For the first time in an eon, the storm clouds of gold shed no rain as they hide the obscured the glow of twin suns; instead, they crackled with jagged lines of dark crimson, angry veins that pulsed across the sky, their echoing booms reaching his ears seven seconds after.

His old eyes flicked away from the sky; below him and his rocking chair – perhaps just as ancient as his bones felt – the cliff-face gave way to a sheer drop towards the turbulent waters below, grey waves smashing against the rocky base as though the ocean itself was furious at the lack of rain.

Had he been honest with himself, he would have been just as furious; a lack of rain always predicted an unfavorable turn of events. But as it stood, his capacity to retain anger had faded long, long ago – blown away like dust in the wind, along with all those other pesky emotions.

He felt his daughter will herself into existence long before she actually appeared, a subtle prickle of needles at the base of his skull that let him know. This time, however, they felt pricklier than usual as her feet descended upon sacred ground; she was furious at him, though he already knew that to be the case.

She dared not to stand beside him when she approached, choosing instead to remain seven paces behind his chair. It was a trait that he didn’t quite like about her, truth be told. He preferred to think of himself as any other, a sentiment that none of his children shared with him. It made sense, given the skies above and the decaying golden city at their backs, and no amount of insisting otherwise had ever swayed them.

He was lying if he said it didn’t hurt.

“I know not your intentions,” His daughter’s melodious voice rang out behind him, singing over the cliff and into the stormy yellow sky above. “and thus, I demand answers, as before me lies a hypocrite of a broken oath.”

“Ah…” He grinned. “I guessed you’d be a bit mad about that.”

“You do not guess, you know.”

“Oh, pish-posh. I –”

“Answer me!” Her voice radiated like a plucked harp string. “I have not crossed the boundaries for you to act like this!”

“Oho, demanding? Here?”

“I demand as I must –”

He looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with perhaps the only daughter he still trusted; her mouth snapped shut, whatever argument she once had dying upon her lips. Her beautiful stream of white hair flowed well past her knees, thankfully obscuring sections of her bare form, skin like polished obsidian.

“I did nothing to break the oath I swore. The only hypocrite here remains yourself,” She flinched, though her shimmering blue eyes never left his. “for willingly placing yourself in the affairs of mortals.

“My meddling has never been a point of objection for you until now.”

“As before, I could allow certain influences to slide. You remain a child still; were I to hold you to the same standard as I do myself, well, that would be entirely unfair.”

He felt her bristle, anger rippling through her like the waves far, far below him.

“We have spoken on this.” She said. “I am not a child, not like the others.”

“Then you are aware of the consequences?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You swore the same oath as I did. Do you understand the gravity of your words? Do you understand the punishment for breaking that oath?”

“Death.” She said flatly.

“Death.” He echoed. “Would that be a suitable punishment for yourself? Shall I strike you down even as you stand before me?”

“I will not shirk from the effects of my actions. I stand by everything I accomplished, every event I nudged or shoved into place, for I know myself to be right. If you deem it just to strike me down, I will not beg for mercy, for I will descend to the Nine Hells with the knowledge that everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the good of this world.” She raised her chin, never breaking his gaze. “Just as you taught me.”

He let out a snort and turned back around; so many demands to be treated as an equal, yet she could not stop herself from acting like a child time and time again.

“You correct in a single regard.” He said, gazing back out onto the furious sea. “I did teach you to look beyond yourself and do good for this world. But in doing so, you have fixated on the wrong solution, and have broken your oath because of it.”

“I am aware, but it was not done absent of reason. She remains the most important –”

“The transient is not worth destroying a city for.”

“A sacrifice –”

“For what?” His head flipped back around. “Pray tell me Eilistraee, what would sacrificing Waterdeep accomplish for us? Wiping cities off the map is a terrible action, one that requires a healthy measure of forethought to understand its consequences. So, tell me, what benefits have you found from its destruction? I must have missed them if there remain any? Are you aware of information that I am not?”

