You Never Call Any More

It's funny how the Infinite Staircase can leave its travellers forever changed along its marble steps while the outside world remains none the wiser. The small alley in Daring Heights, just north of the Gilded Mirror on the way towards the Four Fair Winds, looks no different now than it did before The Infinites Pantos and Azmodan appeared and warped the fabric of space to create a doorway to worlds without number. The same stones still shift underfoot. The same walls still press in, squeezing the last remaining dregs of space out of this corner of the city.

Change within, change without.

As Henri says goodbye to Digs, Lilia, and Robin, bowing slightly in thanks for their work in sealing the portal to the Void of Nothingness, he notices very little of this. His focus is on the couple already walking south back towards the Dawn Quarter, and to the eladrin already rushing off to "see about something."

He steps quickly to catch up to them, Gerhard and Orianna, his hands shoved deep into his pockets with a reserved slouch of his shoulders.

"Calla said she'd join us later, right?" he asks, once he is a handful of steps away.

Orianna nods. "She did not mention what she needed to do but she said she'll come." Her gaze brushes over the curve of Henri's shoulders and her brows pinch together. "I hope that is okay, that I invited her."

"Hmm? Yes, that's fine." With a few more strides, he catches up to walk next to Orianna. "I'm surprised you invited me."

She glances away, shame colouring her cheeks as she shrinks down a little. There is a gentle squeeze from Gerhard's hand, the encouragement she needs to slowly look back at Henri.

"There are many reasons I was hesitant to, before. But after what you-" Orianna stops herself. She doesn't want to sound rude or presumptuous, not to Henri, not when things are still slightly volatile. After a second of considering her words, she tries again. "…After what was said, I thought a chance to speak together might help — all of us."

Henri raises an eyebrow, the bashful tiefling beside him a far cry from the starry archer calling down thunder and lightning no more than an hour previous. "Aw, Orianna, are you worried about me?" He leans to the side mid-stride, tapping his shoulder against hers. "Isn't that the big guy's job?" With a wide grin, he tilts his head back to wink at Gerhard. "Though you've had other things on your mind, right G?"

"Doesn't matter what else is on my mind, I always worry about both of you. Though it is usually worrying about what level of stupidity you walk into and have to be pulled out from," Gerhard says somewhat sarcastically.

Slightly more under his breath Gerhard says, "Especially with recent events I can't help but worry about you two." He squeezes Orianna's hand and raises their entwined hands to give the back of hers a kiss.

"Which brings me back to my questions about what happened today," Orianna sighs, half smiling even as the divot between her brows returns. "But first some tea, perhaps even food. Then we will talk."

A few minutes later, Henri has settled into a chair of the young couple's sitting space, whilst Orianna prepares the tea and Gerhard puts together a small selection of bread, cheese, and meats. The three are silent, waiting for the other to speak a thought or question, anything. Valethra has stopped trying to ask for food and has chosen a bright beam of sunlight across from Henri to sit in. She stares at him, causing rainbows to fractal in a colourful spray across the whole room.

Henri slowly leans his head to the side, watching as Valethra mirrors the movement. A small grin curls up a corner of his lips as the two watch each other.

"She's gotten big, Orianna. You must be proud."

From within the fold of his jacket, the silver of The Call glints in the rainbow light. A single thread creeps out, a silver line sniffing the air and dancing through the light to waggle in Valethra's direction.

The crystal wyrmling's pupils expand as Valethra begins to crouch down. However, a quick word spoken aloud in Draconic backed by Orianna's reflective violet eyes flashing in a warning makes Valethra try to play the movement off as her stretching out. There is a small huff of disapproval as Orianna brings the tea over.

"She is still learning," comes the delayed response. The soft clink of ceramic earthenware rings behind Orianna's words as she pours Henri a cup of hot camomile tea. "There are days I wish I had more space for her. But for now… we manage."

The silver thread zips back into Henri's coat as fast as the reprimand is spoken, and he holds his hands out to receive the cup. "Thank you. You know, the manor in Waterdeep has plenty of room. I am certain that Father would be delighted." He flicks his eyes over to Gerhard, the other man's back turned over the counter. "And Hana, too."

He raises the cup, taking a small sip. "After all, what's a bit of a commute for you two?"

