Midnight was on her knees, recovering from the shock of her spellcasting, when Adon appeared beside her. The courtyard of Castle Kilgrave displayed no vestige of the battle that had taken place in its confines.
"It's gone," Adon said. "Sune's kingdom is gone, as if it never truly existed."
Midnight looked up at him. When she spoke, it was in a comforting tone. "I'm sure it exists somewhere, Adon. When the time comes, you will find your way there."
Adon nodded, then he and Cyric helped Midnight to her feet. A few yards away, Kelemvor coughed twice and slowly came around. "What happened?" Kelemvor said, holding his wounded shoulder.
"Something was playing games with our minds," Midnight said. "It tried to control us, set us against one another. I tried a simple dispel magic incantation and — "
"You caused that explosion?" Kelemvor said, sitting up abruptly.
"You shouldn't move," Adon said, and attempted to force the man to lay back. His efforts were futile.
"Damn it, Adon. We lost a day at the colonnade because I was flat on my back. Just leave me alone; I'll be fine!"
"Let him go, Adon," Midnight said, smiling at the fighter. "Yes, Kel, I caused the explosion — or my magic did, anyway. I gathered from what was happening to us that someone was casting a powerful illusion on all of us. I tried to dispel it, but the spell caused some kind of backlash. It seems to have stopped whoever was throwing the spell."
"The voice of Bane," Cyric said, laughing. "Probably just some madman with delusions of godhood."
"Then I suggest we find him," Kelemvor said as he looked around. "He's got to be the one who has Caitlan's mistress captive."
"I thought you'd given up on finding her," Cyric said.
Kelemvor smiled and looked at Midnight. "I had. But I think the reward I'll get for concluding the quest will be worth toughing it out." The fighter looked at the bloody rags over his shoulder and wondered if he would be able to wield his sword with only one arm. He was able to make a loose fist with his right hand, although the process caused sparks of pain to erupt before his eyes.
Cyric simply shook his head as he went to the courtyard's entrance and looked out into the hallway. There was no sign of movement. The corridors looked much the same as they had when Cyric first examined the castle.
"We should find Caitlan's mistress and escape while we can," Cyric said as he went back into the courtyard. Kelemvor nodded in agreement, and soon the adventurers were in the hallway.
"Now what?" Kelemvor said. "Search the castle again, floor by floor?"
Midnight turned and froze, her mouth open wide.
"I don't think we'll have to," Cyric said. "Look!"
Kelemvor looked over his shoulder and saw a horrible, blood-red mass barreling down the corridor at them — the hakeashar. From the mist that composed the creature's form, Kelemvor saw hundreds of ten-fingered hands reaching out, clawing at the air. Disembodied yellow eyes broke from the mist, anxious to study the prey before it.
Kelemvor's shoulders slumped. "I've had about enough of this for one day," he said as he drew his sword with his one good hand. His movements weren't graceful, but he hoped the stance would be impressive enough to frighten the huge creature.
The creature let out a roar that sent a burrowing pain through the heroes' skulls. The creature had grown large, gaping mouths that seemed to grow larger as it approached. Cyric grabbed Midnight's arm and they ran down the hall, away from the hakeashar.
"Perhaps you could stand a little more?" Adon said, imploringly, as he backed away, then ran.
The creature let out another roar.
"Perhaps," Kelemvor said as he broke his stance and ran, the swirling mist biting at his heels as he attempted to catch up to the others.
The heroes kept well ahead of the mist creature for a few moments, but they soon tired. By the time they'd reached the turret located two hundred yards from the courtyard, the hakeashar was in close pursuit. In the turret, the stairs leading to the upper levels of the castle were filled with debris, so the heroes followed the stairs down, Adon in the lead. In the darkness of the subterranean corridors, the hakeashar appeared as a burst of light as it exited the turret.
Midnight realized that the corridor ahead of them was blocked by rubble at the same moment the hakeashar caught up with the adventurers. Turning to face the creature, she shouted for her fellows to move out of the way. She was already casting a spell as the creature filled the width of the corridor and stopped, its eyes blinking wildly as Kelemvor held up his sword and Cyric put on his cloak of displacement.
