As the first light of dawn touched the sky, casting a soft amber glow across the horizon, Ashara and Astarion, astride Onyx, reached the summit of a hill on the path to the Emerald Grove. Beneath them, the world unfurled like a tapestry - the river Chionthar wound its way through dense forests, a silver thread bordered by swathes of dark, ancient trees.

But the sight that held Ashara captive was the twisted wreck of the Nautiloid, its grotesque shape unmistakable even from a distance. As the sunlight unfurled, it exposed the peculiar glint of metal and pulsating organic matter, lying like some immense dead sea creature on the shoreline.

Ashara's breath caught, her eyes wide in awe and something like revulsion. "Wow… I've heard about Illithid ships, but I've never seen one in person."

Behind her, Astarion's scoff broke the spell. "Lucky you," he muttered, his tone clipped. "I've seen more of that ship's interior than I ever cared to. And none of it was this scenic."

Onyx, sensing their subtle shift in mood, lowered himself to the ground. Ashara dismounted fluidly, patting his neck in gratitude. She felt Astarion's weight disappear from behind her, only to hear a faint stumble, followed by the rustle of fur.

She turned, catching sight of Astarion clutching onto Onyx's coat for support, his pale face marred by a fleeting grimace. Despite his defiant grin, the faint tremor in his hands betrayed him.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice soft, eyes narrowing as she observed the stiffness in his movements.

"Of course," he replied, voice straining with forced cheer as he shifted, trying to regain his balance. "Perfectly fine. It's just that my legs seem to have staged a mutiny. Who knew that sitting on your arse for five hours could be quite this exhausting?" He let out a self-deprecating laugh that sounded closer to a sigh.

Ashara chuckled, unable to resist rubbing her own aching backside in empathy. "You get used to it, sort of. At least we're on foot from here." She glanced at Onyx, giving him a firm nod. "Scout ahead for us, and maybe… warn the Grove we're on our way?"

Astarion's expression shifted, his usual sarcastic edge returning, though his gaze held a wary gleam. "This would be the same Druid's Grove led by a child-murdering fanatic, yes?"

At that, Onyx lifted his head, baring his teeth in a silent snarl, a deep rumble vibrating through him. "Not unless Halsin has gone mad…"

Astarion moved toward a boulder, leaning against it with a sigh as he stretched, wincing slightly as he eased his muscles. "The last time I visited, a charming zealot by the name of Khaga was calling the shots," he said, his words laced with a bitter disdain. "Halsin had apparently gotten himself captured by goblins in some rundown Selunite temple. We thought he might have a good idea about how to cure us - seeing as he's been studying the infected."

He sat down heavily on the bolder, rubbing his face tiredly as he continued, "So my erstwhile companions and I were about to stage a rescue… right up until we encountered a delightful Gur hunter in the swamps. You know how that particular adventure went."

Ashara pulled a canteen out from her bag and unscrewed it, letting the cold water slip down her throat before speaking. "Do you think they managed to rescue him?"

Astarion gave a careless shrug, his eyes distant. "Perhaps. Or maybe Durge left him to rot - who's to say? Either way, I'd tread lightly if I were you."

"Durge?" Ashara echoed, curiosity sparking in her tone.

"The Dragonborn," he said, his voice low, nearly lost to the wind. "That was all he could remember about himself. He woke up on that infernal ship with no memories except for a name, and somehow, that… scaly white juggernaut still ended up leading our little band of survivors. Quite the inspiring tale, isn't it? Proof that brute strength and a knack for violence are all one really needs to inspire loyalty."

As he spoke, Astarion's fingers drifted absently to his chest, tracing the frayed edges of his torn shirt where Vassa's dagger had sliced through. His fingers paused, trembling slightly as they lingered over the rip, the brief, haunted look in his eyes speaking more than he likely intended.

Ashara's gaze softened, her decision coming as naturally as a breath. "We've been traveling all night," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "While Onyx scouts ahead, how about we make camp here and rest a bit? I'll look through my supplies and see if I can find you some new clothes and armor, too."


Astarion stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "I suppose I could use a rest… I didn't get much chance to sleep while in that cage."

