I left my friends after the events of the hotel. There were so many questions in my head just from two focused trances during that time. I knew that quite the amount of them couldn’t be further answered through this method. I needed to meet a friend from before my exile. So I said my goodbyes to Borgen, Faelon, Hawk and Valarith. I didn’t want them to be involved further in all of this, since everyone had his own problems. Especially Valarith. He risked his life once for me and he was paid back badly. I still feel guilty because it was my selfishness which started his downfall. Even more so because we just knew us for a few days, maybe a tenday. Hopefully, I manage to pay him back properly, one day. Over a year has passed since then. A year that changed me a lot. On my way back from Chult towards the Sword Coast I focused my trances again from time to time, so see what I hid from myself. It showed me memories of what seemed like I did some heroic deeds together with my friends Dalarion and Grandur. Deeds La’iri would tell me to be proud of and she would be right, if it weren’t for everything that came afterwards. It also showed me one memory in particular. An argument between Grandur and me. The argument ended with me taking my stuff and leaving. I guessed that this was the true beginning of my century long exile. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When I met with my dwarven friend I got answers. A lot of them and the more he told me the more confusing everything got. He was still angry at me for walking off like that but he forgave me in the end. The most confusing answer he told me was that it had not even been a decade since we last had seen each other. In return I told him about everything that had happened to me up to this point. With his help I was finally able to construct some sort of timeline. Sadly he also told me that Dalarion had passed away. A warpriest of Tempus dying of old age in his bed nothing you often hear about. More importantly Grandur helped me with my innermost crisis. The name of the woman who meant so much to me that my own self was hating me for forgetting it. He even showed me a drawing of her. He name was Firiel. She had golden hair, blue eyes as clear as the sea and a kindness that made it hard to be mad at her and she was always positive and energetic. Seemingly I always had phases were La’iri’s death was haunting me, making me to turn away from the world and my friends; that changed when we took her in thirty or so years ago. She was a teenager then and a Half-Elf like Dalarion. At first she treated me like an older brother and I treated her as a younger sister. When she became older it stayed that way for a while. Until she met the wrong lad. I stepped in, saved her again. A short while after that we started to become more than siblings. Roughly a decade after that I married her. We lived a wonderful life. Sure the people of Dagger Falls never really trusted me, it was all thanks to her. Then the accident, no, the murder happened. Dalarion and Grandur thought my grieve was the reason for me changing into a very bad direction. They tried to save me, trying to tell me that I had to be strong for someone else. But whatever magic my brother had used on me, it was too strong. That was how the argument came to be. Better call it a fight, we weren’t talking much, not with our mouths at least. More with our fists. Kind of a last resort by my friend. I wish now, I had listened back then. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so bad, when Grandur revealed the reason for his rage. At the time of Firiel’s death our kids where a few months old. Not only did I forget about that I was married, I also forgot about my kids. I already thought about me as one of the worst people around. But that was a whole new level of being a bad person. Yet it set a few things straight and me again on a dangerous path. That I managed to leave thanks to Grandur and Dalarion’s half-sister, Elara. She was also the nanny of my kids during my absence. I still wonder about the reason why a person like me is blessed with all that great people in his life. Grandur took my children in, after I had ran off. At Dalarion’s funeral he had met Elara and talked her into helping him. They even kept mine and Firiel’s house. Grandur, the most honest person I have ever met, besides Drev’nae, lied for me every time he told my children a story about me. He shed a bright light on me. Even Elara who was and still is quite critical towards me couldn’t tell them truth. The dangerous path I just mentioned of course had its origin with my older brother Rhanagar. His words from Firiel’s funeral rang again in my ears: “What was she? Please, tell me that I killed your wife. Uh, was she even pregnant?” He knew that already, as well as of my children. For the first time I felt a rage like Grandur usually did during combat. When I heard that some drow agents were seen around the town. I took off and challenged them by myself. Like I already said, thanks to Grandur and Elara I didn’t die. Taking on a drow hunting party alone not the wisest idea anyone could ever make. Especially when you are not thinking straight. So we took them out. Left just one priestess alive. She tried to curse me, claimed that my sister would now hunt me even more, that my sister would make a sacrifice of me. I didn’t care about Tallrene, I cared about my brother. The bastard who had made my life so miserable. I gave that priestess a message for him. Not my wisest decisions because now my brother might actually see me as threat that needs to be taken care of. If that priestess ever gave him my message, of course. All of this was a good four months ago. Now, I am back in Port Nyanzaru. Thanks to some recovered riches along the way, I managed to bring Rhythm of Drums back into our world. Her own son as well as Taban’s son deserved to have her back in their lives. Also luckily I found that perfume again Drev’nae had liked. My daughter likes it, too. I had hoped to get some news about everyone. Yet, I only heard that Borgon got a crew and ship and that Hawk had some small success on stage here in the city. Of course, both left the city a long while ago. No news on Faelon or Valarith. Maybe I will get some in the feywild. Yes, the time has finally come. I don’t know if she will meet me. I don’t know how much time has passed over there. All I know is I don’t care about that. I promised her that I would visit and talk to to her when I am ready and know who I am. I am far from ready for this. I might look as cool as Icewind Dale but I am scared. I would rather fight a beholder again than doing this. But it needs to be done. I still don’t know who I truly am. I still don’t know who done what to my memories. There are still so many questions about my past that are still unanswered. Like why did my mind try to replace Firiel with Drev’nae. But I don’t want to look at the past or anything concerning this any longer. This last year has taught me the importance of the people around me. I treated them badly and worse and still they had my back or opened my eyes by telling me the brutal truth. Borgen, Drev’nae, Elara, Faelon, Grandur, Hawk and Valarith they are a part of my family. Because in my case the family that is important is not the family I was born into. It’s the people I care most about, the family I choose. Doesn’t matter how strange and dysfunctional we might look to others. So it is time to make amends. And it starts with my little sister. Velverin sat his son and daughter in the small boat he had bought, along with a scroll that would take them to feywild. Tears were flowing when the kids said goodbye to their aunt Elara and uncle Grandur. Velverin promised that this was not the last time they would see each other and then climbed into the boat as well. Of course, he could have used the scroll right away, but he remembered very well what could happen by opening a portal to the feywild. And he didn’t want displacer beasts running around too close to the city. The three of them didn’t travel that far. The death curse was gone but the jungles of Chult were still a dangerous place. After a short rest, Velverin used the scroll and took his children by the hands and said as they stepped through the portal: “Maya, Sorn, time to meet your auntie Drev’nae.”
