The party found themselves in the whispering mists of the Ethereal Plane as the last of the tower melted into a coagulated slime of ectoplasm beneath them. “Wait!” Siegfried said. “Didn’t Varien say that the wizard Gallio had returned to the plane?” Varien nodded. “I don’t know what became of him, but when I lost concentration, that meant my banishment spell no longer had any effect on him.” Through sheer force of will, Siegfried drifted down to the surface, knee-deep in the slimy morass. “Oh, the dry-cleaning bill will be steep,” he muttered to himself as he reached in and dredged around in the ectoplasmic muck. He brought out his gauntlets, dripping slime and long strands of viscous fluid that stretched horribly back into the goo. His eyes narrowed as he noticed streaks of blood shot throughout the muck. “I wonder, did Gallio return to the Ethereal Plane in one piece?” Alec and Erwen shot each other a nervous glance. “Well then, I don’t have a surefire way of returning you all to the Prime Material,” Siegfried said. “Erwen, do you have another plane shift in you?” “I have word of recall ,” offered Bob. “Ah!” Siegfried’s eyes lit up. “That would take us back to the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep, now, wouldn’t it? If I didn’t have Brevindon to deal with, I would suggest we use that method to return to the City of Splendors, but alas.” He pondered for a moment. “We could still shove him into that portable hole and return him with us to Waterdeep.” Varien glared at Siegfried. “We don’t smuggle diabolists in my pocket, thank you.” “You don’t. I might.” Siegfried said. “Diabolists can resist being teleported against their will in some cases.” “How does my tuning fork work, anyway?” Erwen said. “As long as you keep that around, you can fast-travel to the Ethereal Plane any time you want,” Siegfried said. Erwen nodded. “But to get back to the Prime Material, I’ll need a steel tuning fork tuned to the key of C.” “How musically proficient of you, small man!” Siegfried said. “Are you sure you weren’t left on a bardic college’s doorstep as an infant before the foxes found you?” “Wolves,” Erwen corrected. Alec stomped around in the sludge, feeling around for evidence of Gallio. He made a disgusted face as he came up with a severed hand that was missing a finger, and a bloody scrap of a starred cloak. “Here is the wizard,” Alec said. “He’s, um, no longer with us.” He shot Erwen a dirty look. Siegfried thought for a moment. “Let’s cast dispel magic on that hand,” he said. He cast the spell and immediately Varien, Theryn and Bob disappeared back to the Prime Material Plane, leaving Alec, Erwen and Siegfried in the Ethereal Plane. “Small man, have you got a way to get you and Alec back?” he asked. “Nope,” Erwen said. “Huh,” Siegfried said. “I have about 30 seconds left here. If I come up with something, I’ll come back for you.” Erwen snapped his fingers, inspired. “I’ve got it! I’ll turn me and Alec into phase spiders and we’ll just phase our way to the Prime Material!” “Splendid!” Siegfried said. “That will give Bob quite a scare when we show up,” Alec said. Erwen cast animal shapes and he and Alec morphed into phase spiders. With a multi-ocular wink, Erwen blurred and blinked out of sight. Alec followed. Back in the Prime Material, Bob, Theryn and Varien regarded the pile of rubble where the Tower of Thalivar once stood. A cloud of dust was beginning to settle over a growing crowd of townsfolk who were gathering at the foot of the hill, gaping at the tower’s sudden destruction. Out of the corner of Bob’s eye he saw a flash, and suddenly two threatening-looking phase spiders loomed over him. “Good night,” he wheezed, passing out from fear. Alec morphed back into human form quickly enough to catch his brother before he hit the dirt. “Easy, brother, you can rest now,” he said, cradling Bob. Erwen tapped about on his multiple legs. Alone on the Ethereal Plane, Siegfried looked about at the swirling shadows and eternal fog for a few moments, thinking. He cleared his throat. “Well, mother?” he called out to the shadows. “Anything to say?” The ash falling from his fiery mantle began to take on a life of its own, threading through the gloom in a whirlwind that grew in size and intensity. Siegfreid stood resolute while the ash and smoke formed the slender, ill-proportioned silhouette of his dead mother. Abomination , the bleeding ash shape hissed. “I’m starting to feel like you need me more than I need you these days,” he said to the spectral form. Impudence , his mother replied. All boys love their mothers . Siegfried was careful to hide his true feelings. “That is how it goes, isn’t it?” Fulfill your destiny, or DIE . “Can you do that?” Siegfried asked. “Can you kill me?” For a moment, the female shape seemed uncertain. “Can you kill your