Vorenus uses prestidigitation to copy any runes that he sees on the ground or on the surface that the box lies.  His arms move rapidly as he wishes to add to the magical weave that is occuring, caught up in the excitement of the thing.  Essentially taking “rune notes” on the ground, so that he will remember them later.  “That’s it!  Ironmae, what do you see?  Are we all seeing the same thing?”  You can hear the excitement in his voice, the thought of such a clever box, he wonders if it can reveal what he could not remember before…

For Iromae:
Your prayer to Deneir and the divine guidance you seek seem to clarify your mind amidst the chaos of the visions. The mist and the figures are not random — they are fragments of memories, threads of a story half-remembered. You sense a presence within the mist that feels both familiar and foreign, as though a piece of yourself — or the group — has been waiting within. These fragments yearn for recognition, for connection, and perhaps for restoration.

The runes on the box, glowing faintly in response to the group's actions, seem to be forming a pattern — a sequence. You notice that they pulse brighter as the group interacts with the box in harmony, as if something within is waiting for your synchronized focus to fully awaken.

For Shenua:
The tightening of hands creates a tangible connection between the group, and the flickering shadows in the mist seem to stabilize slightly under this shared focus. While Shenua’s trained eye cannot discern precise mechanics from the shifting runes, she knows they are reacting to something: to magic, to willpower, to unity. The artificer's mind buzzes with curiosity and a sense of discovery. The box is a masterwork of arcane craftsmanship — likely older than the Academy itself — and its response to the group's actions indicates that their collective intent is key to unlocking its secrets.

For Diego:
The box seems almost alive under your melody, Diego. The conjuration magic hums in tandem with your song, and for a brief moment, the swirling mist within the box begins to take a more coherent shape — a figure. It is incomplete, wavering in and out of form, but it seems to react to your song and the group's combined focus. The lyrics feel like a call home, and the essence within the mist flickers as if trying to answer, though it cannot yet fully manifest.

For Vorenus:
As you cast Prestidigitation, the copied runes glow faintly on the ground, echoing the patterns on the box. These runes do not seem to be a specific spell but rather a cipher — possibly a key or a message. Your excitement grows as you notice that your copied runes react slightly to the glow of the mist, as if drawn toward it. When you ask if everyone sees the same thing, you catch glimpses of recognition in your companions' eyes, but their expressions suggest they interpret the mist differently — personalized, as if each of you sees something unique within the flickering shadows.

For the Group:
As your hands clasp tighter and the group's focus sharpens, the box responds. The mist swirls more furiously, and the glowing runes on the box begin to align themselves into a cohesive design — a circular sigil. It glows with radiant energy, casting the courtyard in an ethereal light that the priests of Oghma, now aware of the strange occurrence, glance toward with growing unease.

Jossryn, returning from his earlier task, pauses at the courtyard's edge, his eyes widening as he takes in the glowing mist and the rising hum of magic. His earlier uncertainty has been replaced with clear alarm. He steps forward cautiously, his voice urgent but not yet panicked: "What ... what is this? What have you brought into our temple?"

A few other priests begin to approach, their curiosity and apprehension evident. The glowing sigil on the box pulses one final time, and the mist seems to coalesce into a faint, incomplete figure within the circle — hovering, waiting, as if seeking the next step in its journey.

The figure within the mist is indistinct but profoundly evocative, stirring emotions and fragmented memories in those who behold it. Its form is humanoid, but its features are shadowy and incomplete, like a half-remembered dream. Each of the four Seekers perceives the figure differently, as though it draws from their personal recollections or subconscious.

For Vorenus, the figure has an aura of wild, unpredictable magic, with faint, chaotic patterns dancing along its barely-there robes. The sight stirs something in his blood, an echo of the ancient power his father pursued.

For Iromae, the figure holds a faintly glowing quill in one hand, and its undefined face seems turned toward her in silent inquiry. The sense of a shared purpose — knowledge lost and found — sends chills through her.

For Shenua, the figure’s faintly mechanical movements suggest an artificer’s precision. There is a glimmer of turquoise light within its swirling mist, reminiscent of the color of her own hair. A sense of kinship, or perhaps challenge, emanates from it.

