As Alex clawed his way through the unyielding stone, his senses sharpened. The air in the tunnel grew heavy, laden with an inexplicable warmth that wrapped around him like a gentle embrace. He stopped digging, his breath hitching as he realized the source: the orb nested deep within his chest. It pulsed like a living heart, its glow intensifying with every passing moment.
The warmth wasn’t painful—it was soothing, like sinking into warm water. A kaleidoscope of colors shimmered from the orb, rippling across his blackened scales in patterns eerily reminiscent of Trezorr’s prismatic hues. The sight left Alex momentarily stunned. Whatever this was... Something profound was happening.
With a deliberate motion, Alex opened the armored plates of his chest, exposing the orb. Instantly, the tunnel was bathed in cascading rainbow light, casting dancing colors on the jagged stone walls. He watched, mesmerized, as the orb’s glow became brighter, its warmth spreading deeper into his being.
Then, he felt it—his body began to shift. His obsidian scales lost their solidity, melting like wax under the sun. His massive frame quivered as his form liquefied, transforming into a mass of shimmering, multi-colored slime. His consciousness remained intact, but his dragon body was now unrecognizable, a gelatinous, transparent form with the orb suspended in its center, glowing like a celestial beacon.
The transformation didn’t hurt—it was surreal, almost dreamlike. The ooze-like texture of his new body felt alien yet oddly empowering. His translucent surface rippled with shifting colors, refracting light like a living prism. For a moment, Alex simply existed in this form, marveling at the strange adaptability and fluidity it afforded him.
Then came the flash.
A burst of light radiated from the orb.
When it faded, Alex felt his body solidify, his familiar dragon form returning. He flexed his claws, his wings stretching wide, testing himself.
“Interesting,” Alex murmured, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity. “Now I can shift into ooze. Not sure how useful this could be…” He trailed off, his gaze narrowing as he focused on the orb once more. The multicolored glow within seemed alive, pulsing in rhythm with his thoughts.
Raising one clawed hand, Alex summoned a flickering red flame. It danced in his palm like a living entity. With a subtle mental nudge, he willed the orb’s power to flow into it. The flame flickered, shifting in hue until it turned a pale, icy blue. He hurled the flame at the tunnel wall, watching as it struck the stone. Instead of burning, the flame froze the surface, leaving behind a thin layer of frost that crackled before extinguishing itself.
A slow, satisfied grin spread across his draconic features. “Now this could be interesting,” he mused, testing the newfound harmony within him. Thanks to Trezorr’s essence, he could now combine different elements, even those that were opposites. “Thank you, Trezorr,” Alex said, his deep voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
Leaving his dragon form deep in the cavern to slumber, Alex allowed his body to shrink and shift once more. His humanoid form emerged from the Chionthar River, the icy water cascading off him as he stepped onto the sunlit beach beneath Wyrm’s Crossing. His eyes rose to meet the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to crest, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. A rare, genuine smile graced his lips as he took in the scene.
He had done it. Ansur had been laid to rest, and Trezorr—a threat capable of annihilating the entire city—was no more. For a fleeting moment, Alex allowed himself to savor the victory. But the smile faded, replaced by a grim resolve. The battle was won, but the war was far from over. Lurking in the shadows were countless other threats, waiting for their moment to strike.
The shadows swallowed him as he vanished into the city.
----------------------------------------
In an instant, Alex reappeared in Dolor’s secret room. The dimly lit chamber was heavy with tension as his eyes fell on the three figures waiting for him. Astarion stood at the forefront, his expression smug as always. Behind him, Dalyria and Petra froze, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.
“You arrived faster than I expected,” Astarion said, his smirk widening as he noted the unease in his fellow spawns. “Don’t tell me a primordial was too easy for you?”
His voice dripped with amusement, no doubt relishing the reactions he’d elicited by telling the others about Alex’s mission. It wasn’t just for fun—Astarion wanted them to know who they were dealing with. Alex could see the marks of submission on Dalyria and Petra, no doubt reinforced by Astarion’s brutal methods.
Alex stepped forward, his presence commanding, and the room seemed to shrink around him. His gaze was firm as it swept over the two spawns, who instinctively stiffened under his scrutiny. Then he spoke, his voice low but laced with unmistakable authority.
“The primordial wasn’t easy,” Alex began, his tone casual yet laced with an edge that silenced any response. “But it’s done. Trezorr is gone, and so is any threat it posed.”
