Zeus knelt down beside Arabella, his voice calm yet filled with a weight that carried his promise.
"Do you have something that belongs to your parents?" he asked, knowing the importance of a tangible connection to guide his search. Arabella’s small hand reached up to her left ear, where a single earring hung—a delicate silver piece, likely a mementos she had from her parents. She hesitated, her fingers brushing the earring as if she was deciding whether to hold on to this last piece of them or to entrust it to Zeus.
"I need it to track your parents," Zeus explained gently, aware of the inner turmoil she must be feeling. The earring was not just jewelry; it was a symbol of her bond with her parents, a bond she feared might already be broken. After a moment, Arabella slowly unclasped the earring, her small fingers trembling as she finally placed it into Zeus’s outstretched palm.
Zeus gave her a reassuring nod before standing up, his resolve hardening. "Follow me," he said to Arabella. "I’ll get you somewhere safe." His voice was calm but firm, a pillar of strength for the girl who was placing her last hope in him. He turned to the rest of the group, his voice steady. "The rest of you remain here. I’ll return as fast as I can."
They ascended the stairs out of the secret chamber and into the devastated town square, where darkness seemed to press in from all sides. A pair of raven-like wings grew from his back, their inky feathers blending with the darkness around them. He extended his hand to Arabella, who hesitated for a moment before placing her small hand in his. Her eyes widened as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms, holding her close as they took off into the sky.
As they soared through the air, Arabella’s fear gradually gave way to awe. "This is awesome," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder that momentarily pushed aside the fear and sorrow she had been carrying.
Zeus approached the dome of light surrounding the Last Light Inn, noticing movement within the protective barrier. His sharp eyes caught the glint of arrows being drawn, but with a swift maneuver, he dodged the incoming projectiles, his wings beating with powerful strokes as they descended onto the island. As soon as he landed, people began gathering around him, their expressions a mix of hope and desperation. The crowd parted as an owlbear cub and a silvery dog made their way to the front, looking at Zeus with a familiarity that spoke of past encounters.
"It seems Bullet did his job," Zeus thought, recognizing the dog and the owlbear they saved at the goblin camp.
Jaheira emerged from the inn, her expression a mix of relief and frustration. "You’ve got to stop doing that," she chided, though there was no real anger in her voice. "Why have you returned? Have you found the necromancer?" Her eyes fell on the young tiefling girl by Zeus’s side.
"Not yet, but I needed to get her here. That’s why I’ve returned," Zeus explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Arabella?" a familiar voice called out from the crowd. Zevlor pushed his way through, his face lighting up as he saw the girl. "Zevlor!" Arabella cried, rushing into his arms. The tiefling leader embraced her tightly, his relief palpable.
"Are there any urgent matters that require my attention?" Zeus asked Jaheira.
The old half-elf shook her head. "No, but that doesn’t mean you should be wasting time." Her words were direct, but her eyes held a flicker of concern, a subtle hint that there was more she wasn’t saying.
"She’s telling the truth, but she’s omitting something," Glut confirmed through their telepathic link. "They’ve spotted scouts around this area. It won’t be long before they decide to attack this place."
Before Zeus could respond, a man stepped forward from the crowd. He was built like a bull, with skin darkened and leathery from years of toil under the sun. His presence was commanding, yet there was a quiet desperation in his eyes as he fell to his knees before Zeus, followed by the rest of the people around him. The Harpers, standing at the perimeter, exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what was happening.
"Selûne has sent you to save us, and for that, we are deeply grateful," the man said, his voice steady but laden with emotion. "We beg you to let us fight by your side, to get revenge for the family, friends, and lovers we lost at the hand of the Absolute."
A heavy silence fell over the crowd, the air thick with tension and unspoken grief. Zeus looked down at the man, seeing the raw pain etched into his features. He understood their desire for vengeance, but he also knew the cost. These people were not warriors—they were survivors.
"This can’t be done," Zeus said firmly, pausing to let his words sink in. He knew that accepting their plea would only lead them to their deaths.
The man’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with frustration and helplessness. But he didn’t argue. He simply nodded, his eyes downcast as Zeus turned away, his wings unfurling once more as he took off, heading back to the town square.
Jaheira watched him go, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned and headed back to the inn.
---
Back in the chamber beneath the town square, the air was thick with tension after Zeus and Arabella's departure. The flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows on the stone walls, mirroring the unease in the room. Shadowheart sat apart from the others, her face a mask of unreadable emotion as she stared into the flames, her thoughts churning with a mix of anger and confusion.
Wyll finally broke the silence, his voice low but pointed. “What’s with your sudden hostility towards Zeus? Do you really despise Selûne that much?”
Shadowheart’s gaze shifted to him, her eyes cold as winter. “Of course I do. He serves the deity that is the sworn enemy of mine.” Her words were sharp, each syllable laced with a bitterness that had been festering for some time.
Gale, frowned slightly. “But does he? Have you ever seen him offer a prayer to either Lathander or Selûne? It seems... odd.”
