Sazza is sitting on the edge of the broken stone floor, overlooking the spider pit. The moment she sees us she jumps to her feet. "Gods, Boss! You killed a squid?"
Astarion gives me a mocking glance, knowing full well the damn thing was helpless. I ignore him. "Yes, they are tenacious. I'm ready to be introduced to Minthara."
Sazza's spirits lift. "That's right! Follow me!" She begins shuffling toward a chamber tucked away in the corner of the sanctuary.
As we enter, it's evident the cult fashioned this space to be a war room. At the far end of the chamber there is a stone table. A slender drow is leaning over it, berating a subordinate. Battle-hardened and donning webbed armor, her voice is commanding and incredibly dulcet.
Scream at me. Step on me. Call me a wretch.
I am immediately roused by her presence in a way that feels... uncalibrated for the moment.
I quickly realize the subordinate is Brynna, the Novice who escaped me yesterday.
"I don't care if he was 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, deflated, her eyes measuring the width of her feet. She glances up at Minthara when she hears Andrick's name but catches sight of me over her shoulder. She goes pale and steps back. Minthara follows her gaze 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. I focus, collecting any notion I can from this brief connection. The Bitch has a long annoying braid, pale shifting skin and even paler eyes. My mind twists with a sense of resentment, pity, and reluctant obligation. As if she were a child I used to tend to.
The connection fades and Minthara is quiet for a moment before addressing me. "You must be the True Soul who's come to undermine my authority?"
Her cold voice laps at my ears as I approach the table, standing opposite her. "I've come from Moonrise. I was selected to assist in the search for the weapon."
She shifts with wary skepticism. "Selected?" She seems to be taking personal offense to my presence. "You are a weapon. Nothing more. Your role will be to help me mount an attack on those creatures in the grove."
I hold up my hand. "I have infiltrated the grove. I am currently working amongst the people there."
She looks at me stunned. "You?! Infiltrated the grove?"
"I am the savior that protected them from a reckless goblin attack. Who organized that skirmish?"
She narrows her eyes at me. "It was a militant response to the Adventurers that slipped past our defenses. But none of that is your concern. If you've infiltrated the grove, that means they trust you. Very good. Tomorrow morning, you will open the gate for us so that we can mount an attack. I don't care if we have to burn that whole place to the ground, we will find the weapon they're hiding!"
The image she paints in my mind is tantalizing in a way she could never understand. I close my eyes. Burning men. Slaughtered children. I murmur a silent prayer. "They would die thinking I'm their hero." I could watch their faith in me sink into terror as I slaughter them one by one. Something profane in my heart grasps desperately for a sanguine future. A silent future. Blissful.
However, none of this takes into account my survival.
I pull out of the cradle of euphoria and come back to my senses, though the feeling of pleasure lingers. "The Absolute demands the grove remains untouched until my mission is complete. I will return to give the word, and only then do we march."
She scoffs, her nose curling at my tone. "I will not delay my plans simply because you want to play village king to a pack of cretins."
She is quickly becoming another nuisance. "The nature of my duties is of great interest to The Absolute. I will carry out my objective in Her Name, despite your tantrum. You will not stand in my way, Minthara, don't make me go through you."
Our eyes lock as her ire creates a palpable ozone and a quiet settles in the dank air of the chamber. "You invoke her name against me?" She steps around the table with purpose. "I am Nightwarden Minthara Baenre." As she closes the space between us her voice becomes low and hostile. "I will not be spoken down to, iblith." She leans into me, pressing her hand on the table next to me before snatching my collar, pulling me into her. Her eyes track my face, speaking with a calm that only comes from a barely contained fervor. "What are you really doing here? Who are you?"
I watch her cool red eyes, the smell of poison on her breath, hot with frustration. My hand closes around her wrist and I feel her quickened pulse. A serene pleasure dances across my face. "Vash Neel." I pull her grip from my collar. "I've come looking for the Druid Halsin. He was party to the Adventurers that slipped into this very camp." My voice is low and mocking. "...under your nose."
She swiftly rips her wrist free from my grasp. "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 straight into the goblin's final heartbeats. "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 in a self-soothing hug. Mouth agape.
I need to probe her logic. "A bear? How can you be sure it's him?"
She snorts. "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. Shrewd." She waves her hand dismissively. "If I'm wrong I've lost nothing in making the assumption."
