Astarion slowly opened his eyes, his pale hand reaching for the ceiling above him, fingers brushing the air as if testing the boundaries of the reality. His expression was distant, yet determined. He clenched his fist tightly, as if seizing his own fate, and murmured, "Soon… this will become reality."
The weight of his words hung in the air. There was a quiet power behind them, a sense that the spawn had finally found the strength not only to free himself from Cazador’s control but to stand against his past and carve out his future.
Wyll, standing nearby, glanced between Astarion and Zeus. "How was it? Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his eyes. His voice held a gentle note, as if he knew how deeply Astarion's inner battles ran.
Astarion, taking a breath, stood to his feet and closed his eyes in deep concentration. Slowly, as though manifesting from his very soul, a small, simple shield formed on his forearm. It was modest, but it shimmered with an ethereal glow.
With a smile, one filled with pride and something much deeper—hope—Astarion brandished the shield. "The best I’ve ever felt in centuries." he said softly, but the conviction in his voice was unmistakable. The strength he had longed for had finally bloomed within him.
"Good for you, Astarion!" Karlach cheered with her usual boisterous energy, giving him a thumbs up. Her grin was infectious, a genuine joy for her friend’s newfound sense of freedom.
Wyll, though still concerned, smiled faintly. "It’s about time you learned to protect those you care for." His words carried a weight of their own, a reminder of their shared struggles.
Gale stood off to the side, his hand resting on his chin, his eyes flicking toward Zeus. "What about you, Zeus? You must be exhausted after diving into so many minds. I can only imagine Astarion’s wasn’t the most… welcoming one."
Before Zeus could answer, Shadowheart’s voice cut through the air, her tone laced with dry humor. "Let me guess," she said, glancing at the group, her cracked mirror still in hand. "An orgy or something equally decadent?" There was a faint smirk, but her eyes betrayed curiosity.
Astarion’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. His hand, still wrapped around the handle of the shield, tightened into a fist by his side. "No," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "It wasn’t."
Wyll, sensing the shift, stepped closer. "It was that bad?" he asked, concern deepening as he turned toward Zeus for confirmation.
Zeus, gave a slight nod. His mind had been pushed to its limits in Astarion's mindscape, the battle against the chains of Cazador’s manipulation draining him more than he anticipated. His mind reeled, but he still had one last task ahead of him.
Astarion, stepped forward, his voice softer now. "I didn’t expect it to go that deep. You saw things—things I’ve buried for too long. I…," Astarion hesitated, struggling to find the right words, "I owe you more than I can ever repay." There was an honesty there, a vulnerability rarely seen from him.
Karlach, her smile dimming slightly, placed a hand on Zeus's shoulder, her warmth radiating like a fire trying to offer comfort. "You’ve been through a lot today, Zeus. Don’t push yourself too hard."
Gale nodded, his brow furrowed. "There’s only so much the mind can handle, even for someone as strong as you. Take care, my friend. Proceed when you’re ready."
Shadowheart, though still holding her mirror, softened her expression. "Dive into one more mind, if you must. But after that, you rest. No arguments." Her words were firm, but beneath them, there was genuine care—something rare for her.
The party seemed taken a back by Shadowheart's words .
Zeus exhaled. He would need rest soon—his mind felt like a battered fortress, barely standing. But before...His gaze moved to Minthara.
He would find the strength. He always did.
Astarion, watching Zeus with a newfound respect, reached out and rested his hand on Zeus's arm.
"I will be careful. " Zeus responded as the world warped around him.
______
As Alex stepped into Minthara’s mindscape, he was immediately plunged into the dark, vast depths of Menzoberranzan, the most ancient and sprawling city of the drow. The city loomed above him, with jagged structures of obsidian that reflected no light, casting deep, oppressive shadows. Glowing silk webs shimmered faintly, illuminating the eternal twilight that surrounded him, with the watchful eyes of spiders following his every movement.
The streets below were empty, but a sense of dread clung to the air. Minthara's childhood home, the House Baenre estate, sat high on a plateau, imposing and untouchable. As Alex approached the grand mansion, the scene flickered, distorting into fractured memories. He saw Minthara as a baby, her mother’s gaze bearing down on her as a dagger appeared from the shadows and plunged in to her mother's chest , almost killing her. Blood dripped down her chest while Minthara suckled on the tit tasting her mother's blood. Blades glinted in the shadows, and Alex felt the pulse of Minthara’s fear — the terror of survival ingrained in her from a young age.
The memory twisted again, and Alex found himself standing in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, strewn with the bodies of Minthara’s warriors, the aftermath of her march to the Moonrise Towers. The scene replayed in an endless loop of betrayal as he watched a woman with pale blue-grey skin, swirling red plumes undulating across it. Her dull grey eyes, framed by dark eyeliner, gave her an intimidating look. Her straw-colored, braided hair fell to her knees, fastened in a way reminiscent of a flail. Her bright blood-red armor, rigid and rough like chitin, stood out, adorned with an ornate silver tiara with a supplicant-shaped centerpiece and a single crimson gem. This was Orin the Red, who leaped onto the table, slashing the throats of Minthara's men while Ketheric Thorm smirked from the sidelines. Alex sensed the raw pain in her memories — the moment her pride shattered, her men slaughtered, and her fate sealed by the cult of the Absolute.
