The air in the room is thick with dread as Maitara pushes herself up from the floor, her voice still shaking.
Hythesion kneels beside her to check her pulse – steady, but she's pale as moonlight. He helps her stand, then turns to Geth and Akmenos, his jaw tight.
"We gonna go now." Hythesion stated.
No one argues. They sling their packs over their shoulders, Geth re-sheathing his swords while Akmenos wipes the last traces of ale from his lips. Together, they hurry down the narrow stairs and burst through the inn's heavy doors into Neverwinter's festival-lit streets.
The moment they step outside, the tension that's been building snaps. Geth spins on Akmenos, his scaled face twisted with anger.
"You were supposed to be keeping watch! Off drinking while someone broke into our room – how could you let this happen?"Geth shouted at Akmenos.
Akmenos's amber eyes flash hot. "Says the guy who ran off to gawk at a puny talent show instead of sticking with the group!"
"Don't you dare call their talent 'puny'!" Geth's hand flies to his sword hilts, pulls out his two great swords. "You wanna go, bro?" I should've known better than to trust a tiefling – always thinking of yourselves first!"
Akmenos drops into a fighting stance, cracking his knuckles. "A hero ready to fight in a senseless duel? Hahaha – hypocrite!"
"It's not senseless!" Geth growls, taking a step forward. "You failed – this fight's is your punishment, this fight is valid!"
Hythesion moves between them, holding up both hands. "Enough! We're wasting time–"
But they're already charging at each other – swords glinting, fists raised – when Maitara walks casually into the middle, raising her hands at their direction, her voice dropping into a deep, monstrous rumble, then chants..
"ULHA MIHATARA!"
Inky black shadow explodes from her palms, slamming into Geth and Akmenos with crushing force. Geth slams into the inn's stone wall, his swords clattering to the ground. Akmenos tumbles across the street and crashes into a wooden fruit cart, sending apples rolling everywhere.
Maitara stands frozen, her eyes gone completely black – endless voids that seem to drink the festival light around her. Then she staggers, dropping to her knees and gasping for breath.
"Maitara!" Hythesion rushes to her side as her eyes slowly fade back to warm brown. She looks up at the two men picking themselves up and shouts, raw with emotion:
"It's my fault! I was supposed to guard the pendant and I was weak! Blame me if you have to – but please for God's sake, listen to Hythesion!"
Silence falls, broken only by distant drums and laughter from the festival. Hythesion helps Maitara to her feet, then raises one hand – pale blue force magic wraps around Geth and Akmenos, gently drawing them closer.
"We lost the pendant," Hythesion says, his voice firm and steady. "Fighting each other won't bring it back. We have until dawn to find it before whoever took it can escape the city. Either you stop this nonsense and help, or I'll take you both down myself – and trust me, I will."
Geth sheathes his swords, his head bowed. Akmenos runs a hand through his dark hair, shame written across his face. Both nod.
"Good," Hythesion says, pulling three polished sending stones from his pack. "We split up. Geth, go west to the Church District. Look for cloaked figures, hidden spots. Akmenos, go east to the markets and alleyways. Press the stone to your chest to speak – do not engage, just call me."
They take the stones and head off in their directions. Hythesion turns to Maitara, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You okay to move? Earlier, I saw a cloaked figure heading south toward the river docks."
Maitara nods, straightening her shoulders. "I'm fine… I think. Gannurim spoke through me. I need to learn to control him."
They weave through the crowded streets, where festival lanterns hang like stars from every building – shaped like flowers, dragons, and suns, casting dancing shadows across cobblestones slick with spilled wine and melted sugar. Fire-breathers paint the night orange and gold, while vendors sell glowing candies that make kids' faces shine. Finding one cloaked figure in all this chaos feels impossible.
Hythesion's sending stone grows warm. He presses it to his chest – but instead of Geth's voice, a cold, unfamiliar one crackles through:
"If you want the lizardman alive, come to St. Bernard's Church – westerrn district. No authorities, no backup. He dies if you disobey."
