AMNE POV

We already knew the land was sick, it was cursed by Shar and her madness. But Halsin was distraught. Thaniel. He kept muttering about, pacing the Inn, eyes wild as they scanned in front of him but didn't really see. I knew Halsin had a deep connection to nature, there was no telling how old he really was due to his Elf lineage, but this was like he was trying to staunch an open wound. The way that name tumbled from his lips. Eventually Karlach managed to get him to stop and explain. This Thaniel was some kind of spirit of the land, and he was lost out there in the darkness. Or part of him was. Halsin had to find Thaniel first though, to seek him out and figure out how to help. The shadows of this land, as much as they unnerved the rest of us, seemed to genuinely hurt Halsin.

I laid a hand on his arm and waited until he had focused on me. "So you need someone to go looking for this other half of Thaniel?"

He nodded, brows pinching. "But it will be dangerous out there."

"We have Isobel's blessing for the shadows, and any creatures can be felled by a blade." I winked and patted his arm. "You have already been so helpful to us Halsin, time we repaid that a bit I think. Especially as we're stuck here for the time being, figuring out next steps."

Gale was sat to the side, deep in his research about Ketheric Thorm and his attachments to this Absolute. The deity that seemed to be connected to, or part of the Illithid madness. Our Wizard would stay put and keep looking. And Lae'zel would stay with the Harper healers. Her fatigue and glassiness from the Purification continued to weigh on her. And as much as she wished to deny it, when I managed to best her in sparring, she had to concede. Something had changed within her. And we would see if the Harpers could undo it. So it would be me, Astarion, Shadowheart and Karlach heading into the dank wilds of this place. To find a boy. Maybe. But Halsin assured us we would know it when we found it. As annoying as that was, I could appreciate he knew no better specific, or he would be doing this task himself.

And so we left.

Trudging back into the darkness, I was glad of the nearby warmth of Karlach occasionally swathing over me. She stayed close. Astarion was on the outer edge of our little party, his observation skills our best bet at avoiding confrontation, or a nasty death. Shadowheart, remained oddly calm. She was protected from the Shadows by Shar, but as the darkness swirled by our feet, I don't think she was able to take as much comfort in that as she had expected. I couldn't deny it– there was something fundamentally 'wrong' feeling about this place. Maybe she had the same feeling.

That violent need within me writhed. The potential for violence was almost constant, and in turn it was on high alert for that outlet. To fight. To cut. To paint something red. I kept it down, held onto the hilt of my blade and focused on the task at hand. I would not lose myself to this. Whatever the hell it actually was. Thankfully the others didn't seem to notice anything amiss, or at least they were very good at hiding it if they did.

We searched for hours.

But just as I thought we were truly lost, a movement caught my eye. And we came across a boy, living alone it seemed, among the shadows.

Like a story straight out of a child's book, he was stood in a small cottage, surrounded by spirits. But they didn't attack him. If anything, they were protecting. He was a brat in all honesty, totally aloof and refusing to speak with us until we played his game. My patience was at an all-time low it seemed as I found myself wanting to shake the kid. It was the boy Halsin had spoken of, I was sure of it. The mis-matched eyes, the bitterness to the world, the fact the shadows didn't affect him. If anything, I think they made him stronger.

But I didn't understand.

And the more I came to realise that, the more it was obvious this wasn't something to be solved by my blade or my brute strength, I faltered. My hands shook. My nerves wavered. I stepped back and let Shadowheart and Karlach take over, my words falling silent, hitting the ground like lead weights.

Astarion was watching me, and I had no idea what he saw.

Maybe he finally saw me; a fool out of her depth.

I stepped away, staring out at the gloomy lands, wondering what the hells it was that I was meant to be doing. Halsin needed our help. I wanted to give it. But how was I meant to relate to a child when I didn't even recall my own childhood? My mind was blank. Maybe I was a brat, or spoiled, maybe I was quiet and afraid. Not often, but sometimes this blankness within my mind for what came before the Nautiloid was such a fucking chasm of pain. Total and complete loss.

What am I?

Who am I?

I know none of it.

I hugged myself tightly as Astarion came alongside. I gritted my teeth. "I've no idea how to help the kid… I don't even remember being one."

He scanned the murky horizon. "You seem to be doing just fine, as far as I can see."

"You really think so?"

"Come now, I'm not known for my false praise." He smirked and gave me the side-eye.

"True." I looked towards the shadows again. "I just seemed to be annoying him though."

"Probably because you weren't putting up with his nonsense. Trust me. As someone regularly relying on nonsense that you refuse to put up with, it can be frustrating."

Such honesty.

