Chapter Text
Later, Essek would curse himself for not being more careful. Weeks and weeks of exploring Aeor, of learning how to spot the threats. Identify the traps. Evade the monsters. He thought he knew what to look for. He thought that he had seen all the forms that danger could take in this god-cursed place. He thought he had a handle on it.
It turned out that it only made him complacent.
The painting stood out to Essek immediately, the moment he stepped into the ancient library. The entire building had once been the private estate of a powerful archmage and so was full to the brim with all sorts of fascinating magical artifacts. He and Caleb had been casting Detect Magic near-constantly since the moment they walked in.
The portrait depicted an impossibly beautiful, half-naked human man in a pose that could only be described as seductive. It seemed an odd thing to decorate one’s private library with. It couldn’t depict the mansion’s owner—other items he and Caleb had found made it clear that that person had been neither human nor male. A lover then?
All of that was of academic curiosity to Essek. What truly caught his interest was the stupidly powerful aura of abjuration surrounding it. As far as he could tell, the effect sealed something away in a manner not unlike his wristpocket, but permanent and considerably larger. This painting served as a physical anchor of that extradimensional space to the material plane; for all intents and purposes, it was the arcane equivalent of a safe hidden behind a painting. From the strength of the abjuration, it had been designed to resist any normal attempt to dispel it.
Something was hidden magically inside of that painting, something the master of this house very much did not want their lesser rivals getting access to.
Unfortunately for them, Essek was anything but ‘lesser.’
What Essek should have done was summon Caleb. Together, they could have teased apart this puzzle properly. Safely. But visions of long-forgotten arcane texts and artifacts had started dancing in his mind’s eye, and Essek was tired of finding nothing but minor trinkets and baubles. Besides, the thought of the admiring look on Caleb’s face when he saw what Essek had accomplished made his insides quiver in a pleasant way. Essek refused to think too hard about why that was.
Essek didn’t bother with subtlety. He simply upcast Dispel Magic to nearly the height of his abilities and blasted away the abjuration, like smashing open a safe with a sufficiently large hammer. The spell shattered instantly, and the portrait shimmered and warped. Then it melted, flowing down like thick liquid. Essek leapt back as the strange substance pooled on the carpet, gradually coalescing into the shape of… a man.
But not a normal man. Blood-red skin. Claws like talons. Batlike wings. Long, spade-tipped tail like a tiefling’s. He stretched like a creature awaking from a very long sleep; well-cut muscles rippled along his stomach as he did.
“Thank fuck that’s over,” the creature groaned in Infernal.
Essek had just enough time to first think incubus and then shit before the creature caught his eyes.
The eyes pulled at his focus the way a lodestone drew in iron filings. They were the rich color of swirling molten gold and seemed as bottomless as the well of possibility in the beacon. Essek felt like he was falling, falling, falling into the depths of those eyes, though he remained exactly where he was.
He blinked, and the world righted itself. Why was he so nervous? This beautiful, wonderful creature was a friend. He would do anything for it.
The beautiful creature cocked his head at Essek, seemingly puzzled. Essek took a tentative step forward, seized by the urge to be helpful. “Do you need something?”
“I’m just wondering what one of the Spider Bitch’s pets is doing here,” the creature said musingly. He gestured broadly, taking in the dilapidated state of the room. “Is she the one responsible for all this?”
“Ah, the drow have not served Llolth for some centuries,” Essek said. He resisted the urge to laugh at his new friend’s mistake. He must have been trapped in that painting since the fall of Aeor; it would be unkind to make fun of him for being so behind the times. “But to answer your question: the fall of Aeor is said to have been a joint effort by all the gods.”
His friend’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn. Looks like I’ve got a lot of thank-you cards to write.” Then his face shifted into a wrinkle of disgust. “On second thought, nevermind. I think I’d rather eat puke than thank the Archeart for anything. Or the Everlight.”
Essek hovered, uncertain how to respond. His friend didn’t seem to actually be talking to him now, just thinking out loud. At the same time, Essek was desperate to prove himself useful to this wonderful person. “I gather you were trapped for quite a long time,” he ventured eventually. “Is there anything I can provide for you? Food, perhaps?”
His friend laughed as if Essek had said something funny. “So eager to please. As it happens, I’m downright starving after all that time stuck in canvas. Lucky for me, you can provide me with exactly what I need.”
