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(Back in the Evergreen Harbor, silence falls around Suzana as she prepares the ritual Orpheus taught her).
"By flame unbroken, by crystal cracked,
Reveal the truth that shadows backed.
From blood and dust, let veils descend—
So secrets buried shall transcend."
She gasps and looks up. Her pupils shimmer silver. The spell has opened a vision. Floating before her, like film projected into mist, is a clandestine meeting— buried.
"This is the down payment. Ravenwood crystal dust. Refined. You may it Blood of Gehenna. It'll make you feel like gods."
"Strauss knows a lot about the crystals. He has the Mystical Moonlight Crystal Grid in his Chantry and knows how to locate the Crown".
"Besides, I know he'll ask those meddling neonates for help, which will give you a chance to get revenge and give my men time to figure out a way to open that damn crypt".
"Burn the chantry. In return, Windenburg remains Sabbat Territory—no Camarilla influence. That is the deal."
"Remember, It'll make you feel like gods. Just don't breathe too deep."
"I never do. And what if the others find out?"
"They won’t. The Chantry will burn. The ashes won't talk."
(Every conspiracy has a witness).
(The coterie returns to the Chantry. The ritual has ended, but the consequences are just beginning).
"Victor Blackwood betrayed us. He sold out the Chantry. And he's arming the Sabbat with Ravenwood poison."
"If someone captured that deal on camera... they’d go straight to Gary Golden. The Nosferatu Primogen loves leverage. He trades in secrets like we trade spells."
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(At the Base Camp, stone dragons guard the path. Everything hums with a forgotten power. Former Sages—smiling and radiant—gather here like echoes of forgotten legends).
(Suzana lights a fire at the Shrine of the Phoenix).
Suzana: “Let renewal begin with flame.”
“Orym? Didn’t expect to find you here.”
Orym: “I come when called... and the dragons whispered your names.”
“Queen to C5.”
Ena: “Impressive. You think like someone who’s lived twice.”
Rebecca: “Technically, I have.”
“You’re Rohannah Nasir? You’ve got serious aura.”
Rohannah: “It’s the ambition. And four siblings. You learn to stand firm.”
( The coterie approaches the ancient Temple of the Dragon).
Leslie: “That dragon looks like it’s watching us. No pressure.”
Rebecca: “I’m used to an audience.”
They find Orpheus—half-man, half-dragon—seated on a throne of stone and silence. His skin bears golden-green scales, and his horns gleam in the torchlight.
“At last... visitors. And one of them dares wear a Tremere sigil.”
"Once, I was a man of melody and mortal sorrow. A bard of the old ways. I sang for Eurydice in the gardens of Glimmerbrook. But she was taken—not by fate, but by fear. The Order of Silence struck her down, believing our bond too unnatural... too powerful."
"I descended into the chasms of the Arcane Veins to bargain for her soul. But I was told that music—my music—was not enough. I needed power. So I came here, to the edge of the unknowable, where dragons are born from thought and breath."
Rebecca shifts, watching him closely. Amy leans back against a column. Suzana remains motionless.
Orpheus (quietly):
"They did not welcome me. They are older than time, arrogant in ways only fire can be. But I did not try to defeat them—I listened. I played for them. My strings hummed their story, and they… allowed me to stay."
Orpheus:
"I changed. Slowly. Scales, yes. And horns. But more than that—my mind unraveled and reformed, like molting skin. The man I was dissolved... and something ancient replaced him."
Leslie mutters under her breath: “Symbiosis, or infection?”
Orpheus (smiling faintly):
"Both. I am not what I was. But the loneliness... the silence... it gnaws deeper than dragonfangs. No one comes here anymore. Not to visit. Not to fight. Not to sing."
He stands—regal and tragic.
Orpheus:
"So here is my offer, vampires! Entertain me. Challenge me. Give me a moment of living rhythm, and I shall give you what you seek. I will teach you the song of my Lament. But I must feel again. I must be reminded... what it is to be alive."
He turns to Suzana and gives a crooked smile.
Orpheus:
"You... Tremere. You have the weight of purpose. Duel me—not to destroy, but to compose. And if your magic moves me... I will remember what it means to hope."
A heavy silence falls. Then Suzana steps forward, eyes cold, lips set.
Suzana:
"Then let us play, Orpheus. One verse each. Let the winner write the next stanza of this world."
Orpheus: “Let’s make this dance memorable.”
He smiles, melancholic but excited. Suzana (to herself): “He’s powerful... and not entirely sane.”
Orpheus: “Your discipline is strong... but can you feel the music?”
Suzana: “I make it.”
Orpheus conjures a dragon made of pure magical energy.
Amy (whispering): “You’ve got this, Suz.”
Orpheus scowls.
Orpheus: “You are interesting.”
Suzana: “I came for knowledge. Not a spectacle.”
Orpheus: “You are worthy... even if you fight with fear. The ritual is yours.”
