The morning sun has barely touched the horizon. I stir. My body hums with the power of my oath. My hand clutches the Deathstalker Mantle's edge. Having it brings me comfort. It is a breadcrumb trail for my sanity.

I sit up and stretch, feeling my muscles sigh with relief. Across the firepit, my companions sleep blissfully.

I should try to find Bex's body before they wake.

Something catches my eye. I focus on her bedroll. Blonde curls.

My stomach lurches and I stumble over to her, my knees hitting the ground by her side.

"Father," I murmur.

What happened last night? Bhaal could have easily let me kill her, and yet here she lies. I reach out, but hesitate before gently brushing aside a loose curl. Something in my chest wrenches and my shoulders grow tight.

Does this yearning have a place within the tenets of my oath?

I settle on the riverbank, blade in hand, slowly dragging a whetstone across its iced steel. It shimmers with a faint blue light. This is not Bhaal's power. It's something else. It smells vaguely of sulfur and rings cleanly with every pass of the stone.

TENTATOR · TYRANNUS · TOTALITAS

My finger runs over the engraving in the hilt.

A memory stirs. My breath becomes choked from the cold as a blizzard buries me knee deep in snow. I trudge across an endless tundra, one hand blocking my eyes from the wind. The furs of my cloak are not enough to keep me warm. I see the castle in the distance, but my body aches from the journey. I'm not going to make it.

Someone taps my shoulder. Astarion.

I shift aside for him. "Good morning."

He sits beside me, looking out over the river. I wait for a snide remark or sarcastic comment. I get neither. He simply puts his hand over mine. It feels comforting.

I draw a breath, hesitant. "Can I ask you something?"

He only gives me a passing glance. "I can't promise I'll have an answer."

"What did you see, when you touched my mind?"

His fingers tighten around mine for the briefest moment. "You've every right to be curious, but I'd rather you hadn't asked." He crosses his leg and his foot begins to shake. "Corpses. Piles of them."

A subtle breeze brushes past us.

"I'm sorry."

He snorts. "Sorry for what? For violent thoughts? Or violent actions?" He grows quiet. "Just don't turn it on me again, if it's all the same to you."

"I'm working on it."

He leans into me, putting his head on my shoulder. "I know."

I glance down at him. The scent of bergamot and brandy seeps into me, with a hint of cadaver. I feel a chill rush through me and my shoulders tense. I want Astarion. But what is the cost of wanting? I place my hand on his knee and press my lips to the top of his head.

His body softens next to mine.

A murmur rises behind us as Bex and Shadowheart wake.

"It had to end, didn't it?" he says with a sigh. He gives me a gentle squeeze, then rises, heading into the forest. I watch him leave. He glances back before disappearing into the trees.

I rise and approach the firepit, laying down a few logs to reignite the embers. I prepare a modest breakfast and hand out bowls of oatmeal while Bex and Shadowheart converse.

"In the light, it doesn't matter if you think you're well hidden. If you can see them, they can see you. However, shadow creates the perfect shroud.

Light is the enemy. Even reflected light can cling to you and expose your position. It’s a death sentence if you don’t understand its nature. It is in darkness where we will vanquish our foes."

Bex blows on a spoonful of oatmeal. "I would never have thought of that. You must have some interesting stories regarding shadow strategies." She takes a bite.

Shadowheart smiles. "I can dredge up a few memories, but those are stories for another day."

Astarion walks back into camp looking satiated.

"What did you find?" I ask.

He sighs deeply. "A bear. Gods, it was good. Although it may have left me a little kiss I won't soon forget." He rolls up his sleeve to show a bite on his upper arm. Mostly healed.

"Did you take one of our healing potions for that?"

"Please. Drinking blood has modest healing properties for me. Afford me the satisfaction of being a little reckless, love, it keeps life exciting."

"Good to know."

Shadowheart sets her bowl down and gets to her feet. "Are we ready to look for clues?"

I fall silent, fidgeting with my spoon.

Bex looks at me, her brow tightening. "No, that won't be necessary. We found what we needed last night."

"Oh. What did you find?"

"A note," I mutter. I set down my bowl and pull it from my coat, handing it to her.

As she takes it, her fingers twitch. "Shadow magic. It's unmistakable." She reads it. "They were sanctioning their ritual, and yet it's still delayed. Did you find this in an altar?"

"We did."

"Then they do not have Silvanus' favor. What's worse is you removed it from the ritual site. The odds of the ritual succeeding now are close to nothing if they can't get an elder to assist."

