Then why leave this one behind?Loghain’s tone was flat, but his eyes betrayed the calculation behind it, thinking, weighing, already plotting what this might mean. He let Morrigan tug him back, but not too far. He kept his sword lowered but ready, like any soldier trained to expect betrayal from even the half-dead.
He looked again at the fading magic Morrigan had exposed, the ghost-trail of something older, quieter. His brow furrowed.
She knew we'd find it. Or you would. That’s not chance.
His eyes found Morrigan’s, sharp and unwavering.
You said she only wanted daughters. This thing…he gestured with his chin toward the half-rotted figure
…wasn’t chosen. Wasn’t taken. Which means it’s either a mistake she let live, or a message she meant us to read. And I don’t believe Flemeth made mistakes.
His gaze drifted back to the creature, still twitching softly like a string left trembling on a lyre.
What are you, really? Not just a corpse. Not just some cast-off. There’s something more, and we’re not leaving until we find out what it is.
Then he stepped to Morrigan’s side, voice low so only she could hear.
If it *is* one of her failed children, then it knows her, maybe better than even you. That kind of knowledge is dangerous. But useful. We can't burn it until we’ve heard everything.
His tone was cold. Strategic. The way it used to be in war councils, just before the blood started flowing.
So what do you want to ask it, before I put a sword through its spine?
@Morrigan
05-05-2025, 08:48 AM