Orianna's lips pressed together as the corners curve down. "A manor house is not quite what I meant…" she mutters, turning back to the small kitchen, retrieving a pot of honey and a jar of sugar, which she sets down on the table upon her return.

"Ah, well, the offer stands."

Henri settles back into the chair with his cup, nodding in thanks to the honey and sugar. He lifts a single finger off the cup, and as though led by a conductor's baton, a spoon lifts off the table. It collects a small spot of honey before floating through the air as he pulls it towards his mug, the finger resigning itself to wagging in lazy circles once the spoon slips beneath the surface of the tea and begins to stir.

From the small kitchen, Gerhard emerges carrying a wooden board with their lunch on top. He places it atop the table next to the tea, before finding his own seat and sitting back with a sigh, his eyes closed.

There is a beat of silence.

Orianna softly clears her throat. "So. Today was… interesting." She looks between Gerhard and Henri, tucking her cloven feet underneath herself as she cradles her warm cup of tea. Her gaze finally settles on the grey eyed man. "Are you feeling okay? You were knocked out. I hope your head is not hurting."

"Nothing a long soak won't fix, but yes. Thank you again for helping me back to my feet. That was a nasty explosion, wasn't it." With a free hand, Henri prods at the hem of his jacket, the fabric still covered with a layer of ash. "You must remind me next time we meet Magdara that we should lure her to the Frostfell."

Henri shrugs, returning his attention back to Orianna. "And you're alright, as well?"

"Yes. Physically, I am. Fire does not affect me that much," she says.

Orianna raises her cup up, letting the scent of white petalled flowers drift up and coalesce around her face. Her thoughts drift back to what the Primordial Incarnate said.

"How Magdara was able to read us, what she said-" her eyes flick over to Gerhard, "I do not know where to begin with all my questions." She takes a small quick sip of tea. "What she said to you though was cruel."

Henri nods, wobbling his head back and forth as he mulls the statement over. "It's quite something, to say the least. She knew a lot about… all of us, really." Henri leans forward, selecting a slice of cured ham. "Her words to me seem tame in comparison. I am their errand boy. Pantos and Azmodan said the same." He pops the ham in his mouth, chewing slowly. "And I have fallen quite a ways," he continues, quietly.

"But she did not try to kill me on sight, Orianna," he adds, returning to a normal volume. "And I'm curious as to why that was."

"As am I. I do not know what she spoke about. A line of Heralds? What kind of Heralds? And dragons? Who is the Star Mother? Why are these beings, if they are dragons or something else or even more, enemies of the Primordials?"

Orianna stops, realising she is doing her trademark rambling questions. Embarrassed, she takes another sip of tea.

"Imi-ib, do you know anything about what Magdara was speaking of? Or what she was trying to get to?" The unasked question — Is there something you're not telling me? — nearly passes her lips but she bites it back at the last second.

Gerhard looks down, slightly disappointed and angry at himself. "I should have been more prepared, should have done better research." He slowly looks Orianna in the eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't know anything about what she means by the line of Heralds, or what they are heralding. For what she is after, again, I have no idea. But for the dragon part I only learned the basics very recently.

"It dates back to the very first war, the Dawn War. It was between the Gods and the Primordials at the start of creation, a war for control. The Primordials used the very essence of the elemental planes to create creatures under their control — the first elementals. The first of these were called the Primordial Incarnates. In response, the Gods created beings of their own — the first dragons, 9 to be exact, known as the Archwyrms. The first of the Archwryms was called the Star Mother, the Night Keeper, and the Wyrm Queen. But more commonly known as Stellarum Tenebris."

Orianna is stunned into shocked silence. She looks at Gerhard, somehow unable to breathe and yet feeling as if a hurricane is blowing through her. It is Valethra's small chirping cry coupled with her bodily bump into the tiefling's chair that snaps her out of it.

"Stellarum Tenebris. That's the name that the Platinum Lord said to me." She looks between the two men in her home searching for something she cannot find. "What happened to her, and the other eight?"

"As far as I know they are all still alive and spread across the planes. Some are rumoured to have entered into a great sleep awaiting something to wake them. Others, like Stellarum, are in the service of the Gods performing various acts in their names. I think she is in service to Selune, but I am not sure about that."

