Quiet.

Cold.

Waking... again.

By the gods, I'm alive.

I lie still, keeping my eyes closed. I just want to be here, in this moment. Alone with nothing. Blessedly free from necessity.

Something soft dapples my face. The world is knocking. I'm not ready.

Just a minute more...

I take a deep breath. The scent of burning chitin. The sound of lapping water. Chilled sand beneath me. My fingers press into it, shifting under my weight as I lift myself to my elbows. I blink. Falling ash drifts through the air, coating me. The bright colors of a river valley assault me as everything comes into focus.

The smell of death suddenly envelops me. Bodies. Everywhere. Poor souls that did not survive the cataclysm.

The whispers creep into my mind and a chill runs through me.

Death.

An old friend.

I lift myself. The nearest body lays only a few paces away. Something calls to me, and I crouch next to him. The body is already partially swallowed by sand and he's beginning to bloat. I drag my fingers through his hair and pull my hand across his skin, rubbing the corpse grease between my fingers.

My shoulders fall and I breathe. For the first time since the nautiloid I feel at peace. I remain for a moment more before a glinting light grabs my attention. I shade my eyes and notice shining mail.

Another body.

Shadowheart.

As I rise, my bones pop and my back aches. Gods, how old am I? I wade through the bodies and drop to one knee next to her, checking her pulse. Thank the gods, the cleric survived. My face falls and my hand idly drifts, resting at her throat. I give it a thoughtful squeeze.

Imagine... surviving impossible odds, only to be strangled by the man who saved you.

Bards would sing such tragedies to children.

I pull my hand back, but it did not go easy. The little shit.

"Shadowheart." I pat her cheek.

Her brow tenses and she groans, swatting me away. She wakes as I loom. "Gods! It's you!" She lifts herself. "How in the hells did we survive?"

"A very practical question, are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so." She reaches for her satchel, giving it a gentle pat. She briefly closes her eyes. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." I climb to my feet with a grunt, then offer my hand. "Do you know this region?"

She takes it and stands, surveying the terrain. "No. Not in the least." She pauses and glances at me. "You didn't have to save me. Back on the nautiloid, I mean. And yet you wasted precious time doing so."

I shift my feet.

"Odd." She adjusts her satchel and lifts her chin. "I am grateful all the same."

I give her a coy smile. "The bounty on your life is a humble one." I gesture toward my eye. "Removal of this damned tadpole."

She grips the strap of her satchel. "Unfortunately, illithid extraction is not within my skillset. I'll have to repay you another way."

Of course it couldn't be that easy...

She shifts her gaze toward the path ahead, a slight breeze ruffling her fringe. "Let's see if we can get our bearings, and then hopefully we can find a healer who can help."

"You want to travel with me?"

She begins to walk. "What, do you have somewhere better to be?"

I smile and follow.

The vast, shattered nautiloid looms over us as we make our way. The wreckage groans as it settles in the sand. A piece of hull shifts and drops, landing hard in the water. I put my hand on Shadowheart's back as we quicken our pace.

A loud crack comes from above as a sheet of chitin breaks free. I shove Shadowheart and we hit the ground. The shard splits the sand mere inches from where we land.

We stare at it in silence. "I suppose a long walk on the beach is out of the question. Let's hurry and clear the wreckage. I'd prefer to remain in once piece."

"Agreed."

We get to our feet and move quickly, watching the skies.

"Your reflexes are quick," she says. "Where did you train?"

"I'm... not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"The only thing I can recall is waking up on the Nautiloid. Anything before that is lost to me. Have you experienced the same?"

"Bizarre irony." She murmurs. "I have the same affliction, though it happened before the tadpole."

"Before. How so?"

"It's... complicated." She trails off.

I choose not to press.

We breathe easy as we step out of the wreckage. The sunbaked path kicks up dust as we walk.

A flamboyant man stands at the edge of the trail, staring down at his hands. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, the sunlight warming his pale skin.

We approach and he smiles. "I know you're there." He looks at us with a long-lipped smile and soft eyes. "You're not subtle."

I look at Shadowheart. The stilted ringing of her chain mail settles as she stops next to me.

I glance back at him. "Sir, we are like mice in the shadows."

"A poet," he sneers.

"A paladin."

He presses his hands together. "Oh, of course you are! In that case, I'm sure you'd be more than happy to help me with my little dilemma."

"Dilemma?" I say, leaning back.

"A-hah. I knew that would pique your interest." He gestures toward some reeds. "I seem to have lost my pack, and I'm woefully incapable of retrieving it." He folds his arms and looks at his nails.

The thing is half buried in mud. "And what do I get for accomplishing such a lofty task?"

His hand drops and he sighs. "A big kiss."

