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

I was haunted by the vision of the Nightbringer, but I did not despair as I had before. I would not hide, or sit and cower, or cry. It was a wake-up call of sorts, a fading reflection of what I might become if I continued as I was. It had been a jarring experience, but we had learned two critical things. First, I had inadvertently discovered that I could induce my sister’s visions, and that we could share them as we did the Dreams. Second, and far more importantly, we had learned that the future was not set in stone. We could change it.

So began the time games. We experimented. We changed things, altered conditions in the present and then induced visions to see how it affected the future we saw. Dream, change something, induce a vision, and repeat. We could never derive a clear course of action from what we saw; we could only act, and then induce another vision to see the impact.

Were we crazy? It had certainly occurred to me. I had effortlessly dismissed my sister’s visions in the past, but increasingly her predictions were coming to fruition with disturbing accuracy. The Dreams were so hauntingly consistent and real, that denial became impossibly difficult. However, it was not until we captured the drow raiders on the surface that the crushing reality of our predicament truly hit. We interrogated them. It took little force to make them speak. I asked them about the drow named Cazna, and they confirmed her existence. They gushed and gladly told me all about her. We slit their throats afterward.

We could not derive a course of action, but we had been given a rare shot at a prime variable. The Dreams were elusive, but they so often came back to this one figure. It was Cazna who betrayed us, who executed my Guild members, who killed my lover. She was real. And she had to die.

Of course, we were naïve to think we could break the hourglass without being cut by the shards.

Stygian light poured forth from deep-set, crystalline lamps, breathing the faintest luminescence over the ancient compositions of stone entombing us. An equivocal tide of adumbral fog ebbed and flowed around our feet, ominously marking our advance with wakes of nebulous shadow. Our wearied lungs, though grateful for the respite from choking smoke and hot fumes, nevertheless laboured in the cool, stale air. The diminutive glow of the blacklights—adequate aids to our acclimatised eyes—faintly illuminated the masonic detritus of Netheril sprawled around us, coloured ashen by the omnipresent lens of the Shadow Plane.

Against this muted backdrop, our blades whirled, fluently cutting through shadow and ectoplasm, flashing gloriously even in the dim light. Our movements were as ghostly as our incorporeal foes, our canny steps imitating the ebb and flow of the dark fog through which we danced. We swept through the room in a graceful promenade of death to awe a murderous choreographer. The opposed apparitions were fierce, powerful, and numerous. But we fought together and overcame, littering the trail with their dissipating oblivion.

My mind drifted amidst the fighting. Perhaps it was the looming shadow of my intent playing tricks with my perception, but the maze seemed markedly gloomier and more haunting that the last time we had passed this way. This was the second expedition of the Guild to the Underdark, but this journey was marred by a sinister deception. My sister and I had lied to them all about our purpose here, and now the lie weighed sickeningly upon me. But then, what were we to tell them? That we were assassins of Fate, bent on correcting a future in which they all perished? We needed them, but the truth was not our ally. It was a necessary betrayal.

Or so we told ourselves.

My mind returned from its reflective wandering as the last of our foes fell. The Thieves fanned out, efficiently securing the room with unbroken readiness. We had been at this all night and we were battle-wearied and exhausted, but it did not show. That is the mark of professionals. For a brief moment, my pride in their efficacy eclipsed the nagging guilt that they were even here. They would stand by me with courage to shame all of the professed heroes of the Coast above, as we fought our way back to the dark. And I could not even tell them why. I vanquished the guilt and doubt back to their suppressing prisons, and signalled the others to search the room.

My sister saw them first. I wish with my very being she had not. Two blades, the alien appearance of their ornate fittings betraying their ancientness, the shadows that danced seductively along the killing edges betraying their power. She was drawn to them hypnotically, her hands finding their natural repose on the aureate hilts, her azure eyes jubilant with the victory of her possession. She wielded them like she was born to. It was disturbingly beautiful.

We thought little of it at the time. We envied her find, and smirked and jested at her apparent fortune. Little did we know, for though she possessed them for now, they would ultimately come to possess her instead. They were the cursed blades of Uuharel, the bane of Stargazer, and they would eventually ensnare my sister’s fate.

That was all to come later, however. I would meet my fate first.

We meticulously checked our weapons and equipment, and resumed our advance into the dark.

If there is such thing as a grim night in the Underdark, then it was one. I never determined how the drow kept time in the omnipresent, saturating blackness, and I cared little. Somehow, though, I was sure the moon was high and shining on the surface above. There was an eerie tingling sensation across my skin as my every night prowler instinct was aroused, and a primal voice deep inside me urgently whispered that it was time to hunt. Tonight, my residual assassin’s sense-of-things-to-come had an appropriately ominous edge of foreboding to it. Appropriate, because tonight, I am murdered.

The fetid air of the tombs was colder and dryer than that in Sshamath, the clamminess of the city miasma replaced by the hanging, decrepit chill of old death. A sea of broken cobwebs—disturbed and churned by the thoroughfare of greed-driven looters flouting the laws of the Enclave—was haphazardly draped over the fractured rows of aged, crumbling sarcophagi. The ghastly ambiance was augmented by the breathless gasps and sighs of the defiled dead, wherever they lurked. It was, in the words of my killer, “as good a place as any to die.”

Though I subsequently saw the events through the eyes of another, the memory of exactly how it happened remains elusive and hazy. I recall stalking that insipid drowling for hours after I had identified her as one of House Sshamath’s mindless brats. So many opportunities my sister and I had to kill her, and we should have. We should have tortured the information out of her. But we were weak, sleep-deprived and desperate. I foolishly tried to bargain with her. I had already heard that Cazna was dead, but I needed to know.

