A/N Before writing this. 'Let's just see where this goes. Got an idea and it could be fun'

A short time later:

Well...I wasn't planning on this, but what happened is I sat down to write something fun and a little cracky to delve into Fae's timeskip development, and 10k words of unexpected plot later, I'm thinking I 'might' need a part 3.

Part 1

Wendy was regarding the folded bolt of carefully treated and specially crafted hide like she wanted to be sick. It was beautifully cured doeskin, one of several. Each thus far had portrayed a comic strip of sorts, telling a story which I would describe very crudely as the following.

On the first hide, it showed a man meets a dragon. And is in absolute awe of her. Morgana had been very certain this dragon was supposed to be portrayed as female.

The second hide showed the dragon saved the man in some way, he was shown as injured and the she-dragon swoops in and saves the day.

Third: The man and dragon become friends, there are a few images of them together, showing the distance closing swiftly.

The fourth gave vague, entirely off screen allusions to them apparently getting busy because there are suddenly a clutch of eggs and tiny dragons in the picture.

All of these lead up to the fifth hide painting which Wendy currently held. The dragon, the man and the smaller dragons routing some people. And here he did not spare the details in what was done to the people. There was a liberal amount of red used on this final piece.

From an artistic standpoint, it certainly has a theme and charm. But this was still stalking.

The first hide could be considered a gift from a grateful patient. The second made me start looking for a potentially disturbed individual. The delivery of the third hide in as many days had made it my #1 priority.

As each gift arrived, Wendy changed her patterns to try and evade him. First taking a sabbatical from her clinic and staying inside the guild hall. The hide appeared right outside the door, and no one saw or heard anything. Rogue couldn't even get a scent off of the hide other than the paint. She progressed to locking down at home. He found her there too. We had moved locations twice to try and evade this guy. Now we had prepared a retreat, a safe house that he...apparently couldn't track her to. This had been delivered to where a life-size doll of Wendy had been placed as a decoy. It had been made by Laki with her Wood Make magic, and painted by Reedus. Sherry of Lamia Scale had devoted her time to controlling the fake Wendy with her Doll Magic to try and throw her stalker off his game and lure him into the open.

"Anything?" She asked, holding the hide out towards me. I touched its surface gently...

At first, All I could read was it's approximate age. The doe had been young, less than two years old. Next came the confirmation that it had been crafted by the same person that had made the previous four hides with the same materials and primary tool. A magical paintbrush known as the Windhue. And underneath that general information, the personal message...

It has to be perfect. Everything has to be perfect. For her. For my goddess. She deserves nothing less. Together, we are perfect, there can be no one else for her or for me.

I wrenched my hand away as the history of the thing led to the same place as the others. Obsessive madness and a powerful feeling of entitled self righteousness, wishing I could scrub the inside of my mind. I probably looked as nauseated as Wendy did right now.

"Same person, same brush, same dogma." The last known owner of the Windhue was a rather famous artist in Stella. She was also happily married and dedicated to her own life and passion. Morgana could safely tell me that whoever made this, it was not Madam Chante.

But she couldn't tell me who it was either. Something about the making and delivery was hiding that information from me.

Wendy tossed the hide aside, fists trembling. I pushed down my distaste for the reflected feelings of the stalker and gave her a hug. We had both grown in the last year, but I was now taller than her, finally. Her hair was cut to shoulder length, with a long braid woven with a cord of red, brown and earth orange. A Nirvit tradition upon turning 16 she had taken up to honor Cait Shelter.

"I hate this..." Her whisper barely stirred the air. "I'm not a kid anymore, I could probably take this guy apart blindfolded. So why-"

'Why am I still so afraid?'

Morgana completed Wendy's unspoken thought.

And I couldn't even say she wasn't wrong to be worried.

