SIDE QUEST VIII

CONVERGENCE

———————1————————

The morning after Taylan’s wedding dawned bright, but the joy from the previous night's celebrations faded quickly for Calli when she learned of a new law passed in the city. As she sat at the breakfast table in a sunlit room with her companions, a courier arrived with a scroll bearing the official seal of the city council. Her eyes narrowed as she unrolled the document and read its contents.

It was a decree that no public performances could take place without a permit, signed into law by the Queen herself. The permit required hefty fees and approval from city officials, likely an effort to suppress freedom of expression. Calli’s heart pounded with anger, her fingers tightening around the edges of the scroll.

“No public performances without a permit?” she said, her voice seething with outrage as she crumpled the paper and threw it on the table. “This is madness! They can’t silence the people like this!”

Byron looked up from his meal, frowning as he saw the fury in her eyes. "Sounds like the Queen's trying to control the narrative, keep people quiet.”

Nightingale sat back in his chair, crossing his arms with a scowl. “Typical. Control the people, control the power. This is an attack on freedom itself.”

The mood in the room shifted. Taylan, despite still basking in the joy of his wedding, looked serious now. The city was changing, and it wasn’t for the better.

As they discussed what steps they could take, another letter arrived, but this one was far more curious. It was an invitation—green parchment, elegant handwriting, and sealed with emerald wax—to tea at The Posh and Turtle, a well-known establishment for the elite of Korvosa. The invitation was signed by none other than Constance Del la Verte.

The room went silent. The name hung in the air like a dark cloud. Putrifax - The Green Dragon.

The Flowers exchanged glances, and an uneasy tension settled over them. Calli, still fuming about the performance law, looked at the others with uncertainty.

“We knew this day was coming,” Taylan said softly, his voice calm but grave. “Putrifax has been watching us for some time.”

Byron grunted, crossing his arms. “Tea with a dragon. Sounds like a trap to me.”

Shiv snorted. “Of course it’s a trap. But you gonna refuse?”

They all knew what the answer was. Constance, or rather the Green Dragon in human guise, was a figure of immense power. Her influence stretched far beyond Korvosa, and despite her dangerous nature, refusing such an invitation could have dire consequences. But accepting it... well, they couldn’t quite predict what she wanted or how this meeting would play out.

Calli sighed, rubbing her temples. “We can’t ignore this. If she’s asking for us like this, it’s because she’s finally decided we’re worth talking to.”

“And we can expect she’s not immediately looking for a fight.” Nightingale added, leaning forward, his gaze sharp. “She knows where we are, if she was looking to scrap she could come to us. She must have something to say, and I’d rather face her on neutral ground than on our own turf.”

After a long discussion, the Flowers agreed. They couldn’t avoid this meeting, not if they wanted to keep the upper hand. But they’d go in prepared. It wasn’t every day they had tea with a dragon, after all.

Later that afternoon, they gathered their belongings and steeled themselves for what was to come. The Posh and Turtle awaited, as did their meeting with the enigmatic ConstanceDel la Verte.

———————2————————

The Flowers stood outside The Posh and Turtle, staring up at its opulent facade. The establishment was known for its elegance, the kind of place that reeked of wealth and power, and today, it carried a far more ominous weight. Byron, Calli, Nightingale, Shiv, and Taylan exchanged glances, each aware that this wasn't just a meeting for tea—it was an audience with a dragon.

The doors, polished to a gleam and carved with intricate sea motifs, opened before them as they approached. A wave of cool, scented air washed over them, a mixture of jasmine and lavender, with a faint hint of the sea. Inside, the décor was an immediate feast for the eyes. Tiffany lamps cast a warm, golden glow across the room, illuminating delicate rice water bowls placed at each table. The gentle trickle of water from a nearby fountain added a serene backdrop to the soft murmur of conversation.

But it wasn’t the lamps or the scent of luxury that took the Flowers’ breath away. No, it was the floor.

Beneath their feet, the ground gave way to an expanse of glass, revealing a mesmerizing scene below—a sea cave, bathed in an ethereal, blue light. Massive, dark waters ebbed and flowed in the cavern beneath the establishment, and swimming within them was the legendary turtle that gave the place its name. The creature was enormous, its shell wider than two carriages side by side. It moved slowly, lazily, in the watery depths, its ancient eyes indifferent to the grand world above.

Taylan’s eyes widened in wonder, stepping forward to gaze down at the turtle. “Incredible…” he whispered.

“Nothing but a distraction,” Shiv muttered, though his eyes lingered a moment longer on the creature.

The staff of The Posh and Turtle moved with a grace that bordered on theatrical. Dressed in immaculate uniforms, they were exceedingly professional and courteous. One by one, they greeted the Flowers with polite nods, their faces masks of refined neutrality. They spoke in low, melodic tones, offering to take their cloaks and guide them to their table.

The group, slightly out of place in such an extravagant setting, allowed themselves to be led further into the heart of the establishment. The table reserved for them was positioned with a perfect view of the sea cave below, a constant reminder of the deep, powerful currents both literal and metaphorical that swirled around them. The atmosphere felt heavy with unseen influence, like a breath held too long.

As they approached, it wasn’t the view that drew their attention but the figure sitting at the far end of the grand table. Constance Del la Verte, the Green Dragon herself, sat like a queen on a throne, her high-backed chair dwarfing her slender frame. Her hair was expertly coiffed, and she was dressed in a sharp tailored, bold-coloured green suit with large shoulder pads. Its sharp lines exuded authority and luxury. The fabric shimmered in various shades of green, catching the light in waves that seemed to shift with every movement, like scales reflecting the sun.

Her gloved hands rested delicately on the table, green lace stretching over fingers that hinted at danger beneath their elegance. Her expression was one of amused indulgence, her eyes—piercing, emerald green—already watching the Flowers as they were led closer. Two armored soldiers and one caster, all wearing deep green cloaks, flanked her, silent but imposing, their presence a reminder that power here was backed by force.

The dragon’s smile deepened as they neared, and with a sudden, graceful motion, she clapped her hands. "My guests are here!" Her voice was like velvet, but beneath it was an unmistakable edge—commanding, almost predatory.

At her signal, staff arrived with chairs that they placed for the party. The Flowers hesitated for a split second before seating themselves one by one, feeling the weight of the moment.

Calli was the first to sit, her usual fiery confidence tempered by the palpable power in the room. She chose one just off opposite, leaving Taylan the chair furthest from his hunter. Taylan followed, sitting in the subtly indicated head seat, his eyes lingering on Constance with an unreadable expression. Shiv dropped into a chair closest to the woman with his usual nonchalance, though even he seemed to feel the gravity of their hostess. Byron, took the seat on Constance’s other side, wanting to be within range if things went sour, his muscles taut beneath his relaxed exterior. Nightingale sat last between Taylan and Shiv, always observing, always calculating. None of them liked that the cloaked figures remained standing one bit.

