Velentham had repeated his questions with four other council mages, when he got to the fifth one. A woman of indeterminable age from outward appearances, Velentham could sense that Cecilie Norwilth hid her true age behind many layers of spells. At the sight of the Celestial in her midst, she clasped her hands and smiled. "My what a treat. One of those seeking to do the greater good."
"A task in which you may be able to aid me," Velentham said as he closed the oak door behind him.
He delved into Cecilie's mind, scanning through the myriads of years that she had lived through. To do such work took him little time at all. He was more than skilled with mind mapping and traversal. To reach into the mind and bend it to his will was one of Velentham's special talents. He was known as a Mindwalker, and all his magic focus, when not bent on the total annihilation of evil, was poured into the perfection of this craft. It was useful when demanding information of demons, finding out things they had hidden, rooting out their deceit. His skill was a light shone into the dark crevasses of their minds. Then he would slay them with ferocity. Now, however, being so far from Elysium for so long, he had no resetting of his internal barometer. The absolute disdain he held for evil, using his talent for their erradication, was warped, twisted, and sending him down into a darkness of his own creation. A darkness that even he couldn't sense.
Cecilie's mind unfurled before his own, until at long last, a vision of a keep. He halted, delving deeper into the recollection. A fellow mage was with her, and she was young. They were having a picnic near a pile of ruins in the middle of a wide expanse of grassy field. "Where is this?" he asked her mentally.
"Hordelands," her mind offered. "Beautiful Ice Sea. Beautiful day for a picnic."
"What are these ruins?" he probed.
"Long dead, long gone. Winterkeep is no more."
"What of the portal beneath? Is it there?"
"Lore," her mind offered like a breath of wind. "The three hold the gloves, the three were scattered, the three are no more."
Velentham released his grip on her mind and spat out a curse. The entire plan was for naught. The vision in her mind in recalling the story pulled up what appeared as illustrations in an ancient children's book. Three nobles that had to control the energies to activate the portal... Velentham's dream was wrong, and he didn't like to be wrong. He wiped his visit from Cecilie's mind and cast a spell, taking him from the council seat to the inn room where Sanria lay sleeping. He paced, he cursed, he scowled, he slammed a hand on the dresser. "Father! Give me a sign!" Nothing.
He sat on the bed, staring down at Sanria with a deep sigh. Everything he had hoped for was gone. They didn't have time to chase down gloves nor a sufficient group versed in how to use them. He sighed again and reached over, touching Sanria's hair. It had been so long since she'd stumbled into his realm...
Velentham sat up, his eyes wide. The elf. The elf with Sanria... she had gotten them there. A new plan revealed itself. Velentham didn't need to find children's stories. Velentham needed to find Kaliadra.
