Trigger Warnings: Threats of violence, psychological manipulation, grief and traumatic loss, cult indoctrination, mind control, body horror themes.

The euphoria from last night's bite lingers, but aside from "feeling good," it doesn't seem to have unlocked any real benefit for me.

A pity.

Still, Astarion seemed chipper this morning—more than eager to put his hands on me to admire his work.

The tension, the attention, was tantalizing.

I don't know why, but my teeth have begun to ache. Not from a wish to be bitten, but from a desire to bite.

I left camp alone, making my way to the Hollow, quickly finding the makeshift prison where Sazza is kept.

As I duck inside, I see a woman with a crossbow pointed directly at her.

"No!"

I charge forward, knocking the crossbow aside as she shoots.

Sazza jumps—the bolt whistling right past her head and striking the stone wall behind her. "Hell's teeth!"

I bark at the woman. "What in the hells are you doing!?" My voice echoes through the cavern, edged with wild frustration.

I swear to the fucking gods I will strangle every single one of these morons if I have to.

She looks at me with fury, but I register a deep grief within her.

Of course. Grief. A muse to the most idiotic ideas.

She bites back, not masking her feelings. "They killed my brother! They killed Kanon!" She searches me in disbelief. The edge to her voice softens, but only just. "He was all I had." Her tail drags briefly, before the hatred rises once again. "What business is it of yours to stand in the way of my vengeance!?"

I lean into her. "Her fate is not yours to decide! Erratic behavior like this isn't going to bring your brother back. Worse still, it makes you a liability. You're not singular in how you feel—but most people manage not to make it everyone else's problem."

Her chin curls in frustration as tears begin to well up in her eyes. "I'm not selfish for wanting to take action! It's what he deserves."

I press, speaking through my teeth. "There are things happening here that are bigger than your grief. Find a better way to mourn and do it somewhere out of the way."

She falters, her posture stiffening in defiance.

"What is your name?"

Her lips turn inward. "Arka."

"Arka." With a measured tone, I step aside, showing her the door. "Get out."

She stares at me with anguish. "We’ve lost so many. Yet now, I can't catch my breath. Every time I think of his body—" She stops speaking as her shoulders fall, still clutching her crossbow. The tears finally spill forth as she holds my stare.

"UGH!" She finally storms out, but the moment her fingers touch the doorframe, she collapses—knees giving out beneath her.

A few tieflings grab her. A man in a long tunic meets my gaze, straight lipped and forlorn.

The comfort they offer her is gentle, nurturing, and offered far too late. They bring her to her feet and walk her away.

I watch quietly, feeling my hand twitch, before turning my attention to Sazza.

She sizes me up, sneering in a mocking tone. "Oooooh, big boss is my protector now, isn't he? You must be a gift sent from the Absolute."

I lean an arm on the cage and peer down at her through the rusted bars. "Sazza."

Her face falls into an expression of pure disdain. "And horns is callin' me by my name? You think we're going to be friends now?"

I test the waters with my supposed title. "Shut up. You're speaking to a True Soul."

Sazza's demeanor immediately shifts. "Yeh? A... True Soul? The Absolute really did send you to me?" There's a wariness in her eyes. Fear.

"Yes, she will always provide. I need you to take me to your camp and introduce me to the other True Souls. We have business to conduct."

She snorts, crossing her arms defensively. "Sure! I'll just snap my fingers and phase straight through these bars."

I wrap my fingers around a rusted bar, testing the door. I glance at the lock. It doesn't seem particularly well fortified. "Leave that part to me. Do we have a deal, or not?"

She tilts her head up. "If you're really a True Soul, what are you doing here?"

"Scouting—and doing far better than your lot did."

Sazza stands up straight, looking embarrassed, her normal goblin snark drained away. "Okay, boss. If you can get me out, then I'll be more than happy to introduce you to my tribe."

I pat the top of the cage. "Fantastic. Sit tight, and I'll be back. I need to gather supplies before breaking you out."

"Be quick, before another tief tries to kill me!"

I leave her to marinate on our deal and make my way to Dammon's forge.

I feel the heat as I get closer. The smell of burning embers saturates the air, and I can hear the clinking of his hammer as he busies himself with his craft.

"Good morning, Dammon. Is Shadowheart's shield ready?" I begin to collect arrows and a few pieces of equipment that catch my eye.

"Vash! Yes, of course." Dammon wipes his hands with an ashen cloth, his brow sweating from the heat. "I've fortified this one to suit her needs. I'm confident it will hold up leagues better than the wooden one she currently has." He pulls a freshly worked shield from his inventory and proudly hands it to me.

