Chapter Text

Introduction

This serves as an intro to this monster of a fic, especially for new folks, but also as a reference point for those already reading.

First off, a big thank you to all those people leaving kudos and/or their two cents on this silly little story 💖 

If you’d like to get updated when I post new stuff, hit me up on Tumblr: Narmora

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The Why

Imagine spending months and months planning out a DnD campaign playing in a Steampunk world with a High Fantasy background that sadly never comes to life, but occupies your brain for years. Imagine then falling victim to the terminal brainrot that is BG3, and a certain character from that old campaign elbowing her way into the picture and ta-dah; you end up with an artificer from the far end of the galaxy crashlanding on the Sword Coast right after the nautiloid came down.

The Who

As this lady doesn’t have a tadpole, you’ll find you’re still missing a Tav. Enter Nori Brambleweed, your classic brazen halfling bard trying to make a living in the sole inn of her village, happily married and struck with a hefty case of post-abduction homesickness. Also has a mildly worrisome drinking problem, but that’s a topic for another day.

The new gal, Ley, joins the party a bit late. On day five, to be precise, after the gang successfully smacked the sass out of Ethel. Ley is faced with a heap of problems right away. For one, her unfortunately devastated ship, and secondly, her inability to communicate. A third one resides within her chest; the reason she departed her old home in the first place, and the cause of many issues bound to surface down the line.

Lastly, we have a wizard who was ill-prepared for attack-by-squid (I love that line, even if it means choosing the nasty dialogue option) and doesn’t really know how to wizard anymore. As it happens, he feels rather passionately about all things otherworldly and arcane - so when this enigmatic stranger arrives, full of untapped magical potential and in dire need of mentoring, he jumps at the first opportunity to swap into his teaching robes.

Progress

This work is very much the definition of a slow burn. Not only in terms of romance, but writing-wise in general. That being said, I’m three-quarters of a year in and still actively writing. The plot is planned out for the most part, and there are quite a few chapters already waiting to be posted - so bear with me! This might take a while to complete, but we’ll get there eventually.

On a side note, it feels important to point out that I’m not a native speaker and this is the first major second-language project I’ve dared to undertake. The reason I’m saying this is simply so that you, the reader, understand why you might see my writing style change throughout the chapters. Now, given that several months of daily writing do wonders for one’s vocabulary and understanding of a language, I’ve started to overhaul the older bits, starting from chapter one. So far, I’ve worked my way through 2 & 3, and plan to follow through with the rest whenever I find the time - and I’m not zoned in on a new one. Those usually take priority, as you might imagine.

The Smut

As of the time I’m posting this, we’re not quite there, but will soon be. (I know I’m taking my sweet time - and regret absolutely nothing! 😇)

Should you require a sample, feel free to scour my profile. There are a few one-shots that might strike your fancy. (Fair warning, some of them are rather old and might therefore read a bit wonky.) One thing I will say in advance, regarding the main fic: The porn is always optional. (As is the plot, technically, that’s why I include this section.) All chapters containing smut will be completely skippable and marked as explicit, so you don’t accidentally stumble into things you’re perhaps not interested in seeing.

Have fun reading! 

Chapter Text

Wildspace

*

Somewhere on the Outer Rim, aboard her trusty caravel, a woman squeezed the handle of her spray can and a battalion of water drops took to the dusty air.

They wobbled to their destination like a swarm of drunken insects, determined to stay on course despite the low gravity, which was why it took a whole two seconds for the entire batch to find their target. Those landing on a smooth surface burst with a satisfying plop. Others made no sound at all, like most things in the void.

“Seen better days, haven’t you?” the woman who’d sent them on their way now mumbled, forehead wrinkling as she lifted one wet leaf to inspect its underside.

It wasn’t just the decay that had her worried. So far, it was only the stem that showed a slight discolouration, reminding her of the urgency to stock up on fresh soil; a rare commodity, and this deep in uncharted territory, her usual sources were well out of reach.

“I’ll get this sorted,” she declared. “You just wait here and look pretty.”

That was the more pressing issue. The monologuing.

A bit of that was unavoidable, probably even healthy, for anyone venturing this pitch-black waste with only themselves for company. However, recently it had gone beyond the occasional soliloquy. And that was never a good sign. It meant her head was doing things it wasn’t supposed to. Brooding, for example. Pondering if she was nearing the sixth anniversary of her unglamorous departure, as her gut had been insisting for what felt like several months now, or if she might have passed that mark already. Unarguably a waste of time, to mull over such things. There was no deadline to her mission, and her schedule was of no relevance to anyone out here.

“Day feels odd,” her mouth stated without permission.

It had indeed felt odd. Right from the moment she opened her eyes. Just as it had yesterday and the day before that.

That was when the babbling started. As though her body had gathered a crucial piece of information her mind had yet to comprehend - information her lips now tried to convey by spilling unauthorised gibberish, which, as of right now, did little else but distract from issues that were not only palpable but vitally important to resolve. Like preventing the plants that allowed her to keep breathing from withering away.

Parting from the leaf with a tap that had it shudder in confusion, she rose to her feet, brushing dirt crumbs off her forearms as she peered around the room.

She loved this time of morning. When this part of her routine was concluded and the cargo hold sprinkled with shimmering reflections, glinting on fragile saplings and the ceramic of their planters, on opalescent leaves in every hue imaginable, hanging there in the twilight like a flock of dozing butterflies. A jungle at the brink of dawn, frozen in eternal slumber, so it would never miss the sun.

She was humming, she absently realised as she sauntered toward the door, fumbling with the knot of her apron at her back and smiling at her treasure.

Back home, green had been a rarity, and it was even rarer among the stars. But here, she had plenty. Here, in the belly of her ship, her personal little treasury, she hoarded it like others hoarded gold and jewels and other useless frippery.

“Bye, for now,” she said over her shoulder, the apron deftly thrown on its designated hook.

The words echoed in her mind as she scaled the narrow staircase. A weird thing to do. Bidding a room of plants farewell. It wasn’t as if they’d get up and strut off somewhere else.

“Strange,” her lips commented wisely.

The main deck was essentially just one long, narrow cabin, a multi-purpose compromise between workshop, bunk and kitchenette. Slightly claustrophobic confines, but what they lacked in space, they made up for in terms of functionality and flawlessly structured organisation.

Flawless if one knew where to look for things, of course.

Which was a tad problematic at times, the floorboards strewn with random knick-knacks and not-yet-repaired machinery as they were, every wall lined with shelves from bottom to top, displaying the oddities she habitually gleaned on surface expeditions. Stacks of crates stood in the corners, stuffed with long-lived home-cooked rations of regrettably revolting taste. The few pieces of furniture were mostly buried under clothing, dropped and picked up where she stood, both for lack of a wardrobe and because she simply couldn’t be bothered.

Her workspace, on the other hand, was for the most part clutter-free, her research sorted into meticulously arranged piles of notes, kept from fluttering about by rosy, quartz-like crystals she still hadn’t found the time to test for their conductive properties.

Lit by their fluorescent glow, her logbook lay open in the centre. A map of stars hovered above it, the course planned out with conjured threads spanning in a zigzag line from one dot to another. She’d have to make on-site adjustments, of course, once she’d reached the new system.

“If,” said her mouth.

She passed the desk. Whistling, to keep her lips from spilling any more querulous rubbish.

A few paces took her to the airlock, where she grasped the heavy handle, smiling at the sound of gears clattering within the frame. It unlocked with a clank. A firm yank pulled it open. Inside, she pulled the first door shut behind her, then went to unseal the second, listening to rattling chains and the rhythmic thud of pistons, followed by a lingering creak as the metal swung aside and gave way to the star-strewn canvas of everlasting night beyond.

Each time she set foot out here, the sight filled her with awe.

Nothingness in all directions, infinite and eternal. That isle of light, her destination, no more than a grain of sand, twinkling between endless dunes of impenetrable darkness.

It had taken her months to overcome the horror any ground-borne soul must feel, facing the sheer scale of it. Hearing the whispered call of the abyss and feeling its agravic pull, promising freedom from the yoke of unpleasant mundanities, like past and future and that ever-withering earthly prison.

Way back in the early days, when loneliness was new, she spent many evenings pondering how it would be to give in. To simply take that final step and become stardust once again, as all things would eventually.

The reason she had not succumbed was probably just stubbornness. Stubbornness and habit. Defiance might also play into it, knowing this wasn’t just a long, cold winter that had to be endured, but the natural state of the world. That the universe had been black from the moment of its birth and would stay that way until it ceased to exist - light, in all its forms, being nothing but an anomaly.

As was she. With her makeshift, light-fuelled vessel, and living fire in her veins.

Fingers skimming the larboard railing, she made her rounds, prodding and probing the web of enchantments that made up her defences. As per usual, they were in impeccable shape, and so was the construction at its heart, embedded between the floor planks, the sphere trapped within curiously flaring up as she brought her palms to it.

Her curse, given purpose. More than it deserved. But holding grudges was a luxury she simply couldn’t afford out here.

She craned her neck, gazing at the gargantuan planet that stoically towered above.

It was a gas giant, painted with an intricate pattern of beige and crimson swirls. Incapable of fostering life, but a marvel nonetheless. The surface was partially visible, throwing the cold, transcendent light of the faraway blue dwarf on the ship’s reflecting sunsail.

A portion of it would stay with her. Funnelled into her vessel’s radiant heart, always churning in its socket, always emanating heat, shielding from the void and its frigid, lethal grip.

Soon, this would be the only light source left to her. Her substitute sun, for when all others were out of reach. A role it would have to fulfil for what might be several weeks, or however long it would take to cross the emptiness between this cluster and the next.

A long time to be alone with her thoughts, and very little to do.

At least she had been wise enough to leave the holograms behind. So she wouldn’t just sit there, wallowing in self-pity whilst listening to recordings she had heard so many times she could recite them word for word. Pondering if her mentor would approve of this latest innovation. If her brother still skulked the back alleys of the Undercity, pulling the odd string behind the curtains so it wouldn’t tear itself apart. If her mother would still remember her, were she ever to return. If her colleagues had grown accustomed to her absence, or maybe had forgotten her already.

Before sorrow could take hold, she steered her mind to other things. Things she didn’t miss one bit.

The overwhelming noise from thousands of people rampaging through narrow streets. The constant squeaking of pipes hidden by haphazardly patched walls. The heavy stench of oil mingling with that of grimy street food. The sound of steam bursting from valves, ripping everyone and their cousin from their slumber.

A gush of heat flooded her chest. An inquiry. Concern.

“No need to make a fuss,” she muttered, idly rubbing her sternum. “Just a bit tired, that’s all. Go back to sleep.”

The heat lingered for a moment. Rolling up and down her spine, as though it wasn’t sure if her words were to be trusted. Then it dispersed, and she was by herself again.

She drew a deep, endlessly exhausted breath.

Her gaze flicked to the planet once more, its colossal silhouette framed by a gleaming halfmoon crown.

On a whim, she reached out to the sphere. Creaking beneath her feet, the ship veered to the right, bringing the crimson-beige colossus between the blue dwarf and herself.

Inch by inch, the half-moon shape turned full eclipse, and for a longing, peaceful moment, she could only stare at it.

Then the caravel adjusted and drifted off into the night.
 

*

In an entirely different corner of the universe, bony hands stirred for the first time in centuries, feeling the bottom of their coffin and its tattered, threadbare padding.

Crinkled skin tightened around trembling lids, then swiftly relaxed again. The dice had not ceased rolling yet. Fates were yet to be decided, faces waiting to be picked. Paths might yet divert, led astray by mundane trifles or interference from above.

Who would be the ones to wake him mattered little. He’d meet them all, eventually.

Motes of dust danced through stale air.

Statues with missing limbs stared at age-old, toppled pillars. Heaps of bones littered the flagstone, skulls glaring into nothingness.

The silence was absolute.

And for a little while longer, that was how it would remain.

*

Not far from crypt and coffin, a heavy gate clattered open between earthen, vine-draped walls.

A group of people emerged from within. Some slim and quick on their feet, others strong and heavyset, leaving deep footprints in the loam as they walked.

They were in a cheerful mood, buoyant laughs and lively chatter echoing from the surrounding cliffs. A wiry specimen with a tuft of mousy curls punched his finger on a map. One of his comrades, a bearded individual of short, burly stature, snatched it from his hands with a smirk, not heeding the tall man’s protest as he stashed it in his pocket.

The last one to emerge from the thick curtain of vines was an undeniably imposing figure. Not only for his towering build, but also for his leaf-clad vestment that didn’t quite fit with what the rest of them were wearing.

He fell behind to glance back at the closing gate, uneasily shifting from one foot to the other. Then his gaze trailed further upward, and his lips curved to a smile. He raised a hand, hailing someone hidden by the foliage atop the overgrown portcullis.

They hadn’t been the only ones to seek refuge in this place. Many others had flocked in from the outskirts, furred and feathered, all bearing the same bad tidings; a nameless threat stirring deep within the forest, lying in wait and growing in numbers. A festering infection, the kind one would be well advised to tear out stem and root before it could no longer be contained. 

He sighed and cast one last glance at the thicket, then turned to catch up with the rest. 

*

Many miles further inland, a raven-haired woman staggered down the bends of a road winding through the foothills of a snow-peaked, scraggy mountain range.

If she hadn’t lost track of time completely, it must’ve been close to an hour by now.

Definitely long enough for them to note that there was one less corpse than there should be. So, likely long enough to figure out what else was missing and set their bloodhounds on her trail.

As long as she was out in the open in this blasted barren swath, she couldn’t afford to stop moving. At least until she reached the treeline, or anything providing enough cover for her to tend her wounds in peace. However she’d go about that, with her magic all dried up, and her potion reserves empty.

She threw a glance over her shoulder, warily searching the skies for signs of winged pursuers - not watching as her boots caught on a loose patch of pebbles, slithering, reeling and staggering sideways, then regaining balance on trembling knees. Knees feeling so weak by now, it had her worried she might not get back up again, should she allow herself to fall.

Then their sacrifice would be in vain, and the Mother Superior’s doubts about her would prove justified, at last.

Wincing in pain, she brought her hand to the angular hump right above her waistbelt. Not the comfiest spot to hide it, stuffed between chainmail and thin layers of cloth, but arguably hard to reach, should any sticky-fingered infidel take her for an easy target.

This was all that mattered. The prize for their foolhardiness, paid for with the lives of her brethren. Perhaps the key to her salvation, should the goddess deem her worthy.

Gaze fixed on the treacherous ground, she heaved herself forward, listening to her anxious pulse and the frosty, whispering wind. She would persist. Step by step, one foot in front of the other. 

Until either they caught up with her, or until she reached the Gate.

*

In a bustling little town half a day’s walk down the very same road, a thoroughly peeved troubadour stared at arms so ridiculously girthy, her unsteady, pointed forefinger seemed a toothpick in comparison.

The owner of said tree trunk biceps had the gall to disregard her scowling, pretending to polish a mug that now looked about as appetising as the goop-specked rag squeaking away on the handle.

“Your logic has some flaws, good sir...”

Her finger swayed from one oversized bald spot to its slightly blurry twin.

Weird how that had sprouted over the course of one evening. Complete with attached head and all those other innkeep bits. Perhaps this was him paying tribute to the eponym of this respectable establishment. Ettin’s Rest, the place was called. Rumoured to have been erected where the fabled Elminster had once felled such a beast by means of magically enforced napping atop a conveniently sharp-edged rock.

“If that was s’posed to be last call...”

Her thumb made a detour over her shoulder, toward those of her audience still engaged in semi-articulate conversation instead of drooling on the table.

“... ‘n how come ‘dis lot just got fresh pints?”

“Because none of their wives said they’d whack me halfway to Tethir, if I allow their better half to come home sloshed and copperless,” came the patient explanation.

Ah, yes. The good old threatening-the-source treatment. Ironic, given how the one doing the threatening reached the receiving party barely above the knee.

“Although who of you is the better half is arguably in question these days,” her employer added in a needlessly exhorting tone.

She scoffed, chucking her empty glass onto the greasy counter.

Not her fault these folks were hellbent on sponsoring her post-performance catering. And her sponsoring a few rounds in turn was only sensible if one wished for them to keep coming back - as this dolt was well aware of; half his earnings were made when she played. And, well, afterwards. When she traded lute for tankard, and turned to sharing the manifold tales from her suspense-packed adventuring days.

“Take the halfling suite, why don’t you?” her benevolent patron kindly suggested, his visage still refusing to cease slipping from her focus. “Sleep it off. She’s less likely to whoop your arse if you show up at least partly sober.”

“Hrmph,” she grumbled in a perfectly dignified tone.

The descent from her bar stool proved a bit more troublesome than expected, teetering under her bum as it was, and with the ground churning and shifting upon peering down.

Naturally, she did not head for the suite. There were more of her kin amidst the patrons, many of them in no shape to go home.

Instead, she headed for the back door and stepped out into the yard, a quadrangle patio, ramshackle chicken coops lining the fence that led out onto the street. Their inhabitants greeted her like a dearly missed fledgling, wings spread wide and feathers flying as they flocked around her feet.

She chuckled and took a bow to pay the masses her respect. Waiting for the racket to quiet down. Blinking excessively against the sun that had risen whilst she’d been drowning her worries in ale.

It felt wrong to be sulking like this.

She shouldn’t have a care in the world, should be overjoyed to have built a life for herself, free of violence and strife.

And yet, those bygone times refused to be bygones. Day and night, they gnawed at her, a reminder that she was past her prime. That her glory days were over, her name and accomplishments at best a footnote in the history books, if someone were ever to commit them to paper. Not her, naturally. Picking up the quill herself was painful to even think about, bound to bring back memories she feared might no longer feel like her own at this point.

“No existential crisis for you, huh?” She sighed and picked up one of the hens, a commendably fearless exemplar that kept clucking on calmly as she carried it off to the sheds.

She’d probably treat her wife to dinner this evening. Get hold of some flowers before heading home. Gerbera were usually a reliable way to prevent impending marital disputes. She might even take the risky route, across the needlessly opulent neighbours’ garden, to pilfer a few of their lush maroon tulips.

Tulips might have a chance to secure her some kisses.

A smile on her lips, she flopped down on a haystack, dozing off in unison with her cooing, feathery haul.

*

Half a day’s walk to the west, the sunrise painted a warm palette of rosy hues onto an ocean of rooftops, the dense network of lanes between them still shrouded in purplish twilight. Below one such roof, belonging to an establishment far more distinguished than the Ettin, a front door flung open with an impatient creak.

The well-kept boots silently crossing the threshold paused after a few steps, and white locks were curled by maritime winds as their owner craned his neck to cautiously glance at the sky.

Less than an hour before traversing even the most dusky, obscured back alleys would be all but impossible.

Not enough time to remedy his mistake. He’d come home empty-handed. Again.

Lips tensing with apprehension, he slunk past still-closed window shutters, tiptoeing around streaks of light the morning sun threw on the pavement.

He should’ve known not to take risks. To stick with the target he’d been sent to retrieve instead of simpering at that snot-nosed dolt. A travelling salesman; handsome, wealthy, and, most importantly, passing through on his way to gods-knew-where, so his sudden disappearance wouldn’t raise much attention. A prey well worth the effort, bound to redeem his previous failure, had the bastard not tucked tail. Supposedly because of the oh-so dearly beloved spouse he’d somehow forgotten to bring up whilst being lavished with attention, not to mention ungodly amounts of Cormyrian Red.

A couple of dwarves approached from ahead, caught up in a heated argument. Servants, judging by their drab attire. He gave them his most lordly glare and the widest possible berth the tight alleyway allowed for. They didn’t look up as he passed by, jabbering on in their thick, brutish accent.

Just another priggish noble, not bothering with the small folk, so they’d not bother him in turn.

Swaying the likes of them would’ve been much less of a hassle. One or two bottles of mediocre wine and a handful of well-placed compliments were all it took in his experience. But no, he had to go for quarry so hopelessly pampered that no amount of further spoiling stood a chance to seal the deal.

He bared his teeth at a sparrow that had the nerve to tweet at him, puffed up on its lofty perch on a sunbathed windowsill.

Even Petras, that blundering buffoon, had been successful. Had left arm in arm with some stone-drunk, walleyed wench, gloating over his shoulder as he carried her off. A pitiful haul, exactly the sort that would’ve earned him a good flogging, were it not for another, even more lacklustre offering. One the dunce probably wagered would draw the master’s ire in full, so he’d be spared his due comeuppance.

Not an unlikely scenario. Then again, there may yet be enough for both.

He smirked at the notion of Petras grovelling in a corner, trying to meld with the walls.

At least he knew what to expect.

*

In a town further to the North, a man lay splayed out on his bed. Victim to catatonic lethargy, his gaze locked onto the masterwork currently coming to life on the ceiling.

The artist had been at it for over a day. Unhurriedly spinning on, unbothered by its audience.

A commendable display of gall, in his humble opinion. For this minuscule eight-legged chap to gaze upon such a misshapen behemoth, with its measly two eyes and blundering appendages, and then keep on weaving as though the view wasn’t unsettling in the least.

Perhaps it thought itself above it all.

Well out of reach for all foes and misfortunes. Trusting blindly in all those aptly moving arms and its understanding of the pattern. And in a way, it was right. Other than a frosty breeze or the odd obstreperous fly, there wasn’t much it had to fear. It wouldn’t face rebuke or condemnation if a thread snapped when it fumbled, or a knot didn’t-

A pang of pain tore through his nerves like lightning, curling up above his heart as a blazing ball of agony.

He pressed his eyes shut, one hand tracing circles through the fabric of his tunic, grounding himself against the searing hot, dreadfully familiar ache.

Just a few days before, it had been so much worse. Debilitating anguish, where this here was just pain. Since then, the source’s demands had been met, and the symptoms had mostly subsided. The inevitable catastrophe had been averted once again. Granting him more time to contemplate how much longer he aimed to uphold this charade.

He was prepared. That wasn’t the issue.

The destination was clear. The wards were in place, his pack sorted and stuffed with provisions, ready to be plucked from the wardrobe once he finally gathered the courage to go. His old travelling robe was in there. An inconspicuous purple thing from way back, when his duties would lead him as far as Icewind Dale or the Calimshan wastes. Even that velveteen tunic he had packed, together with a selection of first-rate herbs and spices.

Small comforts, to make those cold, lonely nights a little less dreary.

The letters were prepared as well. For Tara and his mother, but also the handful of colleagues who had been kind enough to care. All of whom he had brushed off in the rudest way imaginable. He didn’t expect them to forgive. But he hoped they’d understand. Or at least try, to some degree.

Of course, he’d have to depart under the cover of night, lest his trusted familiar be on his heels right away. Preferably around midnight, when she was usually out and about. Doing her rounds to nick enchanted baublery from unsuspecting carrier pigeons, their feathers still adorning her haul in some cases. Not a pleasant thing to stumble upon. As if some particularly savage magpie was plotting to annexe the tower in secret.

His gaze wandered back to the filigree, nigh-on completed work of art.

More would move in once word of his disappearance spread amongst the local arachnoid scene. And they’d be in for a prosperous life, shielded by wards that might hold half a century - give or take a decade, perhaps - with their masterful constructions no longer threatened by Unseen Servants and their dusters, once the one who conjured them had ceased to exist. They’d procreate, raise generations of spiderlings that would never leave these walls, never question the web, never tug at strings they weren’t supposed to touch.

Another burst of agony flared up between his ribs.

He flinched, fingers kneading forcefully, but the pain proved too persistent - more than it should at this stage, as was the case quite often lately. As though the pace of his decline was exponentially increasing.

Jaw churning with frustration, he tried to quench it by means of sheer will. Suffice it to say, to little avail.

When he couldn’t take it any more, he jolted out of bed, rushed toward the billowing curtains and stepped onto the balcony.

Dawn had just begun to break, and the view above the harbour was nothing short of breathtaking.

The sky was crystal clear, like a pristine azure blanket, the sun on the far end barely past the horizon, yet already heating the late summer breeze with adamant persistence. He heard seagulls croaking overhead, the calm sound of waves lazily slopping against the waterside buildings, a medley of murmurs wafting in from the streets.

The voice of a city, still halfway huddled in sleep’s peaceful embrace. Ignorant of his folly and the threat he now posed.

A lovely morning, promising to lead to a no less lovely noon.

As good a day as any to finally see it done.

*

On a plane nowhere near Toril, nor a certain ship in Wildspace, for that matter, a sweat-soaked, towering tiefling woman saw herself faced with what had to be the worst pep-talk in history.

“... pretty much the only one not hoping to see your head on a spike, so get over whatever caused this infantile shitshow and, for once, do as you’re-”

The arsewipe’s hoity-toity nose burst with a splintering, squishy crack. An oddly satisfying sound, followed by an equally ear-pleasing thump as the bum attached to it unceremoniously met the ground.

“Infantile, my arse...” the tiefling grumbled, one thumb swiping specks of blood from the dull end of her axe hilt.

Sure, maybe shit-for-brains so far hadn’t fantasised about chopped-off heads or other dislodged body parts, but that sure hadn’t kept her from bringing reinforcements. She could hear them out there, the drumbeat of their stomping march echoing through the ravine behind her. Merregons, she was fairly sure. Not only for their slacking pace, but because that was about the extent of what anyone in their right mind would dare to entrust this nitwit with. The nitwit who now lay there like a comatose chicken, waiting to have its feathers plucked and get chopped into bite-sized, tiny cambion bits.

Nibbling her bottom lip, she gave one knee a careful kick and watched it flop atop the other. Not much of an improvement in terms of decency, this look - nose in the dirt and bum aiming skywards.

The bum had a pouch dangling from it. A pouch that smelled somehow enticing.

She hunkered down to fish for it, frowning as the knot slipped open and her sticky, calloused fingers resurfaced with its contents.

Beef jerky. The good kind, it smelled like.

Brows knotting with distrust, she brought one slice to her face, then stuck out her tongue to give it a lick. Just a quick one. Just in case.

Definitely beef. From a real Faerunian bovine. Seasoned and cured with diligence, a quality the locals around here were not exactly famous for. No, this had to have been bought somewhere else. Somewhere where soul coins weren’t commonly used as currency.

She snorted, eyes darting to the gorge where her hunters huffed and grunted in the distance, and then back to the one at her feet. Had this really been her ploy? Lure her back like a slavering pup, so the archdevil’s cronies could reclaim her property - perhaps pry it straight from her still-breathing chest?

“Way to waste your money, bud,” she chuckled and scrambled to her feet.

A long moment of silence followed, where she stared at her alleged chum, whom she’d never again get wasted with, or cheat on in stupid card games - annoyed at herself for dawdling, when she knew the sensible thing to do was to grab her good old, trusty axe and chop that ugly mug right off.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

With a bit of luck, this lot might end up butting heads with her other, much more dangerous pursuer. Which would buy her time to make a dash for the exit. Wherever that might be around here.

She sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, then stuffed the slice between her teeth. And a few more, just for good measure. Chewing, she then turned to leave, the sweat on her back cool against the torrid breeze as she slithered down the slope, leading ever deeper into the labyrinth of chasms.

Sooner or later, someone would catch up to her. The question wasn’t if, but when. And whom it was she’d end up facing: a horde of pea-brained demon goons or one swashbuckling hired assassin.

No matter.

She’d fight her way out of this shithole or go down swinging either way.

*

Just a few moments later, right where the same ravine opened up into the sweltering hellscape, the sound of hurled blades and curses rang through the sulphurous air. The latter - hissed in response to the hurled blade in question - stemmed from a young man ducking behind the lifeless body of his previous kill. 

On the other side of the hulking cadaver, iron-clad boots took a few cautious steps. 

He broke into a grin, muscles tensing in eager suspense. Nine of them he had felled so far. Picking them off one by one, empowered by his patron’s blessing and that intoxicating surge of power the first deathblow had unleashed within him.

The ones still left standing seemed stumped by the sudden silence. Or perhaps they had forgotten he existed, now that they no longer had eyes on him. Hard to say with creatures even a housefly could outsmart. Either way, they appeared to have come to some kind of consensus, as one of them now tromped closer to lean in and spy over the corpse.

A fistful of red lightning hit the goliath’s chest, hard enough that it lost balance and let go of its weapon. A second salvo sent it flying against the chasm wall, which shook violently upon impact and buried it under a landslide of rubble.

“Ten,” the man asserted calmly.

The beast’s companion chose this moment to retaliate, halberd lowered to gut-height as it charged. A whispered word, a mindless gesture, and black, spectral arms sprang from a puddle of darkness, toppling the fiend and pinning it down on its back.

“Eleven,” he said, plunging his blade into its now-exposed belly.

One more taken care of, one more left to go.

Regrettably, twelve was nowhere to be seen. And the ravine had grown suspiciously quiet, suddenly.

He surveyed the ground from the corner of his eye, grin widening as his shadow was suddenly joined by another, the shape of a halberd raised high above both their heads.

A sidestep spared him the harrowing blow, and he flung around to skewer its throat in a deft upwards cut. The Merregon tumbled backwards, reeling and grunting in confusion, then finally whirling up dust as it fell.

“Nice effort,” the man chuckled with a nod.

Swiping gooey, black blood from the edge of his blade, he let his gaze drift over the carnage before him. This probably wasn’t how they thought this would go. Then again, thinking wasn’t exactly their strong suit.

Poise stiffening slightly, he strutted toward the furthermost body. The one that had already been unconscious when he came upon those hoodlums. Unconscious and for the most part unharmed, it would seem. Aside from the crushed nose, of course - shattered by one impressively well-aimed punch.

Those two must’ve had history, and not the pleasant kind, he wagered. Or maybe the opposite was the case. Her head was still attached to her shoulders, after all. 

None of this fit the picture. Not this questionable display of mercy, nor the fact that they bothered sending someone else. Someone his contact hadn’t mentioned once.

With a huff, he turned to leave.

He wouldn’t let doubt get the better of him. He had seen her clear as day; that one-horned menace, her whole being ablaze with malicious intent. A fiend straight from a nightmare, about to wreak havoc on the Sword Coast’s unsuspecting denizens.

That was what it came down to, and that was all he needed.

He’d leave the who and the why for the devils to sort out. He knew meddling in their politics was a sure way to get burned.

*

Somewhere between worlds, a woman woke to the deafening sound of her heartbeat.

She forced her eyes open, but saw no more than before. Suffocating darkness, wherever she turned. No smells. No sounds but that rhythmic, skull-rattling drum. She realised she stood upright. Or rather, was strapped to a surface that felt like it stood upright. It was smooth under her fingertips, almost organic in texture.

A thought swept through her mind like a bone-chilling breeze, but was gone before she had a chance to grasp its meaning.

With considerable effort, she peeled her hands from the back of her seat to examine the rib-like structures that held her in place. They didn’t budge under her touch, but instead grasped her tighter. The vice of a predator, refusing to part with its catch.

Fragments of memories fell into place.

Her brethren around her, instructions bellowed with unwavering zeal, silver swords singing as they were drawn from their sheaths. 

Then - blood. So much blood, coating her hands and her once-polished armour, and tainting the faces of her kin that glared up from the ground, unmoved.

Finally: a blast of force, hurled her way by four-fingered hands, and vengeful eyes, gleaming like embers, boring into hers as she fell.

She knew precisely where she was. This wasn’t her heartbeat that sent her bones shaking. It belonged to something so much bigger. The reason she couldn’t see was that she had yet to undergo the procedure, because there was no need for light where she hung, stashed away side by side with hundreds of others like cattle lined up to be killed.

She writhed on the spot, feverishly clawing at the flesh-padded walls, searching for buttons, for levers, for hidden compartments - anything that might open this pod, this prison, this despicable, flesh-wrought cage.

She knew it was no use. The lid was as sealed as her fate. And by the time it would unlock, she’d be too weak to resist. Mellowed by fear, and whatever vile spellwork they used to subdue her. She could feel it muddle her mind, trying to lull her back to sleep.

The mere thought of giving in was nothing short of revolting.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulse calming with each rise and fall of her chest, all fears of what could be banished to make room for what was.

There was the throb of her heartbeat, almost drowned out by the other. The coppery scent of dried blood blended with the stench of fear. The feel of nails scraping on glass and the prongs of her shackles, up the insufferably carnous back of her seat and-

The pad of her thumb brushed against studded leather. The silver-clad tip of her trusted blade’s sheath. Those fools had left her sword with her, presumptuous as they were.

A mistake they’ll regret, she thought with a smirk.

If anything, this was a lesson in patience. Not an easy virtue to master, but no less essential than mettle or brawn.

Her chances were slim, but they were there, nonetheless. A chance to await them, ready to strike. To slink away at an opportune moment and cut down whoever dared to stand in her way.

She still had a chance to claim one of their heads.

*

Far, far away, in a stretch of the galaxy not even the gods knew existed, that other, much less menacing vessel ambled through the emptiness between freshly catalogued stars.

Its sole passenger was dozing on her desk, forearms crossed on her logbook, one cheek resting on top.

She had tried lying down properly. In her bunk, on her blanket, as would’ve been in order after that strenuous trek, but it appeared that her mind wasn’t quite done with the day.

Maybe because she had yet to shake that lingering dread that had befallen her during those brief moments between jumps, when she had to readjust and prepare for the next, acutely aware of how defenceless she hung there in the middle of nowhere. A bonfire in the blackest of nights, blazing brightly for everyone to see.

Or maybe it was that silly melody from earlier that kept her awake. It felt vaguely familiar, like some lullaby from her childhood, perhaps. If there were words to it, she couldn’t remember them. All she had was an endlessly repeating refrain that had played in her head for hours on end.

No matter the reason - she had decided to do something useful and finalise her map, rather than restlessly tossing and turning. With ink this time, both for her notes and the much more compact version that would go into the next cache. A task that required unwavering focus and was usually a reliable way to silence the hubbub in her head.

Usually.

And now she sat here idly, doing nothing but dreamily gaze at the stars through the porthole to her right.

She still had trouble getting the distances right. What she had thought was a tightly packed cluster turned out to be a widespread and rather sizable one, much further away than initially assumed; a drawback it made up for with fascinating constellations. So far, she had spotted at least two mushrooms, one upended and the other slightly squished, and then there was this other one that could, if she squinted just a little, maybe pass as a dove or-

She couldn’t see the dove.

Fear clutched her heart like a cold iron fist.

Inch by inch, she rose from her book, then from the desk, one hand clasping the porthole’s frame as she hesitantly brought her face to it.

She could count on one hand the number of non-hostile encounters she had had this far out in the void. Most of them with creatures that were more afraid of her than the other way around, like that swarm of mantas that had mistaken the mast for a chewing toy, vamoosing disappointedly once they found that the shield was too much of an obstacle for their itty bitty manta teeth.

This one didn’t move like a thing that vamoosed.

She could only see its vague outline: a massive black shape that covered what she’d dubbed a dove. A shape that changed form and was therefore in motion, and with irrefutable certainty, headed for her.

Thoughts rotating at lightning speed, she jolted back from the window, dashed through the cabin and ripped her cloak off the wall, her boots half stumbled over, half kicked along on her way to the door. There, she fumbled for a moment that felt decidedly too long; one hand with the handle, the other with her sleeve, cussing and hissing and cursing herself for having designed such a cumbersome lock. What was even worse - there was yet another - just as heavy, just as slow.

Listening to clattering gears, she donned her worn-out leather boots, hobbling and reeling, almost nosediving the deck as the door finally swung open.

“One,” she murmured, eyes scouring the dark.

There it was. Still some distance away, but no longer formless - and not fully here, on this side of things, winding closer like a snake under a blanket.

“Two.”

Their kind slithered through the tears and cracks, similar to what she did with her ship, so shaking it that way was out of the question.

“Three.”

Their size was their weakness. And their only one at that. She’d have to find the nearest black hole, smear it off in its gravity well, like she’d done in the past.

“Four.”

There was no black hole within reach. And she was so very tired.

“Five.”

It breached with the effortless grace of a whale, playful and unhurried. The snout came up first, cragged and rough as if carved by a giant. One white eye snapped open, nearly the size of her ship, the pupil a pale ring discernible only by movement, unerringly flicking towards the sphere, then to her.

“Five,” she whispered again, hands balling to fists, craning her neck as it dived over the main deck, a wall of grey scales filling her vision entirely.

That was it. Five seconds to cover more ground than she could at full speed.

“Idiot,” she scolded herself as she rushed toward the bow, the monster's tail slinking out of sight with a twitch.

She should never have come here. Should’ve never ventured this deep into uncharted territory. Turning around was no use, given how little strength she had left. And that thing had her scent, so if it got the better of her, and the others were to one day follow her trail or were perhaps already on it-

“Idiot,” she hissed, numb fingers clutching the handrail as she bumped against it. “Reckless, irresponsible, thickheaded idiot!”

Heels pressed into the ground, she threw a glance over her shoulder. The beast's massive, eel-like body had bent to a half-turn, picking up speed as it locked in on her.

Heartbeat pounding in her ears, she threw her arms forward. She needed nowhere in particular, just a place where she could manoeuvre for a second. Or for six, to be precise. From the corner of her eyes, she saw it open its maw, no roar to be heard through the void’s deafening silence.

Behind her, the sphere’s socket cranked into motion, man-sized bronze rings whirring to full capacity in less time than it took to draw breath.

There was no need to give orders. The source of its power sat right at her heart. Between the two, she was no more than a conduit, coursed through by forces able to raze cities, melt rock - now funnelled to fingers that knew how to aim, how to steer, how to access its potential without getting consumed in the process.

That was the theory, at least.

A swipe of her right hand, aglow with lent power, and the veil between worlds parted like a curtain on stage. A firm grasp with the left grappled what lay beyond and, with a yank, hauled it towards her.

“One,” she murmured once she had crossed over.

Most of her magic, she had no clue what to do with, but this she had mastered to a fault. She had learned to be squirrely. To outsmart what she couldn’t fight. 

“Two.”

The floorboards below but an extension of her feet, she pushed the ship into a steep downward motion, swooping around and behind the still-rippling gap.

“Three.”

A flick of the wrist, and the next one flung open. Hopefully obstructed enough to buy her a little more time. To set up a decoy portal or two.

“Four.”

She felt it cross the first gap right as she flung through the second. Like a ripple in the aether, stirring long-forgotten instincts that had her guts contort in fear.

“Five,” she mouthed mutely.

She didn’t need to turn to know it was right on her heels.

Chapter Text

The Fall

*

It was approximately the 25th of Eliasis, when Nori barrelled down a riverside beach that meandered through a swathe of land she, until very recently, hadn’t even known existed.

“Shadowh...” she failed to shout, throat as coarse as sandpaper after a full day’s worth of screaming.

Hands pressed to her sides, she came to a halt, suppressing a coughing fit as she struggled to catch her breath. She was in flawless shape, naturally, just a little drained from all that hag-thrashing and lair-looting, and trying to keep up with those long-legged beanstalks. She could hear them back there, even the distinct thwack of steel on straw from where Lae’zel was dismembering yet another training dummy.

It wasn’t that Nori didn’t appreciate her thwacking skills, of course. But right now, she didn’t need anyone dismembered or beheaded; she needed someone patched up.

“Shadowheart?!” she called out again, this time a tad less croaky.

No response other than from a swarm of chubby finches rampaging in the woodworks.

She sighed and resumed her trot, cursing these painfully thin-soled shoes she so far hadn’t been able to replace because that trader at the Grove didn’t have anything her size. And the guy was a halfling himself, for heaven’s sake.

This was definitely the right direction. She could see the cleric’s footprints in the sand. Around them, there were smaller ones, clawed and padded and circling those others on their way toward a patch of bullrushes from where Nori now heard hectic panting, saw a white-furred snout breaching the reeds, tongue lolling with excitement before-

“Hnngh,” was all she got out between tight-clenched lips as her face was bestowed with copious amounts of slobber.

Yet another drawback of her stature: always being within perfect reach for all sorts of slavering maws. On the other hand, if the fluffy bits attached to one were the kind that needed ruffling, all she had to do was reach out, no kneeling required.

“Whosadroolylittlefleabag?” Nori cooed in a perfectly dignified manner, ruffling away with what strength she had left. “Where’s the nice lady who stuffs you with treats when no one’s looking, huh?”

Another slurp, covering every inch of skin from jawline to forehead.

“The other one!” she laughed and fondly shoved him away, earning herself a heartbreaking whine.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work on me, bud,” Nori chuckled, wiping her face with the hem of her sleeve.

What the whine couldn’t accomplish, big wet puppy eyes sure did.

“Whosthecutestlittle-”

A snort from nearby had her freeze.

“I’m here...” came a bleary voice from a reed-obstructed rocky outcrop. “Here and wide awake. I’d never fall asleep on watch. Who’d do something like that?”

Nori fought the urge to snicker, wondering if spouting senseless gibberish might prove a boon for crew morale overall, two-legged members included.

“What’s the matter? What situation?” Shadowheart mumbled, chainmail chinking as she slumped from her perch.

“Wyll got half his hand burnt off,” Nori explained as they walked. “Barely any skin left, and we’ve run out of potions.”

“How’d he do that?”

“Touched something hot.”

“Like what?”

“Like Karlach.”

Shadowheart raised a brow. “Did he now...?”

“Oh, stop it, you,” Nori huffed, grinning. “Was a perfectly innocent accident. There was a freshly orphaned kitchen, talk of blackberry tarts, then a friendly slap on a shoulder that should perhaps go unslapped for now...”

“Ah...” The cleric nodded, lips curling with glee.

“Hey, why’d you go this far for a nap, by the way?” Nori inquired with a nod back at the bullrush patch.

Shadowheart’s gaze dropped for a second. “No reason.”

Lae’zel’s furious whacking still echoed from the cliffs, clearly distinguishable from the jabbering and clattering of kitchenware. It sounded downright threatening. Intentionally threatening.

“Right,” Nori sighed, more in annoyance than defeat. It was moments like this that had her debate whether it wouldn’t have been wiser to, just this once, turn down the role of executive bigwig.

They passed the rest of the beach swiftly, despite Scratch's ceaseless attempts to bowl her over, tail wagging so furiously Nori was sure her shoulders would have bruises come morning.

The others had gathered around the kitchen tent; a marquee of humble but sufficient proportions she had insisted on setting up at the earliest convenience, as the thought of stashing their victuals together with boots and rusty weaponry struck her as nothing short of barbaric.

Wyll sat on one of the logs they had rolled around the firepit, hailing them with what looked more like a mitt than a hand under that makeshift heap of bandages. A safe distance away, Karlach heaved about a bunch of crates, not following any discernible logic or pattern, whilst now and then casting the warlock’s back a miserable, guilt-ridden glance. Lae’zel, as expected, didn’t hear them approach, too busy disembowelling that dummy of hers. The same went for Astarion, although in his case most assuredly not due to a lack of perception - the man had ears like a bat - but because Mr We-clearly-frequent-different-circles had better things to do than grace the plebs with his attention.

“... expected to put up with this nonsense...” Nori heard the tail end of his lamentations, this time aimed at Gale, whose purple robes she could just about spot in the tent’s open entrance. A rookie mistake, letting the elf bicker him into a corner. “... and no reward to speak of other than mouldy sweets and potions I wouldn’t touch if my life depended on it...”

“I don’t suppose you’d deem seeing a pregnant girl saved from a hag’s murderous clutches a reward in and of itself, would you?” Gale teased from inside. Judging by the sound, he had taken it upon himself to sort the spoils of today’s haul.

Astarion didn’t so much as pause to catch his breath. “... and don’t get me started on that abominable cane. I dread to imagine what the old crone used that for. Certainly not walking.”

“Here we go,” muttered Nori, earning herself a pitying smile from Shadowheart before the latter veered off to see to her patient.

“What... oh, you mean the staff?” Gale asked, and the clattering fell quiet for a moment. “I’ve cleaned that thrice, I’ll have you know. Besides, it’s positively brimming with Weave. Granted, the enchantment might be a little on the unsavoury-”

“Brimming, you say?” Astarion sneered. “And how long will it stay that way?”

“Back to nagging already?” Nori barged in.

“Nagging?” Astarion scoffed, a hand at his chest. “Can a man not pose a few perfectly valid inquiries?”

Nori cocked a brow. “Such as?”

“Well, for one, why we couldn’t at least keep the wand if nothing else.”

“Ah, plenty of reasons for that.” Nori went to count with her fingers. “Firstly, because I say so.” She glared at him, then jauntily continued counting. “Second, because I’d wager the trek to the Gate is a long one from here, especially if you’ve a bun in the oven, and - who knows - might be a little more enjoyable in the company of your loving, if now slightly unsightly, husband. Whom, thirdly...” she continued, middle finger wiggling alongside pointer and thumb. “... wouldn’t have been much of an addition to this outfit, I don’t think. I mean... ugh. Imagine being greeted by that mug when you’re out to fetch breakfast. Or at night, when you've got to take a leak, because I don’t think undead need sleep. And the breath ...”

“Alright, alright,” Astarion said, shuddering. “Look, I’m just wondering why it’s necessary to take in every wretched stray we happen to cross paths with.”

“Wretched as in needing a hand or backstabbing by way of introduction?”

“Wait, what?” said an irritated Karlach in the background. She had joined just the day prior and not witnessed that dubious first run-in with their dagger-flinging, lock-dismantling, self-proclaimed magistrate.

“Oh, please,” Astarion said, a note of genuine hurt under all that complacency. “At least I know how to make myself useful, unlike that little ingrate.”

“You know, if you keep running that mouth of yours, I might have to issue a gag order on it. Maybe restrain the whole package.”

Astarion bent down. “Is that a promise?”

Nori burst into cackling. “Honey, even if you were my type and, don’t you dare take this personally; you’re anything but - I’m out of the game.”

She held up her left hand, wrought silver blinking in the sun.

That teasing spark in his eyes dulled, but didn’t quite extinguish. “You people are such a bore sometimes.”

“Us married folks?”

“Those, as well.”

Patting down his frilled collar, he straightened up and sauntered off. Nori watched him, shaking her head.

“He’s not entirely in the wrong.” Gale looked up from a crate he had halfway pried open, a rueful frown aimed at the staff where it leaned at the back end of the tent. “Once my condition acts up again, this may well end up rendered useless.”

“Then we’ll find you a new one.” Nori shot the gnarly thing a scrutinising glance. “Besides, it sure ain’t pretty. Makes you look like an old geezer.”

Gale chuckled. “Perfectly on par with how my legs feel these days”

Nori let out a chiding snort. “I’m the fossil ‘round here, young man. See, these stumps...” She peered down at her feet. “... have seen next to no exertion for nigh on a decade before being so rudely torn from the tranquillity of retirement.“

That was sufficiently close to the truth. Granted, chances were that at least one of the elves was considerably older than her, without their appearance betraying their age, which was nothing short of cheating, as far as Nori was concerned. And to dub her day-to-day as tranquil was arguably a stretch. But then, he didn’t have to know that. None of them did.

Gale laughed, raising a hand in defence. “Far be it from me to strike up an age-related discussion with the woman my life quite literally depends upon. On that note...”

There it was again. That ramble-heralding forefinger.

“... I’d like to, once more, emphasise how much your efforts are appreciated, especially the sparing of hard-earned, irreplaceable-”

“Gale,” Nori cut him short. “I need you to stop thinking in debts and favours owed. I’m sure we’ll all need help down the road. Speaking of...”

Taking a step backwards, Nori peered around the entrance to where their newest addition now squatted in her rocky little nook, a caved-in crevasse beneath a cliff overhang. To call what she had there a tent would’ve been a mild exaggeration; a whimsically thrown-together collection of sticks, topped with a dirt-flecked canopy. An improvised solution. Or perhaps a permanent one, given the regrettably flammable properties of canvas. Either way, it was a touch lacklustre. As was that lopsided grimace their fiery friend probably hoped to pass for a smile.

“Can I leave you with this mess...?” Nori squinted at Gale, then at the clutter of yet-to-be-attended foodstuffs.

He smiled and mouthed a silent ‘Go ahead,’ to which Nori nodded and hopped off.

Before heading over to the tiefling, however, she took a swift detour to the campfire where Wyll had just risen from his log, the cleric long gone with her duties fulfilled.

“Feel like tagging along?” she whispered, a sideways glance aimed at Karlach and her plastered-on smile.

“Do you really need to ask?” Wyll chuckled and reached down to pet Scratch, who had faithfully taken to guarding the wounded. “Such a well-mannered chap,” he added as the pup skedaddled.

Nori hummed, adjusting her drool-drenched sleeves.

Karlach frowned as she saw them approach. “You... all patched up?”

“Good as new,” Wyll produced a blister-free palm. “Better, even. Think I’ve fewer scars than before.”

Nori donned her most brilliant smile. “Care to help us fetch wood for the fire?”

Karlach peered up at her, half wary, half glum. “Because it won’t matter if that gets scorched early on?”

“Because Gale has his hands full as is, and I fear that if we don’t help the man out, it’ll be me who does the cooking. And believe me when I say, nobody wants that to happen.”

With feigned impatience, Nori gestured for Karlach to get up, smile widening as the tiefling did just that.

“You know, this reminds me of that imp my old gang used to run with. Now that was a well-mannered chap.” Nori shot Wyll a wink. “Eloquent like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You had an imp in your posse?” Wyll laughed sceptically.

“Oh, yes.” Nori nodded. “Of course, first thing the poor guy does is catch a cold, fresh out of the hells and all.” She pointed at Karlach, who now traipsed along seeming more curious than morose. “If you think you’re causing trouble, you’ve clearly never been exposed to explosive acid snot bombardment. Tore down half the inn with the sneezing and the flapping...”

Nori let her gaze drift as her lips kept moving, spinning a yarn she had unwound so often, doing so no longer required much thought.

Astarion had his back turned towards them, deep in conversation with Lae’zel. Perhaps complementing her swordsmanship, perhaps trying out some new, brazenly flirtatious lure. Judging by her vexed glower, the gith wasn’t inclined to bite.

Across from their tents, where the dirt path led to those of wizard and warlock, stood her very own little abode; wine-red and scraggy, held together by patches made of every imaginable cloth and colour. Not necessarily a sight for sore eyes, but comfy, and situated where the late evening racket was bound to ring loudest, just the way she liked it.

On the far side of the pit, Scratch had apparently launched a covert assault on the provisions - a failed one, as Gale’s booming laughter and the furry, tail-wagging rear Shadowheart dragged out of the entrance would imply.

Another day in the sun. All of them safe and sound, despite world-ending cults and brain-devouring parasites.

One of their last, should she disappoint.

With a humourless smile, Nori turned back to the others. She’d need a stiff drink later tonight. Perhaps more than one, should the day not get better. 

*

On the outermost edge of what Faerûnians knew as Realmspace, a woman named Ley struggled not to fall asleep where she stood.

She had lost track of how much time had passed. How long she’d gone without food, and without sleep, out here at the bow of the ship - watching, waiting, listening even though she knew there was nothing to be listened to. How often it had lunged at her, its teeth so close that she thought it was over. How many rifts there had been, how many hair’s-breadth escapes. How many hours she spent screaming.

She was past the point of panic. By now, it was cold, calculable dread. As calculable as the fact that it was out there somewhere. Watching and waiting, same as she was, but with the placidness of a snake stalking a wounded sparrow, knowing it could do little more than dodge and hop off, flutter a few steps at best. And the sparrow knew it, too.

What prevented her knees from giving in was plain old muscle memory. Her body did what it always did, and the one job she had left - other than not collapse from exhaustion- was to keep her eyes peeled and her head on a swivel, ready to launch the next jump the second she spotted movement.

And yet she kept drifting off.

Not to matters that were in any way relevant. Nothing to do with survival, but trifles. Memories. Spectres of the past, the sort she had locked away, rattling at the bars of their cages. Her name was among them. The one given to her at birth by her mother, and then the ones she had earned for herself - a lengthy list that had surely been extended in her absence, and not by fond ones, she wagered.

Ley shuddered, trying to clear her head with a few rapid blinks.

Above and around, the night was as unmoved as ever; millions of stars winking her way, painting the cosmos with the most wondrous patterns. She saw spiralling swirls adorning vast nebulae, and isolated clusters donning proud purplish hues valiantly holding their ground in the dark.

Back in her place, it had taken less than a month to catalogue the celestial panorama and the formations it contained, so discovering new ones always came with a thrill. Her favourite pastime, when there was nothing to do. She never knew what she’d find: fantastical creatures with limbs in odd places, towering trees sprouting impossible blooms. At times, she was greeted by faces. Those were the ones she liked most. They meant having company.

She could make one out up there, if she squinted a little. Sharp eyes, scraggy brows. The prominent line of a freckle-dashed nose.

He had almost dropped his bottle, that one night when she told him she thought about leaving, once what required doing had been dealt with, and some amount of order was restored.

The air had been thick in that damp, stuffy cavern, even more so between the bones of that antediluvian colossus, between which they had huddled down like carrion beetles in search of a meal. The others had been fast asleep, tuckered out from a day’s worth of tiresome work, the construction in the background nearly complete. The two of them had made this their ritual; sneak off into the ruins, share a bottle and talk, about everything and nothing, until their heads were empty enough to catch some shut-eye themselves.

“Don’t be daft, where would you go?” he had asked, flabbergasted.

“To the stars,” Ley said. “We’ll have to go either way. If things down there don’t work out, or we outgrow that place, too.”

Her brother stared at her, then at the decrepit ribs of what had once been one of their forefathers’ ships. “And there, you’d do what?”

Ley shrugged and sipped at her ale. “Scout things out, I suppose. Find the edge of the world and see what’s beyond.”

The world had no edge. It all spanned on forever. The cold and the silence, the star-dusted void. The void that, in one spot, was darker than it had been a moment ago.

One, Ley thought, hands hurling forth that instant, a trembling gesture parting the shroud between worlds.

“You’ll come back, right?” her mother had asked, more offended than fraught, and far from understanding.

Ley had planted a kiss on her forehead. “Of course I will, silly.”

A lie, but one that would soon be forgotten. A selfish thing to do, but she couldn’t bear to see tears.

“Well, then...” her mother said quietly, a steep line appearing between white, knotting brows. “You just make sure you don’t forget about me over there. Down there. Or... where was it you’re going again?”

“Wherever my feet take me,” Ley laughed, guilt choking her like a noose. “I’ll write when I can.”

Such a dumb thing to say. She had regretted it ever since, knowing there was a chance her mother had written herself a note about that last part, waiting for letters that would never arrive. Ley had tried to make up for it. One broken promise weighed up with one solemnly kept. Not a day had gone by without her remembering.

Two.

There, ahead, a bright spot in the night. A handful of bodies in its orbits, the shape of one outlined against the sun’s radiant crown. Ley smiled bitterly. It was close, big enough, and she was too tired to keep running.

Three.

Behind her, the sphere sprang to life. It had dulled, considerably so, her stashed-away reserves dangerously close to depletion.

No matter. It didn’t have to last for much longer.

Four .

From the corner of her eye, Ley saw scales, then the gleam of serpentine eyes opening, and her heart sank like a stone as she gauged distance, momentum, and her weary mind grasped that she wouldn’t reach five. That this was it. That, at long last, she had found the end of things.

It was then that the torrent of memories finally broke its chains.

Her hands pressed against a round stained glass window, the world on the outside a dulled mosaic. Behind, patient murmurs, attempting to assuage. Down there, a wrathful choir rising from the bottom of the street, its manifold echoes thrown back from the walls.

“I tried,” Ley whispered, as her view filled with grey, with cragged lips that drew back. She could see its tongue rise, a wandering dune made of shale.

Her fingers rolling up parchment, thick and expensive, filled from top to bottom with elegant script.

“You know this is a trap,” her brother had bristled. “There’s no way this man would part with even a fraction of his power. What’s the catch? What’s it he wants?“

“He offers to take the two of you in,” Ley soberly explained. “Get you away from where people can find you.”

The world was made of teeth, an abyss yawning between.

Ley felt tears wet her face. She wasn’t sure when they got there. How there could be any left.

Her palms had been clean when she came to her senses, drowsily staggering through a dust-clouded street. The rubble she saw through her fingers was powdered with a fresh layer of ash. There was no blood to be seen on her skin, on her clothing. Neither her own, nor that of others.

But their silhouettes had been there. Dozens of them, all along the walls. A battalion of frozen shades, tripping and floundering, trying to bring those who owned them from her reach. To no avail. Because, like fuel to fire, those close to her burned.

With a wail, Ley jolted forward, years of despair funnelled into one last burst of flames. It cut through the night like a lance forged from lightning, piercing the shield - because what did it matter - and not derailing the beast in the least. But it earned her a spurt of blood, an annoyed flaring of nostrils, right as that sky-filling maw came crashing down.

The impact ripped her off her feet.

Ley screamed, hands clutching the larboard railing before the pull of the vacuum could drag her away.

Gone was the all-numbing silence. Now it was pandemonium; the void howling from beyond, set on claiming its due, the planks underneath screaking in agony as the ship careened sideways, and underneath all that commotion - the beast’s lingering growl, beheld perhaps for the first time in its life.

Then, a deafening crush, the sound of metal aching, creaking, breaking in two, a disgruntled grumble as that long, scaled body slinked out of her sight.

She didn’t have to look to know the main cabin was gone, cracked like eggshells between its teeth.

But the sphere was intact. She felt it back there, trying to hold things together. She felt its heat. Felt the source of it unfurl in her limbs, in her veins.

Not yet, she ordered.

The suction subsided. Her feet slithered, found purchase.

Ley could feel it struggle, the sphere and its source; the Thing denied a name. It was torn, its focus split between binding air, mending gravity, and prowling at the edge of her mind, ready to spring into action.

She chuckled, straightening clumsily. They both knew her fate would be sealed, were it to take over out here.

With a flurry of gestures, Ley tore open a new portal, shaky fingers fumbling, steering left and right, searching for what she had seen earlier.

“What am I doing?” the High Tinker asked, the grin beaming her way as euphoric as hers. “Taking a first step, of course. What are you doing, you lady - standing around, laughing your socks off?”

Ley hadn’t just laughed - she had cackled; at the old man with his jauntily swinging arms, stalking about as if walking on coals when it was grass he had under his feet - miles and miles of it, the first they had ever seen grow out in the open. Even the ruins were green, cluttering vast, verdant hills that stretched all the way to the horizon. An ancient world, waiting to be discovered anew.

“Ah, just...” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Just watching a genius at work. Respectfully.”

“Respectfully.” He nodded, weathered skin wrinkling with joy.

“And where will it lead to, that first step?” asked another apprentice, observing the scene with a smile.

“To all the right things,” the High Tinker said, not knowing he’d be ash on the wind just a few hours later.

There, that distant glint. Deliverance. If not for her, then for those who might follow.

Ley burst into sobbing.

Her hand formed a fist. A tug hauled indigo skies to the surface.

It had been dark when she leaned over the railing to gaze upon her slumbering home one last time, the faces of those stubborn enough to pursue her shrinking to a row of pale dots in the distance.

She had been cold when they arrived, too late to prevent her from taking off. Cold as ice, so they’d leave. But those pale dots remained, dwarfed by cliffs, then by spires that soon spanned no more than the size of her hand.

Then she saw the lights.

Burial lanterns, meant to guide the deceased - too many to count, like an ocean of fireflies, rising alongside her to the stars.

She was a dead thing playing pretend, long ago buried in her coffin of steel.

An odd shape drifted by. A cut-off mandible, formless splotches of liquid twirling in its wake, like ink left behind by a scared deep-sea creature.

This one was anything but scared. This one was seething with unadulterated rage. She could see it burn in its eyes as she peered over her shoulder, where it wound closer at breakneck speed, determined to put an end to her existence.

“You’re coming with me,” Ley said and turned toward that void-framed patch of blue, hands balled into fists - tethering her, come hell or high water.

Another bite shook what remained of the ship. Her legs finally gave in, knees hitting the floorboards - hands trembling, yes, but not letting go.

A final pull, the muscles in her arms screaming bloody murder.

She gasped for air as the stratosphere hit her - like a slap to the face, gravity squeezing her lungs and her skull. Then her feet lost contact with the floor, and her ship, her trusted companion, began trundling away.

Ahead, there was white, and her screams came out muffled as it swallowed her whole, as dense fog drenched her clothing, the merciless cold seeping into her bones.

Ley covered her face, shuddering, blinking, trying to regain some sense of orientation, but all she saw were swathes of white and pieces of the ship’s hull, diving in and out of the mist, and spinning around their axis the same way she did.

With a loud and painful pop, the pressure on her ears released. Now she heard everything. Harsh winds howling in her ear, her own helpless sobs that turned to a shriek when she fell out of the cloud, and saw the ground closing in at a maddening pace.

As she whirled about, entirely at the mercy of merciless elements, she caught movement above, of something that stirred within that white, swirling mess. 

The last thing Ley saw through a plume of damp lids was its cragged, cloud-framed maw, opening once again to claim her. The last thing she heard, its thunderous roar, before, at last, her eardrums burst.

Ley smiled when her consciousness finally failed, embracing oblivion like a dearly missed friend.

*

Gale had taken to a seat near the fire, taking stock of today’s haul whilst counting his blessings, scarce as the latter were as of late.

These potatoes, for example; the first batch of mostly mould-free ones he’d been able to get his hands on. A rare find, the kind he’d have paid a fortune for, had there been a proper market in the vicinity, and the fortune in question not been reduced to a few piffling coppers.

Thankfully, these little spuds had come free of charge - not counting the blood and sweat it had taken to bring down their previous owner, a scrap so dicey he had, at one point, thought that might’ve been it; their quest brought to a swift, inglorious end, all those riddles left unsolved, the Sword Coast a crater, and Ethel blown to smithereens either way.

To his relief, none of that had occurred. The fight had been won, the day saved, the damsel in distress freed, if arguably still in somewhat questionable company, and so he now sat here at his improvised table, an upside-down crate for a seat, happily pottering away whilst keeping an eye out for four-legged sausage thieves. 

His gaze caught on the stone-encased coal pit, soon to be reignited. Yet another of those blessings: no longer having to sleep around the fireplace, as they had done that first night. A habit they would’ve likely stuck with, had they not been surprised by rain on the second. Gale didn’t mind, and neither did his unfortunately draft-sensitive knees. He was more than glad to retreat to his tent in the evening, indulging in semi-secluded comfort with a book, a spotless conscience, and maybe a glass of something good. Not as good as what he had in his cellar back home, but who was he to look a purloined horse in the mouth?

A deafening crack jolted him from his reverie.

It took him a moment to locate where it came from, as it was, more or less straight away, followed by the clattering of branches to his right, where Nori, freshly returned from their foray, had just dropped her armful of kindling.

She stood there motionless, mouth agape, flanked by Karlach and Wyll, all three gawking up at the sky.

“Good gods,” the warlock muttered. “Again?”

Gale craned his neck, and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a ship, no bigger than the nail of his thumb from a distance, yet close enough to discern that it had nothing to do with mind flayers, given the absence of tentacles or other ill-boding appendages.

A huge portion of it was missing, chunks of what Gale assumed must’ve once been the rear forming a spiralling trail that descended along with it, a hole torn into the cloud whence it all came pouring out.

In there, he glimpsed star-sprinkled darkness and, for a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was how it had been for those on the ground, seconds before the nautiloid came down.

“How’s it that slow?” whispered Nori beside him.

Right. The velocity made no sense whatsoever. Whereas, just the other day, they had screeched from the heavens, this here caravel sank at a leisurely pace, as though gravity wasn’t in play at such heights. Which it most definitely was, as Gale could personally attest to.

“Is it just me, or is that thing glowing?” asked Astarion.

Gale turned to see the others gathered around them; Lae’zel frowning fiercely, Scratch letting out a whine from where he peered out behind Shadowheart, tail tucked between his legs.

What the elf’s keen eye had spotted was indeed peculiar - a bright light, beaming from the core of the ship. Like a stolen star, plucked from the sky by airborne buccaneers, their heist perhaps found out, hence this helter-skelter getaway.

Again, there was a whine, this time much more insistent.

“It’s a’ight, atta boy...” Nori crooned in that soothing timbre, followed by the rustling sound of calloused fingers on fur.

“The fuck is that thing?!” Karlach blurted out, voice warped by panic.

Gale heard the tail end of a growl, a primordial rumble that rolled in like a tidal wave, and, drawing near from within the fog, he saw a winding, eel-like shape. To his right, Lae’zel spat out a curse, and behind them both, warlock and bard groaned in unison.

The cloud’s bottom dented, then billowed and burst, shreds of white spindrift surging a colossal jawline. It opened as it surfaced, and a pair of pale eyes did the same, slit pupils honed in on the ship. The light aboard was now sputtering, dulling, as though aware of its impending doom, expecting to be doused like a lit wick between wet fingers.

And, just for a second, it looked as though it might.

When that beast, that ophidian nightmare, unleashed a roar that had the atmosphere tremble and Gale’s guts twist with fear. When that towering maw loomed up there, wide open, tongue collecting detritus as it rose to reach its source. Right then came a flare, a spiralling groundward thrust. Then they heard the sound of teeth meeting teeth, tailed by a displeased grumble.

About that time, Gale realised that their campsite was situated right where this cosmic horror would come down, should it commit and slip from where it was anchored. That they’d be buried under it, as would the surrounding forest. Around him, the others grew pale as the very same dawned on them. One by one, they broke into hectic chatter and more or less headless bustling about.

Gale barely listened. He was rendered inert, mesmerised by that light where it beelined toward the ground, the forces throttling its propulsion now clearly in decline.

The beast didn’t commit.

That long, pliant body wasn’t readjusting for another strike; it was attempting to withdraw, to flee, because now something else stirred there in the depths - flashes of light, accompanied by a hum that droned and swelled at a foreboding cadence, following that at which the sphere dimmed and brightened.

It was the wyrm’s thrashing that revealed its predicament; the rift’s edge, convulsing, cutting into its neck, scaled lumps of flesh raining from the tumultuous swirl. With a yank, it pulled free, back into the darkness it hailed from, and not a moment too soon as, below, the light stuttered, and the breach above quaked. There was one last flare, a trembling act of resilience, and then the rift snapped shut tight, swathes of white fleeing the clamorous slam.

Gone dark, the ship now came down at a dizzying pace.

“Brace yourselves!” Nori barked, right as the first treetops caught fire.

Gale didn’t recall much of what followed.

Aside from the impact, of course. That less-than-pleasant feeling of the ground being shaken out like a sheet, the lot of them on it sent to flounder about.

And the stench. That had apparently taken up permanent residence in his nostrils. Scorched ground, burnt foliage, now mixed with the pungent miasma of sun-baked, sweltering swamp, as this was where they had followed the trail of smoke in the sky.

Brows furrowed, Gale glanced back to the hillock at the foot of the stairs, where half a dozen dead redcaps rotted in the sinister twilight, and the bodies of Mayrina’s brothers were nowhere to be seen. Hauled off by some vile creature that now had the bog to themselves, he assumed.

It was unsettling, seeing it all like this. Still. Defeated. Their path of destruction carved through by another.

The closer they came to Ethel’s hut, the more he grasped the scale of the devastation. Smouldering willows, their crowns toppled or splintered in half, scorched branches scattered as far as the eye could see. The teahouse itself was mostly unharmed, the front door flapping widely, giving way to the silent, meticulously plundered interior. Yet another haunted ruin, now that its host no longer drew breath.

It took but a moment for them to find what they needed: a narrow, overgrown path leading into the underbrush and up the steepening hills.

Gale walked in relative silence, blindly following those in front of him as he contemplated the ship’s trajectory and its strangely familiar shape. And that ominous light. A focus, perhaps. One of considerable strength, to orchestrate a manoeuvre on such a scale, steering such weight, and with it all being in shambles.

“Hey, you...” Karlach’s voice came from the side.

They hadn’t yet had a chance to talk, Gale realised as he looked up at her. The last day had been a messy blur of events, leaving few opportunities for idle talk and catching up. Or, in her case, first getting to know each other.

“Think someone’s still alive in there?” she asked.

Gale chuckled. “I was pondering the very-”

“Oh, there’s no way anyone could survive such a wholesale disaster,” Astarion cut him short, a dramatic flourish underlining his words. “I’m not sure why we bother. A waste of time, if you ask me.”

To his left, Nori cleared her throat. “May I remind you that, save Scratch and good ol’ Withers, every single one of us has done precisely that?” She made a gesture encompassing the group. “Fall from the sky and survive, I mean.”

“Listen to the lady,” Karlach added, visibly bothered by the elf’s demeanour.

Astarion huffed. “Does it make a difference? Time is ticking, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough outer space nonsense to last me a lifetime.”

“Just head back, if you’re so appalled by the idea of salvaging alien thingamajigs,” Nori said, unwaveringly patient.

“Potentially priceless thingamajigs,” Wyll chimed in, which, to everyone’s surprise, actually gave the elf pause.

Seconds later, he was back to bickering, and Gale returned his attention to Karlach.

“So, regarding your inquiry...” He leaned in, careful not to repeat Wyll’s mistake from earlier. “We’ve no way to be certain, of course, not until we surveyed the crash site, but I wouldn’t rule it out entirely. Who knows? Maybe the forces that saved most of you from the fall saw fit to extend their favour.”

Karlach grinned from ear to ear. “Which would be pretty awesome, right? I mean, there’s another ship, for fuck’s sake. Like, what are the chances?”

“Infinitesimal, to be sure,” Gale replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. “Two such vessels, crashing into the Sword Coast within less than a tenday, one chased by dragons and blood-thirsting hellspawn, the other by, well...”

He paused. The conversation ahead had fallen quiet, several pairs of pricked ears waiting for him to continue.

“My guess is as good as yours,” Gale conceded, clearing his throat. “A wyrm, of sorts. If there’s literature on this very particular type, I’ve yet to get my hands on it.”

“Looked like one of those deep-sea eels that wash up at the shore sometimes,” Nori voiced her take, shuddering at the image. “All squishy and horrendous. And with way too many teeth.“

“And thankfully not quite that size,” Wyll concurred. “But yes, I remember seeing one of those getting pulled from the harbour. Ugly bugger. Like it crawled straight from some Stygian abyss.”

“A crossbreed between Void Scavver and Phase Dragon, perhaps.”

Gale’s head flung around so fast he nearly pulled a muscle.

Lae’zel’s gaze was as stoic as usual, as though she genuinely assumed the terms to be common knowledge.

“Are you implying that your kin have no records of these creatures?” He queried, disbelieving. “Surely such a far-travelled people have catalogued everything that creeps and flies along the strands of outer space?”

“Are you questioning my expertise, wizard?” The gith cocked her head. “I suppose you think yourself the only learned one among us.”

“Oh, heavens forbid, I would never,” Gale spluttered, partly aware that the sun now shone much brighter through the decimated canopy. “I was merely hinting at the unlikely possibility...”

“My kin have explored the farthest frontiers of the Astral Sea, and continue to do so as we speak,” Lae’zel carried on, voice scolding. “Every discovery chronicled and immortalised in the grand library of Tu’narath, as by our queen’s decree. And yet, even to us, the majority of Wildspace remains uncharted territory.”

When those in front halted abruptly, Gale turned to face forward, fumbling hard so as not to run over Nori, only to bump into Shadowheart instead. She barely acknowledged his apology, gawping at the view before them. 

Gale couldn’t help but do so in kind.

It was an astonishing sight: the valley, picturesquely framed by rolling hills and chalk-white cliffs, ancient conifers towering along the edges.

Amidst it all - the smoking wreck, the earth around it raw and bare, gaping wide open like a freshly torn wound. It lay on its side, what remained of the rear splintered and hanging on by a thread. A broken carcass, the gleaming heart Gale saw through its ribs still dimly flickering, still holding on, its rhythmic pulse decelerating. A beached whale in the last throes of death, vanquished by the laws of motion it had so bravely thwarted.

Lae’zel stepped up to his side. “So, no. I’ve not heard tell of encounters with such a monstrosity. Nor have I laid eyes on records depicting this type of vessel.”

“Huh...” said Nori. “Wonder if there’s a reason for that.”

“Maybe no one survived those encounters,” Wyll suggested.

“Or maybe she’s not as well-read as she claims,” teased Shadowheart in a very much audible whisper.

Lae’zel strode them by with a scoff.

“Was that really necessary?” Nori chided the cleric, for once truly annoyed.

They fanned out as they made their way into the vale, clambering over heaps of rubble that formed confused patterns on the ground, shielding their eyes against sooty fumes and idly whirling fiery sparks.

Before long, Gale found himself dogging Lae’zel’s footsteps. He knew she was as uninterested as he was in scouring for valuables and more keen to learn about the how and the why. And so he followed, gradually closing in on the ship’s pulsing heart, where he assumed most answers to lie.

“Are these... planters?” he muttered. Ahead, the gith slowed to a halt.

They were scattered all over, right about where they stood; shards of massive earthen pots, most shattered into grain-sized fragments or molten to glossy lumps. Others were recognisable, what remained of their contents burnt to dirt-crusted residue.

With the dull end of his staff, Gale carefully rummaged through the pieces. From the right, lavishly adorned boots approached, ochre toes encased by steel.

“They would raise crops along their voyage?” Lae’zel inquired, voice tinged by a hint of disdain. “A... curious notion.”

Gale chuckled. “I don’t suppose horticulture is a well-known practice amongst gith.”

“It is,” she said, and Gale looked up to see her stub nose wrinkling. “What we don’t hunt, the g’lathk grow. But their produce is rarely in demand.”

He blinked at her. “How so?“

“Our great cities lie in the Astral Plane,” Lae’zel explained. “It is there we spent most of our days, upon reaching adulthood.”

Gale donned a confused grin, still not quite sure what this implied.

The gith’s lips twitched - he hoped with amusement. “Where time does not pass, one does not need nourishment.”

“Oh! So...” Gale let his gaze drift over broken crocks and vases, to what might’ve once been furniture. Remnants of a compact household, shattered beyond recognition. “So... this was meant to be self-sufficient. Well, provided these did indeed contain crops. Could’ve been anything else for that matter.”

“Either way,” Lae’zel inclined her head. “They are unlikely to have grown in the Astral.”

“Meaning this ship mainly or exclusively travelled this plane.” Shuddering, Gale shook his head. “What a dismally dreary prospect. To set sail into the pitch-black void, so drab even the gods stay clear.”

“Yeah, who’d do that?” said Nori out of nowhere.

The bard had her hands on her hips, squinting inquisitively from one to the other.

“Yes,” the elf snarled as he ambled in, too. “Who indeed. Voluntarily forgo sunshine, the pleasures of civilised life. Commit to seeing the same old faces each and every gods damned day...”

“No, I mean it,” Nori said nonchalantly, gesturing them along with a crooked halfling finger. “ Who would do that? What kind of crew are we talking?”

It was the gap in the ship’s hull that they were closing in on, through thickening air that had Gale’s lungs ache in protest, flanked by vast heaps of debris, the tattered remnants of what had to have been the main sail dangling from the toppled mast in loosely fluttering stripes. And there, through the crack, he saw the sphere, emitting that same subtle, crackling hum he recalled from earlier, right before the rift snapped shut.

“Pirates...” Karlach whispered reverently as they passed a massive anchor, the links of the chain each as long as her forearm now messily curled up in the dirt.

“Possible.” Gale hummed, head dipping sideways. “Though corsairs are not commonly known to bother with onboard gardening.”

Lae’zel clicked her tongue. “This is not a raiding vessel.”

As they walked, she pulled her sword, dragging the edge over a chunk of debris; gnarly and grained, like fossilised bark. Under the blade’s touch, however, it produced the telltale screech of metal.

“Remarkably robust,” she said. “More than wood should be.”

Eyes narrowing, she repeated the motion, causing Gale to flinch at the toe-curling sound. Lae’zel, unmoved, flipped the clumsy piece with her boot, the profile showing a multitude of different-coloured layers.

“Several materials, welded atop each other,” Gale deduced. “Not built in one go, but enhanced step by step.”

Lae’zel nodded. “An improvised solution. Lacking in efficiency, of course, compared to ours.”

“Of course,” Astarion jeered. The mockery went unacknowledged, which Gale thought was probably better for the elf.

“You’re the closest thing we have to an expert,” Nori declared in that seasoned-veteran tone of hers, side-eying the gith intensely. “What do you make of this mess?”

“I’d say this is a work of necessity,” Lae’zel concluded. “Not built for a singular mission, but a consequence of enduring many.”

Nori’s stern gaze flicked to Gale.

“I would agree,” he said as they proceeded deeper into the fog, where, further ahead, he could make out Wyll and Shadowheart, both moving about busily. “The way I see it, this was built with autonomy in mind. I wager they didn’t plan to land for a while. If at all.“

From this close, the scale of it was imposing, to say the least. A disembowelled giant, not quite deceased, guts gleaming from within, all of it shrouded in swathes of dust, the way inside barred by splintered planks and rods that loomed threateningly in the murk, as if to keep them from entering.

“The question remains,” Nori said as they came up to where the others were halfway done clearing a path through the debris. “Who boards a thing like this, improving it on the fly, not planning to raid, now knowing if their feet will ever meet solid ground again?”

“ M’lar ,” Lae’zel proposed solemnly. “Artificers, in your tongue. Unexperienced, in this case, but cunning enough to find a way to make do.”

“A mage as well,” Gale mused, running a hand through his beard. “More than one, possibly.“

Nori contemplated this, pausing for a moment.

“Peachy,” she then said, and, with that, commenced to strut toward the breach that gaped there in the twilight like a jagged, sideways grin.

It was no more than a tingle of unease Gale felt upon crossing the threshold. That sinking feeling of having forgotten something important. A portentous dream, lost upon awaking. The keys nowhere to be found halfway down the street.

Inside, the sensation grew to bristling intensity, more so with every step they advanced. As though some unseen entity were sizing them up, lurking just outside their view.

“More than one,” he repeated mindlessly.

To his side stood Astarion, for once sizing him up without disdain. “Pardon?”

“Have you...” Gale mumbled, turning as he looked around. “Have you seen any bodies, by chance?”

“Not one,” said the elf, now scanning their surroundings himself.

All around them, there was rubble - an ocean of scrap and detritus that filled the bowels of the ship, with the hulking sphere throning above it. Gale hadn’t realised how large it was from a distance. But there it was, spanning twice his height in diameter, embedded in that malformed socket, the connecting machinery either molten or torn off.

And still, it remained active.

Whatever spellwork it contained was dissipating, but with what was left, it clung to life - gleaming like a dying star, with dark veins painted all across and flames spurting out randomly.

“There’s no one here!” Astarion blurted out. “How is there not a single corpse?!”

The sphere flared up.

Wyll sheathed his rapier, cautious not to make a sound. “Is this a trap?” he said to Nori. “Some twisted ambush?”

“Easy now,” Nori soothed, her voice all unconcerned placidity, but Gale heard the wary undertone, saw the instinctive reach for the lute.

Another fiery burst of light, throwing their shadows manifold onto the cluttered ground, the walls, where they danced in hypnotic patterns.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Astarion pulled his daggers with a chink, slowly backing away. “And we’ve walked right into it, the bumbling idiots we are.”

“Maybe it’s a ghost ship,” Shadowheart mused, her tone half-tease, half anxious. “Ferrying just wrath and wraiths.”

Another burst. Demanding attention.

“A mage, you said?” Nori asked, eyes narrowed as she peered at Gale.

“Well, I would certainly think so,” he laughed, a sound that rang all sorts of wrong. “Unless this thing flies by itself, which-”

“It doesn’t,” Karlach whispered.

Next to her, Shadowheart gasped, gaze rising to where the tiefling’s lingered, and so they turned to follow it.

Up there, in rafters that had once been floor or wall, knelt a slender, shade-veiled figure amidst jutting bronze pipes.

“Hello there,” Nori said, her voice honeyed, trouble-free.

For a moment that stretched on, they all stood there motionless, watching, waiting, eyes scouring the ash-flecked dusk.

No reaction. Not even from the simmering sphere.

Something didn’t look right about the way they sat there. Not quite sitting, not quite upright, head dangling, as were the limbs. A few loose strands of mussed-up hair stirred in the draft, and that eerie feel crept closer, into Gale’s bones, into the marrow, until he couldn’t take more of it - of being watched whilst dallying blindly, so he, with a whispered arcane word and a deft flick of his fingers, conjured a Mage Light to his palm.

The response came right away.

Another flare of fiery light, so bright it had them cover their eyes, and the hum swelled to a rumble; a seething, vengeful, broiling sound, like a storm front gathering.

“Oh, wonderful,” Astarion jeered. “You made it angry.”

“Come on, that was bound to happen,” countered Nori.

Gale, for once, had nothing to add. He watched, enthralled, as that twinkling mote took flight and more flashes followed, their frequency increasing. There was a fierceness to them now, a desperate resilience, as though his conjured illumination threatened to unveil secrets on its way, up towards the mess of splinters that was the caved-in main deck. Through them, Gale saw dimmed, sky-blue slivers, dulled by wafts of ashen grey.

And below: a blood-specked chin, blank eyes halfway veiled by the shade of a hood.

A woman. Dead.

Not kneeling, as he had first assumed. She hung, quite literally impaled by the debris; a metal rod, a crude, thick thing protruding from her lifeless chest.

A chest that, with each burst of light, glowed ever-so-faintly from within.

“Is this thing rigged?” Karlach bawled. “She gonna blow?”

“No,” said Gale. “I don’t think...”

Another set of rapid bursts. A pulse, a plea, a passed-on heartbeat.

“... I think we’re witnessing a revivification.”

“Bit of an unconventional one,” Shadowheart nodded, eyes trained on the stranger’s ribcage, where it gleamed below the rags. “But yes, you’re right. She’s coming back.”

Above their heads; a rattling sigh. Gale saw lids quivering, a hand twitching reflexively. Behind, the sphere kept flaring on.

“Poor thing’s gonna be in a helluva lot of pain,” Karlach stated, fingers raking her sternum.

“Gosh darn it, you‘re right, of course,” Nori muttered, posture tensing as if to set up for a sprint.

Up there, the woman, one by one, unclasped her eyes, gaze roaming the scenery. Unsteady and delirious, it skimmed over Karlach’s skin, Wyll’s horns, then lingered on Astarion’s daggers for a visibly confused moment.

Then a dirt-smeared hand pawed at the air, grazing the rod by accident, and her body shook in pain.

It took her a moment to comprehend. Wide-eyed, she blinked down at it - the rod, her hand, the blood on it. Then at their faces, all those assembled at her feet, the horns, the daggers, and bleariness gave way to fear.

“Shit,” said Wyll.

“जे छथि?”, the stranger whimpered.

Then she beheld the Mage Light, twinkling there above the sphere that had dulled almost entirely, and she pressed out a shuddering croak.

Gale snuffed it out, rushed by a sudden pang of guilt.

If anything, that made it worse. Now her gaze fell onto him - as he stood there, just as helpless and harbouring no ill intent but lacking the means to let her know.

With a wail, she clasped the metal, grime-smeared fingers sliding off, boots scrabbling aimlessly.

“No, no, no...” Nori jolted into motion, the tiefling on her heels, several scree avalanches coming loose under their feet.

Now there was only mindless panic. Gale saw crimson dappling the ground, dripping from tight-clutched hands, saw the stranger’s face contort as she heaved herself along.

Then, a crack, a blistering sizzle, the sphere‘s socket crumbling, breaking. Its contents glimmered threateningly, a last flare building at the core.

Ahead, Gale made out Nori’s voice. Attempting to soothe, he wagered.

Within the woman’s pain-filled eyes, he saw white-hot flames ignite. Before he could sound a word of warning, she plunged onto the splintered heaps. A hand pressed to the oozing wound, she staggered backwards, away from Nori’s stretched-out hand, lips parting to a fearful scream.

What she unleashed was not a scream, but a dazzling burst of light, and for a while, there was no seeing anything.

Chapter Text

Stalker

*

It was getting close to nightfall and in a quaint nook along the bends of the Chionthar, the daily bustle of life was about to give way to unperturbed tranquillity.

The sun had concluded its westward journey, a few last rays blinking through the forest’s patchy foliage to paint the riverbank in a delicate pattern of purplish hues. The air was filled with the sleepy buzzing of bees, and the equally exhausted chirps of tiny, but surprisingly vocal birds, exchanging the last bits of gossip before they could finally tuck their heads under their wings. A tiring chore, as, lately, these parts had seen quite a number of unsettling events.

Unbeknownst to them, the one responsible for the last such disturbance lay sprawled on the riverbank just a few feet from their thicket. A fact that would’ve undoubtedly caused a bit of an uproar, had they been aware of her presence. Even though that one, given who she was and where she hailed from, would’ve normally taken her sweet time to relish in the spectacle of colours and the brook’s gentle murmurs, even in their busy tweeting that, fortunately, was loud enough to drown out most other sounds - including all those groans and curses perpetually spurting from her lips.

Which was a good thing, because the last thing Ley needed right now was attention.

Gritting her teeth, she reached for her chest, trying to map out the edges of the wound and the tear in her tunic. Both seemed rather sizeable. No surprise there.

Today was just one of these days, it seemed. Where the universe seemed determined to funnel a year’s worth of bad luck into a few horrific hours.

There had been no shortage of those throughout her voyage, but this one arguably combined the worst of them all. An amalgamation of worst-case scenarios, every single one resulting in its worst possible outcome; leaving her stranded on a planet somewhere on the outer rim, her trusty ship reduced to a sweltering heap of scrap, and with a hole between her ribs, thick as her forearm, that just wouldn’t stop aching.

She winced and brought her fingers to the scab that had formed below the fabric. At least it wasn’t bleeding as much as it could’ve under other circumstances, thanks to the instinctive response of her begrudgingly tolerated hitchhiker.

Painful as it had been, the Thing springing into action and immediately cauterising the wound had saved her a world of trouble. Of course, she would’ve been able to deal with it on her own. Eventually. Given a few days of undisturbed rest, which she, admittedly, was unlikely to get any time soon. And medication, of which she’d probably see just as little.

Suppose I should be grateful it missed my heart, Ley thought, eyes screwing shut as she turned her focus inwards.

The pole had shattered her sixth rib at the front and bruised several more on the back, right next to her spine. She had to assume some organs had taken a hit in the process. Most of all, her lung, which must’ve been right in the way. The latter was a problem. She could hear it wheezing and bubbling. Felt it stinging in there with every rise and fall of her chest. She had a leak. Or maybe more than one.

Ley shuddered and tried to divert her attention toward something less unnerving.

The pleasant warmth of the sand in her back, for example. Heated by a friendly sun that shone on a world teeming with life - the friendliness of which had yet to be determined, but still. She’d take what she could get. Carefully spreading her arms to either side, Ley took a deep, exhausted breath.

Which quickly turned into a ragged, blood-spurting cough.

She sat up, flinching at the spike of pain that jolted through her stomach. Buried her face in her hands and tried her best not to burst into tears.

Despair wasn’t new to her. Neither was pain. She had lived through all of it. Broken bones, severed limbs, melting guts when the Thing lost control. All of it, she had survived. Beaten and marred, but, for the most part, unbroken. Because It wouldn’t let her go. Would try to undo the damage, no matter how limited it’s understanding of human anatomy.

But through all that time, she had never felt this vulnerable.

Unable to take to the sky again, once whatever threat there was had successfully been dealt with. Not knowing how to get home. Unable to draw upon the reserves stored away in the sphere. For bad days. For desperate situations. It had never even been close to depleted.

Now it was snuffed out, no more than a husk within the lifeless hull of her ship.

She was alone. Even more so than she had been out there. Down here, amidst a billion other lifeforms, she was the only one that didn’t belong. Small and inconsequential. As were her hopes of survival. Ley swallowed around the lump in her throat.

Quit your whining, she scolded herself. Wallowing in pity has never helped with anything.

After counting her breaths for a long moment, shaky as they were, her pulse began to steady and the icy fist around her heart began loosening its grip.

So far, so good, Ley thought. Now all you have to do is think.

Right. She was good at that. That and fixing things. Whether those be neat little gizmos for entertainment purposes or complex machinery. Or vessels able to traverse Wildspace, for that matter.

A surge of memories flooded her mind, and anxiety gave way to defiant determination.

There was a reason she’d been able to survive as long as she did, after all. Alone and under the worst possible conditions. This was just another puzzle waiting to be pieced together.

First problem - lack of information.

She didn’t know the rules of this world. Had no clue as to the dangers posed by wildlife or poisonous plants, not to mention its two-legged inhabitants, who, in her experience, had a good chance of turning out to be hostile.

They were also the most promising source of information she could think of.

Second, she continued, calmer now that the gears in her head had set into motion. Shelter. Or a safe place to rest, at least.

Scouring the wilds for caves or abandoned building was out of the question. Too many risks she was not equipped to deal with. Before her unfortunate descent, she’d seek refuge in the belly of her ship, between books and plants and cosy things, able to flee at the first sign of danger with but a flick of the wrist. That had been enough, for her at least, to evade most threats lurking in the void’s limitless expanse.

Here, the threats might be smaller, but by far outnumbering the ones she was used to.

An issue easily remedied by outnumbering them in turn.

She’d have to figure out a way to establish communication, of course. And hope they wouldn’t cut her throat before she gained the means to plead her case. Or take her prisoner. Or sell her into slavery. Or do whatever else people usually did to strangers around here.

Bile rose in her throat, sour and vile.

She attempted to sit up, only to promptly slump back down, whimpering as her abdominal muscles squeezed against the wound. Both arms flopping to the sides once more, Ley sighed and glared at the sky.

They had looked in her direction after the flash.

Which was odd, because she was fairly sure she hadn’t left any tracks. She had taken to the treeline, hunkered down between gnarly roots, shapeshifted and carefully observing their every move, half-expecting them to follow and drag her from her hiding spot.

But they hadn’t.

It might have been the one that kept further away. That one with the white hair. He may have been just out of reach, able to see whilst the others were still blinded. And revealing her position once they regained their vision.

Eventually, she had retreated deeper into the forest. Sluggish from exhaustion and fearing her legs might give in any moment. The last she had caught from the corner of her eye was the small one and the man in purple nearing her burnt-out sphere, touching its shell with their bare hands. A bizarre notion, given that mere hours ago, standing this close would’ve cost them their eyebrows.

Limping and with gritted teeth, she had trudged off, stumbling over an embarrassing number of branches as she tried to find a place secluded enough to lick her wounds in peace.

Maybe she should have stayed a bit longer. To wait and see how they treated her ship.

Thinking about it in hindsight, their behaviour hadn’t necessarily been hostile. Curious, yes, understandably so, and a bit daring as well - something she’d heartily approve of under different circumstances. But not hostile.

She couldn’t get that image out of her mind - of that woman she had mistaken for a child at first, wide-eyed and babbling gibberish as she scuttled closer. The words themselves had made no sense whatsoever, as was to be expected, but her tone hadn’t been the least bit threatening.

Part of her regretted what had transpired afterwards. Of course, her reaction couldn’t have turned out any other way than it had. Shipwrecked and mortally wounded on an unknown planet with half a dozen of its inhabitants heading straight towards her  - running had been the only reasonable thing to do. And blinding them to ensure she’d get away safely, the Thing’s instinctive reaction.

Now those people might be her only lifeline. She’d have to hope they were in a forgiving mood.

But then nobody said she’d have to barge right in. She could take it slow. Study them from afar and get a feeling for how they’d react when faced with the unexpected.

Provided their trail wasn’t already cold.

One step after the other, she reminded herself. First, you’ve got to make sure you can move.

Carefully leaning on her arm, she shifted her weight to one side and rose to her knees. Knuckles cracked as bones and joints bent into shape, and nails curved into claws. Fur sprouted from her skin, tingling and pricking as it spread in all directions, wrapping her in a coat of silken, moon-kissed silver. She shuddered. Then blinked, slit pupils adapting to the light.

With a contented grumble, she took a few deliberately careful steps.

The wound was still there, but considerably less in the way. If she abstained from straining her abdominal muscles too much, the pain might even be bearable.

