A/N: Apologies for such a long delay, started a new rather demanding job but am finding my writing stride again. For those still reading, I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
It had taken Fallon over an hour to find the temple of Selune. She had to ask around the city and followed the breadcrumbs of clues that led her to the outskirts near Rivington. However, when she approached the location that the city residents had led her to, she began to question whether there really was a temple of Selune.
Nestled discreetly within its surroundings, the temple remained a well-kept secret, veiled in the guise of an ancient stone manor enveloped by an intricately wrought iron fence. As Fallon approached along the road, the manor seemed to carry the weight of forgotten years, yet an ethereal glow emanating from the windows betrayed its concealed vitality.
Upon passing through the imposing gates, Fallon found herself immersed in a tranquil oasis—a garden of hushed serenity. At its heart stood a majestic oak tree, its sprawling branches casting dappled shadows across the sanctuary. The air was laden with a profound stillness, interrupted only by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant whisper of an unseen breeze.
Beneath the swaying branches of the oak tree were two people sitting on a stone bench in contemplative silence. As Fallon followed the dirt path that went by them, she lowered her head and offered a greeting, but one stared forward with unwavering focus while the other idly pushed a rock around with her foot. Fallon noted the simple white tunics they wore and the slippers on their feet.
She followed the path as it bended around the manor and led to a great wooden door with a symbol painted above it- beautiful eyes surrounded by silver stars. The temple of Selune. Fallon pushed the doors open and was welcomed by a sweet lavender smell.
The old, weathered door slammed close behind her, echoing throughout the manor. Had she not been told that it was the temple of Selune, Fallon wouldn't have known it. Large stone archways with intricate patterns etched into them loomed above, as well as a dusty chandelier with once shining jewels. Dim light filtered through beautiful stained glass windows, casting mosaic patterns on the cracked tiles underfoot.
Fallon noted the faded tapestries on the walls- depicting long forgotten tales of whomever once owned the manor. Ahead of her stood the grand staircase, its old wood worn smooth by the countless hands that had graced it. She imagined the kinds of people that must have descended these stairs, and the elegant and extravagant lives they lived. The stairs reminded her briefly of her grandfather- the man who raised her- and the grand stairs of his manor.
A scream ripped the memory away. Fallon bolted up the stairs, cursing herself for not bringing her crossbow. The scream dwindled into wails as Fallon drew nearer. She followed the cries to an open door and stopped in her tracks when she entered the room.
An elderly woman gripped her knees to her chest and rocked on her side, tears and spit leaking from her face. Her wails simmered into gurgling. Next to her, Shadowheart stroked her hair and spoke in a hushed voice.
"Is she in pain?" Fallon asked quietly. Shadowheart looked back at her and gestured for her to enter.
"She'll be ok."
Fallon watched as Shadowheart said a few calming words and gingerly wiped away the tears on the woman's face. Soon the woman was whimpering into the sheets. Shadowheart stood and escorted Fallon out of the room, closing the door behind them.
"She's just been told that her family is dead."
"Will she be ok on her own?" Shadowheart nodded.
"Unfortunately this isn't the first time we've told her. Her children died decades ago. For some reason or another, she forgets this and wakes up with her old memories, blissfully unaware how much time has passed. Then one of us has the horrible task of informing her of the truth. She'll mourn for a while, we take her to the graveyard again and again to show her the headstones. And just when it seems like she might be healing, she forgets again."
"That's horrible."
"It's cruel is what it is," a streak of venom leaked from her voice.
"You think someone… did this to her?" Shadowheart's dark eyes narrowed into a scowl.
"It stinks of Shar. Lost memories of a woman in a Selune temple? Very specific if you ask me."
Shadowheart led Fallon down the long corridor. Left and right were faded portraits of nobles- one man in particular appeared in several- Fallon figured him to be the previous lord of the manor.
"I hope the temple wasn't too difficult to find."
"It's well disguised, let's just say that."
"Well you found it, that's what matters," Shadowheart said as she opened a door, revealing a cosy library. Several individuals sat around a crackling fireplace, all clad in matching white tunics and slippers, mirroring the attire of the people she had seen outside. An Elven man cradled a doll, softly singing a lullaby as the flames cast a warm glow upon him. Nearby, a young human girl, roughly Mol's age, fidgeted by the window, absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger and pulling on it roughly. One side of her head showed signs of thinning. At a small table by the bookshelves, two others engaged in a card game, accompanied by a familiar white-haired woman.
"Isobel!" Everyone but the teenager looked at Fallon as she gave an awkward wave to the other occupants. The Elf smiled, waved and returned to his singing.
"Fallon, you made it!" Isobel stood up and placed her cards on the table, "I'm sorry but can we play later? A very old friend has come to visit," she asked the two other players. They quietly regarded Fallon and Isobel before scooping up the cards and reshuffling them. Isobel gave them both a kiss on the head each before trotting up to Fallon with her beaming smile.
