Supernatural Charisma

The Silver Mother, also known as the Lady of the Silver Moon, was one of the two oldest deities in the Realms. After Ao, the Overgod, fashioned its heavens and created the crystal sphere to keep out the "phlogiston" of the outer reaches, the Lady of the Silver Moon and her sister were born from the primordial void.

Thus, the Silver Mother and the Lady of the Night were the two oldest deities beneath Ao. They had once shared every divine domain: the Silver Mother embodied the universe's first ray of light, while the Lady of the Night embodied primordial darkness.

As the Realms gradually took shape, a third deity was born: the Earth Mother. In the bitterly cold void, she begged the two primordial goddesses for warmth. Only the Silver Mother answered. She went to the Elemental Plane of Fire and brought back the Eternal Flame, using it to kindle a celestial body—the sun. Only then did the earth gain light, warmth, and life.

But this enraged the Lady of the Night. Unlike her elder sister, who loved the light, she wanted eternal darkness and absolute silence. Her sister's act had ruined the world she had enjoyed.

The younger sister attacked the elder. That was how the primordial war that continued to this day began.

As the last of the Salians, a Lineage that had revered the Silver Mother for generations, Aaron knew the story by heart. He had heard it retold every week from the time he could speak until adulthood. How could he not remember it?

The version he had heard, though, made no mention of Ao.

Only the vast upheaval two years ago had taught the mortals of the Realms that there was a god above the gods!

Aaron knew only bits and pieces about the Forgotten Realms, but he had read about the sisters' struggle in web novels countless times. There was no way he didn't know about the Time of Troubles.

The Silver Mother had been at a disadvantage from the start. Darkness was eternal, while light was fleeting, and her younger sister could always use her power to extinguish her radiance. In the end, the Silver Mother staked everything on one move, releasing most of her own essence to grievously wound her sister and win a temporary victory. The Weave and the first goddess of magic were born from that act.

But she had hurt herself twice as badly as her enemy. The Silver Mother lost nearly all her strength, while the Lady of the Night retained most of hers. As the Silver Mother's divine power continued to wane, she even spent a time with only weak divine power and had to become a subordinate deity of Lady Firehair to seek her protection.

Aaron still remembered his parents arguing over it. His father had gone to a huge party held by Lady Firehair's church and partied for a day and a night. He came home dazed, unable even to straighten his legs. His mother had raised hell, and his father had only just gotten away with it by claiming that the Silver Mother was Lady Firehair's subordinate deity.

That claim had left young Aaron profoundly shaken.

After the catastrophe ended, the Silver Mother had appeared many times among mortals and fought beside them for the peace and stability of the Realms, leaving behind many glorious deeds. Moved by her contributions, people in many places began worshiping her again. Her divine power recovered to a moderate level, allowing her to part amicably with Lady Firehair and stand on her own once more.

After running through all this in his head, Aaron fixed his gaze between the two sacred white trees. There, in a silver garden bathed in moonlight, stood a beauty beneath the moon.

Her figure looked indistinct. To Aaron, she was sometimes a slender maiden with delicate features and skin as fair as snow-white jade. She wore a gauzy dress, and long, straight white hair with neat bangs framed a perfect face and a pair of captivating green eyes. At other times, she was a little girl with black hair and black eyes, wearing only a robe as sheer as moonlight and watching Aaron with an expression that seemed to ask, "Big brother, what are you doing?"

Perhaps realizing that form was inappropriate, the moonlit beauty finally settled on an appearance. Before Aaron stood a mature woman of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with long, moon-white hair falling naturally down her back. A section at the front hung beside her smooth, pale left cheek.

She wore no makeup. Her long silver-white lashes fluttered, giving her a gentle beauty, and her clear eyes brimmed with maternal warmth. She had a dainty nose and soft, rosy lips. Standing in the garden beneath the moonlit treetops, she was as serene as a landscape painting.

The pale blue-green velvet gauze of her dress was lifted high by a miraculous fullness. A white pearl necklace circled her slender neck. Below, long, shapely legs wrapped in her flowing gown gleamed in the moonlight.

Her legs were crossed, and her bare feet rested on the garden ground. Her small toes shone like white jade. Her rounded ankles lifted slightly, giving her an indescribably tranquil beauty.

