A ray of sunlight cut through the blackness, causing Myanna to stir slightly. Pain, which she had been unaware of in her unconscious state, instantly arrested her movement, becoming her new default state as she tried to relax into the bed. Opening her eyes to examine herself, Myanna found that the bed she lay in was her own. She was back in the tower in Willowridge. Her body was covered in bandages stained with the amber color of her blood. Her limbs were restrained by splints in several places to allow them to heal.

The small end table nearest her had been cleared and stocked with a variety of healing potions, tinctures, poultices, and a single dark green candle she didn’t recognize. The light through the window signaled morning, but she had no way of knowing which morning it was. She could have been unconscious for a night or much longer, and it would all be the same to her. The cuirizu attempted to raise a hand when a jolt of incredible pain caused her to second-guess it. As much as it hurt, she found the sensation preferable to the vast nothingness of death.

The sun felt good on her skin, even through the copious bandages she had been wrapped in. She closed her eyes, deciding she could afford to savor the feeling before attempting to get up again. When next she opened her eyes, it was well past noon, with the sunlight no longer shining in from the narrow window of her room. Frowning, she glanced around to see Fenan going through some of the potions at her bedside. The Shackleborn noticed Myanna’s eyes upon her and smirked.

“You look like shit,” she said matter-of-factly, choosing a cool blue vial from the assortment. She took a moment to pop the stopper and sniff it to be sure it was the one she wanted.

“A house fell on me,” Myanna replied in a pained grumble. “I’m lucky to be alive.”

Fenan snorted, holding up one finger. “First of all, a house didn’t fall on you. You fought a house, which is an insane thing to be saying aloud.” The tiefling leaned closer to see if Myanna wanted to take the vial herself or if she would require help. “Second, luck had nothing to do with it. You were so out of your mind with the shit you inhaled that you could have probably punched a hole in the moon if we had a way to get you there.”

As much as it pained her to do so, Myanna took the vial and brought it to her lips. They had only lighter healing potions on hand, so the healing she received from the saccharine fluid as it traveled down her throat wasn’t dramatic. With the punishment her body had been through, she hardly noticed a difference.

“We don’t have anything more potent than this?” Myanna asked as she handed the vial back to Fenan. She found the ice blue of the shackleborn’s eyes to be unexpectedly comforting to wake up to.

“Unfortunately, no,” Fenan answered with a sigh. “Whatever you did out there kicked over a hornet’s nest. The Obsidian Court launched an assault only a day after we got you out.”

“Day after?” Myanna asked, turning her head to face Fenan as much as her neck would allow. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Four or five days,” Fenan answered somberly, knowing too well the time limit imposed on the cuirizu by the goddess. “But I suspect everyone is more concerned with larger matters at the moment. Which is probably why the potions available to us here are locked down.”

Sighing, Myanna turned her gaze back to the window on the other side of the room. All her efforts had been in vain, and things were arguably worse than when she’d left. She had no doubt in her mind that the vampires of the Obsidian Court were responding to the loss of their asset at the estate. Without Tobias, the supplies they had been siphoning off the Abyssals had been cut off. Moreover, she had destroyed the creature Tobias had become. Vampires of the Obsidian Court often took it personally when one of their own or someone under their control was suddenly slain.

“I’m sure you’ll be well enough to stand by the time they decide to execute you,” Fenan remarked, half-joking. “Sun and water, right?”

Myanna grunted in the affirmative. “And time, of course.”

“I wish there were more I could do for you,” the tiefling added sincerely as she ran a hand through her short, black hair. “But I’m very limited on what I can get away with. Much of this came from my personal stock. The Quartermaster and Requisitions office has no interest in allocating much for you right now.”

“I’m surprised Salak hasn’t fled yet,” Myanna commented absently. “He must know I won’t keep silent on what he’s done.”

Fenan’s brows furrowed as she leaned closer to the wounded cuirizu. “What are you talking about?”

Myanna realized that neither Onesa nor Drusilla, wherever they were right now, had the full scope of what had been happening with Tobias. Each of them had pieces, but she had been the one to get the whole picture. “Tobias Wickes was a vetala, and his estate was responsible for providing us with some of the reagents we need.”

“Alright, I understand that part,” Fenan acknowledged. “But what does it have to do with Salak.”

“His wife, Drusilla, was under the distinct impression that the proper yield from their crops had been delivered to Willowridge by Lord Wickes personally. She oversaw much of the business there, and I’m convinced she would not have miscounted the shipment even once, much less dozens of times,” Myanna explained slowly. A wound had opened inside her mouth, making it difficult to speak at length. “He had more than enough there to keep us supplied.”

“You think Salak was in on it somehow?” Fenan speculated.

“He had to have been,” Myanna concluded. “Either he doctored the numbers during intake, or he was involved in funneling the supplies out after the fact. If Drusilla is still here, you can compare the numbers she knows with what’s in the ledgers to determine which scenario it is.”

“I’ll speak with her,” the tiefling agreed. “You get some rest, and I’ll be back tomorrow to check in on you.”

