"Lay down your weapons!" barked Hazel.

  The ranger's dark eyes looked Darlac up and down with a spark of surprised recognition, but otherwise showing no trace of whatever the two of them used to share. They'd probably have no qualms putting an arrow through Darlac's throat, if they deemed necessary.

  Darlac spread out her hands to indicate her peaceful intentions, but didn't lay down anything. The last thing she wanted was goblin shit anywhere near her sword.

  "Hazel? Are you real?"

  "By the storms," muttered the elf incredulously. "Who are you, masquerading in Felicia Darlac's skin?"

  "I can't see anything through this fuzzy air," complained Linzi, peeking out from behind Hazel's butt. "It must be a revenant. Valerie, can you detect –"

  "For the last time, Linzi, I do not have paladin senses, and I do not miss them, either!" cried out Valerie, lowering her door-sized shield and glaring at the bard from above its top. Then she hastily hid her face behind the visor of her helmet.

  "So... are you real then?" demanded Darlac. "Not fey? Not even a dream?"

  "Drop the illusion," shouted Valerie, "or get a taste of my shield! That will teach you how real we are!"

  "You see her, too, Valerie, right?" asked Hazel. "Tattered Varnling shirt, no armour, a bit worse for wear than last time."

  "Mhm. Eerily similar to the real one, but a tad too well-groomed for a dungeon survivor."

  Darlac blushed, suddenly self-conscious about being checked out. Then her embarrassment turned into anger. Thanks to her own little watercourse and the basic hygiene kit she'd found in Kyle's backpack, she'd followed a meticulous self-care routine as part of her sanity preservation efforts. Would she be labelled an intruder, rejected, attacked, killed, just because she had the luxury of trimming her fingernails?

  "Says the legendary beauty idol hiding in a closed helmet," she retorted. "Humour me, Valerie, because I'm still none the wiser. Was it the kobolds or the mites that put you in a cage?"

  "That's enough yapping! Defend yourself!"

  "Who in the nine hells are you guys talking to?" wondered Linzi, squinting hard at the place where Darlac stood.

  "Stop!" said a weak but firm voice from behind Valerie's back. "Stand down, all of you. I will take it from here."

  The slender figure of Baroness Guelder appeared beside Hazel, laid her hand upon their arm and made them lower their bow. After a moment of clinging to Hazel to avoid collapsing, she took a few wobbly steps towards Darlac with her leopard in tow. She crouched down and exchanged a few growls and meows with the beast, probably asking for its input on Darlac's identity. As she stood up, she greeted the newcomer with a heartfelt smile. She looked thinner than last time, her cheeks red with fever, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, but she seemed genuinely happy to see an ally.

  "General Darlac! This is incredible!"

  Darlac bowed her head respectfully, trying to figure out whether this warm welcome was true or fake. It was a bit harder now that she didn't have her paladin senses, either. The fact that she couldn't detect any dishonesty on Guelder's part didn't put her suspicions at ease. If the baron had given up on her and took her for dead, Darlac's fears about a dynastic marriage might well be coming true in the near future. The thought made her jaw tighten up.

  "Greetings, Your Grace," she said in a cool, reserved voice. "An unexpected encounter, to be sure."

  "Indeed! I am so glad to see you alive, against all odds and rumours. I would love to see our esteemed neighbour's face when he finds out."

  Did that mean Maegar was home, safe and sound, searching or mourning for her? Probably. Darlac stopped herself from asking questions. She was intent on analysing every word and sound the baroness uttered and mapping up any secret motives behind them, but she was getting overwhelmed by emotions instead. Relief, love, nostalgy, suspicion, jealousy, apprehension, shame. Anyway, she removed Kyle's amulet from around her neck and slipped it into her pocket, before Linzi would rub her eyes out of their sockets in an effort to see her properly.

  "What are you doing here?" asked Valerie. "Has the Bloom struck Varnhold as well?"

  "The Bloom? I don't think so. I've been in the dark since before the monster hunt, but last time I checked, we had no water quality problems. However, some of your monsters did cross the border. We dealt with them, but not without blood and casualties."

  Darlac absently rubbed her left arm, thinking back to that horrible manticore fight.

  "So you have been here in the First World for six weeks?" Valerie whistled in admiration.

  Darlac swallowed. Six... weeks. She couldn't tell if that sounded too much or too little, but it was definitely surprising. Even Guelder shuddered at the thought – or maybe it was just the fever.

  "I commend your resilience, Darlac," said the baroness. "We have been here for less than a day, and our mental state is already deplorable."

