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AMAYA POV

The Harpers were good enough to allow us some respite in their haven, Last Light Inn, and while it was good to have actual walls around us again, I couldn't help but feel restless. Yes we were protected from the shadows, within this barrier, but clearly it wasn't perfect. That Markus fuckwad had flown right in and tried to steal Isobel away. And that hardly sounded good. What the hell did Ketheric Thorm want with Isobel, and why specifically alive? It made me cold to my core. I hadn't met the man, obviously, but the legends ran back into our history so far it was like contemplating facing off with a myth, rather than an enemy.

But an enemy he was, for sure. His curse had torn this land apart and the suffering sank deep. And then there was this 'Nightsong'. The name had been thrown around so much already, but so far I hadn't really paid attention. But right now, in that dank land, it seemed so important. The key perhaps to freeing these people, and maybe making it that much harder for the Absolute to prevail. In theory. Ketheric was tied to the Nightsong somehow, and as one of the figures from our vision (Halsin had been good enough to explain that to us once we filled him in on our travels. Built like a barn door, kind to the ends of this earth, and so damned knowledgeable. Was anyone better than Halsin?), Ketheric was one of our major threats. A chosen of the Absolute. And so, one of our targets.

Shar had a lot to answer for it seemed, and while most of us had been forced to cling to a light source as we travelled initially, Shadowheart had been fine without. When first realising she had been grateful. But I saw it weigh on her. As we heard the screams from that Harper being dragged into the dark, as we heard the pain in his allies' voices as they saw his corrupted form return moments later, she wavered. She was dedicated to her goddess, but I could see the cracks beginning to show. She had doubts. So much pain, darkness and suffering, and supposedly that was Shar's intention, Shar's will. Hard to consider it a good thing, or a right thing, when you're nearby someone as light as Karlach I guess, and even Lae'zel, with all her bluntness and fury, she was still fundamentally in the light.

Mostly anyway.

The past day or so since our dalliance into the Creche, she had been withdrawn. But that made sense. Her world had been tilted. Vlakith tried to kill her, so quickly, so apparently thoughtlessly – after a lifetime of dedication, that had to hurt. She didn't wish to be bothered though. I asked. I lingered when she grew quiet, but I didn't push. She was fierce about her independence. And I respected the hell out of it. I just didn't want her to also think she was alone – because really I didn't want any of us to be alone in this. Not right now. That was what would make us easily picked off by the Absolute, but it's cronies and their plans. No. We were a team. Hells, in my mind it had started to feel a lot like a family. Not that I really knew my own experience of that…

Resting at the Inn was great. We could plan, regroup, and also catch up with those we had seen at the grove. Their own journey to this place had been rather harrowing, and unfortunately they had lost some people on the way, the ones taken being swept off to Moonrise as far as anyone could tell. But we would free them. We had to go there anyway to find out more information, so we could do it at the same time. This being how I tried to persuade both Lae'zel and Astarion at least. Neither of them were all that forthcoming with charity, but it made sense. Lae'zel had been brought up in a world of self-sufficiency, and she was currently on a mission. Astarion was harder to read in some ways, but as I'd gotten a little closer myself, I started to feel it was mainly just a defence mechanism. Don't do too much for those that might simply turn round and stab you in the back.

His back. The scars lingered in my mind, and as much as I was sure I had the right language, it didn't make it any easier to read it unfortunately. There were so many puzzle pieces running around at the moment, I was amazed I didn't spend more of my time tripping over.

Though one that fell into place nicely, was Dammon and his waving hands. He beckoned me over as I'd stood talking with a vendor with Karlach. It seemed since our time at the grove, he had been doing some digging about her engine, and all its ongoing faults. Even as we stood listening, being within a confined space with her, set the back of my neck to sweating. She had definitely gotten hotter over the past couple of days, and unfortunately I did not mean aesthetically. But as I said, Dammon had done his digging, and had some ideas. We had done our bit and had infernal iron to hand, giving it to him to tinker with as much as he liked. Which turned out to be very little. To say the man was efficient was an understatement. He applied his theory, made the thingy (I won't pretend to know what it was), and with her consent he applied it to her engine. She winced. She gritted her teeth. And for a moment, I swear she spiked to even hotter. But then something clicked. And she breathed easier. The room cooled, and her skin did as well.

