Legends of Belariath

Morrigan Steel

A Secret of Re-Forging Crystal Quest

In Search of KnowledgeDust fell from the parchment as it hit the floor with a slight clank before the Morrigan's feet as she searched among the library for scrolls that still needed transcribed for her work. "Interesting..." she mused as she picked up the parchment delicately lest it fall apart in her hands. By its coloration she could tell it was extremely old and long forgotten as it had lain in a small place beneath other scrolls upon the library shelves.

The paladin carried it to her desk, totally forgetting what she had originally come into the library for and gently began to unravel the delicate scroll there. She drew the lantern closer to read and thereupon revealed an ancient script she was unfamiliar with. Her gaze lifted from the mysterious find and she called to one of the many scribes that worked within Temple transcribing many such documents for the clergy. "Ducanis, come here please." she requested and waited till the old, wizened scribe reached her side and leaned to peer over her shoulder as she pointed to the document. "Do you recognize this language?" she inquired, her gaze lifting to his.

He scrubbed ink stained fingers in his whitish colored beard as he gazed at it thoughtfully for many long, long moments. The paladin was patient and simply waited for it was well known Ducanis was extremely knowledgeable but his pearls of wisdom were often very slow in their deliverance as he was quite a silent, thoughtful man. The elf then gave a soft snort. "Ain. That is the workings of one of their scrolls of one of their storytellers"

The paladin took a long, slow breath. Sometimes one had to -pull- those pearls a bit quicker. Patiently, she pressed. "Ain? What race is that?" The elf snorted again and straightened. "Morrigan, haven't you been learning and listening to me? My, you youngsters." came the indignant mutterings.

Softly, she took another breath, silently praying, 'Lord Abracus, give me strength." She then sat back and looked up, folding her hands in her lap. "Yes, m'lord, I have, but it has slipped my mind. With your indulgence, could you please refresh my memory?"

Ducanis gave an impatient wave of his hand. "Oh, alright. Ain is the ancient name for Torians." She fought to keep from slapping her forehead. "Oh, yes, I remember now. Can you give me a rough idea of what this about, or transcribe it for me?" her voice softened as it filled with gentleness, respect. "Please, Ducanis? You know how fond I am of the torian race. This could be important." The paladin felt that torians she had known didn't write things down lightly and so she made her request.

"Give me sometime, these things aren't done overnight, you know." Ducanis stated and reached for the scroll after it was rolled back up and offered to him. "Of course, m'lord. I am grateful you will undertake this for me and I shall bring you some tea and hot buttered biscuits from the kitchen later if you do this for me." The paladin smiled her usual, warm smile and Ducanis feigned a grumpy attitude and mutterings as he walked off, scroll in hand. "Bribe me with something new, child," he halfheartedly scolded. Morrigan gave a soft, musical laugh as he disappeared, knowing full well it was their usual banter and that he enjoyed the usual visits over tea and biscuits each evening as much as she did.

Weeks turned into a month, then a month turned into two, the paladin nearly forgetting the finding of the scroll when early one morning she was rousted from her slumber by a heavy handed knock at her door. "Dame Steel? Are you there?" came a deep voice from the other side of the door then a joust to her shoulder from Lyssara, who was twined just as she was within the furs. "If it's for work your doing it in bed today," came the wicked whisper from her lover. "Yes, I'm here. Just a minute.", her cheeks filled with the autumn shade of red as she scrambled from the bed and hurriedly wrapped her robe about her before answering the door, parting it just a bit to gaze at one of the younger scribes from the temple. He thrust a thick satchel within the crack of the door towards her.

"Sorry to disturb you but Master Ducanis said you would want this." Puzzled, she took it, thanking the ruddy looking young man. "Thank you." she slipped the young man a few coin, glimpsing a beaming smile spread across his handsome features before he scurried off. The paladin closed the door then walked to the window where dawn was just beginning to appear, casting the faint light of a new day across the bed and the naked dark elf that lay tangled within the furs. She opened the satchel and withdrew the sheaf of freshly inked parchments of the transcribed scroll.

Quickly she scanned Ducanis's note that reminded her this was the transcription from the Ain scroll and eagerly she skipped to about 20 sheets in, as Ducanis instructed her, by passing some of the earlier torian history. This was the part he felt would interest her. Green eyes scoured the neatly penned script as it revealed an ancient tale...

