The bandits’ frantic footsteps fade into the distance, their panicked muttering swallowed by the crash of waves against the rocky shore below. I stand on the edge of the ruin’s weathered – but solid -- roof. The morning sun climbs higher, its golden light spilling across the ruin’s broken arches and moss-stained stones, casting long dawn shadows that stretch toward the wilderness to the west. The air’s thick with salt and the faint, earthy tang of wet rock, a welcome reprieve from the stench of demon blood still clotting my skin.
I realize that I’m an absolute mess—half-dried black-red muck is dripping from my arms, streaked across my chest, even matting my hair beneath this (admittedly ridiculous) fishing hat. Karlach’s no better, Cambion guts tangled in her hair like some grisly trophy, her red skin glistening with sweat and ichor under the dawn’s glow.
I turn to the group, wiping a smear of blood from my jaw with the back of my hand – but succeeding only in smearing my face further with the muck.
“Alright, everyone, listen up. Shadowheart, Lae’zel—go and scout the immediate area. Check the perimeter, see what’s around, but don’t go far. Karlach and I need to wash this crap off in the ocean before it crusts over worse than it already has. When we’re back, you two can take your turn while we set up a proper camp here.” I pause, catching the faint twitch in Lae’zel’s jaw and the way Shadowheart’s violet eyes narrow slightly. “Oh, and do try not to kill each other while we’re gone,” I add, my voice only half-joking—because, as someone who has played both classic and VR versions of Baldur’s Gate 3 more than a few times, I know that Act 1 can turn into a bloodbath between these two faster than you can say “Astral Sphere.” As I turn to leave, I gesture absently toward the ruin beneath us. “Oh, and don’t go poking around in there without me either—might be a powerful lich sleeping inside.”
Shadowheart’s brow arches, her lips parting in a mix of disbelief and curiosity, while Lae’zel’s golden eyes widen a fraction, her hand tightening on her sword. I ignore them, for now.
“Let’s go, hot stuff. Ocean’s calling.” I don’t look back, but I can feel their incredulous stares boring into me as I stride off the roof, Karlach falling in beside me with a low chuckle.
“Hot stuff, huh?” she teases, her tail flicking playfully as we pick our way down the cliffside path toward the shore.
“Am I wrong?” I playfully respond.
The descent’s quick, and, soon enough, a trail of rocky sand is crunching under my feet and salt spray is misting my skin as we hit the beach. The sea stretches out before us, a shimmering expanse of gold and blue, waves lapping at the pebbled shore with a rhythmic hiss. I wade in first, the refreshingly chilled water attacking my ankles, then my thighs, washing away the disgusting grime in dark, swirling tendrils. Karlach follows, and damn if it isn’t a sight worth savoring.
She steps into the surf with a swagger, her muscular frame cutting through the waves like she owns them. The water laps against her red skin, glistening in the sunlight, turning her into a living flame against the sea’s cool embrace. The infernal engine in her chest pulses, a fierce orange glow that dances across the waves, steam rising where it meets the water, curling into the air like a lover’s sigh. Her dark hair, matted with guts, loosens under the tide’s pull, strands floating free, slick and glossy, framing her face in wild, untamed waves. She ducks under, resurfacing with a gasp, water streaming down her neck, her shoulders, tracing the contours of her biceps and the swell of her chest—strong, fierce, and undeniably feminine. Her tail slashes freely through the surf, sending droplets flying, each one catching the sun like a spark. She grins, sharp and bright, shaking her head to fling the last of the filth away, and I can’t help but stare, caught by the raw, fiery beauty of her, all power and defiance wrapped in that devilish charm.
“Gods, that feels good,” she says, voice rough with relief, splashing water over her arms. “I… I never thought I would see the ocean again. I still can’t believe we made it… Now, if only this damned blood would wash off faster, it would be perfect!”
I vigorously scrub at my own skin, the demon blood peeling off in clumps, sinking into the sea like ink. “Yeah, well, we were a walking horror show. Had to try to get this off before it starts stinking worse than a draugr’s crypt.” I dunk my head, letting the cold shock rinse the last of the crusty muck from my hair, then surface, shaking water from my eyes.
