Authors note. I was asked at one point to make a prequel to one of the other works I did imber packed. Here it is starting at the very beginning.

Prologue 

Avery hit the cell floor hard, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she pushed herself up on one elbow. She leaned back against the cold, damp wall, letting out a low, derisive laugh as the guards glared down at her.

"What’s wrong, boys?" she asked, her tone laced with mockery. "Not used to someone this headstrong?"

One of the guards sneered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "You’re lucky we don’t string you up for the shit you pulled."

Avery smirked, wiping the blood from her lip with the back of her dragon-scaled hand. The sharp claws at the end of her fingers glinted ominously in the dim torchlight as she combed them casually through her tangled hair. Despite her battered state, she didn’t flinch, didn’t fight. Instead, she leaned into the moment with a twisted sort of amusement.

"Bias much?" she said, her grin widening. "For the hundredth time, I didn’t do it. At least, not this time. Whatever it is you think I did, I’ve been a very good warlock lately. Following orders, staying in line, being an upstanding citizen or whatever passes for one in this shit hole of a town."

The guards bristled, their knuckles white against the bars, but Avery wasn’t done. She tilted her head, the grin never leaving her face. "And besides," she added with a shrug, "I like it here. So much excitement. So much intrigue. Nothing ever happens here. Really keeps me on my toes while I’m between contracts."

Her words were deliberately barbed, aimed at riling up the headstrong, trigger-happy guard standing closest. His face reddened with barely restrained anger as he slammed the iron door shut with enough force to rattle the hinges.

"Maybe a few days in there will teach you to keep that mouth shut," he spat. "Enjoy your cellmate. The blasted drunk."

The guards’ heavy boots echoed down the corridor, leaving Avery alone in the dimly lit cell. She chuckled to herself, rolling her shoulders and testing the sting of bruises beneath her ribs. She glanced at the far corner of the cell, where a figure lay sprawled, snoring loudly and reeking of ale.

"Fantastic," she muttered under her breath, flexing her clawed fingers. "Just me, a drunk, and four walls. To be honest, I’ve slept in worse places."

From the shadowy corner of the cell, a groggy voice slurred into the stale air. "Well, hello. They brought me a cellmate."

Avery glanced over, her sharp eyes settling on the disheveled figure sprawled against the wall. The man rubbed his eyes and blinked at her, his face splitting into a lopsided grin. His breath reeked of stale ale, and his clothes looked like they’d seen more bar floors than daylight.

Avery tilted her head, studying him with faint curiosity. "What the hell are you doing here, wan?"

The drunk squinted at her, his expression twisting into one of exaggerated confusion. "Who the hell is wan?"

Avery raised a brow, her lips curving into a wry smirk. "Sir, you look just like a friend of mine I used to travel with. Could’ve sworn it was you."

"Not wan," he shot back, shaking his head dramatically. "Name’s… uh… Johan. Yeah. Totally different guy."

"Uh-huh. Close enough," Avery replied, leaning back against the cold stone wall. Her dragon-scaled hand tapped idly against her knee, the sharp claws clicking softly as she sized him up.

Johan stretched, letting out a bored yawn, and glanced around the dim, damp cell. "So," he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm, "are they planning to keep us cooking in here for a while? ‘Cause if they are, we might as well pass the time. How about a fun story, huh?"

Avery tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smirk. She recognized the tactic a bored drunk fishing for entertainment but decided to play along. "A fun story? You think I’m the storytelling type?"

Johan, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on, I’m sure a noble and powerful adventurer like yourself has seen their fair share of things. Wild battles, lost treasure, maybe even a dragon or two? Or are you going to tell me you’re one of those mysterious, brooding types?"

Avery chuckled, the sound low and sharp. "Oh, I’ve got stories," she said, her gaze distant for a moment, memories flickering just out of reach. "The question is: are you sober enough to understand them?"

Johan laughed, a loud and unabashed sound that echoed through the cell. "Probably not, but that’s half the fun, isn’t it?"

"All right, Johan. Since we’re stuck here, I’ll humor you," Avery said, leaning forward slightly. Her tone shifted, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you my stories aren’t exactly fun."

The drunk leaned closer, his grin widening as he motioned for her to continue. "Hit me with your best shot, adventurer."

