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 approach, leaning against the tree next to her. "Has traveling with me been what you expected?"

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

I glance down at her.

She's staring blankly at the ground, lost in thought. "It has been fulfilling, but a lot more chaotic than I expected." She blinks then shifts her gaze to her feet, murmuring. "A lot more grounding. I suppose."

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

"Yes. I suppose so." 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... unjustified? Merciless? I suppose I wasn't expecting the hells to follow me back home. 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 thing to expect. 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, it's to be expected." 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's water. She takes my hand and weaves her fingers through mine.

"Thank you for listening. I'll find a way to get past it." Her voice grows quiet. "I always do."

The moment settles as frog songs fill the air. The chill seems to have left me, thought the cold wet ground isn't doing us any favors.

I feel myself begin to drift off to sleep. "I should go," I mutter.

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

I'm wary to remain, my mind lingering on the murder of Alfira.

But maybe... only for a moment more.

"Do you really think we can stop the Rite?" Her voice is soft, sincere.

"Every problem has a solution." I close my eyes. "This one has a clear answer."

She falls still next to me. "And what is the answer?"

My fingers feel tight in her hand. I loosen them, running the question through my mind. "I'm prepared to kill Kagha," I say quietly. "If I have to."

I feel her eyes on me and I glance down. She looks as though she wants to speak, but chooses not to. Brow furrowed, she leans her head against my shoulder once more as we sit in silence.

I pull her hand into my lap as my mind begins to drift away.

I wake up, and my hands are wrapped around her neck. There is terror in her eyes as she claws at my arms. I try to let go, but my hands don't relent.

I can fix this...

I close my eyes and breathe, focusing my mind. They begin to slip loose, but the moment I feel it, my focus is gone and they grip tighter.

My eyes narrow. Be's struggling grows weaker. My arms are shaking with the strength of my grip. Her eyes roll back. Her pulse grows thin under my weight.

"Stop." My voice is strained and quiet.

A pathetic notion, that a butcher would want to be coddled.

All I can offer my friend is a quick snuffing out. It's what I was made for. It's all that I'm good for...

...I settle into a cold acceptance. My body relaxes and I stop fighting it.

A solution for every problem.

Bex begins to convulse until she slowly goes still.

My hands release. Silence falls.

I sit next to her, staring at her body.

I finally understand what it means to serve Bhaal and care only for Him.

But I care deeply for myself, and I do not regret doing so.

I touch the side of her face.

Perhaps this is a test.

I drop back into my body and double over, clutching my chest.

Not again.

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.

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

"Bex?" I say, commanding.

She's not here.

The camp.

I hop two stones at a time, making my way back.
Everything is exactly as it was. Her bedroll, still empty.
I grip my head and crouch down.

Why in the hells did the wretched thoughts seep into my dreams, of all things? Do I not have sanctuary from Bhaal's whispers for one gods-forsaken night?!
I take a sharp breath in, giving a long, slow exhale.
Focus. I am... unmoored.

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

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. My hand twitches. "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.