As in the Dreams, we were betrayed. We had allowed every tactical advantage to slip from our grasp as the drow manoeuvred none-too-subtly to gain and hold the upper hand. We practically trapped ourselves. After that it was all metal and blood and ear-shattering noise. We fell, my sister first, then I next to her. My world grew dark, and I grew cold.

The aftermath of my death, I saw through her eyes. Her lithe, incorporeal form rose from my sister’s lifeless body like an avenging ghost. Perhaps that is exactly what she was. The drow cowered as she turned her ancient fury upon them. They fought, but were outmatched, and she effortlessly cut them down. They stood no chance against Uuharel, the once High Sorceress of Philock. She took to the slaughter joyously, laughing and gloating over her victims as their pathetic resistance melted beneath her onslaught.

When her fun had been had and her playful mood was spent, she merged once more with her now-dead host, a flicker of light flashing across the ancient blades strapped at my sister’s waist. My sister’s corpse jerked and convulsed, and she breathed life again.

My own path back would be more difficult.

I stood precariously upon the edge of death, a yawning chasm of achromatic nothingness cooing softly at my feet. The air—if it could even be called that—was unnervingly still. Yet the neutral cool still lent the atmosphere a tender note, offsetting the sorry wistfulness of dreary purgatory. An all-consuming fog, apparent even without any focused referent against which it could be readily contrasted, beset this stark plane of displaced consciousness. Here, absence paradoxically made its presence felt. So this is what dying feels like.

My awareness reached tentatively beyond the cerebral borders of the coma. I did not know where I was in the waking world, but I knew I was alive for now. I knew my companions—my revived sister among them—were with me. Their voices were alternately strained with sadness and alive with panic; they desperately urged me to wake up. A small part of me wanted to heed their calls, but I felt weak and lethargic, pacified by the soothing haze of this in-between state…and tempted by the sheer brink before me. I was not strong enough to wake from my deep somnolence. And, if I am to be honest with myself, I did not really want to.

The burden of guilt weighed more heavily upon me than ever. The innumerable victims of my seemingly inescapable profession, my sister’s fiancé among them. The concomitant betrayal of both my lover and the one who earnestly sought my heart. The deception of those whom I would call my family, the only one I had ever known, now consequently trapped in the Underdark. It seemed that every step I took crushed someone.

There was a time when I would have been smug, even proud for that fact. But my destructive footfalls had been landing closer by degrees until now they violently trampled everyone I loved. I yearned for release. I convinced myself that it was not a cowardly escape, but a mercy to those who stood by me.

Amidst the convoluted churning of my self-pity and self-loathing, death and consumption by the waiting Wall seemed a better fate than I deserved. I embraced it willingly.

I could feel it through the coma. My embattled body was growing weaker by the day, as was my residual will to cling to life; both slowly overtaken by the lethargy of death’s slide. By now, I had wholeheartedly accepted the inevitability that it would soon be time for me to go. Convincing my sister to accept this, however, would prove a much more difficult task. But for all the pain and suffering the link had enabled, I had never been more grateful for our ability to share dreams. It gave me a chance afforded to few. A chance to see her one last time. A chance to say goodbye.

I stood upon a sheer cliff edge—an archetypical incarnation of the brink in my mind—and let the night wind blow coolly through my unbound hair. The sounds of ocean waves crashing on the rocks below travelled up to my treacherous vantage, not so much in wild roars as in subdued, broken growls. The stars overhead were plentiful, but they shone with a diminished light, a solemn sea of waning funeral candles. Their sorrowful gaze harkened my sister’s timely arrival.

My peripheral vision caught her standing not ten feet away, looking up at me, the breeze shifting her cloak, pain deep-set on her face. I turned and looked at her with a sad smile. “You’re late.” I said, trying to assume the light tone of an established joke. This only seemed to sharpen the pain in her eyes. She approached shakily, her voice cracking as she spoke in a manner of one breaking horrible news. “Aik, this may be a shock, but…you’re in a…”

“Coma.” I cut her off calmly. “I know. Somehow…I saw it all, through the link. Where are we now? Are the others okay?” I asked, my voice subtly imbued with worry as I recalled the weight of my company’s predicament. She nodded quickly, sensing my concern. “Sano is in bad shape, but he’ll live. The others are all safe…for now anyway. We are hiding in the Gloura’s Wings while the drow are still searching the tunnels. Kage will try to convince them we’re either dead, or have already made for the surface.” She paused for a brief moment, her eyes growing a little more distant, and a faint sneer crossed her face. “The little one is useless, as usual.”

I nodded slightly, absorbing the situation, and then—noting her significant omission—looked back to her with a penetrating gaze. “Are you okay?” I asked. She hesitated a long moment before answering, choosing her words carefully. “I’m…fine, I think, but…” A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Aik, there is something…someone inside me. She killed those drow in the tunnels. I first felt her when I picked up the blades in the ruins…” She absently stroked the hilts at her waist as she continued. “…and she has been with me ever since.” As she explained, no flicker of surprise infiltrated my expression. I simply nodded in understanding, my eyes dropping to the ground. “I know…I saw her too.”

I stared mutely at the ground for a long moment, before I mustered the will to look my sister in the eye again. “Shal, I’m so sorry about all this. I do not know what is happening to you, but I know it’s my fault. It’s my fault you picked up those blades, it’s my fault we are even down here in the first place. I have tried to protect the ones I love—you most of all—but I have ultimately dealt them greater harms than those I spared them.” I paused and inhaled deeply, alarm manifesting in my sister’s eyes as she digested each word. “My body is dying, and my soul is leaving. You know this as well as I do. I’m sorry sis…” I looked at her guiltily. “…but I’m not coming back from this.”

I will never forget those sapphire eyes as they pooled with tears, even as the face behind them contorted with grief and anger. “You are coming back! You promised you would! You promised you would not let the Dreams beat you. You have to wake up…” The anger in her voice broke and gave way to an uncharacteristic whimper. “…you can’t die…I need you…” Her tears flowed freely.