Karlach chimed in, “Now that you mention it, don’t clerics need to pray to their gods for power? He doesn’t act like any cleric I’ve ever seen.”
Minthara, who had been silent until now, spoke up with a voice tinged with admiration. “Zeus’s situation is unlike any other. He wields divine magic with absolute control, yet he does not beg or plead with his deities. As a paladin, I know the struggle of waiting, the uncertainty of divine favor. But Zeus commands this power as if it is his by right, as if he is above the gods themselves. It’s an act of sheer will, dominating something that belongs to entities far greater than us.”
Wyll turned to Gale, seeking the wisdom of the learned wizard. “Have you ever encountered anything like this before?”
Gale shook his head slowly, deep in thought. “Devas come closest, but even they do not wield elemental magic with such autonomy. And we’ve all seen... the way he can change... what he becomes when the battle rages.”
The memory of Zeus sprouting tentacles and consuming the bridge's cultists with terrifying efficiency hung in the air.
Shadowheart, not swayed by their musings, set her jaw and said firmly, “I don’t care what he is. I don’t trust him.”
Astarion, lounging against the wall, smirked and murmured, “Says the sharran.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Shadowheart’s eyes flashed with anger, and she shot back, “Says the spawn who can barely keep his fangs off our necks while we sleep.”
Astarion’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flare of indignation. “You...”
Lae’zel, cut through their bickering with a commanding tone. “Enough. You fools don’t see what’s in front of you. Zeus brought us here for a reason—to test us.”
The group fell silent, turning their attention to Lae’zel, urging her to explain further.
“His strength is already beyond anything we’ve seen,” she continued, her voice hard and matter-of-fact. “Did you forget how he nearly obliterated the Absolute’s army that attacked the grove? He didn’t bring us along because he needed us. He brought us to see if we were worthy, if we could be of any use to him.”
Lae’zel’s words hung heavy in the air, the truth of them sinking in. The realization that they might be mere pawns in Zeus’s game—or something more—left a bitter taste in their mouths.
Zeus was outside ,watching and listening trough 'Alex' .
Then, the Guardian’s voice slithered into their minds, persuasive. "Lae'zel is right, but Zeus may have ulterior motives. Perhaps it's time to sever ties with him and infiltrate the Towers, where the source of this madness lies."
Wyll’s shoulders sagged, defeat written across his face. “We don’t stand a chance against a tower full of cultists, not to mention whatever abominations might be lurking there.”
Karlach, sensing Wyll’s despair, asked gently, “Wyll, what’s going on with you? Ever since we got here, you’ve seemed... beaten down.”
Wyll bit his lip, staring at his hand as if it held the answers to all his doubts. “I’m the Blade of Frontiers, the Sword of Cost, a hero who fights against evil. But since all this madness started, what have I done? Nothing. If Zeus hadn’t intervened, if he hadn’t saved us, we wouldn’t be here. He’s the reason we’re even standing here right now.”
Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart exchanged somber glances. They understood the pain in Wyll’s words, the way he was measuring himself against Zeus and coming up short. It wasn’t jealousy that gnawed at him but the realization that his strength—the strength for which he had sold his soul—was not enough.
“Wyll,” Karlach began, her voice soft yet firm, “you’re a good leader. Don’t compare yourself to him. Your past deeds won’t be forgotten just because you can’t end this war alone.”
Her words seemed to reach him, lifting the fog of doubt from his mind, if only a little.
Then, the Guardian’s voice whispered seductively in their thoughts. "Everyone has the potential to become stronger if you embrace the power of the tadpole."
Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed as the suggestion was abhorrent to her.
Wyll clenched his fists .
Karlach placed a comforting hand on Wyll’s shoulder, her warmth a small but significant comfort. “Wyll, you’ve already sacrificed so much. Don’t let this tear you apart. We’re in this together, and we’ll find another way.”
Wyll looked at her, his eyes haunted by the weight of his choices. “But what if there isn’t another way, Karlach? What if this is all we have left?”
Gale, who had been listening intently, spoke, his voice calm yet resolute. “Strength isn’t just about power, Wyll. It’s about conviction, wisdom, and the choices we make. Zeus is strong—stronger than any of us alone—but that doesn’t make him invincible. Nor does it make us powerless.”
Shadowheart nodded, her expression softening as she added, “Wyll, you’ve led us through more than just battles. You’ve been the heart of this group, the one who keeps us together when everything else falls apart. Don’t underestimate the value of that.”
Wyll swallowed hard, the tightness in his chest easing slightly as their words reached him. But still, doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. “I appreciate what you’re saying. Can we trust Zeus? How do we know he isn’t leading us into something far worse?”
Lae’zel stepped forward, her voice a blade cutting through the uncertainty. “Zeus’s motives are his own. Whether he seeks to use us or test us, we cannot rely on him alone. We are not followers. If we are to survive, we must make our own decisions, forge our own path.”
