Content Warning: Graphic Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Sexual Themes (Dream / Psychological), Sexual Violence (Implied / Dream Sequence), Choking / Asphyxiation, Intrusive Violent Thoughts, Psychological Horror, Religious Trauma / Cult Indoctrination, Mind Control / Loss of Agency, Violence, Death (Implied), Gore (Referenced, Not Descriptive), Manipulation and Coercion, Nightmares / Disturbing Dreams

I lie in my bedroll; the night is long and quiet. Despite my efforts to settle, I feel my head swimming once again. Every night is restless for me. It seems Bhaal does not wish for me to get a decent night's sleep.

I run my hand across my face, and with a heavy sigh, I get up. Maybe a walk will help quiet the voices.

Astarion and Shadowheart are neatly tucked in, sleeping next to the smoldering embers of the campfire, but to my surprise, Bex is nowhere to be seen.

When did she leave? I never heard her get up.

Footprints meander toward the willow. I follow them, finding her standing beneath the great tree. She's in her camp clothes, looking up into the branches, as if she's waiting for them to tell her something.

A breath of cold air comes off the river, rustling the leaves, letting the hanging branches sway. The tree comes to life above us.

I grip my elbows, chilled, and feeling more awake than I was before. I don't know what noise I made to alert her, but she turns and sees me approach. "Oh! I didn't realize you would be awake."

"I'm having trouble sleeping. What are you doing out here?" I say, rubbing my arms.

She runs her hand across the bark of the tree before closing her fist. "I want to get a head start on looking for clues. We might be able to return sooner than anticipated."

I give her a subtle side-eye. "Are you so keen to be rid of me?"

She laughs quietly. "It's not you, it's this place. It feels off. I can't sense it in the weave, but I feel it in my bones."

"Psychosomatic, maybe? You can't believe everything I say." A cheeky grin plays across my face.

She snorts, shoving me. "My feelings are my own; don't try to brush them aside so easily."

We share a smile, and I can't help but feel a pang of serenity. "Have you found anything?"

"No, nothing yet. I was just... reflecting. I guess I got distracted." She places her hand on her chest before turning and leaning her back against the trunk of the tree. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"Like what?"

"Like everything." she says with a quiet laugh. "I don't mean to be so vague, but I genuinely couldn't pick a trouble loud enough to stand out over the rest."

I move next to her, pressing my back against the tree as well. "Has traveling with me been what you expected?"

She subtly shakes her head. "Honestly, no."

I glance down at her. Her tail sways and she continues. "It has been fulfilling, but a lot more chaotic than I expected." She shifts her gaze to her feet and murmurs. "A lot more grounding. I suppose."

I turn toward her, leaning my shoulder against the tree. "Grounding is good, though, isn't it?"

"Y-yes. I think so. It's enlightening to say the least." She straightens her lips, as if she were holding something back.

"What is it?" I say, gently.

"I saw many things when I was in Avernus. Horrors that I wouldn't wish upon another soul. I was surrounded by death, and suffering." She drags her toe across the wet dirt beneath her. "But there's something about seeing death here, in Faerûn, that feels far more..." She searches her mind for the word. "...unjustified? Merciless? Like those aspects of hell don't belong here. Faerûn is supposed to be safer. Quieter." She slides her back down the tree and sits with her knees to her chest. "I'm not naïve, I know that’s a foolish notion. I just wanted to say it. Hear the words out loud, maybe soothe the feeling in my chest."

I sit next to her, and she leans her head on my shoulder. "I understand." I murmur. "With everything you've been through, everything you're still going through, I'd be surprised if you didn't feel that way." I lay my head on hers.

My heart settles, feeling her warmth next to me. Her scent mingling with the fresh smell of the river. She takes my hand and weaves her fingers through mine.

The lingering serenity begins to wane. Something else takes its place. Fear. It begins to smother my mind. The presence of Bhaal grows stronger on this night. I know, despite my desires, his will is stronger than mine. Whatever is to come, I can do nothing to stop it.

The tranquil sound of the river around us is drowned out by the thunderous sound of my own heartbeat.

"I should go," I mutter.

Bex grips my hand a little tighter. "No. Stay with me a little longer."

I'm wary to remain, but maybe... only for a moment more.

"So, how have I been doing?" Her voice is soft, sincere.

I have a one-liner in the barrel. Something-something, all you want is validation.

My mind begins to drift away.

