Roderick,

The sound of women singing rouses you from what feels like a deep slumber. Their voices are sweet and intensely beautiful – and even though the language is one you do not understand, they invoke deep emotions of pain and sadness.

As your mind tries feebly to understand the words (or at least the emotions), you realize you are lying on your back in what you sense to be some kind of natural cavern. The ground is hard, but smooth, and high above you a field of fuzzy stars light what should be the ceiling. Though the singing echoes as if you are indoors, the visual above you makes it seem as if you had made camp in an open field.

You have no idea how you got here.

Slowly, your mind begins to fill in the gaps. The stars above you are not so much “fuzzy” as they are long – as if they have been stretched into strings by the gods.

Then you remember the pyramid and the insane celestial. You remember the sounds of his spell and the way the resonance of his magic words filled your ears, your head, then your entire body.

You turn your head to the right. To the left. There should be the facets of the soul gem. You should still see the battle field beyond the indistinct walls of the magic gem. Had it failed? Are you truly dead? And if so, is your life finally over?

As these thoughts worm their way into your mind, the singing abruptly stops.

You pull yourself to a sitting position and see three women looking at you. The first is young and she is pulling a long thread from what looks like a skein of glowing yarn. She hands the thread to the second woman – who is perhaps close to your age – who uses a pair of long needles to weave it into a large, but diaphanous tapestry that floats next to her. The third woman is old, wrinkled, and hunched over the tapestry with a small pair of scissors. She is carefully and expertly snipping threads as they wriggle from the second woman's needles.

Visual Aid

“The Rivers expected more death from your trials. We did not see the need to correct their misconceptions.”

The three speak in a strange unison. One starts the sentence, which is continued by the second, and finished by the third. There is no gap in their speech and, while the whole is disconcerting, if you closed your eyes, you'd be hard pressed to tell that more than one person was speaking.

“As you are more resilient than they expected, it should be no surprise that you have passed your trials.”

Your memory is clear now. It certainly doesn't feel like you passed any trials.

The True Seeing spell you cast earlier appears to still be active and as you look around, the significance of the women and their tapestry becomes clearer. The three women must be what the Lowlanders call “The Fates”. They are (in order by age) Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos and their role is to weave the threads of life. Clotho spins the thread, Lachesis weaves it, and Atropos cuts it. Each thread represents a single life and the way the threads meander through the larger tapestry determines the fate of that life – who they interact with and when they die.

The tapestry floats in pieces around the three women – but then stretches above them and arches over you in a never-ending weave. The threads glow with different colors and intensities. Those nearest to you on the ground can be seen as part of the whole – while those father up fade into darkness, leaving only the brightest visible as point sources of light.

As you scan the tapestry nearest you, you spot a single thread. At first, you see it as a light green thread – but then your sight shows you more. It is Thomas, a blacksmith who lives in a small village near the city of Restenford on Lendore Island. Your eyes scan the length of the thread and his life unfolds before you. A light yellow thread intersects his and the two begin a tight, spiraling dance around each other. A third thread splits off from the two. Then a fourth. And a fifth. Then, an unaffiliated thread crosses harshly and Thomas ends. The yellow thread stretches a short distance farther before fading into darkness.

“Imhotep has granted the sight to you, Roderick. But be wary of where you look. The future is the most dangerous knowledge of all.”

Their voices draw you away from the tapestry and you notice to your left a stone pedestal with a large book. Its pages appear to be made of bronze and its covers and binding of iron. Above the open page, a marble stylus hovers magically, etching words at a furious pace. When it reaches the end of the page, it floats to the side and the metal page flips to the next. The stylus returns to the top of the new page and begins again.

You take a moment to stand before asking, “Where am I?”. But as soon as you ask the question, you realize the answer is not relevant. You struggle for a better question, you mind still somewhat overwhelmed by the inrush of data from the tapestry.

The women smile, but do not answer your question – as if they already know you don't care about the answer.

Then, in a flash, the questions flow. “Why am I here? Who controls these 'trials'? How do we get home?”

As you speak, you feel a slight embarrassment for asking so much at once, but the women begin their answers almost before you finish the last question.