"It's been so long, I'm glad you're back" she said into her ear as they embraced, "let's go downstairs." The three women headed down the staircase that Fallon had previously sprinted up. Isobel led them into a dining room with an oversized chandelier that had lost many of its jewels over the years. A long, once-polished table stretched from one side of the narrow room to the other, with enough seats to fit fourteen people.
"This place once belonged to a wealthy family in Rivington. The lord of the house died here a long time ago and this place just sat forgotten for so long. But it's a temple now and we use it to house those experiencing extreme traumas," Isobel said as she pulled out a seat for Fallon.
"Extreme traumas?" Fallon looked at Shadowheart.
"Insane people," Shadowheart clarified. Fallon saw the bemused look on Isobel's face.
"We don't use that word around here."
"It's true though, they've all gone insane."
"Because of extreme trauma," Isobel chided, "many of the people here are unable to… survive in the world on their own and their families– if they had one– can longer take care of them. So they stay here with us and we try to make their lives as peaceful as possible."
"They can't recover?"
Isobel sighed, "It's unlikely."
"They're good people, very fragile though. If we leave them out there they'll be eaten alive," Shadowheart added.
"Then I'm glad they have Selune's people to care for them," just as Fallon sat down, a rumbling sound reverberated from upstairs. All three turned their heads to the ceiling, craning to hear better. Muffled voices came through the ceiling along with what sounded like the sounds of a struggle.
"The siblings are fighting again," Shadowheart sighed as she stood up, "I'll go calm them down."
As soon as she disappeared out of the dining room, Isobel placed her hands on Fallon's and said with sincerity "I'm really glad you came back, Fallon. But I'm more glad that you're looking so well. When I saw you at the gates that night…"
Fallon had forgotten most about the night that she fled the city. Now the clear image of Isobel's worried eyes peered through the memory fog. Isobel was the last person to see her before Fallon had disappeared.
"You haven't…" Isobel leaned in and whispered, "heard from him?" For a moment Fallon couldn't comprehend what Isobel was trying to decipher. There were quite a few men Fallon was not eager to from - Astarion, Enver, Raphael- the list was growing.
"From," Isobel mouthed the next word- Bhaal.
Her vision blurred and blood throbbed in her ears sounding like loud drums beating against her head. She took slow, deliberate breaths until the spots in her vision faded and the image of Isobel's calming face sharpened. She tried to will the panic away as she spoke.
"I forgot I told you about that."
"It was the last thing you told me."
"Does anyone else know about it?" Isobel shook her head. Thank the Gods.
She had been frazzled the evening she left Baldur's Gate. They had not slept in days and the fight against the Brain had been hard won. But hearing that voice in her mind was what sent her over the edge. A voice she had heard before, a voice she hoped to never hear again.
"I haven't heard anything since that night." Fallon finally said. Isobel's face relaxed into a smile.
"That's a relief. I thought about you all this time, worried." A familiar pang of guilt rose again.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, you're doing your best."
"Sorry for what?" Shadowheart reappeared behind Fallon. Isobel's eyes widened and she shot a panicked look at Fallon.
"For disappearing without a word," Fallon said. Technically the truth, but Fallon didn't like the taste of withholding the full truth from friends.
"You should know Fallon, that no one was angry at you. We were all just worried," Shadowheart placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down, "but your back now and all is well. So stop apologising." A smile spread on Fallon's lips, she always appreciated Shadowheart's pragmatism.
"Now we have hungry people to feed. Fallon, why don't you stay and have breakfast with us?" Shadowheart asked.
"Yes, stay for breakfast! You can tell us what you've been up to," Isobel added. Fallon shrugged.
"Of course," the word escaped her lips before she fully grasped its meaning. Originally, her plan was just to visit Shadowheart briefly before delving into the investigation of the Crown. However, she became aware that she was procrastinating, understanding that immersing herself in the Crown conspiracy would inevitably bring about complications. Yearning for a few more moments of blissful ignorance and tranquillity, she hesitated to plunge into the impending challenges. But breakfast with old friends sounded too appealing to pass up.
The morning unfolded into a thrum of activity as the three of them cooked breakfast in the old kitchen. Isobel baked dough she had prepared earlier while Shadowheart and Fallon squeezed juice from oranges and mixed jams. After some time they all gathered in the dining room with the rest of the inhabitants of the temple and ate together. There had been more present in the temple than Fallon had anticipated.
