Chapter One
I don't wanna look at anything else
Now that I saw you
(I can never look away)
- "Daylight," Taylor Swift
From the moment they exited the Sharran ruins, the all-encompassing darkness pressed down on them like a lead blanket. The pervasive silence, the oppressive blackness weighed down on the party, stifling conversation and dampening spirits.
Gale didn't know how, but they'd managed to stumble their way through the shadow-cursed lands with torches, a touch of magic, and sheer dumb luck. The jagged, torn landscape glowed with an eerie magic, a dancing blue light rising from the cracked earth to throw dancing shadows over the barren scene. Nothing grew here, nothing rotted here, but plenty died here. Every corpse they passed looked so fresh that, at first, Gale thought they had passed within the hour. But clothing and weapons from a century past told a different story.
He kept close to Zarra as they picked their way through the bleak landscape. He was in love with her and drew comfort from her nearness. He doubted she returned his affections, but she tolerated him well enough and had been unusually upset after Mystra's proclamation. It was enough to give even his scarred heart hope.
She'd been beautiful in the Underdark, the darkness there softened by glowing flora and making her lilac skin practically glow. This bleak nothingness leant her a stark sort of beauty, highlighting the hollows of her cheeks and making her snowy white hair a beacon in a sea of black.
Ahead of them, Halsin and Shadowheart bickered softly about the curse weighing down on the party
"Gale," she murmured, gaze darting all about them, "what do you make of the Shadow Curse?"
"It is dismal, cloaked in darkness and not a speck of light to be found."
"Does it—I don't mean to sound insulting, but does it affect your connection to the Weave?"
"Of course not, though it does nothing to make the shadows less dangerous."
"Good, good," she said absently. Halsin and Shadowheart's argument grew slightly louder, making Zarra wince. "Gods, would it kill them to shut up until we find somewhere safe to camp?"
He huffed a quiet laugh at that. "Knowing the two of them and their strong opinions, it just might. I don't believe our passengers can protect us from spontaneous cranial implosions."
She breathed a chuckle and shook her head. "I'd break it up, but I'm a little tired of playing mediator."
"Then walk with me and let the others manage the spat." Gale's heart fluttered at the soft smile that had her eyes crinkling and a hint of a dimple flashing. "I'd say 'let's pretend we're anywhere else,' but that sentiment seems liable to get us killed, so I'll refrain."
"Even the Underdark isn't so dismal," Zarra muttered, walking a little closer until back of her hand to brushed against his.
Gale's hand itched to hold hers, to entwine their fingers and simply feel how they fit together. But that had clasped her blade while the other held a torch aloft, ensconcing the pair in a flickering bubble of orange light. He swallowed the disappointment and bumped her hand with his, silently hoping she understood what was unsaid.
"The Underdark is a raw, natural phenomenon—after finally seeing it for myself, I understand your wistfulness for it," he said gently, watching her from the corner of his eye. " This is anything but natural."
Voices echoed ahead, breaking the heavy silence as one might shatter glass. The party stiffened, falling silent as they moved towards the sound. Down a slight hill and around a bend, torchlight flickered and stilled their movements. Gale wasn't even sure he was still breathing in his bid to remain silent and undetected. Beside him, Zarra lowered herself into a crouch and inched her way in front of him. His hands tightened about his staff, the incantation for a lightning spell on the tip of his tongue.
One of the people in the party ahead fell into the shadows, even as his companions tried to call him back into the pool of torchlight.
Gale nearly choked on bile as the darkness devoured the poor soul.
He didn't have more than a heart beat or two to compose himself before the shadows swarmed the other party.
With a curse, Lae'zel and Karlach leapt into action, igniting a nearby brazier and decimating the shadows with brute force. The shadows divided to include them in their assault, either with icy claws of pure darkness or by possessing the bodies of the fallen. Human, orc, elf, dog—they were indiscriminate in their possession. Flaming arrows did some damage against them, searing holes in the shades like a match through gossamer. Gale, Halsin, and Shadowheart worked overtime to lob fireballs and radiant magic at the creatures. The rest wielded their torches in one hand and a blade in the other, striking out with both as they found unexpected support in the other group of the living.
