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Chapter Text

“Again!”

The royal guard tensed, sweat dripping from their brows as they counted, “1… 2…," and crashed the battering ram against the great, ornate doors of the temple once more. The thunder of it, the violence inflicted on the artistry and sanctity of these sacred grounds for the first time in centuries, briefly drowned out the horrific wails coming from within.

One of the men prayed to the gods above for deliverance, while another could not speak at all between the chattering of his teeth, but all of them stood firm. They would not flee. They would face their sacred duty with a bravery befitting their station, and cleanse the rot from their temple.

“Again!” came the shout from behind them, and with one more heavy crash, the beautiful image of the night sky and the watching moon split open, along with the heavy bar on the other side, and they were able to push through the doors.

Those who held the ram finally dropped it and allowed themselves a moment to catch their breaths and steel their nerves, as the others moved past them, the captain at their head.

Resplendent in her silvered armor, she marched forward, dauntless even in the face of the unknown horrors screeching out from the darkness ahead. And her loyal soldiers followed after, terrified but unwilling to back down.

They had never seen the halls of the Temple of the Moon so dark, every sconce empty and the white stone of the floor painted red when they lit torches of their own. The poor priests…

But as they drew deeper into the grounds, it became clear that at least one source of light remained: the great brazier at the heart of the sanctum, raised high above the floors where their force still marched. The shadows that danced on the ceiling from its light were… wrong though. Evil. What manner of devilry had been summoned to desecrate this holy place?

The demoniac cries built to a crescendo as they mounted the stairs, and just as they crested high enough to see what monsters awaited them…!

Silence.

All that stood in the temple sanctum was a burning brazier, a handful of masked figures in the midst of prayer, and an old man standing over the altar with a dagger and a black book in either hand, a body wrapped in white cloth on the stone before him. His sunken eyes turned to them in shock, and he muttered, “What have you done?”

“Ketheric Thorm!” the captain thundered, a rage none of them had ever heard from her lacing every word. “For your crimes against man and god, you are sentenced to death! To murder! To destruction! A thousand times over! And I will see it done!”

The blasphemous worshippers leapt to their feet, drawing weapons, and charged like howling jackals, but the guard were ready to meet them. The captain pushed past them all, her khopesh almost casually dispatching the only one fool enough to try to get between her and Thorm.

“You don't understand!” he called, stowing the book and dagger to lift the heavy scepter of his station as a weapon. A holy relic of the Moonmaiden. “She–”

“Is gone!” the captain snarled in return. “Because of you! Because you had to control her, to bind her, to keep her from me!”

He struck out with the scepter, but she caught it with her blade. Once more! Twice! They exchanged bitter blows, but only briefly before the once high priest realized his followers had already been destroyed and he stood alone before the might of the royal guard who once had been his allies. Desperately, he tossed the scepter at them and tried to pull the dagger from his belt once more and draw it to his own throat, but his arm was caught before it could do more than nick the skin. Then the weapon was wrenched away, and he was forced to his knees.

The captain grabbed him by the chin, her furious face close enough to see the golden runes across her skin, even behind her helm. “There will be no easy death for you,” she hissed, turning his head roughly to look up through an opening high above them in the vaulted roof. He could see the night sky, with its twinkling stars and constellations, and just a sliver of the silver moon at its edge. “Look upon her light, killer, defiler. For it is the last of it you shall ever see, until your lesson is good and truly learned. Perhaps in a thousand years, or a thousand thousand. And until then, well, we shall just have to see if there is any way to give you all the time you need.”

But he had already stopped listening. Staring out that window, he could hear nothing, see nothing but the top of the tower of his own creation. A monument to the god who had given him nothing and taken everything. It was the second greatest thing he had ever helped to make, and now it was all that would remain to be his legacy in this world…

A thunderous explosion rocked the soldiers nearly from their feet, and with a shout, they scattered in all directions to avoid the great, stone tower collapsing down around them. The dust of it was a blinding cloud, and the sun beat down on their heads with almost as much fury as the heavy bricks.

“Form ranks!” someone in an officer's uniform called, and those who were still able found their way to his side, forming rifle lines behind a toppled pillar.

“Aim!” he called again, and each soldier sighted the line of charging cavalry as best they could between the dust and sun and warping heat haze.

“Fire!”

The desert wind was drowned out by the noise of shot and screams and an order to ready and do it all again.

Roughly, two young soldiers were grabbed by their collars and pulled back from the line. A sergeant stood before them, and a senior one by her uniform, though they were not of her unit. “We need a secure position to fall back to!” she shouted to be heard over the din of battle. “And that damned falling tower just blocked our bloody door!”

She threw a look of disgust at the thing, as if it had done this to her on purpose somehow. “Find us another entrance to that temple!”

And then she was gone, rushing off to shout orders at someone else. The two privates turned shocked looks to one another, then without a word they spun and ran back toward the ancient structure half-buried in the sand.

“I don't suppose you know where to start looking for a backdoor in a place like this?” asked one, a taller, broader man.

The other shook her head, the sounds of battle growing slowly more distant. “If the smaller towers mark the perimeter, that narrows things down, but…” Not enough.

“Higher ground,” he suggested, and the pair of them began to climb a tall dune for a better vantage point, one nearly tripping at the top over something solid just beneath the sand.

Moving over to get a better look, she realized that they now stood on the shoulders of a massive statue, almost entirely buried, of a woman with hands outstretched in offering. Though her head was completely missing.

The sound of a gunshot, much closer than the others, rang out, and she ducked behind the dune, looking up to see that a small group of enemies had seemingly slipped past their lines unnoticed. Three more shots followed, and she returned fire, hissing at her compatriot, “Come on! This way!”

Clearly outnumbered, they both slid haphazardly down the backside of the statue and ran around a mostly intact wall just as another shot hit the stone of it, far too close for comfort. The way ahead of them was a veritable obstacle course of broken masonry, which would provide useful cover but significantly slow their escape.

Finally, after two more near-misses, they turned a corner and found themselves at a dead end, with no time to find another path. So standing their ground, they held their weapons firm and prepared to face whatever came around the corner.

Only… a thin rumble sounded from beneath them, and before they could react, they were tumbling through open air and then slamming down hard onto carved stone far below. Both groaned and struggled to regain breath, but the sound of voices above forced them to scramble out of the patch of sunlight and into the dark beyond.

Silhouetted figures appeared overhead briefly, but after a quick exchange of words, they all fled once more.

“Are you still alive?” one of the soldiers asked from the dark.

“For now,” came the slow reply, pained but determined. “We still need to find a door.”

“Hold on." There was silence for a moment, then shuffling, followed by the strike of a match and suddenly a makeshift torch came alight, illuminating only a small portion of this massive chamber that had likely seen no guests in hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

The soldier held up the torch, trying to get his bearings, but the room was just too large. He began to walk around, scanning the intricate carvings on the wall without really seeing them. He only wanted to find the way out.

Still, even he couldn't help but pause when they moved past an odd contraption like an ancient armillary, perhaps four feet across at its center. “What do you suppose this is?” he asked, and his partner grunted with impatience.

“None of our business.”

“Tch.” He shot her a look, then held out the torch. “Hold this.”

She grumbled a complaint but still complied, holding the light out so he could examine the strange sphere. The tiny planets and stars seemed like they ought to be unmovable after so many centuries, but when he reached out to touch them, they glided with incredible ease along its little wheels and axises. “I think there's something in the center.”

“Don't!” she warned, but he had already reached through, arm almost shoulder-deep within the thing when it let out an ominous hiss. And then, with a deep grinding and a horrible crunch, she watched in horror as he stumbled backward, screaming and spraying blood from the stump where his arm used to be.

She dropped to her knees immediately, trying to plug and put pressure on the wound, but the flow of it was just too strong, and he was already growing weak. “I… I…” he tried to speak, but shock was setting in, and within what felt like moments he was gone.

Now soaked in the poor fool's lifeblood, she stood on shaky legs and eyed the machine behind her, its galaxy in miniature also dripping lightly in the new arrangement it had shifted to by some unknown mechanism. And there right in front of it, a severed arm… still clutching a small object of the strangest design.

Chapter Text

“For centuries, these legends have served as a lesson on man’s hubris, as well as a lure for treasure hunters too prideful to learn from its story. Long before the Dales Compact and the advent of Dalereckoning, Netheril arose as an empire founded on the might of human ingenuity and, according to the tales at least, of powerful magic drawn from their divine goddess.

“Then Karsus, one of the mighty lords of Netheril, dared to believe that he could wrest control of the power of the divine and become a god himself! The ritual that would supposedly ascend him, however, was a costly and terrible one. And when he failed to prove more than a man in the end, after all that had been lost to see him rise as more? The uprising and destruction that followed spelled the end of the great kingdom of Netheril.

“But that dream? That fantastic story? From the moments after, when the spilt blood was still fresh to the present day's moss-covered or dune-buried stones, the ruins of Netheril and its secrets have drawn many to their doom.”

Underlining the final word and then setting down the chalk, Gale turned to the small crowd watching him go on, some with rapt attention and others with bored toleration. “I hope you all remember this tale well. As ever, this is exactly why learning our history is so important! So that we are not doomed to repeat it. Or this class.”

He got a few smiles and chuckles at that, which was saying something for a lesson so early on a Monday, and the smile on Gale’s face was perhaps just a little too pleased as he concluded, “Alright, now be on your way, before I think up some assignment for next week after all.”

To the sound of chairs scraping on floors and a few dozen students standing to make their way out, Gale began to gather his own papers and things as well, occasionally calling out a reminder or saying a farewell to anyone with enough energy to engage or even meet his eye. Teaching hadn't exactly been his first choice in career, admittedly, but there was something satisfying about passing on the lessons of the past to the promising minds of tomorrow!

Plus, the world of academia did seem to suit him. No bumps or bruises as he'd come home with in his few early attempts at field work, no thin bedrolls in place of plush mattresses, his entire library always to hand. Not to mention his cat!

And academia seemed to like him back. The treatise on the history of Thultanthar he published was such a smashing success (among his circles of course, not commercially or financially) that he was offered quite a generous contract to come and be a guest lecturer for a time in Baldur's Gate, of all places! Of course, he had graciously accepted, but that contract was soon coming to an end, and he would have to make a decision on whether or not to remain here, move back to Waterdeep and his old position there, or… find some other means of sustaining himself. Why he was finding it so hard to make up his mind was a mystery, even to him…

Lost in thought, Gale hardly noticed when a knock came at his door, only blinking and looking up when someone called out, “Dr. Dekarios?”

“Ah, my apologies!” he chuckled, turning to face a pair of strangers in the doorway. “My mind is like a steel trap, I always say. But the trap may need a little oiling at the hinges occasionally. How can I help you?”

One of them, a pale, handsome man with fashionably coiffed curls, laughed politely. “Of course. Sorry to disturb you in the middle of your work.” He even almost sounded genuine.

Gale shook his head and motioned them in, saying, “No, please. I have a bit of a free period before my next class, so your timing works out perfectly. What did you need?”

The man approached, seeming to consider his options for taking a seat for a moment before deciding just to remain standing rather than touch anything in the room. His suit did seem to be rather finely-made. Though Gale noticed that the woman at his side hung back, looking over Gale's notes he had yet to erase from the chalkboard. “My name is Astarion,” Gale heard him offer and turned his attention back to see that he had not offered a hand to shake along with his introduction. “I believe you might be familiar with my employer, Mr. Cazador Szarr?”

At that, Gale’s eyebrows rose quite high indeed. “I certainly am,” he answered, now less surprised by the cut of this Astarion's suit. “Quite a patron of the arts in this city, as well as the sciences and a number of other academic pursuits, if I remember it right.”

“You do,” Astarion confirmed with a flat smile.

“I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of making his acquaintance as of yet.” Gale tried to wrack his brain a moment for more information or context. “Though I have heard he might make an appearance at a gala at the museum this summer? Perhaps I'll get the chance then.”

Astarion looked doubtful, but still answered, “Perhaps.” He sighed then, dramatically. “Look, Dr. Dekarios, I'll just get to the point. Mr. Szarr has come into possession of a… funny, little trinket that he's become quite curious about. And when we went to the head of the university, we were told you were the man to speak to about uncovering its secrets. Its origins, its purpose. We're a bit in the dark, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Gale blinked, then smiled at finally gaining some understanding of the situation. Among all his other pursuits, Mr. Szarr was known to have funded a handful of archaeological digs in the past, so if there had been another recently, his curiosity was piqued to say the least. “Of course! If he'd like to make an appointment to–”

“No, that won't be necessary,” Astarion cut him off. Then waved a casual hand to the young woman across the room. “You said you're free now, didn't you?”

“I– Well, yes, but,” he stuttered, watching as she approached and calmly pulled from her bag a small object wrapped in thick cloth. She set it on Gale's desk and began to unravel this odd little mystery she'd apparently just been carrying around in her pocket.

She looked up at him from under her rather severe fringe, instructing, “Do be careful. We suspect this to be of great value, both historically and monetarily.”

But Gale barely saw or heard her, with attention only for the object she'd uncovered. His first instinct to say that it was some sort of puzzle box, an old trick for the transportation of small items or papers one didn't want to be accessed too easily. But he'd never seen one of a design quite like this. Many-sided, with the smallest gaps between each plate, and every one carved with a letter or rune of some sort that seemed familiar but not immediately translatable.

“Remarkable,” he breathed, in wonder. It was clearly of incredible age but somehow preserved almost perfectly. “Where did you find this?”

The two of them looked at one another a moment, before Astarion just shrugged and his partner answered, “It was recovered in Anauroch. But the markings…”

She trailed off, and Gale lept in to finish the thought, “Aren't quite right, and you need to know if this is a forgery.”

At her look of pleasant surprise, he smirked and tapped at his temple. “Steel. Trap.” Returning his attention to the artifact, Gale very gingerly turned it over so he could see the markings on the undersides as well. “If it is a forgery,” he conjectured, “it's a damned good one. The design and craftsmanship are certainly Anaurian, consistent with… perhaps the 12th century BDR? The lettering is new to me, but that's not necessarily a point against it. The writing system then would not have been entirely consistent, with some rather major differences between regions and dialects. Though for not a single one to be familiar…”

“So it is a fake then,” Astarion cut in, practically pouting, but Gale shook his head.

“That's not what I said.”

This time it was his turn to be pleasantly surprised, when the woman who still had yet to introduce herself offered, “You're saying they aren't letters.”

“Exactly!” he cheered, hands clenched excitedly on the back of the chair next to him. “I think these are meant to represent something other than basic lettering or common pictographs, just translated into similar enough designs to be mistaken for them.”

He watched Astarion lean in, his interest finally caught, and look at the thing. “So what are they then?”

Instead of answering, Gale pulled the artifact close, inspecting it from all sides. Some of the shapes looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place them. He tried reversing them in his mind, wondering if their meaning might be hidden behind a simple mirror trick. Alas, no luck.

Then, on a hunch, he lifted it over his head, and stared at the shapes above him, turning them this way and that in the light from his desk lamp. “A cypher for cracking some military code, perhaps? Or a formula for the elixir of a very secretive apothecary. Maybe even–”

“Stop!” he heard over his shoulder and paused. “I didn't even consider it, but if you remove the flourishes and add a tail, wouldn't that one look like the Dawn Dragon? The constellation?”

Lowering the artifact again, Gale grinned at the woman and answered, “I think you're right. In fact, I think they might all be constellations.” He sat it down on the desk again. “My lady, good sir, I believe what you have here… is a map.”

At that, Astarion began to laugh, loudly and delightedly. “Now, that is exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Oh?” Gale questioned, and Astarion quickly bundled up the artifact and allowed his partner, who for a moment Gale noticed looked quite irritated, to roughly take it from his hand.

“Oh, yes,” he confirmed happily. “My employer suspected it to contain some sort of hidden message or instruction, but a map is just as good! Perhaps better even.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You see, there is a particular site Mr. Szarr has been wanting to fund an expedition to for years, but its exact location has been lost to the sands of time…! And the sands of Anauroch.”

He motioned to his partner again, and she complained but began fishing inside her satchel once more, as Astarion continued, “He believed this little gem might be a clue to finding it, but a direct map? What a delightful surprise.”

“Happy I could help?” Gale offered, bemused.

“Yes, I'm sure you will be. Your semester ends in a couple of weeks, correct?”

“Um…”

Ignoring him, Astarion looked over some papers retrieved from the woman's bag, then set them on the desk. “As I said, Mr. Szarr desperately wants to fund this expedition, and now that we have confirmation on the usefulness of the artifact, he'll likely want to do so as soon as possible. And he would also very much like you to join us. Some of the details will need to be ironed out, of course, but this is a draft that should cover the broad strokes of what the final contract will look like. If you have any strong objections to anything within, please let us know sooner, rather than later.”

Gale had been trying to get a word in edgewise, and finally there was enough of a gap to shout, “Wait!”

Astarion gave him a smile that seemed to have far too many teeth somehow. “Yes?”

“This is all moving a little quickly, don't you think? I didn't even know about this expedition an hour ago!” He felt a bit light-headed all of a sudden.

“History waits for no man, Dr. Dekarios,” Astarion supplied. “We already have most of the crew assembled. Shadowheart here is going to be your medic, for instance, in case of any sudden illness or accident while away from the comforts of civilization.”

She offered him a tight-lipped smile. “A pleasure, I'm sure.”

“Hold on now!” he tried again, desperately. “That may well be so, but certainly a man like Cazador Szarr has a number of skilled historians and adventurers he can call upon for a task like this.” He motioned toward the bag at Shadowheart's side. “Why not send the same ones who recovered the first artifact?!”

There was an awkward silence as both Astarion and Shadowheart went still, and he noticed a look of disgust roll across her face momentarily. “I'm afraid,” Astarion answered carefully, “that isn't really an option. The artifact was not originally recovered by someone in Mr. Szarr’s employ, and only came into his possession later.”

“Oh, dear,” Gale said, frowning deeply, and the two of them gave him questioning looks. “I'm afraid that might be a problem. Your map? It's quite an intricate little device of course, but if I understand how it works correctly… it only leads the way between two very specific locations.” Shadowheart seemed to turn a little green around the gills as realization hit her. “Unless you can find out from whoever originally found it exactly where it came from, the map may prove more or less useless.”

She looked to Astarion, halfway between a plea and a glare, as she urged, “No. We can't.”

But he just rolled his eyes. “We can and we will, if that's what it takes. Or do you want out now?”

She scowled and tightened the hold she had on her bag, and the artifact within, muttering, “Fine. But you're talking to her, not me.”

“Um…” Gale cleared his throat. “Talking to who exactly?”

Chapter Text

“This is where the artifact’s discoverer is?”

Perhaps it was a mistake to bring the historian along, but he had been more stubborn about the whole thing than Shadowheart had expected. An annoyance in the moment, yet perhaps it bode well for his survivability in the field. They would need an expert of course, but bringing along a pure academic with little to no other training or experience still struck her as a liability. Astarion insisted though, passing on the desires and demands of his employer as usual, and this is where they ended up.

Back at Wyrm's Rock prison, the tall island fort jutting up like a malformed growth from the center of the River Chionthar.

Astarion was speaking with a couple of the guards, while she and Dekarios stood back, taking in the waiting room. Him with mild alarm, and her with frustration. One visit in the last two weeks was quite enough, thank you. Especially with what awaited them below.

“Not all who go delving in tombs do so legally,” she shot at Gale, caring little that he was not the actual source of her irritation. “Grave robbing is a crime for a reason.”

“Wait, the artifact is stolen?” he gasped. Literally gasped. God grant her strength.

She tried her best to control her tone, knowing they needed this man’s help, but it still came out sharper than intended when she corrected, “That's not what I said. The person we acquired it from is a convicted criminal, so it's possible but difficult to confirm, that's all. The two aren't mutually exclusive.”

Gale seemed to have more to say on the subject, but thankfully Astarion chose that moment to return, a small smirk on his face. “We've been cleared to enter and speak to our old friend. I'm sure she'll be pleased as punch to see you, darling.”

Shadowheart just scowled and made her way over to sign in at the desk and head down the stairs. The cells here were typically just for short-term stays, with more long-term prisoners being transferred on to the much larger Seatower of Balduran or to a more rural facility where they could work off their conviction with hard labor. Thankfully, special circumstances kept this particular inmate here for longer than usual, since the procedures for a meeting like this would be much more complicated anywhere else.

“You really think she's that dangerous?” Shadowheart heard a voice ask from up ahead.

She raised an eyebrow at Astarion when a second answered, “Of course she is. Zorru said he had an encounter with one of them before, and they almost took out his whole squad alone. Keep your distance.”

“What?” the first voice squeaked. “And let her starve?”

“And if she makes a grab for you? How will you–?” Suddenly they cut off with a sharp whisper, right as the three of them reached the bottom of the stairs. There were a handful of guards sitting around a table down a side corridor, but only two currently stood in the hall with the cells. One of them was blushing slightly at being caught, while the other simply stared back at Shadowheart defiantly. A tray of some unappetizing-looking meat and a sort of vegetable slop sat on a table nearby.

“Guests?” the taller of the two guards asked, and Astarion pushed ahead of her to flash him a piece of paper.

“Here to see the dangerous one,” he supplied silkily, and Shadowheart saw the other guard's blush deepen.

The one he was addressing simply nodded, after looking the pages over, and then added, “Don't take too long.”

Astarion eyed the dank, off-smelling chamber with disdain. “No worries about that.”

They walked further in, passing a handful of other occupied cells, mostly by drunks she thought. All of whom had meals, except for the last, where a woman knelt, hair wild and skin grimy but her posture perfect. Her eyes were closed, as if in prayer or meditation, but Shadowheart could practically feel her listening to their every word and movement.

“Wakey-wakey, darling,” Astarion called, but the woman did not react, other than a slightly deeper inhale. If she didn't know any better, Shadowheart would say she was trying to smell them. Even after so many days down here, her skin hadn't lost its sun-kissed olive tone, though the freckles did seem to have faded somewhat. Not that Shadowheart was paying them any mind, of course. She was just trying to get a good read on how volatile they should expect her to be.

Looking bored already, Astarion scoffed and added, “Please tell me we aren't going to have to deal with this again. It was enough trouble last time.”

The soldier in the cell just sighed, facial scars bunching as her irritation built. “If you've come to gloat, I have no interest in hearing it.”

“I hadn't,” Astarion answered, humming thoughtfully. ”But it does sound fun. Thanks for the idea.”

Finally, she stood and opened her eyes, glaring right past him to Shadowheart, obvious enough that Gale followed the gaze and looked between the two of them a couple of times in open confusion. “Shadowheart,” she said, voice husky and dry.

“Lae'zel,” she answered, venomously cordial, then looked her over. She seemed… terrible to be honest, now that Shadowheart was getting a good look. Thin and dirty, like she'd barely washed or eaten since they'd last met. How many meals had the guards refused to pass her way?

“Astarion,” Astarion cut in helpfully. “Remember me? The one who has the power to cut you a deal, not just be here for moral support?”

A few more seconds passed, and her eyes finally slid to him. “A deal?”

He smiled. “Hi there. Yes, a deal. A simple one, really. That little trinket you were brought in with. Tell us more about it, and my employer puts in a good word for you with Enver Gortash. Maybe you get out of here early on good behavior.”

“She tried to choke me through the bars last time, if you remember,” Shadowheart groused. “That's hardly good behavior.”

Astarion turned and glared at her, trying to remind her with his eyes that they needed this, and that she had agreed to shut up and let him do the talking. She took the hint and simply glared at the floor in silence, arms crossed, while he returned to an obviously fake smile and laughed, “What's a little attempted strangulation between friends? And that's what we are now, right? Old friends, who all have much to gain in this moment?”

Lae'zel stared at them a long while then, eyes calculating, before she stepped forward and touched the bars of her cell. “You're planning to go there, aren't you? The Gauntlet of Shar?”

Shadowheart and Gale both startled at that, and the poor, lost professor quietly asked, “Did she say what I think she said?”

“I'll explain later,” Shadowheart whispered, and saw he was looking at her like he damn well hoped so.

“Where I'm going is little of your business,” Astarion answered coolly, but Shadowheart could tell that he had taken a step back from the cell. And Lae'zel had seen it too.

She showed just a hint of teeth, but Shadowheart was reminded of a shark who'd smelled blood in the water. “It is if you want my help.”

“I've given you my offer,” he glowered, that cheery facade finally breaking. “An early release in exchange for information on the artifact.”

Her hands, even bone thin as they were, slid more fully, more confidently around the iron bars, and she husked, “No. But I have an offer for you. Release me and I will lead you to the Gauntlet myself. Or at least as close as I am able.”

All three of them outside the cell tried to talk at once, and Lae'zel just watched them like the cat who'd caught the canary.

“We can't trust her,” Shadowheart finally cut in above the din, but Astarion just scoffed.

“You think I don't know that? It's not like I trust you two practical strangers either.”

“Why does she know how to find the lost Gauntlet of Shar to begin with? And why do you two want her to tell you?!” Gale tried again, but they just ignored him, too busy bickering over what Lae’zel had said.

“Enough chatter,” the woman in question eventually hissed. “Get me out or leave me be. Those are your options.” Then she turned and squatted once more, seemingly returning to her meditation without a hitch.

Astarion glared at her, fists balled at his sides, but eventually said, “I make no promises. But I'll pass your message on to my employer.”

Her lips twitched just a bit, but otherwise she did not move. “Then your time with this one hasn't yet scrambled all your senses. Auspicious.”

“I think we're done here,” Shadowheart snarled, turning and tugging the other two away. As they walked, she shot Astarion a dark look. “Really? She knows your desperation is a weakness now. You can't let her take advantage.”

“She already has,” he pouted, making Shadowheart roll her eyes.

At the bottom of the stairs, she shoved the two of them ahead with a muttered, “I'll be right up. I just remembered one more question.”

Gale hesitated, but she shooed him on with a reassuring look, and he eventually complied. Astarion was already halfway up by then.

Already annoyed, Shadowheart made her way back in past the two confused guards, grabbed the slightly congealed tray of food, and dropped it roughly and not unmessily to the floor of Lae'zel’s cell. “Eat your damned food. If you starve and take what you know to the grave, I'll kill you.”

Just as Shadowheart concluded she would get no response and was about to turn away, Lae'zel said, “The protocol is clear. I must survive to get back to my unit, by any means short of treason… Even this.”

“You could say ‘thank you,’” she bit out, and Lae'zel once again nearly smiled. Or sneered.

“You may as well suggest a lion bow to worms. Should you get me out of here, the expertise I offer will suffice as thanks.”

By the time she got back upstairs, Gale and Astarion were both waiting for Shadowheart by the exit, which they readily took as soon as she approached. The sudden crowd of Wyrm's Crossing was like being tossed into a noisy sauna from the cold of the prison, and it took maybe a minute for Gale to burst out, “Alright, so is anyone going to explain to me exactly what is going on?”

“I need a drink for this,” Astarion muttered, and Shadowheart couldn't help but agree, so they detoured into a nearby taphouse and settled into an isolated booth with a bottle of wine. The place was warm and smelled faintly unpleasant, but it worked in their favor that it was less busy than the better known taverns of the city and still had a decent selection of wines available. If she had to guess, they had Vendetta Kress to thank for that, one of the better vendors for this sort of thing in Baldur's Gate.

Finally, Shadowheart waved a hand in Gale's direction, asking, “So what do you want to know?”

“Everything?” he answered helpfully, then sipped at his wine with a distracted sort of air. “Why don't you just start at the beginning?”

“Well! About 3000 years ago,” Astarion began dramatically, but Gale quickly cut him off.

“I know that part! That's the only part I know. Start with the artifact.”

“Fine,” Shadowheart sighed, realizing this was going to have to fall on her, then tried to think of the right place to start. “Lae'zel–” Astarion smirked immediately, and she shot him a glare. “She's a soldier for the Gith Foreign Legion, who've been pushing back against the movements of the Illithid Empire in the area of Anauroch for the last few years.

“I don't know exactly how she came across the artifact, but she was arrested with it, for banditry of all things, on the edge of the desert and transferred here for questioning. She says she was isolated and chased halfway across Anauroch by an unknown enemy force, then she robbed some random caravan because she was exhausted and starving. Apparently it ’says more about them than her' that they wouldn't give food to a starving foreigner without being held at gunpoint first.” She felt like rolling her eyes again but resisted, worried she'd been doing that a lot lately and it looked immature, so she just took a drink instead.

“I guess Astarion's boss has friends in high places though,” she continued, “because word got to him that a prisoner from Anauroch was brought in with a strange object covered in hieroglyphs in her belongings. So he had Astarion reach out to me, and then you–”

“And a few others,” Astarion interjected, and she gave him a small nod.

“And a few others I still have not met, to help look into it.” She scowled at the memory of the next part, scratching at the flaking, old wood of the table with a fingernail. “But first we needed the artifact itself. Only, when we got to Wyrm's Rock the first time, it had gone missing!”

“Everyone was losing their minds thinking it was lost,” Astarion laughed now, though Shadowheart remembered him being among them. Perhaps even the most panicked of all.

“But it wasn't?” Gale gathered, and Astarion nodded, kicking back in his chair and giving a vague wave in the direction they came from.

“Oh, not at all. That clever Githwoman managed to pocket it again from the Fist somehow and find a little hiding place for it behind a loose brick in the wall.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Never would've found it again if our little medic here hadn't used her feminine wiles to get the secret out of her.”

