"You're right," Kelemvor said. "I should be grateful. But… Caitlan, a god? You must admit, it stretches the imagination."
Midnight looked back to Mystra. The goddess, cloaked in the form of the girl they had traveled with the previous day, was not an impressive sight.
"Yes," Midnight said. "But I know it's true."
Behind Midnight and Kelemvor, unnoticed, Adon listened to their words, then turned away.
We have fought a god, he thought. And now we serve one, although the others haven't fully accepted it yet. Even as he experienced this revelation, Adon wondered why he was not filled with excitement and reverence. These were the gods themselves that walked the Realms!
Adon looked at the scrawny child kneeling in the dirt and felt a mild discomfort at the sight. Then he recalled the brief glimpse he had had of the abomination Mystra had identified as Bane, the Black Lord.
These are the gods themselves?
Across from the waiting adventurers, Mystra rose to her feet. She stood before the stairway, preparing herself for ascension. A slight smile inched its way across her avatar's face, and she realized the importance of this moment as she turned to address her rescuers.
"Before you, invisible to your human senses, is a Celestial Stairway," Mystra said. "The stairway is a means of traveling between the kingdoms of the gods and the humans. I am about to undertake a dangerous task. If I succeed, the four of you will be my witnesses as I return to the Planes. If I fail, at least one of you must carry my words to the world. This is a sacred task that I may only charge to one whose faith is unquestioning."
Midnight stepped forward. "Anything," Midnight said. "Tell me what must be done!"
Kelemvor shook his head and stood beside Midnight as he spoke to her. "Haven't we done enough? We have risked our lives to save your goddess. Let's quit while we're ahead. There's an entire world to explore and a thousand ways to spend our reward. We should leave."
"I'm staying," Midnight said.
Adon stepped forward. "I stand with Midnight."
Kelemvor looked to Cyric, who merely shrugged. "My curiosity roots me to the spot," Cyric said in a half mocking tone.
Kelemvor gave up. "What is it you have to say, goddess?"
"The Realms are in chaos," Mystra said.
"That much we know."
"Kel!" Midnight said.
"But do you know why?" Mystra said sternly. Kelemvor was silent.
Mystra continued. "There is a power greater than even the gods. This force, which humans are not meant to know about, has cast the gods out of the heavens. Lord Helm, God of Guardians, blocks the gateway to the Planes, keeping us in the Realms. While we are here, we must take human hosts, avatars, or else we are little more than wandering spirits.
"We are paying the penalty for the crimes of two of our number. Lord Bane and Lord Myrkul stole the Tablets of Fate. At least one of these tablets has been hidden in the Realms, although I do not know where. We have been charged with the duty of finding these tablets and returning them to their rightful place in the heavens."
Cyric seemed confused. "But you don't have the tablets," he said. "What do you intend to do?"
"Barter the identities of the thieves for leniency toward those gods who are innocent of this crime," Mystra said.
Kelemvor folded his arms over his chest and laughed as he leaned against his horse. "This is absurd. She's making all this up as she goes along."
Suddenly Mystra's words bore into the privacy of the fighter's mind.
I could have cured you, she said. Since you do not believe me, I will not.
Kelemvor's laughter stopped and his flesh became pale.
"Goddess! I would accompany you!" Midnight said, and Kelemvor looked to the magic-user in alarm.
Mystra weighed the offer carefully. A human witnessing sights only a god could comprehend? The woman would be driven mad. Caitlan's mind would be protected, but there was nothing she could do to protect Midnight.
"Only gods may follow," Mystra said. The power that had been secreted in the pendant, along with the stolen energies Mystra had taken from Lord Bane, coiled within her, as if waiting for release. Then Mystra felt the wellspring of magic within her threaten to overflow. There was a moment of purely human panic for the goddess as she lost control of the forces within her. Gently swaying grass crackled as blue-white fires enveloped every blade.
Cyric felt a pleasant warmth beneath his feet. The air was charged with blue-white sparks, and the winds became visible as great glowing streaks of light, delivered with the passionate brush strokes of a mad genius, seared the air, then faded away.
For just an instant, the stairway became visible to Midnight, and she saw that it was a stairway in name only. An endless amount of delicate white hands lay palm up, some standing alone, others in strange clusters where their flesh seemed to have merged. They rose and fell in irregular patterns and their steely fingers constantly flicked back and forth, anxious to receive their next guest. A network of crystalline bones attached the clusters of hands. Oddly, the stumps of the disembodied hands could never be seen. Soft, flowing mist floated down from cluster to cluster.
Then the stairway was gone and Midnight returned her attentions to Mystra.
Caitlan's form was becoming less distinct, and as it shimmered, the heroes saw the child transformed into the woman she had been destined to become. Her body was lush and beautiful, her face delicate and sensual, but her eyes were very old, revealing a millennium of private concerns.
The goddess was shaken as she turned from the heroes and moved away. She seemed to be walking up into the air, and wherever the goddess's feet touched, tiny bolts of bluish white lightning were loosed.
Mystra saw that her perceptions of the stairway and of the gateway to the Planes were constantly shifting. One moment she saw a beautiful cathedral carved from the clouds, with a broad, ornate stair leading up to it. The next moment the area surrounding the gateway seemed to be made of vast, living runes that danced an unknowable dance as they changed positions with their fellows to spell out secrets of the art Mystra had long pondered and never discovered, until now.
Only the gate itself remained constant: it was a large steel door, forged in the image of a giant fist, the symbol of Helm.
Halfway up the stairs, the clouds parted and the God of Guardians materialized before Mystra.
"Well met, Lord Helm," Mystra said cordially.
Helm simply watched Mystra. "Go back, goddess. This way is not for you."
"I would return to my home," Mystra said, angered by the guardian.
"Do you bring the Tablets of Fate?"
Mystra smiled. "I bring word of the tablets. I know who stole them, and why."
"That is not enough. You must turn back. The Planes are no longer ours."
Mystra seemed confused. "But Lord Ao would wish to have this information."
Helm was unmoving. "Give it to me, and I will pass it along."
"I must deliver this information personally."
"I cannot allow that," Helm said. "Turn back before it is too late."
Mystra continued to climb the Celestial Stairway, the primal forces of magic gathering tightly around Faerun as she willed them to be ready for her call.
"I have no desire to harm you, good Helm. Stand away."
"It is my duty to stop you," Helm said. "I was lax in my duties once. Never again."
Helm descended further.
"Stand away," Mystra said, her voice as loud as a thunderclap.
Helm stood his ground. "Do not force me to harm you, Mystra. I am still a god. You are not."
Mystra froze. "Not a god, you say? I will prove you wrong!"
Helm lowered his eyes, then looked back to her. "So be it."