In the misty realm where the ever-present moon waxed and waned, casting its silvery glow upon the tides, the vast hall of Argentil stood as a beacon of serene beauty. The hall, fashioned entirely of shining silver, was a place of ethereal quiet where every sound seemed to be gently hushed by the moonlight that caressed everything in its embrace. This soft, silvery light made every being and object within the hall glow with an otherworldly radiance.
In the heart of Argentil, two divine beings sat upon intricately decorated chairs, their forms both powerful and graceful. The first was a dusky-skinned woman, her beauty so perfect and exquisite it seemed almost unreal. Her long, ivory-hued hair cascaded down to her knees, and her wide, radiant lime-green eyes held the mysteries of the cosmos within them. Her silvery robes flowed around her like liquid moonlight, shimmering with every slight movement, reflecting the calm yet infinite depth of her being. This was Selûne, the Moonmaiden, goddess of the moon, a figure of tranquility and boundless love.
Beside her, in stark contrast, sat a giant of a man whose presence radiated the bright shine of the morning sun. His hair burned with a fiery orange-red, like the dawn breaking across the horizon. He appeared as a handsome young man, slender yet muscular, exuding vitality and optimism. His robes were a kaleidoscope of reds, pinks, and yellows, vibrant and full of life, and a red and golden sash was wrapped around his waist,. This was Lathander, the Morninglord, god of renewal and birth, whose mere presence filled the hall with warmth.
The usual quiet of the hall was shattered by laughter—rich, joyous, and filled with mirth. Lathander’s laughter echoed through the silvered walls, a sound so full of life it seemed to chase away the last remnants of the mist that lingered in the corners of the hall.
"I can already picture Shar biting her nails," Lathander chuckled, his voice filled with a sense of victory and amusement. The thought of the Mistress of Night, usually so composed, rattled by recent events, brought him immense satisfaction.
Selûne, however, did not share in his mirth. She remained calm, her expression thoughtful as she spoke softly, her voice like the soothing whisper of a breeze under a moonlit sky. "To absorb the Shadow Weave and not be corrupted by it..." she murmured, her words trailing off as her mind delved into deeper concerns.
Lathander, noticing her hesitation, leaned closer, his laughter fading but his bright smile remaining. "Come, Selûne, with our energies flowing within his body, there’s no way he’ll turn to the darkness. Besides, his soul was made whole by us," he reassured, his tone still brimming with the confidence of the dawn.
Selûne’s gaze remained distant, her thoughts not entirely at ease. "Perhaps you’re right," she conceded, her voice tinged with the weight of her endless eons of wisdom. "But let us not forget, we only gave him a little push. He would have been able to achieve this on his own, though it would have taken him longer. Even his soul reflects his capability... To reform as a whole from thousands of fragments..." Her words hung in the air, laden with awe and reverence. "I know deities who would not be able to perform such a feat, not even in a thousand years."
The gravity of her words settled between them, the hall returning to its usual silence, but this time it was not the serene quiet of before. It was a silence filled with the understanding of what had been set in motion, of the unimaginable potential now resting in the hands of a mortal creature who had defied all expectations.
Lathander’s smile softened, and he reached out, his hand gently resting on Selûne’s shoulder. "He is something more, Selûne. More than any of us could have foreseen. And perhaps, that is what gives me hope. "
Selûne looked into his eyes, her own gaze softening as she nodded. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet, enduring strength. "He is the dawn and the night, the light and the shadow, and with that, perhaps he can bring about a balance that even we could not."
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As Alex stood on the precipice of the Moonrise Towers, a sense of impending confrontation settled over him like a shroud. The battle with Ketheric Thorm was not far off, and he knew their next clash would be even more ferocious than the last. The power within him, pulsed with an eager hunger, ready to be unleashed.
His form began to shift, the fiery light that had once radiated through the plates of his armor fading into darkness. The vibrant glow was swallowed by a void deeper than the night itself. His armor darkened, turning as black as the purest void, with tendrils of smoke curling off his body like living shadows. A moment later, his entire being was consumed by his own shadow, and he vanished from sight.
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In an instant, Alex reappeared, stepping out of the shadow cast by a Harper near the island’s center. The silvery dome that had once protected the Last Light Inn was gone, leaving the land exposed to the world once more.
Branthos, yelped in surprise as he felt someone suddenly materialize beside him. His hand flew to his dagger, unsheathing it in a single fluid motion, ready to strike. But before he could react, a shadowy figure caught his wrist with a firm but gentle grip, halting the blade mid-air.
