Phealafarian Frontiers: 18: The Day After The Day Before
Morning light crept into the tavern as the party began to stir. After days of tension, trial, and sleepless nights, the warm beams offered the first hint of normalcy. The air smelled faintly of fresh bread, spilled ale, and the woodsmoke from the hearth that had been kept burning through the chill nights.
Tobias moved to check on Tosk, but barely made it down the hallway before hearing the familiar rumbling snore vibrating from behind Tosk’s door. The snores were so deep they rattled the floorboards slightly, causing Tobias to shake his head with a faint smile. He left him be and headed downstairs, where the others were already gathering, their faces a mix of exhaustion and cautious optimism.
As they settled in, the front door swung open with the familiar chime of Sweets arriving for the morning. The broad-shouldered, always-cheerful tavern owner entered carrying a crate of fresh produce and supplies, his usual wide grin firmly in place. His eyes scanned the room with practiced warmth, bringing a welcome sense of normalcy after the recent chaos. “Hey there, folks! How are we doing now that the worst of it is over?”
The group exchanged brief glances, a few eyes flickering toward Eldrin, who remained quiet. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t entirely left him. “We’re doing alright,” Tobias answered for them all, his voice steady but tired.
“Good to hear,” Sweets grinned, setting the crate behind the bar. “Oh! Almost forgot—I got the official word: we’re cleared to reopen the tavern!”
Tobias immediately dipped his head, apologetic once again. “Sweets, I’m truly sorry you had to close because of us.”
Sweets waved a dismissive hand as he began unpacking bottles behind the bar. “It’s really not a problem, my guy. What was it, four days? I’ve closed longer after a good bender or two. You don’t owe me anything.” He gave a wink, trying to lift the mood.
Just then, the tavern door opened once more as Travan and Kira entered together, bringing with them a crisp gust of morning air. Travan offered his usual polite nod, while Kira’s eyes danced with her usual mix of professionalism and humour.
“Good morning, all,” Travan greeted. “I trust you rested well.”
“Ah, good,” Kira added with a bright smile. “I’m here for Tosk.”
Tobias immediately tensed. “Oh Ilmater, what’s he done now?!”
Kira chuckled and waved a hand playfully. “Worry not, I’m just here to collect him for some community service. Got a whole troop outside waiting in case he resists.” She smiled mischievously before heading upstairs.
Thomas shook his head, raising his mug. “Good luck.”
Meanwhile, Eldrin approached Travan with hesitation, his steps slow and shoulders slightly hunched. His eyes, shadowed from restless nights, avoided meeting Travan’s directly. “Hey… I’m really sorry for everything I’ve put you through these past few days,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of guilt and frustration. “I don’t know how I can repay you. I never wanted things to spiral like this.”
Travan raised a hand dismissively. “Fret not, Mr. Valtorin. I rather enjoyed the opportunity to put Lord Crowle in his place. Vyra is recovering nicely, and all it cost me was 200 gold for a fine bottle of scotch to smooth over the blowhard—an expense which will, naturally, come out of your next pay.” His tone was light, but the message was clear.
Thomas leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Do we need to watch out for Crowle now?”
Travan shook his head. “I doubt it. He may bend the ear of anyone who’ll listen with tales of you lot being dangerous ruffians, but I suspect few will take him seriously.”
“What about his mercs?” Thomas added, his brow furrowing.
“Ah yes. Crowle has dismissed The Final Cut.”
The group blinked, surprised. A brief silence followed as they processed the news, their expressions shifting from surprise to quiet concern. Guardian furrowed his brow, Thomas exhaled sharply, and Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “What? Why?” Eldrin finally asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“He blames them for failing both in the arena and in court.”
Thomas snorted and leaned back in his chair. “What a dick.”
“In a word, Mr. Wilderman,” Travan agreed dryly. “In a word.”
Tobias rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we should go see them…”
“I think not, Mr. Folner,” Travan said firmly, his voice softening slightly. “This is a wound that needs time. Interfering too soon might only make it worse.”
