Sacred Scheme

After we left the tieflings to their drills and rickety spears, I led my companions deeper into the Grove, away from the noise. The air grew cooler, the torches dimmer, until the sanctum swallowed us whole. Living wood curved into walls around us, damp with age and fungi. Sunrays glistened above through cracks in the stone, its surface carved and worn, the roots around it knotted like veins beneath skin. Kagha stood waiting at the center, her viper coiled neatly at her boots. Calm. To the unknowing druids who stood at a polite distance, this meeting looked like council between equals. But Kagha’s eyes betrayed her. They latched onto me with a fevered attention that no veneer of authority could hide.

“Two days,” she declared with **** authority. “The Rite will not be finished before the goblins reach our walls.” She let her words echo for those listening, then lowered her chin slightly, speaking in a lower voice. “We’ll need another answer.”

I took a step closer to Kagha, bowing my head in a way that could be read as respect by onlookers but felt more like command. My words slipped quiet, meant only for her. “Then we’ll hold another kind of ceremony. Not the Rite you’ve struggled to finish—something else. A rite to secure your voice above the Circle’s. The Bloom.” I hammed it up for her, scratching that scheme-ster itch.

Her eyes narrowed, the faintest smile curving her lips. “And this Bloom..” she asked, curious yet eager, “would make certain the Grove bows as one?”

“Bows as one, fights as one—and even breathes as one,” I drawled theatrically.

Her eyes glimmered with a manic brightness. “Yes. I see it now.” She drew a breath, then flicked her hand, sending her most of her attendants scurrying from the chamber.

When the echoes faded, I leaned in, my tone dropping to something intimate. “Tomorrow.”

Her laugh slipped out—short, sharp, giddy before she smothered it. She leaned closer, eyes wide with intent. “You tempt me with the very thing I’ve dreamed of, and still you make me wait one more night.”

“It’s only one night. If you can’t wait, you can always drop by our camp.”

She blinked for a second, unsure of what to make of my offer, yet her lips curled into a smile.

“Tomorrow, in the grotto beneath the idol. Old stone, sacred water. I will meet you there. Alone." Her eyes swept over my companions, scanning them for dissent.

Shadowheart’s lips curved, her eyes lingering on me in a way that looked casual to outsiders but carried a secret weight. “Fine by me. He's been through worse.”

[Shadowheart: Approval +1]

Karlach gave a low chuckle, glancing my way. “He's a big boy, he can handle himself.”

[Karlach: Approval +1]

Lae’zel inclined her head, sharp and sure. “It is decided."

[Lae’zel: Approval +1]

Finding no disagreements, Kagha returned her focus to me, awaiting my response.

“Actually,” I said, “I will bring a friend. One that is necessary for what we intend.”

Kagha’s expression flickered—disappointment, almost a pout—before she **** her tone steady. “So be it.”

Her voice rising again so any druids lingering nearby would hear her last words. “This is for the survival of the Grove. If it dies, we all die.”

I mirrored her. “Then tomorrow, the Grove survives.”

Any druids listening in would be satisfied that their acting archdruid had secured support. None of them, however, saw how her gaze lingered on me—hungry, starved, devoted—as though I were the one she truly worshipped. None of them realized how close she stood, or how her viper mirrored her, swaying toward me as though enthralled by the same pull.

I turned from her at last, letting the moment end before it drew suspicion. But I felt her stare cling to me long after we’d stepped out of the sanctum. Tomorrow the Grove would never be the same.