After chasing shades through deeper pools of darkness and leaving naught but glowing orbs in their wake, Zarra wearily approached the others. Harpers, they said, offering respite in the shelter of the glowing silver bubble ahead. They said it promised safety from the shadows. It was now just a matter of getting there. Without a single word of disagreement from any quarter, they combined forces and fought their way from the ambush site towards a bridge. They all fought back to back, careful to remain in the ring of firelight lest the shadows take them too
Sweat trickled down Zarra's face as she thrust her torch at a shade that tried to sideswipe Gale. Its unearthly screech made his ears ache, but he couldn't stop casting. He launched a fireball at a shade careening toward Zarra, and she reeled into him.
Gale's heart skipped a beat at her nearness. Without missing a step, her blade found its home in a shade just as his wave of thunder threw it back. She laughed, the breathless sound curling in his chest, and danced into the fray once more. It took all his control to summon and cast fireball after fireball at the shadows, and his brow grew damp with sweat as he worked.
She pressed against his back then, twisting them until he was safely in the middle of the group. She slashed at a shadow-possessed dwarf as it darted by, and Gale allowed himself to marvel at how easily she'd maneuvered him. Shadow-cursed ravens dove at them then, and he hurried to destroy them before they took out any eyes.
The ground changed then from uneven, broken earth to hard stone. The bridge was underfoot, now, but there was no time to celebrate. They still needed to make it through the protective silver bubble.
Sensing their quarry was close to slipping away, the shadows descended with a renewed vigor. Swipes came faster, rending through leather and cloth to soft skin below. Wyll's shout was laden with pain, so Zarra abandoned fighting to cast a healing ward over her allies. The cool rush of healing magic flowed over them all, hopefully healing everything to a manageable level.
Another few steps back. They were closer now. The barrier hummed at their backs, welcoming and warming.
A few more slashes and strikes. Another healing spell. Shades screamed and melted away, allowing the party to focus on offense. The fighters went after the possessed, weapons flying even as they panted their exhaustion. Shadowheart fell back to join Zarra in sending out waves of healing magic. Breaths were ragged and limbs trembled after what seemed like hours of fighting and casting. Even with the orb now stabilized, Gale's recovering magical reserves were running dangerously low. It was only a few skirmishes, but even that much so close to the disaster at the githyanki creche was pushing the entire party past their limits.
But he knew safety was close at hand, so he kept fighting. He'd seen what happened to those unlucky enough to be caught by the shadows.
With a final shriek, the last shade melted away and they hurried through the barrier. Cool, silvery magic washed over Gale as he stepped through, the magic reminding him of stepping into a moon-soaked pool. Safe at last, he stumbled over to lean on the stone railing, panting into the cold, still air. It seemed even the protective barrier couldn't chase away the icy nothingness that hung over the entire area.
Even still, he couldn't help but seek out Zarra to ensure she was safe. He quickly spied her near the rail of the bridge, her curls escaping their braid and each panted breath creating a white puff in the chill air. She was truly lovely, even in this cursed place. She was crafted for the darkness, and her mismatched eyes were bright in the flickering light. His belly swooped with excitement when she shot him a breathless grin, and Gale was helpless to stop himself from joining her.
"You know," Gale said lowly, appearing at her side as the Harpers milled about, "it's quite thrilling to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side. I once read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one's desire for… other forms of stimulation. Have you ever read anything on that subject?"
"On this topic?" Her grin broadened and she tossed her braid over her shoulder. "Can't say I have, though I have seen some very informative diagrams…"
"You have?" He nearly beamed with excitement, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "Then I might suggest we pool our knowledge? No sense in valuable, first-hand experience going to waste, after all."
Zarra actually laughed at that and shot him a look of pure desire from where she stood catching her breath, utterly unconcerned with the blood, dirt, and shadow goo splattered over her. How could he complain when she was laughing because of him ? Still, it was far more forward than he'd ever been before, this new boldness borne of the sense of freedom at the orb's newfound-stability as well as the reminder that his goddess demanded his death. There was no time to waste. He needed to make sure she knew he wanted her, that he loved her, before his story was forced to an abrupt end.
"I'm ready whenever you are. Just let me take a bath first." She shot him a shameless wink before sobering. "Gale, not that I mind, but where is this coming from?"
