Lysira (Forgotten Realms fanfiction)

[Kumbao]

I discovered writing as a hobby recently. Here are the first three chapters + glossary for my book. I would be very thankful for some feedback.

Chapter 1
Signs
1486 DR

Lysira opened her eyes. The sun had by now completely displaced the moon and cast cones of light into the room, in which tiny specks of dust danced. Was it really that late already? She looked beside her. Aria had her head resting on Lysira’s shoulder, snuggled up tight against her. She was still fast asleep. Lysira brushed a stray curl—one that had found its way into Aria’s open mouth—out of her face. Aria snored. Lysira had never seen a more beautiful creature.
She pulled her close. Aria wrapped an arm around her. Skin against skin. Breath on her neck. The pillow and blanket were so cozy. She felt sleep beckoning her back into its realm.
But it was no use. She groaned in frustration, kissed Aria on the forehead, and roused herself. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. They had partitioned off their section of the attic apartment with a heavy black curtain. Their clothes were scattered all over the floor. It was high time they tidied up again. She stood up and felt her stomach cramp. Ugh—it was that time of the month again. Lysira was convinced the universe had conspired against her. She would have to make a quick stop at Tiana’s on her way to work for her Zelvryn.
She gathered her clothes from the floor and began to get dressed.
“Hey, get up. It’s getting late. We’re going to be late for work.”
Aria lifted her head, curly hair was sticking out in every direction.
“No, I didn’t paint the warg on the outhouse, I swear,” she mumbled, and immediately fell back asleep.
Lysira paused for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she absolutely wanted to know what her partner was dreaming about right now—or if she definitely didn’t. She gave Aria’s foot—which was dangling from the bed—a light nudge. Aria started to awake once again. This time, she seemed truly up. She sat up, yawned, and scratched her head. Then she reached out her hands toward Lysira. Lysira took them. Aria pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her lips.
“Good morning,” she said. “What time is it?”
“If we still want to have breakfast, we need to get up right now. Otherwise, we’ll be late for work.”
Aria didn’t seem happy with that answer, but she roused herself nonetheless. Both of them got dressed and headed downstairs to the common room, where Tom had prepared breakfast.

They entered the taproom. The wooden breakfast table was laden with bread, cheese, sausage, and fish. Agneta had even managed to procure some kaeth to go with it. It smelled wonderful.
Agneta, Dirz'Ahn, and Tom were seated at the table. As they entered the room, Tom stood up abruptly and left. For some time now, he seemed to have an issue with Lysira. She didn't know why, but she was still too tired—and too annoyed—to dwell on it right now.
“Good morning, you two beauties. You both look completely knocked out,” said Agneta, her mouth full.
Lysira glanced at Aria and had to stifle a laugh. Agneta wasn't wrong. Aria really did look as if she were sleepwalking. Her hair was still sticking out in every direction. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. Her mouth hung slightly open.
Ara entered the room holding another pot of kaeth. Good—they were certainly going to need that now. Lysira took a seat.
Ara set the pot down in front of her, then looked over at Aria, who was still standing in the doorway, looking utterly sleep-addled. She draped an arm around Aria’s shoulders. “Someone is still off in dreamland.” Aria gave a slight nod, rested her head on Ara's shoulder and closed her eyes. Then Ara continued: “Lysira, don’t forget that you need to head to the market shortly. We’ve ordered two more kegs of beer. And we’ve put in an order for fresh fish from Brimbiel. Let’s just hope he caught something without tentacles or claws this time.”
Lysira wasn't exactly thrilled about that. Her stomach was still cramping.
“Alright. I just need to make a quick stop at Tiana’s place first,” she replied.
Ara simply nodded. “But please hurry back. Tom needs to start prepping the soup any minute now.” She took a quick sniff of Aria’s hair. “And *you*, young lady, are going to the bathhouse tonight.”
“Okay, Ara,” Aria replied, taking a seat next to Lysira.
Dirz'Ahn looked at Aria. “How long are you working today?” he asked.
Aria shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It depends on how busy it gets. Until sunset, at the very least.”
Agneta had secured Aria a job as a kitchen helper at the “Dancing Fairy”—a tavern in the Shimmering Docks. Aria had been working there for three months.
“Alright then. If it doesn’t get too late, I’d like to practice reading with you again this evening,” Dirz’Ahn concluded.
Aria showed no reaction. She simply stared blankly at the table. Aria was not good with mornings. Lysira poured her a cup of hot Kaeth, and they began their breakfast. When they were finished, Lysira heaved herself up and headed out onto the street with Aria. They kissed goodbye, and Lysira set off toward her Zelvryn.

Once she was done, she left Tiana’s house. Everything was fine. Tiana had given her some campsbane to take along. Lysira chewed on the root. She hated the taste; it was bitter and smelled of soil. But it helped. She could feel the cramps subsiding.
She was walking down Agneta’s Alley toward the marketplace when she saw Xar’lar and Kendo emerging from the bathhouse.
Both were former warriors from Menzoberranzan who, after their escape, had initially scraped out a living as adventurers roaming Faerûn. They were the first drow after Lysira’s parents to move into Agneta’s Alley. They had been training Lysira in drow martial arts since she was a little girl.
“Good morning, Lysira,” said Xar’lar.
Lysira waved to them both. As she walked past, Kendo suddenly feinted a strike. Lysira’s body reacted instantly; she knocked his hand aside and shifted into a defensive stance.
Kendo nodded approvingly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Very good. Footwork still a bit sloppy. But good posture. Just a little more training, and you’ll be ready for your first fight against a baby drider.”
Lysira tossed the meager remains of her campsbane right into his face.
“K’Zorvath,” she said with a faint smile, and continued on her way. Both men burst into loud laughter. Lysira clenched her fist, extended her pinky and index fingers, and gave the hand a few playful twists. The two men laughed even harder now. She liked them.

She made her way from Agneta’s Alley, passed through the gate, and strolled across the Shimmering Docks.
It was bustling with activity. Several merchant ships from all over Faerûn had docked, and goods were being loaded everywhere. She spotted a majestic caravelle from Waterdeep; its hull was clad in golden tiles, and a massive statue of Umberlee served as its figurehead. Docked right alongside it was a merchant vessel from Memnon; Lysira could catch the scent of exotic spices even against the wind.
Even Maztica had a ship docked there, and Tabaxi were running hectically across the docks in every direction. Aria always passed by the docks on her way to work. Lysira hoped the ship had already arrived by the time Aria passed through—Aria simply adored Tabaxi. Lysira couldn't help but smile a little at the thought; she always wondered how Aria would react if she ever actually met one in person.
She left the docks behind and followed the narrow alleys. By now, the Crampsbane had taken full effect; her cramps had vanished, and she felt her foul mood simply dissolve into thin air. Finally, the alleys opened out onto the marketplace. It was crowded—though not quite as bad as Lysira had feared. She was heading toward the beer stall when she heard a loud commotion. She glanced over, and instantly, her foul mood returned.

An older woman clad in blue robes was ranting loudly, gesticulating wildly with her hands. Sam—a member of the Flaming Fists—stood beside her, leaning on his halberd with one hand while resting the other on his hip. His lips were pursed into a thin, tight line.
And the target of this tirade was her brother. Elian stood beside the pair, attempting to look as innocent as humanly possible.
Lysira threw up her hands in exasperation and strode over to the trio. As she approached, she heard the old woman accusing Elian of theft. “Five gold. He stole five gold from me, that good-for-nothing. Thought I wouldn't notice.”
Lysira reached the scene of the crime. “Good morning, Sam,” she said, then looked over at her brother. “Elian,” she forced out.
A smile flickered across the wood elf’s face. “Sister dear. What a coincidence. This good lady here is accusing me of theft.” He gave an uncertain chuckle.
The old woman looked at Lysira in bewilderment. Sam spoke up. “Good morning, Lysira. You heard her. Elian denies everything.”
The old woman looked even more incensed now. “What is this? A Drow? What kind of game is being played here?”
Lysira took a deep breath, pretending she hadn't heard the remark. She looked at Elian, who was still watching her with an uncertain gaze. She could see in his eyes that he was guilty.
“Give her back the money. No arguments,” she said.
Elian hesitated for a moment, but the look in Lysira’s eyes made it clear that she meant business. He pulled out a small pouch.
“Aha!” the old woman shrieked, pointing at the pouch.
“This has to be a joke,” Sam groaned.
Lysira grabbed the pouch from Elian’s hand and handed it to the old woman.
“I am so sorry,” she said.
The old woman snatched the pouch from her brusquely.
“Arrest them! I want you to arrest them both!” the lady commanded. Lysira felt a surge of anger rise within her, but she held it back.
“I’ll handle it, Gerda. You’ve got your money back,” Sam replied, sounding annoyed. Lysira couldn’t blame him.
“It’s a scandal!” the old woman shrieked. “The Fists are in league with cutpurses and… Drow!” She spat out the last word as if it were an insult. For a split second that old anger flared up again in Lysira. But she suppressed it as quickly as it came.
Sam looked even more exasperated now. “I said I’d handle it, Gerda,” he said emphatically.
Gerda fell silent. Then she turned abruptly and stormed off, still grumbling indignantly. Sam looked at Lysira with a questioning gaze.
“What am I supposed to do now, Lysira? It can’t go on like this,” he said.
“I know. And thank you for your patience. Come by the Boot tonight. The beer’s on the house,” Lysira replied. That seemed to mollify Sam—at least somewhat. His face relaxed.
“I’m only doing this for you. I’m risking my job here.”
“I know. It won’t happen again.”
Sam hesitated for another brief moment, then looked at Elian with a serious expression. “And you’re banned from the market for the rest of the week. I swear, if I see you here anytime in the next few days, you’re going straight to Wyrm’s Rock.”
Elian placed a hand over his heart and executed a slight bow. “I am eternally in your debt,” he declared dramatically.
Sam shook his head. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said to Lysira. Then, turning to Elian: “And the two of us won’t be seeing each other again for the rest of the week. I mean it.”
He turned and melted back into the crowd.