Ashara nodded to Onyx, who responded with a nuzzle against her shoulder before slipping into the shadowed forest, his movements unnervingly silent for a creature of his size. Astarion watched, caught between admiration and disbelief how Onyx's massive frame vanished so effortlessly. A creature of shadows, much like himself.

His attention shifted back to Ashara, who had knelt on the ground, hands digging into the soil as she murmured something in a language he didn't recognize. Her words were soft, lilting, and the air around them seemed to hum in response. A faint glow began to spread from the earth beneath her hands, threads of green light snaking up through the soil.

To Astarion's astonishment, the earth parted, revealing a small portal, a pool of otherworldly energy that pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of some ancient being. He watched, entranced, as she plunged her arm in up to her shoulder, her expression focused and calm.

One by one, she pulled items from the portal: bags, pouches, and loose objects which she examined with a discerning eye before either setting them aside or dropping them back into the mysterious opening. Astarion's eyes widened as she continued to produce items from the depths, muttering to herself in half-whispered fragments as she went.

"Where on earth did I put that leather jerkin?" she murmured, her brow furrowed in mild frustration.

A moment later, she tossed a pair of trousers and a thick belt toward him. He caught them, pleased to see they were at least clean - more rustic than he was used to, but serviceable. The sudden clink of metal made him glance down, where a shortsword and dagger now lay in the grass beside him. He picked up the sword, testing its weight and balance. As he reached for the dagger, he felt a faint, tingling energy thrumming through its handle, unmistakably enchanted - and expensive.

He glanced up at Ashara, his brows raised in surprise, but she was still rummaging through her belongings, muttering to herself. "I really need to have a clear out and label this stuff properly…"

Glancing up, she registered the look on his face. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes flicking to meet his. "Don't you like them?"

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat as he tried to wrap his mind around her generosity. "It's not that… you just handed weapons a vampire who held you at knife point less than five hours ago."

She tilted her head, her expression shifting to something unreadable. "And?"

Astarion's fingers tightened around the dagger. "You don't see any problem in that?"

She studied him, her gaze lingering thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing him. "Why… are you planning on using them to hurt me?"

The question was so direct it almost threw him off balance. He blinked, momentarily disarmed. "Well… no. But the point is I could."

Her mouth curved into a soft smile, a subtle challenge dancing in her eyes. "I think you're smart enough to realize that would be a bad idea."

He let out a short laugh, tinged with a hint of incredulity. "And what if I wasn't?"

With a careless shrug, Ashara returned to rummaging through her supplies. "Then you'd have a very large and very pissed-off direwolf hunting you for all eternity." She threw another bag at him, spilling an array of colorful fabrics at his feet. "Here, try on a few of these."

Astarion ran his fingers over the materials, marveling at the textures. Silks mingled with coarser linen and cotton, and he caught his breath, fingers lingering on a deep blue shirt trimmed with silver. He held it up, admiring the way the fabric shimmered.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked, still holding the shirt as if it were some relic.

Ashara looked almost sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm a bit of a… loot goblin. You wouldn't believe the things Onyx and I find on our adventures. Some of it's from grateful people, but most… is scavenged from ruins and, well… corpses."

He chuckled, fingering the silver embroidery, which on closer examination appeared to be tiny, star-shaped flowers. "Corpses have excellent taste."

Ashara shrugged and nodded towards the shirt witha smile. "Not exactly practical, but you can have it if you want. I prefer purple."

She returned to the portal, her hand reaching in and then freezing in frustration. "Now, if I could just find that blasted jerkin…" With an exasperated huff, she bent forward, her entire upper body disappearing into the portal. Muffled curses floated back to him, punctuated by the occasional thump as she shuffled things around.

Astarion watched, momentarily transfixed, until his eyes landed on her - half in, half out of the portal, her backside angled toward him as she searched.

"Dear Lords… save me from temptation," he murmured, smirking to himself as he quickly looked away when she straightened, triumphantly holding a black leather jerkin.

"Found it!" she crowed, brandishing it aloft. "It was tucked away behind the minotaur skull."

She caught his sly grin as he avoided her gaze, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. "Surprised you didn't think about kicking me in."

He matched her smile, shrugging. "The thought did cross my mind."

She laughed, a light, genuine sound that echoed through the trees, before turning her gaze to the scattered bags and objects around the portal. She groaned, opening her arms and scooping everything up, dumping it all unceremoniously back into the glowing pool. She whispered a soft word, sealing the earth with a shimmer, and brushed her hands off with a satisfied nod. "I'll sort that lot out another time."

