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Chapter Text

The strung together group of adventures sat around a burning campfire. They didn’t yet realise the gravity of their situation, but reality was starting to set in. They had to get this parasite out of their heads. Nervous eyes glanced amongst themselves.

“We can’t just sit here…” Shadowheart solemnly declared, “there must be someone who can help”. The cleric looked up at the moon as it burned a hole in the night sky. How she usually revelled in darkness, much like her goddess. Tonight was different. The air of somber worship was ruined by her racing thoughts. On that nautiloid, she remembered, there was a woman. Their eyes had met momentarily. Shadowheart’s were pleading. This woman’s were like that of a captured animal, feral and wild, almost free. Even in her panic, the woman freed Shadowheart. They stood face to face for a mere moment, before she was gone. Like an apparition, she had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Astarion peered down his nose, seemingly disgusted at Shadowheart’s desperation. He said little, concentrating on the fleeting memory of that person on the ship. She stood in front of him, staring up, her body bundled in robes and splattered with blood. He did not grovel, or beg, yet she freed him regardless. Astarion had climbed from the pod, and they stood face to face. He merely stared at her, sensing some kind of emotion in her eyes. She looked back at him, almost like she was expecting him to speak. He could see it, then, in her face. An all-consuming sadness.

The wizard stood still, the fire casting shadows across his face. “There was someone else on that ship” he spoke with a furrow in his brow. The memory of her was there, just slightly out of reach. Fruit on a tree, ripe for the picking, but a branch too high. “But when I try to remember, it grows all the foggier”. Gale was adept in the art of mind-bending, but this was something unlike anything he had experienced before. This being that had freed him on that ship existed to him as only a cloud. A plume of black fog. “I believe if anyone was to know anything, it would be them”.

“That look in her eyes…” Shadowheart muttered.

“Well, where is our saviour now?” Astarion piped up. He almost scoffed at the cleric and the wizard. Then, he drew his mind back to that ship, and how he reached his hand towards her. Perhaps he wasn’t sure what he wanted to achieve by touching her, but part of him thought she was an illusion. His fingers had only just intertwined with the heavy darkness of her robe, when she had flinched away. She stepped back and raised her hand, and in an instant she had disappeared. “She clearly doesn’t want to be remembered”.

The trio sat in silence for a minute or two, each of them deep in a universal thought. After they had found each other, they fought their way through a crypt. Multiple undead, all guarding a single skeleton. He raised from the tomb in which he lay, and now he lingered in camp. He spoke in riddles, and rarely. “Thy companion is correct.” His voice floated through the camp. “The woman of which you speak is not far from here”. Withers almost ruminated on every word he spoke. It came as a frustration to the less patient of the group. “But getting her to join your cause will not be easy”

“If she’s as desperate as us, what choice will she have?” Astarion asked with a laugh, “how hard could it possibly be?”

Ayfer Eveningstar. That was her name. Presumably. She sat in that room, with the same stone walls she had seen each morning and night since her capture. Through a crack in the wall, she could see it was daytime. It was always daytime. The days dripped by as slow as half-melted wax. Like tar. She had lost count of the days spent there, with no way to tell.

There was something different about this day in particular. It felt like a swell in her stomach. A certain unease. For a moment there, she thought she had escaped. On that nautiloid she either had the sweet release of death, or a crack at freedom. Neither came to fruition, and how she tormented herself for it. Back to these shackles, iron and indestructible, she was bound. How powerless she was without her hands. She wanted to scream, but it would do her no use. Any person that has dared enter the tower had seen Ayfer for one second, wrapped in chains and eyes full of bitter resentment, and decided not to take their chances. Since that thing was implanted in her head, she knew it was only a matter of time before she became something else. Something new. Plus, she had already wailed herself raw when she woke up, after falling from that ship, and found herself back where she started.

There were vague voices from outside the battered wood of the door. A group of people, she could tell, and at the very least three. Eveningstar stayed silent, hoping they would pass by. After all, she couldn’t defend herself without her hands, and it would only wreak the same heartbreak on her when they left all the same.

“We have been walking for hours”, Astarion puffed, “I think this woman is a lost cause.”