Constance folded her hands in front of her, fingers intertwined with casual grace as she looked over each of them, her smile never wavering. "Welcome," she said softly, the word laced with amusement and a hint of something darker. "I trust the journey here was... enlightening?"

Each of the Flowers knew, in that moment, they were in the presence of someone who could be far more dangerous than Lady Andaisin had ever been.

Del la Verte smiled warmly as they settled in, her gaze sweeping over the group like a cat observing a flock of birds. "I am so delighted you’ve accepted my invitation for tea," she purred, her voice carrying the practised grace of someone used to getting what they wanted. A delicate teapot, gilded in silver, was placed before her by one of the staff, but she made no move to pour. Her focus remained squarely on the Flowers.

Calli returned a polite smile and quipped, “Yes, see how much easier it is to meet with us when you just ask instead of sending minions to abduct one and kill the others?”

For the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crossed Constance’s face. She blinked, the reaction so subtle it could have been missed, but it was there—a crack in her serene, composed demeanour. "Kill you?" she repeated, a note of genuine disbelief colouring her words. "That certainly wasn’t my intention. I merely impressed upon my twins the importance of bringing dear Taylan to me. They said they’d make you all an offer you couldn’t refuse, and I haven’t seen them since. Was it nice? Where there chocolates and flowers?" Her voice softened, a ripple of regret touching her expression. "I had no idea they’d resorted to such... tactics." She pressed a hand to her chest, feigning outrage, her lace gloves catching the light. "I assure you, that’s not how I conduct business. When I see those scallywags again, I’ll give them a stern talking to."

There was a pause, an almost imperceptible stillness, as the group tried to sense if she was lying about both the orders and not knowing where the goblin twins were. As most of the group knew, the twins were dead, and fed to an otyugh. Taylan, in his guileless naivety, started to admit it, “The twins-” but Calli quickly covered, “The twins only said you wanted the amulet, but never said why.”

Shiv, who had been Trevor when that battle took place and was thus unburdened with concern, asked if there was any booze around. A bottle of rich amber liquid appeared almost instantly, placed before him by a courteous server. Without a second thought, the uncouth barbarian grabbed it by the neck, ignoring any semblance of manners or etiquette, and took a long swig. The others watched in silence as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, seemingly oblivious to the elegance of the surroundings.

Taylan, sitting across from Constance, raised an eyebrow. His confusion was palpable. "What's your beef, lady?" he asked bluntly, breaking the tension in the room with his straightforwardness.

Del la Verte’s eyes gleamed, her smile growing wider, but there was something cold beneath the surface. "My dear Taylan," she began, her voice as smooth as silk, "I simply want to know when you and I will be getting married."

The room froze. The already quiet group became statuesque. Taylan blinked, then furrowed his brow, clearly perplexed. "Married?" he echoed, glancing at the rest of the Flowers for confirmation that he had heard correctly.

"Yes of course. We’re betrothed," Constance clarified, her tone unwavering. "It was arranged long ago, sealed by your father and myself."

Shiv’s drink exploded from his mouth and the chaotic half orc started guffawing at the situation “Oh whoa! Now this is going to get really interesting!”

Taylan’s confusion deepened, his mind racing. "I... I don’t know what you’re talking about," he stammered. "I just got married." His thoughts flicked to the joyous celebrations of the previous day, and he felt a sudden cold knot forming in his stomach.

Constance’s eyes darkened, her disappointment barely concealed behind a mask of politeness. She leaned back in her chair, fingers drumming lightly on the table. "How unfortunate," she said softly, though the venom behind her words was unmistakable. "I had such high hopes. But if that’s the case, Taylan..." Her voice sharpened, and her eyes locked onto the amulet around his neck. "Then I demand the return of my dowry."

Taylan instinctively reached for the necklace, fingers brushing over its intricate ivory dragon design, a gift he had worn since he was a child. "Dowry?" he repeated, his confusion giving way to disbelief.

Del la Verte nodded, her smile now tinged with a predatory edge. "That amulet you wear—my amulet," she explained. "It’s practically a wedding band. It was given to you when you were but a babe, to be returned to me when we married. Your father brokered the agreement." Her voice lowered, taking on a more dangerous tone. "Your father—the White Maw."

The revelation hit Taylan like a physical blow. He stared at the disguised Putrifax, his mind reeling. His father? A dragon? The White Maw? The name echoed in his mind, foreign and terrifying. "My father was... what?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Their hostess leaned forward, her gaze unrelenting. "The White Maw," she repeated, almost savouring the shock that rippled through Taylan and the rest of the Flowers. "A mighty white dragon with whom I once had territorial disputes. We’d came to an arrangement to form an alliance, to be bound by matrimony, so I gave you a family heirloom to symbolize that pact. He broke his promise and sent you away as a baby, instead. I had him cast out of draconian society for the betrayal."

Hoping to give Taylan a moment to process Gale interjected, “The twins told us you killed the White Maw.”

“It is true I am the White Maw’s doom, but it’s only a political death. They can be so dramatic!”

Taylan’s breath caught in his throat as the weight of these truths settled in. His father, a dragon banished by his own kind. His life, shaped by a pact he never knew existed. And now a green dragon, standing before him, expecting to claim what she believed was hers.

The room remained heavy with tension, the Flowers silent as they absorbed the revelations. Taylan’s grip tightened on the amulet, unsure of what came next, but knowing one thing for certain: nothing in his life would ever be the same again.

Calli’s brow furrowed as she glanced at the amulet around Taylan’s neck. Its cryptic words had always intrigued her, and this moment felt like the perfect opportunity to get some clarity. "If it was an heirloom of yours, you can tell us what the words on it mean?" she challenged, her voice calm yet probing.

Constance’s face stiffened slightly, though she quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "I do not know," she replied, her tone dismissive. "I inherited the trinket long ago, and it’s been many years since I’ve last seen it. The words are unimportant. It’s the sentimental value that I hold dear."

Calli’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. How could Constance not know? If the amulet was truly hers, wouldn’t she know every detail about it? She felt a flicker of suspicion rise within her. “Then do you know why your family heirloom is of a white dragon, not a green one?”

She waved away the question as if swatting a fly. "My family has often made such arrangements with white dragons in the past. I care for what the amulet represents, not what’s written on it." But for all her supposed nonchalance this rang false to Calli’s trained senses.

Taylan was reluctant. His fingers tightened around the amulet, a talisman he’d worn his whole life, and the idea of simply handing it over to this imposing woman seemed... wrong. "I don’t want to give it up," he said, his voice firm.

The disguised dragon’s emerald eyes darkened with annoyance, her poised demeanour faltering for just a moment. Before tension could escalate, Calli interjected with a diplomatic tone. "Surely," she began carefully, "if this amulet is as important as you say, you would have proof it belongs to you?”

Del la Verte’s nostrils flared slightly, but she regained her composure with a steely smile. "In draconic circles, everyone knows that this amulet belongs to me," she said, her voice edged with pride.

