The year is 1374 DR. Sixteen years have passed since the Time of Troubles, when the gods were made humble, and forced to wander the Realms as mortals. With the ascension of the mad god Cyric, Prince of Lies, and the recent return of the tyrant god Bane, Lord of Darkness, the future of Faerûn seems increasingly uncertain. It falls to bold individuals who possess an abundance of cunning, might, and determination to shape the future... should they be up to the challenge.

Traffic returns to Everlund's streets as the twilight's last hours give way to darkness, and the weary and famished conclude their labors for the day. Throwing your hood over your head, you meld with the crowd, remaining inconspicuous as you set off for Amaranth's tower. Uneasy as you are leaving Ilanis by her lonesome, delivering the dreadful secrets held between your hands right this moment must take precedence over your - rather unnatural - concern for her wellbeing.

Passing through the portal, now accustomed to the unusual method of transport, you call out to the High Sorcerer and even his apprentice, receiving no response. With all haste, you ascend the spiral staircase, and project your voice into the proverbial sea of books. Naught but silence returns. Swearing to yourself, you hurriedly sprint for the exit, acknowledging that he is out tonight. Where, then, has he gone? Amaranth does not seem the sort to socialize at a tavern, nor do you suspect that he worships the surfacer gods. Indeed, with the market closed, you can think of only one place he would be on this evening.