She blinked.

I blinked.

Dammon grinned. It was only temporary, and he would keep working, but for now at least, she had some semblance of a normal temperature. At least, low enough not to burn someone she grazed against. I held out my hand, and she stared at it. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, she reached. She took my hand. And she breathed out slowly, she held a little tighter and her eyes began to stream. She choked on a sob, and I pulled her into a hug. It was warm, make no mistake, but it was fine. More than that, it felt wonderful. Not only because she gave a wonderful hug, but because I felt the way her tension eased, the way she wrapped her strong arms around me, and the way her breathing rattled for a few long breaths. She hadn't been held in so long. And so I let her hold on as long as she wished. Her head rested on my shoulder, and she even lifted me a little from the ground. I laughed softly, and she joined in.

"Th-Thank you." She sniffed, eventually letting me go and then pulling Dammon into a hug next. His eyes popping wide and then a chuckle escaping him as he returned the gesture. There was no denying her affection. Karlach had a way of making you feel loved to your bones.

But understandably, she wanted more than a hug. And as she danced on the spot, fidgeting, I nodded to the soldiers outside. Those milling around. Talking. Regrouping. Enjoying their slices of peace among the madness. No doubt someone among them would wish to find a bed with her. And I had no doubt it wouldn't take long to find that one.

She clasped my hand tight and grinned. "Don't wait up?"

"Have fun." I winked.

And then I simply explored the Inn. People had gathered from all over, and despite the danger, the ongoing threat and madness all around, it felt wholesome within those walls. Solid. Like a family had taken root there. The worst at their backs, and the unknown before them.

And yet again, my mind drifted to a certain Pale Elf. Mainly because he was there at the bar, enjoying a wine, talking to one of the Teiflings from the grove I think. Rhonan? Maybe? Names and me had never gotten on, and I guessed that might have always been the case. Still. Astarion's story intrigued me, not only because of its mystery, but because he had trusted me with it.

And while I ruminated on that want to understand, my eyes drifted through the Harper's Inn and landed on someone horribly familiar. Oh goody. Someone who would definitely be able to read infernal, but not exactly someone I wanted messing with Astarion's head either. Or mine. Or anyones… Raphael.

He caught my eye and lounged back in his chair, smirking. A casual wave. A gesture to come closer. It was far more tempting to launch the nearby poker from the fireplace into his ribs, but I just got off my stool and approached instead. The want once again bubbled in my gut. Red. His skin was the same colour, but I could paint it so much prettier, I could make him shine with it, couldn't I? Rip off those damned horns, pluck out his eyes with them and have him choke on his own wings. Yes. Do it. Fuck the rest of it, screw the scheming. Just grab, wrench, tear, destroy his– I paused and looked down at my feet for a moment. My breaths were quick. My skin flushed hot. Stop it. STOP. This was ridiculous. It was one thing to find him annoying, it was another to be planning how to dismantle his damned body. Hells… Get a grip. I shuddered at the crystal clear images and pushed them away. No. I don't know where that sick shit came from, but I don't want it. Not really. No.

A hand touched my elbow. "Everything alright, Little One?"

I turned to Astarion, glad to have him close as I shivered in the aftermath of that strange violent impulse, but not glad to have him closer to the devil. His ruby eyes scanned me. They narrowed. I swallowed hard and nodded, but I wasn't quick enough to get him to leave.

Raphael chuckled. "Something the matter, Hero?" His human form was the only one on show currently of course, not a red bit of skin to be seen. But I knew it was a lie. So much of him was lies.

"Wondering what you're doing in a place like this, mainly."

"You looked distracted. A little… Unhinged."

My jaw tightened – did he know something? "Not at all."

