mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"Aye," said Dame Aylin, placing a companionable hand on his shoulder. "Your heart speaks true. Ho there, astral warrior! It has been too long!"
The aasimar surged forward, pulling Lae’zel into a one-armed embrace. The warrior squirmed uncomfortably. Luckily, Isobel came to her rescue, dragging Aylin away with a chastising
Dear, you must remember that not everyone enjoys hugs.
In the commotion, the boy had approached Lae’zel and was staring up at her with a strange, piercing intensity.
"You’re Lae’zel of Creche K’liir," he said rather matter-of-factly.
"It is as you say," Lae’zel responded warily. "What manner of creche do you hail from that allows youth to travel with Selûnites?"
The boy laughed, high and clear.
"I know, it must be a strange sight. But I am not from any creche. I am V’on’fynh Hallowleaf, of Baldur’s Gate. My friends call me Fynn."
Lae’zel could have slapped herself. The egg. Of course. She had been so sure that it would never hatch, not after months of travel with no sign of life. So inconsequential it had seemed that she had spared the inert egg no thought as she flew off into the Astral. But here he was- living proof that she had been wrong.
Hallowleaf. V’on’fynh
She was staring at Shadowheart’s adopted child.
"I can hear your heart pounding in your chest," he said. "I understand. From what Mother told me, nobody thought I would live. But here I am, and there you are–the impossible really can come true."
"Your name is a mistranslation," Lae’zel said. It was the only thing she could really think to say, the implications of this child without a people ringing between her ears.
He cocked his head to the side like a dog, listening attentively.
"Your name means "Of Joy’," Lae’zel said. "Though your mother certainly meant it as "My Joy’. You are githyanki, but you are no warrior. And you are-"
"Blind?" He finished, giving her a small, almost pitying smile. "Yes. It was a side effect of being in my egg too long. But I manage just fine, with the Moonmaiden’s guidance."
Lae’zel watched Isobel watch her, the cleric’s brow furrowing.
"I see you haven’t changed at all," the Selûnite said, stepping between Lae’zel and the boy. "I’ll have you know that he is our finest cleric, and he’s only fifteen. Watch your tongue."
Lae’zel opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by Tav whooping and sweeping both Isobel and Dame Aylin up in one of her massive hugs. Lae’zel used the opportunity to make a tactical retreat to the inside of the inn. As she walked away, she felt a prickle of divine energy on the back of her neck, but when she turned around, the boy was nowhere to be seen.
Tav found Lae’zel as the gith ran her comb through her auburn hair for the one-hundred and eighty-seventh time. The dragonborn leaned against the open door, knuckles tapping at the doorframe in what passed as a polite knock.
"Everything alright?" Tav asked.
Lae’zel huffed, working her comb through a particularly tough knot.
"I’ll take that as a no," Tav said. She was using that irritating voice that compelled people to talk about their feelings, and Lae’zel tried in vain to smother the part of her that wanted to give in.
"You did not tell me that Shadowheart hatched the child," Lae’zel said.
Tav shrugged.
"It slipped my mind. I told you, I don’t go back to Baldur’s Gate often." Tav stared into the middle distance for a moment. "Bad memories."
Lae’zel thought.
"But," Tav said, composure smoothly regained, "This isn’t about me. Isobel seemed very upset with you and Fynn is sulking on the balcony. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?"
Lae’zel yanked the comb through the knot and placed it onto the dresser with a heavy thunk.
"I was startled and reacted in an unflattering manner. It will not happen again."
Tavar sighed.
"You and I both know that I won’t accept that answer. Come on, talk to me."
," Lae’zel snarled. "Fine. I will
Tavar pulled up the other chair, sitting incorrectly and perching her chin on the back of the seat. Lae’zel could feel all of her worry and fear bubbling to the surface. Damned dragonborn and her
"Had that child hatched at Creche Y’llek, he would have been culled. Even now, in the age of Orpheus. My people can tolerate a blinded warrior, for a blind warrior still remembers how to fight. But none would care for a blinded infant."
"And yet he lives," Tav said.
"And yet," Lae’zel agreed. "Worse still, his presence showed me that this world has moved on. Flowers sprout from our battlefields and rust grows on the swords of the fallen. You are older and he is grown but I am still the same. It distresses me."
Tav thought on that for a moment, drumming her fingers on the wooden backrest.
"Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t," she said. "But if I’m reading this right and you want to try and be different, I can think of a good way to start."
Lae’zel opened the door to the balcony of the inn. The same balcony upon which they had received the blessing of the Moonmaiden all those years ago, in fact. As she suspected, the boy was meditating there, palms raised to catch the rivulets of moonlight. His ears flicked as she approached, but otherwise he made no indication that he had heard her at all.