"Perhaps it's just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking," he said slowly, mulling it over. "But I don't believe so. Standing at your side through such darkness and despair, it only makes me want you more." With a glance at their companions behind her, he straightened and became all business once more. "Unfortunately, this is neither the time nor place to indulge such feelings. So, we must be patient and push all such thoughts aside. For now."
He could see the promise in his words left her breathless. He felt more like himself since their quiet argument the night before. Since the meeting with Elminster, he'd been lost in his own thoughts and pushed into a temper born of fear and melancholy. Only her determined refusal to accept the edict pulled him out of that state. Her quiet declaration of all he had to live for, the implication that she wanted him to live for her , the promise of possibility—it all aligned to give him hope. Hope for another way, hope for another path to redemption, hope for a chance with Zarra, for a future, for the chance of a return to normalcy.
Those hopes were sufficient to draw him out of his melancholy and ground him in the present. He could feel his magic returning, feel the Weave without the orb's interference for the first time in over a year. The whisper of Zarra's breath over his skin the night before, the glances she'd stolen at his lips, had been a shot directly to his cock, long-neglected since the orb's manifestation in his chest. He couldn't even summon a sense of embarrassment at how eagerly—or how many times—he'd taken himself in-hand once alone in his tent. He felt like himself again, and he was eager to share those parts of himself, his unobstructed magic and his unimpeded ardor, with her.
Heat flooded his cheeks now, his smile soft without the edge of tension, and his hands itched to touch her.
"Gale—" she breathed, wincing when a new voice demanded to speak with them, and Lae'zel hissed for Zarra to hurry to the front. "We're not finished with this conversation. I'll find you at camp."
She marched away from him, and the swing of her hips nearly had him groaning. It was only the force of her promise that kept him from dragging her back to kiss her senseless.
Time was meaningless in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, but they all silently agreed to be done for the night after the confrontation with Jaheira and the winged menaces sent from Moonrise Towers. Between setting up camp on the riverbank, taking shifts bathing, cooking, and organizing their supplies, Zarra and Gale weren't able to continue their conversation.
It hung between them as they ventured through the dark lands, clearing the threats between Last Light Inn and their ultimate goal of Moonrise Towers. Days passed and the promise of lifting the curse pulled Zarra, Gale, and Karlach away from their efforts to infiltrate the Absolute's stronghold. Halsin enlisted them in his cause, finding Thaniel in the Shadowfell and searching for his other half in the depths of the curse.
They exited the portal after convincing Oliver, the shadow-cursed nature spirit, to rejoin Thaniel. The prospect of never playing alone again proved too strong a temptation for the child. Zarra shook her head at the thought of calling an ageless nature spirit "child" and winced at the motion. One of the summoned shades had knocked her backwards, and she'd walloped her head against a loose rock. A rather sizable knot was growing rapidly on her temple.
While the others were taking a moment to examine themselves in the dilapidated cottage, Gale appeared at her side. His little orb of Weave light hovered over his shoulder, deepening the furrow between his brows.
"Are you alright? I saw you fall."
"A little banged up, but no worse for wear," she said, careful to hold her head still. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head, swinging his staff through the carry strap on his back. "I'm unharmed, so don't fret over me. You, however, need to be checked for a concussion after a tumble like that."
"I'll be alright, 'chev ," she said, the endearment slipping from her lips before she could stop it. Her cheeks flamed and she ducked her head with another wince, hiding her face behind the curtain of her hair. "A little healing magic, and I'll be good as new."
Warm, calloused fingers gently gripped her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. "How are you feeling? Is there any nausea? Sensitivity to light?"
"No, and no," she huffed, submitting to his fussing. Zarra begrudgingly admitted to herself that she would be— had been —equally worried before when he was the injured one. "And I don't feel unbalanced or confused, either."
"Good, good," he mumbled. His hands moved to cup her jaw as he stared intently into her eyes, making her heart skip a beat. "Fascinating. It can be difficult to tell that your eyes no longer match at any other time, but the difference could not be starker now. It's a beautiful contrast and only heightens your loveliness."
She wanted to look away, hide from his scrutiny and shake off the flattery. It was impossible with him so close. His gaze held her hostage, forced her to reckon with the unabashed honesty underpinning his words. He found her to be lovely. She wasn't used to such earnest compliments.