The group fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their predicament pressing down on them like a physical force. They were trapped between the fear of becoming something monstrous and the desperate need for power to face the overwhelming forces against them.
“I still think severing ties with Zeus is a mistake,” Gale finally said, his voice steady. “But we can’t ignore the possibility that he has his own agenda. We need to be smart. We need to be prepared for anything.”
Karlach nodded, a fierce determination burning in her eyes. “ If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. No more doubts, no more second-guessing ourselves. We’re a team, and we’re stronger together.”
Shadowheart glanced at Karlach, then back at Wyll, her gaze resolute yet tender. “Wyll, no one’s asking you to be Zeus. We just need you to be you—the man who fights for what’s right, who inspires us to keep going even when everything seems impossible.”
Wyll looked around at his companions, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and gratitude. He had been so lost in his doubts that he had forgotten what truly mattered—the bond they shared, the strength they drew from each other.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice steadying. “You’re right. We’ve come too far to give up now. We’ll find a way through this—together.”
Lae’zel, still wary of the Guardian’s influence, cast a final glance at her companions. “Then we move forward .We must remain vigilant. Trust in each other, not in the power that seeks to corrupt us.”
A renewed resolve settled over them. The doubts that had plagued them were not entirely gone, but they were tempered by the knowledge that they were stronger together than apart. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was Zeus’s hidden motives, the corruption of the tadpole, or the horrors within the towers—they would face it head-on, united in purpose.
Astarion, however, seemed more amused than anything, as if he was enjoying the drama unfolding around him.
“Whatever happens,” Astarion said with a smirk, “it’s clear that we’re in for a wild ride. I, for one, am curious to see where this little adventure leads.”
Minthara looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Just remember, Astarion, that curiosity can be a dangerous thing. It can lead you to power—or to ruin.”
Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “I’ve always been a fan of high stakes.”
Their eyes darted toward the balcony up ahead as the sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber. They looked up just in time to see Zeus approaching, his figure bathed in a fiery light that pushed the shadows away like a beacon in the dark. Without a word, he leaped from the balcony, landing softly before them. Even though his eyes were obscured by the dome covering his face, they could feel his gaze scrutinizing them.
“Is everyone ready?” Zeus asked, his voice calm and steady.
“They had a little bit of drama. They almost made me shed a tear, but I think we’re good to go,” Astarion quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Zeus nodded, then turned toward the wall, sitting between two imposing statues. With a practiced hand, he traced a circular shape on the wall, leaving behind a barely visible substance. With a light push, a hole formed in the stone. A small orb of golden light appeared around Zeus, floating gently through the hole to reveal a hidden chamber. Inside stood a statue of Shar, different from the others—a dark altar where the statue held a bowl with a dagger resting on its edge.
Zeus moved to step through the opening, but Shadowheart was quicker, brushing past him with determination.
“That’s foolish. The room could be trapped,” Zeus thought, his concern evident as he watched her stride forward.
“Wait here,” he instructed, stepping through the hole to examine the chamber for traps.
He raised his foot and slammed it onto the stone floor, sending tremors through the ground. Sensing no traps beneath, he moved to the wall, striking it with his palm. Again, nothing. Satisfied, he turned to the others.
“You can step inside. There are no traps,” Zeus confirmed.
The rest of the party followed him inside, their eyes quickly landing on Shadowheart, who was already holding the dagger. With a swift motion, she slashed her palm, letting her blood drip into the bowl held by the statue.
As the blood pooled, a cloud of smoke enveloped the pedestal to their right and left. When it dissipated, it revealed several potions and scrolls neatly arranged. Shadowheart turned to the group with a smug expression, her gaze challenging Zeus.
Unfazed, Zeus walked past her, his attention focused on the items. He uncorked one of the potions, allowing a few drops to fall into his palm.
“Just a standard healing potion,” Zeus thought, inspecting the rest of the items to ensure they weren’t cursed or tampered with. Once satisfied, he allowed the party to take what they needed.
Everything seemed fine until they heard a clicking sound behind them—a sound that was unmistakably deliberate. Turning sharply, they saw three armored figures step through the hole, their silver armor gleaming with the symbol of Shar emblazoned on their chests.
Zeus could feel their presence, but something was off. These were not living beings.
Shadowheart’s eyes widened as she moved toward the figures, but Zeus stopped her with a firm hand.
“They’re not alive,” Zeus stated flatly.
“You must have triggered something when you entered this room,” Shadowheart accused, her voice dripping with venom.
“Or maybe it was the other way around,” Zeus mused, his arm shifting into a gleaming blade as he rushed toward the figures.
His blade arm glowed with radiant light as he spun like a whirlwind, slicing through the armored figures with ease. The metal clattered to the ground, destroyed by his attack, and a dark smoke rose from the remains—no flesh, no blood, just hollow shells.
“Let’s go,” Zeus beckoned, leading them toward the stairs.
When they reached the surface, Zeus halted, turning to address them. Arabella earing was gently floating in his palm. glowing with a purple light .“We’re heading North , to the cemetery.” he explained.