To make up for the fact that the last chapter was so short, this one is pretty hefty. I hope I'm not rushing things too much as I get closer to the end, and realize just how much story I still have to pack in here. In case you're wondering what it is that Strix is remembering, it's a reference to the PAX East 2018 Acq Inc game she was in (which probably isn't canon, but like the Descent live games, it's fun to work in a reference to them).

Strix sat atop a mound of garbage deep inside the belly of the giant warmachine. The smells, goopy textures, and occasional vermin did not particularly bother her, even though she had been sitting there for what must have been days. Rather, they triggered memories of her younger days when she had been forced to fend for herself in the streets of Waterdeep, and even earlier, in the rundown alleys of the Hive. A surprising amount of treasure could be uncovered in a trash pile, though she knew it was not the same as the gems and gold that Diath was always after. Yet Strix got the same sense of euphoria and pride whenever she uncovered a piece of discarded food that had not yet gone bad, or found the corpse of a strange creature she had never seen before. Corpses had even been a form of currency with the Dustmen, sometimes earning her food that no one had else had even taken a bite from yet! Other people preferred to be paid with odd pieces of metal, but Strix thought jink was dumb and served no useful purpose. After she had her own bakery, she let Diath deal with the financial side of things, still disliking the whole concept of money. Why couldn't she just give her pies to whoever wanted one?

"Ah, so dat's where yous been hiding. Y'always did like to be covered in muck."

Strix frowned at the imp as it flew down towards her. "What's that supposed to mean?" she growled, wondering if she should toss a piece of garbage at it.

Umpox shook his head. "Doncha remember, back when we was both working for da Sewn Sisters. You had moss growing on yer face and hells knows what you were using fer clothes. I do miss those days," sighed the imp, settling himself on some broken furniture.

Strix was annoyed that the imp continued to confuse her with the disgusting clone of herself the hags had made. As a matter of fact, she had purposefully picked the garbage chute as her hiding spot to mask her tiefling scent, as it was pretty hard to stay hidden in a vessel filled with were-creatures who had a super sense of smell. But her argument was instantly forgotten when she heard his next question.

"You think my mistress will ever find a coven of other hags to belong to?"

Strix sputtered in shock. "What!?" she shrieked.

"So she can make a Hag Eye," he explained, as if it were obvious. "Ah miss having one to carry around. When dem Sisters weren't using it, they let me tune in to the Witch Network and spy on what other hags were watching. It was darn good entertainment."

At the mention of a Witch Network, Strix had a sudden recollection of herself trapped on an island with Omin, Morgaen and Viari, competing with numerous other adventurers. One of the competitors actually had a magical eyeball following him around that he would talk to, as if conversing with an audience. He had mentioned the Witch Network... but wait, that whole thing had just been a crazy dream of hers, right?

"Anyhoo, ah just came ta letcha know we've arrived at da Emporium."

"Oh thank god!" cried Strix in relief, grabbing a bag she had filled with interesting things she had collected in the trash. "I can't wait to show these to Evelyn!"

Umpox chuckled. "She's a touch busy at da moment. And even if she survives, ah don't think she'll care about your trinkets no more."

Strix's arm shot out and grabbed the imp by the tail. She felt the same dark power from before begin to try to take over her mouth again. Before it could do so, she quickly spat out, "Show me!"

Umpox seemed to know better than to argue, and flew up through the chute opening. Strix cast a fresh invisibility spell on herself with the staff and turned it back into a broom, jumping onto it to join the imp as it navigated around the warmachine's inner chambers. Finally they found themselves in an open arena, where Strix was relieved to see that Evelyn was unhurt, though she was still in werewolf form. Strix had been very unnerved to learn that Evelyn was a lycanthrope again, and wondered if her 'remove curse' spell might have failed somehow. Surely Evelyn wouldn't have intentionally gotten herself cursed again, even if she had often talked about missing her cute furry form.

"Do it!" snarled a black werewolf standing next to Evelyn. Strix could see that there was also a brown female on the ground in front of them, with burns on her pelt from what Strix had to assume was the giant flaming sword being held in Evelyn's grip. The wounded creature shifted back into human form and shielded her naked body with her hands. This did not seem to deter Evelyn, who raised her sword as if to make another strike.

"Wait Evelyn!" cried Strix, who had trouble believing her friend would attack someone defenseless, no matter how evil they might be. It's like the rakshasa all over again, she thought grimly to herself. When her plea seemed to have no effect, Strix called out the only spell that ever came to mind during times of emergency: polymorph.

