mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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He looked up at her. "Exhilarating. Terrifying. Exhausting." His face was a range of emotions as he spoke every word.
"For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried." Astarion faced the headstone again.
"Now I need to figure out who I am." He smiled, turning to gaze at her hazel eyes. "And what I want."
"And what do you want?" asked Aethelle, returning his loving smile.
"You... I want you."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared." He paused for a moment, a grin widening on his face. "You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do."
"I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."
"You won't," said the sorceress firmly. "Whatever comes next, I've got you."
They smiled for a moment more.
"Well," said Astarion, kneeling to the tombstone. "I should probably fix this."
Pulling the elegant dagger Rhapsody from its sheath, he began delicately carving into the stone. He glanced back at the sorceress, who nodded in approval.
Astarion Ancunín
The two elves kneeled for a moment, taking in all that had happened to them thus far. Aethelle closed her eyes and felt the soft breeze on her skin. The city was so quiet tonight, the only sounds coming from the rustling of the grass and the distant patter on cobblestone streets. Astarion finally broke the silence.
"I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer."
She opened her eyes, and her lover turned to her, taking her hands in his.
"If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded," smirked the rogue.
The sorceress blushed and bit her lip. "Sounds good to me."
"You know," began Astarion, "I didn't care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance." His eyes focused on her, wholly and ardently.
"I love you. I love this. And I want it all."
Aethelle's eyes widened as she realized this was the love she was always meant to have, that she always deserved to have. Sitting in front of her was someone who loved her unconditionally, all because she had shown him love in return. Astarion was what Torriel could have been - but Torriel never would have been, in the end. Because every path, every road she trekked, every trial and tribulation she faced before, eventually led to this moment here and now. It didn't quite take away the pain of the past, but a love like this certainly made it easier to bear.
Astarion cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned in to kiss her. She couldn't help but smile into him.
He sat up for a moment, gently pushing her backwards. She lay there as he crawled over her, their lips meeting again, his knee pushing her legs apart. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him deeper into their kiss. When they stopped for a moment to catch their breath, she stared into his crimson eyes.
"I love you too."
Astarion pulled her into him, their lips meeting again. As they kissed and held each other, their hands wandered to undo their clothing, only breaking the kiss to slip their shirts over their heads. Soon they lay bare in the grass of the graveyard, their limbs intertwined, their hands never leaving the other.
His hand found its way down to her slit, gently feeling the softness between her legs. He finally moved from her lips to delicately kiss her cleavage, before settling his tongue on the peak of her breast. She moaned at his touch, craving more. He rewarded her by slipping a finger into her warmth, and her hips rocked carefully against his hand.
Astarion looked to her with half-lidded eyes, adoring the need in her gaze. He took the pad of his thumb and drew it in circles around her clit. She moaned again, and as he buried himself back in her breast, he slipped another digit into her. He worked her delicately, and the sorceress felt her hips move against him without reserve.
"Astarion," she murmured, the blood rushing to her cheeks. His head perked up, and he leaned his face over hers, their lips brushing.
"Yes, my love?"
He kissed her fervently, slowly removing his hand from her sheath. Aethelle groaned into him, outreaching her hand for his girth. She delicately tugged at him, eliciting a moan from him in return. As she ran her fingers along his shaft, she placed the tip of him at her slit. He hungrily thrust into her, the sudden feeling causing the two elves to gasp as they trembled.
It had been some time since they were last together like this. Yet this time, there was no shame, guilt, or deception attached. There was only a boundless love between them. And finally, they both found themselves in the middle of something breathlessly real.
As he rocked back and forth on top of her, he brought his hand back to her clit, rubbing her once more. She sighed into him, feeling her lower body tense. He brought his face away from their kiss for a moment to look at her, and he took in the rose of her skin and her warm hazel eyes.
