Author's Note: I re-wrote this. A lot. So many times. But at some point you just have to publish.

Happy Holidays!

Clad once more in their armor and weapons, Astarion and Tav crept up the stairs to the second story of Fraygo's Flophouse. Astarion didn't worry about Tav's monk-light feet triggering the creaky wooden stairs, but he silently directed Gale and Lae'zel on where to step. Karlach and Wyll waited at the bottom so that her glow and his horned shadow on the walls wouldn't tip off the spawn.

"A party, you say?" they heard Shadowheart enthuse in her breathiest of voices. "I've never been to the Szarr Palace before. They say it's quite grand."

'A wise choice of bait,' Astarion thought with pleasure at his companions' craftiness. They couldn't know how powerful a draw a white-haired woman with half-elven features would be for the lovesick Petras in particular, but Tav's party had grown quite adept at laying ambushes for bandits who fell for Shadowheart's I'm just a rich lone traveler in the woods act.

"Very grand indeed," came Petras's awkward imitation of Astarion's tone, which he had been trying out in recent years as his numbers began to flag and Cazador's beatings became more frequent. "A magnificent soiree would be the ideal time to view it. Absolutely … ideal."

"Brother, we should go." Astarion was unsurprised to hear Dalyria's voice. She and Yousen were about the only ones who would voluntarily hunt with Petras these days. "I do not want to face the Master if we are late."

Astarion bounded up the last few steps and slid flamboyantly into view. "Late for what, Dal?"

"Astarion! No, it cannot be."

Cazador must have patched them up thoroughly before sending them out again via the city sewers; the only evidence of recent torture on the faces of Dalyria and Petras were their haunted eyes and the slight tremor in their hands.

Petras backed up a pace, his brow crinkling in suspicion as Tav, Gale and Lae'zel took up positions behind Astarion and Shadowheart.

"Why would you come back?" Dalyria asked. "You got out; you were free."

"Isn't it obvious?" sneered Petras. "He wants to Ascend with the rest of us."

Astarion could not conceal his scorn. "Cazador promised you your freedom? And you believed him?"

Shadowheart drew back to give Tav some room.

They demanded coldly, "Tell us about the ritual. What do you know?"

"This is the monk?" Petras asked rhetorically, his luminous red eyes already sizing up Tav's lithe form and exquisite facial features. "Yes, I can see why the Master has decided to add this one to his collect–"

Astarion's hand was already around Petras's throat, dragging him toward the deadly rays pouring through the far window.

"No!" Dalyria gasped, lurching forward. Tav struck her chest bone with the flat of Their hand, sending her stumbling back. Her torso began rhythmically glowing from the offensive use of Tav's ki.

The monk raised Their hand again. "Stay where you are," Tav commanded. Anyone who had seen a monk fight before knew that They were threatening to explode her chest from the inside out.

Dalyria remained in place, glowing and shaking.

Physically, Petras was no weaker than Astarion, but the exposure to direct sunlight had an immediate and debilitating effect. His hands pounded feebly at Astarion's shoulders and his high-pitched shriek was as thin and papery as the skin on his burning face.

All of the spawn had been tortured this way, times beyond counting. But Astarion could not afford to be merciful. It wasn't only himself Cazador was hunting now; the vampire's greed had swelled to encompass Tav. Newly Ascended and resistant to Radiant damage, he would hunt down Tav and turn Them into a spawn at the first opportunity. Perhaps he'd send a pack of werewolves to seize Them in a field, the way he'd captured Petras; sabotage Their carriage on the mountain pass, like he'd entrapped Dalyria; or simply kidnap Tav's family and hold them for ransom, as he'd done with Leon. Somehow, someday, he would steal Tav's very life and freedom. And as soon as he found out how rare They were, he'd have Their naked body on display for the paying customers of Baldur's Gate.

Red blisters of rage burst behind his eyes, staining his vision with crimson. "Where is he hiding?" Astarion snarled furiously, his fingers spasmodically clenching below Petras's jaw. "Tell me!"

As the spawn's skin began to separate from the raw flesh underneath, Petras could only scream.

"Brother, please!" Dalyria pleaded. She was the one who bought into that "siblings" garbage the most, viewing herself as the oldest "sister", since she was Cazador's first spawn.

Tav, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel – plus Karlach and Wyll, who had sprinted up the stairs when they heard the commotion – were all watching him.

