The chamber groaned under the weight of its ancient stone. Purple veins of energy pulsed along the marble walls and pillars, casting a shifting, malevolent light. Ashara lay pinned against the floor, her massive wolf form straining against the energy tendrils that coiled around her limbs and throat. They burned as they tightened, sapping her strength with every passing moment. Her growl faltered, then deepened, as the golden nightmare towered before her.

"—cked."

The tail end of Astarion's words sliced through her haze, but they did nothing to cut the weight crushing her chest. Fear surged, raw and instinctual, as her eyes locked on the towering dragon. His scales shimmered like molten metal, a blinding, unearthly gold that defied the dim light around him. His gaze was a weapon in itself - two pits of molten hatred, promising ruin. Her body trembled, not from the chill she wielded but from the ancient, primal terror clawing at her mind.

Onyx's voice tore through the air. "Don't hold his gaze, Ashara! He's using his fear aura to intimidate you."

The sharp sting of something striking her nose broke the spell. She flinched, eyes snapping to Astarion. "Eyes on me, darling," he barked, his tone commanding yet tinged with urgency. He crouched beside her massive form, fingers gripping the matted fur of her neck for stability. His crimson eyes burned with an intensity that rivaled the dragon's fire, pulling her out of the abyss. "I'm the prettier picture. Focus."

Ashara growled low in her throat, shaking her head violently. The sound of her growl reverberated through the chamber, but the oppressive energy tendrils twisted tighter around her limbs, anchoring her to the floor. Her gaze snapped back to Astarion, grounding herself in the sheer defiance etched into his smirk.

"Stop wasting time and get in there," he hissed, his fangs bared - not in mockery, but in genuine determination.

Bâlorak reared back, wings unfurling with a slow, deliberate menace. Each vein seemed etched in fire, and when he brought them together, the resulting blast ripped through the chamber. Ashara ducked low, snarling as the wind tore past her. Astarion clung to her back, his weight a sharp reminder of the need to overcome her fear. The stone beneath her trembled, cracks forming in the ground as debris rained from above.

Ashara braced herself, her claws digging into the floor with enough force to gouge deep grooves. Her snarl deepened, the sound raw and guttural. Ice crackled along her limbs, spreading outward in intricate, frostbitten patterns as she tapped into her magic. The tendrils of energy that had pinned her began to buckle, frost climbing their shimmering lengths like ivy choking a wall. With a snap and a howl, she broke free, the shards of magical ice scattering like broken glass.

Ashara surged forward, her massive frame lurching upright. Ice glinted along her fur, spreading up her limbs and rippling along her spine, transforming her into a snarling specter of frost and fury. She planted herself between Astarion and the dragon, gleaming fangs bared in hatred.

Bâlorak's laughter boomed, low and resonant, like the grinding of tectonic plates. "So," he rumbled, his voice dripping with disdain, "it's to be a battle to oblivion again. How tedious."

Bâlorak lunged, his claws carving furrows in the marble as he surged toward Ashara. She leapt to meet him, her ice-coated fur a blur of black and silver. Her jaws snapped shut on his foreleg, teeth sinking through golden scales into the sinew beneath. Frost spread from her bite, creeping along his limb as her magic surged. Bâlorak roared, his massive tail whipping around in a blur.

The tail struck Ashara's side like a battering ram, the force sending her hurtling across the chamber. She slammed into a pillar, the impact cracking the stone and forcing a pained yelp from her throat. She rose unsteadily, blood matting the fur along her flank where the tail's spines had torn through her hide. Her growl deepened, resonating through the chamber as frost spiraled from her maw.

Onyx bounded forward, a massive silver blur of motion. His ice-coated claws left jagged frost trails on the floor as he launched himself at Bâlorak's exposed flank. His teeth tore into the dragon's wing, freezing the thin membrane in an instant. The dragon's roar turned to a snarl as he twisted violently, throwing the direwolf aside. Onyx hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet, unyielding as frost rippled outward from his stance.

"Good boy, Onyx," Karlach's voice boomed as she charged into the fray, her infernal engine glowing brighter with every step. She swung her greataxe in a wide arc, the blade igniting with flames that clashed brilliantly with the chamber's frost. The strike carved into Bâlorak's tail, forcing the dragon to roar and twist away from her.

Behind her, Gale's voice rang out, sharp with urgency. He conjured a spiraling orb of frost and hurled it toward Bâlorak. The ball struck the dragon's shoulder, briefly diverting his attention. Ashara seized the moment. She charged, ice spreading beneath her paws with every step, her jaws open as she unleashed a breath of Frostfire.

The icy inferno engulfed Bâlorak's head, the combination of freezing cold and searing heat forcing a bellow of rage from the dragon. His wings beat against the air, creating a tempest that extinguished the frostfire and hurled Ashara backward. She dug her claws into the floor to stop her slide, but Bâlorak was already on her.

His claws raked down her side, splitting flesh and sending fresh streams of blood spilling onto the frozen floor. Ashara snapped at his chest, her teeth finding purchase and ripping away a plate of gold scales. Bâlorak reared back, his jaws opening to unleash a torrent of molten fire.

A sudden crack of lightning arced across the room, slamming into Bâlorak's neck and forcing him to stumble. Rolan stood at the edge of the chamber, his hands raised, arcs of electricity dancing along his fingers. "How's that for aim, Astarion!" he laughed wildly, sweat pouring down his face.

From somewhere behind her, Ashara heard Astarion's voice call back, "An improvement, but - as I'm assuming you were aiming for his head - it clearly still needs work."

"Piss off!"

A laugh rumbled in Ashara's throat despite the pain she was in. The ease at which her companions found the courage to banter in the midst of battle sent a surge of pride through her heart. They were facing impossible odds, yet refused to be cowed.