I test the heft of it, feeling the balance and inspecting his craftsmanship. "Well done. I'm sure she'll be more than ready to bash some bastards in with it." I hand him the coin owed for the items.

Dammon laughs and gives a gracious nod. "Good luck on your adventure. After hearing about what happened to Aradin and his gang, I'm happy to provide all the help I can give. Take care of yourself."

As I turn, I collide with a body that had been standing far too close to me. The blonde woman.

She holds up her hands, nearly falling back off the steps of the forge. "Oh! I'm sorry! I was about to get your attention; I didn't mean to sneak up on you!"

How in the hells did I not hear her coming up behind me?

She offers an apologetic smile. "My name's Bex, and that's my husband, Danis." She points to her camp, and I see the man hovering over us on the platform.

He gives me a polite wave. "Nice to meet you, Ser!"

I am now engaged in small talk. I give them a warm smile. "Nice to meet you both. Call me Vash."

She leans in with a bit of mischief. "I heard you were going to take on the goblin camp. Do you really think your team can handle them?"

My gaze subtly travels across her body before meeting her eyes. "Are you worried?"

"Between the druids pushing us out and the dangers on the road, I don't see how we can make it to Baldur's Gate. Logistically, the odds are stacked against us." She tries not to show how deep her fear runs. "It's been hard to sleep at night. I'm sorry to say it, but you seem to be the only hope we have right now." She glances up at her husband. "Danis thought it might be best to speak with you, if only to ease my heart."

She's not naïve to the gravity of the situation, but desperate for hope all the same. A tricky place for the heart to be. "Are you asking me to tell you everything's going to be okay?"

She stares at me, and her cheeks grow tight. With a sigh she grips my arm and walks me over to a private corner of the Hollow, near the makeshift prison. She lowers her voice and leans into me. "I know you've spoken to Zevlor; you're working with him to help us. Whether you plan on dealing with the druids or the goblins, I don't really care. Either way, I want to help."

I look down at her, this little refugee with a pressing avidity. What help could she possibly offer? Would she even cooperate if given the chance? "...I have a plan, but it's a tad... unconventional."

She becomes puzzled, then a wry smile crosses her face. "If you wanted to stifle my curiosity, you're doing a shit job of it."

I scoff and take stock of her bravado before looking toward the prison. "Come with me, but promise you'll hear me out before passing judgement."

She follows my passing glance. "Please, it's all I want to hear right now." Her tail flicks with a fixed curiosity.

We walk to the entrance of the prison, and I nod toward Sazza. My voice dips low, murmuring between us. "I've traded favors with this one."

"Favors. With a goblin." She shows no signs of dissonance. "Judgement withheld. Continue."

"Bex. I'm going to sneak her out of the grove. In return, she'll vouch for me, ingratiating me to her tribe. It will be the quickest way to get close to the goblin leaders."

She looks at me sharply, surprised, but not alarmed. "You're going to cut the head off the serpent."

"Yes."

"That's-" Her brows crease. She appears to be working through the idea. "That's a very shrewd plan."

"Do you approve?"

She gives me a brief smile before her face falls once more. "Can you trust her to keep her word?"

"No. But I only need to get close enough. My team and I can manage whatever comes next." I know it's a lie, but given the tadpoles, our condition is as desperate as the refugees.

She stares inside the makeshift prison.

Sazza sees Bex peering in on her and flips her the bird.

Bex snorts. "Goblins." She turns her attention back to me. "It seems risky, but I understand the approach." A brief pause falls. "How do you plan on getting her out of here? The others likely won't be onboard with you taking her." I see a flicker of recognition, but she waits for my answer.

I'm beyond curious. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet. What's on your mind?"

"Wait here!" She grips my arm before running back to her camp, quickly returning with something loose clutched in her hand. "Here!" She presses a potato sack into my arms.

I stare at it a moment. "Thank you." I glance at her and the thoughts in my mind begin to narrow. Voices rush through me, intrusively, with vivid sexual desires tailed swiftly by a need to BITE.

I blink and look back down at the bag. The corner of my mouth twitches.

She gives me a playful grin. "Just walk out with her. If she can lie still enough, no one will question whether you're carrying turnips or goblins."

I listen intently, though the whispers still grip my mind. Her proposal is both simple and brilliant. I'd be a fool to do it any other way.

"So, we have a plan."

I fold the potato sack and tuck it into my cloak pocket. "You have my gratitude. I can't say I would have come up with something so damned practical."

She takes a deep breath and smiles. "Vash." She takes my hand into hers. "Take care of yourself. Precious few people have the nerve to walk brazenly into a goblin camp. I just..." Her lips turn upward, and a shroud of quiet suffering overcomes her. "I'm just so gods damned tired."

