T/W: Implied S/A, child abuse
Over the next few days, the party investigates the odd case of Art Cullugh, a bard who's in a strange catatonic state continuously mentioning the name Thaniel. With the help of Halsin, they discover that Thaniel was the spirit of the land before it was engulfed in the shadow curse. Only Thaniel can break the curse and Halsin deduces that Art knows where he is. Their investigation unveils Art's last order as a Flaming Fist mercenary: a mission to explore the House of Healing. It's their only lead, so they follow it.
Journeying once more through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, bathed in the comforting radiance bestowed by the pixie and Isobel, the party soon identifies the familiar structure as the one where they encountered Galure Elaveer. Sensing Delphie's tense demeanor, Astarion promptly intertwines their hands, offering a reassuring squeeze—his silent vow that no one will touch her again.
Upon entering the building, they witness something truly gutwrenching—Arabella's parents lie motionless on two cots, being 'tended' to by Sister Lidwin, a young undead trader. Nobody's heart breaks more than Delphie's who had hope that the young tiefling's parents were still alive. A single tear trails down her cheek before she quickly wipes it away, hoping nobody notices.
More determined than ever, Delphie straightens her posture and leads the party further into the decaying building. Patches of dried blood and dirt mar the once pristine tile flooring, while unkempt mattresses, bedrolls, and pillows lie scattered across the space. In a particular room, their gaze falls upon a skeleton resting on a bedroll, its finger adorned with a ring identical to the one discovered the day before, emanating a similar energy.
Showing the ring to Delphie, he witnesses a soft smile spread across her face as she delicately slides it onto his finger. Yet, even in that moment of connection, the sadness lingers in her eyes. Almost immediately, the two feel closer than ever as if they're sharing the same body.
Pressing forward, still oblivious to the rings' complete effects, the party approaches a room that unfolds the most disturbing sight a few of them have witnessed. A horrifying creature, a fusion of undead and construct elements, employs makeshift clawed hands to gruesomely extract a poor man's eyes from his sockets. The macabre spectacle triggers a descent into a dark emotional abyss for Delphie.
Astarion suddenly perceives the turmoil within her – the stomach-churning lurch, the vice-like grip of her hands nearly drawing blood with tightly clenched nails, and most terrifying, the struggle for air. As a vampire, breathing holds no necessity for him; he's already dead. Yet, the inexplicable sensation washes over him. Hastily, he seeks out the wood elf's hand once again, providing a grounding anchor that finally steadies Delphie from the harrowing turmoil.
The grotesque creature imparts the 'teachings of Shar' to the undead girls surrounding him. Aware that a confrontation would be formidable, Astarion opts for a diplomatic approach. Persuading the creature to allow the girls to practice their teachings on him, the party is taken aback when the unconventional plan succeeds. The undead girls, with surprising compliance, relentlessly stab the creature until he ceases his movements.
A smirk plays on Astarion's lips as he chuckles, finding amusement in the unexpected turn of events – reveling in the irony of witnessing 'minions turning on their masters.'
Discovering a battered lute in the possession of the defeated creature, Delphie senses it might hold the key to awakening Art. Returning to Halsin, she skillfully plays along with the song the comatose man had been incessantly singing. Miraculously, the man stirs, roused from his catatonic state. It is only then that Halsin realizes Thaniel is still trapped in the Shadowfell.
Halsin calls upon the rest of the group to safeguard the gate he creates, a portal through which Thaniel can be retrieved from the clutches of the dark realm. As the party valiantly holds their ground against the relentless onslaught of undead creatures, Halsin eventually returns, bearing the limp body of Thaniel – a beacon of hope retrieved from the ominous depths of the Shadowfell.
Engaging in a whimsical game of hide and seek and skirmishing with the mischievous spirit's 'shadow friends', the party perseveres until they successfully convince Oliver to reunite with Thaniel, restoring the soul to its complete state. Gratitude emanates from Halsin as Thaniel imparts the crucial message: to restore the land, they must confront and vanquish the looming threat of Ketheric Thorm.
In preparation for the impending challenging battle, the party resolves to assist Shadowheart in completing the Gauntlet of Shar Trials, a necessary step for her ascension to become a Dark Justiciar. The trials consist of three distinct challenges: the Soft-Step trial, the Self-Same trial, and the Faith-Leap trial. Returning to the Sharran dungeon beneath the Thorm mausoleum, they traverse the purple-hued temple once more, the echoes of their footsteps resonating in the sacred space.