Aethelle cupped his face with her free hand, returning his adoring gaze. They stared lovingly at each other for a few moments more when the sorceress felt her body tighten, the climax rocking her hips. She gasped as the wave washed over her, and she soon heard Astarion groan as well, feeling his body shuddering with his release.
The two elves rolled to their sides, clinging to each other. They softly kissed as they lay in the cool grass, smiling beneath the moonlight.
"I suppose," began Astarion, running a hand through the sorceress's hair, "that we should leave, before someone arrives and reprimands us for being here."
"Astarion," began the sorceress, suddenly quite serious. She locked her eyes with his and cupped his cheek. "We can go at your own pace. I know there will be harder days than others. That's okay. I don't wish to rush you."
"I know, my dear."
Astarion smiled at her, before kissing her again. She laughed beneath his touch.
"You'll have to damn near carry me back then, I'm exhausted after today!" giggled Aethelle.
The two elves stood, nuzzling into each other, as they gradually dressed themselves. Once they were ready, they embraced and kissed once more, and Astarion took her hand to lead her down the cobble path. As they walked down the stone steps leading to the city streets, Astarion paused with his back to her, and kneeled.
"What is it?" asked Aethelle.
He reached his arms behind him, looking over his shoulder smiling. "Come on."
She laughed and lowered herself to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his chest. He carried her through the hushed city streets as they laughed, illuminated by the glow of streetlamps and the crescent moon. If someone had peered out a window that night, they would have seen a couple walking along the cobblestones, playfully adoring each other. And if someone kept watching their trek through the city streets, they would have seen that the couple was reverently in love.
Ryn and Aethelle danced in the ballroom of her home, performing a simple waltz, as their companions looked on. The morning was still young, but they had much to do to prepare for the Viscount's perversion of a grand ball that very night.
"You're just stepping in the same box over and over," called Aethelle.
"The important part is to just not step on your partner's toes!" exclaimed Ryn. "I've learned that the hard way."
"Yes, Lady Elassyr was none too pleased with you after that ball," the sorceress laughed.
"Remind me again why we couldn't just sneak in?" asked Shadowheart. The two elves stopped their dance for a moment and walked over to their companions.
"The Viscount will undoubtedly want to prevent any interference," began Ryn. "He'll have his staff stationed at any entrance or exit."
"Please do not make me sneak in. I would much rather learn a few new dance moves than skulk," muttered Gale. Aethelle extended a hand to him, and the two took to the floor. He watched her steps and imitated them perfectly, the two mages seemingly floating on the marble floor.
"See! You've got talent, wizard!" chuckled Ryn.
"What's so terrible about being sneaky?" Astarion asked indignantly.
"You don't get caught. Gale will. Something about glowing magical hands would probably be a dead giveaway," remarked Shadowheart. "If anything, I should have snuck in on my own."
"Too risky. If you were caught, you'd be alone, and we'd have no clue where they'd take you off to. The Viscount's home is a maze indeed," added the paladin. "If he didn't kill you on the spot, that is."
The sorceress curtsied to the wizard who bowed in return. Aethelle sprinted over to Shadowheart and grabbed her hand, dragging her to the middle of the ballroom.
"I get the cleric next!" laughed Aethelle, as she quickly sprang her into the waltz.
"Selûne, hear my plea..."
"Perhaps we should have brought Wyll," said Astarion.
"Your companion, the Duke's son, correct? I imagine he would be quite the dancer," laughed Ryn.
"Indeed, I did in fact once watch him wait up all night to dance with our dear sorceress," the rogue said slyly.
"Astarion, do shut up!" yelled the sorceress, who was still waltzing with a terrified cleric.
"What? Now this I did not hear from the camp gossip." Gale's eyes widened at the discovery.
"Ah, ever the head-turner, she is. Do continue," grinned the paladin.
"Shall we kill them?" asked Shadowheart out of earshot of the men. She was beginning to understand the flowing movement, and was reacting much quicker to the sorceress's fluid steps.
"I am definitely considering it," muttered Aethelle. "You're catching on quick, though. You will certainly be the jewel of the night!"
The cleric's cheeks blushed a faint pink. "I don't know about that."