“So, Karlach,” I say, keeping my tone casual as I wade closer, “I woke up naked, covered in soot, and wrapped in those… what’d Zhalk call ‘em? Suppression Chains? You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
She freezes mid-splash, her grin faltering, and there’s a flicker of guilt in those red eyes—quick, but I catch it. She straightens, water dripping from her chin, and rubs the back of her neck, suddenly sheepish. “Alright, fine. You wanna know about the chains? It’s tied to a job I got from Zariel—that’s my old boss, the Archduchess of Avernus, first layer of the Hells. She’s a fallen angel, real nasty piece of work—used to be all holy and righteous, fighting demons in the Blood War, ‘til she got obsessed with winning at any cost. Fell so hard she turned into a devil herself, horns, wings, the whole deal. Rules Avernus now, commands legions of devils, and doesn’t take kindly to failure.”
Karlach grimaces, continuing to splash water over her arms as if trying to wash off her recent memories. “Me, I didn’t sign up for her army by choice. Grew up in Baldur’s Gate, Outer City—rough place, but I had folks, a life. Then when I was just a kid, my parents died. Had to do what I could, fend for myself. When I was barely sixteen—this bastard Gortash, some slime I worked for as a bodyguard, sold me out. Traded me to Zariel for a sack of gold to fund his schemes. Next thing I know, I’m in Avernus, heart ripped out, replaced with this damned infernal engine.” She taps her chest, where the glow pulses hot and angry. “Been her soldier ever since—ten years of fighting, bleeding, doing her dirty work. No way out ‘til that tentacled ship snatched me.”
She takes a breath, eyes flicking away like she’s ashamed to meet mine. “Anyway, this job—she sent me and a crew to check out Tiamat’s domain. You know, Tiamat? The Dragon Goddess, five heads, real terror, locked up in Avernus? Zariel got word of a massive explosion down there—mushroom cloud big enough to see from her citadel, scrying magic failing, the works. Figured something big went down, and she doesn’t like unknowns screwing with her war plans.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“And so, she sent you?” I asked, starting to piece things together.
She nodded. “Yes. She sent me and a team of Devils to poke around, report back. That’s where we found you—right in the middle of it. A crater where Tiamat’s lair used to be, huge, smoking, gold melted into puddles, artifacts smashed to bits, and you—buck naked, covered in soot, just lying there like you’d dropped out of the sky. No Tiamat, no Dragons, no clerics, no nothing—just you and a whole lotta questions. The Devils couldn’t wake you, figured you were dead at first, but then you twitched, and they just about lost their damn minds.”
She paused, gathering her thoughts. “We all thought you might know something—maybe even caused whatever happened.” She shivers, her voice going softer.
“Please understand. Zariel… she doesn’t like loose ends, and nobody wanted her wrath if the mission went tits-up, so they slapped the strongest Infernal Iron suppression chains they had on you. Enchanted devil stuff, meant to keep you locked down tight. Plan was to haul you back to her fortress… interrogate you, figure out what the hells happened.”
I stare at her, the pieces clicking into place, my mind racing back to that white-hot flash after I leapt from the Throat of the World.
I still couldn’t remember anything afterwards.
“And then?”
She grimaces, kicking at the water. “Then that tentacle show appeared. Swooped in, snatched me and a bunch of others—including your unconscious ass—before we could blink. I think Zhalk threw together a quick ‘rescue effort’ to get us back, probably to save his own hide from Zariel’s temper. You know the rest—woke up in a pod, broke out, punched his face into next week.”
She trails off, her grin fading completely, and she looks at me, guilt etched into every line of her face. “I’m sorry, Harald. I didn’t—look, I was just following orders, yeah? Didn’t know you then, didn’t know what you’d turn out to be. If I’d—”
Her words cut off abruptly, and I see it—the glow in her chest flaring brighter, too bright. Her skin ignites, literal flames licking up her arms, her shoulders, her hair sizzling where it meets the water. The sea around her hisses, steam billowing in great clouds as the waves start to bubble, boiling on contact with her. She gasps, clutching at her chest, her eyes wide with panic. “Shit—too much—engine’s overheating—”
Acting without thought, I lunge forward, water splashing around me. My arms wrap around her, pulling her close, her fiery skin pressed against my chest, and I feel the inferno raging through her—probably hot enough to melt copper, wild and uncontrolled. Instinct kicks in, and I channel restoration magic through my hands, gentle waves of it pulsing into her back, white-golden light shimmering faintly where my fingers grip her skin. The water around us boils even harder, a roiling froth of bubbles and steam, sizzling against me—but, I notice that it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it feels… pleasantly warm, soothing, like sinking into a jacuzzi hot tub back home, jets on full blast, the heat massaging my muscles instead of scorching them.
