Watcher of Fate

Elara moved gracefully through the opulent corridors of House Nar'ithil, her footsteps muffled by the plush, dark carpets that lined the floors. Dressed in the attire of a Drow maid, an elegant yet understated black gown adorned with subtle silver embroidery, she kept her gaze lowered, as was customary for servants. Her skin, now the ashen hue of the Drow, and her hair the natural pure white hair of mother’s ancestry. The skill [Ephemeral] cloaked her true appearance, making people forget anything out of place, allowing her to blend seamlessly into Lady Selya's household.

Lady Selya's villa stood as a freestanding masterpiece of subterranean luxury, one of the rare structures not carved into the massive stone columns that supported the vast cavern. The estate was surrounded by lush, bioluminescent gardens and offered a breathtaking view through elegantly arched windows, which overlooked the sprawling city below. Most of the lower-class inhabitants dwelled in homes carved into towering stone columns. Still, in the villa, the air was filled with the scent of exotic spices and faint incense, while the walls were adorned with tapestries of historical battles and intricate arcane symbols. The luminescent fungi that lined the gardens cast a soft, ethereal glow over the villa’s elegant architecture.

Elara approached the grand double doors of Lady Selya's private chambers. Taking a steadying breath, she lifted a hand and knocked softly.

"Enter," came Lady Selya's commanding voice from within.

Elara pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was lavishly furnished with a canopy bed draped in rich fabrics, a vanity adorned with glimmering jewels, and shelves filled with ancient tomes. Lady Selya stood by a polished ebony desk, her back to the door.

"You called for me, Lady Selya," Elara said respectfully, keeping her tone even.

Lady Selya turned, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Yes, and please, drop that silly guise."

Elara nodded, dropped the illusions, and released the [Ephemeral] skill. The illusion shimmered briefly before dissipating, revealing her true form: a tall and poised young woman with eyes that held a mix of caution and intelligence.

"Much better," Lady Selya remarked, her violet eyes appraising Elara. "I have an important task for you tonight."

Elara felt a flicker of unease but maintained her composure. "Of course, my lady."

"I will be hosting a dinner party for a few esteemed Matrons," Lady Selya began, her tone casual yet edged with significance. "You will be playing the role of me for the beginning of the evening."

Elara's stomach tightened. The idea of impersonating Lady Selya herself was fraught with peril. Any misstep could have dire consequences for her and potentially ignite political tensions. Yet she knew better than to voice her objections. The explosive collar around her neck and the threat to Mira ensured her compliance.

"As you wish," Elara replied, masking her apprehension.

Lady Selya seemed amused by her response. She reached into a drawer and retrieved a large, ornate brooch adorned with shimmering gemstones. Placing it on the desk, she tapped a hidden clasp. An illusion sprang forth, a three-dimensional projection hovering above the brooch.

Elara stepped closer, her eyes widening slightly. The image displayed a gathering of a dozen Drow women, each exuding an aura of power and authority. They were elegantly dressed, their expressions ranging from sly to stern.

"These are the Matrons that run this Drow city, some of which will be attending," Lady Selya explained, gesturing toward the illusion. "Pay close attention."

Elara studied the projection intently. She recognized Lady Selya among the group, her posture confident and eyes sharp. Beside her stood three other Matrons, slightly younger than the others, leaning subtly in her direction, a sign of allegiance or mutual interest.

Lady Yathrin of House Val'ryn stood on the opposite side, her presence commanding. Five Matrons clustered near her, their body language indicating solidarity. The remaining two women stood apart, their expressions neutral, offering no hint of their leanings.

"As you can see," Lady Selya continued, "the dynamics are... complex. You must familiarize yourself with each of them, their names, houses, and personalities."

Hours slipped by as Lady Selya delved into detailed descriptions of each Matron who would be attending. She spoke of alliances, rivalries, and the intricate politics that bound them all. Elara absorbed the information diligently, committing every detail to memory. Yet, with each passing moment, her concern deepened.

Four guests aligned with Lady Yathrin, only one firmly on Lady Selya's side, Elara noted inwardly. This gathering is far from balanced.

Lady Selya paused, her gaze scrutinizing Elara's face. "I hate that expression you're making," she remarked coolly.

Elara blinked, realizing that her unease had crept into her features. She schooled her expression back to neutrality. "My apologies, Lady Selya."