She leapt onto Bâlorak's flank, claws scraping for purchase on his slick scales. He twisted violently, throwing her free. She slammed into the chamber wall with a sickening crunch, crumpling to the ground in a heap. For a moment, she lay still, blood pooling beneath her.

Astarion's voice cut in, sharp and confident. "This should sting." He loosed an arrow tipped with an explosive rune. The projectile struck Bâlorak's side, detonating in a burst of green fire.

The dragon turned his rage on the vampire spawn, his molten breath building in his throat, but Karlach was already moving.

"Not so fast, scales-for-brains!" she bellowed, her greataxe slamming into the dragon's exposed flank. Sparks flew as the blade struck true, forcing the breath to dissipate in a harmless gout of flame.

Ashara forced herself upright, trembling and bleeding but unrelenting. Her growls echoed as she darted forward again, aiming for the exposed gap in the dragons scales she'd torn earlier. Her teeth met flesh, and this time she clamped down, refusing to let go. Frost erupted from her bite, spreading deep into the wound. Onyx followed, his massive jaws clamping down on the dragon's hind leg, locking him in place.

Ashara's grip held despite being shaken around like a rat in a terriers jaws as Bâlorak thrashed, his claws raking deep into her side and sending blood spraying across the frost-covered floor. The dragons tail struck Onyx with a bone-shattering crack, hurling the silver direwolf into a wall. Onyx collapsed in a heap, but his low growl persisted, vibrating through the chamber as he forced himself upright.

Ashara's ribs groaned with every labored breath, her body barely obeying her will. Her black fur was streaked with blood, the frost clinging to it melting where crimson trails ran thick. Pain rippled through her limbs with every movement, but her teeth remained buried in Bâlorak's exposed flesh. Frostfire erupted from her maw, the icy blaze surging over his massive form. The chamber lit up with an otherworldly glow as frost and fire waged war against the dragon's molten armor.

Bâlorak roared, the sound shaking loose shards of stone from the chamber walls. His massive claws wrenched her free, slamming her to the ground with bone-jarring force before he hurled her across the room. She crashed into pillar, the impact rattling her skull and sending jagged cracks through the marble. Her body crumpled, blood pooling beneath her as she struggled to rise, her claws scrabbling against the frost-coated floor.

Her gaze darted to Bâlorak, who stood at the center of the room, steam rising from his golden scales. Deep rents ran along his chest and limbs, where her frost had bitten into him and held. Molten blood oozed from the wounds, hissing where it met the frozen ground. Yet his movements were deliberate, his glowing eyes sharp with malice. He saw her falter and capitalized on it, stepping forward with terrifying grace.

Ashara could see the calculation behind his fury. She felt the weight of it, the memory of a past victory she couldn't recall, mocking her now. How had she ever defeated this being? The thought cut deeper than the claws raking her sides.

Then, his gaze shifted. Bâlorak's eyes locked onto Astarion. The vampire stood several paces away, bowstring drawn, his body taut as a wire. His crimson eyes gleamed with concentration, his next explosive arrow ready. The dragon's lips curled into a wicked grin, exposing rows of serrated fangs. His chest expanded, and Ashara's heart froze as his jaws opened wide.

The cone of flames surged out like a tidal wave, roaring toward Astarion. He dove to the side, his movements quick, but not quick enough. The edge of the inferno caught his leg, spinning him to the ground. He gritted his teeth, stifling a cry, but his hand instinctively shot to the burn.

Ashara's eyes widened. Time seemed to slow as she saw the flames sweep toward him, hungry and all-encompassing. Her legs moved before she could think. The battered wolf surged forward, her body screaming in protest, but she ignored it. She planted herself between the flames and Astarion, her massive frame shielding him from the dragon's wrath.

The fire hit her with a force that stole the air from her lungs. It seared through her fur, biting into her flesh. The smell of burning hair filled the chamber. She howled, the sound a raw, piercing cry of agony. Frost erupted from her body in jagged waves, but the intensity of the flames overwhelmed it. The stones beneath her paws began to glow, faint cracks spidering outward as the heat intensified.

Astarion cowered beneath her, his eyes wide with fear. His hands instinctively covered his head as flames licked at her sides, singeing her fur and charring the skin beneath. His voice broke through the roar of the flames, strained and panicked. "Ashara! Move, damn it - get out of the way!"

But she didn't move. She planted herself over him, her claws digging into the heated stone to hold her ground. Her frost aura sputtered and surged, the cold battling the overwhelming heat, but she didn't relent. The dragon stepped closer, pressing the full weight of his fiery breath against her. Her growl turned into a low, agonized whine, her vision blurring as the pain became a relentless wave.

Her frost magic surged one final time, the cold biting into her limbs as she forced the flames back just enough to hold her ground. Bâlorak snarled, his breath finally subsiding as he drew back, steam rising in thick waves from the scorched ground. Ashara wavered, her body trembling as she turned her head to glance at Astarion. His burns were evident, but his crimson eyes held a deep gratitude, sharp and quiet.

Ashara growled low, her battered body refusing to give in as Bâlorak loomed closer, bloodied but far from defeated.


Bâlorak's molten eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as he stepped closer, each ponderous movement sending tremors through the chamber. His massive claws scraped against the cracked stone floor, leaving deep furrows in the ice and blood-covered surface. His golden scales glinted even under the dim light, his towering form radiating unrelenting menace.

"What foolish loyalty you display to such an insignificant, detestable creature..." His voice dripped with mockery, reverberating off the broken pillars and fractured walls. His fanged grin widened as he stared down at Ashara, trembling at his feet. "Pitiful."