I couldn't tell anything about this person other than that it was a male, and an intelligent one. We had taken every possible precaution we could and still somehow this man always found her to deliver his gifts. We could have baited him into a confrontation. If he tried to harm or take her, we could retaliate. But we just...didn't know enough. Denying the stalker access to Wendy was intended to draw him out. Make him make a move. But he always managed to find her. Only today had something gone right for us since the first painting was delivered five days prior. Kagura was out scouring every connection she could find to try and find someone. Something. Anything. Any lead, clue or hint as to who had the nerve to scare Wendy.

If she found anything, I didn't expect it to ever make it to a court.

Simon's face could have chipped diamond as he watched from the lacrima phone we were using to connect with him. He could probably infer what Wendy hadn't been able to say aloud.

"Fae. I got through to the Council. The legalities are taken care of. We take point from here on. Laki will come to switch out with you."

I nodded my understanding. I had already been over everything before it was submitted for the investigation. But having everything all together with the insights of the Knights as well...

Wizards were not supposed to supersede the authority of the Rune Knights. We could only take over a situation like this once a bunch of red tape was unspooled to outline what we were and were not supposed to do. My abduction 5 years ago had thrown things into a state of emergency. I had been a guild ward, and my guild already had people in the area where it was suspected I was being brought, so once people figured out what had happened, they were retroactively given jurisdiction.

And I don't think anyone wanted to quibble over the details then.

But if we finally had the go ahead...we might be able to get things rolling.

"Let me check the wards then I'll be on my way."

The Fidelius Charm was no joke to try and reproduce. Months worth of work, study and preparation had gone into our retreat, a piece of property that we had scraped to purchase. In the last few days, I had taken it over to reinforce it into a bunker-like structure that only Fairy Tail could access. Either with a guild mark, or a sanctioned token, like my crest. Otherwise...it was as though it didn't exist for the rest of the world. Well and truly off the grid.

Wendy had to stay here full time. But we made sure she was never alone throughout that.

You are going to stop making her afraid, you bastard. You will not going to rob her of another night's sleep!

-vVv-

Blue Pegasus's Ren Akatsuki was waiting just outside the Rune Knights HQ when I arrived, landing lightly and discarding my illusion to keep most people from gawking at me as I flew. My wings, sharp and spiky and a dark angry orange color, reflecting my present mindset, broke the moment my feet touched the ground with the sound of breaking glass. Normally, they faded away gracefully, like evaporating frost. The happy thought I had used to power this flight had been more one of ruthless satisfaction of finding who was responsible for this and...correcting him. It had been the most I could muster given circumstances. He gave me a quick nod, glancing over me with the assessment of an expert host. Noting my expression and posture and tailoring his approach to it.

"Fae. How is she?" Short, to the point. Not wasting time on useless remark or platitudes.

"She'll be fine." I am done chasing this guy. We are getting him. Now.

He held the door for me as we entered the building. Rune Knights were milling around, some doing the daily work, others running their own cases.

Wendy's case was being handled as a case of stalking as if she were an adult. Because legally, at least by the terms of the state, she was. Wendy had functionally been emancipated from the need of having a legal guardian when she got her medical license. The wizarding guilds viewed her still as a minor however. And their response was proportionate. People got moving quickly when kids were involved.

I should know given what was done for me.

Things had not been moving quickly here. Because all that had happened was the delivery of some gifts, no formal investigation could be opened for Wendy. Not unless we got a picture of this guy or actually saw him near her. And frustratingly enough...we had seen nothing.

Lyon and Sherria were here representing Lamia Scale in our alliance. Ren and Jenny were here for Blue Pegasus. Lahir, who was involved because Fairy Tail was and for literally no other reason, was also standing around a table with the others. And on the table, being reviewed and reexamined, was everything that had ever been sent to Wendy by the perp:

Four hides, now five as I laid down the final piece, had been delivered outside of whatever building Wendy had been in around dusk. Only with her behind the strongest most secure wards I could craft, and with a decoy in place had this guy not managed to find her.

