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Carry Me Onwards In Sunlight

Summary:

The battle is won, the fighting is over, but what was lost heavily outweighs what was gained. Second chances, however, are not beyond reach…

 

Spoilers for the end of Curse of Strahdanya!

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The swirling purple-blue light of the Professor’s portal faded away as (most of) the Azran expedition was pulled through space into the charred ruins of Old Bonegrinder. They all landed unsteadily, all staggering with exhaustion and emotion. The Professor and Victoria were leaning against each other as Clayton finished the spell with trembling hands. Kana caught herself from stumbling with her naginata, leaning on it heavily as the blood covered blade sunk into the dirt and ash. 

 

Shepherd whipped around, trying to regain his bearings and searching for Castle Ravenloft on the horizon. He had to blink away the blur of tears before his eyes caught the silhouette of the imposing castle in the distance. It was a towering shadow framed against a blood red sky, the epicenter of the corruptive mists creeping into the surrounding land. 

 

Suddenly, a bright light pierced the ominous fog around the castle, illuminating the land and sky around it in brilliant fiery colors. It originated from a small point next to the highest tower, but it quickly grew into a massive dragon-like form composed of red and gold flame. The flame spiraled up around the peak of Ravenloft. The draconic form lifted its head and let out a crackling roar that echoed throughout the entire land of Barovia before plunging down into the castle. In mere moments, the stronghold was overcome with dragon fire. 

 

Even at such a distance, the light of the flame shone across the faces of the remaining expedition members. For a moment, Shepherd believed he could even feel the heat of the fire washing over him. He realized after a second that it wasn’t the castle, but the lantern he held that was casting warmth through the wrecked windmill. The fire within the lantern had flared up, its colors matching those of the fire consuming Ravenloft. 

 

Without warning, the very spires of Ravenloft collapsed inwards and the structure crumbled before the group’s eyes. As the massive building caved in, another rumbling roar was heard, and the fiery dragon disappeared under the falling stone. The bloody mists almost instantly dissipated, the red skies lightening under a pale moon. The great expanses of fog were replaced with a single cloud of dark smoke rising where Strahdanya’s castle once stood. Victoria let out a shuddering gasp of shock, grief, and on some level, relief. 

 

There was the quieter sound of a spark popping, and the windmill’s wreck was suddenly much darker. Shepherd tore his eyes away from Ravenloft’s remains and felt a cold pulse of dread. The flame of the lantern had shrunken down into a flickering spark. It wavered once, twice, then extinguished entirely, casting the area into darkness. 

 

Shepherd fell to his knees in the rubble and sobbed. 

 

It began to rain. 



———



The first thing that Sarnax felt after he died was warmth. This was not surprising, given the nature of his final acts, but the soft feeling of sunlight on his scales was a stark contrast to the raging inferno he had been engulfed in moments before. 

 

Opening his eyes, Sarnax could see nothing but bright light all around him. He couldn’t even see his snout in front of his face. There was only light, warmth, and the vague sensation of floating.

 

The second thing Sarnax felt was sadness. Though he didn’t regret his actions, a deep, aching grief for what might have been welled up in his chest. After such a long journey and so much growth, Sarnax would never get to set foot in the Edelwood as his renewed self. There was so much more he could do, having experienced life outside of his cult. He had only just discovered the joy of friends, of family, of a brother. 

 

“Why do you grieve, Sarnax of the Edelwood?” A booming voice echoed in Sarnax’s mind. It spoke in Draconic, low and growling but not angry. 

 

Sarnax felt another wave of warmth wash over him, the unmistakable presence of his god surrounding him. 

 

“Firelord! I am your humble servant,” He instinctively tried to explain. There was no sound in the glowing realm he floated in, but Sarnax got the feeling he was heard regardless. 

 

“Answer. Why are you saddened by your fate?” 

 

Sarnax immediately protested, “I am not bothered by my fate in the fire, Firelord! It is an honor to become the vessel of your holy flames. I have always had faith!”

 

The sound of a great sigh reverberated in Sarnax’s mind. “Then answer me without shame, emberling. Why do you grieve?” 

 

“I…”, Sarnax hesitated, “I will miss them. My friends. My… My brother, your shepherd.” 

