Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The containing device?
PART FIVE: BOUND

No sooner had we stepped through the portal than the frozen tears melted, finishing their trail down my face. They evaporated quickly, and we drank up the warmth. Our stinging limbs protested. We gagged on the stench. More corpses littered the ground. These were little more than burnt and brittle bones.

There was a binding circle with red light around it. One with blue and yellow. The red circle held some non-descript, long forgotten soul. Weak and lost to this place. My heart broke for what or who it may have once been. The blue circle was empty and inactive. The yellow circle… Held Joan and… Valqis! How in the name of Mercy did she get there?! Here… wherever here was.

At the fringes of the cavern were more souls, fluttering and silent. Dominating the cavern was a huge, menacing demon, held at bay by a purple ring and wall of force similar to the others. The whole place hummed with energy. It felt… as though loss, sadness, hate… fear… it permeated everything.

I could hear Joan and Val pleading for an exit… something… anything. Siomir sought to reassure them, as did Tessian once his body recovered from the cold. There were two portals too at the foot of one was an amethyst and another was book. I looked over each. At each thing. And then my eyes met the Demon’s. It was… not An’grath, but a representation? Or what it him? I could not tell truly. I spoke first. His voice echoed through our minds, angry and full of malice.

‘You! You should not be here! You -will- let them go!’

‘Or… you will what?’

He leered at me.

‘Is this the one we hunt?’

I looked to Kliron and shrugged unsure. What did it matter… if this was my head, and it was a demon… then by all that was Mercy we should keep killing demons until we run out of demons. If this was my head… it seemed… strange. Even for my own nightmare-twisted, wizard-scrambled, maze of thoughts.

‘I will do as needs must!’

I spat at the grinning demon. Val and Joan’s pleas tugged at my very soul, but I concentrated at the task at hand. To get them out… we would have to figure it out. I had not doubt that the demon and the panel in front of me were some sort of key to it all to. The board seemed connected to that which held the demon in place. There was an empty slot… purple. A yellow slot with a piece of yellow topaz, a red slot with a ruby, and a blue slot with a sapphire. I studied it and the Demon sneered maliciously.

‘That’s right…’

‘It's usually best not to touch anything if the demon wants you to…’

What was it that struck an angry cord with me? All the stress of the past? This whole mess? Was it the emotional exchange between Joan and Siomir? Val’s pleadings, Tessian’s urgings for caution? The demon’s own haughty attitude? If it was An’grath… it was An’grath the Bound rather than Unbound.

“And you've had it in your head for all this time? Bound like an infant... with barely a complaint? That's not simply incredible. that's bloody impossible.”

Firavain’s words echoed through my thoughts. I glared up at the demon.

‘You will be silent!’

I snapped at him. The demon regarded me quietly as we studied the room. It looked bored. Suddenly he looked up and seemed to concentrate. Somewhere above us… I heard Xun scream in rage and then pain. A knot twisted in my stomach.

‘I do so love to spar... with the elf... now and then.’

Siomir glowered at the demon coldly.

‘Spar with me... and find your way home.’

The demon waved his massive hand and smiled at Siomir.

‘By all means, I despise this place.’

I continued to study the device until I felt the demon’s eyes on me again. I glanced up. When my eyes met his he spoke.

‘Release me. This is your prison.’

Before I could offer a retort, Rith and Kliron drew my attention to a dead Thayan. In his hand, an ashen shape of what once must have been a gem of some sort. Had he tried to free the demon? Typical blasted Thayan! Free the demon for more power… rest of the world be damned to the Hells.

As time had passed… the barrier containing the demon slowly faded some… the machine hummed to life, and with an agonizing shriek the soul in the red barrier began to flail about. The demon too flailed against the weakening walls of his own prison.

‘DAMN YOU! I WILL NOT BE BOUND!’

With a sound unlike any other expression of pain and horror that I have ever heard, the soul in the red barrier faded away into nothingness… as the barrier about the demon glowed brighter. So that was what Xun had meant. The souls fed the barrier. To free Joan and Val we would have to find a way to deactivate the circles… either by destroying the demon or making his containment self sufficient. I studied the device looking for some sort of writing. Scoured my thoughts for something useful. My eyes fell again on the formless souls drifting at the edges of the cavern.

I approached cautiously. Not wholly sure what to expect. They didn’t seem hostile. One drifted closer. I fought the instinct to draw away even as its touch left me with a horrifying sense of loss, emptiness. I knew without needing to be told that these were all souls taken by the Soulkeep. I prayed. It was so overwhelmingly hopeless… Mercy of Ilmater, give them some sort of peace… some sort of comfort. None of them deserved to be here… The urge to give up was almost overpowering before the spirit released its hold. It was not that they wished to make my task difficult… but they had been in this place for so long with nothing to look forward to but the windings of the mind they were stuck in, the ever present threat of the abyss and the hells… or consummation to keep the demon bound.

It lifted a wary tendril to the red circle. Almost as if to say: What should you care?! That is our fate… that is our place… there is no point. But I looked to it… pleadingly, prayerfully, I spoke.

‘You do not wish to be here.. this is not your place... help me so it can be destroyed, so it can be ended. Please. I need to understand this... that binds him. I need to know how to you, how to help my friends… my sister.’

For a moment it regarded me formlessly. Silent. It snaked around me. Kliron regarded it distrustfully. The overwhelming loss and despair as it turned its formless focus on the circles, was nearly enough to undo me. My knees buckled. Tessian, who had been reassuring Val and Joan, was suddenly at my side. His arm in mine, holding me up. Mister Morale Boost. We walked to the red circle. It permeated with the same sense of loss and pain.

‘It drains them…’

There was a bright flash, and the once empty barrier held another soul. It beat weakly against its new prison, and I watched horrified as it was consumed. This renewed our efforts to stop it. Through some trial and error, that for a brief time nearly had Joan and Val next in line… We worked with the gems and the barriers. I then worried as we had not yet found an answer… and the other souls had been consumed. My prayers became more urgent. Through more trial and error, I got the purple motif on the panel to light.

The demon screeched and howled in rage and agony. It was feeding off of the demon. Rith laughed, Siomir looked over to grin at the demon’s pained form. Tessian shuddered at the sound, the Watchman… watched… I stood there… wondering how to get Joan and Val out. Their panicked pleas and plaintive wishes for freedom, shredding my heart. I wondered then how I would ever make it through this.

Faith…

It was a gentle whisper in my thoughts. Jonas? It had to be. Faith is strength.

Hope…

There is always Hope.

Love…

Love transcends and endures.

Mercy…

In the end there is only Mercy.

We went back to the device. The demon had a bit of respite as the purple gem had turned to ash. Without the stone… it couldn’t draw on the demon, and it would turn to them. Odd how the power of the mind works. Through some great strength of will I didn’t know I possessed, I pulled from my pocket an amethyst. It glinted in the light of the device. With purpose I placed it in as Rith and Tessian pulled the other gems out. First the red gem out. The red circle lights and then fades. Then the yellow one… finally the blue circle. The demon starts to scream. As it rises to an earth-splitting roar, Siomir lands a blow on the now weakened barrier that shatters it. A sound like breaking glass almost lost as the demon roars.

As Joan and Val tumble out of the way, the barriers reform as the demon howls. Our joy at their freedom was a sharp contrast to the demon’s agony. Hugs, relief, confusion, joy and laughter rippled through us as the demon screamed in anger and pain. We watched a long moment. Eventually the device had gathered enough energy to keep the demon contained… that or the demon was too weak to fight much. An’grath the bound dragged himself to his feet, regarded us with a rage that ran my blood colder…

‘Just leave it. It is self sustaining. We should find a way out of here. It can feed off the demon forever or until the demon is destroyed.’

‘Or… Until someone else comes in and sets it free.'

‘Its my mind right? How can they get in.’

Siomir gestured at all the corpses… drawing to focus the very truth of it. The demon… weak as he was laughed. In truth… I was no longer certain how much it was still my own mind. In fact… How many nightmares had been -nightmares-, fragments of thoughts and memories in subconscious… and how many were the interactions of -trapped souls-…? I shuddered at the very thought. The demon drew himself to full height. He grinned broadly at me, malicious and cruel… I glared scathingly. It wasn’t so much my mind… somehow… Firavain and Dajala were right. He had made me the vessel of Soulkeep. Thrice damned Thayan. The reason they did not seek an amulet is because there was no amulet… I was starting to think that was a memory placed there to further protect Soulkeep… Me.

This wasn’t my mind. Fragments of my own thoughts perhaps yes… but in this place… I was on unfamiliar… twisted… ground… meant to keep even me in. The demon lashed at his prison. My trailing thoughts tried to make sense of it all, and despite the gentle reassurances of Tessian, Siomir and the others… I could not help but be very… very afraid. Plane-shifting is impossible in Candlekeep. So what started in my mind… had ended in Soulkeep. Soulkeep was not some trinket… -I- Was. We were somehow within the confines of my mind… that wasn’t entirely my mind. I was always told magic was difficult to wrap one’s mind around… this was just… boggling.

I looked at the place where the flailing demon stood… there on the floor… drawn on the black surface was a door… a literal drawn door in glowing blue runes.

‘The Servant is the Map and the Servant is the Key… to open the Obsidian door to eternity…’

The demon wailed against the barrier with his sword.

‘I think its time to prepare.’

Another hammering blow. The device began to flicker.

‘Be Brave Meri.’

Val said as she drew her axe. A titanic crash and the device began to fizzle… the barrier faltered. The demon grinned down at me.

‘I suggest we all get back.’

Another blow… the demon abandoned the sword as the barrier wobbled dangerously.

‘Come on Ugly!’

Joan raised her sword menacingly. We took our positions and readied for battle as the demon threw its massive skull at the barrier in one last cry of rage and pain… with a fury he crashed through. The fighting was fierce. As the demon fell in a fiery heap of anguish… the whole room went still… the magic faded from it, save for the blue glowing door on the blackened bit of floor. Over our heads, as we stood in our victory, I heard a chime. We looked up in varying states of relief and dread. A familiar voice sharply drew my eyes back to the rune-door.

‘Bravo! That... was unexpected. I can't believe you actually tried to -kill- the demon!’

Xun laughed at our shocked expressions. Something very familiar flashed in his eyes. That warmth, so very familiar when we outwitted the Matron. That joy. The satisfaction of success. I smiled.

‘Brave fools, but you got the job done… I keep my promise…’

He grinned and flickered away. Gone in a flash. Joan of course was very upset that he had indirectly tried to kill her, though I blamed Xun less than the Thayan… and the Demon. None the less… behind us a portal opened. The way onward was ours to seek. Once again… we stepped through a portal. Once again, the world around us seemed to shift into the unknown. Until there before us stood a massive tower and somewhere within… the next challenge.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Tower
PART SIX: METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING OF COURSE

The meadow on which it stood was decidable peaceful, save for the footsteps of the absolutely gargantuan golem stomping about. The behemoth didn’t attack, but instead lead us wordlessly to the tower, and unlocked the door. I couldn’t be certain, but I would swear I heard it lock the door behind us. No back tracking here. No room for mistakes. Careful. More careful than I was.

The hall was dimly lit. Full of dust. From outside, an unnatural light pulsed through the windows. Here too there were Skeletons. Dust laden some of them. Some so old they crumbled as we walked past, others so new… the flesh still clung to the joints. It was a sickening thought. My mind. And it wasn’t even my own. I mean I had heard the saying ‘Skeletons in the closet’ but this was getting outright ridiculous. There were symbols of Ilmater lining the hall, seeming out of place in the dismal carnage… or perhaps not. Is it not in our darkest moments that we need our faith the most?

It felt… familiar… but it was un-placed in my thoughts at present. I could not say it resembled any one place from the past, but many all together, fragments in pieces. I opened my mind and eyes, seeking the metaphor, instinctively waiting for the puzzle to reveal itself. Jonas was there too all of the sudden, and very confused. We all were, and it was my puzzle.

The hall smelled of books and dust, choking and stale. As though untouched for far too long. Among the litter of bodies, was a hammer, and a neatly unrolled scroll. Ahead of that, six small plinths, each with a nail sticking up from it.
I eyed the large iron sledgehammer warily, and then the nails. Deciding it best not to rush overmuch, we looked around. There were some more recent corpses. It looked like they had fought each other. One of the corpses had a journal on it. Thayan by the look of it. It referred to something as “the Device” and spoke of the group of wizard’s journey through it. It seems the author and the counterparts were getting increasingly paranoid… which explained the stab wounds. They had turned on each other and killed one another. This group at least. My eyes drifted over the other corpses a moment. The last entry… blood splattered, read simply: "I told them, nothing is as it seems!”

Six nails… six of us. One plinth was damaged as though it had been struck. ‘Seems like nails…’ Seems. We all wondered, but none had the want to strike a nail and find out. There were six doors leading out of the hall, all locked. To get further we would have to find a key.

So our eyes wandered. There were many books to read. One of them was the book Val wrote about her home. One was brought to me by Siomir. In -under common- First Boy of House Do’anna. I recognized it. A short and ramblingly detailed text on the politics of Chad Nassad. I tucked it away with the other books I had found.

‘Why don't we just try a door?’

‘No! Never ever just -try- a door.’

I sounded much more worried than I had intended… I practically yelled at Joan. Where did the edge come from?

‘Now that's just an odd bit of symbolism…’

I glanced from Joan to the others.

‘It is just… well… as many things as I keep... Well some of it… It just isn’t a good idea… I mean… just… never just… ‘try a door.’

I rambled haltingly. I should trust them. What was I so afraid they would learn? That for a year I was a harlot? Some fat pig’s dirty little secret? His reprieve from his dear wife? Oh how I hated that man. He didn’t purchase a slave. He -bought- a mistress he didn’t have to pay for so extravagantly. Was I afraid they would learn that I poisoned his wife and buried a dagger in his gut in a fit of rage… once for every time he ever touched me? Afraid they would find out that I wasn’t as strong as I looked… that they would find out how scared I really was, how bitter, how some moments I am so consumed by sadness that it takes all the faith I possess to crawl from that bitter hole? What was I afraid of?

‘Meri... are you the sort to shove things into closets?’

‘Some things are forgotten... others are simply.... not remembered. Sometimes it is better that way.’

He then passed me a book titled ‘Tessian’, saying he didn’t think he would read that one. Another on the trip to Amn… recounting the details of the trip so clearly I could almost see the whole ordeal. I closed my eyes against the onslaught of thoughts. Even dead that man still gave me the creeps. Either way I tucked both books away.

Kliron called me over to look at a blank book. However, the longer I studied it… words became clear on the pages. A buried thought… Ian. An entire accounting of every moment that lead to his death… I glanced at the Watchman, who promptly snapped the book shut.

‘A finished story…’

‘But not a forgotten one.’

I wasn’t even sure it was a finished one. We turned just in time to see Joan move to smash a nail with her shield.

‘Joan! No don’t--’

Suddenly it became very clear why they had turned on each other. As Joan struck the nail in the plinth… it bent, and as the nail bent… Siomir fell to the ground unconscious. Rith of course got very… -very- upset/defensive. Siomir looked to be in pain. I called a healing prayer, but it had no perceivable effect.

‘Bloody Hells!’

‘What did you Do?!’

Rith screamed at Joan. This just went… very dangerously beyond my own control.

‘Calm down Rith... anger serves nothing here.’

‘Calm down?! the promise I got was nothing were to happen to him! may not serve anyone. But I'm here Just for him! No one else!’

I winced at her words. Joan bent to try to help Siomir as Rith started looking at the nails… no doubt to take out her anger on one of them. Kliron spoke of subduing the hot-tempered, Elven sorceress. Jonas had disappeared, awakened from the place, though I still felt his presence. I didn’t know where Dajala had gone. I had not seen her for some time, and was worried. Tessian had busied himself reading through the books that didn’t crumble.

Hesitantly I looked at the bent nail. Reason stood that if it was Joan striking it that lead to Siomir’s state… then… straightening the nail… I reached out gingerly and grasped the nail. As I held it, well it didn’t feel like a nail. I jerked my hand back and eyed it doubtfully, trying to see past the illusion.

