Varatas walked along the path towards Parnast, the next destination in his hastily assembled group’s seemingly neverending task to find a shipment of dragon cult goods. His uncle’s misadventure had led his party from Waterdeep to the Mere of Death Men, a hidden castle in the marsh, and now to the North. Their destination was a floating castle, a maddenly appropriate base of operations for a crazed dragon cult.

He was not paying attention to Logan and Janma’s bickering, having quickly learned to drown it out as white noise. Varatas was thumbing through a small paperbound book. Before they left Waterdeep he had managed to “borrow” a early of copy of his twin sister’s latest novella. Between chapters he wondered what his siblings were up to as last he heard his sister was developing her own magical abilities…he giggled to himself, figuring she was stuck in the summer manor’s studying learning to ink spells into her spell book. Keeping her cooped up likely was driving poor Aletheia insane…

Meanwhile in the Southern Sword Coast…

Vesti walked onto the manor’s balcony overlooking the Elthrai summer grounds, her snow-white hair blowing the unusually cool breeze for early summer. The weather was more akin to something she would expect near Silverymoon in the fall. The cause of chill became clear as she reached the railing of the balcony. Over the 40 by 40 yard clearing there were multiple unnatural glaciers protruding out of the ground, each made of ice clear as the night sky. Vesti’s mother stood a few feet down from where her, a bastion of calm observing the scene unfolding in the field below. The normally observant Hisana barely noticed her eldest daughter, her gaze fixed on the scene below.

An High Elf woman, not quite an adult but not quite a child, ran behind one of the taller glaciers, her deep breaths visible. The girl leaned against the icy structure, her need for support outweighing the cold cutting through her tunic and her gloves. She could hear a repetitive sound boots meeting the grass, an oak staff deliberately pounding against the ground to further mark each occasion. The young elf muttered to herself in frustration, trying not to make much noise as to give away her position, “What did I get signed up for?”

Composing herself, Aletheia Elthrai, the youngest of the three children of Hisana and Tyrion, and twin sister to the wandering sorcerer Varatas, slowly turned her head around the glacier, hoping her platinum hair would mask her. To her surprise, her assailant was only 25 yards away, her free hand holding a book close to her face, paying little attention to the spying girl. The studious High Elf had seen more than six centuries worth of years, her blue hair to fading to white. The thick robes she wore were more expected of an arctic adventurer and not a Wizard residing within the Sword Coast. The woman moved her eyes slightly towards her peeping charge, followed by nonchalantly aiming her oak staff decorated with an eagle at its zenith towards the glacier Aletheia was using as cover. Her voice was calm, cold, and calculating, paced slowly to add to its fear, “I see you princess.”

Aletheia darted back behind the glacier as a blue-white beam shot streaked past her. The beam crossed a few inches from the glacier, where her head was a few moments before. Aletheia looked where the beam struck the ground, a new six-inch glacier sprouting from the ground. The magic her assigned tutor possessed was mind numbing and awe-inspiring. With a wave of her hand this woman could create ice from air. And even behind the glacier Aletheia could feel the woman’s presence pushing against her. What the young sorceress did not realize was for the last three hours the threads of the Weave, source of all magic, were subtly being manipulated by the elder elf to push against Aletheia, like the subtle force of water pushing against a submerged object. She tensed against her icy wall, acting as if she was pressing against a narrow ledge overlooking a chasm rather than an open field before her. Aletheia worriedly squeaked, “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me magic, not constantly trying to kill me?”

The older woman barely turned her head towards the glacier, her eyes still focusing her book rather than her charge, “If you cannot cast simple spells under pressure then anything I teach you is worthless.” As she finished her “lesson” she tapped her staff against the ground. As if the air obeyed her very thoughts a shard of blue-white ice forged into a dagger before Aletheia. Without a command it flew towards her. Aletheia ducked. Aletheia started to breathe a sigh of relief when the dagger, now lodged into the glacier, exploded, small shards pelting the hunted High Elf with small bits of ice.