She settled down a respectful distance from him, folding her hands over her legs in a meditative pose. For a long while no sound passed between the two of them, save for the crickets chirping in the night.
Lae’zel was the first to break the silence.
"I have heard that you are an accomplished
, despite your young age," she began, words hanging heavy in the air. "You do your mother proud."
The boy chuffed at that, lowering his hands to his lap.
"Would it surprise you to know that she
approve of me giving my life to Selûne?"
Perhaps it should have, but it made sense as soon as he said it. In the aftermath of the Nightsong Shadowheart hadn’t seemed keen on throwing herself on the mercy of
gods, despite using the grace of the Moon Goddess to heal.
"No. Still, it takes strength to pursue a path that those you respect do not envision for you," she said, staring out over the flat black lake.
"I know," V’on’fynh said. "But strength doesn’t fix everything."
As he spoke, two moon motes descended from the heavens and settled on his shoulders like holy pauldrons. He breathed out in a relieved sort of way, the light from the specks illuminating the dark scales on the underside of his chin.
"I... apologise, for my careless comments before," Lae’zel said. Her tongue caught on her teeth as she stumbled over the unfamiliar sentiment.
did not have a word for "apologies" . "You are not unworthy."
"It’s alright," he said. "I know how the githyanki feel about people like me." He paused, trying to figure out how to continue. "Sometimes I wish I knew you growing up. Just so I could understand where I came from. What I was supposed to be."
He would have been another corpse. But perhaps that too could change.
Lae’zel hummed, chewing over the multitude of stories (and falsehoods) she knew of her people.
"The githyanki as they were when I was hatched and the githyanki as they are now are not the same," she said. "Before, we were ruled by a false queen who fed on the souls of her finest warriors to feed the raging fires of her hunger for godhood. But then a Sharran cloister tasked their finest initiates with stealing an ancient relic from my people, and that is where our new era began..."
By the time Lae’zel finished her story with a blade through Vlaakith’s chest, V’on’fynh was practically vibrating with excitement, and the sun was turning the night a warm grey from under the horizon.
"Your version of events is so much more exciting than when my mother tells it," he said, thrumming his fingers on his leg. "She always glosses over the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I had no idea you slayed
the god of death!
Lae’zel puffed with pride.
"It is as you say. And despite what Tavar may tell you,
was the one to finally bring him low. Do not believe the dragonborn’s lies about the wizard Gale and a pair of
Fynh chuckled at that, moonlight glinting off his predator fangs. Lae’zel suppressed a smile. Perhaps there was some gith in this boy after all.
He sighed. "The way you described the Astral Sea is so beautiful. I wish I could go there. Bask in it."
"Mmm," Lae’zel said. "It is glorious, but cold. Empty. Time does not pass–people do not change. Decadence is easy, and it is all too simple to fall into frustration." She stopped for a moment, considering the stars. "You are fortunate to be who and where you are."
He smiled, wide and brilliant.
"I know. The Moonmaiden pushes each of us down the paths we travel, and I believe Her guiding hand has brought you back to my mother and I. Will you join me on my journey to Baldur’s Gate?"
"Yes," Lae’zel said. "I will accompany you home."
Lae’zel balled her fists on the flat top of the fencepost, watching the shadow move through the amber light of the farmhouse window. The gith boy next to her lounged on the bar of the fence in a way unbecoming of a warrior, but very reminiscent of his mother.
"My mother doesn’t bite," he teased, and oh, how very wrong he was. Lae’zel had dreamed of those teeth on her neck every night of every aeon that she had spent without her in the cold of the Astral Sea.
"She mentioned you in a lot of her stories," he said when Lae’zel didn’t respond. "I always knew she loved you the most out of the group. Even though she didn’t admit it until I was much older."
Lae’zel exhaled softly through her nose.
I have slain gods and ridden dragons—I should not hesitate so. Yet I cannot bring myself to make myself known to her. How far I have fallen."
The boy laid a hand on her shoulder, pulling her around to meet his unseeing eyes. Something in the way he met her gaze despite his blindness held a wisdom beyond his fifteen years.
"You’re worried that she will not love you as she once did. But I know, here," he tapped his heart, "that she hasn’t forgotten you. Trust me. Please?"
Lae’zel nodded, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. She could feel the seeds of care growing in her heart for this child with the moon in his eyes. And to think that she had once thought Shadowheart was going to make an omelette of his egg!