No, that wasn't quite accurate. Tav and Dalyria had their eyes fixed on him and Petras, yes, but the others were flashing sneaky glances at Tav, clearly wondering what Their reaction to his brutal treatment of a fellow victim would be. Wondering if this gave them a chance at taking his place.

With a hiss of frustration, he flung the smoldering Petras back out of the light.

The wounded spawn stumbled and fell against Dalyria's feet, covering his burned face with his equally-crispy hands. A living creature with similar damage would have made the place reek of seared fat and meat; instead, the room smelled like a chimney sweep had walked through after a long day's work.

"It's … warm," Dalyria said to Tav, touching her shimmering chest. Astarion could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Dalyria was a brilliant woman; a few more clues, and she'd figure out that Tav's Radiant energy was the source of heat. Then she would want Them for herself. The doctor's ethics had been even more thoroughly eroded by the passage of centuries than Astarion's; two hundred and fifty years of cruelty at Cazador's hands had crushed her compassion for others into dust. Sometimes shreds of it re-formed when one of the spawn was in trouble, but she felt nothing for those outside their circle of shared misery.

Astarion had a terrible vision of Tav, shackled and caged, serving as Ascended Dalyria's personal bedwarmer.

"Release her!" he snapped, barely able to make himself sound angry instead of afraid.

Tav withdrew Their ki from Dalyria with a sweep of Their fingers. She swayed briefly toward Them like a sapling in a high wind.

Astarion rushed forward to push her away, nearly treading on Petras in his haste.

"What are you?" Petras gasped, his eyes focused on Astarion's unburned skin.

"I'm more than what I was, and the only person who can stop him. Now tell me what I want to know: where is he hiding?"

Dalyria helped Petras to his feet. The younger spawn huddled against her like a child. "Beneath his palace," she said hastily. "There's a defiled chapel. He's kept it hidden there this entire time. Hidden from us all. He says he will Ascend all of us, that this is what the scars are for." Dalyria's voice became softer, almost hopeful. "Do you really think you can stop him?" Her fiery eyes bored into him, searching.

Ah. There it was. The almost-psychic bond that he and Dalyria, the eldest of the spawn, sometimes shared.

She didn't believe Cazador's promise of Ascension. A quarter of a millennium in slavery meant her will was to broken to do anything about it.

"The sun can't harm me," he said to Petras. And to Dalyria: "Cazador can't compel me." He gestured to indicate his companions. "I have a new family now, and believe me: their teeth are sharper." Astarion waved a dismissive hand at the spawn siblings – partly to get them away from Tav, partly to inform them that he wasn't going to have them executed on the spot. "Now go, before I change my mind about roasting you, 'brother'."

"This isn't over, Astarion," Dalyria said. Although her eyes were fierce, the words contained as much warning as boasting.

As soon as the spawns' blood-powered version of Misty Step had whisked them away to the sewers, Shadowheart remarked, "You spared them."

"You sound surprised. I am capable of doing the right thing. From time to time."

"They'll tell him we're coming," Wyll warned, his hero's mind immediately pondering the strategies that would come into play against a forewarned enemy.

"Yes, and they'll be trembling in fear when they tell him." Seeing their de facto leader Dalyria so shaken up would destabilize the other spawn as well, making them easier to fight against. Or manipulate, should the opportunity arise.

"We should have killed them," growled Lae'zel, her slit-pupiled eyes darting around the room as if the spawn would reappear.

"They're no threat to us, and they have no choice but to do Cazador's bidding. The only question now is whether their lives will be sacrificed to a monster like Cazador, or serve … a greater purpose."

"Greater purpose?" Karlach cocked her head. "What purpose?"

"Seven sigils on seven spawn, and Cazador has the other six. We have to face him, and take that power for ourselves."

"For yourself, you mean," Gale said, too calmly for Astarion's liking. "I doubt it will work on someone who isn't vampiric."

"Well, yes: technically only I will Ascend and gain the ritual's power. But we're a team! If I become all-powerful, then we become all-powerful." He narrowed his eyes at Wyll and Gale. "You can't tell me you object to gaining power, if your duty to the greater good justifies the means." Astarion carefully did not look at Shadowheart.

"And what if we're walking into a trap?" Tav asked. "He'll be expecting us to storm his palace now that we know where he is. Surely he'll set up additional defenses."