‘Rith... Calm down! We will mend it. … … They aren’t nails.’

Rith had taken to poking the nails and watching us for reaction. Her anger was starting to irritate me. As was her constant, quick-fingered hostility.

‘Rith will you stop it please?!’

She blinked at me.

‘Rith?’

‘What?!’

‘Please calm down.’

‘I will -calm - down when he is up!’

‘You aren’t helping.’

‘Shut up!’

‘Please calm down! I can’t work on getting him up if you are going berserk on me dear.’

Rith continued to yell at Joan as I reached over and straightened the ‘nail’, still wondering what exactly it actually was. Yes it was painfully evident how they had turned on each other. Siomir stirred and clutched his head.

‘You did this with you lack of a brain and any sense of patience! if I had as little patience as you... I swear.. we wouldn't be having this conversation.’

‘Enough Rith! No fighting here. Seems to have worked… motioned to the now straight nail.’

‘Oh thank gods! I am so sorry.’

She moved to help him up.

‘Could you all... please... just... shut up?’

I sighed and turned to Siomir, who was still clutching his throbbing head. I handed him a small vial with a concoction for pain. He grinned at Joan as he downed it.

‘Let’s not… do that again hmm?’

She nodded and I spoke to Rith.

‘Remember that there are forces here meant to turn out those who shouldn’t be here. It may not have even been Joan hitting the nail that knocked him out. Though it seems likely enough.’

‘Stop trying to cover for her… If Siomir isn't meant to be here and he goes… I'm making sure we all go. I swear I promise!’

‘Rith! Stop it, please!’

‘Such lack of control... Unwise choice Merielle…’

‘Put the swords away dear... and no one else hit any 'nails'.’

Siomir looked to Kliron first and then Rith.

‘Shut up... … … You -are- being just as impatient... Damn it! Fighting amongst ourselves is going to do absolutely nothing. But no more hitting nails.’

‘If we turn on each other we are no better off than the bodies strewn about.’

‘She shouldn't have done that! She hurt you!’

‘It isn’t like I meant to.’

‘Tell you what, Rith... before you kill any of them? Kill me first. Might as well.’

‘Next time we enter Merielle... don’t bring children that lack the understanding of the stakes... I do not like being threatened in such a way. Not here in the very least.’

‘Stop it please... By all that is Mercy... calm down. All of you.’

Rith glared at us, but she did put the blades away. The rest seemed to glare at each other. So this was how the plight of the Wizards started. Someone hit the nail on the head… literally.

‘The nails feel funny…’

‘I know. Nothing is as it -seems-. Nothing, least of all in this place. It was created to confuse... to keep things hidden.’

‘And soon as I work something out you do… So I don't understand what I'm even doing here.’

‘I -asked- each of you ahead of time... No one forced you here Rith. Or any of you. I asked you all because I trust you all, and I didn’t want to be here alone. I’ve done that enough times. My mind is unkind to me. I asked for support.’

‘I'm scared, confused. Alone.’

‘You aren’t alone dear. Please... I know the path isn't meant fo--’

Our conversation was interrupted by the approach of Emrys. He approached without a word. Smiled unnervingly and reached for the hammer. We tried to stop him, to get him to talk… but it wasn’t Emrys, and he wasn’t stopping. He raised the hammer to strike a nail. Siomir shoved him aside just before the hammer connected. Then he held him in place.

‘I suggest you let go of me, mate.’

Well… it came to blows very quickly, and what appeared to be Emrys, vanished as quickly as he hit the ground. Rith’s temper flared again as Kliron spoke.

‘You should have trusted Emrys, Merielle. He is a good man, in your mind and out.’

‘And if it would have killed someone? Hmm? Hitting the nail with such force…? Besides that wasn’t Emrys.’

‘Emrys... is not a bad man. I do not see why we would assume him one in her mind.’

‘However, we could run into anyone she's ever known in here. In any guise.’

‘That wasn’t Emrys. It looked and sounded like him… but it was like Wthyran. That wasn’t Emrys.’

I reached out and grasped the nail he was to struck… only to find that the nails were actually keys. I tugged one out.

‘We need to do -something-!’

‘Stop it Joan. Your need to do something hurt Siomir last time.’

I found myself wishing we weren’t doing this. Praying for patience. It was all I could do not to tell them all to leave. This was stressful, complicated, deeply personal, and they were rushing about, stomping on memories and gods knew what else… throwing tantrums… Oh sweet tears of Ilmater! This was so frustrating!

‘Will you all -stop- arguing please?! Can we not fight for now and get on with this?’

They quieted and we went back to the ‘nails’ which we now knew were keys. Rith had dispelled the illusion. We then moved to a door.

‘They -begin to look like- nails... When you have a hammer... but they aren't. You can't solve them by bashing them. It’s the metaphor. They are all keys... and if they look like nails... ? Keys to problems or they -are- the problem?’

‘I dislike your head Meri. I usually see through most illusions. It tricks me to much Can't help but think your head is outsmarting me.’

‘The wizard was clever, Rith.’

‘No it was a wizard. They are anything but, and I will not be defeated by a bloody fake!’

‘Everyone thinks in different ways, and her mind has been... changed, in certain ways.’

‘Will you all stop being so ... difficult please?’

We come to a collective agreement to disagree

‘Good now six doors, six keys... lets solve the problems without hammering.’

I placed the first key in the lock and turned it. With a deep breath, and unsure what to expect… I murmured a soft prayer as I turned the door knob and opened the door.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Tower
PART SEVEN: BACKWARD GLANCES

The corridor ahead looked poorly lit. Uninviting. A twisted, nightmarish, blood-splattered version… of House Baenund. I felt myself hesitate. My courage faltered. Siomir and Joan pushed ahead. I tried to caution them.

‘Please... I can't tell you for sure what to expect, slow down. Just because I -know- doesn't mean its readily apparent... I have only tried to find my way twice... and he wiped my mind of it…’

I sighed and stepped hesitantly after them. I watched as Siomir opened the first door on the long winding corridor. Instead of finding some foe to fight, some riddle to solve or a puzzle to unravel… I watched as he stood there. He halted sharply in the middle of the empty room, looked confused. Some sort of realization crossed his face and he looked thoughtful… I studied the seemingly empty room from the threshold.

‘What is it?’

He looked at me and spoke with more effort and less grace than he normally did.

‘Your memories... Drow, in halls like this... cruel faces, and pain…Some memories I don't want. Right. Meri goes into the rooms. None of us need to know some things…’

He skittered out of the room and I looked in. I looked in on nightmares. Some that were forgotten… some that should be, the empty room was full of thoughts. Some of the most painful ones. I stood there, as much as I wanted to look away from the garishness before me… I couldn‘t. No. I wouldn’t be going into more rooms.

‘Some things are better forgotten.’

Fear edged my voice then as Rith and Siomir looked at me.

‘Meri you should check the other rooms.’

‘I don't want to remember this place…’

‘Except one thing... one of these rooms may hold something you -need- to recall.’

I stood there.

‘Meri…’

I shook my head. Joan sighed and she and Kliron moved ahead. Siomir followed closely. I prayed. It was not until Tessian reached for my hand, and gently closed the door that I shook from the visions in front of me.

‘Just thoughts. Nightmares. Done… not real anymore.’

He whispered in my ear and I nodded. Fortunately, I was saved from further debate about the doors, and exploration by Joan’s impatience.

‘I think we’ve found something!’

She called back from somewhere ahead of us. Siomir went ahead. Rith and Tessian offered encouragement in their own ways. And we rejoined Joan, Siomir and Kliron.

‘Your mind opened this one for us…’

‘It opened on it's own, Meri.’

‘Come on this one opened on its own.’

Was it still my mind? It seemed like it… but at the same time it didn’t. Either way Joan pushed us forward.

We inched forward to find Emrys… And this time he didn’t feel like some figment. Which made the whole thing… disquieting. The others were convinced he was another copy. I wasn’t so sure. They wanted to attack… But for all our differences… I couldn’t raise my hand to him. Along with Emrys, were two tables, one full of rotten fruit, and one of fresh… the stench of rotting fruit, sickening sweet, and nauseating.

‘I would start with some proper greetings and all that... but frankly you lot aren’t worth the time.’

He hadn’t been the same since Billy died. This just brought that to painful focus.

‘Then what are we worth?’

‘Well, now that you mention it... you could put yourselves to -some- use.’

He sneered. Gesturing to the two tables he spoke.

‘As you can see, there are two tables here. One with fine fruit... the other with rotting fruit. And to put it bluntly... I'm bloody hungry. But... it would be unwise to simply take a piece of fruit without knowing its true nature or origin. For one of these tables bears poisoned fruit and a cunning foe knows his enemies. It is difficult to tell which may be which.’

Joan smirked and called a spell.

‘This is simple then.’

The illusion dispelled.

‘What the bloody hells was that?’

‘The answer to your damned riddle.’

‘You're a bloody moron that's what. You solved nothing.’

I couldn’t help but think it was far too simple. What if it was the fresh fruit that bears the poison…? I watched as Joan began to eat a banana. Emrys threw up his hands in irritation.

‘Fine! Damned women thinking they know everything.’

‘Why aren't any of you listening?! things aren't what they seem and sometimes not even when they seem to be alright…’

‘They weren't… was just like the key, we just needed to dispel the illusion.’

‘Meri... there is one problem with your reasoning. You are right. But... Indecision will get us nowhere.’

‘Rushing ahead will get you hurt. I remember that much. You are all stomping about like clumsy oxen. Yelling at me when things go wrong. I am not even sure if this is my damned head anymore!’

‘Examine, ponder, then -act-. Or your own indecision will be your downfall.’

He made it seem so simple. Emrys on the other hand was getting upset.

‘This is ridiculous! It's my food and you lot just take it!’

Joan tossed Emrys an apple.

‘Quit complaining and eat.’

‘No! Not after you touched it with your inferior hands!’

‘Then quit being lazy and get one on your own…’

‘Inferior?’

I blinked at Emrys, he looked at me furiously.

‘Aye. Watch…’

Something malicious glinted in his eyes. I knew what was coming… he was going to kill me. Right there like that. All of us.

‘Watch out!!’

The battle concluded and his body faded. We mended our wounds quickly enough.

‘A hostile place, your mind Meri…’

He didn’t know the half of it. At least after this, they would understand why I didn’t sleep much. Mercy of Ilmater… and so far things had been calm. I prayed we were strong enough for what was yet to come.

‘I have very few pleasant memories.’

We continued on, down the winding hallway. When we came to a room, Selah and a Thayan were arguing over a table full of maps, scrolls and books. Best as I could tell they were arguing magical theory. Selah’s eyes wept blood as they did when she was cursed by Bhaal for trying to see Dianne. Guilt personified… I listened to the heated debate and eyed the room. There was a familiarity about the wizard. He drew to mind a hate and a loathing that I couldn’t pin down and push away. There was a portal too… but it wasn’t active. Instinct said this was a test… and that was the way out.

‘Now listen here -witch-! One cannot simply comprehend the potential angle of the planes without first cross referencing Tenser's Dissertation upon Thaumaturgical Quadratics with Skinners Treatise upon Abyssal Interference!’

I had -no- idea what that meant… or what Selah’s reply meant exactly…

‘That's bullocks, you damned Thayan. You have to then cross reference Ulbrek Skinners' Transmutation Soul Constant Principle. Which has been universally understood to be variable.’

They didn’t seem to notice us as we whispered and planned.

‘Soul principle? SOUL PRINCIPLE? What in the hells were you taught in that ramshackle mud hut in that flea bitten country of yours? Bah, ignorant wench. The soulfuric infusion caused by the application of souls tips the whole equation out of equilibrium. Even a dullard such as you should be able to comprehend the simplicity of the matter.’

‘Obviously you haven't read up on the latest for the deity defined weave limitations.’

‘Deity defined? What drivel is this? A true practitioner cares not for the influence of mere Gods, but the purity of the Weave in itself.’

I hoped what they were talking about wasn’t supposed to make sense to me… or be overly important… I didn’t have a clue what they were babbling back and forth about. Further more… they didn’t seem… real. They didn’t even seem to be breathing. Just arguing. Back and forth. Selah’s bloodied tears falling on the table in front of her.

‘You half-brained half-wit. Vencraft's theory on planar interactivity nullifies your whole argument.’

There was a word I recognized… or at least a name. Firavain had talked about it… Vencraft. Who was he… what did he have to do with all of this?

‘Vencraft was frankly, a fool.’

My facination with the argument was quickly drawn away as the bookshelves around us creaked and groaned… the room seemed to be… shrinking. I felt that familiar panic rise up. The room was already too small… we couldn’t go back. It was getting smaller… We needed to get out. The portal…

Well at least the two yelling weren’t using up precious air to do so. Was it getting darker too?

Stay calm Meri. It is an illusion. Your mind is playing tricks on you. The room isn’t shrinking.

But it was…

‘Vencraft was a Thayan you dolt.’

‘His waffling could fill ten times this library.’

Thayan…had disappeared in Thay… the room was shrinking… I couldn’t think straight. How long before we were crushed or suffocated?

‘Yes, but we has an Illusionist, and frankly they are children’s tricksters and nothing more. Hardly a noble past time of the art at all.’

‘Lets… just go…’

Breathe slowly. Save air… fix the portal. Focus. Why were they still arguing?

Shrinking. We were going to get crushed.

‘It is… too crowded here.’

FOCUS!

I prayed.

‘Look, Ulbrek Skinners Magic and Matter Metaphysicalities states you can have proper angles on the plans unless you consider also the Infernal Couterfereance.’

Siomir looked to me… as I eyed the shrinking floor space.

‘Think there is anything to learn here?’

I looked to the inactive portal and back to the arguing pair.

‘No no. Wrong again wench. Now Necromancy, holding life and death in the palm of ones hands, cupping the vital essences of humanity and supping at the very crucible of life itself, now there is a study worth pursuing!’

Thayan, Bastard, Necromancer! I hope you get crushed by the books.

Oh no! Now it was shrinking faster… no no… wait. Mercy of Ilmater, how do we get out of here?! Blast my temper.

‘…On the contrary, the quadratic principles of planar distortion clearly imply that the angles of the planes can only be determined by the correct application of Tensers Abyssal Resonation Theory.’

The table was covered with all these books and theories that they were rambling about. I could see the titles. Selah and the Wizard argued on.

‘Seriously! Transmutation is the pinnacle of all magical metaphysics, material or immaterial in this world and beyond. Go read up on Ahriman's Necromantica and find out how limited that art is.’

I winced from the name as though I had been slapped.

‘Ahriman my dear, was a genius. Far beyond the petty workings of Tenser.Why, when I attended his lectures I shall have you know he was counted amongst the greatest minds of Thay!’

‘Ahriman was a fool.’

They shouldn’t keep saying his name… he would get angry…

He’s dead.

What if he isn’t, what if he has some power here.

He’s -dead-.

Isn’t he?

‘Here, this is what I think of Ahriman's logical fallacies and planar compaction theories.’

She took up several scrolls and essays.

‘A fool? Ha! His theory of soulistic dynamics was a break through the like of which has never been seen before on Faerûn, why he once told me of this trinket once…...but I digress. The book of necromancy, his holy book of necromancy might I add is the pinnacle of--’

She burned them and my blood ran cold. Was he going to mention Soulkeep next? What was she doing… the Master would be furious.

‘What in the hells are you doing woman! Those are priceless!’

‘Portal is live…’

I looked from Selah and the wizard, to Siomir and the portal. It was indeed humming with energy… but not functional yet. The room was still slowly shrinking. I was anything but focused. My mind and thoughts and prayers spun wildly.

‘They can't hear us... Meri we need you to concentrate.’

‘Concentrate?’

‘Calmly, Meri. This is your mind. Rule it.’

‘Rashemite witch!’

‘Thayan Slaver!’

‘Treason suckled (germbag)!’

‘The collected works of all the mages of your nation can't even fill thimble full of knowledge due to your constant child-like bickering.’

I closed my eyes and focused. The Thayan looked at Joan.

‘What in the hells do you want woman?’

‘What are you two arguing about?’

‘Can you not see we are in the middle of a complex thaumaturgical matter here?’