Gale and Shadowheart continued on ahead. In a clearing through the trees ahead, they could see the tip of some kind of tower. Clouds clung to each brick, as if to conceal it. They made the air heavy, sickly almost. “A lone tower in the woods, how inviting” Shadowheart smirked.

“This must be the place” Gale remarked, “I reckon we just go straight in there and rescue whatever poor damsel needs our help”. His heart was made of solid gold. Often times, in this realm, kindness would be a mere charade. Hiding something much darker. Gale’s, however, was as genuine as it came.

As they inched nearer to this ominous tower, all signs of life became dull. No birds called, no frogs croaked, and the sky became hauntingly dark. “Dark magic is protecting this tower” said Gale. “Whoever this woman is, she certainly doesn’t want to be rescued”. The wood of the trees contorted and bent to the howl of the wind. Only the creaking of the forest could be heard. “I think we get inside and out of this place as soon as possible”

“There.” Shadowheart pointed to a battered wooden door at the side of the tower. It looked unassuming, and about inviting as doors got in this forest. “A door”

They quickened their pace to avoid the moss that bit their ankles. Something drew them to this door, some sort of feeling. When they got there, however, it was locked. As they stood at the bottom of this tower, a whisper began to break through the trees.

Help.

Help me.

The trio looked amongst each other, uneasy glances, trying to figure out where this voice was coming from. And then, a scream. Wrangled by the shrubbery, but still nerve-shattering. “Perhaps a lock pick would get us through this door” Gale motioned towards Astarion, who stood in revelry.

The door clicked, and into the room they piled. They faced the door now, relieved to be out of whatever spell lingered in that forest. Shadowheart was the first to turn around to face whatever stood in that stone basement. “It’s you…” she trailed off.

Astarion and Gale turned in no more than a beat to be faced with a woman. That woman. The one who freed them all. She sat on her own legs, surrounded by chains and shackles. Pieces of fabric hung limply off her body, torn but impossibly clean. Her wrists were bound together, a dark chain connecting her to the stone wall. Her legs were independently secured. Gale examined her closely, the look of fear in her eyes, the chains around her limbs. That is when he noticed the iron collar around her neck. “Who are you?” He asked. As if looking at her face had somehow unlocked some hidden memories, he could see her in his mind’s eye now. Gale had fell to his knees after jumping from the pod and as he tried to muster up some kind of strength, a hand bent down to meet his view. A gentle hand, pristine and smooth, had reached out for him.

A loose curl fell over her face as she peered down towards her hand. A good question, she thought. When she tried to muster the words, none came out. She could not tell the world who she was, much less these three people in front of her. They looked expectantly at her, shocked by her inability to present herself like she did on the nautiloid.

“You were on that ship too” Shadowheart said. Eveningstar met the cleric’s gaze with her very own. “You freed us all” she continued. There was a slow drip of pity in her stomach, looking upon this captive. “How did you get here?”

Ayfer remembered all of the times that someone would stumble upon her tower in the woods, and how their eyes glistened with opportunity. They could free this woman and become a hero, or kill her just for fun; really they could have done anything. Yet each of them decided to do nothing at all. They watched her sneer with frustration, the unbound look in her eye, and decided that she was not worth it. “I…” she croaked. Her throat burned as she spoke, having not spoken to another soul in months.

“Time really is of the essence here” Gale motioned her to hurry up, “I get a feeling there is some very serious danger in these woods”. He looked upon the hostage himself. There were rivers and streams of long dark hair, curls scattered haphazardly amongst it. The wizard leaned ever-so-slightly closer, and could see the tips of her locks stand on end. Almost, floating. He furrowed his brow at her, inspecting the woman closely. She shied away from his stare, retreating into herself under the weight of his eyes. “You know of the magic in this tower” he muttered, “you are the source of it”.

She unravelled by his word. He was, of course, correct. Eveningstar cleared her throat loudly, “You should not have followed me to these woods”. Her voice was unmistakably clear, much to the trio’s surprise. “You risk your life with each second you stand here”

Astarion scoffed, “Perhaps we should just put the poor thing out of her misery”. He cocked his head at her, watching as his words stoked some dimly light fire. It roared within Eveningstar’s stomach.

