Sazza is milling about, sticking close to the branding station.

"Boss! How did it go?" Her tone of excitement is reflected in the eyes of the other goblins she'd been speaking with.

"My business is private, Sazza. Don't overstep. Priestess Gut will be busy in her chambers for some time. Be sure not to disturb her."

The goblins nod and mutter amongst themselves. Sazza gives a slight nod of deference. "Apologies! Won't happen again." She looks at the others before turning back to me. "What's next on the list, Boss? Ready to meet the Drow?"

"Yes, I'm ready. Lead the way."

She scurries deeper into the temple.

Chanting rises from through the calamity of goblin occupation. As we ascend a short flight of stone steps we hear chanting rise from the back of the temple.

The chamber beyond the landing has a crumbling floor that empties out into a cage that houses two large spiders. Bones of various people and animals line the walls in dry piles.

A guttural clicking passes between them as one turns toward me.

Goblin guards march over stone walkways that still stand, crossing the chamber safely above the spider pit. A guard approaches Sazza. I glance past them to see a gathering in a ceremonial chamber just beyond the pit.

"Oi. These stragglers from Moonrise? I didn't hear nothing from the True Souls about any visitors." The goblin guard waves a crossbow at us.

Sazza pushes the crossbow to the side. "Careful Gibbin. Thems are True Souls, too! You don't want to anger the Absolute by nicking one of'em."

"More True Souls?" He keeps his crossbow low while studying us. "A-Alright. If you say so. Just watch yer step." He says with a stiff nod before swiftly toddling off.

I ignore the guard and lean down. "Sazza, who is that?" In the center of the gathering is a large battle worn hob goblin. He's standing on a dais, looming over an illithid corpse. A familiar blade wound oozes silver blood from the illithids head.

Sazza beams with pride. "That's True Soul Dror Ragzlin! He's a mighty warrior. Been leadin' raids to keep our coffers stocked and bellies full."

"What is Ragzlin doing?"

"He found that dead squid on the beach. He's tryin' to raise it to see if it can help us find the weapon."

My hair stands on end, and I immediately blow past her toward Ragzlin.

Sazza's voice echoes after me. "Boss, I don't think we should interrupt!"

Ragzlin is clumsy as he tries to raise the illithid from the dead. The attempt fails and the illithid remains still. He shouts belligerently; I don't catch what he says.

He looks up from the corpse and turns his focus to me, slipping into my thoughts. From him I get the overwhelming taste of booze and bile. It hits me in the back of my throat, sickening and almost unbearable.

A single thought passes into my mind, dull and unforced.

True Soul.

He pulls back and grunts. "And a devil, too."

I try to shake the taste of his vomitus hangover with a grimace. "Putting on a show for the tribe?"

Ragzlin points at the body. "I bet anything this squid saw who survived. It didn't just die on the crash like the rest. It was killed. Whoever was snooping around has to know where the weapon is."

Astarion grabs my arm, hissing into my ear. "This is your fuck up you know. I'm not helping you out of it."

"We're both fucked if I don't fix this." I murmur, pushing him off me. "Now, be quiet."

I focus back on Ragzlin. "I can make this a hell of a lot easier for you. I killed the squid."

Ragzlin looks at me for a moment and sizes me up.

"I was sent by the Absolute on the very same mission. I reached the wreckage before your scouting parties had a chance to rummage around and ruin everything."

Ragzlin face grows tight. "You were sent from Moonrise?"

"...Yes, and I've already interrogated this one." I nod to the oozing illithid.

Ragzlin's eyes go wide. "What did it say? Where is the weapon? The survivors?"

"It gave me nothing. Just another squid on the beach."

Ragzlin snorts, his anger rising. He climbs down from the dais, picking up the mind flayer and throwing it into the spider pit. "Useless!"

He points at me with a wild fury. "Go report to Minthara! Tell her everything. She's probably right, the survivors ran off to that gods forsaken grove. Maybe you can find the damned place!"

I dip my head and promptly exit the ceremonial chamber.

Sazza is sitting on the edge of the broken stone floor. A few other goblins surround her, chattering loudly. They are all looking at the mind flayer's body crumpled over a pile of bones below. The moment she sees me, she jumps to her feet, running over to me. "A squid! Boss, did you really kill a squid?"

"Yes, Sazza. Nothing short of what it deserved."

She snaps her fingers. "Hells' teeth! That must have been some fight! Maybe when you're done, you can share the story?"