Selah looked at Kliron.

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing at the moment.’

Kliron motioned to me. They both looked at me.

‘Now, what in the hells are you doing here!? Why if my master, Ahriman finds you, he’ll have the flesh flayed from your bones, and your carcasses dancing the gallows jig for a century and more!’

I winced.

‘Don't worry about him Meri, he's just upset because his intellectual prowess is less then that of even a mentally challenged child. Ahriman is dead… what of his powers now? We all know his soulistic dynamics was stolen from Rashemen and Aglorandian collaborations.’

Dead. He’s dead. The Drow killed him and dragged me to the depths of the hells personified on Toril.

‘Dead!? Ha! Why he is just upstairs.’

That wasn’t possible… and at the same time it was... suddenly the shrinking room didn’t seem so bad.

‘The Rashemites have no concept at all of any sort of life after death transition.’

‘And obviously you are not a world traveler or you would understand how weak the veil is in Rashemen allowing our spirits to persist on the mortal coil.’

‘The Master is dead.’

'Dead? Ha. Pity you fool woman.’

‘No he has to be dead.’

‘Why my master is watching you right now.’

I glanced warily at the portal. Then back to the Thayan. He grinned at me wolfishly.

‘Would you like to speak with him, woman?’

‘I… Watched… Him die.’

‘Would you like to taste the unveiled power of my master? You think mere death is an obstacle to one of Thay's greatest minds?’

My throat was dry. I felt as though some chill hand had run down my spine. He had a point. Death would have a hard time holding on to him…

‘Don't listen to the necromancer Meri.’

‘You think that one such as he cannot transcend its mortal boundaries. More the fool you are then worm! Your pitiful little mind cannot begin to comprehend the innate workings of the Weave and how it can be ...ah...twisted to suit the purposes of those with the drive and the ambition to grasp it.’

‘The body is able to be reanimated, no soul can transcend it's metaphysical limitations. As I point out again about the Soulistic Stability and Continuity treatise.’

I glared at the Thayan…

‘Quiet, Wizard. I won’t listen to your lies! The Master is Dead.’

‘Lies you say? Shall we see what he has to say about that?’

He began a chant.

‘No. Stop it!’

‘So locked in your own stilly madness Thayan that you forget there are things beyond magic and the weave.’

Selah threw a book at him… which exploded into a cloud of dust and paper bits. He stopped chanting… and laughed.

‘Ahhh such fear, such sweet fear. You betray yourself with your emotions. You know as well as I the folly of your words.’

His eyes glinted coldly as he eyed me. Fear is undeniable. It is how we handle that fear that makes the difference between living and dying… between success and failure.

‘I am -not- afraid.’

‘But you are... oh you are... I can taste it. The very scent is upon you, this room reeks of it. You are afraid. Of so very much.’

He relished in it too. Twisted, disgusting, Thayan Bastard.

‘No. He is dead.’

‘Believe what you will, but you know the truth.’

‘I watched him -die-, and they will drag him to the hells and shred him for spite. He is dead.’

‘You saw what he wanted you to see, and in your minds eye you fooled yourself.’

I paused and thought. I remembered. Clearly. Painfully clearly. The Thayan clapped mockingly.

‘Bravo, bravo. So it becomes clear now does it? The veil is drawn back? The mists clear?’

‘Mists? The only mist in this room, is that filling the space where your brain should be Thayan.’

‘No the assassin made sure. Then burned it all to dust and ash. He is dead.’

‘My, my, my such stubbornness. Such, hope. I can't wait to see it wither and die. Extinguished like a candle in the wind.’

‘Shut up Wizard! Selah, don’t stay here.’

I eyed the ever shrinking room, and the slowly activating portal. The others didn’t trust her… but I wouldn’t leave her here… not to argue endlessly with the Thayan… if she was really Selah? Selah’s curse had been lifted. The fact that her eyes now wept sanguine fluid… defied logic… then again… this whole blasted place did, so why should things change now?

‘I can't go Meri, I've got work to do for you.’

So that was it… What did it mean?

There was hardly any elbow room now… the uppermost shelves began to bow down at us… slowly.

‘No matter your words, your eyes betray you...Merielle Williams. You -know- the truth. You -know- what awaits you. But all in good time.’

Ha! Stupid Thayan. Williams was no longer the surname name!

‘You don’t know, Wizard… obviously.’

‘Notice the mage has to resort to lambasting your hopes in lack of a true elucidating discussion on the proper applications of weave interactivity.’

Books began to rain down in crumbling dust on us… time was short. We were going to get crushed.

‘Are you going to tell us anything useful?’

Joan glowered.

‘Yes...certainly…’

The Thayan grinned at Joan.

‘Deal with this witch and I'll certainly illuminate you.’

He motioned to Selah.

‘Don’t listen to the Thayan. They lie.'

‘Illuminate.. going to light another candle for us… That is likely the limit of your arcanic ability.’

‘A lie? A lie! A lie that is your only hope! That portal is of -my- design! You wish to leave then it will be at -my- whim! Of course...a suitable sacrifice of...ah...blood...might appease me’

He shot a telling look at Selah. He would mean for us to kill her to get out. There in lay the test. The others distrusted Selah. Rith especially would be more than happy to send her to her death. Somehow I didn’t think that would be the right answer. The room continued to shrink.

‘That is not true Meri. He is not the only one that knows the powers of the portal here.’

‘Bah, you'll send them all to the Nine Hells witch.’

‘That is a right sight better then what you would do, Thayan.’

‘You barely can comprehend the nuance behind the device.’

‘You hardly comprehend the subtleties of portal plane principle let alone the multi-plane protection protocols.’

‘I won’t kill her at your whim Thayan.’

‘Then suffice to say you will be stuck here. I do hope you enjoy reading. You'll be here for a while. And I can flay the flesh from your bones with a glance and bring you back to do it again if you -don’t- enjoy reading.’

Selah glared at the Thayan.

‘And I can -end- you.’

‘Quiet your sniveling countenance and return to suckle the teat of the hags that have your men folk by their balls.’

He countered back.

‘Yes, and go back to your Thayan enclaves where you will surely meet a quick death at a better more capable mageling… you apprentice.’

‘Better a quick death than a lifetime spent slaving away at the feet of an aged (germbag), clinging to an outdated thaumaturgical outlook.’

‘This conversation is something that will never end. Neither breathe, neither really exist. It is a debate between ghosts.’

Siomir said dryly. He was right. I studied the portal, which did indeed need blood… but how much and whose? We crowded between table and portal now, as the rest of the room had shrunk to a frightfully small amount of space.

The Thayan rattled on about the Master, and I insisted he was dead. I reached over and wiped away the bloodied tears. The representation of all that others had sacrificed for my sake… not just Selah, but all of them. I touched the blood to the portal and it hummed to full life. I insisted again that the master was gone… no longer a problem or threat to me. Selah looked at me again and asked as she had in the past… this representation of my own guilt and doubts, and didn’t even bat a weeping eye as she asked me a question. The Thayan continued to ramble on until Joan slammed a book over his head and knocked him out. Siomir laughed at that… but I was too hung on Selah’s words.

‘Have you ever considered you might be wrong... Meri?’

I looked at her as the table began to inch in on us now… pushing us to the portal. I had considered so much… so often. Wrong to not keep a closer eye on Billy. Wrong to think I could keep a demon at bay. Wrong to think I could keep hidden. Wrong to think that the Master had died or stayed dead? I was mortal. I was bound to make mistakes… I had… I would… and what if I was wrong… What if he was out there somewhere… or even within the maze of riddles and puzzles… watching?

From above us… a chime rang out… and as the books began to fall, there was no where else for us to go, but through the portal… With one backward glance at Selah, who worked diligently in the still shrinking room… I stepped through, the others behind me.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Tower
PART EIGHT: LOST IN THOUGHT

Slowly our vision cleared and the portal behind us fell silent. It looked exactly like the one we stepped through. It seemed we had not left the tower. Though this part was considerably older and much less used. It smelled of mold and must, rot. It was damp and cool, like that of a spring morning. Minus of course, the pleasant fresh air, lovely sunshine, crisp breezes, singing birds and other such lovely wonders of nature that I was starting to miss. It felt like we had been there for ages in that hellish nightmare. How long had we been wandering?

Something else was missing… Gone was the familiarity. The anchoring. I would have thought myself totally lost if not for the faint presence of Jonas’ bond on my mind… so very faint. Prayer fought panic. Prayers… Rith could not cast spells, which had the sorceress in a fine state of agitation. I found calling prayers equally difficult. She went so far as to tell me to just allow it because it was my mind… the only problem was… I wasn’t the one stopping her… I wasn’t sure where we were anymore. I couldn’t find the path… figuratively or literally.

At either side of the portal were two massive constructs. They seemed to have runes on them. Draconic maybe? None of us could read or recognize them, so no one could be sure. The handwriting… was oddly familiar. It sent a chill down my spine to contemplate. We began to explore our ‘new’ surroundings. It seemed to be an elaborately decorated, overly lavish, personal chamber. My stomach knotted. There was a fire in the odd chimney at the center of the room, but it offered little warmth if any.

There was a scroll that simply read “Bell Tower”. There was also a host of crafting areas, bits of odds and ends from around the realms… some recognizable, some were not. The golems were gnomish maybe… but the material and construction seemed odd even for the other’s more experienced knowledge of such things. The others complained of blank scrolls and books. My eyes wandered over our surroundings. I could not shake the sense of wrongness in the place. Despair and frustration beat against faith and hope… I struggled to remain calm… but I was lost. I could not help but fear the implication that simple fact held. We were lost…

An oddly cheery painting, seemed out of place in the gloom. Lake Mulsantir. The painting too seemed strangely familiar, but very out of place. The nightstand next to the bed held a handwritten, yes… handwritten copy of Vern craft’s ‘Upon the Nature of The Abyss’ It seemed oddly significant, so I added it to my pack, which now had an odd collection of books.

My eyes moved to the desk near the bed. Some teleportation scrolls, lists diagrams, charts and notes. I gathered them up. Of special interest seemed to be a journal of sorts detailing the trials of “subjects”. The very implication of that word chilled my blood. Joan held a book about ‘Energy Storage’ the odd assortment of texts was… troubling… because somehow I knew they all tied together… and I was the blasted knot in the middle of it all. Our explorations were interrupted by a muffled noise from above us.

‘Why my master is watching you right now. Would you like to speak with him, woman?’

His words danced through my mind… and I found bravery a bit more difficult to come by now. I looked at the others nervously.

‘Do you really think he is upstairs…?’

Hesitant, and as horrifying as that thought was… we agreed to find a way upstairs. That seemed to be our only logical course of action. Of the two doors to choose from, we made a choice. Dread continued to churn in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure where or when we were anymore… There were no bodies here… no mass of Drow and Thayan fighting to some goal… no riddles or paths or sense of right. Never in my life had I felt so utterly, and completely lost.

As we crossed the threshold into the hallway, rugs worn by centuries of use, the golem sentry by the door turned his head to me. I froze. Instinctively tensed?

‘Subject Fifteen... out of bounds. Castigate... Subdue…’

It creaked. I frowned. Why did that sound familiar… why did I instinctively wish to be compliant…?

Because the Master will be angry… I shouldn’t be here.

‘Return to dormitory.’

I almost nodded and readied to go… and then I blinked. Then it noticed the others.

‘Unsanctioned slaves… Weapons... Castigate... subdue... Cleanse.’

It raised its bladed arm, and we prepared for a fight. It took some effort to get the massive contraption down, further complicated by lack of prayer or spell. Eventually it fell. But not before leaving us badly battered. Sturdy despite age, and our lack of spells combined to make a hard pressed battle even more difficult than normal. They fought as I worked with bandages over bloodied wounds. We were going to need to be very careful. I checked my supply. Down by half.

‘I think we should leave... I don't like not being able to cast!‘

‘We -can't- leave until we die or find the door.’

‘It's in your head.. let me cast spells.. Not that I have many left. apparently hugging at the gate used them all up.’

‘Indeed... it's a thought.‘

‘Cast away…’

What was with all the whining and complaining? The constant down-trodding and the arguing were both starting to irritate me. I was getting angry. Why was I getting angry? I looked at them annoyed. Why were they complaining? What did they even care? Its not like -they- had to remember the most horrid parts of their lives and deal with the headache afterwards. What did they know! How did any of us know where we even were anymore? What if it wasn’t my mind? And why do they think I can do a blasted thing about the spells? Not like I am stopping them. Why would I keep my -friends- from doing what would -help- us? I was surprised by my thoughts… and I jumped as Tessian placed a hand on my shoulder. I had pulled out the journal and flipped to the page on Subject Fifteen. Curiosity would push me to an answer I already knew but had forgotten…
My mind drifted to the fragment of a memory, almost forgotten.

~
‘Subject Fifteen. Williams, M. Female…’

He droned monotonously to the animated quill that penned away as he circled me. I was hung by my arms from somewhere above me in the center of the room. It was cold and dark… I was scared.

‘Approximately fifty kilograms in weight, 1.5 meters in height. Healthy, good bone and muscle structure. Significant markings/Scarring: Left temple, head wound, approximately 1-2 years old. Athkatlan Slaver’s brand, left arm, inner bicep. Eyes: Green. Hair: Copper-brown. Sensitivity to physical contact. Severe amnesia, earliest remembered date: approximately two years. Claustrophobia, Nyctophobia. Further exploration of weaknesses/exploits to be used in stressor tests. Slight attenuation to divine magic, may require further testing. Subject will require compliancy conditioning. Candidate for reformation.’

He looked at me, stopping his circling and smiled up at me coldly.

‘Hello, Merielle. I Ahriman, Arch Necromancer and rightful Zulkir of -all- schools of magic. You, may simply call me “The Master”.’

I spat at the haughty mage, only to be quickly lashed by negative energy that left me trembling.

‘Stupid girl. Let us try this again. Hello Merielle. I Ahriman, Arch Necromancer and rightful Zulkir of -all- schools of magic. You, may simply call me “The Master”. I will give you a hint child… the correct response is ‘Of course Master.’ I am waiting?’

I glared at him. He smiled wolfishly. He would enjoy this. Another wracking jolt.

‘Again. . . Hello Merielle. I Ahriman, Arch Necromancer and rightful Zulkir of -all- schools of magic. You, may simply call me “The Master”.’

‘Ahriman? You think I will bend to you?’

He smiled coldly as another blast of energy threatened to sheer my soul from the rest of me.

‘Oh you will bend, stupid girl, or you will die. Repeatedly.’

A sharp slap across my face with a skeletal hand left me reeling.

‘You will not use my proper name, but address me only as -Master- always. Do you understand?’

‘I won’t!’

It continued… I passed out at least a dozen times the first day. Finally… after what had amounted to several months by the notes… If not he, then one of his copies, constantly… the same greeting over and over… The advantage to being a wizard is that time and distance seldom limit you. I was with him for a year, but in all actuality… what took months passed in a day, the actual time at his hands… utterly immeasurable.

‘Hello Merielle. I Ahriman, Arch Necromancer and rightful Zulkir of -all- schools of magic. You, may simply call me “The Master”.’

Weakly… barely a whisper… He got his answer. He smiled.

‘Very good. That wasn’t so hard was it?’

I didn’t have the strength for anything else. None the less… I was taken down from the bindings that had held me up for so long, I could no longer feel my hands, could barely see. I was dressed, mended by more of his loyalist and given a few hours of rest. It was then that the real pain began… the Conditioning…
~

‘The other way. Try the other door.’

Siomir’s words snapped me from my thoughts and I tucked the writing away. We back tracked and crossed to the other door only to find a pair of golems guarding. They regarded us mechanically.

‘Unsanctions... Slaves. This is...The master's chamber. Return to dormitory level.’

‘Now we are getting somewhere.’

‘Return... to dormitory level.’

I inched toward the stairs… they focused on me and Joan and Siomir moved to better trip up one of the two golems.

‘Halt. Slaves… are... not... Permitted.’

‘I am not a slave!’

I stood and made a show of defiance. Dramatically waved my arms and raised my voice. Whispers went among the group and we inched ourselves around the hall.

‘Slaves are not permitted.’

