"Is that all?" I approach Bex and Danis as they arrive with their things.

Each carrying a single rucksack. Danis is holding an extra satchel across his back.

Bex adjusts the strap of her crossbow which is nestled next to her bag on her back. "Yes. This is all."

I reach out, taking their bags from them and placing them in the ox cart. "Is there anything you need? I'd be happy to send for provisions from Arron."

"There's no need for that." Bex says. "I've already put in an order. Arron will be sending a delivery for us with the shipment that will be meeting us at Waukeen's rest."

I smile. "Of course."

"So, where exactly are we going?" Danis says with hesitation.

"Lae'zel." Bex gestures towards Lae'zel who is currently lifting her sparring dummy into the ox cart. "She is leading us to a githyanki creche."

"Githyanki... what?"

"A githyanki creche. You remember. T'khan used to speak of them."

"Oh gods, I forgot about him." Danis pauses for a moment. "I hope he's okay. I never saw him after the city was restored. Not everyone survived the restoration." Another breath passes and he mutters. "Can githyanki turn tiefling in the hells?"

It doesn't take long to finish packing. The ox marches dutifully next to Shadowheart. She pats his nose and leads him down the trail, following the outer wall of the blighted village. We make it to a bend in the river. Lae'zel stands next to me, map in hand.

"This is the crossing." She tracks the riverbed and points. "There. The shallowest crossing."

I walk over to the shore, stepping into the riverbed. It's soft. Too soft. "This should do..." I turn to the others. "Hold here. Lae'zel and I will need to collect some wood to fortify the crossing."

Lae'zel rolls the map and places it in her satchel, before hopping into the ox cart to dig out a few axes.

Astarion sighs, rolling his eyes with relief. "Finally. I didn't get a moment to rest after getting back from the hunt, you were practically leaving without me."

"Darling." I grin. "I would never leave you behind."

He gives me a coy smile. "I know very well."

Gale scoffs and wanders off.

Bex grabs Danis' hand. "I'm going to wade in the water. Join me?"

He chuckles lightly. "No thank you, go ahead without me. Be careful."

She kisses him on the cheek and jogs over to the riverbank. She summons Tanzy and kicks off her boots. Her toe touches the water. The chill makes her flinch and she gives a gentle laugh.

"I'll join." Shadowheart approaches, unbuckling her mail, and sliding off her boots. "It doesn't look too deep. What's your crab's name?"

Bex smiles broad.

I run my hand up the ox's nose, giving him a pat between the ears. "What are you?"

His head bucks, chewing a mouth full of leaves before responding. "Moo."

My lips straighten as I reach out with the Weave, brushing across his form. Is he Fey? I'd like to know sooner rather than later. "You just spoke the word Moo to me. If you think onomatopoeia is supposed to be convincing, then you must be a dullard."

The ox grunts. "You're incapable."

I throw a hand in the air before a rustling down the trail grabs my attention. I give the ox's nose a last gentle pat before investigating. Each step I take seems to cause a new shifting of leaves before I hear a low growl. It's not the guttural timbre of a wolf, and far less certain.

"It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you."

I pull back the leaves, and the warm scent of aged corpse hits me. The gawking body of a courier stares up at me. His belly is torn open, skin green and marbled. He's likely been dead for three or four days.

A white dog stands over him, tail swinging low, eyes locked onto me. "Leave, stranger!" His voice is sharp, though exhausted.

"You look hungry."

"It doesn't matter. I need to protect him while he sleeps! Now go!" Another growl registers in his throat, his hackles tufted and warry.

I get down on my knees next to the body before speaking gently. "Friend… he's not asleep."

His stance remains, though he stops growling and he closes his lips. He chuffs through his nose. "I-I know." After a moment I hear a soft whine. He looks into the man's face. "I'm not ready."

I look at the torn corpse. "What happened to him?"

The dog whines. He doesn't answer.

"May I speak to him?"

He blinks. "Speak to him?"

"Step back."

The dog obeys, his hackles lowered.

I stretch out my hand, the whispers from the Shades of Thay rise. I summon the Weave, flooding the corpse. With a jerking motion, he sits up, eyes spilling tears of rot, mouth hanging loose.

The dog sits, lowering his head. He knows whatever this is, it is not his master.

"Who killed you?"

A rasping voice is brought forth. The Weave pushes the voice through his rotted windpipe. "Gnolllsss."

