Chapter Text
They had been in Baldur’s Gate for almost a tenday and Wyll was beginning to get impatient. A tenday since crossing Wyrm’s Rock, since Tav had their deal with Gortash to pass through the city unimpeded. It was the right move, and Wyll of course was no stranger to making deals with beings of questionable motives, but the longer they waited, the more fights they picked, the longer his father would be imprisoned. The party had slew Lorroakan, defeated Cazador and raised Astarion as a vampire lord, even fought their way through the entire cloister of Shar, and it almost seemed as if Tav had forgotten the urgency to recover the Duke from his prison. Every time Wyll wanted to bring it up to them, though, something stopped him. Something about Tav made him almost… afraid to bring it up. Tav made the decisions, and the party followed. No one else bothered them about a goal, and he got the impression that suggesting a course of action would go… poorly, to say the least.
When the party came back stinking of sulfur, but looking refreshed and sporting brand new armor, and a weapon that looked like it was forged of red crystal, he could only assume that they had been to the hells. How, or why, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he assumed it was important. They wouldn’t just go to the hells lightly. Astarion, Tav, and Gale, covered in blood that was not their own, retired to their side of the rooms, and Shadowheart plopped herself on one of the Elfsong’s plush couches. Wyll sat down beside her as she started to unbuckle the straps of her armor, which was covered in the black ichor of infernals. He knew the stuff well, it was impossible to get out of clothing.
“You look like you’ve been through Hell. What have the four of you got up to this time, Shadowheart?”
She took off her helmet, letting her white braid free once more. She looked exhausted, and as he looked closer, he could see burn marks on her armor, divine fire. “We broke into the House of Hope- Raphael’s domain- and killed him to get the hammer. Supposedly the hammer will be able to free someone who can protect us from the Absolute, and I do hope it will actually be worth the trouble it took to get it.”
“You killed an Archdevil in his own home? Impressive. There aren’t many who can do that and live to tell the tale.”
“I didn’t do much of the killing, that was all them.” She nodded towards the left wing of the rooms, where someone had drawn the curtains to separate it from the common area. “I was just trying to keep them alive.”
“A difficult task, from what I’ve seen so far.”
“Wyll, I appreciate your attempts at conversation, but could I perhaps regale you with our exploits some other time? I could really just use a good meal and some sleep right now. I’m not in the mood for conversation.”
He tilted his head, studying her expression for a moment. There was something beneath the exhaustion- frustration, maybe even resentment, though not directed at him. “Shadowheart.. Are you alright? What happened back there? You seem a bit off.”
Her eyes flickered towards Tav’s side of the room for just the briefest second, almost an imperceptible change of expression. Wyll would have missed it were he not looking at her so intently. She unbuckled the last strap of her armor and cast it to the ground, moving on to unlace her boots. “I’m fine, Wyll, really. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to tell me. Show me.” Their minds connected, the tadpole’s psionic energy pulsing in rhythm. Shadowheart flinched at the suddenness of the connection, but went back to her boot laces, undoing them in quick, sharp motions.
”Fine. I’ll show you. But not a word of this to anyone, alright?”
“You have my word.”
Shadowheart’s mind filled with rapid-fire images of the House of Hope. He saw the four of them- Tav, Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart- stealing the Hammer from its pedestal, fighting their way through the main hall. He saw from Shadowheart’s eyes as she primed a Guiding Bolt and sent it towards an imp, only to have it sear her instead. He could feel the pain of it as the divine fire which she had so casually wielded and commanded through the Shadowlands to great effect was turned on her- it was agonizing. They four of them fought, they healed, they made it to the portal.. And then Raphael came and battle broke out.
Wyll had been in battle with Tav only once before- underneath Moonrise, only because he had insisted on coming along to save Mizora as per his contract- and he could remember vividly how the lightning-quick connection of the tadpole had allowed Tav to suggest courses of action throughout the fight. Usually those strategies were beneficial to everyone. Flank that enemy so Astarion can land a better strike. Spread out, so the Mind Flayer’s blast can only hit one person. Place Hunger of Hadar there, so it hits the most enemies at once. It happened in an instant, and since those strategies usually made sense, after a while it simply became instinct to listen and go along with what they had planned. In Shadowheart’s memories, he could sense that battle-connection. Phrases shared with the speed of a thought, in less than a second
Call on your god, there are too many of them, we need to eliminate multiple at once.
Call on my- you saw what happened with the imp! These cambions share that protection, it’s suicide.
We won’t let you die permanently. Just do it. Do not question me.
I’ll cast Spirit Guardians- I am not calling upon the Moonmaiden just to get myself killed.
Just do it Shadowheart! This is not the time to debate- if you don’t take out all of them at once, we will all die here, is that what you want?
The pain that followed was fleeting, but worse than anything Wyll had ever experienced. He had been through the fires of Avernus when Mizora had transformed him, but this was a hundredfold worse, searing Shadowheart’s flesh and spirit simultaneously. Burning from the inside and out. It was fleeting, at least, because no mortal could bear that much damage all at once and she had lost consciousness. The flash of memories ended, Shadowheart’s mental voice coming back into focus.
“I can’t deny the results. It worked, but it hurt. More than anything that Shar put me through.”
“Shadowheart, I’m sorry…”
“I don’t need your pity Wyll.”
“They forced you to do it.”
“No. They didn’t. I chose to do it myself. I could have done something different. Just drop it.”
“Tav shouldn’t have-”
“I said drop it, Wyll.” Though the conversation was only in their heads, she gestured as if it was spoken out loud, giving him a piercing glare and motioning with her hand to stop speaking. “What’s done is done.”
She severed the connection, the slight hum of energy linking their minds falling silent, and went over to the bath area.
Wyll went back over to his bunk. Jaheira and Minsc were out catching up with each other, after so long spent apart, and Halsin had taken to spending his days on the outskirts of the city or in Bloomridge Park, saying he couldn’t abide being in such a natureless place. Wyll could hardly blame him, and he began to wonder if there wasn’t something deeper to their absences. Could they, too, have recognized that something wasn’t right with this party? With Tav? He had thought they were a friend at first, when they had first come stumbling into the Grove with Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale in tow. They were charming, and though they had no memories, they seemed eager to help him hunt the devil he was after, and to kill the goblins that threatened the tieflings within the Grove, but in hindsight, was that altruism, or was it a desire to see blood shed, regardless of whose it was?
Something was not right with them. It never had been, but no one wanted to see them for what they were. One question burned in his mind, the same question that had been in his mind seven years ago when he had first made his pact with Mizora- There is evil here. What are you willing to do to stop it before it consumes Baldur’s Gate?
The question echoed in his thoughts as he left the tavern, heading out into the night, to a spot on the hill where the grass still grew blackened and burned by hell’s fire.