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 doesn't 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. To my surprise, Bex is not in her bedroll.

Footprints meander toward the willow. I follow them, finding her standing beneath the great tree. Her hand is pressed against the bark and she's looking up into the branches, as if she's waiting for them to tell her something.

A gentle rush of cold air comes off the river. The willow's leaves rustle and the hanging branches sway. The tree comes to life above us. I grip my elbows, chilled, but awake.

I don't know what noise I made to alert her, but she turns. "Oh. You're awake."

"I'm having trouble sleeping. What are you doing out here?" I rub my arms, fighting the chill.

"I want to get a head start on looking for clues. We might be able to return sooner than anticipated."

I dip my head with a soft smile. "Are you so keen to be rid of me?"

She laughs quietly. "It's not you, it's this place. It feels... off."

"Have you found anything?"

"No, nothing yet. I was just... reflecting. I guess I got distracted." She leans her back against the tree. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"Then let me help you look."

"Thank you. I've been racking my brain, trying to think of why they might have come here. I'm not even sure how long ago this meeting took place."

"This place does seem significant. Aside from how out of the way it is, what could have possibly warranted a meeting here?"

"There are some old ruins on top of that earthen mound." She leads me to a few carved pillars flanking the statue of a hawk. There appears to be a ceremonial offering bowl.

"It's a ritual site," I murmur. "For blood offerings."

"Blood offerings? How can you be so sure?"

"I..." I press my lips thin and get down on my knees before it. "I can't. But it feels familiar."

Bex watches as I pull a dagger from my boot. "What are you doing?"

"Testing the theory." The offering feels like second nature. I press the blade to my palm.

"Vash, don't!" Bex covers her face.

I pierce my palm and let blood drip into the vessel. Red light creeps through the grooves of the pillars. The hawk's beak opens and inside sits a note. Simple, clean. I take it, and Bex peeks from behind her hands.

May the Oak Father's power flow through the will of Kagha Oakbough.

May the Rite of Thorns herald a new age.

May these acts secure our rightful claim to the Emerald Grove.

Under Olodan's guidance,

Sanctioned by Archdruid Aelis, Circle of the Shadow Druids.

Bex glances at the note. "What in the Hells is this?"

"A letter of intent. Strange. They set themselves up for success and yet the ritual has stalled."

A soft scream rises from the hawk's beak and dark smoke emanates from the statue. I get to my feet and we take a step back.

The screaming falls silent. The glow fades.

We glance at each other.

"Please, Vash, let's leave this place."

I give her a soft nod and we head back to camp.

We sit together on a log beside the smoldering fire, studying the note.

"What gets me is the callousness of it all," she says. "All of the fear. The damnation of my kin. Without a second thought for the children."

I place a hand on her back.

"I witnessed many things when I was in Avernus. Horrors that I wouldn't wish on anyone. But seeing such cruelty in Faerûn feels far more... unjustified? Merciless? I suppose I wasn't expecting the Hells to follow me home. Faerûn is supposed to be safer. Quieter." She leans her head against my shoulder, watching the embers. "I'm not naïve, I know that's a foolish thing to expect."

"I understand," I say softly. "With everything you've been through, everything you're still going through, it's not unwarranted to want better." I lay my head on hers.

"Thank you, Vash." She weaves her fingers through mine.

Frog songs fill the air and I am warmed by her presence.

I feel myself begin to drift off to sleep. My thumb glides across the back of her hand. "...I should go."

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

"No? Quite the demand." I smile meekly and nestle next to her.

"Do you really think we can stop the Rite?" she asks.

"I have little doubt."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Words have failed. Arms will answer. It's the only way." I glance down at her. "Are you prepared for it?"

She pulls my hand to her chest, tucking my arm under hers, then nods softly.

I watch her a moment more. Her scent mingles with the smell of river water and smoke from the campfire.

I find something unexpected buried deep within me.

Yearning.

I close my eyes, trying to push it from my mind.