“Has Onesa given a report already?” Myanna asked as Fenan stood.

The overseer spread her hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since she brought you back. I have no idea where she is, though that’s not particularly strange from how she normally operates.”

Myanna’s eyes crept slowly from the tiefling to scan the rest of the room, expecting to see her motionless in the shadows waiting for her chance to speak. “Alright. If you see her, tell her I’d like to speak with her.”

“Of course,” Fenan agreed as she approached the door. Her hand lingered on the latch awkwardly for a moment before finally opening the door and stepping out.

Myanna closed her eyes again, allowing herself to drift off after a time. It was perhaps the most sleep she’d had in quite a while, but it was sorely needed, with her body working hard to recover from the vast array of injuries she had suffered in the fight with Tobias.

She woke again sometime after dark as the sound of a match being struck nearby stirred her from her slumber. Furrowing her brows, she looked over to see a hooded figure hunched over the end table with the potions. The candle that stood among them had been lit, dimly illuminating the contours of Salak’s face.

“You’re a bold one,” Myanna commented, grabbing his attention immediately. “What do you want, Salak?”

He pushed the hood back a little as he turned to face her, a sneer of disgust on his face. “I came to see your condition. I wanted to know whether it was likely that you would recover.”

Myanna shifted her weight in the bed, still in too much pain to sit fully upright. “Curious whether you need to finish the job?”

The necromancer shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I resolved to end you after the humiliation I suffered at your hand. It was merely a question of how.”

“And what did you arrive at?” Myanna wondered dryly.

Salak’s face split into a wicked grin, pleased that she had asked. “Something subtle,” he answered. “I’d prefer if everyone believed you simply succumbed to your wounds.”

The necromancer motioned to the candle on the end table amid the potions and poultices. “I’ve mixed a potent defoliant into this candle I had sent up earlier, designed specifically for you. As it burns through the night, you’ll grow weaker, eventually dying uneventfully in your sleep. I thought someone would have lit it for you already, but alas, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Myanna glanced between the candle and Salak with little concern in her eyes. “Not a bad idea. But what precautions have you taken to prevent me from acting on this information?”

Salak shrugged. “Your condition more than limits your movement, but out of an abundance of caution, I’ve added a little extra to the mixture that acts as a paralytic for fiends like yourself while leaving me completely unharmed.”

“Fiendseize Unguent?” It was a fairly common thing to keep in a standard necromancer’s kit, and Myanna didn’t suspect him to be the type to reinvent the wheel if he didn’t have to. Adding it to a candle to be inhaled was mildly creative, though.

“Just so,” Salak confirmed smugly, looking her over without a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Impressive,” Myanna remarked. “Only, you overlooked a key detail.”

Salak rolled his eyes arrogantly before smacking his lips. “And what, pray tell, would that be?”

With as much focus and control as she could muster, Myanna lifted one hand, much to Salak’s surprise. Calmly and steadily, she pointed to the candle at her bedside as the necromancer’s eyes tracked her movement in disbelief. “That’s not the candle you left here earlier.”

Salak’s eyes darted from her hand to the candle, to her face, and then back to the candle as he tried to process the information she had just given him and contextualize it. As he did, he stepped back to put some distance between himself and Myanna. By the candle’s light, he noticed another that looked identical to it quietly roll along the floor from between his feet. He looked at Myanna fearfully for only a second before turning his head to look into the darkness behind him. From the opposite side of where he was looking, Onesa silently emerged from the shadows, bringing the blade of her dagger across the exposed portion of his neck.

Despite how casual the motion was, the blade cut deep, severing the major blood vessels in the neck. The necromancer’s hand snapped up to the open wound sending a cascade of crimson down his chest as he stumbled away from the dark elf. Onesa didn’t advance on him, electing to remain in place as she watched the man bleed to death. Even the smallest amount of healing magic to stanch the bleeding would have been enough to save his life, but instead of finding the means to do so, Salak froze in panic. Though his hand was clamped tight around his neck, his elevated heart rate from fear and panic rendered the effort moot. He stared in wide-eyed horror at the woman calmly watching his life slip away.

“Goodbye, Salak,” Myanna said, relaxing back into her bed with a sigh. “I would say it was nice speaking with you, but it never is.”

The necromancer fell to the floor with a heavy thud, a dark pool of blood forming under him as he choked on his blood. After the gurgling from his attempts to speak finally ceased, Onesa looked over at Myanna with a thin brow raised. “How did you know it was a different candle?”

“The flame,” Myanna answered as she closed her eyes. She wasn’t looking forward to getting the necromancer’s blood cleaned up. It would undoubtedly stain, which meant she would have to throw a sectional rug over it to keep herself from being reminded of him every time she saw it. “Fiendseize Unguent has a more reddish color when burned and doesn’t interfere with darksight as much as regular candlelight might.”

Onesa looked over at the candle for a moment and then around the room, only just now realizing Myanna’s latter point. “I didn’t know that,” she admitted, wiping her blade clean with some clean rags nearby.

