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The story of a decline

Eeri arrived breathless at the top of the hill. Just a few years earlier, coming this far would have been child's play, running straight ahead and avoiding the blows.
Now she had to be careful with every step, avoid predators and manage what little energy she had left. A few dozen meters further down, she had almost come face to face with a cuttler she hadn't seen. But luck was on her side, and the predator turned his back just as he could have seen her. But in the end, there she was. The top of the hill at the end of destiny, where she was pretty sure she'd find her old companion.

A few hours earlier, she had stopped off at the Fairhaven bar. Was there any other place like it, on the bark, where literally every sound, every rumor, was in transit? She sat down for a break and a fresh byrh. Her potions were ready, but she hadn't been able to find the fyros. She had to ask her band of Drakans for a hand. These specialists in the art of leaving their ears everywhere would not refuse to help her find the fyros. Bellandrha quickly told him that she had spoken to a certain Firal, who had told her he was looking for Eeri. Then collective memory recalled Azazor's attraction to this part of the Nexus, where he had camped for weeks before disappearing.

Then this letter. This curious Tryker, O'Tall, paid to hand her a hastily written rag. A list of ingredients and a letter in which "a friend of the heroes of the road to Oflovak" declared herself innocent, and said she didn't understand a word of the list she'd obtained. At the same time, she implied that it was the antidote that could save the fyros, to "remove the spiders that are eating his brains".

It was too much, and on the face of it, nothing Eeri could trust.

But when she reached the top of the hill, instead of looking for the fyros, Eeri took the letter out of her bag, and looked through the list of ingredients. Next, alchemist's formulas. Eeri's grounding in this field, although she had studied the subject years before, didn't allow her to understand everything, but she could at least detect that these were serious formulas, put there by an expert hand.

Who else but the person responsible for the poisoning would be able to provide an antidote? Eeri had learned this years earlier, when she had bought a poison and paid for her imprudence.

For a moment, she was tempted to let the rag fly away, let it slip from her hand and watch it disappear with the Nexus wind. But a silhouette, a little further away, was watching her. The fyros was there, waiting for her.

---

Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"
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