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Summary
Now that Mizora has allowed Wyll to tell his companions the story of his pact and subsequent exile, Irva’s heart begins to sink. After all, Wyll’s story leaves out an important detail — one she can recall intimately.
A young man — a boy, really — stood slowly before her. His hand was remarkably steady as it retrieved his blade. His face, which still had spots and had been contorted in a scream just seconds earlier, was firm and resolute. Blood poured down his cheek from a destroyed, unseeing eye.
Dagger raised, Irva didn’t know why she hesitated then…
…and she doesn’t know why she hesitates now.
In which Wyll happens to falls in love with a cleric of Tiamat — one he has unknowingly met before.