In the celestial realm, where stars glistened like scattered diamonds on velvet skies, three divine figures gathered around a large, ornate table of ethereal light. Lathander, the Morninglord, sat with his arms crossed, his golden hair and warm radiance dimmed ever so slightly by his mild sulking. Across from him, Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden, sat with a serene smile on her face, while Selûne, the Moonmaiden, now looking much younger ,observed the two with quiet amusement.

"So... Alex," Lathander began, his voice tinged with an exaggerated sigh, "he was destined for greatness. A beacon of light, a champion of hope, my champion, might I add. And then, Eilistraee..." He turned to the goddess of dance and the moon, "you swoop in with your moonlight and steal him. Just like that."

Eilistraee chuckled softly, twirling a strand of silver hair around her finger. "Oh come now, Lathander. He wasn’t your champion. He simply wandered into my light at just the right time. Besides, he will look so good dancing under the moon. Can you blame me?"

Selûne raised an eyebrow, her silvery form shimmering in approval of Eilistraee’s bold move. "Honestly, Lathander, I think he made a fine choice. It’s not often one of your golden boys trades in the sunrise for the beauty of the night. Perhaps," she added, stifling a playful smirk, "you should have given him some dancing lessons."

Lathander’s eyes widened as if struck by the very suggestion. "Dancing lessons? He was supposed to be a warrior of the light, not some... moonlit dancer! He was prime hero material. Courage, strength, brooding looks—"

"Exactly." Eilistraee interjected, her grin widening. "The brooding look works better in the moonlight, you know. The whole mysterious warrior vibe? It’s very fitting. Besides, he can take a lot of divine energy from me. He’s flourishing under me!"

Lathander muttered something under his breath and waved his hand, summoning a golden goblet that shimmered with sunlight. He sipped, clearly pretending not to be bothered, but his radiant form flickered just a bit. "Fine, fine. But I’ve heard he’s got a lot going on with other goddess too. Something about Selûne here giving him a little... extra power?"

Selûne gave him an innocent, moonlit smile. "What can I say? He does seem to attract the attention of us celestial ladies. He’s strong, and I appreciate strength in my allies. Besides," she added, her eyes gleaming, "he has an eye for balance—something your fiery boys tend to overlook. And with Shar lurking in the shadows... well, we could all use someone like Alex."

Lathander groaned theatrically, slumping a little. "So now he’s balancing both of you? Moonlit goddess drama, I swear. I feel like I’ve lost out on something grand here."

Eilistraee leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, Lathander, don’t be so melodramatic. You still have your golden heroes. And hey, if you’re really so concerned, maybe you should’ve sent him a glowing sunrise, or a celestial envoy, or... I don’t know, an inspiring morning pep talk. "

Lathander shot her a playful glare. "I sent him plenty of sunrises. I gave him hope. But no, moonbeams and secretive dances were apparently much more enticing."

"Can’t argue with the allure of the night," Selûne quipped, winking. "There’s a reason mortals look to the stars when they dream. Light is wonderful, Lathander, but the night… the night is where mysteries unfold."

Eilistraee laughed and nodded, raising her hand as if making a toast. "To the night, then. And to Alex, who is doing wonderfully under my guidance."

Lathander grumbled, though there was a begrudging smile tugging at his lips. "Fine, fine. Just keep an eye on him, will you? The last thing we need is for him to get too entangled in Shar’s web. If he strays too far, I’ll send down a very intense sunrise to wake him up."

Eilistraee winked. "If he strays, I’ll just lure him back with a dance. After all, once you’ve danced under my moon, no sunrise can quite compare."

Lathander groaned again, though this time, there was genuine warmth in his voice. "I’ll never understand you night goddesses."

Selûne and Eilistraee shared a conspiratorial glance, their smiles radiant. "That’s because," Selûne said softly, "the night always keeps its secrets."

With that, the three gods sat in amiable silence for a moment.