Suddenly a gust of wind surged through the corridor, originating at Midnight's fingertips. The wind cut through the creature, holding it at bay for a moment. Abruptly the wind died away.
The hakeashar slowly moved forward, the incredible power it had sensed in Midnight's pendant drawing it's attention.
Cyric walked forward, his cloak of displacement creating a dozen phantom images of him. The many eyes of the hakeashar fixated on the images created by the cloak as they wildly crossed one another to alter their vantages of the illusion.
"Besides managing to confuse this thing, what good have we done?" Kelemvor whispered to Midnight. The magic-user stepped away from the fighter just as the hands of the creature shot forward and grabbed the cloak from Cyric. The images disappeared as the cloak was devoured by the hakeashar.
A dozen new eyes and mouths opened as the creature grew larger.
"What are you waiting for?" Kelemvor said. "Cast your spell!"
The hakeashar giggled, memories of feeding from the magic of the goddess flooding into its mind.
Midnight stopped, and turned to face the fighter. "Kel."
The hakeashar was drifting closer.
"Hack it to pieces," Midnight said.
Kelemvor tightened his grip on the sword with his one good arm.
The hakeashar stopped.
Over a hundred images of the hairy human moving forward, sword in hand, registered in the hakeashar's brain. The beast was filled with an odd sense of curiosity. It moved five of its jaws over the human, clamped down, and was surprised that it did not receive any sustenance from the effort. The human began to laugh and a lancing pain cut through the creature as six of its eyes were shut forever in one mighty sweep of the human's sword.
The roars of the hakeashar echoed through Castle Kilgrave as the Black Lord knelt in the still water of his ruined scrying pool. Bane had summoned the creature and turned it loose in the castle to search for Mystra.
A small stone struck the puddle of water before Bane's face, causing the fallen god to look up.
A young girl he had never seen before stood in the doorway. She was smiling from ear to ear. A handful of stones that she had dislodged from the crumbling wall beside her rested comfortably in her hand.
"It's not pleasant, having your power turned against you, is it?" she said simply, and the voice was horribly familiar.
"Mystra!" Bane shouted, and lunged at the goddess-made-flesh. Mystra threw the handful of stones at the Black Lord, her voice rising as she began to cast a spell. The stones changed in midflight, becoming blue-white missiles that pierced the body of the Black Lord, sending him sprawling back to the floor of the dungeon.
Another roar sounded from the hallway, this one greater than the last. Mystra shuddered as she heard the sounds of the hakeashar, and Bane used the distraction to cast a spell himself. He tore a ruby from his gauntlet. Then the stone vanished and a blood-red shaft of light surged toward the Goddess of Magic.
Bane gasped as Mystra harmlessly absorbed the effects of Nezram's Ruby Ray, a spell that should have separated the goddess from her avatar. Then Bane shuddered as a red beam of light shot back at him and pierced his chest. The beam hung in the air between Mystra and Bane like a rope.
"You were foolish to try a complicated spell," Mystra said. "The magical chaos seems to have finally caught up to you." With that, Mystra grabbed the beam with both hands.
Bane felt a horrible twisting inside. The red beam glowed brightly and a pulse of energy shot from his body to Mystra. The spell had misfired and was allowing Mystra to drain off his power.
Bane struggled to retain his senses as crimson bands grew from the beam and surrounded him, tugging at his flesh as if to tear it from his bones. He felt his ribs crack, one by one, as the force of the attack suddenly reversed itself, and threatened to crush the life from him. Mystra released the beam and it shot back at Bane.
The Black Lord's chest burst open and a flood of bluish white fires exploded from him and engulfed Mystra, who held her hands out to the flow of magic and welcomed it into her. The fires changed, becoming a blazing amber, then a bright, glowing red as Bane felt the last of the energies he had taken from Mystra leave him and the first of his own depart as well.
"You imprisoned the Goddess of Magic, you fool! Now you will pay in kind for what you did to me."