For a single moment, Eilistraee held his gaze, brilliant blue eyes smoldering with an anger that he’d seen countless times before. It only intensified when she finally looked away.

“I thought so.” Though his accusations were utterly ridiculous, it was for the best to hurl them at her, least she forget whom she spoke to. “Destroying a city for one transient is simply not conducive for what we are trying to accomplish. You may fight me all you want on the issue – though I suppose you already have – but you will not sway my judgement. You think me a hypocrite for intervening and staying the execution of an unaware city by a goddess that remains ignorant of her actions? Then so be it. But know that you are in the wrong.”

“I know when I’m wrong.” Eilistraee said. “This time is not one of them.”

“A false statement. There’s nothing about this transient that warrants your attention.”

“She’s special.”

“She is perhaps the most ordinary mortal I have seen in quite some time.” He shot back. “Well, she was. You have made her special from what you’ve taken from her, and for what? A girl who can manipulate flame is nothing more than a speck of dust compared to what we will face, and you waste what little time we have left trying to change that. You’d be better off abandoning her and looking elsewhere.”

He sighed the moment he’d finished speaking; his words were not tinged with malice, nor delivered cruelly, but they were true. It did her no good to focus on something as mundane as a trainset she’d witnessed the birth of and decided was something different compared to every other mortal born in the same circumstance. He’d seen countless copies of the mortal, and countless times their existences had been forgotten just as quickly as their deaths. This one was different than the legions before it.

Yet despite his intent, he knew that Eilistraee would never be swayed. Indeed, as he felt her break the composure offered to her by her station, tears streaming down her cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel a brief spark of pity. Everyone wanted something personal for themselves; it was perhaps the one thing they and the mortals shared with one another.

“You’re wrong.” She finally said.

“Were you not the one to admit that I know things? Pray, how –”

“You’re wrong.”

“You understand –”

“I understand what you are!” She bellowed, the melodious tone of her voice dying to the thunder that filled it now. “Yet I care not! There are truths that not even you may see, despite the length of your life, and this is one such truth.” He felt her body tense, her heart beginning to race; never a good sign. “You may believe what you wish. She is not a…replacement, nor an obsession. She is –”

“Do not regurgitate what Mystra spoke of, I have little patience for it.”

“For it was a piece that you missed.”

“For it is a prophecy that has no meaning.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Your sister held those ridiculous statements to heart and look where it delivered her. I grieve every day that I did not persuade her from her path. Prophecies…” He spat. “Each as false as the last.”

“Seek paleblood –”

“Enough!” He snapped. “I will not have a child drudge up what should have been left to rot.”

She remained mercifully quiet, waiting as he rubbed his eyes, a slight ache forming in the recesses of his mind, as cobwebbed memories shook the dust from themselves.

“What you did…” He said quietly. “was unacceptable. The more we act in unpredictable ways, the greater the chance our adversary notices. Had Waterdeep been destroyed, I have no doubt he’d advance his plans tenfold.” He folded his hands over his lap. “To that end, I forbid you from interfering beyond your realm, both subtly, and on a grander scale. This isn’t a conversation we should be having; it should have never happened in the first place. I understand why it did, but I will not tolerate a second occurrence. Should you break your oath again, I will erase you as per the terms of our oath. Do not make this mistake.”

He leaned back in his chair until all he could see were those stormy yellow clouds above.

“Are these terms agreeable for you?”

“Yes.”

And she was gone, vanished from his realm entirely; he had felt the shift long before it occurred, but held no desire in stopping her. Despite her anger, Eilistraee would take his words to heart. There wouldn’t be another issue.

He sighed and closed his eyes, veins of red continuing to crackle above him.

How much he wished he was better with his children; after millennia upon millennia of practice, one would have thought everything would have been easier. Alas, that never seemed the case.

Not that it would matter in the grand scheme of this world.