"Mm, indeed." His quick eyes then landed on Astarion and narrowed. "Now then, let's talk about you. I sense there's something you want to ask me."

How the hells did he…

My instincts had already been uneasy, and now I wanted to vomit.

Astarion sighed and nodded. "I do. I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal?" Raphael repeated, the words twisting across his tongue horribly, like he was tying a noose right in front of my eyes. "If you're hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey."

"This is serious business, devil." Astarion refuted, and at the lack of banter I knew I had to stay quiet for now. He was serious about this. It was something he wanted to look into himself, and I had to respect that. He drew a long breath. "My old– Well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I'd rather like to know what they say."

And then there was that look again, like a cat who had just noticed a mouse that was limping.

I set my teeth together. "Stop playing around, Raphael. Can you help or not?"

"Now, now, what's the rush little hero?" He laughed at me and then tilted his head at Astarion. "So you've told this little hero have you? Shown them your scars? Well I can't say I'm all that surprised you've already had your clothes off with them but still… Surprising that you would show such a thing off."

Astarion set his jaw. "I had my reasons."

Nevermind that I saw them mainly by accident, but I agreed with admitting as little to Raphael as possible. Because beyond the accident, there had been trust. And while that was a good thing for us, that could be a tool for him.

"Mm, I'm sure you did. But don't worry – I'm motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories – I think yours might be truly exquisite."

"But what do they say?" Astarion persisted, and I think he was right to assume Raphael didn't need him to literally strip in order to see them. The devil was powerful, there was no way a few flimsy bits of fabric stopped him seeing things.

Raphael smiled. "It's something of great importance to your master. But is it a love letter, a warning, or a deed of ownership? I can give you all the gory details. And I will… Once you do something for me."

"Which would be?" Astarion didn't agree, but fair enough wanted to know what the terms might be.

"Allow me to explain." Raphael dipped into a small bow. "Our hero thought but of treasure ahead, Did not consider the peace of the dead… Through the dark he went creeping, And awoke what was sleeping… A new grave they dug, which he himself fed."

More riddles. Oh goody.

I tilted my head. "And how long did you practise that little recital?"

"Until it was perfect." He shrugged. "I've grown quite fond of you, you know – in my way. I thought it only fair to warn you about the dangers ahead on your path."

"Dangers you're using as a bargaining chip." I snorted and Astarion nodded, lips tight. "So c'mon what dangers are those? Presumably something in particular as what's behind us hasn't exactly been peaches and cream. Something you want dealt with in this bargain."

His brows raised. "There is a stage down in the dark upon which a great drama has suspended itself in time. Its actors dwell there still, mired in the languor of their long-tired scenes. If you, however, through the dark go creeping and awake what is sleeping… Chances are many more graves than yours alone will soon be fed."

I tried, I really did, but the eye roll happened anyway. "Raphael. Spare us. Paint a clearer picture than that."

"Very well. Across the way is a door, an ancient door. You will need to access it anyway, on your little journey, but you will also access it for me…" He dipped his head. "There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow – a creature who, like me, is very much of the infernal persuasion. Should it make its way out through the very doors you are about to brazenly swing open, you'll have unleashed a pestilence upon this realm. In truth, it is carnage incarnate. So if you meet the devil of which I speak, kill it. Consider no other course of action."

"Probably only half the info still, but clearer at least."

Astarion sighed. "So what, we get rid of this other devil and you'll tell me what the runes say?"

"Indeed. One the beast that lurks below these lands, through warped doors of iron, doors you would have likely sought anyway in a quest for information on troublesome Ketheric Thorm. Once the beast I speak of is vanquished, and sent back to the Hells, then we shall talk."

It was an unclear goal. With unclear risks. But as with anything Raphael, it was pretty much the only avenue left open. Astarion looked to the ground. He thought. And no doubt his mind was churning over the risk, the reward, the potential for all manner of fuckery.

Raphael chuckled. "Don't pout, Spawn. Just destroy the beast and I'll happily reveal your secrets."