Bane cried out as more of his energy left him. "Mystra! I'm — "
"Dying?" she said. "Aye, it would appear so. Do give my regards to Lord Myrkul. I don't believe he's ever had a god as one of his charges before. But you're not a god anymore, are you, Bane?"
Bane raised his hands imploringly.
"All right. Bane, I'll give you one chance to save yourself. Tell me where the Tablets of Fate are hidden, and I'll show you mercy."
"You want them for yourself?" Bane gasped as another pulse of energy left him.
"No," Mystra said. "I want to return the tablets to Lord Ao and end the madness you've caused."
There was movement in the corridor, and Mystra turned to see Kelemvor and his companions standing in the doorway.
Suddenly a spiralling black vortex appeared before the Black Lord and Tempus Blackthorne stepped from the rift his magic had created. Grasping the body of his wounded master, Blackthorne dragged Bane back into the vortex. Before Mystra could move to strike down the Black Lord and his emissary, they vanished. Mystra's spell was broken as the vortex closed, and a blast of chaotic energy threw the goddess against the wall. When she looked up, she found Kelemvor standing above her.
The fighter seemed pale. "I knew you were made of stern stuff, little one, but even I am impressed."
Mystra smiled as she felt the wild flow of power course through her.
"Caitlan," Midnight said. "Are you alright?" The magic-user leaned toward the avatar, and the star pendant flashed into view.
"The pendant. Give it to me!" Mystra cried.
Midnight stood back. "Caitlan?"
Mystra looked at Midnight once more and realized that the pendant had grafted itself to the magic-user's skin to protect itself — keep itself from being taken from her if she were asleep or injured.
"We should get the child outside," Midnight said.
"Wait a minute," Cyric said. "I want to know how she got out of camp that night, and why she left."
"Please," Adon said calmly. "We should be worried about the poor girl's mistress."
A sudden anger passed through the goddess. "I am Mystra, Goddess of Magic! The creature I fought was Bane, God of Strife. Now give me that pendant! It's mine!"
Midnight and Adon stared at the avatar in shock. Kelemvor frowned. Cyric eyed Mystra suspiciously.
Kelemvor folded his arms. "Perhaps the battle has addled her young brains."
"Caitlan Moonsong and I have become one," Mystra said calmly. I brought her to this place and merged our souls to save us both from Lord Bane. You aided her on her journey, so you have earned our thanks."
"And a damn shade more," Kelemvor said.
"The debt will be repaid," Mystra said, and Kelemvor remembered the words of Caitlan on her sickbed.
She can cure you.
Mystra turned to Midnight. "On Calanter's Way, you entered into a pact with me. I saved your life from those who wished you harm. In return, you promised to keep safe my trust. You have done so admirably." Mystra reached out with her hand. "But now it is time to return that trust."
Midnight looked down and was shocked as she realized that the pendant hung away from her flesh. She took the pendant from around her neck and gave it to the girl, who instantly blazed with a ferocious blue-white fire.
Hanging back her head, the goddess indulged in a moment of absolute rapture as a portion of the power she had wielded in the Planes coursed through her body. As it had been before the time of Arrival, Mystra's will was again enough to bring magic into existence, and though she was still considerably weaker than she was before Ao cast her out of the heavens, Mystra was again linked to the weave of magic that surrounded Faerun. The feeling was glorious.
"Let us put some distance between ourselves and this place," Mystra said as she addressed her rescuers. "Then I will tell you all you wish to know."
Moments later, the heroes felt the warmth of sunlight as they approached the gate of Castle Kilgrave, and they were blinded for a moment as they left the dark ruins. They walked from the castle with a leaden quality to their step, as if daring the castle to throw one last barrage of madness their way. But the castle was bleak and lifeless.
Mystra looked at the sky. She could see the sparkling Celestial Stairway as it rose toward the heavens, its aspects frequently changing. At times the goddess had a vague impression of a figure standing at the top of the stairway, but then it was gone, the image losing consistency after the briefest of instants.