Avery’s smirk deepened. If nothing else, this would kill some time.

Chapter One: The Deep Roads 

The door to the small hut burst open with a crash, sending a rush of cold air swirling inside. Jonathan stumbled in, his face pale and his breathing ragged, panic radiating from every movement. "We have to go!" he blurted, his voice urgent and trembling. "No time to ask why we just need to leave. Hit the Deep Roads and don’t look back."

Liliana stood in the center of the room, cradling their young daughter against her chest. The toddler whimpered, her small fists clutching at her mother’s shirt as if she could sense the tension in the air. Liliana’s sharp, green eyes darted to her husband, narrowing as they fell on his trembling hands. One of them was hastily wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, the crude cloth doing little to staunch the flow.

"What did you do, Jonathan?" she demanded, her voice low and measured, the kind of calm that spoke of suppressed fury. "Why are we running?" She stepped closer, her child’s soft cries muffled against her shoulder. Her gaze locked on his hand, and she gently pried it from his side. When she unwrapped the bandage, her breath hitched.

His pinky and ring fingers were gone, the stumps crudely severed. Blood oozed sluggishly from the wound, dripping onto the floorboards. Liliana’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing as she reached out, her other hand glowing with a soft, green light. The bleeding slowed, then stopped entirely as her druidic magic wove through his injured flesh.

Jonathan exhaled shakily, gratitude flickering in his wide, fearful eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, but the words were hollow, burdened by the weight of what he was about to confess. "I… I borrowed money," he admitted, his voice cracking. "From someone else. To pay back the first guy. But they found out, and now they're even angrier. They " He hesitated, glancing down at his mutilated hand. "They took my fingers as a... temporary payment. But that’s not enough. They’re not good people, Liliana. We need to go. I can’t I can’t pay them back. There’s no way."

Liliana’s face remained impassive, but the storm brewing in her emerald eyes was impossible to miss. She adjusted her grip on their child, who had gone silent, watching her father with wide, tear-filled eyes. "What have you gotten us into, Jonathan?" Liliana asked, her voice eerily calm despite the fury seething beneath it. She couldn’t let her anger show not in front of the child but it burned, threatening to spill over. "Who did you borrow from? How could you do this to us?"

Jonathan ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his gaze darting toward the window as if expecting someone to burst through at any moment. "It doesn’t matter who," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What matters is that we leave. Now. Before they come for more."

Liliana hesitated, her mind racing. The weight of Jonathan’s recklessness settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She looked down at her daughter, her innocent face pressed into her shoulder and made a decision. There would be time for anger later if they survived.

"Pack what you can carry," Liliana said finally, her voice steady and cold. "We’ll take the Deep Roads. But, Jonathan this is far from over."

Her words hung heavy in the air as the family scrambled to gather their things. The flickering light of the fire cast ominous shadows across the walls, its warmth doing little to ease the chill of dread that had settled over the small home. Outside, the wind howled, carrying with it the promise of danger. Whatever waited for them in the Deep Roads couldn’t possibly be worse than what was chasing them now.

Jonathan moved frantically, stuffing food and water skins into a worn backpack. His hands trembled as he grabbed a second bag, shoving blankets and spare clothes into it without care for order. He fixed a hand axe to his belt, his movements jerky and desperate.

Liliana worked with quieter efficiency, her calm exterior masking the storm brewing inside her. She packed spare clothes for their daughter, a few nappies, and as much food and water as her own bag could hold. Her fingers brushed against a small wooden panel beneath the cupboard, and she pulled it loose, revealing the stash of coins she’d squirreled away donations from her side work as a healer. She hesitated for only a moment before shoving the money into her pack. They would need it in Emberward, if they made it that far.

Rising, she turned to Jonathan, her emerald eyes narrowing as she swallowed her rising anger. "Jonathan," she said, her voice sharp and cutting. "When we get to Emberward, this this is over. You’re going to help me and your daughter get there, and then I never want to see you again."

Her words hit him like a blow. He froze mid-motion, his gaze darting to hers, but she pressed on, her tone unwavering. "I can’t keep doing this. The gambling. The luxuries we can’t afford. Wasting money, borrowing from mobsters and pirates. Who else was there to borrow from this time? The last people left would be " She stopped, her breath catching as realization dawned. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "No. You didn’t. The Moth."

