Wars of the Bhaalspawn

by Capt. Incredible

Complete! The Throne of Bhaal can no longer be left unoccupied- a war for the Throne has begun. With his closest companions at his side, one Bhaalspawn sorcerer moves ever closer to claiming the power of Bhaal for his own, regardless of desire or intent.

44. Part 2: Epilogue

The din of the Copper Coronet encompassed and engulfed them all, a rich, chaotic tone comprised of raucous shouts, mugs clinking and ale sloshing over tables and chairs. Once upon a time, there had been no clientele that the Coronet would've turned away. These days, under the rule of the former gladiator Hendak, there were standards, if low ones. For all the time that had passed since their last visit here, and all the world-shattering events that the Wars of the Bhaalspawn had caused, there were little changes here. People came to the Coronet for drinks, for fun, to forget their problems for a short while in the company of good friends- or possibly complete strangers. It didn't matter… and for the group of ten who sat at the back of the bar, full pitchers of ale sloshing back and forth as they raised their mugs in a long-awaited victory drought, it was nothing more than a simple celebration of… life. Of being alive, of surviving everything that had been thrown at them for so long.

It seemed like a dream, for the most part. A raucous laugh erupted from Minsc as he threw his head back, an easy grin across his features as he lowered his half-emptied mug, one arm around the petite elf seated beside him. Aerie blushed at Minsc's words, elbowing him gently but quickly following it with resting her head against the shoulder of the large ranger, her wings tucked behind her and folded up beautifully as she sat in the back corner of the bar, away from prying eyes. Haer'Dalis was leaning back with the front legs of his chair in the air, the back of the chair leaning against the wall of the tavern itself, his legs propped up on the table as he endured the glares of Viconia and Jaheira both, draining his flagon without pause. Solaufein simply watched quietly, his hood down in a surprising show of relaxation for the usually guarded warrior. His features reddened just slightly as Imoen leaned in and whispered something to him, eliciting a laugh from the squire Anomen, sitting opposed him at the table.

And Greywulf… Greywulf simply watched. He glanced from one face to another, a simple feeling of contentment filling his entire being as he looked at everyone who had suffered for so long, who had given up so much to bring him to this point. A point of freedom, freedom from Bhaal, from all the responsibilities and darkness that the taint had forced on him since birth. It was a debt he would never be able to repay… and as his gaze drifted over those who had followed him to hell and back, he finally came to his brother, the Deathbringer. Sarevok sat exactly opposite Greywulf, his golden eyes glinting in the low light as he met Greywulf's stare- Greywulf could feel the smile on his face falter despite himself- would there ever be a true peace between the two of them, these old enemies turned allies?

In many ways, it was a remarkable dichotomy between the two- there should have been no peace between them. It should have been impossible to imagine the two sharing a table, sharing a drink in a moment like this. It was all the more unlikely when considering that at the point of no return, the apex of the prophecy of the Children, it would be between the three of them- Imoen, Greywulf, Sarevok- to decide the final outcome of the power. And for his old enemy to do the unthinkable, to relinquish the power? It wasn't an outcome anyone had ever imagined…

"A toast, my friends!" Minsc boomed, raising his flagon with a slam of his other fist to the table. "The Heroes of Faerun drink here today- Minsc is proud to call every one of you allies and friends. There could be no finer assembly of men and women, eh?"

"I guess not." Greywulf chuckled softly, draining a portion of his mug as the others followed suit, before he cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention once more. "This day… this moment, it isn't just for us though… we're sitting here thanks to the blood of everyone who died fighting beside us. We got a chance to say good bye to some of them, if only for a short time… this is as much their victory as it is ours. To the fallen."

Another toast and another drink- the ale warmed as it went down, flushing his face with blood and filling his spirit with cheer as he soaked in the feeling of freedom and bliss- it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Imoen was as bright and vibrant as she had ever been- it was as though she'd never left Candlekeep. Even Jaheira, whose features were always weighed down with the memory of what she'd lost, with the burden of her past choices… for a short time, it could be argued that she was carefree, without any sign of the stress or worry she could bind up so tightly within.

Aerie leaned in to the table, resting her fingers atop Minsc's and letting the ranger's hand clasp hers. She smiled gently, then glanced at Imoen and Greywulf, voicing the question everyone had been thinking since their return. "What happened to you… back in the Planes. When you became those… gods? What was it like?"

Neither of the three spoke immediately- Greywulf and Imoen exchanged glances, thought and uncertainty knitting both of their brows. Sarevok did not even look up, he simply continued to stare down into the pit of his tankard, as though searching for answers in the ale before him. The silence, encompassed by the din of the Coronet, continued until it became nearly unbearable- finally Imoen spoke up, shaking her head. "I dunno how to describe it, Aerie… it wasn't something I'm sure I can really put into words, y'know?"

"It was like I could see… everything." Greywulf considered. "Like the world was so much smaller than it really is… like all the things that matter to me here, now… they weren't even registering to me when I was that… thing."

"Like us?" Jaheira asked quietly. He met her glance- it was not one of accusation or fear, simply curiosity… he nodded, smiling with only a hint of sadness or regret in his tone.

"Yeah… a little bit. The bonds that we… that all of us share… they faded in the glow of divinity." Greywulf admitted. "I wish I could say that there was never a chance of us deciding to keep the power, but…"

"It would've been easy to stay there, in the planes…" Imoen sighed, folding her arms and resting her chin on a palm, pink hair dangling before her eyes as she brushed it back behind her ears. "That we came back is thanks to you all. You're the only reason we're here right now."

"The same could be said of you." Anomen offered, gesturing to them both. "You gave each of us, whether we knew it at the time or not, a purpose. A reason for embarking on this journey of yours- none of us have emerged from these wars unscathed, but I would venture that all of us are the better for it."

A murmur of agreement passed over the table… and with a single downing of the remnants of his ale, Sarevok slid his chair out from the table and stood, turning from the group and stalking toward the Copper Coronet's exit. The others all glanced at him with expressions ranging from disgust to surprise- Greywulf stood, gesturing for the others to remain seated. "I'll go after him. Don't worry… I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Imoen asked, beginning to stand as well- he waved her off, shaking his head with a smile.

"No… I think this is something he'd prefer stay between just the two of us."

Greywulf could feel the vague glares of disapproval headed his way as he followed the path of the Deathbringer through the hustle and clamor of the tavern's insides, brushing past chatting patrons and laughing drunkards, nodding only briefly to Bernard and Hendak as he stepped out into the cool evening air of Athkatla. Off to the side, Sarevok stood in full armor, checking the straps on his gauntlets, the tightness of his sheath and the snugness of the blade within it. It was a simple pre-travel check Greywulf had seen Sarevok do every morning they'd traveled together the past few months. He knew exactly what it meant.

"Not even a goodbye then? I hadn't expected you to sneak out like this." Greywulf gathered his robes around him, stepping away from the Coronet's doorframe to settle a dozen paces behind the big man, his face only half-lit with the torch burning on the frame of the tavern's door.

A half-hearted chuckle issued from the armored figure- he didn't even bother turning around to respond. "I would hardly call my exit a 'sneak'. I thought it was quite clear."

"You are rather… hard to miss." Greywulf agreed. "Still, I'd thought you would stick around longer… it's only been a day since we returned from the Planes. You would have had a place here, if you had wanted one. You know that, right?"

"I know it well enough." Sarevok finally turned, his glowing yellow eyes unnerving as they fixed upon Greywulf like searchlights in the dark. "And I am… grateful, for the opportunities you have provided me. Even if you squandered my final chance at godhood…"

"As if you could complain about it?" Greywulf scoffed, wrapping himself up tighter to protect from the chill of the night air. "You made the choice right alongside Imoen and me-"

"Did I? A choice?" Sarevok growled. "What choice did I have, truly? You and Imoen would have pooled your powers and lain waste to me had I chosen to defy you both. I could not stand before your combined strengths. I chose life over death… a mortal life, thanks to you. Do not think I will forget that fact."

The brief outburst of anger was enough to quell both of them for a time… Greywulf finally spoke again. "So there was no sense of freedom you felt upon finally being rid of the taint… no relief at unburdening yourself of the darkness of Bhaal. You're telling me that Imoen and I made that call and left you out in the cold with no other options."

It was a frosty silence between the two at Greywulf's challenge- the glare between the two men could've melted glaciers, but it was Sarevok who broke the silence, a begrudging acquiescence in his tone. "You call it a burden… but for me, it was a constant companion. A reminder of what I could hope to achieve someday. To lose it in such a way… I had once sworn I would die before relinquishing my power. And yet, letting it go was… easier, than I had anticipated. That I was willing to follow you at all speaks to something I'm not certain I fully understand… nor do I care to, for now."

His words were honest, if uncertain- and Greywulf knew that pressing him more would do no good. The big man would have to learn what being fully human and mortal meant to him, and nobody could help him do that but himself. "And what does that mean for you and me then? Should I be looking over my shoulder from now on, afraid of seeing you in my shadow every day?"

The wicked smirk crossing Sarevok's face did nothing to ease Greywulf's spirits. "Make no mistake, brother… our truce ended the moment we returned from the Realm of Murder. I am not one of your faithful companions inside the Coronet… we were allies of necessity. Siblings in blood…"

"But never friends, is that it?" Greywulf finished, arms folded as he smiled wryly. "You can say it, I won't be offended."

"Do you think I care?" Sarevok arched an eyebrow and chuckled lightly. "Your prize for defeating Amelyssan and the Five was the defiance of your destiny in the heavens… my prize will be the creation of my own destiny, a freedom I've never truly had before. It will be… interesting, I think."

"That's fair enough." Greywulf admitted, relaxing a bit, despite himself. "Forging your own path is an admirable goal… so long as it doesn't involve carving a bloody swath across the Realms."

"And if it does?" Sarevok countered, though his voice carried no trace of humor or jesting as he spoke, turning Greywulf's body a bit cold in the aftermath of his words. "Whatever destiny I choose to create for my own will be just that… my own. For both of our sakes, it would be best if we simply do not meet again, I think."

The sorcerer let the tension bleed out from between them for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You may be right about that."

The big man turned away from Greywulf again, checking his armor and weaponry one last time- he adjusted the pauldrons on the Red Dragon Scale he was wearing- Greywulf noted it as Sarevok began to move- as though the Deathbringer knew what he was about to say, Sarevok tossed behind him, "I'm keeping the armor… unless you plan to stop me."

It wasn't a question… Greywulf didn't even bother responding. He simply waited until Sarevok started moving again, and then watched as the red glint of the man's draconic armor vanished from sight into the streets of the City of Coin, nothing but shadows and empty rage left in his wake. Greywulf exhaled softly, preparing to turn around and head back inside- a petite form landed in a crouch in front of him, sending him stumbling back a moment in surprise- Imoen straightened up with her bow in hand, wincing at the impact of the drop to her knees as she'd landed on the hard cobblestone outside the tavern. "Yeeesh… thought he'd never leave."

"Im…" Greywulf frowned, his eyes tracing her up and down. "What, were you afraid he'd leave without saying goodbye?"

"Nah. More that he'd be a sore loser and stick that blade in your gut." Imoen countered, poking Greywulf in the belly with the shaft of her bow. "Why do you think I had an arrow aimed at his head from the moment you two started talking?"

Greywulf glanced up at the window facing out toward the front of the Coronet, where she had leapt from- he smiled, taking the gesture in the way it was meant. "Thanks, Im. You've always had my back, all these years... this day, this victory, is just as much about you as it is me. I know you don't like the spotlight, you like to let me lead but… I wouldn't be here tonight, alive, if it weren't for you."

"Of course you wouldn't." Imoen teased, wrapping her arms around Greywulf as the two siblings embraced quietly in the evening air. She looked up at him with her eyes wide, all traces of joking gone from her loving gaze. "Greywulf… when we were in that place, and you came to me as that… god of Vengeance? Asking me to join you and fight Amelyssan?"

He began to relax his embrace of her, but she clung to him tighter, almost fiercely as he held her gaze. "Yeah. I remember it…"

"I thought… I thought that when I chose to go with you, that was it. Decision made, for the rest of eternity." Imoen smiled sadly. "You know I never wanted that kind of power, or any sort of destiny in the Heavens… do you know why I went anyway? It was you… you told me that it was you and me, all the way to the end. An end in the heavens, as gods… I couldn't have handled it alone. But an eternity at your side… that, I could have done."

She let go, wiping away tears that were forming at her eyes, smiling brightly at her brother. "I love you, Greywulf. I would do anything for you, you know that?"

"I know, Immy. And I love you too." He nodded, walking back inside with her, one arm around her shoulder. He thought about the girl beside him as they returned from the cold, re-emerged into the comforting embrace of the Copper Coronet and its unyielding blast of noise and familiarity. The girl would never leave him, never forsake him. In her own special way, she was dearer to him than any other of his companions, even Jaheira. And yet… as he turned the corner and looked upon the smiling faces of his dearest companions, he felt the bittersweet realization fill every fiber of his being… the quest was over. The journey, as long and hard as it had been, was complete. For the past seven years, from the halls of Candlekeep to the citadel of Baldur's Gate, from the glory of Suldenesselar to the depths of the Abyss, their lives had revolved around his heritage, and now… now it was time for a new life.

"Your brother does not return to the festivities, it seems?" Haer'Dalis noted as Greywulf and Imoen returned, the two siblings glancing at one another, as though unsure of what to say to the others.

It was Greywulf who eventually spoke, inhaling sharply as conflicting emotions crossed his face, finally settling on a weak smile. "Yeah…. he's gone. And I don't think he's coming back. At least, not willingly."

"Good riddance." Jaheira noted, her feelings on full display, as always. "It will be nice to sleep without the fear of our throats being cut in the dark once more."

A flicker of humor crossed the table at Jaheira's acerbic comment, though there was a certain sense of regret in the eyes of the warriors who celebrated among them- whether from simple respect for the skills of their companion, or appreciation of the role Sarevok had played in bringing them victory in the end, it was not the full rejection of the Deathbringer that some might have expected. That there would be any regret in the loss of one who had cost them so much in the past was, in itself, perhaps the greatest surprise of all.

It grew silent at the table for a moment- Minsc broke the silence with a slamming of his mug down, his unapologetic grin unmoved by the sudden announcement of Sarevok's departure. "Come, my friends! We should not let such thoughts dim today's celebration, eh? We are victorious and should behave as such tonight! Let nothing dim the spirits of man, woman, or hamster! Rejoice, and let the lands as far as Neverwinter hear our songs tonight!"

A chorus of cheers echoed from the table, Greywulf unable to help himself from adding his voice, raising an empty hand as well. There was so much that needed to be said to them… the gratitude he felt for his family, but the knowledge that despite the very best outcome he could have hoped for… the hard part was yet to come. The process of saying goodbye. The knowledge that eventually, someday… this would all come to an end.

Minsc rose from the table and gestured for the others to join him as he headed towards the bar, several mug handles clutched between his meaty fingers as he moved to refill their tankards- Anomen and Haer'Dalis followed in his wake with laughs as the bard and squire threw their arms around Minsc's shoulders, guffawing together as they met Hendak and Bernard at the bar with booming cheers.

