The party ascended the steep stone steps, their breath visible in the cold mountain air. The climb was long, and their exhaustion palpable, but [[Zara Blackwood|Zara]]’s sharp hearing caught something unusual. A voice, faint yet commanding, echoed in her mind: “ENTER.” She stopped and turned to the group. “The voice,” she said quietly. “It’s telling us to enter.” They exchanged wary glances but pressed forward with caution. The ruins at the top of the stairs loomed ahead, dark and imposing. Inside, the grand hall was open and eerily quiet. It was a ruin of faded glory, with crumbling stone walls and shattered windows letting in the cold wind. Three long tables stretched down the room, leading to a throne-like chair at the far end. Above the throne hung the skeletal remains of a dragon, its massive form missing its skull. Seated in the throne was an old-looking lich, clad in tarnished silver armor. He rose as they approached, his gaunt, undead form emanating an ancient power. “Welcome,” the lich said, his voice dry and rasping. He gestured for the party to come closer. As they stepped forward, the lich moved with alarming speed, grabbing [[Zara Blackwood|Zara]]. His skeletal hands clawed at the cursed armor she wore, attempting to tear it from her. “Wait!” he commanded, freezing the party in their tracks. He released [[Zara Blackwood|Zara]], who staggered back. “Who are you?” [[Ellette|Ellette]] demanded, her moonblade drawn. The lich straightened. “I am Sir Godfrey. That armor your friend wears is cursed. If she keeps it, it will be her end.” After introductions, the party cautiously sat at the long tables while Sir Godfrey retrieved a bottle of ancient wine. Pouring it into goblets, he explained, “Drink. It will show you the truth.” Though hesitant, the party drank. The wine was bitter and metallic, and as it took effect, their surroundings began to blur. Collectively, they entered a vivid vision: - A young man wielding a radiant sword—the sword of Sergio—confronting Strahd in a fierce battle. The blade pierced Strahd’s hand, but the vampire lord sneered, turning the sword to stone before killing the man with his bare hands. - Tatyana, standing atop Castle Ravenloft, Strahd’s shadow looming behind her. Tears streaked her face as she leapt from the castle’s heights, disappearing into the mist below. The visions faded, leaving the party gasping as they returned to the present. Sir Godfrey stood silently, watching them. “The sword can be restored to its former power,” he said. “But it must be brought to the dragon. If the dragon is restored, it will bring an army to your side. To restore the dragon, you must return its skull.” [[Ellette|Ellette]]’s voice was sharp. “Where is the skull?” Sir Godfrey’s hollow eyes locked onto hers. “Strahd keeps it in his castle.” The group shared a heavy silence, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Breaking the quiet, [[Ellette|Ellette]] asked, “What about Von Richton? Do you know where he is?” Godfrey nodded slightly. “Find the den, and you will find the hunter.” Drawing his blade, he cut his finger and used his blood to sketch a crude map onto a piece of parchment. Handing it to the party, he said, “This will guide you.” With a flick of his bony hand, he conjured a silvered coin streaked with blood. “This coin will bring you back here once. Use it wisely.” He stepped back, raising his hands. A swirling portal of crimson energy formed in the air. “Your path awaits.” The party stepped into the portal, emerging at a crossroads bathed in the pale light of dusk. They looked around, orienting themselves with Godfrey’s map, when the sound of clopping hooves broke the stillness. From the mist emerged Nord’s carriage, its ornate frame as theatrical as its driver. The carriage halted beside them, and the door swung open. “Well, well,” Nord said, tipping his hat with a sly grin. “Fancy meeting you here.” [[Chapter 82. Grim Path to the Den]]