Winter's Yield

The Skeletal Knight's command rings hollow across the chamber, demanding I relinquish Sempach.
My grip tightens on the blade as frost begins to crystallize around my fingers. My other hand moves to my holy symbol, winter's fury building in my veins.
Sempach's voice echoes in my mind, urging surrender, speaking of his own survival against my companions' likely death. The blade's nobility - willing to endure misery to spare lives - only fuels my rising anger.
My fingers curl around the holy symbol of Freyja and Titania, frost spreading across its surface
These bones dare to threaten what's under my protection? Such arrogance deserves...
but then my gaze falls on my companions, and the cold fury falters.
The tactical reality crashes through my pride like an avalanche. We are outmatched. My friends would die here, in these depths, because of my refusal to yield.
I look down at Sempach, my winter-touched features softening for just a moment
Freyja teaches that true warriors know when to stand and when to yield. Titania's lessons speak of protecting what matters most. Both would understand this choice, though it tears at my pride like thorns.
With deliberate slowness, my grip loosens on the blade
You show more nobility than these bones deserve, friend.
my words to Sempach carry frost's bitter edge
I'm sorry. This isn't the partnership either of us envisioned.
I lower the sword, each inch feeling like a mile
The failure settles in my chest like ice - not just the loss of a powerful weapon, but the severance of a bond barely formed. A blade of justice, choosing me for fate's purpose, and I surrender it to these... remnants.
My jaw tightens against words that want to spill forth, challenges and defiance that would only result in bloodshed
My companions' lives weigh more than my pride. More than this bond. More than destiny's plans. In the Feywild, such a choice would mark me as diminished. But exile has taught harder lessons about what truly matters.
As I place Sempach down, frost spreads across the floor from my feet
May we meet again under better circumstances, friend. And may these bones prove worthy of carrying you until then.
The cold fury doesn't leave - it settles deeper, transforms into something more lasting. This isn't over. This is merely
my eyes meet the skeletal knight's empty sockets
a tactical retreat. Sometimes the greatest victory comes from knowing when to step back, regroup, and return better prepared.
A winter's patience can outlast any storm.
My steps echo hollowly through these cursed halls as we make our retreat, each one feeling heavier than the last...
The weight of failure sits like ice in my chest. Not just the loss of Sempach - though that cuts deeper than I expected - but the knowledge that we were forced into this position at all. My training in the Twilight Wardens taught me to anticipate threats, to prepare for any contingency. Yet here we were, outmatched and cornered. I knew with all the magical energy that has occurred over the past day there would be eyes on us, and I failed…
My hand absently touches where the sword had rested
In just our brief time together, Sempach showed more nobility than most beings I've known. Willing to endure captivity to spare lives...
frost crystallizes in my quiet exhale
Much like my own exile - sometimes the harder path is the right one.
Zephyr's presence on my shoulder offers what comfort it can, but even my oldest friend's support can't fully thaw this new layer of winter settling in my spirit. Looking at my companions - Cathllynn's quiet strength, Dorian's determined stride, Lilly's resilient spirit - I know I made the right choice. Their lives are worth more than any blade, even one touched by celestial purpose.
Yet questions gnaw at me like winter winds. Why were those skeletal knights seeking Sempach specifically? What power do they serve? Was this Hallister’s doing? the Feywild, such direct confrontation would suggest larger schemes at work. Here in Nehwon, I find myself struggling to read the signs.
My fingers trace the holy symbol of Freyja and Titania
Both my patrons would understand this choice, I think. Protection of companions over pride. Tactical retreat over glorious defeat. But understanding doesn't make the bitter taste of retreat any sweeter.
The convergence of powers in that tower - Cathllynn's journey to the Feywild, Sempach's appearance, these undead warriors with purpose - none of it feels random. We've stumbled into something larger than ourselves, and now we've lost a powerful ally before truly understanding our role in it all.
As we near the exit, my resolve hardens like deepening frost
This isn't over. We'll return - stronger, wiser, better prepared. Those bones may have Sempach for now, but fate brought us together for a reason. And if my time in exile has taught me anything, it's patience. The board is larger than we can see, the pieces still moving into place.
For now, we withdraw. We protect what matters most - each other. But winter's memory is long, and revenge, like justice, is a dish best served cold.
A final glance back towards the depths
Keep your honor bright, Sempach. We will meet again.