The wind howled — a swirling storm of screaming silver and white — piling snow against anything that dared stand in its way and blinding the world with ice-white dust.

My excitement and relief at finally, finally being out of the Underdark; with nothing but the sky above me, lasted for all of a second.

Now, I trudged through the fresh snow, back bent against the freezing cold as I attempted to protect my eyes with my arm. Valen walked ahead and I did my best to retrace his steps, using his much larger body as a wind-block.

Pillars, buildings, the occasional wandering humanoid shape; they all loomed in my vision for never more than a moment before vanishing, swallowed in white. As we walked, the time between each fuzzy glimpse of something became shorter, until — if I squinted enough against the eye-watering winds — I could see the towering heights of the buildings that made up the City of Lost Souls.

The city looked like an unfinished painting; so much of the canvas still perfectly white, as if waiting for the artist's hand to return.

Then again, the artist's hands had probably fallen off from frostbite, I thought bitterly. I sucked in a sharp breath of bitter laughter, immediately regretting it as my teeth stung from the cold. I snapped my mouth shut, lips cracking and splitting.

Since leaving the Reaper's gate house, we'd been walking for no more than ten minutes; Deekin stumbling through the deep snow by my side with awkward little hops whilst Valen marched silently ahead, tail flicking irritably. He was little more than a crude outline, at risk of being erased by the storm if I let the distance reach more than a few feet.

The tiefling swung his head from left to right as we walked, shoulders tense and hand always on his flail's hilt. Occasionally he would freeze — attention snapping in an impossibly white direction — his nostrils flaring and his body coiled and ready. But each time nothing came of it — no monstrous devils charging out of the whiteness and no sounds could be heard over the insistent howling of the wind. The tense seconds would tick by before the weather forced us to continue our march deeper into the frozen city.

The only saving grace was that this was — apparently — poorer weather than usual for the city, if I'd heard Valen's faint shouted words correctly, upon arrival. So, nothing else possible in this blinding storm, we sought temporary shelter from the blizzard; the promise of food, warmth and information spurring us on.

I suspected it wasn't just pure luck that found us at the Hellbreath Tavern, Valen seeming altogether unsurprised when we found it.

I started at the sight of three men lingering at the edges of our vision, not far from the tavern's door; as white as the snow and seemingly uncaring of the raging storm.

No, I realised as I squinted their way. Not white; transparent.

Ghosts; the Lost Souls after which this city was named.

They didn't pay any attention to the passing tiefling — who in kind ignored them — it was Deekin and myself that drew their surprised eyes. They talked amongst themselves, their words carrying away from us on the wind as we pushed towards the tavern.

The building in question was squat and angular, seeming to burrow into the soft ground, away from the raging storm. The tavern's door was impossibly clear of snow, and it didn't take me long to realise why. I rubbed a shoulder against it as I squeezed past Valen, realising with a start that it was warm to the touch.

And so was Valen. The last part I realised with a blush, warmth radiating from him in our moment of closeness. A blush warmed my cheeks, followed by plain old jealousy that he could be so warm whilst I was so damn cold.

The door slammed shut behind us and I suddenly remembered what experiencing sounds —not just the white noise of screaming winds — felt like. It surprised me to discover that the Hellbreath Tavern sounded just like any other pub. Idle chatter, cut through by the occasional shout or holler and the scraping of stools, wound its way up to us. Over the top of it all, was the repetitive beating of a drum.

"Ahh," Deekin hummed in contentment, voice chattering. "It be much warmer in here. Deekin grateful for small things, you know."

I found myself agreeing.

We wound our way down a spiralling flight of stairs, passing noone — nobody being stupid enough to brave the raging storm outside. Other than us, that was.

As we descended, it became infinitely warmer, the frost that had found its way inside my cloak melting and feeling finally returning to my icy cold face. I was rubbing feeling back into my hands and blowing warm air into my gloves, when the stairs finally widened and candlelight streamed in.

I didn't notice that Valen had frozen on the spot.

I stumbled straight into his back with a surprised oof, bouncing off of him with a frown. He didn't seem to care, staring out at the room that greeted us, his back ramrod straight. I squeezed around him to get a look at the tavern.

Some faces lazily turned to identify us, but most kept their eyes downturned and firmly on their drinks. It was a mismatch of races that greeted us, and as much as I'd been preparing myself for it, the sight still took me a moment to accept.