At the far end of the table, Viconia slid over into Haer'Dalis recently vacated spot, whispering something into Solaufein's ear- he seemed to stiffen at the words, but let out a rare laugh and glanced back to her, exchanging a few quiet words as well- the cleric nodded with what appeared to be satisfaction, and to anyone who was watching, it would appear that there was little more than friendly conversation taking place between the two, maybe sharing some easy conversation over their shared heritage. For those who knew the famously quiet Solaufein and Viconia's hardened exterior, they would know there was no 'easy' conversation for them.

Aerie rose from her spot on the table and drew to Imoen's side- Greywulf unwrapped his arm from her and watched as the two girls exchanged a few excited words, their unbridled joy and twin sensibilities of fun made the decision easy- the two whirled around the room, entwined in a joyous dance to music none but they could hear. Greywulf caught Aerie's eye as she spun with Imoen, her wings unfurling and knocking drinks from tables to the ground- he nodded gently at the delight in Aerie's eyes, stepping back to allow them their fun as bar patrons began to clap and sing in time to the dance of the two young women.

The only one left at the table was Jaheira- she looked up at him with expectation and a wistful smile- he sat beside her, resting one hand on the small of her back as he tucked the gray cloak draped around his shoulders behind the stool he was upon. The din of the crowd and the bar seemed to quiet around them- a feeling of peace surrounded them both, and Greywulf willed himself to forget the concerns and thoughts of what would become of the family he loved so much.

"Copper for your thoughts?"

Jaheira's content tones drew his attention- he rested his head upon her shoulder and sighed with satisfaction. "Just… happy. That's all. It's kind of a strange feeling, being at peace like this. I didn't think it would ever really happen, you know?"

She nodded, her emerald eyes glittering in the dim light of the tavern. "I understand… you think this life will be the end of you. For many, it is… we know this better than most, yes? It makes these moments, these small, quiet moments that much more sacred."

Her words settled his spirit and calmed his thoughts- looking upon the dance of Aerie and Imoen, the camaraderie of Minsc, Anomen, and Haer'Dalis, the quiet connection between Solaufein and Viconia. All of these men and women had sacrificed so much for him- he didn't have the right to keep them at his side any further. He would be glad to see the world with them at his side… but they had lives to live as well.

"You seem restless… does the feeling of peace not suit you?" Jaheira murmured, a half teasing tone in her voice, as she watched Aerie lift off of the ground with her wings flapping furiously, igniting a cheer from the crowds in the bar as she dangled Imoen from her hands in the high ceiling of the Coronet.

"It's nothing… I just…" he paused, hesitant to voice his concerns. The piercing inquisitiveness in his lover's gaze, the knowledge of how fiercely she cared for him, wanted to be a part of his life- it pushed past any sense of selfishness he may have held and he smiled, nodding gently. "Sarevok didn't say goodbye. He just left. That was his way of doing things, for better or worse. It's not mine."

"You have nothing left in your life to compare yourself to Sarevok." Jaheira stated without hesitation, shaking her head as her braids swung gently in front of her face. "The taint is no longer part of you- what the both of you do with your lives is now up to you. Not your blood, not some divine destiny thrust upon you… yours alone."

He closed his eyes and nodded with a smile- it was true. There were at least a dozen more dangers and challenges out there waiting for him- the army of Tethyr had almost certainly not forgotten the decimation of their army at Sendai's hands, and he wouldn't be surprised if they held him and Imoen responsible. The actions of the Five could not have made Bhaalspawn any more popular, and those who learned what he had been would still be wary of him. Any of another hundred fanatics would be out for his head… and tonight, none of it mattered. The day after, the week after, the month or year after… when the time came to say goodbye, he would do so, with all the gratitude he could muster for those who had been at his side for so long. But it would not be tonight.

"And as for goodbyes… that is in the future, for another time." Jaheira crossed her legs upon the stool, turning to sit directly facing Greywulf, entwining her hands in his. "What do you see for us, in our days ahead?"

He frowned in mock thought, cocking his head to the right just slightly. "Hmm… I'll have to think about that one for a bit. How about…a full, long life alongside the woman I love?"

"Growing old and wizened together, then?" Jaheira laughed. "Settling down when our hair has turned gray and our bodies frail?"

"Something like that." He winked, pulling her off the stool and into an embrace with her. She kissed him fiercely, the two releasing everything they'd been holding back- fears over their future, doubts about their relationship, all of it. No more second thoughts. No more self-doubt or uncertainty. For the first time- perhaps for both of them… the present, the future… both could say they were looking forward to it.

X

The present…

The grandeur of the High Hall of the Radiant Heart was always awe-inspiring- to be seen in the splendor of a full celebration or ceremony simply added that much more to the spectacle. The onlookers were quiet, unwilling to intrude upon this most solemn of oaths and ceremonies, especially knowing everything that had been sacrificed to bring the man at the center of all of this to this final moment.

In the center of the Hall of Paladins, two armored knights stood at guard, the Prelate of the Order between them. Footsteps echoed through the marble lined hall, as the glinting form of Anomen Delryn strode through the hall, down the long path of glory where a number of knights and old friends waited and watched. Anomen tried to ignore the beads of sweat rolling down his face, pooling in his gauntlets as he made the long walk that ended at the Prelate of the Order.

Very few got to watch the knighting ceremonies- they were small, private affairs… mostly just family and close friends. He had never been the most social man in the Order, alienating those who might have been friends early on in his time here. His family was long gone- Moira and his father, both murdered by a man now brought to justice. And yet… a different kind of family bore witness now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the gray robes of the half-elf sorcerer and the pink hair of his sister, the chainmail of the druid at his side. Light blue robes around a petite elven form, the unmistakably broad frame of the Rashemani ranger, and the flamboyant leathers on the bard who watched with a wink and a grin, perhaps a sucker for happy endings in his own right. The two drow elves, somehow allowed into the Order despite their heritage- the word of the former Bhaalspawn still counted for much in these parts, it seemed. All his family, in spirit if not blood, the only ones here at his greatest moment of accomplishment. In truth, it was their victory as much as his own- if not for them, he would- and should- never have come so far. Reaching the end of his path, stopping two paces in front of the Prelate of the Order, he felt his heart thump in his chest as Wessaren spoke the words he'd been waiting to hear for the past several years.

"Kneel, squire Delyrn. Speak now the oaths that will bind you to the service of the Order, to the service of your god, and to the service of all that is right in the lands of Faerun."

Anomen breathed in, then out… swallowing once, he began speaking. "Here do I affirm my oath of fealty and service to the Order of the Radiant Heart. I hereby swear by my words and by my deeds to be a worthy knight, an example of chivalry to the people of Faerun, to be ever courteous and reverent, to seek the righteous path in all of my actions, to be courageous and faithful, loyal and true."

He felt a shiver run down his frame as he spoke, continuing the oaths as he tried to keep his voice from cracking. "And I do hereby swear to temper justice with mercy, to be temperate and humble, to defend the weak, to help the helpless, to champion the fatherless, to uphold good in every situation I may witness. I will teach all I can, learn all I can, and remain true to Helm as he has remained true to me. In all of these things I swear to be faithful until the day I die."

A sword was drawn from its sheath as Anomen knelt, his head bowed- he felt a shudder go through his body as the blade rested upon his right shoulder, then his left, and finally, the voice of Prelate Wessaren spoke once more. "Rise, Sir Anomen Delyrn, and take your place in the Brotherhood of the Order of the Radiant Heart."

X

The future…

Sir Anomen wiped sweat from his brow as he hiked the last few yards up one of the numerous hills in the country surrounding the De'Arnise wastelands. It was a hike he'd been long used to, but it seemed as though the climb was that much harder, knowing what sight would be waiting for him on the other side.

It had taken some time- not long, but more than he would have liked, to convince the Order to allow him to lead a command of squires and other knights to the De'Arnise lands to aid those who might have yet lived after the devastation caused by Nalia in her madness in Watcher's Keep. It was the first rescue or mercy mission attempted here since the devastation six months ago- that nobody had gone to help those in need since then was a travesty. Some excuse could be made for the Order in how stretched their forces were after the Bhaalspawn wars, but it did not make the plight of those trapped there any more bearable. That Anomen had begged for the opportunity to help had only made the decision to send him that much easier. Getting support to do so, bringing enough young blood to help him had been more difficult, but the accounts provided of his time spent in Watcher's Keep had been enough to convince his superiors of his capabilities to lead, if only a mercy mission.

He thought briefly of those under his command, and how different they were from the men and women he'd traveled with; how much more they needed him, instead of the other way around. The party and he had said their goodbyes not long after their return to Athkatla- only a few days after his knighting ceremony, truth be told. As much as they would have been willing to help, to try and aid the De'Arnise people in rebuilding what was left of their home… other matters had come up. They always did, for men and women like that. The next great adventure, the next threat to be battled. He'd been that way as well for so long, always looking to which evil needed to be vanquished next, to the threats that needed to be quelled. Now… as he finally reached the peak of the hills overlooking the land, he saw what in his heart had known to be true. Blackened soil, littered with broken crystal and scorched stone. The ruins of the Keep, hurtling from the sky like a meteor as Nalia's magical control had failed. Grass torn up and burned as whirlwinds of fire had engulfed the lands- the villages and homes that surrounded the Keep were scattered, torn down and ruined.

"By the gods… what happened to this place?" the quavering voice of one his squires- Jonathan, was it? - issued behind him. Anomen turned and rested his hand on the young man's shoulder, his eyes steely and unshaken.

"Calm yourself, lad. The people here need us at our best- they need to see hope, not fear. We have come to bring them that hope, to as many as we may."

The company slowly ventured down that hilly path, stumbling yet maintaining some semblance of a formation as they drew closer and closer, the crunch of burned rock and ruined soil echoing around them as they took their first steps onto the desolate landscape. Anomen raised a hand to block the sun from his eyes and scanned the area- no signs of life. Had he been expecting otherwise? Perhaps… a foolish hope, thinking on it as he looked over the complete wasteland before him, but one he could not abandon.

He motioned to the company to keep moving, and set further onward into the dark reaches of the De'Arnise lands, pushing forward toward where the Keep had once stood. Crystalline pieces of the Keep were strewn all over, embedded in the ground, and boulder sized chunks of large obsidian stone were scattered like leaves in autumn. Still no signs of life. Still no signs that this land could be saved or brought back from its full corruption.

"Sir… there's no way anybody yet lives in this place. The land itself is broken, desolate…" the voice of the young squire, mixed with both impatience and fear echoed through and past Anomen- he simply knelt, whispering a prayer to Helm for those who had died in this place, picked up some of the burned soil in his gauntlet and watched it trickle through and float away in the breeze.

The silence dragged on, and it was fair to wonder if the knight had even heard the young man speak- finally Anomen stood and waved them forward. "We keep on. We don't give up hope. We never stop hoping."

The younger squires and acolytes nodded and moved to follow, but it was obvious that they did not understand… how could they? They hadn't seen the miracle he'd been privy to, the final destiny of the god-children. If a man and his sister could overcome all odds, deny prophecy itself and defeat the very Lord of Murder reborn… then what business did he have choosing despair over faith?

X

The present…

Solaufein glanced down at Viconia, the woman characteristically silent as the pair walked through the streets of Athkatla, the sun just beginning to peek above the horizon. The glare caused Viconia to draw her hood over her white hair immediately, though whether it was due to the light blinding her eyes or the fear that others would notice what she was in daylight, she did not care to elaborate. Solaufein merely allowed himself a tight smile, keeping his head down as they continued their path through the winding paths of the City of Coin, their destination always in mind- there.

The Gates of the city, a flurry of activity as traders and merchants filed in, their cargo and wares checked by guards and customs, while some merchants took their riches and purchased goods out of the city, off to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Viconia exhaled lightly as she looked upon the massive archway- she glanced up at Solaufein, who offered her a brief smile. She nodded once, then wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and pressed onward. The pair drew ever closer to the gaping maw of wilderness outside the city of Amn… shadows slipped from the small alleys and shadows surrounding the path leading toward the gates, and the flurry of movement spurred a sudden spinning of Viconia, her hand immediately going to the mace hanging at her side-

"Good morning. You two are up awfully early." Greywulf's easy tones spurred both a sigh of relief from Viconia, followed quickly by a drow curse from the woman.

"Damn you, jaluk- you were not supposed to be here." She growled, even as Minsc, Imoen and the others made their presence known, the group facing opposite the two drow as they stood in the shadow of the grand archway. "How did you-?"

She trailed off, then glared daggers at Solaufein, the large man remaining as stoic and unreadable as ever. He met the gaze of Imoen, who winked at him, and his exterior broke for just a brief moment- he shrugged, glancing down to the accusing gaze of Viconia. "You told me you wanted to leave without any goodbyes. I did not say I wanted to."

She swore again, folding her arms before looking to Solaufein with what was only a half-disgusted glare. "Fine. Have your sappy goodbyes. Do not expect me to let you forget this when we are on the road."

Greywulf could not suppress a chuckle, he stepped over to Solaufein, looking into the red eyes of the dark warrior- an extended hand was met in turn, the two exchanging a handshake of mutual respect and admiration. "I'm glad you didn't let her slip off without telling us."

"I told her I would help her adjust to life on the surface in a better way, just as you did for me." Solaufein replied. "Part of that will be learning to appreciate those whom you would lay down your life for. Make no mistake, friends… I would do the same for every one of you in a heartbeat."

"I am standing right here, as you well know. Do not speak about me as if I am not." Viconia rolled her eyes, narrowing her gaze as Aerie and Minsc came to the woman, the Avariel bowing just slightly to Viconia with respect.

"And so our lurid romance comes to an end, my dear blackbird." Haer'Dalis took her hand and raised it to his lips to kiss it- she pulled it away with a stony glare, though it did nothing to quell the teasing grin on the tiefling's features.

"You have my best wishes, Viconia… may the gods watch over you as you travel." Aerie spoke with a chuckle of her own, even as Minsc reached out to embrace the drow- Viconia raised an arm threateningly, enough where Minsc backed off with a sheepish grin- only to laugh and grab the woman anyway, burying Viconia's complaints under his bulk.

"We will miss you, Viconia! You have a strong warrior to protect you, just like Minsc! Even though you are not quite the same as Aerie, you are still a witch of sorts. If you want, Minsc can teach you some Rashemani recipes for the road, though many of them require herbs found in snowier climates. Do you know where the two of you are headed?" Minsc asked, gazing down at Viconia as she struggled to push Minsc off of her- this was exactly why she'd insisted to Solaufein they depart before the others were awake. Why she'd wanted to leave without giving the group the chance to perform this ridiculous ceremony, forcing her to endure smiles and embraces and well-wishes before resuming her life on the road. There was no need for it, any debts between her and the others were long settled, and friendships… she would remember these surfacers, even fondly, but that didn't mean this had to be dragged out at length.

She was about to recoil violently from Minsc, to forget her decision to travel with Solaufein at all and simply be on her way, alone once more… and her eyes met Jaheira's. The look in her eyes as she met Viconia's gaze was not of mockery, or relief at her departure- it was a simple nod, an acknowledgement of respect and wishing well for her future. That… at least that, was something she could handle. And as she finally allowed herself to see the others, to look past the goofy joviality of Minsc, to ignore the unnecessary well-wishing from Aerie and Imoen, the maddening, flowery verse of the bard Haer'Dalis… she could see that in the end, for all of their faults and annoyances- respect, tolerance… that's all these people had ever given her. To throw it back in their faces would be unworthy of what they'd offered her for the last year. She forced a weak smile onto her face and gave the damned surfacers what they wanted.