I stepped toward her and raised a caring hand to her face, lightly brushing away her tears. I forced a smile behind which I could hide my own pain. “You don’t need me, Shal. You never have." I spoke as reassuringly as could, but the next words were like stones in my heart, requiring every reserve of willpower I could muster to lift them painfully to my lips: "This is goodbye.” I closed the last bit of distance, and embraced her. She hugged me back tightly, pleading quietly into my shoulder. “Please don’t go…”
We stood there for what felt like an eternity, held in each other’s arms, neither wanting to let go. The stars seemed to brighten ever so slightly, and twinkle their approval. Shalinee held on, and when she finally released me, her face was wet. I looked at her, my sad smile persisting. “I always loved you the most.”

With that, I walked slowly backwards toward the ledge, keeping my eyes on her the whole time, choking back my own tears, until the world went white once more.

Of all the hellish nightmares I endured, the dream goodbye was probably the hardest.

The certainty of descent is hitting the bottom. So here I am, at the last threshold of death.

Though utterly drained and light-headed from my somnolescent fall into darkness, my feet were firm on the aged worn stone upon which I stood. Concealed beneath a paradoxically lazy maelstrom of deathly white fog, the size and unevenness of the cobbles betrayed the epic passage of time, meaning this locale ironically shared the apt namesake of my life as it was: a ruin. If this final curtain was a design of Myrkul, then his wit was not without its wicked daggers. Before me, a pair of crooked stone pillars jutted out from the mist, a person’s width apart, their moss-dressed apexes curving and leaning toward one another in the manner of a gate. Of course the last threshold had to be a doorway. The “sky” above was as dark as I have ever seen.

A harrowing path had led me here. I had confronted everyone I loved, and the wrongs I had done them. Each of them had possessed two faces; one vengeful, and one forgiving. Rysdan, Kage, Sano, Diamond, Delphinn, Shalinee. Each simultaneously urged me on and held me back. As I stood in the doorway, their voices wracked my head, the noise convoluting into a painful cacophony that bore into my already wearied mind. Through the confusing tumult, the image of Kage materialised with some clarity in my mind. His eyes were dark, and his voice harsh.

You are so weak…look at you wilt beneath your own guilt…we carry you around like some gods-damned princess and all you can do is cry…How many have you killed, Silver? How many have you killed, that you cared about? Soon you can add us to the list…You knew how I felt about you…and you used me…you used all of us…tricked us into coming down here…Now we will all die and you don’t even have the decency to tell us why…

He was right. It was not likely they would make it back to the surface alive. I had doomed them for reasons they did not even understand. Hells, I didn’t even understand. I came down here chasing dreams and premonitions, second-guessing my own motives at every turn. What a waste.

Even as my mind went down this dark path, Kage's expression softened.

You didn’t trick me, Silver…I heard you and Star in the cave…I know why we came down here and I understand why you couldn’t tell us…I came because I care about you…you taught me what I could be, gave me a family…You have always shown me respect…no one had ever done that before you…Don’t throw yourself away…

I recall taking comfort in Kage’s words of encouragement, but then feeling guilty even for that indulgence. Why did the forgiving face seem so much more naive than the vengeful one? Did he not see that everything I had done for him had served my own purpose? Perhaps I had done it more for him, than for me, but even if that was the case it hardly seemed to matter now...

Sano’s harsh voice cut the silence left by that thought.

I am tired of you…always holding me back…never giving me the free reign I deserve…You cannot fathom a world in which someone is better than you…You let Diamond walk all over you and don’t even have the courage to claim what you have earned…and for that you are pathetic…Do us all a favour…and die.

He was right too. Though I saw something of myself in Sano I did not consider him my equal, nor anything like it. Perhaps I never could. And my inaction regarding Diamond was as much a disservice to him as to anyone; he might well have had my place, had I hers. All because I did not have the courage to take what she ought to have given me. Some Thief I am. For all I had done—and not done—it seemed like my death was owed.

Silver…Do you remember the lake near Nashkel? Why were you so disappointed in me? It is because we are so alike…you and I…because you had hoped I would not fall into the same trap as you…We cannot forsake the ones we love…What have you always told me? “You have work to do”…I walk with my eyes open…because of you…You have to live…

There was that forgiveness, and his words resonated. But we were never as alike as he so liked to think. Still, perhaps if I lived I could atone for much, not least by getting them all out of the mess I had created. That seemed farfetched even as an idly dreamed thought.

Oh lookie…the good little worker…or should I say boot-licker?

That was Diamond, of course.

So much work…so little recognition…and now here we all are…What you do now will decide the fate of many far and wide…you know the right path…don’t you dear? Off the cliff…If only you could have died sooner…then none of this would have happened…

If only. I would certainly have made that trade, were such a thing possible. Perhaps it might yet have been, but there was no guarantee. My death for the lives of my friends. Is that real altruism, or just guilt talking? Is there even a difference? I didn’t even care anymore.

Silver…If you could do it all again…you would…it is your thing…it comes naturally to you…That’s why I love having you around…you always make things better…You just need to learn to ask for help sometimes…instead of taking everything on yourself…We still need to break in the Hall with that pillow-fight, remember? I’ll be waiting for you…

Nothing says “please live” like the promise of a pillow-fight. Sarcasm wet the ink in that last sentence, but I admit the comfort and warmth of so mundane a promise amidst such a dark predicament. But what is such comfort from an excuse for a leader that would sink us all eventually? Perhaps more than from the hypocrite who may well have sunk us all already.

Through the mist, a tattooed face emerged, a face dear to me. And it spoke venom.