Astarion's lips curl with mockery. I try my best to ignore his face. "Minthara. I'm ready now."

She snaps her focus back to me. "Right! This way." She toddles towards the door, opening it for me.

We enter a chamber, thick with candle smoke and the faint stench of mildew. Broken bookshelves line the walls, and a purple orb hovers ominously with a faint, unsettling hum.

A scrying eye.

I throw my hood over my head, avoiding its gaze.

A slender drow is leaning over a large wooden table, berating a subordinate. Battle-hardened and donning webbed armor, her voice is commanding and dulcet.

Sharp thoughts run like blades down my back.

They feel... uncalibrated, and I become unsettled.

Brynna stands across the table from Minthara, hands clutched, quiet.

My fingers twitch.

Minthara's voice rises with frustration. "I don't care if he is a True Soul, he doesn't outrank me! If Andrick was careless enough to get killed by this imbecile, then maybe he deserved it. I need you out there searching for that weapon!" Her voice fills the room with unchallenged authority.

Brynna is sunken, her eyes measuring the width of her feet.

Minthara sees us enter and shifts her focus to me. The moment our eyes meet, she surges into my thoughts and is instantly assaulted by the ever-lingering images of death.

From her mind, I am fed images of Crab Bitch. A woman with pale shifting skin and even paler eyes. A long, annoying braid swings heavy down her back. My mind twists with a sense of resentment, pity, and reluctant obligation. As if she were a child I once tended to.

The connection fades and Minthara is quiet for a moment before addressing me. "You must be the True Soul who's been undermining my authority?"

Her cold voice laps at my ears as I approach. Brynna turns slowly, seeing me come up from behind. Her eyes go wide, shuffling aside. She never allows less than a few meters between us, and she never takes her eyes off me.

"I've come from Moonrise. I was selected to assist in the search for the weapon."

She shifts with wary skepticism. "Selected? You are a weapon. Nothing more. Your role will be to help me mount an attack on those creatures in the grove."

"No, I will not. I have infiltrated the grove. Such operations require a scalpel." My nose curls in disdain. "Not a hammer."

She goes quiet, and the hate in her crimson eyes could easily kill me if she weren't so deeply entrenched in this Absolute bullshit. "You infiltrated the grove?"

"I am the savior that protected them from a reckless goblin attack. Who organized that skirmish?"

She slowly lifts herself from the table, eyes narrowed. "It was a militant response to the adventurers that slipped past our defenses." Her voice grows sharp. "None of that is your concern! A hammer cracks a nut faster than a scalpel, and I have run out of patience! The Absolute demands satisfaction!"

"Then why did they send me, Nightwarden?" My tail lashes. "If I had known you were going to be this belligerent, I would have rejected the mission."

She carefully steps around the table and aims a single word at me. "Grovel."

I feel the spell rush through me, and my body seizes before trying to bend. I am able to stave off the effects, but only just.

She snatches my face with clawed fingers, digging her nails into my cheeks.

"If you've infiltrated the grove, that means they trust you. Tomorrow morning, we will mount an attack. You will open the gate, and we can finally burn that wretched place to the ground. The weapon will be found!"

She shoves my face as she releases me from her cruel grip.

I rub my face. The image of a smoldering grove nestles in the craters of my mind.

The bittersweet smell of burning bodies.

The final cries of the last to die.

The silence that breathes.

They would die thinking I'm their hero.

Minthara finally gives me the faintest smile. "Your thoughts linger on only one thing, and you are here to fulfill that purpose. To kill in Her name. This is the only reason you are here."

"My orders on how and when I kill come only from Her. As of now, the grove remains untouched until my mission is complete. I will return to give the word, and only then do we march."

She scoffs, incredulously. "I will not delay my orders simply because some upstart wants to play village king to a pack of cretins."

"And I will carry out my objective in Her name, despite your obstinance."

Our eyes lock as her ire creates a pocket of silence that settles in the dank air of the chamber. "You invoke her name against me? I will not be spoken down to, iblith." She carefully tracks my face. "Why did you come here?"

"I'm looking for the druid, Halsin. He was party to the adventurers that slipped into this camp." My eyes narrow. "Under your nose."

"There was no druid-" Her eyes go wide and she sharply turns to a goblin subordinate. "When were you going to tell me the bear was a druid?!" Her words are a river of steel, cutting into the goblin's last threads of life. "Throw him in the spider pits. Now!"

