Watcher of Fate

The arcane carriage glided silently through the winding tunnels of the Underdark, its wheels gliding across the ground. Enchanted lanterns cast a soft, ethereal glow within the cabin, illuminating the rich crimson upholstery and intricate silver filigree that adorned the interior. The air was cool, tinged with the faint scent of rare subterranean blooms.

Elara sat stiffly on one of the plush seats, acutely aware of every detail—the smooth fabric against her skin, the delicate rustle of her silken garments, and the subtle hum of the enchantments that propelled the carriage forward. Beside her sat Lady Selya of House Nar'ithil, her poised demeanor commanding both attention and caution.

Lady Selya turned her gaze toward Elara, her eyes a striking shade of violet that seemed to pierce straight through to her soul. "You may address me as Lady Selya or Mistress," she said, her voice smooth and precise, each word enunciated with the refined elegance befitting Drow nobility. "I trust that is understood?"

Elara swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "Yes, Lady Selya," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

A faint smile touched the corners of Lady Selya's lips. "Good. I expect obedience and respect from those in my service. In return, I offer protection and a life of relative comfort. Provided you prove yourself... useful."

Elara's heart sank. The implication was clear: her fate rested entirely on her ability to please her new mistress. A mixture of resentment and desperation welled up within her. I have to be careful, she reminded herself. One wrong move could make things even worse.

The carriage entered a broader tunnel, passing under a series of luminescent crystal arches that bathed the interior in shifting hues of blue and violet. Lady Selya seemed momentarily lost in thought, her gaze distant as she observed the passing scenery.

After a few moments of silence, she turned her attention back to Elara, her expression inscrutable. "You know," she began, her tone conversational yet laced with an undercurrent of intent, "the auction house believes you to be nothing more than a talented bard, a charming performer with a repertoire of benign spells."

Elara felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She kept her gaze lowered, careful not to reveal the alarm in her eyes. Where is this going? she wondered anxiously.

Lady Selya continued, her fingers idly tracing the embroidered patterns on the armrest. "They mentioned your abilities: simple spells like [Telekinesis], [Altered Reality], [Greater Invisibility], and [Shadow Step]. Useful, perhaps, for parlor tricks and entertainment."

She paused, letting the words hang in the air. Elara could feel the weight of her scrutiny, every instinct urging her to remain composed.

"However," Lady Selya resumed, her voice dropping to a silkier, more menacing timbre, "I have reason to believe there's more to you than meets the eye."

Elara's pulse quickened. Does she know? How much has she discovered? Her mind raced through possibilities, each more dire than the last.

"You see," the Drow lady elaborated, "my house soldiers were among the ones who captured you. They are well-trained and observant, and they reported certain... anomalies." She leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Your demeanor, your resilience, the way you carried yourself even in chains all suggest a background that doesn't align with a mere wandering bard."

Elara struggled to maintain her facade. A bead of perspiration formed at her temple, and she hoped the dim light would conceal it. "I don't know what you mean, Lady Selya," she said quietly, striving to keep her voice steady.

A faint chuckle escaped the Drow's lips. "Oh, I think you do." She tilted her head, regarding Elara with a mixture of curiosity and calculated intent. "Perhaps you're a spy? It's not uncommon for such individuals to masquerade under innocent guises."

Elara's thoughts spiraled. *Denying too vehemently might raise suspicion, but admitting anything could be fatal.* She took a slow breath. "I assure you, I am just a bard, not a spy."

Lady Selya arched an elegant eyebrow. "Is that so?" She tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you can explain how a simple bard managed to prevent dozens of [Drow] warriors from pursuing others by catching arrows out of the air."

Elara's heart skipped a beat, a cold wave of panic washing over her. *Catching arrows? They saw that?* Her mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. She could feel Lady Selya's piercing gaze upon her, weighing every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

"I... I was merely trying to protect myself," Elara stammered softly, her voice barely steady. "It was instinct. Anyone would have done the same in my position."

Lady Selya's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Oh, but not everyone possesses the reflexes or the courage to snatch arrows mid-flight, my dear. Such a feat requires skill far beyond that of a traveling bard." She leaned in slightly, her violet eyes narrowing. "Tell me, are you certain there's nothing more you wish to share?"

Elara swallowed hard, her mouth dry. If I admit to my abilities, she might see me as a threat. But denying it outright isn't working either. Anxiety gnawed at her, but beneath it flickered a spark of determination. "I am not a spy, Lady Selya," she said firmly, meeting the Drow's gaze. "I have no allegiance but to my music and the stories I tell."

A moment of tense silence hung between them. Lady Selya regarded her thoughtfully, her expression inscrutable. "Very well," she said at last, her tone measured. "If that is your claim, then I shall take it under consideration."

She shifted her posture, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. "You see, Elara, I have a particular distaste for the use of slaves within our house troops. It breeds weakness and complacency, diluting the strength that has kept [Drow] society formidable through the ages."

Elara listened intently, a mix of curiosity and cautious hope stirring within her. Where is she going with this?

"Lady Yathrin of House Val'ryn," Lady Selya continued, a hint of disdain creeping into her voice, "holds the opposite view. She relies heavily on slave labor and conscripts them into her forces without hesitation. It undermines the purity of our military might and poses a threat to the balance of power."

Elara sensed an undercurrent of rivalry and ambition. So this is about internal politics and power struggles.

Lady Selya's eyes flickered with a sharp intensity. "I am seeking someone capable, someone who can subtly disrupt Lady Yathrin's operations, expose the flaws in her reliance on slaves, and tip the scales in favor of those who value true strength." She paused, her gaze penetrating. "I had hoped that you might be that person, a skilled operative hidden beneath the guise of a bard."

