Black Orchid

The message came in on paper that smelled of ash. No seal. No signature. Just a single sentence scrawled in Undercommon -

“Sszar’Morin has fallen.”

Syndris didn’t react at first. She sat in silence, reading it again and again, her thumb running across the jagged script. Her first thought was betrayal - someone trying to draw her out of hiding, into a trap. But then she heard the whispers. Underdark rumors spread like poison through the veins - quiet and persistent, and impossible to stop if not done fast enough. And they were all saying the same thing.

That House Sszar’Morin was wiped out overnight.

The rumors came from caravan guards and contract killers. From various dens Syndris moved in, veiled in false names and her sharp instincts. Every tunnel had a new version, but the core always remained the same.

“The guards didn’t even scream.”
“There were no alarms.”
“He moved like he knew the halls.”

Sszar’morin. Her former employer. She hadn’t thought about the place for a while. Not since the betrayal, when the Zyn’quar Morin were shattered. They had been amongst the most dangerous strike teams in the Underdark, precise and deadly. And then, broken. All because of one mission turned into a trap. Syndris remembered the chaos. Belaern’s voice through the smoke. Vaerith trying to reach his brother. Gods, Vaerith… he had died trying. Cut down where he stood.

The rumors persisted. Syndris collected them, digging deeper still.

“Sszar’Morin’s priestesses died before they could even cast a spell.”
“He was fast. Too fast. One of the guards emptied a crossbow quiver into him, and he didn’t even flinch.”
“One attacker. They call him the Ghost Blade.”

Syndris felt the vial in her palm crack slightly from the pressure of her grip. She didn’t want to believe it, but she had to see for herself.

She arrived at the ruins of House Sszar’Morin in silence. None of the sounds she’d usually hear were present. It was too quiet, the type of quiet she’d normally associate with a mission completed. The gates were torn open, barely hanging onto their hinges. Syndris moved through the shadows, vials and blades ready.

She didn’t expect to find survivors. She expected signs or clues. She expected to pick apart whatever assassin had done this and trace their scent to whoever pulled the strings.

She didn’t expect the air to change behind her. Didn’t expect the blow that slammed her across the chamber. She hit the ground hard, rolled to her feet, and immediately hurled a flash-powder vial. Light burst into the chamber with a loud pop. That’s when she saw him.

Black, seamless armor. No house insignia. In his hands were two curved blades. One of his arms moved down, having covered his eyes from the blinding light. The figure lunged, faster than Syndris eyes could follow.

She barely ducked in time, feeling the blade whistle past her head, and twisted into a counterstrike. Her dagger scraped against armor that didn’t give. The assassin pressed forward without hesitation. No words or flourishes, he just kept coming. Every movement precise and measured.

Syndris struck again. She blocked and redirected. Tried a feint, but it was denied. The assassin read her, anticipated every move like he’d seen it before. Syndris gritted her teeth - she was fast. She was good. But this…

The assassin was stronger than any drow should be. Faster. He lunged again, blade flashing towards her throat. She ducked, twisted and brought her dagger up. She managed to catch the edge of his mask, and felt a crack.

He lunged again, and Syndris barely slipped beneath the blow, slamming a gas vial into his side. The contents hissed into his face. He stumbled, just a step. Just enough.

She drove a knee into his side, followed with a blade to the shoulder, and slammed the pommel of her dagger into his face. The mask fractured and split. The assassin turned to face her as the last fragments fell away.

Syndris breath caught.

The face beneath the mask was the same. Paler, gaunter maybe, and the eyes colder, but unmistakably the same. The same face she had seen fall before her, lifeless.

She froze.

“Vaerith?” she whispered.

Vaerith stared at her. Something flickered, just for a second, then vanished.

“Who the hell is Vaerith?”