own son?” Siegfried asked. “Do you have any method of sending me to my room without my supper?” Anger began to blot out any maternal instinct that may have remained within the ashen shade. “Because I seem to remember you promising me a crown, when I had an elder twin brother this whole time. So I don’t know where we stand in trusting each other and doing what we’re told.” Trust? Trust! Trust that you not waste the gift you were given, she hissed. Trust in the gifts you have been given. Siegfried made as if to consider this, then filled his hand with the ethereal elfbane cutlass and stabbed it viciously into his mother’s ashen body. “I trust what has been earned,” he snarled, unleashing a branding smite . Siegfried’s mother shrieked, a scream of rage that sent the fog swirling away from her. “I will not be your assassin to put Rulgar on the throne,” Siegfried said firmly. “Rethink your role as mother!” Aghast, his mother gathered herself for a counterattack, and as she rushed towards Siegfried, he popped out of the Ethereal Plane, leaving her to scream and wail impotently in the foggy gloom that closed in around her. Her rage manifested itself in a sphere of Shadowfell energy that blotted out the ethereal terrain. On the Prime Material Plane, Spider-wen’s senses tingled as he perceived something happening on the Ethereal Plane. He could make out the shapes of two figures standing off against one another, and then suddenly Siegfried popped back into the Prime Material, sword in hand. Ash was dripping from his ethereal blade. Why am I always the one witnessing unspeakable horrors? He asked himself. Siegfried turned to regard the pile of rubble where the tower once stood and checked for its ethereal shadow. Seeing none, he lowered his sword. “Lance-Captain Shadra!” he called out. “I think we fixed it!” Shadra burst into laughter and shook her head ruefully. “Siegfried, I hope you know what you’re doing.” Siegfried smiled. “I like to pretend that I don’t. May I buy you a drink?” Shadra nodded. “I am going to need one,” she said. “Show us to the pub!” Siegfried said. Grizzelda elbowed Varien in the ribs. “You can buy me a drink as well.” The paladin’s eyes widened. Bob’s eyes fluttered open. “I need to see to Skraper,” he said, as Alec lifted him to his feet. He saw the liondrake prowling in the tall grass. “My boy!” he called out. “Yes, we can wash all this dust down with a pint at the Quayside Inn,” Shadra was saying to Siegfried as he sheathed his sword. The Lance-Captain looked around. “Tell me, where’s Gallio?” “Gally-who?” Bob said. Alec looked uncomfortably at Erwen and didn’t reply. “A trap was triggered,” Siegfried said to Shadra. “We did not see what happened, but we found his remains.” Shadra’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded slowly at that. “If Gallio was working counter to Lord Neverember, then I’m sure he got what he deserved,” she said, as if trying to convince herself of that. Alec’s attention was drawn to the papers blowing around in the wind from the collapse of the tower. He’d thrown Gallio’s papers and journals aside after grabbing them from the wizard’s study. Siegfried used animate objects to help gather them up. With a jaunty salute, Socks and the rest of Erwen’s badger brigade disappeared from whence they came. “I’ll see you again soon, my furry friends,” Erwen said under his breath. The Quayside Inn was a rather quaint establishment near the docks where the High Road veered close. There was a stable connected to the inn where they were able to stash Skraper on the stipulation that he not eat any of the horses boarded within. “Perhaps we can buy our loyal friend Skraper a cow, or a goat, to fill his belly in exchange for a job well done,” Siegfried said. “Skraper, what do you feel like eating today?” The dragonne pulled on his beard thoughtfully. “Skraper thinking goat. Skraper do enjoy mutton on occasion. It been a while. Skraper been at sea.” “Alive or do you want someone to prepare it for you?” Siegfried said. “Skraper enjoy the chase,” the liondrake said. Siegfried quickly found a goat for sale and handed the poor creature over to the liondrake. There was some merry singing happening within the tavern itself. Entering the taproom, the party could see the place was lousy with sailors, including a contingent from the Tide-Runner led by none other than Captain Ironclaw herself, leading her crewmates in song. They were singing a rowdy song about a pirate’s table, competing, musically speaking, with two other ship crews in the pub. One table was crowded with Dragonborn sailors wearing jaunty tricorne hats, their captain hopping from one foot to the other in time with the beat, an iguana perched on his broad shoulders. Not to be outdone, there was a table full of yowling Tabaxi mariners, led by a female