Astarion chuckled, clearly unbothered by the weight in Alex’s words. “Impressive, truly. "
Behind Astarion the two spawns exchanged uneasy glances.
Alex turned to Astarion, the barest hint of amusement flickering in his expression. “I trust they’ve been cooperative in my absence?”
Astarion’s grin widened, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “Oh, they’ve been perfect little lambs,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Isn’t that right, darlings?”
Dalyria and Petra both nodded hurriedly, their fear palpable.
Alex nodded, his piercing eyes locking onto the spawns with a calm yet decisive presence. He opened his mouth, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"You are free to go," Alex said, his tone neutral but firm.
The three spawns froze, their confusion evident. Dalyria’s lips parted slightly as if to question, but no words came. Petras furrowed his brow, while Astarion tilted his head, his ever-present smirk faltering just a fraction.
"You have no use for them?" Astarion asked, his voice sharp with curiosity, though there was a flicker of amusement in his tone.
Alex shook his head slowly, his expression unyielding. "No," he replied, his voice steady. "As they are now—severed from Cazador—they are weakened. They would only prove to be a liability." His words were cutting but devoid of malice. They were simply the truth.
Dalyria glanced at Petras, who clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He stepped forward, his body rigid with barely contained anger. "You’ve made a grave mistake," Petras said, his voice low but laced with fury. His fangs gleamed as he spoke. "Master was about to bestow upon us a great gift—a blessing that would have finally set us free!"
From the side, Astarion let out a derisive chuckle, his voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, Petras, drinking too much rat blood must’ve rotted what’s left of your brain," he sneered. "When was Cazador ever good with…what’s the word? Blessings?"
Petras’s hand instinctively flew to his neck, the memory of Astarion’s near-fatal grip still fresh in his mind. He winced, but his anger didn’t dissipate. Instead, his eyes burned with defiance, glaring daggers at Astarion.
But then, a quieter voice broke through the tension.
"Astarion is right," Dalyria said, her words soft yet weighted. Her gaze, distant and pained, drew the room’s attention like a magnet. "Cazador had no great gift for us. He never did."
Petras whirled on her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. "Not you too, Dal!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as if trying to dispel her words. "How can you say that?"
Dalyria hesitated, her hands trembling slightly at her sides, but her eyes remained steady on Petras. "There’s something I kept secret," she said quietly, her voice faltering but determined. "A few nights ago…I overheard a conversation. Between Cazador and Grai."
The room fell eerily silent as her words sank in. Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly, his mind already working to piece the puzzle together.
"What did you hear?" Astarion asked, his smirk vanishing entirely. His voice was sharp now, all traces of his usual smugness replaced by an icy seriousness.
Dalyria swallowed hard before continuing. "Cazador was angry. Frustrated, even. He said that without you, Astarion, he couldn’t complete the sacrifice."
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The air in the room thickened with tension, so heavy it was almost suffocating. Astarion’s eyes widened, his face a mask of shock and suppressed rage. Petras, too, froze, the realization beginning to dawn on him.
Alex’s voice cut through the silence like a commandment. "Petras," he said firmly, his gaze locking onto the other spawn. "Turn around."
Petras hesitated, his eyes darting between Alex and Astarion, but something in Alex’s unyielding expression forced him to obey. Slowly, he turned his back to Alex. With precise movements, Alex lifted Petras’s shirt, exposing the pale skin of his back.
There it was—a pattern of scars etched into his flesh, circular and precise, mirroring the ones on Astarion’s back. Alex’s crimson eyes darkened as the truth became irrefutable.
"Cazador is planning to sacrifice you," Alex said, his voice low and cold. "It’s part of some kind of ritual."
Petras stiffened, his breathing shallow. "Impossible," he whispered, his voice trembling with both denial and desperation. He turned back to face Alex, baring his fangs in anger. "We are useful to Master! He needs us!"
Dalyria’s gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of a terrible truth. "If you don’t believe it," Alex said, his tone unwavering, "then go back to him. See what happens for yourself."
Petras’s anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of doubt. He clenched his fists, his mind racing, but deep down, the seeds of fear had already taken root.
A suffocating silence fell over the room. For a moment, none of them spoke, the weight of Alex’s words pressing down on them like a vice.
