As Delphie stirs from her slumber, she finds herself nestled securely in Astarion's arms. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest creates a cocoon of comfort around her.
As she nuzzles into his chest, the wood elf inadvertently rouses Astarion from his dreams. His eyes flicker open, and a soft smile plays on his lips as he meets her gaze. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Delphie can't help but marvel at the sense of safety and belonging she finds in the vampire spawn's embrace.
The shared smile speaks volumes. It's a brief respite, a stolen moment of peace before the challenge that awaits them outside the confines of the tent.
With a gentle separation, they reluctantly leave the warmth of the makeshift bed and begin the process of getting ready for the day. The rustle of armor and the clink of weapons serve as a stark reminder of the impending battle that awaits them. Despite the gravity of the situation, there is a newfound strength in the unity of the party.
As Delphie and Astarion emerge from the tent, they join their companions who are already gathered, preparing for the challenge ahead. The camaraderie within the group is evident—a shared determination to face the dangers that lie ahead. The light of the protective dome illuminates the diverse group of adventurers, casting a sense of unity that transcends individual differences.
A call from Shadowheart interrupts the comfortable silence between Delphie and Astarion as he fastens the straps of his armor. Delphie turns her attention to the half-elf, meeting her gaze with a mixture of weariness and determination.
"How are you-" Shadowheart begins, her keen eyes assessing Delphie for any signs of lingering injuries. The concern in her voice is evident as she seeks to gauge the ranger's physical and mental well-being.
Delphie responds with a sad smile, a reflection of the inner turmoil she carries. "I'm not-" she starts, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I don't feel like myself, but the fight with Ketheric isn't going to be easy." Her eyes briefly flicker back to Astarion, a silent acknowledgment of the support she finds in him. "But a wise person once told me we're in this together."
"I'm pretty sure that person was you," Shadowheart remarks, a touch of amusement in her voice. Delphie rolls her eyes playfully, the banter providing a brief moment of levity in the midst of their preparations.
Shadowheart shifts to a more serious demeanor. She gives Delphie a soft smile that carries an underlying gravity. "As much as I'd love to sit here and talk, we have more pressing issues at hand." Delphie nods in agreement, acknowledging the urgency of the situation.
A sigh escapes the cleric's lips. "I never became a Dark Justiciar." The admission hangs in the air, revealing a layer of vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior of the half-elf.
Delphie's eyes widen in shock. "But Shadowheart-"
"We found out there was one more challenge ahead... I had to defeat the Nightsong," Shadowheart explains, her voice carrying a weight of revelation. Delphie, still processing the information, looks at her with a furrowed brow, a mixture of confusion and concern evident in her gaze.
"Only it turns out the Nightsong isn't a relic... she's a person. Her name is Aylin, the daughter of Selune. And it also turns out my whole life devoted to Shar has been a lie," Shadowheart continues, her tone tinged with disbelief and betrayal.
"I'm not following-" Delphie starts, trying to grasp the intricacies of the revelation.
"Lady Shar has altered my memories. Aylin said she would explain more after the battle. I betrayed my goddess, and now she's angry. I can feel it," Shadowheart confesses, a pained expression crossing her face as she holds her cursed hand. Delphie immediately reaches out and grabs the half-elf's shoulder in concern.
"I'm alright. It just hurts a little more than usual," Shadowheart assures, managing a reassuring smile. "Aylin promised to guide me in the way of Selune. A part of it feels so wrong, abandoning my goddess like I did."
Delphie offers words of support, "If it's any consolation, I think you did the right thing."
"I hope you're right." Shadowheart takes a deep breath, attempting to reconcile the conflicting emotions within her. "Well, enough about me. We have a parasite to get rid of. The Harpers already got a head start toward the Towers. We should leave soon."
With a nod of agreement, Delphie and Shadowheart turn their attention back to the impending mission.
Astarion, already clad in battle-ready attire, approaches Delphie with a confident smile. As he draws near, Delphie turns around to face him, her expression serious and determined. A flicker of concern crosses Astarion's face as he notices the shift in her demeanor.
"Did you guys...was my mother there?" Delphie's question, laden with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, finally spills out.
