The autumn sun was still hot enough to bake anyone standing beneath it. The crowd outside Candlekeep was packed shoulder to shoulder, and many of the less robust monks were already drenched in sweat.
Mia muttered ceaselessly under her breath. Undead creatures were severely weakened by sunlight, but even so, she refused to release her grip on the Silver Tree.
Stan was already yawning. "Since Candlekeep's scholars are nothing but empty show, we might as well leave."
His words immediately drew furious glares from Candlekeep's elderly scholars.
Skyl nodded. He was beginning to feel tired as well. "You're right. It appears Candlekeep isn't anything special after all. Let's go."
The monks erupted into an uproar, but Skyl and his companions ignored them.
Stan raised an eyebrow. "Have you decided where we're going?"
"Out to sea. We'll find a deserted island and plant the tree there."
Skyl had already made his decision. According to the map, Candlekeep stood on the Sword Coast, and the Cimarine Isles lay only a dozen or so nautical miles to the west.
Doric looked confused and whispered, "But the power of nature spirits weakens at sea."
"The ocean has its own nature spirits, and a deserted island still gives us solid ground," Skyl replied. "The flying enclaves of Netheril could travel freely and even cross between planes. That would perfectly compensate for the Silver Tree's inability to move."
The young druid only half understood him.
Candlekeep's scholars, however, immediately erupted in astonishment.
"Sir, wait... Good sir, what did you just say? A flying enclave? Have you obtained the secret scrolls of Netheril?" Bishop Ulen shrieked like a teenage girl meeting her favorite celebrity.
In truth, any knowledgeable spellcaster would have struggled to remain calm after hearing the words flying enclave.
Flying enclaves represented not only the greatest magical civilization of humanity's age, but were also linked to one of the most famous lost artifacts in history, the Nether Scrolls.
According to legend, the Nether Scrolls were the treasure of the sarrukh, one of the Creator Races. They were originally known as the [Golden Skins of the World Serpent]. The countless arcane secrets recorded within them were studied by generation after generation of scholars, eventually giving rise to a universal system of magical theory that formed the foundation of modern magic throughout Faerûn.
After the Netherese acquired those scrolls, they used the vast and profound knowledge within them to develop an overwhelmingly powerful magical civilization. Although still young and full of vitality, that civilization produced countless figures of astonishing talent.
One of them was the great arcanist Ioulaum, inventor of the mythallar.
His invention was so important that an entire era was named after it.
A mythallar could reach deep into the Weave and draw forth raw, unfiltered magical energy. The power it generated was both tremendous and stable, enough to suspend an entire mountain in the sky.
That was how the flying enclaves had been born.
The great arcanists of Netheril cut mountains in half, inverted their peaks, and used mythallars to make those immense masses of stone float like magical ships.
During the age of Netheril, every great arcanist possessed the ability to construct a flying enclave of their own. In that era, when humanity's stars shone at their brightest, one enclave after another rose into the sky. Some hung in the heavens like dark, unlit stars. Others patrolled the skies like comets, plunged beneath the ocean, or traveled freely between planes.
Protected by the powerful barriers generated by their mythallars, the inhabitants of those cities could safely admire the magnificent wonders of the multiverse.
In those days, the elves' former glory had faded. The dwarves remained provincial stonecutters, dragons slumbered in hiding, and orcs had been driven into the frozen wastelands north of the Spine of the World. None of the other peoples amounted to a serious rival.
It was easy to imagine how proud the people of Netheril must have been.
Yet all that prosperity had long since become history. Even gods were destined to fall, much less a sandcastle built by mortals.
The Nether Scrolls had already been stolen during the age of the magical empire. Most were eventually destroyed, and only a few fragments were occasionally unearthed. Even a single page was considered a priceless treasure by those who pursued knowledge.
Candlekeep might have been the greatest library in Faerûn, but it had never been fortunate enough to acquire even one page of the Nether Scrolls.
Skyl naturally did not possess them, nor did he need them. For a spellcaster who had touched the roots of magic and the soul of the cosmos, few mysteries remained in the world. Even if the Nether Scrolls contained some knowledge unknown to him, it would merely be a welcome addition rather than something essential.
The first requirement for constructing a flying enclave was a magical device similar to a mythallar, something capable of supplying enough power to suspend one hundred billion tons of earth and stone.
Building a mythallar had not been easy even during the height of the Netherese Empire. A great arcanist needed to accumulate wealth and resources for years before they could afford one.
And what sort of person was Skyl?
A penniless pauper who could not even afford the diamonds required to cast True Resurrection.
Fortunately, he had someone powerful backing him.
The [Eye of Magnus] in the possession of Skyl's true body happened to be sitting unused. He intended to borrow it and use it to construct the flying enclave.
There was fundamentally no difference between the avatar and the true body. The warlock had conceived this plan because his true body had instructed him to do so.
As a veteran employee of the Tower of Tomes, the Eye of Magnus had provided Skyl with tremendous assistance before he had grown powerful.
Ever since Skyl's divine war against Hermaeus Mora had exhausted the divine power stored within the Eye, the artifact had entered a prolonged period of recharging. Such a magnificent treasure had been left gathering dust for far too long.
It was time for this veteran employee to return to work.
Besides, Skyl had not forgotten that Azura once said Magnus wished to see more of the different worlds. Once the flying enclave was complete, Skyl could carry his Eye across the multiverse and fulfill that wish.
After constructing a flying enclave, Skyl, a traveler who had wandered without roots for so long, would finally possess somewhere to live.
A home.
The Tower of Tomes was wonderful, but it remained too cold, empty, and lonely to serve as a permanent residence.
A faint warmth spread through Skyl's heart. He could hardly wait to begin. It had been a long time since such a fierce emotion had filled his chest.
He suspected it was an influence from this avatar. Wandering through Wildspace had carved the desire for shelter deep into its bones.
Of course, Skyl had not forgotten the purpose of his visit.
Through an open and perfectly legitimate scheme, he had attracted the attention of countless Candlekeep scholars. The fish had taken the bait. All he needed to do now was wait for them to come to him willingly.
Skyl extended a hand and summoned Mora's Book back to him.
The Candlekeep scholar who had been reading it immediately looked devastated and cried out in anguish.
The cruelest thing one could do to an alcoholic was place a bottle of fine liquor before him and keep it forever beyond his reach.
For a bookworm, the only thing worse than a cliffhanger was a story canceled forever in the middle, with no continuation ever coming. To a scholar who thirsted for knowledge, that agony was worse than being slowly carved apart with a dull knife.
When the scholars saw that the white-robed man intended to leave, they hurried forward to block his path. More than a hundred yearning hands reached toward him, making them resemble desperate supplicants begging a saint for a blessing.
"Please wait!"
Ulraunt had been jostled among Oghma's priests until his luxurious clothing was disheveled. He no longer cared about maintaining his dignity.
"Honored guest from afar, please remain at Candlekeep for a few days!" he shouted. "Every secret within this library will be opened to you!"
Skyl lowered his gaze and regarded him with an ambiguous smile.
"Candlekeep's collection is insignificant to me. Do you desire my storehouse of knowledge? You may have all of it."
He turned toward the sea.
"Follow my footsteps. I will be waiting for you upon the ocean. All the knowledge in this world can be found there."
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