I nodded to Siomir, almost imperceptibly as the Golem moved forward. We had the base of a plan. A benefit to battling with the same few for so long. I inched further motioning the others to follow, still watching the slow moving golem, rust showing its age.

‘Slaves are not Permitted!’

It raised its arms away from it’s body and creaked forward. It meant to stop me. Its narrow mechanical function not realizing what was afoot around it.

‘Ready?’

He looked to Joan, grinning, and she nodded.

‘Always dear.’

The two grabbed the hulking golem. They promptly launched it at its counterpart, the two constructs quickly tangling and mangling each other. The uppermost of the two slashed the one beneath it to bits trying to stand. Siomir let out a triumphant cry and looked to the rest of us.

‘YES! Now Run! Now!! RUN.’

Well it wasn’t as if any of us had to be told twice, and indeed we had nearly covered half the distance to the stairs up. We closed the door behind us. Siomir… still rather riled up from a game of ‘Toss the Golem’ beat the door knob so that it was un-turning… effectively blocking the way to the remaining golem who had started to dent the door behind us. We decided it best to keep going.

This hall was more dank, disrepair and mold permeated it. The rugs rotted, the walls blackened with dank damp. Moisture clung to the air and cobwebs to the walls. The floor slopped up at a shallow angle. We crept up the dark hallway. The only light came from arrow slits and very small windows.

‘This place is so … old.’

‘Bright.’

Joan gestured to one if the windows.

‘Mountain range, the sun over the top, with a desert stretching away. Meri? I'm looking -down- on the mountains. We are -very- high up. I didn't realize your mental faculties were so rarified…’

‘Hmm??’

I barely glanced from the notes I was reading. An accurate, analytical, complete… and very detailed account of much of my early conditioning… It was not difficult for my mind to fill in the blanks that were left open by lack of descriptive words.

‘Nothing important. Ideas?’

‘Wait what?’

I blinked at them as we walked upwards. Patiently, he spoke again.

‘This tower we're in, is extremely tall. Thousands and thousands of feet.’

~
‘Subject Fifteen seems to have developed an acute fear of heights after being thrown from the tower summit for lack of compliance. After resurrection a couple of instances, this has become an effective control measure.’
~

‘Ugh... I hate heights…’

I remembered the first fall… I glanced out the window and blanched.

‘And we are going... Up…’

‘Meri? These rugs. The trappings. Anything tickling your thoughts?’

They were … familiar. I had been here… very long ago. But it was different then. Thayan. Every aspect of this place was associated with some long forgotten pain… of a time without faith, and lacking in strength. My dark thoughts were punctuated by the creak of metal. Another hulking golem… though this one in horrid condition, was aware of us… It began to creak forward. Its rust laden joints creaked and groaned. Movement from the construct left a trail of orange powder. The thing fell much easier than its better maintained counterparts.

We came upon a door. Silent on the other side of it, we came into a room… empty and covered in dust. There stood in the large assembly hall, large armored statues of Thayan Gladiators. At the forefront of the room, upon a pedestal stood a throne. As I grasped the vague familiarity of things around us, Rith spoke… her voice echoed off the walls around us.

‘Meri... I hate your mind by the way... I thought you used to be nice.’

I flinched from her words. So judgmental. Akin to Emrys’ anger at me for my faith to Ilmater… and his hate to Ilmater for Bhaal’s actions. Her words, though not as carelessly intended as they came across were salt to raw wounds… many of which we had slashed open as we stumbled about… many pains forgotten… pushed away and ignored and barely healed. Who was she, or any of them to judge me! They did not know what had happened… what they saw, twisted fragments… barely scratched the surface of the pain and the fear… and they judged. I stayed quiet, like a reprimanded child. My own bitter thoughts stinging against prayer and hope…

‘Your mind's tortuous! I like to think that if it were mine, we would be running through a field barely clad, happy, with all sorts of nice animals on a cheery, sunny day.’

Joan quipped wryly at her.

‘That sounds horrifying Rith.’

‘Not like this horrible place.’

I turned to Rith, and couldn’t hold the bitterness from my tone as I spoke.

‘I am so sorry this is so terrible for you my dear. Next time I choose my life dear, I will choose one more pleasing for those who might violate my mind. Fill it with pretty things for you to look at as you stomp about.’

‘Thank you dear, and I meant dear sincerely.. not in that horrible way people have been using the word.’

I stared at her as she sort of chuckled. Maybe she didn’t mean to be hurtful, but it stung. Just because I chose to suffer for the sake of others… didn’t make it easier… Faith or not. It didn’t make me impervious to the pain or the fear or the hurt. It did not make me less human… immune to anger and harm simply because I am duty bound to protect them no matter the cost to myself. I won’t wallow in gratitude… but sometimes… it would be nice if the best I could do was enough for more than just Ilmater… Did they think because my temple bestows me with a title, because my god graces me with his holy grace that I have become something beyond infallible humanity? How crass and unforgiving they could be… and it hurt. That was with faith… the memories we walked, fragmented and twisted as they were, were from a time without faith… where hope was barely a flicker… not a raging fire in my heart.

‘You think I am enjoying this? That I like my horrid memories?’

I gave them a desperate pleading look. Mercy of Ilmater… Please… I was floundering… I felt lost. In more ways than one. A shudder worked through me as I fought back loss and despair. I clung to hope as I clung to Tessian’s hand. I anchored in my faith as I anchored to Jonas… I looked past Rith’s hurtful words to each precious moment that I held dear as I called them friend. Each face here stood with me for a reason… each heart along side my own because they were dear. We were not enemies here. Faith was not lost… Even now Ilmater’s hand was at my back, gentle, urging support that bid me be strong. Slowly… faith reasserted itself. In the nick of time too. Because the biggest tests still lay ahead.

‘I found something!’

Kliron called as the throne slid away, revealing beneath it a trap door and a stairway down into a private chamber. The Grotto. Such a pretty place, and a pretty name. Magic can twist the most lovely of things and make them hideous… Foreboding threaded around me, despite my newly strengthened resolve. This place was more familiar than all of the places put together. Untouched by time or distance… unaltered memory… this room I knew well. Down the steps we went… My mind had already raced ahead of us… Desperately, I prayed.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Tower
PART NINE: DOUBTS

Of all the places that seemed disconnected and foggy… I remembered this place. It was mine to see each night. My worst nightmares are born of this very place. There was no uncertainty as my eyes wandered over the little alcove. I was distantly aware of her eyes on me… and even further removed from the conversations and speculations of the others. In it’s natural… unnatural state… the grotto was pleasant. A large standing tree, a lovely waterfall… peaceful… He would sit at the desk and watch… Watch and dictate to that quill of his. The scratching of it, nearly as grating as his endless, analytical monotone, and egotistical surety.

Conditioning… Stressor tests. Hot, cold, fear, pain, sleep depravity, one illusion for this… a portal for that… even some more mundane methods… it is astounding the levels of pain that can be reached, with a blade, a mild poison, and a practiced, patient, careful hand… Oh yes, this place I remembered. This place was fear and pain beyond comprehension. I remembered it vividly enough for the first time since being here… that I -felt- I was there again. Just like those nightmares I would wake from… screaming. I must have actually blacked out, because the next thing I knew… the tree went crashing into the enclosure that held Dajala.

The thought cage. Enchanted in such a way that the more one fought to get out, the more the magic conjured fears and terrors… which sent one flailing into the bars again… which fed the cycle. Increasingly worse. The only way to break the cycle was to die… or find some shred of mental fortitude and see past it. Neither came easily.

I blinked at them. Actually noticing Dajala for the first time in a while… wondering when she had separated from us, and how she had ended up here. The others were worried of a trick, like with Emrys. Rith and Dajala spoke of spells not working again, which lead to more accusations that I was keeping spells from working… I felt myself struggling against tides of anger and hopelessness… I prayed… clung to bits of hope and faith the way a drowning man holds to Flotsam in an ocean storm…

I rambled quietly, scarcely aware of the questions of the others. My mind less in the present and more in the past. Thoughts flitted from one moment to the next. They asked questions I think… but it was so hard to concentrate…

‘… The goal… was not to die…’

The chime. Louder than I had ever heard it before, shook me from my thoughts and I focused on them. We heard the heavy footfalls of the golems above us. I would have faced an army rather than stayed in that place. I gathered up the notes from the desk, shoved them in my pack and we went back up to the assembly hall. By then it was too late. There were at least six of them. The only other door was locked… and between it, and ourselves… were more bladed behemoths. We were at further disadvantage by lack of spell-power.

Joan kicked a statue over, smashing one… the remaining five fell… excruciatingly slowly. When the battle was won… we stood, battered and bruised… and Dajala lay lifeless. I stared at her in a daze.

‘Hells Meri! Happy Thoughts!’

‘It's your head. Or used to be at least. Take it back.’

Was it? I looked at Dajala’s body. I wasn’t leaving any of them trapped here. Whether they trusted her or not… any of them. No one was staying here. I would see this place closed. If it was my head… I would take it back. I would take every single one that wasn’t meant to be there, and send them on their rightful paths. Through more effort than I expected… I concentrated on Dajala. Even as I prayed… I felt it drain me… I knew it would cost me greatly, but I didn’t care. No more were staying imprisoned here. No more were being doomed to the Hells. The tower trembled and shuddered as I prayed. Tiles fell from the ceiling and shattered on impact with the ground. The place stilled and fell silent as Dajala again drew breath. It took several moments for me to rebalance from the effort.

Focus was becoming more difficult. Memories were mixing together, lines were blurring. I felt so lost and inexplicably afraid. The sheer effort of calling a familiar prayer had shaken me some. How distant was I from Ilmater in this place for it to take such effort? Worries and doubts shuffled through consistently stubborn thought patterns.

The effect was a jumbled mess. It wore on my reserves of patience, and I found anger churning there. I prayed for balance… for the grace to endure… and began to wonder just what I would be asked to surrender to walk away from this place. I knew I would not walk away from this unscathed… Now I simply prayed to see the others safely out…

The path continued forward. To the other door in the large room. It wasn’t so much locked, as jammed shut. A cold wind rushed through the corridor beyond. Siomir and Joan slowly forced the door open, and we stepped into the biting cold wind that moved through the hall.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Tower
PART TEN: MISTRUST

‘We have to get out of here...Firavain .. can you here me?!’

I jumped at her loud exclamation.

‘Dajala... Stop.’

‘What are you doing Dajala?’

She was panicking that’s what. This wasn’t just some place to walk out of… or into

‘Oh... that is it Dajala.’

‘I feel Firavain , he is in trouble…’

‘Yelling is only going to attract attention. Besides there is no getting out… we have to find the door out.’

‘Firavain needs me…’

She said meekly.

‘We'll get to him, but -screaming- isn't going to help, Daja. If it would, I'd scream my fool head off.’

We inched along through the hall, wind that originated or at least came from ahead of us. Our progress was achingly slow. My apprehension grew with each hesitant step. I felt as though I was the mouse sneaking along beneath the gaze of a hungry hawk. They shuddered and shivered behind me… again their breath coming forth from their warm lungs and freezing in the bitter air. Dajala urged us forward… and Rith… well… was being Rith.

‘Hurry please.’

‘You trying to lead us into a trap?’

I turned on the whole group sharply.

‘Rith stop it!!’

‘Thank you Meri.’

I glared as much at Rith as I did at Dajala, my eyes wandering over the others as my thoughts still walked shadowed paths. I felt my mind shifting away from my heart. Thought falling from faith, and I was angry. I was lost. We were running out of time.

‘Still don't trust you... even if you are the real obsessive one.‘

She glared at Dajala and then looked at me.

‘Stop defending her.’

‘I am not defending anyone! Can you not all just make the best of this for my sake at least?’

‘Remember the others we ran into in here, Meri? Emrys, for example?’

I looked at Siomir. Of course I remembered… but by that logic… all of them were suspect. Nothing was as it seemed. Not even me…

‘Isn’t this bad enough without all the hostility?’

‘It isn't helping, no. So, leave it.’

‘Why her! why did you drag her in!’

‘I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! I asked you to come with me… We chose the first steps ourselves. I didn’t choose who actually got dragged here or why. I only chose that those I consider dear or friend… stay.’

‘Pointless bickering…’

Kliron moved past us all.

‘If you're really worried, ask her something Merielle doesn't know. Hey Dajala. What shape is the birthmark on Firavain's rear shaped like?’

‘What? He does not have one.’

Dajala looked at Joan, I raised a brow at the odd question. Joan nodded to Rith.

‘She’s real.’

‘Rith. -Enough- distractions.’

‘Please, can we just get this over with?’

'Fine. F-f-f-reezing...We should run.. or hug or something.. it's not like I have padding…'

Tempers and tensions alike were high. Our situation was unique and dangerous. The hall we found ourselves in was bitingly cold, and getting colder by the moment. The air currents moved rapidly, and clawed at us relentlessly. It seemed to be pushing against us… as though it tried to halt us. The others shivered and shuddered. We crept along the hall. My own temper cooled with the chill and my thoughts. I gave them all sympathetic looks. I was conditioned for this… We could hear the heavy footfalls of more golems ahead. We each dreaded the battle that we feared was imminent. Whatever thoughts we each entertained was interrupted by a massive clang of a bell.

It shook the whole tower by the time we reached the door at the upper end of the winding hall. The door was not hard to open with the wind pushing it open to us. Inside, two golems of a size and scale I had never seen before, held a massive bell over a large chasm in the floor. The frightfully cold air seemed to come from the hole in the floor. Behind the pair that held the bell, on a pedestal of sorts… stood another massive construct with a frighteningly familiar face. I froze… and it wasn’t from the cold. With a painful shriek of tortured, ill cared for metal… the construct turned his face to us fully… to me. I shrank into the wall. If ever I feared… something deeply ingrained… I feared this. I feared him. He would be very angry…
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Tower Summit
PART ELEVEN: THE MASTER‘S HAND

I Let out a choked yelp. In one solitary moment… I lost sight of Sister Merielle Silene, Chosen, Living Saint of Ilmater… I was Subject Fifteen, Williams, M. There before me stood the face of the Master… and nothing else mattered. I waited fearfully for the reprimand that I knew would come.

‘So I take it you recognize that one?’

I couldn’t breathe… I didn’t dare look up. Siomir’s words barely registered… in fact none of them registered. So consuming was his presence in my very mind, that all else seemed a vague and distant background.

‘Meri?’

‘Thrice struck, thrice warned, thrice failed, Fifteen, you are late…’

The three loud bell tolls that we heard as we inched our way through… not chimes, but deafening bells… I shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here. My mind raced over everything… I quaked in the wake of his words. Siomir spoke again but all I could do was stammer an apology to the thing before me.

‘Fifteen. That's you?’

‘I... I am... I didn't mean... I'm sorry…’

‘No apologies. Not -now-!’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘Get a hold of yourself. You owe it no apology.’

‘You must be returned to the dormitories Fifteen.’

I nodded meekly, I waited…

‘Get a hold of yourself, woman. You are no longer a Slave.’

‘You must be -repurposed-.’

Repurposed? The very word sent me clamoring into the wall. I pressed against it. I shook my head. Repurposing hurt. Worse than conditioning… most didn’t survive… I survived. Once. Not again. Please not again…

‘No…?’

‘Remade…’

He sneered. He relished my fear.

‘No-- I didn't mean--’

‘Reformed!’

‘No. Please.’

I shrank from every word... I winced away from Kliron as he lay a hand on my shoulder. His words barely heard.

‘Snap out of it. This is your mind, and your domain.’

His. It was all his.

‘I did... I kept it safe... I kept it shut. Just like you said... kept it hidden... I didn't die... I didn't… please…’

He sneered cruelly as I stumbled over words. So distracted was I by where my mind now had shifted, that Siomir’s slap and words didn’t register… it wasn’t a hard slap, but it wasn’t enough to draw me back to who I -am- and draw me from who I -was-.

‘Do I need to get Deva to wake you up? Get control of yourself. Or we are all screwed.’

‘Your words are meaningless, the experiment failed. My puppets will dispose of the evidence.’

Somewhere from deep within… an ember caught spark. I watched the whole thing in slow motion as the bell fell from the two constructs holding it up. Down the hole it fell, glaring clangs and rumbles heard as it fell away.

