Dawn approaches. The stars become dim as the night sky turns a lighter shade of deep blue as it gives way to twilight. The sun will break the horizon soon.

But Ivan has light enough to see the decaying corpse of the beast. Indeed, he has watched its unnaturally fast decomposition throughout the night—or rather, smelled it. Even if he was of a mind to sleep, he doubts he would have been able to with the stench of carrion filling his nostrils... and the paranoia that the beast might awaken.

He is yet to lay eyes on the mysterious figure that lurked at the edge of the forest earlier last night, but he knows she can't be far. He imagines she's not happy either, having lost her prized weapon, but all of this is mere speculation—without knowledge of her motives, it's hard to know her next move.

"I see sleep did not find you tonight."

Ivan blinks in the dim light, turning toward the voice. He finds Khaliss emerging from the kitchen door, watching him with a tilted head, like a curious cat, her eyes inspecting his form. In her wake follows the sweet scent of incense, a paltry attempt to keep the smell of the beast from infiltrating the house. Ivan could almost believe the gentle furrow of her brow comes from the stench of the creature she fought so hard to kill, but her pitying smile soon dispels that notion.

"It's difficult to when you know danger is still out there," he mutters.

"The beast is slain, and its puppet master saw how thoroughly we dispatched of her toy. I doubt she will return to cause more trouble."

As Ivan leans against the wall, a humourless laugh escapes him through his nostrils. He shakes his head. "You said something like that earlier, but how can you be so sure?"

There's a pause, and though Ivan can't see her features that well, he's almost certain he finds a hint of discomfort in her expression. She has to be hiding something from him.

"Drow are not wont to get overly involved in surface folk's affairs. If there was ever something of value to be had here, chasing it has already cost her dearly. She will cut her losses and return from whence she came."

"Or find her next target."

Khaliss' eyes turn steely. "And I will be there to meet her."

Another laugh escapes Ivan, though this time there's a hint of humour in it. "I'd hate to get on your bad side."

"Hmm, you are too good-natured for that, I think." A wry smile graces Khaliss' lips. She beckons him toward her with a flick of her head. "Come. I must make my way to the village, and it will do you some good to leave this beast behind. The smell alone is enough to make anyone sick."

Ivan relents with little urging. He follows her as she heads for the main road, his eyes adjusting as he turns away from the dim horizon toward the brighter village, moments away from being bathed in the light of dawn. He can make out a few figures travelling toward them—villagers offering their aid for the hero who nearly sacrificed his life to save them. Several have come up and down the road throughout the night, bearing the good news back to the village. Ivan doubts many people have had the chance to sleep, or have even been willing to take it. The torches have been lit all night long.

Among the faded silhouettes of the villagers, Ivan makes out the distinct figures of Torgrim and Sonja travelling up the road, though they are still a fair distance away. Khaliss, however, seems fixated on the shape of a woman closer by, who is holding a small, open crate. No doubt the drow's eyes can see her clearly in this dim light, but Ivan still struggles to make out her finer features. Still, she seems familiar—enough that it sparks the memory of a woman a few years older than him. When he listens to the clinking vials in her crate, her realises who she is.

"Vira, kind of you to make another journey," Khaliss says.

Vira nods. "That halflin' needs as much 'elp from an alchemist as 'e can get. Seein' as I'm the only one in the village..." She quietens as she turns her attention to Ivan. She's close enough now for him to make out her expression, morphing from confusion to recognition. "Ah! I was wonderin' where ye were, lad! Heard ye wielded that bow of yers with enough finesse to make yer mam proud."

Ivan hums. "Well enough to give the actual heroes a fighting chance, in any case. Erik, too."

Vira laughs. "When did ye get so humble?"

"When I laid eyes on that beast for the first time."

"Hmph! That'll do it," the alchemist says, "Anyway, I won't keep ye. The red-haired lass'll be waitin', an' the halflin' too. Gods know he's still writhin' an' wrigglin' from the pain."

"I suspect we shall see each other soon," Khaliss says.

"Count on it!" Vira continues her journey to the farmhouse. Ivan and Khaliss continue toward the village in companionable silence, not unlike the time they spent in the ruinous, dying forest, though this time there is a palpable undercurrent of relief instead of dread. It turns every breath into a sweet release as Ivan continually remembers the beast is gone, only to remember that the wispy figure who once controlled it yet lives. He has to suppress the urge to ask Khaliss about her again—he knows she will only give him the same answer she always gives. He tries to let it soothe him, but his doubt proves too great a barrier for comfort to take root from within.

"Something troubles you," Khaliss says.

Ivan shakes his head. "It's nothing."

A few beats of silence linger between them. There's a sense of anticipation—someone waiting for the other to speak. To clarify.

"Might this have aught to do with Sylfir?"

Ivan flinches. "What? Why would you think that?"

"I have eyes to see and ears to hear. And both are sharper than any human's."