"I'll give you some privacy to change while I go set up camp further back," she added, slinging a large canvas roll over her shoulder and heading off without another word.

He watched her disappear among the trees before looking back at the items in his hands. He stroked the silk shirt again, feeling the weight of it, the promise of comfort and warmth. The dagger's enchanted hum thrummed in his hand, a reminder of how little anyone had ever willingly offered him. Durge had always kept the finest spoils, and Cazador… well, Cazador had only ever given him orders and pain. The casual generosity of Ashara was as baffling as it was unsettling.

For a moment, he wondered, uncertain. He didn't believe for one second that all of these gifts came without a price. The question was… what would that price be?

Astarion barely suppressed a shiver when he felt it- a prickle of awareness, a sense of eyes on him. He turned, already half on edge, and nearly leapt out of his skin to find Onyx sitting beside him, staring with an unervingly calm expression. The wolf's scrutiny sent a strange chill down Astarion's spine, making him feel as if every secret he held was exposed under that steady, knowing stare.

He pressed a hand to his chest, glaring as he attempted to steady his breathing. "Don't do that to me!"

Onyx's lips pulled back in what could only be described as a grin. "It was funny."

Astarion narrowed his eyes, but there was something oddly playful in the wolf's unblinking gaze. Before he could come up with a retort, a thought struck him, and his gaze sharpened. "Were you watching us the whole time?"

"Yes," Onyx replied, his tone devoid of apology. "Ashara may be quick to trust, but I am not."

Astarion shifted, uneasy under the weight of Onyx's presence as the wolf rose and circled him, positioning himself so that Astarion had no choice but to look up. Onyx's bulk was formidable, his dark fur blending into the forest shadows, his eyes unwavering. Astarion felt small, as if he were a rabbit caught beneath the watchful eye of a hawk.

He raised his hands, trying for a diplomatic tone. "I have no intention of—"

"While at times Ashara displays a wisdom beyond her age, she is still very young," Onyx interrupted him with a deep sigh. "Much of her life has been spent isolated from others of her kind, so she does not always behave the way an adult is expected to."

Astarion forced a smile, an attempt at deflection. "Let me guess, she was raised by wolves."

Onyx's expression remained as blank as stone before he responded, deadpan. "No. She was raised by a human man after he found her abandoned in the forest as a newborn."

There was a long pause. Astarion felt an odd prickle of discomfort in the silence, a tension that only lessened when Onyx's mouth curled in a strange, canine smile. "He was the one raised by wolves."

A slow smile crept over Astarion's face despite himself. Against his better judgment, he was beginning to like this creature's strange sense of humor. "Ah… I take it she's not had much in the way of socialising then?"

Onyx's head dipped in agreement, his golden eyes glimmering with a faint sadness. "Unfortunately, no. She was taught how to survive in the wilds by a recluse who was pure-hearted and loyal, but who shunned his own kind. When he died, not more than three years ago, Ashara was left to navigate this world alone, unprepared for how harsh it can be. I have done my best to protect her, but she is still too inexperienced. She treats strangers with caution and suspicion, but those she likes enough to call friend are trusted unconditionally."

The wolf's gaze sharpened, drilling into Astarion, his unspoken judgment hanging in the silence. "Many would take advantage of this. I think, perhaps, you also intend to."

Astarion flinched at the accusation, feeling heat rise under his collar as he struggled to meet Onyx's eyes. He hated that the wolf could see through him so clearly, his intentions laid bare. Guilt prickled at him, mingling with irritation at the audacity of being confronted by a creature who barely knew him.

He lifted his head, forcing himself to meet the wolf's eyes with a defiant tilt to his chin. "I have no intention of harming Ashara, but if she wants to show generosity toward me, I don't see why I can't… take advantage of that."

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Onyx's gaze remained unreadable as Astarion's heart thudded in his chest, a relentless beat that seemed to echo in his ears. Finally, the wolf lay down, folding his massive paws beneath him. His head was now level with Astarion's, close enough that he could see the individual shades of amber swirling in those keen eyes.