I glance at the sky, begging the gods to spare me this strangers agonizing petulance.

The tadpole bends behind my eye and I wince. My mind is flooded with vague notions of fear and paranoia. The man is tadpoled and by the gods, his mind is a carnival of suffering. I focus, trying to pull myself free from his thoughts.

He clutches his head. "What the... get out of my head!"

I’m suddenly bodied by a whole entire twink. He pushes us both to the ground, dagger at my throat.

"Out! Now!"

He nicks my neck as I pry the blade from his hand.

Shadowheart grabs him and drags him off me.

"Unhand me!" He writhes in her grasp.

She fights to restrain him. "You're a madman!"

He kicks off her and rolls to his feet, standing low and pulling another dagger from his boot.

The man has knives hidden in every nook and cranny. I sit up, touching my neck and looking at the blood on my fingers.

He points his blade. "You fucking bastard! I'm not going to let you violate me again!"

"It was not intentional!" I bark. "Tymora's tits..."

"Wasn't it?" He steps back as I climb to my feet.

"No," I say. "I have no interest in participating in whatever fresh Hells are floating around in your mind."

"Excuse me!"

Shadowheart steps between us. "Perhaps we should all calm down before someone gets stabbed again."

I grunt and hand him his dagger, hilt first.

He hesitates but takes it.

"Vash Neel."

"Gesundheit," he says, turning the blade in his hand before carefully tucking it away. He dangles his hand in front of me. "Astarion. A pleasure."

I glance down at it. Soft and pale. The whispers hum in my ears and my fingers twitch. I snatch it and pull him in, headbutting him in the fucking forehead.

He staggers back and grips the bridge of his nose. "Nnngh!" He taps his nostrils, checking for blood. His jaw tightens. "Are we even?"

His scowl could cut glass.

I blink and slowly tuck my hands in my pockets. "...Yes."

Not ideal.

"Good." He sniffs and looks down at his satchel. "Could you-"

I grab it and shove it into his arms.

The mud coats him. He holds out his arms as it drips from his sleeves. He pulls a kerchief in a feeble attempt to clean himself.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." I walk and Shadowheart follows.

"You're excused." He jogs up to me, still wiping his shirt. "So, what do you know about these tadpoles?"

"They'll turn us into illithids before long. We have seven days."

"Seven-" He's caught in a fit of coughing. He taps his fist on his chest. "That's exactly what they do, isn't it? Seven days. With my luck I'm surprised we haven't turned already. Are you sure that's right?"

"Yes, I'm certain."

"...well, that's painfully inconvenient."

I glance down at him, flooded with images of his rotting body.

• Day 1: The skin goes pale. His body begins to cool, Livor Mortis and Rigor Mortis set in.
• Days 2-6: The skin turns green, then marbles and blisters. Gut bacteria begin to break down the body cavity. It produces methane and hydrogen sulfide. The body swells. Fluids begin to leak from the corpse.
• Days 5-11: The skin turns black. Liquefaction continues as cells erode due to lack of oxygen. Maggots are typically present at this stage.
• Days 10-20: The bones shine ivory as they poke through. What remains of the soft tissue sloughs away and is consumed by time.

The man looks half dead as it is. Genuinely.

He's alone. Good at taking down large threats. Has knives. "You can travel with us if you'd like."

"I'm glad you offered. I didn't want to have to haunt the edges of your camp while I followed you regardless. I'm not missing out on getting this whole thing handled."

Trees shade the trail as we make our way further inland. The smell of burning wreckage lingers, and there's an annoying mewling in my ears. I realize Astarion hasn't stopped talking this entire time.

"...It's been a tenday since I've had a moment's peace."

"Likewise," I say, pointedly.

"I work as a magistrate in Baldur's Gate. Things have been so chaotic lately, with Duke Ravenguard still dealing with Elturel." He fidgets with his fingers. "And now this. Kidnapped and infected." He scoffs and shakes his head.

"You're a magistrate?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Lots and lots of paperwork." He waves me off.

We pass a few more pieces of wreckage that are scattered across the valley. Something shifts in the air and touches my mind. It hums behind my eyes. My vision narrows. Everything goes black.

"Ser! Ser! Are you okay?"

The moment my hand lands on its hilt, I am tackled by two of my soldiers. They grapple my sword from me and begin to drag me back. I grit my teeth and pull myself forward, just enough to catch her fingers. I draw my dagger and bring it down on her head.

Silver blood coats me. Shadowheart and Astarion release me and fall backward.

Astarion lands dramatically on his side. "Ah!" He carefully lifts himself, pressing his hand into his face. "The Hells!" His voice softens. "Not again."

