Zaebros Del'duren, Red Wizard of Thay

[Thrym]

"So you want to hear, why I don't like your wonderful race, elf? A waste of time, I assure you, but as you want. Could take a bit though. Where to start...

I was born in a place called Eltabbar. That is in Thay, but I think even you have enough education to know that. My father was a Red Wizard of the school of Illusion, and so am I. We were quite rich, had a nice house, hundreds of slaves, and so on... I'm sure even you can imagine. Under our slaves was a less... an elf, like you. Ne'emalin was her name. We grew up together... well, actually she was a ten or twenty years older, whatever. Beautiful lass she was, indeed. I liked here. Loved her even. And she loved me as well. Don't look that surprised elf, I'd not tell it if it was not the truth.

Well, it came to be that there was a little slave revolt in a small town near the border to Rashemen. Some relatives of us had those problems either, so my father decided to go there to help them with getting in control again. At that time, I was ... six- or seventeen I think, I missed no opportunity to get out of Eltabbar, and the area around that town was said to be one of the most beautiful in Thay. And that means something, elf. So I asked my father if I could accompany him. A big mistake. The most terrible I ever made...

We broke up, me, Ne'emalin my father, some dozens blooded ones and undeads. Father said he'd just animate the rebels or summon some baatezu should it not be enough. Though perhaps breakign up is the wrong word. Father simply teleported everything.

While my father was discussing the rebellion with our relatives, me and Ne'emalin left to have a look at the landscape we heard of. And it was as beautiful as told, indeed. We lied down under a small tree near a waterfall. It was perfect, and as I did countless times before, I gazed into that eyes... clear, blue eyes, somehow different from that of humans. Full of innocence and joy, soft and tender…

The sounds of approaching people ripped me out of my daydreams. At first I was merely annoyed by the bunch of slaves that surrounded us. Gnolls, orcs, dwarves, hin, and her. She never told me her name, but it did not matter anyways. One of your kin either, elf.

Told them to go away I did, but they just laughed. Then I realized who I was talking to… the rebels. I told Ne’emalin to run, to get my father, and readied myself. They’d not get me that easily. Fortunately they did not care much about Ne’emalin. She, the elf, pointed towards me, and her servants charged. Lifting my hand and uttering an incantation, I sent half a dozen of them to the ground with a cone of whirling colours, and jumped back while the rest was distracted, and turned to the attackers in my back, burning a bunch of orcs to ashes with a wave of fire. It seemed I was not completely chanceless against my foolish attackers. Then I heard her chanting. I realized what she tried, and raised my hand to invoke a spell, to interrupt her… but it was to late. Sweet, comforting darkness and warmth filled my mind, urging me to rest, just to lay down on the wonderful grass below my feet and sleep… I fought against, but in vain. I closed my eyes.

The next thing I remember is darkness. But not warm, comforting darkness like the spell gave, no… it was cold, wet and lonely. The ground I sat on was moving, and I could hear voices from outside. Many voices, speaking in many, many strange tongues. I don’t know how long I stayed there alone, but it does not matter anyways… after some time, she came in. I cursed her. Told her my father would hunt her and her pathetic servants down and slay them all for their crimes. And if she thought he’d pay for me, she’d be mad. As if my father wasn’t able to find them with the smallest hint. She just laughed and stared at me with those eyes. Clear, blue eyes… somehow different from that of humans. Full of hate and wrath, hard and cruel. She left without explaining what she wanted to do with me then. But she returned, she and her servants. Often. Daily? I do not know, time did not seem to pass there, in the dark. They came to me often, torturing me, slashing my skin, cutting at me, hitting me, tearing at my mind with magic. And I did not even know why… I did not know them. I had never hurted them, especially not like this. I never hurted someone like this, not even with a reason. I asked her for an explanation. Asked why. Always. But she did not talk. She just stared at me with those eyes… Clear, blue eyes… somehow different from that of humans. Full of hate and wrath, hard and cruel.