Every day since Wendy got the first hide, Simon had been delivered a freshly slaughtered stag, several barrels of booze and almost 100,000 jewel in raw gemstones and old coins. (some of considerable value.) Descriptions of the perishable carcasses were included on the table as well as some photos. They themselves were contained in status runes in the onsite coroner.

Lyon looked ready to snarl as he viewed the final hide.

"This is how he sees her...?" The dragon depicted here looked less like Grandeeny and more like Acnologia. It was not a flattering image for those who had seen the nightmare in person.

Sherria gave a sharp exhale, anger burning in her eyes. Her protectiveness of Wendy as a teacher and peer was only growing stronger the more they worked together. And she was easily a dervish of a spitfire that Wendy had to spend a lot of time cooling to let her use her healing magic to full effect. The Sky God Slayer looked more than ready to deliver some divine wrath on behalf of her victimized teacher.

"This feels final." Lahir remarked carefully. He tended to do everything carefully these days as our liaison. He was still on thin freaking ice because of Tenrou...

"We won't know that until we know why he's doing this." Jenny said, leaning on one hip to review the evidence again. Her make up was still done as if she had come from a photo-shoot, manicured fingers rapped briefly on the table. "This isn't the sort of thing you can make, or pull off on a whim."

The times I saw the Sorcerer Weekly top model be this serious were few and far between. But as a public figure, she had experienced her fair share of crazed fans.

"I can confirm that all five pieces were created by the same person with the help of the Windhue." I glanced at our board and the various ties that held our theories together. "But using the item and the method that they did, they've removed any discernible or scryable trace of themselves from the paintings."

"Stella is remaining close mouthed about that portion of the investigation." The Rune Knight we usually worked with looked only mildly frustrated, which was testament to his control.

"It took me three days to even work them down to admitting that the Windhue is missing." People did tend to get touchy about ancient historical artifacts mysteriously disappearing. Madame Chante was the latest in a long line of artists that had been entrusted with the brush. The Windhue was famous for being able to administer paint in the exact shade the artist imagined it and could alter its size to the type of brush an artist wished to use at that time. It had no further application, it was only considered as special as it was because it had never needed to be refurbished or recharged in the time it had played a role in some major artistic movements over the last 700 years.

Someone stole the Windhue from Stella. Someone managed to pull together a considerable sum of liquid assets.

The stag was native to several countries and wouldn't be of much help narrowing where these gifts were coming from. The alcohol was homemade and very strong for all it had only been curing for a short time.

Windhue points to Stella. The gems though...they could be important.

"Can any of this be traced? The mint on the coins? Their age? Shipping records of the gemstones? The distillery of the alcohol? Anything?" Lyon's gesture took in everything on the table. "We've been handed regular shipments of evidence, there has to be something in them that we can use."

Lahir's face twisted like he was sucking on a lemon.

"The grapes used to distill the liquor are found in a variety of regions, pinpointing the particular species is...beyond what resources the Rune Knights have available." He met my gaze then, a tight edged desperation behind them. He couldn't do what he wanted to right now with his available power and restrictions.

We had disagreed in the past, and some things I would never quite forgive Lahir for. But right now, we both wanted the same thing. We wanted to catch this stalker. And his hands were tied by what could be mobilized as long as this guy never actually interacted with Wendy and was never seen to be threatening her or being seen as a viable threat to others.

The Guilds were to take charge now. The investigation would shift out of the public eye and into the private sector. It normally took much longer than this for that to happen .The case had to officially be considered cold for us to get our hands on it. But this way, they could maintain that we had been given permission.

Simon had been out for the last two days getting us this approval.

The times I had stood in with Simon as he negotiated on Fairy Tail's behalf had been few and far between. Most of the time, as he put it, I could do the most good for the guild if I could go and work where I did best and left him to deal with the red tape.

