‘Don’t return without the netherstones’, he had told you. You’d heard it, clear as day - and yet, here you stand, party members back at camp and alone outside of the audience chamber. There’s a warm glow coming from the open doorway - firelight, you surmise.

Were you thinking clearer, you’d go back to camp. Never would have come. But something about him stirs something in you. Some piece at the back of your mind that yearns for who you were. Who you were to him.

Whatever that had been.