As the dreamscape around William faded, Vrinn appeared in front of him, their eyes locked immediately and a sense of familiarity and camaraderie.
Vrinn spoke, his voice seemingly coming from both within his own mind and his ears.
"Promise me that you will take revenge on my behalf. It's the least you can do, after all, for taking over my body."
William flinched but after a moment of contemplating he nodded, "I will take your hatred and make it my own!"
Vrinn's eyes opened wide in surprise but after a moment he smiled and let out a soft chuckle.
William held out his hand, and Vrinn reciprocated with his own. Drow and Human met in the middle, and in that moment of comraderie Vrinn's body began to actively fade, his body turning into motes of purple light.
Vrinn's smile never left his lips, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace. The rage that had been simmering inside him finally found an outlet, and he was able to move forward, his soul finally soaring off to wherever he was destined.
As William witnessed Vrinn's soul vanish into the purple light, the motes seemed to rush towards him with an astonishing velocity. He was naturally thrown into a state of shock and recoiled, but after a moment, that initial shock subsided and he felt nothing more than a profound sense of purpose, solidifying into something very real and tangible.
DING - OATH OF VENGEANCE GAINED!
The dream realm William stood in continued to crack and fracture, flaking off into jagged fragments that faded into nothingness as if the void itself were devouring it.
In the outside world Williams body wrapped in bandages began to slowly rouse but as he did so a purple light surged from the bandage on his chest that immediately frightened Nettie who was watching over the wounded.
She grabbed a blade at her waist and cut the bandage over his chest.
She hungrily leered at his muscular chest before her eyes focused on the strange tattoo that was definitely not there before.
Williams eyes moved under his lids, he suddenly opened them to find Nettie on top of him with a knife, her hand pressed onto his chest and her face slightly flushed.
"Uhm Nettie, I'm not saying I'm not into pain, but you could have asked first!" William smiled in wicked glee, and Nettie suddenly realizing she had her legs wrapped around him leaped off of him, her face red as an apple and her hands waving around frantically.
"No... No... No... It's not what you think... I... I... I..." Panicked and flushed Nettie stammered.
Nettie did not turn back to look.
She reacted with the swiftness of a startled deer, abandoning her dignity as instinct took over, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor with each hasty step.
As she stepped across the threshold, she turned around abruptly, slammed the door shut with a loud decisive bang, and then proceeded to drag her fingers across the air with a quick, practiced motion.
Runes ignited across the stone with a dull violet glow.
Seal.
Bind.
Silence.
The magic seemed to click into place with a deep, resonant thrum, and it was only at that moment that she finally stopped.
Her back slammed against the cold surface of the door, as if her legs, finally realizing they had been given permission, finally gave way.
She slid her body down the rough stone floor until she was finally seated on it, her knees pulled up close to her chest, and her head resting against the mossy stone surface that was now decorated with intricate runes.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven, almost jerky, bursts as she fought to slow her breathing, each inhale coming too sharply, each exhale shaking and trembling, despite the conscious effort she was making to control it.
A fiery red flush persisted on her cheeks, a color that refused to subside, even as she desperately tried to shut her eyes tightly.
She muttered under her breath, "You absolute idiot… you absolute idiot…" Her hand pressed firmly against her breast, as if that might somehow calm the frantic rhythm that was beating in her chest.
Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead, tracing slow and distinct paths down her temple and across her face.
This was the result of a potent cocktail of adrenaline and embarrassment, a feeling far more intense and overwhelming than any physical injury she might have encountered in her medical practice.
William stirred again, this time rousing fully.
His body reacted with a sharp protest as he finally managed to push himself upright, his muscles screaming in response beneath the layers of bandages and dried blood.
The cot groaned under his weight as he pushed his boots onto the cold floor, his balance feeling unsteady but he managed to hold on out of sheer stubborn will.
The room was quiet now.
Too quiet.