“What you do is your prerogative,” she begun. Her legs may have been tired from kneeling, but eventually she mustered herself to her feet. “And you have no reason to trust me.” The bite in the back of her throat told her that this was her shot. All of a sudden, she was overcome by a trite desperation. “But if you free me from this tower, I will owe you my life”. The woman took a step towards them, holding her hands out. “Please”.

“Anyone can see that this is a trap” Astarion sneered at her.

The beating came at the door. The wind of her captors. They were here. “I have been in this tower half of my life, do you truly think I care so much about what happens to me that I would entrap you all?” She spat. There was a rasp in her voice. This was the most she had spoken in years. Perhaps, since she got here.

“If you care so little,” Shadowheart began, “then why would we free you?”

“Because without me, you will not make it back out of these woods alive.”

Gale took a step towards her, making her jump back in hesitation. He pulled the chain and watched as she followed its metallic lead. Something grew in his brain. Not the tadpole, but a different swelling. He knew that they did not have much time. He began to move his arms, sparks of blue shooting from his robe.

“What in the hells are you doing?!” Astarion shouted over the sound of pure magic.

Gale continued with his spell, carefully carving out the shapes to free her from her binds. “She freed us from that ship. We would not be alive if it was not for her. We cannot leave her here to rot”. A burst of magic turned the locks in each of the chains.

Ayfer stood, letting this wizard inflict his magic on to her. How wonderful it felt, to have this energy again. And then, decades overdue, the shackles fell to the ground in a heavy thump. They cracked the rotten wooden floors of the tower basement. She glared so deep into his eyes that she swore his soul was right there in the surface. Years of damnation were gone, in one singular spell. A lump began to form in her throat, of fear or relief she could not tell.

Eveningstar felt the ruin that was on its way to them. It hurled through the woods in screams and shouts. Many a man have wandered through these woods, slowly going insane, never to be free themselves.

“What now?” Asked Shadowheart.

“We run”

Chapter Text

Eveningstar burst from the door, pushing past the trio with such violence that they each stumbled to one side. Tears prickled at her eyes almost instantly. The evening sun blinded her, its hard shadows cracking into her marble skin. Even the absence of the wind stuck her eyelids down. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe we should follow her” Gale watched her flee. Each long stride was filled with a desperation he couldn’t quite place. Torn pieces of fabric fluttered behind her, not from the breeze but from the weight of her body propelling itself towards safety. How the soles of her bare feet must have ached, and how little she seemed to care. Every stone that dug into her skin was of such little consequence. 

A rock tumbled from the roof of the towers basement, striking Astarion in the shoulder. He seemed perplexed that, whatever this place was, it had stood for decades. But now, as its hostage rid herself of its walls, it began to fall apart. Perhaps a sign, he thought, but that was for the magical minded of the group to figure out. For now, his priority lay solely with making it out of the forest alive. And so he began to chase after the woman, hearing the rocks turn to bricks, and the ceiling following soon after. 

None of the group could figure out what they ran from. The trees creaked with a strange magic, dark and beautiful, but dangerous all the same. The whimpers of damned, and screams of the pleading. It threatened to drive them insane. 

Shadowheart slowed for only a moment to glance behind her. The tower that they had stood in only moments before was now nothing more than a pile of rubble. It had collapsed in on itself and, much to Shadowheart’s horror, before it stood a being. She saw not their face, or their clothing, but an imposition that she could not explain. 

“You have not yet repented, child” a voice boomed throughout the entirety of the woodland. From where it came, no one knew. The trees began to bend inwards. The bark flaked from them like cracked skin. “Your attempts at escape are futile”. They were stopped in their path. Nowhere to run but through, and that wasn’t a possibility. 

Ayfer turned on her heels, a full spin in an attempt to find who it was that taunted her from the shadows. “Whether I die or escape, I will not spend another day shackled in that tower like a dog!” Her voice warbled, fists clenched so tightly that blood prickled at the surface of her skin. “You cowards can’t even face me! Are you afraid?!” 

As if tempting fate, in front of the group appeared a foggy cloud of smoke. “You know not for what you wish. You know not of the curse you possess”. The trees continued to bend inwards, a cage of wood and foliage that threatened to draw the life from them. 