"Oh shush, you! You will be perfect," laughed Aethelle. "And if anyone says anything less, we will definitely kill them."
"I knew we were truly friends," laughed Shadowheart.
"Are you talking shit over there?" shouted Ryn.
"Yes!" the women responded in unison.
"Anyways, as I was saying. Wyll stayed up late one night and asked Aethelle to dance. She happily obliged, but then I watched him lean in for the kiss," laughed Astarion devilishly.
"What! No. My gods," exclaimed Gale. "Surely he knew of you two, right?"
"I do believe he did, the crafty cheat," muttered the vampire.
"I'm surprised he's still alive," roared Ryn with laughter. "You seem like the subtly jealous type."
"I do not!" retorted Astarion. The two men eyed him suspiciously.
"Tell the rest of the story. What did she do?" asked Gale hurriedly, his gaze darting to the sorceress who was looking more and more discerningly at them.
Astarion looked over as well to see the angry mage begin to walk over to him. Panic rose in his voice as he finished the tale. "She turned her head away, and poor Wyll looked like an injured puppy! I do admit I felt a bit bad for him, but I enjoyed the sight too much. When Aethelle walked away, though, she looked utterly mortified," snickered Astarion.
Gale and Ryn laughed at his recounting of events, and laughed harder when Aethelle grabbed Astarion's arm and forcibly pulled him to the center of the ballroom. Shadowheart now joined the two men to the side of the room.
"I heard none of that, please tell me as well," whispered the cleric.
"Astarion, my love," hissed the sorceress through bared teeth, their delicate waltz contrasting the bitter tone of her voice. "Perhaps I should electrocute you yet."
"You're so cute when you threaten me," he teased. Aethelle stared daggers into him. "Oh come now, Wyll was fine. I should have let an arrow fly the second I saw him make a move on you."
"Perhaps you are the jealous type," she replied slyly. As they danced, they moved closer together, effortlessly waltzing around the room. "I have half a mind to make you regret your actions, rogue," whispered Aethelle, inches from his face, through half-lidded eyes.
Astarion leaned closer to whisper in her pointed ear. "Oh sorceress, then you must."
"Just a reminder that if you act like that in the ballroom tonight, your angry ex-lover may disintegrate you both on the spot!" called Ryn.
Aethelle laughed and looked up at Astarion. "Later, then," she smiled. "When we've taken care of any extraneous distractions."
"I will hold you to that, my love." The two ended their dance with a curtsy and bow.
The two women shared the bath in the guest room Shadowheart had been sleeping in. The water was warm and relaxing, despite the day drawing ever more closely to the event that night.
"Are you confident they’ll believe I’m nobility?" asked Shadowheart nervously. She leaned further into the water, trying to hide beneath the ripples.
"Of course they will. Nobility aren’t the most perceptive," smiled Aethelle. "Besides, you are stunning. I mean it!"
Shadowheart chuckled at her friend’s insistence. "I suppose I have no right to be nervous, when so much of this affects you much more heavily than me."
"Oh Shadowheart, we can’t compare our fears," smiled the sorceress. "I am just grateful you’re here by my side."
"You are always so confident. Are you sure you’re not worried?" The cleric began to take out her long ponytail, letting her hair fall into the water.
"I admit, I am terrified. And there’s five of us this time around." Aethelle let out a shaky sigh, lowering herself further into the bath.
"We won’t let you get hurt, I promise." Shadowheart reached a hand over to her, which Aethelle gratefully accepted. The cleric squeezed her hand as they smiled.
The two women sat in the bath awhile longer, gently washing each other’s hair. Shadowheart’s hair was now as silver as the moon itself, and it billowed over the water of the bath. Aethelle gently combed through it with her hands. Once she was done, Shadowheart did the same for the sorceress’s raven locks.
When they were done, they rose from the bath to dry off. Aethelle gestured for Shadowheart to sit at the bedroom vanity, and when she sat, the sorceress took a comb and began brushing the cleric’s hair.
"Look at you," Aethelle said softly.
As Shadowheart peered in the glass of the mirror, she took in how much she had changed. Her black eyeshadow had been washed away in the bath, her long silver hair clinging to her skin. Her emerald eyes pierced her reflection. She gently brushed her fingers along the scar on her face, the scar she had received as a child that fateful night in the woods, when she was taken by Shar’s followers.
"If you don’t ever feel sure of yourself, just come talk to me," murmured the sorceress. "I’ll help remind you of who you are, whenever you need."
"And who am I?" asked the cleric.