Lysira and Elian stood side by side in silence for a moment; then Lysira gave him a smack on the back of the head. “You moron! Vha’nor—sometimes you drive me absolutely mad,” she snapped.
Elian gave her an apologetic look. She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose and let a moment pass. Then she met her brother’s eyes. He didn’t look good. But at least he didn’t look any worse than before. His eyes were still sunken deep within his skull, ringed by shadows, and his skin was disturbingly pale.
“I love you. Please, if you need anything at all, let me know. You know I’m here for you.” She pulled him into a hug. Then she continued: “Go see Kael. They’re still working on Kelemvor’s temple. They could use every pair of hands they can get. He pays well.”
Elian gave another bow. “I’m practically there already.”
He had just started to walk away when Lysira called out: “And don’t come back here this week. You heard Sam.”
Elian turned back, smiling: “Ti'neth vellyn, little sister. I’m not stupid,” he said, and vanished into the crowd. For a brief moment, she considered running after him and giving him a swift kick in the backside. The thought appealed to her.

Lysira groaned in frustration and scanned the marketplace. She took in the stalls and the various wares on display. Her gaze came to rest on a wooden crate. Stamped on the crate was a small symbol of a seagull. It belonged to a front company for the Zhentarim. She hoped it was nothing more than a legitimate shipment imported from Waterdeep. But with the Zhents, you never really knew.
Regardless. Her Guild days were over. And she certainly didn’t have the mental energy to worry about that right now. The beer wasn’t going to transport itself. For a second she wished she was a mage. One cantrip and those kegs would float themselves. Ah, well. At least it was free training. She turned around and headed toward the beer stall.
She took care of the paperwork and hoisted up the first of the two kegs. She lifted it with a single hand and carried it for a few paces. She could feel the incredulous stares. She liked that. After a few meters, however, it became too heavy; she shifted it to both hands and continued on her way toward “Agneta’s Boot.”

 

[Kumbao]

Chapter 2
Naked

Aria was nervous. For nearly a year now, she and Lysira had been visiting the underground bathhouse almost daily. The community had pooled their resources and built it beneath Tiana’s house. It was beautiful. It featured a sauna made of dark wood—a kind Aria had never seen before—as well as a large communal pool constructed from a type of sandstone. Natural light sources provided a dim yet pleasant illumination, casting a variety of colors throughout the space. The air was thick with the scents of oils and herbs.
Tonight, all the Drow ladies from Agneta’s Alley were in attendance. Only women were allowed to enter the bathhouse at night. And only women had wine and music. Much to Aria’s dismay, she was the only non-Drow present that evening, apart from the three female musicians hired by the community to play ancient Drow music. She felt lonely, even though Lysira was holding her hand.
She still hadn’t gotten used to the nudity. She felt so clumsy and ugly. All the Drow women were stunningly beautiful. They all possessed slender bodies and elegant features. Only Lysira stood out. She stood at 6’0” tall, had broad shoulders, muscular arms and a huge, black spider tattoo on her back. A lot of the other drow ladies had tattoos as well, but they were often just runes and symbols.
None of them looked older than twenty-five. Yet Aria knew that many of them were already five hundred years old—or even older. She felt dizzy just thinking about all the things these women must have seen and experienced.
Lysira moved through the room as if she owned it. And in a way, she did. Every month, all the Drow in the community donated a portion of their earnings to maintain the bathhouse. Even Aria contributed, yet she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong.
Lysira wore her long white hair loose—something she did only in the bathhouse. Unlike her hair, her eyebrows and eyelids were pitch-black.

They reached the pool. All the ladies were chatting quietly. The ambient soundscape felt simultaneously loud and soft—as if someone were whispering right behind her back.
Ara was already there, sitting in the pool with a glass of wine in her hand. She looked up.
“There you two are. Come sit down,” she invited them.
The pool was large enough to accommodate all ten women with ease. Two others were sitting in the sauna; they, too, were a couple, though they kept mostly to themselves. Lysira was the first to step into the pool, after which she helped Aria in. They settled onto the edge, and Aria pressed her body against Lysira, who wrapped an arm around her. Feeling Lysira close by brought Aria a measure of calm.

She could barely see in the darkness. The bathhouse had been designed for Drow eyes, not for human ones. Only Lysira and Vis also lacked the ability to see perfectly in the dark. Both had been born in Baldur’s Gate and were significantly taller than the other dark elves. Both had blue skin rather than gray, and violet eyes instead of red. Neither had any trouble with sunlight, though their darkvision was more limited. Even so, Lysira could see better in the dark than she herself could.

The water felt very pleasant. It was warm, and the oils and herbs went straight to Aria’s head. She felt a little tipsy.
Fittingly, Quilrae handed them each a goblet of wine. Quilrae had been a priestess of Lolth before she fled Menzoberranzan. She was always kind to Aria, yet she frightened her. She possessed an aura that Aria could never quite fathom—and the illumination from the crystals bathed her in a green light.
Aria could make out only her shadowy outline. But Quilrae was always recognizable. She was the only woman in the bathhouse with a shaved head. Her entire scalp was covered in tattoos of runes and symbols—even if, at that moment, they were hidden in the shadows before Aria’s eyes.
“Here. It’s Berduskan Dark. Vintage 1385. Older than the two of you combined.”
Aria accepted the goblet and took a sip. It was heavy and sweet. The aftertaste left a slight burning sensation in her throat. Aria was certain she couldn’t drink more than two glasses before she was completely drunk. Lysira took a deep draught.
“Damn. That’s really good. Where did you get it? Berduskan Dark is expensive,” she said.
Quilrae smiled slightly—or at least, Aria thought she was smiling. Her eyes were still not adjusted enough to the darkness.
“You just have to know whose bed you’re getting into.” She took a sip from her glass. The green light behind her pulsed briefly, causing Quilrae to vanish completely into the shadows for a split second.
“And whose bed is that?” asked Shriin. She was Vis’s mother—and always very curious. The first few times Aria had visited, she hadn’t stopped peppering her with questions.
“Names,” Quilrae replied, waving her hand dismissively. “He has money, and he has power. What do I care what his name is?”
Aria tried to distract herself, focusing instead on the musicians. The three of them were clad only in towels. An elf played the violin, a human played a gentle flute, and a tiefling played the yarting. The music was melancholic, yet beautiful. Aria knew that some of the pieces were a thousand years and older. Ara had explained to her that some of the compositions dated back to a time before the Drow had begun following Lolth. It comforted her to know that there was something in the room even older than the women surrounding her.
Moreover, she felt that the music gave her an understanding of the culture that words alone could not convey.
She rested her head on her partner’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and let the music carry her away. In her mind’s eye, she saw the caverns of the Underdark. She saw glowing crystals and towering stalagmites. She saw a river winding its way through the caves. She saw vast forests of giant mushrooms. She could smell them. Earthy and musty. They smelled wonderful. She saw ruins older than any living creature. She saw a vast lake, its ceiling so high that it vanished into the darkness. Small droplets of water fell from all directions. The sound of the dripping echoed off the cave walls, enveloping the dark lake in a constant melody. She understood why the women missed it so much.

She took another sip of her wine. Lysira smiled at her.
“Did you see the ship from Maztica? Tabaxi everywhere,” she said.
Aria had indeed seen them. Her heart skipped a beat just thinking about it. They were so cute. She smiled and nodded.
“We had slaves from Maztica. Very good hunters. And always well-groomed. Just a bit unpredictable at times,” Shriin said to her. She sat opposite Aria, and a purple light enveloped her and her daughter, Vis.
Lysira had told her that Shriin had belonged to one of the great noble houses in Menzoberranzan before she fled. What was it again? Right—Agrach Dyrr. And that she had given birth to Vis alone in a gutter, because she was too proud to accept help from other races. She impressed and frightened Aria in equal measure.
She wore her white hair piled high, making her silhouette appear larger than she actually was. Vis sat beside her. She was only slightly younger than Lysira, yet she mostly kept her distance from others. She always came across as very arrogant. She was even taller than Lysira but far more slender; her thin limbs made her shadow look like a spider.

Shriin handed them a bowl. It was a beautiful bowl, made of pure gold, with elaborate ornamentation. Inside were roasted spider legs.
Lysira seemed delighted. She reached in, stuffed three of the legs into her mouth, and said, “Aw, babe. You gotta try these. Shriin makes them herself. They’re so good.”
Aria hesitated. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to clearly discern the contents of the bowl. They smelled fantastic. The scent of garlic and a special oil from the Underdark hung in the air above them. But the sight unsettled her. The longer she stared at them, the more she began to believe they were moving. She looked uncertainly at Lysira.

Suddenly, all the women burst into laughter. Aria felt foolish. All she wanted was to go home.
“It’s okay. Everyone reacts just like you do,” said Ara.
She knew the sentiment was well-meaning. But it didn’t help. She wanted so badly to belong to the community—and she felt as though she had let them all down.
Her hand dug deep into Lysira’s thigh. The dark elf responded by pulling Aria even tighter against her. It nearly took Aria’s breath away, yet it felt comforting. She felt safe.
Lysira looked at her and pressed her forehead against hers. Aria began to calm down a little.

Lysira handed the bowl to Quinrae, who took out one of the spider legs and bit off the tip. Then she looked at Aria. “How is your Undercommon? I hope Lysira and Ara are practicing diligently with you.”
Aria didn’t know what to say. Lysira had taught her a few swear words, but that was about it. Ara had once said that Undercommon was now Lolth’s language—and that, for that very reason, she avoided it in her household as much as possible. But Aria would have liked to learn it; she thought it sounded beautiful.
She looked inquiringly at Lysira, but the latter merely sat there with raised eyebrows. Aria sensed that she expected her to answer for herself.
“Not really. I know a few insults, but not much else.”
Quinrae took another bite of the spider leg. “Then you definitely know everything that truly matters. However, should you ever wish to avoid turning all of Menzoberranzan directly against you, say: ‘Jivvin duskam lueth.’”
“What does that mean?” Aria asked.
“May the night embrace you,” said Lysira, before Quinrae could answer.
Aria concentrated. “Jivvin… duskam… lueth,” she repeated Quinrae’s words.
All the women in the pool applauded softly. “That was very good,” said Quinrae, clapping her hands. “Most people struggle with the pronunciation. But you sound as if you’ve never spoken anything else.”