“You are here because your soul left your body while within one of our true recreations – what your guide, Kir Ganin, calls your 'Trials'.

“We were tasked with building these trials. Hades would only allow safe passage from his realm if the journey was difficult. The Rivers wanted you to the surface in safety, so a compromise was needed. In the end, it was agreed that we who weave the threads of life would control the difficulty of your trials, while The Rivers were allowed to watch from within – though they could not assist you. Eurynome chose this task – which was difficult for her since she was very close to her sister, Leuce, and still hates Hades for what he did to her.

“Because the recreations existed in Hades' realm, we were limited in what we could use. The buildings, the land, and other non-sentients could be used as needed for these things straddle the lands of the living and the dead. However, only sentients who had already died could live again within the setting. To set the level of the challenge, in some cases we brought in opponents that had not existed in the original setting.

“When you reach the surface, you will be out of Hades' realm and your magic will allow a return to your world.”

The answers seem complete, but soon the next round of questions begins to fill your mind. You are determined not to blurt them out all at once again, so you hesitate – trying to decide which is the most important.

“Who are the Rivers? Why do they protect us?” you ask.

“The Rivers are the daughters of the Ocean. There are thousands of them and each inhabits and draws its power from one of the rivers on the twenty worlds. It is not our place to reveal the answer to the rest of your question.”

The questions jumble through your mind. For some reason, you sense that you have limited time and will be unable to ask them all.

“Who was Leuce and what did Hades do to her?” The question interests you, but seems less important than others that bounce through your mind. Why it came to the surface makes you doubt that you are even in control of this conversation.

”Leuce was one of the Rivers. Hades coveted her beauty and wanted her for his bride – but, like most goddesses, she refused him. This angered him, so he took her by force. To keep her from leaving him, he turned her into a white Poplar, a tree that stands to this day on the edge of the Elysian Fields, marking the end of Hades realm.

“But this is all in the past – and the past cannot be undone. Only the future remains open.”

The invisible sense of urgency rises. You glance around, trying to clear your mind and conceal the rising tension. The tapestry seems to beckon. The true sight remains and a thread stands out.

Like the undeniable attraction of a horror, your eyes follow the length of the thread. It is Mosal of Resh – a farmer. His thread meanders aimlessly and intersects dozens of others, but never entwines like Thomas of Restenford did. And then, it stops suddenly. Its glow is not cut off like that of Thomas, nor fades like Thomas' wife's. Instead, it ends without warning – without reason. And you sense an invisible thread. A great, menacing force. You pull your gaze back and see a pattern. Something vast and evil murdered thousands in an instant – and you remember the fate of Resh. The entire kingdom fell in a day, just over four years ago. Many stories have been put forth about what happened, but none seemed believable.

While the horror of Resh startles you, the draw of the tapestry remains. You move your gaze elsewhere to find perhaps a happier thread. You see Kaliss, a Goblin prostitute working among the Orcs who now live in the abandoned Elven kingdom of Pleven. Her life is full of misery and you can bear only the briefest of looks.

Next is a young man named Syl. His thread crosses that of a great wizard named Pelham and changes color. Where before, you sensed joy and adventure, after you see only more misery.

You move away again. Somewhere in all these threads, there must be redemption. Some lives that are not cut short by evil or altered beyond repair.

A spell tickles your mind. A gift from Imhotep that remains uncast. “Discern Location”. Normally, it is meant to find a person or object. But now, you realize, it can be used to find a thread. It is a long and complex spell. Would the Fates allow it to be cast?

You glance at the three women – who are watching you with an almost maternal grin on their faces.

”Imhotep's sight will last only a short time – and even now, your friends are preparing your return. You may cast your spell and find one life in the tapestry. Whom do you seek?”

You think for just a moment and then speak. “The only life I have the right to delve into is my own.”

The women smile and share a quiet glance with each other. “You demonstrate why the gods have chosen you, Roderick. You need not cast your spell.”

