Sylfir strolls down the main road in the early morning with her lyre in hand. She sang through the night to strengthen the ward around the lonely farmhouse Ivan calls home. He tried to stay with her through her second song, but when she finished, she found him sleeping like a babe in the grass. When she shook him awake, he took little urging to return home, though she still remembers how his tired eyes lingered on her as he lay there in the grass.

The thought brings a smile to her face. He's a shameless flirt, just like Lorys said, so much so that his earnest compliment after her first song surprised her. She wants to believe it's earnest, at least, coming from a man so fair.

That though still lingers as she enters the village, still worn down by the beast's attack, but it's getting better every day. The dirt streets are less cluttered with flotsam and jetsam, and the animal carcasses have been swiftly removed to avoid the spread of disease. Still, the more laborious efforts go at a snail's pace without trade coming or going. Some materials they simply can't provide for themselves, and others they might forage for in the forest are off-limits with the beast still around.

Sylfir looks up at the sky, searching for black wings, even though she knows there's no chance her bird will be back by now. She sighs as she returns her gaze to the fore, and she wends her way through the quiet streets until she arrives at the Weary Wanderer, the orange light of sunrise illuminating its ramshackle door. When she opens it, she's surprised to find Lorys already behind the bar.

"Morning, lass."

"Good morning," Sylfir says, stepping inside. It seems she's the only customer ludicrous enough to be entering a tavern so early in the morning. It's still a mess, full of people's haphazardly placed belongings in the wake of the attack, though Lorys always keeps a few tables available, and the bar is always clear. Sylfir goes there now, taking a seat on a barstool as shafts of warm sunlight spill through the wide windows, illuminating tiny flecks of dust floating in the room. 

Lorys continues setting up for the beginning of the day, but she still spares Sylfir a warm, golden smile. "If you're waiting on your bird, she hasn't returned, I'm sorry to say."

Sylfir shakes her head. "She wouldn't be here so quickly—she still has some distance to go. She'd be lucky to reach the recipient of my message in two days."

Lorys' golden smile turns into a frown. "Two days? Gods... I didn't know it would take that long when you asked for one of my birds."

"I know it sounds bad, but we still have the wards. The Wolffs' farm is warded now, and I'm sure Khaliss has succeeded in warding the Tappers' home, too."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for the help with defences, but I'd rather not wait until they're tested," Lorys says.

"And I'd rather not encounter the beast unprepared," Sylfir says.

Lorys hums. "Point taken. I just hope your friends pack the punch you say they do."

"Oh, they do."

The creaking of the ramshackle door turns their heads, and they find the statuesque silhouette of Khaliss blocking out the sunlight. She steps inside, walking toward them at a languid pace and she nods in greeting, a nod that Sylfir returns.

"Morning," Lorys says.

"Good morning," Khaliss says, taking a seat beside Sylfir. "The wards around the Tapper property are holding strong. The beast shall find it hard to invite ruin upon them."

"Not that it bothered the first time," Lorys says.

"How did you fare, Sylfir?" Khaliss asks.

"Well enough. The wards are strong around the Wolffs' farmhouse."

"That is well. Now all that is left is to wait for word from your allies, although..."

"Go on," Sylfir says.

"I would speak to you of your encounter with the beast. Or, more accurately, the woman that accompanied it. You said that she had red eyes, did you not? Was there anything else you could discern about her appearance?"

"I... I remember her piercing gaze, but not much else. She might have had pale skin, but she was covered from head to toe in her robes. I can't be certain of anything save the colour of her eyes."

Khaliss hums, her brow slightly furrowed. "Did she appear short? Was she slender, or slight in stature?"

"I was looking at her from above, so it's difficult to tell, but if I had to guess, I would say she's on the shorter side."

"She's not anyone you'd know, is she?" Lorys says.

Khaliss shakes her head. "I doubt it. Most villains I've come across I've also vanquished. That, and none I know who has borne such power as this woman wields would inflict it upon so small a target. Such power is reserved for worthy enemies.

"Summerfall is out of the way, far off any main road, and considered insignificant by many. I would be very surprised to hear that it has suffered any strife at the hand of anything besides the whims of nature over the last century."

"You'd be about right," Lorys says, "We've barely laid eyes on a gnoll in my lifetime, let alone this beast terrorising the woods."

"So, what does this tell us about the woman in the woods?" Sylfir says.

"From her actions, we gain more questions than answers. From the scant details of your description, however, one might surmise she is a drow." Khaliss hums, her tone curious. "Tell me again, Sylfir—you said that she was corrupting the forest using necromantic magic. She must have spoken. Did you recognise anything she said?"