Aria felt proud of herself. She felt Lysira kiss her on the head.
“Your pronunciation is way better than Lysira’s,” she heard a voice say from across the way. It belonged to Nimorel. She knew that Nimorel was an assassin in Menzoberranzan. A red light enveloped Nimorel, lending her a dangerous aura. Even through the darkness Aria could see the large scar across her left eye.
Lysira pouted slightly, formed a fist just above the water’s surface, and clenched it tight. Water splashed into Nimorel’s face. All the women laughed.
The assassin leaned forward slightly. “In Menzoberranzan, that would have been a declaration of war,” she sneered.
Lysira let go of Aria and leaned forward as well. “Just like in Baldur’s Gate,” she said with a confident smile.
The two women eyed each other for a moment. The red light behind Nimorel pulsed, causing her to vanish completely into shadow for a split second. When the light returned, the assassin was gone.

Lysira and Aria scanned the water's surface. But there was no sign of Nimorel.
She had not even made a sound or left a ripple behind when she submerged.
All the women fell silent.
Then Aria felt Lysira flinch. Her eyes went wide, and something dragged her beneath the water. Aria felt Lysira’s body scrape against her leg, and then—nothing.
All the women leaned forward, gazing at the water’s surface. Even the musicians had stopped playing and stepped up to the pool—just like the couple from the sauna.

A few more seconds passed, and then Lysira and Nimorel burst back to the surface in a massive splash. Lysira had Nimorel in a headlock. The assassin struggled desperately to break free, but she stood no chance.
“Give up!” Lysira roared, and began grinding her knuckles against Nimorel’s head. Nimorel tried to rear up one last time, but it was futile. She tapped Lysira on the back several times with the flat of her hand, and Aria’s partner released her grip.
Nimorel gasped for breath. “When did you get so strong? That was good. Really good.” She reached out her hand, but Lysira simply pulled her into a hug.
“Without your training, I wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Lysira replied.
Then she turned slightly, flexed her biceps, and shouted: “But who needs poisons when you’ve got these warhammers?”
For a moment, Aria felt a twinge of embarrassment—though at the same time, she felt a surge of pride in her beloved. Ara seemed to share at least her embarrassment. “By Selûne", she mumbled and dug her face into the palm of her own hand. Then she looked up at Lysira and shouted: “Boo!”.
She started splashing her daughter with water. Lysira laughed. Nimorel and some of the others joined in as well.
Suddenly Aria felt a connection to the women around her. A strange feeling, as if she belonged here. Not in the bathhouse. But here, with the moment. Aria felt their happiness. It was a warm feeling. Like an embrace. She felt them all. She felt Quilrae, who forgot all that she had lost for a few fleeting moments. She felt Ara, who was so proud of her daughter. She loved her very much. She felt Nimorel, who was also proud of who Lysira became. She even felt Vis. Her happiness was a twisted one. She envied Lysira for what she had. And she enjoyed torturing her with the water.
But Aria didn't care. They all were happy. That's all that mattered. She let herself fall and just joined in. Lysira shrieked, trying to shield herself from the water, but it was no use. “I give up!” she cried, yet the women kept right on going.
Aria felt a warmth rising within her. For the first time, she felt truly integrated. She was happy.

 

[Kumbao]

Chapter 3
Reunion

Lysira stood inside "Agneta's Boot," working on the beer lines. Something had gotten clogged up again.
It was still early in the morning. Lysira thought briefly about last night. Aria had been so exuberant when they left the bathhouse. Sure, Aria’s second glass of wine had certainly played a part. But Lysira had seen her girlfriend drunk before. This time was different. More honest. More liberated. The thought made Lysira happy.
Everyone else was out and about. Lysira was alone in the Boot. She loosened the line, but she had forgotten to shut off the pressure valve, and beer sprayed right into her face.
"K'Zorvath," she muttered, standing up to wipe her face. Her tummy still cramped. She felt miserable. She hated everybody.
She had just finished wiping the beer off her face when she heard a gravel voice behind her. "You still don't lock the door, Lizzie?"
Her heart skipped a beat. The clouds were gone. A gentle smile spread across Lysira’s face. She gripped the washcloth as tightly as she possibly could. Without turning around, she said, "What’s the point? You’d just kick it in anyway." She let another moment pass, then she turned around.
She could hardly believe it. There she stood. Odette. Her first real love.
Odette smiled at her—or at least, what Duergar considered a smile. They had last seen each other two years ago. She was bald, with gray skin and those same pale eyes in which Lysira had once drowned; and her pretty face had since gathered even more scars than Lysira remembered. Her thin, dark eyebrows gave her an aura as if she always knew something that you don't. The two gazed at each other for a long time. Then Lysira said, "It’s good to see you."

They sat at one of the tables. Lysira had poured both of them a beer. It was a dwarven beer from Mithral Hall. Odette's favorite.
“I heard you are in a relationship now”, Odette finally said.
Lysira raised her eyebrows and smiled: “Oh, so you are keeping tabs on me?”
Odette laughed slightly. “Of course I do"
There was a brief pause. Lysira took in Odette's sight. She had missed that bitch.
"How is the Guild these days?", Lysira asked.
"Quieter. Without you"
Lysira could see a flicker of sadness in Odette's eyes. Part of herself missed the Guild too.
"I heard Astele runs the Guild now".
"Yeah. Goes by Nine Fingers now".
Both chuckled. Lysira took a big swig from her cup, without losing eye contact with Odette.
When she was finished she asked: "So, what does ‘Nine Fingers’ want from me?"
Now it was Odette's time for a swig. Then she said: "The Zhents are creating presence in the Shimmering Docks".
Lysira nodded. "I saw one of their crates. And Nine Fingers wants me to convince them that it's a bad idea?"
"Us. She wants us to take care of it. She has to be careful. She can't risk open war with the Zhents".
"So she sends you, because she knows that I would never say no to you"
Odette nodded. "You know how she is. Plus, we were solid back then".
They were. They always got results. Lysira had to think about it for a moment. Astele was not wrong. Lysira would never refuse Odette. And the Zhents were a problem. An open war with the Guild would get the Fists involved. And before anyone knows it, it's the Guild Wars all over again. And the Steeps would have to pay the price. Aria would have to pay the price.
"You already know my answer", Lysira finally said.
"I do"
"So? Where do we start?"

Lysira stood before her wardrobe. It was now early evening. She had finished her tasks for the day. The pipeline had been repaired, and the warehouse was fully restocked. She had the rest of the evening off.
Odette and Lysira had arranged to meet at the Shimmering Docks. According to Odette’s informants, a few Zhents had rented out a small warehouse tucked away in one of the back courtyards. It was perfect. It meant fewer witnesses.
Lysira paused for a moment to reflect on what was about to happen. She wasn't happy about it. She had truly believed those days were behind her.
But a part of her was excited. A part of her looked forward to working with Odette again—to letting loose once more, to feeling the rush of adrenaline again. They had been damn good together back in the day.
But that was five years ago—five years since Lysira had left the Guild at the age of seventeen. Would they still function together with that same blind synchronicity they shared back then? There was only one way to find out.
She opened the wardrobe and pushed aside Aria’s clothes and her own. Hanging at the very back was ‘it’: her old uniform. She pulled it out and examined it.
It was her father’s old armor. Lysira had had to make a few alterations to get it to fit. It was a beautiful suit of armor, crafted from gray chitin and brown leather. It covered her torso and back, yet left her arms bare.
She shed her clothes and donned the armor. To complete the look, she wore fingerless gloves studded with small metal bosses across the back of the hand. A pair of brown leather trousers and heavy combat boots rounded out her outfit.
It still fit, though it was a bit snugger than before. Lysira had gained some muscle mass since she last wore it. But that wasn't the only thing that had changed. Her armor had hung right next to Aria’s clothes. And now, it smelled of her. It disoriented Lysira’s senses. For a moment, she felt guilty. She ought to have spoken with her before making such decisions.
But she didn’t want Aria to worry. Lysira had made her choice, and Aria wouldn’t be able to change her mind.
The thoughts grew too heavy. Lysira pushed them aside. It would do no good to reproach herself now. She had given her word to Odette—and Lysira kept her promises.
She draped a black cloak around her shoulders so that her parents wouldn’t ask any questions, should they happen to see her. She cracked her knuckles once and left the attic apartment.

