TRIGGER WARNING: More Deeper Emotional Manipulation, Attempted Suicide, Angry Gale.

The day wanes as I escort Bex and Danis back to the Hollow. His arm draped over her protectively, but her eyes reflect the resolve of a woman who's proven she can protect herself. I see it in the way she glances at me.

Danis is talking, filling the silence with nervous tittering, and the noise is getting to me. My hand twitches and my stomach feels sickened. A headache is pressing behind my eyes. It seems to have come on suddenly and I press my fingers to my eyes, trying to cope with the discomfort.

Bex glances at me and sees the sudden shift. "Is everything alright?"

"Hmm?" I look down at her. "Yes. I just have a headache. I’ll take care of it when I’m back at camp."

We’ve made it to the gate, and the gate guard waves down at us. "Welcome home Bex, Danis! Good to see you, Vash!" He gives a cheeky grin. "Hope the goblins haven't tired you out too much!"

I give a placating wave but barely smile. A terrible joke.

Bex grabs my arm, in her way, looking at me with care and concern. She doesn’t say anything but gives me a gentle squeeze before following Danis in.

I watch them leave and glance back up at the guard who lowers the gate behind them. It thunks closed and a small cloud of trail dust plumes around the base.

Everything is finally quiet, which only makes the whispers grow louder.

The headache has only grown stronger. I stagger back into camp, head throbbing, mouth salivating. Each one of us has fallen ill. Shadowheart is tucked away in her tent, but I can hear her heavy breath. Astarion is lying quietly in his bedroll, arm resting in his chest, like a corpse posed in an open casket display. Gale sits by the campfire, with his head low, elbows resting on his knees, a faint shudder rushing through him. He’s a stubborn man, trying hard to fight it; but as he glances up, his eyes give me a sense of foreboding. None of us dare say it out loud. Our time has come.

I place my hand on Gale's shoulder, offering comfort, as best I can. "Go to bed. Think of what the morning brings."

His eyes don’t break from mine. He’s beginning to see through me. "You really are a singularly ominous man, Vash." He stands on shaking knees before shuffling to his tent. The epitome of a weary wizard.

I smile feebly and watch as he leaves. He didn't bother masking his words tonight, he thinks they'll be his last. Gale is the best of us. I wish I'd gotten to know him better.

Slowly, I bring myself to sit. The fire embers sizzle and begin to sputter out. I don't bother stoking it further. There's no use in warming a corpse, unless you're looking for it to rot faster.

A ringing cuts into my ears and I close my eyes tight, hanging my head. My mind is flailing against the walls of my skull. It almost feels like tendrils are reaching down the back of my throat, though I suspect the sensation is a reflection of my own dread. I brush my hand over my mouth, the fluid dripping from my lips is a mixture of blood and bile.

A vague moan comes from Astarion's tent. "Lae'zel..."

I slowly lift my head, feeling like it weighs six stone. I hadn't noticed her approaching, and in a single clumsy motion, she's crouched before me, a dagger pressed against my neck. This again. Instinctively, my hand shoots up, snatching her throat, lifting her into the air as I stand.

Astarion gasps, dramatically, reaching out a desperate hand. "No! Lae'zel! He'll start monologuing!"

The exhausted fury in her eyes is followed by her dagger, slicing across my arm. I slam her into the ground, knocking the wind out of her. I choke back the vomitous feeling from the physical exertion. Her feet find purchase on me and she kicks off; the momentum throws me to the ground as she comes loose, rolling to her feet. She’s gripping her dagger, coughing once more, rubbing her neck. "Do not fight me, Istik!” Her voice is a croak beneath her zeal. “I refuse to allow us to become these illithid abominations. Denial will not stop the change. What I offer is mercy!"

I roll to an upright position, gripping my head. "Mercy!" I catch a hint of doubt, drawing my attention to the fear woven into the panic in her voice. "This is your idea of mercy?"

She scoffs, "It is generosity, if nothing else."

I give her a pitying glance and she grows offended, the pity being no better than mockery. She staggers forward, refusing to give into the illness. As she lunges, I catch her daggered hand by the wrist, wrenching the weapon away from her and tossing it aside. I pull her into me, and she collapses to the ground. My hand chases her free arm as she struggles. Her voice stuttering with frustration. "N-No!"

I finally catch her other wrist and roll on top of her, pinning her to the ground. She grunts, irate though exhausted, with palpable resentment. After a few breaths, she calms. I gaze down at her and a flush covers her nose, cheeks, and chest. She swiftly looks away, and closes her eyes, allowing herself to let go. I feel her body relax beneath me.

