Private Tales Steppebound

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria’s crimson gaze slid to him without a word as he stirred, rubbing his arms and yawning at the sun. She took note of the goosebumps rising along his forearms, the shiver threading through his spine.

With one smooth motion, she shrugged off her own cloak and draped it over his shoulders. It was heavier than it looked, woven from the dense, dark fabrics of the Underrealm. It had a grounding scent of dusky roots and flowers from not within this realm. She didn’t offer an explanation. Simply returned to her seat, resting her arms loosely atop her knees, her eyes fixed on the darker corners of the horizon where light hadn’t quite devoured shadow yet.

She did not look at the sunrise. Her eyes remained half-lidded, watching where the light thinned across the grasslands. Even now, dawn’s brilliance cut too sharply against her sight.

But she did glance back at him when he mentioned the healing.

Her brows drew slightly together. “I did not heal you,” she said after a pause. “I do not know any tricks like that."

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would blink, eyes widening, as that heavy, warm cloak slid over his shoulders. It was definitely a lot warmer than his own cloak, largely owing to it being too big for him, but he would blush softly at the scents upon it. It did, after all, smell like her. That particular thought would make him pause, turn away quickly, and shuffle his feet a bit. Why exactly did that make him so.... happy?

Not quite able to put it into words he instead decided to speak with action. Shuffling beneath her cloak he would remove his own aquamarine cloak and, walking back to Vyx'aria without a word, drape his own cloak over her shoulders. Bundling it tightly and warmly around her shoulders and chest. It was luxuriously soft, something she may have once had in her palace once upon a time for special occasions. It carried the scent of wild flowers and something softer, more airy. Compared to the scents of the flowers from the underrealm it would be like comparing the heady, grounding scent of dark chocolate to the lighter, more pointed scent of mint chocolate.

He would then beam at her and give a nod.

"There, we can trade for today!"

His smile would fade a bit as she mentioned not knowing how to heal, his own brow creasing in thought, before he gave a surprisingly firm nod. His voice, for the first time, actually hardening from kind and cheery to a serious tone.

"Right."

He said nothing else, at least not for a moment, before averting his eyes. As if suddenly remembering that he was about to admit something embarrassing.

"Y-Your umm... cloak... smells nice."

Was all he said before he scampered back to his belongings, face burning, and began to gather up his instruments, his bags, and hoped to use the time packing to collect himself. Assuming Ria didn't say or do anything unexpected.​

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria’s eyes flicked to Ispir as he waddled in her cloak, the thick folds of fabric nearly swallowing his smaller frame. The sight of him bundled in her garb was so absurd, so deeply out of place, that her face cracked for the first time since they met.

A quiet huff of air escaped her. Then another. She brought a closed fist to her lips, trying to suppress the soft sound that followed - a chuckle. Short, low, and wholly unintentional.

By the time he turned around and offered his cloak in exchange, she had already composed herself, though the sharp gleam in her crimson eyes lingered. She blinked in mild surprise when he gently placed it around her shoulders. The fabric was soft, far softer than anything she’d worn in decades, and carried a foreign scent: light, like fresh petals caught in a wind. It reminded her of surface dwellings with endless skies.

She said nothing of the gesture. Instead, she stood, letting the fabric settle over her as she adjusted the straps of her satchel.

“Healing is powerful magic,” she said simply, her voice returning to its usual cool cadence. “If you did it without knowing, it means the gift is already in you. Inherent magic cannot be taught. Only awakened.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, but she made no effort to probe further. Whatever it meant, and whatever it stirred in him, was his burden to unpack.

Without waiting for his reply, Vyx’aria turned and started walking toward the east, her gaze sweeping the horizon where she guessed the old shrine must be. She knew he would follow. He always did.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

As he packed his things away Ispir absolutely heard the suppressed chuckle and, back to her so his face was hidden, he smiled. A genuine, heartfelt smile at getting to hear her laugh. Even if only for a moment. When he did turn to follow her, her words about healing magic lingering on his mind along with a certain dream he had had near death, he did exactly as she expected.

Quick, eager footfalls would carry him to her. Though when he did catch up to her was.... quite the sight. The hood of her cloak was, purposely or not, pulled up over his head so that it all but concealed his eyes and gave him a very... silly appearance. The dark folds of the cloak standing out in stark contrast to his otherwise bright clothing and he would turn his covered gaze to look up at her, his eyes hidden in the depths of her cloak, as he grinned and struggled to suppress his own giggling as he asked.