He caught Essek’s gaze again with a rueful smile, and Essek found himself reflecting it like a besotted fool. “I’ll be honest, I feel a little bad using you for that. You did do me a big favor by freeing me, after all. But something tells me good food is going to be hard to come by around here. And beggars can’t be choosers and all that.” He shrugged, as if to say what can you do? “But I’ll tell you what. I can at least give you one little treat before you go. What do you say to that?”
Essek hid his confusion behind a polite smile. “I’m sure whatever you have in mind will be lovely.” He would eagerly give this wonderful person anything he wanted, even if ‘anything’ meant ‘everything.’
The incubus’ form shimmered and morphed; Essek blinked and found a drow woman standing before him, scantily clad and impossibly beautiful, a masterwork painting come to life. The incubus gave Essek a considering look. “Hmmm, not the reaction I was looking for. Is this not your preferred flavor? Then perhaps…?” His form shimmered again, and Essek was now looking at a drow man, the near-identical twin of the woman and similarly underdressed. The incubus tapped one finger against his hip, frowning slightly. “No, that doesn’t seem to be doing it for you either. Is there anyone you’re interested in? Because if the answer is no, then this will be a whole lot less fun for you.”
In the depths of Essek’s mind came a whisper, the haunting echo of the incubus’ words. Show me what your body desires. Essek’s mind immediately presented him with a vision of copper hair and daysky-blue eyes and exotically freckled skin the color of bleached sand. The incubus’ eyebrows shot up nearly into his hairline. “Interesting.” He shrugged again. “Well, far be it from me to question taste.”
His form shimmered again and morphed into the shape of Caleb Widogast. Not dressed in the thick practical winter gear Essek had gotten used to lately. This Caleb was barefoot, wearing only his book holsters over a thin, white cotton shirt and a tight-fitting pair of brown trousers that left very little to the imagination. He stood in a model’s pose with one hand on his hip, mouth curved in a confident smirk that haunted Essek’s nighttime imaginings. Essek’s mouth went suddenly dry, and his heartbeat quickened.
’Caleb’ chuckled. “Oh yes, you definitely like this one.” He beckoned with one finger, and Essek found himself hurrying over like a dog to its master. “I’ll admit I’m curious about the story here. Is he a pet of yours? Or is this some kind of tawdry love-across-enemy-lines tale?”
Essek looked down, shamefaced. He shouldn’t forget that this wasn’t really Caleb standing before him. This was only a… a friend, showing him a kindness. But oh how Essek longed to pretend. “He is a dear friend, only. He… does not want me like that.” And if he has any sense, he never will.
Not-Caleb gave him a look of excruciating pity and clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Poor thing. I can feel how much it hurts you to want him.” He cupped Essek’s chin in his hand, tilted his face up until Essek was drowning in those eyes as endless as the sky. “His loss; you really are a tasty-looking morsel.”
His lips claimed Essek’s as if they had always belonged there. Something molten and warm and vital poured from Essek’s lips into Caleb’s mouth, and Essek was more than happy to let it go. This was enlightenment and communion and paradise all at once, and Essek never wanted it to end.
So what if this was only a fantasy? So what if this wasn’t the real man himself? It was a dream Essek would be happy to never wake up from. His life was so cold and empty, and Caleb felt like the only source of heat in a world frozen over. Essek pressed as much of himself against Caleb’s body as he could, desperate for every last scrap of warmth.
Essek felt something flowing out of him and into Caleb like warm steam, leaving coldness in its wake. His limbs begin to weaken and tremble, and he clung to Caleb like a drowning man to a life preserver just to stay upright. Perhaps sensing this, Caleb’s arms wrapped around him, supporting Essek with a strength and gentleness that took his breath away. Had anyone ever held him like this before? Like something precious? Like something cherished?
“Don’t worry, darling,” Caleb murmured into Essek’s mouth. “I’ve got you. Just relax and let me make you feel good.” Well. How could Essek possibly refuse a request like that? He let himself go pliant in Caleb’s arms. The sensation of something flowing out of him quickened, and Essek was happy to let it. He would give Caleb all of himself, if he asked for it.
Caleb made a pleased sound and hoisted him up slightly, wedging one leg between Essek’s thighs and grinding against his crotch. Essek moaned into his mouth; Caleb repeated the motion, swallowing each wanton little sound that Essek made in turn.
