My hand rests firmly in my pocket as I wait for the blood to stop running. Bex, Astarion, and I follow the druids to the inner sanctum. They are carrying the cloaked and bundled bodies of the Shadow Druids, and Silver. Some people pause as they watch the impromptu procession. Hats come off. Hands settle over hearts.

I glance down at Bex. She wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve as she walks, focused on the path ahead.

The bodies are laid out across the shore, with the others.

"Silver," a woman says quietly. "What happened to Silver?"

Bex's face grows tight and she presses her hand over her mouth. I hesitate before gently placing my arm across her shoulders. She glances up at me, then leans in, clinging to the edge of my cloak.

We listen to Hembry give the casualties last rites. Bex's shoulders shudder after a breath or two. Astarion stands with an appropriately mournful poise, though his expression settles into a bored solemnity as the sermon carries on.

As it concludes, a bird lands on my shoulder.

"Gustav." I tap my ear, and his chirps quickly shift into true words. Gustav. A flighty little house wren with nothing better to do than gossip. An expert at blending in, and even better at remembering details. I'm glad I didn't crush him.

Bex looks up at him and we break from the rites, stepping into a private clearing near the river. "What is it?" she asks.

"You're not going to believe this! I found a booyahg that can understand me!" He hops, his chest feathers ruffling.

"Good. Did she find Sazza?"

"Hmph... that's the bad news. She didn't want to bother. Swatted me away at the mere mention. I told her it was a message from you, but she seemed completely disinterested."

"You mentioned me by name?"

"Of course! What else would I do?" He flicks his wings, indignant.

"Tell the booyahg Boss wants to speak with her."

He hops and tilts his head. "Boss, ay? Heheheheh. Nutcracker." He takes flight.

"Well?" Bex wipes her face with her sleeve.

"He's found a booyahg that can cast Speak with Animals, but she's being uncooperative when it comes to locating Sazza."

"Sazza? What do you want with her?"

"I want to see where her loyalties lie."

"This is your plan for clearing the goblin camp, isn't it? You turn the goblins against themselves, and then what?"

"Then I remove the True Souls that remain."

"If there are still True Souls at the camp, why have the attacks on the grove stopped?"

"Because I command the march."

She shifts quietly. "Oh."

Astarion leans in. "What are we whispering about?"

"Next steps," I say with a smile.

We begin to make our way out of the inner sanctum.

"We're going to be traveling for a few days. We won't be back to the grove for some time."

"Are we now?" Astarion glances at me. "And when were you going to disclose this to me?"

"Right now. Of course."

"Oh, thank you!" he says with a snide tone. "I love being carted about at the whims of someone else without any say in the matter."

My shoulders fall. "I'm sorry, Astarion. Things have been..."

He folds his arms. "Oh, don't give me that wounded paladin act. I'm not going to feel sorry for you for deciding things for me."

Bex stops me. "Where, exactly, are you going? You have an obligation here."

"We're following a lead on a cure."

"A lead? What about Halsin?"

"He's decided to remain in the goblin camp. I'm sure if he wanted to return, he would." I reach into my pocket and pull out a sending stone. "I acquired this from the druids' stores. We can use it to communicate over long distances, albeit briefly. A short report, once a day. Use it when you need me."

She takes it and flips the stone over in her palm. "And I'm meant to remain here and do what, exactly?"

"Maintain order. Isn't that what you want? The ordinance is in place. The caravan is safe. Someone should remain behind and-"

"No, Vash." She straightens. "As your lieutenant, I need to remain informed of our operations. Having one short message a day is not satisfactory to that role. I'm coming with you."

Astarion and I look at her.

"And Danis is coming too."

A smile creeps across my face. "If you're certain."

"I am. And stop smiling," she says, the corner of her lip betraying a faint smirk.

"I suppose we can make room."

She shakes her head. "I'll go pack. See you at the gate." She heads off toward her camp.

I feel Astarion's eyes on me. "Happy, are we?"

"She's a very effective lieutenant."

"Uh-huh. Well... where exactly are we going?"

"Waukeen's Rest."

"We're finally following Lae'zel's lead?" Astarion presses his fingers to his forehead. "Do you think those green-skinned nut jobs actually have a cure?"

"I don't see why not. The Zaith'isk appears to be as good a prospect as any."

"I'm not looking forward to hiking through mountains. Can't we get a horse?"

We pass by a tiefling tending to a few oxen in a pen.

"Not a bad idea," I murmur. "Excuse me, sir?" I approach him. "Are any of your oxen for sale?"

"Vash! Yes, of course." He points at a scrawny thing lingering at the edge of the pen. "For what you've done, I'll give you that one, I only ask that you buy the cart that goes with him. Say... 15 gold."