How could you do this to me…after all I have done…all I have risked for you? You are completely selfish…you care only for your own feelings…You used me like you use everyone…threw my love for you in my face…You are weak and pathetic…You are a selfish bitch, Aikura…I hope you die…

Ouch. His words had cut deeper than any other, and with good reason. So much guilt lay upon that one night spent with him. Only one night, but a myriad of betrayals therein. The Inamorato survives unfulfilled. That was the fate the Dreams had written for him. At least he would survive.

Aikura…Silver…Don’t listen to it…you know it’s not true…if not in your head, then in your heart…I told you what I wanted and you told me what you could offer…no promises were made…It would be a lie to say that I am happy…but equally untrue to say you wronged me…You know I didn’t pursue you with pure intentions…I told you that…But you changed me…you gave me my second friend…and my first love…

Gods I loved that voice. It was about the only thing that had enabled me to sleep at all in these past months of night terrors. Delphinn’s voice of vengeance had been powerful, but so too was its forgiving incarnate, and I felt warmth in my fingertips even in the cold and dark of looming death.

There had been one more voice, however, and it was the one dearest to me. Her words echoed freshly in my mind.

You have hurt enough people with your selfish ways, Aik…allow me to help you end it…You pretend to be my “big sister” but it was always me carrying you…even now while you are in a coma I have to look after you…You killed my love…you killed Dustin…you made sure you had me all to yourself…You are a murderer…a selfish, evil murderer…Your skies are starless…

I told myself that everything I had done was for her. Yet it seemed that every time I tried to help her, I only did more harm. I had killed Dustin to save her, but the moment the wedding ring fell from his dying grasp I was filled with doubt. I had glimpsed her name engraved along the band, just before it was engulfed by the pooling blood. She told me she could not live without me, but I had caused her so much pain. And I had already said goodbye...

You have always been there for me, sister…I understand the things you have done…and I forgive you…We are bonded together…one soul…the one I love the most…You have saved my life so many times…now let me save you…Whatever happens now…you will always have at least one Star…

The forgiving voice forgave. That is all I ever wanted, all I ever needed from her. I forgive you... Live or die, those three sweet words would set my soul free.

I stepped through the doorway. The moss-dressed pillars passed me by like ghostly totems afloat on a hidden lake. The mist of death parted and revealed a small clearing amidst the ruins. Seemingly triggered by my first footfall within, arcing beams of bright blue light sprang up and encircled the clearing, trapping me. The ruins and the world beyond became distorted by the field of blue-white light that separated it, but my vision and head suddenly felt clear and alert. Standing in the middle of the clearing, looking around with terror-filled eyes, was a small girl. She was crying.
“I…I want…want my mummy.” She spluttered, tears wetting her cheeks. She was young; six, maybe seven years old. She wore a simple, baggy black outfit characteristic of some monk orders, tied with a silk sash. Her hair was pitch black, completely secured in a ponytail but for a couple of small bangs stubbornly crossing her forehead. That hair, and one or two other features, were very familiar. She glanced up, noticing me, and her tears abated leaving dry but still uncertain eyes, wide but with a similar light of recognition. “Mummy!” She exclaimed.

Oh crap.

She ran forward, wrapping her arms around my leg and hugging tightly. I stood frozen in place, my heart racing. When her wet cheek met the lacquered leather panels of my armour, she hesitated, looking up at me again with renewed uncertainty. “Huh? You’re not my mummy…”

Thank the gods.

The girl who was not my future daughter took a child-sized step back and seemed to give me a second appraising look. “Have you come to take me away from this place?” She asked. I tentatively placed what I hoped was a reassuring hand on the back of her head. “Yes…I have.” I said. She seemed to take comfort in my touch, but fear swiftly crept back into her voice. “You won’t let them hurt me will you? They came…they took mummy and daddy…I saw them! Then they took me…”

A strange tingle went down my spine at the mention of “them”, and for a brief moment I felt exactly as the girl did: small and afraid. And cold, the temperature at this place beyond the doorway having quite suddenly dropped. The girl now hugged herself and shivered severely. “I want to go home…it’s so c-cold here…” She said through chattering teeth. I stepped toward her and knelt down, embracing her as warmly as it could, at the same time as everything clicked into place in my mind. “I know it is.” I said. “I remember…”

As I held her, I looked around once more at the clearing and beyond the barrier. The surrounding ruins now seemed much less old and much more familiar. As did the cobbles beneath us, darker patches now shading many of them; the blood marks of my departure from the Order.

After I had been silent for a long moment, the six-year-old Aikura looked up at me again. “Will everything be okay?” She asked earnestly. My mind raced at such a tragically innocent yet profound question. No, you will be a slave most of your life, only eventually freeing yourself in an act of violence that will haunt your dreams forever. Then you will go on to systematically destroy the people you love to the point that the guilt drives you insane, until now you are in a coma on your deathbed, being taunted by visions of your past.

No, that is not a fair or even honest answer. Darkness, guilt and self-pity have consumed and poisoned my thoughts for far too long. Somewhere in my mind stirred a calm voice, fashioning a different response altogether. Yes, you will grow up a slave but become a free woman. You will deny all those in your way, every obstacle in your path to do so. You will learn to get along, learn to love, and though sometimes it will be hard, and sometimes it will hurt badly, it will always be worth it. You will have friends, a home, a family, a sister who loves and completes you. You will have to take lives, but so too will you save them and give others meaning. And atop your empire you will look up at the stars with wonder and joy.

“It will.” I said, finding my voice again. “Not right away though. It will take time, and you will have to be strong. But it will be okay in the end…I promise.” At that, the girl smiled up at me and hugged me tightly.

There was a sudden flash of blue light and the girl disappeared, familiar boots taking her place and standing before me. I rose slowly to face the new figure who seemed my mirror image. She was a few years younger than me, still a teenager. Her armour was identical to mine, but new, and freshly blood-soaked. Everything else, that hair, that face, those eyes, were more or less the same.