The female werewolf on the ground turned into a small insect, one Strix had chosen intentionally to be too small for Evelyn to see or smell. Unfortunately, casting the spell also caused her invisibility spell to fizzle out. Enraged, the werepom spun around just as Strix landed her broom, doing so at a safe distance, just in case.

"Who are you to interfere in my pack's business?" growled the black male, furious.

"Strixxxx," said Evelyn, having difficulty making human words in that form.

"H-hi Evelyn," said Strix nervously. "Guess what, we've reached the Emporium, yay! Now we can go free those souls and go home."

"I am home," the werepom said, then threw up her head and howled. In answer, other creatures joined in the cry from multiple locations within the warmachine. The mixture of echoing sounds was at once both terrifying and entrancing. But Strix quickly shook it off and approached her friend, aiming her staff protectively out in front of her.

"You're not yourself, Evelyn. These guys aren't your family. Me, Paultin, Simon and the others... we're your family." Strix gulped as she saw Evelyn begin to come closer, and quickly pulled something out of her bag. "And look - look what I found in the trash!" She waved the items out in front of her, and Evelyn halted her approach with a look of consternation.

The black werewolf glanced at the two pieces of tattered clothing and barked a laugh. "Ah yes, those were on that little wooden boy we found a while back. Completely worthless."

Evelyn's eyes seemed to glow red as she turned to face the black one. "What did you do with Simon?!"

The other werewolf looked at her in surprise. "Simon? That thing was garbage, no flesh on him at all. Wouldn't even have made a good chew toy."

Evelyn leaped at the other creature with her jaws wide open, closing them around his neck. He cried out angrily and swiped at her with his claws, knocking her off him. She was immediately back on her feet, this time with the Sword of Spinelli in both hands. Suddenly the black one seemed to be covered in wisps of dark shadows. Strix gasped, recognizing this as something the werewolf leader who had fought them at the winter cabin had also possessed.

"Evelyn, look out!" Strix cried, not knowing if she realized the danger she was in. Those necrotic shadows would sap away at her strength if she got too close, and still allow the black one to hurt her with its claws.

"You will obey me!" growled the pack leader, and Evelyn shook her head, seeming to fight off some kind of compulsion. With a growl of her own, she appeared to be drawing strength from some hidden source, and suddenly smokey wisps began to surround her as well.

The black werewolf's muzzle curved into a smile. "I see the Night Mother has blessed you as well. I knew that we were meant to lead this pack together. Now stand down, and accept your place as my mate!"

It only took a second for Evelyn to swing the giant flamesword around and sever the black one's head from his shoulders.

Strix watched the battle unfold in stunned silence. She was relieved Evelyn had won, but did not at all like the sight of black shadows now swirling protectively over her body. The Night Mother was a Barovian deity that Strix had learned about from Baba Lysaga, who had visited her during the fifty years she has spent alone in the swamp, and had shown her the blood magics that would slow the aging process. But this was not Barovia, and Strix wondered what dark god might be claiming that title here.

"Give me Simon's things!" growled Evelyn, and the trash witch yelped and quickly tossed them over.

Evelyn resheathed the blade onto her back, then howled once more. This time the others came running, yipping in their eagerness to please her. Strix got back on her broom and hovered over them, as the arena filled with a sea of furry bodies. Evelyn stood at its center, wreathed in smoke, and raised Simon's clothing aloft.

"Find the one these belong to! Bring him to me unharmed!" she commanded. The wolves instantly scattered in all directions. The arena was once again empty except for Evelyn, Umpox and Strix. And possibly the injured werewolf Strix had turned into a bug, which had hopefully not just been trampled.

"Come," Evelyn growled over her shoulder at them, as she dropped to all fours and began running.

Strix and Umpox exchanged worried glances and hastened to follow.

SOME TIME IN SIGIL'S PAST

Diath pored over the books in the library, trying to find ones whose symbols matched those in the book Alise Keladonna had secretly handed to him - the book that Binwin had uncovered in the rashkasa's home, which the Cassalanter imps had then stolen. Alise had made a point to pass the book on to Diath in the final moments before she expected Asmodeus to come claim her soul. Diath could only hope that she was still in control of her actions at that point, and that this was a genuine attempt for her to make amends to him. What secrets might that book be hiding?

He wondered if his recent ability to read magical texts might also give him an edge here, but the writing in the rashkasa's tome seemed not only magical, but in a completely different language. He thought the symbols resembled those he had briefly glimpsed in the spellbook the hags had stolen from Mr. Fox, but Diath had handed it over to Strix and not a chance to study it. His eyes roved hopefully over the rows and rows of books in the library, but he doubted Shemeshka would have been careless enough to leave that one lying around.

