To claim I merely loathe portal travel would not capture the full extent of my disdain. The ordeal of near-instant transport from one glaringly bright city to another is already more than enough, yet plunging into a world as dark and engulfing as the Underdark amplifies this aversion. Coupled with the unfortunate decision to indulge in wine beforehand—a choice that led to immediate regret—I was thrust with a jarring thud from the portal into complete darkness, my landing softened only by what felt like damp earth.
I hit the ground with such force that it knocked the breath from my lungs. I rolled to my side, gasping in a desperate attempt to breathe. A rising panic started to claw at me as the encompassing pitch blackness and the sound of my own labored breathing filled my ears, starkly reminiscent of the time I was confined in Cazador’s tomb. Terror constricted my chest, trapping me once again in the memory of that silent, dark crypt. Hot tears carved their way down my cheeks. "WAKE UP!" I screamed silently into the void of my mind. Forcing myself to inhale sharply, the cold, earthy air rushed into my lungs, a cruel yet welcome relief. I continued to draw in breath after breath, greedily filling my lungs as if they could never be full enough.
I felt a touch on my back, a gentle pat, and then calming sounds replaced the harshness of my labored breathing. “Open your eyes, Astarion. You’ve already remembered how to breathe; now, just open your eyes,” Lyra’s voice was soft, infused with kindness. Could it really be that simple? Had I clenched my eyes shut without realizing? I took a few more deep breaths before cautiously opening one eye, then the other. As my vision began to adjust, I could see the dim glow of the surrounding flora that illuminated the vast cavern around us.
“Take your time,” Lyra urged with gentle patience. “It was a rough landing for all of us. I think Gale is still recovering bent over some rocks, and Shadowheart lost consciousness for a moment.” I glanced around at the others; indeed, they all seemed battered by the ordeal. The gith looked unusually green, even for her, and Karlach was pacing back and forth, hands on her hips, occasionally stopping to bend over and catch her breath. Looking up at Lyra, I saw her face was etched with concern; she was slightly pale, and her forehead glistened with sweat.
I reached up and gently pushed aside a stray curl from Lyra's face, one that always seemed determined to be out of place. When she smiled, I returned it with one of my own, finding a moment of lightness amidst the discomfort.
“I don’t understand, traveling through a portal is, well, not always the most pleasant, but to affect everyone like this, is that normal?” I asked her.
“Aradia is infamous for holding grudges,” Halsin chimed in, his voice strained as he clutched his side. “She might seem sweet and helpful, but make no mistake, that woman has the makings of a true devil. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a hand in our rough landing.”
“Remind me, to steer clear of your past conquests in the future.” I grimaced slowly rising to my feet. As I regained my bearings, I took in the vast, shadowy expanse of the Underdark around us. This subterranean world was alive with bioluminescent flora that pierced the overwhelming darkness. The cavern spread out before us, punctuated by towering stalagmites and stalactites, conjuring an eerie and foreboding atmosphere. The gentle glow of mushrooms in hues of orange, red, and blue cast a soft light, illuminating the otherwise pitch-black environment.
The terrain was rugged and uneven, featuring winding pathways through dense clusters of glowing mushrooms and sharp rock formations. These ominous shadows and the muted light from the bioluminescence contributed to the aura of mystery and lurking dangers. As my eyes wandered, they caught sight of several small pools of water, each reflecting the eerie glow of the surrounding flora. I reminded myself to steer clear of these waters. The waters of the Underdark, especially notorious places like the Ebon Lake, were fraught with peril. Not only were they home to numerous deadly creatures, both known and unknown, but the waters were also rumored to sap magic, infuse toxins into one's bloodstream, or even gradually leech life away—a year of life lost for every minute spent in their treacherous embrace.
“I think we best find a place to call camp,” Halsin suggested, scanning the surroundings.
“While I was... ah, catching my bearings,” Gale winced, “I noticed what appears to be a storehouse to the west.” He pointed, and we slowly made our way to where Gale indicated. Indeed, some distance down the rocky path to the west, there seemed to be a building perched atop a cliff, with a pulley system extending from the cliff top to the ground below.
“That’s likely a Zhentarim storehouse,” Shadowheart commented, her face tightening.
“From here it looks pretty run-down,” Karlach squinted. “I don’t see any movement.”
“Well, either it's empty and we have a camp for the night, or…” Lyra shrugged, letting her sentence trail off ominously.
“Oh, darling, I don’t like that 'or' one bit,” I shook my head. Despite my apprehension, Lyra took a deep breath and began heading toward the storehouse, the others following suit. “Just once, can we go five minutes without the looming threat of death or, worse, heroics just around the corner?” I grumbled, trailing after the others.
We had trudged what seemed like miles before finally reaching the daunting cliff on which the dilapidated storehouse sat. Atop the cliff loomed a massive crane, once used to hoist food, goods, loot, and the more peculiar items associated with the Zhentarim to those in the know. Regrettably, the crane was now in ruins; something large had shattered its levers and severed the ropes, rendering the pulley system inoperable. To reach the top, we would need to find an alternative route.
"Over here," Karlach signaled, uncovering a cargo net expertly hidden against the cliff's rocky face, veiled behind a dense array of boulders and mushrooms. "The Zhents always have a contingency," she said with a knowing smile. The net stretched all the way to the cliff's crest, a clandestine route designed for rapid escapes or stealthy entries.
"Seriously? You expect me to scale this?" I groaned, inspecting my hands with exaggerated concern. "This is hardly suitable; I could break a nail."
"Stay down here with whatever lurks in the shadows, or come up and see what treasures await," Lyra countered casually.
"Using the prospect of loot as bait? Darling, I didn’t know you had it in you," I quipped back. Meanwhile, the Gith, impatient, had already started the ascent. Halsin transformed into a hawk and soared upward to scout, leaving us to the mercy of the netting. "A hawk, really? If only he'd turned into something larger, like an owlbear, he could have carried us to the top," I lamented, half-seriously. Lyra just rolled her eyes playfully and continued her climb.