Then, the scene shifted violently, and Alex found himself deep within the Mind Flayer Colony. The walls were slick with organic, alien textures, pulsating with a sickly glow. Minthara sat on a throne made of flesh, its tendrils wrapped around her as she struggled in vain to free herself. Shortly after, a tadpole was implanted in her head.
Alex witnessed Minthara strapped to a wooden table, her skull pried open by the dark gnome sisters, their cruel laughter echoing through the bloody room. Minthara was helpless, her eyes wide with horror as her essence was violated. The pain, the fear, and the sense of complete loss hit Alex like a wave. He knew this was when her mind had began to fracture.
Suddenly, Alex stood on the edge of a vast void, a deep chasm that represented the memories Minthara had lost. Floating within the darkness were fragmented pieces of her past — flickers of her life as a noble in Menzoberranzan, her rise , her zealotry under the Absolute’s influence. But the memories were distant, scattered, just out of reach, as if something held her back from fully reclaiming them.
Through the swirling chaos, Alex saw Minthara, standing at the precipice of a vast void. Her figure was small against the expanse of endless darkness below, her gaze fixed on the abyss as though the nothingness called to her. Her body, usually rigid with pride and defiance, seemed frail, weighed down by the fractured memories swirling around her. Shards of her past — bright but broken — spun like glass in the storm of her mind, flickering in and out of existence.
Alex walked to her, his steps echoing against the silence, before stopping right next to her. He didn’t speak at first, sensing the delicate fragility of the moment.
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"I'm broken," Minthara murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, lost in the echo of the vast emptiness. Her eyes never left the swirling fragments of her memories as they danced in front of her, pieces of her life that refused to come together. She reached out with trembling fingers, trying to piece them back, but no matter how hard she tried, they never fit right. It was as if her very soul had been shattered, and the jagged edges cut deeper with each failed attempt.
Alex stood beside her, silent, his presence a steady beacon in her fractured world. She turned to him, her red eyes like a pair of rubies were filled with something Alex had only seen once in her before — vulnerability. Her voice, so often commanding and cold, was soft, laced with uncertainty.
"Can you help me?" she asked, her gaze locked on him, searching for hope in a place where she had found none for so long.
Alex nodded without hesitation, and together they sat at the edge of the void. As they did, the fragments of Minthara’s memories floated before them, suspended in the air like shards of a broken mirror. Each piece carried a flicker of her life — her childhood in House Baenre, the betrayals, the power struggles, the moments of bloodshed and loyalty lost.
They began to work together, silently at first, trying to fit the pieces together like a puzzle. Each memory was sharp and jagged, and as they touched them, they could feel the emotions embedded in each fragment — the rage, the pain, the loneliness. It was slow, agonizing work, as every memory seemed to fight against them, refusing to be part of something whole.
“What do you think of me?” Minthara asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. She didn’t lift her eyes from the shards of her memories, her hands still moving but less sure than before.
Alex paused, his fingers grazing a particularly painful shard of her past — a sense of betrayal etched deeply into the piece. He glanced at Minthara. He knew this question was more than curiosity; it was her way of seeking validation, of trying to understand herself through his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Alex responded after a long pause, his voice calm and measured. His words caused Minthara to stop, her hands stilling as she turned her gaze toward him, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What do you think about yourself?”
Minthara’s face hardened for a moment, as though she didn’t want to answer. But the weight of her truth pressed against her chest, and the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“A madwoman… a butcher... a tool,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, each word heavier than the last. “I am worthless.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, as if the void itself had absorbed her self-loathing. Her gaze dropped back to the fragments in her hands, her fingers shaking slightly as though they no longer had the strength to hold them.
He could feel the depth of her despair, the cruelty and manipulation that had warped her sense of self. But he didn’t hesitate.
“I don’t think you’re worthless,” he said softly but firmly. His words were a gentle balm against the storm of her thoughts. He picked up one of the fragmented memories — a moment from her past where she had saved one of her warriors from a deadly ambush, a flicker of compassion hidden beneath her hardened exterior. Slowly, he placed the memory in the void, and as it settled, the darkness receded ever so slightly, creating a small patch of light in the abyss.
Minthara watched in silence as the void shrank, her breath catching in her throat. She had never seen her memories fit together like this before, never believed that there was more to her than the bloodshed and control. Her hands twitched, as if unsure whether to continue, but Alex’s steady presence beside her gave her the courage to try again.
Together, they continued piecing her fragmented mind, each memory adding to the light in the void. It was painful, slow work, and every piece they touched seemed to burn with the weight of her past, but they persisted. With each memory that found its place, the darkness grew smaller, and something inside Minthara began to shift.
