Caio lets out something between a ‘hrmff’ and a growl at the mention of Clarissa. 

“Do we even have any way of locating her? I imagine she’s traipsing between Piotgrad and Beschadik but truly could be anywhere in Arden. Perhaps Jonathon has an idea, or even Ling might.” he says, with a look towards the group’s dwarven communication hub. “And we’ll need a way to teleport to wherever she is. Traveling on foot is out of the question unless she is here in Five Towers.”

"The last Jonathon knew was that she was around Beschadik. Though he did say that could change at any moment." Astrid ponders for a moment before continuing. "I might be able to locate her myself. It's nothing that I've tried before but I know that other clerics of The Scribe have been able to look in on those that they knew who were away from Kazad Azgaraz. I don't know if the Warden here would like me doing that here though." She looks up to the abjurer with uncertainty. "If things don't go well with the ritual, I would hate for her to know that you might be assisting us." 

"Contacting Ling should not be a difficult thing. But last the last thing we knew was she was taken by Valentine. Would it be safe contacting her if he is watching over her?"

“Hmm,” Caio intones, taking in Astrid’s concerns. “We’d need to choose our words carefully lest he deduce our deeper intent, but surely Valentine isn’t expecting us to just abandon Ling. If it appears we are only checking in on her I doubt it will raise much suspicion. I imagine he has bigger things to worry about.”

"We could ask about how things are going with Jonathan? Get her talking about him and I'm sure it'll lead to mentioning Clarissa in a way that'll sound natural. Then we hone in on any details she gives. The way Clarissa's been dressing could give away the weather in her area and the circles that she's moving in. How many people she's seeing Clarissa with and what their profiles are. Whether she's seeing her more during the day or at night, if she seems stressed, conflicted, or even scuffed up. We take what Ling gives and paint as much of a picture as we can."

Shiva then shrugs. "It's just chatting. Valentine may snap at her, but I doubt it'd be considered serious enough to end with real consequences. If he's evening paying that much attention to her."

Alaris remains quiet, soaking in the conversation while remaining as unobtrusive as possible, which wasn't easy in such an unfamiliar environment as the abjurer's sanctum. Then, an idea lights their face and the bogatyr stands a little straighter, their silver eyes flashing as they smile at the mage. "Warden Elias, your talents and training lie in protecting the thin places, the portals between the planes? Do you have any tools or resources that would help us focus our search or facilitate our travel? I get the sense that time is of the essence for your concerns as well as ours."

"Perhaps..." Elias replies with a wry smile. "Where is it that you need to go?"

Alaris glances to the others. "When will we know where we need to go?"

Caio turns to the Warden. 

“Would you be averse to us contacting Ling and scrying on Clarissa here? Given we are in the domain of a master wardsmith I imagine this is probably the safest place for us to do it.” he adds, turning to the others.

"Mmm, favours on favours," Elias muses, his eyes sparkling. "a price must be paid. You have offered your services, but the protection of this house demands an oath."

There's a moment of silence as the warden steps closer to Caio, raising a hand to gently cup the side of the shadow elf's head.

"Will you swear to serve as a guardian of this sanctum? To come to her aid in her hour of need and stand and fall as she does?"

Caio is still for a moment, black eyes imperceptibly scanning the man’s face.

”Very well.” He pulls his head away from Elias’ grasp and in an instant his hand has replaced it, clasping firm and resolute. “I swear to aide and defend this sanctum until my dying breath. I believe we were fated to meet, perhaps those threads run further than we can see now.”

Arcane power swells all around the Septem Mortale as Caio makes his vow. The very walls of the sanctum seem to resonate with the elf's pledge.

"Your words are set in stone and fate," Elias echoes, before stepping in and sealing the covenant with a lingering kiss. The half-elf's lips leave Caio with the taste of pear and cedars in his mouth.

Caio is completely caught off guard by the mage’s advance, and he fails to pull away from the embrace. His body tenses at first, but only for a moment. The warmth and orchard-sweet taste of Elias melts the shadow elf’s hardened exterior and as the Warden pulls away Caio finds himself ever so slightly dazed.

”Uhm… yes, good. Astrid,” he starts, turning back to his friends and attempting to regain his stoic persona. “Are you ready to begin?”

"Right. Well, lets hope it does not come to that... No point in wasting any more time."

