Chapter Text
Tav stumbled towards the distant woods, reeling. She was no longer in pain, but it felt as though every ounce of energy had been sapped from her body.
That, and her mind was still at odds with her phantom encounter. It had seemed real enough that, had she wanted to, she could have reached up and traced the contours of his perfect face.
Tav scoffed into the silence, disgusted with herself. She had a job to do, and she’d come far too close to failing it.
Hastening her pace, she found that the entrance to the forest was closer than it had initially appeared. Despite its name—the Wood of Sharp Teeth—the grove of trees looked deeply inviting in the twilight, blinking fireflies flitting in and out between the tree trunks. Her mind conjured up a soft patch of earth on which to lay her bedroll, the shade of a towering oak to block out the light from the moon. As she imagined drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, an avian screech sounded above her.
A white-tailed eagle was circling the forest, making large, frantic loops just above the treetops. Upon spotting her, the eagle hurtled into a dive, landing just a foot away from where Tav was standing and, on impact, morphing into a woman.
Elyon’s freckled face was slick with sweat, but her expression was one of relief.
“Oh, thank the gods,” she gasped, plucking a stray feather from her mouth. “Come on, we’re camped at the eastern edge. Celeste is beside herself.”
Tav thought she might have detected a hint of discomfort in Elyon’s small voice at Celeste’s name, but she shrugged it off, following her through the thick of trees. The druid was clearly in her element, navigating the labyrinthine forest path with ease.
“Tav!” A tall woman came hurtling towards her, pulling her into a desperate hug. Tav was relieved to see that Scratch, who had likely picked up their scent and followed them into the forest, was trailing behind her, tail wagging furiously.
“Oh my gods, oh my gods,” Celeste pulled away, scouring her up and down, searching for wounds. “You’re alright. You’re not dead. You’re—how—” she paused in confusion, glancing at where Tav’s leg had once been coated with blood and poison.
“It’s a long story,” Tav replied, “But, well—I healed myself, I suppose. I used my magic.”
“Your magic is back?” Celeste looked delighted, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Not—exactly,” Tav replied, knowing she couldn’t possibly explain what had transpired. “I can’t feel it now, but it was there, like some sort of fight-or-flight response.”
“Oh,” Celeste’s face fell slightly, but she continued. “But you’re alright? Truly?”
“Truly,” Tav replied, sinking to the ground in exhaustion. “I’m just tired.” Scratch lay down beside her, huffing in camaraderie.
“Good,” Celeste replied, pausing a moment. “Then I can ask you what in the hells you were thinking?”
Tav stared, taken aback.
“You could have gotten yourself killed! You knew we were no match for that Yochlol, but you were too, I don’t know, stubborn to admit it. Don’t ever—” Celeste took a deep breath, “do that again.”
Tav blinked.
“Wow, Celeste, I didn’t realize we were that close,” she joked. Her friend slapped her lightly on the arm but returned the smile.
“Listen, you’re one of the few friends I’ve made since Morlin, since…everything. I am not about to let you die on me.” Tav felt a surge of emotion that she quickly forced back down.
“I hate to interrupt this moment,” Elyon said quietly from beside them, “but I don’t think we have what we need to keep ourselves alive for much longer.” She gestured to their pile of paltry belongings—two bedrolls, a burlap sack containing two apples and a single egg, two daggers, one longsword, and the women’s packs. Celeste’s contained a folded cloak, the Satumor potion, and the healing potion Tav had given her. Tav’s held Raphael’s map, Celeste’s matchbook, one of Scratch’s balls, a single burnished gold ring, and the stolen book.
“You’re right,” Tav replied, realizing all at once that she was exhausted and starving in equal measure. “We’re going to need more food.” She looked at Celeste. “And more supplies, if we intend to continue adventuring together.”
“Of course we’re going to continue adventuring,” Celeste retorted. “Food’s not an issue for me,” she shot a challenging look at Elyon as she said this, “but surely you two can find something to eat in the forest?”
Elyon shook her head. “I know these woods,” she replied, “and there’s precious little to eat here. Most of the mushrooms are poisonous, and it was overhunted by rangers from Elturel for so long that most of its inhabitants are endangered, if not extinct.” Tav could tell that this fact filled Elyon with sadness.
“Well, then what do you propose we do, druid?” Celeste asked coolly.
“Look,” Elyon began, faltering. “I want you to know—I have no problem with vampire spawn.”
“Oh, well, I’m so grateful that you don’t have a problem with me,” Celeste snorted derisively. “How long were you in that cleric’s manor, anyway? Months? Years? You know that Fog you noticed rolling in, the one that killed all of your precious plants?”
Elyon blinked but said nothing.
“Well, that Fog was for me. For my kind, so that we could have a place to call our own. And the druids did everything in their power to keep it from us, for the good of the land. Something tells me you wouldn’t have been any different.” Celeste glared.
