Mindstorm

The bridge creaked underfoot as we advanced, step by step across the divide. The ruined keep loomed ahead, its crude battlements shadowed against the late morning sun. Goblin voices rose in crude songs from beyond the gate, and I could already catch the stench of burnt meat and spilled ale. We were almost there.

Then it hit.

A wave of pressure slammed into my skull, forcing my knees to buckle. My breath caught in my throat as the world twisted. Around me, the others cried out—Karlach cursed, Shadowheart gasped, Lae’zel hissed as we were all pulled to the ground like puppets under a cruel hand. The pressure wasn't physical. It was inside. Crawling, pulling, gnawing. A mind—no, many minds—pressing against ours.

Then, like a beacon, something flashed.

Shadowheart's relic—her mysterious prism—tumbled from her belt and floated mid-air, spinning slowly before flaring with violet light. The pressure lessened instantly. The **** of the psychic storm slipped off, like rain off a window. We were still on the ground, but breathing again.

In the haze behind my eyes, I saw them.

Three silhouettes in the storm. Hulking. Distant. Yet unmistakably familiar.

Ketheric Thorm. Gortash. Orin.

I knew them, though none of the others had names for what they were yet. The architects of this whole twisted farce. We'd face them, eventually. Each one more dangerous than the last. I'd have to plan, to maneuver, to seduce or shatter—whatever it took. And after them? What then? Would I go home? Could I?

I didn't want to think about it. All in due time.

The pressure broke like a wave retreating from shore. The relic spun once more and then zipped back to Shadowheart’s side, hiding in her bag as if nothing had happened.

We all stared at her.

Lae’zel was the first to break the silence.

"That was Githyanki craftsmanship," she said sharply, stepping forward. "Where did you get that? Why do you have it?"

Shadowheart scrambled to her feet, hand protectively over her bag. "That’s none of your business."

"It is when you carry stolen relics of my people."

I raised a hand. "Enough. Whatever it is, it just saved all of our minds."

I looked to Shadowheart, voice steady. "Keep it close."

She held my gaze and answered almost in spite, "I will."

Lae’zel’s glare lingered, but she didn’t press further.

Karlach let out a long breath and made a mock-catty mewl. "Well. That was exciting."

I shook the tension from my shoulders. "If that’s our welcoming party, I’m starting to miss the sheep at Aunties swamp."

That got a smirk from Shadowheart, and a chuckle from Karlach.

We crossed the final stretch of bridge and stopped just outside the open gate. Inside the courtyard, goblins danced, brawled, and drank to the off-tempo rhythm of bone drums, shamanic flutes and ...abstract poetry? The scent of smoke and blood lingered under the sharp stink of unwashed bodies.

I squared my shoulders, brushing dust from my armor.

Time to mingle.