"And who knows how long that might take. There might be one on their way right now."

Bex takes her last bite of oatmeal and stands. "Then we need to hurry back and inform the rebels. The caravan is only safe for as long as they remain underpowered. She still needs to be stopped."

We pack quickly and head up the path to the blighted village. Bex and I seem to have lost track of Shadowheart and Astarion as we enjoy the peace of the morning.

There is a commotion coming from a crumbling windmill just up the hill. The windmill spins wildly and goblins gather around it, whooping and hollering.

As we crest the hill, Bex gasps sharply and blows past me.

"Bex." I grab her arm.

She stops and looks at my hand. "Excuse me. Let go of me." She tries to wrench free.

"You cannot get involved. It's nothing to do with us."

"Don't you see the man strapped to the blade?"

A deep gnome is roped to the windmill blade as it spins. "Unfortunate."

She wrenches free and storms off.

"Bex!"

A goblin swaggers up to her. "Who's this? A traveler come pokin' about? Or do you want a ride too?"

"Let that man go!"

He leans into her. "You think you can boss me around? You're a bit outnumbered."

A few of the goblins jeer.

She glances at me. I stand with my head lowered, flexing my fingers before tucking my hands into my pockets.

She focuses on the goblin, jaw tight. "This isn't right, and I won't let it stand."

I breathe.

The goblin shrugs. "If that's the way you want it." He draws his axe, blade gleaming in the light.

She takes a step back and pulls her daggers.

I advance on them.

He charges.

I push her out of the way. She tumbles down a short flight of stone steps, landing hard in the dirt. I snatch the axe shaft and break my dagger through his wrist. His hand breaks free and he falls back, clutching his forearm, eyes wide.

The horde begins to rally. A goblin nocks her bow. "Fezzerk!"

A worg charges, snapping at my shin. I beat it in the face with the butt of the axe. Fezzerk's severed hand remains clenched around the hilt.

A couple goblins arm themselves and charge.

I haul the worg up by the scruff, its front legs stiff in the air. I draw the axe blade across its neck. The head breaks free and I toss it at their feet.

They stop, a few tripping over the head.

Bex lifts herself onto her elbows, watching in silence.

I raise my palm with the symbol of the Absolute.

The horde grows quiet.

"Stand down."

A few of the goblins go wide-eyed, and I hear a murmur cross over them.

Fezzerk flinches and stammers. "I-I'm sorry! We didn't know you was a True Soul!" He groans.

The goblins step back, chattering and gawking.

"Stop this fucking windmill. What in the Hells is wrong with you?!"

Fezzerk shifts backward. "Y-you heard the man! Stop the mill!"

A goblin takes a subtle step forward. "But Fezzerk-"

"Stop the damned mill!"

Two goblins climb through the crumbling walls of the mill and pull a lever. The blades begin to slow.

"The gnome is mine. Get back to your duties."

He stammers, "B-But the gnome is..."

"I SAID GO!"

The goblins scatter like rats. Fezzerk trails behind.

I drag my hair between my horns and turn back to Bex.

She gets to her feet, dusting herself off.

I approach her. "What right did you have dragging me into this?"

"What right?! You were really going to stand by and do nothing? A man was being tortured. They could have killed him!"

"And what if they killed you instead? Would that have saved him? Or would there be two bodies instead of one?"

She stares at me and shifts her footing.

"I have little interest in engaging with every gods-damned tragedy in Faerûn if it's going to put you at risk."

"Me?"

"There are certain things that are worth the risk. This?" I gesture toward the man on the blade. "Is not one of them."

"Is that what you truly think?"

"It is."

"I see." Her lips go tight, and she glances at the carnage behind me. "I see very well."

She storms down the trail toward the redoubt.

"Bex, wait."

She doesn't look back.

"Bex!"

She disappears down the path as Shadowheart and Astarion approach.

"Fuck."

Astarion steps up beside me. He takes Fezzerk's axe from me and tries to shake Fezzerk's hand free, to no avail. "I see you've graduated from toes to hands. I'm proud of you."

A short breath escapes me.

"So, Bex is gone. Did you forget how terrifying you are?"

"She wasn't frightened."

Astarion rolls his eyes and finally pries the hand free.

Shadowheart walks past us toward the windmill. "Come. Let's get the poor man down."

The blade he is tied to has stopped at the top. He's unconscious... or fucking dead already.

"Why are we bothering with this man?" Astarion sighs.