The absolute blackness of Alex’s armor began to dissipate, returning to its original form. The fiery light reignited, pulsating through the armor plates as if in sync with a powerful heartbeat.
“Zeus!? My gods… Now I understand how Jaheira feels every time you appear out of nowhere,” Branthos exclaimed, his voice shaky as he sheathed his dagger, still reeling from the sudden encounter.
Alex didn’t respond. His eyes scanned the courtyard, taking in the scene. His sudden appearance had caused a stir, with people pausing in their tasks to stare at him in a mix of awe and unease. They looked healthy and he couldn't spot any injured or smell blood . What caught his attention most was the little girl waving at him from across the courtyard, clutching the doll he had repaired for her in one small hand. Her innocence was a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed the land.
Alex raised a hand, offering her a small wave in return before heading back to the inn.
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Inside, the inn was alive with activity. Around a large table stood his companions—Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Ellyka, Alfira, Minthara, Halsin, Jaheira, Isobel, and Zevlor—engaged in a heated discussion about their next move. Lae’zel was nearby, her stern expression softened slightly as she played with a young githyanki boy, who seemed a bit taller since the last time Alex had seen him. Even Alex’s clone was there, sitting quietly at the table, feeding him the recent events through their shared consciousness.
They were talking about the logistics of evacuating the people Alex had saved, discussing supplies that were running low, and how to keep everyone safe now that the curse had been lifted.
As soon as Alex stepped inside, all eyes turned to him, the conversation halting abruptly. The room was heavy with anticipation.
Shadowheart stood abruptly, her eyes wide with shock as she gazed at him. “You?! YOU?! How can this be possible?” she stammered, rushing towards him but stopping just a few steps away. Her voice wasn’t filled with malice, just pure, unfiltered surprise.
“What do you mean?” Wyll asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Shadowheart didn’t take her eyes off Alex as she answered, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief . “He… he has been blessed by Shar. I can feel her essence, deeply woven into his body.”
From the corner of the room, a loud thud echoed as something heavy hit the floor. Everyone turned to see the shadar-kai, brushing dust from his clothes as he straightened up. His gaze was fixed on Alex—or rather, Zeus—as he tossed a ledger towards him, the one the shadar-kai had requested earlier.
The shadar-kai attempted to slip back into the shadows, but Alex’s dominion over shadow seem to be stronger than his., thwarting any attempt at escape. Realizing he was trapped, the shadar-kai turned and left the room on foot, the white crow that had been perched on the balcony above fluttering down to land on his shoulder. But not before the crow cast one last glance at Zeus.
Zeus lifted his hand, causing everyone to flinch slightly as he waved it through the air. A shimmering barrier sprang up around them, blocking any sound from escaping the room. The atmosphere grew tense as his companions exchanged uncertain glances.
“Now, I will explain what happened,” Zeus began, his voice steady, though the weight of the information he was about to share was heavy in the air. He recounted how he had removed the tadpoles from their heads and his encounter with the dream guardian .
"And I tough she was on our side . " Wyll said as he shock his head.
Karlach, her face twisting in discomfort, was the first to react. “What the fuck, Zeus… but I suppose it was necessary,” she admitted, though her tone betrayed her disgust at the idea of her brain being prodded by his tentacles.
“The end justifies the means,” Minthara said quietly from the side. Her voice was calm, but her hand clenched into a fist as a wave of anger surged through her, memories of her own torturous experience flashing in her mind—the sadistic sisters who had opened her skull, playing with her as if she were a mere toy. The rage threatened to consume her, but as her gaze landed on Zeus, it subsided. He had saved her from that torment, had given her the strength to fight back. For that, she could endure the lingering bitterness.
Zeus's gaze swept over them all, seeing the mixture of relief, horror, and gratitude in their eyes. They had all been through so much, and while the methods had been harsh, the results were undeniable.
Jaheira’s voice cut through the heavy atmosphere like a blade. "I take that massive magic-eating storm in the middle of town was your doing?" Her tone was laced with both accusation and curiosity as she looked at Zeus, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Zeus nodded in response, the movement slow and deliberate. Without a word, his chest began to open, the armor plates shifting aside like obedient soldiers revealing a sacred relic. There, nestled within, was the orb—a sphere of pure, pulsating energy. It radiated a power so intense that it seemed to warp the air around it, sending ripples of energy cascading outward.
