Alex suddenly halted mid-stride, his sharp gaze fixed upward on a dilapidated balcony. Jaheira turned, curious about his abrupt pause, her eyes scanning the same direction but finding nothing unusual.
“Lady Incognita,” Alex said with a sly smirk, his voice carrying an edge of amusement, “a pleasure to meet you again.”
Jaheira furrowed her brows and followed his gaze, but all she saw were weathered bricks and shadows. Then, as if conjured by his words, a robed figure emerged from the darkness.
Two piercing crimson eyes gleamed from within the hood, locking onto Alex with an intensity that sent a faint chill through the air.
The figure leapt from the balcony with a grace that defied human capability, landing silently on the cobblestones beside Alex.
Jaheira’s hand instinctively hovered over the hilts of her scimitars, her body tensing.
“Easy,” Alex murmured, raising a calming hand toward her. With his other hand, he brushed his face, dissolving the illusion that concealed his true form. Blue eyes met crimson, and for a fleeting moment, the air between Alex and the robed figure buzzed with a strange, unspoken familiarity.
The figure’s lips curled into a faint smile beneath the hood, though it faltered when her gaze shifted to Jaheira.
“Who is she?” the robed figure asked, her voice soft but tinged with wariness.
“She’s a friend,” Alex replied firmly, gesturing toward Jaheira. “Jaheira, meet Lady Incognita—a friend of mine and a devoted follower of Lathander.”
At the mention of the Morninglord, Jaheira’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained watchful.
“And what brings her here?” Jaheira asked, her tone neutral but edged with curiosity.
Alex turned to Lady Incognita, his smirk returning. “I assume you have a good reason for stalking me since I set foot in these slums?”
The robed figure stiffened, crimson eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t stalking you,” she said, an unmistakable blush of embarrassment creeping into her voice. “I was… waiting for the right moment to speak with you.”
She extended a pale, porcelain-like hand—so delicate it seemed almost fragile—and placed it on Alex’s. “And only you can help me.”
Alex exchanged a glance with Jaheira, silently communicating his decision. “You can go, Jaheira. I’ll find you later.”
Jaheira hesitated for a moment, then nodded and walked away, her steps measured, though she cast one last wary glance over her shoulder.
Lady Incognita waited until Jaheira was out of sight before glancing up. “Follow me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
With a leap as swift and silent as a shadow, she scaled the walls of the alley, moving between buildings with inhuman grace.
Alex chuckled softly, his smirk widening as he leapt after her, keeping pace with ease.
They stopped on the rooftop of a tall building, the mist-covered slums stretching out below them. A single window stood before them.
Lady Incognita pushed the window open and stepped inside, signaling for Alex to follow.
The interior was unexpectedly immaculate, every surface polished and devoid of dust. The air smelled faintly of lavender, a stark contrast to the grime and decay outside.
Alex’s gaze swept across the room, lingering on the small details—books neatly stacked on shelves, a vase of dried flowers on a corner table, a lone candle burning on the windowsill. His eyes moved to Amanita, who sat by the window, her crimson gaze fixed on the misty alleys below.
“I assume you didn’t bring me here just to show me your place,” Alex said as he pulled a chair close to hers and sat down.
Amanita nodded, her pale hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“You know,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “you’re my only friend. The only friend I’ve ever had.”
Alex’s expression softened. He placed a reassuring hand over hers, the warmth of his touch grounding her.
She took a deep breath, her gaze distant. “I was born into a noble family—a strong one, but a family cloaked in mystery. I grew up on a country estate near Anga Vled, raised by old family servants. My visits to our city palace in Baldur’s Gate were rare, and even when I went, I couldn’t wait to leave and return to the countryside. The palace… it wasn’t just cold; it was alive with secrets, whispers in the walls, shadows that felt too close. At the time, I thought my life would be simple—quiet, even. But everything changed on my thirteenth birthday.”
She paused, her voice catching as she steadied herself. Alex waited patiently, his gaze unwavering.
“On that day,” she continued, “I was summoned to the city palace by my uncle. Old Drossel hitched the team to our finest carriage and drove me through Black Dragon Gate. From there, porters carried me in a litter through the Upper City to the palace.”