A sly smile curved the Matron's lips. "You're worried about Lady Yathrin discovering this secret dinner with members of her faction, aren't you?"

Elara's control slipped for a fraction of a second, a flicker of anxiety crossing her eyes before she regained her composure. "No, Lady Selya," she replied evenly.

Lady Selya chuckled softly. "You are a remarkably poor liar for someone touted as a professional spy and bard." She leaned forward, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But fear not. I purged Lady Yathrin's spies from this house last week. We're quite secure."

Elara felt a slight easing of the tension coiled within her. At least we won't have uninvited eyes observing tonight.

Lady Selya tapped her manicured nails against the desk thoughtfully. "I also ensured that sensitive information was removed from the last dead drop packet you delivered to the alchemist's residence."

Elara's heart skipped a beat. I guess that explains the package delivery. Hopefully, that incomplete information will mislead Lady Yathrin's network.

The Matron paused, her gaze drifting as if in recollection. Elara silently willed the conversation to move on, hoping that whatever game Lady Selya played wouldn't implicate her further.

"You know," Lady Selya mused, "perhaps I should have omitted the part about tonight's dinner party from that packet. And certainly not included that we intended to discuss how to dispose of Lady Yathrin now that she's losing power due to her inability to control her lands and slaves."

She feigned a thoughtful expression, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. "But what's done is done."

Elara's blood ran cold. She was baiting Lady Yathrin, provoking her into action. The realization hit her like a physical blow. Something disastrous was going to happen tonight.

Lady Selya's eyes flicked back to Elara, and she laughed, a melodic sound that nonetheless sent a chill down Elara's spine. "The look on your face is priceless," she said gleefully. "I do so enjoy witnessing your despair."

Elara struggled to maintain her composure, but the weight of the situation bore down on her. "What do you intend for me to do tonight, Lady Selya?" she asked carefully.

"Simply play your part," Lady Selya replied with a dismissive wave. "Ensure the guests are welcomed appropriately. Engage them in conversation, be charming. You excel at that, don't you?"

"Of course, Lady Selya," Elara replied, her mind racing. If Lady Yathrin plans to retaliate tonight, I'll be the one in the line of fire, disguised as Lady Selya.

"Excellent," Lady Selya purred. She stepped closer, adjusting a stray lock of Elara's hair with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Remember, your performance reflects on me. Do not disappoint."

Elara nodded, the gesture concealing the turmoil within her. "I will do my best, Lady Selya."

"I'm counting on it," Lady Selya said smoothly. She returned to her desk and began sorting through a collection of ornate accessories. "Now, let's refine your appearance. We need you to be perfect."

---

Elara stood poised at the entrance of the grand garden, the illusionary guise of Lady Selya enveloping her like a second skin. The skill [Ephemeral] worked tirelessly to alter her appearance and infuse her with the confidence and commanding presence that Lady Selya naturally exuded. Beneath the façade, Elara's heart raced, but outwardly, she was the very image of the formidable [Drow] Matron.

The garden behind Lady Selya's luxurious villa was a masterpiece of subterranean beauty. Bioluminescent plants and flowers blossomed in intricate patterns, their gentle glow casting a tapestry of colors across the manicured lawns and winding stone paths. The air was rich with the scent of free flowers a rarity in this underground domain, creating an intoxicating and otherworldly atmosphere. Luminescent fungi adorned the elegant arches and pillars that dotted the landscape, their soft light enhancing the ethereal ambiance.

Scattered throughout the garden were five Matrons of significant influence, each accompanied by a consort and a personal attendant who doubled as a bodyguard. Their elegant attire spoke of wealth and status: gowns woven from the finest silks, encrusted with gemstones that caught the ambient light. Their attendants stood discreetly nearby, eyes sharp and ever-watchful, hands never far from concealed weapons or ready to call on magics to protect their patrons.

Lady Selya's waitstaff moved gracefully among the guests, offering trays laden with exquisite hors d'oeuvres and delicate crystal glasses filled with rare, effervescent wines. They wore uniforms identical to the one Elara had donned earlier, a subtle reminder of the hierarchy within the household. Their movements were precise and silent, and they were trained to anticipate the guests' needs without intruding upon their conversations.

Elara approached Matron Drisinil with calculated glide, her heart steady as she relied on [Ephemeral] to bolster her confidence. "Drisinil, your presence graces my humble gathering," she said smoothly, inclining her head.

