Thanks for all the positive feedback and sorry this chapter took so long to get done, Uni work has kept me from my writing. Hope you all enjoy this chapter while I figure out where to take the story next.

Bishop could feel the Wall getting under his skin, up through his fingernails. He had stopped screaming after what felt like an eternity when his cries had gone unanswered. He had called out to anyone to help him, even Casavir, but no help had come. The only thing that kept him from losing all grip on his sanity in his contorting prison was the memory of Linn's face.

So he existed, listening to the moans and screams of the Wall's other occupants in perpetual torment, his soul slowly being eroded, his spirit giving way to surrender and eventual dissolution. Time had no meaning in the Wall and Bishop had no conception of how long he had been there, or just how long an eternity of torment can be.

There were moments when he was manoeuvred close to the surface of the wall when he thought he could see the City of Judgement through the moss, and these were the highlights of his imprisonment. Just knowing that the outside world still existed helped.

Then suddenly, all of it stopped. He felt the Wall around him contorting savagely, the other occupants screaming louder, not knowing what was going on. Bishop could feel the Wall retreating from his person, felt his body returning to its natural form from the contorted shape the Wall had made it. Then in one motion he was expelled from the Wall.

He covered his head with his arms and curled up in a ball on the floor, terrified to look. He thought this was the end, his soul had been finally claimed by the Wall and it was all over.

He was wrong.

"Help him up" said a voice not far away and Bishop heard footsteps coming closer. Shaking with fear, he struggled against the hands that tried to move him from his foetal position. With unnatural strength however, the hands were able to force him to his knees.

Breathing sharply, Bishop felt very vulnerable, but refused to open his eyes. He could tell he was kneeling on concrete and that several figures were surrounding him on all sides.

"Open your eyes, Bishop" he heard the voice again. It was a voice that had haunted him.

Slowing his breathing, Bishop opened his eyes and took in the scene in front of him. He was surrounded by robed figures, some with swords drawn, some with ritual accessories: bowls of herbs, crystals and smoking incense sticks.

And in front of him was the robed and masked figure of Kelemvor, the Lord of the Dead.

Unable to find his voice, Bishop just took in the scene. The city looked a mess, corpses were strewn about the streets and smoke was billowing from a fire in the distance.

"A deal has been made for your soul, Bishop"

It took a moment for those words to sink in. Bishop slowly turned his head to look at the Wall behind him, unable to believe what was happening.

"You are to be sent back to the Prime Material Plane, your life restored to you. I only recommend that you do not forget your time in the Wall, Bishop, because one day you will return to my city… everyone does in the end"

Kelemvor signalled to his acolytes and they began a ritual, drawing a circle of chalk around Bishop, spreading herbs and chanting.

"You are her responsibility now" was the last thing Bishop heard as light engulfed the circle he was in.

"Who…?" he croaked in response, but it was too late. Kelemvor and the City of Judgement disappeared in a flash of brilliant, white light.

…

Bishop gasped for air, coughing and spluttering as his body shook back to life. Taking deep breaths of damp air he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It took a moment for his senses to recalibrate, his body not used to having a functioning brain in it.

After a minute or so Bishop slowed his breathing to a normal rate and found himself to be lying in a puddle in the doorway of the ruins. The passage he had been running down had collapsed but the doorway was still standing. He could hear rain falling outside and he mustered his strength to crawl up the three steps to the doorway.

Outside in the Mere, Bishop pushed himself to his knees and sat, feeling the rain on his face, breathing in the fresh air deeply. He was alive, and free of the Wall.

It only took a few minutes for his mental alacrity to return and he made his way back into the passage to see what he could salvage.

His bow was not to be found, lost in the rubble and the few arrows he had had with him were scattered across the floor. His cloak and armour had been damaged by exposure to the water and they carried an unpleasant odour that reminded Bishop of the Wall. All he was able to salvage was his skinning knife, enchanted by the waters of the well at Ember and the bulging purse of gold that Garius had given him after Crossroad keep.

Cursing, he left the collapsed passage and closed his eyes, sending out a mental probe to Karnwyr thinking his wolf companion would be able to find food for him.

