The clang of steel and the eerie hum of psionic energy filled the vaulted chamber, echoing off stone walls and reverberating through the high, shadowed arches above.

Torchlight flickered against the cold, gray stone, casting fleeting shadows across the scene of chaos unfolding beneath the vaulted ceiling.

Ishta parried and slashed but the two Githyanki fighters she faced were relentless, their movements as fluid as water and as lethal as knives.

Beside her, Astarion was ducking and weaving, nimble as a shadow as he sidestepped yet another psionic blast from one of the Githyanki fighters in front of him. He shot a look toward Lae'zel, who was entrenched in her own brutal combat, and his eyes flashed with irritation.

"I hate to be the one to say I told you so, but..." He yelled over the din, "I BLOODY TOLD YOU SO!"

Lae'zel barely spared him a glance, her jaw clenched as she swung her blade in a wide arc, clashing against her opponent's staff in a deadly dance.

Across the room, Gale was holding the fighters at bay with shimmering defensive wards, his face taut with concentration as he cast with one hand and shielded himself with the other.

Karlach, meanwhile, was chipping away at the Inquisitor, her blows landing with the raw power only she could summon. Yet, the Githyanki leader moved with an uncanny agility, deflecting her attacks in smooth, deadly arcs.

Suddenly, a strangled cry broke through the chaos. Ishta's head snapped toward Gale just as an arrow pierced his hand. His spell faltered, and he staggered back, clutching his injury.

Ishta caught the movement, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the archer drawing back for another shot, its aim squarely on Gale. She hacked one fighter down with a swift, ruthless strike and called over her shoulder to Astarion, "Care to dance with my partner while I go save the wizard?"

Astarion's eyes sparkled with a reckless enthusiasm. In one smooth movement, he hooked his crossbows back on his belt and unsheathed a saber, tilting it toward the remaining fighter as he grinned at her. "Love to, darling."

With a nod, Ishta whirled around, her scimitars slicing through the air as she dashed toward Gale. An arrow flew straight for her, and she twisted, bringing one scimitar up in a flash to slice it clean in half. Gale had managed to take cover behind a pillar, his face pale as he gritted his teeth and snapped the arrow's shaft with his good hand, blood seeping between his fingers.

She positioned herself in front of him, taking a defensive stance. "That you out of the fight?" she asked, glancing back at him with concern.

"Not many one-handed incantations would help in this situation, I'm afraid," he grimaced, clutching his bleeding hand. "And I foolishly forgot to prepare any healing spells."

Ishta's eyes scanned his wound. "I know Cure Wounds, but it probably won't work fast enough."

Gale managed a strained smile. "Now might be a good time to introduce these Githyanki to your other half." He cast a wary look at his bleeding hand and added quickly, "Though perhaps put a bit of distance between us first."

A shadow crossed Ishta's face as she hesitated, but Gale placed his good hand on her shoulder, his expression serious. "I've already seen Astarion go feral in battle. I highly doubt seeing you in your full glory will be any worse. Believe me, none of us will judge if you end up draining one or two combatants - so long as they're not on our side."

Ishta gave him a quick, reluctant smile before closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she let herself sink into the darker recesses of her mind, the place she usually kept locked tight. The sounds of battle sharpened around her, each heartbeat of her enemies resounding like a drum, the scent of spilled blood thick in the air, tangling with her senses. When she opened her eyes again, Gale flinched slightly at the predatory gleam there. She glanced down at his bleeding hand, feeling a dark, instinctual hunger stir within her, but she forced her focus forward, redirecting the urge toward their foes.

A cold smile curved her lips as she stepped out from behind the pillar, her eyes glinting with a savage intensity. "Time for some fun."

In a flash, she was moving, her scimitars slicing through the air with deadly precision as she closed in on the nearest Githyanki archer. He barely had time to raise his weapon before her blade cleaved through his defenses, striking his shoulder and sending him sprawling backward. She heard him gasp, the shock and pain lingering in his eyes just before she moved on, like a shadow slipping through the chaos.

Across the room, Astarion had drawn both his sabre and dagger, dancing through the fighters, his blades flashing under the dim candlelight. One lunged at him with a psyonic-infused strike, but Astarion sidestepped effortlessly, bringing his sabre down in a sharp, calculated arc.

Suddenly he sensed a prickle at the nape of his neck, an instinctive awareness that made him turn. His breath hitched at the sight of Ishta - her movements had taken on a deadly grace, impossibly swift and precise, cutting through her opponents with an eerie, almost otherworldly fluidity. Her crimson eyes gleamed under the dim torchlight, and the flash of fangs as she snarled at a warrior reminded him of the previous night.

