"They what!" demanded Noel.

"They left a couple of days ago," said Claire calmly. "I thought you had told them that you didn't wish to join them."

"I never told them any such thing!" said Noel. "Don't you think that if I had I would've sought them out and told them?"

"They received a note, signed by you, saying that you didn't want to tag along anymore," said Claire.

"Let me see this note!" demanded Noel, significantly angry now.

"Oh, I can't do that," said Claire in surprise. "I expect they threw it out, or took it with them. Nothing is stopping you from joining them, you know. They just have a decent head start on you."

"I've got to go after them then," she said. "Eric," she said apologetically, turning to the paladin next to her, "I'm sorry, but they might need my help."

"I understand," said Eric, pulling her close into a hug. "I'll help you get ready, and get you a wagon. I have to stay here though, otherwise I would be coming with you, I promise."

"Thank you, Eric," she said, relieved. She turned back to Claire. "I'll leave as soon as I'm ready."

"And I'll see you as soon as you have Carver," said Claire. "Unless, of course, you get sidetracked. Again."

The group had been unusually silent in the few days since they had encountered Samuel. Jean only seemed to be focused on the task at hand and moving as far as they could per day. Isarda was silently grieving for Balder, his absence excruciatingly noticeable. She was trying to convince herself that he wasn't dead, but even if that were true, him being kidnapped by Samuel was hardly more comforting. Lily was still fuming, old feelings she had long since buried dragged back up again with the reappearance of the man she hated the most, burning her from the inside. Her fears of slowing down the others only increased, as now she was limping from the injury Samuel had inflicted, but she refused to let Isarda patch her up or show any sign of pain. She also refused to admit to herself that he probably wouldn't have shot her at all if she hadn't shot at him in cold blood.

"That's it," announced Jean, breaking the silence that had lasted several hours that evening.

They were on the edge of the Snakewood, looking at a homely looking little cottage nestled a little ways into the trees.

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" asked Lily.

"We're staying the night in that house," Jean declared. "I have an errand I have to run in that house, and then we'll move on to get that damnable dragonkin."

Lily made a noncommittal noise and Isarda said nothing. Jean didn't look to see if they were following him as he led the way into the small house.

The house had the air of a once quaint little home that had been neglected and little used in many years. A thick layer of dust covered everything, making small puffs where they stepped. Lily went over to the fireplace and started examining the trinkets on the mantelpiece. Isarda stood in a corner, looking as if she did not care much what she did.

"You two just wait right here while I do something," said Jean. "Then I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. Don't touch anything, Lily."

"Trust me, Jean, stealing your precious family portraits is the last thing on my mind considering the circumstances," said Lily sincerely and somewhat indignantly.

Jean turned away from her without replying and stormed up the stairs, scattering more dust and dirt as he went. Isarda's eyes followed him up the stairs and she shifted restlessly. After what seemed like a long pause, she said, "I'm going to have a look upstairs, okay?"

"Alright, have fun," said Lily distractedly, not turning around to look at her, still examining the sitting room.

Isarda waiting a few moments to see if she would say anything else, and then turned and started up the stairs. There was a trail of disrupted dust that showed that Jean had gone up to the attic, but Isarda turned the other way and moved to check out the bedrooms. She got a shock as she looked into the master bedroom at the very end of the hall.

"What are you doing here?" spat Isarda.

"Hoping to talk to you away from the others," said Samuel calmly. He still didn't have his accent, but he wasn't covered in burns as he had been when they had encountered him a few days ago. He appeared to have no weapons on his person.

"And why did you want to talk to me?" growled Isarda, seriously considering hitting him with a well placed lightning bolt.

"I wanted to negotiate," said Samuel. "Nothing wrong with that, is there? I assume you're worried sick about your husband."

"What have you done with Balder?" Isarda snarled viciously. Samuel actually flinched at the rage in her voice, quickly regaining his composure.

"Why don't I just show you?" he said, waving his hand in front of the window.

The window had been showing a view of the woods on the other side of the dusty curtains. It changed instead to show a stone, windowless room, lit with torches. Isarda clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her scream.

Balder lay chained to a table in the center of the room. Parts of his flesh had been carved away, revealing the muscle underneath. Great wounds covered his body. He had clearly been tortured through the majority of the days he had been missing. He appeared to be unconscious, his ragged breathing the only thing betraying the fact that he was still alive.

"What have you done to him?" Isarda whimpered.

"I will be willing to give him back," said Samuel, ignoring her question, "if you will fetch something for me first."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Hoolron Vishnir," said Samuel. Seeing her look of confusion, he added, "That mask your friend Jean wears at all times. Get it from him, and bring it back here, and you can have your husband back."

Isarda looked at him in resignation, backing slowly out of the room. She took a fortifying glance at Balder through the window.

"Wait there," she said fearfully, running from the room.

Jean looked around the dark and spidery attic, finding what he was looking for almost immediately amidst the old, musty furniture and chests. He pulled the small, sky blue box from the top of one of the chests and opened it. An amulet lay inside. It had eyes.

"It's about time, I was thinking you had forgotten the way," said his mother's voice. The eyes on the amulet narrows slightly.

"Mom?" said Jean, taking out the amulet.

"Yes, honey, it's me," she said. "Mommy's a lich, sweetie. I really thought you had figured that out."

"I never really cared enough to try," he said, slipping her phylactery around his neck. "So why did you stay with dad all those years if you were a lich."