"That illithid." Shadowheart croaks. "It must have got to our heads." She stares into the middle distance. "I saw myself as a holy knight."

I sit up, gripping my knees. Fixated on the illithid with my dagger in its head.

Astarion rolls his eyes. "A holy knight. It's bad enough we're traveling with a paladin." He sighs. "I saw myself as a magistrate again. The banality is infuriating." He thumbs something in his pocket. He blinks and turns to me. "Please tell me you saw something interesting at least."

"Nothing more than busy work." I pull my dagger, wiping it on my pants before tucking it away.

"Busy work." He looks down at the dead illithid with pursed lips. "What kind of paladin are you supposed to be, again?"

"I didn't say. I don't know." I get up and walk past the corpse.

He follows. "You don't know? How do you not know what kind of paladin you are?"

"I..." I glance at Shadowheart. "I don't have any memories of my life before waking up on the nautiloid."

He throws a hand in the air. "Great. Our fearless leader is an amnesiac."

"When did I become the leader?"

"The moment you said, a paladin." He repeats my words in a stupid voice.

I lean down and speak gently. "It's for the best, then."

He meets my eye. "Don't let it go to your head, darling."

I smile and tap a healing light into his forehead. The lump that had grown vanishes. "I promise."

Astarion brushes his fingers across his forehead, then he grabs my arm. "Do you hear that?"

A grinding noise rises from up the trail.

Shadowheart steps next to us. "There." She points to a flickering light along the cliffside.

Before I can take a step, she places a hand on my shoulder. "I was pointing it out so we could avoid it. It's nothing to do with us."

I shrug them both off. "You two are quite handsy." I straighten my coat. "I just want to understand what's going on."

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Well, I'll go fetch the tea and biscuits while you find out what its name is."

I walk. Astarion's voice mutters behind me.

"It seems we're about to lose our meat shield. All brawn. No brains."

The anomaly appears to be a corrupted sigil. It swirls and snaps with the Weave. My eyes narrow and I bend down, trying to peer inside. A hand pops out and collides with my face.

"Oh!" A voice echoes from the hole. "Pardon me, are you okay?"

I run a palm across my face and go silent.

"The tired wizard could use some help getting free, though. If you would be so kind."

Something shifts and the voices rise again. Rip. Tear. Cut. Take... hand. Bring it. I track the waving arm, then snatch his wrist. My grip grows tight.

"Perfect! That's a good grip! You should be able to pull me out!"

Reaching into my coat, my fingers land on the pommel of my dagger. Someone grabs my shoulders. Astarion. He leans in. "You're not going to let the howling death hole eat the wizard, are you? Pull, you oaf!"

I blink and grip the arm with both hands, bracing my footing. I pull, but his hand is slick with sweat. I lose my grip and fall back onto the dirt.

Astarion and Shadowheart stand over me.

"Well, it was a valiant effort," she says, before walking off.

I shift to my elbows. "Astarion. Get your kerchief and tie our hands together."

"No, thank you, darling. I'm not into bondage."

I stare at him, then gesture toward the disembodied arm.

"Oh, that hand! Gladly."

We dry off his hand, and I try to get a better grip as Astarion secures our wrists. I pull, and the man shifts. He slips out of the anomaly and lands next to me.

"Mystra's mercy!" He dusts himself off and I cut us free from the kerchief.

Astarion picks it up and scowls at me. "Property damage."

The wizard lifts himself, joints popping. "Awfully generous of you. You've done more than you know." He rubs his wrist. "Gale of Waterdeep, wizard of renown! Eh... I think."

I stand and hold out my hand. "Vash Neel."

Astarion slaps my hand out of the air. "We'll have no more of that."

My nostrils flare as I focus back on Gale. "Does a wizard of renown know how to extract illithid tadpoles?"

He breathes through his teeth. "You're infected as well?" He rubs his beard. "Very interesting."

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

"No. I've never been to this region before."

There is a beat of silence between the three of us. Astarion glances at the dirt on his shoe, and I see Shadowheart waiting at the edge of a bend in the trail.

"Well," he says. "Since we share the same condition, I'd like to offer my services as a... wizard of renown... and hopefully we can find a cure together." He glances at Astarion. "Let me get that for you." A purple light glows from his fingertips, and with a wave of his hand, the mud that coats Astarion vanishes. "Better? Prestidigitation. One of the finer cantrips, if I do say so myself."

Astarion looks at his pristine garb. "Hm. Yes, you'll do." He glances up at me with his cool red eyes. "We're keeping him."

I follow him as we head toward Shadowheart.

Gale smiles with a vague sense of pride. "Glad I could help."

