"Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings"
Twenty Years Before Present Day.
It was a dark and stormy night. The corny, overused and rather trite expression flashed through the cloaked and hooded man's mind as he wrapped the wet, brown robes he wore closer to his body. A pair of sharp green eyes sat upon the shadowed face beneath the hood, and there was no mistaking the look therein- he was not a man to be trifled with, nor a fool to be taken lightly. He stood by a large mound of stone and rock that formed an overhang, a small piece of solace from the elements that blew and swept the forested area with the fury of nature... perhaps in protest of the evils that were being performed upon her soil.
The wind picked up again and sent branches, leaves, and other debris hurtling through the air; the flaps of his brown robe whipped this way and that way as the storm grew ever higher. He suppressed a shudder as he drew further within himself beneath the small measure of safety he had found. It would not be long now... the darkness was growing. His allies would have to hurry, or-
The sound of a branch snapping in the wood surrounding him caught his hearing, and he immediately turned towards the source, his hands rising to draw the arcane symbols of protection he relied on in battle... no. He allowed himself a slight-very slight- measure of relief as he saw the familiar silhouettes of two friends... two very powerful friends. It was a good thing for that, Gorion decided, for they would need as much power as they could muster if any of them were to survive the night.
"Gorion... it is good to see you safe, here in this place of death." the elven warrior bowed slightly in respect to the middle-aged wizard, Gorion nodding back. "We scouted the area, just as you requested... there is no doubt. The Temple is here and the signs all point to the ritual being held tonight."
"Then it is good the Harpers are here." Gorion answered briskly, regarding the shadowed edifice in the very center of the forest, naught but ruins on the outside, but so much more within... "We cannot afford to dally any longer. Whatever evil that the High Priestess of Bhaal performs tonight, it must not be allowed to come to fruition. I will not see the Realms torn apart once more- one Time of Troubles was enough."
"I would agree... as would Erleth, and the rest of the Harpers ye have brought with us to this accursed place." the other man spoke finally, looking out from under his wide-brimmed pointed hat and his bushy gray eyebrows. "There has not been a gathering of our forces like this for many years, Gorion."
"Nor has there been such a need, Elminster." the wizard replied, eliciting a small chuckle from the powerful sage, the old man leaning heavily on the staff he carried with him.
"Very well then. Let the cry be sent and those who Harp arise; let foul deeds be undone this night!" Elminster declared, a presence within him seeming to grow as the old man demonstrated why he was such a force to be feared; he shouted one word of magical power and bright light blazed around him, lighting the entire area, blinding anyone who dared look at him-
The signal had been given and the sound of other wizards summoning their own magics and warriors drawing steel in the night rung as nearly fifty Harpers came crashing in upon the Temple of Bhaal, their purpose clear... the total eradication of the evil that dwelt within.
The sound of wet and old wood splintering signaled the entrance of the first of the intruders- even if they had not heard the intrusion, it was impossible to miss the dazzling light that shone through every possible crack and slit to the inside of the Temple... they were here. Who they were mattered little, only that they were trying to disrupt the plans of the Master- plans that could not be undone. Of course, that would be if she had even intended to resurrect Bhaal in the first place... and Amelyssan the Blackhearted, High Priestess of Bhaal, was most certainly not intending to.
Still, she clutched the staff spear she held and shouted a command in the tongue of the necromantic sphere, summoning beasts from beyond the grave as she stood at the altar; terrible creatures of higher fury than any mere skeleton or zombie, but liches and the spirits of past terrors, unnamed and faceless monsters that should have been left to rot the first time they were raised to fight for her. A warrior with blonde hair and pointed ears- a handsome looking elf, she reflected as she saw him slip into the main chamber, raising a sword in defense- and was immediately impaled by a mammoth claw, the massive undead behemoth she had resurrected leaning over with sickly drool dripping upon the elf, already in shock as it slid off the claw, blood pooling from the massive intrusion in his chest.
The blood ran across the cobblestone floor, seeping through the cracks, following the trace of the builders who had originally constructed this edifice in the worship of the newly deceased Lord of Murder- the blood flow was interrupted by five chubby digits, the hand of a small boy, his face covered in fear- he was sitting by the edge of the circular emblem of Bhaal, investigating the red lifeblood that was coming so close to him and the dozens of other children. The children... the sacrifices. The ones who would die that night to give Bhaal power for his resurrection- or at least the resurrection of his power.
