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AMAYA POV

They didn't hate me… That was good…

My thoughts bubbled as the poison sunk deeper, as my blood ran thicker, as my strength withered. Adrenaline had saw me through those few moments of defiance. It had held me up as my body trembled. It kept me firm in the face of all my terror and fear, yelling at the horrid face of my 'sister' as I confronted all of my own demons and accused her of her own. But now? After the pincer had skewered me, I'm left at the mercy of chance, and of my friends.

When I first saw Astarion on those stairs, my heart had leapt oh-so-foolishly. Safety, my heart sang out. As if it was that simple. As if them simply being there meant I could go home to our camp, to sit by the fire and be patched up. But no. Of course not. As soon as I saw him, the relief came and then paled before the horrid memories of him looming over me and saying those cruel words, of him slicing into me, of Karlach laughing at my pain and kicking me in the ribs till they snapped. Of Shadowheart citing Shar teachings as she sliced into my nerves. Lae'zel's grin as her sword nipped my flesh. Halsin, how he had looked so disgusted with me, how he berated my lineage and cursed my very existence. An affront to nature. That was what he had said.

Except no.

Stop it.

None of that was true, it was Orin playing her sick games. Nothing more.

My fevered mind conjured the images all the same, played them behind my eyelids like a stage production. Damn her. Damn me. Damn this place…

"Amne, get your arse up!" Karlach yells from somewhere nearby. "C'mon soldier you gotta move, we gotta get out of this place– Shit!"

The fight continued around me. Clanging weapons. Slicing strikes. Ringing spells. And of course the wet slap of blood being spilt. And beyond that… My heart quivered and my fevered mind reeled… The skittering of Orin's beastly form. She had really made the change. Taken it on once again. She had done it when we were younger I think – I knew this fear like a child knows what it is to peer under the bed and imagine big glowing eyes, or grasping claws. The realisation of a nightmare.

Shit. Focus. Try to move.

But even the thought of it hurt deeply, and my already torn up belly pulsed with more blood. It had slowed, but I figured that was because I was simply running out, rather than it clotting.

Am I dying?

Maybe…

And if I am, they had to run. They had to escape.

CLANG.

A sword impacted beside my hand, hitting the podium rather than my flesh. My eyes snapped open and I looked towards whoever it had been. Was it an enemy making a clumsy attack? Or an ally falling to the side and steadying themselves.

Oh, crap.

A cultist reached for me, his hands clasping for my limp form, in his other hand a serrated blade already dripping with someone's precious blood. His eyes were crazed. And I knew all he could think of was fulfilling Orin's orders. Kill me. Destroy me. Splay me to ribbons across this disgusting altar. And I could do nothing. No strength remained for me to do anything but shiver and fail to get purchase on anything, I couldn't even scream as the blade raised, gleamed and descended. Shit. This was it, wasn't it?

PING.

An arrow shot the blade from his hands, and immediately another followed, lodging in his neck. The cultist choked, garbling on his own blood as he slumped against the podium and then fell out of sight with a dull thump.

"Do you fucking mind, you nasty little shit." That voice. Astarion stepped into view, grimacing down at the ground as he kicked something away. "You've no right to be anywhere near her, hear me?"

A small whimper. And then a final choke as Astarion stomped down.

"Ast…" I tried to speak, but my words slurred in my bloodloss, the poison turning me numb.

His eyes snapped to mine. The sounds of battle ongoing. "You're alive? Thank the gods– Damn it!"

He was gone again, the sounds of battle raging on, swords clashing, roars bellowing. Had I heard the call of Halsin's bear? Maybe. I saw a bright light and heard a crackle – that could be Shadowheart's sacred flame. Maybe. Another clang. Another battle cry. Lae'zel, I think.

Move damn it. They're all here to help you, so do a little bit to help yourself.

I tried to hold my head up, to push myself from the stone table, but my hands got no purchase, too slick with my own blood. So I rolled. My skin screamed at me, every inch on fire with a cut or bruise, or was it just the latest poison they'd forced into my blood? I had no idea. But I managed to roll enough to see what was happening, and my heart clenched at the sight. My allies. My friends. All fighting tooth and nail for me, slicing and bludgeoning, clawing and yelling. Amazing. They were amazing.

And then Orin turned to me. Her monstrous form one I had dreamed of many times, and as I stared at it I was sure I knew it from my youth, from our trainings as Bhaal's damned spawns. But there it was, in all its hideous glory. And now it was baring down on me, that deranged glee evident in those dead eyes just as much as it had been in hers.

"Damn it, stop her!" Shadowheart yelled, another sacred flame blazing into view, striking the side of Orin's monstrous form.