Ayfer bound towards them, reaching a hand out towards the apparition. She bared her teeth in fury. “The only curse I have is the one you inflicted on me!” She cried. Her hand connected with the plume, and in an absolute instant an explosion of energy shook the forest. Colours, in a flurry, surrounded the wanderers. The trio shielded their eyes, feeling the rush of leaves and heat hit their face. Astarion turned his back to Ayfer, whilst Gale reached for Shadowheart in attempt to pull her from the direct blow. “I’m afraid the curse ends here.” She continued, “With you or I, I care very little” 

Gale turned to Ayfer, concerned for his newfound curiosity. From the mist had appeared an elf, their cover now blown. He was noble, regal almost, but his crooked smile so twisted it was sickening to look at. His hand was extended in front of him, interlinked with Ayfer’s. His eyes widened at the sight of her. She stood with her neck bent upwards to meet his gaze. Where her hair had previously fallen down her back boundlessly, it now stood on end around her. A haze of energy surrounded her pale skin. The whispers in the forest were shouts now. They were tormented souls, Gale was sure of it.

Ayfer pushed herself away from the elf with a burst of stamina. As she stepped back, she threw up her hands. A bolt of black shot from her palms, distracting her presumed captor for only a moment. A moment long enough that they could make their escape. 

“We don’t get to fight this bastard?” Astarion asked, all whilst turning on his heels. “How disappointing…” 

She led the group towards the wall of forest before them. Gale and Shadowheart glanced at each other, unsure of how they would possibly see the other side of it. All it took was a motion of her arms, and the trees began to unbend. The magic was palpable. Pulsing, almost. 

They ran for what felt like an eternity, through nothing but grass, and mud, and trees. A tunnel of earth. And then, as if by an incantation, they were free. The sun split the skies and when they looked behind them the forest was a mile away. “We are not free, but they have less of a grip on us from outside the forest” Ayfer proclaimed, her back still to the group. It was only in this newfound sunlight, that they could see her stature entirely. “We must keep going if we are to live”. 

“Perhaps we should just slow down a moment and figure out what on earth is going on” Gale said. He couldn’t help his eyes being drawn towards her bare legs. They were tarnished with mud and pale from years indoors. She stepped closer to him, still harbouring that same chaotic energy as before. The former captive was smaller than he was in stature, but her nose bent up to meet his gaze. Her hair fell off of her shoulder, which is when he saw the scars. 3 inches wide, and wrapped around like a necklace. Gale’s stomach lurched as he tried to divert his eyes from the freshness of them. “I think it best…” he stuttered, awkwardly, “if we all speak at camp”. He noticed now that her hair did not stand on end as it once did in the tower. 

“Your camp…” she looked the wizard up and down hesitantly, “is it safe?” 

“Safe?” Astarion chuckled, “Don’t be naive. We are in the land of brutes and heathens. You’d fare a lot better if you sleep with one eye open.” 

“I think what Astarion means to say is that the camp is completely safe…” Gale said, glancing away momentarily “given the rather dire circumstances”. 

Ayfer agreed reluctantly. They arrived in camp by nightfall, and suddenly the air grew awkward. 

“You should make yourself at home, you know” Shadowheart said as she retreated to her own tent. Eveningstar gazed upon the purple and black excuse for a home. It was decorated with candles and other religious paraphernalia. She was a woman so solely dedicated to her cause, that it almost made Ayfer nauseated. “Or at least try to, anyway”

Home. 

Such a flippant turn of phrase. Ayfer couldn’t remember her home, her parents, or anything about her life before. It was stripped away from her the day her new life began. She looked past the cleric uncomfortably. 

“Sorry, how insensitive of me” she corrected herself, sensing the woman’s hesitance. Shadowheart examined the woman. There was something about her that she couldn’t quite figure out. In their silence, she homed in on her presence. It was as if she pulsated with a potent energy. 

The campfire rippled from the centre of camp. As Ayfer sat down, she let out a sigh. Of relief or pensiveness, she wasn’t quite sure. She let the warmth burn her skin, prickling at each hair follicle. How many years it had been since she had felt the comfort of heat. Tears stung her eyes, an emotion she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before overcame her. A mix between uncertainty, fear, and ecstasy. She folded a knee up to meet her bottom lip, resting her chin on the tough bone. How almighty it felt to have autonomy of her limbs, how foreign. 

