The party makes there way safely from the city encountering no guards or trouble and aided by a shroud of fog enveloping the city in the hours before dawn. Perhaps the gods themselves had shed a little grace on their brash endeavor. Once you reach your rendezvous point, Faenthar begins his sending ritual to recall the dragons for the ride home. As the rest of you take a short rest (the end of the encounter) Fox notices a sudden pallor has come over Arthedain and Gelmyr. She motions to Sim just as Arthedain collapses and Gelmyr sits somewhat unsteadily on the ground against a tree. A quick heal check of both of them reveal that they show signs of exhaustion, only Arthedain seems to have passed out. Once Faenthar finishes his ritual, he sits as well as a rush of queasiness and exhaustion flood his senses.
Fox tends to Arthedain, enough to make him conscious again before the dragons arrive. He, Gelmyr, Sim and Faenthar discuss the possible causes and conclude that the rituals (for what else could they be called) that they had done in the Sun Room were obviously not without a cost-just a delayed cost. Arthedain remembers times when his mother would often become quite tired at different times of the day after “reading” in her Sun Room. Perhaps it was during a time of weakness like that when Garralon was able to poison her. With their combined knowledge of the arcane and what they have seen of the effects of primal evocation and the price of religious devotion, they believe the power in the Sun Room could even kill an unwary or weaker “visionary” if they took too long a look into the window.
The dragons arrive and return you to the camp. The most surprising sight is Illyana and Rufus tending to the “dead” Firebelcher. Rufus had noticed the creature was still breathing, though very wounded and sought out George’s aid when he returned from the flight to Tantalus. With his help the creature may be salvaged to help with the war efforts.
Dawn is waiting when they arrive with a large pot of strong “tea”. It helps quell the queasiness and brings a deep sleep for the next several hours for whoever chooses to drink it. It is closer to noon when those who use the drink awake, but they do so refreshed and vigorous.
Faenthar-either early and tired-or later and refreshed-begins his morning in the room at the manor he has co-opted for his magic. Once his counting and measuring is done, he seeks communion with the “mystic sages” on the bond between himself, his familiar and his mother. Once his ritual is cast the spirit of an aged, almost frail looking eladrin appears before him. Her hair is white and brushes the floor, her skin so pale it is almost translucent. He notices a pattern woven into her robes of crystalline ivy leaves and then he looks into her glowing silver eyes and an uncanny sense of knowing is shared between them. Her mouth opens as if to speak and Faethar feels her words inside his soul.
“Life is long and blood is thick when the eyes of the crystalleaf shine upon you. Ties of blood and intent can only be severed with the same, but once a bridge is built and until it is broken-it can be crossed from both sides. This bridge is in three parts, break one part and the bridge is destroyed.”