Astarion let out a heavy sigh as he plopped into one of the creaky old chairs, his usual charm fading slightly as exhaustion crept into his voice. “I’m starting to have enough of this place,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as if trying to stave off the weariness that had been building for days.
“You’re not the only one,” Karlach agreed, her usual fiery demeanor softened by fatigue as she took a seat beside him.
“How many days have we spent here, by the way?” Gale mused aloud, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for a non-existent sun. “Without the sun, it’s rather hard to tell.” His comment drew a few chuckles, a brief moment of levity in the gloom, though the laughter carried a note of resignation.
Zeus, had wandered over to one of the ramparts, his gaze scanning the dust-covered shelves filled with forgotten books. Minthara, followed close behind, her eyes darting around, never letting her guard down. They were a strange pair, yet there was a quiet understanding between them.
Astarion, couldn’t resist stirring the pot. “Alex?” he called out, his voice laced with mischief.
“Hm?” Alex responded, barely lifting his head from where he leaned against the cold stone wall.
“Who do you like?” Astarion asked, a sly smile playing on his lips, his tone teasing yet curious.
Alex raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Why do you ask?” he replied with calm indifference.
Astarion grinned, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Everyone here has someone they like, except Shadowheart, of course.” He ducked slightly as a small pebble flew past his head, his grin only widening. “Wyll and Karlach,” he continued, nodding towards the pair.
“Hey!” they both protested in unison, though the blush on their cheeks betrayed them.
“Minthara and Zeus,” Astarion added, his tone almost sing-song.
“Spawn, you better shut your mouth before I cut out your tongue,” Minthara hissed from the rampart, her eyes narrowing dangerously. The tension in the air was thick, yet Astarion seemed unfazed, a true master of playing with fire.
“So, who do you like?” Astarion pressed, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Alfira’s a good pick, as it seems her relationship with Lakrissa is hanging by a thin thread, or perhaps Ellyka?”
A shadow of sadness crossed Alex’s face, his playful demeanor fading as he let out a long, heavy sigh. “I think I’m not ready for a relationship,” he began, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Before all this started, I had someone I loved with all my heart. She was my sun… my everything.” He paused, running a hand through his brunette hair, letting his hood fall back. “Her love was the price I had to pay to reach my ambitions.”
His words hung in the air, a heavy silence following as the weight of his confession settled over the group.
“Like me,” Gale murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a flicker of understanding passing between him and Alex.
Alex nodded, his eyes distant.
"Have your memories came back ? Wyll asked.
"Just vague memories , except about her . " Alex responded.
“And that’s why you should find yourself a sweetheart,” Astarion continued. “Nothing heals a broken heart better than a romantic night… and sex.”
“Astarion, shut up,” Karlach snapped from the side, clearly exasperated by his relentless teasing.
As the group settled into a quieter mood, Zeus looked for a moment at Minthara before returning his attention back to the dusty shelves, his fingers tracing the spines of ancient books. One in particular caught his eye, a worn tome titled Selûne's Devotee. He flipped through its pages, his gaze focused as he read the diary of John Meadowlin, a man who had once been cursed with lycanthropy, becoming a werebear under the light of the full moon. The story detailed how a priestess of Selûne had cured him, saving him from his curse. The priestess, Erlona, became his closest companion, though they never fell in love. Their friendship, however, was a bond forged in the crucible of hardship, a testament to the power of faith and loyalty.
As Zeus read on, Minthara silently perused another book, Harvest of Memory. The text described the shadar-kai, elves twisted by the Shadowfell, their cruel nature a reflection of their dark home. They were devoted to their Raven Queen, performing the thankless duty of ferrying the memories of the dead to their queen, who kept them in a kind of macabre menagerie.
Further down the shelf, Zeus found a logbook, its cover marked with the number 1371 and an elegant stag stamped against a dark green background. As he read through the entries, the weight of the past seemed to press down on him.
6 Uktar: Sent two druids, some of the newer recruits, up north. The village there has had two years of failed crops and is unlikely to survive the next winter.
9 Uktar: A group from Baldur's Gate arrived. They've set up camp on the edge of the forest. Two bears and a fox came by. Their territory has been burned out. Half the fox's cubs died. Paying this new group a visit tomorrow.