Upon reaching the summit, we encountered the desolate remnants of the storehouse. The back door hung ajar, leading into utter darkness. Lyra glimpsed a torch on the wall; with a swift incantation of a fireball cantrip, she ignited it, casting a soft glow throughout the room. The scene inside was one of chaos and decay: crates and boxes lay shattered on the floor, their once valuable contents—fine clothes, jewelry, and small trinkets—now strewn about.
As we lit more torches and ventured deeper, the extent of the devastation became apparent. A violent skirmish had taken place here. Walls bore gaping holes from the impact of something colossal. Furniture was in disarray—tables overturned; chairs toppled. Several crates that had contained potions were smashed, their magical concoctions seeped into the ground, leaving nothing but stains and the faint scent of lost power.
The central chamber of the storehouse bore the scars of a desperate last stand. Makeshift barricades, now shattered and useless, hinted at the ferocity of the battle. It appeared that the defenders had been overwhelmed, ultimately fleeing down the hidden netting at the rear as their final escape route.
In preparation for the night, Lyra swept debris from around the fireplace and kindled a fire using the remnants of a broken chair. Meanwhile, the rest of us busied ourselves with clearing the area: we shifted tables aside, removed debris, and pushed aside the remnants of broken crates. This effort made just enough space to unroll our bedrolls and settle in for the night amidst the echoes of the past conflict.
As the others settled by the fire, I noticed Lyra slipping through an opening in the wall. Driven by curiosity, I followed her. I navigated through two devastated rooms to keep pace with Lyra. At the end of the second room, a large breach in the wall opened onto the rocky cliffside. I stepped through this rupture onto the cliff where the immense crane loomed nearby, a quiet guardian over the forsaken structure.
Lyra was near some railing, her gaze fixed on the expansive cavern stretching out before us. Her figure was strikingly outlined against the luminous backdrop of purple and blue mushrooms dotting the landscape. While the storehouse lay in quiet decay, the life of the Underdark persisted around us, marked by the intermittent sounds of creatures chattering and screeching in the darkness.
Lyra sighed softly, aware of my presence behind her. With a graceful motion, she gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder, revealing the delicate curve of her neck. I couldn’t help but smile at her subtle invitation and moved closer to her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I pulled her close, while my other hand slid under her arm to rest gently just below her neck. She reciprocated by wrapping her arms tightly around mine.
I planted a soft kiss on her shoulder, then traced my lips up her neck, pausing to kiss her again gently before allowing myself a sharper, more indulgent bite. Lyra tensed briefly under the surprise of the bite but soon relaxed back into my embrace. I knew I had to be mindful of how much blood I drew from her, despite the temptation. Her blood was intoxicating, a decadent complexity that added to the experience.
Though even a small taste was deeply satisfying, the desire to indulge further was overwhelming. With effort, I stifled the urge to take more, loosening my bite to replace it with another tender kiss. I held her closer, the moment filled with a tender intensity that was hard to let go.
Lyra's tension eased as she leaned into my support, her weight a gentle affirmation of her trust. Drawing blood, even with the utmost care, invariably left her weakened. She clung to my arms, a soft battle against the encroaching drowsiness.
"Relax, my sweet, I won’t let go," I whispered soothingly into her ear. A tender smile graced her lips, reflecting a serene acceptance as she surrendered to the moment, allowing herself time to regain her strength.
As her strength gradually returned, Lyra straightened within my embrace, her gaze lifting to meet mine, eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and gratitude.
"Are you sure you got enough?" she teased, a playful concern in her voice. "Today took a lot out of you."
"There's always room for more, darling," I replied with a light-hearted grin. "But really, I need you battle ready. I can't possibly continue to handle all our troubles alone," I added, feigning a grave tone.
“Oh yes, that would be reasonably terrible and exhausting on your part.” Lyra let out a soft chuckle. “I saved a couple of Gales star buns from this morning in my pack, I best get back, they are calling to me.”
After placing a gentle kiss on her forehead and whispering, "Clever girl," I slowly loosened my embrace, stepping back to give her space to rejoin our companions. Lyra paused, her hand tenderly caressing my face, a silent expression of connection before she turned away.
Once she disappeared, I faced the enveloping shadows. A chilling sensation crept from the crown of my head down to my toes, a stark contrast to the warmth I felt during our interaction. In the hushed whispers of the dark, my name echoed subtly, almost imperceptibly through the chasm. The call was unmistakable—the book, its presence ominous and alluring, beckoned to me. Shivering off the cold, I rejoined the group and prepared for the night. Somewhere within the expansive caverns of the Underdark, the book sensed my presence and yearned to be discovered.
As the night deepened into the early morning hours, sleep remained frustratingly out of reach. Restlessness disrupted my attempts at meditation, leading me to sigh in search of some solace. I shut my eyes once more, envisioning my deepest longing. Whether bathed in sunlight or moonlight, the specific setting mattered little if I was liberated from Cazador. Imagining myself in a sanctuary of my own, making choices freely without subservience to anyone, brought a sense of peace. Immersed in this tranquil meditation, I was soon joined by Lyra.
Strolling along a moonlit shoreline, waves whispering against her ankles, she was a vision in a silver dress that rivalled the luminance of the stars. Her smile radiated warmth, her eyes tender and soothing. As she drew near, she enveloped me in a tender hug. With one arm, I drew her closer, and with the other, I brushed away the silky black curls from her face. Lyra leaned in—and started sniffing my neck. My bewilderment grew as she persistently sniffed my face and shoulders. What in the nine hells was happening?
My eyes snapped open in sudden clarity—there was something nearby, sniffing eagerly for prey. Silently, I thanked the gods it was a real creature lurking about, and not some whimsical dream of Lyra mistaking me for an appetizer. However, my gratitude was short-lived; my heart sank when Karlach mouthed the words "cave troll." Fantastic, I thought grimly. Cave trolls, nearly blind but formidable brutes, shuffle about clumsily. Their indiscriminate appetites are akin to a garbage disposal, devouring anything within reach. Relying on their acute sense of smell to compensate for their lack of sight, it seemed this one had homed in on us, mistaking us for a delectable feast in its olfactory exploration. The chaos surrounding us likely had its origins in the disruptive presence of this very creature.
Lyra leaned in, her voice a hushed murmur, "You don’t happen to have any acid vials, do you?"
