"We've had our little fun already, but now it's time to get down to business. Don't you think so?"
His low voice growled beside her. Fallon could barely hear him over the sound of her own blood pooling in her ears. One eye swelled while the other lazily stared at her captor– a man in black bone-like armour that sang as he tortured her.
"I've enjoyed our little session today though," he placed down his blunt dagger and leaned up to her face. Fallon could smell his tea-breath as he spoke, "The mistress demands the location of the grove. In return, she's allowed me to grant you a merciful death. Otherwise," he wiped her bloodied hair from her face, "I can continue." His ink black eyes sparkled, a hand trailed down her neck and body until resting on an open wound, he pushed a finger in.
A pathetic wheeze whistled from her throat in place of a scream, her torn vocal chords no longer able to produce anything remotely human. Her body spasmed against the torture rack as he pushed in deeper. Fallon opened her mouth and managed only a gargle.
"What was that?" he leaned in closer to her lips.
"Fu…", she choked and coughed up blood that pooled in her throat, "Fuck you," she rasped. He's already done his worst, she thought. Her body teetered on the edge of complete oblivion and she knew it wasn't long before everything would shut down or she would pass out. Only the single question strengthened her resolve– If they were willing to do this to her, what would they do to the people in the Grove? As she accepted her fate, her torturer stood up straight with a sardonic smile on his lips.
"I love the tough ones, but do something for me?" he held out his hands over her mutilated body, "Try to be a little louder, I want Loviatar to hear your beautiful screams." He reclined, uttering an incantation. A gentle radiance enveloped her form, and a sensation akin to warm water coursing over her skin awakened all her senses. The liquid gathered in her wounds, and the familiar feeling of her flesh seamlessly knitting itself back together washed over her, bringing a profound sense of relief as the pulsating pain abated. The swelling diminished, restoring clarity to her vision. Yet, a dreadful awareness dawned upon her—she was entirely healed, trapped in an unending cycle with her torturer.
Arching her back, she experienced the tightening and releasing of every muscle as they healed under the torturer's words. When she looked up at him, he responded with a sinister smile. Although her mind felt clear and her body relieved of pain, the anticipation of the impending torment brought a sense of agony. Tears welled in her eyes. Turning her head away, she fixed her gaze on a spot of blood on the wall. With laser focus, as though she could will herself away through the mark, she stared at it, trying to detach from the impending torment that awaited her.
"No, no, Dear one," she felt his gloved hand grip her jaw and force her gaze back to him, "I want to see the pain twisted on that beautiful face."
He let go of her and assessed his tools, each of them already gorged in her blood. Fallon closed her eyes and concentrated on the tadpole– a trick she had managed only once. She felt it stir inside her head, but when she probed outwards she found nothing.
"Perhaps we start with this," she heard a metal scraping sound but Fallon forced her eyes shut and focused on probing further outwards. Come on, come on, I did it before! The spot behind her eye began to throb as she overexerted herself. She broadcasted herself as far out as she could through the tadpole's power, finding only unabated nothingness, until it hit something familiar.
"Excuse me," the familiar voice snapped her eyes open, "are you the Loviatar fellow?" Shadowheart stood in the opening, leaning against the wall. She didn't look at Fallon, only kept her eyes trained on the Loviatar worshipper, who now placed down his tools and stood up to bow.
"I am he."
Shadowheart entered the room, one hand on her hip with the other twirling her plait. She looked him up and down then gave a bashful smile. When she spoke, Fallon could barely recognise her voice.
"I heard you were somewhere in this camp, which is quite the happy coincidence because I'm looking for a little…" she fluttered her eyes, "Penance." Is she… flirting?
The man grinned and clasped his hands together, "Loviater welcomes all for penance," he circled around Shadowheart, his eyes feasting on her, "...and it would be my absolute pleasure to accommodate you," he returned to Fallon and brushed his fingertips along her cheek.
"You'll have to wait, Dear One, don't get too comfortable without me," he walked to the other room, Shadowheart followed behind him but not before quickly turning to look at Fallon and winking at her.