"Which way did they flee?"

A slow and laborious inhale strains his body. "East. Toward… the Risen… Roooaaad."

Of course they have. Prepared to ambush the next sorry sod to cross their path.

I look at the dog sitting next to the man. I should lay the corps to rest before I leave.

"Where did you come from?"

"Baaal-duuur's Gaaate."

Baldur's Gate. The center of the universe.

A soft mournful whistle cries forth from the dog's broken heart. He slowly lays next to the body, resting his head on the man's leg.

"What was your dog's name?"

Another rasp. "Scraaaaatch."

My last question, but there is nothing more I need to know. I look down at Scratch and run my fingers over the top of his head. His ear flicks as he closes his eyes.

"...Did you love Scratch?"

"Yeeesss."

The threads of our connection fade.

The dog releases a long and warbling whimper as he rocks his head on man's leg.

I hold out my hand. The dog opens his eye, his nose twitching.

"We'll be setting up camp across the river. You're welcome to join us when you're ready. We have food and shelter."

"Thank you, stranger."

The night is crisp and clear. The Tears of Selûne shine bright overhead. The campfire is strong, flickering and tugging at the air. A lively little inferno.

Scratch is sitting next to me, quietly watching the fire, shoulder leaning against my leg. I'm breaking away pieces of sausage; a late snack for myself, and for him. I offer him a morsel.

"Hm? Oh no, thank you, I'm stuffed. I couldn't possibly-" He gently pulls the piece from my fingers and eats it with a thumping of his tail on the ground.

I scratch him behind the ear, and he lets out a deep sigh. He seems better, having taken himself out of the fog of grief he had been wallowing in. It's not healthy. He won't be better right away, but the best I can offer him is normalcy while he works through it.

Danis sits quietly on the other side of the fire, attention firmly on the book in front of him. He has settled in well, but hasn't spoken much.

Shadowheart sits across from me, messing with the prism. She presses at the sides and tries to twist it, but the thing doesn't budge. She finally grunts and looks at me, waving it in the air. "This damned thing has to open."

"I don't understand what you expect will be inside." I hand Scratch another bite.

"I can't even venture a guess, but the lack of knowing makes me want to know so much more." She shakes it in the air and sighs.

The fissures between the githyanki steel pulse with the orange infernal glow. Almost like it's taunting her.

I pick at the last piece of sausage. "I would like to know how to get in contact with our Dream Visitor again. I have questions for them, but they seem to be eluding us on purpose. That's what frustrates me."

"Agreed. They offered me precious little when it came to information on my tadpole. Only that I should give it MORE attention, when I'd rather give it less." The corners of her mouth pull back with disgust just thinking about the damned thing.

I hand the sausage to Scratch who happily takes it. I laugh softly. "Scratch, do you think if I left out sausage they might come and visit again?"

Scratch looks up at me, panting from the heat of the campfire. "Of course! Who doesn't love sausage?"

Shadowheart smiles. "What did he say?"

"He thinks I'm a genius."

"Uh-hu." She chuckles softly. "Come here, boy!"

He eagerly pads over to her and sits as she scratches his neck.

I sense movement in the dark and look up. Bex's blue flame hovers like a will-o-the-wisp in the shadows as she jogs toward camp.

Danis huffs. "I don't know why you let her run off into the night alone like that."

I slowly shift my gaze to him. "Let her." I say quietly.

He catches my eye, and his face falls. He quickly looks down at his book.

Bex's voice is urgent as she calls out. "Vash! You need to see this. There-" She gasps sharply. "No!" Her pace quickens and she darts into camp. As she draws near to Scratch, she slows, carefully approaching him. He wags his tail at the sight of her. She kneels next to him, pressing her fingers into his thick white fur. "Hello good sir, what is your name?" She rubs gently behind his ears as he leans into her.

"The people call me Scratch." He pants. His hind leg begins thumping the ground.

"I found the spot, didn't I, Scratch?"

"Oooooo... yes." He says, lips stretched, leaning further into her.

Danis closes his book and watches her with a small smile.

"Are you going to stay with us, Scratch?"

"Can I? May I?"

"Of course! Have you been fed?"

Scratch gives a few gentle whines, then offers up a single bark. "I couldn't possibly. I'm so full."

She pulls out a biscuit from her pocket and hands it to him. He takes it serenely, tail thumping once again.