“That is not what happened!” Shadowheart snapped, touching her neck subconsciously where Lae'zel had almost grabbed her through the bars when she realized. “I was just… nice, while everybody else was panicking and screaming and making threats. Put her off her guard just enough that when I mentioned the artifact, her eyes turned to the brick for half a second.”

Gale winced sympathetically. “I think I see why you two don't get along.”

“She’s dangerous,” Shadowheart insisted, looking to Astarion. “If you really intend to suggest we bring her along, I don't know if I can do this anymore.”

He stared right back, uncharacteristically serious. “You already signed the contract, Shadowheart. That's not easy to undo… And if that's not enough, just think of the reward if this succeeds.”

“If we survive, you mean.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow in Gale’s direction, certain that she was the one who'd be pitching all the doom and gloom scenarios today. “Frightened of the curse, are we?” she teased, honestly kind of thankful for the distraction. “Worried you'll be taken by the great evil that lurks beneath the Gauntlet?”

“Frankly, I'm more interested in the vast amounts of wealth the stories say lurk beneath,” Astarion cut in, while Gale sputtered indignantly at her accusation.

“Wealth?” he finally recovered enough to ask. “I thought this was about the historical significance of the finds there? Like the other digs Mr. Szarr's funded?”

Astarion threw up his hands and groaned loudly, “You sound just like him! Yes, yes, that's our first priority. But if a few shiny baubles also happen to end up in someone's pack, who's going to miss them? Their 3000 year old owner?” He leaned in a bit and lowered his voice. “Besides, there might be one particular item he is most interested in finding, before any… competitors beat him to it.”

Gale’s eyes went wide. “The Song of Night,” he breathed in awe. Shadowheart could see that he had almost forgotten about that part of the tale, so caught up in everything else that was happening today. The Gauntlet was said to have been many things in its day, if it ever really existed. A temple, a vault, a proving ground, a mausoleum, and supposedly… a place of magic. And the Song of Night was meant to be a book containing all the “spells” and “mystic incantations” of the land’s high priests. More realistically, it was a collection of beliefs and rituals, cataloging what were typically oral traditions in that day and had mostly been lost to time in the ages since.

It was the sort of find a historian like Gale would kill to feast their eyes on, and Shadowheart could see the thoughts percolating behind his spectacles. They finished their drinks mostly in silence after that though, and with a few parting words, they began to make their separate ways.

“Gale,” Shadowheart called softly, but he paused anyway, giving her a curious look. “You said ‘we’ earlier.”

“Did I?” he blinked, apparently surprised by the news himself.

She just nodded in response. “Does that mean you're in?”

He was still for a long moment, the crowd of the Outer City streets bustling around him, before answering, “Yes, if we can get our guide, I suppose I'm in.”

Chapter Text

The Nautilus was not what Shadowheart would call an impressive vessel, but it had a unique design to it that made it stand out among the others at the pier. It had come from far to the east, or so she was told, and today it would begin making its way back in the same general direction.

“Can you believe it?” Gale wondered, eyes wide and shoulders slumped under bags bulging with… what exactly? Books, she guessed. “Finally to set out on our fantastic journey into history!”

Ugh, she could only listen to so much of this. Shadowheart hoisted her own bag a bit higher, answering snippily, “Assuming we make it past day one without our throats being slit in the night.”

“Oh, come now.” Gale gave her an admonishing look. “Is this still about Lae'zel? I don't think she's all that bad. Seemed downright eager to travel the same direction as us, and could be quite useful if things go poorly.”

She scoffed in return. “Personally, I think she's filthy. Rude. A complete scoundrel. I defer to the group’s judgment, but I won't trust her. Not until I've got the measure of her.”

“You've a sharp tongue,” cut a familiar voice from behind them. “Would that your mind proved its equal.”

Shadowheart spun, hackles raised, to see Lae'zel looking… quite different from last time. Her tattered military uniform was replaced by a practical, but well-tailored, adventuring outfit layered perfectly for travel through Anauroch, where the difference in temperature between day and night could change precipitously. Her skin was clean and flawless, her battlescars looking almost distinguished rather than brutal and frightening. Even her hair seemed to have been cut and then meticulously arranged with a number of unfamiliar but fashionable braids to keep it from her eyes in the midst of battle or some other strenuous activity.

She tried to think up a biting retort, but hesitated long enough for Astarion to interrupt as he also approached, “Cleans up nicely, doesn't she?”

“Quite!” Gale agreed easily, dropping one of his hefty bags to hold out his hand. “Lovely to see you again, Lae'zel. Smashing day to start an adventure, eh?”

Lae'zel considered the hand skeptically, but reached out and took it anyway, just a bit too firmly if Gale’s wince was anything to go by. “You have made an ally from Citadel K'liir. Few know such fortune.”

“Citadel K'liir? I've never heard of that,” Shadowheart heard Gale saying, but tuned out the rest, her attention already turning to Astarion.

“I wasn't expecting you to see us off in person,” she told him, a teasing glint coming to her eye. “Are you going to miss us, Astarion?”

He chuckled at that, picking a bit of dirt off his white, linen suit. “I might have, at that. Missing you two trying to kill each other, or wherever that goes, would be incredibly disappointing.” With a clap of his hands, two porters were summoned to carry a number of bags up the ramp onto the deck of the Nautilus. “But now I don't have to! I'm coming along.”

Well, that was a surprise to her. “Your boss must really want to see this expedition succeed,” she wagered, thinking back. “I thought you were his right hand or however you put it.”

“Yes, well, what Cazador doesn't know won't hurt him.” He affected a casual air, but Shadowheart could read the tension in his stance. “Oh, don't look at me like that! I'll come up with some excuse, and when I come back carrying his little book, it'll be much better to ask forgiveness then than permission now.”

“If you say so,” she conceded, and the four of them began to make their way onto the riverboat.

With a bit of help, Shadowheart was able to find her cabin, a tiny thing but a private one thanks to their generous patron, and took her time to settle in as the boat got moving. They weren't the only passengers headed east up the Chionthar for the next several days, but she did her best to ignore the sounds of them beyond her door as she unpacked and then lowered herself to deck in silent prayer. This trip would be a test of both her ability and her determination… and likely her patience as well, given the company she kept. And she prayed for the strength and guidance to help her stand up to all the challenges ahead.

By the time she was drawn from her solitary revery, mostly by the first pangs of hunger, the sun had already begun to set and a small crowd sat at tables on the main deck, lit by a number of oil lamps and enjoying various drinks and meals and games of chance. One woman, an employee or perhaps just a guest, even sat strumming pleasantly but unobtrusively at a guitar and humming to herself. She smiled at Shadowheart as she passed.

Toward the opposite side of the deck, Gale sat with two strangers, playing some sort of card game, and he smiled and stood when he saw her approaching. “Shadowheart! Come, join us! I'm afraid you just missed dinner, but there are many other libations to indulge in.”

He slid an extra chair up to their table and motioned to the new faces as she drew close. A handsome young man with a striking glass eye and a heavily tattooed woman bulging with muscle. Both wore winning smiles, and a few very pleasant thoughts indeed crossed her mind as Gale introduced, “Shadowheart, meet Wyll and Karlach. Karlach, Wyll, this is Shadowheart. And with that, our team is finally–” He glanced around, looking confused. “Well, I was going to say complete, but I have no idea where Lae'zel or Astarion has run off to.”

“You're the other hires he talked about,” she realized as she sat.

“That's us,” the woman, Karlach, confirmed. “Wyll here knows how to travel the area we're going better than anyone who wasn't born there, and I am very good at hurting people that try to hurt you. Also, blowing stuff up.”

“Blowing stuff up?” Shadowheart repeated, wondering if maybe she'd misheard.

But Karlach only laughed, a fire burning in her eyes. “Yeah! Only good thing I learned from my old boss, the prick. But if we need a door into some old crypt or whatever, and there isn't already? I can probably make you one without collapsing the whole place down on our heads.”

“Hopefully, that won't be necessary though,” Wyll added, giving Shadowheart and Gale reassuring looks. “We're going out to study these old ruins, not damage them. Right, Karlach?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she allowed, looking mildly disappointed, and went back to shuffling the deck of cards. “You want in?”

“What are we betting?”

“Camp chores,” Gale answered, looking put out. “If you're very bad at cards, please join us. I need to unload some of this laundry duty.”

Despite herself, Shadowheart couldn't help a small laugh. “Alright, deal me in.”

An hour later, Karlach was puffing on a cigar and looking quite pleased with herself, and between that and Gale and Wyll's twin expressions of disappointment, Shadowheart was happy to just more or less break even. They'd gotten to know each other a bit more during the game, but there was little talk of the work ahead of them, at least until another chair slid up to the table, and Lae'zel was suddenly sitting beside her.

“Once the boat arrives at the Emerald Shore,” she began without preamble. “It will perhaps be five days’ travel to where I found the artifact.”

The whiplash of the mood was palpable, and it took a moment for anyone to muster up a response. “And from there?” Gale finally asked.

Lae'zel shrugged, as if that were none of her concern. “I return to my people. And you can do as you like. Perhaps they will even help you, if I ask.”

“Or we can do literally anything else,” Shadowheart almost laughed at the absurdity. “Sticking our hands in a viper’s nest would be safer.”

Lae'zel didn't smile, but her expression turned slightly smug, like she was proud of the fact that Shadowheart might be right. “Feel free to do that instead if you want. That temple is as far as my agreement with Astarion takes you, and the rest of the path to–” She stopped, seeming to rethink mentioning the name of the Gauntlet in so public a place. “To your destination is yours to determine, doctor.”

Gale seemed a bit disappointed by that, but nodded anyway. “Of course.”

“You're right to be careful of mentioning its name,” Wyll offered, stacking his hand of cards back on the deck. “Especially once we reach the Emerald Shore. I was there quite recently, and another party had just headed out looking for the same thing. From the rumors I've heard since, they and the local guide they took with them never returned, so I imagine the folk there won't be pleased to see us if we bring it up.”

Karlach hummed, leg bouncing with pent up energy. “Might even refuse to sell us the supplies we need. Or at least mark the prices up like crazy. And I'd hate to go home empty-handed at this point.”

“As would Astarion,” Shadowheart added. “If we cost him this job by gossiping in the streets, I think he'd absolutely lose his mind.”

“I don't trust him.” Everyone turned to look to Lae'zel, and she frowned at their confused expressions. “What? He's too pale. No one who spends that little time in the sun is trustworthy.”

Karlach's laugh was hearty and loud, and it made the rest of them relax slightly. “You're too funny, Lae!” she chortled, slapping her roughly on the shoulder in a way that seemed to confuse Lae'zel too much to offend her properly.

“So,” she segued, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “I know we're here for the historical whateverness of it all.”

“And finding this lost expedition and their guide,” Wyll added, to which Karlach nodded sagely.

“And that!” She paused dramatically, looking each of them in the eyes. “But hypothetically speaking, if we did find one of the greatest treasure hoards in history… What would you do with your share of it?”

“I take it you mean aside from putting it in a museum?” Gale asked, and she confirmed by pointing at him with her cigar.

“Yeah, pretend that's not an option.”

They all took a moment to consider it. Or all except Lae'zel at least, who Shadowheart noticed wore a sour expression now, like thinking about hypothetical riches were somehow a waste of her time. Typical. “Well,” Wyll answered first, “there are a lot of people in the lands once ruled by these rich kings who are struggling today. If I could find some way to spread the wealth among them…”

“Aw, that's so sweet!” Karlach smiled at him. “And boring. Next!”

Laughing at Wyll's pitiful attempt to shove Karlach in retribution, Gale tried, “Alright then, I suppose I might use my cut to do what our dear patron does. Fund more expeditions to uncover lost history, as well as advances in science and the arts and other fields. Improve humanity and all that.”

“Good god!” Karlach groaned, slapping herself on the forehead. “Isn't there a fun bone in anyone's body here?! Shads, come on. Tell me you're a wild one at heart. Please!”

She smiled back, patting Karlach on the arm comfortingly. “Oh, of course. It's endless debauchery and indulgence for me, once I'm filthy rich.”

“If the vault even exists,” Lae'zel groused, like she had been waiting for Shadowheart to answer specifically before throwing a wet blanket over the mood once more.

Gale gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement to that though, as if it were just another interesting point in an academic debate. “Or even if the vault did exist at some point,” he conjectured, “there's no guarantee that the treasure inside is still intact today. The legends go that the entire structure was designed to, essentially, destroy itself and sink into the sands forever should enemy invaders seem close to claiming its wealth and power for their own.”

He gave them each a sober look, despite his less than sober state tonight. “Which some scholars theorize has already happened, explaining why its location has been so thoroughly lost to time. A possibility we must be prepared for when we arrive, that there is nothing left at all to find.”

“Unless the reason it's lost is because it was purposefully shunned and forgotten by some subsequent ruler who feared the ‘curse’ upon the land,” Shadowheart countered, perhaps just a bit more harshly than intended. Maybe drinking on an empty stomach was a mistake after all.

“Oooo, spooky,” Karlach joked, breaking the tension.

As most everyone settled in and prepared for another game of cards, Lae'zel stood once more, informing them she had preparations to make and walking away. Whatever the hell that meant. For a long moment, Shadowheart glared at her retreating back, but when she turned back around she found a small, cloth-wrapped bundle on the table in front of her. Unwrapping it, she saw it held a pair of now cool and slightly hard dinner rolls and a few small roasted vegetables.

“Did you…?” She looked to the others, but if it came from one of them they said nothing of it, except to confirm that it looked left over from what they were served earlier in the night. She considered tossing the mystery package overboard, but her stomach gave an angry rumble, and she decided to leave it where it was, picking at the contents slowly as the game resumed.

Chapter Text

”The dark twin of Selune, Shar was considered the embodiment of darkness, both in its physical form and as it existed in the minds and souls of mortals. Worshiped as a goddess of night, secrets, loss, and forgetfulness, she represented pains hidden but not forgotten, and vengeances carefully nurtured away from the light. She was said to have the power to make folk forget their pain or become inured to a loss, and many in distress prayed to Shar for just such a blessing.

Priests drawn to serve Shar often nurtured their own deep wounds or dark secrets, which–” Shadowheart jumped as a heavy bag slammed down onto the table in front of her, shooting a glare up at the woman who had dropped it.

“Your awareness of your surroundings is abysmal,” Lae'zel criticized, beginning to undo the buckles that held the pack closed.

“The only thing you've proven to be abysmal just now are your manners,” she bit back, yanking her book, which was half-covered by the large sack, free once again.

Buckles undone, Lae'zel opened the sturdy flap to reveal a small armory within. Pistols, rifles, a set of curved knives in various sizes, and an ungodly amount of ammunition. “Did I miss something?” Shadowheart asked, watching somewhere between horrified and fascinated as each piece was taken out and carefully arranged on the table in what seemed to be a very specific order. “Are we going into battle?”

“Almost certainly,” Lae'zel answered easily. She sat across from Shadowheart, paying her little mind, and began to meticulously inspect, clean, sharpen, and/or oil everything in sight. “The Illithid Empire may have mostly pulled back from the area for now, but there are other threats in this desert still.”

Almost a week they had been traveling now, slowly watching the landscape around them change from the deck of the Nautilus, until the bare stones and sands of Anauroch had finally shown themselves. Only a few more days now and they would reach the Emerald Shore, an isolated bend of the lush river valley where a small settlement had grown some distance from any of the larger cities or towns, and where they would make final preparations for their trip into the desert proper.

“Going to shoot a sandstorm to death, are you?” she mocked, but Lae'zel's clearly well-practiced motions didn't slow. “Where did you even get all of this?”

“Astarion. I told him what I needed back in Baldur's Gate, and in less than a day, I had it.” She held up a… something. A small tube that Shadowheart hadn't the first clue of the purpose for, but Lae'zel blew through it as if to clear out any dust inside, then asked, “What are you reading anyway?”

Shadowheart watched her for any hint of mocking, but detecting only a passing curiosity, she answered, “The War between Selune and Shar. I borrowed it from Gale. A bit dry, but it's about all the legends of conflict between the two sibling goddesses, after Selune ignited the sun and first brought light and warmth to the universe.”

“Two of the most important deities to the people of Ancient Anauroch, yes?” Lae'zel confirmed.

Well, that was a surprise. “You know your history.”

“In K'liir, I was as devoted to my studies as I was to my training,” Lae'zel informed her, with an arrogance that made Shadowheart's teeth grind together. Then she added, “You are wise to do your own research. It may be helpful in the days ahead. Especially with so fragile a scholar. He could be lost at any moment.”

Shadowheart scoffed. Sure, she had thought something very similar herself not long ago, but now that Lae'zel had said it? It seemed an incredibly stupid opinion to have.

“Even more reason that I not be interrupted,” she replied, testily, then lifted the book and began to read it once more, very pointedly ignoring Lae'zel. A message about how little her presence concerned her that Shadowheart took great efforts to communicate.

She turned a few more pages, at about the length of time she figured it ought to take to read them, but none of the words were actually sinking in. The sound of Lae'zel's work, quiet and repetitive as it was, made it a struggle to concentrate. Even when she wasn't speaking, she was an irritant Shadowheart could feel pricking at her constantly. Why everyone else was so blindly willing to trust this deranged criminal she could not understand for the life of her.

And yet, this was technically the longest they'd spent in each other's company since their first meeting… and they hadn't tried to kill one another so far. Maybe that was a kind of progress?

“So,” she tried, tone carefully neutral as she finally gave up on the book, “now that we're on the same side, is the matter of the artifact settled? Our hatchet good and buried?”

Lae'zel also paused in her work, raising an eyebrow in Shadowheart's direction. “Settled? The matter has not even begun to be addressed. Theft is paid for painfully where I come from.”

“Weren't you literally just arrested for highway robbery?”

“Out of necessity,” she explained, as if that should be obvious. “Not out of whatever greed or madness has driven you lot to seek the Gauntlet.”

Shadowheart looked around nervously, but the two of them were quite alone in a quiet, little corner of the ship somewhere near the cargo storage. “If you're so against using the map, why did you even fight so hard to keep it before?” she asked, voice low anyway just to be safe.

“Honestly?” Lae'zel lifted one of her knives and inspected the blade, the largest of them Shadowheart noted, wondering if that was a purposeful decision. “I didn't know that it was a map at all, until you told me.”

Then she began to slowly and deliberately sharpen its edge on her whetstone, making direct eye contact with Shadowheart and casually continuing, “Just that it was found in a temple dedicated to Selune, and that you are not the first reckless treasure-seekers to believe that some secret of that place would lead to the location of her sister's Gauntlet. The Aunarians who built them did value balance above most else, after all.”

“So…?” Shadowheart led, trying to look unbothered by Lae'zel's clearly threatening behavior… in this very out of the way location, where just about anything could happen unseen and unheard, and a body could easily be disposed of in the river’s dark waters and tall clusters of papyrus.

“So,” Lae'zel echoed, wiping any loose grit from the blade and setting it back with the others, “most of those amateur adventurers did not return, the latest of what is likely many lives lost in pursuit of exactly this knowledge. If I held the key to it in my hands unknowingly, it is my people who should decide whether to uncover it or bury it forever, not yours.”

“Why?” Shadowheart scoffed and leaned in challengingly. And not just because neither of them currently held a deadly weapon anymore. “Because you got there first? You do remember that there are other people who’ve lived here much, much longer, yes? Descendants of the temple’s original builders, some of whom still even follow the old faith?”

Lae'zel clicked her tongue, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed. “A people who would have fallen to the Illithid in months without Vlaakith's intervention.”

“And what? That means they should simply hand everything of value over, because you're stronger than them?”

“‘Should’ or ‘should not’ have nothing to do with it,” she said, as if she were speaking to a particularly slow and stupid child. “That is simply the reality of the world. Those who are stronger will take whatever they want from you, until you learn to be stronger still.”

“Well…” Shadowheart stood slowly, picking up the knife Lae'zel had just finished with and casually gesturing in her direction, the irritated expression the soldier suddenly wore perhaps just a little too satisfying. “If that’s the case, considering I have the map now and you don't, I guess that means I've been proven the stronger of the two of us.”

Heedless of the blade in her hand, Lae'zel stood to, just about, match Shadowheart’s height. “You? No. You are just a thief. Were you a soldier, we could perhaps settle this with strength, but…” She looked her up and down with disdain. “Well…”

“Oh please! I am not some wilting lily. Without all your weapons, I bet I could thrash a skinny, little thing like you.”

“Care to try and prove that?”

…Shadowheart suddenly became aware of just how close the two of them stood. Hadn't there been an entire table between them a moment ago? And though she clutched it tight enough to make her fingers ache just a little, she held the knife down and at her side. There was a fire in Lae'zel’s eyes, a predatory look that was almost but not quite a smile, and both of them were breathing quite heavily.

She swallowed, thickly, then pivoted and dropped the knife back on the table with the others and picked up the book instead. “You're not worth the effort,” she mumbled and began to retreat.

From over her shoulder, she heard a confused and oddly disappointed, “Are you sure?” But she ignored it and just kept walking.

The sound of the crowd on the main deck was what had driven Shadowheart to find a lonely corner of the boat to do her research in originally, when the heat of her cabin had grown stifling around midday. Now that the sun had set and the desert night’s chill was beginning to blow in, perhaps it would be best to simply retire once more.

The lower deck would be blessedly quiet, only the faintest notes of the guitar floating down every so often to disturb her walk to the cabin.

In some ways, Shadowheart was used to the constant hustle and bustle of the city. The sounds, the sights, the never-ending parade of strangers. But it had always been at a bit of a remove from the insular little world she'd grown up in, separated by sturdy fences both literal and metaphorical. Sometimes she felt like alone was the only thing she really knew how to be, even in a crowd.

Better to simply read a bit more by lamplight and then rest up for the journey ahead, privately.

Only… something was nagging her. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, making her way down the empty hall. There was nothing unusual around that she could see, and the only noises were the typical creaks and bumps of an old boat and the soft rummaging of another passenger who'd chosen to call it an early night. So why was she on edge?

Shadowheart stopped in front of her cabin door, staring at it without reaching for the knob. Was this exactly how she had left it? Was there a new smudge there, as if someone else had touched it while she was away? The cabins were quite simple after all, they didn't even have real locks. Just strong bolts that could be thrown only from the inside. Any belongings worth stealing were kept in the properly sealable cargo hold, or even in the captain’s safe if someone really preferred. So there was no reason to believe anyone would even want to enter her cabin…

Still, she reached into her satchel and clutched the solid wood of the small cudgel she always kept tucked away in there, in case of emergency. Her “life-preserver,” as an old friend had once jokingly called it. With one hand, she withdrew the simple weapon, and with the other she threw the door open fast enough to hopefully catch any intruders by surprise!

Except… the cabin was totally empty. Obviously. She stepped in and looked around, laughing ruefully at herself and her foolishness. What had she been–

Suddenly, the arm clutching the cudgel was twisted roughly behind her back, and Shadowheart felt the cold steel of a knife press lightly but insistently against her throat. A spike of fear, instant and overwhelming, made it hard for her to make sense of what was happening, even as someone whispered into her ear. The words didn't process, but the voice was both sharp and feminine, and without warning, the cold fear in her turned to a hot anger.

The knife, the argument, the talk of fighting out their problems? “Very funny, Lae'zel,” she growled, and there was even a huff of half-amused breath across the back of her neck in response. “You've made your point.”

Then a voice that was very much not Lae'zel's answered, “Clearly I have not. You seem confused, so I will repeat: Where. Is. The key?”

Shit. She swallowed, but the sudden emotional whiplash had at least brought enough clarity to follow what was being said. Even if that was nothing good. “To the safe?” she tried, hearing the confusion and hesitation in her own voice. “With the captain, I’d guess. Not a random passenger.”

Her arm painfully twisted upward just a smidge more. “Don't play dumb with me, girl,” warned the… pirate? Did robbers on rivers still count as pirates? “You know what key I mean.”

“I really don't!” Shadowheart answered, wracking her brain for understanding or escape or–

“The key!” this woman insisted. “The one you–” She was interrupted by a loud crash from outside, and Shadowheart felt the blade pull away from her neck just enough to twist free from the hold and swing out desperately with her club! It didn't hit, but her assailant was forced back out of the tiny room again to avoid the strike. Wrapped in an obscuring scarf as she was, Shadowheart only got a glimpse of intense hazel eyes, before a blur from down the hall suddenly barreled the woman over and out of sight.

There was a shout, a snarl, and a succession of wicked thuds from the direction they had rolled, and when Shadowheart dashed to the door, unsure if she was going to follow out or slam it shut and lock it, she couldn't understand why this stranger was now on the ground grappling with Lae'zel of all people, knife still in hand between them as they wrestled for control of it.

As she watched, baffled, a chorus of screaming and stomping footsteps began all around the deck above, and even a couple of gunshots rang out. Were they completely overrun?!

There was a shout from her other side of, “Silvermoon!” And Shadowheart turned to see a man in similar scarves to the woman's running toward them, though he seemed to barely have eyes for her at all with his focus on the fight happening nearby.

His mistake.

Just as he drew close, Shadowheart jumped out into his path and cracked her billy-club across his jaw, sending the man tumbling sideways through her cabin door. Glass shattered as he crashed into something inside, but before she could see what, someone grabbed her by the arm. She spun around, ready to swing again–! Only to find that it was Lae'zel, her lip split but otherwise not obviously harmed.

There was no sign of the other woman, but Lae'zel began to tug her away by the elbow. “Come on. Let's find the others.”

Chapter Text

“Where did she go?” Shadowheart panted as they ran, and Lae'zel shot her a withering look.

“Away.”

She was already angry enough at herself for letting the attacker escape and didn't need the reminder. A moment's distraction was all it had taken, eyes flicking up as Shadowheart had jumped boldly and foolishly in front of the second, charging figure almost a full head taller than her. But damned if she didn't handle him well enough on her own, unlike Lae'zel, who had let her foe roll their weight enough to slip free in that moment.

At least she'd managed to disarm the woman and avoid getting knifed for her trouble.

They reached the top deck just as that blasted musician ran past the door, another of these cowled figures just a few steps behind her, and almost on instinct, Lae'zel cleanly swept his foot out from under him and then punched the prone man solidly across the face, twice. He would live, which was a shame, but they had precious little time to waste, and a staggered foe was almost as easy to escape as a dead one.

The whole ship was a madhouse, with people panicking and running for cover as more gunshots sounded every few seconds. But that was not Lae'zel's priority.

“Where are they?” Shadowheart asked, seemingly on the same page as her for once.

Lae'zel motioned ahead. “The foredeck.” Or at least that was where she had last seen the rest of this team that just might help her get back to the Temple of the Moon alive, if they weren't all murdered or kidnapped already.

The two of them pressed forward, somehow avoiding the rest of the enemy, for the most part. Lae'zel could see no second vessel like she might expect from pirates on the open sea, but there were several hook-ended ropes attached to the boat’s railing that told her exactly how these invaders had come aboard. One of them she even cut with their own companion's stolen knife when she saw someone new was trying to use it to climb up.

There was a satisfying yelp and a splash from the darkness below.

Then she was forced to duck behind a crate as gunfire struck the deck only a foot away from them, dragging Shadowheart with her. “Here,” Lae'zel murmured, handing the blade over to her, then drawing her own pistols from their holsters at her side. She glanced back around the box briefly, but could see no shooter to fire back on. Only more storage containers.

Then a hand shot past her, pointing at the deck where the shadows, in what little light they had, flickered weakly but did indeed cast the silhouette of a figure hiding behind a stack of lashed barrels. “Right there,” Shadowheart whispered, and Lae'zel nodded before opening fire.

Unless the barrels were both very flimsy and very empty, her shots probably wouldn't pierce through to flesh, but they would keep this person pinned down long enough for them to get away. And to her credit, Shadowheart seemed to get the idea quickly, turning and running to the side of the enclosed helm with Lae'zel just behind her.

They stopped there, Lae'zel taking a moment to reload her weapons, as Shadowheart looked around the corner to see what the foredeck had in store for them. She made an odd squeaking sound though and pulled back just in time for Karlach to come roaring past them, using an entire table as a battering ram to shove two screaming pirates over the side of the deck and down into the river below.

She turned to them with a terrifying glare, but then immediately blinked and dropped it when she saw their faces. “Oh, hey guys!” she exclaimed through what was now a slightly manic grin. “Glad you could make it!”

Past her, they could see most of the passengers gathered behind a makeshift barricade of furniture, with a couple of armed crew members at their head next to Wyll, who stood holding a sword of all things in one hand and an elegant pistol of a very unique design in the other. He called reassurances to the cowering folk behind him and occasionally fired a warning shot whenever one of the attackers drew too close. A wasted mercy, in Lae'zel's opinion.

“Got a live one!” Karlach called and led the two of them back to join the crowd, Gale and Astarion among them Lae'zel saw once she was behind the barrier.

“You're alright,” Astarion breathed in relief, but Lae'zel only rolled her eyes, noticing he was looking at Shadowheart’s satchel, not at either of them.

“Your concern is truly touching,” Shadowheart commented dryly, and he finally looked up and smiled at her.

“Of course, darling. Your safety is my first concern!” He turned to the others and motioned as if they should back him up. “In fact, we were just discussing sending a search party to look for you, isn't that right?”

Wyll paused in his vigilant watch only long enough to give Astarion a skeptical look, answering, “We were discussing it, yes. I believe your exact words were: ‘And not have you between me and the men with guns and knives? Send Gale to do it.’”

“And Gale had some objections to the soundness of that strategy,” Gale cut in, smiling apologetically at Shadowheart. “In spite of his genuine concern for your safety, of course. But you're alright, yes? What happened out there?”