Matron Drisinil turned a glint of curiosity in her crimson eyes. "Selya, ever the consummate hostess," she replied, a subtle smile on her lips. "Your gardens rival the finest in Menzoberranzan."

"You flatter me," Elara responded, allowing a hint of pride to color her tone. "But I must admit, the true beauty lies in the company I keep."

Drisinil's consort offered a polite nod. "Lady Selya," he acknowledged.

Elara gave him a brief, appraising look before returning her attention to Drisinil. "And how fares House Melarn in these tumultuous times?"

Drisinil waved a graceful hand, her jeweled rings catching the light. "We endure, as always. Though one must stay vigilant with so many... uncertainties."

"Indeed," Elara agreed, her gaze steady. "But tonight, let us set aside such concerns and enjoy the pleasures of good wine and better conversation."

"An excellent suggestion," Drisinil conceded. "Tell me, have you acquired any new pieces for your art collection? Your taste is renowned."

Elara allowed herself a measured smile. "Perhaps a few. I would be delighted to give you a private viewing sometime."

As they continued their exchange, Elara was keenly aware of the other Matrons subtly observing them, each conversation a delicate dance of power and perception. She leaned deeply into [Ephemeral], channeling Lady Selya's assertive demeanor to mask her uncertainties.

She mused internally that they watch each other like spiders on the same web. Their rivalries and alliances consume them, leaving little room to notice discrepancies in my portrayal.

The realization that the Matrons knew one another primarily through political maneuvering rather than personal familiarity brought her a measure of relief. It made her deception easier to maintain; they saw what they expected to see.

As she moved through the gathering, exchanging pleasantries and veiled barbs with the guests, a familiar whisper brushed against her consciousness.

"Elara," Quill's voice resonated softly in her mind. "I've found Mira."

Her pulse quickened. Is she alright?

"She appears fine and well taken care of," Quill assured her. "As we suspected, she's imprisoned in the other wing of the villa. Security is tight, but she's unharmed."

That's a relief, Elara thought, carefully maintaining her composed exterior. Thank you, Quill.

"Be cautious," he advised. "There are wards and guards everywhere. Any attempt to reach her now would be too risky."

I understand. For now, just keep an eye on her.

"Lady Selya?" a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Elara turned to see Matron Thalira approaching, her emerald eyes sharp with curiosity. Thalira was known for her cunning and extensive information network. "Matron Thalira," Elara greeted smoothly. "I trust you're enjoying the evening?"

"Quite," Thalira replied, her gaze assessing. "I must commend you on the venue. The bioluminescent gardens are particularly enchanting tonight."

"You're too kind," Elara said with a gracious smile. "Nature's beauty does much of the work for us, does it not?"

"Indeed," Thalira agreed, though her eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Tell me, have you heard any interesting news from the eastern territories? Rumors abound of unrest."

Elara sipped her wine thoughtfully, knowing the rumors were all lies created by Lady Selya. "I've heard whispers," she replied carefully. "But you know how rumors can be, smoke without fire."

"Sometimes," Thalira conceded. "But sometimes smoke signals a blaze yet unseen."

"True enough," Elara allowed. "Perhaps we can discuss it further later. I'd be interested to hear your insights."

"Of course," Thalira said, inclining her head before drifting away into the crowd.

Elara watched Faeryl glide away, a subtle tension threading through her. She suspects something, Elara mused. Or perhaps she's merely fishing for information. She couldn't afford to dwell on it; the evening required her full attention.

Suddenly, a low, rhythmic thrum filled the air, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of massive wings beating against the stillness of the Underdark. Conversations halted abruptly as all heads turned toward the source of the disturbance. The luminescent flora quivered slightly, their gentle glow casting eerie shadows as a gust of wind swept through the garden.

Emerging from the darkness, a colossal dragon approached the gathering with astonishing speed. Its scales shimmered in hues of obsidian and violet, reflecting the faint light like ripples on a midnight sea. The dragon's serpentine body undulated gracefully, each movement exuding raw power. Its wings spanned wide, nearly eclipsing the artificial stars that twinkled from enchanted crystals above.

Elara's eyes widened imperceptibly as she focused on the magnificent yet terrifying creature. She thought, this is it, the other shoe dropping, her heart pounding.

