Chapter Text
Song awoke next to the crackling remnants of last night’s fire. Though she would likely still sleep in her tent more often than not, it was nice to have the option to huddle up next to the flickering heat and hunker down without worrying that she would doze off and reveal herself to the entire camp. Scratch had fallen asleep curled against her side, and he remained there as the sun began to peek over the horizon, still snoring softly.
Us greeted her with a wordless pulse of contentment between them, nuzzling against her face as she lifted it from her bedroll. Between her horns, wings, and tail, it was truly impossible for her to sleep in any way that didn’t involve sprawling out on her stomach. A lesson that Wyll learned the hard way last night, despite having only one of the three.
“Good morning, soldier!” Karlach greeted with a cheery little wave when she noticed Song stirring. “How ya feeling? Magic settled?”
“I’m feeling much better. Thank you for asking.” Song carefully got to her feet, moving slowly to ensure that Scratch would keep sleeping for as long as he was able to. It was only once she had done so that she realized everyone else had already begun packing up camp. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep in.”
“Psh! Don’t worry about it!” Karlach waved her hand with a dismissive laugh. “Figured you could use the rest after yesterday. Lae’zel mentioned something about going to a swamp today…?”
“That’s the plan! We’ve got a couple of things that we need to look into there, one of which is quite time-sensitive if we can’t find a way past the goblins soon, so I figured we might as well since we’re already in the area. Better than stumbling into another pack of gnolls or a goblin ambush, in any case.”
“Aces! I’ll go let everyone know, then.”
Song packed up her things as Gale coaxed the fire back to life with a spark of magic and began preparing breakfast for them all. Scratch woke up as soon as he smelled meat sizzling in the pot, and though Gale was subtle about it, Song watched him pass a few scraps along to Scratch with a fond smile and fuzzy warmth buzzing in her chest.
As soon as everyone had eaten, excluding Astarion who stealthily slipped his portion to Scratch, they made their way for the swamp, trekking past the goblin village and deeper into the forest itself. Along the way, Shadowheart made a point of walking near her, and it only took a few minutes for her to learn why. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. Something important.”
“What is it?”
“I could have died in that pod, back on the nautiloid. You could have died, spending precious seconds trying to free me while we were trapped in Avernus, but you did it anyway. I owe you my life.” For a moment there, Song almost feared that Shadowheart might be leading into asking for some sort of pact or deal, which she would have to refuse on principle, but she continued with, “I’m trying to say that you’ve earned my trust in a way very few ever have… I want that to mean something. I want you to know more about me, at least from what I remember.”
The others did a very poor job of pretending that they weren’t listening as well, but Shadowheart didn’t seem to mind it all that much. Perhaps their open acceptance of Song had helped her feel more secure within the group as well. “As long as I’ve prayed to Lady Shar, I’ve wished to serve as her Dark Justiciar. There is scarcely a better way to fully dedicate yourself to Lady Shar, save perhaps if you become the head of her church. To become a Dark Justiciar is to become the Nightsinger’s sword arm, her implement with which she will cast down the unbelievers and win the final battle to restore her perfect, endless darkness…”
Shadowheart’s voice was distant and dreamy in a way that vaguely unsettled her, and it took a few seconds for Song to place why it bothered her. That sort of religious fervor… It vaguely reminded her of those cultists from before. “It’s all I ever wanted. I prayed it was my calling. But… Mother forbid me from seeking to prove myself worthy of the rank. She said I was not ready.” Shadowheart paused briefly, seeming a bit more like herself when she clarified, “Not my mother-mother, I should add. The Mother Superior. Head of Lady Shar’s enclave in Baldur’s Gate. Sometimes, I wonder if she would ever deem me ready. I owe her everything, and I only wish to serve, yet she can prove… Inscrutable.”
“Thank you. For sharing with me,” Song murmured with an uneasy flick of her tail. She wasn’t really sure what else to say, but she did appreciate the visible effort it took Shadowheart to open up like that, if nothing else.
They ventured on. Song and Gale both eagerly harvested any alchemical ingredients and edible flora that they found along the path, Astarion discovered a secret cache of goodies hidden beneath a tree, and Scratch barked to alert them to a chest buried beneath the earth, pawing at the soil that was only slightly looser than all the rest. They likely would have walked right past it without his help. “Good boy!” she praised with an affectionate pat, and Scratch’s tail thumped against the dirt in clear contentment.
Of course, because they couldn’t go anywhere without running into some sort of trouble, they ran into a strange scene only a bit further down the road. Two men were harassing Auntie Ethel, and though Song knew that she could handle it on her own, she also understood the importance of maintaining a disguise and playing the role one needed to sell it.
“Lads, for the love of all that is holy, I’ve never clapped eyes on your poor sister.”
“Drop the act, hag. You was the last to see Mayrina.”
“J-Just let her go. Please.”
Song felt more than a little vindicated that her hypothesis about Auntie Ethel was correct. And while hags were notoriously tricky, they operated on deals, the same as devils. Hells, they usually didn’t even go seeking people out to make their deals. People came to them looking for miracles, and all too often, people decided that they didn’t like the price that had to be paid. After getting what they wanted from the hag, of course.
Auntie Ethel seemed quite pleased to see her, even more so when she saw that Song was wearing her true skin. “Thank goodness you’re here, sweetie. I… I don’t know what’s come over these boys.”
The men whirled around, eyes widening when they caught sight of her. “Hells…! The hag’s workin’ with a devil now?” Though they both seemed terrified out of their wits, they still pulled their weapons on them, and Song heaved out a sigh as the battle began.
