The streets of Baldur’s Gate were alive with noise, though it wasn’t the joyous hum of celebration that many had imagined. Instead, the sounds were raw and weary—the cries of the wounded, the clash of rebuilding efforts, and the occasional raucous cheer when someone remembered that the city had survived at all. The battle against the Nether Brain was over, the infection quelled, but victory had come at a price.
Sena moved through the crowd like a shadow, her small frame making it easy to slip unnoticed past groups of soldiers and civilians. Her eyes scanned the chaos, taking in the makeshift camps and shattered buildings. Baldur’s Gate had been her home once—but she felt no urge to stay. The air was thick with memories she didn’t want to touch, and the city’s embrace felt suffocating rather than familiar.
She paused at the edge of a crumbled fountain, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her dagger. Plain and sturdy, its only adornment was a small ruby-like stone set into the hilt, catching the light as she shifted her hand—a constant companion since she was sixteen. Sena had been many things in her life—a rogue, a thief, a survivor—but the battles alongside her companions had uncovered skills she still didn’t fully understand, skills that had kept her alive even before the horrors of the tadpoles, the Absolute, and the Nether Brain. Now that the chaos had settled, her mind drifted back to her past—and the mission she had been pursuing before the nautiloid ripped her from her path. The questions she had tried to bury gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice behind her. “So, this is it then?” Shadowheart stood a few paces away, her pale face soft in the golden afternoon light. Her white hair, usually neat, was disheveled, and there was a weight to her posture that hadn’t been there before.
Sena turned slightly, her lips tugging into the faintest of smiles. “You’re staying.” She said. It wasn’t a question, she knew.
Shadowheart nodded, her gaze drifting to the rubble-strewn streets. “There’s so much to rebuild. So many lives to mend. I feel… I feel like I can help here. Like I should.”
Sena didn’t respond immediately, her eyes following a group of children playing amid the wreckage. “It suits you,” she said finally.
They had grown closer in the time since the nautiloid. Shadowheart’s journey—her search for truth, the light she’d found after so much darkness—had been hard-won, and Sena admired her for it. They were similar in so many ways, their lives shaped by secrets and scars, yet Shadowheart had begun to face her past and make peace with it. Sena longed for the same. She knew she couldn’t move forward until she confronted what lay behind her.
“And you?” Shadowheart asked, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Where will you go?”
After a moment, Sena glanced around before speaking. “Not here,” she said finally. Then, shifting the weight of her pack, she allowed a faint smile. “I need to move. See what’s next.”
Shadowheart studied her, but nodded. She didn’t press, and Sena appreciated that. Shadowheart knew the same gnawing pull of a dark past demanding to be addressed and understood what Sena meant, even in her vagueness. “Be safe, Sena,” Shadowheart said at last.
Sena gave her a small nod in return, grateful for the unspoken understanding between them.
----------------------------------------
The next few days passed in a blur of goodbyes and lingering uncertainty. Lae’zel, ever the warrior, departed first, her mission clear: to carve her place among the githyanki free of Vlaakith’s control. Karlach and Wyll were next. Karlach, unable to remain in the material plane without her infernal engine consuming her, made the impossible choice to return to the Hells. Wyll, true to his word and his heart, vowed to follow her, bound by loyalty and love. Their farewells were bittersweet, the promise of their bond unbroken even in the face of damnation.
Astarion lingered one evening, standing apart from the others as the group dwindled, waiting for Sena. He looked lost, unsure how to move forward after the climactic end to Cazador’s tyranny but refusing the path of ascension. He tried to joke—something about how he’s better suited for nightlife—but Sena could see the loneliness creeping into his expression, the weight of centuries lived in servitude.
“You don’t have to stay,” Sena said softly, stepping closer.
Astarion gave her a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his crimson eyes. “Oh, but I do. I need… time, I think. To figure out who I am now, without him looming over me. And Baldur’s Gate, for all its filth, feels familiar. The shadows and I, well, we’ve always been close companions.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t have to do this alone, but she knew he’d made up his mind. They had become friends in a way neither of them had anticipated, their banter hiding an unspoken understanding. Leaving him behind felt heavier than she expected.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t look at me like that, darling. I’ll be fine.” His voice was light, but the cracks in it betrayed him.
