As they headed back to the circus, Alex felt Shadowheart’s hand brush lightly against his own. Without thinking, he reached for it, his fingers intertwining with hers. A quiet warmth passed between them, a kind of comfort he hadn't known he craved.
His gaze shifted to her, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. There was a softness in her expression, a rare vulnerability that she rarely allowed herself to show. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, and for a moment, the chaos of the world around them faded into nothing.
“You would make a good father,” Shadowheart said suddenly, her voice soft but clear.
The words caught Alex off guard. His brows knit together in mild confusion as he tilted his head at her, searching her face for more context. But she said nothing else, her smile lingering as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Alex felt a mix of emotions bubble within him, unsure whether to be flattered, confused, or deeply introspective.
By the time they entered the circus yard, his thoughts were still racing. However, the scene before them quickly pulled him back to reality.
The dynamic within the group had shifted, though no one could have anticipated just how much. Lara stood beside Glut of all beings, her presence softened . A small, genuine smile played on her lips. She chuckled heartily at something Glut had said—or done—and, to Alex's utter disbelief, playfully brushed her hand against his shoulder, as if they were old friends sharing an inside joke.
Lara’s striking figure seemed even more radiant in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. Her dark brown hair, usually tied back in a practical braid, caught the light as it framed her face, a cascade of glossy waves escaping confinement. Her sharp hazel-green eyes glimmered with a warmth and amusement he hadn’t expected, their usual intensity softened in this rare, candid moment. High cheekbones and a defined jawline gave her a regal, timeless beauty, but today, her expression held none of the hardened edges . She looked almost...at peace.
Her athletic build, lean and powerful, spoke of countless battles fought and won. Every step she took carried the confidence of someone who had conquered mountains—both metaphorical and literal—but in that moment, she was relaxed, her movements fluid, almost playful.
Her clothing, however, spoke to her role as an adventurer, one well-versed in navigating both treacherous wilds and dangerous dungeons. A fitted leather jerkin hugged her frame. A wide leather belt cinched her waist. Sturdy trousers of dark gray linen tucked into worn but well-crafted leather boots, their soles scuffed from countless miles traveled.
A pair of fingerless leather gloves adorned her hands, and though they looked elegant, the faint scars and calluses on her fingers spoke of a life lived in battle. Though unassuming, the way her fingers occasionally brushed against it suggested it held meaning far deeper than its appearance.
Alex’s brow furrowed as he observed Lara lean in to whisper something in Glut’s ear, prompting a rough but unmistakable chuckle from the myconid. The sound was so foreign coming from him that Alex almost questioned whether he was hallucinating.
“Interesting pairing,” Shadowheart murmured beside him, her voice laced with amusement.
Before Alex could respond, his attention shifted to the rest of the group. They were locked in a heated discussion over the fate of the trident, Nyrulna.
“Can I keep it?” Karlach asked, her voice hopeful but firm.
“No, it’s mine,” Astarion snapped, clutching the trident closer as though someone might snatch it from him.
“But didn’t you say it gives you a headache every time you’re near it because of the light it emits?” Gale asked, his tone dry but pointed.
“Yes, and?” Astarion shot back, glaring at the wizard. “It’s mine. I found it.”
“I hate to say it, but Gale should have it,” Alex interjected as he approached the group, his tone calm but firm.
The bickering stopped immediately as everyone turned to look at him. Their attention then shifted to Shadowheart, their joined hands making it abundantly clear that something had changed.
Astarion rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Oh, gods, not another couple.” He threw his hands in the air dramatically. “If you two start making eyes at each other like Karlach and Wyll do, I’m leaving. Immediately.”
“Wait... are you two together?” Wyll asked, his tone a mixture of surprise and genuine happiness.
“Since last night,” Shadowheart replied, her voice warm as she smiled up at Alex.
Karlach let out an excited squeal and rushed forward, throwing her arms around them both in a massive, bone-crushing hug. “You two look so good together!” she exclaimed, her grin infectious.
“Thank you,” Alex said, chuckling as he returned the hug.
Lae’zel, who had been silently watching from the edge of the group, let out a sharp tsk. “This emotional weakness will slow us down,” she said, crossing her arms. But there was a glimmer of something softer in her eyes—approval, perhaps, though she’d sooner swallow her own sword than admit it.
Gale, on the other hand, looked at them with a bemused expression, his hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Well, it seems love is in the air. First Wyll and Karlach, and now you two. I wonder who’ll be next. Astarion, care to make a wager?”
Astarion shot him a murderous glare. “Don’t you dare.”
“Astarion’s just jealous,” Shadowheart teased, her tone light.