Then came a day. I heard noise and voices from outside, like always. I did not care much at first, until I heard that strange sentence. One of them asked the elf why there was a wall of ice around them suddenly. They all sounded surprised. At first…

Then I heard them scream. Most of them out of fear, but some out of pain. I know how it sounds if someone screams out of pain… screamed thousand times myself. I heard ripping flash, and a laughter… no mortal laughter, I knew that laughter… just a devil could laugh like that. Now you may think ‘Oh my, a devil’, but to me that laughter was the sweetest sound for years… why should a devil attack this people? He’d need a reason, someone must have summoned and ordered him. And I knew a man that often summoned them… father.

The walls of my prison broke as the devil crushed a massive gnoll through it. I had seen such devils before… skeletally thin, a head like a scull, long clawed arms, skin pale like that of corpses and a long tail, like that of a scorpion. An Osyluth. But I did not care much about the Osyluth. I saw something… something I missed so much in that dark, dark place… it was up above me, that burning ball of fire in the sky, hurting my eyes with its light, but I enjoyed it. It spended warmth, warmth and light. Surrounded by what I had missed so long I heard the screams as the devils slaughtered them. But then it catched my attention. That voice. I never had heard it scream, but I knew it was her. All of her servants were dead, and the devil was pressing her against the wall of ice he had conjured. Someone approached from behind the wagon. So a wagon it was… it seemed we had been travelling all this time. I saw him approaching the devil and the elf, his scarlet robes flowing around his old, frail body. Slowly he stepped forward.

‘Where is my son you blackhearted wench?’, he spoke. She forced herself to ignore the pain, a malicious grin playing around her mouth… and eyes… Clear, blue eyes… somehow different from that of humans. Full of hate and wrath, hard and cruel. She pointed toward me, and my father turned around. His eyes widened. I did not understand… why did he look at me like that? ‘What have you done to him, you witch?’ What he deserves, what all you bastards deserve she said. I did still not know why I deserved it, but it did not matter right now.

He told her she’d regret it. That she would suffer even more than me. He gave her to the Osyluth… as an additional payment, he said. I can not even imagine how a baatezu could torment her, but every time I think of it a smile comes to my face… like this one, see it, elf? As the devil disappeared with her, I looked down at me. Wanted to see what had shocked my father. The impression was… surreal, and I think I did not realize that day that what I saw was me… thin, almost skeletal, cuts and scars everywhere, burned parts, skinned parts, even parts of flesh were missing… even our zombies looked better.

Father approached me. I could see he was sad. He picked me up. I tried to speak. To tell him how thankful I am, but I did not find the strength anymore. Just something that sounded more like a cough than a thank you came out of my mouth. He told me to be silent. We’d be at home soon. All would be well again. And with a word of him, we vanished from that place... and were at home.

My home was not like I remembered it. It looked that much… poorer. Not as glorious. But I spent most of my time in my bed anyways. My mother came in from time to time, to get me something to eat and look after me. I asked her why all looked so different… she said she and my father were to old. They could not get children anymore, and with the loss of me, father had lost his will to live on as well. That he did not care about what happened anymore. We were poor now, even had to sell most of the slaves. She said they had to sell Ne’emalin, and that she was sorry… I could have cared less.

She also said that father had locked himself up into the summoning chamber. I did not know what he did, but I was thinking about what could concern him. It was clear to me of course… he could not afford a priest, and I was not able to give him grandchildren. Our family would die non the less. I heard sounds from the chamber each day. Sounds of battles. A whole week long, each and every day.

Then, at the end of the tenday, I was carried into the chamber by two of our zombies. Mother accompanied me, and father was inside already. He stood before a summoning circle. Did he want to conjure something? I had watched him doing that often, but why now? I heard a moan from the back of the room. Somehow I managed to turn my head into the direction. There, in chains, lied man and women. Ten of them. One for each day. But their skin was so fair, and they had wings. Angels… yes. I remembered those from a book I had read… in my youth, before the torment. Devas they were called. Astral ones it were, I think… not that it matters.