On a table not too far from us, two tieflings — with varying devilish qualities — played a silent game of cards, smirks on their lean faces.

Slaadi workers huddled in the far corner, nursing drinks in their grey webbed hands and staring vacantly at nothing.

Only a few feet from them, two red imps — perched atop the backs of their own chairs — chattered in hissed words I didn't understand, leathery wings flapping irritably as they eyed off the lighter coloured imp playing a drum in the rafters above.

The bulk of the patrons consisted of green skinned Githzerai, greying from the lack of sun provided by Cania.

My eyes roamed over two women that could only be Erinyes; the impossibly tall devil's beautiful in a way that screamed danger. Their matching red hair rivalled Valen's own in vibrancy, stark against their feathered black wings and grey tinted expanses of skin. Their bottomless black eyes considered us thoughtfully, lips curved up in sinister red smiles. Their eyes roamed over me lazily, before landing on Valen, narrowing in suspicion.

"Ummm…" Deekin began, peeking out from between us. "Those ladies look a little cold, Boss."

I snorted, pushing the kobold back as he tried to squeeze past us to get a better look at the room. I kept a hand on his shoulder to keep him from simply charging ahead to investigate on his own.

"They're devils, Deekin," I hissed quietly. "I don't think they get as cold as we do." I glanced at Valen for confirmation, who'd seemed largely unaffected by the blizzard's cold wrath.

Hand still on the disappointed bard's shoulder, I gave Valen a gentle nudge. The tiefling jolted slightly, looking down at me with a surprised frown, as if only just now realising I was there. For the barest of moments, annoyance flashed across his features, causing me to pull back slightly in surprise. But then he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a careful blankness. Frowning, he looked away and back out at the tavern, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply.

"My demon's blood will make me even less welcome here than you," he warned me gruffly, teeth clenched.

I considered the side of his stern face for a moment, before attempting a smile. "Good thing we're not here to make friends," I said through a careful smile.

Straightening my back, I pushed past him, making for the bar.

Glancing back, I noted Deekin following close on my heels and Valen as he stomped after us, hand still very much on his weapon as his eyes darted all around.

I faltered between one step and the next in sudden surprise.

The bar was served by a massive black and blue dragon, his long scaled tail running along the bartop as it flicked empty glasses towards a hurried imp. The imp hissed, swooping in and collected them in clawed hands. Sighing in relief, it flapped its wings, hurrying away to wash them.

I swallowed.

I'd almost forgotten about that part.

"A dragon!" Deekin gasped in excitement, grabbing my hand to make sure I'd seen the giant hulking creature. As if anyone could miss it!

He was definitely the strangest tavern keeper I had ever seen. But, then again, this was definitely the strangest tavern I'd ever been in.

Only in the outer planes…

Approaching the bar, I felt — well, unnerved would be an understatement — but I felt overall put out beneath the dragon's malevolent gaze.

"Deekin told you they can be friendly," the kobold exclaimed.

The dragon's level of friendliness was yet to be seen.

"Can I get you something?" The dragon growled irritably, the corners of its mighty maw curling up in what looked to be an angry sneer.

I breathed through the fear. "Do you have something to help us defrost?" I asked, rubbing my hands again.

The tavern keeper smiled the toothy smile of a true businessman, and I shied away from the large stained fangs. "I brew a fine Velox Berry Firewater, but supply doesn't keep up with the demand around here." He hummed. "You'll earn yourself a pint for every five berries."

I felt a hollow pang of disappointment, before asking after rooms. "Room," Valen corrected me, eyes still roaming around the tavern's barroom, and still very much on edge.

The dragon's warm breath smelt like a rotting carcass as he grinned toothily at the jumpy tiefling.

So we paid for a single room for the reminder of the day and night, before thanking the dragon awkwardly and taking our leave.

Key in hand — placed there by the hurried imp from earlier — we pushed our way through the room, Valen keeping a very intentional distance from everyone, my giant hulking shadow. As we walked I took in the vents that lined the stone walls in appreciation, steam curling out from whatever depths they attached to.

The room was connected to a slightly smaller chamber, with a scattering of benches set up beside long tables. Within the room was a thinner scattering of the same mix of patrons, with the addition of a handful of ghosts.

We didn't linger, making towards the only hallway, Valen silent and Deekin busy taking in the surroundings.