The sound of unfamiliar voices in the corridor startled him, and he quickly rose from the table and crept to the library door. He then realized that the voices actually were somewhat familiar, but this was the last place he would have expected to find either of those people. He pulled out Gutter and marched angrily into the hallway.

"Ah, he appears," said the Vistani crone, leaning against a one-armed brute for support.

"Madam Eva," nodded Diath, before passing a cold stare onto Izek. "You two are a long way from Barovia. And forgive me for saying so, but I'm a little surprised that Shemeshka let you in."

The old woman chuckled mirthlessly. "She knows I'm harmless, and probably hopes to overhear a few secrets. But I know her part in all this, and I trust her not to sell my words to wrong people."

Diath still glared at Izek, but Strix's brother made no attempt to meet his eyes. Eva noticed Diath's gaze, and muttered a request for Izek to find her a seat. He nodded and made a wide berth around Diath before scampering through the doorway to the library.

"He won't harm you again. The Skizziks have disowned him, and he no longer has tiefling features as you can see," Eva told him reassuringly.

Diath frowned, remembering what Izek had told them in the Shadowfell. "He said I had made him lose the arm, after I stabbed it to make him let go of our carriage. But that never made sense, since he still had both arms when he attacked us at Paultin's fake wedding."

Eva shook her head. "Lady Wachter caught Izek in her basement after Strix had convinced him to invade her home. She then used her magics to wipe his memory and make him *think* that was what had made him lose the arm, and to then convince him to steal that doll of Strahd out of Guantylgrim and bring it to you. I suppose she hoped you would be nearby when my brother was released, and that he could then take his revenge on you and recover his strength from your blood."

Diath watched Izek carry out a large armchair with his one hand and place it behind the old Vistani, helping to ease her into it. Despite Eva's words, Diath could not help but be suspicious of Strix's brother. Brother...

"Wait a minute, did you just say that Strahd was your brother?"

The fortuneteller smiled, showing her crooked yellow teeth. "Maybe you remember me better as Madam Katarina? Yes, I have met you twice before, in different versions of that dark plane. My magic allows me to exist in and foresee all the myriad dimensions of the Dark Powers' playground. Our magics are tied to one another, a fate which we cannot escape...a fate which will forever haunt my bloodline."

"Paultin," muttered Diath in realization, remembering his vision in Dendar's temple of the bard looking eerily similar to Strahd, but with eyes glowing blue from the power of the Ring of Winter. "What's his role been in all this?"

Eva looked down at her long wrinkled fingers and frowned. "Yes, my great-grandson, many generations removed. That he has survived this long uncorrupted is a testimony to the powerful light shining within the souls of you and your friends. Tying his destiny to yours was the only path of salvation I could foresee for him. That is why I ordered his parents to rescue Strix and Izek out of Barovia and bring them back to Sigil, where the Wachters could not reach them and fulfill Asmodeus's plans. But then this one had to escape and run back to Barovia like a fool!" The crone swatted at Izek, who shrunk back fearfully.

Diath looked back and forth between Izek and Eva, trying to decide if he could trust them. "You said Izek was disowned by the Skizziks and that's why he lost the arm-"

"The Ashtown Concordance forbids their family from interfering with yours. Izek should not have been able to harm you, except that Asmodeus knew of a loophole. He created an even stronger tie to Izek, one whose orders superseded all other contracts." She nudged the brute with her elbow and commanded, "Show him!"

The one-armed man fished something out of his pocket, then handed it sullenly over Diath, recoiling slightly as their fingers made contact. Diath looked down at the small object. It was a black rectangles with the symbol of a barbed 'S' at the top. Flipping it over, he was startled to find his own name engraved into the card.

"That is a kill order from an entity known as the Shadow Council. Or more accurately, a break off branch calling itself the Umbra that takes orders directly from Asmodeus himself. Their people reached out to Izek and recuited him, turning him into an enforcer not only for the deluded burgomaster of Vallaki, but an assassin for the hells. He and Lady Wachter were unknowingly working on the same side all along."

Izek growled at that remark, but did not seem to have the nerve to speak out against Eva. Diath put the card into his pouch to examine later. "So tell me, why was it so important for Asmodeus to kill me? He's had plenty of chances since then, but the Skizziks seem to have mostly been after Strix. At least they were, before she changed her name."