‘Focus Meri. Try and relax, you are not alone.’

‘Alright those two methods didn’t work--’

Siomir’s words cut short by the words of the Master. Though it all sounded so strange… seemed slow, as though I was falling away from it all… in a tunnel… from far away. Words registered slowly, actions slower still.

‘KILL THEM!’

‘Oh Crap! Get Back!’

Joan and Siomir pushed in front of me, Tessian pulled on my hand, tugging me to the door. Once I stood at the threshold, Kliron shoved me back into the hall. I watched amazed how these people were willing to stand between the Master and his Trinket. These were no mere people… they were friends. Loved ones. For all we had suffered through together… they were willing to stand with me, against my biggest fears… in the darkest of places. Somewhere in the deepest parts of my mind… an anchoring whisper.

‘Faith is Strength…’

They all had faith in me… There was always hope, I was the Willing Servant of Ilmater, not some Wizard’s Pet! As the two golems advanced I looked up. I glared into the face of the Master, and tore away my chains… threw them to him in defiance. We would not fall here. I would not leave them here to fight in my place. We had not come -all this way- to fall. We wouldn’t. So we fought. Fiercely. We nearly fell to our attackers. I watched the battle in muted shock, barely noting what wounds needed mending and barely reaching them in time. None the less… the thing fell back and through the hole in the floor. Screaming defiantly… it too fell away slowly like the bell.

Tattered and beaten badly, we stood. I can’t say what exactly happened but Kliron nearly fell in with the golem. We never heard golem or bell hit the bottom… was there a bottom? Vast emptiness? Kliron looked over the edge and whispered softly:

‘It is more than emptiness…’

He promptly lost consciousness. It was then that my focus was drawn to something the others had noticed earlier. Over a strange alter, a heart suspended… beating rhythmically, and glowing with a soft orange light. I struggled to focus… but I was remembering the day he died… and wondering how he stood there before us like that. Siomir and the others were probably right. It probably was leftover fragments of memory and impression, left in place to ensure compliance.

As my mind ran over his death… and the burning of his tower… Dajala sought to wake Kliron… Rith was apologizing for her attitude, Tessian still had not let go of my hand. Joan and Siomir fought to focus my thoughts, and figure out the floating heart. The room smelled of smoke and ash… as though the structure was burning. The stench of burning flesh turned my stomach… and no one seemed to notice… at first. Slowly it became undeniable, and they looked confused. I couldn’t focus though. I watched as Kliron’s face twisted in pain and he wouldn’t wake. I knew I should focus on the heart… it beckoned me, but I couldn’t… Siomir, seeing that niceties were failing, decided to play on my stubborn streak.

‘Focus, Merielle. You've prepared for this, for months. This is no worse than facing the knives of the assassins. Or are you just going to roll over and die?’

Kliron writhed… the heart … drew me closer. I glared at Siomir.

‘No.’

‘Good. Now what is that… and what do we do next?’

As I inched to the heart… my eyes dropped down to the alter over which it hovered. Depicted, in an all too detailed miniature, stood the Thayan. The scene… he stood over a woman? A woman’s bones… what was he doing to her? He stood in a death mask, the woman over a mortuary slab, and he was casting some sort of ritual… it was him. It was disturbingly personal feeling… Familiar in a misunderstood and distorted way… Somehow…
The flesh stripped from bodies… rituals cast over the bones, then the body is reformed. Remade, stronger… the final step of conditioning… none of the others survived… Darkest arts… As I glared at the representation… I knew… it was me. I was remade. I was his trinket. There was no amulet. It was not a necklace… It was me. She was me… those were my bones. I was his in more ways than I dared admit to… and I hated him for it. Hesitantly I touched the robed figure’s arm.

To my horror it drew forth an image of darkest nightmare… bodies… women. Flesh flayed away, muscle tissue inscribed with runes. He augmented flesh as they writhed in terrible pain. Screams from Wizard and victim alike, she in utter pain, he in anger at another failure, as his attempts to play a god faltered with one last ragged and agonizing breath… None survived… but one…

I jerked my hand back. The very vile sense of the most grievous of violations. I hated him. I hated him with more venom and darkness than I knew existed. I was glad it was little more than a disjointed nightmare. That most of what he had done was forgotten. Anger I did not know I possessed seethed through me. Like a quick moving toxin it permeated my being. I stood glaring at the depiction… knowing in my heart of hearts that this mild stone cast mockery was little more than a means to remind him of some precious pain… some glorious triumph in his dark art. I took a measure of comfort and greedy satisfaction in the fact that with his last words to me he had called me a failed experiment.

I glared and glowered and could not look from the thing before me. It both became focus and fed a rage and a darkness that shorn from me all that was familiar. A hand touched my arm and gentle words were met with cold anger.

‘Don’t -touch- me.’

Dajala shrank back.

‘Meri, look away.’

‘I am not some -thing-!’

‘Meri?’

They looked at me in worry. Never had I been twisted by such anger. Never.

‘What?!’

The more angry I got… the more the air seemed to chill around us.

‘Are you alright?’

‘If you knew… you wouldn’t ask!’

I glared at the figures in front of me, not looking at them. The air became uncomfortably cold.

‘Do you even -know- what that Bastard did?!’

They shuddered and shivered… the cold now far greater than what we had already dealt with.

‘Of course not! how could you know…’

I glared at the figurine. I hated him. Hated him for everything. The temperature kept falling. Frost froze to the glass windows. The cold air rushing in from the crevice in the floor felt almost warm. Siomir looked at me levelly.

‘Then inform us. And figure out how to undo it, preferably before I freeze to death.’

I glared at them disbelievingly. They could never understand. They shivered and shuddered, barely survivable in the cold.

‘Oh stop it. It is barely chilly in here.’

I glowered at them. How could they be so presumptuous?

‘Meri, you are killing us.’

The shadows in the room lengthened… the temperature continued to drop. Goose bumps began to touch my own flesh as the temperature was nearly unbearable for me… and still my rage burned, stealing the very warmth around us.

‘-I- am not his trinket. I am not his tool. I am not his -slave-! I am not -His-!’

‘Not to you, Sunshine. Alright, you are not his slave. Now how do we undo his work?’

As he struggled to even breathe… as they all struggled against hypothermia… My very soul withered in my hate of the Wizard. Mercy forgive me… I was weak in that moment. My anger consumed me and threatened to destroy me… and I continued to feed it.

‘Calmly, Meri. Focus. You are giving in.’

‘What do you know! Giving in... You weren't there! Don't judge my failings. I did my best.’

‘Of course you did Meri. And now you have the second chance you need. Meri? Quit getting upset. You are making it -colder- in here. Calmly. Every time you get more upset, it gets colder in here. Noticeably colder. You are going to indirectly cause Tessian, Rith and Daja to -die-. Not intentionally, never that, but calm yourself, please. You can beat this. You -can- be free.’

I glared at the figure. All of this was his fault… all the pain he caused. All of it was his fault. Rith and Dajala were barely conscious from the cold, Kliron was barely awake, Tessian had passed out from strain and cold… All of it was his fault. That we were even here… dying in this place…

Dying. I looked at all of them with the sickening realization of what was going on. Suddenly, Siomir’s words registered… as did the health of the others. I struggled for calm for focus, and begged forgiveness… prayed against all hope that there really was a second chance… that I had the chance to undo what had been done. My fault or not, it was my burden. I did not bear it alone.

In that span of a moment I remembered every kindness ever done for my sake… every sacrifice. I was ashamed to have let my anger rule me so… in a way that almost made each friendship, each life or death, for my sake… from my mother, to Xun, to all those who fought for Billy to those dearest to me that had fought and died and by Mercy been reclaimed from death… To those that loved me enough to stand no matter what… beyond capability or reason… Tessian… those here in this room… and Jonas… who anchored me. I tried so hard to find focus.

A flash of memory to a moment in the past not as distant as others… there in the Candlekeep Inn. Jonas and I sat there, and he was learning focus and meditation. I had leant him my focus… until he found his own. I handed him the locket with the pictures of he children. Told him of a field of daisies. A sunlit place filled with Billy and Dianne’s laughter… Mercy in forgiveness… in second chances. Mercy enough for me? They all thought so… How dare I shame them so… how dare I be so hypocritical… The gentle hand of Ilmater found me then… as did his words.

Focus. Do not let your anger rule you, Merielle.

The second chance given. The temperature stopped falling… raised above freezing by several degrees, and while still uncomfortably cold… no longer deadly. We then tried to figure out what to make of the heart. I asked forgiveness and was granted such. I took a measure of comfort from that. In the distance I heard children laughing… In a near daze I studied the heart, suspended and glowing, beckoning.

Without a thought to my actions, or a word to the others, I reached up to the suspended heart. It fell into my hands, and at the moment I closed my hands around it… there was a blinding flash and the world seemed to shift around us…
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: The Ruin
PART TWELVE: A DIFFERENT KIND OF DOOR

The now familiar sense of freefall overcame me again, and I watched as the tower seemed to burn around us… A raging inferno as the Wizards Bell Tower collapsed into a pile of smoldering ash… falling for what seemed an age. By the time we landed, the fire had long since died, leaving in its wake, a ruined pile of rubble and ash. We stood among the ruins of the tower, as though centuries had passed from the moment it burned to the ground. At last we stood amid the ruins somewhere in those mountains that we had looked down over…

‘Where are we?’

‘I would assume in Merielle’s mind.’

‘Maybe linked with it, but there is too much of someone else in here.’

More than one some one… and definitely too many…

We took in our surroundings quietly. There was a tear in the ground. A black formless shape would drift from it every few seconds… the whole area seemed… hostile. Less welcoming than the mountains we saw from above. It was a place consumed by hate. Siomir reached his blade out and cut into the next form that emerged from the rift…

‘Someone else’s memories… just a flash… the memories of the one I caught, I think…’

He blinked and recovered from the assault in rending the shadow in two. Dajala still tried to grasp what was happening.

‘Thay?’

‘Similar to Thay maybe…’

‘I cannot picture this being Meri.’

Neither could I… but my eyes were on the heart that still rest in my palms. It no longer seemed to beat, or glow… it simply rested there. The more I stared at it the more I saw past the illusion of the heart. It was quite possibly the largest, flawless diamond I had ever seen. It seemed somehow… important. I tucked it away, and took a deep breath. It was then that I smelled it. Not burning and ash of the tower ruin around us. No. This was something far more sinister… and the source was the rift. On instinct and experience both… I knew that scent. Nessus.

I shuddered. Nessus? Mercy of Ilmater… let this be anywhere but my mind. The depth of the burden I carried only seemed to stretch unfathomably… and I was aware that if not for faith at all… I would have been crushed by the dark depth of it. I couldn’t say how long I stood mulling thought and prayer, while the others contemplated the rift… I was drawn from my somber thoughts by Kliron’s question.

‘How are you?’

I blinked at him and shook my head. I felt like I was losing my mind… if I hadn’t already. I couldn’t find words for how I felt. Not that it wouldn’t take hours to list it off anyway. He gave me a reassuring pat on the back. An uncharacteristic Mercy from the Silent Watchman… He who is above such things as emotion. I took great comfort in that moment. Perhaps more than we each knew at the time. If he can find heart in that place, in the face of so much… then I could find the strength to endure… if not for my own sake… then for all of them. I pointed to the fissure.

‘It leads to Nessus.’

Had the dead Thayan meant to close it? Open it wider? Either way… he had failed. The sacrificial imp long since dead, he too, dead from the power he had attempted to weild.

‘Why is there an opening to the Hells -in your mind-?’

I blinked at the question. It sounded almost accusatory. Siomir beat me to the answer though.

‘Alright. What were the souls in the Soulkeep for? Trading, right?’

‘Currency, yes.’

‘Well then there you go.’

Indeed… how else would they get to the Hells? We began to contemplate ways to seal the rift. The ground heaved violently. Kliron reached toward the rift… We were quick to react. There was yelling and cursing, with little thought to the impact, Siomir grabbed him and jerked him from the rift’s vicinity rather violently. He went soaring through the air, his trajectory and speed fueled by a burst of adrenaline. Poor man hit the nearby ruined wall with a sickening thud. He was alive… but unconscious. I prayed for the man that I saw as a father figure. Despite our distance and differences… he was nearly as much a father to me as Brother Dracius… Another thought worried me though. What force could be strong enough to overpower -his- will power? What could compel him to seek a fate such as the one he was blindly walking toward?

I fought against a wave of panic and fear. I was vaguely aware of the conversation on how to close the rift. I closed my eyes and let the smell of Jasmine waltz through my mind. I filled my thoughts with comforting moments. In the end there is only Mercy. I will endure this. We will endure this. Together. I was vaguely aware of them pooling resources together. They had what they needed to close it. Close the rift to the hells… One step. One step on a path of many. We would end this…

‘Meri I can close the rift if you wish? Do you wish me to close it?’

I blinked at her. What an odd question. Of course I wanted it closed. Why did Dajala even waste time asking… it was a rift to the -Hells- … in -my- supposed mind! She couldn’t close it fast enough. It’s no wonder I had trouble controlling my temper lately… I mean aside from the near insanity… mind shattering, wizard tampering, at least one demon, apparently a host of souls, and the gods only know what else that we haven’t uncovered yet…

‘Well… if this IS Soulkeep… it stands to reason that closing this would at least keep the souls stuck here from going to the Hells. Not to mention it is -in my head-. Can we close it? Please?’

We began to prepare.

‘We would have to find... a way to let them out... the ones trapped... I don't care what that thrice damned Thayan did... I will not be his trinket. I will not keep them prisoner here.’

We readied components, we could again cast and call prayers so we caught our breaths a moment, and lay down protective magics. Dajala began to prepare the ritual to seal the opening. Once things were settled, we shoved the dead wizard aside, not Ahriman, but another… At least he was dead. We prepared, unsure what to expect, we readied for as much as was possible. Kliron slowly started to wake from his daze. We readied spell and weapon, giving everything and everyone one last look over.

Dajala began…

It was a painstakingly slow process. In increments almost too small to measure, the rift began to close. Souls shrieked against the barrier. Dajala’s mind consumed by the effort of the spell, I offered prayers for guidance and protection… strength and faith… Her eyes glazed over as she focused solely on the spell. The rift let loose a blinding flash, and its energies seemed to wobble.

In the farthest points of thought, I felt the familiar, malicious presence that I knew was An’grath. I pushed him away, lending my strength to Dajala. She calls the arcane energy… bending it to her need. She let out a choked scream as the ground heaved… It knocked us all from our feet. Dajala struggled to maintain consciousness and close the rift. Another scream, as I called protective prayers, she fell back. Tessian caught her as she crumbled to the ground. Rith stepped up in her place then… and worked to finish the ritual. The ground shuddered. For a moment it seemed the whole world would shatter around us. Another flash of light as the energies in opposition lashed against each other.

A pale, clawed hand reached up through the tear and sought to rip it back wide… Rith strained against it as Kliron and Tessian got Dajala to her feet. Joan and Siomir took blade to the hand… the whole place threatened to collapse around us yet again… Rith and Dajala focused so hard. I prayed, lending each as much strength as was mine to give, and finally… in one last colossal shudder and flash of light… it closed. Everything went still for a moment, we held our breath and waited for the light to recede… but it didn’t. Instead we fell again…
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: Library of Souls
PART THIRTEEN: FAMILIAR FACES

Where we next found ourselves, was a library of sorts. Very similar to how I remember the Candlekeep Library. If not for the utter impossibility of it, and the smell of sulfur, I would think that we -were- in Candlekeep. Something seemed wrong, and at this point, when I say this… I mean more wrong than the absolute wrongness of the whole debacle. We each struggled to get our bearings as eyes took in the meeting hall we stood in. Then we heard a scream and the sound of a door… To our right a ghostly figure burst through.

‘You! You've got to help me! They're coming!’

We startled.

‘Oh gods they're coming!’