Carefully, Ley pricked her ears and filled her lungs, taking in the sounds of the forest and its hundreds of entangled scents, just waiting to be unravelled.

Deep within that muddled mess, a whiff of smoke. And voices in the distance.

With a somewhat more confident huff, Ley set into motion.

*

Nori watched in silence as Shadowheart carried away the last of the plates and Gale flicked his wrist to rekindle the fire.

Today’s investigation had been fruitful enough to satisfy her initial curiosity but had ultimately only thrown up more questions. Questions that would remain unanswered, at least for now, if they wanted to resolve the situation at the Grove before Kagha stood a chance to complete that ludicrous ritual.

And now they had lost half a day bumbling around in that wreckage with nothing to show for it.

Well, not entirely, she thought and took a swig of ale. Eyes flicking toward Lae’zel’s tent, where that silly little Mindflayer mockup - which Nori had come to view as more adorable than frightful, a notion she’d, of course, never dare voice aloud - now had to share its prominent spot next to the entrance with a massive chunk of wood. A piece of the hull the gith had, for whatever reason, insisted on hauling back all the way from the crash site.

Nori’s best guess was that the thing would eventually end up being remodelled into a more practical appliance. Likely some kind of armament, given who now owned it.

She cocked her head, briefly pondering how the hells one would even go about reforging wood. And how big the Lae’zel’s disappointment would be if such an attempt would just lead to it going up in flames.

Then she shrugged and made her way back to the fire.

With a sigh, she hopped onto her usual spot on one of the logs, Wyll to one side and Gale to the other. Watching as Shadowheart re-emerged from the kitchen tent, hauling an enormous iron kettle by the handle. A clunky thing, and undoubtedly quite heavy. The cleric didn’t seem to mind. She approached Karlach with a smile and exchanged a few hushed words with her. The tiefling laughed and reached for the bottom of the kettle. Fiery lights danced over her skin, her fingers gleamed bright orange, and then the water inside started to seethe. Both women giggled with glee.

Nori gave a weary chuckle.

To her right, Wyll did the same. He looked about as tired as she felt.

Out of the five days they had so far spent hosting tadpoles and chasing cultists, this was definitely one of the more draining ones. Not quite as nerve-wracking as the first, but a close runner-up in terms of densely packed action. To think that just a few hours ago, they had been stumbling over their feet deep within the bowels of a hag’s lair, dealing with cursed mirrors and those poor mask-wearing sods who-

“An interesting read?” Wyll’s voice ripped her from her ruminations.

The warlock, arms propped on his knees, threw a curious glance at the book splayed over Gale’s lap. The only other noteworthy find, if Lae’zel’s chunk of wood could be considered as such.

The wizard reluctantly lifted his head.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied and tapped at the page. It was completely blank. “It seems a little averse to the idea of revealing its secrets. Here, take a look for yourself…”

He leafed forward, and for a moment, Nori saw a dense web of runes and detailed illustrations fluttering by. When his hand came to a halt, they faded away in the blink of an eye, like a swarm of skittish insects shying away from an unknown intruder.

“Oooh, that is neat!” She grinned enthusiastically.

“A logbook, perhaps,” Lae’zel pondered, curiously clicking her tongue. “Property of the captain, most likely. Or perhaps the navigator.”

“Whatever the case, the one it belonged to certainly knew what they were doing,” Gale nodded sagaciously, lips twitching as he scowled at the pages. “It’s not often one gets to encounter such an elaborate warding spell. I’m not even sure what kind of source they’ve drawn upon to craft it.”

“Am I hearing this right? The famed Gale of Waterdeep can’t wrap his head around a simple enchantment?” Astarion sneered from the side. As per usual, no one had heard him approach.

Nori sighed, preparing to settle yet another argument between the two equally thick-headed men. Fortunately, the wizard was entirely too distracted to fall for the elf’s glaringly obvious bait.

“If it were in any way connected to the Weave, that wouldn’t pose an issue,” he mumbled, fingers absently skimming over the parchment, as if to check if the runes were still in there. “Alas, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

His hand formed a brief sequence of gestures, ghostly purple threats trailing behind his fingers before they sunk onto the page.

Whatever he had hoped to accomplish with that, the results were a little underwhelming. The spell evaporated in a puff of purple mist, like a candle snuffed out by a draft.

“Fascinating…” Gale squinted, paying no heed to Astarion’s gloating snicker. Instead, he turned to Nori, eyes brimming with excitement. “Whatever the source, it’s unlike any other I’ve ever come in contact with. It is related to what we know, of that I have no doubt, but the way in which it was used here…”

As he spoke, his hand drew confused shapes on the paper. Nori couldn’t help but grin.

“… follows no discernible pattern. As if the one who crafted it just scooped a handful of raw force directly from the ether and chucked it onto the pages, unrefined as it was.”

Nori nodded. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Gale raised her a brow.

“That girl…” She set to explain, twisting the mug in her hands as she fumbled for words. “You should’ve seen the look on her face. Like a deer cornered by a pack of wolves. I don’t think she planned to do that, you know?”

“Maybe it hopped out on its own,” Karlach chimed in out of nowhere. “Like some bright, sparkly guard dog. Wait, isn’t that a thing…?”

She threw an inquiring glance at Gale.

“Magic going haywire? I could swear I heard that somewhere.”

The wizard nodded, although not particularly enthused. “There are indeed some forms that…” He made an uncertain gesture. “… are a little opposed to being tamed. Met a few sorcerers with that issue. One sneeze at the dinner table and you may end up being choked by a roomful of tentacles.”

“You may what now…?” Astarion’s head jerked around, the conversation suddenly more interesting than the knife he had been playing with.

“Or get turned into a dog for a few hours…” Gale continued, oblivious to the elf’s salacious smirk. “I’ve once made the acquaintance of a gentleman with the habit of changing colour whenever he had a hiccup. Quite the entertaining spectacle. For everyone but him, that is.”

Wyll chuckled into his ale. “Think I’d rather get blinded for a second.”

Across the fire, Karlach showed her stretched-out hands to Shadowheart. “Think blue would suit me?”

That earned her a heartfelt laugh. “I’d stick with red if I were you.” Then, with a flirtatious wink; “Brings your eyes out so much better.”

Also makes it conveniently impossible to blush, Nori thought, watching with some amusement how the burly tiefling began crumbling into herself, flustered at the compliment.

“Speaking of spectacles…” Astarion mumbled broodingly, forefinger circling the rim of his goblet. “The two of you have scoured the area for a bit, right?” Crimson eyes locked in on Wyll, then flicked over to Karlach. “Did you by chance pick up on her trail?”

“Well, yeah…” The tiefling replied, a little befuddled. “Leading away from us, obviously. And then ended pretty abruptly, just outside the wreckage.”

“Must’ve covered her tracks at some point,” Wyll nodded with a laugh. “Or who knows, maybe she grew wings.”

“Were there any claw marks, perhaps?” Astarion inquired innocently.

“There might have been,” the warlock replied, slightly puzzled. “We weren’t exactly on the lookout for those. Why?”

“Oh, nothing of note…” The elf shrugged and made a throwaway gesture, basking in their collective attention. “It just so happens that our little friend has been following us. On four legs, instead of two.”

“Wait, what…?” Karlach leaned forward.

Gale looked up from the book. Wyll whirled around and nearly spilled his ale. Lae’zel hissed something in Githyanki, then commenced staring down the treeline with murderous intent.

“You saw her?” Nori asked quietly, straightening up.

“Indeed, I have, my dear,” Astarion purred gleefully. “Whilst the rest of you were tripping over your feet because you couldn’t help but play hero again. Ran off into the woods. Well, if you can call that running - hobbling might be more accurate. Poor thing tried so hard not to get spotted…”

He sighed dramatically, relishing his moment in the spotlight. With a teasing smirk, he nudged his chin toward the far side of the camp.

“Might still catch a glimpse, if you’re quick. Up there, on the cliffs…”

Six heads turned in said direction and, for a split second, they saw bright yellow eyes blink and then close, the outline of a giant animal melding with the shadows.

“But…” Karlach stammered, still staring at the nothingness right above Shadowheart’s tent. “I mean, then why run at all?”

“Tsk!” Lae’zel scoffed, her tone somewhere between scolding and pitiful. “To study the local fauna, of course. A commendable choice, given her state.”

“We’re…” Karlach looked at the gith with boundless confusion. “We’re the fauna…?”

“You’d be just as alien to her as you were to me,” the gith asserted impartially.

“Didn’t think I’d see the day where I’m considered the alien,” Shadowheart muttered, to which Lae’zel’s menacing glare switched targets in an instant.

Nori poked Gale with her elbow. “Fits in perfectly with the whole Wild Magic theme, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does,” the wizard laughed amiably. “Although I don’t believe this is necessarily the result of-“

“Are none of you concerned about this?” Shadowheart asked quietly and looked around their faces. “Being observed by a shapeshifter from who-knows-where, not only capable of surviving impalement but also dabbling with forces neither of us has any experience with?”

“Nah, not really,” Karlach deadpanned with a grin.

The cleric’s lips twitched upward. “How come?”

Karlach shrugged. “Could’ve melted our butts, I’m pretty sure. Or at least scorch off the odd eyebrow. But she didn’t. Just threw some flashy lights our way so she could make a dash for the exit.”

“She’s right,” Wyll added from the side. “The situation had every potential to end in a disaster.”

Nori hummed in agreement. “Nice to see no one getting hurt for a change. Well, apart from the one currently licking her wounds up there.”

“Who could still cause us trouble,” Shadowheart countered, her tone much more composed than would befit her worried expression, Nori noted curiously. “There’s no predicting what could happen the next time she feels under threat, no matter her intentions.”

Silence stretched on for a moment.

Then Gale cleared his throat and rose to his feet, the book tucked under his arm.

“Might doubling our guard for the night put some of your worries to rest?” He flashed the cleric a reassuring smile. “I honestly don’t think such measures necessary, but if that’s what it takes to ensure everyone gets their duly earned sleep, I say it’s worth the effort. I’d volunteer to take the first watch.”

Which would also give you time to try and get around those wards, Nori mused and yawned a grin into her collar. But the others don’t have to know that, right?

The wizard’s suggestion was met with a round of tired nodding. Wyll stretched his arms until Nori heard his knuckles crack. Karlach rubbed her eyes, now a tad less big and fearsome. Astarion threw another glance at the clifftop, then gulped down his wine and got up from the log.

The cleric, however, held back Gale as he went to leave for his tent.

“Why wouldn’t it be necessary?” she asked sceptically. “Just because she’s injured? That didn’t keep her from following us all the way here.”

The look that got her in response was one of profound irritation.

“May I remind you that woman had a hole torn straight through her chest? Now, I’m no healer, but even I can imagine how weakened that must’ve left her. Recovering from the blood loss alone might take days. And besides, the shock must have taken a toll as well. Just think about our first night after the crash.”

His last words came with an all-encompassing gesture around the camp.

That very first night had by far been the hardest. Between crippling fear of what awaited them should the worms in their heads fulfil their purpose, and the harsh discomfort of having nothing but a tattered bedroll between their weary bones and the stone-cold ground, finding sleep had been a nigh-on impossible undertaking. Not to mention the awkwardness of huddling around the fire with a bunch of strangers they had met mere hours ago.

Yes, Nori remembered it vividly. As did Shadowheart, she was fairly certain.

“Alright then,” the cleric mumbled, “I suppose, under such circumstances, seeking safety in numbers is only reasonable.”

“There.” Gale gave a polite little flourish. His hand returned to the book within the second, continuing to fumble with the cover. “And rest assured, in case my prediction proves flawed, I’ll wake the rest of you straight away.”

“I will join the wizard on the first watch,” Lae’zel declared magnanimously. “To ensure he doesn’t get distracted from his duties.”

Nori snickered quietly as Gale cursed under his breath.

*

A little while later, on a rocky outcrop close to the river, Ley had trouble keeping her eyes open.

Over the last hour or so, exhaustion had finally caught up to her, and now her legs felt so heavy she probably couldn’t get up if she wanted to.

The spot she had found was ideal. Both because she had the entire camp in her sight and, at long last, found a comfortable position, her back against a boulder, which allowed her to lie on the side without straining the muscles around the still-aching belly. And to observe the fascinating discourse below.

It didn’t matter that she didn't understand the words themselves. Their overall amiable tone was enough to disperse most of her initial fear, and the way they interacted with each other gave her a pretty good impression of who stood where in the hierarchy.

Several different species, it seems, she thought, marvelling at all those horns and adornments and the hues of their skin. All speaking the same language. What are the chances?

Though some seemed a little more different from the rest. That green-skinned woman, for example, who, to Ley’s amusement, had dragged a chunk of her ship back from the crash site and then propped it up next to her tent like a trophy. Or a souvenir. Or perhaps she had plans to build a ship of her own. A really, really tiny one.

Ley chuckled and yawned, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through her chest. With a defeated sigh, she leaned back and craned her neck, resting her chin on the paw that dangled over the edge.

The clearing was quiet now, and only two of them were still up and about.

Patrolling the camp, the green-skinned rubble thief, her stance undeniably that of a soldier, judging by her stern expression and ever-watchful eyes. The other, that bearded man in purple, who, for a long while, just sat by the fire and stared into the flames.

The woman was just about to pass him when he rose to his feet and, after a quiet exchange of words, joined her on her rounds. They paced along the far side of the clearing, vanished behind a rock formation, and reemerged near the river. Right at the foot of Ley’s cliff, they came to a halt.

Ley hurried to remove her paw from the edge, lids lowered to hide her scintillating eyes. When the man began to speak, she leaned forward and pricked her ears.

The first thing she noticed was his unreasonably dulcet voice. The kind that would probably stand a good chance of lulling her to sleep if he kept on talking. Fortunately for her, the green-skinned lady didn’t seem in the mood for long-winded monologues. She crossed her arms, head cocked in impatience. He responded with a laugh and gestured at the ground.

When he then raised his hand again, Ley noted something else. A subtle sensation, no more than a tingle at the edge of her mind. Like a gentle, lingering melody, hidden beneath some unseen veil that stirred ever so slightly as his fingers began to draw symbols in the air, focused to a pinpoint at their tip as though he was painting with it. He murmured something under his breath, words that echoed through Ley’s head like the bristling of static charge. She watched, flabbergasted and on the verge of revealing herself with a squeal, as trails of purple light manifested and sunk to the ground in the form of a sigil, its lines flashing up before they faded against the sand.

His companion didn’t seem too impressed by that marvellous feat. On the contrary; she hissed a few comments in a tongue much sharper than the one they had conversed in earlier. He chuckled and replied in a tone that was probably meant to be assuaging - which made her even grumpier.

Seizing the opportunity of their ensuing squabble, Ley scrambled closer to the edge and filled her lungs with air that still carried a whiff of whatever it was he had just drawn upon. It felt warm. Comforting. Controlled. And so very, very different from what she was used to dabbling with.

As if roused by that notion, the Thing writhed in its slumber and came to the front. Seizing up the strangers with the incorporeal version of a thoroughly disgruntled yawn.

Just for a second, the man in purple froze.

Ley ducked back behind the edge, wincing in agony as she pressed herself flat against the ground.

He resumed his tirade as if nothing happened, blithely rambling on whilst gesturing for the woman to follow. They strolled off toward the other side of the clearing, where he repeated the procedure in half a dozen other places.

It took a while until Ley felt confident enough to open her eyes and scan her surroundings, bidding the Thing to quiet down as she searched for another vantage point. One she could flee to, should the situation call for it.

She knew she’d had been spotted earlier on. First by that man with the tuft of white curls and conspicuously red eyes, and then by all of them - revealed by the rudely pointed finger of said bean-spilling tattletale. Their heads had yanked around so fast some of them might’ve pulled a muscle or two.

Which she would have deemed hilarious had she not been this dreadfully frightened.

Perhaps it was for the better. That they had an idea where she was instead of going to sleep, knowing some alien predator was skulking about in the dark.

Purple-robes and green grouch seemed to have concluded their business, the former now on his way back to the fire. He took a seat, then bent down to rummage through the pack at his feet. When his hand came back out, it clasped the spine of a book.

Her book.

Ley forgot to breathe. Once again, she watched in silence as he placed it on his lap, shell-shocked at the notion of a stranger fiddling around with her most priced possession. One she had somehow forgotten about amidst the whirlwind of events that had taken her day by storm.

Nimble fingers opened the cover, then parted the pages with the utmost care, as if he expected them to crumble away under his touch. Ley took a few deep, wheezing breaths. Her eyes wandered to what she assumed to be his tent, then to the neatly stacked up pile of books near the entrance.

All of them looked like they were well taken care of.

He raised a finger, swiftly drawing shapes in the air which, again, came with a hushed murmur and tendrils of eerie light that ghosted over the paper. Ley pondered what would happen should he manage to break through her hodgepodge jumble of wards. Most of them she had installed to protect it from the elements. Fire, first and foremost. For obvious reasons.

In later years, after the first not-so-friendly run-ins with other interstellar travellers, she had made the effort to hide her research. Just to be sure. And judging by his disappointed frown, their results were working precisely as intended.

Not that you’d have the first clue how to read it, anyway, she thought and snorted a chuckle.

Purple-robe’s gaze snapped upward, locking onto hers within the second.

Ley froze, briefly considering if she should force herself to get up and vanish between the trees again. Painfully reminded of her injuries as she tried to get to her feet, she slumped back to the ground.

For a moment, he did nothing. Just observed her, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Without moving his head, he threw a glance toward the riverside, where his companion paced up and down the beach.

Then he looked back up. And threw her a wink.

Ley blinked in irritation, eyes darting back and forth between him and the green-skinned woman, waiting for him to betray his unspoken peace declaration.

But nothing happened. All she could see was that wide, genuine smile. All she could feel, the shiver of exhaustion rolling down her spine. And so Ley winked back, slow and deliberate, suddenly very conscious about how heavy her lids had become.

When his smile grew wider, she sighed with relief.

When the stern-looking woman passed by him again, he quickly returned his attention to the book, feigning indifference as he leafed through the pages.

Ley chuckled silently.

About the whole ridiculous situation. She, watched over by that stranger at the fire who, in turn, was guarded from the likes of her by that lady in her clinking armour. About lying here, in her little nook twelve feet above their heads, too tired to move a muscle and unable to resist sleep's beckoning call.

She dozed off to the sound of turning pages and crackling flames, occasionally interrupted by the stomping of metal boots.

The last thing she saw were gleaming brown eyes, the fire’s reflection dancing within.

Then exhaustion took over and Ley sunk into soothing, peaceful nothingness.

Chapter Text

Gifts

*

The next day was surprisingly productive.

Nori, Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach had set out to the goblin-infested village near the grove, not sure what to expect other than yet another fight. But things turned out quite a bit differently.

The goblins at the main gate had been smack-talking and threatening, just as they had expected, but the tide turned rather quickly as Nori felt the overwhelming urge to, well… To use her tadpole. She gave in to the temptation, which was surprising, even to herself. Within a few seconds, the goblins’ attitude shifted to something like…

Awe? Reverence?

“True Soul,” their leader had called her. This was the second time Nori heard that term. She was not yet sure what to make of it. Other than appreciating the immunity it gave them, of course.

They had been free to stroll through the village, burnt and plundered as it was. A few spots still seemed to be untouched, like the Apothecary’s cellar or the Smith’s basement - probably because the brutes couldn’t get past even the simplest of locks.

She mentally marked those two places for later. Once they had solved the dilemma with the Grove and the missing druid, she wanted to return for a proper investigation. 

Gale had surprised her, following suit with the tadpole just a few minutes after they passed the gate. The situation they stumbled into required swift action - another bunch of goblins had tied some unfortunate creature to a windmill for their entertainment. Nori fully expected this to result in some unspeakably gruesome end for their captive and had stepped forward to make use of the tadpole again.

Only to find out that the damn thing had apparently checked out for the day.

The goblins hadn’t been particularly amused by her attempt to talk them out of their little game, and just as things were about to escalate, the wizard stepped in and took the lead, repeating what she had done earlier. And again, they used this title. “True Soul”. Only this time, their veneration was directed at him.

They had, of course, got the guy down from the windmill. Nice fella, she thought, oddly charming - if a bit pessimistic. Introduced himself as Barcus Wroot. Were she a different woman with different preferences, she might have found him interesting. He headed off shortly thereafter, bound to his own mission that apparently didn’t allow for him to stay any longer than necessary.

Now, they were on the way back to camp, hoping to sit huddled around the fire before sunset, a hot meal in their bellies. Maybe accompanied by one or two glasses of wine.

They had found wine. A lot of wine. Nori couldn’t help but smile, even though she knew that she’d have to be careful with the stuff.

This was not the kind of place where she could sing and drink into the early hours of the morning and then sleep it out the following day.

She had to stay functional. She was needed. Which was a notion that still hadn’t ceased to feel weird. To be respected and looked up to. Or, well, down to, in her case.

A wry smile on her lips, she looked at her companions.

Karlach and Shadowheart walked ahead of her, both carrying sacks bursting with newly acquired supplies over their shoulders. They were sharing memories from the Gate, snickering and gasping at the others’ story. Weird how well those two were getting along. She hadn’t expected Shadowheart to open up to anyone, but then again, it was arguably hard to not get along with Karlach.

Neither of them had seemed happy about her and Gale using the tadpole. Especially Karlach - she had made very clear that she would not hand the reins to anything even remotely related to the Mindflayers. Which was perfectly reasonable. Nori would have probably felt the same way, had she been forced to serve an archdevil for ten years.

It was a pity, though, as those things would likely be the ticket into the main goblin camp. She made a mental note to talk to the others, to see who else was willing to make use of them.

The thought brought her attention to Gale, who was walking next to her, arms behind his back and visibly brooding. He had said little since they left the village, which was decidedly out of character. Actually, if she thought about it, he had said little the whole day.

“Everything alright with you?” she asked, turning her face up to him.

He winced, then looked down at her. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be? I’d say we’ve had quite the successful day. Tadpoles, supplies…. Perhaps even a way into the temple.”

His smile was weak and the shadows under his eyes were much darker than yesterday. She cursed internally, scolding herself for not noticing earlier.

“Did you stay up all night?” She asked. “Or is it the orb again? I’ve put something aside for when the need arises, you know- ”

He gave a short, but heartfelt, laugh. “No, I think the orb will remain docile for a few more days. But your hands-on approach to my problem is very welcome.” This smile was much more sincere. “I’ve been shuffling all our current problems around in my mind, hoping to find a solution that would miraculously solve them all. Alas, that seems to be a somewhat hopeless endeavour for the moment.”

“And by ‘all our current problems, you mean what? The missing druid,” she counted with her fingers as she continued, “the tadpoles, obviously, though that and the whole Halsin business may just be one and the same thing.” He shrugged, then nodded. “Then the situation at the Grove and let me guess - a certain little kitten that’s been creeping around our camp since yesterday.”

He chuckled. “Yes, that just about covers it. However, I believe we have found a solution for at least two of those issues today. We do now have the means to infiltrate that camp. Even if that might result in us opening the door for further illithid influence.”

She kicked a stone out of the way, thinking for a moment before answering. “Did you hear them talk? The ones you scared away from the windmill?”

Gale shook his head. He had been busy figuring out how to stop said mill from turning.

“Well, there was something interesting they said, just as they were leaving,” Nori continued. “Something about a raiding party that was due to return any day now. And about the celebration of their victory they were looking forward to,” she pointed her finger at him, “which would be the important part.”

“I see…” he pondered. “Which, I suppose, would provide an excellent opportunity to get inside unnoticed. I like the way you’re thinking.”

“What’s that you like?” Karlach, one hand stemmed against her waist, grinned from one ear to the other. She and Shadowheart stood at the side of the road, waiting for them to catch up.

“Her idea on how to infiltrate the temple,” Gale repeated patiently. “Which is a matter of utmost importance. And a rather time-sensitive one as well.”

“Aaaah, yeah…” Karlach’s grin did not leave her face, but there was a hint of impatience in her voice now. “That’s the reason we haven’t taken out those paladins yet, right?”

Heat rushed to Nori’s cheeks. It felt terrible. Having to put something off that was so clearly important to her.

“We will take care of them, I promise you,” she pledged, craning her neck to look into the tiefling’s face. “You haven’t seen the Grove yet. I tell you, the moment you meet those refugees, the moment you hear how this snake talks about them, you’ll know why we’re so determined to put an end to that nonsense.”

“It comes down to us finding their actual leader somewhere within the temple. Alive and tadpole-free, one would hope…” Shadowheart clarified as they continued down the path. “So far, that’s our best lead on how to get rid of those things. And yes, he could probably also put an end to that ritual, as Nori keeps reminding us.”

Karlach mouthed a quiet ‘Oh’ and looked at the ground.

She hadn’t heard that part before, Nori realised, immediately feeling guilty again.

“Well, we can sort those bastards out once we’re done with all that goblin nonsense, right?” the tiefling asked, eying her from the side. “And… Maybe I can come with you the next time you guys head for the Grove?”

Nori nodded and gave her a wide smile. “Absolutely. I also wanted to talk to that smith, see if he could take a look at your engine.”

“Oh gods, please…” Karlach groaned and threw back her head. “Feels like I’m burning hotter every day.”

“Which reminds me,” Nori turned her attention to Gale again. “About our little friend…”

“Hah!” The wizard chuckled, now a little more lively than before. “Couldn’t have posed less of a threat. Mind you, I can’t account for what happened after Wyll took over for me. Last I saw, she was slumbering atop that cliff. A rather endearing sight, to be honest.” He raised a brow in Shadowheart’s direction. “Now, I should probably add that for the short while she was awake, her demeanour was nothing if not peaceful. Timid, even. I honestly doubt there’s reason to worry. She seemed much more intimidated by us than the other way around.”

“Never said I was intimidated…” The cleric grumbled quietly.

“Poor thing,” Karlach stated softly. “Maybe one of us should try to go after her? See if she’s doin’ alright…?”

“Not sure that would be wise at this point,” Nori mused indecisively. “Think there’s a pretty good chance that would scare her off.”

Gale nodded. “I’d agree. Let her find us in her own time. She knows where we are…”

Nori saw the hint of a smile unfold on his bearded features.

“… and that she’s got nothing to fear from us.”

*

Upon their return, they found Wyll and Lae’zel in the middle of a somewhat heated, and rather one-sided discussion.

Wyll sat on the log next to his tent, the big central rock at his back, and tried to scrub some unidentifiable dark stain from his recently acquired gambeson. Lae’zel was pacing back and forth in front of him, arms crossed and visibly agitated.

Nori knew this was about the crêche even before she got close enough to actually make out the words.

“… first symptoms start showing, I will not hesitate to end you, istik, nor any of the others.” She glared at him, paying no attention to the new arrivals. “We are wasting precious time on leads that will most assuredly turn out to be dead ends.”

Startled by the excited yipping of Scratch, Wyll whirled around, his face lighting up as his gaze fell on Nori and the others.

“Would you look at that,” he exclaimed with a grin, “our fearless heroes return.”

She had to suppress a laugh, seeing his relief about being rescued from the githyanki’s sermon.

Lae’zel scoffed and turned to leave, then threw a sharp glance back at Wyll. “See that you talk some sense into her,” she hissed and trudged off towards the riverbank.

Nori hopped onto the log next to Wyll. Scratch sat down at her feet, yawning, then laid down on his belly. “As bad as I think it is?” she asked, eying the dirty leather in his hands.

“Depends…” he sighed, “the stain or her mood?”

“Both,” she said, both hands reaching out for the armour. Wyll handed it over with a sigh. “Pretty bad, as you can see. And Lae’zel… is getting impatient.” He leaned in closer, watching with his good eye as nimble halfling fingers inspected the stains and scorch marks. “I don’t think she’ll be too inclined to aid us when it comes to investigating the temple.”

Nori smiled. “I wouldn’t dare to bring her anyway,” she handed back the gambeson. “She’d draw way too much attention. By the way, you know Gale can probably get that out with this prestidigitation spell, right?” She pointed over to where the wizard and Shadowheart were unloading their packs and hopped down from the log.

As Wyll headed towards Gale, she took the time to let her gaze wander over the surrounding area.

Their nightly visitor was nowhere to be seen. Whom she did see was Astarion, lounging on the boulder behind his tent, a book in hand and lazily propped up on one elbow. The sun shone brightly on this spot during this time of day, undisturbed by trees or clouds.

Good, Nori thought as she approached. Gods know that face needs a bit of colour.

“Anything interesting happen here?” She asked, shielding her eyes with one hand as she peered up at him.

“Well, hello there.” He sat up and gave her a coquettish smile. “No, nothing of note. Not to my knowledge, at least. But then, as you can see…” He played with the hem of his shirt, sighed and turned his face to the sun. “I was rather busy. You might want to ask the other two. They’ve been in charge of all the guarding and sabre-rattling.”

He clearly had no intentions to come down.

“And the-“

“Our little friend seems to have vanished at some point in the morning,” he answered, nodding towards the clifftops. “Though I’d bet you could probably still find some tracks. If you really wanted to.”

“Nah,” she replied, her hand doing a throwaway gesture. “I’m good. But you might want to come down and take a look at what we found.”

His eyes went wider as she said that. “Oooh, what is it? No - don’t tell me. Gold? Gems? A nice dagger? Or perhaps some exciting new poison, I seem to have almost run out of-“

“The last one is close,” she replied with a wink.

He thought about that for a moment, then squinted his eyes. “Not more of the cheap stuff, I hope?”

“Come down and see for yourself.”

That did it. He leaped down from the stone in one swift motion, effortlessly landed on his feet, and walked straight past her.

Gale was busy tending to Wyll’s armour, so Nori went to help Shadowheart with the dinner preparations.

The cleric was kneeling, half-inside the kitchen tent, between open supply crates - brows furrowed and apparently searching for something. Nori didn’t have to say anything. She turned around the very moment she heard her footsteps.

“Have you seen the bread basket?” she asked, sounding a bit frustrated.

“No,” Nori answered, “we just arrived. Haven’t been in there since yesterday.”

“It’s not here,” Shadowheart continued to rummage through the tent. “The dried fruits we got from the Grove are gone as well,” she mumbled, “some of the beef jerky, too.”

“Perhaps the others-“ Nori set to reply, but Shadowheart interrupted her.

“Already asked them.”

“None of us has laid a hand on the supplies,“ Astarion affirmed from the left, closely inspecting two of the freshly pilfered wine bottles. “You know how cranky the wizard gets when someone dares to touch his spices.”

Gale’s head snapped around. “Excuse me?” He handed the now clean gambeson back to Wyll and approached them, brows furrowing. “What was that about my spices?” Nori chuckled and Astarion grinned in her direction.

“No worries, they’re still here,” Shadowheart assured, voice muffled through the canvas. “Seems to be just that; bread, some fruits and jerky. Nothing we can’t replace, nothing dramatic - but still…”

Right. Establishing an adequate, reliable food supply had been much harder than Nori expected, especially during the first two days. On those evenings, they had gone to sleep with no more than a few bites of mouldy bread in their bellies, and none of them wanted to go back to that.

On the other hand, they had just returned with quite the haul. And some of the old stuff was about to go bad, anyway.

“So… someone has been pilfering this tent whilst we were out and about?” a sly grin formed on Gale’s face, and his eyes wandered in the direction Lae’zel had stomped off to. “Whilst our fearless and ever-vigilant guards were on watch, as undivertible and level-headed as one ought to be on that most dignified of duties?”

“You are so lucky she can’t hear you right now,” Karlach exclaimed from the campfire behind him. It took Gale some effort to bite back another snappy remark, but the smugness didn’t leave his face.

“Well, I’m gonna guess on a whim here, but I have an inkling who might have been the perpetrator here,” Nori sighed with a wry smile. “Think that was unavoidable. And honestly, I’m not sure I mind that much.”

“Me neither,” that came from Shadowheart, to everybody’s surprise. “As long as she keeps her mitts off the wine.”

*

This was one of those moments when Gale was reminded just how far from home he truly was.

And from his kitchen.

How in the hells was any of this supposed to work without garlic? The most essential spice for any kind of supper that was supposed to be palatable? Or thyme? Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a bushel of decent, flavoursome thyme, fresh from the market…

He sighed into the stew pot.

His right arm, that’s what he would give. Well, perhaps not the right one, that one he had grown rather attached to. The left one then.

On second thought… Perhaps a foot would do as well.

At least he had got hold of most other ingredients required for this regrettably unremarkable, most basic of stews. Which it wouldn’t have to be for much longer, provided he could scrounge up some other, more interesting tidbits to add to the mix.

Blithely humming, he threw a last sceptical glance at the peacefully simmering broth and turned toward the tent, almost stumbling over the dog lying next to his feet.

Scratch didn’t even lift his head, just gave a bleary, inquiring whine, hopeful eyes peering up at him and then closing again as he saw Gale’s hands to be empty.

“Awfully rude of me, I know,” Gale mumbled amusedly. “Disturbing your slumber and then even lacking the decency to make amends. The audacity!”

He took a big step forward, hoping not to squish any ill-placed paws in the process. The dog had positioned himself just as inconveniently as he had the evening prior. And the one before, come to think of it.

Strange coincidence, Gale thought with a smile. Just as suspicious as the timing.

To his disappointment, the kitchen tent made for rather slim pickings. A few odd, and frankly, rather bland, vegetables they had purloined from the witches’ hut, a fact that didn’t necessarily help to make them more appealing. A bit of smoked ham. A handful of leeks. Gods, they’d really have to stock up. And soon, if they didn’t want to go back to stale bread and porridge.

Scratch gave a quiet whimper.

“Not sure I can part with anything today, boy,” Gale replied ruefully. “All those things you’d take a fancy to are in rather short supply, I’m afraid. And besides, I’m very much aware you’ve already had your share of-“

Another whine, louder this time.

Gale poked his head out the entrance. Scratch had straightened up, belly still on the ground, craning his neck and attentively observing something on top of the cliff.

“Caught something interesting?” Gale inquired as he climbed back out, arms laden with the meagre yield of his heist. “Squirrel? Magpie? Hedgehog perhap-“

Between shrubbery and grass, piercing yellow eyes glared down at him.

She gave a hoarse little grumble, the sound cautious and inquiring. Almost like a question. Or a greeting.

“And a good evening to you too,” he chuckled and graced the snout looming over the edge with a courtly little nod. “We’ve been wondering what you were up to. These woods are not the safest place to stroll about, you know?”

Now, Gale was by no means a professional dog reader, but even he could see that the way Scratch tilted his head from one side to the other and the cautious wag of his tail spoke of curiosity, rather than fear. Which, in his opinion, was nothing if not a good sign.

Unloading his haul on the nearby table, he squinted up at her.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where our missing supplies ran off to, would you?”

Silver paws came into view, the snout nudged down between them. She made a chirping sound. And looked at the ground.

Gale couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, no need to worry…”

He threw her an encouraging wink. That had worked wonders dispersing her tension the evening prior.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, we’re talking about the abduction of one piffling loaf of bread. I somewhat doubt anyone in this camp would honestly deem that a crime worth condemning. We all know what it’s like to be hungry.”

Absently puttering away with the vegetables, Gale’s gaze flicked up and down between his hands and the cat on the cliff. Her chin came to rest on her paws, scintillating eyes following his every move. He could have sworn he’d heard a purr.

“Which, by the way, is a matter that could easily be remedied if I could somehow sway you to leave that no doubt advantageous position you’re so tenaciously clinging to…”

That was met with an uneasy grumble. Scratch wagged his tail.

“Oh, I know,” he nodded thoughtfully, hands busily peeling and chopping. “Not a simple decision to make, us being the fearsome bunch that we are.”

He quirked a brow at Scratch. The dog threw him a look of utter confusion, tongue lolling and drool dripping from the side of his mouth.

Gale tried to keep a straight face. And failed miserably.

“See what I mean? Well and truly terrifying. Although I’d like to point out that you…”

The knife came to a halt, then swapped hands. The empty one pointed at her paws, and the razor-sharp claws gleaming in the firelight. She raised a feline brow.

“… are sporting some rather frightening weaponry yourself, it would seem.”

Pouting his lips, Gale gazed up at her, head tilting to and fro.

“Which might prove a tad impractical, should you decide to grace us with your presence.” He reached for the heavy mug holding their cutlery, plucking a spoon from it to demonstrate his point. “Opposable thumbs, you see? Quite helpful when-“

“Look at you, being all happy, talking to yourself,” Nori snickered from behind.

An elbow was poked into his thigh. Gale chuckled and turned around, hand still midair as he smiled down at the halfling.

Nori grinned back, eyes wandering from him to the table. “What the heck are you doing, swinging spoons and babbling nonsense, have you - Oh!”

Following Scratch’s gaze, she gaped up at the cliff’s edge.

“Why, hello there,” Nori chirped excitedly, mouth wide agape and eyes gleaming as she watched the cat tilt her head, inadvertently mimicking the gesture herself. “What a pleasant surprise! Will you be joining us, sweetie?”

Gale quirked a brow. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t already have extended an invitation?”

“And…?” the halfling asked, gaze firmly glued to those hypnotic yellow eyes.

“Not yet sure what to make of the answer,” Gale sighed, then tucked the spoon back in with the others.

The broad, silver head tilted to the other side, Nori’s mechanically following suit. The cat gave a contented little trill and sat up, the tip of her tail twitching playfully as it wrapped around her legs.

“I think she likes you,” Gale stated expertly.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Nori chuckled, presenting a thoroughly amiable smile. “Think I like her t- wait, no don’t go…”

The cat rose to her feet. Or, well, in this case, her paws.

And then she did something odd. Tail animatedly jerking from left to right, she withdrew from the ledge and took a few steps to the side. Then came back, only to do the same thing over again and over again.

“Oh!” Gale exclaimed as it finally clicked. “I believe we’re meant to follow, Nori.”

The halfling seemed to contemplate for a second, squinting, her gaze following the ledge down to where cliffs flanked both sides of the path leading out of the camp.

Then she simply shrugged and set into motion.

Gale followed suit. Excited, if the slightest bit wary.

Not that he expected anything to happen. He couldn’t think of any reason this woman would wish them ill. And yet, it had him a bit on edge, being steered away from the safety of the camp, equipped with nothing but his wits and the cosy evening attire he suddenly felt a little exposed in.

Then again, perhaps that was precisely how she felt whilst sitting up there and watching them. Perhaps they indeed were a fearsome bunch in her eyes. Which could very well be the reason she wanted to balance the scales a little, before showing them… well, whatever it was she wanted them to see.

Leaving behind the kitchen tent, a peacefully dozing Scratch and the still-simmering stew, they followed her along the side of the cliff and entered the ravine to their right. They barely talked, kept their eyes on the path, perpetually glimpsing upward to check if she was still there. Which she was. Always a few steps ahead, her presence not given away by sound but by streaks of silver, reflecting the moonlight and easily spotted through the thicket.

Until, from one moment to the next, there was no more silver. Instead, they heard the faint fluttering of a cloak, and footsteps, two-legged instead of four, crunching over brittle twigs and dried-up leaves.

When she reappeared, diving underneath a low-hanging branch, they saw a pale, tired face, half-covered by a wide hood, the visible part framed by rather dishevelled-looking strands of hair and smeared with what they could only hope to be dirt.

And she was limping, Gale noted.

It was barely noticeable, just a slight stutter in the movement of her legs, and a certain stiffness in how she carried herself. Exceedingly cautious, as if to avoid moving her chest as much as possible.

“That really doesn’t look good,” Nori stated quietly. “Not good at all.”

“Agreed,” Gale nodded. “Alas, at least for now, our hands remain tied.”

Upon reaching the edge of the forest, the cliffs sloped downward, gradually evening out and in that, bringing the stranger closer to their level with every step taken. A development that immediately caused her to retreat a good distance further into the woods, though not before throwing them a cautious, apologetic smile.

The sun had already settled when Gale began his stew preparations, and now, under the forest’s dense canopy, it was getting increasingly harder to see.

Just when he thought this might be the time to provide a bit of illumination by magical means, the stranger snapped her fingers, and a small mote of light appeared above her hand. It hovered over her palm for a moment, then hopped down and whizzed in their direction. It danced around the trees, then came to a halt in front of them, bobbing up and down like some playful fey spirit trying to gain their attention.

“Very considerate,” Nori stated with a smile, then gave a polite little curtsy. “Lead the way then.”

It darted off immediately, flew down the path and there, they finally saw what she had brought them to see.

Gale laughed heartily.

Neatly lined up on the thick, gnarly root of an oak tree sat their missing baskets. Filled with something he couldn’t make out from a distance and surrounded by what seemed to be an assortment of wild fruits. Above, dangling from a low-hanging branch, hung a young deer, belly-up with its hooves tied together. Two deep, clean puncture wounds graced its neck.

“Hah!” He exclaimed cheerfully. “Now that’s what I call pragmatism.”

Nori grinned. “Bit surprised she put in the effort when she has such a hard time getting around…”

Gale hummed approvingly, hunkering down to inspect the contents of the baskets. One was stuffed with roots, some of which he wasn’t quite sure were edible. The other was filled with mushrooms, about half of them most certainly not suitable for consumption.

He chuckled, smirking amusedly as he rifled through them.

“Commendable, nonetheless. Attempting to repay what she was given. Or, rather, what she’s been forced to take. A notion I find oddly relatable for some reason.”

Nori sighed, then clapped a hand on his back. “Come on, Gale. We’ve been over this like what… five times now?”

Gale threw a glance over his shoulder. The woman stood quite a ways away, leaning against a tree and watching them with rapt attention.

“Hear that?” He smiled remorsefully, then cocked a brow at the halfling. “Sounds to me like your generous gift is about to be turned down-“

Another decisive smack met his back.

“That’s not what I meant, you…” Nori groaned in utter exasperation, voice down to a frustrated grumble. “… knuckleheads, the lot of you…”

Gale grinned into his beard and went back to inspecting the mushrooms.

Nori took a deep breath and turned on her heels. “Look, honey, that’s definitely not what I meant. Don’t listen to this silly-“

A quiet ‘Oh’ fell from her lips. Gale peered over his shoulder again.

The spot under the tree was empty, the stranger nowhere to be seen. All that was left was that small mote of light, hovering a few inches above the ground, dutifully illuminating the surrounding forest.

Which it continued to do until they eventually made their way back to camp.

*

It took an eternity for them to go to bed.

Astarion had been waiting patiently, lying on his bedroll, fingers idly playing with the ties of his shirt.

One by one, he heard them fall asleep. By now, he could easily tell them apart just by listening.

The first was always Nori, breathing her tiny, whistling halfling breaths.

When it came to snoring, Karlach was by far the loudest, closely followed by Wyll and Gale, even though the wizard would vehemently deny that.

Lae’zel was completely quiet, her sleeping only being indicated by the sudden absence of other sounds - like leather rubbing against leather or fingernails scraping over metal.

Shadowheart was easily distinguishable from the others because she was talking in her sleep. Some nights she was louder than others, and most of the time he could not make out the words. Not that he felt the need to.

No. Who he really had to look out for was Scratch.

It wasn’t easy, getting around the little mutt undetected, even if he happened to already be asleep. And if he did notice him, it was almost impossible to keep him quiet. He had already tried throwing his favourite ball across the camp and then making a run for it - but then the stupid dog simply followed his scent and made things even more difficult.

He’d just have to be patient. And move without making a sound.

The hunger was almost unbearable by now. He hadn’t been able to feed for quite some time now. Not yesterday, nor the day before. And today, there hadn’t been a single opportunity either. There had always been eyes on him, up to the moment the rest of them had returned and by then, every chance to slip off unnoticed was gone. Until now, late at night.

Astarion sat up quietly, carefully trying not to make a sound as he climbed over his bedroll and reached for the canvas. He held the fabric with both hands, very slowly lifted and then closed it again behind him.

On tippy toes, he made his way through the camp, passing both Lae’zel’s and Wyll’s tents, then balanced over the log that lay across the river. As soon as he passed the ruined building on the other side, the tension in his shoulders finally started to ease.

It took him a long time to pick up a scent, and he wasn’t even sure what exactly it belonged to. Boar? Deer? It didn’t matter.

He followed the tracks for quite a while, through terrain that seemed vaguely familiar. Had his mind been clearer, he might have recognised the bridge he now crossed, might have noticed the stone wall surrounding the nearby village, half-obstructed by trees and low shrubs. But his head was a foggy mess and the gnawing hunger was blurring his vision.

Close to the half-open gate, he spotted his quarry. Still a few feet away, and thankfully turning its back to him.

It was a boar, and it was a big one.

With a swift, silent move, he drew his dagger. Today, he’d have to slow it down before he could sink his teeth into it. He simply didn’t have the strength to keep it still, not with the way his knees and hands were shaking.

He took a careful step forward, then another.

And then - he slipped on the cobblestone. Like an idiot.

It was just for a split second, but his shoes had made a slithering sound as he caught himself. The beast turned its head, looked at him, and then darted off, down the path and into the woods.

He let out a hefty curse and set after it. If he was lucky, he’d still be able to corner it somewhere, but he’d have to be quick and get it over with before his strength left him enti-

Before he could finish the thought, something big and heavy leaped down from the trees, right in the way of the fleeting boar, barely making a sound as it met the ground. For a second, both the vampire and his prey were too surprised to move.

Then, bright yellow eyes flicked open, and a low growl reverberated through the night.

The pig snapped free from its paralysis, squealed with panic and threw its legs violently to make a sharp turn, darting over the cobblestone and down the-

Without thinking, Astarion chucked the blade into its neck. It collapsed with a confused yelp, the sound of it plummeting to the cobblestone echoing from the walls.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

So far, she had never been close enough to feel this… real. He had kept his distance from the crashed ship and last night she had been nothing more than a pair of eyes lurking between the trees. Now, he could see her chest rise and fall with every breath, saw wiry muscles dance beneath silver fur.

Long claws clicked on the cobblestone as she took a slow, careful step towards him, and then another after that, emerging from the tree’s shadows and, to his surprise, sat down.

He instinctively bared his teeth. The boar lay right next to him, and he desperately needed it. The dagger was still stuck in its neck, which meant it wouldn’t be leaking all over the floor, but still - its blood was bound to coagulate. Time was of the essence.

She tilted her head slightly to one side and blinked, eyes suddenly no longer bright yellow. The dim twilight didn’t allow him to make out whatever colour they were now, but he was pretty sure that at the moment, she was looking at him through her human eyes.

A low, rumbling sound emerged from her throat. The feline grin grew wider and her shoulders, barely noticeable, danced a little jig.

Was she laughing at him?

Too abruptly for him to react, she got back to her feet and, with a few elegant movements, closed the distance between them. She came to a halt, her bulky head mere inches from his nose, canines as long as his hand protruding from between her lips.

Vertical slit pupils roamed his face, attentively taking in every feature. Then she huffed.

And simply walked off.

Irritated, he watched her trot down the path he had come from - but the alluring scent of freshly spilt blood and the aching void in his stomach forced his attention back to the boar.

Kneeling on the cold ground, his hands found the neck of his quarry and turned its throat towards him. With a sharp ‘chink’ his teeth sunk into the artery. Eyes closed, he drank until there wasn’t a single drop left.

Afterwards, he sat there, on the cobblestone, waiting for his head to clear and his hands to cease their trembling. He wasn’t sure for how long.

When he finally felt a bit more like himself again, he got up, pulled his dagger out of the beast’s neck, and then wiped it clean on its fur.

Should he hide the body? He had done so before, to avoid suspicion. But then, the others had just found a dead animal with bite marks, decided to pay them no mind and simply throw it in their stew. Surely, the creature that had provided their dinner could theoretically also be responsible for this kill. Right?

He put the dagger back into its sheath and beat the dirt from his knees. Then he looked up.

Not even five paces away, a woman stood leaning against a tree.

She had her arms crossed, or maybe just huddled around herself for warmth, and eyed him with both caution and curiosity. A long, dark cloak was tugged tightly around her body, fixed around the waist with a broad belt, its hood covering half her face. He could discern soft, distinguished features, strong brows and full lips, the hint of a charming little smile darting over them. But then also deep shadows under her eyes that even the dim twilight couldn’t hide.

He chuckled as he realised she studied him the same way he studied her.

“My, my, aren’t you a delightful little thing,” he cooed and made a playful step towards her. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle. He decided to take it a step further, ignoring the voice in his head telling him he was blood-drunk and taking unnecessary risks.

Eyes darting up and down her body, he gave his most charismatic smirk and moved closer.

“You probably don’t understand a word I’m saying, am I right?” he whispered, one brow raised, idly playing with the hair behind his ear.

Her eyes narrowed, just a tiny bit. She was still smiling as she looked up at him and he chuckled as he realised how much smaller she was.

“Which means you won’t be able to tell anyone about my…” his words were hushed and sweet like honey, “… predicament anytime soon.” He leaned in closer, the softness not leaving his voice. His fingers wandered up her arm and ghosted over the sleeve, their skin barely touching the fabric. “I like th-”

“हमरा हाथ नहि लगाउ.”

Her voice was quiet but firm, immediately causing his eyes to flick back up, only to find the smile wiped from her lips, replaced by something very close to repulsion.

Turning her face upwards, she blinked, deliberately, irises briefly turning back to that scintillating yellow. Her gaze burned into his eyes, intense and not showing so much as a hint of trepidation.

Someone doesn’t enjoy being touched, Astarion thought and withdrew his hand. He smiled apologetically and moved back, taking a respectful little bow.

It took her about two seconds to change form again. And another two to disappear between the trees.

Well, that settles it, he thought. We’ll get along just fine.

Chapter Text

Caged

*

The next morning, they found the village to be conspicuously empty.

The only remaining occupants were a trio of strangely articulate ogres, whom Nori somehow talked into a deal - offering to pay for their future assistance with ‘the flesh of the fallen’, which left Wyll speechless and Astarion giggling like a madman.

Sometimes she surprised even herself. 

Originally, they had planned to loot the buildings and, provided there was time for it, investigate the surrounding area. But then, upon nearing the western gate, their ears were assaulted by the noise of drums and the howling of several dozen inebriated goblins, which caused an abrupt change of plans.

Passing the bridge, they followed the dirty road to what appeared to be the main gate and saw themselves greeted by a small gaggle of guards, accompanied by two particularly nasty-looking worgs.

Their leader, an older goblin with a nasty grin, stepped forward. “Lookit, Klaw!” he hollered to the worg at his side. “Supper’s here! Unless you have another reason to drop by, feck-shite.”

Off to a good start, Nori thought.

“Your leader summoned us,” she said with a patient smile, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You?” the goblin gave her an incredulous once-over. “Well, guess we’re in with all sorts these days… well, if you’re here to see Dror Ragzlin,” he growled, thumb pointing back over his shoulder to the looming temple, “you’ll wanna let ‘im and the lads know how you’re one of us.”

Forefinger now aimed at Nori’s face, his grin widened. “You’ll need to wear our war colours.” His warriors cackled behind him as he then gestured to a massive pile of worg dung.

“Nice dab o’ this across the mug oughta do it.”

It took Nori a second to fully comprehend what he meant.

She blinked at him, slowly, the smile not yet wiped off her face. And was about to open her mouth for a witty retort when Shadowheart moved to her side, a vicious glimmer dancing in her eyes.

“Is this really how you address your betters?” the cleric tutted, the gentlest of smiles playing around her lips. “I bet your leaders wouldn’t look kindly on such an awful disrespectful welcome.”

Nori’s tadpole twitched excitedly, resonating with its twin as it snapped into action. The goblin flinched, trembling under the surge of illithid willpower now violently flooding his mind. 

“Aight… aight!” he stammered, arms raised to shield his face - as if that would prove in any way helpful. “Down, Klaw! Bad girl!” An angry kick hit the unsuspecting Worg in the belly and sent it reeling. It didn’t turn on him, just scowled back from tiny, hate-filled eyes.

“Easy, lads! We got a True Soul comin’ through!” The goblin sneered at his fellow guards, then gave a half-hearted bow. “My mistake, miss. Didn’t recognise ya there. Lads are celebrating the raid on Waukeen’s Rest. Captured a duke, we did! All the way from the…”

They ignored the rest of his babbling, left him and his comrades standing there, and continued down the path.

“Well, that was… unexpected,” Gale remarked, as soon as they were out of earshot. “Most welcome, just to be clear - but unexpected, nonetheless.”

Shadowheart didn’t respond. Just smiled mutely and gave Nori a gleeful little wink.

The previous evening had brought out a new side of her. After the group had decimated every last bit of Gale’s stew, the two women sat by the fire for a while longer, sharing a bottle of wine and discussing an incident that had occurred on their earlier trip to the village.

They had stumbled across a crumbling statue of Selúne, when Shadowheart suffered another one of those painful flashes that troubled her every so often. When Nori inquired if there was a connection to said statue, she had been her usual dismissive self, promptly changing the topic.

But throughout the evening, she apparently had a change of heart.

Of course, Nori had harboured some suspicions about what she might be hiding, but being a Shar-worshiper hadn’t been on the list. Not that it necessarily posed a problem. She didn’t care about the gods. Whom or what people prayed to was simply none of her business. Which she told the cleric, plain and simple. And with that, all previously existing tension had dissolved into nothingness.

And now, the next day, Shadowheart almost seemed like a different person. Lighthearted and cheerful, even cracking the occasional joke.

Nori was overjoyed.

They walked down a soft slope, towards a stone bridge spanning a massive chasm gaping between them and the temple. Passing shoddy, make-shift defences, they headed over it…

… and fell to their knees, choking, gasping for air and wincing in pain, as a disembodied voice invaded their minds.

“Hear my voice. Obey my command.”

*

Had someone been watching at that moment, they would have been able to witness this group of five writhing on the ground like fish out of water. Their faces twisting in agony, teeth gritted and fingers spasming violently.

A keen observer might have even seen their eyes dart anxiously behind lids screwed shut, as if following some horrific play forcefully staged inside their minds.

They would have also noticed a tiny object shoot out of a pocket, twisting and twirling through the air, like a small bird trying to protect its brood. It hovered above their bodies, glowing and humming, and after a while, their limbs would cease their frantic twitching. Their eyes would stop moving, their jaws unclench, and their panicked gasps would turn into rhythmic, peaceful breathing.

For a minute, maybe two, they’d do nothing but lie there. On the cold stone in the middle of the bridge, only a few steps from the deafening noise of a screeching, raucous horde of goblins.

Eventually, our onlooker would see them open their eyes and scramble to their feet, holding onto each other or the railing of the bridge. Patting the dirt from their clothes and engage in a lively discussion, whilst the smallest of them plucked the tiny object from the air and stow it away in her pack. Where it belonged.

*

“Now, look what you’ve done!” Volo whispered as he got dragged from the stage.

Nori frowned helplessly, forced to watch as the man in the excessive, needlessly colourful attire was shoved back inside the temple.

“Later,” Shadowheart murmured. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

The halfling sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

“How about we mingle with the locals for a bit?” Wyll leaned down, steering her towards the left side, where a few goblins stood around what seemed to be…

“Is that the owlbear cub?” Nori gasped, pointing at the tiny heap of feathers in their midst. It ducked between two crates and tried its best to hide, clearly not having the best of times. “Wyll, you know how to talk with animals, right?”

“I do…” The warlock scratched his neck. “You know what? Let me handle this. You guys take a look around.” He patted Nori on the shoulder, put on his most disarming smile, and walked over towards the miserable cub and its keepers.

Nori’s eyes wandered over the courtyard.

Most of the revellers seemed to be completely blasted already, which did nothing to keep them from drinking further. She saw an ogre guarding the temple entrance, a trader with a cart full of shabby-looking armour, and a bugbear patrolling the grounds. The latter didn’t seem quite as drunk as the others. Which might turn out to be a problem.

“I don’t think getting inside will be much of an issue,” she hissed toward Gale and Astarion. “But should we get into trouble, fighting our way back out could be.”

Astarion chuckled and bent down to whisper in her ear. “My dear, do you see the trough over there, next to that roasting pit?”

There was indeed a trough. A metal monstrosity that several goblins were shuffling around, eagerly refilling their tankards with whatever disgusting vileness it held.

She nodded, and the elf smirked in response. “Let’s say, just theoretically, someone had a batch of drow poison in their pocket…”

“Oh, I like your thinking,” Nori grinned. “I like it a lot. Go for it!”

He sauntered off, somehow slinking into the shadows without being noticed.

Nori smiled and turned around, only to see that Gale was no longer standing by her side, but browsing the stock of the nearby trader. Whistling some joyful little tune, she followed and leaned over the display, which was essentially just a dirty rug on the ground, some crude weapons and random junk scattered on top.

“Find anything interesting?”

The wizard was squinting at something on the trader’s cart, which, from her angle, Nori had no chance to see. He responded with an absent hum, brows furrowed, one hand idly rubbing over his chest.

Someone called her name from behind.

Nori turned around, smiling as her eyes fell on Shadowheart’s wide grin. The cleric seemed excited, hectically gesturing for her to come over to where Wyll appeared to have engaged in some sort of contest with their hosts.

“I’m just gonna leave you to… whatever it is you’re doing, alright?” She suggested, and upon not receiving an answer, strolled over to the others, ready to cheer Wyll on - at whatever he was doing.

*

Astarion wasn’t sure he even had to be sneaking for this.

The goblins around the trough were so drunk, it was a miracle they still possessed the ability to walk. One of them took a whole four tries to aim his hand right and get the tankard inside, instead of clanking it against the edge. Astarion watched them patiently, hidden in the shadow of some nearby wooden crates.

A few moments later they had conducted their business and waddled off, blithering something about a Priestess ‘Gut’ and the supposedly very appealing backside of someone named Minthara.

On his way, he had snatched an empty cup from a table, in which he now carefully emptied all six vials of drow poison. It took him two steps to reach the side of the trough - slightly reeling, as if drunk himself. He lunged forward as if to aim for a refill, fumbled for a moment, and then let go. With a splash, the cup fell in and sank to the bottom of the trough.

“Oh, my,” he gasped, as one goblin turned around and tried to focus on his face, going slightly cross-eyed in the process. “Now that’s too bad, how awfully clumsy of me…”

A malicious grin sprouted over the goblin’s face.

“Look at dis, Crusher,” he pointed in the vague direction of Astarion and the one next to him lifted his head, “An elf tryin’ to keep up… Thinks ‘is kind rule the world, but trips over ‘is feet after one mug o’… “ he stumbled over his own feet, then straightened up again. “… O’ the good stuff.”

Both of them started cackling and Astarion smirked, ready to respond with a snarky retort, when his gaze fell on the cage behind them.

From between thick metal bars, half obscured by the shadow of the nearby temple, a pair of tired yellow eyes gleamed back at him.

*

“Ya just gonna keep staring, or buy somethin’ finally?” The trader snarled in Gale’s direction. “Well, if ye got the coin, that is.”

Gale snapped out of his trance, clearing his throat.

“That depends,” he said, sceptically glimpsing down at the goblin, who still bared his crooked teeth in what was probably supposed to be an appealing smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have any enchanted items in your selection…? Scrolls, trinkets… anything that might be of use to a wizard?”

The grin fell from the goblin’s face.

“Don’t have many of those fancy magic types round ‘ere,” he scoffed. Then he eyed Gale’s robes, contemplatively squinting at him for a good long moment, reconsidering his sales strategy.

“But maybe…” he turned to the cart, pulled down a dirty pile of clothes, and laid them out on a big crate to his side. “Maybe dis’ somethin’ for you. Came in just today. Now, I’m no expert, but i’s oughta be magical, right?”

Some of them were most definitely imbued with magic. He had picked up on that before. Had, from afar, been trying to determine the nature of the enchantment. To no avail. Which, considering recent events, left him with only one rather unsettling conclusion.

The goblin unfolded a long, hooded robe, pants made from a thin, but surprisingly robust cloth as well as a long-sleeved, light-grey tunic and a pair of high leather boots. All of which looked dreadfully familiar. Gale’s frown steepened. He bent down, straightened the fabric of the tunic, then flipped it to inspect the backside.

There was an awful lot of blood on it.

Gale swallowed hard, hoping his bitter disappointment wouldn’t be all too apparent.

“I assume the raiding party brought these back?”

“Aye,” the trader leaned in closer, “but ‘s not from that inn. See, normally we nick ‘em things off the dead, but this-“

Faced with a revolting whiff of goblin breath, Gale tried very hard not to let his disgust show on his face.

The goblin grinned and presented his teeth again. “Is from a prisoner. Boys snagged ‘er on the way back.”

With that, he pointed around Gale’s knees, towards the temple’s entrance.

*

“I asked it to hide somewhere safe,” Wyll said in a hushed tone and hunkered down to pouch his winnings. “Until we’ve dealt with the rabble.”

Nori chuckled approvingly, rewarding his efforts with a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Then she meandered over to the vendor’s cart where Gale had just stashed something in his pack, throwing her a worried sideways glance before returning his attention to the trader.

“And what exactly are you planning to do with it?” The wizard’s eyes quickly darted back to the halfling, then to the other side of the camp.

Shadowheart followed his gaze and sighed quietly. Wyll frowned and looked at the floor.

Nori had to step on a crate first, but then she, too, saw the cage, including its unfortunate occupant. A few steps to the left, Astarion seemed deep in discussion with two very drunk-looking goblins, both enthusiastically gesticulating toward their prisoner.

The trader was about to answer, but Nori was quicker, trying her best to keep a straight face as she hopped back down to the ground.

“You must be Grak, I take it?”

“That’s right,” he winked at her, smirking impishly. “You ‘ere to buy as well?”

“Perhaps. But first…” She smiled and stepped up to him, thumb pointing over her shoulder, “I must know how you guys caught that thing.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You see, we’ve tried, too… But the stupid beast somehow slipped away last second. Was a tad embarrassing, to be honest.”

Which, of course, was a blatant lie. But a lie that coaxed a grin on his face and had him puff up his chest like the proud little cockerel he was.

“Wasn’t easy, I tell ya. Put up a bit of a fight, even fried one of ‘em boys alive. And then turned into… this. One of them druid types, you see,” he rolled his eyes, visibly revolted by the word alone. “Boys stuck ‘er full of arrows. Kept ‘em coming ‘til she looked like a hedgehog. Dragged her back ‘ere.”

He waved his hand towards the cage. The grin grew even wider.

“Poison on ‘em arrows keeps ‘er from healing, you see. And then, Boss Ragzlin had this idea with ‘er stuff. Him ‘s a smart one, he is. Said ‘s like with one of ‘em fancy girls from the city. Won’t do’ anythin’ without ‘er clothes.”

He burst into laughter that quickly turned into frantic wheezing and coughing. Which was an oddly satisfying sound, as far as Nori was concerned.

“Took me a bit, but worked a charm…”

He shrugged in a terribly self-satisfied way and gave Nori another one of those disgusting little winks, chest swelled with pride for his tremendous achievement.

“Won’t change back now, you see. Can’t roast anyone with that druid voodoo of ‘ers.”

Behind him, the wizard tapped a finger on his pack. One corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

Nori put up a smile that hopefully passed as appropriately amused, then repeated Gale’s question from earlier.

“And now? Any idea what the big shots got planned for her?”

The goblin shrugged and gestured over to the temple.

“Might be endin’ up as worg food. Might sell ‘er to the Zhents - worth more that way, if ye ask me. Boss hasn’t made up ‘is mind yet. Maybe wants to have a bit o’ fun with ‘er ‘imself. Who knows?”

Nori shuddered in abhorrence. And heard Gale grinding his teeth.

She threw Grak another of her charming little smiles. Told him she’d be back in a bit, to check out his goods after their True Soul business was concluded. He winked, this time very suggestively, and wiggled his brows in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach.

With that, they left him at his cart and made their way across the courtyard.

*

It didn’t take much to change their tone from mocking to ecstatic. All Astarion had to do was listen with wide-open eyes and throw in the occasional “No, really? How ever did you manage that?”, and they fell into more or less coherent prattling. About their oh-so fearsome leader, their incredibly impressive haul, how they showed those so-called ‘Fists’ what’s what - them being just a bunch of scrawny humans, the exceptionally wimpy sort, and therefore not much of a challenge. Naturally.

And, of course, the capture of the beast.

When the conversation finally shifted to them rambling about the Absolute and their High Priest, he decided it was time to take his leave. One brow raised and a cocky grin on his lips, he crossed his arms and bent down to them.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look for myself,” he said in a hushed voice. “At that… thing, I mean.”

“Won’t hold ya back,” the older goblin scoffed, filling his tankard again. For what was probably the fifth time since they had started talking, Astarion noticed gleefully. “But I tell ya’, better keep yer hands away from ‘em bars. Stupid wench bites somethin’ fierce.”

The other one scowled and produced his hand, dirty bandages covering the stumps of three missing fingers.

Astarion nodded thoughtfully, forcefully suppressing a snicker. Then he turned to the cage. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the others approaching. Good.

He hunkered down in front of her, eying the broken arrow shafts that protruded from her flank, her shoulders, and her chest. They didn’t seem to sit very deep, but then again, he had just learned about hooked tips and poison.

“So, did I get that right, you’re biting off fingers?” he mumbled, lips parting into a fiendish grin. “I’m beginning to like you, darling.”

She blinked blearily, giving an incredibly weak, listless sigh. Or maybe that was just normal breathing. He couldn’t tell.

“I don’t like the look of this,” Nori said from the side. She knelt beside him, slowly, as if not to scare the gigantic animal in front of her. Which was a little ridiculous, given that the latter was about five times her size.

“Must have lost a lot of blood,” Wyll pondered.

Shadowheart came closer, swiftly sitting down as well. Her eyes wandered over dozens and dozens of splintered shafts, then grew wide as they spotted the big, bloody clump on her chest.

Suddenly, Astarion was incredibly glad he’d been able to feed last night. He threw the cat another glance, peering into dull, apathetic eyes that had been so lively just a few hours ago. Teasing, even. An uneasy smirk tugged at his lips.

“This will take a while to heal. Even if I were to use all my spells in one go. And the poison…” Shadowheart mused in a hushed tone, more to herself than the others, “We’ll have to get that out of her system before, otherwise it’s pointless. Hells, I don’t even know what kind of poison we’re talking about.”

Gale shifted his staff between his fingers. “Which would, first and foremost, require us to get her out of here. As well as ourselves, for that matter. And at the moment, we’re nothing but sitting ducks, waiting for our cover to blow.”

Nori’s eyes remained fixed on the cage.

“Before we do anything of the sort, we need to find Halsin,” she whispered. “Who knows how much time we’ve got left.”

For a moment, they just stood there in silence.

“I suggest,” Nori said with a sigh. “One or two stay outside and keep an eye on our hosts. See how they react, should they catch on about… certain belatedly added supplements. Preferably from a spot where they can also watch the cage.”

Wyll and Gale looked at each other. Nori nodded her consent.

“The three of us will head inside and take a look around. As inconspicuously as possible. And without killing anyone.”

Astarion saw himself faced with a needlessly stern halfling glare. He cocked a brow in response and blinked sheepishly, presenting his most innocuous smile.

Without further hesitation, Shadowheart rose to her feet. “Let’s get going then.”

With a sigh, Astarion got up as well.

He turned to leave, but not before throwing another glance at the cage and the depressing heap of misery inside. She still refused to lift her head, but when Nori leaned in, stroking one massive, silver paw - her hand hilariously small in comparison - her eyes flung wide open.

“We’ll be back in just a moment, honey. I promise.”

The bard smiled, and for a second, Astarion could’ve sworn he heard the faintest hint of a purr.

*

“Oak Father preserve you, child…” The impossibly large elf brought a hand to his chest, heartfelt compassion in his eyes. “You are infected, aren’t you? The mind flayer’s spawn. But then,” his brows furrowed, and he came closer to her face, studying her eyes, “something is different. You are aware of the monster inside you. And you don’t bow to the Absolute, like the others do. How is this possible?”

Nori sighed and looked to Astarion for help. He stood close by, with his arms crossed and seemingly bored. Oh no dear, his eyes said, this is all you.

“It’s a looong story, believe me. One I’d be glad to tell you in full detail in an entirely different locale, preferably around a cosy campfire,” she pleaded exhaustedly. “For now, just tell me. Are you able to remove it?”

“Alas, no,” he said softly. Nori’s heart sank into her stomach. She could hear Astarion’s deep, frustrated sigh. “But I can help you find a cure. Find more information about your affliction. If you’d allow me.”

That would be something, at least.

“We’ll take all the help we can get,” she replied with a weak smile. “But firstly, there is something urgent that you need to know about. Regarding the Grove.”

His eyes widened. “Did the goblins make it there? I feared that they would, I hoped to take out their-“

Nori chuckled and raised a hand. “No, no. That is not the issue.”

She pulled her pack from her shoulders and rummaged through its contents.

“There,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper, “does the term ‘Ritual of Thorns’ mean anything to you?”

Halsin unfolded the paper and stared at it for a moment. Then his brows furrowed with anger. “She did what?!” he exclaimed so loud her ears started to ring.

“You need to go back immediately. I’m not sure how much time is left, but all the refugees will be forced out once it is completed, and the roads are…”

“Not safe in the slightest. I know that very well.” The druid folded the paper again and tucked it into a pocket at his chest. “Which leaves me at an impasse.” He closed his eyes for a second, then took a deep breath. “There’s still work I have to finish here - blood I’ve yet to spill. I’ve no right to ask more of you, but if you could help me, I’d be free to resolve the situation at the Grove. And maybe join you in your search for a cure after that is done.”

She knew what this was about. “The goblin leaders?”

He nodded and was about to answer, but she beat him to it.

“Let me make a suggestion. We will take care of the goblins, as well as their leaders, in our own time. You…” She pointed upwards, poking her finger toward his chest. ”…go back to the Grove right this instant. See that the tieflings are safe and Kagha can’t do more damage than she already has. Set up defences, if you can, and reinforce the gate. Just in case something happens to us.”

The elf looked surprised, but after a moment, he nodded. “I truly hope you know what you’re doing. But… I can see why the ritual would have to be my first priority.”

She sighed with relief. “How will you get ou-“

A small gust of wind blew in her face, and Halsin no longer stood before her. Instead, a raven hovered over the ground, flapping its wings once, twice, before shooting through the open door leading to the temple’s entrance. A handful of black feathers trailed behind him.

“So much for that.” Shadowheart smiled exhaustedly. “Shall we head back?”

They carefully closed the door behind them, hoping no one would notice the bloodbath, at least not until they had left the premises.

On the way out, they revisited a few of the important and not-so-important faces they’d met on their way in.

The cage Volo had been held in was now empty. The man had gulped down an invisibility potion the very second they had cracked the lock and then vanished into thin air.

From the next door, they could still hear leather lashes carving through flesh. That weird, mildly overzealous priest had tried to make his pitch by offering to whip them into a frenzy, which had Nori burst out in laughter.

Finally, they passed Priestess Gut, right at the entrance. She had made a big show of branding her devotees with the so-called ‘Mark of the Absolute’.

Out of curiosity, and because she thought it might come in handy later on, Nori had accepted her offer. Which, in hindsight, may not have been the smartest of moves. Her hand still stung fiercely where the burning metal had scorched her skin.

Everything else, she thought, would be dealt with on their next visit. And then, there would be much more bloodletting involved.

She gave a polite nod to the Priestess on their way through the hall, receiving nothing but a vicious, teeth-baring grin in return.

*

On the upper level, leaning over the parapet, Gale and Wyll had a perfect view of the ongoing revelry.

Which, over the last hour or so, had simmered down rather significantly.

Most of the goblins had fallen asleep right where they stood, snoring either on the ground, the tables or the benches. The ones still standing were in no shape to realise what went on around them, most of them either slurring nonsense into the ears of their already passed out compatriots or slowly succumbing to the effects of the poison themselves.

One had fainted next to the roasting spit, his forehead plunging right into the still-glowing embers, which meant they now found themselves exposed to the less-than-pleasant stench of burning hair.

Around the cage, much to Gale’s relief, things had been relatively quiet. Their nightly visitor had, for the most part, been ignored and left to her peaceful slumber. Except, of course, for that one slightly amusing scene they had witnessed just a few moments ago.

It had been the bugbear, armed with a long stick promising less-than-savoury intent, who came traipsing over the courtyard, approaching the cage with two particularly nasty-looking goblins in tow.

The stick - a long thing, about as tall as the bugbear himself - had been shoved between the bars, utilised for an ungodly amount of prodding and teasing that had those three little monsters screeching with laughter whenever it forced a reaction from the unfortunate recipient.

Gale and Wyll had watched that despicable display of cruelty for a very unpleasant moment until eventually they decided to put an end to the matter. However, just when they were about to leave their post, both the stick and the arm holding it were yanked forward and the bugbear’s skull met the bars with an incredibly satisfying ‘clank’.

Howling in agony, said bugbear then staggered away from the cage, further and further, until he crashed into a bunch of barrels and toppled over backwards, falling silent the moment he hit the floor.

And the goblins’ reaction was even more gratifying. They squealed and fled in terror, scrambling off as far as their wobbly knees would carry them. Which, unsurprisingly, wasn’t very far.

When they, too, went to the ground, a deep, shaky growl emerged from the cage.

“Sounds like a laugh,” Wyll stated, not without some glee.

Gale couldn’t help but grin.

Now, the only remaining problem was the ogre at the main entrance.

“Given your expertise in the field…” Gale turned toward the warlock. “Any idea as to why that one hasn’t joined in so far? I’m curious if this might merely be a quirk of this chap, or perhaps related to some ogre-exclusive intolerance I may not be aware of.”

“Oh, they imbibe…” Wyll scoffed amusedly. “And rather lavishly, under normal circumstances. No, I’d bet this one’s simply not allowed to.”

Gale hummed considerately.

It seemed almost unthinkable. That such a rambunctious horde, despite their crude mannerisms and overall lack of discipline, would still somehow be able to subjugate a beast that size - one presumably equipped with just enough intelligence to comprehend the most basic of instructions, seeing how the specimen in question currently ogled the freshly excavated booger on his finger.

Then again, Gale reminded himself, such a task might not prove quite that daunting when one has tadpoles at their disposal.

“This Ragzlin must be ruling with a stern hand…” Wyll pondered, as if just having read his thoughts. Which Gale honestly hoped not to be the case. Using the tadpoles on the Cult’s minions was one thing. Disconcerting, yes, but ultimately necessary. Invading the mind of one of their own, however, definitely crossed a line. As far as he was concerned.

“Not that it’s uncommon for goblins to enlist his kind, though,” the young man continued in a genuinely lighthearted manner that swept Gale’s mind clean of any incursion-related concerns. “But to have him stick to that spot, keeping aloof from the feast on its own accord… Most other ogres would’ve long given in to their urges. And would likely be nibbling at their comrades by now.”

Propped up on his elbows, Gale leaned forward, curiously observing this so exceptionally well-behaved brute, which, as if called out by name, craned its massive neck to peer up at him. Drool-covered lips curved into a lopsided grin so doltish it almost had him burst into laughter. It lifted a brow, cautiously, as if merely trying to check if the authorities were pleased with its performance.

“The way I see it,” Gale chuckled, withdrawing over the balustrade. “We might end up having to resolve the issue manually.”

Wyll nodded, not bothered in the least. They’d done this before, on the day they had welcomed Karlach into their midst and, shortly thereafter, had been ambushed by those cackling abominations in the hills.

A door creaked. Both men flung forward.

“Well, hello there…” Nori’s chipper voice rang from the walls.

The bard smiled wearily, glaring at the no doubt ill-odoured ogre bum presented to her. Behind her, Astarion and Shadowheart peeked out behind the half-opened door, both of them visibly displeased by the sight.

Upon not receiving a reaction, Nori shrugged and started walking, able to take a whopping three steps until the owner of said bum finally saw fit to turn its head.

Its fleshy lips still sported that obtuse little grin when, after a long moment of confused gawping, it spotted the small figure at its feet. Upon realising who that was and where they’d just come from, its expression turned into one of complete and utter befuddlement. As if the halfling’s reappearance had been the last thing it’d expected.

Nori’s smile began waning a little. Gale and Wyll exchanged a brief, worried glance.

“Boss Lady go in?” the behemoth inquired. Cautiously, as if not quite certain this was the proper way to address its superiors.

Squinting its tiny, fiendish eyes, it ogled the bard, then the door, then the two heads poking out behind it.

Nori winked and snapped her fingers, one of them pointing at its nose.

“Boss Lady has, indeed, gone in,” she said, voice trembling with forcefully held-back giggles. “And right now Boss Lady is trying to go back out, so if you, my dear, illiterate co-conspirator, would be so kind as to move that very impressive chunk of a trunk just a smidge to the left-“

“Boss Lady go. In.”

That didn’t sound like a question.

Right below Gale’s feet, Shadowheart and Astarion concluded the door was no longer a desirable venue. Backs pressed against the wall and trying their best to remain undetected, they went to skulk around both ogre and halfling - when suddenly, the latter decided this was the moment to take a step backwards. Then another. And another.

“All. Go. In,” the ogre tried to elaborate. “All see Boss Ragzlin. All see Minty.”

With a startled ‘oof’, Nori stumbled against Astarion’s knees. The elf, flinching with annoyance, quietly cursed under his breath. Nori didn’t notice. She didn’t even turn around, just frantically prodded his thigh with her elbow.

“We might have a problem…” She hissed through gritted teeth.

Gale raised a brow at Wyll. There was no answer. Just a silent nod. Quietly, both men hurried down the stairs.

“I can see that,” they heard the elf snarl from a distance. “No need to get violent!”

Gale shot around the corner, mutely hailing Shadowheart, fortunately having slunk away unnoticed. Their other two, regrettably pinned-down companions now saw themselves facing a severely miffed, if still somewhat grovelling, brute, showering them with a generous amount of slobber as he pointed out their wrongdoings.

“Minty say True Soul go in. Get brand. Go look spiders. But no eat, Minty say. Minty like spiders. Minty mad when eat spiders.”

Another hail of spit rained down on Astarion’s face. He shuddered in horror, lips pressing shut and brows knotting with bottomless disgust. Nori, on the other hand, saved by her height and therefore blissfully unsullied, threw Gale a desperate glance - all the while still dutifully nodding at the ogre’s ongoing ramblings.

“Now boss lady talk Ragzlin. No go out befo-“

“Impero Tibi!”

Twin bolts of light felled him mid-sentence. Once again, perfectly synchronised.

Gale flashed Wyll a genuinely approving smile.

And immediately brought up his arm to shield his face as the creature plunged to the ground, whirling up ungodly amounts of dust in the process.

Then his gaze fell on Astarion. The elf, immobilised by sheer repugnance, clapped open an eye, pleadingly peering in his direction. That was what it looked like, at least. A plea. But then again, one could never be sure with this man.

Forcing himself not to break into gleeful snickering, Gale climbed over a pair of decidedly ill-positioned ogre feet.

Once again, he was reminded of just how fortunate he was - blessed with an education that always, even in his current state, granted him the means to cast good old Prestidigitation.

The spell cleaned the elf up in less than a second. Face, armour, even those ridiculous frills - spic and span within the blink of an eye.

And yet, as predicted, Gale didn’t receive even the simplest of thank you’s in return. Just a brief, unnervingly coquettish nod. Which, perhaps, was better than nothing. Perhaps.

Nori stepped to his side, arms crossed, frowning as the elf took his leave.

“Why, thank you, Gale. How very considerate of you, Gale. I’d never forget my manners when graced with such a kind, commendable gesture, Gale.”

“Yes, well…” Gale chuckled, head tilting to and fro. “Certain things may never come to pass, I fear.”

“Boy, he really didn’t like you munching on those gloves, did he?”

Gale sighed, suddenly very much aware of how little he’d slept last night. “To be fair, they’d likely have ended up in his possession, had I not asked for them. Oh, and, on a side note…”

He raised a finger, laughing heartily.

“I’d like to, once again, point out that it’s the Weave I’m consuming, not the item itself. Which I imagine would make for quite the entertaining picture, but probably pose a tad impractical in its-“

“Are you two done standing around, being obnoxious?” Astarion yelled from around the corner.

“Bunch of lost causes, the lot of ‘em…” Nori stated, tutting as she set into motion.

The self-proclaimed magistrate had not, as Gale would’ve expected him to, embarked on a wild pilfering spree. And, as far as he could see, also hadn’t indulged in any other of his favourite pastimes. Like stabbing. Or cutting throats.

Instead, he knelt before the cage, flanked by Wyll and Shadowheart as he rummaged through his pack. On the hunt for lockpicking appliances, one would assume.

Upon closing in, Gale noted with some relief that the cat, or rather the woman wearing the skin of a cat, had found the strength to straighten up. Sitting on her hind legs, she observed them with rapt attention - tail whipping anxiously and ears twitching at every word spoken.

He found himself smiling, reminded of a certain someone he’d come to miss rather a lot these days. Someone who probably would’ve found a solution to the whole glove dilemma long before the mood turned sour.

With a soft ‘clink’ the pin latched into place. Astarion grinned, seemingly not the least bit disturbed by having his face mere inches from canines as long as his hand. On the contrary. He winked at her. In a way that seemed genuinely… friendly.

Odd, Gale thought.

The door swung open. And did so almost without creaking, thanks to the elf’s carefully steering hand. Which was a blessing, because there was no telling how deep their host’s slumber still was at this point, considering how much the poison had been thinned down in that trough.

The stranger didn’t move. She just sat there, eying them cautiously. Visibly not trusting the situation. Not quite yet.

“Hope she’s able to move on her own,” Shadowheart remarked with some concern.

Nori smiled warmly, chin nudging toward the courtyard. “Come on now, sweetie. We’re not gonna bite. Pinky promise.”

Astarion snickered, for reasons Gale presumed to be on the more unsavoury side of things. Then took a step back to give her space. Which probably wasn’t the worst of ideas.

On a whim, Gale reached for his pack.

“Perhaps this calls for a more compelling argument.”

He hummed thoughtfully, hunkering down to untie the fastenings.

It felt a little awkward, knowing that she’d be missing those if she were to change back now. The entire situation must feel incredibly embarrassing. Not just because of the clothing dilemma, but also having to rely on a bunch of strangers in such a dreadfully vulnerable state.

She couldn’t even tell them her name. 

“Right!” Nori gasped and gleamed at the cat, one finger pointing at Gale. “See, this guy rescued your stuff, honey. Probably looks a little worse for wear, but it’s there, nonetheless.”

There was a huff, then the sound of paws padding closer.

Wyll sighed with relief. “Theeere we go.”

Something tickled against the back of Gale’s hand. Whiskers, he noted with a smile. Claws clinked on cobblestone. Warm breath brushed against his fingers.

“Now, granted, I’m not certain if there was anything besides these,” he murmured, hopefully quiet enough for the others not to hear. “If not, we better take another gander at that cart. Here, let me show you…”

Gale lifted his head, gazing into wide, eerily luminescent eyes that seemed to pierce right through him - as if somehow understanding every last one of his words. Which, of course, was complete and utter nonsense.

Holding the pack so she could peek inside, he tugged her cloak, pants, tunic and boots to the surface, just enough to show all four items were safe and well taken care of. That, much to his delight, was rewarded with a joyous little trill.

“Wait, what do you mean you’re not certain…” Astarion scowled at him.

Of course, his elven ears had to pick up on that. And, as was to be expected, he didn’t even consider keeping his thoughts to himself. Because why wouldn’t you condemn her to yet another round of embarrassment.

“Are you saying they might have taken… more than that?”

Nori sighed.

“Judging by her reaction, I’m pretty sure they haven’t. But, you know, there was mention of them selling her to the Zhent’s. Or, well…”

Gale diverted his attention to his pack, re-tying the lashes in a way that may have been a tad aggressive.

Nori scratched her neck. “… keeping her.”

“Oh, dear heavens,” Wyll mumbled under his breath.

Astarion wasted no time pressing the matter. “Keep her for what, exactly?”

Gale didn’t need to look up to know Nori was squirming.

“Not sure I want to know,” she continued, all of a sudden sounding mildly impatient. “Thankfully, our… source didn’t go into details. But he thought the whole thing positively hilarious, so I’d bet it would’ve been something nasty.”

Gale straightened up, the pack strapped back around his shoulder. He saw Nori point toward the trader in question, who was currently snoring in the dirt under his cart.

“Did he now…” Astarion trailed off, his voice, for once, lacking quite a bit of its usual sass.

“We should get going,” Shadowheart chimed in, nervously eying the bodies scattered over the yard. “No talking our way out of this one, if we’re unfortunate enough to get caught right now.”

That undoubtedly astute assessment was all it took to stifle the elf’s questioning. Now, he just glowered at the trader, then side-eyed their newest addition in a way Gale wasn’t sure what to make of.

Without further ado, they set to make their way to the bridge.

Wyll and Shadowheart took the lead, finding a path through the passed-out revellers. Some of them were already stirring in their sleep - not quite in the process of waking up, but bound to do so very shortly.

The stranger, now visibly limping, stuck to Gale’s side like glue. Probably unwilling to let his pack and its contents out of her sight, judging by the perpetual glimpses she shot in that direction.

When they were about to pass the gate, she froze in her tracks and stared at the cart, tail whipping furiously.

“Shall we have another look?” Gale inquired softly. She didn’t react.

Then he heard a faint ‘chink’, followed by an almost inaudible “Oh, come on…” from Nori.

Gale didn’t have to turn around to know what happened. He still did. And saw Astarion hunched over Grak’s lifeless body, his dagger dripping with blood.

For once, Gale wasn’t sure he cared that much.

The elf grinned maliciously, wiped the blade on his victim’s pant leg and pushed it back in its sheath.

“Oh, don’t tell me that wasn’t deserved,” he hissed upon catching up.

Gale didn’t respond. Just shrugged and hummed indecisively. Then raised a brow and looked to his side.

Suffice it to say, she didn’t seem to mind.

*

Ley had trouble keeping up. And even more trouble not letting it show.

Part of her was glad to be stuck in this form. This way, she at least had some chance to hide the state she was in. Which was… horrible, to put it mildly. Had she been wearing her human face, she’d probably be in tears at this point.

With every step, no matter how cautious, she felt all those awful metal bits shift under her skin. Burning and biting and making her dizzy. And, because apparently that wasn’t enough, the hole in her chest had opened up again. Now, a slow but steady trickle of blood oozed from the wound, forming wet clumps in her fur. On top of that, her head was spinning and pounding like a war drum. There must have been something on these arrow tips, something that now coursed through her system, leaving her with a sensation like… a bit like being drunk. But in the worst possible way.

She had tried to keep their pace, just to not be a hindrance, but eventually had fallen behind, nonetheless.

Thankfully, both the small lady and purple-robes had been kind enough to stay at her side. Looking at her with genuine worry, as if fearing she’d run off the first chance she got. Which was kind of endearing. And also completely unwarranted.

Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t have had the strength. Besides, the way things were going, she probably wouldn’t survive much longer if she did.

It was her own fault, really.

For overestimating herself. And so thoroughly underestimating what she thought to be just another alien environment. Granted, she hadn’t been in the best position to fend for herself to begin with, but that was no excuse for lack of attention. Not to mention neglecting her injuries. And, of course, she wasn’t exactly accustomed to her magical reserves being as depleted as they were right now.

So when she had strolled around the woods this morning, when those disgusting little creatures had swarmed her, she’d been overwhelmed within just a few moments.

Time to accept the fact that you simply don’t know the rules of this place.

Besides, the prospect of having company did have a certain appeal. Which Ley hadn’t expected as such. What an effect it would have on her. Looking into a friendly face. Or any face, for that matter.

Even if they made her a little nervous.

She’d spent most of the way pondering what she would do, what she’d say once back at their camp. Once she had found a way to get her clothes back on.

They’d probably be inclined to help. That much was clear by now. And Ley was fairly sure she could at least spend the night there, tend to her injuries, maybe get her hands on something to eat.

But what then?

She had no way to repay them. Couldn’t even communicate, for heaven’s sake. So she’d have to find another way of making it up to them. And it better be a good one, because they quite literally just saved her life. Which was nothing she’d be able to compensate for by hunting or picking mushrooms.

Purple-robes said something. Directed at her this time instead of the small lady, whom he’d been talking to for most of their walk.

Ley looked up. He smiled and repeated the words, which, of course, she stood no chance of understanding. But she could… feel them, in a way. If she leaned into it a little.

Something about food, which was meant to be comforting. Then a hint of concern, accompanied by a tap on his pack. A nod toward the small woman. Reassuring.

Alright, Ley thought. Sticking to her then, I guess.

They were almost there. Not only did she recognise the cliffs, but also caught the familiar scent of freshly brewed tea and a peacefully crackling fire.

The gigantic, red-skinned woman hailing them from afar was also somewhat of a giveaway.

So far, Ley hadn’t got close enough to notice just how massive that one was. Were it not for her frantic waving and genuinely charming smile, she’d have probably been intimidated.

Well, for about two seconds. Because as they got closer, said red-skinned woman hunkered down in front of her, blubbering out a barrage of half-chirped gibberish so utterly adorable, Ley would have broken into giggles, had this form allowed her to. A deficit she tried to make up for by giving the most endearing grumble she could muster. Just a cute little ‘grah’, which was met with even more frenetic cooing.

Purple-robes chuckled into his beard. Ley did as well - minus the beard, of course - which came out as a hoarse growl that, thankfully, still seemed to be understood, judging by the beaming grin on the red lady’s face.

What she also hadn’t picked up on so far was the fact that this woman somehow smelled like… fire. Fire and metal. And a hint of sulphur.

Curious. Very, very curious.

The perspective was a bit novel. Now being here, on the ground. Not watching from above, but up close and personal. Hearing all those voices. Laughing and talking, some of them yelling, the combined noise overwhelming enough to make her head spin. And in that, inevitably reminding of pain and exhaustion and those blasted things still stuck under her skin.

Much like the first time she’d set foot in this place, Ley felt the toil of the day fogging her mind all at once. Her lids grew heavier and heavier until, eventually, fluttering shut.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder.

Ley winced, eyes flinging open.

It was the tiny one who stood at her side, gracing her with a smile so thoroughly compassionate it left Ley feeling a little fuzzy. And, looming over her shoulder, the woman with that weird little crown around the base of her braid - also throwing her a smile, even though hers was a tad more guarded.

They beckoned for her to follow. Ley didn’t have it in her to question the what and the why, and therefore just obediently trudged after them.

Purple-robes was mid-discussion when they passed him. With the lady in red and the owner of that other set of horns. None of them was looking their way, which was a bit of a shame. Ley would’ve felt a little better if purple-robes had accompanied them to… well, wherever they were going.

Smallish-pants said something, just one word, and gave him a friendly smack on the back. Then she wrung the pack from his hands.

Ley’s eyes grew wide.

Horned-guy chuckled a remark in purple-robes direction - again, using that word. The one that tiny lass had used a moment earlier. ‘Gale’.

Oh, that’s his name! Ley thought, grumbling with surprise.

That sound was met with more chuckling and a wide smile from purple-robes - Gale - who did not join up with them as they departed for the riverbed. Which now had her a little relieved, considering what the small lady had tucked away under her arm.

They went quite a ways down the beach, leaving behind the camp and the cliffs and the voices, until finally coming to a halt in a nice, secluded spot, obstructed by a conveniently large rock formation.

There, the raven-haired woman muttered something under her breath, to which three tiny, dancing lights appeared in the air.

Ley purred admiringly.

And then swallowed hard, as said woman knelt next to her. Eyes filled with remorse. Throwing her a smile that told Ley everything she needed to know. This would have to go the brutal way. Brutal and, very likely, painstakingly slow.

She sat down, flinching in dreadful anticipation.

The woman said a few words, her voice warm, soothing, and yet somewhat cautious. As if fearing she’d come to experience some violent, teeth-involving reaction. Ley blinked at her, patiently. Then at her hands, hovering inches from the dark splotch gracing her shoulder.

Eyes pressing shut, Ley averted her gaze, trying to brace herself as best she could.

