Four years before the troubles in Waterdeep came to a head, Halem (going by the name of ‘Jon’) was working in Linaeth’s Elven Fairs in Baldur’s Gate. On that particular day, he was smiling and nodding while barely listening as his customer, an elf named Rilynn, outlined why the curved elven blade she’d purchased the day before was not exactly what she was looking for and why she was hoping to exchange it for something. The first day she had come in, he had been extremely attentive and had thought that he had found her exactly what she wanted. At that time, it was a small buckler shield she was shopping for. She had seemed very appreciative and had smiled a lot as she paid for her purchase. Then she had come back the next day, apologizing and explaining that it wasn’t quite right.

He’d been slightly annoyed, but played his part as the dutiful store clerk, smiled pleasantly, and did everything he could to help her find something that was more to her liking. Weirdly, Rilynn had come back for third time, though now she wanted to exchange her new shield for a sword. The following day, she wanted the curved sword instead of a straight sword. And now she didn’t like the curved blade either.

He had complained briefly to Linaeth – the owner of the store and his boss – about Rilynn’s inability to make up her damn mind, but she only smiled and shook her head with an amused sort of twinkle in her eye.

“The customer is always right, Jon,” Linaeth had told him. “Spend as much time as you need with her so we can be sure she walks away satisfied. Rilynn has a lot of ties with the elven community in the surrounding area. Besides, she’s a good friend and I want her taken care of.”

And that was that. Linaeth wanted him to do what he could to make the ridiculously indecisive elf happy, so that’s what he had to do.

“I’m so sorry about all this Jon,” Rilynn said with an apologetic smile as she briefly touched his arm. “You really have been extremely kind to keep helping me. I’m sure it’s a bother, but I want to make sure I get something I can keep for a long time and pass on to my children, should I ever find someone to have them with.”

Halem shrugged. He’d been pretending to be “Jon” for so many months that it wasn’t very hard to swallow the biting sarcasm that would normally have come out of his mouth. “I don’t mind at all,Miss Rilynn,” he told her with a smile that he didn’t feel. “I just want to make sure that you are satisfied with your purchase.”

“Please, call me Rily,” Rilynn said sweetly, leaning in a little closer. “All of my friends do.”

Halem felt his smile falter slightly. He felt the briefest flash of what seemed to be insight, but he just couldn’t accept what his brain was telling him was happening. It was stupid, but he was certain he had seen Lila lean in towards Rheagar in a very similar fashion.

“Um… sure, uh, Rily,” Halem replied awkwardly, feeling his cheeks heat up. “So, if, uh, the sword isn’t what you want, what would be better?”

Rilynn’s smile brightened. “Well, I was thinking that while my father and brothers have all favored the sword, my great-grandfather was an extremely accomplished bowman. I thought a bow would be nice way to honor him. He was a hero in this area for a long time.”

Halem didn’t really care. “That’s very interesting,” he said with a smile. “We did get a few bows in just the other day. At least one of them came out of some ruins to the northeast, I think. I didn’t look too closely, but it seemed to be an excellent piece.”

He walked into the back, instantly located the bow, and then sat for a few minutes trying to tell himself that he was wrong about Rilynn. When he lost that battle, he instead turned his thoughts to why he should care. After all, she was certainly attractive and he didn’t hate spending time with her, aside from the fact that she kept coming back for reasons that he hadn’t understood until that moment. She was, perhaps, a little old for him, but that was only because he still wasn’t entirely used to the idea of being in his father’s body. She couldn’t be much over 200 and, if they weirdly ended up together, they would have centuries together before either of them even started to look “old.”

Despite that, the thought of becoming involved with her made Halem feel uncomfortable. It felt as though he were breaking some law that he couldn’t put his finger on.

He shrugged and set the matter aside. He could only hide for so long before it started to seem cowardly. With a sigh, he picked up the bow and headed back out.

“Here it is, exactly as I thought,” he told her with a grin that was supposed to let her know what a good find it was. He turned it over in his hand, displaying the craftsmanship. “Notice the intricate carvings where the upper limb and grip meet. Under normal circumstances, this should have weakened the pull on the bow, but,” he let it settle easily into his hands and drew the string back in one smooth motion, “it has lost none of the tension.”

Halem was positive that Rilynn’s eyes were not on the bow.

“You handle it like an expert,” she told him with an appraising look.

Halem relaxed his arm quickly. “Well, I guess I’m okay,” he replied sheepishly.

“I wish I could have taken lessons from my great-grandfather, but he was always off on some sort of treasure hunt or taking care of a giant that was threatening a settlement.” She paused and then asked, “Do you think you could give me some lessons?”

“I’m, uh, not sure I’d be a very good teacher,” Halem replied, backing away and setting the bow down on a nearby table. “Plus, I’m pretty busy here. Linaeth is getting a shipment fro—”

“Jon, I’m giving you the day off tomorrow,” Linaeth’s voice called from the backroom.

And then everything fell into place for Halem. He’d wondered why Linaeth let Rilynn keep coming back and exchanging the previous purchase for something new and why she’d insisted that he take care of her despite the fact that the two women were friends. It was the sort of setup Lila would have masterminded.

He was trapped and had no choice but to agree.

“Looks like we’re having a lesson tomorrow,” he told Rilynn in a voice that he hoped hid how annoying of a chore he considered the whole thing.

“Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me!”

She took the bow, paid the difference between it and the sword she was returning and then headed out of the store, looking back as she walked through the door and smiling happily one last time at him.

“Congratulations on the sale,” Linaeth said as she came out from the backroom.

“Fifth time’s the charm, I suppose.”

“Well, hopefully she will be more than satisfied with the bow and the lessons.”

Halem rolled his eyes. “Is it safe to assume that this whole thing was a set up?”

“I’m sure that I have no idea what you are talking about,” Linaeth laughed. “Though, now that you mention it, Rily has asked about you a few times. Plus, she’s single and very sweet. A man would have to be crazy not to be interested in her.”

Halem gave a noncommittal grunt.

Linaeth was quiet for a long time, absentmindedly wiping off the counter and straightening a few daggers that were displayed there.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said eventually. “I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you, but you don’t really seem to have any friends in town other than that gem merchant, Featherstone. You’ve been in Baldur’s Gate for almost a year and you don’t seem to care about anything other than running the store. Not that I don’t appreciate your dedication, but I don’t want you to be a shut in.”

“I’m not really looking for a…. relationship,” Halem told her keeping his eyes firmly on the door, trying to will a customer to come through it and save him from the conversation.