who looked three sheets to the wind, balancing a pyramid of beer steins. Behind the bar stood a nervous-looking bartender and sitting against the wall was a young Halfling woman with green hair. Erwen took note of the Halfling woman and used alter self to make himself look a little handsome. Siegfried tapped his foot in perfect rhythm, joining in the rowdy song but skilfully using wordplay to steer the lyrics towards his heroic companions. He hopped onto the tavern’s corner stage and belted out verse after verse: “A cheer for Alec and for Bob the renowned, a cheer for the men who brought the Tower down!” “A cheer for Erwen and Varien who foulspawn did slice, “A cheer for those who made the tower fall twice!” Soon the entire tavern was singing the praises of the Champions of Phandalin, et al. Hopping offstage, Siegfried surreptitiously gave the bartender a bag of coin. “For whatever trouble my friends might get into.” The bartender nodded with a thankful expression on his face as a number of beer steins suddenly shattered to great applause behind Siegfried. Erwen noticed the Halfling woman was playing a harmonica, and pulled out his pan flute to join her in the song. “Have yourself a good time, small man,” Siegfried said, clapping Erwen on the shoulder and giving him some bardic inspiration. He then turned to Bob. “Would you like to help me out with this cultist situation back aboard ship?” Bob smiled as he saw Alec joining the sailors in a contest of strength involving deadlifting wine casks, and nodded, happy to let his brother take care of the carousing. The pair left the rollicking bands of sailors to their own devices as they made their way back to the docks and walked up the gangplank onto the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Captain Laurel was on deck, loudly supervising some repair work. She turned to regard Siegfried. “Ah, Master Thann! That prisoner we transferred from the Tide-Runner has been asking after you, repeatedly, mind you.” “Has he said anything useful?” Siegfried asked. “He says he’s only going to talk to you,” Captain Laurel said. “Well, let’s see if I’m willing to talk to him. Thank you for the good work you do, Captain,” Siegfried replied. Captain Laurel nodded and went back to haranguing her work crew. Brevindon Margaster had been transferred from the Tide-Runner’s infirmary to the mid-deck cell block on the Queen Anne’s Revenge , and had adjusted to his surroundings, arms still trussed up against the iron frame of his cot. He looked out the nearest porthole listlessly as the echoes of merriment traveled faintly across the water. At Siegfried’s approach, his expression brightened. “Ah, Siegfried! You accepted my invitation!” The half-orc pulled open the cell door and hung a lantern on a hook just out of reach, looking down at the prone noble severely. “Brevindon, prisoners in the hold of another person’s ship don’t extend invitations. They request to see their jailor.” “And yet, here you are,” Brevindon smiled. He looked over at Bob dismissively. “Could you give us a minute?” “No,” Siegfried shook his head. “Bob’s here to revive you in case I kill you during our conversation because you said something stupid.” He pulled out a piece of chalk and began to sketch an approximation of a fiendish summoning circle around Brevindon’s cot. “Siegfried, I thought you knew me better than that,” Brevindon tsked as he watched the half-orc work. He cleared his throat. “But fair enough, I will swallow my pride. If I have to beg for my life and liberty in front of your associates, I’m glad it’s not the one who cut off my hand. It might as well be the one who reattached it.” “That’s what I’m here for,” Bob said. “Witnessing shit. I’m writing a book one day.” “Oh, are you?” Brevindon looked up at Bob with mock interest. “Could you keep my name out of it, please?” “Oh sure, I’ll give you a fitting pseudonym,” Bob said. “Why thank you,” Brevindon said. He leaned back in his cot. “So, noble to noble, Siegfried, I’m growing very tired of this trifle. Look at me.” He gestured with his bound hands down at himself. “I’m too pretty and my social calendar is too full to-” Siegfried punched him square on the nose. Brevindon smirked. “Okay, let me start again-” “This is inconvenient!” Siegfried bellowed as he punched the cultist in the face again. “An inconvenience! What pray tell do you hope to get out of his conversation, Brevindon? What do you think will be the consequences of your actions?” Brevindon licked a barely-split lip. “Consequences, Siegfried? Consequences? I believe I’ve suffered enough, Siegfried Thann. Do you have any idea the number of drinking buddies of mine that you and your friends have killed? You know how this goes, all right? This was a diversion, a pleasant way to pass the time, a way to earn some