After what only seems like a moment, I feel her hand slip out of mine as she gets up.

I barely open my eyes, my lids heavy and uncooperative. “Great conversation. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” My voice is labored and groggy.

I hear her chuckle as she rests my head against the trunk of the tree. I fully intend to go back to my bedroll, but my body refuses to rise. Perhaps it's for the best.

The night is quiet once again. I assume Bex left for camp without me, but then I feel a soft, warm weight settling in my lap.

She giggles as I open my eyes, seeing her looking at me expectantly. She has effortlessly commanded my attention. I give her a flirtatious smile as I rub my eyes back into focus.

Bex curls her fingers around the back of my neck and leans in. I feel her breath against my mouth as she hesitates. I dare to run my fingers through her soft curls. Our eyes meet, and she leans closer. With another brief hesitation, she presses her lips to mine. It sends a tremor through me. I sigh and take her in, softly dragging my fingers up the ridges of her spine.

Is this really happening? Why? What did I do to warrant this?

I want to know so I can keep doing it.

Her pulse races with guiltless pleasure as her fingers drift across my chest. I pull off my tunic and quickly toss it aside. She leans down, giving my collarbone a gentle kiss before dragging her teeth against my skin. "I just want to bite you." Her tail lashes with excitement.

I laugh softly and the rest of our clothes are quickly discarded. Her breasts are slight and glow with a soft pink tint. Cut them off. Feed them to her. My palms cup them, and I lean forward, nibbling and sucking.

A soft moan escapes her.

I want her to make that sound again.

She presses herself against me, and I finally run my fingers up her thighs before gripping her hips, pulling her onto me.

Gods, she feels like velvet.

Her body's rhythm leads us. She's orchestrating our shared reverie, and I savor the harmony.

I hold her close to me and roll her over. She lays neatly in a bed of leaves below the willow. I take a moment to savor the sight of her beneath me. Her skin glistens in the glow of the night sky.

Something shifts within me; I need to become her exaltation.

I grip her hair as sensual whimpers carry forth from her lips. Her thighs tighten around my waist as she reaches the crescendo of her desire. She cries my name, her voice echoing across the river.

My fingers drag across her neck to find her quivering pulse. My palm presses.

Her throat swallows reflexively. A tapping on my shoulder. Her body writhes.

Her hand grabs for my face. I pin it down. Her other hand pushes me weakly.

My arm shakes from the strength of my grip.

Her eyes roll back. Her pulse thins under my weight. I become undone.

I will plant my seed in your corpsed womb.

Consecrate your body like a hallowed grave.

Venerate you in Bhaal's name.

"I wish you could live long enough to appreciate this."

No!

I am dropped back into my body and I double over, clutching my chest. My heart is pounding in my ears as I dry heave in the mud.

Not again.

Air. I need air.

I stagger to my feet, and fall against the willow's trunk, chest heaving.

The moons hang high, and toads chirp along the riverbank. The tranquility persists as a cruel mockery of my disorientation.

Bex is nowhere to be seen. Is she still alive? Did I tear her apart?

I look at my shaking hands. Clean.

It doesn't feel like I've been doing anything except sleeping for the past few hours. No ache in my arms, no sensation of fighting through a struggling victim. It doesn't even feel like I've had sex.

Searching the ground, circling the tree. There is no sign of her.

"Bex?"

My tone is urgent, as if commanding her to appear.

She's not here.

The camp. I hop two stones at a time, making my way back.

Everything is exactly as I left it. Her bedroll is still empty.

I grip my head to try to contain my mania.

Why in the hells did the wretched thoughts have to permeate my dreams of all things? Do I have no sanctuary from Bhaal's whispers? Even for one gods-forsaken night?!

I take a sharp breath in through my nose, giving an even longer exhale.

Focus. I need to collect myself. I am unmoored.

I return to the willow, scanning the path, as if looking twice will somehow manifest her.

...It was a pathetic notion. That a butcher would beg to be coddled.

I was so undeserving of her touch, but now it's all I desire.

The only gift I could offer in return is a quick snuffing out.

It's all I'm good for.

It's all I'm...

...my body settles into a cold acceptance.

This is the nature of who I am and fighting it won't keep me from my killing fate.

By Bhaal's will, I live to serve and care only for Him.

But I've already broken that tenet. I care deeply for myself, and I do not regret doing so.

How long have I been falling?

Was I punished for my heresy?

Is that why I'm here now?

