Chapter Text
A searing pain flashes somewhere behind Ashton’s eyes. It hurts so much that they lift their hands to cover their eyes, unsure what else to do to will the pain to subside.
The pain starts suddenly, but also fades quickly. Huh. That’s weird. It’s not the kind of pain Ashton’s used to dealing with. The fuck…?
Ashton opens his eyes and blinks — once, twice — but has to concede there’s nothing wrong with their vision (more than usual, that is). The scene in front of them doesn’t change. Which is good, since that means it’s probably real and not some kind of illusion. But also bad, because there’s a lot going on, and Ashton has no idea how it started, or how he fits into any of it.
There’s sparks and boulders flying, claws and blades clashing, and half the battlefield is obscured by smoke. Apart from flashes of magical fire, it’s mostly dim light. By the way the sound carries, Ashton thinks they're in a large indoor space, possibly underground.
Lots of people, lots of sand, lots of rocks, and most of it painted a crimson red hue. Also, a werewolf wielding a flaming scythe may have just winked at Ashton while running past them.
So, yeah. Feels like there’s a story there, but… Ashton can’t… Fuck. Ashton doesn’t remember what he was doing, how he got here, or where here even is.
Well, isn’t that just the story of their fucking life.
Answers later, action now.
Ashton’s hands are empty, and he’s pretty fucking sure that’s not right, so he does a quick survey of his surroundings, and finds what he’s looking for: a warhammer. More precisely, his magical glass hammer.
It’s on the ground, not two feet from him. It looks different than they remember, bigger and more jagged, but it’s definitely the hammer Milo made for them. Ashton picks it up, feeling relieved to be sure about at least one thing.
Ashton holds the hammer in both hands, and takes a defensive stance, but something feels off. The problem isn’t the hammer, they realize with a start, but their hands. More specifically, their right hand.
…is it even their hand?
His right arm is dark and rough in texture, like volcanic glass, and doesn’t match Ashton’s idea of what their right arm should look like. Nor does it match their left arm, which has a light green, marble-like texture punctuated by gold-filled cracks.
Considering everything else going on, this probably shouldn’t bother them all that much, but Ashton feels a panic start to grip his chest. It’s just one unanswered question in a stream of hundreds, but it’s also his fucking arm, and that feels pretty fucking personal.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
A surprisingly clear thought cuts through Ashton’s rising panic: “Defend the gatehouse. Kill the intruders.”
Right. That’s what he was doing. Right. Right? Wasn’t he? …was he?
…the fuck?!
The voice sounded from inside their head, but was definitely not theirs. It felt cold and alien.
Ashton looks around themself and then up, and that’s when they see it: a red-skinned humanoid is floating about 15 feet in the air, close to the cavernous ceiling of the room. The being is looking directly at Ashton with its dark eyes. There’s something demanding and forceful about that gaze, and there is a part of Ashton that wants to do exactly as the creature had ordered.
The problem? Ashton has no idea who the so-called intruders he’s supposed to be attacking are. At first glance, they’d assumed the fight was between the red-skinned humanoids and everyone else, but on a closer look, it isn’t that simple. There are red-robed humans (and half-giants and halflings and whatever), fighting alongside the red-skinned humanoids. However, even the red robes aren’t a good indicator of who’s on what team, since every non-red-skinned humanoid taking part in the battle seems to be wearing those same red robes, and they’re still at each other's throats.
Ashton gets ready to swing his hammer at anyone who comes too fucking close, but beyond that, they have no fucking idea what they’re supposed to do next.
The next orders inside Ashton’s head are less words and more intense frustration. They glance back at the floaty guy and make an aggressive, shrug-like gesture back at them.
Ashton can feel the other guy’s frustration, but it really isn’t Ashton’s fault that they couldn’t be more specific about their fucking orders. Ashton doesn’t know who the intruders are, and he doesn’t know where the gatehouse is. Are they inside it right now? Who the fuck knows!
The floating humanoid seems to finally catch on to what the problem is, but instead of answering Ashton’s many unspoken questions, its eyes flash an eerie white for a second, and Ashton can feel something change.
Somehow, the other person’s mind is now inside Ashton’s, enveloping around his like some kind of fucked up caress. The alien presense is trying to micromanage Ashton’s every move, and fuck that feels weird, and definitely not a good kind of weird.
Ashton feels their head turn toward a purple-haired woman, who has her back turned to them. He starts to close the distance between them, his hammer at the ready. During their earlier moment of confusion, their battle rage has dropped, so Ashton — or more precisely, the alien consciousness controlling Ashton’s body — also starts to rage.
However, the moment the rainbow-colored light show kicks in, the piercing shock of pain is back. It feels less like a head injury and more like someone is trying to perform brain surgery with a fucking ice pick. Or like Ashton’s head is too fucking full as is, but someone’s still trying to cram more inside it.
The pain doesn’t fade away this time, but Ashton is used to pain. If it was just that, he could probably keep going. What drops Ashton dead in his tracks is the weird technicolor flashes — visions? — unfolding before their eyes.