coin, d’you see? But thanks to your companions I’ve lost many carousing partners and at the end of the day, for what? So, I’m coming to you with my metaphorical hat in hand, asking you what can I offer you to avoid having my throat slit in the dark of night by your companions when we return to Waterdeep.” Bob bristled. “Hey, we’re not-” “Quiet, Bob,” Siegfried interjected. He prestidigitated the taste of one of the many chamber pots that a younger Brevindon had pushed a younger Siegfried’s face into on more than one occasion when they were growing up together in the North Ward. Brevindon sputtered and spat. “Yes, Siegfried, I know I’ve got a lot of answer for. But we are a long time away from those parlour games we used to play when we were young, are we not? Look at you! Look at what you’ve become! Are you not willing to let bygones be bygones for the right price?” “You attempt to bribe an officer of the law of Waterdeep?” Siegfried asked. Brevindon rolled his eyes. “Officer of the law? Oh, here we go…You know well as I do, that I won’t spend more than a single night in the lockup.” “You’re right!” Siegfried snapped. “But,” Brevindon continued. “I’m trying to avoid any further inconvenience and unpleasantness because I feel as though I have something to offer, if not for my freedom, then for your attentions to be turned elsewhere. I can make it worth your while.” “Brevindon,” Siegfried said wearily. “The crime of treason against Waterdeep is punishable by death.” “Treason?” Brevindon sat up sharply against his bonds. “What are you talking about?” “Do you know what the aim of Markosian’s journey to Waterdeep was?” Siegfried asked. Brevindon shook his head. “I only know what Loreloth told me. We were traveling to the Leaning Lighthouse to prepare a welcoming reception. We were playing host to a homecoming, that’s all. Markosian was traveling from up north to meet us at the Lighthouse. I don’t know what was supposed to happen next.” “Do you know how many people died in Markosian’s wake up north?” Siegfried snapped. Brevindon shrugged. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. But look-” Siegfried grabbed up Brevindon and dragged him to the lowest deck of the ship where there were still piles of bloody, scorched bones in the process of being de-desecrated by a priestess of Lathander. He shoved the struggling Brevindon into the bones, pushing his face into the pit. “They were coming to Waterdeep to bring death!” Siegfried shouted. “Death to your friends and neighbours! And you’re attempting to bribe me?” “It’s not bribery, it’s an understanding!” Brevindon said as he squirmed beneath Siegfried’s boot. “Noble to noble!” “There is nothing noble about you, Margaster!” Siegfried said contemptuously. “Ever since you put that brand on your forehead, or wherever you cultists so profane yourselves.” Brevindon sighed theatrically. “Have it your way, then.” “You can say what you want and I can try and persuade the Lord’s Court that you are repentant and willing to cooperate in an investigation, and maybe, maybe , you will live out the rest of your days in irons,” Siegfried continued. Brevindon shook his head. “As I said before, my social calendar is too full for me to spend my days at Revel’s End. Did you know I finally managed to finagle a reservation at the Saucy Satyr ? It can be yours, Siegfried. I will give up my booth.” Siegfried made eye contact with one of the clerics of Lathander. “This man was working with the conspirator who laid waste to Auckney. Is there anything you’d like to say to him?” Brevindon was shaking his head. “It’s not true, Siegfried. It’s not true. Loreloth was making a deal with Lorcan to intercept the offering, but that got scotched as well, no thanks to you.” Siegfried was about to launch a kick at the cultist’s head, but Bob put a hand on his shoulder, indicating that Brevindon appeared to believe what he was saying. Siegfried calmed himself and said, “So, here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to let me detect your thoughts and you’re going to show me the events you wish to show me, and I will take that into consideration when I send my reports to Waterdeep tomorrow morning.” Brevindon frowned. “Consideration is one thing, Siegfried. I need assurances. I will sing like a bard’s pet canary if I think I can trust you.” Siegfried sat down heavily next to Brevindon, heedless of the bones, blood and mud. A look of hope crossed Brevindon’s face. “Siegfried, we go back a long way.” Siegfried nodded absently, staring into the middle distance. “I want you to think of another world, a world where perhaps you went to a lighthouse where you came and you found a childhood friend,” Siegfried paused moment and considered. “No, a childhood victim. In a cult of devils—knowingly, unknowingly, doesn’t matter—working with