rapt.
Araevin turned to examine the doorway behind him. It was a simple triangular arch between two swordlike spars of glass, its center gray and misty. Then he looked up and saw that the glass ramparts and spires extended for as far as he could see in that direction. The Waymeet wasn’t a cathedral of glass, it was a city of glass, perfect and empty. And everywhere he looked, he saw the doors-asymmetrical interstices where sharp spires and slanting sheets met. Hundreds of them appeared in a single glance, each flickering with living magic.
“I had no idea,” Araevin murmured. “It’s immense!” “Your ancestors didn’t do anything by half-measures, did they?” Maresa said.
Jorin recovered from his awe long enough to turn his eyes to Araevin. “Do you have any idea which way to go from here?”
Absently, Araevin drew out the shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal and raised it to eye level, speaking the words of a spell. It gleamed brightly, and in his mind he felt a distinct tug toward his right. “This way,” he said. “I don’t think it’s far.”
“So where are we?” Maresa asked Araevin. “Where is this place?”
“It’s nowhere. This is a demiplane of its own.”
“A what?”
“A demiplanea small self-contained world that exists parallel to Faerun. Much like Sildeyuir, but not anywhere near as large as that realm. The divine and infernal realms are places of a similar nature, but those of course are even more extensive than Sildeyuir.” Araevin looked around. “I don’t expect this one is much larger than what you can see from right here. Less than a mile across?”
“So where is it that this demiplane exists? What’s outside of it?”
“You might as well ask what’s on the other side of the stars when you’re looking up into the sky on a summer night.” Araevin shrugged. “The demiplane just ends. Outside you would find nothing but the unformed ether.”
“That’s horrible!” The genasi shivered. “Let’s find your door and get back on solid ground before we fall through the floor or something.”
CHAPTER FIVE
30 Flamerule, the Year of Lightning Storms
The walls and towers of the Waymeet formed a difficult maze, but it was not impassable. The place was not really designed to entrap travelers, it was just a very complex structure with few good points of reference. The clear space in which the portal to the House of Long Silences stood was part of a boulevard or avenue that curved around a striking cluster of tall spires that Araevin presumed to be the center of the Waymeet. Smaller “streets” angled away into the crystalline depths. They passed door after door along the way, and down each intersecting passage they saw additional rows of portals leading away into the luminous distance.
“Where could all these portals go?” Donnor muttered to himself. “There are thousands of them here. Faerun must be riddled with gates!”
“Aryvandaar was a vast, long-lived, and wealthy empire,” said Araevin. “Look at it like this: Even if various mages or lords of Aryvandaar only found reason to create ten new portals a century, you would expect to find almost a thousand portals here.”
“I haven’t been counting, but it seems like there may be more than that,” the Tethyrian said.
Araevin frowned. “I think you’re right. It seems there are even more than there should be.” He paused, searching his mind for what the Nightstar had told him of the place. “Ah, that makes sense.”
The others waited for him to continue. Araevin shook himself, bringing his attention back to his companions. “The Fhoeldin durr itself creates new portals. In the years since Aryvandaar’s fall, it has continued to propagate portals throughout Faerun-and into other planes and worlds, as well. That is why it has become so dangerous. Over the centuries, its expansion has weakened the barriers between the planes, especially in places where people created any number of portals of their
Araevin turned to examine the doorway behind him. It was a simple triangular arch between two swordlike spars of glass, its center gray and misty. Then he looked up and saw that the glass ramparts and spires extended for as far as he could see in that direction. The Waymeet wasn’t a cathedral of glass, it was a city of glass, perfect and empty. And everywhere he looked, he saw the doors-asymmetrical interstices where sharp spires and slanting sheets met. Hundreds of them appeared in a single glance, each flickering with living magic.
“I had no idea,” Araevin murmured. “It’s immense!” “Your ancestors didn’t do anything by half-measures, did they?” Maresa said.
Jorin recovered from his awe long enough to turn his eyes to Araevin. “Do you have any idea which way to go from here?”
Absently, Araevin drew out the shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal and raised it to eye level, speaking the words of a spell. It gleamed brightly, and in his mind he felt a distinct tug toward his right. “This way,” he said. “I don’t think it’s far.”
“So where are we?” Maresa asked Araevin. “Where is this place?”
“It’s nowhere. This is a demiplane of its own.”
“A what?”
“A demiplanea small self-contained world that exists parallel to Faerun. Much like Sildeyuir, but not anywhere near as large as that realm. The divine and infernal realms are places of a similar nature, but those of course are even more extensive than Sildeyuir.” Araevin looked around. “I don’t expect this one is much larger than what you can see from right here. Less than a mile across?”
“So where is it that this demiplane exists? What’s outside of it?”
“You might as well ask what’s on the other side of the stars when you’re looking up into the sky on a summer night.” Araevin shrugged. “The demiplane just ends. Outside you would find nothing but the unformed ether.”
“That’s horrible!” The genasi shivered. “Let’s find your door and get back on solid ground before we fall through the floor or something.”
CHAPTER FIVE
30 Flamerule, the Year of Lightning Storms
The walls and towers of the Waymeet formed a difficult maze, but it was not impassable. The place was not really designed to entrap travelers, it was just a very complex structure with few good points of reference. The clear space in which the portal to the House of Long Silences stood was part of a boulevard or avenue that curved around a striking cluster of tall spires that Araevin presumed to be the center of the Waymeet. Smaller “streets” angled away into the crystalline depths. They passed door after door along the way, and down each intersecting passage they saw additional rows of portals leading away into the luminous distance.
“Where could all these portals go?” Donnor muttered to himself. “There are thousands of them here. Faerun must be riddled with gates!”
“Aryvandaar was a vast, long-lived, and wealthy empire,” said Araevin. “Look at it like this: Even if various mages or lords of Aryvandaar only found reason to create ten new portals a century, you would expect to find almost a thousand portals here.”
“I haven’t been counting, but it seems like there may be more than that,” the Tethyrian said.
Araevin frowned. “I think you’re right. It seems there are even more than there should be.” He paused, searching his mind for what the Nightstar had told him of the place. “Ah, that makes sense.”
The others waited for him to continue. Araevin shook himself, bringing his attention back to his companions. “The Fhoeldin durr itself creates new portals. In the years since Aryvandaar’s fall, it has continued to propagate portals throughout Faerun-and into other planes and worlds, as well. That is why it has become so dangerous. Over the centuries, its expansion has weakened the barriers between the planes, especially in places where people created any number of portals of their
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