Over and over, the scene replayed in her mind. Why hadn't she just left when he had hinted at it? Living in ignorance was far better than knowing that Glor had no faith in her, or what she was doing.

...even if it means eliminating you.

What was she doing anymore? She'd lost sight of any one particular goal long ago. She had no 'battle plan' as it were. She was just stumbling along blindly behind Khellenduras, hoping that in the end her sacrifices would redeem her and save her loved ones from a horrible fate that lay ahead.

She had told them the truth about the phylactery, despite what Khellenduras had insisted time and again. But would they believe her? Maybe. Maybe not. She wasn't sure it mattered anymore. She was the only one who could save herself, it seemed. No one else was up to the task. But where to begin? Maybe Khalin had been right. It was Fate. She was damned to this dark path and it would have its way with her no matter what she wanted. Another thought came to mind. What would Khellenduras do if he found out that she had openly discussed the truth of his phylactery?

Pacing back and forth across the Ostar tower roof, the wind blew peacefully, tousling her hair and cooling her thought-fevered brow. Khalin was back. Things were going to change. And despite the peace and calm serenity of the wind, the bay, and the rest of the world around her... Myra could feel a tempest on the horizon.

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A mysterious letter had been left, nailed into the stone wall of her home with a piton, when she returned home. The careful flowing script was only vaguely familiar, and while disturbing in the memories it brought... the contents of the letter left Myra sickly pale.

My little elfling,

I see you have been busy in my absence. Indeed, I've heard things most interesting of you since my arrival upon the surface. Do not fear, I'll not be returning to your home. Your cousin Laina has disappeared and I'll not mire myself in the service of some ignorant elfmaid. I have found more promising employ. And my employer should be most interested in you upon his arrival, indeed. I shall be removing my things from your home, and you will not see me again - until the flow of events calls for it.

Oh, by the way. Your beloved Glorfindle stumbled into the Arrow last evening. Most interesting place it has become during my trip. He was rather bashed about looking, and going on about your darling lich. Apparently your lich is fond of you, for he beats up those who offend you. How delicious. I do hope the healers can save his looks; from what I remember, he sometimes lacks charm.

Farewell for now,
~Ivy~
Venenum Spiritorum

When next Myra had any recollection of anything, she found herself standing deep in the Crypts. The coagulated blood of zombies and other half-rotted undead clung to her hands and was smeared on her face and through her hair. Cuts and gashes marred her armor, a few finding her soft flesh. There was a pile around her of undead remains. Not remembering how she got there, Myra quickly made her way back to the surface. She startled a wandering healer when she burst from the doors and he made a sign of protection in front of him in the air before realizing it was an elfmaid and not some animated corpse.

She made her way to the waterfall. Stripping off her armor and clothing, she put them in a pile and burned them. The note she had found at her home, she also tossed onto the pile. Climbing down the rocks she stood beneath the falls, letting the water calm her nerves and clean the mingled bloods from her body. Taking a deep breath, she fought to clear her mind. She recalled what she and Khalin had discussed and smiled. Then she remembered what Joy had said about accepting Fate.

Climbing from the waters, she opened her pack and withdrew her wine red dress. Slipping it on, she settled her floppy hat on her head. Her pack settled into place on her back and she began strolling back to the Glade. She hummed as she walked, and her fingers seemed to dance with strange gestures as she went.