The fog curled around Alex’s legs as he approached the ruined castle, its shadowed silhouette rising against the storm-darkened sky. Rain drizzled down in cold sheets, streaking his coat as he pushed forward, his grip tightening on the lock of Astarion's hair in his hand—a beacon guiding him to his friends.
As he reached the castle’s crumbling archway, faint lights flickered from within, casting fractured shadows across the stone walls. His nose caught familiar scents: the faint musk of old leather, iron, and fire. His heart beat faster. They were here.
He sensed a presence nearing, swift and silent. Turning slightly, he was met by Shadowheart’s figure materializing from the fog, her hand reaching for her spear before recognition softened her stance.
“Hey, Shadowheart,” he said, breaking into a small smile.
She paused, studying him with that assessing gaze of hers, lips twitching with a hint of a smile. “Hello, Alex. How was your mission?”
He shrugged, smirking. “Just another day of dealing with monsters and dark forces. I’ll tell you more… once you let me through, that is.”
A flicker of a laugh escaped her as she nodded. “Fine, but don’t hold back any details,” she replied, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “The others are waiting for you.”
She led him inside, where the warmth of the fire met him like a balm, dispelling the damp chill clinging to him from the journey. His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sight of his companions, each one steeped in their own habits but all pausing, heads lifting as he entered.
Lae’zel was the first to react, lowering her sword, her intense gaze sharpening on him. "Tardiness in battle is tolerated once. Perhaps twice if the foe was unworthy," she huffed, but her stern words belied a hint of relief that softened her fierce expression.
Alex chuckled. "I’ll make sure the next abomination meets its end faster."
Nearby, Gale and Astarion were seated with a book open between them, but as Alex entered, Astarion’s crimson eyes gleamed, an amused grin quirking his lips. “Ah, there you are, finally! I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to go in search of your corpse in some dreary cave,” he drawled, his tone playful yet hiding a slight edge of concern.
Gale looked up with a warm smile. “And yet he walks through the door himself, proving your grim prophecies wrong once again,” he teased Astarion, before turning his gaze to Alex. “I trust you’ve brought back some new stories for our fire-side gathering?”
Alex smiled, waving a hand as he focused his energy on the fireplace, and the flames surged, casting golden light across their faces. “Stories aplenty,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.
Karlach stood up with her usual exuberance. She pulled him into a side hug, her grin infectious. “That’s my soldier! Here I was, thinking you’d forgotten all about us.”
“Forgotten? Not a chance,” he said, squeezing her back.
Wyll gave him a nod, his arm draped over Karlach’s shoulders. “Good to have you back.”
Alex looked at them all, feeling a familiar warmth settle in his chest as they each found comfort in his presence. He nodded, meeting each gaze. Finally, he settled his attention on Astarion, who was eyeing him with mock impatience.
“Well, darling?” Astarion drawled, tilting his head. “Are you going to share these thrilling exploits or leave us all in suspense?”
Alex laughed softly, sinking down to sit by the fire and relaxed in the comfort of his friends' company. “Alright, alright,” he began, eyes glinting with the promise of a story, “It all started when I found an abandoned ruin called Sunrise Spire…”
He regaled them with the details of his journey, sparing no descriptions of the twisted creatures he’d faced and the battles that had left his spirit unbroken. His companions hung on his every word, their expressions shifting from concern to amusement, to awe, and even to jealousy, especially when he mentioned who his partner for the mission had been.
Gale leaned forward, his gaze intense. "An alhoon," he murmured, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "Combining the powers of a mind flayer and a lich. Truly, one of the worst possible things you can encounter. If it escaped… well, let’s just say it has a way of coming back to bite you." His words hung in the air, and a few exasperated glances turned his way.
"Ah, apologies," Gale cleared his throat, realizing the weight he'd added to their otherwise calm moment. "Didn’t mean to ruin the peace, just... thinking out loud," he offered with a sheepish grin.
Karlach, leaning back with a broad grin and an easy confidence, slapped her thigh and let out a boisterous laugh. "Forget the alhoon! What I wouldn’t give to have seen that final battle." She beamed at Alex. "You, flying over the battlefield, wielding some fucking massive magic scythe—now that’s a sight I’d have loved to see up close! I’d have fought right alongside you, no hesitation."