"It can't be worse than anything else we've faced. We've been ambushed by Death Shepherds, Arcane Turrets, Kua-toa, Drider, githyanki royal guards and the literal Avatar of Death! A half-dozen spawn and a werewolf or two will be child's play. And now that we know Cazador's skulking beneath his palace, it'll be infinitely easier to track him down."

Everyone traded enigmatic glances except Tav, who nodded briskly and said, "Then we need to find somewhere to prepare. A place inside the city walls, closer to the palace."

Lae'zel agreed. "That would diminish our chances of being ambushed by Orin and exhausting ourselves before we even make it to Cazador."

Shadowheart smirked a little. "We do tend to stumble across some worthy cause every few steps."

"Well, we're not staying here." Astarion's lip curled. "This place reeks of rat blood and despair. Plus it has secret entrances into the sewers for transporting Cazador's prey. Camping directly on top of a trap door would be a terrible idea."

Karlach scowled out the window at Sharess' Caress across the street. "And I'm not staying somewhere that has a literal devil hanging about."

Wyll nudged her side. "The Elfsong has rooms for rent. They're a bit pricey because Duke Stelmane is in residence, but that means they're often available when other places are full."

"Ooooh!" the tiefling exclaimed with a clap that sent up a streak of flame, illuminating her joyous expression. "Tell me they still have fried calamari appetizers!"

He grinned. "They still have fried calamari appetizers."

Karlach thumped herself down on a barstool with such force that Astarion feared for the integrity of The Elfsong's furniture.

"Two plates of fried calamari, my good man!" she thundered at the barkeep. "And black pudding for my friend here." Karlach pulled Astarion down onto a stool beside her.

"But I –"

Tav patted him on both shoulders and kissed the top of his head. "We don't need the whole troop to ask the constable about Duke Stelmane's murder. You sit. Enjoy a meal. We'll be right upstairs."

Astarion murmured half-hearted agreement while Wyll slid smoothly into place on his other side.

The warlock gave him a sympathetic, knowing smile. He didn't like to spend much time apart from Karlach, either.

The "black pudding" turned out to be more of a sausage-and-rice dish. The other ingredients turned to ash in his mouth, and then to nothing at all, but there was a significant amount of pig's blood in the sausage.

For a place he hadn't been in daylight in two hundred years, the warmly-lit taproom felt … comfortable. Maybe it was eating real food. Maybe it was not being here with a target. Maybe it was being flanked by two of the deadliest warriors he'd ever met, one of whom was slapping his back every time he said anything mildly amusing and the other who was ordering him a second helping of black pudding.

He felt like … a regular person.

Then Tav returned with Gale close behind, making those sickening puppy-dog eyes at the back of Their head, and Astarion was reminded of his true purpose.

Sex. Violence. Survival.

Whether it was his sex, his violence, and his survival … well. That all depended on what happened in the next few hours.

He needed to get Tav alone.

When he saw what rooms Shadowheart had rented for them upstairs, however, his barely-beating heart fell into his shoes. There would be no trysting here.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Wyll and Karlach trading disappointed glances as well. The wide-open spaces and uncurtained daybeds might be fine for an orgy, but Astarion doubted anyone except Halsin was keen for that kind of romp.

Once, he could have done it. His "Genfir" persona had been into group sex. "Carran" got hard at the mere sight of big-breasted women. "Kilreth" was into humans. "Nirtoza" preferred male orcs. "Ollus" liked pain, both the giving and receiving of it. All of these false faces could get lost in the physical motions of sex and perform accordingly. While they'd screwed their respective targets on dirty mattresses, prickly haystacks and against storage room walls, Astarion had remained hidden in a little room far back in his mind, untouched and alive.

On that beach where the nautiloid crashed, however, he'd told the half-elf in the yellow robes his real name, believing that he'd never have to do this again.

What a fool he'd been. As optimistic as a child, and twice as stupid.

Tav rescued him. Because that was what They did.

The monk nudged his side. "I got us the rooftop room. Care to take a look?"

He didn't bother to suppress a huge grin as Gale drooped like an unwatered flower.

"Without a doubt, my love. Lead on."

Tav spun in place on the stone tiles, indicating the rooftop and its stone colonnade with Their outstretched arms.