“I’m just relieved you knew enough to remain close by,” Myanna confessed with a slight smirk.

Onesa returned the dagger to its proper place, concealed on her person. “You looked like you needed more rest when I came up, so I decided to wait.”

“I thought you might.” Myanna had suspected she would need someone to watch over her while she recovered and decided that Onesa would be a better candidate than Fenan. The tiefling would have stayed had she only asked her, but Fenan had managed to remain clean of whatever it was Myanna had stepped in. Onesa’s stealth also presented the cuirizu with a unique approach should anyone come to kill her. She hadn’t known for sure that someone would try but suspected that if they did, it would have been either Belias or Salak. Myanna’s only regret was that the necromancer wouldn’t face Olcaru’s judgment directly. His fate was almost a mercy compared to what she would have done to him.

“Was there actually something you wished to speak with me about?” Onesa asked flatly, staring at the corpse growing cold in the corner as they spoke.

Myanna’s eyes opened again as she turned her head an inch or so to look at the dark elf. “Is Tobias truly gone?”

“Drusilla seems to believe as much,” Onesa answered, obviously considering her opinion on the matter worth more than her own. She had been connected to the creature, after all. “Which is good enough for me right now. The Obsidian Court is quite upset about all of it.”

“Fenan told me.” Myanna could not help but smirk slightly at the idea of the vampires worked up over something she’d done. It was oddly satisfying. “What of everything else?”

The dark elf looked sideways at Myanna with her characteristically impassive demeanor. “You’re referring to our original deal?”

“I am,” Myanna replied expectantly. “Among other things.”

Onesa closed her eyes as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “It’s been honored. Teatun is overseeing everything now. She’s some of the coin to secure new supplies. Drusilla has also provided additional funding and supplies. Most of your equipment is just waiting to be set up.”

“Tell Teatun that I will handle it once I am able,” Myanna instructed with a sigh of relief. She had technically met her deadline and likely earned a slight reprieve with all that she and Onesa had uncovered while they were away. She wouldn’t know for sure until she faced Olcaru in person, but her trepidation toward the situation had ebbed.

“She thought that might be the case, but I will inform her,” the dark elf replied respectfully. “I suppose I should have someone clean this mess up for you before he begins to stink.”

“I would greatly appreciate it,” Myanna replied. “And Onesa?”

The dark elf turned to look at her with a raised brow. “Yes?”

“You did very well,” the cuirizu complimented. “You have my thanks.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of the dark elf’s lips. “Just don’t forget that I’m still due for a little discipline once you’re up and about, hm?”

“I won’t,” Myanna assured her as she returned to her relaxed state with a smirk. She closed her eyes as the dark elf departed without a sound. Shortly after, a couple of guards accompanied a servant to retrieve the body and mop the blood up as best as they could. Myanna paid them no mind, giving them the impression that she was sound asleep.

“Glad to see this asshole finally get what was coming to him,” one of the guards grunted as they dropped Salak’s corpse onto a stretcher.

The other guard unfurled a tarp and threw it over the necromancer, making minor adjustments here and there. “You have a problem with or something?”

“Almost everyone did,” the servant interjected as he wrung the mop into a bucket. “Always saw fit to harass people over the simplest requests, the cunt.”

“Hm,” the second guard responded non-committally, obviously never having had the pleasure of making the necromancer’s acquaintance. “Whatever you say.”

A few minutes later, they were gone, leaving Myanna in complete silence for the rest of the night. Awakened once more by the morning sun, Myanna felt a surge of vitality run through her. She could finally move enough to fetch herself some water from the other side of the room. After drinking down an entire pitcher of water, she was still thirsty. There was wine available, but it would be counter-productive for her to have at the time. She considered holding her nose and drinking whatever was left in the wash basin used to treat her wounds but ultimately decided against it.

The cuirizu limped to the door, where she struggled with the latch before opening it. Covered only by the bandages over her wounds, some of which could open again at any moment, Myanna began to climb the stairs gingerly. When she finally reached the roof, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the open sun, no longer content with the limited supply she received each morning. The rush of sunlight was a warm, soothing balm on every inch of her body as she staggered into the light.

Meticulously pulling some raps, splints, and bandages from her body to expose more of her bare flesh to the sun, Myanna sat heavily on the sun-warmed stone. Only then did she feel her muscles begin to unclench and her equilibrium normalize. A few hours of basking in the sun would go a long way in her recovery, enough to fetch more water for herself and do the rest of her recovery on her feet.

As some of the superficial wounds closed and mended, Myanna removed more of the bandages and splints. By noon she became aware of a few guards working the day shift in the other towers sneaking glances at her sunbathing nude on the rooftop. Her mood had improved significantly by that time, so much so that she considered inviting some of the spectators to join her for a bit of afternoon activity. Instead, she resolved to save it for those who had rallied to her aid and assisted in her recovery. Drusilla, Onesa, and Fenan had all earned special treatment from the cuirizu. Now it was just a matter of determining which was to go first.