“We're being robbed,” Lae'zel answered plainly, having joined Wyll in keeping an eye out for threats, though no more seemed to be encroaching on their little safe zone for now.

Shadowheart scoffed. “Yes, genius. We get that. What I'm sure he meant was why, and by who?” She gave Lae'zel no time to reply though, changing course and asking, “Wyll, you know the area. Does this happen a lot?”

“No,” he answered immediately, then paused to really consider it. “I mean, it happens. But not often. We're either very unlucky or…”

“Guys,” Karlach interrupted. “Not to interrupt this important chat that I'm sure can't wait until we're not in mortal peril! But… does anybody else smell smoke?”

They all stopped then and began to sniff at the air. Perhaps all of the gunfire had masked it for any but the most experienced with the scents of smoke and its different sources, but now that they were paying attention, the smell really was noticeable. They were all silent, trying to slot this new information in with what they already knew about the situation. But then Gale for some reason leaned steeply over the railing of the ship, staring into the dark below for several seconds, before pulling back and turning to the assembled group with wide eyes.

“New development,” he declared stiffly. “The boat is on fire.”

“What?!” Shadowheart choked out, but when she and Lae'zel both moved to follow Gale’s earlier gaze, they too saw smoke and flames coming from several portholes on the side of the vessel. Well… now she understood why no one was attacking them anymore, at least. They were all busy apparently.

“These are the worst pirates I've ever encountered!” Astarion spat, sounding personally offended. “I thought they were trying to rob us. Why burn the ship with all its valuables still aboard?!”

“Maybe they already got what they came for,” Gale suggested.

“Or realized they weren't going to find it,” Lae'zel added.

“Again,” Karlach cut them off. “Very interesting theories. But we need to go.”

Wyll nodded, climbing out from behind their barricade. With the sword in his hand and his handsome, determined face, he looked like one of those dashing storybook heroes that don't exist in real life as he said, “She's right. We need to get these people into lifeboats as soon as possible.”

But Karlach hopped after and grabbed him by the shoulders desperately. “No, Wyll. You don't understand, we might not have time for that.” He stared back in confusion, and she sighed, “Remember when I said I'm good at blowing stuff up? Well, my blowing stuff up stuff is in the cargo hold.”

“It… what?” His face was an almost comical mask of horror.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!” she whined, caught halfway between apologetic and defensive. “It's all perfectly safe to transport, I promise! Just… as long as it doesn't catch on fire.”

There was a long beat of silence that followed… And then suddenly the crowd of passengers, who had heard every word of their exchange, made a mad dash for the side of the boat and began to leap off into the water! Astarion conveniently at the front of the pack.

“We'll talk about this later,” Wyll said to Karlach, and then followed over the railing, clearly not wanting to lag too far behind the others in case they needed aid.

And she looked a bit like a kicked puppy as she and Gale trailed after, a pat on the arm and a quiet, “There, there,” the last Lae'zel saw of them before they went over.

Thankfully, they weren't far from the shore, or this could have been much worse. All she needed to do was… was…

She stopped at the railing and turned around, to see Shadowheart standing stock still and staring after everyone with a stricken expression. “What are you doing?” Lae'zel hissed at her. “Let's go.”

Shadowheart blinked and looked to her, her jaw tightening in irritation but the fear not leaving her eyes. “I…” An internal battle seemed to be playing out over the next few seconds, before she finally admitted through gritted teeth, “I can't swim.”

“You can't–” Lae'zel stared at her in complete disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Why would I joke about this?” Shadowheart snapped, getting in Lae'zel's face with a knife in her hand for the second time tonight.

“To infuriate me!” she snarled back, once again making Shadowheart scoff in derision.

“Yes, you caught me, I'm going to risk being blown up on this stupid boat just to annoy you. Why don't you–”

She jumped as another gunshot went off, and the two of them looked over to see several of the scarf-wearing figures walking toward them. Behind them flames now visibly licked up the sides of the ship in places, and the one in the center, who Lae'zel thought might be the same she tussled with in the corridor earlier, pulled the bolt on her rifle, ejecting the cartridge and preparing to fire again.

“Time to learn,” Lae'zel murmured, grabbing Shadowheart roughly around the middle and fully tossing her overboard, right before she herself followed. There was a piercing shriek, a splash, and then the sensation of being plunged into deep water for the first time in ages. It was no salted sea, but still it felt just a little like coming home.

Lae'zel took a single moment to let herself feel it, to appreciate it… and then breached the surface and made to grab at the flailing body in the water next to her.

Shadowheart’s panicked hands found her as well and, desperate for anything to grab onto and pull herself up by, thoughtlessly shoved Lae'zel’s head back underwater. But she had expected this. It was the first instinct of basically anyone in Shadowheart's position, after all. Lae'zel just needed to circle around a bit and get a grip on her from behind instead.

An easy enough technique, typically, which she had practiced many times in the past… but this blasted woman would not stop grabbing at her face in the most annoying and distracting way! Finally, after getting poked in the eye for the third time, her frustration peaked, and Lae'zel bit down on Shadowheart’s hand hard enough to make her yelp and yank her arm away.

It gave Lae'zel just enough time to grab her from behind and resurface to the sound of a slightly deranged-sounding, “-is wrong with you?!”

“Be silent,” she bit out, right into Shadowheart’s ear. “And stop flailing! You're going to attract crocodiles.”

It took just a second for the words to sink in, but then Shadowheart went very still indeed. She was still as stiff as a terrified board though, and clinging to her like this, Lae'zel could feel every twitch of her limbs fighting their natural reaction to each splash or dip or movement as she slowly kicked the two of them sideways toward the shore.

Up above, in the light of the spreading flames, she could see the figures standing near the edge of the deck, one with rifle in hand but not quite sighted, as if they were still making up their minds whether or not to shoot them as they swam away. But just as that central figure seemed to come to a decision and aim the barrel down toward their retreating forms… the sound of Karlach's explosives drowned out the rest of the world.

The Nautilus didn't do anything so dramatic as detonate, or even crack in half. It just rocked fiercely, and then began to list, as the new hole blown in its side tried to drink the river dry.

Thankfully, the explosion happened on the opposite side of the boat, or Lae'zel and Shadowheart might have still been just a little too close. Even here they were quite rattled by the blast and slipped underwater briefly, to Shadowheart’s further panic, and both were fully exhausted and panting by the time they drew close enough to shore for Karlach and Wyll to help drag them the rest of the way out.

They lay there on the bank, watching the flaming wreck of the Nautilus sink below the surface of the Chionthar and were thankfully not accosted by any more scarved or hooded assailants, who probably had their own problems to deal with right about now. Lae'zel looked over at Shadowheart only a few feet away, feeling a little amused despite the exhaustion after getting to toss her around like that, and it must have shown on her face, because Shadowheart scowled weakly when she finally turned to look back at her.

She raised her hand in front of her face and turned it over once or twice. “I can't believe you actually bit me.”

Chapter Text

By the time they had made camp, even managing a small fire to warm themselves around a little, everyone was far too exhausted to talk. Gale had tried making a joke about his laundry duty being quite easy now, given that only a couple of suitcases had actually floated to shore with any dry clothing still inside, but it really fell flat, and after that people were mostly silent and just decided to get some sleep and discuss plans in the morning.

Lae'zel agreed to keep the first watch, just in case their attackers came back, but thankfully nothing of the sort happened. A few stragglers from the ship did wander in, drawn by the light of their campfire, including the bedraggled but somehow unharmed musician. Her guitar was broken beyond repair, to Lae'zel’s immense relief, but it came in handy one last time to keep the fire going a little longer.

It was a fitful night of slumber for everyone though, out in the cold with no tents and only half-dressed in borrowed clothing, and many of them huddled together for warmth. Shadowheart especially seemed restless and unhappy, Lae'zel distantly noted, as if assailed by dark dreams in the desert night.

Thankfully, in the morning Karlach informed them she had dragged a few more bags up from the reeds during her watch, and there just might be enough for everyone to have a full change of clothes if they weren't picky. And while Shadowheart looked everyone over for injuries that needed tending now that there was light enough for it, Wyll and Lae'zel managed to put together a small meal of fish and wild plants he knew to be edible. It wasn't much, split between the whole group, but it would keep them going at least.

And now both dry and fed, the chatter of what to do next began among the crowd.

“If we turn and follow the river back the way we came,” Wyll was saying, “we should reach the town of Moonhaven after just a couple of days.”

“Yes, but then what?” Astarion scoffed. “All of our supplies are gone. Our money. Everything we needed to do this damned job!”

Ugh. Even Wyll’s frown was somehow measured and patient. “The job can wait, Astarion. It has for thousands of years. We can get these people to safety and then hold out a few more weeks for your boss to send us additional funds by post.”

“Can we?” asked Lae'zel, ignoring a warning glare from Shadowheart, who was trying to apply some sort of salve to the cut on Lae'zel’s lip. “If those people from last night are still on our tail?”

Gale also frowned, but more in confusion and consideration, leaning in a bit. “Why would they still be after us? Didn't they take or destroy everything of value?”

“Not everything.” Lae'zel gave a pointed look to Shadowheart’s bag. “I think I've seen them before, or others like them at least. They wear no uniform, but… The knife.”

She said the last words like a command and held her hand out toward Shadowheart, who sneered in response, “I don't take orders from you. Now keep your mouth shut.”

“Just show us the knife.” Lae'zel sighed, crossing her arms impatiently but allowing Shadowheart to finish her work before she continued, “The way they moved, the way they fought, was familiar to me. And this symbol.”

Finally, Shadowheart drew the knife she had somehow kept all the way through their desperate swim last night, the same one that had been at her own throat not long before. She flipped it around a few times, before finally noticing a very simple marking on the bottom. Not much, just a curved line scratched lightly into the handle, and three straighter ones through the first. “This?”

Lae'zel nodded. “I've seen it before, when I was first separated from my unit and chased across the desert. The people who hunted me were skilled, relentless. They likely would have caught me, if I wasn't nearly as able a survivalist as I am a soldier.”

“And they're still after you?” Karlach asked with raised eyebrows. “You must have done something to really piss them off.”

But Lae'zel considered it slowly, before shaking her head. “No, not me. I think they were after the map I carried, though I didn't know it at the time.”

Astarion let out an appreciative hum, reasoning aloud, “If it's that important to them, they probably had spies keeping an eye out for your return in one of the towns the boat stopped in, then readied this whole thing as an ambush.” He grinned for the first time since he'd had to put on some random workman's clothing this morning. “Which just tells us this map is even more valuable than we knew!”

“She didn't call it a map though,” Shadowheart murmured, deep in thought.

“Sorry, what was that?” Astarion asked, and she blinked, looking around at all of them.

“One of the attackers spoke to me,” Shadowheart explained hesitantly. “A woman that another called… Silvermoon, I think. It was only briefly, but if it was the artifact she was after, she didn't ask me where the ‘map’ was. She called it a key.”

They were silent for a minute after that, before Gale said somberly, “Maybe there's even more to this artifact than we knew.”

Lae'zel realized he had been quiet for a while, staring intently at the symbol on the dagger. But now he was looking at Shadowheart very seriously. “You said they called this woman ‘Silvermoon.’ Are you sure about that?”

“I think so?” She didn't sound sure now that she was being asked about it, but she paused to remember back. “No, I'm almost certain that was it. Does that name mean something to you?”

He reached out and tapped at the hilt of the dagger, answering slowly, “The Order of the Silver Moon and Harp. A secretive organization of spies for the ancient kings of Anauroch, whose job was to protect the safety and sanctity of the kingdom from the shadows. If we were attacked by some distant offshoot or, more likely, a group of people who want to use that reputation to inspire fear and paranoia…”

“Then we probably shouldn't expect them to give up so easy,” Karlach offered, and Gale just nodded in response.

“So we don't give them a chance to regroup,” Lae'zel said, as if it were obvious. “We head out now, while they're still reeling from last night.”

“We're still reeling from last night!” Shadowheart countered in disbelief. “And all of our supplies are gone!”

Lae'zel just stared at her. “Yes, that's a problem. Solutions?”

She looked around a bit, before stopping on Wyll with an expectant gaze. “Um,” he managed, clearly not expecting to suddenly be on the spot like this. “Well, we need to travel Northeast from here, from what you've told me. There's… a small trading post in that direction that caravans often stop in? If we have anything to trade, we could pick up the supplies we need there.”

“And what do we have to trade?” Lae'zel asked, and everyone paused to consider the question.

Finally, one by one, they turned and stared at the beautiful, shining rings on Astarion's fingers. “No! No,” he protested vehemently. “We are not–”

Astarion pouted, looking up into the face of the camel he had just traded the last of his jewelry for, as if it were the executioner and he a man on the block.

“Cheer up, Astarion,” Lae'zel suggested, perhaps just a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Thanks to you, we've managed to secure almost all that we need.”

More or less. Out in the desert, their supplies would only be enough to last them so long, but if she and Wyll could avoid getting them lost and maybe even forage some extra along the way, they should be able to reach the Temple of the Moon without issue. Wyll and Karlach had even charmed their way into getting a passing caravan to take the rest of the boat's passengers to town nearly for free!

Nearly.

The others were gathered on the other side of the open market, going over their purchases or inspecting nearby stalls for other wares of interest. And Astarion complained the whole way back, although Lae'zel was mostly tuning him out and offering only a small grumble of acknowledgement every so often.

“Honestly,” she heard him saying, “we could have gotten half the stinking, spitting beasts for free and kept my cufflinks as well, if we’d just agreed to leave Shadowheart behind to marry that trader woman’s son, like she asked.”

Lae'zel paused, tugging lightly on the lead as the camel got distracted momentarily, and looked over to see Shadowheart standing with the rest of the mounts. Stinking and spitting they might be at times, but she looked absolutely thrilled to pet and coo at the creatures anyway. She wore new clothing too, a dark and flowing design of the native people who knew better than anyone how to keep away the worst of the sun’s scorching heat and catch every hint of a desert breeze that might cool you as you traveled the sands. Even now, it danced with every gust that blew over them, never quite enough to be in her way, but shifting and… occasionally hugging, in a way that bulkier Baldurian traveling gear did not.

“Awfully tempting, wasn't it?” Astarion asked, but Lae'zel had kind of already forgotten what he was talking about.

Shadowheart finally turned and saw the two of them approaching, her gaze almost instantly locking with Lae'zel's and her eyebrow rising as if in challenge to judge her. A proud look. Unyielding. “Awfully,” she replied.

Then everyone's attention was drawn by a loud whistle over to Karlach, drawing her fingers from her mouth to wave cheerily at them as she laughed, “C’mon, slowpokes! Let's get this show on the road!”

Chapter Text

The next few days were both familiar and a completely new experience for Lae'zel. She was back in the desert where she had spent the last few years of her life, marching with a troupe of comrades toward a clear goal. There were tasks to handle, safety to look out for, and order to maintain.

But traveling with these people was nothing like being with the Legion. Gale cracked jokes that made Lae'zel want to groan in pain, Wyll and Shadowheart traded stories about the worst novels they had ever read, Astarion tried his damnedest to get out of doing any actual work and half the time the others just let him get away with it. Even Karlach, clearly the most impressive warrior amongst them, was prone to dancing and singing to herself without warning. And not even the sort of marching songs that every soldier had at least a passing familiarity with.

She had no idea what to make of it, no context in which to put it. On the Nautilus, she had been able to keep space between them all, except when necessary, but out here there was no privacy. No barriers. They just had to… get used to one another.

And after four days of this, she wasn't sure if she was grateful or disappointed for a break in the pattern. Making his way back over a dune, Lae'zel saw Wyll return from a bit of scouting ahead. The two of them had been working closely together to find their way across the desert properly. She knew where they needed to go, but he understood how to get there efficiently and effectively to a degree that even she struggled to match.

It was how she recognized the worry on his face, in his posture, before he'd even finished approaching.

“Bodies ahead,” he said simply when he finally reached the rest of the party. “Maybe dead, maybe not. They're not buried though, so they must be fresh.”

“How many?” Lae'zel asked, the familiar clarity of a life-or-death operation finally coming back to her.

“Four.”

“It could be another ambush,” Astarion suggested, and both of them nodded in agreement.

“Wyll and I will go check it out,” Lae'zel ordered. Suggested? She wasn't entirely sure anymore. “The rest of you hang back. If there's trouble, you make it go away, Karlach.”

To which she grinned, “It's what I do best.”

Then the two of them turned and started to walk away, though they only made it a few steps before Shadowheart rushed after, calling, “Wait, I'm going with you!”

“Why would you–”

“You just said they could be hurt,” she interrupted, making Lae'zel's blood boil slightly. “And I'm the medic, remember?”

“She's not wrong,” Wyll chimed in, and with a huff, Lae'zel continued walking.

“Fine. But if it is an ambush, you bring this on yourself.”

Lae'zel really wanted to wipe the smirk off Shadowheart's face somehow, but instead she just marched, cresting the dune ahead and spotting what Wyll had. It was still a distance off, but indeed, four bodies lay in the sand, three clumped together and one much further away, like he had been left behind or maybe tried to carry on without his companions but eventually collapsed himself.

As they drew close, she could see blood soaked into the clothing and the sand beneath one of them, a short, round man with a crimson-flecked beard. He was clearly dead, but the others were harder to read. They were definitely armed though, and dressed like foreign travelers, which Lae'zel made sure to point out to Shadowheart and Wyll as they cautiously approached.

“Shot,” Shadowheart informed them quietly, looking over the body of the dead man, before moving to the nearest of the others. A slight woman who also had bloodstains on her clothing, but only on the one side.

“Not hers, I don't think.” She touched the woman's neck, looking for a pulse. “Maybe she was trying to carry the–”

The woman gasped, suddenly and loudly, and Lae'zel reached toward her pistols, but no attack seemed to follow. She just coughed and blinked stupidly in their direction. “W… water,” she managed to get out weakly, and Shadowheart quickly grabbed her own canteen and offered it up.

This stranger tried to suck the whole thing down, but Shadowheart stopped her, murmuring quietly but sternly, “Slower, or you're just going to throw it back up. And I don't have that much to go around.”

After a minute or two of slow sips the woman, who introduced herself as Remira when prompted, seemed together enough to speak, so Shadowheart asked, “What happened here?”

“Who's asking?” another voice chimed in before she could answer, and Lae'zel whipped her head around to see a very rough-looking man limping his way over with a rifle pointed in their direction.

The fourth body. Of course. She could kick herself for getting distracted, again. Why did this keep happening to her lately? Lae'zel tried to motion with her eyes for Wyll to answer, while she slowly and surreptitiously began to reach toward one of her pistols.

“Just fellow travelers,” he obliged, as calmly as he could manage with a gun pointed at him. “Out looking for knowledge and fortune in the sands, when we saw others in need. Are you hurt, friend? Can we help you?”

The man seemed to mull that over, suspicion clear in his eyes, but also desperation. “Water. And food. If you've got them, hand them over.”

“Sure,” Wyll answered easily. “All that we have to spare is yours.” He didn't move though, other than to tip his head in Shadowheart's direction. “Also, my friend here is a medic. Is it alright if she goes to check on your other man over there? He might still be alive, but we're not sure yet.”

He hesitated again, but not for quite as long. “Do it, but real slow-like. No sudden movements.”

Wyll nodded to Shadowheart, who carefully stepped away from Remira and over toward the other perhaps-living form in the sand. “My name is Wyll,” he said, slowly and very visibly reaching for the canteen on his belt and tossing it onto the sand between them. “With a ‘y.’ My father says it's a family name, but I've never been so sure about that. What's yours?”

The man looked baffled by the unnecessary information, and Lae'zel was too, briefly, before she remembered a technique she had once been taught for situations involving hostages. For many, it was said, the more they saw someone as a person with family and friends and a life to return to, the harder it was to kill them… And then, when the hostage-taker’s resolve was weakened and their guard down, they could much more easily be executed themselves.

Perhaps Wyll was a more shrewd figure than Lae'zel had given him credit for if he knew and employed such brutally effective strategies, manipulative as they may be.

“I'm the guy with the gun,” this man answered simply though, lifting the rifle in a way she assumed was meant to be menacing.

“Aradin,” Remira said quietly, and he shot her an angry look. “Leave off. You so much as blink funny, and this one's putting a bullet in you, and maybe me too. And I don't feel like dying today.”

Lae'zel realized the injured woman was looking at her, noting from her angle just how close Lae'zel’s hand had come to her weapon, and Aradin finally did as well, turning the rifle to point directly at her. “I said no sudden movements!” he shouted hoarsely, and Lae'zel couldn't help a small, fierce grin.

“Try it,” she growled. “Test your mettle.”

“Or don't,” Wyll butt in, casting a pleading look Lae'zel's way. “The water’s right there. Just put the gun down and it's all yours.”

But Aradin decided he could have his cake and eat it too apparently, stepping up with the rifle still held on her and trying to kneel and grab the canteen one-handed. It worked, mostly, but he was fumbling attempting to open the cap while still pointing the heavy weapon, and cursing softly to himself. Lae'zel could see how exhausted and heat-stricken he must be, too dehydrated to even be sweating anymore. All she needed was a…

There.

The barrel dipped, Aradin’s finger no longer right on the trigger and his eyes downcast. Lae'zel drew her pistol, aimed it right between his eyes, and– And was suddenly obscured by Wyll's back as he ran forward, barely reaching a shocked and furious Aradin in time to shove his gun down to fire into the sand instead of Wyll's chest. Then he knocked the whole thing loose from his weak grasp and decked him across the chin, sending the man sprawling.

“What was that?” Lae'zel demanded, as Wyll picked up the rifle and slung it safely onto his back.

“You almost killed him,” he defended, giving her a stern look over his shoulder. He was grabbing the canteen again, still closed thankfully, but for some stupid reason put it back in Aradin’s hand. “So I took care of it.”

“He almost killed you.” Which would have been… inconvenient for her.

But instead of arguing, Wyll just smiled as he walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “Please. He never stood a chance.”

She couldn't think of a rebuttal to that, so she just clicked her tongue and glared at Aradin, who was groaning and trying to sit up. Eventually he gave up and just lay there, finally getting the damned cap off the canteen and taking a hefty drink from it. “I told you we should've left him behind,” he coughed out weakly, looking over toward his companions as Shadowheart and Wyll now tended to them. “He was already a goner, and we'd be back in feather beds already if not for that fat, old chunk.”

“Like we left Liam?” Remira asked bitterly, seemingly unbothered by that entire display of near-murder.

“We was running, for our lives,” Aradin insisted. “Still are! We need to get moving again before those Gith shites catch up with us.”

Lae'zel took a step forward instinctively. “What did you say?”

He stopped talking though, squinting against the sun and really looking at her face for the first time. Then he spat out, “Goddammit, you're one of them, ain't you? You gonna finish us off too, like your mates did Brian?”

“Or worse,” she threatened, sick of this man already. “It looks like he got off easy. They must have been in a hurry.”

Then for some reason Wyll was grabbing her by the arm and leading her away, saying, “Lae'zel! If I could have a word…”

“What?” she asked, shaking him off after a few feet. “This fool has information on the Legion’s movements in the area. I must interrogate him, the success of our mission could depend on it.”

“Maybe you're right,” he insisted, “but this isn't the best way to get the answers you're after. Let me talk to him, you go help Shadowheart.”

“With medicine?” Her voice was tight, incredulous even, and Wyll shrugged.

“Sure. ‘Nurse Lae'zel’ has a pretty nice ring to it, don't you think?”

She had a few other choice words she thought might sound better in that instant, but instead she just glared and turned to stalk away. Wyll had proven himself adept at charming people in the past, and knowing and using your allies’ strengths to your advantage was an important skill. Even when it was deeply annoying.

Lae'zel wasn't completely uneducated when it came to treating wounds. In fact, she'd had a few of her own she needed to self-dress over the years, but that was not the same as being skilled or interested in helping now. Instead, she focused on gathering the weapons and anything else she deemed useful off of the three other members of Aradin’s team.

“I’ll be wanting those back,” Remira complained but smartly chose not to fight her on it, given the current circumstances.

Shadowheart was the bigger concern, as Lae'zel came over to dig in the pockets of the man she was currently trying to assess. He was alive, clearly, but his eyes rolled and he babbled incoherently. “Heatstroke,” she commented as Lae'zel knelt beside her. “And pretty advanced. Barring any sudden miracles, if he's going to live he'll need to be cooled down a lot, and soon.”

She had placed a wet rag over his forehead, but out in the middle of the desert heat that wouldn’t do him much good for long. The moisture was already evaporating. Tossing his pistol, a small pocket knife, and a locket with a broken chain into a pile beside him, Lae'zel balked, “And waste even more of our water supply? He's as good as dead already.”

She was right, and she could tell from her face that Shadowheart knew it. Even if they could shade him from the sun and help to cool him off somehow, there was no guarantee at this point that he would live. But instead of just admitting it, she curled her lip at Lae'zel and taunted, “What? I thought you were such an expert survivalist. You can't even find enough water to keep one man alive?”

“Of course I can,” she answered testily. Why must this woman always attempt to vex her so? “Just not at the same time as I lead you to the temple. Which would you rather I do?”

Before Shadowheart could decide on a response however, a shout came from the top of a dune nearby, and they looked up to see the rest of the party approaching. Karlach at the head, of course, waving and shouting, “Everything okay?! Thought I heard a gunshot!”

“We're fine now!” Wyll called back, tone reassuring but his expression serious when Lae'zel glanced his way. “But you should all come down and hear this!”

He kept looking at her and away again quickly, in a way that made Lae'zel suspicious in an instant. Somehow, she felt like she was walking into a potential ambush for the second time today.

Chapter Text

“We're being led into an ambush! I warned you something like this would happen.” Shadowheart couldn't believe that she was the only one who had seen this coming. That she had maybe even started to doubt it herself, just a little.

“Hold on, now,” Gale cautioned, turning once more to their bruised and sour-faced… captive? Guest? “Let's not jump to conclusions. Can you explain what you meant by that?”

Aradin glowered at him but answered, “Like I said, we come here in search of a stupid, old book called the Song of Night. A rich, posh bastard named Lorroakan hired us to find it for him and told us we'd find the way to it in a ruined temple up this way.” He spat, and it came out pinkish from the punch he'd taken earlier.

“What he didn't tell us was that the temple would be crawling with Vlaakith's entire bloody Legion.”

“Please,” Lae'zel sneered. “The Legion is vast beyond any comparison to the small force stationed here.”

“The point is,” Wyll insisted, physically stepping between the two of them again, “this is the team of explorers I heard about in the Emerald Shore. The ones that hadn't come back yet.”

“Because they walked into an ambush! Just like we’re about to, thanks to her.” Shadowheart cast a heated glare at Lae'zel, and received the same in return.

“There is no ambush,” the infuriating woman bit out, sounding more annoyed than guilty or even angry at being caught in a lie, like she should. “If they came into conflict with my people, it's because they brought it on themselves. Which you will not, because I will be with you.”

Gale was holding his glasses in one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose as he asked, “If it's that simple, why didn't you just tell us we'd be running into so many soldiers at the temple then?”

“You didn't ask,” Lae'zel answered simply, and Shadowheart could have screamed or maybe strangled her in that moment, if she wasn't actively trying to keep a man– Barth, his allies had called him –from dying. Karlach had of course insisted on using some of her own water to cool him down, claiming she'd almost overheated into an early grave once or twice herself and wouldn't wish that fate on anyone. She was even pitching her tent a short distance away so they could hide him from the sun for a while. A heart of almost unbelievable kindness had Karlach.

And then there was Lae'zel, scowling bitterly and explaining, “I told you that I would lead you to the Temple of Selune and that I would then be rejoining with the rest of my unit. Your assuming that they would be in two separate locations is not proof of a deception or trap I have been plotting against you. It seemed obvious to me.”

Nobody looked particularly happy with that answer, understandably, but some of them did at least appear to be considering it. “And that's it?” Wyll eventually asked. “A simple misunderstanding? You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” She may have been answering Wyll's question, but Lae'zel's eyes were burning into Shadowheart as she continued, “But go without me if you find me so untrustworthy. You have little other choice except to turn around and go home, as you've said yourself that the map will only work if you start from the temple.” Finally she looked away, turning her disdainful look on Aradin instead. “Although, you have seen now what happens to those who try to enter without permission.”

He cursed at her, and Lae'zel bared her teeth, practically growling, until Wyll put a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Say we do that,” Astarion proposed, lounging on a blanket under a parasol he'd set up for himself. It was pink, with two hand-sewn little piggies along the edge that he had hated immediately, but it was the only one they'd been able to afford after all the necessities back at the trading post. “We all walk in saying, ’how do you do?’ And these Githmen and I become the best of friends. What then? You think they're just going to let us walk back out with the map? What if they want to keep it for themselves?”

“Then I will argue your usefulness should they have any interest in following it. Traveling with an escort of soldiers will only make the rest of this journey safer for you.”

God, this was ridiculous. Could anyone actually be this…? Shadowheart sighed in frustration, realizing that the longer this went on, the less she was angry because she thought Lae'zel was putting on an act, and the more she was angry because she thought Lae'zel meant every word of it and was genuinely confused by their suspicions!

“Has the error of your ways become clear?” the blockhead in question asked, snippily, and nobody really knew what else to say. She was right at least that their choices in this moment were very limited.

Eventually, it was decided that they would just make camp right here. They only had a couple more hours of sunlight left after their argument anyway, and Barth would need pretty much constant supervision for the rest of the day.