The connection cuts off.
"Who was that?" Maitara asks, her hand flying to her spell pouch.
Hythesion shakes his head, already turning back. "I don't know. We need Akmenos first." He speaks into his stone: "Akmenos – meet us at the inn now. Things just got worse."
Ten minutes later, they hurry through Neverwinter's quiet northern streets – a stark contrast to the festival's chaos. Here, only small candles in church windows break the darkness, casting soft golden pools on empty cobblestones. The air smells of incense and damp earth, and even the wind is still.
St. Bernard's Church rises before them – gray stone walls carved with angels and dragons, spires reaching toward the moon. Not a sound echoes from it.
"Geth!" Hythesion calls out, his voice bouncing off stone. "Geth, where are you?"
The heavy doors swing open slowly, creaking on ancient hinges. They went inside, and see only a single row of candles lights the aisle. At the front, twenty figures wrapped in black cloaks stand in a circle – their forms seem to absorb light, leaving only shadows. Geth lies unconscious on the marble floor, held up by two of them.
"Stop right there," a deep voice rumbles as the leader steps forward, his face hidden by his hood. "Hand over the pendant, and your friend lives."
Hythesion steps forward, hands raised. "You already have it – we were here to get it back."
The leader laughs, a sound like grinding stone. "Lies. Give us what we want, or you all die here."
Before Hythesion can respond, Akmenos moves – fast as lightning, he throws a punch straight at the leader. But his fist passes right through the shadow figure, who then copies his movement perfectly and slams a solid blow into Akmenos's gut, sending him crashing into a pew.
Hythesion unleashes a bolt of lightning, but the shadows scatter like smoke and reform behind him, pinning him down to the floor. Maitara sends arcs of purple magic toward them – but the shadows just drink it in, pressing her to the floor.
The leader raises an obsidian knife that glints with unnatural light, pressing its tip to Hythesion's throat. "Last chance. The pendant – or death."
"I told you," Hythesion says steadily. "We don't have it."
"Then you all die."
The knife descends – and a clear flute note cuts through the church like sunlight.
Hythesion almost lose hope and had thought, "Is this the end? Is this really how all of this ends? To think Kaylla is right, I am a failure! " He keeps thinking, almost his mind breaks.
Until..a melody played, so pure and sharp, making the shadow figures stumble and flicker like candles in wind.
All eyes turn to a dark figure right at the church's fromt door, playing slowly. As the last note fades, he steps into the candlelight – it's the bard from the inn.
He wears supple brown leather armor stitched with silver thread, a white silk scarf tied at his neck. Worn boots cover his feet, and at his hip hang a golden lute and a rapier with a musical note pommel. Sun-streaked brown hair falls past his shoulders, and his eyes are warm honey.
"Who are you?" the shadow leader snarls.
The bard smiles, tucking his flute away. "Your worst melody."
He moves like he's dancing – dodging shadow figures with grace, striking with his rapier in fluid movements that leave trails of silver light. He weaves music into every move – a lively tune that makes shadows shrink, a deep rhythm that sends shockwaves through the floor, shattering their forms.
One by one, the twenty Spectres dissolve into smoke. The leader tries to flee, but the bard plays a sharp note that makes him scream and vanish.
In less than a minute, it's over. He walks to Geth, pressing healing salve to his forehead, then pulls the familiar ornate box from his cloak and tosses it to Hythesion – the pendant glints safely inside.
Akmenos pushes himself up, rubbing his gut. Maitara stands slowly, awe in her eyes.
"I know you have questions," the bard says calmly. "I'm Ethan P. Songweaver – Council Knight. I've been tracking the Spectres, and heard they're targeting something," he pointed at the box Hythesion was holding. "That one.. "
Hythesion clutches the box tight, relief washing over him – then confusion sets in. He looks up at Ethan, brow furrowed.
"How did you even know about the pendant?" Hythesion asked.