And then, out of the corner of your eye, a light turns your head. A thread stands out from the others, its glow oddly familiar. It weaves a slow spiral along with several other threads – though not as tight as Thomas and his wife. You follow it and see familiar events: The dead city of Myagmarsuren, The tower amid serpents whose top stretched into chaos, The rubble at the resort that buried the only way home.

You marvel at the threads that cross yours. At first, you see only the ones that intersect and end. So many lives cut short.

But then, you trace a few of those back and see the path of destruction they themselves had made.

And you begin to notice the other things. Faint threads that cross yours and bloom into a bright line, spinning off light in all directions.

Back to your own thread, you begin to see events from Teleme and realize you are following the thread into the past. You hesitate at the realization, but then begin scanning the other direction. Your heart races. Should you keep looking? Is the future knowable? And if you know, can you change it?

These thoughts crowd out your reason for a moment, but the curiosity overrules them all. You keep going.

Threads leave the bundle. New threads arrive. More and more intersections are cut short. There are demons and dragons and death everywhere. And then nothing.

The thread vanishes. Soon. Too soon. The entire bundle of threads vanishes into nothing.

But there is a difference. While other threads either fade slowly or end at the crossing with another life, the bundle you know as "Voyager" dangles into an abyss. You have seen this kind of end on many other threads and the assumption you made was that it was some kind of natural, but early, death. If a man falls from a cliff, his bright thread stops suddenly without intersecting another. But how could the entire party end in the same manner? Surely, an accident could not take you all!

You scan the area trying to make sense of it. And as your pull your vision back, you begin to understand a larger picture.

There is a shadow across the tapestry.

Before you even think to ask a question, the women speak. “When Shadow conquered Limbo, he took on the aspect of Chaos. Now, his fate is beyond our control. And so, those who interact with him are beyond us, as well. If he is not stopped, his gloom will cover the tapestry and there will be no plan.”

You try to study the shadow, but see no detail. Nothing for your true sight to connect with. After a minute or so, you realize you have become transfixed. As there is nothing to learn from your future thread, you force yourself to look elsewhere. Partly from nostalgia, and partly from fear of the coming shadow, you trace it back again into the past. Perhaps there is comfort in your youth.

You see Daniel again. It was good to meet him on the road yesterday. For a moment, you wonder why he is in Hades' realm instead of living in the eternal peace of the offering fields. Could he have failed Anubis's judgement? No. You shake that thought from your mind as soon as it appears.

Daniel's thread follows your own for several years, with frequent excursions out and back. His thread bolstered many and cut short none. A tinge of shame returns. Your thread has cut short many – and even though those who fell by your hand deserved little else, it is still beyond Imhotep's teaching.

And then, you recognize a thread.

Of the many threads that Daniel bolstered, one became far brighter than the average. It is Waran, the man Daniel healed on the road just … yesterday. No … 22 years ago.

Shortly after his encounter with Daniel, his thread spirals loosely around a woman named Velova and then branches away in one direction just before Vincent springs from Velova in the other direction.

Your curiosity battles with your desire to be discreet. Then, you hear the women's voices from earlier: “The past cannot be undone.” Surely, this is acceptable. You are merely delving into the past. Unlocking secrets just as Imhotep demands.

You follow Waran back. Who was he? Why was he fighting the goblins?

His thread fades as you follow it back in time until finally, it merges with what appears to be a family unit. His brother, Areno. Areno's wife, Nysriss. The couple's two children: the baby Teir, and the child … Aramil.

You stop looking toward the past and shift your view toward the future. A sea of red threads swarm across the family. Areno dead. Nysriss dead. Teir dead. But Aramil's thread meanders erratically in one direction as Waran's drifts off in another.

Aramil's thread merges with a coupled pair named Laryn and Delkin. Laryn's thread wanders away from Delkin often and then shuts off suddenly. Delkin and Aramil continue on until the child becomes an adult.

The pieces of the puzzle begin to connect.

Aramil and Vincent are cousins. Bigby's father, Dellpol, sold a potion of forgetfulness to Laryn. Your own priest, Daniel, brought Vincent's father back from near death.

The threads of your lives were entwined long before you ever met at the resort.

The gods have a plan for all of you.

Praise be to Imhotep!