Odette was already waiting for Lysira. She was always early—something Lysira greatly appreciated about her. Odette was wearing a leather jerkin that Lysira had never seen before. It was covered from top to bottom in scratches. Her fists were wrapped in white cloth, upon which faint pink stains shimmered.
It was dark by now. Music and laughter drifted from the taverns in the docks. Drunkards, travelers, sailors, and shady characters jostled one another everywhere.
“I see you’ve dressed up,” said Lysira.
“You too. You know how much I like it when you go sleeveless.”
Both laughed a little. Lysira felt that old energy rising within her again. Together, they slowly made their way toward the warehouse.
“How many are we expecting?”
Odette shrugged. “Somewhere between three and six. Ebbi is already at the warehouse.”
Lysira was surprised. Ebbi was also a member of the Guild.
“I thought Astele wanted to keep the Guild out of this as much as possible.”
“She does. Ebbi is just supposed to observe until we get there.”
Ebbi wasn't good for anything else, anyway. And even as a lookout, Ebbi was a third-rate choice at best. The gnome had a habit of letting everything distract him. Either Astele trusted that Odette and Lysira could handle any situation, or she simply didn't care what happened to her and Odette. With Astele, you could never be sure.
“You’re still training?” Odette asked as they made their way across the Shimmering Docks. It was a pleasant evening—warm, yet a light breeze offered a refreshing touch, carrying the scents of various taverns and kitchens.
“You know the answer,” Lysira said. She was slightly surprised; Odette wasn't usually one for this kind of small talk. She must have been more nervous than her expression let on.
Odette nodded. Lysira had been training with Cedric for two years—an old half-orc who ran a boxing gym in one of the dockside courtyards.
“Do you spar?” Odette asked.
“Of course. And working the doors keeps me from getting rusty, too.” She stopped and placed a hand on Odette’s upper arm. She felt Odette tremble slightly at the touch. Lysira understood. If Aria weren't in the picture, Odette would drive her wild, too. They had taken sex out of their relationship years ago, yet she felt just as drawn to her as she had five years back.
“It’s a bit late to be worrying about that now,” Lysira said.
Odette held her gaze a moment too long. Then, she took Lysira’s hand and gently removed it from her arm.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Your parents would set Nimorel on me,” she said in an exaggeratedly gruff tone. Duergar humor.
“Don’t worry, the two of them always liked you too much. But I’m pretty sure Nimorel has you on her hit list. You still owe her ten gold pieces.”
Both women laughed for a moment. Then Odette glanced toward a side street.
“We’re here. Are you ready?”
“Always, with you.”

Without another word, the two of them entered the side alley.
They made their way past various dilapidated brick buildings. The ambient noise of the Shimmering Docks gradually faded away. Only their footsteps echoed through the empty alleys.
As she walked by, Lysira noticed a partially torn advertising poster on one of the walls. It was an advertisement for a circus and depicted a Tabaxi juggling knives. For a second, Lysira thought of Aria again. But she pushed the thought aside as quickly as possible.
The alley grew increasingly narrow, and sources of light became scarce. It made no difference to Lysira. Finally, they arrived at the rear entrance of a warehouse.
Ebbi sat between a few trash cans, dressed as a vagrant. A beaming smile spread across his face.
“Lysira? How long has it been since we last saw each other? Five years?”
“Those were five great years, weren't they?”
Either the gnome didn't catch the dig, or he chose to ignore it; in any case, he kept smiling at Lysira.
"How many should we expect?" Odette asked directly.
“Just two. The cell is made up of a lot more people, though. Easily ten, maybe more. Or fewer. Who knows? I certainly don't,” he replied in his high-pitched voice.
Lysira and Odette exchanged a silent glance. Odette rolled her eyes slightly and said, “Thanks. You’ve been a huge help. We’ll take it from here.”
“Oooh, no problem at all. You know you can always count on me. If you need anything else...”
Odette cut him off. “Right—go quickly to Nine Fingers and tell her we’re here. You know how important that kind of information is to her.”
Ebbi straightened up abruptly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah—quick as the wind. Nine Fingers needs information. Like other people need bread. Or maggots. Depends on what you prefer, I suppose.” He strode briskly out of the alley.
Odette and Lysira watched him go for a moment.
“Some things never change,” Lysira said through gritted teeth.
“Let’s just go in,” Odette replied.
Lysira felt her heart begin to race and sweat form on the back of her neck and her hands. She hated having to admit to herself that she loved the feeling. But there was that old rush again—Odette beside her, and the sense that they could defeat a dragon.
Lysira nodded, and Odette opened the door to the warehouse.

All the lights were burning inside. Shelves blocked a clear view of the back area, though they could make out movement through a few gaps. They moved cautiously along the shelves until they had a clear line of sight.
They saw three men. Two of them were packing items—which looked like wine bottles—into crates. The third sat at a heavy oak table, writing in a ledger. His attire and refined features instantly told Lysira he was an accountant; there was no threat from him. The other two, however, were broader—not as broad as Lysira or Odette, but substantial enough to command respect.
Lysira and Odette exchanged a brief glance, then stepped out of hiding and walked openly toward the three men with an air of ownership, as if they paid the rent themselves. It took a moment for the men to notice them.
The accountant was the first to react. He looked up in surprise as Lysira and Odette continued to approach. "And who might you two be?" he asked, bewildered. The two warehouse workers had noticed them by now as well and positioned themselves on either side of him.
Odette waited until they reached the desk before answering. Lysira positioned herself to the right of the table, forming a triangle with the accountant and one of the warehouse workers. She had both of them within arm's reach. Perfect. Odette stepped up beside the other worker. The trap had snapped shut—they just didn't know it yet.
"You know why we're here," Odette said finally. "This is your one and only warning. No arguments. You’re leaving Baldur’s Gate. Today."
The accountant seemed as amused as he was confused. He started to reply, "And you really think you can..." but before he could finish the sentence, Lysira’s fist slammed into his face.
She felt his nose break as he fell backward over his chair. Lysira used the same arm movement to bring her elbow up and ram it into the warehouse worker's temple. The man staggered back but stayed on his feet. Lysira immediately followed up, driving her boot into his chest. He flew backward and crashed hard against a pillar.
For a brief moment, she considered turning around to check on Odette. She heard the sounds of a struggle behind her, but only a male voice was shouting; Odette had the situation under control. Lysira lunged at the worker by the pillar and pinned him against it with her left forearm. With her right arm, she repeatedly struck his solar plexus. After a few blows, she pulled her arm away, and the man slumped to the ground. She quickly grabbed an oil lamp from one of the shelves and smashed it against the back of his head. Hot oil ran over his scalp. He stopped moving.
Lysira turned and saw Odette standing with her back to her. Her opponent was dazed. Odette grabbed him around the waist. Lysira knew what was coming next; her body reacted instinctively. She ran toward them, leapt into the air, and tucked her knee against her chest just as Odette threw her opponent over her shoulder. He flew through the air and landed face-first against Lysira’s knee.
He hit the ground hard, striking the back of his head first. Lysira landed over him. She could see he was out cold. She punched him in the face one more time anyway, just for good measure.
The two women looked at each other. Odette was fine. They glanced around the warehouse one last time, then slowly walked toward the accountant.
He lay on the ground, clutching his nose. Blood gushed between his fingers. Lysira saw the panic in his eyes. Odette bent down over him and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his face close to hers.
“You’re out of here by tomorrow. Or we come back. With axes.” Then she slammed the man’s head against the floor. Lysira followed up with a hard kick to his stomach.
She could hear the man whimpering and sobbing—out of pain and fear. She could see that he had pissed himself.
For a fleeting moment, Lysira felt dirty. This man wasn’t cut out for this kind of violence. Everything about it felt wrong.
But she pushed the thought aside as quickly as she could. He was Zhent. He was in Baldur’s Gate. He should have known what that meant.
Slowly, Lysira and Odette made their way across the warehouse and left through the same door they had entered.

 

[Kumbao]

Glossary

Cities & Places:

Baldur's Gate = one of the largest port cities on the continent of Faerûn.
Steeps = District of Baldur's Gate.
Shimmering Docks = Docks close to the Steeps. They are the main docks of Baldur's Gate and a large source of its income.
Chionthar = River, that runs through Baldur's Gate and connects the city with the ocean
Underdark = large system of huge underground caves. They stretch all over Faerûn. Home to its own ecosystem.
Menzoberranzan = largest drow city in the Underdark. A matriarchal society


Races:

Drow = Elves that live underground in the Underdark. Also known as dark elves. Infamous for their cruel culture
Duergar = Dwarven race from the Underdark. They differ from usual dwarves in skin color (gray), size and build. Infamous for being cruel.
Wood Elf = exactly what you expect
Gnoll = hyena-like humanoid creatures. They are feared all over Faerûn for their ferocity

Language & Tradition:

Zelvryn = druidic ritual from the Underdark. They mix a drop of the menstrual blood with a special soil from the Underdark. Depending on the color the soil takes, they can see if the body is healthy.
Crampsbane = Underdark root. It eases cramps. No surprises here.
K'Zorvath = Insult in Undercommon. It means “eaten by a spider"
Ti'neth vellyn = Undercommon. It means “Relax".
Vha'nor = Undercommon. It means “I swear".
Usstan = Undercommon. It means "Let's go"
Corian = Undercommon. It means "Leader"
Ator = Undercommon. It means "Elder"

World:

Kaeth = Coffee
Mordayn = Drug
Agneta's Alley: Alley in the backstreets of the Steeps. Close to the Shimmering Docks. It consists of four larger multicomplexes and a big house with a tavern in the front. 18 drow, 4 humans, two elves and a halfling family of four live here as well. Agneta owns all the buildings. The community was not planned. Agneta just made good experiences with drow as tenants and the community grew by itself.
Agneta's Boot: A tavern, owned by Agneta and run by Ara. Agneta, Tom, Ara, Dirz'Ahn, Lysira and Aria all live above the tavern. Agneta and Tom have their own flats, while Lysira's family shares the attic.
The Community: the drow community grew naturally. The women agreed on a certain set of rules. No backstabbing among sisters. No Lolth. No Menzoberranzan politics. They are all they have left. All the drow understand that they need to protect their community.
Zhentarim Empire: criminal organisation from Waterdeep. In direct opposition to the Guild
Guild: criminal organisation from Baldurs Gate. In cold war with the Zhents.
Flaming Fists: Police

Gods:

Selûne = benevolent goddess of the Moon
Kelemvor = god of death
Lolth = spider goddess and primary godess of the drow in Menzoberranzan. Infamous for her cruelty
Bane = God of hatred
Dumathoin = dwarven God of Secrets and Protection
Chauntea = goddess of growth and fertility
Lliira = goddess of joy, music and love

Cast:

