Prototype's Gate

After a rapid series of phases, the boat materialized beneath the dome of silver light, its hull now submerged in the dark, cold waters. Alex, still holding the ship with an iron grip, carefully maneuvered it toward the dock situated under the Inn. He halted at the entrance, mindful not to damage the ship’s sails against the stone wall of the Inn above.

Already, he could sense clusters of minds approaching his position, their intentions unclear but their presence undeniable.

Forming a psychic link with a few passengers aboard the ship, Alex issued a brief command: "Shout to them not to shoot—before it's too late."

The passengers, their voices trembling with urgency, quickly relayed his warning to the harpers gathering on the dock. As the words echoed through the night, Alex released his hold on the ship, allowing his form to shrink back to its normal size.

The water around him exploded in a shower of spray as Alex burst from the depths, landing gracefully on the right side of the U-shaped dock. The water clinging to his frame instantly evaporated, leaving behind wisps of steam that curled into the cool air.

For a moment, everything was still—until a volley of arrows nearly struck him, loosed by the Harpers stationed on the dock. Recognizing him at the last moment, they held their fire, though their hands remained tight on their weapons, eyes narrowing with suspicion and unease. Their gazes shifted to the ship, where the rescued prisoners stood crowded on the deck, their expressions a mix of fear and desperation. Only the tieflings appeared somewhat composed, their eyes darting about as they searched for a safe way off the ship.

Suddenly, Alex heard a soft thud behind him, followed by the cold, unmistakable sensation of something sharp pressing against the back of his neck. The pressure was firm, and the intention clear—one wrong move, and his spine would be severed.

"No running this time . " A feminine voice said behind his back .

“Don’t kill him! He’s the one who saved our lives!” a little girl aboard the ship shouted, her voice piercing through the tense atmosphere. Before she could say more, an adult quickly covered her mouth with a palm, silencing her.

Jaheira, standing at the edge of the dock, looked at the ragged group of people huddled on the ship's deck. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, took in the scene. After a moment of consideration, she sheathed her scimitar and turned to the others.

“Anchor the ship to the deck,” Jaheira ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. Then, without looking back, she added, “And you—follow me. We have a lot to discuss.”

Alex nodded. Before following Jaheira, he turned to the people aboard the ship, his gaze searching for the little girl. She was still watching him intently, her wide eyes filled with a mix of fear and gratitude. He offered her a small wave, a gesture of reassurance, before turning and following Jaheira’s brisk footsteps into the inn.

As Alex walked , he couldn't help but notice the eyes of every Harper they passed. Their gazes were heavy, filled with suspicion, curiosity, and a hint of fear. It was clear that their first encounter with him had left a lasting impression, one that was not easily forgotten.

On his right , at the edge of the island, Alex's attention was drawn to a small, somber gathering. Three figures stood around a makeshift memorial—a pile of rocks adorned with flowers and candles, their flames flickering gently in the breeze. A woman knelt by the pile, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly. Another woman stood beside her, her hand resting comfortingly on the kneeling woman’s shoulder, her own tears silently falling. A few steps back, a dwarf man stood alone, his gaze fixed on the ground, fists clenched tightly as if holding back a flood of emotions.

As Alex's double relayed its memories to him, a flood of images filled his mind, revealing the harrowing ordeal that Wyll's party had faced. They had stumbled upon this grieving group while trying to reach the safety of the dome, pursued relentlessly by the undead. The name "Yonas" surfaced in Alex's thoughts, a name now etched in the hearts of those mourning by the makeshift memorial.

A somber reflection took hold of him. Yonas had people who mourned him, people who would remember him with sorrow and love. But Alex couldn't help but wonder, "If I were to die, would anyone mourn me?"

In the world he had left behind, the answer might have been simple. His sister, Dana, had always been his rock, the one person who saw the good in him even when he couldn’t see it himself. And Karen, his girlfriend, had once been his light, the person who gave him hope and purpose. But that was before—before he became what he was now, before the choices he made twisted his path beyond recognition.

He wasn't sure anymore. The monster he had become, the things he had done—could Dana or Karen still find it in their hearts to mourn him? Or would they feel relief, a dark sense of freedom from the shadow that he had become? The thought gnawed at him, an ache buried deep beneath .