I blink, caught off guard. My Skyrim character was tough, sure—and my health total was entirely unreasonable… but, as a Vampire, I don’t remember him ever shrugging off fire like this. Flame resistance this high? That was definitely new.
I squash the thought down for later consideration. It didn’t matter. Right now, at this moment, Karlach’s pain is all that matters to me. She’s trembling in my arms, her breath ragged, and I tighten my grip, letting the magic flow deeper, willing it to ease whatever's tearing through her.
“Hang on,” I mutter, reaching into my inventory with a flicker of thought. My hand closes around a Potion of Resist Fire—one of the base game ones, nothing crazy, just enough to take the edge off. I pull it out, a small vial of shimmering red liquid glinting in the sunlight, pop the cork, and press it into her shaking hands. “Quick. Drink this!”
She doesn’t hesitate, trusting me absolutely – chugging it down in one go, the potion disappearing in a gulp. The effect is immediate. Her skin’s still burning, flames dancing across her arms, but the tension in her face softens, the grimace of pain fading into something closer to relief. The orange glow in her chest dims just a fraction, the fire licking less wildly, though the water around us keeps bubbling, steam curling up in thick clouds. She exhales, a shaky laugh escaping her lips, and leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder for a few moments.
“Gods,” she rasps, voice rough but steadier now. “You’re… you’re just standing here, hugging me, in boiling water—and you’re not even flinching! How are you not on fire right now?” Her amber eyes lift to mine, wide with wonder, searching my face like I’m some kind of puzzle she can’t crack.
I grin, keeping my arms around her, the warmth of her fire blending with the sea’s churn in a way that’s oddly comforting. “Beats me,” I say, shrugging lightly. “Guess I’m less flammable than I look. But I’ve got a hunch—your engine wasn’t built for this place. The Material Plane’s got different rules than Avernus. Physical laws, magical laws—they don’t line up the same. Down there, it probably ran smoothly, fueled by all that infernal energy. Up here?” I nod at the steam rising around us. “It’s like a dragon in a tiny cage—too big, too wild for the space. It will keeps overheating when you push it too hard, or feel strong emotions.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands resting on my arms, flames still flickering faintly across her skin but no longer roaring. “You think it’s… broken? Because of this plane?” There’s a tremor in her voice—not fear, exactly, but something close, a crack in her usual bravado.
“Not… broken, exactly” I say, meeting her gaze, keeping my tone firm. “Just… out of its element. Don’t worry, Karlach. I’ll get it fixed—or better yet, ripped out—as soon as we have a few free hours. Promise.”
And I mean it. Every word. She’s been through enough—Zariel’s chains, Gortash’s betrayal, a decade of literal hell. I’ve got the power to break her free of this damn engine, and I’ll definitely do it. It’s not even a question.
Her eyes soften, the guilt from earlier melting into something warmer, something trusting. She nods, slow and deliberate, like she’s letting my words sink in, believing them—believing me. “You’re somethin’ else, Soldier,” she murmurs, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “Never met anyone who’d willingly dive into boiling water just to hold me together. Guess I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me shit,” I counter, loosening my grip as the flames on her skin flicker down to embers, the water calming to a simmer. “We’re friends now. And friends don’t let friends get barbecued alive. That’s how it works!”
She chuckles, stepping back fully, the sea lapping at her waist as the steam clears. Her tail flicks through the waves, sending up a playful splash, and she runs a hand through her wet hair, shaking off the last of the tension. “Fair enough. Let’s get outta here before Shadowheart and Lae’zel turn that crypt into a battlefield—or wake up your lich friend.” She pauses. “You were joking about the Lich, right? Right?”
I give her my best enigmatic smile, earning a playful splash in return.