Astarion's jaw clenched, the words igniting a cold fury deep in his chest. His fingers tightened on the bowstring still in his hand, though his arrows now felt feeble in the face of the towering beast. He swallowed the anger, turning instead to the battered wolf trembling beside him. Her head hung low, each labored breath rattling like splintering glass. He crouched beside her, his pale hands gripping the icy fur at her nape, fingers trembling with urgency.

"Damn you, Ashara!" he hissed, his voice sharp with fear he refused to name. "Get up. You need to get up... right now or we're all finished!" He tugged harder, but her massive frame barely shifted, her strength dwindling.

In the distance, Karlach charged again, her greataxe blazing with hellfire. The blade crashed into Bâlorak's flank, carving a gash into his molten armor. The dragon barely reacted, his massive tail sweeping across the room in retaliation. Karlach was sent flying, her body slamming into a wall with a sickening thud. Gale's arcane bolts exploded against Bâlorak's golden hide, and Rolan's lightning coiled around his chest, but their efforts were swatted aside as if they were no more than buzzing insects. The dragon's attention remained fixed on Ashara.

The air shifted suddenly, sharp and electric, making Astarion's skin prickle. The faint smell of rain cut through the acrid stench of blood and fire. The dragon's head jerked up, his molten eyes narrowing. His nostrils flared, drawing in a long, deliberate breath.

Then, the sound came.

A keening wail tore through the chamber, an unearthly, soul-rending cry that crashed into Astarion like a wave. The force of it struck his chest, driving the air from his lungs. Grief, raw and all-consuming, swallowed him whole, as though the collective anguish of a thousand lifetimes had been unleashed in a single, mournful cry. His legs buckled under the weight of it, his hands clenching instinctively around Ashara's fur as he fought the overwhelming urge to weep.

Across the chamber, Onyx's silver form went rigid, his fur bristling like a storm-battered thicket. The direwolf tipped his head back, his haunting howl rising to meet the wail. It filled the space, the sound cold and primal, laced with sorrow so deep it chilled Astarion's soul more than any frost Ashara could conjure. His skin crawled, every nerve alight with the unbearable weight of that sound.

Bâlorak hissed, his lips curling in irritation. His head snaked back and forth, moving like a predator scenting something just out of sight. "The child of Selûne is no more..." His voice dropped into a guttural snarl, tinged with something almost like unease. "And Shar walks these halls in triumph."

He dug his claws into the frozen ground, raking deep furrows into the stone. His tail lashed, cracking against the floor with a sound like thunder. The dragon's molten gaze seemed to pierce the very fabric of the chamber, as though peering beyond what mortal eyes could perceive.

"Gods," he spat, the word dripping with disdain. "Too many gods. I sense another rising from the depths... even now."

Astarion's grip tightened on his bow, but he didn't move. He couldn't. The overwhelming pressure of the keening wail, Onyx's mournful howl, and the dragon's dreadful words rooted him in place. The air itself seemed to shudder, charged with something vast and unknowable.

Bâlorak's head snapped back to Ashara. His molten eyes burned into her battered form, a snarl rumbling deep in his throat. "We will continue this at some other time," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "When there are fewer... observers."

Before Astarion could process the words, the air behind the dragon split open. A swirling portal, vast and black, tore through the chamber, its edges shimmering with dark energy. The dragon stepped backward, his massive frame vanishing into the void. His molten eyes burned into Astarion one last time before the portal sealed shut with a resounding crack, leaving the chamber in an eerie, oppressive silence.

Astarion exhaled shakily, his body still braced for a fight that had evaporated in an instant. He turned back to Ashara, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for her fur. "You're alive," he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and disbelief. "Impressive, considering you seemed determined to turn yourself into wolf-shaped kindling."

Ashara let out a low, pitiful whine, her eyes slipping shut as her body began to tremble uncontrollably. Astarion's stomach twisted. Her strength, the overwhelming force she had wielded moments ago, was now a fragile thread threatening to snap. He turned sharply to Onyx, his voice laced with urgency. "Something's wrong..."

The direwolf padded over, his steps deliberate despite the stiffness in his movements. Behind him, the rest of their companions stumbled into view. Bruised, burned, and bleeding, they looked like survivors of a war that had lasted an eternity.

Karlach leaned heavily on her greataxe, using it as a crutch. Her armor was scorched, a long, shallow gash carving across her bicep. Still, she let out a strained laugh, her voice raspy from the effort. "Damn! Not gonna lie, seriously had my doubts about our chances there for a minute."

Onyx stepped closer to Ashara, lowering his massive head to nudge her gently. His voice was steady, calm despite the tension in the room. "Well done, little one."

Astarion's lips quirked despite himself. "Little one?" he echoed, his tone edged with disbelief as his crimson gaze swept over Ashara's hulking form.

Gale's weary voice chimed in as he approached, his face pale and drawn. "A curious choice of words, considering she's the size of a small hill giant."

Astarion's fingers stroked absently along Ashara's side, his sharp eyes darting between her trembling body and Onyx's calm demeanor. "She's... not going to turn into a baby, is she?" His voice was deadpan, though the faintest hint of unease bled into his words.

Karlach snorted, wincing as the movement jostled her injuries. "Come again?"

Onyx huffed a laugh and shook his head. "No. She didn't unleash her full powers, so she is in no danger of rebirth, though she's close to her limit. Right now, she's in a great deal of pain."

Without a word, Gale knelt beside Ashara, his hands already weaving intricate patterns in the air. A soft, green light began to emanate from his fingers, flowing over Ashara's trembling form. Rolan followed suit, his lightning magic dimming as he focused on channeling soothing waves of healing energy.

Karlach stood beside Ashara's head, her hand stroking the wolf's bloodied ears with surprising gentleness. "You're okay now," she muttered, her gravelly voice soft. "You've done enough, big girl. Time to rest, yeah?"