Calli, undeterred, continued. "But we are not in a draconian society. This is Korvosa. You can understand why we’d want some proof."

Taylan, sensing the chance to push the matter further, spoke up. "If you bring my father here—if he confirms that the amulet belongs to you—then that would be all the proof we need." His words were resolute, yet there was a lingering doubt. Would he even want to see the White Maw after what he had just learned?

Constance's eyes flashed with indignation at the suggestion. Her perfectly manicured fingers gripped the arm of her chair just a little too tightly, but she managed to maintain her facade of cool elegance. "Bring your father here?" she echoed, the idea clearly offensive to her. But after a brief pause, she sighed and said, "Very well. If that is what you require, I shall make the arrangements."

Just as it seemed the conversation was settling into a tense agreement, Putrifax’s sharp gaze landed back on Taylan. Her lips curved into a predatory smile. "Tell me," she purred, "what is your wife’s name?"

The room seemed to freeze. Panic flared in Taylan’s chest, and in his flustered state, the first name that came to mind tumbled out of his mouth. "Trevor!" he blurted, then immediately regretted it. He quickly tried to salvage the situation. "Uh, yes, Trevor. My wife’s name is Trevor... and she lives at the Nabootique with my Master Roshi."

Her eyebrow arched ever so slightly at the unusual name, but she said nothing of it. Instead, she smiled—a smile that felt far too predatory for Taylan’s liking. "I shall send your dear Trevor a wedding gift," she said smoothly.

Taylan shook his head quickly. "No, that won’t be necessary," he replied, his pulse racing.

Constance tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with something inscrutable. "I insist." she murmured, her voice carrying a quiet threat beneath the surface.

As the tension in the room began to ease, the conversation shifted, guided now by Constance’s curiosity about Korvosan society. She relaxed back into her chair, eyes glittering with interest. "Tell me," she purred, her tone smooth but commanding, "what is Korvosan society really like? I’ve heard many things, but I prefer to learn from those who live it."

Calli, always keen to engage in conversation, saw this as an opportunity to gather information as well. "I could ask the same about draconic society," she replied, her voice bright and curious. "I imagine it’s quite different from what we’re used to here. Tell me—what are the power dynamics like between dragons?"

Del la Verte signalled again and a lush afternoon tea was delivered to the table by the waitstaff. “It’s on me, of course.” The group, cautiously at first, sampled the fine dining. When they’d determined it seemed safe enough, they then enjoyed it more fully. The women dominated the conversation, with the males of the table getting occasional questions in, but happy to finish the meal and get out of there before anything else could go wrong.

As they ate Calli explained the political intricacies of Korvosa—the new Queen, the merchant lords, the guilds—while Constance provided glimpses into the ancient hierarchy of dragons, even explaining where she met Taylan’s father. Her territory was a great forest on the side of a mountain near Elven ruins, and his bordered on the other side. The White Maw was a learned scholar and archaeologist, and when they’d had their brief truce, had taught her much about the history of the people that had lived there hundreds of thousands of years ago. Calli made a mental note of the descriptions, certain she’d be able to figure out where those ruins were with a bit of research. Constance also spoke about the long-standing rivalries and alliances between dragons, the ancient customs that governed their lives, and the weight of their names.

Taylan, who was normally at his happiest in front of a free meal, was largely silent, lost in his thoughts over all he’d learned.

The conversation between Calli and Constance wound down, the dragon’s gaze snapping back to the present. She smiled, her tone once again regal and commanding as she concluded, "Well, this has been quite... enlightening. I shall send my minions to locate where The White Maw has hidden himself in his shame, and when they do, I will bring the proof you need to return what is mine."

Her eyes flickered towards Taylan's amulet once more before she rose from her chair. "Until then, my dear Flowers." She clapped her hands, and the cloaked figures snapped to attention, escorting her out in an impressive show of power.

The Flowers watched her leave, the weight of her presence lingering in the room long after she was gone.

———————3————————

As the Flowers left the establishment, Calli used the opportunity to ask for more information from Shiv about the place he goes when Trevor is in control. He’d been avoiding talking about it, but Gale explained if they could have more detail they may be able to find out more information they could use to assist him in being free of it for good. The Half-Orc brawler relented and described the place as just like Korvosa but “dark, ‘orrible, and out of focus.” When questioned further he got defensive, saying he doesn’t remember what triggered it exactly. He remembered a Halfling mate of his named Benny got attacked by a weird creature the night he fought a Shoanti Brawler. Byron said he remembered that fight, and confirmed it was the last night he’d seen either Shiv or Benny until Shiv took back control while fighting Gaedren’s gator. Shiv gave a description of the creature, and Byron confirmed it as the star beast he’d killed with Trevor.

The group disbanded and Calli made good on her promise, spending the rest of that day with Nif pouring over books. They managed to find references to the Realms of Madness, a place effected by someone’s mental state, a dark tapestry between worlds. The books say how to access it intentionally is up for debate, but that being mentally unstable is usually a requirement. While she wasn’t surprised, she wasn’t sure how she was going to explain it to Shiv.

The next morning was grim for Shiv. He awoke drenched in sweat, heart pounding, terror still fresh in his mind. The nightmare had been unlike any other—a grotesque, relentless creature of pure horror had hunted him through the abyss of the Dark World, a place that seemed to cling to him no matter how far he ran. His chest heaved, and without thinking, he scrambled out of his bed, his only thought: Byron.

Storming through the hallways, Shiv found the towering barbarian and pounded on his door, screaming and shouting until Byron flung it open. "You promised!" Shiv shouted, half in desperation, half in accusation. "You swore you'd help me—stop me from going back to the Dark World!"

Byron, sleepy-eyed but recognizing the genuine panic in his friend's voice, sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aye, I remember. Calm down, Shiv."

"Calm down?!" Shiv barked, his voice trembling with fear. "You don’t get it! It’s coming for me, Byron. I can feel it pulling me back!"

Realising Shiv was beyond reasoning, Byron relented. "Alright, alright. Let's get the others."

The Flowers were gathered, huddled together as Shiv frantically explained his plight. His desperation was palpable. "It wasn’t me who was the parasite! Trevor’s been stealing my body, taking over what’s mine! He’s the invader!" He clung to his fabricated story, but Calli’s sharp eyes saw through his panic. His argument rang hollow, but the terror in his eyes told Calli that the truth wasn't what mattered right now—what mattered was finding a solution before Shiv's madness consumed him.

After a lengthy discussion, they decided to seek out Otto, the paladin who had once helped Trevor. His wisdom might be the key to unlocking this mystery and freeing Shiv from his torment. Otto listened intently as the Flowers recounted Shiv’s nightmare and his claims of being consumed by the Dark World. The paladin’s brow furrowed in thought. Shiv stepped out to answer the call of nature and Otto confided in the others that Trevor had spoken to him previously about what happened with Benny, and that he believed Trevor to be the original personality. He hoped that if they were able to repair the damage in his psyche it would heal the rift and remerge the two personalities. Shiv returned, and Otto addressed the group as a whole.

