Greywind supported the swaying Elara, his voice a flat chord of pragmatic information. "My name is Greywind. Dragnar at The Fire Place sent me. He was concerned for your fate. I am here to dismantle their ritual and extract you, if such a thing remains possible."
Elara offered a weary nod, her sharp eyes dissecting him with the practiced scrutiny of a scholar. "Dragnar... yes. A man of honor. Thank you. I am Elara, of Candlekeep." she inhaled sharply, steadying her nerves. "They took me three weeks ago. Althea... she craved my knowledge of the elder rites. I feigned cooperation, fed her falsehoods, but she saw through the veil. Then she... she planted something in my dreams. I was a prisoner in the same recurring nightmare."
She gazed at the pulsating Sandheart Gem. "That is 'The Heart.' The nexus of their cult. You must claim it. But be warned carrying it will make you a beacon for Althea and for... the King himself."
"She speaks with a naked honesty, and she understands the stakes," Jannis whispered, her tone carrying a rare note of respect. "She does not hide the infection perhaps she does not even grasp its full depth. But she is useful."
Elara steadied herself against the altar. "The New Moon ritual... it will occur in the Chamber of the Sleeping Heart at the end of the central path. There is the Door of the Last Breath, which must be unsealed with the Song of the West Wind. But with the Heart in your possession... you might bypass the chant, or at least dull the lethality of the threshold."
"Althea will be there with four of her most fanatical disciples. They intend to sacrifice three captives to 'open the way.' If they succeed, they won't just wake a fragment of the King they will tear open a sand-portal that will pull this entire region into an eternal dream-waste."
She looked at Greywind with a burning intensity. "We must stop them. But I... I am no warrior. I can aid you with lore, with traps, with the deciphering of sigils... but I cannot stand in the line of battle."
Greywind nodded. "Fine. I take the stone, then we weave a plan." He reached out and wrenched the Sandheart Gem from its slot. As it came free, its light dimmed to a low, rhythmic throb. The crystal chamber surrendered its azure glow, plunging into a gloom lit only by Greywind's torch.
They sat upon a flat stone to deliberate. "You know the layout," Greywind said. "What do we face? Traps? Althea's weaknesses? And if you cannot fight, how do you serve when I strike?"
Elara opened her pocket journal, revealing a series of sketches. "The Chamber of the Sleeping Heart is a vast, circular vault. At its center lies a black stone altar for the sacrifices. Behind it stands the Door of the Last Breath an archway of carven stone where darkness and sand flow like a river. Althea will stand between the altar and that door."
"The Traps: The chamber itself is stable, but the passage leading to it the Hall of Whispering Sands is treacherous. The sand there is hypersensitive to sound. Combat there will conjure a Sand Vortex that devours everything in its path. That is why the cultists move in absolute silence. You must cull them swiftly and silently, or lure them elsewhere."
"Althea's Weakness: Her magic is potent, but her focus is brittle. The ritual demands total concentration. If you disrupt her with a sudden strike, a roar of sound, or by liberating a captive the backlash could be ruinous for her. Also... she is possessive of the Gem. If she sees you holding it, she may lose all reason, focusing entirely on you to the exclusion of the ritual."
"A sound plan," Jannis commented. "But let me add: do not trust the sand in that room. Everything is mutable. And... beware the King. Even in sleep, he possesses the reflexes of a cornered god."
Greywind opted for deception. "We lure them out. Can you cause a distraction here, Elara? Without being caught?"
Elara's eyes flared with resolve. "I can. I will use the loose crystals. If dropped in a specific sequence, the resonance will sound like heavy footsteps. It will draw them."
"Excellent. But let me refine the lure," Jannis interjected, suddenly vibrant. "I can bolster your Minor Illusion, Greywind. Create the sound of panicked breathing or stumbling steps from the Path of the Sand's Ear. I will weave a thread of pure terror into it, making it feel like a wounded intruder. They will send a scout. Then, you strike from the shadows of the middle path."
Elara agreed and vanished into the shadows of the altar. She watched Greywind "speaking" to the void with a look of mounting concern. "Greywind," she whispered, "I know not what you converse with... but here, the unseen is often the most lethal. Is it your patron? Or something else?"
"She is clever," Jannis chuckled. "And bold enough to ask. Tell her, Greywind. Or... let me introduce myself."
"You wish to manifest?" Greywind thought. "Very well."
Before Elara could breathe, the air between them began to warp and distort. The temperature plummeted, and the light of the torch seemed to drain toward a single point. A projection took form not a physical body, but a psychic manifestation of terrifying beauty.
