The morning sun breaches the horizon and beams down on my face. 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 fire pit my companions sleep blissfully.

I should go find Bex's body before they wake.

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

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

This isn't supposed to happen.

They're not supposed to come back.

Death is final, my kills are fated.

And yet here she is, her chest rising and falling as she dreams away the morning.

I didn't kill her. I didn't...

What happened last night? Where was she?

I want to touch her, to be sure she's real. I don't trust my own mind.

My thoughts scatter and I find myself lying next to her, gripping the edge of her bedroll. I close my eyes and listen to her breathe.

What does this mean? Is she a lesson, or a test?

My heart sinks and a pain tightens my chest. I remain still, quickly losing track of time, before glancing at her once more. She hasn't moved. I reach up and carefully drag my fingers over a loose curl but pull back.

My thoughts collapse and my certainty is now clouded.

What is her place within the tenets of my Oath?

I nestle 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. This is a hells blade not unlike Lae'zel's, but it's not from Avernus.

My breath becomes choked from the cold as a blizzard buries me knee deep in snow. I trudge across an endless tundra. Hand blocking my eyes from the wind. The furs of my cloak are not enough to preserve the warmth of my body. I see the castle up ahead, but I'm already panting from the effort of the journey. I'm not going to make it-someone taps my arm.

Astarion.

"Good morning." I say, pulling myself out of my strange dream. I shift for him.

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 on my knee.

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

He only gives me a passing glance from the corner of his eye. "I can't promise I'll have an answer."

"What did you see, when our minds were linked?"

His fingers press into my knee for the briefest moment. "You've every right to be curious, but I'd rather you hadn't asked." He considers his answer, then speaks with care. "Corpses. Piles of them."

A subtle breeze brushes past us. An echo of my own exhale.

"I'm sorry."

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

The fact that he's even asking. "I'm working on it."

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

I rest my head on his soft, wispy curls. The scent of bergamot and brandy seeps into me, with a hint of cadaver. "Astarion."

"Yes, Darling?"

"What do you think it means? My visions."

"It could mean a lot of things, but I'm in no position to venture a guess." He drags his hand up my thigh. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out together."

A chill runs down my back. He's not being sincere. But how much does sincerity matter if care is freely given regardless? I press my lips to the top of his head, and I feel his body soften next to mine.

...it matters a great deal.

A murmur rises behind us as Bex and Shadowheart wake. My heart leaps, knowing she's still alive.

"It had to end, didn't it?" He says with a sigh. He gives me a gentle squeeze, then rises, retreating into the forest. Ready for his morning hunt.

"Good morning, you two." I sit cross legged by the firepit and begin to prepare a modest batch of oats and acorns. Gale took the time to boil the tannins out of some acorns we foraged. I can't help but pop a few in my mouth before throwing it all in the pot.

My mind lingers on Deathstalker strategies. Do I even remember them? Find the damned, make the sacrifice. But how do I make the sacrifice?

Shadowheart and Bex are deep in conversation regarding battle technique. Shadowheart's training from her Sharran cloister is providing valuable introspection and I become engrossed in her lesson.

"In the light, it doesn't matter if you think you're well hidden behind something, if you can see them, they can see you. However, shadow creates a comforting shroud. A man standing in broad daylight will only see black in the deepest shadows. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

This is what gives you the advantage.

Light is the enemy, even being touched by reflected light can cling and expose your position. It's a death sentence if you don't understand the nature of light. It is in darkness where we will vanquish our foes."

She takes the bowl of oats I hand her and blows cool a spoonful.

Bex nods, also taking a bowl. "I would never have thought of that. You must have some interesting stories regarding shadow strategies."

Shadowheart smiles, thinking back on what she can recall. "I can dredge up a few memories, but those are stories for another day." She takes a bite. Her mind stuck in the past.

Astarion walks back into camp, perky and satiated.

I gesture my spoon toward him. "Find anything good?"

He sighs deeply. "A bear... gods was it good."

Bex looks startled. "A bear? A whole bear? How in the hells did you take it down?"

He rolls his shoulders back with a very self-satisfied grin. "Skills, my dear. I'm not afraid to use everything I have to get what I want." His eyes flick to me for the briefest moment. "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.

I lean forward, examining the scars. "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."

The haze has lifted as the morning warms into noon. The path back to the willow feels like it's shifting around me. The shadows flicker as the leaves rattle in the breeze. It deepens my delirium from the shock of finding her alive.

An arm threads through mine, and I hear her voice. "I'd like to apologize for abandoning you last night, but you seemed so peaceful."

"Peaceful, yes."

She's watching the path as she clings to me. I feel my hand tremble. It was only a dream, but my violence is very real.

We come to the broken bridge. The Chionthar roars, and the river seems to have swelled. The stones are buried deeper under rushing waters.