At the mention of that name, Jonathan visibly paled. His face twisted in fear, and he looked like he might collapse then and there. His lips trembled, but no words came.

Liliana’s anger flared, and she slammed the cupboard shut with a force that made their daughter jump. "You idiot," she hissed, her voice low and furious. "I can’t believe you’d be that stupid. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. His gaze dropped to the floor, shame and terror written across his face. "I I didn’t have a choice," he stammered weakly. "I thought I thought I could handle it."

"Handle it?" Liliana’s laugh was sharp and bitter. "You’ve put us in the crosshairs of the most dangerous entity in Orzammar! The Moth doesn’t forgive, Jonathan. The Moth doesn’t forget. And now, because of you, we’re running for our lives with nothing but the clothes on our backs."

Jonathan shrank under her glare, his hands fumbling with the straps of the bag he held. "I’ll fix it," he muttered weakly, though the words carried no conviction.

"You’ll do no such thing," Liliana snapped. "You’ll get us to Emberward. That’s all. After that, you’re on your own. You’ve done enough damage."

Their daughter whimpered softly, breaking the tense silence, and Liliana’s anger momentarily gave way to the maternal instinct to soothe. She rocked the child gently, whispering reassurances before turning back to her husband, her expression hard once more.

"Get ready," she said coldly. "We’re leaving. Now."

Jonathan nodded numbly, the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him like the stone ceiling of the Deep Roads themselves. His hands trembled as he slung the bags over his shoulders, the straps digging into his skin. He didn’t meet Liliana’s gaze, the shame in his eyes too raw, too heavy to bear.

Liliana stood at the doorway, her daughter clutched tightly against her chest. The child had fallen silent, her wide eyes darting between her parents, sensing the gravity of the moment. The cold wind howled through the cracks in the small hut, carrying with it the chill of impending danger.

Without another word, Liliana turned and stepped out into the darkness. Jonathan followed, the cold biting at his face as the familiar world of the surface vanished behind them. Each step toward the entrance of the Deep Roads felt heavier than the last, the looming shadows swallowing them whole.

The Deep Roads were a testament to dwarven ingenuity, their sprawling network of tunnels still functioning as vital arteries connecting continents. Carved deep beneath the earth and even under the oceans, these ancient highways provided a safe, swift passage for those willing to brave their depths. With their rune craft and ancient magics, the dwarves had once turned these roads into marvels of efficiency, reducing journeys that would take months by sea to mere days underground. Even now, despite the passage of centuries, much of that old magic still lingered, keeping the roads operational.

But the Deep Roads were no longer the bustling, secure highways they once were. While still safer than the surface with its unpredictable weather and treacherous seas, they had become the domain of prowling bandits, lurking predators, and darker things that thrived in the shadows. The ancient rune wards still glowed faintly in places, but they were unreliable, and the forgotten traps left by the dwarves could just as easily catch the unwary as the intended intruders.

Despite the dangers, many still chose the Deep Roads for their travels, valuing the relative safety of the underground over the chaos above. For merchants, travelers, and the desperate alike, the Roads offered a perilous, yet crucial, lifeline between distant lands. Those who walked the endless stone corridors knew to stay vigilant, for while the Roads were safer than the surface, they were far from safe.

For Liliana and Jonathan, the Deep Roads were their only hope. The threats lurking in the shadows were real, but they were nothing compared to the relentless danger hunting them above.

Liliana took the lead, her steps deliberate as she entered the vast caverns that had been her home for the past few years: the dwarven city of Orzammar. The air here was heavy, carrying the faint metallic tang of stone and ancient forge fires. The streets, carved with meticulous precision, stretched wide and smooth, flanked by towering structures etched with runic patterns that glimmered faintly in the dim light.

She had once found solace here, in the warmth of Orzammar’s hearty dwarves. When she first arrived, seeking a new home, they welcomed her with open arms and honest smiles. Their hospitality had been a rare light in her life, a beacon of hope during her darkest days. The dwarves had shown her kindness when she needed it most, offering her a place among their tightly knit community in the vast, stone-hewn halls beneath the earth. She would never forget the sense of belonging they gave her a feeling she had craved for so long.