Astrid circles the table until she finds a seat that suits her. Once seated, the dwarf then begins to remove various items from within her robes and satchel for the ritual. A small bowl of incense sprinkled with oil is lit. Another small bowl is filled with a with water and sprinkled with powdered silver; words spoken to bless its contents. She removes her holy symbol from around her neck, opening the cover to reveal the face of the watch and begins to wind stem, causing the hands to move backwards. 

"Brightmantle, show us the path..."

The cleric takes in a deep breath of the smoke. Her eyes flutter as she focuses her mind on that figure they met in Temnitsa after clearing the church in Petrowsky, the one she saw in her visions within the ashes at Haus Sternental. Eyes still closed, she reaches for the watch and slowly begins to wind the stem forward as she attempts to pick up the thread of Clarissa's consciousness, like hound sniffing for its quarry. Her head swivels slowly as she journeys through the trance. 

After a moment, the cleric's eyes snap open - irises and pupils like solid silver. Her gaze goes to the small bowl of water before on the table.

Elias stalks laps around the table, watching Astrid work with keen-eyed curiosity. However, the dwarf's silver gaze remains fixed on the bowl of water, her mind locked onto the elusive thread of Clarissa's presence. The surface ripples slightly, as though disturbed by an unseen wind, before smoothing like polished glass. As it does so, shapes begin to form in the basin's depths.

A city emerges. Towering spires of sandstone and marble glisten in the midday sun. The market streets bustle with life.

Her vision sharpening and narrowing its focus, Astrid drifts past the chaotic streets and bazaars, beyond the grandiose palaces, until her sight settles upon the richly adorned chamber of a noble court. There, Clarissa stands, a vision of elegance in wine red robes trimmed with gold. The girl's face is a picture of composed arrogance. Astrid can sense the ruthless ambition beneath her poised exterior, the cold calculation in her every glance. Patiently, Clarissa's eyes take in the room, observing the court.

A commanding figure sits enthroned upon a dais at the head of the grand chamber, his presence radiating authority even in repose. His robes are a deep, royal purple, layered with intricate golden embroidery that winds through the fabric like rivers of molten metal. A broad sash of crimson silk is tied around his waist, securing a ceremonial dagger, the hilt of which is adorned with rubies and sapphires. His turban, tall and regal, is wrapped in the finest white cloth, pinned with a large amethyst brooch that catches the light with the slightest movement. The silver that streaks his neatly trimmed beard exudes a fierce dignity and his sharp, dark eyes miss nothing in the room.

Though the man's gaze flicks towards his entourage occasionally, more often it lingers on the amulet hanging from his neck — a large, tetrahedral amethyst set in an ornate gold pendant. The amulet pulses faintly with a mysterious energy, as if more than just a symbol of power, but a magical artifact with its own secrets. He rests one hand casually over the amulet, fingers brushing its smooth surface, as though it provides him comfort or assurance. Although the man's posture is relaxed, his aura is one of supreme control. Every gesture and glance holds the weight of one who is used to getting what he wants.

The vision flickers and a shadow looms behind Clarissa. It is faint, nearly formless, but unmistakable — a figure swathed in darkness, its intent laced with malice. No member of the court casts this shadow. This is something else, something deeper, connected to Clarissa in a way that sends a chill through Astrid’s bones. However, before she can discern more, the water begins to churn violently, distorting the image. The silver tint in her eyes fades, leaving her breathless as the vision slips away, leaving only the cold, still water behind.

With her vision dispelled suddenly, Astrid slumps back in the chair. Her chest heaves and eyes flare wide as she gets her breath back. Once silvered, blood vessels have burst in both eyes. 

"Besch..cadik," she finally lets out, her breathing still heavy. "She's in Beschcadik. Meeting with the emperor." A hand goes to her temple to massage away the pain from the backlash. "Something else was there. An evil shadow hung over the court. I think it noticed me looking in." 

“For all we know that could be her father,” Caio says grimly. “Perhaps we can find an ally in the emperor. I imagine he’d like to know there’s a viper sitting right in his court, waiting to snatch the runestone from around his neck. Warden, are you able to send us there, to Beschcadik?”

Elias stands at the edge of the chamber, his piercing brown eyes fixed on Astrid. The mage's gaze is thoughtful yet wary, as he listens to the dwarf's account. He approaches the table with a slow, measured step, hands folded within the deep sleeves of his rune-embroidered robes. The silvered runes seem to pulse faintly, like a heartbeat in tune with the warden's controlled breath.