Orianna glances at Henri to see that he has leaned forward, listening intently to Gerhard's explanation. At Orianna's glance, he meets her eye, giving her a curious eye in turn. "This… Platinum Lord. Did they mention how Stellarum was related to you?"

"He called me ‘a daughter'…"

Did that mean she was some kind of descendant? What about her fathers? Is that why they left again? What about Ash-

Orianna winces at the sudden pain in her head. Valethra rests her head on her lap, looking up at Orianna in worry. Rubbing her temple just under her front horns, she says, "What I am unclear about is what purpose or part the Staircase has in all of this, and what sort of danger both of you, or even Calla, might be in."

Almost as if summoned, a neat, business-like rap on the door signal's Calla's arrival.

Orianna invites the summer eladrin in, Gerhard holding Valethra back so as not to overwhelm their latest guest in the process. It is clear to Calla that she came in at an intense part of the conversation. Whilst a fresh pot of tea is poured and everyone takes what food they want or can stomach onto simple earthenware plates, Calla is caught up on what they had discussed so far.

Settling back into her spot, Valethra puts her head back onto Orianna's lap but her eyes are trained on the half eaten food of her plate.

"We were discussing what Magdara said to each of us before Gerhard arrived," Orianna starts. She casts a sheepish glance in Calla's direction. "I think you ought to know I understood what you said to her…"

"Ah." Calla freezes for a second, her body still while her mind whirls, "I was rather hoping that would be… well. No, silly of me to expect it would… you have questions, I'd imagine?"

Orianna inclines her head a little. "Only because whoever or whatever spoke through you seemed to know Magdara. They seemed scared." Her reflective violet eyes roamed over Calla's whole person. "My interest to know, or try to understand, is only to help you, and to better prepare us all for what sort of danger today's events may have put us in."

Henri casts a confused look from Orianna to Calla. "I feel I've missed something — my Primordial is coming along, but it's hard to find the time. What did you say to her? It was certainly clear she didn't like it."

Calla holds Orianna's gaze while turning her head towards Henri. The gap in what she says, and what she knows Orianna understands, is clearly deliberate. It doesn't take much more insight to know that Calla's buying time to think.

"It turns out I know her cousin."

Henri leans back, tossing his hands in the air lightly in resignation. "Oh, well of course you do. Orianna here is a descendant of her greatest enemy, you're a friend of the family, and G and I are apparently neighbours that keep getting their toys stolen." He shakes his head. "Please tell me that her cousin is a bit more friendly?"

Orianna notices Calla's hand is buried in one of the pockets in her skirt, almost like she clutches a talisman… or something else. Instead of drawing attention to it, she merely takes a sip of her tea, leaving Calla to open up in her own time.

"He's my adopted uncle? Kind of? Honestly, I didn't expect this to be even a little bit relevant."

"In this house, it seems family is always relevant." He shakes his head slightly, his eyes closed tight in exasperation. "And not to mention that you were on your way to joining another family tree, too," he continues, inclining his chin towards Gerhard. "Which I am ever so curious about."

"I'm not sure I understand? I find the Staircase… compelling, certainly. And…" her gaze flickers over to Gerhard, "…similarly so some of those who seem native to it."

"Of course you do. How could you not?" Henri grins wolfishly at Calla, the widest he has since the events of the day. His eyes glint with excitement, the daylight reflecting off his grey irises as though filled with liquid silver. "There are many rules of the Staircase, but there is one above all. You're always allowed to leave, and walk away. But so very few do. I didn't. I won't. But the choice is always there." He raises his eyebrows in Gerhard's direction, prodding his old friend. "I'm sure deep down he hates it. But he has to make you choose. And the more you walk those steps, the harder that choice becomes. You become attached. And eventually, we all become part of it. Part of the family."

Gerhard looks over toward Henri a little angrily and then to Calla where his face changes to concern. "Henri is right. The Staircase is powered by the will who walk it, slowly sapping away at their very souls till there is nothing left and they merge fully with it. But what my dear friend leaves out is that only those chosen by the Staircase are free of this fate and become part of the Family."

At the reprimand Henri rolls his eyes and sips his tea, muttering under his breath, "I was getting to that part."