Lysira Shadowdew - our first protagonist. 22. Bouncer and errand girl in Agneta's Boot. Daughter of Ara and Dirz'Ahn. Born and raised in Baldur's Gate. Lives with Aria since one year. They date for six months.
Aria Songbloom - our second protagonist. 21. Lived isolated and unhappy until 20. Then she ran away. She met Lysira on the road and they fell for each other. She moved in with Lysira because she had nowhere else to go. She tries to navigate city life, which is overwhelming for her.
Odette - Duergar and Guild enforcer, 22. She was Lysiras partner in the Guild. She was also part of her teenage friends group.
Elian Shadowdew - Lysira's adopted brother. 23. He is a wood elf. He struggles with addiction.
Kael Nzinga - Human. Cleric of Kelemvor. 25. Ex-mercenary and still competing pit fight champion. He seeks absolution for his past sins. He was part of Lysiras teenage friends group
Sam - Flaming Fist officer. 23. He grew up in the same streets as Lysira. They know each other since they are kids.
Ara Shadowdew - Lysiras mother. 184. Ex priestess of Lolth. She is the manager of Agnetas Boot.
Dirz'Ahn Shadowdew - Lysira's father and bard in Agneta's Boot. 195.
Agneta - the human owner of the Alley. 72. She owns Agnetas Boot.
Nimorel - Drow Assassin. 224. Lives for 14 years in the Alley. She left Menzoberranzan to hunt for surface prey. Its easier and Nimorel is practical. She never liked Menzoberranzan. She might be an assassin, but she despises hunting people who cant defend themselves. She trained Lysira and Elian is stealth and martial arts when they were around 12 years old. Elian excelled in stealth, Lysira in martial arts.
Cedric - half orc. 59. Owns a boxing gym. Trains Lysira.
Tom - her nephew. 24. He is two years older than Lysira. He has a crush on her since years. She never noticed it.
Astele "Nine Fingers" Keene - human, 28. Leader of the Guild.
Ebbi - gnome, 57. Lookout and informant in the Guild.
Dorian - half elf, 22. Colleague and friend of Aria
Goram - dwarf, 89. Chef at the "Dancing Fairy". Arias boss.
Xar'lar & Kendo - former trainer of Lysira. 367 & 290. They trained Elian as well, but he had never even half of his sister's talent
Quilrae - ex-Lolth priestess. 542. She held power for nearly three hundred years. Fell victim to a plot and had to leave Menzoberranzan. In the alley since 8 years.
Shriin - former noble drow from Menzoberranzan. 578. She had to flee because she plotted against the wrong house. In the alley since 18 years
Vis - drow sorceress. 23 years old. Shriin's daughter. She is a loner.
Tiana - drow druid. 800. She performs druidic rituals from the Underdark that are not tied to Lolth. Unlike all the other drow, she didn't escape from Menzoberranzan or Lolth. She was never part of it. She lived in the wilds of Underdark for hundreds of years. When she grew old she realised that she had but one wish left. To experience a change. She had given mother nature all she had. She wanted to spend her final years among people. Under the stars. So she followed her childhood dream and went for Baldurs Gate, where she serves as nurse and midwife now.
The Accountant - human, 27. Member of the Zhentarim.
Edwin "The Vulture" Tzimisce - human, 78. Cleric of Bane and sellsword. Expert in illusion and mind control
Nadya Halström - human, 42. Norse Ranger and sellsword. She is accompanied by a huge mastiff
Tiny - shapeshifter, ?. Expert in infiltration and sellsword
Magnus "The Gentleman" Weihenbach - human, 32. pit fighter and sellsword. He is a dandy and expert in swordfights. He carries a rapier. Has bad pit history with Kael
Yargul - gnoll, 12, hunter and warrior. Mate of Ferra.
Ferra - gnoll, 9, hunter and warrior. Mate of Yargul.
Zelvryn Grimsblade - goblin, 38. Warrior and pack leader of Yargul and Ferra

 

[Cuddlebug]

Well, as someone who barely knows that "Baldurs Gate" is a Fantasy RPG, I think it's a solid written Fantasy Story. Without the Games background it was a bit confusing for me to tell what's a name, a race, a weapon or a place, but yeah, there's a glossar, fortunately... Go on, please, for now you got me wanting to know more.

 

[Kumbao]

Well, as someone who barely knows that "Baldurs Gate" is a Fantasy RPG, I think it's a solid written Fantasy Story. Without the Games background it was a bit confusing for me to tell what's a name, a race, a weapon or a place, but yeah, there's a glossar, fortunately... Go on, please, for now you got me wanting to know more.

Thank you so much, my first feedback

And you are right, I totally forgot to add information into the glossary that is common Forgotten Realms lore. I just added my own additions to the lore. I fixed it. I hope it makes it easier to follow the names, races and places.

I can upload the next three chapters as well. The book is nearly complete, so if you or anybody wants me to upload the rest, I'd love to. And thank you again for your kind words.

 

[Kumbao]

Chapter 4
Cinnamon

“Cold and frigid was the day I learned that to fail in cha…” Aria paused for a moment.
“Charming,” said Dirz'Ahn.
“…charming a better wizard was the most dangerous game of all,” Aria finished the sentence.
Dirz'Ahn nodded appreciatively. “That was really good. There’s nothing more I can teach you. From now on, you simply need practice. Please finish reading ‘Enchanted Me’. Let me know if you have any questions. But really, you should be able to manage on your own now.”
Aria felt proud. Just a year ago, she hadn't even been able to write her own name. And now she was reading books. Whole books. Without pictures. She still couldn't believe it.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, smiling at Dirz'Ahn.
“Don't mention it. I know how hard it is to learn to read. When we fled Menzoberranzan, I didn't know a single word of Common.”
Aria was surprised. Dirz'Ahn had a thick accent, but his sentences were perfect.
“How long do you live in Baldur’s Gate?” she asked.
Dirz’Ahn thought for a moment. “Twenty-two years. We fled when Ara was five months pregnant.”
Aria was curious but didn’t dare ask more. Dirz’Ahn seemed to notice. He smiled at Aria. “You want to know why?”
Aria nodded. Not just that. Everything. Fleeing through the Underdark while five months pregnant—what an incredible journey that must have been.
“Drow usually carry twins during pregnancy. But only one of the babies survives. Did you know that?” he explained.
Aria shook her head. The thought made her sad.
“Ara and I were always very unhappy in Menzoberranzan. For every beautiful thing there, there are three ugly ones. But we never had a real reason to flee. Until Ara became pregnant. It turned out Ara was carrying a single child. The matriarchs view that as a weakness. So they intended to sacrifice Lysira after she was born.”
Aria was shocked. She knew Menzoberranzan could be cruel; she didn't know the extent of that cruelty.
“That was the moment we knew we had to leave. I’d rather let a Bulette eat me than sacrifice my daughter to a bitch like Lolth.”
Aria was even more impressed by the two of them now.
“We wandered through the Underdark for two months. Until we reached the surface. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was night. And we saw stars for the first time.”
He looked out the window. Aria followed his gaze, and both of them looked for a moment at the sliver of sky visible above the rooftops. It was a cloudless night, and the stars were twinkling brightly.
“Ara had an amulet that an elderly gnome couple had given us during our escape. It guides its wearer to a safe place. It led us to Baldur’s Gate. Straight to Agneta’s Boot. Agneta saw that Ara was pregnant and gave us this attic apartment.”
Aria looked around the apartment. She had been living here with Lysira for a year now. But it felt as though she were seeing it for the first time.
“Agneta hired me as a bard. And two months later, your girlfriend was born.”
“What was she like as a baby?”
“Loud. Demanding. But always with a smile on her face. And very clingy. If it had been up to her, she would have spent the whole day in my arms. Back then, I had real muscles—almost as big as hers are now. Simply because she always wanted to be carried.”
Aria laughed. She tried to picture Lysira as a baby. But all she could see in her mind’s eye was a smaller version of her, sitting in Dirz’Ahn’s arms and barking orders at him.
“She was walking by nine months. Not just walking—running. From then on, we couldn’t take our eyes off her for a second. If there was a dangerous object anywhere, Lysira would find it.”
That made Aria laugh.
“So, not much has changed, then,” she said, which in turn made Dirz'Ahn laugh.
Dirz'Ahn looked at Aria for a long moment. Then he said, “I am so glad she found you. Lysira was… wild in her youth. We spent many a sleepless night worrying about her. About Elian, too, but mostly Lysira.” He traced circles on the table with his finger. “As a teenager, she took on jobs that reminded me too much of Menzoberranzan.”
Aria knew exactly what he was talking about. Lysira had told her about her time in the guild—how she had hurt people, how she had killed people. Aria still found it hard to picture Lysira that way. She had seen Lysira fight a few times, certainly, but that had always been during training or as part of her job as bouncer. Never out of hatred. Never with the intent to hurt anyone.
Aria toyed a little with ‘Enchanted Me’. Then she asked Dirz'Ahn, “Do you think people can change?”
Dirz'Ahn leaned forward slightly and placed his hands over Aria’s. They felt different from Lysira’s. Lysira’s hands were large and calloused; his were small and soft. Yet she could sense the same strength in both of them.
“A year ago, my daughter brought a frightened girl home. Do you remember?”
Aria remembered. She had been so terrified—so scared she’d felt like she might be sick. She nodded and looked into Dirz'Ahn’s eyes; there was such warmth in his gaze.
“And today, that frightened girl sits at my table, reads books, and works a demanding job in the kitchen. A girl who had known nothing but a small village is now a young woman living and working in a city like Baldur’s Gate.”
His words felt like an embrace. He was right; she herself was proof that people could change. She still sometimes felt inadequate, but at least she no longer believed everyone was staring and laughing at her. She smiled gratefully at Dirz'Ahn.
He stood up and moved to her side. “You are my daughter now, too.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Now I have to go downstairs and help Ara with the cleaning—or else face the wrath of a former priestess of Lolth.”
Aria laughed, and Dirz'Ahn left the apartment.