“Okay?” She repeated in my voice. “Okay?! You call this okay?” She said somewhat shrilly, gesturing around with wild hands. As she did so, the dark bloodstains on the stonework oozed fresh crimson pools, and a sea of corpses materialised from nowhere in a spiral of death, lying face-down where they fell.
I gazed around dispassionately, unfazed at the scene of carnage that just wouldn’t seem to leave me alone. “This is only the first moment, the first of many.” I said assuredly. At this externalisation of my fears, I was feeling calmer and more resolved by the minute.

“It is not okay! I killed them all…all of them…all of them!” The teenage-me exclaimed. “I have nobody…nobody…I am all alone…” Tears streaked down her young cheeks as her voice trailed off. I looked around again and spoke firmly. “Assassins and monsters.” I said. “They deserved it.”

She looked at me with the same wide, tearful eyes that the child had done. “I…am a monster.” She said. I looked deeper into those eyes and I saw strength and unbreakable spirit, dormant but burning with immanency. “That is only what they made you to be. You become more.” I said, a myriad of images flashing through my head; a story flip-book of a slave who discovered free will and, in a few short years, became the most powerful woman in Baldur’s Gate. “Much more.”

Teenage Aikura seemed momentarily captured by my confidence, but she then looked dismally down at her blood-soaked self. “There is too much blood…too much…” She said, turning her hands palm-up, the gore showing even against her black leather gloves. “It…won’t come off…it won’t ever come off…” She said, her voice trailing off once more. I stepped toward her, methodically drawing my water flask and emptying it over her presented hands. “Some things may never come off entirely…” I said as the water washed over her gloves, taking much of the blood off with it. “But all stains fade in time.”

She looked at me as though actually seeing me for the first time. “You…what are you?” She asked, fascination underwriting her tone. At the end of all things, I actually managed a small smile. “I am just a woman. One who is seeing her actions in a new light.” I replied, the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. My mirror image shook her head slightly. “No…” She said. “You...are the light.” She reached up and touched my face, her fingers brushing down my cheek. “My hope.”

I closed my eyes at her touch, continuing to smile. “I don’t know about that…” I said, filling with new life. “But I know you will meet her, one day.”

There was another sudden flash of blue and we seemed to merge into a ball of light. Burning brightness filled my vision, blinding me as I felt the ground fall away and I began to rise up into the sky. Higher I flew and brighter I burned, and I finally understood.

...The Star shines on and saves all that remains...

I heard familiar voices echo in space: “Look...she’s stirring...” The light gradually eased and peeled back, an incredible dizziness invading my head. Shadowy figures materialised through the brightness, moving and gathering around me, looking down. I blinked a couple of times and the shadows costively grew faces. Despite the debilitating daze, I could hardly be happier as I awoke from the coma to find the ones I loved gathered around me. “Vendui, drivel.” I said through a tired snicker. The faces grinned brightly.

Somehow I knew it was a new world I now blinked into focus.

Not just alive; reborn.

When I awoke from the coma, there was much muted celebration and joy, and no shortage of the sarcastic remarks and jabs that pass for expressions of love in a Thieves’ Guild. But there was no denying that the bond with my sisters and brothers of shadow was deeper for this trial. Even with four of our members still injured—two of them cursed—and the drow city hunting us, we escaped Sshamath and the Underdark leaving no one behind. We were soon reunited with our brethren on the surface, and rarely again spoke of “the worst vacation ever”.

It began with a vision. Not mine, hers. A vision of a future in which I went to war with the elves, was betrayed by the drow, and became the Duchess of Shadow by an act of treachery. The worst parts of that vision invaded my mind through the dream-link I share with my sister, kept me from sleep, pushed me to the edge and beyond, until I died. The vision did not seed this darkness in me; it had been there all along, tempered and suppressed. It was only by reconciling with my past and myself that I was able to beat the Dreams and return, reborn.

I may never know how or why any of this happened, or exactly how much was imagined and how much was truly real; by the end I could scarcely recognise the waking world from the dreaming one. However I do know that much of that vision has since come true, if not exactly how I saw it. Some aspects of the prophecy were self-fulfilling, others coincidental or retrospective. But just a few were sufficiently neat to quietly chip away at my scepticism.

In any case, the Dreams were a definitive chapter of my life as a free woman. I was reborn, renewed, whole, and I would need every ounce of that renewal for trials yet to come. There were more dark times ahead, but never again would I fall so far.

I am still not the master of my dreams, but neither do they rule me. I am free in the night once more.

By poetic right alone, the Dreams should have ended with my death and rebirth in the Underdark, and so that is how I have written it. However, there was one more vision, one final piece of the puzzle. In many ways, it was the greatest revelation of all, but I have since locked it away in my heart and dare not set the details in ink. To omit it entirely though would be a sorrowful self-deception, so I will pay it this small homage.

I was reborn and had changed the future. But uncertainty still nagged at me, and I had to be sure that doom had been averted. So we induced one final vision, one final bid to be free of the fate the prophecy had written for us. We awoke in the entrance corridor of the now-familiar Guildhall—yet to be built in our own time—to the distinctive clashing and ringing of metal, echoing down the stairs. We rushed up just as the noise ceased and found only a corpse-filled room, devoid of life, fresh blood rapidly pooling across the wooden floorboards. A search of the place yielded nothing but empty shadows. Inspecting the bodies, however, revealed the prowess of the slaughter. The handiwork was eerily familiar, each victim bearing a single cut to a vital area, with slashed throats being the most prevalent killing wound.
As I looked around at the carnage, I felt the high of my rebirth plummet to a new low. I had stopped the war with the elves, precluded any deal with the drow, and made sure Cazna was dead. I had done everything I was supposed to do. But none of it made any difference; no matter what I did, everyone still died in the end. I collapsed to the floor in defeat. And it was in that moment that I saw the last part of the vision, the one piece that had been missing all this time.

