The full account of the Wyrmblood Glacier Heist has been faithfully reproduced above. For the sake of a complete collection of story variances, however, an additional entry is appended here. Through much effort, this ending has been traced to a certain untrustworthy bartender who will neither confirm nor deny that they personally constructed it in its entirety. This addition is markedly inconsistent with both the previously established account and The Jackal's general strength of character, so it is the opinion of this party that the entry below is no more than utter fabrication. Whether its creator had narrative qualms with the tale's true ending or if this was merely another attempt to slander our hero has not been determined. While both rarely spoken and factually inaccurate, this is indeed a sometime heard iteration of the tale, so it is nonetheless included in this private collection.
The Shadowhearth never said a word to me. Never had to. All it really made me feel was this sort of... resonance? Like it belongs with me. Same kinda feeling as slipping on a nice custom-fitted glove. But what kind of hero tells you he feels perfectly in sync with a relic of hatred and desolation? Not a good one, that's for sure!
But that's what I feel. That resonance. Every part of me that already tends toward those things? They're growing stronger by the minute. Or, that seems right... but it's funny. Everyone I came across during all that... Couldn't say I felt an ounce of hate for them. Maybe that part just didn't hit me, for some reason. Did still feel that hint of wrongness, though. The shadows. But if anything? I kinda liked the feeling. That maybe they'd destroy me.
...What? Sorry. Um... As for the cultists, there were probably... fifteen? Twenty?—left. They didn't muster any forces to stop me. That guard must not've been in any hurry to get the word out, because everybody was still minding their own business. Including the people who took my stuff. And I am not leaving this place without every single thing I brought into it. Have I mentioned those daggers are expensive?
So that's where I'm headed. Doesn't take any fancy magic for the shadows to get stronger as I move along. They just do. Seep deeper in, make themselves at home. It's kinda soothing, somehow. Having something else there, that should be there, taking over. Still couldn't say they're controlling me. Several times through all of this, it crosses my mind that I could try pushing them away. That I ought to, before there's no turning back. But honestly? I can't find it in me to care. Maybe they'll fully control me, eventually. Maybe they'll corrupt every part of my mind they touch until you couldn't call what's left me. But so what? Go right ahead. There's no one here worth fighting for. Just take it all. GOOD RIDDANCE.
I—Where was I...? Right. So... I find the group with my stuff. There's four of them, I think? Hard to remember every piece of this. That's not a shadow thing, though, just happens all the time. Anyway, I end up killing them, probably self-defense. It's too easy to even call a fight. Still couldn't tell you what the Shadowhearth's power actually does, but I don't think they could see me, at the very least. Which, once again, is kinda baseline for me anyway? But with the shape I was in at the time, something weird had to be going on.
Then I find myself dragging the bodies back to the maelstrom. But isn't it supposed to feed on life energy? These guys're already dead, so will throwing them in even do anything? Maybe I'm just curious. But they must be good enough somehow—when the maelstrom takes them, I immediately sense the Shadowhearth growing stronger. Sense me growing stronger. And it feels so good that I just keep going. Find the guard, throw her to the maelstrom. Hunt down another group, pick them off, offer them up. Another. Another. I'm more shadow than man now. And I love it. How long's it been since I've felt this good, this fulfilled, this whole? Ages. Ages. I can't give this up. This will be my mission now. Keep throwing people to the maelstrom, until this strength is all I ever have to feel anymore, or until I'm gone altogether. Yes, I think that's exactly what I'll do. Keep feeding the shadows. Keep getting stronger. Stay here with the Shadowhearth forever.
But that sentiment's enough to jar me to my senses for half a minute. I'm a wanderer, you know? I'm not staying anywhere.
...But I am here for now. Might as well have the shadows fill me as much as humanly possible before I finally move on. Best of both worlds.
So I hunt. Throughout the glacier, every follower I can find, whether they're ready to fight or flee or surrender, I don't care. They're nothing to me but fodder now. And as the Shadowhearth's power grows, it takes less and less effort to kill them off. Don't know how many there end up being, but I pick the place clean. The Shadowhearth's burning darker now. The heat's melting things away. Weakening the ice. Digging more fissures into the ground. The shadows are so deeply entrenched in me now, I can't remember what it was like to live without them. I couldn't bear to live without them now. I will never push them back. I will let them—no, I NEED them to consume me completely. No part of me is worth saving. Let the shadows take it all. Take it now. DESTROY ME. GOOD RIDDANCE.
...Where...
I... I was...
...Okay. So, I have no intention of stopping what I'm doing. Gotta go beyond the glacier for fodder now. No circles anywhere close, so it's travelers. Probably have nothing to do with the cult. No reason to die. Kill them anyway. Have to feed the maelstrom. Have to keep this power-high going. Have to fulfill my new purpose. Because isn't it wonderful to have a purpose again?
I deliver the most recent batch of bodies to the maelstrom and start to head out for more. The Shadowhearth is so strong now. Completely intoxicating. Even with my nigh-injury-proof palms, I think it's giving off enough heat to burn me anywhere else close enough. Good. Do all the harm you can. Make it hurt.
...I don't see any cause for alarm. Don't know if I even feel alarm anymore. Nothing left here but power.
I'm at the wall of curses when it caves in. Turns out I can still feel some alarm. But it's not for my wellbeing. I clutch the Shadowhearth to me with both hands, even as it burns into my chest. I don't care, don't care about the ground giving way, don't care about the falling blocks of ice, don't care about anything but keeping my hold on the Shadowhearth at any cost.
And I succeed. Even with its power, it's a rough fall, but I at least melt away any debris that's aiming to hit me. Eventually the glacier calms down. Not sure how far the damage spread. Felt like more than this cave for sure. But none of that means a thing. I still have the relic. The power. The shadows. Everything that matters.
Among the dripping and splintering and still-settling rubble, I barely hear the cry. I turn towards it, no sense of urgency, just wondering if some straggler finally showed up—good, an easy kill. But that's not what I see.
It somehow never hit me until then. For that entire stint with the shadows, I forgot Enthr. I have not fed him or watered him or tended to him in any way for days and now he is collapsed and bleeding on the ice.
I drop the Shadowhearth. The second I lose contact, everything snaps back—no shadows, no power, and every ounce of exhaustion and injury I've accrued over the past few days slamming back into me all at once. I try to sprint to Enthr, but my progress is too pathetic to call running. I still make it, eventually. The good thing about ice is, he's not bleeding as badly as he would without it. But it's still too much. Any would be too much. I struggle to treat him as well as I can when I'm falling apart, too.
And that's enough of this place. We've gotta get somewhere safer. The Shadowhearth pulls my gaze its way. Somehow it isn't melting straight through the ice even though I can feel its heat from here. It'd easily give me the strength to make it out of here, no matter what other dangers I might have to face.
But I can't bear to touch it again. I can maneuver it into a pouch without making contact, but that only makes my burden a little heavier. It won't lend me its strength without contact. But it is what I came here for, and I hate to leave empty-handed. So I try to ignore the heat, make absolutely sure Enthr's safely in my arms, and start the hard journey out.
I make it, somehow. It's a while before I'm in any shape to track my buyer down. But that exchange is done. Shadowhearth's out of my hands for good. And with how much damage it'd wreak on unarmored flesh, it won't be falling into anyone else's, not literally. The glacier's in shambles, and the maelstrom easily coulda been destroyed, too. If not, anyone else who wanted to feed it is dead, anyway. So... that's it for that relic. Done and dusted.
End of story.