I don't remember passing out. But I must have, to be waking up now.

Everything was foggy, the sounds far away. The cold was no surprise… everything was always so fucking cold. Why couldn't there be a tropical hell?

I was swaddled in blankets, lying on my back on the cold packed snow. I could hear the crackling of a fire, the shifting of my companions. They were safe. We were safe.

I let the sounds wash over me, content to wake slowly — but, why did everything hurt so much? I groaned as something pulled on my neck sharply, skin burning. Why had I passed out?

And then my eyes snapped open, and I remembered.

His teeth dug deeper and deeper, his hands everywhere.

Valen.

I sat up, blankets falling around my waist, wind howling all around. For a moment I was struck by panic, the thundering of my heart all that I could hear. I blinked my eyes once, twice; blinding white light everywhere.

No, not light; snow. Always snow.

We were huddled in the nook of an old building, two half-collapsed walls to protect us against the wastes of Cania. I was sitting in the corner of the joined walls, the fire between me and the never ending whiteness.

And on the other side of the flames was Valen.

I froze.

He watched me with an unreadable blankness. Sitting, arms crossed atop his knees and back hunched. He picked absentmindedly at his nails, horrible red eyes unblinking as he considered me.

My breath caught, my whole body tensing up. But then the wind howled and the fire shuddered under the barrage of cold air and I saw that his eyes weren't red at all. They were a hazy blue; red flecks reflecting the burning flames tenfold. My breathing returned to normal, but my heart still clenched painfully in my chest.

"Shit," I groaned.

I raised one hand against the glare, the other to my pinching neck. Instead of skin, I found bandages covering the fresh injury — Valen's mark. I pulled my hand away, recognising the faint smell of a powerful healing potion, feeling the light tingle of it on my neck. I blinked across the fire as the hazy fog cleared from my mind bit by bit, my hand dropping slowly.

Deekin was prodding the popping red embers with an old wand, and at my glance he attempted a nervous smile across the flames. He was rugged up, under more than just his own blanket, but the shadowing bulk couldn't hide the fresh bruises on his snout, around his eyes from our battle with the demons and devils.

Aribeth was even worse off. What she still wore of her armour was covered in sticky dark blood, and one of her eyes were shot through with red. She pushed herself up with a groan, hobbling carefully to my side. Placing a hand gently to my shoulder, she grabbed my chin, tilting it.

"Let me see," she insisted at my stiff resistance to the painful movement.

I hissed as she pried away the bandage, the cold air making the injury sting afresh. She tutted before re-covering it, silently passing me a potion to help the healing along.

As I sipped at it, I felt the soreness of my muscles subside. I felt the deep, dull throbbing in my ribs — which I hadn't even noticed with the painful burning on my neck — lessen. The thumping in my head faded. My muscles relaxed. I sighed through my last sip, eyes drooping in exhaustion as my body was forced to repair faster than strictly natural.

When I opened them again, Valen was still watching me. As I took him in, memories of his attack all came flooding back. I shivered, pulling the blanket higher up my body. Leaning forward on his haunches, his face was a careful mask. Eyes roamed over my bandaged throat and back again, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"How did you do it?" he asked.

…do it? I frowned. Did he not remember? I felt my heart flutter before glancing nervously at Aribeth.

"How did you stop me?" His voice broke, eyes landing on my throat once more. "I would have…" he forced the words out with a grimace. "I would have killed you."

I swallowed hard, feeling his words like a punch to the stomach. I closed my eyes against the memory of his snarling face, his too-red eyes.

"I nearly did," he breathed.

I drew a deep breath, feeling all three sets of eyes on me. My tongue felt too thick in my mouth, the words stuck in my throat.

"I…" I paused.

Looking into his eyes I saw the agony there; the pain and self-loathing he had been trying so hard to hide. I saw how unfair the world was, and how well this man knew it.

He dragged his eyes away and turned to the fire. Fiery red hair draped his pale features as he hung his head.

I'd expected Valen to press, his trust in me having only been so recently earned. But it was Aribeth who eventually demanded the truth, her voice unwavering.

