"May have been blessed by Shar at one point; but it's cursed alright, no two ways about it." Gale said, confirming the ring's qualities.

"Aye, blessed by Shar seems like the long way of saying cursed." Willow remarked, half distracted in thought. She was still thinking of Arabella making the trek to their camp; and of whatever fate Arabella's parents may have encountered here.

"Ho! I thought such judgements were beyond you. Shadowheart will not approve of that barb." The smirk was audible in Astarion's tone.

"Disapproval would come only if she were told, hm? What she doesn't hear can't be held against me. Besides, she is aware I have some...uh, reservations on her faith. But as I told her when we first met," Willow glanced up to Gale then over to her other companions, "There is much I do not know, and faith is a personal matter."

Astarion feigned interest in a dark stain on a nearby mattress and nightstand. Karlach nodded curtly, crossing then uncrossing her arms.

It was a foolish choice, idling in the House of Healing; but something about the ring stood out to the wizard and the young druid. It matched a ring in the graveyard, on the armored skeletal remains slumped against a tree.

The group stood in the eerie hospital, the smell of decades of rot and stagnancy initially so strong as to cause all four to recoil as if struck when Astarion opened the door. It had scarcely been twenty minutes since they entered. One of the undead nurse attendants lay dead again, on the floor thirty feet back.

"Great, so we've discovered the Sharran and her husband cared for each other and both died, probably horribly, given how everything in this town is riddled with horror. Can we move on?" Astarion's patience was nearly as thin as the light filtering in through the broken, grimy windows up above.

Gale handed the ring to Willow; Willow considered it for a moment then stooped and placed it back in the skeletal husband's hand. She took the diary pages and tucked them under the other hand. Neither item should be taken from the man's remains. Willow felt certain in life that the man had been treated harshly enough that taking anything more than the recollection of the story he'd written down was inviting trouble. Even before she asked Gale to study the Sharran wedding ring in his hand.

Gods, she was tired of Reithwin Town. It was more than the corruption of the earth here that bothered her, though as a druid it was hard to ignore the unnatural severity of the landscape, its malicious feel, and the ever-present evidence that hundreds of innocent folks were trapped, corrupted, and died in this place. Thinking about it too long at camp the first night had made Willow's mind buzz like a disturbed hive. A hive, that true to nature, had a parasite lurking in it, whiling away time before it grew into an irrepressible problem.

What got to Willow was the nature of the betrayal the townsfolk experienced. Betrayal from the leaders of the town, then their neighbors, then down to their own selves as the shadows descended on them and corrupted their loves, their pride, their being. Willow thought back to the discussions of her circle on the nature of were-creature curses.

They had preyed on each other before their ends.

The thought was jarring that night in camp, it was jarring again now. This town felt like it was a were-creature infecting hundreds at a time. From speaking with Jaheira and her Harpers, as well as Halsin, the only silver to cure this town was killing Ketheric Thorm. The toll house was dealt with. From the local Harper reports that meant there were a handful of other Thorm relatives to find. Killing them seemed unlikely to help; but it also certainly seemed like it would not hurt chances of dealing with the man himself when the time to face Moonrise Towers came.

The sound of movement and clanking of metallic objects caused all four heads to snap to the far end of the room. A mildly muffled scream followed by the tones of a lecturing voice seemed to barely come through a set of closed wooden doors. The voice speaking seemed a way off, but the group dropped into crouches and moved as quietly as possible toward the sound.

Astarion reached the doors first, motioning that they were unlocked. He drew his short sword and dagger. Karlach put a hand up to her great ax, a flash of teeth showed her eagerness. Willow quickly reached over and patted Gale on the back, quietly muttering the words to cast Darkvision on him.

"Fuck this place. What's the plan?" Karlach whispered, barely audible over the sizzle and hum of the infernal engine in her chest.

Another muffled yelp came through the door, much clearer than before. It was followed by the other voice, thin, with a coarseness like sand.

"That is why sisters, there is the need to practice. . .If your wielding of the scalpel, or trepan is not a demonstration of your faith . . . Not so. . . then how could they ever be an extension of Shar?" the voice lectured, words washing out where the sounds of movement made them unintelligible.