My father started chanting. I understood him… he had insisted on me learning infernal, as he was using it himself so often when summoning the devils. Great Lord of the pit, he said. And a name… Amal’gerion. He chanted for ten minutes. Great Lord of the pit… my father never had called something of that strength, at least not before my absence. Perhaps he had learned it by now. But the circle… it looked like always, the same runes, the same lines, same size… it glowed deep red, pulsing with the power my father called to this plane. Then he appeared. The ground broke up in the circle, and wrapped in his large bat wings, surrounded by a shroud of flames, darkness and pure, all consuming fear, just his blood red eyes glowing in the dark, he appeared. Amal’gerion. I knew that kind of devil… a pitfiend.

I could not move, and I could not even scream. Mother had ran away from the fear. That pure fear. Father could stand it. He stood before the fiend. Amal’gerion looked down at him. The circle around the devil did not pulse anymore. It had glowed up very short, but now it was dark. I knew what that meant… it was broken. The devil was free.

The baatezu laughed. Not a mortal laugh. Just a devil could laugh like that. He spoke with a voice, a voice like screams, like pain and fear, like hate and cold, controlled anger. No words in this tongue can describe it… and I doubt you know infernal, elf. ‘A nice circle you have there, red wizard… perfectly drawn, I have to say, but I’d expect one of your kin to know that it is far, far to weak to hold me.’ He smiled. ‘And in your mind I see you know this… so I wonder little mortal, why did you call me if you know you can not control me, hmm?’ My father answered that he had an offer to him, a good offer. He had caught ten angels as a gift to him, that he needed his help to save his family.

‘Interesting Mortal, interesting. Yet you have failed to consider that know that I am here and free, I could simple and easy take them and go. But do not despair, mortal… perhaps we can still do business’ A wicked smile appeared on the fiends face. My father asked the fiend what he want. Said he could have anything.

The devil wanted his soul. Freely given, as a gift. And father agreed. I wished to scream, to tell him not to, but I was to weak, my body was to weak to fight against its state, and my mind to weak to fight against the all consuming fear. Father walked towards the angels, drawing a wickedly barbed dagger. Chanting a short time in infernal followed by the fiends name, he drove it through their hearts, ten times, until all of them were dead. ‘Great Amal’gerion, Lord of the pit, hear my plea, I offer thee the blood of these angels, and my very soul.’ Then he drove the dagger through his own heart. He looked at me. Take care of your mother, he said. Then he died. I wanted to scream again. Wanted to cry. But I could not. The fiend laughed and for a second I could see the joy in his face. A fiend that feels joy is a rare sight, and whenever you see it, you can be sure something terrible has happened. He turned to me. ‘So little mortal… as I am an honourable baatezu, I shall keep my word. You are restored.’ He disappeared in a burst of flames, and I rushed towards my father. My legs had the power again. It did not even hurt. Yet I did not care, I just wanted to reach him. I don’t know how long I lied there and cried, but it must have been hours.

I was restored. Completely healthy again, not a single scar on my body was left. On my body. It was all my fault I thought. But I had work to do. I needed to restore my families richdom. Unfortunately I could not find a good opportunity at home. But I managed to convince a Tharchyon that had business with my father from time to time to get me a post in one of the enclaves. I should travel to the one on the Cormyrian-Proskurian border. I did not like the thought, but I had no choice. I needed this chance. The next caravan to the enclave did not go from Eltabbar, but from a small town near it. Unlike my father, I was not able to teleport around, so I had to walk.

