FLASHBACK – THE CELESTIAL TEMPLE
The air in the Celestial Temple tastes of incense and starlight – white marble walls rise high above, carved with constellations that seem to glow on their own. At the very heart of the sacred inner sanctum, the Rose of Life blooms in a pool of crystal-clear water – its petals shimmering with every color of the rainbow.
Serrende'il, leader of the Celestial Council, stands before it – his silver beard flowing down his chest, his robes embroidered with threads of pure moonlight. He watches in silence as a single beam of moon light pierces through the temple's glass roof and falls directly on the rose.
A single petal detaches, drifting gently to the stone floor – where it bursts into golden ash the moment it touches down.
Serrende'il's face pales. "This cannot be…"
He hurries to the council chamber, where seven wise men and women argue loudly around a circular table.
Serrende'il had enough, "Silence! Speak one at a time." his voice booms, echoing off the chamber walls.
An elf woman with green eyes steps forward. "Surely it was just a trick – some prank by a novice acolyte?"
A dwarf man slams his fist on the table. "The Rose of Life never lies! When a petal falls to ash, it means danger is coming – a world Wide Danger! "
"Danger?" A human councilor asks, her voice tight with worry. "What kind of danger could threaten the entire land?"
Before anyone can answer, a deafening alarm rings through the temple – a sound like bells made of thunder. Serrende'il closes his eyes, weaving arcane magic through his fingers to see its source.
His eyes snap open. "A World Rank Artifact has been revealed. Moved by ordinary people – not our guardians." he said.
A murmur ripples through the room. "World Rank?" another councilor gasps. "That's impossible. Those artifacts are hidden away, protected by wards we spent centuries weaving."
Serrende'il nods gravely. "These artifacts hold power that can reshape reality itself. Their auras extend across the globe – that's how we sense them when they're disturbed. They must never be in the hands of those who don't understand their weight. One misstep could unleash plague, fire, or worse..." He pauses.
"Or worse, what?" A Birdfolk lady asked.
"Death." Serrende'il said with fesr in his voice.
Everybody began to murmur and trembles in fear.
"Which artifact is it?" someone asks.
"We don't know yet," Serrende'il says. "But we must find out. Now."
He turns to the chamber doors. "Send in Ethan... Ethan P. Songweaver."
Moments later, a young man with sun-streaked hair enters – his lute slung over his shoulder, his movements light as a dancer.
"Council Leader," he says with a bow. "You summoned me?"
"Ehan," Serrende'il says. "We need you to track this World Rank Artifact. Find out what it is, who has it, and why it's been moved. Learn everything you can."
Ethan stands tall. "I will not fail you. I'll track its aura, and if I find others pursuing it… I'll use whatever means necessary to ensure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."
As he turns to leave, a councilor speaks up. "Are you sure he can handle this?"
Serrende'il's eyes are steady. "He can... He must."
"Our world depends on him now!"
ON THE ROAD TO NEVERWINTER
Ethan rides hard on his chestnut horse, using arcane tracking magic to follow the artifact's aura – a golden thread stretching across the map in his mind. He can sense it moving steadily north.
As he rounds a bend, he spots a cart surrounded by cloaked figures – their movements too deliberate to be ordinary travelers. Using a spell to see from afar, he catches sight of a tattoo on one man's wrist: a shadowy skull wrapped with Snake – the mark of the Spectres, legendary thieves who target powerful artifacts.
"Seems like the council isn't the only know about this World Rank Artifact." he mutters, already formulating a plan. If he confront them on the road, they could break the artifact trying to escape. But if he let them follow it to Neverwinter… he can corner them there, along with whoever's carrying it. Two birds, one stone.
He pushes his horse faster, calculating the artifact's path. It's heading for Neverwinter.
He arrives hours ahead, making his way to the Mead & Ale's Inn. To cover his identity, he approaches the keeper and offers to play for the evening crowd.
"That's perfect!" the innkeeper says. "Our usual bard canceled at the last minute."
That afternoon, he watches as three igures enter the inn – an elf, a tiefling, and a dwarf. They head straight to the desk, then up to their room. Later, when the elf comes downstairs, Ethan finishes his song, bows to the crowd, and slips outside.