Gerhard pulls out his silver quill and gently places it slightly above the table where it slowly dances in the air. "This is the representation of my connection to the Staircase, they are unique for everyone. If you are interested in the Staircase you would need to ask for one, but again: that must be your decision."

"Yes. I am." The reply is near instant.

Orianna blinks in surprise.

There is a sigh from Gerhard, "I can't stop you, but I have already given you my warning. The next steps forward are yours alone to take."

"Okay," Calla takes a deep breath, and makes an expression like she's checking her working, "this is how I see it."

She sets her jaw as her hand leaves her skirts and places an iridescent spar of roiling blue and pink mineral on the nearest side-table. It's uncut, but achingly beautiful nonetheless. At its very core is a shadow.

"This is the heart of a Primordial Incarnate, my uncle, the creature known as the Cartographer. He's protected me for nearly a century, and is the sole reason I managed to leave home. He is, in a very real sense, my patron. He's also as close to dead and forgotten as these things can get. I have a debt there, and I plan to discharge it. Having recently discovered that his kin are somehow embroiled in the workings of the Staircase, yes, it's fair to say that I'm interested. If the conflict we've just witnessed has broader ramifications, then I'm…" she glances at Orianna, "one of the few well placed to mediate. If I'm running towards anything here, it's not just the promise of the Staircase itself, but an unusual place of leverage upon it."

She raises one narrow eyebrow, and looks over her glasses at Gerhard.

"Now, I'm very aware that I don't fully comprehend the scale of said conflict, but you've also just said that you can't stop me from being involved. Further, it seems reasonable to expect that since I'm bound to this," she gestures at the heart, "sooner or later it may well come for me anyway. So it's in my best interest to enter the arena on my own terms.

"Is that about right, or have I missed something?"

Gerhard seems to sigh and process what Calla just said. Taking a sip of tea, he then says, "To be honest your connection to one of the Incarnates could prove to be invaluable later on." He pauses a moment seemingly trying to figure out what to say.

"I've been away for a few days — well closer to a week really — on a mission for the Staircase. I was tasked with following up on a series of attempts to access and use the Staircase via magic. By being more connected to the Staircase, over the past year or so I have learnt that this is a terrible, terrible idea. The amount of magic you would need to channel is astronomical. But someone was still attempting it. With closer investigation I found traces of elemental magic under the spells. After today I have a feeling Magdara, or another one of her cousins, was attempting to access the Staircase this way.

"Something that might interest you as well — and you, my stars," he says to Orianna, "when I asked one of the other Infinite about these spells, showing them what I had found they said that this was old magic, spells meant to be lost to mortals. Thankfully, the spells were incomplete and all attempts made failed. But still. I am starting to get the feeling that we are only starting to see what is truly going on. If your patron could help that would be a great asset."

"What about Azmodan, imi-ib?" Orianna asks, leaning forward a bit. "He said he is The Scribe. Would he not be able to help find out more about who or what is going on?"

As Orianna leans forward, Calla nods and leans back, pocketing the heart. It's easy to miss her mumble something about maybe also having summoned a door one time.

Gerhard smiles. "Don't worry he is already on it, trying to figure out the root of the spells to work out where they would have come from. The spells are complex and, well, messy. It will take time. I have also asked Thrandruiel," Gerhard looks at Calla, "your friend the Watcher, if he has seen anything but unfortunately not. He will be keeping watch for future events for me though."

"You speak like you're the one giving orders, Gerhard." Henri breaks his silence hesitantly, his understanding of the status quo shaky and uneven. "All these Infinite running tasks for you, watching and investigating for you." He looks to Orianna, and back to Gerhard. "You've been Herald for what, a year? As long as I've had a Call."

Gerhard chuckles a bit. "Oh no no, I don't give orders. I just ask for help and most of the Infinite are amenable enough to lend a hand, if you ask nicely. Plus having the Matriarch as your Steward really helps to motivate a nice and timely response."

"Oh." Henri's eyebrows squeeze together in confusion before quickly relaxing as he remembers the others in the room. He leans back in his chair, doing his best to return to a laissez-faire position. "I didn't know the Matriarch was your Steward. Wasn't it the Staircase itself you spoke with, the day you gave me the Call?"