“Sometimes good things come along when we aren’t looking for them.”

Halem nodded slowly. “I’ll… I’ll give her the lessons and try to keep an open mind,” he said at last, not completely sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“I guess that’s all I can ask.”

At that moment, a customer walked through the door and Halem practically launched himself at the poor dwarf.

True to his word, he did give Rilynn bowmanship lessons. He even had dinner with her a few times and spent an extremely uncomfortable afternoon hiking in the woods with her. She was very pleasant, accepting what she interpreted as shyness and going slow with him. After three weeks of spending time with her, Halem could bring himself to hold her hand, but found that he could not move beyond that. He saw plenty of opportunities to move the relationship forward, but never took them.

Though she never said anything or gave any indication of impatience with him, Halem was certain that Rilynn was frustrated by how slow things were developing. Clearly Lineath was hearing about it, however, as she often made small comments that he was certain were meant to encourage him to be more forward.

Ultimately, the relationship was doomed and, though it took him a while, Halem eventually understood why. Were he in his own body, he probably could have returned Rilynn’s feelings, but he was not. This was Erim’s body and Halem couldn’t bring himself to use it in that way. He wanted to honor his father and the sacrifice that Erim had made to save him. Despite being the current resident of Erim’s body, Halem did not – and never would – feel completely at home there.

Five years later, he would find himself back in Waterdeep, walking next to the body that had temporarily housed his soul. While he was still not where he was supposed to be, he had already noticed the weight of responsibility vanishing from his shoulders.

“I didn’t kill her because she’s obviously in love with you,” Erim told Halem as they left his father’s treasury.

Halem had no idea what his father was talking about. The last woman he had seen with his father had been Lila. “Yeeeaahh,” he said, drawing the word out, “Lila isn’t in love with me. She’s like a sister and married on top of that.”

Erim rolled his eyes. “Not her. I meant the other one. The one with hips.”

“Ah, well that narrows it down, since I know so many women without hips.”

Erim’s hand shot out and cuffed Halem on the back of the head. Not hard and there almost seemed to be an affectionate smile on his face, but it was still enough to hurt. “Stopping being stupid and deal with the girl, one way or the other.”

“I still have no idea who you are talking about,” Halem replied, dancing out of the way as Erim’s hand lashed out again, this time with more force. “Also, this is a weird conversation. Can we please drop it?”

Erim shook his head, but mercifully let the subject go.

Halem fell into thought as the two picked their way down the side of the mountain, following an almost invisible trail.

Obviously his father was talking about Alora. Thinking about her brought up thoughts of Rilynn in Baldur’s Gate and his reluctance to get involved romantically with anyone in the last fire years. The same was probably true of the young witch who was, somehow, even more forward than Rilynn. In the last few months, as he had gotten to know Alora, he had been somewhat flattered and more than a little annoyed by her attention. Generally, he tried to pretend he didn’t notice her gaze and ignored the comments she made. When she had walked in on him in the bath, he had purposefully pretended that he didn’t care what she saw. After all, nothing could happen. It was Erim’s body and Halem would not use it that way.

He felt no such compulsions to honor Jurisk, but he’d had five years of practice at not getting involved or opening himself up to anything beyond a platonic relationship. Aside from one night of too much wine when he went to the Temple of Calistra for information about Alora’s family (a night that he had spent almost a week mentally berating himself over), he had never so much as looked at a woman in a romantic way. He was not entire sure if he was even capable of getting beyond that mental huddle at this point.

If Abbott Caen were still alive, Halem would have gone to him for advice, but he was gone and Halem didn’t think he could talk to Pan or Lila or anyone else about this issue. For the time being, he would simply continue as he had and hoped that it all worked out.

After six years of adventuring, he’d found that things generally seemed to take care of themselves eventually…

…and he was just going to have to pretend that he wasn’t on his third body in that same amount of time!

Elam the Mule did not trust the cat. From the very first moment he had witnessed it float in the air and then turn and speak to the dancing one, Elam knew the party was more just a simple traveling group. The mule had hoped to return to a farmstead, where there was sunshine in the spring and warm hay in the barn. Life was simple. He missed that. But the smelly, toothy ones had come in from the North. They had hurt his family, killing big farmer-man, and burning the barn. They had even tried to catch Elam, presumably to eat, the Mule thought darkly. But Elam had always been faster than he looked, maybe he just had more horse than donkey in him.
Grazing on a soft patch of ground near a bubbling creek, Elam narrowed his brown eyes on the nimble feline. Cats were always trouble. Even back at the Farm, cats were just so…mysterious. Creeping in and out of the shadows, occasionally killing mice or birds who flew too close. Indulgent creatures who looked like they were moving even when sitting still. Now, dogs he understood. Simple creature themselves, wanting to please the humans. Enjoying the sunshine and the smells. Maybe a little too nosy for his taste; Elam remembered when Old Joe had barked so loud that big farmer-man had come running and found Elam into the oats. Tattle-tale, the mule snorted. But still, even when Old Joe had gotten his head stuck in a bucket, he was a good dog. Elam reminisced how the dog had warned the family of the approaching toothy ones. It had been his courage that allowed milk lady and the two little ones to flee into the woods, as the dog and big farmer-man had tried to fight of the newcomers. There had been so much blood…
The disappearing light shaded down the mule’s back, as he braced himself against the wind and memories of Before. The cat sauntered by, its tail high. Elam stared down at the cat. The cat stared back.
We need to talk. The cat glanced up.
How do you do such things! Elam demanded.
Not important. The cat answered. But was is…is you. Why are you dragging your feet so? I know you can move faster. Are you afraid? Hurt?
___Who says I can move faster?_
_______The horses told me_. The cat tilted his head. Elam glared at the others, who pointedly ignored him. Horses, Elam thought, were vain, meddlesome creatures who should keep themselves quiet.
I am not hurt or afraid.
The cat stared back.
Ok, maybe a little afraid…These people are not trustworthy. You are not trustworthy.
What exactly is wrong with them? The cat queried.
Elam snorted. __Everything! Everything is wrong with them. The dark one hints of blood! The shadows cling to him. The short fancy one should not be travelling. She is with foal! The Arrow one walks too silently and his tiny one buzzes to close! He picked me. I am here because of him._
__And me?_ The cat asked.
You and the dancing one are the worst! You too quick! You play with forces better left alone! It was not this way Before.
I see. The cat murmured thoughtfully. Licking his paw quietly, he inched his ear. You miss your home. The Before?
__Of course. It was Peace. It was Home._
__Well I know of another who misses his home._ The cat turned towards the murmuring adventurers sitting by the fire. ___Do you see the fair one? What do you think of him?_
_____I…I do not know yet of him. He is quiet…but not silent. He is the sad one._ They watched the young ranger, sitting back a little bit from the other four figures. His head bowed over a blade.
__Yes, he is sad. Do you know of him? He too lost a family to the orcs of the North. He was a farmer and now he has nothing. His home and family are gone. He misses the Before as well._
__A farmer-man?_ The mule looked over at the figure.
You may not trust the rest of us…I can’t exactly blame you. And I do not have the power to bring you back the Before. It too is gone. But Hamreth grieves too. Maybe you can grieve together. The cat turned and walked back towards the fire.