The fact that he hadn't gotten any worse was a good sign though, and Aradin and Remira were quickly recovering now that they'd been fed and watered. It could be weeks before they were back at one-hundred percent again, but they were at least able to get up and walk around without much trouble, and even bury Brian's body with a little help from Wyll and Karlach.

Once she had done as much for him as she reasonably could, Shadowheart left Barth to the care of his companions, who Karlach generously allowed to borrow her tent for the night. Of course, that meant Karlach herself needed other sleeping arrangements, and when she'd asked if she could just bunk up with her, well, who would Shadowheart be to turn her down?

She hadn't really shared such a small space with someone in so long that she found herself oddly nervous. She had kind of missed the “sleepovers with friends” part of a normal upbringing, and as for the sleepovers she'd had as an adult… Well, they were mostly unmemorable and generally did not involve actually sleeping next to one another. And she and Karlach were most likely not doing any of those activities. Nor were they friends. Not really.

Sure, Karlach was nice and fun and all, but they were… coworkers, more or less, hired by Astarion and his mysterious employer who none of them had ever met. They would finish this job, return with the book, and all say their goodbyes. Then Shadowheart would return to…

A gust of wind, sudden and strong, rushed through the camp, blasting open the not quite secured yet flaps of her tent and spraying Shadowheart with sand. With a small cry, she dashed over to grab and hold it closed, though almost instantly the light of her oil lantern was completely blown out, despite its glass casing, and she had to stumble most of the way to the entrance in the dark.

It took longer than she expected, but finally after half a minute or so, the wind died down enough for her to let go of the tent flap and fumble to relight the lamp. Oddly, there was the slightest ringing in her ear, and she realized just how quiet it had gotten in the wake of that loud, whistling wind.

No late night conversations around the fire. No grunts from the camels. No Lae'zel sharpening her damned knives. And what was taking Karlach so long? She'd said she'd only be a minute.

Shadowheart stuck her head outside the tent and found herself in almost pitch darkness. The campfire must have also been blown out, and the moon was hidden behind one of the tall dunes around them. All that she could really see were stars above and the vague shapes of black on black that the landscape had become. Retreating just for a moment, she retrieved the lantern and once again stepped outside to find where Karlach had wandered off to.

She called her name as she approached the center of the camp, finding the fire there completely extinguished, not a single ember still remaining. And she couldn't quite say why, but something about that unsettled her slightly. Especially when she received no answer, from Karlach or anyone else.

“Hello?” Shadowheart tried, making her way over to Karlach's tent. “Is everything alright?”

Still, there was only silence. She hesitated with her hand on the flap, nerves prickling, but forced herself to throw it open, revealing… nothing. No sign of Karlach, or of the three guests she had left here just a few minutes ago. Not even the man who had been on death's door and fully unable to walk.

A kind of panic began to well up in her, and Shadowheart almost ran shouting to every other tent in the camp for someone, anyone to tell her what was going on! Even Lae'zel.

Instead she stood frozen, trying to make sense of any of this, as she gradually became aware of movement in the periphery of her vision. Well… movement might not be the right word. But change.

Turning slowly, she looked up into the night sky to see that one of the stars near the horizon had just blinked out. Followed by another. And another.

One by one, gradually increasing in speed, the night sky was… going away. And she felt a dread like she had never known as she thought about what terrible thing was going to happen when all the stars were gone, and she and her little lamp were the only spot of light left in a universe of darkness.

She didn't want to see it. Whatever was coming, she didn't want to see it, so she did what she had been taught. She closed her eyes and began to pray… though in this moment she had no idea to who.

And then she felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently, and Shadowheart blinked open her eyes once more, disoriented. She was… back in her tent? And someone was leaning over her, squeezing her arm a bit.

“Hey,” came Karlach’s concerned whisper, in the dim light of the lantern turned down about as low as it could without shutting off completely. “You looked dead beat, so I didn't want to wake you. But then you started– Well, it sounded like you were having a bad dream. Are you okay?”

Her pulse was still beating quickly, but Shadowheart lied, “Yes, I'm fine. Just a nightmare, I guess.” What was it about again? Something about the stars? The details were already slipping away.

Karlach chewed at her lip, unsure. “You wanna talk about it?”

Talk about something that frightened her? And have it end up being used against her somehow? “No,” Shadowheart answered eventually, although… perhaps some small part of her had wondered if it wouldn't be so bad opening up, just a little. Just this once. “Let's just get some rest. It sounds like this temple is going to be even more complicated than we were counting on.”

Chapter Text

He survived in the end. Barth.

He wasn't well, of course, but in the morning he was conscious enough to join them for a simple breakfast. And the cut into their own time and resources to help these other travelers wasn't quite as bad as Shadowheart had been expecting. They had their own camp somewhere in the area, they explained, but had gotten turned around in their hasty flight from the Temple of the Moon and could no longer find it.

With Wyll's assistance, they were able to reorient themselves and realize it would only take them maybe half a day to get back there again, and Aradin had soundly refused any offer of further help along the way. He claimed he didn't like being indebted to anyone, but Shadowheart got the feeling he just didn't want them in his camp. Afraid they'd rob him of his food and water to make up for what he'd taken of theirs maybe.

Prick. She didn't want him to die of exposure, sure, but she was also glad to see the back of him when he and his remaining crew finally left.

They were done with trying to get into the temple, he had told them, but they were free to throw their lives away there if they wanted. Like Brian had, and like Liam and their guide Halsin, who they had gotten separated from and had to leave behind to their presumed deaths.

“Such tiring mediocrity,” Lae'zel muttered at their retreating forms, and just this once, Shadowheart had to agree with her.

The rest of the day's journey was… tense, to put it mildly. And she couldn't even blame it all on her lack of sleep. It was said that the people of Faerun had much to thank the Gith Legionnaires for. That without their might and ancient grudge, the continent very likely could have fallen to the Illithid Empire by now. But it was also said that if not for the timely eruption of their own civil war, the continent might just have fallen under a Gith Empire instead.

And none of the stories painted them as benevolent protectors of the lands or people they kept from Illithid control. Not even those told by the Gith people themselves.

So the idea of having to walk right in to one of their bases and hope either to convince them to cooperate or convince Lae'zel to lie to her fellow soldiers? None of them were particularly optimistic.

Even Lae'zel seemed to grow more serious, rather than relaxed or pleased, as they got closer, warning everyone that Aradin's foolish attempt to break in would likely have the camp more on alert than usual. What that might entail, however, she gave little detail on. The exact security measures and practices of their forces were apparently classified, and Lae'zel would not betray the secret.

“Besides,” she had said, giving them a stern glare that Shadowheart had unwillingly begun to recognize as her attempt at a reassuring expression. “The security protocols will be of no concern to you, so long as you let me do all the talking.”

As reassurances went, Shadowheart would rate it… sub-par, at best.

An assessment she would later amend to decidedly sub-par, after they crested a rocky bluff near sundown and could actually spot tiny pinpricks of light in the distance. It was still a long way off, but she could tell even from here that it was much larger than the “camp” she had been picturing. In fact, it could easily be mistaken for a small village.

“Camp Y’llek,” Lae'zel commented as she stepped up beside Shadowheart, her tone businesslike but also with a barely-contained energy behind it. “It is nothing compared to the halls of K'liir, of course. But inside you will see all that Vlaakith's Legion can accomplish even with so little.”

“I'd rather not, if it were at all avoidable,” Shadowheart answered dryly, but… she could admit, at least to herself, that there was a draw to the place. Or rather to the ruin it was built over. She'd been fascinated by the artifact from the moment she and Astarion had retrieved it from the Wyrm's Rock prison, stolen it as Lae'zel would say, and the chance to see where it came from originally? She was definitely curious, and more than just a little.

They stood for a time, taking in the view, while the rest of the party prepared to make camp a short walk behind them. They'd need to pitch in eventually, but for now… Shadowheart turned to Lae'zel, trying to read her for any signs of deception. Finally, she decided just to ask, “Are you making all this up? Do you actually think they'll help us?”

Lae'zel looked back at her and seemed to give the question some real thought. “I don't know. Protocol does not forbid it, but it also doesn't encourage it.” Shadowheart had been getting better at reading her lately, whether she wanted to or not, but there was something in Lae'zel’s eye in this moment that she just couldn't identify. “It remains your best chance at success though, and I will tell them that you–”

She abruptly cut off, turning her head away, and Shadowheart followed her gaze, suddenly on alert. Lae'zel was peering into the dark at the bottom of the bluff, clearly searching for something.

“What is it?” Shadowheart asked, and Lae'zel released a low, throaty grumble.

“I thought I saw… There.” And then she was off! Leaping back and forth down the steep, rocky hillside like a mountain goat, and before she even realized she was doing it, Shadowheart was following, hissing quiet warnings for Lae'zel to stop! To wait for the rest of them.

Of course, Lae'zel didn't listen. She never did, and Shadowheart was forced to scramble after her, much more slowly and carefully. Although she was fit enough for a little rock-climbing, she clearly wasn't the natural, annoyingly confident athlete Lae'zel was, and Shadowheart knew better than anyone how one slip-up here could spell disaster.

She was nearly to the bottom when her movements were brought up short by the sound of voices from up ahead. Her head whipped over in that direction just in time to see a lantern come alight, revealing Lae'zel and several armed figures maybe fifty feet away.

“You're lucky we didn't shoot you dead running up on us in the dark like that,” she heard one of them saying, followed by a harsh breath from Lae'zel that was almost a laugh.

“Please. Your aim has always been terrible, Baretha. Especially in low light.” Shadowheart couldn't see it from here, but she could easily picture Lae'zel's eyeroll. “What are you doing patrolling in the dark like this?”

The voice was tighter this time, with clear annoyance. “Looking for signs of fire without producing any of our own to give away positions. We had some… interlopers recently, and they barely limped away, so can't have gone far.”

“And yet they did escape. Sloppy.”

Well, at least Lae'zel was apparently just as critical with her own people as she was everyone else. Shadowheart carefully descended the last few feet of the rocky climb and slipped behind a large boulder lying nearby. She was far enough away that their lantern light didn't reach her, but still, better to be safe than shot.

“They escaped because of you, Lae'zel,” this other soldier, Baretha, growled. “Not me.” Which seemed to take Lae'zel aback.

Her hands went to her hips as she scoffed, “Talk sense. I haven't been here in weeks.”

“Exactly.” Baretha gestured broadly at the rocky landscape around them. “There are scouting parties out looking for you at all hours. The guard at the camp is spread abysmally thin because of it.”

Oddly, this seemed to surprise Lae'zel even more than it did Shadowheart, striking her mute momentarily. Was that all it took to shut Lae'zel up for a while? Telling her someone cared enough to try and keep her from dying alone in the desert? Good to know.

Finally, she managed to squeeze out a baffled, “Why? That's completely against protocol.” But Baretha just shrugged.

“That's what I'd like to know. An Inquisitor showed up not long after you disappeared, and he's been giving special orders to find you, top priority.” She held the lantern up closer to Lae'zel's face, as if inspecting her intently. “Don't tell me you've been someone important all this time and kept it hidden, Lae'zel. The runt of Vlaakith's own brood perhaps?”

Before Lae'zel could respond, one of the soldiers grabbed Baretha’s shoulder and said, “Sir. I think someone else is out here.”

The lantern lowered, and the others raised their weapons and began to look around, Shadowheart cursing internally and shrinking further behind her rock. “Don't worry about that,” Lae'zel cut in quickly though. “She's with me.”

There was a pause, during which she could no longer see any of the figures but could hear footsteps on the rocks and sand, then Lae'zel's voice continued with more vehemence, “Come out and show them you're no threat, Shadowheart.”

God above. This time she didn't bother keeping her swearing internal as she stood and began to slowly approach. The soldiers still held their weapons at the ready, and she wondered briefly if she ought to hold up her hands, but her pride rejected the idea heartily. Especially with Lae'zel staring at her as well. “I could be a threat if I wanted,” she countered instead, keeping her arms as casual at her side as she could.

A couple of the men laughed at that, and Baretha looked her up and down but didn't deign even to speak to her, instead addressing Lae'zel as she said, “Quite the mouthy servant you have there, soldier.”

Shadowheart bristled, but was cut off before she could respond. “And yet she evaded your notice, Baretha. I choose the company I keep for their skills, not their words.”

Um… She wanted to be mad that Lae'zel hadn't refuted the “servant” comment, but she was distracted by how that last part sounded dangerously close to being a compliment. In the charged silence that followed, she tried to catch her eye, but Lae'zel wouldn't look her way at all, too focused on the angry glower Baretha wore. Was there a chance that actual violence could break out between the two soldiers? Hell, maybe that would be completely normal for them! Shadowheart had no idea.

“Is that so?” Baretha eventually asked, tone clearly doubtful. “Where did you even find her?”

“She… assisted my escape from capture by foreign operatives, as well as my return to the outpost.” A very generous recounting of events, at least coming from Lae'zel, when she could easily choose to make Shadowheart’s life hell right now with just a few words. But that… just wasn't Lae'zel's style, and she kind of hated that she knew that now. Something about the feeling put her on edge.

Which is maybe why, when Baretha skeptically confirmed, “She did that? Alone?” Shadowheart snapped a bit.

“She is right here and can answer for herself.”

Since her initial assessment, Baretha had mostly ignored her, focusing all her attention on Lae'zel instead. Now though, she fully turned the heat of her glare on Shadowheart. “Servants should know their place,” she said with deadly calm, then like lightning her arm flew round to strike her across the face.

Shadowheart flinched backward, arms raising defensively but nowhere near fast enough, she knew. Only… no strike ever actually landed. She blinked in confusion, adrenaline spike finally beginning to fade as she realized Baretha's hand still hovered inches from her cheek, her forearm caught in a vice-like grip.

“I wouldn't,” Lae'zel hissed quietly enough that only the three of them could hear. “You're right that she does not work alone. There are more up on the bluff who may well have the sights of their rifles on you as we speak.”

Baretha practically growled, yanking her arm back from Lae'zel and stomping several steps away, eyes flitting up to the darkness above them. “You would bring hostile outsiders directly to our gates?”

“Not hostile,” Lae'zel corrected, not moving from Shadowheart's side. “Not unless that's what you make them.”

Baretha glared at them as if she were considering it anyway, but then simply ordered over her shoulder, “Fetch them.” A sneer. “Peaceably. We must return with you to the Inquisitor at once, Lae'zel. Then maybe operations can finally get back to normal.”

If the rest of the Legion were half as bad as this… Shadowheart leaned in as the other soldiers passed them, whispering to Lae'zel, “I hope you know what you're doing.”

Chapter Text

The soldiers insisted on returning as quickly as possible, not quite forcing but being very forceful, to the point that the party ended up marching all the way through the night. Despite all complaints, and yes, there were many. Even Lae'zel looked exhausted by the end, though she did her best to hide it.

But in Shadowheart's opinion? It was kind of worth it, to stand just a short walk from the Temple of the Moon as the first rays of morning sunlight revealed its partially intact dome and towers. The largest and supposedly the most beautiful of the spires, Moonrise she had read it was called, was now only its base and a pile of rubble, but it was still one of the most stunning sights she had ever born witness to.

“Wow,” she heard Gale breathe, his expression almost a mirror of her own. And most of the others seemed to agree, staring in varying degrees of wonder at the view.

Lae'zel, however, seemed focused on the structures erected around the temple. A fenced-in compound of sorts, with several large tents and semi-temporary buildings, occupied and patrolled by any number of potential threats.

Guards at the camp’s entrance gave suspicious looks to all of them as they approached, but they quickly turned to shock and some amount of relief at the sight of Lae'zel amongst them. Though whether that was out of genuine concern for her or just because the search and recovery mission would finally be over, Shadowheart couldn't say. They started to ask questions, but Baretha quickly cut them off. “Would you keep the Inquisitor waiting, soldiers?”

That shut them right up.

Of course, stares and whispers followed them all the way through the compound, right up until they reached one of the central buildings, constructed directly against a side wall of the main temple. A headless statue, half-buried in sand, cast a long shadow over it in the light of the rising sun.

The door stood partly open already, a small gathering of soldiers around it, while raised voices carried from within.

“They would know nothing of import,” one was saying, a somewhat strained quality to their tone. “Just more reckless treasure-seekers, like all the others. Allow me the resources to hunt down these so-called ‘Harpers’ haunting the region. Surely, they are agents of the Illithid Empire, and with them crushed beneath our heel, we can accomplish all that you command and more.”

“All that Vlaakith commands,” corrected a second voice, deeper and dripping with disdain and authority.

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Subservient, but bordering on resentful, if Shadowheart was no fool.

“You have heard her orders. Finding the girl is of the highest priority. Ghost stories and Illithid conspiracies can wait until after. Accomplish it quickly, and you may yet remain commander of this post.”

That seemed to work as a cue, and Baretha, who had stopped before the entrance unsure whether or not to interrupt, stepped forward once more. “Inquisitor, Commander,” she said with a formal bow. “I bring news, and more still.”

They were bid to enter, and found themselves standing before two well-decorated officers of the Gith Foreign Legion, if their uniforms were anything to go by. One, a middle-aged woman, instantly locked her gaze on Lae'zel and was flooded with relief, but a cold, calculating sort of relief like a final puzzle piece had unexpectedly fallen into place.

The other though, a tall, thin man with a clean-shaved head, had eyes that burned with satisfaction and frightening hunger, though his tone gave away little of it as he spoke. “Lae'zel of K'liir. You still live. That is a great relief to me. A great relief indeed.”

Lae'zel stepped forward and offered a respectful bow of her own. “Inquisitor. Commander Therezzyn. I apologize for the delay of my return.”

“Fear not, child,” he smiled, like a haughty lord offering scraps to the needy. It kind of made Shadowheart want to punch him. “Your punishment for desertion has been waived, by Vlaakith's own decree. The circumstances were not of your own doing, we are aware, and you have returned to us as quickly as you were able, I presume.”

He looked to Commander Therezzyn then. “Leave us. You and your men.”

She seemed ready to protest momentarily, but eventually decided just to nod and make her way out, leading away all but a couple of soldiers in slightly different uniforms. The Inquisitor’s personal bodyguards, Shadowheart supposed.

As the door shut behind them, Shadowheart couldn't help the feeling she had just been caught in the jaws of a great beast. The Inquisitor's eyes burned into all of them with such a passionate fervor she was surprised nothing set alight. “I am Inquisitor W’wargaz, Vlaakith's justice in flesh,” he eventually declared, giving Lae'zel a curious look. “These outsiders…”

“Have proven themselves,” she answered, standing at attention. “More or less.”

W'wargaz seemed to consider her words a moment, before saying, “Good. You took something from this place when you left, Lae'zel. Something we now suspect to be quite precious. I imagine you or one of your… companions still carries it?”

So that's what this was all about. Shadowheart had suspected of course, but finally getting confirmation of what this man was after? That he was likely about to try to take the map away from them? She wondered if they stood any chance of getting out of here alive if they refused.

“I thought you said you didn't know what it was before,” Astarion butted in, in something of a stage-whisper while giving Lae'zel a sidelong look. “So how does he?”

She wasn't given a chance to answer though. “I know many things long before others do, because it is my job to do so. Some say knowledge is power. But to my order, knowledge is everything. Now… produce the artifact.” W'wargaz smiled like a shark. “Please.”

Shadowheart clutched at her satchel, a bone-deep resistance welling up that honestly frightened her a little. Was she willing to die to keep this thing they still didn't even fully know how to use? Logically, it made no sense.

“Shadowheart.” Lae'zel had stepped up in front of her, trying to catch her eye with a deadly serious look. “If you refuse him, it will not end well. Give it to me. All will be fine.”

Shadowheart swallowed and slowly, the tight grip on her bag unclenched, allowing Lae'zel to reach in and withdraw the many-faceted artifact that had traveled halfway across Faerun and back. She heard something like a sigh of contentment from W'wargaz, who seemed to nearly take a step toward it but then stop himself.

“You’ve held it longer than anyone,” he said, more calmly but full of an expectation to be obeyed. “I know that this object is meant to lead to a second location somehow. But what have you discovered about its use, Lae'zel?”

Shaking her head though, Lae'zel motioned toward Gale as she answered, “Very little actually. I would ask the scholar. If you seek to unlock the artifact's secrets, you may find his help invaluable.”

Somewhat surprised to suddenly be the center of attention, Gale cleared his throat and stepped forward, beginning a stilted explanation of what they had discovered about the artifact and the symbols on it, as well as what further facets of its purpose they were hoping they could learn from the temple itself. He seemed unsure of how much to reveal, but W'wargaz listened patiently and did not press… yet. Confident that he would get what he was after in time, no doubt.

A low-level worry thrummed in the back of Shadowheart's skull, but the fact that he hadn't immediately taken the map, had left it in Lae'zel's strong hands, went further to reassure her than she would have expected. The two Gith soldiers were on the same side, obviously. And yet… Shadowheart felt calm enough that she was able to really take in the rest of the room for the first time. It was a simple affair, a desk and chairs, some storage crates. In one corner of the room sat a ratty blanket, a large bone, and two leashes that told her whoever's office this actually was likely had dogs. Or some very particular hobbies.

But the thing that really caught her attention was a shelf of small objects, presumably recovered from the temple. An ancient bronze dagger, a cracked clay jar with faded images of animals on its side, and a dozen other mismatched bits of history. Without really thinking about it, she stepped a little closer while no one was paying her much attention.

One of them looked to be a stylized disc of thick, rounded metal about the size of her palm, almost like an oversized locket or pocket-watch. And when she touched it, it did feel light enough to be hollow, though she could see no obvious way to open the thing. Instead, it was decorated with a number of overlapping little circles inscribed with images of the phases of the moon.

The whole thing was remarkably well-preserved given its presumed age, and when she ran her thumb over its surface, Shadowheart found that the circles actually… rotated? Some more easily than others, but by toying with them a bit, she found she could make all sorts of patterns out of the images. Patterns that really…

She wasn't sure. They drew her in somehow, made her forget the rest of the room a bit, though they were only simple engravings, and even then just a few different ones repeated over and over. But it felt like there was a puzzle to this, and if she had a few hours to study its meaning, perhaps she could–

With a soft click, a hidden clasp inside must have come undone, because the tiniest of openings appeared around the edge of the little trinket, and Shadowheart was so surprised that she just stood there staring for several seconds and forgot to actually open it. But when she did, she found it contained no great treasure or grand secret of the past. Only a small lock of white hair, preserved in some sort of wax. A memento of someone's love that still remained, hundreds or maybe even thousands of years after both of them were gone.

Looking at it pulled a strange swell of emotion out of her, and Shadowheart recoiled from the prickle of tears trying to come to her eyes, closing the thing once more and spinning its dials to hopefully reseal it for another century or two. How she had managed to get it open at all, she had no idea. Blind luck, she supposed. But when she looked back up to the center of the room, where the other artifact was being discussed, she saw that W'wargaz was looking right at her, measuring her in a way that made her deeply uncomfortable.

“Vlaakith,” he said, turning his sharp gaze back to Gale and Lae'zel, “suspects that this so-called ‘Gauntlet’ is one of the reasons that the Illithid Empire came to this region to begin with, and that they still have an interest in finding it. Thus, I have been tasked with finding it first and keeping it from them, by any means necessary.”

His eyes narrowed and, again, that terrible smile crept up his face. “I believe this to be a goal that can be accomplished much more easily if we work together. But I am prepared to continue on with it alone, if necessary.”

The six of them exchanged unsure looks, and when no one else spoke up, Wyll asked, “Could we have a little time to discuss it? We’ve been traveling for days, literally without sleep last night. I can say for myself at least that I'm not thinking at full capacity.”

Karlach backed him up by yawning so deeply that her jaw audibly popped. “What he said.”

“Yes, of course,” the inquisitor responded, though his expression didn't fully match the agreeable words. “I will have some bunks prepared for you. Rest up, eat. I have some other business this evening to attend to, but we can speak again tomorrow morning.”

He gave a nod to one of the guards at the door, who turned to lead them out, but added, “Lae'zel. You stay. We have time for a debriefing still.”

Shadowheart desperately wanted out of here but hesitated, not sure that she wanted to leave Lae'zel alone with this man. But Lae'zel stepped up and placed the artifact back in her hands, nodding, “Go. We'll speak soon.”

And there wasn't really much she could do but comply, not here in the heart of potential enemy territory. She just had to leave, watching with something of a pit in her stomach as the door closed behind them.

Chapter Text

Lae'zel did not see Shadowheart or the others again until late that evening. After her debrief with Inquisitor W'wargaz and then another with Commander Therezzyn, it was past midday by the time she was able to find her bunk for the first time in ages and squeeze in a few hours’ rest. The other soldiers, while clearly some mix of interested and annoyed at the extra work she'd put them through, had blessedly kept most of their curiosity to themselves.

Varrl, a new recruit with slightly too much hope in his eyes for this job she sometimes thought, had asked her a few questions, before his captain shut the boy up with a cuff to the head and sent him to work.

Eventually though, Lae'zel was roused and informed her normal duties would be on hold for the moment. Until she was told otherwise, her task would be keeping watch over the “guests” she had brought in, an unusual enough event that it required special protocols.

She learned along the way that they had been assigned to stay in one of the large, sturdy tents near the middle of the camp. Private but not easily defensible if they caused trouble and far from the fences so running would also be a difficult task. A smart choice, she had to admit, for strangers they didn't want to fully imprison but who were of unknown character or intent.

Through the thick canvas, she could hear muffled voices inside but could make no sense of it until she unbound the tight cords holding the tent’s entrance against the desert wind. For just a moment as she stepped in, the place went quiet, and the eyes of the small group mostly sitting near the other end of the room turned toward the sound suspiciously.

Then Karlach was hopping to her feet and making her way over with a grin. “Hey! You made it!” She wrapped an arm around Lae'zel's shoulder just as she finished resealing the canvas flaps of the entrance, jostling her across the room to the others. “Thought maybe they'd tossed you in the stocks or set you to digging latrines for the next hundred years for tardiness or something.”

“There was just a lot to discuss. I–” Lae'zel paused, taking in Karlach's expression, the slight slur to her speech, and… yes, the smell. “Are you drunk?”

Her jaw dropped indignantly. “Me?! No!” Then she smiled and said just a bit too loudly to be a whisper, “I am getting drunk.”

Lae'zel allowed herself to be led over and then sat on one of the simple camp beds near the group, as Wyll explained, “Someone may have… done a bit of exploring and borrowed a small store of alcohol from our gracious hosts.”

“Frankly, it was rude and neglectful of them not to offer to begin with,” Astarion chimed in smugly, a tin cup of some dark liquid in his hand. “I'm sure they would understand and apologize if we made them aware of their error.” He gave Lae'zel a coy smile. “But let's not. No need to embarrass anyone.”

Why was she not surprised that they had done something this ridiculous the second they got out of her sight? The disapproval must have shown on her face, because Karlach defended, “What else were we meant to do? Our meeting with W'what’s-his-name isn't ‘til morning, and we've not really been encouraged to wander or mingle with anyone else around here.”

“Mingle,” Lae'zel repeated skeptically. A military base in semi-hostile territory was no place for such things.

“Ah yes, the noble art of mingling. A time-honored tradition in my family's circles actually,” Gale pronounced with a sort of faux grandeur, then held another battered little army mug out to her. “Here, have a drink, and I can demonstrate.”

Lae'zel did not reach for it. “I am on duty.”

“Babysitting duty, it looks like,” Shadowheart finally spoke up to comment, sitting a little away from the others. There was a flush to her cheeks that evidenced the couple of drinks she herself must have indulged in already. “Unless you’re just popping in to check on us before you run off to some more important task?”

When Lae'zel didn't answer, she smirked, “So what's one drink going to hurt?”

And… well, Lae'zel couldn't just refuse a challenge like that, could she?

Still, she was not so foolish as to over-indulge when her superior officers could call on her at any moment, so for some time as everyone sat around and talked she sipped at just the one drink. A foul concoction, by any measure, that burned the whole way down and made even her wince a little. Lae'zel approved of the choice.

And eventually that night she found herself seated alone, staring into her empty cup as most of the others were caught up in private conversations or already asleep. Astarion had completely disappeared again, and Lae'zel couldn't decide if it was more impressive or concerning that not one of them had seen him leave.

She was in something of a contemplative mood, she found, now that her time with these odd adventurers was likely coming to an end the next day. Was meeting them a blessing from Mother Gith or a curse, she wondered?

There was a sudden shift on the little bunk she sat on, and a quiet oof as something soft tumbled against Lae'zel's side, interrupting her thoughts. She looked over to see Shadowheart, eyebrows knit together in concentration as she pushed back several inches from Lae'zel's shoulder. She mumbled something that might have been an apology, or maybe a string of quiet curses. Possibly both.

She was clearly quite intoxicated, and Lae'zel eyed her a moment before reaching over and snatching what was left of her drink away. Shadowheart tried to keep hold of it but her clumsy movements were easily outmatched, and after the briefest narrowing of her eyes, she affected disinterest and primly sat her hands in her lap like that had been her intention all along.

“I was done with it anyway,” she slurred, and Lae'zel couldn't help a quiet snort.

Shadowheart blinked at her, head tilting slightly as she asked, “Did you just laugh?”

“No,” Lae'zel answered with a frown. She definitely hadn't. That didn't count at all. But Shadowheart was looking at her so skeptically.

“Mhmm, sure.”

Lae'zel scowled down at the two cups she was holding and belatedly set them aside on a nearby shelf. “Did you have something to say, or did you just come over to stumble into me and embarrass yourself?”

