Razvahn quickly makes his way to the Dancing Donkey to meet with his party and share what he learned from Sandier. 
Once her arrives, he insists that they get a room for privacy, and he quickly lays out his visions for them. Falon is both bewildered and intrigued. The old creation stories of the Shadowfell and Feywild tell of two crowns, and two kingdoms, but not sister anything, let alone sister “queens”. When Razvahn offers up the cup of Hag’s Brew to the party, saying that the monstrous woman had promised answers about Jared with it, Matchstick apprehensively begins trying to manipulate the liquid. Recognizing the means to the end, Falon grabs the concoction and swallows it in one gulp. He finds himself standing before Jared as he walks with the caravan…
He thought nothing of it, a biting fly perhaps, or an errant thorn nestled into his gear. It was cold and sharp and somehow silver-blue and his animal brain cried out at the invasion. But the man simply puzzled for a moment and then disregarded the sensation.
Jared’s thoughts were heavy. Though he had been in the Broker’s employ for years and had the consummate mercenary’s disregard for danger or irregularity as anything other than factors to complicate a successful mission, something about this job didn’t sit right. He’d worked with the Watchers before,
of course, and had the disdain and suspicion of them that any creature who lives by his own physical skill and natural machinery will have for a made thing. But on this journey he felt the weight of their presence more keenly. There was a gnawing unease and, as the days went on, a sort of itchy weight,
There were also, at times flashes of…something. Something sharp and silver against the cool steel of his own thoughts. It surfaced and disappeared in an instant like a minnow darting in a brook. So quickly he could not be sure it had even been there. And because he had greater concerns at present than following such errant threads, he put them from his mind.
And then one night he wrenched upright out of sleep screaming, howling in pain and bewilderment. Something, that cold silver blue singing, something…barging through, boring into his brains, his bones, his self.
Only he hadn’t moved at all. Though every fiber in him seemed to writhe in protest, his body lay nestled into his pelts and wool blankets. He felt both, was both – the shallow steady breathing like a sun-drunk child might breath, and the incredible, incendiary pain. And above all, a sort of cackling, an electric, overwhelming singing and crashing and canting in words he could not understand but which compelled him toward some terrible action he could not yet know. He rebelled even as he was consumed by the sound like waves. But then- silence. In his mind and in the night outside…
Falon is transported the the entrance of the city of Split. Both Jared and Crucible stand fast against the stream of terrified people trying to run from the colapsing city.
The Behemoth is towering over the buildings, and Jared is yelling at the fleeing people to run faster, as well as screaming for his own men and good friends. Behind him, Crucible suddenly brings his large staff down atop his head. The mercenary crumples, and groggily looks back and forth from his prone position. The shaman bends over and places his hand over Jared’s head while chanting. The throng of panicing citizens are too busy rushing past to notice, but Falon stands still as people run through his form like apparitions. As Crucible chants, wires creep out of his palms toward slowly sprouting wires from Jared’s scalp. When they make contact for the briefest instant, the half-orc smiles and retracts his hand. Jared fully passes out, and Falon’s vision fades as Crucible walks away…
When Falon regains his senses, he is lying on the floor of the rented room. He burps up a slimy rat, but pays it no mind as he frantically scrawls out on some parchment what he saw in his vision. The party decides to go see Gale at the safe house to get any news from the Wall, and maybe share information as to what they’ve learned.
When they arrive at the safe house Gale introduces them to several new recruits. Two Ratfolk, a Dragonborn, and a Kobold. While sizing them up, Leaf recognizes a pendant on the Kobold’s robes as the insignia of the People’s Flight- the same pendant 
the House Delphenor man at the inn was wearing that Falon had killed earlier. Gale introduces everyone and offers up the idea of a combat trial as a second part of the initiates trial. He takes the party aside and confesses that he had already told the new recruits that one of their party was an agent of the Broker, just to get in their heads, and that he would make sure that though it would be a hard figth, that no one would die. He leaves them in a small side study so he can prep the combat area. After a short conversation, Gale stumbles back into the room with a belt pulled tight at his elbow, acting as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from his freshly severed arm. He gasps that he may have spoken too soon, and that the new recruits were actual Broker agents.
The party makes sure that Gale will survive his wounds, then continues on to engage the enemy. It is a hard won fight that comes to an end only when the Kobold begs for, and willingingly, accepts a killing blow and explodes himself as wires begin to creep out of his wounds.
The party make their way back into the safe house. Bloodied, tired, and annoyed at their near deaths, they decide to see what kind of supplies the safe house has to offer before boarding their train in a few hours…
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