Walking down the hall, I matched the symbol embossed on the metal key with its counterpart, carved in the middle of a thick wooden door about halfway down. The sounds of the bar were distant, but every crash of furniture and every clink of glass set Valen's teeth of edge, the muscles in his clenched jaw popping.

We made our way inside the small room, Valen slamming the door shut with a sigh of relief

As soon as it was shut, he locking it, resting his back against it.

The room was sparse; floors, walls and roof all made of the same plain brown stone; bare of decoration, bar the wall-mounted candelabras. In the middle of the room was a lone double bed, rickety and wooden framed. It barely looked big enough for two humans, and I worried my lip as I considered what our sleeping arrangements where supposed to be.

But — most importantly of all — the small roam was toasty; thanks to another of the metal grates in the floor, glowing with heat.

I sighed, shucking off my cloak and laying it flat on the bed to dry. Shaking out my arms I threw my soggy gloves down onto the bed as well, before settling down next to them, grimacing to find the mattress lumpy and hard.

Deekin dropped his satchel to the floor, bending down to try and peer through the grate with an inquisitive tilt to his head. Both his and my book were already grasped firmly in his claws, an inkwell and pen balanced dangerously on top.

The silence stretched between us as we all took a moment to appreciate the warm reprieve.

As was becoming the trend, Deekin interrupted it.

"Deekin going to go ask around tavern about city," he told the grate, before peering up at me.

I frowned, opening my mouth to object before he silenced me with a hiss and a scowl.

"Deekin been without Boss for long time," he tutted. "Can go a few hours without anything bad happening."

He rolled his eyes at the tiefling, but the man in question obviously wasn't listening.

Valen's eyes were shut and he was completely rigid, still leaning heavily against the door.

"Fine, Deekin," I sighed in defeat. "Just take a weapon. And be careful."

He looked at me with a raised brow. "Pen be mightier than sword, Boss," he objected.

I raised my eyebrows right back at him before he sighed dramatically.

Defeated, he reshuffled, shoving a dagger from my satchel into his waistband, before lifting his belongings once more with a look that screamed 'now are you happy?'

At my hesitant nod, he beamed at me before hurrying to the door.

I briefly considered going with him — but then I remembered the hungry stares of the Erinyes and the slack-faced group of slaadi — and immediately thought better of it.

Deekin was a grown arse kobold, he knew what he was doing…

Valen opened his clouded eyes at the expectant kobold's approach. They considered each other silently, before the tiefling took a deep breath in annoyance. He silently moved out of the excited bard's way.

A quick 'see ya,' and Deekin was gone, door slamming behind him.

Leaving just Valen and myself, waiting out the blizzard.

The tiefling seemed at a loss as to what to do, eyes drifting between me and the sparse room, frown still very much in place. Blinking, he seemed to make a decision.

He shifted down the door frame to sit, leaning his back against it once more. His knees were pulled up, arms crossed over them as he considered his hands absently.

"You should get some rest," he said without looking up. "A storm like the one we just came from isn't going to let up any time soon."

I pulled my legs up onto the bed, crossing them at the ankle and resting my chin on my hands as I watched the tiefling with a concerned frown.

The change in him between the gate house and here was palpable, from the slouch of his shoulders to the light clouding of his usually clear blue eyes. He had always been quick to frown, but the lines in his face seemed all of a sudden deeper, more worn.

Some time passed before I could take the silence no longer.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

He blinked up at me, frown deepening in confusion. "Am I okay?" He asked incredulously after a moment.

I immediately braced, ready for him to launch into a rant about the misfortune of being dragged into the hells. I was ready for it.

I deserved it.

But then his face immediately softened.

"Am I okay?" he repeated in whispered disbelief, managing a small chuckle. It held none of the angry cynicism I'd misconstrued from his earlier comment; only awed surprise. "You're asking me that? After…" he paused, searching for the right words and coming up short. "After everything that just happened."

I blinked back at him in surprise. My stomach clenching as I pushed aside the memory of my broken sobs. Instead, I did my best to consciously focus only on the long-forgotten love that I had felt, if only for a moment. I hugged my arms around my shoulders, finding myself smiling faintly at the memory of the warm comfort I had felt both then and afterwards, in Valen's arms.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked quietly, eyes still downcast

I frowned. "And say what?" I stuck my arm out and pretended to shake an invisible hand. "Hi, I'm…" I stumbled over my name momentarily. "I'm Emma; adventurer by day, widower by night. Pleased to meet you."