Sylfir shakes her head. "I didn't recognise the language—"

She gasps, cutting herself off.

The ritual.

Memories of the ritual she and Khaliss performed at the edge of the village flood her mind, the words Khaliss muttered to entreat her goddess' aid ringing in her ear. She recognised no meaning in them, but she did recognise their sounds.

She looks Khaliss in the eye. "She was speaking the same language you spoke during the ritual. I'm certain of it."

"Drowic," Khaliss says.

Lorys furrows her brow. "Then our villain hails from the Underdark?"

"It is probable," Khaliss says, "I know of tunnels that lead from the Underdark to the edge of the High Forest, but they are near the northern borders of these woods, hundreds of miles from here. Still, there might be others closer to Summerfall that remain unknown to me."

Sylfir frowns. "What could a drow woman want with this village?"

"I do not know, child. If we apprehend her, I intend to find out, but for now, let us assume that all our assumptions are true." Khaliss tilts her head, growing pensive. "The question now becomes: who is this man that Alfie and I saw? Is he simply a disguise for the drow to pass without suspicion, or is he an accomplice?"

"It's too early in the morning for this," Lorys mutters.

But Sylfir might as well be deaf to her words. She ignores the barkeep and focuses on Khaliss. "What could you make of his appearance?"

"Alfie and I both had similar descriptions, although his account was somewhat lacking in details. We both identified him as human, a man possessed of plain features. I surmised he was of average height for his kind, somewhat slender, though his blue robes concealed most of his form."

"The drow woman was also wearing blue robes. Plain, with no sigils or notable markings that I could see," Sylfir says.

Khaliss' brow furrows with thought. "Similar to this man. It could be this drow woman was disguising herself."

But Lorys hums, a sound born of doubt. "Couldn't it be just as likely they're from the same group, just like how a mercenary company might have the same uniforms or badges or the like?"

"It's possible, but unless your village hides some kind of hidden treasure or something otherwise valuable, I doubt it. It makes little sense to waste resources on a village that few could find on a map," Khaliss says.

"You say that, but the beast remained in the woods nearby at that woman's behest. Why would she linger if she did not think there was something important here?" Sylfir says, "Perhaps she knows something we don't."

Khaliss hums. "That is possible... yet I find myself resisting that possibility. In all the time this village has existed, which I understand is reasonably long—"

"Four centuries," Lorys says.

Khaliss nods. "In four centuries, you have suffered little at the hands of ne'er-do-wells. The few who foolish enough to have caused trouble have ever found a secret or a treasure worth having. Why should this change now?"

"The only thing that has changed is the arrival of travellers," Sylfir says, "You and I, but I came a few days after the attack."

"I, too, arrived after the attack. The beast could not have been levied against the village to kill or capture me. Coupled with the fact that the beast has not made another attack while we remain here leads me to believe we are not valuable to this woman," Khaliss says.

"Well, she could just be doing this for fun. She wouldn't be the first person in the world to revel in other people's suffering," Lorys says.

Khaliss hums. "A most disconcerting thought. But one that has crossed my mind."

"When I first arrived here, I was under the impression that the beast was sighted near the village at least once after the initial attack. It's how you glimpsed the mysterious man, no?" Sylfir says.

Khaliss nods. "It is."

"Then it's possible that he was watching you—assessing the threat before striking."

"All of this is speculation." Khaliss shakes her head. "We won't know anything until we find evidence or otherwise apprehend him—or her."

"I could return to the forest—scout the area where I last saw the beast. Maybe find some clues," Sylfir says.

But Khaliss frowns. "I am loath to send you out there alone a second time."

"I know how to stay hidden, and I know how to make a quick escape. It makes sense to do some reconnaissance before we move in to kill the creature. We want to make sure we have the upper hand."

"She's not wrong. She's already shown herself capable, and there won't be much for her to do here while we wait for the extra muscle to arrive," Lorys says.

Sylfir watches Khaliss with anticipation, but the drow is still hesitant. Eventually, though, she relents. "Whoever we are dealing with, they are dangerous. Do not press your luck. Return at the first sign of trouble."

Sylfir nods. "Of course."

"That being said, you don't have to go right this moment. Won't be long before the cook is up. We'll treat the two of you to a hearty breakfast," Lorys says.

"Most kind," Khaliss says.

Sylfir's stomach rumbles, and she winces. "...Thank you."

Lorys chuckles as she goes about preparing the Weary Wanderer for another day of business, dipping out of view as she heads toward the kitchens.