She closed the lid of the cookie tin as quietly as possible. She felt guilty, but they had smelled so delicious. She stood in the kitchen of Agneta’s Boot, arranging the cookies on a plate. Cinnamon cookies. She had never been able to resist the scent of cinnamon.
She picked up her tea and left the galley through the rear exit. She was walking up the creaking wooden stairs toward her attic apartment when she passed Dirz’Ahn’s violin.
Suddenly, she felt it again—that pull. It wasn’t unpleasant, but she felt a compulsion to touch the violin. As if they belonged together.
She turned slowly toward the instrument. She gazed at it for a moment, and the pull grew stronger. She wanted to lean into it. Let herself fall.
But then the memories came flooding back. Memories of the Vistani camp. Memories of running away from home. Memories of her mother.
Her thoughts darkened. Suddenly, the connection was gone; all she saw was an old violin.
She paused for a moment, then continued on her way upstairs

Aria sat in her armchair. They had set up a small reading nook consisting of two armchairs and a small table. The tea and cookies sat on the table in front of her.
She was still amazed that she could actually use the reading nook now. ‘Enchanted Me’ was incredibly boring. Thank goodness she had found another book in one of the bottom drawers of Lysira’s wardrobe. It was full of attractive people doing all sorts of naughty things to each other. Much more interesting.
She had just finished a chapter when she heard the apartment door open. She could tell from the footsteps that it was Lysira. But they sounded louder than usual. Heavier. The curtain was pushed aside, and Lysira stepped into their little sanctuary.
Their eyes met. Aria was still flustered from the book. She beamed at Lysira. “I had no idea people were into that sort of thing. A bear?” she said.
Lysira gave a faint smile. “Wait until they meet the mind flayer,” she replied.
Aria felt a strange sensation creep up her spine. She took a closer look at her partner. Only then did she notice that Lysira was wrapped in a dark cloak.
Aria closed the book and leaned back. “What’s wrong?” she asked Lysira.
“We need to talk,” the dark elf replied.
That strange sensation now seemed to place its hands on Aria’s shoulders. She felt her heart begin to pound.
Lysira threw back her cloak. Aria was surprised; she saw that Lysira was wearing her old armor. It suited her, yet it made Lysira look like a different person. She walked across the room and sat down opposite Aria.
“I messed up,” she said finally.
Aria was confused, but she said nothing; she wouldn't have known what to say. After a brief moment, Lysira continued.
“Odette came by the Boot today.”
Aria felt that sensation now wrap its hands around her throat. She didn't know much about Odette—only that she and Lysira had been partners during her time in the guild. Partners and lovers.
“She asked me to help her with a guild job. I agreed. We went to a warehouse. I injured three people. Badly.” Lysira lowered her gaze; Aria could see she was ashamed. Aria’s head was spinning; she didn't know how to process this information.
“Who are these people?” Aria finally asked.
“Zhentarim.”
Aria knew who the Zhentarim were. She knew they were in a cold war with the Guild.
“And why did you do it?” she asked.
“At first, I thought I did it to keep the Steeps from plunging into chaos. To protect you. But on the way home, I realized I’d been lying to myself. I did it because I could. Because I’m damn good at it. And because I missed it.”
She studied Lysira for a long moment. The armor, the gauntlets, the boots. Everything about her seemed different. Especially her arms. Those arms, which usually gave her such a sense of security, now looked like dangerous weapons.
She understood Lysira. She knew her well enough to realize that Lysira had genuinely convinced herself she was protecting the people around her. It was somewhat reassuring to know that part hadn't been a lie. But she also felt anger rising within her.
She hadn't intended to say anything, but her fury burst out. “I understand that you miss it. And I understand that you wanted to protect us. But next time, talk to me before you speak for me. Next time, involve me before you make decisions for both of us.”
Lysira nodded. “I promise.”
“And what about the Zhents? They’ll want revenge.”
Aria didn’t know much about the underworld, but she knew enough to know that a punch is always answered by an even harder one.
Yet Lysira just shook her head: “They don’t know who I am. To them, I’m just another drow. And I still have too many contacts in the guild. No one will betray me.”
Aria almost laughed. Her girlfriend was many things. Unassuming wasn’t one of them.
Still. The answer reassured Aria. But the most important question remained—the question whose answer Aria dreaded most.
“And what about Odette? Do you still love her?”
Lysira seemed to struggle for words. Finally, she gave up. “Yes.”
Aria felt her heart break. Felt her small world implode. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Did you kiss her?” she asked.
Lysira shook her head. “No. I don’t love her that way. Not the way I love you”.
Aria wanted so badly to believe her. She looked into Lysira’s eyes and saw nothing but the truth. But there was a voice in her head whispering that she wasn’t enough for Lysira. She needed proof—something she could feel. The time for words was over.
“Make love to me,” she said, with a tear running down her face.
Lysira’s eyes were wet, too. She slowly stood up and walked over to Aria. She slid one arm under Aria’s legs and the other behind her back. Then she lifted her gently up, as if she were light as a feather. Aria wrapped her arms around Lysira’s neck as she carried her to their bed. Aria buried her face in the nape of Lysira’s neck and was reminded once again of what the first thing she fell in love with was: her scent. She smelled of cinnamon.

 

[Kumbao]

Chapter 5
Chionthar

It was late afternoon when Lysira and Aria reached the top of the hill. From there, they had an incredible view of the entire city, Chionthar River, and the hills beyond.
She really didn't want to know what the Kelemvor congregation must have done to secure that building permit. The temple itself was slowly taking shape.
It was a massive, block-like structure made of granite, basalt, and dark mosaic. Small windows dotted the high walls.
For the moment, the temple was still shrouded in a web of cranes and scaffolding. Many workers were on site that day, and the sounds of hammering and knocking echoed from all directions.
Kael was not hard to spot. Standing two meters tall with a braided beard, he stood out wherever he went. He saw Lysira and Aria, waved, and walked over to them.
Aria and Lysira had had a rather frosty morning. Aria had struggled even more than usual to get out of bed and had been short-tempered to boot. However, they had made plans to meet Elian and Kael two days prior, and neither Aria nor Lysira wanted to let them down. They had promised to help at the construction site.
Kael hugged them both. "It’s good you’re finally here," he said in his deep voice. "Nothing but amateurs here. It’s high time some people arrived who actually listen."
They walked toward the temple together. The sun above their heads.
"I would have thought you’d put up a few more statues," Lysira said, gazing at the smooth granite stones rising up before her.
"Well, Kelemvor is the god of death, not of ostentation. If that’s what you’re looking for, the temple of Lliira isn’t far away."
Lysira still couldn't believe that Kael was now a proper cleric. Of all people, Kael—who used to wear nothing but the most expensive cloaks and hats. Now he stood before her in a white, dirt-stained linen shirt. How people change.
Elian stood by a large stone, trying to chisel out a corner. Lysira was not surprised that he was rather clumsy about it; his talents lay in more delicate work. It was Lysira who was supposed to lift the cabinet while cleaning, and Elian who picked the lock whenever they had forgotten the key again. Which happened more often than one might think.
He still didn't look well; his eyes were glassy, and small beads of sweat were forming on his brow—sweat that did not stem from physical exertion. Lysira could see that he was once again under the influence of Mordayn.
Nevertheless, he noticed Lysira and Aria. He came over to them, embraced them both, and Kael began assigning tasks to everyone.
Kael and Lysira stood in the shade beneath a lean-to. Lysira was shoveling cement, and Kael was turning the crank of a large mixer. Lysira enjoyed the sight of his arms. Sweat made the countless, colorful, and daring tattoos on his dark skin glisten, highlighting his massive biceps.
Kael’s biceps were bigger than hers. Lysira and Kael had always shared a friendly rivalry. For a while, Lysira had genuinely tried to match his level—adjusting her diet and increasing her training regimen. But it had all been to no avail. Though she would never admit it to Kael, she had abandoned that goal a few years back.
She could watch his arms all day. They were perfect. She took in the site a moment longer, then Kael stopped and straightened up. He pressed both hands against his lower back and grimaced.
“Let’s take a break,” he said.
Lysira didn’t mind. Even though she had the easier of the two jobs, she was starting to feel the weight of the shovel by now.
Lysira leaned on her shovel. “I heard you’ve got a fight next week?”
Kael nodded. He was still massaging his back.
“Yes, against Grok. No idea how much longer I can keep up with him. Not to mention all the young ones. Either they’re getting better and better, or I’m getting worse.”
For a moment, she thought back to the tavern in Beregost—to the time she and Kael had gotten into a brawl with Grok and his buddy. When she got sucker punched, beaten and for a second thought she might die. And Aria saved her life with her voice.
She glanced over at her. Elian and Aria were currently arguing heatedly about the correct orientation of a plank. Knowing the two of them, neither actually knew the right answer—yet both defended their position with gusto.
“You sound like an old man,” she said, without looking away from Aria.
Kael let a moment pass, then said, “I’m starting to feel like one.”
She knew all too well what he meant. She continued to watch the two squabbling figures before her. She would have to intervene soon. Suddenly, she felt tired.
“Elian is getting the Mordayn from me,” she heard Kael’s voice.
She turned her head and looked at him. The cleric was looking down at the ground.
“He gets it for free. I just don’t want him to have to do what he has to do to get money again.”
It didn’t surprise her. Kael felt partly responsible for Elian’s condition. He had been the first to introduce Elian to Mordayn.
She looked at her brother. He looked terrible. So gaunt. His beautiful brown hair, so lank.
“Kael, you know he would have started anyway. With or without you.”
The ghosts from the orphanage had never let go of Elian.
Kael lifted his head and looked at Lysira.
“Yeah, but I sold it to him for years. I profited from him.”
She thought back briefly to the past. Kael was three years older than her. Yet he was part of their circle. And back then, they had all used Mordayn and other stuff. Elian, Odette, Kael. Her. Even Sam, once or twice.
But for all of them, it was just partying. A distraction. For Elian, it took on a life of its own. No one noticed when he started to slide. She was his anchor back then. Yet her mind had been so full of the Guild, she had simply overlooked him. She understood why Kael blamed himself.
“We all ****ed up,” she said to Kael. She looked back at Elian. “And none of us did,” she added.
She had to free her head. She felt a pull from all sides. As if everybody needed something from her. Right now.
She gazed out at the Chionthar and let her thoughts drift. It was always comforting to her to know that the Chionthar had always been there. Even before Balduran. Even before Lok.