"By Mystra's grace..." Gale murmured, his voice filled with awe and a hint of fear. He rushed to Zeus, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch the orb. But just as his fingertips hovered over the surface, he hesitated, sensing the enormity of the power contained within. "It's stable now… No, not just stable. It’s whole. Like a broken sword, reforged into something completely new."
The fiery light that had once danced between the plates of Zeus’s armor shifted, morphing into a light blue, almost ethereal glow. The transformation was as breathtaking as it was terrifying, the sheer arcane power emanating from Zeus palpable to all who stood nearby.
"So much arcane power…" Gale whispered, his voice trembling as he felt the immense energy surging through Zeus. The realization of just how powerful Zeus had become settled over him like a cold weight.
"So, he’s even stronger than before?" Astarion asked, his eyes flicking between the orb and the reactions of those around him. His usual flippant demeanor was absent, replaced by a genuine sense of unease.
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"Stronger would be an understatement." Gale confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued to stare at the orb, mesmerized by the raw power it contained.
Jaheira’s gaze remained fixed on the orb, her expression inscrutable. "What exactly is that?" she asked, her voice calm but with an underlying tension as she eyed the orb warily.
"It is a fragment of the Weave itself," Gale explained, the weight of those words hanging heavily in the air. There was a reverence in his tone, an understanding of the magnitude of what they were witnessing.
Jaheira remained silent, her expression unreadable as she processed this information. The silence was thick, the tension in the room almost suffocating.
Revelation after revelation.
Zeus finally spoke, his voice steady and calm as he explained how, when he had consumed the tadpole from Gale’s head, the orb had migrated into his body. He described his encounter with Karsus, their discussion, and why he had been forced to move them away so quickly—before he lost control of the orb’s power. The orb, he explained, had consumed all the Shadow Weave that had once covered this cursed place, leaving it barren of the corrupting darkness that had plagued it for so long.
Halsin, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his face grave. "Unfortunately, even with you consuming the Shadow Weave that covered this place, it wasn’t enough to completely cleanse it," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "The missing part of Thaniel is still lost. Without it, this place will revert back to how it was before, slowly succumbing to the darkness once again."
"But fortunately," Halsin continued, "I know where to find the missing piece of Thaniel. And I will need your assistance, Zeus. It may prove dangerous to retrieve the fragment alone." His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of urgency, a plea that Zeus could not ignore.
Zeus nodded slowly, his gaze steely with determination. "I’ll help you," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "We’ll retrieve the missing piece of Thaniel and ensure that this place is cleansed once and for all. But we must hurry—after that, we need to deal with Balthazar." He paused, his eyes scanning the faces of his companions. "Tomorrow, the army will march toward Baldur's Gate."
A ripple of shock passed through the room.
"Are you sure?" Zevlor asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Zeus nodded, the weight of what was coming heavy in his chest. He could see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
"What about the refugees?" Isobel’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "The supplies are empty, and now that the curse is lifted, the Absolute's army could just split and flatten this place. We have to protect them."
Zeus met her gaze, his expression resolute. "I already have a solution for this," he said just as a Harper burst into the inn, his face pale as a sheet.
"Jaheira, come to the dock, quickly!" the harper urged, breathless as she rush inside the inn.
Jaheira didn’t hesitate, rushing toward the door, with the others close behind. The urgency in the Harper's voice left no room for questions.
As they reached the docks, the sight that greeted them was both startling and awe-inspiring. Floating silently next to the dock was a jet-black nautiloid, its sleek, alien form floating above the water like a dark sentinel.
"Isn't that your ship?" Karlach asked, her voice tinged with disbelief as she stared at the vessel.
"Yes, it is," Zeus replied calmly. As they watched, the side of the nautiloid opened, revealing Glut, Lump, and Bullet standing inside.
"Did all the tieflings arrive safely?" Zevlor asked, his voice tight with concern.
Zeus nodded. "There was a small incident—an ox that turned out to be an ooze tried to eat some of the passengers. But the ship detected it as a threat and ejected it immediately."
Zevlor sighed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Thank you," he said quietly, gratitude evident in his tone. The knowledge that his people were safe, at least for now, brought him a brief moment of relief.
Jaheira, however, was already inspecting the ship with a scrutinizing gaze, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of the alien craft. She turned to Zeus, her expression a blend of curiosity and caution.