Willow leaned in toward Karlach, Astarion and Gale.

"We need to know what we're up against, and how many people are in there. Any cover or layout we can work with or avoid." Willow looked at Astarion, he was looking pleasantly at his hand where he was weighing the balance of his dagger. His impatience from moments ago turned into a readiness to make his dagger someone else's problem.

"Say no more darling, that's hardly a challenge." Astarion gave a quick wolfish grin. With a fluid motion he was through the doors and in full shadow.

"Karlach, you and Gale slip in after Astarion reports back", Willow whispered, "Stay together; Gale, do as you see best, hopefully we aren't about to walk into multiple innocents penned up. I'm hoping there's-"

"Room enough to maneuver so I am not sharing my talent for the arcane with the innocent? Yes, I hope so as well." Gale whispered. A moment passed; the doors creaked slightly.

"There's four of those undead nurses, and a truly deranged looking puppet of a surgeon gathered down in the well of an operating theatre-"

"Fuck! Fangs, didn't see you come back. Nicely done." Karlach started, her eyebrows going up to the heavens but a smile curling along her lips.

"Oh, and they're about to operate on a very unhappy looking fool on a gurney. No other living souls to spot. Plenty of blood on the floors and frankly, everywhere else, to explain why living people might be hard to find here. Shall we?" Astarion mimed a deep bow.

"Shit. Same plan: quietly Gale, Karlach together. Astarion stick to the shadow-"

"Eeeughmmph!" The unwilling patient's stifled screech cut Willow's thoughts short; those exasperated sounds of pain coming from the lecture hall needed answering.

Willow bristled, shooting a dark look toward the doorway. She gave each companion a look whispering, "Quietly, quickly and hopefully we're unexpected guests."

It was a somewhat novel approach. Willow had never tried to call lightning inside a building, but the vaulted dome of the operating theatre had made her picture the roiling clouds easily and her mood was stormy enough to fill the space.

"Perurere!"

Willow pulled down; her arms coming together, wrist to wrist, elbow to elbow in front of her face and a hearty crack of thunder followed the silver forked tongue of lightning down to four of the figures below. Their cries expressing an element of surprise as well as pain and anger.

But importantly it had worked- they were away from the gurney and the man on it. Astarion's description of the surgeon was too apt by half. Willow assumed he must be the one named on the plaque outside, Malus Thorm. He looked like a malevolent doll with odd proportions and metallic accoutrements, his mouth a sinister sneer. He was half a surgical tool himself, blades as fingers on each hand; his legs disjoined, elongated with metallic joints bent the wrong way, gore and rot from head to foot. Malus's black glass eyes snapped up to Willow.

The undead nurses twisted their heads back and forth seeking their foe. They immediately found Willow. Rolling into the anger she felt, Willow dropped to the ground, a large owlbear roared and chirped from the top of the stairwell in her place. Eager to meet her opponents Willow leapt in a great arc down to the operating floor, almost falling flat in the slick of blood on the tile. In her hulking new form she was a half-step from the nurses and Malus.

A flash of silver followed by a wet thud and a haughty scoff from behind one of the nurses let Willow know Astarion was nearby. The nurse's shriek and crumpling form told her Astarion had found just the right area to strike. Willow caught a whirl of his cloak before a split second later Astarion was gone again. Further up, behind the half wall and pillar at the top of the stairs Karlach's energizing yell rang through the theatre. The sound of crossbow bolts whizzing through the air was punctuated nicely with two quills standing out on the torso of a nurse. She could hear Gale casting something and looking up saw the glow of his Mage Armor out of the corner of her eye.

The fight began in earnest as Malus and the nurses readied themselves. Willow saw her opening and reared up, slamming her front paws down with heft. The lightning answered her call and tore down onto the doctor and the nearby nurses. The figure on the gurney was startled but unharmed, though clearly in distress.

A nurse swung around Willow's form and began running to the stairs. Willow turned with her, a quick swipe of her paw and the nurse stopped in her tracks, turning back towards Willow. The nurse's mouth opened and a blood-curdling shriek assailed Willow's ear. Willow shook herself and chirped back.