10 Uktar: Visit did not go well. After telling me where to shove it, they said they'd cut down half the forest and burn out any wildlife that dared to stick around. Claimed they were going to 'farm the land and make a new city of their own.' Time to get creative.
12 Uktar: Mudslide did the trick. Buried half their farming equipment and made the rest useless. They won't be back any time soon. Got reports of a Red Wizard in the village south of here. Sending three rangers to investigate. If they catch even a whiff of a red cloak, I'm contacting the House of Silvanus.
Zeus pulled a dusty tome from the shelf, the title catching his eye: Secret Societies of the Sword Coast: Exposed. As he flipped through the pages, he skimmed over the sections,
The Harpers—well-known, sure, but this book claimed their altruistic front hid a darker ambition. "Knowledge is power," the author wrote with chilling certainty, suggesting that the Harpers hoarded both, wielding their secrets with the same precision as any assassin’s blade.
The Shadow Druids were even more unsettling. The text painted them as twisted caretakers of nature, weighing the life of a man against a sapling oak—and finding the oak more deserving. Their fanatical devotion to the natural world led them to commit unspeakable acts, all in the name of “balance.”
Zeus paused when he reached the section on The Order of Klurd, a name he had never heard before. He read about this band of murderers and tyrants, a secret society so elusive that even seasoned scholars knew little of their true nature. The author’s warning was stark: “The less known, the more dangerous.”
Finally, he reached the Dark Justiciars. The writer's revulsion seeped through the ink, describing the group in sparse but damning detail. They worshiped Shar, the goddess of darkness and loss, and their deeds were as black as the night they prayed to.
Zeus shook his head, snapping a book shut. "Why would someone write a 700-page book about electric eels?" he wondered aloud, placing an encyclopedia back on the shelf next to the others books.
As he returned to the group, two scrolls in hand—Walk on Water and Detect Thoughts—Zeus sat down at the table. The scrolls weren’t particularly useful to him, but perhaps they would come in handy later.
The others were deep in conversation. Everyone, that is, except for Astarion. He was crouched behind a broken altar up ahead, his hands busy with something that made a faint metallic scrape. Zeus could see the tension in his posture as he worked.
Suddenly, Astarion let out a scream, his voice filled with pain as golden flames erupted around him. He staggered back, the fire licking at his clothes, threatening to consume him. Zeus acted on fast, his sussur tree ability flaring to life as he siphoned the magic away, extinguishing the flames in an instant.
Astarion straightened, brushing the ash from his clothes with a shaky hand. He gave Zeus a small, grateful bow before returning to the chest he had just unlocked. From it, he retrieved a helmet—a beautifully crafted piece of armor. As he placed it on the table, the firelight danced across its golden surface, highlighting the intricate engravings and wing-like details on the sides. The eye slits were dark and narrow, giving the helmet an air of mystery, while the central motif, a rising flame, seemed almost alive.
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“Are you not going to wear it?” Shadowheart asked, her voice soft but curious.
“And cover this?” Astarion quipped, gesturing to his face with a smirk. “No, darling, no.”
Karlach rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “He’s afraid it’s cursed,” she said, her tone dripping with exasperation.
“That too,” Astarion admitted, his smirk fading slightly.
“Let me check,” Zeus offered. He traced his fingers over the helmet, his touch light as he searched for any lingering magical traces. He nodded. “It’s enchanted. It will let you hit your spells more precisely after using your weapon.”
With a casual toss, Zeus handed the helmet to Wyll. “You can have it.”
“Hey,” Astarion protested, his voice dipping into a whine. “What about me? I was the one who risked… his skin… to get… it.” His words trailed off, his eyes fluttering shut . In moments, he was fast asleep, his breath evening out as he slumped back in his chair.
He quickly caught Minthara as she felt asleep and placed her on the stone floor.
Zeus glanced around the table. One by one, his companions fell asleep .
A deep silence settled over the room, the only sound beeing the occasional rustle of pages as a stray breeze stirred the forgotten books on the shelves. He looked down at Astarion, whose face was peaceful for once, devoid of the usual smirk or sarcasm.
“Time to get to work.” He murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
Zeus moved with the quiet precision of a shadow, gently laying each of his companions on the ground. As he did, the earth beneath them shifted. Dark, obsidian-like spikes rose from the ground, forming a protective dome over their heads. The spikes shimmered faintly, catching the flickering light from the small orbs of silver and gold that materialized around Zeus, illuminating the interior of the dome with a soft, ethereal glow.
