The mood around the abbey had noticeably improved since their departure. Graver’s return with supplies and assistance, combined with finally being able to bury their dead, had raised everyone’s spirits. Although there was still an air of solemn resolve, it felt like some weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders. Glynfir even noticed a couple of smiles on their return. As the wizard lingered to watch Segwyn and Bird sparring and exchanging tips on their very different styles of dual wielding, Lunish wandered over to the fresh burial mounds lining the road at the abbey’s front gate. There she found Iskvold, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, meditating.


    “It was a touching ceremony, I’m sorry you missed it.” The drow spoke without opening her eyes.


    “Me too, but we had to see Glamos before heading after the demons tomorrow,” Lunish replied. “To get our own closure. For Grym.”


    Iskvold opened her eyes and nodded in understanding.


    “I get it. I finally feel almost like myself for the first time since the attack.”


    “I do have something to contribute, even though I missed the ceremony,” the druid teased with a twinkle in her eye, moving to the head of the first grave.


    The monk stood, dusting off her robes as she tucked her white hair behind her right ear. Her look was curious.


    “What’s that?”


    “A druid memorial…not quite as permanent as dwarven headstones, but much prettier…”


    Pulling one of the prairifire crabapple seeds from her satchel, Lunish repeated the steps she had followed by the riverside. Iskvold stood frozen, her mouth agape as the gnome’s magical touch coaxed the seed into a twenty-foot tree, replete with vibrant pink flowers – a feat that left her speechless.


    “It’s gorgeous!” Iskvold breathed.


    Gasps rose from the nearby courtyard as everyone outside stopped to watch the tree’s ascent and bloom.


    “Want to help do the rest?” Lunish asked.


    “Just try and stop me!” She replied with a grin, extending her cupped hand.


    The druid passed her a handful of seeds, and the two worked quickly through the fading evening light. The drow woman planted one at the head of each grave while Lunish followed, performing the cantrip. The rest of the abbey’s occupants drifted over to watch the display.


    When they finished, an honor guard of twenty-one bright pink, flowered trees stood like evenly spaced sentries guarding the road approaching the Luminarium. Their rich, sweet fragrance hung in the air while the pollen sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. A cheer went up from the onlookers as Iskvold dropped to her knees before embracing the gnomish woman in a long hug.


    “Thank you!” She whispered. “You have no idea how much this means to me…to all of us!”


    The evening meal was a send-off feast. Having survived on scraps and rations for the last two days, the group leaned into the fresh supplies provided by their sister abbey. Ham, turnips, and potatoes graced the table. The mood had lightened, and for the first time in several days, the sound of laughter echoed through the stone corridors of the Luminarium. Animated conversation replaced silent despair. Hope had returned.


    Sifu stood by the kitchen doors to the mess and rapped the metal-capped butt of his staff against the stone floor to quiet the crowd. Its ring echoed off the walls and ceiling.


    “I want to begin tonight with gratitude. Gratitude to the Verdant Blades for their military support and assistance.” He raised his glass, and a chorus of table slapping filled the room. “And to our newest members - Ayre and Kellam - who volunteered to join our order from the Crystal Dawn. Thank you for the food and supplies in our hour of need.” More hooting and table slapping. “Most of all, thank you for the fresh linens and mats. I see most of us have already taken advantage, and it’s less gamey in here already!” Sparse laughter broke out around the room. Haft nodded to the visitors, “…and finally, gratitude to those who go forward tomorrow seeking justice for our fallen. For your assistance in putting our dead to rest and your willingness to pick up our cause, we will never forget it!” The room erupted in smiles, backslapping, and applause.


    Haft lowered his head, waiting for the fervor to die down.  Realizing he had more to say, the din tailed off. His tone was more subdued as he resumed.


    “As some may know, I’ve been doing this for a long time. Forty-five years of service to Kord, and more than thirty leading this order.” He drew a deep breath, exhaling audibly. “But I realized something this afternoon, as plans were made to go after these wretched creatures…I realized for the first time that my days as an adventurer are over.” He felt a tightness in his chest as his voice broke, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I still have much to offer this place and our order, but when the time came to decide who was going to carry our battle standard into the wildlands, I had to be honest with myself.”


    “Bullshit!” broke the silence, its speaker indeterminable within the crowd.


    Sifu held up his hand. “No, no, it’s okay. These old bones have seen too many winters to run around after demons, and I’m at peace with that.” He wiped the tear from his cheek. But I’ve been holding onto a couple of things, and I think this is the appropriate time to pass them on.” He straightened. His eyes searched the crowd for the drow. “Iskvold?” He beckoned her forward. As she joined him, Haft held the staff out to her. “I acquired this after an altercation in some two-horse town on the northern coast. I call her ‘BFT’ – Blunt Force Trauma!” He paused as chuckles rose from the crowd. “She has a bit of magic in her. Not much, but she served me well for a long time and cracked many a deserving skull. I’d be honored if you carried it from now on.” The room clapped as the drow accepted the staff and embraced the smaller man in a hug. Haft subtly wiped his sleeve across his moistening eyes before they separated.


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    His eyes searched the crowd once more. “Tsuta?” The bald monk rose and moved to stand beside his master. Haft reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out an oval brooch. It was crafted from fine silver and featured the carved image of a beetle, circled by elven glyphs. His gaze lingered on the silver pin, a wistful smile crept across his face. Shaking himself from the memories, he presented the brooch to his protégé,


    “This is a Scarab of Protection. It will help keep you safe. It was passed down to me from my Sifu when I became the master of the Luminarium.” He broke into a smile. “Now don’t get the wrong idea…you don’t get to be Sifu - I’m keeping that job! But hopefully, it will come in handy in the battles ahead.” Once again, a chorus of applause broke out as Tsuta bowed low before retreating to his seat.


