The Price of a Miracle
As the Veiled Vanguard battle feral angels in the skies, they are left scarred but victorious, only to descend into a shadowed swamp where whispers of miracles and death intertwine. In search of the Witch said to return the lost to life, they navigate deceit, omens, and a bargain that costs them both flesh and heart. The ritual succeeds—but what rises from the cauldron is not quite the Emelyne they once knew.
Excerpt from the journal of Sanasha Illuvistari, including part of a story and discussion of recent events
Sanasha was born in a far-off place to an orcish woman of a brutal tribe that worshipped a dark god. To the shame of her mother, she bore a child to a man from an Elven kingdom. Smaller and weaker than most other orcs, Sanasha lived as an outcast, never a warrior, only a camp worker—skinning, butchering, and cooking meat for those who mocked her. She was beaten, bullied, and treated like trash. Little did they know their hate and brutality would make her stronger, their cruelty forged her resolve. Her rage was pure and sharpened. One night she slew a camp guard with his own weapon and vanished into the dark.
The world beyond the tribe met her with distrust. Here she was a beast, another monster of the tribes. It was only when she was accepted among a group of adventurers that her story began to change. In their ranks, she was just another oddity. She could afford finer clothing to set herself apart from the tribes. She would rewrite her tale, become a hero in her own right. No longer Sanasha the Tiny—she became Sanasha the Bloody, who fought beside Mordecai and Torrah against the Primordial of Fire. Sanasha, who might have been a Seeker. Sanasha the Protector, who sheltered refugees when Cielnor fell. And then, one day she was gone. No more tales to tell, a mystery without an ending.
Many years later on another continent, a young girl was born of an Elvish father and an orcish mother. This land was kinder. She knew no hunger, no lash of cruelty. Her mother was a scholar of the Arcane; her father a master craftsman sought by out by nobles and the wealthy. The child grew up hearing stories of her namesake, and dreamed not of magic or craft, but of adventure. She longed to carve a legend of her own.
Seems like a good opening at least. Let’s focus on something closer to the present.
Dreams
Every day since I left the Grove, I’ve woken up gasping for air. I always assumed they were nightmares I couldn’t remember, maybe caused by crippling panic from my failure to catch up and find Naoki? But… this time I remembered a glimpse of something—a massive tree, a field of stars. But dreams are fickle and often fade from memory.
Weakness
When I set out, I wanted to be a hero like the ones in the stories. Instead, I nearly died. Arrogance blinded me; I believed I could slay a Dracohydra alone. I didn’t see the betrayal coming. Then came Kydro’s trap, a battle that stole Emelyne’s life. Percy almost died trying to save her. But what good did I do? These people are so much more powerful than I am, and I’m the one who claims to want to be a hero?
Grief
Now… I push on with the Veiled Vanguard. Setting off on Dragonells to Turiess, instead of our objective. The cold feeling of metal digging through my chest into my heart, time ticking down. Tick… tick… tick. Time slipping away before I lose someone I love… time we are using to save Emelyne. I want to be selfish, but I can’t look her in the eyes again if I don’t save this girl. Emelyne’s heart was broken, she deserves a chance to overcome her grief. She deserves a second chance.
Faith
Renatus lives only to serve his Goddesses; when I ask him what he wants for himself, he has nothing to say. The man needs to find his own destiny. Everyone has the right to write their own story.
We stop by a massive lake to rest our mounts. Nearby we spot a cabin, there we are greeted by Delphine. She freely shares food and shelter with strangers. We learn she was once an Adventurer before the Tears of Toumas. A worshipper of the Goddess of War, who abandoned her faith when her prayers fell on deaf silence while trying to spare the lives of innocent children. Sword and shield hung on her mantle, she now lives a peaceful life. The kind of life I have chosen to walk away from. Choosing her own path, while Renatus blindly follows.
Doubt
That night, Percy confessed his doubts. He believes we cannot go through with the heist. He is right; this nation would suffer if we obey Contras. He wants us to find a way to break the pact, I want to agree with him. The needs of the many must outweigh the few. But the Vanguard is set in its course. Ro’Zaad, especially—I cannot trust him. He is too free with threats with those daggers, I fear he would cut our throats while we slept if we stood in his way. The way he treats me for being from a wealthy family. It brings back the voices of nobles who sneered at those from the south, I hear their words becoming my own. Sanasha faced hatred when she fled her tribe. I need to find a way to trust Ro’Zaad, so I don’t repeat their sins.
We take off to the skies again… time ticking down. Storm clouds are brewing. Are they only in my mind, or are they real? Tick… tick.. tick
Ascending toward humanoid aerial threats, the Vanguard engaged two Devas boasting transparent glass wings. Despite Percy taking severe damage and being knocked unconscious, Naoki revived him with magic before striking back with Call Lightning. Sanasha used an outburst of arcane energy to heal Renatus’ wounded mount, smashed one Deva to ash, and Naoki channeled elemental lightning through his umbrella to vaporize the second. Resting briefly in a humid willow-covered marsh, Ro’Zaad mused whether they had angered Ruar, the god of storms. Resuming their flight, the party landed at the amphibious stilted city of Turiess, paying four silver each to enter. Securing a shared loft at the Wiley Tadpole tavern, Sanasha bribed the grey-skinned tiefling barkeep with platinum for information on reviving Emelyne. The barkeep directed them to a formidable swamp witch capable of restoring the dead as living souls—not undead—though she warned against pestering her.
That night, Percy lit incense to pray to his god, Torra. A massive palm-sized butterfly appeared at the window before leading Percy outside to meet a hooded figure named Ferdinand, a fellow follower of Torra. Ferdinand warned Percy that the pantheon opposed their actions, having sent the angels as punishment for the monolith's destruction; he added that reviving Emelyne or removing Qyrakwarm’s eye for Contras would cost countless mortal and divine lives. Returning inside, Percy shared this revelation with the party. Though alarmed by Contras' looming deadline and the threat to Qyrakwarm, the Vanguard resolved that they needed Emelyne back first to help navigate their impossible choices.
Venturing into the deep fog the next morning, the party faced a shapeshifting illusion of Emelyne urging them to turn back, followed by trees bearing life-like screaming faces. Clearing a path, the witch invited them to her ivy-draped cottage, where a one-eyed goblin servant presented teas and snacks beneath eerie household decor. The rosy-cheeked hag accepted Thalia's Dragon-Blessed sword merely as payment for revealing the path, then demanded a price for the resurrection: either a newborn baby from a pregnant woman in the swamp, or Thalia’s mechanical heart alongside the skin from a party member's back.
Refusing to harm an innocent mother, the group agreed to the hag's terms. Thalia surrendered her mechanical heart—receiving Valerie's heart as a replacement—while Percy laid on his stomach to have the skin flayed from his back. Following the hag's instructions, they placed Emelyne's body into a cauldron and pricked their fingers to offer their blood. As the witch performed guttural chants, blue energy violently shook the cottage before falling still. Emelyne rose from the cauldron—her eyes solid black and dark cracks running down her face—smiling at her companions before collapsing unconscious into their arms.