33 - 2/6/25 : Paradise Lost

"Without a compass wand'ring, lost in lies of faith,   Only alive in fighting Death's amber embrace.   On Hands and knees we pray to gods we've never seen,   The final hour upon us, no more time to breathe."   - Excerpt from a poem written by an unknown author, discovered in the study of Antecedent Minerva Iriolarthas

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  The hectic battle in the High Court of Iriolarthas soon turned sharply in the Lonesome Few's favor. Avarice, threatening the party with the wrath of Levistus, was quickly cornered by Alith, forced into melee combat that she was not prepared for.  

"Your hate is misplaced. If you seek the perpetrator of the Everlasting Rime, you need only look to your brass-handed conspirator, who meddled in powers far beyond him and paid the price. What has he done to deserve vindication for his arrogance?"

  Despite her bravado, Avarice could not withstand Alith's onslaught, and fell to the might of Ashenglow. At the same time, Captain Cinderswift was quickly losing ground, his magics faltering as he was surrounded by both the summoned Cloud Giant and the gigantic Ragna. Despite this, he refused to give in to fear or concede defeat.  

"All I did, I did to survive! You think you're so different from me? Tell that to all the families of the barbarians and duergar you've cut down like stalks of wheat. See what they think of your justifications!"

  The captain's voyage, however, was finally brought to an end when Ragna grasped him and shattered his spine with a tight clutch. Ragna's revenge was finally extracted, and the devil Mendrion was faring no better as he too was quickly surrounded while his allies fell around him. Yet still, the devil only ever smiled, utterly convinced of the eventual comeuppance his mortal foes would one day face, while he would only return to Stygia when slain.  

"Can you still smell the smoke rising from Lystheim? Can you feel the heat on the nape of your neck? How glorious it must have been, to have witnessed the destruction my lord may incite with but a command! Do you think yourselves saviors? I wonder what the dead of the six towns lost to blades and dragonfire would think of your misplaced pride."

  Mendrion's bravado was silenced as Veszaltyrr closed the gap and thrust his brass arm into a weak point of the devil's shattered armor. The sorcerer ripped Mendrion's black, spiky heart from his chest, and soon the devil faded to naught but ash.   Once the court fell silent, another echo of Nevara appeared and spoke.  

"I always believed that you would save us, beloved. I never meant for things to go so horribly wrong. I would have broken the world for you. What use is this wretched realm, when it allows a thing of purest beauty to fall prey to evil?

  After their harrowing encounter, the party decided to take a moment to rest while Veszaltyrr examined the Spindle. Although the artifact was from a time far beyond his knowledge, the sorcerer was able to confirm its function; the Spindle was projecting a powerful anti-divinity field, which was the likely reason that La Saia had not entered the lost city to stop them. The party took this as a blessing of luck, though Veszaltyrr wondered what effect the Spindle's field might have on the Mythallar.   While they rested, the party members that had drank from the goblet in the House of the Arcane found themselves drawn to the nearby chairs in the High Court, with one chair in particular matching the school of magic that encompassed their goblet-given boons resonating for each member. Figuring this to be some sort of puzzle, Ragna placed his foot on the seat of High Necromancer Cadavix, and his necromancy boon from the goblet reacted with the chair. A stable portal opened up nearby, giving the party passage to the study of Antecedent Minerva. They decided to finish examining the High Court first, however.   All that they were able to locate was a small library nook, which Melfina immediately took a shining too. She felt like she could lose herself in the tomes and scrolls within, but her excitement was underscored by the bitter reminder of her rapidly approaching mortality. Claiming a scroll of mental prison from the collection, Melfina joined her companions through the portal.   Antecedent Iriolarthas languished in her study, unsure if the new arrivals were real. All around her, a palpable darkness interspersed by weaving ribbons of light much like a violet aurora weaved overhead. The sight would have been beautiful, if not for the aura of wrongness felt in the lich's presence. The party spoke to her, believing themselves doomed to fight her, but their demeanor softened as they spoke and realized the depths of the tragedy inflicted upon Iriolarthas.   The Lonesome Few believed Minerva to be a victim of Levistus and her ancestors that sold their bloodline to Stygia, and tried to convince her to stand down, but Minerva remained firm that she keep her promise to Nevara to endure and exist until they could finally be reunited.   When asked why she could not simply submit to the afterlife, Minerva revealed that her soul was bound to Levistus due to the pact the Iriolarthas dynasty struck with the archdevil, and that no amount of faith in a deity would change the trajectory of her essence after death. She also refused to let the Mythallar be destroyed, stating that it would break her promise just as surrendering to death would.   Minerva warned the party that she could not let them leave, for their souls would provide valuable sustenance to her undead form and would help her in the struggle to persist. With no recourse left, the party was forced to do battle with the lich, who was joined by her nothic minions; including the newly transformed nothic prime that once was Xerophon, all of which were slain during the fight.   Antecedent Iriolarthas wielded all the powers of the Arcane Octad and assailed the party with deadly spells, wielding potent necromantic magic and creating stalwart barriers. However, the Lonesome Few soon realized that her barriers were weak to ice - an ironic twist of fate, given her bond with the woman that became La Saia - and the lich's defenses were weathered down until she was forced to her knees.   Taking advantage of the lapse in concentration and the shaking of Minerva's willpower in that moment, Levistus reached out to the lich that he forcefully created and possessed her body, transforming it into an abomination of flesh, bone, and blades.  