"What do you think?" They asked. "A little privacy in a bustling city."

"Mmm," Astarion responded. "Yes, I was hoping for privacy." He flipped the trapdoor's latch shut with the toe of his boot.

Tav smiled sunnily. "I thought I'd take you someplace different."

"That's very sweet, but I've been up here before. Many times."

Tav blinked, Their grin faltering. "You have?"

He wasn't able to keep the bitterness out of his laugh. "My dear monk, if it's a rented room in Baldur's Gate, there is a non-zero chance that I have been fucked in it."

He strode over to a sconce on one of the arches and gave its knob a half twist. Curtains of unnatural smoke shot up between the pillars, changing the view of the city around them from the radiant excess of sunset into mere shadows. "For visual privacy, you see. It conceals sound as well."

Indeed, his screams had never been heard from this particular rooftop.

"Oh, that's what the barkeep meant by 'turning the sconce'. I thought it was a metaphor." They clapped Their hands together. "Well, we'd best get started while there's still some daylight left."

"Goodness me," Astarion said with a smirk. "I didn't realize you were so eager. Not that I am complaining, mind you."

Tav gave him a tolerant smile and flipped an empty drinking mug back and forth between Their hands. "I mean training, Astarion. There will be plenty of time for intimacy once the rat bastard is dead."

"Training?"

"Yes!" They chirped airily, setting the mug on the flagstones covering the roof several yards away. "You're going to use your ki offensively. He doesn't know you have it, so he won't see it coming."

Tav returned to him and stood at his back, placing Their slim hands on his shoulders.

Astarion turned his head to give Them a doubtful look. "You really think you can teach someone a monk skill overnight?"

"Yes. You've been practicing for two hundred years; you just didn't realize it." They reached around and pointed at the center of his chest. "I've seen you fight unarmed; you were using ki then, whether you tried consciously to apply it or not."

Astarion tried to follow Their reasoning. He knew he was as good at unarmed combat as he was with a blade. He also knew that he felt a certain elation when fighting without a weapon, but he'd always assumed that was a life-saving burst of adrenaline, not monk magic.

"How, though?" he wondered out loud. "How do I use it if I don't recognize it?"

"I'll show you, if you're willing." Tav's hand hovered over his sternum, questioning. At his nod, They tapped his chest with far more gentleness than They'd used on Dalyria.

Astarion's entire body thrummed like a giant violin string. Warmth and light flowed out from his core in concentric rings. He gasped as if he needed air.

Tav steadied him with Their hands on his shoulders. "Follow the Resonance back to its source. Deep calls to deep."

"I don't understand."

Patiently, Tav explained, "There is a little room. Deep in the center of yourself, with strong stone walls, and no doors at all. No one else can enter or exit the little room."

"How do you know about the little room?" Astarion demanded in a panic.

Tav restrained him with gentle arms around his torso. "Inside each person, there is 'a little room'. It's a monk technique for visualizing ki."

"It is?"

Astarion had built the place during his first weeks with Cazador, when the vampire tortured him ceaselessly, breaking his spirit so he would obey even without direct mental compulsion. He'd put the small room together, brick by brick in his mind, walling off a part of himself from the other pieces that were screaming, breaking, crying, bleeding, groveling …

"In the little room," Tav continued serenely, "nothing can touch you. Not heat or cold, hunger or thirst, friends or enemies, gods or monsters. You cannot invite anyone in, because you are the only one who can be there. It is your own personal Plane of Existence."

"And my … ki … is in there?" he asked, still hesitant to believe such a thing.

"Yes. Many people picture it as a deep well, or a bowl of rainwater that never dries up."

"A candle?" His voice cracked, and Tav's image became blurry.

Their smile grew. "Is it a candle that burns forever?"

His reply was soundless. Yes.

Tav kissed his temple joyously. "That's it. Your ki. The flame you've sheltered all these years." From behind, They supported his right arm in a bent position, shaping his fingers into a fist. "Now bring that fire up your arm, and out into the world."

"How?" They clearly wanted him to aim for the mug on the ground, but he didn't see how an untrained novice was going to apply ki that they'd only learned the existence of a few seconds ago.

Tav stood back, pointing at the mug. "That cup is in your space." They gave an extra edge of scorn to the word cup. "The space where your ki deserves to be. Delete it."

"How?" he asked, more forcefully this time.