Their journey leads them to a tall wooden door atop a set of steps, just before which lies a plaque in the ground inscribed with the words 'Her Most Vaunted Treasure.' The enigmatic atmosphere hints at the mysteries that await within the gauntlet, setting the stage for the trials that will test their skills, unity, and resolve.
"This must be it," Shadowheart utters softly, taking a deep breath. Delphie offers reassurance, placing a hand on her arm accompanied by a soft smile. The half-elf gathers her resolve, drawing in one more deep breath before venturing inside.
Through the doors is a large golden chandelier that seems to have fallen to the ground ages ago. The stone ground beneath it is nothing but rubble. The party navigates the debris, their footsteps echoing through the vast space. As they explore, they observe multiple skeletons and a toppled pillar strewn across the area. Toward the back of the room, a stone wall separates the space, featuring several metal cell doors. Positioned between two of these doors is a small circular platform, adorned with a statue of Shar holding a sacrificial bowl.
As the rest of the group scrutinizes the room, Shadowheart cautiously advances toward the statue. An inscription on the stone monument unveils the nature of this trial – one of stealth and infiltration. With a subtle wince, the half-elf retrieves a dagger and makes a deliberate cut on her hand. Clenching her fist, she observes as a few drops of her blood fall into the sacrificial bowl at the base of the statue.
The room holds its breath, an eerie stillness settling over the space as the cell doors open and the trial begins to unfold.
As Shadowheart reveals the skills required for the trial, Delphie steps forward with confidence. "Gale and I have been working on a new spell that might prove useful," she announces, sharing a knowing smile with her fellow spellcaster.
"Rifstejarwim," Delphie utters, synchronizing her incantation with Gale's. Almost instantly, everyone in the party, except for Lae'zel and Karlach, vanishes from sight.
"Where'd everyone go?" Karlach inquires, raising a brow as she scans the now seemingly empty room.
"We're right here," Astarion interjects with an exasperated sigh.
"What? Why can't I be invisible?" Karlach questions, perplexed by the sudden disappearance of the others.
"Chk. Is it not obvious? We are liabilities. My armor is too loud," Lae'zel explains with flared nostrils, offering a practical rationale for their exclusion from the magical concealment.
Karlach furrows her brows, inspecting her own hide armor. "Mine isn't."
"I was not talking about your armor," Lae'zel clarifies, emphasizing the point.
"Darling, I think what the gith is trying to say is...how do I put this kindly?" Karlach glares toward the spot where the vampire spawn was originally standing, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're too loud."
"What? I can be quiet—"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this spell only lasts for a minute," Gale interjects.
Delphie releases her concentration on the spell, a breath escaping her that she didn't realize she was holding, revealing herself along with Wyll and Astarion. "Maybe we should try again," she suggests. Gale follows suit, breaking his concentration with a facepalm as both he and Shadowheart become visible once more.
Just as Gale prepares to recast his spell, Delphie interrupts. "Wait, we need a plan."
"Knowing Shar, there will definitely be traps in there," Shadowheart points out.
"Okay, then Astarion and I can stealth ahead," the wood elf suggests, proposing a strategy to navigate the potential traps with stealth.
"I have a question. How are we supposed to know where everyone is if we're all invisible?" Astarion queries, crossing his arms over his chest. Despite his typically carefree demeanor, Astarion's expression lightens at the sight of Delphie's adorable smile as she grabs his hand.
"Do we all have to go? Wouldn't it be easier if just you three do this?" Wyll proposes, emphasizing a valid point.
The trio exchanges glances and nonchalantly shrugs their shoulders.
"I don't see why not," Delphie replies, seizing Shadowheart's hand with her free one.
Gale gives the trio a genuine smile. "Allow me," he says, waving his hands and uttering an incantation. With that, the invisible cloak once again envelops the trio, rendering them unseen as they prepare to navigate the maze awaiting them.
Each step is taken with methodical precision as the trio navigates the maze, acutely aware of multiple shadows patrolling the area. Astarion leads them to the very last door at the end. However, within the first few steps inside, the two elves notice a piece of the stone floor slightly elevated in front of them. Quick to react, Delphie places her hands on the pale elf's hips to ensure she doesn't lose him while he skillfully disarms the trap.
Even without seeing his face, Delphie senses Astarion's flirtatious smirk as he glances back at her during the delicate task. A reciprocal smirk graces her lips, but her amusement dissipates as she realizes the imminent challenge: they won't make it through the maze before Gale's invisibility spell ends.
Seizing a fleeting opportunity when the shadows aren't looking, Delphie willingly discards her invisibility. In a deft incantation and with intensified concentration, she weaves her own version of the spell, her scales radiating a brighter glow than before just before she vanishes again. Her hope lingers that this heightened magical effort will extend the duration of the invisibility spell, providing the group with a precious advantage in the complex maze.
