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“Ouch.”
The instant Astarion felt that sharp stab of pain on his cheek, he knew. He knew that everything was changing; that everything was going back to the way it was.
That knife-point of agony turned into another, and another, until his whole body was on fire.
“Ouch! Ouch! I’m sorry – I have to go!”
Without a look back at his friends, Astarion fled from the docks. From the sun.
Gale sloshed through the slime and filth, in the deepest tunnels beneath the Lower City, searching for Astarion.
Obviously, the vampire wouldn’t be found at the Guild, enjoying a glass of cheap wine at Nine Finger’s bar. No, that wouldn’t be
dramatic
enough. Astarion would be skulking in the darkest, most depressing hole in the sewers.
Gods, he hoped Astarion was all right.
“There you are.”
As Gale expected, Astarion was lurking far, far under street level, in the crumbled remains of a temple built to a god long forgotten by time. Astarion crouched in the darkest shadows, his red eyes sparking from an inner glow. In this moment, he finally looked like a vampire to Gale, in a way he never had before. He seemed desperate, hungry, and utterly alone in the world.
Astarion didn’t move from the shadows as he spoke. “You found me. But you should be with the others, up in the light, enjoying the celebrations.”
Gale touched the Weave, flicking a small blue light to life. In the soft glow, Astarion looked like himself again, the pale face Gale had come to know so well. Gale slid down the stone wall to sit next to Astarion, trying not to think about whatever just squelched beneath his boots.
“I was worried about you.”
“You’re sweet. But, Darling, I’ll be just fine.”
Astarion smiled, but by now, Gale could recognize the mask the vampire wore when he was breaking inside. His eyes were so sad, filled with echoes of what he lost.
“I’m a creature of the darkness once more.”
Gale had so much he wanted to say, but as much as he loved words and used more words in one day than the average person spoke in a month, he often had trouble making words really mean something.
He wanted to say: You may be in the darkness, but you were never of the darkness.
He wanted to say: You don’t have to be just fine, not with me. You can mourn what you’ve lost.
He wanted to say: Look at me. Love me.
But he said none of that, Gale reached out a hand and laid it on one of Astarion's.
Astarion didn’t look at him, but didn’t pull away. “What will you do now?” the vampire asked, his voice so soft that Gale almost missed the question.
“It will be dark in a few hours. So I suggest we start at the Elfsong and the continue down the length of High Street, popping in to each tavern until we fall over, pass out, or both.”
Astarion wasn’t in the mood for levity and Gale’s attempt at it fell flat. “No. I mean, what will you do now…with me?”
“I’m not going to do anything with you. Or rather, I’m going to do everything with you. We can go back to my tower in Waterdeep. We’ll have to do something with the windows, we might need to dig a tunnel if you plan to – Oh! My mother! She’ll insist on meeting you. She’s a dear woman, but can be a bit much, especially when Tara is with her.” Gale was babbling now, trying to use inadequate words to fill this dark and brooding space.
“It’s as easy as that for you? We live happily ever after, with your mother and cat over for tea?”
“Well. Yes. Nothing’s changed.”
Astarion’s laugh was short and bitter. “Everything’s changed. I’m not a hero any more. I’m not a savior. I’m a monster. And now, that’s not even a useful thing to be, when we don’t have enemies to kill or an Elderbrain to defeat. You’ll get your full powers back. You’ll be an Archmage again, perhaps even Mystra’s Chosen again. And I’ll still be… this.”
On the night before they had entered Moonrise Tower, on the last night he thought he had on this earth, Gale had created the illusion of a beautiful night sky; stars and moons and comets streaking overhead. Blotting out the blight of the shadowlands. Bringing a brief moment of peace.
Now, he created the illusion of a different type of sky. Gale filled this festering ruin with an expanse of blue, puffy white clouds. And above them, the sun shining brightly, warmly, chasing away the shadows.
“You. You are everything.”
Gale squeezed Astarion’s hand. The pale elf finally turned, finally looked into his eyes.
“I promise we’ll find a way for you to be in the sun again, for you to have everything you want. But until that day, I will bring the sun to you.”