"Let’s start with Wyll," Zeus thought.
Since acquiring his psionic capabilities, Zeus had become acutely aware of a presence, a force that subtly manipulated the emotions of his companions. It was an insidious influence, weaving its way through their minds, bolstering their courage one moment, only to seed doubt and fear the next. The tadpoles embedded in their brains acted like receivers, amplifying the force's power over them. Wyll, ever since taking up the mantle of leadership, had felt the full weight of this influence. It gnawed at him, driving him to doubt himself, pushing him ever closer to embracing the powers of the tadpole.
Alex's mind was more than strong enough to resist the psionic tendrils that sought purchase within it. He could feel them probing, searching for a way in, but they found no hold. He was a fortress, unyielding and impenetrable.
A tendril sprouted from Zeus’s shoulder, moving with a slow, deliberate grace as it hovered over Wyll’s head. It paused for a moment, almost as if considering, before slipping down to his left eye—his good eye. The tendril slithered behind the eye and into Wyll’s brain, moving with the precision of a predator stalking its prey. It wound its way through the intricate structures of Wyll’s brain, careful not to disturb anything.
“Found you,” Zeus murmured as the tendril coiled around the tadpole, ready to consume it.
But suddenly, the world shifted.
Zeus found himself no longer within the dark dome, but sitting in a garden, perched on a piece of gray rock. The island he sat upon floated gently in a sea of stars and nebulas, the vastness of the cosmos stretching out in all directions. He looked down at his hands, surprised to see they were in his human form, wearing his old clothes .
Before him, a figure manifested—a woman, ethereal and striking. Her silvery white hair flowed behind her, combed back in a way that accentuated her sharp, yet gentle features. Her beauty was undeniable, almost otherworldly, but it was her eyes—one piercing blue, the other a burning red—that held his gaze. She wore golden armor that glittered under the cosmic light, each piece intricately crafted and exuding an aura of power.
"So, you are the Dream Guardian," Zeus deduced, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.
“I am their salvation,” the woman replied, her tone solemn yet firm. “They will not become mind flayers. Not while I’m around. I’ll protect them. What you’re trying to do would lead them to their deaths.”
Zeus’s eyes narrowed, intrigued. “How so?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“There is great potential in them, and it comes from the parasite,” she explained, her voice grave. “Their instincts are to resist the power it offers, but they must accept it, nurture it. For the sake of everyone, they must learn to wield it.”
She turned her back to him, her golden armor gleaming as she waved her hand toward the floating rocks before her. The rocks shifted, revealing a sight that took Alex's breath away—a colossal black skull, floating in the endless cosmic void, as large as a mountain, its sharpened teeth bared in a perpetual snarl. Atop its head rested a golden crown, glinting ominously in the dim light. Within the skull's hollow interior, a multi-colored sphere floated, its surface alive with ever-shifting geometric patterns that seemed to obscure something deep inside.
Small explosions of light erupted around the skull, each one a burst of color against the . Alex squinted, realizing that the explosions were caused by figures—beings of pure flame or energy, their bodies glowing with a myriad of colors as they battled each other around the skull.
“A fight for the fate of Faerûn,” the Dream Guardian continued, her voice heavy with sorrow. “A fight we are losing… for now.” She turned back to face Zeus, her gaze intense. “You can change that, but only if you help them embrace their potential.”
Alex’s eyes were drawn to one of the flying figures—a being of brilliant blue flames, locked in combat with another, whose body blazed with fiery red energy. The red figure hurled a ball of energy at the blue one, and as it struck, the blue figure exploded into a shower of sparks, extinguished in an instant.
“I can see it in your eyes,” the Dream Guardian said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “You think they don’t need it. You want to get rid of it.”
“The tadpoles have been modified with magic,” Alex said, his tone measured.
“Yes, you are correct. Their parasites are unusual—wrapped in magic that prevents their removal,” she admitted.
Zeus’s mind raced. If all the parasites were like this, he wouldn't have been able to remove the one in Minthara's head. The situation was far more complicated than he had anticipated. Either she was lying, or she didn’t fully understand the capabilities of his power. For now, he decided to play along, masking his thoughts behind a calm exterior.