Another pair burst in through the entrance to her left, and Amelyssan hissed, hurling her spear with blinding speed, impaling another intruder, this one a human, even as his companion, a dwarven cleric yelped as he dodged aside, his war hammer clutched tightly as he saw the chaos surrounding, the threats, the- the children...
Whether out of mere shock or righteous anger at the obviousness of what was to happen, the children seated beside the sacrificial altar or the knife waiting on the bloodstained slab of rock, the mothers lined up in ceremonial garb and chanting praises to Bhaal as their dark worship protected them, the dwarf raised up a cry and swung his war hammer, crushing the claw of another of her undead beasts who had moved to kill this new threat. It shrieked in pain as the massive weapon connected, and it was ill prepared to counter the second blow that came, sending it to its knees.
Amelyssan arched one eyebrow; these were no ordinary do-gooders. They were strong, well trained. Capable of causing her great strife, should she allow them to... she spoke the words inscribed upon the spear she had thrown and it suddenly appeared in her hand once more, the barbed tip of the spear glistening with magic and lightning. She thrust it at the dwarf, just beginning to turn his attention towards the woman who stood at the head of the altar-
Dark magic screamed as the spear tip erupted in fire and lightning, engulfing the dwarven cleric before he could even contemplate dodging or calling on the power of his god to save himself. Amelyssan sneered as she saw his corpse fall to the ground; perhaps this battle would be less of a challenge than she had thought to begin with- explosions rocked the entire structure as the second wave of attackers commenced, wizards and warriors and clerics and rogues, all flooding through newly create gaps and holes where solid stone and rock had formerly been. An arrow nearly struck her, barely missing as it made a strand of her hair follow in the wake of the missile.
She screamed in fury, raising a shield of magic to deflect another volley of arrows, countering with her own behemoths and undead forces that rushed into battle with the interlopers- the sound of a child screaming caught her attention. One of the god-children was perilously close to a tottering giant, the undead monster ready to fall and smash the young girl underneath- one of the intruders flew in at the last second, pushing the child out of the way, but too late to save herself. The woman who had saved the child's life was crushed underneath as the fight continued on, the full might of these Harper warriors unleashed at last.
Gorion shouted a set of incantations, fire sweeping the bones of the undead before him, destroying the minions who would seek to protect their masters- He nearly froze as he heard the sound of dark clerical magics being intoned, not from the High Priestess who watched from the altar, but the others, the ones who had been preparing for the ritual. Their magics were strong, here in this place... he wouldn't be able to weave a counterspell in time-
A blaze of ungodly power was deflected as Elminster stepped in front of him, his staff raised high as he batted the attack away without trouble. Still, his face was not at ease, or even endowed with any confidence. The wizard sensed something... power, the likes of which he had not felt in many years. Elminster looked back at Gorion with a stern look, gesturing towards the children, still very much in peril from both sides. "Something is amiss! We must not remain here for long- slay the priestesses and retreat! I shall deal with these beasts of undeath and shadow!"
"What about the children?!" Gorion shouted back, trying to be heard over the sound of magic and death.
"I will brook no arguments here, Gorion Greenstone!" Elminster roared, swinging the staff he carried to jab directly into the stomach of one of the priestesses who had rushed him, fingers stretching for his throat. "The children are Bhaalspawn... they are as much a part of this evil as the priestesses themselves! The power of darkness is stronger than I had imagined-"
"You don't know how right you are, old man!" the snarl came from Amelyssan above, finally leaping from her perch and landing before Elminster, throwing her spear to the side. "You do not face mere mortals in this place... you face Bhaal reborn!"
She threw her head back, and before their very eyes she began shifting, changing... becoming something greater. Red magic exploded in a sphere around Amelyssan, sending both Gorion and Elminster tumbling away, along with everyone else in the room, child, Harper, priestess or undead. Elminster pushed himself back up to see- a flash of claws and scales darted out to snare one of the Harpers there, his screams silenced abruptly. The elderly wizard felt something he had not felt in many battles... he felt fear.
He turned back to Gorion and grabbed him by the front of his robes, yanking him to his feet. "Get the others out! Rescue the children if you must, but get out of here now! Only I can face this threat... and I do not know if I have the strength to defeat it!"
"What-" Gorion had no time for questions as Elminster turned and hurtled towards the blur of evil and darkness in the center of the room, blood pooling around it as the number of corpses grew, both Harper and priestess.