And then you hear a word of power echo through the cavern. It is Bigby speaking the command word for your soul gem.

The world shifts and sharp, intense pains stab deep into your chest and abdomen. You are back in the tomb where the Angel of Imhotep crushed the life from you. Your body, however, has not been sufficiently repaired. You cannot see out of one eye, cannot move your legs, and cannot breathe.

In a few seconds, you will be dead again.

per emails: Flint casts “Cure Serious Wounds” on Roderick. Roderick then casts “Regeneration” on himself.

After Flint casts his healing spell, Roderick regains consciousness. As he is still badly damaged (and in no small amount of pain), he immediately casts a spell on himself – which brings him to a state of some comfort (or at least stability), though he is still in need of additional healing.

Before any of you can offer assistance, he declares that he has an urgent need to cast another spell – but he requires prayer time before he can ready it.

As tradition dictates a certain compassion for the dead and recently dead, the group decides it would be best to leave Roderick in peace while he prepares whatever spell he requires.

Fifteen minutes later, he is ready…

He gets up, strides over to the dead Planetar and begins a spell. It's an unusually long one, but after a minute, he finishes and the creature stirs to life.

Bigby: “Revive Outsider”

The Planetar begins to stand up – its great size would normally tower over Roderick – but it stops short, remains on one knee and bows his head. “Forgive me, hem-netjer, I have fallen. I have forsaken Imhotep and deserve nothing but to have my heart eaten by Ammit.”

Roderick reaches out a hand and places it on the Planetar's head (which, even though bowed, is still above Roderick's shoulder). “It was not of your doing. The creature within you was responsible. He has been destroyed …”

At this, Roderick pauses, turns back to the rest of the party and says, “It is gone, right?”

When he sees a couple of heads nod, he turns back to the Planetar. “Rise up, friend. Serve our master again and Imhotep alone will decide your fate.”

The creature lifts his head slowly, then after a moment's pause, he stands to his full nine feet. He flexes his shoulders and his grey, mottled wings snap out to their full extent at a blinding speed. The dirt and grime that appear to have accumulated over time are shaken loose and the pure, white color of the feathers is restored. The room seems to become brighter.

He brings his wings back to a folded position and reaches toward Roderick.

“You have the mark of Hades on you. Let me rid you of that curse.”

He casts a spell and touches Roderick's forehead.

Roderick: “Heal”

Then, he closes his eyes for a moment and cups his hands together. A bright white light emerges from his palms, leaking through his fingers and rising in intensity until it is too bright to watch directly. Then, the light subsides and he pulls his hands apart to reveal a small bead. He leans close to Roderick, hands him the bead, and whispers something that the rest of you cannot hear.

Aside:

The Angel leans in close to you and says, “My name is Iabi. Speak my name and I will come.”
The bead he hands you is a “Bead of Summons” and it can be easily fitted onto your Strand of Prayer Beads.

About this time, Kir Ganin, your blind Lomasi Guide, raises his head to the ceiling and says quietly, “Godsland awaits.”

Above you, at the apex of the tomb chamber, a fog has appeared. It floats just a few feet below the ceiling – roughly 20 feet above your heads.

As you rise up through the fog, you emerge into a steep-walled natural cavern. From above, daylight spills in through a small hole about twenty feet farther up the rocky slope. A crisp, cool humidity permeates the air and lines of water trickle down the rock. Outside, you hear rain.

The sound and smell of the rain – even from this far away – erases the fatigue and despair that had so permeated your being that you could not remember their absence – until now.

After settling on the floor of the cavern, your guide, Kir, points his blind eyes to the hole above and says simply, “She is here.”

The rock walls are steep and wet, but Kir begins to navigate them with ease. He seems driven by a purpose you have not seen since he hurried you out of Hades' waiting room four … or was it five? days ago.

As there is no other exit, it seems natural to follow him. After all, he claims to be your guide.

By a combination of climbing and magic, you emerge from the hole onto a green, grassy field. Behind you, a snow-capped mountain looms larger and more awesome than any you have seen so far in your lives. (And this is true even for Pavo). Ahead, rolling grassy hills descend into a long, lush valley. Aside from the grass, there are no other plants other than a lone white poplar tree about one hundred yards to your left.