So Lahir was understandably relieved when I handed him the sealed order from the Magic Council Simon had delivered to me when I stopped by the guild hall. He had to stay away from this meeting to terrify Twilight Ogre into staying away from our supporting businesses, otherwise he would be here too. The bottom feeding guild were little more than leeches who thought they were loan sharks. They had already made life hard for several of our suppliers of goods and services, as well as regular clients for maintenance and escort work. And they didn't stop their mechanitions just because we were in our own state of emergency. He opened it and scanned it briefly, shoulders sagging marginally in relief.

"The Magic Council has surrendered control of the investigation to Fairy Tail. Guild Master Mikazushi has elected Faerun as the Fairy Tail representative."

Which also meant, this whole case was now mine. The energy in the room transformed from tense and angry to tense and alert. I didn't waste any time. Morgana and I had already been thinking through what we would do once the case was officially in our hands.

"Blue Pegasus; I want your Archivists to analyze the wine and trace it. Get me everything, from the vineyard it came from the cooper who made the barrels." Ren snapped his fingers, conjuring a wind that scooped up one of the barrels of fruity liquor.

"Lamia Scale, take pictures and descriptions of the gems and coins. The stones are all raw, so jewelers haven't handled them yet. We're looking for mines that reported banditry, merchants that got robbed or have been arrested for bad deals. Run down the coins with museums and archeologists to track their country of origin, and if they have been buried and recently dug up. Check the same areas that reported robbery, and cross reference your lists to find us some suspects." Sherria looked like she wanted to protest, but Lyon merely flipped the needed documents into their respective files and tucked them under his arm.

"Understood, Fae."

He feels it is his responsibility to step up in Gray's absence to take care of you as he would. I pushed that thought, however sweet it might be, out of my mind and turned towards the Rune Knight in the room.

"Captain Lahir: I will need the best scrying chamber your people have and even better discretion. I will be working on the paintings and hopefully will have additional insight for us to map out where we can begin searching."

-vVv-

Scrying chambers were the same kind of chamber used to astral project stable images. Anyone could project an illusion of themselves somewhere else. But if multiple people were doing it at the same time, it caused a lot of magical feedback. It was hard to pretend you were having a serious meeting about the management of magic in the country when you couldn't say two words without a harsh squeal making your image wobble like a fun house mirror.

That meant they were all cleaned and maintained to be as magically neutral as possible on both sides of the connection.

Rune Knight offices and departments had chambers like this for calling in reports to the Magic Council member responsible for them, or for the member of the King's Cabinet who was supervising them.

This also made it a fantastic place to do deep dive Readings. This environment was practically sterile. My psychometry tended to snag on obvious details first, circumventing my own natural observation with a surface level insight connecting many points to let me reach a reasonably accurate conclusion. That wasn't working in this case. I was getting information that largely wouldn't help, like the age of the deer when it was hunted and killed. Minerals the Windhue drew on to make certain colors. And over all of that was a constant, manic, infuriating muttering of the stalker's obsession with Wendy. Unlike normal romantic feelings that appeared in the back of my mind, this even looked sick. It registered as an unhealthy pink edged with mucus green and rusty red.

In this room, I could isolate those obvious factors and push them aside with them getting lost in everything else around me. Here, I could start to unravel some of the patterns in the art that was displayed. I could see similar strokes and the same perceived shades of color matching across all five paintings.

First, just what I can observe.

Each painting was done meticulously. The care that had gone into them was obvious, not a stroke out of place, every color chosen with laser like focus. And the colors chosen were not dark and grim. They reflected a happy mindset, blissfully so. This mood persisted even in the images that depicted gore and death.

The triumph of his hero matters more than the loss of life. It isn't as though he's showing actual people being killed, they're just scenery. Accents for what he really wants.

The death was a side note, the relationship with the dragon, who I assumed was Wendy, was what he was actually focusing on. She was what mattered to him.

Can tentatively conclude that he is using the person as a personal stand in.

I drew out the circle around the five paintings and sat myself in the middle of them. The activation phrase for what I was after had no specific spell. More of an idea.

Reading the story of an object or a person was something I did automatically. The magic circle was already mostly formed as I manifested it before me, orange lines curving into the air written in the language of my soul. But I needed something a bit stronger than that. More stable.