“Ugh,” Shadowheart groaned and rolled her eyes. “You always have to make this so difficult.” She pointed a finger right in her face, and Lae'zel felt a momentary urge to bite her again. It was the same hand and everything. “I was going to ask you about the thing you said.”

Instead, she grabbed the hand and forcibly lowered it. “Which thing? You'll need to be more specific.”

A cheeky little smile was her only answer at first, but then with an exaggerated hum, Shadowheart said, “I forget exactly. You might have to remind me how it went. Something about… you choosing your company based on their skill?”

Vlaakith preserve her. Lae'zel shifted in her seat so she was facing Shadowheart but there was a bit more distance between them, her knee on the bunk a clear barrier. “Yes,” she answered with audible reluctance. “You have some skills that have surprised me with their competence. But that doesn't change that I think you're a thief and a liar.”

“A liar?” Shadowheart scoffed. Apparently she wasn't even going to bother denying the thief part at this point. “That's rich coming from- Coming from the person who didn't even tell us this camp existed.”

“We've been over that,” Lae'zel said, also uninterested in repeating old arguments. Instead of responding with anger of her own, she took a moment to look Shadowheart over and consider her thoughts. “What I'm saying is… I think you're keeping a secret, and maybe a dangerous one.”

She waved a hand in the direction of the others, on the opposite side of the tent and paying them no mind. “Them? I get. The thrill of adventure, the satisfaction of helping those in need. The acquisition of ancient knowledge, or ancient wealth. These are motivations I understand, whatever my personal feelings on them may be. But you…”

Something clicked in Shadowheart's muddled thoughts, and she gave Lae'zel a knowing look. “You're wondering… what is a place like me doing in a girl like this?”

Lae'zel had to look away so Shadowheart didn't see her smile. “Something like that,” she answered, once she'd schooled her features once more.

Resting her chin in her hand and her elbow on Lae'zel's knee, Shadowheart took a deep breath and audibly blew it out. “My mother's from here, you know. Anauroch.” She looked up into Lae'zel's eyes, but what emotions danced behind that gaze were a bit of a mystery. “My father was a rather well-known archaeologist, and she was the guide on many of his desert expeditions. I don't really talk about them much, or tell many people my last name.”

She narrowed her eyes and vaguely motioned away as she said, “Don't tell Gale that. I’m sure he’s heard the name before, and I don't have the patience to listen to him go through a whole list guessing at it. I don't even really remember them that well, to be honest. They died when I was quite young.”

Lae'zel knew the polite thing was to say she was sorry, but instead she simply waited. It seemed like Shadowheart had bigger things on her mind than whether or not she received a platitude she had surely heard a thousand times.

“I guess part of the reason I came here, and probably why Astarion offered me the job in the first place, is because of them,” she eventually continued. “To do what they did and see if I feel some sort of connection.”

“And do you?” Lae'zel asked, which made Shadowheart frown in thought, in… disquiet and maybe even a little bit of fear, oddly.

“I don't know. I've certainly felt… different, since I came here.” Her gaze was a million miles away, and Lae'zel almost reached out a hand, until Shadowheart focused in again and shrugged, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Though maybe that's how I'd feel anywhere that isn't Baldur's Gate. It's home, but it's also where the orphanage I grew up in is, and the absolute bitch of a nun who raised me. Every mile between me and her is a blessing.”

Lae'zel raised an eyebrow at that. “And yet I still see you praying every night in camp.”

Shadowheart laughed, though there wasn't a lot of humor in it, as she explained, “I was abused by a person, not a god. The faith was the only part of it that gave me any comfort. Although these days whether I actually believe anyone is listening or it just makes me feel a bit better…” She shook her head, then gave Lae'zel a slightly unfocused look. “Satisfied? Do you… ‘get me’ now?”

“I think I'm starting to,” Lae’zel answered, though she still felt like Shadowheart was holding things back. She was quickly distracted however, as the cheeky little thing straightened up and scooted a bit closer to her, a smug half-smile now on her lips.

“Good. Because I want to know something about you now.”

Lae'zel didn't like where this was going, but she asked anyway, “Something in general?”

“No,” Shadowheart answered, her hand resting on Lae'zel’s knee in a way that was just a bit too casual. “Something specific. About the day we first met.”

Lae'zel swallowed. “The day you stole from me.”

But this time, Shadowheart didn't take the bait like usual. Her smile just grew a bit, and she answered, “Yes. The day I stole from you. And you nearly attacked me for it.” She licked her lips, ever so briefly, but Lae'zel noticed. “Before that though, when we were talking… you felt something, didn't you? A connection. And that's why you got so upset when you realized I was after your artifact.”

Lae'zel tried to respond, but Shadowheart held up a finger and continued, “I don't say this often. But I do feel a bit bad about that.”

“Are you going to apologize then?” Lae'zel managed after a moment.

“No,” Shadowheart laughed, closer than ever. “But if you'll let me… I think I’m going to kiss you now.”

“What?” Lae'zel breathed, and those lips she kept looking at pulled into an impish smirk.

“Well, the other option I was considering was stabbing you. Would you prefer that?”

Lae'zel didn't answer, but she didn't pull away. And that seemed to be enough for Shadowheart to begin leaning the rest of the way in. Despite herself, Lae'zel found her heart pounding and her eyes fluttering closed, as she felt hands balancing themselves against her thighs and the weight of Shadowheart's body press against her own in a long moment of anticipation. And then…

…and then?

Slowly, Lae'zel opened her eyes, to find Shadowheart slumped against her shoulder, fully asleep.

Right. Alcohol. Of course.

Lae'zel took in a deep breath, then slowly released it in something of a growl, already mentally berating herself for her foolishness. Gently, she slid Shadowheart down from her shoulder onto the simple bunk and covered her in one of the less than stellar but functional blankets they'd been provided.

Then in one swift motion, she snatched what remained of Shadowheart's terrible drink, swallowed the entire thing, and stalked off as far away as she could be without completely abandoning her post. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

W'wargaz waited in a familiar chamber beneath the earth, though now it was well-lit and cleared of most of the debris and dust that filled it in Lae'zel's first visit to this place. The mosaics of the night sky and worshippers in prayer and other ceremonies carved into the walls were worn but still retained so much of the beauty they once must have.

Karlach let out a low whistle, and Gale was babbling a long string of theories and terms that, frankly, Lae'zel couldn't keep up with. Not that she was trying very hard. Her attention was mostly on W'wargaz and the ancient armillary in front of him. The series of concentric metal rings, adorned with little figures meant to represent the celestial bodies, and the stone floor beneath it were still stained slightly darker in places from the blood once spilled here.

“This temple,” the Inquisitor began like a lecturer in front of an audience, though his back was still turned to them, “and the Moonrise Towers above were built almost as mirrors to the Gauntlet of Shar, it is said.”

They had all gone silent, even Gale, watching as W'wargaz turned and regarded them. “Because the people of Ancient Anauroch cherished balance in all things. To glorify one god too greatly was to insult another. To indulge too much in one pleasure or vice–” He leveled Lae'zel with a stare that made her inhale sharply. “–or even emotion, was to create imbalance and throw off both your inner and your outer world.”

He ran a single finger along the armillary’s outermost ring, continuing, “That is why the map to one of these temples must be found in the other. A candle in the darkness, a shadow cast in the moonlight. But a map is useless if we don't know how to read it.”

“And you think the key to reading it is in this room somewhere?” Shadowheart asked, but Lae'zel didn't look her way. They hadn't spoken this morning, and there was every chance they wouldn't get the chance to speak again before she and her party left for good and Lae'zel returned to her normal duties. Which was… fine. She had expected nothing less.

“Yes, I do,” W'wargaz answered, motioning around to the very decorated walls of the chamber. “And I believe that working together, we might just be able to find that key hidden somewhere in these images.”

That was… a lot to examine. The chamber was quite large, and not all of the carved images were even intact. If they needed to fill in the blanks as well to make sense of it all, there was no telling how long this would take. “And if we agree, any suggestions on where to start?” Wyll tried, sounding unsure.

W'wargaz smiled his humorless grin once more. “With the artifact itself might be a safe bet.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Shadowheart withdrew the object in question, its unpolished metal facings reflecting all the oil lamps around the room only dully. Each depicted a different symbol, which she and Gale had worked out to be some obfuscation or perhaps alternate interpretation of a constellation that ought to be visible from this area of the continent, at least at this time of year. When they'd told Astarion that not all of them would be visible year-round, he'd been even more keen to make sure this expedition happened immediately.

But what they hadn't been able to determine was how exactly to follow the stars it showed. Presumably it was as simple as traveling toward each in turn, but in what order and for how long exactly? That remained a mystery.

Lae'zel watched as Gale took charge, seemingly forgetting they had not yet given W'wargaz a definite answer to his proposal of cooperation as he excitedly instructed everyone to look the walls over for familiar images in its depictions of the stars. If any of them aligned with one of the symbols on the map, they were to make note of it for further study.

A task he and W'wargaz at least seemed enthusiastic about. As much as the Inquisitor seemed to be enthusiastic about anything. Wyll and Karlach were dutifully trying, but Lae'zel could tell the distractible woman’s attention for it was already waning. And Astarion and Shadowheart were spending more time whispering in the corner than actually working.

Every time one of them glanced her way Lae'zel felt a twinge of discomfort, wondering what they might be saying about her. Bah, gossiping little hens should be no concern of hers.

She turned and focused on the mosaic before her. An image of worshippers in awe of the moon, which was itself depicted… with weeping eyes oddly enough, its tears falling down to the earth like rain. Something about it was oddly moving, despite its poor condition. Maybe even because of it.

She almost reached up to touch it but stopped herself, looking to see how the others were faring and noticing Shadowheart had moved to examine that damned armillary in the back of the chamber. Lae'zel hesitated a moment, but with as much dignity as she could manage, she approached it as well.

“An impressive piece of craftsmanship,” she said, looking at it instead of Shadowheart, who only briefly glanced her way.

“And a beautiful piece of art.”

It took Lae'zel a moment to answer, realizing she had never really stopped to consider it for its aesthetics. “Yes, I suppose it is. It's where the artifact was first discovered actually.”

She nodded toward a small, divoted platform in the center, and watched as Shadowheart looked between it and the map in her hand, before curiously reaching forward with it. “Don't,” Lae'zel hissed and grabbed her a bit too roughly by the arm, heart-rate suddenly spiking out of nowhere.

“What was that for?” Shadowheart gasped with annoyance, yanking her arm free and rubbing at it with her other hand.

“I…” Lae'zel cleared her throat and crossed her arms defensively. “I don't know if it's safe. It hasn't done it since, but the mechanism actually moved when the artifact was first pulled out.” She scuffed at the old bloodstain at their feet. “Better safe than sorry.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, answering, “Thanks, I guess. But you could’ve just said that.”

Instead of responding, Lae'zel just turned to look over where most of the others had gathered around a damaged section of the wall, debating something or other about its missing pieces. All of them except for… “Where’s Astarion?” she asked, and Shadowheart’s expression went very still. It was one of the things she did sometimes that made Lae'zel think there might be something truly dangerous about this woman.

“Don't worry about it,” Shadowheart said just a little too casually. “I'm sure he's off trying to filch some more alcohol or something and will be back soon.”

Lae'zel wanted to argue, but she saw the focus slip from Shadowheart's eyes as her attention locked in on the artifact and the armillary. So instead she asked, “What? Did you see something?”

“That hole.”

Lae'zel followed her gaze to the slight indentation in the armillary’s central pedestal. It was slightly larger than the artifact, and shaped sort of like a star, but other than that Lae'zel could see no unusual features. “What about it?” she asked, but Shadowheart seemed deep in thought.

She was staring right at it, her hands idly fiddling with the artifact. Then she looked down, muttering, “She called it a key.” Her fingers picked up speed, sliding over each surface as if searching for something and getting more and more frantic every second, until finally they stopped all at once. Shadowheart pressed in on a couple of spots around the thing in a specific order and, with the tiniest of clicks, several of the panels along one side of the device popped open on tiny hidden hinges. Forming a simple star shape of their own.

Lae'zel had never seen it do that before, was not sure anybody had, and she sort of just stood there in mute shock for a while. Until Shadowheart once again started reaching toward the armillary.

She was about to stop her again, when a thin, bony hand grabbed her by the shoulder and she looked up to see W'wargaz, not appearing shocked at all but triumphant, as if this had gone just the way he'd expected. “What's happening?” Lae'zel asked, and his hand gripped even tighter.

“Instinct,” he said quietly as he stared with an open hunger. “I don't know what it is, but there's something about this one. She knows things.”

Then she heard a quiet, familiar mechanical hiss and, without thought, tore herself free of W'wargaz’s grasp and leapt forward to roughly tackle Shadowheart to the ground! The painful crash and the loud sound of the armillary’s rings rotating above them seemed to snap Shadowheart’s attention back to Lae'zel, and she started to struggle, shouting, “Get off of me! What is wrong with you?!”

“Me?!” Lae'zel bit back, clambering to her feet once more. “What's wrong with you? I told you how dangerous this thing is!”

She waved her hand in the direction of this ancient model of the universe, sitting in a new alignment and with the open artifact now fitted perfectly in the central indentation. Shadowheart didn't stand, just sat on the ground looking back and forth between Lae'zel and her own arm, as if she'd only just realized how close she came to losing it.

The others came running over from other parts of the room, Wyll asking, “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“We're fine,” Shadowheart answered, though she didn't fully sound it. Suddenly Astarion was at her side, holding out a hand in her direction.

“Hardly fine,” he scoffed. “You're both covered in dust.” Then, as he pulled Shadowheart up, he leaned in to whisper something in her ear that made her nod slightly.

Gale was staring the armillary and the newly-configured artifact over, and now that it had been confirmed no one was dead or wounded, he breathed, “I didn't know it could do that. How did you know how to make it do that?”

Shadowheart eyed him a moment and then shrugged. “I was comparing it with this thing, and… I don't know. I had a hunch, I guess.”

“Good hunch,” he laughed, then went back to studying the thing.

“What are you thinking?” W'wargaz asked, and Gale gave a long, thoughtful hum.

He began to explain something about the positions of the rings and how that might correspond with the symbols somehow, but Lae'zel was watching Shadowheart. That whole thing with the artifact had been so strange, and the way she was looking around, fidgeting, like she was waiting impatiently for something to happen…?

Lae'zel stepped up and quietly demanded, “What is this? What are you doing?”

Shadowheart looked back at her, irritation and indecision fighting over her face. “Not right now,” she whispered, eyes flicking to W'wargaz. “Just keep quiet. I'll tell you in a minute.”

What the hell was she planning? Lae'zel should call her out. Should warn the Inquisitor that something was afoot and demand Shadowheart admit everything…

But she didn't. She stared Shadowheart in the eyes and made the decision to hear her out.

W'wargaz’s laugh turned her around again, a quiet, grating sound that put her even more on edge. “An excellent deduction, outsider,” he said, smiling at Gale. “I need to have a word with the commander, but soon we can discuss our next steps for putting this map to use.”

He seemed to consider grabbing the artifact himself, but thought better of reaching through the rings for it and instead began walking to the door.

“You figured it out?” Shadowheart asked Gale, and he shrugged.

“I have a pretty good theory, but there's no way to know until we try it.”

“Thats great!” Astarion called cheerily, then his expression turned sour right as the door slammed shut behind the Inquisitor. “Because we're leaving, right now.”

Gale's eyes bulged comically, the opposite of Lae'zel’s own, which she felt narrow. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

“Because that man is about to murder us.” Astarion was fiddling in his pockets for something, but took a moment to pass a look between Lae'zel and Shadowheart. “What about her? Is she in, or do we need to kill her or something?”

“Try it, I dare you,” Lae'zel growled, hand going to the heavy knife at her belt.

But Shadowheart put a firm hand on her arm. “No one's killing anyone. Not if we get out of here fast enough.”

“Explain,” Lae'zel demanded, but Astarion was halfway across the room already.

“No time! Chop chop!”

“Now that he knows how the artifact works, the Inquisitor is planning to kill us any second now,” Shadowheart hurried out, as everyone other than her and Astarion stared, dumbfounded. “Astarion overheard it last night while he was skulking around the base.”

They all tried to ask questions at once (except Astarion who just scoffed loudly at the use of the word “skulking”), but Lae'zel cut in over them, “That's impossible!”

An Inquisitor wouldn't– Vlaakith's own justice couldn't– Shadowheart grabbed her and looked her in the eyes, serious but also impatient, imploring her to listen. “He wants the treasure for himself. He's not even here on orders from Vlaakith, he's been lying to everyone this whole time.”

Did she believe her? Did she believe her?

“And Astarion told you but not us?” Karlach asked, sounding mildly offended.

“You're a terrible liar, dear! Needed to keep it hush-hush,” Astarion called, now looking up at the ceiling in a particular spot across the room. He threw something from his pocket at it, maybe just a rock, but a few seconds later, there was a rustle from above and a shaft of sunlight came shining down on top of him.

Of course. The first hole that broke through into this chamber was never fully repaired. Some boards and tarps were arranged over it, and it became just another detail of the camp. Now it was to be Astarion's escape route apparently.

A rope soon followed down the shaft, and Astarion began climbing up expertly, as everyone else started walking that way. All but Shadowheart, who picked up a stool that sat nearby and used it to push the artifact safely from the armillary. Lae'zel caught it as it rolled to the other side, and both of them flinched back from the splinters that flew when the metal rings snapped the stool more or less in half.

They were the last to reach the rope, and Lae'zel could almost swear she heard footsteps in the hall outside, though there was no way the sound could actually carry like that. She put the artifact back in Shadowheart's satchel and pushed her to climb the rope. “Go,” she said, voice tight with frustration. “I'll talk to the commander. Try to make them–”

“No, Lae'zel,” Shadowheart interrupted. “You don't get it. He's planning to say you're a traitor. Maybe already has! You helped us try to kill him, so his men had to kill you and all of us.” She placed the rope in Lae'zel’s hand as well. “He can't have anyone around who knows too much about the artifact.”

Still, she hesitated as Shadowheart began to climb. Her whole life’s experience told her this could not be true. That such injustice could not happen. It was all so- so-

With a loud crash, the door burst open and W'wargaz and his men rushed in, their rifles already drawn and ready to fire before they'd even seen her. How? How could this be?! How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?

Shadowheart was already well above her, almost to the top of the rope when the first shots rang out and Lae'zel started to aggressively climb up after. Not that she had any expectation of reaching the daylight above. Those first misses could only be credited to the soldiers’ surprise. There was no way the personal guard of an Inquisitor would be anything but expert marksmen.

And she was right. The sudden flash of pain from a bullet’s graze across her arm almost made Lae'zel lose her grip, and for a moment she just hung there, barely keeping herself aloft and certain that at any second– The rope suddenly lurched upwards, and she went with it. She could see Karlach above, dragging her closer, hand over hand, and then Shadowheart was on her belly, reaching over the edge to grab Lae'zel's arm and yank her the rest of the way up onto hard, sun-baked stone.

Shouts and more gunshots followed, but they were out of sightline now, and with a quiet, “Oops,” Astarion cut the rope and let it fall into the hole so no one could follow. “Time to go, ladies.”

The rational part of her mind knew that this wasn't the time for outbursts, but that part was a quiet murmur next to the rush of her emotions, and Lae'zel clawed at the sand where Shadowheart had dragged her and shouted an unintelligible roar of anger and frustration into the sky above!

They were out of sight around the backside of the temple, but someone could appear at any moment. Especially after that display. Still, Karlach and Shadowheart looked at her only with sympathy, allowing her just a moment to catch her breath before pulling her to her feet. The others stood a few yards away, gathered around an unfamiliar young man sporting a frightened expression and a number of nasty bruises.

“Who is that?” Lae'zel asked, and Astarion waved an arm and started walking toward the camp perimeter.

“We're walking and talking,” he instructed. “And this is Liam, everyone. Liam, this is everyone. He's the one who dropped us our rope. Now, we'll do proper introductions later so I can skip anyone who dies on the way out.”

Halfway there, so far attempting to look casual and inconspicuous, a loud klaxon alarm began to go off, and with a number of muttered curses, they ran. There were shouts from around the camp, but Astarion had picked their escape route well, because they were almost to the fence by the time any soldiers got close enough to open fire on them.

Lae'zel covered the retreat with a few shots of her own. She had no love for these soldiers, had in fact been in strict competition with many of them for the Legion's recognition, but until now they had fought for a common cause at least. To aim her weapon at them now felt so strange and wrong. But she had no intention of dying today, lying in a traitor’s ignoble grave while the real traitor stole away with his plundered gold.

Finally, they hit the fence, only to find that one section of the chain links that made it up had been cleverly clipped and then replaced to look undamaged. “When did you do all of this?” Lae'zel asked, completely flabbergasted.

Astarion was rolling back the gap he'd made and motioning for everyone to follow him through, only taking a second to shoot her an annoyed look. “Last night, while you were all drinking and sleeping and being entirely unhelpful.” He yelped, as a bullet hit a nearby rock, barely missing him. “Now, let's go!”

They pressed on, through and beyond the camp perimeter, Astarion's directions seemingly leading them toward a small, jagged hillock of stone. But they were only halfway there when a voice called out, “Stop!” from off to their right.

Lae'zel spun with her pistol in hand, only to find just a single soldier standing some distance away with his rifle leveled at them. The rest must have gone to grab mounts and exit by one of the gates.

He was young, sweating profusely, and his hands were not entirely steady on the weapon. She could probably take him out before he got off a shot, but it was no guarantee. “The Inquisitor says you're a traitor, Lae'zel,” he called, a slight tremor to his voice.

“Varrl,” she answered, finally recognizing the boy she had barely met before her disappearance. Too weak, she had thought then. Too soft. “W’wargaz lies.”

In many respects he still looked it, but somehow the idea of an Inquisitor lying didn't shake him as much as it had her. Varrl simply blinked a couple of times before offering, “Surrender, and we can work that all out.”

“It won't work like that, and you know it.” And he did. They all knew the word of Vlaakith's Inquisitors was law.

“Just… put the gun down, lad,” Wyll chimed in, hands raised in a gesture of peace. “No one else has to get hurt. We'll just go and cause you no more trouble.”

There was hesitation in his eyes, but after a long, tense pause, Varrl slowly lowered the rifle. Pathetic, Lae'zel would have called him for that not long ago. A coward and a traitor. But now…

“Shoot the gun,” she instructed, and everyone turned to her with looks of horror or confusion. She clicked her tongue and motioned to the rocks and sand around them. “Not at us. You'll be punished for having poor aim, but if they see your weapon wasn't used at all, it will be much worse.”

Karlach huffed a laugh. “Had me going for a second there, Lae. Come on, let's get out of here.”

The sound of shouting was approaching once more, and the group of them finally managed to get around to the other side of the hill Astarion had been leading them to. A couple of cracks from Varrl’s rifle echoing uselessly behind them. Around the way, they found a most unexpected sight waiting for them.

Their damned camels were here somehow, loaded up with the packs from their tent, as well as a few other procured supplies it looked like. And holding their reigns was an absolute bear of a man, who smiled as they approached.

“Ah, I heard all the excitement,” he said, much less bothered than seemed appropriate for the circumstances. “I'm glad to see you made it.”

“Again,” Astarion hurried them, immediately climbing onto one of the mounts. “Introductions later, riding away very quickly now.”

“Are you… Halsin?” Wyll asked, as the rest of them also mounted up on their own animals.

“The very same!” the large man confirmed with a slight chuckle, and Wyll smiled back.

“I know a lot of people who will be very happy to see you come home.”

“Less talking, more riding!” Astarion shouted in frustration. “Now, ride!” He whipped his reins, and the camel took off like a shot into the open desert ahead of them.

Chapter Text

If Lae'zel were a commander, Wyll Ravengard would be exactly the man she'd want teaching her soldiers how to move through this desert. With his guidance, and a few tips from this new Halsin fellow, they actually managed to lose all the soldiers pursuing them, at least temporarily.

She was not the only skilled tracker in Camp Y’llek, and W'wargaz would not give up easily. The Order of Inquisitors were famous for two things: their ruthlessness in delivering Vlaakith's justice and their dogged determination to see each mission done.

Still, they bought themselves enough time to stop and rest their mounts, which they would not be getting far without if they ran them to death or exhaustion.

“If you take care of them, they will take care of you,” Halsin had said when they stopped, patting one of the beasts on its flank fondly. His good cheer, despite the terrible time he had endured as W'wargaz’s captive, was honestly a little disturbing. Lae'zel had experienced something similar herself after all, as part of her training to resist torture were she ever captured by the enemy.

But she supposed she didn't mind having him around. He was local to the area and knew it well enough to lead Aradin and his crew directly to the Temple of the Moon, and they hadn't even had to sink a boat in the process. Plus, it was pretty funny watching Astarion get more and more uncomfortable as Halsin repeatedly professed his gratitude for freeing him (“I did it for completely selfish reasons!” he kept insisting).

And the others seemed to be of a similar mind.

“Over the years, many travelers have come through my village looking for the Gauntlet of Shar,” Lae'zel overheard him explaining to Shadowheart later, as she examined his wounds and asked how he'd gotten involved in all of this. She had just finished doing the same for the boy, Liam, who Lae'zel was reassured to see was appropriately traumatized by his time in captivity. The commander’s forces hadn't completely lost their edge then.

“Some well-meaning, others very much not,” Halsin continued. “But whether it was simply riches they sought, or the fabled Song of Night, they all inevitably came back empty-handed. If they came back at all. I… pitied them, I suppose. But they were grown men who could make their own decisions, and they weren't causing any problems for my people, so I left them to it.”

He winced as Shadowheart dressed a wound on his side, but gave a reassuring smile when she paused to look up at him. “Go on,” he insisted, then took a second to regain his place in the story. “Recently though, with the Gith Legion and the Illithid Empire causing all sorts of problems in the area and, according to rumor, also interested in seeking the Gauntlet, I thought… I don't know. Maybe if I could just get it over with, help someone find the damned thing, everyone might lose interest in us. Go make trouble somewhere else.”

“How did that work out?” Shadowheart asked, and Halsin gave a rueful chuckle.

“You know, it could've gone better.”

They discussed briefly what Halsin might do next, whether he intended just to head back home or if he would be interested in finishing his mission by helping them reach the Gauntlet instead. But when he seemed unsure, Shadowheart changed the subject, asking instead, in that tone Lae'zel had begun to recognize as false casualness, “Did you ever meet a woman named Emmeline Hallowleaf? She used to do similar work to what you are now.”

Halsin blinked in surprise at the question, but then flashed her a brilliant smile. “Yes, of course! Lovely woman. Did you know her?”

“…only by reputation,” she answered uncomfortably, and Halsin gave a sort of wistful sigh.

“Ah, well, that's too bad. I think you would've gotten along. She was always–”

Lae'zel walked away, suddenly feeling as if she were intruding on a private conversation, and joined Wyll in keeping a lookout for any signs of danger instead. He gave her a genial nod and commented, “All clear still.”

“Good,” she answered, hoping to leave it at that. She preferred action to conversation, and throwing herself into a duty, even one as simple as watching, seemed like just what she needed right now. Unfortunately, Wyll was predictably of a different breed. He kept looking over at her instead of the horizon, clear concern in his expression.

“So how are you–”

“I don't want to talk about it,” she interrupted, and Wyll frowned but held up his hands in surrender.

“Fine,” he conceded, then allowed a slight smirk to come to his lips. “I'll ask about something else then. So… you and Shadowheart, eh? Can't say I saw that coming.”

Lae'zel did a double-take. Where had that come from? “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Really?” Wyll asked with clear amusement that turned her surprise into annoyance very quickly. “Did you think you were invisible in the tent last night?”

She scowled and practically threatened, “Don't be stupid. Nothing happened last night.”

“Oh, of course not.” She didn't care for how pleased he was with himself. Not at all, and she had half a mind to teach him her displeasure, when she noticed him looking back over her shoulder as he finished, “Nothing ever happens… until it does.”

Lae'zel turned around to see Shadowheart approaching and heard a quiet chuckle from Wyll. Shadowheart was patting the bag with her dwindling medical supplies in it and saying, “Your turn, Lae'zel.”

“I'm fine,” she answered, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Shadowheart stopped a few feet away and looked at her like she was an idiot. “You were shot.”

“It barely grazed me.”

“The bullet, you mean? I know you're not a medical expert, but it turns out even getting grazed by one of those is bad for your health.”

Wyll let out a full-throated laugh at that and patted Lae'zel on the shoulder as he started walking away, saying, “I'll leave you two to it. Maybe try to find a good spot to see past those cliffs over there.”

Lae'zel glared at his back until Shadowheart literally stepped into her line of vision, eyebrow raised expectantly. “Sit. You're not getting out of this.”

She grumbled but eventually squatted and allowed Shadowheart to remove the crude bandage Lae'zel had wrapped around her arm a few hours ago. She held back a wince as the sticky, red cloth pulled away from the skin. The wound wasn't deep, thankfully, but the line of it was fairly long and bled quite a bit.

“I think it's terminal,” Shadowheart said immediately, and Lae'zel just scoffed in reply, making her smile. “Joking. But it is going to leave a scar.”

“Good,” Lae'zel grumbled. “A reminder of today and the lessons I've learned. No one is above suspicion. Above temptation.”

Shadowheart was quiet for a while as she worked, cleaning and disinfecting the wound with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before. “So, what now?” she finally asked, the words slow and gentle, but Lae'zel didn't have an answer. Had in fact been battling with that exact question, as well as her desire not to think about that question at all, for hours now.

