Something unseen seemed to watch from the shadows, and the room vibrated with the pounding of the loom. It felt like any careless movement might trigger the wrath of the monstrous machine.

Nightshade’s Offer

We stood in the room, thunder of machines pounding through us. Vast energies barely contained. I looked up, towards towards the attic; our information said there was another anchor there. The others looked around as well, and we huddled briefly, quietly shouting to each other to be heard over the machines as we discussed what to do next.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the shadows in the room seemed to ripple, unnaturally, and loose threads about the loom began to sway in an unfelt breeze. And from a corner of the room a narrow crack in the air bloomed into being in midair. Out of this tear stepped Skabitha Nightshade herself, sharp, gaunt, clad in black silk that shimmered like oil, her face a mask of patience. In her gnarled hands she held a twisted cane, topped with a marionettes head, which reflected her feelings, smiling and frowning as she did.

“So, you’ve stolen an anchor,” she said in a voice all silk and steel. “Do you even know what you meddle with? Do you understand the weight of this kingdom’s chains or the bargains struck to bind them? Do you understand the nothing that even now nibbles at the borders of this kingdom threatening millions of Fey? Do you hear its call as I do? No. You stumble through the Feywild as children through the forest, pulling at vines without knowing which are snakes.”

She gestured with a gnarled hand to the portal behind her. Through the shimmering veil we could see the World Mushroom, impossibly vast, trunk as wide as a city, crown a titanic cap blotting out the horizon. Bio-luminescent veins shimmered and glowed along the Mushroom’s body, pulsing like a heartbeat. But the glow was off somehow; sickened. Here and there patches of rot and blight marred the surface, weeping foul spore clouds that drifted like thunderheads. Where the corruption has spread entire shelves of fungus sagged, collapsing, like rotting flesh.

At its base we saw hope: a circle of druids had built a camp at the Mushroom’s roots. Their fires burned with green flame, banners marked with sigils of renewal. They were laboring in ritual, pouring life into the World Mushroom’s roots, slowing the spread of corruption. Buying time.

“But you need not understand,” Nightshade continued. “I know why you came. You seek not to save just a few, but whole cities, continents, Planes. Billions of lives may depend on your next steps towards the vast gate. But here you are meddling in my home and a thousand-year tapestry you cannot begin to understand. These children, the anchors? They are threads in an older design. Fey matters should remain with Fey. We do not meddle lightly with the mortal world, though we might wish to.”

My eyes narrowed at this speech. I judged she believed what she said, but it was self-righteous falsehood. Deliberate blindness. For where else did these children come from but the mortal world?

Nightshade produced a bottle and continued speaking. “Take this gift. A direct path to your goal, the World Mushroom, and an antidote to cure its blight. The product of years of my time.” She asked us us to take the vial and go, to save the World Mushroom and leave her to her work. As she spoke she seemed calm and measured, but her cane giggled ask she spoke. And why, if she had the cure and it was so important that the World Mushroom survive, had she not given it to the druids directly?

One by one she turned to us, attempting to use what she had somehow learned of us to manipulate us. To turn us from our path and promises. To convince us to abandon the innocents to her monstrous enslavement.

To Korag, she spoke of Helm. “Ah, Helm’s chosen. Do you not see it? This place is not a den of Chaos but of Order. Every child, every loom, every gear turns towards a greater purpose. Nothing wasted, nothing left to the mercy of chance.” She gestured around her at factory. “Helm teaches vigilance, and duty. The keeping of the watch so others can sleep in peace. That is what I do here. I take the wayward, and the weak. Those abandoned or forgotten, and give them place, structure. A life of purpose.” She claimed that entropy is the true evil, and her work saved the children from it. “Does your god not always favor order above sentiment?” She spoke of Helm striking Mystra down, of chaos and death. She appealed to what the church of Helm demanded. She spoke of order, and claimed to be Helm’s instrument. “Here I guard against Chaos. Here, I impose Order, and Helm is pleased.”

She turned to Kaira. “Kaira, you truly didn’t know, did you? All those nights under the striped tents. The glitter, music, laughter. The way you smiled at the little ones. You thought it was all innocent fun.” She leaned forwards, shadow stretching long. “Every mark you made, every child you guided, every hand you took and led to the gates. You were the shepherd. The Carnival’s pretty little pawn. And where did the sheep go?” She gestured dramatically around her. “Here, to me. I didn’t even have to come for them. You brought them yourself. Such a dutiful little servant. Mister Witch spoke so highly of you. One of his most productive, he often said.” She laughed. “You’re no hero here. You’re part of the chain that bound them. And now you wish to fight me? To tear down what you yourself helped create?”

With me she tried an appeal to parenthood. “Saralas. A father.” Her words hung in the air. “I can see it in your eyes and the way that you stand. You’ve carried that weight, since the moment a child was placed in your arms. A vow, nothing will harm them while I live. Yet here you are, in a foreign land, entangled in a struggle that is not yours. Risking your life to save these children you don’t know, while your own wait for a father who may never return. These children are not yours to save. This world not yours to mend.” She spoke of my grandchildren, and asked me to return to my realm and save my own people, not the people here. “I too am a mother,” she said, “and I understand what it is to do monstrous things for those you love.” But she had judged me wrong. I would move all the Realms to help them, but they are smart and capable, parents themselves. And the children here all had mothers and fathers too. I felt the pain and grief of loss as if it were my own. Her words fell flat; self-serving nonsense. I was unmoved.