Aletheia scrambled away from the glacier, first crawling before coming to a full sprint as he got back unto her legs. She did not turn as her teacher solemnly barked; “Maybe if you counterattacked I would stop hurling ice at you for a moment. Have I frozen your ability to cast the spells I have taught you so far? Or have I merely frozen your resolve?”

Aletheia stopped and turned towards her teacher, taking a deep breath as she tried to control the panic running through her mind…

Back on the balcony, Vesti walked up to her mother’s side, now cloaked in a fall coat she retrieved from one of the panicked staff members. The sound of magical explosions and ice sprouting from the ground were not commonplace at the manor. At most the staff and guests were used to the occasional firework display by a certain excitable brother of Vesti and Aletheia. Her mother’s gaze was still focused on the scene before them, with quiet resolve hiding the worry for her youngest child. Vesti perplexingly looked at her mother before breaking the silence, “Mother, I don’t claim to be an expert, but I expected magic tutelage to be more…academic.”

“Well my dear, for a Master Wizard like our esteemed guest Archmage Stiria of the Lady’s College yes magic is an academic pursuit.” Vesti turned back to see her blonde haired uncle, Teclis Elthrai, walk up behind his niece and sister-in-law, taking in the magical display before before him, “But for a fledgling sorcerers and sorceresses like your siblings magic is more like training a muscle. They don’t cast based on strict memorization of an incantation but more on instinct…and Stiria tends to think the best way to train those “muscles” is to beat her charges until they can’t forget what she teaches them. For someone like your brother its an effective strategy…”

Vesti turned back to the unfolding display. She knew her uncle had recommended the Archmage to her father for Aletheia’s training, but was unaware he knew her personally. Then again, her uncle was a man of many mysteries and talents. She knew he was a Harper, and had his hand in all sorts of activities across the realms. She also knew he occasionally used the family business to move people or goods “silently” and that her father discretely allowed the practice. What shocked her was her uncle had his shield and sword with him, a rare event for him when he was on family grounds.

For her part Aletheia impressed her family, now trying to aim her own rays of frost back at her teacher. Only a few weeks ago she was unable to even cast a simple illumination spell. Aletheia was always considered the most fragile, or the sweetest, of the three children. Varatas was always headstrong and getting into trouble, and Vesti displayed a cunning mind she applied to business and politics. Keeping her gaze focused on her sister Vesti asked her uncle, “Is part of Lady Stiria’s training pushing her pupil to near death?”

Teclis sternly glared upon the dancing flashes of white and blue playing before him, “Unfortunately, yes. She believes it’s the best way to draw out a sorceress’s true power…and the esteemed Archamage is rather set in her methods after 500 years of training would be Mages.” He tried not to display his own concern for his youngest niece. A headstrong sorcerer like Varatas responds to such training methods easily, evidenced by his growing skill over the last few months. But someone less combative, like his sisters, were just as likely to break through such training methods.

Another blue-white streak flared at Stiria. This one was on target, forcing the elder Wizard to defensively raise her staff. A translucent barrier encased her, deflecting the ray of frost before it hit her. Closing her book it appeared the elderly Wizard was ready to begin a more focused training. Looking down at the perceived sheltered princess before her she raised her voice, “Again!”

Aletheia was panting, her arms having fallen to her side. It took every once of her remaining energy to stay on her feet, unknown to her magical force was subtly trying to force her to the ground. She tried to raise her hands to aim another spell, her body straining to even move. It felt as if someone had tied a tree trunk to each of her arms. Shrieking from pain, she fell to her knees, no longer able to hold herself up. Aletheia could barely speak, struggling to force words out as she was drowning in the overbearing presence of her stern educator, “I can’t…I can’t move…”

The elder elf took a few steps toward her charge, “Up! Again! We are not done yet.” The younger elf looked up at her teacher, struggling to even stay on her knees. “We have been at this for hours. I can’t move.” Stiria raised her voice, her anger masked only by her displeasure, “Do you think a foe would stop merely because you are tired? Do you think they will take a timeout for you to catch your breath!” Receiving no response from her adolescent charge, Stiria raised her staff into the sky, “If you won’t fight, face the divine punishment of the Unseen Realm.” Unnatural clouds began to swirl around the manor, the vortex centering above Stiria’s staff. She shouted to the vortex, her voice raised but calm as if she was reciting facts before the Court, “By the grace of the Unseen Realm awaken she who dwells upon icy throne. Descend from the heavens to come forth to fulfill our pact of ice signed with my blood…”