It took Elyon a while to speak.
“You know, a few years ago, I might not have been,” she admitted finally, “but something about being imprisoned in a house full of garbage with a deranged cleric changes a person.” She smiled faintly. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be turned. You deserve not to feel trapped in your own body, and you deserve a place to call your own. A place you feel safe.” She finished, her hands falling limply to her sides.
“It’s going to take more than a pretty speech for me to believe you,” Celeste quipped, but her demeanor towards Elyon visibly softened.
The women were silent for a moment, contemplating their next move as the cicadas hummed.
“I know where we can go,” Celeste announced after a while, loudly enough that Scratch’s ears perked up. “They’ll have food, and supplies. But the two of you,” she eyed Tav and Elyon appraisingly, “are going to have to act…well…normal.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tav protested, but Celeste shook her head.
“I’ll tell you when we get there. It’s not far from here, just up north. Do you think you can make it?” she asked, noting Tav’s palpable exhaustion.
“If it’s close,” Tav groaned as she got to her feet, “and there’s a hot meal waiting for me.” They packed up their camp, such as it was, and let Celeste lead them into the darkening night. Tav unearthed the book Elyon had carefully stowed back in her pack as they walked, scrutinizing its pages.
“I studied languages, you know,” Elyon piped up from beside her, eyeing the leatherbound volume with interest. “I could help you translate that—if you wanted.”
“You can read Infernal?” Celeste asked, incredulous.
“I’m full of surprises.” Elyon replied brightly, reaching out to run a finger over the book’s cover. “See, this is Infernal for ‘book’, and this is ‘to have,’ no, ‘to belong.’” She murmured to herself, untangling the symbols. “’The Book of Belonging?’ Does that mean anything to you?”
Tav shook her head. “No, but it’s more than I could have figured out on my own.”
“Well, if you tell me what you’re looking for, I’m happy to try to find it,” Elyon said, seeming eager to make herself useful.
“That would be wonderful,” Tav smiled, quietly grateful that she wouldn’t have to beg Raphael for a translation. “Let’s take a look when we’re finally off our feet.” She slid the book carefully back into her pack.
“So what is it?” Elyon asked, a few moments later.
“What is what?”
“What you’re looking for?”
“Oh—well—I’m trying to find the Wand of Orcus.” Tav paused, apprehensive, wondering if the name would elicit a similar reaction from her companions as it had from Fenris, but neither woman seemed to react much at all.
“Got it,” Elyon replied, smiling. “I’ll remember that.”
Emerging from the northernmost edge of the woods, the women came face to face with a stone fortress, miles long and wide, its battlements rising at least three times as high as the trees that surrounded it. Its sheer size was enough to incapacitate Tav for a moment as she stared, marveling at this incredible feat of engineering and impenetrability.
She was pondering how much Gavin and Nathiri would have loved this place when it dawned on her where they were.
“This—” she turned to Celeste, eyes wide, “this is Fort Morninglord, isn’t it?”
Celeste nodded, watching her closely.
“But—” Tav’s exhausted mind struggled to piece together what she knew of the legendary fortress. “But there’s supposed to be a massive legion of paladins guarding this place.” It had been considered an honor, among those in Thalindra’s service, to serve a rotation at Fort Morninglord alongside Elturel’s Order of the Companion.
“Lets…cover that once we’re inside,” Celeste replied warily.
“Inside?” Tav turned to her friend, horrified. “Celeste, this fortress might be the most cursed place in all the realms. Don’t you know what happened here?”
“I do,” said Celeste slowly, “both in the past and within the last year. I need you to trust me. It’s safe to go inside. I’ve done so many, many times.”
Tav’s eyes were traversing the fortress, the deep, scorched black of its stones.
The tale of Fort Morninglord had been a favorite among the Paladins of Vengeance, often shouted over tankards of hard-earned ale or whispered over crackling fires during midnight stakeouts. The kind of story that would have even the most fearsome of soldiers quaking in his boots.
Decades ago, after Elturel’s triumphant return from Avernus, tragedy had befallen the fort. Without a hint of warning, the thousands of paladins that were stationed there had simply vanished, swallowed up in a sea of darkness that blackened the fortress’ walls and sealed its doors and windows.
The remaining Companions—the paladins of mixed faith sworn to protect the city of Elturel—were swift to secure the fort, bricking up the entrance and establishing a permanent guard to ensure that no one ever ventured in—or out—of the fort again. Morninglord was widely considered among the most dangerous places in Faerun, and yet…
And yet here it was, conspicuously unguarded, the blockades chiseled away.
And here was her new friend, telling her that not only was this place not cursed beyond repair, but that she herself had been inside it.