  "I beg to disagree, Your Grace." Valerie was quick to save face. "We're doing fine, given the circumstances."

  Guelder flashed a knowing smile.

  "Valerie, fever does not make one deaf. Anyway, I do not blame you. General, please consider joining us. A warrior like yourself by our side would greatly increase our chances for success."

  Darlac couldn't help but lower her eyes. Being called by her official title only made her more acutely aware of her failures.

  "Please stick with Darlac, Your Grace," she said. "Here and now, my rank is meaningless. What is it you require my help with, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "Valerie will bring you up to speed. I... I think I need to lie down."

  Darlac found herself helping the baroness get to her bedroll, with Hazel supporting her from the other side. She held awkwardly onto the other woman's frail body, so hot with fever that it could be felt through the leathers. Instead of a dangerously beautiful rival, a seductress demonised in the lonely hours of the night, now she could only see her as a vulnerable person in need of her protection. Darlac had failed the Varnlings, the centaurs, even Kyle Virroll, but now she was getting another chance. She could lend her strength to this woman who was likely on a mission comparable to the Lostlarn Keep operation in significance and difficulty, and was sacrificing her health and wellbeing to keep her land safe. And while doing so, maybe Darlac could redeem herself.

  If only she had access to the healing powers of her goddess right now...

  Darlac sought out Hazel's eyes. It wasn't easy to catch a moment they were not completely focused on Guelder, whose consciousness was apparently slipping away.

  "Any idea what's going on with her?" she asked softly.

  "I am fine, friend," muttered Guelder’s weak voice. "It is just... Nature..."

  "Nature?" Tristian joined the conversation, once his curiosity overcame his shyness.

  "Transition," said the baroness, challenged in keeping her eyes open. "Into immunity to poison. Happens to all druids at some point. Very bad timing. I tried to trigger it by drinking that goblin brew, all in vain... but the spiders did the trick."

  Exhausted by speaking so much, she gave up her struggle to stay awake.

  Linzi let out a sigh, and Valerie looked similarly relieved.

  "That is a very useful feature for rulers." Hazel smiled and wrapped up the baroness in a blanket. "You will be that much harder to assassinate."

  Darlac still couldn't puzzle out the entire situation, but she felt a little safer. The baroness would probably not die on her. It was only a matter of waiting for the process to run its course and mitigating the symptoms. Which was something she could actually help with. She touched Guelder's hand to claim her attention before she would be irrevocably swallowed by slumber.

  "Your Grace, if you're willing to give it a try, I have some healing water I collected from a brook. It tastes a little bitter, but –"

  "NOOO!" screamed the entire Nightvale squad in unison.

  "But... why not?"

  "Linzi, would you mind letting Darlac read the relevant chapters of your journal?" said Valerie. "If she is to join us, she'd better know what we are up against."

  Linzi didn't mind the least bit, quite on the contrary. She even provided some background music to help with immersion. A song about troubles ahead and rivers running red. Darlac had trouble pushing it out of her mind while the new details clicked into place in her brain, dissolving some of her unfounded worries, but also making her realise how devastatingly foolish her escape plan by a seed husk had been. Just as the old gnome had warned her. He seemed to know an awful lot about the flower and about navigating the blue mist. Perhaps they should pay him a visit.

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  Hazel never left Guelder's side, who now seemed to be tormented by fever dreams. Time and again, she mumbled something in a language Darlac didn't understand. Hazel settled down beside her and held her hand. Giving the book back to Linzi, Darlac caught the ranger's gaze, and her heart wrenched. She soaked a handkerchief in water from her canteen and handed it over to Hazel, squeezing their shoulder. She fumbled for comforting words, but finally settled for an awkward, reassuring smile. They smiled back, spread out the cloth on Guelder's forehead, and took no heed of Darlac or the world anymore.

  The relationship between the baroness and her treasurer had ostensibly taken a new turn. If so, Darlac was happy for them, and relieved that she didn't have to deal with Hazel's antics anymore. The ranger's indifference made her life so much easier, since she knew she would stand no chance against their charms in her current touch-starved state. At least this was how she was supposed to feel. In truth, however, the complete lack of even a passionate glance was infuriating. A little voice at the back of her head was relentlessly nagging her to stick around Hazel and claim their attention at all costs, like a rejected child trying to get noticed by a busy parent, even if the best thing she could hope for was a slap on the back of her head. Darlac restrained herself. She wouldn't start behaving like a toddler amidst her allies, in the middle of a dangerous mission, at the bedrollside of an ailing comrade, just because her ego suffered a devastating blow.

