Varien and Bob visited the Temple of Beauty’s artisan gallery to procure a reliquary to hold Varien’s ruby rose. They were not disappointed – the goldsmiths and glassblowers devoted to Sune had crafted just the thing Varien needed to give his divine gift a proper home. The rose seemed to glow with an inner light as it was placed under the glass dome. Bob took this opportunity to designate the Temple of Beauty as a Sanctuary, to be returned to via teleportation if the need arose. Celia Orlyar was waiting for them at the main entrance of the Temple of Beauty when they had completed their business. She smiled at them patiently. “Is your business here concluded, brothers?” Varien and Bob nodded. “Excellent, then let’s be off to the House of Crystal,” Celia said. She led them into the hustle and bustle of Diamond Street. Waterdeep’s Sea Ward was the wealthiest district in the City of Splendors, home to the many-spired, grand homes of the nobility, the gleaming edifices of the city’s leading temples, and the imposing towers of the city’s premier wizards. Bob and Varien were impressed in spite of themselves as they weaved amid the traffic of ornate coaches, private cabs, and gilded carriages that were transporting wealth and status as much as they were transporting people. “So, brothers, is this your first time in Waterdeep?” Celia asked as the trio walked along the cobblestone street. Bob and Varien nodded. “Well, what do you think of our City of Splendors?” “From what I have seen, it contains many splendors indeed,” Varien said. Bob nodded in agreement, thinking of home. “Oh, but it is! A City that never sleeps, where novelty and beauty can be found around every corner, where your thirst for knowledge, for culture, for companionship can be easily slaked, and where Lady Firehair pours out her blessing like fine oils over all who walk in her fiery shadow.” “Well said, Sister,” Bob said. Celia began calling out landmarks as they walked along, pointing to temples and notable residences like a true tour guide. “Tell me, Sister Celia,” Varien asked. “What do you think of High Exultant Iseriasha?” “Oh, she keeps the Temple of Beauty operating smoothly in all areas,” Celia said. “She’s an intelligent woman, once you get past her flirtatious exterior, that is. But that’s part of her role, after all.” “And what of the High Priestess herself?” Varien asked. “Oh, High Lady Ssaeral?” Celia replied. “Her theology is as immaculate as her complexion.” “So, you trust her, then?” Varien pressed. Celia made a point of not meeting Varien’s eyes as she marched onward. “One should not easily distrust one who has a divine mandate to spiritual leadership, Brother.” “That’s a coy answer, Sister,” Varien said. “Please, tell me now if you have any hesitation about anything in the Temple of Beauty that feels, well, off , somehow.” “I heard that you brought a prophetic word from Lady Firehair to the High Lady regarding the Arcetalos,” Celia said guardedly. “I too am a follower of the Phoenix even as I devote my life and service to Lady Firehair. But as to your question, these are things that should be spoken of when we’re out of the Temple’s shadow.” “Are you inviting me some place private?” Varien asked. “If so, how could I say no?” Celia laughed and tossed her blonde tresses. “Perhaps, brother. All in good time.” At the corner of Diamond Street and Delzorin Street, Varien’s attention was caught by an immense walled villa that dominated a city block to the west. Along the adjacent streets, hanging from lampposts, were identical banners featuring a noble coat of arms: a green Y overlapping a stylized preening goose. “That villa must belong to House Cassalanter,” Varien said. “That’s right,” Celia said. “I thought you said this was your first time in Waterdeep?” “Ah, well, I read every book in my hometown’s library, and one of the volumes in the library was the Big Book of Waterdhavian Noble Families ,” Varien said sheepishly. “I spent hours studying their heraldry.” “Well, your studies have served you well,” Celia said. “The Cassalanters are among the wealthiest families of Waterdeep.” Varien’s attention was refocused on a familiar-looking orange-striped tabby cat loafing atop the lamppost. “Ah, and I think I see something that belongs to us.” Across the street, Purrwen scanned the crowd as he puzzled out what to do next – he was angry at himself for running out on a free lunch, but was also curious about little Elzerina and her talking toys. Some movement caught his attention in the street as he saw two familiar forms – his companions Varien and Bob, in the company of an absolutely beautiful blonde woman wearing rose-coloured plate armour. “Me-ow,” Purrwen said, altering self so that he could speak while wildshaped. He hopped down off the lamppost and padded over to the trio, doing a furry figure-eight around the armored ankles of the Sunite paladin. “What’s this? Hello there, kitty!” Celia said with a smile. Purrwen looked up and blinked at Celia. “Hello,” he replied. Celia’s eyes widened. “This cat’s with us,” Varien said. “He’s our druid friend Erwen, and he’s often more comfortable in animal form than his regular Halfling form.” “Is he a friend of yours?” Celia asked warily. “You could say that,” Varien. “Oh, I see!” Celia said, reaching down to scratch Purrwen behind the ears. “Well, you see what I mean? There’s always a sight to see in the City of Splendors. And any friend of Brother Varien and Brother Bob is a friend of mine.” “Me-ow,” Purrwen said with emphasis on the second syllable. He jumped up onto Celia’s shoulder pauldron and settled in for a ride. Celia