"Hello, Tyrion. Or perhaps I should call you Finn."

The halfling awakens with a start, crying out into a black void. He looks about, wiping his eyes, but the darkness does not fade.

"It's quite alright, little man. I'm not going to kill you." A voice cold as the grave rings out again, reverberating in his ears. It echoes discordantly, like the cries of a thousand voices at once. He turns, jumping back at the sight before him.

A gigantic porcelain mask, silver filigrees around the dark sockets where eyes should be, a single black diamond centered at the top. It looms over him, the shadows parting to reveal a starry sky. They appear to be atop a castle keep, with a vast land of shadows beyond. "There's no need to be afraid, Tyrion."

The halfling falls backward onto his rump, his hood blown back as he stares at the mask that seems to shrink, the shadows coalescing into a figure in a black robe. A table and two chairs appear from puffs of smoke, a single candle lighting upon the table with a bottle of red liquid pouring itself out into two glasses "Come. Sit. I don't bite." The figure relaxes in a chair, gesturing with one long, pale hand ending in knife-like fingernails.

The halfling slowly approaches, fingers grasping the hilt of his bone-handled dagger. "There's no need for that. It wouldn't help you anyway." The dagger zips out of his grasp, floating toward the figure. They pluck the weapon gingerly from the air, and there's a soft chuckle from behind the mask. "Very well made. Your mother must love you a great deal."

"Who-Who are you?" The halfling's voice quakes, the mask facing him again.

"I am the Night Emperor, the King of the Dead. You mortals know me as the Dread Lord." From the dark sockets, a pair of amethyst eyes appear. They blink once, and though Tyrion can't see his face behind the mask, the shift of the eyes indicates a smile to the halfling.

"Am I dead, then?" Tyrion asks, trying to hide the pain in his heart through a steadying voice.

"Not yet. But you're slipping ever closer. Your spirit has begun to enter my realm." A mirror flashes into existence, temporarily blinding him. But as he looks upon its surface, the reflection of his face shifts, changing to the view of an alleyway in which a crumpled body lays bleeding and broken. "There you are. Little Tyrion, who wished so desperately to be his own man, and yet could not resist the urge for knowledge. What drew you to your father a second time, do you think? What took you from your bed and forced you to follow him across Mysthaven despite wanting nothing more to do with him?"

Tyrion collapses into the chair, which lowers itself to accomodate him before shifting upward for him to see over the table. "I...I don't know."

"Don't lie to me." His own voice echoes out from the mask before shifting to the thousand cries of the Dread Lord. "You wanted to live your life far from anyone that ever knew Phinneas Autumnsong II existed. But you sought your father out, tailed him, and threw yourself into questioning him and his bride. Why?"

Tyrion remains silent for a moment, peering into the amethyst hues before breathing deep. "At first, I wanted to know what he was doing on the expedition; what his purpose was, what scheme he was cooking up. But when I heard the voice of that woman, a woman who was not my mother, I had to know what was going on. I had to know what happened to her." He hangs his head as if found guilty of a crime.

The amethyst eyes study him silently before the figure leans in, neck extending unnaturally long to put the mask mere inches from his own face. "Poor Tyrion. Trapped between the man you were and the man you want to be...What do you think you wanted to be, exactly? A rogue, never to find peace in one place again? An adventurer, always on the hunt for a new place to explore and new jobs to take? Certainly not the man you claim to be; lover of many women, 'just here for the food', or any of the other stories you tell people to distance yourself from Finn."

"Well if you know so much, who am I?" He glares at the porcelain face even as the figure reaches out with long hands, fingers grasping the sides of his face.

"You are a good man. A selfish man who longs to sate his own desires, but a good man."

"How can one be good, but also selfish?" He asks, trying to ignore the chill running down his spine at the icy touch.

"I've seen you, Tyrion Summerwind. Though you claim to be in your party for the food and warm beds, you go out of your way to help people you care about. Our young Ravenwood, for instance. You were willing to assist him even without the promise of any gain. As you did with the processing of bodies in the aftermath of Dane's attack on Kaina. Before you were told a reward would be available, you'd made up your mind to help. A bad man doesn't give without the promise of payment. And 'facing your inner demons'? Ha!" The voice laughs, a long, loud laugh that almost makes Tyrion shiver.

"You proposed the idea, but you had no intention of ever going home and facing your father again. You just got lucky and found a group you could run with until you got tired of them. But then everyone was like you; broken, trying to fix themselves and the world around them. You never even guessed that you might come to actually care about these people; the man who wanted to save his family, the woman who wanted to save herself, and the girl who wanted to save the world. But then reality fell in upon you, and now you are forced to confront the truth...That even if you are now cold and distant Tyrion, somewhere inside you burned the gentle heart of Finn Autumnsong."

The fingers gently release his face as his body jolts, sending Tyrion reeling from the sudden shock. "Gods! What was that?"

"It seems your time is not up yet, Tyrion Summerwind." The figure gestures to the mirror, where the crumpled body of a halfling in an alleyway now lays surrounded by a human, a dark elf, and a devilkin. The dark elf rubs her hands together, saying something he can't make out, and his body jolts in his seat again as she presses her hands to him. His ears pick up the gentle voice of Anna calling his name.

"I do hope the next time you arrive, you'll know who you really are." The amethyst eyes shift into a smile again, and Tyrion feels his consciousness slipping before his vision fades. The soft sound of rain fills his ears along with the sound of wailing.