The destruction of the Cloakwood Mine brought an end to the Iron Throne’s operation, but our journey was far from over. With Baldur’s Gate now clearly standing between us and the truth, there remained a handful of promises to keep and roads left to travel before turning north for good.

The weeks spent in Cloakwood had taken their toll upon us all.

No one bore the burden more heavily than Dynaheir.

The poor woman seemed incapable of remaining alive for more than a few battles without reaching for another healing potion. More than once I watched her collapse beneath the claws of spiders or the blades of our enemies, only to be pulled back from the brink by Khalid, Jaheira, or Imoen. There were moments when I feared we might lose her entirely.

Even after leaving the mine, danger refused to loosen its grip.

Hoping to collect a few winter wolf pelts before continuing our journey, we tracked the beasts through the wilderness. What should have been a simple hunt nearly became a tragedy. The wolves descended upon Dynaheir with frightening speed, and for a moment I thought we would be burying a friend instead of skinning wolves. Fortunately, quick blades and quicker healing magic spared us yet again.

I have no doubt she would tell me such sacrifices are simply the price of following one’s destiny.

I pray she is right.

With the worst finally behind us, we turned our attention toward unfinished business.

Our first stop was the Temple of the Morning, where Kelddath Ormlyr accepted Bassilus’ holy symbol with visible relief. The mad cleric’s reign had ended, and the temple honored its promise with a generous reward. While there, we also claimed the bounty for the wyvern whose head we had carried all the way from Cloakwood. It was satisfying to know that both threats had been laid to rest.

Not every story ended in bloodshed.

Near High Hedge, we once again encountered the apprentice Melicamp and his master, the eccentric wizard Thalantyr. Against all expectations, the spell succeeded, and the unfortunate apprentice was restored to his human form. After so much death and suffering, witnessing genuine joy was a welcome change.

The road north still held surprises.

We came upon a lone drow surrounded by gnolls, his twin scimitars moving with impossible speed. Together we scattered the creatures, though I suspect he required little assistance from us. Afterward, he introduced himself simply as Drizzt Do’Urden before continuing on his solitary path.

If reputation alone could defeat an enemy, I suspect his would be enough.

Not long afterward, we crossed paths once more with the old wizard who seemed to appear precisely when he wished.

This time, he finally gave us his name.

Elminster.

He spoke as though he had followed our journey from Candlekeep, hinting that our deeds had begun attracting attention far beyond the roads we traveled. As always, his words raised more questions than they answered. Before we could press him further, he vanished as mysteriously as he had arrived.

Somehow, I doubt that will be the last time our paths cross.

As the miles passed beneath our boots, I found myself reflecting upon how much our company had changed.

Friends had come and gone.

New allies now marched beside us.

Each trial had left its mark, but it had also strengthened our resolve.

The road that once seemed impossibly long now stretched toward only one destination.

Every clue.

Every letter.

Every sacrifice.

Every battle.

All of it now points toward Baldur’s Gate.

Whatever awaits us there, I can no longer believe I am merely chasing those responsible for poisoned iron.

Somewhere within that great city lies the truth behind Gorion’s murder… and perhaps the truth about myself.

The gates of Baldur’s Gate now lie ahead.

I cannot shake the feeling that, once we pass through them, nothing will ever be the same.

— Cail