The party stepped cautiously through the heavy, wrought-iron gates of the cemetery. Zeus suddenly raised his hand, signaling them to halt. He raised his finger and pointed to something in the distance, and the group looked in that direction. There, in the shadows ahead, faint lights flickered like distant fireflies—torches and moonlanterns bobbing through the dark.
"Move back," Zeus commanded, his voice barely a murmur, yet it carried enough authority that everyone immediately obeyed.
Silently, they retreated back into the cemetery, taking cover behind an old, weathered crypt. The tension was palpable, each member of the party holding their breath as they crouched in the shadows, waiting for Zeus to explain.
"Why didn't we attack them?" Karlach whispered, her voice tinged with frustration. "We’re stronger than a bunch of cultists."
"If they saw us," Alex finally spoke, his voice low and cautious, "they'd realize where we’re coming from. They’d guess we’re after Balthazar."
Zeus nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving the flickering lights in the distance. "They’re already on edge. If we push them further, they might act unpredictably. The last thing we need is for them to do something rash, especially this close to the towers and the Elder Brain."
Karlach, understanding the wisdom in his words, gave a small nod. She knew from experience how dangerous a cornered enemy could be—erratic, desperate, and lethal. It was a risk they couldn’t afford to take.
"So, what’s the plan?" Wyll asked, his eyes flicking between the group and the lights ahead.
Zeus pointed to a gnarled tree on the edge of the cemetery, where twisted roots formed a natural bridge . "From there, we can reach Last Light." he said.
Astarion, raised an eyebrow. "You’re going to carry us by flight?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful, which brought smirks and chuckles from the others.
Zeus shook his head with a slight smile. "I’ll cast Water Walk on everyone."
Karlach grinned, giving him a thumbs-up. "Sounds good to me," she said, eager to escape the oppressive gloom that clung to the cemetery.
The party moved cautiously toward the bridge. The twisted roots creaked under their weight as they crossed, the sound of water rushing below a stark contrast to the silence they’d just left behind. They reached the back of a large, looming mansion that was shrouded in darkness. The building was eerily silent, save for the brief moment when a shadowy figure appeared at one of the windows before vanishing into the night.
Zeus sensed a presence—a malignant force lurking just beyond their sight. He quickly conjured a dome of radiant energy around the group, just in time to deflect a shadowy figure that lunged from the darkness.
The creature before them was unlike the shadows they had encountered before. It had a vaguely human shape, but its body was shrouded in a dark, viscous substance that seemed almost solid. Wisps of dark smoke rose from its form, and its eyes, glowing an eerie green, pierced through the darkness, sending a chill down their spines. It held a dagger in its hand, the blade glinting with malevolent intent.
The mansion’s back door creaked open, and two more shades emerged, these wielding swords that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Above, on the roof, another shade, this one armed with a bow, took aim.
Zeus didn't waste a moment. With a swift gesture, he sent a wave of radiant energy toward the shades. But before the light could reach them, the shades dissipated into clouds of smoke, reappearing in different spots.
"They’re intelligent," Zeus thought, his mind racing. These were no mindless undead—they had cunning, strategy. But they were still undead, and that was their fatal flaw.
A golden liquid began to seep from Zeus, flowing from his body like molten metal. It coalesced above him, forming a shifting, radiant orb. The orb pulsated with divine energy, glowing brighter until it split into a dozen smaller orbs, each one like a miniature sun.
The shades returned, battering against the dome of light that protected the party. Their attacks were relentless—swords clanged against the barrier, daggers slashed, and arrows thudded uselessly against the radiant shield. But the dome held firm.
Zeus snapped his fingers, and the miniature orbs, glowing like ethereal fireflies, sprang to life. With a wave of his wrist, he directed the fireflies toward the shades. The shadows attempted to teleport away, but the fireflies pursued them with unerring accuracy. The moment the first firefly touched a shade, it ignited with holy fire, reducing a large portion of its body to ash.