Her crimson eyes darkened, her voice growing quieter. “The chamberlain was waiting for me. He led me into the ballroom—a place I had never been allowed to enter before. The room was vast, cold, and resplendent in a way that felt more like a trap than a celebration.”
Amanita sat still, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke, her voice wavering with the weight of long-buried memories.
“The whole family was waiting for me,” she began, crimson eyes distant, her gaze fixed on something only she could see. “Every living member: Uncle, Granddam Fistula, Great-Aunt Dralia, and Cousin Blovart. They were seated in a semicircle in the grand ballroom, their faces as cold and lifeless as the gilded clavichord that played on its own, its haunting melody filling the air. The room reeked of wealth, power... and something darker. Something that made my skin crawl.”
Her voice caught, and she bit her lip—a sharp fang piercing the soft flesh. A thin trickle of blood slid down her chin, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“They summoned me to the center of the room. Uncle sat like a king on his armchair, his eyes cold and commanding. He told me to approach him and to look him in the eye.” Amanita paused, her breathing shallow. “I did. And that’s when everything changed.”
Alex leaned closer, his face a mask of quiet understanding, his blue eyes locked onto hers.
“My uncle made me a vampire that night,” Amanita continued, her voice a whisper now. “He gave me the Hunger... but he couldn’t break my will. I refused to participate in their so-called ‘family rites.’ He called me ungrateful, a stain on our lineage. So he ordered Blovart to imprison me in the attic. My punishment for defiance.”
Her pale hands clenched tightly around Alex’s, her knuckles white. Tears welled in her eyes, and when they spilled over, they ran down her cheeks like crimson streaks.
“For days, they sent up bowls of human blood,” she said, her voice cracking. “I resisted. I told myself I’d rather die than give in to this curse. But the Hunger—it doesn’t care about resolve. It doesn’t care about your strength. It gnaws at you, eats away at who you are until there’s nothing left.”
Her grip on Alex’s hand tightened as the tears fell faster.
“I held out for weeks. Then months. And then, one day... they stopped sending anything.” Her breath hitched, and she pressed her free hand to her mouth as if trying to hold back a sob. “I tore at the walls in desperation. I screamed until my throat bled. And then... they sent up a captive. A young girl. She couldn’t have been older than ten.”
The room seemed to grow colder, and Alex’s expression darkened, though he remained silent, letting her continue.
“She was bound and gagged, but her eyes…” Amanita’s voice broke entirely, and her shoulders shook as she cried. “Her eyes were so wide, so full of terror. She screamed for her parents as I... as I…”
Her words dissolved into quiet sobs, and Alex reached up to gently wipe away the blood-streaked tears from her cheeks.
“That was the first time I killed someone,” she whispered, her voice hollow. “To this day, I can still hear her screams. How she begged for her parents, how she fought until she couldn’t anymore. That was the night Amanita Szarr died. And in her place... Lady Incognita was born.”
She pulled her knees to her chest, curling into herself. “I spent the years that followed locked in that attic, refusing to leave even when the door was open. I wrote my little histories, chronicling the life I could no longer live. That’s when I chose the name Incognita. It felt fitting. Amanita was gone. I wasn’t her anymore.”
A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by Amanita’s shuddering breaths.
Finally, she looked up at Alex, her crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of pain and determination. “But now, after all this time, I have the strength to end this nightmare. To destroy my family and all the cruelty they’ve wrought. And it’s all because of you.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Well, that’s flattering,” he said, his voice light, though his gaze remained serious.
Amanita smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “But I don’t think I can do it,” she admitted, her voice trembling with despair. “I want to, but every time I think about facing them... I feel like that scared little girl in the ballroom all over again.”
Alex crossed his arms, his voice firm. “Amanita, hiding in this attic isn’t going to change anything. The world doesn’t wait for you to feel ready—it moves forward, with or without you."
