After a deliberate journey, Slaan and Nhal reach Waterdeep beneath crowded towers and crowded sails. The City of Splendors presses around them with bells, salt wind, and shouting traders.
Kynes, Bren, Mara, and Vetta remain in Phandelver. Here, only Nhal accompanies Slaan, her violet shadow-form steady beneath the shifting harbor light.
Near the docks, a weathered waystone leans between stacked crates. As they pass, the silver-marked map briefly sketches a black-crystal observatory beneath unfamiliar stars, then becomes ordinary ink again.
Nhal
It showed itself without being summoned. Not a command, then. Perhaps a reminder that the road is still there.
A bookseller, an elderly halfling woman with copper-brown skin, a hooked nose, and white hair tucked beneath a green cap, arranges damp volumes beneath a striped awning.
The Bookseller
Sailors’ tales, freshly copied. Vanished stars, forbidden ruins, islands that remember every ship. Dangerous reading, if you believe half of it.
Among the collection, one weather-stained book bears a faint silver mark matching the map. The harbor surges behind them, and Waterdeep offers no explanation.
Learn what the silver-marked book reveals