  Suddenly, Guelder's ears perked up. She opened her unfocused eyes, gently swiped away Hazel’s helping hand, and sat up, oblivious of the damp cloth slipping down into her lap.

  She said a single word in Elven.

  Darlac followed her gaze, trying to figure out what she wanted. For Hazel, however, it was all immediately clear. With slow and calculated moves honed by decades of stalking deer, they approached a shrub just outside their little camp, and carefully collected a small, colourful bird singing on one of the branches. It didn’t even try to take flight or escape.

  Hazel settled back down by Guelder's side with the bird perched on their finger. The baroness took it off their hand with a thankful smile. The bird moved over onto her finger without hesitation, its song unbroken. Guelder's eyes found their focus on her new little friend, and Hazel smiled, content with a job well done.

  Darlac stifled a gasp. Guelder's eyeballs turned inwards, her breathing became agitated, her back arched in a spasm as she fell back on her mat. Then it all became quiet. Too quiet.

  "Tristian!" cried out Hazel. "Come help! What is happening to her?"

  The cleric was there in a moment, feeling for Guelder's pulse with trembling hands. The others waited in breathless silence.

  "Weird," he finally said. "She is... here and not here."

  "What do you mean?" yelled Hazel. "Is she dead? Dying? Tell me!"

  "No. She is, how shall I put it... Remember when she ate that blue dragonfly and relived centuries of boggard history in fifteen minutes? This feels like the same."

  The mere idea made Darlac cringe. Who in their right mind would eat insects, like a frog? Not even Faeli would do that. (Or at least not in her human shape. As to her diet while in woodpecker form, Darlac preferred not to dwell on the matter.)

  "Is it the bird?" demanded Hazel.

  "Perhaps," said Tristian. "I'm not sure."

  Hazel didn't think twice. Their hands carefully inched towards the culprit, preparing to grab it and wring its neck.

  "Hazel, no!" screamed Linzi. "You're so mean!"

  "I do not care!" they hissed. "I could not remove the dragonfly from her mouth, but I can and will deal with this chirpy little piece of work!"

  "Maybe they are conversing?" suggested Tristian. "I mean... she speaks with Pangur all the time, right? Then maybe she can speak with this bird as well."

  "She never gets a seizure like this when speaking with animals!"

  "Pangur? Any thoughts?" said Darlac, suddenly realising that nobody paid attention to the creature that was closer to the baroness than even Hazel could ever hope to be. While everyone was fussing around its mistress, the leopard remained lazy and impassive, stretched out by Guelder's side to keep her warm. It gave no sign of distress whatsoever, but its eyes were upon Hazel's hands.

  "Darlac has a point, Hazel," said Tristian softly. "Pangur isn't stressed out. Perhaps we shouldn't be, either."

  The bird fell silent for a while, and Guelder's eyes popped open. She muttered something incoherent in Elven, eliciting a flood of worried questions from Hazel, but giving no answers to them.

  And then the monsters attacked.

  A group of three felines materialised inside the camp, with two pairs of eyes each, sleek, dark blue coats, and movements hard to follow for the untrained eye. Darlac knew them from before. She'd made a fleeting acquaintance of their sort in Lostlarn Keep. Shakoth used to call them dweomercats. They singled out the magic users (and also the weakest links in the chain) with uncanny precision: one of them went straight for the baroness, another for Linzi, the third one for Tristian.

  Darlac assessed the situation with a glance. The baroness was sufficiently protected by her two diehard bodyguards, Hazel and Pangur. Linzi positioned herself behind Valerie and her tower shield, which was the best strategy for her. Nok-Nok disappeared, as expected from a rogue, especially a tiny one. (Maegar did that all the time, and he was about the size of three goblins in a cloak.) That left her with the task of defending the cleric, who was still fumbling for his scimitar when the beast pounced at him.

  Darlac drew her just-in-case dagger and slammed into the cat mid-air, breaking its momentum. They ended up in a snarl on the ground, the cat flailing with its razor-sharp claws, Darlac unleashing a flurry of strikes with her dagger, not even bothering to aim, just trying to make the most of it before the cat would wink out of existence and rematerialise somewhere else. And just as she'd expected, the last of her stabs pierced the ground. However, the cat chose poorly, as it teleported right into Pangur's personal space, who didn't take it kindly.