Some minutes after I left Eltabbar, I heard some running after me. Calling my name. I froze in place… that voice. Like the one of an angle. I turned around, seeing her running towards me, her golden hair weaving behind her as she crushed into me and threw me down with her. Ne’emalin. How I missed her. For a second, I felt like back then. I could feel her lips on my neck, her breath on my skin. I smiled, and she raised herself up a bit and smiled as well. With her mouth. With her eyes… clear, blue eyes, somehow different from that of humans. Full of innocence and joy, soft and tender… but were they? Or was it a lie? Clear, blue eyes… somehow different from that of humans. Full of hate and wrath, hard and cruel. I could still see them. But since my fathers death, I had understand something. It was not my fault. I never did anything like that. It is your fault, elf. You and your kin. Your kin and the other races. You are envious of us, envious of humanity. You know your time is over. You see this world, and with the dieing eyes of your kin you see it is no longer yours. You play nice, but I know how you are… Full of hate and wrath, hard and cruel. And I knew she was like you all. I reached for my belt, yet I still gazed at her. She seemed so happy.

It felt as if I had driven it through my own heart as I stabbed the dagger into hers. Again and again, suffering, running away from that eyes. The red of her blood merged with the red of my robes… and she was staring at me with those eyes. And in those eyes I could see the question I had asked those eyes thousand times… Why?"

[Thrym]

Another blow crashed against his staff, followed by an attack from the broad, tooth filled mouth. Zaebros jumped back, lifting his staff to block another blow. Parrying, he fell back a little more. The heat was almost unbearable, the light of the flames hurted his eyes, and his robe was half torn apart and covered in blood and sweat. Still, he enjoyed it. The distraction. The focus he had, right now in this second. All his problems were pushed aside for a moment, far, far away where they could not break his concentration. Another blow, coming quickly from the right. He whirled around, hitting the claw with his staff, deflecting the force of the blow away from his body. The Creature opened his mouth. Zaebros readied himself to dodge the bite that would follow.

‘Hey Zae, how was that talk you wanted to have with Shivata by the way?’ No Bite. But it hit harder. Broke his concentration for a second. He could see the massive gauntlet nearing his stomach, but it was to late. No way to dodge anymore. The blow hit him and hurled him through the room. He crushed onto the ground. ‘Slaad! That was not fair!’.

The towering, red-skinned, toad-like being grinned. ‘Oh! Personification of Chaos, you broke the rules! How could you?’ Zaebros smirked. ‘Actually I wanted to be distracted from that’.
The Slaad sighed. ‘Can’t smell that Zae. Anyways, I think we should better stop. You took some mean blows there! Great fun though!’ ‘Yes Slaad… enough of this. Return to your home.’ Not waiting for a response, he sent the extraplanar being back to his home plane.

You should stop sooner, Master. You are breathing heavily, and the Slaad has beaten you up badly. Daebra. Her voice appeared in his head. ‘Nonsense, my girl. Training is important, and it is not that bad.’ He uncorked a vial from his girdle and took a sip from it. The wizard closed his eyes and felt the soft tickle as his wounds closed. He did not like the feel of healing magic. To often had he been healt just to ensure he’d survive longer. But it was necessary. Waving his hand he uttered a short incantation and repaired his torn robe. Another one and the blood and sweat vanished from it. ‘Let’s retreat for today, Daebra’. He left the small, empty room in the temple, followed by the ‘dog’. As he entered the main room, he bowed a last time to the statue of Kossuth before he headed out.

After a short walk through the enclave, they had reached his quarters. Zaebros let himself fall down onto the bed. ‘Ahh…’ He reached for the tea on the small table next to it. It was cold, but that did not matter anything. He concentrated on the spell he had used to clean his robe briefly, and took a sip from the cup. ‘A miracle how people manage without Prestidigitation, don’t you think Daebra?’ He reached down to pet the dog. She did not answer, but it didn’t matter. He took another sip of the bitter brew. He often was just sitting around somewhere, drinking. It was like fighting, it helped him to concentrate, to push away his memories.

What has happened, Master? You are… especially… brooding today. The telepathic message of his familiar made a small smirk appear on his richly tattooed face again. ‘I was… wondering why she was so distant in the last time. Of course I knew she had much to do, but that was no explanation for most parts of it. I asked her why, Daebra. She avoided the question at first, but that… I had never expected her to say that.’ He turned his head and stared out of the window, gazed at the foreign stars of Cormyrs nightsky while stroking over the dogs back. He did not speak on. There was no reason, Daebra could hear his thoughts just as easily. There are people with real needs, she had said. Real needs. A bad joke. How much he had suffered in the past, and he did not even want anyones compassion. All he wanted was someone to be there. Tea, fighting, his magic, they all could push away the pain. Friendship could ease it, just a bit, but it helped.