The next morning the sun rose bright and the adventurers were up early to start the day. But before Hamreth could saddle the older mule (who very much preferred to carry the lighter packs than a fully grown man), the previously skittish brown mule bummed into the ranger. Refusing to let the man saddle the other, the mule stood calmly as the Hamreth signed, frustrated.
“What do you want you silly mule?” Hamreth signed as he scratched the mule’s ear.
Suddenly, the cat popped his head up from the grass.
__His name is Elam and he wants you to ride him._
_

By the third day, Buck had gotten used to being in saddle again, both literally in the saddle of a horse, but also he had gotten used to giving directions and making decisions without asking anyone’s permission. While he did often ask Hamreth’s advice, this was more out of a desire to help him feel useful than out of a need for judgement. This close to Waterdeep the dangerous and problems were negligible. But Buck knew as they made their way further and further north, he would have to rely on Hamreth for advice. For now, he was happy getting out of the city again, and traveling the open road. He even enjoyed Lila’s incessant questions and awe at the remarkably tame “nature” around them.

Buck was deep in thought about whether or not they had bought enough supplies for the slow pace they were making when Hamreth rode up beside him. “This crossroads up ahead is where Old Fangmeyer and I held of a band of kobolds with a pretty green band of teamsters.” “Really?” As Buck asked him questions about the event, one story led into another, and soon Hamreth was telling stories of his experiences guiding caravans in the North. It seemed to put Hamreth finally at ease, as he told stories of battles and strange races, plants, and animals he had encountered in his travels. Buck began to realize that Hamreth probably wasn’t that good of a farmer if half the stories he told were true, because he would have been away from home so much. But there didn’t seem to be any hint of fabrication in Hamreth’s stories. As the days wore on, and the stories continued Buck learned as much as he could, while he had made perhaps a half dozen trips into the North, his experience was quite limited compared to Hamreth’s and the stories helped to fill in the gaps. What is more, the shock of losing his family seemed to have eased somewhat, even if the pain hadn’t. It seemed good to get Hamreth talking about something, because otherwise he sat silently with a pained look on his face.

As the days and stories went on, a question kept nagging Buck, “How did Hamreth have any time to farm?” He was only a year or two older than Buck, but it seemed he had been away from home quite a lot. Finally, one evening after the evening meal when everyone was preparing for bed, Buck asked Hamreth, how he had time to farm in the midst of all his travels. Hamreth paused for what seemed like an age, and then looked at the ground kicking at the dirt with his toes. When he looked up at Buck he began to speak with tears in his eyes. “You are right, and it has been eating me up. I was hardly ever there.” Buck felt embarrassed, “I didn’t mean to say that you were… I mean, I wasn’t trying to make you…” But Hamreth stopped him, “I know, but it’s the truth and its why I feel so lost and guilty. I always told myself that I wanted to be at home farming, and one day I would spend more time there. But actually when I heard the news, part of me was relieved. Relieved that I didn’t have to go home and sit with a wife I loathed and children I didn’t want. I tried to tell myself that I was outraged and sad, I tried to make myself feel loss, but I actually felt free. I realized that I had been living and telling myself a lie, I didn’t want to go back, I wanted the freedom of a wanderer’s life.” Buck was stunned. He grabbed Hamreth by the shoulder and said, “I understand, thanks for trusting me with this.” Hamreth nodded, and turned to take up his post for the first watch.

That night Buck had a dream. It was the same dream he had when Gwaeron Windstrom, The Tracker Who Never Goes Astray, came to him while tracking a party of orcs. When Buck awoke, he realized that in the morning they would continue East, while the Long Road would strike off North toward Triboar, and the grove where Gwaeron slept. He wondered whether he should take the party north on the Long Road. It wasn’t out of the way exactly, but the Dessarin Road was probably a little quicker, if more dangerous. But what would he do if he went to Gwaeron’s grove? He wasn’t sure, but he felt he should go there. Nevertheless he had a job to do now, get Alora and the party to the High Forest to find her grandmother. But there was nothing keeping them from stopping by Triboar on the way back, was there? After some thought, Buck decided on a compromise. They would go via the Dessarin Road to the High Forest, but they would return via Triboar, and he would visit to grove to help him figure out his path. Who better to guide him on that path than Gwaeron?

