are these people so suicidal? Is this really worth dying for? Would I do this for them? Of course I would not do this… would this make me a good friend?
Then something catches his eye.
“Guys… when you stop playing, there’s a crocodile approaching,” he warns, rising higher.
But this one is different. It moves deliberately, then slips into hiding among the trees.
Ruben narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure if we should stay here any longer. Maybe something sinister is coming on.”
The others agree—it’s time to leave.
As they head back towards the boat, Ruben hesitates. “Should I maybe stay here and see what’s coming… and then come after you?”
“No, no, no, come,” Daiki insists—then pauses. “Wait. I got an idea.”
He flies up to Ruben. “Is it okay if I touch your feathers?”
Ruben smirks slightly. “Well… in appropriate places, yes.”
Daiki traces glowing patterns along Ruben’s wings, and slowly, Ruben fades from sight. “You are now invisible for one hour. Don’t lose us.”
“Cool. Can you please take a torch with you so it’s easier to find you?” Ruben replies.
The group departs, leaving Ruben alone.
Though he tries to remain composed, fear creeps in. Lana senses it faintly but can’t quite reach him anymore. “Good luck, Ruben,” she says before boarding the boat.
Hidden among the trees, Ruben watches.
And then he sees it.
A massive crocodile emerges from the north—and atop it rides a creature he knows all too well. A blue slaad.
Ruben’s breath tightens. He recognizes it instantly, not from sight alone, but from study—every detail, every instinct, every danger. The creature radiates something primal, something deeply unsettling.
It dismounts, moving through the area, inspecting the ground, the trees, the damage left behind. It doesn’t seem highly intelligent, but it is more aware and curious than Ruben expects from a slaad. It rummages through the area, searching.
Ruben’s heart pounds in his throat. That’s enough.
Without hesitation, he turns and flies, invisible but not absolutely silent. The creature pauses briefly, glancing in his direction—but then returns to its inspection.
Ruben flees without waiting, quickly finding the boat again, the fear still gripping him as he returns to the group—now with knowledge they do not yet share.
Daiki paces anxiously, words tumbling over each other as he tries to reassure himself. He insists that at least he knows Ruben is still alive—he can feel that his magic is still working—but the thought lingers that Ruben might be in danger. “He is such a brave owlin, don’t you think so?” he says, looking around for agreement, though the reassurance he seeks doesn’t quite come.
Kroak barely engages with the conversation. They are far more interested in the environment, leaning over the edge of the boat as it drifts through the swamp. Their attention is fixed on the plants along the water’s edge; every so often, they stretch out an arm to push reeds aside, peering curiously at what lies behind them. They occasionally ask for the boat to slow so they can gather ingredients, completely absorbed in their task.
When the boat pauses again for Kroak to collect supplies, Ruben speaks up from nowhere, calm but firm. He suggests that Kroak should focus less on gathering and more on navigation, pointing out that their safety—especially Lana’s—depends on someone keeping track of where they are going. He proposes that they divide responsibilities, and since Kroak is the swamp expert, perhaps they should take on that role.
Kroak considers this and asks the obvious question: “Are we going anywhere specific?”
“I would like to get out of this swamp,” Ruben replies dryly.
The group quickly realizes that no one truly knows where they are. Kroak attempts to determine their position in the bayou but ends up navigating mostly by instinct, steering toward anything that looks remotely useful or interesting.
Lana, increasingly uncomfortable, states plainly that she wants to return to Widdershins Hall. This environment does not suit her at all. Then she turns to Ruben, asking what he saw while scouting.
Ruben explains: a strange, blue slaad creature riding a giant swamp crocodile. It had been rummaging around, possibly following their tracks. He admits it was both fascinating to see the long claws and terrifying at the same time, and he chose not to risk getting closer. Daiki reacts with a mix of awe and confusion, mishearing and misunderstanding parts of the description, as he tries to make sense of the creature Ruben describes.
“Do you think prof. Lang taught us about slaadi because she knew there was one here?”, Daiki asks.
Lana quickly cuts that off. “People, please.” She redirects the discussion back to the important detail—the creature was tracking them. That, more than anything, unsettles her.
Ruben shrugs it off slightly, pointing out that the group made no effort to cover their tracks. Lana counters that in a swamp, nature usually reclaims everything quickly, especially under the influence of the bloom. Still, the idea that something intelligent might be following them lingers.