But now, all of it was overshadowed by the man trudging a few paces behind her: Jonathan.

Once, she had forced herself to love him for her daughter’s sake. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping romance; it was a mistake. One festive night at a local tavern, she had indulged too much. The hearty meat, the strong ale, the easy laughter it had all blurred together until she’d made a drunken wager. Jonathan had seemed harmless enough then, full of boisterous charm and wit. Nine months later, the product of that ill-advised gamble was in her arms, cooing softly, the only true good to come from the mess.

Feeling obligated, and believing it was the human custom to marry after such circumstances, Liliana unfamiliar with such traditions due to her elven heritage had tied herself to him. For a while, things were tolerable. While she carried their child, Jonathan had been a decent partner. He took care of her, fussing over every little thing as if it might harm the baby. She allowed herself to hope that perhaps she hadn’t made a mistake after all.

That hope didn’t last long.

Once the baby arrived, Jonathan’s reliability crumbled. He proved to be as useful as a broken wheel. No one in Orzammar would hire him not because he was human, but because he was, at his core, an idiot. With no skills and no discipline, he turned to gambling, his only true talent being the occasional lucky streak. But like all fools, he couldn’t stop there. Each fleeting success led to bigger risks, wilder bets, and deeper debts.

Jonathan’s recklessness escalated until he began borrowing money, first from one loan shark, then another. Each time, he spun a more desperate web of lies to cover his tracks. And then, inevitably, he made the one mistake no one in Orzammar could afford: he borrowed money from the Moth.

The Moth was no ordinary loan shark. Their name was whispered in hushed tones, spoken with the reverence and fear reserved for forces of nature. Rumors swirled that the Moth helped those in genuine need those on the brink, with no one else to turn to. But Liliana was no fool, and she knew better than to gamble with her daughter’s safety. Unlike her belligerent, reckless husband, she wouldn’t stake everything on a fleeting hope.

One thing was certain: if the rumors were true, the Moth wouldn’t help the foolish. Never the reckless. And certainly not the likes of Jonathan. Whatever lies he had spun to secure their money had been clever enough to slip through the cracks in the Moth’s carefully woven web at least for a time.

But the Moth was no fool, and Liliana knew it.

The Moth’s enforcers silent, unrelenting, and methodical began their investigation. They retraced Jonathan’s steps, visiting the other lenders he had duped. Layer by layer, they peeled back his lies, exposing the tangled web he had spun to cover his tracks. What they uncovered enraged them. Jonathan hadn’t just lied; he had conned everyone, weaving stories so elaborate and damning that no amount of apology or groveling could undo the damage.

The Moth’s fury was swift and decisive. They didn’t just demand repayment they wanted retribution. This was no longer about money alone; it was about pride, respect, and the example they needed to set. The Moth demanded not only the return of the funds Jonathan had borrowed but also compensation for every person he had conned along the way. The debt had ballooned into an impossible sum, and now, the full weight of Orzammar’s underworld bore down on them like a hammer against an anvil.

Their home was gone. Their safety was gone. Their lives hung by a fragile thread, and all of it was the price Jonathan had paid for his hubris.

Liliana’s jaw tightened as she adjusted her hold on the child, who cooed softly against her shoulder, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding her. Liliana had made one mistake with Jonathan, but she would not allow it to destroy her or her daughter. Again the only good thing to come from this whole mess

One thing was certain: they couldn’t make it far on foot. Not through the endless, labyrinthine corridors of the Deep Roads, where dangers both seen and unseen lurked at every turn. The darkness was alive with threats: prowling bandits, ancient traps, and the whispers of creatures that thrived in the void. They needed transport perhaps a caravan or a sturdy coach pulled by a beast of burden. Anything to shorten the perilous journey ahead. Alone, on foot, they wouldn’t last long.

Liliana’s sharp, green eyes scanned the bustling streets of Orzammar. Life carried on as if the world weren’t crumbling beneath her feet. Merchants haggled over wares, their voices rising above the clinking of coins and the rustle of goods. Travelers tightened their packs, preparing for journeys into the unknown. Children darted through the crowds, their laughter a bright contrast to Liliana’s grim reality.