The party watched in awe as Zeus conducted the fireflies with the precision of a maestro, guiding them to each shade until they were nothing but dust in the wind. The golden orbs reformed into the larger orb above Zeus before it was absorbed back into his body, leaving the battlefield silent once more.
Zeus turned to the party, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.
"What was that?" Shadowheart asked, her voice trembling slightly. As a cleric, she could use holy magic too , but nothing coming close to what she just witness.
"A blessing," Zeus said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Minthara, her voice filled with admiration, spoke up. "I have never seen a display as elegant as that. To wield holy magic with such ease, in such an exquisite way... it is a gift."
"Those were constructs, weren’t they?" Gale asked, his eyes still wide with wonder.
"More or less," Zeus replied, not offering more than that.
"That was beautiful," Karlach said softly, her usual bravado replaced with genuine appreciation.
Horace, who had been blinded by the undead surgeon, looked around, trying to understand what had happened. "What did I miss?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
Wyll quickly explained. "Zeus formed a golden ball from a liquid that flowed from his body. Then, it split into smaller orbs, glowing like fireflies. They chased the shadows that attacked us and turned them to ash."
Horace sighed, his voice laced with bitterness. "That sounds like a sight to behold. Such a shame I couldn’t see it."
Astarion couldn’t resist a jab. "Do we really need Shadowheart, knowing that he can do that?" he asked, pointing to Zeus with a smirk.
Shadowheart didn’t respond, her eyes downcast as she grappled with her own thoughts.
Zeus, sensing the tension, moved his fingers and began casting Water Walk on the party. One by one, they tested the spell—Wyll stepping cautiously onto the water first, followed by the others. Horace needed a bit of help, but Alex was quick to offer a steadying hand.
As they walked across the water, a few harpers noticed them from a distance. Arrows were nocked and drawn, but Zeus’s figure, bathed in the light of the moon, was unmistakable, and the harpers lowered their weapons, recognizing the party as allies.
After reaching the shore, they made their way to the inn’s entrance. Zeus paused, his eyes scanning the area outside, searching for someone.
Zeus spotted her—standing beside an old man, her face half-hidden behind his protective arm. She was the little girl he had met before. Slowly, Zeus approached her, his steps measured and calm. The old man’s arm tightened around her, as if to shield her from harm.
Zeus kneeled before the pair. He pulled out a small, familiar doll—its once torn and tattered body now fully repaired, looking as good as new.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The girl’s eyes widened in recognition as Zeus held out the doll. "You can have it back," he said softly, his voice warm and gentle.
The girl hesitated, glancing up at the old man, who gave a reluctant nod. Tentatively, she stepped forward and took the doll from Zeus’s hands. As she hugged it tightly, she whispered, "Thank you."
Zeus would have smiled if he had a mouth . He started to stand, but was stopped as the little girl suddenly wrapped her small arms around him in a quick, heartfelt embrace. She let go just as quickly, stepping back to rejoin the old man, who watched the exchange with a mixture of surprise and relief.
As Zeus rejoined the party, they were looking at him with a variety of expressions—Gale, Wyll, and Shadowheart seemed moved by the gesture, while Minthara, Astarion, and Lae’zel regarded him with newfound interest.
"That was very kind of you," Karlach said, her voice full of admiration.
Zeus nodded, and they entered the inn.
Inside, they stopped, their eyes widening at the sight before them. A bear was lumbering around the room, a githyanki toddler perched atop its back, laughing in pure delight. The bear, sensing the newcomers, halted its playful movements, turning its massive head to regard them. Lae’zel’s eyes widened as she saw the child. She rushed forward, stopping just short of the bear.
"The egg," she murmured, her voice barely audible as she stared at the toddler, the realization hitting her like a thunderbolt.
The child, with wide, curious eyes, reached out to Lae’zel, a small hand beckoning her closer. Hesitant at first, she slowly approached, finally lifting the child into her arms. A soft smile spread across her usually stern face.
The bear shimmered, its form melting away to reveal Halsin, the druid, standing tall and imposing. He regarded the scene with a gentle smile before turning to the group.
"Was your mission successful?" he asked, his voice calm but expectant.