She looked at Resda. “Highgrove. I knew your name the moment I saw you. Famous.” She laughed. “That’s a good one. Your bloodline reeks of destiny. Your grandmother sealed the vast gate once, tethering horrors beyond comprehension. And now her heir carries the burden within. Your powers are merely wild, child. Inherited. You are the tempest, shaped by forces older than you. Forces that could be guided if you choose wisely. Yet what a path you’ve carved. Your hands are stained with the blood of your own kin. Your parents’ faces still haunt you. You cut their thread short, whether out of rage or necessity. Do you still hear their screams? You think freeing these children will wash away that sin? No, Highgrove. Your fate is not here. You’re the gatekeeper. You’re the only one who can close the wound that your grandmother once stitched shut.

“But there is a way. I can teach you to master the chaos inside you, to seize control your magic, to bend it rather than be bound by it. Only a single item, and the will to find it, stand between you and the power you were born to wield. Take what I know. Fulfill your destiny before the Planes themselves bleed dry. Leave politics and heavy bargains to me. The Highgroves were never meant to stoop so low. You killed your family once, would you kill your destiny too? Guarantee that your kin died for nothing? Would you abandon your grandmother, like you abandoned your parents? Don’t be so foolish.”

She looked over the party. “Be wise, Mortals. The fate of your world awaits. A few steps and you will once more be on your right path. Leave the anchor. Take the cure. Be the heroes your people need. Or stay, and become corpses in my halls. What will you do?”

I reflected on her words and was sure she was not lying, that she believed what she was saying. But belief is not reality. It was a self-serving delusion. She was sure she was right, but that did not make her right.

I looked at Kaira, gauging her reaction to learning her part in this awful comedy. There were tears in her eyes, anguish in her face. She really didn’t know.

“Can we have a moment to discuss this?” Karthos asked.

Nightshade smiled, and produced a bell from nowhere, which she set down on a workbench, and then vanished.

The Self-Delusion of the Party

I was wary of her offer. “If she has a portal to the world mushroom and developed this cure, why wouldn’t she give it to the druids instead of waiting for us?” I asked the others. “Surely they would offer her something for it.”

“Because she’s evil and is using it as a tool to get us out of her hair. And I don’t believe she is really doing more for Helm than I am.” Korag said.

Kaira was distraught. “All those kids!” she wailed. “I just wanted them to have fun!”

“She said we shouldn’t interfere with the Feywild, but here we are in a factory filled with children from our world.” Baerwin said, echoing my own thoughts.

“Child slavery is bad,” Korag added as if it needed saying, then turned to Karthos. “How urgent is the situation with the World Mushroom? Did you recognize the druids?”

“It’s pretty bad. I think they were the circle of the spore, I saw their banners.”

“Do you think you’d be able to find these druids on your own?” Korag asked.

“Probably not,” Karthos admitted.

“If we don’t go through the portal it’s going to be a long fight,” Resda said. “If we do go through, we are abandoning those children, the unicorn, and everyone else.”

Korag was thinking out loud. “So she’s offering a shortcut. But we’d need to find the other hag, get the information, go to the castle, and find a way to break the spell, and hope Zabilna would give us the information we need in gratitude.”

“Maybe her talk about doing terrible things for loved ones was about a loved one of hers,” Baerwin mused.

“The portal is still there,” Korag said. “Should someone stick their head through and call to them?”

“And if you were just sucked through?” Baerwin looked apprehensive. “We wouldn’t want to separate across the planes. My opinion is murder, personally.”

“Oh yeah,” Korag agreed. “I almost attacked her in the middle of her speech.”

“I vote murder,” Kaira said.

“Maybe we could go to the World Mushroom and then plane shift back here?” Baerwin said.

Korag rubbed his chin. “We could use the scroll of plane shift to get back,” he agreed. “Or I might be able to designate a place of safety here and shift us back. If we lose this path to the World Mushroom how will we find it again?”

I could see what they were after. What if we took the offer, then came back and tried to fight later? That seemed fraught, given the rules of the Feywild, and unlikely. They complained about how much more work it was going to be to find and free Zabilna. They were clearly talking their way into accepting the offer.

“I know this party,” I said, looking hard at the others. “If we leave we’re not coming back. We can’t pretend we’re going to ever come back, so if we want to do something we do it now.”

My words fell of deaf ears. “We’re certain we can get back here though right?” Korag continued, “so maybe we should take this path to the World Mushroom and come back here later. Supposing that bottle is the cure, we go through, give it to the druids. Then come back.”

I don’t like this. And Nightshade knows everything about us. And all these children, her own army.

“What would Auril do?” Baerwin asked himself before wandering a short distance away to pray to his evil god. He stood for a while, frost building on and around him as he seemed to commune. He opened his eyes and returned, saying “She cautioned me that this was not my land to save, that this land was not mine to warm, and these were not my chains to break. She thinks we should leave, that while harsh, there are bigger things to be concerned with.”

“We’ll see what Helm thinks of this,” Korag muttered, and took a moment to pray himself. When he opened his eyes again all he said was, “Helm seemed to think the order here acceptable. But he has placed the burden of judgement on me.” He took a slow breath. “So how do we get back here?”

