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Part 5: Perchance To Dream


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#1 Guest_Dallan_*

Posted 18 November 2002 - 07:40 AM

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Dreams are mysteries, the random thoughts of the unconscious mind. They can bring rapture or terror, triviality or prophecy.

Excerpt, Of the Children of Murder

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I woke in...yes, another glass cage, though luckily I wasn't floating like the unfortunate living dead in Irenicus' laboratory. Gazing impassively in at me was Irenicus himself, flanked by Bodhi and Yoshimo. Bodhi looked on the edge of breaking out in a giggling fit, while Yoshimo was despondent. Behind them were five chambers, each with a black-clad man imprisoned within.

Irenicus' resonant voice. "Well, it would seem my visitor has awakened."

He continued, and there was a mocking edge to his voice, though no laughter on his face or in his eyes.

"I have planned your coming from the start. Even had you known of Yoshimo, it would not have saved you. But you need not worry about past treacheries...your life ends today."

I looked at him, resigned to my fate but still wondering. "All this just to kill me? You have had innumerable chances to do that."

He shook his head as if admonishing a child. "So much potential, so little imagination. I do not seek your life, but something else entirely. Your divine soul."

"I fail to see the difference."

"Ask Imoen, should you live. In fact, you may indeed live, for a time. She did, in a manner of speaking, and you are stronger, more focused, more aware."

"Aware of what?"

"Of your heritage, Child of Bhaal."

I blinked as the words sank in. "Imoen, a Child of Murder? That's impossible! That's absurd! That's..."

"...the truth. You must have wondered why she was taken to Candlekeep as you were, why the two of you took so well to each other and not to the other children of the keep. You should have been told what you were, that you would embrace it instead of fearing it."

He continued. "I suspect that her innocence, her charm and humor, kept the darkness at bay. There was no place for shadow in her spirit...until I carved one out. Unfortunate, but necessary. And now, I turn to you."

Shock tinged my words as I answered him. "Why take her, then, if she wasn't suited for you?"

"Ah, but we must always look after...family. Bodhi is rather predatory, but she deserved a reward." And he glanced at the vampire, who was playfully nipping at Yoshimo with her fangs as the bounty hunter uncomfortably tried to avoid her.

I grimaced. "She hardly deserves it."

"But she has it. As I will have yours. A pity: you could have been so much more, but now, you will die. I suggest you not resist. The fate in store for you should you survive this ritual is naught but a slower, less pleasant death."

His hands rose above his head, and he began to chant.

The imprisoned men collapsed in their cages, one by one. Darkness obscured Irenicus from sight.

And so, it ends. No revenge for Jaheira and Minsc. No future for Imoen and Aerie. No answers from Yoshimo. No chance to prove Valygar wrong, for Mystra's sake!

No dire prophecy, no domination by the spirit of a dead god, no orgy of murder across the Sword Coast.

No future, no chance for love, no more knowledge.

I may survive.

Why does that not fill me with joy?


And then, darkness.

* * *


And then, light.

Was this, then, the afterlife? I was alone, and standing before the gates of...Candlekeep. The familiar walls towered high above me, and I could see the keep itself in the distance, outlined against the...black sky? Violet sea? Orange clouds? I turned around, seeking to discover more of this strange place, but I saw only the same blasted landscape stretching out into the dark, star-dotted infinity.

And so, I turned again towards the open gates and nervously walked through.

A soft, haunting voice in my mind. Do...not fight...to fight...is to lose...come to me...

Imoen?

Find me...within...you cannot fight alone...


I felt every step upon the hard, broken ground, and I wondered, Is this how it is supposed to be? Should I still feel my body, if I am dead?

I came to the familiar stone bridge arching over the moat, leading up to the doors of the fortress...and hovering above it was...

"Milei? Am I dead? Are you?" Indeed it was my pseudodragon, hovering above the bridge. I could have walked around her easily, but something held me back.

And then she spoke. Her mind-voice was grave, lacking her normal sarcasm or even playfulness.

Nay, child, you live. This is a reflection only, a reflection of yourself. This is no true place.

"Then why can't I wake up?"

To awaken, you must learn. To learn, you must pass within. To pass within, you must sacrifice.

"And what must I give?"

You must give of yourself. Of your health, of your mind, of your wits, or of your youth.

I pondered a moment. What would I sacrifice, for knowledge? And then, I decided.

"I will give of my health, for a strong mind can inhabit a frail body, and it is in the mind and will that true strength lies."

Then through your weakness you shall suffer, knowing yourself better for the effort you must extend.

A gesture of your intent within. Pass as you should, and do not fear what comes.
Milei shimmered and faded, and I felt a sense of loss, of weariness and fatigue. I took a deep breath, and walked on, through the massive and familiar doors of this Candlekeep of my mind.

Within was a great hall, its floors tiled stone. And within stood two figures, both of whom I knew like my own flesh and blood. Imoen and Bhaal, sister and father, leathers and spiked plate mail, faced each other, eyes locked in a contest of wills.

And then, as I entered, they both turned to me instead. Under their stares, my mind became a chaotic maelstrom of thoughts, and voices, and memories.

One alone cannot fight.

You cannot defeat yourself! I am within you!

I will guide you.

I will consume you!

Your identity is your own.

You are fuel for the father!

You are compassion. A bag of gold in Ginia's hand. A helpful spell for Jaheira, weakened by a curse.

You are cruelty! A statue on a hill, still living as the birds and beasts peck and claw at it. Baron Ployer, frozen still as a murderer guts him.

You are love. Weeping over Gorion's corpse in the fields outside Candlekeep. A joyous hug for Imoen as Sarevok fell. A gentle kiss from Jaheira as I gazed over the calm seas.

You are hate! Sarevok dissolving as Varscona bit at his heart.

You are life. Rescuing Garren Windspear's child. Planting a set of three acorns as the laughter of dryads echoes in my ears. Calling upon the power of Bhaal to heal the cuts of the Shattered One's knife.

You are death. Wading through lakes of blood. An anonymous Harper, screaming as she burns.

Both the voices seemed quieter, weaker, faded, as the struggle of thought and will went on.

Together, we are strong. With my guidance, you can defeat him. There was a humming sound, and a glow settled over Imoen and I. The apparition of Bhaal screeched in seeming pain.

Your soul is weakening, fading! There is nothing left within but the instinct!

Imoen screamed as she faded to translucency, and Bhaal's laughter covered all thought, all protest, all that was left of my soul and will.

Blackness, dark as shadow, dark as void.

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