From the corner of her eye came the man that set her free. Perhaps she should jump to her feet and embrace him, kiss the ground he walks on. “I’m afraid I’ve come to ruin your melancholy for tonight” he spoke down at her, physically. There was a beat before he sat down, as if waiting for some kind of invitation. He took his place right beside her, their shoulders touching ever-so-gently. They existed beside each other for a moment.

The formality frustrated Ayfer. “Out with it, wizard. I owe you the answer to whatever questions you have for me” she glanced over her shoulder. He was shocked by her outrightness. 

“Very well…” he trailed off, “Who are you? What are you?” For all he freed her, she still made him nervous. Not for what she might do, but for what they didn’t know about her. 

Ayfer glanced into the fire as it danced in front of her. “I know only of what they told me. And they told me very little.” She chuckled. “I’m from Baldurs Gate, I think. Going off of my features, I believe I am a half elf. And, if the lack of carves in my face are true, I was thrust into this realm no more than 30 reckonings ago.” 

“I would say all things considered that your circumstances could be a lot worse.” He remained optimistic in the face of Ayfer’s misery. This remark wasn’t received as well by his peer, who shot a glare in his direction. 

“I have seen nothing but stone walls every single day since as long as I can remember.” She finally turned to look at the wizard, “they fed me gruel, rationed my water. They kept me chained to a wall for so long that I have scars.” Her tone was filled with resentment. Gale couldn’t tell if this was directed towards him, or towards the elf they encountered in the forest. “And that was the best of it”, Ayfer paused as if deep in thought. Her gaze softened, a look of surprise in her face. “I’m sorry, I should be grateful. You quite literally saved my life”. 

Gale put a friendly hand on her back. “No one in all the realms should be subject to such treatment.” It took Ayfer off guard, his touch, for it had been decades since she last felt the warmth of another’s skin. “Much less a disciple of The Simbul” he smirked. “Not to worry, I don’t pass judgment on my fellow spellcasters. But my scholarly side can’t help but be curious about your devotion.”

Ayfer had been found out. The only thing she knew about herself, Gale now knew too. Her shoulders tensed, a sudden protectiveness overcoming her. “I was chosen as a child to be the Witch Queen’s protege.” Eveningstar got to her feet and faced her smooth palms towards the fire in an attempt to heat them up. The sky grew dark now, and soon the stars would be out. “She trained me, taught me all she knew. When I showed too much promise, she cursed me. It was her betrayal that led me to that tower.” 

“Your parents willingly gave you away to a witch?” Shadowheart piped in from behind them. She stood with her arms folded, an eyebrow cocked. 

Ayfer didn’t know. It was as if that part of her memory had been locked away behind a cloud of fog. Each time she tried to reach out towards it, it dissipated. “I don’t remember my parents.” 

“Well that makes two of us, I suppose” 

A disciple of Tasha. That’s all Ayfer was to her campmates now. Tasha, The Witch Queen. An archmage of many names, but known ferociously throughout each realm. 

After a while, the conversation drew itself off of her. And that is when she took her leave. The campsite was surrounded by shrubbery, and painfully out in the open. Every campmate had their own tent, adorned with sentimental decorations. As she walked past the pale rogue, who stood underneath a fitting ray of moonlight, Ayfer couldn’t help but notice the finery of his belongings. It was clean, elegant, lavish. The rogue’s eyes watched her from behind his book. “Here was me thinking that a disciple of Shar was bad enough” he sneered, “a disciple of Tasha…”. Astarion snapped closed his book, looking down his nose at his new campmate. “How mischievous”

“I’m no disciple of hers” Eveningstar guffawed. 

“Well, our wizardly friend seemed to think otherwise” He took a step towards Ayfer. Perhaps in an attempt to intimidate her, she stood her ground but grew nervous nonetheless. “Tell me, how does an archmage like yourself end up chained to a wall in some dingy dungeon?” There was an air surrounding Astarion that he was very much aware of. He played on his charm, revelling in watching it make people squirm. “I thought your kind were meant to be powerful”. Ayfer watched as his eyes slowly cast themselves across her face. 