“They are all dead.” The words hung in the air as Hamreth tried to keep standing. He had at first been overjoyed to see his neighbor and old friend Gatfrind once again. It seemed like the orc siege had lasted for years. But when his friend recognized him and Gatfrind’s demeanor changed, Hamreth knew something terrible had happened. He had expected Gatfrind to tell him that the farm had been destroyed, or the crops burned by the marauding orcs outside the walls of Waterdeep. But his family and his farm had seen orc attacks in the past. They had always safely made their way to one of the numerous secret spots in the woods and hid out until the danger had passed, as their ancestors had done for generations. But this time, the few survivors from their community reported that the orcs appeared almost instantly with no warning, as if some powerful magic had been on their side. Gatfrind had been off guiding a trade caravan when the attack came or he too might have been killed. As soon as the orcs passed, on their way to the siege at Waterdeep, he had made his way back to look for survivors and was shocked by what he saw. Of their small community spread out over their tiny corner of forest and meadow, only a few dozen of the several hundred farmers, fishermen and their families survived. Gatfrind knew that Hamreth was in Waterdeep when the attack came, so after locating his own wife and children, he immediately set off to make sure Hamreth’s family was safe. But he found only the smoldering remains of Hamreth’s small cottage, and the three skeletons, undoubtedly the remains of Hamreth’s wife Inna, and two children Olgar and Hendrick. Gatfrind helped Hamreth to sit down before the shock overtook him. After a few minutes Gatfrind left Hamreth in the company of Hamreth’s fellow soldiers and took his leave, uncertain of what his friend would do now, with no family or farm to return to, would he become one of the many homeless refugees now flooding into the city, or would he return home to try and rebuild?
The next day, after Hamreth was informed that his services as a temporary soldier were no longer needed, he collected his small payment and set off to the nearest tavern. Hamreth was not a heavy drinker, but he enjoyed a good quaff of mead on occasion. He ordered a large tankard and sat but he couldn’t bring himself to touch his drink. Instead he went from one regret to the next, “Why had he agreed to take the job offered him, guiding a caravan of cloth and trinkets to safety from Daggerford to Waterdeep?” He did not need the money, but he was saving up in the hopes of hiring on extra labor to expand his north field so he wouldn’t have to ever guide another caravan, and could instead stay at home and farm. It wasn’t that he didn’t like working as a scout, and he was one of the best, but he preferred to be at home with his young family and the ancient forests of his ancestors. Or, if he hadn’t waited an extra day once he brought the caravan safely to Waterdeep, he could have made it out before the orc army arrived. But that would have meant taking a note of credit and not cash for his payment. He had never trusted anything but cash. For all the time he spent among merchants, he found them to be quite unbearable, greedy and unaware, always thinking of what could be had in the future instead of recognizing what you had right in front of you.
If only he would have left when he had the chance. But then, would he have survived, wouldn’t he most likely have met the same fate that his family did? Probably, but at least they would be together in Mielike’s care. But then, also he wouldn’t have had the chance to get his vengeance. He already felt glad that he had found a mercenary outfit to join up with to help defend the city. Not because he had a particular love for Waterdeep, but because, even if he didn’t know it at the time, he had dealt a blow to the very orcs who killed his family. As he sat in the tavern, he began to reminisce about the battle to take back the wall, when he had fought with the dawn warriors to strike a blow against evil. He felt somewhat contented, remembering each blow he had struck with his mighty bastard sword. And he remembered looking across the battlefield and seeing the young scout, Buck knee deep in orc corpses, surrounded by hoards of screaming orcs, the young ranger alone except for the giant half orc who fought beside him. He remembered how odd it was to recognize the ranger across the field of battle.
They had only met once or twice previously, Buck and Hamreth had been part of a party of scouts hired to take a load of spices across the High Moors. Or at least they had been told it was spices, they never asked, but were certain there was no reason for them to help deliver three wagons full of spices to a single deserted house in the middle of nowhere. One of the men was certain they were actually corpses and that the house belonged to a necromancer, but they never found out, they were only too happy to go on their way. Hamreth had been impressed when he had worked with Buck. While he was still young and sometimes brash, he had shown good judgement for someone his age. In fact, Buck’s judgement and skill with a blade had helped them dispatch more than one orc band that had intercepted them en route.
As Hamreth relived the battle on the wall, he thought about the well placed arrows he had sent in Buck’s direction, helping him fend off foes he had not yet seen. He thought even then, that after this battle was over, he needed to go find Buck and catch up. But, Hamreth had been badly wounded by an orc archer, and by the time he was feeling better, Buck was nowhere to be seen. As he sat there in the tavern, thoughts of battle, orcs, caravans, his dead family, and his farm all passing through his mind, the only thing that made him feel better was when he remembered the battle on the wall, and foremost in his mind was the fearless bravery shown by Buck. The more he thought about returning home, the more he realized he did not have the strength to do it. The memories of happiness stolen would be too much, a deep feeling of loneliness came over him, for the first time, he realized he was now alone in this world. No brothers or sisters, his parents dead, he was at 20 years old, for the first time in his life, an orphan. An orphan, Buck was an orphan too. He remembered a conversation they had one night about how Buck dealt with the loss of his family, he remembered Buck said something about keeping busy, so he didn’t have time to miss them. It seemed like pretty good advice right now. Then he had an idea, maybe he should go and find Buck. Now that the city was saved, and he had no home to go back to, maybe he could join up with whatever Buck was getting into next. Hamreth was certain it would help him keep his mind of his loss. He drank his tankard in a single swallow, and set off to find Buck, but also to try and find a new purpose for his life, for short of finding the ranger and convincing him to let him join up, he had no plan, and no future.

Kitrick sat perched on the edge of the small railing, his feet dangling over the dark water below. His crew was at work around him. He could hear the carpenter and his mates hammering to close the hole on the port side. He used his knife to carve off a chunk of apple and popped it in his mouth. The sun was hanging low in the western sky. The sea was running smooth with only a heavy thud as it rhythmically slapped against the Riptide’s hull. Heavy footsteps nearby caused him to look over his shoulder. His new first mate, Vorik, stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back.
“What’s the word Mr. Vorik,” Kitrick said with a smile.
“Seems as if the siege in Waterdeep is over. Orcs are headed north again.”
Kitrick frowned. While he was not a proponent of mindless slaughter, he had to admit that the war had certainly helped restored his fortune. He’d taken four rich merchant ships who had been fleeing the city. Now the Waterdhavian fleet would resume normal operations and that was unfortunate.
“Any word about the woman?” Kitrick asked. Vorik sighed.
“Captain,” he began.
“Don’t Captain me, Vorik,” he said with a smile. His eyes narrowed to slits. “You know what I want to know.”
“Word is that the Mooring family has a ship at harbor in Waterdeep and another one inbound.”
Kitrick sprang upright, his face split in a grin.
“Excellent! Let’s be about our business then, shall we?” He turned and looked out over the deck. His men were still fishing waterlogged crates out of the sea. Across the bow he could see the remnants of the merchant vessel, slowly succumbing to the pull of the depths. He could still make out some of the charred timbers from his newest addition. He’d thought long and hard about his defeat at Lila Mooring’s hands and vowed it would not happen again.
“Lay aloft!” he yelled. “Make sail!”
Slowly the bow turned southerly, towards Waterdeep.
Kitrick smiled.

As Halem and Myst wove their way through the tombstones, it was all Halem could do to hold up the feet of the body that had once belonged to Krendon Maw… and his father… and then the elf named Jurisk. He was exhausted and his body didn’t move or act the way he was used to. Of course, he had only been in this body for a few hours, so he felt that his disorientation was excusable.

He stumbled over a small stone and Myst, who was actually carrying most of the body’s weight, made an annoyed grunt.

“Keep up,” she growled.

Halem almost started to remind her that he was her master, but then it occurred to him that with his father back and in the correct body, that was probably no longer the case. The situation was so absurd that he couldn’t help but laugh, which sounded strange in his ears as he realized it was just about the first sounds that had made with this new body. And that made everything even funnier.

