The Storm Has Passed
A/N: Hey, Code Name Adania! Long time no see, so to speak. You're a bit late, well… It's pretty much over. It's a pity, because I loved your reviews before. Anyway, please enjoy!
Daria of Candlekeep, the Gorion's Ward, never got to live the life of a mortal. She never got to see Evereska, with it's gray mists concealing ancient splendor, nor got to settle there, live among the elves. Her beloved returned to his homeland alone and spent the following centuries of his life in solitude, interrupted only rarely by an odd student willing to learn in the recluse's tower. The two elves never got married or had children, and didn't name their firstborn Ciriane. Said never born daughter didn't spy on her parents, out of curiosity and misplaced anger, and didn't get to see the trouble her parent had fallen into. She didn't get to perform a ritual to reach into the past and wake her mother up. And now realized the reality she knew couldn't be a result of a past she just saw.
By this point Ciriane knew she messed up, royally. Cydr was right to warn her, gods bloody damn him.
The young apprentice mage tried to keep her cool, when instead of in her comfortable bed in the estate, she woke up on a cold slab of gray stone, in an empty, nondescript room. Tried, and failed in less than ten seconds. Panicking, she glanced around, but there was nothing that could serve her as a weapon and a frilly nightgown, though pretty, was hardly an armor. But that didn't make an aspiring magician completely helpless. Or at least it wouldn't, if she bothered to prepare at least one spell before going to sleep.
"I'm so doomed" Ciriane whispered to herself, opting to cross her arms in vain attempt to stop her hands from shaking. She was trembling like a leaf, though the room was in no way cold. Or warm. It was like not only no one bothered to furnish or paint it, but also grant it the simplest descriptors such as humidity or temperature.
"Keep it together" the elf reminded herself. She saw plenty an adventure. Never took part in one, but knew exactly how they looked. Nothing good ever came from panicking. But it wasn't exactly a choice not to do it, that was a new thing she just discovered.
She stepped out of the room, through an oval hole without a door and only saw more gray… Gray flatland with a gray sky, not a blade of grass in sight, not a smallest woolly cloud. She almost couldn't feel the ground under her feet, couldn't guess what it could possibly be made of. Weather in Evereska could be pretty bad all year round, but even in the grimmest autumn dusk, it's rainiest morning, it wasn't that colorless and dull. This… This felt artificial. Like a rudimentary plane of existence no one put any amount of care into. The horrible emptiness of no-sky stared straight into the frightened elven teen. Ciriane felt her stomach plummet to the ground.
"Step forward" a disembodied voice called.
"Eep!" Ciriane answered with a yelp, turning her eyes from the sky to frantically search for the source of the voice. Only then she noticed the person who was the sole reason of her quest.
Her mother – but not yet her mother – stood some distance away, looking back at the newcomer, her face grim. She looked as if she just stepped out from Ciriane's last dream, straight from a battle, tense and serious, the remnants of the powers she wielded now more a subtle aura than a blinding halo. There was a beginning of resignation settling in the line of her shoulders, or maybe a grim determination to fight until the end, no mater how hopeless her odds were. She must have known already, she wasn't supposed to leave her last battle alive.
Not well noticeable at first, five gray figures surrounded her mother. If not for the minute movements of their heavy gray cloaks and robes, color matching this empty scape exactly, Ciriane would take them for statues. These must have been beings that caught the meddling mage in the act, noticed the creation of a paradox. The young elf briefly considered playing dumb, but it was highly unlikely such strategy would work against the probably celestial beings. Instead she did all she could to shrink in size, as she came closer to what was probably to be her jury.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, that's not how I wanted things to turn out!" she went right to pleading, trying to govern at least a pinch of pity. That usually worked on teachers at the Academy, maybe the solars or whoever gray figures were, would buy it too.
"You're the one who helped me… in Suldanessellar. You made me remember myself" the elven diviner, her mother, spoke up instead, the familiar voice Ciriane hadn't heard for two – maybe three? - years, despite living in the same estate. Only the echoes in her dreams. But now her mother was looking at her, seeing her! She talked to her. Wasn't that all she wanted?