Eva slapped the arm of the chair, startling the two men. "Weren't you paying attention? I told you Izek lost his tiefling features when he was disowned by the Skizziks. While the Umbra do have certain perks from the hells, a direct blood tie to Asmodeus isn't one of them. But Strix is still a tiefling, and her sorcerer magic is still fueled by Asmodeus's divine powers. So what does that tell you?"

Diath felt his knees buckle, and wished *he* had a chair to fall into. "It means Strix is still tied to Asmodeus," the rogue said, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, this Beestinger family might have a link of their own with that devious devil, in which case the name change did nothing at all! It's no wonder he went along with it, letting the rest of you grow complacent. As for why he wants your death, yours is the only Lorcatha soul not already in his possession. When he is able to claim all of you, he will be able to represent you in the contract signed by the celestial forces and your family, a contract that grants them access to heavenly powers and the upper planes. He will invade and desecrate their holy lands, creating legions of new devils that can invade the Abyss and finally end the Blood War. All the planes will belong to him. That is the future we are trying to stop."

Diath's head spun with all this new information. Others had tried to hint to him what it meant to be a Lorcatha and the importance of his soul, but this was the first time anyone had bothered to explain why. This wasn't just about keeping his distance from Strix because of an ancient family feud. This was about keeping evil from taking over all of existence.

The old woman motioned to Izek to help her climb to her feet, then nodded at Diath and said, "All right, I've passed on my message. The rest is up to you."

Diath felt panic overwhelm him. "w-wait, what are we supposed to do now?" He glanced quickly over to Izek, who was slowly guiding Eva back towards the mansion entrance. Hoping to stall for time, he asked the brute, "Don't you want to talk to your sister?"

Izek grumbled, "She won't want to see me. Do us all a favor and don't tell her we were ever here."

As they were about to reach the door, Eva called back to him, "Take good care of my grandson! Don't worry, you will see each other again."

Paultin focused a wary eye on the rogue seated across from him, while also trying to keep tabs on the rest of their party. Diath's table was surprisingly well shadowed and at an angle hidden from most other diners in the tavern. The 'kids' were eating by themselves closer to the fireplace, with Simon proudly narrating their recent adventures to catch his friends up. He definitely had the makings of a good bard, Paultin thought. Maybe he should have a talk with him about at least trying it as a subclass...

"It's a good thing those others showed up. We can trust them to keep an eye on Shem while we hunt down the Umbra," said Diath in a low voice.

Paultin fingered the empty wine glass in front of him instead of meeting Diath's gaze. "I dunno. Evelyn trusted me to look after the kid, and I don't feel right just leaving him behind. Plus he really seems to want to help solve Sandra's murder."

"He was trying to take up my debts in my stead," snorted Diath, shaking his head. "But I'm here now, and I have my own score to settle with the Umbra."

Paultin quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to be after those exes of yours? You told me they weren't directly involved."

Diath took something small and rectangular out of his pouch and slipped it across the table to Paultin. The bard looked at it uncertainly, not recognizing the symbol on the card, but on its reverse side he could clearly make out the words 'Diath Woodrow'.

"The Umbra hand those out to assassins to mark their targets. There was probably once one with your wife's name on it, too."

Paultin could feel his lips tighten into a very thin line as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Other than the coin, this was the first solid piece of evidence he had that his wife's death wasn't just some random act of violence. He had tried to argue with the City Watch that there had to have been some nefarious motive behind it, but they had dismissed it as a common burglary gone bad, perhaps because Sandra had unexpectedly walked in on the thieves, startling them.

Paultin handed it back to Diath with a trembling hand, but the rogue shook his head and said, "Keep it." Diath then suddenly looked up, as if reacting to something, and whispered, "Cast dimension door to take us thirty feet down into the sewer below us. Hurry!"

Paultin looked back at him uncertainly, but after years of taking orders from Diath, he didn't hesitate long. A swirling gateway appeared beside them, leading into darkness. Diath instantly leaped through, and Paultin was stuck deciding whether to jump in after him or go grab the others. But his spell would only transport the caster and one other, so no one else could go through. Throwing one last look of regret and Simon and Shem, Paultin passed into the magical doorway.

He expected to land in something wet, with the all-too familiar smell of sewage assaulting his nose. To his surprise, the passageway he found himself in was clean and dry, faintly lit by interspersed torches that indicated that someone had passed through there recently.

"You knew this place was here?" asked Paultin in surprise.

Instead of answering, Diath led him further into the tunnel, which began to slope slightly downwards. Just as Paultin was beginning to have second thoughts, they came upon a smooth slab of stone blocking their path, with a triangular mark etched directly in its center. As he came closer, Paultin could make out three robed skeletons drawn inside the symbol, one of which seemed to be holding some kind of eye.