She saw fishing boats, their masts trailed by flocks of circling gulls. She watched one of the vessels pull into the Shimmering Docks. She observed the bustling activity down below; the people looked like ants. She glanced over the crooked rooftops of the Steeps toward the industrial district beyond. The massive chimneys of dwarven forges and gnome factories belched smoke, churning out black clouds capable of blotting out even the sun.
She looked up at the gleaming roofs of the upper districts, interspersed with breathtaking parks and magnificent temples. And towering above it all stood the palace.
She wondered what it would be like to live there. No breaking up tavern brawls, no hauling beer barrels, no constant demands on her time. Just tea, paperwork, and meeting people in funny hats.
She gave the idea a moment’s thought. Sounded awful.
She looked over at Aria and Elian, who were on the verge of raising their fists. These were her people. Her family. She wouldn't trade them for any crown.
Though she certainly wouldn't say no to a sack of gold and a little raid through the royal wardrobes.

She turned and walked over to Kael. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, she looked him in the eye. "Don't beat yourself up over Elian," she said. They held each other's gaze for a moment before she added, "Grok will do it for you next week." She laughed; he joined in, and they embraced.
She felt his arms around her. She wrapped her arms a little tighter around him. He did the same. She increased the pressure. He followed suit. This went on for a while. She could see his head getting red. His eyes pressed together in pain. She nearly had him. His arms were shaking. Not much longer now… but it was Lysira who reached her limit. Her face tightened. She tried to withstand his pressure, but her body gave way.
She gasped for air and loosened her arms. Kael let go of her immediately. They exchanged a brief smile. Then she turned around to separate Elian and Aria.

She walked over to the pair, who were by now holding their tools like weapons. She grabbed the board and wordlessly slotted it correctly into the designated machinery. Then she turned to face them both and crossed her arms.
Elian and Aria stared at her in astonishment for a moment. Then Elian said, “Now I feel a bit like an idiot.”
Aria looked at him and simply nodded in agreement. Then she turned and walked away.
Elian looked at Lysira inquiringly. “What’s going on? Aria is acting like a fury. And you’ve looked stressed all day, too.”
Lysira was constantly impressed by him. Even on the most intense trips, he remained aware of his surroundings. Lysira never knew if it was down to his Wood Elf blood or if he was simply incredibly resilient.
Suddenly, she felt a compelling need to talk to someone about yesterday.
“I need to tell you something,” she said to Elian. “I think I’ve really messed up.”

She saw his open palm coming. She could have dodged it easily. But why? He was right.
His hand struck the back of her head with a sharp smack.
“I always knew you were stupid. But not THAT stupid,” he roared.
They had sat down a few meters away from Kael and Aria, who were busy chiseling at a stone. The noise drowned out Elian’s words.
But a few of the workers looked up, interested. Elian lowered his voice.
She was sitting on a crate; he stood beside her. He leaned in slightly. His eyes were glassy, yet Lysira could tell he was fully present.
“What did you think would happen? That you’d walk into the warehouse and the Zhents would run off because they were scared of the big, bad drow? No, sister dear. You knew exactly what was going to happen in that warehouse.”
He leaned back again and stared at her in disbelief.
“And then you go and do it with Odette. With Odette! Of all people. Do you have even the faintest idea what that does to Aria?”
Both of them glanced over at her. Lysira thought she had a pretty good idea by now, but she kept it to herself. No point starting an argument here. She let Elian speak.
“And all for Astele, too. She’s always screwed you. Always. You can’t seriously believe you can march into a warehouse, beat up three people, and face no consequences.”
He shook his head. Then he continued: “The Zhents will strike back, and you’ve just painted a huge target on Aria’s back.”
Lysira felt the weight of his words. She bit her lip. “And what will you do if the Zhents haven’t cleared out? Just go over there and kill them?”
Lysira shook her head. “I was only paid for this one job. I never agreed to kill anyone.”
Elian waved his hand dramatically, a mocking look crossing his face.
“Oh, please. Odette gives you THAT look, and suddenly you’re standing in that warehouse with an axe and a fire spell.”
She wanted to protest, but what was the point? He was not entirely wrong. She had never managed to say no to Odette.
“Vha'nor, only you and Odette could be that braindead,” he concluded.
Lysira sat there for a moment, then asked, “So what am I supposed to do now?”
Elian sat down beside her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Hope that I’m wrong—and that you can actually just walk into a warehouse, beat everyone up, and face no consequences, I suppose”
They simply sat together in silence for a few minutes before heading back to the others.

Towards evening, the four of them sat around the fire. The sun had almost completely set, and the city's lanterns were reflected in the waters of the Chionthar. They had managed to procure two fish and a chicken, which they were now roasting over the fire.
Kael had also secured a huge amphora of wine. It wasn't exactly Berduskan Dark, but it was strong and went to one's head quickly.
The amphora was so heavy that Elian and Aria both needed two hands to drink from it. Lysira and Kael, however, drank using only one arm—while keenly watching to see if that arm trembled in the process. At the end none of them folded. It was not, as if the amphora was getting heavier.
They laughed a lot, and Lysira could see Aria’s mood improving. After a while, Aria stood up and sat between Lysira’s legs. Lysira wrapped her arm around Aria’s waist, and Aria took her hand.
They sat there like that until the amphora was empty. Feeling pleasantly tipsy, Lysira and Aria headed home. They walked arm in arm across the Shimmering Docks, with eyes only for each other.
When they arrived at Agneta's Alley, they decided they needed to wash off the grime from the construction site first. It was night by then, and they had the bathhouse to themselves. They made love in the pool and finally fell into bed, utterly exhausted from the day.

Aria fell asleep immediately, snuggled close to Lysira. Lysira was on the verge of drifting off too, but then Elian’s words came back to her. It reminded her of the fact that she hadn’t heard a word from Odette all day. That was a good sign, right? Right?

 

[Kumbao]

Chapter 6
Focus

She hadn’t seen it coming. She was too distracted by Odette’s silence. She hadn’t heard from her in four days. The silence was becoming deafening. And Elian’s words kept circling in her mind.
That was why, for a split second, her attention wavered and she left her guard open. Cedric didn’t hesitate. He struck her in the side with full force. Cedric always insisted on training without gloves. That was the reason. She felt the blow.
“What’s wrong? Focus, girl. Focus. Mistakes like that mean an early grave,” the old half-orc roared at her.
Lysira groaned in frustration, lowered her arms, and took a brief moment to catch her breath. She tried to sort out her thoughts. She was usually very good at suppressing problems. But this time, worry had wrapped its arms tightly around her—and showed no intention of letting go.
But it was no use. There was nothing she could do right now. And Cedric was absolutely right. What she needed now was to concentrate. Focus, girl. Focus. She got back into position, raised her fists, and they resumed training.

When they were finished, Lysira changed clothes and returned to Cedric, who was standing on a ladder, tightening the mount of one of the punching bags.
“Did it come down again?” Lysira asked, calling across the room as she walked toward him.
“Oh, you know how it is. That’s just what happens when you train with centaurs, orcs, and freaks like you. Even a punching bag needs a break sometimes.”
Lysira laughed. She never would have expected to have something in common with a punching bag. The things a little warehouse beatdown made possible.
She looked around the studio. It was small and cluttered with broken equipment. In the center stood a small ring with a floor made of warped planks. One might think Cedric had let the place go to ruin, but that wasn't the truth. It had already been run-down when he took it over a few years back.
Just like Lysira, Cedric had once been an enforcer for the guild. They had even worked together a few times. But he had left the guild just under a year before she did. The guild had been in chaos back then; Cedric and Lysira had used that turmoil to slip away without ending up on any hit lists.
"Just be honest with yourself, old man. The only thing that’ll help your equipment now is a fire," Lysira said, having reached Cedric’s side.
Without a word, he handed her the screwdriver and gave the chain holding the punching bag to the ceiling a few sharp tugs. Plaster crumbled down, but the half-orc seemed satisfied; he nodded and climbed down the ladder.
"Then you’re in good company," he growled at her.
"Why do you still hold onto this place? It’s a dump," she asked.
Cedric glanced around the studio briefly. Then he said, "What else am I supposed to do? I’m too old, and my body’s too battered. The only work I get offered is mercenary gigs. And I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime. You know what I mean better than anyone else in this city."
Lysira nodded. She knew it all too well. And yet, she had let herself get drawn back in. She bit her lip absently for a moment. Cedric noticed.
"Is everything okay? You seemed distracted back there."
Lysira briefly considered telling Cedric everything. But she didn't want to drag him into this. His guild days were over. He deserved his retirement.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a bit of trouble at home,” she said.
The old man nodded. “Good. And stay away from the Guild. You were too good at it. And you liked it too much.”
Lysira knew he had been raised by his orc mother. When an orc tells you something like that, it’s high time to listen.
“Seriously, that whole **** will get you an early grave. For nothing. We both know that,” he continued.
She knew. She had buried enough people to know it. Lysira looked at him. “I didn’t know you worried about me.”
A smile appeared on Cedric’s face, highlighting his tusks. “Of course I worry. You’re one of the few people stupid enough to pay me my full fee.”
Lysira smiled back at him. “No, that’s not the reason. You like me. You’re just a big softie.”
Cedric’s smile vanished. “Get out,” he growled. But Lysira could see in his eyes that he didn’t mean it.
She turned and waved to Cedric as she left the studio. “See you the day after tomorrow,” she called out, disappearing through the doorway. The sun was just setting.
She strolled across the docks, wondering for a moment if she really was one of the few people stupid enough to pay Cedric in full.