"It helps if you crouch, and aim to keep the cup between the thumb and forefinger of your other hand." Tav demonstrated the form.

Astarion imitated Them, feeling like a poor imitation of Their grace, although the resonant glow flowing out from his chest started to get quite hot.

"There are no words to this chant," Tav instructed. "The vibration itself is your ki's road, from inside to outside." They began to hum in that manner which a dragonborn throat-singer would envy.

'Oh, what the hell,' Astarion thought. 'I might as well. Nobody else can see me fail, and it's not like Tav would laugh, anyway.'

He got out half of a note before realizing he'd made a serious miscalculation.

His ki reared up like an untamed stallion, raging against the restraint that it had endured for so long. It wanted out. It wanted freedom. It wanted to take up space, and Astarion had the distinct impression that if he didn't give it an outlet, it was going to rip his chest open from the inside.

His hands turned into blinding beacons of light, so bright that it hurt his eyes.

Tav yelled in alarm, "Punch it! Now, Astarion!"

He lunged forward and shoved his fist at the mug, hoping it wasn't too late.

Astarion nearly screamed when the ki ripped down his arm and leapt free from his knuckles, striking the tin cup like a thrown brick and sending the dinnerware flying off into the night with a resonant boom that kicked up sparks from the braziers, shook the potted plants and made several stools fall over.

Laughing uproariously, Tav caught him when he stumbled.

"I knew it!" They cried. "I knew it!"

Astarion clutched his arm to his still-reverberating chest, shaking from the near miss. "It almost exploded my arm!" he protested. "It could have killed me!"

Tav sobered a bit. "No, sweetheart. You can't be hurt by your own ki. But you did nearly drop Gong of the Summit right on top of yourself, which might have broken the roof." They squeezed him briefly. "Could've fallen right into Yenna's cauldron of soup!"

"Warn me next time, will you?" he snapped, reflexively complaining to cover for his fear.

Tav's eyes softened. "Yes, dear. I will certainly remember how powerful your soul is, the next time we practice."

"Powerful," Astarion repeated. "A powerful soul."

He extended his hand, staring at the palm and fingers as though they were something miraculous.

Astarion absolutely could not wait to punch Cazador in the face with the power of his own soul.

He turned in Their arms and kissed Them full on the mouth, putting every ounce of love and desperation into it that he could muster.

Fist of Unbroken Air was a neat trick, and one that might give him a distinct advantage over Cazador, but it wouldn't get him Tav's whole-hearted participation in Astarion's Ascension. The only way to be safe – safe forever – was power. And for that, he needed Tav to be in love with him beyond all reason.

When he walked Them back against a pillar and began yanking at the fastenings for Garb of the Land and Sky, Tav finally pulled Their mouth away.

"Astarion," They murmured, "this isn't usually how monk lessons end."

He kissed Their neck below the ear, and got the sash undone. "It's how our lessons will end, if I have anything to say about it."

Tav chuckled, but he sensed a hint of reservation.

Astarion pulled Their hips gently into contact with his own. "Would you rather a real bed, my dear?"

"No, that's not it, I just … are you sure?" Tav gestured down the length of Their body. "That you want this shape, I mean?"

"Without a doubt, my love," he said, and dove in for another passionate kiss.

The words fell from his lips reflexively. "Let me love you, darling. Let me take you to new heights. Let me make you feel things you've never felt before."

Tav tilted Their head. "You already have. I already do."

He nearly growled in frustration. "Please. Let me do this for you."

Their brows drew together. " 'For' me?"

"With you," he clarified hastily. "Please, my love. I want one night with you." That was true. "If I die tomorrow, I want the memory of you to go with me into the afterlife." That was also true. "I want to make love together, and fall asleep in each other's arms." That … was halfway true.

Fortunately, Tav bought it.

He had both their shirts off and Tav on Their back amongst a pile of cushions before They spoke again.

"And no one," They panted, "can see us up here?"

"Absolutely private, my dear," he assured Them, running his fingers down Their bare chest.

"All right," They finally said, and slipped out of Their trousers. Astarion kept his own on, trying to conceal his lack of an erection for as long as possible.

He pressed his lips to the palm of Their hand, then transferred his kisses to Their upper thighs.

He flicked his eyes up at Tav. "I'll buy you a new pair," he promised.