I grasped the small purple stone for comfort. “We’re never coming back.” I said again, with feeling. “We never come back. The only exception was when we traveled through time, and we’re not doing that if I can help it. If we leave we abandon these people.”

Korag put his hand on my shoulder and swore an oath on his honor as a Cleric of Helm that we would return. “We can use the scroll of Plane Shift to get back to Prismeer. From there I’m sure we can make our way back here.”

“Do I get a vote?” Skant piped up.

“Yes, what do you believe?” Resda asked.

“You need to pursue at all cost control of your wild magic.” he said to her. Then, addressing us, “She threatens not only her party and her loved ones, but the fate of the world.”

“Then we go, deal with this calamity. But If we don’t come back I will leave to do it myself,” Korag said.

“I’ll come with,” said Kaira.

I was adamant that if we left here we would find some reason that would keep us from ever returning. “If we leave, we leave.” I said a third time, ominously, heavily.

Accepting the Offer

Baerwin picked up the bell and rang it. Nightshade appeared immediately. “What will it be, mortals?”

“We have decided to kindly take your offer,” Baerwin said, and held out his hand for the antidote.

“I will give you the antidote,” Nightshade said, “but you must then step through the portal. A one way trip. Then and only then will I give Resda what she seeks. Then you will all leave my domain, never to return. But one of you must go through.” She made to hand Baerwin the cure, but Karthos stepped forward quickly and took it first.

“We’re taking the Book with us, as Insurance,” Karthos said.

At these words Baerwin ran through the portal with the book still in his pack. Karthos walked through after him. Nightshade watched them go, and as soon as they went through she laughed, then and turned to Resda.

She studied Resda intently, her cane tapping against the floor. The marionette on her cane watched Resda, grinning, eyes wide. “Wild child of Highgrove, you carry storms in your veins.” She said. “You’ve feel it. Every spell you cast a gamble. Every surge a coin toss. That chaos was never meant to be a prison. It was meant to be a weapon. But you lack the key. There is one who holds what you need: Janus Oddwork, a petty thief, flatterer of lords, mocker of priests. He dwells now in the town at the mountains’ foot, where Celestria’s silver seas kiss mortal shores. He pretends to be a merchant, but in truth he is a hoarder of broken things. Among them lies a relic once touched by the vast gate itself. A shard of a mirror no larger than a coin. They call it the Fractured Lens, though Janus does not understand it. He wears it as a trinket, a bauble on a chain. But in your hands, you could capture your chaos, bend it back upon itself. To control it, use it, master it. Without it, your magic could destroy you and your friends. Any spell could be their end. Is that the legacy you want? Seek Oddwork in Excelsior, and claim the lens from that fool.”

She stepped back, pointing at the portal, and waited for us to leave. Korag moved towards the portal, but looked back at Nightshade. “This isn’t over,” he said as he stepped through. She grinned after him. Kaira and Resda followed.

I was angry. It was not even with Nightshade directly, though she deserved judgement, but the ease and quickness with which my companions abandoned their promises, these children, this land and its people. The coup unresolved, the land fading, the children enslaved, and they just walked away. I looked at Nightshade. She just grinned back like a Cheshire cat; like she’d gotten away with everything.

I was surprised I could still feel after so many betrayals. But still it tore at my heart as I walked through after my companions, not looking back. She would kill me if I stayed, and then I could help no one. I would have to live with this, somehow.

Bun came through after us, upside down and screaming. Clapperclaw too, landing heavily on the ground. I had the sense he was thrown.

Samples for Wodna

The smell of oil and glue, cloth, paper, and metal was replaced with a warm musty dampness scented with earth and spores. Above us stretched a canopy of luminous mushroom caps. Luminous spores drifted through the air. The World Mushroom stretched far above us, vast and looming, overlooking a plain. The druids were here near the roots, trying to save the mushroom, ritual precise and urgent. Streams of green and violent magic twisted through blighted patches, fighting the corruption.

Also here was Wodna, eating an apple, Hoot perched on her shoulder. She seemed softer than the last time I saw her with Min, more like the woman I knew before. “Of course took the deal,” she sighed heavily, voice tinged with both relief and admonishment. “Well, what’s done is done. At least you’re not late this time. Did she give you the whole song and dance about how you’re terrible people? She has a crystal that shows her people’s insecurities and fears. It’s how she’s been able to maintain her business; it’s certainly not the quality of her toys. We make those you know. Toys.”

She tossed the apple core aside. “Not why we’re here of course. The Mushroom is dying. The blight spreads. The druids are competent, but their efforts insufficient. I have a task for you, simple in theory though it demands precision. We require a sample, a stem cell, pure and unblemished, taken from the living tissue of the Mushroom. It is incidental to your main task here, curing the blight, but I will reward you handsomely. If you do this correctly no harm should come to the Mushroom. The cells must remain uncontaminated. You will find them in the gills, after you cure the blight.” She offered us 10,000 gold. “The Unseen Hand wouldn’t take this job.” She folded her arms and waited for us to respond.

Karthos narrowed his eyes. “What do you need the sample for?” He asked.

“For research at the company.”

“That’s no answer at all.”

“And I’m sure I don’t know what you need 10,000 gold for,” she said, cooly.

“No thanks,” Karthos said firmly. “I’m more interesting in curing the World Mushroom than profiting from it.”