"What aren't you telling us, Emma?"

My world shattered.

I can't hide this any longer…

I swallowed thickly.

"Jane," I whispered and all eyes snapped to me.

The name — my name — felt foreign on my tongue.

I could see the confusion in Valen's eyes, the pinching around Aribeth's. Deekin's head darted between our companions in interest, his back straightening in surprise.

There was no turning back now.

"My name is Jane," I repeated.

Valen looked down at his hands with a deep frown, shaking his head, jaw clenched.

My eyes never left his face.

When he looked up again, there was no anger. Gods, the anger would have been easier. There was only confusion, hurt; my betrayal and lies reflected right back at me.

"What are you saying?" Valen asked.

And I told them, my eyes never leaving his own.

As I spoke I could see Deekin nodding in support. Valen was still. Aribeth paced. But every one of them was silent; the howl of the wind carrying my words.

I told them how I had woken in Faerûn, stolen from my world; a universe seemingly bereft of magic and filled only with humans. How, in my home, everything that had happened to me so far — and some of what would happen — was written in a book; my first and only hint of something magical at play.

Except the story wasn't about me; it was about Emma.

Eyes dry from a year of detachment, and a wall built stone-by-stone, I told them how Emma had died my first night in their world. How she'd died trying to protect us. How I'd taken on her role for lack of anywhere else to go, using my knowledge of what was to come to stay alive.

They had questions, of course they did. How did this book work? How can a portal have opened in a world without magic? Everything, you knew everything? And I did my best to answer them as honestly as I could without confusing them further.

"So, this is all for our benefit?" Aribeth finally exclaimed in disbelief, arms wide and motioning to the frozen Wastes. "You already know the Reaper's Name?"

My eyes widened and I shook my head sharply, eyes darting to her. She looked furious, pale cheeks darkening in anger.

"No! I only remembered his." I gasped, shaking my head roughly. To Valen, I said; "It's how… it's how I stopped you."

She looked skeptical, they both did.

I lowered my voice, imploring. "I wouldn't have made us travel all this way if there'd been another way."

"Of all the Names, you remembered only his?" She seethed in disbelief. I could see the confusion and surprise in her stance.

And, like a magnet, my eyes were drawn back to Valen.

I saw a flash of anger then, burning and terrible in those shifting eyes of his. The muscles in his jaw tensed, those strong hands that had once roamed my body — once in a moment of fierce passion and another in a moment of dark intentions — clenched into tight fists. I could sense the awful speed and strength his demonic blood had gifted him, etched in every hard line and beautiful curve of his body. But slowly, as he looked at me, he wrestled the rage back into its box, and the tension in his frame faded. He swallowed hard and turned to the fire.

"Why lie?" he asked flatly.

I took a moment to consider my response; my first instinct to twist the truth to suit my needs.

But I sighed, deflated.

"At first I was scared," I admitted. My eyes found Deekin's. "And then — when I did tell people — things started changing." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "And everything went to shit."

"You knew all of this?" Aribeth's head snapped to the kobold, accusation in her voice.

Deekin offered a flat, toothless smile. "Deekin knew." he nodded. "Boss told me everything aaaaages ago. Already already knew about Goatman and Elflady back in Hilltop. Boss not lying."

I could see Valen considering the implications.

I smiled fondly at the kobold, despite the pain in my heart. "Deekin was never meant to die." I said bitterly. "I think I changed that, by telling him what was going to happen."

Emma was never meant to die, either.

Gods, I was like a fucking cancer.

I felt a chill go through me.

What would change now that they knew?

"I couldn't tell you. I couldn't risk it." I insisted at their stunned silence, eyes searching Valen's. I pushed down on my fears, grasping desperately for the anger that had kept me going, when fear should have frozen me to the spot. It bubbled just below the surface, red hot. "Not that you would have believed me."

He frowned.

"Emma—" he cut himself off at the name, eyes turning hard and angry. "— Jane. Whoever you are." He gritted out "I trusted you."

Trusted. I swallowed a shaky breath, stomping down hard on my clenching heart.