But there was no reply.

Frustrated, he tried again. And again he had no response.

Suddenly, Bishop felt very alone.

"Don't move!"

Bishop froze, his eyes scanning the tree line to see who made the command. From the shadows of the trees a woman stepped forward, her black bow aimed at Bishop.

"What are you doing this deep in the mere?" she demanded. Bishop stared at her, examining her stance and composure. She was a Tiefling, her skin was pockmarked around the hairline and her eyes were a dark reddy-brown.

"Answer me!" she commanded.

"I got lost on my way to…" he thought quickly "West Harbour"

The Tiefling lowered her bow slightly.

"Are you a farmer?" she asked, still seeming unsure of the stranger.

"Trader" Bishop replied, not wanting to arouse suspicion. He was sure that secrecy was his best option until he could establish what had happened since his death. The Tiefling sighed and lowered her bow.

"You should be more careful, the Mere isn't safe"

"You're telling me" Bishop replied.

The Tiefling, Valenda, believed his story without many questions and took Bishop to a makeshift camp she had set up where her animal companion was sitting, waiting for her return. It was a badger, nestled in a ball beside a log where a small fire was battling against the spitting rain on the soggy afternoon. The two sat in silence for a while, Bishop unsure of his next move while the Tiefling busied herself with cooking food for herself and her guest.

"What happens to your badger when you die?" Bishop asked suddenly, wondering if the Tiefling might have the answers he sought.

"I suppose she would go free, make a family for herself" Valenda replied, looking up from her badger to Bishop "Why do you ask? Planning on killing me and stealing her away?" she asked with a devilish smile. Bishop was in no mood for joking.

"Just curious" he replied, returning to his thoughts. It appeared Karnwyr was gone, probably off in a nice warm den somewhere with a litter of pups. And there was Bishop, stuck in the middle of the Mere, cold and wet with a complete stranger. He didn't even know how long he had been dead.

"What day is it?" he asked.

"The twentieth of Uktar"

"Uktar?" Bishop asked before he could stop himself.

"How long did you say you had been lost in the Mere?" the Tiefling asked. Bishop shook his head and grunted.

The conversation was stunted for the rest of the afternoon into the evening. Bishop sat in silence staring at the fire while Valenda saw to the food. It was a modest meal of dried boar meat and mayhaw berries but Bishop didn't scoff at the simplicity, he just ate.

As the sun set Valenda gave up her attempts at conversation and set to preparing her bedroll. She made no effort to see that Bishop was comfortable, as he had shown her little civility and he was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice her curling up under her blanket.

The siege of Crossroad Keep had been just after Midsummer, putting his time in the Wall at five months at the least. He hadn't asked what year it was so as to avoid arousing suspicion. For all he knew a hundred years had passed and all his companions were long dead.

Once night had fallen and the fire had died, Bishop stared at the dark shape that was Valenda, frowning. He had been quiet, cold even with her. It was his defence mechanism for what was to come. If he had got her to tell him her life story, it would have made killing her much harder.

Breathing slowly, Bishop drew his knife and stepped in silence towards the slumbering woman. As he approached, she snorted in her sleep and rolled over, her face illuminated by the moonlight. Bishop stopped and looked down at her, his knuckles white on the hilt of his dagger. He would make it quick; he owed her that for the meal.

Kneeling beside her, he gently pulled down her blanket and brought the knife to within an inch of her throat. Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath and brought the blade down…

An hour later he was still sitting there, staring at her, angry at himself. The knife was lying next to the sleeping Tiefling where he had left it. He hadn't been able to kill her. He hadn't even wanted to.

The old Bishop would have killed her on sight, stripped her of her gear and left the body to rot in the Mere. But the new Bishop knew Kelemvor was watching, he knew that no crime goes unpunished in the end, and that was enough to stay his hand.

Making his decision, he got to his feet and picked up his knife. Quietly as possible, he wrapped up some dry meat for himself and left a handful of coins in exchange then set off into the Mere, heading East towards the road that cut through it which would take him North to Highcliff where he could take stock and begin to reforge his old life.