“Well you have to cure it first. Your priorities remain intact.”

“Are you the Wodna with the time blade?” Resda asked.

“The what?” She seemed confused.

Resda continued. “Why us?”

“The Unseen Hand wouldn’t take the job. And you have been somewhat reliable in the past.”

Resda wasn’t convinced. “Your contracts put people in danger.”

She pointed up at the Mushroom towering overhead. “What danger, just get a sample.”

“Who are you really? What is your story?” Resda asked, suspicion in her voice.

Wodna looked annoyed. “My story is I have a bunch of reluctant contractors unwilling to do the job. Is it the money? Make it 15,000 gold, then!”

Resda switched tactics, trying to make a deal. “You can find things, right? Maybe in exchange you can find Janus in Excelsior and retrieve the item he is wearing.”

Wodna shook her head. “I know Excelsior, but I don’t find things. That’s what others do.”

“You could hire the Unseen Hand,” Baerwin offered.

“With the 15,000 you could hire them. I would be happy to refer you.”

She tossed a leather pouch to me. “It’s a sampling kit. You take the money if they won’t.”

“Saralas, this is what stops us from going back,” Baerwin cautioned. I ignored him. Karthos stalked off.

Baerwin started digging through his bag, he started looking desperate. “Where’s the book?” He pulled his hand out and all he held was ash.

“Wodna, can you help me? I’ve been trusting you against the others’ judgement.” I said, looking at her. “I want to feel like I can. But can you give me a reason to keep doing so?”

“Well Saralas, I’m offering you 15,000. And have I ever given you a reason to doubt my word? I’ve made good on every deal we have made.”

“Your timeline is sometimes terrifying Wodna. I would like to know you’re doing good.”

“I’ve always made good. Didn’t that thing in Icewind Dale go well?”

“I don’t mean well, I mean good.” She didn't respond. “I know why you needed the Mythallar” I said, quietly.

She squinted slightly, then recovered herself quickly, poker faced again. For an instant it seemed she didn’t know what I was talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She might actually mean that.

I held her gaze, searching her eyes. “You have a terrible plan. Terrible things happen. I think it will hurt you.”

She looked concerned. “If I do,” she said, “I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Now what do you say about the sampling job?”

“I’ll take the job.”

“Fantastic!” she said, tossing me an apple. Then she vanished, taking Hoot with her.

The Druid Camp

I regrouped with the others and we headed to the camp, which stood at the root of the World Mushroom. The druids were here, laboring tirelessly against the spread of blight, chanting around the base of the Mushroom. Fungal guardians, familiars, trundled around, vigilant and majestic helping the druids with their tasks.

Seeing us approach, the druid leader stepped forward towards Karthos, staff crowned with luminous fungi. “The mycelium answers, a seed has come,” he intoned. “The Far Realm’s corruption spreads through the Vast Gate, and if its not healed all worlds may unravel. Decay is not the end, but renewal. Through rot comes life. This is our covenant, to guard against the balance and defend all that grows. The mycelium calls you. Will you walk with us?”

Karthos bowed low, said “yes, I will,” and presented him one of his mushrooms.

The chant of druids rose, and the world thrummed with the World Mushroom’s heartbeat. The weight of our failure in Loomlurch seemed to leave Karthos as all his attention was drawn by the World Mushroom.

He presented the antidote to the elder, whose eyes went wide as he studied it. He handed it to another druid, who also examined it, eyes also going wide. A murmer spread through the druids. “A boon! A spark of hope. This is real, it will slow the corruption, mend the shallow wounds and give the mycelium a chance to breathe again. But it is not enough. The Far Realm’s corruption is vast, and the World Mushrooms roots spread beyond what a single dose can heal. But we can use this to synthesize more. It will take time, but in this single act you may have saved us all.”

His gaze moved across our group, resting briefly on each of us. “And yet this is no false hope. This is proof that the mycelium remembers that life can endure. You have given it breath where was was only suffocation. Each step forward will build on this one. You have opened the door, a real chance for balance’s return.”

The druids resumed their chanting, rings of mushrooms glowing softly, drinking in the small amount of cure. The World Mushroom hummed again, more strongly, glowing.

“Rest now and gather your strength,” the elder said to us. “This is a seed. The full harvest is yet to come.”

He turned back to Karthos. “I see great promise in you. Would you consider joining the Circle of the Spore? It will not be easy, but I see the clear calling of the mycelium.”

“I would be honored.”

The druids explained to Karthos that the knowledge was not taught, but revealed. What would take decades of study could be imparted with visions under the blessing of the World Mushroom. But he must first endure the Communion of Spores, a multi-day rite. “But first, rest, for you must be weary.” The elder finished, ushering us into their camp.

“Karthos are you going to tell him about the visions you’ve already had?” I asked as we entered the camp.

“Yes,” he said, and broke off to speak with the elders for a while.

“And when you woke up covered in spores? Just the other day?” I called after him.

“Yeah, I inhaled some spores in the Underdark,” he agreed.

The elders appeared excited at this tale. “You are on the correct path. The World Mushroom itself must be calling you.” They rejoiced at Karthos’ news.

We took rest in the druids’ camp, refreshing ourselves. In the morning I saw the druids had tested Nightshade’s cure on some of the blight. It seemed to work, and I asked about their plans. “It works, and it will move through the mycelial network. But we have held some back. We need to study it, to reverse engineer it, and figure out how to manufacture more.”

