Chapter Text
“Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” Shadowheart questioned.
It’d been a few days since the nautiloid crashed and this merry band had begun traveling with one another, and it’d been a few days since the trajectory of all their lives were changed for the foreseeable future. She was watching someone—Valeris—climb atop a tree near the blighted village. The tall oak’s ancient branches weaved along the village’s old outer walls, making for an easy ladder to the top of the wall. Lae’zel & Karlach stood on both of Shadowheart’s sides, watching the interaction silently with keen eyes. “You’re going to kill yourself.”
“I do not,” Valeris protested, shifting her feet along a hollow branch. “There could be all kinds of brigands or bandits in here. Ambushes seem to be all too common these days.” She peered over the wall’s peak, eyes focusing on the rooftops.
More goblins. Damn it all.
They laid in wait atop some of the abandon house rafters, bows drawn and grease bottles in hand. They hadn’t yet noticed the half-drow’s dull silver eyes watching their conversation.
“Ye think they woulda killed ‘im already. I’m sicka hearin’ his yapping!” Said one of the raiders, she looked like the leader of this ambush at the front of the village’s entrance. A scout beside her bellowed with laughter.
“Let ol’ Fez and ‘em have their fun! It’s the Absolute’s work those lot ar’ doin’!”
Their conversation faded into the background of Valeris’ mind as she thought of what strategy could get them out of this with the low ground disadvantage. After years of being a skilled sword for hire, she found that it was quicker to plan ahead as opposed to rushing in blind.
“What’s the word, soldier?” Karlach questioned from below the great oak. Valeris dropped down onto the ground in front of them. She mulled over their plan of attack, none of them playing out particularly pleasantly.
Valeris sighed. “There’s a gobo ambush up ahead,” An idle hand stroked her chin in thought. Perhaps they could just go around the village entirely? No. Leaving rampaging goblins alive to roam free would just cause more havoc for any other passerby, and it was her duty as a paladin to end them here and now. “They’re on the rooftops, but we could take ‘em if we hit fast and hard.”
“Chk!” Lae’zel scoffed. She set about walking ahead of the rest, pure confidence in her stride. Lae’zel of K’liir would not be slaughtered by mere goblins, vermin controlled only by their will to pillage. “They’re just goblins. Lesser creatures. There is no need for such tedious strategy among them. Let us proceed.” At times, Valeris found the githyanki’s brazen nature vexing, but at others, she almost admired her willingness to walk head-first into danger. She followed quickly behind, without another word.
As the four crossed the threshold into the run-down town, the aforementioned leader of the ambushers made herself known. “AYE!” She yelled out, bow drawn. A playful smile danced across the goblin’s face. “You lot ain’t supposed to be ‘round ‘ere. Take one more step and we fill yer front with arrows. Leave, and yer back’ll get the same treatment!” With her declaration came something... Most strange. On the left side of her face, a reddish orange marking suddenly smouldered in the sunlight—setting something inside Valeris aflame. Something ancient. Hungry.
Much of her own free will disappeared in that moment, replaced by something more dominant. The half-drow’s eyes flickered toward the goblin leader, then past her. “You will stand down. I will pass through this place, whether you like it or not.” Valeris’ words weren’t simply a request—but a command. Even she herself felt something stir within her. The tadpole was taking something from her. Something she’d never get back, perhaps.
Suddenly, the once loud-and-proud ambusher shrunk before her, as did her cohorts beside. They looked almost… Terrified? As though they could feel the very stir of the tadpole within her brain as well. “W-We ain’t have a clue that you was a True Soul, ma’am!” The goblin trembled, hands stretched outward. Behind her, Valeris heard a low ‘How curious...’ come from Shadowheart. “You lot, fuck off! She’s a True Soul!” The leader commanded. Her cohorts slinked off along the rooftops and disappeared out of sight, presumably going back to whatever posts they were previously attending long before anyone had reached this town. “Ye won’t get anymore trouble from us, milady. That I swear!”
