Session 60

Red Crystal Memories

The stone pillars stood like silent sentinels, holding the roof of the empty hall where spirit walkers once gathered to learn their grim craft. The cold walls swallowed their words as Muvara, Yeivesa, and Xanthos huddled close, the tension between them thick as fog.

“She’s not coming, Muvara. It’s time we cut our losses,” Yeivesa growled, fingers dragging harshly across his scalp as if he could scrub away the frustration seething beneath.

“She’ll come,” Muvara said, her voice small, her stance hunched like a child awaiting punishment.

Yeivesa’s eyes flashed angrily, his voice cutting through the air like a honed blade. “By all the Divine, what madness took hold of you when you threw yourself before the world at that accursed circus? Now we see this rotten fruit borne, and we’re left to choke on its bitter taste. We have walked the path together for years, Muvara, long and weary years. Why now do you curse me with this deviation?”

“She is the blood, and I am the spirit,” Muvara murmured, her head bowed now, eyes lost in some distant memory. “She fought so fiercely to save those two. And we… we stood by, doing nothing. If that’s what we are, then what exactly are we saving?”

Yeivesa’s glare could have split stone. “And you’ll be dead for it, along with the rest of us! Your infatuation has poisoned your mind and thrown us all into this crucible, teetering on the edge of disaster. We’re meant to stand by and watch while you chase after some fool’s dream?”

Muvara lifted her gaze, eyes locking with Yeivesa’s. “I stand by my actions, Yeivesa,” she said, voice steady as stone. With that, she turned and walked out, the heavy door groaning shut behind her.

The tension in the room seemed to ease, the air no longer crackling with Yeivesa’s anger. He sighed, the fury slipping from his features like water draining from a cracked cup. Xanthos, the god of death, stood unmoved, his presence cold and unyielding. “We stand at the precipice of death,” Xanthos intoned, voice low and hollow.

Yeivesa’s eyes narrowed as he studied the death god’s inscrutable face of purple glowing eyes and black wrappings of a mummy. Yeivesa began, “Mortals should contemplate death,” his tone almost reflective. “To stare into skulls, to ponder what it might be like to never wake. Never. For hundreds of years, I’ve dwelled on these last days, and in that reflection, I’ve found peace in the thought. To turn the page and join the countless chapters written before me, knowing more yet are to come…if we succeed.” He paused, his expression darkening with worry. “But I fear for Rain. Part mortal, part divine. This ordeal will change them. Taking on your domain… for what? So mortals may live their lives, unaware of the sacrifices made on their behalf?”

Yeivesa shook his head, eyes distant. “Ever since that day…Tears and Rain…I’ve done nothing but try to protect Rain. But alas, I’ve made my final move and now wait for the result, knowing it’s the last time I’ll see them. I wonder… was this all part of your plan, Xanthos? My words, my anger?”

Xanthos’s expression remained a mask of calm. “Jaz has made the law clear for the divine to follow. Edmeera’s profane actions have forced our hand to make these choices.”

Icy Ruin

The view from the Valiant as it lay moored in the freezing waters of Icesyn’s port was anything but inviting. The distant glow of flames…sullen and orange against the eternal foggy abyss…hinted at the havoc that had unfolded in the city while Cassara scoured its ruins in search of Ember. The adventurers exchanged grim nods, a silent understanding passing among them as they readied their gear. The time had come to disembark.

A lone crewman worked to lower the boat, hands moving in practiced motions despite the gnawing cold that bit at exposed flesh. Another clambered aboard, his breath fogging as he braced himself to row the group ashore. The oars creaked, dipping into the black water, and the silence was broken only by the rhythmic splash of icy waves. But the journey was short, and the stillness that greeted them at the dock was more unsettling than any storm. The dock was eerily quiet…not the bustling haven it had been just days before, when life still clung to this cursed city.

Peach lingered as his companions disembarked, unease gnawing at his gut. Something was wrong…he could feel it in his bones, like a breath of cold air sliding beneath his skin. But the others moved ahead, their footsteps muffled by the thick fog that clung to the streets like a living thing. Peach bit back his dread, burying it alongside the other worry gnawing at him: Tavina’s silence. She had not spoken since they set sail, and that silence weighed heavier than any blade. Two worries were already too many.

The fog was relentless, curling around them, obscuring all sight and sound. With each step, it seemed to thicken, turning the streets into a labyrinth of shadow and half-glimpsed threats. Peach steeled himself, calling upon the primal force within, letting his druidic senses stretch out like roots seeking water. The land whispered back to him…subtle but insistent…and he guided the group forward, navigating the choking mist with a quiet determination. There was no time for strife, no room for discord. Not here, not with Cassara waiting in the depths of this frozen tomb.