He looked so afraid… so lost. He looked over his shoulder and screamed in utter terror and pain… as quickly as the spirit had appeared… he was gone, the door stood open behind him. We each looked at each other, our expressions displaying an array of varied emotions. I wondered what my own face looked like then… As I realized that the poor soul was one of many trapped in Soulkeep. So much pain and suffering. Was I somehow to blame? Mercy of Ilmater… I will do as needs must… just let me set them free… some way… just guide my path and let them find peace.

We walked through the gaping door. Shelves upon shelves… books of people. Their thoughts and lives… catalogued neatly. Souls trapped here? Their minds made into books? My eyes roamed over the number of them, and I thought that I was going to be ill. Dearest Mercies! If each book represented a trapped soul… there were thousands. Books as far as one could see, floor to ceiling shelves, crammed full of books… book after book… it was dizzying.

‘I'm coming for you! Don't think because your in here you'll escape!’

‘Harker?!’

I jumped at the familiar voice… but my thoughts were drawn away as an blood chilling scream echoed through the library. We turned as a portal hummed to life and a faint, so very faint, formless shadow was pulled through.

‘Meri? Meri… look…’

Dajala held up a book, her life story, and I watched in shock as the words continued to write… the story unfinished… and the author penning it even as we drew breath…



I snapped the book shut. We were stuck here too it seemed… we needed to find the way out. We looked as the portal drew another soul through, and when we turned back, a pile of books sat on the floor… about us… and unfinished. One for each. Merciful Ilmater… I wasn’t going to allow this place to have more… especially not those dear to me. The books sent Rith into another fit of anger because they were written in Dajala’s hand. She demanded how Dajala wrote them, that she was a spy… I didn’t understand it… but it was Siomir who interjected.

‘You have been spy!? I mean… how else did you write these?’

She turned and pointed to me accusingly.

‘And it starts with -you-!’

‘The places in her head aren't just -her-. They are influenced by the wizard and what he did. We know Meri. This isn’t -Meri-.’

Rith continued. Her rage and indignation taking hold. I was pleading with her to calm down. I tried to reason… and was just as surprised as she was when Siomir snapped at her.

‘Rith, shut up! You need to calm down -now-. Close down the paranoia and -Focus-. Notice I didn't say a word about trust... But you do need to quit distracting yourself.’

‘Meri should of known better than bring her here.’

‘I swear this is not how I intended things to happen. I didn’t--’

‘She didn't bring any of us here. It just happened. So... Leave. It. Be. I think we have -enough- damned problems right now.’

Further arguments were cut short by Harker’s words.

‘I can hear you... Stop hiding!’

We followed the sound of his angered voice to find him standing in the middle of a pile of slashed and shredded books. And he was tearing apart more. What if he was destroying -souls- not books?

‘Harker!’

‘You! Bitch! I've been waiting a long time!’

He glared at me with a scathing hatred I thought he only reserved for Drow… not that he didn’t have a reason to hate me… but still… I winced. Siomir drew his sword and pointed it at Harker as he gave me an icy, venomous smile. He leered at the challenge Siomir offered.

‘Siomir, no… I’ve earned his wrath.’

‘Go on... do it... let's see if your pet elf can do a better job than the last one.’

‘No! Just stop it.’ Harker may be a bastard but he doesn’t deserve to be here any more than the others. I won’t leave them here… and I won’t let you destroy more, Harker.’

He and Siomir exchanged threats and words a moment. Talked of destroying each other’s books. Harker knew he was destroying -people-. Well it -is- Harker at least. Careless jerk that he is. How did he get here though? If Firavain killed him in the mountains… then how did he get here?

‘All of these poor bastards are stuck here. I am doing them a -favor- destroying them.’

‘By destroying their pasts? Their memories?’

‘At least they won't be folding devils in Baator... it'll... just be like a final rest.’

‘There has to be a better way to set them free.’

‘Does it -matter-?’

‘Yes!’

Once again Harker and I were at odds, and nearly at each other’s throats.

‘I don’t want them destroyed. I want them free.’

He laughed, threw a book at Siomir and bolted for the nearest door. Rith cast a spell as escaping her eyes is a very difficult thing to do. Once he was caught again he growled and grumbled, the contempt he felt for me was almost palpable. I tried to reason with him, to get him to help, if only to serve his own ends, but as usual there was no reasoning with him.

We were supposedly dead, though when exactly such a state occurred was any one’s actual guess… there were many points were we could have slipped unknowingly into death. Still… there was a chance that we were not dead. A chance… and it was that hope that we worked from. Siomir head butted Harker, still holding onto the angry man.

‘So... if you like the idea of freeing the souls, you help, or I snap your back like a green twig. Forever paralyzed... think it over.’

‘Please! Can you all just stop being angry... its not doing any good.’

Siomir smiled at me.

‘I'm not angry. He's not dead and in pieces yet.’

‘Your pet's a piece of shit Meri... I liked the blonder one better.’

‘They aren't my pets Harker. I don't have -pets-.’

How dare he parallel me to the Matron! I didn’t have a chance to speak further… Harker burst into laughter… that was cut short as Siomir whispered almost lovingly into his ear and squeezed him with an almost rib cracking ferocity.

‘I'm a bastard, not a piece of shit.‘

He squeezed tighter, and Harker screamed.

‘Get it right.’

‘STOP IT! Let him go… it isn’t worth it.’

Siomir let Harker collapse in a heap on the floor.

‘That's... that's it! Haha, you bastard... you're like me...I like you.’

Harker coughed and grimaced in pain… stumbling to remain standing. We decided to move on without his -help-. I shook off my irritation with him and we continued to explore the place. The number of books was astonishing. We came to a room… with another familiar face, and one that was far more insidious than Harker’s. Quite possibly one face that hated me more than any other. Or at least as much as his mother… Izzinidia'drin Baenund, youngest son... And my greatest tormentor in those days shrouded in darkness… stood there, cloaked in spells.

Wordlessly he stared at me. My anger not quite under control… and the past jumbling with bits of the present… I resorted to an old insult. A safety measure… because it would anger him so badly that he would stop his painful toying and kill me outright… of course death was always only a temporary reprieve, but by the time life found me again… he had grown bored.

‘Dos Fa'la zatoast Dalharuk d'natha Orbb's Ssindossa!’
'You Bastard Son of a Spider's (germbag)!'

He grinned and drew his finger across his throat in a murderous promise… and disappeared.

‘You know this tunnel monkey, Meri?’

‘I will take that as a ‘dispel and kill it’.‘

‘I know him well enough that I should thank him for -survival lessons-.’

Tessian grimaced now, he knew which scars were from survival lessons. I didn’t know he was capable at looking at some one with such anger…

‘Please return… I have to kill you.’

Joan spoke sweetly when she wished to. We looked about for a form we couldn’t find. We expected that he was trying to bait us into a trap of sorts.

‘Still trying to bait us? Can I kill him, Meri, slowly?’

‘Rith… don’t ask me that. Not about him. I would either have to lie to answer, or forsake every oath ever made… Izzin holds only a place of contempt in my heart… If you must kill him… and I am sure you will have to… do so quickly.’

My words carefully chosen… barely hid my true feelings on the matter. An old familiar game as he hid from sight, instinctively… I waited for the fatal cut. Fortunately the others were with me this time. And they intended to keep me standing. Another advantage to fighting with a certain group often enough and long enough: We made ready efficiently. Point and rear guard called. I readied bandages. Offensive and defensive stances were claimed… spells readied… and we waited, moved as an efficient group… until we were struck blind by spellfire.

The battle was unexpectedly difficult as many of Izzin’s fallen siblings were there to aid him. Absent though was mother and oldest sister. He nearly fell Rith.

‘Die pathetic little Elf!’

Blinding blows from Siomir sent him skittering to the shadows… and we had a respite to recover some. Then he stepped from the shadows and was dangerously close to me.

‘You shall die an agonizing death yeunn rothé!’

‘You always were a disappointment Izzin. That is why Mother Dearest fed you to the driders.’

As we came to blows yet again, his rage focused on me, he did not see the deadly arc Siomir’s blade made as Rith’s spell made him vulnerable. With an agonizing shriek full of all the hate and anger to be found… he fell into nothingness. Rith was surprised by the strength of the Drow… Kliron was missing.

‘I hate this place.’

‘Rith, deal with it.’

‘Don't you do this to me.’

She and Siomir glared at each other.

‘I don't need to loose all my friends here.’

‘We won’t lose each other, Rith… I won’t let it come to that.’

‘How can you control that and not anything else?!’

Now she screamed at me. I was raw… mentally, emotionally, spiritually… physically if the body still subsisted, and her words struck tender places. But she had a point. That stung the most.

‘I will do as I am able… as needs must. I will continue to do my best and hold faith that it will be enough.’

‘Rith! That's not the point.’

‘I meant my friendship not people... those who I thought were my friends here so far... have proven otherwise.’

Her words really stung… how could she think that any of this I had done to cause her harm? How could she think I wasn’t trying my hardest. She didn’t even realize what I was willing to give up… to see them all safely from here…

‘Right now you are reminding me of some people you don't like much.’

He gave her a leveling look.

‘All the traits they have that you complain about, you are falling into.’

She stopped rather shortly… I stood staring for along moment at the place where Izzin had fallen… I prayed never to see him again… and never would be too soon.

‘He's been here for so long... the others tried to stop him. He and his sister…’

We all turned to the spirit of a woman. She looked familiar… she seemed… known. Shi’nae… I knew that name… I know I did.

‘I think the master made him…’

‘Made him?’

She suddenly looked around fearfully.

‘I should hide, he will be back soon… You should hide too.’

I remembered what Harker had said about the demon that took tithes of souls from here. He came in through a portal… so far I had seen at least three though… still if someone could get in here, there had to be a way out.

‘If he finds you... he'll take you too.’

She walked with us as we searched for Kliron.

‘I think there are only a few of us left now. He has taken the rest.’

Who went unanswered as well as why… and who was left, and how many… only a few souls left? What did that mean? did that mean I was too late to save so many? I thought of the books… I wanted to cry. Oh how Mercy must have wept. If only I had understood sooner… or been stronger… somehow… Was there more I could have done? Maybe my best -wasn’t- good enough. Either way… it was too late now… I had to keep going. We had to keep going. First we had to find Kliron.

‘Oh! Visitors… how -quaint-’

I almost smiled at the familiar voice, the all too familiar sarcasm. I nearly wouldn’t have believed it possible if not for the impossibility of the whole blasted situation, and then my heart sank for the one that stood before me was not the Little Shadow… but his Spirit.

‘Din! How…?’

The confusion evident, he shook his head.

‘I could ask you the same question, priestess.’

‘Merielle, who are these people?’

‘Friends, Joan.’

Din shrugged.

‘I think I just got careless.’

Dajala suddenly ran off from the rest of us to find Kliron. Din shrugged after her.

‘That is how it starts… Then the lost ones ... stay lost.’

‘Dajala no! We shouldn’t separate.’

We went to find her and found both her and a very dead Kliron. So Din continued. I knelt to see what could be done for Kliron.

‘We are in some sort of odd soul gem. There is a devil that visits. He calls himself Tholmek, and he comes to collect souls now and then for a ‘tithe’.’

Siomir’s whole demeanor had changed. When he heard the name he became -very- interested in what Din was saying. Very. Shi’nae looked at Din.

‘We should hide. He will be here soon.’

‘Why? We are already dead.’

Mercy of Ilmater… we had to stop all this somehow… I prayed and in my prayer I saw an image. A wizard hunched over a globe. The Wizard thought he had tricked someone he called ‘The Duke’ but he had not… A devil comes through a portal and stalks the halls of this place… gathering souls as he goes… some run to another portal, but never make it.

It was apparent Siomir knew the name of this devil, it was also apparent that we needed to stop this. All of it. I was starting to not really care how. I wanted my mind to be my own… I wanted them free… -I- wanted to be free…

Kliron…I prayed… again the task was horribly draining… and the whole place seemed to shudder, threatening to fall apart around us with the effort of drawing him from death. No sooner had I finished than another figure… not familiar readily to me appeared… he spoke to Shi’nae and Din… and the trio went to hide… Before we had a chance to get our bearings, and no sooner than we had dragged Kliron to his feet, there was a blast of heat.

The door that stood between us and the source of the heat turned to ash. Siomir laughed that feral, almost maniacal way that he does when he get -into- a battle. Before us stood a devil… and Siomir would either kill it or die a thousand times trying… laughing the whole time. I shook off the disturbing thoughts and we prepared for battle as best as we could.
It seemed to be the devil speaking. It echoed in our minds, and through the halls… we heard others going to hide and shrieking in fear. The battle was fierce… the frightening part was not the battle… but the way Siomir fought the creature. Putting two and two together as he ripped teeth from the dying devil’s head… This was the one that had tormented Siomir in the past. The Devil screamed and howled in rage… and as it died it vanished into a cloud of swirling ash. Once again we stood victorious… and battered. We couldn’t take much more of this. We needed to find the way out. The portals. It had to be one of the portals. I had never seen Siomir... like that... and prayed I never would again... I almost pitied any who would find themselves on the wrong side of that primal fury.

We continued to explore the place, seeking an active portal or one that we could activate. Instead we found seven… all inactive… And one more familiar face.

‘Father?’

Dajala looked to the golden haired, Elven man who did indeed share a striking resemblance. It however did not want us examining the portals… and he smiled a bit too… much… at Dajala.

‘Get back out there.’

‘It’s not him Dajala... its a trick.’

‘Ignore the human and get back out there girl. I am your father and you will obey me.’

The thing continued to insist… though by his words it was clear he was not her father… and had no love for anything in his heart. We tried to get her to see him for the lie he was… but instead she fell into his sway. He ordered her to attack us, and she was willing to obey. Even as Kliron broke his neck… and it stood there still talking, ordering her about… his head lolling disturbingly on the broken neck. Kliron’s actions against her ‘father’ enraged her. I grabbed hold of her and spoke softly in her ear, keeping her restrained… from casting and attacking… and I prayed.

‘Dajala… your father would not condemn you to this place! Look. See him for what he is.’

She continued to let the thing hold her will… the others rejoined us… only to see a creature that looked like her father still standing with a broken neck… Rith blasted a spell through its belly and it -still- stood… macabre as it was… I knew if it was her father… he was dead… and the devil held the body. If it wasn’t her father, it was an elaborate trick. I continued to plead in her ear for logic and reason to take hold. Whispered prayers to strengthen her mind… She fought to get free from my arms. It called us mortals… it spoke subtle little mistakes… still she could not see. She urged her father to run, tried to defend it, but I wouldn’t let go.

‘Dajala… you know me. I’ll not let you do this. I won’t let you come to harm. My strength is yours Dajala.’

‘Get out of my head, Meri! Let me go! Father…’

‘No Dajala… not your father. I am not letting go. I am your friend dear.’

Kliron punched it with such force it split open his ribcage… and the resulting gore… nearly turned my stomach… Still the thing stood there and tried to reason with his ‘daughter’. I shifted my grip on Dajala enough to cover her eyes with one hand and still hold her.

‘Look Dajala. See with your -heart-. HE is NOT your Father! Look!’

Her struggling stopped, and I prayed. The Devil smiled sickeningly at Dajala.

‘Obey me, my child. Just kill them, and we can be happy here. She won’t let you be happy.’

He pointed accusingly at me, but finally Dajala saw… and finally she struck at him… another barely won battle against another familiar… or seemingly familiar face. Dajala apologized as she struggled to regain her bearings. Rith called a sonic spell, and threw it at the devil with such force that it literally exploded. What was left of him shattered into a bloody mess.

We had won… we had each faced our own sort of test. Each of us. We stood. Together. Now if we could only get the portal out of here active…
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: Library of Souls
PART FOURTEEN: OPENING A DOOR…

We studied the seven portals. Each had three words written on them. We studied the portals and words. We threw up all manner of conjecture as to how to solve the portal riddles. Find the one who describes home best… the odd word… look for the meaning in the three words. Hours we spent throwing up ideas but none of them came to any sort of fruition. I prayed for some sort of guidance… and that was when a long standing riddle danced through my mind…
I remembered the inscription on the other portal in the Sharran temple… it bore similar lines… we didn’t need one portal, we needed all of them. We were running out of time. Something far worse… and far greater than we could deal with was coming… there was something there that did not appreciate our intrusion. The whole place was shuddering and threatening to topple on us. We had to hurry. I couldn’t say how we knew it was coming… but we knew…and as much as I feared An’grath’s power in this place… this was worse.