Zeus stepped forward, revealing the battered lute they had found at the House of Healing. "We found something that might bring Art Cullagh back to his senses," he said, holding up the instrument.
A small smile tugged at Halsin’s lips. "Then what are we waiting for?" he said, gesturing for them to follow.
The party gathered around Art Cullagh's bed, the air thick with anticipation. Art lay there, vulnerable and frail, dressed only in a pair of ragged pants, his body covered in bandages that barely concealed the scars of his torment. His skin was dark, almost weathered from years of exposure to the harsh elements, and his curly black hair matted and tangled, the same color as his unruly beard.
"Mm, mm... Thaniel and me are... climb, climb, climbing up a tree..." Art murmured, his voice a ghostly echo of a man lost in a world of nightmares.
Halsin, leaned closer, his brow furrowed with concern. "He keeps saying Thaniel's name—he must know more. We need to rouse him," Halsin explained, his voice tinged with urgency. "The lute music might help restore him. Show it to him."
Zeus's hands, steady and sure, took hold of the lute—a battered instrument that had seen better days, yet carried with it the weight of memories long past. His fingers moved over the strings, coaxing a hauntingly beautiful melody from the lute, a song Art once played with all the joy and love of a younger man. The notes danced through the room, wrapping around the fragile threads of Art's consciousness.
The effect was immediate. Art's eyes flew open, wild and desperate. He bolted upright, his voice trembling with panic. "Thaniel! He's still trapped there—he needs help!" His cry cut through the silence.
Halsin placed a firm hand on Art's shoulder, his voice a calming balm. "Calm. Breathe. You've been trapped in the Shadowfell for a century—take a moment to clear your mind." He spoke with the gentle authority of someone who understood the weight of the words he was saying, his gaze never leaving Art’s frightened eyes.
Art's frantic breathing began to slow as he looked down at the white sheet he was sitting on, his mind struggling to process the enormity of what had happened to him. "A century..." he murmured, the word heavy with disbelief. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet Halsin’s. "You’re Halsin. Thaniel said to find you. You must help him, please."
"I will," Halsin promised, his voice steady and full of resolve. "But I need to know where Thaniel is. If I venture into the Shadowfell blind, I will never find him."
Art closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to recall the twisted, ever-shifting landscape of the Shadowfell. "I’m not sure I can put it into words—the landscape there shifts and changes. It’s like trying to hold onto smoke."
Zeus, his voice a steady anchor, spoke up. "Was there anything that could offer guidance? Something that didn’t change?"
Art turned his gaze to Zeus, and for a moment, panic flared in his eyes. Halsin quickly placed a reassuring hand on Art’s shoulder, grounding him.
"Sorry," Art whispered, once he had calmed down. "Lavender... Whenever I saw Thaniel, I always smelled lavender."
A flicker of hope sparked in Halsin’s eyes. "I can work with that. Rest now." He gently helped Art lie back down, his movements careful and deliberate, as though afraid the man might shatter from the mere touch.
As Art settled into the bed, his eyes closed, Halsin turned to Zeus, his expression grim but determined. "Follow me to the lakeshore. I have what we need to proceed, but I'll need your help. Be ready—this may prove... perilous."
Zeus nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. But before he could take a step, Wyll, spoke, his voice filled with determination. "We are coming with you."
Zeus turned to look at his companions, each one of them meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. They had faced countless dangers together, and this would be no different. He nodded once more, acknowledging their shared resolve, and then turned to follow Halsin.
They hadn’t gone far when they were stopped by the sound of a heated argument. Two dark gnomes stood near the entrance, their voices rising in frustration. Zeus recognized one of them immediately—Barcus, the gnome he had saved not once, but twice, first from the goblins who had tied him to the mill, and later from the perilous depths of Grymforge. The other gnome, whom Zeus had freed from the Towers' prison, It was clear from their tense exchange that their reunion was anything but joyful.
"Why would you do a thing like that? Really, Barcus!" The gnome exclaimed, shaking his head in exasperation.