Bex appraises the crossing. "Looks like there may have been a storm upstream, last night."

Shovel looks at the log she had perched herself on before. Enveloped by the swell. "Dumb water ate my log." She grumbles.

"Bex."

She looks up at me.

I crack my knuckles, nervously. "I would like to try something. I want to fly us across."

"Fly?" She takes a slight step back from me. "Since when have you been able to fly?"

"I've never tried it before." I give her a feeble grin. "May I pick you up?"

She stares at me flatly, turning the idea over in her head. "This is fucking insane." She finally walks into me, reaching up to my shoulders. "Here we go."

I begin to pick her up and she hesitates. "Wait." She looks over at Astarion and Shadowheart. "My final words are, 'For the good of the Caravan.'"

Shadowheart laughs lightly. "I'll tell the others upon your demise."

I smile gently. "A beautiful epitaph."

Astarion crosses his arms and leans into Shadowheart. "Who knew we were going to get such a harrowing show this early in the morning?"

I pick her up, and her arms firmly lock behind my neck. Shovel quickly climbs up onto my shoulders. "Shovel wants to die!"

Bex tries to hide her smile.

I volley a firebolt into the water and the Weave arcs surround me. I feel that familiar levity.

Shovel screams sharply into my ear and launches herself to the ground. "No magic! Pain!!!" She scurries into the tall grass, out of sight.

I focus and kick off the ground. Unsteady at first but airborne. I tilt and begin to slowly float over the treacherous water.

Bex grips tighter and watches the rocks as we make our way across.

I begin to lose altitude, and the rushing water snatches my boot. "Shit."

We falter and Bex breathes in sharply, burying her face in my neck.

I land hard on the bank, but we make it.

"Put me down!" She says, dropping her arms.

I do so, quickly, then rub my hands against my cloak, as if to straighten it.

She stands, holding out her arms to steady herself. "Good gods."

She looks back at Astarion and Shadowheart. "We may not make it back alive, go on without us!" Her voice is comically feeble.

Shadowheart shakes her head, and they plant themselves on the dock. Astarion waves at us. "Better you than us!"

"Do you see my boot?"

She looks around and spots it caught in some reeds willow-side. "Looks like it didn't go far."

I hop over to the mud and fumble through the reeds, barely grabbing it with the tips of my fingers. Once in hand I dump the water out, slipping it back on with an unsavory squish.

Messy.

We split up and begin to comb the island. My mind begins to wander, and my eyes admittedly glaze over a little.

Conquest.

Bhaalspawn.

Godchild.

Things that bring me pride, somewhere within myself. But it's drowned out by the dream. That fucking dream. I feel a heat building in the back of my mind, and I glance at Bex. She has her eyes fixed on the ground around the tree.

Another wrenching in my chest.

She calls me over and I snap back to myself. I make my way to her.

She looks at me and runs her hand across the bark. "I think I've found something!"

She drags her finger over a fissure and pulls out her dagger. She begins to pry away at the tree, chasing a small slip of unnatural white. When she gets close enough, she's able to pull the object free. A note.

I stand behind her. "Looks like your scouting gave us the advantage. Well done."

She's quiet and unfolds the note.

Kagha:

Olodan has sent word of your progress; I am pleased that the Rite of Thorns has begun. I depart soon from Cloakwood to Baldur's Gate. Should you need further aid from my circle, now is the time to ask.

Once cloistered, the Emerald Grove will be the Shadow Druids' domain, and you its First Druid.

In Fladron's memory,

Archdruid Aelis

Bex grows still. "All of the fear. The damnation of my kin. Without a second thought for the children."

"Bex."

She's gripping the note too tightly. I carefully reach down and clasp the edge.

A pause. Then she lets go and walks back to the bank. "Fly me back. I'm ready to go."

I do so. Steadier.

No boots lost.

We make our way back to the redoubt, and as we near the blighted village, we hear a commotion just up the hill. There is a crumbling windmill spinning wildly in the distance. Goblins whooping and ululating in their way. As we breach the hill, I hear a shocked gasp come from Bex and she blows past me.

"Bex." She ignores me and dashes toward the goblin horde.

A goblin swaggers up to her with a cockiness that is unearned. I hear her shouting, and the goblin responds with a prideful indignity. "Who do I think I am!? Fezzerk! I'm in charge of this party!"

"As the one in charge, I am demanding you let that man go! There's nothing he could have done to warrant this!" The fury in her voice echoes through the village.

Fezzerk laughs in her face. "We don't cow to tiefs. Get going! This ain't none of your business."

He's armed with a heavy golden great axe. White-knuckled on the hilt, he hesitates. My tadpole quivers in recognition. I have power over these wretches. They belong to The Absolute.