“I believe the amulets I gave Trevor hold some power over his subconscious. Priests of Sarenrae have spoken of Shoanti using these amulets to go on spiritual quests of introspection.” Otto explained. “So it might be possible to use it to enter the ‘Dark World’, to confront whatever it is that haunts him there. But... I don’t know what you might encounter. I can’t say if the dangers you face there will have a toll on your physical forms here. If I can tell things are going awry, I’ll break the circle and pull you all out. But you must be prepared for the worst, as I am not sure how you’ll be able to return on your own.”

The Flowers looked at one another, the weight of Otto’s words settling in. They had faced countless dangers together, but this was different—this was venturing into the unknown depths of someone’s mind, into the very fabric of fear and darkness.

The last thing Shiv wanted to do was go back to that terrifying domain. But he knew he had no choice. If he wanted it gone forever (and the parasite that he knew as Trevor) he had no choice.

"Fuck it. Let’s go," Shiv said, voice steady but resolute. The others nodded in agreement, though a quiet unease filled the room.

One by one, they formed a circle, each Flower holding the hand of the person beside them. In the centre, Shiv wore one of the two amulets. Otto held out the second amulet to Byron, and was midsentence as he took it, “Let me know when you’re-”

———————4————————

In an instant, the world shifted.

The Flowers were plunged into the Dark World.

They stood in an otherworldly landscape, a twisted version of reality where the sky was a swirling mass of black clouds, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse like a living organism. The air was thick with malevolence, and every shadow seemed to move with its own sinister intent. Flashes of Red lightning raced across the sky. Beyond the walls of the city they saw only fog and chaos.

They stood on a massive, grotesque structure—a tower of darkness and despair. This was some twisted version of the Grand Tower in Korvosa. As the flowers looked down they could see an alternate version of Korvosa but its buildings were broken and in ruins. Giant forms walked the streets, creatures with tentacles seemed to slither and writhe all around. It was a living nightmare.

As the Flowers looked around they could see their bodies were insubstantial-almost ghost-like. Only Shiv looked ‘solid’. And he looked terrified. His eyes were wide open and he clutched his weapon tightly, scanning the city and its shadows.

“This is it,” he whispered, voice shaking. “This is where it begins…”

The Flowers knew they needed a plan—and fast. They could feel the ominous presence of the creature hunting Shiv, its malevolence a weight on their shoulders. They gathered in a huddle, formulating their next move.

“We need to lure it somewhere we can control the environment,” Nightingale said, his voice sharp with determination. 

“Orisini’s training ground in Old Korvosa,” said Shiv. “There are places to hide, and plenty of space for an ambush.”

Byron nodded, "Orisini’s is good... but how do we get down from this tower?"

They looked over the edge, searching for any possible route, but found none. No staircases, no ladders—only a drop that seemed to go on forever.

Suddenly, Taylan stiffened. He heard something first, a sound that chilled his bones—laughter, unnatural and unnerving, echoing from the air itself. It slithered into his mind like an insidious whisper, dripping fear into his heart. Memories of his time working for Lamm, and all the abuse that entailed, started flooding back.

Byron, Calli, and Nightingale were suddenly alert, their eyes darting to the horizon. They heard something else—a faint, buzzing sound, like the approach of a massive swarm. It grew louder with each passing second, a cacophony that set their nerves on edge.

Then, they saw it.

A large shape in the distance, dark and foreboding, was moving steadily toward them. Its malevolent presence rippled through the air, sending shivers down their spines. They didn't know what it was, but they knew one thing for certain: they had to get off the tower now.

Nightingale acted swiftly, drawing on his magic. His voice was calm but urgent as he cast Feather Fall, enchanting the party with little wings that appeared on their wrists and ankles, fluttering softly. Without hesitation, they jumped off the far end of the tower, hiding themselves from the looming shape above.

The descent was slow and controlled, their magical wings guiding them gently toward the ground. It felt as if they were floating on a breeze, but none of them could relax—the malevolent presence was still out there, lurking. When their feet finally touched the earth, there was no time to lose.

"Run!" Byron growled, leading the way.

They sprinted down Harbour Street, their eyes scanning every shadow, every alleyway for danger. The plan was simple: cross the only bridge from North Point into Old Korvosa, where Orisini’s training ground awaited. But the reality was far from easy. The streets were crawling with evil, hungry creatures—abominations that would devour them in an instant if they made one wrong turn.

Nightingale took a moment to drink a potion. As the liquid slid down his throat, his form began to dissolve into mist, his body expanding and stretching until he became a cloud of fog. As Nightingale drifted through the fog, his ethereal form touched the world in ways his physical body never could. The mist extended over a hundred feet in every direction, sensing everything: the jagged stones underfoot, the sickly pulse of magic in the air, the dark, hungry creatures lurking in the alleyways. The sensed the monstrous buzzing form above like a sickness in his stomach. But something else stirred in the depths below them—something vast and ancient. Nightingale felt it move beneath the waters, keeping pace with them as they ran. It was large, disturbingly so, its presence a deep, ominous thrum against his senses.

The sensation chilled him, but there was no time to dwell on it.

"Left," Nightingale’s whisper echoed through the air, guiding the Flowers as they sprinted through the maze of streets. "Now right. Hurry."

Their feet pounded against the cobblestones, each turn avoiding danger by a hair's breadth. They could feel the malevolent thing in the water following them, its dark energy pressing in from the sea. But there was something else. Nightingale's senses picked up faint heartbeats—small, clustered together in fear. He concentrated, drifting closer, and saw the outlines of tiny figures huddled together in a narrow alleyway.

“Stop,” he whispered urgently. “There are people ahead. Halflings.”

The Flowers slowed as they rounded a corner, and what they saw made their blood run cold. A group of halflings hid behind some crates, their bodies trembling, faces pale with terror. But that wasn’t what disturbed them the most.

All of the halflings... had the same face.

They all looked like Benni.

The Flowers froze, horror gripping them as the identical halflings turned their wide, frightened eyes toward the group. They cringed away from the group.

Byron’s fists clenched at his sides, his warrior instincts battling against the rising dread.

He took a slow, cautious step forward, his voice low. "What’s your name?" he asked the closest halfling.

They then seemed to recognize him, and one says, “Benni.” It then points at each of them in turn, repeating over and over, “Benni.” When it got to Shiv, it withdrew further in fear, before finally pointing and giving one last, “Benni.” It was deeply unsettling, the surreal repetition of the name and faces.

Calli’s hand tightened around her harp, a shiver crawling up her spine. This wasn’t right—none of it was. These halflings... they weren’t real. They couldn’t be. But they were here, staring at them with empty, mirrored expressions.

"We need to move," Nightingale's voice echoed through the mist, more insistent this time. “Now.”

Byron slowly backed away from the group of halflings, his eyes never leaving them. Calli, Shiv, Taylan, and the others followed suit, their steps cautious. The halflings watched them go, their identical faces frozen in eerie stillness.