“This is going to need stitches,” Shadowheart commented, drawing out the needle and thread and then digging in her bag for something else. “I swear I have–”

“Just do it.” Lae'zel motioned with her hand impatiently. “No need to waste your supply of painkillers, when they might be needed later.” A few stitches was nothing, comparatively.

Shadowheart gave her an unsure look but eventually just shrugged and complied, mumbling only, “Always have to act so tough, don't you?”

Lae'zel almost bit out a retort… but the energy just wasn't there. Her entire world had been turned on its head today. She was a traitor in her people's eyes, her fellow soldiers now hunted her, and Vlaakith's own justice had proven to be as trustworthy as an asp and as tractable as a common cutpurse.

And yet there was no one in all of their vast nation who would take her word over his. Nowhere would be safe. Her life, as she had known it, was over, and all at one man's selfish whim.

“Come with us,” Shadowheart said, and Lae'zel blinked up at her, a bit lost. She wasn't looking back, eyes firmly locked on her hands as she worked, but she was blushing lightly. “I don't know if you had other ideas, but I think you should come with us. We're going to the one place those soldiers literally don't have a map to find, so you'll be safe there while you work out what to do next.”

Briefly, she met Lae'zel's eyes, before looking down again and continuing, “Plus, helping us will win you a lot of favor with Astarion's boss, and Cazador Szarr is a powerful man. His backing could help convince people that W’wargaz is the actual traitor here, not you.”

They were… sound points, Lae'zel had to admit. Shadowheart had really thought this through, maybe even more than Lae'zel had so far. Before she could comment on it though, they heard a whistle and turned to see Wyll returning from a nearby dune with a handful of mounted figures following. Her first instinct was to reach for a weapon, but oddly, he was giving the signal with his arms that everything was fine.

Lae'zel turned a confused look to Shadowheart, who seemed just as baffled. Thankfully, she was pretty much done with Lae'zel's arm, so she cleaned up her supplies, and the two of them stood and started cautiously approaching.

Of all of them though it was Liam, who had spent most of his rest talking with Karlach (or at least staring in awe as Karlach regaled him with some wild story about her devilish youth), that gave a great gasp and went running forward, his dirty blond hair flopping as he did so. He reached them just as the figures were dismounting and threw his arms around one of them in a hug, babbling so quickly Lae'zel could only catch a few words. Something like, “-they asked me all these questions about who you were and what we knew and where our camp was, but I didn't tell them anything!”

That ass Aradin, looking very uncomfortable in the embrace, awkwardly patted Liam on the back and muttered, “Sure. Good work, kid.” Then he very firmly extracted himself and finished walking toward the rest of them.

“Halsin,” he said with a nod to his former- current? -guide, and looked to each of them in order. “Well, look who made it out alive. Barely.”

“Just keeping the tradition going,” Karlach joked, and Aradin sneered at her.

“Not to sound… unexcited by the chance to catch up,” Gale tried, diplomatically. “But what are you doing here? I thought you said you were giving up on this whole mission and going back to town?”

Aradin spat into the sand and tugged on his horse’s reins when it tried to wander just a little too far from him. “No. I said I was giving up on going back to the Temple of the Moon. And now we don't have to.”

“Once we found our camp again,” the woman with him, Remira, added, “we moved close enough to stay hidden but keep an eye on the place. If you never came back out, we'd go home. If you did, we'd just meet up with you again and see what you learned.”

“And you actually found us, when all those soldiers couldn't?” Lae'zel asked, feeling mildly offended on behalf of the Legion hunting parties.

Wyll snorted, to Aradin's further annoyance, and explained, “Not exactly. They were headed right past us until I flagged them down. I figured if there were any more trouble, a couple of extra hands around could be useful.”

“So we're not going home?” Liam asked, clearly unsure but trying to hide it.

“With the payday Lorroakan’s offering us, and the hard part out of the way?” Aradin scoffed. “I don't see why we can't all work together. Be the best of friends. We're headed to the same place after all.”

Lae'zel didn't like it, and she could tell most of the others didn't either, but they could argue about it until the sun set and the forces of Camp Y'llek descended upon them, or they could just travel with these idiots for now and worry about how to ditch the annoyances later.

Or sooner, if Lae'zel had any say in it.

Chapter Text

Shadowheart’s sleep was not improving like she had hoped. If anything, it felt like it was getting more and more restless, and she woke up feeling more tired than ever each morning.

It didn't help that they were already staying up late into the evenings, consulting the stars and cross-referencing them with the images on the artifact, Gale's notes on the position of that old armillary sphere, and Wyll and Halsin’s knowledge of the terrain to work out their travel route for the following day. The process was both complicated and exhausting, but sadly, being exhausted both mentally and physically did not always lead to the deep sleep one might imagine, it turns out.

She'd found herself nodding off a bit while riding on her camel more than once.

Liam, of all people, had grabbed her shoulder once to stop her from slipping sideways right off her saddle. Then quickly retracted his hand and apologized once she was upright again. He was… nice.

So many of the people she was traveling with these days were nice, and Shadowheart found herself getting comfortable with it, appreciating it even, in a way she wasn't used to. If her one actual friend back home could see her now, she'd be astounded, and maybe a little proud?

And then there was Halsin, who had known her parents; not well of course, but in passing, and had even mentioned the idea of other relatives of her mother who perhaps still lived not far from his village. Before she had quickly changed the subject, feeling overwhelmed by that a bit.

And, speaking of overwhelmed, then there was Lae'zel, who… wasn't nice, but who was… something. Sturdy, maybe. Solid. And another subject she often found herself avoiding even in her own mind and refusing to consider too deeply.

Instead, she focused on the task at hand. Following the map as best as they could, they had traveled for several days now between and around various rocky hills and cliffsides, across vast stretches of open sand, and even down into and through a deep canyon that must have once contained a river long, long ago. But now they were at a bit of an impasse.

Gale swore up and down that according to the map, they should be at the Gauntlet of Shar already, but as they all stood on nothing but a massive, sun-baked plane, they'd been forced to stop and reassess.

Aradin, who had ended up sticking with them this far after all, was also swearing, but none of that was helpful so he was mostly ignored. His crew primarily stuck to themselves, other than Liam, who Karlach seemed to have taken under her wing a bit, trying to teach him the finer points of being a complete and utter rapscallion in your youth, while you can still get away with it.

Her own crew, on the other hand, were at least attempting to be helpful, going over their route so far and each constellation they had followed to create it. “Maybe it should have been the Centaur then the Woman Warrior?” Shadowheart offered, but Gale shook his head.

“No, no,” he disagreed. “If it had been that, the whole rest of the sequence would be off, and we'd have noticed two days ago, not right at the end.”

“Unless the problem is something deeper than that,” Halsin rumbled in his soft, low voice, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.

“Or it doesn't exist at all!” Aradin shouted, kicking sand. “And this whole thing was a bloody waste of time!”

That had been a possibility they discussed when this whole adventure had just begun, but now they had been through so much to get here, the idea felt like so much more of a gut-punch. None of them could even muster a response.

For her part, Shadowheart was holding the artifact itself, looking it over for errors they might have made but mostly focused on the last symbol they had followed. One they had interpreted to be a constellation known in some places as the Shard of Selune, funny enough. These Ancient Anaurians were poetic if nothing else.

Nothing about the symbol seemed particularly helpful in showing how they might have misunderstood it though. Other than a few stylistic flourishes, nothing else about the design of it really stood out, and the artifact was, as she always was impressed by, in marvelous condition for its age, other than a few tiny nicks and scratches. Gently, she rubbed her thumb against the warm metal of it, thinking.

And then stopped.

“Gale,” she called, watching as he turned from his huddle with the others. “This panel isn't damaged.”

Utterly baffled, Gale tilted his head and looked at her as if the lack of sleep were getting to her. Which might be fair, but still. “That's great.”

“No.” Shadowheart grumbled and approached, showing him the panel of the artifact that showed the Shard of Selune. “Look. Those two little scratches at the bottom? I don't think they're damage, I think they were put there on purpose. Feel them. They're too regular.”

Interested now, Gale took the device and felt the markings she had indicated, the way the edges felt deliberately carved into this shape, rather than accidental. One line perfectly vertical and the other slightly tilted toward it. Then he laughed, bright and excited, “You know, I think you might be right! This is a message! This is–”

He turned back and forth, searching the ground, the sky, all around him for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “There!” he shouted and pointed, and everyone followed his gaze to a rock formation maybe half a mile away. A hill with two tall spires of stone in front of it. One standing tall and proud, and the other a bit more broken down, lightly slumped in toward its twin. “We need to go there!”

They all mounted up once more, as evening slowly turned to night and disappointment into excitement, and they rode to the spot directly between the two pillars of stone. Gale was calling out things to look for that might give away an entrance to the hidden temple, but not a word of it proved to be necessary.

“Look,” Halsin breathed what felt like only moments after they arrived, before the rest of them had barely begun to search. And Shadowheart turned, not even yet dismounted, following his gaze not toward the stone spires as she expected, but back across the open landscape… where, in the last light of the setting sun and the gentle glow of the waxing moon, something seemed practically to appear out of thin air, like a mirage to a traveler dying of thirst.

Some distance away, what had looked for all the hours it had sat on the eastern horizon to be nothing more than a low, dull mesa now shifted before her eyes, like the revealing of a message in invisible ink, showing subtle signs of the work of human hands. A facing just a bit too smooth and regular to be natural stone, shadows that exposed the presence of hidden windows… or a curve that just might be the lintel of a gateway. All together she was struck with the impression of the ghost of a grand cathedral haunting these simple sandstone cliffs.

Shadowheart had been looking right at the Gauntlet all day and not even known it.

A feeling of elation, tinged with just a hint of dread, welled up in her, even as she watched the sun fully set and the signs of the hidden temple disappear, turning it back to a simple rocky plateau once more. If they had stood anywhere but this exact spot, or arrived at it an hour earlier or later, they would have missed it entirely, she was sure.

“My god,” Gale said in wonder, and Shadowheart nearly jumped at the reminder that anything existed out here but her and the Gauntlet. When she looked, their entire traveling party wore similar expressions of astonishment. All except for–

“Hey, Gith!” Aradin called, roughly nudging his horse to the front of the group with a self-satisfied smirk. “Five hundred crowns says one of my lot makes it there before any of yours.”

Lae'zel scowled at that. The two of them had been butting heads almost since the moment they had met up again, and the fact that Aradin hadn't already been ditched in a gully somewhere was fully against Lae'zel's objections. “A fool and his money are always quickly parted,” she said, and his smirk only widened.

“That sounds like a bet to me.” And then he was off like a shot, spurring his horse into a gallop.

Lae'zel growled out a quiet oath, clearly tensed with the urge to give chase and prove her superiority, but resisting to prove some silly point. At least right up until Karlach shouted, “Fucking get him!” and Lae'zel felt free enough to drive her own mount to a run.

Karlach and a few of the others also seemed keen to join the race, but most had dismounted to search around the stone pillars, so Aradin, Lae'zel, and even Shadowheart in a distant third were far ahead of them already. Night may have fallen, but the moon was so full and bright that even without the sun they could clearly see the entirety of the path ahead of them, and any subtle apprehension evaporated from Shadowheart's mind with the thrill of the wind whipping through her hair and the joy of finally reaching their elusive quarry. The discovery of a lifetime, and she had helped to make it possible!

At the end of this short ride, something truly wondrous awaited them, just like her parents had experienced any number of times in this very desert. It was a dizzying thought.

She could still hear Karlach cheering her and Lae'zel on from some distance back and even a few of the others joining in, and Shadowheart found herself laughing out loud. Especially when she noticed Aradin's lead begin to slowly shrink.

His horse may have been faster in a track race, but out in these sands after a day’s hard ride with little time for rest? Shadowheart could see it tiring, and though she felt a bit bad for the creature, she still felt a triumphant thrill when she saw Aradin look back and realize Lae'zel’s camel had almost caught up.

He kicked at the poor beast he rode, trying to push it into a new burst of speed, and when that failed, he started kicking at Lae'zel herself.

Shadowheart shouted at him, but her words were lost to the wind. Lae'zel's camel was taller than the horse, but Aradin was significantly larger than her, and as they drew neck-and-neck, he tried to use his weight to his advantage and shove at her. She was having none of it though, grabbing onto his wrist and twisting it at a painful angle, before their mounts pulled away from one another and her grip slipped away.

Aradin wasn't done though, yelling something Shadowheart couldn't hear and pulling the horse close again to grab at Lae'zel's leg and try to yank her free from her saddle. With a snarl, and presumably a curse of her own, she kicked him hard in the side and reached out to fist the back of his shirt collar, dragging him along as her mount once again pulled away from his.

He flailed and dangled, only one foot halfway in a stirrup anymore as he reached around for Lae'zel’s arm, but then with a jerk, she shoved him free, and Aradin went tumbling end over end in the sand as both of them rode past.

She gave a triumphant cry at his fall! But unfortunately for Lae'zel, their little scuffle had also slowed her down quite a bit, and while she was busy celebrating, Shadowheart rode past them both. “Better luck next time!” she called, and the look of shock and betrayal on Lae'zel's face made Shadowheart laugh again as they covered the last stretch of sand before they reached the mesa.

Her pace slowed as she drew almost into its shadow, turning to gloat at what she was certain would be a furious Lae'zel, but instead Shadowheart found an expression on her face she'd never seen before. It was surprised, sure, but also… pleased? And maybe even a little impressed.

It brought her up short a bit, and Shadowheart realized after a moment that the two of them were just staring at one another and smiling as they finally came to a stop, but she couldn't quite get herself to look away. The moment felt… charged, in a way she wasn't used to.

But then Karlach and the others came screaming in beside them. “Hell yes!” she was hooting excitedly. “Go team… us! Why don't we have a team name? We need a team name!”

“Nice work,” Wyll added, and most of the others chimed in with their agreement. Their attention, however, quickly migrated to the unforgiving wall of stone in front of them that cleverly hid the temple they had been hunting for so long. They knew an entrance lay somewhere nearby, but even with the generous moonlight, they decided it would be best to wait until dawn to start searching for it in earnest and began to set up camp.

Aradin, of course, was as gracious a loser as Shadowheart had expected once Liam helped him catch up with the rest of the group, sulkily setting up his tent as far from them as possible and refusing to let Shadowheart check him over for sprains or anything from his fall.

Whatever. Not even he could ruin the mood in the camp tonight.

Chapter Text

The next morning Gale prepared something of a congratulatory breakfast. Perhaps it was the tiniest bit premature, their job here wasn't quite done after all, but he argued it was close enough to not be stingy on the better of their rations for once.

Depending on the conditions they found inside, it was entirely possible they could be done here in a single day. In the end their job, as per the contract, did not depend on them finding a single treasure or artifact. Even the Song of Night, while definitely of interest to Astarion's benefactor, was not strictly a requirement for the completion of their work here. They just needed to confirm that this was indeed a lost temple dedicated to Shar, then do some light surveying of the layout and its condition and structural integrity, so that a larger team could be brought in to truly comb the site for… whatever parts of places like this interested men like Cazador Szarr.

But there was a buzz of energy among their group. Shadowheart could feel it, especially in herself. She'd finally, finally had a good night's sleep for the first time in what felt like weeks, and she felt ready to go over every inch of this wondrous place they'd found themselves in. To uncover all of its secrets! And the others seemed to feel it too.

Even Astarion begrudgingly admitted some curiosity over what they might find inside, besides just piles of gold and jewels.

And then, when Aradin and his group got up from their own separate breakfast and began to search for the entrance they had distantly glimpsed somewhere along these cliffs, Gale called out to them, “Wait! We don't know the conditions we're going to find inside. I think it might be best if we all stick together, for safety.”

Aradin turned and rolled his eyes. “I'm sure you do think that.” He motioned for the others to keep looking, then continued, “Look, you done us a good turn out there before, but let's not pretend it's because you just love our company. Trust me, feeling's mutual. And when we get to the end of this, there's only one Song of Night.”

“True,” Gale said with a frown. “But a historical artifact can have more than one person credited with its discovery. Certainly your employer and ours can come to some kind of agreement, if we can?”

“And risk missing out on the sort of paycheck I've been offered? Or even half of it? I think I'll take my chances without your help.” Then he narrowed his eyes at someone by their fire and called, “Halsin! Don't forget, you're our guide, not theirs. And we might still need you to read things in there. You know, guide us? Come on.”

Halsin didn't look happy about the attitude, but he thought about it a moment and stood, stretching his massive arms in preparation for the work ahead and confirming, “He's not wrong. I did make a commitment, and I should see it through. Good luck though.”

They watched him walk away and join the others, only Liam looking back and mouthing a quick apology.

“Well… that could be a problem,” Wyll mumbled, cleaning up after the meal. “What do you suppose we do about it?”

“We could just kill him,” Lae'zel suggested, making Shadowheart huff a quiet laugh.

“Or we could just find the book before he does,” she replied with amusement, and Lae'zel grumbled but, glancing her way, shrugged in acquiescence.

Shadowheart smiled in return.

“I like the idea. But what's the plan?” Karlach piped in, drawing her completely stolen attention to the rest of the party once more. Ugh, what was Shadowheart doing, making eyes at anyone on this job? Especially Lae'zel, who could barely stand to be around her most of the time, and who she felt the same about in return. Or… had? Nevermind, this was ridiculous.

When Gale cleared his throat, as if preparing to speak, Shadowheart focused fully on him, driving out all other distractions and diversions. “Well,” he started, “nearly all the stories about this place make mention of a grand vault where one of the great Anaurian kings decided to store his vast wealth for safekeeping. And I suppose I can see why given how hard this place has been to find. Signs of the vault would probably be a safe place to begin a search for the Song of Night, though I do have a few other theories if that route doesn't work out.”

“Such as?” Astarion asked, eyebrow raised expectantly, but Gale fumbled a bit over an answer, looking a little embarrassed and awkward suddenly.

“I think in this case, I'd rather wait and see what's inside before I start tossing wild theories about,” he eventually managed, stiffly standing and gathering his things.

The behavior was perhaps a bit odd, but Shadowheart had little time to think on it. As everyone followed suit, preparing themselves for a delve into the unknown, she found that every time she looked up, for some reason Lae'zel was glowering at her like Shadowheart had just broken her favorite… knife? Or whatever sort of material object Lae'zel might cherish.

She tried to ignore it at first, but eventually she began to feel that glare boring into her even when she wasn't looking and snapped, “What?”

Warily, she watched as Lae'zel approached her, a stormcloud in human form and growing darker every step. Then she stopped and the two of them just stood there, glaring at each other, until Lae'zel thrust a bundle of leather into Shadowheart's arms and grumbled, “I thought you might… find a use for this. Or not. It makes no difference to me.”

And then she was gone, stomping back across the camp and growling, “What are you looking at?” in Wyll's direction as she passed him. He looked to be holding back a laugh.

Finally, Shadowheart got over her shock enough to look down at what she was holding and slowly unfold it. Inside, held in place by a number of little leather straps, was a basic set of emergency medical tools and supplies. Some of which Shadowheart already had, but others she had begun to run low on or had lost or ruined in their escape from the Nautilus.

The design was clearly Gith in origin (the bag even had the name “Stornugoss” stitched along one edge?), but this wasn't something Astarion had pilfered for her back in Y'llek… Which meant it must have already been in Lae'zel’s bags before their meeting with the Inquisitor, something she'd been intending to give Shadowheart all this time maybe but had been struggling to actually go through with?

She looked over to where Lae'zel was adjusting a small pack on her shoulder, gaze traveling everywhere but back at her, and Shadowheart felt another wave of… something. A feeling that was both pleasant and little discomfiting, which was a juxtaposition she had been experiencing unusually frequently of late.

“Alright, people!” Karlach brightly interrupted her thoughts. “Time to get grave-robbing!” And they set off around the edges of the mesa, searching for a hidden entrance to the structure that awaited them beyond. Just… in the opposite direction Aradin had gone. They finally had a break away from him for the first time in days, and everyone seemed content to leave it that way for the time being.

Fortunately, those subtle architectural features that were nearly invisible from a distance were much easier for those who were up close and knew what they were looking for to distinguish. And it wasn't long before Wyll was pointing out a large slab of stone that was clearly carved by human hands.

“Is this the entrance?” Astarion asked skeptically, looking it over. “It seems a little… plain. I was expecting something a bit more impressive.”

“It's an entrance, I think,” Gale answered as he climbed a pile of sand and stones that partially buried the slab. Clearly there must have been some rockfall from above over the years, and it was going to be a bit of a project if they decided to try and get in this way. “Probably there would have been a grand entranceway once, though whether it's still intact today remains to be seen. Either way, this is not that.”

He blew at the rock wall just above the slab, creating a small cloud of dust, then drew a small brush from his pack and began to swipe it at the same spot with a frown.

“What is it?” Shadowheart asked, watching Gale’s expression dip further in concern.

“A lintel. There's definitely a passage behind this slab.” He put the brush away and replaced it with a piece of paper and pencil, with which he began to make a rubbing of some writing or symbols she couldn't identify from her position. “The design is older than I would expect from the period the Gauntlet is supposed to have been built though, which I guess makes some sense. The temple was said to have been added to a structure that already existed. A tomb of sorts, for the final rest of a prominent noble family.”

Finally Gale climbed back down and showed them the paper, which held several gibberish characters Shadowheart had no idea how to read, obviously. “If I had to guess,” he continued, “I'd say that's what we've found. The original entrance to the oldest part of the complex, the mausoleum. Most of this is too faded to read easily, but where the name of the family should be has clearly been carved away for some reason and replaced with another symbol.”

He pointed to it, a simple sort of ring with a line at the bottom that made Shadowheart think a little of a setting sun, and she asked the obvious question, “Which means…?”

“Infinity,” Gale answered gravely. “I'm not sure what to make of the symbol itself in this context, but the name being removed at all is disconcerting. To be remembered after death was of vital importance to the Anaurians of this age, so this seems like the greatest of insults… or punishments.”

There was a clatter as Karlach climbed up to the slab next and looked it over less like a puzzle for the historical record and more like a big rock that was in their way. “That's really interesting and all,” she commented without even attempting to sound sincere. “But are we moving this, or are we moving on? Because we might as well get started now, either way.”

Together they managed in unexpectedly good time to dig out enough room for the slab to be slid, inch by grinding inch, off to one side, leaving behind a gap large enough for any of them to easily fit through. Of course, most of the heavy lifting was done by Karlach and Lae'zel, but Shadowheart did her best to contribute and not get too distracted glancing over at the two of them as they hoisted and flexed. And everyone, except Astarion who somehow managed to look busy but accomplish nothing, ended up sweaty and exhausted by the end.

The soft, cool breeze that blew from the dark entrance behind the slab might have even been refreshing if it didn't carry the stale smell of very old, dusty tombs. Assuming the other entrances were as well-sealed as this one, the air they breathed was more than three-thousand years old, and the weight of that really seemed to hit Shadowheart for the first time, causing her to hesitate.

But Astarion did not, lighting his lantern and stepping into the ancient, stone passage with little comment other than, “I thought you said this was the tomb of some important noble. Shouldn't it be all fancy and pompous?”

“Typically, yes,” Gale answered as he followed inside, the two of them peering around at the bare walls. “It is a bit odd for there to be so little ornamentation. But perhaps any decorative items were simply moved further in once the temple was constructed.” He touched the rough limestone wall lightly, frowning. “No carvings or paintings either though.”

They all pressed on, finding the rest of the tomb beyond that first passage much the same. Stark and empty, to the point that Gale had to reassure them several times that the seal on the entrance showed no signs of robbers finding their way in and clearing the place out already. It was just a very unusually sparse mausoleum, for some reason.

In the end, the only things of note inside were a handful of very plain sarcophagi, an obligatory symbol on one wall honoring the Judge of the Dead, and an inscription carved into a pair of collapsed stone doors that would have once blocked the way into further depths of the Gauntlet. Some of it was cracked beyond reading, presumably from the fall from their original placement, but what Gale could decipher from the rest seemed to be a retelling of the story of this place. That what had once been a simple mausoleum for a single family was converted into something greater after a calamity or… plague perhaps? Gale struggled with the translation of that part. But whatever the event, it was interpreted as a curse from the goddess Shar for some slight against her, and so a temple in her honor was built, deep in the dark away from sight of both the sun and the moon.

Some of it they already knew, but it was interesting to get a bit more context. Shadowheart couldn't help thinking though, about these people's relationship with their gods. Seeing the terrors and pains of life as punishments for their own inadequacies, and then dedicating God knows how many years and how much wealth and manpower to appeasing and apologizing for presumed sins. Was that better or worse than the acts done in God's name by today's faithful?

“No mention of the vault?” Astarion pouted. The fact that they had come across nothing of value in here yet had put him in a bit of a mood, and Gale’s assurances that they had already found much to be added to the world's wealth of knowledge did not cheer him at all. Nor did the short lecture that followed on the architectural implications of the stonework here, which included features that wouldn't become popular until centuries after the construction of the tomb ought to have taken place.

“No mention,” Gale confirmed, but he didn't sound worried. “The vault likely would have been added years after the main temple and this inscription though, so it's not surprising.”

Shadowheart was only half-listening, her attention pulled further into the passage beyond by an odd sound she couldn't place. Had Aradin's crew already found their own way in and begun fumbling around in the dark? She cautiously moved forward to see, her own lantern lighting the way.

As Gale had said, these halls did look noticeably more polished than the first, of a slightly different design as if they came from a later era, and they held a number of decorative sconces and other flourishes as well. There were even paintings along the walls, mostly in deep purples and blues and black, though they were faded and flaked in this area beyond Shadowheart’s ability to interpret.

Thick cracks ran across certain portions of the floor and walls, as if the stone had shifted over the millennia since it had been carved, and the sound led her not to the end of this hall but halfway down. To a place where one of the cracks had split into something greater, and a portion of the wall collapsed right through into a more natural-looking cavern with the thinnest beam of sunlight cutting down from high above.

High above where the strange noise seemed to emanate from, and where, just at the edge of her lantern light, she could see the ceiling… moving ever so slightly. Bats, she realized. And a lot of them. They must have made their home here, using the crack in the ceiling to fly out and do their nighttime hunting.

Shadowheart had no problem with bats, but it did raise the question of what other creatures might have used the same or similar gaps to gain entrance to this place. Something to keep an eye out for, she supposed.

The voices of her companions still echoed down the hall, unintelligible from here but comforting in a way that made Shadowheart somehow uncomfortable, and instead of returning, she chose to walk just a little further into the dark alone. Not far, just enough to see the next chamber and report back, she told herself.

There was something about this place that was at once incredibly alien and oddly familiar, though there was no way she could have ever visited this place before... right? Obviously it was just something about the atmosphere. She had felt it before when walking through the Temple of the Moon, on their way to that basement chamber where the artifact had once been found. Though that had been much brighter, with its great windows and partly collapsed walls allowing the light of the sun and moon to reach inside at all hours of the day. In both cases there was a sort of… weight, a solemnity, that seemed inherent to so many places of worship, quieting the thoughts and concerns of mortal life and seeking to ready the soul for communion with the divine.

And Shadowheart felt it now, stepping out of the hall and into a massive chamber that could be nothing but a cathedral. If there had been furniture here once, it had long since rotted away or been buried. There were signs of damage in this chamber as well, some piles of rubble from certain parts of the walls or ceiling and even a long, dark gap in the floor, perhaps caused by an earthquake in the distant past? She was no geologist, so it was hard to say. But the beauty and grandeur of this vaulted chamber remained, despite the damage.

Of all of it though, the thing that drew her attention most was a statue on a low plinth not far from where she had entered. It was clearly meant to be feminine, but the figure bore no distinguishing signs at all. No symbols, no marks of office or role, not even a face. There was just a blank slate staring back at her, though the plinth beneath did seem to have some sort of writing along one side. Shadowheart tentatively knelt at the statue's feet and brushed some of the dust from it with her hand, regarding the strange and ancient words with a sort of trepidatious curiosity.

“I am nothing. I am the empty room. The dreamless sleep. The shadow's shadow.”

Shadowheart nearly leapt out of her skin at the voice behind her, jumping to her feet and spinning so fast she almost tripped over the plinth. Behind her, Gale stood shocked, muttering, “Sorry. That's, um… what it says. Didn't realize you hadn't heard us following.”

“It's fine,” she gasped, hand over her rapidly beating heart. “I guess I just spaced out for a moment there.”

“I'm just glad to see you're okay,” Wyll said from a few steps behind Gale with a concerned smile. “Maybe warn us next time before you wander off by yourself?”

Shadowheart nodded vaguely and went back to looking around the room. There were several rooms and passages leading off from here in various directions, and she hadn't the first clue where any of them led.

“Any ideas on where to go from here?”

Chapter Text

Most of the chambers leading off from the central cathedral were not large, and they contained no obvious passages deeper, though what they saw inside was interesting enough on its own. A maze-like series of corridors, what appeared almost to be a small arena for combat, a room where the walls sparkled in the light of their lanterns, and so on. Testing grounds, Shadowheart had remembered from her study into this on the boat, for those who wished to prove their devotion to Shar and join the ranks of her clergy.

The party had little idea how the tests were meant to actually work, and as interested as some of them might be in finding out, there was no guarantee that doing so now would be a safe or timely task. And quickly finding the Song of Night had apparently become their priority, so beyond brief glimpses, they left these rooms more or less untouched and carried on until they came across a staircase leading down.

The dust there looked recently disturbed, and after a moment the sounds of familiar voices echoed up to them from below.