laughed. The party turned onto Delzorin Street and continued. “It’s not much further,” Celia said. “We will cut across to Shield Street and then take a shortcut I know. Now then,” she said, turning to Varien. “I would like to know more about this holy relic you obtained. What do you know of the Cult of the Phoenix?” “Well, it’s a sort of family heritage,” Varien said. “There is life in fire, and fire in life, and life rises from ashes in birth to death, which takes us back to the ashes. When one life is snuffed, another one sparks. In between, we burn as brightly as we can.” “Well spoken, Brother.” Celia said. “Whether that’s having a positive outlook and doing what is best for others, or building a legacy by helping those around you, or future lives you want to kindle by making the world a better place for others.” “You have been instructed well,” Celia said. “The flames of the Phoenix are a constant source of energy that burn through everyone, intangibly. Light and fire, fire and light. The Phoenix can burn out the bad, and spread the flames of goodness and light. But how did you find this relic, and what is its significance?” “Well you said you heard that I had received a message from Sune herself,” Varien said. “That much is true – Sune gave me a holy word that set me on a quest to seek the deepest caverns of the Sword Mountains, where this relic had been hidden amid the tomb of Uruth Ukrypt, warlord of Orcs of ages past.” “Orcs?” Celia said, her nose wrinkling. “That’s right,” Varien said. “We retrieved the crystal panes that display the profile of the Phoenix Hyolyn, the Arcetalos herself. They had no business being treasure in an Orc’s dungeon, so liberating them was the first step in setting things right, according to my vision from Lady Firehair.” Celia turned to Bob. “And you were there too, Brother?” Bob nodded. “We saved children from becoming an unholy sacrifice.” “I was there, too!” Purrwen said. “I was the wind walker.” “Of course you were, kitty,” Celia said, scratching Purrwen under his chin. “Rowr,” Purrwen replied, curling his tail around Celia’s neck. “You’ll love Manycats Alley,” Celia said, chuckling. “It’s a sheltered breezeway that will put us at the House of Crystal’s front door in no time. There are many furry friends that sleep on the sunbaked stones.” “Lead on,” Varien said. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll know more about these crystal panes and where they should go.” The transition from the Sea Ward to North Ward was subtle, but noticeable. The atmosphere here was quieter, its wealth providing a buffer against the toil and trade of the other parts of the city. The homes here were middle class, with a few noble villas to the north. “Manycats Alley is just this way,” Celia said. “The Speaker of the Guild of Glassblowers, Glaziers and Speculum-Makers is a follower of the Phoenix and quite learned in lore, so we will likely learn a great deal. Ah, here we are!” She led the party into a side street that narrowed considerably, warehouses and the backsides of several businesses hemming them in on both sides into a warren of twisting alleys. Purrwen began sniffing around as the quartet entered Manycats Alley and frowned, his ears turning around and flattening against his skull. Instead of the usual alley cat smells he was expecting, he could smell nothing at all. None of the regular odours of an outdoor, urban environment were present – it was as if he were in some sort of dream state. Celia’s intoxicating perfume had completely vanished. Purrwen yowled and raked his claws on Celia’s ruby-red greaves. “What is it, kitty?” Celia asked. “Something’s wrong,” Purrwen vocalized, his tail bottling in fright. Varien activated his divine sense and heard a discordant tuning fork ringing in his ears. Not a ringing he would associate with good. He could see more than 60 feet in front of him, but his divine sense stopped dead about 40 feet in front of him, as though there was nothing there, according to his senses. Varien’s hand drifted to Fiendsbane’s hilt. Bob looked over his shoulder at the alley behind him and frowned as the open space at the alley’s mouth seemed to distort and refract. Light was refracting against an invisible barrier as though a glass door had been drawn shut on the alley. “You said this was a shortcut!” Varien said to Celia. “This place isn’t real, somehow!” Purrwen yowled. From every shadow in the alley, there was a grinding sound as black portals opened, and several hooded figures stepped out onto the cobblestones, surrounding the party. Some of them were armed with spears and wore splint armor that visibly smouldered. Others were robed, holding razor-sharp knives of volcanic glass. Within the volcanic glass of the blades, flames danced within. The sky above darkened as though they were looking through a glass, darkly. “What is this?” Celia said, drawing her sword. “Be on your guard, brothers!” Before them, the tiniest dot of deepest black appeared in the alley before them. The circle began to enlarge until it was wide enough to admit a human female clad in red wrappings, a crimson blindfold covering her eyes. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a braid that disappeared into a black-red hood. Purrwen purred appreciatively in spite of himself. The woman’s face was covered in ritual scars like concentric rings of branded runes, some hidden by the ceremonial sash tied over her eyes. An expression of bitterness and ill intent warped her features. At her hip were a brace of daggers. “You have something we seek,” she said, pointing at Bob. “Deliver unto us the crystal.” “Not with ten thousand men could you do this,” Varien said, shaking his head. “It is folly.” The woman scoffed as her face twisted into an evil sneer. “Why would I need ten thousand? I only need six.” She pointed an index finger at Celia. “But you could stand to lose one.” “Can you not count?” Varien said. “There are seven of your minions surrounding us.” “Seven is an eviller number,” the woman replied in exasperation. “If you only need six then you’ll be the first to lie down, then?” Varien continued. “Enough of this,” the woman spat. One of her robed minions cast a spell that sent a wreath of flames around Celia, freezing her in place behind a crystalline cocoon. The paladin screamed soundlessly as the flames buffeted her immobilized body. The flaming spearmen thrust their weapons at Bob. Varien threw his shield arm out to protect his companion, knocking one attack aside, but the others stuck him against the wall of the alley. Bob felt the smouldering tips of the spears scorch him as he was impaled. Another armored spearman stabbed at Varien, who grit his teeth and held his ground. The robed woman hurled herself towards the paladin, launching into the air as she aimed a kick at Varien’s head. Her heel knocked Varien back but did not stun him, and before she landed, she kicked at him twice more, landing one blow. Seeing the paladin was still on his feet, she cursed in a language that Varien didn’t recognize. Varien’s divine sense smelled the reek of fiendish evil about the woman. He bowed his helmeted head in mock salute. “If this is evidence of your unwise life choices, then so be it.” He cast mantle of flame and raised a gauntleted fist to cast celestial spirit . A golden ring began to appear in the air above him. “You shall not!” one of the robed magic-users hissed, and cast counterspell . “No, you shall not!” Varien shouted, counterspelling the counterspell . “NO, YOU SHALL NOT!” Another magic-user shouted, counterspelling the paladin’s counterspell . Bob sighed in exasperation and counterspelled in response. The magical energies of the countermeasure spells intertwined and cancelled the other out in dazzling fireworks. A seraph of Sune blinked into existence, emerging from Varien’s golden ring. The angelic creature began to sing in three-part overtone harmony. Fractures began to appear in the sky overhead as though the crystal simulacra. “I ask only for the strength to defend my people,” Varien said to the Seraph in reverence. The Seraph nodded and brandished her angelic mace, swinging it at the hooded woman. The martial artist reacted in a flash, pivoting while somehow aiming a returning strike against the seraph as she dodged out of the way. The Seraph had to duck out of the way to avoid the woman’s attack. “Your divine servants will not save you!” The woman hissed at Varien. “You underestimate their power,” Varien said. “This servant is not mine; it serves the Lady.” The Seraph swooped back in with a second strike that clocked the woman upside her hooded head. The martial artist staggered as the radiant energy blasted her backward. One of the robed casters moved towards Bob and cast hypnotic pattern . The glass boundaries of the simulated alleyway began to swirl and refract as rainbows began to play over its surfaces like illuminated undulations of oil on water. Bob, Purrwen, and Varien managed to resist the hypnotic effects of the magic. Another magic-user smiled at Bob and said, in a voice dripping with poisoned honey, “come now, Brother, give us the crystal.” Bob did not fall under the mage’s suggestion . “I do not consent,” he said firmly. Another magic-user gave them a mock frown. “Then it is time for you to be cleansed with fire!” She cast fireball . Magical fire blossomed inside the invisible borders of the simulacrum, the flames rolling along the walls, ceiling, and floor towards them, shellacking the area in molten flames. The three adventurers and the Seraph took the full force of the fireball. The armor-wearing cultists and the unarmed martial artist did not even flinch as the fireball rolled over them. The blast knocked Purrwen out of wildshape. Erwen spat out a hairball of sizzled cat hair and picked up a handful of glassy dust, spit into it, and cast erupting earth . There was a sound of shattering glass as the simulated alleyway splintered into shards that ground together like a glazier’s dump. The southern face of the alley, including a building edifice, crumbled into prismatic shards that caught the Seraph and several of the cultists in the roiling fountain of razor-sharp splinters. The martial artist jumped and spun, avoiding the worst of the damage, while her companions were caught up in the eruption. The Seraph’s song was cut-off mid-chorus as she was shredded by the fountaining splinters. “Dammit, Erwen!” Varien shouted. “That Seraph was on our side!” Erwen shrugged. Varien balled his gauntlets into fists. Celia struggled within the fiery cocooned, bashing its surface with her armored gauntlets, sending spiderwebs of cracks splintering across its surface. Bob watched the cloud of glass dust settle and he could see what looked like a non-refracted opening in the illusory alley that allowed the bright, unfiltered light of the afternoon sun into the semidarkness of the simulacrum. Bob cast chain lightning , sending a bolt of lightning that leapt from one attacker to another across the enemy’s front line. While the martial artist managed to duck out of the way, her compatriots were not so lucky – the magical lightning played over their bodies, making them jerk helplessly. Smoke began to curl from their writhing bodies.