Ashton can see glimpses of other worlds, other timelines, other possibilities, but they aren’t other versions of Ashton. They’re other versions of the floaty guy — Feraash. Ashton knows the guy’s name the same way he just knows that he’s seeing thousands of glimmering possibilities of Feraash’s life flash before his eyes.
“Ashton, what’s wrong?” A new voice inside their head asks, sounding concerned. This voice is feminine and has a soft drawl typical of certain regions of Central Marquet. It’s hard to be sure, hard to focus through the pain, but Ashton feels like he knows this voice. Or like he should know it. She knew their name, right? Then again, she is inside Ashton’s head.
“Not. Helping.” Ashton thinks back, because if their head felt full before, now it feels overwhelmingly so, and he doesn’t really have the capacity to deal with her right now.
Ashton turns their head back in Feraash’s direction. Ashton’s waiting for — fucking what? Further orders, maybe? — but none seem to be coming. Feraash seems spellbound by the endless possibilities opening inside their mind — or are they inside Ashton’s mind? Who the fuck knows anymore.
Feraash is no longer puppeteering them, and hasn’t given them new orders. Ashton wonders if he should try to carry out the last orders they were given; the ones he’d failed to carry out before, because he was too confused by the situation.
Ashton still feels pretty fucking confused, but even through the visions and the pain, one thing is becoming pretty fucking clear: Ashton knows of one intruder, and he’s going to fucking kill them.
Just as Ashton turns fully towards Feraash, intending to attack that motherfucker, the rainbow sparkles die down around his head. Fuck!
Ashton’s going to burn through all their rages with their bullshit indecision, but so fucking be it. Even if they had the presence of mind to try to preserve their resources, he doubts he could stop himself from raging at the sight of the fucker who’s fucking with their already fucked up head.
Ashton starts raging again, and feels Space start twisting around them. Yeah, fuck this guy in particular.
After taking only a couple of steps towards Feraash, Ashton swings their hammer in a wide downward arc. A portal opens in front of them, and another right on top of Feraash’s head. For a split second, Ashton can feel Feraash focus on him again, but they’re too late to stop the momentum of his swing. Their oblong skull makes a rather pleasing wet cracking sound on impact.
To Ashton’s dismay, Feraash doesn’t go down from the hit. Ashton gets ready to hit again, going for another Wormhole Strike. Ashton’s memory is a mess right now, and he doesn’t remember if he’s used this particular power before, but it also doesn’t surprise him, so probably yes. They’ve never really understood how their magic works, so they’ve learned to just follow their instincts when it comes to this stuff. His body seems to know what it's doing, even when his mind does not.
Another portal opens in front of Ashton’s hammer, but this time Feraash is ready for it, and orders them to stop. And Ashton stops. The portal fizzles away.
Fucking, fuck, hells! How is this fucking guy still concentrating after…
Ashton’s inner tirade is put on pause when a streak of purple lightning flashes past him, just barely missing him. Feraash manages to dodge some of it, but not all, and finally, fucking finally, Ashton feels their presence slip away from his mind. The visions and pain fade as well.
Ashton doesn’t stop to secondguess again, doesn’t stop to ask for anyone’s fucking permission. While rushing forward, Ashton does spare one moment to glance back at the purple-haired woman who probably just saved them.
Ashton doesn’t thank her, not even a nod of acknowledgment, but when their eyes meet, they hear the female voice inside their head again, asking: “You okay now? Or need me to get Letters?”
Ashton doesn’t answer. What would they say? It’s weird having someone sound worried about them, like they know him — like they actually fucking care — while he can’t remember her name.
It’s easier to focus on stuff they can do, on stuff that’s right in front of them.
Yeah, I’m talking about you, Ashton’s thinks at Feraash while closing the last few feet of distance between them. He’s not sure if the other can still hear his thoughts, but it doesn’t really matter. Ashton’s murderous intentions are probably plain enough on their face.
Ashton is angry, and he’s scared, and confused, but they choose to focus on the anger.
Ashton feels a mental attack come his way, a reminder that Feraash can still fight back, but to their relief, all it does is damage them a bit. It doesn’t paralyze them, or make them blackout, or anything else really scary. Ashton’s determined to end this before Feraash has a chance to try any of that really scary shit again.
Feraash is still levitating, but the tunnel — tomb? — wouldn’t be big enough to keep them from Ashton’s reach even on a normal day, and certainly not while he’s got Space up.
Ashton makes another Wormhole Strike (how many of those do they have left?), and then jumps in the air for a regular attack. Both land on target, the first on Feraash’s sternum, the second on their legs.
Ashton feels another psychic attack hit him, pushing him 15 feet backwards, but that’s not going to stop him, or save this fucker.
Ashton takes a running start and hits them again, and Feraash starts falling towards the ground, but before Ashton’s sure he’s finished the guy off, a portal opens directly under his feet.
The fuck?! They weren’t done with that fucker yet!
Ejected from another portal, Ashton lands on his feet and looks around himself. Based on the smoke and sounds of battle, they’re still in the same cavern as before — maybe on the other side of the room?
Ashton hadn’t paid much attention to how the fight was going overall, but it’s definitely quieted down in the last 30 seconds or so. Ashton’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. To determine that, they’d need to know who’s winning, or what the sides even are.
