Lyrth followed Harry through to the new challenge. They passed through a great hall first, the sort that smelled of history and betrayal. His eyes drank in the gilded carvings and glittering chandelier that leant the room a whimsical glow. Lyrth wondered what they all meant. Surely something important, something bards would sing about.
Back home, in Faerun, he had always loved the mystery and the glamour of places such as this. How many hours had he spent in the library at Mordesai, examining the mosaics, in awe of whoever had painstakingly laid each glass tile in place? He scowled. If only they weren’t in such a rush, maybe he’d have asked Felix to share those stories. Aware that he had fallen behind a bit, he rushed through a large gate at one end of the room after Harry.
Lyrth looked down to find snow coating the ground in powdery waves. He smiled to himself, listening absent mindedly as Felix highlighted the dangers of the maze they were about to enter. A maze in a maze. How peculiar. It seemed to all be pretty straightforward obstacles; monsters and magic and moving walls. Lyrth was more interested in the runes that covered the walls of this strange room. They felt hauntingly familiar, the slanting curves and sharp dips tantalizingly similar to some language he knew. He wondered if- “Anyone else have an opinion on splitting up?”
He blinked. Perhaps he should have paid better attention. Splitting up? Isn’t that the worst possible choice to make on an adventure? He thought to himself, wishing that Vendryck could counsel him from within his mind. But Harry and Felix were right, they couldn’t afford to lose everybody in one go. Better that someone went home, rather than no one at all. Better that someone was you. A malicious voice at the back of his mind whispered. He scowled, pushing it away. He had more honor than that.
“Better that someone goes home, rather than no one at all,” He said, forcing his tone to take on a carefree sound, “If we must split up, then we had better do it.”
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