Her face suddenly falls. "But... what's going to happen when we get to Baldur's Gate? Dogs aren't allowed in the city."

"Scratch is the exception." I wave the matter off.

Bex side eyes me. "I pity the guard who might argue that fact."

I smile. "What was this thing you needed me to see?"

She flips her fingers at me, dismissively. I've been demoted from friend to nuisance.

"Follow the trail to the south. A fight's broken out. We should keep an eye on it, lest it spill over into something that becomes our problem. I'll be along shortly." She turns back to Scratch and begins cooing.

"This is the best," Scratch murmurs as she ruffles his face.

The night is heavy and stifling. The Tears of Selûne feel blinding overhead. My engine is running high, churning, and tugging at my chest. A dangerously raging inferno.

I refuse to let the heat overwhelm me. Something isn't right. It's never struggled like this before.

Gods damn it all. I just need to breathe, but why the hells wouldn't he listen?

Why Wyll? Why. Why...

I hate the feeling of his blood on my hands, my heat has already dried it on me. It's caked... it—

...

I told him this would happen, but he came at me anyway. Who the hells sent this poor boy on me? They forced us to fight. Just a couple of cockerels under Zariel's thumb. We escaped the hells and she still found a way to make our lives fucking miserable.

The weight of my axe is unbearable right now; I'm dropping the damned thing.

I don't want to see him crumpled on the ground like this. Let me just roll him onto his back, make him look dignified at least. Oh gods, the tears are coming. My tail is kicking up the dust; it's going to get us all filmy and gritty. Nothing like being both dusty and sad.

Let me put his arms on his chest, maybe? Where's his rapier? There. He looks a lot better, gripping his hilt like a proper warrior.

...

Now what? Do I just leave him here? Should I bury him? Where? What could I possibly do to make it up to him?

"I didn't want to kill you, Wyll. It's important to me that you know that." I can't stop my voice from shaking and there is a soft sizzling sound as each tear that tries to fall from my eyes boils and evaporates against my cheeks.

I gasp and look up sharply. Something's coming.

I see a small yellow light floating around in the dark. I think it's coming toward me? Is it... a person?

I think I can see a shape shifting through the shadows. They're dressed all in black. Seems like it's one of those loom over you and menace murder hobo types.

The little yellow light. I think it's their eye.

These one-eye pricks need to stop coming for me.

Probably another warlock, too. Hells, I can see it in the way light bends around them. They've made some big promises to some powerful beings. Poor bastard. Where did I set my axe? This is gunna be another fight.

"Who the fuck sent you? Tell Zariel I'm not going back. I'm never going back!"

Wait, it's a man with horns? Is he a tiefling? ...A devil?

"Oi! Are you from Elturel?" I don't like this one bit. "Look, whatever your bounty is, it isn't worth it. Trust me. "

He're not talking. Why is he not talking?

Rude.

Let me make sure I have a good grip on my axe. He's got a greatsword strapped to his back but he's so... composed. Oh shit! That's not warlock energy. That's paladin energy. That's even worse!

I'm going to give him one last warning and then it's on. I don't feel like getting Smitten? Ew no. Smitted? Eh.

"If you're one of those Tyr fuckers, back off! I just want to live my life. I don't want to hurt anyone! I don't want to hurt you! I swear!"

He's finally stopped and he's staring right at me. Gods it's making my skin crawl.

Why does he look so damned sad?

I hear a clear sigh from him. "I believe you."

...

This man's voice is smooth as butter. I need spooky man to tell me a bedtime story. It would be the best sleep I've gotten in years.

Spooks and I turn toward a quiet snap of a twig as someone comes jogging down the trail.

Another tiefling, but she looks super concerned. She jogs right up to Spooks and puts her hand on him. Aww, it's your classic murder hobo and way-out-of-his-league couple. "Who are you?"

He's looking at Wyll's body. "Vash Neel, and this is Bex. And you? It seems you've been caught in a tough situation. Are you alright?" He gestures toward my engine, as it whirrs and glows behind my ribs.

I'm gone for ten years, and get back to find Faerûn nice and chaotic, just as I left it. Paladins of Tyr trying to take my head. The Blade of Frontiers hunting me like I'm some criminal. Now this guy who reeks of death asking if everything's alright.