Astarion's gaze flickered between them all, taking in the bruised faces, the exhaustion that hung over them, and the quiet concern etched into every movement. A warmth spread through him, sharp and unfamiliar. It stirred something deep in his chest - something that made his fingers still against Ashara's side for a moment longer.

Shaking it off, he cleared his throat and fixed his attention on Karlach. "How did you even find us? And how are you here? Last I heard, you were rotting in a dungeon."

Karlach leaned back, wincing as she adjusted her weight. She jabbed the blunt end of her greataxe into Gale's shoulder with a lopsided grin. "You can thank this ex-dirtbag for the rescue."

Gale flushed, his hands never pausing in their work. "I prefer 'reformed miscreant'," he muttered, then glanced at Astarion. "When you and Ashara disappeared, Rolan and I didn't have many options, so we went back to Moonrise. Freeing the prisoners seemed... logical."

Rolan nodded, his voice clipped and efficient. "Gale's True Soul act got us inside. We cleared out the guards, freed the last surviving refugees and some Ironhand Gnomes. There was an underground river in the dungeons. It led us straight to Last Light."

Astarion tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. "What about Halsin and Zevlor?"

Karlach's expression darkened, her smile vanishing. She let out a long breath, her fingers tightening around the haft of her weapon. "Taken somewhere else. Don't know where, but... from what I heard, they're set for implantation."

Astarion's lip curled. "And the cleric - Isobel or whatever her name was?"

Karlach shook her head. "Rolan asked about her too, but I didn't see anyone like that."

Ashara's faint voice echoed in his mind, fragile but insistent. "She must have been brought directly to Ketheric… or killed."

The words sent a flicker of unease through Astarion's chest, but he quickly shoved it aside. Instead, he turned his attention to Onyx, his crimson eyes narrowing. "So, who's protecting the inn while you're here? And what's with the new look?" His gaze flicked over Onyx's pure silver coat, his brow raised in skepticism.

Onyx sat back on his haunches, his massive frame radiating calm despite his obvious exhaustion. "Selûne allowed me to leave my post when she sensed Bâlorak had taken Ashara. She temporarily transferred her blessing to another to ensure the sanctuary remains protected, then told me where to find you."

Astarion's brow arched, suspicion evident in the sharp tilt of his head. "Dare I ask who?"

Onyx's teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. "Vaarl."

Astarion's jaw dropped, and he sputtered in disbelief. "Vaarl?! That gangly, starry-eyed Gith? You have got to be joking."

Onyx's shoulders shook with a soft chuckle. "Selûne values his purity of heart and reluctance to harm others. She found him worthy to become one of her Clerics, if he so desires."

Astarion blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching toward a scowl. "Goes to show the gods will recruit just about anyone these days," he muttered, his tone dry as ash. Then, softer, under his breath, "Except vampires."

The chamber fell quiet as Gale and Rolan's magic took hold, the green glow settling over Ashara's battered form. Her breathing grew steadier, her shivering less pronounced. Astarion let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his hand lingering against her fur as he watched her carefully.

Ashara's voice whispered again into his mind. It was faint, strained, each word weighed down by pain. "It hurts... it hurts so much. But I'm glad you're okay."

The lump in his throat rose so suddenly it nearly choked him. He forced it down, his hand moving over her fur in quick, desperate strokes as if the action could soothe her - or himself. His fingers trembled slightly, brushing over patches of frost-matted fur and dried blood, avoiding the wounds that still seeped faintly.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, though his voice cracked on the words. "Just... hold on."

Gale stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides as the glow of his spellwork faded. His exhaustion was evident in the slump of his shoulders, and he wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. "That's as best as I can do," he admitted, his voice tight with regret. "I'm sorry to say I don't have very many healing spells in my repertoire, and I've exhausted all my magical energy."

Rolan grunted, running a hand through his disheveled hair before gripping one of his horns in frustration. "Same," he muttered, his tone sharp. His fingers twitched as if itching to cast another spell, but the faint sparks of power flickering at his fingertips faded almost as quickly as they appeared.

Onyx moved closer, his massive silver form radiating calm. "You have both done enough," he said, his voice low but firm. "Rest now."

Astarion opened his mouth to argue when a swirling black smoke began to rise from Ashara's body. His eyes widened in alarm, his grip tightening instinctively on her blood-matted fur. "She's shifting back," he said, his voice urgent. His gaze darted around the chamber, searching for something to cover her with.

Rolan didn't hesitate. Without a word, the tiefling unclasped his cloak and thrust it into Astarion's hands. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Astarion gave him a rare, grateful look before quickly turning back to Ashara.

The smoke coiled tighter around her before dissipating entirely, leaving her elven form behind. Astarion's breath caught. Her skin was raw, angry red burns covering her arms, shoulders, and face. Blisters marred the worst of the damage, and shallow cuts wept sluggish trails of blood. She let out a faint whimper, her eyes shut tight, tears slipping unbidden from the corners.

Astarion's hands faltered as he adjusted the cloak, his usual confidence abandoned in the face of her pain. He wrapped her carefully, wincing every time she flinched beneath his touch. The soft cry that escaped her lips felt like a dagger twisting in his chest.

"It's alright," he whispered, though his voice wavered. "I've got you."

Sliding his arms beneath her, he lifted her gently, cradling her against his chest. She felt fragile, her body limp and unnervingly light. He adjusted the cloak to shield her fully, her head resting against his shoulder as her breath rasped against his neck.

Looking up at Onyx, his face was grim, his sharp features unusually bare of their usual sardonic mask. "She's badly hurt," he said, his voice tight and low. "We need to get her to a proper healer - fast."

Karlach stepped forward, leaning heavily on her greataxe. "You two go ahead," she rasped, her rough voice softening with a trace of warmth. "We'll make our own way there. Just get her safe."