I finally raise my fingers, but keep my palms pressed onto her wrists. She makes no move to attack. After another held breath, I lift myself off her and get to my feet. "Go to bed, we'll be better in the morning."

She lies still for a moment before lifting herself up by the elbows. Though dazed, she still has the presence of mind to grab her dagger from the ground. "Honeyed promises." She says as she finally stands. “That’s all it ever was… your recklessness has doomed us all.”

My nostrils flare and a sputtering cough escapes me. I swallow the bitter-metallic mess in my mouth and try to read her face. I genuinely can't tell whether she's feeling anger, fear, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, she feels it with a harsh conviction. A conviction I'm no longer interested in dealing with.

I close my eyes, and take a deep inhale through my nose.

"Lae'zel."

With difficulty, I stand straight, her eyes tracking me. My voice is measured despite the pain.

"How does it feel to stare into the event horizon?"

She pauses, and I see a chill run through her. She clutches the dagger, firmly. Her face softening with resignation. A shroud of sadness passing over her before she is gripped with honor and pride. "Vlaakith tavki na'zin." She brings the blade to her throat and begins to draw it across her neck.

A soft touch and a whispered spell. Gale catches her, as she tumbles into a deep sleep. He holds her close before his eyes snap to mine.

For the first time, I see anger in his gentle face. "How dare you." His voice shakes as the weave shifts around him, dangerously. "She's trying so hard to fulfill her potential, and instead of giving her compassion, you'd rather snuff her out in her weakest hour."

I don't have the energy to argue with him and my silence stifles the air around us.

He shakes his head, and I feel the deepened concern and wariness he has for me now. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

I watch with a hollow calm as Gale carries her to her tent, before finally—painfully—climbing into my bedroll.

The moment I close my eyes I feel a swift kick in my back. I turn with frustration to see Astarion hovering over me, his voice cracked but wry. "Gods, you're a cold bastard. I thought Dror Ragzlin was your finest performance, but this takes the cake."

I roll over, pressing my palms into my aching face. "Ngh! Astarion! How in the hells do you have the energy to bother me right now!?"

He taps my shoulder. I move over as he makes himself comfortable, lying next to me. Sweaty and spent. He speaks breathlessly, burying his face in my arm. "I just wanted to be sure that you knew... with my dying breath... that you're the most insufferable man I've ever met."

I chuckle lightly, before wincing in pain. I put my arm around him, and he shifts closer to me, laying his head on my chest. He runs his finger over the blood on my arm and tastes it, a subtle smile decorating his lips. We fall motionless in each other's arms, our minds drifting away. "You too... and I mean that from the bottom of my heart."

I'm awash with voices, but they're not in my mind. They're echoes that cascade endlessly through the air. My body feels like a vessel, my soul is contained but not connected. I'm on edge from the alien sensations and I finally open my eyes. I'm not quite understanding the blurred purples above me. Is it dawn? No. Great rocky bodies tumble past as if they were dust motes in a forgotten library. It's not even Faerûn. I sit up as the echoes thread themselves through the holes in my mind. The sky is a vivid violet, filled with clouded galaxies that drift and collide in a timeless space.

The Astral Plane.

I'm sitting on a floating island. Around me is a verdant garden, adorned with crumbling marble pillars, and lattice work that plays host to vines of blue Morning glories. Ancient ferns and mosses decorate the ground, with a whisper of pink blossoms peeking through the green. I finally see someone walking towards me. My heart skips a beat, and I lose my breath.

"Alfira!" I am flooded with excitement and desire.

She gives me a cheeky smile. "Vash. I'm glad I was able to pull you to safety when I did."

I stand abruptly and run over to her, gripping her shoulders and looking over her. She is clad in polished golden armor. Her hair is dusty. Her skin, pale and marbled. Like she rose from her crypt to find me. "How is this possible? I tore you apart."

"Yes... you did." She begins to walk the garden, and I follow her, glued to her presence. She keeps a steady pace in front of me, each step serene, as if she has a right to still be alive. "I am the one in the prism who has been protecting you. I have kept you safe from the Absolute, and I am keeping you from undergoing ceremorphosis."

"So, you are sentient. Who are you?" Many questions rush through my mind, but I try to remain focused.

"The only thing I can offer is what you see before you. A facsimile of the person you desire most. In your case this is the best I can do. You have precious few memories to work with."

My face twists into confusion. "Alfira? ...not Bex?"

"Because Bex is a pacifier for the bleeding fear you still feel regarding Alfira's death, even now."