We scrambled from portal to portal… I had to touch the right word on each. Time was against us. Badly. There is no way to put the urgency of it into words. It was hard to think under such conditions… I prayed desperately. Our time was up, the place was coming apart. If we didn’t get out now… we weren’t getting out. We needed a metaphor. My idea of home… of Toril… and we needed it fast. VERY FAST. We ran to the first portal.
I touched the First rune. It shimmered to life and Dajala read a gate scroll… seeing as our options were scrolls or sacrifices… we naturally went with scrolls… it shimmered to life with blue light… and waited for the others, and the final one to be activated. We ran to the next portal.
This one was obscure… all three could exist, could be home to some measure… So I made my most sound choice. Death seemed more ill aligned with where we wanted to go. Night seemed more the plane of shadow… but if there was one thing that Toril had plenty of, it was hate. I touched the third rune… and we moved on as it shimmered to life with Dajala’s spell.
Solidarity… faith… Absolution. I reached up and touched the portal… Dajala worked the incantation. Four more. The place shook and shuddered. Large bits of masonry crashed to the floor. An impending doom pressed in on our thoughts. Something terrible was coming… We had to hurry. Could we survive what was coming? Who knew, but we dared not remain to find out… time worked against us.
Again I reasoned and prayed… so far my prayers guiding me rightly. Loss… effects all of us in the end. Much to lose if we didn’t make it home… fortunately, though I was less certain… the portal glowed blue and waited as the others. We moved on quickly to the next.
I touched the earth rune without much thought. The place groaned with titanic footfalls of … something sinister. Something that chilled my blood. The portal hummed to life as Dajala cast.
At first I thought perhaps that ash meant something sinister… the Hells or perhaps the plane of Fire. Lord perhaps to do with the gods n some measure… and touched the wind rune. It glowed an eerie red, and smelled of ammonia… Strange things came through and I touched the Lord rune thinking it pertained perhaps to faith in a broader sense. The creatures were defeated and the portal glowed blue and waited.

We ran swiftly to the last portal… Several times, violent shaking knocked us from our feet. Even with my balance… I could barely stay standing. Something so darkly sinister lurked so close. I prayed desperately. Kliron and The others practically dragged me to the final portal.
I ruled out the first… Mind… well it stood to reason that was where we were… in the formless realms of thought. With barely enough time to spare I touched the Form rune and the portal sprang to life… Our way open we stepped through as something howled in inhuman rage and I glanced back only to see the very place tumbling down. The last riddle done… would leave naught but destruction behind… Oh how I prayed. Din, Shi’nae and the third Elven spirit followed… but even now I cannot say they got out… or with certainty what happened in those last second. We stepped through the portal, and in a blinding flash… Everything spun wildly. I felt myself being torn to shreds then slammed back together violently… And there was only darkness.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
MINDSCAPE: Candlekeep Inn
PART FIFTEEN: UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

I heard a whisper. Pleading and so very faint.

‘I'm sorry for everything. I don't really hate you now… I never did. I still think your friend… and I need you to wake because I think I'm finally ready to let you help me. Remember? Just south of the merchant campfire? You said if I needed help… You said… You can try to help me… all I needed to do is tell you what was wrong. I'm ready. I think you need to know, and if you go with this image you have of me... I'll never forgive myself so you need to come back.’

Come back? Where… was I? Flashes of thought, some things distant, some more recent. I struggled to make sense of so much. I couldn’t find direction. I drifted aimlessly in the darkness. I heard… I heard Rith’s words. I hear others too. All of them. Whispered bits of love and encouragement, gentle mercies and soft prayers. It was an aching and yet beautiful thing. I wanted to tell them I was alright… but I couldn’t find them… only darkness. So I prayed.

‘Merciful Ilmater… I ask your guiding hand, Hope’s light… that I may find my way back to them. If my tasks are finished then I ask to rest at your feet… if not, I beg the second chance… Please.’

I felt the gentlest embrace of all that is Mercy as my lord answered me. Gently I was pushed forward… until at once the strings of mortal coil caught hold and I went rushing away from the darkness… and into the most blindingly painful headache I had ever known in my life… and the very detailed memory of what had just happened.

The others were relieved when I groaned in pain weakly… because, as it turns out… I had died. Badly weakened and more than a little confused… they brought me home to the orphanage. Tessian says I slept for days… but I have such terrible nightmares… and horridly vivid recollections of some things that were brought to the surface by the wanderings of the mind… sleep is difficult. Thought is difficult. I am left with so many questions. And some I wonder if I ever will.

Is it over?

Did we destroy it?

Is Soulkeep gone?

What of the trapped souls?

What really happened ten years ago, what did the wizard do?

Will the Drow still hunt, the Thayans?

Is my mind finally my own?

Did we banish the demon An’grath?

What was that thing that we felt as we readied to leave, another demon? Another devil?

Is the path to the hells closed?

What about the diamond that is still in my pack, or the books?

How did the ones like Din, Harker, Emrys, any of them really… how did they get there?

So many loose ends. I will have to rest more I think. Tessian says I have slept for the last several days straight. Fortunately I have many dear friends. They have kept the orphanage and temple running in my stead. I feel better… perhaps I can slowly start resuming my duties…

Tessian has been ever devoted to me, he would breathe for me if I needed him to. Jonas visits regularly, and Ali and others help with the children, the temple, the cooking and the cleaning. How I miss feeling useful… but at least I cannot say I do not feel loved. Blessed I am to be many things… Most blessed of all to be called friend… Most blessed am I for my most precious mercy that I have… my husband.

Without these two things… and my faith… I fear to think what could have happened… though I wonder what is yet to come. What is left undone? All things in time perhaps. The things that they endured for my sake… that we endured for the sake of many… We have not walked from this unscathed and unchanged… it has effected us all in different ways. At some point I would like to speak with them all on it. Further unravel the mystery of all of it… but for now I rest.

It may take a while for the nightmares to slow again, but in the meantime… I’ve Tessian to wake to. It makes the nightmares easier to bear. We have endured this far… In the end there really is only Mercy… even if we haven’t quite reached the end of all things yet, The Hand of Mercy ever guide me. Always.
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND EIGHTY-NINETH ENTRY]

The proposal wasn’t a dream!! Joan and Siomir are to be wed. Dajala and Firavain are officially a complete pair… irrevocably so. News I did not expect from Siomir or Firavain… and I am overjoyed for each. Joy beyond measure for my dear sister Joan… seems she finally has found happiness for herself. I tease and torment about making pancakes for the wedding. It is after all, family tradition now. Still I will settle for making her dress. It shall be a grand thing.

It is strange… now that the headache has finally passed, leaving in its wake some lingering fatigue… There is peace. Dare I hope I have found it in lasting measure after all this time? No longer are my thoughts clouded with the doubts of others. I am balanced, my thoughts my own. I had never truly realized how much they were not… It is still and quiet in a way that is difficult to explain. Gone is the influence of the demon, the constant battle. Gone too are the nightmares that would chase me from sleep so often, the dread at closing my eyes only to open them to inner horrors. There have been normal dreams, of doubts and fears… but the vivid myriad of torments have fled as surely as the Wizard’s realm collapsed around us.

The anger has fled me, leaving in its wake, thoughtful reflection. That same anger and fury that nearly caused me to kill those so very dear to me…How close I came to failing all of them in that place. How close I came to faltering… And yet… Here I stand. They are well also, though such journeys are not taken lightly, and none have passed from that place unscathed. I worry for Firavain, who has apparently taken to heavy drinking. There is much he and I will have to speak of when he is ready. It seems to have perhaps been a catalyst for Joan and Siomir… Drawn Tessian and I closer in more ways than I can fathom… it even seems to have benefited Rith, who for the first time in all my days, has opened her thoughts to me… and she seems better for the lessons learned.

Merciful Ilmater… I must ask your forgiveness… My greatest trial, and I nearly failed you. It was not my faith in your Mercy that faltered… but your faith in me. My faith in myself… the faith of those dear to me. Now though, I see that it was the very faith that I doubted, that sustained me in that place. Even as we grew angry and afraid in that place… we maintained our unity, even in moments of discord. That is friendship, loyalty… it is hope given form. Of all the things I needed to do or see in this journey… That was perhaps the most important.

For the first time in my life… in all the years I remember… The whole of my being is mine. My thoughts are my own. There is no voice in my mind that I do not wish there. Ilmater… my own thoughts… Tessian, and the bond Jonas and I share… No ill-whisperings. I had not known I lacked such stillness, and I am blessed for it. I am blessed for each of them that I call dear. Beloved, treasured… Friends.

I wonder what shall come of this peace. If I am no longer a hunted trinket… is it safe to consider children? I pray it is not a Mercy to be denied me, but will be content in my path, regardless of what it holds. So long as the Hand of Mercy remains at my back… Still, a child of my own would please me beyond measure, if Mercy wills such, and duty allows. I know it would please many to some measure or another… but it is a selfish request. I ask for many things as I have walked… forgive me of my selfish heart to ask one more.

I have grown unused to travel, my trip to Candlekeep and back has left me worn… The populace is unused to the novelty they think my presence is… I have grown unused to the attention. I have no doubt that things will fall into place as they should soon. For now, Tessian has tea… and I do long for rest… if only after a quiet game of checkers…
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND NINETIETH ENTRY]

The days have passed peacefully enough, with no real disastrous bits. There was a bit of a ruckus over a snake that one of the boys brought in. Mercy of Mercies that Tessian is not nearly so unsettled by the silent and possibly deadly creatures. It was a grand bit of chaos, I won’t lie about that. Should have seen me trying to pretend to be calm, long enough to keep the children calm… We had a nice long talk about bringing animals in the orphanage after that.

Tessian wrote me a sweet little poem. He read it to me over breakfast. Absolutely adorable, though he should probably refrain from writing while hungry, and avoid reading it to any creature that might think a Meribird was a tasty snack. Still it was very precious, and cheered me, though I have hardly been in a bad mood of late. If he doesn’t stop spoiling me so… I do not wish to become some over pampered creature. Even if I do adore his every attention.

There have been no further troubles with the tea supply. I am once again pleasantly re-stocked. We want or need for little at the temple or orphanage. We’ve had so much help while I recovered, there was scarce little for me to do with the exception of some re-organization, and minor tidying. Suspiciously, halfway through the day, most often after my morning cleaning routines and afternoon ones… the mops disappear. I keep having to buy new ones. Most annoying… there is some bit of mischief afoot, I know it.

We’ve a regular supply of teachers for the children, volunteers to help with almost all things. I have been able to focus more on the temple. I do need to speak to Brother Rente though. No doubt my recent heart troubles and such will be of particular interest to him for his studies. That is a conversation I find I almost dread… But will not impede his duties to the Ilmatari. I hear from visiting Jonas and the others of the Radiant Heart that some of the new initiates are being threatened… I will have to speak with them also to get more details. I will not have those that do Mercy’s work, doing so fearfully.

Jonas and the others have been a great Mercy of late. A good thing to have such help because I have actually gotten used to a full night’s rest, when allowed, which has been mostly. I have no need to hide from sleep these days. In fact my schedule has become fairly regular. The children are well versed in many things with such grand help. That is the important part. Things are well tended all around.

Two of the infants we had with us were recently placed. This leaves us with one more infant. Young Peter is still with us. We’ve one child a few years old… the majority of them are between six and seven with a few older children to help with chores and such. The oldest boy, Jimmy, has been helping Thomas with his farm work. The dear boy saves half of the coin he makes, and offers the other half to the temples of the Triad. Only a few coins every tenday or so, but my heart beams, and Mercy smiles on such things.
~~

I went for a walk today. Decided to visit Siomir and the others at Doron Amar. It has been long since I walked that far, but for once, I did not hesitate as I sought my way through the woods. I still walk well protected when not well guarded… Jonas and Siomir would have a fit, as would many others if I did not. Though I have seen no cause to worry of late. Seems those that would amuse themselves with my demise have grown bored of it.

Even on this seemingly simple outing, I am reminded how every day, I am tested. From the smallest acts of Mercy and the easiest kindnesses… to the more difficult ones. I came upon a large group of familiar, and worried faces near Doron Amar. Things moved quickly from there but the lesson is not lost on me, Ilmater tested…

They ushered me over and to take cover, watchful and whispering of assassins. They urged me to quickly come tend to a girl. A mere slip of a girl, mostly starved and barely alive. An arrow lodged dangerously near to her heart. Barbed in a cruelly familiar fashion… I had seen arrows such as this. They were Izzin’s favorite. Painful and nearly impossible to remove without causing horrible damage. My mind did not yet register the more sinister aspects of the task ahead.

I readied as carefully as I could to see the arrow removed, nearly missing the small vial in the shaft of the arrow. Meant no doubt to kill victim or rescuer or both… One of the Blake twins called it to my attention. I had nearly killed the girl. Girl they wished alive for information… information? My mind worked through it. Her complexion, she was not merely a small child… but a young Elf… with silver hair… and--

My thoughts were cut short by howls of wolves drawn to the scent of blood. Still trying to work around the poison I called sanctuary over the girl and I, and Firavain who still urged me on as the girl’s breathing grew shallow and her heart faint. Shock would claim her before we found a trap-springer to remove the vial. Drow toxin… especially deadly. I called protections and strengths for she and I both. Carefully, I positioned us both. I could survive it, where she could not. So as the arrow was removed by as steady a hand as I could manage, I asked for a Greater Mercy… and bore what she could not.

Dazed, I watched the others tend the girl’s wound. She would survive, they would get their information. A difficult thing to offer any Mercy to one who is the enemy. I passed out I think, because the next thing I knew, I was in Doron Amar… Marveling at what had passed. I didn’t understand it, but for some reason Drow were about… and one tried to kill the other.

Either way, I left the Elven politics to the Elves. Instead Siomir and I chatted for a while. About children. I want at least one of my own… our own… Tessian and I. It seems everyone is eager for ‘Little Saintlings’ as they have so affectionately been called of late. This is simply something for Ilmater to decide. There is no faulting on any side, and nothing else to be done that hasn’t been done to aid the process. Mercy willing, there will be children… By no other than that, so for now I must be patient and hopeful.
~~

Jonas and Uriel came to see me today. Along with them, the Seargent at Arms, Grunga, who was in her normal sour mood. There was trouble with Galen. I had heard bits of rumor that he had returned to the coast, and that there was some sort of trouble. What little information Jonas gave me sat heavily on my heart. How I missed the few debates of Mercy and the natural order of things that Galen and I had shared. He was a good man, quiet, and what Jonas described sounded like some sort of possession. Worse yet, what I heard was reminiscent of those touched deeply by the Plane of Shadow… and certain deities.

We quickly made our way to the Flaming Fist compound… How I loathe coming to that place… never has it been for good reason… which is as it should be I suppose, but still… I was wary, Grunga wasn’t pleased, Jonas seemed… determined and set in his ways, poor Uriel looked half sick with worry, and we were joined, be seeming coincidence, by Auriel. We were greeted by Father Cale, who quickly, and dare I say fearfully, informed us that things were worse. Worse enough that he had to ward the bars.

When we approached the cell where the Druid was held… my heart wept. Wreathed in shadows, chained to the far wall of the cell… the Elven man spewed blackened bile and screamed against his bonds. Very clearly possessed of something… and fighting it… though his hope was frail. I listened with wrenched heart as he flitted between the foulness that held him, and his deeply remorseful self as we tried to form some sort of plan.

Galen seemed to melt into the shadows around him… to -become- those shadows. Until the Elven Druid was no longer recognizable, but this thing of darkness and hate. Now freed from the chains on the wall it charged the bars that stood between us. I did not flinch as it thrashed and flailed against its cage. Jonas stayed back while I looked him over as best I could, prayers fell from my lips as quickly as breath. It shrieked at my prayers and writhed. Its fury turned at me now as Galen’s voice was no longer heard at all.