The basic circle was drawn. I reached out and added one line of text, then repeated it all around the inner edge of the circle.

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

And by that logic, five of them ought to give me a considerable amount to work with.

Amber light flooded the lines and letters I had drawn, activating the spell. And with them came the voice. I had heard only vague mutters of madness before. They were much more audible now, but just as disjointed. Overlapping. All heading in the same direction, but going everywhere. The words wrote themselves in the air and began to drift around me. Some in sharp, bold lines, others meandering here and there.

The artist's obsession had transferred clearly through the Windhue into the images. It was why Wendy, with her incredible sensitivity, had felt so ill at ease around them. Even without hearing what they had to say, she could barely stand to be near them. And hopefully, it would allow me to discern his true intent.

Morgana anchored herself firmly around the points we did know.

This person wanted Wendy. He had followed the pattern of a voyeuristic stalker that had gained the confidence to make contact, so far. But he had gone from no contact to sending something every day almost no matter where we could hide Wendy. And we didn't know who he was or where he was located to try and force a de-escalation of the situation.

I sat there for a while, observing the paintings and thinking over the various details that made them unique to other works I had seen. Waiting for something to bite. Something to help guide my thoughts...

They fit a certain aesthetic. A wild one. Primitive if not for the magic involved in their creation and the sheer variety of colors used. But the medium didn't do the fine paint justice. Why use the deerhide of all things? There was even still fur on it, so it can't have been a failed attempt at making parchment.

To provide warmth.

But they weren't for clothing. These were clearly a set, meant to be viewed together. And if they were meant to be worn, they wouldn't just be sent in their raw form. They would have been sewn into shape and then painted with the desired design.

They are complete and ready for their intended use.

Wall hangings. These were all meant to be the antiquated version of tapestries to preserve warmth inside a structure as well as provide decoration. Fiore didn't get very cold, though some climates to the North could get quite chilly. But modern building techniques would render a lot of their intended use moot. So why leave the fur and have a smaller surface area to work with?

The intended structure is not modernly built.

A hut or a tent then. A temporary structure, or something that wasn't built dominantly out of stone. Something you needed to put extra insulation in, so it had become a deliberate part of the culture. And hides had been used, not canvas, and not a woven tapestry because-

To prove his ability to hunt and provide.

All the pieces locked into place. The wall hangings, the venison, the alcohol, the gemstones, and who they were gifted to.

I had read about this in the scroll Roubul had given me of the Nirvit's history. It hadn't been something I focused on as much as other things, but it had been there. In my head, filed towards the back of my consciousness. Morgana pulled out the file now for perusal.

The facts of the case and my conclusions hovered before me, lining up in their own categories. And I wrote in the facts from my knowledge of the long dead tribe.

The groom-to-be would give gifts to his bride in the week leading up to their wedding that would stand in their future home. A portrayal of their life together. Things used in domestic settings, furniture or other household items. If the bride had a trade, the groom would make new tools for her, or assemble a workshop to demonstrate his willingness to support her in her endeavors. They also traditionally gifted a crib, or other items that would be used in the care of an infant.

The things that had been delivered to Simon were paralleled by the groom honoring his father by helping to provide food for the feast after their wedding. The alcohol was newly made and would age over the time it took for the couple to have their first child. The number of vessels sent was an indication of how many kids the couple wanted...And at least three had arrived every day for five days.

Then I turned my attention to the deviations from the historical facts. Because while the similarities were obvious, the deviations would be the most telling in how this stalker thought.

The dowry gifts to the 'father' were a stand out. The Nirvits did not typically use currency among themselves, and they certainly did not use it in any part of their wedding ceremony.

That only one type of gift was given to the 'bride'...In the proper spirit, the variety was as important as practicality. They may have the element of helping to preserve warmth inside a home, but they were largely meant as decoration. They had gotten it backwards. These kinds of things would have been given in an already established relationship. Once the necessities of life were provided for.