"Well, I'm more than glad he didn’t drag us along on that adventure," Astarion quipped from across the fire. "I’ve had quite enough of trauma for one lifetime." His eyes darkened briefly as memories of the nightmares they faced in the Feywild surfaced, only for him to shake them off with an elegant flick of his hand.
Wyll, gave Alex a look of genuine admiration. "I know someone back in Baldur's Gate who’d be enchanted to hear your story, my friend. He’d probably turn it into an epic ballad, something grand, full of heroics and tragic love."
"He really does love hero stories," Karlach whispered to Alex, her voice carrying just enough for Wyll to hear. She grinned as Wyll, sitting beside her, flushed slightly, his attempt to remain composed only making the color on his cheeks deepen.
"Tragic love..." Shadowheart murmured under her breath as she looked at Alex. "That's why you look so much happier, and the spring in your step that wasn't there before. Now I know who was responsible for it. A pity that I'm not responsible for it."
Alex looked at Shadowheart, his heart aching for what he did and it made him feel conflicted. He knew that his actions had consequences, and seeing the pain in her eyes only made it worse. But he did what felt right at the moment. Amanita needed someone who could show her what love is, and he was the only one who could do it.
He recalled that night at Anga Vled, dancing under the full moon with Shadowheart. He hadn't realized at the moment, but as a champion of Eilistraee, the full moon had an effect on him, something similar to being drunk. The memory was bittersweet, filled with laughter and fleeting moments of connection, but also a reminder of the complicated emotions that had followed.
He knew he needed to straighten things out with Shadowheart. He appreciated her, but not as a lover. And that night, he clearly wasn't thinking straight. Actions speak louder than words, and he needed to show her that he cared, just in a different way.
Finally, as the conversation quieted, the warmth of camaraderie settled over them. They each leaned back, their faces aglow in the firelight, content in the peace they’d fought so hard to protect. Shadowheart glanced toward Alex, her expression betraying a rare softness. "You’re not planning to leave again, are you?"
"No." Alex’s voice was calm, carrying a warmth that reassured them all.
Astarion scoffed with a smirk, though his tone was unusually gentle. "Good, because I've still got plenty of bloodsucking exploits left in me. Besides, the company isn’t all bad." He shot a glance at Gale. "Plus, I wouldn’t mind a real bed for once. After all the camping, I feel worse than a homeless wanderer."
Lae'zel’s gravelly voice cut in with a grin. "At least a homeless wanderer doesn’t hunt rats for their supper," she teased, raising a mocking eyebrow.
Astarion shot Lae'zel a glare, eyes narrowing with mock offense. "Oh, please, toadyanki. At least I don’t sleep with one eye open, waiting for a band of dragon-riding warriors to drag me back into whatever cosmic mess your people call home."
Lae'zel smirked, unfazed. "And I don’t have to flinch at every sunrise, spawn. I’d hate to have my plans limited by something as ordinary as daylight." She gave him a look of exaggerated pity, her grin widening.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Astarion sniffed, lifting his chin. "Well, I’d rather be cursed by the sun than forced to spend my life in a plane of reality where ‘grumpy’ seems to be the only mood. But hey, maybe one day I’ll get to hear about it from someone who survived it with their sense of humor intact."
The group erupted into laughter, Karlach nearly doubling over, and even Gale hiding a smile behind his hand. The easy banter swept away the last traces of tension, their shared laughter warming the night as much as the fire did.
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Alex waved his hands over his head and a barrier materialized, a swirling blend of psionic and arcane energy that shimmered like a dark mirage around them. The faint hum of magic sealed them in, cocooning the group in silence as all eyes turned to Alex. For a moment, he held their gazes, reading the mixture of curiosity and apprehension in their faces.
“It’s time you all know the truth,” Alex began, his voice low, steady, and yet carrying the weight of something long-buried. He paused, watching their reactions: the flicker of surprise in Gale’s eyes, a small frown on Wyll's face, the subtle shift in Shadowheart’s posture. Karlach's expression tightened; she already knew what was about to happen.
Lae’zel crossed her arms, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Speak plainly, Alex. No more riddles.”
Alex drew a deep breath, gathering himself as he faced his companions, feeling the heavy weight of his truth about to be set free. “What you know as ‘me,’ as Alex Mercer, is just a shell. A name and face I wear. But the truth is…” He paused, steadying his voice as it cracked under the weight of the admission. “The truth is, I am what the world I came from called the Blacklight Virus. The Mercer Virus. My designation is DX-1118 C.”