"No and thank the gods for that—I’m not getting anywhere near it," I whispered back, my nerves tingling. "Can’t you just use Acid Splash?"
Lyra exhaled a resigned sigh. "Looks like I’ll have to. Acid or fire—it’s the only way to stop its regeneration."
"This just keeps getting better," I muttered sarcastically.
"Maybe it'll just bugger off," Karlach chimed in hopefully, just as a thunderous crash vibrated through the walls outside our camp.
"I think it found its way inside," Gale deadpanned. The cave troll lumbered into the room, clumsily navigating the debris from the enlarged entrance it had created. Once it regained its balance, the creature stood tall, its presence imposing and threatening. Its thick, matted green fur was tangled with dirt and remnants of its last meal, adding to its wild appearance. The troll's lengthy limbs, tipped with razor-sharp claws, flexed menacingly as it surveyed the room. Its face was a horrific sight—dominated by a pronounced underbite and jagged, yellow teeth protruding outward. Its deep-set, glowing red eyes added a sinister depth to its ghastly visage. Sniffing the air, it locked onto our scent, a slow, menacing smile spreading across its face as drool began to drip from its maw.
"Frresssssshh meat," the troll hissed, lunging towards Karlach with a ferocious speed. Karlach reacted with swift precision, hoisting her two-handed axe to intercept the creature’s snapping jaws, which clamped down on the weapon's handle. She shoved it back just in time to dodge its claws swiping first from the left, then the right. Seizing the moment, Gale unleashed a fireball at the troll, striking it squarely. The beast roared in pain and fury, its attention now fixed menacingly on Gale.
In a swift motion, the Gith warrior vaulted onto the troll's back, driving her blade deep into its shoulder. With a violent thrash, the troll dislodged her, sending her tumbling to the ground. It then yanked the blade from its flesh, snapping it in half. The creature's wound began to close almost immediately, its regenerative powers at work. Lyra advanced, casting Acid Splash. A surge of thick, green acid enveloped the troll, effectively halting the healing process at its back. This strategic move was overshadowed by the sudden burst of green light emanating from Lyra, casting an eerie glow over the room.
Before I knew what was happening, I felt an irresistible pull towards a piece of string dangling from an overturned chair nearby. I scampered over and began batting at it with... paws! As the bizarre reality dawned on me, I took in the chaos unfolding around the room. Lyra, in a twist of wild magic, had cast "Cats and Dogs," transforming our group—and the troll—into an assortment of household pets. I found myself sleek and regal as a white Persian cat, while Karlach wagged joyously, now a golden retriever. Shadowheart prowled as a stately black lab, and the Gith had the sleek look of a Siamese cat. Gale, ever the unfortunate, peeked out from behind a crate, his new form a rather dismayed hairless cat.
Across the room, the troll, now a tiny but fiercely determined Chihuahua, seemed as perplexed as the rest of us. Lyra was a stunning black cat, with her back arched and hissing at the troll turned chihuahua. The room was a pandemonium of growling cats and boisterously barking dogs. Karlach, embracing her new canine persona, pranced around with a large broken chair leg in her mouth. The troll-chihuahua snapped irritably at anyone who dared come close. Halsin, now a tabby, was thoroughly captivated by a dancing light on the floor, attempting agile pounces.
As I sat grooming myself in true feline fashion, a few meticulous licks later, I noticed something startling. My paw—returning to human hand! The enchantment was fading. One by one, everyone morphed back into their original forms. The troll, momentarily bewildered, regained its monstrous composure and erupted into a howl, charging around the room with renewed ferocity.
As the melee escalated, Gale took a cue from Lyra and hurled another Acid Splash at the troll, while Karlach skillfully diverted its wrath toward herself. Despite the troll's ferocious attempts to claw and bite, it managed to graze Karlach only occasionally. Thanks to Shadowheart’s timely healing spells she managed to mitigate the damage. Meanwhile, the Gith and I prepared our offensive, dipping arrows into the fire roaring in our fireplace and launching a steady barrage at our adversary. Halsin transformed into his bear form, delivering powerful swipes that, together with Karlach, captivated the troll's attention and intensified the onslaught.
As the battle intensified, the troll seized the upper hand. It caught Karlach off guard, viciously grasping her arm. While this initially seemed like an advantage, the troll quickly learned its error as the fiery heat emanating from Karlach's skin scorched its claws to the bone. Enraged, the troll retaliated by kicking Karlach with such force that she was sent crashing through a wall. Halsin attempted to intervene, but the agile troll dodged and counterattacked, sinking its teeth into Halsin’s shoulder. Despite Halsin's fierce struggles, which sent him crashing around the room, the troll was eventually flung directly at Gale.
Nimbly, Gale blinked forward, narrowly avoiding the hurtling troll. Amidst the chaos, the gith warrior roared in frustration, having depleted her quiver. As she charged at the troll, weapon held high, she was abruptly knocked back by a firm swipe of the troll’s arm, colliding with Halsin. Amidst the chaos, I launched my final arrow, which embedded itself in the troll's neck. Rather than succumbing, this attack seemed to incite the beast further. The cave troll tore the arrow out, snapped it effortlessly, and roared thunderously, its eyes blazing with primal rage. It charged at me with renewed ferocity. Trapped, my back against the cold, unyielding wall, I frantically searched my surroundings for an escape, only to realize with a sinking heart—there was none. As the monstrous figure loomed closer, escape routes dwindled to nothing.
With boldness, Lyra stepped forward and expertly cast Hold Monster. Instantly, the troll was immobilized, mere seconds before its claws reached my face, its rage confined to impotent growls and piercing screeches as it remained frozen in place, caught in Lyra’s magical grasp.
"Ready yourself for the final acid splash on my command, Gale," Lyra bellowed, her voice resonating with authority. She braced herself, focusing intently as she prepared to unleash her most formidable spell yet. I quickly positioned myself behind her, steering clear of the ensnared troll that was momentarily incapacitated. "Now!" Lyra's command cut sharply through the air. Gale acted instantly, casting his final Acid Splash breaking the troll from the hold, while Lyra channeled her energy for the decisive final strike. In a spectacular display, she executed Dragon's Breath, a spell as fascinating as it was lethal. A torrent of flames burst from Lyra's lips, enveloping the troll in a fiery inferno. The lethal combination of acid and flame overwhelmed the creature, which collapsed into a smoldering heap, marking a resounding victory in the battle.