And as much as I wanted to refuse it all, to step between them and shake Astarion, make him listen to reason, I held myself back. He wasn't a child. He wanted to know what his scars said, he was allowed to seek that out. Damn it. Every fibre of me wanted to scream, to beg him to run. I knew little of my life and less about the enemies or allies I had known before all this, but Raphael was dangerous. I knew that. I felt that to my bones. But Astarion was determined. And so now all I could do was be there to help avoid him falling prey to that need for answers, to avoid it claiming him for a fool.

He sighed. "Fine. We'll kill this damn creature of yours."

"Then we have an understanding. I look forward to our next meeting. Good luck, little hero and little vampling."

Gone.

In a literal puff of smoke, the devil disappeared.

As soon as the devil was gone, I breathed easier. Astarion was quiet. Watching the point where those spores dissipated and faded to nothing. Then he blinked. He cleared his throat and moved away from the spot, heading outside. I followed. I wasn't owed information, but I certainly didn't want him being alone in that moment. We stayed close to the Inn, within the barrier. I breathed in the night air. He paced. He stopped. He paced again.

It was probably five long minutes of silence before he finally stopped and gave a weary sigh. "You're disappointed in me."

"Nope."

He blinked and raised a brow. "Then why the silent treatment?"

"What've you been giving me?" I laughed and shook my head. "I was just letting you think your thoughts and hoping you'd eventually surface again. I think my stance on the devil is clear. But you want answers so…"

"So…" He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Infernal, you said. So infernal I went."

My teeth snapped together. "Don't blame me."

"I'm not." He shook his head. "I'm simply following a thread. If I can learn something before we get back to the city, before I'm back in those bastard's clutches, we'll be all better off for it. Don't you think?"

"Fair." I nodded. "But at what cost?"

He smirked. "Now, now, Sweet, don't go all over-protective on me now that we've–"

"Me fucking you has nothing to do with this." I said and his mouth closed slowly. "I'd be concerned if this was our third day of even knowing each other, Astarion. Believe it or not, I can care about you without having had your dick inside of me."

He looked to the side and pursed his lips. Then he snorted. And then he laughed.

I found myself joining in.

Eventually he wiped away a tear and nudged me with his hip. "What a pair of fools, hm?"

"Absolutely." I nudged back and then put my head on his shoulder, thunking it and then pacing a little myself. "Seek the answers, that's your choice and your right. All I'm asking is don't sign away anything too precious for it. Like you said yourself, whatever those scars actually say or mean, doesn't change what that sicko did to you. Doesn't change what you want to do to him, right?"

"No." He closed his eyes and hung his head back in the dim moonlight. "But it might help me know how to do it."

"Fair, again."

For a moment he just stared up at the sky and I followed his gaze. When so wrapped up in our own headaches, it was easy to lose sight of that bigger picture.

His hand brushed mine. "I didn't tell you exactly how he did it, did I?"

"You said he was penning a poem?"

"Mm. He would work from dusk until dawn, all with an ancient blade he called his 'needle'. Cutting and tearing, starting over if I screamed or winced too much."

"Hells…"

"It was a rough night."

"And they say you're dramatic… Talk about a fucking understatement." I breathed, letting a couple of the tears fall, it being impossible not to have them brew when he was so matter-of-fact about that torment. To have him screaming into the stone walls of whatever prison Cazador had concocted. Blood running down Astarions skin for hours on end. This 'poem' penned in both his flesh and his pain. Cazador, as much as Astarion intends to make him suffer, if he'll allow me to, I will do so as well. Bastard.

"Thank you." Astarion said, breaking me from my angry reverie.

"For…?"

He held his arms out for a moment, basking in the light, before setting those ruby eyes on me all over again and making me warm. "For wanting to protect me, but not wishing to control me."

"Oh…" I smiled and shrugged. "You're welcome."

And then we heard it, both flinching and turning towards the noise within the Inn.

Halsin was yelling… no… Screaming.

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