The Mystic

As we linger, undecided, the clairvoyant nods sagely. “You may hide,” she whispers, “but you cannot escape Him.”

There is a brief glimmer of pearlescent white — the sound of an owl, hooting across the bog. Then both fog and woman are gone. We stand alone in the Mire, under a hastily rising moon.

  • All travellers gain the Curse of the Mystic. If this is the party's third Curse, click here.

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