He had told that woman what has happened to him, her and no one else. Not because he’d trust or like her more than the other friends he had found in this weird place called Cormyr, but because she was the first. As he came here, he was a broken man, had tried to burry it all deep within him. But it did not work, at least not for long. He had seeked someone to tell what has happened, and no one else seemed willing… and worthy to listen. She knew what he had endured. How could she say such a thing?

Everything would have been better. And if she had told him that he was a stupid jerk and she hated him. That would still have hurt, but not in the same way. How could someone that knew him and called herself a friend of him do that? There are people that have real needs. Real needs. Not like him.

‘In the end it does not matter anyways, Daebra.’ He was not here to help himself after all. He was here to make sure his mother would have a pleasant live at home. His duty towards her had kept him alive, and it would go on to do so.

He pulled the ornamental dagger he carried with him out of the small scabbard in his girdle. There was still blood on it. He had not dared to clean it. How it hurted to look at it. The one part about the last six years he had not dared to tell her. He feared she’d hate him for it, though he disliked lieing to her. In the end it had been a good move. They were no friends anymore. It was good that she did not know it. He put the dagger into the scabbard again. ‘At least I got you, my girl. You are always there. Fiend they call you.’ He petted the dog on the back. ‘Good night my girl… good night. Was a long day.’

[Thrym]

Only his footsteps broke the silence. Completely absent minded he stepped through the lightless halls. Slowly he could hear another sound, could hear them approaching. But this sensation did not really reach his mind. Not even the huge, red being that rushed from his side to hurl itself against them really reached him. Then he felt the presence in his thoughts, urging him to concentrate. He blinked and looked to his side, just to see the origin of the presence rushing forward. Daebra. She was right. He was here to distract himself for some time, to let the danger of the battle around him purge the unpleasant thoughts. Tightening the grip around his trusted staff he charged forward. It almost felt like a dream, his staff whirling around him, blocking, parrying and from time to time even striking out against the approaching things. He glanced at his companions, his friends. How different this must feel to each of them. He could see the Slaad, ‘Frogwart’ as Kelric called him,to his left. He enjoyed it. It could easily be seen in his face, joy, rage, pride in his abilities. To him, it was fun. Great fun as he usually called it himself.

To his right, the polar opposite. Daebra. She did not seem to feel at all, her eyes showing her complete focus. There was no joy, no rage, and no pride. Pure discipline, and maybe even a hint of boredom as she teared through another mummy. Different.

Zaebros fought to forget. To push the focus of his mind to something else. It had not been pleasant days into last time. He had realized what it was what he felt. He did not deserve something like this again, and he knew he’d not get it anyways. To know he was alone with this, that she’d not feel like him, that had hurted him. But he could have dealt with it. He dealed with worse things before, far worse things. But she was so kind. He had doubted his own thoughts, and that had hurted even more. Zaebros had no time for doubts. Doubts weakened him, and he was weak enough.

He had made a decision. To tell her. He did not expect her to feel likewise, but that was alright. At least he’d know then, and they could maybe even stay friends. All would have been well. But it shouldn’t have been. First that elf tried to murder him, and he had left. Maybe to prevent angering his superiors by killing someone in a Cormyrian town, maybe just because of what she had told him the elf would not understand. Maybe both.

Then a friend of her had appeared, and had a gift for her. So they left him alone. Or no. She did not just leave him alone. He had told her to. Told her he did not want to see her again. That he’d explain later. He had panicked, pushed her away even when she asked what was wrong. Later he realized. Left a message. But that was days ago, and he neither saw her nor did she respond. Had she decided to obey his wish, to leave him alone? But why did Kelric then tell him she had missed three of their lessons? Was it his own fault? Had something happened?

