The Wandering Isles - Session 41
The group found themselves in the quiet depths of the library, pouring over books, each lost in their own preparations for the journey ahead. Saigo no Toshi awaited, and though their time at the Arcanum had been brief, there was still much to be learned before they departed.
The next day, Eldrin sought out Dash, and what started as casual drinks quickly turned into something heavier. Stories of the past, of Bricksunder, of choices made and consequences endured. And with each drink, more was revealed, pieces of a history that Eldrin had kept locked away until now.
But their moment was cut short.
A new arrival sent a ripple through the Arcanum—Cassiel Vaelor, the Monarch’s Blade, carrying a message from the Sun King himself. Fitz, The Inferno, was to be moved. His destination—Scorchwood Correctional Facility. The order was accepted without protest, but not without notice.
Amaedrianna, listening from the shadows, stepped forward.
Slate was summoned, and together they descended to where Fitz remained imprisoned. The interrogation that followed unearthed disturbing truths. His past was tied not only to his own crimes but to something far more insidious—experiments, both on himself and others. Slate, too, had been part of it, though not as a victim alone. He had once taken Fitz’s form to escape, a revelation that struck deeper than either of them could put into words.
With more questions than answers, Slate turned to Chaunce Artifice, seeking clarity. And clarity was given. He was not just something unknown—he was a Metamorph. A name for what he was, a glimpse into something larger. And worse still, the experiments he had suffered were not relics of the past. They were ongoing. And Scorchwood Correctional Facility? It might be the key to everything.
Elsewhere, Amaedrianna and Slate walked back in silence, the weight of discovery still heavy on their shoulders—until they stumbled upon Eldrin, drunkenly making angels in the sand. A rare moment of absurdity amid the chaos. Amaedrianna took full advantage, burying him in the sand and shaping it into a mermaid before leaving him to whatever dreams the night held.
Meanwhile, Dash found Eos, presenting her with a gift—an intricate mask, woven with deep purple fabrics. A gesture that spoke more than words ever could.
Later, Eos made her way to Weslyn’s grave, tending to the strange plants that had taken root there. As water trickled down their leaves, they shimmered, humming with a soft, melodic sound. A quiet moment, a prayer, a promise.
As the evening wound down, Dash found himself attempting to understand magic through Eos’s explanation. He failed. Completely. But he listened, and perhaps that was enough.
Finally, the night ended with Dash dragging a very unsteady Eldrin back to his room, ensuring he made it to bed in one piece.
The countdown had begun.
Four days remained before they left for Saigo no Toshi. Four days before everything changed once again.