Even though the magical aura had dissipated somewhat, there was still a faint, metallic tang lingering in the air, a lingering aftertaste of Nettie's hurried attempts to cast protection spells, filled with fear.
He didn't notice his chest at first.
His gaze shifted away from the main event and instead drifted towards the shallow basin of water that was resting on a table nearby.
The water within the basin seemed perfectly still, its surface mirroring the surroundings.
As he straightened up, his face finally came into view. It was not the golden tan that characterized his human form.
Instead, his skin had a striking grey-blue hue, his usually vibrant silver hair was matted and tangled, and his eyes, despite his young age, held an expression that seemed far older and more weathered than his actual years.
Then he froze.
Right beneath his collarbone, faintly glowing in a faint shade of purple, was a sigil etched directly into his skin, as if it had been there from the beginning.
William followed the sound of civilized noise.
At first, it was nothing more than a distant pressure in the air, a sound that felt like voices were overlapping and grinding together like branches against branches during a storm.
As he moved closer, the sound sharpened.
Anger.
Fear.
Accusation.
The kind of noise that emanated from a crowd already convinced that blood was preferable to showing mercy.
With a final, determined push, he pushed through the very last archway and found himself standing within the heart of that beautiful grove.
The chamber was alive.
Roots, thick and dark, snaked and coiled beneath the stone's surface, resembling veins beneath the skin. They pulsed faintly, casting a soft emerald glow.
The druids filled the space, creating a rough circle with some standing and others perched on the stones, while others seemed to be partially merged with the surrounding bark and moss.
Their voices rose and fell in waves, seemingly reaching a crescendo, until suddenly, a single figure at the center of the group silenced them all without uttering a single word.
Halsin.
Standing tall and proud against the vast blue sky, the Arch-Druid held his staff firmly planted at his side. His presence radiated an ancient aura, a silent testament to an old forest that had weathered the storms of time, surviving not only empires but even the passage of generations.
His gaze remained locked onto the individual who had been forced to kneel before him.
Kagha.
She was bound by the grove itself.
Thick, dark roots had erupted directly from the earth, their tendrils coiling tightly around her wrists, her ankles, and even around her throat.
Not restraining her so much as claiming her.
The defiance that had been so resolute just moments ago had now curdled into something frantic, her eyes darting nervously between the assembled druids, her mouth opening and closing again and again as if sheer volume alone might be the answer to whatever was causing her such distress.
It did not.
Halsin raised one hand, palm outward.
The uproar died instantly.
"You became a snake in our garden," he said, his voice calm in a way that made it terrifying, "our grove. And so I believe it's only fitting that you remain a snake."
William could feel the weight of those words settling down into the stone beneath his feet.
Bang.
Halsin slammed his staff into the ground.
The sound echoed like thunder trapped underground.
The statue of Silvanus, standing imposingly nearby, seemed to tremble slightly as its ancient stone veins glowed faintly for just a fleeting moment.
It was as if the god himself had nodded in approval.
Kagha screamed.
It began unevenly.
Her body seemed to shrink in a violent and jerky manner, not gradually but rather in sudden increments, as if nature were trying to correct some kind of mistake with a surprising and forceful approach.
The bones snapped with a wet, hollow sound. Some seemed to dissolve instantly, transforming into a pale dust that was promptly absorbed into the surrounding soil.
Her spine stretched out grotesquely, her vertebrae multiplying and fusing together into a single, sinuous column that seemed to move with an unnatural grace.
Her arms were yanked inward, the skin on them folding, compressing, and eventually disappearing completely into her belly, as if she were consuming them for fuel or energy.
Fingers twisted, then disappeared entirely.
Her ribs reconnected into smaller, tighter arcs, reshaping to cradle a form that slithered.
Her face was last.
William watched in stunned silence as her entire face shifted. Her jaw pushed forward, teeth thinning and sharpening, her skull seemed to stretch and reform.
Eyes widened and narrowed significantly, pupils constricting to a narrow slit, as terror seized them, transforming into something colder and far more alien within them.