Reeling from the intense strain of casting Dragon's Breath, Lyra staggered, pain etched across her features. Halsin was swift to respond, invoking Healing Word to alleviate her suffering. As the healing spell took effect, it was evident that Lyra faced a few arduous hours of recovery ahead.
"We must ensure her comfort," Halsin stated as he carefully assisted Lyra to a bedroll. "We also need to remain vigilant. Cave trolls often wander solo, but we can't take any risks while she's this vulnerable." Shadowheart promptly attended to both Halsin and Karlach, treating their injuries. After having her wounds seen too, Karlach joined the Gith to guard the entrance. Meanwhile, Gale and Shadowheart took positions by the rear exit, ready to rest yet stay alert. Committed to safety, Halsin dragged the troll's charred remains to the cliff edge and hurled it down, eliminating any lure for scavengers. I settled beside Lyra, gently sweeping her hair back from her forehead. Tears glistened on her cheeks, while the blisters around her mouth began gradually healing.
"Cats and dogs, darling, really?" I teased with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I must admit, I do make a rather stunning cat, don't you think?" Lyra managed a wince, the pain too intense for her to respond to my jest. "Rest, my sweet, once again you've saved us—not just from the beast, but from your own chaos as well. Dawn is approaching...or, well, whatever passes for dawn in the Underdark," I mused, half to myself. "Whatever resembles dawn isn't too far off, and we have a long journey ahead." As I finished, Lyra gripped my hand tightly. It was a grasp heavy with pain but also filled with a silent gratitude, her way of acknowledging the levity and care amidst her discomfort.
She closed her eyes, attempting to rest. Watching her shudder through the pain, I was drawn back to the battle. The troll was mere seconds from delivering a fatal blow to me, but Lyra intervened. She had every reason to let the troll finish me—less burden, one fewer afflicted soul to heal. Yet, she chose differently. With resolute courage, she faced the beast, unleashing a potent and perilous spell that neutralized the threat to my life. A fleeting smile crossed my face; Lyra had shown she would protect me, regardless of the personal cost. Cazador’s days were numbered.
As I observed Lyra over the next few hours, the healing spell's limited success became increasingly apparent. While a few blisters showed signs of healing, others remained as severe as when they first appeared. Lyra was visibly suffering, her cheeks wet with tears and her forehead beaded with sweat. Halsin paced anxiously, frequently pausing to assess her condition and scratch his chin thoughtfully.
"Is it normal for healing to take this long?" I asked, my voice laden with concern as I watched Halsin's restless movements.
He paused his pacing and knelt beside Lyra, placing a hand on her forehead and closing his eyes. A bright yellow light glowed from his palm, but his expression grew tense as the light eventually faded. He shook his head slightly.
"I'm sorry, my child, but this is going to hurt," he murmured to Lyra gently. Positioning one hand under her chin and the other on her forehead, he gently pulled in opposite directions, causing Lyra's mouth to open wide. The full extent of her injuries was horrifyingly clear. As he manipulated her mouth, Lyra's body convulsed in pain, tears streaming down her face. The inside of her mouth and throat were lined with severe burns, blistered and raw from the fire.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Releasing her, Halsin wiped away her tears, murmuring soothingly, "There, there, my child." Halsin looked up at me. "Gather the others," Halsin commanded. Nodding, I hastily assembled everyone back in the room, struggling to mask the panic that threatened to overtake me. Lyra's survival was crucial—not merely because she was an indispensable ally against Cazador, but because my plans had been unfolding flawlessly so far. Losing her now would jeopardize my best shot at defeating him.
As I calculated the urgency of the situation, a subtle voice in the back of my mind suggested my concern was not solely strategic. It was a quiet whisper, barely audible against the cacophony of my tactical thoughts, suggesting that my feelings for Lyra extended beyond mere alliance. Yet, like a faint sound lost in a symphony, I ignored its subtle plea, focusing instead on the immediate needs of our situation.
"Whoa, Mate, she's gonna be okay, yeah?" Karlach's voice carried a note of genuine concern as she looked on, her expression troubled.
"She should have healed by now," Gale remarked, his tone growing increasingly grave as he watched Lyra's condition.
"The burns are far more severe than I initially assessed," Halsin admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I should have examined her more thoroughly; Dragon's Breath is a potent and hazardous spell, effective as we've seen against the cave troll. Unfortunately, the level of damage she has sustained is beyond what our current healing abilities can manage."
"What are you saying?" I demanded, frustration boiling over. "That you can't heal her?"
"That's correct, it's beyond what we can currently manage," Halsin confirmed, casting a glance at Shadowheart who nodded her silent agreement. "However, we're not out of options yet. Earlier, while scouting, I noticed signs of a Myconid colony nearby. Known for their exceptional skills in alchemy and healing, they might help us. Of course, their aid usually comes with a price, often a favor of some sort."
"Gods, I hope it's not another past lover of yours," I muttered sarcastically.
Ignoring my remark, Halsin addressed the group, "We need to figure out how to transport her down the cliff. She's far too weak to climb on her own."
Karlach hastily suggested, "OH! I could carry—shit, we're trying to save her from burns, not give her more," she quickly reprimanded herself.
Gale, stroking his chin thoughtfully, turned to Halsin. "Halsin, could you transform into a hawk again?" he inquired with a hint of curiosity.
"Yes, but she would be too heavy for me to carry in that form," Halsin responded, shaking his head dismissively.
"Right, but if I could, gently of course, take two of your feathers, I could cast 'fly' on Lyra and one other," Gale explained. He continued, "Lyra wouldn’t be able to fly on her own, but if I cast 'fly' on someone to guide her, we should have just enough time to get to the bottom before the spell expires."
"My feathers are yours," Halsin replied with a grin. "Who shall fly…"
"It will be me," I declared, cutting through the silence. As the words left my mouth, all eyes swiveled to me, their expressions a tapestry of surprise and skepticism." What, trust you lot to not drop our most valuable ally? I’d rather not take that chance thank you."
