494 Aimon
[BONUS]
Seconds passed, and when nothing happened, Ren was about to offer something else when an unnerving sadness, deep silence, and darkness descended upon the monument.
Shadows deepened, and colors faded to gray – except for rivulets of glowing crimson that began snaking their way up the elven statues, almost like pulsing veins of blood.
Though only seconds had passed and Ren hadn't moved, he sensed that he was no longer in the Verdant Woods – or, at least, not wholly so. The gloom around him dissolved into dark mist after a dozen places or so, and the starless sky seemed to weigh down upon him as if he were in a cave rather than outside.
If the players chose wrongly and shone magical light on the Father of Elves' statue, the light would be snuffed out, and the players would suffer psychic damage.
If the players presented an offering of life to the Wise Mother's statue, the offering begins to rot, as does the flesh of the characters offering it, taking necrotic damage.
If the players presented an offering of love to the Goldenheart's statue, the players would suffer force damage and would be knocked back or thrown away by force.
And if the players were presented with a gift that is altogether wrong, flashes of crackling and arcane magic would shoot from the statues, and the characters would be pushed back and take force damage.
When Ren was finally inside the Shadowmire, he saw straight ahead a lone humanoid figure kneeling with its back to him on the withered grass in front of a pile of heavy stones.
As Ren regained his bearing, the figure turned its head to regard him. His features were twisted with anguish. Dark tears had left trails down his pale cheeks and stained his beard.
There was a gash of deep crimson across his throat – a wound that should have been lethal, though no blood poured from it.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the man whispered.
As he rose, Ren noticed that the darkness clung to the man, and shadows seeped off him like smoke.
A prompt then appeared on Ren's screen.
[While still human at his core, Aimon's prolonged stay in the Shadowmire had imbued him with dark powers, transforming him into a Shadowmire Shade Lord.]
Although Aimon didn't attack Ren, he was wary of his motives.
"My name's Ren," he said. "I was sent to investigate what happened here."
Hatred flared in Aimon's eyes, and he growled, "Did Amilia send you? It's not enough that she leaves me to die. Now she sends you to finish the job?"
". . ." Hmm . . . Was Amelia behind this, after all? Ren thought, intrigued by the story as he continued to ask.
"What happened between you and your sister?"
Aimon was silent for a moment before he spoke of his story on how he and El'athal met each other. How he fought against his sister's thirst for expansion, and how Amilia found him with El'athal and slew the dark elf – in cold blood, or Aimon believed.
So that's what happened. Ren mused to himself as everything was coming into place.
"How did you get here?" Ren questioned since Aimon didn't seem like he was going to fight him.
"I don't know . . . I could feel that I was dying, bleeding out. Suddenly, I was here, and the bleeding stopped. I buried El'athal as best as I could but couldn't find my way back to the light."
"Do you know what's been happening in Eldermill?" Ren asked further.
"Eldermill is a mistake," Aimon hissed. "We should never have settled near the dark elves' land. I hate myself for it. I hate Eldermill, and most of all, I hate my sister for what she's done. I can feel my hate enveloping the village. I hope it swallows them all. Then this will be all over."
Aimon was the center of the dark curse that enveloped the Verdant Woods. It seemed like ending the curse. Ren must either promise to help him gain vengeance, convince him to let go of his hatred, or slay him.
Ren paused for a moment to make his decision. The easiest route was, of course, to slay Aimon.
However, Ren was worried that he wouldn't get those treasures if he chose the easy route. So he decided to take the path to redemption.
Though Aimon had all but succumbed to the Shadowmire's darkness, Ren could maybe appeal to the sliver of good still inside him and maybe be able to convince him to forgive Eldermill and his sister.
But how to do so, Ren had an idea.
"El'athal's soul wouldn't find peace as long as his body is in the Shadowmire. You know that, right?"
Aimon didn't speak.
And Ren proceeded to speak the poems that El'athal wrote Aimon – at least what he could remember, and he was hoping that it would do the trick.
His effort was answered when Aimon's tight face and hatred-filled eyes slowly disappeared, and he seemed to revert back to his normal self.
"You're right . . . you're right . . . ," Aimon croaked, wiping a dark tear from his cheek. "This isn't what El'athal would have wanted. His heart would break if he saw me like this."
Ren briefly closed his eyes and sighed in relief. For a second there, he thought it wouldn't work, and he had no choice but to kill Aimon to get this done and over with.
Straightening his back, Aimon fixed his gaze on Ren. "I'm ready. Take me back. I will make sure El'athal is buried with his people, where he belongs. I will forgive my sister – not for her sake but for El'athal's. And I'll find a way for Eldermill to live in peace with the dark elves like El'athal always wanted."
With Aimon's blessing, Ren could now begin the ritual to bring the Yil'Quessir Ayin back to the Material Plane. He should just offer the same thing to the statues.
He could also use the stone that Queen Eleanor gave him, but since he already knew the ritual, there was no need. He would reserve it when the time came that he would go to the Fey Realm together with the other players.
