“Shissa! May I borrow Erethiel? Don't worry, I’ll bring him back, I promise,” Amos says as he throws her a wink. Varrick looks up sharply at Amos, a questioning look on his face.

I’m unsure as to what Amos’ intentions are as well, until the distinct vertigo of teleportation magic suddenly grips my senses, the pressure of Amos’ hand at my elbow the one constant.

The sensation fades as reality settles. The world clears up into view before us in a raucous array of lights and sounds, distant voices lifting into laughter and glee in the warm night.

Ahh. I feel my face redden as I recognize our surroundings—the front steps of the Temple of Calistria in Daggermark. The temple has been an unexpected touchstone, a witness to different recent chapters of myself, a waypoint marking the changes wrought upon body and mind as our adventures scrape and mold us by the inevitable forces of conflict.

My first visit was a mere half turn ago, as a young elf freshly set out from Kyonin and eager for experiences. My most recent was to bring a mutilated, deeply damaged yet resolute Shissa here to the high priestess for restoration as a first step in the nymph’s long journey of recovery.

A voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Come along, Ere! We don’t have all night,” Amos declares as he pulls me towards the open door. The sounds inside get noticeably louder as we draw close.

Amos stops at the threshold and turns to me.

“Or actually,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he gives me a mischievous, appraising look, “I think we do.”

I let out a long sigh, and find myself smiling back.