The enormous statue, white marble gleaming in the light of the setting sun even through the wear of ages and the green vines wending across it's surface, was beautiful in despite it's simplicity. Beautiful, and unnerving, for it depicted a robbed, skull-headed figure holding a quill in one bone hand with a scroll of finely etched names that was nearly as long as the statue was tall.
Even if Shadowheart hadn't already told her about it, Ciri would have known that this was the statue of a death god, even if she wouldn't have any idea who it was specifically. Fortunately, her fellows were rather more local and rather more educated than she was.
"Gods, this…this is a temple to Jergal. The Final Scribe, The Lord of Bones, The Lord of the End of Everything." Shadowheart breathed, eyes wide and cheeks a bit paler than they had been not minutes ago, staring at the statue with a strange mixture of fear, awe, contempt, and respect. Gale groaned and rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Seeing Ciri's confused expression, Shadowheart explained. "He's the original God of Death, Ciri. Ancient and powerful. A thousand years ago, he forsook his throne to allow the Dead Three to split his domains between them."
"The Dead Three?" Ciri queried, and this time it was Gale who answered.
"Three adventurers, power-hungry monsters one and all, gathered a massive army in The Year of Sycophants. -357 DR. Together, they marched into The Gray Waste and stormed The Castle of Bone, eventually battling their way to Jergal's very throne room. Yet, before they could attack the God upon his Seat, he spoke to them. Offered to let one of them replace him, should they prove worthy. Long story short, Bane became God of Hatred, Strife, and Tyranny. Myrkul became God of the Dead. Bhaal became God of Death and Murder." He shook his head in dismay, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed, to Ciri's eyes, almost frightened. "Since coming to power, they've almost ended the world multiple times. Gods, its only been a century or so since Bhaal last made a mess of things."
"So, Jergal is…dead, now? Is that why his temple is empty and in ruins like this?" Ciri looked around, eyes coasting across the rest of the dimly lit room to catch on something lying on the ground beside one of the pews.
"No, not dead. He acts as Seneschal of the Dead, and though he no longer holds his domains, his power is not to be underestimated." Shadowheart denied, shaking her head and watching as Ciri started to make her way across the room towards whatever it was that she had seen. "Case in point, the preservation of this Temple. Over a thousand years without a worshipper or a blessing, yet it stands still. On the very edge of the sea, lashed by wind and wave and storm, it remains. And though that group from before hand managed to get inside, this room clearly hasn't been breached since this Temple was abandoned. Oh no, Ciri. Jergal might not still sit upon his Throne, but he is not dead."
"Unlike these poor fellows. Priests of his, do you think? I mean, they're dressed like Scribes, not what I often see Priests wearing, but you did call Jergal 'The Final Scribe'…" Ciri mused thoughtfully, crouching down beside what had turned out to be the skeleton of a tall man and examining him curiously. A glimmer of gold caught her eye, and she pulled a medallion out from the folds of the man's robes. "This would be his symbol, then? A skull with a scroll in it's mouth?"
"Aye, that's the one, all right. These must have been the few priests that remained behind to ensure that the temple was properly sealed and secured after Jergal gave up his mantle. The lingering divinity of the temple must have slowed their decay, even halted it, for these bones to be anything but dust after so long." Gale confirmed from where he was crouched and examining another corpse on the far side of the room, before looking up at the hanging braziers circling the room. Rising somewhat-smoothly upright again, he flicked his fingers several times, causing fire to bloom and brighten the room for what must have been the first time in centuries. "We ought to look around, carefully mind, and see what might be found. I don't know that I would risk taking anything from this place, unthroned god or not, but I certainly can't see him objecting over much if we were to copy any interesting records to take elsewhere."
"Hmph. If you wish to chase any scholastic endeavors of a god that abandoned his power and his place in the pantheon to a trio of selfish mortal brutes, the more power to you. I certainly shan't be helping you with any such scribbling." Shadowheart informed him from where she was rather briskly collecting anything of particular value that she could see, much to Gale's obvious disgust. Judging by her words and her earlier mix of emotions, Ciri was going to guess that she didn't think highly of Jergal for abandoning his divine rank. Which was odd, really, given how solemnly and seriously she had tried to impress upon Ciri the lingering power that Jergal still possessed.