“Hardly,” Astarion replied, his lips curling into a sly smile. “But if you ever need romantic advice, do let me know. I am quite the poet, after all.”
“Please, spare us,” Lae’zel grumbled, rolling her eyes.
The group burst into laughter, even Astarion smirking despite himself.
Karlach handed the trident to Gale.
"I don't know how to use it," Gale admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I was never a fighter, until recently."
Alex's gaze softened. "I understand, Gale. I'll show you how to wield it properly, but let's find somewhere private first."
Gale nodded, relief washing over his features as he handed the trident to Alex. "Could you store this for me? It would only hinder me while casting spells." His words were almost a plea, the trident feeling foreign in his hands.
Alex accepted the trident, his grip firm yet gentle. "Of course," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring. He took the trident from Gale's hand, a purple energy envelope it , then it disappeared .
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The sun was high in the sky, casting golden light over the vibrant chaos of the circus. Alex and his companions roamed through the bustling yard, their senses alive with the music of bards, the hearty laughter of children, and the occasional gasp of wonder from onlookers. Clowns tumbled and flipped in the air, their colorful outfits blurring as they performed daring tricks, while the scent of roasted nuts and sweet confections filled the air.
Alex’s attention, however, was drawn to the center of the yard. An old tree stood tall and proud, its ancient roots sprawling across the earth like the veins of some massive, slumbering creature. Next to it stood a dryad—a vision of ethereal beauty and grace.
Her form was mesmerizing, glowing faintly with a golden-green light that seemed to breathe in sync with the surrounding flora. Her skin shimmered, as though kissed by sunlight breaking through forest canopies, while vines and delicate leaves adorned her like living armor, moving subtly with her every breath. Antler-like branches sprouted from her fiery red hair, which fell in wild, untamed waves around her sharp but elegant features.
Her luminous eyes swept over Alex and his companions, but when they landed on him, they lingered, probing deeper than his armor or flesh. There was an unspoken authority in the way she stood, her hand extended as though she could summon the very essence of the forest to her aid. Around her, flowers seemed to bloom brighter, their petals glowing faintly, bowing in reverence to her presence.
Alex and Shadowheart stopped before her, their companions drifting into the background as the dryad’s soft, melodic voice filled the air.
“The city of stone and steel is an endless scream in nature’s womb,” she began, her words laced with sorrow and reproach. “I have felt no peace here… until now.” Her gaze bore into Alex’s, her golden eyes almost painful to meet. “Your eyes, stira. There is a pain, endless and deep. But also devotion—blazing like the sun. You are in love, are you not?”
The question caught Alex off guard. He cast a glance at Shadowheart by his side. Her expression softened, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He felt the answer rise in his chest, warm and undeniable.
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“I do love someone,” Alex admitted, his voice steady but low, as if speaking the words aloud gave them even more power.
The dryad tilted her head, a serene smile gracing her lips. “You are wise to admit it,” she said. “When it comes to love, vulnerability is armor. Truth, a sword. And trust, a shield—I pray you wield all three, stira.” She paused, her gaze flicking to Shadowheart and back to Alex. “Bring the one you love to me. I will look into your hearts and see if your love is eternal… or doomed eternally. For a price of 100 gold pieces.”
Alex glanced at Shadowheart, searching her expression. He wasn’t sure if it was curiosity, amusement, or skepticism he saw in her dark eyes—perhaps a mix of all three.
“What do you say, Shadowheart?” Alex asked, his voice soft.
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk that hinted at danger. “It can’t hurt, I suppose,” she said. “Unless you embarrass me. Then you might find yourself hurting in a whole manner of ways.” Her words were playful, but the sharp glint in her eyes made Alex chuckle .
The dryad stepped forward, raising one glowing hand, her presence suddenly more commanding. “Close your eyes, little ones,” she instructed, her voice like the rustle of leaves in a gentle wind. “Be still as stone to earth. And remember to breathe.”
Alex hesitated for only a moment, glancing once more at Shadowheart. Her hand slipped into his, her grip firm and steady. That simple act calmed him, and he obeyed, closing his eyes.
At first, he felt nothing—just the warmth of the sun on his skin and the faint murmur of the circus around him. Then, slowly, he felt a pull, soft and insistent, as though the forest itself were calling to him. He resisted at first, instinctively guarding his mind, but the pull wasn’t forceful. It was warm, like a spring breeze that promised comfort rather than danger.
Alex exhaled, letting go, and felt himself drift.
When he opened his eyes, the world had changed. He stood in a forest, its beauty untouched by time. The air was thick with the scent of moss and blooming flowers, and sunlight streamed through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. A crystal-clear river wound through the heart of the forest, its gentle babble the only sound. To his left, a waterfall tumbled over jagged rocks, its silver spray catching the light in a thousand colors.