"Officially, yes, the Staircase itself is my Steward. But it's very hard to understand sometimes. Hell, it's damn near impossible in some moments, like a city full of people speaking to you all at once. The Matriarch helps me understand what it says when I need it and other stuff just in general."

"Of course. Makes sense you'd have two, big, important guy like you." Henri raises an eyebrow briefly in irritation before hiding behind his cup.

"It helps to be nice to people and ancient amorphous forces that feed on people's souls."

"Someone should tell Pantos that…" Henri mutters into his tea.

"Nah, he's just a dick."

Orianna tries not to choke on her tea. She carefully sets her cup down, folds her hands and turns her attention to Calla.

"You mumbled something about summoning a door before. Was that when you met Gerhard the first time? When you were with Dr. Haltuhr?"

Calla's been very comfortable in the background for the last few minutes, and seems almost surprised to be addressed directly.

"Um, not exactly? We'd returned from the Staircase, and although Archie and Ruthenia had it slip from their memory, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't sleep." She looks a bit guilty, and turns more towards Orianna, away from Gerhard. "You've already mentioned the compulsion of it. And when properly motivated I'm… fairly capable. Luckily I've also studied a lot of curses, so I caught myself before I'd gone too far."

There's a pause. She's not quite sure how big a deal what she's about to say should be. "Not before I'd summoned a door into my room, though."

"You have to understand, my people are bards and sorcerers and natural magicians, and I have almost none of that. My faerie fire is…" Calla's face sours, "negligible."

"It's possible I've overcompensated a little, since."

"Perhaps," Orianna says, tilting her head. "But would you think of yourself as still being motivated by those you've left behind? Who are you trying to prove right? Or wrong?"

Calla pushes her glasses up and considers the question. "There's no mileage in trying to prove anything to my family. The only way I could win that game is by being someone completely different, and then I'd have lost pretty much everything." She tilts her head to the side, and her voice is oddly cold. "I suppose what I'm trying to prove is that all the loneliness was worth it. That I can make good on a promise I've made to myself."

"What kind of promise?" Orianna asks softly.

"I'm sure you understand, there's magic in keeping some things unspoken."

This was the first, true conversation any of them were having together about The Staircase, its place in their lives, their relationships and ties to each other, what they might seek and want together and separately. For a first time this was going remarkably well, despite the layered history amongst one or two of them. Perhaps that was why upon looking intently at Calla, Orianna notices the eladrin's eyes are a particular shade of roiling blue and pink, practically identical to the Cartographer's Heart she showed before. One of them even had a shadowy line cutting across it. But her eyes also speak of something else. A hesitancy, possibly bordering on fear, of what she believes is the magic of hidden words. A promise to oneself in a clandestine moment, something secret between one's heart and one's soul. But the Staircase consumes souls, and it takes Will to navigate it. Could any promises survive such trials?

But this was only their first gathering. Not everything of the day need be overshadowed with Woe, despite what cosmic omens Orianna may have received that morning.

Orianna inclines her head in acknowledgment. "There can be. But there is also power in speaking what is in your heart. Taking what is in here," she touches her chest, "and saying it so it can be made real."

Calla rocks back in her seat a little, taking on board the tiefling's wisdom, before slotting it into a larger puzzle. She shrugs, smiles and nods, looking like she's going to say one thing before changing direction to another, "Someone said something about next steps?"

"It sounds like there's a few," Henri says, returning from quietly listening to the two speak. "If you're referring to how you continue your path on the Staircase? You will need a Call," he explains, lifting the breast of his jacket slightly to further show the silver fabric underneath. "I expect asking nicely will go a long way." With the last, he winks to Gerhard.

"Well, definitely that," and it's the first time Calla smiles actually at Gerhard, "…but also around Andromeda, Magdara, and what comes next. It took a lot of power to push back on her, and I don't want that to be for nothing."

"You're right. Which is why I intend to go to Port Ffirst and see what I can learn about these… beings imprisoned in the Void of Nothingness, and what might be found there. I hear knowledgeable folk drink tea at Gossamer Threads." Henri leans forward, conspiratorially. "If we can reach these beings before the Primordials, they'll have no choice but to give up."