Without even realising it, her feet had led her to the farmhouse door. Taking a steadying breath, she tapped the knocker against the wood one, two, three times. Short. Succinct. Her heart thudded in her chest like it was the last thing she would ever do. The seconds ticked by interminably until finally she heard light footsteps coming toward the door. The handle turned, pulled back and there she was, dressed in soft linens with her hair down over her back. Had it always been white?
"Shadowheart," she said, the word escaping her mouth as a breathy exhale.
The cleric’s hands shot to her mouth, and Lae’zel could see tears pricking at the edge of the other woman’s eyes as she looked Lae’zel over from head to toe and back again.
"You came back," she said, reaching out a hand but stopping just shy of Lae’zel’s shoulder. The githyanki took the small hand in her larger one and fell to her knees, holding the pale white knuckles a hair’s breadth from her lips.
While Vlaakith lay dead by my blade all I could think of was you. Of what you said about my future when I was free from the bonds of queens and princes."
Shadowheart looked down her arm at the githyanki warrior, eyes soft with an emotion Lae’zel could not read. Lae’zel could feel the warmth coming off of her hand on her lips and yearned to touch her mouth to that soft, pale flesh. But no—she had to speak.
"Many years I have pondered your question of what I would do in a world without Vlaakith, without Orpheus. And since returning to this world, I have come to see all that the fervour of youth blinded me to. I love the smell of the ocean and the way the sky looks at daybreak. I enjoy the taste of dark ale and running a comb through my hair. I care for the weak creatures of this plane in a way shameful for children of Gith, but I cannot bring myself to mind. I have walked a path of blood and glory and carved through legions of those who oppose me, but all I want is you. All I can dream is a life here, at your side. And if you have not forgotten me, I would have you. I will stay. And I will love you as I have promised until the stars burn to embers and the skies go dark."
As Lae’zel finished speaking, she finally registered the quiet sobs that wracked Shadowheart’s body, the tears that spilled from her eyes. The cleric crumpled to the floor, wrapping her free arm around Lae’zel’s neck and tangling the fingers of their joined hands together.
"You damned fool," Shadowheart said, voice muffled where her mouth came perilously close to Lae’zel’s exposed neck. "I was worried you’d
I raised a son on legends of you, worked tirelessly to ensure that the people of Baldur’s Gate never forgot who saved them. And now you’ve returned to me, free of your duty to your people, and ask if I still want you?"
Lae’zel tensed, preparing herself for the worst. Of course she would not take an absence of fifteen years well. Shadowheart could not possibly understand undying duty to the Gith people—she was not one of them.
"I see," she said, pushing away from the embrace ever so slightly. "The years have changed your heart. Give me the word and I will take my leave of this place."
Shadowheart pulled back with and rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips.
"Idiot," she said, kohl-stained eyes crinkling with emotion. "You dense,
githyanki. Did I say I didn’t want you? Perhaps you missed the part where I made sure to etch your legacy into the stones of Baldur’s Ga—"
Lae’zel didn’t let her finish, pulling her in for a searing kiss. She could feel Shadowheart sigh into her, the soft plush of her lips so different from the blood and steel of the last fifteen years. The former cleric threaded her fingers through Lae’zel’s hair, scratching and tugging and causing achingly familiar pain. Lae’zel nipped her bottom lip with her fangs, drawing blood and revelling in Shadowheart’s delicious copper taste. When the two of them finally broke for air, Lae’zel could see the violent blush that had spread across her lover’s cheeks.
Zhak vo’n’fynh duj,"
she whispered against her cleric’s mouth. "I am home at last."
Gale slowly stretched his fingers before extending his arms and legs. The Karabasan poison had instantly paralyzed him, his body trapped right before he was able to unleash his next spell. Luckily for him, his companions had just enough time to take out the last of the doppelgangers before anyone was gruesomely murdered in the street. Now that Shadowheart had cast her spell of Lesser Restoration on him, he was still checking his body for any wounds he couldn't feel previously.
"Leave it to our Gale to be asleep on the job." Astarion cackled as he flipped over the now lifeless body of an assassin, feeling around the pockets for any loose change.
"Ha, ha. You know, that poison is not to be trifled with. I feel like a marble statue in a temple, except much less grand." Gale continued to inspect his clothes for any rips or tears while rocking back and forth on his feet, waiting for the feeling to completely restore to his legs. He could at least feel a few places that would definitely be bruising, but aside from the occasional minor laceration and the orb in his chest that could level the city, he seemed to be mostly intact.
"Gods, what a mess. That killer got away, too. We better find him quick before he paralyzes someone who doesn't have companions to fight back for them," said Shadowheart.