“Until the source of the tadpole’s magic is destroyed, any attempt to remove it will kill the host. The parasites are merely a symptom of a greater sickness in Faerûn,” the Guardian continued, her voice a whisper of desperation.
“Then how do I destroy the source of the tadpole’s magic?” Alex asked, his tone cool and calculating.
“I’m not sure… yet,” she replied, her voice faltering slightly. “To find the answers, we must first find the source. These parasites are more than just illithid spawn—they are vessels for control. The infected hear the voice of the Absolute and believe it to be a god. That is how the cult of the Absolute is spreading. The highest of their ranks—the True Souls—carry a tadpole just like yours. It’s how they receive their orders. It’s what makes them obey. When the order to transform is given, it will not be a matter of days—they will become mind flayers in an instant , were it not for my protection.”
Alex seemed to consider her words, his mind working through the implications.
“So who are you? I suppose you have a past?” he asked, his voice betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.
“It’s complicated,” she began, her voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. “But I’m an adventurer, just like your companions. Just like them, I was infected with a mind flayer parasite. Just like them, I seek to be free of it. I’ve been trying to escape from this evil for a long time. Once, I almost succeeded. Now, through them, I’ve been given a new chance. They can go where I cannot, and I can protect them from that evil. If we work together, we may turn this around.”
She looked into his eyes, and for a moment, Alex saw a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. Then, with a fluid motion, she unsheathed her sword and knelt before him, holding the blade outstretched over her head in a gesture of fealty.
“I’m on your side,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “I have been since the very beginning. Vlaakith told you I am an agent of the illithid Grand Design, but I’m not. I stole the artifact from someone—well, I stole it from Vlaakith. Since then, she has become desperate. Vlaakith wants me dead because I know her secret. It is a secret so great that if her people ever found out, it would be the end of her rule, the end of her. That same secret is how I’ve been protecting them from the Absolute.”
Alex reached out and took the sword from her hands, his grip firm as he examined it. It was a simple blade, unadorned and plain—a symbol, perhaps, of the humility she claimed to possess. But as he held it, he felt the weight of deception, the lie that lay hidden beneath her words.
“A simple sword,” he mused, his voice tinged with disdain. “Fake.”
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the blade to the ground, watching as it dissolved into nothingness, fading away like a mirage.
The Dream Guardian raised her gaze to meet his, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I knew you would make the right decision.”
But Zeus was already moving. In an instant, a purple blade of concentrated psionic energy manifested in his hand. The air around him crackled with power as he swung the blade in a swift arc, cleaving the Dream Guardian in two. There was no blood, no cry of pain—only the soft sound of her body dissolving into a cloud of purple, glowing particles, drifting away like dust on the wind.
"So you are not to be trusted . " The guardian voice sounded all around him . " We could have been so much more . But you choose this . You are not to be trusted ."
Alex chuckled, a sinister smile spreading across his face .
“Caught you,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with malice.
In the real world his mind lashed out at the tendril of psionic energy that had attempted to infiltrate his thoughts. This was possible cause a split second before he was pulled into the fabricated astral plane, he had split his consciousness into two—one half to observe and defend his mind, the other to confront whatever was coming. The Dream Guardian believed she had the upper hand, that she could sift through his thoughts and impose her will upon him. She was gravely mistaken.
As she tried to dig through his memories, planting compulsions to trust her, Alex observed her every move with cold detachment. She had already done the same to his companions, invading their dreams, weaving a web of deceit with promises of salvation and protection. She had played the role of a benevolent guardian, appearing kind and wise, but Alex saw through her charade. She had no idea what kind of mind she was dealing with.
With a sudden, brutal force, Alex pulled on the psionic tether that connected them. His mind was like a steel trap, closing in on her with the intent to pierce through her defenses and invade her thoughts. He could sense the shock and desperation in her as she scrambled to sever the connection, her mental fortress buckling under his relentless assault. But she was strong—strong enough to cut the link just before he could delve deep enough to uncover her secrets.
The connection snapped, and Alex found himself back in the material world, the dome of dark spikes looming over him and his sleeping companions.
His mind buzzed with the revelation. This so-called guardian was a master manipulator, but now he had glimpsed her true nature. She was no savior; she was just another player in a game far more dangerous than she realized. And Alex was ready to show everyone involved just how dangerous he could be.