I wake with my hands tight around her neck. She claws at me, eyes wide. I try to let go but my hands don't relent. I close my eyes and focus. My breath slows, and as I settle, my fingers begin to slip loose. The moment I feel it, my focus is gone and they grip tighter.

Not this one... I'll give you anyone else.

Her eyes roll back. Her pulse grows thin under my weight. My arms shake with the strength of my grip.

Father, please.

Recognition rushes through me, followed by a breath of calm. I look at her once more.

"I'm sorry."

I stop fighting. Her body goes slack. My hands release. Silence falls.

This is what it means to serve Bhaal and care only for Him. I remember that now.

I snap bolt upright from my bedroll, covered in a cold sweat. My heart is racing. I run my palm across my face and grab the edge of my bedroll.

My bedroll.

Where the fuck is Bex?

I stagger to my feet and scan the camp. Astarion and Shadowheart are still asleep, but Bex remains missing.

My hands are shaking, but clean. There's no ache in my arms. I'm not lightheaded.

"Bex?" I say, as if commanding her to appear.

I bolt toward the willow, leaping two stones at a time. Our footsteps are still present from earlier, but all is quiet.

"Bex?!"

I run my hand through my hair and breathe.

For fuck's sake, do I have no sanctuary from Bhaal's whispers? Even for one gods-forsaken night?

The air stirs with crackling red sparks, conjuring a profane goblin in a suit and top hat. His sniveling voice coils into my ears. "Mi'lord?"

I shift back, studying him.

"Master, you finally called to me! By Bhaal's blood I knew you would remember me!"

"Is this another fucking dream? Who are you?"

His face falls. "Oh. Well I suppose it was too good to be true, wasn't it?" With a gnarled hand, he removes his hat and bows low. "Sceleritas Fel, your devoted butler."

"Butler? Where is Bex?"

"Gone," he says curtly. "But it's no matter."

"No matter?" I snatch his throat and lift him to eye level. "It matters a great deal!"

He gargles and grips my hand. "M-master..."

"Where is she?"

"I... don't... know..."

"Useless." I tighten my grip until the damned thing falls limp. I toss the body on the ground and run a hand over my face.

The red sparks crawl over Sceleritas's body. He climbs to his feet and retrieves his hat, setting it neatly back in place. He spots me and a wide grin spreads across his face. "Master! You're still in there! I'm so proud you've killed me again, I knew you wouldn't have changed one bit!"

He waves me off. "Given your demonstration of continued devotion to Lord Bhaal at the altar of Silvanus, I have a piece of your inheritance for you."

"I was not offering my blood to Bhaal."

"Ohohoho! It couldn't be helped!" He lowers his voice. "Bhaal's blood flows through you, Mi'lord. By offering yourself to Silvanus, you imbued the ritual site with the Lord of Murder's very essence."

"Are you telling me I'm a Bhaalspawn?"

He jumps and gives an excited clap. "Indeed I am, Master! And a very important one! Please, allow me."

I take a step back as Bhaal's power crackles once again. A folded shroud appears. I hold out my arms as it lands in my hands. I clutch the hem and drop the fabric. It is elegant, dark crimson, and the fabric is loose but heavy.

"What is it?"

"That, Mi'lord, is the Deathstalker's Mantle."

"Deathstalker. I'm a Deathstalker."

I lower my hands. The end of the cape pools at my feet. "How is that possible? I'm a Paladin. I am not exactly an ideal stalker. They're usually clerics."

"As you once were. You spent many years learning to become exactly what people needed the most. You are not a wolf in sheep's clothing, but a shepherd who herds the chattel to slaughter. It's who you were made to be."

"Made."

"Your role as a paladin is merely the next step in what Father has planned for you."

"And what is that?"

"To be his hand and bring forth a culling unlike any other." He smiles, and the air shifts. "Reclaim yourself and follow the path of conquest once more."

A red light shines above me. Something falls away in that moment and I become still.

I am witnessed. Father is near.

A dark power rises, and I bend the knee in Father's name.

"By His will, by my hand."