Finally, Alex broke the silence. "There is another option," he said, his voice steady but carrying a glimmer of something softer—something hopeful.
All eyes turned to him, their gazes filled with a mix of curiosity, hesitation, and desperation.
"Do you wish to be human again?" Alex asked, his words carrying the weight of an impossible promise.
The question hung in the air, like a spark igniting a dormant fire. Dalyria’s eyes widened, and without hesitation, she stepped forward. Her voice trembled, but there was no mistaking the conviction behind her words.
"Yes," she said, her tone barely above a whisper. "I want to be human again."
Petras looked at her, stunned. "Dalyria…" he began, his voice heavy with disbelief.
She turned to him, her expression soft but resolute. "I can’t go back, Petras. I won’t go back. I’ve seen what we’ve become, what we’ve been reduced to. If there’s even a chance to have my humanity back…I have to take it."
Petras looked torn, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. His fists tightened, and his jaw worked as he struggled to find the words. "But if you lose your powers," he said hesitantly, "how will you protect yourself? How will you survive?"
Dalyria’s gaze softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. "I’d rather die free, as a human, than live another day as a tool for Cazador," she said firmly.
Petras took a step back, his eyes darting between Dalyria and Alex. The weight of the decision bore down on him like a crushing wave. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he simply stood there, paralyzed by the enormity of what was being offered.
Astarion, who had remained quiet until now, let out a low chuckle. "Well, Petras," he drawled, his tone as sharp as a blade, "it seems the choice is yours. Stay a spineless lapdog for Cazador or take a gamble on freedom. What’s it going to be?"
Petras’s gaze fell to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the decision. For the first time, his anger was replaced by something else—fear.
Alex waited patiently, his expression calm but unreadable. Whatever Petras chose, Alex had already made up his mind: the days of Cazador’s tyranny were numbered.
Alex stood in the dimly lit room with Astarion and Dalyria, the air thick with tension. The memory of Petras’s refusal lingered like a shadow, though Alex’s expression betrayed no regret. Petras had made his choice, and Alex had honored it, letting him go despite Astarion's protests.
"This is going to bite you later," Astarion muttered, crossing his arms and narrowing his crimson eyes. "You should’ve killed him on the spot." His tone was sharp, laced with frustration.
Alex glanced at Astarion briefly, his face calm and unreadable. "I let him go for a reason," Alex replied evenly, his voice steady. "He still has a part to play."
Astarion scoffed but said nothing more. He knew better than to argue further, though the dissatisfaction on his face was clear.
Alex turned to Dalyria, who stood silently, her hands trembling slightly despite her composed exterior. Her sharp mind, once the pride of Baldur's Gate's Parliament as a Physician General, now warred with the uncertainty of the moment. She’d made her decision, but the weight of it pressed heavily on her.
"Lie down on the floor," Alex instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.
Dalyria hesitated for only a moment before obeying. Slowly, she lowered herself to the cold stone floor, her movements stiff with both apprehension and determination. Alex knelt beside her, his tall, commanding figure radiating an almost otherworldly presence.
Alex raised his hand, and before her eyes, it began to shift. The skin rippled and twisted unnaturally, elongating into a mass of dark, writhing tendrils. Dalyria’s eyes widened in alarm, and instinctively, she began to sit up.
"Stay calm," Alex said gently, his voice cutting through her rising panic. His other hand rested on her shoulder, firm yet reassuring. "I swear, when this is done, you will be human again."
Her gaze flickered to Astarion, who stood silently by, watching with a rare intensity. He caught her eyes and offered a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it steadied her resolve. Taking a deep breath, Dalyria’s jaw tightened, and she laid back down, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
Alex’s tendrils moved toward her, slithering across her body like living shadows. They pressed against her skin before sinking into her flesh, disappearing into her veins. Dalyria gasped sharply, her body arching reflexively as a searing pain coursed through her. Every nerve in her body screamed as if her very essence was being unraveled.
The pain was unbearable—like fire and ice clawing at her from within. But then, amidst the agony, she felt a sudden, grounding sensation. A gentle squeeze on her hand. She turned her head slightly, her tear-filled eyes meeting Alex’s. His gaze, intense and focused, softened for a brief moment as he held her hand.
"Stay with me," Alex said softly, his voice steady and reassuring, anchoring her through the storm of pain.
Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing sensation radiated from her neck down through her spine. Before she could cry out, her body went completely numb. Her chest no longer rose and fell, and she realized with horror that she couldn’t move. Panic surged within her until Alex’s voice echoed in her mind.
'I’ve severed your spinal cord temporarily,' Alex explained telepathically, his voice calm and clear. 'It will stop the pain and keep your body stable while I work.'
The explanation eased her fear, though only slightly. Dalyria recognized the words; as a doctor, she understood what he’d done. It was an unorthodox method—one that left her feeling trapped in her own body—but she trusted him. She had no other choice.
"What…are you doing to me?" she tried to ask, but her mouth failed her. Without control of her diaphragm, she couldn’t even draw air to speak. Alex’s voice came again, directly into her mind.
‘I’m changing your flesh back to living tissue while siphoning the dark energy that binds you as a spawn,’ he explained. His tone was calm yet laced with precision, as if he were conducting an intricate surgery.
Dalyria closed her eyes.
Memories flooded her mind: her life before Cazador, the patients she had healed, the friends she had loved, the vibrant days she had spent under the sun. All of it had been ripped away when she became a spawn. But now, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope stirred within her. She gritted her teeth, enduring the excruciating process as Alex continued his work.
Alex’s tendrils pulsed with energy, drawing out the dark magic that had seeped into her very marrow. Her body began to change. The gray, pallid tone of her skin warmed, flushing with the faintest hint of color. Her veins, once dark and lifeless, glowed faintly as life returned to her flesh. The connection to her vampiric nature frayed and splintered, dissolving into nothingness.
"You’re doing well," Alex said aloud, his voice low and steady. His gaze flickered to her face, watching for any sign of distress.
Dalyria’s lips trembled, but she managed a faint nod, her trust in him unwavering. Despite the agony, despite the fear, she held on.
And then, as if a switch had been flipped, the pain subsided. A warmth spread through her body, soothing and comforting. Alex retracted his tendrils slowly, the writhing shadows retreating back into his hand, which reformed into its normal shape. He placed his hand gently on her chest, where he could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart.
"It’s done," Alex said softly.
Dalyria opened her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell with a deep, shuddering breath—the first breath she had taken as a human in what felt like an eternity. Her hands trembled as she raised them to her face, feeling the warmth of her own skin, the softness of her cheeks.
"I’m…alive," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.
Alex stood and offered her his hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she managed to stand, her entire body humming with the unfamiliar sensation of life coursing through her veins.
"Welcome back," Alex said, a faint but genuine smile gracing his lips.
Astarion, who had been silent throughout, gave a slow clap. "Well, that was dramatic," he said, though there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes as he looked at Dalyria. "Congratulations, darling. You’re free."
Dalyria turned to Alex, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice steady despite the tears. "I’ll never forget this."
Alex handed Dalyria a small pouch filled with gold coins and essential supplies. The weight of the moment lingered in the air as he met her eyes one final time.
"Good luck," Alex said, his voice calm but laced with quiet determination.
Dalyria clutched the pouch tightly and offered him a warm smile, though her expression soon darkened as she turned to Astarion. "Tell Leon, if you ever meet him, that I’m sorry for what I did to his daughter, Victoria." Her voice trembled slightly, and the weight of her regret was evident.
Alex raised his hand and cast a teleportation spell, the arcane energy enveloping Dalyria in a soft glow. With a faint shimmer, she disappeared, transported far away from Baldur’s Gate, free to start a new life.
As the glow faded, Alex turned to Astarion, his crimson eyes sharp and piercing. The vampire spawn met his gaze, folding his arms and leaning casually against the wall.
"I didn’t know you could do that," Astarion said, his voice monotone, though curiosity flickered behind his words. "Why didn’t you tell me you could do this?"
Alex regarded him silently for a moment before speaking. "Because you don’t want to go back to being an elf."
Astarion blinked, then chuckled softly. "Fair point. Now that I can walk in the sun without turning into a pile of ash, being what I am has its… advantages. Eternal youth is quite the perk, after all." His tone was light, but there was a hint of defensiveness beneath his words.
Alex shook his head, his expression unreadable.
He felt the stirrings of wakefulness in the minds of those still in the bunkhouse. His companions were beginning to rise, their thoughts swirling with curiosity and concern. Shadowheart’s presence stood out—her mind was particularly distressed, the turmoil in her thoughts like ripples on a stormy sea.