"A pair of wh–"

With the swiftness of long practice, Astarion used his fangs to slice through the laces on either side of Their underwear, then whisked away the hourglass-shaped scrap of purple cloth.

Tav's hands moved as if to cover Themself. Astarion gently pinned Their wrists to Their sides.

"You led me to believe you had some dark secret under here," he scolded.

Tav's hands only quivered a bit. "And what did you find?" They asked with forced lightness.

He smiled slowly and kissed the inside of Their muscular thigh. "Only perfection, my dear. Only perfection."

Truly, Tav was closer to female than male under Their smallclothes, and yet definitely not all woman. It was as if Their body had read the blueprints for male and female genitalia, then promptly shredded the documents and decided it would have some of everything and add its own flair, thank you very much. The result was symmetrical, tidy, and matched Their lean, strong body to a T. If he hadn't had a thousand other sets of ordinary genitals to compare Theirs to, he would not have known why They were so shy about it.

Astarion immediately decided he preferred this configuration above all others.

He surged up to kiss Them fiercely, his palm resting lightly over Their sex in a way he guessed They would like.

From Tav's little gasps, he guessed correctly.

Tav's skin was heating up nicely, Their body responding favorably to his caresses, when suddenly They froze.

They scrambled out from underneath him and got to Their feet.

Astarion stood as well. "Darling, did I hurt you?" He ran his fingertips over his fangs. He should have been blasted with Radiant damage if he'd scratched Them, but maybe an accidental pinch didn't count as assault according to Tav's self-defense mechanism?

"You don't want this," Tav blurted.

"What?" If he'd had any blood in his face, it would have drained away.

Gods … no.

"You don't want this," They repeated. "Oh, gods. You don't want this."

"Tav –"

"No. No, you don't want this. I can tell. There's a thrum in someone's ki when they're aroused. You don't have it." They pointed emphatically at the shimmer still emanating from his chest.

Apparently, there was something missing.

"You don't want this." Tav hiccuped. "You don't want me."

Somewhere below, Scratch began to howl.

"Tav, please listen."

"Why? Why do this? Why would you refuse the amulet and then –?" Their expression fell even further. "Oh. Oh, gods." The black liner beneath Tav's wide eyes shimmered with wetness. "Lathander, what have I done?"

At first, Astarion did not understand. "What have you done? Whatever could you have –"

"I made you feel obligated. I saved you and helped you, and now you feel like you have to … like you have to …." They looked away, holding a hand to Their mouth in horror. "I made you think you had to pay for our help." Tav started to sob. "W-with the only c-currency you h-ad."

"No. No, Tav, you have it all backwards. I –"

Strident screeching joined Scratch's ungodly racket, punctuated by a cat's yowl.

Someone began thumping on the trapdoor from underneath. Tav! came Karlach's muffled voice. Tav! What's going on? The little ones are losing their minds down here!

Tav moved clumsily for Their clothes. If They got them on again, They would leave.

Astarion leapt in front of Them, snatching up the trousers and underwear. Their tunic was farther away, tangled in his own discarded garments. "No! Please, love, let me explain."

Tav grabbed a hand towel from the washing ewer nearby, mumbling brokenly, "I … I did this. I d-did th-this." Black rivulets snaked down Their cheeks as They tore at Their hair.

Astarion thought he knew all the flavors of pain: fire and ice, blunt instrument and blade, tooth and claw. None of it compared to the agony of watching Tav scramble to cover Their nakedness with trembling hands and a too-small scrap of cloth.

"My love –"

Tav flung up Their free hand. "Stop! Stop calling me that!"

A bright blue streak arced out of the darkness, hit the rim of the colonnade with a bang, and then a very large man dropped eight feet down from where the Arrow of Transposition had deposited him in mid-air.

Halsin's light brown eyes quickly took in Tav's tear-streaked face, naked body and raised hand. When his gaze found the half-clothed Astarion, who was clutching Tav's torn undergarment and glowing with Ki Resonation, he drew the only logical conclusion.

The druid scooped at the air like he was pulling invisible vines out of the ground. Leaves appeared from nowhere and whirled around him, bringing with them the scent of rain, pine needles, and freshly-tilled earth.

There was a flash of golden light, and a cave bear stood in his place.

It dropped to all fours and roared its bone-shaking defiance into Astarion's face.