"Nothing but a loyal subordinate..." I glance at Sazza. She's stepped back, but remains, murmuring to another goblin.
Minthara's eyes are sharp. "Loyalty means nothing if they are a detriment to our mission. Surely that's something a half-wit foulblood can understand."
"Foulblood?"
My hand twitches as vivid thoughts flood my mind, my eyes drifting across her body. Is this the man I am? Lecherous and hungry?
Before my mind yields an answer, my fingers trace the curve of her waist.
She slaps me. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself!"
A foul grin splits my face, sharp teeth gleaming in the candlelight. I swiftly slip my hands under the tassets of her armor, firmly gripping her and pulling her into my erection.
She grunts in frustration as she catches herself on my shoulders.
In one fluid motion I lift her and throw her onto the table.
A fresh, contemptuous fire ignites within her and her fist slams into my face. The shock of the blow causes me to let her go. Sharp pain shoots through my nose and down my neck. I take the hit and give myself a moment to recover, feeling blood trickling down my lip as it cools on my skin. My eyes flash, meeting hers once again, recklessly aroused. "That's better."
She swiftly holds her dagger to my throat, and I lift my hands in surrender. She's shaking with rage as she rights herself. "SHUT UP!" Her voice echoes once again and with clawed fingers she grabs my face, digging her nails into my cheeks. "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 and something happens to her eyes at the mention of vengeance. The flicker of someone else long forgotten, but in a blink, it's gone and her composure returns.
She snarls my directive like a cornered animal. "Go to the worg pens! The druid is there. Question the ingrate! Complete your 'mission', and return to me when you're finally ready to march! Do you understand me!?"
My heart is pounding in my chest with exhilaration. "Yes, Nightwarden."
To my surprise, she releases me from her cruel grasp. "You are dismissed; I have other leads to follow. I'll leave that damned grove to you—for now."
My heart stutters at the rug pull. Dismissed? She can't be done with me.
"If you recovered the weapon, bring it directly to me and we can return to General Thorm for fresh orders."
Thorm. The name thrums in my mind like the sound of a war drum, and I get the phantom scent of dust and rot. My mind is still reeling.
"I do not want to see your face again until then!"
I lose a breath. "No."
"No?"
I stare, speechless. Finally glancing at Brynna who is watching with a mixture of shock and vindication.
My skin crawls and the silence is deafening. I'm frustrated, indefensibly aroused, and embarrassed.
I finally turn to my company and see Shadowheart, looking at me as if I were a kicked puppy. I brush past her and make my way out, navigating the halls to the gods forsaken worg pen so I can speak to some incompetent druid bastard.
As I walk, I try to quieten my thoughts, something that's quickly becoming habit.
Always overwhelmed.
Always too many voices.
Always seething.
It doesn't matter how hard I try. They never go away. I can only dampen them enough to rise to the surface and breathe.
How long can I keep this up?
I soon hear the pattering of feet come up behind me and feel a gentle tug on my cloak. I stop abruptly and look sharply at the intrusion. It's Sazza, looking up at me expectantly. "Is there anything else you needed from me, Boss?"
I give a heavy exhale and calm myself. "No. You did very well in bringing me here." There has to be something I can do to show gratitude to a goblin. I get down on my knee and reach into my cloak. I pull out one of my daggers. "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. A token for her loyalty.
She looks it over, turning it in her hand. "Hells' teeth, I've never seen anything shine like this. I can see my own face in it!" She smirks with mischievous gratitude. She most certainly won't do anything constructive with that weapon. "Praise The Absolute! Thanks, Boss!"
I watch her with empty eyes as she scurries away. I stand, straightening my cloak.
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. 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 step reluctantly but soon accept that her instincts are correct. I stop resisting and walk with her, feeling a faint tremble in my hand.
We soon come to an empty room that looks like it used to be a chapel. Shadowheart glances around, "Eh. Maybe this isn't the best spot."
I look at the row of pews and swiftly plant myself in one of the seats. "It's quiet and has a place to rest." I lay across the bench, placing my arm over my eyes. "It's a chapel with no purpose, dedicated to a goddess who hasn't heard a word of worship here in a hundred years. If Selûna lingers, it is a pathetic presence."
There is a beat of silence before I hear the closing of a door and the sound of her mail shifting softly with a stilted ringing sound. I feel her sit next to me and take my head into her lap. The mail is cold at first but quickly warms beneath my skin.
Her voice is tender. "What's going on, Vash?"