    “I realize that for several of you, this is also goodbye. Please know you are always welcome here, and don’t be strangers!” He raised his glass one final time. “Now, let’s eat!”


    Between the scarce food and the heavy workload of clearing and restoring the abbey, everyone had worked up quite an appetite. Darkness had fallen before the last bites were eaten. Seeing the half-elven wizard alone, with his spell book and parchment spread out on the floor in front of him, quill in hand, Whydah’s curiosity got the better of her.


    “What’cha doin’ Glynnie?” The halfling gazed down on the book of magical inscriptions the wizard was comparing to a nearby scroll.


    “Just copying a couple of new spells I got from Grym’s friend – the draconian.”


    “Sweet! Anything I can use as well?”


    The wizard stopped and raised his head.


    “I hadn’t thought about that…maybe! Have a look at these.” Returning to his transcription, he raised two scrolls into the air. Whydah studied first one, then the other.


    “This one – Banish – won’t work for me, but I think Tsuta can learn it…” She tucked the top scroll behind the second. “But this one – Dimension Door - looks awesome! I’ll need to play around with it to make it work musically. Can I keep this?” Whydah asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.


    Glynfir replied without looking up. “Be my guest! I’ve already got those two copied. They’re all yours!”  Whydah thanked him and padded off through the crowded mess hall in search of her bald friend.


    She found him tucked away in the corner with Bird. The two were chatting conspiratorially while surveying the room. The cat flashed her a smile before flicking his head in their direction, suggesting she join them.


    “So…” the tabby dragged his words slightly until Whydah was within earshot, finishing in a hushed tone. “…How much do they know?” His eyes scanned the room’s occupants, vigilantly guarding the privacy of their conversation.


    “Nothing,” Tsuta replied flatly, matching Bird’s volume. He idly thumbed the scarab he’d recently pinned to the inside overlap of his clean, pale orange robes.


    “Tsuta!” Whydah scolded him. “You’ve been here more than a year…and haven’t told anyone?”


    The monk shrugged, his face expressionless. “Why would I? It never came up…”


    Bird made a sound resembling a combination of laughter and purring. “Of course, it didn’t.”


    “Tsuta-people share things about themselves with others to build relationships. It’s called friendship!” She gestured emphatically, “It’s okay to trust your friends – it’s how we all cope!”


    Bird did his purring chuckle again, amused by how Whydah spoke to the monk – as if he were a small child.


    It was clear from Tsuta’s expression that he either didn’t understand or didn’t agree.


    “No. This is different. The fate of an entire nation is at stake. I wouldn’t have even told you… if you hadn’t been there when they came for me in Chydamor.”


    “So, they don’t know about the medallion…” Bird nodded towards the monk’s chest. “...Or the emperor’s wife...or even Dojyu?”


    “Nope. None of it,” the monk said abruptly, shaking his head.


    “You’re a funny man, Stick!” The cat’s brow furrowed. “Where do they think you’re from?”


    Tsuta nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, still unclear why this was important to his friends. “An order in southern Glahaneth. They don’t ask a lot of questions when you join a monastery…”


    Bird placed a hand on his shoulder. “Okay…Well, you know your secrets are safe with us.”


    “Thanks, Whiskers.”


    Whydah was less accepting. “Tsuta, we have no idea where all this…” She swept her hand across the crowded room. “...is going to go. If they find you again, you’ll put everyone in danger! Last time, you barely survived, and we both know they won’t stop coming!” She poked her small halfling finger into his chest. “They have a right to know. They’re your friends, and they’ll want to help you!”


    Whydah felt her cheeks flush and shook her head in exasperation. “I was really hurt that we went through so much together, and you hadn’t bothered to tell me about any of it until you had no choice!” She regained control of her emotions, her tone dropping. “I guarantee they will be, too.”


    Bird laughed out loud.


    Whydah felt her heart begin to race as she rounded on him, eyes flashing. “What’s so funny?”


    The cat raised his hands in surrender, leaning back into the wall. “I’m sorry! It just made me laugh that, here we are, a couple of thieves, lecturing a monk on effective personal relationships!”


    Her eyes narrowed. Raising one eyebrow in his direction, the corners of her lips curled upward as she struggled to contain a small smirk. “First of all, you’re the thief…I’m a musician. And second, you weren’t doing any lecturing at all…you were perfectly willing to let him continue as he has been!”


    Sensing he had successfully defused her anger, Bird smiled, nodding in apology. “I stand corrected!”


    Whydah’s eyes widened, shifting to Tsuta. “I almost forgot why I came over here in the first place!” She handed him the scroll. “Glynnie got this from the hermit. Can you cast it?”


    The monk scrutinized the parchment momentarily, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I think so-yes. It’s written for a wizard, but I can adjust it.” He paused as he continued to read. “This will send a demon back to the lower planes – permanently. That’s huge! Thanks, Short Stuff!”


    “Mmm-hmm,” was all she said, turning to walk away before calling over her shoulder. “Tell them Tsuta! It’s ok to be vulnerable with your friends!” Her voice was a mixture of frustration and concern.


    Bird rolled his eyes at the monk behind her back.


    “Do you know what she’s talking about- being ‘vulnerable’?”


    “No clue.” The cat replied, “I’ve found it easier just to agree, and then feign ignorance if it comes up again later!”