I returned to my camping spot to investigate the sampling kit I got from Wodna. Inside the leather pouch was a lacquered case the size of a small toolbox. Thin purple filigree wrapped around the case, which wriggled as I viewed it. It looked like it was just showing off. I opened the case, revealing luminous vials, a sterile sampling knife, four extraction clamps, containment tray, and an instruction scroll.

I read through the instructions. It said the World Mushroom must be completely cured of the blight before it was to be employed, and improper handling would corrupt the sample. “The Mushroom is infinite, but the moment is not.” It then instructed on which tissues to harvest, repeated that it must be verified to be unblighted, and taken from the underside of the cap. Clearly I couldn’t use this now. The World Mushroom must be cured first. I put the kit carefully away in my pack and thought on the woman who gave it to me.

Gathering Mushrooms

The others gathered and we started discussing trying to return to Loomlurch. As we did so three druids stepped forward, robes woven with moss and lichen, eyes glinting in the dappled light. The elder spoke first, addressing Karthos in a weighty voice. “The World Mushroom speaks in ways that few can hear. Karthos must hear it fully, but first the path must be opened. You will not find it by following ordinary trails.”

Another druid now spoke. He told us a a fragment of the alien rot now crept on the edge of the forest. It was born of the Far Plane, a shadow of the Vast Gate. If we headed towards the twisted dead trees to the northeast we may feel the air grow thicker and heavier. He told us to follow that feeling.

The third druid spoke. Beneath the dead trees and gnarled roots was a place where a sacred mushroom grew, what Karthos must taste to see. One not common, and never found in the same place twice. “Keep your eyes open for faint amber glows at ground level. These will guide you. Take care. The fungi are watchful. Do not rush, and do not stumble.”

“You must gather these mushrooms,” the elder explained. “But do not consume them. The power is for Karthos alone. Bring them back whole, intact, and uncorrupted. If you touch the wrong cluster, the forest might remind you of your error. The Far Plane leaks here. You may see things which unsettle, even frighten you. Do not falter. Go now, the path will open to those who move with purpose. The forest watches, and the spores remember. Walk lightly, breathe wisely, and take only what is given.”

They told us where to start, towards the nothereast edge of the forest where the canopy may thicken. “A twisting path of fallen branches and glowing fungi should point your way. Good luck.”

“Well Karthos?” I said with meaning he did not hear. He didn’t answer, but started looking around for the path, ready to move forward.

“Korag?” I said, with feeling.

Korag looked torn. “The mushroom isn’t fixed yet… I suppose we try to fix it as fast as we possibly can.”

“Well, I’m ready to go.” Karthos said finally.

I looked at our small friend, red eyed. She looked like she had been crying all night. “Kaira how do you feel?” I asked gently.

“I want to go back and save the children. Let’s hurry and get Karthos his mushroom.”

I made a small note in my journal, not bothering to hide what I wrote. “I don’t know that we are ever going back.”

We set off on course for a distant mushroom forest. We walked for several hours through the whirling haze of spores and magic. Eventually we come to a rabbit, who watched us, unsettlingly, with its eight eyes. It had fungal growth coming out of its ears. It seemed infected, but it didn’t seem to be suffering.

“This is not normal,” Karthos confirmed. “This rabbit has been pulled in from some plane, inhaled spores, and become a twisted version of itself. I can’t say if it suffers, but certainly its nature has changed.” He looked thoughtful. “The rabbit does raise some concern about our safety. Don’t breathe the spores.”

“The spores are everywhere!” Baerwin pointed out.

“Mask up, then.”

Seeing the sense of this I cut a strip of cloth from a spare shirt, fashioning a mask. The others did similar. We left the rabbit in peace.

“I’d like to cure this, but I don’t know that I can.” Karthos said. “Maybe I can talk to it.” Here is the conversation as Karthos relayed it to me:

The rabbit blinked all 8 eyes at him. “Hello,” it said to him.

“How are you doing?” Karthos asked.

“Mushroom,” the rabbit replied.

“Are you well?”

“Mushroom.”

Karthos tossed a mushroom to the rabbit, who consumed it. “Mushroom!” and then bound away.

We continued, traveling for several more hours. In the distance I noticed a chunk of black, blighted mushroom floating about 10 feet off the ground. It dripped black spores. As soon as they hit the ground everything around them died. I call Karthos and the others’ attention to this as it slowly drifted towards us.

“Is this a product of the blight?” I asked Karthos, “or the source?”

“I think is is part of a cancerous tumor that probably fell from the World Mushroom above, and is now spreading its deadly spores. I don’t know if it is intelligent or just moving mindlessly.” Karthos looks up, then pointed. I could see huge black patches located across the surface of the Mushroom, some the size of houses. “This is bad, its a cancer, spreading.”

We could still evade it if we wanted to, if we moved quickly. “This is like a grain of sand on the beach, unfortunately.” Karthos said. “Killing it will not slow things down.”

At that conclusion, we gave the blighted tumor a wide berth. We proceeded further, and with some surprise realized that travel and time once again worked as they were supposed to. We were becoming hungry at the ordinary time after our long march. It was the first time in a long time that time seemed to pass normally. We paused to rest and have a small lunch.