"A generous offer." I walk up to the ox. "Hello."

He's chewing cud, pretending not to notice me.

"Hello?"

He vaguely turns his head to me. "Moo."

"...right." I sigh and glance at Astarion, opening my coin pouch. "I'm doing this for you."

He grins and leans into me. "No, you're not. But I appreciate the sentiment either way."

I place the gold in the man's hand. He thumbs through it and nods. "I'm glad he'll be in good hands. He's all yours."

"Thank you. Would you mind showing me how to hitch the damn thing?"

"Certainly."

Astarion and I lounge in the ox cart just outside the ivy gate. I have a few more things packed from the grove. My feet are propped on a crate, as I measure a glaive I took from the druid's quartermaster.

Astarion is gently polishing his nails. "I still don't understand why you chose that thing out of the other perfectly fine weapons the wardens were hording."

"A glaive that can cause any man who touches it to feel their deepest grief? A good utility."

"And yet you're touching it."

"Yes, it doesn't seem to have an effect on me. I'm not sure why."

Shouting rises from up the trail. I set the glaive down and sit up. Sazza crests the hill, followed by an entire goblin warband.

"Gods damn it." I jump from the cart and sprint up the trail. "Stop, you absolute fools!"

The warband roars forward.

I step in front of them and detonate an array of thunder that blows the frontline back.

Sazza hits the dirt and the warband comes to a halt.

I march up to her. "I never told you to come to the redoubt!" I bark. "What are you doing here?"

Sazza holds up her arms. "You said you wanted to talk, Boss! I figured something was up, so I brought my band!"

"A mistake." I snap.

She flinches, then carefully lifts herself. "Y-You're right, Boss."

Astarion catches up as I turn the warband away from the gate.

Sazza dusts herself off and scuttles next to me.

"I wanted to speak to you about the other True Souls in the camp. Minthara and Ragzlin. What loyalties do they still have among your tribe?"

"Oh! Well... Ragzlin is a blessing from the Absolute! A true warrior. A True Soul! He's kept our coffers loaded and our bellies full!"

"What do you do for him?"

She looks at me bewildered. "Raidin' of course."

I glance down at her. "...and?"

"What else is there?"

"Your tribe is small, Sazza. Imagine what you and your kin could do if you weren't just surviving under the boot of some feckless warlord."

Sazza's face twists. "I-I guess I never thought of that before."

A goblin shoves his way forward. Chest out, scowl on his face. "Are you say'n Ragzlin is no good? Those seem like fight'n words!"

"They are."

His scowl deepens. "I'd like to see that! Ragzlin could snap you in half!"

I stop and step up to him. "Is that what you really think?"

He gawks at me, neck craning to match my stare. "Well... I-"

Two goblins grab his shoulders and pull him back. "Let Boss speak!"

I watch him before continuing on. "What about Minthara?"

Sazza begins fidgeting, scuttling along beside me. "Mistress Minthara is..." She pauses, her face twisting. She looks pained. "She's a True Soul. She's strong and speaks for the Absolute. She..." She falls silent.

I glance at the other goblins walking next to me. "Is that all?"

No one speaks. Their normal chattering lowers.

"And who am I, Sazza?"

"Well..." Her shoulders relax. "You're the Boss! You got me out of the grove. Saved my life!" Her eyes dart to her kin. "You brought me back to my tribe!" They laugh with a rough exuberance, gripping her arm and patting her back. "You gave me my shiny dagger after our bargain was done." She unsheathes it, holding it up so the others can see.

A few ogle the blade, while a goblin chimes in. "He crushed Crusher! It was nasty work!"

"Yeah! And he bested Fezzerk with one swing of his dagger!" The goblin mimics the strike.

Another goblin grabs Sazza's shoulders. "He took down Keaps with a thought! Just like True Soul Zrell! You should have seen it!"

"Yeah! My ears are still ringing!" He laughs and sticks a pinky in his ear. His crude machete strapped neatly to his back. "I thought I was going to go mad! My brain was itchin'! I didn't know my brain could itch!"

"I told you!" Sazza says. "Boss is mighty! Mistress Minthara clobbered him in the face, twice! And he didn't back down. He didn't even flinch!"

"You're not just spider food. You're warriors, and you deserve the glory owed to you."

I hear a murmur ripple through them. "...the spider pits..."

"I am the True Soul that will lead you to that glory."

Several goblins jump and ululate.

"Praise the Absolute!"

I look down at Sazza. "Spread the word. Gather more. There is strength in numbers. I'll remain in touch."

"Leave it to us, Boss!"

"You know what to do." I stop and scan the warband that surrounds me. "Get to work."

