Lord of Spells from Faerûn

The castle, the Temple of Torm, and other areas not protected by the walls were swept by fire, and the earth became scorched black. The water in Dragon Bay began to boil. The Zhentil army's fleet exploded under the attack of tongues of fire. Bane's army instantly Turn into ashes.

On the north bank of the city, the bodies of two saints lay on the rocky ground. Bane's obsidian statue was broken into more than a dozen pieces, and his head lay quietly a few yards away from the body. Only the remains of the golden statue of the God of Duty were left. The proud lion's head was twisted and deformed, and its soulless eyes stared at the battle between the two gods' spirits over the coast.

Thom detonated the power of all the souls in the soul. He couldn't bear to see the terrible consequences of the explosion of himself and Bane. He wanted to completely eliminate each other!

The soul power detonated by Tom also triggered the soul in Bane's body. The souls of the believers they released formed a vortex in the air, dragging the spiritual bodies of the two gods upward, and it brought the two lights that were once gods The package began to emit dazzling light.

The crimson spiral mist was once the heart of Bane, the god of strife and tyranny, and the amber glow belonged to the soul of Torm, the god of duty and loyalty. They met in the vortex and emitted a harsh scream.

"I!! I will never perish!!!!"

That was Bane's last cry before he fell into eternal silence, echoing high in the sky of Tanris. The sound stopped, and the gods' spirits were finally swallowed up by the whirlpool, ending their lives completely.

The deaths of Bane and Torm left a large crater in the north of Tanreth, where the castle of Tarim and the Temple of Torm once stood. The rocky shores of Dragon Coast are now as smooth as glass, and most of the nearby cliffs have disappeared. The textures of gold, red, black, blue and silver still stay on the bright coast and broken rocks, intertwining wonderful patterns. Whenever a wave sweeps over, it will take away some fragments of the saint's body.

At midnight, Kelanvor helped him out of the bell tower on the top of the tower. Elminster smiled and said, "I knew you could do it."

"How much do you know about my power?" Midnight asked softly.

"Ever since the first day you appeared in Shadow Valley, I have doubted your abilities. But as to the nature of your powers, or what you will do with them in the future, I can't help." Elminster Smiled, "I think Mystra has given you a blessing. Maybe the Mages Council of Waterdeep City will be willing to listen to your story and give you some guidance. If you are willing, I can introduce you..."

"Oh, regarding this, if you need to come to Waterdeep, I can help you arrange everything." Imrik interjected with a smile.

Midnight was stunned and asked: "Is the second stone of destiny really in Waterdeep City?"

The old sage touched his beard and said, "Yes, as for where exactly it is, I don't know."

"I know." Midnight whispered, "I will go. It shouldn't be more difficult than finding the first piece."

Midnight put a cloth bag carrying a slate on his shoulder. It was the first tablet of destiny. Through the bag, Imrik did not sense any magic light. He glanced at the bag subtly, and that was it. The culprit who caused this catastrophe.

"Yes," Elminster smiled, "It is difficult, but it is by no means out of reach." He turned his back to the mage and looked in the direction of the city, "But we can continue to discuss it later, something wrong happened. "

Midnight raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong?"

The old sage muttered something and stared blankly into the distance.

"There's something wrong here," he said to himself again, and took out his pipe.

"I think this has become a dead magic zone," Imrik replied in a clear voice. "Any magic-related items will not be effective inside, and even mages will be affected."

Yes, Imric sensed it immediately. Perhaps it was because the magic network collapsed too completely. Tanris's magic network has completely dissipated. If the goddess of magic is still there, maybe she can weave magic here again. net.

"How is this possible?" Midnight straightened up, "Isn't the magic network covering the entire country?"

Elminster sighed, put away his pipe and said, "Maybe it used to be,"

"But it will be different after the night falls. Maybe the gods who died here tore a big hole in the magic network, or maybe the chaos of the country is dismembering the magic network itself."

"Yes," said the sage, "some are much more serious than here."

Looking back at the ruins at midnight, his eyes revealed fear. "Can the magic network still be repaired?" she asked softly.

Elminster looked away and did not answer her question. Mystra can certainly be repaired if it's still around, but...

A trace of sorrow flashed in the eyes of the old sage, and the memory of the goddess before her death was still fresh. The eternal magic web lost its weaver, and everything was different.

Midnight sighed, resisting her fate for the first time. Her unpredictable destiny had brought about so much death and pain.

The female mage gently looked at her wheat-colored right hand, which was the hand that rang the bell just now. At that moment, the power of the goddess followed her hand and touched the inside of the bell, and she was able to successfully ring the bell.

"I'm afraid it's time for me to leave. There are some things I need to deal with. Let's meet again in Waterdeep City." Elminster waved and said, his figure walking farther and farther under the sunset.

Imrik looked at Midnight and Kelanvor and said, "In that case, let me take you to Waterdeep City."

The three of them climbed on their mounts and ran into the distance together.

Before leaving, Midnight stared at the wreckage of the Zhentil Keep battleship on the shore of the dragon coast for a long time, and murmured: "Cyric, are you still alive?"

"You're still alive, I just know it." Midnight said to herself.

"He won't live much longer," Kelemvor growled. "I will find him soon." He pressed his hand to the scabbard.

There was a hint of anger on Midnight's face, "You should give him a chance to explain—"

"No!" the warrior roared, turning his back to Midnight.

"There's no way he in the Zhentarim was just faking it. You have no idea how surprised he was when he found out I survived the trap, or how happy he was when he saw my wounds!"

Kelanvor said viciously, remembering that when he was chasing Cyric, the other party used a trap to try to kill him.

"You misunderstood him," Midnight closed her eyes in pain and said coldly, "You don't understand Cyric at all."

"I know that beast better than you do!" Kelemvor turned around, his green eyes burning with anger, "Maybe you will be deceived by his lies, but I learned long ago not to trust him. The next time we meet, one of us will definitely fall."

There was silence at midnight. She climbed on her mount and left without saying a word. Imric and Kelanvor had no choice but to follow behind. Kelanvor, who was angry, did not want to speak, and the journey became strangely quiet.

On the other side, a small black boat on the coast of the dragon. Cyric was crossing his legs and staring at the horizon. The sky in Faerûn had been dyed blood red by the setting sun.

"Don't stand in my way, please, Midnight, Kelemvor." A tear flowed from the corner of Cyric's eyes, "No one can stop me from being free."