Vesti and Hisana glared into the air as they gripped their coats, the air quickly dropping from a cool fall to a freezing neverwinter night. Visibly disturbed by the sight unfolding before him, Teclis uttered under his breath, not realizing his sister-in-law and niece heard him clearly, “Has she lost her mind!” Teclis leapt from the balcony, drawing his sword and shield while he was in the air. He vanished as he landed, reappearing in full sprint towards the field, his shield raised as if he was going to face the breath of a dragon.

Still on her knees, Aletheia wrapped her arms around her body as a veil-thin sheet of ice began to form on her skin. She realized very air around her was flash freezing at the Archmage’s incantation. Aletheia struggled as she felt herself beginning to pass out, forcing her gaze from the Wizard before her, now hovering a few inches off the ground, up to the sky above her. In the vortex of clouds above them glowing blue runes appeared as if being etched into the clouds. This was something foreign to even the fairy tales she used to read or the stories of adventure her uncle regaled her with as a child. As she fell back to her knees she heard her uncle shouting something, his voice coming closer. She simply wanted to go to sleep, her little remaining energy spent solely to keep her eyes half open. I can’t give up. Not now, I can’t.

Stiria looked down on her charge, her interest piqued as the Weave around them warped. Instead of the threads focusing into the air as she was directing, the focus was being drawn the ivory haired elf before her. After a moment Aletheia was drawn into the air, floating on the threads as magic wildly surged around her. Anyone else and Stiria would think the girl was casting a high level incantation, but it was clear Aletheia was unconscious by now, the weave unnaturally bending and folding to the girl’s subconscious will. The magical threads around the younger elf began to ignite; starting first as small firecrackers but quickly grew larger. But it was Aletheia’s suddenly open eyes that piqued the Wizard’s interest, each glowing with a golden red glow that illuminated the sky.

Shocked, Stiria lowered her staff down towards Aletheia, the icy dust floating towards the vortex in the sky now roaring like a crashing wave towards Aletheia. Stiria drew more power from the vortex itself, screaming as the young sorceress was engulfed in an explosion, “Diamond Dust!”

A few moments later, Stiria lowered her staff looking at the large cone of ice condensed into spikes frozen into the ground, each pointing outward for two dozen yards. The ground looked as if a snowstorm flash froze a wave as it was crashed against the ground. No one would know it was early summer as small snowflakes lazily drifted towards the ground, the clouds above slowly parting to reveal the sun again. The Archmage’s gaze was drawn to a twenty-foot circle starting only a few yards from her. This patch was not covered in snow or ice at all, instead scarred by black char as if a dragon had breathed fire upon it. The circle of this unusual area was centered on Aletheia, who had both small burn marks and what looked like frostburn upon different parts of her skin, her tunic both torn from shards of ice and scorched from fire.

Within a moment Aletheia began to fall to the ground. Like a blur her uncle appeared crouched catching the girl before she hit the ground. Teclis breathed a sigh of relief as he confirmed his niece was still breathing, merely passed out from exhaustion despite being singed around the edges. He turned his gaze back upon the elder mage, his anger boiling over, “Are you insane Stiria! Using that spell could have killed her even with only a partial summon!”

The elder crone turned her back towards the uncle and his unconscious niece, walking back towards the manner. Her voice showed no remorse, “I was told to gauge her power and teach her to control a uncontrollable magic. I needed to know the extent of her latent and wild powers. She was never in any true danger.” After a few more steps she stated curtly, “Who would have thought the famous rose knight would be so adverse to a controllable risk?” She did not acknowledge Vesti or Hisnana as they ran towards Teclis, now carrying his niece in his arms.