I swallowed hard. "Do you remember being a child? I realise it's quite a bit longer for you, and you don't have to answer of course, but–"

"Dimly." He set his jaw. "As you can imagine it's rather far back and… Well… It lies on the other side of all of this." He gestured to himself, his vampiric self. "But I recall a few things. I remember being loved, being listened to, being guided. A hand to hold. A warm bed. That sort of thing… In all honesty it's been a very long time since I even tried to remember."

Trying to imagine Astarion as a child proved far more difficult than I realised. Children tended to be open to the world, forgiving of it and curious. He was usually so closed off, I struggled to put that innocence against his self.

I inclined my head. "Was thinking about your previous life something else Cazador forbade?"

"In a way…" Astarion closed his eyes as some moonlight washed by, the clouds thinning for a moment. "We were meant to be totally committed to him, to his family, to his way of life. But even when alone, when certain he couldn't truly read my thoughts, I would look back and…"

"It was hard to grasp?"

"No." He sighed. "In all honesty it only brought pain. A lot of 'what if' questions, a lot of regret, a lot of… pining. And within that dark place, there was already so much of that."

That part was easy to picture. Astarion within the confines of some big cold palace, Cazador a looming shadow in the background, and Astarion being cornered day by day. So small. Broken. Left to dwindle each day away in some poorly made coffin no doubt, abandoned until needed again, left with only a rat to sustain himself, and daring to look back on happier times. Only for them to cause him pain. To make him long far more than he ever had previously.

I hadn't meant to, but my hand had taken his and held gently. He was looking down at our connected hands, and I was fully prepared for him to pull away, to smirk and make some aloof comment. But no. He smiled softly and held back in return, he even gave a little squeeze. So often he made no sense to me, but at other times it was like reading a book plain as black and white upon the page. He just needed someone to quietly be there. To accept him. I think. Or I was projecting a need from within me, a want to be needed. Or even wanted.

A coldness settled in my chest, and I think the shiver ran down my whole body with the way his gaze snapped back up to me and lingered, concern furrowing his brow.

I swallowed hard. "I'm glad you at least have the warmth to think of though. Sorry it causes you pain at the same time."

"Little one, what're you–"

"Sorry, I don't know." I retracted my hand and stepped back a little, panic rising in my chest next to the coldness, stealing my breath. "I have no idea. Why am I getting all antsy?" I laughed, trying to alleviate the sensation robbing me of air. But it only choked me.

He stepped in close and cupped my face. Those ruby eyes stared, waiting until my gaze met his properly, before he stared a couple seconds longer and then nodded slowly, still maintaining eye contact. "You do not need to know. Just breathe. It is a gift to even be able to look back at this point, right? To consider what you do or do not, know, feel, miss, long for. It's all a gift in some wretched way."

My mouth closed and I stared into his eyes. "You're right."

"Sweet one, I know that," he winked and then his hold skimmed down my neck and held onto my shoulders. "Halsin trusted us with this task because of you, you should understand that. A lot of us have our strengths, our prowess to be used. And while mine is stabbing people in the dark and being dashing, and Lae'zel's is swinging that sword and cutting to the point, yours is holding this wayward band together, and fighting like hell in the meantime. That ability to bring a bunch of weirdos together… I truly think that is what Halsin is relying on in you. Not a childhood memory of yours, or you having perfect recollection. You. Your warmth."

"Damn. That's a lot"

He smirked. "Indeed you are."

And stood in that dim light, with those wonderful words still ringing against the inside of my mind, I wanted so badly to pull him into a kiss. To share that warmth. To pull him close and feel his skin on mine, hear his breathless gasp of my name, watch his expression melt into bliss. And as he glanced at my lips and his jaw tightened again, I think he had the same notion. Perhaps growing closer was affecting us both more than we realised. I pushed the carnal side of the sensation away and leaned in to give a tender peck to his cheek. It didn't have to always be lusting. Not here. Not in that space. And I think it was important for him to know that.

He grinned. "You are so sweet sometimes, it's hard to resist."

I bit my lip. "Don't feel the need to."

"Oh dear, you are trouble." He leaned in and pulled me close, his lips meeting mine and making the gloom seem that little bit further away. I kept it chaste. Didn't push for more. But he did. His fingers threaded into my hair and angled my head back, licking into my mouth as soon as I parted my lips. Gods he knew what he was doing. I met him halfway and just focused on the push and pull, the way my nerves twinged at the closeness, the way I just wanted more and found that given.

As we parted, both a little lost for breath, we shared a smile.

Damn he was addictive.

The others called our names from the small structure and we headed back, it looked like they had made progress with the boy. Good. Because I felt like I'd made progress with myself.

The boy said his name was Oliver. I tried to focus on it being some kind of connection to Thraniel, rather than the name of a boy who might have once lived in that small space. A stolen name. A taken name. No. For now, it was simply his and that was all I needed to know.