Lathander leaned back in his celestial chair, letting out a long sigh that glowed with a faint shimmer. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop pouting about Alex. Besides, I’ve got my eyes on other heroes now. Speaking of which," he looked at Selûne, "your daughter’s has been freed."

Selûne’s expression softened, a mixture of pride and concern flickering in her silver eyes. "Aylin’s always been a force of her own. Bold, fierce, unwavering. I could hardly expect her to sit idle while evil festers. For more than one hundred years the poor girl suffered alone...and I couldn't save her. " Her gaze momentarily flickered, clouded with the weight of a mother’s worry. "But this fight with Ketheric Thorm... it will test her, even more than she realizes."

Eilistraee, tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the table. "Aylin’s strong, yes, but Ketheric is no ordinary foe. He’s aligned with Myrkul and I could feel the faint influence of Shar, and that brings... complications." She smirked a little, her voice teasing. "You have a way of making things complicated, don’t you, Selûne?"

Selûne shot her a look, though her lips quirked in a faint smile. "You’re one to talk, Eilistraee. But yes, Shar’s influence is woven deeply into this, as always." She frowned slightly, her voice lowering. "And that’s what worries me most. Ketheric’s hatred for Aylin runs deep—it’s personal. He sees her as the embodiment of everything he loathes about me. The pain he caused her, the torment..." She shook her head, silver strands glistening. "Aylin’s drive for vengeance could cloud her judgment."

Lathander nodded, his golden eyes darkening at the thought. "And vengeance is a dangerous thing. It can blind even the brightest of hearts. Ketheric knows this—he’ll use it against her if he can. But I’ll say this: she’s a warrior, your Aylin. She reminds me of some of my paladins, unwavering even in the darkest of hours." He smiled softly, the warmth returning to his features. "She carries your light well, Selûne."

Selûne sighed softly. "Yes, but light can be fragile when anger burns too hot. Aylin’s been through more than any child should bear. Balthazar's cruelty..." Her voice trailed off, and for a brief moment, the mother within her eclipsed the goddess. "She deserves peace, yet all she knows is war."

Eilistraee tilted her head, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulder. "Maybe this is where Alex comes in, hmm? Aylin isn’t alone in this fight, after all. He understands pain, perhaps better than anyone. They have more in common than either of them might like to admit."

Selûne nodded, her face brightening slightly. "Alex... He’s a beacon in his own right, isn’t he? His presence will temper Aylin’s rage. He knows what it means to carry the burden of expectations. They’ll be good for each other, I think. They’ll find balance in one another."

Lathander chuckled, shaking his head. "So now the man is balancing not only you two moon goddesses but also Aylin’s fiery spirit? Poor guy." He glanced at Selûne with a teasing grin. "But, in all seriousness, Aylin’s never been one to rely on others. She’s always been a solitary force, even among your ranks, Selûne."

Selûne’s expression softened. "She’s my daughter. Fiercely independent, just like her mother." She paused, her tone turning more resolute. "But even the strongest among us need allies. And in this fight, she’ll need more than just her strength."

Lathander took another sip from his glowing goblet and sighed. "It's going to be a bloodbath, isn’t it? Aylin, Alex, the Harper allies, Alex's friends with their strange mind powers , Ketheric’s forces... and don’t even get me started on the colony beneath. This is all coming to a head. Are we prepared for the aftermath of this fight? Because it won’t be pretty."

Selûne’s eyes shimmered with a distant glow. "No, it won’t. But it’s necessary. Ketheric’s hold on the Shadowlands has gone on long enough. If his connection to Myrkul isn’t severed, his influence will spread, corrupting everything in its path. And I cannot allow that. "

Eilistraee’s voice softened. "Nor can I... this fight isn’t just for Aylin or Alex. It’s for all those who still live in the shadows, hoping for a glimmer of light. We all have a stake in this battle."