And there were no personal tools dedicated to the bride or their children. Just the paintings. The promise of their combined future was implied, rarely ever stated so blatantly. Promises they were making. They were akin to the vows of a modern wedding. Not illustrated scripts like these were.

And most notably, he was skipping the entire courtship period and jumping straight to the wedding. But the preparation this would have taken, said this had been in motion for a while now...

It has been.

The soft whisper from my closest, entirely literal, friend led me on to another section of obsessional mental illnesses. A swarm of vague, lingering dangers that were hovering around this whole affair...One stood out though.

Erotomanic delusion.

Seeing evidence of love or romantic feelings in things entirely unrelated to truth or reality.

This had been building for a long time...And the danger was it was now approaching the end of his self imposed time limit. A courtship he had been dictating for who knows how long.

It's all about him. The fantasy he feels entitled to.

I waved my comparisons to the side. I spoke my conclusions aloud, letting the words be written in amber light before me.

"This man had a brief interaction with Wendy, perhaps not even a direct one, that made him fixate on her. Maybe he was just a fan at first. But something triggered him to go further and dive deeper. Cannot speculate on what or why until we have further information."

A down space, a new paragraph.

"The level of detail in the painting and the use of materials involved suggest he is mature. At least in his late 20's to early 30's, he is patient and has successfully gained access to a notable Stellan magical artifact for extended periods of time to create the wall hangings he sent to Wendy."

I used my pen to scribble a note that this meant he was either from Stella or had spent a considerable amount of time there.

"I've cited Wendy in my essays on Nirvit culture. Due to her unique life's circumstances, she's actually experienced it from the original source and it makes for a powerful citation. He heard that it was something she valued. His drive to feel close to her made him look further."

The trick about this spell setup was I had to keep things just vague enough that it could apply to a wide variety of people and backgrounds. The words that related to the pictures I was using as anchors for this half step scrying. Not an exact image, but a character profile, An outline that could be held over everyone to narrow our suspect pool. I pulled over my analysis of the Nirvit ancient traditions and the similarities to what had been happening in the last week or so.

"He learned rudimentary Nirvit traditions and this kindled a false sense of intimacy with the object of his fantasy. This sense built and developed until he genuinely believed that they had been actively courting one another. Eventually, he built up his nerve to take the final step: marriage."

Another note flashed from my pen to annotate my report: What had this guy done to build up his confidence to finally approach Wendy? He would have needed to watch her very closely, found some way to interact with her without risking her rejecting him...And doing so without getting on anyone's radar that whole time. That part was underlined, twice.

"He initiated contact on February 3rd, X789."

A copy of the image of the first wall hanging was added with a tap of the finger.

"An opening gift for the week-long preparations for the wedding ritual, and a dowry portion to her surrogate father. No witnesses could name the courier." I called a mental map out of my head and projected it onto another section of my report. I placed markers where the two gifts were delivered. Wendy's clinic, and the guild hall.

"February 4th through 6th, sequential gifts of the same nature to both original parties." More markers were dropped, the other four images were added.

That he could find Simon wasn't the issue. He had never tried to hide his location. He couldn't go into hiding because he had to handle the management of the guild. (Everyone else still had to work after all, even if people were ready at the drop of a hat to declare war on whoever was doing this and damn the consequences.) And because he couldn't lobby for us to take charge of the investigation from hiding.

But Wendy we moved a lot and put her behind increasingly large and all encompassing wards. She went from under surveillance at the guild hall, to locking down at home, to spending the night with Porliyusica! And still, every day no matter where she was: a new painting appeared. She hadn't slept in days.

"A decoy was crafted in house, maneuvered with assistance from Lamia Scale to allow a withdrawal to a safehouse."

Reedus normally used paint as his medium, and he had been practicing on using other substances other than himself or art canvas. Laki had been able to create a life size replica of Wendy with her Wood Make magic. Reedus brought it to life with his art, quite literally. And Sherry manipulated it with her Doll magic to let us smuggle Wendy to our second hall outside of the city which I had heavily warded to be safe and secure for scenario's just like this one. And this had apparently worked to keep the stalker from locating her as the painting had appeared near the Doll Magic decoy.