Several hours later

Evening had set upon the manner, the weather mercifully returning to normal. Stiria sat at a table, a cup of tea in one hand as she used her free hand to thumb through some of the texts under floating lights that illuminated the study. She was not oblivious to the gaze of Teclis, who had not said anything for the hours he was in the room observing the family “guest” as she poured through some of the Elthrai family tomes. Putting her teacup on its coaster, the female elf broke the silence that permeated the room like a dense fog, “Do you have something to say Teclis, or are you going to just going to try kill me with a gaze of daggers?”

Pushing off the wall, Teclis walked to the table so he was standing across from the elderly Archmage, “Where should I start Archmage? Pushing my niece to the brink of death, invoking a forbidden conjuration, or directing that spell towards her when she could barely stand?” Looking up from the text the Wizard smirked as she calmly continued, “I am shocked at this from one such as yourself. I have trained wizards, warlocks, and sorceresses for five hundred years and my techniques are flawless. They certainly helped that useless nephew of yours develop his abilities in such a short time.”

Teclis slammed his hands on the table, his voice bellowing through the manner’s halls, “Aletheia is not Varatas! You cannot expect to train them the same way!” “Oh I know she is a fragile flower of a debutante is not the same as that worthless boy your family sent to me twenty years ago to seal away. She is at least capable of being taught.” “That is not what I meant Stiria! If you continue this you are going to kill her!” “Tell me almighty Rose Knight, Agent of the Harpers and Questing Knight of the Realm. Did you actually take a moment to see the scene unfolding before you or were you too busy rushing in to save the damsel in distress?”

Before Stiria could continue her verbal assault, a breath of fresh air filled the room as Hisana entered, her presence alone cleansing the stale anger permeating the area. Her voice was calm and collected, but displayed a vague hint of anger, “Lady Stiria, our family thanks you for your continued service to us but I must ask that you not insult the children of the Lady of the House in her presence.”

Teclis was in shock, rarely had he ever seen his sister-in-law visibly agitated in the slightest. Hisana was known throughout Waterdeep as calm and collected, the eye in the storm that was the constant politicking Teclis always tried to avoid. To even show a small outwardly glimpse of anger was unlike her, and truly terrifying. Equally as terrifying was that Stiria did not seem to care at all, taking a slip from her tea as she looked at the Lady of the House, “Tell me Lady Elthrai, will my charge be ready for her morning lessons tomorrow?”

By now, Teclis poured Hisana a cup of tea, hoping to break the tension that was quickly reforming. He had fought all manners of beasts both natural and not across three realms, but the aura of these two strong willed women was equal to the fearful presence monsters had upon the common folk. As Hisana accepted the tea Teclis noticed broken skin upon Hisana’s hands, unusual for the well-kept grace she portrayed.

Hisana took a small spoon of honey into her tea, slowly stirring while collecting her thoughts, “I am afraid not. The cleric who arrived healed her physical wounds, but said she will need a few days bedrest to fully recover from her fever, burns, and frost burns.” The elder mage gave both Elthrais a condensing stare to match her tone as she stood up, “Very well, I will have six texts for the Princess to memorize by the end of the week. We will continue promptly starting Monday at daybreak. I shall return to my quarters. Do not disturb me, I will send for meals when needed.”

Hisana nodded in agreement as the mage walked away. Stiria stopped at the door, turning back to glare down Teclis, “As for you my washout student, I expect you to report by the morning what I meant when I said you failed to see the scene unfolding before you. Also, I will need you to send that worthless dragonchild to me whenever he returns from whatever Gods forbidden errands you sent him on.”

With that she closed the doors and left. Teclis sighed, knowing the last comment was worded merely as an unsubtle barb at his sister in law. He collapsed into his chair, a deep sigh all he could muster as he mustered a forced smile and shrug of his shoulders towards his sister in law. His gaze fixed upon her tea, Hisana broke the silence with a solemn statement, speaking to herself as much as she was speaking to her brother in law, “Well, at least now I can see why Varatas never said good things about Lady Stiria when he was at the College.”

Teclis let out a small laugh, “Well to be fair, she did freeze him solid for nearly a week. Something about him failing to show the proper respect to his elders.” Hisana let out a small smile, remembering reading the letter Varatas wrote about the ordeal. Looking back up at Teclis, Hisana inquired about the last comment, “I know the dragonchild comment was about Varatas, but what did she mean about seeing the scene unfolding before you?”