He tore himself away from the sight and looked towards the children- they were scattering, young, but still bright enough to know when their lives were in danger. Few were even left in the room itself, most having been either spirited away by the fleeing priestesses or escaping themselves through the exits their wizards had created. Gorion dodged a Skeleton Warrior, whose blade nearly cut him in two, coming up with an emerald ball of magic to disintegrate his foe. He moved past, hoping to spy one- just one child that he could save from this madness- all around him there was death and destruction, and no child within reach, no life for him to save.
He roared a command to the others as he took a final glance at Elminster, white light surrounding him as he grappled and fought the avatar of Bhaal- fire began to sweep through the room, emitting from what had once been Amelyssan, high priestess of Bhaal. Gorion looked around desperately for one more child, anyone he could rescue from this hell-
He felt a strong hand grip the back of his robes and yank him physically out of the crumbling Temple, through one of the openings they had made, just before the explosion within would have consumed him. He tumbled through the grass and root-covered ground, rolling and grunting as the Temple before them collapsed, fires shooting up from within as the two combatants inside met their end- whatever end that may have been.
Gorion lay flat on his stomach, his savior lying beside him, on his back and unconscious from the concussive force of the Temple's destruction. It was unlikely anyone could have survived the conflagration... though Elminster had cheated death many times before. But it was not Elminster on Gorion's mind- it was the faces of the innocents, Bhaalspawn though they may have been- the innocents he had failed to protect. To save. Not even one.
He slumped back to the ground, joining his elven friend in unconsciousness.
X X X X X X
Eighteen Years Before Present Day.
The sound of the tavern's hustle and clamor was ambient white noise, a mere backdrop for those who inhabited the bar. It was not the wildest of places, nor the rowdiest of locations. One of the upper class bars, if the term could even be used in such a context. So it was no surprise to find patrons of a little higher repute than those who would normally be found in such places, women and men whose dress was a bit finer, their stance and their gait showing them to be of a higher caliber.
Still, the dregs and the drunkards managed to find their way in once and again, making it no real unfamiliar sight to see those down on their luck, those without hope or solace drowning their sorrows in the taste of alcohol. A woman sat alone at a table, her eyes blurred and red, a cup before her that was half-full; it was not the first time she had drained it that day, nor would it likely be the last. She sniffed, rubbing her eyes with one hand, wiping it on her clothes, which had once been fine, or at the very least passable in a higher class of crowd. They were stained now, dirty, looking as though they had not been washed or cleaned for some time.
The woman's hand shook as she reached out to pick up her tankard of ale again, the liquid inside sloshing as she began bringing it up to her lips-
A slender yet firm hand came down and pushed the cup back to the table, keeping it down as the woman frowned in dismay at seeing her drink denied, looking up to see the face of the intruder-
"You should know better than this, Mariah... a stout drink is no substitute for the touch of a friend." the accented voice brought a weary smile to the woman's face, her vision hazy but still clear enough to make out the face of one half-elven woman, her thin eyebrows arched in what might be construed as a bit of reprimanding, though the concern for her friend was still there. "Here... put away your ale and let our voices clear your head for a while."
"Jaheira... you're too good to me, y'know that?" she said quietly, Mariah's voice betraying a hint of guilt and fear, as though thinking that the druid would think less of her because of the way she appeared at the moment. "You've only known me for these past few months and you're still coming back here, checking up on me-"
"Think nothing of it." Jaheira waved her hand off, seating herself across from Mariah, the druid brushing a lock of her wild mane of chestnut colored hair from before her face and tucking it behind one pointed ear. "Now, what has become so urgent that you would drive yourself to the grave like this? The last time we spoke, you sounded as though you were making do just fine... it is not money, is it? If gold is a problem, surely you know-"
"No! No, and I wouldn't accept any money anyway." she coughed, looking around defiantly for anyone who might be watching or listening in to their conversation. Jaheira noticed, she took Mariah's hand and clutched it, trying to catch the distraught woman's eye.
"Mariah, it is just the two of us. My partner Khalid... even he is not here." Jaheira said, which although she did not say as much, was quite the feat. They were nigh inseparable since the last few months, but Mariah was her friend, not Khalid's... he could wait a day or so to see her again. "Please, just tell me what is troubling you."
The druid heard Mariah's sharp intake of breath, grimly hoping she would be willing to open up- they had only known one another for a few months, starting from an incident where one of Jaheira's first missions for the Harpers had turned sour. Two near fireballs, a brush with lightning and a sword wound to the side had left her in the streets half-dead. Mariah had found her before her enemies had and nursed her back to health for almost three days before Khalid and the rest of her team had found them. She owed this woman her life- she'd be damned if she couldn't find some way of helping her.