With that, she too wandered off out of sight, leaving the party of four with more questions than they had upon entering. “More ‘True Soul and Absolute’ mess. What’s this all mean?” Valeris asked gruffly, a hint of annoyance tugging at her brow. She turned her attention to the party, who all seemed just as inquisitive about the state of things as she was.
“So these powers let us control others? Could be useful, so long as you ignore the implications.” said Shadowheart.
“No. Absolutely not.” Lae’zel interjected. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “These... ‘powers’ are simply a symptom of the tadpole, and they should be ignored completely.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Karlach laughed. “But what say you, soldier? I don’t trust any of this shit.” The three women turned their gazes to Valeris, who seemed all but consumed with these revelations. In truth, she had no idea what to make of it all. Who are the ‘True Souls?’ Who is this ‘Absolute?’ What could using these powers spell for their futures? Would it simply speed up the process of ceremorphosis? Could others potentially use these same abilities on them? Too many variables at play.
“I have no intention on using these twisted powers,” Valeris started, granting her a small nod of approval from her githyanki companion. “Not until we know what the hell is going on. There’s too much risk involved—and I’d much rather not gamble with our lives. Let’s learn more, then come back to it.”
“Fair enough.” Shadowheart conceded. “I just hope we know what we’re getting ourselves into...” She set off about the path ahead of them, the other three following her in tow. The matter was put to rest, at least for now.
Along the overgrown cobblestone path, there were shattered wooden boxes with remnants of herbs and old bottles of wine scattered about inside. The houses lining the path were abandoned, for quite some time it seems, so long that nature itself started taking over the wood exterior of the dank old buildings. The glint of one of the wine bottles caught Shadowheart’s eye.
“Curious,” She murmured, bending down to lift the bottle up from the wood scraps. “Aged vintage...and it’s still sealed. How long do you figure it’s been here?”
“Years. Decades even.” Valeris scoffed. She peered into the bottle’s stained glass red surface, in the hopes of seeing what? Only she could know. “Do you really plan on taking this?”
“Wheyyy! I don’t see why not!” Karlach bellowed from behind. “Split it?”
Shadowhert grinned boyishly. “I don’t see why not.”
She stowed the bottle in her pack as they continued deeper into the village, maneuvering over fallen vines and trash, and even a sleeping bugbear. They scavenged whatever supplies they could find—mostly wine—at Shadowheart & Karlach’s request.
After looting two houses and returning to the main path towards the north side, it seemed that the goblins waiting at the front were the only inhabitants in this village, if not for the sudden shrieking coming from the nearby windmill to their left.
“What the—” the booming laughter of multiple goblins standing around the windmill just above the stairs cut off Valeris’ question. “What in the hells…” She silently sauntered closer to the stairs, watching the spectacle unfold for a moment.
Upon closer inspection, the goblins had a captive. A deep gnome, strapped to the front of the windmill, spinning round and round aimlessly to their heart’s content. The one closest to Valeris, a goblin with blue face paint smeared across the left side of his face. This must be the ‘Fez’ those other goblins spoke of.
“What are you doing?” Valeris questioned. Fezzerk cocked his head to the side. The other goblins behind him assumed a wordless formation, each one braced for a potential fight. Or restraining. “What’s it bloody look like? We’re teachin’ this birdie ‘ere to fly!” He gestured upward toward the struggling deep gnome. A grizzly sight to the stout of heart, and stout of heart she was.
Valeris crossed her arms, standing firm. “Release him. At once.” She demanded. “Or, I could fight you for him.” A gloved hand stroked the bottom of Valeris’ chin with her next words, “But I don’t think you’d like that very much.”
Fezzerk’s stare cut through her, his nostrils flaring as though he was trying to gage her bluff through smell alone. The goblins behind him looked more than confused when he said, “We’re leaving.”