The adventurers followed Mystra as she made her way toward a spot no more than five hundred feet from the entrance to the castle. Along the way, a heated argument had broken out.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Kelemvor shouted.
"I believe her," Midnight said.
"Aye, you believe her. But can your 'goddess' prove her wild claims?"
Mystra commanded the party to wait for her as she turned toward the stairway. Kelemvor stormed forward, ranting about the riches they had been promised and the goddess stared at the man, her eyes blazing with a blue-white fire.
"You have the gratitude of a goddess," Mystra said coldly. "What more could you want?"
Kelemvor remembered his encounter with the goddess Tymora, after paying admission to gaze upon her.
"I'll settle for a decent meal, clothes on my back, and enough gold to buy my own kingdom!" Kelemvor shouted. "I'd also like to be able to use my arm again!"
Suddenly Mystra cocked her head to one side. "Is that all? I assumed you wished to be made into deities."
Cyric's eyes narrowed. "Is such a thing possible?"
Mystra smiled and glowing fireballs leaped from her hands. Kelemvor almost screamed as the crackling energy of the first fireball engulfed him from head to toe, and suddenly he felt a vitality he hadn't felt in days. The flames died away and Kelemvor lifted his arm, staring at his healed limb incredulously.
The second fireball struck the ground, bringing into existence two regal mounts to replace the ones that had been lost, and two packhorses carrying restocked supplies and a fortune in gold and precious stones. Then the goddess turned and walked to the stairway. She opened her hands, spread her arms, and lowered her head, as if in meditation.
Kelemvor stood beside Midnight, and soon their argument resumed. Cyric watched without interfering, and Adon stood, silently watching the goddess before him.
"Certainly she is powerful, and her tale of bonding with her mistress may well be true," Kelemvor said.
"Then why do you deny your senses? Don't you appreciate Mystra's gifts of gratitude?" Midnight said.
"They were well earned!" Kelemvor said as he stuffed a large chunk of sweetbread in his mouth. "But a powerful mage, such as Elminster of Shadowdale, could easily perform the same feats. I have seen another of these 'gods' and I'm not sure they aren't powerful lunatics!"
Mystra looked up at the mention of Elminster, and a smile played across her face as some private reverie amused her for a moment, then she returned to her preparations.
"And so you blaspheme in their presence!" Midnight shouted.
"I speak my mind!"
"I believe her!" Midnight screamed as she poked at Kelemvor's armored chest. "You might never have regained full use of your arm if not for Mystra!"
Kelemvor seemed shaken. He thought of his father, retired from adventuring because of his wounds, prowling Lyonsbane Keep, making young Kelemvor's life a living hell.
"You're right," Kelemvor said. "I should be grateful. But… Caitlan, a god? You must admit, it stretches the imagination."
Midnight looked back to Mystra. The goddess, cloaked in the form of the girl they had traveled with the previous day, was not an impressive sight.
"Yes," Midnight said. "But I know it's true."
Behind Midnight and Kelemvor, unnoticed, Adon listened to their words, then turned away.
We have fought a god, he thought. And now we serve one, although the others haven't fully accepted it yet. Even as he experienced this revelation, Adon wondered why he was not filled with excitement and reverence. These were the gods themselves that walked the Realms!
Adon looked at the scrawny child kneeling in the dirt and felt a mild discomfort at the sight. Then he recalled the brief glimpse he had had of the abomination Mystra had identified as Bane, the Black Lord.
These are the gods themselves?
Across from the waiting adventurers, Mystra rose to her feet. She stood before the stairway, preparing herself for ascension. A slight smile inched its way across her avatar's face, and she realized the importance of this moment as she turned to address her rescuers.
"Before you, invisible to your human senses, is a Celestial Stairway," Mystra said. "The stairway is a means of traveling between the kingdoms of the gods and the humans. I am about to undertake a dangerous task. If I succeed, the four of you will be my witnesses as I return to the Planes. If I fail, at least one of you must carry my words to the world. This is a sacred task that I may only charge to one whose faith is unquestioning."
Midnight stepped forward. "Anything," Midnight said. "Tell me what must be done!"