"You know... you know what kind of situation I'm in, Jaheira." she swallowed, her red eyes flitting back and forth, coming to rest far too often on the drink before her. "Keeping myself going, buying food and clothes and medicine for myself... I could make do. But with my girl... I just can't do it anymore. Not knowing what I know now-"
"Perhaps... perhaps Brenthan could-" Jaheira began, but Mariah merely raised a hand, her face scrunching in what looked like pain or bitterness, perhaps a combination of both. "He wouldn't touch me again, not even to spit on me, Jaheira. After... after I had the baby, and he discovered it wasn't his... I didn't want-"
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Mariah." Jaheira stopped the fury of self-blame and anger that was surely coming on; she merely leaned over and caught the distraught woman's gaze once more, smiling gently. "Is the girl okay? Is she sick?"
"No..." Mariah's voice cracked- she could no longer hold back the tears as she spoke, "S-she's not okay... I know what happened, Jaheira! I know who she is, and... and... the priest knows, too! I thought I could handle it, but the priest sensed it when I took her to the Temple the other day, and I... I can't do it anymore! Brenthan left me, Jaheira! He left me because I told him who her father is... I can't do it anymore, Jaheira! P-please..."
Jaheira frowned- she was growing ashen, pale and cold in her sobs and hysterics- Mariah suddenly tumbled from the chair, eyes growing wide as she clutched her chest, the drink spilling to the floor beside her. Jaheira cried out and dropped to her knees beside her, even as Mariah gasped for air, her whole body trembling- "J-Jaheira... take care of her... please find... take c-care of... Imoen..."
Jaheira wasted no time, hurriedly weaving the incantations to her spells of healing, trying to halt the damage that Mariah's weak and broken heart was bringing her- her body was lifeless before the magics washed over her. Jaheira looked on her friend's face with sorrow and resignation, knowing there was nothing left to be done for her- she turned to the crowd, all staring at them as though they were some kind of sideshow attraction to be gawked at- she delivered the fiercest glare she could muster, sending most if not all of their attention back towards their drinks. Just another reminder of how much she hated the city and its inhabitants... Jaheira bent down and picked up the body of Mariah, mother of one, and took her from the bar. Her heart broke, knowing that it would not be her nor Mariah who suffered most from this... it would be a small, Nine year old, red-haired girl. Imoen. Orphan.
X X X X X X
A knock at the door came, this one being the third of such in a sequence. The beat was impatient, the one behind it obviously aware of the wizard's presence behind the wooden portal... no point in ignoring it and hoping that those waiting to see him would take the hint and leave. No, if it was who he thought it was, she would be here all night knocking and awaiting his reply, though with her feisty temperament, she might end up breaking the door down first. That would be a shame... it was a rather nice door. Oak, if he remembered correctly.
"Come in, come in!" he sighed, his back to the opening door as light flooded his candle-lit study, the man seated there rubbing his long grey beard with thought as he considered the next few words to scribe on his journal. He hated to waste ink and parchment, after all... He heard only one pair of footsteps enter his study, though he could have sworn there would be two pairs. He arched one eyebrow and leaned back, considering which of the two he was most likely speaking to. "Well then... where is your counterpart? It seems you two are hardly separable these days."
"Y-you know Jaheira..." Khalid's endearing and calming stutter brought a smile to Gorion's face as he turned and stood, facing the young warrior half-elf. "O-once she s-sets her mind to something, nobody c-can tell her otherwise."
"Indeed." Gorion said with a nod, pushing himself to his feet and striding over to his ally and friend. "I do recall speaking with her through correspondence on a few occasions about this matter... rather, denying her requests fully and thoroughly. I do not recall ever giving the impression that I was willing to change my position on this matter."
"She is... t-tenacious." Khalid offered up, Gorion chuckling to himself, shaking his head in acknowledgment.
"Indeed. Well then, where is she?" Gorion peered out the open door behind Khalid, frowning as he saw naught but an empty hall amidst the passages of Candlekeep. "If we are to banter and argue until I am forced to tell her no once again in person, I would do it quickly."
"S-she's in the archive rooms over in the west wing." Khalid said with a hint of a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. "W-with the girl."
Gorion whirled to the half-elf, who was just beginning to get a sheepish look on his face, the wizard scowling as he strode to him and raised a pointed finger to his face. "Now look here. I dare say you brought her here on purpose, in the hopes that seeing her would force me to acquiesce, is it? Do you think I'll be naught more than a heartless monster in refusing to take this child in-"
"Uncle Khalid!!"
