Syndra of the Silver Void

My parents were Sinaht and Rubarae, proud astral elves whom many looked up to. My mother, Rubarae, was a gifted healer while my father, Sinaht, was a studied philosopher, his gaze always fixated on the stars. Always.

My father would often read me stories of the gods and their influence across the universe. You could say, he became obsessed with the very concept of existence—significance and purpose. The three of us lived together in the Silver Void for decades to be closer to the gods, thinking back, we were there for nearly a century. In all that time, my father’s thirst for knowledge about our place in the cosmos grew until it was a thirst no book or scroll could ever satisfy again.

My father had poured over every piece of written history he could find that might explain our presence in the universe and our place in its order. Eventually, as some radical believers do, my father formed a small cult of followers who were also entranced by this need for answers—answers they had no right to know.

My father's cult decided they would offer themselves to one god in particular. A god whose touch can be felt across the multiverse. A god whose heart no longer beats, his immortality granting him an eternity of experience and knowledge over all things. A god of dark, untold secrets.

The cult offered themselves to The Whispered One, Vecna. Trading their sanity and their very lives for access to Vecna’s wisdom, their souls were corrupted. They are now cursed, undead slaves to Vecna, a god of death who so graciously accepted their offer of eternal servitude.

But I escaped such a fate. I jumped planes before He could enter my mind. My parents accepted Vecna willingly—I saw what would happen if I followed suit. I refused his "grace."

I summoned whatever willpower I could muster to conjure a plane shift spell. My mother had given me a small gem when I was a child from what I used to call her “bag of tricks”, a bottomless pouch filled with concoctions, potions and all manner of useful magical relics from her research. The gem was see-through to the naked eye, but once turned thrice in hand, it would glow a soft, but powerful glow of red. Once the color change occurred, all you had to do was guide it. Like a quill, one could draw a line in midair. This motion would sever the wall between the Silver Void and Feywild. My mother used to say the scarlet gem would let one world bleed into the next.

The cut could never stretch very far, could not hold itself open for long and once drawn, would extinguish the gem’s power. The gem was given to me for exactly this reason. To be used just once, to save me from death if something in the void ever threatened my life.

At the sight of my parents’ metamorphosis from living to undead, I turned the gem and drew the line before my thoughts could catch up. The last thing I saw before slipping through was my mother’s eyes, bleeding and bursting from their sockets as they watched the tear between worlds close shut behind me.

I eventually returned to terrestrial life, abandoning the Feywild. They reminded me too much of my parents. I kept the gem safe, its power gone, but I had fashioned it into a necklace I wear at all times. I became an explorer, at peace in the woods and weary of people. I was determined to reverse what had happened to my parents, and was losing hope of ever finding a path again. I spoke with wise men, elders, any leads I could find. I learned languages of the people and creatures I met, hoping to communicate with each one of them and somehow convey my questions. I visited ancient cities and prayed in their temples, hoping to feel any presence but the dark shadow of Vecna reaching out from across the universe.

Even now, I can feel His influence ever so slightly pull at the back of my mind. Whether it’s him or my parents calling me home, I have no idea.

In case he, or they, ever came for me, I prepared myself. With the knowledge I had acquired from my mother, the healer, I learned to create poisons so subtle, detection was impossible before death. With the skills I had learned from my father, the strongest being in my world and the forever thinker, I learned to read people, fight the right battles and create a weapon of my own.

Time in the forest required a bow. A proper bow for hunting, and a proper weapon for an elf of the Astral Plane. It took time, but I eventually crafted my bow: Light Bringer. It’s the strangest thing, but when I pull it back, I swear I can feel the bowstring humming with energy. And maybe it’s a trick of the light, but every once in a while when I loose an arrow, its tip glows a faint red before firing towards its target. My magic hasn’t been the same since I cut ties with the Feywild and the Silver Void. But when I use my bow, I can feel that power. Waiting.

Despite my ability to fit into the terrestrial world, my isolation and despair were starting to swallow me whole. I had exhausted every resource I knew of in finding a cure for my parents’ terrible curse. I didn’t even know whether they were alive or dead. I couldn’t remember our family name, or what the color of their eyes were. All I knew was I was alone, and even if they were still out there, they probably didn’t even remember who I was.

My luck changed when I met the Gentleman Caller.

Despite my wish to avoid most people, I did learn people paid very well for doing what they believe to be impossible. Kill a brute who’d robbed them and left them for dead? Sure. Torture information from a trafficker? Easy. Protect someone else’s daughter? That one hit home.

This Gentleman Caller told me he would not pay in gold. Rather, he would teleport me somewhere he knew would have the answers I seek. Needless to say, I agreed.

I don’t know what to expect in Barovia. It is a strange land this man said may hold the answers and peace I seek. All I know is if I locate and protect his daughter Arabelle, I might someday see my parents again.