“Would you shut up,” Myst hissed back at him without turning around.

Halem let the legs fall from his hands. “This is good enough,” he told her, still chuckling. “I don’t think I can go any farther anyway.”

She gave him a rather cold glare and then dropped her end as well. “Sure, whatever.” She tossed one of the shovels to him. “Start digging. Looks like,” she read the name of the gravestone, “Aron the Scar is getting a new bunkmate.”

Halem wearily began shoveling but it quickly became apparent that Myst was doing most of the work – and she was not terribly pleased about it. Halem didn’t care, he was so drained and so happy that there was very little she could say or think that would bother him at this point. Against all odds, he had brought his father back and – even more incredibly – had been able to return his father’s body to its rightful owner.

He set the shovel down and sat next to the mound of dirt they were creating. Holding his hand in front of him, he examined his new skin. It was oddly copper colored as was his hair. He’d known that he would be a Sun Elf, of course, having seen Jurisk’s body beforehand, but it was still an odd sensation to look at hands that were not his own and have complete control over them. When he had woken to find himself in his father’s body, it had been similarly disconcerting, but at least he and his father had looked similar. In fact, unless he was looking in a mirror or some stray hair fell in his eyes, Halem had not thought much about being in his father’s body. Things were not so easily ignored this time around.

“I’ve become something of a parasite,” he thought aloud. “I keep slipping into other people’s bodies and taking over.”

“Do you think you could use that body to help a little?” Myst asked from the hole she was digging.

“Sure,” Halem replied with a smile, “you need to make it a little longer, Krendon Maw wasn’t this short.”

Myst grumbled something under her breath that did not seem appropriate coming out of a mouth that looked so young, though Halem had no idea how old she really was.

In fact, he didn’t know much about her or his father. When it came right down to it, Halem had known his father was alive for less than two minutes before he died again. He had no idea what Erim was like outside of his childhood memories and his time training with the dark and mysterious master who had tended to be irritating as often as he was helpful.

“What’s he like?” Halem asked Myst who was making the hole a little longer despite her grumbling. “My father, I mean.”

Myst planted her shovel in the ground and looked at Halem for a long moment. In fact, it occurred to Halem that she might not be having an easy time with the body switching either. She’d lost a master, gained a new – and far less experienced – one in the same body, then that master had left her for five years, and upon coming back had only worked with her a little before all hell broke loose in the city. And now, her old master was back in his old body while her new master was now in a new body and asking about the old master…
Halem rubbed his new hands against his new face. It was probably best not to think about it too much. That had been his policy the first time around and it had served him well enough.

“He’s your father,” she said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but I never really knew him. He trained me for a little while, but I didn’t know it was him and I have no idea if that is how he normally acts. You know him better than I do.”

Myst rolled her eyes. “Fine. He’s… bossy, I guess. Kinda a jerk.” She began pacing back and forth in the small grave, beginning to warm to the subject of venting about Erim. “Really, he’s a lot like you, but with less talking and more staring. Lots more staring. Creepy staring, angry staring, all sorts of staring… and some stabbing.”

Halem did his best not to smile. He doubted his father would do it for the same reason, but it was easy to stare at Myst. She was undeniably beautiful. In fact, it was probably a toss up between her and Alora as to who was the most beautiful elf Halem had ever seen, though it was also very difficult to compare the two given how different their personalities were. Myst was darker, more prone to violence, and had a tough exterior that Halem had no idea how to crack. Alora was, usually, gentle and bright, like the sun on a warm spring day.

Thinking of Alora left Halem wondering what she would think of his body jumping. He couldn’t quite tell if her feelings – or perhaps infatuation – had more to do with his appearance or with him personally. If her interest was only skin deep, he would probably need to warn his father to stay away from the orphanage.

“But I guess he’s better than my Aunty was,” Myst continued, unaware of Halem’s wandering thoughts, “ except, sometimes he shows me something once and then forces me to do it over and over and makes me feel pathetic when I don’t get it perfect! He only shows it once! Who could possibly learn something that quickly?”

Well, Halem thought, I guess he wasn’t just messing with me when he trained me. What Myst was describing was almost exactly what Halem had gone through during his abbreviated training sessions.
“Who was your Aunt?”

“None of your business.” Myst paused for a few seconds, then went back to pacing, picking her rant back up, “Once, he made me hang from a wall for three hours. Three hours! And then he drilled me on knife throwing. Have you ever tried throwing a knife when your fingers have been holding your weight for that long? It’s impossible! He made me keep doing it until I got it right. It took the rest of the night and I couldn’t lift my arms for two days!”

Halem decided that it would be best not to compare horror stories of Erim’s training methods. She would clearly win.

“Did he take you on many missions?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure if I should have done some with you but I’d never even done one myself, so it didn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Missions?” she looked confused. “Like jobs? Psh, not really. He always said I’d just get in his way.”
“What about with Prim, do you get to work with her?”

“No, Erim wouldn’t let me. Plus, she… she probably wouldn’t let someone like me work with her. I’m practically a baby compared to her.”

“I guess that makes two of us. Maybe we can work a job or two together, you know, get our feet wet.”
“Or our hands bloody.”

“Uh, sure, but let’s not put it that way in front of my friends.”

“You mean the crybabies who wouldn’t even let you take the body of someone on a death row sentence so you could save your own father?” She rolled her eyes. “Sure, let’s worry about what they think.”

“I do worry about what they think,” Halem retorted, though a moment of honesty forced him to add, “sometimes.”

“Fine, whatever,” Myst shrugged, “If you’re rested up enough, princess, why don’t you held me drop the body in the hole so we can get out of here.”

Halem nodded. Without agreeing on it, the two checked the body for any items that might be better in their hands than buried in a hole. Halem had already taken most of it, but they did find a small dagger tucked in an ankle sheath that Halem hadn’t bothered grabbing previously and Halem noticed that there was an odd bulge around the index finger on the right hand. Had the rest of the body not been in such perfect shape, he would have assumed that it was some old injury or a deformity. He frowned and pushed against it, it moved slightly and he noticed that it was perfectly circular. There was no way this was from some past injury. He plucked the dagger out of Myst’s hands and cut the finger off. He pushed on the object again and a ring slid out from under the skin on the severed finger. Halem had seen this ring many times, but not on Krendon Maw’s body. It had belonged to Kevros.

“Did you find something good?” Myst asked.

“Just something that belonged to a friend,” Halem replied as he gave Krendon a hard kick that sent the body tumbling into the hole.