We kissed. Passionately. Time froze even while my heart raced. It was a kiss of desperation, sorrow and heartbreak, as much as it was of reassurance, love and desire. Pale blue light flooded the Hall, blood seeped into the cracks between the floorboards and vanished, bodies rose up and breathed life again. Such a simple, mundane thing, but such a potent symbol. It was emblematic of the unerring endurance of our bond. That was the lesson here: The future was fluid and hopelessly uncertain, but our love was immutable, forever.

...The Kiss awakens that which might have been...

That was the real ending to my nightmare. That night, we went to sleep and dreamed again. But this time, there was no blood or killing, no drow, no vengeful avatars of Shar.

There was only a clear green meadow, under a star-filled night sky.

A rubicund coral glow bloomed and spread across the sky as the evening sun dipped and waned, its last gasps of light casting long shadows across the beach. Despite this, adequate cover was sparse, so I chose my hiding place against the shallow cliffs where I would be concealed by the partial shading of outcrops and light foliage. The air was relatively still and quiet at this late hour, the soft whistle of the sea breeze blending seamlessly with the gentle lapping of the waves. Faintly silhouetted against the white sand, a dark, ghostly apparition shimmered and distorted the air around it, a pair of dimly glowing red eyes betraying a vaguely human form. I watched my bait, and waited.

As twilight cautiously approached, so too did my query. She walked with tentative steps along the sand from the southern end of the beach, her dress torn, tattered and bloodied. Her eyes were wide with fear, her expression imbued with bewilderment. She paused a dozen paces from the shadow and spoke to it, her voice cracking noticeably. “I need to see Aik.”

The shadow stared at her with its smouldering eyes, and replied in a husky, hollow voice. “No one sees the Mistress.” At that, Shalinee slumped her shoulders and stared at the ground. My heart burned in my chest as I watched, and I gritted my teeth at the masquerade. I stepped out of the shadows, a soft metallic whistle pitching slightly above the wind as I slowly drew out my blades. “What do you want?” I said sharply. My shadow stood mutely by my side.

Hope flashed across my sister’s face as she saw me, and she began apologising frantically, desperation underwriting her tone. “Aik…I’m so sorry…I tried to tell you to stay away! I can’t control her!” She stammered. Her voice tugged at me but I refused to be moved, standing my ground and keeping my katana ready. “You were going to kill me.” I said simply. She shook her head urgently. “That wasn’t me Aik, you have to believe me…I would never hurt you!”

It hurt to draw weapons on her. By the gods did it hurt. But I knew it was not really her I was facing. Ever since she first picked them up in the Netherese ruins, the blades’ influence had been steadily growing, taking control. Sometimes, the passionate animus manifested as simply as a sudden slip into draconic speech, or an uncharacteristic look as though there was someone else behind her eyes. At other times, it emerged in violent episodes. Today was one of those days.

“You can cut the act, Uuharel. It’s pathetic, like you.” I said through a sneer. The sincerity on Shalinee’s face immediately broke and it twisted into an evil smirk. Her voice turned cold and raspy, and her words seeped venom. “She will be mine soon, you know. And when she is, you will be the first one I kill.” She spat. I tensed as she drew out a single short-blade, shadows ebbing and flowing upon its edge. But her attack never came; she instead sat calmly in the sand and began slowly cutting long, bloody lines across her hand. She smiled and intermittently licked the blade with a sinister giggle. “It has been so long since I have had a body of flesh to inhabit.” She said.

I winced as I watched her mutilate herself, but there was nothing I could do to stop it without further harming her. Instead, I sheathed my blades, mustered my will and forced a confident smirk. “You will never take her, bitch.” I said. “You are the confused, decrepit shadow of a wretched, anile hag. You are nothing but dust and bones unceremoniously stashed away in some decayed hole, deservedly forgotten like the rest of your irrelevant civilisation. You are beneath contempt, and beneath notice.” I turned my back on her.

If I had learned anything of Uuharel thus far, it was that she was easily provoked. Though I avoided looking back at her, I could feel her eyes—alight with irrepressible rage—boring into the back of my head. She ceased her self-mutilation and rose to her feet, taking several staggered steps toward me, blade raised. I turned as she approached, ready to defend myself, only to see her stop in her tracks. Her armed hand was shaking, and her other hand clasped her head in pain. She looked sharply up at me, raw fury burning in her eyes. “She won’t let me hurt you…” She said with a venomous sneer. “…But I wonder if she will be so strong-willed toward your friends? First, I am going to gut your pathetic Guild, and then I am coming for you.” With that, she turned and sprinted.

Damn.

I immediately gave chase, my feet flying across the sand, but she disappeared as soon as she hit the embracing shadows of the treeline. I slowed and focused my vision on the ground, concentrating on the disturbed detritus to try and keep her trail. Gods only knew what I was going to do if I caught her.

Still and forgotten, the mute shadow stood alone upon the shore, the hushed waves lapping gently at its feet.

Even the faint candlelight seemed blindingly bright as I forced my eyes open, struggling against the gravid weights of my eyelids. I immediately gagged and coughed, spraying dark blood across the worn carpet beneath me. As my mind raced to absorb and piece together my situation, the first thing that was abundantly clear was that I was not waking from sleep; I was dipping in and out of consciousness. Feeling flooded back to me, I felt a painful throb in my head and tasted wet blood in my mouth. My entire right side suddenly sprang alive, numbness replaced by the feeling of thousands of tiny, skin-piercing needles. Above and below my breast and down my ribs, this feeling concentrated into several dull, isolated aches.