"W-What do you think.... do I look as intimidating as the infamous Ria?"

He would dramatically draw the cloak across himself at mouth level, theatrically crouching and pretending to skulk and slink along with her before... he laughed. A bright, happy laugh before he exhales some air upwards, blowing the hood up enough for his eyes to shine out from the shadows of the hood.

"As funny as that is I kinda couldn't see anything so-...."

Ispir would be cut off as his foot impacted a rock and he began to topple forward, a short, surprised gasp leaving him as he held her cloak tight.​

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria almost rolled her eyes. Instead, she settled for a slow exhale through her nose and a sidelong glance at the bard who was currently masquerading as a shadow-wrapped gremlin in her cloak, the hem dragging like a train, the hood drooped so far forward he resembled a child playing at warlock.

“I clearly don’t look intimidating enough,” she muttered dryly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Since I haven’t managed to scare you off.”

Her pace was just enough for him to keep up. Her long legs moved with the casual confidence of someone who had spent decades weaving through treacherous terrain. She scanned the path ahead, eyes alert for any subtle grooves in the earth or breaks in the brush that might suggest the shrine’s direction.

Behind her, there was a startled gasp, and without missing a beat, Vyx’aria pivoted.

She turned just in time for the bard to tumble straight into her.

All six feet of solid, sculpted drow woman did not budge an inch. One brow lifted as she looked down at him in mild amusement. The wild contrast of him swallowed by her cloak only added to the scene.

“Humans are very clumsy,” she observed aloud.

Then her gaze swept over him, narrowing just slightly in curiosity.

“That is what you are, isn’t it?” she asked, tilting her head. “A human. Albeit a rather small one.”

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Her muttered comment about not scaring him off either wasn't heard by the short bard or he simply didn't feel the need to respond. But things would definitely get more awkward in the next moment regardless of whether he had heard her possible-joke about wanting to scare him off.

As he tumbled forward and Vyx'aria turned he hadn't expected anything to catch him, let alone her, and so when he clenched his eyes shut and anticipated the impact of the hard ground, only to instead press into surprising softness, if solid and sculpted, he reacted on instinct. His hands clinging on to whatever had broken his fall. Which, right now, was Ria.

So Ispir found himself, face buried in her chest, arms wrapped around her waist, hands grasping her rear in a surprisingly firm grip for how fragile he looked. A privilege many had desired and likely none, or very few, had ever had. His warm breathe would rush out in a surprised huff. For a long moment he didn't really understand WHAT he had fallen into, at least, until Ria spoke from directly above him.

Turning his eyes up to her, balanced forward on the tips of his toes, leaning on her for balance and at risk of falling over he..... blushed. A deep, rapid, crimson blush that turned his complexion from cream to lobster in the span of seconds and he sputtered at how.... how.... unphased she was! Her observation, her question, made his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he would... shimmy against her. Trying to regain his balance and pull his feet closer to him this would lead to his cheek nuzzling against her chest, which then caused him to freeze, his hands quickly beginning to release her rear from his grip.... only for him to grip it again as letting go of her almost caused him to faceplant into the ground.

Only with incredible, titanic effort did he manage to squeak out.

"W-W..... What else would I be!?"

He swallow thickly, only to mumble shyly after a moment.

"Umm... y-you.... I-I.... my feet umm..... Ria?"

Big, embarrassed eyes would look up at her from her chest, all but shining in the deep folds of her cloak. Only for him... to hiccup. A quick, small, shy noise that caused his body to bounce and he squirmed in vain effort to get his feet under himself.​

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria’s brows arched so high they nearly vanished beneath her silver strands of hair.

Of all the outcomes she might’ve predicted when the bard tripped, even with his hopeless coordination, this had not been one of them.

His hands had found their way squarely to her rear, gripping with the kind of instinctive conviction usually reserved for battlefield decisions or fine harp-playing. He clung to her like a drowning man to driftwood, his face buried in her chest, his voice a mess of stammers and squeaked syllables.

She stood perfectly still, crimson gaze lowered in a cool, unreadable stare as he flailed like a tangled marionette. For a brief moment, a thought drifted through her mind: If I ever retake the Underrealm and stand again upon the obsidian dais, cloaked in my House’s colors, flanked by silent warriors and bathed in violet flame… this boy will live knowing he once face-planted into my chest and gripped the ass of a Queen.

Her lips twitched. Barely.