Scratch lunged forward to bite the more nervous of the two men, the one wielding a cleaver, the second that he stepped toward Song. He sank his teeth into the man’s leg, and though it wouldn’t have usually been a fatal wound, the man struggled to get free, forcing Scratch to dart back after ripping a chunk of flesh from his calf. He’d managed to nick a femoral vein, and the man was down and gone within seconds between the pain, shock, and blood loss.
“Demir! Demir!!
Song didn’t relish killing these men. She couldn’t even say it would bring her any relief. She didn’t know enough about them to know whether this was the right thing to do or not, but they had drawn their weapons on her first. She hurled a ball of fire at the surviving brother, and though that wasn’t enough to kill him, it was never meant to. Us eagerly leapt on their chance for a meal, striking the man down with a burst of psionic energy that left them feeling full and content.
“Oh my stars…” Auntie Ethel murmured as she stared down at the still corpses of the two men. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“What happened? It seemed like a pretty heated argument. Was it… Just because you’re a hag?”
“Wouldn't you know it, sweetie,” Auntie Ethel agreed with a dip of her head. “I’m sure you’re quite familiar with their sort. Still… Those poor boys were only looking for their little sister, Mayrina. She’s been staying with me. This is all my fault, but I made a promise .” And fey did not make promises lightly. They were bound to their word whenever they did, as surely as any devil contract would bind her. “Mayrina begged me not to breathe a word if they came looking for her. And my word is my bond. That poor thing will be distraught… We can’t let her know what happened. It’d break her poor heart.”
And though it didn’t sit well with Song to not inform her, she understood why Auntie Ethel insisted on it. She’d been trying to convince the men to leave well enough alone, to ensure that Mayrina wouldn’t have to worry about whatever had sent her to a hag’s door begging her not to tell her brothers anything, and though Song might have had the chance to de-escalate the situation if she’d been wearing a disguise, she truly doubted that it ever would have ended any other way. “You’re right,” Song murmured with a nod. “We won’t breathe a word of it.”
“Thank you. I’d best get going, but please, stop by my house. I’d like to thank you proper. Help you get that little wriggler out of your head.” Auntie Ethel disappeared in a buzz of wild, fey magic that sang across Song’s skin, fluttering around her like a swarm of butterflies. The magic seemed quite fond of her, really.
“Are you sure we can trust her?” Shadowheart murmured with a sideways glance. “She could have simply done that from the start.”
“And let those men find her home? Find Mayrina after she explicitly promised her that she wouldn’t let them do so? She quite literally could not have. Fey are bound to their word far more tightly than devils are. It’s why they’re so reluctant to ever truly give it. There must be quite some deal involved if Auntie Ethel volunteered to protect Mayrina to achieve it…”
“Just so,” Gale agreed with a nod. “And the fact that she offered to extract our tadpoles is quite promising, indeed. She would not have done so if it wasn’t within her capabilities. Whether we’ll be willing to pay whatever price she has for doing so is another matter entirely, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out, no? If nothing else, should we find ourselves running out of time and faced with inevitable ceremorphosis, she could be our last resort.”
They ventured further into the sunny marsh, but Song’s eyes narrowed as they approached the first patch of shallow water. This place was absolutely infused with magic, and though that wasn’t atypical of a hag’s domain, she didn’t want her or her companions to face any unwelcome surprises along the way. Her magic cautiously reached out to the magic blanketed over this place, prodding in search of its purpose. Fluttering magic reached back to her, brushing against her skin like butterfly kisses as the vision of a sunny, flowering wetland melted away into that of a true swamp. It was dark, filled with dead or dying trees and thorned flora of all sorts, and reeked of death in a way that promised the presence of redcaps within.
“Hell’s great fires…” Wyll muttered with wide eyes. “If the hag is capable of magic such as this… Perhaps she truly will be the solution to our problem.”
Surely enough, they did stumble across a group of redcaps along the way to Auntie Ethel’s house. The typically bloodthirsty fey did not make any move to attack them, though, staring deeply into Song’s eyes and bleating like a sheep. She was positively delighted to echo the sound back to every redcap they crossed paths with.
“Oh, what fun!” Astarion seemed just as amused by this entire thing as she was. “They must take on the forms of sheep in that hag’s delightful little illusion.”
They discovered a waypoint just outside of Auntie Ethel’s house, likely one that was created by the hag herself, and Song hummed happily at the sight of it. If they did manage to find something on Kagha deeper within the swamp, then at least they had a quick path back to that waypoint near the grove.
Once they arrived at Auntie Ethel’s house, they also got to meet Mayrina. Her current condition gave Song a pretty good idea what, exactly, Mayrina had promised her that made it worthwhile for the hag to protect her alongside fulfilling their deal. Or who, rather. “I don’t want a crumb left on that plate, girl.”
“Auntie Ethel, please. One more bite, and this pie is gonna come back up to say hello.”
“Don’t make me get the wooden spoon! You’re eating for two, so get to it!” Auntie Ethel chided with a stern expression. That sternness absolutely melted away when she turned back to greet Song. “Ah, if it isn’t my hero! Come in, come in! Feel free to relax and have yourself a cuppa, hm?” Mayrina shuffled uneasily from her place at the table, but it was at the prospect of eating any more pie, not as a result of Song’s presence here. She seemed remarkably unphased by the presence of a devil, actually. “Gods grant me patience…” Auntie Ethel muttered under her breath. “Eat up, Mayrina! I won’t say it again.”
Song, eager for answers and hoping to give Mayrina a bit of a break in what seemed to be a long-standing argument between her and Auntie Ethel, cut in to ask, “You mentioned that you had a way to get rid of these parasites?”
“Of course! Ah, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached to me. What do you say? Want me to take care of the little bugger?”
“That depends on the price.”
