"For goodness' sake
I wasn't told you'd be this cold
Now it's my time to depart, and
I just had a change of heart…"
As Del went to insert the last gem into the socket on the platform, a look of uncertainty flitted over Shadowheart's face. "Wait..." she said vaguely, looking off into the distance.
"Wait for what? Is everything alright?" He paused before getting onto the platform with the others.
Shadowheart looked back at him, seeming to recover from whatever had momentarily shaken her. "Sorry - it's nothing. I don't know what came over me there."
"Are you sure?" Del prodded again. "You looked pretty worried there for a second."
"I'm not worried," she said, the fire of resolve burning in her eyes once more. "How could I worry, when I'm right where I need to be? Under Lady Shar's gaze." She nodded to Del, and he inserted the orb into its slot. The stone slab beneath them gave a shudder as the magical platform shook itself free from the floor around it and began to move.
Unlike the elevator that had transported them down here, this one drifted sideways across an empty expanse of space rather than descending further below. It finally ground to a halt in front of a circular doorway at the other end of the gap, which was set into a sheer expanse of wall with no floor underneath aside from the platform they'd arrived on. It looked like getting the orbs from all the trials (and the devil, who'd taken over whatever the last trial had originally been) was the only way to get there.
As Del and the others stepped off the platform, the door slid open automatically as if it was expecting them. Del shivered at the draft that emanated from the chamber within, and at the barely-audible whispers that unfurled on the currents of chill air.
Much of the chamber was taken up by a pool of still water. Steps led down into it, continuing down into the dark liquid as far as Del could see. It would have reminded him of the communal baths of Oryndoll – only for illithids, of course, thralls allowed by invitation only - it wasn't for the sensation of vastness; of unknowable depth hidden beneath the surface.
"I understand now," Shadowheart whispered, conducting one half of a conversation that the rest of them couldn't hear. "I know what I must do."
Without looking back or even stopping to remove her armor or clothing, she walked down the steps until the black water closed over her head. A single circular ripple spread outward from where she had disappeared, lapping softly at the edges of the pool… And then the water calmed and its surface became unnaturally still once more.
Del and the others shared a troubled look.
"She's not coming back up," Astarion said nervously. "Don't tell me we have to follow her down there?"
In lieu of an answer, Del took his first step into the water.
As soon as his head was fully submerged, Del felt the world shift around him. The sensation of cool liquid vanished and was replaced by the emptiness of air. The darkness around him deepened, but then lightened again to expose totally new surroundings.
Del's first thought was that this place looked like a warped version of the Astral Prism. The same fragmented rocky platforms, floating unsupported in an empty void – but rather than a sky studded with thousands of stars, here there was only a dense gray fog. The air around Del crackled with the intensity of a lightning storm, causing the patches of grown-out hair on the sides of his head to stand on end. There was no visible source of light, but yet it was just bright enough to see. Like in the Prism, Del's body felt lighter than usual, as if he could drift away at any moment.
He looked back, and saw the rest of his companions gingerly emerge into this bizarre landscape. Everyone was here now except Shadowheart herself.
"Hey! Shadowheart!" he called, seeing a small figure up ahead in the distance. It turned back toward him, revealing itself to be the cleric after all.
"There you are," she said in exasperation, doubling back toward them. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't follow me. Maybe it would be for the best if you didn't."
"We couldn't just let you do this alone," Del said. "We're here for you, whatever this final test may be."
An odd expression crossed the cleric's face. "Really?" she scoffed. "You're too kind to me. It's not like I've given you much of a reason to be."
Del shrugged. "I get it. I haven't been great either, with keeping things from you all… So who am I to judge? Don't worry about it. Let's go see what's down at the center of this place."
For he was beginning to realize their surroundings had a shape to them. As the space inside the Prism reminded one of a skeleton, so this realm resembled nothing more than an enormous bowl. To go forward was to descend, leaping from platform to platform, each floating lower than the last. Eventually they all converged, leading to a large concave platform in the center of this pocket dimension.
Del and the others all followed Shadowheart as she led the way down from platform to platform. Each jump carried Del three times the distance it would have in the real world, even without the use of his psionics.
After the second platform, Del nearly broke his ankles when a shadow materialized right in front of him mid-jump, blocking the area where he was about to land. He managed to avoid it, rolling to the side just in time to hear it whisper, "Descend to her," as it disappeared once more.