Kaira saw a pepperoni pizza, and walked over to pick it up. It had pepperoni and mushrooms on it. “This looks delicious.” she said.

I was highly suspicious. Where did this spurious pizza appear from? I warned Kaira, who put it back down on the rock. Baerwin hit it with fire and we smelled burned pizza. “I think it was just pizza,” he said.

Korag noticed some distance away a bowl that looks oddly like a goliath delicacy. A hearty stew. “This can’t be real,” he said.

Raw Notes

As we consider what to do next, shadows about the room seem to ripple unnaturally
Threads sway without breeze
From the corner, a crack in the air blooms
Through it steps Nightshade herself, sharp, gaunt, clad in black silk. Shimmers like oil.
Face is a mask of patience. She holds a twisted cane topped with a marionettes head, which smiles and frowns in time with her.
“So, you’ve stolen an anchor,” her voice silk and steel. “Do you understand the nothing that even now nibbles at the borders of this kingdom? You stumble through the feywild as children through the forest.”
She gestures to a portal behind her. Through the shimmering veil we see the world mushroom, titanic in size. Bioluminescent veins shimmer and glow. But the glow is sickened. Where the corruption has spread
At its base is hope, a circle of druids who built a camp at the tree’s roots. They are laboring in ritual, pouring life into its roots.
“But you need not understand. I know why you came. You seek not to save just a few, but whole cities, continents, billions of people.”
“But here you are meddling in my home. Fey matters should remain with Fey. We do not meddle with the mortal world, though we might wish to.”
She safe passage to the world mushroom, and a vial, saying it will cure the blight affecting the mushroom. The product of many years of work. Asks us to take it and go, save the world mushroom, and leave her to her work. She seems calm, measured, but her cane giggles as she speaks.
She talks to Korag, claiming she gives the children safety, structure. She claims entropy is the true evil, and she is saving the children from it. She appeals to his experience with Helm, and what the church of Helm demands. She speaks of order, and claims to be Helm’s instrument.
“Here, I impose order, and Helm is pleased.”
“Kaira, you truly didn’t know, did you? All those nights under the striped tents. The glitter, music, laughter.” She leans forwards. “Every mark you made, every child you guided, you were the shepherd. And where did the children go?” She gestures. “Here, to me. I didn’t even have to come for them. And you didn’t know.”
“You’re no hero, part of the chain that bound them. And now you wish to fight me?”
She speaks to me. “Saralas. A father. You carry that weight, since the moment a child was placed in your arms. A vow, nothing will harm them while I live. Yet here you are, trying to save these children while your own wait for their father to return.” She speaks of my grandchildren, asks me to return to my realm and save my own people, not the people here.
She speaks to Resda. “Highgrove. I knew your name the moment I saw you. Famous. That’s a good one. Your bloodline reaks of destiny. Your grandmother opened the vast gate. Your powers are merely inherited. Wild. Your hands are stained with the blood of your own kin. Your parents faces still haunt you.”
“You’re the only one who can close the wound in the world, the vast gate.”
“I can teach you to control your magic. You killed your family once, would you kill your destiny too? Would you abandon your destiny, like you abandoned your parents?”
She demands we leave the feywild, leave the book, and be heroes in our own world.
I think on her words and am sure she is not lying.
I look at Kaira, guaging her reaction to this information. There are tears in her eyes. She really didn’t know.
“Can we have a moment to discuss this?” Karthos asks?
Nightshade smiles, and produces a bell. She sets it on a stool and vanishes.
“If she has a portal to the world mushroom and developed this cure, why wouldn’t she give it to the druids instead of waiting for us?” I ask. “Surely they would offer her something for it.”
“I don’t believe she is really doing more for Helm than I am.” Korag says.
“All those kids!” wails Kaira. “I just wanted them to have fun.”
“She says we shouldn’t interfere with the feywild, but here we are in a factory filled with children from our world.” Says Baerwin.
“Child slavery is bad,” Korag says. “Did you recognize the druids?”
“I think they were the circle of the spore, I saw their banners.”
“Karthos do you think you’d be able to find these druids on your own?” Korag asks.
“Probably not,” he says.
“So she’s offering a shortcut,” Korag says. “But we’d need to find the other hag, get the information, go to the castle, and find a way to break the spell, and hope Zabilna would give us the information we need in gratitude.”
“Maybe her talk about doing terrible things for loved ones was about a loved one of hers.” Says Baerwin.
“The portal is still there,” Korag says. “Should someone stick their head through and call to them?”
“And if you were just sucked through?” Baerwin said. “We wouldn’t want to separate across the planes. My opinion is Murder, personally.”
“Oh yeah,” Korag says. “I almost attacked her in the middle of her speech.”
“Maybe we could go to the world mushroom and then plane shift back here?” Baerwin said.
“We could use the scroll of plane shift to get back,” Korag said. “Or I might be able to designate a place of safety here and shift us back.”
“I know this party,” I say. “If we leave we’re not coming back. We can’t pretend we’re going to ever come back, so if we want to do something we do it now.”
“We’re certain we can get back here though right?” Korag says, “so maybe we should take this path to the world mushroom and come back here later. Supposing that bottle is the cure, we go through, give it to the druids. Then come back.”
I am uncomfortable with this offer, and with the others interest in taking it and then double crossing her.
