Chapter Text
Rhaine knew that she was dreaming, but it was a dream of the void. Her eyelids were closed and could not be forced open, there was nothing but darkness all around her, and yet she felt as if she should be aware of something… something important. Her pulse quickened in alarm until a familiar presence slipped into her mind, a sense of calm permeating her being.
“Be at peace. I wish to speak with you.”
She felt her lips turn up slightly at the corners, even immersed in deep sleep as she was. “This is quite a different approach, my lord.”
“It is appropriate for what I have planned. I wish to offer you my gratitude… and to bestow a gift upon you.”
Her thoughts became a storm of questions. “Whatever for, my lord?”
There was a lengthy pause, the quiet darkness swirling around her… deep.
“Countless mortals put their faith and trust in the gods, but there are few whom we may trust in return. These few are exalted beyond all others, for they alone embody everything that we value. Throughout your life, you have shown me that you are one of these few, and I have ultimately seen fit to reward you for your dedicated service… the greatest boon that I may give to any mortal. Do not protest with thoughts of unworthiness. It is not something that you may refuse.”
Kelemvor paused again.
“You are now my Chosen.”
Rhaine could not even think of a reply before searing pain struck her right in the heart, spreading like wildfire through her limbs. All her muscles tensed as if she had been electrocuted, lightning tracing every vein in her body. She gasped like a fish, but could not breathe, silent tears trickling from the outer corners of her eyes. Her head swam, red and yellow sparks crisscrossing her vision.
But then, that pain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, instantly replaced with soothing warmth, and her limbs relaxed again. That warm serenity continued to grow to an intensity she had never felt before, his presence more clear than ever. And when he finally spoke once more, she shivered in surprise. She could actually feel his words as well as hear them, brushing against her mind, the emotion they carried tangible; he seemed slightly concerned but, at the same time, pleased…
“You are now immune to the ravages of time. From this moment forward, your body will no longer age, and you will find you are far more resilient against effects that would be lethal to most others. That is as much as I can protect you from death, however… you may still be slain by weapons or a well-chosen spell.
“You will also discover, among other abilities, that you can see the world much as I. This will take practice to maintain, but with focus, the faith of others will be as plain to you as the clothes they wear. Though you have not the authority to pronounce Judgment on any, you may use this information to your advantage in your future endeavors.
“But most importantly, I have entrusted in you the power of True Death. With but a single gesture, you may strip any undead being of all of its protections… magical or otherwise. This will hasten its destruction and the release of its spirit to my realm. But know that the power required to perform such an act is so great that you may only use it once in a day’s cycle. Choose carefully.
“The privileges of your rank are many, but I warn you: once a divine spark is ignited, the flame is destined to grow. In time, it will consume you in its fire, and you will no longer be permitted to walk the Prime. Such is the price of true immortality. Though the divine may touch the world of mortals, we may not stay among them for long. Thus, remember well – your ultimate fate will still be departure from this world… by death, or by ascension.
“Now rest, my Chosen… and when you awaken, your life will begin anew.”
With that, his presence withdrew, and she was instantly sunk into a deep, dreamless slumber.
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Rhaine woke well after dawn to the sound of someone desperately hammering away on her door, barely a pause between the knocks. She groggily pushed herself up, finding that she had been lying in the exact same position in which she had initially fallen asleep the night before. Her body had made quite the indention in the mattress.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” she called in a cracking voice as she stood up, wobbling a little with a bit of dizziness. The Doomguide then walked up to the door, opening it slightly to see who it was that was so insistent on speaking with her right now. “Yes?”
“Rhaine!”
Father Dunstan pushed the door further open and slammed into her, wrapping her up in a positively crushing embrace.
“Dunstan, what in the-?” she began, before she recalled her late-night promotion.
Oh gods, they know, she thought.
“You… you’re…?”
“Chosen, yes. His lordship broke the news last night in a rather uncomfortable fashion,” she answered flatly, rubbing her chest with one hand. It still hurt a little. “I’m assuming by your excitement that everyone else knows, too?”
He nodded emphatically, a grin plastered to his face. “All of us. I imagine every Kelemvorite in the Realms knows, now. Judging by everyone’s chatter, it was a simultaneous announcement through all of our dreams. It was brief, of course… simply amounting to ‘Rhaine Alcinea is my Chosen.’ Regardless, it was startling to say the least. The newest acolytes are still in a bit of a shock. The whole clergy is gathered in the nave, waiting on you.”
So much for laying low.
Rhaine shook her head as if to clear it. “What in the Hells are they waiting for? A speech? By the gods…” she trailed, running her hands through her tangled hair and closing her eyes in frustration.
He sighed, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “What do you expect? You’re the greatest thing that’s happened to this church, and you’ve just become even greater.”