The next time a shadow appeared, he was far more ready for it. "Listen to her..." the second one hissed. Before it dissipated, Del had time to notice that it seemed to be wearing the same kind of thick-plated black armor that he'd seen on skeletons all over the temple.
The closer they got to the center, the smaller the platforms became and the larger the gaps between them. "This is like that awful Faith Leap Trial," Del panted as he nearly missed a platform entirely.
"We're almost there… I can feel it," Shadowheart assured him.
The next time the shadows appeared, three of them popped up at once; far larger and more solid-seeming than the ones before. Rather than disappearing, their sibilant whispers overlapped in a chorus.
"See her... Speak with her... Kill her."
"They're the spirits of former Dark Justiciars," Shadowheart realized. "Here to see me on my way."
The further they went, the worse Del felt about this whole thing. The shadows' words were building up a terrible anticipation within him, fueled by the suspicion that Shadowheart's final sacrifice to become a Dark Justiciar would be a steep price to pay indeed. Who was the woman that these ghosts spoke of?
Eventually, they made it to the central platform. Chill winds whistled around them and lightning split the illusory sky above as they made the final leap, but the center platform was an oasis of stillness. They had reached the eye of the storm.
In the middle of the platform, surrounded by a glowing dome of magic that could have been either shield or prison, stood a woman. But this was like no woman Del had ever seen. Her skin was pale as a porcelain doll, but mottled with black markings that reminded Del of his own. Except instead a pattern of veins, hers looked more like jagged cracks, further intensifying the impression of a child's broken toy. Her silvery-blonde hair was limp and greasy, and her powerful limbs were girded in rags.
"Oh, no…" Del whispered to himself as everything clicked into place. The Nightsong was no relic - she was a person . Del didn't know what this woman had to do with Ketheric Thorm's immortality, but the rest of the sordid tale was crystal clear. Shadowheart's final test to join the Dark Justiciars would be no less than cold-blooded murder.
The woman - the Nightsong - scowled as she looked upon the visitors to her domain. Her gaze lingered for a long time upon Shadowheart specifically. "You," she addressed the cleric. "I felt you coming. The first in a century to arrive here seeking the praise of your wicked goddess. Do you know what I am, little assassin?"
"Assassin is right," Shadowheart retorted. "You're the last thing standing between me and a Justiciar's uniform. If Lady Shar says you need to die, then so be it."
"Wait!" the Nightsong cautioned, raising her voice. "If you kill me now, you'll never learn the truth of your past. You were never meant to be a Dark Justiciar, or even a Sharran. You're nothing more than a lost child, frightened by wolves in the dark."
"What?" Shadowheart was startled, her composure faltering for a moment, but then a look of rage etched itself onto her features. "What did you just say?"
"I know more of you than you do yourself," the Nightsong continued. "Much has been promised to you, hasn't it? But much has also been taken from you. Haven't you ever wondered what may lie within your lost memories?"
"My memories aren't lost," Shadowheart insisted, bristling. She came right up to the glowing barrier separating the party from the Nightsong, trying to glare at her eye-to-eye even though the other woman was nearly six inches taller. "I agreed for them to be taken from me before I set out on my mission. They were to be returned when I arrived with the artifact – but I'll find another way to get them back if I need to."
Del realized that, with all the focus on his own and later Scion's lost memories, he hadn't quite realized the extent to which Shadowheart was suffering from her own amnesia. She was always so taciturn and mistrustful, and he'd been so buried in his own concerns... He wished he'd been there for her more, but now it might be too late.
"Fine. If not lost, then your memories are deliberately hidden," the Nightsong continued. "Even those that are left to you have been altered to feed you convenient falsehoods. That long-ago night, it wasn't the wolves you were running from..."
"Stop it! Just stop talking," Shadowheart snarled, brandishing the spear she'd found in the temple, the one mounted above an inscription about silencing the Nightsong… "I know what you're doing - just trying your best to sow doubt and turn me from my path."
"Uh, Shadowheart?" Del said from behind her. "Maybe you should hear her out. Even the shadows earlier said to listen before killing her."
The cleric whirled on him. "What do you know about this? Sure, we're both missing some memories, but this is not the same."