"As you say, Astarion," Gale acknowledged with a brief smile. "Shall we?" Gale asked, looking to Halsin. Upon receiving a nod, Halsin transformed into a hawk, and Gale delicately extracted two feathers. He thanked Halsin with a nod and then addressed the group, organizing the next steps with precision. "I need to focus entirely on casting this spell. Karlach, please stay with me to ensure nothing disrupts my concentration. Everyone else, make your way down the cliff first. That way, if anything goes awry, we'll be in a better position to handle the situation quickly and safely."
As the others took their positions, I gently knelt beside Lyra, carefully brushing the hair away from her face. "Darling, you're going to need to hold onto me as tightly as you can, just for a little while. Can you do that for me, my sweet?" Lyra blinked twice in response. “I will take that as a yes.” I smiled. I Gently lifted her arms and draped them around my neck. Then, with careful movements, I supported her up to her feet. Slightly bending, I lifted her, feeling her legs wrap securely around my waist. I could feel her tears, warm and steady, trickling down my neck.
I hurried to the cliff's edge while Karlach kept a vigilant watch on Gale and the area from the doorway. Gale stepped up beside me, urgency evident in his voice.
"You won't have much time, Astarion," he warned. "Given her pain, she won't be able to control her movements, so you'll need to hold her very securely or we risk her slipping. I'll be too far to cast feather fall in time to save either of you."
"Understood, just cast the spell before she loses any more strength," I replied tersely.
Gale clasped the feathers in his right hand and laid his left on my shoulder, his fingertips reaching up to touch Lyra’s arm that was wrapped around my neck. "Alta Volare!" he shouted the incantation. Instantly, the sensation of weightlessness overcame me as our feet lifted off the ground, and Lyra moved in sync with me. Clutching her tightly, I propelled us off the cliff. We soared downward at a brisk pace, the wind rushing around us. Despite her efforts, Lyra struggled to maintain her grip, her body rebelling against her intentions due to the pain. I tightened my hold, reassuring her with encouraging words, "Hold on, we're nearly there."
As we hurtled toward the ground, I made every effort to control our speed, pulling back to ensure a soft landing. However, just as the ground neared, I sensed Lyra's grip weakening; she was reaching her limit. The moment my feet touched the ground, I fought to keep us upright, determined not to let her take the brunt of the impact if we faltered.
In my concentration on maintaining balance, I initially missed the looming presence directly ahead. It was Halsin, who had transformed into his bear form. With arms outstretched, he enveloped us in a massive, steadying embrace just as Lyra's strength gave out and we began to stumble. His timely intervention prevented what could have been a harsh crash, securing us safely with his formidable strength.
I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded at Halsin as I pulled away from his bear hug. Lyra's legs began to weaken further, her remaining strength ebbing away. I gently set her down to adjust her position, then scooped her back into my arms, cradling her carefully.
"Halsin thought Lyra might be able to ride on his back if he stayed a bear all the way to the Myconids, but I doubt she could cling to his fur in her state," Shadowheart remarked, her face pinched with concern.
I turned to Halsin with a playful grin. "You're a big, strong bear; think you can carry two of us?" I raised an eyebrow teasingly. Before Halsin could offer a gruff reply, I quickly added, "On my honor, it’s just to help Lyra." Halsin responded with a series of growls that seemed quite un-druid-like, but the pained expression on Lyra’s face, her eyes dull and weary, softened his stance. With a reluctant growl, he lowered himself to the ground.
Carefully, I positioned Lyra on his back, her legs hanging to one side, and then swung my leg over to sit behind her. Clutching Halsin’s fur with one hand for balance, I held Lyra securely with the other. Whispering reassurances into her ear, I told her it wouldn't be long. Gale and Karlach quickly joined us, and together, our group set off toward the Myconid colony, with Lyra firmly in my protective embrace. I was determined to see her healed, no matter what it took.
Present Day...
I set my wine back on the table beside me, the image of Lyra in agony causing both my heart and stomach to ache. Normally, her chaotic magic would make her hesitate, a moment of doubt shadowing her abilities. But when a furious troll nearly ended my life, she acted without a flicker of hesitation. There was no pause, no second-guessing; she threw herself into the danger with no regard for the consequences. To her, nothing mattered more than ensuring my safety.
I recoiled at my own reflection, disgusted by the way I had exploited her steadfast willingness to protect me. I saw her devotion not as a gift, but as proof of my successful manipulation of her emotions. Even more reprehensible was my willingness, at that moment, to let her sacrifice herself to Cazador if it meant saving my own skin. How could I have been so callously indifferent? The faint voice within me, the one that recognized my growing care for Lyra, was drowned out by my overwhelming self-interest. At that time, I was irredeemably consumed by my own survival.
As my disgust deepened, eclipsing even my physical pain, I drained the tankard of wine and refilled it from the open bottle. I uncorked another, letting it breathe, before taking a measured sip and leaning back in my chair, attempting once more to find some semblance of relaxation. It was no wonder I struggled with empathy, care, selflessness, and love—Cazador had deprived me of these lessons. His reign over my life had been a relentless saga of terror, pain, suffering, and unfathomable cruelty. More than that, he had obliterated every tender memory from the life I led before his dark shadow fell upon it.
While Cazador epitomized the darkest abyss of terror, Lyra radiated a light of pure, innocent brilliance. In the tumultuous world that surrounded us, she shone like a beacon of hope and stability. The thought of her brought a smile to my face; indeed, she was a whirlwind of chaos, but it was a benevolent storm. Unlike the destructive force of Cazador, her presence didn't bring devastation but bestowed upon me freedom and love. With her, I found a sanctuary of safety—I only wished I had realized it sooner.
Weeks earlier...
As we cautiously approached the Myconid colony, aware of their penchant for harmony yet readiness to defend their tranquil way of life, the sight before us was unexpectedly striking. Never had I witnessed a flourishing Myconid colony in person, and the sprawling subterranean village that unfolded before our eyes was truly a marvel. Illuminated by a soft, otherworldly glow from bioluminescent fungi and flora, the village was a vision of ethereal beauty. Dominated by colossal mushroom caps in hues of deep blues and vibrant purples, these natural giants served as the foundation for the Myconids' homes.