“Huh? But what about th—'' One of his lackeys started, but was quickly interrupted. “I said we’re leavin’! There’s plenty o’ folk dumb enough to come our way. Let’s go.” Fezzerk insisted. He made one last glance toward Valeris, something unreadable in his eyes, before shoving past and heading down the cobbled stairs, followed by the other goblins and their two worgs.
“Tch. It would’ve been easier to kill them.” Lae’zel noted from behind. “There’s no point in dulling my blade against raider trash.” The half-drow replied. She circled the windmill, searching for an opening. The back of it had begun falling in on itself, probably from the stone’s water damage over time. Two red levers sat beneath the exposed mechanisms controlling the windmill. One would likely stop it, while the other would speed it up, no doubt.
At this rate, the deep gnome would likely die from getting his brain scrambled. There wasn’t much time in Valeris’ mind to discern which lever could potentially kill this man. “Honestly, whatever happens.. It’s fate. Fuck it.” She immediately pulled the first lever, and winced as she waited for what would happen.
The old wooden gears before them slowly came to a halt, and along with them, so did the windmill. “At least if you had killed him, your heart would’ve been in the right place!” Karlach teased, followed by a knowing scoff from Lae’zel. None of them had realized it yet, but Shadowheart wasn’t standing inside the shattered windmill with them.
Upon her exit out of the back, Valeris saw her standing in front of a vandalized statue of Selûne. She silently came behind her and took in the sight with her. The statue had crumbled into two pieces, with the Lady of Silver’s head sitting near the base of the statue. Red marking covered the rest of its stone body, clearly left by Sharran vandals.
Sharrans. Pieces of rotten garbage, all of them. If I find— Valeris thoughts were cut short by the splitted sound of Shadowheart yelping out before her. The wound on her hand, it was causing her pain again. Just as it had earlier in the druid’s grove.
“Nngh… It hurts.” She gasped, gingerly gripping her hand. She took a step back from the statue, only to step on the front of Valeris’ metal-clad boot and purge herself forward in surprise. “Wh— How long have you been standing there?” Shadowheart grimaced.
“Long enough,” Valeris was quick in her reply, her gaze fixed on the wound that punctured Shadowheart’s hand. “You’re in pain again. Why does this keep happening to you?” She questioned, taking a step forward.
“You already know as much as I do. Have you never met someone with chronic pain before?” Shadowheart replied snidely. Something was off. Valeris could feel it. She was hiding something from her, the truth about this wound perhaps, but she wasn’t going to press. It wasn’t her business, at least not for now anyway. There were certainly more important things on their plate right now.
“Whatever. I just hope this doesn’t get in our way at the wrong time. Now, we’ve a gnome to free, if you’re done sulking.” Valeris said coldly. She could feel something stir in her by seeing that statue. Anger. Usually she might’ve shown more concern, but not now. Not when there’s profane displays such as this occurring in an obscure town. She passed by Shadowheart, who muttered a quick “I’ll make sure not to inconvenience you again.”
Circling back around to the front of the windmill with her other companions close behind, Valeris set about freeing the gnome. He’d bluntly told her to free him with no care for his tone before she began cutting his restraints with her dagger, which she pointedly ignored in her aforementioned annoyance. The deep gnome dropped down in front here, dazed and in his own world. “Magga camera..” He muttered to himself. When he finally felt grounded enough, he turned his gaze upward. “Alright.. Out with it. What do you want?”
“Nothing.” Valeris replied. “Nothing that you could give, anyway.” A simple reply to a simple question. In her eyes, her work here was done, she did her due diligence, and now it was time to move on. She turned to leave, but was stopped. “Wait! Uh— You really don’t want anything? Strange to just free me and leave.” The man noted.
“Just as I said, you have nothing I would want.” She repeated. “But.. perhaps you could tell me how you got caught, short man.”