"Taking advantage of her generosity is not what I am concerned about," Onyx said, his tone laced with a quiet authority. "She has far too many possessions in my opinion - I should never have taught her that 'Hidden Earth' spell. She hoards trinkets like a magpie."

Astarion's lips twitched at the wolf's disgruntled tone. He could almost picture Onyx sighing in exasperation.

"No," Onyx continued, his voice taking on a grave weight. "I am speaking of something deeper. Now that you are a member of her pack, she will defend you with her life. Do not take this for granted, and do not deliberately place her in a position where she must choose between protecting you and doing what is right."

Astarion felt a flash of irritation prickling under his skin, his chest tightening with defiance. "I'm not exactly eager to go looking for trouble. Believe me, I'd rather stay comfortably in the shadows and let you and Ashara make all the grand decisions."

His words, meant to be calm, came out sharper, more clipped. The tension was rising, a restless energy that made it impossible to stay still. He pushed to his feet, pacing with a quick, agitated stride, his emotions bubbling to the surface in spite of himself. "Maybe I could rob you both blind and disappear into the night, but what good would that do me? I have no idea how much time I have left before this… thing inside my head decides to turn me into a mind flayer. I'm out of allies, out of ideas, and desperate. So, yes, I'm only joining you to survive, to find some hope that I might escape this fate, but you can be damn sure I won't be doing anything to jeopardize this… alliance."

Astarion spun on his heel, his glare sharp as a blade, every nerve within him thrumming with anger and a frantic need to prove himself. "Does that satisfy you?" His voice was barely steady, the words trembling with unspoken fear. "Or are you still planning to drop me in the middle of nowhere, like you originally intended?"

His breath came in shallow, unsteady gasps, each one a struggle against the tightness squeezing his chest. He clawed at his shirt as though he could physically wrench the panic out, but it only grew, thick and suffocating. His vision wavered, and his fingers sought out the solidity of a nearby rock, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. His heart drummed in his chest, fast and erratic, a frantic beat that he couldn't control.

"What's happening to me?" he managed, voice a thin thread barely holding steady.

Onyx stood, padding over to him with a measured calmness, the wolf's gaze piercing with both concern and quiet understanding. "You appear to be having a panic attack."

Astarion scowled, the observation feeling like a slap. "What? No… don't be ridiculous. I haven't had one of those in centuries. It must be the tadpole."

But the thought of that parasite, burrowed in his skull and slowly gnawing away at his very sense of self, only made his breathing worse. His vision clouded with dread, his mind latching onto the horrifying image of himself as a mind flayer, his own body twisted into something grotesque and alien. The edges of his vision darkened, closing in as he spiraled deeper into the fear.

Then, cutting through the haze, a soft, steady voice spoke up. "Onyx is right." Astarion's gaze snapped to the side, where Ashara stood, her expression sympathetic. "I get these all the time, so he knows what they look like."

Astarion's stomach sank, the mortification settling over him like a cold mist. He felt exposed, raw, stripped of the cool composure he usually wore so well. "I'm fine," he stammered, the betrayal of his voice stinging even as he tried to control it. "I j-just… n-need t-to rest."

The words felt weak, hollow, mocking him in his own voice. His mind lashed out at him, a cruel whisper: Stop being so weak and pathetic!

Ashara took a step forward, determination hardening her gaze. "Sit down here, on the ground, just for a moment."

Suspicion flickered in his eyes as he took a step back, resisting. "Why?"

"Just trust me, okay?"

Astarion hesitated, every instinct screaming at him to flee, to find some semblance of control on his own terms. The world felt too close, too stifling. He prepared to bolt when he felt a solid nudge at the backs of his legs, Onyx pressing him forward with an insistent force that left him stumbling and abruptly landing on the ground. Before he could even protest, the wolf's massive paws settled on either side of him, boxing him in. His broad head lowered over Astarion's shoulder to pin him gently but firmly in place.

"What are you doing?!" Astarion's eyes darted, wild and full of panic, his instincts recoiling at the physical restraint. He struggled, twisting and pummelling his fists into Onyx's head, but the wolf's weight was immovable.

Ashara's voice reached him again, smooth and soft, soothing as a lullaby. "Listen to his heartbeat, Astarion. Feel the rise and fall of his chest, and try to match your breathing to his."

