So, we've reached the end at last. I just wanted to say that it's been a pleasure to share this story with all of you and that your reviews, favourites, follows and general support have been greatly appreciated. I will be returning at some point with the sequel, The Memory of Gods.

Thank you for reading!

Epilogue

The gardens of Suldanessellar were far more extensive than Elatharia had initially realised. Now regrown with druidic magic and kept warm by the Great Tree which sheltered the whole city, they were a series of subtly well-kept orchards, flowers and mossy statues which the natives had now lit for the night with drifting conjured lights. The air was warm, even at this time of year – warm enough that her bare arms and the draped cloth down her back did not trouble her. Back in Candlekeep a raincloak would have done well to provide the same relief.

It was no myth that the elves enjoyed feasting and dancing – these were the two main functions of this celebration, either or both well attended in every stretch of the garden. Long tables had been set up around the perimeter stacked with fruits, cakes and savoury snacks. They were certainly well-stocked with wine as well. Elatharia soon found herself clutching her glass like a shield – the moment she had first set it down a servant hurried over with another…and perhaps a Minor Drain would have seemed a little unappreciative as a means of putting him off from his insistence.

The whole city seemed to have come to the gardens. There was no especial interest shown to the 'guests of honour' who filtered in with wary eyes and soon settled, unremarked, at a table by the nearest orchard. Haer'Dalis, striking in brocaded midnight velvet, had eagerly gone on a tour of the place and came back some time later with a platter of cakes. When Viconia refused to join the dancing amongst the orchard he pulled Imoen with him without much more than a smirk. She went willingly, albeit with a roll of her eyes, the peach skirts of her latest 'gifted' gown doing their best to slow her.

"He does not even know what a courtly dance is," Viconia sighed, leaning forward and taking a bite from the confection she held as if that might hide the fixation of her gaze. "Oh. Perhaps he does."

Elatharia hid her smile behind her hand when she followed the drow's stare to where the tiefling had whirled Imoen about, the aasimar already laughing in delight and offering a twinkle-eyed half-bow when she hopped about to face him fully. The Transmuter turned her attention back to her friend when the drow huffed.

Viconia had evidently succumbed to the insistence of the elves, dressed in a deep purple gown of the native type with silver clasps at the shoulders to match the beads woven into her thick white hair. Elatharia knew she should not have been surprised that such glamour came naturally to the eldest daughter of a House which had once been amongst the most powerful in Menzoberranzan. Viconia's glare was even more telling, however.

"Are you…jealous?" Elatharia asked.

"Absolutely," Viconia fairly spat. "It is his intention, after all." She sighed heavily. "They would be lovers if they could get away with it."

"But…it's Imoen…" Elatharia made a point of strengthening her voice. "She's like that with everyone. He's like that with everyone."

Viconia arched a delicate white eyebrow before shaking her head and leaning back in her chair. A moment more of watching the twirling pairs amongst the trees and Elatharia soon spotted Aerie, flushed and giggling as she stepped away from a partner and paused to compliment the harpist before catching sight of the drow and the Transmuter sitting at their table. She hurried over, though Viconia groaned to see this as the avariel sat in a swirl of blue and white fabric, leaning forward to pick up a cake.

"This…this is a l-lot nicer than anything we've been to before," Aerie gushed, eyes bright and as happy as Elatharia had ever seen. "I w-wish you could have seen the festivals in Faenya-Dáil…" But that had her trailing off, sadness flickering across her face even before Korgan crashed heavily into the other end of the table and tore their attention away from the dancing and the gentle music. He cursed, slopping more wine from a gilded jug onto the smooth stone surface before heaving himself into one of the woven metal chairs. His stick clattered to the ground and he spared a curse for that too.

"Any left for me, Korgan?" Jan called even before he emerged from around the dwarf's chair, clambering onto the next seat along and sparing them all a toothy grin before reaching out his empty wine glass for the dwarf to fill. The gnome wore the same silver robes from their audience with the queen, though now they lost out to Korgan's rather imprecise serving skills.

The lights were a little dizzying, not to mention the music and laughter and constant passing by of the natives. Elatharia found herself staring, thinking – but not talking. Viconia continued to glare at Haer'Dalis and Imoen, while Aerie soon left them to dance with Coran, who quickly won her over with his broad smile. Elatharia had not seen the avariel blush so much since she first met Haer'Dalis – although perhaps the wine had something to do with it.

When at last she saw Edwin, Elatharia found herself rising from her seat and treading the cool grass towards him. He stood plucking at the foods which Korgan had not destroyed upon this closest feast table, now dressed in a crimson doublet embroidered in gold, his trousers a perfect black, tucked into the new elvish boots. He had pushed his sleeves up to the elbow while he picked through the food and she could see the smooth, tattooed skin of his forearms no longer marred by Irenicus's burns – save for a faint white line or two which she had found herself tracing in the morning before either of them had been fully awake. He glanced at her sidelong, abandoning his search for food when his eyes caught on her dress instead. She felt her skin warm and fought the smirk that tugged at her lips.

"Imoen said that you were offered the chance to wear red this evening. I see that you declined," he noted wryly. Elatharia groaned.

"She told you that?" she asked, toying with the fine white and gold fabric rather than meet his eyes. "Red felt wrong when I'm no Red Wizard."

"We are not in Thay." His tone said he was goading her. His fingertip ran along the metal curve of her clasped belt.