And so it was, the end of the Fallen War, when Toria was destroyed and rained upon the ground for miles, spreading the last of its riches for miles as it disintegrated. Bits of the sky kingdom littered the ground, full of riches and broken particles that were blasted asunder during the war between the uprising torians against the inner sanctum of Toria Castle, which housed their gods. Like fall leaves caught in a maelstrom, countless torians spiraled to the grounds below where the races they had looked down upon for so many years lived.

Many were killed, injured and scattered to and fro as Sazera and Maedel cast the Ain, the Torians from their home amid the clouds for the price of their arrogance. The skies grew dark, clouded and thick heavy drops rained upon broken forms. It was said the goddess Maedel cried those tears, some falling upon shards of crystals that came from the sky lands.

As with any disaster it brings out the best, and the worst. And now appeared the worst as scavengers began to roam through the littered miles in search of riches that were out of reach before. One such scavenger was a human warrior of dark intent who picked his way through the debris atop his horse, taking what he could and stealing from those injured he came across. If they resisted then they fell to his ruthless blade. His name as handed down from the ages was Sinter.

Sinter reached the crest of a small hillock and gazed upon a small field strewn and dotted with multicolored crystals and a rich patch of nearly pure black rarer crystals. Some were shattered while stronger, larger ones were imbedded or jutted from the rubble. His eyes grew wide as saucers and here he decided to stake his claim and set about to hoarding what he could.

Sinter spent the next few days scouring the field to gather rough gems, crystals, bits of gold and other raw minerals when he came across a wounded torian. He grinned cruelly and was about to end the man's life for the few meager possessions he carried when a sharp voice stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if I was you."

Sinter turned to see an elven woman before him with her bow drawn and aimed upon him. "You have no right. I have claimed this for myself." The dark man with a dark code of his own twisted honor advanced upon her in an attempt to close the distance and take what he felt was his, when he was cut down by an arrow through the heart. He had bet the woman would loose her nerve, but Sinter had bet wrong that day, and so he died among the field of riches that day. His death was the seed that perpetrated the fact, or myth as some claim, that any crystal mined from that field bode not only the curse of Sazera and Maedel, but a darker taint as well. Only those of the same dark hunger seemed able to wield anything crafted from the minerals there.

The beautifully sculpted elven woman of light complexion and hair like spun raven colored silk made for the wounded torian, war bow slung over her shoulder. She knelt besides the bluish winged being and set about to roughly field dress his wounds as he slipped in and out of consciousness. When he woke later he found himself in her encampment amid towering chunks of shards of the sky kingdom and torn earth several miles distant from where he had been.

Propping himself upon his elbow the torian looked the elf over as she was preparing a stew over a fire. "My name is Jaien.", his voice cracking. Quickly she looked up and made for him, water skin in hand and bowl of stew with a wooden spoon in it. She knelt beside him as she offered the items. "And I am Moon's Shadow."

Weeks later, after much nursing from Moon's Shadow, Jaien was finally restored to health. The two became close, Jaien being one of the innocents that had suffered during the destruction of home in the skies. While his body was whole, his spirit suffered and it was said he never flew again. Whether it was from some unknown injury to his marvelous wings or to his spirit, it was never spoken of.

From arrogance and disaster came renewal as the cycle of life continued. As the years passed and the torn earth healed, settlements formed and one in particular spawned by the bonding of Jaien and Moon's Shadow made rich by the influx of travelers and other survivors from the rain of death from the skies. There were many races from the sky kingdom and those that had survived when the rain of stone came down upon them.

About then as the paladin began to look over the description of the location when an arm curled about Morrigan's waist from behind and a silken voice full of wicked intent caressed her ear. "Bed, now Ashke." The blond knew better than to argue with her ebon skinned lover as she was drawn back to bed, the parchments lay upon the edge of her desk. Sunlight began to stream within across the parchment and twined lovers in the bed beyond.....

Days later, as dawn again broke, its bright beams again streamed over the paladin and her lover as they rode northwest to search for the area described in the scroll. The paladin, of course, entertained little hope of success as the landscape surely had changed in all these many years since the Fallen Wars but her insatiable curiosity spurred her forth.

The pair encountered few obstacles along the journey northwest as they traveled well into a week. Just as the days in the saddle seemed like they couldn't get any longer the countryside began to grow more rugged, the landscape, though smoothed over the passing of time, grew jagged. Eerily scarred obsidian like shards loomed before them in a random pattern and blended into other colored boulders.