Once out of sight, Fallon began discreetly tugging at the restraints, careful not to raise any suspicions. She detested the thought of Shadowheart being alone with the creep but was more focused on planning her own escape. Positioning herself to pull on the chain restraining her left wrist, she gritted her teeth but only managed to shift it a few inches up her wrist. If she wanted to free her hand, she would have to resort to breaking her thumb. She repositioned herself to place her thumb in an angle that with enough force, could dislocate it so she could slip the cuff off.
She looked at her angled thumb and tried not to think of the agony that was about to erupt. She also had to push away the thought that she would need to do it to both hands to escape both cuffs– all while not making a squeak. She heard the low voices of the freak and Shadowheart in the next room. Shadowheart couldn't distract him forever. She assessed the position of her thumb and tested the angle by applying gentle pressure, then she took successive shallow breaths and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Need a hand?" the whisper startled her and she opened her eyes to be greeted by Astarion's playful smirk. She blinked at him.
"Hurry… please" she pleaded.
"Well… since you said please," he began prodding the left cuff, easing the lock gently. Fallon's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes never moving from the door. Any moment someone could walk in.
A satisfying click echoed in the chamber.
"That's one," Astarion promptly moved to the second cuff. Fallon dropped her arm to her side and felt all the blood rushing back into it, sending the feeling of a thousand tiny knives prickling at her skin.
"Did Little Miss Tracker get lost in the forest?" he said, not removing his eyes from the lock.
"I heard someone shouting for help and…"
"And?"
"When I went to investigate a bunch of little goblin fuckers jumped me. One of them casted a sleep spell on me and I woke up here." Astarion clicked his tongue.
"Tsk tsk that's what you get for helping strangers." The lock clicked open and her second hand dropped blissfully free. She stepped off the rack that held her but as soon her foot touched the stone her knees buckled beneath her.
"Shit," Astarion caught her halfway and she gripped his arm for support.
"Can you walk?" He gently pulled her to her feet and she felt the same painful tingle in her legs.
"I think so." She took a few steps but felt her legs liquified beneath her and she roughly tumbled to the ground. As she pulled herself up again she heard approaching footsteps echoing from outside. Fallon looked around for a place to hide but found only the dark cavern and the torture racks.
"There's no time," she felt herself being lifted off the floor and thrown over Astarion's shoulder. He leapt up into the cavern and suddenly darkness enveloped her.
Fallon drank in the cool night air as soon as Astarion carried her out of the cave. She hadn't realised how stuffy it had been in the Goblin camp until she was finally breathing in clear air. Astarion expertly leapt from rock to rock and carried her further from the camp. She watched from his shoulder as the fires began to diminish and the sounds of drums dwindled into weak, distant thuds.
"Wait," Fallon tapped his shoulder.
"What?"
"We can't leave Shadowheart behind."
Astarion chuckled, "Perhaps worry about your own predicament darling, hmm?" he carried onwards, deeper into the forest.
"I think I can walk now, please put me down," Astarion gently lowered her. Fallon shook out each leg, promoting the blood flow. Her toes still tingled but her legs felt strong again. She looked around but didn't recognise the area of the forest they stood in. She walked through the underbrush until she found a clearing then peered up at the night sky that exploded with millions of stars.
"Beautiful isn't it," she heard Astarion come up beside her and sigh, "You don't see this back in the city."
"Not just beautiful, but helpful as well. There," she pointed westwards, "that's where the camp is."
"I could have told you that."
"So that means the river is down through there, come one." Fallon trotted off with Astarion following closely behind.
"We're not going back to camp?"
"They might be tracking us, we should wait out the night before going back."
"Clever."
After an hour of trudging through the forest and across the bridge, Fallon found a river and began cleaning the blood from her face and hands. Her fingertips tingled when touching the water, but when she brought her hands up to her face she noticed the uncontrollable shaking. She clenched her fingers into her fist and tried to purge away the thought of her fingernails being ripped off. At least he's a good healer.
She looked around at their surroundings. The camp was too far to see anymore and behind them was a cliff facing the river, Fallon nodded up at its peak.
"We'll have a good vantage point from up there. Nothing can sneak up on us."
Astarion bowed, "Lead the way, Tracker."