Laughter echoed through the dining room, and the lively morning chatter continued unabated, even as they indulged in their breakfast. Fallon noticed that some individuals displayed unmistakable signs of eccentricity, while others seemed entirely ordinary to her. Yet, everyone actively engaged in the ongoing conversation about the street cats that Elivra– one of the occupants– had been secretly feeding. Half the table agreed that feeding the cats was a noble cause while the other half argued that feeding them was only going to attract more. Fallon immersed herself completely into the moment, enjoying the discussion around something so trivial and yet seemed so important to all of them. They argued about the topic the way her and her companions had argued on how to deal with Ketheric. She preferred this conversation more.
Once breakfast was finished and the conversation simmered, Fallon and Shadowheart began clearing the table while Isobel checked on the mourning woman upstairs.
"So why didn't Gale come and find me?" she finally broke the quaint conversation they had been having before– a discussion on the best way to bake a pie. Fallon had been avoiding her responsibility but she knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up with her.
"He thinks someone has the Crown of Karsus. People were probing him in Waterdeep so he came here secretly to look for it and the Netherstones. Him and Rolan have been staying in Lorrakan's tower," she said matter-of-factly. Shadowheart didn't need fluff, only facts. When she looked at Shadowheart's face, she saw only the steely eyes Fallon had become familiar with.
"You're back barely a day and he already finds you and asks for help, gods he's a hopeless romantic."
"He didn't find me, I found him, and I'm only doing this because I'm the one that lost that stupid crown in the first place."
"Still, he could have asked me for help."
"Do you want to help?" Fallon put down the porcelain plates she was holding, "I don't know where this will lead us, and you know as well as I do that there are powerful entities sniffing around that crown. Once we get involved there's no backing away."
Shadowheart's expression tightened, her eyes betraying the intricate calculations unfolding within. Fallon was well aware of it, and she sensed that Shadowheart recognized it too—this was the crucial juncture, the instance that Shadowheart would later rue, blaming her for entangling them both in the chaos. Fallon was convinced that this would be the moment etched in Shadowheart's memory with regret.
"I want to help, in any way I can."
Fallon nodded and picked up the plates, "Then come with me to the cathedral."
"There's a mid-day service everyday, if we're quick maybe we can catch it." Already coming in with a plan, bless you Shadowheart, you wickedly smart girl.
"Then let's clean this up quickly." The two cleaned up the table and the kitchen together, as they were ready to leave Shadowheart turned to Fallon.
"Let me just check on Isobel, I'll catch up."
Fallon headed out of the mansion and sat on the stone bench outside. The sun was reaching its zenith and the midday heat began to feel soupy. She removed her cowl and undid the top few buttons of her dress to air it out. A small, pathetic breeze gave some respite. She didn't turn to look as she felt a presence appear next to her and sit down.
A burly man with a round face, a white beard and small round spectacles looked back at her as she greeted the newcomer. He hadn't been at breakfast but she recognised the white tunic and slippers on his feet.
"It's nice to reminisce, isn't it?" he said with a smile that caused his rosy cheeks to plump.
"It is, I've been doing a lot of that recently."
Under the sheltering branches of a willow tree, the oppressive heat of the day seemed momentarily eased. Fallon felt a sweatbead break and slide down her neck.
"You know, Shadowheart has quite the tales to tell. It's always a lively affair at the dinner table when she and Isobel start recounting their stories," he remarked, gazing up at the sky. Unlike Fallon, he seemed impervious to the heat, with barely a drop of sweat on him. "And they talk about you a lot."
A warmth enveloped Fallon's heart at the thought of being remembered. Despite her departure, the fact that her name echoed in their conversations brought a sense of significance. She reached out, patting the man's hand with gratitude.
"I appreciate you sharing that. It warms my heart to know they still think of me."
His eyes turned toward the window of the elderly woman's room, its dark interior silently witnessing the events of the day. His expression shifted.
"I just wish I could do more for them," he sighed, his gaze lingering on the window. "Some memories are best left forgotten."
As if summoned by his words, the image of Fallon's first husband flashed through her mind, his cold, piercing blue eyes etched into her memory. Shaking her head to dispel the haunting recollection, she reminded herself that he was gone, unwelcome in her present.
"I'm sorry, I made you think of something you didn't want to think of."
"It's fine," she smiled at him, "the bad memories only make the good ones better." His face brightened like a blooming flower.
"I hadn't thought of it like that, but you're right."
They shared a quiet moment of serenity as a quiet breeze rustled the willow branches. The midday heat quieted the streets as people sought shelter. Fallon was all too aware of the sheet of moisture building up on her back, and she wished for a cold river to plunge into– one like the river they camped by after the Nautiloid crash.
"Do you think then, that evil people just have more bad memories than good?" the man's hearty voice sliced through the stillness.
"I'm certain of it. Evil multiplies inside us, like a disease."
"Do you think if you altered their bad memories, they would become good?" The question stirred her. She had met her fair share of villains in her relatively short life, some of them she knew well enough to understand the source of their evil. She thought of Orin, one of the most depraved of them all, and remembered her history and wondered if her life could have been different.