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Amanita turned away from him, staring out the dusty window. The mist-covered streets below seemed to mirror her turbulent emotions. “Out there?” she said bitterly. “You mean the same world that shackled me to this curse? The same world that abandoned me when I needed it most?” She turned back to him, her crimson eyes blazing with defiance. “You act like strength is all that matters. But what’s the point of fighting if it only leads to more pain?”
Alex leaned forward, his voice low but unwavering. “The point, Amanita, is survival. Pain is part of it—hells, it’s most of it—but it’s what you do with that pain that defines you. You can wallow in it, or you can turn it into something useful. The choice is yours.”
Amanita scoffed, hugging her knees tighter. “Useful? Is that what you think this is about? You see the world as black and white—fight or die, win or lose. But you don’t understand the weight of what I’ve lost. You don’t understand what it’s like to be me.”
Alex’s voice sharpened, frustration flickering beneath his calm demeanor. “I do. Don’t you dare think you’ve got a monopoly on pain, Amanita. I’ve lost people, too. I’ve faced things I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The difference is, I don’t let it define me. I fight because the world isn’t fair, and no one’s going to fix it for me.”
He paused, softening his tone slightly. “You’ve got a choice here: stay in this attic and let the world move on without you—or get up, and take back some of the power you think it’s stolen.”
Amanita fell silent, her gaze dropping to the floor. After a long pause, she whispered, “Do you ever feel it? The emptiness that comes after the fight? Like no matter how much you win, it’ll never fill the void?”
Alex moved closer, his expression softening. “Yeah, I do. But you know what? That void doesn’t scare me. What scares me is sitting around and doing nothing while the world falls apart. The void’s always going to be there, Amanita. What matters is what you do in spite of it.”
Amanita looked at him, vulnerability breaking through her guarded expression. “You make it sound so simple,” she said softly. “But nothing’s ever simple for me.”
“It doesn’t have to be simple,” Alex replied, offering her a faint, reassuring smirk. “It just has to be worth it.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Amanita nodded, a small spark of resolve lighting in her crimson eyes.
“Worth it,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re right.”
Alex leaned back, his smirk widening. “I usually am.”
A faint laugh escaped her lips, barely more than a whisper, but it was there. And for the first time in years, Amanita allowed herself to hope.
Alex froze as the world around him began to dissolve. Colors bled together, the air itself twisting and tearing until it all collapsed into a swirling vortex of blood. His breath caught as he was yanked into the maelstrom, his surroundings evaporating into crimson nothingness. When the whirlwind finally settled, he found himself standing in a vast, shadowed expanse.
A single silver light descended from above, barely piercing the oppressive darkness. It illuminated a towering figure that stood before him—a humanoid, yet monstrously alien. The being was at least three meters tall, its skin ashen-gray and creased with the wrinkles of an age that defied comprehension. It was utterly hairless, its hollow eyes glowing like molten rubies that seemed to peer straight into Alex’s soul.
When the figure smiled, it bared unnaturally large, predatory fangs. The sight sent a shiver down Alex’s spine. The air thickened, laced with an unearthly malice that made it difficult to breathe. Chains of iron, thick and barbed, were embedded into the creature’s flesh, hooking deeply into its body. Blood seeped from the wounds, a steady flow that pooled beneath it, creating a vast crimson lake at its feet.
The creature strained against its bindings, the chains groaning as if they were alive and suffering under its attempts to break free. Its movements were deliberate, but restrained. Every motion seemed to ripple with contained power, its presence both agonized and oppressive.
Then, its voice erupted—not from its mouth but directly into Alex’s mind. It was not one voice, but thousands, screaming in unison, their anguish overwhelming.
“Release me,” it commanded, the words vibrating in his very bones. The voice was a cacophony of rage, despair, and desperation—a thousand souls crying out for freedom in a single deafening roar.
Alex staggered, clutching his head as the voice reverberated through him. His heart raced, his body frozen in place. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.
“Alex…” Amanita’s voice broke through the haze, distant yet grounding. She had noticed his sudden stillness, her eyes filled with concern.
Alex turned to look at her, his expression tight as he forced himself to steady his breathing. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the overwhelming presence of the chained figure to recede.
“There’s another threat we need to deal with,” he muttered, his thoughts racing.