"Another world?" Astarion asked from the side, his curiosity piqued.
"Maybe he's from a far realm we haven't heard of," Gale said quietly to the pale elf, his mind racing with possibilities.
Alex didn't respond to their murmurs, instead continuing his story, his eyes scanning their bewildered faces.
“Years ago, scientists created me in a lab. They called me a ‘chimeric mutation,’ an ‘evolutionary prototype,’ built to adapt and combine genetic material from any life form I touched.” His words came slowly, each one an admission of what he truly was. “They experimented on creatures, sentient or not, including humans. None was spared—old, young, even babies—endless trials to ‘perfect’ me, hoping I’d become a weapon.”
The words lingered, sinking into the silence like poison. Gale's eyes widened, confusion twisting into horror. “A… a virus?” he whispered, as though speaking the word louder might make it more real. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
Alex took a breath, realizing how little they knew of what he truly was. “A virus...” he began, struggling to simplify his own nature, “a virus is a twisted form of life—tiny, hidden, but dangerous. It finds a living creature, something already alive, and changes it from the inside out until nothing is left of the original. I am one of those viruses, an experiment to make life… mutable. Rewritable."
Gale nodded slowly, his mind spinning at a rapid pace as he tried to comprehend Alex's words.
The group stood in stunned silence, each of them processing the revelation in their own way. Shadowheart's posture had shifted from tension to something softer, more understanding. Wyll's frown deepened as he struggled with the concept, while Karlach's expression remained tight, a mix of sorrow and acceptance in her eyes.
Wyll, looked at Alex with a new kind of respect. “You are a weapon, then. One forged in ways we cannot understand. But a weapon nonetheless.”
Alex nodded, a grim smile touching his lips. “Yes. But also more than that. I choose how to use what I am. And right now, I choose to stand with all of you.”
He let the words settle for a moment, looking at each of them in turn. "I was born in a lab. A vial of the Blacklight Virus, the most dangerous biological weapon ever created. And when it broke free, it didn’t just infect a host—it became that host. Dr. Alexander Jack Mercer. My… creator." He nearly spat the word. “I took his face, his body, his identity… and in that moment, I was him, or I thought I was.”
They were silent, eyes wide, minds working to piece together what he was saying. He continued.
“Dr. Mercer, the real Alex, was the head of Gentek’s Blacklight Project. He led the creation of this virus that could mimic, adapt, consume. It was his work, his pride. But Gentek was under investigation, and they were scared. They sent Blackwatch soldiers to clean up the mess—including erasing everyone connected to the project. When they came for him, he had nowhere left to run, and in a last, desperate act, he smashed the vial… hoping to take his secrets to the grave and as a last act of spite for the world he hated so much.” His jaw clenched. “But the virus didn’t die with him. It became him. I became him.”
He glanced down, as if gathering the strength to continue. “The thing is… I didn’t know any of this. When I woke up in the morgue, I had no memory. I thought I was Alex Mercer, the same scientist, the same person. But when I saw the soldiers, I knew—somehow—that they were no friends of mine. I escaped, and from that point on, I was hunted. I fought, consumed, and slowly… remembered. But the memories weren’t all mine. They were fragments, pieces of people I’d absorbed along the way.”
He paused, his gaze hardening. “As I consumed others, I realized what I truly was: a virus in human form. I took on people’s faces, their skills, their lives. I could hear their voices in my head—thousands of lives, countless memories. Most of them… screaming, pleading. And when I saw those memories, I saw what Alex Mercer had done. He was brilliant, ruthless, single-minded. But he unleashed this plague on the city causing millions of deaths . He did it out of spite, out of desperation, and now…” His voice trailed off, heavy with a regret that went deeper than words.
“This city suffered because of him—because of me. I’ve fought to find the truth, and I’ve uncovered things about this virus, this whole nightmare, that haunt me. I met people who held pieces of my past, who tried to help me, who died because of it. My sister, Dana… she saw what I was. And still, she helped me find the truth. But every time I get closer, every answer only deepens the darkness of what I am.”