Above you, a dark, heavy rain cloud hovers. Farther down the valley, and up the slope of the mountain, you see sunlight and blue sky. But here, the rain is steady, hard, and warm. Unlike a normal shower, it does not vary in strength. No matter where you stand, large drops pelt you incessantly. While at first, some of you have an instinct to shield yourself from it, this feeling passes almost as soon as you are directly exposed to it.

It feels … wonderful.

Some of you are reminded of the look Roget got when the rains came. While the rest of you would scamper to cover, he would stop, tilt his head back and close his eyes – as if the rain were a religious experience. Of course, in a way, it was.

You notice the scrapes and wounds from the past few days begin to fade. The ache of the climb, the despair of near-constant fear, and the stress of an unknown future melt with each new drop.

After a minute of silence, Bigby notices Kir. He emerged ahead of you and stands some distance from the hole. But instead of the serenity that you feel, he stands with shoulders slumped and head bowed. You approach slowly to see that his clothes remain dry, his hair still dusty from passing through the tomb. The only moisture on him is a tear etching a line through the dust on one cheek.

“This does not seem to touch you,” Bigby observes. He points to the rain.

Kir turns, shaken from his reverie. “My penance is not yet complete.”

He shambles back to the cave opening and begins to climb back in. As he does so, his hand touches the wet rock near the entrance and he recoils in shock. His fingers are wet. He brings them to his lips to taste the rain and his tears begin to flow.

“Thank you, my queen,” he whispers to the sky, and then turns and descends back into the darkness.

After he is gone, you begin to look to each other. “What next?” you think. But just as you start to voice your question, you hear a voice.

“Well done, voyagers.” A woman's voice comes from nowhere and when you turn to locate it, the rain fills an empty shell in the air and as suddenly as she appears, the rain stops.

“I am Matchitisiw.”

She is young – perhaps in her twenties, with a slight, almost elven, build. Her hair is a deep black and her skin is gold. She wears a flimsy, sheer white robe with nothing underneath, that clings to her skin as if she has just come from a bath. A black belt is emblazoned in silver with the same stylized rain cloud that Kir has on his belt. On her left hand is a plain, gold wedding ring. And she is visibly pregnant.

Those of you with a preference for females (of any race) become immediately (and almost uncomfortably) aroused. All of you are struck by her divine beauty and find that all you want to do right now is listen to her.

“Divine Aura”: Will save DC 33 – you all failed and are “dazed” – You can defend yourselves normally, but take no other actions

She steps toward Roderick. “Hello, Roderick,” she begins. Her voice has a background hiss like the sound of falling rain. “We have never met in person – despite what you may believe.” She reaches up and strokes her fingers across Roderick's cheek. “I am sorry to say that many challenges remain ahead for you – and bringing light to the shadow is not the only one. But Imhotep will help you when you need him and you will help him when he needs you.”

Then, she steps to Bria. As she does, some of you spot a look of surprise cross Roderick's face as he staggers back a half-step. He grabs for the mace at his belt – a seemingly instinctive move – but then steadies himself as a calm returns to him. He gives a knowing nod to those who noticed him. A silent gesture that everything is fine.

Aside:

Right after she turns away from you, you hear a scream in your head that startles you and makes you step back. An instant later, you realize it is coming from Salinthine, so you instinctively put your hand to it. The scream lasts only a second or two before subsiding and becoming coherent.
“Ahhh! What? Who? Where am I? … Roderick? Are we safe now? I sense no undead. What happened to me?”
And then, almost without a gap, it says, “Ooo! What kind of spear is that over there?! It looks fabulous!”

To Bria, she says, “You have much to know, Bria. But I understand and accept your decision if you choose not to join Roderick's quest into shadow.” She gently touches Bria's neck.

Next, she turns to Lashmere. “Your role here is complete. It is time you learn what it is to be a man, and not a pawn in a game beyond your control. I release you from the shadow.” She touches his cheek and he, too, staggers back as if shocked.