“I could be Mystra herself, but with my hands bound, I am of little use” 

Astarion smirked. He taunted her, she could tell. Ayfer had grown suspicious of slyness after so many years without it. Perhaps he underestimated her, what her mentor groomed her to be. His arrogance was abrasive, but a deflection. “Tell me, was Tasha really a hideous brute?”

“I don’t remember what she looked like” said Ayfer. 

“Pity,” Astarion frowned, “I always wondered if the rumours were true.”

Ayfer retreated to a bed roll, away from the idle chatter. It was uncomfortable, laying on the ground. But, nonetheless, it was a step up for her. She had graduated from the cold stone of her room. Often times, she would wake with aching hips and patches of skin so worn they were bloody and cracked. The air was colder out in the wilderness, pricking at the bareness of her skin. 

She couldn’t quite believe her luck. A night decades coming. And yet, in her freedom, she still felt apprehension. After all, there was still a parasite in her head threatening to turn her into a beast at any given moment. The moon bore down upon her, burning itself into her eyes. It was painfully unwavering, to think that it existed outside the confines of her cage for all of this time. Ayfer’s eyes stung with tears. Eveningstar couldn’t sleep for all the thought of possibilities, and so she watched carefully for movement amongst the camp. When it was clear that everyone had retreated to their beds for the night, she carefully climbed to her feet. Still a strange feeling, like a newborn foal. 

At the bow of camp was the beach of a pond. Water rippled gently, lapping towards her bare feet. The sand was like little shards of glass, a slight pain but grounding. How she could fall into this pond and ruminate amongst the reeds. Instead, she crouched low and peered into the distorted mirror below. It struck her then, that she didn’t truly know what she looked like. Her hands could feel the landscape of bones and cartilage, but not even the sharpest mind could conjure up a face from so little. There would have been a moment in time where she knew herself, as a child. But those memories were long gone. Time had aged her, but her skin was free from the grasp of the sun. There were circles beneath her eyes from many a night of unrest, purple hues upon her milky complexion. She could see now, the sharpness across the bridge of her nose that she had felt underneath her fingertips, the fullness of her lips. Even the ridges of her teeth. Eveningstar peered at the tattered fabric that hung limply from her pale sinew. It was dirty after the days events. 

She dipped her fingers into the cool water, letting it shock her. Gladly. Ayfer stood, and for a moment considered going back to bed. But she was not yet satisfied. It was her first night of freedom, why shouldn’t she go for a swim? Her feet went first, tensing instantly. Ayfer sucked in the night air sharply, holding it and stepping even further in. The cloth that fell from her legs floated atop the water for a mere moment, before being dragged under as she began to venture deeper. At waist level, she stopped for a moment. In a burst of stifled laughter, she expelled the breath she had been holding. Her hand went to her mouth, covering it tightly as to not wake the others. The sides of her eyes crinkled with subtle glee, and in a final stride the water tickled her chin. Underneath the water, she held herself, another foreign feeling. Her hair stuck to her face, dripping salt water into her month. Every bone and joint in her body ached, gnawed by cold and tension. As she shivered, Ayfer sunk beneath the water. Her eyes opened. The water wasn’t clear, but she could see the stars reflect on the surface. Bubbles fell from her parted lips, and for a moment the stillness was all she could focus on. As her lungs emptied, she pushed herself back up to the surface. Her mind seemed renewed, focused almost. 

She slowly made her way towards shore, moving each leg gently. Above the beach was a small grass verge that led to the remainder the campsite. On the verge stood Astarion, the rogue she had tense words with earlier on in the evening. He lingered, peering out into the pond where Ayfer now froze. She gasped, feeling suddenly exposed. They shared no words, merely a look. 

Astarion watched the water drip from her cloth to her feet. Each thread of fabric grasped on to Ayfer. Even from here, he could see the scar around her neck. Her neck. He scowled and turned on his heels. To shout on him would wake the rest of camp, and so she let him leave. He sauntered away, pretending he hadn’t seen the way the moonlight relished her body.

Ayfer wondered where he could be venturing to at this time of night. What dark corners of these environs would welcome him with open arms? Who in these lands would not rip him limb from limb at the sight of his fair skin and tousled hair?