Rhaine sucked in a deep breath. “All right. Give me some time to get dressed and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Dunstan nodded and ducked out, closing the door behind him. She then quickly garbed herself in her usual robes and ran a comb through her hair before making her way through the corridors and into the nave. Just as he had told her, everyone in the temple was gathered there, chattering away like magpies. Their gossip stopped abruptly as she walked in, though, silence rapidly falling over the crowd. There was a few moments of stillness before everyone, including the High Father, dropped to their knees.
“Wait… no… stop!” she cried, throwing out her hands. “Get up! By the gods, get up!”
They then jumped to their feet, wary of incurring her wrath. Their faces were writ with expressions of awe and surprise… even fear. She looked out over them all, shaking her head slowly. The silence that followed was almost deafening.
“I know,” she began, her voice shaking a little, “that this is all a shock to you. It’s not much better for me, believe me. I had no idea that this was coming, and quite frankly, I’m not certain that the best prophet in Faerûn could have predicted it. Or, perhaps they could have… perhaps others see something in me that I do not see in myself. Either way, what is done is done.
“That being said, nothing about our relationship has changed. I am not a saint. I am not an authority figure over the rest of you. I’m just another servant of the Lord of the Dead, just like all of you. Yes, I’ve been lucky. Yes, I’ve been blessed. But this could just as easily have happened to any of you.”
She paused a moment, and then continued, “Take it as a sign that Kelemvor is watching you. All of you. Serve him faithfully, and he will reward you. Now please, return to your duties and leave me in peace.”
An overwhelming sound of shuffling feet filled the nave as everyone there quickly dispersed, scrambling to obey her command as if they had not heard a single word that she had just said to them. Rhaine waited until they all left her alone in the nave before looking up at the statue behind the altar and sighing heavily.
My lord, what have you done to me?
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She picked up her old journal. Father Dunstan had given it to her before she left on Gerard’s orders, what seemed like ages ago. It chronicled her adventures in Neverwinter and Rashemen… along with her recent forays into the Dalelands and Cormyr. Leather-bound and stamped with Kelemvor’s symbol in gold, the book bore signs of much punishment – it was water stained and slightly burned in places where stray magic and rain both had penetrated her backpack.
As she flipped through the pages, she realized that the dates of her entries had become farther and farther apart as time progressed. Still, the journal was almost full, now; there were only a few blank pages remaining. Sighing heavily again, she sat at her desk and held the book open with one hand, dipping her quill into her inkwell with the other. After a few moments of silence, she began to write, the tip of her pen scratching rhythmically as she put her thoughts to paper.
Death is a natural part of life. So I have been taught since my youth. Never before, though, have I realized that we mortals may die more than once. Death is more than just the termination of the physical body. It is a partial end to what was, and the refinement of what remains.
Thus, parts of me have died… and I have become the stronger for it.
First was the death of my innocence. The Passing of Father Gerard, the brutal loss of my childhood friend, Amie Fern, and the demises of so many others with whom I had lived, shook me from my idealistic mindset and thrust me into the coldness of reality. Yet, I grew to be a better woman because of the experience… my eyes were no longer colored with the rosy tint of eternal optimism.
Second was the death of my doubt. My journeys to Neverwinter and beyond tested my faith further than most souls could ever withstand. But through the fire of pain and suffering I found new hope, and at last the words of my beloved god shattered all uncertainty. In the very realm of death itself I found life again. My faith and my spirit both were reborn.
Now, the touch of my god has brought death again. This time, it is an identity that has Passed… I am no longer a mere priestess, serving in his temples until age severs my ability to function. Though I mourn for such simplicity, it is forever lost to me. Yet, I have at once been fortified and reshaped by that same immortal hand. Indeed, I am his hand upon the Prime, now.
The scratching paused as she looked up, absentmindedly playing with the feather of her quill. There was only a small bit of blank parchment left, now. She had to be economical with her words.
After a few minutes, she smiled to herself and began to write again.
I have been born again for the highest purpose. For is there any higher honor than serving as the right hand of one’s god?
What better place, then, to end the Tale of my mortal days?
Another pause.
But as with death, the end is never truly the end, but the beginning of something new.
Satisfied, she set down her quill and blew softly onto the parchment to dry the ink. Then, taking a leather strap from her bag, she bound the tome closed. Finally, she produced a scroll from that same bag – one of a handful that Safiya had given her during her stay in Rashemen. Unrolling the magical manuscript, she set one hand upon the journal and whispered the words writ upon the page.
At once, the journal glowed with a violet light and became hard as stone. Now, it was entirely unreadable to anyone, including herself. The charm would only fail if she purposefully dispelled it, perished, or ascended. Such was the strength of the Red Wizard’s enchantments.
Smiling again, she took the journal and set it upon the small shelf above her desk. There it would remain, untouched, for a great many years.
Rhaine’s Tale.