After successfully disarming the trap, the party proceeds cautiously. A sudden halt by Astarion startles both Delphie and Shadowheart, almost causing a collision. Their attention is drawn to a shadow directly in front of them. With bated breath, they freeze, hoping against detection. A collective sigh of relief escapes them as the creature pivots in the opposite direction, unaware of their presence.
After skillfully disarming a few more traps, the party reaches the culmination of the maze, greeted by a large gated door. Astarion deftly picks the lock, swinging the gate open. Upon entering, Delphie releases her invisibility spell as Shadowheart approaches a glowing purple orb nestled in an oversized version of the sacrificial bowl near the maze's entrance.
Mirroring the one obtained after defeating the orthon, Shadowheart gently secures the orb in her bag. Intrigued, she touches the radiant center of the large bowl, surprising the elves as she is instantly transported back to the maze's start. Her call echoes from the other side, prompting Astarion and Delphie to share determined looks. They interlock hands once more, ready to follow suit.
Further down the hall, a similar door stands atop a set of stairs, marked by a plaque reading 'Her Most Hallowed Mercy.' Delphie shivers at the name, anticipating the room's mysteries. Upon entering, they find a Shar statue with a sacrificial bowl at its center. Shadowheart, unfazed, approaches and adds some of her blood to the bowl.
Glancing up at the wooden doors that open of their own accord, Shadowheart imparts the teachings: "The Dark Lady teaches us that we are our own worst enemy, much of the time. Her embrace will elude us until we shed that which holds us back."
These words resonate deeply with the elven duo. Astarion and Delphie recognize the truth behind the teachings, acknowledging their tendencies to be their own adversaries. Astarion's self-pity and Delphie's self-imposed pressure weigh heavily on them. This becomes their opportunity for change, or at least that's what Shadowheart believes.
Upon entering through the second set of doors, a sense of unease settles over the party. Astarion keenly observes a figure remarkably similar to Delphie concealing themselves at the top of a lofty balcony. The telltale signs of an ambush trigger their seasoned instincts, and the party quickly decides to employ their well-honed strategies.
Opting for a stealthy approach, they decide to survey the remaining look-alikes and silently advance upon them through the shadows. The air becomes charged with anticipation as the party readies themselves to navigate the impending ambush with a combination of cunning and skill.
Delphie, displaying a masterful finesse in stealth, approaches her mirror image from behind. Extending her hands gracefully, she utters the incantation, "Ethimir cha'sidic." In response, her mirror self swiftly pivots, eyes ablaze with flaming red intensity. However, before the flames can fully manifest, they dissipate, revealing a momentary pause.
The mirrored wood elf emits a sinister chuckle, two black snakes coiled around its wrists. Adorned in the initial dress Delphie wore at the beginning of their adventure, the mirrored reflection stands clad in full black, a stark contrast to Delphie's faith in the power of nature. Even its scales bear a deep shade of black.
"You think you deserve him? You think you can fix him? You can't even fix yourself!" it taunts with a smirk. Delphie, gripped by fear, looks up. The mirrored image continues its barrage, "You're pathetic. You can't even look at the man who used your body for his own pleasure without seizing up like a frightened animal."
The words cut deep, echoing the internal struggles and insecurities Delphie has wrestled with. The psychological battle intertwines with the physical one, as the party confronts not only mirror images but the reflections of their own fears and vulnerabilities within the shadows of the darkened room.
Behind them, Astarion confronts his mirrored counterpart. "My, my. You know it won't be long before that beautiful ranger of yours is dead," the reflection sneers. An enraged shout escapes the vampire elf as he lunges at his mirror, but the look-alike deftly vanishes in the shadows and reappears behind him. "Your freedom. Your lover. It will all be gone soon enough."
Astarion, fueled by anger, charges after his mirrored self once more. However, the elusive reflection sidesteps his attack, this time inflicting a slicing blow across his arm.
The vampire spawn's mirrored self forcefully pushes him to the ground, causing his blade to skitter across the stone. "Cazador's still alive. You won't be able to protect her, will you? After all, you are just a spawn," the look-alike taunts, conjuring a similar dagger and aiming for Astarion's throat. Swiftly evading the attack, Astarion lunges for his own dagger, determined to regain control of the situation.
As Astarion grasps his weapon, his mirrored counterpart strikes him in the leg. The painful blow is accompanied by a haunting declaration, "She'll just be another victim, and you'll be a slave to Cazador once again."