“What? ‘Short man?!’ My name is Barcus, thank you very much!” He said, crossing his arms and shifting awkwardly under the paladin’s piercing gaze. “But if you must know… It was my pack. The weight of it slowed me down.. Then those rogues snatched me up!”
An uneasy grunt left from Karlach. “So those fuckers are really just snatching anyone they can get their hands on. We gotta kill the head honchos, Soldier.”
Valeris turned her head. “So it would seem. Tell me something I don’t know.” She sighed, “Well, thanks for the information anyway. But that still doesn’t explain why you were out here to begin with.”
“You’re welcome, I suppose. The only reason I came out here was because of this..” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an aged bronze amulet. “I gave this to a friend of mine a long time ago... I was out here searching for him, because I found it on some lower city bandit.”
“Ah. Did you pick up a trail?”
“Not exactly... But I think the underdark is my best bet for now.” The gnome tucks the amulet back into his pocket, then shuffles awkwardly. “I’ll be travelling lightly from now on. If we meet again, well.. we’ll have met again.” With that, Barus set off on his search, leaving the party behind. Valeris’ gaze followed the man until he was well out of sight.
“Interesting man. Wonder if we’ll actually see him again, or if he’ll die on the road.”
That night at camp was a quiet one. Gale & Wyll sat around the campfire, preparing the gruel and pork sausage that the party had scavenged a few days prior. Astarion sat a few feet behind them, drinking thick red fluid from a silver goblet in his left hand, and reading a tome in his right. Lae’zel was, as always, sharpening her greatsword on the ever-spinning whetstone near her tent. Across the camp from her, Karlach was kneeled over on the rug outside of her own tent, bowl in hand, eating some of the first servings of Gale’s gruel.
The only two unaccounted for seemed to be... Valeris & Shadowheart. Their tents were on two completely opposite sides of the campsite, yet they faced directly at one another. Most nights, Valeris would spend her time in solitude away from the others, only coming to the fire for a meal. This particular night was different however. She found herself guilt-stricken with how she had accosted Shadowheart for her wound. It’d make her poor company to lash out at a moment's notice—and even poorer company if she hadn’t tried to make amends. So, she set out to do just that.
Valeris went over to Shadowheart’s tent and stood at the opening, figuring out what she wanted to say and how. She wasn’t the best with words, especially when it came to apologies. Would her flat tone make it seem as though her words were insincere? Should she bring an apology gift? Or is that too over the top? What if—
She didn’t have any more time to gather her thoughts. The curtains of the tent flung open with one grand swish, and a tired Shadowheart stared up at her looming figure. In the moon’s luminescent light, the cleric’s pale green eyes shimmered. “Is there a particular reason you’re standing outside of my tent? Or are you intent on being bothersome today?”
“Why does the air suddenly feel so thick?” Valeris thought. She cleared her throat and puffed out her chest, any and all willpower to figure out what was going on in her head dissipating. “I… I wanted to say I’m sorry.” She muttered. For a long moment, silence filled the air between them. Valeris’ lungs got heavier with each passing second, but she felt clueless as to why. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and just as she goes to say something, Shadowheart speaks.
“What are you apologizing for exactly?” She asks.
“Don’t you remember?” Valeris grunts, confused by the question. “In that village near the statue, I brushed off your pain. I was irked by something else and I took it out on you, and for that I’m sorry.”
“Ah,” Shadowheart replied, running her fingers through her hair. She’d taken down her circlet and braid for the day in exchange for a comfy sleep. Long black strands of hair fell past her shoulders, and her sharp cut bangs and fringe still framed her face, even like this. She noticed the way Valeris’ eyes brushed across her features, taking a mental note of the way her breath hitched at the sight of her dark purple nightgown. “And what had you in such a tizzy?” She smiles.
“I..” Valeris cleared her throat once more, turning her head away. “The vandalized statue… it was Selûne. My goddess. The sight of such displays… it was more than upsetting.” When she turned her head back, Shadowheart’s smile had faded into an unreadable expression.
