Lord of Spells from Faerûn

Imrik and the others passed through the desert and through the forest full of sycamore trees, and finally arrived in the Sword Coast area after more than ten days' journey, where they rested for a day in a village.

They arrived at the village called Evening Star Town just before dusk, and the farmers had already lit oil lamps in the windows of their houses.

The three of them randomly found a hotel and stayed there. In the middle of the night, Midnight, who had fallen asleep, quietly woke up and came to the corridor of the hotel.

The moonlight is beautiful tonight, but the mood at midnight is clouded. In fact, since the night when the gods came, there has never been a day without deep pressure at midnight.

Just when she was about to go to the lobby to order a glass of wine to help relieve her tense nerves, she saw a figure.

The oil lamp hanging above the stairs illuminated the corridor, and the dim light reflected a person standing at the top of the stairs, waving to the waiter to leave, with his other hand hidden under a dark cloak that was still dripping. He turned slightly sideways and looked at the corridor. There was a jet black dagger at his waist, and his aquiline nose was particularly conspicuous in the dim light.

Cyric! Midnight's heart pounding with joy and worry, she walked into the hall, just as the thief turned to meet her, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Cyric!" she whispered, walking towards him. "It's so nice to see you!"

"You - well, I'm glad to see you too," Cyric said, taking his hands out from under his cloak.

"Why are you here?" Midnight asked, taking his arm and leading him slowly down the corridor. Their conversation would be less likely to be heard there, and she didn't want to wake Kelemvor and Imrik.

"I feel like someone is always watching me along the way, is it you?" Midnight asked.

Cyric nodded and said, "You should arrive at Waterdeep City as soon as possible."

Midnight became serious: "Why? Is there any danger?"

Cyric frowned, then smiled: "Bane is not the only one of the three unknown gods. Baal, the god of murder, is coming."

"Where is Melkor?" A sudden voice interrupted them. Cyric turned his head sharply and saw the silver-haired mage looking at them quietly.

"Mr. Imric." Cyric's eyes were wary. The mage in front of him was the most powerful mage he had ever seen, and according to the intelligence of the spies recruited by his Zhentarim, the other party also had the ability to cast spells normally. ability.

"Is there no movement from Melkor? As far as I know, the source of Bane's power is provided by Melkor's ritual." Imrik asked again.

Cyric shook his head slightly and said: "I don't know. Melkor's traces are too difficult to trace. My men have no news at all."

Imric glanced vaguely at the dagger at Cyric's waist. The dagger did not have any magic aura, but it made Imric feel something was wrong. The smooth surface seemed to be natural, without any magic aura. Every trace of artificial forging is like an obsidian shaped like a dagger.

Midnight on the side asked with some worry: "If you are here to rejoin us, you must be careful, Kai has not forgiven you yet."

Cyric quickly retracted his hand, "That's not what I meant, I came to find you." He said, "And the stone slab."

"You want me to give up-"

"They can't protect you," Cyric snapped, "but I can."

Midnight shook her head, thinking of Kelemvor: "I can't," she said, "I won't."

Cyric looked at her angrily: "Think again! Don't you realize the power you have?"

Midnight shook her head again: "I have lost the goddess's necklace."

"With the slate, we can even become gods!" the thief interrupted loudly.

Midnight felt uncomfortable, something seemed wrong with Cyric.

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "This is blasphemy!"

"Blasphemy?" Cyric laughed, "To whom? The gods are here, tearing the kingdom apart in search of the Tablet of Destiny. Our only god should be ourselves, no one can decide my fate, Cyric !”

"No." Midnight took a step back.

Cyric grabbed her arm. "The gods are following you. Just two nights ago, the god Baal slaughtered three of my best men. You don't want to know the details of their deaths."

His pupils seemed to turn red for a moment. "If Baal wanted to stay for another day or two, he could kill me and everyone else." The thief continued, "But he didn't. Do you know why?"

There was no response at midnight.

"Do you know why?" Cyric repeated, grabbing her arm harder. "Because Baal wants you and the Tablet! You'll never get to Waterdeep, and he'll capture Kelemvor and kill him in ways you can't imagine!"

"No," Midnight freed her arm, "I won't let him do that."

"Then come with me," Cyric insisted. "This is your only chance."

"She won't go with you!" came an excited voice. Kelanvor was staring at Cyric, holding his hands tightly.

"Come on!" Midnight said, pushing Cyric up the stairs. "Kai will kill you."

"Or I will kill him." Cyric said, and drew his weapon. The blade of the dagger glowed with red luster, and Imric felt an extremely thick and sacred aura coming from it.

Kelanvor picked up the copper candlestick on the side and tensed his muscles: "Then give it a try, Imric, help me catch this traitor."

Before Imric could respond, Midnight left Cyric's side. "Don't force me to choose between friends," she warned.

Cyric looked at her coldly, with disappointment in his eyes: "You will have to make a choice soon."

With that, Cyric slid down the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.

Kelemvor did not follow. He knew that in the darkness, Cyric would have the advantage. Instead, he turned to Midnight: "So that stalker you kept feeling on the road was him. Why didn't you call me?"

"He's just here to talk," Midnight replied with a headache, not quite sure if Kellenvor sounded hurt or angry. "You're going to kill him."

Kelanvor slammed the door angrily and left, and Midnight's face turned cold. Then she looked towards the night, gritted her teeth and said to Imric, "I want to go find Cyric, and I want to persuade him to come back."

The silver-haired mage shook his head slightly: "Your basic demands have deviated from the direction. He hopes to use the tablet of destiny to become a god, and you hope to return the tablet to the gods. How can you persuade him?"

Midnight took a deep breath and ran into the night without saying a word. She would not give up. She would always remember the figure who broke into the rugged tower to rescue her when she was desperate.

While Kelemvor and Midnight were arguing, Cyric had slipped into the black night, with anger in his eyes, angry at Midnight's stupidity and ignorance, and also angry at Kelemvor's attitude of not caring about his old relationship. , maybe Cyric and him had already broken up, but when faced with such a scene, the thief knew that he was far from ready to face the end of his friends betraying each other.