A small, fledgling tree stood alone in the pocket dimension, its few leaves trembling in a nonexistent breeze. Fiona had been tending to it, but her mind was elsewhere. Why hadn't the others arrived? Had they abandoned her?
Just as panic began to set in, the paper man appeared. But something was wrong. A faint, black aura clung to him, an aura of madness.
"Mr. Paper Man," Fiona said, her voice trembling slightly, "I was told that the one who presides over knowledge is... unwell. That contact with unknown lore can lead to madness. The warning came from a divine oracle."
Ephram's paper form went rigid. "My Lord... has fallen? He has become an evil god?"
The realization hit him like a physical blow. The rage, the violent thoughts... it wasn't him. It was a corruption seeping into him from his divine patron.
Fiona felt a pang of pity for him. To have the god you've dedicated your life to turn to evil... a cleric had only two choices: fall with them, or renounce their faith and lose all their power.
Iyet and their host arrived moments later. "The stench of corruption," Iyet said, his eyes narrowing at Ephram. "You've been consorting with a dark power."
"His god has fallen," Fiona explained.
"The God of Knowledge... has fallen," Iyet repeated, stunned.
Leo was equally shocked. Oghma, the ancient and powerful God of Knowledge, had fallen? This was a cataclysmic event.
"I must leave the Gray Keep," Ephram said, his voice strained. "It is no longer safe. The Archbishop has already fallen. I saw the signs. He has sealed the fortress, ostensibly to keep evil out, but I know it is to keep us in. Soon, the 'Grace' will be bestowed, and we will all be corrupted."
He looked at their host. "Your Excellency, I beg your help. Help me escape, and I will pay any price."
To extract someone from a fallen god's holy-seat-turned-abattoir... it would be difficult. But not impossible.
"It can be done," Leo said.
"Thank you, Your Excellency," Ephram said, relief washing over him.
Then, Iyet spoke. "Your Excellency, I am ready to name my reward for the information I provided last time."
"Speak," Leo said.
"The God of Artifice sent an avatar to consume me," Iyet explained. "I managed to turn the tables and absorb it instead. I am now masquerading as his avatar, but he will discover the deception soon. I need you to cloud his senses, to make him believe I am truly his servant."
To deceive a god? A difficult task. But he could use the Loom.
"I have a better way," Ephram interrupted. He turned to Iyet. "There was a profession, long ago. They did not worship the gods, but stole from them. They were called Profane Priests."