Teclis finished his tea, having spent some time over the last few hours dwelling on that very subject. “She thinks I didn’t notice how she saved Aletheia’s life today.” Seeing his tea-mate’s perplexed expression he immediately continued, “When Aletheia’s magic surged out of control, I am guessing based on the explosion pattern that Stiria created an ice wall between her and the fireball Aletheia was unconsciously forming.” Knowing the next question Hisana would ask, even as a layperson to magical arts, “And yes, to do that should be impossible, unless you are capable of subtly manipulating the Weave at the most precise of levels. She likely only had a few centimeters space to work with…And yes, for 99.99% of Wizards that feat would be impossible.”

While still disliking her daughter’s tutor, Hisana could not hide her awe. It now made sense why Teclis was so insistent that Stiria be the one to train Aletheia, even when she seemingly failed with Varatas. She gripped her teacup with both hands, her thoughts lost in her own honeyed reflection. Teclis did not need to ask what was going through her mind. Ever since Varatas’ first magical awakening, Hisana had blamed herself. In her mind three generations of “normal” Elthrais were born, but after Tyrion married her suddenly two sorcerers appeared to display the family’s “curse.” She likely thought it was some divine punishment for Tyrion marrying a commoner.

Deciding to leave his sister-in-law to her thoughts, as foolish as they might be, he stood and walked towards the doors. As he walked by he stopped, his voice barely above a whisper in case any staff was at the door, “Most Elven women would consider giving birth to two naturally gifted spellcasters a great boon.”

Hisana did not look up from her cup, meekly replying, “We are not most Elven families…”

The door to Aletheia’s room slowly opened, the only noise coming from a slight squeak of the door as Tyrion slowly entered. He knew she would be resting, and did not wish to wake her. His gaze was drawn past her, sleeping peacefully in her bed, to Vesti, who had fallen asleep at Aletheia’s bedside, her head resting on Aletheia’s bedside table. As he approached he saw a worn book lying upon the bed. He was shocked to see it was the same book of fairy tales he read to each of the Elthrai children when they were younger. Aletheia was always the most interested in the tales, saying one day she would become a princess and save a damsel prince in distress.

Tyrion slowly walked up behind Vesti, taking a spare blanket that had been left out and placing over his eldest niece. He remembered similar scenes to this when he and Tyrion spent summers in this house, Tyrion staying at his beside when Teclis injured himself and vice versa. Perhaps it was because neither brother wanted to spend time alone with their sister.

The cause of Hisana’s broken skin became apparent as Teclis took inventory of the room. Sticking out from under the bed was a small pan containing washrags and various ointments. Combining that with the fact that Aletheia was spotless clean, other than the various bandages around her made it clear that Hisana personally bathed and cleaned her daughter’s wounds, even with the manor’s staff and that cleric who had arrived, fearing Stiria’s spell was a demonic invasion. The human had arrived clad in ill-fitting battle gear, and had breathed a sigh of relief that he was only needed to cure wounds and not face demons.

Aletheia looked peaceful in bed, like a sleeping princess waiting for a prince to come wake her. Of course, the fragile debutante was more likely to find to leap from bed and find her own prince than wait. Teclis was concerned that her normally fair cheeks were a dark pink, as well as the numerous well-bandaged cuts over her body. But she was stronger than she looked and Teclis was not worried she would recover.

Leaving the princesses to their slumber, Teclis lazily walked back to his own quarters. It had been a long day and there was a bottle of fine honeyed mead with his name on it in his room to keep him company before he slept. He would need to return to Waterdeep soon, his nephew and Ninefingers’s errand should be close to finishing. The fact Stiria wished to see Varatas. It was likely their reunion would be as violent as a blizzard meeting a blazing inferno. He would need Tyrion to take out another insurance policy on the manor when that happened…

Teclis stopped as he passed the Archmage’s quarters. He placed his hand near the door, knowing his disturbance would be unwelcome. To his shock Stiria’s voice echoed in his mind. “Enter.” Slowly walking into the bare room his gaze was drawn to Stiria, who was cloaked in a black cloak sitting on the floor in the center of the room, her gaze focused upon a floating orb. Teclis noticed her pupils were white, clearly a result of the scyring she was undertaking. Before he could say anything the Mage spoke in her cold voice, her eyes and focus still upon her orb, “The sorceresses are resting a I presume?” Teclis was taken aback, but not surprised that Stiria said two and not one, curtly replying, “So you know about Vesti as well?”