Fingers combed through fur, nudging around the entry wound, trying to determine size and angle. It was commendable, the effort those well-meaning hands made in an attempt to stick with the gentle approach. Carefully prodding and wiggling, trying to loosen the metal before ripping it out. Which, of course, did next to nothing. The hook just bored deeper under her skin.

Her medic sighed with frustration. Then stroked her shoulder, whispering a few reassuring words before firmly closing thumb and index finger around the tip.

And pulled.

Suffice it to say, the pain was agonising.

With a yank, and the disgusting sound of flesh tearing apart, the tip came free.

Ley whimpered, jaw clenching fiercely.

She tried not to look. Just heard a ‘clank’ of metal meeting stone. And then, another sound, one she couldn’t quite place. A kind of… chafing. Ley peeked over her shoulder. Not the one that was currently being tended to, but the other.

There, by the side of the river, the small lady sat bent over Ley’s cloak, frowning and hissing - curses, presumably - and scrubbing away with vigorous determination.

I really need to learn how to say thank you, Ley thought, humming pensively. Tomorrow. First thing on the list.

Then she winced, head snapping back as nimble fingers uncovered another tip.

She tried her best to remain still. To squirm as little as possible.

Which she somehow managed to do until they got to number eight. That one was stuck between her ribs - less than an inch from that slightly older, steadily leaking wound on her chest, which ached terribly under the pressure. Upon reaching a dozen, Ley heard herself whine. A feeble, needlessly pitiful sound that she felt utterly embarrassed about, but no longer had the means to suppress. When the sixteenth tip was torn from her flank, she broke into shivers, somewhat hoping she could just pass and be done with it. But, alas, that mercy wasn’t granted to her. 

When, after successfully removing number twenty-nine, the hands finally withdrew, Ley opened her eyes and turned around. She was met with a smile, equal parts exhausted and relieved.

The woman winked at her, mumbled some words and lifted a hand, which caused Ley to flinch and jerk backwards, half-expecting this to be some kind of joke, a moment of reprieve before her torment continued.

As it turned out, it wasn’t. The woman just chuckled and leaned in, fingers coming closer, but not touching. Instead, they began to glow and from one second to the next, warmth spread over Ley’s skin. Wide-eyed, she looked down on herself, chirping with joy as bruises vanished and tissue grew together seamlessly.

Without thinking, she shifted back.

Bones cracked, claws retracted, and blood-soaked fur gave way to blissfully unsullied skin.

A second later, she was back to being herself, incredulously inspecting her hands. Almost tempted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Wounds she had deemed potentially fatal, healed within seconds. Herself, sitting here in the dirt, sporting nothing but her underwear. Next to two women she was unable to thank for all the kindness they insisted on throwing her way.

Ley looked up.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping to at least somewhat bring the message across.

The black-haired woman smiled and cocked her head, eyes wandering over Ley’s half-concealed body in a way that might have been a little suggestive.

Next to them, the other one cleared her throat.

Ley whirled around. Then laughed as a bundle of clothes, her clothes, was nudged between her fingers.

“Nori,” said the small woman, placing a hand on her chest.

The raven-haired one gave a polite little nod. “Shadowheart.”

“Ley,” said Ley, endlessly grateful, if perhaps a little terrified.

Chapter Text

Words

*

It was dark when they finally returned to camp.

Their newest arrival had fallen behind, and Nori could tell she was nervous. Well, who could blame her? She slowed down a bit, throwing the young woman an encouraging smile as she caught up.

“Ley?”

It took her a second to react. As if she wasn’t used to hearing her name.

Nori reached for her hand. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. They’re a pretty sweet bunch all around. Once you get to know ‘em a bit better.”

She was well aware Ley had no chance of understanding what she said, but that was not the point. This was about her tone and the fact that she made the effort, even if that was ultimately for nothing.

No, not nothing. It was precisely for that; to show that she cared.

Ley smiled and squeezed Nori’s fingers, just for a second, then quickly withdrew to fumble with her sleeves instead.

Shadowheart had gone ahead and already claimed her usual spot by the fire, now entirely captivated by the bowl in her hands. When she lifted her head, spotting Nori and the woman at her side, she threw them a wink and turned to Gale, probably announcing their presence. The wizard jerked around. His hand ceased its idle stirring, the pot amidst the embers temporarily forgotten. His gaze met Nori’s, then wandered over to Ley and a genuine smile took hold of his lips.

Their newcomer writhed in anticipation. Probably dreading the mandatory introductions, which, at least on her end, were bound to come up rather short. Perhaps the frontal approach wasn’t the best idea in this case.

Gently nudging an elbow against Ley’s knee, Nori pointed at the cleric, then herself, murmuring to avoid raising attention. “So, you already know Shadowheart and me…”

“Oh, there you are, darling!”

All heads turned around at once.

Great, Nori thought. Stupid elven ears.

“So, as I was saying…” She sighed, voice back to its usual volume. Again, index finger aiming at the cleric, then herself, she looked up. Ley quirked a brow at her, then at the others, smiling a tad more coquettishly than Nori had expected.

A bit on the cocky side, huh? Good. I can work with that.

“Shadowheart, li’l 'ol me. And then, let’s see… This would be Wyll.”

The warlock waved, grinning his usual chipper grin.

“Here we have Karlach.”

The tiefling opened her mouth but had apparently forgotten how to do the thing with the words, therefore resorted to awe-struck gawping.

“This over here is Lae’zel.”

The githyanki gave a brief, surprisingly respectful nod. To Nori’s amusement, Ley mimicked the gesture.

“There we have Astarion, our resident lock-breaker. Please don’t ask where he learned that.”

There was a smirk and a flirtatious wink, as was to be expected. What she didn’t expect, however, was to see Ley’s lips curl upward in response. She even winked back.

“Right…” Nori cleared her throat. “And finally, the man who has the decency to provide supper for us weary, worn out-“

“Gale.” Ley’s voice was soft and melodic, if a bit hoarse. Like she hadn’t used it for quite some time.

The wizard smiled and hummed into his stewpot, then went to fill another bowl with whatever it was he had conjured up for the evening.

Pumpkin soup, Nori surmised after glimpsing the thick orange contents. Her mouth watered at the heavenly scent and her stomach made itself known with an audible grumble.

“This would be Ley, by the way.” Nori declared, thumb pointing over her shoulder.

Now the woman at the other end of said thumb found herself exposed to a crossfire of friendly hellos and tried her best to meet them all with a smile. Which was commendable, considering how much she squirmed and blushed under their collective gaze.

Nori didn’t think twice, just grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to a spot conveniently within reach of the wizard and the freshly filled bowls in his hand. One of them, thankfully, found its way between her fingers right the second her rear met the log.

Temporarily unable to focus on anything not spoon- or bowl-shaped, she zoned out for a moment. Around them, the conversations picked up where they had left off, to which the woman next to her seemed to settle down a smidge. Although, she still hadn’t taken the bowl from Gale’s hands.

“अहां कें धन्यवाद. सत्ते.”

Ley tugged at the hem of her sleeve, flashing him the widest of smiles. Her words, quiet but distinctly emphasised, sounded a lot like the ones from earlier.

“Believe that’s a thank you,” Nori concluded, chuckling at Gale’s curious frown. “For getting her stuff, I’d wager.”

“Ah! Don’t mention it,” he replied warmly, finally allowed to nudge the bowl into Ley’s hands. “That was hardly a bother at all.”

Seconds later, her attention was lost to orange, gooey goodness, her expression one of pure bliss. Gale grinned into his beard, thoroughly satisfied with her reaction.

A little while later, once they had finished their supper, the discussion returned to the events of the day and, eventually, their plans looking forward.

“We should take a look at that inn,” Wyll said. “Waukeen’s Rest. If there’s anyone left alive, they may need a helping hand. Or, if that’s not the case - we may still salvage something useful.”

“They’ve apparently abducted a duke,” Nori said, chewing her bottom lip. “If the Absolutists abducted a duke, what does that tell us?”

“That they know what they’re doing, my dear,” Astarion replied smugly. “With a tadpole in the head of someone so illustrious, so influential, there’s no telling what doors may open to them.“

Right. A magistrate would be familiar with such methods. Might even approve of them.

“Alright, Waukeem’s Rest - first thing on the list,” Karlach reeled them back to their initial topic. “Maybe after that, we could go back to the grove? Check in on that druid? Pay this Dammon guy a visit?”

Shadowheart nodded. “Agreed. We can also use that opportunity to buy another tent for…” She nudged her head in Ley’s direction.

Things went on like that for a while.

Ley, patiently watching from the sidelines, followed the discussion with rapt attention - an intense look on her face, as if trying to commit every word to memory for further study. Now, there seemed to be a question forming in her eyes. And by the looks of things, it was meant for the wizard.

“Gale?” She asked, far too quietly to be heard through the others’ ceaseless jabbering.

Nori chuckled silently, watching tentative fingers reach for his knee to get his attention. His head flung around, lips immediately bending upward.

“How can I help?”

“अहाँकेँ हमर पोथी भेटि गेल अछि.” One finger, no longer tentative, aimed toward his tent.

Toward his tent…?

Nori couldn’t help but grin. Someone handed her a cup of wine, which she gratefully took, quickly returning her attention to the mildly awkward back and forth at her side.

Gale cleared his throat, a little flustered.

“Not sure I understand what you’re implying here, but if you are asking to have my tent for the night, I’m sure we can find some sort of compr-“

Ley frantically shook her head. Which was a little odd, because, technically, she shouldn’t be able to understand a single word. But then, there was probably magic afoot, working in ways Nori couldn’t quite put her finger.

“पुस्तक?” Ley tried again, squinting and raising a brow. “हमर पोथी?”

That was met with a smile, completely befuddled and utterly clueless.

Their newest addition sighed and bit her lips, contemplating for a second. Then, side-eying his tent again, she rubbed her palms together and pointed at his nose. Nori grinned even wider. A classic ‘You just sit there and watch’, if ever she saw one.

One arm stretched toward the wizard’s humble accommodations, Ley snapped her fingers. The flap flung open. There was a ‘swoosh’, the fluttering of pages and, accompanied by a faint gust of wind, the recently pilfered book flopped into her lap. She picked it up, one hand on its spine, the other flicking through it in an almost loving manner. When runes started appearing on the paper, it finally clicked.

Gale mouthed a quiet ‘Oh’.

“Think we found the navigator,” Nori snickered into her cup.

Several heads turned in their direction.

Wyll leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents. “Or the captain.”

“पुस्तक,” Ley repeated and tapped at the page, then at her chest. “हमर पुस्तक.”

“Your book, I know,” Gale sighed in embarrassment. “Not sure why I didn’t think of that soone-“

“Book?” Ley cocked her head, squinting inquisitively. “पुस्तक?”

The wizard nodded, smiling as understanding dawned on his face. “Precisely. Book.”

For a moment, she just stared at him.

Then, in a flurry of excitement, she rushed through the pages, eyes sparkling with glee upon finding a blank one. One swipe of her finger drew a line down the middle. Runes appeared on either side, each forming a different-looking word. Soon, there was an entire list, rapidly expanding and rolling over the next page.

“Here we go,” Nori murmured.

Gale didn’t react, completely transfixed on flying hands and rustling paper.

As Ley turned the pages, keeping a finger at the one with the list, they watched elegant, narrow handwriting unfurl under her touch. There were illustrations and diagrams, many of them moving and churning and clearly brimming with magic. She stopped at what seemed to be the blueprint for a ship. Her ship, by the looks of things. This time in its complete, unblemished form. Almost twice the size of the wreckage, now that the rear part wasn’t missing.

With a flick of her wrist, she somehow dragged the illustration from the parchment, the ink now forming a three-dimensional model that floated mid-air.

“Awesome…” Karlach gasped from across the fire.

Ley flashed her a grin, then flipped back to the list. The ship remained hovering in place.

“जहाज,“ She pointed at another set of runes, expectantly looking at Gale.

The wizard smiled widely, now fully in his element. “That would be a ship, then.”

Yet another word wrote itself on the page.

Over the flames, Nori and Wyll exchanged an amused glance.

Within moments, they had covered a dozen more. Ley flew through her book at lightning speed, ever-pointing and inquiring. Eventually, Gale added his own flavour, conjuring tiny illusions over the palm of his hand - a flame, a cloud, a tent - all of them rewarded with joyful gasps and frantic scribbling.

As they went on, their bilingual babbling picked up the pace, and once the list encroached upon the second page, it was simply impossible to keep up with them.

Eventually, Nori clapped her hands on her thighs and, with a weary groan, hopped from the log to assist Shadowheart with the clean-up.

They were in the middle of drying the dishes when she peeked back over her shoulder, then turned to grin at the cleric.

“The way this is going, she’s gonna have the basics down in less than a tenday. And then, who knows… Might have found ourselves a backup mage right there. Can never have too many of those.”

“We should keep in mind though,” Shadowheart replied, vigorously scrubbing the last greasy residue from the pot in her hands. “That if her wounds are supposed to keep healing, she may actually need to sleep at some point.”

“Oh, yeah…” Nori conceded. “That might be an issue.”

They had reached the giggling phase by now. And probably hadn’t realised they were the only ones left by the fire, judging by how deeply they were absorbed in their discussion.

Whether it was due to being presented with an intellectual challenge, or said challenge being posed by someone similarly quick-witted, the wizard was beaming with excitement. His eyes were glued to Ley’s face, as if observing a particularly intriguing puzzle. Completely aloof to the world around him and fixed on solving it with every fibre of his being. And she seemed to share his enthusiasm in equal measure. Which wasn’t the least bit surprising, in Nori’s opinion. To her, finding a way to communicate had to be a matter of utmost urgency.

“I’ll go talk to them.”

She tossed aside the rags she’d dried the last plate with and sauntered over towards the fire.

Ley had just pulled another illustration out of her book, this time depicting the model of a miniature solar system. Gale’s fingers danced over the tiny celestial bodies as he named them, so invested in his task that he didn’t hear Nori’s approaching footsteps.

“… moon rotating around the planet, which would be a term closely associated to- ”

Ley peeked around the orbs, winking in her direction.

Nori mirrored the wink and cleared her throat, causing the wizard to cease his prattling and whirl around.

“Bit of a mouthful just to describe the moon, don’t you think?” She chuckled, squinting a bit sceptically. “How would she determine which word’s the right one?”

Before he had a chance to reply, Ley huffed and pursed her lips, fingers dancing over all three floating orbs. “Sun. Moon. Planet.” Then, almost sounding a bit insulted; “ओतेक कठिन नहि.”

Gale hummed with approval, the beaming smile now apparently a permanent feature.

“Well, as you can see…” He chuckled, facing Nori again. “… my proclivity for loquaciousness doesn’t seem to be much of an obstacle. Somehow, she’s perfectly capable of sieving the desired information from the rest of my blathering. And does so without fail, I might add - we’re around sixty translations in and she’s yet to make a mistake. Which, of course, does raise the question if this is just a matter of commendable empathy, or if there may be some sort of semi-intentional mind-reading in play that-“

“Gale…” Nori snickered, raising a hand to stifle his rambling. “This woman had a metal spike as thick as my arm rammed through her chest only two days ago. She has to heal. Which means, she has to rest. Now, granted, I haven’t yet figured out where, exactly. But still...”

She sighed, scratching her neck whilst looking around the premises.

Every single tent was occupied. Karlach, who - until now - had been the latest addition to their group, already had to improvise with a bunch of sticks and some shoddy ragtag canopy. Which thankfully didn’t really seem to bug her, but now they had absolutely nothing left to work with.

With a deep yawn, Ley closed the book, the glinting solar system sucked back between the pages seconds before the cover snapped shut.

Gale threw her a glance from the side, considering the matter with a frown. “Is there nowhere we can squeeze her in? The kitchen tent perhaps, if nothing else is available…”

Nori cocked her head, doubtfully glancing at the tent in question. “We’d have to make room in there first. And then there’s the matter of the bedroll. Think the last one we had went to Karlach.”

Completely unperturbed by all the worried frowning, Ley rose to her feet. Sluggishly tucked the book away under her cloak and smiled, giving them a bleary look from behind drooping lids.

“I suppose I could conjure up some pillows or what have you…” Gale pondered, distractedly rubbing a hand over his beard. “Not a perfect solution, but perhaps sufficient until-“

“अहां कें धन्यवाद.“

They stared at her, mutely watching as she walked off, bent down to shift mid-walk and, in one sleek move, leapt onto the nearby boulder. There, she curled into a ball of silver fur and simply closed her eyes.

“… Or that.” Gale stated, not without some mirth. “That would work as well.”

Nori grinned, failing to suppress a yawn.

“I was thinking, maybe you would like to stay here tomorrow, while we pay that inn a visit? Continue where you left off with her today? And perhaps keep an eye on the camp while you’re at it.”

“You know what…” he got up from the log, nodding as he headed toward his tent. “That sounds like a splendid idea.”

*

As per usual, Gale woke at first light and was the only one up and about for a good long while.

And like every morning, after changing his velvety nightwear for wrap shirt and robe, he quietly made his way to the kitchen tent, lit the fire and began with the breakfast preparations.

The grey heap of fur on top of the central boulder was still snoozing peacefully when he plucked the teakettle from the embers, just in time before its seething could rip the rest of the camp from their slumber. The first one to join him, also a daily rite by now, was Scratch. This time not expectantly eying the silently bubbling porridge, but proudly presenting his dearly beloved, slobber-soaked ball. Which, suffice it to say, stayed right where it was, despite the woefully pleading glances he then commenced to shoot his way.

“You’ll have to forgive me, boy,” Gale chuckled, briefly lifting his gaze from a half-chopped assortment of fruit, most of which were leftovers from Ley’s bounteous gift she’d endowed them with just two nights prior. Squinting and smiling, he pointed at the drool puddle accumulating on the ground. “But I fear that wouldn’t go too well with apricots and raspberries.”

The dog, glaring at him with as much indignation as his canine face allowed for, huffed and plucked his precious treasure from the floor, then dramatically strutted off.

Seconds later, Gale heard a loud whine from just a few paces away. When he turned around, he saw Scratch standing at the foot of the boulder, neck craned, the ball furiously squeaking away. Ley opened her eyes and poked her snout over the ledge, not only in cat form but also four times his size, which, as far as Gale was concerned, said a lot about the dog’s courage. Either that or his iron determination to find someone who’d play fetch with him.

She leapt down from the boulder, exchanging a somewhat awkward glance with said dog, who still didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, and shifted back. Gale watched with amusement as they scampered off toward the river. Ley, giggling giddily, Scratch doing his best to follow suit by yipping and wagging not only his tail but his entire rear end as well.

A short while later, the porridge halfway done, and the tea cooled down to an agreeable temperature, silent steps came up behind him.

Gale threw a glance over his shoulder and was faced with a radiant smile.

“Good morning,” he said, watching as Ley went to peer inside the pot, visibly delighted by its contents.

Then she threw him an inquiring look, squinting and pouting her lips. “Goomorning…?”

He hummed amusedly, gestured for her to take a seat, and quickly went to fetch two cups from the tent. When he came back out, she was following his invitation and scooting over the bench, exceedingly careful and with one hand firmly pressed to her side.

Gale made a mental note to inquire with Shadowheart if there really was nothing to be done about this. Surely, there had to be some means to speed up the healing process. If not by magical means, which he was well aware might not be possible for the cleric whilst tending to all their frequently suffered battle wounds, then perhaps by more traditional ones. Or with an alchemical concoction of some kind. Even requesting the aid of the druids might be an option worth considering, provided they wouldn’t just revert to handing out wyvern poison again.

Ley cleared her throat, shyly tapping a finger on the cover of her book, which now had found its way to the table.

“Right,” he smiled, pouring them each a cup of still-steaming tea and handing one to her. “I believe I have a few new ones for you.”

She took the cup with both hands, savouring the scent with closed eyes. In front of her, the book sprung open on its own.

“Marvellous,” he whispered, then stepped to her side. “Could you go back to the one from yesterday, the one with the moon, the sun… the planet?” He made sure to put more emphasis on the terms she already knew.

Ley didn’t look up from her tea, but the book flicked back to the page he’d asked for.

Gale “Very good. This brings me to the topic at hand.”

He uttered a short incantation, accompanied by a quick gesture with his right hand. It was a flat ellipsis that now hovered over his fingers, and next to it, a small, shining orb.

“Let’s imagine for a moment that this is our world or, well - the planet we stand on,” he nudged his cup at the disc, then gestured toward the ground.

Ley leaned in closer, her sleeves almost touching his, eyes brimming with curiosity.

“And this,” he let the orb hover at the edge of the disc, “the sun.”

When she nodded and her face lit up in anticipation, Gale couldn’t help but feel a flash of pride. This whole scenario had him fondly reminded of those few, in hindsight, rather pleasant years as a teacher. That was, of course, before his duties as a Chosen had rendered such mundane occupations not only impossible but also obsolete. Needless to say, he was looking forward to spending this day in camp, focused on nothing but precisely that - teaching. Quickly and efficiently. To give this undoubtedly brilliant mind the tools it required to get around. And perhaps, just perhaps, because he couldn’t wait to have a long, in-depth conversation about ships and portals and, well, everything else regarding the outer planes.

With a twirl of his finger, the tiny sun rose over the disc’s edge.

“This is the time of day we’d describe as morning,” he said, ordering the sun to wander higher. “This would be called noon…” It reached the other side. “Followed by evening…” Now it had passed the edge again, moving underneath the disc. “And finally, the night.”

A small rustling sound drew his attention to the book. It had flipped back to the list from before, which now expanded with several new entries.

“Morning, noon, evening, night,” Ley murmured. After a moment of hesitation, she opened her mouth again. She made a vague gesture toward the illusion as a whole and raised a brow. “Time?” Then her fingers slid up and down the list. “आ ई…? Words?”

She sipped at her tea and glanced up at him, waiting for a sign of approval.

“Absolutely correct, yes,” he gave her a wide smile.

This promised to be a fascinating endeavour. Even more so, as he was fairly certain that last term hadn’t come up so far. Which would indicate there may indeed be something to his theory of her subconsciously picking up on thoughts. Some of them, at least. A notion that still didn’t sit well with him, if he was completely honest. In this case, though, the benefits undeniably outweighed the downsides.

He drifted off for a second, rifling through the plans he had already roughly outlined throughout the morning. Building up a base vocabulary shouldn’t prove too difficult, but what about more abstract terminology or complex grammatical constructs? And how would he even begin to explain idioms like-

“Gale?”

Nimble fingers tugged at his sleeve.

Forcing himself back into the here and now, Gale glanced down and saw her flicking through the book by hand, quickly finding the page with the illustrated solar system. With one finger, she flung it into the air. Then beckoned two of the tiny orbs closer. The planet and the sun. When she looked up again, she poked her finger at the planet, on a spot that faced the sun directly. Her eyes locked on his again, brows raised as if to check if he was paying attention.

He was, indeed, very much paying attention.

The planet rotated around its axis, her finger not moving an inch.

“Oh, you mean the whole cycle?” Gale laughed. This was too easy. She essentially did his job for him. “That’s what we'd call a day. Now let’s see…”

He waved the third orb, the moon, closer and set it to rotate around the planet.

Ley’s lips parted into a grin.

*

When Nori crawled out of her shelter, yawning through wine-filmed teeth and stumbling forward on legs that struggled to remember what they were supposed to be doing, she habitually set for the kitchen tent. On the way, something wet nudged against her hand, followed by a waft of hot, slobbery dog breath that brushed against her cheek.

“Mornin’, pooch,” she croaked blearily.

Her skull was pounding with what would likely develop into a fully grown headache. A good bit of that was probably due to the wine from last evening, but most of it had to have been related to the dream that still lingered somewhere at the edge of her mind.

Whatever motivation that figure, that self-proclaimed ‘guardian’, had for helping her - if that was truly what it was doing - she did not appreciate the decisions it had made regarding its appearance. Regarding the face it had chosen to wear.

Her face. Ellie’s face.

Which, considering that those dreams had begun shortly after the nautiloid had seen fit to pluck her straight from the hay in Garret’s stables, caused Nori all kinds of nightmarish visions.

The thought that the blasted thing could have snatched her as well, that there was a chance she had been stuck in a pod just like the rest of them, tadpoled and unconscious, waiting for her fate to be sealed… The idea that she, too, might have crashed and was perhaps still stuck in that pod, not found, not freed, injured or worse…

No, Ellie was safely tucked away back home, tending her shop. And probably worried sick about her. At least, that was what Nori hoped for with all her heart. That she had to hope for, if she wanted to stay functional.

Mutely, she threw the tadpole a row of particularly nasty curses, hoping that, at least on some level, the stupid thing would understand. And then, just for good measure, a few more at her Ellie-faced ‘guardian’.

Her head was throbbing with pain. She needed her tea. No, what she needed was coffee, but those damn druids had nothing that came even close. So the tea had to fill in as a poor substitute, one that didn’t quite manage to get her going like she needed it to. Not that it mattered. These days, she usually ended up knee-deep in monster guts before lunchtime, and that usually did the job.

There were people in front of the kitchen tent, backs turned toward her and jabbering excitedly. Nori blinked in confusion, eyes still refusing to open fully. Did she miss something important?

She heard loud, heartfelt laughter, which was a bit unusual at this hour. Then a dulcet, amused-sounding baritone emerged on a monologue lengthier than it had any right to be at this godless time of day. Which would, of course, indicate the perpetrator to be none other than that overly verbose wizard. Seconds later, another voice, just as cheerful and bright as a bell, replied with a barrage of endearing, if slightly over-enthusiastic chirping sounds Nori had no idea what-

She rubbed both hands over her face. Then she blinked. And blinked again.

Right in front of the tent, a cluster of blinking, twirling objects hovered in the air like a swarm of luminous insects. Squinting a bit, her sleep-ridden mind identified them as illusions. Orbs, runes, numbers, some of which she had never seen before, all of them shimmering and twisting and forming confusingly abstract patterns.

“What in the hells…”

Ley whirled around.

“Good morning!” She blurted out, proudly grinning from ear to ear.

A little while later, Nori sat on a log next to the long extinguished campfire, devouring a bowl of exceptionally delicious breakfast porridge, featuring fruits and berries, and a wild assortment of nuts.

“So, you covered all that…” Nori pointed her spoon at the seemingly endless list, now stretching over several of the constantly moving pages on Ley’s lap. “... this morning?”

Gale, very satisfied with himself, judging by the needlessly complacent smile, handed her a big mug of freshly brewed tea. “As it turns out, both parties being able to utilise magic for communicational means is quite the advantage when it comes to learning foreign languages.”

On the other side of the pit, Ley chuckled at some comment from Astarion. Now it was the elf that fed her with words whilst leaning in a smidge closer than would have strictly been necessary. To his visible disappointment, her eyes remained fixed on the book in her lap, though her lips were twitching at the no doubt insinuating hogwash being whispered in her ear.

Nori looked back up at the wizard. “You guys gonna be alright back here?”

“We…?” Gale ripped his gaze from the book and its owner, then cleared his throat. “Why, yes, of course. It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Nonsense,” she declared through a mouth full of porridge. “Quick investigation of what’s left of the inn, then maybe take a peek at where this gith patrol is supposed to be. Might not even have to fight anything today.”

“Are we ready to go?” Shadowheart stepped up from behind. She placed one foot on the log and began to tie her shin guards, their metal clinking against the chain mail on her forearm.

“Just a moment,” Nori said, lifting her almost empty bowl.

After successfully annihilating every last bit of porridge, she went to her tent and was halfway through buttoning up her trusty minstrel vest when Lae’zel approached her. She seemed tense and had polished her armour up to a state where it almost hurt the eye. Presumably, to leave a good impression should they indeed happen to run into those gith.

“I see our guest has found part of her strength again,” she said, stoically sizing up Ley from a distance. “Good. She may prove useful after all.”

“Patience, Lae’zel,” Nori tried to assuage. “What this one may or may not do for us remains to be seen. We can hardly drag her into a fight she has no ties to. It’s not like she owes us anything.”

“Oh, but she does,” Lae’zel huffed, cocking a brow. “If not for board and lodging then at the very least for her rescue.”

Which you didn’t even play a part in, Nori thought and sighed exhaustedly.

“I agree,” Astarion appeared next to them, grinning from one pointy ear to the other. “She most definitely owes us. And, looking back on the last few days, seems to prefer her debts paid in full.”

Over at the firepit, Ley lifted her nose from the book and threw them a smile, eyes briefly meeting the elf’s. His expression instantly turned into one of unbearable smugness.

Shadowheart, having finally donned her armour, gave the elf a look of utter disbelief. “This one won’t be picking up on what you’re putting down for a while, Astarion,” she chided derisively. “Even if she keeps making progress at this pace. Might as well save yourself the effort.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed in response. “Of course she picks up on it.”

To their right, Gale emerged from his tent. He passed them by, humming contentedly, arms laden with books, furled-up parchment and half a dozen quills.

When he glanced in their direction, Astarion grinned ambiguously. “Try not to have too much fun while we’re gone, alright?”

The wizard didn’t pause in his tracks, just scoffed and proceeded to the fire.

“You’re a menace,” Nori said frostily.

“True…” The elf leaned in and, out of nowhere, pulled her lute from behind his back, then nudged it between her fingers. “But I’m a useful menace.”

*

Three hours in, Ley felt mentally exhausted in a way she never thought was possible.

The level of attention paid to each word coming out of her mouth, to every single movement of her hands - It somewhat reminded her of her student years. Of how nervous she’d been whenever she had to defend a project in front of the council or pitch an idea to the High Engineer.

Granted, in this case, she didn’t have to make an effort to hold anyone’s attention. He was listening, intensely focused, and with seemingly endless patience. And that was wonderful, but didn’t change the fact that her survival was at stake. That there was no room for mistakes. Needless to say, the pressure was weighing heavily on her. If it wasn’t for the genuine, amiable nature of this man, she probably would have folded a while ago. Would’ve grabbed her book and fled somewhere quiet to bury herself in her notes.

Fortunately, their ever-increasing pace didn’t leave time for self-doubt. They were breezing through the diagrams and illustrations in those books he brought, through illusions that plopped into existence with a snap of the finger and were then tossed aside, adding to the vortex of images now lazily drifting around them.

By now, her list contained about two to three hundred words and they had managed to split them into several categories, which made adding to it even easier.

The first ones were the obvious; nouns, verbs, adjectives, and so on. But then they had also started to define subgroups like objects, needs, and actions. And there were countless more to come, to be added as they progressed.

Gale lifted a finger, one moment later producing one of his own books. He swiftly flicked through the pages, pausing at one that depicted a map. It was hand-drawn and, at least in Ley’s eyes, rather crude, but good enough for what she thought him to be going for. He aimed at a long line meandering halfway across the page, now and then branching off in smaller segments.

He spoke a few words, most of which she didn’t understand, but one of them was ‘water’ and that they had already covered.

Ley flicked her wrist and conjured up a flat circle that floated next to the book. Squinting and pouting her lips, she modelled the surface of her little disc into a rudimentary landscape, featuring mountains, hills and a slowly moving body of water that snaked around them.

“Water,” she said, raising a brow at Gale, then added another word she had learned just a few minutes ago. “Running… water?”

He chuckled, then nodded. “Not running, but…” There was a new word, possibly that for ‘moving’, which had come up several times now. “… water. River.”

Repeating the last word, he tapped against the map, then the list on her book.

“River,” she mumbled and committed it to the pages.

And yet another category, she thought. Geography. Good one.

Then she took a deep breath and pointed at the hills on her improvised landscape model, looking at him expectantly.

“Hill,” he said in his language and raised a hand, no doubt to take the next logical step and aim at the mountains.

A word popped into Ley’s at this point slightly frazzled mind. One of those she had picked up the day before and instinctively understood.

“Mother hill,” she said without thinking.

To her right, Gale snickered into the collar of his robe.

Ley, a bit befuddled by her mouth suddenly acting so completely without authorisation, turned her head and saw herself faced with a grin.

“Erm…” She hummed embarrassedly, cheeks burning a little. Then pointed at the mountains once more, pleadingly raising a brow. “Big hill? Word?”

“Oh, no…” He chuckled and shook his head, the grin growing wider. “Mother hill is…” Another word she didn’t know. It felt like the word for ‘good’, but somehow… weightier. More precise.

Perfect, she thought. That’s what it is.

The translation for ‘perfect’ wrote itself in the book.

“… but I believe the one you’re looking for is mountain,” Gale continued, kind enough not to stick with the teasing.

When she looked up again, however, the smile was still there and just as beaming as before. And the weight of his gaze just as crushing.

Six years in the void. Six years of silence, of not seeing a single other face, hearing no voice other than her own. Six years of breathing the same, endlessly recycled, stale air, and eating the same tasteless food.

During all this time, Ley had tried to take care of her mental well-being to the best of her ability, which, for the most part, meant suppressing every emotion that had a chance to drag her down. She had gone out of her way to forget what it felt like to see someone smile, to hear laughter, to feel the skin of another person under her fingers. And yes, she didn’t need any medical expertise to know that was the opposite of healthy. Under normal circumstances, anyway. But then her situation didn't exactly meet the requirements for normal.

Yesterday, Nori had touched her. Very briefly. Through the metal bars of the cage and later, when she had led her to the others around the campfire. The first time, Ley thought her heart would jump out of her chest. The second time she felt the same, with the slight difference that, for a moment at least, she tried to reciprocate the gesture, and the sensation was so unfamiliar she had trouble resisting the urge to tuck tail and run. It had gotten a little easier since then, but not by much.

And the way Gale looked at her made her feel even worse.

No, not worse, she thought, just overwhelmed. Completely and utterly overwhelmed.

It wasn’t enough that those hundred and hundreds of unfamiliar smells and sounds already caused her massive sensory overload. It wasn’t enough that the taste of a simple soup,  seasoned with real spices, had almost made her cry. It wasn’t enough that she had been bombarded with kindness from several people, or, at least, what felt like it to her.

Now this man had voluntarily sat with her for hours, all this time singularly focused on giving her the ability to communicate, eyes always glued to either her book or her face. Meeting even the smallest achievement with approval and boundless excitement.

It felt like the guy was trying to run her over with his smile.

*

Of course, there had to be a fucking dragon. She had hoped for at least one day - just one - without a fight. But apparently, that was too much to expect. Nori ran both hands over her face, trying to rub off weariness and exhaustion.

She looked over at the others.

They had taken a small break, resting on the bleak rocks on the clifftop that overlooked the goblin camp. Most of them had been injured, some of them pretty heavily. Astarion and Karlach sat close by, the elf playing with his dagger and glaring down into the chasm that opened up in front of them. The tiefling chewed on some of their provisions, anxiously eying the blood-soaked githyanki on the rock next to her.

Lae’zel had taken the most hits by far - had stormed into the fight, all wounded rage and righteous fury, after the Kith’rak had given the order for their execution.

Now, she impassively stared holes into the air, ignoring Wyll, who talked to her in hushed words whilst Shadowheart inspected the massive gap where their leader’s sword had buried into her shoulder. When the cleric tried to loosen the fastenings of her chestplate, attempting to get to the wound, the gith just scoffed and slapped her hand away.

Maybe this was my fault, Nori thought. What am I saying, it most definitely was.

Had she let Lae’zel deal with the Kith’rak on her own, as she had suggested earlier, things might have turned out differently. But no, she had to open her mouth, had to do her usual thing, trying to weasel her way through a conversation with nothing but her charm and her questionable sense of humour.

And the Kith'rak had seen right through it.

Now, their strongest fighter had almost lost her arm, Wyll almost lost his one remaining good eye and Shadowheart had been beaten up so badly that the black of her fringe seamlessly transitioned into the bruises around her eyes.

Nori looked over at the deep claw marks the dragon had carved into the stone right at the edge of the cliff. Had they come here first, had they taken a look at the goblin camp before going to the bridge, they would have had at least some idea of what they were about to get into.

It seemed whatever decision she made, it always resulted in the worst possible outcome.

She sighed and walked over to her wounded companions, set her pack down on the ground, and started rummaging through its contents.

“Here you go,” she said and pulled out the last of the greater healing potions, handing it to Lae’zel.

“I don’t need your pity.” The gith looked at her as if she had just insulted her queen, her crèche, and her whole heritage in one go.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. Wyll let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

The warlock had been coping surprisingly well, considering it had barely been two hours since they discovered whom it was the Absolutists had taken from Waukeems’ Rest. It could not have been easy, facing such a painful reminder of your past and learning that your only close relative had been taken prisoner by a mad, world ending cult. But he held himself well, much better than she had expected from a guy his age.

There had been quite a few interesting revelations today. Both regarding Wyll’s background, the plot behind Duke Ravengards’ abduction, and the information they had gathered from their intermezzo with the githyanki patrol.

All of it pointing either to Moonrise Towers, or the crèche.

“You wouldn’t get my pity, even if you tried,” Nori barked, still holding out the flask. “You do, however, need your strength for when we run into your people again. And you definitely need your gods damn arm to hold a sword when that happens. So how about you take the stupid potion and just get it over with?”

The harsh tone was unintentional, but maybe that was exactly what Lae’zel needed. She looked at her with something that was probably more amusement than respect, took the flask with her good arm, pulled the cork with her teeth, and emptied its contents down in one gulp.

“We need to regroup,” Nori muttered toward Wyll and Shadowheart. “Lick our wounds and think about our next steps. There is not much else we can do, considering the state we’re in.”

“So… back to camp?” Karlach sounded disappointed, which was understandable. Yet another day had passed without them sorting out those paladins at the tollhouse. But their current situation hardly left room for a detour right now.

“Yes, hun,” Nori sighed and turned to look at her. The frustration on the tiefling’s face was heartbreaking, sending a surge of bitter guilt through her guts. “They’re not getting away, don’t you worry. But for now, we gotta head back to Gale and Ley, alright?.”

“Wonder what those two have been up to all day,” Wyll mumbled as he reached out to help Nori up.

“Oh, nothing as exciting as this,” Astarion smirked. “I bet they’ve just been sitting over that book of hers, trying very hard not to ogle each other.”

*

Gale looked down at the plate in his hands, then at the now empty spot on the log, blinking in profound confusion. He had no clue what he’d done wrong.

She had gestured for him to wait, feverishly searching for something in her book, so he decided that perhaps the time was right for them to take a break. He’d got up quietly, so as not to disturb whatever train of thought she had embarked on, rushed over to the kitchen tent and grabbed a bunch of refreshments, then hurried back to her.

He squinted at the plate again. Surely she couldn’t have interpreted grapes, some bread and a few slices of cheese as some kind of insult?

Well, whatever the case may be, it had startled her enough to flinch, as if presented with a knife to her throat. And now she was gone. Down to the river, one would presume.

He had been under the assumption things were going well, given how much progress they’d made in such little time. Given how quickly she picked up whatever he threw her way, getting even faster as the hours passed by. Soaking up information like a sponge. Which he thought was a rather invigorating experience, even though he knew that commitment was likely not just due to her thirst for knowledge but the unfortunate circumstances of her current situation.

Perhaps this had simply been too much at once.

Hurt and shock and all those new impressions, undoubtedly taxing enough as they were, all of it now topped off with that bout of hyperactive zeal. That last part he could unequivocally relate to, knew all too well the dangers of getting lost in this state. All-hearing and all-consuming, the mind spiralling further and further out of control until every sense of self-preservation was lost. Until both spirit and body were all but burnt out.

Alas, none of that he’d be able to help with, as long as he didn’t have the means to talk to her. Meaning that for now, the only solution was to leave her alone. Wait until she’d dealt with that anxious spell herself, instead of risking to push it further.

Although he had greatly appreciated the distraction. For a few hours, his thoughts had not been occupied by the unwelcome visitor stuck behind his eye or guilt about not being able to reach Tara and his mother, both probably beside themselves with worry by now. Not even the subtle, but constant struggle to keep that thing in his chest contained had been able to sour his mood.

Now, as Gale trudged off with the plate, his mind trailed back to his dream from last night.

Which had to be related to the tadpole. There was no way She would visit him like that. Show mercy after more than a year of silent punishment. And she most certainly wouldn’t have talked the way this supposed ‘guardian’ had, despite the effort the latter had put in to mimic her appearance. Even her voice had been the same. Uttering words of kindness and concern, something he deemed highly unlikely to ever hear from Mystra’s lips. Not after all he’d done.

With a sigh, Gale placed the plate on the table. Then he dived into the tent, one hand absently running circles on his chest.

*

In a glade just on the other side of the river, Ley reluctantly opened her eyes.

It was probably about time to head back. She didn’t know how long she’d been lying here, but the sun was beginning to set and the others might have already returned by now.

She didn’t want to leave this spot. The air smelled… right, somehow. Clean and crisp. The sand she rested on was soft and still lingering with the warmth of the evening sun. And most importantly, it was quiet. No noise other than the chirping of birds in the background and the sound of water peacefully gurgling over the stones in the middle of the riverbed.

Ley ran a hand down her face.

She wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. It had been such a nice, considerate gesture. One that felt completely natural coming from this guy. Gale had shown her nothing but kindness, right from the start. How was it that something as simple as bringing her something to eat could throw her off that much?

Because you’re essentially a hermit, you numbskull, she chided herself. You’re not used to people being kind. Or people being… people. What did you expect?

Still, this running-away nonsense had to stop at some point. She’d already decided to stick with them, at least for the time being. Provided they’d let her, of course. Besides, Gale didn’t deserve this kind of rudeness. None of them did.

With a sigh, Ley scrambled to her feet, quickly beat the sand from her pant leg and vanished between the trees.

When she finally found her way back, she was greeted by a furiously panting Scratch, tail wagging so hard against her shins she was sure she’d have bruises in the morning. She smirked, grabbed his flanks and ruffled through his fur, then followed him into the camp.

There was no sign of the others, but from the kitchen tent, she heard the clinking of pans and caught the mouthwatering scent of what could only be a roast of some kind.

Gale stood with his back to her, so he didn’t see her coming. He did, however, notice Scratch. Which wasn’t particularly difficult, given how the dog hopped and yapped up at him, his dark, squishy nose coming dangerously close to the spit, which, to Ley’s amusement, was rotated by an incorporeal, and most definitely magical, hand. Gale shooed him away with a chuckle, then turned around as he saw her approaching.

Ley wasn’t sure what she had expected to see on his face. Pity, maybe. Irritation, or perhaps even anger.

Certainly not relief.

With a small flourish, he gestured for her to take a seat. As she followed the invitation, Ley saw he was halfway done peeling his way through an enormous heap of potatoes.

She scrambled to the same spot she’d sat in the morning. Back when she hadn’t trampled all over his forthcoming kindness like the irritable oaf that she was.

“I didn’t mean to be rude, you know,” she tried to explain, uneasily rubbing her neck. Hoping he’d at least partly understand. Somehow. “This is all a bit new to me. Well, not new new, but it’s been so long since-“

Gale squinted and tilted his head, his entire expression so rascally it had her chuckle and forget the rest of the sentence. That was met with a smile, followed by a bunch of words she had no idea what they meant. All she heard was his tone, so warm and soothing it dispersed her worries in an instant.

Still throwing her that impish, quizzical look, he tapped against a plate on the far end of the table. The one she had so boorishly rejected, Ley noticed. Now laden with even more tasty bits that caused her woefully neglected stomach to twist into a knot. Exceedingly slowly, as if afraid he could spook her again, Gale slid it over the table, the smile growing wider and wider as she, instead of taking flight again, pulled it toward her.

There were more words. She only understood the bit at the end. “… better now?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a grin, this time in his language.

*

As soon as the heavenly scent of roasted meat reached his nostrils, Wyll’s feet began moving on their own. Mouth watering, he picked up the pace, temporarily forgetting about wounds and weariness and everything else this nightmare of a day had wrought.

Seconds later, he heard Karlach catch up, easily distinguishable from the others because she happened to be huffing and puffing like a werebear in heat, weighed down by the heap of clanking gear she had tied to her blazing back. It held the majority of today’s loot, including all that objectively unwieldy gith weaponry she so vehemently refused to leave behind. And then, with the same stubbornness, denied every one of his offers to share the burden.

“And you’re really sure you don’t want any help with that?“ He tried again, hoping against hope.

“Pfft.” The tiefling snorted, shot him a wide, tooth baring grin, then wiggled her brows toward where the firelight shone through the trees. “Smell that? That’s-“

“Deer, I know,” Wyll reciprocated the grin. “Believe I heard him say something about honey-thyme marinade this morning, so we’re in for a treat.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Karlach groaned, reeling a bit to the right, which had Wyll take a respectful step backward. “Whoops.” She caught herself, readjusting her cumbersome burden. “Tummy’s doing the thinking right now. And the steering, seems like.”

With that, they passed the camp entrance and stepped out between the cliffs.

“Would you look at those two…” The tiefling chuckled quietly. “Still at it with the learning. Wish tiny Karlach would’ve had that kind of stamina, back in second grade.”

Both of them were sitting at the makeshift table outside the kitchen tent. Their eyes, as was to be expected, were glued to the book, now hovering a few inches above said table and stealing the scene from the sad heap of peeled, but apparently forgotten, potatoes piled up between on top. Ley babbled excitedly in what seemed to be a blend of both languages, furiously wiggling her knife at the book and then, with a joyous gasp, in their direction as she saw them approaching. Gale turned around as well, hailing them cheerfully.

Next to Wyll, Karlach heaved her heavy cargo from her shoulder. It hit the ground with a clatter so deafening he briefly worried about some of it perhaps having bent out of shape.

“Alright then,” he decisively clapped his hands. “How about we get this sorted-“

“How about you let me handle this nonsense and get yourself an ale, pal?” Karlach frowned seriously, then nudged her chin toward the table. “Today was a shitshow, ‘specially for you. I’d wager you could do with a drink.”

That was, without doubt, a very astute assessment.

“And to think…” Wyll huffed amiably. “That I mistook you for a devil at some point.”

The tiefling didn’t answer, just grinned and shooed him off, then went to drag her haul toward the firepit. For further inspection, probably. Somewhere in the background, the accumulated mumbling of the others rang through the ravine. Wyll couldn’t be bothered. He was beyond exhausted, both physically and mentally, and all he wanted was to quiet the riotous host of faded memories rampaging through the back of his mind.

“Is this what happens when we leave you two in camp?” He quipped, giving the twisting roast an approving, one-eyed sideways glance. It was, just as he had hoped, covered in a thick, glistening layer of honey and herbs, several dozen cloves of garlic protruding on all sides. “We’re greeted with a feast upon our return?”

He gave the wizard a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Well, it’s not exactly done yet…” Gale chuckled. Then his eyes widened as he noticed the state of Wyll’s armour, which, in all fairness, he had to magically mend a whopping two days ago. Now it was even more tattered than before and clotted with big splotches of dried githyanki blood. “Good gods, what happened out there?”

“That, my friend…” Wyll groaned quietly as he sat down next to him. “… is a story I’d rather leave for someone else to tell, if it’s all the same to you. Let’s just say it was less than pleasant. Count yourself lucky for being able to stay absent.”

From across the table, Ley gave him a curious, mildly concerned once-over. “Wyll, you hurt?”

His brows flung upward, and he laughed in surprise. “I see the two of you made progress!”

She giggled and raised a hand, thumb and index finger pinched closely together. “Small progress.”

“And there we have another one,” Gale mumbled amusedly.

Next to the table, the book bobbed up and down midair. There was a quiet scratching sound from what Wyll could only assume to be the translation for ‘progress’ being committed to the pages.

Too tired to ponder how she could have possibly understood that, Wyll crossed his arms on the table and leaned in.

“As for your question - no, I didn’t get hurt, fortunately. Alas, not all of us had that kind of luck.”

That was met with a frown and an uneasy glance over his shoulder, where, judging by the collective moaning and complaining, the others were busy relieving themselves from their luggage and settling down for the evening.

To his left, the wizard seemed to have rediscovered the yet-to-be-attended pile of potatoes in front of his nose. Wyll, grateful he could wield something else than his rapier for once, secured himself a comparatively harmless kitchen knife and joined them in their puttering. It didn’t take long until said pile had turned into a neatly carved up heap of wedges that were swiftly filled into pans, salted and shoved into the embers below the still-turning spit.

Gale tried his best to turn his ongoing teaching efforts into something that included Wyll as well, which eventually resulted in both wizard and warlock rambling on about monsters and mythical beings they’d either read about or encountered in their travels. For most of them, the former was able to conjure up an image, which he then showed to Ley, who, following the conversation with rapt attention, gave her two cents by throwing in the appropriate amount of oh’s and ah’s from the side. All the while, the pages of her book kept on rustling and turning.

Once the table was free of potato-related residue, Gale went to fetch them drinks. Which left Ley and him in a bit of an awkward position.

“Fear I’m not much of an illusionist myself,” he apologised. “Shame, we were just about to get to the more interesting ones.”

Ley curiously raised a brow. “More interesting?”

“Hah!” Wyll grinned and pointed a thumb over his shoulder, in the vague direction of the camp’s entrance. “We’ve come face to face with a dragon today. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of encounter. I’m sure Gale can show you one in a moment.”

“No moment.” She flashed him a smile, impatiently shuffling closer. “Tell me.”

“Nasty chunk of a beast, let me tell you. And huge…” He chuckled, emphasising the statement by spreading his arms. “Wings wider than blades of a windmill. Claws like cleavers, and don’t get me started on the teeth…”

“Like… worg?” Ley inquired, eyes beaming with excitement. “Werewolf?”

Wyll laughed heartily.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Usually, dragons are not prone to come with fur. They’re scaled, you see. A bit like…” He scratched the base of his horn, contemplating a suitable comparison. Then, epiphany struck. He snapped a finger and leaned in. “Like the thing that chased you here. That wyrm from the sky.”

“Wyrm is snake?”

“Snake with wings, yes.” He nodded with amusement. “Big wings.”

She cocked her head, indecisively clicking her tongue. One snap of her fingers later, a miniature version of the creature in question floated above the table. Translucent and glimmering, only about as long as Wyll’s forearm and yet so frightfully abominable, his skin broke into goosebumps. Also, he now noticed, not featuring-

“No wings,” Ley pointed out the obvious. “Just snake.”

Behind her, Gale re-emerged from the tent, hands clasping three auspicious-looking tankards. Curiously eying the image over her shoulder, he walked up and placed his cargo on the table.

“A rather sizable snake, that…” He chuckled as he returned to his seat. “Closer to the draconian end of the spectrum if you ask me…”

That was probably the point at which Wyll should have informed him about having already covered the dragon-talk, but now there was this awfully tantalising mug between his fingers. He smiled into his ale for a long moment, then downed about half of it in one go before finally being able to follow the conversation again.

“… not as prone to spitting fire, I hope.”

“No spitting fire,” Ley wiggled a finger toward the beast’s dysmorphic snout. “Eating fire. I think.”

“Oh, Is that why it was after you?” Gale burst out, a tad flustered at the notion.

She gave an impartial little shrug. “I am fire.”

Wyll couldn’t help but chuckle at that mildly endearing slip, to which Ley’s expression became oddly wistful for a moment.

“Seems I wasn’t that far off with my anglerfish-comparison,” he mused, thinking back to their discussion on the way to the wreckage. “Lured in by the light like some starving deep-sea creature. Hopefully that kind of run-in wasn’t a daily occurrence.”

Ley scoffed softly, then shook her head.

“I suspect there aren’t too many options on how to get away from such horrors out there.” Gale scratched his beard. “Other than crash landing, I mean.”

“One.” She lifted a finger. “Kill with…”

Gale and Wyll exchanged a glance of speechless befuddlement. Ley didn’t seem to notice. She frowned and kneaded her fingers in impatience, visibly annoyed with her limited vocabulary.

The wizard leaned in, incredulously raising a brow. “Did you just say… kill?”

“Yes.” Her deadpan reply came without hesitation. A moment later, her eyes fell upon their flabbergasted faces. “Not kill, like…” Snickering, she grabbed one of the kitchen knives, assaulting the air with a few brandishing stabs. “More like…”

With a flick of the wrist, she pulled the already familiar copy of her ship from the book and positioned it next to the monstrosity levitating above the table. It seemed ridiculously small in comparison, spanning only about the length of the beast’s head. Then Ley straightened up, conjuring a mass of slowly churning blackness with a few flourished gestures - a vast cloud of nothingness that outsized both ship and creature by a hundredfold and, as a side effect, snuffed out most of the light around the table.

“That’s the void, then?” Wyll inquired with unbridled excitement. “The space between the stars?”

Ley shook her head. “No. Hole in void.”

A snap of her fingers set the thing into motion, the maelstrom of darkness now lazily rotating around itself. Her ship moved as well, the beast following right on its tail. Both plopped in and out of existence along a zig-zag course leading deeper and deeper into the dark, until, from one moment to the next, an unseen force grappled the monster’s body and mercilessly dragged it into the centre of the vortex, where it crumpled into a formless, ever-shrinking blob. The ship, unscathed and now free of its pursuer, steered in the opposite direction, then vanished together with the maelstrom once Ley snapped her fingers again.

“Fascinating,” Gale whispered in silent awe. “Absolutely-“

“Beautiful,” Shadowheart’s voice came from seemingly out of nowhere. The cleric stepped up to the table, throwing Ley a wide-eyed, almost revering look. “Inspiring, one might say. Taking advantage of the darkness like that.”

The wizard threw her a mildly confused glance from the side. “I was going to say cunning, honestly. I don’t think there’s many who’d think of weaponizing gravity in such a situation.”

Shadowheart’s gaze flicked to the ground for a second, suddenly quite a bit paler than normal.

Wyll, not sure what to make of that and, frankly, not sure he had the mind to care right now, returned his attention to Ley. “How come you didn’t do so with this last one?”

She smiled wryly. “Long day. Long hunt.”

That was something he could unambiguously relate to. Just as much as to the expression of weariness creeping over her face and into her entire posture, shoulders sagging in a way that spoke of boundless exhaustion. And perhaps it was a blessing that Nori and Karlach chose this very moment to barge in, animatedly chattering on about some dream they had last night and in that, effectively ending the conversation at hand.

Their dreams, it turned out, happened to be conspicuously similar to the one Wyll had himself. The reason for which became clear as soon as their merry little get-together moved to their usual venue round the fire and the rest of them joined in, each of them reporting an almost identical encounter with that ominous figure and its less-than-savoury offers of power. The fact that this entity had chosen not to wear the face of his father gave Wyll the cold shakes. That decision would’ve undoubtedly been a logical one, and yet this apparition had been wise enough to go with one not connected to dreaded memories. Which, in his opinion, said plenty about its ability to dig into even the most secret, hidden-away corners of their minds. A feat that had him reminded of certain illithid skill sets and therefore did little to make the whole situation less unsettling.

By the time their sumptuous dinner was served, the discussion had turned toward the events of the day. Wyll buried himself in his ale and his supper, grateful that Nori did the majority of the talking, even though he knew he’d have to chime in at some point. Explain his relation to the cult’s latest victim, not only to Gale but also to those who were otherwise occupied when that connection had been unveiled.

Which he did, if a tad reluctantly, spurred on by the bard’s expectant gaze and encouraging smile. Once more, he relived the tale of his upbringing and banishment in as much detail as the pact would allow.

To his relief, and just like Nori had predicted, none of it was met with any kind of adversity or resentment. Only a handful of questions regarding his father’s role in the city, most of them coming from a very enthusiastic Karlach, and a few snappy remarks from their resident magistrate.

A similarly grand revelation awaited them after dinner was concluded, when, out of the blue, Shadowheart seized the opportunity to fill them in on her own, no less shocking connections within Baldur’s Gate.

Wyll found himself chuckling, about the sheer ridiculousness of their little posse’s composition. The monster hunter turning devil, a hellion with the heart of a saint - despite it being forged in hellfire, - a wizard whose life quite literally depended on the consumption of raw magic, and now a Shar-worshipper with an aptness for easing the suffering of others.

One could only wonder what other secrets were yet to be uncovered.

During all of this, his beast-slayer colleague from outer space, sitting to his left and carefully sipping away at her ale, seemed much less focused than the evening before. The book stayed tucked away under her cloak and every so often she seemed to trail off, dreamily gazing into the night sky, as if on the lookout for the predator that had caused her to fall in the first place.

Suffice it to say, when Astarion approached her from behind and placed a hand on her shoulder, she winced so hard it almost threw her off her seat.

“Careful darling,” the elf snickered quietly. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty little head of yours.”

Wyll frowned, not sure if he liked the uncharacteristically soft tone of his voice. Unlike Nori, who seemed eager to let bygones be bygones, he had not forgotten about the dead Gur in the swamp. Stabbed through the eye mid-sentence with the flimsiest excuse he’d ever heard for cold-blooded murder. That, and the story Gale had told him just the other day. Of their first run-in on the road, where he apparently mistook a knife to the throat for proper ways of introduction.

“See, I’ve just finished some minor repairs to our dear leader’s attire,” the elf cooed and leaned in closer. “And now I was wondering if you’d let me have a look at that awfully tattered… thing you’re wearing.”

One pale finger twirled in the direction of her chest, his voice strung with the usual dose of arrogance.

Ley stared up at him for a second, processing the information with a slightly worried look, then fumbled with one of the holes in her sleeve.

“This?”

“Yes, this.” Astarion grinned and bowed down to her with a small flourish, reaching out with one hand. “If you would, my dear…”

Wyll shot a glance at the wizard, who, sitting on her other side and observing the scene with equal scepticism, conveyed his shared distrust by raising a brow in response.

Ley slowly loosened the belt around her middle and put it to the side, then slid the cloak from her arms, wincing at the touch of Astarions’ hands as he went to help her out of the sleeves. The elf smirked salaciously, eyes running down the bare skin of her neck and shoulders, then gleaming intensely as they fell upon a spot on her back where the fabric appeared to be clotted with blood from the not-yet-healed puncture wound. He hummed approvingly and, with an ambiguous little wink, returned to his spot on the other side of the fire.

“Probably best to keep your wits about you round this one,” Wyll heard Gale mumble. “He’ll want something in return, I’d wager.”

Ley, for inexplicable reasons, just snorted a laugh and then, ever so slightly, shook her head. Across the flames, Wyll saw the elf squint in her direction, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he rifled through his sewing kit.

A short while later she was back to gazing at the stars whilst the rest of them set the course for the coming day, hoping to catch a break from the seemingly endless fighting by heading back to the Grove. To stock up on supplies and see if the druids had finally sorted out their leadership issues.

By the time Wyll had finished his third ale - or perhaps it was the fourth, he couldn’t remember and neither did he care - the spot at his side was suddenly empty. All he heard was a quiet ‘Go ahead, you’re welcome to use it’ from Gale, followed by silent footsteps leaving for the tents.

He turned around, just in time to see Ley, the wizard’s telescope in hand, wander off toward the river and then disappear into the night.

Chapter Text

Flowers

*

It had been way past midnight when Gale finally decided to go after her.

The rest of the camp was fast asleep, Wyll being the only exception - the warlock had volunteered for the first watch, visibly troubled by the events of the day and presumably still too agitated to sleep.

He leaned against the big boulder to the side of the camp, his presence given away only by the demonic glow of a single red eye.

Gale gave him a quick nod as he left his tent. The young man silently nodded back and returned to his brooding. He probably knew what this was about, might even have his own worries regarding their newest addition. But as his duties tied him to his post, he wasn’t able to do anything himself.

It wasn’t hard to determine where she had gone; he recognised the glimmering lights of her illusions all the way from the other side of the river.

How to get there - preferably without landing in the water, was another thing entirely.

Gale was not as agile and surefooted as Astarion or Nori, and balancing over the mossy stone in the middle of the riverbed - or the fallen tree that connected the two sides right behind Lae’zel’s tent - was nothing he could hope to survive unblemished. The second problem was his sight, which did not allow him to see further than a few feet in the dark. Another downside of being human, he'd realised on several occasions during their travels now. 

“Fiat lux,” he whispered. A small mote of light popped into existence.

This would, of course, give him away as soon as he got closer, but then again, he wasn’t trying to sneak up on her. He just wanted to see if things were alright and inquire about why she hadn’t returned to camp yet.

He looked up and down the riverbank, scolding himself for not having re-learned Misty Step yet, a spell that had once felt as natural and easy as breathing - but had been lost to him since his fall from grace. And even if that hadn’t been the case, he would still have been reduced to his current pathetic form. A broken man, a miserable excuse of a wizard. The tadpole had made sure of that.

Gale cursed under his breath and let out a long, frustrated sigh. There was no way he'd get across without getting wet.

Well then, he thought, let’s do it properly at least.

He rolled his pant legs up to his knees, shoved off his boots, picked them up, and carefully waded into the cold water.

When exactly did she disappear? He vaguely remembered her asking for his telescope and the next time he turned around she was simply gone.

The others had dispersed rather quickly this evening after they had talked over their plans for the coming day. Which was no surprise, considering the beating they had taken today. Only Nori and he remained at the fire for a bit longer. When the bard could no longer keep her eyes open and bid him goodnight, he had retreated to his tent as well, pulled out one of the books he was currently reading, leaving the canvas flap open so he could see when Ley returned.

But hours had passed by and she was nowhere to be seen. He wondered why she felt the need to retreat so far away from camp for whatever it was she was doing. Then again, who was he to judge? The sheer mass of information and new impressions must take a toll on her, and it seemed only natural for her to take a step back when she got overwhelmed.

Gale mumbled a quiet incantation to dry his feet and put his boots back on.

The lights shimmering through the forest were closer now, and it seemed to be a lot of them.

No wonder, Gale thought, she has been at it for about three hours now.

He fumbled his way through the dense thicket, over mossy rocks that glittered wet in the moonlight, passed the trees, entered the small clearing - and paused.

For a moment, he stood still and tried to figure out what exactly he was looking at.

Whole clusters of tiny orbs, slightly varying in size and colour, floated through the air. They swirled around each other, formed patterns, and separated again, all of them orchestrated by Ley’s swiftly moving hands.

She sat on the ground with crossed legs, a small blanket beneath her. Leaning forward over her book that levitated a small distance above the ground, she flicked her wrist and caused another swarm of lights to take flight, then turned her attention to the telescope, which was propped up right next to her. One eye at the lens, she held up two fingers and made a few small, elegant gestures, causing the newly formed swarm to form into a complex constellation.

Gale knew that constellation. He had seen it plenty of times - through the very same telescope.

She was building a model of this galaxy, and a meticulously detailed one at that.

He hesitated for a second, unsure if it was wise to disturb her. Then, very slowly, he moved in closer and cleared his throat.

Ley didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, she froze and brought her hands to her face, hastily rubbing over it.

When she turned around, a tired smile graced her lips and her eyes were swollen and red. She had been crying, that much was clear.

“Hello, Gale,” she said, her voice hoarse and very, very quiet.

This felt highly inappropriate. He shouldn’t be here. This was something intimate, something private, and he was clearly intruding. Maybe he should never have co-

She scuttled to the side and tapped on the now free space next to her.

“I can leave, if that is what you want, you don’t have to…” He stammered, his feet not able to decide if they wanted to move forward or backwards. His gaze flicked from Ley to the absurdly complex illusion in the air, then back to the woman sitting beneath it. She looked exhausted, but her smile seemed genuine.

“Come?” She said, more a question than an invitation. He couldn’t possibly turn back from that. Not when she was asking like this, not after the day they just had.

“Certainly,” he smiled, scratching his neck as he closed in and went to sit down on the blanket.

He fumbled around to find a good position, taking a moment to awkwardly sort his knees and feet, then finally turned his attention to her.

She had been observing him with a smirk and slightly squinted eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit exposed. But then, he had just ambushed her in such a vulnerable moment, so maybe this was just evening the scales a bit.

He nodded toward the open book and raised an eyebrow, then smiled back at her.

Ley cleared her throat, then rubbed her hands against each other.

She sighed.

“Your world, your stars,” she said and made a vague gesture toward the swirling mass of lights over their heads.

She looked at him expectantly, and he nodded.

Then she waved the book closer and placed it on her lap so he could peek inside as well. She flicked back to a page further back, one of the first ones, and opened it fully. Her fingers ran over the paper in an almost reverent way.

It showed another galaxy - or at least part of it. With a quick twirl of her fingers, she pulled the lines from the pages and into the air, just like she had done in the morning. Turning several more pages, all containing similar illustrations, she pulled solar system after solar system from the paper and they snapped together in the air, like pieces to a puzzle. Finally, she put the book aside and turned to him.

Gale could not help but marvel at the sight. The detail, the complexity, the confidence with which she moved the illusions and linked them together - it was a work of art.

“My stars,” she said, her voice less than a whisper.

When he turned his face toward her, there was nothing but hopelessness in her eyes. She gave him yet another of those dreadfully exhausted smiles, then looked back up and lifted the small cloud of lights, her stars, further up.

She brought them closer to a dense mass of constellations to her left, pulling both of them down a bit and moving her fingers to bring them to the same size.

Now the proportions matched, but not much else. Their outline and the constellations that formed weirdly elaborate patterns inside - they were completely different from each other.

“Not my stars.”

Ley waved another cluster toward her, this time from her right, held them against each other, and sighed. Nothing matched here, either.

“Not my stars,” she repeated.

She doesn’t know where she is, Gale realised. She jumped that rift, not knowing where it would take her.

Another flick of the wrist, another comparison - another disappointed sigh.

“Not my stars.”

He could see where this was going.

“Ley…?”

“Not my stars,” Her voice sounded like it was about to break.

He couldn’t think of anything else than laying a hand on her shoulder, because what else was there to do but try to snap her out of it? As soon as his fingers touched the fabric of her cloak, he felt her wince under the touch and immediately regretted his decision.

She lowered her arms as he pulled away again, biting her bottom lip and staring at the ground. After a moment of silence, she shooed the sparkling cluster of stars away with a wave of her hand and the blinking lights darted off in every direction, quickly dissolving into nothingness.

Gale feverishly searched his mind for something comforting to say, but for once in his life, he was at a loss for words. Nothing he could think of was even remotely good enough to express what he felt. Not in a way she’d understand, anyway.

Ley cleared her throat and put on a weak smile. 

Then she reached out for the book and shut it close with a decisive ‘smack’, which caused the blinking constellations to either get sucked between the pages or dissolve into nothingness.

“Camp?” She looked at him expectantly.

Without the lights, the clearing suddenly felt dark and very cold, leaving Gale with the weariness from nigh-on a tenday of travelling and almost two nights of sleep deprivation.

“Wise decision.” He nodded and got to his feet.

*

The path from the camp led them through the forest near Moonhaven and they could still hear goblin war drums and drunken howling in the far distance.

“They may be filthy little monsters, but they sure as hell got stamina,” Karlach stated, immediately throwing Nori an apologetic look from above. “Not that their size has anything to do with their character, of course.”

“Bah!” The halfling made a throwaway gesture, grinning widely. “No need to be worried about stuff like that with me, honey. If you manage to offend me somehow - which I seriously doubt - I’ll make sure to let you know. And yes…” She turned on her heels, now walking backwards, her gaze vaguely directed at where the noise was coming from.

“… I hope they keep going for a little while longer,” Nori continued, furrowing her brows as she turned around. “We’re not ready for another incursion, I fear. Not yet.”

Their wounded companions had reluctantly agreed to remain in camp whilst the rest of them made the trip back to the grove for resupply and some long overdue conversations. Nori was glad that this time around, Wyll was one of those staying behind - hopefully keeping an eye on the two women. The last time she left Shadowheart and Lae’zel alone with each other, she had spent the whole day worrying about them going at each other’s throats.

Ley refused to be left behind, even though Shadowheart tried to explain to her that she too, was technically still recovering.

And Nori was pretty sure that the young woman understood most of what she said.

But whether she did or not, she still popped up out of nowhere when they left the camp, one eyebrow raised and her lips curling upward, as if she was trying to make a point.

Maybe she’s bored, Nori thought, or eager to repay her ‘debts’, as Astarion said.

Even though there was no real reason for her to do that. She had no doubts that the girl would be a valuable asset as soon as the initial hurdles had been dealt with. Whether she had joined up with them a few days later or not made no difference at all.

Or, she thought and grinned, maybe there is another reason entirely.

Not only had those two spent the whole previous day with each other… Gale’s eyes had been glued to her since Nori introduced her to the group. And yesterday evening, when they came back from that awful trip to the inn, it had gotten even worse. When Ley had wandered off to gods-knew-where after dinner, the wizard had not left his spot at the fire and probably thought no one would notice the worried looks he threw over his shoulder every other minute. According to Wyll, he had at some point left camp to look for her and when they both returned, it was way past midnight.

And now, somewhere behind their backs, those two were putting their heads together again, babbling nonstop in two languages, snickering and ogling each other like twelve-year-olds.

There was a slight chance she was misreading the situation. She quite didn’t take Gale for the type who’d dare to make a move under these circumstances. Maybe not even under normal ones.

Unless …

“Now, here’s an idea,” Nori said, looking up at Karlach. With a small wave of her hand, she signalled the tiefling to come closer.

Karlach bowed down a little, a wolfish grin on her lips. “Please tell me it involves those two.” She pointed to the back with her thumb. “This is hard to watch, and even harder to listen to.”

“Oh, I know,” Nori chuckled, “and I intend to make it worse.”

“Gods have mercy,” Karlach groaned with half-hearted frustration, “do you really have to?”

Nori lifted her index finger like she was about to give her a lecture. “Well,” she said with a smile, “the sooner our little alien speaks proper common, the better, yes?”

Karlach nodded.

Nori took a deep breath before she continued.

“And as this guy explained to us just this morning…”

Her finger now pointed at Gale, who walked close to Ley, said something in a hushed tone and smiled from one ear to the other. His eyes were fixed on her hand, with which she quickly drew a row of abstract symbols into the air. They fell to the pages of the book she held in the other.

“… There are going to be some difficulties with more abstract words. The kind you can not teach by just pointing at something.”

Again, the tiefling nodded. “If you mean stuff like ‘today’ or ‘tomorrow’, I believe she got that yesterday, just around breakfast. Don’t think we have to worry, she’s a smart cookie.”

Nori leaned towards her and poked an elbow against Karlachs’ thigh, “I know. But why should we leave all the educating to our poor, poor wizard? What a responsibility to carry alone! The man’s brain has been in overdrive for over a day now,” she threw her hands up in a dramatic gesture, “and I’d take any bet that's not going to change until we come to his aid.”

Karlach threw a doubtful glance back at the two humans.

Gale had just conjured up the illusion of a small bird, busily fluttering over his palm as he spoke the corresponding word. Ley took her eyes off the book for a second and looked at the bird, then up to him, a sheepish smile forming on her lips. He smiled back in genuine surprise, gaze completely locked onto her, and almost stumbled into the branches of a nearby tree.

“I dunno, he seems pretty excited about it,” she smirked, “very excited, by the looks of things.”

Nori now wiggled her finger directly at Karlachs’ face. “That may be true, but does not invalidate my argument. I’d say it might even reinforce it.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know that neither one of the two watched where they were going. And hadn’t done so for the last half an hour.

“If I may chime in here,” a voice came from behind.

Astarion caught up and moved in between them. “I do approve of any plan that might dissolve this unholy union.” He let out an impatient sigh. “It is giving me a headache.”

Nori nodded in agreement and turned to him, “Besides, someone might seriously hurt themselves.”

Karlach giggled. “He almost ran into a tree just now.”

“Well,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes, “that would also be a valid argument, I suppose.”

“And why exactly would you want to make it worse?” the tiefling asked, brows raised.

“Well, if we accelerate her, erm… the learning progress,” Nori answered with a grin.

“More like his hopeless attempts at flirting,” the elf added and raised a brow, “That is what you wanted to say, right?”

Nori glanced at him through squinted eyes, “… her progress,”

Karlach snorted out a laugh.

“… then this whole situation will be resolved in a manner of days. And the lot of us, wizards and pretty girls from Wildspace included, can get back to thinking about normal things. Like goblin raids and mad cultists. And that teeny tiny tadpole issue.”

Astarion stared at her and blinked twice in irritation. “So, you want to improve his strategy? You do realise that they're probably not even aware they are flirting?”

She answered that with an even wilder grin than before and he scoffed.

”Are you sure you’re not aiming for the impossible here, darling?”

Nori held out her lute to Karlach.

“Hold this for a moment.”

Hands now free, she turned on her heels and marched towards Gale and Ley, both still mid-conversation and frantically gesticulating over the open book.

“Gale, a moment of your time, please?”, Karlach and Astarion heard her chirp.

The wizard interrupted his explanation of what appeared to be a raven, judging by the illusion that was now hovering over his hand, and smiled at the halfling as she approached.

“What can I do for you, Nori?”

She closed in on them, came to a halt with a little jump, and gave both of them the biggest grin she could muster, chest puffed up, balancing back and forth on her feet.

“Actually, this time it's more about what I can do for you. And our newest addition as well.” She looked up to Ley, whose face was showing both irritation and curiosity. “I just had the idea on how to teach her a few very abstract words that may or may not be useful to know in the near future.”

She pointed her finger at Ley’s nose, receiving an amused chuckle from her. “Very useful when it comes to describing things. Likely able to expedite the learning process.”

Then she hopped to the side of the road, plucked something from the grass, and returned, her hands holding up two tiny flowers. One white, one yellow.

Ley’s mouth formed a tiny ‘Oh’ as she began to understand what was happening. She nodded at Nori’s hands and said, “Flower. Plant,” carefully considering the right pronunciation as she spoke, then blinked at her expectantly.

“That’s right!” Nori nodded fervently, “But this one,” she lifted her hand with the white flower and gave it to her, “This one is a white flower.”

Ley took it and repeated “White flower,” very quietly. Then she looked at the other one, still in Nori’s hand.

Nori gave that one to her as well and said, “This one is a yellow flower.”

“White, yellow,” Ley mumbled and carefully touched the petals. As suspected, she understood immediately. Her gaze flicked back to Nori, eyes slightly squinted and her lips curling upward.

“Ooh, that is an excellent idea, Nori,” Gale exclaimed with a smile on his face as his eyes wandered over the surrounding bushes, already scanning for another specimen.

“I know, I know. Even I can be smart when I want to,” she grinned. With a pull to his sleeve, she regained his attention, pointing him to a bunch of purple blossoms, hanging down from a moss-covered boulder.

“Don’t think I can get that, but I guess you…”

Gale was already reaching for it, carefully plucking one of the flowers off the vine. He eyed it with an approving smirk, then looked back at her. “Thank you. You know, your help is very much apprec-”  

“I’ll leave you to it, then!” With that, she cut him off and turned back to the others.

Karlach tried to suppress a giggle as they picked up the pace again.

As he lowered his head defeatedly, Astarion grasped the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, visibly annoyed.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, dear,” he said, “they are going to become positively insufferable now.”

“I know!” Nori said as Karlach handed her back the lute, “Should probably ask the others to come with us tomorrow. Leave those two to their, erm…”

“Studies?”  

“Exactly. Studies.”

Behind them, Ley already had a colourful assortment of about a dozen flowers in her hands. Her cheeks were flushed the tiniest bit of pink. She smiled as Gale named the colours and handed her yet another one. And another one.

This time she did not bother taking notes.

*

Grove, that was what they had called this place.

Ley had trouble keeping herself from gawking like an overly excited schoolgirl as soon as they entered through the gate. The sounds, the smells… it was a lot to take in - but in the best way possible.

There was an underlying sense of tranquillity hanging in the air, so peaceful and serene it reminded her of her place back on the moon she had called home throughout most of her years in exile - or well, at least of the way it had looked after a few initial months of arduous labour.

It had been neither pretty nor especially comfortable, but it had been hers. A lump of grey rock, barely big enough to pass as an asteroid. At the point of her arrival, the vegetation had been sparse, consisting mostly of grasses and ferns, most of them sporting vibrant hues of red and purple. Over the years, as she visited planet after planet, snatching whatever soil, seeds, and saplings she could get her hands on, she had added to it, transforming the area into a lush, colourful oasis.

Plants and water.

The only currency worth having when trying to build something from scratch out there.

This place, this Grove, offered an abundance of both these things.

They wandered down a light slope that led underneath the overhanging mountain, passing several friendly faces that were seemingly already quite familiar with Nori and the others. Then, they followed a flat staircase until they had the sky over their head again.

And there, her heart stopped for a second.

She could hear water running around the weird stone formation in the middle, smelled the damp moss on the stones, and the blooming vines hanging from the walls. Towering trees framed the glade and lush grass covered the ground, dotted with tiny, colourful flowers.

Ley suddenly felt a pang of guilt and touched the ones she had stuck inside her belt, the ones Gale had given her. Category - colours, he had said and then pressed one after the other into her hand until she didn’t know what to do with them anymore. So now there was a line of flowers decorating her waist. Dead flowers, plucked either from branches or directly from the ground.

She could only hope this wouldn’t get her into trouble.

As it turned out, her worries were unwarranted. These druids, a term that Karlach whispered into her ear as they approached the glade’s centre, seemed to be wearing not only cloth and leather but also a wild assortment of leaves and branches that protruded from shoulders and chest pieces.

Ley noted there was a surprising number of animals in this place, all of them seemingly peacefully coexisting with the druids - and some of them were enormous. Mountains of fur, big claws, and heads twice as massive as hers when she wore her other form, their jaws probably able to crush a human skull to crumbs if they wanted. 

No one seemed to be particularly bothered by that.

She saw Nori approach one of them, waving and cheerfully greeting both the beast and the two druids following it, as they came through a huge stone door, presumably leading to some sort of underground cavern.

“So,” Karlach leaned in closer and grinned, “this is a bear, you know that one, right?”

Ley shook her head and was about to reach for her book, when the thing suddenly, with a flash of bright light and a crackling sound, changed into a tall, bulky - and undoubtedly humanoid figure.

She could not keep the excited yelp from escaping her throat and behind her, Astarion started snickering.

“And now…” Karlach winked at her with raised eyebrows, the grin now almost splitting her face in two. “Now it’s a Halsin!”

She stared at the huge man, now exchanging pleasantries with Nori and Gale, then pouted her lips and nodded, fished the book out from under her cloak, smirking at Karlach whilst she added two new words to the list.

When Nori looked back up, she gestured for her to come closer.

She could not quite tell what they were talking about as she approached them, but she heard her name somewhere in there, so it seemed clear she was being introduced. The big druid smiled at her and lifted a hand to his chest.

“Halsin,” he said with a deep and rumbling voice, one that exuded a jovial kind of calmness she immediately felt soothed by, even though the fact that he was more than two heads taller made her a little nervous.

“Ley,” she introduced herself.

*

Gale watched the druid place a hand on her shoulder, talking to her with a soft voice as he led her away to a nearby stone bench. She listened with wide-open eyes, and he noted that in this case, she hadn't flinched under the touch.

“… of course, as long as the goblins remain a threat, we can move neither forward nor backwards, but at least the tension within this place has been relieved somewhat,” he heard Zevlor say and turned back around to see him throw a comradely glance at Rath. And then a much colder one at the woman behind him.

“There will be no further hostilities toward the refugees, I assure you,” Rath added, respectfully nodding at the old Hellrider.

“I’m very, very glad to hear that,” Nori stated with a relieved sigh.

The tiefling and the druid seemed to get along splendidly, and Gale wondered if those two - had they been given a chance to meet earlier - might not have been able to diffuse the situation on their own. There was a second part to this problem, however. A much more pressing one. One they were running out of time to deal with.

“Nori, I'm not sure we can afford another delay,” he said to the bard and met her gaze. “Who knows how long it might take them to sober up and send out the next raid? It could happen tomorrow, for all we know.” 

“I'm aware, Gale, I…” The halfling ran a hand over her face, tired eyes blinking up at him. “I just wish we had at least one more day…”

Considering that three of their companions were wounded - even though Shadowheart might have been able to at least partially resolve that matter in their absence - they were not in the best position to launch a full-on assault.

“What if…” Nori continued. “What if we wait until tomorrow to make that decision? Perhaps we can send someone out in the morning? To scout ahead, you know... assess the situation and then we take it from there.”

“I suppose that might be a sufficient compromise,” he nodded reluctantly.

If it were up to him, they would raze that place to the ground come first light, but then it wasn’t his decision to make. Nori’s instincts had proven to be right most of the time and at this point, he trusted them implicitly.

“Alright then!” She exclaimed and looked over to Karlach and Astarion, who stood near the foot of the giant stone arch that spanned over the grove’s entrance.

“Time to find a certain blacksmith.” She threw a glance at Halsin and Ley, then back at Gale. “Meet you two there?”

“Of course, go ahead.” He watched her leave, then turned around and approached the stone bench.

The druid had his eyes closed, one hand raised flat against Ley's lower chest, fingers hovering less than an inch from where the debris had pierced through her ribs. He was mumbling an incantation, golden light emanating from his fingertips. Gale didn’t want to interfere, seeing as the spell seemed to be doing what it was supposed to. Ley’s head dangled forward a bit, the expression on her face one of pure bliss.

Gale leaned against the stone wall and crossed his arms, patiently watching and waiting.

It took a few moments until both of them opened their eyes again.

Halsin noticed him first, smiling and waving him closer. Ley brought a hand to where the wound had been, nudging against the fabric of her cloak, searching for spots that may still be sensitive to touch. Judging by the look on her face, there were none to be found.

“That proved surprisingly difficult,” the druid stated, both to her and to Gale.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, considering the size of what caused this,” Gale remarked, his eyes wandering over Ley’s features. 

Of course, he had been aware that this injury had remained an issue, despite her inherently smooth way of moving and seemingly unbothered, cheerful attitude.

Now that it was gone, he realised just how much effort it must have been to keep up a straight face. She held herself in an entirely different manner; all tension gone from her shoulders, her abdomen no longer cramped up to keep pressure off the wound. Not to mention the glow in her eyes, now more prominent than ever.

Halsin watched his patient as she straightened up and faced him with a beaming smile. Then he turned to Gale once more. “It was already closing from within - Am I right to assume there is a healer amongst your group?” 

“Indeed, there is, fortunately. A cleric, and a rather skilled one at that. I believe you've met her already.” Gale replied, “And she did attend to her wounds, but not this one in particular, if I recall correctly. Her talents have been required quite frequently over the last few days, meaning her reserves were rather drained. Which leads me to believe this betterment might be due to other causes.”

Halsin threw him an inquiring look, then immediately glanced back at Ley, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "Could these other causes be related to what you yourself bring to the table?"

She responded with a chuckle and a quirked brow, gaze briefly darting to the ground. Gale wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that.

The druid gave her an inquiring smile, leaning forward so she'd look into his face once more. "I'd say there's a little more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?"

Ley blushed, her features suddenly strained by uneasy tension.

"Oh, no need to trouble yourself," The elf laughed, briefly reaching for her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Although I'd very much like to shed some light on the matter, once you've acquired the means to communicate. Should you be willing, of course."

“Thank you, Halsin,” she said quietly, looking at the elf in such a warm, appreciative way that it made Gale’s insides twist with….

Well, with what? He was certainly too old for petty jealousy, especially in a situation like this one. She had just been healed, for heaven’s sake. It was very unlike him to get this riled up just because a student he was fond of turned their attention to someone else.

“No need to thank me, child.” The elf replied with a smile. “And once you're ready for it, I would like to discuss those other abilities of yours. Maybe there is a druid hidden in you somewhere.”

She chuckled and got up from the bench. Gale noticed a handful of flowers, now dry and limp, flutter from her belt and to the ground.

As they made their way up the stairs, he could swear he felt the elf’s gaze on the back of his head.

Chapter Text

Hunger

*

The bear was almost tall enough to touch the ceiling. And it would have been impressive, had it not been stuffed, wrapped in spiderwebs and smelled like rotting mothballs.

Ley sneezed and frowned up at its dust-covered snout.

Why anyone would put the carcass of such an imposing creature up for display - in their basement of all places - was beyond her. A young one too, Gale had said. Then again, the people who used to inhabit this place seemed to be quite fond of decorating their houses with all kinds of morbid frippery. Heads seemed to be all the rage. Preferably with antlers or otherwise impressive adornments.

It was a laboratory they had stumbled into, or so it would seem. Long abandoned by its likely prematurely deceased owner. A so-called ‘necromancer’. Whatever that was supposed to be. All she knew was that this individual had exceptionally poor taste in matters of home decoration.

Then again, perhaps she wasn’t the one to judge folks for their furnishing habits.

Astarion and Nori leaned over the table in the middle of the room, studying pieces of paper so old they were practically crumbling away under their hands.

Probably research papers, Ley thought, and let her eyes wander over the various tools and instruments, then the brittle skeleton that lay on its surface. The nasty kind of research.

They were talking in hushed tones, the halfling carefully collecting the pages, whilst the elf inspected some dusty, unopened bottles.

By the opposite wall, Gale and Shadowheart stood in front of an iron gate, big and heavy and ancient-looking. The former had his eyes fixed on something behind the bars, deep in thought, and rubbing a hand against his chest.

Ley turned back around, continuing to rummage through the crates on the floor.

This was all she could do for them. Scamming through every chest and barrel, looting everything that looked even remotely useful, whether that would be food, weaponry, or tools. Of course, there were certain items she simply didn’t know what to do with. All those books, for example. They probably contained a wealth of knowledge, but how would she know what was worth taking and what wasn’t?

This language barrier was testing her patience.

She understood most of what they said by now, either from context or because her learning sessions with Gale had provided her with the respective translation. But when she tried to talk herself, it took forever to find the words she was looking for. Like some old librarian, stumbling through endless rows of bookshelves, searching for hours on end to come up with one tiny scroll.

It was maddening.

Not only because her urge to engage in proper conversation became more pressing by the hour, now that her initial reservation and anxiety had somewhat subsided, but also because she detested the way they looked at her. In their eyes, she must seem like some doe-eyed little girl, either too dumb or too shy to open her mouth and just speak up. Which would be perfectly understandable, thinking back to the last two days in particular.

She knew it wouldn’t be this way forever. But the thought of several more weeks of being reduced to this mute, incompetent existence was more than she could bear.

There was a potential shortcut, however.

One she had thought about all day, pondering the consequences.

It would be a brutal thing to do. Downright evil, some might say. And terrifying to watch. She’d need a suitable candidate. Preferably one they wanted dead. And then she’d simply have to prey they wouldn’t kick her out afterwards.

Could she even pull it off again - so many years later?

She opened the next crate. There was arguing behind her back, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she absently let her fingers wander over scrolls and shreds of half-rotten parchment.

It had probably been what tipped the scales that one fateful day back on Aman. Sure, she would have been forced to leave at some point regardless, but it might have been possible to delay the inevitable for a few more weeks. Had she not snapped. Had she not given in to the Thing’s whispered promise and handed over the reigns.

Wrong. A quiet voice protested from the back of her mind. Had they not taken them. That one’s not on you.

At that point, she had struggled to wrap her head around the consequences of her accident.

One part of that struggle was, obviously, dealing with the fact that some fiery, ill-tempered and incredibly volatile entity had weaselled its way inside her body and seemed rather reluctant to vacate the premises it so rudely laid claim to. The random surges and their various side effects were another part, but most of all she had trouble adjusting to how people’s behaviour had changed overnight. All of the sudden, unwanted attention, myriads of nonsensical requests, outrageous demands…

This had been what led her to withdraw from the public eye. Sequester herself in her workshop, only sneaking out for the occasional late-night visit to her mother and brother. But that had done little to avoid public attention. The council had already installed guards at the main gate of Mechanist Hall, but ensuring her family’s safety had not yet been on the menu. Which meant that their sudden exposure hit them completely unprepared. Within hours, hordes of journalists and shady politicians laid siege to their doorsteps, just as they already did to her place - the latter, of course, situated on Tinker’s Guild grounds, and therefore comparatively safe from their ceaseless assaults.

And then this man, this brute, had strolled into the main hall as though it was the most normal thing in the world. He had even made an appointment. With her. Not the council. In hindsight, Ley realised that alone should’ve made her suspicious.

He seemed almost bored, like a town official passing by for some mandatory inspection. They sat down in the mess hall, the other tables mostly empty, safe for a few tired-looking early-shift workers. There had been smalltalk. A bit of semi-cordial banter. And then he pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it over with a polite, indifferent smile.

It had taken her a while to understand what it said. She read it a second time, just to be sure. She looked up and asked if this was a joke.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t even have the nerve to look at her. Maybe it was the way he picked his fingernails clean under the table, only half paying attention. Completely disinterested. Or maybe she could already see the truth in his eyes before he opened his mouth to answer.

Ley remembered her feet moving on their own, her body lunging over the table. Her hands seizing his head. There was this expression of genuine surprise on his face that, under different circumstances, would have been almost comical. The Thing, startled by her panic, raced to the forefront of her mind and pushed her aside. She could’ve resisted. She could’ve denied it control. But she hadn’t. She had allowed it to pass.

And then everything went white.

Her recollection of the following events was a blurry mess of shredded memories, one more horrifying than the other.

There were answers in his mind, so she plucked them from it.

The answers were tied to faces. Faces of people he knew, people that knew more. People she’d have to find if she wanted to find them.

She took those faces as well.

There had been a sound in the background. A screech, as if someone was screaming his lungs out. It might have been one of the workers. It might have been him or even herself. Ley couldn’t hear much besides white noise and her frenzied, thrumming heartbeat. There had been a smell. The smell of burnt flesh. And a disgusting tingle against her fingertips; the man’s skin melting under her touch. She vaguely remembered smoke rising from where his eyes had once been.

When she let go, he dropped like a dead fish.

Through the mist at the edge of her vision, her gaze followed where the Thing told her to look. Not with her eyes, but some other sense she didn’t know she had until then. She recognised one of the faces and jumped. Blindly. And much further than ever before.

The second one was right where she landed. It knew about another, and that one knew even more. Jumping freely through the districts, unhampered by walls or other obstructions, she left smoking corpse after smoking corpse until finally, one knew about their location, a warehouse, and there-

A sharp screeching sound ripped Ley out of her daydream. She whirled around.

The metal gate swung open.

Astarion knelt in front of it, a smug grin on his face. Ley saw him hold out a hand as the others approached, preventing them from entering right away.

“More traps,” he said. “This one didn’t like visitors.”

Ley stepped up to them, a bunch of random books under her arm, curious what had caught Gale’s attention earlier. He stood close to them, his gaze firmly fixed on whatever lay on the altar beyond the gate.

It was another book. A massive tome with a leathery-looking cover. And an utterly disgusting aura.

Nori poked her nose over Astarion’s shoulder.

“Think I have an idea for that one,” she mumbled and turned on her heels, nearly bumping into Ley, who immediately took a step back and smiled apologetically. The halfling grinned her usual cheerful grin as she pointed at the books.

“Might I borrow one of these, honey?”

Ley handed her the one from the top, one brow lifted at the others still in her arms. Inquiring if she’d perhaps like another.

“This one will do nicely, thanks a bunch,” Nori threw her a wink and hopped excitedly back towards the altar. In one swift motion, she swapped the books and returned with the tome.

Ley took a careful step closer.

It had a face, she noticed and bared her teeth in disgust.

Gale didn’t seem to be bothered. He took the ugly thing and turned around without so much as a word. Leaning against the table in the middle of the room, completely mesmerised by the amethysts that seemed to symbolise its eyes. He tried to open the cover. The book didn’t agree with his plans. After a few futile attempts, a slightly disappointed smirk unfurled on his features.

“Locked tight,” he explained. “There must be a key around here somewhere.”

“Keep it,” Nori replied, stuffing the supplies Ley handed to her in her pack. “You’re the most qualified to deal with it anyway.” Gale’s smirk turned into a complacent grin as he stashed the book in his satchel.

“Really?” Astarion hissed. “The man’s ego is big enough as it is and besides - he’ll probably just… eat it. Eventually.”

Ley blinked in profound irritation.

“Yes, really.” The halfling smiled at him patiently. “We’ve found enough other bits for him to munch on if needed. I believe this particular one is safe.”

