Adam rubbed his chin, his gaze locked on Grum'Thal's face. The sparkling hope in the great shaman's red eyes did nothing to soften the scars of suppressed fire digging across his face. Still, he heard the slight joyful tremor in that deep voice of his. It was genuine, the counterpoint of fifteen thousand years of despairing powerlessness.
That single clue was all Adam needed to banish his doubts about Grum'Thal's honesty. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe the old orc was luring him with half-truths and theatrics he failed to see through. But, he wanted to believe the old orc—to believe in his honor.
He nodded. "Do you know where that person is? Probably not after so long, but if he's still around, I'll find and ask him for you. You have my word, and I don't give it lightly."
"I trust you on that, Adam. I trust you." Grum'Thal tipped his head. It was barely noticeable, a rare show of gratitude that made Adam smile. Then, he continued. "It's not a person; a gathering. The children of the stars, they called themselves after House Mortis collapsed. I believe they were once part of it, survivors, perhaps."
Adam frowned when he added. "Or impostors. I've heard they operated in the shadows of Brineheart back then, likely in shady black markets or on the outskirts. They might have changed their nas. Perhaps they're gone. But if they're still around, they are our best chance to find the cure."
"The children of the stars..." Adam drumd on the table through the soft leather covering it thoughtfully. Then, he nodded slowly, the task of saving the orcs from a fate of eternal servitude in death pressing on his shoulder as if it were his own burden. "That's where I'll begin after returning..."
His voice trailed off, his fingers drumming harder on the table until his eyes widened. Of course, he didn't have the slightest idea about how to cure Grum'Thal's corruption. But a mory struck him, the blow deafening his mind. He also knew soone, or rather, sothing—likely the thing that knew most about demonic energy he could ever find.
"That annoying bastard will never help..." he muttered, sighing.
Across from him, Grum'Thal frowned. "Who?"
"You really don't want to know... Let's say I was forced into an unfair deal that I want to shatter as well, not that it matters for now. Wait for a mont. I need to think."
Before Grum'Thal could answer, he closed his eyes.
When he reopened them, the braziers lining the war council walls were gone. So was Grum'Thal. A breeze that carried the scent of grass on a hot day, and the musty flavors of the nearby forest, ruffled his hair.
In the distance, moonlight cascaded down the vigorous branches of the once decrepit tree he had recovered from the Silver Moon elves' ruins. Buds were already growing back, and soday they would yield the legendary fruits that had fed the rise of countless priestesses. But he didn't co to admire it.
Instead, his gaze shifted past the clear pond, the mountains rising behind the forest, to the island girthed by a river of liquid fire. He stepped on blackened soil on which twisted plants that reeked of perfus as enticing as poisoned honey grew, until he halted in front of the island.
The cleaver planted in its center trembled, the sockets of its skull guard igniting with green flas. "The lying piece of shit is back. It's been a while. Can't say I missed your mongrel's face. Let guess. You rembered the palace, how I devoured demonic energy lingering on the bones you claid. And now, you think I can do the sa to cure that pathetically pitiful last survivor of the orcs. However, there is sothing you seem to forget. Mhh. What is it again? I have it at the tip of my tongue. Ah, yes! We fought on opposite sides, you idiot. That trash Grum'Thal was a thorn in Nyxara's side. All I wish for him is to remain alive, watching the civilisation he rebuilt with so much hope collapse, his people enslaved in death, cursing him in rembrance of his deal with the Guardian of Souls."
The river burst into a green wall of flas reaching for the sky.
"Shoo. And take you fairy with you before I cleave her and your soul sea with it."
Adam flipped the cleaver a middle finger, his voice as exasperated as the last ti they spoke. "I wish you had the balls to break our contract. I'm sure watching Haldris catch you will be the most delightful thing I see from my grave." His voice darkened. "If your dear Paimon doesn't obliterate you first for breaching the agreent."
"Lulu," he called out as he closed his eyes. "I need your help with this."
Before he left his soul sea, a voice rang out. It echoed like the crystalline chi of the most exquisite bell. "Wait. I know sothing."
Adam turned sharply. It wasn't Lulu. No, it ca from the Silver Moon tree. She knew sothing? How?
The questions rang in his mind as he rushed to the bark of the tree. Light filtered beneath the small gaps like an echo of the moonlight.
"Lady Mortis... I've never t her." Adam's shoulder sank before her next words made him clench his fist. "I an, not after I gained consciousness. Her na, though, I know it very well. All the priestesses knew about it. They told that she allied with many species humans either hated or despised. The Silver Moon elves were one of them. Rember what you learned in the ruins. Rember who fled it sixty years before your exploration."
Adam's eyes narrowed into focused slits. Images of the dusty, half-destroyed by the Silver Strikers flashed through his eyes. There was a representation of Selene Sunfire, but that bastard was irrelevant.
No, there was sothing else.
Yes! Their duty. The Silver Moon elves had been wardens, and their ruins were once a prison for demons. One endured for fifteen thousand years. Freed by mistake and killed by Lin Yao.
Adam's sky-blue eyes blazed as the scattered dots began to connect into precise shapes. The prison Lady Mortis visited was the bastion of the Silver Moon elves, which ant the cure she had been developing was definitely Decarabia's bones. Understandable since they granted him immunity to demonic corruption after he built his body with it.
Yet, finding out only made him sweat. If the bones were the cure... well... He couldn't remove his own bones, right?
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