Greywulf glanced over at Viconia and then chuckled, handing a small pouch of coins to Solaufein. "Heh. Looks like you win the bet- I thought sure she'd storm out cursing us, especially once Minsc got his hug in."

"She has a good heart- I have seen that much in the time I have spent with her. She is… perhaps, what I would have been, had I not had your guidance upon leaving the Underdark." Solaufein offered. "I will… miss traveling with you all. Still, if I can show Viconia a better way, then perhaps I can do the same for others of my kin. Surely I cannot be the only one who has fled the confines of Ust Natha for a different path."

"I hope your search proves successful." Greywulf nodded. "We'll miss having you with us, you know. It's been one hell of a ride. You always have a place with us, should you want it."

"I think if I were to come back, I would be hard pressed to leave again." Solaufein uttered, taking one meaningful glance at Imoen, before returning his gaze to Greywulf.

Greywulf watched the exchange between his sister and the drow- he arched an eyebrow and shrugged. "The two of you would have been good together. I'm surprised she isn't going with you, honestly. You've certainly grown close enough the last couple of years."

"She would not, even if I were to ask. We… discussed the prospect last night." Solaufein smiled sadly, reaching out to take hold of Greywulf's hands in his own squeezing them tightly. "Her loyalty belongs to another, my friend… I doubt there is enough room in her heart to ever quite pick another man over you."

"That's… not what I want for her." Greywulf murmured, glancing between her feet as Solaufein released his grip, taking a step back and drawing his cloak around him again.

"And could you change her heart? No… she is a flame, untamable and wild." The drow uttered. "What you want and what she wants may prove to be two separate things… in the end, can we all have what we want? Perhaps not."

He glanced upward, watching as the line of shadow upon the cobblestone streets around them crept forward, about to cover them in the morning light as the sun continued its ascent into the sky. He turned from Greywulf and strode away from the others, drawing Viconia from Aerie and Minsc as well. The two departing drow once again, standing opposite the six remaining party members. "We have tarried long enough, I think. Be well, my friends."

"Take care of yourself." Jaheira tossed at Viconia the only words she'd spoken since their meeting here at the gates. Viconia considered the enmity they'd shared for so long- she laughed, choosing to simply nod and turn, walking astride Solaufein as they vanished into the sun, enveloping them in the morning glow.

X

The future…

Heavy breathing and the sound of stones ricocheting off stone tunnels and cavernous passages echoed all around as the footfalls of the fleeing elves thudded in time with their heartbeats, the pair of weary survivors trying desperately to shake their dark pursuers in the tunnels below ground- "Hurry, Elbereth! They draw near!"

One of the two elves stumbled, skidding to a halt as his companion abruptly halted as well, going back to try and pull her friend to his feet, to get him moving again- even as the dirtied elf rose to his feet, a pair of dark elves rounded the corner behind them, clad in adamantine armor and wielding curved scimitars- they shouted commands in the drow tongue, and bore down upon the fleeing pair that could not muster the strength to flee once more- they held one another and cringed at the oncoming deathblow-

A flash of silver and a massive two-handed blade came from the shadow and intercepted both downswings, then shunted them back with a grunt of effort. The two drow hunters turned to look as Solaufein's red eyes glinted in the dark and his bulk rushed out, shoving one of them to the ground and sending the other stumbling back. A boot lashed out to deflect the fallen drow's arm from coming back around to swing his sword and Solaufein ended the fight quickly with a downward thrust. The other drow was already back in stance, moving to charge- he never saw Viconia's mace swing from behind him and crush his skull, sending the corpse flopping to the ground, twitching twice before laying still.

The elves cowering looked upon Solaufein and Viconia's visages with terror, unsure of what had happened, only certain that these drow would be their deaths as easily as the others would have been- "Pick up their weapons. Arm yourselves, if you can. It is still several hours' journey back to the surface, and we cannot take you all the way back." Viconia spoke first, gesturing with her weapon toward the fallen soldiers, but the only response from the frightened escapees was a whimper. "Well? Do you intend to simply lie down and die then? I could swear that the rivvil are more courageous than you elves at times…"

"Patience, Viconia." Solaufein offered, kneeling sheathing his weapon and moving to the two elves' side, even as they backed away, into the cavernous walls of the tunnels around them. "Do you know the way out? Back to the entrance to the elven temple upon the surface?"

After several silent moments, one of the two shook his head with a jerk, not letting his eyes leave the drow before him. "W-we've been trapped down in the Underdark for so long… enslaved by you and your people… we didn't know where we were running to, just that we couldn't stay any longer. If you're going to kill us, just be done with it!"

"What is the world coming to when I have better manners than my surface kin?" Viconia snorted. "I know what you're going to say, Solaufein…"

"That we should escort them all the way back to the surface?" he replied quietly, eliciting a glare from Viconia that was positively Jaheira-esque in nature. Not that he would ever tell her that, of course. "They will never make it back on their own. They've been down here too long…"

"We came down to this place to help our people, not these foolish elves who've lost themselves in the darkness." Viconia argued, but they both knew what their final decision would be. Her conscience had grown too much over the past several years for her to do anything else.

"And the drow back at our encampment can handle themselves for another day or so without us." Solaufein replied, folding his arms quietly as Viconia growled, shaking her head and gesturing with one hand as she hung her mace at her side with the other. "Why I put up with this at all is beyond me. Very well, lead the way for these most courageous of kin…"

Solaufein let the hint of a smirk cross his features as he began moving, pausing only briefly to regard the still quivering elven couple. "Do you wish freedom? Then follow. Or do not, I am certain Viconia would prefer if we left you here…"

As the four of them traveled in silence through the winding passages of the Underdark tunnels, always tilting upward as they returned to the surface world, one of the elves finally worked up the nerve to speak, looking at Solaufein in mixture of fear and curiosity. "Why are you helping us? You are drow, the enemy of our people…"

"That you would classify my entire race in those terms is precisely why I do what I do." Solaufein replied quietly, raising a hand as they prepared to turn a corner- he flattened himself against the wall and peered around the corner- around the corner were two men clad in golden elven armor and emerald cloaks, their bows in hand as they stalked quietly through the tunnels, heading their direction. Solaufein relaxed, considering his next move- it wouldn't do to get shot by an overeager patrol- he cleared his throat rather loudly, immediately drawing a flurry of motion from the two elven warriors- their bows immediately went to the ready, only to lower immediately as the two elven survivors ran from their rescuers and into view of their kindred.

"Not even a thank you." Viconia noted with a hint of bitterness as they watched the two from the darkness- before slipping back into the shadows, returning to the former lair of Adalon the Silver.

"-and that's exactly how it happened." One of the survivors explained, resting back on the makeshift chair in the elven encampment that was stationed at the temple entrance to the Underdark. It was much more fortified these days, after the incursion by Irenicus and the drow so many years ago. At least a hundred warriors and archers strong at any given time, with rotating shifts of mages and guardsmen to make certain that the borders between the two races remained strong for the future.

The elven warrior Gelehad leaned back as the survivor finished his story, rubbing his chin in thought. Commander Elhan had given him this assignment, to watch over the temple entrance- but more importantly, to keep track of the progress that the 'Wraiths of the Underdark' were making. He nodded and thanked the two survivors for their aid, then sent them for medical attention and rest- he dismissed the rest of the guards in his tent and clasped his hands under his chin as he reflected upon the irony of the situation… Solaufein and Viconia had come to the high elven court almost seven years ago, requesting entrance to the Underdark once more. Solaufein's role in saving Suldenesselar from the Exile was well-remembered by the Queen- against the better judgment of everyone who served in her court, she had granted them leave to re-enter the darkness below.

Nobody save Ellesime herself knew exactly what their plans and ambitions were- some said they sought to take vengeance on their former kin, one life at a time. That they appeared to kill random patrols and terrorize Ust Natha's streets every night. Others spoke of them as guardian angels who helped travelers and escaped slaves reach freedom. He'd certainly witnessed both- the bodies of drow who had not fallen at his men's hands and the lives of those escaped elves who'd spoken of a pair of drow that acted like no other of their race.

And yet, that couldn't be it, not completely. There was something more that these two were seeking, something that had convinced Queen Ellesime to not only give them access to the Underdark, but spur Ellesime to command her army, Gelehad included, to leave the pair alone. He was not to engage or seek out the rogue drow under any circumstances… and yet, Elhan expected progress reports on how they were faring. He pushed the thoughts of them from his mind and shook his head with amusement... whatever the drow were up to, it could hardly matter to a simple soldier such as he…

In the winding stair that led to Adalon's former home, Solaufein led the way, his hand raised high with the light gem that illuminated the intense darkness that would block the way for any trespassers. He and Viconia had made most of the trip back in silence- despite her unwillingness to show it, he could tell that she took some satisfaction in helping those they rescued in the darkness. Perhaps seeing those oppressed reach freedom brought back memories of her escape from certain death down in this oppressive hole.

It was fair enough to ask, then, since both had such terrible experiences with this hellscape, why they would come back. Why they would return to Ust Natha, a city without regard for them or their new outlooks on life? Solaufein let a smile cross his face as the two of them reached the bottom of the stairway- looking out in the massive den they saw almost a dozen tents and two or three fully constructed stone homes, with another scattering of half built houses in the midst of the massive cavern.

In the back of the cavern several drow men were chipping away at the stone walls, expanding the cavern further, while others worked on the houses- two came to greet Viconia and Solaufein as they entered.

"It is good to see you both return- did you find any others?"

"No, but we did rescue another pair of our surface cousin slaves." Viconia spoke, glaring softly at Solaufein. "He insisted that we escort them back to their own before we returned."

"More of the darthien needed our assistance?" one of the two scoffed, folding his arms and rolling his crimson eyes. "Perhaps our new home could be their temple above; it would certainly take less effort than the time we've spent down here in the dragon's old den."

A cold glare from Solaufein ended the drow's bravado- Solaufein spoke quietly, but steel was evident behind his words. "The Queen of Suldenesselar herself gave us leave to try and build a settlement that would someday be a bridge between our two races- if our race is ever to pull itself from the dark, then you would do well to let go of your hate sooner rather than later. I trust everything went well in our absence?"

"As well as can be expected." The other drow spoke, glancing back at the work taking place on their makeshift village. "The spell upon the tunnel keeps intruders out easily enough- construction on our homes is slow, but progressing. We still have plenty of room to expand, though- do you truly think we will fill this entire cavern up someday?

Solaufein did not answer. Over fifty men and women who had taken his offer to flee from Ust Natha and try to start a better life. In the span of seven years… a mere blink in the lifespans of elves, he'd built a network inside the city, learned how to find people, how to get them out and to flee back here without bringing the wrath of the Matron Mothers down upon them. There were more, there had to be. Together, they would continue to build. Continue to grow, to flourish. And someday… someday, he and Viconia would lead their people out of the darkness for good, just as Greywulf and Imoen and the others had done for them, so long ago.

"So… we rest for today, then return to Ust Natha tomorrow, yes?" Viconia sighed, gesturing for the two others to return to their duties as they built their city from the ground up. "I… must admit. I did not think this would work. I thought following you into this task was a fool's errand when we began. I still do, every now and then. This is not the life I had imagined for myself…"

"Nor I, truthfully…" Solaufein murmured quietly, looking on the toil of those before them, building something good out of a place that devoured everything it touched. A chance, if only the smallest of chances, that they could deny the accepted destiny of the drow. He allowed himself to think wistfully on the friends he'd left behind, to imagine their defiance of the role destiny had for them, and how they had created something good in the darkness of murder. If they could do it… so could he.

X

The present…

The lights in the downstairs chambers of the Five Flagons Inn theater were dimmed, the crowd seated in the numerous seats packed to capacity and beyond. Men and women were standing in the aisles, crowding in the back of the room to see what was being hailed as the finest story in all of Amn… for those who had actually lived said story out, the telling proved to be… somewhat inaccurate, if still rather enjoyable.

The roar of the crowd echoed through the entirety of the theater as the blue-haired tiefling leapt from the curtains, a quarterstaff in his hands swinging back and forth in spinning arcs as he skipped across the stage, miming a slash to the throat of the two men standing upon one another in an attempt to simulate the height and bulk of Yaga-Shura the giant- as the two fell, the lower man cleverly concealed underneath bright red robes, Haer'Dalis turned around and snatched a grey cloak from the stage and donned it, drawing a long wooden wand he carried at his belt and pointing it at a woman who was rushing him from the opposite side of the stage, her prop weapons looking unlike anything Sendai had carried, but still recognizable as drow in nature.

"Dost thou believe thyself strong enough to end my reign as Lord of Murder?" the woman playing the part of Amelyssan shrieked as she floated into the air, suspended by wires and hanging over the top of Haer'Dalis as the rogue flung himself backward at the slightest point of the actress' finger. "I will not be denied!"

Greywulf chuckled as he sat in the audience, watching Haer'Dalis struggle to rise to his feet, the bard and his cast mates shouting lines that he couldn't quite remember if any of them had actually ever said- 'Your rule is at an end, foul usurper!', 'Nature, take back what you have given!', 'Taste righteous steel, fiend!', and 'Strike the eyes, my animal friend!' They sounded familiar enough to make him wonder… but by the gods, were they all really that chatty in battle?

Imoen leaned over and elbowed him with a chuckle, gesturing at the other actors who were playing her, Minsc, and Jaheira. "You'd think they'd get some folks who actually looked like us, huh? Not that everyone out there can pull off my beauty, of course…"

"Of course." Greywulf barked a laugh, then leaned back and continued to watch as 'Amelyssan' struck them all down one at a time, until only Haer'Dalis stood, raising his wand high into the rafters. Thus far, the play had been rather entertaining, and only slightly exaggerated. The bard had demonstrated admirable restraint in his retelling of their final confrontation at the Throne… and yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that any minute now the other shoe would drop…

"Behold, vile demon!" Haer'Dalis declared, a blinding light shining down upon the tiefling. "You may command the powers of hell in this place, but I do battle with the armies of heaven at my side!"

A swarm of actors dressed in angelic garb and supported by wings and wires flew in from the ceiling, each one descending upon the remaining members of the Five as they all were struck down by the heavenly army that was engulfing the entire stage. A bright light shone from what were either remarkably radiant candles or flare spells- probably the latter- and when the glare dimmed, Greywulf watched as the actors playing Imoen, Sarevok, and then Haer'Dalis himself rose into the air, makeup and new garb surrounding them to give them the look of the divine.

The crowd thundered with applause and the curtains fell, leaving the small but crowded table of Greywulf, Imoen, Jaheira, Minsc and Aerie to shake their heads in disbelief, clapping with the rest of the audience as the lights came back up to reveal the actors taking their bow upon the stage, Haer'Dalis making a point to eye the group and wink at them as he thanked the crowd as a whole- Jaheira leaned in to Greywulf and whispered through a smile- "If he points us out to the rest of the masses here I will strangle him myself."

"How could he? According to him, half of us floated up into the heavens after summoning gods out of nowhere to kill Melissan." Greywulf snickered, gathering his robes and shifting through the mass of people as they began to file out of the theater of the Five Flagons, pushing against the wave until the party made it to the stage itself, Haer'Dalis sharing a laugh with one of his fellow actors heading backstage before noticing the party's arrival- he hopped from the stage with a grin and extended arms, greeting his old companions with sweat shining on his face from the heat of the stage and the roar of the crowds.