"Aye," said Dame Aylin, placing a companionable hand on his shoulder. "Your heart speaks true. Ho there, astral warrior! It has been too long!"

The aasimar surged forward, pulling Lae’zel into a one-armed embrace. The warrior squirmed uncomfortably. Luckily, Isobel came to her rescue, dragging Aylin away with a chastising

Dear, you must remember that not everyone enjoys hugs.

In the commotion, the boy had approached Lae’zel and was staring up at her with a strange, piercing intensity.

"You’re Lae’zel of Creche K’liir," he said rather matter-of-factly.

"It is as you say," Lae’zel responded warily. "What manner of creche do you hail from that allows youth to travel with Selûnites?"

The boy laughed, high and clear.

"I know, it must be a strange sight. But I am not from any creche. I am V’on’fynh Hallowleaf, of Baldur’s Gate. My friends call me Fynn."

Lae’zel could have slapped herself. The egg. Of course. She had been so sure that it would never hatch, not after months of travel with no sign of life. So inconsequential it had seemed that she had spared the inert egg no thought as she flew off into the Astral. But here he was- living proof that she had been wrong.

Hallowleaf. V’on’fynh

She was staring at Shadowheart’s adopted child.

"I can hear your heart pounding in your chest," he said. "I understand. From what Mother told me, nobody thought I would live. But here I am, and there you are–the impossible really can come true."

"Your name is a mistranslation," Lae’zel said. It was the only thing she could really think to say, the implications of this child without a people ringing between her ears.

He cocked his head to the side like a dog, listening attentively.

"Your name means "Of Joy’," Lae’zel said. "Though your mother certainly meant it as "My Joy’. You are githyanki, but you are no warrior. And you are-"

"Blind?" He finished, giving her a small, almost pitying smile. "Yes. It was a side effect of being in my egg too long. But I manage just fine, with the Moonmaiden’s guidance."

Lae’zel watched Isobel watch her, the cleric’s brow furrowing.