He seemed to see the effect his words had on me, eyes softening slightly.

"Trust." he corrected himself, unsure. Hurt shone bright in his eyes. "I had thought…" he sighed. "I had thought you trusted me enough to share something as important as this."

I do…

"What happens next?" Aribeth insisted, eyes searching.

I considered all of the possibilities, everyone's attention on me. Even Deekin leant forward.

"We find the Knower." I said simply. "We buy the names. And we return to Waterdeep to defeat Mephistopheles. Everything we planned."

"And afterwards?" Aribeth pressed hungrily.

"It changes." I said carefully. "There are lots of possibilities."

"Don't mince words," Aribeth snapped. "What is to become of us? Me?"

And then I saw it. Beneath the anger and hurt; fear. Bitter twisted fear.

And I might not have remembered all of her True Name, but I remembered the most telling part.

As Valen was The Demonwrestler, Aribeth was The Twinsouled.

"It depends," I retorted sharply. "Sometimes you leave. Sometimes you stay and fight."

I was going to leave it there, but I could see in the set of her jaw that it wasn't enough. Her eyes were hard.

"Sometimes you travel with the Sleeping Man. And sometimes you're not the woman he was waiting for…"

And sometimes you side with the devil.

Her eyes widened momentarily before narrowing into slits.

"Say what it is you avoid." She snapped. "Sometimes I betray you, don't I?"

A bitter smile twisted her lips.

I couldn't find the words, my silence all the answer she needed.

"So my fate was always set?" her eyes flashed dangerously.

Her head darted wildly from Deekin to Valen, and she held his gaze.

"Don't you see what she does? The true reason she didn't wish to tell us the truth? She plays at being a god."

Her eyes snapped back to me. White all around.

"You've orchestrated everything to suit your needs." But then her voice dropped at the end, all of the bitter hate seeping out of her and leaving only the scared and confused women I'd saved from the ice. "Will I ever be free to choose for myself?"

Her words stung, the truth of them hard to deny.

Shit…

I desperately searched Valen's carefully controlled features, wrapping my arms around my stomach and hugging tight.

Did he feel the same?

I wilted under his considering gaze.

"Please. Trust that I've only wanted what was best for you." I pleaded. "For all of you."

But mostly, you wanted what was best for yourself.

At first, I thought it was the sword's voice, so strong and clear it was. But then I realised that he sat idly by my bag, silent. My shoulders dropped, the fight gone out of me.

"Trust is earned." Aribeth considered me, her face shifting between self-pity and anger, fists clenched impossibly tight by her side. At last, she shut her eyes hard, shaking her head. "I need some time."

Without another word, she grabbed her sword, turning and marching into the white nothingness beyond our alcove.

I reached out a hand towards her, concern both for her — alone in the Wastes — and for the very real possibility that she might simply just keep walking.

My eyes darted desperately to Deekin.

I didn't need to say anything, the kobold jumping up with a grunt of effort. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself — pausing only momentarily to consider the tiefling and me with a concerned little frown — before he darted after Aribeth.

I sighed in relief as I saw the elf's retreating form pause long enough for Deekin to catch up. But my chest was still tight, my stomach still roiling. I waited for Valen to say something.

Minutes passed. Ticking by like lifetimes.

Finally — and yet all too soon — he broke the silence.

"The other night," he started cautiously. "What did that mean to you?"

My eyes snapped up to his in surprise. I had been expecting many things, but not… that.

I frowned. "What does that have to do with this?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, and I felt myself tense, mind recalling the sight of him angry and snarling above me. Noticing, he hung his head, staring into the flames.

I watched him watching the fire, the howling wind and the popping timber and a thousand words unsaid hanging between us.

"How can you say that?" he eventually sighed. Another pause. "Do you think about us?"

"Of course I do," I snapped.

His hand, feverishly hot against my suddenly chill skin. It snaked up to rest below my ear, rough thumb caressing my cheek as our breaths mingled. I ran my hands down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between us.

I felt a shiver go through me, unrelated to the howling winds.

