On the trail of the heroes...

The large plaguecave opened before them, vast and lost in fog, debris and earthen isles floating freely. A torrent of raw blue fire, unmistakable manifestation of the spellpague, tore through the vaulted chasm, eating right through a jutting spire in the middle, spraying a swarm of rocks in the air. The debris turned into a flowing river of rocks, snaking through the cave and disappearing through the fog. As incredible and impossible as the cave looked, the arcane minds soon understood that the reality was fringed and the truth of the world had little meaning there. From the spire in the middle was growing a large tree, bearing strange fruits, and a bridge led from it to the other side. Sometimes ice, sometimes molten lava, the bridge was constantly changing. From the side of the spire, a river flowed, changing to steam then flowing slowly. But there was no mean to reach the spire's flat top, beside trying to fly across the room on the floating platforms. Such platforms were sometimes getting struck by fast flowing rocks in the strange rock stream, or were hitting the walls with a strange wet sound before bouncing back. Most dreadfully, they also frequently gravitated through the flowing spellplague torrent, setting them aflame in a fiery blue blaze, which died softly leaving barely any trace.

Aishar went first, tying a rope to the tree in the middle after floating the distance safely on a platform. Fylikiel started on the rope, while Auburn and Acane struggled and kept each other from falling from another drifting platform, doing all they could to avoid the blue flames. Then, to Aishar's misfortune, a blazing blue dragon crawled out from a cave in the spire. No longer red, the plaguechanged dragon youngling crawled on the spire and stared at Aishar. Then the sword at his hand seemed to react, intriguing the dragon. The beast considered them a moment. Aishar thought the dragon tame, when the beast savagely attacked him. Biting, clawing, breathing fire. Aishar laughed at the fire, being almost immuned to its effect thanks to his elemental blood, but the claws racked the flesh right off his limbs as the dragon furiously tried to kill him. The might of a dragon, even plagued, was a fearsome thing, and if not for Auburn, Aishar would be charred meat. Acane and Fylikiel threw all they could at the beast, trying as best then can to stay alive in the deadly living cave, while Liw did his best not to pummel to his death while helping defeat the beast. He even prevented, rather painfully but with success, Acane from being the next victim to the claws, after Aishar had fallen. Only for an instant though, for soon his companion got him back on his feet.

The greatest surprise brought them to the greatest realization. As the dragon flew back and seemed to concentrate, rocks and platforms started drifting to them, threatening to crush them under tonnes of stone, or send them falling to a certain death. Without hope, Fylikiel tried the same, calling on his knowledge of the Arcane and the plague and trying to shape the very reality around him... with success! He was able to bend the largest rock to his will, stopping it short of their location. Liw soon followed his example, even Aishar. Soon the dragon gave up and flew back into physical combat, but the tide had turned. The beast was finally slain. As Liw and Fylikiel explored the marvels of their hold on the cave, Acane preferred to leave the cursed place as soon as the beast was dead. Aishar went for the hoar, Liw for a different kind of hoar in form of dragon blood and various body parts.

Although victorious, they paid a dire price. Fiddling with the plague got them more eaten up by it. To Liw's dismay, the blue fire claimed his eye, rippling around it like a sun of blue flames, while Fylikiel's veins turned to blue fire under his skin along his left arm, trailing up to the snakelike scar protruding from his shoulders. Unlike  Liw, he seemed to embrace it, finding it very interesting. Liw knew better and preferred to put some distance between him and the plague.

They left and soon came upon a distressed Acane. The plague had claimed its due of her also, tearing apart her whole body and changing her into an half demon. Tears flowing, she showed them the truth of her demonic heritage, revealing that it was her real shape. The other one simply a clever illusion she had kept for years as a favor from an unrevealed benefactor.

But they did not turn away from her. They welcomed her as never before, for they all had dark secrets and darked pasts.

Fylikiel, lost children of his house, had stolen ancient priceless tomes and had lived long in the shadowfell, learning of the monstrous ways of eladrin bloodlines.

Aishar's escape from a secret faction of the shades, masters of magic and swords, and flight across the realms as a pirate, along with Auburn, whose family had been corsairs and pirates for countless years.

Liw escaped the mad experiments of his family at the price of his soul, as demonic magic purged his dying adolescent body of the spellplague. Later becoming a warlock at the price of torture and his sanity, he was able to tear himself free, betraying a succubus who was using him to betray his demon lord, imprisoning her in her own trap. A succubus who turned out to be... Acane! Or what the spellplague had ripped out of her some 50 or 60 years ago, changing her from a twisted bloodline of elven demons, and splitting her into two beings. Everything that was vile and unsalvageable created the succubus, another scion of the Abyss, while the rest was left behind. Remnants of gentleness and decency, courage and beauty.

Brought together by their darkest sides, the companions rested, regaining some strength to face whatever horror is hidden in the ancient runs of the Quel'Danas sanctum...