She briefly returned to Agneta’s Boot to unload her gear. The Boot was closed up. A distant cousin of Agneta’s had married a nobleman in Amn and invited her entire family; since a catering crew was needed, Agneta had brought Ara, Dirz’Ahn, and Tom along. Only Aria and Lysira had stayed behind.
That didn’t mean Lysira was off duty, though. Agneta had taken almost all the supplies with her, and Lysira had been tasked with restocking everything.

When she arrived at Agneta's Alley, she saw Yori and Tanila—two small Hobbit children, five and six years old, who also lived in the alley with their parents. Lysira adored the pair. They were so sweet.
Both of them spotted Lysira, beamed, and ran toward her. “Lysira!” they called out joyfully. “Play with us. Please,” they said, grinning broadly with pleading eyes.
She knelt down beside them.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have time today. But I’ll tell you what: Tom left a few cookies behind. I just need to pop inside and drop off a few things. And then, when I come back out, I’ll bring you some cookies. Deal?”
Both children squealed with delight. Lysira’s heart melted. She hoisted herself back up—she could still feel the ache from Cedric’s blow—then gave the pair a quick, playful ruffle on the head and stepped into the empty tavern.

She climbed the shadowy stairs to her attic apartment and stepped inside. It was so empty. So quiet. Just five days ago, this would have been paradise. But now, the silence felt oppressive.
She opened one of the windows and could hear Tanila and Yori playing in the courtyard. It soothed her a little.
Still, her thoughts kept circling. Why was Odette so quiet? Elian’s words came back to her: "...and you just painted a huge target on Aria’s back." She shook her head, as if to shake away the thoughts. She went back to her room and put her sports gear back in the wardrobe.
Suddenly, she thought she heard a creak. She froze and listened. She waited a few seconds, then rolled her eyes at herself. Damn paranoia. Focus!
She went back down the stairs and entered the kitchen.
It was pitch black in the windowless room. Yet the meager light from the crack in the doorway was enough for Lysira. Her darkvision might have been impaired, but it was still sufficient for these lighting conditions.
The cookie jar was sitting right where Lysira had last seen it. She took a bowl and filled it with cookies—this time, they were iced with strawberry marmalade. Lysira popped one into her mouth, grabbed the shopping list her mother had left for her, and headed out of the door, through the dark tavern. She looked around the room one time, then she left.
Yori and Tanila were delighted with the cookies, and for a few seconds, all worries were forgotten. Then she turned and headed toward the market. An uneasy feeling began to settle in. She glanced back once more at Yori and Tanila—happily eating their cookies and soaking up the warmth—before leaving the alley and stepping out onto the Shimmering Docks.

She made her way across the docks toward the narrow alleys leading to the marketplace. She had to hurry; the stalls wouldn't be open much longer. Ara had ordered four kegs of ale, but with the bruise on her side, Lysira had no desire to haul them all the way across town. She would visit Kael tomorrow and have him lay his hands on her to heal it. For tonight, however, she would simply focus on goods like bread and dried sausage.
As she walked along the docks, a creeping sensation that she was being watched began to take hold. She was used to people staring. Not only was she a drow, but she was unusually tall, with blue skin and a massive, broad-shouldered build. She was well aware of it. She worked hard for that body. Usually, she enjoyed the attention.
But not today. By the time she reached the alleys, she could no longer tell if people were looking at her because of her appearance or because they had other intentions.
“...and you’ve just painted a huge target on Aria’s back,” her brother’s voice echoed in her mind. Damn it. Not now. Focus!

She made her way through the narrow alleys. It wasn't crowded enough to require shoving, but busy enough that she constantly had to dodge people.
And everyone was looking at Lysira. She lowered her head, trying to avoid their gazes. But that only made it worse; she could still feel their eyes on her. As she passed a doorway, she heard a voice speak with contempt.
"Drow."
She tried to ignore it. She continued making her way through the alleys. People bumped into her. She didn't know if it was accidental. It didn't feel like it. She felt a second emotion mingling with her paranoia: anger.
She had almost reached the marketplace when she heard another voice behind her.
"Freak."
She stopped briefly. For a moment, her anger overtook her fear. It was a strangely liberating feeling.
But she pushed it away as quickly as she could. That exact kind of behavior was what had gotten her into this whole mess in the first place.

She stepped into the marketplace. Many of the stalls were getting ready to close. She had to hurry; anything she didn't get done today would have to be done tomorrow.
She made her way toward the sausage stall. Time and again, she felt shoulders ramming into her side. Her fear and anger continued to mount.
She reached the sausage stall and was just packing salamis into her basket when she sensed a gaze from the side.
She turned her head and saw a man approaching. He was gaunt, but the scar across his face was a clear warning not to underestimate him. He walked toward Lysira, staring at her the entire time. She clenched her fist. Her heart was racing.
As he came abreast of her, he finally spoke: "Damn Drow cunt. Go back to your spider-whore, where you belong."
A woman beside him laughed. Only then did she notice he was holding the woman's hand.
"You're so mean," the woman said with a broad grin.
For a second, Lysira’s fist relaxed. For a moment, she felt a sense of relief.
"Oh, the whore deserved it," the man replied as they walked on.
Lysira’s mind went blank.
She set down her basket and clenched her fist. Mechanically, she turned toward the couple and walked in their direction. She was almost upon them when she noticed someone in the crowd, and her senses suddenly snapped back.
She couldn't believe it. There she stood. Odette.
She was wearing her leather doublet and a blue hooded cloak that was far too long. She looked Lysira straight in the eye. Her face betrayed no emotion, but Lysira knew her too well. She saw that something was wrong.
Odette nodded toward a dark corner a short distance from the marketplace. Then she turned and walked in that direction. The cloak dragged on the ground behind her, but no one was foolish enough to step on a Duergar's cloak. People made way for her as she strode toward the corner, head held high and fists clenched.
Lysira followed her.

They reached the corner. It was dark; no streetlamps illuminated the narrow space between the two houses. Piles of trash were heaped up. A cat was playing with its prey—a small mouse—paying no heed to Lysira and Odette.
Odette turned around and took off her cloak. Without a word, she handed it to Lysira.
For a moment, Lysira was taken aback, but then she took the cloak, wrapped it around herself, and pulled up the hood. So, things were that bad.
“Damn it, where have you been so long?” Lysira hissed, more sharply than she had intended.
“Nine Fingers had us all on lockdown. We had to wait until the whole warehouse business was sorted out.”
“With what result? And why the cloak?”
Odette spoke in a hushed voice. “The Zhents deny any activity in the Shimmering Docks. Apparently, they just wanted to test our security net. We kicked down their door only four days after they’d set up shop. They knew it was still too risky and pulled back.”
Odette glanced across the marketplace. She seemed nervous.
“They’ve officially purged the warehouse accountant from their ranks. Called him a rogue agent.”
Lysira was confused. “I don’t understand. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
Odette looked her in the eye again. “Yes—for Nine Fingers and the Guild it is. But not for you.”
Lysira sensed where this was going. The paranoia returned.
“Nine Fingers has denied any Guild involvement, too. Claims you’re just a crazy drow who acted entirely without her influence.”
“She wanted me from the start because I offer plausible deniability.”
Odette nodded. “Her favorite words.”
“But what about you?” she asked.
“I’m still a Guild member and a duergar. No one rats me out, and nobody can tell one duergar from another.” She leaned forward slightly. “But you, Lizzie—you stand out, no matter where you go.”
Lysira couldn’t believe it.
“She only wanted me from the start because I offer deniability. And because I’m easy to find.”
Odette nodded. “In case someone comes looking for retribution.” Lysira planted her hands on her hips and threw back her head.
K'Zorvath. Astele. That bitch.
Lysira turned her gaze toward the piles of trash. By now, the cat had finished off its prey and was feeding on the carcass.
Odette continued: “And the accountant we roughed up? He wants revenge. Turns out his father is some rich **** in Waterdeep. And they’re throwing around some serious coin to find you.”
Lysira felt an invisible hand wrap around her throat. She turned toward the marketplace and let her gaze sweep across the crowd. Anyone could be a hunter. But she was no prey. She hadn’t spent a lifetime training with drow and orcs just to let some random assassin take her out. She loosened her shoulders slightly and rolled her neck.
“Then let them come.”
She felt Odette’s hand on her wrist. Her grip was firm. Lysira turned, and Odette looked at her with an urgency she had never seen in the duergar before.
“Lizzie, they aren’t just coming for you,” she said. “They’re looking for Elian and Aria, too.”
Lysira felt the ground drop out from under her.
“What do you mean…” but her voice failed her. Her mind went blank. She staggered back a few steps.
“…and you just painted a huge target on Aria’s back.” Elian’s words echoed in her ears.
She looked at Odette. She knew only one thing. She had to act. Now.
“I have to go. I have to find them,” she said, moving to run off, but Odette grabbed her again.
“It’ll take too long alone. I’ll look for Elian. You look for Aria. We’ll meet at our old hideout.”
Lysira wanted to thank Odette, but her mind was blank. “Okay,” was all she managed to say. Then she turned and ran through the crowd.
Only one word kept circling in her mind.
Focus.
Focus.
Focus.

 

[Cuddlebug]

Thank you so much, my first feedback

And you are right, I totally forgot to add information into the glossary that is common Forgotten Realms lore. I just added my own additions to the lore. I fixed it. I hope it makes it easier to follow the names, races and places.

I can upload the next three chapters as well. The book is nearly complete, so if you or anybody wants me to upload the rest, I'd love to. And thank you again for your kind words.

Your welcome I would like to go on with the story, I love fantasy. And the glossar is good to have, always helpful in a Fantasy setting. What I meant is, I'm probably not able to tell if you follow the Games Canon or not... But a good story should work without that, so let's see, where it leads to. I go on with the rest tomorrow.