01-08-2025: The Price of Souls

It was still a ruin, but now—twisted things began to emerge. The smell of ash and sweet, floral decay hung thick in the air, eerily reminiscent of the spider-stamped leather scrap they’d received long ago. Bodies faded into view across the floor—Gnomes and High Elves, torn apart, burned, shattered beyond recognition. This was no cave-in. This was slaughter. Horrified, the group turned their gaze toward the raised platform.   Faerah stood atop it—her hair and dress whipping in a wind only she could feel. Strange energy crackled behind her, humming with power. Her tiara caught the flickering light of the room as she turned, smirking.   She addressed Mae directly, her voice cold and confident. She had known Mae would come—how could she not? Everything she had built in Illumé was leading to this. Her transformation was nearly complete. The souls of the dead at her feet had fueled it. The group would not stop her.   Her Mirror Image shimmered into place, and four versions of her readied for battle. Then the darkness came.   A sphere of shadow erupted toward the group. Mind and Aerith dodged, but Mae, Jaina, Grim, and Leo were clumped together. As the shadows peeled back, a sickly Gynosphinx materialized and roared.   Mae was first to recover. Lightning surged from her hands as she used Mirror Image herself. Aerith followed, blasting one of Fae's illusions into smoke. Jaina rushed the Gynosphinx with her scimitars, cutting it down with clinical precision. Leo, readying himself turned to Mind, gave a nod, and Mind cast Dimension Door, teleporting them both behind Fae—just in time for Leo to destroy another illusion.   Now behind her, they saw the truth: a Warforged suspended by crackling green energy. Its form was incomplete, but stable, held aloft by power. And in the corner… was Illian Quoronriel. Cowering. Whimpering.   Fae’s eyes flared. She summoned a massive spectral claw, slashing Leo and throwing him from the platform. Mind reacted instantly—Feather Fall slowed his descent.   Charging forward on Serosh, Gotrick raised his hammer in the air and cast Command—but Fae simply smiled. It had no effect. She turned her focus to Mind, casting dark, whispering magic meant to bore into his mind. He deflected it at the last second, sending it crashing into the wall behind him.   Mae unleashed a powerful Lightning Bolt—from a scroll Mind had given her long ago—and it struck true. Aerith sprinted forward, shadowy tendrils erupting from her arms. They missed, but the pressure was enough to open Fae up to another Eldritch Blast.   A ghostly black greatsword appeared before Gotrick, slashing into him. Leo responded with Booming Blade, only to be parried. Jaina, calm under pressure, destroyed the final illusion and planted an arrow in Fae’s shoulder. Kiwi, ever faithful, emerged from Jaina’s pouch to offer a small healing spell.   More whispers tried to claw into Mind’s thoughts. He fought them off and hurled a Fireball toward the platform. Gotrick smashed the greatsword into pieces. Fae retaliated—Eldritch Blast to Leo. The impact staggered him. Mae and Aerith exchanged glances—they knew exactly what kind of magic was needed for that.   Mae cast Shatter. Aerith followed with another Eldritch Blast. Fae summoned two more specters—this time, a werewolf and a soldier. But Leo and Mind quickly dispatched them. Mind floated to the floor using Feather Fall, casting Spider Climb on Serosh. Fae locked eyes with Gotrick. He heard the whispers too—but shook them off. “That goes in the book!” he yelled, and together with Serosh, climbed the platform and struck Fae hard. She cast Shield, but the blow still landed. She was weakening.   Desperate now, Fae conjured a dark sphere—like a magical prison—and hurled it. Gotrick and Serosh dodged, smashing it midair.   Mae casted Heat Metal. Fae grunted—her tiara glowing red-hot, searing her scalp. Aerith’s tendrils finally connected, grappling her in shadow. A massive dark shape loomed behind Fae—it was the same shadow Mae had once seen surrounding the wizard from her past.   Then came the final assault. Jaina’s arrow. Leo’s bolt. Another strike from Gotrick. Mind’s Fireball—but it twisted unnaturally, blooming in midair before anyone was harmed. Fae staggered. Bloodied. Barely standing.   And then… she screamed. With a voice layered in two tones, she shouted: "Enough!" The group was hurled back to the far side of the room—but strangely, none were hurt. An invisible force blocked their advance. Behind Fae, the bindings holding the Warforged burst open. Energy cracked like thunder.   