I smirk, though my arm is still draped over my face. "I don't know what you mean."
"Please, spare me this back and forth and just tell me."
I peek up at her. "What do you want me to say? That I lost control?" I tuck my eyes away once more. "It's not exactly who I want to be, and honestly, it didn't feel like a decision I made. It just… happened. I can't explain it beyond that, and it feels foolish trying to at this point."
She begins brushing her fingers over my hair and I take a heavy breath through my nose. We're quiet for a moment before I hear her voice once more. Soft but direct. "You aren't really going to tell the goblins to march on the grove, are you?"
I finally press my fingers over my eyes, reclaiming some of my sense. "I think you can agree that our number one priority is survival. Now that I have command over the march, we can take our time with Halsin. Gods know how useful he'll be if his precious grove is nothing but bodies and ash." I stifle a shudder at the erotic imagery. I quickly move on, looking up at Shadowheart. "But, if following Minthara to Moonrise will lead us to a cure, then wouldn't it stand to reason we keep our options open?"
Shadowheart hears my words but hesitates.
I speak gently, softening myself for her. "Shadowheart. These people are nothing more than ghosts clinging desperately to hope. They'd have died a long time ago. It's only by some cruel fate they've lived this long only to witness a slower death. They will all be claimed. Whether it's by our hand or another's, they'll be dead soon either way."
She looks at me, stunned. "How can you say that about your own kin? I'm not saying I disagree with your pragmatism, but it's not something I would have expected from you. Regardless of your oath, wouldn't you feel a duty to protect them?"
I search for a way to put it into simple terms for her. "Do you want me to prioritize my duty to them over my duty to you?"
She's quiet for a moment, her eyes tracking my face as she untangles the idea in her mind. "No... of course not. I'm grateful to have you by my side in this."
I smile and reach up to grip her hand. "I promise, our survival will always come first."
She looks at our mingled fingers, and settles into a measured serenity, gripping my hand.
"Your wisdom keeps me grounded, Shadowheart. The more we work together, the more I believe we'll make it through this."
She glances at me and places her palm on my cheek. I close my eyes again, feeling her soft warmth before feeling her lift my head, and press her lips to mine. My eyes flit open. I want to be consumed by the kiss, but I cannot trust myself right now. The voices have only just quietened, but they are still present. I need to get a handle on whatever the hells is going on with me.
I pull back. My breath ragged, betraying my desire.
"What's wrong?" She's trying to read me. Not sure how much she can glean when I can barely read myself.
My voice is flat, almost mournful. "I don't know."
She smiles gently and strokes my cheek, kissing me once again.
A faint moan registers in my throat as her infectious warmth seeps into me. I rise, tucking her knees under my arms and lifting her up, carrying her over to the altar of Selûna.
The moment I place her down on the altar top, she pulls back sharply. "No!" Her knees are gripping my waist as she looks back at cold blue stone eyes crafted into the altar's reredos.
I watch her as she clings to my neck, leaning into me as if the altar were intolerably hot.
"Please, not here." She looks at me with a mixture of fear and frustration.
I speak gently, cradling her cheek in my palm. "I'm so grateful to be traveling with you, Shadowheart. You've been a blessing to have by my side, but I need you to be honest with me."
She grows wary and speaks quickly. "You know I don't remember much of my past. I'm not trying to be untrustworthy, but Shar's secrets must be protected!"
I raise my eyebrows and she is silent until she realizes her mistake. Her eyes go wide and she lets go of me. "No. No, that's not—" She stops herself, seeing the smile grow on my face.
I lean in and begin to kiss her neck, cooing into her soft skin as my hand grips her waist. "Let me worship with you."
An exhale and I feel her hands climb around my shoulders once again. "Vash." Her knees release their grip and she leans into me.
My hands drift to the waistband of her leggings, pulling them off. I can't help but take her delicate foot in my hand, kissing across her ankle before kneeling in front of her. I begin to consume her, an eucharist of Shar, fragrant and unburdening. She sighs, toes curling as she places her feet on my shoulders.
She leans back, the fear and uncertainty melting away with the sanctity of our defilement. She moans softly; each sigh is a breath of renewal. I'm happy I can give this to her.
I leave her slick with my tender ministrations before standing. I tip her back, aching in anticipation before pulling her onto me. A sigh escapes me as I feel the warmth of her. Her ankles flex, fingers grip the edge of the altar as we indulge. She looks as though she's needed this as much as me. I rest my hands on the altar top, anchoring her waist to me. Allowing my movements to feel more purposeful.