Lathander leaned back, a wry smile on his face. "Look at us, rallying around a bunch of mortals. I’d almost say we’re taking this too seriously if it wasn’t so dire. Still..." His eyes flickered with a mischievous light. "I do hope Alex knows how to keep things interesting. If he’s going to pull off a victory, he better make it as spectacular as I’d expect from one of my chosen."

Eilistraee chuckled, raising her goblet in a mock toast. "Oh, he will. He’s in my care now, remember? And we know how to put on a show under the moon."

Selûne smiled, her heart brimming with a quiet but fierce resolve. "Then let us hope that when this fight comes, our champions rise to meet it—together."

_____________________

Alex and Aylin stood side by side before bridge that lead the Moonrise Towers. The towering structure, ominous and foreboding, stretched toward the sky like jagged claws, its shadow stretching out over the land despite the radiant glow of the full moon above them. The cold wind that swept across the stone bridge seemed to carry the weight of countless souls lost to the corruption within.

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Alex could feel the energy of the moonlight washing over him, strengthening him. It surged through his veins like liquid power, whispering promises of victory. He cast a glance at Aylin, who stood beside him, still in the tattered rags of her imprisonment. Her blond hair flowed in the wind, but her eyes—those piercing, luminous eyes—were fixed on the tower with a focus that was unshakable.

Suddenly, she dropped to one knee, pressing her fist against the cold stone road. She spoke, her voice raw with emotion, her words rising like a prayer.

“Our Lady of Silver, hear me!” Aylin’s voice rang out, strong and unyielding, though her words trembled with the weight of a century's worth of anguish. Alex felt the raw power of her emotions as if they were his own. The moonlight seemed to gather around her, and slowly, her form began to glow with a soft, silvery light. It wrapped around her like the tender embrace of the goddess she called upon.

The sword strapped to Alex’s back began to hum, a low, melodious song that resonated with Aylin’s prayer, filling the air with a harmony that sent chills down his spine.

“She Who Guides, the Moonmaiden Selûne—MOTHER OF THE SO-CALLED NIGHTSONG,” Aylin proclaimed, her voice rising in defiance as her fist struck the ground. The impact reverberated through the earth beneath them, a small crack forming where she knelt. “THE NIGHTSONG IS NO MORE!”

As the last word echoed through the night, the air around Aylin shimmered. She was lifted off the ground, her body enveloped in the radiant glow of a moonbeam that descended directly from the heavens. The light embraced her, coalescing into silver threads that wound around her form, forming a set of gleaming celestial armor. It was as if the moon itself was crafting her into a warrior of divine justice.

From above, a sword descended from the sky, gleaming with an ethereal light. Aylin’s eyes, now glowing with pure silver fire, locked onto it. She reached out with reverence, her fingers curling around its hilt with the ease of one who had wielded such a weapon for lifetimes. The blade ignited in silver flames, flickering and dancing like stars.

Her transformation complete, a pair of majestic white wings—glowing with divine light—unfurled from her back. They stretched out to their full span, casting an awe-inspiring silhouette against the night sky. Aylin descended gracefully back to the ground, landing beside Alex with the poise of a celestial champion.

"I am resplendent," she declared, her voice filled with newfound strength and purpose. She turned to Alex, her gaze intense, filled with gratitude and something deeper, something sacred. “You and your friends have done what I feared was impossible. You have freed me from a century of sorrow, and for that, I am forever grateful.”

Alex, acknowledging her words, nodded in solemn respect. He felt the weight of her gratitude, but also the immense responsibility they both carried. They were no longer just warriors—they were symbols, embodiments of divine purpose, and the fate of the realm now rested on their shoulders.

A small smile flickered across Aylin’s lips, a rare moment of lightness amidst the gravity of their mission. But it was brief, and her attention quickly returned to the towering fortress before them. She spread her wings wide, ready to take flight and confront the evil that had tormented her for so long.