The guards jump, closing in on the condemned subordinate, pulling him away kicking and screaming. "No mistress! Please! I-I thought he was just a bear!!!"

Sazza watches, elbows tucked into her palms, jaw clenched.

"A bear?" I watch as they drag him out. "How can you be sure it's him?"

She grunts, barely looking at me. "Despite the fact the party was made up of clowns, they were no circus act. Of course the bear is the druid. Hiding in plain sight." She waves her hand dismissively. "If I'm wrong I've lost nothing in making the assumption."

"Nothing but a loyal subordinate."

"Loyalty means little if they are a detriment to the mission." She snaps. "Surely that's something a half-wit foulblood can understand."

A chill rushes through me, and I snatch her arm, pulling her into me. "Foulblood? Be careful, Nightwarden."

She strikes me across the face. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself!"

On instinct, I reach for her throat but feel the hum of the scrying eye behind me. The room falls silent and I stay my hand, though I am flooded with a howling anguish at my restraint.

She doesn't flinch, "do it, coward."

I slowly release her.

The moment she feels her arm freed, her fist slams into my face.

The sharp pain shoots from my nose down my neck. I grow still, holding my hand near my face as I gather my senses. Blood trickles down my lip, the taste of warm iron spreads across my tongue. I sniff and stretch my jaw before glancing down at her. "You'll do well to remember that broken soldiers cannot carry a commander to glory."

"Shut up!" She snatches my collar, pulling me into her. "I should rip your cock off for treating me with such disrespect! Only by Her grace will you be spared my wrath. Do not cross me again, or not even She can protect you from my vengeance."

Her nostrils flare, but something happens behind her eyes. A mask slips for the briefest moment, her face falls, then her composure is quickly reclaimed.

"If you must speak to the druid, you can find him in the worg pens. Question the ingrate. Complete your 'mission' quickly and return to me when you're ready to march. Do you understand me?"

She releases me.

My skin crawls as I watch her return to the other side of the table, looming over her many maps before waving me off. "If you recover the damned weapon, bring it to me. I wish to be done with this damned place. We can return it to General Thorm and receive fresh orders."

Thorm. Through the howling voices in my head, the name stirs something else deep within me. The name sounds like a war drum, and I get the phantom scent of dust and rot.

She locks onto me one last time. "I do not want to see your face again until then."

My body aches as I try to maintain my composure. I glance at my company who are lining the wall. Witnesses to the bitter spectacle. I brush past them, throwing my hood back and making my way out. They follow as I navigate the halls to the gods-forsaken worg pens so I can speak to some incompetent druid bastard.

I try to quieten my thoughts, something that is becoming an unwelcomed habit.

Always overwhelmed.

Always too many voices.

Always seething.

They do not relent. I can only dampen them enough for my sanity to rise to the surface for a breath before being pushed under once more.

I am drowning.

How long can I keep this up?

The pattering of feet comes up behind me, and something tugs on my cloak. I stop abruptly. My focus snaps to the intrusion. Sazza.

"Is there anything else you needed from me, Boss?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, mustering enough strength to address her properly. "N-No. You did very well in bringing me here." Goblins. Goblins... The data from the tablet on the Nautiloid bleeds through. Treasure for services rendered. Of course. I drop to one knee and pull a dagger from my cloak. "Take this, for your troubles."

Her eyes go wide and she grabs at it eagerly. It's nothing more than a standard iron dagger, but it's well maintained and a good size for her. It still smells of linseed oil from its recent polish.

"Hells' teeth, I've never seen anything shine like this! I can see my own face in it!" She swings it a few times, the blade whistling through the air. "Praise the Absolute! Thanks, Boss!"

She scurries away, shouting toward her gawking clan. "The spider pits ain't nothing against this beauty!"

I get to my feet, straightening my cloak.

She most certainly won't do anything constructive with that weapon.

Shadowheart is hovering close to me. "Awfully kind of you. Do you think that was a good idea? You're down a dagger."

A discontented grunt escapes me. "I have plenty."

"T'chk." Lae'zel's voice grates at my thinning patience. "You value your weaponry so little? Each blade is sacred, and you'd toss one aside just to placate a servant."

I snap, my voice raised and pained. "I'm not in the mood, Lae'zel!"

She stops and tightens her lips.

"Where the hells are these damned worg pens?"