The others were already waiting for them when they finally departed the cellar and stepped into the bright, dazzling sunlight.

“Found something!” Karlach yelled and waved them toward the door that led to the smith’s basement. She grinned from ear to ear.

“Something good?” Nori grinned back as she approached, the others following close behind.

“You have no idea, lady!” The tiefling hunkered down to be at eye-level with the halfling. Her voice turned into a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s… a hole… in the wall.”

“Ooh, those are my favourite,” Nori clapped her hands excitedly and jumped forward, greeted by a yawning Wyll and the ever-stoic Lae’zel.

They entered the building, Karlach and the excited halfling in front, followed by Wyll, Gale, Ley, and Shadowheart. Lae’zel entered last and closed the door behind them.

Ley smelled the stale air, absently listening to the others talk. Something about a blueprint and a forge. And some bark.

The bark from the ship? She thought to herself. No, that wouldn’t make any sense.

Something in here made her skin crawl. A faint scent. One that made her think of webs, cold stones, and dripping water. And skittering, scuttling legs. Far too many legs.

Ahead of her, Gale noticed her slowing down and came to a halt, adjusting his pace to hers once she caught up.

“Is something the matter?”

Ley looked back at him, suddenly noting that something about him seemed a little off today. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing, his skin was pale, and for some reason glinting with a thin film of sweat. They had barely done any fighting, the only exception being a handful of frail, brittle skeletons in that necromancer’s lair. That had been more than an hour ago, by her estimations.

“No,” she responded with a frown, then decided otherwise. “Yes. Spiders.”

She tipped a finger against her nose. Gale chuckled.

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a problem with those,” he quipped teasingly. “I find it highly improbable you’d be troubled by creatures just because they happen to come with a few additional legs.”

Ley scoffed, then shook her head. Then threw a glance forward, where Nori and Karlach now descended a narrow staircase that led into a larger room, the cold embers of a forge collecting dust on one side, crates upon crates piled up against the other.

The bard stuck her head through a sizable crack in the wall.

“Looks funny,” the halfling stated, her voice echoing from the bricks and the cavern behind the opening. “Smells funny, too.”

She stood there for another moment, then shrugged and climbed through. Karlach and Wyll followed suit without hesitation, then Gale and Astarion.

Ley noticed that Lae’zel eyed her from the side.

“Spiders?” The gith asked in a low voice, raising a brow.

“Spiders,” Ley nodded.

Lae’zel reached for a small pouch at her belt and produced two small flasks, filled with green liquid. She opened one, drank its contents and passed the other to Ley. Then, without another word, proceeded to follow the others through the gap.

*

“Oh god, it hurts!” Astarion howled in the most dramatic of fashions.

They were used to the elf demanding to be healed as soon as he got so much as a scratch, but this time, his pain seemed to be genuine.

Nori set down her pack, trying her best to ignore the giant spider corpse that lay belly-up right next to her, legs still twitching, the surrounding ground all covered in goo.

“Think I’ve got something for you, let me see…”

The elf groaned, his face a writhing mask of agony. The bite wound was close to his heart, which made her a bit nervous. What didn’t help either, was that one of those disgusting things they had fought when they came down here - ettercaps, Gale had called them - had got to him as well. Nori saw patches of dried blood on his sleeve and his chest and hastily rummaged through her bag, quickly throwing a glance over her shoulder to see if the cleric was somewhere within reach. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be seen.

Soft paws landed to her right, followed by claws clicking on stone. It took but a moment for Ley to change back.

“Come here,” she said quietly and knelt next to the elf.

Astarion tried to put on a charming smirk, which immediately warped into a grimace of despair. “Darling, I do appreciate you rushing to my rescue, but I’m not sure what you plan to - ow!“

He winced as Ley reached for his sleeve.

Nori grinned and shook her head at that decidedly ill-timed display of overblown coquetry. Then turned back to resume her pack-scrounging efforts.

“Had I known it would be this easy to get your hands on me,” the elf chuckled shakily. “I might have let that boar run me over.”

“Boar?” Nori asked, not looking up. “What boar?”

“Erm…” Ley set to answer.

“Never mind,” Astarion giggled, then burst into coughing.

Nori sighed with frustration and shoved her other hand into the pack. Expectantly raised a brow when she got hold of a small pouch, several dozen flasks clinking within. That joy didn’t last long. Most of those were empty. And yes, maybe the others were right. Perhaps she did have a bit of a hoarding problem, but then what if they were to run out of those things? They played a kind of central role if one were to brew stuff themselves - which she happened to have a bit of experience with, thank you very much - and they sure didn’t grow on-

“What’s the matter with him?”

Nori winced and turned her head. Gale and Shadowheart had stepped up to her left. She hadn’t heard them approach until the wizard started to speak.

“I’m not sure, but I guess we’re talking poison,” the halfling replied, hastily sorting through vials of various sizes. “The spiders got him, those etterthings got him, I guess this is just not his day…”

“An ettercap got him?”

Nori watched as Gale hurried forward and hunkered down next to the elf. Carefully nudged Ley’s hand to the side and pulled back the quilled hem of Astarion’s shirt. The skin below was almost black, crawling with hundreds of tiny, many-legged… things.

Nori shuddered with disgust. Ley gasped and scuttled backwards.

“What do you think you’re doing, wizard?” The elf snarled indignantly, his gaze flicking to Gale’s hand. Then to the scuttling infestation on his chest. His eyes widened with horror.

“Remember that first day, when you held a knife to Nori’s throat and I said I would incinerate you?” Gale asked, brows furrowed. “I believe it is time.”

“What is he talking about?” Astarion’s voice was down to a whisper. He threw Shadowheart a pleading glance from below.

“He’s right. They need to be burned off,” Shadowheart confirmed from behind, her tone unusually compassionate. “There’s no way around it.”

Nori squinted up at her. The cleric looked about as tired as she felt herself.

“You can’t fix that with a spell?”

“I don’t have much left in me,” Shadowheart replied with a weak, rueful smile. “And no, I could only heal the symptoms, not the sickness. It has to be fire.”

“But you can… sculpt spells, can you not?” Astarion blurted out hastily, blinking at the wizard in helpless despair. “Evocation magic? Keep your dear, esteemed friends from burning with the rabble?”

Gale smiled patiently. “Astarion…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly forgotten how to go about that,” the elf groaned with a miserable smirk. “Just because it’s me on the ground and not-“

“Astarion, they’re in the wound.”

Nori threw a glimpse at his half-bare chest. There was an awful lot of red. And a lot of black scuttling. Ley averted her eyes. Shadowheart did not. Nori sighed and gritted her teeth. Then nodded at Gale.

A moment later, the elf’s screams echoed through the cave.

*

“You did WHAT?!”

Ley could hear the wrath in Shadowheart’s voice all the way from the riverside.

Wyll looked up from his hands, fingers continuing to tie the knot they’d been busy with. They exchanged an alarmed glance. He had offered to help with her tent, the one they acquired for her the previous day. It had been close to midnight when they returned and Ley was too tired to bother, simply shifting shape and curling up on the rock instead, as she had done all the other nights before.

Loud, agitated voices came from the far side of the camp, possibly from Nori’s tent. There was a sound of linen being torn apart and hectic footsteps rushing in the same direction.

Ley and Wyll shared one more worried look. Then they jumped to their feet and started running.

Shadowheart knelt in front of the halfling’s tent, half-crouched inside, her back turned towards them. To her left, Lae’zel tore at the fabric, frantically trying to widen the opening.

Gale and Karlach stood on the sidelines, both staring at the scene with utter disbelief. The wizard looked their way, one hand nervously combing his beard.

“What happ-“ Wyll set to ask, immediately interrupted by another outburst from the cleric.

“You seriously thought this was a good idea?! The evening before we take on the temple?!”

It was only then Ley noticed the slender silhouette of Astarion, hunched over on the ground just a few feet away, one hand frantically clawing at his hair, his face a mask of desperation and guilt.

“She gave me permission, I swear,” his voice was uncommonly quiet, lacking all its usual sass. “I needed it. I was so weak, wasn’t able to hun-“

“SHE’S A HALFLING YOU DIMWIT!” The cleric cut him off, gritting her teeth as she threw him a furious glance, her stare shutting him down in an instant. “HOW MUCH BLOOD DID YOU THINK SHE HAS?”

Gale wandered over, trying his best to put on a smile.

“So…” He took a deep breath and squinted at Wyll. “It appears we have a vampire in our midst.”

Wyll took a moment to process the information, then snorted a laugh. He sighed, pinched the back of his nose with two fingers, and closed his eyes in defeat.

“Of course we do.”

As Ley stepped closer, their voices faded into the background. Lae’zel had widened the entrance enough she could peer into the dark tent interior, around Shadowheart’s back and her swiftly moving hands. Nori lay spread out on her bedroll. Motionless and pale as a ghost. Two big puncture wounds graced the side of her neck.

Ley jolted forward and fell to her knees next to the cleric, the latter murmuring incantation after incantation, her fingers glowing as they trembled over the halfling’s neck. Without a word, Ley reached out as well, fully aware she didn’t have the means to heal anyone but herself. But she had to know. Had to see if there was a pulse, at least.

She found one. But it was dreadfully weak.

Shadowheart grabbed her shoulders and pulled her aside. “Look, I know you’d like to help, but right now, I need space. And you need to save your strength for tomorrow, alright?”

Ley withdrew reluctantly, slowly rising to her feet and biting her lip as she looked at Astarion, whose empty stare followed the cleric’s every move.

I knew. And I could have helped. Had I only been able to talk.

She swallowed hard. Tried to fight back her bitter frustration as her eyes roamed the camp.

Over there were Karlach and Wyll, talking with each other in hushed tones. Lae’zel had taken position next to Nori’s tent. Suspiciously eying each of Shadowheart’s moves, but not daring to interrupt her ministrations.

One was missing. Ley frowned with concern.

*

Gale sat down on the flat rock and drew a deep, heaving breath.

With one hand, he rubbed over the spot on his chest where the pain had increased to an excruciating degree. His head was pounding, and he noticed he had begun sweating from every pore of his body.

The timing was decidedly inconvenient.

Not only was it far too early for the Orb to be hungry again, but the day had just been such a messy storm of events that he hadn’t brought it over himself to ask for yet another donation. Which now was no longer an option, with Nori temporarily out of the picture. Not that he doubted Shadowheart’s capability to bring the blood loss under control. She simply had to. Otherwise, their plans and preparations for the temple assault would be rendered moot. Then again, he had no concept of how much the bard had been drained. How long a halfling body might take to restore what was lost. He wanted to go back. See if there was anything left to be done, but first…

First, he had to get a grip on this situation. Somehow silence it, at least for the night. He’d ask for help in the morning when tempers had cooled down a little.

A faint rustling sound ripped Gale from his ruminations.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the trees. A large, silver-furred body leapt from a low-hanging branch and landed on the grass without so much as a sound.

When Ley approached, Gale tried to pull up something that hopefully passed for a smile. Which faded a little as she shifted back, the sounds of bones breaking and flesh changing shape rippling unpleasantly through the night. She didn’t wear her cloak, just that raggedy camisole and her no less worn-out leggings, which would indicate she left the camp in a hurry. Alarmed by his sudden departure, no doubt - judging by her fiercely knotting brows. And, of course, the first place she’d look was the glade where they had sat just two nights prior.

Her eyes, back to their normal green, observed him cautiously. After a moment, the familiar, shy smile reappeared on her face.

“I’m afraid you caught me at an inopportune time,” Gale chuckled weakly, somewhat hoping he might convince her to turn back and leave him to his misery. “Is something the matter? Any new, horrific developments?”

Ley shook her head as she came closer.

“No,” she said. “You. Gone.”

The smile turned into a frown once more when she sat down at his side. Her eyes fixed on the hand he still pressed to his chest, the Orb’s mark faintly glowing through his tunic. Gale hummed and let it sink to his lap, trying to maintain his composure as best he could.

“I’ll be back in a moment, no need to be alar-“

“Gale,” she interrupted him, her gaze not leaving his chest for a second. “You hurt.”

Not a question, but a statement.

He turned to face her directly and opened his mouth to reply. And then paused when he caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were an eerie sight, glistening with that bright white spark, glaring intensely at where the Orb stirred under his skin. As though she was able to peer right through, straight into that swirling, black mass nestled between his ribs.

“It is a… condition I have to live with,” he tried to explain, unsure what to make of her expression. And the way her eyes seemed to glaze over. Something was off, and he wasn’t sure what. “Alas, for the moment, I just have to live with the symptoms. Until treatment is within reach.”

“Treatment?” Her voice was quiet and a little detached. As if only part of her was present.

Gale scoured his mind for a way to describe his affliction without revealing too much. He set to answer, but the look on her face shut him down in an instant.

“Black hole,” Ley whispered, mesmerised by the gleaming outline of the Orb, the white-hot glimmer in her eyes now much more intense than it had been a moment ago. One of her hands twitched in her lap and rose to reach for him.

“What was that…?” He stared at her in disbelief.

She is able to see it, he thought. She must be. 

His breathing quickened as she leaned in, now dangerously close to touching it. And then, to his horror, he felt the Orb respond. Twisting and turning under his skin, like a bear slowly waking from hibernation.

Gale’s heart started racing.

“Ley, whatever you think you’re doing, I’m not certain it’s a wise idea…”

She swallowed. Panic flared up in her eyes, but she wouldn’t pull away. Or perhaps she couldn’t.

“It’s hungry,” she whispered hoarsely.

An odd sensation began to build in his chest, different from the familiar, mind-numbing pain, but yet somehow related to it. He felt the Orb move, urging against his flesh from within, reaching outward, reaching for…

It tried to reach for her.

Something inside him snapped as understanding hit. He wanted to pull back, only to realise he was frozen in place, his limbs no longer abiding by his commands. There were other sounds now, not merely the heartbeat hammering in his ears and Ley’s unsteady, hitched breathing, but something else. Like a whisper, scratching against the back of his mind. Quiet at first, growing louder and louder with every inch of her hand closing in.

“Ley?”, he barely recognised his voice, choked and desperate as it was.

In a bout of desperation, Gale mustered his remaining strength to steer against the merciless pull, and for a moment Ley’s eyes flicked toward him - instantly snapping back as the Orb’s whispers swelled to a murmuring choir, luring her in like a siren would with its prey.

The connection was nearly palpable. He could feel the shadowy tendrils twirling in and out from his ribs, grasping for her essence like the greedy, ravenous beast that it was. On the other end, a bright, shimmering light shone faintly from her eyes and her mouth, gleaming through the confines of her chest.

As much as he tried to fight back, the Orb broke his resistance with ease. It pulled her in with a yank, her face now so close Gale could feel their breath mix. His vision started to tunnel. He stared at her fingers, now less than an inch from the fabric. Ley’s skin broke into goosebumps, her arm trembling with tension. She gritted her teeth and then, with visible effort, ripped her gaze away to look into his face.

"Gale," she said, a hint of defiance shaking her voice. "I can help. Let me help."

He stared at her. Speechless. The world around fell quiet. As if time itself had come to a halt to acknowledge the absurdity of this request.

“Help…?” Gale chuckled bitterly. "How did you plan to go about that?"

Ley lifted both hands to his chest. Carefully, as if not to spook some shy critter. Her eyes burned into his, both anxious and inquiring. His mind started racing as he saw her scrambling for words.

"Feed it," she whispered with a smile.

Just two words, and yet, it took him a moment to grasp their meaning.

"What…” Gale shook his head in irritation. Appalled by the notion, but well aware this may be the only way to prevent something much worse from happening. “What does that entail? What am I to do?”

Ley’s brows curved into an apologetic frown. She looked at her fingers, now finding purchase right above where the Orb thrummed under his skin.

Gale saw a flicker burst from her eyes as she fixed her gaze on his again. The very same flicker he’d seen before she blinded them way back at the wreckage. He heard Ley's voice, not with his ears but from somewhere within, brushing against his mind like a gentle, flowing current.

Let me in.

The words echoed in his head.

He wasn’t even surprised.

If she meant to somehow enter his mind, however, he’d have to lower all barriers that blocked such intrusions, which was not a pleasant thought after all the tadpole and the dream visitor had put them through.

Then again, she had asked for permission. And was waiting for an invitation. An act of trust.

Gale inhaled sharply.

"Go ahead."

He wasn’t sure what to expect, bracing for pain and the inevitable loss of control.

The sensation that followed was neither intrusive nor did it feel forced. A ghostly touch, not unpleasant but cautious and tender instead. A fleeting thought seeking entrance. When it was granted, it was as if she’d opened a door, allowing parts of him in, and parts of her to flow the other way.

He saw what she saw. Felt what she felt. And knew it was the same way for her.

With a soft sigh, her breath brushing against the skin of his neck, Ley sunk into the gentle, if slightly anxious embrace of Gale's mind and his arms. And a moment later, into the cold, dark nothingness that was the Orb. Nothing more than a firefly trying to cross the endless void. They both felt it twisting and throbbing in there. As if it were laughing.

You don’t scare me, she thought, somewhat amusedly.

Her heat, her magic, bubbled up from her core, rushed through her veins, and washed over their minds. Flooded his chest like warm, liquid sunlight, poured into the Orb’s gaping maw and filled it up completely, leaving it choking and gasping.

Gale tensed under her touch, both physically and mentally.

No need to be afraid, Ley thought, intentionally loud, as if to ensure the words would be able to reach him. I’m afraid it won't hold for long. This is all I can do.

Gale’s heart skipped a beat. His lips curled upward. Not only was this sensation incredibly comforting and the pain receding quickly, but through this strange, twisted connection and without the limitations of spoken language, they’d finally be able to talk. Their thoughts mingled as freely as words in a conversation. But in a much more intimate way. He felt her voice in his head, her words echoing through him. Was this what he had suspected from the very beginning - some intuitive form of mind reading that allowed her to pick up information seemingly without context?

Could she hear what went through his head?

Ley sighed with exhaustion. Her head sunk against his shoulder. She chuckled at his last thought, the steady flow of magic continuing to suffocate the Orb.

Yes, I can hear you, she responded. If you want me to, that is. I won’t pry.

After a moment, she added another thought.

If I did, you ’d know.

He suddenly realised just how close they were. That his hand had found its way around her side and now lay splayed between her shoulder blades. That her forehead rested in the crook of his neck. Under normal circumstances, he’d consider this highly inappropriate, but right now, feeling her heartbeat thrum against his chest, slowly synchronising with his own, was nothing if not soothing.

Embarrassment rolled over him at the notion of how such a thought might sound to her, so he quickly tried to find something else to focus on. A question came to mind.

What happens, he thought, hoping this way of communication to be a two-way street, once you let go again?

Ley looked up.

Nothing, I hope. I believe this to be enough to put your … whatever it is you have there to sleep. At least for a little while.

One corner of her mouth twitched as she continued.

This might be a good opportunity to tell me what it is I ’m dealing with, don’t you think?

Gale instinctively pulled up part of his defence again. He didn’t dare think the answer, fearing she might catch the emotional baggage tied to it. So he opened his mouth instead.

“I made a mistake, a while back. A rather serious one,” he said quietly. “It comes down to me opening a book. And getting overwhelmed by what is now lodged in my chest, demanding magic as a tribute for… not unleashing havoc on me and every other unlucky soul in the vicinity.”

She stayed silent for a moment, processing the information.

Who knew that could happen when you open a book, she then replied, sounding both amused and irritated. Please tell me that’s not how things normally go around here.

Gale chuckled and shook his head.

It most definitely is not, I assure you.

Good. I was thinking about borrowing a few from you at some point, Ley replied, a wide smile spreading over her face. And I’d like to avoid getting jumped by something nasty.

Gale could not help but marvel at the sight. She was close enough for him to count the freckles sprinkled on her nose. To notice the creases on her cheek as she smiled and the small flecks of gold in her sea-green eyes. Then he realised she might be able to pick up on that and pushed the thought aside.

Ley’s gaze roamed the side of his face, following the trails of the Orb that ran down his neck and under the hem of his tunic.

Now, the circumstances might not be ideal, but I’m very pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Gale returned the smile. To talk. Or rather think, for that matter.

Her eyes flicked back to his. Her expression turned a tad more serious.

Likewise, she replied. Though I don’t think it will hold that much longer. It takes a lot to hold the connection and I can’t afford to…

She shifted on the stone. Gale felt the muscles on her back growing tense.

I can ’t afford to… well, run out. I shouldn’t spend all of it.

He thought about that for a moment.

Not that I’d disagree, but just for the sake of curiosity, what would happen if you did?

A subtle kind of anxiety rose within her, one she was either unwilling or unable to hide.

Let’s just say you are not the only one playing host to an unwelcome visitor, Ley thought in reply, the words trickling in slowly as if chosen with great care. And mine does not react kindly to threats like the one that sits in your chest. We’d be wise not to wake it - which would happen, should I deplete my reserves.

Gale observed her closely. Noted the way she averted her eyes at the last part. If she had any more feelings about the matter, she was concealing them well.

Alright then, he thought, deciding not to pry, just as she had promised herself. Nevertheless, I do relish the fact that we’re finally able to engage in proper conversation, you and I.

Ley’s gaze wandered back to him and shied away. As if she were wrestling with conflicting emotions.

I sincerely hope you still feel the same way this time tomorrow. A pained expression appeared on her face. Below his fingers, he felt her heartbeat quickening.

She paused, biting her lip and staring at a point in the distance behind him.

There is something I ’d like to do. Something that might be able to solve this… communication dilemma once and for all. And if I may be so bold - I’d very much like to ask for your help. If that is acceptable.

Of course, Gale responded, his curiosity now peaked even more. What do you need?

There is a way to get around all that manual learning, if you so will, she formulated her explanation carefully. As though one ill-chosen word might dissuade him. But it requires access to someone’s mind. Someone you and the others might want out of the way, preferably with an extensive vocabulary. Someone we might, with a little luck, find at the temple tomorrow.

Gale nodded. He had noticed that the constant, warm trickle of magic into his chest began to subside. And, judging by the uneasy look on her face, she felt it too.

You plan on doing something similar to this? He inquired with haste, realising their time was about to run out. A more direct approach to absorbing information?

Oh no, Ley replied with a crooked, timorous smile. I told you before I wouldn’t pry. That you’d notice if I did. What I aim to do tomorrow will most definitely be noticeable. And it won’t be pleasant for whoever happens to be on the receiving end.

With an extensive vocabulary… Gale pondered, not paying heed to the last part. So, not a goblin then, I take it. Don’t you worry, we’ll find a way. I will inform the others in the morning.

Ley let out a deeply relieved sigh and pressed her forehead to his shoulder again.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Well, that should be the least I can do after what you just did for me. Gale chuckled, a smidge disappointed when Ley’s head left his shoulders.

For a moment, he could not help but stare. At the way her lips curled upwards, and the warm, genuine affection in her eyes. He could smell the subtle, sweet scent of her hair. The salt on her skin. Felt the gentle touch of her hands through his tunic. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over her back, where they had been resting since this mental link had been established. It would be easy to lean forward, just a little, and…

The connection broke with a painful snap.

Her essence, all that warmth, withdrew from the Orb and from him, leaving him with a cold, bitter feeling that grew even worse when she removed her hands from his chest.

Gale reluctantly pulled his own from her back. On a whim, he dared to reach for hers, briefly pondering if he should risk pressing a kiss to her knuckles but then dropped the thought immediately.

“We’ll find a way,” he said quietly, his thumb gently stroking her palm. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Ley whispered, another one of those beaming smiles unfolding on her lips.

When they arrived back at camp, they were met with silence. Only Karlach was on watch and yawning at them from her post at the edge of the clearing. They took a quick detour to Nori’s tent to check up on her, but the flap was closed and all they heard was quiet, peaceful snoring.

Gale escorted Ley to her tent, which Wyll had set up in their absence, and bid her goodnight before heading toward his own.

As he settled down and nestled into the warmth of his bedroll, he couldn’t help but wonder what could have happened, had he closed the distance. Had he dared to pull her into his arms.

Nothing, he scolded himself. Nothing at all. She would have been irritated at best. And you would have made a godsdamn fool of yourself.

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to drag him into its embrace. In his dreams, however, she was anything but irritated. And her hands did not remain on his chest for too long.

Chapter Text

Surge

Part I

*

“I can’t believe this is how we’re doing this.”

The cleric’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but Nori still whirled around and pressed one finger to her lips.

They pressed their backs against the stone wall and looked up. From down here they couldn’t see much more than grubby toes with yellow, disgustingly long nails. What they heard was even more revolting. Fingernails scratching over what was probably his butt, terribly off-tune whistling, and well… the splattering sound from a steady stream of urine, as it met the stones deep down at the bottom of the chasm.

She didn’t even want to look back to the others. They were still on the other side of the broken bridge, their efforts to get everyone across the gap interrupted by that drunk little prick up on that ledge over their heads.

Nori didn’t have to see Astarion’s face to know he was smirking. And she didn’t want to see his smirk. Not today. Not when her neck was still itching and her head still pounding. 

Bastard, she thought.

She had been fuming when she woke up. Not as much as Shadowheart, but a close runner-up. There had been words, many words, from her as well as all the others - except Ley, who for some reason kept looking at the floor, as if she was ashamed of something. When everyone had said their piece, Nori mobilized all her remaining strength to kick him against the shin - hard enough to send him reeling and hopping around on one foot. Which had been satisfying. Very, very satisfying.

Still, they had to raze a whole camp full of goblins to the ground. And it had to be done today, with everyone in tow. Even the damn vampire.

Wyll had been scouting ahead as they ventured out in the morning - they were originally planning to finally take care of Karlach’s paladins, but as the young warlock came sprinting back, taking a full minute to catch his breath, their plans changed yet again. The drumming had stopped, he said. And most of the goblins had retreated inside the temple.

Preparing for the next assault.

Which meant they must have finally located the Grove.

She felt Shadowheart’s elbow nudge against her shoulder and forced herself back into the here and now. It sounded like the guy was almost done.

“We still have to get around him,” the cleric whispered into her ear. “Without letting him sound the alarm, how do we plan to do-“

They were interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves from over where Ley, Gale, and Wyll were hiding behind the rocks. The goblin must have heard it too, judging by the surprised grunt that came from above. Nori gritted her teeth and pressed her mouth shut in an effort not to spout some hefty curses their way when she heard another, much quieter sound. It was an almost inaudible ‘swoosh’, accompanied by a tiny gust of air, sending the leaves of a few nearby bushes twirling, followed by the sound of something being pushed. The goblin tumbled forward, pants still down to his knees. His face was a mask of pure shock as he sailed over the edge and plunged to the bottom of the chasm. After what felt like several seconds, they heard him hit the ground with a distant thump.

Ley cleared her throat and poked her head over the ledge, grinning from ear to ear. On the other side, Gale let out a shocked scoff and Astarion started to giggle.

“I had no idea you could do that,” Nori exclaimed, chuckled, and got up, reaching for the hand stretched out to help her up the ledge.

“No complaints on my part,” Shadowheart added as she climbed up next to her.

It didn’t take long to get everybody across the gap and up to the collapsed wall that marked the side entrance to the courtyard.

Not many of them left out here, Nori thought as she threw a look around the corner and felt anxiety creep its way into her heart.

They climbed a brittle ladder, leading to the upper part of the ruin and a patch of green behind it. There, they followed a trampled dirt path that led to a small cliff overseeing the courtyard, close to where Gale and Wyll had been standing just a few days prior.

“There, that’s the wall I meant,” Wyll whispered to Nori as they crouched down, and approached the ledge of the cliff. “Seems fragile. Might be the best way to get in unseen.”

“Agreed,” Nori nodded and leaned forward. “There’s still the matter of getting there first, however.”

“I fail to see the problem,” Astarion leaned over her shoulder, giving her an awkward, slightly embarrassed smirk. He knew he was treading on thin ice at the moment and seemed eager to make up for the disastrous incident of the previous evening.

Or maybe he was just bloodthirsty.

“You wanna go hurt someone, I take it?” She asked quietly and smirked, eyes squinted as she looked up at him.

“Oh darling, do I ever,” he replied, then turned around to address Ley, who had crouched down next to him. “How about a little murder to get the day started properly, dear?”

A grim, impatient expression danced over Ley’s face as she slid around Wyll’s side, changed shape, and leaped down to the floor without making a sound. Astarion chuckled, then followed her. There was nothing more than a quiet ‘chink’ as he drew his daggers and the faintest ripping sound as claws and blades began their bloody work. Within a few seconds, every single throat was cut. None of them had woken up.

Nori slid down the cliff, eying both of them carefully.

She was used to Astarions inclination towards cold-blooded murder, but seeing Ley follow suit without hesitation was something that seemed a bit out of character. Then again, according to what Gale had told them at breakfast, the girl might need to get herself in that kind of mindset to pull through with her plan.

They followed the elf and the cat to the wall, tiptoeing around the corpses and the growing red puddles underneath them.

“Looks brittle,” Gale mumbled, then gestured for them all to take a step back. “Let me handle this.”

His thunderwave cracked the stone like eggshells, and Nori hoped it hadn’t been loud enough for the few remaining goblins in the courtyard to hear.

Might as well have noticed the sudden lack of snoring, she thought to herself. Stop worrying and get a move on.

The whole group trying to sneak was a sight to behold.

Astarion, Ley, and Nori had no trouble staying low and stepping lightly. Wyll and Shadowheart also managed to stay somewhat quiet, even Gale moved carefully enough to avoid making noise, though she could hear him mutter an endless litany of complaints and curses under his breath.

And then there was the big, glowing red tiefling, a massive battleaxe hanging from her back, clinking and clanking as it dangled against the metal on her armor - making just as much noise as the heavy plate of the githyanki that followed close behind.

Had the goblins down in the entrance hall not been that obnoxiously loud, staying undetected would have been impossible. And it would get even more complicated in just a moment when they’d have to leave the entrance hall and make their way over the rafters that led through the rest of the temple.

Nori lifted a hand to bring them to a halt.

“Any last-minute opinions regarding the plan?” She hissed, eyes wandering over their faces, finally resting on Ley’s. “Ideas? Changes?”

The young woman had changed back into her normal form and threw an inquiring look at her, then at Gale, who stared into the distance as he pondered the question.

“We should go for the drow first,” he replied after a moment. “Provided what you have planned can be done quietly. We will likely not find a more perfect fit.”

He looked at Ley.

She just grinned and Gale nodded, then turned to Nori.

“If we can take her guards out as well without drawing attention, their war chief has one less line of defense. I’d suggest we remove her from the equation before facing him.”

“A sound plan. I agree with the wizard,” Lae’zel added and Wyll hummed approvingly. So it was decided.

One by one, they set foot on the thick wooden beams that spanned over the central hall, continuing to crouch right over the heads of Priestess Gut and her followers. Nori felt her insides twist with worry as she saw how much their numbers had grown. There were some faces in the howling, screeching crowd that she recognized.

Fezzerk and his gang of misfits for example - she remembered them from the windmill. Then there was the hulking silhouette of a female ogre, and she would have bet her lute on that being the one from the shack, east of the the village. The one they had… interrupted in a rather delicate situation.

Yeah, that’s definitely her, she thought, as she noticed the comparatively small hobgoblin standing at her side.

There were a few more nameless goblins that she vaguely remembered from the village as well. Probably the missing guards. She felt a pang of guilt and begrudgingly stared at the back of Astarion’s head.

'Should have finished them where they stood,' had been his snarky comment upon their return from their first trip to the village. And he had been right.

Not that she’d ever admit that, of course.

*

Ley felt more anxious with every passing minute.

She had no idea what to expect from the others, the only exceptions being Gale, whose uncompromising support was pretty much secured after the events of the previous evening, and Astarion, who didn’t seem to have the slightest problem with cruelty of any kind. In fact, there was a good chance of him giving standing ovations once she was done.

But the thought of what the others might see in her, especially Nori, made her more than just a little nervous. Even though Gale had explained her plan to them in the morning. Even though there hadn’t been any objections, from anyone, at least not at that point. They seemed to be perfectly content with what she was about to do, didn’t question her motives or methods at all.

Until the fight at the gate.

She had thrown herself into the fray with all the fury accumulated over several days of being this dreadfully dependent, helpless mute. And once she had tasted blood - she fell into a frenzy. It wasn’t like Karlach’s burning kind of rage, certainly not like Lae’zel’s cool, calculated wrath. Ley felt light-headed, almost giddy as she tore through throat after throat and heard the satisfying 'crunch' of armour cracking between her teeth.

When she came to her senses and changed back again, she felt Nori’s eyes on the back of her head. When she turned around, the halfling looked flabbergasted, staring at the blood smeared over her face and dripping from her fingers. Ley hurried to wipe her hands clean and used her sleeve to swipe the mess from her chin before the others could see.

She knew very well that a good part of that raw, blind rage was related to the thing inside her. The thing that woke up and purred with delight when fed with violent, explosive emotions like this.

But there was no denying that a little bit of it came from herself.

In a few moments, she would have to channel all of it. Both parts. Including everything else the thing had to give. And then pray it wouldn’t take over.

Her fingers met cold stone. She had reached a thick wall, the stone half-crumbled under the weight of centuries. A narrow ladder led down to the floor. She saw bookshelves, a wooden bridge, and a small number of goblins patrolling the room. And… something that looked like an oversized, purple eye. It hovered a small distance above the floor, floating out of the room and into the hallway just below their feet.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled around.

“Someone’s a little on edge…” Astarion grinned and hunkered down next to her.

The others were a bit behind them, traversing the narrow wooden beams with caution, trying not to look down.

Ley sighed and looked at him, then at the room below. Her eyes wandered over the bookshelves and the bridge. Then locked onto the slender woman on the other side. Her skin was a shade of gray she had never seen before and her dark leather armor seemed… exotic, to say the least. Still, there was a certain kind of elegance to it, clearly indicating her position amongst the goblins.

“This woman… the drow?” She whispered and almost didn’t recognize her own, shaky voice.

“Yes, darling,” the elf answered and cocked his head. “Your target. For.. Well, for whatever it is you’re about to do.”

She swallowed and forced a crooked smirk to her lips.

“I suppose asking you to elaborate a bit further would be a little silly, no?” His smile was surprisingly warm.

“I… hmm…” She inhaled sharply and her restless fingers tapped against her knee whilst she scrambled her mind for a somewhat sufficient explanation. “Open her mind. Take words. Take… all.”

He paused for a second and blinked at her. Gale hadn’t gone into much detail earlier on and certainly hadn’t mentioned opening minds. But if he had any reservations about it, he hid them well.

“Well, don’t let me hold you back then, dear,” he grinned. “I believe quite a few of us are very much looking forward to having a proper… ahem… conversation with you.”

His eyes quickly darted to Gale, who kneeled next to Nori, still in the rafters and quietly talking to her as they both observed the weird, floating eye underneath them. Ley huffed and observed the wizard as he formed a complex gesture with his fingers and muttered a quiet incantation. There was a small, muffled thump as the eye exploded into a purple cloud, then evaporated into nothingness.

Astarion was still watching her, his grin getting wider and wider as she reluctantly forced her gaze back to him. Of course, he had noticed their absence the evening prior. She squinted her eyes and threw a few hissed curses at him in her native tongue.

“No need for profanities, darling,” he snickered with a wink and moved forward.

Wyll and Shadowheart reached the wall and Ley made room for them, prowling toward the far edge. There was the sound of small, yet heavy feet, shuffling over the stone floor down below and she eyed Astarion as he slowly pulled the crossbow from his back. A second passed and the goblin left the room and entered the hallway - maybe to go looking for the eye. With a quiet ‘chink’ the arrow flew straight through his neck, letting him fall to the ground with nothing but a small gargling sound as his hands flew up to his throat.

Within a few moments, the last of their companions had reached the wall and both Ley and Astarion proceeded down the ladder.

There was one more goblin in the room, who thankfully hadn’t spotted them as they were climbing down the side of the wall. They would have been in clear line of sight - had he made the effort to look up. He came around one of the bookshelves, ripped open his eyes at the sight of them, and was about to open his mouth - only to be immediately silenced by a dagger to the throat.

The frantic howling and screeching of the goblin host in the next room was loud enough to drown the sounds of several pairs of feet meeting the ground as they reached the bottom of the ladder.

“There’s one more at least,” Nori said in a hushed voice. “Right next to her. Ley, honey, do you need us to… I don’t know, hold her in place or something?”

Ley shook her head.

“Goblin only. Drow is for me,” she whispered, her heart hammering in her chest. Then, even quieter, “Please.”

She was beginning to sweat, not so much from extortion but in anticipation of what was to come. There was an unspoken question, a silent plea she directed inward, anxiously waiting for a reply.

Deep within her chest, the beast stirred in his slumber and reluctantly opened an eye.

Nori said something else, but her voice faded into the background noise.

Ley could only stare at the woman on the other side of the bridge, unable to focus on anything but the rising heat of her blood and the thing inside, now slowly raising its head. It saw what she saw, viewed the cold, dusty room from the same two windows that were her eyes. It blinked, and her eyelids closed, then opened again. She felt it stretch out through her insides and her limbs, oddly careful, like someone trying very hard not to crush an ant under their feet. Ley knew it understood her request, was aware of the situation, even realized the people behind her were to be viewed as allies instead of potential danger. She also knew it wanted to help, in the weird, abstract way a being like that would want to assist the fragile mortal shell of its host.

She looked at her hands, stretched her fingers until her knuckles cracked.

Then she turned her head and noticed several faces eying her with something between excitement and wariness, saw crossbow strings being spanned and spells readily dancing at fingertips. She noted a hint of worry in Gale’s eyes and Astarion’s confident, cocky smile. Ley tried to burn the moment into her mind, to memorize the look on their faces before it would inevitably shift to blank horror. Or maybe it wouldn’t. She’d find out in a minute or two.

With a small sigh and a nod at Nori’s encouraging grin, she turned around.

And took a big step.

She landed right next to the gray-skinned woman.

For a moment, there was no reaction. The drow hovered over a map that covered a small table, both hands on the leathery parchment. Her eyes flicked into Ley’s direction, but her expression didn’t change and her head didn’t move. The goblin stood a few steps away, frozen mid-sentence, eyes wide open.

The thing’s smile curled Ley’s lips upward.

“What is the meaning of this?” The woman’s voice was deep, almost regal, and very, very authoritative. In another life, Ley might have been able to respect that.

Her hand moved on its own, two fingers gesturing the drow to come closer.

The woman laughed - a low, rumbling sound that sent the goblin next to her shivering.

“Oh my, what an endearing display of misguided bravery,” she chuckled. “Were I not in the middle of preparing a raid, I might have found time to admire your… courage.”

“Mis… mistress Minthara?” The goblin’s voice was trembling and Ley noticed his gaze flickering back and forth between her and the other side of the bride. “There ‘s… there ‘s peop-“

“Hush now, Rozzak,” she shut him down with an ice-cold stare, then smiled and returned her attention to Ley. “Not only has this one managed to avoid your guards, she also dared to enter a fully armed goblin camp without weapons or armor of her own. I’d suggest we treat her with the… respect befitting such boldness…”

An odd sensation rushed over Ley, like a cold hand that tried to reach out for her mind, fingers caressing it with surprising gentleness before they withdrew.

“… not a True Soul either. Most curious…” The woman stated and tilted her head to the side. “Tell me, child. What brings a rivvil, one without the Absolute’s blessing, to a place like this?”

The thing laughed, a roaring sound that shook Ley’s insides and made her ears ring. Her lips parted and when she heard her own voice, it sounded distant, muffled.

“You.”

A salve of red lightning bolts sent the goblin flying and he crashed into the nearby wall. The drow opened her mouth and raised an eyebrow. She still seemed more amused than anything, the death of her guard apparently no bother at all. There were voices on the bridge, and Ley felt the ground vibrate as many feet ran over brittle wood. 

She held up her hand. Do not interfere.

The woman, Minthara, cocked her head to the other side, smiled her charming little smile, then reached for her weapon.

Before she could pull it from its sheath, Ley took a step closer.

Her hand reached out, two fingers repeating the ‘come hither’ gesture from a moment ago.

There was an eerie sound, almost like a whip lashing out, as the thing locked onto the drow. She froze and her pupils grew wide. Her hand paused mid-move, hovering at her side, unable to leave its position.

Words that weren’t hers fell from Ley’s lips. Her voice was twisted, hoarse, and almost at the brink of a laugh. She gritted her teeth, felt her blood starting to boil and her muscles tense as the thing paced from one corner of her mind to the other, like a hungry beast ready to pounce.

“Come closer.”

The woman obeyed without hesitation. She shuffled forward, her movements suddenly no longer graceful, but clunky and submissive. Only her eyes tried to break away, tried to rip themselves from the tight grip Ley’s gaze held them in. For a split second, Ley wondered what the others would see, had her face been turned toward them.

Then the drow was within arms reach, and Ley felt a vicious smile spread over her face. She shuddered as her hand rose to the woman’s face and gently cupped her cheek. An unspoken command rushed from one mind to the other, forcing the drow to her knees and her own body followed suit. She felt something inside that skull that tried to resist, squirming and twisting in defiance. The image of something small, something with way too many teeth, flickered through her mind but immediately got drowned by a wave of violent magic, as the thing entered her ears and eyes, flooding every pore of the woman’s face.

It roared with delight, mowed down any remaining resistance as it dug its claws into her mind, rampaging through memories like a rabid boar. Ley noticed her arm tremble, her body’s unconscious reaction to the cold fear that rippled through her chest, unnoticed by the one that was currently in control. Thoughts found their way back to her, a steady stream of incoherent sounds and images. She saw a city, dark spires looming over dimly lit streets, purple lights dipping the scenery in an eerie atmosphere. She tasted the damp air, heard water dripping from cave ceilings, felt cold stone underneath as she knelt in front of a shrine that depicted a deity she immediately recognized. She saw the faces of loved ones - then their lifeless bodies at her feet. She tasted poison and a violent giggle rose in her chest.

Words rushed into her mind. Names for everything she saw, for every smell and every taste. Menzoberranzan. Lolth. Underdark.

Wave after wave crushed against the shore of her consciousness and through the sound of her heartbeat and the thunderous roars of the thing she heard the faint rustling of paper as the book found its way out from under her cloak. It rose to her side and opened, pages hastily fluttering back and forth as they filled with her small, narrow handwriting. Hundreds and hundreds of words flew to the parchment, pages hectically flicking forward as the never-ending list grew further and further.

Ley watched from the back of her mind, somewhat detached from what her hands and the rest of her body did, as the drow started writhing in agony. At some point, her ears had started to bleed and it probably wouldn’t be long until her eyes evaporated.

Slow down, she tried to calm the frenzied beast scorching through the woman’s head. We need her alive for a little longer, we’re not done yet…

It didn’t slow down. Instead, her request seemed to spur it on even more and it tore through memories with increasing speed, retrieving the words like a well-trained dog. The woman’s mouth opened in a silent scream as smoke started to rise from her wide-open eyes. Ley felt a whimper escape her own lips.

It ended as abruptly as it had begun.

The drow sunk to the floor, her skull an empty and dry husk. Ley felt a painful wave of heat rush back inside her, still twisting and burning away at her core, its presence continuously lingering at the edge of her mind. It would take a lot of effort to get it back to sleep, once all of this was over.

She sat still for a moment, waiting for her pulse to slow down, trying to regain control.

After a moment, the sounds started to come back. First the roaring noise of several dozen screeching goblins from the other room, then, much quieter, those of steps approaching behind her back.

Ley sighed as she felt a small hand touch her shoulder.

“How you feeling, honey?” Nori asked and eyed her from the side.

Despite the scorching pain in her guts, Ley felt a wave of relief roll over her. She opened her eyes and smiled.

“Never been better,” she replied, and the halfling’s mouth opened in surprise. “Even though I can’t say I’m proud of what you just had to witness.”

Nori looked at her, completely flabbergasted, and chuckled. Then she reached for her hands.

“Means to an end, eh?”

She grinned as she helped Ley up and gave her an appreciative once-over. Then she clapped her hands and rubbed her palms together.

“Now, forgive me if this seems a bit rushed,” she exclaimed, looking to the others, then back at Ley. “But I believe we have a few goblins to kill.”

Chapter Text

Surge

Part II

*

It took some effort for Gale not to gawk at her like a smitten schoolboy.

The very second she had opened her mouth and addressed Nori, something essential had shifted. Gone was the seemingly fragile, helpless young woman who fell from the stars. The one that rose from the floor, leaving behind the smoking remains of the drow like the corpse of a random critter at the side of the road, this one was beaming with confidence, a fiercely intelligent glimmer in her eyes.

She had winked at him with genuine fondness, a slightly mischievous smirk on her lips. And he just stood there, watching in disbelief as she passed him, casually chatting with Nori about things his perplexed mind wasn’t able to focus on.

Following her back up the ladder to the rafters leading into the adjacent room didn’t make things better. He tried hard to keep his gaze aimed downward, where it was met by Astarion’s all too-knowing grin.

“Is there any way to close the doors from the inside?”

He forced himself back into the here and now, then turned toward her. Ley stared at him inquiringly. The hint of a smile danced around the edges of her mouth.

“We should at least try to keep them from joining the fight, don't you think?”

She aimed a finger at the open doors and toward the entrance hall, where Priestess Gut and her fanatic followers made about the same amount of noise as the goblins in the room underneath their feet.

“Good point,” came Astarion’s voice from behind her. “I suppose there is some sort of spell for that, wizard?”

The elf had stuck to her side like glue for the last few minutes. Come to think of it - had done so ever since the two of them had obliterated the guards at the gate.

“There is indeed…” Gale replied.

Of course, he could knock the doors closed, neither their size nor their weight would matter. But then it would also be a waste of a spell. Or two, to be precise.

“…though I’d much prefer to use those exclusively for dealing with the rabble down there. If at all possible.”

He reached for the stone pillar next to him and carefully leaned forward. Nori and Karlach were right behind the right door, just waiting for a signal from Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart, who hid in the shadows next to the already-opened, left one. The warlock had his eyes on the three of them up in the rafters, impatiently waiting for them to make the first move.

Ley hunkered down next to him, chewing her bottom lip.

“Well, we can hardly expect those guys,” she nodded toward the howling crowd below, “to just… patiently wait whilst the others try to do it manually, don’t you think? And if their chief decides to call for help…”

Her gaze wandered toward the main hall again, then back to him.

“… we might have a problem. A serious one.”

She was right and he knew it. He’d have to exercise extreme caution when dipping into his reserves during the fight and find a way to replenish them afterward. Maybe even use one or two of those potions Nori had crafted up earlier.

“Alright, then.” With that, he nodded toward Wyll.

And just a few seconds later, all hells broke loose.

Nori’s entrance was just as dramatic as was to be expected. The door flew open with a bang and she entered the room like a performer entering a stage, Karlach’s towering frame looming over her shoulders. The tiefling was a sight to behold as well, teeth bared in a ferocious grin, red skin flickering and glowing with barely contained rage, the battleaxe in her hands twice the size of the halfling.

Sometimes it was easy to forget how much havoc the voice of a skilled bard could wreak. Even more so when that voice was hidden away behind the cheerful smile of a woman who didn’t even reach up to the waist of an average-sized human.

Which proved to be a foolish, downright suicidal notion just a moment after the room had fallen silent and several dozen goblin heads, as well as that of their warchief, turned toward her. A grin formed on Nori’s lips, wide and confident, and then her voice thundered into the crowd.

One of the booyahgs fell into a blind rage and lunged at the throat of the goblin next to him. Three others stumbled backward and tripped over their feet, their faces masks of sheer horror.

The giant hobgoblin in their middle, Dror Ragzlin, howled a command, to which the rest of them started screeching and set into motion.

Gale felt Ley eying him from the side as he lifted his hands and hastily formed the sequence of gestures to summon a fireball, then saw her smirk as he threw it into the center of the room.

The following moments were a blurry mess. 

Lae’zel stormed in from the left, breaching the wave of goblin bodies with a precise, deadly sweep of her sword, closely followed by Shadowheart and Wyll. Eldritch blasts hurled through the air and the sound of Karlach’s unearthly war cry echoed from the walls. The room filled with smoke as Astarion threw bomb after bomb, up until the point where the others were too close to safely do so.

The left door slammed shut with a loud bang as Gale flung his spell at it. Mid-movement, he noticed that it now was only the elf and him up in the rafters.

His heart skipped a beat.

A second, similar bang came from below.

He turned toward the noise, just in time to see Ley whirl around on her feet as the second door fell shut, eyes and fingertips gleaming with white-hot flames. Her lips were parted with a wolfish grin as she lunged at a goblin that somehow refused to die despite the arrow Nori had just fired straight into his heart. There was a bright flash and an awfully wet, ripping sound, then a gush of blood spurt from his neck and he plummeted to the ground, right at the halfling’s feet.

Another one leaped over the dead body of his comrade just a split second later, only to instantly be mowed down by Karlach. The tiefling was shaken by mad laughter, her eyes following the fiery lines that trailed through the air behind Ley as she danced over the battlefield. She didn’t change shape this time, simply tore through the goblins in her way with half-transformed fingers.

Nori climbed the nearby stairs and bellowed a deafening litany of insults at the hobgoblin that chased Shadowheart and Wyll to the other side of the room with furious, wide swings of his sledgehammer. Whatever effect they may have had on Ragzlin, he shrugged it off without so much as blinking an eye, his gaze firmly fixed on the warlock and the cleric.

Lae’zel tried her best to hold off the swarming horde, her moves graceful and controlled as ever, but the momentum of her longsword didn’t allow her to react fast enough. She spit hissed curses at one cackling creature that jumped her from the side and another one that threw itself at her legs, sinking its sharp teeth into the exposed skin behind her knees.

Gale took a deep breath and another fireball hurled through the air.

It came down right between the githyanki and the other two, burning the smaller goblins to a crisp and the skin on the warchiefs’ back into a bubbling, hot mess. The hobgoblin turned around, hate-filled eyes darting from the scorching bodies scattered over the ground, to what was left of his warband, then up to the rafters.

He barked a command, several heads turned upward and bows were raised, all of them aimed at Gale.

Astarion whirled around and yelled something in his direction, the words drowned by the deafening noise of clashing metal and the death-screams of dying goblins.

He managed to throw himself behind the stone pillar that connected the beams before the faint ‘swoosh’ of several dozen arrows ripped through the air. Something graced his arm, leaving a burning feeling on his skin he immediately forgot about as then the world went white.

Smoke bomb, he thought, trying to blink through the fog to see if the elf was still standing or if the hail or arrows had taken him down. He couldn’t see. Not his own feet, nor the edge of the small platform he stood on, which was probably dangerously close. Everything was white, the sounds from below muffled. He heard the faint sound of clinking swords and a furious howl that might have come from Karlach.

Then something bumped against his shoulder.

A hand clutched at his robe and Ley’s face broke the thick wall of smoke. There was blood on her skin, in her hair, all over her robe. Her fingers were drenched in it.

“They got you,” she rasped, voice rough and eyes glued to his left arm.

He turned his head. An arrow shaft stuck out from his sleeve, right above his elbow. Gale didn’t feel a thing.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he replied. “We need to get down, how did you even get…“

She grabbed both his shoulders and the world took a step to the side.

“...up here”

His feet met solid ground.

She stared into his eyes for a second, then let go of his shoulders. They were at the far end of the room, on the platform behind Ragzlin’s throne, the brittle wooden railing on its edge separating them from the ongoing fight. Gale’s eyes darted through the room.

Astarion leaned at the wall behind them, panting and holding his waist. An arrow shaft protruded from between his fingers.

Shadowheart and Wyll were at the top of the stairs, Eldritch blasts and healing spells flying from their hands. He couldn’t see the others, but he heard them. Down there, in the thick of it.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to heal this, I’m so sorry…”

Ley eyes were still fixed on the arrow. She was biting her lip. It had gone right through, he saw the end sticking out the other side as he turned his arm.

“No need for that…” he mumbled. The adrenaline in his veins was still blocking out the pain, and he was determined to use that opportunity.

“Would you be so kind as to hold that end for a moment?” He pointed at the tip.

She looked at him with irritation, blinked, then did as he asked.

He grabbed the feathered part of the arrow with his other hand and snapped the shaft in two. His half fell to the floor and he reached for the part she held between her fingers.

“May I…?”

Ley stared at him, then let go. He ripped the remaining part of the shaft out and dropped it. Then he fumbled at the pouch on his belt, pulled out one of the small, red flasks, and smiled at her.

“Nothing a potion can’t fix,” he said. “Given that our cleric seems to be slightly inconvenienced at the moment.”

She lifted a finger, looking like she wanted to say something. Then decided otherwise and turned to Astarion, who had just plucked the arrow from his side.

“You don’t happen to have a spare one, do you?” The elf groaned, and smirked at him, his face even more pale than usual.

Gale didn’t answer, just pulled out another flask and handed it to him, then emptied his own in one go.

A roaring howl drew their attention back to the fight at the center of the room.

He rushed to the railing, fingers anxiously clenching around it as he laid eyes on the scene below. Karlach was still hacking through the - now considerably smaller - horde of goblins, her face warped into a terrifying mask of unhinged bloodlust. Wyll fired into the crowd from afar, an endless row of red lightning bolts flinging from his fingers. Judging by the pained grin on his face, he had been hit as well. Shadowheart threw healing spell after healing spell in the direction of Lae’zel and Nori, who tried to corner Ragzlin on the small pedestal his makeshift throne stood on. The cleric's expression was one of both extreme focus and rising panic.

The hobgoblin towered over them all.

He had worked himself into a frenzy, bellowing orders and rallying warcries toward the surrounding goblins as he swung his maul with both hands, chasing Lae’zel from left to right. He moved surprisingly fast, faster than a creature his size should be able to. Didn't allow the githyanki to get a single swing in herself, instead forcing her to dance around the merciless blows of his hammer which were probably able to crush her skull in an instant.

Nori did her best to distract him, taunting and mocking from a few feet behind, trying to get a shot in whenever Lae’zel moved out of her line of sight. None of that seemed to have an effect. The arrows sticking from Ragzlins’ broad red shoulders didn’t slow him down in the slightest, Nori’s screams didn’t get his attention for even a second. And Lae’zels’ face was glistening with sweat, even though her moves hadn’t lost any of their usual grace.

Yet.

“We need to get in there,” Ley said quietly. “Now.”

She was gone before he could even attempt to answer, leaving only a gust of wind as she vanished and reappeared below him, right behind the raging warchief.

Gale threw up his hands, a firebolt dancing at the tip of his fingers, waiting to be thrown. He didn’t take his eyes off her, just heard a faint ‘clink’ as Astarion readied his crossbow next to him.

For a moment, it seemed like no one had noticed her. Only the corner of Lae’zel’s mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, whilst she dodged yet another blow, not taking her eyes off the opponent for a second. Then, Ragzlin turned on his heels, and the swing of his hammer forced Ley to jump backward, her whole body now pressed against the wall below Gale’s feet.

“BACK SO SOON?”

His face parted in a malicious grin, showing a row of razor-sharp teeth as he readied his weapon again. Diabolical fires burned in his small, yellow eyes as he threw himself at Ley, the hammer howling through the air behind him.

Nori screamed.

Lae’zel jolted forward, ready to strike.

Gale threw his firebolt, aiming it right at the hobgoblins’ eyes, but he wasn’t fast enough. He gasped as he heard the wall below him crack under the impact.

Something quick and bright flashed through the air, and a surprised growl escaped the warchief’s bared teeth. Blood sprayed, a wide gap opened between his shoulder blades and Ley jerked backward again until she stood shoulder to shoulder with the gith, her fingers turned claws, eyes ripped wide open. She was panting, the sudden shift of Ragzlin’s focus had undoubtedly taken her by surprise.

“Should have cut your throat the moment we caught you,” the warchief scoffed, slowly turning around, his gaze fixing on her again. “Or taken you to Minthara as a gift.”

Lae’zel turned her head to the side, still not taking her eyes off him. Her lips moved, as she mumbled something Gale couldn't understand in Ley's direction and raised her sword.

Ley shifted from one foot to the other, grinning as the hobgoblin approached.

“There’s still time, little kitten,” he smirked, head tilted as he stepped closer. “You might end up a feast for her spiders yet.”

She chuckled.

The hammer hurled through the air and she jumped, teleported behind him as Lae’zel parried the blow. There was the sound of claws, ripping through flesh and Ragzlin howled furiously, pushed the githyanki away, and turned on his feet again.

It was like a slow dance between three partners, and Gale couldn’t take his eyes off it, even as he heard Astarion rush to the stairs to assist the others, even though he could hear Karlach’s raging warcry somewhere in the background. Every swing of the massive hammer was blocked by Lae’zel and with every block, a new wound opened on the hobgoblin’s back, on his shoulders, or his legs. He roared furiously every time Ley’s glowing fingers ripped through his skin, whirled around, and swung his weapon frantically, but she was faster and avoided every blow with ease, always staying just out of arm’s reach. Gale followed their every move with fascination, occasionally throwing a firebolt into the mix when he felt things got too close for comfort. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Nori doing something similar, firing arrows from the far side every time she had a clear shot.

It didn’t take long until the warchief's skin was torn to shreds, peeling off the back of his legs in loosely dangling pieces, and Gale could see his movements become slower, more sluggish with every passing moment.

But he didn’t fall.

Somehow, he kept his knees from giving in, fueled by blind rage or maybe desperation, seeing as more than half of his subjects were dead on the floor by now. His breathing got heavier, and at some point, he just blocked Lae’zel’s advances mechanically, no longer chasing after Ley as she continued to decorate his back with deep, bloody wounds.

When the hobgoblin closed his eyes, Gale was sure they were about to fell him.

Lae’zel grinned and stormed forward, shouting something in her native tongue, something confident and final. Ley plopped into existence right at Ragzlin's side, lifting her claws yet again, ready to pounce. She studied him for a moment, carefully waging her chances, then squinted and disappeared.

And those small, fiendish eyes clapped open again.

His arm jolted forward and snatched Ley in mid-air just as she materialized in front of him, a big, red fist clutching around her throat. The other fist rammed his warhammer against Lae’zels’ chest, which sent the githyanki flying and she crashed into the wall.

Nori screamed. Shadowheart yelled something inaudible from the distance.

Ley gasped for air, dangling from his fist like a puppet. She kicked and pawed at him, claws tearing through the flesh on his forearm.

Ragzlin didn’t even pay attention.

“I know how you move, little beast,” the warchief’s voice was no more than a vicious growl. “We’ve done this before, remember? Now I might not be able to trap you the way I did before…”

A hoarse laugh spilled from his lips. He carried her toward the gaping chasm just a few feet from his throne, held her up like she weighed nothing. His knuckles cracked as he tightened the grip around her neck.

“… But I would bet my left arm that even you can’t survive a fall like this one if you’re unconscious.”

Ley bared her teeth, feral rage refusing to leave her eyes, even as her movements got slower and choked sounds escaped her throat.

Arrows hurled through the air and pierced Ragzlin's back, adding to all the others already sticking out from his shoulders and his chest, all of them fruitless attempts to gain his attention.

“How long do you think, until you reach the ground?”

His tone was gleeful and the grin on his face got wider as Ley’s eyes started to flutter. The bottomless chasm was almost within reach.

Gale didn’t have time to think. His fingers moved on their own and the words he knew better than his own name echoed from the walls.

Then the world went up in flames.

They hurled from the ceiling and hit the ground hard enough to throw the warchief off his feet. The walls cracked and Gale heard some of the beams above them snap, then plunge to the floor, one crashing straight into the already burning mass of goblins on the far side of the room. Towering over them was Karlach, unharmed and shaken by giddy laughter. 

Smoke filled the air, sizzling flames engulfed everything that wasn't made of stone or metal. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nose and he saw the massive body of Dror Ragzlin fall to his knees. He howled in both pain and frustration, his whole body scorched and smoldering, frantically trying to get a hold of the woman writhing and squirming between his hands. Even though his fingers were burnt beyond recognition, their flesh raw and trembling, he kept pulling her back every time she tried to wriggle free, his shaky grip still strong enough to keep her in place.

Ley, wide awake, unburnt, and furious, stemmed a foot against his chest and pulled, growling at the ruined, red face in front of her. Then, with another frenzied scream, she shifted form and snapped forward, burying her claws in the hobgoblin’s shoulders and her teeth in his throat.

He fell on his back, legs kicking a few times until they finally lay still. She didn’t let go, every muscle in her feline body trembling as she kept him pressed against the floor, jaw closed tightly around his neck.

Gale hurried to the stairs, quickly checking on Wyll, who had sunken against the wall, a hand pressed against the bloodstain spreading over his stomach.

“Go,” Shadowheart snapped at him. “I’ll take care of this.”

He laid a hand on the warlock’s shoulder and received a half-hearted, deeply exhausted smile in return.

Down the stairs, he saw Lae’zel scramble to her feet, reeling and coughing dust from her lungs. Karlach was busy burying her axe into the few remaining goblins that dared to still draw breath.

Astarion was kneeling next to Ley, quietly talking to her and grinning from ear to ear.

“That was much, much harder than expected,” Nori’s voice came from his right side.

Gale turned and looked down at her. The halfling seemed more than a little tired, yet somewhat satisfied.

“We have a problem,” he replied, pointing over his shoulder in the vague direction of Wyll and Shadowheart. “Or, well, several. At least one of us wounded, and most of our reserves depleted. Magical reserves, that is. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I’d wager Shadowheart isn’t in much better shape at the moment. And there is still the other half outside, that we somehow have-”

“I know, Gale. I know.”

She scratched the side of her face and turned around to survey their surroundings. Her gaze flicked over to Wyll and Shadowheart, then to Lae’zel, to Karlach and the pile of dead goblins at her feet, then finally to Astarion and Ley.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s see how the girl is doing.”

As it turned out, she wasn’t doing too well.

“He is most definitely dead, my dear,” he heard the elf coo at the big, gray cat, her wide yellow eyes fixed on his face, tail angrily dashing from one left to right. “You’ll have to let go of him at some point. I can plunge a dagger into his heart if that makes you feel any better.”

“Guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Nori said quietly as she stepped closer.

Ley growled against the skin of the dead warchief.

Then she blinked, almost embarrassed, loosened her grip, and removed her teeth from his throat. She scrambled backward, shifted back into her human form, and straightened up. Her lips and chin were smeared with blood.

“Bit off more than you can chew, hm?” Astarion chuckled. “Happens to the best of us, darling.”

Nori looked like she wanted to say something but Ley’s lifted finger stopped her. All of a sudden she looked very pale and covered her mouth with the other hand.

“Give me a second, would you?”

Then she turned to the wall, coughing and choking, spitting out small, red clumps as she leaned against the stone.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, this is awful…”

She rubbed her mouth with both hands, then looked back at the elf.

“How on earth do you do this… “ the expression on her face was one of complete and utter disgust. “... without throwing up?”

Gale couldn’t help but laugh.

“Allow me…” he said, still grinning, and took a step closer. He looked down, chuckled as he saw her blood-smeared, slightly irritated smile, then lifted his fingers and mumbled the words needed to set the prestidigitation spell to work. Within the blink of an eye, both her face and her robes were spotless again.

She blinked twice, touched her chin, then the hem of her cloak.

“Uhm…”

His grin widened. Astarion snickered somewhere behind them.

“I’m gonna need to know exactly how you did that,” she said and looked at him with beaming eyes.

Nori's head popped up next to them.

“How about,” she said amusedly, hands stemmed into both sides of her waist, “we get out of this place before the two of you get started with the lectures again?” Then, much softer, “You good to keep going, honey?”

Ley patted down her chest and her stomach, then smiled back.

“Scrapes and bruises,” she replied. “Nothing serious.”

Gale’s eyes fell on the tear in her cloak and the dark stain right under her collarbone, soaking through the fabric he had just cleaned the blood off.

“That doesn’t seem to be entirely true,” he said and pointed at the spot, then reached for his pouch, producing yet another healing potion.

She looked down, then touched her chest and hissed quietly.

“Just a little scratch,” she shook her head at the flask in his hand. “Will heal on its own, no need to waste one of those…”

“It most certainly isn’t a waste if it keeps you from bleeding out.” He opened the bottle with a quiet plop, then held it toward her.

“Gale, I am fully capable of dealing with something that small on my own,” she shook her head again and huffed. “I’m telling you, those things are better used on someone else.”

One brow raised, he threw a doubtful glance at the growing red stain.

“Bit on the stubborn side, aren’t you?” He smiled, nudging the flask between her fingers. “Anyways, it’s open already. Might as well just take it.”

Nori had followed their back and forth silently, a sly smirk curling one corner of her mouth. Then she gave Gale a mischievous wink and turned around, toward where Astarion was already pilfering through the dead goblins' belongings.

“You’ll handle things from here,” she exclaimed. “Now, I’ll make sure our dear magistrate doesn’t pocket all the good stuff himself.” With that, she strolled off, leaving only him and Ley, who now eyed the bottle in her hand suspiciously.

“I’m not trying to poison you, I promise,” he chuckled. “Even though the taste does take some getting used to.”

She threw him a final, hesitant glance, then pressed her eyes shut and emptied it in one go, then inhaled sharply as she swallowed its contents.

“I see what you mean,” she hissed through closed teeth. “Still better than…”

She pointed behind herself, at the smoldering body of the dead warchief. Then handed back the empty flask and gave him a wide smile.

“Thank you, by the way. That could have ended badly.”

There were specks of gold dotting the green of her eyes, Gale noticed. Somehow he hadn’t noticed that before. Then again, it had been quite dark the evening before, when she had been so close he’d almost…

“Which reminds me…” he said, quickly cutting off his own thought, then glanced up at the rafters. “Before you get the impression I have no manners at all - I’d like to thank you as well. For getting me down there. One could say that makes us even now.”

The beam he had been standing on hadn’t survived the blazing inferno. Its’ splintered remains lay scattered somewhere at the far side of the room.

“That took me by surprise, I have to admit,” he added, then smiled back at her. “I had no idea you could Misty Step.”

“Misty what?” Ley squinted her eyes, visibly irritated for a moment.

“Oh, you mean the jumping. The…” She bit her lower lip, searching for the right word. “... teleporting. Yeah, I can do that. One of the few things I am actually good at, if I dare say so myself.”

One of the… Gale blinked confusedly. His mind wandered toward the ship she’d arrived on and to the myriad of stars she had painted into the sky just the day before. And to the smoking, empty husk of the drow whose mind she had plundered minutes ago.

He must have trailed off for a moment, noticed she was staring at him, head slightly tilted.

“How is your…” she looked at his chest, then back up at him. “… blind passenger holding up?”

Right, the orb. Gale threw a worried look to his side.

Nori and Astarion kneeled a few steps away, rummaging through the pockets of one of the corpses. Far enough they shouldn’t be able to pick up on her words. But then the elf heard a lot of things he wasn’t supposed to. Ley’s eyes followed his gaze and her lips formed a silent ‘oh’, her expression almost apologetic.

“They don’t know?” She whispered.

Gale shook his head.

No, they didn’t. Not yet, anyway. He was fully aware that one of these days he’d have to let the cat out of the bag and just hope they’d be willing to let him stay, despite the threat his mere existence posed to them.

“If at all possible…” He cleared his throat. “… I would prefer that matter to remain between the two of us. For the moment.”

“Of course.” She didn’t hesitate for even a second.

Then he remembered she had a somewhat similar problem.

“How about yours?” he asked in a low voice and smiled at her. “There was something about it not reacting kindly to threats and you hoping it wouldn’t wake up… The way I see it, our current situation could probably be classified as mildly threatening.”

A pained smirk darted over her face.

“Indeed, it could,” she replied, and stared at the ground, her hands nervously clenching together. “And yes, it’s wide awake. Has been since I…”

She didn’t look up, just pointed in the direction of the room in which they had left the lifeless body of the drow. When she continued, her voice sounded a bit hoarse.

“So far, it has been relatively docile. Did as it was told. But that could change any minute now. We should be fine, as long as it sees those filthy, little monsters as the enemy and not… any of you. Or…”

She nodded at his chest again.

“Just do me a favor and stay clear of me, should things start to get out of control. And make sure the others do the same.”

When her face turned up again and her gaze found his, Gale felt his insides twist into a knot. This was certainly not what he had expected to hear. And the crooked smirk she tried to force on her lips made it look like she was genuinely scared.

“What exactly does out of control look like?” His brows furrowed into a worried frown. “Ley, we should know what we’re dealing with here, don’t you think?”

You’re one to talk, he scolded himself a second later. The paragon of forthcoming honesty.

She paused for a moment, carefully weighing her next words.

“Depending on how much more trouble we're going to face on the other side of those doors,” she replied as she looked back at him. “There is a good chance it will lash out. Try to defend me. And whenever it does that, things have a tendency to… get a bit heated.”

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask another question, but got interrupted by Karlach, who approached them from behind.

“What’s this about things getting heated?” She grinned. “Who’s gonna lash out?”

Ley replied with an equally wide smirk.

“Nothing, really. Just my, uhm…” she squinted her eyes again. “... Magic acting up a bit. Should be fine, as long as I have something I can throw it at. Preferably green-skinned, with way too many teeth. Goblin-sized, you know.”

“Aaah…” Karlach nodded, pouting her lips. “Understood. Don’t think that’s gonna be much of a problem.”

Then she turned toward the others, eyes darting to Wyll and Shadowheart, who had descended the stairs and now slowly wandered over to them. The warlock still seemed a bit paler than usual, but it looked like his injuries had been dealt with. Next to them, stoically waiting for the group to move on, stood Lae’zel, eying the others with an utterly emotionless expression.

“Now where ‘s that charming little bard of ours…”

Her eyes fell on Astarion, stuffing gold and a bunch of small items in his pouch, then on the small frame of the halfling next to him, half-obstructed by the pile of corpses she was kneeling behind.

“There you are,” she exclaimed. “Oh, fearless leader… May I have your attention for a moment?”

“Yeah, what?” Came the nonchalant answer.

“We might have a teeny-tiny problem,” the tiefling continued, nodding toward the right door, which now stood half-open. “They’re gone.”

Nori’s head flung up.

She stared at her with something between disbelief and rising panic. “What do you mean, they’re gone…?”

“I mean, they’re not there anymore,” Karlach said. “Main hall ‘s empty.”

A moment of uneasy silence passed.

“They will be waiting for us outside,” Lae’zel stated in her usual, indifferent manner. “In the courtyard, waiting for the doors to open so they can ambush us. A sound strategy.”

“Great…” Nori replied, staring holes into the air as she tried to think of a solution.

“What about the tunnel?” Wyll added from the side. His voice still sounded a bit unsteady, but his expression was determined and fully focused.

“There’s a tunnel?” Ley asked.

“Yes there is, leading out from that torture chamber,” he continued, eyes darting from her back to Nori. “You know, where we freed the guy from the rack. The one that came here with Aradin’s folks. He escaped through some kind of side entrance, remember?”

Gale scratched his beard.

“We’ll still have to face them,” he said. “One way or another. And they do have an ogre.”

“Two…” Nori added quietly. “Bunthir and her boyfriend were in there as well.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, but she ignored him.

Then, her face lit up.

“What they don’t know…” she said and reached for her pack. “... Is that we do as well.”

*

Karlach’s axe carved through his skull like a knife through butter.

The small goblin body plunged to the floor like a sack of potatoes, both halves of his split head flopping to the side, making a wet sound as they landed on the bloodsoaked pavement.

A frantic squeal ripped her attention from the gory mess at her feet, back to the small figure sprinting toward the other side of the courtyard on feeble, yet surprisingly agile legs. She leaped over the corpse, chasing after the priestess immediately. Blood rushed through her veins like liquid magma and adrenaline flooded her mind, clouding her vision with a blood-red, hazy fog. The grin on her lips was so wide it was almost painful. 

“GET YOUR UGLY ARSE BACK HERE!”

Her voice roared through the air and echoed from the walls, only to be drowned immediately by the ground-shaking, deafening sound of ogre feet trampling over the battlefield just a few feet away.

They had taken the tunnel. And it had been a wise decision.

The little pricks had indeed been laying an ambush, led by that disgusting little creature they called their High Priestess. Seeing them come from the upper level instead of the main door, had taken her by surprise, even though that didn’t buy them more than a few seconds. What it did give them, was the opportunity to pick quite a few of her followers off before they understood what was happening. Gut had been hollering commands and some garbage nonsense about the Absolute, how blessed they were all to be fighting in her name, yada yada yada. And for a moment, as the crawling bulk of small, green bodies threw itself against the walls like a tidal wave, some of the others looked a little worried.

But then it had taken exactly one blow of that warhorn to make them trip over their feet, as Lump and his buddies - or were they his brothers? She wasn’t quite sure - came stomping over the bridge.

Now, on the ground, dodging ogre legs and screeching goblins, chucking her axe into everything hostile that dared to come near, she was fully in her element.

And it felt glorious.

Karlach stormed around a stone pillar, bursting through barrels and piled-up chests, steadily closing in on her prey as it tried to weasel its way out of her reach. Something stumbled in her way, another goblin, chased by an enormous foot and crushed flat into the dust as it came down upon him. She smelled eldritch fire to one side, where Wyll was dancing around a group of four of the little bastards, rapier in one hand, red lightning bolts flinging from the other. Good. She’d been worried about him for a second back there in the temple.

“YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

Priestess Gut grinned over her shoulder, baring her pointy little teeth as she climbed up the ladder to the upper part of the courtyard.

Of course, she wouldn’t get away.

The others were right up there, probably throwing firebolts and stuff like that whilst they were down here doing the actual work. Not that she could blame them. The wizard and the cleric had burnt through most of their magic in the previous fight.

Wizards, she thought.

Good for a nice, quick burst of damage, sometimes even able to take out whole groups of enemies at once. But gods have mercy if the actual fighting took longer than two seconds.

Gut had reached the upper end and grinned even wider. Before Karlach could set foot on the ladder, she kicked it off to the side, cackling as it hit the ground and broke into pieces.

“Think you’re clever, eh?” Karlach growled through her grin. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. This was her kill, not Gale’s or Astarion’s.

Something bright swooshed through the air, landing behind the priestess. The old goblin ripped open her eyes and turned around, bumping into Ley, who stood behind her, patiently waiting with her hands behind her back.

“This one yours?” She shouted down to her.

“Yep, mind if you…”

The human smiled, gave a little courtesy, and pushed Gut over the edge before she could make so much as a peep.

Karlach lifted her axe and tore through her mid-air, cleanly separating head from shoulders.

“Much obliged!” She yelled up, but Ley wasn’t there anymore.

Instead, she popped up next to her, a feral grin on her lips.

Hasn’t slowed down at all, Karlach thought and gave her an appreciative nod. Good on you, girl.

For whatever reason, the rules that applied to all the other magic-users didn’t seem to bug her at all. Still, something felt a bit off. Well, more off than usual.

“You alright there, soldier?”

Ley panted, eyes darting around their surroundings, then back to her. Her gaze seemed a bit unsteady, and the bright glint in her eyes had gotten more intense, like twin flames that flickered through from the inside. Karlach could swear she smelled burnt flesh as she stepped closer. Burning flesh and smoke.

“I’m fine, just…” she replied, taking a heavy breath. “... just heating up a bit.”

“Hooo boy, do I know what that feels like,” Karlach laughed. “You have no idea.”

Ley’s cloak was drenched in blood.

Shame, she thought. Gale just got it cleaned up.

Which had been a sweet gesture, but also a pretty dumb one, in her opinion. Of course, the guy was always sweet. Kind, polite, all of that. A nice fella, if you were able to overlook the constant mansplaining. But when it came to that girl, he seemed to put in even more effort. With her, he was extra sweet. And a bit extra dumb, now that she thought about it.

Karlach snorted, then grinned and gestured Ley to follow her back into the courtyard.

If that even was the right term. ‘Girl’. Somehow Nori had started calling her that, but then Nori was one of the ancient relics in their little gaggle of misfits. She was pretty sure the only one older than her was the vampire. But how old was this one?

She threw her a glance from the side.

Difficult to tell just by looks, she thought. Could be anything between mid-twenties and…

Then she noticed the blood running from her ears.

“Soldier, you’re leaking,” she said, pointing at her own ear as Ley looked at her inquiringly.

“Oh,” she replied, indifferently swiping her sleeve over the side of her face.

That was all. Oh.

Karlach would have been worried about that, but as soon as she set eyes on what was left of the goblin horde, bloodlust took hold of her again and swept every coherent thought from her mind.

The only real remaining obstacle was Bunthir, the ogre lady that was currently rampaging through the courtyard like a rabid minotaur, raging and howling ever since one of the others had taken out her bugbear-boyfriend. Like a well-oiled machine, the three of them felled her like they had felled the other one before - an Eldritch Blast to the face caused her to stumble around blindly, then Ley blinked on top of the walls somewhere above her, jumping her with enough momentum to topple her over. Once she was on her knees, a single, clean swing of the axe finished the job.

The few remaining ones were swiftly dealt with. Her axe mowed down two that tried to escape over the bridge, Wyll got another one that went for the side entrance - the very same they had come through this morning. Everything else got trampled by the ogres or was shot from a distance, either by arrows or firebolts.

As the last goblin bit the dust, silence fell over the courtyard.

When she and Ley returned to the center, the others had already made their way down there as well. Nori was deep in discussion with the big guys.

And something didn’t feel right about the way they looked at her.

“I’m afraid this is most inadequate,” their leader said, eying the corpses scattered over the ground. “No more than a few pecks.”

“What the hells do you mean, just a few pecks?” Nori replied, visibly too tired for this kind of discussion. “Even if goblin isn’t to your liking, I’d like to point out that there are two dead ogres right over there, just waiting to be nibbled on.”

“Now, whilst my brethren might not hold such reservations,” the ogre replied - Lump was his name, Karlach remembered - eying the halfling as if she had just insulted his mother. “I am of a more… acquired taste and will not sink so low as to devour the flesh of my kin.”

Really? Karlach thought.

“That’s where you draw the line?” Nori exclaimed as if she had read her mind. “Really?”

“Indeed, it is,” Lump leaned down, his gaze wandering over her from head to toe.

“Now, I believe we made a deal, sweet stuff. ‘The flesh of the fallen’, that was what we agreed on. Enough to fill our bellies. Seeing as you won’t be able to hold your end of the bargain, I’d be willing to make an exception and let you pay my original rate in gold instead. With interest, naturally.”

“Naturally…” She sighed. “How much would we be talking about, just out of curiosity?”

Karlach let her gaze wander around the faces of the others.

Gale and Wyll were just a few feet away, the wizard’s brows furrowed and the warlock uneasily shifting from one foot to the other. Shadowheart stood close by, watching the situation unfold with horror. Lae’zel had moved to the side, ready to charge in from the flank. Somewhere behind the ogres, Astarion lurked in the shadow of the nearby building. She saw his daggers glinting in the dark.

Lump tilted his enormous head to the side.

“I’d be willing to let this… miscalculation on your side pass for a total fee of… “ He paused, as if calculating the appropriate sum, then grinned. “Let’s say ten thousand gold pieces. Yes… that should be sufficient to compensate for the feast that was promised to us.”

Nori’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, after regaining her composure. “You know very well that’s an impossible sum to pay.”

“And still, you will pay,” he replied, still eying her with that unnerving, hungry expression. “The only other solution I see to solve this little conundrum is to add another course to the menu, which, if I’m honest, almost sounds like a preferable deal.”

The two other ones moved, just a little, as they heard the last part.

One licked his lips.

Karlach leaned down to Ley.

“Take position,” she hissed with a low voice. “Now.”

There was no answer, just a small gust of wind and she was gone.

Nori pinched her nose with two fingers.

“Alright, alright,” she said and held up the other hand. “Let me quickly check in with my companions, see if we can scrape that much together.”

With that, she turned around, toward Gale and Wyll, shrugging and seemingly unbothered by both the outrageous demand and the obvious, impending threat behind her.

Good move, Karlach thought, but I don’t think he really wants you to-

Before she could finish the thought, the massive hammer from Lump’s back came crashing down, smashing the stone floor next to the halfling to pieces.

“Do you think me so flaccid, little morsel?” He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made the hair on Karlach’s neck stand up as she jolted forward. “I will crack your bones and suck their marrow!”

Then, several things happened at once.

Another crush of the hammer, this time aimed directly at Nori, met nothing but stone again as Ley swept the halfling off her feet. She set her down on top of the wall, gave her a worried once-over, then vanished into thin air again.

Lump roared in frustration.

And then set his gaze on Gale, Wyll, and Shadowheart, who were standing closest to him, their backs against the wall. He grinned. His two companions did as well.

Karlach set into motion.

Gale ripped his arms up instinctively and chucked a handful of fire into the nearest ogre's face, to which it howled and stumbled around aimlessly, one hand trying to wipe the burning pain from his eyes. Wyll did the same with the other one, then grabbed the wizard by the sleeve and pulled him to the side, away from the colossal, stomping feet that were closing in on them. Shadowheart ducked, avoiding a wildly swinging arm by about an inch, then vanished behind the wall on the other side.

Lump’s angry little eyes flicked to the halfling for a moment, unsure whom to pursue. Nori didn’t hesitate, just aimed her crossbow directly at his eyes and fired. He staggered sideways, covering his face just a second too late. The smokepowder arrow exploded right where it was supposed to and sent him reeling, almost trampling over Gale and Wyll as he stumbled backward.

Ley appeared next to the two men, barely dodging a giant leg as she landed. She was panting, and something about the way she moved didn’t seem right. Wyll grabbed her with his other hand and all three vanished behind a corner.

Karlach stormed in and was about to raise her axe to fell one of the others, but Lae’zel beat her to it. Her blade sliced through the back of one of the other ogre’s heels, which made him topple over and fall to his knees immediately. He groaned, more confused than in pain, and tried to reach behind his back, his giant hand grabbing nothing but air.

Having regained his vision, Lump fixed his eyes on Nori again, completely disregarding the fact that his companion was bleeding all over the floor.

Number three, on the other hand, did care.

He howled, throwing his improvised club, which was basically just a mace-shaped log, around him with reckless abandon. One hit was vaguely aimed at Lae’zel but she managed to duck below his arm and the momentum made him whirl around his own axis. He swung around and the club hurled through the air, its weight dragging him backward a bit, away from the other that was still on the ground.

Astarion used that opportunity to shoot out of the shadows, sidestep the gith and her sword. He jumped on the back of number two, avoiding the grasp of his clunky fingers with ease, then plunged his daggers into both sides of his neck.

With a last, choked groan of surprise, the brute fell to the ground, whirling up a cloud of dust as his face hit the dirt.

Lump didn’t care at all. He was closing in on the wall Nori stood on top of.

He sniffed at the stone.

Karlach knew exactly what he was thinking about, but she didn’t have time to react. Her gaze was firmly fixed on the scene unfolding in front of her. On number two, whose angry little eyes had locked in on the elf hovering over the dead body of his buddy - or, well, brother - staring back at him with an expression of sheer panic.

He closed in on him with surprising speed, giving Lae’zel less than a second to react. The gith threw up her sword and hacked into his leg as he passed her, but the cut only slowed him down for a moment.

“MOVE!” Karlach barked.

The elf snapped out of his shock-induced paralysis and leaped to the side. 

She lifted her axe with both hands, shifted her weight from one leg to the other, bracing for impact. 

All of a sudden, the sound of something big smashing against stones echoed through the courtyard. She heard a wall crumble. And several people scream at the top of their lungs.

When she saw the giant club close in, it was already too late.

For a moment, the world went black.

When she came to her senses and sat up, Shadowheart shuffled backward, her fingertips still faintly glowing with what remained of her healing spell. Karlach scrambled to her knees, blinking away the dizziness.

“That’s it,” the half-elf said, her voice laden with exhaustion. “I’m out. Completely out.”

“Peachy,” she said and grinned at the cleric. “No worries, I’m-”

Something big crushed against stone again. Both their heads jerked in the direction the sound came from. 

The wall was no longer just crumbling. It was collapsing. Lump threw his whole body against its base, disregarding every spell Gale and Wyll threw at him. Ley stood next to them, gritting her teeth in an expression of utter despair. Her glowing eyes were glued to Nori, who tried to hold her balance on one of the remaining, stable sections of the wall.

A panicked groan escaped Karlach’s throat. Her fingers found the hilt of her axe and she jumped up, setting into motion immediately.

Somewhere to the right, in the middle of the courtyard, she heard the faint swoosh of Lae’zel’s sword as it cut through the air and the quick, sharp stabbing sound of Astarion’s daggers. Then the stomping of big feet and a long, pained howl.

Number two, she thought. Don’t have time for number two.

Lump took a step backward and grinned. His eyes flicked to what was left of the brittle stone wall, then to the small figure reeling on top of it.

Karlach’s pulse was racing, the infernal clump of machinery that was her heart fired on all cylinders. She knew she wouldn’t reach them in time. On a whim, she grabbed her axe and came to a halt, feet slithering over the bloodsoaked stone pavement. One hand aimed, the other threw.

It missed his head by a few inches and buried into his shoulder instead, but the impact sent him stumbling back a few steps.

She kept running, closed in on the three humans.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR,” she yelled. “GET HER DOWN!”

Ley looked at her, then at her hands.

“This will backfire,” she stammered. “This will very likely backfire, I might…”

”You have to,” Karlach gasped as she came to a halt next to her.

It took no more than a second. Some part of her mind short-circuited as she saw the conflicting emotions dance over Ley’s face and the burning flicker in her eyes, now so prominent it felt like a separate entity was watching her through them. She looked lost, trapped between impossible choices.

Without thinking, her hand found its way to Ley’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

There was no reaction. She didn’t even wince.

Before Karlach could wrap her head around why that was and what that meant, she felt a warm breeze brush against her skin and Ley was gone.

Instead, she stared into the bewildered face of Wyll, hands frozen mid-cast, and Gale’s deeply worried frown, eyes flicking to the top of the wall just a moment later.

Lump had found his footing again.

His hand closed around the hilt of her axe and yanked it out of his shoulder with a disgustingly wet ripping sound. Before anyone had time to react, he threw himself against the stone yet again, hitting it hard enough to send tremors through the whole wall.

Another gust of wind, and Nori popped up next to her, falling to her knees and panting heavily, a smoldering burn mark on the side of her arm.

“Oh no… no, no, no,” Ley stammered, landing right behind her. “I didn’t mean to… I can’t keep… Nori, are you-”

“I’m fine, honey,” the halfling cut her off and grinned, even though the skin visible through the gap in her sleeve was of a deep red and threw bubbles as if it had been boiled. She was clearly in pain. “We’re good, let’s…”

The last part of her sentence was drowned by the ear-shattering howl of frustration coming from behind them.

Nori instinctively took a step forward, which probably saved her life.

Ley just turned around.

Karlach saw the glint of something sharp and a shadow fell over them.

Blood sprayed. Way too much blood. And she saw her axe, her very own axe, hurling through the air, clutched by a massive, green hand.

She heard herself scream something unintelligible, felt her legs move on their own, and reached out for that slender body, to catch it before it hit the ground. That body that should, by all means, be falling right now, that should be collapsing, almost cut in half as it was…

But it didn’t fall.

It just tipped backward a little, then snapped back and tumbled forward, legs moving in a way that seemed unsteady, wobbly, almost as if they couldn’t quite remember how to operate properly. There should have been blood on the floor, trailing behind her, gushing from the fatal wound she just received. There wasn’t. Instead, she heard the sizzling of flames, smelled burned flesh. She couldn’t see Ley’s face, just her wild mane, tamed by a loose braid that trailed behind her as she took a few more, shaky steps toward Lump, who was grinning and patiently waiting for her to come closer.

A rumbling, unearthly sound, almost like muffled laughter, came from what she assumed to be Ley’s throat. Then she saw fingers glowing and smoke rising.

“Karlach!”

Gale yelled her name from behind, loud and determined. She turned around and saw that he had retreated a few steps further back, dragging Wyll and Nori with him.

“Get away from her, quickly now!”

Why would I… she thought. Then she noticed something was wrong with the air.

It took her a second to recognize this strange, half-forgotten sensation.

Heat.

She whirled back, just in time to see a flash of light jolt toward the ogre, leaving scorched earth and smoldering stone in its path. Lump’s expression switched from insufferably smug to dumbfounded, and then Ley was on top of him.

Her face contorted into a demonic grin, dipped in an eerie light by the white-hot flames that burnt from where her eyes used to be, Ley - or something that looked like Ley - shredded through his flesh like it was nothing. Her hands moved, glowing like heated metal, ripping gaping wounds into his shoulders and neck faster than they should have been able to  Within a few moments, before he even had time to sink to his knees, she had painted his throat and chest with an erratic pattern of finger-deep, scorching cuts. One hand burnt out his eyes, the other clawed deep into the skin of his arm and tore it straight from his shoulder, seemingly without effort. 

It landed a few steps from Karlach’s feet, slithering over the ground, the ogre’s fingers still clutched around the hilt of her axe.

The air was filled with the sound of sizzling flames, half-molten stone cracking under the feet of the blinded ogre, and his muffled howling that got more choked with every cut, until it finally ceased completely.

Lump was dead before his body hit the ground.

For a second or two, no one said anything.

The only thing they heard was Ley’s wheezing breath, as she collapsed between the corpse and smoldering stones, still emitting enough heat to melt the surface of the pavement beneath her.

To Karlach’s surprise, the wizard was the first to move. He carefully made his way around the corpse, perpetually mumbling spells that covered the floor in front of him with a thin layer of ice. Which was melting away pretty much instantly, but apparently cooled the stone enough to allow safe passage.

Showoff, she thought, and went after him.

Ley sat on her knees, the hood of her cloak pulled deep into her face. She was looking at her hands, closing them to fists repeatedly, and mumbled something under her breath. At first, Karlach couldn’t make out the words. Once she stepped closer, next to Gale, who had hunkered down at a safe distance, she recognized the language.

“काज पर लागि जाउ, गदहा”

“Oh dear gods, no,” she sighed. “Please tell me we are not back to-”

“We’re not,” Ley’s voice was hoarse and quiet. She didn’t look up. “That was simply not… meant for you.”

Karlach opened her mouth in confusion.

“You’re trying to put it to sleep, I take it?” Gale asked softly. He didn’t seem irritated in the slightest.

“Not quite…” Ley said. “Not yet, anyway. First, it has to clean up the mess it made. Fix the things it broke.”

“Uhm, for the people who don’t know what’s going on,” Karlach grinned and nervously eyed the dead ogre to her right. “What mess are we talking about?”

Ley looked up.

Most of her face was hidden by her hood. The small part of it they were able to see, was covered in a thick layer of blood. And judging by the way it was still actively running from her nose, her eyes, and her mouth, most of it was her own.

“Me,” she said. “I need it to fix me.”

Chapter Text

Farewells

*

“So… let me see if I got that right…” Ley sighed.

Her head was still pounding like mad and the taste of copper seemed determined to stick to her tongue, even though she had tried to wash it out repeatedly for almost an hour now. She reached for the shallow water on the side of the river she was kneeling at, then splashed some of it in her eyes, closed them, and ran both hands over her face.

Behind her, Gale took another bite from his apple.

“... This ‘dream visitor’ sees everything you see, is able to protect you from turning into one of those…” What was the term he had used? “… Mind Eaters and yet somehow it doesn’t know how or why your tadpoles have been tampered with?”

Gale hummed in agreement. Then swallowed his mouthful of apple.

“Neither does any of the druids. Or that devil we had the dubious privilege to meet.” He said and made a short pause before he continued. “Nor any of the goblin leaders, for that matter. Even though they were infected as well. Voluntarily, one would presume.”

Ley dried her hands on her cloak, leaned back, and let herself fall on the warm sand of the riverbank. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric of her shirt. The bloodstain where the axe hit her had dried to a sticky crust.

“Huh.”

She took a deep breath. Then looked up, into Gale’s upside-down smile. What was left of the apple landed somewhere in the bushes next to the boulder he was sitting on.