Then again, Shadowheart seemed a mess of contradictions and oddities so far. Withdrawn but flirtatious, kind but cruel, invested yet apathetic. Not to mention the fact that she seemed, so far, to be a very good woman that nonetheless devoutly worshipped a goddess that was apparently responsible for literally uncountable deaths. Including other gods and entire fabrics of reality, if Gale was to believed, and Ciri wasn't so blinded by Shadowheart's beauty or their time together on the nautiloid to miss the fact that the cleric hadn't denied a single accusation Gale had leveled against her goddess.
Pushing such things aside, if only for the moment, with a tired shake of her head, Ciri got to her feet and dusted her pants off as she looked around the room again. A small staircase beside the effigy, seemingly curling behind it, drew her attention. A Blink of effort later and she was carefully ascending them, only to find herself confronted by a seemingly-purposeless dead-end. That was more than a little disappointing, at first, not least because it didn't make any sense. Why would this be here, it wasn't as if it was big enough to be some sort of sitting area or something. And the space didn't look right, there was more room behind the statue than was being taken up here…
Humming a song that she had learned purely because her father loathed it (or so he always said. Jaskier, Yen, and just about everyone else who knew him believed otherwise) to herself, she started inspecting the side wall carefully, running her hands over it slowly. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for, a small and distinctly unnatural divot in the stone that felt like it had a bit of give to it.
"Gale, 'Heart, come here a moment. I think I've found another hidden room, behind the statue." She called over her shoulder, turning away from the likely-switch to scrutinize the space around her for anything that might indicate the presence of any traps that the switch might instead be connected to. Shadowheart was quick to lend a hand when she arrived, with the admittedly less-than-skilled-at-trap-finding Gale staying out of their way.
Once they were all satisfied that the roof wouldn't come down on their heads, or something equally unpleasant and fatal, the trio exchanged glances and eyed the blank section of wall that they believed would reveal itself to be a hidden door.
"So, any idea what might be in there? Any predicted threats that we should concern ourselves with?" Ciri asked after a long moment, getting twin hums of thought from her companions.
"Well, after a thousand years, I can't imagine that we could have some nefarious beast or maddened priest lurking in wait. Divinely blessed or not, there is a limit to how long mortal creatures can last in such circumstances, no?" Gale responded first, stroking his bearded chin in a terribly stereotypical 'thoughtful intellectual' gesture.
"I have to agree. There could be traps, of course, but I don't think it particularly likely. Most places like this put their traps on the outside, in order to avoid accidentally killing an over-eager worshipper by surprising them from behind the secret door." Shadowheart agreed, scratching her cheek lightly as her eyes lingered absently on Ciri's profile. "Really, there shouldn't be anything to worry about. I'm sure it will be fine."
There was a long moment of silence before all three nodded resolutely in unison, Shadowheart and Ciri drawing their weapons while Gale began pre-Weaving a spell-work.
The disguised switch was depressed with a sharp, resonating click. The false wall receded and slid sideways with a quiet whisper of stone on stone, the mechanisms operating as flawlessly as they had on the day that they had first been installed, however many centuries ago. Something that should have been wholly impossible, but then again they had seen many strange, impossible things since entering this temple.
The newly revealed room was a small one, certainly when compared to the far larger room that had led them here, and it was made even smaller by the presence of the most dominating feature present: an enormous sarcophagus, beautifully carved and barely-touched by time, a large bronze plaque set into the stone of the dais it rested on. Indeed, the only features present in the room besides the sarcophagus were a trio of small stone loveseats and a pair of dusty vases sitting on cob-webbed shelves.
Oh, and the already lit candles lining the front of the dais.
"This is incredible. This room must have been sealed for centuries, at least, yet the air is perfectly safe to breathe, and the candles are burning! And the sarcophagus, it's in nearly perfect condition! Gods, I haven't seen on this fine and well-maintained in the great crypts of Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate! Whoever is buried here must have been of great importance. A high priest, perhaps, or a champion of Jergal?" Gale's excitement was palpable, the excitement of a scholar and academic making an incredible find, and despite her own nature and misgivings Shadowheart couldn't entirely blame him for that.
Especially not when Ciri looked just as excited as Gale did.