A screech erupted, but she kept coming, scrambling across the bloodied stonework, intent on finishing this quickly at long last. Shit. And I can't do a damned thing. It had taken everything in me to simply hold on this whole time, to not lose my mind to the pain. I'm spent. Damn it, I'm so sorry guys.

A roar sounded, and Halsin's bear collided with Orin, disrupting her path momentarily. Sending her tainted blood across the way, spraying against the stone and anyone nearby. It stung. Acid? Maybe. I gulped at the air, my body starting to loosen from their last use of poison. Yes. That's it. Move! My hands twitched, and I tried to grapple with the side of the table. I could probably pull myself out the way if she got this close. Maybe. Not much, but something.

Flames approached, stepping into my eyeline as red skin became clear. Karlach. She stood in front of me, axe at the ready. "Y'ain't touching her, hear me? That's right you sick bitch. Get away from her!"

Thwack. A strike of the axe, then another, and a final one for good measure. Amazing. But Orin still managed to fling my friend aside, her barbarian bellow of rage ringing out in the hallowed halls of malice. Orin loomed. Her awful form covered in wounds, the eyes crazed, the breath huffing out of her.

The pincer rose. Sharp. Poisoned. Deadly.

Shit, I'd be out like a light with another strike from that thing.

Orin thrust down.

"NO!" Astarion's voice bellowed out, as I managed to haul myself aside.

THUNK.

The pincer struck the stone above, and my body smacked against the stone steps beneath, my spine bent against the steps, belly-side up, pain engulfing me once again, but I was out of the way of the strike. That was something. I tried to roll, to keep moving, but my arm lay under me, and the moment I realised that odd angle, the moment became clear. Yes, definitely broken. I gave a cry and still tried to roll. But of course, not quick enough,

Another pincer.

Another strike.

My exposed belly was no match for it, and she struck right through to the stone beneath.

Screams, bellows, cries of defiance and refusal rang out, and my own whimpered into the blood soaked air. Oh wait. That was just me, my throat filling with blood as the pincer was lodged in place. Be that because she struck the stone too hard, or what, I wasn't sure. But it kept her steady for them. She wa stuck. That's it. This is my chance. I reached with my free hand, grabbed her and held as hard as I could. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. And as she thrashed, trying to free herself from my suddenly vice-like grip, the very last of my strength being poured into this one useful action, I bared my teeth at her.

"Go on… Die."

And her wails her answer enough. The others came over with their weapons, their spells, their skills, and as her struggles weakened, so did my grip. The last few moments of consciousness were fading. Cold. It seeped into my veins. My blood slicked hand fell away from the crisp husk of her form and fell to the cold stonework beneath. SCHLINK. The pincer was ripped free. Blood flowed freely from my belly wound, and I gave a weak flinch as blood brimmed my throat, and I choked as I tried to spit it all out. Orin's screeches continued. She was being assailed by them all at once, no doubt taken down.

Go on guys…

S-Stop… her…

ASTARION POV

Amaya held the beast in place for them, buying a precious few seconds for them all to get another hit or two. It was what let them finally finish the beast off. Orin's death throws bellowed against the stonework. Her form thrashed. Her blood slowed from the wounds, and she faltered, slumping against the stone, left to die in the cold darkness she had so wholly adored. But as the pincer moved, leaving Amaya's body, Astarion noticed she hadn't been holding it anymore. Her hand lay on the stonework, open, limp, bloodied. She wasn't moving.

He ran over, his own wounds aching, his body burning from whatever acid it had been that Orin's husk sprayed on impact, but it didn't matter. Those eyes, Amaya's beautiful eyes, were going dull as she blinked slowly. Each slower than the last. "No, you're not dying here, damn it. Not now! Not after everything. Shit, where are my healing potions…" He searched through his pockets. "Shadowheart! Please!"

Revivify scrolls would work, of course they knew that – but how haunted she had been last time, Astarion doubted a second visit across the veil was a good idea. Not after she had endured all that she had at the hands of Orin already. Amaya's mind might completely break. He could lose her forever…

"Here." Halsin held out a large bottle, its red contents swirling as his arm wavered mid-air. The whole team was spent – but thankfully they had already cleared out the temple otherwise. They were alone for the time being.

Astarion took the bottle and ripped out the cork with his teeth, carefully angling Amaya's head so he could pour the potion between her paled lips. But she wasn't drinking it, not really. A little went in, but it was soon drowned by the blood bubbling up her throat. He shivered and looked to the belly wound – they had managed to use such potions before by smashing them on the ground nearby a hurt ally. Maybe… He poured the potion against the wound and magic pulsed across the air for a moment. The bleeding slowed. It seemed like it had helped a little at least.