He looked up at her. "Exhilarating. Terrifying. Exhausting." His face was a range of emotions as he spoke every word.

"For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried." Astarion faced the headstone again.

"Now I need to figure out who I am." He smiled, turning to gaze at her hazel eyes. "And what I want."

"And what do you want?" asked Aethelle, returning his loving smile.

"You... I want you."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared." He paused for a moment, a grin widening on his face. "You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do."

"I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."

"You won't," said the sorceress firmly. "Whatever comes next, I've got you."

They smiled for a moment more.

"Well," said Astarion, kneeling to the tombstone. "I should probably fix this."

Pulling the elegant dagger Rhapsody from its sheath, he began delicately carving into the stone. He glanced back at the sorceress, who nodded in approval.

Astarion Ancunín

The two elves kneeled for a moment, taking in all that had happened to them thus far. Aethelle closed her eyes and felt the soft breeze on her skin. The city was so quiet tonight, the only sounds coming from the rustling of the grass and the distant patter on cobblestone streets. Astarion finally broke the silence.

"I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer."

She opened her eyes, and her lover turned to her, taking her hands in his.

"If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded," smirked the rogue.

The sorceress blushed and bit her lip. "Sounds good to me."

"You know," began Astarion, "I didn't care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance." His eyes focused on her, wholly and ardently.

"I love you. I love this. And I want it all."

Aethelle's eyes widened as she realized this was the love she was always meant to have, that she always deserved to have. Sitting in front of her was someone who loved her unconditionally, all because she had shown him love in return. Astarion was what Torriel could have been - but Torriel never would have been, in the end. Because every path, every road she trekked, every trial and tribulation she faced before, eventually led to this moment here and now. It didn't quite take away the pain of the past, but a love like this certainly made it easier to bear.

Astarion cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned in to kiss her. She couldn't help but smile into him.

He sat up for a moment, gently pushing her backwards. She lay there as he crawled over her, their lips meeting again, his knee pushing her legs apart. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him deeper into their kiss. When they stopped for a moment to catch their breath, she stared into his crimson eyes.

"I love you too."

Astarion pulled her into him, their lips meeting again. As they kissed and held each other, their hands wandered to undo their clothing, only breaking the kiss to slip their shirts over their heads. Soon they lay bare in the grass of the graveyard, their limbs intertwined, their hands never leaving the other.

His hand found its way down to her slit, gently feeling the softness between her legs. He finally moved from her lips to delicately kiss her cleavage, before settling his tongue on the peak of her breast. She moaned at his touch, craving more. He rewarded her by slipping a finger into her warmth, and her hips rocked carefully against his hand.

Astarion looked to her with half-lidded eyes, adoring the need in her gaze. He took the pad of his thumb and drew it in circles around her clit. She moaned again, and as he buried himself back in her breast, he slipped another digit into her. He worked her delicately, and the sorceress felt her hips move against him without reserve.

"Astarion," she murmured, the blood rushing to her cheeks. His head perked up, and he leaned his face over hers, their lips brushing.

"Yes, my love?"

He kissed her fervently, slowly removing his hand from her sheath. Aethelle groaned into him, outreaching her hand for his girth. She delicately tugged at him, eliciting a moan from him in return. As she ran her fingers along his shaft, she placed the tip of him at her slit. He hungrily thrust into her, the sudden feeling causing the two elves to gasp as they trembled.

It had been some time since they were last together like this. Yet this time, there was no shame, guilt, or deception attached. There was only a boundless love between them. And finally, they both found themselves in the middle of something breathlessly real.

As he rocked back and forth on top of her, he brought his hand back to her clit, rubbing her once more. She sighed into him, feeling her lower body tense. He brought his face away from their kiss for a moment to look at her, and he took in the rose of her skin and her warm hazel eyes.

Aethelle cupped his face with her free hand, returning his adoring gaze. They stared lovingly at each other for a few moments more when the sorceress felt her body tighten, the climax rocking her hips. She gasped as the wave washed over her, and she soon heard Astarion groan as well, feeling his body shuddering with his release.

The two elves rolled to their sides, clinging to each other. They softly kissed as they lay in the cool grass, smiling beneath the moonlight.