And nightshade knows everything about us. And all these children, her own army.
“What would Auril do?” Baerwin says under his breath, and wanders away to pray to the evil god. She cautions him that this is not his land to save, not his chains to break. She is cold, unfeeling, and would have him leave this place. He comes back, and says “She’s advised me that while harsh, there are bigger things to be concerned with, and we should move on.”
Seeing this, Korag takes a moment to pray to Helm. Helm speaks to him with a flat, weighty voice devoid of emotion. A long speech, but his god has placed the burden of judgement on Korag.
“So how do we get back here?” Korag asks.
“We’re not coming back.” I say. “We never come back. If we leave we abandon these people.”
Korag walked over, put his hand on my shoulder, and swore an oath on his honor to Helm that he would come back.
We could use the scroll of Plane Shift to get back, Korag thinks. We’d be able to get back to Prismeer, but we probably would have to work our way back here, rather than being able to travel directly to Loomlurch.
“Do I get a vote?” asks Skant.
“Yes, what do you believe?” Resda asks.
“You need to pursue at all cost control of your wild magic.” he says. “She threatens not only her party and her loved ones, but the fate of the world.”
I am adamant that if we leave there will be some reason that keeps us from ever returning. “If we leave, we leave.” I say ominously, heavily.
Baerwin rings the bell, and Nightshade appears. “What will it be, mortals?”
“We have decided to kindly take your offer,” and he holds out his hand for the antidote.
“I will give you the antidote, but you must step through the portal. A one way trip.” She says. “Then and only then will I give Resda what she seeks. But one of you must go through.”
She moves to hand Baerwin the cure, but Karthos steps forward and takes it first. Then says “We’re taking the Book with us, as Insurance.”
Then Baerwin runs through the portal, with the book still in his pack. Karthos walks through after him. As soon as he goes through the portal the book disintigrates and she laughs.
She studies Resda intently, tapping her foot. The marionette watches resda, grinning.
“Wild child of highgrove, you carry chaos in your veins.” She says. “You feel it.
“There is one who holds the key to unlock this. Janus Oddworth, a petty thief, and holder of keys. He holds a relic, once touched by the vast gate itself. A shard of mirror, no larger than a coin. He wears it as a trinket, and does not know what it does. But in your hands, you could capture your chaos, use it, master it. Without it, your magic could destroy you. Seek Oddworth in Excelsior.”
Korag moves towards the portal, but looks back, saying “This isn’t over.”
I am really angry, not even with Nightshade. I look at her. She just grins back like a cat. Like she’s gotten away with everything.
Surprised I even have a heart left to feel at this point. I walk through, not looking back.
Bun comes through after, upside down and screaming. Clapperclaw comes too. I have the sense he was thrown.
The smell of oil and cloth and paper and metal is replaced with a warm musty dampness. The world mushroom stretches far above.
The druids are here, trying to save the mushroom.
Wodna is here. She seems softer than we saw last. “So you took the deal,” she sighs. “Oh well, at least you’re not late. Did she give you the whole song and dance about how you’re terrible people? She has a crystal, she can see things. We sell those you know.”
“I have a task for you. We require a sample, a stem cell, unblemished. The cells must remain uncontaminated. If you do this correctly no harm should come to the mushroom. You must take them from the gills, after you cure the blight.” She offers 10,000 gold. “The unseen hand wouldn’t take this job.”
Karthos narrows his eyes. “What do you need the sample for?” He asks.
“For research at the company,” she says. “I don’t know what you need 10,000 gold for.”
“Are you the Wodna with the time blade?” Resda asks.
“The what?” She asks.
“Why us?” Resda asks.
“The unseen hand wouldn’t take the job. And you seem somewhat reliable.”
“Your contracts put people in danger.” Resda says.
“What danger, just get a sample?”
“Who are you really? What is your story?” Resda asks.
“My story is I have a bunch of reluctant contractors. Is it the money? 15,000!”
Resda tries to make a deal with Wodna to find Janus in Excelsior. “I know Excelsior, but I don’t find things. That’s what others do.”
She tosses a leather pouch to me. “It’s a sampling kit. You take the money.”
“Saralas, this is what stops us from going back,” Baerwin cautions.
“Wodna, I’ve been trusting you.” I say. “Can you give me a reason to keep doing so?”
“I helped you. Didn’t that thing in Icewind Dale go well?”
“I know why you needed the Mythallar” I reply.
She squints briefly, then recovers herself. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I think she might actually mean that.
“You have a terrible plan, terrible things happen.”
She seems concerned, then speaks. “What do you say?”
“I’ll take the job,” softly.
We head to the camp. At the root of the mushroom the camp stands. The druids guard against the spread of blight. Fungal guardians help the druids.
The leader steps forward towards Karthos. “The mycelium answers, the seed comes.”
“Decay is not the end, but renewal. Through rot comes life. This is our covenant, to guard against the balance and defend all the grove. The mycelium calls you. Will you walk with us?”
Karthos bows, and says “yes,” presenting him one of his mushrooms.
The chant rises, and the world thrums with the world mushroom’s heartbeat. He feels freed from the Feywild’s concerns, bound to the mushroom.
He presents the antidote to the elder, whose eyes go wide. He hands it to another, who also examines it. “This is real, it will slow the corruption, mend the shallow wounds. But it is not enough. The far realm is vast, the roots deep. We can use this to synthesize more. It will take time, but you may have save us all.”