I give him a quick glance. "Let me see if I can shift the gears to bring the blade down." I climb into the windmill, pulling the wooden pegs to spin the gear shaft.

"Stop!" Shadowheart shouts.

I step back outside to find the man just out of reach.

Astarion blinks, then smirks at me. "On your knees, darling."

"What?"

"You heard me." He folds his arms and waits.

Shadowheart is pretending to look elsewhere.

I get to my knees and he walks behind me, climbing onto my shoulders.

"Tally ho and whatnot," he says, patting my head.

"Ah, I see." I stand and carry him over to the gnome. He's able to cut him free, carefully guiding him down to my arms. Astarion slides off my shoulders.

I lay the gnome flat on his back and try to rouse him.

He's a bald man with the kind of face that somehow makes him look both wily and reserved. Strange to see a deep gnome on the surface.

I check his pulse. He's alive.

Shadowheart presses a hand to his forehead and a pulse of blue light passes through her to him.

His eyes snap open and he coughs violently, clutching his head. "Ugh!" He blinks and runs a hand over his face. "What happened? Where are those damned goblins?"

"Gone. You're safe now," I say.

"What?" He looks around and sees the abandoned mill, then his eyes land on the decapitated worg and he recoils. "Heavens." He finally turns back to us. "I suppose you'll be wanting payment for the valiant rescue?"

Astarion leans over us. "Yes, we would. I'm exhausted after fighting off a horde of goblins for you. It's only fair."

"Right. No good deed and all that bunk... you can have my pack." He tries to get to his feet but falls back with a grunt, gripping his head. "Once I find it." He lies back down, gripping the dirt. "Once everything stops spinning."

I purse my lips and tap my thumbs together, still crouched by his side. My tail drags along the dirt as I glance around. "So. What are you doing on the surface?"

He stares up at me. "Don't you sound foolish. I'll have you know I hail from Baldur's Gate."

I slowly stand. "Right. Astarion, see if you can find his pack. Let's head back to camp. I need to see if I can speak to Bex." I glance back down at the man. "Do you remember the last place you saw it?"

Shadowheart is bent over the rubble of the windmill. "Don't bother, it's right here." She pulls it free and slings it over her shoulder.

"Good luck on your journey, friend." I tip my head to him and we head out.

He mutters as he finally climbs to his feet and staggers away.

"I'm going to need you two to head back to camp for now."

"Oh, are we dismissed?" Astarion says with a catty grin.

"Do what you want. Either way I need to get Bex."

Shadowheart adjusts the strap of the pack on her shoulder. "Why? We have what we need. We don't need a ranger anymore."

"I didn't say I was going to get a ranger. I said I was going to get Bex. I'll meet you back at camp."

"Mm..." She and Astarion share a glance. "Suit yourself." She leaves my side and heads down the path toward camp. Astarion follows, shaking his head.

The ivy-covered gate appears just ahead through a haze of trail dust. Tiefling guards line the parapets as usual. Barely armed. All of them green.

As I come into view, I see a tail disappear down the path toward the hollow. I am welcomed with the rumbling of the gate as it opens. Zevlor is waiting just inside.

He tips his head. "Walk with me." He leads me to his quarters. I sit across from him. A map of the area sprawls across his desk. A few locations are marked with small stones.

Tilses, another Hellrider, leans on the table next to us. "Good to see you, Vash."

I give her a soft nod. "Likewise. Hope you've been keeping well."

"I have. Thank you."

Zevlor leans back in his chair. "There have been whispers of anarchy in the druids' grove."

"There shouldn't be."

"So, it's true."

I glance at Tilses. "It's true only if you can keep your tongues still. What may or may not be happening is a delicate operation. One slip, we fail, and the redoubt becomes a slaughterhouse."

"Gods." Tilses stares down at the map. "They're just druids, and Halsin was so welcoming."

"They are not just druids." I pull the note from my coat and hand it to her.

Her eyes pass over it. "Shadow Druids? What are they doing so far from Cloakwood?"

Zevlor fidgets with one of the stones on the map. "It makes sense, logistically. The grove is naturally fortified, sits on a fertile riverbank, and it's positioned near the Merchant's Road. If I were trying to expand territory, the Emerald Grove would be the first place I turn my eye."

"Precisely." Tilses hands me back the letter. "As for the whispers, I ask for only one thing from you. On my word, have a contingent of guards holding the trail between the inner sanctum and the hollow. The rest of the caravan should head to a safe location."

I glance around the chamber.

"Here, possibly." I return the letter to my coat. "I'll take care of the rest."