In the alley behind the inn, he conjures a cloak of shadows around himself and leaps to the third-floor window. Inside, he sees the dwarf girl guarding an ornate box. He pulls out his flute and plays a soft, soothing melody – one that sends her into a deep, peaceful sleep.
He already plans it out.
He'll take the box, he thinks as he lifts it carefully, lead the Spectres to a place where he can take them all down at once, then assess whether these travelers can be trusted with something so dangerous.
He slips back out – only to spot two more cloaked figures moving through the streets, one on the roof, one on the ground. Using mystic blur to turn invisible, he mimics the dwarf's voice to call the tiefling outside, then follows the Spectre on the roof to St. Bernard's Church.
He hides in the shadows as he watches the lizardfolk be ambushed and knocked unconscious by twenty Spectres. Perfect, he thinks. Now all the players are in position. Moments later, the rest of the group arrives – walking straight into the trap he'd set.
END OF FLASHBACK
"And that's my story, elf sorcerer," Ethan says, untying the white silk scarf at his neck. Woven into the fabric are silver threads that glow with arcane light – the symbol of the Celestial Council. "I had to remove the Spectres our of the problem. It was the only way to ensure they don't get their hands on that artifact.
Hythesion stares at the scarf, then down at the box in his hands. The Pendant of Morea glints inside, and suddenly its weight feels like the world itself.
"A World Rank Artifact…" he breathes.
Geth steps forward, "So you used us as bait for the Spectres."
"Better you than innocent townsfolk," Ethan replies calmly. "I need to take that artifact back to the council to ensure its safety. "
Akmenos drops into a fighting stance beside Geth, his knuckles cracking loud enough to echo in the quiet church. "Safety? You put a spell sleep upon Maitara! How do we know you'll just do the same to take it away.?"
"I just eradicate twenty Spectres on my own, saving you pathetic losers' asses." Ethan says, his voice hardening. "Do you really think you can take me on?"
Geth growls, shifting his weight as he circles Ethan slowly. "We don't know anything about you or this 'Celestial Council' you keep talking about. For all we know, you're just another thief who wants the artifact for yourself."
"Prove it," Akmenos demands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Show us something that proves you're who you say you are – not just some made-up title and a fancy scarf."
Ethan's fingers hover over his flute. "I don't have the energy to argue with some lowlife adventurers."
Ethan's statement make Geth and Akmenos angry.
Geth snaps, and ready to charge Ethan. Ethan ready his flute.
Then all of a sudden...
"HELDAS SERAS"
Maitara Chants a magic to knock Ethan off. Ethan, wasn't prepared, got knocked back. He then stared to Maitata.
Ethan chuckles, "A very familiar magic. Magic of the Chaos God. Now I know the artifact is not safe. I will not let a follower of The Chaos God, gets their hands on a World Rank Artifact" Ethan ready to play a music, as he lifts his flute.
"Wait, hold up-" Hythesion yells, as he wakes up from disbelief on having a World Rank Artifact in his possession. Hythesion still stands frozen, the box clutched tight in his hands, torn between trusting the man who just saved them and standing by his team.
Before anyone can make a move, whoosh – an iron net shoots from the shadows of the church hall, wrapping tightly around Ethan and pinning him to the floor. He tries to usemagic, but purple sparks crackle harmlessly against the weave – the net is etched with Anti-Magic Ruins.
More nets follow – one snaring Geth as he tries to swing his swords, another wrapping around Akmenos mid-punch. Maitara raises her hands to cast, but a net pins her arms to her sides before she can speak a word. Hythesion reaches for his spell components, but a final net traps him just as blue lightning begins to form in his palms.
Armored knights flood the church from every doorway – their silver armor gleaming under candlelight, their shields emblazoned with the golden eagle of Neverwinter. They form a tight circle around the pinned group, spears and swords pointed at their throats.
A woman in polished steel armor steps forward – her dark hair tied back in a neat braid, her eyes sharp as obsidian. Her beauty as grand as the most beautiful scenery. She moves with effortless grace, even in heavy plate.
"Strangers from outside." she says, her voice clear and commanding. "You are all under arrest for suspicion of conspiring with thievesand You will be held in the royal dungeons until you stand before the King's court for trial."
As Hythesion tried to looked at the woman, he saw a familiar face, "Glynlie?!!!!" Hythesion yells in disbelief and surprised.
The woman then also surprised and then yells, "Hythesion??!!"