"That's it, just breathe. Breathe." He demanded as his eyes itched with panicked tears, her body so limp in his hold, so cold to the touch, like ice. The others were gathering, taking potions themselves, getting themselves out of danger as he counted the seconds for the potion's effects to take fully. She was limp, her body spent in every way possible. So little warmth in her skin. "Amaya… Please."

AMAYA POV

It's so fucking cold. The noise from before had eased, but did that mean my friends had won? Or was everyone lying around me, in various states of dying? I tried to open my eyes, but my strength was gone. I could barely manage to pull the air into my lungs. But I did. Gasp by gasp, I hauled in the air and forced it through my system. If all I can do right now is draw breath, damn it, that's what I'll do.

A hand caressed along my cheek. "She's breathing… She's breathing!" Astarion choked out, sounding so openly relieved it warmed me a little to even hear it.

"A good sign, to be sure." Halsin's chuckle was nearby, but his voice was rough and panting. "We should get moving as soon as we can. Their numbers are spent but that doesn't mean they don't have more on the way. Allow me to check on the others before we move out."

"Right." Astarion agreed, also sounding a little spent. "I'll stay here, keep an eye on her."

"Very well."

"Look at you causing such a fuss," he murmured. "I'll have to give you such a telling off when you wake up. But… That can wait."

I think I managed to smile.

He gasped softly. "Amaya?"

It felt like trying to lift Halsin, but slowly my eyes opened, and the smudgy mess around me gradually cleared. The splash of white nearby had to be his hair. It took a few more seconds, but gradually my vision cleared and took in the sight. His gaze had been searching all over me, his brows pinched in concern, his lips slightly ajar and spackled in blood like the rest of him. But there he was, Astarion, watching over me.

And as he met my eye, he looked so relieved. He stepped closer, bracing his hands either side of my head. "You… You're awake. Thank the gods. Alright… Uh… Just stay still alright? And look, about everything that happened before, we can talk if you're alright with that but… But I need you to know. I don't need you to forgive me." And only then did I notice how hard he was panting, how the blood was soaking through his shirt, his ruby eyes a little glassy. He was hurt, wasn't he? Still, he continued. "My forgiveness isn't the goal here. Your… Y-Your safety is. I just need you to hold on a little longer, alright? You're coming with us, to be free of this awful place. You're…" He swallowed hard and steadied himself. "You're not dying here. You were never even meant to be here, my dear."

My body, heavy with fatigue failed to respond, but I think I managed to drag one corner of my mouth into a smile. Maybe. Did he see it? Shadowheart appeared next, touching his shoulder and mine. The pain eased a little, but the weakness remained. Please tell me I'm not imagining this. That this isn't somehow a trick of Orin's. Please…

A rumbling sounded far off. No one else was reacting to it though. Couldn't they hear it? Like drums or something… Something calling out… Something getting closer…

Shadowheart frowned down at me, my vision paling again. "I'll need to properly prepare healing for these wounds. She's… Well the spells aren't going to be enough this time. Halsin save yours for an emergency when we move her."

Astarion nodded and looked over his shoulder. "Alright, then we make for camp. Do we have time for that?"

"I think so."

Guys seriously, can't you hear those drums? They're getting so much louder. So… Urgent.

You are my Chosen.

"Very well. Now then, whilst I'd love to do the Hero bit and carry her off, I think I'm in need of some healing first. Halsin, I don't suppose I could trouble you to carry the damsel?"

"I would caution you against such a word my friend, but perhaps she is too spent to mind right now." Chuckled the Druid as he approached. And he was right, right now, I couldn't do a damn thing, I'd have to make my opinion of that word known when I could see straight. Or move. Or talk. They didn't seem to hear that voice, so booming, so loud. Is it some trick of Orin's spell? Have I finally gone mad?

Your mortal body requires rest, Chosen, but a choice and bargain must be made. You will obey. In time.

I tried to look towards the Druid as his shadow cast over me, but my head spun with the slightest attempt so I just laid my head back down and scrunched my eyes against the world. The drums continued, but they were fading again. Echoing into the distance. What the hells had they been?

Halsin spoke gently. "May I lift you, Amne? A small tap of your finger for yes, two for no?"

I managed a tap.

He hummed. "Thank you, dear one, now rest. You are safe, I swear it."

And he hauled me up into those big arms and I felt warmth sink into me. Someone adjusted the flimsy scrap of material around me, and another sensation pulsed from my shoulder. Healing. Another small dose. It soothed my aches and pains a little, but was clearly a low power spell. They had used everything to get here, hadn't they? My allies. My friends. No… My family. They had come for me, fought for me, and now would care for me. Damn. I didn't know much about my life, but I knew that I was damned lucky to have them. All of them.

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