The dim candlelight in Xylos’s back office flickered, stretched, and snapped backward into the walls as the shadows pooled once again into the looming, elegant form of Nyx. Their voice didn't carry through the air so much as it echoed directly behind Xylos’s eyes, cool as grave-dirt and smooth as silk.

"The shadows have spoken, Xylos," Nyx purred, their form shifting like dark smoke as they leaned over the edge of his oak desk.

"We found your runaway blueberry. She isn't wandering the upper planes, nor is she trapped in some planar rift. She sits in the high halls of a temple dedicated to Morpheous the Dreamer, deep in the frozen reaches of Ichoros, caged like a dangerous animal." Nyx continued, their shadowy eyes gleaming in the dark.

"They see only the darkness draped over her shoulders. They prepare an altar as we speak—a grand, bloody ritual to tear the shadow demon from her chest and scrub away every 'evil mark' etched into her soul. By tomorrow’s dawn, they mean to cleanse her until there is nothing left of the girl you know."

Xylos stood motionless, setting his glass down on the wood with a sharp, heavy clink. The nonchalant tavern-keeper was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, lethal authority that left no room for hesitation.

"Cleanse her, will they?" Xylos’s voice dropped, carrying a freezing edge that cut through the room. "They think they’re saving a lost soul. They’re just going to break her."

He threw open the office door, his voice booming out into the Sunless Tavern with a harsh, unyielding command that instantly silenced the room. "Ryum and Yumi, Shinikabi, Bony Alice, Helsie, Alaric move it—now!" Xylos’s dark eyes swept over his crew, sharp enough to draw blood.

"Pack for the snow. We're marching on this temple and we aren't leaving until we bring our girl home—before those holy fanatics even touch that altar."