A bandaged arm rushing toward his head ripped him out of his thoughts again. It was so close, there was no way to stop it anymore. He closed his eyes expecting the impact. All he heard was a scream and the sound of flames. He blinked and looked at the burning rests of the mummy. Zaebros. He looked up, his eyes wandering about the dogs black body. You came to push this away. She was right. He had come to forget this for now. Listen my friend. It were just some short days. Maybe there was a storm or something. She’ll respond, and if she hasn’t in some days, we’ll seek her. And now concentrate.

The hound turned around and jumped at another mummy. Daebra was right. He just worried to much.

Hadn’t she said that to him, too?

He sighed silently and shook his head. It did not matter. Not now.

He tightened the grip around his staff again and hurled himself into battle next to the dog.

[Thrym]

She rushed over the wall. She could feel his mind, he had returned, and his mood was not the best. Not that her masters mood was ever good, but today it was worse. She reached the eastern end of the wall and jumped down. The fall would have broken a bone or two of a human or a normal dog, but she was no normal dog after all. There he was, sitting under a tree near the wall. Slowly she stepped towards him. ‘Hey my girl’ He looked up and gave her a weak smile as she sat down next to him. She could feel his hand stroking over her back briefly. What has happened now again? A mere thought, but she knew Zaebros could hear it. He sighed deeply and glances up at the sky. ‘Told her Daebra, I told her’

I see… you seem very down, I thought you had dealed with the no you were going to get. A slight smirk showed on his face before he shrugged. ‘I did do that, aye. But I got no no from her my girl.’ Daebra tilted her head. And why aren’t you happy then? Isn’t that what you wanted? ‘Well… no, you see… was no no, but it was no yes either. Said she needed to think about this’ He frowned ‘That is like saying no, but it leaves me with my doubts and my thoughts about ‘What if?’’ He sighed again. The dog tilted her head into the other direction. And you think a no would have ended your ‘What if?’ thinking. Don’t be stupid Zaebros. Even when she’ll say it the next time you see her, you’ll go on asking it yourself. The wizards head sunk down. ‘Probably you are right, but I’d at least know for sure then. That would make it easier to deal with it then just suspecting it.’

She placed her head on one of his legs and looked up into his eyes. You are far too pessimistic by the way. If you go at it like that, you can blame yourself for it. Have you written that scroll by now you wanted to make her to protect her from that pathetic thing that calls itself a hellhound? ‘No, I haven’t. I wanted to start later, and give it to Kale to…’ That is exactly what you won’t do. You’ll give it to her yourself. Then you can get your answer during it. ‘But…’ But you didn’t want to go to her again despite your doubts because you were scared. Zaebros blinked. Then he nodded. ‘Right Daebra.’ He sighed again. ‘What would I do without you?’ He petted her on the head and looked up to the sky briefly. ‘I better start working. Will distract me… yes…’

Like a single being they raised and headed towards the gate. Tomorrow he’d know. He could deal with it then. What will you do if she loves you as well actually? He smirked. ‘I am not going to start imagining that now. I don’t need to start hoping now, just to have those hopes crushed again tomorrow.’ Daebra sighed and shookher head , some tiny flames escaping her mouth. I can only say the same as usual… you worry to much.

[Thrym]

Speaking the final word of the invocation, Zaebros could feel the world around him fade away. The walls and buildings of the enclave, the trees, the grass… everything faded into an empty, lightblue glow, till only him and Daebra remained. Now came the tricky part. He concentrated on his memories, envisioning the road that took him away from Eltabbar when he left to Cormyr. Finally he saw it before his inner eye. He reached out for the strands of the weave again, sending the image through them, focussed on this single thought, this single place, till the blue around him took shape again. A blink, and the two stood on the road. Zaebros looked around, till he saw what he seeked. He lowered his head and stepped toward a small hill not far away from the road. He paused as he had almost reached its top. He knew what he’d find behind it. For a moment he considered turning around. He shook his head. It was time to burry his hate. It had costed him the joy of live, and it had costed him both of the women he loved. First his Ne’emalin. And now Yulena. She said she didn’t love him, that she’d love someone else… hearing his name had almost crushed his heart. He had been the first he had told of his feelings towards her, and he could remember that he had been happy for him. And Zaebros had even to promise her not to tell him she loved him.