"Stop this! I don't need your—"

The heat from Onyx's body began to seep into Astarion, the rich scent of pine and fresh-cut grass filling his senses. The warmth, unexpected and primal, touched something deep inside of him, breaking through the icy panic gnawing at his mind. He stilled, his protest dying on his lips.

Slowly, the rhythm of Onyx's steady heartbeat resonated through his body, a quiet lull that eroded away at his fear. Without realizing, Astarion allowed himself to sink back, his rigid form softening as he let the wolf's warmth envelop him. He reached out, his fingers stroking the thick fur along Onyx's leg, feeling the softness, grounding himself in that small, repetitive motion. With each inhale, he worked to match the steady, even rise and fall of the wolf's chest, forcing his breath to find that same tempo.

Gradually, the storm of panic ebbed, the tightness in his chest loosening as his body surrendered to the calm that radiated from Onyx's presence. It was almost foreign, this sense of being anchored, held by something solid and sure. A faint, reluctant smile tugged at his lips, and he mumbled, "Actually… this is rather nice."

A voice, gentle yet perceptive, slipped into his mind. "You fear being alone in this," Onyx murmured, his words not judgmental but rather an observation, a truth spoken softly. "That when the time comes, you will have to face it without aid."

Astarion's jaw clenched, the instinct to deny flaring up, but he said nothing, unwilling to expose that raw, aching wound. Onyx seemed to sense the silence, not pressing further, letting the moment speak for itself.

When Onyx finally continued, his tone was softer, devoid of the sharp edge that had haunted their earlier exchange. "Do not take my previous words as a threat, Astarion. I only wish you to understand the nature of those with whom you have chosen to ally. We are not like this Durge who abandoned and betrayed you. We will not bully, manipulate or control you as your former master did. All we ask is that you contribute in your own way, whether that's standing beside us in battle…"

Onyx raised his head to look at Ashara, a grin forming on his mouth. "Or by simply helping this little magpie tidy up her pocket dimension."

A soft laugh escaped from Ashara, and Astarion let out a reluctant chuckle of his own, caught off-guard by the dry humor in the wolf's voice. He found himself smirking, almost in spite of himself. "Oh no, I'm not nearly brave enough to take on that mess," he quipped, his tone dry as he shot Ashara a quick look. "I'll stick to fighting, if it's all the same to you."

Onyx huffed, his warm breath ruffling Astarion's hair. "Wise choice."

Becoming more aware of the strange position he was in, Astarion shifted, squirming under the wolf's weight. "You can stop… hugging me now," he muttered, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice.

Onyx lifted his head and slowly rose, stepping back but remaining close, his golden eyes reflecting an unexpected softness. As Astarion regained his footing, he felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and… relief. He didn't want to admit it, but for the first time in ages, he felt a flicker of safety, even if it was conditional, even if it was fragile.

He cleared his throat, his voice reasserting a touch of haughtiness. "Ahem… now that's out of the way - if you'll excuse me, I have some clothes to try on." His attempt at casualness rang with faint note of self-conciousness as he stiffly strode over to the bundle of clothing, lifting it with a deliberate sort of dignity before slipping behind a nearby rock to change.


Ashara watched him go, the slightest curve of concern in her brow before she turned to Onyx. Leaning into his side, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face briefly in his thick fur. The warmth and earthy scent grounded her, easing the ache of old memories.

"I never thought I'd see someone else go through that." Her voice was low, almost as if confessing to herself. She tilted her head, looking into Onyx's warm, wise eyes. "Is that how I look when I'm having a panic attack?"

Onyx nuzzled her shoulder gently, his breath warm against her neck. "You are a little less violent," he murmured with a touch of humor, "but yes."

He glanced toward the rock where Astarion had disappeared. His gaze lingered, thoughtful. "I must admit to being surprised by the intensity of his fear. I think this one has suffered… more than most. Perhaps more than he'd care to admit to."

Ashara sighed, glancing down, her voice a soft whisper. "I didn't think a vampire could have something as… well… mortal as a panic attack."

Onyx scratched at his ear, his claws sinking briefly into his dark fur. "True Vampires, those who have fully succumbed to the transformation, are closer to death than life. But vampire spawn… they remain closer to life, not all that different to us. They still breath air, their hearts still beat - albeit extremely slowly. They still experience the same pain, fears, desires… and yes, it would seem even trauma lingers in them."