“And yet this is no false hope. This is proof that mycelium remembers that life can endure. Each step forward will build on this one. You have opened the door, a real chance for balance’s return.”
The world mushroom hums again, more strongly.
“Rest now and gather your strength. This is a seed. The full harvest is yet to come.”
He turns to Karthos. “I see great promise in you. Would you consider joining the circle of the spore? It will not be easy, but I see great potential.”
They explain that the knowledge is not taught, but revealed. What would take decades of study could be imparted with visions. But he must endure the multitude of spores, a multi-day trial. But they offer us to first rest.
“Karthos are you going to tell him about the visions you’ve already had?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, and goes to speak with the elders for a while.
“And when you woke up covered in spores? Just the other day?”
“Yeah, I inhaled some spores in the Underdark.”
The elders appear excited at this tale. The world mushroom itself must be calling him.
The druids rejoice. We level up. And rest, refresh ourselves.
I ask about the cure, and they say they have verified it works. They say they have tried it, and it will move through the mycelial network. But they have held some of it back, to study it, reverse engineer it, and find out how to manufacture more.
I look at the sampling kit. It is a lacquered case, the size of a small toolbox. Thin purple filigree wraps around the case, which wriggles as I view it. Opening the case reveals luminous vials, a sterile sampling knife, an instruction scroll, clamps, and so on. It says the world mushroom must be completely cured of the blight before it is to be employed. The mushroom is infinite, but the moment is not. It instructs on which tissues to harvest, and it must be verified to be unblighted, and taken from the underside of the cap.
We discuss trying to return to loomlurch. While we do, three druids step forward, robes woven with moss and lichen. The elder speaks first. “The world mushroom speaks in ways that few can hear. Karthos must hear it fully, but first the path must open.”
A fragment of alien rot, a shadow of the Vast Gate, can be found if we feel towards it. Past there is a sacred mushroom. Not common, and never found in the same place.
“You must gather these mushrooms, but do not consume them. Bring them back whole, intact, and uncorrupted. If you touch the wrong cluster, the forest might remind you of your error. The far plane leaks here. You may see things which unsettle, even frighten you.”
“Go now, the path will open to those who move with purpose. The forest watches, and the spores remember. Take only what is given.”
They tell us where to start, and wish us good luck.
“Well Karthos?” I say. He starts looking around for the path, ready to move forward.
“Korag?” I say, with feeling.
“The mushroom isn’t fixed yet…” he looks torn. “I suppose we try to fix it as fast as we possibly can.”
“Well, I’m ready to go.” Karthos says.
“Kaira how do you feel?” I ask.
“I want to go back and save the children. Let’s hurry and get Karthos his mushroom.”
I make a small note in my journal. “I don’t know that we are ever going back.”
We set off, on course for a distant mushroom forest. We walk for several hours through the whirling haze of spores and magic.
Eventually we come to a rabbit, who watches us. It has 8 eyes, and fungal growth coming out of its ears. It seems infected somehow. It doesn’t seem to be suffering.
“This is not normal,” Karthos says. “This rabbit has been pulled in from some plane, inhaled spores, and become a twisted version of itself. I can’t say if it suffers, but certainly its nature has changed.”
He seems thoughtful. “The rabbit does raise some concern about our safety. Don’t breathe the spores.”
“The spores are everywhere,” Baerwin says.
“Mask up, then.”
I cut a strip of cloth from a spare shirt, fashioning a mask. We otherwise leave the rabbit in peace.
“I’d like to cure this, but I don’t know that I can.” Karthos says. “Maybe I can talk to it.”
The rabbit blinks all 8 eyes at him. “Hello,” it says to him.
“How are you doing?” Karthos asks.
“Mushroom,” the rabbit says.
“Are you well?”
“Mushroom.”
Karthos tosses a mushroom to the rabbit, who consumes it. “Mushroom!” and then bounds away.
We leave, traveling for several more hours. In the distance I notice a chunk of black, blighted mushroom, floating about 10 feet off the ground. It drips black spores. As soon as they hit the ground everything around them dies. I call Karthos and the others’ attention to this. It is slowly drifting towards us.
“Is this a product of the blight?” I ask, “or the source of the blight?”
Karthos thinks it is part of a cancerous tumor that probably fell from the world mushroom above, and is now spreading its deadly spores. But we don’t know if it is intelligent or just moving mindlessly.
Karthos looks up, then points. We see huge black patches located across the surface of the mushroom. Some the size of houses. “This is bad, its a cancer, spreading.”
We could evade it if we wanted to, if we moved quickly. “This is like a grain of sand on the beach, unfortunately. Killing it will not slow things down.”
We give the blighted tumor a wide berth. We proceed further, and with some surprise realize that travel works as it is supposed to, and we are becoming hungry at the ordinary time. We sense that for the first time in a long time, time has passed. We pause to rest and have a small lunch.
Kaira sees a pepperoni pizza, and walks over to pick it up. It has mushrooms on it. “This looks delicious.” she says.
I am highly suspicious. I warn Kaira, who puts it back down on the rock. Baerwin hits it with fire. We smell burned pizza. “I think it was just pizza.”
Korag notices, some distance away, a bowl that looks oddly like a goliath delicacy. A hearty stew.

Saralas: The Feywild Chapter 16

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