Somewhere in this thrumming city, there had to be someone who could provide what they needed for the right price. Liliana’s resolve hardened as she pulled her daughter closer. Whatever it took, she would find a way to get them out. She would not let Jonathan’s foolish mistakes become her daughter’s downfall.

Her determination was ironclad. Whatever it took, Liliana would get her daughter to safety. Even if it meant dragging Jonathan, his mountain of debts, and his shattered pride every step of the way.

But darker thoughts began to seep into Liliana’s mind, unbidden and cold. Jonathan was useless in most respects a weight she had carried far too long. Yet, in the Deep Roads, where survival hinged on quick thinking and sacrifices, even he had his uses. A living meat shield. A distraction for the ravenous beasts that prowled the shadows.

She caught herself, a chill running through her. The thought was cruel, callous but she couldn’t shake it. Jonathan had brought them to this point, his mistakes threatening not just his life but hers and their daughter’s. If it came down to a choice between him and her child, there wouldn’t even be a hesitation.

Liliana exhaled slowly, steadying herself. She adjusted her grip on her daughter and forced her mind back to the immediate task at hand. Whatever her feelings about Jonathan, there was no room for doubt or distraction now. Their survival demanded focus, and she couldn’t afford to falter.

Part 3

It had been a few hours since they set out, the wagon creaking softly as it made its way through the endless stone corridors of the Deep Roads. Liliana sat comfortably in the back of the wagon, holding her daughter close. The baby nursed at her breast, her tiny hands resting against Liliana’s arm as she fed peacefully. Despite the weight of their circumstances, Liliana allowed herself a moment of calm, her focus entirely on her child.

Across from her, the hardened female dwarf who had spoken earlier sat with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes glaring daggers at the man trudging behind the wagon. Jonathan, hunched and visibly uncomfortable, kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his every step accompanied by the oppressive weight of his shame.

“Eyes down, slug,” the dwarf barked, her voice like grinding stone. “You don’t get to watch any longer.”

Jonathan flinched but didn’t argue, his eyes glued to the dirt path beneath his feet. The other dwarves riding in the wagon chuckled, their voices rough but warm as they exchanged jokes and jabs at Jonathan’s expense.

Liliana joined in, laughing with the group as the camaraderie grew. It felt good to laugh, to feel the weight of her burdens lift, even if only for a moment. “He’d probably trip over his own feet even without the shame weighing him down,” one of the dwarves quipped, earning a round of hearty laughter.

Another dwarf, leaning on a hefty hammer resting across his lap, grinned. “I’d say he could be a pack mule, but I’m afraid he’d lose the supplies halfway to Ember Ward.”

Liliana smirked, glancing over at Jonathan, who had the sense to remain silent. “You’d be right about that,” she said lightly, her tone amused. “He’s not reliable enough to carry his own pride, let alone anything useful.”

The dwarves erupted into more laughter, their voices echoing through the stone halls. Even the hardened female dwarf softened slightly, a faint grin tugging at her lips as she leaned back and relaxed.

Liliana felt a pang of guilt at the humor made at Jonathan’s expense but brushed it aside. He had earned every bit of their scorn, and she refused to let sympathy creep into her heart. Her priority was the baby in her arms, and for her sake, Liliana would keep her resolve strong.

As the wagon rolled onward, the laughter gradually gave way to quiet conversation. Liliana adjusted her daughter, the baby now drowsy and content, and looked ahead into the shadows of the Deep Roads. There was still a long journey ahead, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Jonathan jogged toward the front of the cart, his steps uneven and labored. His voice cracked with desperation as he tried to plead his case. “Please,” he called out, his eyes darting between the dwarves walking alongside the wagon. “I’m not asking for much just a chance to rest for a bit. I’ll do whatever you need, just let me ride for a while.”

The dwarves didn’t so much as glance in his direction. Their expressions remained stony, their focus on the path ahead. Occasionally, they rotated among themselves, taking turns riding in the wagon to rest their legs, but none of them offered Jonathan the same courtesy.

“Please,” he tried again, his voice growing hoarse. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m trying to make it right.”

Still, the dwarves ignored him, their silence louder than any words.