That memory - a dark, visceral flash of her hands around his throat, her face twisted in fury above him - sent a chill through him, his focus slipping for the briefest moment.

It was long enough. A Gith fighter lunged at him, and he was forced to twist out of the way, muttering as he steadied himself. "Calm down, Astarion... it's still her."

In a blur of motion, Ishta had closed the distance to Karlach and the inquisitor, her scimitars flashing as she parried the inquisitor's sword and forced him back. Karlach seized the moment, driving her greatsword forward with a roar that reverberated through the chamber, cutting a deep wound across the leaders torso. Together, they overwhelmed him, their attacks swift and brutal. With one final strike from Ishta, the inquisitor fell, his form slumping to the ground.

With Ishta's newfound ferocity, the tide of battle turned quickly. Karlach and Lae'zel bore a few minor cuts and bruises by the end, but the enemies lay scattered around them, a testament to their combined strength.

As the dust settled, Lae'zel stood over the Inquisitor's body, her gaze turned upward as she cried out, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Vlaakith. Vlaakith! I have wielded your fury as a blade, roared your wrath as a dragon! You promised me ascension - yet I crawl among my own people, low as an asp's belly. Shka'keth!"

Her voice broke as she lowered her head, her expression twisted in anguish. "I followed your path. What good this heart of stone, for it to be shattered?"

Karlach stepped forward, her tone gentle. "You okay, Lae'zel?"

Lae'zel's gaze darted to her, a desperate edge in her eyes. "She tests me. A trial of faith - K'liir prepared me. 'Only the heaviest souls soar to the Astral.' Yes. Yes. I might gain Vlaakith's favor yet."

Astarion rolled his eyes, irritation creeping into his voice. "All this, and yet you still stand by Vlaakith? You're as dull as you are stupid."

Lae'zel spat, her voice venomous. "Silence! I must think."

"Lovely," Astarion muttered, casting a disdainful glance her way. "While you're doing that, I'm going to go check on that situation over there."

He gestured toward Ishta, who stood motionless in the center of the room, her scimitars clattering to the floor as she sank to her knees. Her shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath, and Astarion felt a pang of concern ripple through him. The others turned to look, their expressions shifting from surprise to alarm as Ishta hugged herself tightly, her body trembling, teeth clenched as if she were fighting an internal battle even fiercer than the one they'd just won.

A heavy silence filled the chamber, the others exchanging uneasy glances. Karlach caught Astarion's eye, a silent nod urging him forward. With a sigh, he approached, his usual swagger subdued as he knelt beside her. He extended a hand toward her shoulder, but hesitated, dropping it to his side as he noticed the way her nails were digging into her own skin, her teeth grinding together as she struggled against the bloodlust. Sighing, Astarion lowered himself to sit beside her, resting his arms on his knees.

Ishta's gaze flicked to him, her voice a hiss through clenched teeth. "What are you doing?"

He gave a small, casual shrug. "I know how stubborn you can be, so it's probably going to take forever before you allow yourself to feed on one of those Gith. I thought I'd sit and make myself comfortable while we wait."

"Piss off!" she snapped, but her voice wavered, desperation breaking through the anger.

Astarion arched an eyebrow, his tone calm. "Now, now. No need to lose our temper, I'm only trying to help. The sooner you feed, the sooner you'll feel better."

Ishta shuddered, clutching herself tighter, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he murmured, keeping his voice soft but insistent. "All you have to do is walk up to a nice fresh corpse, open wide, and sink your teeth in. Easiest thing in the world."

She looked up at him, and he was startled by the raw pain in her crimson gaze. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, her entire body taut with restraint.

"Astarion, I can't... I haven't fed on anything but animals for a century," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't want to go back to the way I was in the early days. Please, don't make me."

For once, Astarion found himself at a loss for words, the teasing remarks dying on his tongue. He knew the torment of resisting bloodlust, knew the agony of fighting against one's own nature. And though he was still learning the complexities of her struggles, he understood this much: for her, this was more than mere survival - it was a battle for her soul.

"I won't," he murmured, his tone as gentle as he could manage. "We can probably find something else for you... but I don't think it will come any time soon. Are you sure you can hold out that long?"

Ishta's gaze drifted unwillingly to one of the bodies, her nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of the blood pooling around it. She shook her head dejectedly. "I'm going to have to."

Karlach knelt beside her, her voice soft but no-nonsense. "Come on, soldier. Don't be a fool. You're clearly a mess right now. If slurping a bit of blood will clear your head, I say go for it." She grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "I'd offer you mine, but it might be a bit too spicy for ya. You'd probably be shitting yourself for days."