The Flowers turned and ran, their breath quickening as they put more distance between themselves and the unsettling sight. Nightingale guided them through the twisting streets, his senses heightened, feeling the presence of that thing in the water still stalking them from the shadows.

The bridge to Old Korvosa came into view ahead, stretching over the dark, churning waters. But they all knew—whatever was following them wasn’t done yet.

The worst was yet to come.

The bridge loomed before them much larger than in real life, its width staggering, an expanse of cracked stone and jagged spikes that jutted up like monstrous teeth. The stone spikes were placed haphazardly, creating a dangerous obstacle course for the Flowers. One wrong step, and they could be impaled or sliced apart. And yet, they had no choice. The thing in the water was coming for them, the hunting buzzing monster not far behind, and their presence felt like a weight bearing down on their backs.

"We have to move!" Byron shouted, his voice tense as he led the charge onto the bridge.

The Flowers scrambled over the spike-strewn pathway, the stones cutting into their arms and legs as they maneuvered through the perilous gaps. Blood streaked the jagged stone, but they pressed on, determined to make it to the other side. The growling roar of the creature in the water sent shivers down their spines, pushing them forward faster.

Just as they began to see the other side of the bridge, a massive shape burst from the dark waters below, drenching them with a wave of spray. The enormous alligator surged up on their left, its gleaming teeth snapping open with a terrible hunger. Its eyes locked onto Byron, and a memory slammed into him—of being beaten by Gaedren Lamm, of the very first time he faced this monster.

"Gobblegut," Byron whispered, his voice a mix of shock and anger. The initial surprise gave way to a new one, Shiv wouldn’t have known that Gaedren had thrown him to his killer pet. How was it featuring in his mind, now?

The gator was no longer the beast they had once encountered—it had grown, twisted into a giant version of itself, with a chain dangling from its neck. The weight of that chain suggested captivity, but its gaze was wild with primal hunger. And it wanted to finally swallow up the man who’d gotten away from him all those years ago.

The laughter only Taylan could hear got louder.

"Byron, keep moving!" Calli shouted from behind him, her eyes wide as she saw the beast slip back into the water, its massive form cutting through the currents as it headed toward the far side of the bridge.

But their problems were not over. On the opposite shore, people were running toward them. At first, it seemed like a rescue, but as they got closer, the Flowers saw their faces—clowns. Grinning, twisted clowns, just like the ones Byron and Trevor had faced before in Old Korvosa. Their painted faces smiled too wide, and in their hands were staves that crackled with arcane energy.

"Hail the emperor!" Byron called out, hoping for recognition, but the clowns only grinned wider, breaking into a sprint, weapons raised to strike.

Without hesitation, Calli raised her harp. She plucked a single note, then another, her fingers flying over the strings. The tune began slowly, a rising scale, but then she quickened the tempo, her magic flowing into the air. The melody swirled around the Flowers, wrapping them in its rhythm, and suddenly, they felt lighter, faster.

The spell of haste took hold.

Byron's muscles surged with newfound strength, his hands flexing as he prepared for the battle ahead. Shiv grinned maniacally, his bloodlust rising as he felt the spell quicken his steps. Taylan readied his wand, his eyes locked on the clowns ahead.

The clowns charged, their grinning faces twisted with manic glee as they sprinted toward the Flowers. Taylan gripped his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath, preparing for whatever came next.

The first clown lunged at Byron, its quarterstaff crackling with energy as it swung with unnatural strength. The impact sent a sharp jolt through Byron’s shoulder, but the pain only fueled his rage. With a roar, he retaliated, slashing his claws across the clown's chest, tearing through flesh and fabric with ease. The force of the blow was immense—blood sprayed across the stone bridge, and the clown staggered back, cackling even as its life drained from the deep wounds.

Another clown lashed out at Taylan, its staff smashing against his side. Taylan grunted, feeling the sting, but his resolve held firm. He raised his wand, a gleam of determination in his eyes.

“Not today,” Taylan whispered as he pointed his wand skyward. With a flick of his wrist, he cast fly, and his feet lifted from the ground. In an instant, he hovered twenty feet above the bridge, safely out of reach of the clowns below.

Below him, the battle raged on. Shiv’s maniacal grin matched that of the clowns as he barreled into one of them, swinging his ax with reckless abandon. The weapon crashed into the clown’s chest, the impact sending it reeling. But instead of screaming in pain, the clown only laughed—an unsettling, deranged cackle that echoed across the bridge. Blood poured from its wound, but it seemed to relish the agony.

“You like that, huh?!” Shiv shouted, his eyes wild. “There’s plenty more where that came from!”

Nearby, Nightingale’s form shifted, the mist coalescing into a thick, dense fog. He surrounded a group of the clowns with his opaque fog form, their laughter growing louder as they prepared to strike. But Nightingale had other plans. His whole being began to crackle with electricity. With a sudden surge, he cast shocking grasp.

Lightning arced through the fog, searing into the clowns with deadly precision. Two of them convulsed, their bodies twitching as the electricity fried them from the inside out. They fell to the ground, smoke rising from their still forms. But two others managed to survive the onslaught, their painted faces twisted into even wider grins.

Byron glanced around, his mind racing as he tried to assess the situation. They were taking down the clowns one by one, but the malevolent energy around them felt wrong—like these enemies were thriving on the very pain they inflicted and received.

Calli fed more magic out through her music to give her teammates extra boosts to their fighting prowess, and moved away from the right side of the bridge where the massive alligator was climbing back up to try and attack from behind while they were distracted.

“We need to finish them off fast!” Byron yelled, leaping toward another clown. His claws flashed in the air, and with one swift strike, he tore through the clown’s defenses, sending it collapsing to the ground in a heap.

Byron’s claws sliced through the next clown in front of him, the figure crumpling into a twisted heap on the bridge. But as the body hit the ground, it didn’t lie still. Instead, it began to twitch and writhe as dozens of slug-like creatures spilled from the clown’s remains. Byron’s instinct kicked in, and he stomped on the slithering horrors, crushing several beneath his boots. Yet one of the vile things managed to latch onto his ankle, sinking tiny, needle-like teeth into his skin.

Byron cursed, shaking his leg violently as the pain surged through him, but there was no time to dwell on the wound. Gobblegut’s immense form loomed closer and closer. Its jaws dripped with hunger, saliva pooling beneath it as it locked its eyes on Byron.

Clowns swung their crackling staves, landing blows on both Byron and Shiv. The barbarian grunted, his body taking the brunt of the attacks, but he pressed on, hacking into one of the clowns with a brutal swing of his ax. The clown staggered but remained standing, laughing through the pain like it was some twisted joke.

"Run!" Taylan shouted from above, his voice cutting through the chaos. From his aerial vantage point, he could see more clowns pouring in from the direction of Korvosa. Glowing bolts of energy shot from his eyes, slamming into a clown’s chest and sending it sprawling to the ground. The laughter grew louder still, threatening to overwhelm him, but he clenched his jaw and pushed through the distraction.

