When the dust had settled, we realized we were a member short. Moraine, though arguably the most powerful of us, was also physically the weakest, and there was no sign of him on this side of the tunnel collapse. We dug, futilely, I knew, for some time, before we tired and gave up hope. He had caused the cave in, but he had also saved us many times, and traveled with us for some years. We made camp there, Aria tending to the halfling's injuries, hoping the wizard would appear in the night, proving us wrong.
He did not.
This cider is the futility of hope, and the steadily encroaching night.
Reviewed on 01 Apr 2025