I could not move my legs, so I continued to claw and pull myself along the carpet toward the bed. The room was small and littered with faded paintings, mouldy rugs, and other items whose value had long been erased by the passage of time. This hideout had been used by the Thieves even before Toybox’s time, and absolutely anything of marginal value had long since been snapped up and carried off, leaving only the waning detritus of the Baldurian underworld. Despite the apparent neglect, the lit candles testified to the use this place still saw as a waypoint and meeting place for our kind. I had been extremely fortunate that it was sufficiently close to crawl to. It was safe enough, and maximised my chances of being found by one of my own.

My memory of the attack was hazy, and thinking about it exacerbated the throbbing in my skull. I recalled that Shalinee had been easy enough to follow; she was clumsy and reckless when Uuharel was in control. I found her standing with blades dripping over a fresh victim, near the camp just south of Baldur’s Gate that was frequented by bandits and smugglers. The scene had barely registered before she was on me, those cursed blades making laughable work of my armour. It had taken at least a day to crawl this far.

I made it to the edge of the bed, but my strength failed me as I tried to climb up and I collapsed in a heap next to it, pulling the dusty sheets down on top of me. Wet red stains immediately appeared and grew through the white threads. I managed to turn over enough to look down and survey some of the damage. Each of the dull aches corresponded to a wide open tear in my armour, and a vicious, weeping wound beneath. Most disturbingly, each cut festered with the same shadowy energy that enveloped Uuharel’s blades.

At the sight, my head spun and my eyelids doubled in weight once more. Though the candles and oil lamps burned steadily as they always did, the room darkened. I clasped at blood-soaked sheets as tightly as I did to consciousness, but it was rapidly slipping from my grasp. I could not hold on. I began to feel lighter than air, and voices—familiar but distant—echoed in my head. They seemed to grow closer while simultaneously drifting away, as blackness overtook my vision and I faded back into unconsciousness.

When I next awoke, my eyelids felt like catapult wheels. Candlelight once more flooded my vision, but the concentrated arrangement and meditative ambiance immediately betrayed my new location as a temple. The room was a fuzzy blur of these little lights, though I could make out two figures talking nearby, and a third kneeling over me. An unfamiliar voice droned on amidst the pair. “I have never seen scars like these, they do not respond to any form of healing magic. She will likely carry them the rest of her life, but she will live to fight another day.” While the words groggily sunk in, caring fingers brushed through my hair.
I tilted my head and strained to focus weary eyes. I saw Delphinn’s face, warm and loving, his expression filled with concern. “You came for me.” I whispered weakly. He forced a grin of bravado. “You have Kage to thank for that; He is quite the tracker as it turns out. He’s going to quit the Guild and try his hand at being a Ranger instead.” He said. Kage turned away from the priest and cast a content, wordless smirk in my direction. His eyes, however, said much more.

A sudden panic rushed through me as my memory of the attack stirred. “Shalinee…” I said. I made to try and move but Del reacted fast and pressed a firm hand against my uninjured shoulder, effortlessly holding me in place in my weakened state. “You need to rest. But we will find her, and we will help her.” He said. “I promise.”

Both defeated and reassured, I acquiesced and closed my eyes.

I pressed myself flush against the door at the sound of approaching footsteps. I stilled my breathing to silence and calmed my heart, focusing completely on the muted footfalls in the corridor beyond. The step was skilfully light, but its unsuspecting owner was making only a half-hearted effort to pass unheard. I waited, poised and ear pressed to the door, for the slightest click of a turning handle. It came, and I sprang.

I yanked the door inward, taking only a half-step back to avoid its swinging arc. The figure outside immediately lost his balance and lurched forward as the door opened away from him. At the same time, my free hand roughly grabbed the loose folds of his tunic and pulled him even further off balance. His eyes widened in surprise at the ambush, but there was little he could do as I slammed the door closed behind us and threw him up against the adjacent wall. I pinned him there, pressing myself against him and kissing him passionately. His surprise was suddenly a memory, his arms wrapping around me as he returned the kiss with matching passion.

I broke the kiss, panting slightly but smiling irrepressibly. “I thought I’d skip the fight.” I said. A characteristically devilish grin spread across his face. “A typically brilliant plan.” He replied. Strong arms still wrapped around me, he pushed off the wall and we both tumbled back onto the bed, his kiss resuming.

This room of the Friendly Arm Inn had been transformed into my office—and my prison—for several weeks now. It was the only way I could keep an eye on Shalinee while we tried to break her curse. But it meant I could not leave. Delphinn’s visits were my only distraction. Some part of me was sure now that I loved him, but I was filled with the same nagging doubt that it could never work. And once Shalinee was cured…well, then everything would change.

He must have sensed my hesitation because he broke the kiss and looked empathetically into my eyes. “You’ve told me what you can give, and where I stand.” He said, calmly and warmly. I sighed softly and shook my head. “And you’ve said you can live with that, but your heart doesn’t believe you.” I replied. He futily tried to brush the bangs from my forehead with his fingers. “Let me worry about my heart.” He said. “You worry about Star, or better yet, for tonight you worry about nothing.”

“For tonight…” I repeated, more to myself than to him, a memory surfacing together with its resounding accompaniment of emotions. I looked back into his eyes. “I know you think that when we save Star, things will change. You are right, but they may not change in the way you think, and you may not like it. I need you now, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you being here. But when this is over…I may not need you anymore. That is what will happen.” I let my honesty sink in. He actually smiled, with only the slightest hint that it was at least partially forced. “Then we will worry about it then.” He said. “Perhaps we will even worry about it tomorrow. But not tonight.” I blinked at him disbelievingly and shook my head again. “Even your heart walks knowingly into a trap with characteristic bravado.” I said. He laughed. “It’s what I do.”

