21 - A Theater Of Shadows
| Session 1 | Session 20 | Session 21 | ||
| ◀◀ | ◀ | ▲ | ▶ | ▶▶ |
| Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite |
And a Scepter
The books were all different, but they told the same story: Each prophecy—written in her own hand—described her death. But Endelyn always returned. As undead? But then there was the prophecy about the eclipse, only then would her death be permanent.
The Scepter
Zephyr said something cryptic about a scepter being the key. One of the goats apparently told that. He’s oddly good at making sense of nonsense. Still, I couldn't see how Stagefright’s stick could open anything, let alone a lock.
The Panels
A fake bookcase in the library revealed a hallway when Zephyr approached. No trigger I could see—just opened when it wanted to. Then it closed just as quickly. Dhanell stepped close next, and it opened again. He told us to follow.
The next panel had the backdrop of a beach. It opened too. Then another—moonlit graveyard. Theatrical, like everything in this place. I stayed alert. At the end of the last hallway, a curtain. When Dhanell stepped forward, a trapdoor yawned beneath him. He barely made it back in time.
Three meters deep. No spikes. No sign of Zephyr. A trap, not a threat… yet. I asked Frostbite to test the last panel to see if we could go back. He kicked a hole in it. Not subtle, but effective. We weren’t sealed in.
Maeve danced across the narrow edge beside the trapdoor with practiced grace. "You coming?" she called from the other side. With some help and convincing we all followed, except Frostbite who stayed behind.
The Theater
Behind the curtain: Zephyr, in a small theater, was crafting shadows like puppets. But they weren’t all his. Gleam’s shadow swung from a trapeze above. We called out to her—urged her to reunite with it. She climbed up and tried. But the shadow shoved her off.
Dhanell said it wasn’t that simple. The shadow was alive now. It needed to be destroyed. So I drew my bow and shot it.
The Shadows
That’s when all the shadows turned on us.
They came from all directions. I loosed arrows in quick succession, trying to avoid their touch. Maeve, Zephyr and Dhanell fought beside me. Gleam casted moonlight rays. Then a beam of pure moonlight burst from the ceiling, cutting through the darkness. Shadows scattered beneath it, curling into nothing.
Afterward, I asked Gleam if she had summoned it. She shook her head. So who did?
Frostbite hadn’t joined the fight. Dhanell had no magic like that. The orb in the ceiling, maybe? A trick of the stage? Or the Feywild itself, watching through a crack in the veil?
Whatever it was, it worked. Gleam’s shadow rejoined her. Whole again.
I searched the room while the others caught their breath. Found a pair of binoculars—no use to me. I passed them to Dhanell. Maybe he can turn them into gold.
Hurley
We didn’t linger. Endelyn may have noticed that some of her prisoners got their shadow back. We broke one of the stage panels into a makeshift bridge, crossing the trap pit with care. Gleam and Zephyr moved slowly—wounded not only in flesh, but also in spirit. The shadows had stolen something vital.
In the dressing room, we found Hurley. His shadow restored, his reflection normal. Relief in his eyes. But when I glanced into the warped mirror nearby, my stomach turned. My reflection was twisted. Zephyr’s and Dhanell’s too. We looked terrible. Laughing mirrors, I told myself. They lie.
Still… I checked my own small mirror. My face was unchanged. Pale. Unsure. My shadow flickering softly behind me like a candle caught in a breeze.
Hurley thanked us, though he had nothing to offer. Dhanell convinced him to stage a joyful play for Endelyn—no deaths, no tragedy. A quiet rebellion in a land ruled by sorrow. Clever. If it ruins her play, we can reclaim something Skabbatha took from us.
Sleep
We needed to rest. Found a bedroom large enough for all. One door. I curled up with Golmo between my horns, the magician’s hat still perched above.
Morning came, and Stagefright woke us—Endelyn was ready to see us.
Dhanell decided to take his scepter. Stagefright resisted until Frostbite stepped in with intimidating words. Stagefright fled, weeping. Dramatic, even in retreat.
Dhanell studied the scepter. Some enchantment. Minor. Not a key—at least, not in the way I understand keys. But things here often aren’t what they seem.
I caught my reflection again as we prepared to leave. Just a glimpse. My shadow twitched, as if it knew I was watching.
It smiled.
I didn’t.
But maybe… maybe I will again someday.
| Session 1 | Session 20 | Session 21 | ||
| ◀◀ | ◀ | ▲ | ▶ | ▶▶ |
| Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite |
Updated on: 20:36