A strangled laugh broke from Ishta's lips, a weak smile tugging at her mouth as she glanced at Karlach.

Astarion raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Oh, that's rich. She gets a smile, and I get profanity? Now I see who the favorite is."

Ishta gave him a tired grin, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "Maybe you shouldn't have urged her to make a pass at me then."

Karlach winked, flashing a wicked grin. "Didn't need much urging."

Ishta let out a resigned sigh, her shoulders finally slumping in defeat. She looked down at the nearest body, her expression a mix of reluctance and hunger and whispered, "Fine..."

Astarion stood and extended his hand to her, an offer she didn't expect, judging by the flicker of surprise in her tired eyes. Still, she took it, allowing him to pull her up. For a moment, her gaze drifted to his neck, her lips parting almost imperceptibly. He raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile curling on his lips.

"Don't you even think about it," he teased. "Trust me, my blood won't be nearly as appetizing."

Karlach crossed her arms, grinning with a raised eyebrow. "How do you know? You can drink Ishta's, no problem."

Astarion rolled his eyes, casting a wry look at her. "Let's just say I got desperate one day and tried my own, only to discover there are some things even worse than starving."

Ishta, who had knelt beside the fallen inquisitor's body, looked up at Karlach, her eyes distant as she replied, "Astarion's only ever drunk from me while I'm... normal. Chances are I taste pretty foul right now."

She glanced back at him, a mischievous glint sparking through her fatigue. "Why don't we find out for sure? It'd be interesting to see if my blood does anything else besides the wine trick."

Astarion smirked, meeting her gaze with a sly smile. "Nice try darling, but you're just stalling. Hurry up, or it'll go cold."

Ishta scowled at him, muttering something under her breath, before finally lowering herself over the body. Her shoulders tensed as she leaned toward the neck, hovering, and Astarion caught the faintest shudder before she bit down. He could see the subtle transformation in her posture, the rigid tension melting as the blood began to settle her.

Karlach, eyes wide with fascination, leaned forward, her interest evident. Astarion caught her eye, frowning slightly as he tilted his head toward the others in a subtle signal to give Ishta some space. Karlach caught on, looking slightly abashed as she backed away and joined Gale and Lae'zel who were hovering a short distance away.

Astarion was about to follow when Ishta suddenly jerked upright, scrambling back from the body as if it had burned her. Horror twisted her face as she looked down at her blood-streaked hands, panic flashing in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he took a step toward her.

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes were wide and distant, her breathing shallow and ragged as she wiped at her mouth frantically.

Astarion's heart clenched as he recognized the look on her face - the same loathing he'd once felt, an instinctual rejection of what he'd become. She began rubbing her hands against her trousers with a manic desperation, as if she could scrub away the reality of her nature through sheer force.

Suddenly, Ishta slammed her fist into the tiled floor, a crack splintering out beneath her knuckles. The sound snapped Astarion out of his own thoughts, and he strode forward, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Stop that!"

She flinched at his tone, collapsing onto her side, curling up into herself, her shoulders shaking as soft sobs broke free. Guilt flooded Astarion, pressing down on his chest, but he pushed it aside. Spinning toward the others, his gaze was fierce as he ordered sharply, "Leave us."

Without a word, Karlach, Gale, and Lae'zel moved away to the far side of the chamber, retreating toward a cluster of alcoves where shelves of old relics lay collecting dust.

Astarion turned back to Ishta, kneeling beside her huddled form, his heart twisting painfully as he watched her struggle. Helplessness gnawed at him as he watched her shoulders shake, her fingers clawing at her arms as if she could somehow claw her way free of herself. Without hesitation this time, he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake.

"Ishta," he murmured, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "What's done is done. We need you to focus now. An entire crèche waits for us outside those doors and, as much as I'd love to pretend otherwise, we can't face them without you."

She stirred slightly, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze. Tears matted her hair, copper strands draped over her eyes in damp wisps. Without thinking, he reached out, brushing them aside. The intimacy of the gesture hit him, his hand freezing mid-motion as his eyes flicked nervously to hers. But she didn't recoil, didn't turn away. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable, and he watched in wonder as the red slowly faded from her eyes, leaving behind only the familiar warm gold.

Slowly, Ishta pulled herself up, settling into a sitting position, her arms draped over her knees as she let out a long, shaky breath.

"Feel better now?" he asked, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

She let out a hollow laugh, the sound brittle as she stared at the floor. "No. I feel like shit." But a trace of her old humor returned, softening her voice. "But at least I'm no longer hungry."