“That’s rather a lot to take in…” She chuckled, then rubbed one hand over her tired eyes. “Tadpoles, a bunch of fanatics and their upstart god, Mind Eaters…”

“Mind Flayers, technically,” he said, then shrugged. “Just a minor divergence in terms of semantics, but an important one, nonetheless.”

“Right…” She grinned, then swallowed hard as she remembered what else had transpired earlier in the day. “The eating part is probably more… my thing.”

Gale snorted out a laugh.

“If you’re worrying about any of us thinking less of you after that, you might want to reconsider who you’re talking to. As something of a would-be-mindflayer myself, I for once would like to point out that I fully approve of your methods.” He squinted his eyes at her and tilted his head. “Well… maybe not so much your methods as the deed itself… You know what I mean. The end justifying the means and so forth.”

Ley gave him a half-hearted smile.

She sat up, carefully, so as to not reopen the wound on her belly. It had stopped bleeding moments after the thing had taken over, had been cauterized from the inside, so to speak, but getting the actual gap to close had been an entirely different matter.

“As relieved as I am to hear that…” She turned around to him, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I still didn’t like being forced to go for measures that… drastic. Especially as I didn’t have the means to properly explain myself to the people I happen to depend on.”

“Well, now you do,” he replied with an even wider smile than before. “With all that newly acquired knowledge you now have the capability to explain yourself in great detail, should the need for any more… drastic measures arise. And if that happens to be the case, I’m sure you will be met with the same, uncompromising acceptance as today.”

She buried her face in the crook of her arm and chuckled quietly.

“Alright, alright…”

A thought crossed her mind. An unpleasant one.

“You said the tadpole allows you to read people’s minds…” She looked up and gave him a somewhat tentative smile. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but I simply have to ask - were… are you able to read mine?”

Gale stared at her for a moment, then laughed.

“Well, so far, I haven’t tried,” he replied. “And at this point, I’m not sure if it would be a wise decision to do so. I have a feeling you would notice any attempt in that regard momentarily and something tells me there would be hell to pay, considering the company you have in there.”

He paused, eyes flickering to the ground, then back to her before he continued.

“However, were I able to reach out the way you did yesterday…”

There was a softness to his voice that made Ley blush a little and she hid her cheeks between her arms again.

“… I certainly might have given it a try. That could have potentially solved the whole language-barrier dilemma in a matter of days. Alas, I’ve yet to add that kind of… spell to my repertoire.”

Gale hesitated for a second. When she looked up, she saw a hint of guilt dart over his face and he stared at the ground.

“Which reminds me…” he said, eyes flicking to hers, then down again. “I’ve forgotten to thank you for that as well. That seems to be turning into a rather unbecoming habit, I hope you can forgive me.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.

“How about we stop it with the completely unnecessary formalities? Gale, you’ve seen me rip out someone’s throat today - and had the decency to clean up the mess in the aftermath. I believe we’re past the point where every gesture of goodwill has to be met with thank-yous. And I sincerely hope you’re not under the impression that anything depends on proper etiquette, because in case you hadn’t noticed - I’m not from around here and  wouldn’t have the first idea what does or doesn’t count as proper with you people.”

“Point taken,” he chuckled, then his tone turned a little more serious. “I’d still like to emphasize how much your efforts were appreciated. And still are. You saved me a great deal of trouble there. More than you could possibly know.”

Oh, I have an idea, she thought. I’ve seen it from up close, after all.

“If you want to make it up to me, there’s something I could really use your help with right now,” she sighed and carefully got to her feet.

“I’m all ears,” he said and raised his eyebrows as she brought her fingers to the massive blood splatter seeping through the fabric of her cloak. “Healed already?”

She nodded.

“Healing is the very least it can do,” she said quietly, watching as he lifted his fingers, mumbled a few words, and the spell set to work. “After wreaking that much havoc on the inside.”

Within a second, the cloak was clean again. She took a quick look underneath and saw that her top was as well.

“Thank y-”

His mischievous smirk cut her off mid-sentence. Ley bit her lip and grinned.

No more of that, she thought. You said it yourself.

A moment of silence passed, his eyes absentmindedly watching her fingers, which kept fumbling around with the cloth.

“Such a curious kind of synergy,” he mumbled. “Between you and… whatever that thing is.”

Very different to what you have going on there, I take it, she mused and threw a glance at the faint purple lines trailing from the collar of his robe to the side of his face.

“In its defense,” she argued as she closed the belt around her cloak again, “it never complains about having to undo the damage it caused. Doesn’t really want to hurt me in the first place I guess, but then that’s almost unavoidable. Just like you probably won’t be able to pet an ant without squishing it a little.”

Gale opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something in reply, then decided otherwise.

A question popped into her mind and she nodded toward his chest.

“How often does it need to…” She tried to think of a better way to paraphrase what she wanted to ask, but couldn’t find one. “… feed?”

His expression hardened. Ley knew she had struck a nerve and instantly regretted the question.

“It should be a few more days before my craving returns. Though I’d like to avoid resorting to such desperate means as to draw upon what you have so generously offered. Which, to be honest, I should never have accepted in the first place.” His voice got a little louder. Angrier. “There were other options, very much within reach, and it was nothing but pride and undue stubbornness that kept me from asking for help...”

Right, the thing with the enchanted items. Astarion had made a snarky comment about that on the way back from the temple.

“Just so you know, Gale,” she said quietly, hoping to interrupt this self-destructive train of thought he had embarked on. “No harm was done there, in that clearing. The… orb didn’t take anything I wasn’t willing to give-”

“I know!” he exclaimed harshly, then immediately lifted a hand in apology and closed his eyes, before he continued. “I know… And like I said, I appreciate it. But even so, I believe we both are perfectly aware that we’re dealing with forces we can barely control a fraction of - if at all. And we’re not in a position where risking some sort of… chain-reaction is a good idea. Not that it would ever be, of course. If anything, this should be a last resort, for when the situation gets absolutely desperate. Which I will try to prevent to the best of my ability.”

Ley stared at him, scrambling her mind for an appropriate answer. But seeing the slight tremble in his shoulders as he tried to regain his composure, the only thing she could come up with was a very simple question.

“Gale… are you alright?”

He took a deep breath and forced a crooked smirk to his face.

“I am. I will be. Please forgive me. Today is not the day to wallow in self-pity and indignant ramblings. After all, we just put an end to a threat that had the whole region in a chokehold - and lived to tell the tale. How about…”

His eyes lit up, the pained expression changed into the genuine, jovial smile she was beginning to like so much.

“... Provided this doesn’t cause you to run off into the woods again… How about we head back and see if we can’t get our hands on something more filling than apples and plain water? There are quite a few ideas I have for those supplies we’ve pillaged. I may just be able to turn them into something palatable.”

As soon as he said that, Ley noticed the subtle, gnawing emptiness in her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since… Well, since last night. This morning, before they had made the trek to the temple, she had been an anxious mess, not even able to think about breakfast without feeling the urge to throw up.

“Gladly,” she exclaimed, then smiled sheepishly. “My days of running away from friendly faces should have hopefully come to an end.”

He winked at her and got up from his stone.

The others had mostly retreated to their tents, exhausted and beaten up as they were. Only Shadowheart and Scratch greeted them briefly, momentarily resuming the tug-of-war game they were playing with a stick almost as long as the dog itself.

Gale did his best to scramble together a few small, edible bits and bobs, enough to sate Ley’s hunger for the time being, then set to work on preparations for a proper meal. Various ingredients were placed on the table near the kitchen tent, knives were sharpened and the embers in the firepit rekindled up with a satisfying swoosh.

Moments after sitting down, they heard the buzzing sound of many voices coming from the nearby forest, all of them talking over each other. They were closing in on the camp and after a moment, the squeaking sound of big, wooden wheels added to the mix.

“What in the hells…?” Astarion came out of his tent, visibly annoyed by the disturbance.

“Sounds like they brought the whole Grove with them…” Ley mumbled, her gaze fixed on the direction the noise was coming from.

The first one to step out of the trees was Karlach, waving and grinning from ear to ear, followed by Wyll, who seemed slightly less enthusiastic.

Then, a cart rolled into the clearing, pulled by two stoically looking oxen, bucking and bumping over roots at the side of the narrow path. The barrels piled up on top of it were shaking with every move, somewhat held in place by many hands that tried to keep the cart steady. Two of those hands belonged to Nori, who sat on one of the barrels, her grin even wider than Karlach’s.

Several dozen people, most of them tiefling refugees, some of them druids, stepped out of the treeline. Towering over all of them - ironically still taller than cart, barrels, and the halfling on top of them - was Halsin, the soothing baritone of his voice echoing through the woods.

Gale swallowed hard and let out a nervous chuckle.

“I sincerely hope no one expects me to feed the whole camp tonight.”

*

Nori couldn’t help but smile as she let her gaze wander over the bustling crowd.

Most of them were already quite tipsy - and a few completely hammered. She giggled at Danis’ futile attempts to get his happily babbling wife to sit down next to him, instead of tottering around on shaky legs and trying to hug everyone she laid eyes on.

Good, she thought. More of that.

Even that one guy, the one whose name she kept forgetting, who had just been sitting around on the other side of the camp, sulking and begrudgingly monitoring the others - now had a drink in his hand, thanks to her. And he looked considerably less grumpy.

She was rather proud of herself.

After all, this was her element. Dodging tumbling legs as she made her rounds, maneuvering glasses and tankards into empty hands, making people forget about their troubles for an evening - this was her natural environment.

It felt like home.

On quiet feet, she walked up to Zevlor and Rath, who were deep in discussion and didn’t notice her until she nudged a fresh cup of ale in the tieflings hand. Before he had the chance to even open his mouth, she clanked her own one against it and took a big swig.

“Am I imposing?”

Both men smiled down at her.

“As if that were possible,” Zevlor said and cheered at her with his drink before he took a sip. “The lady of the hour. Doing the rounds, I see?”

“Just wanted to check in, see how my favorite Hellrider is holding up. This is probably quite the contrast to what your last weeks looked like, huh?”

“Former Hellrider,” he replied and she noted the sad undertone in his voice. But the smile didn’t leave his face as he looked around. “I can’t tell you how good it is to finally see those people smiling again,” he made a wide gesture, encompassing the whole camp. “I’ve almost forgotten what it felt like myself, to be honest.”

“A well-deserved moment of respite, before the lot of you hit the road again,” she said, a tad more serious now. “You better make sure to squeeze every last bit of happiness out of this evening, stock up on a few good memories before things get serious again.”

He laughed.

“Oh, we will, don’t you worry. And tomorrow, whilst most of them will probably still be sleeping off their hangover, Rath and I will deal with the remaining last-minute preparations. I want us to be gone as early as possible, so we can get a good chunk of the way behind us before nightfall.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nori nodded, then turned to Rath. It had been a surprise, seeing him join the trek to the camp, but not an unwelcome one. On the contrary. Those two had been working together so well, she was glad they were given a chance to say their farewells in surroundings as pleasant as these.

“And what’s going to happen with the grove once all of us are gone? Now that your leadership squabble has been sorted out.”

The druid looked to the side where Halsin sat on a nearby log, right next to Ley, who seemed to be demonstrating her shapeshifting abilities by transforming her fingers into claws.

“Let me see… “ He then said. “The near future promises to be rather uneventful - except for Kagha, who has a lot of work to do before she can consider herself redeemed. Demoted to novice at the moment, as you very well know. As for us others, it’s mostly going to be waiting. Until the new Archdruid arrives.”

Nori blinked confusedly.

“Wait, wait… New Archdruid? The one we’ve dragged out of that temple suddenly not good enough anymore?”

She pointed at Halsin’s broad shoulders.

Rath laughed heartily. “Oh, quite the opposite. But he has other plans. You’ll probably hear about them come morning.”

Still chuckling, he nodded toward the others and shooed her away.

“Enjoy your night now, as I’m sure we will as well. Could probably do without the singing but even so.”

Is that a challenge? She thought, smirked, and wandered toward the elf and the human.

They were mid-discussion, the topic obviously still that of Ley’s shifting, judging by the end of Halsin’s sentence Nori was just about able to hear as she came closer.

“… an intriguing notion, to be sure. But if this is indeed how you came about your talents, then I’d wager you are no more bound to Mother Nature than most wizards or warlocks I’ve come across so far.”

“What’s this, then?” Nori grinned and lifted her cup. “Did I miss anything interesting?”

Ley chuckled, looked up, and shook her head.

“We have just concluded that I am, in fact, not a druid. That’s pretty much it.”

“Well…” Nori looked from one to the other. “That’s… something? I guess?”

She was well aware there were some major questions yet to be answered. Both as to where the young woman had come from and - more importantly - what strange, otherworldly powers had to be slumbering inside her to enable that fragile, little thing to tear the arm off a fully-grown ogre.

But that promised to be a long conversation, one she’d rather not have this evening. There were more pressing matters to discuss, and most of them had to be discussed with the man sitting next to her.

“Now, I don’t want to interrupt the two of you,” She said to the druid. “But I was hoping to catch you for some questions regarding Moonrise Towers, if you can spare me a moment.”

Halsin smiled down at her.

“Don’t you waste a night like this talking to me. We’ll discuss your problem and everything else tomorrow morning. Go, mingle, enjoy your evening.” He nodded at her, then at Ley. “The same goes for you. I must not keep you all to myself, as enjoyable as that may be. Seek out some wine, before it runs dry. There are a lot of thirsty people around here.”

His eyes wandered to the side.

Nori followed his gaze to where Astarion stood in front of his tent, slowly rotating a glass in his hand. A wide, salacious grin spread over his face as Ley looked up and her eyes met his.

She sighed.

“Why don’t you have a drink with us?” She said to the druid. “Take your own advice, bear-man, how ‘bout that?”

He laughed and held up both hands in defense.

“Thank you for the offer, but I rarely imbibe. Stuff goes right to my head, might have me breaking into song, and believe me when I say that no one here needs to hear that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind,” she grinned. “Let’s make it a duet, or even better - I could get a few of the others to join in…”

Halsin shook his head violently.

“Another day, perhaps,” he chuckled. “Besides, there are still a few things I’d like to discuss with Rath, regarding the grove. We’ll speak in the morning. Now go, there are many people here who want to spend time with you.”

Ley got up from the log and smiled at him, then turned toward her. Nori’s eyes fell on her empty hands.

“Have you even had one glass so far, sweetheart?”

“Not yet, no.”

Nori grabbed her by the hand and turned around, pulling her toward the kitchen tent where Gale and Karlach were busy handling the remaining barrels, handing out wine and ale to all sides.

“Wait… wait, Nori, I’m not so sure I should be drinking,” Ley laughed and stemmed her feet into the ground, forcing her to come to a halt. “Not because I’m afraid I’d start singing, but well… I’m simply not used to it anymore. And I’d like to be able to stand on my feet in the morni-“

“If that’s supposed to be an argument, I’m telling you right now - it’s not good enough.” She pointed at Ley’s nose and squinted her eyes. “We’re not going to get another evening like this for quite some time, I’m certain. And we‘re about to head into even more trouble than we have seen over the last week combined. So, no. I might have let Halsin off the hook, but you’re one of mine, and I’m not about to let you pass the night sober.”

“Oh my, that almost sounds like a threat…” Ley grinned and lifted a brow. “One of yours?”

“That you are,” Nori nodded sincerely, still wiggling her finger into Ley’s face. “Don’t try to distract, now. I mean it. At least a glass or two. Otherwise, you’ll never hear the end of it - that’s a promise.”

She wanted to add something else, but then a very, very drunk Alfira stumbled into her side, nearly running her over.

“There you are!”

The tiefling was reeling backward, her unsteady gaze trying to hone in on Nori’s face. Ley chuckled, winked, and then left in the direction of Astarion’s tent.

“Just don’t let him near your throat, alright?” She yelled, but wasn’t sure if that had reached her.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a lone figure on the far side of the camp, standing next to the river with sagged shoulders.

“Your song was coming along, you know,” Alfira giggled, then lifted her empty wine glass. “But then things started spinning a little and I’m not sure I know how to hold a lute anymore. If you want to take over that part, we can get someth-“

Nori lifted a finger to interrupt the other bard’s jabbering.

“I would love nothing more - but for the moment, you must excuse me. I see someone sulking in the corner over there, which frankly, I can not allow. I’ll be back though, so don’t you dare pass out in the meantime.”

She winked at the tiefling, and snickered as she saw her chuck her heels together and salute as she passed her and left toward the riverbed.

It was Wyll.

Of course it was Wyll.

He had been in an uncommonly gloomy mood ever since they had gotten back from the Grove. Part of that may have been caused by the heavy beating he had taken earlier in the day, but most of it was probably related to the baffled glances people had thrown at his changed appearance.

Sand crunched under her feet.

He winced and turned his face.

“Hells, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

“What’s going on, Wyll, the party is over there, in case you didn’t notice. Why the long face?” She looked at his hands and noticed they were empty. ”And nothing to drink either! That’s not how this works!”

Wyll sighed, then forced a weak smile on his face. “I… just don’t feel in a festive mood and didn’t want to sour the mood. I love the people from the grove, but having a devil at your party seems to be a bit… unsettling for most of them. Horns this sharp will pop the balloons, you see.”

The image of a colorful assortment of balloons descending on his head flashed into her mind. Nori chuckled, then looked at her cup. The stuff might be a bit stronger than she initially gave it credit for.

“You do realize most of them have horns of their own, yeah?” She said, looking to the horde of celebrating tieflings, then back at him.

“A silly notion, maybe. But you know what I mean.” He smiled, then nodded toward the noise and the laughter. “Off with you now! Have a dance, enjoy the music!”

Nori lifted a brow and gave him a determined grin.

“Even if I did know what you meant, I still wouldn’t leave you out here, wallowing in self-pity. You’re coming with me, Sir. At least for a drink or two. Or five. Then, you do whatever the heck you want to do with the rest of your evening. Deal?”

Rubbing a hand over his face, he blinked down at her. She could swear she saw a hint of gratitude fly over his features.

“You won’t let this go, will you?” He grinned.

“Damn right, I won’t.”

Wyll paused for a moment, then laughed.

“You’re impossible.” He threw up his hands. “Alright, alright, I yield! Lead the way.”

She hummed appreciatively, gave a little curtsy, and gestured for him to follow.

“Wonderful! Come on, we’re raiding the kitchen. The tent. Well, the place with the wine.“

They made their way across the camp, and the few tieflings that actually paid attention didn’t stare longer than a moment before smiling widely at them both. With every step, a little more tension seemed to fall from his shoulders. Thankfully, the crowd around the barrels had dispersed for the moment. The only ones still shuffling around the tent were Karlach and Gale.

Well, Karlach was shuffling. Gale leaned against a pile of chests, arms crossed and fingers playing around with a glass of wine. He had his back toward the center of the camp, so he didn’t see them approach.

“… an interest from another, unnamed individual, would you have a suggestion on what someone might do about it?”

Karlach looked up from the barrel she was rolling from one place to another and winked at Nori before she answered.

“Just talk to them Gale, come on. And leave out the hypotheticals.”

Gale paused. One finger tapped against the glass.

“Talking. Right. I’m good at that,” he mumbled quietly.

“We interrupting something here?”

Nori grinned from one ear to the other as the wizard whirled around, almost dropping his drink.

“No, of course not, why…” He spluttered. “Why would you?”

Karlach tilted her head and looked at him with a mix of disbelief and adoration.

“We were just talking about all the thirsty people around here, ain’t that right, Gale?” She smirked at Nori and gave the barrel a friendly slap. “So much to do, if you want all of them to have a good time.”

Wyll cleared his throat. “Right…” he said. “Some of them thirstier than others…”

Nori followed his gaze to where Astarion was currently trying to flirt Ley into the ground. The calm, patient smile on her face made it seem like she was not overly impressed.

Still, she thought, she’s been there for a while now.

Then she noticed the half-emptied wineglass in Ley’s hand. And the way the elf casually leaned closer, his face inches away from hers. She didn’t even flinch as his fingers found their way to her forearm.

“Might want to keep an eye on those,” Nori said. “Wouldn’t want them to regret their life choices in the morning now, would we?”

Wyll looked at her, slightly bewildered. “Now that sounds a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, still staring at the ongoing flirtation attempts.

“Not talking about him, dear. Not talking about him.”

Nori ripped her gaze off them and threw a careful glance at Gale. His eyes were firmly fixed on the elf. And judging by the violent glimmer in them, he was about ready to fry him to a crisp.

“Would you believe…” She clapped her hands, then pointed her thumb at Wyll. “That this guy had the nerve to be ashamed of his magnificent horns?”

“WHAT?” Karlach exclaimed and stared at the warlock, who pinched his nose and gave Nori a disgruntled smirk. “Those are some fetching horns, and I know what I’m talking about. Elegant, and in tiptop shape.” She knocked at what was left of her right one. “Believe me when I say they’re something to be proud of. Please, Wyll.”

He sighed and grinned into the mug of ale Nori had managed to sneak into his hand.

It didn’t take much more to break him out of his brooding. He laughed at every comment Karlach made, grinned widely as Nori refilled his mug and after the second one, he started throwing out jokes on his own. Nori felt a nice, buzzing warmth spread through her body. Just for one evening, for one night, no tadpoles, cults, or world-ending threats were able to sour her mood. As for this moment, she was perfectly content with the world as it was.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement at the far side of the camp.

Gale’s head turned in the same direction. He had been unusually quiet the whole time, silently twisting the glass between his fingers, eyes occasionally flicking over to Astarion’s tent.

Wyll squinted his eyes and smirked. Karlach’s eyebrows went up. Nori turned around just in time to see Ley vanish behind a small group of people standing nearby. The elf didn’t follow. A moment later, she reappeared on the other side and kept going, absentmindedly smiling and nodding at people as she walked by.

She was heading toward the river.

“Get! Moving!” Nori hissed and wanted to poke her elbow at Gale’s legs, but he was already gone.

The three of them watched him steer through the babbling horde of tieflings around the campfire, wineglass in one hand, a bottle in the other.

“Things can never be easy, can they?” She sighed.

Karlach snickered behind her.

“Would be kinda boring if they were.”

Chapter Text

Weave

*

Astarion had already poured her a glass when she walked up to him.

“You know, I was just thinking about you…” He purred and crimson eyes flickered mischievously as he handed it to her, fingers deliberately touching hers as he nudged it between them.

I’m sure you were, Ley thought and raised a brow.

She lifted the glass to her face and closed her eyes. It was one of the better ones, that much she could tell by scent alone. She hummed appreciatively and took a sip, letting the heady taste linger on her tongue for a moment before swallowing it.

“I never would have guessed,” she said, smirking at him, then paused and stared at the glass. “Damn. I completely forgot how good this tastes.”

One hand at his chest, he looked at her as if she had just insulted him to the bone.

“Darling, I’m hurt,” he said, his dramatic tone matching the gesture. “Here I was hoping you’d be drawn to me because of my outstanding looks and irresistible personality… Am I to believe it was simply the wine that lured you in?”

Ley took a deep breath.

“Good looks aside, you’ve been staring holes into the back of my head for quite a while now,” she stated and cocked her head. “And I was wondering if maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about sinking your teeth into other people’s throats again. In mine, to be precise.”

The elf pouted his lips and for a second, his gaze flickered downward.

“The idea has certainly crossed my mind, I won’t deny it,” he replied, giving a nigh-on convincing, innocent smile. “And more than once, to be completely honest. But as for tonight, there are other things… besides biting… I could imagine doing with that delightful little neck of yours. ”

A part of her was starting to get a bit uncomfortable. The other, much bigger part wanted to see how far he was willing to take this. And pondered for how long she’d be able to keep a straight face.

She felt his breath brush against her skin as he leaned closer and his gaze softened.

“But if the thought of my… affliction makes you feel uneasy, I can assure you, those appetites have been sated for today. So have yours, it would seem.”

He hummed gleefully and squinted his eyes as Ley shuddered, her thoughts forced back to what it had felt like, to what it had tasted like, as her jaws closed around Dror Ragzlin’s throat.

“I’m not sure I share your enthusiasm when it comes to spilling blood, you know…” She mumbled, brows furrowing as she took another sip.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” Astarion grinned. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes, that unhinged ferocity as you tore those guards to shreds. Such a beautiful picture, seeing you throw every last bit of restraint and self-control overboard. I have to say, I was impressed.”

He wasn’t wrong, and he knew it. Ley wanted nothing more than to blame the Thing inside her, seeing as it was responsible for most of the damage her raging frenzy had caused, but there was no denying that some part of it had come from herself.

“So, that’s what it is then?” She chuckled and nudged her glass in his direction. “You’ve set your mind on wooing me because you see a little bit of common ground, even though that part regarding my alleged bloodlust is still up for debate…”

“It is not, darling. You’re not fooling anyone, certainly not me,” he replied with a wide grin, then leaned in even closer. “And no, that would not be the only reason. What’s not to like? You must know what kind of effect you have on others, I’m hardly the only one whose attention you’ve caught.”

Ley froze. Suddenly this didn’t feel like a game anymore, not a situation she could dive in and out on a whim. She had been trying to put her rusty social skills to the test, break out of her shell a little, preferably with a counterpart whose advances she was sure to not affect her. Of course, he had been shamelessly flirting with her pretty much right from the start, but in his case, that seemed as natural as breathing. She hadn’t thought much of it so far, just enjoyed the moment and maybe basked in the attention a little more than she’d care to admit.

And now she stood here, blushing against her will and frantically trying to figure out who else might have shown that kind of interest this evening. Wondering how many signals she had been dumb enough to misinterpret. She felt small, helpless even. Almost like her recent achievement of obtaining the means to communicate hadn’t changed anything at all.

Without even noticing, she started to chew her lip.

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled and quickly took another sip.

Astarion huffed and looked at her in disbelief.

“Oh dear… is it really that bad?” He said, voice a bit softer now. “Does he have you under some kind of spell? Or are you just that oblivious?”

Why did she come here again? Right, Nori told her to get a drink. And because, the silly goose that she was, she enjoyed being looked at the way he did. Gods, she was lonely. It was embarrassing. She felt her pulse getting faster. And a little voice from the back of her mind noted that he might very well be able to pick up on that.

“You must be seeing things I am not.” She looked up and gave him the most impartial smile she could muster.

“Hmm…” The elf hummed, disregarding her last words completely and his gaze trailed off, eyes fixing on something behind her. A vicious grin formed on his lips. “Then again, you are here, and not… with him. Which leads me to believe you’re looking for something you’re currently not getting anywhere else.”

Oh, she thought as it finally clicked. That’s where this is going.

“You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?”

Which was more of a statement than a question. Because that was exactly what it was. Blunt, ridiculous even, to assume something was going on on that front. Sure, she had spent a lot of time with Gale so far, more than with any of the others, but the reasons for that were obvious, at least they should be, even to Astarion. The interest on both their sides was purely academic - he had thrown her a lifeline by trying to teach her their language. And holding on to it as firmly as possible had been the only sensible thing to do.

Yes, sure, they might have shared a moment or two that could be considered rather… intimate. And she did enjoy being met with that beaming smile whenever she picked up on one of his ideas. Or tried to help him cook. Or just wished him a good morning. And there had also been flowers at some point, come to think of it.

Astarion’s gleaming red eyes burnt into her skin. He leaned back, a complacent smile on his lips and slowly lifted his hand. His fingers ghosted over her forearm and the back of her hand. Ley felt the hairs on her neck stand up.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He cooed. “I know exactly what I want, and what I want is standing right in front of me. Pretty as ever, cheeks all flushed. How am I meant to resist?”

Is this really supposed to be working? She thought. Flirting people against the wall until they cave?

“You seem pretty convinced you’ll be getting what you want, that’s for sure.”

If the mocking undertone in her voice had any effect on him, he was hiding it masterfully.

“Oh come now, no need to be coy with me,” His smile got even wider. “You’re heartbeat is giving you away, darling.”

Ley snickered. “Don’t read too much into that. I’m simply not used to this…” She lifted her glass. "Nor this anymore." Then she gestured toward the buzzing crowds of people around them. “Besides, is it so impossible to believe that I simply enjoy your company?”

The elf withdrew his hand and took a step back.

“You’re a tough one to crack, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer, just took another swig and smirked into her glass.

“Although I do appreciate the sentiment,” he said after a short pause, squinting his eyes and smiling coquettishly. “Not that it comes as a surprise, mind you. My charms have proven to be quite irresistible in the past.”

Ley chuckled and ran a hand over her face. Then she sighed, blinking at him doubtfully. “Really? Even after last night?”

The elf scoffed with contempt, but his gaze darted to the ground for a second. Ley felt a pang of guilt dart through her guts, almost regretting her last words. He had been in terrible shape after what happened, even though there was no way he’d admit to having made a mistake.

“You know,” she continued, voice softening a bit. “If you need blood, all you have to do is to ask.”

Astarion stared at her, visibly irritated.

“Really?”

She nodded.

“I’d rather help you hunt than have you cause another disaster like that. Might even let you bite me, should the situation call for it. No judgement on my part.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A moment of silence passed before the teasing smirk found its way back to his face.

“And you’re not afraid I’d… suck you dry?”

She snorted out a laugh.

“You might not have noticed, but I am rather hard to kill. Partly because there’s someone inside here,” she tapped against her chest, “that would burn you to a crisp before you'd have a chance to do any serious damage. Besides…”

In a sudden bout of confidence, Ley took a step closer and looked up at him, eyes briefly switching to yellow, irises turning into slits.

“... my teeth are longer than yours, dear.”

His brows wandered up and a surprised laugh escaped his lips.

“Cheeky little cub,” he chuckled and leaned closer. “Careful though, I might actually hold you to your word.”

“Feel free to do so,” she replied cheerfully. “I wouldn’t have offered, had I not meant it.”

Somewhere behind her, a group of people burst into laughter. Then, a sizzling sound, followed by a series of explosions that echoed through the clearing. She turned around and saw blinking lights, like a cluster of fireworks, fly up into the sky, their creator bowing to the two excitedly clapping tieflings sitting on a log in front of him.

Her gaze wandered further, over the faces around the centre of the camp, laughing and illuminated by the flickering flames of the fire in their middle. The noise of several dozen, heavily inebriated voices, having faded out almost completely over the last few minutes, now flooded back into her mind. She felt cold, even though the enchanted fabric of her cloak was perfectly capable of insulating against every change in temperature. Her head was spinning a little, probably due to the wine, but also because of the myriad of sensations filling her eyes and her ears.

Ley shuddered and rubbed her hands over both arms.

“Now, whilst I very much enjoy standing here, listening to your brazen advances,” she said, blinking up at Astarion with tired eyes. “I believe it's high time I took a little break from this…” She nudged her head toward the noisy crowd. “Despite the risk of coming across as rude, which I hope you’d be able to forgive me. Not sure you’d understand, but this is… a bit much.”

He paused for a moment. Then looked at her with a rare expression of genuine fondness. “You might not believe me when I say this, but I do. In a way.”

She briefly considered asking what he meant by that, irritated by the melancholic strain in his voice. But then his eyes wandered toward the small group gathered in front of the kitchen tent and his usual, devilish grin snapped back to his face.

“Do let me know if that wizard of yours holds up to your expectations, though. I’d be more than happy to provide, should you turn out to be… disappointed.”

“You have no shame at all, do you?” Ley scoffed and gave him a doubtful look.

“I most certainly do not,” he snickered as she turned to walk away. “And neither should you.”

Ley yawned, not really paying attention where her feet were carrying her. A few seconds later, the voices faded into the background and she looked over the dark, quietly burbling water of the Chionthar. Someone had rolled a log over here, all the way from the campfire.

She wandered toward it, sighing and tugging her cloak closer around herself as she sat down.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and sighed as all that tension built up over the day slowly started fading away.

*

“A tad overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Ley winced and looked up. Gale was approaching from behind, a half-empty glass in hand and a full bottle tucked under his arm.

“Can’t say I blame you, it’s been quite a while since I’ve partaken in any kind of festivities like this myself,” he said, a hint of melancholy in his voice.

She gave him a tired grin. “Just taking a little breather, away from the noise. And yes, it is a bit too much for my taste. Not used to this level of merriment. Or that many people. Or people in general, if I’m honest.”

“Would you mind some company? I can leave you to your ruminations if you’d prefer that, just say the word…”

She shook her head and moved to the side to make room for him. He smiled widely, then sat down, holding up the bottle and throwing her an inquiring look.

“Thank you, but no.” Ley let out a hitched laugh and pointed at the almost empty glass in her hand, “I believe after six years of abstinence one should try to drink with a bit of caution. I’ve had less than one and already feel tipsy.”

Gale hummed thoughtfully and placed the bottle on the ground.

“Six years?” He asked, gaze wandering over her face, “I had presumed you must have been out there for a while, but that is far longer than I would have thought.”

“Well, measuring time out there is a bit of a complicated matter, but I believe it to be six. Give or take a few months.”

He grinned, excited like a little schoolboy. “Oh, I can't wait to hear the story behind all that." Then he paused and cleared his throat. "Provided you’d be willing to share it with me, of course.”

Ley stared at the floor for a moment. Ran a hand through her hair, tucked it behind her ear, and smiled at him.

“You'll hear all of it, probably sooner than later. But it’s a rather depressing tale, really - and a long one. One I’d like to avoid repeating, if at all possible. So maybe it would be best to wait for an opportunity where the others can hear it as well. If they want to, that is.”

“Fair enough,” he gave a considerate nod, cheered at her with his glass, and took a swig. “Perhaps you'd at least allow me one question? Just one?”

“Shoot."

“Better make it a good one then. Let me think…”

His gaze wandered over the river for a moment, then back to her.

“I’d like to know more about that sphere. The one that was embedded in your ship, I mean. What was its function?”

“Oh, that is a good one.”

Ley paused for a moment, pondering her answer.

“You could say it acted as a kind of battery. Filled with excess energy accumulated over the years. Some from surges, like the one I had at the temple, but mostly siphoned from the Thing inside here..."

She tapped against her chest.

"... in less dramatic ways. And just like that Thing it sort of had a mind of its own, capable of understanding and carrying out orders. I even entrusted it with some basic tasks regarding navigation and maintenance. Holding up the shield around the ship for example. Also helped me with the jumps. And of course, acted as an iron reserve, should I myself run out completely.”

Gale looked at her, eyes glinting with barely held-back enthusiasm. When he opened his mouth again, the words spilt from his lips so fast his tongue almost stumbled over them.

“Now that surely would require some sort of vessel, would it not? I've studied its remains in the wreckage, its... shell, for the lack of a better term. Was it already in place when the whole thing was built? Because in that case, its purpose must have been clear from the start. You would have known that you'd create a separate entity, able to act on its own accord. Which reminds me, I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around how it managed to slow down the fall - the ship’s, that is - whilst you were presumable already unconscio-“

Ley chuckled. “Sir, that would be more than one question.” 

He bit his lips and looked at her, humming amusedly.

“You’ll have to forgive me, my curiosity tends to get the better of me,” he paused to finish his glass and reached for the bottle. “It still feels a little strange… being able to engage in proper conversation with you. Not in a bad way, I haste to point out, quite the opposite, but strange nonetheless.”

“Oh, believe me - the feeling is mutual.” She giggled, then threw him a cautious glance from the side. “Hope you're aware that you're not off the hook just yet. I've got about a thousand questions lined up in my mind, about well… everything. And I’ve yet to learn your letters. I can’t even read, for heaven’s sake, you have no idea how embarrassing that feels…”

Gale looked at her, smiling in an oddly endearing way.

“I'd like to propose a deal.” He poured himself another glass. “Stories from your travels in exchange for my continued tuition. Would that be an agreeable arrangement?”

“So, I'm back to being a student again. Great.” She laughed, then cleared her throat. “Alright, then. Seems I have no choice.”

“Marvelous.” He grinned into his glass, then turned back to her. “There is one other matter, however, that should probably be addressed as soon as possible...”

Of course.

Their trip to the temple and all the ensuing fights felt like something that happened days ago. Not this very morning. Only been a few hours since she had committed all those… atrocities, and had done so in front of their eyes, unable to control both her own fury and the unhinged ferocity of that Thing now slumbering somewhere at the back of her mind.

“I believe I'd like to take you up on your earlier offer,” she murmured and held up her glass.

He didn’t comment, just picked up the bottle and leaned closer to pour the wine.

Ley sipped at it, carefully at first, then took another, big swig.

“Right,” she sighed, swallowed and took a deep breath. “I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am you had to see that. Such an awful display of needless cruelty, all of it. I was… still am… quite disgusted by myself, honestly. Even if the results were undoubtedly worth it-”

Gale’s chuckle cut her off. He shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant.”

She threw him a confused look and he cocked a brow in response.

“You do remember you nearly set yourself on fire, yes?” His tone was slightly irritated. “Ley, you were burning up from the inside.”

“Oh, you mean that…?” she threw back her head and laughed heartily. “Well, technically I wasn’t burning. I was melting.”

Gale's brows rose to his hairline. He stared at her with utter disbelief.

“That probably looked far worse than it was, Gale. A fairly normal surge. I’m used to those. That's just what happens when I’m agitated as I happened to be back there. Or, well, get wounded. Or get a little too enthusiastic with the casting. Not much I can do about it.”

“You must be joking,” his tone was deadly serious. “Your ears were bleeding, for heaven’s sake! Is this bound to happen every time you cast a spell?”

“No, no… not every time...” Ley blushed, embarrassed at the notion. Rotating the wineglass in her hand, she tried to come up with a suitable explanation. “Look, there are two possible scenarios in which something like that might happen. One being a life-or-death situation like happened to be the case with that ogre.”

Ley fumbled with the fabric of her sleeve. Explaining the next part was a bit more difficult, and would likely sound completely and utterly ridiculous. But then, if there was anyone who'd be able to relate even a little, it was probably him.

“That Thing needs me alive and unharmed. Which means it tends to lash out when it senses me in danger. Has a tendency to tear me apart in the process, which is why I’d rather keep it dormant most of the time. The second condition under which things tend to go sideways is when my reserves run dry. It tries to refill them. Like you just did with this glass.”

She tipped at it with her index finger.

“Which sometimes, it does a little bit too eagerly. Causing it to spill over if you so will. And those two scenarios can occur at the same time, of course. which is precisely what happened today. I believe that is what you would call a surge. Well, at least that’s the only suitable term I can find in my newly acquired vocabulary.”

Gale kept staring for a moment, then nodded hesitantly, letting his gaze wander over the dark water in front of them.

“That certainly would explain some things. Still sounds horrible, the way you describe it. I’ve met a few sorcerers in my time, many of them plagued by similarly wild outbursts of magic. But with you, there seem to be a few additional factors in play that complicate things even further.”

He studied her face with an intensely observant expression, like trying to solve a particularly complicated puzzle.

“I wonder…” he mumbled, eyes firmly locked on hers. “I wonder how many of your talents are directly related to that… blind passenger, as you have so aptly described it this morning.”

She stared at him, completely perplexed.

“What else would they be related to?”

He laughed. “Well, your innate ability to wield magic, naturally. Come now, don’t tell me that idea has never crossed your mind.”

Ley’s baffled expression gave him pause.

“Surely you've considered it at some point,” he continued, one corner of his mouth twitching into a doubtful smirk. “I refuse to believe you wouldn't have noticed being capable of casting spells.”

She didn’t answer, just slowly shook her head. Gale furrowed his brow.

“No teachers who picked up on your talents? No one at all?”

Her eyes darted to the ground and something like embarrassment clouded her features.

“No,” she said quietly. “No teachers.”

“But there had to be-”

“Gale, there was no one who could!” Ley's head flung back up, her expression one of deep, profound exhaustion. “There were no other mages. No magic at all. Only me.”

*

Gale almost dropped his wine.

His mouth fell open and he stared at her for a long moment. Ley fumbled with her sleeve again, visibly uncomfortable, then emptied her glass with one big gulp.

“Wait, wait. Let me get this straight,” he cleared his throat. “Your home, your people. Your… your whole planet. No sorcery, no Weave, nothing even close to it?”

“Not a planet, just a moon,” she looked up again, a tired smile playing around her lips. “And no. Nothing like that. No spells, no enchantments, no curses or blessings. Just oil and grease. What you people get done with magic, we do with the help of machines.”

“Fascinating…” Gale couldn’t help but smile with excitement. He looked down into his glass.

What an idea. What an intriguing, if thoroughly terrifying idea. A whole civilization having to do without what, at least to him, felt as essential as the air he was breathing.

His gaze wandered back to her. Suddenly, a few things made a lot more sense. The fact that he hadn’t heard her make so much as a peep whilst casting. The way she just intuitively flung her magic around like a tool she had no idea how to use.

Then, a question came to mind.

“How long…” He could already somewhat guess the answer and dreaded asking, but this felt important. “How long have you had this… condition for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A little over six years.” She answered without hesitation, her voice barely more than a whisper.

There it was. Gale didn’t want to press further, didn’t want to stir up memories that were undoubtedly unpleasant, if not downright traumatizing.

But he didn’t have to.

“It caused chaos,” Ley explained quietly and looked at her hands. “People died. Many of them. I did not, for some reason. If you think what happened this morning was extreme, let me tell you that was one of the most tame and undramatic surges I’ve had in a while. It used to be so much worse. In the beginning, in the weeks and months after it… attached itself to me. I wasn’t even remotely in control. That came later. Much, much later.”

She gave a shy smile and held out her empty glass.

“So I left. Voluntary exile, you'd probably call it.”

He produced the bottle, almost empty at this point, and poured her some more. His mind was racing, connecting the dots whilst simultaneously trying to think of a way to steer her away from this, toward something more pleasant, something that might brighten her mood again.

“It wasn't my intent to ruin your evening, I hope you know that,” he stated, then refilled his own glass. “Having to leave your home for good… Dear gods, perfectly understandable that you’d prefer not to repeat this tale more than necessary. Apologies for being so insistent. Perhaps we should just leave it at that for the time being.”

Ley sighed with relief. Then she shuffled closer and nudged her arm against his.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

A feeling of warmth spread through Gale’s guts. Maybe that was just the wine talking. Or maybe she just happened to be the kind of person who didn’t have reservations about touching others in a conversation.

Might be a cultural thing, he thought.

Or maybe she was simply craving to be touched, having spent such a long time alone in the void. Which sounded more likely, but then again, she wasn’t like this with any of the others. Not to his knowledge, at least. 

His mind trailed back to the evening prior. When they sat on that stone in the clearing nearby, her head on his shoulder, one hand on his chest. So close he could count the freckles on her nose.

“My turn with the questions.”

Ley's voice ripped him from his thoughts.

“Go ahead,” he smiled down at her.

“You said something about an innate ability to wield magic,” she said and looked up from her glass. “Is that the way things usually go around here? Some genetic factor that unlocks those kinds of talents?”

Gale chuckled.

“Not necessarily. Although it makes things considerably easier. Certainly has in my case. Even though it can be a bit of a curse, depending on the situation and well… your age. You wouldn’t believe just how many times I’ve set my bedroom on fire as a boy…”

He laughed heartily.

“Oh, the stories my mother could tell… But never mind that. Back to the topic of your question - no. There are no set requirements. Other than years and years of arduous study, for those who want to master this particular form of art. The most compelling, wondrous one there is, in my humble opinion.”

He threw her a quick glance from the side. She was smiling again, twirling the glass between her fingers.

An idea formed in his mind.

“I’d like to propose something,” he stated and scrambled to his feet. “A little experiment, if you so will.”

Ley looked up at him, brows quirked.

“You want to head back?” She said, visibly displeased by the idea. “Already?”

“No, no...” Gale chuckled and reached for her hand. “I was hoping to show you something. If you’d allow me.”

She took his hand and pulled herself up, a little too enthusiastically, causing her to bump into his shoulder and spill half her wine into the sand.

“Pardon me,” she mumbled and her cheeks flushed pink. “Three were maybe a little too much…”

“No need to apologize,” Gale grinned, then gave her a slightly worried once-over, waiting for her to find her footing again. “But if you want to call it a night, just say the word and I’ll escort you ba-”

“No,” she replied without hesitation, eyes glinting with excitement. “I do not.”

Alright then, he thought and smiled at her for a moment that might have been a little too long. Marvelling at those tiny specks of gold in the green of her eyes.

“What did you want to show me, Gale?” A finger poked against his chest.

“Right…” he shook his head, still smiling as he gestured for her to follow him further down the river. “This should be a good spot. Bit more room to stretch one's legs. Now, I was wondering…”

He took a deep breath and placed his glass on a nearby stone, then plucked hers from her hand and put it down as well.

“... if you might want to give it a try yourself. Maybe I can show you how it feels to channel a form of magic that doesn’t melt you in the process.”

Ley snickered. “And you’re sure I can?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied in a tone that didn’t leave room for debate. “Accessing the Weave should be rather easy for you, as long as you’re getting the verbal and semantic components right, which I have no doubt you will. As for the rest - you might not have my years of experience, but I can still act as your conduit. Open the door for you, if you so will.”

“Weave…” She repeated quietly and gave him an inquiring smile. “I’ve heard that term a few times now, but I’m still not quite sure what it means.”

“It…” Gale paused for a moment, unsure how to answer.

How could he possibly explain something so abstract, so grand and all-encompassing, to someone who’d never come in touch with it before? Especially considering he already felt the effect of the wine he had so generously been indulging in? And, judging by the slightly hazy look in her eyes, Ley did as well, which meant that the usual sermon he’d very much like to give on the topic probably wasn’t that good of an idea right now.

“... It’s everything. The very fabric the universe is made of, the strings of creation that hold the world together,” he said quietly. “It’s… my life. There’s nothing to compare it to, nothing that comes even close.”

Ley looked up at him with an expression he didn’t quite know what to make of. Then her smile widened and she took a step closer.

“What do I do?”

There was so much pure, unbridled enthusiasm in the way she looked at him that Gale's heart bubbled over with excitement.

“Just follow my lead,” he said and stepped to her side.

The semantic component wasn’t even remotely a problem. She copied the gesture perfectly and without hesitation. The verbal component, on the other hand, felt a bit awkward. She squinted her eyes, repeated the arguably long and complicated incantation with a slightly timid smirk - but she didn’t make any mistakes, and that was what mattered in the end.

Within but a moment, they were dipped in the eerie, purple glow he was so intimately familiar with, surrounded by the calming scent of rosewater. A soothing feeling of warmth spread through his insides.

“Very good,” he commended, then smiled at her approvingly. “Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony, as true as you can.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Looked at him in uneasy anticipation for a second, before her expression turned into one of awe and wonder.

There it was. The slow hum, vibrating in his ears, the prickling sensation of magic tickling against his skin. And then he sensed Her presence, gently caressing the mind of the woman in front of him, welcoming her like a mother would with a long-lost child. A wave of bitter resentment threatened to roll over him but dissipated the very moment he looked into Ley’s wide-open eyes, visibly overwhelmed by the flood of sensations she just experienced for the first time.

Gale couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“You did it,” he affirmed proudly, grinning from ear to ear, “You’re channelling the Weave. How does it feel?”

She swallowed hard, eyes ripped wide open as if she wanted to commit every last bit of this moment to memory, then gave him one of the most radiant smiles he had seen from her so far.

“Wonderful,” she stated quietly. “Not threatening at all… As if I belong here. As if I’m wanted, exactly where I am. Feels like coming home.”

An almost melancholic expression took hold of her features.

Something about the way she said that tugged at his heart, at an invisible cord that threatened to snap if he didn’t allow it to pull him forward.

Gale didn’t resist, he wasn’t able to, just leaned in closer and saw her do the same. He felt himself moving closer until they were mere inches from each other. And then something brushed against the edge of his mind. It was a soft, tentative sensation, the faintest idea of a touch, similar to what he had felt in the clearing on the evening prior. His thoughts snapped back to that feeling of warmth, filling his chest as her hand came to rest over his heart.

Bright green eyes gazed into his own, both right in front of him, as well as in the fragment of that memory which now swapped back into his mind. He saw her pupils grow wide, her mouth opening the slightest bit. There was nothing he wanted more than to get lost in this moment, to let go and close that distance separating his lips from hers.

And for a brief moment, he did.

Not physically, not with the body that stood here on the side of the river. But in that memory, in that daydream that hadn’t let go of him for almost a day now. There, his mouth descended on hers, and he felt Ley’s arms wrap around his neck, melting into the touch as he dragged her against himself. She clung to his lips like a woman starving and he responded with equal ferocity, fingers caressing the side of her face and her neck, wandering to the small of her back as she pressed herself against him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a hand move. His hand, slowly reaching for her face, and he felt his heavy breath mix with her own. Realizing what he was about to do, a wave of embarrassment rolled over him as he yanked himself back into reality.

“I… forgive me,” he stammered. “I didn’t think…”

Ley looked at him and blinked, cheeks flushed the deepest of reds.

“That… ahm…” her voice was hoarse and she turned sideways, trying to hide behind the loose strands of hair that hung over one side of her face. “I’m… I’m sorry Gale… I didn’t mean to…”

“I wasn’t expecting…” he tried to look into her eyes, now half-covered by that blond curtain. Saw anxiety creeping over her features, and fingers that nervously kneaded into her cloak. 

The only thing worse than the overwhelming feeling of trepidation was to know that she felt it too. Maybe even more than him. After all, he had been the one who lured her here, exposed and unaware of the sudden connection that had formed without her consent, without her having the faintest idea of what was about to happen. And all of that whilst under the influence of the wine he had handed her so willingly.

“Please, there’s no need to apologize,” he spluttered, “forgive me, this… this was entirely my fault.” Then, on a whim, he added something else, hoping to disperse any feeling of doubt or shame, which simply had no right to cloud her thoughts.

“... But it’s a pleasant image, to be sure.”

Regretting his straightforwardness immediately, Gale scrambled his mind for something else, something that would dissolve the tension in her expression, give her back as much control, as much self-esteem as possible.

“Most pleasant, in fact,” he heard the words fall from his lips before he had the chance to do anything about it. “Most welcome.”

A moment of awkward silence passed.

To his surprise, and his relief, Ley just chuckled quietly, then smirked into the collar of her cloak.

Then, too fast for him to react, she tiptoed closer and pressed a kiss to the side of his chin.

He froze.

Flabbergasted and completely unable to move a muscle, he heard her mumble a few words against his skin.

“Goodnight, Gale.”

He watched her as she left toward her tent, eyes glued to her back until the moment the flap closed behind her.

It took him a few seconds to regain his composure. Then he rubbed both hands over his face and drew a sharp breath. He cursed internally, scolded himself for pretty much everything he had said and done this evening, then turned toward the camp himself, the two glasses of wine long forgotten and abandoned on the stone at the side of the river.

Things had gotten quiet by now, only a few of the revellers were still up and about, stone-drunk and stumbling about, searching for a place to lay their heads

He didn’t notice Nori’s waving, the halfling, Karlach and a handful of the tieflings still awake and huddled around the fire. Astarion snickered somewhere nearby, undoubtedly in his direction, but he blended him out.

Falling onto his bedroll, Gale tried to get a grip on his spinning mind.

What the hells was he doing, what was he trying to accomplish with this hopeless fixation on a woman he had known for less than a tenday?

Even if her interest was real, genuine - more than a kiss on the cheek on a night like this would imply, considering she probably had way more wine in her system than she initially intended to drink - he wouldn’t be able to give her what she deserved. Not while that horrid abomination was lodged in his chest. Not in the pitiful shape he found himself in. That he had been in for over a year. 

There was absolutely nothing he could give her. Not now, not ever. 

Some things were possible. Even the unlikely scenario of their troupe figuring out a way to get rid of those squirming abominations in their head had a slight chance of becoming reality.

Other things were not.

Part of him wished she would just run off with one of the others. Maybe the vampire, who had made his intentions so abundantly clear.

That way he might just be able to put this impossible idea to rest, so wipe this persistent daydream from his mind and focus on the things that were actually within reach.

Chapter Text

Revivify

*

A faint wheezing sound escaped the kettle. She felt gentle hands squeeze her shoulder, ordering her to stay seated.

Nori watched, as nimble fingers maneuvered the steaming pot from the stove and set it down on the trivet in the middle of the table. Her offer to help was cut off with a featherlight kiss, so she simply sank back into the soft cushions she had been so firmly pushed down to a moment ago. Resistance was futile, and she knew it. But that wouldn ’t keep her from trying anyway.

Plates were placed on the table, one between her hands, the second one in front of the chair next to hers. Others, laden with bread, cheese, and freshly picked berries, assembled around them a moment later. What little space was left, filled with a colorful assortment of jars full of jams, honey, and butter.

The oven door opened with a quiet creak. Then, the heavenly smell of freshly baked bread reached her nostrils, mixing with the other, equally appetizing ones from the table, as well as the faint scent of drying herbs that hung from the kitchen ceiling.

She heard the crust crack as the bread was cut into thick, fluffy slices. For a moment, she closed her eyes, inhaled the myriad of comforting, familiar scents, then opened them again and let her gaze wander around the kitchen. It was early, the dusky twilight only disturbed by a single, golden ray of sunshine falling through the window right next to her.

Carefully trying to prevent any sound that could give away she dared to lift a finger, Nori reached for the kettle and filled both their cups, the silent blubbering of tea thankfully muffled by the sound of Ellie ’s knife as it carved through crumbling bread.

Before she could set it down again, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, her gaze was met with raised eyebrows and a chiding smirk. The breadbasket wandered in her direction and she placed the teapot on the trivet before taking a few slices. Smiling at her adoringly, she watched as her wife sat down on her chair.

This was home. She was with her, she was safe, nestled in warmth and comfort.

And yet, something felt a little off.

“Sweetie, you do know I love every bit of what you’re doing right now, and heavens forbid I’d ever criticize you for any decision you make regarding breakfast but…” She asked, eying the still whistling teapot with slight suspicion. “…is there any particular reason you went for tea instead of coffee today?”

The noise got even louder. That didn ’t seem right. She already opened the lid and it should be about half-empty, so why was it still doing that?

Ellie opened her mouth, but instead of answering, she just looked at her expectantly. Slowly, and without making a sound, she reached over the table, covering her hand with her own. She was waiting for something, but Nori wasn ’t sure what, so she just stroked her fingers in uneasy anticipation until…

A loud clank ripped her from the fading dream. And the kettle was still shrieking.

It took some effort to force open her eyes. Reluctantly blinking away the haze on the edge of her vision, she grumbled at the sun that dared to shine directly into her face.

“Crap.”

That was a woman’s voice, coming from somewhere close by.

Nori tried to lift her head, gritting her teeth as she felt her skin peel away from some unidentifiable, sticky substance covering the table right where her face had been.

Aside from the fading sound of the whistling teapot, the camp was relatively quiet.

Unusual, this time of day, she thought and threw another, slightly suspicious glance at where the sun stood in the sky. Then, some fragmented memories from the previous evening managed to crawl back inside her foggy mind.

She remembered Alfira stumbling over her feet, giggling as she caught herself on the shoulder of her equally drunken friend, moments before both of them toppled over and plunged to the ground. There was Bex, retching behind a bush at the edge of the clearing, supported by her incredibly tired-looking husband. She remembered Gale, impatiently tapping a finger against his wineglass whilst firing deadly, razor-sharp glances over at Astarion, who pranced around-

“Didn’t mean to wake you, apologies…”

She turned her head. Sitting on the ground in front of the campfire, legs crossed and trying to maneuver the pot away from the flames, was Ley, an apologetic grin on her face as she looked in her direction.

Nori groaned quietly and climbed down from the bench.

On wobbly legs, she stumbled over to her, for some miraculous reason managing to not trip over her feet in the process.

“M’rning,” she mumbled and let herself fall on the log behind her. “Anyone else up?”

“Does Scratch count?”

“Hrmpf.” Nori rubbed her face with both hands.

Squinting her eyes, she tried to get her blurred vision to steady. It didn’t help. She was still seeing double and even the considerably simple task of sitting upright felt almost impossible to do. But then there was a nice, inviting pair of shoulders right in front of her, just within arm’s reach.

“C’mere,” she grunted and leaned forward.

Ley chuckled as small arms wrapped around her neck and dragged her toward the halfling’s chest. She robbed backward a little, until her back met the log, then clutched Nori’s  hands with hers.

“That bad, huh?”

“Mhm,” Nori replied, plunged her head between her shoulder blades, and nuzzled her nose into her hair.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler,” Ley snickered, then turned her head toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Tea?”

Nori replied with an approving hum.

Her head was spinning. Or maybe her head was fine and the world was spinning. She wasn’t sure. What she was sure of, was that her stomach felt entirely too empty for her to deal with this kind of hangover. And she really needed Gale to get his arse out of bed and conjure up something that could quiet down those awful, rumbling sounds emanating from her belly.

Ley leaned forward, earning herself a discontented grunt in response, then back again and nudged a steaming mug between her fingers.

“Careful. Hot.”

Nori leaned back slowly, hoping she’d be able to avoid spilling anything on Ley’s arms as she straightened up and brought it to her lap, then closed her hands around it, basking in the soothing warmth spreading through her fingers.

Ley poured a cup for herself and a few minutes of silence passed as they waited for the tea to cool down.

Somewhere in the background, the first signs of life emerged from the other tents.

By the time Nori took the first, careful sip, the world had ceased its spinning and her mind cleared up a little. Enough to return to the image of her wife, sitting at the kitchen table next to her, and the fear that had been gnawing away at her insides ever since the day she woke up in that blasted pod.

She sighed.

Ley looked over her shoulder, then robbed backward again until she sat right next to Nori’s knees. For a little while, both of them just stared into the flames.

“Had a weird dream just now,” Nori said after a moment. “I was home. Wife made me breakfast.”

“Doesn’t sound weird to me at all,” Ley stated. “Sounds pretty good actually.”

It had been good, Nori thought, swallowing back the lump that threatened to clog her throat. Just too short. Way too short.

“What’s it like?” A smile graced Ley’s features when their eyes met. One that was full of genuine kindness and sympathy. “Back home. Being married.”

Nori gave a quick, hoarse laugh.

She quickly pondered if this called for a polite, yet superficial answer, just to put the matter to rest before things could get uncomfortable, but then that was precisely the kind she hated to hear herself. Besides, Ley had been nothing but straightforward so far and something told her that in this case, small talk would be met with way more apprehension than the blatant, ugly truth.

“Normally I’d have a lot of things to say about being married. The vast majority of them outrageously sappy, as you might imagine. But right now, the only one I can think of is… dreadful. Just dreadful. Not knowing if she’s alive or not. Wondering what might have happened to her after the nautiloid came down on us.”

She twisted the mug between her hands.

“They took me just a few streets away from where our house was… well, where it hopefully still is. And I blacked out, the very second they snatched me. So I’ve no idea what became of her. Or the rest of the town for that matter. After all, they could have taken her as well… maybe they did, and I just don’t know.”

There was no reason for further explanation. This was more than enough to paint a picture of what occupied both her dreams and waking mind whenever she had a minute to herself.

She threw a look to the side, studying the face next to her.

Ley watched her through half-closed eyelids, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. She seemed tired, but not necessarily the kind of tired caused by a night of heavy drinking.

The exhaustion on her face was one of someone who had been on the run for a long time, much longer than any living soul should be. Like someone who was so far away from home, she’d probably forgotten what it looked like. And might have given up hope on ever seeing it again entirely.

After all, Nori thought, the girl has fallen from the sky less than a tenday ago, on a ship with her being the only passenger.

Even though she managed to survive the fall, be that through divine intervention or simply because her weirdly independent kind of magic had found a way to protect her, she’d been impaled on a metal rod three times her size and been stuck in a cage shortly thereafter. And until yesterday morning, she hadn’t even been able to engage in proper conversation. 

Nori shuffled closer, her leg now nudging against Ley’s shoulder.

“How ‘bout you, honey, how are you doing? Suppose you’ve been thinking about finding a way back, eh?” She said softly, then chuckled. “Pretty shitty situation you stumbled into here… Stuck with a bunch of strangers that drag you from one bloodbath to the next, terrible accommodations, not to mention the lack of sanitary facilities…”

For a moment, Ley stayed silent and stared into the flames.

When she replied, her voice was quiet, but firm.

“I have, but I’m not sure it’s possible. And I’m not so sure I want to. If I’m completely honest.”

It took Nori a second to digest that information. Then she rubbed her eyes and straightened up.

“I mean…” she wasn’t sure how to react, once again realizing that there were still so many unknowns when it came to this woman. “I just assumed you must be homesick, at least a little…”

“Oh, I’ve been homesick for years now, that’s not the point,” Ley leaned backward, shrugged, and gave her a weak smile. “Thing is, even if I’d manage to find a way back to where I was, the chances to actually get back to my homeworld are pretty close to none. And the idea of spending more time in the dark with no one to talk to doesn’t sound particularly enticing. So why not just… stay here? At least for a little while?”

She swallowed, looked to the floor, then back into her eyes.

“Besides, I somehow don’t see myself building another ship whilst you guys are running around with those… things in your head.”

Nori snorted out a laugh.

“Right, somehow I keep forgetting you don’t have one,” she absentmindedly lifted a hand to ruffle Ley’s hair, instantly regretting doing so as she saw the disheveled mess she caused.

“Gods dang it!” She scolded herself. “Wait, I can fix that. Fingers might not be the steadiest at this point, but I can manage a simple braid… I hope.”

Ley just giggled into her tea, quirked a brow as Nori shuffled behind her and set her mug aside.

The rest of the camp seemed to be up and about by the time she had opened the tie at the tip of Ley’s braid and untangled about half of the knots in her hair. Low voices reached them from behind, and after a little while, they saw the first, slightly disgruntled faces emerge from their tents.

“What’s up with those two? Did something happen last night?”

Nori followed Ley’s gaze to where Lae’zel stood in front of her tent, busy donning her armor whilst throwing hateful glances over in Shadowheart’s direction. The cleric glared back at her for a moment, then demonstratively turned a cold shoulder and knelt down for her morning prayer without paying any further attention to the githyanki.

Right. Not everyone had been around for that.

It must have been close to midnight when Shadowheart, who had been keeping to herself for most of the evening, her only company that of a few bottles of wine, set her mind on paying the githyanki a visit over at the small ruin next to the camp.

Naturally, Lae’zel didn’t approve of anything the evening had to offer, and had made abundantly clear how little she thought of wasting time with idle revelry. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to stop her from bickering and staring every tiefling that dared to approach her into the ground. And even though Nori somehow managed to get a glass of wine in her hand, even got her to drink it - though that felt like more of a task than something she did for recreational purposes - she left soon thereafter. To train, or at least that was what Nori figured at that time.

And she had been right, that much was clear as soon as she and Wyll stuck their heads in the stone doorway of the ruin and saw her and Shadowheart engage in what had to be their most heated argument yet.

Within seconds, both sides were shouting and moments later, they had to forcefully drag them apart, trying to prevent them from cutting each other’s throats.

“Yeah, you missed quite the dramatic scene there…”

From the corner of her eye, she spotted purple robes and was suddenly reminded as to why Ley had not been around to witness that.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” she smiled and leaned over her shoulder. “But… I’ve been wondering where you and Gale have been that whole time. The two of you were gone for a while…”

What she didn’t feel like mentioning, was the fact that there may or may not have been a few bets placed on their whereabouts and the potential outcome of the evening. Which she herself had deemed quite a bit too early, and judging by the devastated expression on Gale’s face, once he returned to his tent - alone, mind you - she had probably been right.

“We… uhm,” Ley mumbled, turning her face toward Nori’s, and away from the approaching wizard. “We talked, a lot. Mostly about magic. About the differences in what he and I are drawing from. And I got… a brief introduction to the Weave. Yes, I believe that describes it well enough.”

Talked, Nori thought and tried to suppress a grin. Of course, you talked.

She buried her fingers in the gush of hair in front of her yet again, carefully pulling them through to untangle what was left of the knots, and lifted her head.

“Morning, you,” she exclaimed, then snickered internally as she saw Gale slow down mid-walk and blush at the sight of blond waves, framing Ley’s face and rolling over her shoulders in a thick, shiny cascade.

To her disappointment, it didn’t take him more than a second to regain his composure and put on a jovial, way too confident grin, just in time before Ley looked up.

“Good morning indeed,” he cheered and descended on the log across the fire. “Don’t mind me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Nori squinted at him and smirked, her fingers now collecting Ley’s hair, splitting it into three thick strands.

“Things got a bit heated between our resident cleric and the gith,” she said. “The topic being the stupid Prism again. Surprise, surprise.”

“Ah,” Gale nodded patiently, not surprised in the least.

“That happened before?” Ley asked, turning her face and raising a brow.

Nori reached for her cheek, gently tilting her head back forward.

“It has indeed. You see…” she sighed, trying to figure out a good way to explain the animosities between those two without getting into too much detail.

“I know about the Prism, Gale already filled me in on that,” the young woman added and the wizard nodded again. “But why are they fighting over it?”

“Oh, well,” Nori exhaled sharply, her gaze firmly fixed on the braid that now slowly formed between her fingers. “That thing originally belonged to the gith, at least that’s what we’ve been told. And technically, Shadowheart’s people stole it from them. Not that I’m complaining, it’s the sole reason we’re still here and haven’t sprouted tentacles, after all.”

“Can’t exactly blame her,” Gale stated, poured himself a cup of tea and threw Ley an appreciative glance. “Lae’zel that is. For inquiring after the why and how. Even though she could probably try doing so with a tad less aggression.”

“That reminds me,” Ley said, pointing at the massive chunk of dark wood that still leaned against the side of the gith’s tent. “Is there a reason she decided to rip out a part of my ship? Any idea what she intends to do with it?”

“Who knows,” Nori chuckled. “Maybe she wants to build one of her own.”

There must have been some kind of question written over Ley's face because Gale smiled and pointed in Lae’zel’s direction. “Her kind are quite versed at travelling the Astral Sea themselves, you see… Or the void, as you call it.”

An excited little gasp escaped Ley’s lips and she whirled around, mouth agape as she stared at the gith. Nori cleared her throat, tutting as she gently nudged her back into place and finished the last few inches of her braid, then tied it with the small leather band she had temporarily stashed in her pocket.

“Really wish I could simply read up on things like that,” Ley muttered, then threw Gale an inquiring look.

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” he replied with a soft smile. “Let’s see that we get this day over with and then, we’ll head straight into it.”

A thought crossed Nori’s mind.

“You know what…” She mumbled, hopped down from the log and then patted Ley on the shoulder, gesturing for her to get up as well. “Think I just had somewhat of a brilliant idea. Come on, let’s see if this works.”

She grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the big chest on the far side of the camp. Ley giggled, almost stumbling over her feet as she tried to keep up.

Nori chucked up the lid, then leaned deep inside until only her rear and legs stuck out, both hands rummaging through its contents. “No… not this one,” she muttered under her breath, “I know you’re in here, come on now, where…”

Ley stood at the side and watched her curiously, quickly waving at Shadowheart who had just finished her morning prayer and decided to come over and see what all the fuss was about, throwing Nori’s butt an irritated glance whilst she approached.

“Morning,” she said. “Is there something specific you’re looking for? Need any help?”

A muffled cheer came from inside the chest. Nori threw up an arm, fingers clutched around a small, dark slate, engraved with a confusing pattern of runes. She wiggled her hand in their vague direction and Shadowheart plucked the thing from her fingers. With a doubtful frown, she turned it from one side to the other.

“I really don’t think-“

“Remember how much flak you guys gave me for picking these up?” Nori cut her off, still shoving items of all sorts from one side of the chest to the other. “Calling it a ‘hoarding problem’ and the like? Well… it’s almost as if I knew they’d come in handy at some point, huh? Now where are the other ones…”

Shadowheart's brows raised to her hairline and threw Ley an amused glance, then shrugged and handed her the slate.

Ley held it between two fingers, eying it cautiously for a moment, then looked back up at the cleric, her mouth forming a silent ‘Is something supposed to happen?’Shadowheart shrugged again and grinned even wider.

They heard steps coming from the other side and turned around to see Lae’zel approach, cocking her head as she disparagingly observed Nori’s efforts. Shadowheart let out an annoyed sigh and looked the other way.

“A futile effort,” the gith remarked dryly as she came to a halt before Ley and tipped against the tablet with one sharp claw. “The link may only be established between those connected to the mind flayers. A means to store information for the ghaik and their thralls. Unreadable for those not part of the hivemind.”

“Are you serious?” Nori exclaimed loudly and ripped up her head. She had four more tablets in her hands, all of them now clanking against the bottom of the chest. “Come on…”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Ley grinned and threw her tablet in with the others. “And here I thought I should consider myself lucky for not having a tadpole, but hey, what do I know?”

“But it’s annoying,” Nori huffed, then raised her hands in frustration. “Can I not just… lend you mine for a moment?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” Ley laughed. Shadowheart snickered next to her.

Nori snorted out a hefty curse, then threw the lid of the chest shut and turned around, only to find herself covered by the hulking shadow of the elf that had somehow managed to walk up to them unnoticed.

“I’d firmly advise against handing out more of those parasites if it’s all the same to you,” Halsin chuckled and peered down at her with a wide smile. “There’s more than enough of them going around as it is.”

“How exactly does a guy your size sneak up on people that easily?” Nori huffed and stemmed her hands into her sides, forced to crane her neck to look into his face. “Or is that just because you’ve been avoiding everything that might have contained even a smidge of alcohol last night?”

“Judging by the time it took you to take note of me,” he laughed, then sat down on top of a nearby crate. “I’d say the matter is more likely caused by that mind-boggling number of drinks you somehow managed to get down without regretting it minutes later.”

He threw a glance at Nori, then the others, and smiled.

“I trust everyone has enjoyed their evening? After all you’ve been through, it was well deserved.”

“We most definitely did,” Nori nodded.

“Some more than others, it would seem,” Ley mumbled and stole a glance in the direction of Lae’zel and Shadowheart.

“It may be quite some time before you are afforded another such night, and there is much to be done in the meantime. Now, I believe I’ve offered my help if I remember our conversation from last night correctly.”

“Yes, I do recall you saying something in that regard, now that you’re mentioning it,” Nori smiled and gestured for him and the others to follow her back to the fire. “How about you fill us in during breakfast before we head out to face the next horror still on our list…?”

*

Ley watched, frozen in horror as the man turned around, his face contorted into a mask of sheer hate.

She saw the muscles in his shoulders work, saw him lean backwards as he prepared for another, deadly strike. The fur on her paws was soaked with the blood of the dead halfling lying at her feet, her claws still stuck in the flesh of her neck.

“GET DOWN!”

Karlach’s scream ripped her out of her paralysis. She ducked and jetted to the side, just in time to avoid the razor-sharp edge of the sword now hurling through the emptyness right where her head had been just a moment ago.

The tiefling’s unearthly warcry echoed from the walls, shaking the entire room as she leapt over the lifeless halfling body and sprinted toward him. The paladin tried to parry her advances vigorously, showering her with an endless barrage of insults as he danced further and further back through the room until his back almost hit the wall. He managed to hold her at bay for a few seconds, before ultimately falling victim to her rage, the sword torn from his grasp and clinking as it met the ground.

Karlach mowed him down with a few more, furious swipes, then continued to hack into his lifeless body whilst gritting her teeth. She spat out curses, skin glowing with righteous fury as she channelled the accumulated frustration of ten years into each and every strike.

Ley looked around the room.

Wyll leaned against the wall, wincing as he plucked an arrow from his shoulder. Shadowheart and Nori closed in on him, talking in hushed voices as the cleric summoned a healing spell to her fingertips. Lae’zel and Astarion hunkered down in front of what appeared to be a hatch, likely leading to some kind of basement.

“Did he get you?” Gale’s voice came from her left, causing her to wince instinctively.

His eyes wandered over her fur, worried as he searched for any sign of blood that might be her own. She shuddered, shook her whole body like a dog coming in from the rain, then changed back and straightened up. Carefully, she moved her legs, then studied her hands and forearms.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” she replied quietly, then looked up at him. “At least I don’t feel like he did.”

“Marvelous,” He remarked with a relieved smile. “Good news for a change. But then this one was probably just over too quickly for tossing oneself into the fray as you did at the temple, I suppose.”

Ley chuckled. “I didn’t throw myself into that axe intentionally, I’ll have you know-“

Another furious howl from Karlach cut her off. Then there was a deafening crash, followed by the sizzling sound of scorching wood.

“Sorry, guys…” The tiefling grinned over her shoulder, a violent glint flickering in her eyes. “Gotta let off some steam… Think I’ll just explode otherwise.”

Nori snickered, then grabbed Wyll and Shadowheart by the hand and pulled them out the door.

“How about we give her a little space,” Gale quipped, then lifted a hand to Ley’s shoulder and gently manoeuvred her through the door that led into the adjacent room. “See that we don’t get in the way of… friendly fire.” Crossing the doorway, he raised his head and his face lit up with surprise.

“Now would you look at that…”

Their eyes wandered over shelves upon shelves, filled to the brim with provisions, supply packs, and what appeared to be at least partly intact weaponry.

Ley hummed approvingly, then stepped up to one of the barrels lined up along the opposite wall, not even paying attention to the dead body splayed over the middle of the room.

“This place is a goldmine,” she laughed as she opened the lid and found it filled with a variety of dried meats, “Who would have thought?”

“Well, it used to be a tollhouse,” Gale chuckled, his gaze trailing over the unopened crates and then to the half-open door on the far side. “Though I would have assumed most of its treasures, at least the edible ones, to be spoiled rotten at this point. I suppose these pretend paladins must have stocked up over the last few days. Whilst their quarry was busy frolicking through druid’s groves and abandoned temples…”

He crossed the room, raised an eyebrow, and smiled appreciatively as Ley pulled two mostly unblemished supply packs from one of the drawers. Then he stepped through the door.

“Ha!” She heard him exclaim from outside and threw a glance in his direction, watching as the tail of his robe vanished around the corner.

“Found something interesting?”

Just as the words had left her mouth, she spotted movement on the other side of the door. Saw a hate-filled face scowl at the wizard, eyes gleaming with malicious intent.  And knew exactly what was about to happen.

“Gale?” She barely recognized her own voice, contorted with panic and awfully low, probably too low for him to hear. She turned on her heels, jolted forward, pulse pounding in her ears as she closed in on the door.

Ley’s feet slithered over the floor as she came to a halt, hands clasped around the doorframe, her nails almost bleeding under the sheer force of her grip as they dug into the wood.

The woman grinned at her for a split second and raised her hands.

He didn't notice. He didn't hear. He just kept talking. “Seems to be just another way up, but might be worth a look if we-“

Before Ley was able to do anything, before the words meant to warn him could leave her throat, the spell had been uttered and the air around Gale started to distort into a humming, viciously glinting typhoon.

Within the blink of an eye, blood spurted from a thousand little wounds, painting a pattern of crimson gushes on the purple of his robe.

Ley could barely see, her vision and the way out blocked by a myriad of daggers, swirling and tearing through flesh and wood alike. She didn’t notice the wounds opening on the back of her hands as she tried to take a step forward, opening her mouth in a silent scream as Gale stumbled and fell to his knees, eyes wide open and staring at her in disbelief, then at the woman that stood at the side.

She wanted to yell, to scream for help, but her voice wasn’t hers to command, stuck somewhere behind the lump clogging her throat. Her knees gave in underneath her and all that kept her from falling were her fingers, clutching around the doorframe so tightly she could barely feel them anymore.

When his body met the ground, she heard a whimper and it took her a second to realize it had emerged from behind her own, closed lips.

“What the…” Nori’s voice came from the right, muffled by the hectic thrumming of Ley's pulse. “No, no, no, no, no…”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of Gale’s destroyed face, from the sudden emptiness in his eyes and the puddle of blood slowly spreading over the floor. She barely noticed the faint ‘chink’, as several crossbows fired simultaneously, didn’t pay attention to Karlach’s frantic roar, didn’t turn her head to see the woman almost get cut in half as the axe tore through her and catapulted her into the abyss behind the railing.

There was a quiet thump as her body hit the ground below, to which the cloud of daggers dissolved into nothingness. Ley leapt forward and fell to her knees, hands reaching out but not daring to touch his ripped-apart skin, even though part of her was fully aware that it didn’t matter. That nothing in this world would be able to help him at this point.

“Honey, honey,” small hands grabbed her by the shoulder, gently moving her aside. “Let me see, let me…” Nori cut herself off with an audible gasp.

“Shadowheart!” She screamed and whirled around, her expression one of sheer panic.

“I’m here, I’m right here, let me through,” The cleric dragged Ley away, her chainmail clinking quietly as she hunkered down on Gale’s other side. Her gaze flicked from deep cuts gracing every part of his body to the nearly unrecognizable mess where his left eye used to be.

Ley was pulled to her feet, carefully held by gentle hands as she tried to keep her unsteady legs from giving in again. Wyll mumbled something into her ear, something that was probably meant to be soothing, but she couldn’t make out the words through the overwhelming noise of her own, panicked thoughts. She tried to shake her head, to clear her mind so she could hear what the cleric was saying, even though she knew she didn’t really need to.

The look in Shadowheart’s eyes and the sight of her lips forming a single word as she raised her head again didn't leave room for doubt.

No.

It was then, and only then, that Ley saw, or rather felt, the pulsing blackness emanating from his corpse, twirling and twisting in the vague shape of tendrils that reached out from the glowing circle on his chest, now clearly visible through the fabric of his blood-stained robe.

“Away,” she could hear herself whisper. “Away from him.”

Both women turned toward her and gave her the same, dreadfully piteous look.

“… won’t leave him here, I can promise you that,” Wyll murmured to her left, his voice now fading back in through the foggy haze slowly withdrawing from her mind. “There’s got to be a way to get him back, it wouldn’t be the first time we did something like that, we-“

“No, no,” she said sharply, took a step forward, and gestured toward the twisting shapes. “You need to get away, please, I’m serious…”

“What the in the nine hells…” Nori shuffled to her feet, eyes wide open and glaring at Gale’s body as she moved away. Shadowheart hissed and followed suit, both of them retreating behind Ley and Wyll’s backs.

“The fuck is that?” Karlach gasped from behind them.

“Whatever it is, it smells… rotten.” Astarion’s voice came from behind them. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed and wrinkling his nose as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Carefully setting one foot in front of the other, Ley skulked closer, eying the shadowy shapes with suspicion. She reached out with her mind, carefully weighing her options and trying to feel for the Orb, hoping to get an idea of where its intentions lay right now, and praying not to wake it in the process.

“What are you doing, girl…?” Nori exclaimed anxiously. “Get back here, come on now, you just said it yourself…”

“No need to worry about me,” Ley mumbled, voice barely audible, eyes fixed on the glowing circle underneath Gale’s robe. “I already had the pleasure once before… you weren’t there, when…”

When the two of us were alone in that clearing, she thought and swallowed hard as her eyes fell on the blank expression on his dead face. The face that had been smiling at her so warmly as she placed her head on his shoulder, trying to quench the orb’s hunger. Now what was it he said… It demands magic as a tribute for… not unleashing havoc on him and every other soul in the vicinity. Right? Right.

Ley almost stumbled over Gale’s foot, catching herself just in time before she could trip and fall right on top of him. She tried to pull it together, forced herself not to watch too closely as she knelt beside him, one hand reaching for the hem of his robe, right where the orb pulsed and twisted under his skin. She could feel it squirm in there, wide awake and delighted by the unexpected demise of its host, now slowly chipping away at the shackles that had tied it to the confines of his chest for so long.

Hello you, she thought, remember me?

Something crawled its way through the numbness that had taken hold of her body, like an ice-cold hand, scratching at the barrier that temporarily shielded her from shock and exhaustion. The feeling was strangely familiar, like a particularly unloved family member knocking at the door, demanding entrance. She tried to keep her focus up as best she could, watching the orb, whilst knowing it watched her in return. And something told her that it was very much aware of who it was that dared to come so close to its cage with the warden now suddenly out of the way.

But the most prominent feeling, surpassing its curiosity and the will to be free a thousandfold, was raw, barely constrained hunger.

“… any more of these scrolls?” She heard the end of Wyll’s sentence behind her back, then Nori’s voice as she replied in a hushed tone.

“You damn well know we used the last one of those after the fight with those harpies. And if we had any more of ‘em, we’d have them stored in camp with all the other valuable stuff…”

“What about Withers?” Karlach’s hoarse voice came from further away. “Can’t we ask him to…”

“That would require us to get the wizard back to camp first,” Lae’zel hissed. “Which doesn’t seem like a feasible option with whatever foul curse has taken hold of his corpse right now.”

Ley got down on one knee, choosing to ignore the voices in the background for the moment. Even though she really wanted to ask who that ‘Withers’ character was and what the hell he had to do with Gale. She felt the orb’s pull, the soft, alluring song with which it called for both her and the Thing, which in and of itself didn’t pose too much of a threat - yet. But she’d have to stay on edge, keep her ears open and her eyes peeled for any sign of…

Her gaze flicked toward his face again. She bit her lip, trying to force back the desperate whimper tearing at her throat.

Eyes still locked onto his, she studied the creases at their edges, and the faint, softly glowing purple lines leading down his neck...

And then suddenly heard a strangely cheerful, metallic voice coming from right behind her.

“Well met! I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep…”

Her head began to spin. She briefly pondered the question if this could be some tasteless prank at the expense of either the dead wizard at her feet or herself, but then none of the others would be quite that rude. At least that’s what she hoped to be the case.

Throwing another, incredulous glance at the man lying in the dirt before her, who was clearly still very much deceased, his mouth not moving an inch, Ley turned around, then gasped as she was met with a wide, beaming smile.

“… If you see this manifestation, that means I have prematurely perished.”

“If this is his idea of a joke,” Nori mumbled on the other side of the thing that looked like Gale, sounded like Gale, and talked like Gale. “I’m gonna punch him right back into the Fugue Plane after we scraped his sorry arse from the floor.”

The hologram lifted its index finger in a gesture that, had the circumstances been slightly less dire, would have been hilarious.

“For reasons that cannot be disclosed, it is of vital importance that my death be remedied at your earliest convenience. You may rest assured that I do not speak out of self-preservation alone: many lives depend on my return to the living within the span of two days. ”

The last part was particularly emphasized and Not-Gale’s hand lingered in the air, wiggling two fingers in her direction, then at Nori.

Ley couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or cry in frustration.

“I trust I have made myself clear?”

Chapter Text

Confessions

*

Ley felt like she was wading through a nightmare and with every word from that hologram it became a little worse.

First, there was the simple, yet incredibly disturbing fact that there were two of him: one lying in the dust, face pale and hollow, his eyes wide open, yet completely void of life. Then there was the other one, gleaming with that eerie, enchanted light, happily babbling on about purple seams, flutes, and that ‘little scamp’ of a magma mephit.

Perfectly sensible, she thought. Why wouldn’t you tie your life to four notes on a piece of paper stored within a totally not flammable leather pouch?

Part of her wanted to laugh at the outrageous hilarity of it all. The other part was just tired.

“Now, repeat my instructions back to me, please.”

Nori’s deep, exasperated sigh ripped her out of her thoughts.

“Do I really have to…” the halfling muttered, then inhaled sharply. She looked about as exhausted as Ley felt. “Alright. Seams, notes, flute, names, mephit… did I miss anything?”

“Retrieving the pouch, which would happen to be step one,” said the hologram and smiled its endlessly patient smile. “And next?”

Judging by the tension in her face and her grinding jaw, Nori was about to either burst into mad laughter or have a nervous breakdown.

“Unthreat yellow seam in a counter-clockwise fash-“

“Purple,” Ley said quietly, then scrambled to her feet and walked up to them. “It’s the purple one.”

She was met with a resigned nod from the halfling, and an approving wink from Wyll.

“The purple seam indeed. Then you have access to the letter and the flute. Please continue.”

That nerve-wracking, unwavering smile seemed to be permanently glued to the hologram’s face, not necessarily contributing to the sanity of the other parties involved in the conversation.

Terrible design flaw, Ley thought. Might want to have a word with him about that.

Then she remembered there was a very good chance she might not have a chance to do so. As detailed as his instructions were, plans as silly as this one rarely ended in success. And if It didn’t, well…

She hadn’t even been given a chance to apologize for the last evening, where she had clearly overstepped some kind of boundary with that kiss on the cheek. One she wasn’t sure she understood, considering what she had seen - and felt - during that moment in the Weave, but then again, what did she know about local customs? It was very likely she had made some embarrassing mistake, misread signals like an idiot. Maybe due to the wine. But then one couldn’t blame everything on the wine… even after years of abstinence.

What mattered now, in the unlikely case this whole thing worked out as intended, was to clean up her mess, somehow get rid of that terrible, awkward tension that had seeped into most of their conversations over the last few days, and make sure things like that would never happen again in the future.

Nori pinched the back of her nose with two fingers and sighed.

“Your timing is so incredibly awful…” she mumbled, then forced a half-hearted grin to her lips and looked back at Not-Gale. “Play the notes starting from the… eh… well from one of the corners... I’m gonna saaay… top right.”

“Bottom right.” Ley whispered.

“Quite correct! Listen to your companion. Start at the bottom right corner, and remember to play them clockwise. Next up?”

Nori stared at her for a moment, then made a small curtsy, gesturing for her to take over. Ley didn’t have the energy to argue, just rubbed both hands over her eyes and followed suit. Crossing her arms, she looked up into Not-Gale’s mindless smile.

“The mephit will appear and ask if we know its name. The name would be K’ha’ssji’trach’ash, hope I got that about right.”

“That would be correct! But pay attention to the ‘trach’ part. Chhhh. Back of the throat.”

He demonstrated what he meant by knocking the flat side of his hand against his throat and Ley couldn’t help but chuckle, even though she really didn’t feel like it.

“Best of luck with the protocol, then! May my cold, dead hands soon be refilled with the warmth of life, so they can shake yours in gratitude.”

“Whatever you say, pal,” Nori said quietly and looked at her, then pointed at Gale’s lifeless body. “Please.”

Ley didn’t need to be asked twice.

She stepped over to him, got down on her knees, then reached under the hem of his robe. With gritted teeth, she fumbled around to get the pouch out of the pocket on the inside, trying to ignore the dark tendrils that twirled around her hand, licking and sniffing at her skin like a dog with a particularly tasty morsel.

There it was. A small, red leather pouch with a big, golden knob, tied together by several, different-colored strings. Purple seam, counter-clockwise. The pouch opened, and she pulled out both letter and flute.

Once she had them in hand, she looked at the paper… and sighed. Then she turned around to the others.

Most of them had already left to go and loot the rest of the place, leaving the overly complicated resurrection protocol to her and Nori. Only Shadowheart and Karlach stood next to the halfling, patiently watching both of them from the sidelines.

“I don’t know how to play the stupid flute,” Ley said quietly and looked at the small instrument in her hand, then at the piece of paper in the other. “And I’ve yet to learn your letters. This is… embarrassing.”

“Don’t,” Nori smiled and plucked both items from her hand. “Don’t you even start. Thinking things like that.”

A few moments later, the mephit that apparently went by the name K’ha’ssji’trach’ash materialized in the air with a fiery plop, flapping its crumpled wings a few feet above the ground. Ley didn’t even let it finish its question, just said its name the moment it appeared, to which it laughed, a very raspy, hoarse sound that reverberated in her skull. Then it grinned and waved her closer. She held out the scroll, didn’t flinch for a second as its scorching hot breath engulfed her arm, and turned the scroll into something slightly different.

“M’ul th’ha M’esc. T’i n’uthrantha m’anthra Gale,” was the one thing it said, before it plopped back into the plane it had come from.

“Sure thing,” Ley mumbled, then unfolded the scroll, only to - once again - feel a wave of shame roll over her as she stared at the runes that made about as much sense to her as the confused scratchings on the walls in the goblin camp.

Without a word, she handed it to Nori and averted her eyes. She didn’t wait, didn’t have it in her to watch. Instead, she just headed back inside, hopped up on the table on the far side of the room, and crossed both legs in front of her.

Face buried in her hands, she waited for whatever was about to happen next.

A few words were mumbled, and the sound of what she could only interpret as a successful spell rang through the air.

Then someone inhaled sharply.

Karlach let out an excited squeal, Shadowheart clapped approvingly. Nori squeaked and jolted forward, presumably to drag the wizard down into one of her surprisingly strong halfling hugs.

“My word, you did it!”

A tired smile unfolded on Ley’s lips as she heard Gale panting and laughing as he scrambled to his feet. Moments later, purple robes stumbled into her field of view once the bard let go of him again.

 “Oh, it’s good to be alive! My hands are still cold but that doesn’t seem to bother you in the least. No matter. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you… ”

“Hey, all I did was play some notes,” Nori chuckled and shook her head, then pointed at Ley. “Be thankful she was here, otherwise this might have very well ended in a disaster.”

He whirled around and his lips parted into a wide smile as his gaze met hers.

“The bloody thing was absurdly complex…” Nori continued, rolling her eyes as he lifted a finger to underline his reply.

“Complex, but necessary! Scrolls of True Resurrection don’t grow on trees, you know.”

Ley slid down the table and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Gale took a step toward her, opened his mouth to speak but got distracted by the sound of footsteps closing in from the other room, and then Wyll’s beaming smile appeared in the doorway.

“There he is,” he exclaimed, not the least bit surprised. “Welcome back amongst the living, friend.”

The wizard gave a cheerful smirk, accompanied by a silly little bow.

“Took you long enough,” Astarion scoffed as he entered the room behind Wyll, Lae’zel following closely behind. “Might want to make a few adjustments to those ridiculous instructions, if you expect people to go through that again in the future.”

Things went on like that for a moment, and Ley followed their back and forth with disbelief. He had been lying on the floor less than a minute ago, white as a sheet, blood all over his face. And here they were, bickering as if nothing had happened at all. She felt numb. And a bit cold. The painful lump clogging her throat was still there, and she swallowed hard to get rid of it, but to no avail.

“You just died, Gale.” She said quietly when he returned his attention back to her. “You were dead... And the-”

He crossed the room with two quick steps and before Ley could finish the sentence, his arms closed around her, dragging her against his chest. Whether that was simply to silence her before she could mention the orb, or out of genuine gratitude, she couldn’t tell, and frankly, she didn’t care. For a moment, she just stood there, slightly irritated and unsure how to react as her face got tugged against his shoulder.

For someone who had been a corpse literal seconds ago, the man smelled entirely too good.

He placed a hand on her back, and Ley noticed the slight tremble in his fingers as they curled into her cloak.

“I know we’ve agreed not to waste any more breath on thank you’s and the like,” he rasped into her ear, “but in this case, I hope you’ll forgive me if I make an exception.”

A hoarse chuckle escaped her lips, muffled through the fabric of his robe.

“Thank you.”

His voice was endlessly soft, and she couldn’t help but sink into his embrace a little more than she probably should have. He felt warm. Alive and wide awake, his breath brushing against her ear as he spoke. She could feel his heartbeat, rhythmically throbbing against her chest, which was an incredibly calm, soothing sensation. And a heavy contrast to the angrily writhing thing that moved under his skin right next to it.

The thing that had been glaring at her for minutes now, prowling up and down inside its cage, impatiently waiting for an opportunity to pull her in.

Ley froze in place.

She stood still, anxiously listening to its muffled whispers as they became louder and hungrier, eventually rising to a murmur, dull and thrumming, almost like a second pulse. For a brief moment, she wondered if the others were able to hear it as well, but when she threw a glance over the wizard’s shoulder, they just smirked and kept on talking as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

Gale inhaled sharply as he realized what was happening.

His hand left her back and he grabbed her by the shoulders, almost forcefully yanked her away from his chest.

“Apologies,” he mumbled, gave her a rueful, shaky smile, and slowly turned toward the others. “Seems my condition won’t even accept my untimely demise as an excuse to be ignored. Nori…?” The halfling raised a brow, her eyes flicking from him to Ley with irritation. “You mentioned having stashed away some more items for when the situation calls for it. Which would be the case right about now.”