"It's certainly impressive. You wouldn't have found much like this back home, not after the wars, and especially not undamaged like this. I wonder if there's some sort of carving that could tell us who it was?" the other girl agreed whole-heartedly, stepping up onto the dais and reaching out towards the sarcophagus. Whether she intended simply to dust it off or something more, neither of her companions would ever know, because the moment her fingers brushed against the stone the world shifted.
The world, and the lid of the sarcophagus.
The candles lining the front of the dais flared green, tripling in size and writhing with a passion that had been absent in their previous dull orange glow, as the lid began to slide backward with the tell-tale grinding of stone upon stone. From within a withered hand and bandage-wrapped forearm appeared, long fingers pushing the massive, carved marble slab aside with an ease that seemed almost dismissive.
The lid crashed to the ground on the far side of the dais and, as Ciri and Gale retreated back towards Shadowheart, the sarcophagus' inhabitant rose from it's stoney embrace. And it did not rise as living men and women were wont to do, sitting up as if rising from a bed. No, it floated into the air, horizontal at first then twisting upright as it turned to face them, it's chin touching it's chest in some facsimile of sleep.
Then it's head rose, and Ciri swallowed heavily as dark, ancient, powerful eyes snapped open and locked onto her own from within aged, sunken sockets. Arms outspread, the creature floated towards her, arms spread wide and palms half-turned skyward as it descended towards the ground with a grace that would have been beautiful from less terrifying a creature.
By the gods of this world and her own, what had she gotten herself into this time?!
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Shadowheart couldn't breathe, the air stolen from her lungs and her blood frozen in her veins as the divine presence bloomed and blossomed, expanding and magnifying alike until it was more akin to the all consuming pressure found in the depths of the sea. Pressing against her from all sides, driving her to her knees, bowing her head and dropping her shoulders. It would be humiliating, if she had stood even the smallest chance of doing anything else, and she was absently pleased to see that Gale was little better.
Ciri, though…
Shadowheart could only stare in awe, in fear, in surprise and desire, as her silver-haired saviour simply stood there. So far as she could tell, Ciri's leg's were not even trembling. She was simply giving the floating, dessicated, robed and gold-adorned figure before them a hard look, a look that could even be said to border upon deadly. Yet before she could say anything, or perhaps do something worse like attack it, he (at least Shadowheart thought it was a he) drifted down to land as lightly as a feather on the stone floor and addressed her.
"So He has spoken, and so thou standest before me." He mused, his voice a refined one despite the slightly worn timbre to it, and Shadowheart shuddered faintly as the otherworldly echo that hung on every syllable. "Right as always. Hmm. What a curious way to be awoken. Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"
"I'm not answering any of your questions until you stop…doing whatever it is that you're doing to my friends. Unless you consider me planting my boot so far up your…" she responded, only to fall silent as his eyes briefly flared a bright, searing white.
"Thy affection and loyalty to thine compatriots is to be commended. Greater beyond measure than the last trio of mortal heroes that stood before me, wretched things that they were." He remarked as his eyes faded back to normal, or what passed for normal for whatever sort of undead he was, and Shadowheart couldn't stifle her gasp as the incredible pressure diminished to resemble nothing more than a light weight across her shoulders. She and Gale staggered to their feet as he continued. "The strength of thy soul, the resiliency of thy spirit…I can see why He permitted thee to be brought here. So, I shall as thee once again: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"
Ciri was silent for a moment, jaw working slightly in somewhat-cowed defiance and anger, but whether she recognized that the being before them was far beyond her or she saw that her companions had recovered, she didn't maintain her aggressive stance. Instead, she settled back ever-so-slightly onto her heels and posted her free hand on her hip.
"All lives have some value to them, I suppose. Everyone is loved by someone, everyone will be missed by someone." She started slowly, frowning in a consternation that Shadowheart honestly shared. She knew what her mentors would tell her, she knew the answer that her goddess would demand, but within the privacy of her own mind she wasn't sure how she would answer. "At the same time, I wouldn't dream of saying that the life of an innocent child is of equal value to that of a rapist."
She fell silent for a moment, before shrugging eloquently.
"I suppose the only real answer I can give is that every life has value, but some lives are more valuable than others." She finished, and he regarded her silently for a long, solemn moment before inclining his head in something that Shadowheart was pretty damn sure was approval.