Auntie Ethel chuckled at that, approval shining in her eyes. “Well, that depends on the job. Removing a parasite is no small feat, but I like you, petal. So I’ll only ask for something small… One of your pretty little peepers. I’ll pluck it from your head, kiss it for luck, then back in it goes. Won’t take but a moment. And for someone like you, well… I imagine it won’t hurt nearly as much as you’re used to. That is my price. Nothing more, nothing less.”
As much as Auntie Ethel was only vaguely hinting around it, Song knew what happened to an eye that was blessed by a hag like that. She would become capable of seeing the world through Song’s eye, whenever she chose to look through it, and it was likely that the eye itself would be altered in some noticeable way. Still, it wasn’t a bad deal, either. Certainly worth considering, given their general lack of options. “Will my sight be damaged?”
“A touch, but you’ve two eyes in your skull, don’t you? It won’t affect you overly much, and slightly poorer vision is a far sight better than becoming a mind flayer, is it not?”
She wasn’t wrong there. Song wouldn’t make the decision for any of her companions, nor would she stop helping them search for other options should they refuse, but she wasn’t going to turn this opportunity down. “You have a deal.”
“Glorious. One moment, Auntie needs her real nails for this.” Auntie Ethel’s human disguise melted away, leaving a towering hag in the old woman’s place. She practically radiated power, and Song’s magic instinctively reached out to hers, a surging wildfire and swirling snowstorm meeting the sensation of fluttering butterflies and insects skittering across her skin. “Much better,” Auntie Ethel breathed out with a pleased sigh. “That human skin is fierce restrictive, but you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, petal?” The hag didn’t wait for her to answer, sharp teeth flashing in a grin that would come across as menacing if Song couldn’t tell how genuinely pleased she was. Her magic rather gave her away in that regard, but Song knew that her own did too. “I must say, it was quite the surprise to see you strolling through the forest as you are. I suppose you didn’t want that grove sticking its nose into your business either.”
“Figured they wouldn’t exactly feel inclined to accept my help if they knew,” she agreed with a sheepish chuckle. “Especially with so many refugees from Elturel there. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You’re far more charitable than I am, petal. Doing all that work for free…” Auntie Ethel shook her head, but she looked more amused than disapproving. “But I suppose I’m being rather charitable myself, right now. So… Choose. Which eye will it be? Right or left?”
Song hummed, tail swaying as she thought it over. “Unless you have a preference for which eye you’ll be able to see out of, I’ll go with my left.” It was the eye she could have lost to her father’s rage, if he had been any less calculating with it, after she destroyed that servant's soul to end his suffering all those years ago. For years, she felt like the scars surrounding it marked her as his in a way she could never deny so long as she wore her true skin. The prospect of erasing that claim, of marring her father's victory with one of her own, was far too sweet to pass up on. She’d rather Auntie Ethel have claim to that eye than him.
“Ah, so you do understand the full implications of our little deal. I had wondered, but… I ought’ve known that a devil wouldn’t agree to any sort of deal without understanding the terms.” Auntie Ethel looked her over, studying the scarred side of her face with something like understanding glimmering in her eyes. “I’ve no preference, sweetie. If you want to rid yourself of a claiming like that, then Auntie Ethel is more than happy to help you out. One good turn deserves another and all.”
Song couldn’t say that it was a pleasant sensation, having her eye ripped out by a hag’s claws, but she’d endured suffering far greater than this in Avernus. Considering the reason why she was doing this, this pain was nothing. “There now,” Auntie Ethel murmured as a flash of magic had Song’s eye firmly back within her skull. She could feel the sensation of butterflies dancing upon her skin, now, and she had a feeling that the little taste of Auntie Ethel’s magic would linger with her for the rest of her life. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Honestly?” she muttered with a tired smile. “I barely felt it.”
“No, I’d imagine not.” There was something almost sympathetic in Auntie Ethel’s gaze as she instructed, “Now, unless you want tentacles for a tongue, stay absolutely still. I’ve removed one of these buggers before, but it’s a touch tricky…” Song remained stiff as a stone, sinking within the buzzing of her own magic in a desperate attempt to ignore the way pain built up behind her eye as the parasite was slowly dragged toward her ear. For a moment, it seemed as if it would actually work, but then it bit back, burrowing even deeper into her brain and leaving a throbbing headache in its wake. “Agh…!” Auntie Ethel cried out, sounding just as pained as she was. “Godsdamned, wretched…! You didn’t tell me that it was Netherese, sweetie. I'm not touching that.”
“Netherese…?”
“... You didn’t know.” Auntie Ethel looked a bit less peeved at her now, heaving out a sigh as she muttered, “Filthy shadow magic, brings nothing but chains and misery. How could I have missed that stink? Like blood and piss congealing on my tongue, ugh. I suppose the scent of sulfur distracted me from it… Someone’s tampered with your parasite, petal. That’s likely why you’ve not turned yet.”
That didn’t bode well for any of them. Auntie Ethel had removed one of these parasites before, she wouldn’t be able to lie about that, and if even she couldn’t touch their parasites, then… Song was forced to face the grim realization that it wasn't likely anyone or anything could. Not Halsin, not the githyanki zaith’isk, nothing. They would probably have to figure out how their parasites had been tampered with first, try to undo the magic corrupting them, before they even had a chance of removing them. “Can you tell how it was tampered with, exactly?”
“Not the specifics. All I can tell you is that more than mind flayers touched the little bugger that’s wriggling around in your brain. Unless you can find a way to undo that magic, petal, you’re a dead soul walking. Auntie Ethel’s sorry, truly. Tell ya what…” A clawed hand gently pressed a bone that was infused with the hag’s magic into the palm of her hands. “It’s on you to rid yourselves of that abomination, but if you ever find yourself in a pinch, break that. It’ll make you unstoppable.”