The force of your blow forces the lich to stumble ungracefully, in a stark contrast to her solemn and almost ethereal demeanor. Minerva looks up at you, and her dead eyes shake with desperation and anger; for a moment, she appears almost human.   Then a most inhuman voice fills the room.   "A LAPSE IN YOUR SPIRIT, AT LONG LAST!" reverberates a powerful, projected voice that seems to emanate from all walls of the room at once. "WHAT A GIFT YOU HAVE GIVEN ME, LAPDOGS OF THE FROSTMAIDEN! AFTER CENTURIES, I MAY FINALLY TAKE THIS INFURIATING STALEMATE, AND BREAK IT MYSELF!"   Iriolarthas' eyes shoot open wide as horror and shock spread across her vein-streaked face. "No… no, you will not have me! You cannot! I will not break my promise!"   She opens her mouth to continue her protests, but no sound comes forth. A golden light overtakes the texture of her eyes, casting a blinding ray upon your vision as the sounds of bones cracking and swords being drawn fill the room. The silhouette of the Antecedent expands, becoming something most inhuman in mere moments. The temperature of the study drops sharply, and a powerful aura of hate fills the very air. As your eyes finally adjust, you look upon the foul form that Levistus has forced upon the lich that had resisted his machinations for so long.   "AVARICE'S FAILURE WAS DISAPPOINTING, YES. BUT YOU HAVE SERVE ME EVEN BETTER THAN SHE. EVEN MENDRION HAS YET TO BRING TO ME SUCH A BOON!"   The blade-wreathed undead abomination extends its vicious claws outward, and Levistus' voice continues to echo across the very cavern holding Ythryn.   "NOW, I MAY FINALLY LAY HANDS UPON THE MYTHALLAR, AND TAKE THE SOULS THAT ARE RIGHTFULLY MINE! ON THIS DAY, MY BINDINGS SHALL BE TORN, AND ALL MY SIBLINGS WILL FEEL THE FULL WEIGHT OF THE HATRED THAT HAS SIMMERED IN MY HEART FOR A MILLENNIA! ASMODEUS SHALL BOW BEFORE ME AND BEG FOR MY FORGIVENESS, AND NESSUS WILL BE OVERTAKEN BY THE BLACK ICE OF STYGIA!"   One of the wicked claws extends a pointer finger at you, and the sharpened blades wreathing the lich's figure twitch in anticipation.   "BUT OF COURSE, THERE IS A MATTER I MUST SETTLE. FOR STANDING IN THE WAY OF MY LIBERATION, FOR DISPOSING OF MY MINIONS, AND FOR REFUSING MY DEMANDS, I SHALL FEED YOUR SOULS TO THE MYTHALLAR MYSELF! YOU WILL FUEL MY ASCENSION, KNOWING THAT NOTHING ELSE YOU HAVE DONE HAS EVER MATTERED! NOW ATTACK ME WORMS, IF YOU DARE!"