Liliana, seated in the back of the wagon, cradled her daughter and listened to Jonathan’s pleas without turning her head. Her face remained impassive, but a flicker of satisfaction passed through her eyes. This was his burden to bear, and she had no intention of lightening it for him.

One of the dwarves walking alongside the wagon, a burly man with a braided beard and a weathered axe resting on his shoulder, finally broke the silence. He glanced over his shoulder at Jonathan, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “Keep moving, slag. You don’t get a free ride. You earned every miserable step you’re taking.”

Another dwarf chuckled darkly, adjusting the straps of his pack. “You think we’re making this journey for fun? We’re here because of you. If you want pity, you’ll have to dig it out of the stone.”

Jonathan’s shoulders sagged, the harsh truth of their words hitting him harder than the exhaustion in his legs. His pleas faltered, and he dropped back to the rear of the wagon, his head hanging low.

The dwarves exchanged glances, their disdain for the man clear, but they didn’t press further. Their focus returned to the road, their steps steady and determined. They would see Liliana and her child to Ember Ward, but they owed nothing to the man responsible for this journey.

In the wagon, Liliana’s lips pressed into a thin line as she adjusted her sleeping daughter. Her heart felt no sympathy for Jonathan only relief that, for once, he was facing the consequences of his actions.

Time stretched onwards, the rhythmic creaking of the wagon lulling Liliana into a restless sleep. Her arms cradled her daughter protectively, the child’s soft breaths a rare comfort in the shadowy expanse of the Deep Roads.

A firm hand shook her shoulder, jolting her awake. One of the dwarves loomed over her, his expression grim. “Liliana, wake up. There’s something up ahead.”

Her mind snapped to alertness. “What is it?” she asked, her voice low and cautious.

The wagon rolled to a halt, and Liliana’s eyes widened as she looked down the highway. Stretched across the wide stone path was an amalgamation of figures from various races elves, dwarves, humans, even a towering half-orc. At their center stood a burly man, his arms crossed, his scarred face set in a grim expression.

He spoke a single word, his voice booming through the tunnel. “Halt.”

The group bristled as the wagon stopped, the dwarves exchanging uneasy glances. The man stepped forward, his eyes scanning the wagon until they settled on Jonathan. “We’re looking for the sniveling, worthless walking carcass known as Jonathan,” he growled. “Did you think you could skip out on what you owe and what you’re owed? We have eyes all over the city. You thought we wouldn’t notice you trying to run?”

Panic seized Liliana as she clutched her daughter closer. Her heart raced as the dwarves piled out of the wagon, forming a protective line in front of her. Axes and hammers were drawn, their steel glinting faintly in the low light of the rune-lit highway.

But then, something unexpected happened something Liliana wasn’t prepared for.

The burly man stepped closer, his intense gaze softening as he looked directly at her. Recognition dawned in his eyes, and his tone shifted. “Lady Liliana,” he said firmly, “you, your daughter, and your companions are safe. We just want the worm.”

Relief flooded her, nearly overwhelming her. She knew this man he was someone she had helped years ago, his face unmistakable. Liliana nodded faintly, her grip on her daughter loosening slightly.

The dwarves exchanged surprised glances but held their defensive line. Jonathan, however, began to tremble, his panic visibly mounting. Two of the bandits moved toward him, and Jonathan’s desperate screams echoed through the stone halls.

“No! No, please! You can’t do this!” he cried, stumbling back toward the wagon. His wide, terrified eyes darted around, searching for an escape. “You don’t understand I had no choice!”

Before anyone could react, Jonathan pulled something from his pack. The dwarves froze, their eyes widening in alarm. It was a compact, rune-etched device one of the most volatile explosives one could acquire without magic.

“Don’t do it, you idiot!” Bargery shouted, his voice filled with fury and fear. The others lunged to stop him, but Jonathan, driven by rage and sheer desperation, hurled the explosive forward.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The device spun through the air, glowing faintly with unstable energy. One of the bandits intercepted it mid-flight, trying to deflect it, but it fell just a few yards away from Jonathan. The glow intensified.

Liliana’s instincts took over. Without hesitation, she threw herself over her daughter, shielding the child with her body as the explosion erupted.