Taking a slow breath, Alex explained to Amanita what had just happened—that after absorbing a fraction of her blood, he had been pulled into some kind of vision, confronting the horrifying figure.
Amanita’s face grew serious as she listened, her lips tightening. She shook her head, visibly unnerved. “I… I’ve never heard of anything like this,” she admitted hesitantly. “But maybe Uncle Cazador knows...”
Alex gave a grim nod. “I’ll have to face him sooner or later,” he said. “But right now, there’s someone I need to save.”
Amanita’s crimson eyes met his. “Can I come with you?” she asked, her voice steady but insistent. “The sooner this is over, the better.”
Alex studied her for a moment, weighing her resolve, then nodded.
Without another word, he walked to the window, pushed it open, and stepped out. Amanita followed him without hesitation.
----------------------------------------
The warehouse Alex arrived at was a crumbling structure, its exterior cloaked in shadows. Broken windows and rusted metal panels gave it the appearance of long-abandonment, but Alex could sense the minds hidden within. They pulsed faintly in his awareness, like distant echoes.
“It looks empty,” Amanita said, her voice low.
“It’s not,” Alex replied, his tone certain.
Pushing open the creaking door, Alex stepped into the dark, musty interior. The warehouse was silent—too silent—but Alex’s mind brushed against the presence of multiple individuals concealed within. He focused on Jaheira’s mental signal, following her faint echoes through the gloom.
They moved through the debris-strewn warehouse until Alex’s gaze fell on a seemingly ordinary crate in the corner. Without hesitation, he pushed it aside, revealing a trapdoor beneath.
“This is it,” Alex said, lifting the heavy metal hatch. A wooden ladder extended downward into darkness. He glanced at Amanita, who gave him a firm nod, then descended first. She followed close behind, her movements silent as a shadow.
The ladder led into a vast, dimly lit underground chamber. Alex’s boots hit the ground with a dull thud as he surveyed the room. He saw familiar faces immediately—Jaheira stood at the center, her presence as commanding as ever. Beside her were Zevlor, Ellyka, and a few tiefling survivors he had encountered before.
His gaze shifted to the side, where Lae’zel was locked in a rare moment of unguarded emotion, her stern demeanor softened as she reunited with the young githyanki boy.
The group turned their attention to Alex as he stepped forward, Amanita trailing behind him like a shadow. Whispers passed between the tieflings as they noticed Amanita’s presence, her crimson eyes marking her as something unnatural.
Alex raised a hand in a brief greeting. “Hello, everyone,” he said, his tone calm but clipped. He had little time for pleasantries.
Jaheira approached him, her expression steady but laced with urgency. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said, gesturing for him to join her at the table where maps and documents were spread out. “I’ve briefed everyone on our next move. It won’t be easy, but we’ve formulated a plan.”
Before Alex could respond, Karlach’s voice rang out, her excitement impossible to miss. “Minsc! I can’t wait to meet him!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together like a giddy child. Her wide smile lit up the room, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips despite the weight on his shoulders.
Shadowheart cleared her throat, breaking the murmurs that filled the underground chamber. Her piercing gaze locked onto the hooded figure sitting quietly beside Alex. She folded her arms, her tone sharp yet laced with curiosity.
“Who’s this?” she asked, raising a brow. “Another stray you’ve picked up?”
Alex glanced at Amanita and then back at Shadowheart. “She’s Lady Incognita,” he said simply. “A friend.”
Before Shadowheart could respond, Astarion’s smooth, teasing voice cut through the tension. “A lady? Shadowheart, you take your eyes off him for one moment, and he already comes back with another woman—who’s just a friend, of course.”
The room rippled with a mix of chuckles and exasperation, but Amanita stiffened. Her crimson eyes flicked toward Astarion, narrowing slightly as she studied him. There was something about his voice… something familiar.
“Shut up, Astarion,” Karlach interjected, playfully jabbing him with her elbow.
“Ow! Have some restraint, woman,” Astarion whined dramatically, rubbing his ribs.
Then Amanita spoke, her voice hesitant but sharp. “Astarion?” Her eyes widened slightly, betraying her surprise.