Essek’s vision had started going dark around the edges. Consciousness was becoming difficult, like trying to tread water on the open ocean in a hurricane. That was fine. Caleb would take care of him. Caleb would make him feel good. Why spoil that with a struggle?
A sudden shout and flash of green light sent Caleb recoiling from Essek with a foul curse in Infernal; the perfect, beautiful face of Caleb Widogast was gasping as though he’d been punched in the chest by a minotaur. A delicate filament of cracks spiderwebbed across his skin, like fine pottery on the verge of shattering.
They both turned to see Caleb—a different Caleb, the Caleb of cold, harsh reality—fully dressed in long brown overcoat and scarf, standing at the library’s entrance. Dust was smeared all up one arm, and his hands were poised in what Essek recognized as the final somatics of a Disintegrate spell. His eyes had the faint shimmer of magic, and his face was contorted in an expression of icy fury that Essek could not recall ever seeing before.
“Get your fucking hands off him, fiend.”
The new Caleb—the one who wasn’t his—smeared another handful of dust up his arm, clearly intending to finish what he’d started.
No! His arms felt like they were filled with lead, but Essek still managed to slash at the air with a sharp, cutting Counterspell. The new Caleb startled as the Disintegrate fizzled in his hands. “Essek?”
Essek was panting heavily. His body felt like it was made of so much wobbly jelly. He probably would have crumpled to his feet if it weren’t for the inferno of rage roaring through his veins. It bolstered him like hot air filling a balloon. “Don’t you dare kill him!” he snarled.
“That’s right, love.” Caleb—Essek’s Caleb, the one who loved him—whispered in his ear. It sent a delightful shiver down Essek’s spine. “He wants to take me away from you. He hates seeing you happy.”
The other Caleb, the one who would never be his, looked pained. “Essek, that’s not the real me. That’s a fiend wearing my face.”
“Is that how little you think of me?” Essek snapped. The other Caleb flinched as if from a physical blow. “I know exactly what he is.” He’s the one who will give me what you never would.
Essek’s Caleb kissed him sweetly on the cheek. It felt like benediction. “Be a dear and get rid of him for me, darling.”
Essek took two staggering steps to the side, putting his body between the two. Even that small movement left him feeling winded. The other Caleb's expression shifted from pain to downright agony. “Essek, please,” he begged. “You can hardly stand. Please don’t do this.”
“I don’t need to stand to kill you,” Essek said coldly, and cast Gravity Fissure. The other Caleb screamed as the ravine of gravitational energy struck him square in the chest, bludgeoning him like a cudgel. He staggered back, gasping, but still standing.
That Caleb began desperately casting Dispel Magic. “You have to wake up, he’s going to kill you.”
Essek’s Caleb hissed in his ear. “ Stop him!”
Essek was already shattering the spell with his own counter before it could take form. “Then at least I die happy!”
The other Caleb’s expression shuttered. “I see then.” His focus shifted to his double. “More than one way to break a charm effect.” Nine little darts of magic appeared around his head and went flying straight at Essek. Essek frantically tried to Shield himself, but at the last moment the missiles swerved, arcing around him to their true target. Behind him.
The Caleb that loved him screamed as they all hit home. Essek’s heart nearly stopped. Each one buried itself deep in his love’s skin, though the blood that sprayed out was a deep, stygian black instead of red. Essek’s Caleb staggered, then snarled a curse in Infernal. Essek could have kissed him with relief, but then his Caleb slipped into the ether and vanished. For a brief moment Essek panicked, but a honey-sweet voice whispered reassurance in his mind. Don’t worry, darling, I haven’t gone far. Just put myself where he can’t hurt me anymore.
Right. Of course. Some fiends could slip in and out of the Ethereal Plane at will. Verin had mentioned that when telling stories about Bazzoxan.
Why don’t you put an end to this farce. I’ll make sure he doesn’t stop you.
“Essek, please, I don’t want to hurt you,” the other Caleb pleaded. “You have to fight him!”
The fury exploded in Essek’s veins like a raging inferno. Why couldn’t the other Caleb just let him have this? Essek was happy, truly happy for the first time he could ever remember. And Caleb-who-never-loved-him’s first impulse was to take that away from him?
Essek thrust his hands into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around a shard of pitch-black onyx. He squeezed and squeezed and squeezed with all his meager remaining strength until the stone’s razor-like edges punctured through his glove and into the lily-soft skin of his palm. He could feel a hot bead of blood well up out of the wound, soaking into the leather of the glove. He didn’t care that it hurt. He just wanted the other Caleb not to be.