The words land heavy on me. She turns to leave and her tail brushes against me subtly... a gesture easily missed, but not accidental. A hint of chamomile lingers in the air.

Helpful indeed.

The prospect of her death is a waste, but she's right. The odds are stacked against them all.

It's like speaking to ghosts who don't know they're dead yet.

"Not the best shield I've held. A little heavy on the right, but it's still far better than what I had."

Shadowheart tests the heft of Dammon's shield on her arm, and after a few strikes through the air, she seems satisfied—swiftly strapping it to her back and continuing to get ready to head out.

I’m sitting on a log, sharpening one of my daggers with a whetstone, when Astarion plops himself next to me, tucking a dagger into his boot before pulling out his comb to preen.

"So, do you think I could visit your bed again tonight? Last night was fun, wasn't it?" His legs are crossed, and he's kicking his foot playfully.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lip. "It doesn't seem to have done much for me but rob me of a litre of blood."

Astarion gasps. "Nothing? Tsk. Gods forbid you do something for someone other than yourself. Besides—" He leans in on me, annoyingly. "It did something for you. You just don't want to admit it."

I glance at him before picking up a cloth soaked with linseed oil and running it over the blade. It shines with a mirror finish. I quickly tuck it into my cloak. "Are you ready to head out?"

He pouts. "Well, at least that wasn't a denial." He gets to his feet and sighs. "Yes, I'm ready, but I consider this a promise broken. You're being a real stick in the mud."

I stand and brush past him. "So desperate for instant gratification."

I hear him scoff as he tries to catch up with me. "Not desperate, but it is a preference of mine."

Shadowheart and Lae'zel follow suit as we make our way back to the Hollow.

We find Sazza in her cell, sitting quietly before spotting us. She abruptly stands and grips the bars of her cage.

"Oi, I've got an escort? I must be mighty important."

I nod to Astarion and he pulls out a lock pick, but hesitates, looking down at the keyhole and rolling his eyes. He lifts the door up from its wedged hinges and swings the door open.

I can't help but snort and lightly scratch my forehead. "Gods." I sigh and reach into my cloak pocket and pull the burlap sack from my cloak pocket.

Sazza steps out of the cage. "Praise the Absolute! Am I glad to be out—"

I swiftly grip my hand over her mouth and she grabs my wrist with a muffled cry and a grunt of irritation.

"Shut up, Sazza."

She struggles, kicking her feet as she loses balance against my hold. I turn my back to the door. Astarion and Shadowheart casually move into position to block the view of anyone who might be peeking in.

I wait for Sazza to calm herself, and once she gets her footing she finally falls still, and more importantly, silent.

"Do not speak, or the deal is off."

When I feel her nod in agreement, I carefully remove my hand. True to her... nod... she remains silent, slowly glancing back at me.

With a flick, I hold it open the potato sack at ground level for her. "Okay, get in."

Sazza watches me for a moment with a mixture of confusion and irritation before slowly climbing in the bag as told.

Shadowheart tosses in a few potatoes and turnips for texture. Once tied up, we swiftly begin to make our way through the Hollow.

As we pass by Bex and Danis' platformed camp, I see them sitting on crate, deep in conversation. Bex stops and puts a hand over her mouth, grabbing Danis' arm. They seem amused and watch as we drift by. I don't hold back the smirk, and before long we've cleared the Hollow and made our way out of the redoubt.

I set Sazza down along the trail, after rounding a bend, out of site from the guards on the parapets. I cut her free and she quickly stands and shades her eyes from the beaming sun before stretching her bones and savoring the open air. She finally looks up at me and cautiously opens her mouth. "C-can I speak now?"

"You may."

She lets out a large and dramatic exhale. "Praise the Absolute! Gods, am I glad to be free from that den of nutters."

"So? Lead the way." I gesture to the trail.

She waves her hand. "No worries, Boss, this way."

We head toward the abandoned village Andrick mentioned. She's taking us the right way, so far.

I glance down at her and break the silence. "How were you captured when your raiding party attacked?"

She doesn't look at me and speaks with a pang of disquiet. "I was sent ahead as a scout before the fight'n started. My duty was to scout, not to fight. So I waited until the fight'n was over before getting out of there. 'cept I didn't see the tiefs waitin' for me. That's when they nabbed me."

"Ah, a scout, not a fighter. I know that's a load of bollocks, you hid because you don't have a backbone."

She stops abruptly and stares at me, spitefully. I may be a True Soul, but there are limits to a goblin's patience.

I slow to a halt, looking back at her. "Come on Sazza, I'm just teasing you."

She lifts her chin, trying to mask her wounded pride. "Take it back, or you can deal with my tribe yourself!"