“Thank you, Auntie Ethel,” Song murmured as she carefully tucked the bone away into her pack, wrapping it within her bedroll for extra protection.
“Of course, sweetie. Let it not be said that Auntie Ethel doesn’t honor her debts. Now, and I do hate to say this, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. But… If you ever do manage to get that thing out of your head, feel free to stop by for a cuppa. Auntie Ethel will check in on you every now and again.”
They departed from Auntie Ethel’s home with heavy hearts. “The parasites being tampered with will certainly complicate things,” Song muttered under her breath. “Even Lae’zel’s people might not be able to do anything with this… Shadow magic corrupting them. Have any of you ever heard about Netherese magic?”
“Unfortunately.” Gale sounded exhausted to even utter the word. “Netherese magic is ancient, and to truly explain it, I would need to explain the story of Karsus.” When they all immediately turned their attention to him, Gale explained, “Karsus was perhaps the most powerful wizard that ever lived. The-child-who-would-be-a-god, the elves called him. And he tried. With a spell of his own devising he endeavored to usurp, in one fell swoop, the power of the goddess of magic. Mystryl, she was called then. Imagine what it must have felt like. To be a god. To know yourself to be untouchable… To be mistaken.” Gale’s eyes grew distant for a moment, but it only took a few seconds for him to shake his head and carry on with the story. “As Karsus aimed his spell at her, she began to unravel, and with her, the entire Weave. Too late did he realize what he had unleashed. It would have been the end of everything had not Mystryl sacrificed herself. The goddess of magic is all magic. By dying, the entire Weave was lost, and the spell that challenged a god failed. It was the end of Mystryl, the end of Karsus, and the end of an entire civilization. As the-child-who-would-be-a-god was turned to stone his empire came crashing down around him. The floating cities of Netheril were no more. An event that came to be known as Karsus' Folly. Netherese magic is the very same magic that was unleashed on that day. Surviving remnants are extremely rare, and they are even more powerful. They consume magic. That is quite likely why the hag reacted so poorly to the blasted thing. The parasite attempted to steal from her what they have already stolen from us: our greater strengths. To remove such a thing from our skulls… That would be no small task. No small task at all…”
Song was struck with a sudden realization, in that moment. Gale’s condition, the very same one that forced him to consume the Weave, and his familiarity with Netherese magic painted a rather grim picture. Though she did not speak a word of it, her eyes inevitably trailed over to him, and Gale dipped his head in a shallow nod. She wasn’t going to press him on the specifics, but knowing that Gale had been managing a condition that was caused by Netherese magic for this long without coming across any sort of cure didn’t exactly make her feel hopeful. Gale was a scholar, an even more passionate one than herself, and if he hadn’t managed to find an answer… Perhaps they would get lucky, but she suspected they would need something more akin to a miracle to cure themselves.
Devils weren’t often graced with miracles.
As if even thinking as much was a curse that beckoned trouble forth, the faint scent of iron and something sickly sweet drifted toward them along the breeze. Powdered ironvine. A monster hunter was near, and Song’s heart raced at the thought that they might be here to hurt Auntie Ethel. She immediately led the group toward the smell, though Astarion and Scratch were likely the only others who could smell it at all from this distance, and was relieved that they didn’t question her sudden shift in direction, likely suspecting that she saw something worth looting just off the beaten path.
“Ah, a devil…?” The monster hunter’s eyebrows lifted with surprise at her approach, and he seemed all the more shocked to see her companions trailing behind her. “What business would a creature like you have with a hag…?” The man shook his head with a wry chuckle. “Though I’m in no position to judge. Do pardon the aroma. Powdered ironvine, an old hunter’s trick.”
Astarion stalked forward, wary and with something that screamed of old hurts blazing in his eyes. “You’re a monster hunter? I’m surprised. I thought all gur were vagrant cut-throats.”
“And more! We steal chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… The list goes on.” The monster hunter shook his head with a sigh. “I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer. A wanderer and a monster hunter, but I’m no witchdoctor or cut-throat.”
“I assume you’re here to kill the hag?” There was no mistaking the hostility in Song’s voice, magic buzzing across her skin in a silent threat. “I’d recommend forgetting it, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Not at all,” the monster hunter reassured her while raising his hands in surrender. “My prey is a vampire spawn, much less impressive than the beast that lives here.” Song was already furious to hear the man talking about Auntie Ethel like she was some unfeeling, unthinking creature, but his next words sent rage like molten lava searing through her veins. “His name is Astarion, but I fear he’s gone to ground. I hope the hag of these lands can help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price.”
Astarion’s eyes blew wide with fear. He schooled the expression into distant neutrality quickly enough, but there was no denying the fact that, but for a moment, sheer terror flashed across his face. She didn’t have time to worry about how the rest of their companions were reacting to this discovery, not yet. “And when you find this Astarion?” she demanded with a tone that brooked no arguments. “Will you kill him?”
“Not this time. My orders are to capture him.”
“Oh?” Astarion inquired with all the lethal grace of a displacer beast. “And bring him where, exactly?”
“Baldur’s Gate. My people wait for me there.”
Astarion was apparently a vampire spawn, not a true vampire, and he was from Baldur’s Gate. This so-called monster hunter was willing to make a deal with a hag that he still called a beast simply to find Astarion. Song did not like the odds that he wasn’t sent here by Astarion’s creator, directly or otherwise. It was simply too great a coincidence. “Only a spawn?” she asked with a dismissive click of her tongue. Maybe she’d be able to persuade him away from the hunt, or get him to admit to what he was really up to, if she pushed on the details. “Shame. Not like he’s a real vampire.”