"Lucky you," Astarion replied with a dry smile. "I'm not sure I've ever fully sated my hunger, no matter how much I drink. I don't think 'regular' vampires ever truly can, to be honest."

Ishta sighed, her gaze falling back to the inquisitor's lifeless form beside them. "When I feed on animals, I can pretend it's no different than butchering them for meat. But this..." Her voice trailed off, a dark look in her eyes as she gestured vaguely to the body.

Astarion's voice softened, understanding in his tone as he met her gaze. "Feels more like cannibalism?"

She nodded, and they sat in silence for a while, a shared understanding settling between them, one that needed no words. In the distance, he could hear Gale mumbling to himself, likely cataloging artifacts from the nearby reliquaries. Astarion couldn't help but roll his eyes at the mage's unerring dedication to academic curiosity, even amidst the carnage.

"Well," he said finally, breaking the silence, "at least now you no longer have to wonder what Lae'zel tastes like."

A muffled laugh escaped her, her head tilting up to give him a mildly disapproving look, but he only grinned wider.

Ishta shook her head, the barest hint of a smile softening her weary features. "Definitely not an Amnian liqueur."

Before Astarion could reply, Karlach's voice echoed across the room, brimming with excitement. "Guys! Come and check this out. We found a secret passage!"

Astarion's eyes lit up, and he shot Ishta an eager look as they both rose from the floor. "My favorite kind."

He started toward the others but stopped when he felt her hand on his arm, her grip light yet hesitant. He turned, a question in his eyes as she stepped closer, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that made his heart skip. She looked uncertain, her body half-turned as if wanting to move closer but held back by some invisible restraint. He felt his pulse quicken, a strange, breathless anticipation settling over him as she took a step nearer, her lips parting to speak.

"Astarion... I-"

But before she could finish, a loud explosion shattered the moment, followed by a string of curses from Lae'zel.

Ishta groaned, a blend of exasperation and reluctant amusement in her tone. "Hold that thought." She scooped up her scimitars, shooting him a quick, apologetic glance before dashing toward the chaos, shouting, "What have I told you about checking for traps?"

Astarion watched her disappear into the shadows, frozen in a daze of conflicting emotions. His mind raced, turning over the last few seconds, trying to decipher her actions as he was left with a strange, nagging feeling - that, in another breath, she might have leaned into him, reached for him in a way that went beyond their usual camaraderie.

With a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle, he shook his head, dispelling the ridiculous notion. Why on Toril would she do that?

He was just getting ahead of himself again, always too eager to grasp at affection like a starving man clutching crumbs. He took a steadying breath and followed after her, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he caught up, ready to see what new mischief awaited them.

Ishta's gaze swept across the chamber, every inch of the space adding to the sense of unease she felt gnawing at her. The architecture was ancient, heavy with the weight of time, but it felt more like a forgotten machine than a sanctuary.

Twisted metal pillars rose from the floor, towering above the platform that held a glowing morningstar in the center, their dull surfaces flecked with rust and timeworn inscriptions. The plinth, circular and elaborate, seemed out of place, suspended above a dizzying drop. The soft hum of dormant mechanisms, as if waiting for a command, vibrated beneath her boots, sending a shiver up her spine.

Ishta's mind raced as she examined the surroundings, searching for any hidden mechanisms that could hint at an exit. Her muscles were tense, not from fear but from the constant vigilance that survival in such a place demanded.

Beside her, Astarion kept glancing at the weapon, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that Ishta recognized all too well. She narrowed her gaze. His fascination was unmistakable, the golden glow of the artifact reflecting in his pupils like sunlight, and that in itself made Ishta uneasy. The irony of a Vampire, of all creatures, coveting something so intimately tied to a sun god wasn't lost on her. But to Astarion, the weapon likely represented power - a defiance of his curse, perhaps even a sense of control over what had been taken from him.

"Don't even think about it," Ishta said, her tone low but sharp, cutting through the quiet.

A feigned innocence danced across Astarion's features as he flicked an errant lock of hair behind his ear. "Oh come now," he replied, his voice oozing with his usual brand of charm. "We've already made it through all the traps, and I don't see any more lurking in this room. I say we deserve a reward."

"Those traps were far too easy for something as powerful as that artifact," Ishta shot back, her tone brooking no argument.

"Easy, she says," Gale interjected with a dry, weary sigh, gingerly lifting the scorched edge of his cloak. "While I'm left wearing what's barely recognizable as a cloak."

Astarion's lips curled into a smirk. "You see? Even Gale agrees with me."

"That's not quite what I was saying."