"She was nowhere to be found in the prison...at least in the area we were in. Our main priority was rescuing you, darling," Astarion reassures her, his tone carrying a sense of understanding for the weight of the question.
Delphie nods. "Good. I want to kill her myself." Her words are laced with a determination that resonates with the gravity of their situation.
Astarion, recognizing the seriousness of her intent, nods in agreement. As he begins to bring Pax to her wrist, Delphie looks at him in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"I know how much you miss Vesper. I think you need Pax more than I do," Astarion explains, his attempt to offer her comfort evident in his gesture.
Delphie gently pushes his arm away, her expression carrying a mix of gratitude and sadness. "That's not fair to Pax. I appreciate it, dretri, but he's bound to you now."
As she stands beside Astarion, she can't shake the sensation of the absence of Vesper around her wrist. The familiar weight of her snake companion is noticeably missing, leaving her arm feeling strangely bare. Determined to fill the void and equip Astarion with another skill for the impending battle, Delphie decides it's time to teach him another crucial trick.
"Before we go, I have one last trick to teach you," she announces, catching Astarion's attention.
He arches an eyebrow playfully, a smirk forming on his lips. "Darling, if this is some-"
"Just close your eyes," Delphie interrupts, her tone shifting to a more stern yet playful voice.
Astarion, intrigued and slightly amused, complies and does as he's told. Delphie positions herself next to him, her hand resting gently on his chest. "I'm going to show you how to connect with Pax." The rogue, catching the significance of her words, understands that she is about to teach him the ability to see and hear through the snake.
"Trust is essential," Delphie begins, her voice carrying a sense of wisdom. "He won't allow you to access his senses if you don't trust him. You must become one." He nods, ready to learn the unique skill. "Now, open your eyes and repeat after me: 'Pax, lend me your senses. Yth xkhat ir.'"
The pale elf takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and repeats the incantation. "Pax, lend me your senses. Yth xkhat ir."
Pax, sensing the connection, obediently slithers off Astarion's wrist and ventures through the camp. Astarion's eyes glow white as he experiences the disorienting sensation of seeing and hearing through Pax while remaining physically still. The surroundings shift, and Astarion stumbles back, a mixture of awe and mild panic crossing his face. Delphie, observing his reaction, chuckles softly.
"That was...very disorienting." Astarion, regaining his composure, meets her gaze with a raised eyebrow.
"You'll get used to it," Delphie assures, a playful twinkle in her eye.
The party arrives at the Towers to witness the aftermath of the Harpers' swift and efficient assault on the outdoor guards. Fallen bodies mark the path they had cleared, a somber reminder of the sacrifices made to secure their position. Delphie and Jaheira, ever strategic, huddle together to discuss the next move in their battle against Z'rell and the looming threat of the Absolute.
"We need to cut off all the exits," Delphie suggests, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. Jaheira, with her seasoned experience, nods in agreement. The decision is made, and the party prepares to confront the impending confrontation within the Towers.
As they enter the imposing structure, the group stands with weapons at the ready, anticipating the battle that awaits them. Z'rell, positioned at the bottom of the stairs, greets them with a mixture of disdain and fury. "You dare show yourself here, after all you've done? You have betrayed me, you have betrayed General Thorm - you have betrayed our god!" Her voice echoes through the chamber, accusing the party of their perceived treacheries.
Delphie glares at the half-orc, her eyes narrowing in defiance as Z'rell continues her accusatory tirade. "And for what? These Harpers? Moonrise will be their tomb - and in death, you will all serve the Absolute."
"That's where you're wrong," the wood elf retorts, her features contorted in a snarl. The defiance in her voice resonates with the collective determination of the party.
As her defiant words echo through the chamber, signaling the commencement of the battle, her companions and allies spring into action. Astarion and Delphie swiftly descend a few steps, the urgency of the situation evident in their movements. Suddenly, Delphie wraps an arm around Astarion's waist, her scales glowing with their usual draconic energy.
"Bakmadaup dost," she utters, and in an instant, a cloud of mist envelops them. The mist dissipates, revealing the duo standing on the wooden beams above, back to back and ready for the impending confrontation.
