The Last Light Inn has been a momentary sanctuary, providing you a place to find shelter and reprieve from the curse that has haunted these lands. But now, you find that its protection only reaches so far, for a devil greets you from within.

Raphael begins to circle you and your companions, and you notice Karlach's violent stare directed straight at him. Most reminders of Avernus are unwelcome to her, you imagine.

But Raphael pays no mind to her, because his eyes are solely on Astarion. "A little bird has told me that there's something you want to ask me."

Your head whips to Astarion, and immediately, you mouth, No.

But he ignores you. "I do. I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal?" Intrigued, Raphael crosses his arms. "If you're hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey…" He pauses, his delighted eyes dancing to you. "Though you might have gotten a similar, if not milder taste from dear Lilith herself."

You shift, glancing at the floors.

"She doesn't look like it, does she?" Raphael's smirk is full of disdain. "I had hoped you'd be a little more… scaly and vicious, descendant of Adamek."

"Adamek?" Karlach repeats in question.

"Oh, Karlach." He smiles pleasantly at her, as if they were simply old friends. "As a resident—or, ex-resident, shall I say, of the Hells, you must be closely familiar with this dragon controversy."

"I can't say I've heard of it," she replies.

"Controversy? No. It's a ridiculous, ancient conspiracy," you say dismissively.

"Is it?" Raphael takes a quick step towards you, and with a snap, summons a flame on his pointer finger.

You find that your jaw slackens at the sight of that fire upon his fingertip, and you immediately get the sense of a strange… kinship.

"Now, Lilith." He watches you intently. "I am deeply curious about what that makes you feel."

"Enough," Astarion barks. "This is serious business, devil. My business."

Slowly, Raphael peels his attention away from you, and extinguishes his flame. "I'm sure. Go on."

"My old—" Astarion falters, briefly. "Well, a long time ago, someone carved infernal runes into my back. They are a fragment of a contract, and I'd like to know what the full contract says."

You can tell Raphael's disinterest as he smiles, feigning thought. "Hmm…"

"Don't play games, Raphael," you warn.

After a beat, to Astarion, he continues, "The contract—it's something very important to your master. I could, of course, give you all the gory details." Raphael's devious eyes dart to yours. "But what will you give me for this information, flaming sorcerer?"

"What will I give you?" Your eyes dart sharply towards Astarion. "This isn't my bargain, Raphael."

Raphael only smiles, and then says to Astarion, "There is a matter of payment, of course. Let me… think about it, and get back to you."

"You'll get back to me?" Astarion exclaims. "This is important, devil. When?"

"Don't worry, I'm quite… motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories, and I think yours might be truly exquisite."

His final glance lands on you. And when he vanishes, you find that you feel a longing for the flames he leaves behind.

Your head spins when you wake from your trance, and you summon a gentle flame upon your palm on the bed beside you. The warmth brings you stability as you wait for these spins to pass.

"What use is a dining table if you do not dine?" Astarion asks, and you jolt at his presence behind you. You hadn't sensed him crawl into bed at all. Running a hand over your face, you turn to him.

He is on his side, shirtless, facing you. A hand reaches up to caress your cheek. "I'm afraid you'll be left bloodless if I keep drinking from you, darling, since you refuse to replenish yourself."

"Then don't drink from me. You don't need to."

He dips his face towards yours and captures your lips. "There are so many things I don't need to do." His teeth are sharp as they scrape against your lower lip before he pulls back. "But what you need is to feed."

"I've never seen you care so much."

"You keep wounding me."

You truly wonder what would hurt him anymore, but you have a good sense at what would spike his temper. "Perhaps you should be my sustenance."

His eyes narrow in calculation, but you push him to his back before he can respond. The sheets fall off of you when you throw a thigh over his hips and straddle him easily. "Because you can be." Slowly, your face inches down to his neck. "If you let me bite you."

His grip tightens on your arm, a sign for you to halt. "Cheeky, love."

But you keep going until you can slide your nose down the column of his neck. "Why? You said you would let me." You're in a thin little satin nightgown, and when you let your hips grind down on him, you feel everything. "Remember? When you had fucked me in the dungeons—you boasted about your Ascended blood… and how I would be just like you…"

The moment your teeth graze his throat, you're swiftly flipped to your back.

"A master must give consent for their spawn to drink their blood," he reminds you, a hand tight on your arm, the other clamped down on your waist.

"Then consent." Your eyes harden in a challenge. "Or do you even know what that word means?"

He chuckles. "Keep taunting me, love. You know what it does to me."

You can feel exactly what it's doing to him. "If I asked for you to get off of me, would you? Or would you just compel me to be quiet instead?"

His nose nudges yours. "I hate it when you're quiet."

"Okay. Shall I scream for you to let me go?"

"You should always be screaming, darling. You're the most beautiful when you're screaming, yelling, and bursting into flames."

When his fingers begin to crawl down your hips, you grab onto them. "Let me go."

"Let you go? But you started this." His nails scratch down your arm. "I promise, I'm in no mood to make love."

You feel the tear of the satin before you hear it. The fabric snaps harshly against your skin as it gives to his strength. But this time, the pain rattles you, and before you can control it, your hand briefly ignites with flames. Astarion quickly rises to his knees to avoid the blast, but from the dip in his expression, you know your flames caught him. There's a mark on his shoulder that's darkening.

He glances at the burn, and prods at the skin with a few fingers. "Fascinating."

You rise up to sit, digging your back against the headboard. "I didn't mean—"

"Hellfire," he murmurs. "You know, I can't find a damned thing about it. Have your ancestors burned their literature? What a crime."

You don't say anything.

"It is hellfire, isn't it?"

Your mother had always preached that it wasn't. She had never wanted your family tree to have any relation to the Hells. But over the years, there's a large part of you that has been convinced that she might have been untruthful.

"I—"

His command catches you off guard. "Palms together, and immobile."

Immediately, your hands clap together, and you can't pry them apart. He grabs them and holds them above you against the headboard.

When he speaks, your eyes idiotically dart to his. "Cast fireball."

You feel the coil of the compulsion tightening. "No, Astarion—the manor would burn—"

"Cast fireball."

But you can't. Not with your palms stuck together, your fingers flat, and useless. The compulsion tightens to nothingness, and dissipates.

"I thought so." He grabs your calf and pulls, so your back slides from the headboard to the bed. You wince when your skull bounces onto the pillows. He keeps your hands above your head, this time pressing them into the pillows. "Oh how beautifully disarmed you are."

It's pointless to struggle, so you lie limp. You refuse to let any tears slip out, even though your powerlessness drags you to depths you know you'll drown in. When he begins to kiss your neck, you ask him through just a whisper, "Why won't you let me bite you? Why keep me as a spawn?"

His lips pause, and he straightens to look at you. "I am the first Vampire Ascendant. Who knows what my blood would do to you? It's a risk I won't take."

"You're a liar. Tell me the truth."

He smiles at your accusation as his fingers continue to pull open the torn fabric on your body. "Darling, you hardly know how to feed yourself properly. That kind of freedom would just ruin you."

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