“I don’t know,” Astarion purred with a sharp, wary glance in her direction. “I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip your throat out if he felt like it.”
“He is right, unfortunately. They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage. But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry.”
Since Astarion seemed to misunderstand what she was getting at, Song nodded along as she murmured, “Yes, I’m sure they can creep right up on you… They can be quite the threat, if you’re not careful.”
Understanding lit Astarion’s eyes, then. Wariness melted away into something far sharper and far deadlier. “Indeed. We should do something about this threat.”
Song’s smile was even sharper than Astarion’s, fire blazing at her fingertips as she whispered, “Today’s your unlucky day, monster hunter. Astarion is under my protection.” She lifted her hand, and her magic surged forward, crackling with all the fiery heat of the Hells themselves, as the monster hunter was consumed in a pillar of flames. He did not survive them.
Astarion blinked in wide-eyed shock, hand hovering uselessly over his dagger as he stared at the thoroughly charred remains of the monster hunter’s corpse. “You’ve been holding out on us, darling. What was that?”
“Hellfire,” Wyll muttered with absolute certainty. “I suppose it stands to reason that… More importantly, did you have any intention of ever telling us that you were a vampire, Astarion?”
Her ardent defense of him only a few moments prior did not stop Astarion from immediately throwing her beneath the metaphorical wagon. “In my defense, Song already knew.” When Wyll only quirked an eyebrow and waited for Astarion to keep talking, he stammered, “I’m only a spawn. It's not like I'm amonster, especially not since we’ve wound up with these parasites in our heads. You needn’t worry for your necks. We’re all in this together, are we not?”
“I’m well aware of that. If you intended to attack us in the dead of night, you’ve had plenty of opportunity to do so already. I meant more in regards to ensuring you remain fed. Have you eaten recently?”
Astarion blinked, shocked by Wyll’s complete nonchalance in the matter, before muttering, “I had a hyena yesterday. It was vile, cursed as it was, but… I’ve eaten worse.”
“I also offered him a bit of my blood, but it burns as badly as you’d expect,” Song tacked on with an amused grin. “Good for emergencies and a quick energy boost, but not filling, by any means. Now that you all know, though… Well, it should be easier to give him the opportunity to feed during battles, no? We’d be killing them anyway, so if he happens to drain the occasional bandit or cultist during a fight, then what’s the harm? They’re dead either way.”
“We can help. Help!” Us chimed in with a wave of excitement that filtered not only through Song’s bond with them but the tentative bonds they formed with the entire party. “We have to eat the energy in brains. Brains! We take the minds, the body freezes, and he can take the blood! Blood! Easy!”
“Well!” Astarion cheered with a sharp grin, no longer shying away from exposing his fangs. “Aren’t you a delightfully wretched little creature? I love it. How helpful of you…”
“Happy to help, friend. Friend!”
Wyll looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be disturbed or amused, seeming to settle on a distinct blend of both. “Well… I suppose that's taken care of. Though there is the small matter of learning why monster hunters have been sent after you, Astarion. Is this likely to be a recurring problem? What did you do?”
“Dared to escape, I suppose,” Astarion muttered with a dark look in his eyes. “Only one person would know to send a gur after me... I was a slave to the patriarch of the Szarr family, a vampire lord named Cazador. Perhaps I still am. I was never able to resist his commands. But now, I’ve been conveniently lost. He will never control me again.”
“Damn right, fangs!” Karlach blazed with heat as she beat her hand against her chest. “He won’t ever touch you again. He’d have to get through the rest of us to even try, and we make a pretty damn good team, if I do say so myself.”
“I’ve never hunted a vampire before,” Wyll murmured with a thoughtful hum. “It seems that it’s time I take up the challenge.”
“I… Truly?” Astarion’s eyes were wide with shock that he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried to. “You would help? It doesn’t bother any of you that I’m…?”
“Please,” Shadowheart scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “We’ve already been through this whole song and dance, heh, with Song. None of us care that you’re a vampire. Or a vampire spawn, whatever. We’re all still stuck with these modified tadpoles in our heads.”
“Your diet is the least of my concerns, ra’stil. I am far more troubled by the thought of dark magics altering our tadpoles. I still believe my people to be our best chance at a cure, but it is worrisome, regardless…”
“Though I am never one to doubt the technological prowess of the githyanki, I’d say you’re right to be concerned, Lae’zel.” Gale had a truly foreboding look on his face as he muttered, “If the Netherese magic within these parasites is powerful enough to threaten a hag of Ethel’s caliber, then it is very likely that they could overwhelm a zaith’isk as well. It very well might destroy the machine itself with the psionic backlash, though there’s only one way to be sure…”
“I think we ought to focus on dealing with the goblins, for now.” Song instinctively stood straighter when the others’ attention focused on her. “I’d be willing to bet serious money on the fact that this Absolute character has something to do with why our tadpoles are behaving differently from ordinary ones. With the infected converging on that old temple of Selûne that the goblins have supposedly set up in… If anywhere is gonna have answers for us, or at least some sort of clue as to where we need to go next, it’ll be there, at the center of this weird hivemind of altered parasites. And it’ll give us the chance to save Halsin, while we’re at it, though I still want to see if we can find out what Kagha was getting up to while we're in this swamp…”
The party muttered their agreements all around, some more reluctantly than others, and they ventured deeper into the swamp. The place was a mess of traps and treacherous terrain, but it looked like they might actually be getting somewhere when they stumbled across a waterlogged, rotting dock. There were a few sunken rocks scattered throughout the deeper waters, and though Song was able to fly over them entirely, the rest of her party could still easily follow along behind her. Once they found themselves solid land again, they discovered the giant tree stump that was mentioned in the note to Kagha. Unfortunately, they also found a couple of wood woads and several mud mephits who weren’t happy to see them. It could never just be easy.