She was the Silver Mother, the deity Aaron's Salian Lineage had revered for seven hundred years, ever since their ancestor Lyondolf, and one of the oldest deities in the Realms.

This was her manifestation as the Lady of the Silver Moon.

Before Selûne herself, how could he not kneel? As soon as Aaron was ushered into the garden, the viscount, who had come seeking a favor, dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "My lady!"

"Your soul is resilient, Salian, my child. Not every soul can look directly upon a deity." The Lady of the Silver Moon's voice was full of maternal warmth. Her words nourished Aaron's weary, fading soul like a clear spring and guided him like moonlight glimpsed by a traveler lost in a dark forest. He relaxed despite himself, the tension in him easing considerably. "I know what happened to your parents. I'm sorry. At the time, I could do nothing for Manuel and Elizabeth."

"You need not—and should not—bear the slightest responsibility for what happened to my father and mother, my lady. They served their sovereign and gave their lives for their country. I'm proud of them." Aaron shook his head slightly, trying to control his expression and look like a devout believer who was strong despite his grief.

Still, the fact that the Silver Mother remembered his parents among countless followers, and could even name them, eased his mind a little.

There was no way to blame the Silver Mother for their deaths. When his parents fell in battle, she had been running a business in Waterdeep.

Before the Time of Troubles, her chaotic nature had led her to abandon most of her divine power on a whim and walk among mortals in avatar form. She had opened a little tavern and inn in Waterdeep, living a quiet life and experiencing what it was like to be mortal.

Her sister, the Lady of the Night, had seized the chance to disguise herself as the "real Silver Mother" and appear before Selûne. Cut off from her divine realm during the Time of Troubles, her power and memory impaired, the goddess had seen "herself" standing before her. Her mind had collapsed in confusion, and her sister had captured and imprisoned her, nearly brainwashing her into becoming the Lady of the Night's Chosen. Fortunately, a group of legendary adventurers had rescued her. Once her power returned, the elder sister defeated the younger and threw her onto a spire in Waterdeep.

That story was widely told too, and was considered another great victory for the Lady of the Silver Moon over the Lady of the Night. Waterdeep became holy ground for her church. Every year, believers held a grand celebration led by the high priestess of moonlight and staged a play with live actors reenacting how the Lady of the Silver Moon had beaten the Lady of the Night with her mace, rubbing the defeat in all over again.

Aaron said nothing more. He knelt in silence, awaiting the deity's decision.

The goddess seemed to be considering something as well. More than ten seconds passed before she noticed Aaron was still kneeling. A trace of gentleness entered her beautiful eyes. "Rise. I know what happened to you. That warlock is a servant of Cyric. On Cyric's orders, he was hunting the divine offspring of Bane and Bhaal to wipe out the Dead Three's influence completely."

So it was Cyric! Aaron's gaze sharpened. He rose and nodded. "Yes, my lady. The warlock named Mepham told me, 'Child of Bhaal, I will offer you to the supreme Dark Sun.'"

"But you aren't a child of Bhaal." The goddess gave a small laugh, Aaron's reflection visible in her clear eyes. "Bhaal and Bane both foresaw that they might fall. They sent avatars into the Realms many times and fathered a great many children."

"I can't be certain what you are, but you are certainly not a child of Bhaal. I watched your father and mother grow up as well. You are all my children."

"Yes, my lady sees all." Aaron said the words aloud, but his heart skipped a beat.

Had the goddess noticed something?

"I cannot obtain justice for you now, Salian." At the mention of Cyric, the goddess's fine brows drew together. "Cyric recovered the Tablets of Fate and earned Ao's approval. His power now blazes like the midday sun. Not only has he gathered all the Dead Three's authority, he has also gained the domains of betrayal, lies, and murder. He has just killed Phantom Goddess Leira and taken illusion and deception from her."

"Cyric is more powerful now than even the ancient god of death was at his height."

"Then let the gods handle the gods and mortals handle mortals, my lady. This feud is between Mepham and me. I'll settle accounts with him. What I ask—what I desperately need—is for the negative energy inside me to be removed. My lady, this is your servant's humble plea." Aaron spoke urgently. "I'll pay any price for it. Anything."

"Please believe I'm sincere, my lady. I can sign a contract. I can give everything I have."

