All at once the crevice ended. For a moment I fell through dark air, then I landed on something…

… cushiony and warm?

"Oh!" a soft voice gasped.

I couldn't see anything, just darkness. All at once two hands lifted me up. Something had captured me, had me in its clutches! But what? Some slavering beast, ready to grind me to bone meal? Then the hands turned me-gently-around. I clacked my teeth in surprise.

She was a half-elf, that much I saw right away. The fine cheekbones, the tilted brown eyes, the ever-so-slightly pointed ears were all giveaways. Clad in a patched tunic, she sat on the stone floor of a shadowy chamber, her back to the wall. I had fallen into her lap, and it occurred to me then that I couldn't have imagined a better place to crash land.

Her smooth forehead crinkled in a frown as she studied me. "Now where did this come from?" she asked aloud.

"From up there!" I said cheerily. "Thanks for breaking my fall!"

Often when I first speak to people, they react strangely. It's as if they've never met a talking skull before. All right, I'll grant you, most of them likely never have. Still, it would be nice if they would at least feign a polite hello before they flung me down and ran away screaming. However, she did neither of these things, though her tilted eyes went wide in surprise.

"You can talk!"

"Yes," I said. "A lot, in fact."

She blinked in astonishment. "I thought I was the only one alive down here."

"And you still are."

I rattled my jaw for emphasis and expected a grimace of disgust to cross her pretty face. Instead she laughed, a sound as bright as chimes.

"Well," she said, "I'm not feeling very picky at the moment. I'll take any friend I can get in this place."

Her words filled me with a warm glow I hadn't known I was still capable of.

"I'm Aliree," she went on.

"My name is Muragh," I said. "Muragh Brilstagg."

She rested me on her knee and gazed into my empty orbits. "How did you get here, Muragh?"

"It's a long story," I said. I opened my mouth to begin recounting everything that had led me to this place, from Gillar onward. However, she gently but firmly held my jaw shut.

"I'm sorry, Muragh," she said. "I'm sure it's a fascinating tale. And I wish I could hear it, really. But I'm afraid I don't have time enough." Her fingers slipped from my jawbone.

I was disappointed, of course, but pleased nonetheless at her kind apology. 'That's all right," I said. "But do you mind if I ask what you're doing here? It's surprising, I know, but there aren't a great number of beautiful half-elven maidens down here in Undermountain."

Aliree laughed again, and this time the sound was a little sad somehow. "I'm not beautiful, Muragh." She waved my protests away with a hand. "No, it doesn't matter. Only one thing does now. I've come looking for something. Maybe you've heard of it. It's a place, a place called the-"

All at once she went stiff, and I slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. She clutched the wall with rigid fingers, her eyes pressed shut. It was hard to tell in the dark, but I think she was shaking.

I whistled the word softly through my teeth. "Aliree?"

After a moment her eyes fluttered open. Her body went limp, and she slumped against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Muragh," she said, her voice weary now. "You'd think by now I would be ready for it. But it comes so suddenly, and I never am."

She spoke a quiet word, and a soft light appeared in her cupped hand. In the glow, I could see her better, and I knew that her elven blood alone was not enough to explain her pale, slender appearance. Her fine bones traced sharp lines under her skin, and shadows hovered beneath her eyes.

It's hard for skulls to sigh, but I did. "How long have you been sick, Aliree?"

She glanced at me in startlement. "How did you know?"

"Dead people can see these things."

After a moment she nodded. "It's been a year now. There's something wrong with my blood. Sometimes it turns to fire in my veins."

"Haven't you been to any healers?"

Aliree shook her head. "A healer can't help what's wrong with me. You see, I wasn't always like this. I don't mean sick. I mean like this, a half-elf."

"I don't understand, Aliree. What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "I was born a full-blooded human, Muragh."

I could only stare at her. She gazed into the blue sphere of light in her hands and spoke in a quiet voice.

"All my life, I didn't belong. I always felt so ungainly, so dull, so mundane. Then one day I saw the riding party of an elf prince on the road to Waterdeep-all of them were so graceful, so bright, so joyous. I thought if only I could be more like them, then surely I would be happy. So after that I spent all my days studying magic. I pored over musty books and moldering scrolls until finally, one day, in a forgotten codex in the library of Waterdeep, I found the right spell and cast it on myself."

I hated to speak the words, but I had to. "Something went wrong, didn't it?"

Aliree sighed. "Not at first. The spell did make me partially elven, enough to pass for a half-elf, just as I had hoped. But the spell was a complicated one. Even a master wizard would have had difficulty casting it, and I was little more than a dabbler." She pressed her eyes shut. "After a month or so, the pain began. It's been getting worse ever since. That's why I came here."

"But why?" I asked. "Why would you want to come to a place like Undermountain?"

Four small words: "The Grotto of Dreams."

I let out a whistle between my front teeth. The Grotto of Dreams. I had heard those words before. Anyone who knocked around Undermountain long enough had. Stories told of a cave deep in the ground where once the goddess Lliira, Our Lady of Joy, slept for a time, and dreamt. It was said that the stones of the grotto still recalled the power of Lliira's dreams, and that anyone who found the cave and entered would know the joy of his or her greatest dream.

For a while I had even searched for the grotto myself. My dream? That inside I might live once more. True, even if the power of the cave would work, I would never be able to leave, for it is said that once one leaves, the dream of joy ends, and one can never again reenter the grotto. But I wouldn't have minded being stuck in a cave all my life. Not if I was alive again-truly and warmly alive.

None of that mattered. I had long ago given up on finding the grotto. Just like everyone did.

"The Grotto of Dreams is a myth, Aliree," I said.

She nodded. "Yes, Muragh, it is. But it's a true one."

I didn't want to hurt her feelings by openly disagreeing. "All right," I said. "Maybe it is. But even if the grotto did exist, you wouldn't be able to get there unless you had-"

From the satchel slung over her shoulder she pulled out a brittle parchment and unrolled it. If I had had eyes, they would have bulged.

"-a map!" I finished with a shout. I bounced up and down on the floor. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "You have a map to the Grotto of Dreams, Aliree? But how?"

She brushed a frail hand over the map. "My grandfather was a priest of Lliira years ago, in the city of Elturel. In a waking dream, sent by the goddess, he drew this map of tunnels that led to the grotto. Only he had no idea where in Faerun the tunnels were located, and he died without ever finding out. Ever since I was a child, I carried this map with me. It was just an heirloom, a reminder of my grandfather. Then, just a few days ago, I overheard some men in a tavern, a place called the Yawning Portal. The men were talking about a cave beneath the city." She locked her clear eyes on my empty sockets. "A cave where dreams came true."

"Well, what are you sitting around here for?" I asked in amazement. "Why haven't you gone to the grotto?"