"A son? How? Where? He lived through the Spellplague?"
"He was born afterward. He will be born afterward, rather."
"Will? What are you saying?" I set the oars and tried to turn on my bench, but failed. "How? Cale died in-"
"Mask pushed her forward through time to save her from the Shadowstorm, and from the Spellplague. I haven't yet located her."
"Why would he do that?" I asked.
"Why indeed," Riven said.
That was not the answer I had expected. "But… aren't you him? Don't you know?"
"I am not him, Mags. I just have some of his power."
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"Men have sons. Maybe nothing. Maybe it was just something he did for Cale."
I thought not, but held my tongue.
"He told me I would be back for him," Riven said.
"Who?"
"Your father."
I tried again to turn, failed. "Back for whom? Cale?"
But the darkness lifted and Riven was gone. I have not seen him since.
I returned to the ship, used my power to cause the crew to forget that they had brought me to the Wayrock, and returned to Daerlun. Years later I bought my place, my Hell, and here I reside.
My mind still bears the scars of my time with Riven and Cale. But they are healed. Mostly. The Source floats in Sakkors' core, one of the two floating enclaves that hover over the reborn Empire of Netheril, but I no longer feel its pull. I rarely use my powers at all. My father's voice no longer troubles my sleep. Only memories trouble my mind now, not addictions and archfiends. I hope my life is worthy of the sacrifice Erevis made to save it.
I still check the dark corners of the Hell, the shadowy alleys of Daerlun, but not just for Erevis. Also for his son. When I recall Riven's words to me aboard the dinghy, I think that Erevis's story may not yet have unfolded fully. Perhaps it can be completed only through his son. Perhaps that is why Mask spared him.
Time will tell.