The path beyond widened and smoothed, transitioning from rough tunnel floor to worn stone pavers, shaped by countless footsteps and wagon wheels over the years. The air grew warmer, richer with scents of moss, minerals, and a faint, almost sweet aroma. Ahead, a long line of wagons, the city gates, bathed in a pale blue glow that pulsed gently, promising something… different.

The line was long, full of wagons of all sizes, crowding at the city gates upfront. The gates were much larger, more imposing and better guarded than those of any other city they had visited so far. Dozens of wagons came and went, traders shouted, porters hauled crates, and guards mostly watched to ensure the flow continued smoothly. No one stopped them. No one asked questions. A few guards glanced at their group — a strange mix of bloodied travelers and children — but said nothing. The movement of the city seemed more important than its guests.

A sense of relief filled the travelers as they went through — the group didn`t have to struggle with Emeryn’s inability to lie this time.

It wasn’t long before the cavern opened up before them. And then they saw it:
Nor Badur.

A vast subterranean city carved into the belly of the earth, bathed in ethereal luminescence. It wasn’t sunlight, yet it wasn’t darkness either. Clusters of glowing fruits and vines cascaded from terraces and rooftops, painting every wall and alley in tones of cobalt and sapphire. Bioluminescent plants lined the stone roads, casting shifting shadows on the polished paths. It was… beautiful, and it was overwhelming.

They followed the main road toward a massive circular plaza, where storefronts burst with color and light. Here, Nor Badur revealed its chaotic heart: smiths, brewers, mushroom vendors, spice merchants, lantern makers, and beast handlers all crammed side by side. 

Emeryn murmured “This is too crowded”, more to herself than anyone else. Then, after a pause, “Everything is so full of light… and alive.” She said, visibly moved by the movement of the city, accompanied by the luminosity of the plants that thrived everywhere

Meanwhile, Garlak watched the merchants come and go, with childlike curiosity.

Soon, a more pressing concern surfaced.

“Where’s the orphanage?” Trista muttered.
They all turned to look at Garlak`s backpack.
“Willow was the only one who knew the way,” Emeryn sighed. “And he’s currently… a rock.”

It took over an hour of navigating crooked streets, retracing steps, and asking merchants (some more helpful than others), but eventually, they found someone that pointed them in the right direction.

In all that coming and going Trista couldn’t help but be half distracted, as she tried to trace her route on an improvised scroll, the glow of the luminous fruits stealing her attention. The streets and alleys, full of store signs, also dazzled her “I’ve never seen directions based on shop signs before. ‘Go left after the Threads of Destiny’ ‘straight past the Iron Fang… How can anyone map and find something in this place?”

They finally found it: a modest iron gate tucked between two pillars of stacked stones with vines growing up their walls, just passing Scales soup Inn.

Inside, they were greeted by Sira, a stern woman with tired eyes and ink-stained fingers. She welcomed the children, though confusion shadowed her face when she checked her ledgers.
“You’re early,” she said, flipping through pages. “Almost a month early.”
None of them had a good answer for that.
Sira invited the children to come in with a smile anyway, and they were left at her care. 

As the kids were walking into the building, Trista approached Sira “Do you know where we can find work, or how we can make a little coin in this city…?” she asked, offering a smile.

“You could look for Darik, at The Somber Still. He might have something for you” Replied Sira.

Back in the streets, the group moved slower. There was weight in their steps now, even without the little ones.

At the plaza, they noticed a small gathering of people encircling a woman handing out glowing plants — each potted in soft stone, like a gift.

“Keep them near warmth,” she said gently. “If they dim, bring them back. I’ll give you another.”

She offered them one as well, placing it in their hands with a soft smile.

“May the light of the Emperor protect you,” she added, her voice warm and full of quiet care.

Her name was Jara, and she refused payment.

They sat in a quiet place of the plaza, away from the crowd. Trista and Emeryn talked about what to do next, while Garlak played with Willow — or more correctly, the orb they believed to be him— Thinking about how he can turn him into a weapon by wrapping a rope around the orb. But something felt weird, and Garlak put Willow down on the floor.

It was at that moment, with the crowd murmuring softly and the blue glow dancing on stone walls, that the orb shuddered. Small cracks spread across its surface, and with a low hum, in a blink, Willow reappeared, gasping like someone pulled from water.

He looked around, confused.
“I was gone long, wasn’t I?”
“You missed the entire city entrance,” Garlak grunted.
Willow touched his face, still pale. “It’s always like this. I disappear and… nothing. No sound. No time. Just cold.”

