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It was strange for someone to trust Briar before their curse came into play.
Yet here Gale was, confessing his own affliction while still remaining a wizard. Then again, was it really so surprising when he made it clear he valued wizardry more than sorcery? Even with all his compliments, kindness, and fun stories, a part of them knew he’d never truly understand that part of them…unless, perhaps, their curse affected him as well.
It was a horrid, guilty thought.
They had the locket from Arabella’s parents, ready for when Gale would need it.
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Briar watched as Gale held a mirage of a familiar woman above his palm.
“That's the deity you wizards adore. Mystra, right?”
He flicked the spell away, whirling towards them.
“Oh! My, you startled me. I…I was miles away.”
“Care to tell me why you were conjuring an image of the goddess?”
“No special reason, really. I was just…practicing an incantation.”
Briar narrowed their eyes. He was a terrible liar.
“There's more to it than that,” they accused. “You were contemplating her in a way I can hardly fathom.”
“What can I say? She's... She's Mystra. I can't quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her, to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. No sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies: The Weave. Mystra is all magic. And as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation.”
Briar snorted, “How narrow-minded. Magic goes far, far beyond Mystra.”
“Pish posh. One might as well deny one's mother's womb as the cradle of life. You just don't understand. Magic is... my life. I've been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it. It's like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Is it the same for you?”
“Magic is like music. But while you need it written down, I can play by ear.”
“Fair enough, though in the end we're still playing the same composition. Perhaps I can show you what I mean by reaching into the Weave together.”
They considered it. It had been a long time since they'd practiced magic outside of combat and those horrible circus acts, let alone with someone their curse hadn't touched.
“By all means.”
“Then follow my lead.”
Gale moved beside them, balls of light sparking from his hands as he made large, circular gestures.
“Now you.”
Briar imitated the gesture with ease, though only the last light appeared. It felt familiar, like a kind word and kind touch at the same time. Warm and comfortable.
“Excellent,” Gale praised. “Now repeat after me.”
He uttered an incantation, which Briar easily repeated. The scent of rosewater lingered in the air, a sense of wellbeing washing over them. The sliver of Weave tasted sweet on their tongue, like a dollop of cream.
Gale met their gaze, smiling excitedly. Briar felt their heart race at the sight.
“Very good,” he said and a shiver went up their spine. “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.”
Harmony. Surely their magic was harmonious. It was the wonderfully chaotic part of them. When it was just Briar and their magic, they could even forget their curse.
Harmony was Briar. Harmony was finding home in themselves and their magic.
The ball of light transformed into soft waves that surrounded the pair. The sorcerer could sense Mystra, peering at the scene from her plane.
It was a safe feeling, like they were a small bird held in a gentle cupped hand.
It was exhilarating, like when they'd first cast a spell as a child.
“You did it,” Gale laughed and Briar couldn't stop smiling if they tried. “You're channeling the Weave. How does it feel?”
“Effortless,” they breathed. “You're a wonderful teacher.”
“I know.”
Gale was smiling at them as they felt the Weave connect the two of them. It was intimate, a moment they were sure to treasure.
When was the last time they'd been intimate without fear?
Briar held on to it, wondering what it would be like to hold his hand. It sounded nice. Walking while holding hands seemed so tame a wonder for someone from the circus, but it was something they'd yet to experience but had seen many circus goers do.
Gale’s smile dropped, and their heart sank as he backed away.
“I…I didn't think…” he stammered. Embarrassment. Trepidation. Elation! “Sorry, I wasn't expecting…But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome.”
The Weave evaporated, the connection lost, and the night suddenly felt cold and lonesome. Briar frowned, unsure which of them did it.
“There it goes,” Gale sighed. “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining. Good night. I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you.”
As Gale wandered away, Briar couldn't help but wonder why he seemed so…wary.
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Briar confronted Gale in the morning, demanding to know what he'd thought of the moment.