Shadowheart hurled a beam of radiant light at an approaching mud mephit, and the creature exploded in a burst of swamp goo when they died. Something to keep in mind for their close-range fighters. Likely thinking the same thing as she was, Shadowheart summoned a glowing greataxe to help cut down the little nuisances. When one of the wood woads rushed them, Song lit them up in a pillar of hellfire that returned the creature to the earth. She then flew forward to eclipse a trio of mud mephits in a swirling, pocket shadows that rendered them temporarily blind, so long as they didn’t manage to find their way out of it. She heard one of the mephits shriek in pain at the biting cold of those shadows, a bit of power borrowed from Cania, as they remained firmly entrenched within them. One of the mud mephits managed to stumble their way out of the shadows and summon another mephit to fight alongside them, but the newborn would up flying straight into the shadows and dying alongside another mud mephit as the frigid cold snuffed out their lives. The rest of the party focused on the surviving wood woad while Song handled the mud mephits. Astarion fired off a shot that barely grazed the creature, but it did distract them for long enough that Shadowheart was able to nail them with a Guiding Bolt. Gale followed her up by hurling three beams of fire at them, and, well… Wood woads really didn’t like fire. The creature went down, and then it was the simple matter of dealing with the surviving mud mephit.
They were nearly downed by the condensed ball of thunder Song chucked at them after dismissing the shadows that no longer aided them, but the mud mephit managed to endure, swooping down to spew mud all over Us and Scratch. Karlach managed to grab the creature as it tried to fly away, and she swung around a few times before she sent them flying in a way they couldn’t recover from. The mud mephit’s body hit a nearby pier, hard, and they exploded into a pile of goop that concluded their battle. “Well, then,” Song muttered as she shook off the mud splatter that wound up on her wings. “Let’s do some digging around, shall we?”
Further inspection revealed not only a chest containing both gold and magical treasure but also a hidden crevice within the stump itself. There, a letter intended for Kagha awaited them, revealing that she intended to give the grove over to the Shadow Druids so that she might stay its First Druid. It was the sort of subtle, scheming power play that reminded her of the Hells, and Song loathed Kagha even more than she already had for that reason alone. Their trip back toward Auntie Ethel’s home was swift, and though they knew better than to get too close to her house, the waypoint outside of it was just far enough away that they could still travel to just outside the grove without overstaying their welcome. Song adorned the disguise of a tiefling once more, though her new eye was visible through even that magic, and once the party was ready, they returned to the grove with the proof of Kagha’s wrongdoings.
Kagha quirked an eyebrow at them as soon as they entered the druids’ inner sanctum. “Why are you here? I sent you to Zevlor.”
“I know the truth,” Song muttered with gritted teeth. “You mean to take the grove for the Shadow Druids.”
“What…?” Kagha’s voice was a mere whisper in the wind, shock and horror alike dancing within her eyes.
Before Song could say another word, the trio of rats that were scuttling around Kagha’s feet turned to regard her with gazes that were too sharp for a real animal. Their bodies were consumed in the glow of magic as they changed shape, revealing three halflings in their place. “Tsk. That damned nose of yours has gone poking into our business.”
“Mistress Olodan! I can explain–”
“Shh, shh,” the Shadow Druid hushed as she glanced back at Kagha. “No need. It couldn’t be helped.”
“Kagha!” Rath cried out with wide eyes. “What is the meaning of this?!”
Olodan turned to Song with the sort of smug, self-satisfied sense of superiority that she loathed. “You think yourself quite the spy, don’t you? Go on, then. Tell him.”
“Here.” Song gave Rath the letter that they found in the swamp with a grim look. “Kagha’s a Shadow Druid, and she means to convert the circle. This letter is proof.”
“What in the… Cloakwood? Kagha, have you lost your mind?!”
“Halsin is weak, Rath. But in the shadows, we are strong. We are safe. There is no other way.”
“You and Halsin welcome untouchables to your midst,” Olodan sneered with a pointed look at both Song and Karlach. “You defile the grove for the sake of harmony.”
“Olodan speaks truth. Who among you disagrees? Who would see this grove in ruin ?”
Song had never been more disappointed in a group of people than she was when the druids remained silent in the face of Kagha’s goading words, as much as it seemed like Rath and that druid they saved down in the tunnels wanted to say something. They still did not, and she grit her teeth in preparation for a nasty fight.
“The choice is made,” Olodan declared when there were no protests. “Kagha, burn the tainted away. Start with that snitch.”
“As you say, Olodan.”
Song’s tail lashed back and forth as she muttered, “You seem intent on forcing me to take your lives. So be it.”
Thankfully, when it came down to an actual fight, Rath, his wolf, and the druid they saved before joined them in fighting against Kagha, the Shadow Druids, and the other members of their circle. Scratch darted forward to snap at Kagha’s ankles before quickly ducking away from a retaliatory blow, joining Rath’s side as he faced off against his fellow druids. Olodan shot Song with an arrow that burned like acid in her veins, but thankfully, poisons didn’t do nearly as much to her as they would to anyone else. Wyll took advantage of Olodan’s shock in the face of Song brushing off the hit to hurl motes of fire at her, leaving her heavily scorched for all that she wasn’t out of the battle just yet. Kagha pushed several party members back with a vicious Thunderwave, but Wyll’s quick reaction time allowed him to hit her with fire too in spite of it. Gale quickly downed a healing potion before hurling rays of fire at both Olodan and Kagha, putting them on the back foot and allowing Astarion the chance to down Olodan with a well-timed arrow. Kagha cried out in despair, and Lae’zel leapt on the weakness, charging forward and nearly killing her with a single swing of her greatsword. It didn’t matter that she didn’t down her the first time; Kagha did not recover quickly enough to dodge the second strike.