The sharp blades of the Weave cut at me like I've never felt before, and I hear a sniveling voice coiling into my ears from behind.

"Mi'lord?"

I turn swiftly to find some sort of profane goblin in a suit and top hat. He jumps as I turn my eyes to him. "Mi'lord!" He pulls off his hat, genuflecting with adoration. "I've been searching the whole of the Sword Coast to find you!"

I stare at him, not sure how to process his theatrics. "Who… are you?" I swiftly look around. "Is this another dream?" I can't trust my own mind.

His giddy laughter is sharp and grating. "This is no dream, young master! I've come to aid you." He bows deeply. "Sceleritas Fel, your most loyal butler!"

The silence between us unnerves the creature, and he begins to gibber, animated in his reverence. "The sacrifice of the bard was a master class in ritualistic murder! It's what called me to you. Father was so proud! Oh, Master, I'm so happy to have found you!"

My hair stands on end at the mention of her. "You know about Alfira? Can you tell me what happened that night? Why did I black out? Why did Bhaal demand I sacrifice her?"

He jumps with delight, holding his hands out to me. "Instinct happened! Bhaal did not predestine her as a victim, mi'lord, you marked her yourself. A clever choice, and your lure was flawless. Even in your ruined state you continue to behave with the decorum befitting your station."

His dark, beady eyes watch me like a proud uncle, though his oily grin reeks of deception. I can't get a handle on what he might be lying about. "I didn't mark her though. The voice that beckoned her to join wasn't mine."

He scoffs, "A voice inside your own head? Not yours? Young Master, you have always needed... Extra care. I am loath to consider what lapses you have suffered without my guiding hand."

"Lapses." I feel a pang of desperation. "Can you help me control them? I can't keep stumbling around slaughtering allies in my sleep. One whiff of blood could break their faith in me. I need these people if I am to survive in my current state."

Sceleritas grins wide, an air of mischief about him. "It is in knowing yourself that you can gain the control you seek."

With a sweeping gesture of his gnarled fingers, he summons forth an object that manifests in the space in front of me.

I reach out and grasp a neatly folded garment. An invisibility cape. Mine. It even smells the way I remember. "The Deathstalker Mantle." My eyes grow wide. "I was a Deathstalker." A rush of pride surges through me to be counted among Bhaal's most elite assassins—a lofty title. I look down at my light armor: ominous, dark, and whisper-quiet. I would be a ghost on a night hunt, if I left behind my precious greatsword and sabatons behind.

He postures, his voice warbling with conviction. "As a Deathstalker, you are sworn to make a sacrifice in His name every tenday, or the killing urge will overwhelm you. If you honor your lord, you will remain in control."

I cling to the cape and shake my head. "I don't understand. Deathstalkers are usually clerics, why am I a paladin?"

He grins, approving of my questions. "You are a paladin because you are suited for such an honor. It is who you were made to be."

"Made?" The word lingers, and suddenly everything clicks into place. Bhaal's favor, the unyielding urge to kill, and the Deathstalker's pride. It's almost like I knew it all along. "I'm a Bhaalspawn."

He jumps and squeals, clasping his hands with delight. "I knew master would catch on! You were always such a clever boy!" He turns wistful as he recalls my younger days. "So hungry for knowledge, curious to a fault. Such an easy boy to teach."

My skin crawls as he speaks of my past. Remnants of that child have survived the ruins of my mind, but only to guide me back to The Father. It seems my devotion is what anchors my tempestuous soul above all.

He places a hand on his chest in veneration. The familiar acrid magic rushes through me like probing fingers and fills me with desire and dread. My body shudders with the pull of sensations. "Reclaim yourself, mi'lord. Follow the path of Conquest once again."

His words break open a prescient awakening within me. At last, my hungry heart has purpose. My Oath, in the name of my Father, is Conquest. This is who I am—who I was always meant to be. In a flash, the light of my Oath appears above me. I feel time slow, and the night grows still, hushed by the presence of Bhaal. I bend the knee and reach for my inevitable fate.

For every seed Chauntea sows in life's fertile soil, I am the pestilence that blights her fields.

I am The Reaper who tallies the dead, triumphant.

Where I cast my judgement, the Damned will fall.

My name is the hymnal of fear that foments devotion.

My conquest will be unrelenting, until the world falls silent at my feet.

I swear this Oath to Lord Bhaal.

By His will, by my hand.