The group titters behind me. I scan the road and spot a clearing along the riverbank. An ideal spot to camp. If I can get my head clear today, I'll rest there for the night. Then I can address the matter of myself. The idea of being aimless fills me with more dread than the damned tadpole.

Frantic voices echo against the earthen walls that line the road. Two tiefling scouts stand arguing beneath a crude cage hanging from a rocky outcropping. A soldier is trapped within.

"What is she, Damays? Some sort of hobgoblin?"

"I think it's another one of those Githyanki raiders. The ones Zorru mentioned."

"The ones who killed Yul?"

"Keep your distance and be on your guard."

The man, Damays, spots us coming. "Nymessa, look! Another refugee."

Nymessa approaches, looking me over. "Gods, you're a mess. The roads from Elturel have not been kind to you, have they?"

Damays steps up behind her and takes her by the shoulder. "Forgive her, she can be a bit brash sometimes."

"Right..." I look down at her. "Brash."

Shadowheart and Gale come up behind me, while Astarion leans against a tree with an audible sigh.

I nod toward the water. "Do you know what river this is? We're trying to get our bearings."

Nymessa scratches the back of her neck. "The Chionthar. You must be quite lost if you didn't know that."

"Quite. I'm also looking for a healer. Do you know if there is a village nearby that might be able to aid me and my companions?" I glance up at their captive. Gods. It's Lae'zel. My eyes go flat as I turn back to the tieflings.

Damays hesitates. "Yes. Just around the bend is a druid's grove. The entrance is covered in ivy, inside, you will be able to find Nettie. She should be able to help."

"Wonderful." I nod toward Lae'zel. "I'll be taking you prisoner, as well."

"What? No! That's out of the question. The Githyanki are too dangerous. We've lost a couple of scouts to them already. We can't risk her escaping. She'll only bring more."

"T'chk!" Lae'zel holds the bars of the cage as it sways from her shifting weight. "Of course they fell to the might of our silver swords! I'd expect nothing less."

Damays walks up to the hanging cage. "Quiet! I'll not have you disrespecting our dead!"

"They'd have my respect if they were still alive!"

"We'll have your tongue for that!"

My hand lands on Damays' shoulder and his eyes snap to mine. His jaw is tight and the spade of his tail flicks.

My grip grows tight. "Brother... go."

"If you're going to defend her then you're no better than the rest."

"Am I?" I reach for the hilt of my greatsword. As I pull it free, Damays staggers back.

"Nymessa, run!"

They stumble down the path leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind.

"Get me down!" Lae'zel spits.

"Where are your manners?" I move beneath the cage, studying it. "I just saved your life. Again."

She lifts her chin. "What do you mean by again?"

I raise my greatsword. "You would have never survived the nautiloid without me. I deserve a little gratitude."

She shifts her feet, eyes tracking my blade. "Your subordination was admirable, but you have not yet earned a pat on the head for doing your duty."

"Watch your feet." I cut the rope that secures the base of her cage. It breaks apart and she spills onto the ground in a clatter of silver armor.

She rolls to her feet with a grimace. "...finally." She sputters, clutching whatever dignity she has left. "It seems you are more useful than I thought."

"Am I? And what about you? Trapped in a cage by a couple of scouts. Where's your sword?"

"You were not there! It was an ambush. I did not assume your people had the wits for such contraptions."

"Of course. Your pride got in the way, and it nearly cost you your life."

She pushes her way past us, stooping by some shrubs. The Hells-sword was tangled under several thick, gnarled branches.

I shake my head before turning to Astarion and Gale. "This is Lae'zel, she helped Shadowheart and I escape the Nautiloid."

"We don't have time for this." She growls. "We must find a cure for these parasites. We must find a creche!"

I sheath my greatsword. "And a creche is...?"

Gale folds his arms thoughtfully, glancing at Lae'zel. "If I'm not mistaken, it's a training facility."

"Yes, and much more," she says. "Most importantly, it is where we will find a zaith'isk."

Gale shakes his head. "Zaith'isk?"

"It is a machine that was made to extract illithid tadpoles. We must find one at once."

He presses his lips thin. "Do you think a creche would care to help us? If I recall correctly, your people aren't exactly welcoming to outsiders."

"You are with me. If you assist me in finding a creche, I will ensure that you will be cured. You have my word."

I look down the path, the dust from Damays and Nymessa hasn't settled yet. "The refugees mentioned Zorru. We can speak to him and Nettie while we're in the Grove. Promising leads."

Lae'zel scoffs. "The only way we can be purified is with a zaith'isk. Any other venture will be a waste of time."

"We will not leave any stone unturned." My voice bites at her. "If you think you can go it alone, then be my guest."

She stares me down before storming past us.

Dust clouds and githyanki indignity.