One eye consumed by the curse's corruption, the other staring and warm despite his haughty attitude. It reminded me of someone else I knew. But with that came the recollection of Astarion's words. Halsin had asked this of us because he believed we could do it, and that was based on my warmth, on my ability to bring these wayward souls together. I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I suppose I had. It was hard to envision Astarion having worked with anyone else had he not met us. I suppose, if he had not met me. Weird.

And so I spoke with the boy, I tried to tap into that sense of people I had known and used already. Yes he was a child and yes that changed things a little, but it didn't change everything. He was a part of this land. Potentially half its spirit. So he was connected to it, and that meant he was connected to people. Or had been at one point. And as we spoke, despite his cagey-ness, I knew we were getting through.

At least, right up until he attacked us.

Bound in a protective bubble he sent those shadows after us and sneered at us from afar. But even then. Even as my blades clashed with shadow and I heard the others unleashing spells or attacks of their own, I knew it was all built on fear. This was a child afraid. And that I did remember. I had felt it when seeing the Chosen in that vision, I had recalled it in the Spider Caverns. I had been afraid. I had been small. I had been helpless. And my anger had lashed out accordingly. It was a survival tactic. Plain and simple.

And so we fought, plain and simple.

And as the shadows fell and copies were destroyed, Oliver grew less and less angry. He grew weary. He was alone, or at least he thought he was. And as hard as we were fighting to stay alive, I had to show him how hard we were also fighting to be heard. Just like him.

And so, bloodstained, weary and bruised, I finally got through to him. With my own fear stepping into the forefront, I reached for him. And the boy was brave enough to meet me halfway. Amazing. We came out the other side, and Oliver faded to the winds. But he was going home. I sensed that, I trusted that. And as he faded from view we all breathed a little easier. We had done it. Or at least part. No doubt there would be other things to do, and other things to mend first, but it still felt like a win.

Shadowheart was quiet, but as I watched her closing in on herself, I sensed that she might not be ready to talk yet. She was still digesting whatever it was. She needed room to think. And we could give her that. We had other things to do within the town anyway, so we headed in that direction rather than back to Last Light. We had Isobel's blessing now anyway so a night or two out here would be fine – at least that was what we hoped. But Gale had boundary runes that he had given us to use if he failed to meet us out here, and Astarion seemed confident he would be able to keep a good watch as well. Shadowheart wasn't even effected by the shadows, and I think Karlach was eager for another fight already. So we stayed out in the wilderness and readied ourselves for camp.

And while we were safe, and even though we had been successful, as we found a clearing and set ourselves up, I had a worry nagging at the back of my mind. Not a specific thing. Or a specific person. Just a feeling of something unsaid, a thought not fully realised. And it kept making my hands clench like vices. Or want to reach for my blade. At first I thought it had to be the area, that I was on high alert for dangers appearing and staking a claim on our lives. But no. We were fine. We were safe even. The camp was secure, my allies were well. So what was this feeling?

I set my tent and went inside quickly, not even lighting a lantern as I stepped inside, closed the flap and sat in the centre on my knees. One breath in. One breath out. My hands clenched and my body fizzed with a need to move. No. I swallowed hard and looked at my hands, so tight the knuckles were white. No it wasn't a need to move at all, was it? It was a want of red. Yes. Red. I gasped. As soon as I thought it for myself, the instinct gripped me and I doubled over, bracing against the tent floor, gulping at the air. Red. Paint it all red. It's too sweet, too smooth, too nice. Stop. Stop it now. No, we have to make it red. It's all meant to be red. That's how this world works, remember? No I don't fucking remember. I don't remember anything! I hugged myself tightly and gritted my teeth.

So far it had only been flickers. Moments of mad thought I'd managed to squash down and move on from. Though not always, poor squirrel. But it hadn't been this invasive before. Not so strong. Shit. Why now? Laughter filled my mind and that woman's silhouette loomed behind my eyelids. Oh. Was it her? That woman, that memory, that strange sense of knowing and fearing? Maybe it had unlocked something new. Maybe. If it had, I didn't want it. I knew that. No matter how hard my hands clenched or how tight my jaw went. I didn't want this!

And it calmed.

Like someone had just opened a window and let in fresh air after a smokey fire had been choking me. I stayed still. I waited. But no sign came. My mind was my own again. Slowly I uncurled, I looked around the tent, but nothing had really happened. Maybe… Maybe I had simply overcome it? Doubt wavered in my mind, but then I heard sounds of the others starting the campfire and I got myself to my feet. I reached for the tent opening and breathed deep. Alright. I'm okay.

I'm okay… Right?

Thanks for reading!