The goblins dart off, screaming, weapons high.

Astarion gently tucks a curl behind his ear. "You certainly like to keep busy."

I grunt and we begin to walk back to the ox cart. "I cherish the few moments of peace I get."

"I don't believe that for a minute. You're thriving from all the attention."

"Do you think that's what this is about? Attention?"

He laughs. "Of course not, darling! I think it's about the most natural desire in the world." He leans in. "Power."

A slight smile tugs at my lips.

"There it is! Ambition. Lurking behind every good deed, you cheeky devil."

I stare down at him. "Devil?"

He rolls his eyes and waves me off. "Please, don't give me that. You know what I mean. Gods." He drags his hand down my arm. "All I'm saying is you could give yourself a little more time to relax."

"Rest is for the dead."

"Hah. I can make a pretty good argument against that."

"So, what do you suggest?"

He meets my eye. "A dangerous question to ask with people watching." He nods toward the ox cart.

Bex and Danis are talking quietly together, waiting.

I search them as we approach. "Where are your things? Have you decided against coming?"

"Of course not," Bex says. "We've already loaded our packs."

I glance into the ox cart and see two modest rucksacks. "...that's all?"

"We thought it best to leave our furniture in Elturel," she says, climbing in.

Danis follows quietly, his face sullen. He doesn't look at me.

We arrive back in camp and hop off the ox cart. "It's going to be a lot easier to travel," I say with a wide grin.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel are sitting across from each other around the fire pit. Shadowheart glances at me, holding a grape to her lips. "Travel? Where are we going?"

"Waukeen's Rest."

Lae'zel stands abruptly. "We are going to look for my people?"

"We've exhausted all local leads. Since Halsin would rather blackmail us than help, we're dead in the water. Now that I've secured adequate provisions, we're prepared to move on the creche while the goblin alliance is formalized."

"Halsin blackmailed you?" Bex walks up from behind, her rucksack slung over her shoulder.

"Yes. It was… distasteful. Especially with how imminent our condition is."

"What was he asking?"

"That we help him take out the goblin leaders. However," I wrinkle my nose, "organizing political insurrections takes at least five days."

She shakes her head, holding back a smile. "That's terrible, Vash."

"We'll leave first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I have a few things I need to tend to. Make yourself at home."

"Very well," she says, eyeing me as I head back to the ox cart.

Astarion's nose curls. "Here's your glaive, darling." He grabs it, then drops it with a gasp.

"Astarion?"

He stares blankly at the thing, then moves to his tent.

"Astarion, are you okay?"

He doesn't speak, only ducks in and slaps the flap shut in my face.

I pause outside of his tent before stepping back and returning to the cart, picking up the glaive.

Nothing.

I take it to my tent and tuck it behind my cot.

Alone at last. I snap and Shovel materializes with a puff of sulfuric air. She lands on her feet, back to me. She does a quick glance around, and I clear my throat. She turns and gasps with a gleeful snarl. "MASTER NEELY!"

Always screaming... "Good evening, Shovel. Any luck on finding it?" I kneel and she dashes over to me, climbing up my arm and hugging my head.

"Yes-yes! It was awful! They came at me with many angry fangs. The sounds. The smells! The bodies. Who knew they could jump so far!" She launches herself off my shoulder. "Before I knew it, I was swarmed! Six baby spiders! Biting. Clawing. Venom in my blood! I didn't stand a chance!" She laughs, reenacting her demise.

"I can only imagine. Thank you for sparing me the horror of witnessing it firsthand. I've been seasoning some fish for you. As we agreed."

The stench of it trails through the air as I hold up the fetid bucket.

Shovel grabs at it, but I pull it away. "First, the stone." I hold out my hand.

She can't drop the stone fast enough. It's a large, round amethyst. "Shovel. My hand," I say, holding out my open palm.

"Uuuugghhh!!!" She stoops and picks it up, slapping it into my palm.

I toss her the bucket, and she tears into the rotten fish. I run my thumb over the smooth, cold surface of the gem. I can sense the profane tendrils of Weave trapped within.

I make my way to Astarion's camp. I search his collection of gaudy objects. I stop and stare at a mirror perched on a small table just outside his tent wall. In case he forgets he can't see himself, I suppose. What a strange sentiment, but he is a very strange man.

The Necromancy of Thay is conspicuously missing. I climb into his tent and see him lying in his bedroll. Motionless. He barely acknowledges my presence. I toss a few pillows to the side and find nothing.

With a vague smile, I dig my hands under him, searching his bedroll. I expect him to push me away, but I get nothing.

I finally stop and sit back. "Astarion?" I place a gentle hand on his hip and he swats my hand.