Ashara absorbed this, her brow knitted in thought. "Then why are all vampires considered evil monsters?"

Onyx turned to her with a look that held centuries of knowledge. "True Vampires are inherently corrupt, thirsting for power and devouring whatever they touch. If they enslave their spawn in the way Astarion says they do… it's little wonder the world views those like him as nothing but extensions of their masters' evil."

A voice drifted from behind them, dry with faint bitterness. "Which apparently gives every monster hunter license to kill us on sight."

Ashara and Onyx turned to see Astarion emerging, now clad in his new attire. He carried himself with a grace that bordered on defiance as he raised a sardonic eyebrow, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeve. "You do know I could still hear you both, right?"

Onyx gave an exaggerated yawn, his jaw stretching wide. "Whoops," he said, his tone as casual as if he'd accidentally stepped on a twig.

Astarion's gaze narrowed, but he shook it off, stepping forward and striking a pose with an exaggerated flourish. "So, how do I look?"

Ashara tilted her head, taking in his appearance with a discerning eye. The black leather clung neatly to his frame, accentuating his lithe build. Beneath it, a crisp white linen shirt set off his pale skin, though she noticed a hint of blue silk peeking out from a bag slung from his belt beside the sword, now fastened at his hip.

"That jerkin suits you far better than it did me," she observed with a slight smile.

He shot her a smirk, a trace of playful arrogance in his expression. "Yes, I think you'll find that about most clothes."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he looked to Onyx, his curiosity piqued. "How exactly do you know so much about vampires?"

Onyx's eyes sparkled with mystery as he stood, stretching his powerful limbs in preparation to move on. "I know much about many things." His tone was smooth, refusing to yield more than that.

Ashara could tell Astarion wasn't satisfied with the answer, but as Onyx started forward, his posture signaling it was time to press on, neither she nor Astarion could do much but fall in step with him.

A few paces on, Onyx paused, lifting his head to the breeze, his voice lowering to a grave tone. "The Grove has been overrun by goblins. It would be wise to rest here before we go further."

Ashara blinked, surprise flaring in her eyes. "How do you know? You weren't gone long enough to reach it."

Onyx glanced back at her, his eyes glinting. "The ravens told me. They were boasting about the bounty of carrion after a battle that took place there recently."

Astarion let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, that's a shame. It was such a charming little spot."

Ashara shot him a reproachful look. "It's more than just a shame. It's disastrous. The Emerald Grove was a safe haven, a place of refuge and a key source for supplies." She looked off into the distance, brow furrowing with worry. "I was hoping we could stock up on alchemical supplies before heading further up the coast."

Astarion raised a brow, his gaze calculating. "I doubt the current occupants will be too keen on accommodating a shopping spree. However… I might have a way around that."

Ashara looked at him, her interest piqued. "How?"

"One thing we discovered about these… tadpoles," Astarion continued, the faintest sneer gracing his lips, "is that they've inspired a new cult. Those infected are seen as blessed, supposedly able to hear the whispers of some grand, elusive goddess they call The Absolute."

Onyx snorted, unimpressed. "Sound like idiots to me."

"Just so," Astarion replied with an air of superiority. "But they're idiots who practically fall over themselves to serve those they call 'True Souls.' As it happens, I am one of them." He finished with a flourish, his smirk taking on a sly, almost mischievous edge.

Ashara's lips quirked. "An idiot or a True Soul?"

Astarion narrowed his eyes at her, a hint of hurt pride in his expression. "Do you want my help or not?"

Chastened, Ashara looked away, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Sorry. Please, go on."

"The point is," Astarion continued, "I could walk up to the gates of the Grove, and they'd let me in without a second thought. We might even be able to gather whatever supplies we need if we claim it's for the Absolute's 'divine cause.'"

Ashara turned to Onyx, seeking his counsel. "What do you think? Should we take the risk?"

Onyx's gaze drifted back in the direction of the grove, his eyes narrowing as he weighed the decision. After a contemplative silence, he gave a low huff. "It's risky, but the chance to infiltrate the goblins and learn more about this cult might be worth it."

Ashara looked to Astarion, giving him a resolute nod. "Then it's settled. We'll rest until mid-afternoon. After that, we make for the grove."