 

The dragon god let out a curious hum. “Shepherd… his soul has fire indeed. He reaches out to me as we speak.”

 

All of a sudden, an image appeared in Sarnax’s head. It was the wreckage of old bonegrinder, where the party was gathered together in pouring rain, making no move to seek shelter. Shepherd was kneeling with his horns nearly touching the ground, crumpled over the unlit lantern. Though Sarnax couldn’t hear his other friends or even the rain, Shepherd’s voice echoed in his mind as if from far away. 

 

“Please Gherix, please… I can’t lose him, I can’t…” Shepherd let out a gasping sob. “I– I can’t lose someone else to the fire, please, please…” 

 

Sarnax desperately wanted to reach out and comfort his friend, to raise him onto his feet and tell him that it was alright, that he was strong enough to light his own path. He could only watch, however, as Shepherd’s whispered prayer trailed off into silent shaking tears and the image faded away.

 

The light shifted around Sarnax, and he could see the silhouette of a mighty dragon looming before him. He stared in reverence at the form of Gherix, bathed in morning light. 

 

“Sarnax of the Edelwood, carrier of sacred flame, faithful servant of the Firelord,” Gherix boomed, “You planted seeds of light in a dark land, and purged the wickedness with the inferno of your soul. Now, you dwell in the realm of the Morninglord, who wishes to express his gratitude if I will allow it. What would you do with renewal?” 

 

Sarnax gaped at the flaming deity for a moment before finding the words to speak. 

 

“I did not wish for him– for any of them to suffer so. With renewal… I would like to continue guiding my friends. And… I would wish for them to continue to guide me. They have taught me so much, and by forcing me to question what I had been raised to think, they have somehow made my faith in you and the fire stronger than before.” 

 

Once Sarnax had finished speaking, Gherix’s mighty form moved towards him. The massive head of the dragon god lowered itself in front of Sarnax, gold and red scales glimmering brilliantly in the light. 

 

“You gave all that you had to the flame that consumed the darkness. I cannot promise that you will be whole in body when you return to the plane of the living, but if your spirit stays faithful to the flame, you will be able to continue on your path.” 

 

The light surrounding Sarnax began to intensify, and his god once again became a glowing silhouette before him. Gherix rose to his full height and growled, “I will allow the Morninglord to raise you once more. Find renewal from this great destruction, Sarnax of the Edelwood.” 

 

The light grew blinding, and the gentle warmth turned to a familiar fiery heat. Sarnax could feel himself being pulled away from the holy plane he was floating in. Though he tried to voice his thanks to his god, his thoughts were drowned out by the roaring of flame all around him, followed by the sound of soft rain. 



————-



There was warmth against Shepherd’s face. He opened his eyes, blinking away tears that mixed with the rainwater dripping down his face. He stared blankly at the tiny ember glowing within the lantern, not quite believing that it wasn’t a trick of his exhausted mind. 

 

He sat back onto his heels, holding the lantern in front of him. “What in the hells…” he muttered raspily to himself as the spark began to glow brighter. 

 

Shepherd could hear the surprised gasps and exclamations of his friends around him, but his eyes were fixed solely on the growing light. 

 

“Shepherd, what is happening? Are you doing that?” Kana asked urgently.

 

In a slightly panicked tone, he replied, “No! I-I have no idea what’s goin’ on! I don’t–”

 

His response was abruptly cut off as the tiny spark burst into a roaring flame. Shepherd dropped the lantern instinctively and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the now blinding light. Tongues of fire lashed back and forth out of the lantern’s sides, illuminating the wrecked clearing. 

 

Above them, the rain clouds were split by a beam of sunlight that shone down onto the inferno rising from the lantern. The front hatch of the lantern opened, and somehow even brighter light spilled from it. Shepherd, as well as the rest of the party, was forced to screw his eyes shut and turn away at the intensity. 

 

All of a sudden, the blazing light ceased. Shepherd lowered his hand, blinking to clear the spots from his vision. The clouds had resumed their cover, though the rain was beginning to lessen. The lantern had not extinguished, but had returned to its regular flickering flame. 