Ivan winces as he remembers his argument with the wood elf. They might as well have been the only people in the world when they were walking up the main road, shouting at each other—he paid no mind to anything or anyone else.

"Your voices carried well across the meadow, and I could see that neither of you were happy," Khaliss says.

Ivan can feel her gaze on him, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the village ahead. He lets the sight of villagers distract him as he tries to find the right words, but there are none.

"You are intent on remaining quiet, then. Much like Sylfir."

Ivan frowns. "She... she hasn't said anything?"

Khaliss shakes her head. "She will not speak to me of the matter. Whatever it is, I suggest the two of you find a resolution soon. The bounty is now complete, and Sylfir and I are soon to leave."

Ivan sighs. He's rarely felt so helpless—so frustrated. "She won't even look at me, Khaliss! How am I supposed to talk to her when she won't even look at me?"

The cleric softens as her brow furrows. Pity, Ivan realises, but he doesn't want her pity. He wants a solution.

"Perhaps I can speak with her. Give her the perspective she lacks. But I can make no guarantee anything will come of it," she says.

It's the best Ivan can hope for. He sighs as he returns his focus to the village.

Sonja and Torgrim are closer now, and Ivan can see that they hold small wooden crates nearly overflowing with food—bread mostly, but he spies some cheese, fruit, and the rare cured meat. They're communicating—Sonja only able to mouth her words with her hands now occupied—and they seem completely engrossed with the conversation until Torgrim locks eyes with him.

He doesn't see the same scrutinising gaze the shaman gave him during their first meeting, though. Now, when Torgrim looks at him, Ivan sees a glint of respect buried in his pale blue eyes. It should come as no surprise that he'd have to earn the respect of the Uthgardt in battle, but it's strange to gain the recognition of one so... intimidating.

"Yet more food?" Khaliss says as they close the distance. "Hmm. That is well. Arfin will need it if he is to regain his strength."

Torgrim hums with laughter. "The halfling can put away a surprising amount of food."

Sonja mouths something—a joke, Ivan surmises, by Torgrim's reaction. His laughter wanes, however, as Sonja keeps mouthing before she looks expectantly between Ivan and Khaliss.

"Why do you return to the village? Is Arfin well?" Torgrim says.

Khaliss nods. "He is well. I only require materials from the church to quicken his recovery."

Torgrim nods. "Ah, of course. We shall see you at the farmhouse, then."

Khaliss nods, and Torgrim and Sonja continue on their journey, just as she and Ivan continue on theirs.

"What does Arfin need, exactly?" Ivan says.

"Some holy water will rid him of the vestiges of corruption. It is proving more potent than Sylfir's case—the corruption does not have far to travel in a smaller body. That, and Sylfir had the protection of a fey creature."

Ivan hums. "I could hear him groaning in his sleep. Sounded like agony..."

"Indeed," Khaliss says, "The pain lingers, but it is not so dire anymore."

Ivan hums again, an idle agreement as his mind wanders.

So, they are going to the church. Ivan has had little reason to go there ever since his mother fell ill. He's had even less of a reason to pray, but if he'd pray for anything, it would be for a peek into Sylfir's mind.

She's all he can think about as they approach the village, and his eyes flick to the bell tower of the humble village church dedicated to Lathander, the Morninglord. His symbol, a dawning sun hewn from golden metal and pressed into the stone of the bell tower, pales in comparison to the real thing as the sun breaks the horizon in the east, heralding a new day. The first day since the initial attack, the village has been truly free from the beast's terror.

Ivan can feel the weight lifted from the people as he enters the village with Khaliss. They're tired, but they are relieved—they're happy. For the first time in over a tenday, he sees an abundance of smiling faces, and many of them are pointed toward him and Khaliss.

"Here, lad! Is it true?" Mrs Cooper says, "Heard ye stuck a few arrows in the beast's hide."

Ivan hums with nervous laughter, turning bashful from the growing attention. "One or two. Erik did, too, but most of the credit goes to Khaliss and Sylf. And the Uthgardt."

"Well, o' course!" Mrs Cooper says, turning her bright gaze to the drow, "We could see the fight from here—sounded mighty fierce."

"Indeed, it was. But now we must focus on the future," Khaliss says, "And to that end, Ivan and I must make our way to the church."

"O' course!" Mrs Cooper turns toward the crowd of villagers. "Away with ye!"

They disperse quickly enough, and Khaliss and Ivan can get through the village without too much hassle. They follow the winding paths through ruined houses, passing by the modest square until they stand before the church. Some few people gather there to give thanks to the Morninglord, some still come to receive much-needed aid. Though the beast is gone, the effects of its initial attack still stretch into the present and likely into the future, Ivan muses.

Khaliss presses forward, gently urging people to make way with a tap on their shoulder or a brush of her fingers against their arm. She reaches the church doors, where a priest bobs his head in greeting and makes way for her and Ivan to come through.