This was wrong.

Diath has never set foot in Elturel, and yet here he is, racing towards the explosion and seething with anger over the attack on his liege lord. Who? The vow that is pouring out of him sounds completely alien to his own ears yet feels perfectly natural. I’ve served Lord Dhelt for years, never failed in my duty until now--but I’ve never laid eyes on this man in my life.

They were camping when the mist surrounded them, Diath remembers. There was no cutthroat to chase, no amulet to retrieve. This wasn’t how it happened...was it?

No. This was all wrong.

They're talking like characters in a badly-written novel, and when Diath asks where Paultin’s wandered off to, he is met with blank confused stares. But it’s not until they come across the signpost of the Old Svalich Road that Diath’s heart begins to race.

This isn’t happening. We can’t be here. We escaped. We defeated him, we crossed the gates, we’re supposed to be free!

A low mocking laugh makes his blood run cold. He whirls all around but can’t find the source, then realizes it’s coming from him.

He pulls Mr. Shambleface out of his pack and stares at it in horror. Marring its grinning porcelain face is a hairline crack, which grows wider and deeper until the doll shatters in his hands--

Diath wrestled off the bedcovers and launched himself towards the dresser drawer, yanking it completely out of its housing. The thud of it against the floor startled Strix right out of her sleep.

“Whazza--? What, what’s going on?”

Diath didn’t respond right away, instead gulping air back into his lungs as his mind at last caught up with his senses. The moonlight clearly showed the doll was undamaged, safe in its protective cloth swaddling. They were at the Inn of the Dripping Dagger, in Waterdeep. Not the Old Svalich Road. Not Barovia.

The tiefling tried again. “Diath? What’s wrong!?”

He raised a shaky hand to calm her, not wanting to worry her further or wake Evelyn and Paultin. Trembling slightly, the rogue gently slid the drawer back into the dresser and gingerly made his way back to bed. “Sorry. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

Strix slowly curled back up into a ball, and anxiously twisted a corner of her bedsheets in her hands as she stared hard at the dresser drawer.

“Yeah,” she whispered to herself, “...just a dream.”