"Yes," I sighed shakily. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Was any of that real?" His eyes searched mine. The red flecks were blurring around the edges, the blue of his iris' darkening to a deep purple. "Or was it just a way to manipulate me?"

I blinked at him in wonder, heart thudding impossibly loud.

"I knew there were things you were hiding, your past, your…" he faltered. "…your husband. I can understand that more than anyone. We all have history." He shook his head. "But I did not realise you were hiding yourself."

I frowned. "You know me."

"Do I?"

I stood, circling the fire to kneel before him, reaching for his hand. His eyes darted to my throat and he pulled away, clenching them into fists. Instead, I placed my hand on his knee carefully.

"You know me, Valen."

He searched my eyes for something, and this time — when I reached for him — he didn't pull away. I squeezed his clenched fist in mine.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you. I think I was going to." I held his gaze, squeezing his hand harder. "After." The word felt bitter on my lips. My excuse hollow.

He smiled wanly at a memory. And — whilst he didn't return the pressure of my hand — he still didn't pull away.

My pulse was running quickly, my heart thudding in my chest. It was so loud that I thought he surely must hear it.

"But that's not why I've been holding back," I admitted slowly, and felt everything but him fall away.

He searched my face. Waiting.

I placed my other hand on top of his, willing him to understand.

"This isn't my home," I said. "Waterdeep isn't my home. After all of this, I need to find a portal back."

I could see the moment he understood.

"Sigil," he said, eyes hardening. "So you were using me." His voice held a bitter edge to it, his timbre a low growl. The red flecks started swallowing up the blue.

"No," I insisted. "I was being selfish. But I wasn't using you. I didn't want this—" I squeezed his hands impossibly hard. "—whatever this is, to end. Not yet."

I paused, the words pathetic even to my own ears.

Something seemed to occur to him, his lips twisting with a dark chuckle. "Well, you did tell me that your world was no place for someone like me." I felt a stab of guilt at my words, repeated back at me verbatim. "And you intend to return there? After?" The word sent a lance through my heart.

I swallowed thickly, nodding.

He shook his head. Pulling his hands roughly away from my own. He turned his head roughly, the anger clear in the tense set of his shoulders, the muscle popping in his jaw.

"What do you want me to say?" he snarled roughly.

His eyes swirled dangerously, the redness of them growing in intensity.

The part of me that craved his acceptance begged; Tell me that you forgive me.

The part that worried that my parents, my friends would never know what happened to me was fearful. Tell me you'll help me, still.

And then —unbidden from the back of my mind — quieter, but no less true. Tell me that you love me.

"I don't know," I said instead.

And then, as I watched the darkening of his eyes — as he dropped them to hide his pain and anger — an idea took hold.

"But let me make up for some of it." I said.

I lifted a hand to his face.

He tensed, but didn't flinch, jaw tightening as I ran my thumb down his cheek. His eyes locked with mine, cautious, but I could see the want my touch had awoken in him. It was carved in the curve of his mouth, the darkening of his eyes as he glanced down at my lips. My fingers trailed down his cheek, grasping his neck, the muscles tight beneath his skin. Anger warred with lust in his eyes, and I don't know which scared me more.

I felt butterflies rolling in my belly, my breath coming a little bit faster.

"Don't," Valen gritted out, his eyes impossibly red.

He lifted a rough hand to my wrist. I could see him battling with the demon, now so quick to surface.

I shuffled closer, leaning against his knees and bringing my other hand to his neck.

"Oeskathine the Demonwrestler," I whispered for the second time that day.

But, this time, my fear was gone. The truth was already out in the open and his trust was already shattered. I didn't have anything to lose.

And he had everything to gain.

He tensed. Jaw locking and eyes widening. He tried to jerk away from hands, but I held him close.

"What… What are you going to ask of me?"

And then I saw it — chasing away the hurt and want and anger — his fear.

"What more could you want?"

"I…" I smiled sadly. "I release you from your demonic taint."

"You… what?" he scowled.

And then the air around him changed.