He looked up at them all, blinking fast. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

“I considered selling you,” Garlak quipped. “Or turning you into a weapon,” he added visibly excited about the idea. “A deadly one. With rope.” 

Willow exhaled a laugh. “Sounds about right.”
He glanced down, then up at them all. “Anyway,” he paused, looking at each of them. “Thanks.”

They caught Willow up on everything he`s missed.

With Willow back among them, and knowing all that happened, the group stood for a moment in silence. Now there was nothing left to do but head for the place Trista had circled on her map: The Somber Still 

Trista folded her scroll carefully, now a little more confident in the city’s tangled paths.

“Let’s find this Darik,” Emeryn said. “The sooner we get work, the sooner we`ll blend in.”

Following the directions Sira had given them, they turned down a narrow stone corridor lined with hanging lantern-fruits — small pale blue globes that hummed faintly. The street curved downward, and the noise of the plaza faded behind them.

The Somber Still didn’t look like much from the outside — just a low black doorway carved directly into a building’s foundation. A faded sign hung askew above it, painted in flaking silver ink:
The Somber Still

“Charming,” Garlak muttered.

Emeryn knocked once. Then again. Nothing.
She was about to try a third time when Garlak stepped forward and gave the door a firm push — not quite a shove, but enough to rattle the hinges.

“It opened” He said proudly.

Inside, the light was low and the air smelled of boiled herbs, alcohol, and something slightly metallic. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with glass vials, pouches of dried roots, and bundles of wrapped mosses. A small fire burned under a copper still, and behind it corridor covered by a visibly worn-out velvetlike curtain. All of a sudden, a figure emerged swiftly from the shadows.

A stocky dwarf with a mechanical leg, rough skin, dark grey beard and small but sharp deep-set eyes raised one eyebrow at them.

“You almost break the door,” he said flatly.

Trista opened her mouth to apologize, but Darik waved a hand.

“No matter. Not the first. Come in.” he replied rolling his eyes.

They were already inside, but stepped in a bit further, cautious but curious. Emeryn scanned the shelves while Willow stood near the door, arms crossed. Garlak went straight to the counter, eyes on the bubbling still.

“We’re looking for work,” Emeryn said. “Sira mentioned you might have something?”

Darik studied them for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Maybe I do. But not the usual kind. You want to earn coin — real coin — I’ve got a small job,” he made a pause. “But first… first you need to prove useful. Let`s start with something simple, but dirty.”

“We’ve done dirty,” Garlak grunted.

The dwarf smiled faintly. “Good. I need shadowmoss. Grows along the riverside, near the stone bridge south of here. Nasty place, but the moss likes it like that. Bring me some and I’ll pay. Then, we can talk of… of bigger things. Your choice.”

Willow looked up. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just slippery rocks and the possibility of being bitten by something unpleasant.”

They exchanged glances. No alarms. No blood cults. No collapsing caverns.

Just a river.

“Deal,” said Garlak, already turning toward the door.

The River and the Moss

The path to the river wasn`t long, but for safety reasons they first decided to look for a place to leave Rocky and the cart — in case of something unexpected. Following Darik’s rough directions, the group made a quick stop at Scale Soup Inn. They arranged with Rik’la, a lizardfolk who was the inn keeper, to take care of Rocky and soon left to gather the strange moss.

The four walked along the narrow corridor, to the plaza, and then they turned on the battered sign that said: To The Cementery. Lots of big wagons, just like the ones they have seen at the city gates, come and go as they walk to the river. The air and floor became more humid, and the smell of wet minerals thickened as they advanced — but there was something else in the air, something unpleasant that they couldn’t decipher. The glow of the city dimmed behind them, replaced by the pale shimmer that spread across the stone — Emperor’s Blossoms in full bloom, their soft light weaving through the beds of moss.

They reached the river just as the train of wagons rumbled across a narrow stone bridge nearby. Most of the carts were closed, but the smell wafting from them was… unpleasant and wrong. The wagons went ahead onto the road and disappeared in the distant dark.

They found a man sitting by the river, fishing with a long rod. He gave them a nod, and they politely replied. He didn’t look surprised to see strangers.

“Don’t go too deep,” he warned. “Water’s got teeth. These carts?” — he gestured toward the wagons — “dead folk. They go to the cemetery… where else?”

He chuckled like that was the most natural thing in the world.

“Right,” said Trista. “Thanks for the tip.”

The moss, despite its black appearance, was easy to spot — it clung to rocks near the water’s slippery edge. They had no proper containers, so Emery suggested using the bent frying pan they had. Improvisation, as always.

Reaching the moss was trickier than expected. The stones were slick, the current strong, but Garlak and his overwhelming self-confidence went ahead. And that’s when he slipped.

