The cool air of the surface world, crisp and laden with the scents of earth and leaves, was an unfamiliar balm to Sylas Xarann. Every breath was a reminder that he no longer dwelled in the suffocating depths of the Underdark, where the stagnant air clung to his skin like a second layer. Yet, even beneath the vast canopy of stars that shimmered overhead, a piece of that darkness still clung to him—an inescapable shadow that he couldn't quite shake.
Sylas stood alone at the edge of a glimmering forest glade, bathed in the soft light of the waxing moon. The silver rays felt like a whisper of the Dark Maiden, Eilistraee, the goddess who had pulled him from the abyss of his past. He closed his eyes, feeling the moonlight wash over his face, hoping to find solace in it. For a moment, he did.
But it was fleeting.
The distant screech of a hunting owl tore through the silence, and Sylas's hand instinctively flew to the hilt of his blade. Old habits died hard. His body was trained to survive, to anticipate danger in every sound, every shadow. Here, under the moonlit sky, was no different.
He opened his eyes again, scanning the clearing. Nothing but the rustle of leaves and the gentle swaying of the trees. Yet Sylas knew better than to trust peace; he had learned long ago that safety was an illusion. Especially for one such as him—a drow who had betrayed everything the Underdark stood for.
His scarred hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, the cold metal reassuring in his grip. Moonshadow, it was called. Forged by the hands of Eilistraee's most devout blacksmiths, the blade hummed faintly in the night air, attuned to the power of the moonlight. With it, Sylas had cut down those who would spread Lolth's web of cruelty, and with it, he hoped to redeem his own soul.
A twig snapped behind him.
Sylas whirled around, Moonshadow drawn in an instant, its steel gleaming under the moon's glow. His eyes, sharp and accustomed to darkness, found the source. A figure emerged from the shadows of the trees, cloaked in dark armor, but with the familiar insignia of Eilistraee's Sentinels gleaming on their chest.
"Easy, Xarann," came a familiar voice. "You're among friends here."
The speaker stepped into the moonlight, revealing the stern but reassuring face of Sir Althar, one of the older knights of the Order. His silver hair, tied back in a neat braid, shone like the moon itself, and his deep blue eyes held an amused glint. Sylas relaxed slightly but did not lower his weapon.
"Force of habit," Sylas muttered, sheathing his blade.
Althar chuckled softly and crossed his arms. "You've been with us long enough that the surface should feel like home by now." He glanced up at the moon, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. "Though I imagine the Underdark doesn't loosen its grip so easily."
"It doesn't," Sylas admitted, his voice quiet. "Some nights, I still feel it... calling."
Althar frowned, his amusement fading. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Sylas's shoulder. "The Spider Queen's grasp is insidious. She doesn't let her children go without a fight. But you're stronger than that, Sylas. Eilistraee's light will guide you through the darkness—so long as you let it."
The younger knight nodded, though a part of him still doubted. It was true that the Dark Maiden had offered him a path to redemption, a way out of the shadows. But even here, under her watchful moon, the darkness within him felt overwhelming at times. The hatred, the anger—both at Lolth and at himself—never truly left him. It gnawed at his soul, threatening to consume him whole if he allowed it.
Althar seemed to sense his inner turmoil. He withdrew his hand and gave a thoughtful nod toward the distant treeline. "There's something stirring in the woods tonight. The scouts report movement near the northern ridge—a disturbance that may be more than just wild beasts. The Order's asked me to lead a small contingent to investigate. I'd like you to come with me."
Sylas met his gaze, feeling a surge of purpose ripple through him. He nodded once. "Lead the way."
Together, the two knights made their way through the forest, the sound of their boots barely a whisper against the forest floor. The night was eerily quiet, with only the occasional rustle of leaves or distant animal call breaking the stillness. Sylas kept his senses alert, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.
As they neared the northern ridge, Althar raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. He crouched low, peering through the thick brush. Sylas followed suit, his muscles tensing as he caught sight of movement ahead.
At the edge of the treeline, a small group of figures moved silently through the forest, their shapes indistinct but unmistakably drow. Sylas's heart raced as he recognized the sigils on their armor—House Xorlarrin, a powerful house loyal to Lolth. His old enemies.
"They must be hunting me," Sylas whispered, his voice a mix of dread and fury. "They've tracked me even here."
Althar's face darkened, but he didn't seem surprised. "I suspected as much. The Spider Queen rarely lets her prey slip away without a fight. But we won't let them take you, Sylas."
Sylas clenched his fists, the darkness inside him stirring with violent intensity. His old hatred flared to life, and he had to force himself to remain still, to keep from charging into the fray. Not yet, he told himself. Not without reason.
"They've sent hunters before," Sylas said, his voice low and controlled, though every muscle in his body burned with tension. "This time will be no different."
Althar placed a hand on his shoulder once more, grounding him. "Remember your teachings, Xarann. Eilistraee's light is with you. Fight for redemption, not revenge."
Sylas closed his eyes briefly, letting the knight's words sink in. He wasn't the same vengeful soul he had once been. He had chosen a new path, a better path. And though the hatred still burned inside him, he would not let it control him.
When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with cold determination.
"Let's end this," he whispered, drawing Moonshadow from its sheath.
The moonlight seemed to gather around him as he rose to his feet, his blade gleaming like a beacon in the darkness. And with Althar at his side, Sylas Xarann stepped forward to meet the hunters of the Underdark—no longer as prey, but as a Knight of the Dark Maiden.