Del told himself that Shadowheart wasn't trying to be deliberately rude, but was just lashing out like a wounded animal unable to see past her own pain. "I know what it's like to be fed false information," Del said, trying to answer the question in the spirit in which it was asked. He looked deeply into the half-elf's pale green eyes and spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. "I know what it's like to kill someone based on that information, then wish I could take it back the second I found out the truth."
He could see the moment when the seed of doubt he'd planted germinated behind her eyes. "I... no…" she sputtered, brushing her bangs out of her face with one hand while stubbornly clutching her spear in the other. "Lady Shar is testing me! Everything this woman says is probably a lie."
"You'd be wise to heed your friend's warning," the Nightsong said behind her. "Much is being withheld from you. If you release me, I'll tell you the truth about your past. And this goes beyond just the two of us – freeing me could be the key to defeating our mutual enemy."
Temporarily ignoring Shadowheart's inner struggle, Del approached the imprisoned woman. "You being here is somehow making Ketheric Thorm invulnerable, right? Is there a way to make him mortal again without killing you?"
The Nightsong latched onto the hopeful look in his eyes. "Yes! There is a way, but there's nothing you can do, save convincing your Sharran friend to spare me. This barrier is a soul cage. It both traps me here and preserves Ketheric's invulnerability. Save for some very powerful magic only known to his servants, the only thing that can break the cage is a prospective Dark Justiciar choosing not to kill me, and instead extending a hand to me in friendship."
Del looked from the Nightsong to Shadowheart and back again. The cleric still looked mulishly stubborn as she held the spear, and appeared to be working up the nerve to strike.
It would be so easy, a voice whispered to him. You could convince her to spare the Nightsong with a single word, as long as it is spoken in the right tone… Not doing so would be negligent. If you really cared about your friend, you would make her do the right thing. Del tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. It was nothing external like the Emperor or the Absolute or one of his companions. No, this sounded concerningly like a part of himself, one that had been growing quietly for days now despite all his efforts to keep it suppressed. But that would take away her ability to choose for herself, Del argued back, actually shaking his head to physically suppress the intrusive thought. And anyway, would that even count towards breaking the barrier, if it's not her own decision to spare the Nightsong? It was the logical rebuttal, not the ethical one, that finally shut up his internal voice and allowed him to return his focus to the scene in front of him.
Del's heart sank as he saw Shadowheart raise her spear high, aiming for the Nightsong's heart. Was it already too late to convince her? But then he noticed that her eyes were half-closed, and her teeth were gritted as if she was the one preparing to receive the blow.
Shadowheart did not strike. Instead, she shot a furtive look back at Del, as if waiting for his approval. He stared back, stony-faced, refusing to give it - but implored with his eyes for her to back down.
As if hearing his unspoken pleas, she lowered the spear and flung it off to the side. The weapon clattered off the edge of the platform, and then fell away into the void.
"What... what have I done?" Shadowheart fell to her knees, staring down at the stone of the platform below her. "Lady Shar is going to disown me, or worse…"
"Not what you did," the Nightsong said. "But what you will do. Extend your hand to me through the barrier, and I will be free. Ketheric Thorm will be mortal once more."
It took a moment for the Nightsong's words to penetrate Shadowheart's paralysis, but she shook herself off and slowly got to her feet. She approached the glowing barrier that separated them from the imprisoned woman and tentatively reached a hand through it. The moment she made contact, the barrier flickered, then disappeared entirely when the Nightsong's hand closed around her own.
"Thank you," breathed the pale-skinned woman. "You've freed me from a century of sorrow. I will tell you all I know of your past – we have much to discuss. But first, I must return to my true form. We have a battle to fight."
She closed her eyes and straightened her posture, her entire demeanor changing from a trapped prisoner to a regal warrior. And then, slowly at first but then gathering momentum, her appearance itself began to change. Her eyes glowed icy blue as the layer of caked-on dirt and grime disappeared from her skin. The black markings resembling cracks on her cheeks smoothed over, leaving mere shadows of themselves. Her rags turned to gleaming plate armor, and finally, most amazingly... resplendent snow-white wings sprouted from her shoulders.
Del looked up in awe as the Nightsong floated upward, her feet leaving the ground as her new wings extended outward to reach their full span.
"Nightsong is not my true name," she proclaimed. "I am Dame Aylin, daughter of Selûne herself. I have been imprisoned for a century, but no more. Come with me, and we shall put an end to Ketheric Thorm."
And with that, she took flight.