Later that day he had talked to Padrin. She had told him of her decision, and unlike to Zaebros, she had explained it. His hate had destroyed it. His unability to forgive a whole race for the deed of but one.

At least she had thought that. She had not known of his guilt.

Zaebros stepped over the hill absent minded and pushed away branch after branch, till he found the corpse. A shiver rushed over his body as he stared of the half rotten body. His eyes focused on her heart, on the whole in her chest. His hate had killed her. His Ne’emalin. How much he had loved her. He had told Yulena and Padrin he did this. That he had murdered his Ne’emalin, that he had panicked and stabbed the dagger through her innocent heart. The dagger. He looked down at the golden, ornamental scabbard holding it. Maybe they had understood. Understood why he could not stand the elves. Not only did they scare him. No, they also made him feel guilty. Looking at them was like looking at her. He shook his head again and bowed down to touch the corpse. Even if Yulena had understood why he felt as he did, it would change nothing most probably. But that didn’t matter now. His past, his hate had destroyed enough. It was time to burry it. To burry her. Reaching out into the weave, Zaebros invoked a simple illusion around the corpse, removing the signs of rot and its scent, restoring clothes and closing wounds. He wiped the tears out of his face and picked her up. ‘Come Daebra… let’s go home’

He didn’t even realize most of the way. Slowly he followed Daebra, carrying his Ne’emalin in his arms. The streets of Eltabbar where full as always, but the commoners backed away quickly from the red wizard and his dog. Soon they had reached their estate. Zaebros lifted his head up. It was in better state when before he left already. He signed Daebra telepathically to open the door and stepped in after she did. Briefly he felt the defensive dweomers on the entrance stroking over them, but they didn’t react to the two… the three. Silently he walked through the empty halls, till he reached the garden. A weak smile crossed his face. At least this part looked as beautiful as in his youth. He headed toward an old tree in the middle. How often had he laid here with her, staring into her eyes till he fell asleep… till her reverie was over far before he had slept enough and she bugged him to stand up. The smile grew a bit as he placed her down near it. He wiped the tears out of his face again and mumbled a short invocation, forming a shovel out of shadowmatter. He could have digged her grave with a single spell, but that did just not seem right. He started digging. It took hours, but they passed so quickly he did not realize at all that dusk had come, wrapping the scenery into its red light. He dismissed the shovel and picked up Ne’emalin again. Carefully he levitated down with her, till he reached the ground and placed her on the earth. He looked to his belt briefly and pulled the dagger out of its scabbard, stared and the dried red blood of Ne’emalin and his father, and the golden blood of the angels on it. Gently he placed it on her corpse and closed her hands around it. He went down on a knee and softly pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then he levitated up again. His gaze met Daebras for some seconds, and he even thought to see a hint of sadness in her empty eyes. He concentrated on his magic and lifted up the loose earth lying next to hole in the ground with it. Carefully he let it drift down into the hole, until it was closed again. A sigh escaped him. He took a step to his left and picked up a rose from the ground and lifted it up to his face. For a second, he enjoyed its smell before stepping to the grave again and placing the flower on it. He looked to Daebra again. ‘Time to leave our home again and return to Cormyr it seems.’ He paused it. It did not seem right. ‘No… time to leave the past and… return home.’ He smiled and turned towards the building.

Someone stood behind him. Zaebros reached up to wipe away her tears before taking her into his arms. He let her go again after some time, and looked into her old, wrinkled face. ‘She would have liked to be buried here, Zae.’ Zaebros nodded and followed his mother inside.

Some hours later, he stood in the garden again. He still felt guilty, but strangely at peace somehow. Softly he stroked over Daebras back and started chanting silently.

Then world faded into blue again.