"You forget yourself, child, and with whom you're dealing." "I'm..

." Tsarra felt her rage drain from her so quickly she began to fall.

All she could manage was a weak whisper before she collapsed on the cobbles. "Khelben, help me."

Midsummer, the Year of the Lone Candle (1238 DR) The dark-garbed man flew into the courtyard of a four-story stone tower nestled at the foot of Mount Waterdeep, violets covering every inch of the courtyard wall. The local watch patrol looked up, and all saluted the city's archmage, but Khelben the Elder waved them off, using their own hand signals to keep them from joining him. Despite their duty, none of them wished to argue with the centuries-old wizard. The watch civilar returned a hand signal to Khelben, his eyes directed above and behind the wizard. Khelben looked up to see four overzealous apprentices flying overhead, and he scowled. He waved thanks to the watch and sketched a furious spell in his other hand.

The archmage's whisper traveled upwind to the senior of his apprentices hovering above. "Tandar, Mystra herself won't save you, should you or any others interfere here today. Were I in need of assistance, I would have asked when I left your class moments ago.

Remain and watch from there, if you must, but never follow me again unless you have irrefutable reason." Khelben cut off the spell without listening to the young Chondathan's response. The teacher in him was proud of his students showing initiative and drive, but he shuddered as he remembered the funerals of seven apprentices in the past ten years. "No more, especially today of all days," he growled. At least he didn't have to keep Cassandra distracted, given how busy she and the Lady Simtul were with the wedding plans for that evening. Khelben glanced at the tower, realizing it had been more than two dozen years since he'd darkened its door, despite it only being a short walk from Arunsun Tower. It was an oddity, even for Waterdeep: one of the very few examples of Shoon-style architecture north of Amn. The tower sat on an octagonal stone base two stories tall, its solid stone walls smooth save for random sigils carved about its surface, two arrow-slit windows per side, and the door on the northeastern facet. The door was flanked by two smaller minarets attached to the base on the adjacent east and north facets. Most believed the minarets generated great defensive or offensive magic against intruders. In truth, they were decorative from the outside and concealed rooms for a privy and ablutions inside, but Khelben knew the benefit of leaving others' fears and fables about wizards unanswered. The top two stories blended in better with Waterdeep, the darker local stones and bricks finishing off the tower's body. Atop the construction was the most indicative mark of Shoon architecture-the pyramid that marked the dwelling as a noble's house. Fashioning the pyramid from crystal marked her home as that of a worker of magic. In his left hand, a crumpled parchment summoned him to the tower over a matter of urgency. It was signed with the mark of the sorceress Syndra Wands, and its teleporting directly to his hand suggested either knowledge or power that allowed it through the defenses of his home. The blood on the parchment bore enough hints of trouble to drag Khelben from his lecture on the ethics of charms. His right hand held a new weapon, a duskwood rod set with a row of diamonds and sheathed at head and foot in brightsteel. He didn't understand why his dreams had been haunted by that image or why Mystra herself insisted on both the weapon's creation months ago and his use of it that day. He understood he had been warned of the day's events, but familiarity and the unsure nature of dreams kept him from realizing it until moments before. Committed to his role in these events, Khelben walked calmly through the street gate and strode through Syndra's herb garden path to the door. Just as in his dreams, he found a field of magical silence around the door and its flanking minarets, which he dispelled. Unlike the dreams, however, the door hung askew by one hinge and was pockmarked with dents that still dripped acid. Whoever was behind the vandalism could strike quickly and silently. There was no other way to cause that kind of damage without alerting neighbors or the watch. Casting spells in quick succession, Khelben negated any additional standing spells within ten paces of the door, sent magic around to reveal any hidden or invisible creatures, and let slip another whisper on the winds to see if the mistress of the Eightower could respond. "Granddaughter?" he asked the empty air as he stepped across the threshold. Though he and his daughter's daughter had not spoken in years, a twinge of familial worry crept in to distract him. The entry chamber, which Khelben knew was always immaculate-like its mistress-shamed itself with disarray and chaos. Someone had obviously come through on a rampage, counting on the magical silence to keep unwanted attention away. Khelben sniffed the air and several of the spell-blast points on the wall, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "No sulfur or charring from a flamestruck blast point. Curious." The archmage slowly moved through the four rooms on the ground floor, all with tapestries, rugs, and furniture thrown about by someone looking for something without success. He stalked through the silent tower and up the central stairs, stopping only to note blast marks where spells scored the stone steps and walls. He knew Syndra's fire spells left the scent of cedar smoke, a unique touch indicative of her sorcery. The other blast points and places where Khelben detected magic were either wet or cold to the touch, if not both. His eyes narrowed and his fist clenched. "I know you now, traitorous whelp." Casting spells on his person, Khelben stepped sideways into the stone pillar that supported the stairwell.

Merged with the tower, he cast his senses around, checking for any sign of movement or damage within the tower. Sensing a cold spot despite the pulsing warmth of the magic atop the tower, he willed himself upward and into the wall directly before that location. He had a few moments with the spell to survey the land safely within the wall before committing himself to battle. The walls of the room leaned inward, meeting fifteen feet overhead and revealing that the top floor of the tower was the pyramid itself. The walls and floor glimmered with magic, their translucence allowing some small glimpses of the darkening skies outside. Khelben saw draped before him, half on the stairs and half on the floor, the bloodied body of his granddaughter Syndra Wands. Her simple dress suggested she had been asleep when attacked, and its folds were stiff with frost and ice. Her skin was a dull gray, her legs had been shattered, and she had fallen on one arm, which had also shattered on impact. Her body was frozen solid, shown by the minimal presence of liquid blood pooling on the floor. Even though Khelben knew the identity of Syndra's attacker, his former apprentice's appearance took him aback. The man wore cornflower blue robes elegantly stitched with cloth-of-gold and arrayed with his family crest and personal mark-three icicles hanging from the bottom edge of a pyramid. The bronze circlet around his brow gleamed with active power, its sickly olive glow casting a jaundiced veil around his eyes. He held his forearms crossed over his chest, a classic defensive pose favored by old-time Shoon spellcasters as well as a way to show off magical items. Two ring gems gleamed at Khelben-one sapphire, the other diamond-and the arcane energies they stored pulsed around the younger man. In all, his form and accoutrements exuded power, but his eyes betrayed desperation and a beggar's yearning. "I can sense you near, Sunderspell. Come out from hiding and fight!" The man remained seated, his face and voice laced with anticipation.