My voice broke at the end, the word 'widow' never having entered my vocabulary before. My thoughts; yes. But never had I put it out there for the world to hear.

He finally looked up, eyeing me with a raised brow. But he didn't smile at my joke, like I had secretly hoped.

"Of course not," he dismissed my joke for what it was.

I noted absently how he still held his back straight, and the deep line above his cloudy grey eyes. He kneaded his hands together, unable to be still, as he considered his next words.

"But," he paused, eyes searching my own. "But you've kept it all in." He held a balled fist to his chest. "I don't really know anything about you, about your past. I had hoped that we were…" he floundered, before settling on; "Friends."

A light blush settled over his cheeks, but he seemed content with what he had said. I realised that his eyes were clear and blue and brilliant once more.

The smile that pulled at my lips happened very much of its own accord as I nodded. "We are, Valen," I whispered. I cleared my throat, sitting up straight and adding; "Which is why I asked if you're okay." I waved a finger at him. "And don't go turning this around on me again. I've had just about enough crying for a lifetime, thank you very much." My voice wavered again, despite the joking nature of my comment.

He swallowed, face taking on a pained expression as he rested his head back against the door. "I told you of the Blood Wars, did I not?"

I nodded with a wavering smirk. "I believe I was a smart arse and told you I already knew about them; but yes."

He nodded once, smiling flatly at a memory; of his past or my prior dismissal of his attempts to share himself with me, I wasn't sure.

"My tanar'ri blood calls out for me to destroy everything baatezu," he eventually admitted.

His voice wavered ever-so-slightly, and his hands were shaking. He opened his eyes, glancing at me and then his hands with darting eyes, before shifting, so they grasped his armoured knees in a white knuckled grip, instead.

He tried for a casual shrug, but it came across as rigid and jerky. "Honestly, I do not know how the devils in the other room don't descend upon me as it is."

Quietly, I asked; "Are you going to be able to hold out? We've got a long trip ahead of us."

He took another calming breath, blue eyes locking on my own. "I believe so," he finally managed with a weak smile. "It will not be easy, but I think I can control myself."

I felt a prickle of familiarity at the direction of our conversation but chose to ignore it, focusing only on the man before me, instead.

Slumping, I whispered. "I'm sorry."

The guilt and pain of the day washed over me. I'd known how difficult this would be for him, and I'd still made him come. I needed his help, regardless of what it would cost him.

"You're sorry?" He repeated, frown deepening. But my apology made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a gentle smile.

Only Valen could frown and smile, all at once.

"For all of this," I jutted my chin at the wall, back in the direction of the bar and the devils.

He considered me thoughtfully, giving nothing away.

And then, for the barest of moments, I thought he was going to get up, his body tensing and feet shifting. But then he seemed to think better of it, settling back against the door.

The seconds ticked by, before he finally said; "You have nothing to apologise for." This he insisted with a rueful chuckle. "Now, Mephistopheles, on the other hand; he'll be sorry." A wicked smile curved his lips, blue iris' shifting grey before my eyes.

I felt myself returning the smile. The guilt that had wound itself around my stomach, pushing down on my chest and making it hard to breath, lifted; ever so slightly.

"Well," I mused. "I'm happy you're here with me. I don't think I could do this, be here, without you." I hurriedly added; "Deekin too."

My smile widened at the kobold's name, unable to truly believe that he was here.

"He is…" Valen's frown deepened, trying to find the right words, before finally settling on; "not what I expected."

And so we sat like that for a time, the door between us and the devil's beyond barricaded by Valen's back, as I told him all of the very best stories of my time travelling with Deekin.

Valen's frown lifted as each story became wilder than the last, his eyebrows rising and smile lighting up his eyes as he chuckled along with me.

We sat like that long enough for me to unwind my scarf and unbutton most of my leather top to reveal the slip of a shirt beneath; the room impossibly warm despite the raging cold that was waiting for us outside.

As we spoke I sipped from my icy cold water skin, shucking off my boots and wiggling my warming toes as I settled onto the bed. I told Valen about Deekin's old boss, the cranky old white dragon with a soft spot for the hard, all the way to the Ao worshipers had thought me their god incarnate, before Deekin had very adamantly insisted otherwise. We chuckled as I recounted the cheeky kobold's response.