For Diego, the figure hums a soft, ethereal melody. Though the notes are indistinct, the rhythm resonates deeply within him, sparking fleeting, bittersweet recollections — of what, he cannot say, but it feels like a connection once cherished and now lost.

The figure’s "voice" is not a sound but an impression, rippling across the group’s minds. Its presence conveys urgency, confusion and longing. Though it does not speak words, it imparts a single thought, clear yet fragmented: "Lost … forgotten … remember."

As this impression fades, the figure begins to destabilize, the mist dispersing slightly, as if its energy is waning. It remains faintly visible within the glowing sigil, which now hums softly, as though waiting for the group to take action.

At this point, Shenua is almost entirely engulfed by the ethereal light, swirling mist, and melodic humming. She yearns to bask in its beauty, to merge with it, to lose herself completely. Yet, she hasn't reached that point where nothing else could distract her—not even Jossryn's voice. She clicks her tongue, irritated. Why is this priest interrupting them? Surely, he has better things to do than meddle with such a wondrous discovery.

But then again, isn’t it fair for Jossryn to be alarmed by what’s happening? What if this mist is merely an illusion, showing them what they want to see while hiding something harmful underneath? Shenua shifts her turquoise-over-black eyes to Jossryn, doubt flickering across her face, then back to the mechanical figure standing before her. It can’t be dangerous... can it? But what if it is? What if it hides a threat? Wasn't she taught to always be cautious? 

The artificer hesitates. She begins to extend a hand toward the figure, curious to feel the intricate mechanisms that form its body, but halts mid-movement. Her voice is quiet, almost uncertain, as she speaks aloud—though the question feels more like it’s meant for her to figure out: "Are you dangerous?” (ooc: Insight check 18)

(OOC: To speed things up, If the insight check doesn't reveal anything that makes Shenua suspicious:)

...No, this isn’t right. Jossryn isn’t right. The figure standing before her—bearing the shape and colors of Shenua’s very foundations—cannot be harmful. It doesn’t threaten, it simply yearns. For completion, to be fixed, to be mended. Shenua extends her hand further, the other holding the lockpick that serves as her arcane focus. Her voice is steady as she says, "Resarcio fractum, unitas redintegro, corpus reficio.”  With those words, her fingertips touch the figure’s heart.

(OOC: If the insight check reveals that the figure might be hiding some bad purpose)

... Shenua is suddenly washed by the feeling that something isn't right, and she halts her hand entirely. Then she looks towards her friends with a warning in her eyes. "Wait, this isn't what it seems..."

The words from Jossryn are a nagging worry at the back of Iromae's mind. 'We must keep focused on this! We're close!' she thinks.  But she's also worried about what these priests of Oghma might do. This was not really the private and secluded place they needed for this. For a moment she tried to shift her attention from unraveling the puzzle to focusing on her gathered friends. But with Vorenus casting a spell, and Shenua starting to reach for the figure, their hands are no longer linked. 

Finally unable to ignore the words outside, she speaks without pulling her gaze from what is happening with the figure. "Jossryn, it is just a message we are trying to decipher. There is no danger."  She just hopes that what she's saying is true.

Attention back to what is happening, she hopes to regain her focus. "Should we write down what we seek?" she whispers, asking both herself and the figure that seems to be looking to her for answers.  Pausing to see what happens with the others actions, she considers finding her own quill. 'Perhaps I could copy this sigil like Vorenus had made a copy.' 

Vorenus has the picture of excitement on his face, he really ignores Jossryn, excited about the figure that becomes visible.  He looks over to Shenua, feels some slight guilt almost as if he’s copying her paper years ago, gives a quick glance then nodding feeling that she has the right idea, he tries some of the same.  He pours his next portion of magic into the glimmering figure, hoping to fix what may be broken, somehow combine the runes, reactivate and reenergize the magic inside the box that seems to be fading.  Any doubts or fears of what may happen shoved to the side, he pours mending into the box similar to Shenua, but without hesitation, without fear that this might be the wrong move.  He holds the images of the runes in his mind, he searches for the forgotten, hoping to remember….