"And so my finest tale comes to a close- I can only hope that you were as taken with the re-telling as I was with the witnessing."

Minsc slapped Haer'Dalis' back with enough force to nearly knock the tiefling to the ground- to his credit, he remained unfazed and merely grinned back at Minsc as he glanced with admiration at the faux-dragon that had been constructed on the stage to take the place of Abazigal. "Minsc found your performance very entertaining! And to let the masses know the glory of Minsc and Boo further? Ah, what could be a finer way to spend the evening, eh?"

"Maybe a bit of accuracy in our legends, perhaps?" Greywulf shook his head with a wry smile. "You really think people will buy that I just brought down the entirety of Mount Celestial with a single cry to the heavens?"

"And what should I have told them instead, my raven?" Haer'Dalis grinned easily, turning to gaze upon the throng of people, thinning slowly but surely as they left the last performance of the play for the evening. "That you, Imoen and Sarevok stole parts of the god-power for your own and became demi-gods that nearly broke the rules of divinity, all before returning the power to the source and living the remainder of your lives as mortals?"

"Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous." Aerie chuckled. "It is what happened, though."

"Perhaps… or perhaps it will become an even better line when this version of the story grows stale!" The bard threw his head back and laughed. "Believe me when I tell you, there are few out there who would believe the truth of your tale were I to tell it all in its unfiltered and unblemished glory. They would assume I embellish already, so why not take it a step further and exceed their already unfathomable expectations? 'Tis my duty, nay, my privilege to spread the legends I have been blessed enough to witness. From here in the Prime and beyond, my friends."

"I take that to mean you've decided to go ahead with what you were suggesting last week then? To leave the Prime entirely?" Greywulf asked, finally quelling the unbreakable joviality and cheer of the tiefling, if only for a moment.

"Ah… I cannot lie." Haer'Dalis sighed with a hint of longing. "The Planes call to me as a siren to her prey, and I can no longer resist the lure. I have spent enough years here in these Realms- it is time I returned to Sigil, to the cities of the multiverse. After all, a story such as this one demands to be spread, does it not?"

"When are you planning on leaving?" Aerie asked, adjusting her posture as one of her wings fluttered, leaving a single white feather to fall to the ground at the tips of her leather boots.

The bard, never one to miss a trick, shrugged his shoulders and leaned down to snatch the feather from the ground, smiling gently at Aerie before tucking it behind his head, secured by the leather headband he wore. "In a few days, my dove. I shall need to make arrangements with the rest of the theater here, and arranging transportation will be… interesting. I know a cambion who will be willing to help, he still owes me a favor or two. Raelis Shai will be waiting to receive me on the other end, I think- she sends her warmest regards, by the way. It will be good to see her again… assuming her troupe hasn't been found by Duke Rowan's bounty hunters…"

"You really think that the Duke is still hunting your former troupe after all these years?" Jaheira asked skeptically.

"Haha, my dear ptarmigan, if you knew the Duke you would understand that eight or nine years to us is but a drop in the bucket to him." The bard grinned, patting the twin swords strapped to his sides. "Do not worry for me, oh pointed stifler of muses - I shall survive, even without your constant mothering to keep me safe."

Greywulf rolled his eyes and Jaheira pursed her lips, about to match Haer'Dalis in barbed wit- she shut her mouth and refused to give him the satisfaction. He laughed and placed his hands on his hips, eyes wide in mock surprise. "Did I truly leave you speechless? Or are you simply giving me a pass because you know our ways are parting so soon?"

"If I am giving you a pass it is only because your ego could not sustain another jab, I think." Jaheira glared, though not unkindly. "I am shocked you had not written yourself as the one to deliver the killing blow against Amelyssan. Do not think we failed to notice you leaving yourself out of that whole production, oh stretcher of truths."

Haer'Dalis laughed, but Imoen piped up immediately, folding her arms and cocking her head in curiosity. "She makes a good point though… you were there with us at the Throne- what made you keep yourself out of the play?"

He looked positively shocked that she would even ask the question- the bard shook his head vehemently, clasping his hands together. "No story could ever be about the teller, my dear wildflower! I may break every truth upon my knee and bend the tale till it becomes unrecognizable to those who lived it, but I swear that I shall remain nameless, a silent passenger sworn to bear witness, never to steal the spotlight. 'Tis both the blessing and the curse of the bard."

Haer'Dalis paused, glancing up at the stage, the curtains and the rafters in the basement turned theater of the Five Flagons tavern. He ran his fingers along the stage side, rubbing the dust between his fingertips and then blowing it off with a quick puff. He walked past the group, sauntering slowly, ambling almost, toward the exit that headed back upstairs. The crowd was entirely gone now, only he and the rest of the party yet remained in the theater. The others simply watched as he moved, before finally pausing and turning to face them, a few dozen paces away. He spoke slowly, almost wistfully. "I think… I think I shall miss this place. Not just the tavern- though this building did serve witness to some of my finest work; no… this place. These people and their stories- it shall be more difficult than I can imagine to find a story to compare to this, but what manner of bard would I be were I not to try?"

"You ever find one, I expect to be the first to hear the tale." Greywulf called out to him gently as he turned back to finish his ascent out of the theater completely, only pausing once briefly to glance back at them and toss them a nod and a wink.

"But of course, my dear raven. To quote the immortal Bard, 'The play's the thing,' is it not? My part in your play, my friends, has come to an end. Farewell."

X

The future…

Sigil. The City of Doors, purported center of the multiverse and destination to all who sought exploration beyond their own planes of existence. There was no sky in Sigil, just a light pervading all within the winding, maze-like metropolis that shifted with the hours to create a faux day and night. It was quite alien and unnavigable for those unused to the nature of this labyrinthine dwelling- and yet, for all of its strange and incomprehensible logic, there were still things that tied it down and grounded it like any other city.

Hidden among the numerous twisted structures of the city, a simple tavern door burst open to allow a gust of wind to sing through, followed closely by a blue haired tiefling who bowed low at the chorus of cheers as he made his entrance.

"Ho there, fine patrons! Shall I join your revelry? Yes? Haha, let nobody doubt the hospitality of Sigil's fairest ale-house!" Haer'Dalis called out to the men and women who were seated all throughout the bar, his cry echoed and returned tenfold by the patrons.

He walked through the crowded, ale stained floor, returning nods and thanking those who greeted him in stride- the bar was filled with a wide variety of beings and creatures, far more varied than anything he'd seen back in the Prime. He chuckled at the thought- it would be a fine day when the Copper Coronet played host to cambions, tieflings, githyanki and djinni. He'd seen at least three of each upon his initial entry through the door.

"Oy! Saw your last performance, bard- ye tell a grand tale, but how much of that really happened, aye?"

A cockney voice issued from what appeared to be a half-breed astral sailor- he looked to be half human, but what the other half of his breed was, Haer'Dalis wasn't entirely certain. Possibly bear? Goat? He was certainly hairy enough for it, and his eyes were of some inhuman nature- he let the question go in his mind and merely bowed once in response and replied, "Ah, but that would be telling, now wouldn't it? Suffice it to say that the Tale of the Bhaalspawn was my greatest honor to witness- I consider it my greatest duty now, to tell as many as I may of its splendor! What you decide to believe as truth, my friend… that is up to you!"

The half-breed laughed and raised a mug of ale- Haer'Dalis snatched a mug from a nearby patron's hand and raised it in reply- the two drained their drinks dry and Haer'Dalis returned the mug to the only slightly irritated barfly with a bow and an oh-so-courteous apology before returning to his stroll, navigating his way through the crowds. The man he was supposed to meet had told him he'd be waiting in the back…

"Haer'Dalis! You son of a berk, how long has it been, eh?"

The familiar tones were enough to spin the bard around- he spotted another tiefling with blood red eyes and long red hair moving from behind a pair of floating djinn to embrace him- the two clasped each other's wrists for a moment, taking one another's measure after so many years apart.

"Trevelyan, my dear fellow- it does me well to see your shining face here once more. How long has it been since our paths last crossed?" Haer'Dalis asked as they both slid into seats around a stained wooden bar table. "Ten years? Longer?"

"Too long, bard." Trevelyan snickered, raising a finger to one of the many servers circling the room- a short, squat dwarf strode over, sliding two large mugs of bubbling, dark red liquid to their table as Trevelyan tossed a pair of coins onto the dwarf's tray. "Care to join me for a drink? That is, if your tongue hasn't been burned off or dulled by the swill they serve out there in the Prime. Never could understand what you saw to keep you there for so long…"

Haer'Dalis arched an eyebrow at the challenge- he grabbed the mug in one swift motion and brought it to his lips, pausing only to toss back at his old friend, "My dear friend, you'd understand if you ever spent more than a few days there at a time…"

The two guzzled the frothing liquid and slammed their mugs down nearly simultaneously- the 'alcohol' caused their eyes to burn brightly and their bodies shimmered for a few seconds; the demon blood in their veins ignited, sending claws extending from their fingertips and canine teeth to sharpen and lengthen- but only for a moment. They both returned to as normal a state as tieflings ever came to- both wiped sheens of sweat from their foreheads at the minor transformation before sharing an easy belly laugh that echoed through the raucous tavern.

"Does the body good, doesn't it? Like an explosion in your veins, am I right?" Trevelyan grinned wolfishly, brushing his red locks from his face and behind his green tinted leathers. The man was nearly as dangerous as Haer'Dalis, but it had been ages since they'd last tested their skills in combat against one another- with the way the night was progressing already, it would be almost a certainty to occur, probably within the bar if Haer'Dalis was a betting man. Which he was, naturally.

"I must admit, nothing like it back in the Prime." The bard acquiesced, raising both hands in defeat. "I did not see you at my last performance down the way- I've been returned to Sigil for nearly a year now- I expected to have come across you much sooner, truly."

"Ah, you know the life of our kin…" Trevelyan shrugged, raising his mug for a moment more to lick the last bit of froth from the lip of the mug, his eyes glinting only slightly as the liquid descended his throat. "A Doomguard's work is never done. Though you might disagree, from the time you wasted in the Prime, eh? Not one land brought to its final decay while you were there… tsk tsk, old friend. It's like I hardly know ye…"

"Haha! I would hardly describe it as such- and had you ever bothered to attend one of my performances, you would know how wrong you are." Haer'Dalis scoffed, raising his feet up to rest his boots on one of the chairs around the table, stretching out and resting his head back in his own hands, clasped behind him.

"Attend one of your plays? After your last one got the Duke of Darkwood chasing you across the Planes?" Trevelyan laughed. "No thank you, I welcome Oblivion just the same as you, but I'm not daft."

"No no, daft is getting caught by a mad elvish wizard just so you can read his journal detailing the juicy secrets of him and his vampire sister." Haer'Dalis shook his head and smiled as he stared at the ceiling, imagining the night sky of the Prime spinning above him with the moon and stars in full flight. "I simply know a good story when I see one."

"Truly? Well then, I have all the time in the world tonight. Go on and tell me this story that seems to be dazzling the patrons of the arts here in Sigil. Impress me, old friend." Trevelyan folded his arms and cocked his head to one side, his challenge getting Haer'Dalis to pull himself to an upright position and meet his rapidly intensifying gaze. "I sincerely hope it's more than just distressed damsels and monster slaying. I can find demon hunters and plane walkers who'll recount their entire life stories for just a pint of this fire-ale."

The bard leaned in, a wicked smile crossing his features with each passing moment as he flipped a coin across his knuckles with practiced ease. "You sound skeptical… how about this? You want to usher in Oblivion? You want to know about the greatest agents of Chaos in the Realms, ones so powerful they left two cities annihilated in their wake, and nearly destroyed all of Faerun? Let me tell you the tale of my dear raven and his motley crew…"

X

The present…

The sound of crickets chirping and fish bobbing up and down to disturb the calm of the nearby lake with tiny splashes that sent ripples spreading over its surface were somehow inadequate- it had been, in fact, only several hours ago that the small encampment by the lakeside near Arabel, deep into the lands of Cormyr, had been engulfed in old, familiar battle cries and hissing screeches as bestial as any that the experienced adventurers had heard. Purple blood stained the ground near the lake, and the water had since dissipated the bulk of the blood and ichor spilled within it's all too hidden depths- on the beach surrounding the lake was a massive, leathery-skinned monstrosity of a corpse, large haunches cut off and now sitting over a fire, crackling and burning as they cooked on a spit.

"And to think you wanted to camp elsewhere…" Greywulf teased Jaheira as she rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief as Aerie covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to show her laughter. "Not every night you get roasted water hydra for dinner, right?"

"And I still say we are more the fools for continuing to make our encampment here *after* we slew one of those beasts when it emerged from the watery brine." Jaheira retorted, her long wavy hair still damp from the tumble she'd taken into the water as one of the heads had lashed out to try and ensnare her in its jaws- it had missed, but in recoiling back after Minsc had severed the head from the neck, the wildly snapping limb had slammed Jaheira across the back and sent her tumbling off the shore and into the water. "Admit it… you're hoping another one comes out, aren't you?"

"What do I look like, Minsc?" Greywulf grinned, reaching out to straighten some of the water-logged locks atop her head- she pursed her lips and allowed it, only turning to watch the fire and the slowly cooking haunch of hydra that was suspended over the flame.

Imoen was standing behind Minsc as the ranger continued to hack and chop at one of the hydra's many severed heads, peeling back hydra skin and measuring it out- he frowned as he checked the length, the width- he nodded in satisfaction and raised his axe, severing another portion and setting it aside with a few other pieces. Imoen wrinkled her nose, looking at his work- though whether it was the sight bothering her or the admittedly water-logged smell, it was hard to say. Finally she spoke up, bending around the ranger to catch his eye. "Whatcha doin? Not sure how well that stuff is going to hold up as armor, I think- maybe some leathers, but that's not usually your style, you know? Now if it were dragon scale, I'd understand…"

Minsc smiled, chuckling to himself as he nodded in agreement. Still, he continued his hard work, peeling another strip of hydra hide until he had enough- he held them up in satisfaction and turned to Imoen, exhaling loudly. "These will make a fine cloak… the creature must keep its warmth well in this cold water. It will take some time to dry and then tan properly, but Minsc has the skill to do so, even on the road."

"And do you intend to sew them yourself as well?" Aerie called, a knowing yet bemused glance tossed Minsc's way as he blushed, coughing gently as Greywulf and Jaheira both laughed- the last time the ranger had attempted sewing, things had ended… poorly. The off-kilter leggings that Minsc wore underneath his armor, one leg decidedly shorter than the other, spoke to that. The ranger shrugged and moved to join the others around the campfire, sitting on a portion of log that served as his and Aerie's seating- Imoen took her own seat between the two pairs, reaching her hands out to warm herself with the flickering flames.

The smell of the roast beast was growing more and more appetizing, though it would still be some time before it was ready for consumption- Imoen felt her stomach grumble a bit at the prospect of further waiting and she sighed, resting her chin in one palm. She glanced up at Minsc, the ranger wincing as he stretched his arms, leaning over and downward to work out what was apparently a kink in his back- she caught his eye and shot him a teasing smile- "What's the matter, big guy? Feeling that last one a bit more than usual? It's not the first giant lizard that you've had to crawl up the back of, huh?"

