Erik de Bie - Downshadow

Blood trickling down her face, Myrin-Fayne-Ellyne-whoever she was-laughed.

She saw something else, then, behind them-a girl, clad in blue flames.

Myrin.

Herself.

The vision ended as Fayne wrenched herself away from Myrin. Fayne lay shuddering on the floor, her hands pressed to her temples.

"Lady Ilira," Myrin murmured. "Lady Ilira killed your mother. That's why you wanted to hurt her. That's why-"

"What?" Fayne shook her head. "What are you blathering about?"

"I was there-I saw you get cut. Right there." Myrin looked hard at Fayne's cheek, and sure enough, a scar faded into existence along the smooth skin.

Mutely, Fayne raised her hand to the scar. Her lip trembled. She was afraid.

Myrin understood what Fayne wanted. More than that, she understood what Fayne was. She saw the depths of her game-saw the darkness in her heart. "What happened to you?"

Fayne shook her head. She pulled a bone shaft from her belt-the wand from the vision, Cythara's wand-and slid it across her cheek. The scar smoothed out and vanished.

"Whatever you saw, it doesn't matter," Fayne said. "It has nothing to do with you." tea

"I saw you. Saw what you are. Ah"-Myrin shivered-"what are you?" t Fayne laughed-and in rhat moment, all the tension went out of her. "Oh, stop it-you're so cute when you're scared." She nuzzled her thumb into Myrin's cheek.

Despite herself, Myrin had to smile.

"You don't have anything to worry about." Fayne traced her fingers down her cheek. "This is one of my rare noble moments." "Noble?" Myrin blinked.

"Indeed," Fayne said. "The very existence of our world is at stake, and you can save it."

Myrin narrowed her eyes. "How?"

"Simple, my dear," Fayne said with a smile. "You can die." Myrin laughed, but the nervous sound died away. Fayne's face was mortally serious.

"You… you're not jesting?"

Fayne shook her head. "No, tragically. Your very existence is a threat to yourself, everyone around you, and perhaps all of Faerun."

Myrin was stunned. "But… but I haven't done anything!"

"No," Fayne said. "But you will."

"You… you can't kill me for something I might do!"

"Will," said Fayne. "I didn't say might. Will."

"Tell me what it is!" Myrin said. "I won't do it-I promise!"

"No. I'm sorry, but it's inevitable. You can't stop yourself." Fayne shook her head sadly. "You might do it by accident, or more likely some villain or other will use you. You come across an archmage or one of the plaguechanged… sooner or later, you will absorb something coo powerful for you to control."

"I don't understand." Myrin's heart was racing. "What do you mean, absorb?"

"Never mind. The point is that the power inside you is simply too dangerous for you to exist," Fayne said. "Thus, I'm going to take you to someone-someone who can contain you safely, without destroying the city in the process." She touched Myrin's cheek, a little more guarded this time, as though fearing another vision. "Don't worry-you might not have to die."

Tears were streaming down Myrin's face. "Why are you saying this? I'm… I'm just a girl. I hardly even have any magic! You can't possibly…"

"You're a goddess," Fayne said.

Myrin's eyes went so wide they might have popped. "I'm… what?"

"No, no, that was a jest." Fayne tried to stifle her laughter with her hand. "Honestly, you should have seen your face." Myrin wasn't laughing.

Fayne's expression grew grave once more. "To be accurate, you've got a goddess inside you-or, more truly, the death of one," she said. "Metaphorically speaking, you're carrying death, little one-the death of the old world. Just like all the other spellscarred. Like Kalen. Like Lady-" Her eyes narrowed. "Like that whore."

"I–I don't-what?"

"It's complicated." She pursed her lips. "You're all spellscarred, but you, Myrin, are far more interesting than any of them. Your powers…"

"But what are they?" Myrin almost wept. "What do I do?" "This is delightful," Fayne said. "You really don't know, do you?" Myrin shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Very well," Fayne said. "I'll tell you, but only because I fancy you well."

"What?" Myrin choked on the word. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Fayne bent as though to kiss Myrin, then recoiled, thinking better of it. "Let us begin this way," she said, catching Myrin by the chin. "You remember the lich, in the alley, when you were kidnapped, yes?"

"Yes, I-but I chased her away. I didn't-"

"Silly girl." Fayne batted Myrin across the chin, almost playfully- the way a cat might. "You didn't honestly think that power was yours, did you?"

Myrin's lungs heaved and she could barely speak. "I… I don't understand.". t

Then Myrin wept for true-terrified, confused, and frustrated. Had the world gone mad? She was just Myrin-little more than a slip of a girl, with hardly any magic to her name. She wanted her mother- whose face she didn't even remember. That made her weep more.

"Oh, sweetling, don't-I'll be plain, I promise."

Myrin was crying, and damn it if Fayne was going to stop her with anything less than divine revelation.

Fayne smiled. "Remember when we first met?" she asked. "I fussed over you, then later, you struck me with that spell? The one that hurt me and stripped my strength?"

"What-what of it?" Myrin asked between sobs.

"That was my spell," Fayne said. "Stolen out of my head."

The words froze Myrin, and she looked up, stunned.

Fayne raised her hand, murmured a few words, and Myrin felt the same pressure in her mind as she had used to strike Fayne in Kalen's tallhouse.

Myrin stared, heart hammering, as Fayne knelt and picked up the gag.

"Please," Myrin said. "Please-I need to know more!" Fayne scoffed. "Only this," she said. "Folk never change. Do not forget that."

"Fayne, plea-!"

Fayne shoved the gag back in Myrin's mouth with enough force to knock her over. By the time Myrin recovered and looked up, the half-elf was gone.

The sun dipped outside his window. Dusk fell quickly, and mist flowed into Waterdeep once more. No strange glowing patches would appeat that night, though-only calm, expectant fog to shroud the city, hiding the unpleasant things that needed to be done.

The faltering light slanted across the blood-stained floor that Kalen had done his best to clean.

Though Kalen didn't feel like eating, he forced himself. However much Cellica had spiced it, the cold stew tasted like soggy paper. In part, it was his curse; in part, it was fate.

The dwarf was giving him some time, and he was glad of that much, at least.

He'd taken Cellica to her adoptive family in a hired carriage. They'd accepted the body with tears and sobs. Kalen hadn't been able to face her adoptive siblings and stood aloof. Philbin, so like a father, had whispered a silent prayer for vengeance. Kalen had nodded silently.

Now, Kalen sat wearing the armor Cellica had repaired, rolling his helm between his gauntleted hand and his bare one. He had only one gauntlet, after rhat noble stripling had taken his second away. He was supposed to do this alone, weakened, without his full armor or even his sword? Impossible, he thought, and yet, he had no choice.

He looked again at the scroll on the table-the note that had been affixed to his door with a dagger. His dagger, that he had given Myrin the night before.

Shadow,

Rath is making me write this.

Come to the Grim Statue at midnight or he will kill us. Come alone.

He says he may just kill one of us and maim the other. He says you can pick. -E

Kalen ran his hand across his grizzled chin, thinking. Why had Rath spared him? And, above that, did Rath know he was Shadowbane?

The dwarf could be toying with him, but Kalen did not think that Rath was the sort to play games with his prey. He must have known Kalen was in the room, helpless and asleep. If he'd known Shadowbane slumbered nearby, he could have slain him easily, or awakened him so they could duel on the spot. And if he didn't know Kalen was Shadowbane, he would have had no hesitations about killing him in his sleep.