Caleb’s eyes widened in horrified recognition as Essek started to cast. He frantically tried to Counterspell—an exceptionally powerful one by the looks of it—but a blood-red claw swiped out suddenly from the Ethereal Plane, raking him across the back. Caleb screamed, and the Counterspell fizzled out in his hands.
A massive, pitch-black sphere like a hole punched in reality sprang into being, with Caleb at its center. It swallowed the terrified-looking wizard and any further screams he might have made. It grew and grew and grew until it had engulfed most of the library, as well as several of the adjoining rooms and much of the upper stories. The most powerful, most primal forces of reality, wielded by Essek’s hand with the immense power and complexity of a siege engine. All to destroy one man.
The room was eerily silent then. There was an entire hurricane’s worth of destruction concentrated inside that sphere, Essek knew. But the force of gravity inside the Dark Star was so strong that it swallowed all sounds inside it. Any attempt to cast a spell with a verbal component would fail, the words of power gobbled up by the void too quickly to have any effect on the weave. There was no teleporting out of that space. The best that anyone could hope for would be to blindly stumble their way out of its radius before it crushed them into a thin red smear.
Essek panted with the effort of keeping it all together. It felt like riding an avalanche; the sensation of forces burning to escape the limits of his control buzzed in his veins like too much coffee. Darkness was creeping at the edge of his vision again, and he fought to stay conscious.
“My, is it rough in there.” Essek’s Caleb slipped out of the ether beside him, shaking one hand as if something had stung it. “Tried to shank him again just for kicks, and your little death zone damn near took my fingers off.”
Essek spared his love a worried glance. “Are you hurt?”
Caleb grinned maliciously. “Not as badly as he is.”
Essek was not reassured. His Caleb looked almost as terrible as Essek felt. The spiderweb cracks had expanded dramatically, giving the impression of a shattered porcelain vase put back together with nothing more than spit and thin paste. “Stay back,” he said. Even speaking felt like a titanic effort. “This spell does not kill instantly. He may yet make it out—”
At that precise moment, the other Caleb staggered out of the void. Or at least, Essek assumed it was Caleb. The figure was so battered and bloodied, its clothes ripped to shreds and its skin mottled with bruising, that it was difficult to even identify it as human. The figure shook, though whether from pain, exhaustion, or terror, Essek couldn’t tell.
The figure flashed Essek a sorrowful look, before staggering away. He seemed to be readying a spell, though Essek couldn’t quite tell which one. Probably trying to get out of Counterspell range before he let it loose. Dispelling could be done from considerably further away.
His Caleb seemed to have the same thought. “Oh no you don’t,” he growled before slipping back into the ether.
Essek yearned to follow, but if he tried to take a single step he would likely fall. He couldn't let that happen, not while he was pouring so much effort into just keeping the Dark Star up. He was reluctant to let the spell go, not when they might still be able to force the other Caleb back inside and finish him off for good.
Fortunately, his Caleb materialized in front of the other one just as they both crossed out of Counterspell range. “Boo,” he said with an evil grin. The other Caleb didn’t say anything. He just let his readied spell loose.
It wasn’t another Dispel. It was a Gravity Sinkhole. Right on top of them both.
Essek’s Caleb was yanked violently towards the center, where he deformed and shattered in a spray of black ichor with a horrifying squelch and scream.
The other Caleb managed to hold his ground, but only barely. He was still caught up in his own creation, and Essek heard the sickening snap of bone as Caleb screamed in an agonized echo of his doppelganger.
It was like a veil had been lifted from Essek’s mind without him ever having been aware of its presence. It was like the entire room had flipped on its side, despite everything staying in the exact same place it was a moment ago. Numbly, he let the Dark Star fade into nothing, leaving an unnaturally empty circle in the middle of the room in its place.
Light. He had just—
He had almost—
He had come so close to—
Essek’s stomach roiled. The sour taste of bile climbed up the back of his throat, and it took everything he had not to vomit then and there. He had to know. He had to face this.
“Caleb?” he choked out. “Caleb, are you—?”