With that, he kissed me again and I felt suddenly lighter. With his touch, his kiss, the sound of his voice, this room seemed much less a prison and much more an escape. For too long—even before the Dreams—I had been so concerned with the consequence of every action. Could I not allow myself this one thing that I wanted? Even deserved? I broke the kiss and looked at him seriously. “Alright, then I need to lay down some ground rules.” I said. He grinned devilishly. “Oh? This should be good…”

“First, obviously, we need to keep this discreet both within the Guild and without.” I said. “Understood.” He replied, still unable to repress his grin. “Second, no breaking hierarchy. We keep business as separate as possible, and if you undermine me in front of the others, I will kill you.” My eyes said I meant it, if my tone did not. His expression suddenly mirrored my seriousness. “You know you don’t need to worry about that. I always keep business separate.” He replied. “Is there a third?”

I nodded. “Mm. No harems filled with beautiful women who aren’t me.” I said. His grin returned, barely fighting off a full laugh. I continued, keeping my composure and not vindicating his cracking expression. “And fourth…” I began. He could hardly keep it together. “Oh I can’t wait for four…” He said, his tone once more light as a feather. I let out a long sigh, the punchline approaching. “You will allow me my guilt, regret, hesitation, second thoughts and other forms of less-than-full commitment. You cannot claim you didn’t know I was anything less than a mess when you started all this.” I said. His grin did not disappear, but instead eased to a loving smile. He placed a caring hand on the side of my face. “I take you as you are. I never intended anything else.”

I looked for a long moment back into his eyes, feeling lighter by the minute with the unfamiliar joy of surrender. “Then I’m yours with whatever I have left to give.” I said. His expression was not the triumph I expected, but one deeply moved and imbued with simple happiness. “Then perhaps I have become the richest man in the Gate.” He said. A broad smirk spread irrepressibly across my face at that. “You’re so lame.” I replied, rolling on top of him and pulling the sheets with me.

//this is so awesome//

//looking at the screenshots and the few times I saw Darkshard's DM avatar, the similarity strikes me.

Darkness encircled us, creeping closer on all sides, closing the distance by furtive, ominous inches. I had spent my whole life as an agent of the night, but I had hitherto never experienced a shade of black like that which now undulated nearer; as though many layers of the very blackest pigment were layered upon one another, compacted by the weight of eons. Given the apparent ancientness of this place, that imagery made perfect sense to me. It was the realm within the blades, an entombed pocket of Netheril’s past. Planar fortress of the ghost sorceress Uuharel.

She had tormented us for months, broken us apart and driven my sister to insanity. Now we were a guild with a plan, and we were here for the final stroke, but uneasiness still gripped me and divided my attention. It had been a hard road and a desperate deal to get this far; working with the drow was a compromise I swore I would never repeat, but we had been left with no option. Now that we were here, I remained hopelessly and anxiously distracted, unable to focus this close to the end. That Star and Gold were constantly at each other’s throats did not help matters, nor did Kage’s discreet glances and stolen looks. It filled me with fresh anger, the way they all acted like the world hadn’t ended. As though we were not already dead.

The darkness continued to close and Uuharel’s shrieking laugh pierced the air. She and Star were exchanging threats and taunts; foreplay to our final duel. Their words were lost to my ears like sound travelling through water, dampened by the hate building inside me. The encroaching black cloud grew eyes and ghostly shapes began to materialise; Uuharel’s wraith army. She had us trapped completely. Coasting ever nearer, her minions reached out with shadowy black claws; the seductive grasp of death beckoning, offering a way out.
We closed ranks, all of us standing back-to-back with weapons drawn, braced for the onslaught. Stargazer, my sister, to my right; Gold, my lover, to my left; Kage, my friend and prodige, at my back. As I felt their shoulders touch against mine, I was overcome by a sudden stillness. I wonder if they felt what I felt. It was not just the absence of fear, but an eagerness for the fight, for imminent reckoning. We were giddy intruders, alien apparitions invading the very home our enemy had thought secure and impenetrable. Here, in this place, we were the ghosts, and they the haunted. We would make them afraid of the dark.

Without prompt and in knowing unison, we struck. Our blades cut splaying swathes through the penumbral forms that engulfed us, leaving ethereal blue trails through the air. The obscuring cloud suddenly broke, revealing the aged stone interior of the temple hub. Somewhere above, I was sure Uuharel watched, dismay permeating her being as she witnessed the tide turning below. Bitch, we’ll get to you soon enough.

I felt beyond still now as my anger was channelled through a narrow focus of rekindled confidence into a calm, terrifying, wonderful rage. Pressing the attack, I leapt over the pew before me into the midst of retreating wraiths. Twisting as I landed, my blades parried desperately slashing claws before turning back into the cut with practiced precision, taking with them lean slices of ecto-flesh and spattering the stone with umbral gore. Twist, duck, parry, cut; they fell before me in neat circles, a whirlwind of euphoric vengeance. I’ll cut my way right to you.

Before Uuharel could even join the fray, the fray was upon her. Star led the charge, bearing down on her former puppeteer with beautiful ferocity. And I was right there at her side, the rain of silver sparks from my sword dancing with her shadowy ones. Uuharel yielded ground to our advance, stopping suddenly as another steel blade erupted from her chest. Kage, who had pushed his way through and outflanked her, withdrew his sword with a grim scowl and let her bloodied body collapse at his feet. The ruin of Uuharel quivered and began to disintegrate. “I…don’t want to play anymore...” She murmured, her visage fading into ghostly dust. We stood around our conquered foe, drained and panting, scarcely daring to believe in the silence of our former tormentor now cast into shadow eternal.

It was indeed over, and the happy aftermath of our overcoming would be sublime. But I would never truly get my sister back. I only hope she one day finds the peace she so deserves.