"I see you haven’t changed at all," the Selûnite said, stepping between Lae’zel and the boy. "I’ll have you know that he is our finest cleric, and he’s only fifteen. Watch your tongue."

Lae’zel opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by Tav whooping and sweeping both Isobel and Dame Aylin up in one of her massive hugs. Lae’zel used the opportunity to make a tactical retreat to the inside of the inn. As she walked away, she felt a prickle of divine energy on the back of her neck, but when she turned around, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Tav found Lae’zel as the gith ran her comb through her auburn hair for the one-hundred and eighty-seventh time. The dragonborn leaned against the open door, knuckles tapping at the doorframe in what passed as a polite knock.

"Everything alright?" Tav asked.

Lae’zel huffed, working her comb through a particularly tough knot.

"I’ll take that as a no," Tav said. She was using that irritating voice that compelled people to talk about their feelings, and Lae’zel tried in vain to smother the part of her that wanted to give in.

"You did not tell me that Shadowheart hatched the child," Lae’zel said.

Tav shrugged.

"It slipped my mind. I told you, I don’t go back to Baldur’s Gate often." Tav stared into the middle distance for a moment. "Bad memories."

Lae’zel thought.

"But," Tav said, composure smoothly regained, "This isn’t about me. Isobel seemed very upset with you and Fynn is sulking on the balcony. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?"

Lae’zel yanked the comb through the knot and placed it onto the dresser with a heavy thunk.

"I was startled and reacted in an unflattering manner. It will not happen again."

Tavar sighed.

"You and I both know that I won’t accept that answer. Come on, talk to me."

," Lae’zel snarled. "Fine. I will

Tavar pulled up the other chair, sitting incorrectly and perching her chin on the back of the seat. Lae’zel could feel all of her worry and fear bubbling to the surface. Damned dragonborn and her

"Had that child hatched at Creche Y’llek, he would have been culled. Even now, in the age of Orpheus. My people can tolerate a blinded warrior, for a blind warrior still remembers how to fight. But none would care for a blinded infant."

"And yet he lives," Tav said.

"And yet," Lae’zel agreed. "Worse still, his presence showed me that this world has moved on. Flowers sprout from our battlefields and rust grows on the swords of the fallen. You are older and he is grown but I am still the same. It distresses me."

Tav thought on that for a moment, drumming her fingers on the wooden backrest.

"Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t," she said. "But if I’m reading this right and you want to try and be different, I can think of a good way to start."

Lae’zel opened the door to the balcony of the inn. The same balcony upon which they had received the blessing of the Moonmaiden all those years ago, in fact. As she suspected, the boy was meditating there, palms raised to catch the rivulets of moonlight. His ears flicked as she approached, but otherwise he made no indication that he had heard her at all.

She settled down a respectful distance from him, folding her hands over her legs in a meditative pose. For a long while no sound passed between the two of them, save for the crickets chirping in the night.

Lae’zel was the first to break the silence.

"I have heard that you are an accomplished

, despite your young age," she began, words hanging heavy in the air. "You do your mother proud."

The boy chuffed at that, lowering his hands to his lap.

"Would it surprise you to know that she

approve of me giving my life to Selûne?"

Perhaps it should have, but it made sense as soon as he said it. In the aftermath of the Nightsong Shadowheart hadn’t seemed keen on throwing herself on the mercy of

gods, despite using the grace of the Moon Goddess to heal.

"No. Still, it takes strength to pursue a path that those you respect do not envision for you," she said, staring out over the flat black lake.

"I know," V’on’fynh said. "But strength doesn’t fix everything."

As he spoke, two moon motes descended from the heavens and settled on his shoulders like holy pauldrons. He breathed out in a relieved sort of way, the light from the specks illuminating the dark scales on the underside of his chin.

"I... apologise, for my careless comments before," Lae’zel said. Her tongue caught on her teeth as she stumbled over the unfamiliar sentiment.

did not have a word for "apologies" . "You are not unworthy."

