It was remarkable how willing the Sharrans were to throw away their own lives. They were told the bliss of the void awaited them, a perfect state of absence and nothingness. Shadowheart had been just as willing to die for the cause, once. When life was hell, the idea of escaping it into the embrace of darkness didn't seem so bad. But that was a long time ago. Now she had so many things in her life that made her desperately want to keep living.

The fight had been another near brush with death. Too many to count, at this point. The necrotic magic had taken a lot out of her, wounds that weren't visible on the surface, but a little rest and recovery would set her right, no healing magic required.

Something didn't quite add up. There was no address on the letter from Isobel, no instructions on how to find them. If the priest was ambushed on the way, it didn't explain how the Sharrans found them. She searched Sef's corpse, already cold from the magic of the dagger that had ended him, but found nothing. Standing again, Shadowheart sighed. There was more she needed to ask.

She quickly cast a disguise spell, the form of Shadowheart being suddenly replaced in a flash of magic by that of their githyanki friend, Lae'zel. It was a humorous image, the fierce githyanki warrior wearing soft, flowing white robes. She could practically hear the woman giving her a good [i]chk[/i] in disgust.

She dredged up necromantic magic from a dark part of her soul, asking her new goddess to forgive the act, as it was for a good cause. [i]"Cum Mortuus in Lingua Mortua,"[/i] she spoke stoically as the incantation, and then her eyes began to glow with green unearthly light, a power that swirled around her, and around the corpse. Sef lifted into the air, head lolling back, mouth agape, air forced in and out of his lungs by the magic, granting his mortal remnants the ability to speak for a brief time.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, with Lae'zel's voice.

"Interrogated the priest," Sef rasped in reply. "He resisted for three days before breaking..."

"What was done with the priest after the interrogation?"

"Kept him... could still be of use..."

So he was alive, though perhaps he wished he wasn't. Shadowheart didn't feel any animosity for being given up. The vast majority of Selunites weren't mentally equipped to withstand the torture a trained Sharran could inflict. Three days was an impressive feat, all things considered.

"And where is the priest being kept?"

"Our hideout," Sef answered simply. "Under lock and key..."

Shadowheart shook her head. Obviously. Even in death this novice wasn't particularly helpful. "How do I reach this hideout?"

"On the road to Baldur's Gate. Find a trail that leads east into the hills. There is a dark pond, and a cave. The Nightsinger's faithful are inside..."

"And how well is this hideout defended?"

"Not expecting attack, but... the faithful are arriving from all corners of the Sword Coast... seek their lair... and you will die."

The spell's power waned and then ended, lowering the corpse of Sef back onto the ground, and returning everything to silence once more. Shadowheart let her disguise fade, regaining her half-elven form, and she looked to Nuvyen. "I think I know the place he's talking about. It's even on our way, assuming we're headed for Baldur's Gate. Taking on a whole den of Sharrans ourselves is risky, but... if we take the time to find more help, that priest will be long dead. We're his only chance."