Something flickered, something I could not quite see. A bone-deep tremor ran through him, and he closed his eyes through a shudder, his whole body convulsing. He listed, and I held him firm, hands dropping to his shoulders and pulling him to me.

Long after he stopped, he remained in my arms, face pressed into the nook of my neck, my bandage catching against his skin.

He gasped through one shuddering breath and the next, pressed hard against me, arms tight around my shoulders and holding on for dear life. His shoulders shook and I felt the telling dampness of tears on my neck. I could hear each of his shuddering breaths.

"Thank you."

His whispered thanks was so quiet I almost missed it.

And I felt my heart thudding in time with his own.

When he did eventually pull away his lashes were damp, tears in his crystal clear eyes.

Blue as the day I met him.

He ran the back of his fingers gently against the bandage at my neck regret clear in his gaze as he retreated.

"How do you feel?" I asked him tentatively.

His eyes snapped up to mine.

"How do I…" he repeated numbly. "I feel…." And then, he smiled.

I pulled back, my whole body weak. Shaking. I closed my eyes, letting the wonder in his tone wash over me. A small smile pulled at my lips, despite the hard ball of guilt that sat in my gut.

I could already see the change in him, and not just in the long-forgotten clearness of his eyes. His features were still the same – he still had horns and a tail – but there was something inherently altered within. The fierce rage barely held in check, the tightness to his features that I had never noticed. They were gone.

"I… I can't believe it!" he exclaimed.

He pulled back to his feet, looking down at himself in wonder. Slowly, he brought a hand up to check if he still had his horns, his tail snaking around his thigh. He paused when he found their gentle curve, his opinion on the matter unclear. But then another smile flared on his face, and it warmed my thudding heart.

"It's gone!" he beamed. And I didn't have to guess at what was gone. The anger had seeped out of him. "I feel… I feel wonderful. I feel human."

He laughed joyously and I saw that he wanted to pull me up into his arms, his hands fluttering at his sides.

Instead, he paused and offered me a tentative smile, only a hint of regret in it.

"I cannot thank you enough," he said earnestly. But then I saw the pain from earlier flash across his features. "And — whilst I fear this was just another way to force my hand to help you — I will not let this debt go unpaid."

His eyes softened.

"No," I denied his fear venomously, tears stinging.

"It is okay," he assured me, hand outstretched.

I took his hand, words failing me again as he pulled me to my feet. I shook my head.

His look was considering, contemplative.

"I have always fought," he told me slowly. Not at all what I expected. "Nothing is kept by those who don't fight for it."

He lifted a hand to my face and my jaw tightened. With his rough thumb he trailed the curve of my lips, touch featherlight, mirroring my earlier touch. I knew I should pull away, I knew I should stop this, but he held me with his unwavering gaze.

"I have fought for my life. For my freedom." His touch was as warm as the fire. "For my humanity."

I felt my heart clench at the intensity of his voice.

"And for you." He said, swallowing, attention drifting down to my lips and then slowly back up. "I will take you to Sigil. But first I must hear you say it."

"Say what?" I whispered.

I could barely hear my own voice over the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind. It was like ice and fire; the heat at my back and everywhere he touched. The freezing air on my face.

"That you do not want to stay," he breathed, leaning closer still.

I do.

This close, looking into the clear blue of his eyes, I realised just how much I wanted him. Wanted to stay with him.

"I can't."

"That is not what I asked."

He ran his hand down my arm, pulling me closer still. My skin erupted in goosebumps, the material between us too little, yet all too much.

I felt my hands moving of their own accord, up his armoured chest, to find purchase behind his neck. Pulling him down, down. I felt the shiver as it ran down his spine.

His head dipped.

My eyes closed.

"Boss and Goatman made up!"

And then Deekin and Aribeth rejoined us and I didn't know whether to cry with relief or frustration.

NOTEBOOK EXTRACT

There are a large chunk of empty pages after the list of True Names. Flicking through each page, there is nothing further to hint at the end of Jane's journey.

However, it's obvious that the last page has been ripped out hastily; half a torn page the end of the notebook.