Guardian finally spoke up after a moment of silence. “What’s going to happen to them?”
Travan’s expression softened further. “Despite Crowle’s pettiness, they won’t be expelled from the city. Crowle sees unemployment as wasting city resources, but the High Council thankfully disagrees. They’re a talented group. I’m certain they’ll find their way. New opportunities always appear for those with skill.”
From upstairs came Tosk’s confused voice, rising in volume: “What do you mean I gotta pick up rubbish all day?!”
A small commotion followed before Kira reappeared, cheerfully carrying the Luxodon overhead with both arms locked under his shoulders, staggering slightly under his bulk but managing with determined dwarven stubbornness. His protests echoed through his trunk as she carefully descended the stairs.
“This is bullshit!” Tosk yelled.
“See ya later, guys! Lord Travan, sir,” Kira called out cheerfully, giving a sharp nod and departing, leaving the group chuckling even harder at the absurd but impressive sight.
Travan chuckled and clapped his hands together, drawing their attention back. “Now! On to more pressing matters. Your mercenary license remains suspended pending evaluation of your various curses. I’ve arranged for you to be examined at the Moonrise Temple of Illunay in the Clerical District. Judge Lugg’s reaction suggested a simple local chapel might not suffice.”
Tobias stepped forward earnestly. “Seriously, sir. How can we ever repay you for all of this?”
“Again, fret not, Mr. Folner,” Travan replied smoothly. “This is still business. As my employees, your well-being benefits me directly. I prosper from your successes—and, naturally, I take losses from your failures. But let’s leave those unpleasant bits behind us for now, shall we?”
He reached into his coat and withdrew a sealed missive, handing it to Tobias. The parchment was stamped with the wax seal of the city. “Present this at Moonrise Temple and ask for Lumen Ander Tallow. They’ll be expecting you. I’ve taken the liberty of explaining your situation to ensure you are properly seen to.”
The party exchanged glances, each one silently acknowledging the next stage in their ongoing troubles.
Offering one final nod, Travan turned on his heel and departed with his usual grace, leaving the party with their next task ahead.
The early morning city greeted them as they stepped outside. The streets were alive with quiet activity—merchants setting up their stalls, shopkeepers arranging wares in neatly swept storefronts, and the rhythmic hammering of smithies already hard at work. The cool air carried the scents of baked bread, burning coal, and damp stone, blending into a familiar melody of daily life. Overhead, a flock of pigeons circled lazily as couriers darted between buildings, already delivering their first rounds of correspondence for the day.
Children weaved between the adults, carrying baskets of fruit and loaves of bread, while stable hands led horses through the morning fog, their breath visible in the crisp air. Lanterns were slowly extinguished one by one as the rising sunbathed the stonework in a soft amber glow.
Their journey led them toward the Clerical District, where the air itself seemed to change. The bustling noise of the lower districts softened into an almost reverent hush. The tall stone gatehouse that marked its boundary loomed ahead, decorated with silver filigree and carvings of celestial bodies that glistened faintly in the morning light. Two guards stood watch, their polished armour gleaming, eyes sharp but not unkind.
“Papers?” one of the guards asked as the group approached.
Tobias handed over both the sealed missive from Travan and their City Tickets. The guard carefully inspected each document, scanning the wax seals and checking for any irregularities. The second guard leaned in briefly, nodding his approval. Satisfied, the first guard handed everything back and gave a courteous nod. “Everything appears in order. You may proceed. Welcome to the Clerical District.”
As the gates creaked open, the difference was immediate. The roads beyond were paved in pristine, smooth white stone, and every building gleamed with polished marble facades and intricate silverwork. Ornamental gardens lined the streets, with manicured hedges and carefully tended moon lilies swaying gently in the breeze. The scent of fresh incense wafted from nearby shrines, blending with the distant, harmonious tones of temple choirs in morning practice.