"Beschcadik," he murmurs, tasting the name of the far-off city, as though measuring the arcane threads binding him to this plane. Elias meets Caio’s gaze with an intensity that speaks to the weight of the question. "The rift between our location and the Sarameian capital is vast," he begins, his voice calm but edged with caution. "Teleporting directly into the city — especially into the emperor’s court — is no simple feat. Such places are often warded, their defences laced with ancient magics crafted precisely to repel interlopers."

The mage turns his gaze to Astrid, a flicker of concern in his expression as he notes the burst blood vessels in her eyes.

"However," he continues, "I may be able to weave a pathway that avoids such wards. I will need time to prepare. A few hours, at most." The warden lifts his hand slightly, tracing a faint arc in the air, conjuring an illusory image of Beschcadik’s skyline with spires and domes shimmering in silvery light.

"Know this," he adds, his voice lowering. "Even I cannot fully shield you from the threads of fate woven around the Sarameian court. Once you’re there, the emperor and whatever dark presence that Astrid witnessed may perceive you. If this shadow truly noticed her scrying, then it may already be waiting for your arrival."

Elias straightens, releasing the illusion with a flick of his hand.

"If you are prepared to risk it, then I shall make the preparations. Beschcadik is within reach… though we tread close to peril."

Caio nods.

”Perhaps not directly into the emperor’s court. If we are to gain the emperor’s trust and turn him against Clarissa’s schemes we best not make our first impression as trespassers. Somewhere nearby would suffice, maybe on the fringe of Kasir Althour or even in Bazgharik. In the meantime,” he turns to the others. “We should make preparations as well. Perhaps some more weather appropriate clothing.”

Shiva had listened intently, considering their odds and the strange nature of their enemies. And the hazard she now posed given her condition. Her gaze is distant, eyes fixed on an ornate bit of finery in the room. 

"Yeah. I should get a blade, wouldn't want to push myself to far and lose it with so much on the line." 

She then turns to Caio, hoping to find understanding. 

 "And I'll want to ask around to see if Mistress returned my letter. Like I mentioned before, she may be able to help in some way."

It then occurs to Shiva just who they were standing in a room with, a powerful mage capable of who-knows-what.

"Warden Elias, sir. Could you assist me in a personal quest that would save my life and help me to be a greater asset to my dear friends? I am born of demonic blood and it is killing me. If you could help me in retrieving..." She pulls out the list made for her of the items she would need.

"Elder amber resin, an elixir of moonlit lavender, powdered bark from an ancient oak, elemental eucalyptus salve and phoenix feather oil? We could also make substitutions with stardust jasmine oil, astral myrrh, celestial larkspur petals and iridescent serpent scales dragon's blood ambergris, crystalized fey honey and sylvan tears." 

Realizing that this laundry list of items may have been hard to follow, she holds the parchment out to the Warden to read himself. "If you could help me in this, I would pledge myself to aid and defend this sanctum with my life, just as Caio has." She then holds a hand up in polite refusal. "A firm handshake would seal the deal for me, though."

Elias’s eyes slowly shift from Caio to Shiva, listening patiently as she details the exotic and esoteric ingredients needed for her survival. His fingers brush his chin lightly and, when she offers the list, he accepts it with careful hands. Blue eyes scan the parchment with practiced ease, the warden's dark hair gleaming faintly in the soft light of the room.

"An intriguing proposition," he begins in a measured voice that betrays neither approval nor disdain. "The items that you seek are rare. Some border on impossible to acquire without specific connections... or significant risk. A phoenix feather, for example, cannot simply be plucked from the ether. These are materials tied deeply to realms and forces that few dare to approach."

Elias folds the parchment neatly and looks directly at Shiva, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

"Nevertheless, I see the gravity of your request, and your willingness to offer your loyalty is… notable. There are few who speak such words lightly."

He pauses, letting the weight of her offer settle.

"For now, let us be pragmatic. I may already have some of these items or their substitutes within the sanctum or among my contacts. Others may require journeys into realms far more perilous than Sarameia. If I am to help you, I will need time to verify what is within reach and where your steps must carry you next."

The warden takes a deliberate step closer to Shiva, the intensity of his presence sharpening.

"Should you pledge yourself to me, understand this: such bonds are not easily broken. I will hold you to your word, and in turn, I will see to your survival. The cost of this endeavour is not to be taken lightly."

His voice softens slightly, though it remains firm.

"If you are resolute, then we will begin this journey together, but first…" he extends a gloved hand toward Shiva, his eyes searching hers for any hesitation. "Seal your pledge and let us see if your will is as steadfast as your words."