"Gale—" she breathed, shifting closer.
"You need to be patched up, and then I think we all need to rid ourselves of this fine coating of filth." His hands didn't drop from her face. On the contrary, his thumbs started tracing the line of her jaw, the light touch sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. "Come now. We shouldn't keep the others waiting."
She peered around him and her cheeks flamed again at the empty wreckage behind him. The others, it seemed, had chosen to wait for them outside the half-collapsed house. She'd been so wrapped up in him that she hadn't noticed them moving out. How embarrassing.
The smirk dancing on his lips told her that he felt differently. "Hum your healing song, sweet Zarra, and we can go."
With a steadying breath, she did as instructed. Her eyes fluttered shut as she plucked at the Weave and hummed the melody that would direct her healing. She could feel his gaze on her the whole time, warm and heavy like a favorite blanket. When the throbbing in her head subsided to a dull ache, she opened her eyes to find him watching her reverently.
"Good as new," she said with a small smile, hoping the weak joke would ease some of the anticipation coiling in her belly.
His answering smile only amplified the want simmering within her. "I'm going to be perfectly blunt right now: I want to kiss you. Desperately. Do you—?"
She rose on her toes to press her lips against his before he could finish whatever he planned to say, her arms curling about his neck to anchor him against her. Warm air puffed against her cheek as he huffed a laugh.
'Finally ,' she thought, and then all thought was gone.
They moved hungrily against each other, tasting and devouring with a greed Zarra hadn't thought possible. She wanted to memorize the feel of him, the warmth, the press of his hard body against hers, the way he tasted—she wanted all of him. Her body came alive under his touch, and she couldn't imagine living any other way.
Gale, for his part, refused to relinquish his hold on her. One of his large hands moved to tangle in her hair while the other dropped to wrap about her waist, crushing her against him. He quickly took charge of their kiss as he explored her with the hunger of a starving man at a feast. Zarra was only too happy to let him take the reins. He smelled soft and sharp, like books and herbs, and tasted faintly of mint, and she needed more. A tide of warm arousal pooled between her legs and spurred her to press her hips against his in a desperate bid for friction.
Gale broke away with a groan as she ground against his own straining arousal. "Zarra, my beauty, we can't—not here…"
She went stiff and cold in his arms at the endearment. My beauty . It sent a shudder down her spine and she felt suddenly ill. Stomach churning, she hurriedly withdrew from the wizard. All of that lovely excitement evaporated as the phrase echoed in her memories, said in a colder, crueler voice from decades past. A voice that echoed all too frequently from her dream visitor now.
"Excuse me," she rasped, all the sweetness turning sour in her belly.
Zarra couldn't force more out past her clenched jaw and roiling nausea. Unable to speak for fear of losing her lunch all over him, she hurried from the cottage to empty her stomach in the skeletal bushes outside. When she finished, she turned and found Gale watching her with an unreadable expression on his handsome face.
'Damn it all ,' she thought, wincing when he turned away from her.
She knew how it looked: They'd finally kissed, finally made real something that had been growing silently between them, and she'd run away to vomit only moments after they parted. She could all too easily imagine what he must be thinking.
She owed him an explanation. She just didn't know how to explain it. She'd never told anyone this story, forcing it to prowl on the recesses of her mind and live in her worst dreams.
My beauty .
How she hated those words. How she hated the man who'd first uttered them to her. She hated him for what he'd done to her, hated him for haunting her, hated the dream visitor for donning his face, and now she hated him for ruining a beautiful moment with Gale.
She hated herself for it too.
The trek back to the Last Light Inn was a quiet one. Halsin was entirely focused on guiding Oliver and answering his questions with all the fondness of a patient uncle. Lae'zel had taken her customary spot at the head of their party, leading the way through the haunting darkness and refusing to entertain conversation in the ringing silence that blanketed them. Even Gale was subdued as they walked. He was uncharacteristically quiet, walking towards the front and leaving Zarra alone at the rear of the party. It stung that he'd foregone their usual arrangement, but she couldn't blame him. She didn't want to walk with her either.
She needed to explain it, needed to let him in this last little bit. He deserved to know everything before deciding for himself whether she was worth pursuing further. Zarra only hoped he wouldn't see her as too damaged to bother with.