Elara's mind whirled. She's offering me a role, a chance to earn her trust or perhaps to be used as a pawn in her schemes. The prospect was daunting, but it also presented an opportunity.

"However," Lady Selya sighed lightly, "if you are indeed just a bard, as you claim, then perhaps my expectations were misplaced. I suppose I could always sell you to the entertainment district to recoup some of my investment."

A chill ran down Elara's spine. The thought of being sold again, forced into performances under the control of others, was nearly unbearable. She glanced downward, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. I can't let that happen. But how much should I reveal?

"Elara," Quill's voice whispered gently in her mind, "this might be our chance. We need to gain her trust, at least for now."

She took a slow, steadying breath. "Lady Selya," Elara began cautiously, lifting her eyes to meet the Drow's, "I may not be a spy, but I do possess certain... abilities that could be of service."

An intrigued smile played on Lady Selya's lips. "Oh? Do tell."

Elara chose her words carefully. "I have trained to defend myself and others when necessary. My skills go beyond those of an ordinary bard. If you require someone to assist in your endeavors discreetly, I believe I can help, Lady Selya."

Lady Selya regarded her thoughtfully, tapping a slender finger against the armrest. "How intriguing. And what assurances do I have of your loyalty? You are, after all, newly acquired and untested."

Elara’s heart pounded as the weight of Lady Selya’s question settled over her. What can I offer her? What could convince her to trust me when I can barely trust myself in this place? The truth was, she had no real leverage. She was a captive, trapped in the spider’s web of [Drow] society, where every thread was spun from deceit and ambition.

Her mind raced, trying to respond, but every path led to the same conclusion: there was nothing she could offer that Lady Selya couldn't simply take by force. Her gaze faltered, betraying her uncertainty.

Lady Selya’s lips curved into a smile, a slow, deliberate expression of amusement as she watched Elara’s internal struggle play out. "Ah, I see it in your eyes. You are clever enough to know when you are cornered," she said, her voice smooth as silk, laced with condescension. "Allow me to put your mind at ease."

Elara tensed, dread creeping over her like ice seeping into her veins. She didn’t want to hear what came next.

"First," Lady Selya began, reclining gracefully in her seat, "we will remove that ridiculous suppression collar. It is such a blunt instrument, don’t you think? In its place, you will wear something far more elegant, a collar that I control, and one that will explode at my command if you displease me." Her tone remained conversational, as though she were discussing a change in fashion rather than a lethal device.

Elara’s breath hitched. The thought of walking around with a bomb around her neck made her stomach twist. But she said nothing, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. She reminded herself that I can't show weakness now, though her heart hammered with fear.

Lady Selya’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the subtle shift in Elara’s demeanor. "Oh, and that’s not all," she continued, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You see, I purchased another delightful prize at the auction today. A human mage. I believe her name is... Mira?"

Elara’s eyes widened in shock. Mira? She's here? She fought the instinct to react, but her mind swirled with panic. They caught Mira too. How? Where?

"Mira will be your companion while you are completing your tasks for me," Lady Selya said lightly, examining her polished nails. "If anything goes awry, if you fail, or worse, attempt to escape, Mira will suffer the consequences in your place. You won’t die, Elara... she will."

Despair crashed over Elara like a tidal wave, dragging her down into a sea of helplessness. Mira... she's going to use Mira to control me. It was a cruel, unspoken truth that the Drow thrived on wielding the suffering of others to bend their enemies to their will, but knowing it didn’t make it any easier to accept. Elara could feel her resolve faltering. She was strong, she could endure pain, endure captivity. But to allow Mira to pay the price for her failure?

Lady Selya leaned forward slightly, her gaze locked onto Elara’s face with a predator’s focus. She didn’t speak, letting the weight of her words settle fully in Elara’s heart. The satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable; she was savoring every moment of Elara's internal torment.

Elara closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to compose herself. I have no choice, she thought bitterly. If I refuse... Mira will die. And if I try to escape... She swallowed hard, the realization burning like acid in her throat. Mira will still die.

Slowly, reluctantly, Elara nodded. "I... I understand, Lady Selya."

A flash of triumph crossed Lady Selya’s face. "Good," she purred. "I was hoping you'd see reason. It would be such a waste to have to discipline you, or worse, eliminate such a valuable asset." She reached out, her fingers brushing the delicate silk chiffon Elara had been forced to wear. "Now, we must do something about this atrocious outfit. The auction house always dresses their slaves in the most droll attire. I can hardly stand the sight of it."

Elara glanced down at the sheer fabric that clung to her, suddenly feeling even more exposed under Lady Selya's gaze. The humiliation burned beneath her skin, but there was no escape from it. This is my life now, collared, controlled, and dressed like a trophy for her amusement.

"You’ll wear something more befitting your new role," Lady Selya said with a soft chuckle. "I’ll have my servants bring you something fitting of a [Drow] agent. If you can manage to act the part."

Elara nodded mutely, her voice caught in her throat. She thought bitterly that every moment is a reminder of how trapped I am. Her thoughts flickered to Mira. I have to find a way to keep her safe. I can’t let her die because of me.

"Don’t look so glum, dear," Lady Selya said, rising from her seat gracefully. "You may yet prove yourself useful. Do well, and perhaps I’ll even grant you a reward: freedom, eventually." She smiled, but it was a smile that held no warmth. "But disappoint me, and you already know the cost."

Elara’s hands trembled slightly, hidden in the folds of her skirt. Play along for now. Gain her trust. Wait for the right moment. Then... escape. And take Mira with you. It was the only plan she could cling to, however desperate.

Quill’s voice drifted through her mind, quiet but firm. "We will find a way, Elara. You’re not alone."

She nodded, though her thoughts were bleak. I have to survive this. For Mira. For myself. Somehow... I will.