Who Is but Fungar…

They reached one of the countless squares that dotted the city, a forgotten remnant of better days. The icy cobblestones were slick beneath their boots, the air heavy with the metallic tang of impending violence. It was there, in the heart of the square, that they spotted it…a prismatic crystal, embedded deep in the ground, shimmering with an unnatural light. It was a thing of beauty and danger, like a blade glistening in moonlight, but such caution was lost on Dax.

Fungar’s greed whispered in Dax’s ear, urging him forward, blind to the madness of coveting something larger than himself. The others had seen such folly before…how the hunger for trinkets and treasures had led lesser creatures to untimely ends. Ember and Aydriann moved to halt him, their instincts sharp, but Dax was already entranced. With a wide grin, he wrapped his arms around the crystal, clutching it as if it were some long-lost friend returned to him. The absurdity of the act would have been laughable if not for the doom it unleashed.

The crystal’s light shifted, from a tranquil shimmer to a violent pulse, each beat growing stronger, a heart of malice awakening from slumber. Dax’s eyes widened as raw energy crackled through his fingertips, but it was too late for regrets. The others barely had time to react, their mockery freezing in their throats as the air around them twisted. A dragon, laid perched upon a building close by.

Its scales gleaming with the same prismatic hue as the cursed crystal. The beast loomed over them, its eyes cold with an ancient hunger, yet there was something almost amused in its gaze as it surveyed its would-be challengers. The dragon’s scales rippled like living glass, and within them, Peach caught a glimpse of a face…Cassara’s face, distorted and multiplied across the creature’s crystalline hide. Her voice echoed in their minds, clear and unwavering despite the menace laced within her words.

“Ember must die.”

Dragon Fight

The battle was chaos, blood and breath mingling with the bitter wind that howled through the ruined square. The dragon, now fully under Cassara’s influence, struck with relentless fury, its crystal scales shimmering as it twisted and lashed out with talons and tail. Blows were traded, but every strike against the beast cost them dearly.

Aydriann had taken a direct hit from the dragon’s breath, a beam of searing light that left him burnt and barely clinging to consciousness. Hidden in the shadows now, he waited for the right moment to strike again, though every breath came with a searing pain. Mack, ever the brave fool, had charged headstrong into the fray only to be blinded by the dragon’s shimmering wings. She stumbled back, helpless against the dark blur that encircled her…a beast of death closing in, all teeth and claws.

Above them all, Peach hovered like a vengeful spirit, eyes crackling with power. He called forth lightning from the storm-riddled sky, each bolt slamming into the dragon with deafening force. The air burned with ozone, the light blinding as it seared into crystal scales. But even with its body fractured and bleeding light, the dragon fought on, driven by some force that refused to let it flee. It thrashed and roared, held prisoner by the dark will that drove Cassara’s words through its mind. “Ember must die,” the command echoed still, fueling the creature’s desperation as it refused to yield.

Ember staggered under the relentless barrage of the dragon’s attacks, her armor scorched and cracked where the creature’s claws and breath found their mark. Each strike pushed her closer to her limit, pain tightening her grip on her sword as she struggled to keep her footing. Yet even as she fought on, Orianna was there, driven by a fierce need to protect her friend.

Orianna threw herself into the path of each deadly strike, her shield raised high to intercept the blows meant for Ember. Every impact sent jolts of pain through her, but she refused to falter. To her, Ember was more than just a companion in battle…she was family, and that bond was stronger than any fear or pain. Orianna took on the dragon’s wrath with grim determination, each sacrifice etched in the lines of her strained expression.

Though Ember was hurting, her breath coming in ragged gasps, it was Orianna who bore the greater burden, absorbing the fury meant to end them both. The cost was clear in the way Orianna’s movements slowed, her body near breaking, but she never wavered. Every strike she took, every step she made, was for Ember…because no matter how grim things grew, she would not allow her to fall.

And then there was Dax. The one who had started this whole catastrophe. The cold had only grown harsher, each gust of wind biting deep, punishing anyone who dared stand still for too long. With the dragon’s attacks growing more frenzied and the group barely holding the line, Dax realized the dire straits they were in. His gaze flicked to the cracked bottle in his bag…a potion from Fungar’s collection, leaking a molten liquid that hissed against the icy air. A choice lingered in his mind, time slipping away with every second.

Drink it and gain fire breath, perhaps enough to end this once and for all…or dump it out and take a gamble with whatever might happen next. The liquid bubbled, the choice burning as fiercely as the contents. The others were nearing their limits; even Peach’s thunderous strikes had started to falter, the lightning slower to answer his call. Aydriann was barely holding his knife steady, Mack groped at shadows, and Orianna’s strength was fading under the weight of Ember’s wounds.

But it was Dax’s foolishness that had brought them to this brink, and now it was up to him to decide how it would end. The wind whipped around him, cold and merciless, as he made his choice.