Halem looked down at the body of the man who had twisted his friend and ultimately led him to his death. He spit into the hole. “Enjoy the Wall, bastard,” he growled and then picked up his shovel to start filling in the grave. Myst contemplated him for a moment and then joined him.

“So, how long has the thing with Prim been… a thing?” Halem asked once the hole was almost completely full. He needed something to pull his mind away from the loss of Kevros.

“A thing? I don’t know, a while.”

“What are the chances that she stabs him when he tries to tell her that he’s back?”

Myst shook her head. “Zero. She’s a lot less stabby than your dad. She’d rather make people suffer if they cross her and he wouldn’t do that. I think she’ll be happy that he’s back, once she’s sure that you aren’t just messing with her.”

They finished filling the hole and leaned against their shovels, resting for a moment.

“So,” Halem began, “wh-”

“What’s your deal?” Prim cut him off. “Why are you being so nosy? Can’t you just be glad that your dad is back?”

He thought about it. “I am glad, but… I don’t really know him, but I’ve spent my entire life looking up to him, trying to make him proud. Now I’ll actually get to know him, the real him, and I just…”

“You think you might be disappointed?”

Halem shrugged, not liking the way she had put it. “Forget it, let’s just go back. You’re right, I’m being nosy when I should just be happy.”

One thing he appreciated about Myst was that she never pried, about anything. He said forget it, so she dropped the subject and started walking back towards the crypt. Halem followed behind, feeling almost like a little boy trailing behind his mother. He spent the entire walk back thinking about what Myst had said and wondering if she might be right.

They entered the crypt and headed down the secret passage. Lila was gone and there was no sign of the others. Erim, however, was sitting quietly, something almost like a smile on his face.

“We finished,” Myst informed him in a voice that said she hadn’t appreciated the chore. “Halem wasn’t very helpful.”

Erim stared at her with an expression that immediately shut her up. Halem could see why she would complain about the staring. It unnerved him and he wasn’t even on the receiving end. Taking a cue from his father he sat down and remained silent. His eyes met Myst’s and she shook her head as if to say “I told you so.”

The three of them sat in silence for almost ten minutes before Halem could hold in his questions no longer. “I get that it’s been a bit of a messed up day, but I have a lot of things to ask you.”

Erim didn’t reply or even respond beyond shifting his eyes from the wall to Halem.

Since his father hadn’t given any sign that he wasn’t allowed to ask, Halem let the floodgates open. “Did you know mother was a drow? My grandmother said that you helped them kill her, is it true? Did you know about her room above our store? Did-”

The first few questions had rolled over Erim without earning even the slightest reaction, but the last question caused his eyes to narrow. “What room?”

“There’s a secret room, behind a wall panel. She has some crazy drow symbols all over it. When I put my blood on it – and, I guess, your blood too, for some reason – it activates some runes and she talks to me… but she hasn’t been very helpful.”

Erim’s brows furrowed. “She can talk to you?”

“If you put aside the times when I didn’t know I was talking to you, I’ve had more conversations with her than with you in the last eight years. Mostly she just wants me to help the drow win or get her a new body.”
“That’s very dangerous,” Erim said, “I didn’t know what your mother was when I met her and I did love her dearly, but she is what she is and you can’t trust her. If her soul is in those runes, you should not be messing with them. We need to go and take a look at them.” He started to rise, then stopped and lowered himself into a seated position again. “But not tonight.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room and went on for several minutes. Finally, Halem asked, “Why didn’t you keep me with you? Or at the very least come and get me when you were ready? I assume you had some reason for faking your death, but…“ he glanced at Myst and said, “You took Myst as an apprentice and left me at the orphanage.”

Erim almost seemed to smile. “Myst? I had to take her on because of a debt, but I couldn’t risk bringing you into my world then. There were too many people who would have killed you or used you as a way to get to me.”

Halem thought there might be a hint of pride in his father’s eyes, but he over a decade out of practice in reading his father’s emotions and couldn’t be sure.

“You learned on your own and can take care of yourself,” Erim continued. Myst choked down a laugh and Halem shot her an annoyed look. “I’ll be able to teach you more now that you are older.”

“And,” he added, “I’ll show you the safe houses I have around the city and tell you about the others. I should have done it earlier, but… I suppose we should say that the timing didn’t work out. I’ll also talk to Arthur and get you admitted into the Exchange on your own.”

Halem started to ask another question, but Erim held up his hand to silence him. “I know you have a lot of questions. I’ll answer them if I can, but no more tonight.”

“Just one more.”

Erim shook his head and really did smile at last. “It is very weird seeing another man’s face making the expression that my little son used to try on me when he wanted to stay up an extra hour after his bedtime. Fine, fine. What’s your question?”

“Can I have my weapons back?” Halem asked with a grin. “You seem to have… all of them.”

Erim stood and drew Halem’s two short swords. He twirled them expertly with a grace and ease that even Halem could not have matched, then flipped them around and tossed them to his son. “These are fine blades. Don’t lose them again.”

Halem accepted them with a smile. “I didn’t lose them, I just lost the body they were attached to.”

“Then let’s not lose that either.”

Being cursed by the fairies was the last straw for Alora. An imperfect ending to an overall trying day. Her best friend was angry at her. She had been forced to a moral quandary that divided her friends. Her beloved cat had disappeared, only to come back with news that she was being hunted for a murder she did not commit. She had been punched twice in the face by an aggressive tree. Oh, and there was a bloody undead werewolf on the lam.
The rising cloud of fairies made a halo around her head, chanting and dancing as they swayed in the wind. Their tiny feet lightly touch her shoulders and wings beating against her hair. “Curse you, curse you oh witch! May you never speak the language of this people until atonement! Curse you…lnvpqeruf curse you! ls dcoqiwbe lwibepqiyw witchasncw atonement! sdvpweir wkejfbpqiwef…” The beautiful words slowly faded into obscurity. And a mantle settled on her shoulders, an uncomfortable itch crawling up her neck and burrowing into her skull. The chanting stopped and a green fairy dropped on her knee. With a dismissive flick of the eye, he bid her to leave the glade.
Alora loved fairies. She liked their bright colors and charming personalities. She enjoyed their curiosity and zeal for life. They danced, they sang, and were generally merry. The fey even liked her dancing…no one appreciated her dancing! And now they hated her. They thought she killed their princess. Like a slow boil, it started in her stomach. As she apologized again and walked towards the portal, it creeped up her chest. Watching Buck’s back disappear, Alora felt the heat rise up her neck. As she stepped through, her hair uncoiled and stood on end.
Rage. What an odd emotion. She experienced plenty of annoyances and petty anger. Vanity and sullenness. But such rage was something different. It made her mind cloudy in a way she had never experienced, unable to function until an object of her emotions centered on a single, unfortunate person. Her breaths short. Her spine tightening and relaxing. Her whole body pulsed with action. Memories building silently in her mind, replaying events over and over. She had witnessed the rages of her friends before. Dun was particularly prone. His anger at times seemed endless, making the elf feel a sense of hopelessness for the druid.
“Well…that wasn’t as bad as I thought,” Buck mused as he scanned the area. In a calm corner of her mind, Alora wondered if the ranger had noticed his small passenger nestled in the curls of his hair. The fairy appeared to be mindlessly pointing the human with a twig.
“Where is he?”
“Where is who?” Buck glanced at the elf, only to do a double take at the feral expression on her face.
“Hey there, woh take it easy. Maybe we should—“ Alora swung towards him, hissing. The ranger stepped back, surprised. She took off towards the crypt.