"The ship will transport the refugees down the river to a safe spot, from where they will head toward Baldur's Gate," Zeus explained, his voice steady. "They’ll be out of harm’s way, away from the coming battle."
Jaheira turned to the crowd that gathered around the dock, her voice cutting through the murmur of voices. "Everyone, prepare yourselves!" she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "I want all the refugees ready to leave immediately. There is no more time to waste."
As the reality of the situation set in, the dock began to fill with refugees, their faces a mix of fear, hope, and confusion. They gathered around, whispering among themselves as they stared at the strange ship that had emerged from the depths of the river.
Mothers gathered their children, and the elderly were helped by the younger, all moving with a renewed sense of purpose. The weight of the impending battle hung over them, but the sight of the ship—this unexpected lifeline—brought a glimmer of hope.
As the refugees began to board the nautiloid, Zeus watched . He knew this was the best chance they had, and he had to believe in the path he was setting them on.
Jaheira stepped beside him, her gaze softening as she watched the refugees file onto the ship. "You’ve given them hope, Zeus , despite having nothing left." she said quietly. "Hope they thought was lost."
Zeus didn’t respond immediately, his eyes following a mother as she guided her two young children up the ramp. He could see the fear in her eyes, but also the resolve. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "Hope is a fragile thing, Jaheira. But it’s also the strongest weapon we have."
He looked down at the little girl standing before him. She was tiny, her small frame barely able to meet his gaze, but there was a quiet strength in her stance, a resilience born of hardship. Behind her, Jaheira watched with a small, approving smile, sensing the depth of the moment.
Zeus, slowly kneeled to her level, his movements deliberate and gentle. The contrast between his imposing figure and the tender gesture made the scene all the more poignant. The little girl hesitated for a moment, then, with the innocence and trust only a child could have, threw her arms around him in a tight hug, his arms encircling her in return.
As she pulled away, ready to bolt back to her father, Zeus gently caught her hand, stopping her. “Wait,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that was rarely heard. He produced a simple amulet , the amulet he found in the owlbear nest. It was unadorned, a humble piece of jewelry. The back of the amulet bore an inscription under a delicate crescent moon—words of protection, a silent vow of safety.
“I have something for you,” Zeus continued, offering the amulet to her. The little girl’s eyes widened as she took it, cradling the gift in her small hands as though it were the most precious thing in the world. Without another word, she turned and ran back to the old man waiting for her , her steps light and quick, the amulet clutched tightly against her chest.
The old man, knelt beside her, helping to fasten the amulet around her neck. There was a moment of shared joy between them, a moment that, in the midst of all the darkness, felt like a glimpse of light. They both turned back towards Zeus, the little girl waving shyly before they hurried aboard the ship that would take them to safety.
Zeus stood and turned, his gaze now falling on a mountain of a man standing nearby. This was the same man who had once pleaded with him, desperate to allow the refugees to fight against the Absolute, to exact revenge for the horrors they had endured. The man’s face was weathered, etched with the lines of pain and suffering, but also with the resolve that comes from surviving against all odds.
“Thank you for saving our lives,” the man said, his voice thick with emotion. He glanced back at the last of the refugees boarding the ship, his expression softening. “Your words were true. These people… they need help. Someone needs to guide them.”
Zeus looked at the man, his eyes filled with a deep understanding. “You are their leader,” he said firmly, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Lead them well.”
The man’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of Zeus’s words settling over him like a mantle of responsibility. Without warning, he dropped to one knee, taking Zeus’s armored hand in his own and pressing his lips to the warm exoskeleton , a gesture of reverence and gratitude.
“May we have your blessing?” the man asked, his gaze lowered to the wooden planks of the deck, his voice barely above a whisper.
Zeus looked down at the man kneeling before him. This was not just a request for a blessing—it was a plea for hope, for the strength to carry on. The people he would lead needed more than just guidance; they needed the courage to face whatever lay ahead, to rebuild what had been lost.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Zeus placed his hand on the man’s head, a surge of warmth emanating from his touch, a silent prayer of protection and strength. “You have my blessing,” he said, his voice resonating with a deep, calm power. “May you lead with wisdom and courage, and may the path before you be filled with light.”
The man looked up, his eyes brimming with tears, not of sorrow but of a profound gratitude and renewed determination. He rose to his feet, his back straighter, his shoulders squared, as if the very act of receiving Zeus’s blessing had fortified him. With a final, respectful nod, he turned and boarded the ship, joining the last of the refugees as they prepared to sail towards a new beginning.