He clenched his fists, the frustration raw in his voice. “I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that I was created as a weapon, or the fact that I’ve killed so many to survive. When I close my eyes, I see their faces. Their pain. Their final moments as I consumed them. It’s a part of me. They’re a part of me.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “What have I become? Something less than human. But maybe… maybe something more. The truth? I don’t know if there’s any humanity left in me. But I’ll keep fighting, for the lives I’ve taken. Because that’s all I have left.”
He looked up, the darkness in his gaze flickering as though daring them to understand. For a moment, no one spoke . Even if they didn't understood , he was fine with it . He felt a strange peace in finally sharing his truth.
Karlach, her hands shaking, clenched her fists as she spoke. “You’re telling us that… everything we know about you—all your memories, your thoughts—they’re part of this virus? How can we even know who you are, then?”
“Because I chose to stay this way,” Alex replied, his voice raw. “I could’ve become anyone or anything. But somehow, being Alex Mercer… it gave me a purpose. Maybe a borrowed one, but it’s all I had. I didn’t know who I was before, or if there was even a ‘me’ to begin with.”
Lae’zel sneered, her eyes filled with revulsion. “So you’re no different than a parasite, latching onto life to live. And we’ve trusted you all this time?”
Shadowheart’s gaze softened, her mind wrestling with her own past and what Alex had revealed. “We all have things we keep hidden. But… Alex, if you’ve lived with us, fought with us, showed us the light when we couldn't see it , then maybe you’re more than just… a virus.”
Astarion raised an eyebrow, his voice a dry rasp. “So that’s it then, isn’t it? You’re a monster born of science, a creature cobbled together from the lives you’ve taken. And yet… you’ve fought beside us, risked yourself, whatever ‘self’ that is.”
The weight of their words settled over Alex like a cloak, both harsh and redemptive. “Yes,” he said, meeting each of their gazes. “I am all of those things. I am the Mercer Virus. I am DX-1118 C. But I am also Alex Mercer, by choice… and I’m here because this is the only life I know that has meaning.”
The silence that followed was one of reckoning, a confrontation of both horror and empathy, as each of them grappled with the truth of who, or what, their ally had become.
Gale stood up and walked to Alex, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You are still our friend, Alex," he said, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.
One by one, the others gathered around, forming a protective circle. Wyll was next, his brow unfurrowing as he joined them, followed by Lae'zel, whose steely gaze softened with a newfound respect. Shadowheart stepped in, her earlier tension melting away as she offered a reassuring smile.
Even Astarion, usually so guarded, moved closer. With a hesitant but firm gesture, he placed his hand on Alex's other shoulder. "We've all faced our demons," he murmured, his voice a rare blend of empathy and acceptance.
Karlach, who had known what was coming, was the last to join. Her expression softened as she placed a hand on Alex's arm. "We face this together," she said, her voice steady and comforting.
In that moment, the group became more than just companions—they became a family. They stood there, united by their shared experiences and the bonds they had forged. Alex felt the weight of their support, a warmth spreading through him, melting the remnants of his solitary existence.
For the first time, he felt truly accepted, not just as a weapon or a tool, but as a person, a friend. It was a moment of profound connection, a silent promise that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, united and strong.
But the moment was short-lived as his mind radar flared to life. Dozens upon dozens of minds were approaching them, with even more stepping into his range. They were under ambush. A rumble shook the castle and the ceiling gave in, revealing four red dragons with their riders on their backs—Githyanki. The debris hit the barrier, falling beside it. Then, out of the sky, a flying ship appeared, bristling with armed githyanki warriors.
As if things couldn't get worse, the Astral Prism flew from Shadowheart's satchel and spun around before them like a spinner. From the middle of it erupted a portal, revealing the Astral Sea in all its otherworldly glory. The scene was chaotic, floating debris illuminated by the strange ambient light of the astral plane.
They could hear the voice of The Guardian, laced with urgency. “I am under attack. Help me,” the voice echoed in their minds.
For the Guardian, who had remained silent since Alex had consumed the tadpoles from his friends' heads, to now require help so desperately meant that things were dire. They needed to check what was happening inside the Prism, and they needed to act fast.
Alex's mind raced, understanding the urgency, they couldn't afford to waste any time.
"Everyone, we need to get into the Prism," Alex commanded, his voice steady and urgent. " Prepare yourselves."
They moved towards the glowing portal, the group's resolve hardened. The air around the portal crackled with arcane energy, the view of the Astral Sea beyond it both mesmerizing and terrifying.