The taunt ignites a flame behind Astarion's eyes, and an animalistic sound escapes his throat—a trait perhaps acquired from being around Delphie so often. With a single, swift blow, Astarion witnesses his mirrored self dissolve under the impact of his blade. However, as the victorious sensation courses through him, he suddenly feels a burning sensation in his side.
Astarion's crimson eyes swiftly dart toward Delphie. The wood elf bears the impact of a bolt of fire, grinding her teeth as her mirrored counterpart approaches her methodically. "You can't protect him. You can't protect any of them. You're weak," taunts Delphie's mirror, its sinister expression growing.
The mirrored wood elf summons its own version of Vesper and Pax, their tails rattling ominously as they advance toward Delphie. "Once he realizes you're weak, he'll leave you. He despises weaklings," the mirrored self declares. In the face of this sinister revelation, Delphie closes her eyes, grappling with the unsettling truth echoed by her mirrored counterpart.
Delphie's eyes abruptly open at the sound of a flung arrow. The projectile pierces through both snakes, and her gaze shifts to Astarion, who lowers his bow. "Darling, now's your chance."
Almost on the verge of tears, Delphie realizes that, once again, in the midst of battle, she's revealing vulnerability, yet there he stands, protecting her just as she was about to accept her impending fate.
A surge of confidence courses through Delphie at his words, and her scales begin to glow. "Hemata xtirl," she says, grasping the mirrored arm and infusing it with necrotic green energy that drains away its vitality. As the reflection disintegrates from her touch, Delphie feels her burns healing. "No, he won't," she whispers to herself, the moment serving as a testament to her strength and the unwavering support she finds in Astarion during the darkest moments of their shared battles.
Her eyes widen as Astarion starts to grab his stomach and lose balance. She rushes over to him as the battle finally ends. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, darling. I just feel a little weak."
"Do you need blood?" Delphie asks in concern. "Dretri, when's the last time you ate?" She searches his eyes for an answer. "You haven't eaten since we got here. Astarion, why didn't you tell me? I would've given you blood."
The vampire spawn sighs. "I know, but you're going through a lot right now, darling."
"So are you."She gazes up at him, not with anger but with a profound sense of sadness. "I can't believe I didn't think about it before." Her eyes shift to the gash on his arm. "And you're bleeding badly." Commencing her healing incantation, she realizes her magic falls short and he's still fairly injured. "Both Shadowheart and I are drained from the battle," the wood elf observes, looking over at the half-elf.
"I'll handle the last trial by myself," determination sparks in Shadowheart's eyes as she glances at her companions. "If you will wait for me, we can-" Her words are abruptly halted by the icy clasp of a gauntleted hand seizing her arm from the concealment of shadows.
Without hesitation, Delphie springs into action, swiftly reacting to the half-elf's struggle to extricate herself. With a deft motion, the ranger draws her bow and lets loose an arrow into the darkness, aiming to strike the elusive creature restraining Shadowheart. The unmistakable sound of the arrow finding its mark resonates, causing the grip on the half-elf's arm to slacken enough for her to break free.
The hollow room resounds with the ominous clatter as a group of death shepherds materializes from the shadows, encircling their unsuspecting prey. Trailing behind are two hooded figures, their malevolent grins faintly illuminated by the eerie purple flames lighting up the room. The shorter figure unveils her face, allowing cascading brown curls to spill over her shoulders. An evil smirk creeps across her face, intensifying as her gaze fixates on Delphie. Strikingly resembling an older version of the wood elf, the woman exudes a chilling aura, her emerald eyes void of the warmth that radiates from Delphie's loving gaze.
As Delphie's gaze intersects with hers, a sudden tension grips her as she drops to her knees in fear, only to find herself enveloped within a protective circle formed by her weary companions. A quick survey of their faces reveals a blend of determination and anger, reflected in their eyes and mirrored by the pronounced snarls that curl at their lips. They recognize the identity of the woman before them, completely aware of the malevolent actions she has inflicted upon their leader. Despite their exhaustion, an unwavering resolve emanates from each of them – a collective determination to shield and defend their cherished leader.
"Delphnye, my dear, I've missed you so much," the woman starts, a deceptive facade of concern masking the wicked smirk that persists on her lips.
"Cut the bullshit. We know what you've done to Del," Wyll interjects, his hands gripping the rapier's hilt with unwavering intensity.
"I can make this very easy and merciful for all of you if you just release my daughter." Her voice drips with condescension, challenging Astarion to restrain the seething desire to unleash his fury upon her.