 “Ah, yes…” Nori nodded and her hand jerked toward her belt. She pulled something out of her pouch, something small and glinting that Ley couldn’t quite see.

Gale had snatched it from her fingers and pressed it against his chest, a pained sigh on his lips as the orb greedily swallowed up its magic.

Seconds later, panic started rising in his eyes.

“Good gods, it hardly had any effect. I… ” His gaze flicked from Ley to Nori, then to the others.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed.

“I suppose this is the point at which I should fill you in on the details of my affliction. As much as it pains me to do so, I can no longer in good conscience leave you in the dark. You have to know what this is. You have to know who I was.”

“No need to worry, Gale,” Wyll said with a patient chuckle. Nori nodded. “You can talk freely. You’re among friends, after all.”

Gale sighed heavily.

“Yes, well… I might just be about to remedy that.”

*

Ley had expected to hear the tale of some malignant curse, maybe a ritual gone wrong, or a spell backfiring some years ago.

At no point had she anticipated something quite so dramatic, and certainly not the other story attached to it, that of him being a wizard prodigy. An archmage. The Chosen of a goddess, whom she could only find very limited information about within the depths of her stolen memories. But then the blank, bewildered expression on the other faces told her all she needed to know.

Gale didn’t spare any details. Even though part of her wished that he would.

As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and yet I wasn ’t satisfied. So I sought to prove myself worthy to her instead.

His words hit her like a slap to the face.

She felt sick. And her head was spinning. The rest of his story reached her ears through what felt like a thick fog and she couldn’t bear to look at his face. Instead, she looked down at her crossed arms, involuntarily revisiting the events of the previous night, and those of the one before. Embarrassment twisted her guts into a tight knot, and her cheeks started to burn.

How had she not noticed what an utter fool she made of herself, in front of all these people? It had been days - mere days - since she’d been given the opportunity to escape her lonely fate, and this was what she’d made of it. A pathetic, pitiful display of misguided hope, nothing more than a naive, childish fantasy.

Should have known better, she scolded herself. An ordinary little grease monkey from the lower city, blindly stumbling from one catastrophe to the next. This is way out of your league, girl. Archmages, alien parasites, mad cultists, all of it.

“… Tsk'va,” Lae’zel’s angry hiss ripped her out of her thoughts. “Did you even consider for a second what would happen if the tadpole got the better of you?”

Gale nodded.

“Every waking moment. Every dreaming moment, too.” He lifted a hand in a gesture of defeat. “But there was no way out. No other option than to keep going and hope for the best.”

“Hope…?!” Astarion snapped. “You’ve been the greatest threat to our lives all this time, and you’re telling us you just twiddled your thumbs, waiting… hoping for a miracle to fall into your lap?”

Nori’s eyes flicked toward Ley.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” She asked softly. “Came in contact with that thing at some point?”

“Yes, we’ve met,” Ley replied, reluctantly lifting her head. “Had the privilege two days ago.”

“Which was likely the reason things didn’t escalate sooner…” Gale added, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “And in a much more dramatic way-”

“Wait, one moment…” Shadowheart chimed in, one hand lifted in Ley’s direction. “This orb consumes magic, right? Am I understanding that correctly - you let it feed on… on her?”

“That’s kinda… fucked up,” Karlach muttered under her breath.

“Not his choice,” Ley replied in a decisive tone before Gale could even open his mouth. “Mine. And mine alone. Don’t you even start.”

“I don’t care whom or what it feeds on,” Lae’zel barked from the side. “What I need to know is how we are going to proceed from here. I assume your insufferably benevolent nature won’t allow for the logical conclusion of expelling him from this group immediately…?”

She looked at Nori. The halfling didn’t say anything, simply responded with a fiercely threatening glare.

“Look, if Gale has to go just because he has some otherworldly nonsense stuck in his chest, then you can kick me out right after,” Karlach remarked and gave the wizard a reassuring grin.

“Not to mention that we’re all more or less guilty of being walking doomsday devices,” Wyll chuckled. “As long as the Prism is within reach, things are going to be fine.”

Lae’zel scoffed, turned on her heels, and left. Astarion shook his head and followed suit. They heard the hatch in the other room open with a squeal, then their quiet mumbling slowly faded away as they climbed down the ladder.

The silence stretched on for a moment before Gale found his voice again.

“I understand this must all feel like a betrayal. Say the word, and we’ll part ways.”

Ley’s heart sunk into her stomach.

Nori stared at Gale as if he’d just insulted her to the bone. She took a step toward him and her forehead wrinkled into a furious frown.

“No one’s leaving.” She huffed angrily and pointed a finger at his nose. “Would you be so kind as to stop wallowing in self-pity? You’re not going anywhere, we’ll deal with this, just like we’ve been dealing with everything else, and nobody’s going to explode in the process!”

Gale laughed - a desperate, helpless sound that caused the anxious knot in Ley’s belly to tighten even further.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that… If you haven’t given up hope, then neither shall I. I’ll find a way to resist, as long as I can. And should I ever feel the orb taking over for good…”

“Not happening!” Nori exclaimed.

Shadowheart’s hand brushed against the halfling’s shoulder.

“Let him speak.”

“… If I ever felt control slip from my hands, I would consume some Midnight Tears and venture as deep into the Underdark as I possibly could, until they cloud my eyes forever. With a bit of luck I’d manage to make it to a mind flayer colony so that when the orb erupts, one loud, last song of vengeance would reverberate through the dark…”

Bile rose up in Ley’s throat. She didn’t want to hear more of this. Her feet moved on their own, hurried over the wooden floor, and out of the room. Someone followed her, carefully placing a hand on her back.

“That won’t happen,” Wyll said quietly. “You know that, right?”

She opened her mouth but the words refused to come out. She threw the warlock a helpless glance, then turned toward the hatch, descending the ladder in one, quick move. On the way down, Gale’s muffled voice reached her ears as he finished the sentence.

“… Which wouldn’t be a heroic end, but coarsely poetic enough in its justice.”

Both Nori and Karlach started shouting at the same time, and Ley could swear she heard her own name being part of whatever it was they yelled at him. A few steps further into the cellar, their voices thankfully faded into the background.

Astarion knelt on the floor, his back turned toward them, hovering over something that seemed to be a pressure plate.

“Makes you wonder if the Mindflayers knew about all this,” he said to Lae’zel, who leaned at the wall, arms crossed, giving Ley and Wyll a quick nod as they approached.

“It’s not usually their way, to acquire that much knowledge about their victims before they take them. They see us as little more than cattle. But in this case…” The githyanki replied, then made a short pause, one armored foot impatiently tapping on the floor. “Given their obvious connection to the cult, I wouldn’t put it past them. In any case, even if they didn’t know beforehand, they would have learned about the orb’s existence through the infection itself. So I suppose their plans must have involved its detonation at some point, one way or another.”

“True, but that’s probably not something you want to tell him to his face.”

Astarion winced at the sound of Wyll’s voice, whirled around, and smiled as he spotted Ley right next to him.

“Oh, hello darling,” he purred, “Are they done sharing sob stories up there?”

Ley stared at him for a moment. Then at the mechanism in front of him and the toolkit on the floor.

“There a reason you’re wasting that much time on a simple pressure plate?” She asked coldly.

“Well,” he replied with a wink, “someone has to deal with-“

She passed Wyll, grabbed one of the small crates piled up on the side of the wall, and chucked it on the device without so much as batting an eye. The trap gave one satisfying click… and that was it.

“There.”

Lae’zel chuckled quietly.

“You knew he could have done that?” Wyll huffed and threw her an amused glance.

“He would have figured it out at some point,” the gith grinned. “I’m sure of it.”

Astarion squinted his eyes at Ley, then the others, cussed and collected his tools. Behind them, Wyll started shaking with silent laughter.

They spent a few moments skimming through chests and barrels, blocked a few more pressure plates, and inspected some torn-apart pieces of armor that lay on one of the shelves.

Then Ley went to take a look at the metal gate on the far wall and a moment later, Lae’zel stepped up to her side.

“I understand the wizard’s condition troubles you greatly,” the githyanki said in an uncharacteristically soft tone. “And while the demise of your mate might be a grim prospect to face, you need to steel your mind for the battles ahead. Clear it from matters you cannot influence.”

My mate ?

A giggle bubbled up in Ley’s throat, and she tried to fight it back down. These were probably the most considerate, empathetic words she had heard come out of Lae’zel’s mouth so far, and if she invalidated her efforts by bursting out in laughter, there would certainly never be any more.

“Thank you… I guess?” she replied instead and raised an eyebrow. “Though he certainly is not my mate... Which doesn't mean I'm not worried, just as the rest of you should hopefully be.”

“No, but…” The gith cocked her head and her eyes narrowed a little. “I was under the impression Gale had engaged in what I thought to be a form of… courtship. Then again, I might be misunderstanding the situation. Most istik customs are still a mystery to me.” Her head snapped to the other side, and a smirk unfolded on her face. “But then I suppose those would probably be just as much of an unknown for you.”

Astarion stepped between them and pushed them away from the door. He snickered and glared at Ley whilst his fingers began to work on the lock.

“Well, if courtship was what he was going for, it clearly backfired to some degree.” His lips parted into an unbearably smug grin. “Which may or may not be related to cultural differences, of course… but I was thinking this might have been a matter of something not working as intended, maybe his magic wan-“

“If you finish that sentence,” Ley gritted her teeth. “I will stake you.”

“Dear gods, no need to kick the man whilst he’s down,” Wyll said in a dignified tone as he came over to them. “He’s one of us, whether you like it or not, Astarion. Besides…. Throwing stones whilst sitting in a glass house yourself might not be the wisest of ideas.”

“Careful, pup…”

With a metallic ‘clink’, the lock flicked open and the door swung to the side.

The elf had visible trouble biting back the undoubtedly spiteful rest of the sentence and Ley saw him grinding his jaw, spotted the malicious glint in his blood-red eyes as he got up and turned toward the warlock.

Could this day get any worse? She thought and leaned against the wall, eyes pressed shut in frustration.

“Any chance we could… change the topic to something a little less sinister?” She stammered quickly, hoping to prevent the situation from getting even more tense for everyone involved - including herself. Her eyes wandered back to Lae’zel, who observed the scene with her usual, impartial expression.

“You know, I meant to ask you earlier,” she addressed the gith, to which she turned her head and lifted a brow. “What did you have planned for that part of the hull you so rudely pilfered from what remains of my ship?”

She gave her a wide grin, to which the warrior’s lips curled upwards the slightest bit as well.

“Should you want it back, you are welcome to take it,” Lae’zel threw her an inquiring, slightly uncertain look. Then her smile got wider as Ley shook her head.

“If you must know, I intended to inquire about its properties with the local blacksmith, but didn’t get the chance to do so before he left with the rest of the refugees. The material is most intriguing. Incredibly sturdy. And likely to make a fine piece of armor, should it be possible to reforge it.”

“Oh, you would need more than a regular forge to change the shape of that stuff,” Ley laughed as they wandered over into the next room. “I’d recommend a kind of heat equal to that of a small sun. Or maybe… “ She scratched her neck and paused for a moment. “… Maybe I can figure out some other way to melt it.”

The gith’s eyes widened.

“Tell me, Ley…” There was a hint of genuine curiosity in Lae’zel’s voice, and she realized that this was the first time the gith had addressed her by name. “Is it common practice for your people to work with materials such as this? Are the other ships in their fleet built in a similar fashion?”

“Oh, there’s no fleet,” She chuckled. “Only one ship. Or well, at least there used to be. But never mind that. How do githyanki build theirs?”

Judging by the way Lae’zel’s face lit up with beaming excitement, that was just the kind of question she’d been waiting to hear.

Chapter Text

Reading

*

The way back to camp was relatively quiet. Which was a blessing because Gale’s head was pounding like mad, and the orb still stirred in his chest, dissatisfied with the meager offering and, despite his best efforts, seemingly reluctant to go to sleep.

He had been his usual smiling, talkative self for quite a while after they had brought him back and he made his confession, both voice and face somehow managing to hold up the facade. Up until the point Ley had stormed out of the room and Nori had started yelling at him.

She had been right, of course. Karlach as well.

He should have told them sooner. To hold out on a secret like this was a betrayal in and of itself, especially thinking back to the messy storm of events that had been the last few days. There had been no shortage of weak moments, from all of them, each and every one met with nothing but kindness and empathy. He should have trusted in that.

The only one he had trusted, even though a little involuntarily, he had thoughtlessly dragged into yet another, potentially dangerous encounter with the orb, exposing her to its hunger for the second time in three days.

She hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes after he was done sharing his story, not even once.

The girl looked like she was about as dead inside as you were a minute ago. Those had been Nori’s words, right after Ley had made her silent exit.

And of course, he made a silly comment about that as well, forced a smile to his face to mask his growing anxiety. Just like he had done in response to Wyll’s kind words, the ones about admiring him for the way he dealt with not one, but two unwelcome visitors.

Mother always told me to be a gracious host. That was his reply.

All of that had been before they left the tollhouse.

Before he had a chance to fully comprehend the severity of his dilemma. Before the realization of what he was about to face rolled over him like a landslide, crushing what little remained of his resolve under its weight and finally wiping the grin from his face.

Now, he staggered over the cobblestone like a sleepwalker in the middle of the night, one hand clutched around his staff, the other perpetually running over either his beard or the aching spot on his chest.

He was juggling ideas, feverishly forming half-baked plans on how to feed the abomination nestled between his ribs, just to throw them overboard a second later.

The quiet voice from the back of his mind, the one that had constantly been reminding him about the ultimate futility of his efforts, now clawed its way forward and claimed his attention. It repeated the same things it had been whispering ever since he opened that blasted book: That this was just another step on the predetermined path to his end and the inevitable catastrophe following it. That this turn of events had been long overdue, that he should consider himself lucky, for being able to prolong his fate for as long as he had.

Now, without the help of magical items to suppress the thing’s hunger, there was only one possible conclusion he could come to, at least for the moment.

He’d have to handle things manually, sleep with one eye open, and never allow his focus to slip, not even for a second. If not for his own sake, then for the people around him, and hopefully long enough so they at least could find a way to deal with the multitude of problems the gods seemed so determined to throw in their path.

It seemed impossible. Maybe it was impossible. Still, he was determined to give him his all. Because frankly, there was nothing else for him to do.

Without a warning, the person in front of him came to a halt and Gale staggered sideways, almost stumbling over Nori, who turned around just in time to dodge his legs.

“Apologies,” he mumbled, slowly blinking his way back into the here and now.

It took him a second to recognize his surroundings.

They were back at camp.

His head started to spin as several people talked over each other, or maybe they had done so the whole time and he’d just been blending them out. Someone said something about taking over the cooking duties, to which he tried to put on a grateful smile, but didn’t quite manage to lift his head.

Wyll put a hand on his shoulder, gently steering him away from the kitchen tent and from the others who remained there, happily chatting as they sorted through the spoils of today’s haul.

“Get some rest,” the warlock said, giving him a worried once-over with his one, red eye. “I’ll come and get you once dinner is ready.”

“You have my thanks,” Gale answered, and he meant it.

Wyll smiled and turned to leave.

When he reached his tent, he sat down in front of it and took a deep, exhausted breath.

The silence was pure bliss. Even though the constant pulsing of the orb was still actively thrumming through his chest, its anger seemed to have subsided somewhat and with that, the tension in Gale’s shoulders started to dissolve, little by little. 

Right now, he wished for nothing more than to be home. In his tower, in his study. To sink into the cushions of his armchair, Tara on his lap and a good book in hand, whilst listening to the quiet crackling of the fireplace.

But home was far away, further than he dared to think about. There was no Tara, and his study was probably covered in a thick layer of dust by now.

And still, there was one thing no one had managed to take from him so far, neither Mindflayers nor the orb, not even the goddess that had so successfully stripped him of everything that Netherese blight hadn’t claimed for itself.

He smiled. Then he reached inside his tent and pulled out a book.

It was the one he had picked up in the Druid’s Grove. ‘Borrowed’ from Nettie, who handed it to him with a wink, fully aware she’d likely never see it again.

The topic wasn’t necessarily related to current affairs, but fascinating nonetheless. A cleric turned physician, mysterious dreams and symptoms, a man, possibly possessed, convinced to be someone else entirely and talking about the throne he was destined to sit upon.

Gale had finished the first quarter just the day before, around the time they had left for the temple, and now, after what felt like mere minutes to him, he had devoured almost everything there was left.

He had no more than a handful of pages ahead of him when he heard footsteps and lifted his head.   

“Thought I’d pay you a visit, but this doesn’t seem to be a good time.”

Ley stood a few feet away, hands in her pockets, nibbling at her bottom lip.

“I take it you’d prefer to be alone?” She asked quietly, eyes darting from the floor to the pile of books, to the side of the tent. Anywhere but his face. “I can come back later, or maybe tomorrow...”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “Have a seat.”

There was a moment of quiet and he felt her gaze on the back of his head as he turned to pull another pillow out of his tent and placed it next to his own, then gestured for her to sit down.

She followed his invitation, crossing her legs in front of her and Gale watched silently as she settled into a comfortable position.

“You scared the life out of me back there.”

Gale looked up in surprise, taken aback by her bluntness and the sincerity in her voice. She studied his face with calm, yet deeply worried eyes.

“What can I say…” He gave her a half-hearted smirk and raised an eyebrow. “… Apologies? It’s not like I intended to go out that way. And I certainly didn’t mean to cause you or the others any trouble, but things got a bit out of hand back there.”

“That’s not necessarily what I meant,” Ley replied softly, still observing him with that intense, uneasy expression. “I mean, yes… that part was absolutely terrifying in and of itself, but you somehow managed to top that with that hologram of yours.”

“How so?” He asked, honestly confused. “I found this way of presenting my instructions rather ingenious if I dare say so myself. A little dramatic, surely, but that’s sort of unavoidable, given the nature of the matter.”

“Gale,” she said in a stern tone, her eyes firmly fixed on his. “If the others hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have stood a chance to bring you back, do you realize that?”

Right, he thought as realization set in. It was easy to forget, given that she now spoke their language as fluently as if she had done so her whole life, that she still wasn’t able to read.

“Well, even if the notes itself didn’t make sense to you,” he said after a brief pause, “you could have just tried around for a bit, there was no set limitation on how often-“

“Gale!”

She cut him off, frustration now clearly visible on her features.

“I’ve never even held a flute, not once in my life! How did you expect any of this to work with someone who doesn’t know the first thing about… any kind of instrument?” Her brows furrowed into a deeply troubled frown. “And even if I had gotten that far, how the heck was I supposed to read the darn scroll?”

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t come up with a sensible reply, so he closed it again. That, for some reason, he had never considered at all.

“I mean, forget about the fact that I’d have stood there like an idiot, completely incapable of doing… well, anything,” she continued, “you’d still be on the ground, and that hologram would have just kept on babbling, and the orb would have… Would have…”

Her rage turned into exhaustion and Gale watched her throat move as she swallowed down the rest of the sentence.

“In that case, you would have returned to the others and brought one of them back to finish the job,” he said softly, leaning closer and trying to put on something that hopefully counted as a smile.

“I know, but still… I’d appreciate it greatly if you could please refrain from dying in the future,” Ley sighed and bit her lip as she looked up at him. “I never want to see that hologram again. Never.”

“I’ll try to make sure you won’t have to… To the best of my abilities,” he chuckled, then his tone got a bit more serious. “But even so, given the situation we find ourselves in, surrounded by danger, facing impossible odds almost every day, we have to face the fact that it could happen again. And if it does, you’ll need to find a way to bring me back. You must. Perhaps find another scroll, or put in a good word for me with Withers. The how doesn’t matter, as long as you find a way to get it done.”

“No more dying.” She stated in a tone that didn’t leave room for debate, then poked a finger at him. “You’re not allowed to. Have I made myself clear, sir?”

He grinned, then nodded obediently.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said, then squinted her eyes and gave him a small, slightly mischievous smirk. “At least not until I’m able to read your silly instructions. Which brings me to the other reason I’m here.”

She lifted a hand and with a flick of her wrist, as well as a snap of her fingers, her book plopped out of the air and she caught it, immediately opening and placing it on her lap.

Gale raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“What?” She chuckled and turned a few pages until she found an empty one. “I’m not going to carry it around manually all the time, and happen to have a knack for portals, in case you hadn’t noticed…”

“Might turn out to be problematic, should you find yourself unable to cast for some reason, don’t you think?”

Gale leaned a bit closer, watching her draw a few, single runes on the paper.

“Agreed. Still, I won’t,” Ley replied. “Way too heavy.”

Which it was, judging by the look of it. Its back was almost as long as her forearm, and the cover was made of thick, smooth leather, framed with bronze trimming and small, elegant ornaments.

“I had a neat little chain for it, back on the ship, one I could hang over my shoulder. But that probably burnt with the rest of my things. Or well, melted. A shame, really.”

She raised her head, gaze trailing off for a second.

“If I could get my hands on some metal, and the right tools…”

“Are you telling me you’re an artisan of some kind?” Gale’s lips curled into a slightly irritated smile. “I took you for something more of a scholar, perhaps a scientist of sorts.”

Ley looked at him, mildly surprised, laughed, and shook her head.

“An engineer, by trade. Artificer, I suppose you’d call it here. Which does, in a way, correlate with what you probably refer to when you say ‘scientist’. But no. I’ve been tinkering for most of my life. Gadgets, machinery, that sort of thing. How else did you think I’d built the ship?”

“You built the thing yourself?” Gale spluttered. “You must be joking.”

She furrowed her brows and smirked, hesitating for a second before she answered.

“Well, of course I did... Though the first version was considerably smaller than the one I arrived with. Just a tiny sloop, really. After that, I had years to plan and expand, don’t forget that.”

He tried to picture her in a small boat, lazily chugging through the sky like a fisherman through the Waterdhavian harbor, and started chuckling.

“That so funny?” She huffed, still smirking. “I’d like to see you try for yourself, my dear high-and-mighty archmage, go ahead, build one!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean to laugh, I swear,” Gale grinned and lifted both hands in defeat. “Far be it from me to belittle you for building something able to traverse the stars, my sincerest apologies. The picture was just… a bit different than what I would have associated with spacefaring vessels up until now.”

She snorted out a laugh.

“Adorable. That’s what you’re trying not to say,” Ley lifted the book in her hand, then flicked back to one of the very first pages. “Which it most definitely was. Here, take a look.”

The lines she pulled from the paper formed an illusion that hovered in the air, just like the one on the first evening after she had joined the camp. A tiny ship, vaguely resembling the one he watched fall from the sky.

Only that this one appeared to be roughly a tenth of its size.

“Would have reached approximately from here…” She pointed at the ground, then over to Lae’zel’s tent. “…to there. One small sail, no anchors, no sphere. Not at the point of its construction, at least. It really didn’t have much, now that I think about it.”

“And yet, fully functional, I take it,” Gale marveled. “Magnificent. Adorable as well, yes, but even so…”

Ley gave him a wide smile. Then the image flew back between the pages and she flicked back through them until she reached the one from just a moment ago.

“Now…” She said, her tone a bit more serious now. “As much as I love to show off my creations, I believe there was a more urgent matter we were about to address.”

“Right. I would suggest…” he replied, paused for a moment, scratching his chin. “We should start with the kind of material you’d be curious about anyway, just to keep things interesting and as engaging as possible for you. We’ll cover the basics, and then go from there. Is there anything in particular you’d like to learn more about? I can offer books covering our history, or some of a more scientific nature, novellas, folklore…”

“Something I’d like to learn about. Let’s see… Do you have anything on the subject of your gods? Your pantheon?”

She winced and threw him a quick, almost remorseful glance from the side. As if the words had slipped from her tongue before she had a chance to think them through.

“I mean… It’s an important topic, right?” She spluttered. “Plenty of reasons to start with that one, if I am to understand even half of what’s happening to you - to all of you for that matter…”

A quiet chuckle escaped his throat.

It was kind of adorable, seeing her squirm at the notion of something that could threaten to direct the conversation back toward those recent, unpleasant revelations. Or maybe she just shied away from mentioning Mystra in his presence, which was endearing in a way, but then also completely ridiculous.

Besides, the idea was an arguably good one. He couldn’t think of a better way to introduce her to this world’s intricate history as well as the powers silently shifting and plucking at the threats that steered its fate. He had already put a few books aside, those he reckoned could be of use to her, and a few of them covered precisely the subject she had just brought up herself.

“An important topic indeed, I couldn’t agree more,” he smiled, leaned backward, and reached inside his tent, fumbling for the pile of books right next to the entrance. “And I believe I can provide you with just the right thing, if you’d just give me a moment…”

He dragged a few of them out and quickly sorted through them.

‘The Genesis of Selûne and Shar’. No, it was probably a little too early for that. ‘Death & Divinity’, that one was better, but not the one he was looking for.

There it was. ‘A is for Azuth, and other Gods’.

“This is technically just a collection of children’s rhymes,” he said in a soft, nearly apologetic tone, “a little silly, I confess, though perfectly viable for the purpose of teaching you how to read and conveying a basic understanding of some of the more important deities.”

She took it, then gave him a beaming smile.

“It is just one part of a series that features multiple volumes, and to my disappointment, I’ve only yet managed to acquire the second one. Had I access to my library back home, I could provide you with a much wider, more complete selection, but alas…”

He made a gesture encompassing the camp, then tipped at the side of his head, where the tadpole was stuck behind his eye.

“Though for the moment, it should be perfectly suitable. And if we happen to find ourselves in a situation where we can get our hands on more of them, I’ll make sure to seize the opportunity right then and there.”

On a whim, he reached behind him and fished another book out of the tent.

“And then there’s this one…” he said quietly, weighing the small tome in one hand, eyes wandering over the bright orange cover before he handed it to her. “… ‘Magic of the Weave - An Introduction’. I’d wager this might be the most interesting one to you, but at this point, the complexity and the wording itself might be a little-”

Ley plucked it from his hand before he could finish the sentence.

He smiled as he watched her turn it from one side to the other, gently running her fingers over the ornaments imprinted on the cover, and the intensely focused expression in her eyes, which were firmly locked on the letters in its middle.

“Magic of the Weave…” she whispered and placed it on top of her own, covering one side of it, the runes she had written down moments ago still visible on the other.

More of them appeared, neatly lined up in a row, starting from the top of the page. She quietly repeated the title a few times, letting each syllable linger on her tongue for a moment. Then the letters from the cover appeared next to some of the runes in her book.

Gale let out a hitched breath, then smirked.

“Am I to assume you want to do this all on your own?”

She grinned at him briefly, then her gaze flung back to the cover.

“Bit more of a challenge,” she mumbled. “And much more satisfying, once everything falls into place.”

He hummed approvingly. Still smiling, he reached for his own book, which had been lying on the floor the whole time, patiently waiting to regain his attention.

Gale perpetually threw her glances from the side, observing her as she flicked through the pages, silently moving her lips as her fingers wandered over them.

The situation felt oddly comfortable, and he wondered why. Part of it was likely because her enthusiasm when it came to learning, to solving puzzles, was something he could unequivocally relate to. But then it was also weirdly intimate, just sitting next to each other in silence, both sticking their heads into books, lost in their own world whilst knowing the other to be just within arms’ reach.

Suddenly Ley’s head flicked upward.

“Is this… alright? If I’m here for a little while,” she stammered, “just in case I have questions… I don’t want to keep you from anything, if… if you’re busy…”

“Stay as long as you like, please,” Gale replied quickly, noticing the hint of despair in his voice just a moment too late. He took a deep breath before he continued. “I quite enjoy our conversations… and even if there’s none to be had, I find it rather pleasant to have some company whilst reading.”

A shy smile unfolded on her features.

“There’s no need to ask for permission if you want to come here, you know that, right?” He wasn’t sure if that might be pushing it a little too much, but felt reluctant to leave it unmentioned. “I had hoped we already established that you could come over and join me any time you want, whether that is because a question needs answering or for any other reason imaginable.”

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something, but then decided against it. The smile widened and she nodded, then stuck her nose back into the books in her lap.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, disturbed only by the rustling sound of turning pages. Every now and then, he could hear her mutter something almost inaudible under her breath, heard her finger tap against the paper.

Gale tried to focus on his book again but somehow, ‘Disorders of the Nerves and Mind’ wasn’t quite as captivating as it had been before.

Only half-paying attention to what he was reading, he unintentionally trailed off every other moment and threw her glances from the side. It was fascinating, seeing her eyes rush from letter to letter, smirking whenever she deciphered a new one, watching more and more runes, as well as their counterparts, appear on the page to the side. Whenever a translation turned out to be a little more difficult, she leaned forward, squinted her eyes, and bit her lip.

“You’re an s, you have to be…” she whispered, voice so quiet it was barely there. “Thought you could hide, but I see you there…”

The pages turned, one after the other, the pace at which they did steadily increasing. At some point, no more runes were added to the list. The deciphering was done. Now, she was simply reading. And she got faster by the minute.

Gale didn’t know how much time had passed but at some point, the sun was beginning to set, and he heard the first crickets chirp in the grass behind his tent.

All of a sudden, Ley started snickering and he looked up from his book.

“Terribly sorry,” she said and tapped against the page. “Something about sorcerers and their oh-so unpredictable, uncontrollable magic… in some cases, not even rightfully theirs. Whoever wrote that, I’d really love to meet them one day.”

His lips parted into a grin.

A moment later, she burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“My, my…” He lifted his head and threw her an amused look. “What’d he do now, what did he have the audacity to write?”

“Oh, he…” she hummed and tried to fight down another laughing fit. “It’s just this bit down here…”

One finger tapped against the page and she cocked her head, chuckling and pouting her lips before she started to read.

“…to truly know and manipulate the Weave is an Art. But those Wizards who master it will know the limitless power and beauty the Weave provides... I see how it is…”

Ley raised a brow and grinned at him. 

“I’m gonna go on a whim here and say this is one of the most important parts… right? The one you wanted me to read?” She squinted her eyes. “I have to say, I’m mildly impressed. Very sneaky, sir. Very sneaky.”

Gale snorted out a laugh.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure ‘sneaky’ has never been one of them.”

He looked at her inquiringly, grinning from one ear to the other.

“Are you… accusing me…? Of deliberately handing you a tome that may or may not occasionally hint at the undoubtedly well-founded assumption that a wizard’s magic might have a few, minor advantages over the reckless spell-slinging of sorcerers?”

He laid a hand on his chest and put on his most convincing, deeply offended frown.

“If so, I’d like to point out that my intentions were perfectly innocent, and my only goal that to further your ongoing pursuit of knowledge, my lady. Which, in my humble, if slightly biased opinion, hardly warrants a chiding such as this.”

Her whole chest started shaking with violent giggles, and she ran a hand over her eyes.

“I don’t…” she said, trying to regain control over her trembling voice. “… I don’t think I’ve heard that before.”

“…reckless spell slinging? I don’t believe that for a secon-“

“No, no,” Ley took a deep breath and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The whole ‘my lady’ thing. That’s a new one for me.”

Still smirking, Gale made a mental note. That, he would make sure to remember.

A hearty laugh came from the side and both of their heads jerked around.

“Look at you… like two little peas in a pod,” Karlach’s grin was so wide it almost split her face in half. “Good to see you smiling again, both of ya.”

She stepped up to them, balancing a steaming bowl in each hand, the hearty, mouthwatering scent reminding Gale that he had somehow forgotten to eat for more than half the day.

“Figured you might like to stay over here,” the tiefling said, winking at them as she leaned down to hand them each their bowl, careful not to come too close to their skin with her scorching hot fingers. “Bit less noisy. Careful now, hot.”

“Very considerate of you. Much obliged,” Gale smiled up at her as he reached out, nodding toward her hand. “And whom do we have to thank for that?”

“Ah, that would be Wyll, for the most part,” Karlach replied and hunkered down after handing Ley her bowl. “Recipe came from me though, one of my mum’s favorites, but then I can’t really do anything without burning half the ingredients, eh?” She wiggled her fingers, then shrugged and gave him a small, almost bashful grin. “Split Pea Soup. Not as fancy as what you normally put on the table, but good enough, I hope.”

The taste was heavenly. Thick chunks of smoked ham, dunked in a thick, delicious mass of mashed peas, with a hint of black pepper. Comfortable warmth filled Gale’s insides and every last remaining bit of tension fell from his shoulders.

“You should be in charge of dinner more often,” Ley mumbled in between bites, then smirked at him. “Got some fierce competition here, Gale. Don’t take it personal.”

“No offense taken, couldn’t agree more.” He huffed.

Ley turned back to Karlach, giving her a wide, amiable smile.

“Now, I didn’t get the chance to ask you earlier… What was the deal with those guys at the tollhouse? I’ve been hearing bits about devils and the hells and all that, but I guess the complete story must have been shared before I got here. Care to fill me in?”

Karlach threw her head back and laughed. Then she sat down fully, hands clapping together with excitement, and started talking.

Ley listened with wide eyes as the tiefling began to recount what Gale had already heard days ago. She painted a detailed picture of her time in Zariel’s legion, her words accompanied by wide gestures and colorful, mildly disturbing descriptions of the battles she’d fought. They were able to finish their meal without having to utter a word themselves, simply listening as her enthusiastic rambling slowly came to an end, which happened about the same time their bowls had emptied.

“… told me to find him again, once we get to Baldur’s Gate.” Karlach finished her explanation of the infernal device her heart had been replaced with.

Ley set down her bowl and eyed the tiefling’s chest for a long moment.

“Might be a bit bold of me to ask,” she then said, fingers absentmindedly fumbling around with her bottom lip as she spoke. “But I’d really like to be there when that happens. Or even take a look for myself, if you’d allow me. Not that I necessarily could present a solution, but this kind of thing is right down my alley.”

Gale couldn’t help but chuckle as he saw the baffled expression on Karlach’s face.

“Really? How would you…” She spluttered. “I mean… yeah, sure thing! You just tell me when and where and… But how would you even…”

“No idea!” Ley laughed. “Not yet, anyway. Don’t worry about that for now.”

“Right,” the tiefling gave her a beaming, slightly irritated smile. “Awesome! So… you a blacksmith as well then?”

“Not quite, but something similar,” Ley replied. “Usually dealing with cogs and gears instead of… weapons or armor.”

Something like trepidation replaced the smile on Karlach’s face.

“So, the tinkering type, right? Automatons and stuff like that?”

The hint of apprehension in her tone didn’t go unnoticed - Ley seemed just as confused as the tiefling had been a moment ago.

“Not what you’re probably thinking of,” Gale chimed in from the side. “Something tells me she won’t go as far as to install infernal machinery in the chests of unsuspecting individuals.”

The tiefling looked at him, and after a short pause, let out a relieved snicker.

“What?” Ley’s mouth fell open. “Why would I…”

“You know…” Karlach laughed and made a throwaway gesture in her direction. “Maybe that’s enough about that. I’ve stolen enough of your time. You guys continue doing whatever it is you’re up to here.”

She didn’t give them time to object, just plucked the bowls from where they had set them down, and scrambled to her feet much quicker than her hulking stature would suggest to be possible. Throwing them one last grin, she vanished around the rock that separated them from the center of the camp.

Gale looked up at the sky.

The sun had already vanished beyond the horizon before the tiefling had shown up. Now, the first stars blinked on the deep, dark purple of the firmament and most of the crickets in the thicket behind them had already chirped themselves to sleep. The air was clear and crisp, not leaving them freezing, yet cool enough for him to be thankful for his cozy, long-sleeved tunic.

He threw a glance at Ley.

She was staring at the sky as well, leaning back and propped on her elbows, legs stretched out over the shabby rug he had laid out in front of his tent. She had at some point slipped out of her cloak, presumably to avoid getting Karlach’s soup on her sleeves. Now it hung loosely over her shoulders, only partially covering her arms. Gale spotted goosebumps on her skin, which either didn’t bother her, or she hadn’t noticed them yet.

“Are you sure you’re not getting cold?” He said softly, quickly averting his eyes from the bare skin below her collarbone before she could notice where his gaze had trailed off to.

“Hm?” Her face turned toward him, absently throwing him a smile. “Oh no… No. I’m used to the cold. Builds up one’s resistance quite a bit, being out there that long.”

He raised a brow, then looked at her forearm again and her eyes followed his.

“Or, well,” she chuckled, sat up, and rubbed both hands over her arms. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Seems my body doesn’t quite agree.”

For a quick moment, Gale’s eyes darted to the tent entrance, and he wondered if he should offer… No. That would be more than a little inappropriate, suggestive even.

As if she had read his thoughts, Ley’s arms slipped back into the sleeves and pulled up her hood, not as far as to reach her hairline, but covering most of her exposed neck.

“Would it be terribly rude for me to ask if I could stay here a little while longer?” She said, as she picked ‘Magic of the Weave: An Introduction’ up again and tapped against the cover. “Just until I finish the chapter, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“You may even finish the next one if you’d like. Or the one after,” Gale replied and hummed appreciatively, then reached for his own book. “The night is still young, and like I said before, your company is more than welcome.”

They read in relative silence for quite some time, entirely unaware of the amused glances thrown their way whenever one of their companions returned to their tent.

Gale had less than twenty pages left and part of him was already sorting through the other books waiting inside the tent, pondering which one he should pick up next, when he caught Ley rubbing her arms again from the corner of his eye.

“You know I could always summon something up to make this spot a little more comfortable, right?”

“No need,” she laughed in response, eyes not even leaving the pages as she spoke. “Really, Gale. No need to fuss over me. I’m perfectly fine the way things are.”

He sighed quietly and returned his attention to his book. Whilst he hurried through the remaining pages - the ending was somehow lacking in excitement, which had him mildly disappointed - his thoughts trailed off. After a moment, an idea formed in his mind and a smile on his face.

With a contented hum, Gale clapped the book shut.

Ley lifted her head.

“Want to call it a night?” She asked, seemingly preparing to follow suit.

“No, no, on the contrary,” he chuckled and leaned back to reach inside the tent, placing ‘Disorders of the Nerves and the Mind’ on the pile of books he had already been through, then fumbled for a small pouch next to the top of his bedroll. “I have an idea for a perfect follow-up, but I thought we should probably get ourselves a little more light if we want to keep sitting here like this.”

His fingers brushed against soft leather and he recognized the little beads at the end of the string that held the pouch close. It gave a small clinking sound, like marbles knocking against each other, as he closed his hand around it and pulled it outside.

“Now, if you’d like to spare me a moment, there’s something rather magical I’d love to show you,” He gave her a warm smile. “If you’re not too preoccupied with what you’re reading, of course.”

There it was again. That burning flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

Her book fell shut and was moved to the side.

“I believe I can guess the answer already, but just out of curiosity,” he continued and plucked a small bead from the pouch, the crystal shimmering dimly between his fingers. “Do any of your spells require components? Like this one?”

She looked at his hand for a moment, then shook her head.

“I’m thinking back to the sphere, but that probably doesn’t qualify.”

“No,” he chuckled. “That would be something else entirely. Here, take a look.”

He rolled the bead between his fingers and then handed it to her. 

“Most spells require some kind of material component, in addition to the somatic and verbal ones I’ve already shown you yesterday. There are a variety of items that can be used for that purpose - though I myself, like most wizards who actively practice the art, prefer to utilize a focus, which in most circumstances would be a wand or a staff of some kind. However…”

Leaning forward, he held out his hand and Ley returned the bead with an anticipating smile.

“… There are a few spells I currently lack a focus for, which would be the case for the one I’d like to cast right now. Luckily for us, my ingredient pouch was still on my person and mostly unblemished when the Nori plucked me from that portal-“

She lifted a brow in irritation.

“Never mind that - that’s a story for another day,” Gale laughed, then lifted the bead again. “Now, with the help of this little gem here, combined with the other parts…”

He mumbled a few words, too fast and too quiet for her to understand, not that that was important right now, and wove a quick series of gestures in the air with his other hand. The bead glowed faintly for a brief moment, and then the spell cloaked them in a dome of dim, golden light.

“This particular spell is called ‘Leomund’s Tiny Hut’,” he said and smirked at Ley’s awe-filled expression as she turned her head and marveled at the sight. “I found it to be quite practical in situations like this.”

She hummed approvingly, then looked back at him.

“Would you consider teaching me a few of those?” A shy smile danced around her lips. “Seeing as we appear to be done with matters of communication for the moment?”

Gale gleamed at the notion, a gush of pride filling his chest with warmth, even if that, to be fair, might just as well be related to the spell. ‘Tiny Hut’ did, after all, not only provide light but also affect the atmosphere within the area of its effect.

“Naturally, if that is something you’d be interested in,” he almost stumbled over his words. “I’d be glad to. Very glad to. Though we might have to go through a few more of those…”

He gestured toward the pile of books next to the tent entrance.

“To cover a few of the basics so you’d have at least a rudimentary understanding of what you’re doing…”

“Not a problem,” Ley exclaimed and smacked her hand at the one next to her knees, then picked it back up and clapped it open. “Reading I can do. Finally.”

She gave him another of those wide, beaming smiles and, without another word, stuck her nose in the book again.

A few minutes later, when both of them were lost between pages again, Gale could swear that she threw him a few amused glances, once the effect of the spell had fully settled in, warming the air under the dome to a nice, toasty temperature.

He had decided to go for ‘Oral Histories of Faerûn: Gith and Mind Flayers’ next, and most of what he read - the parts he hadn’t already known about beforehand, of course - left him with more questions than it was able to provide answers. Questions he made a mental note of so he could bring them up with Lae’zel at some point.

It took Gale some time to notice Ley was looking at him.

“Something the matter?” He asked and smiled at her.

“A question, if you don’t mind…” There was something timid about the way she reciprocated the smile. “And a bit of an uncomfortable one. I hope that is alright… I just can’t get it out of my head.”

“Try me,” he replied. “I doubt whatever you perceive as uncomfortable can match what the rest of this day has been like.”

“Fair point,” she chuckled, then her voice turned a little more serious. “It said,” she tapped against the cover of the book that now lay closed next to her knees again, “that… Mystra sees everyone who channels the Weave, every time they cast a spell.”

“True,” he nodded, then gave a half-hearted grin. “Though I’d like to believe she stuffs her fingers in her ears whenever she hears my invocations.”

Ley snorted out a laugh and eyed him with an oddly tense expression.

“Good to know, though what I was aiming for was more like…” She shifted uneasily in her spot, eyes flickering to the floor for a second. “If she could see me as well, given that I’m not from around. And if she’d know… what company I’m in.”

“Oh, she is fully aware of that thing inside you, no question,” he huffed, then tried to put on a reassuring smile. “But even if what she saw somehow wasn’t to her liking, I can assure you Mystra is not known to lash out on a whim. You’d have to do a lot more to irk her, more than just fall victim to some alien form of magic that forces itself into the confines of your chest, and I happen to know what I’m talking about.”

A sigh escaped his lips, and when he continued, his voice got lower with every sentence.

“No, you’d have to have made some fatal error in judgment first, disappoint her to the core, and even then, the furthest she’d go is to cut all ties and leave you to your miserable, yet decidedly well-deserved fate. And given that you’ve never attempted to gain her favor in the first place, I doubt there’s much you’d have to fear.”

Ley looked at him for a moment. Her mouth opened, then closed again, as if she didn’t dare to speak her mind.

“Pardon my rambling,” Gale looked up and winked at her. “But that should have covered most of what you were getting at, did it not?”

A moment of silence passed.

“Y… Yes,” she blinked at him, chewing her lip. “I suppose.”

Then, without a warning, she straightened up and clasped her hands together.

“You know what, maybe this is a good time to end the evening,” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Before I open the next one and get lost again. I fear if that happens I’d still be sitting here come sunrise.”

Gale nodded reluctantly. Before she could get up, he snatched another book from the pile and held it out toward her.

“One for the road?” He asked with a soft smile, to which Ley just shook her head and got to her feet.

“Very sweet of you, but one was more than enough for today. Besides,” she squinted her eyes, tilted her head, and smirked. “Now that I know where to find them, that’s all the more reason to come here again tomorrow… If you’ll have me.”

Anytime, he thought. I will be here, waiting.

“You have a good night, then,” he heard himself say.

Ley waved over her shoulder and grinned. Gale smirked back at her.

Then she was gone.

Despite all the horrifying events of the day, despite him dying and being resurrected, only to wake up to the orb’s insatiable hunger and being forced to reveal the dreadful truth behind it to the people he depended upon, despite the gnawing, constant pain, thrumming away in his chest, Gale went to bed with a smile.

Chapter Text

Forward

*

The corpse lying at her feet was already half-rotten and picked apart by scavengers, but the tentacles sprouting from its mouth and the cone-shaped head left no doubts as to its alien nature.

Ley gritted her teeth and hissed with disgust.

“… connected to the hivemind until the very moment of its death.”

Lae’zel looked up, studying her face inquiringly as if she wasn’t sure she had been paying attention to her words.

“Oh, I’ve been listening,” Ley stated quickly. “I’m just trying to picture this thing alive and in action, which is… not very pleasant.”

“The matter will not be left to your imagination for much longer if our leader keeps steering us away from the path to the nearest Crèche.” Lae’zel’s tone was one of frustrated resignation. She got to her feet, glared at the dead Mindflayer one last time, and then turned back to Ley and Gale. “Believe me when I say that it brings me no joy, being forced to bring this topic up time and time again. And yet, I fear we cannot afford to waste our best chance. We can’t afford to waste any more time.”

She threw the wizard an inquiring, somewhat pleading look.

“Gale, you seem more clever than most istik. Educated even in matters of ceremorphosis. You must be aware that the druid’s notion of us finding a few flimsy clues at Moonrise Towers is nothing but a hopeful dream. As are the promises of whoever sits within the Astral Prism. We cannot blindly trust them to lead us to a cure in what little time we have left.”

Ley’s eyes flicked from her to Gale. This topic had come up quite a few times over the last few days and seemed to be somewhat of a sensitive one. The discussions mostly ended in the gith being talked down by one or several of the others and growling with frustration as she rushed off to direct her anger at some helpless training dummy.

“I appreciate the flattery,” he grinned, then huffed and paused for a moment, scratching his beard as he thought about his answer.

“I suppose the issue is not the purification process itself. Your logic is sound and clear for everyone to see, even if the idea of having yet another alien device attached to their heads might have them a little bit on edge. The main obstacle seems to be the fact that to access this device we’d either have to get inside the Crèche undetected or, alternatively - and this option does not sound particularly feasible - to find a diplomatic solution allowing us to use it with the permission of your people. And the last time we encountered them, we were met with quite a bit of hostility, as I’m sure you remember all too well.”

Lae’zel looked to the side. Of course, she remembered. A constant reminder of that encounter graced her shoulder in the form of a deep, nasty scar.

“My kin may yet be pleaded with,” she said impartially. “They are oath-bound to provide me with a cure, and as far as I can see, they have no reason to connect what happened at the bridge to me and whoever travels in my company.”

“Sounds like you’d be the best one suited to be in charge of negotiations then,” Gale replied, squinted his eyes, and smirked. “Which, if I recall Nori’s recapitulation correctly, might have resulted in an entirely different outcome that day. I can see it working, I do. It isn’t me you have to convince.”

The gith nodded, lifted her head, and looked at Ley.

“Do you have any thoughts on the matter?” She asked, cocking her head. “Does my request sound as unreasonable to you as it does to the others?”

“Oh, I don’t think I really have a say in this…” Ley said, lifting both hands. “I’m not the one carrying a tadpole, after all.”

“Still, you strike me as resourceful,” the gith weighed her head, holding her gaze with a stern expression. “Your travels would have sharpened your instincts over time, drilled a sense of pragmatism into you, otherwise you wouldn’t have survived. Indulge me.”

“Alright…” Ley crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at the ground, cheeks flushed the faintest bit of pink. She thought for a moment, then looked up again. “… Any guess how far away that Crèche might be?”

“No more than a three-days walk,” Lae’zel replied without hesitation. “I’ve seen their warriors up close. Judging by the shape of their armor and the fact that they were traveling lightly, they had not prepared for a long journey.”

“Well, that certainly makes things easier.”

Ley nodded, eyes wandering from her to Gale.

“Considering what Halsin told us about the Underdark, this trip would likely be shorter. Even if we are due to face some difficulties - which would be the case in both scenarios. That option seems much more likely to solve the issue than whatever is waiting for us at the towers. And should we turn up empty-handed, we can always head back and take our chances with the other route.”

Lae’zel’s eyes widened.

“I don’t think the argument of efficient timing has been made so far,” Gale stated and hummed approvingly. “We best bring that up with Nori as soon as possible.”

Ley nodded in agreement.

For a split second, Lae’zel looked like she wasn’t quite sure how to process that information. Then she straightened up and her face returned to its usual, equanimous state.

“It would be wise to do so,” she remarked calmly. “And fast. Each passing day brings us closer to the point at which neither Astral Prism nor empty promises can shield us from our inevitable fate.”

Throwing one last, contemptuous glance at the dead Mindflayer on the ground, she folded her hands on her back, raised a brow at Ley, and nodded in the direction of the adjacent chamber.

“Come,” she said. “There is still more for you to see.”

Ley didn’t need to be asked twice.

Gale smiled as he saw them stroll off through what used to be a hallway. He assumed it was the intellect devourers, or at least what was left of their corpses, that Lae’zel wanted to show her. A sight he was, unfortunately, more than familiar with, and so he took his time following them, pressed a hand to his sternum, rolling his shoulder to ease the tension in his chest a little.

It had gotten worse, but not as much as he’d feared. He knew the pain already, that low, constant thrumming, which was decidedly uncomfortable, but something he had learned to live with and was able to push to the far edges of his mind most of the time.

Occasionally the pain intensified, spiked into a nigh-on unbearable, stabbing pain, mostly when the orb decided it was time to wake from its slumber and demanded its tribute. He could feel it in there, gnawing at his essence, teeth like searing daggers tearing him apart from the inside. And depending on how much time passed between the orb waking up and him finding a way to feed it, that pain would incrementally get worse. Harder to bear with every passing hour.

And now, those spikes, that Arcane Hunger had become a constant companion. Each waking and each sleeping hour, of every single day for the foreseeable future.

His ability to handle, or even suppress the pain, went hand in hand with his task of restraining the orb. The clearer his mind, the more he was able to hold the thing in there, to keep it constrained within his so far quite resilient mortal prison.

Now, no longer being able to rely on magical items, he had to find new ways to steer his attention away from the pain, whilst simultaneously staying focused on keeping the thing itself in check. Which was by no means an easy task, but then again, there were plenty of opportunities to distract himself.

Gale looked up.

Lae’zel gesticulated toward one of the small, innocent-looking corpses at her feet. Intellect Devourers, as expected. Ley stood at her side, book in hand, nodding and absentmindedly gesturing toward the page. She was taking notes. And the gith seemed to be almost done with her lecture.

He put on the most convincing smile he could muster and closed up to them.

“… One last question, Lae’zel,” he heard Ley say. She lifted a finger to point at the ceiling. “Is there even a slight chance the Mindflayers might be able to salvage something from here? Theoretically speaking?”

The gith raised both eyebrows. Turning around on her heels, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains of the nautiloid. Her eyes lingered on the holes and cracks in the fleshy tissue of the walls, then flicked to the gory lumps scattering the floor.

“Given its state, the possibility of them recovering anything useful seems unlikely,” she replied carefully, throwing her a curious glance. “Though not entirely impossible. The shell itself might be of worth to them, broken as it might be. After years and years of nautiloids being taken apart by gith hunting parties, they’ve become a rare commodity and-“

“Say no more.” Lifting her finger to her lips, Ley grinned, then closed her eyes for a quick moment and let out a delighted sigh. “That would be more than enough reason.”

Lae’zel didn’t answer, just smirked inquiringly and cocked her head.

“Are you suggesting we burn it down?” Gale leaned forward, eying their surroundings with a doubtful smile. “More than it already is? I fully approve of the idea, yet somehow I doubt there is much to be done on that front…”

“No, no, no…” Ley’s grin grew wider, she shook her head vigorously and wiggled a finger in his direction. “Not… burn. I say we tear it apart. Smash it into pieces so small no one will ever be able to make use of them again.”

“What did you have in mind?” Lae’zel asked calmly. One corner of her mouth curled upward ever so slightly.

Ley weighed her head amusedly.

“First and foremost - Structural integrity.”

She pointed at the base of the nearby wall, right to where one of the supporting beams of the hull protruded from the rubble.

“And then…”

Her finger wandered in Gale’s direction, a small flame igniting at the tip.

“… then comes the part with the burning.”

Lae’zel’s lips parted to a grin.

*

“Are you quite sure you’re alright in there?” Gale shouted and shielded his eyes, well aware that she likely wouldn’t be able to hear him over the thundering crackling of the flames.

The only response was a frantic giggle, muffled by thick smoke and rising ash.

“She knows what she’s doing, Gale.”

Lae’zel’s voice was as stoic as ever. She crossed her arms and watched the flames rise higher and higher, seemingly unbothered by the sound of creaking metal and falling debris behind the wall of fire.

He shook his head in irritation.

“Your confidence is condemnable, but may I point out that there is a blazing inferno between us and-”

“I took you for a learned man, Gale,” Lae’zel turned her face, glaring at him with an expression of both amusement and mild annoyance. “Or at least for someone perceptive enough to realize that this one appears to be more fireproof than most. So calm your nerves and quit your fussing.”

Gale raised a finger, opened his mouth to give a suitably eloquent repartee, but then decided against it. The gith seemed to be in an uncharacteristically good mood today, which may or may not be related to that scorching heap of rubble in front of them, but that didn’t mean her disposition couldn’t change.

Besides, there was something hypnotic about that sea of flames. In that constant, oddly soothing crackling of the embers, almost like a choir of whispers, and in the slow, rhythmic back and forth of the ash particles that danced through the air…

“I can see why you’re so determined to woo her,” Lae’zel said impartially.

Gale’s head jerked around so fast he almost pulled a muscle.

“Pardon me?” He spluttered. “Whatever gave you the impression… I’m certainly not…”

She raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to watch the flames.

Behind the curtain of smoke, something big crashed into the rubble, sending a small wave of tremors through the ground. In the distance, they heard Ley’s giddy laughter. Then a metal pillar creaked, tilted, and plunged to the floor. A wall came down, dragging a second one with it as it fell. Bright sparks flew their way and the flames spurt higher for a moment, then calmed down and resumed their graceful flickering.

“I may not be familiar with local customs,” Lae’zel continued calmly. “So I may have been slow to pick up on the signs. I suppose for you, as well as the others, it’s easy to forget that Ley is as alien to this world as I am.”

Gale ran a hand over his beard, then absently rubbed the aching spot on his chest.

He really had to get this nonsense out of his head. How blatantly obvious did things have to be for Lae’zel of all people to address the matter?

“And what exactly is it you’re getting at?” He heard himself ask, a second later realizing what he’d just implied. “Not that I’m in any way validating those absurd and completely unfounded assumptions, mind you…”

The gith blinked at him, the slightest hint of a smirk dancing around her lips.

“I am merely pointing out that she may be as oblivious to your advances as I am to concepts like… “

She squinted her eyes.

“… like this ‘sarcasm’ thing the vampire keeps pestering me about. So if you plan on solving the issue, instead of wasting precious time and energy wallowing in idle self-pity, you should make your intent unmistakably clear.”

Idle self-pity?

He stared at her, a little more offended than he’d care to admit.

Down the road, something stirred in the smoke, and a slim, hooded figure emerged from within, coughing and wheezing as she stumbled forward.

“Unless you’d rather wait until she runs off to ‘greener pastures’,” Lae’zel cocked her head, threw him one more glance from the side, then shouldered her pack. “I believe that is the correct way to use that term, is it not?”

She walked off before he could answer, nodding her approval at Ley, who frantically tried to pat ash and dust from her pants.

Gale caught up to her and smiled at her.

“There you are,” he exclaimed cheerfully. “You had us worried there for a moment.”

“You most definitely did not,” Lae’zel stated without hesitation.

Ley’s eyes darted from one to the other, brows rising in a silent question.

“Oh, I’m just about as flammable as Karlach’s engine,” she chuckled, whilst patting dirt off her sleeves. “It’s possible, but not very likely, and requires a lot of heat. No need to worry on that front.”

She nodded toward the burning wreckage.

“Think this is enough?”

Some of the taller, metal supports were still standing. But everything else - including the majority of the already broken-apart shell - had been reduced to nothing but rubble, the debris and half-scorched tentacle pieces now scattering the ground from where they stood down to the riverside.

“To rid this place of anything a passing Mindflayer could theoretically deem useful?” Gale raised a brow and smirked. “I’m pretty confident it is, yes. More than enough. Though I have to admit I’m a little surprised how far you’ve taken this…”

As if to underline that statement, one of the defiant support beams that still dared to stand upright, gave a screeching sound, tipped to the side, and crashed into a pile of debris.

“How far I’ve…?” Ley looked up, her expression somewhere between offended and amused. “May I point out that at least half of that was you, good sir?”

He squinted his eyes, leaned to the side to glimpse at the scope of the destruction behind her back. It looked like some sort of hellish behemoth had rampaged over the beach, grinding the shattered remains of the nautiloid to dust under its feet, leaving nothing but flames in its wake.

And most of those flames were bright white.

“Present evidence suggests otherwise,” He smiled and raised a brow. “Not that I’m complaining. This was by far the most unpleasant chapter of our journey and there is a kind of poetic justice in us bringing it to an end in such a spectacular, if slightly exaggerated manner.”

She gave a polite little curtsy.

“Well, in that case, I’m glad I could be of service.”

Gale chuckled.

Lae’zel rolled her eyes.

Ley cleared her throat and raised a brow at the gith.

“Shall we get going then?”

The only answer was a stern nod and the faintest hint of a smile.

Unfortunately, the passage they had arrived through was blocked by still smoldering debris, so they headed east, toward the wall of smoke Ley had just reappeared from. The path led away from the wreckage, upwards, and into the forest and Gale was just about to remark that all of this seemed weirdly familiar, when Lae’zel turned on her heels, looking at Ley with an expression he was not sure what to make of.

“If we are to depart tomorrow,” she said, “today might be your last remaining chance to revisit your ship, should there be any unfinished business you’d wish to take care of.”

Unfinished business? Gale thought. Unlikely. To say goodbye, perhaps.

It took Ley a moment to answer, and when she did, she did so with sagging shoulders and a smile that didn’t even remotely reach her eyes.

“Nothing left there that would be worth the effort,” she replied quietly. “Just a bunch of unpleasant memories, the kind I’d prefer to remain exactly where they are.”

Lae’zel stared at her for a moment. Then she nodded and turned back around.

As they kept walking, Gale stole a glance at Ley from the side.

Rogue strands of hair hung loose over the side of her face, half-covering that small, tense smile, which now quickly dissipated, leaving her with an empty, hollow expression he had only seen once before. The night in that clearing, where he found her painting the sky with stars that weren’t hers. In that incredibly vulnerable moment, when the realization that she was stranded, for better or worse, had crushed her right before his eyes.

Right now, she looked just as lost, despite her effort to hide behind that impartial, blank facade. Lost, and very small, even though her size hardly had anything to do with it. Which was something he hadn’t really thought about before, Gale noted, lips curling into a sheepish smile as an image appeared in his mind, of her in his arms, his chin on top of her head as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

“Something funny…?”

Ley’s voice ripped him out of his thoughts.

He noticed he was staring and cleared his throat, then shook his head.

“Merely contemplating,” he said, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Pondering how that one would do in comparison… Your ship, I mean.”

“Well, I’d hope it would prove something more of a challenge,” she huffed and grinned back at him. “Should be a little less flammable at the very least. If not, I’d have to seriously reconsider my choice of profession.”

Gale chuckled.

“In that case, I’d like to point out that there’s plenty of opportunity in the line of magical occupations, should you find yourself in need of an alternate career path.”

She gave him a doubtful smirk.

“Oh, I’m quite certain we could make a wizard out of you yet,” he hummed amusedly. “Not that I’d doubt your engineering prowess for a second, mind you.”

Ley snorted out a laugh.

“I’m not sure I share your confidence in that matter,” she said, one brow raised. “Seeing as I haven’t learned a single spell so far. If that’s even possible, which has yet to be prov-“

She cut herself off with a surprised gasp, leaned forward, and squinted her eyes.

“Do you see that?”

Gale looked up and followed her gaze.

There, on the side of the path, something stirred between the rocks, emanating a flickering, purple light. Something that looked an awful lot like...

“Oh, dear gods…” He groaned and pinched his nose. “I knew this place looked oddly familiar.”

Lae’zel, a few paces ahead of them, stepped up to it and cocked her head.

“Is this the place where Nori pulled you out of that stone?” She exclaimed, lips curled into a gleeful smirk. “Where the famed wizard prodigy fell in a gap between dimensions, unable to escape his own portal?”

They caught up to her and Gale came to a halt, but Ley just kept going, hand reaching out for the-

“I would not recommend touching that!” He gasped and leaped forward, grabbed her by the shoulder, and pulled her away. “Not if you want to remain in one piece, that is.”

Ley shook her head in irritation, then looked up at him with a smile.

“You were stuck in that thing…?”

He sighed, then scratched his beard. His other hand remained where it was.

Just to be sure.

“Not my proudest moment, I have to admit…” He mumbled, carefully steering her away from the malfunctioning rune and back on the path. “Though in my defense, one’s ability to cast a proper spell mid-air after escaping a crashing nautiloid happens to be somewhat limited. Even more so when that person has very recently been injected by a mindflayer tadpole.”

Lae’zel snickered and turned around, picking up the pace again as they continued their way up the hill.

“So you can cast without all those…” Ley wiggled her hand, fishing for the right term. “…components. And here I thought those were mandatory.”

When she looked up, that bright, beaming smile gracing her lips, Gale could have sworn she leaned against him for a moment and his heart skipped a beat. But then, that may have just been wishful thinking.

They resumed their journey back to camp and Ley continued inquiring about his escape from the ship, about the nature of his failed spell and the different schools of magic she’d read about in the book the evening prior. She babbled like a waterfall, occasionally nudging her elbow in his side when he didn’t reply fast enough.

Every now and then he trailed off, adoringly contemplating the fact she reached him precisely up to his nose, leaving her forehead at the same height as his mouth, or pondering the smell of her hair - mostly ash and smoke, but he detected something else underneath, a faint hint of something sweet and flowery he couldn’t quite lay a finger on.

Her barrage of questions left no room for anything outside their conversation. Not for the aching spot on his chest, nor the placement of hands or doubts regarding the appropriateness of that matter.

*

The sun was still fairly high up in the sky when they arrived at camp, and most of the others were busy packing their belongings or sorting through supplies.

It hurt a little, feeling his hand slide off her shoulder as they entered the clearing. 

Not that it had been there for long, the walk back had been a relatively short one. Although it was long enough for her to completely sink into that comfortable feeling of being held, entirely unable to rip herself away, no matter the awkwardness of the whole situation. 

She’d almost forgotten about it at some point, leaned into his embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world whilst firing question after question at him like an overly excited schoolgirl. Not to force his attention to the conversation instead of the removal of said arm, of course - that would’ve just been silly - but because her mind suddenly flooded with a myriad of questions that refused to be left unanswered.

Something had clicked inside her head, the moment they left that weird, broken sigil behind them. She wasn’t quite sure why, but all of a sudden the idea of asking the high-and-mighty archmage, former lover of no other than the goddess of magic herself, for help didn’t feel as mortifying and demeaning as it had before.

Maybe it was the thing with the portal and what Lae’zel said, about the admittedly comical way in which he’d managed to survive the fall - not that she was the one to talk, being stuck in a stone seemed still very much preferable to getting impaled by debris.

Or maybe it was his slightly embarrassed reaction. As if the notion of him failing a spell was something to be ashamed of.

Whatever the reason was, it left her gushing with enthusiasm, almost euphoric at the idea that she, the most insignificant of backwater tinkerers, might be able to learn something as awe-inspiring and wondrous as what he’d already mastered to perfection.

She’d have to give it her all though. This wouldn’t be like it had been with their language, where she had been able to cheat halfway through the learning process.

Then again, even though she might not be as gifted or witty as others when it came to acquiring a new skill - if there was one thing she knew herself to be, it was efficient. Efficient and meticulous.

Ley hurried to her tent, waving back at Nori, who toasted her with her half-emptied wineglass. Judging by the smell, they had already started dinner preparations, and originally, she had planned to help, but seeing as they had returned so much later than expected, the packing had to come first.

She threw the flap open and got to her knees, tugging her bag from her shoulders as she shuffled inside. With a few, swift moves, she untied the fastenings, opened it, and smiled at its contents.

Nori had taken her aside, once the Grove’s gate had closed behind them. ‘Your share of the spoils’, was what she said, grinning as she nudged a clinking pouch into Ley’s hand.

Which was nonsense, it had to be, because Karlach and Lae’zel hadn’t even reached the trader yet, they were still busy hauling all those half-torn pieces of armor and rusty weapons they’d scavenged from the tollhouse down the path ahead of them.

When she tried to make that point, Nori just giggled and closed her fingers around the leather. Gave her an encouraging pat on the waist, and then just proceeded down to where the others were waiting, whistling as she left her standing there at the gate, completely flabbergasted and staring at the pouch in her hands.

It had been years since the last time she had dealt with any kind of currency. Not to mention the fact that it had been just as many years since there were things to be bought.

Good things. Pretty things.

Things she’d have deemed a completely unnecessary luxury up until just a few days ago.

And now she was able to get those things. Just for herself, for no other reason than that she wanted them.

Soap, for example. Soap that smelled like lavender and rosewater. And a toothbrush. How on earth had she survived all those days without a toothbrush?

Besides some other basic toiletries and a thin, green woolen blanket, she’d also gotten her hands on a number of used tools the tieflings had left behind, which had her so excited she had to actively suppress the urge to squeal with joy.

At some point, she was sorting through a bunch of clothes the trader, a halfling by the name of Arron, had kindly spread out in front of her, Astarion peeked over her shoulder, pouting his lips in disapproval at a blouse she had just been about to purchase.

‘Not your color, darling,’ he said, plucked the thing from her hands with a mildly disgusted frown and threw it back onto the pile. ‘And you certainly don’t want to go with this kind of linen, trust me.’ He tossed a few pieces to the side, eventually holding an elegant, sea-green tunic up to her chest. ‘So much better. Matches your eyes.’

She scoffed, unsure what to make of his mildly overbearing tone, but took the tunic anyway.

Moments later, she had a colorful assortment of mostly unblemished clothes in her hands, including soft leather pants, a handful of sleeveless tops, and an extremely cozy-looking, soft shawl she couldn’t wait to throw around her shoulders.

The trader, Arron, had watched them with amusement, patiently waiting as they rummaged through his wares and once she was ready to pay, even gave her a discount after throwing a wink in Halsin’s direction.

The druid had chosen to accompany them, to tie up a few loose ends, as he put it.

Ley still had a bit of a hard time getting used to him, to having that towering figure in their midst that required her to strain her neck every time she tried to look into his face. Not that his presence was unpleasant in any way. On the contrary, it seemed to have something of a soothing effect on everyone around. Even the most heated of arguments calmed down when he appeared, quietly lighting his pipe as he sat down next to the campfire, attentively listening and observing them from deep, endlessly patient eyes.

There were discussions to be had with him, that much was certain. He had caught a glimpse at what was slumbering inside her, that day when she’d first met him. When he healed her wounds from the fall. And she wondered what it was that he saw. Maybe something different than what she did, whenever she tried to turn her gaze inward. This might be an opportunity to learn more about that cursed thing, one she hadn’t had the chance to make use of so far.

Not that she was in any kind of hurry to address that topic.

Besides, she had told Gale that she’d join him for another reading session this evening. And after the events of the last day, there was no way she’d not make good on that promise.

She hummed contentedly, laying her newly acquired treasures, as well as her other belongings, out on her bedroll, then folded and sorted them into a neat pile she’d only have to stuff inside her pack come morning. Everything else, she’d have to take care of tomorrow, before their departure. 

Right when she was about to grab a few of her new clothes as well as the soap, ready to head for the river to take a much-needed bath, she heard footsteps approaching and someone cleared his throat.

“Am I imposing?” Gale’s voice came from outside.

Ley grinned and poked her head through the opening.

“Not in the least,” she said cheerfully. “Need something?”

“I thought I’d let you know that dinner is about to be served.” He smiled, hands folded behind his back. “Courtesy of Nori this time, though I’m not quite sure I agree with her excessive application of… spirituous supplements. Even something as savory as Neverwinter Stew can only take so much.”

“Oh dear,” Ley giggled, carelessly chucking clothes and soap back onto her bedroll, reaching for her gorgeous new shawl instead. “Am I to assume they’ve expelled you from the kitchen yet again? Two days in a row?”

She climbed outside, for a split second pondering if she should reach out for his hand to help her get up, but quickly dismissed the thought and scrambled to her feet. 

“It appears our esteemed leader is under the impression that a man dealing with a bomb in his chest should not be troubled with a task as mundane as cooking.” He eyed her from the side, watched as she threw the shawl around her shoulders, humming contentedly as she nuzzled her chin into the plush fabric. “Which is a preposterous notion, of course.”

And robs you of an opportunity to take your mind off things, Ley thought. Not the best of ideas, Nori. Bit of a cruel one, actually.

“Sounds like all you’d have to do is be faster than them,” She gave him a reassuring smile, which then turned into a wide grin. “Let’s give it a try tomorrow when we set up camp again. Get started before either of them has a chance to do anything about it.” Her voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. “And should the need arise, I could make myself available to provide a distraction.”

Gale snorted out a laugh.

“Who knew you had so much criminal energy…” He chuckled. “But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like the idea. Well see, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

With a small bow, he gestured for her to follow him back to the campfire.

“In which case - should your plan bear fruit and you feel like keeping me company for a bit afterward - that might be a perfect opportunity to practice some first, simple incantations.”

It took some effort to hold back the excited gasp that threatened to escape her lips. 

“I’d love to. Tomorrow it is then.”

Chapter Text

Hunt

*

Astarion had barely touched his wine, the glass still almost full, and now he absently rolled it between his fingers as he stared at the back of Ley’s head.

Or rather at the back of her neck, now obstructed by that accursed shawl. As was the rest of her shoulders. Which was a pity. He had just gotten accustomed to the sight of that delectable, pale white skin her usual evening attire so generously used to exhibit.

He could still sense her heartbeat under there, smelled her warm blood as it pulsed through her veins, a bit quicker than usual, likely due to the fact that she had already emptied her glass.

If he wanted to ask her, he’d have to do it soon, considering what a lightweight that girl was. And judging by the smell, their stew packed quite the punch as well.

Nori lifted her bottle and nudged her elbow into Ley’s side.

He snapped out of his trance, put on his most beguiling smile, and walked over to the campfire.

“… last evening in a pretty place like this, so this should-“

The halfling flinched and jerked to the side, cut off mid-sentence as he bent down and poked his head between the two women.

“Dear gods, can’t you just walk up to people like a normal person?” Nori gasped, glaring at him with a crooked grin. “Or at least make yourself known?”

Ley didn’t even look up from her bowl, just smirked amusedly as she dunked her spoon in the thick, brown goo.

“Apologies,” he gave the bard a polite, if slightly teasing nod. “Startling you was not my intention, I merely wanted a quick word with our little firebug here.”

Nori looked at him, a hint of suspicion dancing over her features. She didn’t say anything though, just squinted her eyes and returned to shoving spoonfuls of stew into her mouth.

“I was wondering if there was a chance you’d be willing to join me for a little… late-night stroll,” he purred as he leaned closer to Ley’s ear. “I’m feeling a little peckish myself and would very much like to take you up on what you so generously offered the other night.”

She chuckled.

Nori did not.

“You what…?” The question burst from the halfling’s throat, loud enough to silence the other conversations around them.

“Not what you think,” Ley grinned, swallowing down a spoonful of stew before she continued. “It isn’t my blood that’s on the menu. At least I hope that’s what you’re implying here, right?”

She turned her face toward him, one brow raised, an impish smirk dancing around her lips.

“Of course not,” he replied sheepishly. “I wouldn’t dare to ask for that.”

Not in public, at least.

It took some effort to force his gaze to remain on her eyes, away from the vein that so temptingly pulsed at the side of her neck, right between the edge of her shawl and her jawline.

He felt Nori’s burning stare on the back of his head.

And that of the wizard who sat on the log next to theirs, uncharacteristically quiet all of a sudden.

“Sure you wouldn’t…” Ley chuckled, then lifted her half-emptied bowl. “May I finish my meal first though? Might be good if at least one of us doesn’t go out hunting on an empty stomach.”

“Oh, by all means,” he cooed and straightened up. “Don’t let me keep you. I will be at my tent, patiently awaiting your arrival.”

Which he did.

Though anything but patient.

*

This was one of those moments where he truly loved being what he was.

Senses razor-sharp, even more so than usual due to the adrenaline raging through his system, heightened to a level unobtainable for even the most perceptive of predators.

He took a deep breath and cleared his thoughts of anything not related to the scent of his quarry and the quiet sounds of the midnight forest.

He heard everything.

Every cracking twig and every gust of wind bristling through the treetops. The chirping crickets in the thicket, the silent buzzing of a moth as it fluttered through the night.

He saw everything.

Much more than elven eyes would’ve been able to see in this kind of darkness, and certainly more than any human could dream of. But then he wasn’t merely an elf anymore. And something told him that Ley wasn’t quite as human as she appeared to be.

So far, there had been no sign of her.

He’d been waiting for a little while now, hunkered down next to a boulder that blocked a good part of the ravine behind him. The moon was almost full, bright enough to illuminate the edge of the cliffs and the narrow path that led through them. 

An irresistible invitation for unsuspecting, panicked prey looking for an escape route.

He took another low breath, filled his nostrils with the heady, earthen scent of damp moss and decaying wood. There, beneath all those other smells of the forest, he picked up a faint hint of sweat and musky fur, almost undetectable at first, but the more he focused on it, the more intense it became, eventually so prominent it was almost visible, like a thin trail twirling through the air, leading straight to where the doe stood amidst the trees.

Lazily chewing, it lifted its head, scanned its surroundings with twitching ears.

Behind it, a pair of bright, yellow eyes flared up in the dark.

Not on the ground where he’d expected them, but above, between the low-hanging branches of a nearby beech. They stared in his direction for but a moment, then narrowed until they were nothing but faintly glowing slits. She melted into the shadows again, observing their quarry through half-closed eyelids.

Clever girl, he thought and grinned. She’s done this before.

Which supported his working theory that this shape she so habitually switched to was more than merely another weapon in her arsenal, but quite literally a means to survive. He’d watched her slip into it on several occasions now, not only when facing a fight, but also when wounded, frightened, or simply to traverse difficult terrain. She seemed to be intimately familiar with this form, as familiar as he was with his own skin.

The branch moved ever so slightly and he saw her tail move, quickly whipping through the air before Ley leaped down from her vantage point. She landed without making a sound, every muscle in her body working as her paws met the grass.

The doe kept chewing, watching the forest from big, wet eyes, entirely unaware of her predicament.

Astarion leaned forward, couldn’t help but smirk as he saw the big gray cat prowl back and forth in silence, eyes locked on their prey, preparing, waiting for the right moment to pounce. He could have sworn he saw her grin.

It took the doe a few long seconds to realize something was off.

When it finally turned its head, probably alerted by her scent rather than any kind of sound, Ley dug her claws into the ground, belly almost touching the grass, strained muscles trembling under her fur.

They looked at each other for a moment. One with rising panic, the other mildly amused.

In a flash of movement, the deer darted to the side, lightning-quick, but not quick enough. Ley sprung into motion immediately, caught up to it within a split second, blocked its path with her body, to which it adjusted its course on scrambling legs, bleating in fear as it galloped in the other direction.

A hoarse rumble emerged from her throat when she set after it, and Astarion remembered that he’d heard that before, when he ran into her the first time, when she’d done precisely the same thing she did now, chasing his prey into his arms.

She was laughing.

A few more leaps steered the doe away from the nearby cliffs and toward that bright ray of moonlight falling through the ravine behind him.

There was no time to think, he jolted forward and felled the heavy body with one smooth stab to the chest. A quiet, surprised bleat escaped its throat and its knees gave in, soft fur gracing his hand as it stumbled, tipped to the side and collapsed at his feet.

“Much obliged, my dear.”

He turned toward her, grinning from one ear to the other. Ley had just changed from four to two legs, a few bones still stirring and shifting under her skin as they returned to their usual form.

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said cheerfully, hand to her chest, indicating a polite, little bow. “That and to burn things.”

Astarion’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. The grin spread even wider.

“Oh, I had noticed your proclivity for fire,” he replied. “Didn’t expect you’d enjoy playing bloodhound quite that much though. Not that I’m complaining.”

He frowned, voice getting lower as his eyes wandered to the dark puddle that began to spread from under the deer’s corpse. “Damn it, that was a sloppy cut. If you’d excuse me, darling…”

Falling to one knee, he reached for its head and lifted it from the floor, exposing the wound and the dagger protruding from it. Saw the blood leaking down its neck, some of it already coagulated to wet clumps in its fur.

What a waste.

“Astarion…?”

There was a bit of unease in her tone, but he was in no state to pay attention.

Eyes locked on the red mess in his hands, on the lukewarm blood gushing from the wound as he ran his thumb against it, he leaned closer, greedily inhaling the mouth-watering scent through wide nostrils and parted lips.

“Look, I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but…“

Teeth pierced through skin, sunk deep into the deer’s flesh until they found the artery. A deeply relieved sigh escaped him, muffled by soft fur as the first drops reached his tongue. Eyes closed, he pressed the delicate neck against his mouth, eagerly sucking and swallowing, only partly aware of the tremble in Ley’s voice and the vaguely familiar, musky scent now reaching his nostrils. 

“Astarion, get up… get up…!”

Now it was sheer panic, mixed with a hint of helpless frustration.

Reluctantly, his mind parted from the heady sensation of blood filling his mouth, and his eyes fluttered open.

Something big stomped over the ground behind his back. There was a wet, slightly irritated huff, followed by a low, disgruntled growl. He smelled fur. Not that of the deer, but of something bigger.

And much, much angrier.

Teeth parting from his feast, he lifted his head, slowly turning toward the sound of massive paws closing in from behind.

Then a shadow fell over him, large enough to block most of the moonlight falling through the ravine.

For a split second, he saw small, furiously glinting eyes and massive, clenching jaws, impatiently grinding as the bear lifted its snout, sniffing and salivating as it rose to its hind legs.

“Would you please move, for heaven ’s sake?!”

A firm push ripped him from his fear-induced paralysis.

Ley almost stumbled into him, hands clenching into his tunic, dragging him to the side, fast enough to get him out of reach as the beast jerked forward, maw ripped open in a furious roar - though not fast enough to avoid its teeth entirely herself. He heard cloth rip apart, torn to shreds as massive jaws closed around the hem of her cloak.

“Gods damn it!” He blurted out and staggered backward, pulling her along with one arm. “I just got that fixed up again!”

Ley snorted out a laugh, which was cut short as she flinched and dove to the left to dodge the slavering maw once more, jaws snapping shut less than an inch from where her face had been a second ago.

A gust of hot, stinking breath waved into his face and Astarion sneered, teeth gritted with disgust as the massive head turned toward him, tiny eyes glinting with malice.

He was wide awake, now that he had overcome the initial shock, adrenaline racing through his system, pulse hammering in his ears. With a devious smirk, he reached for his belt, unsheathing both daggers whilst shifting his weight from one leg to the other, ready to evade the next strike as the bear straightened up again.

“नै, अहाँ त’ नहि करैत छी।”

Ley’s frenzied voice came from the side and her hand flung forward, hurling a bright bolt of fire straight into the beast's face. Another one followed right after, scorching the skin around its eyes and filling the air with the distinct smell of singed hair.

It groaned with both anger and irritation, trying to blink away the burning pain as it returned its attention to her. She hissed another curse in her native tongue, sidestepped the paw crashing down on her, vanished into nothingness before it could reach, then reappeared on its back, frantically clutching both hands into its fur to keep balance.

“Showoff…” Astarion muttered, lips parting into a sly grin.

He ducked away from two more swipes that would have eviscerated him had he reacted a split second later, dodged yet another bite, only half paying attention to the familiar crackling sound as Ley shifted shape. From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse at her claws, burying into thick skin and drawing blood, then heard a low growl, followed by the wet sound of long canines tearing through flesh.

The bear roared and stumbled sideways, bucking and shaking his body like a wet dog to get her off its back, no longer paying any mind to the elf standing in front of it. Ley refused to let go, sank her claws and teeth even deeper into its neck.

As soon as Astarion saw an opening, he flew to the beast’s flank, plunged both daggers deep between its ribs, immediately tore them out again to launch the next assault. He didn’t pause for a second, kept slicing and slashing, dodging the occasional paw swipe as he continued to perforate the side of its chest with a frenzied flurry of stabs, carefully trying to avoid any fur that didn’t look like it belonged to the bear.

Growling with frustration, the beast staggered from left to right, neither able to escape the vice-like grip of Ley’s jaw nor the vicious bite of Astarion’s daggers. It groaned and panted, a heaving mountain of fur that became slower and more sluggish with every passing second and every opened wound, until, after what felt like several minutes, its knees finally gave in.

It plunged to the ground with a heavy thud that echoed through the ravine, whirling up small clouds of dust as it hit the dirt. With a last, defiant groan, it came to a rest, shivering as its lungs gave their last breath.

Then it lay still.

Silence stretched on for a moment. Then, as if it had been watching the spectacle in speechless awe, a bird resumed its sleepy chirping.

Swiping his daggers clean on the beast’s fur, Astarion noticed that his hands were trembling.

Right. Technically he still hadn’t had a chance to feed.

Not properly at least, he thought, throwing a quick glance at the now-cold deer carcass lying a few feet away.

A low groan drew his attention back to the bear.

Ley loosened her grip around the beast’s neck, whimpering almost inaudibly, and slowly lifted her head, gritting her teeth in what seemed to be an expression of pain.

“What’s the matter, darling?” He chuckled and cocked his head. “Sore teeth? Jaw cramped up a little?”

She growled and threw him an utterly unnerved look, then straightened up. It took her a moment to shift back, the transformation only half-finished as she slumped down to the ground, dragging the bear’s head with her, turning it to the side so its throat lay exposed.

“Oh, you’re such a sweetheart…”

There was more he wanted to say, a few more sappy remarks suiting the situation, but then his eyes fell on the still-pulsing vein, right where her fingers parted the bear’s fur.

Like a sleepwalker, he staggered forward and sunk to his knees, absently stroking her hand as he reached for the bear’s neck, unable to rip his gaze from the dark, faintly throbbing lines under its skin. The blood was probably still just as warm as it had been a minute ago.

“Hope you don’t mind if I just…”

Completely transfixed, he leaned in, parting thick hair with his fingers, mouth hovering over the vein for a moment before he flung forward.

She didn’t mind. Just mutely scrambled to her feet, panting and patting dirt off her legs.

The rest of the world faded into the background, leaving him only with the taste and smell of his quarry.

Astarion groaned with delight.

Not only was there something deeply satisfactory about sinking his teeth into the neck of a beast with a head four times the size of his own, but the taste itself was something completely novel.

Much different than the deer’s. More potent, more… raw. Intoxicating, almost.

Eyes pressed shut, he drank and drank, determined to let no drop go to waste, even after his hunger was sated, relishing the heady taste and the slight buzz that began to cloud his senses. He kept going until the warmth dissipated and the body between his hands began to feel stiff.

With a decadent sigh, he let go and leaned back, eyes fluttering open as he found his way back to the here and now.

“That was surprisingly quick,” Ley snickered somewhere behind him. “To drain a beast that size.”

Lips curling into a deeply satisfied smile, he rose to his feet.

“Drained?” He chuckled, gave her an approving once-over as he approached. “As insatiable as some of our… friends might think me to be, there’s no way I’m able to drain something like that all by myself.”

She was still busy trying to swipe the gore off her face as he approached, so far having only successfully managed to clean one side, the other still as blood-smeared as before.

He cocked his head and smirked.

“Enough left to sate your own appetites, should you still have room for dessert…”

Ley burst out in laughter.

“Thank you very much, but I rather prefer my meals cooked, if it’s all the same to you. Although now I’m slightly curious as to what raw bear tastes like. Didn’t have something like that in a while.”

“Hah!” He exclaimed triumphantly. “I knew it!”

“Knew what exactly?” She raised a brow at him in what was probably supposed to be mockery, but her lips curled upward nonetheless. “That I may have had to resort to a more carnivorous lifestyle at some point during my travels? For no other reason than plain old pragmatism?”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what you keep telling yourself,” he chuckled, leaning down until their eyes were at the same height. “And you’ve certainly convinced the others, most of them at least. But you’re not fooling me, darling. Yes, the first time you sunk your teeth into some unsuspecting neck might have been a tactical decision…”

Taking a small step forward, he brought his face closer to hers, lips parting into a grin as both her eyebrows wandered upward.

“… one you may have been reluctant to make, maybe even thought to be a little unsavory, but that changed, didn’t it? At some point, you’ve started to enjoy this…. And you still do, my dear, no sense in pretending otherwise.”

Rolling her eyes, Ley weighed her head indecisively. Then she shrugged. And smirked.

“I’ll admit, there’s a somewhat… exhilarating side to it. And I do have a habit of getting carried away a little, so… yes, I suppose you’re at least half-right. When it comes to spilling blood just for the sake of spilling blood, however, I fear I’m not as much of a kindred spirit as you think I am.”

Oh, but you are… He thought to himself, eyes glued to the red smear on her chin, leading down her neck, vanishing behind the collar of her shawl.

Beautiful thing, you most definitely are...

Of course, he’d consider her fairly attractive no matter the circumstances, but beautiful wasn’t necessarily the term he’d normally associate with someone like her. Though every now and then, when that fierce, uncompromising side she usually managed to hide so well, shone through that mask of light-hearted innocence, he couldn’t think of a more fitting one.

Were it not for those green eyes and the current lack of fangs, she might even pass as a vampire, pale-skinned and slender as she was, effortlessly moving with that sleek, cat-like grace, even in her human form.

Which was an oddly endearing notion.

Almost as endearing as that patient smile unfolding on her face as she looked up, waiting for him to break the silence that had been dragging on for a moment now.

Irritation crept over her features, and Astarion realized that somehow, his thumb had risen to her chin, slowly swiping up against the corner of her mouth, collecting a trail of blood that still wasn’t entirely cold, even though that may have just been due to the warmth of her skin.

Before he had a chance to process what was happening, he brought the red goo to his mouth and absently licked it off, entirely captivated by her slightly parted lips.

Part of him was aware that this was not like him, that this was a little too straightforward and might even be counterproductive if he wanted to seduce this pretty little thing, which was something he’d been planning to do for a while now.

The other part didn’t care.

He felt light-headed, almost drunk. Emboldened and ready to fire his full arsenal of long-practiced lines at her, anything to finally lure her in, drag her to his side and secure her allegiance for whatever horrors were waiting for them down the road. Maybe even convince her to face his own, personal horrors with him, should they ever make it as far as Baldur’s Gate.

Even a vampire lord was vulnerable to fire, after all.

Forcefully pushing the thought aside, he noticed that Ley was still staring at him, seemingly frozen in place, immobilized by his brazen advances.

Thumb still hovering over his lower lip, he observed her, cautiously, like a particularly skittish animal, already alert and prone to take flight at any moment. This situation was so much more fragile than the previous part of the evening. Brute force and bloodlust may have brought down the beast lying in the dirt behind him - this one, on the other hand, required a delicate touch, and even with that, there was a good chance he’d scare her off.

He could sense her heartbeat, thrumming and throbbing in her veins, saw the muscles in her shoulders and her face tense. And yet, there was no fear, no trepidation in her eyes. No discomfort, just irritation and something that might indicate a hint of… uncertainty? Indecision?

Whatever he was going to do, he would have to be quick about it.

“I couldn’t resist… Apologies,” he murmured, voice much softer than usual. “You’re far, far more tempting than you realize.”

She hummed, gave a small, half-amused, half-bashful smile, eyes darting to the side and cheeks flushed the slightest bit of pink. Arms crossed, though seemingly more as a means to soothe herself than as a defensive stance, her fingers absently fumbled with the edge of her shawl.

“I mean it…” He whispered. “And what if you’re right, what if I do see you as something of a kindred spirit? Not because you happen to be vicious in a fight, or make a habit of going for the throat, just as I tend to do…”

He took one small, deliberately hesitant step forward, his chest now mere inches from hers, lifted his hand, noticed the slight tremble in her breath, so he brought it to her forearm instead of her cheek.

“… but because you’re here with me,” two fingers ghosted over her knuckles, over the back of her hand and further up. “Because you’ve been nothing but a sweetheart, right from the start…”

He leaned in, just a little bit, enough to bring his face closer to her ear.

Ley’s lips parted, but if there had been something she wanted to say it got lost the very second his breath brushed against her neck. She shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment, to which a small, satisfied smile crept over Astarion’s features.

Encouraged by her racing heartbeat, he lifted his hand to her face, gently stroking down her jawline, and brought his mouth to her ear, lips almost close enough to meet her skin.

“… I’ve thought about this, from the very first moment I laid eyes on you.”

One finger under her chin, he tilted it upward ever so slightly. 

“Would it be so terrible to simply let go for a moment…?”

Lips trailing lower, his breath ghosted down to where the thick artery on the side of her neck throbbed and pulsated under her skin. She still didn’t give any sign of discomfort, just shivered under his touch, holding her breath.

“… to give in, let go of your worries, just for a little while…”

Right at that spot, just above her collarbone, where the call of her blood was nigh-on irresistible, he lowered his mouth and instinctively parted his lips, feeling the urge to bite rise within him - not because hunger drove him to it, but simply because he could.

It wasn’t his teeth that met her neck, however, but a long, incredibly tender kiss.

Ley shivered. A stifled sigh escaped her throat and she leaned into the touch.

Not timid in the least, he thought. No, she’s just starving.

He raised his head, cupping her face with one hand, the other still under her chin. Gaze locked in on her trembling lips, then trailing upward, he saw her eyes open as well, pupils dilated, filled with burning need and a hungry, desperate kind of yearning. He smiled contentedly, tilting her head to the side, mouth eagerly descending on hers-

“Don’t. Please.”

Gentle fingers seized his cheek, a hand came to rest on his sternum.

Visibly struggling to regain her composure, Ley peered up at him, the familiar, patient smile dancing around the edge of her mouth.

“Really…?” He paused and stared at her, utterly bewildered.

“Really.”

“Even though you’re so clearly… in need of what I’m offering?”

 She gave a half-snorted laugh.

“Charming as ever.”

“Merely stating a fact, darling.” He smirked, still a bit baffled. “One I’m not used to seeing people resist that stubbornly, If I’m being honest.”

“Oh, my!” She chuckled, taking a step back. “Have I broken your streak? Insulted your honor? If so, I’m terribly sorry.”

“My honor?” Now it was his turn to laugh. “My dear, if there’s one thing you really needn’t be concerned about, it’s that. No, I suppose I am just curious, as to why you would deny yourself the pleasure… It’s not like there are any strings attached, you’ve got nothing to lose, as far as I can see…”

“Aside from my honor, you mean?” She grinned, then her expression became somewhat more serious. “I won’t lie, it’s more than a little tempting. Which you very well know. But it’s also not… me.”

“I’m just not the one you’ve laid your eyes on, that’s what you mean to say, isn’t it?”

Astarion grinned, raising a brow, and snickered as he saw her enervated eye roll.

“How are people so convinced that…” She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Look, there’s nothing going on on that front and no, that’s not the reason.”

“Not the only reason, at least…” He quipped, voice getting a tad softer as the last remainder of her smile vanished from her face. “Oh sweetheart, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Ley inhaled sharply, the look on her face now downright annoyed. One hand absently rubbed the spot on her neck where his lips had been but a moment ago.