"Yes! And I'm sorry!" But something obviously went wrong. Ciriane just couldn't guess what."I must have changed something – you weren't supposed to die! You got rid of Bhaal's essence – that's what happened! That's my past!"
"You're Xan's relative, aren't you?" Mother came closer, studying Ciriane's face, realizing a thousand little similarities.
"Mom, how am I going to get born now, without you?" Ciriane was terrified. Any other time she would feign bravado, or try to weasel her way out of trouble by lying, but this was all a touch too far out of her comfort zone. She wanted her mother to make things right, to fix everything like she used to, a broken toy glued with a bit of sap, a bitter syrup for a cough.
But mother just stared at her wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. Not every day you are confronted by a daughter you didn't yet have.
"By Ao's decree, no god will interfere with the fate of spawn of dead god Bhaal" the figures spoke up instead, more declaring at the two than talking part in any actual exchange. "But the flow of time had been split by the two of you and must be corrected. You will stay here until you do it, as we may not."
With that the gray returned to gray, where moments ago five figures stood, now the dull space was just as devoid of features as the rest of this realm. In their stead a stack of scrolls and reagents appeared before the two. Ciriane recognized them, those were the very same she used to reach into the past once already. A cold shiver ran through her spine. This couldn't mean anything good.
"What exactly did you do?" Mother put hands on Ciriane's shoulders forcing the elf's attention on her.
Ciriane took a deep breath in.
"So you know mom, how you never allowed me to climb that blueleaf tree in the back, but then I sneaked out and did and fell and broke my shin? And you took me to the temple and they fixed me up and then you told me that as long as I tell you what I did and don't lie, you would always forgive me and wouldn't be angry, but I have to be honest and not hide? That didn't happen yet, but please, you have to remember that you said it, just, not yet."
"Alright." Ciriane felt her mouth suddenly do dry, something gripping her throat, when her mother didn't prod, didn't scream like her teachers, just held her, waiting. Her palms were warm, like always, but soft, unmarred. She swallowed with difficulty.
"I reached into the past because no one wanted to tell me why you are the way you are… Why you got sick. And you were getting worse and everybody would be like 'it's an old sickness', 'focus on your studies!'. 'You're too young for such dark stories, maybe when you're older!' So I decided to look by myself. And then I saw you need help, so I thought..."'
"So you interfered with the past you were only meant to observe."
"And I don't even like learning magic! But I did! All of it! Well, maybe I skipped over some warnings..."
Mother took her in her arms and, hoping no one at the Academy would ever learn about it, Ciriane let herself cry a little.
"So my past could have been different, if not for your intervention?" Mother asked, waving her palms around with unbelievable ease to fashion a tea table and two chairs from the pliable world.
"Mom… don't we have to hurry?" Ciriane shuffled her feet.
"I don't think time flows here". Mother inspected the gray sky without much emotion. "I'd assume we have the rest of our lives to figure it out. It'd be better to take it slow." Two cups appeared out of the gray and were filled with an illusion of tea. Ciriane wished for a moment to contribute, mother would certainly be impressed if she could summon a good illusion of a cupcake or two. But she wasn't prepared and there were more pressing matters. She wanted to though… Either way she wouldn't get another chance.
She breathed out and sat down, took a sip of a warm beverage. One more tear rolled in her eye, but she wiped it furiously, before mom noticed.
"I changed your future – now past – from the moment you woke up in Suldanessellar. You would wake up anyway, though probably it would take you a few more days..."
"But that way everything is a little bit different. And those changes accumulated…" Mother took a moment to consider what those few days could mean. "The assassin in Suldanessallar came when I was awake, I got to Saradush earlier… Do you have an aunt? A human aunt named Imoen?"
"I'm nearly seventy, mom." She only rounded up a bit. "And the war was over a century ago. Humans don't live that long."
"Oh."
"But you told me stories from your childhood and I met her in my dreams…" Ciriane quickly tried to add something helpful. "I don't think I ever saw her in person though, not even as a kid. Do you think she maybe didn't make it through the war…?"
"We don't really have a way of knowing how much changed, do we?"
"In my past you survived and won, that much I know. But… your hands were getting worse with time. You could divine, but nothing like I saw in the past, and sometimes you got lost for so long… Each year a little longer. Dad stepped down from his position at the Academy to watch over you and great-aunt Miriaine started to take care of us… I hate her by the way, but that's besides the point."
