Nogah said, "For all your sea lore, it would surprise me had you heard of Taunissik, Thoster. It is a failed colony, of little consequence. A few hundred dispossessed kuo-toa left Olleth six years back. They were part of a sub-sect whose charter demands its adherents always seek to expand kuo-toa territory. So they departed Olleth to set up an outpost on a deep atoll. Taunissik, as old morkoth records called it, boasts a massive coral growth on a submerged mountain. Time passed, and no word of the colony's progress ever came. In Olleth, we thought the colony dead. Apparently, we were wrong to assume Taunissik failed; Gethshemeth found the colony. The colonists were enslaved to the great kraken's will."

The captain clapped his hands. "Aye! We have another voyage ahead of us! Back to the ship. We set course for Taunissik! Nogah will be our guide."

Seren scowled, but didn't gainsay the captain.

Japheth offered, "I am not a strong swimmer. How much of this colony is under water?"

"Worry not, human," said Nogah. "I have an elixir that will preserve you and the woman, should it be necessary to descend beneath the waves."

"What about him?" asked Japheth, pointing to the captain, whose back was turned as he stooped to retrieve his hat, which had been knocked off in the fight.

Nogah shrugged. "Thoster needs no elixir."

No food passed Raidon Kane's lips. Every so often he sipped from his waterskin. His eyes were open, but he looked inward. Memory became theater, disgorging his past. He retrieved and relived every event that contained Ailyn. A master of his own mind, Raidon's recollection was extensive.

On the second day, tears brimmed, and then broke from his eyes. Raidon tasted salt.

On the third day, he sighed. He reached into his pouch and produced a ration composed of dried dates, almonds, and apples. He nibbled. Later, he ate the entire close-packed morsel, and then another.

On the fourth day, Raidon levered himself to his feet with the aid of the great, dirt-grimed boulder. Pain knifed through his stiff joints. Physical pain was something to which he was becoming accustomed. Others might have taken the agony as an omen of their own inadequacy. Raidon decided to perceive the new barbs and the lingering aches as evidence of his continued existence. His hurts were a connection to his past he couldn't gainsay. Pain grounded him and held him sane when images of Ailyn bringing him a daffodil during Spring Feast, Ailyn receiving a gold Cormyrean coin from his hand, Ailyn looking for him in a game of sneak-and-hide… these and other poignant memories threatened to crack him wide open, again.

The mountain on the horizon remained steadfastly in the sky, defying nature and perhaps even Silvanus… assuming that one had survived into the present. According to the golem that spoke from nowhere, even the gods were in disarray these days, as their lofty realms buckled and crumbled toward a new balance.

Raidon rubbed his chin, wondering why the sentient effigy had not attempted to renew their conversation. If it lay buried in an extra-planar dungeon, the golem must be lonely. Then again, it wasn't alive-it was a magical construct. Perhaps concepts like loneliness held no meaning for it.

His voice rough from disuse, Raidon addressed the air. "Cynosure, are you near?"

"Of course, Raidon," came the instant reply.

The monk said, "I am glad. The world has moved on without me, it seems. All save for you."

"I was never part of the world, Raidon, at least until you woke. I resigned myself to decades more darkness. Then light broke from the void when you first called on the power of your Sign, and I knew I was not forsaken. Of the two of us, I would hazard that I am the one who feels most glad."

Raidon nodded. Perhaps the construct could feel something like loneliness after all. But could it feel loss? When it recalled past acquaintances now gone, did a hollow cavity in its chest emanate a hopeless tide that threatened mental desolation? He didn't trust himself to reply, fearing his voice would shake.

After a few moments, Cynosure asked, "What do you propose to do, Raidon?"

"I know one thing, golem; I hunger. I need food."

"And after you find sustenance? What will you do?"

The monk shook his head in negation. "Nothing. I propose to exist. That is all. My deeds and past struggles have all yielded nothing. My greatest act of kindness concluded with the death of a child all alone. I'll not make such an error again. Misguided efforts to improve the world only deepen its imperfections. My masters had the right of it: be in the moment; do not shape it."

A high, white cloud edged a limb over the sun, throwing a cooling shadow across the hillside.

Cynosure spoke again, "You have the Cerulean Sign-"

"I would cast it away, for all that it was a gift from my mother, if I could. It has brought nothing but trouble. And the Traitor of Stardeep is released, you tell me. The Sign scars my flesh only to remind me it is a worthless symbol of a failed cause."

"The cause has not yet failed."

"No?"

"The threats the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign formed to fight remain active, perhaps closer to the surface than ever before. In the Dawn Age, monstrosities slipped into the world from sanity-shredding realms. These creatures, great and small, instinctively work toward the day when Faerыn itself is consumed and made anew in their own mad image. As a Keeper, it is your duty to oppose this."

"I am not a Keeper."

"Raidon, though I may be wrong, it is possible you remain the sole, mobile Keeper in all Toril."

"I did not choose that role. I am not a Keeper."

"You fought aberrations whenever you came upon them.

Though you took no oath, you acted as one sworn to the cause. For ten years you did so, nearly without respite, prior to the Spellplague."

Raidon frowned, then he ventured, "What of the other Keepers-Kiril and Delphe? And what about yourself? You are of the Sign, and a potent defender of it, as I remember it."

"Delphe ventured into Sildeyuir fifteen years ago and never returned. With that realm's fall, I do not know her fate or the fate of any of her kind."

Raidon queried, "And the swordswoman?"

"Kiril and the sword Angul left Stardeep. They reentered Faerыn, and continued on much as they had before. Kiril sold her sword arm to anyone with sufficient coin to keep her in drink and lodging. Eventually, she met up with a previous employer, a dwarf named Thormud. I lost track of her in the change-ravaged Vilhon Wilds. She survived the Year of Blue Fire, but afterward plunged into the heart of an active pocket of spellplague, from which she never returned."

The monk grunted. Though not definitive, the construct implied the only two pledged Keepers were missing and likely dead.

Raidon persisted, "You survive."

"At this time, I am cut off from the world. I can only interact with Faerыn through you and your Sign. I can provide you support, advice, and even transportation on occasion, but I cannot personally enter the war."

"A war, you say."

"The conflict has begun. Only skirmishes now, but soon, a wholesale slaughter, when the ancient buried city of Xxiphu emerges."

The monk walked the perimeter of the boulder's weedy edge, one hand trailing along the rough stone. He was not being impolite, walking away from the golem; its attention was always centered on him. He wondered if he could sever the link. But the name Xxiphu sparked alarm somewhere in his memory.

"Cynosure, I recall that name, but neither you, Kiril, Delphe, or anyone else properly described the nature of Xxiphu and this 'Abolethic Sovereignty' to me. Aboleths have long slunk below the world. What, really, is more terrible about Xxiphu?"