I stop and watch her. "I do not fear death."

She turns to me with a pitiful glance. "Of course not. A silly notion to assume the reaper would fear his own breath."

My hair stands on end.

"You know what you're capable of, and her death exposed your most glaring flaw." She watches a rocky boulder float by, her tail swaying contemplatively, before glancing back at me. "You're just another puppet for the Gods."

...

"What do you want?"

She faces me with a generous smile. "I want to give you your agency back."

A lofty promise. A lie. I can't help but scoff, entertaining her. "Okay. How?"

She leans into me. "The tadpole, Vash. By now you know it harbors power. You've utilized it already. Your control over the pods on the Nautiloid. Your psionic connection with the others. Your effortless dismantling of the goblins' psyche. Paltry parlor tricks. You haven’t realized just how much potential they hold. It is far more than you know."

I brush my finger over my scar, my mind lingering on my relationship with the parasite in my head. Her words intrigue me but have terrifying implications. Do I want this thing to have more power?

"You’re moving in the right direction. You’ve been collecting them, though you don’t know why. It was my bidding that has been encouraging you. Not the Absolute."

"Ah. You were the voice. There’s no need in me asking why I should trust you. I’m at your mercy. If I don't comply, then I'm useless to you and you withdraw your protection. I'm just a slave to a new face."

She laughs lightly. "I’m sorry it has to be this way, especially given the position you're in. You've been dancing to the whims of so many lately. Zevlor. Halsin. The Absolute. ...Bhaal."

"Bhaal? How could you possibly know about that?"

She continues without answer. "I need you, Vash. I know you would have never helped me out of the good of your heart." The words snap at the back of my mind. "You have no heart. Why would I waste my time trying to appeal to it? The fact that I don't need to is a mercy to me. Even so, I have no desire to build our newfound alliance on a foundation of threats and blackmail. We can work together toward a common goal."

"What goal is that?"

"To bring an end to the threat of the Absolute. You know who she is. You know why it must be done."

"So my suspicions are correct. You can see why I'm hesitant to trust the tadpoles." The thread only leads to one answer. A goddess who controls through the use of illithid tadpoles and can decide how and when someone turns. The tablet on the nautiloid lead me true.

"Each tadpole you’ve collected holds the memories of the host it infected. Those memories are what can imbue you with new power. Your tadpole has laid the foundation for these memories to take hold." She puts a hand on my arm. "Let it happen."

"How, exactly? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with them."

"Focus on your tadpole, at your command it can absorb the psionic memory of each worm."

If this is true, the powers we could gain could give us an unbelievable advantage.

"Vash." Her face falls, though her melancholy seems performative. "Once you absorb the memories of a tadpole, it will wither and die. The worm is only good until its memories are passed on. Use them wisely, they cannot be shared."

"I see." I feel a pang of remorse for having lost one already.

In that moment, I feel an explosion rattle the garden.

She ducks slightly. "I must go..." She grips my shoulders and looks into my eyes. Pleading. "Embrace the potential these worms have to offer. Any advantage will help you in the coming war."

I shrug off her hands. "This war has nothing to do with me. Why is everyone so hells bent on getting me involved?"

Her eyes flash. "You’re far more involved than you realize. This is your destiny. Now go!" Her voice purrs as she presses her fingers to my forehead. I am jettisoned back into my mind.

My eyes snap open and I abruptly sit up, dropping Astarion’s head on the ground. He jolts awake, his head popping up next to me. "What in the hells?" He pats himself down, before pressing a tender hand to his face, and tracing his soft white locks.

"Oh... thank the gods. I'm still beautiful."

I look down at him and breathe. "Are you alright?"

He nods quietly before groaning and stretching, giving a wide yawn. "Yes... it would seem so. And you?" He looks up at me and presses his fingers to my lip, grinning. "No tentacles hiding in that mustache of yours."

I snort and swat his hand away, before gingerly getting to my feet and stretching my quivering limbs. The sun is only just breaching the horizon. Astarion stands, feather light, walking back to his tent. He grabs a towel and glances at me coquettishly, beckoning me to join with a nod. He leads me to the river's edge. I pull off my tunic and as Astarion removes his blouse.

The river is obscured by the morning's mist. The air is tepid and as the fog drifts over us, we collect the condensation on our skin and hair. Astarion becomes dappled with droplets, making him more mythical than usual. I glance over to admire his figure. What I see is an array of puckering scars radiating outward from the center of his back. The scar pattern looks like a collection of words, but I can't quite catch what it says.

"Wait." I step closer to him.