I walk back to her, kneeling to her level. "Sazza, you can't take my chiding seriously. You've more than proven your worth. You stood strong, even after being shot at by a crossbow. That bolt nearly nicked your head, and you didn’t even flinch.

You kept your devotion in the Absolute. Now you’re walking free in the sun.

You will continue to be blessed, so long as you maintain your faith in Her name."

The preaching drips from my tongue like a well-practiced script.

She looks me in the eye and then rolls her shoulders back. "At least you know what's what, horns." She grins at me and then walks past, leading the way once again.

Past the village we find ourselves approaching a checkpoint of goblin sentries.

I see ragged banners of tanned skins with a symbol painted in red. It's crude and smeared, but distinct. A hand, with the palm of a skull, framed by a triangle. I touch Sazza's shoulder. "These banners are a bit unkempt."

She looks at them and gives me a dutiful nod. "Don't worry Boss, I'll take care of it." Then she turns to the sentries. "Oi! You heard the True Soul! Ain't no one can see the symbol of the Absolute! Get'em cleaned up!"

The sentries grumble but one swiftly scurries off, muttering about red paint.

The symbol of the Absolute, not just a tribal emblem. I commit the image to memory—but it's another uncanny feeling of familiarity.

We smell the goblin camp before we see it, but as the temple of Selûne comes into view, Shadowheart begins to bristle. Her anxiety rises to the point where we can all feel her tadpole tugging at our minds.

I walk next to her and put a hand on her back. "Are you alright?"

"What?" she says abruptly. "Oh. Yes. It's just this place. Selûne." The word slithers from her lips like a poison.

"Yes? And?"

She looks at me sharply. "Don't tell me you've bought into that Moon Witch's lies. Whatever you've heard about her, it's nothing but lofty promises that lead only to ruin."

I study her, and my face softens. I never would have expected her to get so distressed over something so innocuous. My hand wraps around her shoulders and she leans into me.

We're quickly abandoned by Sazza, who runs across the bridge to the temple, eagerly mingling with her tribe. A raucous celebration is underway. I can smell the booze mixed with all manner of body fluids.

The moment we step foot on the bridge, we are overwhelmed by a psionic assault on our tadpoles.

I'm getting tired of things fucking with my head, this assault has laid me low.

"Gods!" I grip my head as my vision narrows into complete darkness.

I need to get this tadpole out of me!

Gods, the pain!

A vision is forced into my mind's eye. The silhouettes of three people. Some cunt, a jackass, and a bitch in crab pajamas.

They are presented to me like a proud cat offering their master a bird. But... I know them. I fucking know each one of these bastards, and yet nothing concrete comes forth. Only the notion. The gods-damned notion. Taunting my past once again. It's becoming maddening.

The voices that have been haunting me begin to scream wildly, and I clench my jaw, curling into myself on the ground. My arms clinging to my head desperately. Futile to stop an assault from within me.

At last, a new voice surges forth. She has power and speaks with an unsettling clarity above the chaos in my mind.

"These are my chosen. They speak for me. Find the prism and you will be worthy to stand by their side."

There is a pulse of energy that passes through me, pushing out that voice in my mind.

Slowly.

Agonizingly.

Everything grows quiet.

I finally open my eyes and look to see Shadowheart lying with the device in her hand. It pulses with psionic energy and burns bright red against the force of that voice.

My words are stilted as I lift myself. "Shadowheart. What is that thing?"

Shadowheart is limp on the ground, catching her breath. After the briefest moment, she draws it in and pushes herself to her feet. She clings to it, as if it were her very heart held between her fingers.

"I—I don't know. It just..." She looks at me, eyes lingering as if I might have the answers.

My composure slowly returns to me. "Where did it come from?"

Lae'zel pushes into the conversation. "You stole it from my people!"

Shadowheart, already on edge, begins to pulse with a dark divine power. "One step closer and I'll turn you into dust!"

Lae'zel balks at the prospect. "Tchk! I could take you down with my bare hands if I wanted to." She moves toward Shadowheart.

I snatch her hand in mine as she grips her hilt, pulling her back sharply. The blade's sheath rattling against her armor as she falls back into me, staggered. "Stop, the both of you! This is not the time nor the place for this."

My tone is sharp and commanding as I point at Shadowheart. "Put that damned thing away!"

The goblin sentries are all too drunk to see straight.

A mercy.

I lower my voice but hold the weight of my tone. "We can't start bickering over this now, but this does warrant further discussion. Let's finish our business here and address this in more depth tonight."

I see relief settle over Shadowheart as she tucks the device away. "Gladly."

Lae'zel shoves me away with prejudice.

"Do not touch me, Istik!"

Her voice cuts with an edge as she shoots me a piercing glare—but I catch a second glance. Softer.