“Oh, I was surprised. But pleasantly so, just like I said. Amid the madness that has befallen us, it seems almost out of place to think of a romantic walk.” Romantic? Is walking while holding hands romantic? “And yet, now more than ever, it's important to recall what makes us human.”
The tiefling raised a brow.
“Well, you know what I mean. A stolen glance, that sudden heartbeat... Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms. They promise things to come.”
“I never realized it was so easy to cast magic,” Briar said, desperate to change the subject. They'd think of the implications of his words later.
“I assure you it is not. Don't get me wrong, you did well! The somatic component, the verbal component, even the focus on the inner self that invites Mystra in. But I was still your conduit. To perform such a feat alone requires much and arduous study. Of course, as a sorcerer, these talents come to you quite naturally. I do hope you cherish that gift.”
“I try. It's hard sometimes, but I always try.”
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Briar was ready when Gale needed the locket, handing it to him quickly.
They watched in fascination as he pressed it to his glowing tattoo, light bursting from him as the locket disappeared.
It was beautiful.
As Gale described his condition, they wondered how far his trust went. They knew there were things he wasn't telling them, but it felt like he was more open than them.
Briar never thought they'd meet someone who trusted them so much.
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“You know what I find odd?” Gale asked Briar. “Everyone here is a sorcerer but me. Don't get me wrong, it's strange enough that our fellow companions have been spontaneously turning into sorcerers, but I wonder why I've not been affected by whatever caused this.”
Briar clenched their fists, bundles of their robe caught in their hands.
Of all people to notice, it just had to be Gale. Gods, they were fucked. They were so fucked.
“Briar?” a concerned yet distant voice asked. “Are you alright?”
They looked back up at the man. Who was he again? Someone important. He…
“Try to match my breathing, okay?”
They could do that. They were good at breathing. Sure it was a little hard right now, but it was so much easier to do with guidance.
Just like magic.
Oh. That's who he was.
“Gale,” they gasped, desperately trying to to blink away their tears.
“I'm here,” he assured them.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“It's not your fault–”
“YES IT IS!” they screamed. “ALL OF IT! ALL BECAUSE OF MY STUPID CURSE!”
“Briar, stop! You're hurting yourself!”
They froze, looking down at their bleeding palms.
“I…”
“Would it help to talk about it? Or do you need some space?”
“I should've told all of you about it from the start,” they whispered.
“You don't have to if you're not up to it.”
“No, I do. You deserve the truth.” They took a deep breath. “Ever since I discovered my magic, I've had this curse. All I grow close to become wild magic sorcerers like me, losing most of their skills in the process.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?! You just found out I have a curse that's affected almost everyone, and that's all you have to say?!”
“We all have something. Shadowheart’s a Sharran, Astarion’s a vampire spawn, Wyll made a shady deal with a devil, Karlach burns everything she touches, and I have an orb that consumes magic. It wouldn't surprise me if even Lae’zel had something. Your curse is just another thing. If anything, it's helped me learn to appreciate sorcery more.”
Tears were running down Briar’s face. They hadn't thought about it like that. They'd merely thought their curse was the most pressing issue since it affected everyone.
“Oh,” Gale gasped as wild magic seeped into his very being.
“I'm sorry–!”
“Can I give you a hug?”
“...What?”
“An embrace? You look like you need one.”
“S-Sure.”
Gale held the tiefling close as they quietly sobbed, rubbing comforting circles on their back. They stayed like that for a while.
“I think you should tell the others,” Gale said. Briar froze.
“They'll hate me for it.”
“They won't. They're good, kind even.”
“Can you tell them for me? I don't think I can face them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please.”
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Briar’s companions were oddly touched when informed of their curse. Karlach was sentimental over the power of their friendship, Wyll commented how useful it was, Astarion flippantly lied and said he'd guessed it, and Lae'zel argued it was a blessing more than a curse.