“You’re a Selûnite?” She asked, undetectable in her intentions.
Valeris shuffled under her gaze. “I am. The Moonmaiden has been my guiding light for quite some time. I thought the pale hair and silver armor would’ve given it away.” She chuckled.
“It should have,” Shadowheart admitted, shaking her head. For some reason, it felt like she was talking to herself more than she was to Valeris. “I don’t know how that slipped past me, but it explains quite a bit.”
“You ‘don’t know how it slipped past you?’ What does that mean?” The half-drow questioned, her brow furrowed.
Shadowheart shook her head again. “Nothing. I appreciate you coming to me about it.” She let out a small chuckle. “If I’m honest, you’re sweet. I hadn’t thought about it at all.”
A subtle flush snuck across Valeris’ luminous skin. She looked as though she had been kissed by the moon or Selûne herself. Were all half-drow even half as beautiful as she? The ivory tattoos that spidered up her cheekbones wrinkled as she smiled. She tried not to linger on Shadowheart’s words, lest she make a fool of herself. “I should leave you to it, then.” She turned on her heel to leave, but felt a small tug at her shirt sleeve. Pale eyes met Shadowheart’s gaze.
“Don’t leave just yet.” She says, letting go of Valeris’ shirt. “I remember you saying you wanted to get to know each other more the other day.” Valeris watched pointedly at the shorter woman’s hand as it left her arm.
“I did. But I recall you saying that there’s no harm in a little mystery.”
Shadowheart smiles before brushing one of the drapes to the entrance of her tent to the side. “I’m feeling generous after your little display. Come. Let’s get to know each other.” She walked deeper inside her tent, leaving the paladin to follow in behind her. And follow she did, even in her confusion.
The inside of Shadowheart’s tent smelled of lavender and mint. Where she’d found time to collect such herbs was anyone's guess. Towards the far end, violet colored pillows with thin gold satin lines across the bottom sat atop a makeshift blanket pallet. Wax candles, incense, a book and a small potted plant surrounded the pallet, as though she’d been reading just before Valeris intruded.
Valeris’ first thought was: Where the hell did she even get all this stuff? But the first thing to leave her mouth was a much different question. “Are you much of a reader?” The two of them sat down on the pallet only a few feet from one another.
“From time to time. Though I’ll admit, It’s been quite some time since I’ve finished anything. And now with our situation...” Shadowheart glanced at her as she trailed off. Valeris had rolled up her sleeves exposing her heavily scarred forearms. One scar spanned the entirety of her left arm. The jagged edges and small patches of healed burnt flesh suggested that whatever weapon had struck her, it was not only heavy and curved, but hot .
Shadowheart’s eyes trailed up the entire scar then to Valeris’ eyes, which were already staring back at her. “That must’ve been painful. Do you mind if I ask how you got it?”
“It was,” Valeris said, staring at her own arms. She reached upward, touching the blueish purple burn scar on her face that spanned from the right side of her forehead, over her eye, and onto her cheek. “It was a very painful day indeed. One I try my best not to think or speak of.”
Sharp thoughts lingered in Valeris’ mind and the world lost its edges. Thoughts of a forest, a home, a life, and a love. All things that were lost to her now, and had been for years. What shreds of life she had life behind now left her marked forever, whether it be for the best or worst, she had no idea. All she knew was that it was gone.
“We don’t have to talk about it, then.” Shadowheart turned her body to face her, and Valeris nodded. She gently brushed her shoulder against Valeris’ as she leaned in closer. “But, if you don’t mind my saying.. I do think they add character to you. The good kind, if you’re wondering.” The comment snapped Valeris out of her train of thought completely.
“What?”
It was instant. Valeris felt her breath hitch, with it came a sudden swell of warmth in her stomach that threatened to fall lower if Shadowheart dared to come closer. Her brow furrowed with focus as she coughed, pushing down the feeling. “What? What do you mean?” She mustered the strength to ask again.