They scaled the cliffside and once Fallon reached the top she leant over and offered a hand to Astarion and helped pull him up. She looked out over the landscape. Under different circumstances she would have found the view beautiful. Fallon took a solitary moment to drink it in, anything to distract her mind as it revisited the last several hours.
The night was accompanied by a symphony of crickets and nocturnal creatures, their calls weaving through the cool air. With the forest enveloped in darkness, the display above stole the spotlight. The vast, velvety sky was adorned with stars and a distant galaxy stretched across the heavens like a luminous river, its ethereal glow casting a soft radiance upon the treetops.
Don't stop screaming Dear One.
The towering trees silhouetted against the cosmic backdrop, seem to reach for the stars, their branches creating intricate patterns against the inky canvas. The night breeze carried a sense of calm, as the rustling leaves and distant sounds of the forest become more pronounced in the absence of daylight.
Now now, no need for tears, Loviatar isn't done with you yet.
Fireflies flickered like living stars among the trees, adding a touch of magic to the scene. Their gentle, intermittent glow created a dance of light that complemented the brilliance of the distant stars. Fallon took a deep breath, the crisp air carried the scent of damp earth and the subtle fragrance of pine.
Like a symphony to my ears!
The quietude of the night was interrupted only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the distant call of a nocturnal creature. The forest below, once vibrant with daylight activity, took on a serene and otherworldly ambiance.
A crackle from behind her pulled her back to reality. She turned to see a weak campfire with Astarion tending it.
"Ha! Witness my inaugural campfire," he exclaimed with a playful grin that swiftly faded into an expression of concern when he looked up at Fallon. She dragged herself over and sat down beside him. She watched the flames as they stretched higher and higher, as though trying desperately to escape its bounds to the wood. She clenched her shaking hands even tighter.
"I can't stop shaking," she choked. She was familiar with the sensation of adrenaline pumping through her veins as she ambushed a bounty,or stalked a deer through the forest. But these shakes felt different, like quakes in her body that refused to relent. As though her body thought it could shake away any and all pain it had ever felt.
"I've been 'interrogated' before, but nothing like this." She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the sounds of the wood popping in the campfire instead of the phantom pain she still felt of her skin being punctured, sliced and burned.
"I know a little trick," Astarion shuffled closer to her and drew a grid in the dirt with a nearby stick, "How about a game of Glyph Grid?"
Fallon looked between the empty grid in the dirt and Astarion's face– he appeared a little more relaxed than he'd previously been.
"I'm really not sure I'm in the mood for this."
"Just… trust me. I'll go first." He drew a circle into the centre of the grid and handed the stick to Fallon. She looked at the stick shaking in her hand then quickly drew a cross beside Astarion's circle.
"Interesting choice," he chuckled then drew another circle. They went back and forth until finally Astarion drew his final circle and drew a line through all his adjoined circles in the grid.
"I win," he smiled, "don't fret, I'm very good at this game. Another round?"
"I'm not-"
"Do you trust me?" he said suddenly. Fallon looked up at him. The last few weeks he wore the perfect, painted grin with a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes. Now she saw the sincerity deep within them, he had the same look the night he revealed his vampiric nature.
"I do," something flashed in his eyes, a microexpression that shifted when she spoke.
"Then play another round, and then another and another, until you hate this game," he drew a circle in the centre of the grid again.
"OK," she said quietly and drew a cross next to it again.
"I win again, try a little harder darling, I'm getting tired of winning so much," he drawled.
Fallon tucked her knees up under her chin and focused on the grid. She had tried every variation she could think of.
"This is just embarrassing," she laughed. Astarion nudged her with his shoulder.
"It was embarrassing twenty rounds ago, I assure you." Fallon shot him a glance but then paused, realising how close they had become. Astarion almost had his head resting on her shoulder, his eyes fixed on the grid, eagerly awaiting her next move. Fallon looked up at the sky and noticed that stars had shifted slightly, it had been hours since they started playing.
"How do you feel?" The question caught her off guard. For a moment she didn't understand what he was asking until she looked down at her hands.
"A lot better actually," her mind was absent of the intrusive memories and her body felt like her own again. She turned to look at the pale elf, "How did you know that would work?"