More words keep coming out of Bex's mouth, like she can't see the danger right in front of her. "No! This isn't right!" Her eyes track the blades of the windmill. "I won't let this stand! Not without a fight!"

I'm running now. It doesn't seem like either one of these idiots wants to fight, but they're pushing each other towards the inevitable. The horde behind Fezzerk begins to cackle and chatter.

Fezzerk swings his axe and Bex hops back, light on her feet. The blade hits the dirt and she draws her daggers. Before she can get a lick in I quickly shove her to the ground. She tumbles down a short flight of stone steps, landing hard in the dirt.

I snatch the shaft of Fezzerk's axe, but I'm unable to pull it from his grip. He drags with his heels skidding across the ground. My dagger is in hand, and his wrist is severed in a blink. He stumbles forward, landing clean on his face.

The horde begins to rally.

A worg charges, snapping at my shin. I beat it in the face with the butt of the axe. Fezzerk's hand still white-knuckled on the hilt.

A couple goblins arm themselves and charge.

I haul the worg up by the scruff, its front feet stiff and outstretched in the air. I draw the axe blade cleanly across its neck. The head breaks free and I toss it at their feet. They topple over it from the sheer momentum.

Bex has lifted herself onto her elbows. She's still and staring at me with an unmeasured intensity. Silent.

I raise my palm with the symbol of the Absolute.

The horde grows quiet.

"Raise one hand against us, and by Her will, you will not live to see nightfall."

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 horde finally stands down, chattering and gawking.

I turn to Bex, my voice firm with frustration. "What's going on?"

My face falls as I see fear in her eyes. "Bex, are you alright?"

She flinches and staggers back. "Keep away from me!"

Her cry is shrill, and it rattles me to my core. My heart begins to race.

Wait.

I can fix this.

Without another word she staggers to her feet and bolts toward the redoubt.

I take a few steps, but she disappears down the trail. "Bex!"

Fuck.

Fuck...

Astarion and Shadowheart finally catch up, looking bewildered.

Shadowheart cuts the silence. "What happened? What did you do!?"

"I did nothing!" I quickly hold out my hands in a halting gesture and take a sharp breath in. I run my fingers through my hair, before turning back to Fezzerk. "Stop sniveling! What in the hells was that about?"

He's cowering on the ground, still clutching his bloody stump. He smacks his lips, his mouth dry, trying to speak. "W-We're just havin' a bit of fun b-before taking him to Moonrise!"

"Take who to Moonrise?"

"Him!" Fezzerk points a shaking finger toward the windmill, and I see a gnome strapped to one of the blades.

I take a long exhale and rub my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I finally look back at Fezzerk. I can't hide the frustration in my voice. "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 stumbles after the rest, blood trailing his retreat.

I stand quietly for a long time.

Shadowheart glances up at the spinning windmill and sees the gnome. "Gods. Poor man." A blink of dark magic flares on the back of her hand and she winces. She grabs her wrist and pauses. "Damn..." She glances at me and then quickly makes her way to stop the spinning blades.

Astarion steps next to me, Fezzerk's axe in hand. He's flicking it, and I look down to see Fezzerk's hand still clutching the hilt, tightly. He sighs and turns his gaze to me. "I see you've graduated from toes to hands. I'm proud of you. So... what did you do to the Ranger?"

The way he says that sends a chill down my spine. "Again. I did nothing."

"Mmm... she bolted because of nothing."

I feel his eyes on me; I even hear the smirk in his voice. "Did you forget how terrifying you are?"

"Am I?" I stare down the trail where she ran and murmur, "Who knows what she'll tell the tieflings once she makes it back to the redoubt."

Astarion feigns concern. "Heavens. What a conundrum. You know, if we burned the whole place down, it could solve that problem for us."

My eyes track his and he manages to coax a boyish smile from me. "A true mastermind. No, I'd hate to see a resource as valuable as the grove go to waste just because I have a shiftless vampire on my hands."

"Shiftless." He nods at my mockery, not denying the accusation.

We hear a loud scraping sound as the blades of the mill come to a halt. Astarion and I step closer, as Shadowheart emerges from behind the structure. To my chagrin, the gnome's blade has landed at the top. He dangles upside down. Passed out, or dead.

I stare up at him before Astarion chimes in, exhausted. "We could just... you know... burn it down."

"Is Pyromancer our flavor of Astarion for today?"

He twists his shoulder at me, giving a flirty shrug. "Don't worry, darling, you'll get to taste all my flavors before long."

Heat fills my cheeks. That one got me. I try to ignore the blush and pull out one of my daggers, appraising the ropes holding the Gnome. With a skilled flip, I launch the dagger at the windmill blade. It strikes the rope, but it only unravels halfway. I glance over at Astarion. "If you could finish me off—finish the job." I close my eyes and take a deep, disappointed sigh.