The cleric laughed. It was too easy in her mind. Child’s play, even. It wasn’t a lie, more so a half-truth. “Don’t play coy, Selûnite. I see the way you look at me. The way your eyes follow the small of my back. Almost as if wanting something more. As if wanting to stab me, perhaps. Or maybe even grab my hips.” She watched as Valeris steeled under her watchful eyes. It was always a joy to see how someone so confident could be reduced to an unsure mess with the right words. The space between them felt thicker than it had been, and somehow less flirtatious. Something in the way Shadowheart enunciated the word Selûnite set off alarm bells in the half-drow’s mind, even if she seemed to be coming onto her at face value... she could almost taste the disdain coming from the word in her mouth.
Sharrans. The sworn worshippers of Lady Shar. Mistress of the Night, and the Lady of Loss. Could it be, that Shadowheart is—
Valeris knew that sharrans were trickers, capable of deceiving and betraying any and all who would put the smallest amount of faith in them. But to think that one had been among her this entire time? A building lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She knew the answer to her own question before she even asked it.
“So tell me, Valeris.” Shadowheart whispered. The jig was up, that much was clear from Valeris’ expression alone. All the secrecy, the brooding and dark attire, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t put it together until this moment. Paladins and their pride. “What is it that you want?”
“I want an answer. An honest one.” Valeris muttered, her voice thick with disdain. “Are you a servant of Shar?” Shadowheart’s hand gently traced circles around the aforementioned burn scar on Valeris’ arm, staring down at it. She could feel the paladin flinch at her touch, but she made no moves to stop her.
“A very direct question.” She chuckled.
“One that requires a very direct answer.”
Pale green eyes flickered back toward Valeris’ direction. Only this time, Shadowheart’s disposition was clear as day. The displeasure on her face could snuff out even the tiniest glimmer of light. This was an expression of not only hatred, but of pure disgust of an enemy so ancient that even she could not quantify it.
“I am a servant of Lady Shar. Mistress of the Night and Lady of Loss. You ought to do well with remembering the “Lady” part, lest I glean your tongue from your mouth, Selûnite.”
Valeris’ eyes narrowed. She’d hoped it wasn’t so. That she hadn’t been led into a trap. That perhaps, they could have truly gotten to know each other more. She yanked her arm from Shadowheart, scoffing as she pulled the sleeves of her tunic down. “You would die trying, Sharran pawn. Maybe that’s what you’d prefer, attempting to pull a stunt like that,” She said, rising up from her spot on the pallet as she did so. “I didn’t agree to join up with a Sharran.”
“Then fetch the bailiff to arrest me!” Shadowheart threw her hands up in the air, her hair falling down her back. “Oh wait,” She smiled, holding defiant eye-contact with Valeris. “You can’t. There’s nothing out here but woods, the dead of night, and you and I.”
She was met with only an unending silent glare. She couldn’t tell if Valeris wanted to attack her, or if she was disappointed. As usual she was unreadable as ever. What stirred behind those silver eyes of hers? Hatred? Disappointed? Shadowheart sighed before going on, “We can talk about this more, only if you’re willing to see reason.”
“Perhaps another time,” Valeris muttered. “I think I’ve had enough of you for one day. Perhaps even a lifetime.” She set about leaving, not offering so much as another word.
“Aw, don’t be so dramatic. You would have found out sooner or later, it’s not like I want my only hope of survival to be you, either.” Shadowheart mocked. She waved her hand at Valeris’ back as she laid down on the pallet. “Try not to hurt yourself on your own self-righteousness on the way out.”
Valeris pointedly ignored her and ducked as she parted the entrance of the tent and made her exit, leaving Shadowheart with only the ghost of her presence from moments before.
The cleric, now alone, sighed and pulled one of her pillows up over her face.
”Great.”