The high pitched cry came from a patter of small feet as a freckle faced, red haired little girl came darting into the room, throwing herself at Khalid's waist, the half-elf turning to catch her and embrace her tightly. "I-Imoen... did you enjoy looking through the b-books with Jaheira?"
"Uh-huh." she bobbed her head up and down, pointing at the druid as she came in the room right behind her, hands on her hips with pursed lips. Still, she snuck a glance at Gorion, whose attention, despite himself was on the nine-year old by the kneeling warrior and try as he might, the infectious smile that this girl brought with her had even rubbed off on him. "She let me read all sorts of stuff... but I didn't get most of it..."
"That's all r-right..." Khalid stood up and let Imoen's hand drop from his, turning to look at Gorion who had finally managed to reaffix his scowl, though it softened when Imoen turned to stare him in the face. "I t-think Jaheira needs to speak with this man for a while. W-why don't we take one more look at those-"
Imoen didn't wait to hear him finish- she zipped out of the room with no time to spare, Khalid going after her, desperately hoping to avoid losing her in the labyrinth-like halls of Candlekeep. As soon as they were gone, Jaheira shook her head and walked over to Gorion, the middle-aged man having taken a seat in his chair once more, glaring up at Jaheira. "How long did it take for you to plan all that out? The timing of her entrance, getting her into the Keep without me knowing..."
"A week or so to get everything just right, if you must know." she said with a hint of smug satisfaction. "Surely you won't begrudge me a bit of theatricality?"
"Not at all." Gorion said calmly. "It will make it that much harder for me to say no, though. But that was your plan all along, true? She seems quite fond of you and 'Uncle' Khalid. Would that make you 'Aunt' Jaheira?"
"Yes, well…" Jaheira coughed, a hint of red showing at her cheeks. "She seems rather bent on the idea that we will be getting... er... married. Pure child's fantasy, but-"
"But what matters here is the future of this child, this Imoen, and why you seem so determined to make me her guardian." Gorion cut her off, driving straight to the point. "I've seen her for the first time today. I didn't even know her mother as you did. Why should she be my responsibility? Why not you?"
"It should be quite obvious that the life I lead right now is no place for a child." Jaheira's eyes flashed, ready to meet the challenge in the wizard's voice. "And you just resigned as an active member of the Harpers... there will be little chance of putting her into harm's way inside Candlekeep."
"That is no sufficient reason for me to raise the girl." Gorion raised one arm, pointing at the door where she had left. "I've never been married, much less raised a child-"
"But you wanted to, didn't you?" Jaheira persisted. "You yourself told me of the incident a few years back... when you were this close to escaping the Temple of Bhaal with a child? To rescuing a Bhaalspawn? You seemed willing enough to bring up one of those monsters, and yet a child in such desperate need you would abandon?"
"I do not appreciate the implication behind your words, Jaheira." Gorion growled, the tone to his voice hard enough to make even the druid back down a bit. "That was... that was different. Those 'monsters' as you call them, will shape the Realms. It is prophesied... only a matter of time until the words of Alaundo come to fruition. I thought... I thought that I might be able to ensure that at least one of them- maybe just one might bring to bear a force of good."
He trailed off, looking down at the floor, neither of them speaking for a time. Finally, he looked up and spoke quietly, "How has she been handling it? The death of her mother..."
"Surprisingly well." Jaheira sighed, glancing towards the door, making sure they were not surprised by the girl. "She is in pain... but she tries not to show it. She hides it well- hides it beneath a mask of joy and carefree mirth. She has only opened up to me once, let her grief show. It broke my heart, Gorion. It broke my heart..."
Gorion exhaled loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "What of the girl's father? You said that he left her mother-"
"After Imoen was born. I never pried into the matter, but Mariah said enough for me to know that Brenthan, her husband, was not the father. It was partly why he left her... but- hm. Perhaps..."
"What is it?"
Jaheira looked up with a frown. "Before her heart gave out... she said things. Spoke of a priest sensing something... that she had told Brenthan who the father had been, and it was why he left. I didn't pay much attention, she was dying... but-"
"But her true father might know more of the girl. Of why your friend fell into darkness so quickly? Perhaps... why she died?" Gorion continued, his own eyes dropping as he considered what Jaheira had told him... Gorion looked up at Jaheira again, choosing his words carefully. "This girl... when was she born? Rather, when did Mariah have her?"