I needed to be closer, but didn’t dare get within arm’s length of the black form, so Jonas drew Torm’s Truth, and the sword glowed with holy insistence. Jonas’ words sent the creature away from the door of the cell and we prepared. If it was Shar… this would be thrice I have stood between her and her goals… I was starting to dislike the shades she holds dear.

I focused on Galen and I prayed, even as the creature within screamed cruelly at us. Told us there was no hope for Galen, that all was lost. I strengthened Galen’s resolves as Jonas demanded the creature release the Elven man.

‘THERE IS NO HOPE. HE IS MINE.’

‘There is always hope… You will not have this one… Mercy has bid him a Second Chance.’

‘MINE! THE LAND WILL BLEED!’

The thing hissed at us and we continued to work the thing loose from the Elf.

‘Release him, and return to the shadow from whence you came, or we shall send you to the Abyss for all time, creature.’

The creature, bent and weakened by our prayers and resolves… fell away from Galen. I watched in worry as the Elf fell to the ground in a heap. Between the healer and the man in need of mending stood a large dark form… deep as the very void and black as the deepest shadows… Its rage and fury meant for us now… the shadows around us shifted. I had barely the time to step back from the bars before the creature charged the door, shattering it.

We fought many, for a good length of time, but eventually the darkness was dispersed. Light filled the small cell, and all shadow was washed away. It took some mending to get him rightly on his feet. His body mended, his mind cleared. I watched as remorse took form on his face, apology and acceptance. It was not my place to do little else than mend him… and see to his state of being.

‘Galen. I know not the principles of your own faith... And have no say over the legalities… but a second chance is mine to offer you, your heart and soul, -if- you will accept such.’

‘I am alive. I feel...clean...yet penance… I… yes I do.’

Indeed. The taint that held him was gone. Even if found accountable for the deaths at his hand while possessed… should he choose to return from whatever fate or death awaited him… His god had forgiven him, now he need only seek the forgiveness of the populace, and his Circle. A second chance and he accepted tearfully. When he was ready, I would help him to earn the forgiveness that would have to come from himself. To help him as I could.

He spoke of being undeserved… and I remembered our old debates. The Mercy of Ilmater is to the least deserving… and as for him being undeserved of our friendship… well that was for us to decide. I took lesson in this as well. For I see even in this, I was being taught. To accept the Mercies offered to me by others.

Auriel and Jonas and I left the two druids to speak. He did not try to leave his cell, it was honor that bound him, no cage or bars or stone doors… but honor and genuine want to set right his own mistakes. Mercy smiled. I was left with much to contemplate. We all were no doubt. None the less, I was aware there was much to catch up on with the others. So I did not refuse the offer to walk to Candlekeep. We talked a great deal about so many different things.

It was good to be out and about. Good to be of use again. It felt good to be sharing Mercies in any measure. So many I had received while I recovered… now it was time for me to return some of my own. Yes the days have passed in lessons. There is always room to learn and grow… and it was these thoughts that stayed with me as I went to rest.
~~

[A letter is tucked neatly in between the pages here.]

Galen'ael wrote:After great personal thought, I have chosen, if it was an option, to forgo a trail for my slaying of travelers upon the Tradeway.

I have been granted a second chance with an act of abject kindness and Mercy.

I have no excuse for my crimes, I am guilty of them. The darkness that inhabited me, my own choice, even if it is now gone.

I will await whatever justice the Fist and Lord Eltan decide upon. In my younger days in this Land, I preached alliance and cooperation and would not see these efforts undone.

I only ask that my remains be turned over to Saint Merielle.

The kindness shown to me does not excuse me of my crimes and my honor will not allow me to see it otherwise.

I only hope those I wronged were healed and that the gods will show me the Mercy they did this past day.

*signed*

Galen'ael Glenstalker

[ONEHUNDRED AND NINETY-FIRST ENTRY]

My prayers are not only to Ilmater this day, but to the whole of the Triad. There is much work to do it seems. Justice has been served as rightly as can be hoped for, Mercy weeps, and I pray for the protection of the Loyal Fury, for I can see now what is to come… and my heart weeps. As needs must, faith and heart bid, I have served, in friendship…

I had received a letter. While my heart was heavy for it… I made my way to the Fist Compound to speak with him on it. I walked the path, almost by memory at this point. How many times had I come this way in my time here? More than I care to, but ever as duty bids. This was less duty, and more loyalty though Mercy was still served in such. He was due to be executed as the sun set. I found the unrelenting rain strangely befitting… Nature washing clean, renewing.

‘Oi! Knife ears, you got a visitah! Look sharp you dirty knife ear, she's 'portant aye?’

I suppressed an ill-amused sigh and Galen came to the bars. He nodded first to the jailor, and then looked to me. Despite the circumstances… he looked so calm and collected.

‘Yes. Greetings.’

‘Ten minutes miss.’

I nodded to the jailor and the guardsman, and they walked a pace away.

‘You have forgone trial?’

‘Aye. Ye rep what ye sow. My choice was my own. I will not dishonor those that care for me further… I could not live otherwise… their law, I don't care... it's the right thing to do. I made my choice, even I'm no longer like I was... ye understand?’

'I do understand. If that is your wish, I know better than to try to sway you. I got your letter. I understand you have been asked to be remitted to me specifically?’

‘Aye, I have. Better than ending up on a heap.’

‘I'll not dishonor the request if that is what you want.’

‘Yes it is what I want, justice and the balance must be served. I have done a great evil... I will not shirk… again.’

‘Fair enough. Mercy to you in all ways, as I may offer, and the gods see fit to.’

I nodded. Much can be said in a thing so simple as a look… much that dare not be put to words lest it get lost in translation. Here stood a man, at peace, humbled. Stood on his principles, accepted his mistakes, and was ready to move beyond them. He was an honorable sort, and it honored me that he called me friend, for however a brief amount of time it was in his Elven lifespan.

Technical and procedural details were discussed, and while I did not take kindly to the manners of the jailor… it was hardly worth the time to worry over it.

‘Alright! Time's up.’

I nodded to the Jailor. Galen reached for my hand.

‘Thank you, Merielle.’

I smiled at him and patted his hand.

‘You know you needn’t thank me, Galen.’

I was ushered upstairs to wait. He would be prepared, allowed time for his prayers. It took a fair amount of time. When I saw him again he was bound. My heart wrenched, until I met his eyes. Neither one of us much for good-byes, as we neither one believed such things lasting… I prayed and I followed. We walked to the edge of the city. There we stood. He was silent, resolute. He had truly made peace with what was to come.

The Sergeant stepped forward, unrolled his parchment and read in a calm voice, not overly loud for there was little other than the sound of rain on armor that he needed to compete with.

‘We are gathered here, under the watchful gaze of helm... To see the Duke's fair justice done upon the heads of this criminal... Who, being guilty of the most foul murders of the good citizens of this realm, has been sentenced to death, by the removal of his head from his shoulders. Helm have mercy upon his soul.

Witness for the execution, please state your name…’

The guards had gone silent, I spoke softly.

‘Sister Merielle Silene.’

‘Lets all know that justice is done this day.’

I whispered a prayer to Galen as the world seemed to wait.

‘Mercy of Ilmater to you. There is Mercy in Forgiveness. May you find the Mercy in death, that was not found in life. Mercy of Ilmater keep you… my friend.’

An answering contented sigh, and the druid nodded. He stepped forward without hesitation or complaint and kneeled before the executioner. The rain fell swifter now… I whispered a soft prayer as the axe was raised.

‘Mercy of Ilmater be with you…’

The axe fell swiftly…

‘Mercy of the gods keep you…’

Within that moment, he had found peace.

‘… In the Oak Father’s Embrace…’

The proceedings brought to a close, I returned home. Tomorrow, the mending would begin. Many would grieve in their own way. Some who’s anger would shroud their sadness. I would offer comfort as I could. That is the way of Mercy. That is the place of Duty. There are no tears of indignant loss, only joyful tears of kinder memories. Mercy of Mercies… his wishes would be respected. I only prayed others would understand such.
~~

It has been several days since his execution. Some are angry, some are shrouded in grief. Blame already is being carelessly tossed about. I have done what I could. I fear though that it may not be enough. Angry whispers come from both shadow and light alike. Already the land is washed in blood… the rain continues to fall.

His body was in less than graceful shape when I was granted his remains, as requested. As expected. Despite my gifts, I cannot force him to return. Though he had said he wished that second chance, perhaps time with his god has opened to him another path… or more wisdom than we possessed here. His spirit will not return to his body. Galen'ael Glenstalker is not meant to walk among the living any longer than he has.

It took the entire day, but he was cleansed and prepared for burial. Wrapped in white muslin, bound in red cord. A final Mercy, for a dear friend. Carefully tended, I sent for Uriel as he would have wanted. It was somber to pass him on in such a state. I know it weighed heavily on Uriel. We did not speak then… there would be time for such things later. Silently he took his friend. I laid over his chest a wreath of ivy and white lilies. Uriel nodded to me and departed.
~~

So closed one chapter, and another began. As I said the land was already washed in tears and blood… the rains continued to fall. It made planting seeds easier. I gathered flowers for wreaths. I left sprigs of daisies and poppies about. Symbols of Mercy and healing… I offered what comfort I could to those who would allow it, and let the others grieve in their own way. It was in this second day since I cleansed his body and asked his spirit to return, that I accepted his wishes not to. One final wreath was made.

I filled this wreath with all manner of natures gifts. It took the whole day, and finally as the sun set… it was let loose into the river Chiontar. There I offered final prayers, content that he had found peace and rest. I prayed that the dissension sown by the Shadow Druids would pass, and that wisdom would prevail in bitter hearts… that Mercy would weep… His tears to wash away the pain of those who suffered. The region had grieved the loss of many lately, and it was heavy on even my heart. Still, I was content that in the end of all things… even this… there was only Mercy.

Mercy of Ilmater be with them all… Mercy guide them… May Mercy keep them…
~~

[ONEHUNDRED AND NINETY-SECOND ENTRY]

There is much talk… things aren’t as finished as they seem. There are shadows of late. Figurative and literal. Tarsakh came to speak with me yesterday. He wished to know more of Galen’s last days and his death. He and I spoke at great length over a good deal. Seems the trouble with the Shadow Druids are just beginning. There is outcry at the Fist… at Galen… people are so busy pointing fingers that it saddens my heart.

The rains have yet to let up. I spoke with Jorn, who brought me more flour and grains. At this rate, the crops will be very poor at best. There is already concern that there will be enough food once winter settles in. My worry over such was accentuated by the Arch-druid’s gift of seeds that will grow quickly and produce fruit, to help sustain the orphanage in the days to come. I have sent word to the outlying temples and near by Ilmatari that there may be a short food supply.

Tarsakh also made mention of Talona’s faithful being more active of late. Her taint… and the many other evils that are seemingly unconnected, may well overpower us if we are not vigilant and take action to halt it. We will do as needs must, as faith and heart bids. We will endure this as all else. I have already offered my aid, in whatever capacity I am able in the days to come. These shadows too, will pass. In the end there is only Mercy.
~~

A voice stopped me today as I was headed out of the city. When I turned to see who it was who called to me, I was greeted by helmed figure.

‘Ye got time for a stranger, Lady Merielle?’

‘Of course sir, what can I do for you?’

He motioned me out of the way, and I followed. Cautiously of course… but I could not shake the familiarity that fell upon me. I knew the voice… It would not be long before my suspicions were laid to rest. There in a quiet corner of the Elfsong, he spoke with a grin and reached to remove his helmet.

‘I do like the color blue…’

I looked to the face in front on me in absolutely pleasant surprise.

‘Hello Merielle.’

‘Mercy of Ilmater…’

‘Indeed.’

‘But I don’t understand…’

‘I don't know... tis a long story...I ain't lookin' a gift in the mouth… a gift of mercy as ye said…’

However brief the meeting was… it was a balm to my heart. I do pray for his sake that the hand which intervened on his behalf is a hand guided by Mercy… If not, I fear the implication of such a gift.

The boon to my spirits was short lived. Everywhere there is talk of undead. Talk of war with the Shadow Druids… infighting. Even word that some glorify and honor Eric Lightbringer for his treason and attempted murder of the good Duke Eltan. And to do so with such foul magic after being found guilty of necromancy no less… His use of necromancy before this nearly sparked a far reaching conflict between the druid and the Fist… and for now that may be the least of our worries.

Captain Ardias Guthrun was found murdered. Turned to stone with a strange knife in his chest… I cannot help but think of what I was told about Firavain’s own similar demise. Unfortunately… none who tried to remove the knife expected a trap to trigger… decimating both knife and the body of the captain… so there is no way to prove my suspicions. If the Thayans did have him killed… the implications of such are most dire.

I knew him briefly, but he was a good friend of Sir Crownsilver’s… and no doubt to many. These are dark times indeed… Mercy to those who grieve. May they find comfort that the shadows will pass, and the storm clouds will break. These lands are troubled. Mercy willing… together we will endure such things.
~~

A pleasant trend. Those thought dead that are not so dead. Sir Crownsilver is indeed alive, a great Mercy it is these days. Amid so many deaths, it is nice to have that bright light of hope. He is grieving the loss of friends. I did wish to ease his pain by telling him one is not so lost as he thinks… but I have promised my silence. Perhaps a meeting of old friends can be arranged? I should ask if I do see him again. Justin on the other hand… at least has Valqis to look forward to. She will be so happy to hear he is well, but as much as I want to rush to her with the good news… I will not out of respect for Justin. It is something they should share.

And with the measure of good news… a measure of not so good news. There was an outpouring of undead from the Candlekeep Catacombs beneath the library… And the cause left Valerius and Jonas both seeking me for answers. It seems we are not as finished with Soulkeep as we once thought. There was a fragment of a very large gem… a diamond of sorts… radiating powerful necromantic energy. It was quite a surprise to me… At least now I know what happened to the large heart shaped diamond when we left the mindscape… and If that was what happened… might somehow be related to my own heart attack.

Though how the piece of it ended up beneath the library is anyone’s guess. So I spent a great deal of time at Spellflicker Spire… and explained eleven years of my past in a few hours. Valerius’ curiosity was getting to him I know. How could I give him… any of them all of the details. Especially given such a small time frame. Still, I think I imparted the important details. The piece of the gem found will be destroyed… and by our estimation, there are four more pieces to find. With the widespread reports of increasing undead as far as Beregost… they could be anywhere.

I know my life is a life of duty and service… I wish to be content and serve without question… but I do wish for this to be over. To be free of this thing which has plagued me for much of what I remember… and now plagues and has plagued so many recently. We must move quickly… though I have little idea where to start. Scrying was suggested… but I cannot help but fear the ways such things can go wrong.

With those exceptions, I find myself busy with the children. Some have apprenticeships now, but we still have well over two dozen. Fortunately, there is never a shortage of volunteers. The infants we had with us for a time have been adopted out to fine families. This pleases me greatly, even if I will miss them when they go, I am always overjoyed to see them off to proper homes.

Perhaps the biggest boon to my spirits, aside from Tessian of course… is to watch young Inara play with the other children. The shy toddler blossoms around the children, and she and I have become good friends. Ali, a constant boon and ready aid of late, the dear woman has no idea how precious she is to me. It is nice to have such a kindred soul close by.

Inara alleviates my own want for a child some. There are moments when the want for a child of our own is so much that it draws me to tears. Tessian has not seen such, or if he has… he is merciful not to make a big deal of it. I know he wants a child too, we have talked of such often. However, we have done all we can… if a child is ours to have, then it will be with Ilmater’s blessing. I honestly can say, that if ever there was anything else I dared want for while I yet walked this earth… it would be children. May I be forgiven if it is selfish to allow the woman in the saint such a hope…

Not only that, but to watch Jonas around his daughter… and his ex-wife… I see it. I wonder if they do too. I know Jonas does. I sense the craving. I think he sees now what was given up when they went their separate ways. In the midst of so many proposals… and happy couples… it would be nice to see my dear brother happy. Siomir and Joan are set to be wed, Valerius and Auriel… even Dajala and Firavain. I have agreed very happily to make Joan and Dajala’s dresses. It is good to have such light amid the darkness. Ever there is hope, always… and this is a bright way to light such shadows. All things in time… Mercy willing.
~~