There was a serenity here that felt almost surreal. Even the birdsong seemed more delicate, the air cleaner. No hawkers called out for customers, no hammering rang from forges—only the quiet reverence of clerics and temple-goers passing respectfully along the polished paths.
Navigating the winding but immaculate streets, they soon arrived at the Moonrise Temple. The structure was magnificent—a towering edifice of marble, moonstone, and silver that glimmered under the soft light. Its spires rose like fingers toward the heavens, their tips catching glimmers of sunlight. Intricate etchings of celestial maps and lunar phases adorned its archways, and above the grand doors, an inscription read: “Let no falsehood pass where moonlight falls.”
Two acolytes in pale blue and silver robes stood at the temple entrance, their expressions calm but welcoming. As the group approached, Tobias stepped forward and handed over the missive.
“We are here to see Lumen Ander Tallow,” he said.
The acolytes exchanged a glance and nodded. “You are expected,” one replied, her voice warm but measured. “Be advised: the Moonrise Temple reveals the true self. Any illusions, magical disguises, lycanthropy, or shifter forms will be exposed upon entry.”
The party exchanged wary looks with one another but pressed forward, crossing the threshold.
As the temple’s enchantment washed over them, the first change came from Erisa. Her vibrant pink hair shimmered momentarily before shifting into its natural blonde hue. The others remained unaffected, though they each gave cautious glances to confirm no unexpected transformations had occurred.
Inside, the temple’s vast interior opened before them. High vaulted ceilings were adorned with detailed frescoes of moonlit rituals and celestial beings. Rows of tall, silver lanterns cast a gentle luminescence throughout the space, while pools of still water reflected the artwork above. The temple’s silvered ceiling shimmered like liquid mercury, rippling as though alive under the morning sky. The quiet murmur of prayerful acolytes filled the air like a soft hymn.
From the far end of the chamber, a tall, blue-hued moon elf approached with graceful, practiced steps. Their long, flowing robes glimmered in the candlelight like woven starlight. They extended a hand in greeting, their smile serene.
“Welcome,” the elf said in a smooth, steady tone. “I am Lumen Ander Tallow. Lord Hale has informed me of your situation. I have prepared a cleansing ritual for those in need. Tobias Folner, Eldrin Valtorin—please follow me.”
The party followed as Ander led them through a series of quiet hallways, each lined with tall silver mirrors and soft blue tapestries embroidered with lunar sigils. At last, they arrived at a secluded chamber, a peaceful sanctuary lit by dozens of suspended silver lanterns and filled with the gentle fragrance of lavender and incense. The arched ceiling sparkled faintly as though dotted with stars.
At the centre stood a circular pool of shimmering silvery liquid, its surface unnaturally smooth and still, like glass undisturbed. Cushions of blue and silver surrounded the pool in a perfect ring, their placement meticulous.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Ander gestured. The party settled onto the cushions, the stillness of the room amplifying the gravity of the moment.
Ander approached Tobias first, extending a hand. “Shall we begin?”
Tobias took the offered hand and stood. Ander gently walked backward into the pool, the liquid parting soundlessly around them. Tobias followed, feeling the odd resistance of the silvery substance—neither wet nor cold—like wading into pure moonlight.
Standing together in the centre, Ander met Tobias’ eyes. “Do you wish for this?”
“Yes,” Tobias answered firmly.
“May Illunay guide you.” With those words, chanting rose softly from the acolytes as their voices blended into a harmonious melody. Ander gently placed a hand on Tobias’ chest and slowly submerged him beneath the liquid.
Tobias instinctively held his breath as the silver liquid enveloped him, his eyes closing tight. Yet as his lungs began to ache, he exhaled—and was met with the sensation of breathing naturally, as though submerged not in liquid but in air itself.
A wave of relief coursed through him, washing away burdens he hadn’t even realized he still carried. The strain of countless battles, wounds never properly healed, and quiet fears dissolved into the surrounding light. It was as if months of exhaustion had evaporated from his soul in an instant.