After what felt like an eternity of working together, the pieces of Minthara’s shattered mind were finally coming together. Fragments of her memories, once jagged and chaotic, now fit almost perfectly into place, forming a nearly complete picture of who she had been. Almost all of her memories had been restored, the void of darkness that had once threatened to consume her was now a mere shadow.
She stared at the completed pieces for a long moment before turning to Alex, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you,” she said, followed by a pause that hung heavy between them. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she bit her lower lip, hesitating before speaking again. “Can I trust you?” Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the vulnerability she had tried so hard to keep hidden.
Alex nodded, his response firm and without hesitation. He had been with her through the darkest parts of her mind, and he understood how much this question meant to her.
Minthara’s fingers twitched slightly as she looked back at him, a flicker of anxiety crossing her face. “Then please... can I touch your thoughts, now that my mind is whole?” Her voice was soft but laced with a deep yearning. “May I?”
Alex paused, considering her request. The hesitation, though brief, caused Minthara’s anxiety to grow, her body stiffening slightly as she waited for his answer. She had bared everything to him, laid herself open and exposed, but now she asked for something in return — a glimpse into his mind, into how he saw her.
“You know everything about me,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, though the vulnerability remained. “I have laid bare before you, like an open book. Until my time in the Cult of the Absolute, I had spent little time on the surface, except to raid and pillage. I never expected to find anyone outside the Underdark who could do what you did for me. I didn’t expect you.”
Her words carried the weight of her uncertainty, her life before the Absolute had been filled with certainties — certainties that had been stripped away. “Before the Absolute, I lived a life of certainties. I knew I was destined for greatness because I was born into it. I knew that my inherited privilege came with a cost — that the bonds of fellowship and family could be broken by envy and ambition. I could not enjoy the taste of food for fear of poison, and I could not enjoy the company of lovers and friends because I feared they hid knives behind their smiles.”
Her voice faltered slightly, the memories of her former life flickering in her eyes like dying embers. “In spite of the danger, I was happy. I knew myself, and I understood the world around me. But now, nothing is certain. Without Lolth, without the Absolute… without my home… I don’t know who I am.”
Her gaze returned to Alex, her violet eyes pleading. “But you do, I think. Show me myself through your eyes — let me see what I am to you. Please, I just want to know.”
Her words echoed in the air between them, raw and filled with a deep longing. Alex could feel the weight of her plea, the depth of her need to understand herself in a world that had left her shattered. Slowly, he allowed his mind to open, reaching out to her, letting their thoughts entwine.
For a moment, there was silence, and then Minthara was there, inside his mind, sharing in his thoughts. She could feel the strength of his will, the unwavering conviction that had guided him through so many trials. But there was more — she could feel the doubts that lingered in the shadows of her own mind. The uncertainty, the lingering fear of who she had become and whether she could ever truly be whole again.
Those doubts clustered around her sense of self, thick and suffocating, but she pushed past them, searching for the truth she so desperately sought. And there it was, the image of Minthara as Alex saw her.
A friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
The realization hit Minthara like a physical blow, and Alex could feel the mindscape cooling, the warmth of connection giving way to a wave of disappointment. Minthara had expected something more — her actions, her words, they had all hinted at her desire for something deeper, something beyond friendship. She had hoped to find love in his mind, a reflection of the feelings she had started to develop for him.
But there was no space for love in Alex’s heart, not now.
A sadness settled over Minthara’s face, her expression betraying the pain of rejection she felt. Her lips parted, but no words came at first, as though she was struggling to find the right thing to say.
Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but resolute. “We need to trust one another if we are to survive,” she said, her words carefully measured. “But I want more from you than that. I want all of you.” Her gaze bore into his, filled with a raw determination that masked the hurt beneath. She wasn’t one to give up so easily, not after everything they had been through.
But in that moment, the connection they had shared was fraying by the unspoken tension between them.
Minthara’s heart ached, not only for the love she wished to find, but for the certainty that had once defined her life. And now, standing on the precipice of a new reality, she realized that trust, while essential, would never be enough. She wanted more — but it wasn’t something Alex could give.
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid. And though they stood side by side, the distance between them had never felt so vast.
" What you’re asking of me... it’s not something I can give right now. I’m still fighting my own battles, and I can’t be what you want.” Alex responded.
The sadness in her eyes deepened, but Minthara held her head high. She had lived too long in a world where emotions were liabilities, where weakness could get you killed. She would not let this crush her, even though it stung deeply.
“I understand,” she replied, her voice now cool, though the hurt lingered in her gaze. “I’ve survived worse than this. I’ll survive this too.”
The distance between them felt colder now, more defined, as if they were on opposite sides of an invisible line neither of them could cross. The love Minthara sought would remain beyond their reach. For now, at least.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence felt heavy, weighed down by the unspoken feelings, the shared pain. But there was no more to be said. Minthara, despite the rawness of her emotions, would not beg. She would not plead further for what could not be.
She turned away from Alex, staring into the fading void of her mindscape. “I’ll find my way,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I always do.”