On the other side of the river stood Shadowheart and the dryad, their figures bathed in an otherworldly glow. A thick tree trunk spanned the water, its surface polished smooth by time, offering a tenuous bridge between the two banks. The dryad’s glow was brighter here, her presence radiant and commanding, as though the forest itself obeyed her silent call. Shadowheart looked different, transformed by the soft light. Her hair shimmered like liquid silver, cascading over her shoulders in silken waves, and her usually guarded expression had softened, vulnerability glinting in her eyes.
The dryad turned her gaze to Alex, her hand lifting gracefully, beckoning him closer. Her voice, soft yet resonant, broke the silence. “I see you,” she said, her words lingering in the air like a breeze through leaves. “I see the bond between you—so tender, so fragile. But do you see it for yourselves?” Her luminous eyes moved slowly between Alex and Shadowheart, her gaze piercing yet compassionate. “Shadowheart: an endless storm surges behind sharp eyes,” the dryad continued, her words weaving a thread of truth that left no room for denial. “Listen. Think. Where does Shadowheart draw comfort on a cold, dark night?”
Alex didn’t hesitate. “Good company and an even better vintage,” he said, his voice steady, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Well put. Though I’ll forgive a middling wine as long as the company makes the difference…” Her tone was light, but her eyes betrayed a hint of warmth at his quick reply.
Without warning, Alex felt a gentle push against his back, as though unseen hands urged him forward. He stepped onto the tree trunk, his boots pressing against the smooth bark. The river below gurgled softly, the sound echoing in the stillness, but he stopped after only a few steps, hesitant.
The dryad’s voice broke through again, serene yet commanding. “Hear how your bond thrums with pleasure. Strong. Vital. Pulsing with affection. The heart craves comfort but needs respect. How does one earn the dark-haired maiden’s respect?”
Shadowheart’s lips parted slightly in surprise, her expression shifting as if struck by an unspoken truth. Her fingers brushed the silver strands of her hair, a moment of self-awareness crossing her features. “How did you…” she murmured, bewildered. Her hair, now shining like moonlight, had once been jet black. Yet the dryad did not spare her a glance; her attention was entirely on Alex, waiting patiently for his answer.
Alex met the dryad’s gaze without faltering. “By being discreet,” he replied, his voice calm and sure.
“Very good,” the dryad whispered, a hint of amusement in her tone. “Though… perhaps don’t say it quite so loud.” Her words carried a teasing warmth, but her approval was unmistakable.
Once again, Alex felt the push, stronger this time, urging him to the middle of the trunk. The river whispered below him, its surface rippling like liquid silver, as though it too were listening to the dryad’s words.
“The sweetest loves dance lightly on the tongue,” the dryad said, her voice taking on a deeper, more somber tone. “But now we must dig deeper—into the most painful reaches of the spirit.” She paused, her glowing eyes meeting Alex’s with an intensity that seemed to strip him bare. “Shame sits in the soul of all. To tame it, we must name it. Shadowheart—what is her deepest shame?”
Alex’s voice was softer this time, but unwavering. “She doesn’t know who she is or where she belongs.”
Shadowheart stiffened slightly, her expression faltering. The dryad’s words, Alex’s response—they cut deeper than she’d expected. Her gaze fell, her voice tinged with sadness. “I didn’t think a little game would sting so much when I agreed to this… but you’re right.”
The air between them thickened, the playful teasing of moments before replaced by something raw and unspoken. Shadowheart took a step forward, her movements slow and deliberate, the sound of her boots against the trunk breaking the silence. She stopped when she reached him, meeting him in the middle of the bridge. Her eyes, though shimmering with vulnerability, held a flicker of determination.
“A perfect score,” she said softly, her voice carrying a faint note of pride, tinged with sadness.
The dryad smiled faintly, her voice rising once more. “How close you are. Two hearts beating in perfect rhythm. But I know the truth. Only one face haunts your dreams each night.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, their meaning undeniable. “Close your eyes, sweetness,” the dryad murmured, her voice laced with a gentle authority. “And she will come to you…”
Alex and Shadowheart exchanged a glance before obeying. They closed their eyes, and the world around them seemed to shift. A powerful wind rose suddenly, whipping through the trees and sending leaves scattering like whispers of the past. Alex could hear faint footsteps, slow and deliberate, moving toward them. The dryad’s presence was palpable, her voice now a song in the air.
The ground beneath their feet felt firm again, and when Alex opened his eyes, they were back in the circus yard. The vibrant chaos of the performers returned, and the old tree stood tall to their left, its branches swaying gently as though they too had been part of the journey.