Kelemvor shook his head and stood beside Midnight as he spoke to her. "Haven't we done enough? We have risked our lives to save your goddess. Let's quit while we're ahead. There's an entire world to explore and a thousand ways to spend our reward. We should leave."
"I'm staying," Midnight said.
Adon stepped forward. "I stand with Midnight."
Kelemvor looked to Cyric, who merely shrugged. "My curiosity roots me to the spot," Cyric said in a half mocking tone.
Kelemvor gave up. "What is it you have to say, goddess?"
"The Realms are in chaos," Mystra said.
"That much we know."
"Kel!" Midnight said.
"But do you know why?" Mystra said sternly. Kelemvor was silent.
Mystra continued. "There is a power greater than even the gods. This force, which humans are not meant to know about, has cast the gods out of the heavens. Lord Helm, God of Guardians, blocks the gateway to the Planes, keeping us in the Realms. While we are here, we must take human hosts, avatars, or else we are little more than wandering spirits.
"We are paying the penalty for the crimes of two of our number. Lord Bane and Lord Myrkul stole the Tablets of Fate. At least one of these tablets has been hidden in the Realms, although I do not know where. We have been charged with the duty of finding these tablets and returning them to their rightful place in the heavens."
Cyric seemed confused. "But you don't have the tablets," he said. "What do you intend to do?"
"Barter the identities of the thieves for leniency toward those gods who are innocent of this crime," Mystra said.
Kelemvor folded his arms over his chest and laughed as he leaned against his horse. "This is absurd. She's making all this up as she goes along."
Suddenly Mystra's words bore into the privacy of the fighter's mind.
I could have cured you, she said. Since you do not believe me, I will not.
Kelemvor's laughter stopped and his flesh became pale.
"Goddess! I would accompany you!" Midnight said, and Kelemvor looked to the magic-user in alarm.
Mystra weighed the offer carefully. A human witnessing sights only a god could comprehend? The woman would be driven mad. Caitlan's mind would be protected, but there was nothing she could do to protect Midnight.
"Only gods may follow," Mystra said. The power that had been secreted in the pendant, along with the stolen energies Mystra had taken from Lord Bane, coiled within her, as if waiting for release. Then Mystra felt the wellspring of magic within her threaten to overflow. There was a moment of purely human panic for the goddess as she lost control of the forces within her. Gently swaying grass crackled as blue-white fires enveloped every blade.
Cyric felt a pleasant warmth beneath his feet. The air was charged with blue-white sparks, and the winds became visible as great glowing streaks of light, delivered with the passionate brush strokes of a mad genius, seared the air, then faded away.
For just an instant, the stairway became visible to Midnight, and she saw that it was a stairway in name only. An endless amount of delicate white hands lay palm up, some standing alone, others in strange clusters where their flesh seemed to have merged. They rose and fell in irregular patterns and their steely fingers constantly flicked back and forth, anxious to receive their next guest. A network of crystalline bones attached the clusters of hands. Oddly, the stumps of the disembodied hands could never be seen. Soft, flowing mist floated down from cluster to cluster.
Then the stairway was gone and Midnight returned her attentions to Mystra.
Caitlan's form was becoming less distinct, and as it shimmered, the heroes saw the child transformed into the woman she had been destined to become. Her body was lush and beautiful, her face delicate and sensual, but her eyes were very old, revealing a millennium of private concerns.
The goddess was shaken as she turned from the heroes and moved away. She seemed to be walking up into the air, and wherever the goddess's feet touched, tiny bolts of bluish white lightning were loosed.
Mystra saw that her perceptions of the stairway and of the gateway to the Planes were constantly shifting. One moment she saw a beautiful cathedral carved from the clouds, with a broad, ornate stair leading up to it. The next moment the area surrounding the gateway seemed to be made of vast, living runes that danced an unknowable dance as they changed positions with their fellows to spell out secrets of the art Mystra had long pondered and never discovered, until now.
Only the gate itself remained constant: it was a large steel door, forged in the image of a giant fist, the symbol of Helm.