Lae'zel clicked her tongue in irritation, and Shadowheart had to agree. Unfortunately, they had little choice but to go down and investigate this passage as well, and as they began to descend, the voices only grew louder and clearer. It sounded like Aradin and Remira were arguing over what to do next, while Liam tried to calm them both down.

“Sorry,” they heard Remira saying with sneer, “can we hear it one more time?”

This was followed by a heavy sigh from Halsin, who answered as if slowly reading, “The way is sealed by royal and heavenly decree, to remain untouched for all of eternity. And to whosoever, in defiance, enters this path… a curse awaits you. A darkness to swallow all that you hold dear, a walking void, an unholy plague upon mankind.”

There was a moment of silence, a shiver shooting up Shadowheart’s spine, and then Remira asked, “Does that sound like the kind of place you want to go?”

“Yes,” Aradin insisted. “Because curses ain't real. But it sounds like exactly the kind of warning you’d put over a place you didn't want anyone to go. Like a vault full of all your treasure.”

“Knock, knock!” Karlach called as they rounded the final corner, and Aradin and Remira both spun, drawing their weapons and prompting Karlach and Lae'zel to instinctively do the same.

“Back off,” Aradin growled. “This is ours.”

“Your what? Your pile of rubble?” Lae'zel replied, eyes locked on him but clearly able to make out that the passage behind him was completely collapsed beyond a doorway with a split plaque Halsin must have been reading from before. He was still stood next to it, now eying this standoff intently.

“Our vault. It's just beyond here. We just need to clear the path. And we got here first.”

Lae'zel almost smiled, “With fewer numbers and no path of escape.” Which did not improve Aradin's mood, shockingly.

This was quickly headed somewhere ugly. Hell, even Astarion had a miniature pistol in his hand that Shadowheart had no idea he'd ever even carried. So she swallowed once and slowly, but as confidently as she could, stepped forward and reached out to Lae'zel's weapon, lowering it. “Alright, children,” she said in her best admonishing schoolteacher voice. “That's enough. We can take our toys and play separately for now, no need to break them just because we have a disagreement.”

Lae'zel shot her a look of irritation mixed with concern... but allowed herself to be defused. Then Shadowheart motioned with her hands, and everyone else slowly did the same. “We thought maybe we could try one more time to offer working together, but if that's not going to work, there are plenty of other rooms we can go check out,” she concluded, and Aradin let out an unkind laugh.

“That's right,” he added. “Listen to your pretty little girlfriend, Gith. Wouldn't want her to get hurt in the crossfire.”

Lae'zel growled in his direction, but Shadowheart grabbed her roughly by the arm and began to drag her away. “Forget him,” she hissed, and kept walking until they were all out of earshot.

Then she looked to Gale and quietly confirmed, “You said there are other places the book might be besides the vault, right? Because it seems like it might be better to make those Plan A, instead of B.”

He still seemed slightly shaken by that brief yet intense encounter, but their expert historian managed to confirm after a moment, “Yes, I think so. It's… possible that the vault was only intended for the material objects held here, not things of a more spiritual value like the Song of Night.”

“I do love material objects,” Astarion added thoughtfully. “But I suppose we are looking for something specific. Maybe we can do both before the trip is through?”

“Maybe,” Gale laughed tightly, running a hand through his hair. “The story goes that those among the clergy who were given special permission to even see the Song of Night would have to undergo several trials and then be taken for judgment in the shadow of Shar herself.”

At blank looks all around, he sighed and with a bit of a blush clarified, “Most of the scholars I've read or spoken to about this have been pretty dismissive of this sort of interpretation, but I have a theory that it means the book might be kept directly underneath the statue of Shar in the main cathedral. In her shadow.”

“That's great, Gale!” Wyll cheered, patting him on the shoulder.

“Well, yes, except that underneath the statue there's just a six foot wide plinth of solid stone.”

“Ah, that's… less great,” Wyll said quietly.

Karlach kicked at a couple of rocks on the ground and blew out an annoyed breath, “So it's more digging then, is it?”

“Welcome to Archaeology 101,” Gale quipped, but no one laughed. “Uh, yes, assuming the book is actually sealed inside or under the plinth, we will need to dig through it.”

“Or we could blow it open in six seconds,” Karlach suggested hopefully, but Gale paled in response.

“And risk damaging the book with explosives, as well as the structural integrity of the room? Best not.”

She sighed and hoisted one of the pickaxes they had brought for just this sort of occasion. “Yeah, I figured. But a girl's gotta try.”

When they reached the statue again, she and Lae'zel took turns chipping away at the stone, but were slowed a bit by the need to break through and find any hidden pockets underneath without toppling the entire statue of Shar down on themselves. Gale supervised of course, but unless they tired enough to ask her to take a turn eventually, there was little for Shadowheart to contribute in that moment.

Instead, she started looking into a few of the side rooms and passages that they had paid little mind to before. One or two were completely collapsed and inaccessible, and another, based on the tracks, she deduced to be the entrance Aradin and his crew had entered by. It was honestly a little surreal to be walking through this place, seeing the same sights, touching the same walls as the faithful that had occupied it so very long ago.

Then she came upon a chamber that was rather large but plain, containing little more than a number of stone slabs and some broken bits of pottery in a corner. What it might have been used for she couldn't say, but something in the air of the room felt heavy, with the slightest hint of an oily smell... Or perhaps that was just in her head.

In the light of her lantern, she made a slow circle of the room, trying to find more details to guide her, but there was little to go on. Once again, there were images painted along some parts of the walls, but they made little sense to Shadowheart, other than that some of them seemed to involve rituals beneath a moonless night sky. At least until she found a more or less completely rotted wooden box on the opposite end of the chamber, only a few bits of bronze ornamentation from it truly left intact. Ornamentation that once again bore the symbol of the Judge of the Dead.

“Find anything fun?” Astarion asked from the door. Thankfully, Shadowheart had noticed his light source approaching first, so she didn't have another near heart attack.

Instead, she shrugged and started walking his way. “The remains of a wooden sarcophagus, if you count that as fun. I think this is the chamber where they did the mummification.”

“Oh,” he said, as if what he really meant was ‘ew,’ and stepped a little further from the stone slab he’d been looking at. “You mean all that business where they ripped out your guts and stuffed them in little jars?”

“And then they took out your heart as well,” she added, with a teasing smile. “Oh, and you know how they take out your brain?”

“I don't think I want to.”

“They take a sharp, red hot poker, stick it up your nose, scramble things about a bit, and then rip it all out through your nostrils.”

“How pleasant,” he noted with a shiver, and Shadowheart laughed a little to herself.

“Well, it's a very important part of the process if you want to become immortal.” She was eyeing the paintings on the wall again, a new context in mind for these rituals depicted in them with many figures lying prone on the ground. An honorable end for these faithful worshipers, she hoped. “Your soul would struggle to continue on if your body wasn't properly preserved. Thankfully, you'd already be dead when they did all of that.”

Astarion scoffed and leaned against the wall, flipping something small and shiny into the air and catching it again. “For the record, if I don't make it out of here, don't put me down for mummification. Find some other way to make me immortal.”

“What's that?” Shadowheart asked, eying the unusual trinket in his hand, and Astarion allowed a cheeky little smile and a raised eyebrow of feigned surprise.

“Oh, this old thing?” He lifted it up so she could see what appeared to be a small, dark purple crystal. “I'm not actually sure. They're decorating the wall in one of the other rooms, so I thought I'd have a look at one in the sunlight later, see if gathering the rest will be worth the effort.”

Shadowheart had never seen a crystal exactly like this one before, and even as she peered closer, trying to make sense of it, Astarion suddenly yanked his arm back with a cry, flicking the wrist as if to toss the thing across the room. Only… it didn't go. The crystal remained stuck to his palm as it began to wriggle slightly and crack along one edge. And that was when it struck her.

Not a crystal. A chrysalis.

Some sort of dark, squirming insect was hatching from that shell and had bitten into the meat of Astarion's hand before it had even fully escaped. “Get off!” he was shouting, trying to slap the thing free, but the grip of its mandibles held tight.

Shock and disgust squirmed down the back of her neck, but Shadowheart leapt forward to help, only to see just as she grabbed Astarion's wrist that the little beetle had bitten a deep gash into his hand and begun crawling inside him! His screaming became more frantic as both of them tried desperately to grab the back end of the creature and yank it out, but slick from its cocoon, it slid right out of her hands and into his, the visible shape of it pushing painfully around under his skin.

“Do something! Do something!” Astarion was wailing now, trying to grab the thing through his own flesh as it scuttled up his wrist and into his forearm, but he was starting to look faint, and though Shadowheart had no idea how much damage a thing like this could do to the human body, she was not ready to find out right now! Instead, her hands flew to the bag at her side, the new one she'd just received this morning, and yanked free a scalpel.

“Not that!” he switched to as she used the blade to make a quick incision right in front of where the beetle was climbing, immediately following it with a pair of forceps she dug not so gently into the wound to pinch around the horrible little beast and finally yank it out. Astarion gave one more shout of pain and relief mixed, then turned even paler than usual and promptly fell to the floor.

Shadowheart had no more hands to try to catch him with, unfortunately, still holding onto her bloody surgical tools and staring at the terrible thing she had clasped in one of them. It was disturbingly strong as it fought to pull free, and slick as it was with gore, she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her hold, so Shadowheart tossed the thing to the ground instead and stomped it hard beneath her boot. Once. Twice. And a third time just to be sure.

When she saw that it was definitely dead and splattered across the floor, Shadowheart finally allowed herself to breathe and dropped down next to Astarion to begin checking on him. First making sure he hadn't hit his head as he'd fainted, and then checking on his arm, both the entry and exit wounds and the abused skin in-between.

Thankfully, it could have been a lot worse, but as Astarion came to again a few moments later, their mutual panic told her it had already been bad enough, thank you very much. “Can we finish this outside?” he asked desperately, and Shadowheart could not agree more, taping a bit of gauze over the wounds temporarily and then helping him on wobbly legs return to the others and insist they call it for the day and head back to camp.

Gale seemed reluctant at first, until he saw all the blood and decided maybe they were right.

By the time they actually made it out into the waning sunlight, Shadowheart was unsure how much of Astarion's distress was real anymore and how much was just him milking it for sympathy. But she dutifully worked to patch up the wound and only patiently rolled her eyes every time he made a pitiful little whimper of pain or asked someone to fetch him something.

Between that and Gale’s insistence on knowing absolutely everything about this strange, new insect species he'd never heard of, it was dark by the time Shadowheart actually got to sit and get some rest. She had already washed the blood from her hands, but as she went to grab a drink from her canteen, she found her fingers were shaking so much she struggled to get the cap open.

Then suddenly, someone was taking it from her hands and doing it for her. She glanced up, somehow unsurprised to find Lae'zel sitting in front of her. “Thanks,” Shadowheart said as she drank, not up to much witty repartee at the moment. “And… for the bag. It came in handy a lot faster than I thought it would.”

“I'm glad,” Lae'zel answered simply.

“Me too.” And Shadowheart found that she meant it. If not for those tools, that encounter could have gone a lot worse. And if something truly terrible had happened to Astarion… If it happened to any of these idiots…

She looked around at the group of them. At Wyll and Gale looking after Astarion as he lounged dramatically, at Karlach who seemed once again to be checking in on Liam now that his crew had also returned from inside the temple. All her life she'd known that caring about people was how you got hurt. They either turned out to not be worth the care you put into them and hurt you that way, or they disappeared from your life in some horrible fashion and hurt you that way instead.

Maybe that was the appeal of loving a god. They couldn't exactly lie or cheat on you or die in an automobile accident, could they?

And yet here she was. Only a few weeks into knowing these weirdos, and she already cared so much more than she wanted to admit. Shadowheart took a deep breath, finally feeling the shaking of her hands settle, and peered up into Lae'zel's eyes, which looked almost yellow reflecting the small campfire Wyll had started.

“Look,” she said, swallowing thickly. “Lae'zel, I–”

The loud, sharp whinny of a horse cut through the silence of the night, and then suddenly there were screams and shouts from all sides in the darkness, as scarved figures on horseback charged into the circle of light around their camp, rifles raised.

Chapter Text

Who fired the first shot was a mystery. In certain situations, there can be so many guns going off at once that those sorts of distinctions become completely irrelevant in any practical sense. Weapons were aimed. Then weapons were firing.

Lae'zel's among them, as she dragged Shadowheart through her tent and out the other end, bullets whizzing through the canvas but unable to find them. On the other side was a large boulder they were able to duck behind as she reloaded. She could hear Karlach shouting some very creative threats and someone from Aradin's crew cheering like they were fucking cowboys, but Lae'zel had to focus on her immediate surroundings for now.

One of the riders came charging round toward them, but her draw was faster and blasted him right out of his saddle and onto Gale’s tent, which collapsed in around him. The mess of it still wriggled slightly, so it might not have been a killing blow, but she didn't have time to worry about that just yet.

She leaned out just enough to get a glimpse of the battlefield and take a couple of shots, then pulled back again. “I'm going to make an opening,” she said to Shadowheart. “And you'll run for the tomb entrance.”

“What? No!” Shadowheart protested, but Lae'zel didn't let her finish.

“It's fine. I'll make sure they aren't paying you any attention.”

Shadowheart shoved her hard enough that Lae'zel looked back in shock, as she bit out, “I'm not worried that they'll see me, you idiot! I'm just not running off alone and leaving all of you.”

“That– Shit.” Her argument was cut off as several more figures rose up out of the dark, and the two of them were forced to move, running back across this side of the camp to a stack of heavy stones they could use as cover. The light from the camp was growing brighter, and Lae'zel belatedly realized that it was because several of their tents were now on fire.

And somehow on the way across camp Shadowheart had picked up a rifle apparently? Maybe from the rider Lae'zel had dropped earlier, maybe someone else. “Do you even know how to use that?” she hissed, firing over the top of the rock pile to scatter a group of enemies cornering Wyll between two of the flaming tents.

“Sure,” Shadowheart answered somewhat petulantly, aiming the rifle beside her. “Point this end, pull the trigger.” She fired, and one of the scarved figures stumbled and grabbed at his leg, before limping off into the darkness. Not bad, really.

“Aim for the chest next time,” she said instead.

Shadowheart huffed indignantly, sliding back behind cover to reload. “I was!”

They were holding their own, for now, but this was not going their way. Lae'zel could tell. They needed a new strategy, and fast. Looking around her, Lae'zel saw that hidden in a shadowy space between two large stones was Aradin, his curly hair stained with dirt and sweat pouring down his face. And she could not believe she was doing this, but she had an idea.

“Aradin!” she called, and when he glanced her way, she waved an arm toward a pile of bags to one side of the tents. “Cover me!”

He looked at her as if she'd grown three heads, then back to the bags, then back to her, and Lae'zel waited impatiently for recognition to dawn in his eyes. Instead he just muttered something to himself and turned, slinking further off into the darkness and likely leaving all of them to die here.

“Shit!” she growled, and then turned desperately to Shadowheart, handing over her pistols. “These are quicker to fire than the rifle. I need you to shoot at anyone who pays attention to me. You don't even have to hit them! Just slow them down.”

“What? What are you–?” she heard, but Lae'zel was already sprinting for the bags.

Guns were still firing, but no bullets were hitting her, which was a good sign. The enemy were closing in on them from all directions, and she had lost track of where half the party even were, let alone whether they were still alive. And then just before she reached the goal she had been running for, something hit Lae'zel from the side and knocked her nearly to the ground.

Fortunately, it wasn't a barrage of bullets, but instead a woman with gray hair and a familiar left hook. “We meet again,” this… ‘Silvermoon’ said as the two of them stumbled apart and she drew a long knife from her belt. “This is supposed to be a matching pair. I hope you haven't lost my other one.”

Lae'zel drew a knife of her own, though it was a Gith Legion standard, not the one she had wrestled from this stranger during their last tussle. “I haven't,” she answered, inching sideways while keeping an eye out for Shadowheart to buy her that opening she needed. “But your friends might have just lit it on fire. Careless work.”

“It's survived worse,” Silvermoon shrugged. “And so have I. That's how I know your friend behind me is out of ammunition.”

“Dammit,” Lae'zel muttered, then tried to make a desperate leap for the bags, only for Silvermoon to cut her off, swinging her knife in an arc that was easily avoided but only if Lae'zel came to a dead stop. She tried to bring up her knee in a heavy shot to the kidneys, but the woman skirted to the side to avoid it and lashed out with a quick slice that forced Lae'zel to make some distance between them.

“You're good, kid,” the older woman said with a smile in her voice. “But I've been doing this a lot longer and– Ow!” Something clattered to the ground as Silvermoon grabbed the back of her head, and Lae'zel could have laughed when she realized it was one of her empty pistols, but instead she dove for the pack and rolled with it toward one of the burning tents, opening the flap to reveal the entire remainder of Karlach's explosives.

Ignoring the sudden pain and stickiness from her arm telling her that maneuver had absolutely just ripped her damned stitches, Lae'zel quickly pulled one of the sticks of dynamite and lit its fuse on the open flame, then turned her eyes to the face of the old woman, who stood frozen in fury. “You wouldn't,” she said, but Lae'zel just shrugged.

“You're going to kill us anyway. Might as well take you along for the ride.”

The whole camp had gone very still as the fuse burned shorter and shorter. Then quietly, one of the masked figures asked, “High Harper?”

Finally, the woman threw her hands up and groaned, “Fine! We will go! For now.” She held up a hand, and a horse was brought for her to mount, a position from which she stared Lae'zel down. “But know this. There is nothing for you but death here. You have one day to leave with your lives.”

The lot of them began to retreat into the darkness once more, quite a few limping or being dragged by companions.

And just in time, Lae'zel grasped the fuse of the explosive and yanked it fully off, then dragged the whole collection as far from the flames as she could get it. For the second time tonight, something slammed into Lae'zel’s side, but this one was a crushing hug that lifted her completely off her feet.

“Lae'zel, you beautiful bastard!” Karlach crowed, shaking her back and forth a few times for good measure before she set her down. “That was brilliant! Now never do it again! That could've gone wrong in so many ways.”

She was sporting a new cut across her forehead and a burn on her arm, but her spirits seemed as high as ever. And the others looked much the same. Harried, frightened, minor injuries pretty much all around, but the one who'd gotten the worst of it was Barth, who seemed to always get the short end of the stick somehow, Lae'zel noticed. This time in the form of a gunshot wound in the shoulder, though even that thankfully wasn't as bad it could have been.

Lae'zel heard him speak for what she realized might have been the first time as Shadowheart stitched up the wound and tried to help him put together a makeshift sling. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly, glancing over at where Lae'zel and the others were putting out the flaming tents and seeing what supplies they still had left to them. “For this and for, you know, saving my life before. I'm not good with that sort of thing, but I do appreciate it. My mum always said it was important to be clear with people. And to repay your debts.”

With his good hand, he pulled a small chain from his pocket and thumbed at the locket at the end of it fondly, continuing, “I think we've found a way into the vault. Not through that collapsed tunnel, but another way in. If we find all the good stuff before you, I'll try to make sure we don't clear the whole thing out. Don't seem right. You all put in the work too.”

Lae'zel thought it was ridiculous, but Shadowheart smiled and thanked him, so… whatever.

With most of their tents destroyed and the possibility of these “Harpers” not actually keeping to their twenty-four hour truce, the only real choice was to move much of the camp inside the Gauntlet itself for the rest of the night, though no one seemed particularly thrilled about doing so. Especially Astarion. Lae'zel's only comfort was that Aradin decided to set his own new camp up a good distance from theirs. Otherwise, she might have been tempted to feed him to some beetles under cover of darkness.

Still, the excitement of the day was enough to wear even her out, and when Karlach woke her for her turn at watch, Lae'zel felt like she had lain down only moments before, not several hours. It was a disconcerting feeling, really. Like she hadn't so much slept as simply lost several hours of memory in a blink.

But she dutifully swiped at her tired eyes and sent Karlach to her own bedroll. Apparently the most exciting things that had happened so far were Gale going off to relieve himself a minute ago and a sand rat briefly scurrying into the light of their lamp, then running off into the darkness again when Karlach tried to toss it a cracker. And Lae'zel’s watch was looking to be much the same, the only sounds being a small chorus of snores and a quiet, rhythmic tapping from somewhere in the darkness.

With practiced ease, she checked over and cleaned her weapons after the use they got earlier in the night, keeping an eye out for any signs of danger or distress while thinking over how that fight had gone so wrong and what they should do differently if there were another. The fact that her ridiculous idea had worked and they were all still alive was practically a miracle, and they couldn't just count on another of those.

Lae'zel's eyes slid over this frustrating group of weirdos she'd found herself a part of and tried to work out when protecting them had changed from a means to an end into… something else. She very deliberately kept her gaze from resting on Shadowheart any longer than the others, and instead stopped on Gale's empty bedroll. Karlach had mentioned him stepping away to relieve himself, but he sure was taking his time.

Lae'zel tried to reason with herself that he was probably fine, she could even see a little light coming from just down the hall. But mental images of him being kidnapped or bitten by an asp or simply tripping and falling down a deep hole wouldn't leave her be. Stupid, fragile scholars.

With a quiet growl, she holstered her pistols and began to follow the light. Their camp had been set up in a side chamber that would be easily defensible if necessary, but it took her less than a minute to reach the main cathedral and see Gale sitting by the statue of Shar, skipping pebbles across the room toward the deep crevice in the floor. Which explained the tapping noises she'd been hearing at least.

“You should sleep while you can,” she admonished from across the room, but there was almost no echo, as if the darkness swallowed her voice right up.

Gale still jumped a little though, dropping the rock he'd been about to toss. “Oh! Lae'zel. Yes, I suppose you're right. But the ‘can’ part of that I've been struggling with a bit.”

She grunted in acknowledgement and walked a bit closer to the light of his lamp, asking, “Fighting for your life wasn't tiring enough for you?”

“Oh, it was definitely that,” Gale answered with a rueful laugh. “But it was also terrifying? And exhilarating? I slept for a bit, I think, but I feel like maybe I was having bad dreams, though I can't remember them now. I kept waking up again, convinced I was back in that firefight. I'm not sure the excitement is good for my heart.”

“I did make it clear from the start that this expedition would be dangerous.”

Gale stood and restlessly walked back and forth, muttering, “Yes, well, it turns out knowing a thing and knowing a thing are two different… things.” He stopped and screwed up his face. “Pretend that made sense. I'm very tired.”

Fear. It was a funny thing, wasn't it? A constant companion on the battlefield, it wanted desperately to help keep you alive, to keep you from losing the things that were precious to you. And yet sometimes it was exactly the thing that could cost you both.

She didn't move closer, and her expression didn't soften, but there was no judgment in Lae'zel's voice as she asked, “Do you wish to leave then? First thing tomorrow, long before the Harpers return? We could just go, take back what we've learned so far and call that a completed mission.”

“Without the book? When we’ve come so close?” Gale questioned, a mix of horror and temptation clear on his face as he looked back and forth between her and the partially split-open plinth beneath the statue. Their pickaxes, still coated in limestone dust, lay only feet away. “I don't want a repeat of last night, I know that. But I also don't know if I could live with myself, running away without even checking to see if it was really under there.”

As if for emphasis, Gale gave the broken stone slab a good kick, and before he could say anything else, there was a loud crack and a sound like falling rocks. But rather than the thick plinth itself breaking any further, the sound seemed to come from beneath it, as another rend in the floor of this chamber began to crumble inward almost directly underneath both the statue and Gale!

He stumbled and wordlessly shouted as the floor he was standing on disappeared, and Lae'zel instinctively jumped up to yank him away by the back of his collar! For a terrifying moment, she worried the whole room was about to come down around them. They'd seen enough evidence of the Gauntlet’s instability that she wouldn't be surprised, but when the crumbling stopped after another few seconds, the gap was only maybe a foot wide and three or four long at most. The statue hadn't even shifted an inch, as far as she could tell.

Gale swallowed air, hand to his chest, and stuttered out, “Th- thanks.” But Lae'zel was already carefully stepping up and peering down into the new hole.

“Grab the lantern,” she said, and Gale did so, slowly moving up beside her and looking down into what appeared to be a small chamber maybe ten feet below them and the statue. A chamber with nothing in it but a long, highly decorative stone and metal box. “That doesn't look like a book.”

“Because it isn't,” Gale answered, astonished. “It's a sarcophagus. Though I suppose the book could be inside it?”

They looked at each other for a long moment, before he turned back to the hole and continued, “To be entombed directly beneath a statue of Shar in her own temple… If there is a body inside, he must have been someone of great importance.” Gale coughed. “Or he did something very naughty.”

“Maybe,” Lae'zel suggested slowly, “we wait for the others before we go opening any mysterious coffins.”

Chapter Text

“Any idea who it might be?” Wyll asked from above, watching Gale examine the sarcophagus early the next day. There wasn't much space in the hidden chamber, so only he and Lae'zel, armed with a crowbar in case it was needed, had actually climbed down just yet.

“A lost and very wealthy king, perhaps?” Astarion offered hopefully, but Gale shook his head and ran a finger along some symbols engraved into the vague, humanoid visage upon the face of the thing.

“No, given the era, there are certain symbols I would definitely expect to be here if this were a royal burial.” He gave a thoughtful hum and scratched at his chin. “Clearly someone of importance though. Symbology of Shar, of course. And that infinity symbol again.”

A thick metal band wrapped the sarcophagus around its middle, a not uncommon tactic to keep out potential looters, but this had one section on its side that was even wider and thicker than the rest and bore an odd engraving in the center. Lae'zel stared at it for a long while as Gale worked on his translation, trying to figure out why the shape looked so familiar… And then finally, it hit her.

“Shadowheart!” she called up above her. “You should come down here.”

“Why?” she heard back instantly and had to resist rolling her eyes. Always so difficult. “Does your mummy need more bandages?”

Lae'zel sighed and crossed her arms, glaring upward. “Just come down and look at this.”

“Fine,” Shadowheart harrumphed, grabbing onto the rope they had hung into the pit and climbed her way down beside Lae'zel. It left them very little room but to press right up against one another. “Now what was so important that I- Oh.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

There in the center of the metal band was an indentation in the shape of a star, the same as the one back in the Temple of the Moon, which they had used to find the way here. “Why would we need the key for this?” Shadowheart asked, sounding deeply confused and a little wary. “Is it… a lock?”

“That would be highly unusual,” Gale answered, though there wasn't enough space for him to get a good look at the thing. “But then so is everything else about this place. Maybe the book really is inside.”

“Should I…?” Shadowheart was asking, but she was already drawing the artifact from her bag and reaching toward the thing.

Lae'zel held up a hand and warned, “Wait. Maybe we should–” But Shadowheart ignored her, unfolding the bottom section of the key like she had before and sliding it into the perfectly-fitted indentation. Then she gripped the thing tighter and began to slowly rotate it to the sound of a handful of tiny clicks, followed by a louder clunk and a hiss as the lid of the sarcophagus split and popped open the first few inches all on its own.

Lae'zel recoiled, covering her nose at the stench that came out of the gap. “Good lord,” she heard Gale gasp as he and Shadowheart also covered their faces and coughed once or twice.

“How does it even smell like that?” Shadowheart bit out, clearly holding back a gag. “Shouldn't any body in there basically just be dried leather and bones?”

“Traditionally, yes,” Gale agreed, waving his arms in the air as the initial wave of the odor dispersed, leaving behind only a lingering scent of something woody but with a hint of chemicals and rot. Through the tiny gap in the lid, very little was visible inside, but the hint of a long, dark shape did little to convince Lae'zel they would find the silver tome they were searching for.

“You're lucky that wasn't trapped,” she snapped in Shadowheart's direction. “I was going to say we should get some distance before we unlocked it.”

Shadowheart glared right back at her. “Oh, please. Nothing in this place has been trapped, and neither was this. You're paranoid.”

Lae'zel started to bite out a response about how badly she could have been hurt, but Gale cleared his throat and interjected, “Sorry to interrupt, but!” He waved an arm toward the sarcophagus. “Can we focus maybe and save… whatever this is for later?”

Grumbling, Lae'zel stepped over and began to slowly, carefully open the sarcophagus the rest of the way. Inside was almost exactly what she had expected they would find. A corpse, blackened and shriveled from the process of mummification, but instead of a pose of dignified recline, the body seemed locked into a twisted rictus of pain and horror. The skin of it, fused with the wrappings it had been buried in, also reflected the light of their lantern in an unexpected fashion, as if it were still slightly moist all these thousands of years later, rather than dry as the desert sand.

“Look at this,” Gale practically whispered, motioning to the inside of the ancient coffin’s lid, where a single, short written phrase was marred by a series of wild scratches. “These are from fingernails. I think this man may have been buried alive.”

Shadowheart shivered slightly, and Lae'zel felt it against her arm in these tight confines. “What does that say?” she asked.

Gale considered it a moment, then read aloud, “Death is only the beginning.”

Which wasn't ominous at all. Lae'zel put a hand on Shadowheart’s back and gently motioned her toward the rope. “We should go back up and discuss our next steps.”

To which they both readily agreed, and soon were gathered in the main cathedral with the rest of their party once more. “Well?” Astarion asked impatiently, picking at the bandages on his arm in a nervous way until Shadowheart slapped his hand to make him stop.

“No book, I'm afraid,” Gale answered, and there were several groans of disappointment and frustration. The time they had before more trouble arrived was running out. “But! There could be a clue to its location in what we did find down there. We just need to… put our heads together and figure out what it is.”