" I wish I knew," was all she could muster, "but I will always admire those that protected their goodness despite their suffering."
"Yes, I admire them as well."
Fallon heard the large, wooden doors open and Shadowheart emerged in the garden.
"Gods, this heat," she fanned herself as she approached.
"Let's hope it's cool in the cathedral." Fallon stood up and bowed to the man on the stone bench.
"It was a pleasure to meet you." He bowed his head in response. He reached out and gently touched Shadowheart's arm.
"Don't forget the pregnant couple that are visiting today, Bex and Danis. They wanted to visit before the full moon. Remember?"
"Hells, I'd completely forgotten about that. Thank you Alfred."
"You're welcome," he smiled up at her, his eyes sparkling and Fallon could see that he truly admired Shadowheart. She wanted to pinch his cheeks that turned into round, red balls when he smiled. She thought once again of her own grandfather, a man who also had a jovial presence and kind face.
"Have a nice day Alfred," the two women bid him goodbye and headed towards the iron gates that enclosed the temple and its garden in serenity. As Shadowheart forced the rusted gate shut, Aflred called out to them.
"Fallon," he shouted from the bench, "what only gets its prize when it comes in second place in the race?" Fallon's eyebrows knitted together and she looked at Shadowheart who only chuckled and shrugged at her.
"Don't look at me."
"Is it a riddle?" Fallon yelled back.
"Think on it, you'll know the answer soon enough," he waved and the two of them departed down the dusty road. Once they were far enough Shadowheart turned to Fallon.
"Alfred is a very gentle soul, he was one of the early occupants of the temple. He's quite the comforting presence."
"He seems a little eccentric but otherwise quite ordinary, why does he stay in the temple?" Fallon asked.
"He thinks he's a God, he's only mentioned it a few times but we've insisted he stay with us. I can't imagine a kind heart like his out here in the chaos." Fallon blinked in puzzlement.
"A God? Like one of the…" she pointed to the sky. Shadowheart chuckled.
"Yes, like one of them."
"Perhaps he is one," Fallon playfully elbowed Shadowheart.
"He's far too kind and grounded to be a God." Fallon snorted. Good point.
As they walked side by side, Fallon quietly pondered how the strange God-Man knew her name.
They had spotted the cathedral jutting out of the city long before they arrived. Like a beacon, they followed it as they snaked through the crowd of people. The location struck Fallon as strange, squeezed between the Lower City and the Upper City. It surprised her that the residents of the Upper CIty would allow such a dominating structure to interrupt their views. But moreso, Fallon was unprepared for the sea of people at the entrance when they arrived.
"I had no idea so many people were religious in this city," Fallon gazed up at the towering masterpiece that commanded attention with an imposing yet enchanting presence. Its grandeur reached skyward, casting a shadow over the urban landscape. Sunlight hit the golden symbol of a sun that reflected the light down onto the swelling crowd below. Standing in the shadow of its architectural marvel, Fallon couldn't help but feel a sense of humility, dwarfed by the cathedral's magnificence.
"Lathander has gotten quite popular in recent years," Shaodwheart said as they shuffled inside.
The cathedral's interior was a cavernous expanse of majestic proportions. Rib-vaulted ceilings soared overhead, supported by towering columns that seem to reach for the heavens. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting ethereal red and yellow hues upon the polished marble floor. Every whisper and step reverberated around the tall hollow cathedral. Masterful paintings of Lathander and His stories filled the empty spaces between the windows. The pews groaned as people stuffed themselves into empty seats. Fallon and Shadowheart joined the crowd on the edges of the pews by a column. At the front was a podium made of gold, flanked by the most beautiful of the paintings held in golden frames. Very gaudy. Fallon thought.
Encircling the upper reaches of the space, a second floor housed additional rows of pews. Unlike their rigid, wooden counterparts below, the upper-level seats appeared luxuriously cushioned. Fallon observed as composed individuals gracefully took their places in the plush pews, their refined attire and glistening jewels unmistakably marking them as members of the elite Patriah class. It became clear to Fallon why the cathedral occupied such an awkward position between the Lower City and the Upper City—two separate entrances, one for the low-born and another for the privileged.
Upon the elevated podium, a diverse group of young children, adorned in blinding white robes with intricate gold trimmings, gathered side by side. As the cathedral fell into a tranquil hush, the children commenced singing, their voices celestial and harmonious. Though the hymn eluded Fallon's recognition, the entire congregation joined in, their mouths moving in synchronous devotion. While the melody resonated through the grand space, Fallon's gaze traversed the faces below on the lower level before ascending to those seated above. Her eyes scanned for familiar visages, and in an unexpected moment, she locked eyes with a pair of crimson orbs that jolted her memory like a lightning strike. Immobilised, her eyes widened as she watched Astarion singing in unison with the rest of the cathedral.