The Crossroads
This is how gods act, isn't it? They give you a chance to fulfill your fondest dreams… and then snatch it away before you can make it. Xan wondered before, would Daria learn to act like that after ascending, but couldn't imagine it. That seemed to have been a premonition in itself.
The wind was cold on the road to the Friendly Arm Inn. He traversed it so many times before during their first adventure, he recognized the paved tract immediately, despite the fall recoloring it in oranges and reds. A solid stone road sign divided the world into three equal parts. To the north they always ran for safety. To the west the famous Candlekeep loomed, where she grew up, an elven child lost among the books, from where they escaped one gloomy night, breaking through the crypts, though assassins and doppelgangers, shaken to the core by the revelations they discovered. Beregost to the south and even further Nashkel, a dim cold mine where he suffered and then met her. Larswood to the east was left unmarked, with it's bandits and hobgoblins, and the camp they infiltrated to discover Sarevok's plans. He knew those lands, those paths. But which road would lead him to her?
None, anymore.
"Daria? Daria?!" he heard Imoen calling, then others joining her, trying to figure out what happened, in a split second cast out from the middle of the raging pandemonium of a world falling apart, to a quiet and familiar road. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to block out their voices.
She was just there. A second ago. In his arms. Xan tried to recreate her from memory, waged war on reality and refused to give up.
She smelled of ozone and lightning after the last spell, a tinge of sulfur she used as a component earlier, she smelled of magic and uncontrollable powers dancing in her grasp, as impossible as an obedient wildfire. She could do anything. She could yet come back.
Something moved in a pocket of his cloak. A rat's head popped up, gray whiskers sniffing the air in an obvious confusion. He felt tingling in his nose, a sneeze approaching. She left her rat with him.
"No..." he moaned.
It was all becoming real, the long expected avalanche was finally falling. Xan knew he had to stop it no matter what the cost.
A spell known as Wish was one of the most intricate pieces of currently known magics, reaching the realms of possibilities mortals could not normally grasp, with the exception of maybe the mages of ancient Netheril. The spell could alter the very foundations of reality according to the casters desires, but carried an immense risk. Each word composed into a Wish needed to be painstakingly inspected and chosen in a process that should take weeks, if not months. It was completely unacceptable for Xan to just blurt it out the second casting was complete.
"I want her by my side." So many things could have had gone wrong after he said it. It was catastrophically imprecise, he knew it even as the words left his mouth. But to think for even a second was an impossibility for him, he couldn't. He held his breath. Balancing all his weight on the edge of despair, he opened his eyes.
Exhaustion set in instantly. The toll the spell took was immense, he wouldn't be able to cast for days, if not weeks, and felt completely wiped of strength in an instant. He would not get a second chance – a spell like that took more constitution than he had, to cast more than once in a lifetime. Even if it failed because of his carelessness with words. Even if nothing happened.
He should have wished to go back in time. For a do-over. Anything, even a quick death would have been better. He couldn't breathe through pain locking his chest in a vice.
And then she came. His gentle goddess overcame death one more time to descend towards the worn out mortal she called her love, her image that of an eternity. By her side a solar appeared, to give her greetings to the new divine.
"It is done. The essence of Bhaal is once more whole and Amelyssan the Blackhearted vanished from existence. Your victory is now complete."
Daria looked at her friends, the light she was emanating dimmed to a gentle glow as not to hurt their eyes. Xan summoned her here, saving her from the plane of existence doomed to fall, once more brought her back from the brink. All she needed was to give him a moment to cast.
All her life lead her to this point… But many other lives guided her on the way, one even as far as from the future. She wasn't alone. And knew now that at least in one regard the solar was wrong. Words were important, and some things needed to be said out loud. Even if they were selfish. Even if she struggled with them for too long. Even if they were stuttered and hard to choose… But perhaps being helpless and lost wasn't all that bad in a world where she had people she could rely on.
"I don't care if we were meant to be… If I'm going against the foreordained fate or through with it. It doesn't matter. I can choose with my finite will and only as much resolution… but that's enough. I can make a choice today… and the same one tomorrow, next week, next month… and the next hundred years, if I'm lucky."
Her feet touched the road, an ordinary dusty road, fit for mortals to walk. The light around her dimmed and faded into nothing. She took Xan's hands. They were shaking.
"Amin mela lle." I love you. "Mime cilme." You are my choice.
Tears gathered in his eyes and she moved to kiss them all away. She didn't make it in time and her beloved wept in her arms – her, a mortal elf like him, all the divinity left behind like a useless burden.
"Sis, you bloody drama queen! I told you! When will you learn to listen to me!" Imoen couldn't hold back enough to let them have this moment and made it a group hug. Minsc soon added his strength to squeeze the trio. Jaheira looked at Solaufein, rolled her eyes with a smile and they joined in, Anomen followed suit, careful not to hurt anybody with his armor.
