As the party fled through the streets of Solaris, Landor intercepted them from an alley. He had noticed Jorin return to the Gilded Dragon Tavern without them and set out with the Hammer of Elandria and the Crown of Judgement in hand. Tomas thanked them for their help, gave a wink, and disappeared into the city. The party made for the Grand Cathedral of Elandria—though citizens noticed them along the way, and one woman sent her daughter to inform Cassira.
Outside the cathedral, Greymoor stopped them, demanding to know what had happened. When Momeline and Dravencoles brushed him off, he grew frustrated and spoke only to Lirielle and Ferinthria, telling them to bring real evidence on Brynn to his office at the bank.
Inside, a service was underway. As Momeline led the group toward Castellan’s office, Dravencoles felt a pulsing warmth from the golden feather as they passed certain walls. The service and attentive clergy made investigation difficult, but Ferinthria convinced a clergywoman to leave them alone by telling her Landor was “special,” and a priest eventually offered them a solitary prayer room.
Once alone, Dravencoles traced the warmth to a wall bearing hidden runes. With Lirielle’s help deciphering the script, he pressed the feather to the arch’s keystone. The stones parted to reveal a sacred chamber of blessed phoenix ash, used to divine whether a person lives or dies. Momeline thought of her brother and saw a halfling face age before her eyes—alive. Lirielle thought of Lord Kael and saw him falling endlessly through darkness; he sensed her presence and mouthed the words “unite the gods.” Dravencoles thought of Talan and saw his friend in bird form still chasing the raven, but flying toward Mount Kraknor rather than Southaven.
With the cathedral emptying for a holiday lunch, the party used the distraction to access a second hidden passage. Below, they descended into the most sacred depths of the church—and found them corrupted. Lirielle killed one cultist with a firebolt while Momeline assassinated another in silence. Deeper still, Dravencoles accidentally triggered a room full of skeletons, which Ferinthria obliterated with a single devastating fireball. The force of the spell surged through her and wild magic twisted her form into a pink goat.
Undeterred, Momeline mounted goat-Ferinthria and charged through the next door to interrupt a cultist ritual. The party cut them down, but not before one completed a spell that snuffed every candle and filled the room with cold. Shadows poured from the corners and undead clawed from the walls. Wave after wave fell, until only a powerful wight remained. As Dravencoles moved to strike, he felt the Hammer of Elandria call to him for the first time. He lifted it, swung, and the wight exploded in radiant light as every candle flickered back to life. Then, as if drawn by something beyond his will, Dravencoles walked to the altar and lay upon it—and vanished.
Dravencoles awoke and found himself among the stars. He felt himself ripped between memories, futures, and possibilities. When a remorseless murderer knelt before him, he chose empathy over retribution. When a young paladin confessed dark thoughts and asked whether to hide them, Dravencoles counseled confession over concealment. And when offered the mantle of High Marshal, he chose service over leadership. The Hammer of Elandria accepted his answers, and Dravencoles attuned to the weapon at last.