"Oh that? She's burning a little hot, but nothing I can't handle. I'm Karlach. I've just been through a lot, but it's a long story—ACH!"

Shit! I almost forgot about the tadpole behind my eye! I feel my knees hit the dirt.

Spooks' eyes are closed. Are we linking minds? I can't tell. I'm only getting fleeting snippets of red and faint screaming.

Ugh! I don't want to be in here!

It feels like something is trying to keep my mind out, thank the gods. He's quiet and finally opens his eyes, watching me as I try to regain my composure.

I hated that. "What in the hells just happened!?"

He's staring at me. Suspicious of me. He's one to judge. Suspicious fucker. I hear that creamy voice again.

"Do you serve the Absolute?"

I have no fucking idea what he's talking about.

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

He seems to believe me and steps closer to give me a hand up.

"No! Don't come any closer! I'm too hot!"

He's grinning at me. "Quite the ego on you."

What? Oh, for fuck's sake. "No. Like, actually. I'm burning up. I don't want to scorch your skin off."

"How hot are you? You know our kind aren't as susceptible to the heat as the other races."

Heh. Bastard. Why does he think I'm in this situation? "I don't want to take any chances."

He retracts his hand. "Fair." He's watching me as I get up. "It seems you are infected with an illithid tadpole, same as me. You must have been on the nautiloid when it crashed."

"I was but-" The squirming sensation returns with a fury. "Gah!"

Blondie runs up and catches my arm but burns her palms. She jerks back and breathes in sharply through her teeth.

"Damn! You weren't kidding! How the hells can you stand it?"

Spooks quickly whips out a healing potion and grabs her wrist. Her hands are shaking. He bites the cork off, dumping the whole potion on her palms.

"I'm so sorry, Blondie!"

She breathes and gives me a smirk. "Blondie?" She mutters up to him. "You didn't need to use the whole thing."

"I did," he murmurs.

I've never seen a paladin melt before; this man is melting. It's adorable. "You two are a cute couple."

I feel the sound get sucked out of the conversation. Whoops. Blondie quickly interjects. "Thank you, but we're not a couple. I'm married."

Aww, poor spooky man. Ah-well, we can't have it all.

I look between the two and my lips straighten. "Hey, I know we just met but..." I glance down at Wyll's body, gesturing to him. "Can you two help me out?"

Spooks begins scanning the ground, finding a spot back from the riverbank. Blondie hands him a shovel and he begins to dig. The hole he makes is done quickly and surprisingly clean. High quality grave hole. It's what Wyll deserves.

This is it. I think I'll be able to sleep better knowing I did him right—even after I did him wrong. Best not to dwell. I pick him up and place him in his perfect little hole. I should say a few words.

"To the realms he was The Blade of Frontiers. But I saw him. Wyll. A good kid who was led astray."

Blondie places two coins over his eyes. "May Kelemvor judge him fairly."

She clasps her hands in front of her as she bows her head.

"Nice touch." I mutter to her. Respectfully.

I stare at Wyll for a bit longer before feeling the back of my throat growing tight again. I can't look at him anymore. I turn away and hear a faint squealing coming from his body. I turn back and Spooks has a shovel full of dirt, but he swiftly sets it down.

He glances at Blondie and me. "You may want to turn away."

Blondie becomes alarmed. "What are you going to do?"

He looks at her and speaks so softly. "He has a tadpole. I need to retrieve it."

Maybe that's how Wyll found himself on that damned ship with me. "A tadpole? Like the one we have?"

He nods and watches us, waiting for us to turn. Blondie has a grim look on her face, but she stands next to me and turns her back.

If Blondie is going along with it, I guess... this is less weird? I turn as well. I hear a soft popping and a lot of wet noises. Then that squealing sound again, which quickly gets muffled. Finally the scraping sound of a shovel against dirt as Spooks quickly covers Wyll up.

I turn back to see him half covered already. I feel... better. I gather my courage and glance at Blondie. "You've done a lot for me already; I hate to ask for more."

She nods reassuringly. "Go ahead, asking won't hurt anything."

"I need help killing some evil bastards. They already tried to whoop me once, but I ran them off. They're hiding in that tollhouse, there." I point at it and they both turn to look. "They're some of Zariel's minions masquerading as Paladins of Tyr."

"Zariel." Blondie whispers.

"I don't think they're going to let up until one of us is dead. I need your help sending them back to the Hells."