"What?" He catches my eyes tracking his back and gasps. He quickly turns to face me, blocking my view.

"What is that?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Some sort of poem, but the less I think about it, the better."

"Did Cazador do that to you?"

He frowns at the mention of him, but his eyes soften into a plea. "Let it go."

I lift my hands defensively, "Okay, Astarion. It’s just..."

He looks at me with a sour face for a moment before rolling his eyes. "It’s just, what?"

"They seem familiar. Are you sure you don’t want me to look?"

I see his shoulders tense. "If I said yes, would you afford me the dignity of not badgering me about it?"

"It’s not my back. I’m only offering potential insight."

He looks at me with those cold eyes of his. "Yes, I’m sure. In the very least give me time to warm to the idea before you go poking around in a past that I'd love to forget."

I give a respectful nod. "I’ll keep my eyes to myself."

A coy smile slips in through the cracks of his anguish. His flirty swagger returns with a hint of bashfulness. "I mean, scars aside, I don’t hate the idea of you worshipping my body."

I gift him a hungry grin, letting my eyes drift over him as I step closer and take his hand. I scan his expression. He's sardonic, but that strange foreign sincerity shines fleetingly in his eyes. I press his hand to my lips. Nothing, no heartbeat. Only that same delicious corpse smell. There is something, though. The faintest tremble. His face doesn't betray it, but my lips can feel it. I speak warmly into his milky skin. "I would tear through a dozen charging Rothe to be anointed by your perfect ass on my face."

His jaw drops with a wry scoff. "In two hundred years that has to be the most erotic thing anyone has ever said to me."

A lie, but I'll take the compliment.

We hear a throat clear and glance over to see Gale standing there, towel and wizard's robe in arm. He's still wearing his camp clothes, and he looks embarrassed, shrinking at our horny banter. "Am I interrupting something? I can go... I should go."

I give him a little tease. "Please, we've got room for one more." I reach out my hand, I know my invitation isn't tempting in the least, but it's fun to see him squirm.

He stiffens, and after a moment I see him staring at me with a sullen face. Silent.

"Are you still upset about yesterday? Gale, she attacked me, and then openly admitted she was going to kill everyone. Including you."

He bristles. "There is more than one way to handle a situation, Vash! Convincing her to... kill herself... was far from necessary. By the gods, it’s like you’re the master at finding the most violent solution to every problem."

I let go of Astarion and turn to him. "What. I shouldn't have encouraged the zealot to follow her own doctrine? Lae'zel's devotion to that bitch, Vlaakith, is what's ruined her. Maybe the brush with death will be the wake up call she needs. Coddling her delusions isn't going to help her, Gale."

"Are you saying you did this as a kindness? You can’t possibly expect me to believe that."

I move toward him and he shifts, but remains firmly planted. "No Gale. What I'm saying is this. Now that you've stayed her hand, you can be the one who steers her toward deliverance and absolution."

"Absolution? For what?"

My nose curls with resentment, voice hissing through my teeth. "For what she almost did to me."

Gale is quiet, but I can hear his heart racing. “...gosh.”

After a moment he takes a deep breath and stares straight back at me. "Remember this, Vash, I'm always willing to give people a chance, but don't try anything like that again."

"That is how we survive."

He stares at me, defiant.

I breathe. What an exhausting man. "I'll be sure to be more mindful with Lae'zel."

His shoulders fall and he shifts his focus to Astarion, just behind me.

Astarion has just finished bathing. He snaps at Gale indignantly, pulling his shirt on. "Going back to your original question. Yes. You were interrupting something. You are such a mood killer, I swear." He brushes past both of us, headed back to his tent.

Gale watches him leave and then glances back to me, with a guilty scowl. He gives up on bathing and returns to his tent.

These men are so damned dramatic. I bitterly bathe by myself.

The tension is palpable as I make it to the campfire. My focus is firmly on my stomach. Everything has been exhausting lately, and I'm ravenous.

Gale shoves a plate of food into Astarion's hands like a bowl of dog food. "Vash's breakfast."

Astarion is sitting on his stool next to the fire, and nearly topples over. "Good Gods, Gale!" He barely takes the plate, wrists weak and disengaged.

I quickly grab it from him before he drops it.

Messy.

I hold the plate up to him. "Thank you, Gale." I choose to ignore his tantrum and try not to shovel the food down my throat. Potatoes and carrots, with fresh fish. Fabulously fresh.

Shadowheart picks up the conversation. "Well..." She clears her throat and turns to Gale, "she told me the tadpoles were a powerful resource. We just need to embrace it."

