Chapter Text
The night is quiet, the kind of stillness that settles in my bones and refuses to leave. The full moon spills silver over the river, turning the water into shifting glass, while the stars hang above like knives in the sky. The slow ripple of water cuts through the silence, offering no comfort—just a reminder that life moves on, with or without me. I curl my toes into the cold, damp sand. It doesn’t help.
Memories flicker like ghosts—broken, fragmented, impossible to hold on to.
A flash of red. Pain exploding at the back of my head. Alien ship. Fire. Smoke—thick, choking.
My mind recoils.
Images strike me like blows. Too fast to process.
A githyanki warrior, sword arcing toward my neck. A dragon’s wing, beating the air. A silver sword gleams, catching the light. My own face reflected in Lae’zel’s eyes.
An illithid pod. Cries for help. Darkness. The glow of a dark orb in Shadowheart’s breastplate, the only thing visible.
A sigil pulsing purple. My hand clutching someone else’s—a wizard with sharp, intelligent eyes. Gale.
A sharp pulse flares behind my eyes, the parasite twisting deep into my skull—stirring, writhing against bone. We all carry this curse, this damned thing buried in our heads since the crash—an illithid tadpole the mind flayers left behind.
I try to push through the fog, to remember anything about myself, but my mind is a locked door. Beyond the last day? Blank. Only darkness. I stare into the dark depths of the river, wishing it would offer some hint, some clue.
Who am I?
Footsteps crunch on the sand behind me. My muscles tense.
“Evening, Hedera. Mind if I join you?” Gale’s voice is steady, polite—like we’re not both being eaten alive from the inside.
“Go ahead,” I say warily.
He sinks into the sand beside me, eyes flickering briefly to the stars before settling on me. There’s a softness in them, always that hint of a smile—like he knows something I don’t.
“Ceremorphosis. What does it make you think of?”
The word sends a chill through me. “Not much, but I suspect you’ll be the one to change that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it brief.” He gives me a small smile. “Thanks to the tadpole, we should be well past the invasive symptoms by now, yet here we are. Our orifices remain blissfully unbloodied, our minds clear, our bodies—remarkably intact.”
“And that’s… bad?”
“Let’s call it alarming. This is unprecedented. Our condition is entirely undocumented—uncharted territory.” His brow furrows. “The silence before the storm.”
A cold sweat breaks out on my skin despite the night’s chill.
“Something to think about.” Gale stands, his gaze lingering on me. “Get some rest. We need it.”
I listen to his footsteps fade into the night. My body coils tight, heart hammering. Rest? There’s no rest when something alien is curled up inside my skull.
Time slips away as I stare blankly at the river, but sleep—sleep doesn’t come.
Shouts jolt me awake, my body instantly on alert. I spring to my feet. Shadowheart and Lae'zel stand face-to-face. Nearby, Gale watches, face tight with worry. His hands hover, ready to intervene.
“And who put you in charge?” Shadowheart asks, eyes narrowed to slits.
“I will not turn into a ghaik because of cowardice,” Lae'zel snaps. “I’ll find my way to the crèche with or without you.”
I step between them. “What’s going on?”
Lae'zel turns to me, eyes blazing. “We shouldn’t waste time searching for a healer. We must focus on finding a githyanki crèche.”
Githyanki crèches—hidden, fortified enclaves where their young are raised and trained. Entering one uninvited would be suicidal, even for Lae'zel. Her people aren’t known for mercy.
“We have no proof that your crèche will help us,” Shadowheart says. “For all we know, they’ll kill us on sight.”
“The crèche is our best hope,” Lae'zel tells her. “The kith'rak there will understand our condition and offer aid.”
Shadowheart lifts her chin. “My caution keeps me alive. Walking into a den of githyanki is a fool’s errand.”
“The ghaik’s hold over us tightens with every moment we waste,” Lae'zel snarls. “I will not die because of your ignorance.”
“Better paranoia than blind faith in your people’s goodwill.” Shadowheart looks at me, eyes pleading. “We need to find a safer way.”
“Safer?” Lae'zel’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “There is no safety in delay. Only death or worse. I will go to the crèche with or without you, k'chakhi.”
“Enough. Gale, take Lae'zel aside. Let her cool off.” I turn to Shadowheart. “Let’s scout ahead for a settlement. We need supplies.”