"It is good that you wish to find out about these beings from the Beyond," Orianna says. "But reaching them is only one step of the process. How do we ensure Magdara and her cousins do not find them again in another universe? At another time? What do we do once we find these remains? Should we perhaps look to find help in case we are not enough?"

"Hmm." Henri leans back again, his hand on his chin. "Between Astaros, and now your Cartographer," he says, nodding in Calla's direction, "it seems there is a schism within the Primordials. Clearly some others align with Magdara, by her words. Maybe we have more allies amongst them, too?"

"We might," the tiefling concedes, tilting her head to the left. "But I would like to know, or at least understand, what happened in the past." She tilts her head to the right, eyes focusing on a middle distance, trying to see what is unseen. "We will be less likely to tread the same paths, possibly make fewer mistakes in the present, for the future."

"I still have favours with the Runaway Library if it's research we need… although that's best done with gifts in hand, and that'll take a little while for me to afford. I'm afraid I've poured all my coin into, uh, a metalwork project." Calla looks uneasy again. "I was looking for mithril, when we stumbled on the Silver Door."

Orianna's gaze weighs heavy on the young Arcanist. "If I'm being entirely honest I'm not completely sure it is mithril, but it acts… mostly… the way my notes suggest it should?"

There's a beat as Calla's gaze goes distant. "Now that I think about it, the way it reacts to my focus is… consistent, with other facts." She snaps back into the room. "The door was inside it. It's eaten nearly 200 platinum since in materials and favours, but I'm at least halfway finished."

"I'm not the expert Gerhard is," Orianna glances at him, "but it sounds like this ‘mithril' is more like the liquid silver that Calls are made of…?"

"Well not quite, it's very much still mithril just with some extra malleable properties. Though if it was left undisturbed for a few more centuries in the presence of the Staircase it would have been absorbed into it and then it would be a different story," Gerhard explains.

Orianna nods. "You should be fine then Calla." She smiles.

"What a relief. It does sound like we've got work to do, nonetheless. Call included."

"Quite." Henri claps his hands softly before rubbing his palms together and looking at the others in the room. "And once we know more about who they are and what they're after, we can end this." He cocks his head to one side, searching for a thought. "Which reminds me of something that's been bothering me. G, you told me you only ever saw Andromeda on the moon or in the Library of All Knowledge. So why her? Wouldn't she be the hardest to trap?"

Gerhard pauses to think for a moment. "Not necessarily," he says eventually. "In terms of power, Andromeda and Mister were relatively young. Neither were that high on the power scale of the other Infinite. Not to say that Andromeda couldn't have put up one hell of a fight, but it would not be like trying to trap the Matriarch or — heavens forbid — the Architect."

"The… Architect? So they- you know what, never mind." Henri shakes his head from side to side before rubbing his eyes with his palms. "There should really be a welcome reception when you receive a Call. Drinks, music, meet the family. Instead they just pop into my head for an uninvited chat." Henri lowers his hands, rolling his eyes slightly. "You'll have that to look forward to, Calla." Henri flashes a brilliant grin in her direction, underlining the jest.

There's a beat of silence, and then he claps his hands on top of his knees. "Well. Calla, at the risk of outstaying our welcome, it might be time to depart. We must leave my dear Uncle-Grandfather Gerhard and Aunt Orianna to catch up, of course." He rises to his feet, the folds of his coat flapping back to hang behind his hands, shoved into his pockets. "You heard how important it was they continue the line of the Heralds. They'll want their privacy."

His grin is devilish, and his wink at the rising pink and frustration in Gerhard's cheeks making it all the better. To Calla, though, he steps forward as if they were the only two in the room. "May I walk you out?"

"Oh! Yes, certainly!" Calla checks that she has all her things and gathers up her satchel, before thanking Orianna and Gerhard for their hospitality, the tea, and their guidance. Henri's self-possessed charm is only more evident next to Calla's relative lack of social skill.

"Our door is open to you, any time," Orianna says to both as she sees them out. To Henri she adds, "All you need do is ask."

When the door shuts behind them, the wind gutters out of Calla's sails a little. Her voice betrays a strand of fatigue, albeit tempered by a thread of enthusiastic wonder, as she asks, "Is it always like this?"