"When?" Jaheira frowned. "Nine years ago. Why?"
Gorion nodded, making his own connections -Nine Years ago... the Time of Troubles? - He swallowed, then smiled weakly at Jaheira. "No reason. No reason at all... perhaps I should speak with the girl."
The druid let her own expression turn to one of bemused expectancy. "Having a change of heart, are we?"
"Perhaps." Gorion shrugged. "I... ah. Here she is now."
The two of them saw Khalid and Imoen return to the room, the girl looking up at Jaheira with a grin, Khalid looking more than a little relieved to be back amidst the adults. Gorion knelt down by the young girl, looking up at the two half-elves. "I would like to talk with Imoen for a time... would you two excuse us for a moment?"
Imoen looked up to Jaheira, who gave her a comforting smile. She turned and nodded, climbing into the big chair at Gorion's desk while Khalid and Jaheira filed out, leaving the two of them alone together. "So... Imoen, is it?"
"Yep." the girl nodded, swinging her legs back and forth, hanging above the floor. "Who're you?"
"My name is Gorion." he said gently, extending a hand, which was promptly grabbed and shook vigorously by the freckle-faced girl. "So... 'Aunt' Jaheira has been taking care of you the last few weeks, then?"
"Uh-huh." Imoen nodded, shaking her head up and down vigorously. "She and Uncle Khalid. They're going to get married, you know."
"I wouldn't doubt it." Gorion chuckled, Imoen smiling broadly as she saw him laugh. "You know... you know that they cannot take care of you indefinitely, and that they would like me to take care of you."
"Why don't they take care of me?" Imoen asked with a frown.
"They have certain... responsibilities. The work they do... well, it is what I used to do myself. Their work takes them to places... well, it is no job or place for one so young as you."
"I'm nine years old!" Imoen said defiantly, folding her arms as she looked at the wizard. "I'm going to be a Master Thief when I grow up!"
"Indeed?" Gorion asked with a wry smile, giving her a once over. "And why do you think that?"
"I can hide and sneak real good, and I can take stuff from people too." she grinned, holding out one hand, displaying a small bag of coppers.
"And whose money is that?" the wizard folded his arms as Imoen tossed it from one hand to the other. "It's Uncle Khalid's. But I'll give it back to him."
"A noble thief then... you'll have to be very careful, won't you?" Gorion mentioned. "You wouldn't want to get caught now."
"I'm real fast!" Imoen said with confidence, jumping off the chair and doing a sudden somersault, coming up to stand on her head against the bookshelf- it only lasted a few seconds before she tumbled back down, hair flopping over her head to cover her face. "See?"
Gorion could not help but laugh, clapping softly. "Very impressive... you're quite the charmer, young lady."
"I like making people laugh." Imoen said as she picked herself up, dusting herself off with a small smile. "It makes me happy."
"And well it should. It is a rare gift, to bring joy to those around you." Gorion said as Imoen climbed back into the chair.
"That's what Mom used to say. She said I had a gift... she said I could make her laugh when she was sad." Imoen nodded, her smile slowly faltering as her thoughts slipped back towards her mother. "She'd be sad, and I'd make her laugh... but it didn't always work. Sometimes... sometimes she'd... sometimes she'd just cry, an... an..."
"And what?" Gorion asked, frowning in concern as Imoen's voice dropped to a whisper. "You can tell me, Imoen..."
"She'd look at me and cry." Imoen whispered, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. "Just... she'd just cry, an... and- I didn't know why. Was... is it my fault?"
"No, Imoen... I'm sure it wasn't because of you." Gorion comforted, taking her by the hand as Imoen trembled slightly, the girl abruptly looking up at Gorion, her haunting eyes taking him aback. "She's dead now... it's my fault, isn't it? I couldn't make her happy and she died because of me..."
Gorion embraced Imoen tightly, holding her close as he felt the shivers of her body. He pulled her out to where he could look at her face, then rubbed a tear trail from her eyes. "No, Imoen. Never believe that, child. Your mother's death was not your fault- there was nothing you could have done. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Anyone."
She nodded once, giving him a weak smile... and with that one smile, that single look of gratitude- his mind was set. He'd missed his first chance; he wouldn't squander this one. He knew what she was- even if Jaheira didn't, or never knew. This little girl deserved better, and if he could change the destiny of even one of the Bhaalspawn... perhaps there was hope for the Realms after all. He stood up, taking her by the hand as he led her over to the doorway. "Come, child. Perhaps I should show you more of this place, if it is to be your new home..."