Janaxia carefully checked her wounds – they still stung, but looked to be healing well, and unlikely to scar. She carefully twitched open the shutters, checking the crowded street outside. Constant rain poured down, the street awash with thick, clogging mud. Anonymously cloaked figures went about their business, hurrying to and fro, mostly trying to stay out of the rain. From here, she could just about see the necropolis, worn and pitted marble looming above the surrounding marshes, broken and scarred statues half-visible in the mist. It was probably late at night, to judge by the relative quiet, but she couldn’t tell, darkness now the same as light to her.

The door opened, and she spun, hands blazing with eldritch power. Semari walked in, looking entirely too casual, but mercifully not an assassin. She handed over some food, a lump of bread and meat, sodden with grease. Still, it was best to be polite, so Janaxia smiled. ‘Thank you, Semari.’ She took a bite, trying not to wince – surely people couldn’t live off this, could they? But she had to eat, to keep her strength up.

‘Any news, Semari?’

‘Nah, nothing interesting. Someone tried killing the head skull-dude in the Necropolis, but it didn’t take. They were cutting him up in the square, messy business. Someone made good bank on his squishy bits though, guess he’s on the menu somewhere now.’

That would explain the screams.

‘Oh, message came for you. Creepy dude in black, needed a shave, and some sleep? But not in a sexy way, more in a, like, crazy cultist way.’ She pulled out an envelope, bound with black lines of energy. ‘I would’ve read it, but seemed it might, like, eat my soul or something. Like you did to Stathis.’

‘I did not eat her soul! Although I must confess that I am slightly unsure as to precisely what did happen. But I am sure that Stathis will be quite alright, given time.’

Semari sat on the bed, then flipped over, so her face was upside down. ‘Scuttlebutt says she traded herself for her friend in the ice, to get her out. There’s a bounty out for you, dead or alive, preferably alive. I’m on there as well, which is, like totally unfair! And Vrintar, and all she did was get creepy-mind-whammied by you.’

‘I have apologised to her, quite profusely, which she appears to have accepted. It is regrettable that such actions were necessary, but I wasn’t expecting matter to escalate quite so rapidly!’

‘You’re just lucky she didn’t splatter you everywhere, don’t think she was happy about that crown-thingie you pulled. Anyway, you gonna read that?’

Janaxia sighed, then cracked the seal on the letter. Crabbed lines of writing appeared, an icy chill washing out. Despite her protestations, Mother did have an occasional flare for the dramatic, and very neat handwriting.

Daughter of the blood of the Icereaver; you are expected. Return at haste, or there shall be consequences. The grand plan continues at pace; soon, we shall be returned to our rightful place.

Well, that would be nice. Although it would hopefully not involve too much personal risk.

It is imperative that we obtain the skull of Grishmoor for the grand plan – while Greganx was foolish and weak enough to be captured, your own assault appears to have been more successful. You have managed to exceed my, admittedly low, expectations, I was surprised that you hadn’t been killed in the wilderness, or become the chained property of some barbarian warlord. As you have, to some degree, proven yourself, you may now return to your true home. A family conclave has been called. Attend, with the requested item, or your body and soul shall be forfeit.

Well, that was rather brusque! And probably all-too-accurate.

Plans are in motion to deal with our chief adversary – the Iristari shall fall, back to the dust and ash from which they have so recently risen. The removal of the heir has helped matters, but the dam of the line is still a thorn and seems to have been spurred into action. The other daughter, the priestess, is still a danger as well – her personal power is such as to make a direct assault hazardous, and she moves swiftly enough that containment is equally hard. Nevertheless, she too shall fall when we ascend.

Carissia! Janaxia bit her lip – she had considered trying to contact her, but from what news she had heard, a missive was likely to be greeted poorly. Carissia had been acting like the very vengeance of the heavens, descending amidst fire and lightning, purging the wicked from the land, those that threw themselves upon her mercy being harshly judged. Trying to explain what had happened, not that she knew herself, seemed liable to end poorly.

Rejoice then, daughter of my blood, daughter of darkness. Soon you shall rejoin your kin at the highest of heights, to bend the world to our will, and rule once more.

There was no signature, just her usual swirling rune-glyph, that seemed to have become more scrawling and curved over the years, when it had originally been sharp-edged and spiked. Janaxia looked down at her own tattoo – even since that incident, it had seemed darker and thicker. She gently touched it, feeling her skin through it, using a finger to drag it into place, frowning at it. It was definitely larger than it had been, although wasn’t moving as much as it used to when Stathis was near.

She brushed a hand over her golden choker – such a beautiful gift, and surely a signifier of some deeper intentions? Things had certainly seemed to be headed in a promising direction before… whatever that was had happened. For a time afterwards, whenever she had closed her eyes, she had almost felt as though Stathis was close by, watching over her, but even that had faded, soon after coming to in this wretched place. It seemed as though she had somehow created a portal to this place – just in time, otherwise she would have been maimed, and likely trying to convince her captors that she truly knew nothing.

She sighed, turning her thoughts from the matter. ‘It appears we have a job to do. And then perhaps we can be gone from this place. I will fetch Vrintar, and then we may begin.’

Semari nodded. ‘Yes, this place is, like, shit. Really shit. Not even any good drink. So, you going to try and do something’, she waggled her fingers in an imitation of magic, ‘about Stathis? Cos you kinda ate her soul or something.’

Janaxia sighed again, not wanting to re-tread old ground or explain, again, that she had no idea what had happened to Stathis. Some unfortunate accident, no doubt – maybe an ancient curse on the castle, or upon one of their ancestors? (Most likely hers, as Stathis had no ancestors worthy of the name). ‘I will do what I can. Now, we should make haste, and then we can go somewhere less dank and miserable.’

‘Now? It’s night-time.’

It was nice to have confirmation of her guess confirmed, although a touch worrying that she could no longer tell. ‘Yes, now. After our extended stay here, then somewhere I can bathe in water that is unquestionably fresh will be welcome.’

‘Cool. Easier to sneak in the dark, and your stuff, like, stands out less. So, we nicking something from the big tomb-place? Everywhere else here is a dump, so if there’s anything worth stealing, it’s gotta be there.’

‘Indeed. I daresay this will be simple enough, especially with your skills.’

‘Fine, I guess. But there better be some decent money in it!’

‘I will ensure there will be payment, do not concern yourself on that score. Now, shall we gather Vrintar and begin? It is past time to be gone from this place, I feel.’