“Of course I do. While not as wild as her sister or overt as her brother, the command she wields is magical in nature. I doubt she even consciously knows it. It is the same as your brother, and what makes them fit to lead the family, no?”

Teclis was not surprised in the least that the famed Empress of Frost had already figured a secret that even most of his own family did not know. He never told his brother that the very magic the family possessed and he tried to hide was in each of them and even subconsciously manifested without their knowledge. As he shook his head in amusement, Teclis’s gaze was drawn towards the orb, “I am shocked you even care based on your actions today…”

“You of all people should know that I care deeply for each and every student I have trained for the last 500 years, but they will not benefit from unnecessary coddling. I even care about that worthless dragonboy who refused to take any of my advice or lessons.” “Well you did try to seal away all his magic at my brother’s insistence.” “And for his benefit I released the seal when he was ready for his magic to develop. Had I done so earlier he would be no better off than his fey-touched sister.”

The last comment gave Teclis the knowledge of what the Archmage was up to with her orb. Even though he could only see a chaotic swirl of blue and white when he gazed into the scying orb, it was clear Stiria was using the orb to peer into other planes of existence. Another skill she possessed that most Mages would never dream of being able to utilize.

As if she read his mind the elder mage continued, her voice changing as if another was speaking through her, “The princess carries the “cursed” dragon blood, same as her father, her uncle, her aunt, her sister, and her twin brother…But it appears that a creature of the fey has taken an interest in her. Its interference causes her to display magic erratically and spontaneously.” Teclis took in what was said, knowing that Stiria’s explanation was correct, because in all the years he knew her, first as her student, then as a contact, and eventually a mentor, she was never wrong. “Forces gather as the pieces shift within the realms. Bolstered by shadow and shielded by the light, the dragonborn will reforge the pact anew.”

Teclis was confused by the last statement, chalking it up to being nothing more than a random glimmer a mortal sees when peering into another a realm. Deciding his intrusion would only lead to more conflict, he bowed to the still scrying archmage. He was still angry about her methods, but at least understanding to some extent her choice of training. Of course…when Varatas found out Stiria was training his sister he would likely react…unfavorably.

On the outskirts of Parnast

Meanwhile, under the shadow of the floating castle, Varatas sat against a treetrunk, his gaze shifting between the draconic book he had spent the better part of the last several weeks trying to translate and his companions around the camp. The campfire was dimly lit, his four companions deep in slumber. Logan was tossing in his sleep, randomly shifting as if he felt someone was trying to rob him. Varatas mused that the idiot was still suffering withdrawal from his precious opium. Although he had little chance to partake in his normal manwhoring, the Halfling had kept up with his supposed “repentance,” though Varatas still believed it was a scam with an end he did not yet see.

Across the camp Logan’s best friendamy, Jamna was sleeping too soundly, Varatas noticed over the last few weeks as the Gnome slept she always grinned as if she had just robbed the royal vaults. From what he knew of her, it was likely she robbed Logan and Carlon blind mid fight. The human warrior and Harper ally of Logan was sleeping upright against another tree truck, tightly gripping his longsword.

Varatas suddenly let out a large sneeze. To his surprise, the only member of his group who responded at all was Lothar, who sleeping near the fire with his back turned to Varatas muttered, “Damn elves.” Varatas was not shocked at the response, even knowing that Lothar was still asleep but naturally blaming any disturbance on an Elf. Varatas simply chalked Lothar’s disposition up to a lack of beer for more than five minutes, as they had not traveled near a town for some time. He put his book down, wondering what each member of his family was up to and what he would say to them when he eventually saw each of them again…if he saw them again.