Brighton illumination.

The very first thing that John noticed was that the Path had changed since their last visit. In many ways it remained the same: birdsong echoed through the maze of trees that surrounded them and a sweet breeze whispered along their branches… yet in others, it was astoundingly different. In place of the roof of green, now leaves of all colors caught the sunlight and cut it into puzzle-piece shapes before it hit the ground. He watched as a jagged red maple leaf fell in a spiral from one branch to join the dozens of others that littered the ground. The vibrant colors of autumn were everywhere.

It wasn’t just their surroundings: the trail they stood on had been altered too; where before it had been linear, now the polished stones beneath their feet led in a dozen directions through the shaded boughs. At least, where they weren’t covered by piles of fallen leaves.

He briefly wondered if Erica could even guide them through the transfigured Path, but his concern faded when she set off with absolute confidence. They took a left around a small, shimmering pond, then a right past a mound of red-capped mushrooms, and right again through a mossy archway that was hidden so well he’d have missed it completely. It led through to a flight of half-covered stone stairs in a tunnel of trees so tight that the only sunlight came from the terminus above. John tried to keep count as they climbed, and climbed, and climbed and climbed. He lost track sometime after forty, but there could’ve been twice that many afterwards.

After an eternity, their tight surroundings opened, and the light that poured through was nearly blinding to his eyes. John covered them as it became too much to endure… and then he was through. His next footstep landed on flat ground, the brilliance dissipating to reveal not the end of a tunnel but an exquisitely kept garden surrounded by a familiar manor home. They’d emerged from the Path directly into the main courtyard of what had to be the Brighton Estate’s grounds.

John glanced at their new surroundings, his attention roaming from a topiary shaped like a lion to a gilded statue of a woman holding a hammer and shield. Her familiar stern expression resembled an older Moira...

“Fancy garden,” he commented sarcastically. “Very modest.”

Erica rolled her eyes, “This is nothing, dude. You should see their indoor one.”

They entered the manor via one of the back hallways and had only just begun down the left side when a voice called out to them, “Good morning, Lady Carpenter, Mr. Newman. May I be of service to either of you today?”

John whirled around in startled surprise to locate the source, which turned out to be the Brighton family’s butler approaching them from behind. He could’ve sworn that it’d been empty a moment ago.

Where the fuck did you come from?

“Sir Reginald,” Erica greeted him with a smile, but John could tell that the butler had caught her off-guard as well; she just hid it better. “We’ve got a lead on the missing persons case that the Lord-Protector should hear about.”

This drew a nod from the stoic-faced man, “Excellent news, I’m sure that Master Brighton would be glad to hear it. Unfortunately, he is currently in London to discuss the surge in activity in eastern Germany. I believe he should return the day after tomorrow.”

“Ok, we’ll tell Moira then,” there was a hint of relief in Erica’s voice.

“Ah. Lady Brighton is...” Reginald cleared his throat and glanced at John, “indisposed for the moment.” Several unspoken details passed between the butler and the berserker, leaving John with the sense he was intruding on a very private matter. Erica gave him an apologetic glance, which he returned with a nod, before stepping away to give the two some privacy.

This isn’t related to what happened in the theater is it? Oh, fuck me...

They spoke too quietly for him to overhear much more than a few words: ‘yesterday’, his name, ‘daemon’, ‘Lorelei’ and ‘Anwyn’ among them, but Erica’s expression spoke volumes. Something was clearly wrong. Frustration showed plainly on her face until it reached a point she could no longer keep quiet.

“You’re kidding me!”

Reginald’s reply was inaudible, but from the stoic look on his face, he wasn’t.

The berserker looked over at John, and he could see conflict in her eyes. For a moment, he wondered if he should run, if he could even make it far enough to Hearth home before either of them caught him and exacted punishment for his ‘blackmailing’. Except, she wasn’t angry. She looked like she was caught between decisions. Whatever it was, he hated to see her so torn and tried to encourage her with a thumbs up and a smile. It seemed to help.

Erica said something to Reginald, receiving a solemn nod in return, before walking over to John. She still seemed a bit uncomfortable, and her hesitancy slightly worried him.

“Hey, uh, I’m not in trouble, am I?” John asked.

The berserker blinked, “No? I don’t think so. Not unless you’ve been summoning demons.” She gave him a dramatically stern look, “Have you been summoning demons, dude?”

“Demons? Those are real? I mean, of course they are, but… wait what?”

Erica rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine.” She turned back to Reginald, “See? Told you, no demons.”

“Duly noted,” the butler replied in his dry tone.