The paladin stopped Ehleannur, her large stallion, and dismounted. Reigns in one hand she scooped up a bit of the stony dirt and looked through it. "What did you find, Ashke?" Lyssara asked as she stopped her own smaller steed, Vengengance, near Morrigan. The paladin held up her hand showing Lyssara her 'find'. "Appears like this suffered a great heat.", she remarked about the light blue nearly white gem that seemed laced with fine mithril like weaved strands once the dirt was cleaned from its rough surface. "If this came from Toria perhaps the destruction caused this.", she mused. Out of such doom came such ironic beauty. "It's lovely.", Lyssara remarked as the paladin pocketed the small gem for later study. The paladin nodded and mounted back up on her horse as the pair again rode deeper into the debris.

Towards evening, as the pair was setting up camp within the torn land the sound of wings beating the air reached their ears as the horses snorted nervously. Shapes loomed in the twilight as they dropped from the skies upon them. The pair didn't even have a chance to try reasoning or negotiations before they were attacked. Lyssara and Morrigan defended themselves skillfully but even skilled warriors can be overwhelmed and contained by the dozen or so torians that had dropped upon them. Their gear was searched and strewn about and the paladin earned a few broken ribs for the single gem she had picked up earlier in the hopes of studing it when she returned to Nanthalion and her work. The horses were freed and chased and the pair left for dead when the group was through with them, broken battered, used and left to die as the night grew cold.

Visions danced before the paladin's eyes when she last came around. An ancient elven woman bent over her, speaking in a tongue she didn't quite understand and framed by a brilliant faceted backdrop. So brilliant, in fact, the paladin had to keep her eyes closed. It was only after a few days and Lyssara's extensive knowledge of several languages they were able to piece together their rescue and transport deeper into the jagged, mountainous countryside and to the hidden crystal city. In fact, the location turned out to be secret and once there, one did not leave unless by death or by blindness. Even a paladin's word was not enough...the location was not to be known.

The days grew long and both slowly recovered. Undaunted, Morrigan strove to pick up some of the tongue, though it was harder for her as languages were not her forte...but she had to do something to satisfy that inner drive of constantly feeling the need to be productive...to -do- something, anything. On one such restless afternoon she unwrapped her damaged crystal sword that had remained upon her god's altar, untouched, for sometime and found it had been further damaged and discarded during the raid upon their encampment.

She held the uneven arcing chipped and dented blade on open palms as she tried to surmise ways of repair, though in her heart she knew it wasn't so - not by any means she knew of. Then she realized...she couldn't remember the magicks necessary to even forge crystal. It had always been difficult, to twine the intricately complex earth magics while cutting and fashioning the crystals...but now she found it impossible. She was distraught. Had her god removed the knowledge for the death of the sword? She knew not, just that it was fading!

The glint of the sword caught the eye of one of the dwarves that lived within this small hidden crystal city and he came over to the paladin as she sat before the small cave that she and Lyssara had been given to live in since they weren't allowed to leave the mountain city. "Where did you get that?" the red headed stocky built dwarf asked, in rough common. It seemed they could pick up her language faster than she could theirs.

"Nanthalion, the town located south of here, where I am from. It was a gift from a dear friend shortly after I became paladin." she held it up to him. The stocky dwarf, whom she discovered was named Ristolf, eyed her, then the blade. "How did it break?" Ristolf asked. She then related the story of the staves and how the sword was damaged during the staves' destruction before Mel was finally able to reach them with an axe since they themselves could not find another means to destroy them. His eyes parted wide. "The time of storm, new star {pink moon} and magic's return?" The paladin nodded. "Though the magic didn't come back all at once...but yes. Magic came back...but I have dishonored the blade. It no longer works and I can't remember quite how to go about fixing it. I do know though, I need heat akin to that of which is within a dragon's belly." She began to wrap it up in the soft fur.

"Wait. It not dishonored. It needs rebirth!" he snorted. "Rebirth?" the paladin asked, looking up to him from the rock she had sat upon before the cave. "Yes, yes. Rebirth! You did great thing, I show you." his head bobbed up and down. Her cheeks turned autumnish. "No...I didn't do a great thing and not alone...there were others that helped too. I just did what had to be done." The dwarf motioned for her to follow and so she did as he lead her away from the cave and pointed up towards the next mountain...the one they had called Smoking Top. It just seemed to always give off a continual wisp of smoke, but nothing ever came of it. "You, climb there, toss sword into it, then we search the sacred field of crystals. Climb alone." she quirked a brow. "When?" she asked. "Now. Go now. Seek voice of god while you are there." he pointed a thick finger at the mount again. "Go." she glanced back..."I should tell Lyssara .." she began before she was stopped at his push to her arm. "Now. I tell her. Go."