 

Shepherd noticed none of these things, since laying next to the lantern was a reptilian body wearing a tattered brown cloak and covered in ash. Sarnax was on his back, one clawed hand resting on the top of the lantern, unmoving. 

 

The whole group stood in stunned silence for a moment. Then Sarnax let out a soft groan and suddenly everyone was shouting and running. Shepherd rushed to his friend’s side and dropped to his knees, shaking hands reaching out but pausing, unsure of what to do. Kana situated herself behind Sarnax, gently lifting his head and shoulders to rest against her. 

 

Shepherd felt a pulse of fear in his stomach. Was Sarnax truly back, or was this a lingering trick of the cursed land? Was this his best friend (his brother), or merely an undead mockery? 

 

He narrowed his eyes and looked his revived friend over carefully, trying to sense any signs of unnatural magic or rotting undeath. 

 

Nothing.

 

Shepherd felt his eyes burn once more, this time not with grief, but with shock, desperation, and an aching hope.

 

 Sarnax was himself, but he looked awful. 

 

Most of his left side had been burned nearly beyond recognition. There were patches of normally mossy colored scales that were a discolored ashy brown. In some places, his bruised skin was cracked and bleeding slowly. When his eyes cracked open, they were dull and almost unseeing.

 

Sarnax’s hazy eyes landed on Shepherd’s form, though they remained mostly unfocused. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only let out a croaking cough. 

 

“D-don’t move, Sarnax, don’t move, we’ve gotcha, Kana’s gotcha,” Shepherd choked out.

 

The less burned of Sarnax’s hands reached out blindly for Shepherd, and he quickly took it. 

 

The Professor, who had been cursing and frantically fumbling through his case, pulled out a healing potion and shoved it towards Shepherd, who took it in trembling hands. He uncorked it and gently raised it to Sarnax’s mouth. Sarnax startled slightly when it touched his face, confirming Shepherd’s sinking fear that the damage to his eyes went beyond the appearance. 

 

The potion did its work, stopping the oozing of blood and restoring some color to the burnt patches of scales. To Shepherd’s dismay, Sarnax’s eyes remained dull and unfocused. 

 

“Can– can you see me, buddy?” He asked softly.

 

Sarnax paused for a moment, tilting his head and squinting. He began to speak, coughed, and then rasped, “I can see… vague forms. Lights. Colors. It is not much, but…” He took his newly healed hand and slowly raised it to touch Shepherd’s face, “you are still red.” 

 

Shepherd lifted his own hand to rest against Sarnax’s and took a deep, shuddering breath as the situation finally hit him. Sarnax was alive. Sarnax was alive

 

His shoulders began to silently shake once more. Sarnax frowned slightly when he felt a tear against his hand, and he gently swiped it away with his thumb, only for another to run down Shepherd’s cheek. 

 

“What do you weep for, Shepherd? I have returned.”

 

Shepherd shook his head, trying to find his voice.

 

“I thought– I thought you were gone. You were gone. You t-told me to be the shepherd, to– to get everyone out, and I tried, I tried so damn hard, an’ then you had to go and– and fuckin’ die on me and I didn’t– I can’t–”

 

“I am here, Shepherd. Gherix deemed me worthy of another chance, gifted by the Morninglord himself. There is still so much more for me to do and I… I did not wish for you to be in pain because of me. Any of you.” Sarnax tilted his head to look back at Kana, who was still holding him up, almost clinging to him. 

 

“Sarnax,” Victoria said shakily, forgoing the usual ‘mister’ she addressed him by, “Did you… is it gone? Truly?” 

 

Sarnax sat up slightly, supported by Kana, his gaze wandering to where Victoria’s voice came from, just behind where the Professor stood. He cleared his throat roughly and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

 

“Yes. It is done.” 

 

In the distance, smoke rose steadily from the ruins of Castle Ravenloft. Voices could be faintly heard coming down the road. The expedition stayed where they were, holding each other up as they watched the rain slowly stop. 

 

The sun was rising. 

Notes:

I decided not to tag this as a “fix-it fic” since the canon ending is beautiful and poetic and certainly does not need fixing. My heart on the other hand…

 

I might eventually write more for this au, we’ll see where my motivation takes me.