Intricately integrated into the stalks of enormous mushrooms, the homes of the Myconid colony were masterfully crafted from a blend of fungal fibers and mineral deposits. This architecture bestowed upon the structures a unique, organic resilience, seamlessly blending ancient traditions with perfect adaptation to their subterranean habitat. Each abode featured round, window-like apertures covered with translucent membranes, casting a soft, eerie glow that pierced the seemingly foggy air—an illusion, as the air was thick with communicative spores that intertwined with our thoughts with each breath.
The village floor was plush with a carpet of moss and diminutive fungi, casting a faint glow that marked paths winding through the settlement. Our exploration led us to a significant, communal spore mound—a sacred site for the Myconids. Here, they congregated for melding ceremonies and healing rituals, the mound itself encircled by luminescent plants and smaller fungi, enhancing the mystical aura of the place. Nearby stood essential structures like nurseries for the young and cultivation areas for their sustenance.
Enveloping the village were towering Sussur trees with serpentine roots, their white trunks sheathed in glowing lichens and mosses. Suspended from these trees were giant blue blossoms that attracted and absorbed magic, nourishing the trees. The Myconids had strategically built their homes at a safe distance from these potent trees, yet close enough to benefit from their ability to devour magic. Scattered throughout the village, hanging from larger mushrooms, were crystal formations in shades of green, blue, and purple. These crystals caught the subtle light, casting captivating patterns that animated the village landscape.
Amidst this backdrop of serene harmony, the Myconids moved silently, engaged in tending their fungal gardens and communicating through their unique, spore-based language. The atmosphere was cool and moist, filled with the earthy scent of moss and the soft, whisper-like rustling of spore dispersal. As we paused, the Myconids momentarily ceased their activities, their curious silence enveloping us as they observed our presence with quiet fascination.
Feeling Halsin's subtle cue to revert to his druid form, I carefully dismounted, gently lifting Lyra into my arms to carry her the remainder of our journey. As Halsin transformed, he stretched his limbs, reacquainting himself with his natural shape.
"Just past the central mound, we should find the sovereign's dwelling," Halsin said, pointing ahead. He paused, his expression tightening. "Something feels off. Myconids are normally welcoming, but their response today is unusually reserved. We need to proceed with caution." As we moved in the direction Halsin had indicated, a deep, resonant voice suddenly filled our minds.
"State your business here, outsiders," the voice boomed, its timbre vibrating inside our thoughts. "Umbralshade is a sanctuary of peace; we tolerate no violence."
"I am Halsin, Arch Druid and friend to nature," Halsin replied, his voice calm and soothing. "Our companion is gravely ill. We seek only your aid and mean no harm to your community." A heavy silence fell upon us, the atmosphere tense as if the very air awaited the Myconids' judgment.
After a lingering pause, the voice returned, still imbued with a note of suspicion. "Very well, so-called friend of nature, I am Sovereign Tramatis the Protector," it echoed back. "Approach, and we shall discuss the terms of our aid."
The throne room of Tramatis was nestled within a colossal mushroom stalk, reached by a winding ascent on mushroom caps that served as an organic staircase. At the summit, the throne itself—a majestic creation—was crafted from the trunk and roots of a Sussur tree. These roots intricately twisted and weaved through the structure of the chair, making it not only a seat of power but a living piece of art.
The throne commanded attention, surrounded by vibrant mushrooms in hues of pink, orange, and blue, each shimmering like precious gemstones. These fungi emitted a soft, pulsating glow that illuminated the darkened space. The walls of the stalk were draped with bioluminescent moss that climbed up to the ceiling, each pulse of light seeming to breathe life into the room. Entwining the throne, Azure tendrilvines added a splash of vivid blue, their thick vines sculpting themselves into sturdy armrests, while their bold leaves unfurled with regal grace.
Seated upon his throne, Tramatis the Protector loomed as a sovereign figure, crafted entirely from the earth itself. His form, though humanoid, was an intricate composition of organic, mushroom-like elements that defined his regal and imposing stature. The crown of his head boasted an array of large, bulbous caps, their vibrant greens interspersed with speckles of gold-hued yellow that shimmered like precious minerals, pulsating softly as if broadcasting his royal decrees and thoughts.
The texture of Tramatis' skin was a living mosaic of mossy greens interwoven with deep earthy browns, echoing the fibrous essence of mushroom stalks that stood sentinel throughout his domain. Veins of bright green, glowing softly with bioluminescent light, traced paths across his body, illuminating him in the dimness of his throne room. His limbs, gracefully elongated, terminated in flared, leaf-like appendages, which now rippled gently over the armrests of his throne—a silent testament to his contemplative nature.
As Tramatis surveyed us, his royal aura seemed to fill the shadowed expanses of his fungal palace, reinforcing his sovereign command over this twilight realm. His integration with the darkened environment highlighted not merely a ruler, but a monarch who embodied the essence of protection and strength, fully personifying the title, Protector of the Myconids. Tramatis fixed his gaze upon us a moment longer before leaning forward decisively.
"Bring her to me," his voice echoed in my mind, a gentle yet commanding whisper that stirred the air itself. I paused momentarily before advancing with Lyra. Tramatis waited patiently as I positioned her gently on the soft, mossy floor of the throne room. I glanced at Halsin, who gave a reassuring nod. As I set Lyra down, Tramatis tilted his head thoughtfully, his eyes penetrating, then stood to examine her closely. He extended a hand-like appendage, placing it on Lyra’s forehead with a deliberate grace. His head bowed slightly, causing spores to cascade from the verdant, bulbous caps atop his head, enveloping Lyra in a misty embrace. My protest began to form, but Tramatis’ soothing voice filled my mind once more.
"Peace, child. These spores are merely to keep her comfortable for now. Dragons’ breath is not an easy cure," he assured with a voice as melodious as a lullaby, urging calmness with his serene tones.
"You can cure her, can you not?" Halsin pressed Tramatis with urgency.
"Yes, but the price will be steep," Tramatis conveyed through our minds, his tone somber. "She requires a potion of supreme healing."