Lae'zel, ever the pragmatist, stepped closer to the edge of the platform, her eyes scanning for threats, her demeanor bristling with impatience. "Less chatter. More searching."

"I couldn't agree more," Ishta muttered under her breath, already walking toward the edges of the chamber, her sharp gaze tracing the mechanisms carved into the walls.

Behind her, Astarion's voice dripped with theatricality, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "All I'm saying is, as much as I respect your impressive abilities, dear Ishta, I'd still feel better about facing Cazador with a weapon that could burn him to a crisp."

Ishta shot him a sharp look, her voice firm. "And I intend to get it for you - once we have an escape route."

Satisfied, for now, Astarion fell quiet, though his eyes still lingered on the glowing weapon.

Ishta moved with purpose, her gaze flicking from the runes on the walls to the strange metal structures that surrounded the platform. There had to be something here - a hidden switch, a clue, anything that might offer a way out of this deathtrap. The machinery hissed softly, as though waiting for a command, but every inch of the chamber felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for someone to make the wrong move.

She had barely taken a step further when the low hum began to rise, vibrating through the floor beneath her boots. Ishta whipped around just in time to see Astarion jerking his hand back from the plinth, his face a picture of guilt.

"What did you do?" she demanded, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"Nothing!" Astarion's hands shot up defensively. "I barely touched it!"

The hum grew into a piercing whine, and suddenly, a wall of energy erupted around the central platform. It shot upward, a shimmering, impenetrable barrier surrounding the morningstar - and Astarion. His hand reached out to the glowing wall, only to jerk back, hissing in pain. His wide eyes met Ishta's, the realization dawning on him.

"Damn it!" Ishta rushed forward, her eyes darting between the glowing barrier and the rising rings of metal spinning slowly above Astarion's head, their motion smooth but threatening.

"Misty Step out of there, now!" Ishta ordered, her mind racing for solutions.

Astarion closed his eyes, concentrating, but when he vanished, it was only for a heartbeat. He reappeared in the exact same spot, as if yanked backward, and a shockwave of energy hurled him across the dias. He collided with the opposite side of the barrier with a bone-rattling thud and a pained cry, crumpling to the floor in a heap.

"Astarion!" Panic edged Ishta's voice as she knelt by the barrier, her hands hovering above the shimmering wall.

With a groan, Astarion pushed himself up, staggering to his feet, his hand pressing to his side. His face was pale, his breath ragged. "I'm fine," he wheezed, his usual bravado faltering, "Just... a little bruised - both in body and pride."

Ishta's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. The metal rings above him spun faster now, the light intensifying, casting ominous shadows across the chamber. Time was running out.

Beams of light shot out from the pillars with a sudden, violent flash, converging on a vast metal arch recessed into the far wall. The stone in it's centre shimmered, transforming under the influence of the beams, and a glowing portal materialized within the arch.

From where she stood, Ishta could make out faint greenery on the other side - trees, perhaps - and a gust of fresh air rushed through the chamber. Her pulse quickened. Could it lead outside? Yet the beams didn't stop at the doorway. They stretched far beyond, connecting to something distant, something unseen but undeniably ominous.

"Lae'zel, head through the portal and see where those beams are heading," Ishta commanded, her voice clipped with urgency.

Lae'zel didn't need further instruction. Without hesitation, she bolted toward the portal, disappearing beyond the threshold.

Gale, meanwhile, was kneeling, muttering to himself as he inspected the flickering barrier that still imprisoned Astarion. His fingers traced symbols in the air, each gesture a subtle probe into the arcane mystery around them.

Astarion, his usual cocky demeanor diminished, stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching everything with narrowed eyes. He shifted restlessly, his gaze constantly flicking to the rotating rings above. Ishta could sense his mounting fear beneath the veneer of calm.

Then, Lae'zel's voice, sharp and invasive, echoed in her mind. "The beams seem to be powering a device I suspect to be the Sun-Lance mentioned in the monks' journal. If its destructive power is as great as he surmised, it will bring down the entire monastery upon your heads - and destroy the creche."

Ishta's chest tightened, but she steadied herself. Lae'zel's concern, normally masked by her stoic exterior, bled through the mental link. Ishta could feel it. The Githyanki cared for her people. Perhaps they were enemies now, but that didn't mean Lae'zel would see them slaughtered.

"I won't let that happen," Ishta projected back, her jaw tightening. "Get to the weapon and see if there's a way to disable it. I'll try to disrupt the beams from in here."

She whirled around, addressing the others. "It appears we're about to be blasted with an ancient, arcane sun-powered cannon. As death traps go, I'd say it's one of the more impressive I've encountered."