”Just a little more, my friends, don’t’… stop….now….just…a…little…bit…longer…..”

Diego feeling lost, he's been here before, so close to the answers he's looked for for so long and the disappointment that always seems to follow. Steeling himself, not this time, he whispers. His voice seemingly taking a life of it's own as he cast Prestidigitation causing a chorus of voices to join his, casting again the musical hum from the box takes on life as it raises to meet his voice, subconsciously the scent of vanilla can be smelled as he cast it a third time.  

In the silence of night, I hear your whisper,
A phantom touch, a memory’s tender kiss.
Though you’re gone, your presence lingers,
In the spaces between heartbeats, I reminisce.
The moon waxes and wanes, marking time’s passage,
Yet hope burns eternal, a flame unquenched.
I dream of your return, a future’s promise...

He opens his eyes, looking pass the box to Iromae and finishes his song, In the tapestry of stars, our love’s thread is etched...

Iromae is a bit surprised when Diego passes the box to her. She's already trying to find meaning in the words of the song he chose to sing. Although obviously it alludes to someone that is missing.  'Is there more to what he's saying?' 

She does quickly pull out her calligraphy quill, an ink pot, and a clean piece of paper from her bag.  Quickly and precisely, she tries to reproduce the glowing runs which comprise the circular sigil. 'At the very least it will be something to study later,' she muses. Once done she contemplates whether there might be other runs she should write down as well. 

The scene unfolds with a mesmerizing blend of urgency and discovery. As each member of the group contributes their unique energy — whether through magic, craft, or song — the glowing figure at the heart of the mist grows clearer, more substantial. Its form pulses faintly, synchronized with the melodies and the fragments of emotion weaving through the courtyard.

Shenua's Connection

When her hand finally touches the heart of the figure, a faint ripple of light flows outward. The mechanical being responds as though understanding her words: "Restore what is broken, reunite what is torn, repair the whole.” The lockpick in her other hand resonates faintly, as if acknowledging its role in the restoration. The figure doesn’t speak but tilts its head slightly in her direction — a movement filled with anticipation.

The words echo in her mind like a distant memory: "Rebuild not just the pieces, but the purpose. The heart of creation lies in unison." She realizes that the figure is waiting for the group to complete something together.

Vorenus' Enthusiasm

Vorenus, working feverishly with his prestidigitation and mending spells, feels a similar resonance. The runes he’s captured flicker in the mist as though momentarily alive. The threads of magic respond to his efforts, but it’s not enough on its own. The box and the figure are not broken in the mundane sense — they are incomplete. His efforts are a piece of the puzzle, aligning with the rest.

Diego's Song

Diego’s haunting melody merges with the box’s hum, amplifying it until the courtyard itself feels alive with the sound. The scent of vanilla mingles with the faint mist, grounding the scene in warmth and familiarity. His song’s conclusion, gazing toward Iromae, feels less like an ending and more like an invocation — a thread tied between past and present, calling something home.

The glowing figure reacts subtly, its movements becoming more deliberate, more human. Its gaze sweeps toward Diego, as though recognizing the bard’s contribution to whatever transformation is taking place.

Iromae's Precision

As Iromae works to copy the glowing sigil, she feels the quill pulse faintly in her hand, as if the act of recording the runes is itself part of the spell. Her careful strokes replicate the shape perfectly, though the symbols seem to shimmer and shift on the paper as if alive. The figure’s head turns slightly toward her as well, drawn by her focus and dedication.

Her whispered question, "Should we write down what we seek?" lingers in the air, unanswered but potent. Her connection to Deneir stirs within her, a faint sense of alignment with the purpose of this moment.

With everyone’s energies converging, the figure straightens, its movements taking on a fluidity that suggests a blend of mechanism and life. Its voice finally resonates — soft and melodic, yet metallic.

"You are fragments of a greater whole, as I am. Together, we may restore what was lost."