Nightingale, still swirling in his mist form, unleashed another pulse of shocking grasp at the clown reinforcements that passed through him. Electricity sparked within his dense fog, arcing from one clown to the next. Two more collapsed, their bodies twitching as the electrical surge ripped through them. But even with the growing pile of bodies, more clowns kept coming. Gale’s whispery voice warned the others that there were more coming from all around Old Korvosa, and they needed to turn back.

Meanwhile, Gobblegut was only steps away from Byron, its massive jaws wide open, ready to snap him up whole. The air around the creature felt heavy with dread, its sheer size and presence overwhelming. Byron stood his ground, but the gator’s hunger was palpable—this was personal.

From the corner of his eye, Taylan spotted movement. A figure in red armour and cloak was sprinting toward them from the North Point side of the bridge. They moved with purpose, holding a longbow at the ready. Without hesitation, the figure notched an arrow, pulling back the string, and let it fly. The arrow shot through the air with deadly accuracy, embedding itself into the side of the giant alligator.

Gobblegut let out a low, guttural growl, momentarily distracted.

Calli, sensing an opportunity, quickly began to weave her magic. Her fingers danced over her harp, playing a soft, eerie melody. She cast Major Image, summoning a figure from all their pasts—a figure the reptile knew well. Gaedren Lamm, the twisted criminal who had once controlled Bryon, Shiv, Taylan, and Gobblegut, appeared on the Old Korvosan side of the bridge in view of the creature.

“Fuck off!” Calli commanded Gobblegut through the illusion, which spoke with Lamm’s cruel voice. Seeing that trying to get through the clowns was a lost cause, she turned and began running back through the spikes towards the mystery archer, wincing as they sliced into her flesh.

The massive crocodile hesitated, its yellow eyes locking onto the image of its old master. For a brief, tense moment, the beast seemed torn between its primal hunger and the deep-rooted fear and obedience it held for Lamm. Slowly, it began to back away, sliding off the edge of the bridge and disappearing into the river below. Yet its claws remained dug into the stone, as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.

Byron turned to the last clown, his fury surging as he slashed into it with a final, vicious blow. The clown fell, its painted smile frozen in a grotesque expression as it hit the ground. But just as the Flowers took a breath, hundreds more clowns could be seen in the distance, sprinting toward the bridge.

“We can’t fight them all!” Shiv shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.

Without a second thought, Shiv grabbed Byron, hauling him up onto his shoulder with surprising strength. "We need to go, now!" he growled, and without waiting for an answer, he sprinted toward the spike stones that lined the far side of the bridge.

The jagged stones cut into their legs and arms as they clambered through, but Shiv pushed on, forcing his way through the maze of sharp edges. Byron gritted his teeth as the spikes dug into his skin, blood trickling down his arms, but there was no stopping. Taylan followed in the air. As they ran Nightingale in cloud form, covered their progress and the spike stones in a dense fog. Calli had the Gaedren image order Gobblegut to attack the clowns, which halted them from chasing further. The result meant the Flowers had a moment to catch their breath.

Breathing hard, Byron and Shiv finally reached the other side, collapsing onto the ground in exhaustion. They swallowed some health potions and the blood ceased flowing as their wounds mended. 

“We’re not done yet,” the figure in red armour said, her back to them and eyes fixed on the ruined streets of Korvosa. The tension in the air was thick. Calli’s gaze sharpened. She recognized that voice, that armour.

“Rose?” she whispered, barely believing her eyes. “I know this isn’t real, but it’s so good to see you again.”

“There’ll be time for that later, let’s get out of here.” The woman identified as Rose kept arrows at the ready on the bow, head turning to scan their surroundings.

Nightingale’s cloud-like form reached them, and he felt an intense warmth as he covered Rose. He recognized her immediately. The fog that formed his body dissipated in an instant, and he solidified once more, his human form embracing her as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Rose?” His voice cracked with disbelief, horror, and hope all at once. “How?” He whipped his head around to Shiv, anger and confusion flashing in his eyes. Her presence in Shiv’s broken psyche seemed some damning indication of guilt. “What did you do?”

But Rose, with a calm authority that cut through the moment’s chaos, turned toward him, shaking her head. “It’s got nothing to do with Shiv, or any of the rest of your party. It’s to do with you.” Her voice was soft yet firm, carrying a weight of something unsaid. “But there’s no time to explain here, we must move. Come on, Love.”

Nightingale tried to say something, to grasp at the impossible truth in front of him, but the urgency in Rose’s voice silenced his questions. There would be no answers, not now. With a nod, he followed her, his heart racing, torn between disbelief and the overwhelming need to stay close to her. She took his hand and began to run. Calli followed behind without hesitation.

The remaining Flowers exchanged glances, uncertainty swirling in their eyes, but there was something in Rose’s presence that demanded trust. Without a word, they fell in line, following her through the twisted streets of Korvosa. She led them with precision, weaving through alleys and side paths as if she had done it a hundred times before. She seemed to know where each monster lurked, avoiding their patrols with ease, guiding the group with a confidence that was almost otherworldly.

At every turn, the city seemed more alien, more dangerous. The ground pulsed as if alive, and shadows twisted unnaturally, warping the streets into a nightmarish landscape. A giant slug-like creature slithered behind them, but thanks to Rose’s guidance, they managed to keep just ahead of its pursuit.

After what felt like hours, they reached Eudicot Manor—Calli’s childhood home. Its towering, ivy-covered walls seemed unchanged, untouched by the darkness that had consumed Korvosa. As they crossed the threshold, an immediate wave of peace washed over them. The chaos outside felt distant, muted. Inside, it was as if the horrors of the Dark World didn’t exist. The air was warm, calm, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, they were safe.

Rose shut the door behind them after they ran in, and in the motion her cloak fell aside. The group saw clearly for the first time that she was noticeably pregnant. Calli, Gale, and Rose clung to each other and begin sobbing, a tearful reunion too powerful for words.

Shiv was the first to break the silence. “Who is this, Nightingale?” His voice harsh, demanding

“This is my previous bodyguard Rose,” Calli sniffed.

Nightingale's voice cracked, his words barely holding together as the weight of the moment threatened to crush him. “My dead wife.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, afraid that if he blinked, if he lost focus for even a second, she would disappear into the mist of the Dark World.

The sight of her swollen belly shattered something deep within him. She hadn’t been so far along when she died. Only the two of them had known, not ready yet to let anyone in on the secret between them. The life they shared, the life they had created, all gone on one bad night that has haunted him ever since. A tremble coursed through his body as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Her response was like a blade to his chest. “It wasn’t your fault.” Her voice was full of sympathy. It was also heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, the quiet, unflinching acknowledgment of a shared history that had led to tragedy.

Bewildered, Shiv asked the room, “What the fuck is going on?”