His gaze lingered on the grieving trio, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. The weight of his past pressed down on him like an anchor, dragging him into the depths of doubt. What had he become? Was there anything left in him worth mourning?

Jaheira, sensing Alex’s momentary pause, glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. She waited for him to catch up, her silence urging him to continue without the need for words.

Alex resumed his stride, the echoes of the mourners’ sobs lingering in his mind as they continued on their way.

As they entered the inn, they were intercepted by Zevlor, who rushed towards them, his face etched with concern.

"I saved them," Alex said preemptively, cutting off Zevlor’s unspoken question. "They’re at the dock in the back."

Relief washed over Zevlor's face as he nodded quickly, a small smile tugging at his lips. Without another word, he hurried off toward the dock, eager to reunite with those who had been rescued.

Inside the inn, the warmth and scents hit Alex, a stark contrast to the cold waters and tense encounters of the night. He scanned the room, recognizing faces he had seen before.

At one of the tables, Alfira and Ellyka sat close together. Ellyka’s hand was wrapped tightly around Alfira’s, who didn’t look well—pale and withdrawn. When they noticed Alex, their eyes met his for a brief moment before they quickly looked away, uncomfortable and unsure of what to make of him.

Further in, a door to the right burst open, and Astarion, Wyll , and Gale came rushing out, nearly colliding with one another in their haste. They looked disheveled, as if they had just woken up, which was confirmed by the sight of the rumpled beds in the room they emerged from.

Alex looked at the trio, and they looked back at him. Silence hung in the air as they quickly scrambled to their feet.

"Do you want something from me?" Alex asked, his gaze steady as he addressed them.

Before anyone could respond, Jaheira stepped in, her voice firm but calm. "You can talk to them later," she said, gesturing towards a set of stairs on the far left of the inn.

Alex's eyes followed her direction, and to his surprise, he spotted someone he hadn't expected to see here—Barcus, the deep gnome he had saved from the goblins and again at the Grymforge. Barcus was sitting alone at a table in the corner, intently mixing various chemicals. A set of condensers and alembics lay before him, bubbling and hissing as he carefully tended to his concoctions.

"Barcus," Alex called out telepathically.

The deep gnome nearly dropped the vial he was holding, startled by the sudden intrusion in his mind. His eyes darted around the room in a panic until they landed on Alex, who was already halfway up the stairs.

"Address me as Zeus if you want to speak," Alex instructed, his mental tone leaving no room for argument. "I need to keep my other persona a secret."

"What?" Barcus blurted out, his voice too loud for the quiet room. Realizing his mistake, he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment.

Jaheira barely reacted to Barcus’s outburst. She continued to lead Alex upstairs, around the inside balcony , opening the door to a room on the right side of the inn.

The door creaked open, revealing a tidy, well-kept room. Candles flickered softly, casting a warm, gentle glow that illuminated the space. To the right, a fireplace crackled quietly, its flames offering a comforting warmth that contrasted with the chilly night outside. The old furniture, though worn with age, was impeccably clean, each piece placed with care. It was a cozy, inviting scene, but something was off. The faint smell of blood lingered in the air, barely noticeable but impossible to ignore.

Jaheira motioned for Alex to follow as she walked ahead and opened a door leading to a small balcony. There was another door to his left, covered with a blanket, leading to a different part of the balcony that wrapped around the inn. The hinges on that door were broken, the wood splintered and twisted, evidence of a past struggle.

Through the open door, Alex saw a woman standing in prayer beside a table draped with a white cloth. The balcony was dimly lit by the soft glow of white candles burning steadily around her. In the center of the table sat a simple wooden bowl filled with milk. To her left and right were two mirrors—one small and square , perched on a delicate side table, and the other larger, its surface gleaming faintly in the candlelight.

This was clearly an altar, and Alex could already guess which deity it was dedicated to. The woman raised her right hand, and a silvery white light appeared above her palm, shimmering like a tiny star. She moved her hand in a slow, deliberate pattern, guiding the light as it traced a perfect sphere in the air.

Alex's gaze drifted upwards, where the moon hung low in the sky, its light spilling over the scene. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the moonlight grew brighter, as if responding to the woman's prayer. She gently pushed the light away from her, and it floated towards the dome , merging seamlessly with it.