The eyes on the phylactery rolled. "I love your father," she said. "It's part of the reason I haven't killed him. But I have stayed there long enough, and it's time for me to move on. But I needed you to get me out of the cursed box. Now I can form myself a new body." She fell abruptly silent and her eyes darted to the staircase. "Someone's coming."

Jean didn't even have time to react before he heard Isarda shout the spell. He suddenly found himself in a space much too small for him, bending him over and completely preventing him from moving an inch.

"Isarda!" he snarled. "What are you playing at?"

Isarda didn't say a word. She walked purposefully up to Jean's dog-kennel-sized prison and looked down at him, her eyes oddly blank. She reached down and took the mask from his face. Without a word, she turned and walked back down the stairs, ignoring Jean's livid shouting after her.

"I've got it," said Isarda flatly, handing the mask to Samuel. "Now give me Balder back."

"Yes, yes, you can have your husband back," said Samuel, tearing his gaze away from the mask and looking at her. "However, I never told you when. Thanks for Hoolron Vishnir."

Samuel swept past her and was in the doorframe when Isarda recovered from her shock. With a scream of rage, a fireball hit Samuel in the back, knocking him forward to land on his stomach at the top of the stairs.

"Oh, you bitch," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and checking for blood. Isarda advanced on him, lightning crackling in her palms. Before she could strike at him, however, Samuel grabbed her arm and flipped her down the stairs.

Halfway down, Isarda stopped and lay on her back. Samuel stood over her, black magic forming in his hand. Isarda thrust her hand upwards, a lightning bolt shooting from her palm. It hit Samuel in the chest, forcing him into the air. There was a crack as the roof broke, and Samuel vanished before she could strike at him again.

Lily appeared at the bottom of the stairs, drawn by the noise. She looked in confusion as Isarda picked herself up.

"What…happened…?" she asked slowly, her eyes moving up to the gaping hole in the roof.

"Isarda!" came a furious shout. They both turned to see Jean storming down the stairs, clearly broken free of the prison spell. "What the hell do you think you've done?"

As he yelled at her, they noticed that he seemed a bit reluctant to open his mouth. When he did, his teeth seemed more pointed and jagged than they should be. Isarda backed away from him as he advanced upon her, until they had both gotten off of the stairs and were in the living room.

"I'm sorry," said Isarda flatly and without any real emotion. "I did what I thought I had to do."

"Am I missing something?" asked Lily.

"Why, yes, you are."

Everyone turned towards the new voice to see a man sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

"What are you doing in my house?" demanded Jean furiously.

"Calm down," said the man. "You know me. My name is Cas."

"We know you?" asked Lily. "From where?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you, love," said Cas.

"Why are you here?" demanded Jean.

"Relax, I'm just here to deliver a message," said Cas. "You're after the dragonkin, right? Well, I'm here to tell you that you can now find said dragonkin at Baldur's Gate."

"What?" asked Lily. "But he was at the Sunset Mountains."

Cas shrugged. "He moved."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jean spat.

Cas laughed shortly. "I suppose you can't, if you can't even trust each other."

"What are you talking about?" asked Isarda. "We…we trust each other…"

"Really?" said Cas, raising an eyebrow. "You certainly keep a lot of secrets from each other if you trust each other so much."

"What would you know about that?" spat Jean.

Cas looked at him. "Quite a bit, actually. Have you told these ladies about your dark little minions that answer to your beck and call? Your succubus? Your dark paladin? Your lich?"

He turned away from Jean's furious face and looked at Lily. "And you. Have you told them that you're seeing and hearing him all over town? Have you told them that you're going insane over events long since past?"

Lily backed rapidly away, her horrified eyes never leaving Cas'. Her fist was held loosely over her heart again as she stood on the other side of the room, gaping at Cas past the fingers of her other hand, covering her mouth. Isarda was giving her a deeply sympathetic look. She looked back at Cas when he addressed her, confused. She was sure she had no secrets to hide.

"And you," he said. "You charge into battle and take unnecessary risks, with no regard at all for the life growing inside you." He laughed and vanished.

Isarda stared, shocked, at the place where he had vanished. Her gaze slid down to her stomach and she visibly paled.

It was Lily who uncertainly broke the stunned, ringing silence.

"…Congratulations?"

It is 8:13 pm on Wednesday night. Tomorrow half our party has school. I'm online. Jean made his glorious appearance in the sky a little over an hour ago. Where the fuck is our DM and Isarda! I have one more chapter before I catch up to the campaign and I've got 42 and a half things I want Lily to say. Come on, guys, it's been two months.

Now that everything I wanted to say, but couldn't say on Skype because of Spencer accusing me of being obsessed (again), has been said, yes, Isarda is pregnant. A few weeks along. Lily is nuts and Jean has an army. All our secrets are out in the open. And Samuel now appears to be a mage.

Susan: I can't believe I fell for that.
Me: Did you notice how I typed in the chat while you were talking "Don't give it to him until he gives you Balder back"?
Susan: I probably would've figured that out myself or read the chat if it wasn't three in the morning.

Chris: "My name is Cas."
Spencer: Cas, like Cassiopeia?
Chris: Cas as in I'm gonna castrate you if you make that joke again.

Fucking fuck, guys. Get online. I miss you. Nothing to do with the fact that I am sick of disappointment every goddamn Wednesday.