"Thou answers not with rote belief, hollow and trained," and was it Shadowheart's imagination, or did his eyes cut towards her for a moment there? "but speak genuinely from thy heart. Hmm. Very well. I am satisfied, Little Swallow, as He said I would be. Now, thy face is known to me, and so I shall find thee when the time is right. For now, I bid thee and thine to leave this place. Find thy repose elsewhere in the temple if thou must, until daybreak comes once more and guides thee in safety to the devotees of Silvanus, but elsewhere it must be all the same."
His piece said, he stepped forward, bare, desiccated feet soundless on the ancient stone, his robes barely a whisper, and they parted before him like a crowd before a king.
"Gods…I've spent most of my life in Mystra's presence, but she never made me feel like that, like she could erase me like I could step on an ant. Even when I had earned her…well, suffice it to say that I've never felt anything like that. How about you, Sharran?" Gale breathed after a long moment, smoothing his immaculate hair down with a shaking hand, and Shadowheart's answering scoff was certainly far from strong.
"Do I look like a Dark Justicar to you, mage? Do you think I spend my time rubbing elbows with divinity?" she retorted, rubbing the back of her hand where her goddess' mark resided with an unconscious grimace of phantom pains. Left unmentioned, of course, was the fact that she had very little in the way of memories any longer. Even with all her attempts at note taking and her dear friend's help (what was that tiefling's name? She struggled to remember, these days…), the innumerable exposures to The Mirror of Loss had left her past fragmented at best. Though, admittedly, she couldn't imagine Lady Shar demanding that she sacrifice memories of them personally encountering one another. "Now come on. I don't know who or what that was, but his power is far beyond anything we could even dream of contending with, and he wants us out of this section of the Temple. I suggest we obey, quickly."
"No arguments from me. Come along, Ciri. Sheathe the sword of yours and let us depart while the departing is good, hmm? And perhaps while we walk you can tell us how it is that you remained entirely unaffected by the pressure of his presence?" Gale agreed, heading for the door with more haste than was strictly dignified. Shadowheart started to follow him, just as eager to be as far away as possible from the diving being as he was, but she paused as she noticed that Ciri wasn't following. Instead, the beautiful vampires was examining a small plaque at the base of the sarcophagus, running her fingers across its surface slowly, thoughtfully.
"Ciri? What is it?" she asked, curious despite her bubbling anxiety, and there was a moment of silence before Ciri sighed and shook her head, getting to her feet and turning towards her with an odd half-smile on her lips.
"Nothing, probably. I'll tell you later." She responded, before looping her arm through Shadowheart's and pulling her along. "Now, I don't know about you, but I feel a deep and abiding need for a decent night's sleep before we go wandering off into the wilds again, and that means you and I need to look for the best spot available before Gale can get his hands on it."
The idea of Gale getting the most comfortable spot (the term 'comfortable' being loosely defined under the circumstances, of course) would have been enough to put some pep into her step, but then Shadowheart took notice of the fact that Ciri had said 'spot' instead of 'spots'. The implication being that she and Ciri would be sleeping in close proximity to one another was an exciting one, and it was more than enough to ensure that their unified departure was a quick one.
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Watching the two girls leave arm in arm, both with slightly pinkened cheeks and bright eyes, the awakened entity that called itself Withers couldn't help but feel amusement. An emotion that he had not experienced in many centuries, but when he looked at them it was impossible to feel anything else. How could he not be amused by their shy, almost innocent affections for one another in such tumultuous circumstances? By Ao, both were fully aware that they had the eyes and the touch of gods upon them, though they did not yet recognize the enormity of the circumstances in which they had found themselves, and yet moments after meeting one such as himself they were fantasizing about each other with minds bent upon romance.
"Thou might as well show thyself, oh watcher, and introduce thyself properly to those who call this plane their own." He said once they were well and truly gone, speaking to seemingly nothing, yet despite the invitation of his words, his tone was one of command.
There was a moment of silence, of stillness and non-reaction, before the presence that clung to the young planes-walker bloomed into prominence before him, resolving itself into the figure of a brown-eyed bald man wearing a simple, dark brown tunic alongside yellow-white pants. Examining him with an arched eyebrow, or what passed for one when one no longer possessed eyebrows to arch, Withers considered the entity before him with eyes that saw the mortal and divine in equal measure.
