of her power — a modified geas spell meant for her intended avatar. The spell took the form of a bluish white falcon, soared into the night sky, and escaped. Bane ordered Blackthorne to follow the magical creature. The emissary transformed into a great black raven that took flight after the falcon, only to lose sight of it in Arabel.
When he imprisoned the goddess in the dungeon of Castle Kilgrave with mystic chains born of enchanted fires, Bane felt a wave of power rush across the room. The barren rock dungeon shook as Mystra came to her senses and tested the strength of her bonds.
And then Bane summoned a horror to keep Mystra weak and tractable.
Come, monster, I call you into this plane, as my minions have so many times before.
Bane heard a growl, deep in the back of his mind as the creature replied, I come.
It first appeared as a swirling red mist, spiraling like a cyclone as it rose up and sprouted hundreds of quivering, misshapen hands that cleaved the air before the goddess hungrily. An equal number of pale yellow eyes suddenly opened, and they floated all around the swirling mist, passing like ghosts through their fellows as they darted back and forth, each eye anxious to study its prey from every angle. Finally, a score of wounds tore through the mists, revealing gaping mouths that reached back into an endless succession of dark dimensions. The mouths opened and closed rapidly as a cry that could only be considered one of hunger was loosed from them.
Mystra recognized the creature: it was a hakeashar, a being from another plane with a voracious appetite for magic. Bane had no doubt made a pact with the monster. In return for aid in crossing into the Prime Material Plane, the monster would give the Black Lord something he valued — power. For the hakeashar had the ability to release some of the magic it consumed, and Bane would want that raw energy to power his plans.
Mystra considered her options. If Bane had been foolish enough to enter into a pact with the creature, known for its treacherous nature, there might be a way she could use it to her advantage.
'We have much to discuss,' Bane said, the hakeashar hovering behind him.
'Why have you imprisoned me?' Mystra said.
'I will be happy to release you from these shackles once you have heard me out… And you agree to help me complete my plan.'
'Go on.'
'I wish to form an alliance of the gods,' Bane said. 'Swear your allegiance to me and my cause, Goddess, and I will set you free.'
Despite the presence of the hakeashar, Mystra could not hold back her laughter. 'You're mad,' she said.
'No,' Bane said. 'Merely practical.' He turned to the creature. 'She's yours,' Bane said calmly. 'But remember our agreement.'
Of course.
A hundred eyes turned from Bane and this time Mystra could not hold back her screams.
When it was over, the grotesque creature giggled and fed his own glowing eyes into its gaping maws, ready to sleep now that it had feasted. Mystra was surprised to find herself alive. The pain, even in her nebulous form, had been horrifying.
Bane screamed curses at the creature until it opened a few eyes and let loose a burst of bluish white fire that enshrouded the villain. After a moment, Bane literally pulsed with stolen power.
'Enough!' Bane cried, and the blue-white fires ceased.
'It was you, wasn't it?' Mystra said as she struggled sluggishly with her bonds. 'You stole the Tablets of Fate. I suspected you from the beginning.'
'I took them,' Bane said, and the creature he had brought to this plane slumped in place, swallowed the last of its eyes and fell into a deep, silent slumber. 'Along with Lord Myrkul.'
'Ao will make you pay for this,' she said, and Bane felt a trace of the magic that had been siphoned from her curl within him, waiting to be unleashed.
'Ao will have no power over me,' the Black Lord said, his laughter filling the chamber.
Since that night, Bane had let the hakeashar take Mystra's power, which seemed to replenish itself like the blood cells of a human, more than a dozen times. Each time, Bane received a fraction of that energy, according to the terms of his bargain with the creature.
Each time he was given more power, Bane prowled the corridors of New Acheron, the former Castle Kilgrave, longing for his true temple, and wishing for someone to share his triumphs with. Blackthorne was away almost constantly, either supervising matters in Zhentil Keep or searching for some sign of the magic Mystra had loosed before her capture. The handful of humans Blackthorne had conscripted to look after Bane's human needs were pitiful examples of the species, and Bane had no interest in any of them.
Today, Lord Bane stood in the massive dungeon beneath Castle Kilgrave, staring at the still water of the scrying pool he had constructed, speaking to Lord Myrkul. Much of the room — much of the castle, in fact — had been modified to suit Bane's needs, and Castle Kilgrave had undergone many changes since the god took it over as a base. The Black Lord had attempted to magically sculpt certain chambers and hallways into replicas of his Temple of Suffering in Acheron, although his efforts had met with failure much of the time. The instability of magic made it impossible, even for a god, to throw every spell accurately, and when using magic, Bane felt like an artist attempting to paint without benefit of hands. The shape of the castle was almost amusing to Bane except for its existence as a monument to his loss, and in that regard it gave no pleasure to the displaced god.
'What do you hope to achieve by draining Mystra's power?' Myrkul said impatiently. 'Your mortal form can contain only so much power at a time, and the vessel must always be refilled.'
'You miss the point,' Bane said. 'You and I formed an alliance when we stole the tablets together.'
'A temporary alliance,' Myrkul said. 'Which has hardly proven successful. Look at what we have become. Less than gods, more than men. What place have we in the Realms, Lord Bane?'
Bane looked at the emaciated, almost skeletal face of Myrkul's avatar, then thought of his own hideous form and shuddered.
'We have our birthright,' Bane said. 'We are gods, no matter what trials Ao puts us through.' Bane shook his head, then stopped himself as he realized it was a purely human gesture. 'Myrkul, think back to why we took the Tablets of Fate.'
Myrkul scratched his bony face, and Bane nearly laughed. The sight of the feared God of the Dead plagued by something so ordinary as a human itch was so pathetic it was almost funny. The God of Strife sighed at the idea and went on.
'We stole the tablets because we believed Ao drew strength from them, and without the tablets, Ao would be less inclined to interfere with our dealings.'
'So we believed,' Myrkul said ruefully. 'We were fools to do so.'
'We were right!' Bane shouted. 'Think for a moment! Why has Ao not taken the tablets back?'
Myrkul set his bony hands at his side. 'I have wondered that myself.'
'I think it is because Ao cannot!' Bane said. 'Perhaps he no longer has the strength. That may be why our liege exiled us from the Planes! Our plan succeeded, and Ao feared that the gods would unite, and rise up in revolt. That is why Ao has scattered us across the Realms and made us suspicious, afraid, and vulnerable to attack.'
'I see,' Myrkul said. 'But this is only your theory.'
'Supported by the facts,' Bane said. 'I have already captured our first pawn in this game, if you would call her that.'
'Mystra?'
'With her power, all the magic in the Realms will be ours to control!' Bane laughed. He was lying, of course. If the goddess had such power, he never would have captured her so easily.
'Those gods who do not wish to go along with your plans will be enslaved or destroyed, I assume,' Myrkul said suspiciously. 'And you will use Mystra's power to accomplish this.'
'Of course,' Bane said. 'But we are already allies. Why speak of such things?'
'Indeed,' Myrkul said.
'Further, I believe there is power to free us from this state,' Bane said. 'Power Mystra has secreted somewhere in the Realms.'
Myrkul nodded. 'How do you plan to proceed?'
'We will discuss that later,' Bane said. 'For now I must deal with other, equally pressing matters.'
Myrkul lowered his head, and his image faded from the scrying pool. In truth, Bane had contacted Myrkul prematurely; he had not yet decided what the next move should be.