Caleb—the real Caleb—turned to face him, swaying unsteadily. He’d looked frightful enough before, but now? Black ichor was spattered all up and down his front. He cradled his right arm tenderly against his chest, and there was something unsettlingly wrong with it. They weren’t supposed to bend in two places like that, were they? And hands were not supposed to be that shape.
Caleb’s face split in a relieved smile, teeth standing out starkly against the grime of his face. “Thank the gods,” he breathed. “You’re you again.” Then he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Essek screamed. Later, he would have trouble remembering just how he closed the distance between them. He must have done it on foot, since he couldn’t recall casting any spells, but it seemed impossible that he could have managed that without falling. That damned demon’s kiss had left him so fucking useless. All he could recall later was his vision tunneling in on that broken, crumpled form.
He did fall at the end, landing on his knees besides Caleb. His form was so terrifyingly still. “No no no no no —”
Essek had taken it upon himself to study up on field medicine, after Cognouza. If he and Caleb were going to go back into Aeor without clerics, he’d reasoned, it would be a vital skill to have. The chief physician at Vurmas had thought it an odd interest for a wizard like him to have (he wasn’t about to admit the true reason behind it), but she wasn’t about to argue with the commander of the outpost. It was thanks to her tutelage that Essek knew exactly where to look for a pulse—the same places on a human as on an elf.
There. Weak and rabbit-fast, but undeniably present. Essek could have sobbed with relief.
Potions. Caleb needed potions. They had run through most of the stock they’d brought with them, but they ought to still have—
Essek started frantically searching Caleb’s pockets. It was an agonizingly slow process—every movement felt like pushing through taffy, it took so much effort. Caleb moaned and rolled over onto his side, and Essek heard the crunch of broken glass. His heart plummeted. There, where the coat pocket that normally held Caleb’s supply of potions should have been, was a tatter of shredded cloth stained a much brighter red than blood could account for.
That—that was nearly their entire stock. Essek only had one potion left on him, and it was such a pathetic little thing. That, and a healer’s kit. The first was perhaps good for a single stab wound. The second… it felt like confronting a burning building with only a single bucketful of water at his disposal.
He started fumbling for them anyway. What else could he do?
“Stone,” Caleb wheezed.
Essek blinked at him, startled by this apparent non sequitur. “What?”
“Tr– tr– trans—” He devolved into a fit of wet, ugly-sounding coughing.
It took Essek’s exhaustion-addled mind a painfully long time to understand what Caleb was trying to say. The Transmuter’s Stone. Essek had seen Caleb use it before to mend a broken leg. It destroyed the stone, but he’d preferred going without one temporarily over interrupting their expedition for the time it would take to leave, see a healer, and return. Among other things, it can fix any and all illnesses and injuries, Caleb had explained when Essek asked about its capabilities.
Relief flooded Essek’s veins like cool water. They had a solution. This was fixable. Caleb would be alright. “Where is it?” he asked urgently.
“Left– left shirt pocket.” Caleb’s ruined hand twitched, as if to indicate it, before stilling with a whimper of pain.
Essek hurriedly fished the little stone out of Caleb’s shirt pocket. It was still intact, thank the Light, not even scratched. The object’s inherent magic had protected it from the fury of Essek’s spell. He wanted to cry with relief. Later. He could have a breakdown after Caleb was in the clear.
“What do I do with it?” Essek asked, once he had the stone in hand.
“Gi– give–” Caleb coughed, a horrible wet sound. “Give it to me.”
Essek pressed the little rock into Caleb’s good hand. His fingers curled weakly around it. “Take it. Use it.”
It wasn’t a spell that Caleb cast—or at least not one like Essek had ever seen anyone else perform. There were no somatics, no incantations, none of the usual components required by every spell ever cast by mortals. Caleb simply squeezed it, and the little rock lit up with a soft blue light. It hummed for a moment like the buzzing of insects. Then it melted. That was the only word Essek could use to describe it. It undulated for a moment in Caleb’s hand, then coated his palm, almost like a thick gel.
Then, with a sudden burst of strength Essek would not have thought possible, Caleb surged upright and pressed that hand directly into Essek’s heart. Essek didn’t even have time to recoil. Healing power poured into him so rapidly it almost hurt, like hot tea drunk too fast, too soon. All the strength and vitality the incubus had stolen from him flooded back. It filled him up like fire, life-giving and painful all at once.
“What are you doing?” Essek said, horror-struck.
Caleb smiled tiredly. “Being selfish.” Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed in a dead faint.