“Come on, Gale,” Karlach moaned pitifully, slumping to the floor. “My head's done in. Can't we just bring back the gooey mummy and sell him?”

He patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. “Technically, yes. That is possible. But if we can figure out his story, maybe we can do both!”

“So what do we know?” Wyll asked, always ready to help. “Not a king, but buried in the Gauntlet. Maybe a priest?”

“Possibly,” Gale allowed. “But if so, he couldn't have been very good at it. The way he was buried… I've heard a tale or two of it before, but never seen any evidence of it actually being done to anyone. It was a punishment reserved for only the worst sort of blasphemers.”

His demeanor shifted while he talked, worry and fatigue drifting away slowly as he switched into the guise of Professor Dekarios. “Buried alive,” he stated dramatically, “though likely only after having his tongue and eyes removed and being force-fed a mix of cedarwood oil and chemicals that would mummify his insides, slowly and painfully.”

He shook his head, as if the worst of it was still yet to come. “And if the ancient Anaurians are to be believed, it would not only be a very horrible and excruciating death, but it would supposedly also curse the soul beyond that to never reach the afterlife and endure unbelievable spiritual torment as well.”

“Lovely,” Astarion commented, looking slightly green around the gills. “So what does that tell us?”

“That he must have sucked super hard,” Karlach said helpfully, still lying on the ground.

“Yes, besides that, dear.”

“Well, it–”

Everyone stopped as Lae'zel drew her pistols and turned, just catching the sounds of voices and footsteps moving down the hall toward them rapidly. But when the source of it appeared around a corner, instead of masked warriors she only saw Liam, running desperately with a lantern in hand.

“Shadowheart!” he shouted when he saw them and pointed back the way he came. “We need you! Please!” Then he turned and instantly went back the other way.

Lae'zel turned to the others, who seemed just as confused as her, but Karlach was already climbing to her feet as Wyll said, “Let's go see what this is about.”

And the group of them followed the way the boy had run off, Lae'zel's weapons still drawn, though there were no sounds of combat echoing to them from up ahead. Only more footsteps and a long, drawn out moan.

She heard Liam start babbling about help being on the way, just before they rounded a corner and saw Halsin and Remira carrying someone between them in their direction, though they stopped and lay him down when they saw Shadowheart. “There was a trap, I think,” Halsin explained, causing Lae'zel to shoot her a pointed look that Shadowheart ignored. “Some sort of powder sprayed out when we opened a box, and then… this.”

The body on the ground let out another horrible moan, and if not for the clothing Lae'zel wouldn't have even been able to tell who the man was. Barth’s face was a ruin, practically melting right off of him. “I have some skill in healing, myself,” Halsin was still saying. “But all of my tools were confiscated in Y'llek, and… I've never seen anything like this before.”

Shadowheart looked frozen by the horror of what was in front of her, and Lae'zel was just about to shake her when she spoke in a quiet voice, “Salt acid. It's inert as a solid, but as soon as it hit his sweat, it would have dissolved and become caustic.”

She dropped to the floor beside him and set her medical bag between her and Halsin. “We need to get these clothes off of him, in case there's more, but don't touch any of it. And we're going to need a lot of water. I've never seen salt acid this concentrated before.”

Lae'zel could do no good here, so she turned to Remira and Liam instead, growling, “Where's Aradin?”

They both looked around, seeming to notice for the first time that he wasn't with them, and finally Remira shrugged, answering, “Back in the vault, I guess.” And Lae'zel stormed off as soon as she was pointed in the right direction.

She heard him before she saw him, stomping around and shouting and smashing things, like a child throwing a tantrum. There was a section of wall it looked like they had managed to break through to a room beyond, but when she climbed her way in, the chamber was practically empty. Just some broken pottery and a single, now open stone box.

“Was this ‘vault’ worth it?” Lae'zel asked, and Aradin froze, in the middle of smashing an old, clay pot with a pickaxe. “The lives you gave up for it?”

“You shut your damn mouth, Gith,” he barked as he turned, hands clenching on the haft of the pick. “It's because of your lot that Brian's dead, not me.”

She sneered. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Fuck you,” he spat, then reached into the box to pick up a thick tome, bound and sealed with what looked to be black iron, not silver as the stories of the Song of Night claimed. “It's not even the right damn book. But hell if I'm not leaving here with something.”

Lae'zel watched him with a glower, very seriously considering harming this pitiful excuse for a man for no reason but her own satisfaction. But instead, she turned and marched her way back to the others, where the mood was… dour, to say the least.

Everyone sat a short distance away from the body, whose face someone had covered with his jacket. Despite their best efforts, Shadowheart and Halsin had not been able to save the poor bastard. The trauma and the blood loss, especially so soon after his gunshot wound were just too much, and Barth's body simply gave out.

“With light, there is life. With life, there is suffering. With suffering, there is death. With death, there is only darkness,” Halsin solemnly intoned, and everyone turned to him with curious expressions. “It's what the writing said… on the box we opened.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lae'zel asked him as she approached.

Halsin took a deep breath and wiped at his face. “It means that I'm no longer sure this place ever held the Song of Night. I'm sorry, my friends. It seems as if the ritual book protected in this temple was another all along. The Book of the Dead.”

Astarion gave a harsh, slightly manic laugh. “I'm sorry, the what?”

”The Book of the Dead,” Halsin repeated. “Another legendary relic of this land which, as the name suggests, is supposed to be a chronicle of the rites and methods for the proper laying to rest of the dead… But supposedly, it also contains darker secrets and rituals granting power over death and other malevolent forces. I can see why it would be hidden and protected here, in the heart of Shar’s most secret enclave.”

“So this was all for nothing?” Astarion breathed bitterly.

“Not nothing,” Gale answered, trying to sound less defeated than he looked. “Just not everything we were hoping for. We did find the Gauntlet, proved its existence, and can bring our knowledge of the path back with us, so that others can do a proper survey of the entire place soon. Maybe even find the true vault, if it does exist.”

They could speculate on these things all day if they had the time, but the truth was that they simply didn't. And someone needed to focus on the practical aspects of their situation, so Lae'zel insisted, “Perhaps. But that is no longer our concern. With no more leads and no more time to find them, we need to gather our things and go before it's too late.”

Chapter Text

Camp had turned into something of a flurry of activity. They had a lot of things to pack up and carry, especially now that they were down a pair of hands and had the additional task of trying to wrap Barth's body and load him onto one of the horses. Liam and Remira insisted on bringing him back to his family, and Aradin had been too busy trying and failing to get his fancy new book open to even bother arguing with them over it. Eventually though, even he had to admit defeat to the hefty iron it was sealed by and stuff it in his bag to start packing. He may have been stubborn, but he was also a coward at heart and wanted to be out of here before the Harpers returned as much as anyone.

Carrying out a set of heavy tools strapped together by a leather cord over one shoulder, Lae'zel paused briefly to check in on Shadowheart, who had been… affected by Barth’s death and her own inability to stop it despite her best efforts. She'd argued at first but, at Lae'zel’s insistence, eventually agreed to stop helping them work and take a clearly needed moment to herself. So for the last little while, she'd been in one of the cathedral's side rooms resting her eyes and her shaking hands.

Lae'zel wanted to say something, to do something, but other than giving orders and working to keep them all safe, she really didn't know how to help. So she left Shadowheart in the dim light of that lonesome chamber and started marching out with her current load of gear.

“She'll be alright.”

Lae'zel blinked and turned to look over at Halsin, hefty bags slung over both of his tree trunk arms. His smile was sympathetic, knowing, in the way of someone already quite experienced with tragedy as he continued, “You're worried about her, and that's fair. But she's strong, like her mother.”

Their footsteps echoed slightly in the tight corridors leading out of the temple, and neither of them spoke to cover it for some time. Lae'zel wasn't sure she liked her emotions being read so easily, but… she supposed it could have been by someone worse.

“She talked to you about her mother?” Lae'zel asked eventually.

“Not in so many words,” Halsin answered, covering his eyes as they drew close to the exit. The brightness ahead was almost blinding after the deep gloom of the Gauntlet's depths. “But she didn't have to. Once the name had been mentioned, I saw it. They have the same eyes. That's how I know she'll be fine, in time.”

He paused as he stepped out and let the sunlight wash over him, eyes closed but just a hint of a smirk on his face. “Though I'm sure having someone supportive by her side wouldn't hurt.”

Lae'zel didn't stumble. Her walking pace just… slowed, briefly, to accommodate for the uneven, rocky ground outside. “I think you're jumping to conclusions,” she muttered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

But Halsin only chuckled lightly in response. “‘Jumping’ is a strong word,” he said once he dropped the bags he'd been carrying by the others and began patting at the mane of the nearest horse. “More like a small skip.”

The older man did her the courtesy of at least not looking her way as he went on, “There is nothing shameful in forming a connection. Lord knows I’ve formed enough of my own in my years to have learned that, if nothing else.”

Uncertain of what else to say in response that would not come across as either some sort of confession or petulant denial, Lae'zel just grumbled, “Let's focus on loading the animals.” And Halsin, ever agreeable, did exactly that.

He even gave her some pointers on how better to adjust her bags so that it was more comfortable for the animal and might even make her more mobile in the saddle, in case of an instance of mounted combat. Or of having to unseat any other blowhards in a race. Overall, it was not an unpleasant interaction, and Lae'zel struggled to remember, or honestly even imagine, having a conversation even vaguely resembling it with a more experienced soldier in the Legion.

It was simply not how things were done.

There was little chance to think on it too deeply however, as the sound of footsteps behind her drew Lae'zel's attention back to the tomb entrance, where she expected to see Karlach and Wyll carrying the last of their own bags out. Instead, she saw Shadowheart, alone and carrying nothing but a small satchel. She stepped out into the desert sun, and instead of turning toward Lae'zel and the mounts, she started walking slowly and steadily off in the opposite direction.

Lae'zel glanced over to Halsin, but he was too busy securing something to one of the other camels to notice any of this. She considered catching his attention briefly, then decided not to bother and slowly followed after Shadowheart on her own.

Lae'zel didn't begrudge her the need for some fresh air and a walk of course, but really, where did she even think she was going to go out here?

“Stop,” she called softly as she drew close, watching as Shadowheart came to a halt but didn't immediately turn around or say anything in response. “What are you doing?”

“Did you know that the natural state of the universe is darkness?”

Lae'zel had been about to reach out and grab her arm but came up short at that. Not because of the question, which was odd obviously, but Shadowheart was always saying things she found odd. It was… the way she said it. The way she held herself. Stiff and canted very slightly off-kilter, like both her limbs and voice were unfamiliar instruments.

“So many people talk about light and dark being opposites,” Shadowheart continued in that strange tone, tightly clutching the bag she held to her chest. “But one existed long before the other and will exist long after. Are the few seconds I'm speaking this sentence the opposite of all the rest of my life?”

Quickly growing more and more concerned, Lae'zel circled around in front of Shadowheart and put her hands on her shoulders. She had been emotional earlier, yes, but this was… something very different. “What are you talking about?” Lae'zel asked, and when Shadowheart finally looked up at her, her pupils were huge, despite the glaring brightness of the sun here.

“Without light, there is darkness,” she instructed. She preached. “But without darkness, there is nothing.”

Her grip on the bag released just enough for her to draw out its contents, and though Lae'zel had no idea how Shadowheart had even gotten her hands on it, she finally understood why Aradin had struggled so hard to open The Book of the Dead. It had a lock on it just like the armillary and the sarcophagus. One that Shadowheart looked about to undo with the key in her other hand.

“Shadowheart,” Lae'zel said patiently, though she did not particularly feel it in that moment. “You're upset. And I don't think that this is a good idea right now.”

Shadowheart looked at her curiously, almost amused, as if that was a funny little comment she had made. “What harm ever came from reading a book?”

She turned the lock, and the book slid open with a soft, ominous click. The pages inside Lae’zel was surprised to notice were not paper but thin sheets of metal inscribed with lines of text in a language neither of them knew. And yet, when Shadowheart began to read aloud, Lae'zel was somehow certain that she was getting every syllable perfectly correct.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she put her hands on Shadowheart's, trying to close the book and once again talk some sense into her. But Shadowheart just furrowed her brow, continuing to read as she struggled to keep the page open.

Then suddenly from back at the tunnel entrance, they heard Halsin drop a heavy sack and come running, shouting with a desperation Lae’zel had never heard from the man, “No! You must not read from the book!”

And… something happened. A sound followed Halsin's voice, but it didn't come from him. It came from behind him, echoing out of the tomb itself. A scream, a shriek, unlike anything Lae'zel had ever heard, and it made every hair on her body stand on end, though she could only hear it for a second or two before a loud clap of thunder drowned it out completely.

Finally, the book slammed closed, all the resistance leaving Shadowheart’s hands at once, and staring straight into her eyes, Lae'zel watched the pupils slowly returning to normal right in front of her. The horses were whinnying with fright and tugging at their reins, and Halsin was still sprinting toward the two of them shouting, though Lae'zel didn't catch a word of it until he skidded to a stop just a foot away. “What happened?!” he asked breathlessly.

Lae’zel wished she knew. Her rational mind balked at what her senses were telling her she had just witnessed, and she could make no words form in answer.

She continued to stare at Shadowheart, hoping she might have a more coherent response, but she looked about as bewildered as Lae’zel felt. Maybe even more so, blinking around at the area like she wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten here.

And when she opened her mouth to answer, all that came out was a quiet, “It's getting dark.”

Lae'zel turned, following Shadowheart’s gaze back over her own shoulder, where deep, black stormclouds that had no business being in this desert for at least another month were rapidly rolling in. Completely covering the formerly clear blue sky and blanketing the area in darkness so thick it was almost like a wall charging right for them.

A cool wind suddenly whipped past them as well, carrying with it the strangest sound. Almost like rain, but too close to be coming from the clouds and sometimes pierced by high-pitched noises Lae'zel did not recognize.

“Inside,” Halsin whispered in horror, and more slowly than she would have liked, it dawned on Lae'zel what she was looking at. Not all of the shadow she was seeing on the ground was shadow, and a swarm of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of sand rats were fleeing from the storm and rushing right toward them. “Back inside now!”

Chapter Text

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What had she been thinking, opening that book?!

Logically, yes, there was no reason to believe there was any connection besides coincidence between her trying to read from an old book and a freak storm scaring a bunch of rodents into the Gauntlet in search of shelter. But trying to stay logical while running at full speed through a dark, ancient tomb with a thousand screeching animals just behind you wasn't easy.

Shadowheart couldn't even honestly say why she had snuck over and stolen the thing from Aradin in the first place, other than curiosity and… maybe some subconscious desire to succeed at something today? Or was that just her trying to explain it in retrospect? Her thoughts had been a bit of a blur since Barth, since Lae'zel had insisted she take a moment to rest in the aftermath. Like trying to make sense of a dream…

There were some very real things to worry about now though. Shadowheart passed the broken wall with the bat-filled cavern beyond, just in time to see the sunlight from the thin gap in the wall go dark, the freak storm clouds outside clearly having reached them finally.

Lae'zel shouted something, but Shadowheart missed it over the sound of her own thundering heartbeat. She and Halsin were slightly ahead, running for the large gap in the center of the main cathedral, clearly hoping that by leaping it the rats wouldn't be able to follow, but sluggish and uncoordinated still, Shadowheart stumbled just before they reached it. She didn't fall, thank God, but she was slowed enough that she had to make a detour into a side chamber instead to avoid being overrun by the desperate swarm.

Quite a few of them still followed her though, she realized as she dashed inside, looking for anywhere to go to get out of their blindly panicked path. One or two of them even managed to catch up with her, making her cry out as they immediately began to scrabble and climb up her legs, their little claws and teeth digging in repeatedly as they did so.

Spotting a tall plinth against the wall that looked hopefully too smooth for them to climb, Shadowheart jumped up onto the thing and grabbed at the rats trying to use her like a fire escape in an inferno. She got a few more bites and scratches for her trouble but managed to fling them away with an angry shout, watching as they bounced once, then flailed and scrambled around for somewhere to hide but, thankfully, did not scale the stone block after her.

Shadowheart slumped against the wall, catching her breath and looked down at her scratched and bleeding legs, and hands now too. She needed to… clean these wounds, wrap them. Who knew what kinds of things these rats might carry? But apparently she'd been so focused on taking the book earlier, she had even left behind her medical supplies. So stupid.

Fortunately, even though they did sting quite a bit, all of the wounds were superficial, and only a handful of bloody droplets fell to the cool stone beneath her, running down into a shallow, slightly discolored basin set in the middle of it. As she watched, slightly entranced, there was a shift beneath her as the stone block she sat on dipped an inch or two into the floor, and Shadowheart just had time to think that surely this was the result of her weight on top of it, not the blood… right? Before the wall she leaned against also moved, and she was tumbling backwards onto the dusty floor of an unfamiliar hallway.

She struggled to her feet again with a cough and a curse, legs slightly shaky from the run and fading adrenaline, but when she turned back to the wall she fell through, it was already back in place and she could find no sign of how to open it again. Somehow she didn't panic though. The voices of her companions, her… friends, echoed loud enough in here that she knew they couldn't be far and she couldn't be fully sealed away, but the way the sound bounced made it impossible to tell which direction they were in.

So she just picked one, making her way slowly and carefully forward, keeping an eye out for more secret passages or traps just in case. At a corner ahead, Shadowheart paused, seeing that only a few feet in front of her, other paths branched off from the one she walked. Such an odd, little warren she found herself in. She decided to just press on down the main path for now, but after turning another corner, she found herself at a dead end. And it finally hit her. She was in a maze of some sort. But why? What would be the point of something like this, except maybe to slow or deter looters?

A sound behind her made Shadowheart spin, goosebumps shooting up her arms all of a sudden, though she couldn't say why. It hadn't been a loud noise, really, or one that would be particularly out of place. It was just a quiet dragging, like a limping footstep across the stones of the tunnel. Maybe it was even evidence that one of her party was nearby! But… somehow Shadowheart didn't feel reassured, and she hesitated to call out and see.

Instead, she silently began making her way back down to the last intersection so she could try another path that might actually lead her out of here. The only light in these pitch-black corridors came from a small lamp hung from her belt, but the flame was already beginning to gutter out because, again, she hadn't thought ahead enough to refill the oil before all this. Where had her mind even been earlier?

She needed to find her way out, and fast. The flickering of the light was already playing tricks with her eyes. Shadowheart kept hearing that shuffling sound occasionally as she searched the maze, and once she swore for a second she had glimpsed a human shadow move past the end of a corridor. But every time she thought she was on the right track, she would end up stumbling into another dead end or circling back around to a section of the hall that the footprints in the dust told her she'd clearly already been.

Except… no. That wasn't quite right. When she really paid attention, she saw that in some paths, hers were not the only prints. Someone else was in here, silently stalking many of these same twisting halls.

She was just working up the nerve to call out when she heard it again. That shuffling, like a heavy sack dragging tug by tug across the stone, but instead of a distant echo, this time it sounded like it came from only a few yards behind her.

And that, of course, was when her lantern finally died, leaving her in complete darkness.

Shadowheart struggled to control her breathing, which she could feel growing heavy and loud in the black of the hall, as panic rose. Logically, it almost certainly had to be someone from her crew who'd gotten just as lost as she had. There was no one else for miles around. But with each inch the source of the sound drew closer, the more her skin crawled.

“Lae'zel?” she tentatively whispered out, and all at once the sound stopped…

Then there was a burst of footsteps and something gripped down on Shadowheart's shoulder, making her spin and swing out blindly at a bright light suddenly blaring right into her eyes. “Hey! Stop, please!” someone shouted, and Shadowheart pulled back, still holding the bag she’d been pummeling… Liam with, apparently?

He was hunched a bit, covering his head with his arms and holding a lantern in one hand. ”Liam?!” she demanded. “Why would you sneak up on me like that?”

“I didn't mean to!” he pleaded, blinking his soft, blue eyes at her between his raised arms. “I ran in here when I saw all the rats, and I guess I got turned around. Honestly, I was kind of freaking out until I heard your voice around the corner.”

Finally, Liam started to relax and waved toward one of the side passages not far from her, and Shadowheart could have killed him or kissed him for terrifying her like that but then reassuring her she hadn't been losing her mind this whole time. There really had just been someone else in here with her. “So what you're saying is if we follow your footprints back, we'll find the way out eventually.”

“Um, I guess?” he offered doubtfully, and she did her best to show him a tight smile.

“Let's do that then. I'm done with this place.”

“Me too.” He pointed in that direction, mouth open to say something further, but Shadowheart saw… something over his shoulder she could make no sense of. From one of the darkened side passages, a shadow seemed to stretch in an unnatural way. Almost like an arm but far too thin and black as pitch it moved until it settled on Liam's shoulder, and he went very still and very pale.

And then with a loud clatter, he dropped his lantern and was dragged into the dark.

Shadowheart stood frozen, her mind refusing to comprehend what had just happened, even as the lantern rolled right to her feet and soft sounds of struggle, of something gruesome that couldn't actually be happening, came from just out of sight. Slowly, like she was moving through molasses, she dipped to grab the lantern and then took a step closer. Liam might need… help, a slightly numb part of her brain was telling her.

But when she stepped close enough to shine the light where he had just been, Liam was beyond her help. A thousand years beyond it, seemingly. Little more than skin and bones was left, like every drop of moisture, every single organ had been pulled from his entire body long ago, including the eyes and tongue from his dry, gaping mouth and sockets. He had just been fine a few seconds ago, hadn't he? Mummification took months of work and preparation, and Shadowheart’s brain staunchly refused to think about anything but how the math just didn't make any sense for that to work.

Then something moved in the corner of her eye. It almost looked like a leg to match the glossy shadow of an arm that had grabbed Liam moments before, and without even consciously making the choice to do so, Shadowheart found she was running away as fast as her shaking legs would take her.

Her thoughts felt jumbled, all out of order and hard to piece together but very loud, and Shadowheart was shocked to realize she was somehow managing to follow Liam's footprints back, more or less. She still got turned around once or twice and had to retrace back to the correct path, but eventually she actually managed to escape the labyrinth into a room where several passages seemed to converge and a large image of a tower surrounded by prostrate worshippers was carved into the wall.

She heard Wyll and Gale’s voices just a room or two away and could have cried with relief as she made to leave by the largest doorway. Until a figure stepped out of one of the other halls to block her way.

A familiar figure of desiccated flesh fused with its ancient funereal wrappings. The three thousand year old mummy from beneath the statue of Shar was standing, juttering right toward her. And somehow it looked… even wetter than before, bloody footprints left behind it on the stone floors.

There was plenty of space to run around it. It seemed to be struggling just to walk toward her, but Shadowheart’s legs wouldn't get the message her mind was screaming at them as it got closer and closer. Its mouth opened and closed stiffly, and the chest seemed to crack with the effort to fill lungs it should no longer have. And when its cracked, leathery eyelids painstakingly pulled open, she saw a familiar set of blue eyes underneath.

Those thin, wet arms lifted up as if to reach out and strangle her right where she stood, and she still could do nothing but stare in horror and disbelief as death came for her here in the dark.

But… then it stopped, inches from her throat, and blinked its stolen, bloodshot eyes at her. Its hands dropped, a single cold, wet fingertip brushing the back of her palm and making her shudder in revulsion, and it took a small step back. It had no lips, but behind its stained teeth, something like a tongue lolled and air pushed up from somewhere in its ruined chest to form a single word in a voice like muddy sandpaper.

“Is…obel?”

And then it looked over her shoulder and, with an audible crack, its jaw dislocated, stretching open unnaturally wide to allow an inhuman bellow of rage that Shadowheart flinched back from into something solid behind her. Something that furiously shouted right back, “Htak’a!” and nearly deafened her with a blast louder than almost anything Shadowheart had ever heard. The force of it knocked the dead man backward into the wall, and suddenly Shadowheart found herself being pulled away, Lae'zel clutching onto her with one arm and a shotgun of all things with the other. Her ears were ringing too loudly to hear it, but she read on Lae'zel's lips clear enough, “We're leaving! Now!”

She got just the briefest glimpse of the creature slowly rising to its feet once more before they turned a corner and were dashing along with a very confused-looking Wyll toward the exit. Outside, most of the others were struggling to wrangle back the scattered and clearly very agitated mounts, looking anxiously at a sky devoid of all light despite it being midday in the middle of the dry season. Occasionally thunder rumbled but no rain fell. Whatever storm was upon them was apparently only interested in bringing thick, dark clouds to block out the sun.

“We're still missing three,” she heard Karlach say with concern, as the ringing finally began to fade.

Shadowheart swallowed thickly as she looked around and saw that there was no sign of Aradin or Remira or, of course… “Liam's dead,” she said flatly, and saw Karlach flinch back as if she'd been slapped.

“What? How?” she demanded, but Shadowheart didn't know how to answer. She looked to Lae'zel, who seemed… more disturbed than she had ever seen her. Whatever bravado had gotten her through what the two of them had seen in there was threatening to slip.

“We can talk about that later,” Lae'zel pushed out though, steeling herself and moving toward her camel. “And we'll leave Aradin and Remira their horses, but we need to go. Now.”

A howl like a hound of hell itself echoed out of the entrance to the tomb, and half the mounts reared and nearly managed to run off again. “I concur,” Astarion added and immediately began mounting his camel without even complaining about the smell, after which everyone else was quick to follow.

As they rode away, Shadowheart refused to even look behind her at the Gauntlet, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there were eyes on the back of her neck the whole way. And she could almost swear that she saw the shadowed figures of several mounted horsemen also watching their trail from the top of a nearby bluff.

Chapter Text

“How did you even lose it to begin with?!”

There was a loud clatter as Aradin angrily threw half the contents of his backpack across the room and turned to glare at Remira, who was sweating fiercely and looking impatient to go. “Just shut up and help me look for it!” he shouted back. “I'm not leaving without that damned book.”

“Good for you. I care more about getting out of here alive,” she argued but still helped him look for wherever his bag had disappeared to.

This place had always been strange and creepy, but suddenly it seemed to have turned into a madhouse. A sudden storm, a million rats pouring through the place, and whatever those other noises had been that had nearly made Remira piss herself and driven the others out of here like frightened rabbits. If they'd found anything else of value besides the book, Aradin would already be gone as well.

The search, as well as the bickering, could have gone on all day though, if they weren't cut off by the oddest sound in the hallway outside. It wasn't loud exactly, but it was grating enough to set his teeth on edge. The rasp of something rough and damp scraping along the stone walls.

“Liam, is that you?” Aradin called out, clearly furious. “I swear to God, kid, if you tell me you moved my–”

He cut off with a strangled yelp, as a figure stepped into the doorway that was definitely not Liam. A monstrous thing of bloody, shriveled flesh and horrific, wheezing breath. Both he and Remira drew pistols and at the first sign of it taking a step toward them unloaded every bullet they had right into the creature’s chest, but the most that seemed to do was confuse it, its unbothered gaze shifting down to the useless weapons in their hands for a moment or two.

There were no other paths out of this room, except right through the monster, and somehow Aradin was certain that if he tried to just wrestle his way past, despite how weak and emaciated it looked, something truly terrible was going to happen to him. So he did what he had to do.

He shoved Remira right into it, as hard as he could, and used the distraction to slip past them both and down the hall, ignoring the horrific screams that followed him as he ran.

There was no time to think on that, only on survival at the end of a blessedly short path between their campsite and the exit. Or… what should have been at least? The hall outside turned terribly dark only a few short yards from the door, and though Aradin knew it was almost a straight run outside from here, the moment he stepped out of the light of their campsite, he instantly felt lost and disoriented. Like he was in a massive, empty chamber instead of a small, straightforward hallway.

He stumbled slightly and reached out for the wall to guide him but somehow couldn't immediately find it… And then something in the darkness ahead of him seemed to move. Black on black, it was almost impossible to see any detail beyond a vague shape sliding closer of what must be some horrid specter of death, and with a cry of alarm, Aradin stumbled backward a step and suddenly found himself back in the light, though he could have sworn he'd made it much farther down the hall before that. Unless he'd somehow gotten turned around halfway through?!

He spun around, looking for another path out of this place or a light source he could grab up. But instead, all he saw was that same mummified creature stepping out into the hall, only now it looked… bulkier, less shriveled somehow. And Aradin watched as, right before his eyes, fresh patches of skin and even hair were attempting to grow out of the devastated ruin of its body. It made him want to vomit, to scream and run and cry, but all he could actually do was stand and stare.

The monster stepped up to him, its gait less hobbled and more natural than before, and it did some horrible mockery of human speech, though Aradin could not understand the words. It stopped and stared at him, as if waiting for a response, blinking both eyes but having one of the lids stick only halfway up. A detail Aradin could not stop looking at for some reason.

Finally, it frowned, an act that split its newly forming lips and caused them to bleed a thick, dark ichor.

With a creak like old wood settling, it raised an arm to its chest and whispered more gibberish, before locking eyes with Aradin and taking in a deep, raspy breath. Then it spoke again, and this time though its voice was still a ruin coming through a throat that had not yet fully formed and the words themselves remained unfamiliar, he somehow understood each one perfectly.

“Your offering to Shar's Chosen is appreciated, mortal,” Aradin knew it to be saying. “But more is required.”

“Please,” he began to beg. “I just–”

But it cut him off, placing a bloody hand on his shoulder and shoving him with inhuman strength down to one knee. Shaking fiercely, Aradin looked up into the terrible visage of death above him and could do nothing but close his eyes in fear of it and grovel, bargain, plead for mercy before the most merciless gaze he had ever seen in his life.