Without a word, she extended one arm, caught him by the front of her cloak, and lifted him effortlessly to his feet, one smooth, controlled motion.

She gave him a long, deliberate look. Her gaze flicked downward towards below his waist, paused, then drifted back up with agonizing calm.

Deadpan. “Put that away.”

And with that, Vyx’aria turned on her heel and resumed walking toward the ruins, her stride unhurried, his cloak flowing behind her like nothing at all had happened.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir was, in addition to be entirely emotionally overwhelmed, also incredibly confused about Vyx'aria was taking so long in helping him. Granted some small part of him was surprised to see her surprised, as calm as she always seemed to be, and her staring down at him like she did only made his blush all the more persistent. He had no idea what the twitch of her lips meant, whether she was angry or even going to laugh, but then her arm extended and she gripped her cloak. Slowly and gently setting him on his feet and Ispir would sigh in relief.

"Th-... Thank you Ri-...."

He didn't get to finish his thanks, however, as Ria's eyes lowered rather boldly between his legs. The small, growing tent there.... reacting.... to her gaze being directly on it and Ispir's voice would die mid-sentence out of embarrassed excitement. She had just... stared at him! In a way that turned the roiling mass of embarrassment and butterflies in his stomach into something.... hotter. Less like the fluttering of wings against the inside of his stomach and more like the roiling of a million sparks inside.

But then came her deadpan command and he actually shivered, turning his head to look away, and meekly took his cap off his head to cover between his legs with it. Pearly teeth biting at his lip as his legs that now felt like they were made of pure Jello-O shakily carried him after her. A far, far crying from his usual quick, scampering steps. In fact compared to just a few minutes earlier Ispir was positively silent, face still a crimson mess and trained on the ground behind Ria's feet as he grappled with an entirely new emotion that flowed like lava on his tongue. Sent his mind in a roiling storm of boiling lightning.... and had the short bard's eyes flick up to her ass every dozen seconds.

But eventually his eyes would simply settle on the ground, eyes downcast, too overwhelmed, embarrassed and, if Vyx'aria didn't ignore his additional glances on purpose she could easily tell, excited to be his usual earnest self.​

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria remained unbothered by Ispir’s flustered energy as he trailed behind her, the crunch of his uneven footfalls providing a kind of rhythm to the morning. She didn’t glance back, didn’t need to, she could feel the heat radiating off him like he’d stepped into a forge.

Instead, she moved with smooth grace through the underbrush, plucking a few more dusky berries from a thorned bramble. She popped one into her mouth, chewing idly. The taste was sharp and grounding.

Ahead, a faint path emerged, overgrown, but still distinguishable. The angles lined up with what she remembered from her map. She adjusted course without ceremony, pivoting toward it, her strides steady and deliberate.

Only then did she glance over her shoulder.

“You’re a bard,” she said mildly, tone dry. “Yet I’ve not heard a single song. Not a tune. Not even a whisper of verse.”

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would mumble softly to himself words and pouts too soft even for her ears to pick up. If they were even coherent words at all and not just flustered nothings. Taking the time to quickly move his cap off his tented pants and instead pull her cloak about himself enough to all but hide himself from her gaze, only his glowing aquamarine eyes and blushed cheeks visible in the shadows of the cloak. Even as his eyes eagerly drank in every elegant duck, every graceful arch, she made while weaving through the underbrush.

So intense, earnest and unprepared was his gaze on the rest of her that when her eyes did finally glance back at him he would give a small, breathy and completely audible gasp before he pouted at her remark. Getting the distinct feeling she was teasing him Ispir would huff a soft noise and suddenly rush around her, moving in front of her, and would glance back at her in a fairly convincing mimicry of her own appearance. His eyes glinting from under her hood.

"Y-Yeah well.... I umm.... Haven't exactly been inspired today so-......"

Ispir would suddenly not only stop walking but blink as a ripple in the air would form around him mid-stride. The air between the two of them suddenly warping just a bit, blurring the other a bit as the magical barrier sprang to life. Ispir would look up at Ria in shock, then forward through the foliage a bit, and chirp.

"Oh! Hey I..... I think we found it!"

His voice did not reach her normally, instead of warbled and wavered as if coming to her through a water-filled metal tube and he would turn back to Ria curiously, eyes wide and curious as he stared up at her.

Vyx'aria​

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria slowed to a halt the moment the shimmer of magic disrupted the air between them.

But she did not step forward.