Byron spoke up with a more gentle voice, empathetic to what the trio were going through, “I think this realm manifests our fears somehow. Whatever upsets us most.”

Rose nodded, her tone shifting to something more matter-of-fact, almost detached. “That’s exactly it. The longer you stay, the worse it gets. Nightingale… your worst fear is losing me again—knowing that you can’t bring me, or our unborn child, back to the real world, because I will die before you leave.”

The heartbreak was unbearable. Nightingale’s breath came in shallow gasps as he fought to contain the overwhelming grief. He had dreamt of seeing her again countless times, but not like this. Not here. Not in this twisted, nightmarish reflection of reality where his hopes were dashed before his very eyes.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, turning away from her, the tears streaming down his face. “You’re not real. You can’t be.”

“I am real,” Rose insisted, stepping closer, but he refused to look at her. “I am here.”

But Nightingale shook his head, his gaze fixed on the door of the manor house. If he looked at her, if he acknowledged her any further, he knew the pain would swallow him whole. “No. No, you’re not,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper now, the weight of the truth too much to bear.

Calli, who had watched the scene unfold with a mixture of sorrow and unease, finally broke the silence. “Thank you for saving my life that night, Rose,” she said softly, trying to shift the unbearable tension in the air. “We got revenge for you, for all of you we lost that night.”

Rose turned to Calli, her face softening just a fraction. “That was my job,” she replied, the words tinged with the remnants of who she had once been—kind, dutiful, loving. But the hollow look in her eyes betrayed the truth: this was no longer the same Rose Nightingale.

“Gale took over from you, and he’s done a wonderful job of it.” Something was still nagging at her brain and Calli asked, “If this place is supposed to manifest our worst fears, why haven’t I been effected like the rest of you?” She was sick with grief seeing what it was doing to Nightingale, and she couldn’t even allow herself to acknowledge how deep the pregnancy was going to haunt her, but seeing Rose again was more dream than nightmare. The chance to say goodbye she never got.

Rose gave her a pitying look. “You were somewhere you thought you were safe that night, protected by people you loved, when it all came crashing down around you.”

Calli’s eyes went wide and colour drained from her face. She looked around the foyer of her mother’s home at the people she’d been risking her life with, who had done the same for her, who had brought her independence and confidence in a way she’d never had before. The empty house was all at once no longer warm and welcoming, but an ominous threat.

Rose continued, “I don’t know how to fix this, but I can guide you most of the way to Trevor. He’s in South Shore.”

Calli’s dread deepend. “Of course, this place is making me retrace my route that night. But it can’t force us to take the same roads, and I’m not getting in a coach!”

Rose rested a comforting hand on her shoulder and continued, “We can get away on Gale’s horses, but once you go through those walls I won’t be with you anymore.”

“You’re not with me now.” Nightingale, still facing the door, couldn’t handle the weight of it anymore. His hands trembled as he reached out, summoning magic into the air. With a wave of his hand, shimmering forms of spectral horses appeared in front of the manor. “We need to go,” he said, his voice cold, his back still to Rose.

The Flowers hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances, unsure of what to do next. Nightingale was clearly breaking under the strain of seeing Rose again, and yet, the urgency in his voice was undeniable. Whatever was coming next, they had no time to linger in the temporary peace of Eudicot Manor.

One by one, they moved toward the ghostly horses, the eerie stillness of the moment weighed down by the presence of Rose, who stood watching them. Calli stood with her, the two having a quiet conversation the others couldn’t quite hear.

“How do I help him? He’s been a broken man without you.”

Stepping closer, Rose answered, “Find him someone else to love. He shouldn’t carry this grief forever.” There was a pause, her eyes filled with sorrow and resolve. “Look after him.”

Calli’s heart tightened, the burden of Rose’s words heavy in the air. She nodded, a mix of sadness and duty swelling within her. “I will.”

Rose pulled Calli into one more hug, and used it to whisper, “The Trevor and Shiv split comes from betrayal. Every face in this city is Benni’s, it had to have started there. You need to make them trust again.”

“I can work with that.” Calli gave her a last squeeze before the women separated and mounted their spectral steeds.

The others moved forward, their eyes flicking between Nightingale and Rose, knowing the tension was unbearable but unspoken. Nightingale still refused to look at her, his entire body rigid, as if even acknowledging her presence would break him further.

The group set off, the sound of hooves echoing eerily through the streets. They rode in silence, navigating the twisted, broken remnants of Korvosa’s streets, avoiding the lurking monstrosities that seemed to crawl out of the shadows. Rose led them with a quiet certainty, weaving them through alleyways and avoiding places where the air seemed too thick with danger.

At one point, they passed a large, nightmarish hound with elongated limbs and a mouth that seemed to stretch endlessly. Its presence sent chills through the group, but they moved past it quickly, the spectral horses gliding silently through the foggy streets.

As they approached Southshore, the view into the district was blocked by large iron gates, open just enough for a large man- or Half-Orc, to walk through.

But before they could reach them, a disturbing sound filled the air—the unmistakable buzzing, a deep and resonant hum that reverberated through their bones. It grew louder with every second, the air itself seeming to thrum with its intensity. And then, emerging from the swirling fog, an enormous cloud of teeth and tentacles appeared—an abomination that defied reason, its presence oppressive and maddening.

Rose’s eyes darkened as she turned her horse around, facing the monster with grim determination. “This is where we part ways.”

Byron and Calli thanked her for all her help, eliciting a sharp nod from the warrior. “Look after him,” she said looking at Nightingale. Then without hesitation, she charged toward the creature, her spectral horse galloping full force toward the nightmare of teeth and tentacles, drawing a sword and holding it high.

Nightingale, still reeling, cast one last pained glance in her direction. His breath hitched and he turned back again before he could witness her reach her quarry. He didn’t need to see what would might become of her all over again. He dismounted and followed the others as they ran on foot into South Shore.

As the Flowers closed the gates behind them, they found themselves enveloped in a peaceful, warm atmosphere, a stark contrast to the turmoil they had just left. In the centre of this serene space stood a large fountain, one Calli and Gale knew did not exist in real life, where Trevor was contently fishing. Beside him, Benni—the Halfling who had been Trevor’s closest companion in their youth—spotted Byron and called out excitedly. He scampered over, leaping onto the barbarian’s back with a playful shout, “Got any wraps?” Byron grinned, and as if on cue, Benni produced some wraps from his pack, tossing flower petals into the air—his signature celebration whenever Byron fought in the pits. Byron sat next to Trevor on the fountain and let the small man get to work wrapping up his hands.

While the joyful reunion occurred next to him, Trevor appeared oblivious, his focus solely on his fishing rod.

Shiv approached Trevor, staring at him in silence. This was an embodiment of his alter ego, a manifestation of everything he both hated, despised and desired. 

The Flowers looked on. How was this possible? To see Trevor and Shiv in the ‘flesh’ at the same time was unsettling.

