The door into the catacombs under the library of Candlekeep felt particularly heavy now. It was always heavy for the small elven woman, but Laitae knew it was going to be the last time she'd go there. At least in many years. That carried extra weight. She stood a while in the doorway, her hand gripping the cold stone as she steadied herself. The catacombs were quiet and dark, with only a few flickering lights luminating the many tunnels ahead - though enough for her elven eyes to see fine.
"Miirym?"
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it echoed softly back to her from the cavern. She felt a bit surprised that her voice came out that way. She had intended to speak the spectral silver dragon's name more clearly, but perhaps she hadn't been quite as prepared for the emotions streaming into her as she stood there. She hadn't even managed to decide how to explain to Miirym that she'd be leaving and wouldn't return for many years, if at all. She peeked into the dimly lit catacombs, then shook her head lightly and stepped forward, down the small staircase. The Sentinel would have heard her anyways, she thought.
Waiting for the ghostly dragon, Laitae walked over to a certain spot. There was a circle on the floor, framed by ten piles of dust. Largely untouched for almost six years. Her right hand reached up to grasp her holy symbol, as if by instinct, and she stood there in silence staring at the circle for several moments. She recalled herself sitting in the middle of the circle, blinded by the Lady of Loss. By Shar herself. She let go of her holy symbol, lowering her hand again. As if steeling herself for a cold swim, she clenched her fists and stepped into the circle.
Nothing happened.
Laitae exhaled. Had she really expected something to happen? No, not here. She looked around and, seeing no ghostly dragon, she sat down in the middle of the circle, gazing idly at the dust piles. Yes. Shar had cursed her. But here, in this spot, Most Holy Mystra had cured her from that curse. The First Reader had asked her where she felt most safe, so that he could perform the ritual the Lady of Mysteries had revealed to him. It was here. Within the walls of Candlekeep and under the watch of her friend Miirym. So this is where it happened. This place was significant.
But now just a circle of dust piles. Laitae looked up, glancing about.
"Miirym?" She said, clearer this time. Her voice was confused. Where was the Sentinel?
Light suddenly flared just below her field of vision as she gazed into the caverns. A pale, silvery light. Laitae blinked and looked down at the pile of dust directly in front of her. It was burning! But the flame was silver. She gasped in surprise, and it took a few more moments before she realised all of the piles around her were aflame the same way. At once, the flames lept towards her, engulfing her - flowing into her! She gasped again, tried to scream.
A strange sensation of pain gripped her as the Silver Fire of Mystra streamed into her. Was she supposed to hold all of this? The pain was more intense than anything she had ever felt, but also felt with senses - or whatever was feeling it - she had never even used before. It threatened to burst her apart, rip her into billions of silver sparks and vanish into nothing. No! She willed herself to endure the agony. Was this a test of strength? Or just how it had to happen? Either way, she thought, she had accepted this. She simply had to endure. To calm the fire that filled her. She had to let it settle in her. And she herself had to settle with it.
As if blowing out a candle, the pain vanished, and her vision was all silver light. Not blinding, but soft and blissful. And there stood Mystra - or rather floated - in front of her, her arms outstretched and smiling. Loving. Caring. Like a mother welcoming a daughter home. Laitae simply submitted and reached out to embrace the goddess with no hesitation, though moments later, she caught herself wondering if this was perhaps a bit too forward. Mystra squeezed the young elf in her embrace as if to dispel that notion. Did she know Laitae had even thought it? Of course she did. All of this was going on in her mind. Mystra was right there - in her mind!
The moment seemed to last for hours, as Laitae embraced the goddess. No words were necessary; no instructions. Laitae already knew what her first task was. Mystra let go of the embrace, pulling back gently, as she smiled at her new Chosen and faded away into the silver light.
The light dimmed and Laitae became still sat on the floor of the catacombs of Candlekeep. In front of her was the skeletal ghost of a silver dragon skull, staring at her.
"Laitae?" The disembodied voice of Miirym spoke, sounding uncertain - and even a little bit bewildered.
Laitae blinked and felt the tears still on her cheeks. She brought a hand up to wipe her face with the sleeve of her dress. "Hello, Miirym."
"Your dust is gone!" The draconic ghost pointed out.
Laitae looked down at the floor, to the circle around her. The circle that used to be around her, that is. The piles of diamond dust were all vanished. She looked back up to Miirym, hovering in front of her.
"What did you see, Miirym?" she asked.
"Silver fire, streaming into you. Your goddess was here too, I could feel it. So much magic, Laitae! And you’re not the same now as when you sat down," responded Miirym with a clarity that was uncommon for the otherwise somewhat addled ghost. "It was a feeling that made me very happy."
Laitae couldn’t help but chuckle. She stood up, straightened out her dress and faced the dragon again. "I came to say good-bye, my friend," she smiled sadly up at the Sentinel. "Mystra has a task for me, and I will have to leave Candlekeep behind. Perhaps I’ll be allowed to come visit you one day in the future, but I don’t know how long that will be."
"They will let you visit me, or I will bite all of them."
Laitae laughed. "Then I will visit you, when I can, Miirym."
"And you will tell me all your new stories!" said the spectral dragon skull and nodded firmly.
Laitae returned the nod and reached up a hand as if to give the dragon a pat on the cheek. Her hand met nothing, but Miirym’s motion indicated she appreciated the gesture.
She spent a few hours there, recounting the tale of how she found the laboratory of Hargin the Scholar that Khelben Arunsun had tasked her in finding, and the research therein regarding the Nether Scrolls that she was now going to be studying with Khelben. Miirym, as always, was fascinated and excited to hear tales from outside the catacombs. Laitae then reaffirmed her intention of visiting again whenever able, and took her farewell with Miirym.
At the gate of Candlekeep stood Tethtoril waiting for her. She handed over her key and wardstone to the First Reader, and managed a smile. This had been her home for only eight years. Not much, in the life of an elf, but they had still been the most eventful and memorable years of her life so far. And though she was no longer avowed, she felt a certain belonging to this place. And indeed, despite not being bound by vows anymore, it was her intention to stay true to those vows as much as she could and still defend Candlekeep to the best of her ability.
"Keep me updated on your research, yes?" asked Tethtoril, smiling as warmly as always, as they walked down the path to get out of Candlekeep’s wards. Laitae nodded. She didn’t quite manage to speak, now, so she resorted to embracing her mentor. Then she stepped back. Inhaled. And sighed, as she wiped the new tears from her cheeks. Tethtoril’s smile was still there, encouraging. She smiled back at him, then spoke an incantation. In a flash of light, she vanished.
And appeared in Waterdeep, in front of the Blackstaff Tower.
DM Boo wrote:Wed Dec 11, 2019 12:55 am
Feel free to post it, and say that it's been approved by the HDM's.