Halfway up the stairs, the clouds parted and the God of Guardians materialized before Mystra.
"Well met, Lord Helm," Mystra said cordially.
Helm simply watched Mystra. "Go back, goddess. This way is not for you."
"I would return to my home," Mystra said, angered by the guardian.
"Do you bring the Tablets of Fate?"
Mystra smiled. "I bring word of the tablets. I know who stole them, and why."
"That is not enough. You must turn back. The Planes are no longer ours."
Mystra seemed confused. "But Lord Ao would wish to have this information."
Helm was unmoving. "Give it to me, and I will pass it along."
"I must deliver this information personally."
"I cannot allow that," Helm said. "Turn back before it is too late."
Mystra continued to climb the Celestial Stairway, the primal forces of magic gathering tightly around Faerun as she willed them to be ready for her call.
"I have no desire to harm you, good Helm. Stand away."
"It is my duty to stop you," Helm said. "I was lax in my duties once. Never again."
Helm descended further.
"Stand away," Mystra said, her voice as loud as a thunderclap.
Helm stood his ground. "Do not force me to harm you, Mystra. I am still a god. You are not."
Mystra froze. "Not a god, you say? I will prove you wrong!"
Helm lowered his eyes, then looked back to her. "So be it."
Mystra called upon all the energy she had gathered as she advanced upon the God of Guardians. She shuddered with power as she prepared her first spell.
On the ground below, Midnight watched as the gods moved toward one another. Helm reached out even as Mystra loosed bolts of fire against him. Helm recoiled from the magic and gritted his teeth as the tiny white fires seared his skin. The guardian swung a fist in Mystra's direction and the goddess moved back to avoid the blow, nearly falling from the stairway in the process.
Helm advanced forward. He was not armed in any way, yet flames seemed to leap from his hands as he moved toward the goddess. Mystra knew instinctively that she must not allow his hands to touch her. She moved back, and primal magic cleaved the air around the guardian. Mystra attempted to summon Bigby's Crushing Hand, but the spell went awry and a countless number of razor-sharp claws sailed toward Helm. The guardian shrugged them off without effort.
Helm's hand came down in an arc, and Mystra fell an incredible pain pierce the core of her being as his fingers ripped across her chest. A spray of blood reached into the air, painting tiny flickering sparks of magic a deep crimson and forcing them out of existence.
Mystra felt her blood turn cold as Helm's hand grazed her shoulder. In retaliation, the Goddess of Magic released a spell meant to attack Helm's psyche, exploiting his fears and forcing him to bow before her as he quaked in terror. The guardian gritted his teeth and struck again, ignoring Mystra's attack. The guardian's greatest fear had been to fail Ao. As he had already confronted this fear, there was nothing left to frighten him.
Mystra realized she had lost even as Helm's hand moved across her midsection, opening a gash in her flesh that released a torrent of bluish white fires along with a splatter of blood. Then the goddess felt a cold breeze beside her neck as Helm came within inches of taking her throat.
Cyric stood and watched as the gods attempted to slay one another, fascinated by the spectacle. He felt a rush of excitement every time Helm delivered a blow. The sight of a god's blood falling from the sky filled him with an inexplicable bliss.
Mystra avoided another of Helm's thrusts and delivered an advanced spell of binding, causing shackles formed from primal magic to descend on the guardian. Helm shrugged them off without effort, but Mystra used the momentary distraction to stumble past the guardian. It was difficult to concentrate beyond the incredible agonies her body had endured, but she clawed her way up the stairway, her mind reeling as the gateway rose up before her and the true majesty of the Planes presented itself. For an instant, the goddess caught a glimpse of the beauty and perfection of her home in Nirvana.
All this was mine, Mystra thought. She reached the summit, her legs trembling beneath her. Then the Goddess of Magic grabbed for the gate, and a hand grasped her arm, spinning her around. There was a look of sadness in Helm's eyes.
"Farewell, goddess," Helm said.
Then he drove his hand through her chest.