Shadowheart’s hand was still in his, her grip warm and steady. She looked at him, her expression softer than he’d ever seen, her dark eyes searching his face.
“You didn’t miss a single answer,” she said, her voice low, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Alex chuckled softly. “I couldn’t afford to,” he replied. “Besides, I had good material to work with.”
Shadowheart rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze lingered, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The dryad’s words might have faded, but their weight remained, settling into the space between their hearts. It was fragile, yes—but it was theirs.
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The dryad’s luminous gaze swept over the group, her presence commanding the yard as if the world itself paused to listen. She turned her attention to Alex, her glowing eyes narrowing slightly, expectant. Alex, understanding her unspoken request, reached into his pouch and handed her 100 gold pieces, the coins gleaming briefly in the dryad’s hand before vanishing into her ethereal glow.
“Go in peace, seedling,” the dryad murmured to Alex and Shadowheart, her voice gentle yet profound. “And know that you made one whose heart was long quiet beat with love anew.” Her words hung in the air, resonating like a soft melody, and for a moment, the yard seemed to hush in reverence.
Before the dryad could retreat into her stillness, Karlach grabbed Wyll’s hand enthusiastically. “Wyll, let’s try it too!” she said, her energy boundless. Without waiting for a response, she pulled him forward, stopping before the dryad.
The dryad tilted her head, her glowing eyes now fixed on Wyll and Karlach. With a nod of acknowledgment, she extended her hand toward them. “Close your eyes,” she instructed softly, her voice carrying a subtle warmth. “Be still, like stone to earth. Let your hearts speak freely.”
The rest of the party watched in silence, their curiosity piqued as the dryad began guiding Wyll and Karlach. Her words, while similar to those she had spoken earlier, took on a new rhythm, tailored to the fiery woman and her steadfast companion.
“Karlach,” the dryad began, her tone rich with meaning, “the fire within you can incinerate an enemy or warm a beloved. Listen. Think. Who does she loathe above all others?” Her voice was calm yet insistent, drawing the answer out like a thread from a tapestry.
“Gortash,” Wyll answered immediately, his voice steady but carrying an edge of venom.
Karlach snorted, her response swift and fiery. “Just the sound of his name makes my blood boil—probably literally! Can’t stand the bastard. Ding-dong!” Her voice, though humorous, carried a raw, simmering anger that made the group exchange amused but understanding glances.
But it was Shadowheart’s soft gasp that broke the moment. Her eyes flew open, realization dawning on her face. “Everyone… everyone heard what I said,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing as she raised her hand to cover her face. The memory of her vulnerable confessions to Alex hung in the air, and the group couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Who knew you had such a soft side?” Astarion drawled from the side, a smirk curling his lips. “Wine and good company? You’re like a grandma.”
Shadowheart peeked over her hand, glaring at him. “Not a grandma,” she shot back, her voice muffled but indignant.
“Probably an older woman,” Gale chimed in, unable to resist adding his own jab.
Shadowheart’s glare shifted to him, her blush deepening. “Not even you, Gale! Has Astarion corrupted you too?”
Gale shrugged, his expression unrepentant. “I’m just diversifying my humor,” he replied smoothly. “Now I understand why Astarion acts the way he does. It’s mean, sure, but… oddly entertaining.”
“I know, right?” Astarion said with a dramatic flourish, as if they’d just uncovered the secret to life itself. “Seeing everyone as fools does make things easier.” He paused, catching Alex’s pointed gaze. “Well, almost everyone,” he amended quickly, his smirk faltering for a moment.
“At least those fools don’t need to suck rat blood to survive,” Lae’zel interjected coldly, her tone biting as she folded her arms.
Astarion’s lips barely moved as he muttered under his breath, “Toad.” Yet even he knew better than to escalate further, noting Alex’s quiet enjoyment of the banter. He softened his expression, letting the moment settle.
The dryad’s voice reclaimed their attention, her tone deeper, more resonant now. “Hear how your bond thrums with pleasure. Strong. Vital. Pulsing with affection,” she began, addressing Wyll and Karlach with reverence. “Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, Wyll—what is her idea of a perfect day?”
Wyll hesitated for only a moment, then cleared his throat as though steeling himself. “Bashing baddies…” He faltered briefly, then, with a roguish grin, he added, “-interspersed with victory sex.”
Karlach let out a loud, hearty laugh, her voice ringing across the yard like a bell. “You know me too well!” she said, her grin wide and full of warmth .
The group chuckled, the lightness of the moment contagious. Even the dryad’s ethereal smile deepened slightly, as if she too found joy in their bond.