"I suppose," began Astarion, running a hand through the sorceress's hair, "that we should leave, before someone arrives and reprimands us for being here."

"Astarion," began the sorceress, suddenly quite serious. She locked her eyes with his and cupped his cheek. "We can go at your own pace. I know there will be harder days than others. That's okay. I don't wish to rush you."

"I know, my dear."

Astarion smiled at her, before kissing her again. She laughed beneath his touch.

"You'll have to damn near carry me back then, I'm exhausted after today!" giggled Aethelle.

The two elves stood, nuzzling into each other, as they gradually dressed themselves. Once they were ready, they embraced and kissed once more, and Astarion took her hand to lead her down the cobble path. As they walked down the stone steps leading to the city streets, Astarion paused with his back to her, and kneeled.

"What is it?" asked Aethelle.

He reached his arms behind him, looking over his shoulder smiling. "Come on."

She laughed and lowered herself to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his chest. He carried her through the hushed city streets as they laughed, illuminated by the glow of streetlamps and the crescent moon. If someone had peered out a window that night, they would have seen a couple walking along the cobblestones, playfully adoring each other. And if someone kept watching their trek through the city streets, they would have seen that the couple was reverently in love.

Ryn and Aethelle danced in the ballroom of her home, performing a simple waltz, as their companions looked on. The morning was still young, but they had much to do to prepare for the Viscount's perversion of a grand ball that very night.

"You're just stepping in the same box over and over," called Aethelle.

"The important part is to just not step on your partner's toes!" exclaimed Ryn. "I've learned that the hard way."

"Yes, Lady Elassyr was none too pleased with you after that ball," the sorceress laughed.

"Remind me again why we couldn't just sneak in?" asked Shadowheart. The two elves stopped their dance for a moment and walked over to their companions.

"The Viscount will undoubtedly want to prevent any interference," began Ryn. "He'll have his staff stationed at any entrance or exit."

"Please do not make me sneak in. I would much rather learn a few new dance moves than skulk," muttered Gale. Aethelle extended a hand to him, and the two took to the floor. He watched her steps and imitated them perfectly, the two mages seemingly floating on the marble floor.

"See! You've got talent, wizard!" chuckled Ryn.

"What's so terrible about being sneaky?" Astarion asked indignantly.

"You don't get caught. Gale will. Something about glowing magical hands would probably be a dead giveaway," remarked Shadowheart. "If anything, I should have snuck in on my own."

"Too risky. If you were caught, you'd be alone, and we'd have no clue where they'd take you off to. The Viscount's home is a maze indeed," added the paladin. "If he didn't kill you on the spot, that is."

The sorceress curtsied to the wizard who bowed in return. Aethelle sprinted over to Shadowheart and grabbed her hand, dragging her to the middle of the ballroom.

"I get the cleric next!" laughed Aethelle, as she quickly sprang her into the waltz.

"Selûne, hear my plea..."

"Perhaps we should have brought Wyll," said Astarion.

"Your companion, the Duke's son, correct? I imagine he would be quite the dancer," laughed Ryn.

"Indeed, I did in fact once watch him wait up all night to dance with our dear sorceress," the rogue said slyly.

"Astarion, do shut up!" yelled the sorceress, who was still waltzing with a terrified cleric.

"What? Now this I did not hear from the camp gossip." Gale's eyes widened at the discovery.

"Ah, ever the head-turner, she is. Do continue," grinned the paladin.

"Shall we kill them?" asked Shadowheart out of earshot of the men. She was beginning to understand the flowing movement, and was reacting much quicker to the sorceress's fluid steps.

"I am definitely considering it," muttered Aethelle. "You're catching on quick, though. You will certainly be the jewel of the night!"

The cleric's cheeks blushed a faint pink. "I don't know about that."

"Oh shush, you! You will be perfect," laughed Aethelle. "And if anyone says anything less, we will definitely kill them."

"I knew we were truly friends," laughed Shadowheart.

"Are you talking shit over there?" shouted Ryn.

"Yes!" the women responded in unison.