Heh, easy prey.

Karlach began to bolt down the stairs, throwing herself into the fray and swinging deftly with her great ax. The nurse with a scalpel took the ax to her hip and began screaming at Karlach.

"Oh, shut it!"

A blinding hot prick on the back of her neck pulled Willow 's attention away. The recoiling arm of Malus pulled away with a vivid red syringe held aloft.

"Thank you, sister, just what the patient needed. The effects should be near immediate, even for a beast of such bulk." The voice didn't match the glee it expressed, sandy and worn as if used too much, or too little. Malus tossed the syringe back to his assistant.

Heat and pain radiated from Willow's neck, and a sickly cold burn began to take root. The owlbear was a hearty creature but it was not immune to poison. The small storm cloud above dissolved as Willow realized the pain had snapped her concentration.

What a foolish choice, turning my back on this...thing. I can't pull any magic while in this form. I can feel the cold spreading, but this doesn't feel right...

Willow raised her large paw to swipe down at Malus and found herself unsteady on three legs, and her paw felt too heavy to control its path. The cold sensation was burning with each muscle she used and seemed to be increasingly more painful. Her claws came down too far wide and slow to hit the surgeon.

Nevermind, again. I'll catch him this time.

Again, Willow raised a heavy paw, and connected with nothing but the floor. The muscles in her neck and shoulders began to shiver as if she was too cold. The pain spiked and began to push in on her temples. Her sight blurred. Willow shook herself and pooled a warm feeling to her chest, healing a small bit.

Gods, this isn't what I'd hoped we'd find.

It had been a long day. Night? The eerie barely crepuscular landscape and sky had really thrown Willow. After the toll house they'd taken a brief rest, just enough to tend to her worst wounds and regain her wildshapes. The others had fared far kindlier in the fight.

At least Karlach got back to her full vigor. Gale's no worse for wear. Astarion I'm sure will be fine.

A loud series of pops and the splintering of wood up above the theatre's tile flooring snapped Willow back to the fight. Karlach was certainly taking the fight to the undead attendants. Two of them wavered on their bare feet, the smell of rot trailing them. They had quickly outstripped Willow's notice, it unsettled her. She hooted with minor indignity.

How dull am I now?

Gale was backing Karlach with a volley of firebolts. A bookshelf nearby was in splinters and flames. Willow eyed Malus.

"To me my aides! A trepan for the patient!" Malus cried, flourishing his unnatural wrists. The sharp edges of his fingers scything together in a weird snap of fingers.

His remaining nearby assistant readily handed over the cruel corkscrew of a trepan before shrieking at Willow. The smell of rot staggered Willow, she was losing ground quickly to this poison.

Willow began to feel herself slipping out of the owlbear's form. The sharp cold persisted, pushing in on her mind and body. In a futile attempt to focus herself and feel grounded the words of her mentor came back to her; distorted and fading, she heard them again.

"Accept the seasons. Know that we are the harvest; what can we hope for? The mercy of the Harvester..."

Willow let herself linger on her mentor's voice. Even distorted, it felt as warm as it had in the small garden where Willow had initially heard her speak many years ago.

Adia had been a warm and constant presence for the druids. Willow adored her lectures as a new druid and eager student. Adia was a slim but hale halfling woman of several centuries. She proved herself before Silvanus and Chauntea, earning the boon of a much longer lifespan after her many decades of service and study of the natural world and druidic arts. Willow remembered how easy it was to forget Adia's age when her mentor smiled after her jokes. It was like walking into the morning sunshine and feeling invigorated to try something new.

"...It is easy for me to drone on, after all you might think that the mercy of the Harvester is that she hasn't come for me yet! But there will be a day, Willow. Chauntea will walk up to me and grasp me by the arm, as an old friend might, then I am bound for the Mother's Garden. I will arrive at a place as I have here, surrounded by loving and devoted friends of all sorts. So too will you when it is your time... it is my sincerest prayer you will not see the Mother's Garden for many more years. Though I know you are a quick study and impatient student of nature, eager to walk in the shades of the garden. Take your time here! Learn all you can of the growing world. Find strength in the cycles of nature around you. Life, death. Growth, bloom, rot, renewal. The wheeling of the stars overhead. Remember you are a follower of the Harvester, She is everything; life, death and all the in between."

