Chapter 1

She woke up with the taste of blood in her mouth. She was in a dry, dark stone chamber, her hands tied together, and her body sore and beaten. A sudden sting of pain in her side reminded her of the Thull woman and the battle. Instinctively, she reached for her magic within, but nothing happened. Only the small, tight collar on her neck vibrated slightly. Of course! They knew who she was, and had taken away her magic ... for now at least. They were much better prepared than she anticipated.

Her attempt to reach her magic had been costly. She almost lost consciousness as the gash in her side gushed more blood. Her vision faded, and she desperately clung to something, anything. She tried to remember—the infernal machine, the wizard, the woman, the red moon, Otohan Thull ... and a single black feather falling down into the pit ... then there was only light and darkness. She tried to put these images in order, to remember more, but she was too weak, and before long, darkness took her.

She woke up to the sound of footsteps, slowly descending towards her. Faint light approached with them. After a while, two shapes emerged. One, a masculine figure in dark grey robes, carried a leather bag, while the other, feminine, was Otohan Thull in her tight leather armor with a sword at her side. She moved like a panther as she squatted next to Keyleth and brushed away some red hair from her face.

“It’s a real pity we had to meet like this, Tempest,” she said, almost whispering. Then turning to the man added, “Will she make it?”

Keyleth couldn’t see his face, but according to the voice, he could be in his 50s, possibly human or half-elf. “I don’t know,” he said. “I would have to take a look at that wound first.” His voice was coarse, like sandpaper.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” said Otohan.

“Are you sure, mistress? She tried to stop us!” the man’s words were cut short by a single glance from Thull.

“As you wish,” he sighed. “Help me strip her so I can take a look.”

A shiver ran down Keyleth’s spine. She wanted to fight, to flee, to scream ... but there was nothing she could do as the man unbuckled her torn, bloodied leather armor. She wanted to shapeshift into a mouse and run away to squeeze under any door, hide in any corner, but the collar prevented her. All she could do was lie there, half-conscious as Otohan slowly undid her binds and the man took out scissors. There was no strength left in her body.

She lay there and felt the man slowly and carefully cutting the cloth under her armor. She shivered as his rough fingers turned her to the side to take a better look at her wound.

“I can do something, but I am not sure it will be enough,” the man pondered as he examined the wound closely. “Magic would be ideal. I can clean the wound, but I don’t know if any of her organs are hurt. A good healer, or at least a strong enough potion, should do the trick, though.”

“Clean it, I will find a potion,” ordered Thull.

“Is it worth it?” the man hesitated.

“Don’t ever question me again,” said Thull and rushed away into the darkness and up the stairs.

Keyleth was only barely holding on to consciousness. She felt a moist sponge gently rubbing and cleaning the area around her wound. Another shiver coursed through her, this time from the cold water or perhaps from the amount of blood she had already lost. The wound must have opened again because the man silently cursed under his breath and started rummaging in his bag. Before long, she felt pressure on the wound and sharp pain, and she passed into darkness once more.