When Ander raised him back to the surface, Tobias inhaled deeply—not from panic, but from overwhelming peace. “Go in truth, brother,” Ander whispered, their voice filled with quiet reverence.
As Tobias glanced down, he watched in awe as his body transformed. Old scars, bruises, and lingering cuts faded away as though time itself reversed. Healing magic that once only offered temporary relief now finally completed its work.
With trembling hands, Tobias removed his eyepatch. The faint scar of the broken sun remained, but his once-blinded right eye now opened fully, revealing a vivid green iris—a striking contrast to his grey left eye. His breath caught as he stared at his reflection in the silver pool.
Unable to contain himself, Tobias began unfastening his armour piece by piece, frantically checking every inch of his skin. One by one, the marks of past wounds vanished before his eyes. Realizing only too late that he stood fully naked in his joy, Tobias darted from person to person, embracing each in gratitude—including Ander—before suddenly freezing mid-embrace.
“I—I’m so sorry!” he stammered, his face flushing as he scrambled to gather his underclothes.
Ander chuckled softly, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Think nothing of it, brother. Being disrobed is as much a truth as anything.”
Still red-faced but grinning ear to ear, Tobias quickly dressed himself again. His joy was infectious, and even his companions, who had grown used to hardship, found themselves smiling.
Ander turned next to Eldrin with a gentle nod, their voice calm but firm. “Now brother, shall we do you next?”
Eldrin swallowed nervously, but after a brief hesitation, he stepped forward and took Ander’s extended hand. The ritual resumed much as it had with Tobias—the soft rhythmic chanting filling the chamber, the other acolytes humming in harmony, and the silvery pool gently reflecting the flickering lantern light. The room seemed to hold its breath as the next stage of the cleansing began.
Hand-in-hand, they stepped into the shimmering liquid. The surface of the pool rippled gently as their feet entered, but the liquid’s strange texture—thick like water but offering no cold or true wetness—remained eerily calm. They waded toward the centre where the purification would take place.
As before, Ander fixed Eldrin with their piercing but kind moonlit gaze. “Do you wish for this?”
“Yes,” Eldrin replied, though his voice wavered slightly, betraying an unease that even he couldn’t quite name.
“May Illunay guide you.”
Ander slowly lowered Eldrin beneath the surface. At first, everything seemed normal. Eldrin held his breath, focusing on the quiet pulse of the chanting that resonated even beneath the silvery fluid. The strange calm mirrored Tobias’ experience—until the moment Eldrin exhaled.
The instant the breath left Eldrin’s lungs; the pool convulsed violently. A sudden, violent torrent of black, oily vapor burst from his mouth, twisting like smoke and ink through the liquid. The silvery pool darkened in spiralling tendrils as the blackness spread and thickened. The water roiled with an unnatural heat, turning from shimmering serenity to churning corruption in moments.
A hissing steam filled the chamber as the fluid began to boil. Ander, waist-deep in the increasingly violent pool, screamed as their submerged legs and hands were scorched by the bubbling liquid. Their grip faltered while still clutching Eldrin’s robes, the blisters spreading quickly across their arms as they struggled desperately to keep Eldrin from slipping deeper into the cursed liquid.
Without hesitation, Tobias launched himself back into the pool. His boots slammed into the boiling fluid as scalding heat tore at his skin. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the searing pain as he forced his way toward Ander and Eldrin.
Guardian sprinted to the pool’s edge and instinctively reached to help, but the heat repelled him immediately. Thinking fast, he vanished in a flash of misty energy, reappearing just beyond the pool’s reach. The remnants of his teleportation magic shimmered faintly around him, leaving behind a barrier of protective energy that slowed the encroaching burn.
The chamber filled with the chaotic clash of chanting, the bubbling roar of the cursed liquid, and the grunts of Tobias forcing his way forward. He reached Eldrin’s limp form, wrapping his arms around him, and with agonizing strain began dragging him up through the thick black fluid.