Next, Bigby. “My sister gave you part of a gift. I will give you the rest when I leave. Keep it secret and safe until you are home.” She brushes a finger across his chin.

Throughout all of this, the Planetar has stood stoically. When she steps to him, he drops to a knee and bows his head. “You are one of the Rivers, are you not?” he asks – his face pointed to her feet.

She reaches up to place her hand on the top of his head, however because or her size, he is obliged to lower himself a few more inches so she can reach. “Yes, Iabi, I am a daughter of the ocean. I grant you leave to return to your master. It is not my place to decide your fate.” With her right hand still on his head, she gestures with her left and the great winged man vanishes.

She walks across to Pavo. “My sister, Leuce, waits for you across the field with a gift.” She gestures toward the poplar tree with one hand, while touching two fingers to his face with the other.

Next is the Githzerai. “Limbo is still in shadow, Ust'olda. You have a role to play, but it does not involve the crystals. You must not speak of them – even to your allies. Do you understand?” She touches both sides of his face with her hands and stares intently into his eyes for a few seconds, before moving on to the next person.

“Aramil, your strength has served you and your companions well. And it will be needed again in the coming months. But, as you learn from the beast, do not lose the man.” She touches Aramil's forehead.

Next is Flint. She reaches a hand to his forehead and speaks some words in an ancient language. “I grant you life so that you may return to the world anew, Manth!nar'h.” (She pronounces the name flawlessly). “You have been granted a second chance. Use it wisely and you can yet protect your people from the coming gloom.”

Flint: “True Resurrection” (or more accurately, “Divine Ability: Gift of Life”) – something you did not know you were in need of

Finally, she comes to Vincent. “You alone have seen Shadow, Vincent. You know, perhaps more than the others, his uncaring malice toward the twenty worlds. Remember this always. It is your greatest weapon.” She touches his face.

To All: You have been granted a permanent “Resistance” spell. You may choose one of the following effects: Either the standard spell (+1 to all saves) or a specialized version (+2 vs. fear effects). Note: This can only be dispelled by a being with a Divine Rank higher than 8

After she finishes with each of you, Matchitisiw steps gracefully to the side and scans her eyes across the group of you.

“Any questions?” she asks, in a tone that sounds far more matter-of-fact than you expect from such a being. While before, you could barely keep your mouth closed as she stepped from one to the next of you, now you find that the fog her beauty created is fading from your mind.

A few seconds of awkward silence follow while you try to refocus your minds to ask the questions that are only now bubbling to your lips.

Bigby manages to react first. “Um, yes … I have three. Do the Gods have Free Will? Is there purity in Chaos? And how is Roget?”

She smiles slightly before speaking. “What is free will, Bigby? Who defines it? And who grants it? Can such a thing even be granted?

“When we created ourselves, we also created the Fates to weave the tapestry of the universe. Can we be slave to our own creation? The gods define free will.

“As for Chaos, it is a force that both created and will eventually destroy this existance. Those on Limbo believe they can control Chaos – but they cannot. When controlled, it becomes something else. And if it ever becomes pure, then all that is will be no more and the cycle will begin anew.”

Then, she hesitates and looks away for a moment. She rests her hand on her belly and smiles again, as if reliving a fond memory. ”Roget is … happy,” she finally continues. “He has taken to his new role amongst the Lomasi with great determination. I foresee from him a great dynasty that will someday rule more than just the Lomasi – and more than just the Dyanaî.”

She scans across the group again – which reminds you that it is time to ask your questions. Roderick is next to speak.

“Matchitisiw, thank you for all you have done for us. It is good to finally see you for the first time, and I hope that all is well with you, your people, and with Roget.

“If I may, I would like to ask a question of you. In these trials that we have been through, are the people in them inhabitants of Hades' realm, or are they the images of those who have passed on to the afterlife in their respective planes?”

“Both,” she is quick to answer. “The Fates were only able to populate their creations with those who had already departed the world of the living. It is true you were traveling through Hades' realm and that he rules only a portion of the land of the dead, but the Fates could draw from all the dead.”