"There must be another way!" Halsin protested. "We cannot afford to wait weeks for it to be brewed." Tramatis returned to his throne, his gaze sweeping over each of us before resting again on Halsin.
"Fortune favors you today," Tramatis began, his voice heavy with a mix of relief and underlying anger. "My Mosswhisper Shamans have just completed a batch of such potions." He paused, his voice hardening, "It is the very reason I am in need of your assistance. In exchange for your aid to my village, I will save your friend."
"Name your price," I said, resolved to meet whatever demands he set forth.
Tramatis fixed his eyes on me, his expression intense. "A group of adventurers recently raided our storehouses, targeting this potion and others far more precious." His voice grew thick with fury. "They masqueraded as allies and murdered many of my people, including our young sporelings. Lives, innocent and serene, were extinguished for mere trinkets." He bowed his head, and a profound sense of mourning filled the room. The loss was recent, the wounds raw and deep.
After a moment, Tramatis lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine with a piercing gaze. "Track down these traitorous adventurers who fled like cowards, and exact vengeance for our slain. Bring me their leader." His command was not just a request—it was a plea for justice, woven with the deep sorrow of his people.
"What about Lyra?" I protested. "She may not survive the delay while we chase after a band of unknowns. The Underdark is vast, we don't even know where to start looking."
"She will be stable and protected, as long as you move swiftly," Tramatis responded with firm assurance.
"But to leave her here, while we chase shadows—" I argued, my frustration mounting.
"I will remain with her," Halsin interjected, stepping forward resolutely. "I'll support her with minor healing and utilize the suspension spores Tramatis provided. I promise, Astarion, she'll be in safe hands." Tramatis nodded, acknowledging Halsin's commitment, then his gaze shifted back to me.
"They sought to cross the Ebon Lake in an attempt to reach the lost city. Our spoils were to provide payment for their passage across the Lake. Head east to the lake shores, and do so with urgency," Tramatis instructed, pointing towards the exit. Meanwhile, Halsin knelt beside Lyra, soothing her brow. Lyra's eyes flickered open, meeting mine as she blinked twice in a slow, knowing way.
"I'll take that as a yes, darling," I smiled back at her, a mix of tenderness and determination in my gaze. "Let’s go, were wasting time already." Turning, I led our party down the steps. The descent was cloaked in silence, each step fueling my resolve. Those responsible would soon find their marauding days brought to a swift end. As we ventured deeper into the Underdark, the echoes of my name grew louder and more insistent. The book, too, seemed to sense my approach, its calls becoming increasingly desperate and urgent, as if longing for me to find it.
The journey to Ebon Lake from Umbralshade took us down a labyrinth of serpentine paths, burrowing ever deeper underground. With each step, the environment and its inhabitants became increasingly bizarre and fascinating. Above us, Mandibats flitted with a persistent buzz, while Bone Striders navigated their silken webs, their orange eyes flicking with curiosity as they observed our passage. The path was dimly illuminated by an array of strangely glowing crystals in a kaleidoscope of colors, lending an eerie quality to the surroundings, reminiscent of the ocean's depths, though devoid of saltwater's embrace. Approaching the lake, we could just make out the soft lapping of waves against gravel—a sound that, oddly, remained faint, no matter how close we got. The Ebon Lake lay just ahead, enveloping the silence of a vast, still body of water.
Gale was the first to disrupt the silence, clearing his throat. "I don't wish to come across as overly anxious, but do we have a precise plan? We can't simply walk up to this band of miscreants and announce, 'Apologies, gentlemen, but our friend requires healing, and it seems you're the unfortunate price for her cure. Perhaps consider a more cautious approach when you ransack and pillage innocent villages next time.'"
“Can’t we?” I replied with heavy sarcasm. “I had just planned to wing it, but your method does have a certain charm.”
Gale rolled his eyes, muttering, "For the love of Mystra."
Before Gale could protest further, he was interrupted by loud shouting. As the distant shouts pierced the silence, we were drawn toward a decrepit village that seemed frozen in time. At its entrance, a flag made of the blackest fabric flew—a gold circle with a white-embroidered flying wyrm at its center, marking it as a Zhentarim outpost. The village was a ghostly shadow perched on the edge of the Ebon Lake. We traced the shouts along a path winding through an alley lined with crumbling stone buildings, their roofs mostly caved in and walls battered by the relentless passage of time. Behind these structures, moss-covered stalagmites twisted upward toward the cavern's ceiling, their eerie forms casting dark, shifting shadows across the cracked stone pathway.
The oppressive gloom was intermittently shattered by a sinister, reddish glow emanating from the village's far end, guiding us ominously toward the shore. This spectral light, radiating from lanterns by the shore, draped the derelict buildings in a haunting crimson, intensifying the already growing sense of foreboding building in the pit of my stomach.
Reaching the village's heart, we took a path that veered left toward the docks—large, wooden platforms extending into the dark, still waters of the lake. The planks, darkened and slick with algae, bore the weight of transport boats that bobbed softly on the lake's surface. The air hung thick with the scent of decay and moist earth, a testament to a place long abandoned by hope, now repurposed for dark dealings by the Zhentarim.
"Right, I've already told you lot, what the toll is for crossing the lake," a formidable dwarf declared, his arms firmly crossed over his chest. "No coin, no crossing!" His face, deeply etched with the marks of a harsh life, held a look of resolute determination. Deep-set eyes, shadowed by thick, bushy eyebrows, bore intensely into the adventurers before him.
"Gods damn it, listen here mate..." the leader of the adventurers, Reynfred, retorted loudly.
"You must be confused, wee pup; you'll find no mates here," the dwarf shot back sharply.
"Ahh Reyn, is... um, is it really wise to shout at... well, him?" a small gnome chimed in timidly, his gaze fixed on the dwarf trader.
"No one asked you, Perci, shut it," Reynfred snapped at the gnome, then turned back to the dwarf. "We've given everything we had, plus what we pilfered from the Myconids. I've lost two of my men; surely that merits a discount. Or can your kind not do simple math?" Reynfred scowled fiercely.
"Reyn!" Dryke a rather tall, bulky human hissed, nudging him.