  Levistus then attacked the party in the form of the Stygian Marionette, utilizing devastating magics and vicious weaponry to wear down his enemies. A lost spell known as aurora nihilus was brought upon them, causing catastrophic damage that they were only barely able to avoid. Yet even this was not enough to stop the undaunted Lonesome Few, and the lich's broken form was brought low. As Levistus' will faded from the creature, he threatened them and condemned them to be the subjects of his undying hatred for all eternity.  

As the final blow is struck, one-by-one the blades wreathing the lich's form begin to break free and clatter to the ground, shattering into specks of blackened dust. The body of the Stygian Marionette follow suit, crumbling and dispersing like ashes caught in a gust.   "YOU THINK YOURSELVES VICTORIOUS?" Levistus barks angrily, as the aura of pure hate in the air grows heavier, more erratic. "YOU THINK ME DEFEATED? YOU THINK ME A MONSTER THAT YOU CAN SLAY WITH BLADE AND SPELL? SUCH MORTAL HUBRIS! I AM NO MERE DEVIL! I AM THE BITE OF ICE, TEARING AWAY YOUR SKIN IN THE DEAD OF WINTER! I AM THE BILE THAT RISES IN YOUR THROAT WHEN YOU GIVE INTO FURY AND MURDEROUS RAGE! I AM THE TRUTH IN EVERY LIE YOU SPEAK! YOU CAN NO MORE SLAY ME THAN YOU CAN SLAY THE VERY CONCEPT OF HATE!"   Despite his protests, Levistus' voice grows more distant, but the echoes remain as they bounce off of the far ends of the frozen cavern. The Marionette cracks and bends at impossible angles, sinew intersecting bone and black blood spilling onto the blackened stone below.   "YOU WILL FEAR MY RETRIBUTION IN EVERY SHADOW, IN EVERY SECOND GLANCE. WHEN YOU BREATHE YOUR LAST, I SHALL BREATHE DOWN YOUR NECK. I WILL REMEMBER YOUR FACES, BRAND YOUR SOULS WITH MY MARK, AND SEEK YOUR MISERY FOR ALL ETERNITY! AND WHEN YOU ARE AT LAST UNDER MY CONTROL, DIVORCED OF ALL FREE WILL AND DEFIANCE, YOU WILL REALIZE THE DEPTHS OF THE CONTEMPT I HOLD FOR YOU! MY ONLY REGRET IS THAT I WILL ONLY HAVE AN ETERNITY TO TORTURE YOU!"   The rest of the Lich's body gives way, fading into a mixture of ash and a viscous, murky oil that seeps into the very stone of the spire. All that remains is a single human skull, plated in chardalyn and affixed with two sapphires for eyes. The skull sits deathly still upon the floor for a moment… and then rises into the air, slowly and shakingly. The remains of Iriolarthas now float pathetically before you, meeting your gaze with dead gemstones. The weight of hatred has been replaced by the burden of promises unfulfilled, bonds broken, and love stolen by the mistakes of men who have died long, long ago.   The skull slowly begins to turn about, floating towards the balcony to the south.

  All that remained was the chardalyn-plated skull, which floated into the air. Alithkav and Veszaltyrr realized this to be Minerva's broken demilich form, though it was unusually docile for such a creature.   Ragna spoke to the demilich, learning that her soul was inextricably bound to the Mythallar. Veszaltyrr realized that this meant the Mythallar was Minerva's phylactery; a cruel joke played upon her by Levistus when he transformed her into a lich as punishment. This meant that if the Mythallar were to be destroyed, Minerva would cease to exist, and her soul would be consigned to Levistus into perpetuity.   Trying to work out some sort of solution with the voiceless demilich, Ragna asked if such a fate could be avoided, or if Minerva's soul could be unbound from the Mythallar. Minerva had no answer, simply floating silently. Veszaltyrr protested this line of inquiry, stating that while he was aggrieved by the cruelty placed upon the lich by Levistus, he did not believe that attempting to save her was worth risking their attempt to end the Eternal Winter.   With no more questions, Minerva gently floated out of her study's window, disappearing into Ythryn's streets. The party then searched the study for items and writings of note. Melfina recovered Iriolarthas' staff of power and decided to wield it herself.   Veszaltyrr was able to locate the Mythallar's operation manual, written by a custodian of the artifact long ago. This manual detailed the Mythallar's precise, yet surprisingly simple mode of operation.  