Fae vanished behind it. A shadow rose into the air—massive, unnatural. Then came her voice. Fragile and terrified, begging for mercy and to leave her alone.   And then a scream. Piercing. Inhuman. Agonizing. Mae fell to her knees, tears in her eyes, Fae was also screaming for her. The others froze, stricken with horror. This was the sound of a soul being ripped from a body and forced into a gem. Then… silence.   The light faded. The shadow vanished. And standing where Fae had once been was a Warforged. Its limbs were a grotesque blend of steel and flesh. A green gem pulsed in its chest.   It looked at them and spoke. In the voice Mae had feared for years—the wizard’s voice.   “We will meet again.” And just like that, it vanished.   No one moved at first. The silence after Fae’s disappearance was heavy, pulsing with disbelief and exhaustion. The group exchanged glances—faces pale, breaths shallow—until Aerith took the lead. There was no time to grieve. Zharrus was still out there, and whatever had just happened was only the beginning. With the help of Mind’s Spider Staff, they climbed back onto the platform. There, huddled in the corner, was Illian Quoronriel.   He hadn’t moved since the battle. His back was to them, body trembling, whimpering like a man utterly broken. Mae stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him to his feet, slamming him against the wall   Her questions came hard and fast—about what he knew, what he’d done. At first, he denied everything. Then, piece by piece, the truth slipped through the cracks in his voice. Aerith mentioned the prototype and yes, he had helped with the prototype. No, he hadn't known that it would be used for this. His shame was real—but so was his cowardice.   Leo examined him closely. Despite everything, it seemed Illian was telling the truth.   Mind pushed for other answers: where were the Warforged being made? Illian hesitated, but he knew the location. What he didn’t want was to go with them. Desperate, he began offering them anything—gold, power, favors—if only they would leave his father out of it.   But Aerith had heard enough. She took hold of him with a rough grip and forced him forward, placing him at the head of the group. There would be no running from this. If Illian knew the way, then he would walk it.   He led them into a narrow tunnel and into a sealed chamber. A smooth wall stood before them—until Illian stepped forward and placed his hand upon it. With a subtle shimmer of magic, the wall slid open. Some kind of identification enchantment, perhaps—tied to his blood or name.   The room beyond was filled with Warforged schematics, scattered blueprints, and half-assembled frames. For a moment, Illian paused, thinking perhaps he had done enough. But the group pushed him further. They weren’t here for designs. They were here for what came after. Aerith asked him where the people were being held.   Reluctantly, Illian guided them through more chambers, deeper into the facility. Then they reached a hallway where they stopped. Just ahead, Warforged stood waiting—silent but alert. The atmosphere changed. The constructs had turned, their weapons now trained toward the approaching group. Illian froze. Gotrick stepped forward, asking what was wrong. Illian, barely above a whisper, explained that the room they needed was just beyond those guards.   The group tensed. Weapons readied. Aerith grabbed Illian’s arm painfully and held him close. He wasn’t going anywhere.   Leo and Jaina opened the fight with precision, striking the smaller Warforged at the center of the group. Their arrows and bolts hit true. From behind them, Mind launched a fireball into the cluster of enemies, engulfing all four in flame. Gotrick charged the one on the left, while Mae slicked the floor with Grease, causing the left one to slip and crash to the ground.   The Warforged in the middle—a brute, larger than the rest—forced its way through the burning grease and slammed into Gotrick and Serosh, knocking them both to the floor. Aerith took down the first small Warforged with a blast of magic and turned her attention to the brute. A second Warforged managed to strike Serosh, and the mount dissolved into light. Gotrick’s jaw tightened in frustration.   Illian, watching from the rear and then looking at Aerith, panicked. Without a word, he vanished from the room with Misty Step. Aerith, seeing it, didn’t waste time chasing him. There was no point in wasting energy to catch him.   