A nervous chuckle escaped Barcus’s lips, masking the pain that lay beneath. "Unfortunately for me, you're my friend. Rescuing you from mortal peril is my right." He tried to sound proud, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his true feelings.
The gnome face twisted into a rictus of anger, but it softened just as quickly. "But you didn’t rescue me, did you? I rescued myself, with the aid of this..." His gaze shifted to Zeus, and his tone became begrudgingly appreciative. "Helper."
"Thank you very much for your help finding Wulbren!" Barcus added, his voice filled with gratitude that couldn’t quite hide the hurt in his eyes.
"You don’t belong here, Barcus," Wulbren said coldly. "As soon as the way is clear, pack up and head to Baldur’s Gate."
"But—Wulbren—the runepowder! We need to discuss what you’re going to—" Barcus began, his voice rising with concern.
Wulbren cut him off, his voice sharp with finality. "I said go!" he shouted, his anger exploding like a dam bursting under pressure.
Barcus flinched at his friend’s harsh words, his eyes shimmering with unspoken pain. Zeus watched the exchange, his heart heavy with empathy. Barcus had risked everything to find his friend, and now, to be dismissed so callously...
"You don't know what Barcus has gone through to find you," Zeus said, his voice grave and resonant, cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Please, that isn't necessary," Barcus said quickly, trying to brush off the kindness, though his voice wavered.
"Indeed," Wulbren replied, his tone dismissive. "Neither of you has any clue what’s at stake—and why should you? It’s Ironhand Gnome business. If you'll excuse me, I have a great deal to do." With that, Wulbren turned on his heel and walked out of the inn, leaving Barcus standing there, crushed.
"Well!" Barcus said, forcing a smile that barely masked his deep sadness. The smile faltered and then dropped completely. "There we have it. Wulbren is safe, and it’s thanks to you. I owe you a great deal. The Brilliant Retort, for starters. Here you are." He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, intricately crafted bomb, handing it to Zeus.
Zeus took the bomb, turning it over in his hand. The craftsmanship was exquisite—a deadly weapon.
"I give you: The Brilliant Retort!" Barcus repeated, trying to muster some of his earlier pride. "Now, I believe our business is well and truly concluded."
"You don't owe me, Barcus," Zeus said honestly, his voice soft but firm. "If anything, Wulbren does."
Barcus let out a bitter laugh. "One and the same."
Zeus shook his head. "You really care about him, don’t you?"
Barcus looked down, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his emotions. "Well, once you’re used to someone, you’re... used to them."
Zeus nodded, understanding the depth of Barcus's loyalty. "What will you do now? Hopefully, we won’t meet for a third time."
A small, melancholic smile appeared on Barcus’s lips. "Well, perhaps Wulbren is right. Perhaps I ought to return to Baldur’s Gate."
"That’ll have to wait," Zeus cautioned. "It’s lethal out there—at least for now."
Barcus nodded, resigned. "Then I will wait. Well!" He paused, his cheerful facade cracking for just a moment. "I'll just... stand over there. In case Wulbren needs anything." He gestured to a corner of the room where various alchemical equipment was laid out on a table, and then walked over, his steps heavy with unspoken sorrow.
The party watched in silence as the gnome made his way to the table, his small figure dwarfed by the weight of his unrequited loyalty. Zeus’s gaze followed him for a moment longer before turning to Halsin, who was waiting at the entrance, a small, understanding smile on his face. The druid waved for the party to follow, his eyes filled with both determination and sympathy.
As they prepared to leave, Karlach, asked, "Should we ask Lae'zel to come with us too?"
The group’s gaze shifted to Lae’zel, who was crouched on the floor, her usually stern face softened by a , bright smile. She was playing with the toddler, a stick in the child’s hands as Lae’zel patiently explained how to swing it like a sword. The child giggled, the sound of innocent joy filling the room, and for a moment, the harsh warrior looked like nothing more than a doting mother.
Karlach watched the scene for a moment, her earlier words fading into insignificance. "Forget what I said," she murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she turned to follow the others.