Karlach raised an eyebrow, her eyes darting nervously between the glowing beams and the rapidly spinning metal rings. "So, what's the plan, soldier?"

"Karlach, go through the portal and help Lae'zel find a way to either disable or move the cannon. Gale, if your hand is healed enough now, I need you to help me knock out those pillars - I believe they're powering it up."

Astarion's voice cut in, sarcasm underpinned by a sharp edge of panic. "And I suppose I'll just stand here and look pretty?"

Ishta didn't even turn as she shot back, "For starters, grab that blasted morningstar..."

Astarion's scowl deepened, as he stepped toward the artifact. The golden glow illuminated his pale skin as he reluctantly removed the weapon from its pedestal, tying it to his belt. Ishta caught the flicker of fear behind his eyes as he cast another wary glance at the swirling rings above his head.

"Don't worry," she mentally reassured him, though her focus remained on the looming threat. "We'll get you out of there."

Then Gale's voice, tinged with excitement, cut through the din of the machinery. "I think I've detected the source of the barrier's energy."

Ishta followed his gaze to the edge of the platform, where a jagged crystal formation jutted out from the rockface, glowing faintly with the same sickly light that fed the barrier trapping Astarion. Before she could respond, the humming sound of charging energy grew louder. The rings above Astarion began spinning faster, their glow intensifying until the light almost seared the air.

Astarion's eyes snapped wide with panic. "Don't just stand there, get me out of here now!" His voice broke, the fear he'd been suppressing finally clawing its way to the surface.

Ishta moved swiftly, directing Gale to keep focusing on the pillars. She drew her bow, firing at the crystal formation below. Her arrow clattered uselessly against the surface, and frustration gnawed at her nerves. She quickly switched tactics, pulling explosive arrowheads from her quiver, attaching them with shaking fingers. The hum grew louder, almost a roar now, reverberating in her bones.

Behind her, she heard a sharp cry. Astarion had started pounding against the barrier, desperation fueling each strike. Ishta's heart lurched, but she forced herself to focus. Gale had already collapsed to his knees, his energy visibly drained. Two of the pillars had been knocked out, but they weren't enough. The beams were still active, though weaker now, and the rings above them spun with relentless intensity.

Ishta rushed to Gale's side, slipping an arm under his to help him up. "Your magic is spent. Get yourself to safety, leave the rest to me."

Gale shook his head, his eyes glassy with fatigue. "I can't leave you here!"

"You can, and you will," Ishta growled. "Go help the others with the cannon. That's an order."

For a moment, Gale looked torn, but the firmness in Ishta's voice left no room for argument. "Don't make me knock you out and throw you through that portal, because I will."

Reluctantly, Gale nodded and Ishta helped him to the edge of the shimmering doorway. Behind them, Astarion's frantic voice echoed through the chamber. "Don't you dare leave me! Come back here, you cowards!"

Ishta glanced over her shoulder. Astarion's fists were raw, his face a mask of terror as he slammed his body against the barrier again and again.

Ignoring the knot of worry in her gut she directed Gale through the portal, then sprinted back toward the edge of the platform. Her explosive arrows finally found their mark, shattering the crystal with a deafening crack, sending shards raining down into the abyss below.

Astarion's next wild charge hit nothing but air. He stumbled, pitching forward dangerously close to the edge. In an instant, Ishta darted forward, her hand closing around his wrist just as his feet slipped over the precipice. His weight dragged against her, and for a heartbeat, he dangled above the void, his eyes wide with shock.

With a grunt of effort, Ishta hauled him up, her muscles straining as she pulled him onto solid ground, both of them collapsing in a heap.

Astarion's breath came in shallow gasps as he stumbled to his feet, the edge of panic tightening around his chest. His entire body still tingled from the near-fall, adrenaline making his limbs feel like they were moving through water. He shot a glance at Ishta, half expecting her to sprint toward the portal with him. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot, her fingers expertly nocking an arrow, her eyes burning with determination as she aimed at the remaining pillars.

"What are you doing?!" Astarion snapped, his voice taut with barely controlled panic. He turned fully, eyes wide, as debris began to rain from the ceiling, the sound of cracking stone growing louder. "We need to get out of here now!"

Ishta didn't even look at him, her focus razor-sharp as she loosed another explosive arrow. "I'm not leaving until I've disabled this weapon. It will bring down the entire monastery."

Astarion's hands clenched into fists, anger rising to match the fear twisting in his gut. "Precisely why we need to get the hells out of here!"