She crosses her arms, still bristling. “Fine. But we need to be careful.”
The ship’s wreckage splits the beach in two, its ashen skeleton looming over the landscape. Twisted bodies litter the sand, broken and burned beyond recognition.
How did we survive when so many didn’t?
I hesitate as I pass one corpse, a cold shiver running down my spine. Something stirs deep inside me—alien, cold. My hand hovers near the body. Unbidden, I smile. When was the last time I stood over a body like this?
Flashes of flesh piled in a mass grave. Shadows. Claws. Blood. The images vanish too quickly. I shake my head, pushing down the wrongness coiling in my chest.
We push through the wreckage, the bright sunlight making me squint. A broken cart, crates of rotting fruit, fishing boats stranded on the shore—waiting for owners who’ll never return. Deep scorch marks trail ahead, disappearing under the dense canopy of trees.
We follow the trail, pushing aside low-hanging branches, and stumble upon a smoking mind flayer pod. The door is ajar.
“Anyone in there?” Shadowheart asks me.
“Empty.”
“Help! Over here!” someone shouts.
Through the foliage, I spot a figure atop a hill—an elf, waving frantically. “Shh, quiet,” he hisses, urging us closer.
I signal for Shadowheart to hang back as I approach, and scan the area for any sign of a trap. The only movement comes from the birds flitting through the trees, but something still feels off.
The elf stands slightly taller than me, white, flowing hair framing an unnaturally beautiful face. His eyes gleam in the sun like rubies. He wears an expensive looking padded doublet, but the dark blue fabric is unraveling in places. Two circular scars mar his neck. They resemble puncture wounds.
“There, in the grass,” he whispers urgently. “Do you see it? One of those mind flayer beasts.”
I step closer—too close. A flash of steel. An arm locks around my waist, cold metal pressing to my throat.
“Shh. Not a sound, darling,” he purrs into my ear. “And you,” he nods toward Shadowheart, “keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”
“I need her alive,” Shadowheart tells him. “Drop the blade, or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.”
“Promises, promises,” the elf taunts. He presses the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood. “But I have other business. I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”
Shadowheart takes a step closer.
The knife digs deeper.
Enough.
I slam my head back, something crunches. He gasps, grip loosening. I twist, driving my elbow into his gut. He doubles over. I wrench his wrist, sending the knife clattering to the ground.
I draw my dagger, pressing the tip into his pale throat.
He’s frozen, eyes burning with fury as blood trickles over his chin. “You wretched little—”
My mind twists, hit by a sudden surge of memories. I’m prowling dark streets, hunting. Hungry. Tasting blood. I fight to hold on to the memory, but it fades into the pulse behind my eyes—the parasite writhing. He’s infected too.
“What in the hells… What did you do to me?” he demands.
“Oh, I’m about to do something to you, all right.” I press the dagger deeper—
“Hedera, wait!”
My hand stills.
Shadowheart steps closer, her gaze flicking between us. “He’s infected—like us. Don’t do something rash.”
The elf’s expression shifts instantly, his anger giving way to something calculating. “Of course. A misunderstanding. I thought you were thralls.”
“Let me heal your nose.” Shadowheart chants, a soft turquoise glow enveloping her hands. She cups his cheeks gently, the energy knitting his broken nose in the blink of an eye.
“There.” She pulls back, studying him.
“Thank you, my dear. I am forever in your debt.” He smiles, catching her hand in his. “My name is Astarion.”
“Shadowheart,” she replies stiffly, pulling free. “And she’s Hedera.”
He doesn’t even glance at me, his attention locked on her. “Such a grim name for such a beautiful flower.”
“Right,” Shadowheart mutters. “We’re scouting for a settlement and a healer. You’re welcome to join.”
My eyes never leave him. A charmer. I can already tell he’ll be trouble.
“Sticking with the flock seems wise,” he replies smoothly, though his gaze sharpens when it lands on me. “I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure.”
“Step out of line, and the pleasure will be mine.” I smile.
“Oh, how lovely. I’ll consider myself warned.”
As we continue up the worn path, he walks beside Shadowheart, chatting her up. I stay to the back, eyes boring into the back of his skull.
My mind hums with thoughts of his perfect, pretty corpse.