It extends a hand toward the group, palm open and glowing faintly, waiting for someone to take it. The mist around the figure begins to coalesce into faint, swirling images of the past — scenes of construction, collaboration and loss. One image lingers longer than the rest: five figures standing together before an archway of impossible complexity, their faces blurred by the mist.

As the priest of Oghma returns with a mixture of nervousness and annoyance, he halts a few steps from the glowing mist, clearly unsure whether to interrupt. The light reflects in his wide eyes as he tries to parse what he’s witnessing. He mutters something under his breath, likely a prayer to his deity, and waits for a moment to interject.

This time Iromae isn't distracted by the priest of Oghma.  She feels the strings that bind her to Deneir and the alignment there. 'Yes, this is right. We need to restore what was lost!'  There is a knot in her chest, as she is nervous about making a move, but knows what should happen.  Taking her quill into her off-hand, she reaches her other hand out to take that of the figure in the mist. "Please, help us remember," she whispers. 

Vorenus has a picture of excitement and intensity on his face, their location and everything in the background drowning out to a dull hum.  He reaches forward, similar to Ironmae, reaching his arm in to help pull this person out of the … portal?  To here among them.  With his other hand, in a hurry he casts message, targeting the illusory 5th person hovering in the mist before them.  “Come out of there, to here, join us!  We need your help, help me to remember, connect to my mind!”  He focuses and opens another channel of communication, hoping to hear any instructions or ways to move this most interesting process forward…

As their combined efforts bring the figure into sharper shape, straightening its form and igniting a spark of life that had been missing up to now, Shenua’s sense of wonder transforms into quiet happiness—a feeling of achievement and unison, just as the figure had suggested. “The heart of creation lies in unison.”  It was a line the tiefling wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Shenua glances at the others, her eyes now relaxed and free of doubt. She notices a flicker of guilt in Vorenus’s expression and wonders what weighs on the wizard’s mind. Then her gaze shifts to Diego, catching his look toward Iromae, and the surprise reflected in the half-elf’s face. Shenua isn’t surprised herself, and tilts her head slightly at them, curiosity in her eyes as she contemplates where that might lead.

But she lets those thoughts fade when Iromae reaches for the figure’s hand. Without hesitation, Shenua follows, placing her hand gently over Iromae’s. It is a gesture meant to convey quiet support—not just for the cleric, but for the mysterious figure they’ve all worked together to bring to life as well. Then, Shenua focuses on the scene that lingers longer than the rest: the five figures, and the complex archway. What does that fifth figure look like? Why did they forget them?

come home, that which was lost has now been found, Diego's hand follows Shenua's, landing on top of hers as she grasp Iromae's, he glances toward, now old friend, take our hands.

The glowing figure’s outstretched hand seems to pulse slightly as each of the companions reaches forward, one by one, until their hands form a connected chain. Iromae’s quill still glimmers faintly in her off-hand, a testament to the words and memories being woven into this moment. Vorenus’s urgent whispers through the spell of Message cause a subtle reaction — the misty fifth figure in the background turns its head, as though hearing his call.

As their hands connect, the figure's light intensifies. Its head inclines slightly toward Iromae at her whispered plea, “Please, help us remember.” Shenua’s hand atop Iromae’s adds a steadying warmth, while Diego’s touch completes the link, his melodic words lingering in the air like a promise fulfilled. The figure, now more vibrant and detailed, gazes at them, its expression a blend of gratitude and determination.

In response to Vorenus’s Message, the fifth figure within the mist shifts forward slightly, its form less defined than the one before them but no longer entirely obscured. Though its features remain indistinct, a flicker of recognition — like a memory just out of reach — passes through the group as they gaze upon it.

The figure standing before them speaks again, its voice resonating through their connection: "You have reached across the veil to awaken what was forgotten. The thread that binds us strengthens."

It pauses, raising its free hand toward the mist where the blurred fifth figure waits. As if pulled by an invisible force, the fifth figure begins to take on more clarity. Its features remain obscured, but its presence grows tangible, and the air around the group thickens with emotion — longing, regret, and hope interwoven.