"The rate stands at 1000 gold per head, and you have seven heads, lad—unless you'd prefer, I reduce the count to six," the dwarf replied, unyielding. Seizing the moment, I stepped forward to address the dwarf.
"Does your rate apply to any crossing of the lake?" I inquired.
"And who the fuck might you be mate?" Reynfred turned on me sharply.
"Quiet, child, the adults are speaking," I dismissed him casually. A slight grin broke on the dwarf's stern face as he turned to me.
"The price is 1000 coins each. This lots already paid 5000 coins; I couldn't care less whose arse fills the seats, as long as it's paid for."
"We've already paid more than half. You think you can just stroll in and snatch our seats; you prick?" Reynfred advanced toward me, his anger flaring.
"Actually, I plan on killing your crew, taking your cowardly self to Umbralshade where a delightfully angry sovereign awaits you. Meanwhile, I’ll be holding onto your coin as a guarantee to keep the boat docked here until I can return with the remainder of my party and the necessary funds for our passage," I explained to Reynfred, a smile playing at my lips. "Of course, that's if our esteemed Zhentarim boat master here agrees."
The dwarf relaxed his posture, bringing a hand thoughtfully to stroke his magnificent beard—a well-kept, elaborate cascade of silvery-grey braids that flowed down to his chest. After a moment of contemplation, he shrugged. "The boat departs in three hours. It has room for seven passengers; five spots have already been paid for. As I've said, I'm indifferent to whose arse occupies those seats, as long as they're paid for."
Reynfred's expression hardened, his words hissing through clenched teeth, “Over my dead body will you take our seats!”
My gaze grew intense, and a piercing smile played on my lips, “My dear boy, that is rather the point.” As the last word left my lips, a faint whisper of air brushed past my ear, culminating in a solid thud as the Gith's dagger embedded itself in its target. Dryke's eyes were wide with confusion as he fell to the ground, the Gith’s dagger planted firmly between his eyes. I looked at the Gith, my eyebrow arching in surprise.
She shrugged at me “Did you have more to say? Or can we commence with the battle, my blades grow impatient.”
I turned back to Reynfred and shrugged lightly, "She has a point." Reynfred's eyes flared, first with disbelief, then with burning anger. He surged forward, his attack as graceless as a cat in water, swinging his mace wildly. I flowed around him easily, stepping aside and circling to his back as he overreached and stumbled. Wrapping him in an iron embrace, I held him tight, inhaling the sharp, sweet scent of his fear—it was like the heady aroma of a freshly corked bottle of wine. My instincts surged, and I sank my fangs into him, tasting the sweet rush of victory as it flooded my senses. True, we needed him alive, but Tramatis hadn’t specified I couldn’t savor a moment of indulgence before delivering this cowardly soul back to him.
“I propose a strategic retreat!” Perci announced, eyeing the rest of their party for support. Ezabell, the half-elf cleric, nodded in agreement, clearly ready to flee and live to fight another day.
“There’s no running yet—where’s your sense of adventure, lads!” Amaury, the human warrior, countered with a booming voice. He threw his arms wide and let out a fierce battle cry. Jehan, a human rogue, and Cole, a gnome ranger, exchanged a quick, bemused glance before shrugging and echoing Amaury’s spirited roar.
Karlach, priming herself for combat, cracked her knuckles, twisted her neck, and shrugged her shoulders forward with a menacing grin. She charged at Amaury like a storm unleashed, sweeping him momentarily off his feet. Regaining his balance with a stout laugh, Amaury sprang back into the fray, lunging at Karlach with the grace of a seasoned duelist. Their clash unfolded like a dance of steel and shadows, each maneuvering with expert precision, their strikes and counterstrikes weaving a tapestry of combat.
As Perci and Ezabell positioned themselves at the edge of the Ebon Lake, readying to support their allies with healing and offensive spells, Gale saw his moment. With tactical precision, he blinked forward, materializing suddenly in front of the duo. Stunned by his sudden appearance, Perci and Ezabell could only stare as their fate quickly unfolded. In a swift, decisive move, Gale drew his arms to his chest then thrust them outward, the air around him crackling as he bellowed, "Tonitribus!" The spell's thunderous boom echoed across the lake, and his Thunderwave sent Perci and Ezabell spiraling into the murky waters. A brief splash disrupted the lake's stillness before it swallowed them whole, returning to its eerie calm.
With their healer out of play, Amaury was quickly overpowered and finished by Karlach, whose years as an enforcer in the nine hells' blood wars had honed her into a frightening opponent. Meanwhile, Cole, in a flustered attempt to fend off advances, loosed arrows wildly at our party—his aim as poor as a drunkard throwing darts. Realizing his precarious situation with the Gith rapidly closing in, Cole didn't hesitate; he turned tail and sprinted into the shadowy embrace of the Underdark.
“Again! You bloody coward!” Jehan yelled after the retreating figure. As we tightened the circle around him, Jehan's eyes darted calculatingly from one of us to another. Realizing he stood no chance alone, he spat defiantly on the ground. “Bollocks! Wait for me, you son of a rothe!” With a dramatic snap of his fingers, Jehan wrapped himself in a cloak of pitch-black fog. As the dark mist slowly thinned, the rogue vanished without a trace, leaving only his bravado hanging in the air.
“Cowards!” The Gith spat out in disdain. “Does no one on this forsaken plane fight with honor?”
“No, thank the heavens above,” I responded dryly. “I’m sure there will be plenty more battles ahead, and gods know they will be my misfortune. Now, shall we deliver Tramatis his prize?” The Gith huffed in annoyance but complied, hoisting Reynfred over her shoulder and leading the way back to Umbralshade, the others following.
I turned to the Dwarf boat master and nodded. He eyed me stoically before cracking a grin. “Three hours and two thousand coins.” As I hurried to catch up with the group, the urgent whispers of the book intruded my thoughts again. I was moving away from it, and it was frantically trying to draw me back. The pull was intense, yet Lyra’s repose from agony urged me forward, and I clung to the notion that I needed her—'to retrieve the book and defeat Cazador,' I reassured myself, though I suspected my reasons of rushing back were not solely bound to that rationale.