Willow growled and pulled herself back. Refreshed in the sound of Adia's voice and wisdom Willow sharpened her mind and leveled a look at Malus. Willow wasn't sure how long she had been inattentive, focused on her inner world, but clearly it had been a moment. Gale was down in the operating theatre, back-to-back with Karlach, a Witchbolt connected to Malus. Karlach was hefting the ax out of the shoulder of the attendant nurse, a bone saw dropping from her newly dead hand. Astarion was visible nearby with a gash on his cheek. Another nurse was down, sprawled on the floor behind him. Astarion was glaring at Malus, Malus appeared to be glaring back; a sickled hand raised in preparation for a strike.

Willow saw her chance at Malus' back and reached out with heavy taloned paw. She felt it connect to the top of his shoulder. Willow roared and tore down with enthusiasm. The surgeon turned quickly in riposte. Whatever the syringe held it no longer hurt Willow. She was beginning to burn with a hot sensation. It felt like fuel.

Malus sneered at her.

"How quick to rebound beast. How ready to see yourself to slaughter." Malus raised his hand, blades weakly gleaming in the grimy light. His arms surged out unnaturally fast and long. A swipe caused Willow to lose her owlbear shape, the second swipe across her throat and chest knocked Willow back, choking.

Gods, no. I'm not done. Let me find my steel beats his.

Willow felt her wounds. Her body rang with hurts, this was surely going to be hard to manage without Shadowheart to help her in the moment. Willow felt the drain of her arcane prowess and the aches of injuries after the fights in the yard outside the hospital since arriving in this place. To Willow this was a microcosm of the Hells. Bleeding heavily and breathing ragged, Willow pulled the long sword off her back.

Sing my blade. Sing so that Adia hears you and knows I stand in this place. Sing that we are overwhelming for our foes. We are the tide on rock, the sheering wind on the mountain.

Willow spared a thought, grateful that she'd found the gloves which gave her a natural feel to the heft and handle of the longsword. She readied the blade to sing for her and her companions on its next swing.

Astarion saw the opportunity and swiftly drove forward, blades raised, Malus cringed at the raking of the short sword and dagger down his sides. Karlach yelled and finished the nurse before her, cleaving her damn near in twain in her rage.

Malus swung down hard, but his hand merely bounced back, repelled by Astarion's quickly cast Shield. Gale approached Malus, his hair in a swirl he extended his arms, as if in a terrible game with the lightning to keep it from himself. Gale was winning- the Witchbolt was leashed to Malus and he was clawing at it as it ripped toward him. Malus convulsed and screeched. Gale grew pale at the look Malus threw to him in the aftermath.

Willow looked to the blade in her hands.

Sing!

The blade gave a heartening sound, it was the cry of a hawk in descent to prey, the sound of a wave slamming into the shore, it reverberated in the theatre's space, and Willow saw the vigor it gave her friends.

Astarion gave a quick shake of his head, the silver and white curls catching the light. His red eyes stood out as he pressed his advantage and dove into Malus' back. Malus snarled and yelled at the pale elf. Karlach seized her moment and blustered into Malus; she swung hard, the great ax singing in tune to Willow's longsword and hopes. The great ax connected to Malus' torso, a dark bloom of putrescence spilling out. Malus seized up, his long arms and strange joints at odds. It reminded Willow of a spider curling into itself, dying.

In the space of peace afterwards Willow saw Karlach sheath her weapon and help Gale up from his slump, the Witchbolt being sundered had pushed him backwards onto slick bloody tile. The wizard had given considerable effort to the fight, a faint sheen of sweat was on his brow. There was a worrying rend to his leg, likely from one of the nurses. Willow pushed herself to move, a healing hand ready to assist her friend.

"Ah, just what a wizard in need might want. Thank you, Willow." Gale sighed after the spell soaked into his thigh.