She wondered what the urgency was but if it was that important she decided to take the risk. Lyssara would tan her bottom, she was sure, but Ristolf was too insistent and speaking so fast in his native tongue she couldn't understand him...so off she went. The climb took a good portion of the day and was extremely rugged, the path upwards rocky and slippery, but she made it. Her hands cut and sore from gripping rocks in the climb, but at last she was at the peak and looking down into the mountain. It appeared to have a fire in its belly that just eternally burned. She stood along the rim and watched it awhile, then removed the damaged sword and removed it from the hilt. That she tucked back into her cloak thinking to fit it to a future blade. The broken blade was held skyward upon her uplifted palms as she prayed, then she tossed it down within the belly of the mountain. Soon the glint of shining silver pierced the molten pool then was gone. There was no voice of god...nothing. Just emptiness. The paladin sank to her knees to rest, her gaze now turned outwards to look over the panoramic view below her. So many different colors abounded from the richness of the crystal city.

"~Why have you come...? ~"came the still voice. It came from above, from the side, from below; in back of her...it was all over. Like a sweet soft chime on a summer breeze. "I've come to rebirth the sword. I mean no harm."

"~Why did it die..?~"

Came the soft sigh of the wind, of the clouds, of the nature about her. "To stop the sure destruction of a world...our world, your world....their world." she jabbed a finger down towards the crystal city that lay below.

~-What do you offer to Rebirth it..?~"

The paladin blinked. An offering? Well...that made sense, if this was a god. "What would please you?" she asked.

"~What do you offer...? ~"

Came the wispy echo, from all around. She had so little left resource wise to give. Her mind raced...she had to give something...but what? "You work in a temple...think, Steel!" mentally scolded herself. The crystals came from the sky, possibly even from the torian gods themselves, imbued with their magic which gave torians an affinity to wield them. The divine magic that flowed through paladins, and their darker counter part, dark paladins, seemed to give them an affinity too...but what would please this god? Then the thought of Lyssara's gift when she was restored and she smiled. That was it! She spread her hands wide and rose slowly to her feet. "I present my offering...may it please thee."

Her clothes pooled about her as they were discarded, then her voice lifted in an ancient human song of praise she had learned when she first started her clerical studies. She twined it with soft arcane words of a fly spell...and to the sky she went. Song and dance, as gracefully as she could muster, filled with wonder and praise, the light of the fading day reflecting beautifully off her naked form as it weaved in the air in an imitation, a mimic, of some of the torians' maneuvers she had witnessed before. With a final twist in the air she came to the ground on bended knee, arms again spread to either side as her shoulders rhythmically moved as she caught her breath, head bowed. Had it been enough?

Minutes past, and still the paladin stayed knelt on a bended knee. Her flesh began to rise in goose bumps along her shoulders when a soft cold touch traced over her bare shoulder. She began to lift her head when a hand was placed to it, from the corner of her eye she saw what appeared to be a white crystal being trailed along her flesh. She said not a word as she was pressed face down to the ground, the coolness of the crystal absorbing her warmth, then grew hotter as it was pressed to her spine, the Unseen One covering her and the crystal. It felt more of a man than of a god, his touch, yet she dare not defy him, it, if it was a god.

Flesh became searing yet remained cold as ice as arcane words, words of power, where caressed over her ear. "~Vrin'klatu d' siltrin, vrin'klatu d' khaliizi, cleave tau uss unto l' byr.~" {Essence of flesh, essence of stone, cleave thee one unto the other.--offshoot of Life Transfer} A moment of pain and a vague loss of something that made her almost nauseous as everything about her became surreal...a portion of her essence binding into the crystal and filling it with a strange life.

The Unseen One claimed more of the paladin in the working of the magic then coolness washed over her in his parting from her flesh, the crystal remained upon her. The whispering voice spoke one last time..."~Offering accepted. Heed the crystal's call...heed the crystal's call....~" and the small, gnarled figured, the Unseen One, vanished before the paladin could catch a glimpse.