John wasn’t sure if they were joking or serious, but Erica didn’t give him time to figure it out. “Look… I need to go report to Moira about all this, can you talk to Lorelei while I do that? I’ll be done before you know it. Promise,” her words were heavy with the subtle reminder of the pressure of time they were both under.

So, that’s what she was worried about. It’s probably better if I’m not involved in that anyway…

“Yeah, sure. No problem. Someone’s gotta do it, right?”

Something about his choice of words struck a nerve and Erica let out a long sigh, “Yeah. Someone’s got to.” Clearly, she wasn’t any more enthusiastic about meeting with the paladin than he was.

John held up a fist, and Erica bumped hers against it, “See you soon?” he asked.

“See you soon,” she replied.

Erica set off to give her report, leaving John alone with the butler. Reginald had politely reciprocated the privacy that John had shown earlier, but now, in Erica’s absence, the trim man approached John. “If you’d follow me, Mr. Newman, I would be happy to show you to Lady Varnik’s quarters.”

Who?

The butler clearly read John’s confused expression, “Lady Lorelei Varnik, Seer of our Order? Lady Carpenter requested I take you to speak with her.”

Oh!

John’s brain compiled the new information, and he nodded at the butler. A proper seer was just the kind of person he needed to talk to, provided their visions were more reliable than the ones shared by Planning. Speaking of which… the unreliable piece of garbage hadn’t triggered since it had leveled up the night before. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Reginald led him through to the foyer, emerging underneath the right side of the grand stairwell. They took a sharp left without entering the main hall and instead passed through a hallway underneath the landing. At the end was a door made entirely of glass, which opened onto a room that made John’s jaw drop.

It was a circular conservatory at least three stories tall and twice as wide, with every wall being made completely out of glass. A single huge tree grew in the center of concentric rings of flowers, its branches caressing the top of the dome. Each massive branch was laden with thick green foliage, but John spotted glittering objects amidst them. Almost equally distracting was the view through the walls: a pure blue sky with fluffy, drifting clouds and endless fields of golden grass stretching out in all directions… including the one he’d come from. John could still see the hallway he’d entered through, but only through the open doorway.

Wow… This must be the place that Erica mentioned.

“Quite a sight, is it not?” Reginald asked from a few feet away, where he stood patiently awaiting the stunned gamer.

John replied with a silent nod and quickly caught up to the butler. They walked around the right side of the greenhouse, along an outer ring of violets and white roses, passing by another glass door identical to the one they’d entered through and a stone path leading inwards to the next row of flowers. John glanced through the doorway; it led to a room with a dark wood table set with fancy dinnerware. Predictably, the utensils were made of gold.

They passed by two more doors and into the shadow of the great tree before Reginald stopped at another of the glass portals. This one led to a hallway, but one very different from those of the northern wing. Purple wallpaper coated the tight, almost cramped walls, which were unadorned with statuary or paintings. A single oak door terminated the short passageway.

“Lady Varnik’s quarters,” the butler said, stepping aside to let John enter the claustrophobic stretch.

John passed him and through the open doorway, the air instantly changing texture. The garden had smelled like flowers and spring; instead, he could taste the slight bitterness of incense as he knocked at the door to the seer’s room. He waited for long enough that he’d raised his hand to knock again when the door opened.

On the other side was a tall woman with skin so pale it almost glowed, wearing a dark grey dress that looked straight out of medieval times. The Order’s ever-present gilding decorated her chest and emphasized the hint of curves underneath, obscured further by a long shawl that draped over her shoulders and trailed down almost to her feet. Her arms were as conservatively covered as the rest of her body by lacy sleeves that resembled a pair of long, fingerless gloves.

It was hard to concentrate on anything but her face, however. The seer’s eyes were obscured by a mask of silvered metal, elaborately shaped to resemble a crown and inlaid with a white gemstone, perhaps an opal, in the center. Her pale blonde hair messily cascaded down over her cheeks and down her back, where it had been gathered in a thick braid. She wore no makeup, and her hair was fraying at the ends; it was clear that her personal appearance was of little consideration.

Lorelei Varnik
<Seer of the Order>
Level 12 Oracle
Relationship: +3
[Baronetess]

“John Newman, please, come in,” Lorelei’s voice was quiet, but not for a lack of confidence. She addressed him as though she’d been expecting his arrival… which, considering her profession, was likely.

He nodded, a gesture that elicited no reaction from the woman who stepped aside to welcome him into her quarters. The room was as spartan as her appearance, devoid of both luxuries and space. On one side, her bed took up most of the room, half-obscured by a curtain, while the other had a dresser and table with three chairs. A bowl of incense sat on the dresser, wafting thin trickles of smoke upwards. Unusually, the room had no windows and was lit only by the glow of a lamp that hung from the ceiling.

