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crystal shard to his chest and moved back toward the rocky wall of the dell, searching out the most sheltered area he could find.
    Under a small overhang, huddled in a small area – where the heat of the crystal had pushed the snow away, Akar Kessell survived his first night in the Spine of the World. His bedfellow was the crystal shard, Crenshinibon, an ancient, sentient relic that had waited throughout ages uncounted for one such as he to appear in the bowl. Awakened again, it was even now pondering the methods it would use to control the weak-willed Kessell. It was a relic enchanted in the earliest days of the world, a perversion that had been lost for centuries, to the dismay of those evil lords who sought its strength.
    Crenshinibon was an enigma, a force of the darkest evil that drew its strength from the light of day. It was an instrument of destruction, a tool for scrying, a shelter and home for those who would wield it. But foremost among the powers of Crenshinibon was the strength it imparted to its possessor.
    Akar Kessell slept comfortably, unaware of what had befallen him. He knew only – and cared only – that his life was not yet at an end. He would learn the implications soon enough.
    He would come to understand that he would never again play the role of stooge to pretentious dogs like Eldulac, Dendybar the Mottled, and the others.
    He would become the Akar Kessell of his own fantasies, and all would bow before him.
    "Respect," he mumbled from within the depths of his dream, a dream that Crenshinibon was imposing upon him.
    Akar Kessell, the Tyrant of Icewind Dale.
    *****
    Kessell awakened to a dawn that he thought he would never see. The crystal shard had preserved him through the night, yet it had done much more than simply prevent him from freezing. Kessell felt strangely changed that morning. The night before, he had been concerned only with the quantity of his life, wondering how long he could merely survive.
    But now he pondered the quality of his life. Survival was no longer a question; he felt strength flowing within him.
    A white deer bounded along the rim of the bowl.
    "Venison," Kessell whispered aloud. He pointed a finger in the direction of his prey and spoke the command words of a spell, tingling with excitement as he felt the power surge through his blood. A searing white bolt shot out from his hand, felling the hart where it stood.
    "Venison," he declared, mentally lifting the animal through the air toward him without a second thought to the act, though telekinesis was a spell that hadn't even been in the considerable repertoire of Morkai the Red, Kessell's sole teacher. Though the shard would not have let him, Kessell the greedy did not stop to ponder the sudden appearance of abilities he'd felt long overdue him.
    Now he had food and warmth from the shard. Yet a wizard should have a castle, he reasoned. A place where he might practice his darkest secrets undisturbed. He looked to the shard for an answer to his dilemma and found a duplicate crystal laying next to the first.
    Instinctively, so he presumed (though, in reality, it was another subconscious suggestion from Crenshinibon that guided him) Kessell understood his role in fulfilling his own request.
    He knew the original Shard at once from the warmth and strength that it exuded, but this second one intrigued him as well, holding an impressive aura of power of its own. He took up the copy of the shard and carried it to the center of the bowl, setting it down on the deep snow.
    "Ibssum dal abdur," he mumbled without knowing why, or even what it meant.
    Kessell backed away as he felt the force within the image of the relic begin to expand. It caught the rays of the sun and drew them within its depths. The area surrounding the bowl fell into shadow as it stole the very light of day. It began to pulse with an inner, rhythmic light.
    And then it began to grow.
    It widened at the base, nearly filling the bowl, and for a while Kessell feared