The serenity of the moment was almost otherworldly. The delicate interplay of light and shadow, the quiet reverence of the woman, and the soft flicker of the candles created a sacred atmosphere. Alex watched in silence . He could sense the deep connection the woman had with her deity ... Selûne .

After finishing the ritual the woman brought her palm to her mouth and silently caught . She slowlie turned to them as she realized she was beeing watched . Alex took a good look at her .

The woman had a striking presence, marked by her silver-white hair that felt just above her shoulders in tousled, wavy layers. Her piercing green eyes were framed by subtle, dark makeup around her eyes. She was wearing a finely crafted suit of armor, predominantly silver with intricate patterns and designs etched into the metal. The armor was a blend of both elegance and functionality, with a high collar and shoulder plates that curve slightly upward, giving her an air of authority.

Her armor was further adorned with star-like symbols. The overall design was sleek and form-fitting, highlighting her athletic build while also providing ample protection. A silver circlet rested on her forehead, adding to her regal and mystical appearance. The armor also includes a long, flowing tabard that draped down to her feet, with the same intricate designs seen throughout her armor.

A ornate staff was strapped to her back, . Her demeanor was serious and focused despite Alex apperence.

"I didn't realize I had an audience," Isobel said as she gracefully walked past them into the room. The subtle clink of her armor accompanied her movements.

The others followed her inside, the room’s warm light reflecting off the intricate patterns of her armor.

"First, I want to thank you for saving me from Marcus. I'm Isobel. Pleased to meet you," she added with a small, respectful bow, her silver hair catching the glow of the candlelight.

"I'm Zeus," Alex responded, his voice calm and measured. "I've heard you're the protector of this inn—the banisher of the shadows."

Isobel offered a faint smile. "Myself and our Lady are doing what we can to hold the line. But after the massive amount of Selûne's magic you infused into the dome, it will hold strong for a while. When Jaheira told me what you did, I couldn’t believe it until I laid my eyes on you. Her essence runs so deep within you that if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were an avatar of hers, sent to save us—or at the very least, an aasimar. But..." Her eyes widened slightly as she looked closer at him. "You also have Lathander's magic flowing through you, along with a trace of his essence."

Jaheira, who had been quietly observing from the side, finally spoke, her tone neutral. "Then is he an avatar or not?"

Isobel shook her head slowly. "He is not, but to wield two divine powers and somehow not be torn apart... What are you?"

"An ally," Alex replied. "I suppose you didn't brought me here just to ask what I am " .

Jaheira spoke this time . "Marcus has been with us since the start—they’ve been tracking us this whole time. And that was no random attack—Isobel was their target. They know how important she is. Ketheric will strike again. We need to strike first."

"I already did," Alex said, his voice edged with frustration. "I fought him, even turned him to ash, but he still revived somehow."

Jaheira tried to appear calm, but Alex noticed her clenched fist, the knuckles white.

"Then why are you here?" Jaheira asked, her voice barely concealing her anxiety.

"Because this is bigger than I thought. The cultists have an Elder Brain that they’ve somehow imprisoned and are keeping under the Moonrise Towers."

"Shit," Jaheira muttered, while Isobel covered her mouth in shock. "Any more bad news?"

"Plenty," Alex said, then began to lay out the information he had gathered.

"An army of cultists is preparing to attack Baldur's Gate in two or three days. The city has already been infiltrated by cultists. They may have even infected some civilians with tadpoles and Ketheric Thorm might be the avatar of a powerful being."

"Great," Jaheira sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Any clue who or what could be?"

"Something aligned with death and decay," Alex explained, his mind recalling the battle. "When he realized he was overwhelmed, he turned into a burning skeleton, its flames rotting everything they touched almost instantly."

His words hung heavy in the air, sending both women into deep thought. Alex gave them a moment, watching as they processed the gravity of the situation.

"But there is still hope ." he continued. "Balthazar, a necromancer working under Ketheric Thorm, might hold the key to permanently killing him."

At the mention of the necromancer’s name, Alex noticed Isobel's hand tremble slightly. A subtle, but telling sign.

"She's hiding something," Alex thought, making a mental note of it.

"I suppose the necromancer wasn’t at the towers," Jaheira asked, breaking the silence.

Alex shook his head. "No, he headed to a place called the Grand Mausoleum, west from here."