Midnight looked at the sky and wondered if she was going mad. Kelemvor was beside her, barking commands at Adon to help Cyric with the horses and their supplies.
Midnight had watched as Helm had been stunned for a moment, and Mystra crawled up past him, then rose to her feet. The goddess spread her arms wide, and the chaos of the arcane bolts of magic and the nebulous forms the elements of the air had been molded into suddenly revealed a gateway in the form of a huge fist. Then Helm was upon Mystra, turning her to face his wrath.
"No!" Midnight screamed, and both Kelemvor and Adon looked to the sky just in time to see Helm run Mystra through with his hand.
Mystra's head was thrown back in unknowable agony as her essence fled from her avatar and her fragile human flesh exploded. Midnight felt an intense heat rush toward her, as if a searing, invisible wall of energy was approaching. The bluish white fires that had set the grass ablaze with their gentle magics now became black flames that scoured the earth and left the soil barren in their wake. The devastation began in the area directly below the goddess, and branched out in every direction.
Midnight attempted to summon a wall of force to protect her comrades. Streaks of light began to swirl around the group of adventurers, and in moments they were surrounded by a prismatic sphere. Despite the whirlwind of colors that made up the walls of the protective globe, the adventurers were able to catch glimpses of the chaos that reigned around them.
The horizon seemed to blur and the earth and sky became one as huge black glass pillars formed from the air and rooted themselves to the ground in a wide circle around the adventurers and the Celestial Stairway, similar to the colonnade where they'd spent the night. The clouds turned black as the pillars rose up to greet them and beautiful gossamer beams of soft pastel-colored light broke from between the black clouds. The beams swept back and forth, searing the surface of the earth and creating fissures big enough to swallow a man.
Rivers of flaming blood filled the cracks in the ground, and the heat that radiated from the boiling rivers of blood was terrible. The black columns were shattered by the beams, and immense pieces of debris crashed to the ground as the beams lost their form and became wisps that sliced through the air, destroying all they touched.
Castle Kilgrave fell before the onslaught, its walls exploding like chalk. The massive towers at each corner collapsed inward and the walls connecting them sank into rubble.
In the sky, Helm stood at the apex of the disaster, his body a silhouette against the blinding light of the sun behind him. Midnight saw Helm bring down his hand once more, cleaving a swirling mass that hung in the air before him.
Was this Mystra's essence? Midnight wondered.
The bluish white fires that escaped Helm's hands wove themselves into an intricate design, similar to Midnight's vision of the magical weave in her illusion. Then a shaft of brilliant light erupted from the center of the weave and penetrated the protective sphere where Midnight and her companions huddled. Against the pure white tapestry of her perceptions. Midnight saw an even brighter light, in the shape of a woman, moving toward her.
"Goddess!" she cried.
I was wrong. Other gods may attempt what I have tried… The Realms may be destroyed. There is another Celestial Stairway in Shadowdale. If Bane lives, he will try to take control of it. You must go there, warn Elminster. Then find the Tablets of Fate and end this madness!
Suddenly an object fell from the sky and passed through the protective sphere. Midnight reached out, and the pendant fell directly into her grasp. Then the light from the weave seemed to pass through the magic-user, as if drawn by the blue-white pendant. Every nerve in Midnight's body rebelled as white-hot fires coursed through her and the last words of the goddess burned into her brain.
Take the pendant to Elminster… Elminster will help you.
"Help me?" Midnight cried. "Help me to do what!?"
An image of the Tablets of Fate burned itself into Midnight's memory. Formed from clay, the ancient tablets were less than two feet high, small enough to be carried and easily concealed from prying eyes. Runes were carved into them, reporting the names and duties of all the gods. Each rune sparkled with a blue-white glow.
The image of the tablets vanished as the shaft of light withdrew into the weave, taking Mystra's shimmering form with it.
"Goddess," Midnight whispered. "Don't leave me." There was no reply, but through the prismatic sphere, Midnight could see the magical weave disappear. Then the chaos stopped around them, and the heroes saw Helm stand before his gate, cross his arms, and disappear. It was as if he was never there at all.