One moment he was crouched over a mossy boulder, the next he was sliding with a yelp into the shallows. A sudden splash, and then —

“OW!” he shouted.

A shadow darted through the water, and Garlak kicked wildly as he scrambled back onto the rocks, blood running down his calf.

“That thing bit me!” said Garlak, more concerned for his pride than his wounds. 

Willow nocked an arrow instantly, scanning the water.

Trista dropped to her knees beside Garlak, already digging into her satchel. “Hold still.”

“Did you see its teeth?” he growled. “They were like—”

“Hold. Still.” she said, more firmly this time.

A faint purple glow emanated from Trista’s hands as she focused. The wounds closed gradually. “This will leave a mark”

A few minutes later, Trista had finished tending Garlak`s wounds although he was moving all the time — looking at the water, in case he could see it again.

Willow and Garlak peered over the water’s edge afterward, trying to spot the creature. They even tried to lure it out, without the girl’s approval — but whatever it was had vanished.

“Next time,” Garlak muttered and stared at the water, “we bring a net. Or dynamite.”

They gathered a pan full of shadowmoss; this time they were more careful — mostly because Trista was angry and warned everyone that the next time there would be no healing for the fools. 

Back at The Somber Still, Darik inspected the moss with a practiced eye.

“Good enough,” he grunted. “Didn’t lose a finger, I see.”

Trista set the pan down on the counter, still dripping.

“You want coin or potion?” Darik asked, already turning to rummage through a shelf.

“Coin,” said Emeryn. “We’ll need it.”

Darik tossed them a small pouch. “Then maybe you’re ready for something harder.”

His eyes shone slightly as he strained his hands.

“There’s a mausoleum. Old place, locked to the public. I need an object from inside — a stone orb. The rest is yours to keep.” 

He handed them four flasks, each filled with a viscous, dark liquid.

“What is it?” asked Willow, swirling the bottle.

“The entrance, it is blocked tight. You’ll need these” Darik stared at Emeryn and Trista, and continued talking “This makes your body… soft enough to squeeze through.”

Garlack was about to uncork one of the bottles, but Darik veiledly took it out of his hands, covered it and handed it to Trista “Don’t use it unless you’re ready to go in.” he said, “you pour a spoon of dirt from the entrance into the bottle, shake it, and then… you spread it on yourself. One bottle has enough for two uses”.

“What else should we know?” Emeryn asked, a little grossed out from the thought of spreading that gooey thing on her.

Darik hesitated. “There’s someone — an ancient turtle — called Humo near the path. Don’t ask. Just be quiet.”

Everyone looked puzzled by the warning, but that was all he offered.

“Do we have a deal?” 

The four looked at each other, nodded and replied in unison “Deal”.

Darik gave them the final directions to the crypt of the Vandrik family. There, at the sealed old cemetery, they would find what he was looking for. 

Before leaving, Garlak looked at Darik in the eyes and, with a very serious expression asked “Do you know what’s in the river? It`s huge, and it has a strong bite”

“Oh, that… that thing is a Marble eel, very common on those waters. A big — 3metres long or more, maybe — electrical eel.” He giggled and patting his mechanic leg continued talking “I told you not to get to close to the water, didn’t I? That thing took my leg” 

Trista looked at Garlak and no words were needed.

Garlak ended immediately the conversation with Darik, in an embarrassed tone “Uhm… thanks, we just saw one and were curious, nothing more” 

Before heading nowhere, the group decided to make a quick stop back in the central plaza. Nor Badur’s market was still bustling, but they’d gradually grown used to the glow, the noise and the constant negotiation.

They gathered what they could afford — flammable oil, cloth, rations. Garlak bartered for a new helmet, the old one cracked beyond repair. Willow eyed a weapons stall and saw a dagger. He weighed it in his hand and gave a small nod — he needed it, but didn’t have the coin, and was unclear if the group would buy it for him. He decided to convince Trista to make a deal there, her shield for the dagger. Seeing her old shield falling apart but knowing it was made from good materials, she agreed. She ran her fingers along the cracks of the old shield one last time, before handing it over. Then, she traded it in for the dagger that Willow wanted.  As they were bargaining with the smith, she managed to get herself a new sturdier shield as well — less ornate, more reliable.

“Looks heavy,” said Emeryn.
“It is,” Trista replied, adjusting the straps. “But it`s not a big deal”

They left the plaza behind with their packs heavier, and their nerves taut. As they walked to the inn, for a good sleep before heading to find Darik`s orb, a strange feeling settled over them — the easy part was already over. Still, they walked on.