"Vash." Shadowheart gently runs her hand under my arm and begins to walk with me. "Let's find a place to sit for a moment."

I am all but dragged forward before accepting her guidance. She opens the door to an empty room. It looks like it used to be a chapel. Pews line the room on both sides, and a crumbling altar of Selûne sits at the forefront, with a toppled statue laying shattered on the floor.

Shadowheart hesitates, before seeing the shattered statue. "Appropriate." She mutters.

I wriggle free from her grasp and lay across a pew, resting my arm over my eyes, taking a heavy breath.

Astarion's mewling voice washes over me. "This place smells like dead rats. And there they are." His footsteps hush across the gritty stone floor.

"Lift your head." Shadowheart gently wedges her fingers beneath me, and I peek out, rising slightly. She slides onto the bench, placing my head in her lap.

Astarion sits behind us. Arms folded, leaning over the backrest of our pew. "Are you going to have a meltdown every time some refuses to cow to your little scary paladin act?"

I stare up at him. "I did not know this is who I was." I feel a heat fill my face. "It's not ideal, honestly."

"Mmm. Not ideal."

Lae'zel leans against the door frame, rolling her eyes. "We don't have time for this. Your lack of discipline could jeopardize our mission. We need to move."

"Quiet, Lae'zel." Shadowheart says sharply.

Astarion purses his lips. "She has a point. How long are we planning on sitting around, waiting for our noble paladin to get his head straight?"

Shadowheart sits straight. "I think it's best if you both leave for now. Maybe make yourselves useful and try to find the worg pens."

"Gladly." Lae'zel promptly marches out.

Astarion glances down at me. "Don't take too long darling. I don't want to be stuck with the seething gith all day." He pats the top of my head. "There, there." Before dragging his whole hand across my face, just to be extra annoying no doubt.

I swipe him away.

Shadowheart watches his leaves before releasing a sigh of exasperation. "What an... interesting band of strangers we've managed to get ourselves stuck with."

"Please, we're no better. Look at me. Needing to be coddled for something I don't completely understand."

Her smile coils with a teasing lilt. "Not your worst quality."

"Hah." I close my eyes, folding my fingers over my chest. I feel myself settling far better than I was before. "Thank you, Shadowheart."

She strokes my hair, and we sit quietly for a moment.

"...Are you really going to tell the goblins to march on the grove?"

"That remains to be seen." I mutter. "Now that I have command of the march, we can take our time to understand what Halsin can offer. After that, we can decide on whether or not following this godsforsaken cult is necessary."

Shadowheart hesitates. Her fingers settle on the side of my face.

I lean into her touch. "It's a cruel fate that the refugees survived Avernus only to die in these wilds with an impotent hope. Regardless of what happens, they will be claimed. Who tallies their souls hardly matters."

"How can you say that about your own kin? I'm not saying I disagree with your pragmatism, but regardless of your oath, wouldn't you feel a duty to protect them?"

"Do you want me to prioritize my duty to them over my duty to you?"

She's quiet for a moment. "No... of course not. I have faith that you'll get us through this."

I open my eyes, quiet for a moment before lifting myself from her lap. I take her hand, looking at her thin scarred fingers in my palm. "I'm grateful you have faith in me. It's something I've tried to foster between us." I dip my head, leaning into her. "I want to have faith in you, too."

"What do you mean? Have I not been competent and reliable by your side?"

"Competent, reliable, yes. But not honest."

She bristles. "How have I not been honest?"

"Your contempt for Selûne. Reasonable though it may be, it is not typical."

Her face falls, and I continue. "You've avoided telling me about your past, though I've shared what I can with you. It's been an inequitable partnership."

She begins to speak quickly. "You know I don't remember much. I'm not trying to be dishonest, but Shar's secrets must be protected." A blink of black light breaks through her skin and she gasps, flinching.

My brows lift, and she becomes steeped in dread. "No. No, that's not-"

"Shadowheart."

She falls silent, fixated on the wound on the back of her hand.

Her hand rests in mine, and my thumb traces the side of her palm. "Are you alright?"

"Gods..." She murmurs. "Ignore that. Ignore everything I just said."

"Allow me the dignity to show you that you can trust me. We will make it through this."

She glances up at me before resting her head on my shoulder. "Perhaps you're right. Just... don't tell the others. Not yet at least."

"It's not my place."

She sighs as the air settles around us.

"Thank you."