The Mythallar of Ythryn is an ingenious invention, yet it is simultaneously somehow simple. Any common man, no matter how unskilled in magic, may attune to its power and command the arcane to his desires. We believe this quirk was an intentional flaw on behalf of Levistus, that he may never have to depend on only the strongest of Hollowfaust's mages to see to his designs. Regardless, this flaw of simplicity necessitates the strict security that protects the Mythallar at all times, yet it also makes its operation a simple thing.   Any number of creatures may attune to the device. Traditionally, the Arcane Octad and the Antecedent join in this endeavor, to ensure that each has an equal voice in the proceedings to come. Once the attunement is complete, the Mythallar will await a command from one of the attuners. The scope of this command is yet untested; all recorded uses have been to sustain the weave-field that emboldens magic throughout Hollowfaust and gives it its power as an arcane marvel. It is thought to be equivalent to a wish spell in raw magical potential, but previous antecedents fear that an overly complicated request may cause the Mythallar to overload and collapse. The results of such a collapse would be, in charitable terminology, apocalyptic. It is best to measure the strength of the remaining souls held in the necropolis before attempting any such action; or better yet, attempting no such action in the first place except in the most dire of circumstances.   Once the command is given, the Mythallar shall voice a request of consent from each attuner, one at a time, to assure consensus among its wielders. If consensus is reached, the Mythallar shall proceed to execute the given command to the best of its ability. If a consensus cannot be reached, the attuners must either break off their attunement and reconvene at a later time, or force each other out through a battle of wills until one side reigns unanimous.   By covenant with Lord Levistus, the Antecedent and their attendees of the Arcane Octad are given the authority to veto and abort any command given to the Mythallar. This has been rendered a moot point in recent years with the new security measure crafted by the Octad; the Rite of the Arcane Octad is known in full only to each archmage and the Antecedent, and its performance is now necessary to access the Spire, and the staff of power that serves as the force field's key.   Although a joint creation of the first Antecedent of the Iriolarthas dynasty and the archdevil Levistus himself, the Mythallar's true nature remains something of a mystery to its stewards in the present day. Is it merely an arcane battery? Is it a living thing of phenomenal power? Is it a knot in the weave, defying the laws of magic itself? Research has shown that its capacity to direct and siphon souls would make it the ideal phylactery, should an Antecedent be granted the right to pursue lichdom. However, it is of the opinion of the Arcane Octad that such power should never be given to one sole guardian of the Mythallar. Accountability must be upheld.

  Ragna was able to locate notes penned by Minerva herself regarding the Spindle held in the chamber of stasis below. Handing it off to the mages of the party, the group learned the truth of the Spindle, and how it was the primary tool used by Nevara and Minerva to sabotage the Mythallar centuries ago.  