Her arms folded slowly across her chest, a deliberate motion of control, of assessment. She remained on the threshold of the barrier, unmoving, as her gaze shifted to Ispir. His posture was different. No longer the clumsy warmth that clung to her like an overeager puppy. He was still flushed, still cloaked in the folds of her garments, but something about him felt off.

Her brow furrowed.

“Why are you acting strangely?” she asked, voice low and flat, not cold, but edged with quiet warning.

Her chin tilted slightly, eyes narrowing with scrutiny.

“If you are overwhelmed, I need you to say it now. Whatever is beyond that barrier could be dangerous, and I don’t have the patience to drag a blushing bard through an ambush.”

Her tone didn’t soften, but there was a sliver of something else buried in it. Concern, perhaps, though well-hidden beneath armor-thick suspicion.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir's brow would furrow in confusion for a moment as she mentioned he was acting strange. Starting to answer.

"N-No that's just my voice being....."

He would then stop as she clarified, his voice trailing off for a moment only to die abruptly. He didn't catch that tiny spark of concern for him before he sighed and turned his head, muttering in a voice both supremely embarrassed and reluctant.

"I-.... I meant what I.... What I said last night. A-About you."

Was the only answer he gave at first, fiddling with the harp on his hip, face hidden from her in the folds of her own cowl before his shoulders squared just a tiny bit and he nodded, once.

"I-I haven't been honest. I'm not.... Normal."

His face would turn up toward her, his shoulder slouching, his eyes searching her own. While he made an odd confession at perhaps the worst possible time.

"I don't have.... Memories. Or at least only a few. Only the past few months. I don't know about Drow other than what I've heard in inns and taverns but you.... You're nothing like that. At least you haven't been. I want to help you and..... Spend more time with you. So I don't care if it's dangerous. I'm staying."

It was an odd thing. He didn't say these words like he was putting on a show of bravery. Neither did he seem particularly afraid. Instead there seemed to be something between honesty and some sort of request of her being made. But even Ispir wasn't truly sure what he was looking for from her. How could he?

Vyx'aria​

 

[Vyx'aria]

No memories?

“So,” she said slowly, her voice quiet but precise, “you don’t know who you are....How do you know your name is your name?"

The idea hit her with the weight of something visceral. A punishment more cruel than death. To be stripped of all meaning, all connection, all identity.

Internally, her thoughts raced. A curse? A price? Magic like that doesn’t happen by accident. Nor does it leave survivors intact.

Her gaze swept over him with renewed calculation, but also something deeper. Pity was too soft a word. Recognition, perhaps. The dread of being unmoored from everything familiar, yes, she knew that sensation well. But this... this was more than exile. This was a soul adrift.

Her arms lowered slowly to her sides.

“You want to spend time,” she said at last, “because you are trying to anchor yourself. To force a tether to something so it becomes a memory.”

She let the silence hang, her expression unreadable but her words sharpening again, cool and deliberate.

“But you’ve chosen poorly, bard. I am not someone you should be spending time with. They will not be happy memories.”

Without another word, she turned.

The barrier shimmered like liquid light before her, and she reached out with one hand, testing its surface. It rippled, resistant, and the moment she passed through it, a chill shot up her spine. Her limbs felt leaden. Her power, dimmed. The place resisted her, tested her. Ancient magic, thick in the air like dust.

Still, she pressed forward.

Beyond the barrier, the land dipped down into a hollow, and ahead, half-choked by vines and wildflowers, loomed a dark, moss-coated entrance to what appeared to be a cave.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Whether entirely intentional or not Vyx'aria 's first choice of words, slow and precise, bit at him like a viper's strike. How DID he know he was Ispir? Who even was that? Who he was now? Who he was then? One barely more than a month's worth of memories and the dregs of some forgotten life and the other the near-completely forgotten life those scant few memories were piled on?

Thankfully for Ispir he had been gazing deeply into those beautiful ruby red eyes already when she swept her gaze over him. Even someone like him could pick up on the shift in her expression because she did not, or could not, completely hide it. He was almost surprised by what he saw, in some ways happy to see it, in others not; Empathy. And once again Ria left him holding emotions far too complex to parse with what little he had. What little he was.

But if Ria's first choice of words had been the quick, precise sting of a viper's bite, even if unintentional, her explanation for why he wanted to spend time with her left him feeling like he had had the very breathe ripped from his lungs by some ancient, cursed spectre. So much so that he had to blink, rapidly, many times before he could truly center himself to respond. His hands clenching into white-knuckled grips on her cloak as he simply.... acted.