Even Shadowheart took the news well. She said her faith was not measured by her abilities, and they'd helped her see that.
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Gale pressed the gloves to his tattoo, glowing as they vanished.
His condition was worsening. They didn't help as much as the locket.
Briar couldn't do anything though. They were undercover in the goblin camp. They had leaders to deal with, people to rescue.
They only hoped he'd find a solution before it was too late.
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Briar couldn't help but think Gale could be a jester as he described how he'd spend time with his tressym the way one would describe spending time with a dear friend or lover.
Tara sounded like a lovely lady, whom Briar very much wanted to meet.
They decided to tease him a bit, which they supposed was technically flirting. It was fun flirting with Gale, now that they knew they liked him.
Once again, he was taken aback.
Oh well. Surely there were other things to do at a party than talking to Gale, right?
…Besides dodging Astarion and Lae’zel’s advances…or getting teased by Shadowheart for their conversation with Gale…or checking in on Wyll…or discussing Karlach’s social issues in Avernus…
As Briar crawled into their bedroll that night, they wondered where Gale could take them in the Weave…or where they could take him…
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Briar gave Gale a staff…but it had little to no effect.
And then Gale came forward with the truth. They could hardly believe it. He was a lover to Mystra.
No wonder he kept rejecting their advances, even before they were purposefully flirting…
Briar had to know everything.
Gale told the story of a man who tried to usurp Mystra, shattering and scattering magic until the goddess’s return.
Then Gale found a lost part of the Weave, a book, hoping to prove his worth to Mystra by returning it to her.
He knelt down, asking Briar to place their hand over his heart. To see for themselves.
It was dark. A bound then opened book. No pages. A swirling mass of the blackest Weave instead.
It pounced on them, its teeth and claws unstoppable as it tore its way into their own magic, into their very being, starving for any and all magic.
Briar's eyes flew open, staring down at Gale, light pouring from his chest.
“How are you still alive?” they whispered.
“Thankfully, the moment I absorbed the fragment wasn't enought to kill me outright. It was only the beginning.” No longer glowing, Gale stood. “This Netherese blight…this orb , for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as I absorb traces of the Weave from potent enough sources, it remains quiet. Were it ever to destabilize, however…”
“You will die.”
“Rather worse, actually. I will erupt. I don't know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my study of Netherese magic, I'd say even a fragment as small as the one I carry…It’d blevel a city the size of Waterdeep.”
“You thrice-damned rotten bastard!” Lae’zel snarled. “You've been the greatest threat to our lives all this time!”
“Lae’zel!” Briar snapped. “Enough!”
“I swear to you I wasn't. But I've no choice but to admit it now. Perhaps it would be best if I leave and put as much distance between us as I can before the orb erupts.”
“Is there nothing we can do?” Briar asked. “Surely there's another solution besides leaving you to die alone.”
“We might chance upon a king’s collection of magical artifacts. We might cross paths with a miracle round the bend. Then again…we might not.” Gale sighed. “All of this…It must feel like a betrayal. Say the word, and well part ways.”
Briar grabbed his hands, staring intensely into his eyes.
“I care too much about you to abandon you now, Gale. We travel on together…or not at all.”
Gale’s cheeks reddened as he broke into a grin.
“That is…a great relief. Oh, a great relief indeed! You truly are a soul that steels my own. From all my new-rallied heart I thank you.” They released his hands as he addressed the others, “I thank you all. I understand if you stand against me. I'm humbled if you stand with me. Either way, I will do my best not to let you down. I stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall I. I'll fight, I'll resist…as long as I can. Now, even I am tired of the sound of my own voice. Let's us venture forth.”
As Gale led the group ahead, Briar couldn't help but feel angry at the goddess who left him in such a state.
And yet, how could they ever compare to Mystra?
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As the group rode the elevator out of the Underdark, Briar couldn't help but wonder what the land’s supposed curse was.
Was it like their own?
Was it worse?