"Anyways, as I was saying. Wyll stayed up late one night and asked Aethelle to dance. She happily obliged, but then I watched him lean in for the kiss," laughed Astarion devilishly.

"What! No. My gods," exclaimed Gale. "Surely he knew of you two, right?"

"I do believe he did, the crafty cheat," muttered the vampire.

"I'm surprised he's still alive," roared Ryn with laughter. "You seem like the subtly jealous type."

"I do not!" retorted Astarion. The two men eyed him suspiciously.

"Tell the rest of the story. What did she do?" asked Gale hurriedly, his gaze darting to the sorceress who was looking more and more discerningly at them.

Astarion looked over as well to see the angry mage begin to walk over to him. Panic rose in his voice as he finished the tale. "She turned her head away, and poor Wyll looked like an injured puppy! I do admit I felt a bit bad for him, but I enjoyed the sight too much. When Aethelle walked away, though, she looked utterly mortified," snickered Astarion.

Gale and Ryn laughed at his recounting of events, and laughed harder when Aethelle grabbed Astarion's arm and forcibly pulled him to the center of the ballroom. Shadowheart now joined the two men to the side of the room.

"I heard none of that, please tell me as well," whispered the cleric.

"Astarion, my love," hissed the sorceress through bared teeth, their delicate waltz contrasting the bitter tone of her voice. "Perhaps I should electrocute you yet."

"You're so cute when you threaten me," he teased. Aethelle stared daggers into him. "Oh come now, Wyll was fine. I should have let an arrow fly the second I saw him make a move on you."

"Perhaps you are the jealous type," she replied slyly. As they danced, they moved closer together, effortlessly waltzing around the room. "I have half a mind to make you regret your actions, rogue," whispered Aethelle, inches from his face, through half-lidded eyes.

Astarion leaned closer to whisper in her pointed ear. "Oh sorceress, then you must."

"Just a reminder that if you act like that in the ballroom tonight, your angry ex-lover may disintegrate you both on the spot!" called Ryn.

Aethelle laughed and looked up at Astarion. "Later, then," she smiled. "When we've taken care of any extraneous distractions."

"I will hold you to that, my love." The two ended their dance with a curtsy and bow.

The two women shared the bath in the guest room Shadowheart had been sleeping in. The water was warm and relaxing, despite the day drawing ever more closely to the event that night.

"Are you confident they’ll believe I’m nobility?" asked Shadowheart nervously. She leaned further into the water, trying to hide beneath the ripples.

"Of course they will. Nobility aren’t the most perceptive," smiled Aethelle. "Besides, you are stunning. I mean it!"

Shadowheart chuckled at her friend’s insistence. "I suppose I have no right to be nervous, when so much of this affects you much more heavily than me."

"Oh Shadowheart, we can’t compare our fears," smiled the sorceress. "I am just grateful you’re here by my side."

"You are always so confident. Are you sure you’re not worried?" The cleric began to take out her long ponytail, letting her hair fall into the water.

"I admit, I am terrified. And there’s five of us this time around." Aethelle let out a shaky sigh, lowering herself further into the bath.

"We won’t let you get hurt, I promise." Shadowheart reached a hand over to her, which Aethelle gratefully accepted. The cleric squeezed her hand as they smiled.

The two women sat in the bath awhile longer, gently washing each other’s hair. Shadowheart’s hair was now as silver as the moon itself, and it billowed over the water of the bath. Aethelle gently combed through it with her hands. Once she was done, Shadowheart did the same for the sorceress’s raven locks.

When they were done, they rose from the bath to dry off. Aethelle gestured for Shadowheart to sit at the bedroom vanity, and when she sat, the sorceress took a comb and began brushing the cleric’s hair.

"Look at you," Aethelle said softly.

As Shadowheart peered in the glass of the mirror, she took in how much she had changed. Her black eyeshadow had been washed away in the bath, her long silver hair clinging to her skin. Her emerald eyes pierced her reflection. She gently brushed her fingers along the scar on her face, the scar she had received as a child that fateful night in the woods, when she was taken by Shar’s followers.

"If you don’t ever feel sure of yourself, just come talk to me," murmured the sorceress. "I’ll help remind you of who you are, whenever you need."

"And who am I?" asked the cleric.