At a gesture from Lorelei, John took a seat across the small table from her. “Mr. Newman,” she began but hesitated before continuing, “no, John. This morning I foresaw this visit, but my divination only showed me your arrival. Now, I see a shadow upon your soul and must know: what is the fear that grips you so tightly?”

Nervously, he began to recount what he’d told Erica about the morning’s events, trying not to stress as he laid out the threats hanging over his head. He decided to omit the stolen memory card this time, it wasn’t essential to relive those painful memories again.

Lorelei folded her hands on the table, “What you are bearing is a heavy burden. The Scarlet Witch is powerful, too powerful for the Order to justify warring with over a single mage. I’m sorry, John, but we cannot risk our mission for you alone.”

“Wait, what? But Erica said you had to, because of the contract!” John pleaded in desperation. Without the Order backing him, his chances of finding Vanessa in time were plummeting faster than a flightless bird… The mental image of an emu falling several hundred feet was amusing, until the point it hit the ground. That bit brought all the anxiety back.

“However,” the seer continued, “an innocent has been put at risk, and regardless of her association with the Witch, it is our duty to aid them. In the name of the Lady, I will aid you as best I can.”

Lorelei reached up and slid her mask up to reveal her eyes, revealing irises that gleamed a mixture of silver and gold. Her unfocused gaze swept over him as though he wasn’t there and looked down at her upturned hands. Between them, a glowing ember appeared, burning brighter and brighter until it blazed as a miniature sun. It was too bright to look directly into, but while John covered his eyes, Lorelei looked into it without hesitation.

“Tell me of the one you seek, so I may find her in the Lady’s Sight,” the seer intoned, her voice echoing with a second, different inflection.

John swallowed, “Her name is Vanessa Hawthorne, she’s 19 years old, I think. She’s a student at Ashcroft Academy. She’s on the cheerleading team, and nicknamed the Bitch Queen, but nobody calls her that to her face.”

The flame flickered crimson, illuminating the seer’s face with red light, “I see her influence like a scar within you, John. The pain you felt… that you still feel… share it with me.”

“She’s horrible,” John shuddered, and his eyes burned, “a bully and a selfish… arrogant… monster. She’s taken every opportunity to make my life hell for no reason at all, just for fun.” He himself to say it, “She had someone . Because of me, I think.”

Cradled in Lorelei’s hands, the fire burned even brighter, raging like an uncontained furnace, then it calmed and returned to its original color. She looked up from it to John, eyes seeing past him, yet focused on something.

Wait, is she… blind?

John waved a hand in front of the seer’s face, but she didn’t react to it at all. Instead, she spoke with solemnity, “I fear that we are too late… she is beyond the Lady’s Sight now.”

“You mean Vanessa’s dead?” he asked; his questions about her eyesight were superseded by a more important revelation. It was strange, he should feel horrified, but all that John felt was a sense of genuine relief. The monster that had plagued him for so long was gone.

Lorelei’s response seemed unexpected even to her, “I do not know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I cannot find her on this or any world the Lady’s eyes are upon, yet I cannot find the fading sparks of her soul either. Your ‘Vanessa’ is simply missing,” the seer’s voice wavered. “I do not understand this...”

John stared at the seer, hopelessness creeping closer to his heart. What was he going to tell Mrs. Wentworth? That he’d asked a magical, blind woman who had said that Vanessa was gone? That wasn’t going to work.

“Can you tell me anything else? Anything at all, please. I have to find her…” he pleaded.

...or what’s left of her.

His discomfort had clearly infected Lorelei, whose gaze had returned to the fire swirling within the cage of her fingers. “Perhaps... if you brought me an article of hers, something precious, something linked to her soul, then I could use it to focus the Lady’s Sight. If she can still be found, that is how I can best aid you.”

Something linked to her soul? Where the hell am I supposed to get that, her locker?

“Hold, seeker.” Lorelei stared back down at the fire as it swirled between her fingers. Golden sparks flickered off the surface, and pure, white light shone through the gaps between her fingers. “I see…”

The seer’s voice changed, the echo overtaking her natural cadence, “I see her; at the seventh of seven sins, accompanied by a shadow that walks in the guise of man. Follow their footsteps to where the ground hungers and the light cannot reach.” She looked up and met John’s startled gaze with perfect accuracy, “Beware, John, for the deep hides far worse than teeth.”

With a flash, the fire between her fingertips went out, and the seer raised her trembling fingers to cover her eyes once more with the mask. Her voice returned to the quiet, almost lovely tone when she spoke again, “Her Sight shows me nothing more; I can only pray that the guidance I have given will illuminate your path…”

Yeah. Me too.

Quest objective updated!