As Ria stepped through the barrier, pushing through the rippling net that dragged her power out of her, suppressing it, she would be met by something else halting her progress in the form of Ispir moving forward and.... hugging her. Tight, sudden, action over words and consideration as the scent of mint chocolate and earthy darkness mingled pleasantly together.

Once again his head pressed to her chest, but not in some comical or provocative way, his arms encircling her in an embrace that was gentle, firm and.... protective? As if he would somehow support HER in this place. An insult to a queen from such a lowly, weak bard, no doubt. But as he turned to look up at her, eyes sincere and earnest and steadfast her hood would fall back off his head, his cap going with it and filling the otherwise dark interior of the fabric with bright, airy colors as he met her gaze and simply stated.

"You're wrong."

Inhaling a shaky breathe he would then slowly bloom into a gentle, wistful, happy smile. His arms gentle untangling from her, the small bundle of warmth that was Ispir taking only a tiny step back as his hands slid along her arms to her hands and he added.

"Watching the... the stars with you is one of the happiest memories I have ever had. Seeing you let yourself be.... you."

He would shake his head, such a gentle motion for the titanic rejection that accompanied it as he added.

"I don't.... care.... who you are outside our time together. You keep talking as if you're the worst person on Arethil. Like me even being around you will get me killed o-or worse....."

Exhaling a breathe that was obviously scared, and OBVIOUSLY believed what he said to some extent, he would square his shoulders, swallow softly, and give a nod as met her eyes once again.

"....but I choose to be here, with you. A-And I'll cherish the memory of looking at the stars with you Ria, no matter who you are. For as.... as long as I have them."

Then, with a slow gentleness, he would squeeze her hands, holding them, fingers lacing tenderly with her own, treating her as if she was something precious, not dangerous, not vile, not evil and certainly not a danger to him.

"I promise."

Before he released her hands, stepped back, and all the while smiling at her he would pull the hood of her cloak back up and nod.

"Lead the way, I'll follow, as long as you'll have me."​

 

[Vyx'aria]

The embrace surprised her.

Not because it startled her, Vyx’aria had felt his movement before it happened, sensed the way his presence closed in with that same unrelenting softness he always carried, but because she didn’t push him away. His arms wrapped around her, and still she stood there, unmoving, her gaze drifting not to him but beyond, cast far over the endless fields that stretched beyond the threshold of the barrier. Grass bowed in the hush of dawnlight and lingering magic, but her eyes saw none of it.

Her thoughts turned inward.

She always pushed things away. Anyone, anything, that drew too close. It was habit as much as instinct. She had grown so accustomed to presenting herself as the villain, the cruel queen, the cold blade, the spider beneath the throne, that she had almost forgotten how to be anything else. The world expected her to be sharp, wicked, distant. And she had made it easy by never letting them see past the armor.

It was easier that way. To be feared. To keep people guessing. Easier than the risk of softness. Easier than letting even a sliver of anything human, or whatever passed for human in her, slip through.

But in that moment, standing on the edge of a ruined shrine and held by the most baffling creature she’d ever encountered, she wondered if she was truly any better off than him.

He didn’t remember who he was. She remembered everything and still wasn’t sure what was real beneath all the titles, battles, and bloodlines that had defined her life. She had been forged by war and burdened with the expectations of a people who had named her heir before she’d known the cost. So what was left of her now, with no throne, no banner, no war to command?

She breathed out through her nose, steady and silent.

Foolish, she thought. Or brave. He kept closing the distance between them, kept reaching out like he didn’t understand that touching her should have burned. That none dared get close. That she was made of shadow and knives and legacy too heavy to carry.

And yet, he had. He did.

She didn’t look at him, not right away. Her gaze lingered on the horizon. The dawn. The barrier that still shimmered faintly at her back. The ghost of a memory, sharp and recent, of him pointing upward to the stars.

When she finally spoke, it was quieter than before, her voice rough with something unspoken.

“I won’t forget the stars either,” she said. "It was a good memory."

At last, she looked down at him. Her expression softened, barely, but enough to make it clear she meant it. Not some passing nicety. Not a courtesy. A vow.

She would remember.

Long after his hair grayed. Long after his hands lost their music. Long after he was gone and she remained, as Drow so often did, unchanged, untouched by time. But this, the strange night beneath the stars, she would carry with her.

