"Perhaps Lady Luck is on your side today."

He reaches inside the bag. When he touches the knife, his voice takes on a harsh, scratchy tone, with a faint buzzing to his z sounds. This time, he describes a story of an intelligent insect-like creature tearing apart its own parent and feasting on its corpse, before rejoicing at its power compared to its Abyssal brethren.

"...I am sorry you had to hear that. But I think you are right that there is great power in this knife, however wretched its origins."

Camellia stares at him intently. "Its previous owner was... a demon, then?"

"It seems so, though it would be a very unusual demon to have a childhood in the mortal fashion within the Abyss."

"That's - not very consistent with what it - showed me; could it be... lying or something? To one or the other of us?"

"Can you tell me more of what you saw? An object with the power of this one can bear many stories, but the one I saw was by far the strongest."

"I saw - a thing of Law, seeking to prohibit irregular breaches between planes. ...it did not like the knife but the knife is what carried the vision."

"...That does seem rather different, yes." He pauses for a moment, humming softly. "It would be exceedingly difficult to deceive my sight, at least in the way you seem to be imagining. I do not know how difficult it would have been to deceive yours. It is possible that a powerful illusion or a divine vision could confuse one who has rarely been graced with such visions. But it is also possible that its story was louder when you saw the vision, and has since become one voice among many in the chorus, though I do not have a guess as to why."

"It seemed like it might be in the process of - dispersing?" offers Blai. "It was hard to interpret."

"That could explain it, yes, if its dispersal led its voice to fade away nearly into nothingness."

"You would know more than I about how anything like this works, I imagine. Will it serve or should we be looking for alternative objects?"

"I think it will serve, yes. Though be warned that it is an instrument of violence, not of healing, and that may be reflected in how it purges the corruption."

"From the sound of it, that's not a bad thing. If the demons have gotten into the stone somehow, a weapon's going to be of more use driving them out than a healing potion."

"If this is all operating on some kind of metaphorical level maybe it would leave the Wardstone with scars or something," Blai replies dubiously. "I'll keep an eye out."

Back to the market to check on Inquisitor Shappok.

The market square continues to be in the same location! Here's the elf girl again, sitting on the steps of a house near where they first met her, speaking with a man whose injuries have been just barely mended with healing magic. 

"...sense to me," she's saying. "You thought they were your friends, and that they cared about you. You thought that if you helped them hurt people they would help you too. But when you were hurt, they left you to die. That's not how friends should treat each other."

(There is a glaive lying at the ground by the man's feet, with an unholy symbol of Baphomet carved into its shaft.)

Okay he's gonna pick up that glaive and break the haft right across where the symbol is.

The man flinches.

The elf girl pats his leg. "It's okay. He isn't going to hurt you unless he thinks he has to. —You don't have to," she adds to Blai as an afterthought. "He used to be hurting people, but he isn't anymore."

"Are you trying to make friends with a cultist?"

"It's very bad for people, if the only ones who are ever kind to them want them to hurt people. Even if they're only pretending to be kind."

"She's right," says Blai distantly. He sets the broken glaive back down. "Good luck, miss."

Onward.

She smiles at him.

(Camellia doesn't quite manage to conceal a disappointed pout.)

Near the spot where Blai found the knife, he can see two figures a couple blocks south. One is dressed in armor; from this distance it's just possible to make out the holy symbol of Iomedae blazoned on the pauldrons. The other is wearing a long blue-purple cloak, with some sort of pattern impossible to make out from this distance.

Seelah points towards the man in armor. "I think that's the Prelate."

Oh good, a clear direction in which to walk.

As they draw closer, the two figures come into better view. The man Seelah identified as the Prelate is recognizable as the same person who initially attempted to heal Blai from his injuries when he first awoke, though his skin has a greyish tint that it did not have when Blai first met him. His right hand is on the hilt of his longsword.

The other figure is an aasimar, with curly golden hair and silvery eyes, whose cloak is embroidered with constellation patterns. A pendant with a silver butterfly hangs around his neck, and a scroll case is affixed to his belt, but he's otherwise carrying no visible weapons. He's putting on a smile, but he isn't remotely managing to conceal the way he's glaring at the Prelate.

A few paces to the side, two other men are attempting to repair a corner of the nearest building, both in armor of similar make to the Prelate's, with similar embellishments.