A wide grin spreads across his face, and he pulls out his own dagger, dragging it down the sleeve of my cloak. "Whatever you say." I get goosebumps. He finally lets it fly, cutting the rest of the ropes. The gnome drops into my arms like a sack of flour. The bastard is denser than I expected, like being unconscious adds a few stone.

He's a bald man with the kind of face that somehow makes him look both wily and reserved. His skin is dark blue, indicative of deep gnomes. Strange to see one on the surface, they typically live in the Underdark.

I lay him flat and check his pulse. He's alive, but only just.

Shadowheart already has a healing potion out, crouching next to him and pouring it down his throat.

His eyes snap open and he coughs violently, clutching his head. "NNNGGGHHH!!!" A sharp gasp erupts from him, and he tries to scramble to his feet.

Shadowheart and I hold him down out of mercy. I allow my voice to dip into its soothing lull. "Sir. Sir. It's okay, just breathe. You've been through a lot."

Despite our attempts to get him to settle, he stubbornly continues to fight us. "No! I must find Wulbren!"

Shadowheart holds his ankles as I grip his shoulders. "And you will, but you need to settle down first!"

He looks at us, his chest heaving. Panic and pain in his eyes. He slowly stops kicking and lies flat. "You don't understand..."

I nod reassuringly. "Then help us understand."

"Wulbren..." He says between breaths, then pulls a medallion from around his neck. Scuffed and smeared with blood. "He's been my friend since we were children. Lost. Need to find him. He's gone to the Underdark, I'm sure of it. Could be in danger."

He's calmed himself. Shadowheart and I let him go. "How can you be so sure that's what has happened?"

A chuff leaves him as if the answer was obvious. "I found his medallion near Rivington. Nothing good could have happened to him there. Likely taken by slavers. It's our lot in life."

The word Rivington sparks something within me. Muddied streets and Flaming Fist.

Blood. So much blood.

It's the first notion I've gotten that speaks of home and something turns in my chest. Another piece of me. I focus on Wulbren once again. "So, your plan is to run headlong into the arms of slavers for a man who's probably been dead a ten day?" I grin at him, hungrily. "If you're eager for death, I'd be happy to offer my very merciful services."

He sits up, clutching his head. "Haha..." I watch him with empty eyes and he recoils, quickly climbing to his feet. "Ser. If I have a chance to find him, I'm going to take it, if I may." He dusts himself off, no longer making eye contact with me. "Now, if you don't mind. I thank you for the heroic rescue, but I must be on my way. You can take my pack as payment, but let's not cross paths again." He gestures toward a rucksack laid against the edge of the windmill's stony wall. With a curt nod the gnome swiftly stalks off.

Shadowheart and I stand, allowing the man to choose a slow death. I release an exhausted sigh through my nose, collecting myself. "I need to head to the Hollow. Find Bex. Here, take a few of my things back to camp with you."

Astarion crosses his arms, scowling. "So, we're your pack mules now?"

I grab the gnome's bag and begin to unload my pockets. Potions, scrolls, daggers. The only things I keep on hand are a few healing potions, Alfira's bell, and the... tadpoles. I pull open the pocket where they are kept and notice one is missing. I search my other pockets and begin to pat my cloak down. "What in the hells?"

Shadowheart looks at me, concerns. "What is it?"

I swiftly look at her. "I... I'm missing something important." I close my eyes, calming myself. Now's not the time for tantrums over missing tadpoles. I relax my shoulders and move past it.

I pull out the Necromancy of Thay and Astarion's eyes go wide, snatching it from my hands. "What's thiiiiiis?" The man has an uncanny nose for mischief.

"It's mine. Feel free to carry it back with you, do not damage it."

He clutches it, and I sling my greatsword around his shoulders. It nearly knocks him over, but he regains his footing. It awkwardly hangs loose around his body, and he shifts the strap to have better purchase across his chest. "Gods, the fact that you choose to wander around with this thing every damned day. I will never understand Paladins and their need for punishment. It doesn't matter how righteous they are, each one of them is a masochist." He glances at me. "Although you hide it less than others."

A knowing grin splits my face. "It is righteous to be honest about my appetites, Astarion."

"Mhm," he says with a matched smile.

I hand Shadowheart the rucksack. She takes it and gives me a nod. "Good luck speaking with her. Whatever the hells happened, hopefully she can get past it."

"Thank you. I'll meet you both back at camp."

My hands twitch as I drift over the path like an eager specter. I tuck them into my pockets, hiding my anxiety. Yet still, my tail curls with anticipation.

I'm not sure what I'll face when I make it to the hollow, but I'll have to face it all the same. I just need to ground myself with her presence, just to be sure everything's okay.

Even if she hates me.