But my laughter quickly became a yawn, and I found myself rubbing at the tears that pooled in my eyes and hoping that Valen thought them just a product of my sudden exhaustion.

"Take the bed," Valen insisted after a moment of consideration.

I frowned, looking down at the space still available and — without thinking — said; "It's probably big enough for two."

I didn't think anything of it before the blush began to creep up Valen's neck. He offered another deep chuckle, shaking his head to cover his discomfort.

"I doubt I will sleep tonight," he shrugged me off. "You and Deekin take it, I'll keep watch."

I frowned. "We can't have you collapsing from exhaustion out there," I insisted, attempting to keep my tone light.

I doubted my aim was going to be at its best with my hands wrapped in gloves and shaking from the cold. And Deekin, whilst a welcome addition, could offer only support.

Any hope of escaping Cania intact hinged entirely on Valen.

"I do not need as much sleep as you do," he explained. "Another benefit," he turned his lip up at the word, "of my demonic blood."

"I didn't realise that," I said with a frown, thinking back on the game and what I remembered of tieflings from my younger years playing D&D.

"And how could you? It is not as if we have spoken about it. Unless…" his voice took on a teasing tone, a wicked smile curving his lips. My heart jumped unexpectedly. "Have I not been the only tiefling in your life?"

His tone was light, but it shamed me to acknowledge the truth of it. Any conversation that hadn't immediately turned to his fear of my betrayal, I had wrapped up as quickly as possible, only putting in the necessary effort needed to get him to follow me to Cania.

I'd kept everybody at arm's length.

Him especially.

"One tiefling is plenty," I smiled to show I was joking. I stretched my arms, my shoulders popping in protest. "But I could do with some of those benefits," I admitted wistfully through another tired yawn. "You'll have to tell me about them all sometime," I said.

It was only once the words left my mouth that I realised how they seemed to ring with insinuation. My eyes widened, and — to make matters worse — I glanced suddenly at his tail, curved languishly around his thigh.

I heard him chuckle lightly in response, and the only reason my cheeks didn't burn with embarrassment was that he didn't seem to notice my awkward pause.

Beyond thankful, my eyes found his again. But — at the curious tilt to his head and the unfamiliar, considering look in his eye — I suddenly wasn't so sure.

Determined to move on as quickly as possible, I shuffled up the bed, dropping my cloak and gloves to the floor and wriggling below the thin, itchy blankets.

"Wake me if Deekin's not back soon?" I asked quietly, once I was settled.

"Of course," he promised.

He held my gaze for a moment, before settling his head back against the door and closing his eyes.

It took longer than I expected to get comfortable, my mind exhausted but my newly revived body full of nervous energy.

What time was it? Was it even night, yet?

Would the weather ever let up or would we be forced to travel through it?

How long has Deekin been gone?

Was I hungry or just bored?

I tossed and turned, reaching below the blankets at one point and shimmying out of my leather breeches in an attempt to get more comfortable. Stretching out from under the blankets, I quietly placed them on the floor with my other belongings.

Before settling back, I glanced in Valen's direction, surprised to find his eyes still open.

He was staring down at his hands and — if his deep frown was anything to go by — mulling something over. Sensing my attention, his gaze snapped up to meet my own.

He smiled lazily, opening his mouth to say something, before the door handle gave a tentative wiggle.

His posture immediately straightened, and he reached for his weapon. I was already pulling the blanket back, reaching for the knife I'd left under my pillow, when Deekin's ignorantly cheery voice reached us through the door.

"Boss!" He called. "Deekin gots dinner!"

It wasn't much later — my stomach uncomfortably full and everyone that I cared about in this little room with me — that I found I could finally get comfortable.

And, as much as I worried for the tiefling, it helped knowing that Valen was watching over us.

NOTEBOOK EXTRACT

The following is in Jane's messy handwriting, and is wobblier than usual; probably written without a surface whilst standing.

The Five-Fold Mysteries of the Sleeping Man

Who is he? A planetar, a creature of good.

From where did he come? From Elysium.

Why did he leave? His heart had known no love. (Bleh!)

Who did he seek? The Knower of Places to ask her where his love would meet him.

What was the answer? She will find you by the Gates of Cania.