"Put that card I gave you up to the engraving," instructed Diath.

Paultin reached for his pocket and drew out the object, but then paused. There once had a been a time when he would have proceeded recklessly and tried anything out of the ordinary, just for the excitement of seeing what might happen. Letting the snerson lick him, putting on the Ring of Winter, hitting the gong in the yuant-ti temple, pressing the button on Warrington's bomb... After all, a bard's job was to entertain! But as he spent more time being sober and realizing all the things he now had to live for, he became less inclined to put himself or his family at risk.

"What happens if I do?" asked Paultin suspiciously. But Diath made an exasperated sound and grabbed his hand, physically dragging it and the card over the symbol. There was a mechanical click as some kind of magical light pulsed over the symbol, and the slab rumbled as it slowly sank into the ground.

"Come on," urged Diath, disappearing into the shadows beyond the now open entrance. This time the torches were farther apart and flickering wildly, despite the fact that the air was completely still. It reminded Paultin somewhat of the creepy hallways inside of the black building where the monks had initially brought them. If the Umbra were supposed to be a rogue branch of the Shadow Council, he supposed it made sense that they liked the same decor. Still, this overt display of their occult magic unnerved him. What the hell was he doing here, with only Diath as backup? The latter was leading him purposefully through the hallways as if he had been here before. After several left turns, he stopped before an open doorway, then reached down to lift out a long serrated knife that had been hidden inside his boot. Paultin's eyes widened as Diath flipped the knife and grabbed it by the blade in midair, pointing the handle at Paultin.

"Go ahead, take it. You'll need something sharp."

Paultin took the proffered weapon, but he did not like the look of it. The triangle symbol was also engraved onto the metal, which gleamed darkly. What was he supposed to do with this? But when Diath grabbed a torch from the wall and walked into the room, illuminating its occupants, Paultin began to have an idea.

The torchlight flickered over two prisoners bound in iron chains on the floor, a large muscular woman with half-orc features, and a scrawny bearded man. The man whimpered as Diath approached, and the rogue laughed and aimed a kick at his ribs, causing him to fold over. The woman glared at Diath but said nothing.

"Paultin, I'd like to introduce you to Rulissa and Kagen, my two exes. They were once handed that card you're now holding, but as you can see, they failed in their mission."

The man-Kagen?-began to inch towards Paultin as far as the chains would allow. "Please sir, he's gone mad! Don't listen to him!"

Paultin was quite ready to accept that Diath had indeed gone mad. What was this? Sure, he and Diath had messed around with the whole 'good cop, bad cop' routine, and he had even tortured that doppelganger for information on Manshoon, but this was different. Diath had been hurt by these two, from what little Paultin could recall of the time an elvan bard had decided to buy fifty pies and for whatever reason they had all decided to spill their backstories to her. But if Diath already had them tied up, what more was there to do? And what was he expecting Paultin to do?

"I know they're not Sandra's murderers, but sadly, I discovered those people were already dead. So instead, I'll give you the pleasure of taking it out on these two. Don't worry, I'll get my own satisfaction by watching you work."

Shocked, Paultin grabbed Diath and pulled him back out into the hallway. When they were out of sight of the two prisoners, he hissed at the rogue, "What the hell, dude?!"

Diath's eyes narrowed. "I told you her murderers are out of reach. So if you want your revenge, these will have to do."

"That's not what I meant!" growled Paultin in frustration. But what exactly did he mean? What had he planned to do if he ever actually met those responsible? Did he want to dish out the same pain that had once been dealt to him, or was it enough just to know that they were dead? Apparently, that was already the case... so what now?

"You've been given a chance here, Paultin. Don't blow it."

The only thing Paultin knew for sure was that he was not going to torture two people tied up helplessly on the ground, even if Diath told him they deserved it. There were dark things Paultin had done in his past that he still hadn't fully lived down: agreeing to work for Strahd so that he could escape his castle, using Falkon's falling body to cushion his own as they fell, creating a simulacrum of himself to fool his family into thinking he had forgiven them, and then drawing them into the Shadowfell to destroy them. Sure, the last two happened while he was wearing the Ring of Winter, but could he be certain there wasn't some part of him that actually agreed with those plans? Whatever the case was then, he knew that now, he was in control of his own actions.

Paultin tossed the knife onto the ground. "Do your own dirty work, Diath," the bard muttered in disgust.

A chuckle from the doorway startled him, and Paultin spun around to see the last person he would have ever expected.