The force of the blast tore through the tunnel, a deafening roar of heat and stone. The ground beneath them shook violently as ancient rock splintered and gave way. Shouts and screams filled the air as the tunnel began to collapse, massive chunks of stone raining down.

Liliana felt herself lifted and thrown by the force of the explosion. Her body struck the ground hard, her head hitting stone with a sickening crack. Pain shot through her, but it was distant, muffled by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Everything was black. Time became meaningless moments, hours, or even days could have passed. Liliana didn’t know. She only knew that when she finally came to, her head throbbed, her body ached, and her lungs burned with the effort of breathing. Dust hung thick in the air, the dim glow of the rune lights flickering feebly in the shattered remnants of the Deep Roads.

Disoriented but driven by a singular need, Liliana looked around frantically. Her arms were empty.

Her daughter wasn’t there.

Panic surged through her, sharp and unbearable. Her heart raced as her voice came out in a low, trembling whisper, “No… no… no…”

It grew louder as she scrambled to her knees, her gaze darting wildly across the destruction around her. “No… no… NO. NO!” Her voice climbed in anguish, echoing through the cavern. “WHERE IS SHE? AVERY! WHERE’S MY BABY?”

Her screams were raw, piercing the air with unfiltered agony. The dwarves and bandits who had survived the blast stirred slowly, groaning as they assessed their own injuries, but none dared to approach her. Liliana was a force of nature now, her desperation fueling impossible strength as she began to tear through the rubble.

Her hands bled as she clawed at the jagged stones, her fingers finding purchase where there was none. She moved boulders twice her size, her muscles straining with a ferocity that defied reason. Nothing else mattered no pain, no injury, no exhaustion. She screamed her daughter’s name again and again, her voice breaking with every syllable.

But there was no sound in return. No cry. No whimper. Only silence.

And then, she saw it. A small blanket, peeking out from beneath a massive pile of rubble. Avery’s blanket.

Liliana froze, her chest heaving as dread seized her. The soft fabric was dust-covered, pinned beneath layers of stone. A faint splash of red stained its edge a color that made her heart stop.

“No…” she whispered, the word hollow and trembling. “No… no, no, no…”

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the rubble, her hands trembling as they reached for the blanket. She pulled at it desperately, but the stones refused to yield. Her screams tore through the air once more raw, guttural sounds that carried her anguish to the very edges of the Deep Roads.

Her pain was primal, beyond words, beyond comprehension. The dwarves and bandits alike stood in stunned silence, their gazes averted, unable to bear the sight of her grief. Some shifted uncomfortably, others muttered quiet prayers, but none dared to approach her.

Liliana’s cries echoed through the cavern, rising and falling like waves of despair. It was a sound that could have reached Orzammar itself, a sound that carried the weight of a mother’s unimaginable loss.

And still, she screamed, her broken heart pouring out in every word, every sob, every desperate plea to the gods.

Then, through the haze of her anguish, a faint groan reached her ears. Her cries faltered as she turned her head. From the rubble, a figure began to rise. His arm hung at an unnatural angle, twisted and broken, but he stood, his movements slow and deliberate.

Jonathan.

Liliana’s breath hitched as rage surged through her, sharper than any grief she had ever felt. Her gaze locked onto him, her emerald eyes blazing with unbridled fury. The air around her seemed to shift, vibrating with raw, untamed energy. She rose to her feet, her movements deliberate and terrifyingly calm.

Jonathan froze, his eyes wide with fear. “Liliana,” he stammered, his voice weak and pleading. “I didn’t mean ”

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME,” Liliana roared, her voice carrying the weight of the earth and sky. The raw power rolling off her grew stronger, crackling in the air around her like an unseen storm. Her form began to change, her body elongating and shifting. Feathers burst forth from her skin, pure and white, as her shape transformed into something massive and otherworldly.

Before Jonathan could react, she had become an owlbear a creature of primal strength and fury. Her gleaming eyes pierced through the dim light of the cavern, and her beak opened in a deafening, otherworldly screech that echoed off the walls.

Jonathan stumbled backward, his terror palpable. “No… no… please…”

Liliana charged, her talons digging into the stone as she barreled toward him, her wrath unstoppable.