The others laughed, Greywulf piping up as he stroked the sandy brown beard on his face, "You know, I seem to remember the first time I watched you pull that crazy stunt… it was… wait a minute, don't tell me… back outside of Fort Morninglord, right? Down in the Werewoods…"

"That's right!" Imoen nodded with eager memory. "How long had we known him then, two, three months? At most? Aerie, you've got to hear this one…"

Minsc smiled gently as he listened to his friends recount a former tale of glory- he heard Aerie's soft chuckles as Greywulf and Imoen took turns narrating the story- Greywulf's timing and Imoen's sound effects bringing the tale to life far better than he could have ever done. Jaheira would pipe in every so often with a quick witticism or comment, her sense of humor as sharp as ever, if more reserved than the others.

The big ranger listened quietly, and let his mind wander- the ache in his back and shoulder was beginning to subside, but it was true… it didn't happen as fast as it used to. The bowl of water sitting at his feet that he'd washed his hands in reflected an image of a man he was beginning to have a hard time recognizing… the scars that represented battles fought, victories won… they were beginning to be joined with lines of age that hadn't been there so many years past. Imoen was far from the child he'd protected back in Nashkel. Greywulf too… how long had it been now? The question was silly, he knew exactly how many years he'd spent at their side. Over ten years now. Eleven years since leaving Rashemen at the end of winter…

As the cries of laughter diminished, the story winding down, Imoen leaned over, looking at Minsc with a hint of concern on her smiling features. "Minsc? You okay there? You're quieter than usual… don't seem like yourself. Usually after we kill something that big you're the first to be celebrating our victory and the last to stop."

"I… I am fine." Minsc paused, then rested his hands on his knees, clearing his throat and gazed at his companions. His family. He continued, forcing a cheer and levity into his voice he did not necessarily feel. "But there is another story I would like to tell, eh? It is a story I have been waiting to tell for some time… of how my journey from Rashemen began. Of how my dajemma started… it is not a story I have ever told any of you. Minsc feels… the time is right. Would you do me the honor of listening?"

His words were more sincere, more serious than anything they'd heard from him in some time- Aerie rested one hand on Minsc's and clasped it between hers- the others nodded and turned their full attention to the big man as his face danced in shadow, illuminated by the flames and floating embers of their campfire.

"It was nearly eleven years ago that I left my homeland…" Minsc began, his memory sending him back in time and into far off, snow covered lands. "The day my dajemma began, I stood before the chiefs of my tribe- those men who had protected and represented the lodges of my homeland. They bade me depart from home and return only when I had proven my manhood. When Minsc had shown to all, beyond any doubt, that he was worthy to join and represent the lodges of our most glorious warriors. Each one bestowed upon me a token of their Lodges- a sign of their trust in my ability and a blessing to help me along my way."

The ranger undid the clasp of the pendant he'd been wearing since the day they met him- it was a ranger totem, but it took the shape of an Ice Dragon, coiled up around a mountain top. "This was the token given to me by the Ice Dragon Berserker Lodge… it meant more to me than all the others- to join their ranks was my dream for so long and I swore it would never leave my sight. These bracers…"

Minsc raised his arms, showing off the fur lined, leather bracers he had been sporting for so long. "They are made from strong hide, and come from the Snow Buffalo Lodge. Heh… some suggested I would be best with them, due to how big Minsc was! They are a prestigious lodge to be sure… but Minsc knew where he was destined to go. My sword… it was a gift from the Iron Tooth lodge. My armor, from the dwarven tribes who live with us in the Stone-breaker lodge. And my witch, Dynaheir… she represented a final lodge- every lodge had witches who would accompany the young men on their journeys. They were the only companionship a man was expected to need on his path… and the only companionship they were expected to have when returning home."

Minsc tucked the pendant back under his tunic and paused… the words and the memories behind them coming faster and faster. "I stood before the greatest of our Chieftains- I knelt before him and took my most solemn of oaths, to bring honor and glory to my kin, to prove my worth to our people and to show the rest of the world the greatness of our tribes. I swore to protect my witch and return her safely… and in time, when we returned, we would bring an accounting of our glories and be judged accordingly."

"I'd say you've acquitted yourself quite well." Greywulf spoke softly, nodding quietly with approval.

"And yet… that was not all that was demanded of me by my tribesmen." Minsc swallowed, his heart beginning to race. The moment he'd been pushing back against. Dreading for so long. The moment he knew was as inevitable as the tides- he spoke, the words harder to say than any hydra or demon had been to fight. "I spoke my oath… I swore to my people, that I would bring glory or die. That I would bring our people pride, or perish. That I would prove myself worthy in the time it takes for a boy to become a man… I have become that man."

"Heh… no offense Minsc, but I think you've been a man for quite some time now." Imoen joked, but a flicker of worry was beginning to show behind her smiling features. "What are you talking about?"

The ranger looked down between his feet, into his reflection in the water there once more. Gods, he looked so much older than he'd been when leaving Rashemen. The smooth face, the crisp energy- it had been replaced with experience, scars… age. He spoke without looking up, his voice like gravel. "In my tribe, one has twelve years to prove their manhood. If they cannot do so, if they cannot be the man the tribe needs them to be by then… their dajemma is a failure. They need never return. And I… I…"

"You said it had been eleven years since you left your home." Greywulf spoke quietly, realization filling him as he felt the blood rush from his face, leaving him strangely cold in the night air. "How far is your home? Where is Rashemen from here, Minsc?"

"It is a long trek. Nearly a year. It will be more difficult to reach as winter sets in… that will be in nearly three months." The ranger smiled, his eyes beginning to glimmer as he looked up at his family for the past decade. "Boo and I have been at your side for so very long… but Minsc made a promise. A promise to his people that must be fulfilled. They will have forgotten me by now- no man returns so late from their dajemma… it is young men who come back to the lodges, not those like me."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Imoen cried out, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back the swell of emotion inside her. "We could've headed back years ago, all of us… we still can!"

"The journey from Rashemen is undertaken by a man and his witch… the return home is undertaken by the same. There can be nobody else… a man leaves and returns only with what he left. By his tales, and by his scars, and by the sound of his glory will he be judged." Minsc shook his head sadly, doing his best to keep a smile on his face as he gazed into the eyes of the ones he cared about so much.

"You knew this day would come… you had to have known." Jaheira whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "The years have passed and you tell us of your impending departure now… Minsc, why?"

He looked miserable, head bowed and shoulders arched as Aerie placed one hand on his back, the ranger's words quiet and barely audible. "There was… there was never a good time to say goodbye. And the longer Minsc stayed… the harder it became to say at all. I did not want you to know; if I had died at your sides… if I had met an end here with all of you, it would not have mattered. I waited as long as I could, so you would not have to bear this thought, this burden. It was mine to bear alone… until now."

"When… when are you leaving?" Greywulf asked, trying to find the words to the man who'd been his constant companion, his stalwart and brother in spirit for the past decade.

"Tomorrow morning."

There it was… his words echoed like the ripples in the lake, and nobody seemed to know how to respond- it was Imoen who finally broke the silence, sniffing tearfully as she stood up and walked over to Minsc, the big ranger standing to look down upon her and embrace her as she leaned in to him. "So that's it? This is… this is goodbye then?"

"Oh Imoen… do not cry." Minsc wiped a tear from her cheek and tried to smile, his familiar cheer making her forget her sorrow, if only for a second. "You are so small, yet so strong… do not weep for my departure. We will share one last meal, one last celebration here, tonight. We will feast in the memory of our times together, and celebrate the place we share in one another's hearts. And tomorrow will part us… but that is tomorrow."

Aerie stood, and as Imoen let go of Minsc, the Avariel fixed gazes with Minsc, her large blue eyes as determined as he had ever seen them. He looked stricken, as though expecting him to decry his choice to leave, his decision to wait until there could be no further delay to tell them all- no… that wasn't what she was going to say at all. He could see it in her eyes, and he began to shake his head, speaking before she could open her mouth. "Aerie… I will never ask you to join me on this road. Your place is here, with the rest of our family."

"You said the return is for a man and his witch." Aerie replied, her voice only trembling slightly as she refused to back down, pale skin glimmering like porcelain in the campfire's light. "Am I not your witch?"

"You are, but…" Minsc began- he did not get the chance to finish.

Aerie's wings billowed out behind her and she flew into the air, hovering until she was at eye level with her ranger, wrapping her hands around the back of his head and leaning until their foreheads were touching, her blonde hair nestled against his face as she whispered, "Then I am with you. All the way to Rashemen, I swear I will not leave your side."

He closed his eyes and held her tightly, then let her descend to the ground before turning to the others, opening his mouth to apologize further- Jaheira walked to the ranger and shook her head. "No need… regrets are something we must all learn to live without. It has taken me longer than most to realize that."

"Thank you… for everything you taught me." Minsc bowed to his druid friend, showing more dignity and solemnity in this one moment together then he'd given evidence of their last ten years. "The path of the berserker is one I was well used to upon leaving my home… you and Khalid taught me much of being a warrior as well."

Jaheira bowed in reply- "May nature always guide your path- may her embrace ever be a comfort and guide in your travels. Whatever you find at the end of your road home… the man you have become is a worthy one. Remember that."

Imoen walked to Aerie and hugged her, resting her chin on Aerie's shoulder as she tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears.

"Ow…"

Imoen glanced at Aerie, the Avariel's own emotions getting the best of her as Imoen looked at her with a questioning gaze, despite the sorrow that filled them both. "Huh?"

"Your chin is digging into my shoulder." Aerie said between sniffs. "It hurts."

Imoen barked a laugh and wrapped herself around the Avariel as the small joke broke some of the sorrow engulfing them both. The thief-mage replied with only a small hint of pouting, "Fine, then I'll just cry into your robes and get tears and snot and all that junk on it instead…"

Aerie shoved Imoen off playfully and the two girls laughed again- it passed quickly and Imoen took hold of Aerie's hands wistfully, biting her lip as she tried to think of what to say. "I'm going to miss you so much… who am I going to talk with about Greywulf behind his back now? I'm going to be lost without you, you know?"

"This isn't goodbye, not forever." Aerie shook her head defiantly. "I promise."

Imoen nodded, apparently satisfied, if only for the moment- after embracing one last time, Greywulf approached, smiling weakly, gently as he put one arm around Aerie's shoulders, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have to admit… I didn't think you'd really leave."

"What, didn't think I could cut it on my own?" Aerie laughed teasingly, pushing Greywulf off of her playfully as she tried to bury some of the raw emotion bubbling at the surface of all of them.

His laughter joined hers- as it died down, he shook his head, searching for the words to say. "No, it's just that… you've been with us through so much. You're family to me, just as much as Jaheira and Imoen and Minsc. They were with me from the beginning… and I count you just as close as them."

"I know…" Aerie's words were quiet, sincere. "I understand how special all of them are to you. I know it must feel like I'm taking one of them away…"

He shook his head, waving the thought off. "Just… just watch out for him, okay? Keep him safe."

"Isn't that his job?" Aerie asked with a smile.

He chuckled and turned back to the campfire along with the rest of the group, their family seating themselves back around the flames as Minsc reached out to cut slices of the cooked beast off the spit and hand it to each one of them in turn, sharing a meal together just as they'd done for so very long. "Aerie, I think you stopped needing someone to watch out for you a long time ago."

Songs and stories faded into the night as the moon rose and smoke wisped into the skies, their voices and laughs echoing through the camp for one last night together.

X

The future…

Gusts of snow and wind swirled around the two figures as they trekked upward, always upward. Any tracks they would have left behind were long since covered, obscured by the blizzard that whirled and swept the lands all around them. Or at least, it felt like a blizzard to one of them. Aerie wrapped the cloak she was wearing tighter around her to protect from the snowy conditions- Minsc barreled through the elements without any seeming discomfort- according to him, this was simply a mild dusting. Truth be told, there were times when they'd been in the dead of winter making this trek and she had felt certain they would meet their end. It was only through Minsc's skills as a ranger and her own abilities to generate fire and other sources of heat they'd even made it through alive.

They'd been traveling for nearly ten months now since leaving Greywulf, Imoen and Jaheira. They'd headed north, then eastward, then north again, leaving behind grassy plains for forests, then forests for hills, and finally mountains and snow, as far as the eye could see. Aerie fluttered her wings a bit under the cloak that concealed them from the harsh snowstorm- flecks of white scattered off the cloak, abandoned in the midst of the mountaintop and joined to the rest of the ever-present snow.

She squinted to look at Minsc through the blizzard- she'd long since stopped asking him how much further their trek would lead. For one thing, it made her sound as though she didn't trust him or his guidance- had that been the case, she wouldn't have gone with him and left the others behind so many months ago. That wasn't it at all. There was nobody on earth that she trusted or cared for more than Minsc. Their relationship of protector and witch- those lines had been blurred and reformed into something far different long ago. She glanced up at him and saw his gaze lift upwards for the first time in hours- something had caught his eye. He paused his movement, and she saw through the winds and snows, and knew what he was looking at. There, upon the mountainside, still far out in the distance- flags flying in the breeze. They knew it had been close- crossing Lake Mulsantir two days ago had been enough sign of that. But to actually see the flags of Minsc's homeland, the signs that he had, finally, come home… Aerie walked to Minsc's side and rested one hand on his arm, finally drawing his attention. He looked down at her and she saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the slight hesitance in his posture. She smiled comfortingly and kept walking, drawing him forward with her.

"What will you do when you get back?" Aerie asked Minsc over the heavy wind and snow, almost shouting to be heard.

"Present myself to our chieftains… move to be judged by their standards and tested to see if I am worthy. It will be a long rite and several days of storytelling before their final judgment is passed-" Minsc began, before Aerie turned back and shook her head with a broad smile.

"I mean after you get accepted into whichever lodge you please." She reassured him, eliciting a weak grin from the ranger as he shook his head, pushing on to her side as they made the climb. "Because you know there's no way they don't accept you, right? You have nothing to worry about Minsc. Nothing at all."

"I wish that I had your courage, Aerie." Minsc paused, halting his advances in the snow as he peered up at the hillside flags, whipping and fluttering in the wind, an invitation to the destiny he'd been pushing back for the past decade, whispering quietly, as much to himself as to her. "There are so many questions… what if they do not find me worthy? What if they ask of Dynaheir and her fate? I have brought my witch with me… but what if it is not enough?"

"How could you have done more, Minsc?" Aerie asked. "Every challenge you've faced has been overcome, every last one. What reason could they possibly have to find you wanting?"

Aerie knew the answer the moment she spoke the question- the one failure Minsc held closer to his heart than any other. The failure that her own presence there magnified a thousand times, even if Minsc himself would never admit it. He wouldn't say the words to her, he'd never willingly put that kind of guilt to her- the look of dread in his eyes said everything. He refused to speak and continued his ascent up the hill. Almost there now… just a few hundred yards to go.

The Avariel following Minsc bit her lip, a habit she'd picked up from Imoen… the elf wished her friends were here now. Here to help reassure their friend, here to support him in one of the biggest moments of his life. Leaving them behind had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do… but it meant that she had only two people to depend on now, Minsc, and herself. Right now, Minsc couldn't lean on himself… for perhaps the first time since she'd met him, she could see the fear in him, the hesitation.