a group that you had knowledge of that was coming to destroy Waterdeep, and I were to try and persuade you for assurances, for my testimony and maybe a few bottles of choice wine, that I should be exempt from all sins against Waterdeep, life, and decency.” He fixed his gaze on Brevindon’s eyes. “I want to you tell me, were I the one begging at your feet, would you give me the same?” Brevindon tried to endure Siegfried’s piercing gaze but looked away, tears welling in his eyes. “Rules for thee but not for me, rules for thee but not for me,” he mumbled. “Yes, I understand.” “You’re alive at this moment only because your grandmother showed me kindness. Your grandmother, when we were children, washed my face, cleaned my clothes, fed me. She will have a chance to speak with you before you go, but also you will face the laws of Waterdeep and they will decide your fate.” Tears flowed down Brevindon’s face. “You cannot buy me,” Siegfried said. “You haven’t been able to scare me for a long time, and I have already faced a lot worse than the people who paid for your soul.” He straightened up. “The fact is, noblesse oblige , and those who are unworthy, well, you had those same sleepless nights I did when your parents were dragging others out into the streets at night, slitting their throats. I like to think I’m better than that.” He lifted the limp Brevindon to his feet and took him back to his sequestered sanctuary . “Geez,” Bob said, watching the whole exchange. Brevindon was all but undone by Siegfried’s incisive invective. Ushering Brevindon through the glowing portal, Siegfried cast detect thoughts. Brevindon’s surface thoughts were a jumble of memories involving his many childhood tortures of Siegfried, mixed with thoughts of Loreloth, Lorcan, and other names that bubbled up from his psyche. “If Loreloth is dead for good this time, then leadership of the Hand of Nessus will doubtless fall to Zoleth the Drow. But I don’t think he wants the job.” “One of the cultists you killed was Veluithan Melshimber, son of that secret-merchant Gholsetha Melshimber. She works as a Master of Pages in Candlekeep.” Another you killed was Bellivar Bowmantle. His sister, Belvarra, moves in high circles. Siegfried also saw a flash of a dilapidated rowhouse on Aveen Street, with the mantra “hell on earth, hell on earth,” repeating through Brevindon’s psyche. “Tell me about the rowhouse on Aveen Street,” Siegfried said to Brevindon. Brevindon sniffled. “It’s a meeting place. Hell on earth. You’ll find it in the North Ward.” “Who owns it? What happens there?” Siegfried asked. Brevindon shrugged. “I just know it is a place to be avoided if you’re not committed fully to the cause. I wasn’t high up enough in the hierarchy to learn more.” Siegfried also got a flash of one of Waterdeep’s famous Walking Statues, this one the God-Catcher , which had gone on a rampage through the city like its fellow giant statues more than a century ago. The Blackstaff used magic to turn the earth beneath the rampaging statue to mud, causing it to sink up past its waist into the ground. As mysteriously as its rampage had begun, it ceased, and the partly-sunken statue became one of the Castle Ward’s most notable landmark, with a great stone sphere hovering just above its upraised right hand. Tenement buildings and inns had since been constructed on scaffolds that covered the statue’s exterior and its interior. “Tell me about the God-Catcher.” “The Right Hand of Nessus,” Brevindon said. “Is where we meet.” His thoughts strayed to the statue’s oustretched right hand. “So, it’s a place, not just a title.” Siegfried said. Suddenly, Brevindon thought about a memory. Loreloth was seated before him in a dingy, cramped chamber. “Ah, my boy, there’s money to be made in devilry,” the deathlock mastermind said, rubbing his hands together. “I want you out there on the streets. I need you to turn up information on “one shy of a million gold, one shy of a hundred souls.” You figure that out. You and your high falutin’ friends. We’re going to get a piece of that action. We’re going to cut that fat banker cuckold and his butterfly-loving harpy of a wife out of the score. It’s going to be delicious. Delicious, Margaster. I want you to hire somebody, I don’t care who, to keep an eye on Renaer Neverember. He’s the key to this whole thing. You do that and you’re going to be rich, you hear me Brevindon? Rich! You’ll be rewarded in this life and the next. Asmodeus told me so.” “Now, I don’t really have insights into the veracity of your memories, Brevindon, but Loreloth was coming on a little strong, wasn’t he?” Siegfried said. “Trying to egg you on, perhaps? What was the score with Renaer?” Brevindon shrugged again. “I don’t know. We were supposed to watch him. They were talking about some kind of eye, or stone. I