Content Warning: Graphic Violence, Mutilation, Psychological Horror, Intrusive Thoughts, Mind Control, Cult Themes
Panic, Fear, Brooding, Violent Thoughts, Scary Dad Vibes, Goblin Dismemberment (Again), Bros giving tender Kisses to their Bros.

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 up 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 spend the morning collecting myself.

Astarion wakes first, his mewling voice unmistakable, even when he's yawning. He finds me sitting on a stone sunken by the water's edge, honing my sword. Whetstone gliding against steel.

He taps my arm, and I shift for him. He sits beside me, looking out over the river. I wait for a snide remark or sarcastic comment, but it never comes. He simply puts his hand over mine.

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 hand 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 see." I glance down at his pale hand, looking even paler against my pallid dark skin. "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. He's hopped from the clutches of one violent man, and into the arms of another. "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. Then a thought pushes into my mind, and I grow cold.

Can I trust that I'm desired by someone who knows what I am?

"Astarion."

"Yes, Darling?"

The pet name causes a smile to tug at the corner of my lip. "What do you think it means? My visions."

He's quiet for a moment, trailing his fingers up my arm. "It could mean a lot of things. I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to venture a guess. I suspect you're asking because you don't know yourself well enough either." He reaches down and places a hand on my thigh. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out together, won't we?"

His words feel performative, and it sends a chill down my back. I hesitate, how much do his lies matter at the end of the day? I press my lips to the top of his head, and I feel his body soften next to mine.

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

Astarion's shoulders sink. "It had to end, didn't it?" He gently squeezes my fingers and gets to his feet, 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 spoonfull.

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?"

His ego is stroked by his triumph. "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 eye the scars. "Did you take one of our healing potions for that?"

"Don't get uppity." He wrinkles his nose. "Drinking blood has modest healing properties for me. Afford me the satisfaction of being a little reckless, Love, it keeps life exciting."

His playfulness is refreshing. It's been a heavy morning to say the least.

We pack up in a timely manner and head back to the willow. I'm startled by the sensation of someone wrapping their arms around my arm. "You were so adorable last night." I look down to see Bex. Her voice is perky, and she has a bounce in her step. "I'm glad I could help you sleep. I'm sorry for leaving you there, but I didn't want to wake you. You seemed so peaceful."

"Peaceful, yes." A deep flush comes over me. I wasn't sure how much of it was real. It was the best sex I've never had. I feel my hand tremble slightly, the violence still biting at the edges of my mind. "Thank you. Who knew willow trees were so cozy." My voice sounds more troubled than I had intended.

We come to the broken bridge where we had previously crossed. The Chionthar roars, and the river seems to have swelled. The stones are buried deeper into the 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. She grumbles, agitated. "Dumb water ate my log."

I stare across, not able to get my mind off of the sinking dream. I'm dwelling. I need to not dwell. I need levity.

"Bex."

She looks up at me and I crack my knuckles nervously. "I would like to try something. It may not work, but I think I can fly us across."

"Fly!? You think you may be able to fly across? And you want to just... try it? Without knowing if it will fail?"

"That's the sum of it. Yes. I like to live dangerously." I give her a feeble grin. "May I pick you up?"

She stares at me flatly, tail swaying as she turns the idea over in her head. She finally walks into me, reaching up to my shoulders. "Here we go."

I begin to pick her up and she places a hand on my chest. "Wait."

I stop. She looks over at Astarion and Shadowheart. "My last words are, I did it for the caravan. Make that my epitaph."

Shadowheart laughs lightly. "I'll make sure it's done."

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 laughs and shakes her head.

I volley a firebolt into the water and red archs surround me, charged by the weave, I feel that familiar levity.

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

I focus, and lift up off the ground, unsteady at first, but air born. 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 faulter and Bex lets out a rasping squeak, burying her face into my neck.

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

"Put me down, put me down, put me down." She says, kicking her feet.

I do so and 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!" She says with a feeble voice.

Shadowheart shakes her head, and they plant themselves on the dock. Astarion waves his handkerchief at us. "Good luck with your search! Hope you find a good enough reason to kill the druid's leader!"

"Do you see my boot?"

She looks around and sees it caught in some reeds willow-side. She gets it for me, and I dump the water out, slipping it back on.

"I'm going to have to dry it out later. Last thing I need right now is trench foot."

We split up and begin to comb the island. I'm searching but I'm barely here.

Thoughts turn over in my mind. 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, as if I'm being punished for thinking about it.

I glance at Bex. She has her eyes fixed on the ground around the tree.

Another wrenching in my chest.

She calls over to me. "Vash."

My ears perk up and 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 give us the advantage. Well done."

She's quiet, and unfolds the note.

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, 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 Greataxe, clutching it tightly. White-knuckled, but hesitant. I feel the tadpole quiver at his presence. 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!" Her voice is uncertain, but dutiful as she reaches for her daggers.

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. There horde behind Fezzerk begins to cackle and chatter.

Fezzerk swings his axe and Bex prepares to dodge.

I snatch the shaft of the axe, while pushing Bex firmly to the ground. She tumbles down the stone steps leading to the dusty road, out of the way.

With my dagger already in hand, I sever Fezzerk's wrist in a blink.

The horde begins to rally.

A worg charges, snapping at my calf. I quickly drop the dagger and pull my greatsword, beating it in the face with my hilt. After a few quick licks, it staggers. I watch the goblins, lifting the worg by the scruff, its front feet stiff in the air.

A few of the goblins falter, but the others arm themselves and begin to charge.

I draw my blade cleanly across its neck, tossing the head at their feet. I raise my palm, flashing the symbol of the Absolute. A few goblins topple over the head from sheer momentum, the others stop and the horde grows quiet.

Bex has lifted herself onto her elbows. Silent, bruised, and scuffed, but alive.

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

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.

An arrow hits me, splintering against my sleeve. The goblin archer fumbles for another arrow, but I drop him with my tadpole. He cries and claws at his eyes.

The horde finally stands down, chattering and gawking.

I turn to Bex, asking firmly, admittedly frustrated at her needless escalation. "What's going on?"

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

I step towards her and she immediately flinches. "Keep away from me!"

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

Wait.

No.

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 give a disapproving sigh at my slip.

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 still okay.

Even if she hates me.