In a seamless display of coordination, Delphie reaches into Astarion's quiver, retrieving two arrows without even glancing. The sharp tips of the wooden bullet-like cylinders at the top of the arrows gleam with a sinister edge. Without looking, she places one arrow in her mouth and pulls back the other. With a release of the bow's tension, the arrow shoots forward, unleashing a thunderous energy that sends one of the cultists plummeting to his doom. The second arrow finds its mark, causing another to lose balance and shower the Absolutists below in a spray of crimson.
Meanwhile, Astarion expertly aims a regular arrow at the cultist in front of him, the projectile finding its mark in the cultist's chest. Not content with a single shot, Astarion forcefully pushes the cultist back tumbling off the beam.
Below on the ground, Shadowheart and Lae'zel, despite their differences, fight as one. In a synchronized dance of energy and precision, Shadowheart's bolts of radiant energy distract while Lae'zel closes in from behind, piercing the cultists with deadly accuracy. A bit further ahead, Jaheira seamlessly shifts into her panther form, turning invisible before pouncing on her unsuspecting prey.
Gale, ever the cautious spellcaster, provides support from a distance. He aims fireballs at secluded cultists, ensuring the safety of his allies. However, a misjudged fireball draws a disapproving scowl and death glare from Lae'zel, who narrowly avoids the fiery blast. In another corner, Karlach unleashes a torrent of rage, swinging her axe with thunderous war cries. Beside her, Wyll channels bolts of red crackling energy, sending cultists running towards him flying backward in a display of magical adeptness.
Amidst the tumultuous battle, Delphie's attention is drawn to a figure in a black robe, a face from her past that sends a chill down her spine. Allatou stands below them, snickering at her with a sense of mockery. A surge of anger wells up within Delphie, her eyes narrowing as she finds the woman who had brought so much pain into her life.
Before Astarion can even comprehend what's happening, Delphie, driven by a mixture of rage and determination, leaps off the wooden beam. She lands with swift precision on a cultist below and immediately pursues Allatou, her instincts pushing her to confront the source of her torment.
"Mother!" Delphie shouts, her voice carrying a primal edge.
However, before she could close the distance, Allatou incants, "Oury wmuydv." The bangle under Allatou's robe lights up, creating a shimmering shield of thin flames that wreathe through her body.
The wood elf, fueled by her animalistic rage, fails to notice the shield enveloping the older sorcerer. "Bakmadaup dost!" Delphie shouts, her scales glowing as she reaches out to grab her mother. But just as her hand nears Allatou, the flames sear her palm, causing Delphie to wince in pain.
Allatou, her smirk widening, taunts Delphie, "Look at that, my daughter is finally biting back. I'll see you soon, my dear. Zydyearz." With a mocking air kiss, Allatou disappears into a circle of translucent blue runes, leaving Delphie standing there with a mixture of frustration and determination burning in her eyes.
The ranger, her hand still stinging from the encounter with her mother, casts a glance back as Astarion finally joins her on the ground. The chaos of battle rages around them, the clash of weapons and the crackle of magic filling the air. Despite the intensity of the situation, there is a shared understanding among the party members.
Jaheira, having lost her panther form in the heat of the battle, emerges with a confident smirk. Her commanding voice cuts through the loud noise, "Get to the roof! We'll hold them back!" The directive is met with a collective nod from the party members, each one acknowledging the importance of the task at hand.
As the party disperses, a quick exchange of glances passes between them. The glances spoke volumes, carrying the weight of trust and reliance on each other's abilities. Delphie and Astarion, along with the others, move with purpose, their steps fueled by a shared determination to reach the roof and fulfill their part in the coordinated strategy.
The journey toward the roof becomes a blend of individual skills and strengths, each party member navigating through the remaining cultists with precision and resolve. The distant sounds of battle echo through the Towers, a constant reminder of the ongoing struggle they were leaving behind.
The party races up multiple flights of stairs, their footsteps echoing in the confines of the tower. The air grows tense with anticipation as they reach the pinnacle. A celestial figure, adorned with angelic wings, soars around the building, clashing with undead creatures using a radiant sword. The battleground before them is a chaotic display of celestial light and the unholy forces of the undead.
Ketheric stands on a tall platform in front of them, his gaze locking onto Delphie as they emerge at the top of the tower. Without hesitation, she charges forward, her eyes filled with determination. The paladin, sensing her approach, turns around to face her, his expression contorted with a mix of surprise and hatred.