Spooks is eyeing the tollhouse before looking up at the moons in the sky. "It shouldn't take too long." He begins to walk. "Bex, come."

She doesn't budge.

He slows to a stop and is looking back at her.

"Vash." She looks pretty upset. "These paladins. How is it such an easy choice for you to just agree to kill these people for a woman you just met? Help me understand. She could be lying, or worse, this could be a trap."

I'd be offended but I can't argue with being cautious. Good wits.

She's glancing at me. "No offence, Karlach, I just don't know you well enough to trust you like that."

"No, I get it I-"

Spooks is holding up his hand, and it stops me midsentence. He's giving her his full attention. "Bex."

She's watching him, she looks hopeful.

He glances at me with his one weird eye. "Karlach, this is important for you to know as well, so listen."

All I can do is nod.

"There is a new goddess that is trying to control people through the power of the tadpoles. She is called The Absolute."

"Ew. I don't like that."

"My company and I are in possession of a prism that protects us from her influence. Though we are not protected by proximity to the prism, rather, it's chosen to protect us."

He's speaking directly to Bex now. "This is why I am not really a True Soul, even though I'm tadpoled. The True Souls that lead the goblin camp are thralls of the Absolute. They do not have free will."

Spooks looks at us for a good long moment, for dramatic effect, then finally turns back to me. "You were chosen."

I place my hands on my chest, feeling flattered. "Why?"

"We all have one thing in common. We are all weapons."

Ugh... I'm not flattered anymore. Sounds dodgy. "So, you believe me because the prism chose me?"

"No, I don't need to believe you. Whatever makes you worthy to be chosen makes you far more valuable than the lives of whoever sits in that tollhouse right now."

Blondie walks up to him and places a hand on his elbow. He looks like he's about to faint. "If it's alright with you, I'd rather not go with you this time."

He clears his throat. "Wait here, both of you. I'll be back shortly."

"Wait, I'll come with! I've got one more fight in me—"

"No!"

Stops me right in my tracks.

"Stay here. You're too loud."

Rude.

Blondie steps closer to me and watches him as he walks toward the tollhouse. She covers her ears as he makes his way inside.

I hear a quiet thud and low moan. Then I'm startled by a cold, shrill scream which is quickly smothered. A beat of silence before I hear a man shouting. It sounds like a bad scuffle.

A blast shatters the windows of the tollhouse with a flash of red light.

Blondie jumps.

No more shouting.

Several minutes pass and Spooks finally comes out, covered in blood and limping. He's dragging one of the paladin's shiny golden greatswords behind him.

As he approaches, he hands it to me, wincing. "Let's head back to camp."

I look at the sword in my hands. Damned thing is far nicer than anything Zariel every gave me. "What? Just like that?"

He stands straight, wiping the blood from his eyes. I see a large gash in his forehead. "Ostensibly, yes."

I guess... I'm traveling with spooky man now.

She settles in well, staking out her tent further back from the fire pit.

She's a barbarian, and one of the more exceptional assets to Zariel in the Blood Wars. The chaotic fervor of a ruthless warrior, pressing deeply into a tender heart that was ripped out in all the wrong ways.

Scratch sensed it right away, but when he ran up to greet her, she had to back away, so she didn't singe him.

"Doesn't she love me?" Scratch is looking at me, like he did something wrong.

I scratch him behind his ears and reassure him. "She's too hot to touch, Scratch, but she still loves you."

I hear a high whine escape him as he pads back over to her. Laying down at the edge of her tent.

Karlach looks down at him and lowers herself. "Tell him I think he's a very handsome boy."

Scratch's tail sweeps the ground merrily as he rests his chin on his paws.

I look at her as she rolls out her bedroll, and I join Scratch, sitting cross-legged at the edge of her tent. "How long did you serve Zariel?"

"Ten years. I never wanted to. My old boss sold me to her." She fluffs her pillow before sitting down. "A man named Gortash."

My chest lurches. Why in the hells does that name sound so damned familiar? Feels like he could have been family, another Bhaalspawn. Who knows how many of these notions mean anything at all. Maybe Gale tried to poison my food. I wouldn't blame him, but he'd have a bitch of a time getting his cache at that point.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't curse that man's name. Still, there's nothing to be done about it now. He got what he wanted, and I got an engine for a heart. I haven't had a hug in 10 years." She flops over, burying her face in her pillow. She says it so flippantly, but I can't imagine what kind of fresh hells she must be in.