Song couldn’t rely on any of her obviously infernal powers here, but Scorching Ray worked nearly as well. Though she wasn’t able to kill the Shadow Druid that she targeted in a single strike, Song did put her down on her knees and made it easy for Us to dart forward and end her with a swipe of their claws. Shadowheart hurled a beam of radiant light at the Shadow Druid that charged Lae’zel afterward, staggering him. He transformed into a bear in a desperate attempt to steady his feet again, but Lae’zel hit him so hard that it destroyed his Wild Shape mere seconds afterward. Karlach charged the Shadow Druid with a scream, and he fell to her greataxe before he could lunge for Lae’zel again. The defecting members of the grove did not let this stop them, though, attacking the druid that their party had saved without any hesitation. The druid conjured vines from the earth to slow them down, and Rath cast Hold Person on one of the defectors before rushing into the fray. Scratch was only a half step behind him, lunging for the man that still had freedom of movement. He didn’t kill him, but he did distract him for long enough that Wyll had the opportunity to hurl a beam of eldritch energy into the man’s chest that finished the job. Astarion shot the remaining traitor with an arrow to the chest, blood flowing quickly down the unmoving druid. It wasn’t quite enough to finish him, but the dagger that Astarion slashed across his throat mere seconds later certainly did the trick.
Once the battle was over, Song walked over to speak with Rath. “To think that Kagha had turned to the ways of the shadow… Her corruption ran so deep. Yet, for her to die like this, under the Treefather’s gaze… Perhaps it is justice. If only justice soothed my heart. A grove drenched in blood is no sanctuary at all.”
Needless to say, they quickly made themselves scarce after that. Song doubted that the druids would decide to turn on them now that all was said and done, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. At least they could go tell Zevlor that the ritual was no more.
They made a quick stop to talk to Dammon, just for long enough to purchase some better gear and confirm that he’d be able to at least try to fix Karlach’s engine if they found some infernal iron, but beyond that, they went straight to Zevlor’s quarters. They were all exhausted from the long day and all the battles it entailed, and Song knew that they’d end up camping just outside of the grove tonight. Unfortunately, that meant making sure that she didn’t drop her disguise outside of the safety of her own tent, but she could deal with that. They’d be back on the road, venturing toward the goblin village, bright and early tomorrow morning anyway.
“Zevlor,” Wyll greeted with a dip of his head and resignation already dancing in his eyes. Song’s heart ached for him. He wanted nothing more than to remain human, and yet, Mizora changed him just enough to forever alter his body without giving him the option of hiding it.
“By Dhelt’s virtue… The Blade of Frontiers? What’s happened, Wyll?”
“I paid the price of angering the wrong devil.”
Zevlor’s face twisted with sympathy. “Believe me, I understand that better than most.” He then turned his attention to Song, eyes widening yet again as he caught sight of the dull, green iris that had replaced one of her own. “It looks like the whole lot of you have been through the Hells… I’m told that the damned druids have stopped their chanting. Do you know what happened?”
“Kagha’s dead.”
“Truly? I’m sorry it had to come to that, but she left us with no choice.” Song was just a tiny bit annoyed that Zevlor acted like he had anything to do with that nasty fight, but she knew that was more a result of her lingering injuries than anything else. She was healing, slowly, but her blood still burned with the residual effects of that nasty poison from before. To say nothing of the way her parasite still writhed with anger at its attempted extraction. “Thank you. We still have the goblins to contend with, but you’ve given us time to prepare. I need to ensure my people make the most of it, but here, left over from my soldiering days.” Zevlor handed her an enchanted pair of gauntlets that sang of healing magic. Song immediately filed those away as Shadowheart’s within her mind. “It’s sparse thanks for what you’ve done for us, but, gods and goblins willing, I won’t need them again. And if you can clear the road of goblins as you said, then I will ensure that a proper reward is gathered for you.”
Camp was set up much more slowly than usual that evening, but the task was completed all the same. Most everyone turned in early for the night, and Song was just about to do the same when she noticed Gale standing just outside of his tent, magic coalesced above his palm in the shape of a woman’s face. She would have simply left him to it if he didn’t seem so… Distraught. It seemed like he might appreciate having someone to talk to.
“She’s beautiful,” Song murmured as she joined him, a gentle, curious grin curling her lips.
“Oh!” Gale startled, magic scattering on the wind as he turned to face her. “My, you startled me… I was miles away.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Of course, of course. I was just… Practicing an incantation.” Gale wasn’t a very good liar. Even now, sorrow swam in his eyes, and Song wanted nothing more than to brighten them. She wanted nothing more than to see that smile that made her heart race again.
“Come on, Gale. You can talk to me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to, but… That person means something to you, doesn’t she?”
“She does. She… She’s Mystra. I can’t quite describe it: the need I sometimes need to see her, to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. No sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she, herself, is and embodies: the Weave.” Gale’s voice, in that moment, reminded her of Shadowheart, when she spoke about Shar. The sheer level of reverence was almost uncomfortable to be faced with, and it certainly made her feel uneasy. Because Song understood what it meant for beings to hold power over those they viewed as lesser. She saw it every damn day back in the Hells. And for all of the hatred humanoids harbored for devils, she did not see how the way gods operated was any different at all. They tempted people with sweet words and offers of power, they used them as long as they remained useful, and the moment they stopped being useful… They end up being tossed aside, if not killed outright. “Mystra is all magic. And as far as I am concerned, she is all creation.”