"YOU! What have you done?! What have you done to me?!" Ketheric exclaims, his voice echoing in the open space as he stares at his weakened hands.
Delphie takes another step forward, her teeth bared, and speaks with a voice laced with conviction, "You're mortal now, and you will pay for what you did to the people and nature within this town!"
Astarion, standing with the others, can't help but smile, not necessarily for the virtue of her cause, but for the unwavering confidence he senses in her voice. With Galure gone, and though not entirely healed, this is the most confident he has seen her since they arrived in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.
"Impossible. You're a thrall - a slave!" Ketheric retorts, disbelief and rage evident in his eyes.
"I'm a slave to no one," Delphie counters, the predatory glare returning to her eyes.
"You serve the Absolute. You. Serve. ME! Bow, you dog. BOW!" Ketheric's eyes glow with an eerie green light as he conjures a similar glow in his hand, the power of the Absolute coursing through him.
As the oppressive influence of Ketheric's dark power bears down on Delphie, her once vibrant emerald eyes now emit an unnatural and unsettling shade of green. Her mind, a once-cohesive sanctuary, begins to fragment, and the thin line between reality and illusion blurs in the wake of the Absolute's relentless assault. Confusion seizes her thoughts, and for an unsettling moment, the compulsion to obey Ketheric grips her, threatening to unravel the very fabric of her will.
In this vulnerable state, a sudden glimmer of salvation appears. The Prism seems to break free from Shadowheart's backpack. With a burst of energy pulsating in hues of orangish-red, the Prism soars toward Delphie like a vigilant guardian spirit. As it reaches her, it forms a protective shield around her mind, deflecting Ketheric's invasive influence with its potent magical aura.
As the Prism encases Delphie, a wave of force erupts from its protective energy, sending her spiraling backward to safety. In the tumultuous chaos, Astarion, quick on his feet, catches her in his arms, preventing her from hitting the ground. Meanwhile, the Prism gracefully returns to her hand, a beacon of resilience against the encroaching darkness.
Ketheric, his death stare intensifying, directs his fury at Delphie. "The Prism. You've had it this whole time - you worm! You will bow before me. And if you will not bow, you will break." His words echo through the tower, dripping with malevolence as he seeks to assert dominance over her will.
Delphie, regaining her footwork, meets Ketheric's deadly gaze with a resolute glare.
The celestial figure descends with a breathtaking burst of radiant energy, crashing in front of the paladin before he can muster another attack against the party. The burst of celestial brilliance reveals the figure to be Aylin, the daughter of Selune, as Delphie realizes with a sudden clarity. The events of the day run through her mind, connecting the dots between Shadowheart's earlier news and the appearance of the celestial entity.
Aylin, with her sword raised high, stands before Ketheric, who lies on the ground glaring up into her white eyes, a potent symbol of the celestial forces arrayed against the darkness within the tower.
"You," Ketheric growls, recognizing his adversary.
"How good it is to see you again, Ketheric," Aylin responds, her voice dripping with venom. "At last, you've found a god-master that suits you, it seems."
Ketheric, fueled by arrogance and defiance, rises to his feet. "Aylin. The thief. You stole Isobel from me, and now you think you'll take my life again in the bargain?"
Aylin's expression remains resolute, and she retorts with disdain, "You dare to speak her name?" The mention of Isobel, coupled with the evident tension between the two, reveals a history fraught with betrayal and pain.
As Ketheric and Aylin engage in their tense and charged conversation, Karlach takes a moment to turn to Delphie, a mischievous glint in her eyes. With a nonchalant tone, she tosses a seemingly unrelated statement into the mix.
"I'll bet you ten gold pieces they used to fuck," Karlach remarks, a sly smirk playing on her lips.
Delphie, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected assertion, furrows her brows in confusion. "Ketheric and Aylin?" she questions, her mind grappling with the possibility.
A snort of laughter escapes from Karlach, dispelling any lingering ambiguity. "What? Oh, fuck no. I'm talking about Aylin and Isobel."
Delphie's expression shifts from confusion to understanding as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. "That makes more sense," she concedes.