An information box materialized subtly at the edge of her vision:

---

[Lvl 46 Deep Dragon (Legendary: 1,582)]

[Lvl 32 Drow Matron (Rare: 825)]

---

Lady Yathrin herself, Elara recognized, noting the formidable levels displayed. She's not taking any chances.

The dragon descended, its massive form stirring the air into swirling eddies. Guests shielded their faces as dust and petals whipped around them. With a ground-shaking thud, the [Deep Dragon] landed at the garden's edge, folding its colossal wings with a grace that belied its size.

Seated elegantly atop the dragon's neck was Lady Yathrin of House Val'ryn. Clad in resplendent armor forged from dark metal and adorned with intricate spiderweb motifs, she radiated authority. Her silver hair flowed freely, and her piercing eyes scanned the gathering with disdain and curiosity.

Drawing upon [Ephemeral] to maintain her composure, Elara stepped forward, a poised smile gracing her lips. In her most convincing imitation of Lady Selya, she called out, "Welcome to my party, Lady Yathrin. Bringing a dragon as your plus one stretches the norms for these events."

A murmur rippled through the assembled Matrons and their attendants. Tension was escalating rapidly, and each guest was keenly aware of the delicate balance of power being broken.

Lady Yathrin inclined her head slightly, a cold smile touching her lips. "Selya," she replied, her voice carrying effortlessly across the space. "I thought a grand entrance was appropriate for such an... auspicious occasion."

The [Deep Dragon] fixed its luminescent eyes on Elara, a low rumble from deep within its chest. The ground beneath seemed to vibrate with its restrained power.

Elara’s mind quickened, and the world around her slowed, each second stretching as she recalled Lady Selya’s precise instructions. Engage in small talk, manage the guests until they moved indoors for dinner, and if Lady Yathrin appeared, subtly undermine her while waiting for Lady Selya’s intervention. Time itself seemed to crawl as she processed each step.

"Indeed, your presence adds a certain... flair to the evening," Elara’s voice cut through the suspended air, her tone carrying a delicate hint of irony. The words lingered in the stillness. "I trust the journey was uneventful?"

Lady Yathrin's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the motion slow and deliberate in this stretched moment. "As uneventful as one might expect when traveling with a dragon," she replied smoothly, her words flowing through the heavy atmosphere. "Though I must admit, I’m surprised by the gathering tonight. Such a select guest list."

Elara, moving as if underwater, gestured gracefully toward the gathering Matrons, her hand sweeping through the thickened air. "I felt it was time to foster unity among our houses," she said, each word measured and deliberate, hanging in the slow-moving scene. "After all, we share more common interests than not."

Lady Yathrin dismounted from her dragon with an almost dreamlike grace, her attendants advancing slowly before she waved them off. Her gaze locked on Elara, unwavering, as though time itself couldn’t shift it. "An admirable goal," she responded, her words sharp but stretched, deliberate. "However, one must wonder why certain houses were excluded."

Elara met her gaze, calm and even, in the slowed world. "An oversight, perhaps. Or simply the limitations of space and time," she responded. Her words seemed to drift like echoes through the suspended moment. "I'm sure we can rectify that in future gatherings."

As Elara stood in the stillness of her decelerated world, her vision sharpened, and her [Cognizance] flared to life. Threads of normally subtle mana suddenly flared into focus, clear threads turning purple and rapidly coalescing at a point between her and Lady Yathrin. In this slow-moving moment, the threads wove together faster than any magic she'd ever seen, forming something ominous and unnatural.

Her gaze darted across the gathering. None of the guests appeared to be casting, their faces calm, unaware of the swirling danger. Yet, the spell was completing itself. In an instant, a massive black wave surged outward, expanding with terrifying speed, even in the sluggish world Elara perceived.

It crossed the room in a heartbeat, swallowing the guards, the assembled Matrons, and even the towering [Deep Dragon]. Elara felt a searing pain course through her as the wave touched her skin, her muscles tightening in agony as if being ripped apart from within.

Before she could fully grasp the sensation, the wave collapsed backward, folding in on itself at a speed that defied reason, moving multiple times faster than it had expanded. Elara, Lady Yathrin, the [Deep Dragon], and everyone around them were violently pulled toward the imploding center in the blink of an eye. The world froze, and an information box appeared.

[Moment in Time] has been activated.