I write these words for the sake of battling the dulled passage of time. My mind holds only temples for regret and lost hope. My only wish is for Nevara, may she still yet live despite all that has transpired against us, to discover these words and look upon them. You must know what happened to us, my snowbird, and you must not blame yourself. The fault lies with the men of yesteryear, and their desire to sell the world for legacies that only crumble to dust in time.   Long have I reflected upon the Spindle, and how its malfunction brought us to the ruin that I languish in today. We should have known better, but we were so blinded by idealism, the drive to make our people better than they were. I suppose sharp hindsight is but another boon afforded by the curse of lichdom.   The plan was to tap into the object's ability to disrupt the power of divinities in its immediate radius. We correctly surmised that Levistus, although not a true deific power, would be affected by this as well, given his status as an being of significant worship. The Spindle would be capable of preventing his ability to manifest avatars, perceive anything in the area of effect, or send any of his planar minions directly there. His only recourse would be to act through the eyes and bodies of his minions in the area; we had counted on this being a non-factor, in our undue hubris.   We sought to disrupt the transmission of souls and render it inaccessible to the devil, while retaining whatever souls remained in the Mythallar's repository so as to facilitate a smooth and peaceful transition to the abandonment of its use. We quickly realized that the Mythallar was not designed to ever cease functioning, and the disruption of the soul transference initiated a deadly feedback loop. The whole of Ythryn collapsed within an hour, leaving few survivors.   I did not fear Levistus' wrath due to the Spindle's presence, and this was my undoing. As part of my bloodline's pact with the devil, I ranked among those named his servants. He was easily able to place the curse of lichdom upon me despite the anti-divinity field, and he bound my soul to the Mythallar as my phylactery. My last act before my will was subsumed was to teleport Nevara into the distance of the surrounding snowfields, knowing that she would thrive in such a place far away from our destruction.   Ever since, Levistus has made attempts near-daily to forcibly break my willpower, to erode my focus and command me to do his bidding. He wishes for me to destroy the Spindle, place my hands upon the Mythallar, and then complete the objective it was created to do. But I shall not let him. With every ounce of the fractured remains of my soul, I will resist, and I will hold Stygia back from taking anything more from me. As long as the Spindle remains active, the Mythallar will not function for any that somehow breach its defenses.   In times of despair, when my mind feels close to breaking from the pressure, I listen to the song on the winds that somehow reaches me even in this isolated cavern. I listen to the familiar words, the beautiful voice that carries them, and hold unto them as if they were the last drops of water in a never-ending desert. Until such a day that I can finally fulfill my promise, I will hold the line. Levistus be damned.

  The way was decided, then; in order to operate the Mythallar and siphon its energies into a destination vessel such as the Heart of Cygnus, the Spindle had to be deactivated, even though doing so would allow La Saia to enter Ythryn. The party descended back to the High Court, set to begin the final stage of their journey together. As they left, the voice of Nevara softly echoed throughout the now quiet study.  

"I had not laid eyes upon you for centuries. I wandered the frozen wastes, looking for anything that could reverse the injustice inflicted upon you by the archdevil. I was so desperate to hear your voice again, but I could not bear to look upon what you had been reduced to. My shining ebon star, my reason for living, I beg your forgiveness every day. It is this sorrow that pushed me into the cold arms of the voice on the wind. You always hated the cold, my darling.   "You were the very air in my lungs, the warmth in my chest. But the Frostmaiden can only preserve by freezing, by taking away the breath of living things. If this is my only recourse, then I will gladly do it to keep you here, where we always belonged. Our refuge. Our cage. I become La Saia more with each day, and she becomes me in lock-step... but I will never cease being your Nevara. I persist for the faintest hope that someday you will forgive me."

  Upon approaching the Spindle, the Lonesome Few once again encountered the arch-magen Everlast, who was surprised and pleased to see that they survived their encounter with the Antecedent. He correctly guessed that they intended to deactivate the Spindle, and he decided to render unto them his assistance; after all, one of his orders was to assist in the reconstruction of Ythryn, but he was never expressly forbidden to assist in its final demise, either. Thanking the party for giving him a good show for once in his many long centuries, Everlast asked them only to live interesting lives, should they survive the next few hours. He then disappeared into the Spindle, deactivating it from within.   A massive burst of energy erupted from the Spindle, but was contained by a barrier generated by Everlast before it could harm the party. When the blast was subdued, the barrier evaporated, bathing the group in a rejuvenating light that restored their vigor.   The Spindle was now inactive. Melfina picked up all that was left behind by Everlast; a scroll that detailed the spell necessary to create the magen, the aptly named create magen. However, she did not have the time or materials to execute the ritual, and instead stowed it for possible future use.   Soon after the Spindle was deactivated, the room nigh-instantaneously froze over. La Saia had found them, and she was fast approaching.   With their bodies invigorated and their spirits steeled with conviction, the Lonesome Few departed the Spire of Iriolarthas and approached the Mythallar of Ythryn. With Iriolarthas' staff of power in hand, they were able to bypass the force-field sealing it off from the rest of the world. Although the Mythallar itself exuded a crushing aura of pure arcane might, the party was most alerted by an Echo of Nevara that stood before it; an Echo that turned about and looked at the party with peculiar awareness of their presence.  