She grips my wrists, her motions fully engaged with mine, eyes rolling with pleasure. She sharply inhales and murmurs, "Gods!" Her back arching, feet gripping me behind my neck. I slow and breathe, taking in the sight of her euphoria. After a subtle shudder she sits up, pushing me back with her palm on my chest, giving me a coy smile.
I step back as she slides off, turning and bending forward over the altar. I run my fingers over her soft ass before the intrusive thoughts tug at my control. I promptly bend down and bite her bottom cheek, not hard, merely a playful nibble.
She jumps and laughs lightly. "Careful!"
I'm grinning as I run two fingers over her. She bites back another moan. I feel a cold and silken presence as I begin my communion with her once again. Shadowheart leans into me and I hear her saying a whispered prayer. I gently wrap her ponytail around my hand and pull her upright, wrapping my arm around her waist, kissing her neck once again.
My hand travels up the front of her armor before curling gently around her neck. Vile images flash in my mind. Intrusive and unrelenting.
Shadowheart's pleas for rescue from her pod. Shrill and frightened.
Her body lying on the beach, my fingers dragging across her neck. Squeezing. Lightly.
I feel the sensations of strangling Nettie and seeing the blood sputtering from her mouth. Gripping. Tightly.
Her name drips from my mouth like a dark prayer. "Shadowheart..."
She takes in a deep gasp, reaching behind and gripping my cloak tightly, pulling me into her. Her body flexes as she leans deep into me, letting out a silent cry. I feel her pulse racing as passion rises into pure euphoria. A torrent of pleasure washes over me in conjunction with hers. Salvation from the smoldering mania that was burning away my self-control.
With a heavy breath I rest my forehead on her shoulder, giving myself time to come down. I finally release her, and she bends forward, catching her breath. It's only then I realize how tightly I had been gripping her neck. Red welts rise from where my nails dug in. She didn't protest, but what concerns me is that I didn't feel myself doing it. Another lapse.
She briskly slaps me across the face.
The strike rattles me, but it was earned. I brush my hand across my cheek before looking at her neck. "Shadowheart, I am so sorry."
"You need to be more mindful!" She looks discontented with me, but not overtly resentful.
I take in her scolding. The thought of Shadowheart losing trust in me leaves me unmoored. A chill rushes through me. "Please, let me take care of it." I gently reach out not realizing the idea of having my hand near her throat might be the last thing she wants right now.
She swiftly pushes my hand away. "Stop, Vash! I’m—I’m fine."
I watch as she works to calm herself, moving past me to sit on a pew.
I slowly step towards her. "May I sit next to you?"
She glances up at me and takes a breath before I notice a slight smile peeking through her frustration. "Yes, that's fine."
I sit, and we take a moment to ourselves before she takes my hand.
I glance down at her thin scarred fingers clutching me and give her a gentle squeeze. "How long have you worshipped Shar?"
She sighs and leans her head against my shoulder. "30 years. I was brought into a cloister when I was very young. I was an orphan, lost in the forest. How I got there, I can't remember, but I found myself cornered by a dire wolf. It was at that moment the cloister found me and saved my life. Shar has been a blessing to me ever since, and I am proud to serve her."
I lay my head on hers and speak gently. "I can imagine the Lady of Loss offers great comfort to you."
"Yes. Comfort. Purpose. Punishment when it's needed. Salvation when it's earned." I feel a breath between her words before speaking with a gentle reverence. "I love her dearly."
"I envy your bond with her."
"And you. Do you remember whom you serve?"
"No. I thought perhaps it was Shar, given the nature of my powers, but it doesn't seem to be the case."
"I understand why you would think so, but the dark magic imbued by your God feels acrid and violent to me. I honestly don't know what to make of it. Shar's power is a cold and silken void that embraces everything it touches." She speaks wistfully as she describes the sensation.
"It was comforting, despite it feeling out of resonance with myself. I'm glad to have experienced it either way." I let a moment pass before speaking again, "Were you really concerned about the grove? It seems trivial given Shar's tenets."
She considers my question, but is noticeably hesitant, "Of course not. I just wanted to know what to prepare for, given your leadership of this company. It's refreshing to know such things won't stand in the way of our survival. I commend you for that."
Good to know I'm commendable despite my violent nature. That, I can work with.