Tav’s head ached with the weight of the cognitive dissonance. She couldn’t go in. She wouldn’t go in.
“We’re going in,” Celeste said, and Elyon nodded to Tav apologetically.
“I trust her,” she said, “and you and I need something to eat.” Scratch’s tail twitched in agreement.
Her entire body quaking in protest, Tav found herself following her companions across the compound and directly up to the fortress’ main gate, where Celeste pressed a crimson eye to a crack in the stone.
The stone gate rumbled in response, then sunk into the earth before them, revealing not the source of a decades-old curse, but a vast, manicured courtyard.
What lay at its center nearly brought Tav to her knees in surprise.
A pair of stone statues were the focal points of the rambling grounds, illuminated in the night by a semicircle of iron lanterns. The first was clearly the older of the two, the stone weatherbeaten and worn by age. It had been destroyed—violently, it would appear, as an array of chisels and hammers lay discarded beside it. Tav was sure the statue had once depicted a man, but now all that remained was a crumbling torso, a sea of rubble decorating the ground before it.
But the other. The other was newer, carved of an alabaster so pure that it glowed in the light of the lanterns and the moon, throwing its subject’s features into sharp relief.
It was Astarion. A near-perfect likeness, capturing the faint smirk of his lips, the arch of his brow, the ineffable pride and haughtiness in his stance.
“This way.” Tav barely heard Celeste as she ushered them across the courtyard, toward the statues and the massive wooden structure behind them. Grasping for her bearings, Tav noted that they were not the only ones milling about the lawn. There were nearly two dozen others, most of them vampire spawn, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight. One, sporting a magnificently tousled head of hair, raised what looked like a steaming mug of coffee to Celeste in greeting.
“It’s a nocturnal group,” Celeste whispered, offering the man a wave, “you know—the sun.”
As they neared the entrance to the wooden structure, which resembled a repurposed farmhouse, Celeste paused before the statue of Astarion and sunk into a low bow. Tav and Elyon stared.
“It’s a sign of respect,” Celeste snapped, her tone a challenge. “You’d be right to assume I bow to no one who doesn’t deserve it,” she locked eyes with Tav, “but Lord Ancunin saved my people. He’s freed thousands of spawn from the tyranny of their masters, given us the Fogged Lands, and well—given us Fort Morninglord.”
Indeed, other passing spawn seemed to be doing the same, pausing as they went about their business to kneel before the Lord Ascendent. Tav’s stomach curdled.
A single guard stood watch at the farmhouse’s doors, and he gave Celeste a nod as they approached.
“Two guests today, Aldric,” Celeste said, returning his nod and gesturing to where Elyon and Tav stood hesitantly behind her. The guard eyed them appraisingly.
“Friends of our kind are always welcome, provided they don’t cause any trouble.” With that, he extended an arm and pushed open the heavy wooden door, ushering them inside.
It was unlike anything Tav had ever seen; an indoor city, brimming with life. A gaggle of children scurried past her as she entered, laughing, each and every one sporting the characteristic pallor and bloodred eyes of a vampire spawn. To her left sprawled an enormous indoor market, bleary-eyed merchants setting up their stalls, spreading out their wares for the night’s shoppers.
From a door to her right wafted a myriad of appetizing smells, floral tea and bitter hops and something tangy and metallic that Tav chose to ignore.
“So,” Celeste said, gesturing down the hall. “Dormitories are down that way, but let’s get you both some food first—maybe a drink or two, for good measure?” She glanced at Tav, whose mouth watered at the thought.
“Celeste,” she said, awestruck, “what is this place?”
“One of my kind's best kept secrets,” she grinned, a gleam in her eyes.
They followed the aroma of coffee and beer into a massive tavern hall, rows of wooden tables packed with spawn making raucous conversation. “Wait here,” Celeste said as they found empty seats in a far corner of the room, and she flounced up to the bartender, appearing moments later holding three frosted tankards. Two were clear, full to the brim with a honeyed amber ale. She distributed these to Elyon and Tav, keeping an opaque metal tankard for herself.
“What’s in it?” Tav asked, knowing the answer.
“It’s not human,” Celeste replied quickly, “and I don’t need it—but gods, is it a treat.” She took an enormous swig and sighed with contentment. “The cook will have some food out for you shortly.”
They ate and drank for a while, too tired to do much but watch the scene unfolding before them. After two full tankards of beer Elyon became positively giddy, shifting in and out of the form of a tawny housecat to the delight of a nearby cadre of children (and Scratch's deep chagrin), finally collapsing face-first onto the table before her, snoring gently.
“Bedtime it is,” Celeste snickered, as together they shouldered the dozing elf and tucked her into bed in an empty dormitory. “We’ll have a lot to discuss tomorrow.”
Clambering into a bunk of her own, Tav fell into a deep, and mercifully dreamless, sleep.