"It’s alright," he said. "I know how the githyanki feel about people like me." He paused, trying to figure out how to continue. "Sometimes I wish I knew you growing up. Just so I could understand where I came from. What I was supposed to be."

He would have been another corpse. But perhaps that too could change.

Lae’zel hummed, chewing over the multitude of stories (and falsehoods) she knew of her people.

"The githyanki as they were when I was hatched and the githyanki as they are now are not the same," she said. "Before, we were ruled by a false queen who fed on the souls of her finest warriors to feed the raging fires of her hunger for godhood. But then a Sharran cloister tasked their finest initiates with stealing an ancient relic from my people, and that is where our new era began..."

By the time Lae’zel finished her story with a blade through Vlaakith’s chest, V’on’fynh was practically vibrating with excitement, and the sun was turning the night a warm grey from under the horizon.

"Your version of events is so much more exciting than when my mother tells it," he said, thrumming his fingers on his leg. "She always glosses over the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I had no idea you slayed

the god of death!

Lae’zel puffed with pride.

"It is as you say. And despite what Tavar may tell you,

was the one to finally bring him low. Do not believe the dragonborn’s lies about the wizard Gale and a pair of

Fynh chuckled at that, moonlight glinting off his predator fangs. Lae’zel suppressed a smile. Perhaps there was some gith in this boy after all.

He sighed. "The way you described the Astral Sea is so beautiful. I wish I could go there. Bask in it."

"Mmm," Lae’zel said. "It is glorious, but cold. Empty. Time does not pass–people do not change. Decadence is easy, and it is all too simple to fall into frustration." She stopped for a moment, considering the stars. "You are fortunate to be who and where you are."

He smiled, wide and brilliant.

"I know. The Moonmaiden pushes each of us down the paths we travel, and I believe Her guiding hand has brought you back to my mother and I. Will you join me on my journey to Baldur’s Gate?"

"Yes," Lae’zel said. "I will accompany you home."

Lae’zel balled her fists on the flat top of the fencepost, watching the shadow move through the amber light of the farmhouse window. The gith boy next to her lounged on the bar of the fence in a way unbecoming of a warrior, but very reminiscent of his mother.

"My mother doesn’t bite," he teased, and oh, how very wrong he was. Lae’zel had dreamed of those teeth on her neck every night of every aeon that she had spent without her in the cold of the Astral Sea.

"She mentioned you in a lot of her stories," he said when Lae’zel didn’t respond. "I always knew she loved you the most out of the group. Even though she didn’t admit it until I was much older."

Lae’zel exhaled softly through her nose.

I have slain gods and ridden dragons—I should not hesitate so. Yet I cannot bring myself to make myself known to her. How far I have fallen."

The boy laid a hand on her shoulder, pulling her around to meet his unseeing eyes. Something in the way he met her gaze despite his blindness held a wisdom beyond his fifteen years.

"You’re worried that she will not love you as she once did. But I know, here," he tapped his heart, "that she hasn’t forgotten you. Trust me. Please?"

Lae’zel nodded, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. She could feel the seeds of care growing in her heart for this child with the moon in his eyes. And to think that she had once thought Shadowheart was going to make an omelette of his egg!

Without even realising it, her feet had led her to the farmhouse door. Taking a steadying breath, she tapped the knocker against the wood one, two, three times. Short. Succinct. Her heart thudded in her chest like it was the last thing she would ever do. The seconds ticked by interminably until finally she heard light footsteps coming toward the door. The handle turned, pulled back and there she was, dressed in soft linens with her hair down over her back. Had it always been white?

"Shadowheart," she said, the word escaping her mouth as a breathy exhale.

The cleric’s hands shot to her mouth, and Lae’zel could see tears pricking at the edge of the other woman’s eyes as she looked Lae’zel over from head to toe and back again.