Alex watched her, and as she prepared to soar, he felt his own body shift. His flesh and armor morphed and rippled, and from his back, two large, magnificent wings of pure white erupted. They unfurled, catching the moonlight, making him appear as radiant as the goddess he serves.

Aylin’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight, a flicker of astonishment passing over her usually composed features. But before she could fully process the transformation, Alex spoke, his voice calm yet resolute.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

Aylin’s expression hardened, her resolve steeling as she looked up at the tower where her tormentor awaited. The fiery silver light from her sword reflected in her determined gaze. “For more than a century,” she replied, her voice firm and unshaken.

Without another word, both of them launched into the sky, their wings propelling them upward. They cut through the night air like shooting stars, leaving behind the shadows of the past. Together, they ascended toward the top of Moonrise Towers, where Ketheric Thorm, the one who had brought so much suffering, awaited his reckoning.

_______

Bullet, the landshark, happily tunneled through the stone and soil with ease, his body a living drill, methodically carving a path toward the colony. Alex’s orders had been clear, and with the mind worm dealt with by Alex’s summoned hydras, there was little left to slow them down. Still, the memory of those beasts lingered in Bullet’s mind.

'Those creatures are terrifying,' Bullet thought, recalling the ruthless efficiency with which the hydras had torn through the mind worm’s flesh, leaving nothing but gore in their wake.

"We’re almost there," Bullet grunted, his voice echoing through the tunnel. He glanced back at Halsin, the tall elf who followed closely.

"Good job, Bullet," Halsin replied, his tone as warm as ever. Bullet liked Halsin—he was gentle, even amidst the chaos of war. The other older half-elf, Jaheira, though... she scared him a little. Too much intensity in those sharp eyes of hers.

"Be ready! We’re approaching the colony!" Jaheira’s voice, firm and commanding, filled the tunnel, cutting through the steady rhythm of Bullet’s digging.

Behind Jaheira, the rest of the party moved as one, ready for whatever horrors awaited them. Astarion, Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Ellyka, and even Alfira marched forward, their expressions grim but determined.

Astarion, sidled up to Lae’zel, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischievous intent. "So, Lae’zel," he began with a smirk, "how do you feel about all this from a githyanki perspective? Ready to gut a mind flayer?"

Lae’zel, her stoic demeanor as unshakable as ever, barely spared him a glance. "I can’t wait to plunge my blade into a ghaik’s skull," she said, her voice cold and focused, offering no further elaboration.

Astarion chuckled darkly, admiring the Hellfire Hand Crossbow he had taken from the orthon after being send to the Hells by Raphael. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement, imagining the bolts he’d fire into their enemies. "Does mind flayer flesh burn easily, I wonder?" he mused, running a hand over the crossbow's intricate design.

"They are covered in a thin layer of slime," Lae’zel said flatly, her eyes fixed ahead. "But that won’t stop them from burning."

A wicked grin spread across Astarion’s face, but his excitement was dose of a little as his mind drifted momentarily to the ritual symbols scarred into his back. "Good," he whispered to himself. "They’ll burn nicely, then."

But while Astarion’s thoughts were filled with the coming battle, not everyone shared his enthusiasm. A few steps away, Wyll walked in silence, his hand intertwined with Karlach’s. His face, usually filled with quiet resolve, looked beaten down by a weight he could hardly carry anymore.

"Hey, Wyll," Karlach said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It’s going to be alright. Once we free Mizora, you’ll be a free man, no more ties to the Hells."

Wyll sighed, his gaze distant. "I should be happy, but devils never give up so easily. Mizora won’t let me slip away without a fight."

Karlach growled, her fiery eyes narrowing. "If she tries anything, I’ll cut that bitch down myself."

Wyll chuckled, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You’re turning more and more into a dragon with each passing day, my dear. It won’t be long before you start hoarding gold and jewels."