The swirling images of the archway grow sharper, more vivid. The five figures depicted in the vision seem almost alive now, though the mist still obscures their identities. Each one mirrors a color of light associated with a companion in the group: Iromae’s golden glow, Shenua’s turquoise shimmer, Vorenus’s pale silver, Diego’s warm amber — and now a deep crimson radiates faintly from the fifth.

Suddenly, the archway’s complexity becomes clearer. Runes line its edges, some matching those copied by Vorenus, while others are entirely new. At the apex of the arch, a radiant gem-like shape pulses faintly, missing one critical piece at its center.

The figure speaks again, its voice resonant: "To remember is to restore. To restore is to become whole. Will you rebuild what was lost?"

Its glowing hand gestures toward the misty archway. As it does, the quill in Iromae’s off-hand pulses, the lockpick in Shenua’s hand vibrates gently, and Diego’s lute hums softly in harmony. Each of these objects, tied to the individuals and their memories, seems to resonate with the arch’s missing piece.

From the edge of the courtyard, Jossryn takes a hesitant step forward. His voice wavers with a mix of awe and alarm: "What … what are you doing? That … that is not natural magic. It could be dangerous!"

But his voice is distant to the group, barely cutting through the deepening connection they share with the figure and the vision before them.

Jossryn's words hover just at the back of Iromae's mind.  It pulls at her but still does not pull her away from what is happening right in front of her.  

'Restore. Rebuild.'  The half-elf woman mulls over the words in her mind. She's not sure how long she ponders it; the time is likely shorter than she imagined. The quill finally draws her attention.  She hates to do it, but... she quickly slips out her hand which is joined with the others, taking the calligraphy pen.  She then replaces her off-hand to join the others' hands, placing it atop whatever hand she finds first. 

As a calligrapher, she knows that often the letters and symbols she makes do not come from her intellect.  There is memory within her muscles - the movement and flow of writing. Studying the now clearer image of that arch, she focuses on the pulsing, gem-like shape. Reaching out with the quill, she attempts to let her intuition take over and fill in the piece that was missing. 

"We have to work together," she says softly to the others. "Putting back what is missing." 

Vorenus looks at the pattern and the archway, looking for something that is missing.  He pulls out his wand and points at it, having forgot it in the excitement.  He continues casting mending to help, focusing his wand on the area, looking for any piece that is missing through the mist..  "I feel like we are so close...." 

When Iromae removes her hand to grab her quill, Shenua finds her own hand now directly touching the figure’s, and she takes this chance to offer the figure a comforting squeeze. Then, she tries to focus on the gem-like shape, her mind racing with questions. If her lockpick has reacted to it, and Iromae’s quill seemed to as well —perhaps that’s why the cleric repositioned herself to wield it more effectively? — does that mean that the gem-like shape belongs to an object that is directly linked to that fifth figure? Could it be their arcane focus? And what of the deep crimson hue? Shenua searches through her memories, trying to find a connection to that color. Was it related to physical feature of the fifth person, as the turquoise suggests her own hair and eyes? Or could it signify the school of magic they favored? She had always associated crimson with Evocation magic — perhaps because it reminded her of fire.

Shenua’s train of thought was interrupted when Jossryn addressed them once again. She disliked interruptions when she was deeply focused, especially when they were so close to finding a solution. Even so, she made an effort to keep the irritation from her voice and responded, "I don’t think it’s dangerous, Jossryn. We believe this ritual will help us save someone we lost — someone who’s been stripped from our memories for some reason. Please, help us bring that person back.”  As she says this, an idea strikes her, and she turns to Iromae. “Iromae, what if you try to identify that gem-like shape? It might help us remember.” If the cleric agrees, the tiefling looks back at Jossryn. "The pearl! Can you have someone bring it to Iromae?"

Focusing on the vision again, Shenua has another idea. It’s a long shot, and she’s not sure it will work, but since trial and error is the essence of discovery, she prefers to try and fail rather than not trying at all. With this in mind, she points the lockpick toward the image of the arch and the five figures, then mutters, "...fiat lux." At her command, a single dot of light appears at the tip of the lockpick, that moves toward the arch and the figures. As it nears them, the dot bursts into a myriad of even tinier lights, each one seeking to attach itself to the shapes of the figures and the arch, attempting to outline their forms and — hopefully — make them clearer for all of them to see.