Delphie doesn't deserve this. She has tirelessly worked to distance herself from the shadows of her past, diligently evolving into a person of virtue. She vowed to him that together they would take down Cazador, granting him the freedom he deserves, and now he is equally determined to reciprocate that commitment to her. Yet, in their current state of vulnerability, they are far from their peak. Fatigue weighs them down, wounds demand healing, and attacking prematurely poses the peril of jeopardizing them all, especially her.
The ranger embodied strength, arguably the pinnacle of their group's resilience. Despite enduring the depths of torment, she never shied away from extending a helping hand to those in need. Her altruism stemmed from a desire to spare others the suffering she had endured. Yet, standing in the shadows, confronting the echoes of past pain and torment, a sudden wave of panic enveloped her. Witnessing her in such a vulnerable state tugged at the heartstrings of all who knew her.
While he had often found her penchant for heroism annoying, he now realizes he would much rather witness her engaged in daring acts than overcome by panic.
"Allatou," intones the taller robed figure, a sinister anticipation in his voice, "May I?" He unveils his own hood, revealing hungry black eyes fixated on Delphie.
Instinctively, the wood elf recoils, inadvertently finding herself backed against Astarion's legs. At the sight of the man, Astarion feels an uncontrollable surge of rage. It's Galure—the one who assaulted his badass ranger. Astarion is repulsed by the act, as he has always refused to force himself upon anyone. Nobody deserves to go through that, especially her. Oblivious to his companions' shouts, he is consumed by a blind fury, launching himself at Galure with unrestrained determination.
"Madv palwzyr," Galure intones with a smirk, extending his hand. Astarion, poised to strike, suddenly halts, his daggers slipping from his grasp as a chilling numbness seizes him. Only his eyes retain mobility, scanning his surroundings. The death shepherds have unleashed their assault on the rest of the party, and each companion is locked in a desperate struggle against their assailants. Even Delphie, shaken but resilient, manages to muster enough awareness to defend herself.
The elf standing over him seizes the pale elf's jaw, applying pressure with a sinister, low chuckle. "What's this?" Although Astarion can't move his eyelids, he senses them attempting to narrow. "A vampire spawn? Pathetic." The dark eyes of the high elf scrutinize his motionless figure, shifting his gaze between Delphie and her tormentor. "Oh, I see. You fell for Delphnye's pure heart too, didn't you?" Slowly, the feeling returns to Astarion's fingers, allowing him to subtly wiggle them out of their paralysis. "Well, let me tell you, spawn. She's mine, and I can't wait to-"
Galure's sentence is abruptly halted by the force of Astarion's fist. As the dark cleric staggers back with a low chuckle, the vampire spawn swiftly reclaims his daggers, lunging at his assailant once more. "Don't you dare lay a hand on her, you fucking bastard!" A quick evasion sees Galure dodging the blades, initiating a dance of combat between the two.
Driven by an overwhelming fury, Astarion knocks Galure to the ground, his senses drowned in the heat of battle. "Weuruz qfirvuilw," the elf incants with a smirk. Suddenly, Astarion collapses onto his back, pure radiant Bhaalists taking turns stabbing him, their luminescence inflicting agonizing wounds.
"ASTARION!" Delphie's scream reverberates through the room as she witnesses Galure's spirit guardians assaulting the vampire spawn. "Vesper, kodont!"
Galure detects the snake just in time, crushing her beneath his heel. A profound sense of loss grips Delphie as the snake goes limp, falling lifeless to the ground. An inhumane scream escapes her throat, accompanied by a potent pulse of energy that annihilates the remaining death shepherds. In a matter of seconds, her entire world crumbles.
Most of her companions lie unconscious, and even Lae'zel, relentless in her attack against Allatou, succumbs to defeat. The fabric of Delphie's reality crumbles within mere seconds, leaving her to confront the overwhelming devastation that surrounds her.
Galure's smirk widens as he advances toward the distraught ranger. "Aren't you a little old to still be playing with snakes, my dear?"
With the last remnants of his strength, Astarion engages in an agonizing army crawl toward them. "Leave her...alone...bastard," he gasps, each movement eliciting a wince of pain.
The heart-wrenching screams and cries of the wood elf bring tears to Astarion's eyes. Helplessly, he watches as she desperately kicks and punches Galure, her futile resistance akin to that of a child. The dark cleric effortlessly lifts her, slinging her over his shoulder. Astarion, overwhelmed with a sense of inadequacy, realizes he can't protect her. Utterly powerless, he witnesses her being taken away, a haunting realization that she is now lost to him and his silent vow has been broken.