She then turns to Ruben more sincerely, thanking him for staying behind to scout and admiring his courage. She admits she feels out of her depth, unable to contribute much beyond mishaps—losing shoes, slipping ropes, falling into quicksand. Ruben responds pragmatically, suggesting that if she survives this, she might still consider talking to a student counselor about her insecurities.
That lands poorly.
Lana stiffens. She explains, carefully but firmly, that sharing her feelings with friends is not an invitation for professional intervention. “I entrust you with feelings because I appreciate you guys as being my friend.” She does not need a counselor—she needs understanding.
Ruben interjects, clarifying that it just can be too much and he only meant to remove any barriers she might feel. But the damage is done. Lana withdraws, her tone cooling. She reflects on how, back home, she was always seen as too soft or too tough—never quite right. With a quiet decision, she stops sharing altogether and turns her focus back to practical matters, steering the boat in silence.
Kroak gently adds, “I also think of you as my friend,” but Lana does not re-engage. She continues working, pushing forward absentmindedly, retreating into action rather than conversation.
The journey continues with growing unease. Daiki asks about the mysterious book Kroak carries, but the discussion is brief and inconclusive. He brushes it off, claiming they survived the swamp adventure, though Lana immediately reminds him they are not safe yet. The threat of the strange creature still looms in her mind.
Daiki scans the surroundings and, seeing nothing unusual, declares confidently that everything is fine. He points out ordinary swamp creatures, reassuring himself more than anyone else. Kroak, however, offers a more grounded perspective: “The swamp is safe—mostly. Because sometimes it’s not.”
Determined to regain their bearings, Kroak flies above the trees to get a better view. Unfortunately, even from above, navigation proves difficult. The swamp stretches endlessly, disorienting and ever-changing. Hours pass. The dense forest gives way to darkness as night falls, and the group finds themselves still drifting, guided by uncertain instincts.
They light the Strixhaven pendants like headlights, cutting through the darkness as best they can. Ruben calculates how long the journey should take under ideal conditions, realizing they are taking far longer than expected. His confidence in Kroak’s navigation begins to waver, and he eventually flies up himself to look for landmarks—but finds none.
Frustration builds. Even Lana, drawing on past experience navigating in darkness, struggles to find a clear path. Still, through a combination of instinct, glimpses from above, and sheer persistence, they eventually spot a faint light in the distance. They steer toward it, making careful adjustments, turn after turn, until they finally find their way back.
By the time they return to Widdershins Hall, it is deep into the night.
Kroak admires the swamp even now, asking, “Isn’t that pretty? Don’t you love the swamps?”
Ruben exhales, relieved. It was an experience he would not have wanted to miss—but he is equally glad to be back in familiar territory.
Their attention shifts to the mysterious journal they carry. Ruben worries about its safety, suggesting they keep storing it in a Bag of Holding—or even better, inside a lead-lined container to prevent it from being tracked. However, they have no such container readily available, and with transportation unavailable at this hour, they must decide where to rest.
Ruben proposes the dissection lab. It may be unsettling, but it is secure, and he believes he can rest there safely. Daiki is immediately uncomfortable with the idea, but Kroak sides with Ruben, prioritizing safety and unity. Eventually, Lana reluctantly agrees.
They settle into the lab, which, despite its purpose, is more natural and comfortable than expected. Moss, wood, and organic structures replace sterile surfaces. Daiki quickly curls up on a soft patch of moss, sleeping almost instantly, like a small dragon with wings folded neatly around him.
Before sleeping, Ruben sets up a protective measure—a silver wire arranged as an alarm against intrusion. It is not something he usually does in their dorm, but here, caution feels necessary.
The night is filled with unfamiliar sounds—rustling creatures, distant movements, and the subtle reminders that not everything in the lab is entirely still. Yet, despite it all, they manage to rest.
By morning, they wake restored and make their way back toward the central campus. The air is warm, the signs of approaching summer evident. But as they near the Archway Commons, something feels wrong. A crowd has gathered.
Students are shouting and protesting, afraid. Rumours ripple through the air—one student dead, four more missing. The tension is palpable, fear spreading through the student body.
The group realizes, with a jolt, that they are likely the ones being counted among the missing.
As they step forward, Lana is the first to move towards the crowd, her lingering weariness replaced by urgency. She raises her voice, cutting through the noise.
“We are still alive.”
Daiki, inspired, immediately adds with dramatic flair, “The heroes of Strixhaven have woken up!”