Prologue

The robed cultist placed the young woman’s arm over the large silver bowl containing one of the Ancient One’s shriveled hearts and sliced open her flesh with the tainted iron dagger prepared for this ritual. The heart and the dagger had been difficult to acquire, requiring a harrowing trip deep into the fens of Mirewood that had cost two of their members. The woman, not so much. She was a commoner farmgirl that wouldn’t be missed as far as he knew.

Blood flowed readily from the gash, pumping in time with the woman’s still beating heart as his fellow cultists chanted verses of supplication to Xogg`Shriloth, beseeching him to return and grant power to his devoted followers. Under the silvery light of Selune in her fullness and the hidden radiance of Malor in his dark ascendance, the long dead heart engorged and bloated until shadowy tentacles began pouring out to consume the drugged woman.

Not wanting to experience the cause of the obscene slurping noises first hand, the cultist didn’t hesitate to retreat outside the protective curtain of light erected around the ritual circle. That he had been chosen to bleed the sacrifice due to his lack of seniority still rankled.

With the success of the revival ritual, the chant changed to the ritual of translocation. Now, the only hope was for the barrier to hold long enough to finish. If they were particularly lucky, Xogg`Shriloth would even reward them with a blessing for their service.

A vaguely humanoid shape began to form from the mass of tentacles, and as the cultist watched, a pair of eyes appeared gazing out from the writhing black—the woman’s eyes.

The weight of untold ages descended as those eyes regarded him and his fellow black cloaked cultists.

Join.

Just that simple thought flooded him with an ancient desire to merge with the horror. To transcend mortality and face eternity as one.

One of the other cultists rushed forward throwing himself into the tentacle embrace to be joyfully consumed.

The sight was enough for the dagger-wielding cultist to fervently add his voice and energies to the ritual of translocation. He wasn’t a crazy seeking some divine salvation. Like most of the others, he chose this path as a means to gain power. Yet even he felt the pull of the revived Xogg`Shriloth.

He focused his everything on the translocation ritual as the now two pair of eyes looked his way and the Ancient One began to move toward the barrier. Just as the tentacles shot out toward him, the pressure of its existence was suddenly elsewhere, returned to the Mirewood to revive the rest of its fallen body.

The cultist sank to his knees. He was too stunned at having survived to pay much attention to the others enthusiastically scooping into vials the black mucus-like secretions that Xogg`Shriloth had gifted them.

Elder Kaylie was meditating in her garden of flowers under the moonlight when she felt the magic connect to the long-distance communication device she wore on her necklace as a pendant.

Kaylie, it’s Arienos. I need your help. The Society needs your help. Can we talk?

A sigh escaped from Kaylie as she projected her soul-body into the communication device’s gemstone.

Within the gem, a half-elf mage sat opposite her.

“Thanks for coming, Kaylie. I’m currently at Shir`lyn investigating concerns the Society has about changes in the ley-line flows near the Mirewood’s deep fens. As Mirewood is close to Severing Downs, I’ve been told to involve you in this case-”

“Get to the point, Arienos.” Kaylie’s tail was already beginning to twitch with annoyance.

The mage made a placating gesture with his hands. “A local human lord has discovered evidence of a ritual performed by cultists in the last few days—most likely on the night of the double moons.”

“And?” Kaylie growled.

Cultists and a once-every-few-hundred-years celestial event. This was bound to be trouble for everyone involved.

“The Society has reason to believe that the cultists are trying to revive the ancient evil that taints the Mirewood even in death. Your assistance has been urgently requested in investigating this matter.”

Nature-corrupting eldritch tentacle horrors. Definitely not her thing.

“I’m too old to go traveling, much less mucking about some swamp.”

“…”

“…”

“…says the person who doesn’t look a day over nineteen,” Arienos reluctantly pointed out.

Kaylie huffed. “Fine. Give me a week to take care of some things on my end. I’ll see what I can do to offer you some assistance.”

“I appreciate it, Kaylie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As she returned her awareness to her physical body, Kaylie considered that she might have just the solution to avoid having to get involved with this herself.