The flags were audible in the wind now- the sound of their cloth flapping in the breeze picked up by her elven ears. She was sure Minsc's well-honed senses could hear them as well- his posture stiffened and he paused for a brief second, as though the sound were his doom. It couldn't be that much further.

She looked at her protector, her companion for so very long. She saw his steps falter, his pace slow. The knee high snow that had barely caused him to break a sweat before was now locking him in place as he tried to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but it was like he was in quicksand. Fear. Fear of failure… that was something she was familiar with. She remembered Greywulf and Minsc holding her as she cried her eyes out in the streets of Athkatla, certain that she'd never measure up to the life she'd chosen, ready to run back to Uncle Quayle in the circus. She remembered the arguments she'd had with Jaheira, where she finally stood up to the woman she'd been too afraid to even make eye contact with for so long, earning the druid's respect and friendship at last. She remembered seeing Imoen petrified of what the taint of Bhaal could turn her into…and helping her overcome that terror, that Laughing Death in the end.

Fear had nearly claimed her. It had tried to claim others… as she saw Minsc grind to a halt, unable to take another step as he sank to his knees in the snow, she made her decision. Fear would not claim Minsc. She undid her cloak and allowed her wings to stretch fully- taking a brief moment to let them adjust to the icy chill, she blasted out of the snow and into the air, letting her flight take her into Minsc's view as she alighted atop the snowy drift before him.

She reached out and raised his chin, forcing him to look at her- their eyes met and Aerie willed all the confidence, all the strength she had drawn from him and Greywulf and Imoen and all the others for so long, flow from her back to him. She willed him to feel just how strong and noble she knew him to be- she willed him to stand and fight, one more time. Her words were low, quiet, yet every one perfectly audible to the man. "I am more than your witch, Minsc. If you wish it, I will be more than your friend. I will be your defender. I will tell of every deed you've performed since the day I met you… of the battles nobody else could've survived. Of the legend you forged from Baldur's Gate to Saradush. You have only one thing left to do… stand. Stand and prove yourself worthy of my devotion. Prove that you are still the man that swore to protect me nine years ago. The man… t-the man I fell in love with."

Aerie heard herself stammer, a long since conquered nervous tic returning in that brief moment. She felt herself blushing furiously despite the chill- the words she'd spoken were not something either of them had ever let slip aloud. They'd never needed to- for years the knowledge of how both of them felt had been enough- Aerie understood enough of the culture of the witches in Rashemen to know that a relationship between a man on his dajemma and his charge was strictly frowned upon. And yet… here, at the end of his journey, she wanted- needed- him to understand that no matter what those who had sent him into the world thought of him now… she knew who Minsc was. She knew what kind of man was returning home today. She knew the hero he'd become… and if they couldn't see it, then they were more the fools for it. Without another word, Aerie extended her hand.

Minsc stared at it, as though entranced- he looked back up to her eyes and smiled broadly- she felt him grasp it tightly, erupting out of the snow around him like a giant.

At the borders of the Rashemani village, the massive oak poles that the flags and banners were tied to swayed and creaked in the gusting snowstorm. The furred and armored guard who stood watch at the outer gates narrowed his eyes as the winds picked up again- the shamans of the village spoke of a mighty force descending upon the region today- whether it was the wind or something else, they could not clarify… and yet, as two figures began to pierce the veil of snow, the guardsman felt something in his belly tighten. He snugged the boarskin helmet he was wearing down tighter, grasped his large blade in its sheath and took a step forward, shouting to the pair, just beginning to come into view. "Ho there, travelers! State your business!"

A voice echoed back- the guardsman felt his entire body quake at the sound. "I… I am Minsc, son of Rashemen! I have returned from my dajemma, and I will be heard this day! My time of judgment is at hand- if any memory of me still lies within my home, then allow me to enter!"

The guardsman bolted from his post- he found the massive bell that sat along the guard towers on the walls surrounding the village- he grasped the rope that connected to the bell and yanked on it once, twice, three times.

Minsc and Aerie watched as the man vanished inside the now visible walls of the village, then heard the bell sound. Aerie glanced up at Minsc and asked quietly, "What does that mean? The bell… is that a good sign?"

The ranger squinted into the wind, trying to make out what was happening in the village beyond- he shook his head, unsure. "I do not know. It is not a custom Minsc ever saw when watching other warriors return from their dajemmas. Boo shivers in my hand though- he will welcome a warm hearth and food after our journey… but until we have been welcomed in, I dare not step foot inside my old home-"

He did not get the chance to say more, for out from the village came a sight that took the pair's breath away. Seven chieftains, flanked by dozens of other Rashemani warriors. Banners were held high by young boys and girls. Men, women, berserkers, rangers, warriors and witches. It was only when they drew closer that the sigil emblazoned on the banners could be seen fully- it was a likeness of a sword clenched in a fist… and a hamster, resting on the wrist.

All those marching under that banner had familiar, purple tattoos upon their heads- and as the import of what they were seeing finally hit home, one of the old chieftains approached Minsc. He looked up into the large warrior's features and then smiled, his wrinkled face filled with contentment and satisfaction. "It… it really is you. I did not believe I would live to see this day- I praise the ancestors to be proven wrong. I sent you from this place as a boy twelve years ago… and now, you return to us as more than a man."

The chieftain bowed low before Minsc while the entirety of the procession followed suit, kneeling before the ranger in awe. "You return as a legend."

X

The present…

The sound of wood splintering filled the office of one Ferathen Kestor, the leader of the Iron Throne branch located in Waterdeep. Rather, the only leader of the Iron Throne. At least, the only one still living. There had been at least six or seven of them who'd acted as a council of sorts after the head of the Throne, Rieltar Anchev, had met his end so many years prior. Rather than entrusting the rule of the entire business to a single entity again, those who headed up local interests in other parts of Faerun had split power amongst them all, theorizing that nobody would grow too strong and all could profit equally. Sure, there were power struggles from time to time, issues of borders and profit margins and the like, but they had made the best out of a bad situation. This situation, however… was definitively worse than simply 'bad.'

Ferathen's back was to the door as light burst into the room along with the remains of the barred and locked wooden portal- the man stiffened as he heard heavy, armored footsteps pace into the large office, stepping from the fine wood paneling onto the silk carpeting that adorned his office. Spoils of his station, he liked to call it. Spoils that could have been much more lucrative if he hadn't been forced to split them with six others. It was rather ironic, in hindsight. How many years had he been planning the deaths or betrayals of the other Iron Throne leaders, only for him to end up the final victim of this monster's killing spree?

"I assume you know why I am here."

The deep tones elicited a shiver from Ferathen despite himself, despite the vow he'd taken to face this end with dignity, if it was to be so. The fact that Sarevok was standing behind him now, meant nothing else. He inhaled sharply and turned around, looking into the glowing yellow eyes of his soon-to-be-killer, pinpricks in the dark room. He nodded and moved to the chair that was scooted back just a touch from the large mahogany desk that he did the majority of his work from. He took a seat and slid the chair in, clasping his fingers looking over the top of them at Sarevok. "I don't suppose there's any talking you out of this, is there… I'm certain begging won't help either. That worm Kiethan would've tried already, I presume."

Sarevok merely grinned and strode from the shattered doorframe toward Ferathen's location, giving the center of the room a wide berth. Ferathen chuckled, knowing exactly what Sarevok was expecting- some kind of trap, or a mechanism to go off as soon as he was in position. Clever, and something he was certain one of the others had come up with as soon as they understood just who was hunting them throughout the Realms. "You don't seem particularly surprised to see me."

Ferathen glanced out the newly open portal- his four bodyguards could be seen lying in the hall leading to his office- large red streaks lined the walls, and a pool was forming by their bodies. Looking down, he could see the bloody footprints that Sarevok had tracked in, walking through his men. "No… it only took two deaths for the rest of us to deduce that someone was killing the remaining leaders of the Iron Throne. After you left a survivor at your third kill, we found out who was stalking us. The Butcher of the Gate himself… Sarevok, reborn."

"I'm flattered. If you know who I am… then you know *why* I've come as well." Sarevok's voice went low, gravely, like a razor blade stuck in his throat as the malice that the Deathbringer felt made itself audible in Ferathen's ears. "Did you think you could hide forever?"

"Not at all." The last voice of the Iron Throne picked up a glass on his desk and swallowed the amber liquid inside, letting it burn all the way down. He watched Sarevok track past the center of the room, then slowly stalk toward his chair, coming all the way to Ferathen's side with a dark smile. "Hiding didn't help any of the others. Neither did running… how far did you chase Lady Dellathor? All the way to Yuirwood, wasn't it? Thought she could enlist some help from Wizard's Reach to stop you… waste of time in the end, wasn't it?"

"Hnh." Sarevok grunted, testing the weight of his blade as he lifted it deliberately, slowly- he was letting Ferathen see it coming, letting him watch his end fall down upon him like a man ascending the gallows as he stared at the noose. "When you gave the order to kill Tamoko, did you ever imagine it coming back to haunt you like this? I asked the same question to all of the others…"

Ferathen shrugged quietly, trying to avoid showing any fear, any sign of weakness. "And what did they say?"

"Some of them, nothing." Sarevok mused as he held his sword out, letting it rest on Ferathen's neck, the cold steel of the sword numbing his body as a drop of blood ran from the sword down his back. "They were too paralyzed by fear to move a muscle when I gutted them. Others cursed me, tried to fight their way to freedom. One even told me he was sorry for what happened to her. Heh. 'Sorry'. So… what will you tell me here, now? Will you apologize for murdering the woman I loved? Will you try to justify yourself or mollify me with promises of wealth or power? I give you one last chance, something Tamoko never received. Spend your final breath wisely."

He could hear the sound of the sword rising in the darkness, see its glint in the reflection of his glass that he held. Ferathen steeled himself, turning in his chair to crane his neck up to see Sarevok with his sword raised, ready to come down at a moment's notice. He cleared his throat, then spoke. "I will not lie to you about remorse, or beg for my life. You could kill me with a flick of your wrist- offers of wealth and bribery have obviously not appealed to any sense of mercy, so I will offer you the only thing I can imagine my counterparts did not attempt… the truth."

He turned back, looking away from Sarevok completely, staring out the door of his office at the dead men whom he was certain he would be joining in moments. "Tamoko's death was business… nothing more. She and the other associates of Rieltar… and more importantly, *you,* were an embarrassment to the organization. How could we tolerate such a loose end after we were implicated in nearly starting a war with Amn and the Gate? Her death meant no more to us than any other that was killed in your schemes… if we had known you would return, of course we would have spared her. Does that change anything?"

The only sound in the room was Ferathen's quickened breathing, Sarevok remaining as silent as the grave. The blade did not move from its position at Ferathen's neck- he swallowed, accepting his fate. "I imagine not. Is that what you wished to hear? You seek vengeance for her death… you've found it. I ask only that as I have tried my utmost to treat you with respect, you do the same for me and make it quick."

Ferathen closed his eyes and waited for the end- a gauntleted hand grabbed hold of the back of his head and slammed his skull down into the wooden table, smashing Ferathen's nose and leaving a splatter of blood on the desk. Sarevok pulled the groggy, wounded man up and leaned in, roaring in his ear. "RESPECT? For a worm like you?!"

Sarevok yanked Ferathen out of his chair and threw him across the room, the man sprawled out onto the ground. Only now, with the adrenaline and injury-fueled pain flooding his system, did Ferathen abandon all sense of dignity- he tried to scramble to safety, to an escape, but the blade of Chaos swung and Ferathen howled as he felt his left foot tumble from the ankle, severed cleanly with a single cut.

"I made certain that every single one of you maggots suffered as terribly as possible when I found you." Sarevok grinned darkly as he stomped down on the wounded nub of Ferathen's ankle, crushing the already cut bone and muscle beneath his boot, eliciting a howl from his final victim. "Tamoko's death will finally be avenged in full tonight, but I promise you this… it will not be quick. It will not be dignified. I will make you suffer more than any man could hope to bear… and then, once you beg me for death, I may consider granting your request. Let's begin, shall we?"

Outside the mansion of Ferathen Kestor, in the dark and thundering skies, screams echoed from within the house. If one looked closely, they could see blood spattering the windows of the upstairs manor room facing the front of the door. Hours later, as the sun finally began to rise, and the rains continued to pour, Sarevok's form emerged from the front door, walking past the guards he'd slaughtered last night. Blood spattered his armor, hands and face. He paused a few feet from the entrance, glancing upward. The rain would dampen the flame to a point, but it would spread quickly inside, at least at first. He'd prefer it burn longer, but it would do. Sarevok removed a glowing orange potion from his belt and tossed it inside the home- the oil of fiery burning spread quickly upon shattering, quickly consuming the downstairs floor in flame. At the upstairs window, clawing at the window with a broken and bloody stump, the dying form of Ferathen watched Sarevok stalk away from the home, never looking back. He glanced back at the doorway to his office with his one remaining eye- smoke began filling the room, and he knew what was coming. Ferathen let his mangled body relax… it would all be over soon.

X

The future…

"I've heard a lot about you, y'know? Indulge an old treasure hunter before we get down t'business, eh? Is it true what they say?"

Sarevok eyed the old rogue who stood at his citadel throne room, clutching a burlap sack to his chest like it was a child. He glanced at it, then the old man- he sneered and nodded in acquiescence. "Hnh. I doubt half of what you've heard is true, but I'll indulge your curiosity nonetheless. What, pray tell, have you heard?"

"Well, it's no secret you were one of the Bhaalspawn…" the old man smiled, then took a step forward, following the warrior with his eyes as Sarevok moved from his throne in the hall that made up the main chamber in the top floor of the black castle he'd constructed here, in the ruins of what had once been Amkethran. "But after the last o'them fell off the earth, there's been all sorts of tales floating around about ye. Heard tell you went on a bloody spree across the Realms to hunt down all kinds of sorts- then heard you went and took down every bandit living in the Cloakwood Forest!"

"Hmm. Both true, though you'll forgive me if I keep my reasons to myself." Sarevok cocked his head one direction, as he walked to a table where a single candlebra illuminated several cloth bags and a long scroll with ink still drying on it. He raised it and looked over the writing before glancing back at the old man. "Anything else?"

"Well… eh…" the old man's enthusiasm and curiosity were beginning to wane, but he couldn't help himself. "Then you went and organized your own band of mercs… cleared out this whole ruin down here in the desert… captured enough folks to build yourself a citadel in the ruins of this place where the Bhaalspawn all fought! Hard to believe I'm standing in it right now, truth be told…"

"Is there a point to all this?" Sarevok arched an eyebrow as he picked up the bags, hefting them for a moment before taking the scroll along with it and walking back to the old hunter. "I begin to think you don't want your payment."

"Ah… er, no sir, just wondering what you need an old man like me for to find these trinkets for ye. No disrespect intended either… I'd heard legends of your fiery temper, too." The hunter bowed, holding out the burlap sack he'd been holding this whole time as Sarevok exchanged with him, taking the sack and peering inside at the glowing item within.