"You came back," she said, reaching out a hand but stopping just shy of Lae’zel’s shoulder. The githyanki took the small hand in her larger one and fell to her knees, holding the pale white knuckles a hair’s breadth from her lips.

While Vlaakith lay dead by my blade all I could think of was you. Of what you said about my future when I was free from the bonds of queens and princes."

Shadowheart looked down her arm at the githyanki warrior, eyes soft with an emotion Lae’zel could not read. Lae’zel could feel the warmth coming off of her hand on her lips and yearned to touch her mouth to that soft, pale flesh. But no—she had to speak.

"Many years I have pondered your question of what I would do in a world without Vlaakith, without Orpheus. And since returning to this world, I have come to see all that the fervour of youth blinded me to. I love the smell of the ocean and the way the sky looks at daybreak. I enjoy the taste of dark ale and running a comb through my hair. I care for the weak creatures of this plane in a way shameful for children of Gith, but I cannot bring myself to mind. I have walked a path of blood and glory and carved through legions of those who oppose me, but all I want is you. All I can dream is a life here, at your side. And if you have not forgotten me, I would have you. I will stay. And I will love you as I have promised until the stars burn to embers and the skies go dark."

As Lae’zel finished speaking, she finally registered the quiet sobs that wracked Shadowheart’s body, the tears that spilled from her eyes. The cleric crumpled to the floor, wrapping her free arm around Lae’zel’s neck and tangling the fingers of their joined hands together.

"You damned fool," Shadowheart said, voice muffled where her mouth came perilously close to Lae’zel’s exposed neck. "I was worried you’d

I raised a son on legends of you, worked tirelessly to ensure that the people of Baldur’s Gate never forgot who saved them. And now you’ve returned to me, free of your duty to your people, and ask if I still want you?"

Lae’zel tensed, preparing herself for the worst. Of course she would not take an absence of fifteen years well. Shadowheart could not possibly understand undying duty to the Gith people—she was not one of them.

"I see," she said, pushing away from the embrace ever so slightly. "The years have changed your heart. Give me the word and I will take my leave of this place."

Shadowheart pulled back with and rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

"Idiot," she said, kohl-stained eyes crinkling with emotion. "You dense,

githyanki. Did I say I didn’t want you? Perhaps you missed the part where I made sure to etch your legacy into the stones of Baldur’s Ga—"

Lae’zel didn’t let her finish, pulling her in for a searing kiss. She could feel Shadowheart sigh into her, the soft plush of her lips so different from the blood and steel of the last fifteen years. The former cleric threaded her fingers through Lae’zel’s hair, scratching and tugging and causing achingly familiar pain. Lae’zel nipped her bottom lip with her fangs, drawing blood and revelling in Shadowheart’s delicious copper taste. When the two of them finally broke for air, Lae’zel could see the violent blush that had spread across her lover’s cheeks.

Zhak vo’n’fynh duj,"

she whispered against her cleric’s mouth. "I am home at last."

Gale slowly stretched his fingers before extending his arms and legs. The Karabasan poison had instantly paralyzed him, his body trapped right before he was able to unleash his next spell. Luckily for him, his companions had just enough time to take out the last of the doppelgangers before anyone was gruesomely murdered in the street. Now that Shadowheart had cast her spell of Lesser Restoration on him, he was still checking his body for any wounds he couldn't feel previously.

"Leave it to our Gale to be asleep on the job." Astarion cackled as he flipped over the now lifeless body of an assassin, feeling around the pockets for any loose change.

"Ha, ha. You know, that poison is not to be trifled with. I feel like a marble statue in a temple, except much less grand." Gale continued to inspect his clothes for any rips or tears while rocking back and forth on his feet, waiting for the feeling to completely restore to his legs. He could at least feel a few places that would definitely be bruising, but aside from the occasional minor laceration and the orb in his chest that could level the city, he seemed to be mostly intact.

"Gods, what a mess. That killer got away, too. We better find him quick before he paralyzes someone who doesn't have companions to fight back for them," said Shadowheart.