Quickly she sat up and dressed, taking the lovely crystal that had been left behind. It was like something she had never seen before...it seemed filled with a cloudy substance that followed her finger if she stroked it, or rested at the bottom if she laid it upon her palm. It was then she noticed the scroll that lay near her side with a seal upon it. Strange a 'god' would have a seal...she thought. But she broke it open and looked it over...but it was in a language she didn't know. So she tucked it in tunic and the crystal within her pouch and began to climb down, hoping to arrive before total darkness.

She had only made it half way down when darkness fell and cold began to set in, so the paladin, being human and with limited sight made ready to spend the night on that treacherous path. She hunkered down and wrapped her arms about herself in preparation of a long, cold night alone when a voice shimmered around her..."Did you really think I would let you go off alone, Askke?"

The paladin's head shot up..."Lyssara! I'm so glad you have come. I can't see to go on and didn't want to fall and break my neck." Lyssara's laugh flowed about her, but there was a bit of scolding in her voice. "Then it's good I have come to retrieve my girl. Come. I shall punish you when we reach the cave." Lyssara took the paladin by the arm and lead her down the mountainside towards their 'home'.

It took days, then weeks, of research and talking with various elders and smiths before Lyssara and Morrigan were able to piece together a good portion of the scroll. The dwarf, Ristolf, continued to help what he could, so when they finally unlocked the scroll Morri felt they should share the ancient knowledge within that had been long forgotten.

Hurriedly, they searched out Ristolf and found him at the edge of the mining fields as they prepared to head into the field with their gang saws to extract their daily find of minerals that had become their livelihood. Every month a few trusted individuals ventured forth with what they had mined and sold them in exchange for goods before returning to the hidden city.

Excitedly, Morrigan pulled him aside while Lyssara watched skeptically. "Look! Here is what we think it means!" she thrust the parchment towards him with the translation. Ristolf quickly read it.

"Plynn yea l' valbylis khaliizi lu' lash ol pholor l' crux d' natha freshly hewn Y dal natha ssinjin birch. Ori'gato l' tela lu' khaliizi mrigg yea ulu yea counterpart. Ragarrl whol l' in'loilfrey a l' field d' vassntin rememberance. Vel'drav yea inbal muth l' in'loilfrey yea inbal draa tangin tlu finding l' Elemmiire Carver. Vel'drav yea ragar Elemmiire Carver, tlu sweeping ol clean xuil l' following magicks."

"Dal har'dro ulu rah ulu aeros, ulu usst solen reveal elakar inner core."

"Natha faerl field d' diamond zhal burnish yea in'loilfrey clean lu' orior ol whol l' huthin wlalth. Telanth yea nindol huthin, lu' post haste!"

"Ulu usst solen tlu granting l' belbol d' seke seeing d' yea form. Ori'gato l' morn'lo d' natha maelthra's breath sune yea while yea inner form zhah carved duul'sso. Dal l' grains dal l' Anulo, forged tu'jol l' dhyn coil. Ori'gato l' arc tu'fyr oloth lu' ssussun ann'ish!"

"Burnish yea velve xuil l' maelthra's breath {molten}. Ka yea tlu ssussun, craft ol wun l' ssussun lu' yea velve zhal tlu fridj. Ka yea velve zhah whol uss d'lil isto {olath}, craft ol a l' height d'lil drathiren. {Alantha.}

"Tlu polishing yea velve carefully xuil uss handful ruby powder, ula grit diamond ulu llar aglusten niar lu' soap. Sei'lor yea blad ulu ol's hilt, weight ol al. Tis jal."

TRANSLATION

{Take yea the binding stone and lash it upon the crux of a freshly hewn Y from a sweet birch. Let the tip and stone guide yea to yea counterpart. Search for the shard at the field of innocents remembrance. When yea have found the shard yea have two days to be finding the Star Carver. When yea find Star Carver, be sweeping it clean with the following magicks.}

{From earth to hand to air, to mine eyes reveal thy inner core.--combination of Rock Bolt, Rock Dagger, Teleknsis.}

{A magical field of diamond shall burnish yea shard clean and prepare it for the next spell. Speak yea this next, and post haste!}

{To mine eyes be granting the gift of true seeing of yea form. Let the heat of a dragon's breath warm yea while yea inner form is carved free. From the grains from the sky, forged beyond the mortal coil. Let the arc {crystal sword} between darkness and light appear!--combination of Discern Ailment, Molten and temporary enhanced vision through Star Craft as it's held to one's eyes.}