“I really wish we could all just drop that topic, allow me to learn a few useful spells from the man - without making a fuss about it - and then move on to more important matters.”

“Is it the whole Mystra-thing?” Astarion ran a finger over his chin. “The whole ‘I’ve bedded a goddess, glimpsed at her hitherto forbidden domains and still sought to cross her boundaries’ business? Yes, I’d thought that was a bit much, even for my taste-”

“Why did I come with you again?” She cut him off, voice more tired than upset. “I’m starting to regret some of my recent life choices. Haven’t so far, but now, all of a sudden, I do.”

Oh, that one hurt, he thought. Bit too close to home perhaps.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, dear,” he cooed, throwing her a mischievous smirk. “He still trips over his feet every time he claps eyes on you.”

“Mhm… sure.”

Ley’s tone was ice-cold now.

“Look, I’ve survived too long and done too well on my own to just… throw myself into the arms of some random stranger the second they make a move. That goes for outrageously impertinent vampires, slightly pretentious wizards, as well as anyone else. I’d rather embark on another six-year voyage in absolute silence than throw all sense of dignity and self-respect overboard.”

Astarion hummed amusedly, though not without a hint of concern.

For a very brief moment, he’d caught a glimpse of someone else under that mask of unrelenting assertiveness. An endlessly exhausted, hollow face, that of someone who had spent way too much time in the dark. Of someone who already made peace with their fate of having to observe the world of the living from afar.

A split second later, she was back to her prior, mildly disgruntled self, though now with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Oh, perfectly clear, my dear…” He cocked his head, waving his hand at her with a little flourish. “Though, may I point out that six years out there may yet be preferable to waiting for the wizard to take initiative?”

“For the love of…”

“I’ve been wondering what’s keeping him so long,” his lips parted into a wide grin. “But considering recent revelations, I suppose he’s afraid he might explode…”

She scoffed and turned to leave, shaking her head in disbelief, one hand absently fumbling with her scarf, pulling it tighter around her neck.

“… either that or the orb does.”

“Shadowheart was right. You are a menace.”

Chapter Text

Respite

*

They had been gone for over an hour now and the cold fist around Gale’s heart tightened its grip with every passing minute.

At first, he had forcefully pushed his worries aside, retreating to his tent after everyone had finished their dinner and the last preparations for the coming day had been dealt with. He fished that old tome, the one they had found in the depths of that necromancer’s lair, from one of his many book-bearing satchels, made a half-hearted attempt to read the first page like he had planned to do for several days, but so far, hadn’t had a chance to.

He tried to concentrate, but his gaze merely drifted over the parchment, not reading a single word, eyes occasionally flicking in the direction where they had vanished between the trees.

The book didn’t approve of his distractedness, tried to lure him in with hushed, impatient murmurs, which, under normal circumstances, would have piqued his curiosity enough to commit to endless hours of arduous, intensely focused study. Now, its whispers were drowned by the flood of increasingly worried thoughts, accompanied by visions of all those horrific scenarios she might have got caught up in, each of them more disquieting than the one before.

Which was nonsense, he told himself.

She was quite capable of taking care of herself, he knew that. They all did.

Even if for some unlikely reason, Astarion - or something else entirely - might have got the better of Ley, that thing slumbering inside her wouldn’t allow her to come to harm, would burn any threat to a smoking pile of ash before it could cause real, lasting damage.

Provided it wasn’t posing a threat itself.

Which was entirely possible, should she be driven into a corner or, heavens forbid, suffer life-threatening injuries like she had done back at the temple.

Which led him to yet another deeply unsettling thought.

As undisciplined and obtuse as they were, the goblins had still been able to successfully strip her of her powers and trap her in that gods-awful cage. It was almost ironic, to think that something as simple as a crude, makeshift toxin had been enough to effectively render her helpless.

A fact that the vampire was undoubtedly aware of. After all, he had been the first to lay eyes on her that day.

And dabbling with poison, as he had demonstrated on many occasions now, happened to be one of his specialties.

An image flitted into his mind, of her face, hollow and pale, lifeless eyes staring up into the night sky. Another one followed, this time featuring a blood-smeared Astarion, sneering and licking his lips as he hovered over her neck, unaware of the roiling wildfire flickering through her ribs, ready to lash out, to turn him into a smouldering lump of flesh and Ley along with him.

Surely he wouldn’t be that dense, Gale thought to himself. He may be impertinent and greedy, but by no means is he an idiot.

That didn’t rule out the possibility of them having run into trouble, however. The unexpected kind of trouble, the sort that hit fast and hard, not leaving room for well-planned countermeasures, potentially forcing her to draw from that volatile well of power, no matter the consequences.

Or there could be an entirely different reason for their delayed return.

One that didn’t imply any kind of violence at all.

Another picture, unsavoury and way too detailed for his liking, appeared before his mind’s eye and Gale gnashed his teeth in frustration.

Downside of having a vivid imagination, he thought, then slammed the half-forgotten book shut. Pull yourself together, Dekarios. This is wildly unbecoming.

It wasn’t like he had any right to judge.

Frankly, he didn’t even have the right to an opinion on the matter, considering the dire circumstances of their situation and the bleak outlook on what the future promised to have in store. If she was able to find some solace in the elf’s arms, that should be considered a good thing, a well-deserved and long-overdue remedy to the insufferable loneliness her recent years had undoubtedly been tainted by.

Perhaps it was a good thing for him as well. Forcing him to finally let go of this persistent, decidedly inappropriate fantasy, this foolish notion that he of all people could catch the eye of someone like her.

As if the occasional touch and that enchanting smile of hers would in any way indicate the possibility of there being real, palpable interest on her part. As if he, the battered, miserable shell of a man, struggling to regain even a fraction of his former power, could hope her reasons for seeking him out as much as she did had anything to do with that kind of affection.

… But then she had kissed him, had she not?

Without thinking, he lifted a hand to the side of his chin.

Right here, he marvelled, fingers absently trailing over his beard. Her lips were right here.

Another cultural difference, perhaps. Just a quick, absentminded goodnight smooch for someone she’d grown fond of, or maybe - a considerably worse notion - sheer pity, for his condemnable lack of restraint during their botched excursion into the Weave, for his embarrassingly awkward reaction to his sudden emotional outburst…

“Gale, buddy, you alright in there?”

He winced and turned around, hand falling from his chin as he looked up into Karlach’s slightly worried smile. The tiefling had hunkered down in front of his tent, poking her head through the opening.

“Haven’t heard anything from you for a while now, getting a little worried, mate…”

A half-snorted laugh escaped him.

“I’m perfectly fine, I assure you,” he chuckled and gave her a weak grin that didn’t seem to convince her at all. On the contrary, the steep line between her furrowed brows deepened even more. “Honestly, there’s plenty of other, much more urgent matters to be worried about. My well-being should be the least of your concerns.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Nori said…”

She threw a glance over her shoulder, then glanced back at him.

“Look, Wyll just opened the last keg of Frostkiss Ale. How about you come back and join us for a bit?” She scratched her neck, then cleared her throat. “Get you out of your head a little, at least until those… urgent matters come back from wherever the heck they’ve gone to.”

Gale scoffed and shook his head, considered his options for a second, then nodded reluctantly and gestured for her to make room for him.

“You’re not troubled at all?” He said, groaning as he scrambled to his feet, knees aching from the long time he spent sitting in that cramped-up position. “Not even a little?”

“Nope,” she exclaimed cheerfully, grinning widely as they turned toward the campfire. “Don’t really get why you guys all got your knickers in a twist. They’re gonna be fine, you’ll see.”

“Wish I had that kind of optimism,” he mumbled, giving Nori and Wyll a tired smile as they approached them.

“Oh, ye of little faith…” Karlach sighed with a smile, then carefully plucked the mug handed to her from the warlock’s fingers.

The young man hummed amusedly and waved them closer. He seemed to share the tiefling’s chipper, carefree attitude, pouring Gale a mug of ale, and squeezing it into his hand before he even had a chance to sit down.

“To new horizons and many more swashbuckling heroics for the bards to sing about,” Wyll proclaimed, judging by the slight slur in his speech already quite tipsy, toasting Gale and then Nori with a wide grin. “I sure hope our resident minstrel is taking notes, so future generations don’t miss out on any step of our journey.”

Nori didn’t respond right away, just stared into the fire, one corner of her mouth twitching. With visible effort, she raised her tankard, gave Wyll a half-hearted smirk, and downed whatever was left of her drink in one go.

One look at the halfling’s unusually pale face and the subtle, nervous tapping of her foot told Gale he wasn’t the only one on edge. Her eyes darted up and met his for a second, silently acknowledging their shared apprehension. Which was hardly surprising, considering that so far, she had been the only one exposed to the elf’s sanguinary cravings and knew all too well what a disaster that whole excursion could turn into.

“Oh boy, am I taking notes…” she said quietly. “Every single step, each and every flagrant mishap-“

The sound of rustling leaves somewhere on the far side of the camp cut her sentence short.

Nori’s eyes widened, and she craned her neck, staring over his shoulder. He turned around, a wave of relief rolling through him as he heard the familiar sound of Ley’s voice, quietly snickering at something Astarion whispered into her ear as they emerged from the forest.

“There we go!” Karlach cheered, hailing them with her tankard, then leaned toward Gale. “See? Told you so.”

He hummed in response, brows knotting as he saw Ley’s hand rise to her shawl, pulling the collar tighter around her neck.

Then his gaze fell on the insufferably smug expression on Astarion’s face, red eyes locking in on his own, lips curled into a taunting smirk.

“Why the long faces, you two?” He sneered at both him and Nori, who had got up from the log and was now scuttling over to Ley. “Did we miss anything? Some new, juicy drama unfold during our absence?”

The provocation was so blatantly obvious, Gale might have even found it amusing, had he not been as agitated, no - livid as he was.

The nerve of this man, using her kindhearted, caring nature to lure her into the woods, to then go against his word, fully aware of the risks, which, in her case, were not only limited to the dangers severe blood loss could pose. And then he led her back here, acting as if she was some well-trained pet that had just fulfilled a task so mediocre it wasn’t even worth acknowledging.

“Just drained the last one of those,” Wyll said cheerfully, slapping a hand on the now-empty casket on the ground. “Hope you don’t mind. We talked about leaving some for the two of you, but the temptation turned out to be irresistible.”

Astarion put up a seemingly innocent smile, waving at the warlock in a polite, half-dismissive gesture. “I’d never judge a man for giving in to temptation,” he purred, cocking a brow and throwing an ambiguous glance back at Ley, who tried to appease Nori’s barrage of questions with raised hands. “Besides, my thirst has been thoroughly quenched for today.”

“Wow…” Karlach said quietly, visibly appalled by the notion. “Really? And you need to rub it in like that?”

“Careful now, Astarion.” Gale heard himself say, surprised the words were able to find a way through the bile surging up in his throat. “This is thin ice you’re treading on.”

“Is that so…?” A cheeky smile unfolded on the vampire’s lips, which turned into an expression of pretend surprise. “Oh… I see where this is going. Let me assure you, our dear friend remains completely unharmed…” One hand to his chest, he insinuated a polite little nod. “… on my honour. I’d never dare to lay so much as a finger on her.”

Setting his mug down next to Karlach’s, Gale glared at the elf with barely held-back resentment. He had picked up on the mischievous sparkle in Astarion’s eyes and was now fairly sure that every single one of his words had been a blatant lie.

“I would certainly hope so…” Gale muttered. “That would be a mistake you likely wouldn’t survive.”

In the background, Karlach gasped quietly.

Unwilling to prolong this exasperating conversation any more than necessary, he got to his feet, gaze no longer fixed on Astarion, but the two women behind him.

“Come now,” Wyll took a quick step closer. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Surely there is no need for things to escalate. Look, no one’s been harmed, so…”

He sounded downright alarmed, which gave Gale pause. A moment later he realised, with some amusement, that his behaviour could very well be understood as genuinely hostile.

With a scoff, he smiled and shook his head at Wyll, to which a little of the tension seemed to fall from his shoulders.

To think they could be under the impression that of all the people in this camp, he would be the one to resort to such drastic measures. The notion was so utterly ridiculous, he couldn’t help but chuckle as he passed the elf, not doing him the favour of acknowledging the smugness in his expression.

As if a minor, if arguably justified dispute like this one would be enough for him to start frothing at the mouth and throw himself at the opponent like some brutish tavern brawler.

Although there was a certain appeal to the idea of scorching that awfully complacent grin off Astarion’s face. He’d only have to turn around and utter a single word, accompanied by one simple gesture to chuck a well-deserved handful of fire right in his-

“… no need to fuss over me like that,” Ley’s voice was now within earshot. “Did you really think I’d go if I wasn’t sure I’d be able to-“

“Absolutely. That is precisely what I thought. And still do.”

There was a terse kind of exasperation to Nori’s words as if she was scolding a small child who had decided to touch the hot stove a few too many times.

Ley gave an irritated scoff and opened her mouth to reply, but the halfling was quicker.

“You may not be used to people worrying about you, honey, but that’s what you’re gonna have to deal with from now on. And yes, I am pretty sure that, if he had the audacity to ask, you’d just tilt your neck and say ‘go ahead’.”

Gale winced at the notion and stepped up to them, worried eyes wandering to Ley’s hand, which was still fumbling around with the fabric.

She gave him a warm smile, fingers seizing their movement for a second, then returned her attention to the discontented halfling in front of her. “Nori, don’t get me wrong, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m not-“

“This isn’t about being sweet,” the bard’s voice was a little softer now, yet no less chastising. “It’s about you having a fucking bomb in your chest, not unlike this guy here,” she gesticulated toward Gale. “Now, yours may not be the ticking kind and also doesn’t seem to require feeding, but from what I’ve heard it’s still rigged to go off the moment you have your back against the wall - or it thinks that you do. Isn’t that how this works?”

Ley weighed her head, throwing him a pleading glance from the side.

“Not exactly, I mean… yes, technically…” Pinching her nose with her free hand, she blinked down at the halfling. “But that wasn’t the case, not even remotely close.”

“He didn’t get you then?” Gale asked, brows raising. “I was under the impression that…”

“Get me…?” She stared at him for a moment, mouth agape and baffled. “No, he didn’t get me, Gale. Hells, the two of you are absolutely impossible…”

With one determined yank, she tugged the hem of her shawl down to her collarbone and turned on her heels in a small pirouette, allowing for a full examination of her dirt-stained, yet otherwise unblemished, neck.

“There. Satisfied?”

Nori exhaled sharply and Gale felt a warm gush of relief flow through his core, followed by a sharp pang of dismay as he realised there may yet be another reason she couldn’t keep her fingers from that spot.

“Relieved, to a degree…” he said, which was nothing but the truth. There was no reason to withhold his concerns, at least none outweighing the necessity to address certain pressing matters. “Though it changes nothing about the fact that testing the limitations of a volatile condition such as yours…” He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the side for a second. “… or mine, for that matter, doesn’t strike me as particularly wise.”

Ley blinked twice, raising a brow at him.

“No slight on your judgement, of course…” He spluttered hastily, an embarrassed smile unfolding on his lips. “I would never… Who better to determine…”

Nori looked up at him, her expression somewhere between amused and annoyed.

“Believe what Gale is trying to say is that maybe…“ One small halfling finger poked in the direction of Ley’s chest. “Just maybe… we could keep the nightly excursions without any form of backup to a minimum…?”

“Agreed,” he sighed, observing both of them cautiously. “As commendable as your reasoning may be, these woods are by no means safe, most certainly not in the dark.”

Gaze flicking from one to the other in utter bewilderment, Ley huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“So nobody bats an eye when I shred a fully grown ogre to bits, but as soon as a bloody bear shows up, you suddenly no longer think me capable of handling myself. Am I getting this right?”

Gale chuckled, hand raised in a conciliating gesture.

“Dear gods no, that was not what-“

“A bear?!” the halfling blurted out. “You went out to help the guy get his hands on some light dinner and a fucking bear is what he picks for the main course?”

The three heads at the campfire turned in their direction.

Nori stared at the elf, face unreadable. “That right? You ate a bear?”

“I did indeed, my dear…” He exclaimed cheerily, winking at Ley. “… and it was delicious.”

Without further ado, he returned his attention to the drink in his hand and the snickering tiefling at his side.

Gale kept staring at the back of his head for a moment longer, indecisively meandering between feeling grateful his concerns were seemingly unwarranted and dreading to concede that this may very well be the change of heart he feared Ley was destined to have at some point. He couldn’t see another reason for Astarion’s preening and prancing, nor his outrageously provocative demeanour. Not to mention her perpetual, if unconscious urge to cover her neck.

How easy it had been, to slip into this incessant spiral of maudlin, nostalgic notions, each of them more preposterous than the other.

He should have known better than to give in to this undue, sentimental side of him. Should have seen this for what it was: a sprouting relationship with an amiable woman he was genuinely fond of. One whose company he relished and who happened to rely on his assistance in certain matters, even if his services likely wouldn’t be required for much longer, judging by the speed with which she absorbed new information.

One who had gone through a long phase of isolation, which he could unequivocally relate to, who had been looking for a way to end her lonely torment, which she deserved and he was unable to provide. And now, it seemed, she had found one.

A turn for the better, he tried to convince himself. Better for everyone involved.

“You’ll really need to let this go at some point,” Ley’s quiet voice came from behind him and he whirled around, blinking in irritation, unsure if this was yet another case of unintentional mind-reading or-

“Look, I fully understand why he caught your ire, I do…” she continued, not paying any heed to his reaction, gaze firmly fixed on Nori instead. “What I don’t understand is why someone as level-headed and reasonable as you still hasn’t made peace with the fact that there’s more than one amongst our troupe who has… special dietary needs.”

An impish smile dancing over her features, she threw Gale a glance from the side.

“No offence taken, I hope?”

He chuckled and shook his head, doing his best to reciprocate the smile, even if he wasn’t certain he liked being associated with the vampire when it came to such matters.

"That’s not the point. I don’t necessarily have a problem with what he eats…” Nori’s retort was accompanied by frantic gesticulation. “… or drinks. What concerns me is how far he’s willing to go for it.”

Ley sighed impatiently. In one quick, smooth move, she sat down on the floor, legs crossed in front of her, eyes now on the same height as the halfling.

“Which isn’t far at all, provided someone is willing to help out now and then.”

She wasn’t wrong. He knew that. No matter his personal animosities, there was no denying that the situation would be easier to handle if it were to be addressed openly, involving every member of their posse in the effort to come up with a solution.

“Fair point,” he said reluctantly, eyes darting from her crossed legs to the spot next to her, then leaning against one of the nearby barrels instead. “And yet, there’s no guarantee that this someone won’t come to harm in the process, seeing as he’s struggling quite a bit when it comes to controlling his cravings.”

Nori nodded vigorously.

“Which will remain a problem, no matter the circumstances, honey. The man just happens to be a bit on the unpredictable side and that-“

Ley cut her off with a quick, angry wave of her hand.

“If that’s what qualifies him for being seen as the kind of monster you apparently think him to be, let me remind you that the same could be said about both Gale and I. Karlach as well, come to think of it.”

The halfling’s mouth opened, her attempt to reply immediately repelled by Ley’s still-hovering hand, her voice now uncharacteristically sharp.

“I’m not done. I’d also like to remind you that you dubbed me ‘one of yours’ the other day, despite witnessing my condition’s hazardous potential. Now, shouldn’t that go for everyone in this camp?”

Her gaze flicked up to him, a furious glint dancing in her eyes.

“Am I being unreasonable here?”

Gale couldn’t help but smile, briefly pondering what the elf would say if he knew he had such a stalwart defender. Then again, it would probably be wiser not to let him know. There certainly was no need to boost his already overbearing ego.

Nori grinned and cocked her head, giving Ley an approving once-over.

“You’re willing to die on that hill, aren’t you, girl?”

“Not sure I’m that much younger than you,” Ley huffed, mildly annoyed. “But yes. Yes, I am.”

“You’re telling me you’re in your forties?” The bard quipped with disbelief, brows wandering up to her hairline.

“Well, give or take a decade…” Ley sighed and rolled her eyes. “None of that’s important right now. What I need to know is if people are going to be treated equally here, or if we’re playing favourites.”

“Would you look at that?” The halfling’s grin grew even wider. “I knew there was a rebellious streak in there-“

“Don’t even try to deflect. I’m not gonna let this go.”

Her tone was ice-cold now and for a moment, Gale felt a tad uneasy. There hadn’t been many occasions on which their small, yet fiercely headstrong leader had been defied quite that openly, and he knew all too well how quickly she was able to turn a discussion against whoever dared to challenge her.

Silence stretched on for a moment. Then Nori’s expression softened, and her grin turned into a warm, somewhat rueful smirk. She sighed and rubbed both hands over her eyes.

“And you’re right to do so…”

Blinking and smiling exhaustedly, she took a step toward the woman sitting before her, who for a split second looked like she was expecting some kind of adverse reaction.

Instead, she was dragged into a surprisingly firm halfling hug.

“Spunky girl,” he heard Nori mutter and chuckled at the perplexed look on Ley’s face, which became even more baffled as the bard pressed a quick, appreciative kiss to her cheek. “Boy, am I glad we got you out of that cage…” the bard mumbled, briefly winking at Gale as she withdrew.

“Does that mean-“ Ley said, her smile still a little bewildered.

“Yes, that means that he and I…” Nori nodded toward where Astarion was currently opening what seemed to be one of the last remaining bottles of Ashaba Dusk. “… are going to have some words. The kind you’ll very likely approve of.”

And with that, not waiting for a reply, she strolled off toward the campfire, leaving Gale with a suddenly very tired-looking Ley.

“Let me help you,” he chuckled, reaching for her hands to pull her up. She took them with a smile, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ under her breath as she rose to her feet.

“I suppose this is where the evening comes to its inevitable end,” he said, quietly humming as his gaze fell on the dark shadows under her eyes. “You seem overdue for a good night’s rest.”

Ley lifted her head, a hint of disappointment darting over her features.

“Oh…” she muttered, fumbling with her sleeve. “And here I was hoping I could join you for another reading session, pick up where we left off, so to speak. A little late for that now, I suppose…”

Gale paused for a moment, fighting the urge to throw a glance in the elf’s direction.

“Ah, you know me, last one to hit the hay, first to rise in the morning,” he then quipped cheerfully, reciprocating the smile unfolding on her lips. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I found another volume of that series at the traders’ earlier, ‘A is for Azuth and other Gods’, if that topic still sparks your curiosity.”

“It most definitely does,” she replied, gaze wandering over the stains on her pant legs and the dirt smeared over a good part of her forearms. “Although I believe it might be a good idea to take a quick dip into the river first, and…”

She fumbled with her hair, teeth gritted as her fingers plucked a tuft of ragged, dark fur from her braid.

“… get rid of all that…” Lips pouted with disgust and picked another, clumped-together whorl from her shoulder. “… bear.”

“Quite the fearsome tussle, I imagine,” Gale chuckled, watching her futile effort to brush several greasy clumps from her arm. “Though I believe you must have got the brunt of it. Astarion didn’t seem even remotely as mussed up.”

Ley grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

“Of course, he didn’t. What would people think if he got so much as a drop on his sleeve?”

Gale hummed amusedly at the notion of the elf, frantically dodging and weaving to keep his attire stain-free whilst Ley, completely unbothered, went on a fully unhinged rampage.

“I’ll come join you in a bit then,” she said, smiling as she turned to leave. “Will try to make it quick.”

“No need to rush,” he replied. “The night is still young, and I have nowhere else to be.”

He watched her saunter toward the river, waving at the others as she passed them.

When he turned to leave as well, his eyes fell on one of the open crates near the kitchen tent.

After a short moment of contemplation, absently scratching his beard, he walked over and pulled the last bottle of Ashaba Dusk as well as two mostly unblemished goblets from inside.

*

It took her forever to find a good spot.

Soap and fresh clothing in hand, Ley meandered down the riverbank, passing the stone formation where Shadowheart had plucked the arrow tips from her skin. She was well aware that the camp was far enough away, that there was no logical reason for feeling as exposed as she did, but she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

And so she kept wandering, aimlessly, further and further until finally, she recognised the glade she had fled to several days ago in that silly bout of panic when she had crumbled under the unbearable weight of Gale’s gaze.

This place felt safe. Safer than most other places, at least. A temporary haven, quiet and peaceful, granting refuge from flirtatious advances and heated discussions alike.

Peeling off the first layers of her blood-soaked, fur-stained clothes, Ley scolded herself internally.

She knew she was being irrational, downright stupid even. No prying eyes were lurking in the surrounding forest. None of the others would stumble into her here. She was alone, and there was no reason to get paranoid.

Freeing herself from her undergarments, she stumbled into the ice-cold water of the river, which was more of a brook at this point, shallow enough that she had to bend over to drench her hair.

Combing through wet strains and vigorously scrubbing her neck, her thoughts returned to the near miss of a seduction attempt she had managed to resist, even if doing so had been more of a struggle than she’d care to admit. Maybe she should have let go, should have given in for a moment as he had suggested so bluntly. She would have undoubtedly regretted her decision come morning, but in the long run, it may have made things a little easier.

In his defence, Astarion had played his cards well. Not that that was much of a task, her being the embarrassingly needy mess that she was, him being that sly, overconfident fox, knowing precisely what buttons to push to get her resolve to crumble.

Who, now that she thought about it, had been a little too eager. His features a little too composed, his honeyed words a little too flowery. His smile a little too doting and not quite reaching his eyes.

Like it was a chore he wanted to get off his list, Ley thought. Or some kind of payment for…

Well, for what? For helping him find something to eat? Unlikely. She enjoyed a good hunt as much as he did, a fact he was perfectly aware of.

Maybe some sort of forward payment, she thought, mindlessly fumbling with the soap. For a favour yet to be called in.

That seemed much closer to the truth, even if the thought of whatever that favour might be made her feel slightly uneasy. And yet, even more reason to believe that this guy wasn’t necessarily looking for a quick midnight tryst in the woods, but simply for someone to have his back.

Which she had unconsciously proven to be pretty much the moment they had entered the camp.

She paused for a moment, marvelling at the scent of her foam-covered hands.

How was it possible that something as mundane as soap could make her feel as good as she did right now? About to be squeaky clean, smelling of lavender and rosewater. A scent so luxurious and ravishing, it felt like a bit of a waste to use it just for herself.

Working the foam into her hair, Ley’s thoughts returned to the post-hunt argument Nori had forced upon her.

She had been thankful, for the most part, that there were not one, but two souls fond enough of her to worry about her well-being. That notion was as new as it was wonderful, even if she probably hadn’t done a particularly good job of getting that across.

But then again, she didn’t really have a chance to, did she?

The barrage of questions and what-ifs had thrown her off guard entirely, derailing her counterarguments before she had a chance to finish the sentence. Like back in her days as an apprentice, when the High Engineer would call her out in front of the others because she had managed to burn through yet another condenser engine without notifying him the very same second.

And it would have been amusing if the bard hadn’t had that deadly serious look in her eyes. As had Gale, for that matter.

She’d had to raise her voice, had to get angry to make her point, which, in hindsight, might have been a little too daring. For a moment there, she had expected to receive some kind of chastising backlash, judging by the disgruntled look on Nori’s face as well as the wizard’s baffled expression. The reaction, however, had once again confirmed Ley’s exuberantly high opinion of the halfling.

Compassion, kindness, and enough self-consciousness to not feel threatened by critique. Rare traits, even under normal circumstances.

The combination somewhat reminded her of her brother.

A fond smile unfolded on Ley’s lips as she squeezed the water out of the hair.

Migo would have made the same kind of fuss, might have been even bossier, probably tempted to grab her by the shoulders in an attempt to shake some sense into her. But he, as well, would have been willing to listen to reason. Sooner or later.

Humming contentedly, she waded back to the riverbank, dried herself with an absentminded flash of heat that briefly engulfed her skin, and then slipped into her delightfully pristine, newly acquired attire. Several minutes later, her old clothing was stain-free as well, and sufficiently dry to be folded and tucked under her arm.

Whistling some old, half-forgotten tune, Ley made her way back to camp, head brimming with questions about gods and books and all things magical.

*

She was greeted by an overly excited Scratch, as was so often the case nowadays.

Dropping his drool-covered ball in the dirt, conveniently in the way so she couldn’t simply pass him by, he gave a heartbreaking whimper, eyes fixed on the squeaky little thing in front of his nose.

As if no one had been paying attention to him all day.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna pull that off, sweetie,” Ley muttered. “I know they’ve kept you busy.”

With a mildly disgusted smile, she picked up the ball and chucked it toward the other side of the camp, hoping to distract him long enough so she could make her escape.

“Seems he’s taken a shine to you,” Gale chuckled as she approached him, unsure how to deal with the slick on her fingers other than swiping it off on her brand-new pants.

The tent looked a little different than the evening before.

He had opened the entrance wide enough to reveal most of the interior, giving way to a neatly arranged pile of satchels and books, as well as his bedroll, rolled up and shoved to the side. The wizard sat half-inside, his back to one side of the opening, supported by one of the several pillows cluttering the floor.

It looked cosy, downright homey, and - were those… floating candles?

“To be fair, he’s taken a shine to pretty much everyone,” she countered, smiling as he moved his legs to make room for her, placing the pillow he’d given her the day before on the opposite side of the entrance. “Those big, wet puppy eyes are certainly not just reserved for me.”

As if to confirm her point, they heard a low voice mumble something unintelligible from a few paces away, followed by a series of furious squeaks.

“See?” She pointed in the vague direction of where the mumbling now turned into frenetic, cooed gibberish.

Gale nodded and smiled, then raised a brow at her damp fingers as she got to her knees. “May I…?” He grinned, humming approvingly as Ley held out her hand. One quick incantation and a snap of his fingers later, every remaining trace of dog drool had evaporated into thin air.

“I really need to learn that one…” She inspected her hand from both sides, then looked up. “I mean… Thank you kindly. Much obliged, as per usual.”

“No need to thank me, Ley,” Gale replied, then reached behind him to fish something out of the tent. “You’re more than welcome, as I’ve said before. Now here…”

She heard glasses clinking, cocking her head as he produced two goblets and a bottle.

“… is a little something I managed to save from the others’ clutches. Dare I say without any of them noticing, much to my surprise.”

“Proving my point about you being stealthier than people give you credit for.”

Her remark was accompanied by a teasing smirk and quirked eyebrows, to which Gale responded with a sceptical grin as he handed her the chalices.

Holding one in each hand whilst he poured the wine, Ley craned her neck and took a look around.

About a dozen different-sized candles bobbed up and down mid-air, within the tent as well as outside, their proximity to the linen walls seemingly not bothering him in the least. Throwing another glance at the piled-up packs and tomes, a pang of embarrassment darted through her guts. This man was… organised.

Back on Aman and her second home between the stars, ship included, her way of keeping things in order mostly followed the doctrine of ‘if I don’t remember where I put it, it can’t have been important’, leaving most of her belongings thrown together in semi-structured, chaotic patterns. The only exceptions were her notes and the workshop. Those two were meticulously sorted and maintained with a level of diligence that, in some people’s eyes, probably bordered on mania.

Handing Gale his now-full glass, she leaned back a little, testing the sturdiness of the tent wall that he, on his side, so casually slumped back against.

“This is… uhm…” she mumbled, half-expecting the whole thing to collapse and bury them momentarily. “… a nice surprise? One that appears to defy gravity in more than one way.”

“Well, there are certain benefits to a wizard’s education, you see…” Gale chuckled, tilting his head. “One of them being able to lock a variety of small items in temporary stasis, no longer amenable to the laws of physics. And secondly, you’re correct, having the means to fortify a simple structure, such as this one, so one may rest their weary back whilst embarking upon yet another literary excursion.”

So you enchanted your tent because your back hurts, she thought, giggling internally. Of course, you did.

“I… like it?” She grinned, appreciatively raising her glass to the candles close to her. “Solved the lighting issue as well…”

Gale’s eyes darted to the side, a corner of his mouth twitching upward.

It took her a moment to realize that they were, once again, sitting in a toasty bubble of warmth. “… or ambience-related issues in general, it would seem…”

“Not sure I catch your meaning,” he replied, giving her the most innocent of smiles.

“Is that so…?” Ley raised a brow, squinting her eyes. “Must be the candles then, I suppose.”

“Has to be the candles.”

“Naturally.”

“Glad we can agree on that.”

Still smirking, Ley lifted the chalice to her face, inhaling the heady scent for a moment, watched by a contentedly humming Gale, then took a sip.

“Is this one of those Astarion so vehemently told people not to touch?” she chuckled after a second of silent contemplation. “You snatched this bottle from under our resident pickpocket’s nose?”

“Oh, did he now?” Gale’s brows furrowed into a sceptical frown, an impish smile unfolding on his features. “Claim the spoils of our collective efforts solely for himself? Why, I had no idea…”

Ley burst into violent giggles.

“And here I thought I was the one with too much criminal energy…” she snickered a moment later, shoulders still trembling. “Is this still about the thing from earlier? About the bite that never happened?”

Gale’s smile froze, his expression hardening, turning into something Ley wasn’t sure what to make of. He inhaled sharply, absently twisting the wineglass between his fingers.

“Not necessarily about the bite that never happened, no.” His voice, usually so calm and composed, was now strained by the effort to withhold his anger. “Though I have to admit, I find it difficult to come to terms with the… willingness with which you committed yourself to his mercy. A vampire’s mercy, for heaven’s sake - I know, I know…”

He made an appeasing gesture as Ley opened her mouth to give a heated rebuttal.

“I’m well aware that is technically none of my business, and might even come across as overbearing. So perhaps it would be best to leave it at that, having shared my thoughts with you and knowing your stance on the matter.

“However, my apprehension isn’t only based on what transpired earlier this evening. That merely added fuel to the fire. The main reason for my concerns is the bite that did happen, as I’m sure you remember all too well. And the ones that will undoubtedly occur in the not-so-distant future. My point being…” He looked at her apologetically, head tilted to the side. “That I believe your continued efforts to sate Astarion’s hunger, commendable as they may be, will eventually have a cost. And something tells me he won’t be the one that pays it.”

Eyes flicking to the ground for a moment, he cleared his throat and smiled at her, visibly fighting the urge to keep going.

Ley didn’t answer right away. She tried to find the right words to explain how utterly unfounded his worries were but was also delighted that someone she held in such high regard deemed her worthy of those worries in the first place.

“I understand, Gale. I promise I do,” she said quietly and her free hand instinctively reached out, briefly touching his knee in a comforting gesture. His expression softened immediately. “And yet, I stand by what I said earlier. This problem will not solve itself. Neither will it go away if we choose to ignore it. And both of us know what that implies.”

Her gaze lingered on the faint markings trailing over the side of his face.

“The only reasonable thing to do is to figure out how to live with it until a better solution presents itself. And yes, I’m well aware that this has a good chance to go sideways at some point. That I might end up with a pair of teeth in my neck because his cravings got the better of him. Or worse - that someone else might. Which is precisely why I signed up for this.”

“You can’t mean that-“

“Wait, let me finish,” she chuckled, fingers grazing his knee again. “Just in case that wasn’t clear by now - I am very, very hard to kill. I’ve survived injuries that should have, by all means, ended me. That would have been fatal to anyone else. I’ve experienced my fair share of blood loss. Severe blood loss. And yet, I am here, alive and well. Because the Thing won’t let me go.

“It is very much possible to take me out of the picture, mind you, at least for a while. I’ve ended up unconscious on numerous occasions, paralysed and waiting for it to stitch a few necessary bits back together. Until the pump was in working condition again.”

She tapped against her chest, right above her heart.

“And don’t get me wrong, there may very well come a day when my physical form is beyond the point of saving and the Thing will have to look for another host. But I’m fairly certain Astarion won’t be the cause of that. The worst that can happen in that regard, is that you’ll one day find a very rueful vampire kneeling over a very dead-looking me. The latter likely being up and about in a matter of days.”

Gale stared at her with wide-open eyes, completely flabbergasted.

“You can’t be serious,” he blurted out, almost spilling his wine as he snapped forward. “Even if we were to forget about the potentially disastrous consequences due to your… guests’s protective instincts…” He made an all-encompassing gesture in her general direction. “Throwing yourself in harm’s way without so much as a hint of hesitation, for no other reason than that of your wounds closing a smidge faster than others, is neither required nor expected - nor is it in any way reasonable.”

He paused for a moment, visibly struggling to regain his composure. When he continued, his voice was back to its usual calm, soothing tone. Ley caught his hand rising to her arm from the corner of her eye, absently brushing against the sleeve.

“You’ve seen for yourself what means we have to mend wounds, to bring one back from the brink of death if need be. Or in some cases, even defy Kelemvor himself, be that by utilising certain, if slightly difficult-to-procure scrolls, or requesting the services of our elusive visitor, who has more than once proven to be well-acquainted with matters of that nature.”

Ley fumbled with her glass, trying to scrape together what little information she had about that ‘Withers’ character - which was not much, other than him being referred to whenever the topic of death came up.

“You’ve yet to be introduced, I’m aware,” Gale chuckled at her befuddled expression. “And believe me when I say that is a good thing. Much preferable to the alternative. Means no one had to be brought back so far. Since you’ve joined us, that is.”

“Other than you,” she mumbled and looked to the ground, unable to hold his gaze, to look into those eyes that had been so unbearably cold and empty just the day before.

“Perceptive as always,” he said softly, giving Ley an apologetic smile as she lifted her head again. “Although I am certain he would have shown up sooner or later, had you, for some reason, not found a way to remedy my demise. He appears to know precisely when and where his assistance is required.”

“So, this happened before?”

“Indeed, it has…” Gale’s gaze trailed off for a moment. “A few days after the crash. Shadowheart being the first one to go. Torn apart trying to hold her ground against a flock of harpies, unfortunately, distracted by her effort to maintain the Silence spell warding us against their song.”

Once again, Ley raised a brow in confusion.

“That’s how they lure in their prey, you see,” he hurried to explain before continuing with a half-hearted smile. “Anyway, they swarmed her before anyone had a chance to react, her face all gore and feathers when the fighting was done. Nasty business, that, let me tell you...” He sighed, slowly rotating the glass in his hand. “We were already contemplating appropriate burial rites when Withers appeared and resolved the situation. The second one was Wyll. Tried talking down a raging owlbear mother, with her cub right behind. Needless to say, she didn’t approve.”

Ley hummed and sipped on her wine. Then a question popped into her mind.

“Shouldn’t he then, in theory…” she said, eyes flicking to the faint, purple lines on Gale’s face again. “… be able to bring you back, should the Orb… You know…”

“If it erupts, you mean?” He gave a stifled laugh. “I somewhat doubt that me being reduced to a mist of Netherese vapours leaves enough for him to work with. Alas, when that day comes, I fear there’s nothing to be done about it.”

A gush of anger surged through Ley’s guts, leaving the sour taste of bile on the back of her tongue. How dare this man talk about his death without the faintest hint of defiance in his tone, as if his continuous presence amongst the living wasn’t in any way significant.

“That won’t happen,” she growled, voice a little too agitated for her liking, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less. “Just like Nori said. You may have made your peace with that idea, but I sure haven’t. And I’m not the only one who thinks that way.”

That gave him pause, yet only for a moment.

Then he chuckled, with an expression that was either so outrageously patronising or full of blatantly pretend joviality, that it made Ley’s searing anger flare up even more. She felt sick to her stomach, thoroughly appalled by his lack of seriousness, which was damn near worse than the notion of him already having resigned to his fate.

“Which gladdens me to hear, it does, and yet-“

“Gale, I swear I will tell them to hold you down, tie you to a tree if need be, and, and…” she snapped, furiously gesticulating with one finger, blushing a little as she continued. “… and spoon-feed you what magic I have, if that’s what it takes...”

The chuckle turned into a snorted laugh, Gale’s ever-softening eyes twinkling with equal parts fondness and amusement. “Now that almost sounds a little frightening,” he quipped, smiling at her with raised brows. “Am I being threatened here?”

“If you keep acting like the future has already been decided, yes. You most definitely are,” Ley replied without hesitation, her tone stone-cold.

“You make it sound as if I were the only one with mildly self-destructive tendencies.” Gale squinted his eyes, still smiling. “May I suggest we abstain from resorting to violence? That hardly seems like the kind of fair and equal treatment you’ve so rigorously promoted earlier tonight.”

Oh, don’t you dare, she thought. Then, after a second, huffed in annoyance, unable to come up with an adequately witty rebuttal.

“How about…” she pondered instead, quickly nipping at her wine. “How about we just skip the whole… dying and exploding part and maybe try remaining in one piece for a change?”

“Now that’s an idea I can fully get behind,” he cheered, grinning from ear to ear. “Though, may I point out that it might be a bit difficult to realise, given our less than favourable circumstances-“

“To the best of our ability….?”

Gale didn’t answer for a moment, just studied her face, humming contentedly. “To the best of our ability,” he then confirmed, raising his goblet before emptying it. “That I can work with.”

A moment of comfortable silence passed. Gale went to refill their glasses and as he did, Ley’s gaze wandered over his face, studying the creases around his eyes, marvelling at the silver streaks weaving through his beard. He seemed a little more at ease now, temporarily untroubled by any worries other than their dwindling wine supply and the prospect of embarking on what promised to be a long, tedious march come morning.

She couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like, had they met under different conditions. If there were no unwanted visitors in play, no Orb, no Thing. No tadpole. What would have happened had their paths crossed in another place, maybe in his hometown or somewhere else entirely.

If those carefully held-back hopes churning away in the back of her mind would have been more likely to become a reality.

Long, nimble fingers nudged a book into her hand, absently stroking her skin for a moment, the touch nearly making her jump. Ley stared down at the cover, all of a sudden very self-conscious and a little embarrassed about her heavily throbbing heartbeat and the heat rising in her cheeks.

Maybe dial it down on the wine front, she thought to herself. They might all have ridiculously high tolerances, but you sure as hells do not. No need to make a fool of yourself. Not more than you already have.

It was the second volume of that series, the one he’d already presented her with the day before. In his other hand, he held what seemed to be volume number seven.

“Or would you prefer one of the more magically inclined variety?”

Humming indecisively, she plucked both tomes from his hands. “Why not both?”

Gale gave her an inquiring, mildly sceptical look.

“I was hoping you’d permit me to borrow the ones I don’t get through,” she said shyly. “For whenever we catch a break tomorrow.”

“That’s certainly… ambitious,” he chuckled, reaching for yet another one behind him and handing it to her. “But who am I to judge one’s hunger for knowledge?”

With that, they fell back into that comfortable, soothing silence, only interrupted by the occasional sound of turning pages and clinking glass.

Ley devoured the first two within the hour, neither of them proving to be much of a challenge. They were no more than a collection of educational rhymes depicting a number of deities, including a few nasty-sounding ones like Bane and Beshaba, then two that went by the names of Leira and Lliira, whom she had mixed feelings on, and another that called himself Loviathar, who by her estimations, probably didn’t have a lot of followers.

And then there was one that piqued her curiosity quite a bit. Or, to be more precise, the last line of the stanza dedicated to him.

Azuth, the god of wizards all

Who spend their whole lives learning.

He grants their spells both big and small,

For Mystra always yearning.

So it wasn’t enough for that one to have her so-called Chosen under her thrall, the other gods had to be lusting after her as well.

Great, she thought. Way to balance the scales.

She huffed, forced herself to drop the thought, and continued taking notes like she always did, adding to the scraps of information she had gathered the previous day.

Her open grimoire resting on her knees, she eyed the third, unopened book, still patiently waiting on the floor next to her feet, its topic just as interesting as the others. But then her current train of thought steered her somewhere else, in another, no less tempting direction. Her gaze briefly flicked toward the ones she’d just read, then to the pile stacked against the tent wall.

“Looks like there’s a burning question forming in your mind,” Gale’s voice made her snap back into reality, his lips curling into an encouraging smile. “Go on, ask away.”

After a moment of hesitation, Ley reciprocated the smile, reluctant to reveal the half-baked idea currently taking shape in her head.

“No, not a question, really…” she mumbled, absently turning page after page until she found an empty one. “Merely contemplating. I confess I’m rather unfamiliar with the whole concept of gods and worship. The notion of folks willingly dedicating so much of their lives to some of those…” she tapped against the two books she had already gone through, “… it throws me off a bit, if I’m honest.”

He studied her face for a moment, a little bewildered and visibly uncertain how to process that information. “Do people not pray to anyone where you come from?” The idea seemed to have him both bemused and intrigued. “I had assumed a race of technocratic intellectuals would have to have at least one or two curiosity-rewarding, knowledge-thirsting deities.”

A surprised chuckle escaped Ley’s throat, fingers resting on the blank parchment.

“We might have, at some point…” she cocked her head and paused, gaze trailing off. “What am I saying, of course we did. Back in the old days, before things fell apart.”

Gale raised a brow, hands clapping the book in his lap shut. “Now if that doesn’t sound like the beginning of a good story, I don’t know what does…”

“I think you might be right.” Her head snapped in his direction, lips parting into a wide grin. “And I believe I’m about ready to share it. All that’s left is to work out how to do so without going on an endless rant and chewing everyone’s ears off.”

His eyes widened with excitement. “Come on now, don’t leave me in suspense, I refuse to believe your narrative could be anything but captivating.”

“Gale, I’m not as versed in matters of storytelling as you might think me to be-“

“Never mind that. Consider this a rehearsal then.” He leaned closer, his smile warm and reassuring. “And you’ve got the rapt attention of your audience. Ready and willing to have my ears chewed off - I mean…” he spluttered, the ears in question flushing bright red as Ley began to chuckle. “Not in the literal sense, mind you… That is to say, I’d rather have them whole and unscathed, if possible - my point being…”

“Oh, I appreciate the offer, I do…” She nodded down at the empty pages with an amused huff, biting back the laughter bubbling up in her throat. “But I’d rather leave the rehearsing and chewing of ears for another time if it’s all the same to you. Let me at least get a rough, first draft going, alright?”

Gale cleared his throat but didn’t reply, just observed her with a curious smile as the book reclaimed her attention. She allowed herself to drift away, completely absorbed by the thread of long-subdued memories now slowly unravelling on the parchment, only half aware that what fell to the pages was a jumbled mess of both her runes and his letters.

She heard him shifting in his spot, eventually resuming his reading, and chuckled at his mumbled apologies whenever his knees accidentally grazed hers.

They sat there long after the others had vanished inside their tents and their collective snoring echoed through the clearing. Until Ley couldn’t keep her eyes open and the last words her tired mind could come up with had been committed to the pages.

When she looked up, Gale sat there, book closed in his lap, arms crossed on top of it, lids half-closed. Now, in the flickering candlelight, she noticed how dark the shadows under his eyes had got and saw his chest rising and falling at a pace indicating that he wasn’t asleep but merely dozing. 

She wondered if that was part of his struggle now. Never allowed to let go completely, forced to forgo real sleep to not give the Orb any chance of assuming control.

Scrambling forward, Ley laid a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it and Gale’s eyes fluttered open, greeting her with a deeply exhausted smile.

“Heading back?”

His voice was so drowsy that she felt a bitter pang of guilt dart through her insides. Guilt for leaving him here like this, to get the good night’s sleep he most certainly wouldn’t have.

“Gale…” Ley sunk to her knees again, tenderly stroking his shoulder, all reservations about touching him in such a familiar manner swiped from her mind. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if the Orb is acting up again, I’d very much like to help-“

“An offer most heartily appreciated, more than you realise,” he murmured, blinking up at her with a warm, affectionate smile. “And yet a risk I’m not willing to take.”

“But how else…” she whispered and leaned down, unconsciously bringing her face closer to his. As if keeping her voice low would somehow make his struggle more bearable. “How else will you keep it quiet for the night? Gale, you need to sleep, same as everyone else…”

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch, saw his unsteady gaze flicker over her face, from her eyes to her lips and back again. Then he reached for her hand, cupping and briefly squeezing it before removing her fingers from his shoulder.

“Not to worry,” he muttered and put on a tired smile that wasn’t the least bit convincing. “Sleep may be a luxury temporarily denied to me, but there are plenty of other ways to still one’s mind. I will get the rest I need, Ley. You need not concern yourself with that. I am perfectly fine the way things are.”

You don’t look fine, she thought. You don’t look fine at all.

She didn’t have it in her to object, not yet, at least. Not whilst she could feel the orb churning away in there the way it was - decidedly inconvenient and likely unpleasant, though not yet aggressive enough to pose the kind of threat over which she’d be willing to follow through with her words from earlier.

Instead, she nodded, mouthed a silent ‘good night’ and gave him a warm smile, throwing a last, concerned look over her shoulder as she walked off.

Concerned at the sight of him lying on his back, eyes wide open, one hand running circles over that spot on his chest.

Chapter Text

Ignis

*

For the first time in their fourteen-day-long journey, it was neither the heat of battle nor the stupefying responsibility weighing on her shoulders that gave Nori reason to sweat.

It was the sun, scorching down on her from a crystal-clear blue sky, unhampered by clouds or the cooling shade of the forest’s canopy. She had already felt a little woozy when they passed the bridge and the inglorious reminder of their encounter with the gith.

Eventually, the trees had given way to more sparse vegetation that dotted a confused, rocky landscape, exposing them to the brutal heat as they made their way up the ever-steepening slope leading up the mountain. And now, several hours later, Nori’s dizziness had developed into a nasty, rhythmically pounding headache.

Which didn’t help with the ever-growing anxiety gnawing at her insides.

She couldn’t shake the feeling they had crossed a point of no return. As if what lay behind them had merely been the warm-up to what had every chance to turn into a waking nightmare.

Looking back on these last few days, as challenging as they might have felt at the time, their ragtag little posse had always been within reach of gates, able to provide at least a modicum of temporary safety. Of traders whose wares would keep them from starving, had they ever run out of supplies. And a glade secluded enough to allow them to end the day in relative peace.

From here on out, there was no telling of what horrors lay ahead. If they’d be lucky enough to see another friendly face on their path toward the towers. On top of that, there was that ever-present worry about the potentially devastating revelations waiting for her once she came home.

Should she ever make it that far.

Which was equally not helpful and unjust toward her wife. If there was even the slightest chance of seeing her again - possibly even unharmed, just fussing about not having heard from her so far - that would be the one thing to look forward to. The one sliver of hope still looming on the horizon.

Nori sighed and rubbed her eyes, wincing as she felt sweat drip from her forehead to the back of her hand. She swept it off with her sleeve, sighing and staggering sideways, straight into Astarion’s knees.

“Careful now, darling,” the elf snickered, politely steering her back again. “Wouldn’t want to see you stumble over that edge there, now, would we?”

He nodded over his shoulder and she followed his eyes, immediately regretting her decision as she gazed into the gaping abyss opening up to their right. The path was only a few paces wide at this point, had been for at least an hour or so. Which meant she had spent the same amount of time looking the other way.

“Please don’t remind me of circumstances I am currently doing my utmost to ignore,” she sighed, fighting against that familiar, queasy feeling churning away in her stomach.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing? And here I thought you were just tired of listening to my rambling,” the elf exhaled dramatically. “What a relief, to hear you don’t deem my life’s story quite that boring.”

Nori grinned, vigorously shaking her head.

He had been talking for the better part of whatever amount of time they had spent on this exceedingly arduous trek. Which had allowed her to focus on her breathing instead of having to talk herself. And had provided a welcome distraction from the ever-growing distance between her feet and the ground down there. Enough at least that, so far, she hadn’t lost her breakfast.

“No need to worry on that front. You have my rapt attention.” One brow quirked, Nori chuckled at his complacent smirk. “Well, you’ve had it most of the time. Could’ve done with a little less of those, uhm… risque bits.”

“Excuse you?” He scoffed, hand on his chest in a gesture of consternation. “And deny you the pleasure of basking in the light of my glorious conquests? A tale of unmatched seductive prowess, honed over almost two centuries?” A theatrical sigh, silver locks dramatically flinging from one side to the other. “I had assumed any bard worth their salt would hunger for the opportunity to present their clientele with that kind of filth.”

“I’d like to emphasise, again, my dear self-proclaimed magistrate,” Nori wiggled her finger in the direction of his nose, brows knotting. “That my time working for those establishments has long since passed. I’m a respectable, married woman, sharing my art with decent folks. In a very reputable locale.”

Astarion curled a brow, his sceptical gaze darting from left to right.

“Admittedly, we’re currently lacking said locale,” she conceded with a nod.

Both brows wandered to his hairline. He cleared his throat.

“Jury’s still out on present company’s decency.”

He gave her an impish smile. “My dear, I’m afraid that ship has sailed a while ago.”

Nori sighed impatiently. This had been the blatantly obvious underlying message he made sure to weave into most of his stories. Especially those threatening to reveal things of a more personal nature. “Come on now, there has to be more to you than insufferable levels of sass and depraved, carnal urges.”

“Perhaps there is,” he replied, presenting his teeth in a teasing grin. “Perhaps there’s not. We may never find out.”

She hummed with discontent, a little irked by his persistent habit of deflecting. Then again, it wasn’t her place to judge. And she had no intention of reopening the freshly mended wounds their fragile relationship had suffered over the last few days.

“Be that as it may,” she smiled, though not with a hint of concern. “I’d genuinely advise you to keep those in check around certain people. Not recommendable, in my expertise, exhausting the patience of magic-wielding folk. ‘Specially not ones that carry a bomb in their chest.”

With a nod, she pointed him toward the two humans walking ahead of them, which, thankfully, were well out of earshot. And judging by the way they had been glued to each other’s side - even more than usual - Nori was fairly sure something must have happened during their little session last night. Which could either be taken as a good sign, or a very, very bad one.

“Which of them?” Astarion’s sneer plucked her out of her ruminations.

Right. That hadn’t really narrowed it down.

“The one currently making big, wet puppy eyes at the other.”

They watched as the wizard’s shoulder, seemingly unintentionally, grazed that of the woman walking at his side who, in return, looked up and gave him a warm smile.

“I fear you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, my dear,” Astarion snorted out a laugh.

“Gods damn it,” she hissed, throwing her hand in the vague direction of Gale’s back. “The one that looked like he was about to stake you yesterday.”

“Oh, him…” the elf tilted his head, his expression mildly amused. “Yes, that came as a bit of a surprise. Didn’t think the whole affair would rile him up quite so easily. As if he thought I’d somehow…” He trailed off for a second, continuing the sentence in his head, visibly unsettled by the image it led to.

Nori frowned, lips parted into a weak, uneasy smile. Astarion turned back to her, brows raised, appalled by what he saw on her face.

“Did you honestly believe I’d stoop so low?!” He blurted out, voice laden with honest indignation. “Carnal cravings aside, that sort of thing will never be on the menu. Not as long as it’s my own, free will that guides my actions. I’m not a monster, you know. Not that kind, at the very least.”

She smiled, a warm gush of relief flooding her chest. There wasn’t a hint of deceit in his words. The spark of resentment in his eyes was genuine. Which made perfect sense, now that she knew a bit more about his life at the Gate. If you could even call it that.

“Funny you should say that,” she chuckled, eyes flicking to Ley, who was giggling over whatever Gale had just murmured into her ear. “That was precisely what she kept insisting on. Quite adamantly so.”

Astarion paused for a second, gaze darting to the woman in question, then back to her. “She did?”

“Is it honestly that hard to believe you’re being liked for reasons other than your…“ Nori rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Seductive prowess?”

The elf remained quiet for a second, face unreadable, eyes glued to the back of Ley’s head. “Suppose I’m just not used to… that kind of thing.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Nori wrestled down the urge to make a sappy comment, the kind she knew he wouldn’t be able to take without resorting to his usual deprecatory impertinence.

“Not the most reassuring thing to hear from someone who has acted as a government official,” she quipped instead. “Or at least claims that he has.”

Astarion hummed with amusement, trailing off for a second.

“That wasn’t just some made-up story, dear,” he then replied, cocking a brow at her. “Believe it or not, I was indeed a magistrate at some point.”

“Come on, you’re pulling my leg now, aren’t you?” Nori sneered teasingly, eyes growing wide as she saw him grin and shake his head. “You really…” she stumbled over her words in excitement and a split second later, over her feet. “What was it like? Are we talking-“

“I don’t remember.” The elf cut her off, voice quiet and strung with a hint of melancholy. “I honestly don’t. I’ve barely any recollection of what life was like before Cazador. Whoever I was back then, that man belongs to the past now. Who knows, he might have been someone completely different from the one who stands before you.” He stared at the ground for a second. Then straightened up with a huff, shaking off whatever fragmented memory had taken hold of him. “No less dashing, of course. Perhaps a little less experienced in matters of… romantic pursuit.”

Lips parting into a smug grin, he waved a hand toward Gale and Ley, now deep in conversation, close enough for their elbows to touch. “Although I’m sure even that man would have put on a better display than whatever that is supposed to be.”

“Aaah, come off it,” Nori made a throwaway gesture. “One of these days, something’s gonna happen. You’ll see.”

“Well, it better be. Otherwise, either of them has a good chance of exploding. One way or another. And I’d rather be a safe distance away when that happens.”

“You just wait. Won’t be much longer until he’s gonna find the courage to-“

“He?” Astarion snickered gleefully. “I seriously doubt it. She’s going to jump him long before that happens. No one has that kind of patience.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. The man’s a born romantic. I’m sure he wouldn’t let it happen like that.”

The elf leaned in with a suggestive grin. “How sure exactly…?”

Nori glared up at him, torn between amusement and discomfort. “Are you honestly suggesting we place bets?” She cocked a brow, gaze flicking back to flush cheeks and hands that dangled inches from each other. “On who makes the first move? Now that would be awfully rude of us, wouldn’t it?”

“It most certainly would be.” The elf chuckled and straightened up. They walked in silence for a moment. Then he bowed down again. “So, how much?”

Nori pondered her options, lips finally parting into a sly grin. “Well… how much are you willing to lose?”

*

“Wings…?”

Ley stared at the illusion hovering over his palm.

“Well, of course, Tara has wings… Perfectly reasonable appendage to have on a cat, I mean-” she cleared her throat. “Tressym. My sincerest apologies.”

“Accepted.” Gale chuckled at her befuddled expression. “Although I’d thoroughly advise against using that term in her presence. Woe betide the soul foolish enough to disparage her in such a manner. The only way to incur her wrath even faster would be an attempted belly rub.”

“Duly noted,” Ley replied, both hands raised to mollify. “Far be it from me to risk irking her ire, should we ever get introduced. Anything else I’d need to know if I wanted to leave a good impression?”

The illusion evaporated and Gale lowered his hand again, blithely humming as he smiled at her.

“I honestly doubt you’d have to do much,” he said softly, eyes glimmering with fondness. Ley felt herself crumble under his gaze. “The two of you would get along splendidly. More than that. She’d love you, I’m sure of it. For reasons other than certain shared feline qualities. Refusing to leave this poor excuse of a wizard wallowing in self-pity just one amongst many.”

Her cheeks started to feel a little warm.

“Which reminds me of a question I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now,” he continued, briefly brushing her sleeve with his fingers. “That form you so habitually shift into… Why that one in particular? ”

“Hmm…” Ley nibbled at her bottom lip, trailing off for a second as she pondered a suitable answer. “Not so much for personal preference than for pragmatic reasoning, really. Makes it quite a bit easier to get around. Besides, it proved a feasible way to keep myself from starving. Bit of a drastic measure, but in a pinch…”

A stifled laugh died halfway up his throat and she looked up, only to find a thoroughly confounded expression frozen on his face. Ley blushed even harder, embarrassed at the notion of the no doubt unbecoming image now unfolding in his mind.

“Not my first choice, naturally,” she hurried to explain, falling into a slight stutter as she continued. “But there weren’t that many options… I was working on setting up gardens and just got done building the greenhouse, but the yield was far from reliable and I was getting desperate, so I didn’t… I mean…”

“Oh, I see,” he leaned in, close enough for her to see that it wasn’t consternation glinting in his eyes, but curiosity. “So your departure predates this incident by quite a bit, correct? Forgive me, I still struggle with the proper chronology of events.”

“Well, how could you not?” She chuckled. “I’ve told you barely anything. And yes, this was quite a bit later, long after I had gone through what little supplies I brought with me. You see, I had stumbled upon this moon out there in the middle of nowhere. Just a tiny pebble, no bigger than an asteroid. Far from comfortable, but good enough to set up a workshop and put a few seeds in the ground.” She snorted out a laugh, inspecting her fingers. “Turns out that there’s a big difference between reading about how to raise crops and actually getting it done. Especially when it’s the first time you’re trying your hand at something of that nature.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” Gale nodded, brows raised. “Not to mention the pressure of relying so entirely on the outcome. I suppose that didn’t do much to improve the situation.”

“It most certainly did not,” she laughed, voice strained with a pang of bitterness. “And the waiting was even worse. I’ve spent most of that time scouring neighbouring systems for materials, always hoping to get my hands on something edible as well. That wouldn’t prove poisonous or otherwise harmful for this awfully fastidious digestive system nature has cursed us with. Which proved much more difficult than you’d think.”

“Huh…” he paused for a moment. “I don’t think that’s an issue I’ve ever considered. How decidedly inconvenient. Not to mention the potentially disastrous consequences.”

“And taxing like you wouldn’t believe,” Ley agreed with a vigorous nod. “I was on my last legs when it occurred to me that the situation would probably be much less dire had I, say… a stomach like one of the indigenous creatures. Preferably one from the top of the food chain.”

Gale looked at her and grinned approvingly. “An undeniably sound conclusion. So you set your gaze on one of those predators…. And then what?”

“Well…” she fumbled for words, not sure how to best phrase an explanation he’d deem reasonable rather than erratic. “Studied her, of course. Took notes whilst following her around, spent the evenings experimenting. You know, trial and error.”

“Am I to understand you simply mimicked her appearance? Without anyone to teach you how to do so?”

“Y… yes…?” She replied with a perplexed smile. “I should point out that it took several weeks of observing her, though. The cat, that is. Which is a little ironic, now that I think about it. Because initially, it was her who was stalking me.” Then, with a grin; ”Fortunately, I’m rather hard to catch.”

“I assume she wasn’t particularly amused,” he chuckled. “But that still does not explain how you went about the deed itself. I don’t suppose you just wished yourself to grow fur and fangs now, did you?”

Ley paused and bit her lower lip, searching his face for any sign of this being his idea of a joke. But there was none.

“I… I think I did?” She replied hesitantly, watching his expression turn into one of utter disbelief. “Little by little. One claw at a time, if you so will. Like this…” She lifted a finger. Tip and nail extended, transforming into a long, razor-sharp hook, then retracted again. “That being one of the easier parts, mind you. Figuring out how to rearrange your ribs and stretch your shinbones is much more difficult. Not to mention the eyes… Getting those right took me the better half of a month.” Several conflicting emotions collided on Gale’s face, and Ley couldn’t help but snicker. “Is that really so hard to believe? I am an engineer, after all.”

He kept staring at her for a moment, then snorted out a laugh and shook his head. “No, not at all. It sounds very much like you, approaching the issue in such a methodical, if somewhat… unusual manner. An admirable feat. Even though the notion of you filling your days with such, erm, predatory pastimes has me mildly unsettled.”

Ley gave him a sceptical smile. “Now, I’m not sure whether to take this as flattery or insult…”

Ahead of them, the others had vanished behind a massive rock formation. The path leading around it narrowed even more, but at least seemed to flatten a little. Cheerful voices echoed from the stone, followed by the sound of what may have been Karlach’s axe being chucked into a log.

“I can assure you, that compliment was a perfectly honest one.” Gale laughed heartily. “No latent ambiguity, just a genuine commendation on your resourcefulness.”

Meaning there’s probably at least twelve better ways to do it, she thought and responded with a mildly disgruntled grumble.

Following the others around the crag, the constrained space forced them to walk behind each other, limiting their ability to engage in conversation for the time being.

Gale took the lead, carefully setting one foot in front of the other, testing the ground with his staff. His other hand trailed over the cold stone to his left, visibly struggling not to pay any heed to the bottomless chasm gaping at them from the other side. Ley followed patiently, the threat of misstepping not bothering her in the least. She was free as a bird, after all, able to blink back to safety within a moment’s notice, should she be so unlucky as to slip.

The others, apart from Nori and Astarion, who still had to catch up, were waiting at the end of a short ravine, hailing them as they approached.

Upon reaching them, they found themselves faced with the breathtaking view of a dale so picturesque it looked almost surreal. It lay huddled between steep, towering peaks, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun and was strewn with lumbering, snow-white boulders that dotted the vast meadows like marbles spilt by a giant hand.

“Holy shit, what a sight!” Karlach exclaimed with unbridled enthusiasm, her voice echoing from the surrounding cliffs. “Who knew the mountains could be this fucking beautiful!”

The statement was met with collective nodding and appreciative mumbles, interrupted by frantic wheezing as Nori emerged from the rocky crevasse in their back. She seemed a little green around the gills, hands stemmed to her knees, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. A moment later, Astarion appeared behind her, acknowledging the view with a quirked brow, then turned his attention to the halfling.

“Nori, dear, perhaps this is a good spot to put up your feet for a moment. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look… awful.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” the bard scoffed, still wheezing and gritting her teeth. “…Spring chicken…” More panting, one small finger pointing at his chest. “… compared to you, old man.”

Ley giggled internally as the elf huffed and pouted his lips, tempted to watch their bickering for a while longer, when she suddenly noticed that Gale had left her side.

She turned on her heels, saw most of the others strolling about the premises, searching for a cosy spot to settle down, some already scouring their packs for refreshments. Then her eyes fell on the wizard, leaning against a smaller rock just a few steps away, eyes screwed shut, face white as a sheet.

“Something the matter?” She asked anxiously as she approached. “The Orb giving you trouble?”

“Oh no, nothing quite that dramatic,” he greeted her with a wry smile, scrambling toward a spot that was flat enough to sit down. Then he lowered himself with visible effort and Ley flinched as she heard his knees crack. “It just so happens that my legs don’t agree with the strenuous exertion they had to endure today. A bit embarrassing, really. Facing trolls and goblinkind whilst barely breaking a sweat, just to collapse after a stroll in the countryside.”

“Not sure I’d call a seven-hour-long, uphill march a stroll…” she mumbled and closed the distance, frowning as she sat down next to him. “And aching legs really shouldn’t be a reason for anyone to feel embarrassed. May I…?”

She didn’t wait, didn’t care about possibly overstepping a line. She resented the look on his face, anguished and resigned to the pain, and that was enough. Leaning forward, she gently placed both hands on his knees and closed her eyes.

“Ley, what are you…” Irritated for a moment, he darted forward, fingers brushing against hers. There they froze as she channelled heat toward her fingertips and sank it into his skin.

“Oh, my, this is wonderful…” He muttered, absently stroking the back of her hands. She chuckled mutely as she saw his chin droop to his chest, saw lids flutter and strained features soften. Drawing small circles into his pant leg, she worked warmth into every inch that seemed tense, until it had well and truly seeped through bones and muscles alike.

“Better now?” She asked quietly, withdrawing her hands as she straightened up.

With an endlessly relieved sigh, Gale blinked and forced his eyes back open. “Most definitely,” he mumbled hoarsely, then cleared his throat to regain at least a modicum of composure. “All the day’s weariness washed away in but a moment. I find myself indebted to you once more.”

“Nonsense,” Ley countered. “Can’t a girl look out for her travelling companions without adding to made-up accounts of debts owed and favours granted?”

He looked at her, humming contentedly. “You’re far too good to me, Ley.”

To think, that this man had given her the means to talk, to read and to write, effectively throwing her the only viable lifeline after her inglorious fall from the heavens, and somehow still believed himself unworthy of kindness and affection, was mind-boggling, to say the least.

“And you’re a bit silly sometimes, you know that?” was her nonchalant response, accompanied by a warm smile.

“I’ve been called worse,” the wizard quipped with a grin. Then his eyes wandered toward where the hubbub on the other side had mostly died down by now.

Ley followed his gaze, mutely chuckling at the sight of Shadowheart and Karlach, leaning against a nearby boulder, both already snoozing. A violently snoring Scratch occupied the cleric’s thighs, tongue lolling out of his mouth and drooling over the chain mail. A few feet further away, Nori and Wyll lounged in the grass, quietly chatting whilst watching some stray clouds trail over the clear blue sky. Behind them, she spotted the hulking frame of a bear, curled up in the shadow of another massive rock. The other two were nowhere to be seen, yet undoubtedly close by, as was usually the case when they took a moment to rest.

“How about…” Gale’s voice was low, as if not to disturb the two women’s slumber. “We use the opportunity to address your request from yesterday? Of dipping into the Weave once more, maybe learn a spell or two? Nothing overly complicated, just enough to give you an impression of what it could be like, to yield magic that doesn’t burn you from the inside out.”

A wide grin spread over her face.

“I know we agreed for later this evening,” he continued, glancing at her from the side. “But the way things are going, I somewhat doubt that by then, we’ll still be in a shape allowing for that lesson to bear fruit. I’d wager that, come nightfall, we’ll want nothing but to crawl into our bedrolls and be done with the day.”

“Agreed,” she replied, barely able to hold back her excitement, then pointed at their companions. “But they’ll probably want to get going in a bit, is that even remotely-”

“Oh, I doubt this will keep us for long. Now…” he rose to his feet, one hand behind his back, the other reaching for her with a courtly little flourish. “If the lady would be so kind as to follow me?”

So that’s all it takes? Ley thought, raising a brow at his archly grin. One quick swerve toward that subject and we’re back to overbearing confidence?

Not that she had any kind of problem with that. She gave a soft chuckle, took the hand presented to her and allowed him to pull her up.

“I’d suggest we retreat a little further away,” he nodded in the direction opposed to where the others lay in the grass. “No need to trouble those in need of rest with the noise of, what was it again… reckless spell-flinging.”

“Provided I can handle that part, yes…” She threw him an uneasy glimpse, frowning as they passed a row of standing stones. “Don’t set expectations I might not be able to meet, Gale.” And then, much quieter, “Please.”

As much as she enjoyed playing the good pupil to the professorial role he so obviously delighted in, the thought of disappointing now was nigh on unbearable. And not that unlikely, having passed all those previous milestones in a way that, at least to her, felt pretty close to cheating.

The look on his face was one of genuine bewilderment. “That honestly worries you?”

She gave a brief nod, trying her best to avoid his gaze by studying the curbs and dents of the rock formation to her left. Which proved to be a futile effort, as the ridiculously endearing tone in his voice immediately forced her eyes to snap back.

“Why would you ever think such complete and utter nonsense?” Gale’s expression was gentle and so thoroughly affectionate, Ley felt an entirely unauthorised surge of heat rise to her cheeks. Which caused his features to soften even more. “Is there a reason you so vehemently try to sell yourself short? Because I can assure you, there’s no need for that.”

Half of her realised they had come to a halt, this part of the meadow flat and mostly unobstructed by the stones scattering the surrounding landscape. Monoliths of various sizes stood in a semicircle around them, silently watching and shielding from the world outside.

The other half tried its best to contain the sheepish smile threatening to unfold on her lips.

And failed miserably.

“I’m just not sure I’ll be able to access it the way you are,” she mumbled, unable to tear her eyes from his. “There’s a good chance that the only thing I can draw upon is…” Two fingers tapped against her sternum. “… that one.”

Gale chuckled, vigorously shaking his head. “You already accomplished that, remember? At that little soiree with the people from the grove, when…” He cut himself off by clearing his throat, which was followed by a quiet hum, gaze briefly darting to the ground.

Where you thought about a kiss and I took that as an invitation to throw myself at you, Ley thought, shuddering at the reminder of how embarrassed she had felt in the aftermath. Yes, I happen to remember that. Pretty well, in fact.

That little peck that had him so flustered he hadn’t even been able to bid her goodnight. And she had just left him there on the riverside, frozen in place and thankfully not able to see her burning cheeks as she walked off. Thoroughly appalled by her own brazenness, which, inebriated or not, had been decidedly improper and therefore, understandably ill-received.

At least that had been her first read on his reaction. Thinking back to it now, she didn’t recall him showing any other sign of trepidation throughout the following days.

Not one.

Her eyes wandered to the side of his chin, to that spot where her lips had met his beard and effectively rendered him immobile. And then to the opposing one, woefully neglected and practically begging for compensating countermeasures.

Would he still shy away if she dared to…?

Get. A grip. On yourself. Ley cursed internally, trying to steel her mind against the overwhelming urge to lunge forward and seal that dreadfully tantalising mouth with her own.

The mouth that had continuously been forming words for quite some time now. And she hadn’t paid attention to any of them.

“… no harm in giving it another try. And should it result in nothing, then at least we know to turn our attention to what slumbers inside you instead. So, what do you say?”

“Uhm, sure…?” She nodded, probably a bit too avidly. “Sounds good?”

“Marvellous,” he stated and stepped to her side. “Now, I was thinking that for the very first one, it might be wise if we leaned into your natural proclivity for fire magic.” Ley opened her mouth, her protest prematurely cut short by Gale’s lifted finger. “Even if that roots in the connection with said entity that so far has served as the sole fount of your power.”

Her brows knotted into a doubtful frown, but she clasped her lips shut and forced herself to nod.

“What matters is that you’re accustomed to that element. Which might also give us an advantage, should that uninvited hitchhiker of yours disagree with you straying from familiar shores.”

That was, without question, a reasonable argument. Ley reciprocated his ever-widening smile, now feeling a tad more confident than before. “Ignis it is, then?”

“Precisely!” He affirmed cheerfully and turned forward so they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Now, do you recall what it felt like, reaching into the Weave? If you’re able to recreate that sensation in your mind, that would allow us to skip a step.”

Ley closed her eyes, nervously kneading her hands. “I do,” she mumbled. “I think…”

It took her but a second to slip back into that eerie moment, the memory of being shrouded in that purple glow, and then, after a second of delighting in the warmth and the faint tingle on her skin… Her presence. Calm, welcoming, and yet intimidating enough to send a shiver down her spine. She squirmed internally, writhing under the weight of Her gaze and the unsettling knowledge of being watched.

Of being judged.

“You’re doing wonderful,” Gale murmured close to her ear.

“Hm…” Her lips curled upward. “I’d like to point out that I had a wonderful teacher.”

“Oh, I know.” He replied without hesitation, voice dripping with smugness.

Ley’s brows darted to her hairline. “And so humble.”

“If the situation calls for it,” he hummed with amusement, then leaned in and touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes to a wide, approving smile. “Now for the somatic component.”

Considering how often she had watched him perform those motions, Ley had assumed that doing so herself wouldn’t pose much of a challenge.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Whether it was a case of unwarranted stage fright or the simple reason that the whole situation stood in such harsh contrast to her own way of casting, her hands somehow refused to get them right.

After the first few failed attempts, Ley gritted her teeth, a low growl rumbling in her throat. A couple of times, she could feel the spell dancing at her fingertips, but then fade away before she had the chance to get hold of it.

“No need to get impatient,” Gale chuckled, giving her a reassuring smile as he repeated the gesture for what felt like the tenth time. “This may take a little while to get used to. Practice is key, even for the most gifted of aspiring wizards.”

I don’t have that kind of time, Ley huffed, blood rushing to her cheeks. Not if I want to be of use to any of you.

It was just a basic firebolt, for heaven’s sake. One of the easiest cantrips there was. And not only for him. Most of the others had that one in their arsenal as well. Could probably cast it in their sleep.

With an exasperated sigh, she reached out again, noting she messed up halfway through the sequence. Fuming and knotting her brows, she formed the rest of the gesture whilst scolding herself internally. Just when her hands were about to drop to the sides again, the whiff of something hot brushed against her skin. Ley smirked and, without thinking, grasped for it, refusing to let whatever sliver of Weave she had managed to catch slip through her fingers again.

She tugged at it, then yanked, and the threat snapped.

The next thing she saw was a flash of light exploding before her eyes and, with a pained groan, she stumbled backward.

Hissing a row of hefty curses, inadvertently resorting to her native tongue, Ley rubbed over her face and winced as she felt a hand come to rest between her shoulder.

“Is it possible that you’re trying a little too hard?” Gale quipped, stroking her back ever so slightly.

Normally, she’d approve of most things coming out of that man’s mouth. Interminable monologues, the occasional tease, some flippant remarks that could probably be considered boastful - And all of that was fine, more than often even appreciated. But right now, comments like that were the last thing she needed. She whirled around, frantically blinking to clear her vision, ready to snap at him in a fit of blind rage…

…Only to be met with kind, warm eyes and a genuinely worried smile.

“Whatever you’re trying to prove here, Ley,” he said softly, the sincerity in his tone enough to let her anger evaporate immediately. “I sincerely doubt pushing yourself like this will lead to the desired outcome.”

Swallowing hard, she forced a wry grin to her lips. “Well, I got something, at least. For a second… One might take that as a good sign?”

“I would agree,” he nodded, fingers perpetually drawing small, soothing circles into her tunic. “That would indicate the Thing is, in fact, not opposed to what you’re doing.”

Had he ever called it that before? Ley couldn’t remember and frankly wasn’t sure if she liked it. Him mentioning that beast by name, as if the notion of it being an integral part of her was just an established, casually accepted fact. But then again, maybe that was precisely what it was. For him, at least.

“That being said, I can’t help but feel as if it’s still somehow hampering your efforts. Not intentionally, perhaps. But holding you back nonetheless.”

Ley looked up, fumbling for words as she met his inquiring gaze.

How would one even go about explaining the difference?

Reaching into the threats of that intricate web he so casually strung, all of them resonating in perfect harmony, felt like attempting to play an instrument she had never known existed. Like plucking the strings of a harp ten times her size, that would normally permit even the most unversed hands to coax a few notes from them.

All except hers, it seemed.

Perhaps it deemed her too clumsy. Considered her unworthy of its graces, after years of dabbling with the volatile, savage impostor she was forced to carry around.

Tainted by that shapeless abomination that didn’t even have a name, no voice other than the primordial rumbling that greeted her when it woke from its slumber. That stirred and seethed under her touch, like liquid magma, loathing to meld into anything but visions of rage and cleansing fire. Burning whatever needed to burn to guarantee the integrity of its host’s fragile shell.

Inherently unable to create.

The best she could do, when it was well and truly asleep, was to reach inside with both hands and… take from it. As much as she could. For whenever she felt the need to warm or to soothe. Or, well, to feed.

And now, faced with the unfathomable possibility that one day she might draw from an entirely different source, one that wouldn’t habitually scorch her guts, her resolve was caving under the weight of her own expectations.

How utterly embarrassing, she thought, disgusted by the notion. Laughable, really.

Ley shuddered and ripped herself away from her thoughts, blushing as she noticed that Gale still had his hand on her back. Studying her face and patiently awaiting her reply.

“Apologies,” she mumbled, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “I didn’t think the difference would be quite that overwhelming. It’s not the Thing that’s blocking me. Only my head, it seems.”

“Hm… I figured as much,” he smiled, squinting his eyes and, much to her disappointment, withdrew his fingers. “Is there any way I can help?”

First off, you could put your hand right back to where it was, she thought.

And then her ears flushed bright red as he grinned and promptly complied with the request she had apparently uttered out loud.

“I mean… that is…” she stammered, blushing even harder as she realised that this was nothing she could talk herself out of. “Sort of… grounding, if that makes any sense? To know someone’s there and it’s not just me and that-”

“And secondly?” Gale leaned closer, cutting her off before she had the chance to make the situation even worse. On her back, his hand resumed its regrettably comforting ministrations. “I’d like to point out that, should you require me to repeat the somatic component again, that might now prove a tad problematic.”

Ley sighed in defeat and ran all ten fingers through her hair, shoulders sagging, chest heaving as she drew a deep breath. “No need…” she muttered, reaching for her braid and tugging it forward so it dangled over her shoulder. She already managed to put her foot in her mouth - might as well commit to it.

“Secondly, erm…” Scrambling her head for what to say next, Ley tried very hard not to lean into the touch like a cat getting its chin scratched.

“Talk to me.” She blurted out, face brightening up as she followed the thought. “Distract me a little. Maybe tell me more about Tara. Or better yet, tell me how all this felt like for you, when you first got started. And please don’t make it sound like you were able to cast right from the crib.”

“Ha!” Gale laughed, a warm and rumbling sound that reverberated through his arm and then her spine, immediately causing a bit of her tension to dissipate. “I’ve always shown a certain aptitude for magic, and from quite an early age as well, but I’m not so sure what I did to that old thing would meet the requirements to qualify as proper casting.” He chuckled and smiled down at her, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. “I believe there must have been at least a dozen occasions on which I set it on fire. Maybe more. The kitchen too. Oh, the stories my mother could tell…”

Ley burst out in violent giggles as the image of a toddler-sized Gale popped into her mind, shaking in his little crib, setting the whole thing ablaze in the wake of a fully fledged tantrum.

Gale grinned from ear to ear and gave her an encouraging wink.

“And did I mention how the summoning of Tara came about in the first place? Such a fortunate twist of fate, come to think of it. My call being answered by a familiar sharp enough to come up with the treatment for my malady so many years later. Now, you see, the whole affair was a direct result of my parents’ adamant denial to grant my wish for a kitten…”

He went on babbling, dutifully running his fingers over that spot on her back. Ley smiled, zoning out a little as she tried to re-conjure the smell of rosewater and that feeling of being wrapped in cosy, purple light.

“Ignis,” she whispered, the word half-thought and half-spoken, and was fairly sure that this time around, she got the motions right.

And indeed, for a brief moment, a bright flicker flared up between her palms.

Only to burst into a cascade of tiny, clinking icicles.

“How did that even…” Ley gasped, staring at her hands, her expression somewhere between baffled and bitterly disappointed.

Gale leaned in, voice trembling with silent laughter. “We’ll get there, eventually. Don’t you worry.”

“No… I don’t think we will,” she muttered, brows contorted into a hopeless frown. “I mean, how can someone get a spell so wrong? I… I don’t understand…”

“A minor slip in the last sequence. Nothing dramatic, just a bit too much gusto in that-“

“Gale, I don’t think this is going to lead anywhere,” she mumbled through gritted teeth, disparagingly eying her fingers. “I was so hoping I could make myself a little more useful, you know? For all that nonsense we’re heading for.”

He didn’t reply for a long moment, just studied her face, continuously stroking her back.

“Allow me to make a suggestion,” he then said, voice unendingly soft. “What if…”

Before she had any chance to react, he had taken a step to the side and moved behind her. Close enough that Ley smelled sandalwood and parchment. Abandoning that spot between her shoulders, he reached around, carefully cupping her hands from behind.

“What if I were to take care of the somatic component, whilst you attempt to hold all those wholly unwarranted doubts at bay? Quiet every thought distracting from the task at hand?”

And who’s distracting me from you? She thought, nervously pondering if there was a chance he could hear the hectic thrumming of her heartbeat.

Long, nimble fingers grazed against hers, steering them back to their initial position.

Ley forgot to breathe.

Gale did not. A warm gust of air brushed against the side of her neck, equally warm skin sliding against hers as he intertwined their fingers and gently tightened his grasp. The touch was incredibly careful, hesitant even, leaving her every chance to withdraw.

As if that option had even been on the table.

“Would that help?” He asked, voice soothing, if a little raspy, and entirely too close to her ear.

Help? Ley thought, knees growing weaker by the moment. Help with what again?

“I suppose… that’s an idea worth putting to the test…?” She mumbled absently, then cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the quiver in her voice.

Then again, she wasn’t sure if she really cared that much. All she could think about was the urge to let go, to feel her shoulders bump against his chest. To tug his arms around her waist and huddle into his embrace. To see if his lips would descend on her-

“Well, then…” Gale teased, voice strung with a hint of smugness. “Whenever you’re ready.”

How was it possible that a few soft-spoken words and the faintest touch of his hands could so effectively turn her brain into mush?

Struggling to scramble together what little remained of her composure, Ley took a deep breath and fumbled through the tangled mess that were her thoughts, frantically trying to recall what it was he had asked her to do.

Fire. He wanted fire. Fire I can do.

She pressed her eyes shut. Thought of rosewater. And purple. Reached out into that web, frowned as its threads again stubbornly evaded her grasp. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

Or maybe I don ’t.

Not as long as her fingers remained nestled in those gentle, ridiculously dexterous hands. Was it normal for her throat to feel that dry? And her ears to be that warm?

Everything felt a little warm, now that she thought about it.

Reluctantly, Ley turned her attention inwards and swallowed back a gasp as she saw that, without her noticing, the Thing had raised its head. Startled by her rising panic, yet unbothered by what she was doing. It simply sat there, glaring at the purple-robed arms reaching around her middle with open distrust.

“Alright,” she said, pulling a weak smile to her face in the attempt to soothe herself and the beast with it. “Feel free to…”

Gale didn’t need more than that. He gave a satisfied hum, then leaned forward, bringing his face right next to hers.

Which didn’t improve her situation at all.

Frozen in place, Ley watched him steer her fingers in the respective motions. Exceedingly patient, as if to encourage her to memorise every wave and every twist.

She couldn’t think. Could tear her eyes from those hands. She most certainly couldn’t reach into the Weave.

Fire, she thought, the plea wordless and vague, but understood regardless. Please, fire.

The sequence almost complete, she mouthed a silent “Ignis,” and watched as Gale turned her palms outward, held her breath as a bolt of bright white light hurled through the air. Winced as she felt the Thing snap forward with it.

And then shuddered in horror as ice-cold tendrils lapped against the back of her mind.

“Now that may grant you some points for ingenuity,” Gale laughed, cheerful and unaware of the creature currently baring its teeth at the one stirring in his chest. “But I’m not so sure I can let that pass.”

Ley heard herself chuckle, a high-pitched, chipper sound that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the situation. “My bad,” she quipped, squirming internally. “Thought I might at least give it a try.”

The coldness at her back crept closer, slid under her skin, and urged between her ribs. The Thing hissed at the intruder, its rage flooding every inch of her body with heat.

Once again, her hands were moved, back into the position they had started in. Gale smiled at her, then looked down at their entwined fingers. “No finagling your way out of this one, I’m afraid.”

A split second later, as if in direct response to his words, the Orb sunk its claws into her.

When Gale continued, he slurred the words a little, as if he was drifting off somehow. “We could head back. Should you wish to...” Both thumbs stroked down the length of her own. “I imagine this must all feel a bit frustrating by-”

“No,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

Warm breath ghosted over the side of her face. There was a sound of cloth brushing against leather. The padding of a robe nudged against her shoulders. “No…?” Gale’s voice was husky, and a bit absent, his gaze still locked on both their hands, which now, at a painstakingly low pace, sunk down and wandered toward her waist.

“No,” Ley repeated, even quieter than before.

An image darted through her mind, reminding of a somewhat similar situation that had occurred very recently, even though, in that one, the predator closing in on her had come from a slightly different angle. This time though, the threat felt much more palpable, even if it came draped in heartfelt affection and the most tentative of touches.

And this time, she had no intention to resist.

There was a faint bristling sound as Gale’s beard brushed against her ear. A low, endlessly relieved hum emerged from deep within his throat as his nose trailed down the side of her face. Hands now fully clasped around hers, he ever so carefully crossed their arms and wrapped them around her middle, gradually tugging her closer.

She felt at peace. Consoled and wanted. Letting go was easy, melting into the warmth of his embrace the only reasonable thing to do.

A small part of her, mute and defiantly disregarded, was aware that this didn’t feel right. That something was off about the way he moved. Like a sleepwalker trapped in a dream. That part of her also felt the stinging pain as dark, ghostly tendrils invaded her chest from behind, ripping and gnawing as they closed in on the heat at the core. Could hear the Orb’s rapturous murmurs as it gazed upon the feast laid out before its eyes.

Bait, that voice tried to tell her, its screams vehemently ignored. It’s using you as bait. For him to keep you sedated.

For a brief moment, the warning got through to her. But it didn’t dissuade, just sent her shivering at the notion of that usually so vigilant mind enthralled by the abomination it had successfully subdued for so long. And even worse, the possibility of Gale being lulled into this delirious state against his will.

Would that even be possible, if there wasn’t at least a fraction of him that longed for this the same way she did?

She sunk deeper, her neck grazing the collar of his robe, his sternum urging against her shoulders. Caressing her hands with gentle fingers, Gale tightened the grip around her middle, his arms now perfectly framing hers. His lids fluttered against the side of her face as he closed his eyes, like wings of a butterfly. Ley smiled as she felt his racing heartbeat thrum against her back. Held her breath at the sound of his lips parting and the tingling sensation as they closed in on the corner of her mouth.

The Thing hissed with impatience, every fibre of its being tense, the strings tethering it to her physical form on the brink of snapping. Straining even more as it readied itself to pounce, to annihilate both the threat at the gates and the man attached-

Don’t you dare lay a finger on this one, Ley snapped, briefly taken aback by the sheer intensity of the thought. You’ve taken enough already. If this one burns, I’ll scour the void for the blackest, deepest Abyss there is and toss you inside. Me along with you, if need be.

Half-expecting it to lunge out despite her warning, she felt it pacing up and down at the back of her mind. Eventually, to her endless surprise, it came to a halt, watching the situation unfold with anxious obedience. Glowering at the other monstrosity, rending its ethereal flesh, devouring chunks of it and swallowing them into the maelstrom of impenetrable darkness gaping within its maw.

Ley could feel it writhe as big shreds got torn from its essence, but her wrath did not allow for pity. She felt her consciousness wane, and her vision blur, but none of that was important.

What mattered was that this man’s arms remained wrapped around her and she felt his breath on her skin. If this was to end in disaster, if the world wouldn’t allow for her to have this one good thing without threatening to go up in flames…

Then maybe I should just let it happen.

A pained shriek rang through her skull as the Thing sprung into action.

And the world took a step to the side.

Ley’s eyes snapped open. She felt wind against her face, saw blue sky and bone-white rock closing in on her, and instinctively flung both arms forward, catching herself just in time before she could crash against the boulder ahead.

She stood there, panting and with trembling knees, waiting for her pulse to stop thundering and her head to stop spinning.

A moment of silence passed.

Then, somewhere behind her, increasingly heavy breathing turned into a frantic groan.

“No, no, please, no…”

She turned on her heels, unsteady gaze falling on Gale, standing in the grass just a few feet away. Staring at his now-empty hands, then at her and back again with wide, panic-filled eyes.

“Oh heavens, what did I…” he stammered and took a step toward her, then froze again. “Ley, I’m not sure what came over me, please…” Another tentative step, hands reaching out, only to retract a second later. “What am I saying? Of course I do…” Brows knotting into a remorseful frown, he paused for a moment, eyes briefly trailing off, as if listening to something inside.

The Thing seemed to calm down, appeased by whatever Gale was currently doing with the Orb, presumably willing it back to sleep. Which might be comparatively easy, now that its hunger had been sated to some degree.

“How much did it… how badly did I hurt…”

“It’s all right, Gale,” Ley tried to soothe, blinking through the haze still clouding her vision. “No one got hurt, I’m perfectly fine-“

“You’re most definitely not!” He blurted out, one hand absently kneading that spot on his chest, fingers digging into the fabric almost violently. “Far from it. And no, it’s not alright. Nothing about this situation is alright. To think what could have happened, had you not wrested yourself free…” The next words choked and died somewhere halfway up his throat. He stared at her, mortified, swallowing hard.

Ley closed the distance with a few quick paces, unable to bear the despair in his eyes and the self-loathing in his voice. Came to a halt just an arm’s length from him, giving the warmest smile she could muster.

Which did nothing to stifle the barrage of apologies spilling from his lips. “… what I could have done to you,” Gale rasped, gaze dropping to the ground before it flicked up to her again. “I’m not sure where to begin expressing my contempt for this atrocious lack of restraint. And I know a misdeed of that magnitude doesn’t deserve forgiveness, so I won’t even ask-“

“There’s nothing to forgive. This wasn’t your fault.“

“How could you possibly say something like that?” The look he gave her was one of honest bewilderment. “How could you even think that, moments after bearing witness to what a menace I am? Of course, this was my fault, and an entirely inexcusable one at that. Assaulting you like some rabid animal, holding you down so that beast could just… have at you.” The last words he spit out like something poisonous. With a huff, eyes screwed shut, Gale ran a hand through his hair.