The Manifestation of Jannis: Seven feet of elegant, lethal humanoid form. Her skin was a pale pink, etched with pulsing veins of dark violet. Her face was a masterwork of high cheekbones and eyes with cracked, glowing pupils that burned like cold blue fire. She was armored in polished black iron that clung to her curves like a second, sharper skin. Long, marble-white hair fell to her waist, and obsidian horns curved back from her temples like a diabolical crown.
"Elara of Candlekeep," Jannis's voice rang in Elara's mind and ears simultaneously, rich and commanding. "I am Jannis. The one who grants Greywind his edge. The one who savors his harvests. And the one who finds you... intriguing."
She leaned closer, her "face" inches from the frozen scholar. "The dream-seed in your mind... it is a pearl in the muck. Do not fear... I shall not pluck it. I merely wish to watch it bloom."
Elara was paralyzed, her eyes wide as she confronted a presence that defied her academic understanding. She trembled, caught between academic fascination and raw, primal terror.
"Enough, Jannis," Greywind snapped. "She's no use to us if she's catatonic."
Jannis vanished like smoke sucked back into his frame. "Hmph. You spoil the fun, Greywind. But a frozen fear is indeed useless. I only wished to give her... motivation."
Greywind sensed movement. "Wait. I hear them."
With a movement of practiced lethality, he slid from the gloom. He closed the distance behind a scout, his rapier driving with surgical precision into the side of the cultist's neck. The blade severed the throat. The man's eyes bulged, his hands clawing at the steel before he slumped.
The psychic surge from Jannis was sudden and sharp an electric shock of pleasure. "You gave no warning!" she groaned, sounding breathless. "But... it was effective. The surprise in his eyes... the sudden hollow. Do it again."
The body hit the floor with a thud.
"They will come to investigate," Jannis whispered. "Hide."
Two more approached. Greywind did not wait. He rose and unleashed an Eldritch Blast into the face of the first. The cultist's skull shattered like dry clay, and he fell lifeless.
"HAAAAAH~!" Jannis's climax was long and sensual this time. Greywind felt a phantom, rough tongue lick across his chest from the inside. In his mind's eye, he saw Jannis tossing her head back in ecstasy. "Personal... so personal..."
The final cultist turned in shock, his lungs filling for a scream. Greywind lunged. Instead of the blade, he brought the heavy pommel of his rapier down upon the man's temple with bone-crunching force. The cultist collapsed, unconscious but breathing.
Greywind dragged the body into the shadows, binding him with hempen rope and gagging him with a strip of cloth.
"Wake him," Jannis purred. "I want to hear the sound of his fear."
They brought Elara to the Entrance Chamber to face the captive. Greywind woke him with a brutal slap.
Elara leaned in, her voice cold. "Answer truthfully, and you might live. Scream, and you are ash. Understand?" The cultist nodded frantically.
The Revelations:
The Clock: The ritual begins when the moon hits its zenith. Tonight. Less than 12 hours remain.
The Captives: Held in a side chamber behind the main altar, guarded by two acolytes.
Althea's Anchor: She is magically tethered to the Sandheart Gem. Without it, or in the presence of a "false" chant, she suffers a psychic backlash.
The Backup: If the sacrifices fail, Althea will use anyone with a "sand-connection" including Elara.
"He hides a deeper layer of fear," Jannis whispered. "Ask about the 'Substitute.'"
When pressed, the cultist shivered. "Althea will use the nearest soul infected by the dream... the girl... the one with the seed..." He looked at Elara.
Jannis's voice became a pleading, sultry crawl. "Grey-Grey, my love... may I have this one? Slay him slowly... I want to taste the climax of his agony piece by piece..."
Greywind looked at the cultist, then at Elara. Without a word, he took a dagger and began to trace shallow, agonizing furrows into the captive's arms.
"AARGH!"
"Yes... just like that..." Jannis's groans filled Greywind's head. Each cut was a psychic penetration for her, a flow of heat and terror. Greywind continued with a mask of indifference thigh, shoulder, chest. The captive's screams turned to wet, labored whimpers.
"More... more... I am almost AH!"
With a final, swift movement, Greywind drew the blade across the man's throat, ending the terror.
"HAAAAAAAH !!!" Jannis's peak was a shattering tide, leaving her breathless and sated. Greywind felt a psychic "shudder" ripple through his own body, a lingering heat that flooded his senses.
Elara watched the scene with a face of pale revulsion. "Was that... torture truly necessary?" her voice was a thin, trembling line.
Greywind wiped the blade on the cultist's robe. "You don't want the answer to that."
Elara swallowed hard and looked away. She understood now that the bond between Greywind and his patron was a dark abyss one best left unplumbed.