{Burnish yea blade with the dragon's breath {molten}. If yea be light, craft it in the light and yea blade shall be just. If yea blade is for one of the night {dark}, craft it at the height of the moons. {Midnight.}

{Be polishing yea blade carefully with one handful ruby powder, fine grit diamond to three parts water and soap. Set yea blade to it's hilt, weight it well. Tis all.}

END TRANSLATION

Ristolf's red eyebrows shot up in excitement and he went for his elder who allowed Morrigan and Lyssara to go with the team into the field before Smoking Top, though their ankles were shackled and weapons and armor left behind. With the crystal lashed to the birch, Morrigan shuffled through the field, hour after hour till the tip pointed downward and seemed to be almost glued to the dirt. She was then chained by her waist to a rock to free up her ankles while she dug, the team working near by with the gang saws at an exceptionally mineral rich boulder, cutting forth the rough gems. Lyssara occasionally offered Morrigan a ladle of water from one of the water buckets, but Morri refused to let her spell her. This was something ~she~ had to do.

Two days of shoveling within the fresh deposits from Smoking Top finally revealed a most ugly four foot long rough boulder approximately a foot around. Morrigan felt ...exhaustion in every limb and soreness she didn't know was possible, yet the paladin was overjoyed. Lyssara helped her lover carry the heavy stone, at times both dragging it, back to the city and their cave.

The next day found them searching for Star Carver in the same manner she searched for the rebirthed crystal, beneath the field of innocents capped by the smoke from the mountain. Midway through the second day the branch lead her between two large boulders about the size of six horses standing shoulder upon shoulder, the branch tugging towards a pile of fresh rough gems. "Odd...a new pile.." she thought. The day was hot, heavy and the miners took long breaks as sweat poured down their backs.

The clink of her shackles hid the hiss of scale upon stone but the shadow that suddenly loomed over her and the splash of searing moisture on her shoulder caused her to look up....up into the open, dripping maw of a wyvern that had been sunning itself on the rocks. A roaring hiss and it leaped at the paladin, deadly talons extended. Instinctively her hand lanced upwards as arcane words leaped from her lips,"Flasmix b'luthel, zotreth!"

The powerful Energy Bolt caught the beast just below his jaw, removing his head from his neck as neatly as a knife through hot butter. The paladin was showered in blood as talons pinned her to the ground, the body pinning her. Instantly she heard the sounds of dwarves and Lyssara trying to get to her as the dying wyvern lashed atop her then off against the boulders. Shock kept her from feeling the horrid wounds as she grasped the broken branch and scooped up the black six to eight inch silver speckled rock it had been pointing out to her before the wyvern attack.

"Jagged tooth has at long last died!" came the cry of the dwarves as they rejoiced at the death of their long feared predator of the fields. "Will she live?" a younger dwarf asked ...so many voices and hands grasped at the pierced body of the golden haired warrior.

The paladin watched as Lyssara stabbed the monstrosity over and over to assure its death, then ran to her lover and took her within her arms. Lyssara shielded Morrigan from the men then cleansed her wounds. It was then the inspiration came, after the Lay on Hands swept through her, sealed the wounds beneath her tunic and kept her from bleeding out upon the hot, rocky ground totally. Hurriedly she whispered to Lyssara as she stuffed the rock and crystal from the birch into her tunic.

"I shall pretend to be near death. Take me back to the cave and when all is quiet, we shall make good our escape as they will think I am too wounded to move. Surprise shall be our advantage." Lyssara gave a wicked grin then played the distressed lover's act very well. Morrigan was counting on them not realizing the extent of her abilities or noticing the grievous wounds were no more beneath the tattered tunic, for she had used very little of her healing abilities about their captors.

The dwarves helped Lyssara carry the 'near dead' paladin back to their cave...and when darkness fell, the pair slipped away with the crystal, star carver and a copy of the magical scroll and made good their escape from the hidden city...leaving behind nothing but a note.

"To Ristolf and the Elders,

Please do not hunt us. We shall never reveal the secret of your city, but forgive us, for we cannot stay here. Our lives are meant to be lived elsewhere; my god calls me to other duties.

To come for me, for us, would anger him.

Keep the ancient secret, and prosper from it as payment for your trouble. It too, shall remain with me.

We shall take special care to hide our passage, from you, and from those that might trace it back to you. On this you can be assured."

'Steel'

A month later the morning broke brightly across the twined forms of two lovers, at last safe in their cabin home...

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