Sena managed a small smile, her voice steady even as her chest tightened. “Take care of yourself, Astarion.”
“And you,” he replied softly, his smirk faint but genuine. “Wherever it is you’re running off to.”
Their goodbye was quiet. As Sena walked away, she glanced back one last time, catching the silhouette of him standing there, his figure sharp in the moonlight against crumbling walls. Baldur’s Gate was emptying of the people she had fought beside, leaving only echoes of shared battles and the weight of their farewells.
But one voice followed her still.
“You look like a caged bird, you know,” Gale said, his voice smooth as he found her near the docks. His robes were neatly mended, but his face carried the same weariness she felt. “Itching to fly but not quite sure where to go.”
Sena glanced up from where she was, her wavy black hair pulled back into its usual messy bun. “And what about you, Gale? You’re still here.”
“For now,” Gale said, folding his arms and leaning against the wooden post. “But Waterdeep calls, and I think you’d enjoy it. At the very least, it would give you a chance to breathe—perhaps even enjoy a glass of wine without dodging arrows.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Sena laughed softly, “I don’t see you as the quiet retirement type.”
“Retirement?” Gale chuckled. “Hardly. But a reprieve, maybe. And you… you seem like someone who could use one too.”
She hesitated, the words settling between them. “Waterdeep, huh?”
Gale smiled faintly, the kind of smile that spoke of both understanding and patience. “A place for new beginnings. Or at the very least, a distraction.”
Sena glanced toward the horizon, the faint hum of the bustling docks blending with the sound of waves against the stone. The idea of staying in Baldur’s Gate felt stifling, yet the thought of leaving to close the chapter behind made her chest tighten. After a long pause, she exhaled softly and nodded. “Alright. Lead the way.”
----------------------------------------
Waterdeep was breathtaking in a way that unsettled Sena. It was a city of glittering towers and bustling streets, its spires catching the sunlight and reflecting it like shards of crystal. Gale had taken it upon himself to show her everything—its sprawling libraries, bustling marketplaces, and the serene gardens tucked away within temples. Sena had never seen anything like it, and for brief moments, she could imagine what it might be like to settle here. The thought was fleeting, though. She couldn’t even think about staying until her past was dealt with—if that day ever came.
The idea of peace felt distant, impossible to grasp when her thoughts were so far away. No matter how much she tried to take in Waterdeep’s beauty, her mind was elsewhere. Astarion’s face lingered, a vivid memory from their goodbye in Baldur’s Gate. She could still see the flicker of loneliness behind his carefully crafted smirk. But Sena had seen through it, and the thought of him confined to the night haunted her.
She had tried to find a cure for vampirism—tried and failed. Halsin had told her it wasn’t possible. Withers had been cryptic as ever. Even so, she couldn’t let it go. If there was something, anything, that could make Astarion’s existence less cruel, she had to find it. The libraries in Waterdeep, vast and ancient, had offered a glimmer of hope, and Sena threw herself into the search with relentless determination. She spent hours combing through dusty tomes, her fingers brushing over faded text and crumbling pages. It wasn’t long before Gale noticed her obsession.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” he had said one afternoon, stepping into the study where she’d surrounded herself with books. He didn’t press her—not at first. But when she finally explained what she was searching for, Gale had simply nodded and pulled up a chair. “Let’s see what we can find,” he’d said, and that was that.
It was Gale who found it.
The room was dim, lit by the soft glow of mage lights that hovered above their heads. Gale’s voice broke the silence as he slid a thick tome across the table toward her, his expression both cautious and intrigued. “Have you heard of this?” he asked.
Sena glanced at him, then down at the open page. Her breath caught as her eyes fell on the illustration: a locket with a golden crystal at its center, its intricate veins of magic etched into the surrounding metal like roots. The accompanying text described its purpose in detail, but Gale spoke first.
“The Necklace of Azrisol. A relic that grants its wearer immunity to sunlight—or so the stories go.” He said, thoughtfully.
Sena stared at the page, her fingers brushing against the edges of the illustration. “It’s real?”