The vampire grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Yes, darling. That’s my name.”
Amanita’s gaze darted to Alex, who gave her a subtle nod of confirmation. Slowly, she reached up and pulled back her hood, revealing her face in full—a flawless visage that was both beautiful and haunting, with alabaster skin and those piercing crimson eyes.
Astarion froze. For a moment, his usual smug composure shattered. His blue eyes widened as if he’d seen a ghost.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes as if to make sure they weren’t deceiving him. “Amanita?!”
Before anyone could process his reaction, Alex calmly waved his hand, unraveling the illusion cloaking Astarion’s true appearance. His pale, sharp features became starkly visible, his fangs catching the faint light.
Amanita’s demeanor changed instantly. Her hands moved with trained speed, pulling her crossbows free and aiming them directly at Astarion. Her voice was cold, commanding. “What is he doing here? Don’t you know he’s one of Cazador’s spawns?”
Astarion cleared his throat, regaining his composure with a flick of his hair. “Was,” he corrected smoothly. “I was his spawn. But thanks to Alex here, I’m no longer bound to that vile creature.”
Alex stepped forward, placing a steady hand over Amanita’s wrists. He pushed her crossbows down gently, his touch firm yet calming. “He’s telling the truth,” Alex said, his voice leaving no room for doubt.
Amanita hesitated, her crimson eyes darting between Alex and Astarion before she finally relented. With a tense breath, she holstered her crossbows.
Gale, who had been observing the exchange with growing intrigue, leaned forward, curiosity lighting up his features. “Forgive me, but… how do you two know each other?”
Astarion smirked, ever the opportunist for drama. “Oh, that’s simple,” he began, flourishing a hand as if telling a grand tale. “She’s Cazador’s niece.”
The words landed like a thunderclap.
“Cazador’s niece?” the group echoed in unison, their voices filled with disbelief.
“Oh, yes,” Astarion continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Locked away in the attic of his palace for a decade until she somehow managed to escape.” He chuckled darkly, his fangs glinting as he reminisced. “The look on Cazador’s face that night when he realized she’d vanished? Priceless.”
Amanita’s jaw tightened as she cast a wary glance around the room, her unease growing. Her hand instinctively sought Alex’s for reassurance, her fingers curling slightly around his.
Shadowheart’s eyes flicked to their joined hands, her expression darkening like a storm brewing on the horizon. She stiffened visibly, her lips pressing into a tight line. Without warning, she strode forward and hooked her arms around Alex’s, her grip firm and possessive.
“I’d prefer it if you kept your hands off my partner,” Shadowheart said, her voice dripping with venom. Her gaze bored into Amanita, leaving no room for ambiguity. “Alex and I are in a romantic relationship.”
Amanita’s hand snapped back as if burned. “I… I didn’t know,” she said quickly, her tone apologetic yet guarded.
Shadowheart gave a curt nod, her satisfaction palpable as she maintained her grip on Alex’s arm.
Alex let out a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother?” he muttered under his breath.
“Oh dear,” Astarion said, clutching his chest theatrically. “Our valiant hero faces his most perilous challenge yet—choosing between two radiant beauties vying for his affection.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying every second of the unfolding chaos.
Karlach, rolling her eyes, smacked the back of Astarion’s head hard enough to make him stumble forward. “Cut it out, Astarion. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”
But before the tension could fully dissipate, Lae’zel’s commanding voice cut through. “I propose they duel,” she said matter-of-factly. “The victor shall claim the right to mate with Alex.”
The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at her. Shadowheart and Amanita both froze, their jaws dropping.
“Mate?” they echoed in unison, their voices a mix of shock and indignation.
Alex turned to Lae’zel with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. She crossed her arms and smirked, clearly unfazed and enjoying the stir she’d caused.
“Don’t encourage them,” Alex said, his tone exasperated as he rubbed his temples. “I have enough on my plate without turning this into some absurd spectacle.”
Lae’zel shrugged, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “It would settle the matter efficiently.”
Alex rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “This is going to be a long day,” he muttered, earning a ripple of stifled laughter from the rest of the group.