Somewhere uncomfortably warm...

During Zenithral's rest he feels a distant connection to Ilmater. There has always been something there, a vague awareness, much like how even with eyes closed a person can still sort of point to the nearest source of light. At the very least, he has always been forced to acknowledge that the light exists, but rarely has he ever felt any sense of warmth or comfort from the connection. As he considers what divine spells he may need in the immediate future, however, the glow seems to become brighter - or at least more focused, directed.

For the first time in a while, Zenithral feels an inner peace and calm flow through him. He is not alone here.

"Bene telemara! It's not poisoned. It's reasonably good fare for this place." The raven calls down from the top of the bookcase. "But if you don't want it, I know a guy who will. Handsome, intelligent, witty..." Another indignant squawk of pain. "Just eat it already!"

Indeed, the food is not poisoned. It looks to be some kind of blue sporebread topped with spicy red lichen paste, alongside a some strips of something that looks like tree bark, but is seasoned with salt. There is also a glass of water that once had ice in it, but is now as warm as the surrounding air.

Zenithral nods his thanks, cools the water with a wave of his hand and takes a drink. "Ah..." he says, obviously enjoying the raven's annoyance at his slow patience. "You, know my dear bird, I find you much more entertaining than a silent, praying half-elf. We actually do appreciate your company, don't we Fluphy? He takes his time with the food, savoring the taste and textures. He hadn't realized how famished he actually was...and how long it had been since a meal this good. Ug could only do so much while on the road and without a kitchen.

Holding near-perfect posture during the meal, dabbing his mouth with a cloth occasionally, he finally finishes the meal. "Absolutely delectable. Do give the chef my regards, my fine, feathered friend!"

"You know, for being a half-elf you're still full of - gah!" This time the pain has the raven flapping its wings in a sudden spasm.

Then it erupts into flame.

Zenithral catches just a hint of a small, leathery body with wings and a cruelly-tipped tail before the flames vanish, and then the raven is gone.

As the figure enters, Zenithral says a few instinctive words and closes his eyes, feeling for its presence.

He casts Detect Evil and Good"Helo again. Too shy for words, I see? Not to worry. I don't mind."

He stands from the table, returns to his pack and fishes for his orb of time and space he was gifted. Using it, he tries to discern the direction of north and the time of day...and whether or not he's on the material plane.

After that, he takes out his spellbook to study it, now bound by a leather strip sewed along the edge. Halla had once scolded him for being so disorganized, so he finally took the time to fix up the old manual.

The figure straightens abruptly at Zenithral's words, but says nothing until Zenithral takes out his book.

"Shy... I suppose I am," the familiar voice admits reluctantly. Zenithral looks up in time to see the figure remove her cowl. "But what does one say after so long? 'Hello,' just doesn't seem adequate." His mother smiles at him, hesitant but warm. "Even so; hello."

"Oh---!" Zenithral jumps and fumbles with his spellbook until it lands facedown on the ground, scattering pages that were probably sewn with too much haste. "Wh---pf--h---I didn't---" Zenithral sputters awkwardly as he reaches down to pick up the pages, then stops and turns around. "Mother?!" he manages.

He tilts his head and looks into her eyes, opening his mouth several times to speak, but no words come. "I...I have so many questions, but I'm afraid to ask any of them...so I guess I'll just start with the obvious...? His voice carries an edge of both relief and uncertainty. "Where are we, and why are you here?" He takes a seat at the table, folds his arms, and leans back, unsure of what to expect.

"Ask me anything, my son. I'll tell you what I can." Ilmadia sits across from him, her eyes taking in every detail of his face. They are a different color than Zenithral remembers. "This is Dorn's Deep, as you cleverly figured out." Her smile is full of pride, but the expression fades quickly. "I run things here," she says nonchalantly.

"Ah. That would explain the good accommodations," he says looking around. Still looking away from her, he continues. "I heard there are many prisoners here. Am I one of them?"

"Only until I can smuggle you out of here," Ilmadia replies. She follows Zenithral's gaze around the room, but she quickly returns to drinking in the sight of her son. "There is no need for you to be uncomfortable, however. Druzil was far too sarcastic when he asked on my behalf, so I'll ask again. Do you need anything? Just let me know what I can get for you." She seems genuinely eager to provide something.

"Understood." He nods and returns his gaze to her, feeling much more comfortable. "A new longbow would be nice, but I suppose that might be hard to expect. An arcane focus would be helpful for a few rituals, though. My old crystal was attached to the bow Nym the drow...traded...with me...Also, did you have cambion twins?" He holds an expectant look that demands more than a simple yes or no.