  The fight ended just as quickly as it had started. Valerie was unharmed, only the bottom of her shield was drenched in cat blood. Hazel was bleeding from scratches on their arm, and otherwise struggling with muscle spasms and bouts of retching. Darlac went to check on them, ignoring the burning pain in her own side. Tristian was already there, too.

  "The cat got their Delay Poison," he explained.

  That made sense. Without the poison suppression spell, the leftover toxins in Hazel's blood were running wild. Which meant one less capable squad member when the next attack came – and Darlac was convinced that it would come soon.

  "This campsite is not safe," she suggested. "We must move on."

  "Definitely," sneered Hazel, pressing a handkerchief to their mouth, while Tristian was bandaging their other arm. "Straight into the blue mist, to lose our bearings again. By the way, General, you're bleeding. Heal yourself up before you attract more predators."

  Darlac blushed to dark red and turned away. But there was no escaping the moment of truth. She'd already attracted Valerie's attention.

  "Darlac, you aren't using your abilities," said the fighter. "I didn't see any flashy holy light nonsense in combat. Now you're just standing here, soaking your clothes in blood. Is something wrong?"

  Darlac bit her lips, struggling against the urge to lower her head in shame. She would die before admitting how she'd been punished for the mere decision to obey an order and give up on her allies. However, she couldn't and shouldn't hold out on her new squadmates. They had to know what they were working with.

  "I lost contact with my goddess, back when we started the dungeon. Now I live by the sword alone."

  Hazel suddenly forgot about their agony and broke into a chortle.

  "Shut up, Hazel! This is no laughing matter!" exclaimed Tristian, also blushing.

  "Of course not," wheezed the ranger, wiping the tears of laughter from their eyes. "I am terribly sorry!"

  They made no effort whatsoever to stop laughing, though.

  Darlac was seething inside. This jerk was actually thinking she'd fallen from grace because of their incomplete tryst on the night of the summit. And there was no way for her to refute that belief without uncovering the real, much more embarrassing reason. She remained silent.

  "Nothing to be so haughty about anymore, eh, Darlac?" remarked Valerie. "Anyway, welcome to the big wide world of freedom and independence. With time, you'll discover the upsides. They come with a price, but it's all worth it, you'll see."

  Darlac couldn't make heads or tails of this consolation wrapped in mockery, or the other way round, but it didn't take much effort to notice the weak spot she could strike at.

  "Remove your helmet, Valerie," she said. "I bared my soul. You bare your face. Either this, or tell me what price you paid."

  A storm was brewing in Valerie's blue eyes, but she couldn't back out of this without losing face. She took off her helmet and dropped it to the ground.

  "Here! Are you happy?"

  Darlac racked her eyes to pinpoint what was wrong, and finally had to settle for nothing. Valerie's face was the same as she knew it from before, but in a more mature, less doll-like version.

  "Yes," said Darlac. "You look finally human. I don't see why you're hiding that."

  "Ladies?" butted in Linzi, appearing from nowhere. "If you're done with your fallen paladin conference, could we figure out our next step? Nok-Nok is so bored he's already eaten a dweomercat paw, fur and all."

  "Of course," said Darlac. "I can guide you to my headquarters. I've been using it for weeks without any incident, and it has plenty of space for all of you. The only downside is that it is some distance away."

  "Maybe we could fashion a stretcher for Her Grace," suggested Tristian.

  "Or use the water I brought," said Darlac. "I've been using it as a healing potion since... Holy fringe, you don't think I want her dead, do you?"

  "I am not sure," said Hazel. "Hey!"

  Valerie was standing above Hazel, holding their arms twisted behind their back. The ranger fought in vain to wiggle out of her iron grip.

  "Do it, Darlac," she said. "Offer her a drink of your magical water. But mark my words: if she gives birth to a monster, I will personally feed you to it. Deal?"

  "Deal," said Darlac.

  She knelt beside the baroness, and put an arm underneath her head to gently raise it.

  "Your Grace," she whispered. "Drink some water. Guaranteed Bloom-free. It will help you get better. Then I will lead you to safety and we can plan out our next steps together."

  The baroness grabbed the canteen Darlac held to her lips and drank greedily, choking on the last gulp. That made her snap out of her strange trance.

  "Thank you, friend," she said. "Sorry if I scared anyone. I had some... enlightening moments. Now I know exactly whom and what we are facing."

  "Can you walk, Guel?" asked Hazel, freed from Valerie's hands. "General Darlac invited us to her hideout. She insists we will be safe there."

  "Then let us pack up and go. I think I can manage a Wild Shape and keep up on all fours."