Meanwhile, Thomas threw a rope across the pool while Erisa deftly guided it with her mage hand, expertly wrapping it around Ander’s waist as the elven priest struggled to stay afloat. The others braced themselves, pulling Ander toward the edge.
With combined effort, they finally wrenched both Eldrin and Ander free of the pool, collapsing onto the polished floor. The liquid continued to roil and boil behind them, turning blacker and thicker with every moment, the smell of burning metal filling the chamber.
“Out! Everyone out!” Tobias barked, his voice cracking but urgent. He led the party out of the side chamber as Ander stumbled behind them, slamming the heavy doors shut with a metallic thud. The lock clicked, sealing the corrupted pool inside.
Panting, scorched, and wide-eyed, they caught their breath just outside the chamber. Ander leaned against the wall, visibly shaken but trying to maintain composure. Their arms were burned and trembling.
“I am so sorry, brother,” Ander said to Eldrin, their voice still raw. “That has never happened before. Whatever curse you carry, it is far stronger than I anticipated.”
Eldrin coughed, his face pale but twisted into a faint grimace of humour. “Huh. Well… I guess it’s a good thing Tobias went first. Sorry I wrecked your pool.”
Ander managed a weak chuckle despite their burns. “It is alright. We cleanse it at the end of each day regardless. Though, I suspect it may take quite a bit more silver this time.”
Eldrin, breathing heavily but steadier now, reached into his coin pouch and offered a heavy sack. “At least allow me to help cover the cost.” He pressed 100 gold into Ander’s blistered hands, which the elf accepted with a grateful bow.
Tobias, still grimacing from his own scalded burns but trying to match Eldrin’s gesture, stepped forward. “I don’t have nearly as much, but I want to give what I can.” He handed over five silver coins before dropping to one knee, his voice filled with reverence. “And I pledge my service to this temple and to Illunay—”
Ander raised a hand quickly, gently halting him. “Please, brother. Such pledges are not necessary. Illunay fulfils Their purpose freely.”
“But you’ve given me back my life,” Tobias insisted, his voice thick with emotion.
“Then go and live it, brother,” Ander repeated softly, offering a serene smile.
The acolytes began tending to Ander’s injuries while the party gathered themselves. After a brief rest to collect their breath, the battered group stepped back into the busy streets, feeling the weight of what had just transpired settle in their bones.
By midday, the city’s energy had swelled to full bustle. The once-quiet streets of morning were now a hive of activity. Merchants called out from crowded stalls, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meats filled the air, and the clamour of metalworkers rang from open smithies.
Navigating the dense foot traffic, the party carefully wove through streams of shoppers, labourers, and city guards. With the crowd growing thicker, they slipped into a series of side alleys to make better time toward the Crafting District. The narrower streets were quieter but shadowed, their walls towering high with laundry lines and balconies stretching across.
As they rounded one such alley, a sudden blur of motion dropped down from the rooftop above, landing with precision directly in their path. The thud of armoured boots echoed slightly as a figure stood upright.
The group froze instinctively, hands drifting toward weapons, though they held back from drawing steel outright.
The figure before them stood tall and poised, clad in immaculate green plate armour that shimmered beneath the filtered sunlight. Her presence was commanding, yet there was no hint of aggression in her posture.
“Are you Steal Team 6?” she asked, her tone even, confident, and warm.
Thomas narrowed his eyes, voice cautious. “Depends who’s asking.”
The figure’s tone remained steady, though her full face helmet concealed any visible expression. Her voice carried a calm warmth as she continued speaking. “I only wished to thank you for your work in Timberwood. Like the others, I was turned into a tree. Without your intervention, I would still be rooted in silence.”
Tobias relaxed slightly, lowering his hand from the hilt of his sword. “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. Might I ask your name?”
The woman straightened and gave a courteous bow. “Of course. How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Lady Brightglade.”