"A-hah. You are in there."

With a collapsed voice, he groans. "Unfortunately. Why are you bothering me?"

"I'm here for the book. Where is it?"

He sighs and pulls it from under his pillow, tossing it at me. It hits me in the chest and I grunt. He returns to the important task of wallowing in his own self-pity.

I stare at him before examining the book. He didn't damage it. There is a pause. "Are you alright?" I ask softly.

"Just leave me alone," he snaps.

I tuck the book into my lap and sit with him for a moment. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He doesn't respond at first but finally turns toward me. His face is haunted, as if his body has been trying to cry, but can't.

"The glaive," I say softly.

He scoffs. "That wretched thing. Who would keep such a useless fucking thing, anyway? Grief... really. A low blow." He promptly grabs one of his pillows and buries his face in it.

I take his hand and give it a tender squeeze. "Would opening up a cursed book make you feel better?"

He peeks out from behind the pillow. Nose still pressed into the silky fabric. He nods and I tug at his hand. "Come on. Let's go."

He slowly gets up, and I walk with him, running my arm through his. He shuffles along but then finally sees the tent. His smarmy voice peeking through the lingering sadness. "Alfira's tent?"

"Yes. I'm going to use it for now."

"I'm sure she'll be happy someone's putting it to use." There is an exasperation behind the way he says it.

"Naturally." I open the flap for him and he ducks inside.

Shovel sees the book and instantly begins hopping around, breathing in sharply with excited soundless laughter. "Master Neely still has the book! Oh! Oh! Oh! Open it! Open it!"

I pull out a chair for Astarion and he sits.

He's focused on me, the jester that I am, performing my necromantic party tricks for my...

...my...

I glance at him. I must look confused because he shifts in his seat, crossing his legs, and studying me.

Without further hesitation, I slip the amethyst into the book's hollow maw. The stone is pulled into its mouth by a ravenous sentience.

The latches on the side come loose. I thumb open the book and am flooded with howling voices. Angry, hungry, tempting, mournful, lonely, powerful. I try to connect, but every voice rushes past me.

Astarion leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Shovel gasps. "Master Neely needs to use his magics! Tell them to speak or you throw the book in a holy fire!" She flinches and her tail coils tightly at the thought of it. She swiftly tries to climb into Astarion's lap.

He lifts his arms and pulls back from the stinky demon now perched on his legs. "Uch... couldn't you have a normal familiar, like a cat?" He pauses. "Don't answer that. The festering demon baby was inevitable, wasn't it?" He sighs and tentatively places two fingers on Shovel's head, rubbing her skin reluctantly. She leans into it, closing her eyes.

I follow Shovel's instructions and hover my hand over the pages of the tome. My magic immediately works as a conduit, and the voices begin to split and calm themselves. Words finally come forth.

"You are known..."

Sigils rise from the page, and a cold breathless chill runs through me. My vision goes dark. I am pulled into another realm, and as the sigils sear themselves into my mind, my vision splits, like I were two people sharing one mind, seeing the same thing from different places. Two different hearts. Though one is larger and louder than the other. It feels like they're both fighting to breathe, and no one is winning. A faint panic grows within me as I begin to choke.

I am surrounded by screams.

The damned rise before me.

I know how to call them.

And they will come eagerly.

Through the howling madness, I finally hear a disharmony of cobbled thoughts, "You are known... Child of Murder."

"Who are you?" I do not speak with my voice, but with the wavering tenor of my shattered soul.

"We are those who were taken to harbor the library of undying truths. Sacrifices of the Lich, Szass Tam."

"Sacrifices? You are sealed to curate Thayan knowledge?"

The spirits begin to roil and the howling rattles my core. I become choked once again as my vision of overlapping angles disorients me.

"Use the book—read the book—free us—Bhaalspawn—use the power—we give you power—finish the book—call upon us—use us—free us."

The shades begin to overpower the whispers of Bhaal and the warring voices turn shrill and angry. The words fold into my consciousness like paper folding an eighth time. There are a hundred shouting souls tearing my mind apart and I feel my body falling to its knees. Fists gripping my head. Jaw clenching. Madness surging. Trying not to cry out.

I conjure the Weave to seal off the anguish. The double vision becomes one and my face hits the dirt.

I feel myself being rolled onto my back. "Gods! Are you alright?"

Three forces surge and churn in my head like the tide against a rocky shore. The Shades, Bhaal, and somewhere beneath it all, myself.

Without a word he embraces. I feel my mind slowly falling back into place. I don't want to let him go. He stays with me, resting his hip on the ground, draped over my body, arms cradling my head.

I mutter into his ear. "I was supposed to be comforting you."

He grips me a little tighter. "You are."