"Oh, how nice to see the cozy wizard is kept comfortable." Astarion remarked, predominately flecked with blood that wasn't his own. Willow noticed the gash on his cheek again.

It was not serious, but it stood out on the marble pallor of his skin. Willow fought down the urge to cup his cheek and heal it.

"Here, Te curo." Willow croaked, snapping her thumb across her other fingers.

Astarion crossed his arms and Willow noticed he flexed his hand as if staying it from checking the line on his cheek that had healed up.

Karlach was freeing the distressed man on the gurney. He pulled out of Karlach's grasp shrieking and began to run off, insensate to her offer of help.

"Oi! We were helping you! Head to Last Light, you know it? Fine, run off you daft man." Karlach finished weakly watching the direction he ran. Gale and Astarion had begun looking through the remnants of the fight for useful items. The two of them had turned over a bench that had been upset during the fight. Gale found a large leather pack that held a richly colored wooden lute as well as a few smaller trinkets.

"Hmm," Gale turned the instrument over in his hands. "A.C is carved here, just on the side of the fingerboard. Seems this belongs to our febrile acquaintance."

"We're a way from reaching camp-I'm sorry but this place," Willow began to say to her friends. Her breath was still shallow and fast, she sat down on one of the wooden theatre's benches. She tried to take a deep breath. It was a scratching sound and the burning feeling in Willow grew. Willow could hear a faint humming.

Gale and Astarion turned from their surveying of the battle to where Willow sat. Astarion cocked his head, looking somewhat confused at Willow. Gale looked worn; his robe slightly askew from the fight.

I feel too light, too warm.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Karlach's smiling eyes looked down on Willow with concern. The shadow Karlach cast standing over her drifted over Willow, the minor cool it brought was most welcome.

"Too hot, the needle he-" Willow gestured to Malus's body her words fighting to get out.

"Right-o, that's not good." Karlach dropped her pack to the ground and pulled out a small bottle, wrapped in hemp and stopped with a glass top.

"Nasty poke, eh?" Karlach cast a quick glance at Gale and Astarion after handing off the bottle. Willow could have sworn she saw the elf shrug from the corner of her eye. She looked to Gale, who had his hand to his chin, clearly in thought.

"Willow, I hate to suppose this, mostly because I've seen you take the head off an elf when need be," Gale began in careful tones, shooting her a pensive look, "But you seem half here. It's almost like you're, oh I don't know, straining for your normal font of magic?"

Willow finished the thick herbal infusion Karlach handed her.

Thistles, always thistles. Can no apothecary make a decent antidote without damned thistles?

"You aren't wrong." Willow smirked, half because of the thistle aftertaste and half at the thought of the fight with Nere. It had been a hard-won fight, but the deep gnomes had been freed.

"But there's more to it than that. Perhaps at camp we can speak more?" Willow hoped Gale would allow her some rest, she felt so drained and wanted to have a better grasp of herself before speaking with him on his line of questioning.

This is really a conversation for later my friend. When my head isn't swimming and there's the comfort of a fire or table to sit at, not an abandoned nightmare of a healing house.

As far as Willow could reason they needed to get back to Last Light and get Art fully awake. That mystery really intrigued Willow- his condition and history could help them immensely if Art could tell them more. The lute they just recovered here seemed to be the best bet. After that Halsin would hopefully be amenable to being more involved with the group on a longer-term arrangement. Willow was hopeful having another druid as knowledgeable as Halsin could be a great benefit. The fact that he was a pleasant and sagacious spirit with plenty of physicalities the group lacked was also a consideration Willow weighed.

"Certainly, I know I could do for a rest. Some of us I'm sure might enjoy food and a bath as well." Gale nodded to Willow as he spoke.

"Let's finish finding what we can here for supplies. Then to camp we go. We'll return to make sure things here are put to rest afterwards." Willow eyed the bodies of the undead nurses and Malus on the ground. She thought on the best way to stack the bodies to burn them. Willow was confident with rest she and Karlach could haul them and set things up to ensure they burned through enough to prevent arcane tampering and perhaps give them the dignity of a makeshift burial. But for now, they just needed to get back to camp.