Aylin's commanding voice cuts through the pre-battle banter, bringing a sudden gravity to the looming confrontation. "He will crumble at your touch - give him all you have," she declares, her words resonating with a divine authority. The party, heeding her call, draw their weapons in unison, a symphony of steel and determination filling the air.
"THE GODS FIGHT AT OUR SIDE!" Aylin's rallying cry echoes through the air, infusing the party with renewed vigor and purpose. The divine energy in her words reverberates, and the adventurers, emboldened by the divine presence at their side, prepare for the impending clash.
As the battle erupts once again, Aylin and Delphie synchronize their efforts, focusing their attacks on Ketheric. The aasimar and the wood elf moved with a coordinated precision, their strikes aiming to weaken the paladin and sever the connection to the malevolent forces that power him.
Meanwhile, the rest of the party charges into action, each member targeting the remaining threats in the room. Swords clash, spells erupt, and the room becomes a chaotic battleground. The undead, remnants of Ketheric's dark influence, face the combined might of the party, while the last cultist in the room finds herself overwhelmed by the onslaught.
The air crackles with energy as the party fights with a shared purpose, driven by the divine intervention of Aylin and the determination to vanquish the remnants of the Absolute's influence.
As the onslaught of attacks overwhelms Ketheric, his forces succumb within mere minutes, leaving the paladin on the brink of defeat. His defiant voice breaks through the chaos. "Enough. My Lord beckons me." Delphie and Aylin share a look of concern, realizing the gravity of his words. Aylin, with a sense of urgency, takes to the sky, poised for a final strike.
"You must return to your prison. And my daughter must be reclaimed," Ketheric calls out to Aylin, his words laden with a dark determination that sends a shiver through the air.
As Aylin prepares for the decisive blow, the mention of his daughter halts her in her tracks. "Your daughter - Isobel?!" she exclaims, her expression shifting from readiness to disbelief.
"Yeah, they definitely fucked," Karlach quips, interjecting her characteristic humor even in the midst of the unfolding crisis.
Before anyone can fully process what's going on, Ketheric gathers a significant amount of red energy, raising his warhammer and directing it toward the smaller connecting turret behind them. In a shocking turn of events, a large purple tentacle bursts out from the turret's top, sending a wave of terror through everyone present. Wide-eyed, the party watches in horror as the unexpected monstrosity reveals itself.
Aylin, undeterred by the unfolding chaos, charges after Ketheric. With a powerful swing of his warhammer, Ketheric silently commands the tentacle to strike her out of the sky. An audible gasp escapes from the party as Aylin is slammed into the ground, the impact knocking Delphie off her feet as well.
Attempting to rise, grinding her teeth in pain, Delphie looks up at Ketheric, her gaze filled with determination. Ketheric's ominous words echo through the air, "You will fall as sure as she. This has only begun." He disappears, taking Aylin with him into the depths of the tentacle.
The room falls into a stunned silence, the aftermath of Ketheric's actions leaving the party grappling with a sense of unease. Delphie, determined despite her injuries, forces herself to her feet. Her gaze follows the retreating tentacle as she calls out to the party, "That tentacle was colossal. It looked like they were teleported through the tip of it."
Karlach addresses the uncertain situation, "Do you think they're down there, soldier?" The party gathers at the edge of the destroyed tower, peering into the abyss below. The inside of the turret, composed entirely of flesh and slime, makes Gale feel a bit queasy, but he steels himself for what lies ahead.
"Only one way to find out," Shadowheart declares with conviction, already climbing inside. Karlach and Lae'zel follow suit without hesitation, their determination matching the severity of the circumstances. Wyll, with an exasperated sigh, jumps in as well, accepting the unsettling environment within the fleshy turret.
"Why is it always flesh?" Gale mutters under his breath as he musters the courage to climb inside.
As Delphie prepares to follow, Astarion gently grabs her hand. Confusion flickers in her eyes as she looks at him. With a reassuring tone, he says, "We will find her, darling, and when we do, we'll make her pay for everything she's done to you."
A small, appreciative smile crosses Delphie's face as she squeezes his hand in return. Together, they leap into the fleshy abyss below, their commitment to the mission and each other echoing in the determined set of their expressions.