The chamber rumbled, and for a second, Astarion thought the ground beneath them might split open. Ishta remained steadfast, her fingers notching another arrow with deadly precision. The energy beams hummed louder, their eerie light casting flickering shadows across her face.

"The crèche will be destroyed too," she added, her tone flat as though that fact alone should stop him in his tracks.

Astarion threw his hands up in exasperation. "Wonderful! I'd call that a bonus."

Only then did Ishta pause, as she shot him a glare so savage it silenced any further protest from him. Her eyes were like fire, burning with a determination he recognized all too well.

Astarion glanced longingly at the portal, the shimmering light promising escape, safety - everything his instincts screamed at him to take. But behind him, the chamber groaned, rocks beginning to shift, the first signs of collapse sending cracks spiraling through the stone. His gaze darted back to Ishta, still focused on the pillars, as if her stubbornness alone could keep the entire chamber from crumbling.

Dammit!

Astarion lunged, rushing toward Ishta just as she took out the third pillar. He felt a surge of hope as the beam flickered and dimmed - but it wasn't enough. The weapon was still powering up, and the chamber was still collapsing. He grabbed her arm, trying to yank her back, his grip strong but trembling, but she shrugged him off forcefully.

"Get out of here, Astarion. Now!" Ishta's voice was harsh, commanding.

But Astarion had reached his limit. Roughly, he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him, his anger bubbling over. "Stop trying to be a gods-damned hero all the time!"

For a moment, Ishta's fury matched his, her eyes blazing with a retort that never came. The chamber shook violently as a massive explosion of energy rocked the room, sending a beam of blinding light crashing into the pedestal where the morningstar once floated. The entire structure groaned like a wounded beast. Above them, the ceiling cracked, and a massive slab broke free, plummeting toward them.

"Move!" Astarion barely had time to shout as they both dove, the rock smashing into the ground between them, shards of stone exploding outward. Astarion felt a sharp sting across his cheek, but it was Ishta's cry of pain that sent a jolt through his veins. He whipped around, his breath catching as he saw her struggling to stand, blood trickling from a deep gash on her leg.

Astarion's panic spiked as he rushed to her side, his hands shaking as he hoisted her up, slinging her arm over his shoulders. Every step was a mental agony for him - every instinct screamed for him to abandon her, to run - but somehow, his legs kept moving, pushing them both toward the portal.

"See," he growled through gritted teeth, half-dragging, half-carrying her, "this is what happens when you try to do the right thing. It always goes wrong."

Despite her pain, Ishta let out a strained chuckle. "I agree," she managed, wincing as they stumbled forward. "Sparing you was the worst mistake I ever made. Now I'm stuck with a Vampire as stubborn as me."

Astarion flashed a quick smirk but couldn't focus on anything except the ever-nearing portal. He could feel the weight of the chamber collapsing behind them, the rumble growing louder with every step. They were almost there - almost free.

Another explosion rocked the chamber, a wave of stone and debris crashing behind them. The ground trembled beneath his boots, but they were close - so close. The portal shimmered ahead, just a few steps away. They could make it.

But just as they passed through the threshold, Astarion felt a force slam into his back, knocking the air from his lungs. His body hurtled forward, crashing painfully against a low, ivy-covered wall.

Dazed, he rolled over just in time to see the worst.

Ishta - her hand outstretched, frozen in the action of pushing him to safety as a wave of rubble poured through the portal behind them.

For a second, she locked eyes with him, her faint, knowing smile cutting through the chaos.

Time slowed. His heart stopped.

Astarion reached out even as the debris cascaded over her, blocking her from his view. The last thing he saw was her smile disappearing beneath the crushing weight, and he let out a cry, his voice a raw scream.

"Ishta!"

Dust filled the air, pouring into his lungs and choking him as he scrambled back, shielding his eyes and head from the falling stone. Coughing, he waited for what seemed like an eternity for the ground to stop shaking, a deathly quiet following the last rumbles of settling stone.

Astarion knelt there, staring dumbly at the pile of debris in front of him. His mind struggled to catch up with the reality of what had just happened. Stone - so much stone - had come crashing down through the portal, and now, half of it was cut clean, severed as neatly as a blade. The portal was gone and the rest of the monastery trembled ominously, but it was eerily intact, as if mocking him with its survival. The weapon, too, had fallen silent. Everything was deathly still.

His breath hitched, a cold dread pooling in his gut.

It wasn't until he found himself frantically digging into the rubble, his hands raw and shaking, that he fully realized what he was doing. His fingers clawed at the cold, jagged rocks, tearing them away piece by piece, blood smearing across the stone from cuts on his hands. Each movement was wild, desperate. He had to get to her.