"Wendy was placed into protective custody within guild jurisdiction. Success of this endeavor suggests Stalker has means of long distance visual surveillance, but limited close range or personal identifying magic." Visual, he could watch her but not closely enough to catch the switch right away. In the best case scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference and we could pursue the investigation without worrying about Wendy being targeted or harmed. But even in the worst case...

Voyeur types didn't do confrontations. But they did get angry if they were denied the object of their obsession. So if he caught on, he would be forced to break his pattern. And how he broke it, could give us another clue as to who he was and how to find him.

It was a calculated gamble, one the Rune Knights had sanctioned.

"Detailed analysis of the subject included." I put in the remaining conclusions I had come to about the stalker's background.

I then pulled back and highlighted points of interest that could be used to locate him.

"The level of detail in the paintings suggests that this has been several years in the making. All are made by the Windhue. Access to this artifact is restricted. Obtaining a list of those who could have used it from Stella will give us an initial suspect pool to cross reference with our other information."

The locality of the fruit used to make the wine. The appraisal of the gems and coins. They would give us more leads. More ways to pare down the eventual list.

I gave everything one last review. Morgana made some key points niggle in the back of my mind...

The Windhue.

The animalistic image of the dragon that was supposed to be Wendy.

The sharp edged near brutality of some of the art work.

The children.

These facts rolled around in my head, like marbles, running around a track. Until they fell into place.

The Windhue was usable by anyone. And it had utterly dominated the creation process of our evidence. Leaving only its imprint behind and next to nothing about the actual artist.

The dragon's image. This guy wanted power. And he saw Wendy as a way of getting that power.

The style and what was depicted: He was looking at the more recent history of the Nirvit's, their pinnacle near Empire status before their downfall, not the peaceful years I had focused on in my study.

The wine barrels. One for each child...

He's not a wizard. There was no magical signature to leave. He's just mentally disturbed person who got his hands on a magic artifact. And he wants to be the father of a new Nirvit tribe with dragon ancestry.

The patriarch did hold a lot of authority over the spouse and children...And someone who craved power but was not born in a position to acquire it naturally...would see that role as the fulfillment of his every dream if he had a powerful wife and children to rule over.

He's so unremarkable that the Windhue could practically erase his presence on paintings he spent years on. So what if he's using another magical item to teleport them into place? To watch her? It wouldn't even need to be that powerful to cover his trail! It's why we can't track him!

Correct.

The same thing that let Mystogan be the threat and powerhouse that he had been was letting this guy practically get away with murder!

Not practically.

Oh that opens up a whole new slew of possibilities.

I brought everything together, clapping my hands briefly.

The spell ended and a sheaf of papers fell into my hands, containing my findings.

Not the usual story I tell. But hopefully useful nonetheless in finding him. Then I remembered I would have to sort through every murder or accidental death in the area that we were looking at once we had an area of operation. As well as ascertain the location of every magical item capable of scrying long distance and teleporting non-sentient items over undescribed distances.

OK, time to hand this over and take a mental break.

I got up and stretched out my limbs, gathering up my book and the wall hangings.

Exiting the lock down room led me into a hustle of chaos and raised voices.

"Faerun!" Mest was approaching quickly and he was not happy. What happened? On instinct, I pointed behind me.

"I've been in this room for the last two hours, it wasn't me!"

He instead grabbed me in a tight hug, relief washing over me like a warm mist.

"There's a letter and-"

My magic seized what he had seen.

The doll we had made of Wendy. Torn up in the extreme, missing an arm, face mutilated and otherwise ruined. A folded letter was pinned to its chest with such force the dagger had split Laki's craftsmanship almost clean in half.

Written on it in pigs blood:

Where is she?

But the letter...was addressed to me.