“That is… Surprisingly narrow-minded of you,” she admitted with an uneasy chuckle. “Mystra certainly embodies magic, that is true, but you know that it goes beyond that. This probably sounds quite ironic for a sorcerer to say, but... There's more to life than magic, as amazing as it is."
“Let me… Let me try to help you understand. Magic is… My life. I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There’s nothing like it. It’s like music, poetry, and physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Is it the same for you?”
“Yes,” Song whispered with a gentle smile, focusing on the strange, split sensation of her own magic. On the one hand, it was a raging wildfire, threatening to consume everything in its path. On the other, it was a frigid glacier, looming and patient while stretching far beyond what the eye could see. The faint fluttering of Auntie Ethel’s magic joined it now, noticeable if she focused on it but otherwise easily forgotten. “That music is chaotic sometimes, the words jumbled, but it is still… I do not deny that magic is important to me as well. It is… It has always been a huge part of who I am. It’s the one thing that could never be taken away from me.”
Gale’s smile gentled, eyes softening as he extended his hand. “Perhaps we could share the experience, reach into the Weave together. I think you will understand what I mean, then. Mystra's presence is more noticeable here, in the magic of this world.” Song accepted his hand with a quick nod. “Then follow my lead.” Gale led her off to the side, ensuring that they would have enough space to work with, before wordlessly making a gesture that had brilliant, purple magic swirling through the air. She had never seen a wizard pull on ambient magic that easily before, not without directing it in a specific way. “Now you.”
Song imitated the gesture with ease, and her magic surged forward to greet Mystra’s, fire and ice alike humming in curiosity. The Weave reached back to her, warm and reassuring like whispered words of trust and the warmth of a lingering hug. “Excellent,” Gale murmured. “Now, repeat after me: Al-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.” The incantation flowed easily off her tongue, like a waterfall that poured from atop a mountain. A faint scent of rosewater hovered in the air, and calm suffused her very being as a sliver of the Weave danced upon her tongue. It was sweet, reminding her of honey cakes and simpler times. "Very good. Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.”
This was far more difficult for her to accomplish. Song’s life has been one of chaos and pain, of desperate struggles and overwhelming fear, and even her time spent in Faerûn was no exception. The constant fear of discovery often soured what might have otherwise been a pleasant memory. But…
Song thought of the people within this camp. She thought of the people who accepted her exactly as she was, for exactly who she was, in spite of poor, personal experiences with her kind. She thought of sleeping with Us and Scratch both curled up against her. She thought of sharing meals with the people around her, laughing and talking, freely and without any sort of hidden agendas, in a way that she’d never been allowed to before.
When she thought of harmony, of coexistence in spite of all the differences, she could only think of them.
A ring of purple magic swirled to life around them, flickering playfully as it spun around. She could sense the presence of Mystra herself, the Lady of Mysteries, and found herself blinking in dumbfounded disbelief that the goddess would pay any attention to a devil like her. It felt as if she had been swaddled within a blanket of peace, and the familiar sensation of a hand grasping hers, gently tugging forward, brought the faintest hint of tears to the corners of her eyes. The magic surrounding her pressed even closer in response. She felt… Safe. Song had never known what it meant to feel safe, not until that very moment.
“You did it,” Gale whispered with no small amount of pride. She did not have to look him in the eye to know what he saw in her expression. “You’re channeling the Weave. How does it feel?”
“Magical.” She giggled at her immediate response, a sensation of bubbly giddiness welling up inside her. “Amazing, truly. Far calmer than anything I’ve ever known. It’s almost… Sensual.”
“I knew you’d understand.” The magic that danced all around her, joyously meeting her own, lingered between the two of them. It connected Song to Gale’s magic too; it let her feel the warmth of the crackling hearth that lingered beneath a great, hungry void that demanded power, that had reduced the fire within his hearth to mere embers of its previous flame.
She wanted to stoke those flames back to life again. Song wanted with an intensity previously unknown to her, too worn out and tired to hope for much of anything at all. But now she did. She wanted to brew potions by Gale’s side, discussing their varied experiences with magic and laughing over their various mishaps over the years. She wanted to share more meals with him by the campfire, laughing and smiling as everyone spoke of the day’s adventures and teased one another. Her smiles were just a bit wider, her laughs a bit louder, whenever Gale was speaking. She wanted to be able to walk alongside him, hand in hand, as they looked to the stars and fought the urge to glance down at something twice as beautiful. They never resisted for long, locking eyes and smiling all the brighter for it.
Song wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to hold her ruined face in the palms of his hands and still think her beautiful. She wanted him to brush a gentle thumb against all her bumps and ridges, chuckling when her tail couldn’t sit still because of it. She wanted to wrap her wings around him and never let go. She just… Wanted him.
Gale’s eyes widened. “I… I didn’t think…” The Weave still connected them, and Song could feel the flickering flames within him flare in embarrassment, waver with trepidation, and then… The embers sparked with elation, and the flames within burned steadily, if only for a moment. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… But it is a pleasant image, to be sure! Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome.”
The Weave jerked back, as if bitten, before fading away entirely. Song already mourned the lack of connection between her and Gale, though she was grateful that he wouldn’t inadvertently see her every thought. Not without the tadpole making a nuisance of itself, anyway. “... There it goes,” Gale murmured with a forlorn sigh. “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how difficult they were in the obtaining.”
Song’s heart felt as if it would leap out of her chest when Gale smiled at her like that, like he had in her idle daydream of them walking beneath the stars hand-in-hand. “Goodnight. I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you… May you have sweet dreams.”
Her dreams that night were very sweet indeed.