Elatharia opened her mouth to respond, looking up at him, but was quick to close it again. She just narrowed her eyes at him, not sure what to say and all too aware of the blush colouring her cheeks. He smirked at her even as his eyes focused on her lips.

"I do not think we should linger here in Suldanessellar long," he admitted into the lull. Her eyebrows rose at the change of subject but she only nodded as he leaned back against the table beside her, his arm warm against hers. "And I believe you have something to tell me?"

He listened with only a brief flare of pride when Elatharia recounted to him Melissan's news – and her warning. He nodded thoughtfully when she mentioned her theory about the seven feathers, though with the revelations about Amelyssan such information seemed all but redundant.

"And what do you plan next, oh 'leader'?" Edwin prompted, looking down to where she was slipping her arm through his. She could feel his eyes on her, though she was staring towards the table where Korgan and Jan looked to be doing a good job of alienating Viconia and an unsteadily returning Aerie.

"She wants us to go to Saradush as soon as we can. She says something is going to happen, that there are big things in store for the Bhaalspawn. But I don't think we should go right away, even if we don't stay in Suldanessellar. It's too predictable, just like chasing Jaheira. We need something to keep us away from this trouble, at least until we can determine what's going on for ourselves."

"Perhaps. (I see no alternative, at least.)"

"Great praise," Elatharia laughed, though the sound quieted when she looked up to see him still watching her. His eyes were curious. Heated. She winced, abruptly self-conscious. Of course it would be like this – how long had she been wandering the group like a zombie, soulless and cold? Her stomach flipped when his fingers laced with hers, albeit briefly before he turned to pick up his wine glass.

When they joined the others at the table Imoen and Haer'Dalis were returning also, breathless and grinning. The tiefling offered an exaggerated bow which the aasimar returned before he fixed his attention on the glaring Viconia. With one artful tug he had her on her feet and standing before him.

"Forgive me, my Wildflower," he said without looking away from the drow. "But this dance must go to my Blackbird." Viconia took his hand grudgingly, only to gasp when he pulled her to him, whirling her as the harpist started his playing once more. The elves were already staring even before they reached the orchard.

"I'm not sure what I just got tangled up in there," Imoen admitted, sharing a grimace with Aerie. She cringed even more when Elatharia explained the issue. "She's done crazy. And he's done crazy for her," she declared after a long gulp of wine.

"I am not sure what that means to someone like him – or someone like her," Edwin noted, twirling his glass when Imoen gaped at him.

"Well. I've sworn off things like that for good, so no need to worry." The aasimar turned about as if looking for something else to distract her. Elatharia's heart dropped to see that.

"…and I'm hopin' we're not to be stuck here much longer, Bhaalkids!" Korgan slurred, waving his hands expectantly when all eyes turned to him. "Well? Ye got some pay to be owin' me. And a lot more besides!"

"Well…" Aerie's voice caught. "I was thinking th-that we c-could go to Watcher's Keep. They have been asking for aid w-with little success for so long and…and it was Mazzy's greatest wish to go. I have her…her ashes. We could take them…"

Elatharia glanced at Edwin.

"They do have a lot of ancient artefacts there," she murmured, leaning in to him and quickly straightening again when Imoen raised an eyebrow at them. The Transmuter cleared her throat. "I think you're right, Aerie."

"Really?" the avariel fairly squealed it. Edwin failed to hide a laugh.

"Yes," Elatharia said.

It would keep them well away from Saradush and Melissan for a time, at least.

4th Uktar 1369, Year of the Gauntlet
(Twenty days later)

The night air was blessedly cool on his cheeks, which had been burned by long hours of sand and sun even behind the cloth he had pinned across his face. His teachers had not been lying when they spoke of the vast swathe of Tethyr's southern desert, nor yet of its endless blue skies and scorching heat. Long before the end of the first day upon his camel the novelty had worn off.

Anomen left his guides with a gold coin each; they plucked them warily from his hands once he had hefted his bags. Such wealth was rare in these parts. He had turned away even before he bid the cursory thanks and farewell; the pots and pans of those Calishite travellers were already clanking softly in the still night air as they led their camels away, muttering to each other. The saddlebags were too heavy to carry far but even at this hour Anomen could make out his destination, a great black shadow darker than the inky night sky which glittered with those countless stars.

Amkethran was a small village, a group of stone homes huddled up here on this rocky ridge by a semi-subterranean oasis with little to recommend it for travellers. His guides had been repeating all of this to him as if he were stupid, every day since they set out from Myratma. He knew. That was fine. By Helm it was a blessing, though he was not here only for the solitude. He was here for the monastery which loomed ahead, built on the very edge of this cliff and carved from the very same pale sandstone. Torches flickered by its high gates but otherwise little was visible in the low light. It was a great void against the starlit sky.

Raising his own torch he hefted his bags one more time before forging ahead. It felt good to have hard stone beneath his feet after days of shifting sands but he hardly wanted to trip on a grasping root or bit of scrub – especially not as the guards stood to attention with his approach. Both were unarmed, eyes glittering with warning in the firelight nonetheless. They were tall, burly – and clad in thin white robes without a hint of armour.

"None may enter the monastery at this hour," a voice called from the bell tower above. Her accent rolled with the hard consonants of Calimshan. "Turn about."

Anomen peered up at the tower's window in vain. Not so much of a hint of movement answered him. He coughed against a dry throat and squared his shoulders. Melissan had promised this for him.

"I was told to come here by a friend of your leader," he called upwards. "My name is Anomen Delryn. I am…I was… a Knight of the Radiant Heart. I am here to join Balthazar's Order."