Gorion set a swift pace as we walked along the Coast Way, and the walls of Candlekeep soon disappeared from sight. As night fell, Gorion took us off of the road. I thought he might be looking for a place to set up camp, but though his eyes flit about, searching, he never slowed.

Not until we entered a clearing filled with strange circles of stones.

“Wait. There is something wrong.” Gorion held out his arm in front of me, halting my progress. “We are in an ambush.”

“You are perceptive for an old man.” A figure detached itself from the shadows, encased in full plate armor covered with spikes and horns. Two towering hulks flanked the figure, their bestial faces twisted in snarls. “You know why I am here. Hand over your ward, and no one will be hurt. If you resist, it shall be a waste of your life.”

The man’s words stunned me. They were after me?

“You are a fool if you think I trust your benevolence. Step aside and you and your lackeys will be unhurt.” Gorion’s boldness gave me another shock. They seemed so uncharacteristic of the scholarly man that had raised me.

“I am sorry that you feel that way, old man.” The armored figure signaled his two brutes forward. Gorion began speaking in a language I didn’t understand, and waved his hands in front of him. Red globes of light appeared and a bolt of lightning shot forward from their midst and lanced through one of the giants, who fell with a cry. I heard similar chanting come from the darkness behind the armored man. Mystical light appeared, revealing a woman. She finished her incantation and a flaming arrow sprang into being then flew threw the air toward me. I stood there frozen, transfixed by the milieu. The fiery missile struck me and exploded, scorching my face and armor.

“Run, child. Get out of here!” Gorion began casting again. This time, the globes of light launched themselves at the other brute and the woman, killing both. I turned and ran, but only to the edge of the clearing. There, I crouched behind a tree and watched the armored man advance as Gorion unleashed spell after spell into him. I heard grunts of pain echo across the meadow with each impact, but nothing slowed the man. He reached Gorion, raised his sword, and slew my foster father with one blow. I cried out in grief, but caught myself. The armored figure looked in the direction I hid, but he could not pierce the veil of darkness. I prayed to Oghma–and any other god who would hear me–that this was all a nightmare, that I would pinch myself and blink, and I would be back in Candlekeep. And Gorion would be alive.

The stomp of metal boots receded into the night. I huddled behind my tree, unwilling to move, to acknowledge what I had just witnessed. The night crawled on, and I slept in restless fits. My shirt of mail provided little protection against the chill and rain. When dawn broke, I stood–my stiff muscles groaned their protest–and walked. I kept my back to the clearing, but with no other sense of direction. Perhaps my prayer had reached some god, for I soon came upon the road. Then I heard a familiar voice.

“Heya, it’s me, Imoen.”