When the moment comes, itās very simple. The Harpers and the Fist upstairs and Jaheira here, who fought so hard for them. June and Shadowheart, whose lives together can now begin. Wyll and Duke Ravengard, and a gaping void of power in Baldurās Gate.
A principle she has had to explain to many a paladin, but never a wizard: if you donāt understand a threat, how do you really know if itās gone?
There isnāt time to reason it out, why Mystra would prefer blood on her hands, knowledge lost. Following the will of the gods is mostly intuition, and Aliafer has always trusted hers.
āYou canāt do this,ā she says.
āI choose you,ā he says, and her stomach lurches: that isnāt the choice she meant to pose. But itās what she said, isnāt it. Maybe not what she meant, but what she said. And he chooses her, the way she couldnāt quite ever say she chose him.
But thereās a different god to deal with just now. June strikes the killing blow, but the crumpled form of Ketheric Thorm falls at Aliaferās feet. He cries out for his god and receives no answer.
The gods donāt just answer. Thatās what people who profess no particular faith donāt understand. They donāt just answer, and the Lady of Mysteries least of all.
When she sees Gale pacing in the corner of Moonrise, apart from the exhausted celebrations, she readies herself for a torrent of guilt. But heās too much like her: on to the next thing, his mind consumed already by the sight of that crownāthe promise, as he clutches her shoulder, caresses the back of her neck with his thumb as he speaks, that they havenāt ruined everything.
And in the shine in his eyes, Aliafer understands. There was always another way. Mystra must have known of this, must have feared the death gods and the Elder Brain. Must have known there was indeed only one person who could defeat it: Gale, with his lifetime of study of Netherese magic, with his prodigious talent and skill.
Intuition. Is it as Gale says, her anger and envy, keeping him from this second Netherese artefact? Forcing him to choose death over the temptation of power?
Or does she fear what will become of him if he tempts fate a second time? Was his death to be salvation from destruction?
There are things that can destroy a mortal soul, rend it in too many pieces for a god to collect and bring to their afterlife. Becoming a mindflayer, of course, is one such thing.
Do you understand, she wants to say, testing her thumb against the points of the star of Mystra in her pocket, the chain of her holy symbol snapped during the fight, that you cannot choose me without choosing her, too?
Does he understand that for her, Mystra is not a lover, not a mentor, not even a muse? She is the ever-present sensation of the Weave; she is the promise of mysteries to uncover; she is the feeling of knowledge settling itself into understanding after hard work and study. All the things that wizards know and seek to master, she feels, she worships. That is what they share, not the mere name of a goddess, not paired holy symbols that they carry.
āThere is another way, a better way, for both of us,ā he says, and she has to believe that he does.
āI think that sounds like an excellent idea,ā she says.
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