Sarevok huffed impatiently. But he got used to his sister's madness already… None of her actions truly made any sense. And yet he knew she wouldn't regret them. He approached the group and added his arm, placing it on a random shoulder. This was all he was willing to donate.
And Daria, though now weak and helpless, laughed in genuine happiness.
Ciriane woke up. This was all just a weird dream.
Bloody gods, there was no way this was all just a weird dream.
The young elf scurried from the bed, tossed her nightgown into a heap of clothes in the corner, pulled on a tunic and tripped on a dormant Moonblade, nearly cutting a toe off. She cursed loudly and hopped out, running towards her parents room on the other side of the estate.
Their bedroom was on the quiet side, open to the garden with a small waterfall, bubbling water singing sleepy morning melodies. Ciriane didn't bother with knocking, as always making ruckus, but this time failed in stirring her father and as always – her mother. They reveried together, resting in each other's arms peacefully, a mingy gray rat curled on an extra pillow.
Mother and father Ciriane was looking at were now at least a century older… but that could mean very little to an elf, at least looks-wise. This was not the case here however… Father barely had any brown on his head, his long hair almost completely white, his face marred with wrinkles that signified hardship more than age. Mother looked more like a painting than a living elf… so unlike the powerful half-goddess Ciriane dreamed about. It wasn't that she looked sickly… Father spared no expense to keep her physically well, through spells and visits to healing springs. Just… empty. She would come back every now and then – father kept almost constant watch not to miss those moments. Ciriane almost couldn't remember when they last talked… Not since her last trip to Myr…? Probably not since she started on her nightly escapades. Perhaps she'd get to hear her voice a few times more. But it was clear her parents would soon depart on their last journey to Arvandor.
Her mom and dad… who built a life for themselves in Evereska. To whom Aber Toril owed their safety. Who let Ciriane and her brothers into this world and made absolutely certain they would share none of their suffering, not from the cursed blood, it's taint completely removed, nor bound to the blade, it's call silenced, spirits within allowed into Arvandor. They wouldn't suffer separation from their people, the safety and the song, the joy and bond with nature, nourishing the spirit of an elf. They fought for this future, for a peaceful century, that was now coming to a close in comfort and silence, interrupted only by the bubbling brook in their garden. For the first time Ciriane thought that this future they created wasn't all that bad.
Not that it would ever be enough for her.
"Mom!" she shook the sleeping woman's shoulder. She was promised she'd get to say her part after all. Father stirred instead, looked around dazed and sighed seeing his daughter barged into their bedroom again. Ciriane continued undeterred. "I decided to drop off from the Academy. It was getting too boring anyway. You asked me what I want to do with my life? Well, I want to go on an adventure. I want to find something that would make you focused again. I want to see if the Sphere is still stuck in slums of Athkatla, I want to open it, I want, I want, I want – so many things! There's a boy who likes me – I don't feel the same way. I'm going to give him some space, because the poor bastard deserves a girlfriend, it's just not going to be me. I think I'll earn my way around as a bard! I mean, I have no vocal training, but from what I know humans have very low standards, so I think they won't mind. The twins will lend me some leathers and a bow, so don't worry, I'll be safe!" The elf teen leaned closer and kissed her sleeping mother's forehead. "I love you mom."
"You're not dropping out, Ciriane, at least not until you learn proper defensive abjurations. And from what I heard from your teachers it's not going to happen anytime soon." Father, so far only listening in silence, took it upon himself to ruin the moment. "The world isn't as safe as you may think."
"Daaad…!" the freshly aspiring bard moaned.
"Come here." Father got up from the bed, stretched, his joints cracking like that of a skeleton guarding a temple without much adventuring traffic. He opened one of the chests in the corner of the bedroom. The rusted hinges screeched. "This are your mother's robes, her enchanted dagger, some scrolls, healing potions… I'll switch them for new ones, those probably went bad… Boots of speed and protective gauntlets, Amulet of Vocalization… keep it under your shirt, it looks expensive and I don't want you getting mugged..."
"Dad?"
Xan put his hands on his daughter shoulders. She grew up so fast… He didn't even notice when.
"Don't forget them, when you sneak out. And promise me, you'll be careful."
She jumped him, hugging him with all her strength. Her father held her back, afraid to let go, but knowing full well he had to. None of them noticed, faint as wisp of a fog before the daybreak, a smile appearing on the sleeping sun elf's lips.
A/N: Happy Holidays! That's it from me. I wanted to finish this story for such a long time and now it is done… Phew. Thank you all very much for the reviews, I really love each and every one of them! Perhaps I will write again, if Baldur's Gate III proves worthy of the name. I doubt it, but hope.