"Is there nothing we can do? There's got to be a way to cool you down." The wheels in my mind begin to turn.

I hear a muffled voice pressed into the pillow. "If you can think of something let me know. I left my mechanic back in Avernus." She turns back to me. "Without someone who can tune me up who knows how long I'll last. But one thing's for certain. I am never going back to the hells."

My lips straighten. Ao's benevolent 'balance' of all things.

We're quiet for a moment as I look down at Scratch, rubbing along the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed tightly.

Then she finally speaks again, haltingly. "Hey, Spooks?"

"Spooks?" I murmur, still focused on Scratch.

"Yeah, it's your new nickname!"

I glance at her. "Why Spooks?"

"...because you're spooky."

"Am I?"

She looks at me, bewildered. "Of course! It's your whole thing. Spooky cloak. Looming presence. Face scar. Eerie eyes."

"Eerie eyes? How so?"

She shifts and her lips go crooked. "I don't know. They look normal... not that normal is bad! But they look human. Like... too human."

I begin to smile.

She smiles back, though uneasy. "Sorry. I don't mean anything by it. Just a stupid nickname. You're not spooky. That was kind of mean."

"Spooks is a far superior name. I like it."

She laughs softly. "Good. For what it's worth, you do have a very buttery voice."

"I don't think I've ever been described as buttery in any context before."

"Well consider yourself lucky to have ol' Karlach telling it like it is." She grins, but her smile turns into a crooked smirk. "I... uh..." She's tucked in her bedroll, hugging a teddy bear while Scratch snores. "This is going to sound strange but... could you tell me a bedtime story?"

"A bedtime story."

"Only if you know any! You don't have to."

Do I know any?

I look up at the Tears of Selûne and listen to the quiet of the night. Tail curled behind me, feeling her warmth seep into me.

In a little cottage just outside of Rivington, there lived a boy.

He loved to play in the golden field that stretched outward from his home toward the edge of a forest.

Village children often came to play with him.

Spring came. The field began to bloom, inviting creatures of all sorts. Deer, rabbits, foxes, and dancing on the tops of nearly every blossom where butterflies. Floating unfettered through the air.

"That sounds lovely..." Karlach interjects wistfully.

The boy began to chase them, and with little effort, soon caught one in his hands. He was not delicate, having not understood how fragile they could be. He peeked into his hand and saw the butterfly laying stiff.

Karlach's face scrunches and she clings tighter to her teddy.

When the children came, he joined them eagerly, playing a game of chase in the blooming meadow. But when a butterfly floated near, he became afraid and ran from it.

The children saw this and began to jeer at him. Mocking him for being afraid of the butterflies.

"I'm not afraid of the butterflies, I'm afraid of hurting them!"

I pause a moment, suddenly feeling sickened. The back of my throat grows hot. Karlach nestles herself, watching me in anticipation.

The children didn't relent and chased the butterflies, smashing them between their hands.

With a large stick, he ran them off.

They dashed home, laughing and jeering along the way.

My shoulders fall and I glance down at Scratch, rubbing the bridge of his nose once more. "How does this story end?" I mutter.

That night, he lay in bed awake, thoughts race through his mind. He was now stuck with a problem that felt irreconcilable. He had to choose between his friends or caring for the creatures of the meadow.

In the quiet of the night, he heard a small voice rise from his windowsill. Frightened, he sat up, finding a tiny man standing proud. He was a king, donning royal raiment the shimmering golden wings.

"I am The King of the Butterflies." He said. "You defended my people. I saw in your heart a spark of true virtue, and I have a proposition for you."

The boy looked on in wonder. "A proposition?"

"I invite you to become a squire in my court. You will train with us and someday become a great warrior. A defender of creatures great and small!"

The boy gripped the edge of his blanket shaking his head. "But you're so small, how can I join you?"

"Small, though I may be, my power is great. I will shrink you, and when you are knighted, you will have earned power of our own."

The boy leapt from his bed, his heart overflowing with joy. "Then I will come with you! Oh, thank you, Your Majesty!"

The little boy was taken to the butterfly kingdom where he lived happily ever after.

Something trails my cheek and I hear a gentle snore escaping Karlach's nose. Fast asleep.