Then the air changed. A shudder rippled through the room. Dust rained down from the ceiling—and then it collapsed. Something dropped from above. Jaina rolled out of the way. Aerith was too slow. Even the Warforged paused, thrown by the sudden arrival.   The creature that fell from the ceiling was unlike anything they had seen. Largely mechanical, but twisted—its red eyes glowed with malice, and its right hand was made of flesh and bone, oversized and unnatural. It wielded a massive, spiked claymore.   Without hesitation, Leo and Jaina attacked, striking it hard. Mind turned back toward the brute and unleashed his fire breath, igniting the Grease still smoldering beneath it. Gotrick rose, stepped protectively between Mind and the enemy, and struck a smaller Warforged down. Then he downed the lightning potion he had been saving. Above his head, a storm began to churn.   Mae turned to the twisted creature and struck it with lightning. Aerith tried to flee, but the creature slashed her as she moved. Blood hit the air. Leo parried its next attack and retaliated with a powerful Booming Blade, cutting deep. The monster collapsed.   Jaina refocused on the brute—barely standing now. Gotrick took another hit, looking rough. In a sudden move, Mind cast Polymorph, transforming Gotrick into a thunder-charged, spotted lion. Lightning cracked along his coat. Revitalized, he leapt into the fray, taking down another Warforged. Mind, nearly out of magic, relied on his Fire Breath and even struck with his Spider Staff. With a final lightning-charged swipe, Gotrick took out the last of the guards.   They regrouped quickly, breathless. Mae stroked Gotrick’s lightning-filled mane, grounding herself. They turned to the strange Warforged creature. Its flesh arm looked fiendish—wrong. The transformation had clearly gone awry. Aerith suggested the terrifying truth: it had likely once been a prisoner, transformed in the same process Zharrus was meant to endure. Everyone paled.   Mind tried to sever a finger from it for study, but managed only a sliver of corrupted tissue. Leo and Gotrick, now back in his true form, forced the claymore that was no longer spiked into the Bag of Holding.   They pressed on. The next room brought them to a dark chamber, at its center a massive black door flanked by six elemental pillars—Light, Shadow, Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. An inscription in Celestial arched above the door. Mind, with a quick spell, read its meaning.   (Pieter: wat stond er?)   Realizing they had to attune the pillars to their corresponding elements, the group worked together—each representing their own aspect. With a mix of logic, trial, and cooperation, the puzzle was solved. The door groaned open. And they stepped into a vast chamber.   Across from them stood four researchers. Three tended to four bound figures—Tieflings, all seated as some kind of energy seemed to flow out of them into the air. One researcher held a book, chanting in a frantic, unknown tongue.   Behind them stood a Warforged, massive, humming with energy. The energy from the Tieflings was being siphoned from them and funneled into a glowing soul gem embedded in its chest. Aerith’s voice broke with urgency. She recognized one of them.   Zharrus.   She shouted and ran forward, the others close behind. The researchers panicked. The one with the book increased the speed of his chant and turned as Gotrick closed in, striking him. The book erupted into flames.   The spell reversed. The flow of energy snapped backward—no longer draining the Tieflings, but returning to them.   Mind and Aerith reached Zharrus first, just as something went terrifyingly wrong. The Tiefling furthest to the left screamed.   His body twisted violently. Bones cracked, warped. His form expanded, burning from within. Lava burst through his flesh, giving shape to a hulking, demonic figure made of molten stone and bone. The chamber grew unbearably hot. In an instant, the other two Tieflings were gone—burned to ash. Zharrus slumped forward, but he was still breathing.   Aerith and Mind shielded him and worked quickly to untie his restraints. Gotrick and Leo caught in the intense heat, endured the blast with grim determination. Jaina and Mae who stood around Mind and Aerith, looked at each other and gave each other a nod. This wasn't over yet.   The room shook with molten fury. Zharrus was alive—but the cost had been devastating. And now, with a creature of fire and bone rising before them and the secrets of Illumé’s Warforged finally laid bare, one thing was certain—   The next battle would not be about survival alone. It would be about stopping something no soul should ever become