Onyx's ears flicked back briefly before he let out a low, rumbling bark. The sound reverberated through the room, and before Astarion could question it, a glowing blue portal shimmered into existence. The swirling light bathed the chamber in an otherworldly glow, and beyond the portal's edge, Astarion saw the familiar exterior of the Last Light Inn.

Karlach let out a relieved laugh, her grin wide despite her bruised face. "Gods, I love you, mate," she said, reaching out to scratch behind Onyx's ears.

Onyx's tail wagged once, the faint motion betraying his satisfaction. "Go," he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto Astarion's. "The sanctuary will take care of her."

Astarion held Ashara closer, her shallow breaths tickling against the hollow of his neck. He didn't look back as he stepped through the portal, the light swallowing them whole.

As soon as he emerged on the other side, the noise hit him immediately: the clamor of refugees moving about, Harpers shouting orders, and the occasional sob of someone finally feeling safe enough to break. He had no time to take in the scene before a voice, sharp and demanding, cut through the din.

"Astarion," Jaheira barked, striding toward him with the kind of authority that made even seasoned soldiers flinch. Her green eyes narrowed as she approached, the lines of her face etched deeper with frustration. "What in all the Nine Hells is going on? I come back from a scouting mission to find Tiefling refugees and Ironhand Gnomes everywhere, and the safety of my Harpers in the hands of a spindly Githyanki barely old enough to start shaving."

Her words hit like a barrage of arrows, but Astarion barely registered them. His focus was on Ashara, her head lolling against his chest, her breaths shallow and labored. He growled, the sound low and dangerous, as he swept past Jaheira. "Healing first, questions later."

Jaheira's gaze shifted to the barely conscious woman in his arms, her expression hardening into something unreadable. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp eyes assessed Ashara's burns and trembling form. "Bring her inside," she said curtly, pivoting on her heel and heading for the inn.

Astarion followed, his steps hurried but careful. The inn's common room blurred as he trailed Jaheira into a bunk area tucked in the back. The small space was dimly lit, the faint smell of herbs and poultices hanging in the air.

"Over here," Jaheira said briskly, gesturing to a vacant bed. Astarion moved swiftly, laying Ashara down as gently as his trembling hands allowed. His sharp eyes darted to the other occupied bed, where a dark-skinned man shivered violently, his voice mumbling disjointed phrases and half-sung melodies. The sound grated on Astarion's already frayed nerves.

Ashara whimpered as her back hit the thin mattress, the sound cutting through him. Jaheira wasted no time pulling back the cloak, her sharp intake of breath betraying her reaction to Ashara's injuries. The sight of her raw, blistered skin made Astarion's stomach churn, and he stepped instinctively in front of her to block the view from the others entering the room. His crimson eyes flicked to Rolan and Gale, who quickly averted their gazes, both suddenly fascinated by the cracks in the wooden beams or the scuff marks on the floorboards.

Karlach leaned heavily against the wall before sliding down with a groan, her greataxe clattering to the floor beside her. "Damn," she muttered, her voice rasping as she wiped soot from her face. "Feels like my lungs are full of dragon fire—reminds me of Avernus."

Onyx padded into the room and collapsed beside her, his massive silver body radiating exhaustion. His tongue lolled out as he panted heavily, his glowing coat dimmed with streaks of dirt and blood. Karlach reached over to scratch behind his ears, her expression softening as his tail gave a weak wag.

Jaheira muttered an incantation under her breath, the air around her hands glowing with soft green light as she began weaving druidic healing magic over Ashara's battered form. "Fetch the burn salves and bandages," she called to a Harper lingering by the doorway. The man nodded and disappeared.

Astarion kept his eyes fixed on Ashara's face, his jaw tight enough to ache. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the desire to do something burning in his chest. Pacing to release the restless energy, his boots creaked on the wooden floor as he moved back and forth.

Jaheira's gaze flicked up to him, irritation flashing across her face. "Perhaps you could direct some of that energy into telling me what the hell happened?"

Astarion froze mid-step, then exhaled sharply. "Where do I even begin—"

"Before you do," Jaheira interrupted, her sharp eyes cutting toward Gale and Rolan. She arched an eyebrow, a faint look of disdain tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Why is there a man with you who's dressed like a brothel worker?"

Gale froze, his face flushing a deep crimson. He crossed his arms instinctively over his chest, though the movement only drew more attention to the leather straps on his torso that barely counted as clothing.

Astarion's lips curled into a grin, the tension in the room shifting slightly. "Jaheira, that's no way to talk about Rolan. He put a great deal of effort into that outfit."

Rolan didn't miss a beat, raising his middle finger in response without looking up from the floor.

Gale cleared his throat, his voice stiff. "For the record, this is not my usual or preferred form of attire."

Jaheira's eyebrow arched higher, and she gestured toward him with her free hand. "So the dog collar is just a fashion statement, is it?"

Gale's hand shot up to his neck, his fingers brushing against the leather collar as if noticing it for the first time. His face darkened, the flush giving way to a simmering anger. With deliberate movements, he unfastened the collar and held it in his hands, staring at it for a long moment. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep, shuddering breath before he hurled it toward the nearest window. The leather strap sailed through the broken glass, disappearing into the night.

The tension in the room shifted. Astarion's smirk faltered as he watched Gale, a faint flicker of something unspoken tightening his chest. Empathy, sharp and unwelcome, twisted in his gut as he saw the wizard's usually calm façade crack.

Gale turned back to Jaheira, his expression stony but composed. "If you'll excuse me," he said tightly, his voice controlled and brittle, "I need some air." He turned on his heel and left the room, his steps brisk.

Jaheira stared after him, her mouth tightening briefly. "I'm not sure I want to even ask what that was about."

