When I get off the eagle’s back, my legs feel unexpectedly soft. I am after all one of the strongest Goliaths so it catches me off-guard.

My arms are stiff from holding on for dear life. I am simply glad it’s not everyday we get to ride a giant bird.

I can see the druidess – what’s her name again, oh yes Ephaldi – gently reprimanding Cassil. At least I assume she is as Cassil’s voice rises in a pleading manner. I know this face too. Cassil throws a glaring glance sideways in my direction.

We’ve had words. Probably on the same topic as the ones she is having with the druidess now. It’s not every day either you get to ally with an undead abomination. Is Usk undead? Or something else? Hard for me to tell. I prefer to not dwell on it too much.

Cassil is such an idealist. She means well – maybe I went too far when I told her she was being selfish. But turning Usk’s help down is simply endangering our chances to save the land for the sake of her ideals. I am often right. It can be a problem. She is a good kid, barely 20 – for an half-elf, so very young. I should have been more measured.

Ryden is good at calculating odds, some would say opportunistically so. He was the one who immediately took an uncanny dislike to Usk when he was alive. I confess the man sounded like a bit of a snob. All royal knight, very annoying if your sense of self-worth happens to be a bit shaky. Ryden was also the one who immediately saw our odds improve when Usk returned, growling for revenge from the Prince.

Our poor attempt at bandaging the thing before the ride off the Northern Island did not go unnoticed. I mean he moves wrong, he smells wrong. We should have known better than try and fool the druidess.

We have left behind the strangest land I had yet set foot on. An island where we ran into Stone Giants, a witch of the most horrendous sort – reveling in bones and ice, giant Common-speaking Wolves.

We have left behind a scene of smouldering destruction. A village, silent, lying like a disemboweled corpse from which ashes has risen… what exactly?

We have found traces of incantations to Orcus there. If you don’t know the fellow, he is the Demon Prince of Undeath – lovely guy probably.

The druids are a nice bunch. They did get the message I sent them. I just have to think and focus on the person I want to reach, let my hands draw a well repeated pattern, murmur words that used to mean nothing. They hear me and I hear them back for a very short while, maybe a sentence or so. Enough for them to effectively rescue us. Without a boat, without wings, we were stuck – bound to accept the anticipated destruction of Reusinia.

Now, we can still catch up with the Prince and stop him from doing whatever he is trying to do.

On the way, we stop by the fateful inn where we started. They had no food supplies back then, it’s not getting better.