A clatter of footsteps approached, and soon Gale and the others were at his side.

"What happened?" Gale's voice broke through Astarion's frenzied digging, but it barely registered. "Where is Ishta?"

Astarion whipped around, his frustration and panic turning to venom. "Do you think I'm digging in the dirt for my own amusement?!" he snapped. "She's underneath all this!"

Gale paled. Without a word, the others jumped in, pulling rocks and debris aside. Astarion's breath came in short, sharp bursts, and the pit in his stomach grew colder with each chunk of stone they moved. They had to find her. They had to.

Then, there she was.

As Karlach and Lae'zel lifted a massive chunk of stone, Ishta's body came into view - half-buried, face-down in the gravel, her copper hair matted with blood and dust. Astarion's own blood turned to ice in his veins.

"Get her out," he choked, his voice cracking.

Gale and Lae'zel grabbed under her shoulders, pulling her limp form into the faint light. For a second, hope flickered in Astarion's chest - she had to be alive. She had to be.

But as they laid her down and rolled her over, that hope shattered.

Her golden eyes, once full of warmth and laughter now stared frozenly up at his - cold, glassy, lifeless. Blood streaked across her face, running from her nose and mouth. Her head was covered in it, the once-proud warrior now a broken, motionless figure.

Gale knelt beside her, his fingers trembling as he checked her pulse, but the look on his face told Astarion everything he needed to know. Ishta, the woman who had faced monsters, devils, and gods without flinching... was dead.

Karlach's voice cut through the quiet, hesitant, as though she already knew the answer. "Is she...?"

Gale exhaled, a sigh full of anguish. "I'm afraid she's gone."

Astarion couldn't speak. He couldn't even think. He could only stare at Ishta's face, her unseeing eyes, and the blood that dripped down her chin. His knees gave way, and he collapsed beside her, staring dumbly at her lifeless body.

Lae'zel stood stiff, her face hard as stone, though even her posture sagged slightly at the weight of the loss. "She proved herself the most noble of warriors this day," she said quietly, her voice devoid of its usual bite. "To die protecting those who would scorn us."

But the respect in her tone was short-lived. Her gaze turned murderous, and before Astarion could react, she had drawn her blade, the tip of it pressed against his neck. "There would have been no need for such a sacrifice if you had not let your greed overpower you!"

Astarion barely registered the point of the blade biting into his skin. The numbness inside him was too overwhelming, too suffocating for him to care. He kept his gaze fixed on Ishta, even as Lae'zel's fury vibrated through the air.

"I should slit your throat for the chaos you have caused this day," she hissed, her hand steady on the hilt. "Letting a selfish creature like you join us, was a mistake."

Astarion didn't flinch. He knew he should be afraid of Lae'zel's wrath, but the fear wouldn't come. He couldn't feel anything. Not even the sting of the blade or the blood trickling down his neck. A breeze stirred, blowing a few strands of Ishta's hair across her face, and automatically, he gently brushed them away. It felt wrong to see her like this - broken, still.

"Lae'zel," Karlach's voice was firm. "Calm down. Killing him won't bring Ishta back."

"Perhaps not," Lae'zel growled, her knuckles whitening on the hilt of her sword, "but I hunger for vengeance all the same."

Gale's voice softened, cutting through the rising tension. He was watching Astarion closely, his eyes filled with concern. "Astarion? What happened back there?"

Astarion lifted his head slowly, the movement lethargic as though each muscle resisted. His eyes, hollow and lost, met Gale's. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "She pushed me clear. She... she saved me."

Gale's brows furrowed with surprise and concern as he studied Astarion's face, as if trying to make sense of his reaction.

Gently, Gale placed his hand on Astarion's shoulder. "Now it's your turn to do the same for her."

Astarion blinked, confusion momentarily breaking through the fog of grief. He glanced down at Ishta, at her broken form, and then back at Gale. "What...?"

"Withers," Gale explained, his voice calm but urgent. "He's the only one who can bring her back. And you're the only one fast enough to reach the camp before the sun sets."

Understanding hit him like a bolt of lightning, shattering the despair that had weighed him down. He shot to his feet, the sudden movement causing Lae'zel's blade to nick his skin, but he didn't care. He tore the morningstar from his belt and threw it to the ground with a snarl, hastily removing pieces of his armor, desperate to shed any unnecessary weight.

He spared one last glance at Ishta's body, lying still and bloodied, and then he ran. He ran like the hounds of the Nine Hells were at his back, every part of him screaming to move faster. Each step felt like it might tear him apart, but he didn't stop. He wasn't going to lose her. Not like this.