Diego, continuing to hum along with the box, casting prestidigitation to create a gemstone that looks like it may fit in the missing space, with colors of gold, turquoise, silver, amber and crimson in it. He stretches, reaching to the figure with the gem, help us remember that which was forgotten, help us restore that which was broken...

The group’s combined efforts — the quill in Iromae’s hand, Vorenus’s mending spell, Shenua’s faerie fire, and Diego’s conjured gemstone — create a symphony of action that resonates with the glowing figure and the archway. Jossryn’s voice fades into the background as the companions push forward, driven by their shared determination to uncover the truth.

Iromae’s movements with the quill feel almost automatic, guided more by muscle memory than conscious thought. The lines and curves of the missing rune flow from her hand as if etched into her very being, filling the gap in the radiant gem-like shape atop the arch. The rune glows golden as it settles into place, sending a pulse of energy through the entire structure.

The lockpick in Shenua’s hand responds with a faint vibration, as though acknowledging its role in this unfolding moment. When her spell takes effect, tiny lights outline the arch and the five figures in the mist. The shimmering lights bring clarity: The fifth figure grows more distinct, its form almost complete. The deep crimson hue now radiates from a cloak it wears, trimmed with a pattern of intricate runes. The archway glows brighter, revealing that it is not merely an image but a partially materialized structure tied to the mist and the companions’ efforts.

Diego’s conjured gemstone, infused with the colors tied to each of them, resonates with the glowing figure. As he reaches forward, the figure accepts the gem with a reverence that mirrors Diego’s heartfelt words. The gem pulses, and the figure turns to the archway, placing the gem into the newly completed rune at its apex.

Vorenus’s mending spell works in tandem with Iromae’s rune creation and Shenua’s faerie fire, stabilizing the energy flow around the arch and the figure. His whispered plea through Message seems to connect with the fifth figure, whose head turns slightly in acknowledgment.

In his mind, Vorenus hears a faint voice — a fragment of something lost: "You were the thread that held us together. Do not forget again ..."

As the gemstone locks into place, the archway surges with power. The mist dissipates, leaving the five figures etched in the glowing surface of the arch. The fifth figure steps forward, fully revealed:

A tall figure cloaked in deep crimson, their face adorned with faint scars and eyes glowing with arcane light. Their expression is both weary and relieved, as though they’ve waited eons for this moment. They look at each of the companions in turn, their voice strong yet tinged with emotion: "You did not abandon me. You could not. For you are my foundation, and I am yours. Together, we are whole."

Jossryn stumbles backward, his voice cracking: "This ... this is beyond mortal understanding! What are you unleashing here?"

But his protests are drowned out by the surge of light from the archway, which begins to solidify into a material structure. The fifth figure steps fully into their world, the weight of forgotten memories pressing on each companion’s mind.

The archway now stands firm, a door to something greater yet unknown. The fifth figure, now among them, turns and asks, "Will you walk with me through this doorway? To restore what was broken, and to face the truth of what lies beyond?"

Iromae smiles as the figure in the mist is finally revealed. She doesn't hesitate. "Of course! Of course we will walk with you. How could we do otherwise?"  She stands, ready to go as she glances at the others. 

Shenua takes a deep breath. She wasn't entirely sure her spell would help, but when the figure finally emerges, a wave of relief washes over her. She looks at the person standing before her, studying their features intently, tyring to engrave them into her memory with the intention of never forgetting them again. 

Quote from DirtyDogP >>

What are you unleashing here?"

The artificer's eyes are fixed in the crimson cloaked figure, and the archway looming behind them. She barely glances at Jossryn when she answers, "We are about to figure that out".

Quote from DirtyDogP >>

 "Will you walk with me through this doorway?"

To this, the tiefling nods with certainty. "Yes, yes we will. Lead the way, please."