"For what purpose have thou brought thyself here, deal-maker? This realm is not thine own, and it was not by thine own acts that the young Swallow has arrived hither. Yet here thou comest, wielding thine arts and influence against those that do not belong to thee." He remarked, and the interloper shrugged with a smirk.
"How could I not? Young Ciri's parents and their friends are some of my favorite mortals, so when beings from another plane spirit her away and infect her with some manner of parasite, I can hardly let things lie. Besides, this realm of yours is simply fascinating! So many interconnected planes, so many races, so many nations, so many gods! Far to interesting to ignore, and the entertainment to be gained by watching Cirilla make her way through it is impossible to replace." He responded almost gleefully, practically rubbing his hands together in excited anticipation. "The fact that the rest of your kin and your almighty Ao watch her with intentions and plans aplenty only makes it even more irresistible."
"Hmph. Thou art a strange and pitiable thing, but if Ao permits thine presence here, I shall not seek to contend with thee. Yet though shouldst know, deal-maker, that thou is permitted here only through His will. Tread lightly and avoid offending mine kinsfolk, lest thee find yourself the focus of their ire-born attentions." Withers sighed, starting to turn away from him with a frankly dismissive wave of one hand, before pausing and glancing back at him. "Be further warned that the young Swallow is no longer thine toy to play with at thine leisure and according to thy whims. As thou sayest, the eyes of the many and the mighty are upon her now, and meddling in the contests of divinity is a dangerous proposition."
A brief flex of his power, even as diminished as it was, was enough to make an impression upon the creature and send it scurrying back into Cirilla's shadow. Frankly, he did not know why Ao permitted it's interference here, but then the Overgod's will and purpose had been inscrutable to him far more often than it was clear. Even if it was an outsider, an interloper that was little more than a jumped-up devil in this realm, no matter how mighty he might be in his own.
He briefly considered the fact that his confrontation with the creature would lead to it attempting some foolish act of sabotage against the growing band of heroes, Cirilla not excluded, before dismissing the malformed concern. It had been wise enough not to meddle with Mystra's arrogant and foolish mortal, nor interfere overmuch in Shar's unfortunate puppet, nor even Vlaakith's unknowing slave. He would trust that it's greed and desire to indulge it's voyeuristic desires would keep it's pride and spite in check until the tables inevitably were turned upon it.
Besides, twasn't as if he wasn't going to be keeping a close personal eyes on the girl and her companions, even if he was not permitted to interfere in their journey outside of a certain, limited scope. A factor that the creature would be unaware of, and thus it would not dare try something overtly malicious before his very eyes.
Satisfied with the situation, the avatar of the once-god Jergal continued to inspect his fallen temple, collecting that which was of value that had been left behind when his devoted priests had left this realm to enter the City of the Dead.
If he was going to be honest, he felt something rather like anticipation at the idea of walking the mortal realm once more.
It had, after all, been a very, very long time.
"One wonders how long the children shall dance around one another before succumbing to their most obvious of desires. A wager with Sune, Shar, and Selûne, perhaps?" he mused thoughtfully to himself after a long moment, feet whispering against the stone as he walked. The Sisters of Moon and Shadow were already in contest with one another over the soul of Ciri's half-elven companion, and he had no doubt that Sune would enjoy the opportunity to support her friend and once-devoted servant against The Lady of Loss. Especially since this entire situation would appeal greatly to The Princess of Passion. "And the puppet's path will lead her directly to Selûne's childe and her beloved, shall it not? All the better for the wager, then, and all the more interesting a tale."
His ancient followers, his 'heirs' amongst the so-called Dead Three (worthless oafs that they were. The new Mystra was once mortal as well, and she had certainly proven far from being as incompetent as they!), and many of his fellow divinities would no doubt have been shocked to see and here the manifestation of Jeral humming almost cheerfully to himself as he went about his work, but none of them had spent millennia dethroned and locked away from both living mortals and the entertainment posed by their lives, had they?
Besides, every god wagered on the lives of their mortals and on the various events of the mortal realms, they could hardly begrudge him for doing the same when given the opportunity.