"Good," Astarion snapped, surprising even himself with the defensive edge to his tone. He scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Because it's none of your damn business."

Jaheira's eyes flicked to him, her expression hard, but something softened at the edges when she saw the look his face. Without another word, she turned back to Ashara, her hands glowing faintly as she carefully applied salve to the burns on her shoulders.

After a moment, she spoke again, her voice steady but quieter. "So... care to tell me what happened now?"


As Astarion begin his recounting of the past few chaotic hours, Onyx turned his head, catching the sight of Gale slipping out the door, shoulders hunched with unspoken tension. With a quiet huff, Onyx stood, his muscles aching as he padded after the wizard, leaving the murmur of the inn behind.

The courtyard was a sea of quiet activity, Harpers attending to the needs of the rescued prisoners and gearing up for some kind of foray. Onyx padded silently across the worn cobblestones, his sharp golden eyes catching Gale's slumped figure by the dried-up fountain. The wizard sat with his head bowed, shoulders tense, as though the weight of the world pressed on his back. The fountain, long empty and cracked with age, seemed a fitting backdrop for Gale's brittle silence.

Onyx paused, his breath misting in the cool air. Just as he began to step forward, a Tiefling woman burst from the shadows, her steps heavy and purposeful. The sharp sound of her boots striking stone made Gale's head snap up, his face clouded with confusion.

"You!" she snarled, pointing a trembling finger at him.

Gale scrambled to his feet, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Miss, I'm not—"

Her open palm cracked across his cheek before he could finish. The sound of the slap echoed sharply in the enclosed courtyard, and Onyx flinched, his ears twitching at the sharpness of it. Gale staggered slightly, his hand flying to his cheek as he stared at the woman, wide-eyed and frozen.

"How dare you have the gall to show your face here, you bastard!" she hissed, her voice shaking with fury. Her red eyes brimmed with tears, her face contorted in grief.

"I..." Gale began, his voice faltering as she cut him off.

"You're one of the monsters who attacked the grove," she spat, her words trembling with raw anger. "You... you killed my husband!" Her voice broke, and tears spilled freely down her face. She clenched her fists as though the act alone kept her upright.

Gale's expression twisted, anguish carving deep lines into his face. "I... I didn't want to hurt anyone..." he stammered, his voice barely audible. "But I had to defend myself."

The words sounded hollow, even to Onyx. A murmur rippled through the rest of the former prisoners, their numbers growing as more emerged from the shadows and the edges of the inn's yard. Onyx could feel their hostility building, a simmering wave of resentment and pain directed entirely at Gale. A Tiefling man stepped forward, his voice low and accusing.

"I saw you, wizard. You did more than defend yourself. You fought on the side of the goblins. You fought with that damned Drow."

Gale paled, his breathing quickening as he stepped back, his heel catching on the edge of the fountain. His trembling hands rose as though to fend off their words, but his voice cracked as he spoke. "You don't understand... I didn't have a choice."

The crowd pressed closer, the anger radiating from them sharp and palpable. A few brandished weapons - a rusted axe, a chipped sword, a heavy stick gripped tightly in white-knuckled hands. Onyx could see Gale's shoulders tense, his trembling fingers beginning to spark with faint arcs of magic. The wizard's eyes darted from face to face, wide and fearful, like a cornered animal.

Onyx didn't hesitate. He let out a single, deafening bay, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like thunder. The force of it seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet. Every head snapped to him, the crowd freezing in place.

He moved with slow, deliberate confidence, his massive frame bristling with frost as he padded to Gale's side. He sat heavily beside the trembling wizard, his silver coat catching the faint moonlight and his cold breath misting in the air. Onyx let his presence speak for him, his sheer size and calm dominance sending an unmistakable message to the crowd. Enough.

The refugees faltered, their anger tempered by nervous glances at the direwolf. Onyx could feel the faint shift in the air as the threat of violence receded slightly.

Beside him, Onyx felt Gale shift closer, almost unconsciously. The wizard's shoulder brushed against his fur, seeking reassurance. Onyx didn't move, didn't flinch. He held his ground, his gaze steady and unyielding as he scanned the crowd. The frost around him deepened, tendrils of cold spreading across the stones at his feet.

The crowd broke apart, their tension dissipating as they stepped back, one by one. The weight of Onyx's presence made their earlier anger feel futile, small. He waited, still and silent, until the last weapon lowered and the murmurs began to fade. Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to disperse, muttering as they backed away. The tiefling woman lingered for a moment, her tears still flowing, but she turned with a sharp sob and disappeared into the shadows.

As the courtyard emptied, Onyx sat back on his haunches, the frost on his fur melting as the tension ebbed away. Gale sank onto the fountain's edge, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Thank you," Gale murmured hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

Onyx tilted his head, his golden eyes watching the wizard carefully. After a moment, he nudged Gale gently, his cold nose pressing against the humans arm. "Follow me," he said, his voice low and steady.

Gale hesitated, his posture stiff, but the weight of Onyx's calm presence pulled him from the chaos of the courtyard. Without another word, Onyx turned and padded toward the riverbank that flowed beneath the stone bridge near the inn. The night air carried a chill, and the gentle murmur of water filled the silence between them. Moonlight danced on the surface of the river, its pale light softening the jagged edges of the broken world around them.

When they reached the bank, Gale stopped, his shoulders rigid as if bracing for an unseen blow. He crossed his arms over his chest, fingers gripping at his exposed skin. Onyx settled beside the water, his silver fur gleaming faintly. He sat in patient silence, watching Gale with eyes that glimmered with quiet understanding.

After a long pause, Gale broke the silence. His voice was brittle, each word edged with bitterness and guilt. "They were right to be angry. I deserve their hatred. Every bit of it. I've done terrible things. Things I can't undo."