Then, as if she senses the relevance, she continues, “Worry not about Daniel, Roderick. He rests in the Offering Fields aside your lord.”

Turning back to the rest of you, she says in a more boisterous voice, “And since you also ask about Roget, perhaps it is fitting that you all see your old comrade.”

She gestures to the clouds above with a single, outstretched hand, palm up. A second later, a small cylinder of rain appears next to her. The drops begin to glint with a rainbow of colors until the whole forms an image. After a few more seconds, you no longer see rain and instead see a scene from somewhere else.

Roget is sitting on a rock, head cradled in his hands. He is surrounded by a number of young men holding wooden swords and makeshift shields. Slowly, he rises. He has become more muscled, seemingly, and there is something … different about him … perhaps something in the way he carries himself.

He speaks to the assembled young men, “OK … because yesterday someone's feelings got hurt, today I'll start with everything you did right … none of you managed to stab yourselves with your practice swords.” In the background, a young man hides his bleeding arm behind his back. “As for what you did wrong … ”

The sound in the image shuts off while the very animated Roget continues his lecture. It's Roget all right. And you realize what the difference is … he is having the time of his life.

The image disperses into colored rain drops. Then rain drops. Then, it's gone.

Matchitisiw turns back to the group and Vincent steps forward.

“When the time comes,” he asks, “is there one among us whom you favor to wield the assembled crystals?”

“The crystals are a key to a larger prize. As such, it does not matter who opens the door – but that the door is opened.”

Vincent continues, “Do Aramil's memories contain information that would significantly aid our quest to defeat the Shadow Lord?”

”Aramil's youth was nothing but torment and sorrow. The loss of those memories is no loss at all.“

“I am concerned about Bigby's use of the Chaos Wand. Is it harming him?”

“All powerful magic has risk. But the wand should concern you more for where it came from, rather than what it is. The Lords of Chaos now bend to the will of Shadow. All that is of Limbo is now of Shadow.”

Then, Vincent hesitates for a second, his eyes touch upon many of the rest of you. Finally, he asks, “Who is my Father?”

“The pieces of the puzzle of your life – and that of your cousin – were used to demonstrate a point. Roderick should understand that point, now – and in time, he can provide you with the answers you need.”

Before Vincent can digest the answer or consider a follow-up, Pavo blurts out a series of questions – as if he fears he will miss his opportunity if they are not asked immediately.

“Would it be advisable to attempt to claim my birthright, either in the long deep or elsewhere? Should I follow clan law, or lay my claim without the assistance of my family, my uncles in particular? Should I rely on force of arms, the assistance of my campaign companions both current and past, or perhaps a powerful combination of both? How would you direct my path for a favorable outcome?”

“There is no such thing as a birthright – though people have killed and died to defend them. The greatest of kings can lose his throne. And the lowest of serfs can rise to be worshiped as a god.

“If you believe you have a right to something, then it will be yours only if you claim it – and only if you hold it. But doing so with force of arms is more difficult and dangerous than with compromise and negotiation. Your uncles are wise, but can be undone by greed. Whether that is their weakness or their strength is a matter of how they are approached.

“As for your companions, I sense that the deep frictions that have plagued your company from the beginning are kept at bay only by the larger obligations. If you survive the coming challenges – which are not limited to the crystal in the Drow city – then I foresee few of them willing or able to help you.”

As Pavo puzzles through his answers, trying to decide whether she answered them all, Bria steps up. “Will I ever regain my kingdom?”

“Though the land it once occupied is now fouled with orcs, Bria, your kingdom lives on with Corellon in Arborea. When the human kingdoms have been restored to Thentao's northern coast, the forest folk will return. But what was once Pleven will not be seen for centuries, if ever.”

She scans her eyes over you all once more, pauses for no more than a second, then turns her head to the clouds. Instantly, the rain returns – harder than before.

“You may rest here as long as you need. Hades no longer shields you from returning home. But do not wander. These lands have boundaries like any other – and many of the landholders here do not appreciate trespassers.”

And with that, her body melts into water and flashes upward into the dark clouds overhead.

The rain continues unabated for a very long time.

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