My tail flicks lightly as I track the conversation. I eat quietly, looming over the fire to dry myself.

Gale is fiddling with an apple, barely a bite taken out of it. "Curious. Very curious. I was told a similar line. She seemed insistent, almost desperate." His eyes flick to me. "She said all we needed were the tadpoles you’ve been collecting." His eyes burrow into me. "Did you know about this?"

I take a moment to finish my bite. "No. I had been compelled to collect the worms by some ambiguous urge. I had no context as-to-why it was important, but the compulsion was irresistible."

Astarion crosses his ankles, brushing his curls in place. "Well. How could we possibly ignore such a generous gift?"

Lae’zel sits, leg propped up, wrist settled on her knee. She stares pensively into the flames, unblinking. Something in her mind falls away and she suddenly looks haunted.

Her eyes drift up to me; her voice rattled with turmoil. "...why would a Githyanki Artifact decree we be tempted by illithid power? This must be some sort of trick." Her looks desperate, like she expects me to have the answer.

Gale puts a hand on her shoulder. "I think caution is warranted. What do we really know about these things? Any kind of use of this power could open untold horrors." He rubs a hand across his chest, self soothing. His voice dips. "Power rarely comes without a price."

Shadowheart watches me as I grab my cloak lying next to her. I pull a tadpole specimen from my pocket. The creature wriggles and bounces off the glass. My tadpole stirs slightly at its presence, making my eye twitch.

"You're right. Let's hold off for now. See if we can get any more information regarding the damned things."

I throw my cloak on and gingerly place it back in my pocket. "If any of you need me, I'll be by the riverbank."

Withers, true to his word, has continued to loom on the outskirts of the camp. A witness to some terrible fairy tale. He's been a constant reminder of my night with Alfira. I glance at him, getting a churning feeling in the pit of my stomach.

His haunting eyes fixed on me as I pass. "Thy wheel of fate turns ever to the dark."

"Thank you, Withers." Useless fucking skeleton.

The sands of the river's shore cradle my boots as I stand, looking out over the Chionthar. The smell of fresh water, and misted breeze coming off the river grounds me to the moment. I close my eyes and just... breathe.

The entity in the prism has a stranglehold on my life.

There is nothing I can do about it outside of finding a cure for this damned worm.

Yet she offers me power. She needs me. If she needs me badly enough, I may have some leverage, though it would be tenuous at best.

Agency... she offers me agency like I could challenge the gods with the power of these tadpoles.

An extraordinary claim. Bold. Desperate.

She knows exactly who I am, and she's grooming me to be her personal weapon...

A gentle hand grips my arm.

"Good morning, Vash." Bex's voice is bright, yet subdued. "Can we talk?"

"You're interrupting some very important brooding, but I'll allow it." I give her a cheeky smile.

"Hah." Tolerance for my utter hilarity. "I took some time to think about our discussion yesterday."

"Oh? Do you have notes?"

She nudges me. "Please, just listen."

I hold up my hands and give her space to speak.

"When you brought me on, you told me you were making a sacrifice for my sake. It was supposed to be my chance to prove myself." Her eyes drift to the water, her face falling slightly. "All I did was confirm your fears."

She gathers her confidence and addresses me directly. "Taking it upon myself to lead a charge is not just reckless on my part, it's bad strategy in general. We need to work as a team, united. I won't be making that mistake again. It was a difficult lesson to learn, but necessary."

I watch her quietly, taking the moment in.

She subtly taps her thumb against her thigh. "I hope I haven't squandered my opportunity to continue traveling with you. I just..." Her tail flicks, agitated. "I don't want to go back to cowering in the Hollow, just because I couldn't handle a harsh truth." She mutters. "It would be a waste."

In another realm she would merely be Bex, the baker. Doomed to a life of monotony until her dying day. A waste indeed. "This life isn't easy. We assume the dangers are just the enemies we face, but the decisions we make can be far more dangerous. You've seen that now. The fact that you've taken the time to understand makes you a potent adventurer. That's something I need."

A small smile plays across lips, she looks proud. Something she's earned.

Hesitantly, I reach out, barely brushing my fingers along the back of her hand.

She looks down and slowly takes my hand in hers.

I release a quiet breath. "It will get harder, of course. Do not expect our duties to be wholesome, especially on this day. We will be confronting the druids. It will be violent. Not everyone who dies will deserve it."

As her eyes meet mine, she seems taken back. "You're bringing me to confront the druids?"

"I am offering."

She blinks, holding my gaze for a moment. "Vash..." She grips my hand tighter. "Thank you."