"And I’ll put you right in the middle of it," Karlach teased, her voice filled with warmth. But even as she spoke, she couldn’t ignore the strange urge she’d been feeling lately—the desire to gather shiny, precious things, a dragon-like instinct she had yet to fully understand.

A few steps back, Ellyka, Lakkrisa, and Alfira walked together, their voices low and laden with emotion, each step heavier than the last. The air was thick with tension, and the looming threat of the battle ahead only made it harder to breathe.

"Love, you should have stayed behind," Lakkrisa said quietly, her fingers tightening around Alfira’s hand as if she could anchor her to safety by sheer will alone. There was a deep worry in her voice, a pleading tremor that she couldn't quite suppress. Her eyes searched Alfira's face, desperately looking for any sign that her lover might reconsider.

Alfira stopped walking for a moment, turning to face her. She met Lakkrisa’s gaze, her own eyes wide and filled with determination and little bit of fear. "I can’t stand back while everyone else risks their lives," she said confidently, her voice firm.. She let go of Lakkrisa's, as though she had to physically detach herself to go through with it.

Lakkrisa’s face softened, the fierce warrior’s mask slipping for a heartbeat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "But you—" her voice cracked, unable to finish. The rest of her words, heavy with unspoken fears, hung between them. But you’re still recovering. You’re not ready. You could die.

Alfira gave her a sad smile. "I know I’m not well, Lakkrisa," she said softly, "but that won’t stop me from helping. I have to do this."

Lakkrisa wanted to argue, to beg Alfira to stay, but how could she?

"Lakkrisa, is it just me, or have your horns grown bigger?" Ellyka teased with a mischievous grin, hoping to lighten the heavy mood that clung to their small group like a shadow.

Alfira chuckled, shaking her head as the tension eased, if only for a moment. Ellyka glanced at her friend, noticing the subtle changes that had taken root in the once-timid bard. 'Alfira’s changed'. Ellyka thought, watching her with quiet admiration. The shy girl who used to sing lullabies to the children on the streets had slowly transformed, shaped by the hardships they had all endured.

The girl who had once been too nervous to speak up was now standing taller, more sure of herself, her voice no longer trembling with fear. I guess almost dying in a cursed land has that effect on people, Ellyka mused, her eyes flicking to the others. But it wasn't just the darkness they had faced; it was the way Alfira had chosen to face it, growing stronger with every challenge. She wasn't the same quiet soul anymore.

Ellyka couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her friend, knowing how far Alfira had come, and how much further they still had to go.

Alfira chuckled, the tension in her shoulders loosening as Ellyka's playful remark broke through the weight of the moment. It was like a lifeline thrown into the darkness, pulling her out of the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "No, they haven’t!" she laughed, nudging Ellyka’s shoulder with a playful punch, the sound of her laughter a brief but bright spark in the heavy atmosphere.

The laughter died down quickly, though, swallowed by the grim reality of what awaited them. Alfira’s heart raced, her chest tight with the fear she tried to bury beneath her brave facade.

Lakkrisa, still standing close, couldn’t help but reach out one last time, brushing her fingers over Alfira’s cheek. "Just... promise me you’ll be careful," she whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost to the sounds of the wind howling through the tunnel.

Alfira smiled. "I promise," she responded firmly.

But their light-hearted banter was interrupted as they bumped into someone .

It was Isobel. She stood motionless, her gaze fixed upward, toward the ceiling of the tunnel, as if listening to something beyond this world. Her face was serene, but her eyes glowed with a quiet intensity.

"The fight is about to begin," Isobel said softly, her words carrying through the tunnel like a breeze. There was no mistaking the gravity in her tone.

Karlach clenched her fists, her voice a low growl. "I can’t wait for Alex to kill that piece of shit."

"Are you so sure he’ll win?" a Harper asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

"He will," Shadowheart said, her voice filled with an unshakable certainty. The truth was not just a belief to her—it was absolute.

Alfira’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, her voice barely a whisper, "Alex..."