With Shiv preoccupied, Calli let the others in on what Rose had told her about healing the rift.

Nightingale heard a noise behind them and his eyes were drawn back to the gates. The outer edges began to crumble and taint, the very essence of their structure unraveling. He warned the party and turned, rapier at the ready. Taylan stood with him, unsure what else he could do to help the scene unfolding.

Calli joined the men at the fountain and tried starting a conversation with Benni, mentioning she’d heard such good things, but wondered what happened that last night that had upset Trevor so badly. Benni frowned and shook his head, saying he didn’t like talking about it. With time of the essence, she attempted a Charm Person spell, but it failed to take hold.

Byron tried a different tactic, “Now, there’s a fight coming and you’re my man, but you need to tell me what’s going on so I know what I’m up against.” Benni set his shoulders and nodded, pulling Byron away from Calli to talk as he gave her a glare.

Calli instead tried engaging Trevor and Shiv in conversation. Shiv just stared daggers at his alter-ego. Trevor said he wasn’t sure what they were all so upset about, it was nice where they were, the fishing was good, and Benni had been making him laugh. But something dark flashed across his mind as he said Benni’s name, and the darkness at the gate seemed to grow a bit stronger.

Benni explained in hushed tones to Byron how Gaedren had ordered him to be horrible to Trevor. He didn’t like to do it, but he was so afraid of Gaedren. One day he asked him to start hitting Trevor, and that was when Shiv appeared. Byron asked how he had died, and Benni confirmed it had been a star beast, but that because it had been Shiv there when it happened he didn’t think Trevor ever knew for sure and blamed himself. He swore that he’d apologised when Trevor first arrived in the dark world. “But Trevor forgave me, and it’s been great ever since!”

Byron returned to the group, filling the others in. The consensus seemed to be that it was Shiv who still needed to come to terms with what Benni had done under Gaedren’s orders. Benni apologized again, but Shiv refused to accept it. He denied it ever happened, and said the only issue was Trevor.

A confrontation began to brew as Trevor and Shiv exchanged words, with Shiv blaming Trevor for his current existence. In typical diplomatic fashion, Trevor attempted to soothe the barbarian, but his words fell on deaf ears. Each time Shiv made his accusations, the walls of their sanctuary crumbled further. He raised his ax as if to attack his other self, but Byron got in the way. They notice that when Shiv spoke to Byron asking for his help to end it, the gates didn’t react.

Calli tried again to appeal to Shiv’s emotions. She said what had happened to him and Trevor had been horrible, and neither of them deserved it, but they shouldn’t take it out on each other. When it didn’t work, she softly asked Byron how they could get him to understand he has friends now, he could trust us.

The monstrous presence loomed at the gates, swarming insects began leaking in through the cracks that had formed, and Taylan acted quickly, casting a fireball that incinerated thousands of the bugs crawling around it. Nightingale followed suit with his own spell, but still, the beast drew closer. As enough of the gate fell away it revealed the monster looked like a giant Gaedren Lamm.

Behind the encroaching monster, the city of Korvosa began to dissolve, its buildings and streets fading into nothingness, as if reality itself was unraveling. Gale and Taylan could see the vanishing city was being absorbed into Lamm, solidifying him further. Calli, her sharp mind racing, pieced together the terrible truth: both Trevor and Shiv’s minds were collapsing, and soon there would be nothing left of either of them. The tension between their shared identity was tearing everything apart.

Gaedren’s presence gave Byron an idea. He turned Shiv away from Trevor and brought his attention to the gate. “There’s a big fuckoff bastard out there who’s the real cause of our problems, and I want to help you take him down.”

Shiv’s gaze looked up at the ugly mug of the old man who’d terrorized them all and he nodded, “I’ve always hated that guy.”

Calli understood then what Byron was doing: the way to save Shiv wasn’t to fight for him, but to stand by him.

Without hesitation, Calli took a position behind them, saying to Shiv. “We’re with you,” her voice steady and resolute. One by one, the Flowers rallied around the chaotic barbarian, pledging their support. They weren’t just ready to fight—they were ready to fight on his side.

Shiv stood frozen, disbelief flickering in his eyes as the words sank in. This was something he had never experienced before: loyalty, trust, and friendship. The very thing that had eluded him all his life. His usual smirk faltered, replaced by something far deeper—a look of quiet vulnerability. These people, the Flowers, were standing with him. For the first time, he wasn’t fighting alone.

Looking at their backs turned to him, Trevor watched in silence. The sight of Shiv surrounded by his friends cut deep, and a sense of betrayal washed over him. Years ago, Benni had turned on him, and now it felt like his friends had too. Trevor’s shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head, tears forming in his eyes. This was the final blow—the moment he knew he’d lost them forever.

But as the tears welled up, Trevor had a sudden epiphany. His friends weren’t abandoning him—they were just accepting Shiv, just as they had accepted him. They were fighting to protect both sides of the same soul. The pain began to subside as he realized the truth. His heart, once heavy with grief, lightened. It wasn’t betrayal—it was understanding.

Trevor lifted his head and smiled. Even as he stepped back, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. This wasn’t the end, but a new beginning.

The Flowers heard a splash behind them, and when they turned to look Trevor was gone, his fishing pole fallen into the water. They hoped that meant it had worked, and returned their focus to the battle at hand. As the Flowers charged toward the monstrous beast, their determination unshaken, the air crackled with energy. In that moment, a blinding flash of light enveloped them all. The dark world shattered, marking the end of one reality and the beginning of another.

———————5————————

“ -going to start.” They returned seemingly to the exact moment they had left, hearing the rest of the sentence Otto had begun before they were transported.

The Flowers stood in stunned silence as they returned to the real world, still reeling from the chaotic events that had transpired in the Realm of Madness. The air in the room felt heavy with the weight of what they had done—the choice they had made. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, but their attention was quickly drawn to the Half-Orc, who stood at the centre of the room. 

The barbarian stood and took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly, as if he was learning how to breathe again. He glanced down at his hands, flexing them slowly as if testing the reality of his existence. The Flowers could see that he was somehow different. The barbarian was no longer the wild and reckless force of chaos they had known. His eyes, always sharp with bloodlust and fury, were now clouded with something else—something they had never seen before: contemplation. The chaotic energy that had always surrounded him seemed muted, as if something fundamental within him had shifted. The Half-Orc surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his comrades. They could see a jagged scar stretched across his face, marking him in a way that felt deeper than the physical wound.

Byron looked anxiously on. Taylan, still feeling the power of his spells pulsing in his veins, kept his gaze fixed on the new barbarian, watching him closely. Nightingale moved apart from the group, still processing the loss of Rose, an old wound ripped open anew. Calli shifted uncomfortably, torn between curiosity over what their companion would say and wanting to take Nightingale somewhere quiet to comfort him.

As the person once known as Trevor or Shiv’s eyes met each of theirs, there was a long silence. Then, in a voice that was slow and deliberate, the Half Orc spoke.

To be continued