Zeus shifted to Jaheira , who was looking at him with a warm smile that faded away as her gaze shifted to the nautiloid.
The ship's shell began to close, the massive plates of its exterior sliding into place with a heavy, finality. The sight of it was almost ominous, as if the very essence of the ship was swallowing up the light that touched it.
Jaheira’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing as the nautiloid began its descent beneath the water’s surface. She watched as it slowly submerged, the once visible ship now becoming a shadowy silhouette beneath the waves. The water bubbled and churned as the ship disappeared into the depths, leaving only a trail of foam behind.
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Astarion, Shadowheart, Gale, Minthara, Wyll, Lae'zel, and Karlach sat in the dimly lit room of the inn, a flickering fire casting long shadows on the walls. They had gathered here at Zeus's request, all feeling a mix of curiosity and tension. This wasn't just another strategy meeting; there was something different in the air, an anticipation that hung heavy around them.
Karlach, ever the one to break the tension, leaned back in her chair and asked, “So, what’s the deal, boss?”
Zeus, standing at the head of the room, looked around at them, his gaze intense and focused. “First, how are you all feeling without the tadpoles?” His voice was calm, but there was an underlying concern, a need to know that they were truly free from outside influence.
“Better, now that I know I won’t turn into a mind flayer,” Gale responded, his tone lighter, but there was an undercurrent of relief in his words that couldn’t be ignored.
“Such a shame. Those powers could have been useful,” Astarion muttered, his voice tinged with disappointment. The loss of such potential power clearly bothered him, despite the dangers that came with it.
“Such a shame that you didn’t turn into a squid,” Shadowheart quipped from the side, her tone sharp.
Astarion shot back without missing a beat, “Such a shame the tadpole didn’t eat your brain.”
Before the banter could escalate, Zeus spoke up, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Astarion is right. Those powers could have been useful.”
The room fell silent, the usual banter dying in their throats as they processed Zeus’s words. Astarion, momentarily surprised, quickly recovered. “Am I? … Of course, I am,” he said, a proud smirk spreading across his face, clearly pleased that Zeus acknowledged his point.
Lae'zel, sitting stiffly in her chair, her face a mask of disdain, hissed, “I would rather die than use the power of a ghaik.” Her voice dripped with venom, the very idea of embracing anything related to the mind flayers revolting to her.
Zeus turned his gaze to her, his expression unreadable. “And that’s why I want to help you, Lae'zel. To open your minds so that you could wield those powers without needing the tadpole. To make them your own.”
Astarion, who had been casually twirling a dagger between his fingers, suddenly dropped it, his usual facade slipping for a moment as he realized the gravity of Zeus's words. This was more than just power—it was an opportunity, one that could change the course of their fate.
Gale ,leaned forward, his interest piqued. “That would be an interesting experience,” he mused, the gears in his mind already turning as he considered the possibilities.
Lae'zel, nodded slightly, her disdain for the ghaik momentarily overshadowed by her tactical mind. "This could prove useful in our battle against the Elder Brain,” she agreed, her tone still cautious but with a hint of reluctant curiosity.
Astarion’s smirk returned, his confidence restored. “Free power? I’m all in,” he said with a glint in his eye.
Wyll, who had been quiet until now, looked up, his expression determined. “If I can save more lives, I’m willing to try,” he said, his voice firm.
“Fuck it. Let’s do it,” Karlach said with an energetic grin, her enthusiasm infectious. She was never one to shy away from a challenge.
Minthara, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, her voice calm and resolute. “I am your blade, ready to be sharpened,” she said, her words carrying a weight of conviction.
Zeus nodded, satisfied with their responses. “The process is simple,” he explained. “I will enter each of your minds and help you unlock your latent psionic abilities. For some of you, it will be easier; for others, it could be harder, but I believe it’s not impossible.”
The group exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and apprehension flickering across their faces. This was uncharted territory but they also knew the stakes—they needed every advantage they could get in the coming battles.
Wyll, asked, “Should we ask Alex too?”
Before Zeus could respond, a voice spoke from the corner, low and firm. “I don’t want to.”
All eyes turned to the source. Alex stood there, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the door closing softly behind him.
The room was silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut. Zeus watched Alex go , watch himself go.
“Very well,” Zeus said, his voice steady. “Then we shall begin.”