"Because it works for me," Astarion absent-mindedly nudged the fire with his stick, "I play this game after his torture sessions, or after one his 'parties'... it helps keep the memories from 'cementing' so to speak. Not a perfect solution but I certainly notice a difference when I don't play it." A heavy sadness settled over Fallon– he must have played the game obsessively to be so good at it.
"Then I hope you never have to play it again," she said. He turned his head to look at her, a mix of confusion and scepticism painted on his face, as though he couldn't trust her words. Then it melted into his perfect, waxy smile.
"Playing it with you is… a little different," he leaned towards her, "although not very challenging I must admit."
Fallon laughed and turned away to scan the horizon. The forest sat like a silent sentinel in the darkness.
"We can probably head back to camp, if they were tracking us they would have found us by now with the campfire," Fallon repositioned herself to stand up but felt Astarion grab her shoulder quickly.
"Actually," he coughed, "I would prefer it if we stayed here. It's been nice, just the two of us." Fallon couldn't stop herself from searching his face again. Astarion waxed and waned like the moon and Fallon could never pinpoint his emotions or intentions. He had started out indifferent to her, but as the days drew on his whole demeanour shifted. One moment he was vexing her, the next flirting, then the next chiding her. He would practically demand her attention in one moment and then seem to grow bored with it once she gave it– it reminded her of a feline creature that simultaneously wanted to be both inside the house and outside at the same time. Just as she grew tired of it, he would suddenly become sincere, and she sensed this was the closest to the real him as she would ever see– and she wanted more of it for some reason.
She lowered back down next to him, maintaining unbroken eye contact. His smile returned as she settled back by his side. Being in Astarion's presence felt akin to standing in the midst of a storm, with the unpredictable wind capable of changing direction at any given moment. Her stomach churned with a mixture of peculiar sensations, blending the instinctive sense that danger lurked nearby with a magnetic attraction.
She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit she enjoyed being alone with him too.
"I'm sure the others will handle a single night without their valiant leader barking orders at them," he jested.
"I'm not in charge, I don't know why everyone insists on someone being in charge."
"Because you're keeping us alive, darling. It's pragmatic."
For now, she thought. The forest was her domain, so of course she took the lead when they all emerged from the crash.
"I just hope that the Druid is alive. If he's dead…" she looked over at him. His suddenly sullen, sunken eyes reminded her that his tadpole was preventing a possibly worse fate from taking hold. Of course the rest of them were eager to remove the parasite, but Astarion relied on it. His quest was not so simple. His path to freedom meant relying on the strange figure in their dreams.
"Astarion," he looked up at her, the despair obvious in his red eyes.
"I won't abandon you. I will do everything I can to help with… your other problem." A soft smile appeared but she could see that he didn't believe her.
"Thank you, darling. That's very… sweet," She meant it, in that moment she decided that Astarion didn't deserve his fate, even if his morals were questionable. She'd never dealt with Vampires before but she had rescued kidnapping victims and people trapped in escapable relationships, that was her job; finding people, sometimes killing people. Astarion would be her next client, even if he didn't believe her. The lack of confidence unsettled her but she pushed away the feeling.
They sat together quietly, only the crackling fire interrupted the stillness of the night. She appreciated how effective the Glyph Grid game had been at restoring her sense of normalness. She wondered how it worked, was it the monotony of repeating a movement again and again. Or was it putting all of one's focus towards a seemingly unimportant task, therefore taking energy away from reliving a horrid moment?
Or perhaps it's being around him…
Suddenly, it dawned on her that everything had changed. In one of the quieter moments during her ordeal, she had envisioned that the others would remain unaffected by her absence—perhaps briefly concerned before continuing their quest. Losing one member shouldn't prompt panic, and certainly didn't warrant risking their already precarious lives. But they saved her, Astarion included, who had previously whined and dragged his feet at even the mention of helping anyone. Yet he and the rest had risked their lives and delayed their quest just for her.
She laid down and stared up at the stars. Astarion joined by laying on his back. They looked at each other briefly and smiled before turning their gazes skyward, and Fallon felt it. For the first time since waking up on the beach, she wasn't burdened with an intense sense of isolation and doom.