The other fell from his chest. On a whim, Ley snatched it mid-air, before it could drop to his side and tucked it away between both of hers, ever so carefully stroking his fingers with her thumb.

He didn’t seem to notice. When his eyes opened, dark and brimming with remorse, they immediately locked onto hers again. “I won’t attempt to justify my actions. There’s nothing I can do to redeem myself for something so vile.” His voice was down to a mumble, hoarse and pleading. “But you have my word that I will do whatever it takes to prevent disasters like this one from happening again. Please tell me you understand. That I’d do anything in my power to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Ley spotted a wet glint sparkling in his eye, the sight hurting her deep to the core. So when his fingers abandoned his hair, she plucked them out of the air as well.

“You must know how much I…” Gale trailed off when his gaze finally fell on his captured hands, features softening immediately as she squeezed and wrapped her fingers around them. When he continued, the faintest hint of a smile flickered over his features. “…care about you.”

The butterflies in her stomach did a little somersault.

For a moment, she just held him there, looked up, and watched as the steep line between his brows smoothed out and the strain in his jaw dissipated. The distress in his eyes gave way to something much more tranquil, if still a little sceptical, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“I know, Gale,” she then replied, warmth spreading through her chest as she felt his fingers tentatively reciprocate the squeeze. “I know you’d never willingly set it loose like that. This wasn’t your fault. No, no-” She stifled his attempt to object by vigorously shaking her head. “Let me speak.”

Gale reluctantly closed his mouth, features threatening to harden again, so she quickly intertwined their fingers and leaned closer.

“I’m well aware of what happened there. Saw it coming before you even noticed. I am just as much to blame. For exposing myself so foolishly whilst in range of…” A nod toward his chest. “… and then not being quick enough with the response.”

The response I may have not even considered in the first place, she thought, swallowing hard as guilt, bitter and cold, surged through her guts.

“I sincerely doubt there was much you could’ve done,” Gale muttered. “Aware or not.” And then, through gritted teeth, “I’ve made sure of that.”

Ley looked at him for a long moment. “May I ask a favour?”

“Naturally, anything you-“

“May I ask that you seize this needless self-flagellation and listen to what I’m saying?” She chuckled at his widening eyes and befuddled nod. “This boils down to me panicking and dropping my defences. Dangling in front of the Orb’s nose like the proverbial carrot on a stick. Which will not happen again.” She straightened up, giving an encouraging smile. “We won’t let it. Is that a conclusion you’ll be able to live with?”

Gale stared at her, then hummed and squinted his eyes, seemingly indecisive. “I feel like there’s quite a bit more to unpack here, but for the moment, I suppose this will have to do.”

His gaze flicked downward and then up again. Took both her hands between his. The touch was gentle but decisive, all of his previous timidity gone. As if holding them was the most natural thing in the world.

“On the risk of repeating myself like a demented halfwit, which, perhaps I am…” He cleared his throat, lips parting into a warm, thoroughly affectionate smile. “I’d like to make sure you know how much I appreciate your kindness. Everything you do for me, really. And I meant what I said...” He leaned closer, voice softer than she’d ever heard it before. “… that I care about you. Greatly.”

There it was again. That warmth spreading through her belly. And her cheeks. Ley didn’t know what to say, all coherent thought swept clean from her mind. So she just hummed contentedly and looked at their hands. Then chuckled. She hadn’t noticed how small hers were in comparison. If he hadn’t been busy caressing them with his thumbs, he could have easily made them vanish between his own.

An idea came to mind.

“May I perhaps make another request?” She asked, briefly eying that spot on his chin again as she looked up, then quickly dispelled the notion.

“Of course. Tell me what you need.”

“Would you be so kind as to demonstrate that somatic component again? Just one more time?”

“Are you…” Gale’s brows jerked upward. It took him visible effort not to complete the sentence.

“Indulge me, would you?.”

He snorted out a laugh, then untangled their fingers. Gave her one more doubtful look. Then turned to the side and complied with the request, Ley’s eyes following every move with rapt attention.

“Now, whilst I believe your… unwavering tenacity to be highly commendable,” he said with a sceptical smirk. “I’m not so sure the outcome of this exercise will differ that much from previous results.”

Ley shrugged, smiling cheerfully. “I may have been overthinking things a little. Let’s see what this leads to.”

Somewhere behind them, voices echoed from the cliffs. Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw a small figure strolling through the standing stones, hailing them from a distance. Gale followed her gaze, waving back at the approaching halfling.

Facing back the other way, Ley closed her eyes.

Cleared her mind of all things not related to magic or fire.

Blindly grasped for the most grounding, familiar thought there was and pulled it to the surface.

For a brief moment, there was the faint smell of rosewater, but it was quickly drowned out by another scent. One much more comforting. And trusted.

It wasn’t Mystra’s incorporeal voice that met her ear, but a deeper, kinder one, whispering words of encouragement.

The purple she saw didn’t engulf her as a shapeless cloud, but wrapped around her in the form of robed arms. Arms that ended in hands, deftly guiding her own through the motions she now remembered clear as day.

Without thinking, she repeated them, effortless and smooth.

She didn’t pay attention to the bard’s voice as it came closer, couldn’t make out the words Gale said in response. All she heard was the soft chime of ghostly threads, twirling around her fingertips. Patiently listening. And waiting.

“Ignis,” she whispered, not sure if she had done so audibly or just in her mind.

The Weave didn’t care. Threads quivered in anticipation, then twisted and curled into a wavering sphere of heat. Warm tendrils tingled against her palms, the sensation familiar and endlessly soothing.

She opened her eyes, grinning from ear to ear as she glanced down at the roiling ball of fire hovering between her crooked fingers, softly bobbing up and down as she took a step forward.

“Hey, when did that happen?” Nori exclaimed and Gale’s head flung around in response.

Giddy laughter on her lips, Ley threw her hands forward and watched the fiery sphere hurl through the air, crushing into the boulder ahead with a deeply satisfying crack. Still smiling, she stood there for a moment, marvelling at the scorch marks her work had left on the surface.

Winced as a hand came to rest on her back.

“How…” Gale squinted his eyes at the rock, then at her. “Did you do something different?”

She hummed, brimming with pride and full of newly found confidence. “Turns out I was tuned to the wrong focus. You know, that bit about channelling harmony. Believe I got it now.”

“Wonderful!” Nori chimed in from the side, ignored the wizard’s baffled expression and grinned up at Ley instead. “One more way for you to incinerate stuff. Just what we needed.” She raised a brow at Gale. “This what you’ve been doing the whole time?”

He scratched his beard, eyes briefly flicking to the ground, opening his mouth for an answer.

Ley beat him to it. “Guess I’m not as quick of a learner as I thought…” she shrugged and cocked her head. “So yeah, yet another lesson. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Mhm…” Nori’s gaze wandered from one to the other, lips twitching. Then she sighed and pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “As much as I hate to interrupt your, erm… lessons, we oughta get going. Running out of daylight as it is and Halsin said something about a farmstead about three hours aways. So…”

One hand behind his back, Gale gestured for her to take the lead. Smiled as she passed him and then stepped to Ley’s side, briefly squeezing her hand as they followed the bard back to the others.

Quickly let go of it as his eyes fell on Astarion, leaning against a rock ahead of them. Using his dagger to clean his nails. Looking up with an all too knowing grin.

Ley followed his gaze and scoffed. Then nudged her shoulder against his.

“So… What’s next?”

Chapter Text

Hearthlight

*

“How’s the Orb treating you these days?”

Gale winced and tore his gaze from the faint trail of smoke rising over the hillock ahead.

Wyll grinned at him from the side, hand casually resting on the haft of his rapier. “Forgive me, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No need for apologies.” Gale gave a wry smile, eyes briefly darting back toward the estate now slowly coming into view. A vineyard, by the looks of things, nestled between endless rows of neatly lined-up grapevines. In the centre, a manor. A bit rustic, yet still quite imposing, even though most of it was burnt to the ground, the ruins still smouldering. “I was just pondering what kind of evil might have caused this. And how likely the possibility of it still lurking in the shadows somewhere.”

“I suppose we’ll find out in but a moment,” Wyll shrugged, not the least bit troubled. “Nothing we wouldn’t be able to deal with, I’m sure.”

“Your optimism in all honours,” Gale chuckled, raising a brow at the young warlock. “But don’t you think devastation on such a scale might warrant at least some degree of caution?”

“Were there any imminent dangers about, I’m confident they would’ve picked up on them by now.” Wyll nodded toward the half-opened gate further down the road. A massive bear emerged from the scorched gateway, lifting its snout in their direction. “Besides, I’m not sure there’s much that could surprise us at this point. We’re getting rather familiar with these kinds of situations.”

The bear yawned and trudged a few steps further, then hunkered down in the middle of the road.

“True,” Gale conceded, relieved at the sight of the seemingly unperturbed druid. “It appears we’re fated to tumble from one disaster straight into the next.”

He squinted his eyes, trying to peer through the thick smoke.

No sign of her.

“So…” Wyll leaned in, voice strung with a hint of concern. “How are things with the Orb? Not giving you too much trouble, I hope?”

None at all, Gale thought, gritting his teeth. On that front, things couldn’t possibly look any better.

It must have been months since it had last been this docile. So thoroughly content.

So well and truly sated. He felt bile rise in his throat. Stuffed with magic it had no right to claim.

“No more than usual,” he lied, scolding himself internally for being the fraud that he was. “Unpleasant and decidedly inconvenient, but manageable.”

“Very glad to hear that,” Wyll gave him a wide smile. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that Karlach and I have put a few odds and ends to the side, just in case you still need to… you know… pay tribute.”

“That is…” Gale turned toward him, pleasantly surprised. “A very kind gesture. One that is heartily appreciated, believe me. Although I’m afraid we’re well past the point where that would amount to anything. Peace is no longer negotiable, it seems.”

That brittle truce had been broken several days ago when the Orb decided it would no longer be appeased by his offerings. Since then, their conflict, so far just resulting in the occasional invasion attempt, had turned into a full-blown siege.

And the first covert assault has been an all-around success.

Gale felt the warlock’s one-eyed gaze burning on his skin and tried to evade it by continuing to scour the area for any hints towards Ley’s whereabouts. This was the longest they had been separated since they left their old campsite, he noted, and felt a warm wave of affection roll over him.

“It’s quite admirable, you know?” Wyll said quietly, and Gale’s head snapped around, brows contorting to a doubtful frown. Which dissipated as he saw that it wasn’t pity that sparkled in the young man’s eyes, but genuine respect. “Your mettle when it comes to handling that thing. Refusing to give in to despair. Can’t be easy, given the hand you’ve been dealt.”

The hand I’ve dealt myself, Gale thought bitterly, and forced a smile to his face. “High praise, coming from someone who stared down a devil less than a tenday ago.” He nodded toward the horns protruding from the warlock’s forehead and gave an encouraging grin. “I have to admit, the results do look rather fetching on you, as Karlach has so correctly pointed out the other night.”

“Oh, that…” Wyll’s hand flung upward, fingers absently trailing over the callous bumps at the base. “Yes, well, that’s what she keeps insisting on…” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, and Gale could swear he saw his cheeks turn a hue darker. “Not so sure I agree, but then again, what do I know…” Clearing his throat, he straightened up again. “Thank you, Gale. It’s nice to hear being touched by the hells hasn’t made my appearance quite as appalling as I feared.” He reciprocated Gale’s smile and gave a lighthearted hum.

As they approached the gate, the bear sitting in front of it shook its furry head and rose to his feet.

“Halsin!” Wyll hailed him in his usual good-spirited manner. “How fares the search? Anything still standing in there?”

Paws lifted from the ground, bones cracked, and seconds later, the druid towered over them in his elven form. He sighed, rotating his shoulder in small circles before smiling at them exhaustedly. “A small part of the manor remains fairly unscathed,” he reported in his deep, rumbling voice. “The rest is bound to collapse. I’d suggest we avoid the smoke as best as possible and make camp on the far side.”

The elf’s eyes flicked up to the roof. Gale followed his gaze and there, through the thick veil of ash and dust, he spotted movement on the shingles. Saw the shape of something big carefully balance along the ridge, then cross over to a nearby shack.

Behind them, several pairs of boots grated over the path.

“So much for the friendly welcome,” Shadowheart sighed. “Things can never be easy, can they?”

“Any clue who might have done this?” Nori inquired and stepped to Gale’s side, uneasily studying one of the hunched-over bodies leaning against the fence.

“Hard to say,” Halsin stated hesitantly. “It seems as if they weren’t so much set on pillaging, but on preventing others from doing so. Hence the scale of the destruction.”

With a soft thud, Ley landed next to him, whirling up a small cloud of dust in the process. The druid didn’t so much as flinch, just smiled down at her as she changed from four to two feet. It was a bizarre picture, Gale noted. Seeing her small, slender frame next to the hulking elf, barely reaching up to shoulders three times broader than hers.

“No bodies inside, it seems…” was her quiet report whilst patting dirt off her pant leg. “But I saw some in the backyard. As well as a handful of freshly dug graves, which leads me to believe they got hit twice in quick succession. Those who survived the first assault were presumably in the middle of burying their dead when disaster struck again.”

“Poor blighters,” Karlach muttered, shouldering her axe and craning her neck to glimpse over the makeshift fence. “Wonder what got to them…”

“Guess that would have to either be the gith or the cult, then.” Nori pondered, nodding toward the closest of the lifeless bodies.

“This one took four stabs to bring down,” Lae’zel scoffed, disparagingly squinting at the deep gashes on its chest. “Most certainly not the work of my kin.”

“Bit of an unsettling notion,” Gale mumbled. “To think that all this time, they’ve been travelling ahead of us. Imagine what would have happened, had we departed but one day earlier… Although I suppose it would also indicate that we’re indeed on the right track.”

“If we were headed straight for the towers, sure.” The halfling looked from him to Lae’zel. “Not necessarily when considering our current objective.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Halsin chimed in, patiently smiling from one to the other, “the day has been long and I see no harm in us taking shelter here for the night. Surely the crêche will still be where it is come morning.”

“He’s right,” Shadowheart added from the side, giving a deeply exhausted sigh. “I could really use a good night’s sleep.”

Ley pointed over her shoulder. “The west wing, which, by the way, includes the kitchen, seems mostly unscathed. And I’ve spotted a number of beds in what I suppose must’ve been some kind of guestroom.”

Several faces brightened up immediately.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Nori clasped her hands together and turned on her heels, gesturing for them to follow with a wide grin. “I’d say we owe ourselves a bit of respite before things turn ugly again. And a good meal, perhaps. Probably wiser not to face Lae’zel’s people on an empty stomach.”

With that, she swiftly stepped through the gate, Karlach and Wyll right on her heels, followed by a rather impatient-looking Shadowheart and the ever-stoic githyanki.

Gale watched as the druid placed a hand on Ley’s shoulder, then bowed down to mutter something inaudible in her ear. Heard her giggle, then saw her squeeze his massive hand in response, and for a fleeting second, envy had his heart in a chokehold.

It didn’t seem to matter that the two of them had barely spoken since that one night of merriment when Halsin first joined up with them. She also didn’t seem to care that this bear of a man could probably break her spine with a pat on the back if he wasn’t careful. Whether it was due to the sheer sereneness the elf seemed to exude at any given time, or perhaps because he had relieved Ley from the grievous injuries she had suffered in the wake of her crash - those few days had apparently been enough for them to form a bond founding on mutual respect and genuine, deep-rooted trust.

Come to think of it, it was only sensible that she’d feel drawn to one who was so unequivocally dedicated to healing. Who’d rather mend wounds instead of inflicting them.

And whose touch didn’t threaten to suck the life out of her.

“Did you intend to get a move on at some point, dear?” Astarion sneered gleefully, passing him with a grin that reached from one ear to the other. “Or would you rather just stand there and gawk?” 

Gale scoffed, a witty retort halfway formed in his mind when his knees were tackled by an excitedly yelping Scratch, almost running him over as he flitted by. And, of course, the dog was headed straight for the druid.

As if the man needed any more attention.

With a quiet sigh, Gale forced himself to follow the still-snickering vampire without scowling at Halsin as he walked by him.

Passing the gate, he tried to sort his thoughts, chiding himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. For resenting a man who had proven to be a valuable ally and all-around pleasant addition to the group for the sole reason that he was getting a little too close for comfort with a woman whom he, Gale, spent the majority of his time with nowadays. Not only did this nonsensical behaviour do a disservice to the druid, but it was also decidedly unbecoming for a man his age. A renowned archmage, no less, not to mention former lover to the goddess of magic herself. Besides, it was wildly out of character for him to get this agitated, this…

Jealous, a voice whispered from the back of his mind. Smitten and green with envy, like a first-semester watching his flame run off with another.

Gale scoffed. Nonsense, he thought. Sure, at this point, there was no denying his affection had grown into something beyond amicable sympathy, but thinking of such a minor emotional outburst as jealousy seemed a little far-fetched. It wasn’t like he…

Like you seize every single chance to get hold of her hand? The unsolicited voice objected mockingly. Not to mention your attempt to drag her into your arms, kiss her even, for heaven’s sake, voluntarily or otherwise? How stubborn do you have to be, disregarding a fact so obvious even the Orb is aware of and actively using to its advantage? You’re falling for this one. You’re falling hard and you’re falling fast. And at this point, it may already be too late to do anything about it. Your beaten, battered heart will end up being torn from your chest and you’ll be forced to watch, once again, as it gets stomped on and tossed aside like a-

“There you are!” Ley’s voice came out of nowhere and Gale winced. Then smiled widely as he felt a small, nimble hand stealing into the crook of his arm. “Don’t tell me you were planning to raid the kitchen without me…?”

“At the risk of being thrown out again?” He chuckled and looked down into eyes that were sparkling with mischief and dimples that were nothing if not utterly enchanting. “As if I’d ever dare attempt something so foolish. Not without the aid of a trusted accomplice willing to watch my back, that is.”

Ley leaned in with a sly grin, voice down to a whisper. “Ready when you are. I’d just like to switch into something a bit more comfortable before we get started.”

Gale hummed approvingly and forced himself to rip his gaze from her smile to look at the path ahead.

It had led them around the building and through a row of neatly fenced-in garden patches, all tidy and well-kept, barely tainted by the carnage that ravaged the rest of the estate. This part of the house seemed equally unblemished, even though both the yard and the meticulously trimmed lawn were scattered with chunks of still-smouldering debris.

Karlach and Wyll were shuffling about on the far side, armed with shovels and apparently intent on finishing the job the manor’s unfortunate residents didn’t have the chance to complete. Most of the others had vanished behind a massive ornate door on the side of the building, and judging by the jubilant cheers coming from the first floor, successfully conquered the guest rooms Ley had spotted earlier on.

“Right over there,” she murmured, pointing at a rather inconspicuous door a few paces further ahead. That part of the wing lay closest to the main building and therefore hadn’t survived the disaster quite as unscathed. Whole sections of the roof had collapsed, burying the supporting walls under their weight, and most of the windows were shattered, only half of their shutters still creaking away in their angles.

“Looks worse from outside,” Ley added, as she saw his slightly doubtful frown. “What’s important is that the pantry hasn’t been damaged. Nor plundered, for that matter. And what parts of the kitchen are still accessible seem pretty well-stocked, too. We’ll have to improvise a little when it comes to the actual cooking, because I think the stove hasn’t survived the attack. Shouldn’t pose too much of a problem, I hope…”

“Compared to that raggedy old tent we’ve had to resort to until yesterday,” Gale laughed as he reached for the door. “I’d consider this downright luxurious. And I’m sure we’ll find everything we - Oh…”

He stood in the doorway, stunned by the picture that presented itself.

Yes, half the room was buried under a thick layer of rubble, and yes, the furniture looked a little rustic in parts. But hells, there was so much space…

This wasn’t the sort of kitchen one would find in an ordinary homestead or the city houses he knew from Waterdeep. It looked more like a canteen, fit to accommodate several dozen guests or, perhaps a bit more likely, farmhands and general staff. It was split right down the middle, one gargantuan, freestanding counter separating the actual kitchen from the dining area. The latter featured several long tables and benches, all of them pieced together from thick, gnarly wooden planks. In the very centre, a round fire pit, enclosed by a thick layer of stones, lay embedded in the floor.

“Oh, by Arkay’s magnificent beard, I…” Gale sighed, eyes flitting around the room, trying to take all of it in at once.

“Suppose this will do, then?” Ley chuckled and ducked under his extended arm, the appendant hand still clasped around the doorframe.

He cleared his throat, then grinned. “… think this may just be sufficient, yes.”

Ley raised a brow, lips twitching, then mouthed a silent ‘come’ and gestured for him to follow. Gale closed the door behind him, slowly and with exceeding care to avoid any sound loud enough to raise attention. Turning around, he saw her reaching for what he could only assume to be the pantry door, which she opened with the same care he had applied but a moment ago. She squinted up at him, that cheeky twinkle in her eyes now more intense than ever.

Two unsupervised rascals, about to raid the cookie jar, he thought, the grin growing even wider as he followed her inside.

One snap of the finger later, the Mage Light appeared and Gale heard himself gasp, a sound that came out about two octaves higher than he would have liked.

“Should be enough to keep us going for a bit,” Ley stated quietly, then smiled up at him. “Got an idea what you want to conjure up for them today?”

“Oh, do I ever…?” He rasped, gaze trailing over shelves that bent under the weight of countless packages, crates, cheese wheels and loosely rolled-up sausage links. Dangling from the ceiling, he spotted a variety of smoked meats as well as two pheasants that looked like they’d been shot just the day before. He laughed excitedly. “I’m not even sure where to begin…”

Ley hummed, rubbing her palms against each other. “Perhaps with whatever’s at risk of turning bad on the road?”

He nodded in agreement whilst wandering down a row of barrels, opening them one by one to inspect their contents.

“Mind if I seized the opportunity to hop off for a second?” She asked and Gale lifted his head, saw her fumbling with a stain on her dust-covered cloak. “Switch into something else whilst you’re busy taking stock? I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Take your time,” He pointed toward the ceiling, from where they heard stomping, heavy packs being shuffled around and muffled voices, seemingly in the middle of a heated argument. “Sounds like some bunk-related squabble, I’d say. Which should have a good chance of keeping them occupied for a bit.”

Ley tilted her head and squinted, listening attentively for a moment. “There seems to be an unfortunate shortage of those bunks,” she then said, quirking a brow at him. “Sure you don’t want to secure one for yourself before they’re all taken?”

“And risk squandering this opportunity?” He grinned and made a gesture encompassing the surrounding shelves. “I’d rather set up my tent again, to be frank. No need to worry. I’m perfectly content the way things are, I assure you.”

She didn’t answer, but her frown intensified as her gaze trailed over his worn-out travelling robes.

“Ah, that…” Gale looked down at himself, then back at her. “Not an issue at all.” Another snap of his fingers, and he was in his cosy, purple evening attire. Ley’s expression turned into one of utter befuddlement and he chuckled in response. “One of the many benefits a wizard’s education provides,” he said, gently shooing her away. “Now go, do what you have to do.”

For a moment, she just stood there, smiling in astonishment. Then she vanished without so much as making a sound.

Gale continued his survey for a good while, mentally checking off all the ingredients needed for the feast he had in mind. It wasn’t all that much they’d have to do, given that whoever had been in charge of the place so far had amassed a healthy supply of sauces, bouillon cubes, dried herbs and, well, everything else any cook worth their salt would always keep in reserve. He even found a few pre-made lumps of pastry dough, likely meant to be turned into some variation of pie in the very near future.

Humming some nonsensical melody, he shuffled together a promising selection and, batch by batch, began transporting it into the kitchen. After another minute of rummaging, he stumbled upon a cabinet containing an extensive selection of spices - which had him grinning from one ear to the other.

A short while later, he had just opened the last of the barrels and was more than satisfied with his findings, the door to the yard opened yet again.

“Well, that was faster than expected,” he quipped cheerfully, unloading an armful of delightfully pristine vegetables on the counter. “I was just about to-“

Then his eyes fell on the hulking frame of the druid, head lowered and shoulders bent so he could squeeze through the doorway.

“Halsin! What a…. pleasant surprise,” Gale tried to muster a smile. “I didn’t expect anyone to end up here quite that early.”

The elf gave one of his deep, rumbling laughs, nervously peering up to determine if it was safe to raise his head again. “Apologies for barging in like that. I was hoping to find the kitchen, see if I could get started with some preparations for our supper…” He stepped up to the counter, hands behind his back, approvingly eying the sumptuous assortment spread over the surface. “Seems I’ve come to the right place. Are you in need of assistance, by chance?”

Gale’s wry smile warmed up a little. “Kind of you to offer, but I fear that task has already been assigned. Besides, wouldn’t you rather procure yourself one of those sleeping commodities that appear to be in such high demand?” He pointed at the ceiling. The ruckus upstairs didn’t sound like it was about to quiet down anytime soon.

Halsin laughed again. “Oh, I’ve no need for a bed. Not as long as I have the chance to sleep under a canopy of stars.”

Gale nodded thoughtfully. “Commendable, such pragmatism. And quite fortunate for the rabble up there. One less contestant for those craving the luxury of a mattress.”

“Have you already…?” The druid glanced at the batch of carrots Gale was currently piling onto a cutting board, a knowing smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Oh… Am I right to presume the others have yet to learn of your presence here?”

Gale cleared his throat. Threw a sweet potato from one hand to the other. Looked from said sweet potato to the elf and back again. Cleared his throat once more.

Halsin chuckled, bending down a little. “Not to worry, friend. I’m rather in favour of entrusting the matter to more experienced hands. Were I to be left in charge, I’d just end up drenching everything in honey. Which probably wouldn’t be satisfactory for anyone leaning toward the more savoury side of things.”

Now Gale couldn’t help but laugh himself. “Bit of a sweet tooth, then? I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“I know, I know…” The druid grinned and lifted both hands. “Who would have thought…?” He sighed and nodded in pretend defeat. “Now, if you’re sure you don’t need my help, I shouldn’t keep you any-“

A faint gust whirled through the air behind Gale’s back, followed by a quiet gasp as Ley stumbled into the cabinet in front of her.

“Ah, I see. The assistant…” Halsin winked at her. Then turned toward the door. “Perhaps I can make myself useful by…” He hummed amusedly. “Diverting unwanted attention for the time being.”

How exactly… Gale thought, perplexedly watching the bulky man duck underneath the dangerously low-hanging frame. A second later, there was the sound of bones cracking and claws clinking, followed by a thud as a heavy body came to rest on the other side of the door.

Next to him, Ley snickered quietly.

“That should hold them at bay for a while,” she stated, plucking the half-forgotten sweet potato from his fingers. “Now, I assume you need these peeled?”

“Not quite,” Gale corrected with a smile, carefully wrestling it from her hand again, then dropped it into a big iron pot with the rest. “Boiled, first and foremost. Then, peeled. And mashed, eventually. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to…“

Sea green sleeves caught his attention.

Ley’s clothes normally didn’t feature such bright colours. Then again, her wardrobe only consisted of the things she arrived in and a few odd pieces acquired at the grove. This particular one, however, he hadn’t seen so far. The fabric seemed to be of remarkably refined quality, adorned with subtle embroidery and fitting her shape like a second skin. In fact, it fit her so perfectly that he found himself entirely unable to steer his gaze anywhere else. Or think of anything else, for that matter.

“As to…” he heard himself mumble, absently marvelling at the bend of her waist, the delicate shape of her shoulders and the velvety skin shimmering above a cleavage that left barely anything to the imagination. This was one of the rare occasions where she wore her hair open, which didn’t do anything to help redirect his attention somewhere less precarious. What also didn’t help was that the blouse in question seamlessly went over into equally tight pants. These he knew her to wear in the evenings, but now that they weren’t obstructed by cloaks or other wide-cut attire, there was no denying just how favourably they accentuated her-

“Gale?”

He blinked confusedly, eyes flicking up to her face. “Yes?”

“Everything alright with you?” The blush on her cheeks was barely visible, but her ears were glowing bright red.

“I was, erm…” He gave a shaky smile, trying his best to regain some modicum of composure. “Merely noting that this is the first time I’ve seen you wear something this vibrant.” He swallowed hard, which thankfully she didn’t see because her eyes were busy darting from her hands to the cutting board and then everything else on the counter. “Suits you rather well, I think.”

“Thank you…?” Ley mumbled hesitantly and graced him with a guarded smile. “Not sure I’m going to stick with it, though. It’s… a bit much, I think.”

“A bit much…?” He replied with a baffled laugh, only half paying attention to the water he had conjured to fill the potato pot, the latter welling over seconds later. “If you were sporting frills or puffed sleeves like some other individuals better left unnamed, then perhaps. But this-“

“Are you by chance referring to the individual who picked this out for me?” She snorted a laugh, raising a brow at him.

“Oh, well, yes. I mean…” Gale spluttered, absently cleaning up the mess his spell had left on the counter. “If we’re talking about whom I think we’re talking about, then yes, that would indeed be who I’m referring to. But let me assure you, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing. Seems his counsel was unrelated to personal preference and instead guided by his admittedly well-trained eye in matters of that nature.” Without thinking, he leaned in, raptly studying her features. “Which would also explain why he picked a colour so perfectly complimenting your eyes, I suppose. Even those golden specks are recurring in the-“

“Gale?”

He froze, noting that his fingers were ghosting over the embroidery on the hem right above her collarbone.

“Apologies. I...” Quickly removing his hand, he straightened up again, hoping his smile would be enough to hide his embarrassment. “… got carried away. Again. Hope you can forgive me. I’m not sure what’s come over me today.“

She looked at him for a long moment, eyes glinting with something he didn’t dare give any further thought. When she spoke, her voice was equal parts warm and teasing. “There was something you wanted me to do?”

“Right…” he cleared his throat and nodded toward the fire pit in the middle of the room. “If you’d be so inclined?”

Ley didn’t need to be asked twice.

She grinned and her hands began to move, smooth and effortless, as if she’d done this her whole life. He watched, not without some pride, as she mouthed a silent ‘Ignis’ and flames sprung to life between the embers, licking at the massive cast-iron chimney hood above. A moment later, he tried not to watch as she turned her back to him, heaving the pot off the counter and then toward the fire.

They spent a few minutes in blissful silence, puttering about whilst listening to the peacefully bubbling water. Every time he found Ley’s board empty, Gale handed her something new, no longer apologising for the occasional touching of hands but instead relishing the moment for what it was; oddly domestic and, in that, incredibly soothing. A feeling that seemed to become more and more familiar with every passing day.

One would think you’d have learned your lesson by now, that warning voice chided as he stole yet another glance at a smile so thoroughly contented it sent his heart fluttering. That handing yourself over without so much as a hint of hesitation will result in nothing but disaster. No matter what the coming days have in store for you, this will never become a reality. There’s no silver lining, and certainly no happily ever after. Not for you.

He knew that. Of course he did. Every step on this journey was a painful reminder of past mistakes. Of the price he’d inevitably have to pay for his transgressions. And the futility of attempting to escape his fate.

It would be cruel not to let her go, the voice urged in that insufferably benevolent tone. Better this ends with one broken heart instead of two.

An icy chill crept up his guts and closed around his chest.

Gale blinked and swallowed against the lump clogging his throat, suddenly aware he had done nothing but stare at his hands for quite some time now.

Ley appeared unaware of his brooding. She had just opened a jar of pickled lemons, humming as she brought it to her face to sniff at the contents.

“Not to your liking?” Gale quipped as he saw her frown with irritation, his voice a bit throaty, which thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.

“Not bad, necessarily,” she answered after a moment of contemplation, then squinted and stuck her nose into the jar once more. “Just… intense and a bit-“

A low grumbling noise caused both of them to whirl around.

For a moment, there was silence, eventually followed by what Gale could only assume to be the snoring of a peacefully slumbering bear.

“I believe our ever-so-vigilant sentinel is out of the picture,” he chuckled.

Ley nodded, voice turning to a whisper. “They might be upon us any minute now.”

“A possibility we were bound to face sooner or later,” he sighed with a smile and let his eyes wander around the kitchen.

Both kinds of potatoes were currently cooling off on the side. The pheasants had found their way into their respective casseroles, covered in well-seasoned, greasy goodness and nestled amidst a colourful assortment of herbs and vegetables. The pies only lacked the so-far unmashed potatoes, but were otherwise ready to get stuffed into the designated pans and then buried beneath the coals. A few odd tasks remained unfinished due to the lack of time, but every dish he deemed a bit more complicated was prepared and waiting to be committed to the embers.

“Now, if anyone insists on assuming command at this point, I’d say they’re welcome to it,” Gale stated with a satisfied grin. “Not much left to do besides a bit of peeling and chopping and then waiting for it all to be done.”

“Provided they manage to get in here,” Ley quipped and raised a brow at the door.

He followed her gaze, absently fumbling with the partially cleaned squash in his hands, unable to hold back the remark burning on his tongue. “The two of you are getting along splendidly, I’ve noticed.”

She gave him a puzzled, somewhat amused look. “Well, we’re in the same boat, aren’t we? No tadpoles, both a bit late to the party...”         

Right. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she hadn’t been around the day the nautiloid crashed.

“… besides, I believe having another shapeshifter around helps him acclimate. If that makes any sense.” Ley shrugged, then laughed. “Even if I’m not a druid, technically. Just a substitute of sorts.”

Gale’s features softened a little. “That thought hasn’t even crossed my mind. Sounds perfectly sensible, in my opinion.”

“Well, he also happens to remind me of my brother a little,” she chuckled, to which Gale almost dropped his knife. “Not based on looks, mind you. And certainly not on age. I mean, Migo is quite a bit younger than me and Halsin is what…?” Fingers tapping on the counter, Ley squinted at the door. “Three hundred? Four? Think I heard him say something to that effect.”

A stifled laugh escaped him, failing to envision a Ley-sized Halsin sharing her features.

From outside, they heard a tumultuous jumble of voices and a loud, ursine growl, unmistakably meant for their ears.

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” Gale smiled widely, eyes gleaming at the prospect of learning more-

The door flung open with a bang.

“I knew it!” Nori exclaimed with an impish grin. “Can’t leave you guys alone for a minute without…” She paused mid-sentence and stepped up to the counter, peering up at heaps of vegetables and glistening poultry legs poking over the edge.

“Without it resulting in a veritable feast!” Wyll finished her sentence excitedly, eyes growing wide as he spotted the pies on the far side.

Behind them, the rest of the group flocked inside, the last one to enter the room being Halsin, who threw both of them an apologetic look before closing the door.

“Told you it was a good idea to let the guy take charge again.” Karlach appeared behind Nori, leaning over the counter to longingly glance at the tenderloins that were yet to be seasoned. “Oh gods, I think I’m in love…”

Within moments, the room filled with laughter, Scratch’s joyful yapping and the creaking of benches as they got dragged toward the fire pit, which was promptly reignited and supplied with a generous amount of kindling.

To Gale’s endless relief, no one questioned his authority regarding the last preparations. The only comment on his presence came from Nori, who squinted at him and grumbled, “So long as nobody explodes…” before climbing on one of the barstools and joining them in their collective chopping efforts.

“Done?” Karlach asked a few minutes later, about to transport the last casserole to the fire.

“All done,” Gale confirmed, collecting boards and knives from all over the counter, putting a few of the latter to the side for later inspection. After all, it wasn’t like the residents of this place had any further use for that kind of thing. “Now, we wait.”

“Shame that whoever burnt this place didn’t see fit to spare the cellar…” Nori sighed, earning herself an inquiring look from Gale. “Yeah… Place is completely wrecked,” she elaborated, gesturing in the vague direction of the main building. “Nothing left but ash and molten glass. All that wonderful wine, just gone. Evaporated. What a waste.”

Gale and Ley exchanged a slightly worried glance. The bard’s inclination to relish in rather exuberant quantities of certain beverages hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Suppose we’ll have to resort to other means to pass the time, then.” Wyll patted her on the shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that, there’s plenty of stories to be shared. I mean, we have a minstrel in our midst, do we not?”

“Oh, come on,” the halfling chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Half the ones I know you’ve already heard. And I’ve got to keep some in reserve, who knows how long I’m gonna have to put up with you lot…”

“I could recount one or two tales of my travels if you’d like,” the warlock suggested, already throwing himself in position to give one of his infamous ‘Blade of Frontiers’ monologues when Shadowheart’s pointed finger snapped in his direction.

“No,” she declared, deadpan, the remark rewarded with a vigorous nod from Astarion.

Aside from Wyll’s disgruntled mumbling, there was no objection.

Silence stretched on for a long moment, the only sound that of Halsin’s pipe being ignited.

“I could offer one,” Ley said quietly.

Gale noticed her wince a second before every single head turned her way.

“Oh?” That was all Nori managed to get out, eyes brimming with excitement.

“A tale from your ventures through Wildspace?” Lae’zel chimed in, to everyone’s surprise. “This might actually prove interesting for a change.”

“Not necessarily from my ventures…” Ley replied, cautiously tilting her head.

“From earlier?” Karlach gasped, clasping her hands together. “From where you’re from, yeah? Home?”

“What kind of tale are we talking about, darling?” Astarion purred amicably. Gale couldn’t help but notice how long his eyes rested on the blouse and everything it so poorly concealed. “I suppose it won’t be the sort featuring magical kingdoms and dashingly handsome princes on snow-white stallions, would it?”

Ley tilted her head in the other direction, one hand making an indecisive gesture. “Not quite, no.”

Shadowheart raised a brow at the elf. “Who knows, might just feature the odd damsel in distress, requiring saving from the clutches of some bloodthirsty, tooth-baring monstrosity…”

Astarion scoffed. Karlach and Nori snickered.

“Almost.” Ley grinned, squinting at the vampire, then at the others. “Kingdom in question isn’t the least bit magical, though. Most of the princes end up dead and the damsel and the monster end up, well…”

“Oh my,” Astarion leaned forward, fangs bared in an unbearably salacious sneer. “In that case, consider my curiosity piqued.”

From one second to the next, the room was bustling with activity. Benches were pulled closer to the fire, Shadowheart and Wyll scoured the cupboards for tea, whilst Karlach hauled a massive kettle toward the pit. Nori stormed out of the room and, moments later, returned with her notebook, ink and quill carelessly stuffed under her arm.

“What did I just agree to?” Ley mumbled, throwing Gale a helpless look.

“To something that is nowhere near as terrifying as you think it to be,” he soothed. And then, on a whim, placed a hand between her shoulder blades, fingers gently stroking up and down her spine.

She leaned back a little and closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she mumbled after a moment.

He raised a brow, watching as the others gathered around the fire. “For what?”

“For being you.”

Chapter Text

Exile

*

“I’m not sure how one would even begin, telling a story like that…”

Ley shifted in place, idly kneading her hands. Visibly not comfortable with being the centre of attention.

Gale hummed pensively and took a seat next to her, briefly pondering if he should reach for her back again, attempt to soothe that tension a little, but quickly decided against it.

Nori, sitting on a bench across the fire, legs crossed in front of her and busily sorting through her notes, looked up and chuckled. “You can never go wrong by starting with something like ‘Once upon a time’ or ‘In a kingdom far, far away’. That usually works a charm.”

Approving nods from Wyll and Karlach. Astarion quirked a brow.

Ley gave a tentative smile, then rubbed her arms as if freezing. Gale wasn’t sure he had seen her this nervous since the day she had stumbled into their camp, mute and disoriented.

“Alright then,” she sighed and stared into the fire. “No sense arguing with experience, I suppose.”

Clearing her throat, she threw a glance at the book in Nori’s hands. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Now, I may not be able to share my thoughts via tadpole…” Ley straightened up. Snapped her fingers and, with a soft chime, her own, bulky tome appeared in her lap. She opened it and flicked through the pages. “But perhaps this might suffice as an alternative.”

Reaching one of the very first pages, she raised her head and looked around the other’s faces.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom that takes about three days of mildly panicked dimension-skipping to reach, provided one knows where to look…” She chuckled, but Gale heard the bitterness in the last part. “There was a pretty yellow sun, shining in the middle of nowhere.”

A twirl of her index finger pulled a trio of glimmering orbs from the page.

“Could swear I’ve seen those before,” Karlach stated, squinting and tilting her head. “Those the ones you used to learn?”

Ley gave her a warm smile, then nodded and directed the largest one toward the fire. It came to a halt, idly bobbing up and down above the flames.

“In its orbit…”

The second orb followed the first.

“… drifted a single, massive planet, which in turn…”

The third one, smallest of the bunch, found its place next to the others, all of them now slowly rotating around each other.

“… was circled by a moon. A moon the people inhabiting it had given the name Aman.”

When Gale looked back at her, he spotted her thumb stuck between some pages in the middle of the book, hand clasping around the cover as if trying to ground herself.

The ones from yesterday, he thought with a smile, recognising the haphazard medley of Amanian runes and letters in Common peering out underneath.

Ley pointed at the smallest orb.

“It’s important to note that those people hadn’t always lived there. Originally, they hailed from the planet below. Forced to abandon it in the wake of some unfathomable, cataclysmic event the nature of which unfortunately hasn’t been documented very well.”

She cleared her throat, then snapped her fingers to which the bigger one burst into flames.

“All we know, from what little has been passed down through the generations, is that it was lethal. The kind of disaster able to decimate all life on the surface in a matter of days. Now, our forefathers may not have had the means to prevent the whole thing from happening, but…”

Pages flicked. Another image was pulled from them. It was the blueprint of her ship, the one she had shown them on that very first evening.

“… as luck would have it, they were a nation of artificers. Considerably skilled ones at that. And back in those days, their craftsmanship was at its peak. Allowing them to construct an armada of arcs, much like this one, able to carry them away by the thousands, right before disaster struck. And so…”

She nodded at the small orb, untouched by the flames devastating the other.

“… they left their ancestral home and went to the moon.”

Karlach mouthed a quiet ‘Awesome…’ and Gale chuckled under his breath.

“I suppose they must have known what kind of wasteland awaited them. Aman was nothing but rocks and dust at the time. But they came prepared. Brought with them not only seeds and livestock, but soil and water as well. Of course, now they had to do without the amenities they had grown accustomed to. All those little things one tends to forget whilst huddled in luxury’s lap. Running water, paved streets, parks and beaches…”

Gale stared into the fire, thinking back to the cosy warmth of his tower and the countless comforts his life in Waterdeep had been blessed with.

“I imagine they must have missed those quite a lot,” Ley continued, a wry smirk darting over her features as she glimpsed at the busily moving quill in Nori’s fingers.

“But they knew they’d never be able to return, so the only thing left to do was build. And build they did. Constructed a city from stone and metal, the two things their new home provided in abundance. Dug deep into the ground, uncovering the ice close to the core. Crafted devices to melt and funnel it to the surface. To water the crops they were forced to raise in greenhouses due to the unforgiving atmosphere.”

Pages rustled and Gale turned his head, saw Ley browse her book, voice steady and focused as she continued.

“You see, Aman didn’t give them much room to spread out. And so, as they reached the limits of available space, when the city encompassed the entirety of the surface, they had to expand vertically. Layer upon layer, they built up into the sky, the lowest ones carved deep into the stone below. Here, let me try to give you an impression.”

Ley’s fingers stopped at a page depicting what seemed to be the downward view of a street,  flanked by rows of towering, oddly contorted-looking buildings. Gale chuckled as he noticed the illustration even featured the hands that were drawing it as well as the book itself.

Ink parted from paper, the lines briefly balling up and unfurling amidst the flames.

The image that unravelled was one of meticulous detail. Every stroke unerringly precise, the combination of shading and vivid highlights conveying the impression of it somehow being alive. The window to a world not quite as alien as expected.

“Who knew Amanian artificers came with a literal artistic skill set?” Shadowheart quipped, approvingly cocking a brow, which earned her an amused snicker from Nori.

“Comes with the trade,” Ley shrugged nonchalantly. “And not so much for entertainment reasons, but for pretty straightforward, pragmatic ones. This was taken from the roof of a water tower I was overhauling at the time. See those pipes there?”

She pointed at something down at the foundation of the neighbouring building.

Gale leaned forward.

The artist, presumably Ley herself, appeared to be overlooking the street from quite some distance above the ground, judging by the steep perspective. Every now and then fragile beams crossed over it, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be bridges, connecting a myriad of skew-whiff balconies and walkways. The buildings themselves were a ragtag jumble of makeshift constructions, the individual floors stapled on top of each other in a way that didn’t seem to follow any discernible pattern. On their sides he saw thin lines, the ones Ley was aiming her finger at, snake down the edges, tangling up in a confusing heap of knots before meeting the ground.

“Those were falling apart,” Ley elaborated. “Which was a bit of an issue at the time. Had about a day to find a solution before they could burst and flood the lower city.”

Gale squinted.

The longer he looked, the more he began to comprehend the scale of what he saw. That those dots scattering the very bottom were not, in fact, random pebbles on the pavement, but whole crowds of people. That the twisted reels and cords ranking up the walls, which he had initially assumed to serve an ornamental purpose, were actually the pipes Ley was talking about, even the thin ones spanning the size of a tree trunk.

“Not that those are in any way important to this story, mind you,” Ley shrugged, a shy smile on her lips. “This is just to give you an impression of what things looked like where I’m from. Bit of a mess. Things falling apart left, right and centre. Aman in a nutshell, basically.”

Lae’zel cocked her head, scowling at the image hovering over the flames. “Your people seem much less organised than I would have thought. Discipline must have declined after the migration.”

Ley didn’t answer, just snorted a laugh.

“Is all of it this…?” Karlach exclaimed with wide-open eyes. “This… huge?”

Ley nodded, a bit perplexed by the tieflings’ reaction. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“And you just casually dangled your bits over there?” Nori asked anxiously, brows knotting into a worried frown.

“Well, yes…?” Ley threw the halfling a quizzical look. “How else would I evaluate the damage?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Nori swallowed hard, frown intensifying. “Some way that doesn’t include skipping about on rooftops, perhaps?”

“Nah…” Ley made a throw-away gesture, her smile broadening into a grin. “Where’d be the fun in that…”

“I don’t see a single tree in that picture,” Halsin mumbled, fingers idly playing with his pipe. “Nor anything else that seems to be growing.”

“No,” Ley affirmed ruefully. “Not outside the greenhouses, at least.”

The druid shuddered, the thought visibly not sitting well with him.

“At least you had those,” Karlach stated absently. “Never seen so much as a speck of green, back in Avernus.”

Wyll chuckled next to her. “I’m not sure drawing a connection between Ley’s home and the hells is necessarily justified…”

The tiefling gave a startled grunt, an apologetic smirk forming on her lips.

“But then I can’t think of any place even remotely comparable,” the warlock mused, contemplatively squinting at the picture again. “Certainly not the Gate. Nor most other cities I’ve seen during my travels.”

Gale hummed thoughtfully.

True, the sheer size of it all was nothing short of ridiculous. Unlike anything he had ever seen or read about. But aside from that, the overall picture didn’t seem that far from the standard Faerûnian metropolis. Not including Waterdeep, of course. This messy kind of architecture was the antithesis of the distinguished, lofty edifices and neatly ordered streets of his hometown. Even though, with a little bit of squinting and a dash of imagination, one could discern a vague similarity to some parts of the Dock Ward. Those constructed in a more Gondian-inspired fashion.

Well, were it not for the scale.

He turned toward Ley. “Am I right to presume this is but the surface layer?”

“This is topside, yes. Lower parts of the city wouldn’t be quite that bright. Down there, the only source of light is the artificial kind. Quite a lot of people spend their whole lives without ever seeing the sun.”

She laughed quietly, the warmth of fond memories filling her eyes.

“Caught my first glimpse when I was about three, I think. According to my mother, I wouldn’t stop crying because I thought something was wrong with the sky.”

Gale chuckled, trying to imagine a toddler-sized Ley, dipped in and out a ray of sunlight by her mother, screaming and kicking her legs whenever that obtrusive shininess dared to assault her skin.

“Sounds like heaven if you ask me,” Astarion sighed dramatically.

Ley snickered, amusedly quirking a brow at the vampire. “I somewhat doubt you’d like it there. Not much to do, other than work and the occasional tavern visit. That’s the thing when living in a restricted place like this. You’re forced to operate economically. Certainly wouldn’t waste time and valuable resources on the refining of wines or other-”

“Oh gods, never mind then,” the elf scoffed, silver locks shaking with indignation. “What a horribly bland way to live.”

“Certainly would seem that way to you,” Ley giggled, nodding her consent. “And now that I’ve seen a bit more of the world, I’d wholeheartedly agree.”

She looked around their faces, a hint of uncertainty creeping over her features.

“Now, I could probably spend hours on end going into detail about the technicalities of everyday life back there. But I don’t think you’d want to listen to my babbling ‘til sunrise, so perhaps it’s time I got to the important part.”

Her gaze fell to the ground.

“The part you need to hear so you can decide whether to keep me around or not.”

A cold fist closed around Gale’s heart and he swallowed, painfully reminded that, just a few days ago, he had found himself on the receiving end of a very similar situation. And again, there was that overwhelming urge to reach for her shoulder.

“No one’s leaving,” Nori stated softly, her tone both soothing and final. “Not you. Nor anyone else.”

For a moment, Ley said nothing. Just stared into the flames as if fighting some fierce, internal battle with herself. When she looked up again, clearing her throat and kneading her hands, a shy smile played around the corners of her mouth.

“So… you may have picked up on the fact that I’m an engineer.”

“You what?!” Nori squeaked in pretend surprise, nose-diving between the sides of her notebook, quill scratching frantically.

“That may have been mentioned once or twice, yes.” Shadowheart chuckled.

Karlach nodded thoughtfully. “Big old ship kind of gave you away.”

“I know. Surprise, surprise…” Ley laughed, which thankfully swept all tension from her face. “Although, technically, I was still an apprentice by the time I left. One of the older students under the tutelage of a man named Tully. Wonderful man. Brilliant like you wouldn’t believe. Constructed devices no one else had ever dared to dream of. Solved problems before the rest of us even knew they existed. Also happens to hold-“

She paused for a second.

“Happened to hold the title of High Engineer. Which would be the highest-ranking position in our line of work. Pretty great honour, learning under someone like that. An incredible teacher. Demanding, but fiercely loyal toward his pupils.”

Her voice threatened to boil over with barely held-back enthusiasm and she made another pause, trying to ground herself by fumbling with her sleeve. Gale’ lips curled upward.

“I’m telling you this just so you to understand what a crucial role that man played. Not just for me, but for everyone involved. Whenever something important fell apart - which was pretty much every day - people turned to him for help. Politicians relied on his advice when making decisions. He was looked up to. And blindly trusted.”

“Sounds oddly familiar,” Gale mumbled.

Ley quirked a brow, throwing him an inquisitive glance from the side. He smiled and shook his head, gesturing for her to continue.

“Alright, so…” With a slightly irritated smile, she returned her attention back to the others. “About a decade before my departure, a group of historians and scholars decided it was time to let him in on a big, ugly secret. One he eventually shared with his students. You see, our way of living, the whole concept of what we built over the centuries, came with a massive, underlying problem. A mistake in the equation of our ancestors. One so daunting that people who accidentally stumbled over it usually just averted their eyes and moved on. Trying to forget as best they could, because solving it was nigh on impossible.”

Across the fire, Nori looked up from the notebook, visibly scrambling her head. Ley chuckled at the sight, raising a brow at the halfling.

“Any guesses?”

Lae’zel was the first to answer. “Your kin don’t strike me as the belligerent type.” She looked up, head cocked, a teasing smirk dancing on her lips. “Likely ill-prepared to face any kind of hostile invasion. Was that what occurred?”

The slightly provocative undertone was met with an equally taunting wink. “Not even close.”

"Boredom,” Astarion stated promptly, his expression deadpan. “Riots in the streets. Because people didn’t know how else to let off steam.”

Ley laughed. “Plausible, but no.”

“Ah, come off it,” Nori made a dismissive gesture toward the elf, then turned her focus to Ley. “Maybe an issue with the food supply? Some kind of crop disease or irrigation systems breaking down…”

That earned her an approving, if mildly condescending nod. “That’s a bit closer.”

Gale quirked a brow. “Surely such a resourceful nation would have been able to deal with a few leaking pipes?”

He threw the halfling a quizzical glance, then the image still bobbing up and down mid-air. Then he looked at Ley.

“You’ve dabbled with such matters yourself. I can’t imagine that was an issue you weren’t able to deal with.”

“Most certainly wasn’t,” Ley chuckled, poking a finger at the illustration. “Those were fixed the same day.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Nori mused broodingly. “Probably too mundane of a problem to really pose a threat.”

Ley squinted, head tilting to and fro. “Wouldn’t say that’s necessarily true. Sometimes it’s the simple things, you know...”

A mistake in the equation, Gale thought. One their ancestors made.

He hummed contemplatively, trying to conjure up a vision of how the whole thing came to be.

A moon, slowly engulfed by a constantly expanding jungle of those towering constructions, relentlessly creeping over the surface and claiming the land until nothing was left to be claimed. Metal monstrosities, crawling and creaking, filling up every inch of available space until they had no choice but to burst into the skies, to tear up the ground and burrow underneath. A moon that was a city, a behemoth of brass and copper, leaking oil and breathing steam.

One could only wonder what lay at its heart.

“Technical failure may yet be on the table,” he said, attentively observing Ley’s face. “A tooth tends to rot at the root, so I’d wager the cause of said problem lied somewhere within the bowels of the city. Perhaps buried under a century’s worth of debris, denying access to anyone capable of resolving it.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “That certainly was part of it, yes. An important one. But it doesn’t hit the core of the matter. It’s just the symptom. Not the sickness itself.”

“Overpopulation,” Halsin said quietly.

There was a collective turning of heads. The druid didn’t even look up from his pipe, patiently relighting it before finally raising his head.

“An ever-growing population, relying on a finite number of resources. You never stood a chance,” he mumbled through a mouthful of smoke.

“There we go.” Ley smiled at him, features tainted by a pang of melancholy.

Halsin reciprocated the smile, his expression bitter, yet deeply compassionate. “An artificial environment, frozen in time and never able to expand beyond its borders. Ceaselessly exhausting itself to provide for all those thousands of mouths it had to feed until there simply were too many of them. And doing so without fail, I assume, seeing as you remained unaware of the fate awaiting you.”

“That’s it?” Nori frowned in disbelief.

Ley nodded, voice quiet and remorseful as she continued. “Sounds almost too simple, I know. But that’s precisely what happened. We were feeding off crops grown in the very same soil the first builders had brought from the old world. Nourishing both them and ourselves with what little water we could funnel from the core. Every crack in a greenhouse panel, every burst pipe essentially threatening the lives of hundreds. A catastrophe waiting to happen.”

Shadowheart got up from her seat and plucked the half-forgotten teapot from the embers, commencing to pour cup after cup. They were reached around the fire until there was one in every hand.

“And no one picked up on that?” She asked, raising a brow in Ley’s direction.

“Some did,” Ley answered, cautiously blowing on her tea. “Those were the ones that came to Tully.”

“Did no one ever…” The cleric shook her head in irritation, returning to her spot on the bench. “No one ever suggested just… leaving?”

Ley laughed.

“Oh, that was the big dream,” she chuckled. “But one so far out of reach, it never became more than that. A fantasy. You see, that was the one thing our ancestors didn’t consider. How much of their knowledge would be lost to the ravages of time, including the skills necessary to construct ships capable of traversing Wildspace. Leaving us in the dark about our fate until we no longer had a chance to change it. And in that, ultimately delivering us to famine and decay. Even if we had caught wind of the whole dilemma earlier on…”

She blew on her tea again. When her hands lowered, Gale saw knuckles turning white as her fingers tightened their grip around the cup.

“… I’m not sure what could’ve been done differently. What remained of the old fleet had been stripped to the bone. Stripped for parts the first ones needed to build, after their arrival. And had someone attempted to build new ones, they’d have found all those ancient blueprints and schematics crumbled to dust. Besides, we wouldn’t even have known what to look for. If it was even feasible, thinking about a return. After the first generations passed away, there was no one to remind us of the world we came from. That there once were things like oceans and mountains and forests.”

An unimaginable notion. Gale felt goosebumps roll down his arms.

He studied her face. That intensely focused, yet absent expression of someone roused by memories of despair and helpless frustration. To think that this face, at least for most of its life, never witnessed such a thing as waves breaching on the shore, or the slow dance of leaves churning in the wind. He looked at her hands, fingers desperately clutching around the cup. Remembered tucking flowers between them whilst naming their respective colours. Which might have been the first anyone had ever given to her.

There would have to be more flowers. To make up for lost time.

Ley drew a heaving breath. “Those memories were lost to us.”

Gale forced his gaze away from her hands.

“Including those about why they had to leave in the first place. What remains is a handful of half-crumbled statues in the caverns below the lower city, staring into rooms no one has set foot in for centuries. Apart from the few unfortunate souls who had to dig their way through the catacombs for maintenance reasons, as Gale so correctly assumed.”

She smiled at him, eyes brimming with fondness. Gale smiled back, threatening to melt into a puddle.

“Well…” Karlach sighed. “Fuck.”

“How’d you manage to keep it all going then?” Nori asked, quill still absently scribbling away in her notebook.

Ley laughed, a bitter, yet somehow defiant sound that reverberated from the walls. “With a knack for improvisation, that’s how.”

“Seems like a recipe for disaster,” Gale heard himself say, blushing and falling into a slight stutter as he tried to rectify. “Not that I’m questioning the competence of anyone involved, of course, not for a second-“

He was cut off by a chuckle, followed by the amused quirking of a brow.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” she conceded, smiling warmly. Her gaze fell to the ground. “That’s what it resulted in. Preventing the inevitable was not a matter of skill. Aman was far beyond the point of saving. Let me think…”

Ley started counting with her fingers.

“I started my studies when I was twenty-one. Back then, everything felt fairly normal. Through the following years, things slowly started spiralling out of control. I was in my fourth year when Tully filled us in on the whole affair. A little while later, I had just turned twenty-five, there were first reports of ominous creaking sounds, coming from the catacombs. You see, somewhere down there, the foundations had begun to erode.”

Eyes staring holes into the air, she gave a half-hearted snicker.

“Late at night, when the streets were quiet, you could hear the supports screech. Feel the ground rumble. The whole city stirring in its sleep.”

She took a careful sip from her cup.

“That is…” Wyll cleared his throat. “Terrifying. Like a house of cards collapsing under its weight.”

Ley grinned weakly. “That describes it pretty well, yes. Now, at some point, the noises were impossible to ignore. People started asking questions. It was then that Tully decided to make the whole thing public. Which didn’t necessarily make things easier in the long run. By the time my apprenticeship neared its end, there was panic in the streets. People did indeed riot…”

She nodded toward Astarion, the vampire throwing her an uneasy smirk in response.

“Though most definitely not because of boredom. They were fearing for their lives. The floor was crumbling beneath their feet. In some places, giving in, swallowing entire houses in a matter of seconds. By that time, food and clean water had become scarce. We tried to delay the inevitable as best we could, very much aware our days were numbered if we didn’t soon come up with a solution.”

“But you did, right?” Karlach blurted out. “Came up with some…” Big red hands hurled through the air. “… fancy thingamajig that, that…”

Ley smiled. “Yes?”

“Well, that…” The tiefling sighed with exasperation. “That would, I don’t know... Fix things?”

“Oh, believe me, we tried,” Ley chuckled bitterly. “Left no page unturned in our efforts. But one can dilute earth only so much until, eventually, it’s no longer fertile. And it wasn’t like we could just conjure up water with the snap of a finger…”

The sentiment was underlined with a snap of her own.

“I keep asking myself…” She threw a rueful look at Gale. “What could have been, had we been able to address the issue with magic at our disposal...”

He nodded, still bewildered by the notion. A world without Weave. Lacking the very essence of what the vast majority of his life had always revolved around. What gave it purpose. And meaning.

“Wait, what?” Karlach’s brows flung upward.

Nori’s quill halted in its tracks. “Are you saying…”

Ley’s mouth formed a silent Oh. “Think I forgot to mention that. Yeah… not a whiff of magic on Aman.”

The room burst into bustling commotion.

Judging by the bewilderment on their faces, Gale wasn’t the only one disturbed by the idea. But apparently, he’d been the only one already aware of that particular detail. He zoned out a little, half-paying attention to the cascade of questions Ley was showered with and that he, for the most part, already knew the answer to.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like. For her and all those others. Crammed together in the belly of that colossal behemoth, spending their life amidst rattling gears and wheezing valves. Simpler, one would presume. Though perhaps a bit dull in comparison. Frugal, even. But then again, for someone who never knew anything else, that would have been just as normal as this life was to him. Their day-to-day would have revolved around maintenance and repairs, which inevitably would have led to inventors and mechanics being among the highest-regarded occupations.

Gale stole another glance at Ley, who was still busy replying to their collective outraged babbling.

She would have been well-respected back there. Would likely have built a reputation with others in her line of work. And perhaps beyond that. Anyone mentored by such an illustrious figure would have eventually raised attention, he knew that all too well. And gifted as she was - she’d built a ship, for heaven’s sake - there was no doubt her career would have taken a route much like his own, had she been able to finish her education.

What would his life have looked like, had he grown up under similar circumstances? What would have become of him, had he been born on Aman? Unaware things such as magic even existed, never paying heed to any kind of god or other higher power? He’d never have been tempted to open a certain tome, that much was clear. Wouldn’t have had his heart broken by a goddess and, therefore never have made that most foolish of mistakes in the attempt to win back her favour.

Perhaps I’d be otherwise occupied, he thought, lips inadvertently curling into a smile, eyes briefly darting to Ley’s face again. And much better off for it, presumably.

Provided he’d been fortunate enough to make her acquaintance, naturally. Which might have never come to pass, depending on what circles he’d have moved in, and what path his life would have taken. And, of course, what profession would have called to him. He’d likely have ended up a scholar of some kind. Or perhaps an artisan. After all, he’d been blessed with rather nimble fingers.

Might have become a tinkerer myself, Gale mused, raising a brow at his hands. Then chuckled as his gaze fell upon his knees. Though not the sort scaling rooftops, I’d wager.

“… no curses, no blessings, no gods, no devils.” Ley’s voice ripped him out of his daydream. For a moment, he saw her gaze dart to the floor. “Not at that point, anyway.”

Karlach leaned back, absently scratching her head. “No devils…”

“No wonder you were running out of options,” Shadowheart stated dryly.

“And out of time,” Ley confirmed with an exhausted nod. “But no matter how much we scrambled our heads, there was nothing to be done, no solution presenting itself. Until…”

She cleared her throat, fingers tapping against the book in her lap.

“Until one day, a certain High Engineer finally turned his gaze to the planet below.”

Lae’zel threw her a curious look. “I assume this is when your kind took to the skies again?”

“Oh, much better,” Ley grinned, leafing through the pages. “Tully didn’t just build a ship. He…”

Another ball of curled-up lines flung toward the fire, the unfolding image replacing the previous one.

“… He built a door.”

This one was coloured. And much more detailed. The strokes set by a less enthusiastic hand but rather a patient one, indicating year-long practice and daily routine.

What they saw was the inside of an auditorium. Its scale was gargantuan, which was to be expected, the ceiling supported by columns wide enough to make the people crowding the floor appear like ants in comparison. Hundreds of faces dotted the stands in the background, all of them bright and gleaming with cheerful anticipation.

In the centre, a group of visibly exhausted, yet proud-looking individuals were gathered around what looked to be a massive gate, circular and three times taller than the largest man standing at its feet. The frame was made entirely from metal, glinting like polished bronze and adorned with a dense pattern of cogs and pistons. Inside, they saw a swirling mass of light, vaguely resembling a landscape, though contorted and twisted like something from a fever dream. It seemed to be churning, fiery sparks sputtering from the surface.

Closest to the gate, they saw a man, white-haired and bearded, tall as a beanstalk and just as brittle, and yet exuding a joyful, mild-mannered kind of authority. His face was parted into a smile, one speaking of unshakable confidence and effervescent optimism.

At his side, a young Ley leaned against the side of the gate, arms crossed and sporting a grease-smeared blouse that may have been white at some point. She was grinning from ear to ear, bent forward and squinting at two similarly clothed boys, eyes sparkling with amiable glee.

“Aaaw…” Karlach cooed at the sight, throwing Ley an adoring wink. “Those yours?”

Astarion’s brows flung to his hairline. Nori’s followed suit.

Ley didn’t seem to notice.

“The youngest one’s in the gaggle, yes. Of course, demanding to be part of, wait-“

She blushed hard, cleared her throat and gave a nervous little snicker.

“You mean like mine mine?” A hand on her chest, she stared at the tiefling, vigorously shaking her head. “Oh, heavens forbid, no. Nothing like that. They just, uhm…”

Across the fire, Nori poked an elbow in Astarion’s side.

“Seemed to be tied to my apron strings. Don’t ask me why, though. That’s just how things were with the freshmen.”

Gale chuckled under his breath.

He had no trouble picturing that sort of dynamic. Nervous youngsters with wide eyes, overwhelmed with new impressions, instinctively seeking refuge in the arms of a woman who’d greet them with that irresistible, genuinely fond smile. Which, in this case, was even more dazzling than usual.

“You’re practically radiating passion there,” he heard himself say, immediately regretting his choice of words. “Seem to be in high spirits, is what I mean…” He nodded at the image. “Just like the rest of your peers. Jubilant. Ecstatic, even.”

Ley hummed affirmatively.

“Well, that was the big day, after all,” she said quietly, but not without a bit of pride. “Half the city came to watch. That’s the reason I’m actually in the picture and not the one drawing it. Because the press had been invited and, for once, decided not to skimp on ink. To capture what was supposed to be a moment of triumph. Something for the history books.”

She paused, one hand rubbing over tired eyes.

“And the latter was certainly the case.”

“Oh my,” Astarion grinned suggestively. “Are we heading into fairytale territory, darling? Dashing heroes, frightful beasts?”

Ley nodded, a wry smirk on her lips. “That we are. And I promise I’ll try to stick to the short version. This has been far too-“

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Nori looked up from her notebook, glaring over the flames.

“Lady, I’ve been talking more in the past half an hour than over the last six years combined. Would you please show mercy and let me save some bits for another day?”

Ley sighed, pleadingly raising a brow at a very disgruntled halfling, who then grumbled something inaudible and poked her nose back between the pages.

Then she smiled, clasped her hands together and straightened up.

“Alright then. Imagine for a moment how it would be. To take a step into the unknown and land in a place where the horizon is a hundred times wider than you thought it could be. Where the landscape is covered in green, when all you’ve ever known is grey. Nothing like here, mind you. You’d probably find it rather dull. But to us, it felt like paradise. All of it growing by itself, wild and free and completely unshackled…”

Halsin chuckled into his pipe, amusedly gleaming at Ley’s reverent smile.

“The whole place scattered with ruins, as one would expect. Overgrown remnants of a dead city, reaching as far as the eye could see. Here, let me see if I have…”

She looked down, and they heard pages rustling. Then several images flung through the fire in quick succession.

They saw clockwork towers, half-eaten by rust, toppled over like trees in a hurricane. Giant domes and arches, broken and sunken into the ground. Skeletal remains of what might have once been a factory, the walls all but crumbled and rotten. Crashed into its side, the broken bones of a ship lay scattered on the ground, its form roughly resembling the one Ley had arrived in. Though about three times its size.

“Needless to say, we were having a field day.”

Gale snorted out a laugh. “Oh, I can imagine. That must have been one hell of a revelation.”

Ley smiled, then pulled up a final picture.

Between the ribs of another fallen edifice, half-buried into the side of a cliff, they saw the gaping maw of a tunnel, a steep slope leading down into the dark.

“Now, obviously, we didn’t go there with a concrete plan,” Ley continued, and again, Gale noticed her voice being strung with that dreadful threat of melancholy. “Had no idea what to look for. So we just strolled about and took it all in. A group of would-be adventurers exploring a world they only ever heard rumours about. Led by their wise, old master, their knight in not-so-shining armour. Trying to commit every little detail to either memory or paper. Some of us already discussing whether we should just scavenge the place and bring our finds to Aman, or straight-up relocate everyone here. And then, we stumbled upon this place.”

She nodded at the picture, nervously kneading her hands for a moment.

“This is where you found that… Thing?” Nori asked softly.

“No,” Ley mumbled, eyes staring into nothingness. “This is where the Thing found us.”

She cleared her throat, circling her shoulders to shake off the tension.

“Fortunately, we hadn’t strayed too far from the portal at that point. See, at first, we thought it was some kind of storage facility. So many sealed containers we couldn’t figure out how to open. Big ones, with complicated locks. In hindsight, perhaps a bit too complicated. As if the cargo itself wasn’t as important as the need to keep people away from it. Or it away from people. They were all connected, a fact that no one truly paid attention to when we went in. The deeper we got, the more there were. And some of them seemed to be glowing from within.”

“I believe I have an idea where this is going,” Shadowheart murmured into her tea.

Wyll shuffled forward on the bench. “Wait, were those holding-“

“Energy,” Ley nodded, rewarding the warlock with a rueful smile. “Acting as tanks of some kind. That much became clear when we reached the main hall. The whole floor was packed with those things. Hundreds of them. Lined up like coffins in a morgue. They were sizzling as we passed them, gleaming in the dark. That’s when a few of us started to feel a little uncomfortable. None of us were easily spooked, mind you. Raised without seeing the sun, used to delve into the deepest, murkiest pits of the lower city. We knew our way around broken conduits and flickering lights. That was not the issue. The issue was that the stuff still seemed to work.”

Astarion scoffed. “And the ever so illustrious High Engineer didn’t notice something was off?”

“No, he didn’t,” Ley replied quietly. “The man wasn’t in his right mind at that point. He had worked toward this for almost a decade, don’t forget that. Weighed down by all those impossible expectations, solely responsible for the continued survival of a nation. His nation. And now within arms reach of so many promising solutions.”

She shook her head, softly smiling down at her hands. “He was beside himself with joy.”

“Can’t say I blame the guy,” Karlach stated considerately.

“Neither can I. Never did.”

Ley swallowed hard. Then she looked up, one finger aiming toward the fire again.

“There was a door on the other end. Behind it, what seemed to be scientific equipment. Buried under several centuries worth of dust but, for the most part, intact. Neatly stacked and sorted on tables of stone, all of which stood around a podium. On that, a steel socket. Surrounded by clasps three times my size, like metal fingers, reaching out from the ground. No longer closed around what they were supposed to be holding.”

“Tsk!” Lae’zel hissed, chin briefly flinging to the side. “Don’t tell me you were foolish enough to touch it.”

“Oh, hells no. I…” Ley laughed, tutting and shaking her head. “…was busy. And quite a ways away, near the entrance. With Tully. Had our noses buried in some very intriguing blueprints we found under one of the tables. Schematics for a ship, as it happens. Had an intricate device embedded right in its centre. Some spherical shape locked within.”

The gith’s brows flung upward. A rare smile appeared on her lips.

“He was lamenting about this and that, the way he usually did. How his back ached. How his feet hurt. How terrible the lack of illumination was for his poor, old eyes. And then someone turned the light on. Or so I thought. I didn’t even turn around. Just shouted a ‘thank you’ over my shoulder, glad someone had the sense to stifle his bickering. A few of the guys were laughing, they knew how he was.”

Her gaze drifted off. Gale saw her features harden.

“They were inspecting those clasps, judging by the clinking and clanking I heard in the background. Fryl, one of the older ones, made a comment about scorch marks. About the temperature needed to leave those on forged steel. A moment later the lights got even brighter. And everything started to feel a little hot.”

“It came from those storage things?” Nori asked, the quill in her hand no longer moving. “Those tanks?”

Ley looked up, head indecisively rocking from left to right.

“In a way. It didn’t just burst out of them and assault us, if that’s what you’re thinking. At first, it was just some vague, eerie presence. Like something had entered the room without us noticing. A faint sizzle, easily missed next to all that babbling. A subtle flicker in the air. Nothing you could point a finger at. We probably wouldn’t even have picked up on it, had it not been for the sudden change in temperature. From one moment to the next, I was drenched in sweat. I remember feeling that weird tingling on the back of my head, the one you get when you just know someone’s watching.”

“Unsurprising, I’d say,” Lae’zel contemplated impartially. “You were intruding on its territory. Bound to provoke some hostile reaction.”

“Hmm…” Ley squinted indecisively, gritting her teeth. “Not hostile, necessarily. More like… curious. Calculating. Sizing us up.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Shadowheart asked with honest irritation. “Turn tail and run the moment you knew something was wrong?”

The question was met with a bitter laugh.

“What do you want to hear from me?” Ley smirked ruefully. “That we were idiots? A cocky bunch of wannabe heroes that thought they were invincible? Yes, that we were. But we also happened to be scientists, and we had a mission. Sure, the situation was giving us the cold shakes, but it was so gods damn fascinating. There was no chance any of us would have left at that point. Besides…”

She snickered and gave the cleric a shaky smile.

“Where would we even flee to? We had no idea what was coming, nor from where. It took its sweet time. Made us wait there, eyeballing those batteries and the exits. All sweat and trembling knees, the lot of us.”

“And yet, brave enough to hold your ground,” Wyll stated respectfully.

Astarion cocked a brow. “Brave is definitely not the term I’d choose…”

Nori threw them an unnerved glance from the side.

“Could we just let the girl talk for a moment?” The bard scolded, then looked back at Ley, gesturing for her to go on. When the quill resumed its frantic scratching, Gale heard her mumble a quiet ‘gonna go for gutsy…’ under her breath.

Ley smiled appreciatively, visibly struggling to keep her voice steady as she continued.

“So, it had been lurking inside those tanks. Surged through conduits that lead to somewhere outside, down one of the corridors leading deeper into the mountain. That’s where it approached us from. From the ceiling, to be precise. All that energy, accumulated into one, massive… Thing. At first, we just saw blinding light, felt hot air scorch our lungs from within as it came closer. A shapeless, wobbling form, squishing itself into the room like… I don’t know how to describe it…”

She wrung her hands, grasping for words.

“Like someone cut a piece off the sun. Churning and wavering and most definitely conscious, that much was obvious. Just by the way it hung there, twirling around those clasps, bobbing up and down as if pondering how best to introduce itself. Which it did, in a way. One of the others, probably Fryl, the guy was always too brazen for his own good, just laughed and stepped onto the podium. Reached out, as if to shake its hand.”

Ley snorted a laugh.

“A ridiculous picture, really. Now, there wasn’t much I could see, the others were just vague shapes against the brightness. What I could see, however, was that the Thing reached for him in return. One bright-white tendril snaked downward, like a big, flaming finger. Moments later I heard him scream and spit out curses. Smelled burnt flesh. Now, a sane person would have left it at that, but this idiot had to reach out a second time. Repeating the experiment, just to be sure, I suppose. They touched. And this time he didn’t scream.”

For a brief moment, Gale could swear he saw something bright flare up behind her eyes. A quick, fiery flicker, snuffed out again within the second.

Some trick of the light, he thought. A simple reflection. Or perhaps…

Perhaps someone was watching. Listening in.

“He was gone before he could even open his mouth. Just a cloud of ash, raining to the floor.”

Ley swallowed hard, absently running a hand over her chest. Up and down and up again, then drawing circles on her sternum in a dreadfully familiar manner.

“Things happened rather quickly after that, as you might imagine. There was screaming and shouting, people tripping over their feet. Tully pulled me with him. I couldn’t move, wasn’t able to tear my eyes from that Thing, hovering over what used to be Fryl. It seemed almost disappointed. Looking down on its own failed experiment.”

“I remember you saying it needed a host,” Gale said quietly, once again fighting the urge to reach out. He didn’t need to hear more to know what happened next.

“You’re right,” Ley responded, voice dripping with pretend cheerfulness. “That’s what it was searching for. Tried us on like a new pair of shoes, one after the other. But none of them fit. They all just burnt under its touch. By the time I regained control of my legs, Tully had successfully dragged me halfway up the tunnel. Behind us, the others were screaming their lungs out, stumbling over the stairs and each other. There were flashes of light, each followed by a sizzle and then there was one less voice to be heard.”

“Fuck…” Karlach shifted in her seat, brows knotting. “Fuck, fuck fuck…”

“Long story short,” Ley sighed exhaustedly. “We got outside. Were almost at the portal when the Thing hurled from the tunnel. Chasing down stragglers, all of them evaporating immediately. It was fast. Way too fast for us. Caught up within seconds. The only reason Tully and I made it so far was the handful of guys still standing, the ones behind us that it had to go through first. I don’t think there were many left when we reached the portal. Certainly none by the time Tully managed to fire it up. Could practically feel it breathing down my neck when he pushed me forward.”

Silence. Even the embers had seized their idle crackling.

“He didn’t follow.”

Ley looked at her hands.

“I heard metal creak and pistons burst. Then I fell through, forced to watch him from the other side. Swung his hammer like a madman. Ripped out gears, shattered the couplings. Tried to tear the whole thing apart before it could reach. Meanwhile, behind his back, everything turned white.”

“It got him then?” Nori asked timidly.

Ley nodded.

“It got him. But before it did, he managed to smash the console to bits. The surface was already flickering when the Thing came down upon him. Turned him to dust. Split second later, the portal went dark.”

“Wait, then how come it…” Wyll leaned in, frowning confusedly.

Ley looked up at him, smiling wryly. “Remember how I got here?”

Of course, they did. Rather difficult to forget the sight of that gap tearing open in the sky, spitting out both her ship and that horrid abomination pursuing it. That rift, created in hopes of ending the wild goose chase that had led her all the way to Toríl. And whilst doing so, skipping through dimensions like it was nothing, enabled to do so by a force neither related to the Weave, nor any other kind of magic known to this world.

“All it needed was my scent.”

She kneaded her hands again, a gesture Gale now understood was intrinsically tied to her wrestling the demons of her past.

“It didn’t care for the portal. It simply opened its own. Hit me like a lightning strike. Needless to say, that shoe fit.”

The sarcastic tone of her voice didn’t do anything to mask the dread straining her features. And again, those twin embers from earlier flared up in her eyes.

“Any idea as to why?” Gale asked, attentively observing her face.

“Oh, plenty of them,” she chuckled. “We’ve been speculating about that quite a bit, my brother and I. The one that made the most sense, at least to me, would be that there’s some genetic factor in play, inherently granting some level of control. Much like what you’ve already suggested the other day. Of course, that would mean that, at some point, we must’ve had access to magic. That there once were sorcerers amongst our people. They might have even created the Thing. Controlled it in some way, or tamed it. Perhaps that’s why it so desperately wanted a host. Who knows…”

She smiled, shrugging impartially.

“Those are merely speculations, of course. Besides, when I say ‘the shoe fit’, please don’t believe for a second that it was in any way an easy fit. It burnt pretty much everything in the process. I blacked out pretty quickly, fortunately - just remember a violent burst of pain and then nothing. But there were about four hundred people in the great hall, most of them with a pretty good view of what happened in the aftermath. And documenting. I’ve seen pictures of myself in the newspaper, curled up on that floor, reduced to a boiling heap of flesh. Which I thought was rather rude, to be perfectly honest.”

“No respect for privacy…” Nori tutted, shaking her head in a deprecatory manner. “Seems that’s just how it is with the press, no matter where you hail from.”

“And yet, for some miraculous reason, you’ve got away without any scar whatsoever,” Shadowheart cocked a brow. “How’s that possible?”

“Oh, never mind the lack of scars…” Ley laughed and made a throw-away gesture. “It’s a wonder I’ve got away at all. I’m relatively sure my insides had been molten to a clump at some point. But in its defence…”

Gale squirmed at the notion. That was a picture he would’ve very much preferred not to have in his head.

“… the Thing made a valiant effort to fix what it broke. As it always does. Well, as much as it’s able to. Back then, I’d like to think it was panicking a bit. Afraid it had broken me beyond repair. Which, in a way, it had. Tried to weld some of the more important bits back together, only to discover that didn’t necessarily improve the situation. So instead, it decided to hand a part of itself over to me, if that makes any sense. And, unconscious or not, I was able to make use of it. Took me a whooping two days to recover. You should have seen the doctor’s face when I just got up and left.”

The cleric snickered into her tea.

Gale leaned forward a little, trying to catch another glimpse of what was dancing in her eyes, which had him a tad unsettled by now. Ley gave a stifled chuckle, squinting back at him with mild irritation.

“Is it possible, perchance…” He cleared his throat. “That the current situation has for some reason roused its attention? That it’s… partaking in the conversation at the moment?”

“Oh, erm…”

Ley blushed, eyes nervously darting all over the floor.

“It’s awake, yes…?” She rubbed her neck, tension creeping into her shoulders. “I suppose I got a bit agitated here and there. So yes, it’s watching from the sidelines. Not for long, presumably. And not in a way that should give anyone reason to worry.”

“Why would it?” Nori quirked a brow, smiling amicably.

Ley’s expression was one of utter bewilderment.

“Because… because it could kill you?” she stammered, then snapped her fingers. “Like that?”

“Oh, I don’t think it will,” the halfling chuckled, smile growing even wider.

“How would you…” Ley shook her head, an unidentifiable sound tumbling from her lips. “Nori, this monster has a track record! I haven’t counted how many lives it’s taken, but let me tell you, it’s a lot. Not just Tully, my colleagues and the odd goblin, but many, many more. Back when I didn’t know how to keep it in check, when it would buck and thrash around if anyone just so much as poked my shoulder, you’ve no idea-“

“I believe I do,” Nori cut her off, voice soft and endlessly gentle. Then she cocked her head and grinned from one ear to the other. “Remember how you got here?”

Having her own question thrown back at her, Ley snorted a laugh, wringing her hands in helpless frustration. “I fell from the bloody sky. Of course, I remem-“

“When you were dangling from that horrible metal spike like a pinned-up butterfly?”

Ley’s face turned white as a sheet.

“Yes,” she said, the painful memory immediately taking the wind out of her sails. “I’d prefer not to, but I do.”

“When you woke up just to see that awfully suspicious bunch of strangers swagger in your direction?”

“Not suspicious, necessarily,” Ley murmured, blushing the faintest shade of pink. “Perhaps a bit intimidating. A bit. You being so many, me just being… me.”

“Well, evidently intimidating enough to make your little friend spring into action, weren’t we?” Nori continued ever so patiently, throwing Gale an impish wink over the fire.

He chuckled, smiling back at her. He knew where this was going.

“Well, it had to,” Ley scoffed. “Not sure I was even alive at that point, entirely possible it had to revive me before I could-“

“Before you could clap open those pretty green eyes of yours and decide that dragging yourself off that pole was the best course of action?”

“Yes, it most certainly was,” Ley stated in a final tone, frowning defiantly. “Only reasonable thing to do at the time.”

“Mhm…” Nori grumbled, sceptically quirking a brow. “And do you remember what that perfectly reasonable decision of yours resulted in?”

Ley sighed with exasperation. “It lashed out at you, I know, I know…”

“Which…” The halfling lifted a finger, wiggling it in Ley’s direction. “… for some reason, did not result in us being burnt to a crisp. Weird, huh?”

Wyll grinned. Karlach grinned even wider. Halsin hummed through his pipe, following their back and forth with rapt attention. After all, he hadn’t been present during any of this.

“Yes, well,” Ley replied hesitantly. “It may have made a little bit of progress along the way. Picked up some table manners. We’ve had six years to adjust, after all. Which doesn’t mean I’ve any intention to let bygones be bygones.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’re probably not in a forgiving mood,” Nori conceded with a thoughtful nod, then conjured that endlessly considerate smile back to her lips. “Even though I can’t help but feel like someone’s trying their best to make up for past transgressions.”

Upon hearing that last part, Ley’s face turned to stone.

Gale noticed her jaw clenching and, once again, saw that fiery glint in her eyes. However this time, it wasn’t the searing flare indicating the presence of the other.

This was blank, unrelenting hate.

“That means nothing,” she stated frostily, voice growing more frigid with every word spoken. “It can’t undo what it did. And no matter how hard it tries… If it tries… that still doesn’t make it any less dangerous. There are moments when I lose control and, when that happens, there’s no telling what it’ll do.”

Nori opened her mouth, her objections stifled by Ley’s swiftly raised hand.

“That’s the only reason I’m even pestering you with this nonsense. So you know what you’re in for. So you understand that once it takes over, you are very much not safe. Should that happen, you better get some distance between us. And fast. If I burn, it’ll bring me back. Has done so dozens of times, without fail. You, it will not.”

The halfling said nothing for a good, long moment. Just eyed her observantly, expression unreadable.

They all did.

Ley didn’t seem to care. She just glared back, all that previous anxiety, that notion of her crumbling under the weight of their collective gaze, now swept clean off her face. Traded for that steeliness he had seen only once before, the night she had so ardently defended the vampire. It was a bit unsettling, witnessing that side of her. That harsh contrast to her usual, carefree self. Something forcibly drilled into her by long years of hardship and facing impossible decisions.

Gale shuddered. To think, how close he had come to provoking that beast, the cause of all this mayhem. And had done so more than once.

“You know…” He said quietly, to which Ley turned around, features softening just the faintest bit. “I’d never go as far as disparaging the threat it could pose, should the situation take a turn for the worst. But if we are to see it as that uncontrollable, malevolent fiend you think it to be, then I’d like to point out that there were at least two occasions now, where it should have, by all means, ended me. You know the ones I speak of. The Orb in its hunger, attempting to dig its claws into…”

He cleared his throat, gaze flicking to the ground, her knees and hands, anywhere but her eyes.

“… what it most decidedly has no right to claim. And yet, much to my shame, that’s precisely what it did. Unleashed by a momentary lapse in concentration, as much as that pains me to admit.”

Somewhere in the background, Astarion hissed a snarky remark, which was quickly silenced by hushed rebuttals from several sides. Gale didn’t pay them any heed. He was entirely captivated by the fingers resting on the bench, mere inches parting them from his own.

“Now I’m not sure as to its reasoning. The Thing’s, that is…”

Cautiously, he lifted his gaze, hoping not to be met with that same unbearable coldness Noris’ questioning had provoked.

“… for not striking me down on the spot, despite being presented with an indisputably valid reason to do so. If I were to go on a whim here, I’d say it was trying to avoid incurring your wrath.”

To his endless relief, her face was filled with nothing but warmth. In fact, her cheeks were flushed the faintest shade of pink. Her ears were as well. She peered at him from lowered lids, eyes occasionally shying away and darting to the fire, sceptically quirking a brow.

“Much like on the day of your arrival, where it knew you wouldn’t look kindly on us getting incinerated.”

“Exactly my point,” Nori affirmed with a vigorous nod. “Honey, no one’s saying we should throw caution to the wind or anything. No need to ignore the risks. I’m sure we’re all perfectly aware they are real and tangible.”

She squinted over the fire, smiling as Ley’s frown began easing a little.

“Not sure if you noticed, but quite a few people in this troupe are guilty of having the odd alien bits stuck in some part of their bod-“

“Ew,” Astarion bared his fangs in repulsion. “Now that just sounds disgusting, dear.”

Lae’zel raised a brow at him, then turned her attention to the halfling, nodding austerely. “The majority of which will be gone by tomorrow, rest assured.”

Nori shrugged and grumbled indecisively.

“Aside from those of a more flammable nature,” Wyll clarified with some amusement.

“Think I lost count,” Astarion gave a defeated sigh. “How many of us are rigged to explode again?”

“Three, I think,” Shadowheart answered nonchalantly. “I hope.”

“Bomb squaaaaad…” Karlach whispered, throwing both Gale and Ley a wide, tooth-bearing grin, brows wiggling furiously.

Gale chuckled. Ley sighed in defeat and rubbed both hands over her face.

“You know, most people would agree that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Shadowheart quipped.

The tiefling glowered back at her, lips pouted. Then she straightened up, raising a finger as if suddenly remembering something important.

“Aside from the explodey bits, what happened afterwards?” She said, poking said finger in Ley’s direction. “Your folks help get you back on your feet?”

Ley looked at her, elbows propped up on her knees, chin resting on her hands.

“I had help, yes,” she replied quietly. “Family, mostly. A few friends that had the guts to stick around. Some of the colleagues that hadn’t been part of the expedition. Helped me through the first few weeks. Until things turned sour.”

“Let me guess,” Karlach tilted her head, eyes understanding and gentle. “Too much spontaneous combustion? Scorching hands by accident, pillows set ablaze with a sneeze, that kinda thing?”

Ley blinked, forcing a tired smile to her lips, her whole body signalling deep, profound exhaustion.

No wonder, after the day we just had, Gale thought, suddenly reminded there was indeed something to be done about the matter. With a soft chime, the Mage Hand appeared and flew toward the pit, one by one freeing all those half-forgotten pots and pans from the embers.

“I would think this more related to the looming threat of starvation still not being resolved,” Halsin argued, carefully cleaning his now-extinguished pipe.

Ley nodded. “That, and, of course, the portal being gone. Not to mention their most prominent problem-solver dead on the other side and the only one who miraculously survived the whole ordeal now harbouring the very thing that killed him. Turns out people don’t respond too well if you destroy their only hope of salvation.”

“That is what forced you to leave?” The druid frowned compassionately.

“Yeah, well…” Ley sighed, visibly struggling to keep a straight face.

Gale gave Karlach an inquiring nod, chin nudging toward the pots. Most of them probably could have done with a few more minutes, but perhaps this was a good moment to divert attention somewhere else. The tiefling grinned and got up, plucked the pan holding the pheasants from the pit, and carried it off.

“I suppose that’s just the way things go in such cases,” Ley continued quietly. “First there were questions, as was to be expected. Followed by doubts, which were also very much understandable. Then there were accusations. You know, the usual scapegoating. Then demands to fix the mess I’ve made. I tried, but there wasn’t much I could do. When nothing happened, demands turned into threats. Blackmailing, smear campaigns, that kind of nonsense. Eventually, someone concluded that going through my family was a clever way to get results.”

“Please tell me that someone didn’t get away unscorched,” Astarion raised a brow, canines gleaming in the firelight.

“He did not,” Ley affirmed. “None of them did. And neither did a lot of other people who had nothing to do with it. I snapped pretty hard that day. Willingly handed over the reins. And the results weren’t pretty. After that, I had the choice between leaving or risking open conflict. Thought I’d rather make a painful break than draw out the inevitable.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then chuckled and clasped her hands together.

“That’s it. That’s the whole story.”

Far from it, Gale thought. We barely scratched the surface.

As if having read his thoughts, Nori smirked and cocked a brow. “Somewhat doubt that’s true, but as for today, I’d say you’ve been tortured more than enough.”

With that, she hopped down from her seat and the others followed suit. Once again, the room filled with bustling commotion. Tables were moved and benches rearranged. Cabinets were scrounged for dinnerware and dishes removed from the embers, a fresh kettle of tea set up in their place.

Nori surrounded the pit, snatched Ley’s hands, and pulled her up.

“You know, for what it’s worth,” Gale heard her say. “I’m pretty glad you’re here. Even if the reason for it is nothing short of a nightmare. And besides, what are the chances? For you to end up in a place where people happen to know their way around magic?”

Ley gave a choked laugh, murmuring an answer that Gale couldn’t make out over all that noise in the background.

Then she popped up at his side, dragged forward by a beaming Nori who inquiringly glanced up at him.

“Should be possible, right?” she asked expectantly. “To find someone who might be able to, you know… Deal with the issue?”

“I don’t see a reason why it wouldn’t,” Gale replied, giving the most reassuring smile he could muster, even though he wasn’t sure that was necessarily the truth. And judging by the skeptical look on Ley’s face, neither was she. “It’s certainly worth a try.”