"Perhaps age and time have simply quieted that temper you heard about…" Sarevok answered with a smile, nodding to the hunter as the man looked at his payment, making sure it was everything he'd been expecting, he nodded in gratitude, then bowed again as Sarevok handed him the scroll too. "Take this. It has locations and names of my men in several regions. If you come across any other artifacts like this, anything at all… contact one of them. They will arrange you to be paid handsomely for information, and if you should bring me one as you have today… the rewards will be quite substantial. As for my reasons… the payment I've meted out should be enough to ensure I receive no further questions. Is that clear?"

"You've been more than generous to me, sir." The hunter grinned and slung the sacks of gold he carried over his back. "I'll certainly keep your offer in mind… and, eh… no questions. Right you are."

Sarevok let the thoughts of how he had come across his latest acquisition drift out of his head as he descended the westernmost tower of his own personal citadel, heading for the basement where only he was permitted entry. He passed the golems that were enchanted to yield only to him, then opened the gates that had but one key- an adamantine forged tool that was unlike any other in the Realms. His was the only one in existence- if lost, it would take weeks to break down the doors.

As he unlocked them, he felt the magical wards strain against him for a moment, then yield to his own essence. It was, perhaps more protection than this room needed. After all, there was, by all rights, nobody left alive who really knew what was down here. Not completely. A certain few, like his money-fueled hunter, knew there were artifacts that the enigmatic former Child of Bhaal was collecting. He might even put the real story together after he found a few more of them. The old man was respectful, and even endearing at times though. Sarevok found himself hoping he didn't get too clever in his own deductions- it'd be a shame for him to bring another few of the deific artifacts to Sarevok, only for the Deathbringer to have to kill him for being too nosy.

He nearly laughed at that- a shame? He was getting soft in his old age- his younger self would've felt no compunctions, no remorse at ending the lives of every man, woman and child who got in the way of his objectives. Now… things were different, if only just barely. The Wars of the Bhaalspawn had ended nearly fifteen years ago and he was pushing his mid-forties. It had taken him this long, but now… now he was his own man, making his own destiny. A destiny that was close to coming to fruition…

As Sarevok reached a final portal, glowing blue in the torch-lit halls underneath his citadel, he removed a small glowing gem from a pouch on his belt, and held it up to the portal- it glowed red, and the portal followed suit. He stepped into the magical vortex and re-emerged into a long, dimly lit hall buried miles beneath the earth's surface. It was like being in an Imprisonment spell… only instead of a small box designed to drive the inhabitant mad, it was a massive chamber that Sarevok had constructed with some very helpful- if coerced- wizards nearly five years ago. The design specifications had been very… exact. It was his own private sanctuary… a place where he could build that destiny he'd bragged to Greywulf about so long ago. He thought about his brother, every so often. Wondering if the man had found the peace, the 'normal life' he'd dreamt of.

Sarevok paused as he finally reached the empty pedestal he'd been searching for, removing the item from the sack he'd been given by the hunter. It was a broken, cracked orb- green energy still sparked and sizzled at the edges of it, and it burned if he held onto it for too long- the Deathbringer carefully rested it on the pedestal, and the magic of the stand took hold, suspending the orb in midair and sustaining its power within. Sarevok looked on it with satisfaction- the All-Seeing Eye of Helm… an artifact of the Helmites that had been designed to scry anything, anywhere, at any time. An artifact lost in one of a dozen pointless battles with the followers of Talos. An artifact that still contained the slightest hints of divine energy within.

Sarevok surveyed the hall of pedestals, and the items that were presented there- a staff containing some of Mystra's essence, wielded by one of her Chosen. A broken rod that had once held the power of Amaunator- shattered at the hands of the paladin Keldorn Firecam. The jawbone of a skull talisman that was once imbued with Kelemvor's essence. The birthing eggs of the dark slime god Ghaunadaur. Crystalized tears of Ilmater. The Sword of Chaos, wielded by Sarevok himself for years.

All artifacts that had one thing in common- each one held the barest essence of a god within. Those who understood the true nature of the artifacts he'd collected had, of course, questioned him upon his retrieval of the items. Those treasure hunters and archaeologists he'd hired who weren't cowed by his fearsome reputation… his answer had been the same to each one. It'd be the same answer he'd give if his brother or sister ever came calling… a possibility that he considered every day, if he was being honest. The search for divinity as a Bhaalspawn had consumed his life completely- he'd be damned if anyone else suffered the same fate. Nobody else would be consumed by the gods that left their scattered remains on the mortal planes. If he was to be denied divinity, then nobody would have it. Life as a mortal was good enough for him… so long as he made certain that everybody else was condemned to the same fate.

Sarevok walked out of the chamber and returned to his citadel, listening as the safeguards he'd put in place locked themselves and his guardians returned to their posts. Upon reaching his throne room, he sat down in the large hall, before laughing aloud. It was a good story, and the conceit of his unwillingness to let anyone best him in the hunt for divinity was selfish enough that Greywulf would almost certainly buy it. It was, of course, also a complete fabrication.

He only needed a few more artifacts… destroying them all at the same time, within the ritual circles that his wizards would create to bind the power and fuse it… the loosed god-essences would form something different. Something special. A piece of a soul that held the power of a dozen different gods. And when that soul was bound to his own… Sarevok smiled darkly. He'd create a destiny of his own, as promised. He hadn't lied to Greywulf completely.

X

The present…

The sound of floorboards creaking as Imoen paced her room drew the woman's attention- she glanced behind her at the closed door of her bedroom- no signs of anyone else stirring in the rest of the house. Good. The creaky floor was probably the least of her worries, if she were honest. It had been hard enough for anyone to sleep lately, but that was for an entirely different reason.

Imoen continued her paces, searching through her room and making sure she'd gathered everything she wanted… her adventuring pack was full of potions and supplies she'd been smuggling to her room each day for the past couple of weeks, and her quiver was full of arrows. She wiped the sweat from her brow and noticed her hand was trembling- she frowned and tried to steady herself, forcing herself to believe the lie that this would be simple. For the best. That they'd understand.

She made one final search- that was it. Everything she needed to hit the road again was on her back- the black leather armor with elven splint mail underneath, a black cloak with a dark purple lining to cover her head and provide some measure of protection from inclement weather- the enchanted short sword she still carried from their adventuring days in Amn, and the bow of Gesen, an artifact she'd managed to craft a few years ago after finding the last piece of it.

The time had finally come- how many years had she thought about this moment, wondering when she'd finally work up the nerve to do it, to make this decision? Too long. She'd dragged it out far beyond what she should've… and not once had he pushed her. Not once had he forced this upon her… this, tonight, was her choice. But she owed him an explanation. Of all people, she owed him that much. Imoen removed a long piece of parchment from the scroll case hanging on her belt and laid it out gently on the desk that was tucked in the corner of her tidied room; even the normally mussed bed was made neatly.

Imoen slipped out of her bedroom and into the hallway- still no sounds from the room down the hall, its door closed. She smiled sadly- good. No young cries pierced the night- even Gaerorin was being cooperative tonight, it seemed. She crept down the hall and into the small bedroom where Greywulf and Jaheira's infant son slept in his crib- she barely made a sound as she slipped inside, peering down at her nephew, his small body tucked under a blanket stitched from deer hide- she desperately wanted to reach down and hold him one more time, kiss him goodbye and whisper her love to the young boy, but she couldn't risk him waking up and alerting his parents. Instead, Imoen whispered a simple goodbye and then slipped back out of the room, closing the door without a sound.

Imoen passed out of the halls and into the main living room of the cabin that had been her home for the past few years… it was decorated far more elaborately than she would have expected from Jaheira, though Greywulf always had a bit of sentimental streak to him. Not as many trophies as she really would have thought, but there was still a few displayed items and mounted heads that made her smile when she looked at them. She let her fingers drift over the boar skin blankets on the couch in the middle of the room while she considered the chromatic drake scales that were mounted on a single plaque, forming a seven sided star. The elemental creatures were so prevalent in the forests of the Wealdath- they'd nearly burned down their cabin here in the woods more than once, though a hunting expedition between the three of them had taught the beasts to steer clear rather quickly.

Imoen turned away from the scales and walked over to the large oak table that they'd all shared a meal together at for so long… not that the table had always been so cooperative for them. A possessed grand oak that was indwelt with the spirit of a demon had rampaged through Tethyr's northern borders for some time until Jaheira had sought it out and expelled the demon with druid magics, allowing Greywulf and Imoen to combine their might and destroy the spirit for good. To ensure that no other wandering spirit took advantage of the twisted growth, they made something good of it, in the end. She chuckled softly, remembering the battle- Greywulf, ensnared in the giant tree's thorny grasp while Imoen tried desperately to climb the thing and reach its head to put an arrow of fire in its eye. Just like climbing trees in Candlekeep, back in the day.

The thought of her old home sobered her- here she was, leaving her new home. Imoen turned from the dining room and returned to the main living quarters, looking up at the gleaming form of the Impaler, mounted above the doorframe of the house itself. The magic of the enchanted spear was nearly palpable as she drew close to it- it would probably disgust some adventurers to see such a powerful weapon sitting as decoration for a quiet cabin in the middle of the woods, but as Jaheira had remarked wryly upon putting it in its current resting place, 'Better for it to be easily accessible in an emergency, no?' She hadn't needed to call on the spear's magical power for some time now… not that any of them had needed to use their long-honed skills for nearly a year now. And that was just it, wasn't it? Being honest… that was part of why she was finally leaving.

Imoen paused, staring at the mirror that was hanging beside the door itself. She looked at herself, staring into the reflection of the girl who looked back. She wasn't quite the same woman who had once counseled herself in the Pocket Planer of Bhaal. The future Imoen who'd been sent back in time to give her guidance, to give her insight into the nature of the multiverse… her hair wasn't turned gray yet, and she was still in her late thirties, still in the prime of her life… and the life she longed to live was, somehow, no longer the one that she could find at Greywulf's side.

Imoen swallowed the last remnants of doubt she felt and opened the door, stepping outside into the darkness. It was still very early- the sun would not be up for several hours. Assuming that the cries of her adorable nephew didn't bring her parents running, she doubted that either of the two would notice her departure until she was gone. And then… and then it would be too late for any of them to do a thing about it.

The note that she'd left… she hoped it would be enough, even as she knew it wouldn't be. They'd understand… she knew them well enough to know that if she had told them this very morning of her plans, they'd have sent her on her way with all the love they had to give. And she'd never have been able to leave, never able to make that tearful goodbye a reality when facing them… this was the only way. Imoen frowned, feeling her eyes begin to water- she stalked into the woods hurriedly, forcing herself to not look back.

Greywulf, Jaheira…

Goodbye. I'm so sorry to have to leave this way… it isn't how I wanted it. It's not how any of us pictured it, I'm guessing. Always thought it would be some kinda grand thing, you know? Should've known it would come to this though. Nothing lasts forever. It was hard, to see the others leave… Anomen, then Solaufein and Viconia. Haer'Dalis. Minsc. Aerie. It's like our family just kept shrinking, until it was just the three of us. Just us, and then… and then you two made it four again! I'm so happy for you both, and I can't say how much I'm thankful for getting to see Gaerorin come into this world(I still think Gorion Jr. would've been a better name, by the way)

But as we made a new life here, settled down and found peace for once in this hectic mess of our lives… I realized that it wasn't something I was ready for. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for it, to be honest. I've still got too much wanderlust. I still need to see what's over the next hill, what's beyond the horizon… I hope you don't think me too selfish for saying it. But I can't stay here. As much as I love you both, I can't do this to you. You two are my family, no matter what happens… but you both have a life to live, and a new family to raise. The life you two are building is beautiful, and you would have shared it with me forever… but it's not my life. I have to find that life for myself. I know that you'd never have asked me to leave… you both loved me too much, but it has to be this way. I've dreaded writing this letter for so long…

I'm rambling now. I hate it when I do that and then realize I'm doing it. Listen, both of you… you could find me if you really wanted to. I know that much. Please don't. At least… not for a while, okay? If you do, I don't know if I could leave again. When I'm ready, when I know we've all had the time to live our own lives, when I know I can stand on my own… I'll come back. Little Gaerorin will get to know his auntie, we'll have a few drinks and share some laughs. I promise I'll be back.

Jaheira, you've been a mother to me for so long… and now you have a real son who needs your full attention. Raise him like you did me and he'll be just fine. I know it.

Greywulf- we made a promise, remember? You and me, all the way to the end. This isn't the end. Not even close.

I love you both.

-Imoen

X

The future…

"Many have heard the legends about the Wars of the Bhaalspawn; few still live who can speak of the trials and tribulations that took place in those dark times, and fewer still who were at the central of it all. And yet, I, Volothamp Geddarm, had the opportunity to do just that when I interviewed one of the last three Bhaalspawn who still walk the realms of Faerun. Imoen of Candlekeep, the eternal child and archmage extraordinaire, took some time from her continuing adventures to sit down with me and answer a few questions for you, my devoted readers."

V: It is a pleasure to meet you once more, my dear. It has been far too long since we last met. Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me-

I: You're not going to try and pass this off like I agreed to meet with you for a scheduled interview, are you? You're going to let your readers know you just happened to find me sitting in a tavern and interrupted my drink, right?

V: Er… of course. My readers get nothing but the divine truth, I'm sure you know-

I: Heh, I know well enough, Volo. I've read your stories about me and my brother. And I've had tea with Elminster, who just loves talking about his encounters with you, y'know? Just keep things mostly accurate and we'll get along just fine.

V: Well then, the world wants to know, my dear- what have you been doing since striking out on your own? Your most famous adventure was certainly defeating the wicked Amelyssan, but that was nearly thirty years hence- surely a woman of your powers and ability has seen something to outshine even that, yes?

I: Two things- one, you forgot to mention beauty. Power, ability, beauty. You hafta put all three together. It's important. Two, you really think that it's easy to top defeating a demigoddess of Murder? Yeesh, like I'd even want to go through something like that again. Nope, I'm all about the adventure, sure… but world-shattering prophecy and destiny and all that rot- I let that stuff pass me up most of the time these days. Most of the time.

V: I can hardly blame you, my dear. Just the other day, I found myself on the run from a rather fervent cult worshipping dragons. I imagine a life as hectic as the one you used to lead lends itself to a certain longing for peace after some time, no?

I: Eh, a little. But heck, if I wanted to settle down, I coulda done that too. Don't get me wrong, there's some comforts that a girl likes to enjoy every now and then, but I don't feel the need to stick my nose into every ruckus that heads my way. A dragon cult, huh? Greywulf told me about a beholder cult in Athkatla once… what's with folks and worshiping giant things that want to eat them?

V: I cannot say, unfortunately. You and your brother are quite the rarified pair- adventurers who seemed to finally find some portion of peace in their lives. It has been many years since heralds sang your deeds in the streets, it seems.

I: Really? Hmm. I'll have to do something about that. Heh, just kidding. Probably. Nah, Greywulf, he and Jaheira really did settle down. They found a place for themselves and grabbed it. Me, I've just… kept a lower profile, that's all. Still keeping busy. That's the trick, you know? You want to know my big secret, Volo? I'll tell ya- boredom. That's what kills me every time. You gotta spice things up a bit, right?

V: And how do you go about doing that?

