Dear Diary,
The smoke was still curling from the charred remains of the mind-control tree when we began tearing Lady Magnolia’s manor apart, looking for answers. We found plenty, but none of them were what we expected.
In Magnolia's bedroom, tucked away like a keepsake, I found a stone. Not just any stone—a **Tarnstone**. Smooth, dark, and vibrating with a specific resonance. It’s exactly like the ones we were given during our trials as teenagers in Tarn. These stones are linked to Immerglade. Why would a Keralon agent, or a fey fugitive, possess a relic of our coming-of-age? The web connecting everything is tighter than we thought.
Then, the world cracked open. Literally.
A loud, vertical fissure split the trunk of the burnt tree in the garden. Two figures stepped out. One was a woman of severe elegance—Alistan and Liliana’s mother. The other was a towering giant clad in heavy plate armor.
It was their father. He had traded his humanity for raw power, transforming into a creature of war.
They didn't attack. They complained. They were annoyed that we had destroyed the tree, mostly because they had "paid a lot of money for it."
We stood there, weapons lowered but ready, as the De la Roost parents laid out the cold, hard truth. There was no mind control. The Council wasn't charmed; they were bought. The King promised them independence. Hillfield is to become its own Kingdom, with the De la Roosts as the Royal Family. They betrayed their fealty to their people not for justice, but for a crown.
They asked us what we hoped to achieve. They told us we were children playing at war, that we would only cause more bloodshed. They offered Alistan and Liliana forgiveness, but with a sharp condition: if we continue to move against Keralon, they will disown them. They will break with their children.
We left it unresolved. A fragile, bitter truce. We promised not to attack each other for a few weeks. As we walked away, I looked at Alistan. He didn't say a word, but the set of his jaw told me everything. He just lost his parents, not to death, but to ambition.
We returned to the temple. Father Ethan wished us luck, but his warning hung in the air: if we attack Hillfield, he will stand against us.
Down in the chamber of the guardians, we reunited with the Kirin, Aurora. She agreed to cleanse the curse from Ileas’s lyre, but warned it would take a day.
We had time to kill. Aurora sat in the lotus position—a bizarre sight for a celestial horse—and hummed a resonant, purifying tone over the instrument. I used the quiet to transcribe spells from the **Elemental Heart of Water** into my book, expanding my arsenal. Hayley, restless, scouted the Ethereal Plane. She found the source of the evil: a rift to the plane of **Ghenna**, embedded deep in the rock.
We couldn't leave it there.
We journeyed back into the mines. I shifted into the form of a large owl, gliding silently down the chasm to scout. We found a ledge of worked stone and began to dig. I called upon the **Investiture of Stone**, my skin turning to granite as I moved the earth with my will, guiding us to the rift.
The hunger pains returned, that gnawing, magical starvation. Gael kept us moving with a steady supply of *Goodberries*.
At the portal, my *Detect Magic* flared. A strong **Conjuration** aura. The rift wasn't natural; it was maintained by a **Wish** spell. The pinnacle of arcane magic.
I took a breath. I reached into the currents of fate, using my **Portent** to twist the odds, and channeled a dispel. I felt the weave snap. The *Wish* unraveled. The rift collapsed. The cavern itself seemed to sigh with relief, the oppressive weight of Ghenna lifting instantly.
But we weren't done. Lower still, we found a door of red marble fused into the stone. A sarcophagus, stripped of all markings. An **Abjuration** aura—*Dimensional Shackles*.
Hayley divined the occupant: **Esigius**. A fiend trapped by Morrim.
Liliana stepped too close, and a voice echoed in our heads. Esigius. He claimed he had a "falling out" with Morrim—apparently, Morrim wanted an army but didn't want to pay the price. Typical lich problems.
The fiend begged for release. We made a counter-offer. A contract. We would free him, but he must perform one good deed every day for a thousand years.
He agreed.
We broke the seal. A bald, green-skinned humanoid with sores from centuries of confinement stepped out. He asked if we needed receipts for his good deeds. He then shifted into a nondescript human male and, for his first act of benevolence, teleported us straight back to the surface.
We reported our success to Aurora. The evil is gone. The lyre is clean. We were done.
We stepped onto the teleportation circle, a tired party of adventurers, and now a contract-bound fiend.
Next stop: Tarn. Home.
— Luke