Ilmadia frowns slightly at the mention of a bow, but nods as he requests it and a focus. When he brings up the twins she freezes in place, hands clenching as the blood drains from her already pale face. "Why would you ask me something like that?"

"Well, you see, Erestor brought me to the Hand where we found two cambions, and he wanted me to help him kill them to 'save' you. Whether it would have done so or not, I could not bring myself to murder innocent children. Erestor is dead and the two children are being cared for elsewhere." Zenithral shrugs. "I just thought you might know something about it."

You always used to talk to me all about your new tricks and powers...I enjoyed them...well, most of them...Arannis would never let me stay around you long...I think after my recent adventures, I finally know why..." He slowly lowers his gaze as he speaks, face giving way to a distant depression.

Ilmadia stands abruptly as Zenithral talks about the Severed Hand. Each additional fact Zenithral delivers might as well be a slap as she gapes in shock and horror.

Arranis' name, however, calms the shock and replaces it with anger.

"Where are they?" Ilmadia's face and voice has solidified into one of cold rage. "Where are my babies?"

"And now you see why I said I was afraid to ask questions!" he says, putting a hand to his head.

He looks up into her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Harmony and Valiance are with Saki in a safe place. Someone I deeply trust is keeping the three of them safe, but for their safety, I don't wish to disclose their information for now---it's not that I don't trust you; it's just the fewer who know, the better. When I saw them, I fought off Erestor to save their lives, Mother. Should I have ignored Erestor and not gone with him in the first place? Yes, absolutely. But he said it was to save you. That's why I went. But I did everything I could, and I can assure you that I have done everything I can to ensure their safety."

Zenithral sighs and leans back in his chair. "I am sorry...I did not mean to provoke you...I just wanted to know...You know I was never much with words..." He chuckles. "Do you remember the time I tried to convince Saki that I liked her split-pea soup? She just about threw the whole pot over me by the time I was done."

Zenithral's memory does not amuse her. "I didn't mean to get upset with you, I just wasn't expecting the revelations that my children were found and moved and that my husband was killed by our son." Ilmadia puts her fingers to her temples and lets out a slow, hissing breath as she sits at the table.

When she looks up at Zenithral again much of her anger is gone, but there is still a manic look present in her eyes. "Thank you for protecting them. Not many would have taken the news of surprise siblings- especially ones like Isair and Madae-" her tone at those names is one of correction- "with such generosity, or defended them so stalwartly." Pride flickers in her gaze again, but her panic quickly overtakes it.

Gripping his hand tightly, Ilmadia leans forward and stares into Zenithral's eyes. Hers definitely look different than before, and she is paler. More drawn. There are faint stress lines on her face that should not have touched a half-elf like her for decades more. "I believe that you believe the twins are safe, but trust me, they aren't. Tell me where they are so I can return them to the Hand. It's the only place they will be safe."

"I didn't kill him. Val---Isair---that's the boy, I presume? He did that. As Erestor put a dagger through me. Madae saved me from the wound. They're powerful. I sense harsh power, but also radiance from them."

Zenithral cringes at the mention of the Hand. "The Hand is gone. The temporal magic collapsed and the great wizard...or what was left of him...destroyed it all."

A shimmering portal appears in the room, interrupting the conversation between mother and son, and the drow wizard Malavon steps through.

The ebon-skinned archmage opens his mouth to address Ilmadia, but then his red eyes fall on Zenithral. His white eyebrows form stark steeples as a wrathful grimace encompasses his face. "You!" Obviously a trick so simple as Zenithral changing the color of his skin is not enough to fool this master of the arcane.

Malavon turns heatedly to Ilmadia. "And this is where he has 'escaped' to? He was my prisoner! His meddling has set my work back for weeks! I demand that you relinquish him to my custody, so that I can make him pay for what he has done!"

Ilmadia's eyes nearly ignite with rage, and then in a flash it is gone. She rises cooly, and turns to stare the wizard down. He is taller than her, but it hardly matters.

"I shouldn't need to remind you that you are under my command. Your prisoners are my prisoners, and I will do with them as I will. Now." The word is as sharp as a whip crack. "Tell me quickly why you are here, and I may forget that you entered my chambers unannounced and began making demands of me." The familiar sound of a sword slowly escaping its sheath reaches Zenithral's ears, and Ilmadia begins inspecting the shining blade as though Malavon were not even there. "I certainly won't forget what you said about the set backs in your work."