I: Heh, whatever's the funniest, I always figure. Stole Elminster's staff once, led him on a chase across half the Sword Coast before I gave it back. Even made it into the Thayvian Council's chambers and dyed all them red wizard cloaks pink. Heh. The pink wizards of Thay… *snort* makes me laugh even thinking about it. Hehehehe…

"Here, my dear reader, I should note that while Imoen was still delighting in the memories of her past indulgences, a rather large man burst into the tavern, screaming obscenities not fit for print at our dear lady. He hurled a hatchet across the room and nearly struck me down, had I not been quick on my feet. A second axe aimed for Imoen nearly found its mark as well, but her magical skills had not been left rusty, it seemed. A barrier deflected the weapon, and with nary more than a wink to me and a two-fingered salute, she bounded from the room and out a window in a shower of broken glass as the unnamed man continued to give chase."

Aerie looked up from the parchment detailing Volo's latest interview and glared softly at the woman sitting across from her, snickering into her hand as she finally gave up all sense of propriety and the laughs turned into full on guffaws. "You shoulda seen it Aerie! Volo yelped like a little dog- you know, one of those chirpy ones that the noblewomen carry around and dove for cover- not a single one of those axes came anywhere near him! Lots of fun to mess with though…"

"You are heartless sometimes, you know that?" Aerie laughed as Imoen folded her legs and leaned back in the chair that satin the corner of Aerie and Minsc's mountain hearth. The house was as big as any she'd had the pleasure of staying in for any length of time- bigger than some inns, in fact. Imoen chuckled as she looked upon the massive timbers that had been used to construct it- there was little doubt that the majority of this building had been constructed with the ranger's own two hands.

"So who was he? Looks like Volo goes off on a page long guess about which of your many 'celebrated' enemies may have finally caught up with you after so many years…" Aerie smiled as her eyes traced the remaining script on the paper.

"Oh, the guy who threw the axes?" Imoen snorted, running one hand through her hair, as she kicked her feet up on the footstool. "Heh. I think he was the head of some merc band- the Flaming Swords, or some stupid cliché like that."

"And why was he after you?" Aerie folded her arms, her blonde locks draping her shoulders as she set down the paper and fixed Imoen with an expectant, teasing glare. "You're not going to sit there and tell me you were completely innocent…"

Imoen feigned shock, but couldn't keep a straight face and laughed it off quickly, bounding to her feet with a shrug. "I may have stolen the artifact that he and his crew were going to steal for a particular client. Some noble over in Arabel. Nothing to get so worked up about, honest."

"Imoen…"

"Ok, so maybe I stole into their compound to get their plans for the job. No sense in me doing my own stakeout of the building if they'd already done it, right? And maybe I stole all their stuff when I was there, but hey, they deserved it. You don't just steal the ring of Gaxx and give it to a necromancer because they pay you for it. That leads to undead armies and all kinds of trouble Faerun doesn't need." Imoen argued, even as Aerie glanced down at Imoen's finger.

"Is that it on your hand?"

"Heh… well… I had to keep it safe somewhere, right?"

The two girls shared another laugh, moving to embrace as they looked into each other's features, as though seeing one another for the first time in years. Which, in truth… it was. It was no longer as simple as staring into an elven reflection of herself- Aerie had barely changed in all the years that had passed- her face was smooth, her eyes as shining and blue as the day she'd met her. Imoen's body was no longer the same- magic had sustained her well beyond what any normal person would have shown, and her time spent adventuring had given her the strength of a woman in her prime, but the truth remained that she was nearing her fiftieth birthday. Lines in her face were beginning to show and the bright pink of her hair was starting to dim.

Imoen shook off the thought and smiled wistfully at her old friend. "You haven't changed at all, you know that? Where's Minsc? Off slaying another dragon to mount over the fireplace, I imagine?"

"Hehehe… no, nothing quite so exciting. Besides, I'd be out there with him if that was the case. No, just taking Arveth out hunting… he's grown a lot since you've seen him last. They'll be back later tonight, I expect." Aerie replied, peering out the window at the front of their cabin. "He'll be so excited to see you… it's been far too long. For all of us."

"Yeah, it has… oh, before I forget, Greywulf and Jaheira send their regards." Imoen grinned. "I visited them both about… oh… a year or two ago? Time just seems to fly these days…"

"Apparently." Aerie shook her head wistfully, walking to the window and staring out of it into the bright, snow covered hills of Rashemen. "I haven't seen the others in so long… it's good that at least you've been able to keep up with everyone. I assume Greywulf's forgiven you for leaving like you did?"

Imoen smiled sadly, nodding her head with a sigh. "Yeah… it took a while, and it hurt him, but it was for the best. For both of us, I think."

Silence lingered in the air for the both a while longer- Aerie finally broke it, her smile lighting up the room and Imoen's mood as she clasped her best friend's fingers between her own. "We should get together- I mean, all of us! Bring the old gang back together for one more round. Wouldn't it be something?"

Imoen grinned at the thought. "It would be fun, wouldn't it? Yeah… I think I know where everyone is these days- I bet I could organize something like that. Heh. You're a genius, Aerie, you know that?"

The Avariel laughed, recognizing the girl's half-mocking tone all too well. "Imoen… I've been meaning to ask you this for some time. Out of all of us, you were the one who never settled down. We all found our place, our families, but you… you never wanted to take root. Why?"

The girl did not speak for a moment, instead watching as her breath fogged up the glass on the window in front of her, the only sound that of the fireplace crackling beside them. Finally, she turned her head and smiled sadly, meeting Aerie's gaze. "Lots of reasons, I guess. I wanted to see what was over the next hill. Wanted to find the next big adventure. But in the end… my family is you. And Minsc. And Greywulf, and Jaheira. And now your kids… all of you. I guess I told myself I'd finally settle down when I found a new family, out there on my own."

She turned from the window and embraced Aerie, holding her tightly as she whispered, "I could never find anyone to match any of you, I guess."

X

The future…

In the grove of Letherel, sustained and supported by the powers of the dryad queen Dianya, a small, intimate ceremony took place beneath the Grand Willow tree that stood in the very center of the glade. Dryads sang, their songs echoing all through the borders of the grove, and those travelers who passed by could swear they heard the faint melody of celebration as they made their way through Amn, never knowing what it was they were hearing.

As cherry blossoms filled the air, the couple before Queen Dianya stood tall, hands joined and smiles upon their faces as they took a step that was long overdue. There were no fancy dresses or crowds to witness this event- Greywulf stood in simple gray robes, Jaheira in her traveling leathers, elven dagger still hanging at her belt.

Standing before them was family, the only witnesses they needed or cared to have- Minsc, Imoen, and Aerie. All three grinned as Queen Dianya spoke the rituals and the oaths of tradition- each one recited their own promises to the other, and it was with a simple word that Dianya smiled and placed her hands atop their own as she watched them both retrieve rings and hold them aloft, where one another could see.

"You have shared much together… your lives have been intertwined for many years now, but this commitment, this journey you seek to travel alongside each other- it will not always be an easy one. Your bond lies deeper than the physical- the spiritual bond is something unbreakable, unshifting. It gives you insight into the life you will share- a life I can give you a glimpse of, my own gift to you both."

As Dianya's words echoed, Greywulf and Jaheira felt their own consciousness's merge, becoming one- images flashed before their eyes, places, times and people they did not know intertwined with the familiar, the banal. Their life together in a flash- a son. A daughter. Love. Life. Growing old. Tragedy. Pain. Death. A funeral with these same witnesses, now old and haggard, standing over coffins- and then these same friends gathered together and sharing laughs and love and life. All of this and more was made clear in a single moment, before dissipating like the flower petals in the breeze around them.

Dianya opened her eyes and glanced down at the two before them, only just now returning to a sense of separate identity after her magics released them. "What you have seen may or may not come to pass in your lives. The future is ever shifting, ever changing- for better or worse, your futures will be your own to make should you choose this road together. With what you have seen, answer once more my question, and be united if you will. Will you wed? Will you yet be one?"

A ring slipped onto Jaheira's finger, and another onto Greywulf's as the two of them shared a kiss.

X

The present…

The door to the Copper Coronet burst open, its noise barely measuring a note on the scale of frivolity and levity that filled the air as the party continued their celebration- only Hendak and Bernard noticed the band of six heavily armed mercenaries stride into the tavern, eyes darting back and forth through the room as they took stock of their surroundings, eventually moving to make a beeline for the barkeep.

Bernard glanced over at Aerie and Imoen as the two girls continued their merry flight through the air while Minsc and Anomen and Haer'Dalis dug around behind the bar for some of Hendak's private stock- he cleared his throat and folded his arms as the leader of this band of mercenaries, a tall, balding warrior with scarred features and missing teeth approached and nodded curtly to the barkeep. "Oi… you the owner of this joint?"

"Eh… not the owner, per se, but I do my best to keep it running well enough." Bernard answered gruffly- he was a large man himself, but this warrior dwarfed him in size easily. "What can I get for you? We're a bit full up for rooms this evening, but you're welcome to stay for a pint or two…"

"Not looking for the swill you Amnish call ale in these parts." The mercenary leader grunted as Bernard narrowed his eyes. Insulting his ale… he almost wished these folks would start a fight now. "Heard tell that the last of the Bhaalspawn been spotted coming here on a fair to regular basis. Dunno if you heard, but there's a hefty price on their heads for what they done back down south in the Marching Mountains. Ol' Tethyr lost half an army chasing after em- never send an army to handle a hunter's job, wot I say. You give us an idea where we might be able to find em, hell, if you can help us out should they come here… we might be inclined to share some of that reward. What say ye?"

"Your generosity is astounding, but I'm afraid I must decline." Bernard shook his head, making a distinct point to avoid looking in the direction of any of the party, which was remarkably difficult considering how spread out they were through the room. "I don't know what you heard, but we run a clean tavern here, and there'll be no roughhousing or bounty hunting within its walls. Hendak doesn't cater to no-"

Bernard was cut off as Aerie and Imoen thudded to the ground from their aerial dance, slamming into a table and splintering it completely amidst their giggles and snorts as the song ended. A roar of approval from the crowds drew the attention of the mercenaries, and Bernard's heart sunk as the captain eyed Imoen with an arched eyebrow, studying her features intently.

One of the warriors, a shorter, uni-browed man with sunken cheeks leaned in and spoke slowly, quietly but not so softly that Bernard could not hear, "Aye… that there girl, the one with the winged elf… she looks kind of like the description we were given, dun she? She sure doesn't truck like no murderspawn though…"

"Now see here you folk, I told you once and that's all there is to it." Bernard boomed out, slamming one palm down on the bar table with vehemence. "There's no Bhaalspawn in these parts and you're not welcome to be harassing any of our customers, you understand?"

The mercenary captain turned to exchange a sneer and some choice vulgarities with him- Bernard's face flushed red as he listened to the captain curse him out- not that he'd expected the man to listen. But his shouts were certainly loud… loud enough to let the others know just what was coming their way. He saw Jaheira and Greywulf rise from their stools out of the corner of his eye- he smirked and glared right back at the mercenary shouting in his face. Poor sod didn't know what was coming.

Jaheira rolled her eyes, glancing at the bounty hunters as Greywulf snorted with acceptance. "Think we can head this one off before the violence breaks out?"

"Looking at these men?" she laughed aloud, skepticism heavy in her accent. "I doubt it. You're certainly welcome to try though…"

Even as the mercenary captain pushed away from the bar where Bernard was standing, Greywulf cleared his throat, stepping in front of the group as a whole as Imoen and Aerie climbed to their feet, both girls hearing Bernard's outburst as well. The bar had gone silent all of a sudden- the regulars here knew their party well enough, and it was no mistake that a certain clearing of the tables around Greywulf and the mercenaries was taking place, slowly but surely. "You fellows appear to be looking for someone… last of the Bhaalspawn, right?"

"We are… and you look awfully close to the descriptions we done heard, same as her." The captain's eyes lit up as he sized Greywulf up, folding his arms with satisfaction.

"Well I am Greywulf, true enough… and that is Imoen, as you may have surmised." Greywulf bowed slightly, then gestured to his sister. "Now, that Bhaalspawn part you mention… well, it's a long story, but we're not. Not anymore, at least. I doubt that makes much of a difference, does it?"

"Nay… nay, it doesn't." the captain grinned, picking his teeth with a dagger as the remainder of his crew drew an assortment of weapons and pointed them at the two former god-children, the sight of steel sending any straggling bar patrons scattering as they recognized a sight all too familiar. If the mercenaries were unsettled by how remarkably calm Greywulf and Imoen remained, they did not show it. "Nothing personal, you understand. But that bounty's just waiting to be claimed. You two going to make this easy or hard, eh?"

Greywulf clenched a fist, feeling magic energy build inside himself. He glanced left- back at the table, Solaufein and Viconia were shrouded in shadow, clerical magics flashing in her pupils, Solaufein already moving to circle behind the group.

He glanced to his right- Hendak was going for the short swords he kept under the main bar counter, and Minsc was cracking his knuckles eagerly, sizing up the biggest man among the bounty hunters. Anomen was on the far end of the bar counter behind the mercenaries, his family shield already unfurled from his back as he tightened it to his gauntlet, shaking his head with disbelief.

He glanced behind him- Aerie was beside Imoen, a glowing white light beginning to fill her eyes with power. Jaheira walked up to the clutter and debris from where Aerie and Imoen had landed a few moments ago and picked up a broken stool leg from the floor, hefting the weight and testing its potency as a club.

Imoen rested one hand on Greywulf's shoulder, giving him a wink and a grin. "Looks like I win the bet, huh? Told ya we wouldn't make it through the evening without a fight."

"I'll give you the gold later, if we survive." Greywulf winked back.

"What's this 'if' business?" Imoen laughed, drawing the ire of the mercenaries lined up before them.

"Oi! You think we're messing around, here?" the captain shouted, face turning bright red with anger. "You've got five seconds to give yourselves up and come with us, or we'll gladly take your heads back as proof instead."

Greywulf sighed and shrugged apologetically to Bernard. "Sorry about all this. We'll try not to make too big a mess of the place-"

A battle cry from Minsc caught everyone's attention as the ranger waded into the crowd of mercenaries, giant fists crashing down on helmets and into faces, immediately joined by the rest of the warriors and adventurers, swarming on their would be attackers. As the brawl erupted into full scale battle, Haer'Dalis chuckled lightly. Perched on the edge of the bar, he downed the rest of his ale and wiped the foam from his lips before leaping into battle with a twinkle in his eye and an empty mug in one hand. "So, one more sonnet to echo through the night sky? Hah, why not? Let the adventure continue, my raven!"

THE END

Author's Post Script: Wow. It's finally over- I started Tale of the Bhaalspawn back when I was… 15? 16? All of 27 now, and finishing up the sequel now, after so long tells me I think my time writing has run its course. A huge thanks to everyone who read and especially reviewed over the years- an extra thanks to my Beta reader- you know who you are- for keeping me on track and catching all those mistakes I made before publishing. Have I mentioned I love happy endings? Because I do, and that's what I tried to give here.

My last request of y'all- if you liked it, let me know what you liked by dropping me a line and hey, also tell me how you think I can improve. I'd welcome a final review from all of you- I'm not saying I'll never revisit Faerun with a 3rd story(4th, counting Slow Fade, I suppose)… but I think it's time for a break. If I do decide to write another adventure with Greywulf and the gang, maybe I can write it to completion before publishing it so folks aren't waiting around for six months between updates.

But, as Imoen said, I'm rambling, and I hate it when I ramble. I hope you all enjoyed the ride. Thanks for reading!

-Capt. Incredible