Eternal Skies

The sun began to set in the distance, slowly withdrawing the glimmering orange yellow blanket of light from the lands. Almost as an answer to this, the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky as the moon began to rise and take her seat across the heavens.

Xerath continued to look up into the eternal skies lost deep in thought and contemplation. He felt weary and tired and he was relieved to be resting on the grass atop the hill that evening along with his comrades. It had been a long journey; an epic one – of that there was no doubt, resulting in a lot of questions being answered a new ones being posed. But now was not the time to quest for those answers; it was a time of rest.

As he lay back on the grass, his legs outstretched before him, he focussed back on the area and the people around him. He felt her head resting on his thigh – she too was lying on the ground but had made herself quite comfortable by using him as a pillow. ‘Good old Imoen’ he thought to himself with a sigh. From the moment he had found himself alone and lost outside Candlekeep all those months ago, she had been by his side. She wasn’t his sister by blood but she meant just as much to him if not more than any sister, had he had had one, and with everything they had gone through, he knew she would follow him to the ends of the earth if that were what he chose.  She had been lured by the magical arts along her travels but she had not forgotten her old ways; the mage-thief was someone that always managed to get him out of trouble and for that he was very thankful. And with this being the last night that he and his comrades would be together, he was eternally grateful that Imoen had chosen to stay by his side.

He then focussed on the figure sitting just by him to his right; her delicate dark blue hand was touching his as she sat there with her legs crossed looking into the night. She worshipped the Goddess of the Night and maybe she was in commune with her goddess at that moment; the starlight seemed to twinkle creating a magical glow in her distant eyes. Her name was Viconia and she was a dark elf cleric – but she had become more to him than he would have dreamed. He didn’t regret saving her from the renegade flame fist guard for one moment but he wasn’t sure if the deep passion he felt for the beautiful blue skinned female would ever be reciprocated in any way. One thing was sure; she had saved his life more times than he could imagine and she had always been by his side when she didn’t need to be. Even though he would not admit it, Xerath had felt his heart shatter when Viconia revealed that she would be heading her own way after that night – it had been a long journey and she felt she needed to rest. She had been overwhelmed by the world outside the one in which she had been raised – the dark elven world, and after the adventures of the last few months, needed to get her bearings.

On his left stood a tall lithe figure, his arms crossed and his glimmering green eyes focussed into the distance. He was of elven blood, and he stood his cloak blowing in the breeze steadfast against the rising moon. His name was Kivan and his path had been one of vengeance; his love had been killed by a vicious half-orc and he had sought help from Xerath and his party. Since then, the two had become close friends and now with his mission completed, Kivan had decided to return back to his homeland and spend some time to honour his loved one’s memory. He would miss having the elven ranger by his side; his arrows had always been true as had been his heart.

By his left foot, a little distance away from the group, sat the dwarf Kagain. There were stacks of gold coins lying on the ground before him as he set upon the task of counting the money he had earned during the last few months. He didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he had been in it for the money but the truth was that the dwarf had felt a bond between him and the half-elf form over the period of time they had been together and had nothing to do with money. Kagain had been a little confused by this since most of the things in the world that he knew revolved around money but he was glad to make the friend and had decided to return back home and spend his riches and enjoy the good life for a while. Xerath had admitted to himself that while Kagain hadn’t been the nicest of people to have around, he had formed a kinship with him as well and he would miss having the tough fighter hacking away next to him.

Last but not least was the gnome. For once he was quiet and seemed to also be deep in contemplation but this was definitely a first. Quayle had been very annoying and irritating but at the same time had always been a reliable member of the group always ensuring that they got out of the frequent sticky situations that they seemed to get themselves into. His decision to also return home didn’t surprise anyone since the last few months must have been hard on the gnome but the fact that his path was going to take him the same way as Kagain shocked the hell out of the dwarf. Xerath actually feared for Quayle’s safety but then he also knew Quayle could handle himself if Kagain reached his limit and blew his top.

So it was revealed. He was the child of the God of Murder; the blood of the gods flowed through his veins. He could feel the desires and the cravings rush through his mind; ever since Viconia and Kagain, amongst others, had joined the group, the truth of the world had bugged him. Money, success, fame, sex, he could have it all and the truth was, even at this moment he sought the biggest prize of all – power. He was the child of murder but he had not forgotten his roots. Gorian had installed a set of ethics in him that he would never forget and even to this day, the cry of a helpless child or someone in need would tug at his heart and more often than not, he would be there, his magical hammer in hand. But at the same time, a number of situations had arisen where his blood had taken control and his urges had taken him the other way. They had been celebrated as heroes; there was no question but at the same time, they knew that they were also as ruthless as the villains themselves; sometimes being cold, unforgiving and downright vicious. No wonder their foes had been quaking in the boots. He even wondered if Imoen had been influenced by him; he had seen her mischievous smile change to a more sinister one more than once in their adventures and he felt himself to blame. But then his insides told him that it was a cold unforgiving world; being a goody-two shoe would never cut it. He knew what he was doing – he had been right to drop Jahira and Khalid back at the Friendly Arms Inn early on in their journey. They had been like parents constantly reminding him and nagging him to stay on the straight and narrow, as ‘Gorian would have wanted’. He had told them he couldn’t adventure with them because he ‘wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything happened to them because of him, much like what had happened to Gorian’; that had been a half-truth, he had been happy to have them out of his hair. Plus they had never approved of Viconia and that had made his blood boil.

Maybe Viconia was a bad influence on him; so was Kagain but he was just a comrade, Viconia had become something much more. And he ‘liked’ her influence; it made him feel alive. And he loved that evil feeling that he felt sometimes crawling across his skin when she would give him a wicked smile.

It was the final evening and who knows what the future might hold. The six of them had been a formidable team and had saved the lands from an evil threat – they had become heroes. But the question that needed to be raised was – had one evil been replaced by another one? Or would this child of the god of murder serve the forces of good instead?

The sun had completely set and the stars twinkled like gems across the night sky; a shooting star made its way across the sky leaving a trail of glimmering sparkles, its destination – unknown.

-----