"Us?"
"Me and the twins. But they don't really listen to her, like, they just sneak out to the woods to hunt and don't care about anything she says."
"We got twins?" Ciriane didn't remember her mother ever getting gobsmacked to that point. Not even when she missed her three children starting a frog farm in the basement and running it through two entire weeks.
"Oh. I don't know, should I be telling you the future, mom? I think I'm done breaking things for now."
"I don't think it changes anything at this point. The gods want us to 'fix' the split versions of the past. Because right now I'm moments from complete non-existance and you – someone who won't come to exist at all – are the cause."
"I'm sorry, mom, but…!" After a good cry and a warm cup of tea Ciriane decided to start protesting. Maybe she wasn't completely innocent. But she wasn't totally guilty either! "How was I supposed to know this would happen? No one was going to talk to me! And what else could I have done? Just wait around and do nothing, let you waste away, not even knowing why?!"
"…sweetie." Daria just got to know this strange girl who had her beloved's eyes, protested like she used to towards Jaheira, and told her of a hundred years she would spend in a safe haven with Xan. She didn't even know her name and couldn't ask without reminding this girl, that she was still not much more than a stranger to her own mother. Maybe just a small peek? A glance towards this future to sweeten the journey towards it? She looked. And smiled. "Ciriane. What more could I ever wish for in life? This is honestly more than I'd dare to ask for."
"But mom, this isn't fair!"
"My dear, how would you like for your life to look like?"
"I… But, I..." Ciriane bit her lip defiantly. "Well, I broke it all, so there! I won't be born! Gods will just wipe me from the face of Faerun!"
"That wouldn't solve the issue. Besides, if they did that, my fate wouldn't be changed in Suldanesselar and I would survive the fight with Amelyssan like I did in your past – and that's a fairly big interference into my fate."
"So what?!" Ciriane crossed her arms. "We have all the components to reach into the past once more. What do they want us to do with them?"
"To reach back and merge the past into one with as little interference as possible."
"So for example… if I show you how I reached you and you did it instead of me, you wake yourself up… As a last thing before you die..."
"Then there will be no paradox. Just a small interference… a small glimpse of the would be world intruding on the one fate that prevailed – I did it before and apparently it's allowed. All the magic, all the will to change would be mine. Then I will die here and you will never be born, and the world will move on like nothing happened. We're not going to do it, obviously."
"But what about the gods?" Ciriane felt like crying some more.
"What about them?" Mother wasn't as bothered. "They claim they can't interfere, don't they? There's someone I cannot abandon. And I'd like you to be born."
"So what do we do? Try to start the time back and fight?"
"We have less than few seconds to act and no idea what to do to stabilize the Throne. That's too risky and not only for us two. No, I was thinking something else..."
Mother left her tea, stood up, corrected her cloak and turned towards the sky.
"Corellon Larethian, Preserver of Life, please grant me a boon" she raised her voice. "Aid me in escaping thins falling realm."
Ciriane looked up, suddenly hopeful. But only silence answered mother's prayer.
"Labelas Enoreth, the Lifegiver, please grant me a boon..." mother pleaded again. "Lady Mystra, the Lost Goddess, please..." Each time only silence answered, not even echo resonated in this empty place, but if mother felt any disappointment, none of it showed on her face. Ciriane wondered how – or if – her mother knew, whose emissaries the gray figures who spoke to them were. They bore no symbols as far as she could see and seemed identical.
"Oh, I guess I have no choice then." Mother shrugged her shoulders as if this was the exact reaction she was expecting. "Ciric, the Mad God… how about a trade?"
"I'm listening." One of the figures reappeared, but now instead of nondescript features a wide open smile of a madman bloomed under it's hood.
"Ah. I thought I saw you there." Daria commented noncommittally, as if she just noticed a distant relative in a crowd.
"How could I miss the one last 'huzzah!' of my dear enemy's last progeny? Not to mention this little craphole does grant one claim to a part of my domain. A part I am rather fond of." There was little Ciriane could read from the blank gray statue, but a cold shiver run down her spine as she realized what he meant. He was the current God of Murder.