She exhaled and gave a single, decisive nod. Then she turned, stepping into the mouth of the cave.

She didn’t look back.

But she knew he would follow. And for once, that knowledge did not sit uneasily. It settled in her like warmth.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would smile at her, even from behind, even unseen. A soft, heartfelt smile that was near to being lost in his own thoughts for just a moment. Only for him to rush forward, inspired by her words, and make his own promise. No. His own vow. Without an ounce of hesitation or deceit.

"And.... That's the best part Ria!"

Now standing beside her he would smile up at her, so bright and eager that not only did it reach his eyes but they actually shut with pure emotion.

"I plan to make a lot more memories with you."

He would nod firmly, hood flapping comically, only for him to pause as the darkness of the cave consumed them. Ispir, unlike Vyx'aria or any other Drow really, couldn't see in the dark. But he hesitated to summon orbs of light, instead staying close to Ria's side, as the darkness of the cave was littered with skeletal remains. A fact that though Ispir couldn't see them he could smell the acrid must of death on the cave air.

Ria would see, if she was observant, a sort of..... Webbing descend from the ceiling of the cave. Glistening, strong, but also capped on it's end by some sort of bulb. A bulb that, once reaching about chest height with Vyx'aria, would stop it's descent and begin to glow a bright, beautiful orange in the darkness of the cave.

Ispir, for his part, would wince and squint his eyes. Blinking rapidly as he gazed up at Ria's light-shrouded face and asked very softly.

"W-What is that?"

If Vyx'aria followed the "web" upwards it would actually be a somewhat familiar, but equally odd sight. A cavefisher, or what closely resembled a cavefisher, sat in a shallow alcove in the stone ceiling of the cave. This particular subrace of under realm predator, for whatever reason on the surface, seemed to have adapted to lure the more darkness sensitive denizens of the overworld to their doom.

This one has eaten well enough to be a hulking specimen, four "arms" capped with vicious claws meant to grip and restrain, to crush bone and split skin instead of cut.

If Vyx'aria were especially canny, suspicious or perceptive however, she could note that there was no feasible way for such a creature to have survived, reproduced and adapted to the surface all by itself. Additionally none of the skeletons bore the telltale signs of having been victimized by such a creature. What all this may have meant, however, was yet to be revealed.​

 

[Vyx'aria]

"I plan to make a lot more memories with you."

​

At his vow, her lips almost curved toward something resembling a smile. It flickered, subtle, the barest pull at the corner of her mouth before her composure reclaimed its hold, cool and imperious once more.

He always said things like that. As if words had weight. As if promises were currency she hadn't seen devalued a thousand times before. And yet... there was something about the way he said them that made the flicker harder to kill.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped forward into the cave’s shadowed embrace, each stride deliberate, silent, precise. The air shifted as they entered. It was musty, dry, and tinged with decay. Her eyes adjusted at once, sharp and ruby-red in the dark, narrowing as they scanned the scene.

Bone piles. Scattered, brittle, and old.

She raised a hand behind her to signal Ispir to silence, her other hand curling slightly as she prepared to summon arcane force at a moment’s notice. But the danger did not immediately pounce. What she saw instead halted her stride.

The webbing. The bioluminescent lure. And above it…

Her eyes locked on the beast.

A cavefisher. No… not just any. A monstrous thing, bloated and slothful with overfeeding, perched in its alcove like a demon in repose. Its claws twitched faintly, its chitin glistening with residue from old kills.

But something about this was wrong. The skeletons. The lack of wounds. The location. The presence that pulsed in the air, not of a beast acting on instinct, but a creature allowed, placed, perhaps even bound.

She narrowed her gaze.

Then she did something she very rarely did in front of others.

Her lips parted and she began to speak, not in Common, nor Elvish, nor even the arcane tongues of surface mages, but in the forbidden, hallowed language of the High Priestesses of Maelzafan. The true tongue of the Matron caste. Clicks. Hisses. Velvety tones that resonated beneath the skin, as if some old hunger from the deep had been stirred by the syllables.

She did not look at Ispir, but she banked on his ignorance. Let him think it was just another spell. Let him not realize what it meant that she knew this language, which would reveal the depths of her status among Drow.

The cavefisher shifted.

Chittering. Stilling. Its mandibles twitched at the sound of her words. It recognized that someone was able to communicate with it.

She tilted her head slowly upward, crimson gaze unwavering as she spoke the words:

“Whom do you serve?”

Ispir Sione