Scales erupted across her skin in rippling patterns of green and brown, swallowing flesh, swallowing identity.
Only one thing remained unchanged.
The scar on her face.
A pale, familiar mark now etched into the scaled hide of a serpent's head.
The screaming cut off abruptly, replaced by a harsh, rattling hiss as Kagha collapsed fully to the ground, her body now a long, coiled shape thrashing once before going still.
The roots loosened their hold, receding back into the soil as if they had finished their work there.
Silence reclaimed the chamber.
Halsin lowered his gaze upon the serpent, his expression neither triumph nor cruelty.
Only finality.
Halsin kept his gaze fixed on the serpent, refusing to avert his eyes for a considerable period of time.
The snake lay coiled precisely where Kagha had fallen, her body limp and slack, her breathing slow and shallow.
Even after death, the last remnants of her magic seemed to still faintly shimmer across her scales.
Unconscious.
Alive.
Halsin exhaled slowly and deliberately through his nose, a breath that was both deliberate and packed with a weight far exceeding the power of his spoken words.
His large hands, which were usually so imposing, surprisingly felt surprisingly gentle as he bent and carefully picked up the serpent from the stone.
Kagha's transformed body was surprisingly lightweight in his grasp, feeling noticeably less dense than she had any reason to expect. This sudden lightness caused something to tighten in his jaw, a physical manifestation of his growing unease.
"Take her," he said, turning slightly.
A younger druid stepped forward, his expression momentarily marked by hesitation before he managed to suppress it and maintain his composure.
He took the serpent into his arms, his touch gentle and careful, as if he were cradling an injured animal, rather than someone to be apprehended as a criminal.
"Release her far away, away from here," Halsin stated, his voice remaining calm and steady. "Out into the deep wilderness. A place that's untouched by roads, paths, or any human structures."
The druid nodded. "And if she returns?"
Halsin's eyes hardened, just a fraction. "She will not."
He paused, then added, quieter, heavier, "Animals belong in the wild. Let the forest decide the rest."
The druid, his face etched with a respectful expression, gracefully bowed his head before departing, his roots parting to make way for his swift passage.
As he moved on, his roots instantly sealed themselves back together, ready for his return.
The faint hiss of Kagha's breathing faded with him, swallowed by leaves and distance.
Halsin turned back to the grove.
The silence that greeted him was sharp.
Many of the druids stood rigid, expressions tightly controlled.
Some individuals didn't make any real effort to conceal their displeasure.
It was quite clear that a simmering anger was present beneath the surface, much like molten magma beneath the earth's crust.
Too merciful.
Too clean.
Too gentle for the blood Kagha had spilled.
William could feel it in the air.
The unspoken tally of dead.
Apprentices lost.
Elders betrayed.
Wounds that would never fully close.
Halsin felt it too.
His gaze swept over them, slow and deliberate.
He did not rebuke them.
Did not justify himself.
He simply met their eyes, one by one, carrying the full weight of his authority and his burden.
No one spoke.
Eventually, the druids stepped aside.
Roots withdrew from his path, moss flattening beneath unseen pressure as Halsin walked forward, staff tapping softly against the stone.
The grove itself seemed to make way for him, as if reluctant to bar the path of one who had given so much of himself to protect it.
He did not look back.
As he approached the archway that led to his chambers, his body language remained completely unchanged.
His posture was unyielding, his broad shoulders remained straight and his steps were measured and steady.
But William saw it.
Just for a heartbeat.
A flicker in Halsin's eyes as the light shifted across his face.
Not doubt.
Not regret.
Pain.
It was that quiet, festering sort, the kind that arose from the difficult choice of mercy when the path of vengeance might have been easier.
Carrying the weight of responsibility long after others had finally let go.
Then the moment passed.
Halsin vanished into the darkness of his chambers, and for the first time in a long time, the grove seemed to breathe again, slowly and reluctantly.