A slight glow illuminated the small mausoleum. The light bouncing off the stones, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the two figures that stood there. If Alora had more control over her emotions, she would have witnessed a silent but tense Lila, the sorcerer’s gaze locked on other figure.
“YOU!” Alora screeched loud enough to startle the dead. As she marched forward, her hair seeming to grow in size, looking like the hood of a angry cobra. Lila attempted to cut off the witch but the enraged elf nimbly sidestepped.
Waving her finger at Halem, Alora screamed, “You! How dare you! Who do you think you are, Mr. I’m-so-dark-and-mysterious! Mr. Assassin-Stabby-stab! I was just accosted by enraged group of fairies who believe that I was to blame for murdering their princess! Even though I died too when Mr. Look-at-me-I-am-so powerful decided it would be a fantastic idea to transform into a stupid dragon and sit on your friends! That’s how I died, You Sat On Me! My last memory is off your butt crushing me to death! And now I’m CURSED! A witch, CURSED!”
The figure just silently stared back at her. Buck came rushing in, took one look, and decided the best course of action would be to save Alora from herself. He grabbed her and began to drag her away.
“What’s this! Back off Buck, I have words I need say to that foolish man!”
“Later.”
“Enough of this! Release…let me go…I am warning you…SLEEP!”
The ranger gritted his teeth and glared at his friend. But he had stopped moving. Lila murmured, “Alora, maybe this isn’t the best time—“
“NO! He is getting a piece of my mind!” She stomped back towards Halem. “Did you even think before you decided to turn into a animal that weighs several tons in the middle of a battle?! Or about exploring an underground cavern with an idiot gnome while I and two innocent orphans waited in the dark?! Or then setting off a stampede of scarabs that almost devoured us?! Or killing a fey princess!? Or Not even asking me out on a date!….No, you clearly did not think of these things! AND now I’m cursed! Cursed by the only people who actually liked my dancing!”
Alora took a deep breath. As she glared at the elf, she began to notice how quiet it was in the tomb…and how quiet Halem was. He simply looked her. No goofy expression on his face. No apology. No emotion really. And just as her rage descended to a manageable level, she realized that her instincts had been screaming at her the minute she entered this place. This man, with no expression, was dangerous. And worse…
“You’re not Halem, are you?” She whispered. The elf who wore Halem’s body shook his head.
And just like that, the bottom dropped out. All the emotion and energy that she had been carrying was released and she was standing on the edge of vast nothingness. Despair was all she knew. She didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. Not to Halem, the bad boy she had watched for so long. Not to life she knew before her death. Not to her mother…her breath caught. When she had come back, there had been so much else going on, other issues to worry about. The Wall, the Drow, the Abbott, the enormous Orc army… and now that respite had come, she had nothing to distract her from thoughts of her mother, stuck somewhere in oblivion, trapped between life and death. Tears welled. She had only she found her, only to lose that bond. Alora did not know if she would ever see her mother again. Or if her last memory would be that of her reaching out grab hold of ghost.
The crying surprised everyone in the tomb, even the deadly assassin. Even as Buck reached out unsure hand, the elf threw herself into the arms of not-Halem. Bubbling out an apology between wails, Alora cried on his shoulder, refusing to let go.
“Drink this.” Not-Halem finally said to her.
“What?” She looked up, confused.
“Drink this.” He motioned towards a vial of dark liquid.
“What will it do?” She asked. He just stared back. Shrugging her shoulders, she drained the vial and immediate passed out on the floor. With a wary glance at the assassin, Buck carried the Alora out of the tomb, with a silent Lila following behind.
The elf suddenly smiled…silence.

A moment frozen in time.

The orc priest’s head was flung back, his eyes weeping tears of blood. His nose was a river of blood. His mouth gaped, shouting to his god. The backdrop of the deep night, speckled with stars, split only by weak yellow torch light on a wall of stone. A battle raged on top of a tower wall. Three friends strove against a superior number of orcs. Thurg the Giantslayer, cast down on his back, his powerful magic flail lost amidst the feet and fury. The unholy words of the priest echoed in his ears. Halem, his shortswords a blur as they parried and thrust against the three orcs in close quarters. His efforts barely able to keep the darting enemy weapons from Thurg’s throat. The witch Alora, nimbly dancing backwards into thin air, her hair billowing around her in a corona. None of them able to hear the warning of their friend from inside the tower.

Hyacinth, the gnome mage who loved books more than anything. She heard the terrible power in the orc priest’s words and instinctively yelled a warning to her friends. None of them heard. Buck, the mighty ranger, reveled in the fight against his hated foes. His own sword, Banebringer, flashed and hummed as he fought. But then Hyacinth’s warning cry echoed in the tower they fought and he turned, listening to the powerful spell being cast by the orc but with no idea what was about to happen. Lila, the sorcerer with so much power, alone grasped Hyacinth’s warning. She took hold of the soft, fluttering edge of her new cloak and threw it around herself and Buck and Hyacinth. There was a clap of thunder and a flash of colored smoke and the three disappeared just as the wall began to shake in earnest.

Alora hung in the air, horrified, as a hundred foot section of the outer defensive wall of Waterdeep, unbreached in over a hundred years, shuddered, cracked and began a slow fall. The tower that Thurg and Halem stood atop of seemed to hover in the air for a moment, and then crumbled. The center collapsed and was quickly followed by the outer walls. Pieces of masonry of all sizes clattered against each other, the noise rolling over those watching.