"So… here we are… at the beginning and end of all things. I wonder… can you see me? Hear my voice? Or do I sing to ears that cannot heed my song?"

  The party was able to speak to this Echo, who seemed to be a manifestation of what little of High Evoker Nevara remained within La Saia. The party asked if there was anything that could be done to spare Minerva and free her of the grasp of Levistus, and Nevara gave a request as an answer; she asked for them to choose La Saia herself as the destination for the Mythallar's stored souls, giving her power beyond that of a lesser deity, and power enough to perhaps free Minerva once and for all.   Ragna favored this course of action, as it would free those wrongly imprisoned by Levistus and possibly avoid a fight with La Saia altogether. She reasoned that this was the best of both worlds, and that if she was given what she wished, La Saia would have no reason to maintain the Everlasting Rime.   Veszaltyrr fiercely objected, however, on the grounds that there was no guarantee that La Saia would cooperate and end the Eternal Winter if asked. In his unshakable loathing of divinites and gods, Veszaltyrr asserted that whatever was left of Nevara in La Saia was a facade, or a dying ember at best. Melfina agreed with her master, stating that as the goddess of the cold, La Saia likely had no inclination to end any exhibition of her authority of the ice of winter. After all, it was in her nature. Alith also threw her voice in with Veszaltyrr and Melfina, unwilling to put her trust in the goddess they had opposed for months.   Ragna stood his ground, however, trying to advocate for Nevara's solution. It was his belief that by allowing La Saia to end the Eternal Winter herself, she would also possibly be able to reverse Melfina's condition and save her life given that it was her magic that caused it, while also gaining power that she needed to take Minerva's soul from Levistus' clutches.   With anguish in his voice, Veszaltyrr stated that he felt great sympathy for the two lost Hyperborean mages, and that it tore him apart inside to pass over a possible cure for his student. However, he could not entrust the opportunity that presented itself to him to the hands of a divinity. The Mythallar was his best, and possibly last chance to restore the Heart of Cygnus, which he intended to use as the spearhead in his crusade against Lolth. To refuse this, he believed, would be a betrayal of Melfina and the sacrifice forced upon her.   Yet still, Ragna insisted upon seeking another way to achieve his goals, and to not go along with the path pre-ordained before them as his people had been forced to do so many times before. With Veszaltyrr's grim determination on display, Ragna's trust of the sorcerer quickly began to dwindle. Ragna had long since learned the danger in following how things 'had always been done', and made one final plea to the group to go forward with Nevara's proposal.   Veszaltyrr, in his final statement, said that he would ultimately oppose any attempt to take the Mythallar's power from him. Yet it was Melfina's last request, for Ragna to trust her and her master, that finally made the barbarian relent. Although still aggrieved by Veszaltyrr's motivations and in disagreement over their course of action, Ragna decided to go along with the decision reached by the rest of the party. At the very least, they could end the Eternal Winter on their own terms. With consensus reached, the Echo of Nevara flickered out of sight as the temperature around the blazing Mythallar began to drop sharply. Nevara's words echoed out one last time, capturing a haunting image of Ythryn's final moments.  

"Minerva? Can you hear me? What's wrong? The ritual should have proceeded just as we planned! Please, speak to me! You have to fight! We have not come this far just for Levistus to take you from me! We were just trying to do what is right!"

  The party all attuned to the Mythallar at Veszaltyrr's request, for he wished to ensure they were all of one mind before proceeding. Once all four had attuned, Veszaltyrr spoke his command to the Mythallar; to siphon what souls remained within into the Heart of Cygnus, and then use the power generated by the transference to end the Eternal Winter. One by one, the Mythallar asked for the consent of each attuner. Yet just as it received its fourth answer, the Mythallar asked the question a fifth time, speaking to High Evoker Nevara. The icy voice of La Saia echoed forth with a resounding 'No', and snow began to fall around the shining beacon in the center of Ythryn…