don’t know what it means. Again, noble to noble, going after the son of the former Open Lord, that didn’t seem right.” Siegfried thought about Brevindon’s thoughts. There were plenty of fat bankers in Waterdeep whose wives likely stepped out with whoever might have a pulse and a pretty face, and nobles did gossip better than anyone. It occurred to him that he was once chased out of a butterfly conservatory on the Cassalanter estate. He and his young noble friends had been after cocoons and chrysalises as spell components, and nobody loved butterflies as much as Ammalia Cassalanter. “What does Ammalia Cassalanter have to do with this?” Siegfried asked. Brevindon looked nervous. “I don’t know.” “Why can her daughter control objects with her mind. “I didn’t have anything to do with that!” Brevindon blurted. “I swear!” “Hey, I’m just talking here,” Siegfried said. “I know some things you don’t know, and I’m looking to have some blanks filled in.” Brevindon was shaking his head. “Look, I-” “Why has their eldest son not been seen in polite society for quite some time?” Brevindon was a slobbering mess. “The kids. It’s the kids. Those poor kids. It’s not right.” “What’s not right? What happened to the Cassalanter children?” Siegfried pushed deeper into Brevindon’s mind. And came face to face with Lorcan. All Brevindon’s thoughts bled away around the cambion, who sneered at Siegfried. “What do you think you’re doing?” the devil asked. “Oh my, did I just discover the restricted section of the Library of Brevindon?” Siegfried asked the cambion. “Pathetic,” Lorcan sneered. “Your house,” Siegfried said. “Your lands. Your planes. Your powers. Your armory. Your serfs. You know all of it is going to be mine as I take everything from you.” “You think so?” Lorcan snarled. “Is that what you think? “Try and stop me,” Siegfried said. “Oh, I will,” Lorcan said. “You and I have a score to settle.” Lorcan’s fiendish aura appeared to be eating Brevindon’s mind. “I told you to stay away from those under my thrall.” Siegfried sighed. “He’s not going to survive this, is he?” Lorcan smiled evilly. “He was already dead. He just didn’t know it. And you, you have no power here.” Siegfried quickly attempted to find a memory of Brevindon doing something nice for someone else. He had to search far and wide for such a sliver of thought. “Oh, that is so cute,” Lorcan chuckled. “This poor fool didn’t know which side he was on.” “No, he was always an idiot,” Siegfried said. “A stupid bully always getting over his head, but he was mine to torment, Lorcan. He was mine to crush and get my revenge on for what he did to me, and you’ve stolen that from me.” Lorcan smiled. “I have, haven’t I? I do so look forward to continuing this conversation in a more official capacity. But for now, say goodbye to Brevindon Margaster.” There was a flash of light and thought as Siegfried was forced from Brevindon’s mind. He was back in the sequestered sanctuary , with Brevindon reclining on a lounge chair, looking curiously at Siegfried with shining eyes. A thin trickle of blood flowed from his nose. “Siegfried,” he said in a shaky voice, “what’s happening?” “It’s Lorcan,” Siegfried said with some sympathy. “He placed a failsafe inside you and I can’t stop it.” “But…this was just a passing fancy…” Brevindon said weakly. “A way to pass the time…” “It was devils, Brevindon!” Siegfried said. “There’s a reason why they tell you not to make deals with them. They’ll deceive you, use you and waste you. There’s no happy ending for those who truck with fiends.” Brevindon nodded slowly. “I…I’m beginning to get an understanding of that, Siegfried.” Siegfried frowned as he saw something strange in Brevindon’s left eye, which was beginning to dilate, to the point where his pupil was nothing but a black orb. Siegfried watched as the eyeball grew in size, straining against Brevindon’s eye socket. Blood began to well up around the orb as a tiny pair of claws began to force their way out of the black portal that had replaced his eye. Siegfried grabbed for a weapon, intent on putting out Brevindon’s eye. By the time he stabbed down with a blade, his hand could fit into Brevindon’s eye socket, which was now weeping horribly as something grotesque and horrible began extricating itself from the cultist’s head. “Siegfried, what’s happening?” Brevindon had time to repeat before his skull and jaw cracked open to allow a devilish creature to rip and tear its way out of a fleshy prison. Broad, leathery wings unfurled as the fiend stepped out of the wet, tangled ruin of Brevindon’s body, and the creature shook his horned head, cracking his neck in satisfaction as the cultist’s remains sloughed off him like a second skin. “I am free!” the devil roared. Then it fixed its terrible gaze on Siegfried and Bob. “Free to deal with you!”