Onyx's gaze didn't waver. "Fear can make people do unimaginable things," he said, his tone even but weighted with meaning. "The fight for survival has a way of bending the soul."

Gale closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking slightly. "That's no excuse," he whispered, the words barely audible. "It doesn't change what I've done."

"No, it doesn't," Onyx replied, dipping his head slightly. "But it explains why it happened. That's a start."

Gale's hands fell to his sides, his fingers curling into fists. He moved to a nearby boulder and sank onto it, his body folding inward as he put his head in his hands. His fingers gripped his hair tightly, his breaths coming shallow and uneven. "Mystra forgive me," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I've been a coward. I let that gods-damned dragonborn turn me into his puppet - all because I was too afraid to face death."

Onyx's ears flicked, and he tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he recalled what Rolan had revealed about Gale's unique condition. "You feared more than your own death though, didn't you? The Orb, its potential for devastation - that weighed on you, too."

Gale lowered his hands, his expression twisting with self-loathing. "Does that make it better?" he asked, his voice sharp. "Because my actions weren't entirely selfish?"

Onyx didn't flinch, his steady gaze meeting Gale's. "Did you want to stay with Durge?"

"Of course not!" Gale snapped, his voice rising sharply. He froze for a moment, realizing how vehement his reply was, and then slumped, his head falling forward.

"Exactly," Onyx replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "He was the only option you had at the time, but when the moment came, you turned against him. You chose to fight for something better. That choice - despite the risks - speaks to the man you are."

Gale stared down at his hands as if they were coated in blood only he could see. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "And what kind of man is that? One who betrays himself, his principles... his humanity? I feel like I've already become a monster, even without the tentacles to prove it."

Onyx shifted slightly, lowering his massive head. "If you were truly the monster you think you are, you wouldn't be standing here, mourning the lives you took. Monsters don't mourn, Gale. They revel in destruction."

Gale looked away, his shoulders curling inward as he exhaled shakily. "Every day with Durge felt like a battle to stay human," he said after a long pause. "You wouldn't think it, seeing the way he fights with a blade, but he's a sorcerer. He uses magic as a weapon in ways that are... cruel. He took great delight in tormenting me. Belittling me. Because I'm 'just' a wizard."

His gaze dropped to his chest, his expression twisting into a scowl as his fingers brushed the flimsy straps of his attire. "Even this - we found it in an abandoned house, and Durge though it would be funny to make me wear it," he snorted bitterly. "It was his way of keeping me weak. Exposed. Reliant on him for protection. The irony is he was the one who caused the most harm. I was his punching bag. His... plaything."

Onyx straightened, his ears twitching slightly. The thought that had been hovering in the back of his mind pressed forward, sharp and unwanted. "Did he ever try to harm you in... other ways?" he asked, his voice quiet but weighted with an underlying meaning.

Gale went pale, his hands clenching in his lap. He swallowed hard, his throat working as he processed the question. "No," he said finally, his voice trembling. "Thank the gods, no." He hesitated, his gaze darting to the water before continuing. "He tried once. When he was drunk." Gale's lip curled, a faint flash of anger breaking through the sorrow on his face. "Fortunately, Shadowheart is the jealous type. She demanded his attention, and he was more than happy to oblige." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I think that's the only time I've been grateful for that Sharran bitch."

Onyx let out a slow breath, his eyes watching Gale closely. He didn't speak immediately, letting the weight of the moment settle. Finally, he said, "You survived him. And now you've turned against him. That's more than most could say."

Gale's shoulders slumped further, but some of the tension eased from his frame. "Maybe," he murmured. "But it doesn't feel like enough."

"It's a start," Onyx replied, his tone resolute. "And sometimes, that's all we can ask for."

Gale didn't answer, but the smallest nod betrayed that he'd heard.

Onyx rose silently from the riverbank, his powerful frame moving with fluid grace as he padded closer to Gale. The wizard sat hunched, his shoulders curled inward, every line of his body radiating a heavy, oppressive weight. Without a word, Onyx lowered himself behind Gale, pressing his massive body against the man's back and lowering his head to rest over Gale's shoulder. The gesture enveloped Gale in a cocoon of warmth, a silent, unspoken embrace.

Gale stiffened, his breath hitching at the unexpected contact. For a moment, he remained frozen, his hands gripping the edges of the boulder. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached up to ruffle the fur along Onyx's neck, his fingers trembling slightly. The motion was awkward, but a faint flicker of relief passed across Gale's face as he allowed himself to lean back into the direwolf's steady presence.

"You are safe now, Gale," Onyx murmured, his voice calm and low, resonating with quiet authority. "For as long as you stay with Ashara and her pack, Durge can never reach you, and the tadpole will not transform you."

Gale's breath hitched again, sharper this time. Onyx felt him tense beneath his head, his fingers pausing mid-motion in the wolf's fur. The air between them grew heavy, thick with emotions that Gale seemed to be fighting to suppress.

"Leave your past actions where they belong," Onyx continued, his voice steady and deliberate, each word chosen with care. "In the past. What matters now is that you do not repeat them. Focus on making up for them in the present."

For a long moment, Gale didn't respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained, as if dragged from somewhere deep within. "I intend to..." he whispered, his words carrying a weight that Onyx didn't miss.

Onyx shifted, his ears flicking back. He sensed the darkness lurking beneath Gale's tone, a shadow that refused to be banished so easily. Gently but firmly, he pressed his chin more snugly against Gale's shoulder, his warmth a steadying force. "Throwing your life away will not make up for the things you have done," he said, his tone firm but gentle. "It is only a way to escape the consequences. But the ones you wronged? They're still left with the pieces."

Gale stiffened again, his head tilting downward as if ashamed. "Not according to Mystra," he said, his voice tight. "She demands that I sacrifice myself to destroy the Absolute."