“It was,” Gale replied, leaning back slightly. “Whether it still exists, well, that’s a different question entirely.”
Her heart raced, hope swelling in her chest despite the doubts. The thought of Astarion walking in the daylight again, free from the constant shadow of his curse, was almost too much to believe. “This could help him,” she said, more to herself than to Gale.
Gale studied her for a long moment, his sharp gaze softening. “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”
“He doesn’t deserve this,” Sena said firmly, lifting her eyes to meet his. “After everything he’s been through… this isn’t how it should end for him.”
Gale’s smile was faint but understanding. “Then it seems we’ve found our next adventure.”
Sena stood abruptly, the determination in her movements clear as she gathered the book and tucked it under her arm. “I’m going to Baldur’s Gate,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ll bring him here. And then we’ll find it.”
“Of course,” Gale said easily, rising from his chair. “You didn’t think I’d let you go alone, did you? You’ll need someone to decipher ancient scripts, disarm traps, and occasionally share a dramatic monologue on the nuances of arcane theory.”
Sena laughed softly, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck.”
His grin widened as he reached for his own pack. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. But let’s be honest—Waterdeep is beautiful, yes, but it’s not quite as exciting as chasing down a mythical artifact with you.”
For the first time in days, Sena allowed herself a small, genuine smile. “Let’s hope you can keep up, wizard.”
With that, the decision was made.
----------------------------------------
The journey to recover the Necklace of Azrisol was more difficult than any of them had expected. Sena, Gale, and Astarion followed a trail of obscure texts, faded maps, and reluctant scholars, bribing their way through Waterdeep’s archives until they finally uncovered the location—an ancient crypt beneath a ruined monastery.
The air was thick with dust and decay, and every step forward stirred something unnerving in the darkness. The crypt had been sealed with curses, just as the rumors had warned. Riddles carved into stone, hidden mechanisms, and forgotten passageways stood between them and the relic. Sena had a knack for spotting the details others missed, and over time, they had all learned how to move together, anticipating each other’s strengths.
Trials, mazes, wraiths, traps. Every challenge felt relentless, yet together, they pushed forward.
When they finally reached the inner sanctum, the Necklace of Azrisol rested on a pedestal, glowing faintly in the dim chamber. The room was silent, heavy with the weight of ancient magic. As Sena stepped forward to retrieve it, the air around them grew colder, and for a moment, it felt as though the crypt itself resisted their intrusion. But the moment passed, and as her fingers closed around the artifact, the oppressive tension lifted.
Later, outside of the tombs, she handed the necklace to Astarion. For a long moment, he simply stared at it. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual, devoid of its usual sharpness. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said, his crimson eyes meeting hers. There was something in his gaze, something that made the words linger in the air between them.
“I know,” Sena replied simply.
----------------------------------------
Back in Waterdeep, Sena stood by the harbor, her pack slung over her shoulder. The city was alive with activity, the sound of waves against the docks mingling with the chatter of merchants and sailors. Gale and Astarion flanked her, both watching her with quiet curiosity.
“So,” Gale said, breaking the silence. “What’s next?”
Sena turned her gaze to the horizon, her dark eyes narrowing slightly, the faintest hint of determination sharpening her features. “I’m going to finish what I started.”
Astarion hummed, turning to her with a smirk. “ Ah, secrets and dramatic proclamations—how very you . Are we supposed to guess, or will you deign to enlighten us?”
She met his gaze briefly, her expression softening. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”
“When we get there,” Gale corrected.
Sena blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in his voice. Before she could respond, Astarion let out a dramatic sigh. “Yes, yes, we all have an alarming lack of self-preservation, don’t we? Fine. I suppose I’ll grace this little quest with my presence. Wouldn’t want you two getting lost without me.”
A flicker of a smile crossed her lips, rare and fleeting. “Thank you,” she murmured.
She hesitated, glancing between them. “I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”
Gale reached out, a light, grounding touch at her arm. “That’s fine,” he said, offering a small smile. “We love a good adventure.”
As Sena turned and began walking, Gale and Astarion fell into step beside her. The city of Waterdeep faded into the distance behind them, the road ahead uncertain but beckoning.