"You could do well with Bhaal's essence" Daria stated.
"You could do well not being dead" the blank avatar retorted.
"Indeed. I see there is no reason to prolong this conversation then. I will relinquish all my claims on the Throne and pass them to you – I'm sure an imploding plane of existence is nothing you can't handle. In turn you will send me back to Aber Toril, to my friends."
"Mom, no!" Ciriane couldn't believe her own ears. "He's evil! He can't get a hold over this power! Not to mention he will break any promise he gives!"
"I see no other choice. No other deity is willing to bend the rules to aid us in need… I suppose the chance to tip the scales towards the light isn't worth the possible punishment. And there is a chance this here mad gentleman will not go back on his word – he is famous for being unpredictable after all. And that's the only chance we have to force the future on it's previous tracks. So..."
"We do not like to be manipulated..." Ciriane jumped as another figure suddenly came back.
"And Ciric… I thought we made it clear that no meddling will be tolerated. We are to observe only." And another. In a second the diviner was once more surrounded by the set of five, no obvious difference in their outward visage, but a threat now heavy in their voices.
"I don't like being doomed to non-existence. And it wasn't the Mad God who initiated this deal. Allow me to seal it, unless you have something important to add." Daria didn't let the sentence hang. She committed, stepping forward, her palm reaching to Ciric's bleak avatar. She would do it – this was the future she chose out of all available and she could possibly live with having done so. Thus the gods could either accept it… or interfere.
"Callous child!" Corellon Larethian, the father of all elves… all but her, shed his cloak and stood in her path, the perfection in a male elven form, warrior and mage, beautiful and terrifying. Daria felt her eyes lowering, shrinking back for having to force a reaction like that, from a being eons older and wiser than her. "You will not treat the scales of balance as your plaything! There is more on the line than just your pitiful life."
"Forgive me, my lord" Daria was shivering, the force of the words almost sending her on her knees, despite the Bhaal's essence still coursing in her veins, adding to her strength. "But in here, right now… I am more of a callous mother." Daria forced her eyes up, but was only able to look at the golden crescent moon shining on the gods' chest plate, her bravery having it's limits.
The fifth figure, so far quiet approached the angered god and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I suppose a little leniency may be in order…" her voice was a gentle melody of love and kindness, of midnight and mystery, of freedom and ease. But the goddess didn't shed her cloak."After all this time… It's not like matters of cosmic balance can be shouldered by mortals alone."
"Will you help me then?" Daria turned to her.
"No, the rules stand as they are. All I can offer is guidance, knowledge to use as you will." The goddess came closer and Corellan let her pass, still keeping an eye out on Ciric. She leaned to Daria to whisper to her. "The destruction wrought by Amelyssan started at the Throne and you will not be able to contain it… That much you know. But the part of the Throne that belonged to you was reinforced when the Ravager was pushed back. It will survive the longest… if only for minutes more."
"Minutes? How does that help?!" Ciriane didn't try to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping.
"I don't know" her mother seemed lost in thought for a moment. "But I guess… I think I can have faith, one more time. Will you let my daughter go now? I know what to do should I fail, there's no reason to risk her future any longer."
"Very well, Godchild" Corellon answered, his voice still filled with only barely concealed anger. "This is one and only chance you will be granted. Do not expect any further favors."
"Mom, no! I want to help! And besides, I have no future to return to, remember?" The young elf reached to her mother to grab her, refusing to be abandoned.
"Sweetheart…" Daria took her hands. "We will meet again, one day, won't we? I'm so happy to have met you..."
"No, mom, there's so much I have to tell you, I don't want…" It was slipping from her, the grasp she had on the surroundings, the understanding of the logic of this place.
"You will tell me when you wake up, right?"she heard her mother one last time. "I'll make sure you have the chance, I promise."
"No, it won't work like that..." Ciriane didn't get the chance to finish, the gray world began to sweat and pale, white mist… vapor rising from the ground, the walls, the sky… the halted explosion once more picked up the pace, with her mother right in the middle. But it all seemed far, so far away, a dream to a waking mind.
'I just hope Evereska will still be there when I wake up' was Ciriane's last desperate thought.