Onyx growled softly, the sound low and rumbling, more a vibration than a noise. It wasn't anger - ait was disapproval, laced with a trace of sadness. "I see..." he said carefully. His sharp eyes watched Gale's profile, noting the deep lines etched into his face. "And do you intend to do so?"

"Yes." Gale's voice was steady now, but it carried a hollow ring. "It's the only way I can atone for everything I've done."

For a moment, Onyx said nothing. He simply watched Gale, his steady presence unyielding. The faint rustle of the river filled the silence, the moonlight casting pale shadows across Gale's face.

"Might I suggest a change in deities?" Onyx said at last, his tone even, though there was the faintest edge of dry humor beneath it. "I can recommend one who does not require such drastic measures for absolution."

Gale startled, a bark of laughter escaping him before he could stifle it. It was sharp, brittle, and tinged with bitterness, but it was laughter nonetheless. He shook his head, his fingers gripping Onyx's fur tighter as his voice cracked with bitter amusement. "If only it were that simple," he mumbled.

"It could be," Onyx countered, his voice calm but resolute. He shifted his head slightly, his golden eyes piercing as they locked onto Gale's profile. "Choose to live. Take one day at a time on the road to redemption. It is not a simple path, but it is a path nonetheless."

Gale stared at the river, his gaze distant and unfocused. The moonlight caught the faint glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly, his expression tight.

Onyx pressed on, his tone firmer now. "What does Mystra's forgiveness mean if you're gone? Would the people you've harmed care about a god's absolution?"

Gale's shoulders slumped slightly, his posture less certain than it had been moments ago. He didn't speak, but Onyx sensed the turmoil in the silence.

Onyx leaned closer, the weight of his presence both steadying and unyielding. "You can't undo the past," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "But you can do something for the living - now. That's where your debt lies. Not in the approval of a deity who asks for your death but in the lives you can still save. In the wrongs you can still right."

Gale sat motionless, his fingers curling and uncurling in Onyx's fur as he stared at the river flowing quietly before them. His breathing evened out, but the fight inside him was still visible in the tense set of his jaw and the flicker of emotion in his eyes.

"Maybe..." Gale began softly, his voice uncertain, almost hesitant. "Maybe you're right."

Onyx didn't respond immediately, allowing the quiet to settle between them. The faint rustle of leaves in the wind and the gentle ripple of the river filled the space as the wizard's resolve began to shift. When Onyx finally spoke again, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

"You've already taken the first step, by helping Ashara the way you did," he said. "Keep walking. One day, you'll find the redemption you seek - not through death, but through life."

Gale's hand stilled against Onyx's fur, and the wizard nodded faintly, the smallest spark of hope beginning to glimmer in his eyes.

Onyx's ears flicked as Astarion's voice broke the quiet with dry irreverence. "On that inspiring note, how do you feel about risking your life on a mission to kill an unkillable cult leader?"

Gale and Onyx both turned, catching sight of the vampire lounging against the stone bridge, his arms crossed and his crimson gaze glinting. He tossed a bundle of clothes toward Gale with a flick of his wrist. "You'll probably want to get changed first, though."

Gale caught the bundle with a frown, unfolding it to reveal a set of suspiciously familiar mage robes. Onyx tilted his head, one silver brow lifting as he glanced at Astarion.

Astarion grinned, his fangs just visible in the moonlight. "Yes, I stole them from Rolan. He seems quite enamored with his new 'evil cult member' disguise anyway. Frankly, I think it suits him."

Gale's lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through his otherwise grim expression. He began undoing the straps of his tattered clothing, his movements slow but more deliberate than before. "I take it we're going after Ketheric again?" he asked, glancing at Astarion as he worked.

Astarion nodded, the faint grin on his face fading into something more serious. "Jaheira believes the death of Selûne's daughter and Bâlorak's cryptic remark about 'another god rising' might be tied to Ketheric's immortality." He paused, his tone turning wry. "I personally think it's a bit of a stretch... but if Durge had a hand in it, I wouldn't put it past him to have figured out Ketheric's weakness."

Onyx settled back on his haunches, his silver coat catching the moonlight as he spoke. "Durge may be our enemy, but his goal in destroying Ketheric could work to our advantage."

Astarion nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Precisely Jaheira's thinking. She's assembling a task force to assault Moonrise, and - lucky us - we've all been invited to the party."

Onyx's gaze flicked toward the inn, his voice quiet but firm. "And Ashara?"

Astarion's face softened for a brief moment before he huffed, his tone slipping into mock grumbling. "She's blissfully asleep, utterly unaware of how much stress she's causing me. But," he added with a sharp glint in his eye, "if that insufferable dragonborn shows his snout at Moonrise, I fully intend to make good on my promise to put an arrow through it. So, naturally, I've already volunteered."

Onyx turned to Gale, who was now dressed in the dark red robes. The sharp lines of his shoulders and the steadier set of his jaw hinted at a shift in the wizard's demeanor. The flicker of vulnerability that had clung to him moments ago was replaced by a colder resolve. Gale adjusted the hem of the robe before speaking, his voice darker and more confident. "Count me in. I may not be back to full strength, but I have enough magic left to make it hurt."

Onyx rose to his full height, stretching his massive frame. His tail swayed behind him, and his voice carried a quiet certainty. "Then it's off to Moonrise we go."

Astarion's grin widened, his fangs glinting in the faint light. "Nothing like storming a fortress of despair with questionable odds," he said with a mocking lilt. "Should be fun."

Gale let out a faint huff of laughter, his expression grim but resolute. Onyx padded closer, his presence steady and grounding. Together, they began the trek back toward the inn, the moonlight casting their shadows long across the ground as they prepared for the battle ahead.