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distance in front of him despite the light of the mythallar.
    After a time, the kraken leveled off, partly rolled its body, and began to wheel a slow circle. Rivalen clutched the rope, leaned over, and looked down.
    The ruins of Sakkors materialized out of the misty murk like a specter. The destruction shocked Rivalen. The inverted mountaintop upon which the flying city had stood had come to rest on its side. The position made the once-horizontal plateau into a vertical cliff. Caves in the cliff suggested the activity of creatures, but Rivalen saw no life. Perhaps whatever creatures had lived there had moved on or died.
    The sideways landing had dumped the city off the plateau. Thousands of buildings lay in a heap on the sea floor at the base of the artificial cliff. Rivalen recognized the outlines of some of the structures—the shattered dome of the temple of Kozah, the once-tall spire of Xolund’s tower. Rivalen wondered what Xolund s final thoughts might have been as his city fell into the sea. He wondered what the Source’s thoughts must have been. He shook his head and remembered a day, thousands of years earlier, when he had walked the streets of Sakkors, when he had taken counsel with Xolund himself. Sakkors had not been as grand as Shade Enclave, but it had been a beautiful city nevertheless.
    And it would be again.
    Rivalen thanked Shar for sparing Shade Enclave the fate of Sakkors. He promised her that he would resurrect the sunken city. He would bring it up from the bottom and back into the air, just as Shade Enclave had emerged from the shadows to fly again in Faeriin’s sky.
    Through the mental connection of his spell, Rivalen willed the kraken to move closer. He longed to examine the mountaintop in more detail.
    The powerful magic that had first severed the top of the mountain from its root appeared also to have preserved it nearly intact, despite the impact and the passing of years. This bade well. The Shadovar of Shade Enclave could repair a damaged mythallar, could use magic to rebuild a city in a month, but Mystra’s Denial—an edict issued by the goddess of magic in response to Karsus’s Folly, an edict that prohibited the casting of certain powerful spells once common in ancient Netheril—made it difficult and costly for even the most high to cast the spell necessary to remove the top of a mountain and use it as a base for a floating city. Mystra’s Denial meant that the empire could never be fully replicated.
    But a new Netheril could rise. The raising of Sakkors would be its harbinger.
    Rivalen decided that he had seen enough. He took the thurhn from his pocket and dropped it into the depths. It reflected the red light of the mythallar as it sank, tumbling, to the ruins. He would
    recover his coin when he recovered the city.
    He took one last look behind him, committed the ruins to memory, and commanded the kraken to surface.
    He found Brennus waiting for him, still hovering over the sea. Rivalen was still able to use his spell to fly, so he leaped off the kraken’s back and recited a minor magic that dried his clothing and gear.
    “What did you see?” Brennus asked.
    “The destruction of the city is complete,” Rivalen answered. “But the mountaintop is intact. You should see it, Brennus. The spire of Xolund’s tower is discernible, as is the temple of Kozah.”
    “Kozah. That is a name I have not heard in a long time.” Brennus smiled slightly. “But, no. I do not want to see it until it joins Shade Enclave in Faerun’s sky.”
    Rivalen nodded and smiled, feeling satisfied. The first task set to him by Shar and his father was almost complete.
    “We should inform the most high that we have been successful,” Brennus said.
    “Agreed.”
    Brennus put a hand on Rivalen’s shoulder. “And I have some thoughts about how to awaken the mythallar’s sentience.”
    ŚŠŚŚŠŚŚŠ•ŚŠŚŚŠŚ
    Days later, far removed from Sakkors and the Inner Sea, Rivalen sought his father, the Most