Halem found himself atop a flat piece of roof as it slid down an avalanche of stone. His keen eyesight and reflexes served him well. As the roof piece began to flip, he jumped up and to his left, landing on a piece of wrought iron, he had no idea where it came from, and immediately jumped again as a block of stone as large as a house smashed down at him. His slippers of spider-climbing grasped the side of the house block and he raced upward in a delicate dance.

Thurg had no such luck. The massive half-orc tumbled. His head struck a battlement, his eyes going dim from the force of the impact. When he could see next, he found himself upside down, stone, dust, orcs and men scattered around him like falling rain.

Atop the next tower, Lila, Buck and Hyacinth appeared with another flash and peal of sound. The ground beneath their feet lurched and shuddered but the wall beneath them remained standing. The could see little of their friends in the darkness. Only the sounds of men and orcs crying out and the cacophony of rocks smashing against each other. The noise continued to grow until it was a physical force, clashing against the ears and exposed flesh of everyone within earshot. Thurg’s head collided with a massive block of stone and everything went dark. Halem, miraculously, rode the entire collapsing wall of stone as it spread out in a wide swath on the field of green-brown grass, emerging covered in dust but completely unscathed. Alora swooped down to him and together they began a frantic search for Thurg. Donnchadha, who had watched with keen avian eyes, swept down as Alora and Halem found Thurg’s body trapped, unresponsive, under a block of stone.

Together the group managed to free their fallen friend and with the help of their healing magic, brought him back once more from the brink of death. Later, as they sat in the rubble of the wall, the sprinkles of rain became a soft downpour. None of the Dawn Warriors moved. They simply sat, exhausted, and enjoyed the long absent sound of rain on the grass. To the north, a black smudge retreated towards the towering mountains that lay hidden by the night. The City of Splendors was safe once more.

Halem sat silently in the midst of all the damage and chaos. He tried focusing all of his attention on his father. Others would probably find the idea that this human was actually his father confusing, but Halem had had spent a number of years getting used to the idea of being in a different body. His mind was already making the adjustment to seeing this body that once contained a hated enemy as his father returned from the dead.

A less easy adjustment was in dealing with what he had inadvertently done with his final wish.

It had seemed like a good idea, as so many disastrous mistakes do. He had thought he would grow into a dragon, pushing his friends out of the way as he did. He hadn’t thought that he would… hadn’t considered that he could kill…

“I’m so sorry, Alora,” he whispered. “I didn’t…”

He wanted to grumble, to point out that he had been against the plan of going in through the front doors. He wanted to say that his friends should bear some of the blame for being so stupid, but that was unfair to them and an obvious attempt to shift the blame from where it truly lay: on him.

He would not dishonor his fallen friend by shying away from his culpability in her death.
Alora was… she was special. Like a little sister he’d never had. During so many of their adventures, he’d tried to guide and protect her. She annoyed him and drove him crazy at times, but he didn’t hate it the way he pretended to. In some way, she was very much like Kevros, another friend that he had not protected as he ought to have.

“Halem,” Lila called softly from the doorway. “We need to go. Can Kren… I mean, can your dad, walk?”

Halem looked down at his father and shook his head. “No, I’ll have to carry him for now.”

Thurg walked around him and hefted the petrified form of the Abbot with barely a grunt of exertion and began carrying him towards the remains of the front door. Halem helped his father up and then lifted the almost completely unresponsive human into his arms. Krendon Maw’s body was heavier than an elf’s would have been, but nothing that Halem couldn’t handle with ease.

As they exited the ruins of the Temple of Ilmater, a building that had been a place of healing and rest and safety for much of his adult life, Halem couldn’t stop his eyes from settling onto the red stain on the ground near the door. That was his fault; his doing. He’d killed one of his best friends and had felt her die against his suddenly massive side. The corresponding spot on his body still seemed to burn, he could almost still feel her there.

In a different situation, at a different time, he might have given in to the desire to be sick all over the floor. He would certainly have allowed himself to curl up into a little ball of pain and misery and self-loathing. But this was not that time and he was no longer the sort to do such things, at least not when there was a job that needed completing. He would help save Waterdeep – and Kevros, if he could – and then he would devote himself to bringing Alora back. Her death was on his head and he would not let that stand.

He glanced down at his father and almost felt a smile tug at his lips. If he could bring his father back after all this time, bringing Alora back was possible. If not, then he would die trying and spend his afterlife apologizing to her…

Maybe he’d even let her in on his hair-care secrets.

The first steps through the barrier the Dawn Warriors felt the simultaneous rush of something familiar and something completely alien. The street that they emerged onto was familiar to them. Many times they had tread its worn cobblestones, often after a visit to the temple of Ilmater or perhaps after a visit to Waterdeep’s great market. But beyond the physical familiarity there was a deep layer of foreignness to the place. The most striking difference between the current cityscape and the Waterdeep of days past, was the hush that settled around them. No birds swooped and cawed. No carts trundled past, the wheels clacking on the stone. Where there would usually be orphans or small children walking with their parents, there was nothing. Lila specifically remembered a pastry merchant that she had visited with Pan and Halem but instead of rich sweet-pies there was only a shattered window, flakes of ash and silence.
Their careful progress lead them down the street, over an abandoned, makeshift barrier of wagon wheels and barrels, until they stood only a hundred meters from the temple of Ilmater. Thurg’s keen eyesight picked out what looked like thirty or forty corpses, strewn at the bottom of the sweeping steps that lead up to the temple’s entryway. It was hard to make out what they were. The light seeping through the shadow barrier had grown dimmer since they had last stood under it. Lila and Dunnchadha shared a glance, each remembering their stay in the shadow realm just the day before.
Halem’s eyes darted around the scene, examining the alleys and cross streets that represented the most easy exit should they be needed. He started with a sudden realization.
“Guys, the shadows are gone,” the lean elf said.
The rest of the group glanced around, nodding. It was true. Where there had been hundreds of the shadows in the streets before, there were now none to be found. Buck, knelt down to examine the ground, his hand gliding over the street.
“Something isn’t right. I’m fairly certain that some of these stones were crushed recently.”
“By what,” Hyacinth asked. Buck stood.
“Something big.”
Alora snorted. “Great. Something else that probably wants to kill us.” She flipped her hair in annoyance.
A flash of something flying overheard drew their gaze. On the other side of the barrier, high above, a trio of griffins flew back and forth. Their Waterdeep livery was edged with silver and their lances sparkled even through the dimness of the shadow.
The priests of Mystra huddled together at the back of the group, their young faces uncertain.
“What are we going to do?” the oldest Priest, a young man with shockingly black hair, asked.