"I can promise to build you the grandest temple in history at the heart of the kingdom."

"I can fight for you and show the Lady of the Night's followers who truly rules the heavens..."

Aaron spoke faster and faster, his promises spilling out in a rush.

This was the crucial moment, his only chance. He could not let it pass!

He could already feel the emotion ebbing and the energy sustaining him gradually draining away. That deity's power was shutting down. Slaanesh's power, awakened by his first killing, by seeing a companion die for the first time, and by the shock of his first brush with death, was shutting down!

The moment it ceased, he would die.

He knew how powerful those four deities were. He knew his own potential and what he could accomplish. He could make promises. He could pay almost any price.

He wanted to live!

Even a seventh-circle divine spell could not solve his problem. His only chance was the power of a deity. It was his only hope. He understood that everything had its price: if he wanted something, he had to offer something in return.

If it comes to that, I can pretend to change my faith and repent later.

The viscount was like a drowning man. In his desperation, no price was too high.

He was going to die!!!

"Enough." The Lady of the Silver Moon raised her voice slightly. Aaron looked up in surprise. Her delicate brows were drawn tight, and a faint flush had risen beneath her pale neck. Her crossed, moon-white legs were held rigid. Under a translucent veil of moonlight, the delicate skin atop her feet looked exceptionally smooth. Her five exposed toes, pale as jade, curled before she gave the ground a small stamp. "Come here!"

Was the goddess angry?

Uneasy, Aaron dared not delay. Keeping his head lowered, he followed the goddess's bare feet through the moonlit garden. Too anxious even to notice the beautiful scenery around him, he walked on.

The Lady of the Silver Moon seemed to carry a faint, milky fragrance. She said nothing along the way.

The mortal and the goddess came to a small pond. The Lady of the Silver Moon raised both hands toward the sky. At her command, moonlight became moonfire, a luminous, milky-white fluid that flowed down her hands and into the pond. "Get in."

Aaron stepped straight into the pond. Its warm water gradually covered his entire body, and the moonfire spread through it.

Soon, drowsiness overtook him.

"One last question." The goddess's soft, gentle voice reached Aaron's ears. "Was the negative energy inside you truly left there by that warlock's Great Old One patron, as you claimed?"

Oh no!

Aaron jolted awake. A chill climbed from deep within him to the top of his head, and his mind raced for an explanation. "I..."

"Never mind. You don't have to answer." The Lady of the Silver Moon's voice remained calm. "I believe you know the answer."

"I only want you to know this: every gift fate bestows comes with a price, even if you cannot see it yet."

After a long silence, Aaron answered the goddess with a rueful laugh.

"It isn't a gift, my lady."

"It's a curse... I had no choice."

"Curses and power always go hand in hand," the goddess replied. "Like light and darkness, what matters is how you use it."

A deity's power was formidable. As more and more moonfire poured into the pond, Aaron's body began to change.

His young skin wrinkled and aged. Yellow patches appeared across it until it died completely.

From youth to age, from vigor to frailty, from a nobleman's tousled brown hair to a head of withered gray, Aaron passed through young adulthood, maturity, middle age, and old age in the space of a single hour.

At last, his body decayed completely.

But it did not end there. New life grew within that ruined body. Like a great serpent shedding its skin, the thick outer layer split open in long cracks.

Aaron rose from the moonfire-covered pond and threw out his arms with an involuntary roar.

He felt like an office worker who, after a week of overtime, had finally gotten three days off, slept at home for a full day and night, and eaten his fill. The exhaustion and weakness that had clung to him for so long were finally gone.

The reborn young man stood up in the pond, handsomer than before.

His eyes were striking, his brows refined, his bearing exceptional. His sharply defined features were flawless, and his bright, deep-blue eyes captivated like gemstones. A tempting sheen touched his thin lips, giving their outline an allure that seemed almost magical.

Aaron's features had not changed much. He merely looked a little more at ease. Yet that subtle difference showed just how little it took to carry the young man's looks beyond the ordinary into the extraordinary.

When he turned around, even the pale-faced Lady of the Silver Moon stared for a moment.

"Supernatural charisma?"

Current protagonist attributes (5e):

Strength 14 Constitution 14 Dexterity 14 Intelligence 14 Wisdom 14 Charisma 22