Unsure who else to hit, Ashton looks for Feraash again, determined to make sure that guy isn’t limping away from this.
Ashton doesn’t immediately spot Feraash or the purple-haired woman. A tall faun lady chooses that moment to send three fiery missiles towards three different targets (none of which are Ashton, so maybe they’re allies. Ashton sure as hell hopes so.)
“Looking for something?” A creepily cheery voice asks from somewhere directly above Ashton’s head. There’s a… dead-looking tree witch thing crawling in the shadowy ceiling, tilting their head curiously.
Ashton nopes out of there without answering the question. He heads towards the nearest wall he can see, feeling far too exposed in the middle of the room like this. They’re not sure what’s more disturbing: the thing he just saw on the ceiling or the fact that it, too, felt familiar.
“Oh, Ashton.” The voice continues, this time with a cacophony of eerie whispers accompanying it. “Is everything all right?”
Paradoxically, the voice sounds even closer now, as if the thing from the ceiling was suddenly standing right behind them. Ashton turns around on reflex, but no one’s within hitting distance.
Psychic fucking bullshit… Ashton is still trying to calm their racing heart when someone touches them from behind, and they feel a powerful burst of magic enter their body.
Fuck.
It may be too little, too fucking late, but Ashton turns around and swings their hammer at the surprise attacker. The hit lands with a metallic thunk.
…what?
Ashton is face-to-face with another figure in red robes (so far everyone but the werewolf had been wearing them), but inside the robes is a yellow automaton with round blue eyes. The robot looks at them with a hurt and shocked expression (and Ashton isn’t sure how he knows that; objectively speaking, the robot has no features capable of forming complicated expressions).
Before Ashton has time to do anything else, a halfling man slides between Ashton and the automaton, pushing the robot behind himself and readying a defensive stance. He has a shield in one hand and a sword in the other, but instead of taking a swipe at Ashton, he shouts: “Snap out of it! We’re trying to help you.”
Ashton doesn’t know how to feel. More exactly, he’s caught somewhere between fear and guilt, but also doesn’t feel safe, and is probably a hair’s breadth away from having a full-on panic attack.
Ashton stumbles backwards. The halfing still doesn’t attack him. Fuck.
Out of the corner of his good eye, Ashton can see the werewolf and the faun lady are coming towards them. She looks ready to start casting something. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
Ashton’s back hits the wall of the cavern. They were backing away so fast they might have lost their balance on impact, but luckily they’ve always been sure footed on earthen surfaces.
But now he’s stuck, with nowhere to go, and he can see the tree lady land in the distance, and exchange a meaningful glance with Purple Hair. They are also heading this way. Fucking fuck!
On instinct, Ashton activates something inside themself, and continues to back directly into the wall and beyond. The last thing they see before entering the wall is the halfling rushing forward to try to stop them.
Somewhat muffled by the stone wall, Ashton hears a deep, gruff voice comment: “Well, that could have gone better.”
Then Ashton is deep enough in the darkness of the earth that although he can still hear raised voices, he can’t make out any words.
They wonder if they’re safe from magic and psychic bullshit here. They wonder where they should go. They wonder if this was the right call or not.
()()()
Orym sheathes Seedling and runs his free hand across the cavern wall, but it’s just that: a solid wall.
“Calm emotions, anyone? Grass? Imogen?” Fearne huffs, exasperated.
”The battle seemed over, so I didn't want to spook them by casting a spell.” Imogen explains apologetically, and adds more quietly: “I forgot Ashton can walk through walls.”
“You have a titan shard, too. Can you follow them into the wall?” Chetney, still in his wolven form, asks Fearne.
“No.” Fearne answers. “That’s not how it works.”
“I don’t understand what went wrong.” Fresh Cut Grass says earnestly. “Imogen wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong with Ashton, only that something definitely was, but Greater Restoration should have removed any confusion or charm effect.”
“Are you sure you had time to finish the casting?” Laudna asks sympathetically, placing one of her hands on the little healer’s shoulder. “You took quite the hit from them, after all.”
“The spell components were expended.” FCG comments thoughtfully. “It should have worked.”
While the others have been talking, Orym’s been keeping an eye on the spot where Ashton disappeared, but nothing’s changed visually, and he can’t hear any sounds coming from inside the wall.
Orym’s only seen Ashton use their elemental form once before, but from what Ashton had told him, he’d gotten the impression the earth genasi could move through earth for a long time, at great speeds, and didn’t have to exit from the same spot they entered. In other words, Ashton could be anywhere by now.
Turning to Imogen, Laudna, and FCG, Orym asks: “Can you message Ashton or hear their thoughts?”
“Even if Ashton’s still within range, the Message cantrip doesn’t carry through a solid wall.” Laudna humms thoughtfully.
Imogen is staring intently at the wall. “I tried to call them back just now, but if they heard my telepathic message, they didn’t answer.”
FCG fiddles nervously with their hands. “Sending should work regardless of distance, but what should I say? And what if Ashton still won’t answer?”
Orym looks at everyone in turn, but no one else seems to have a good idea at the ready, either.
Chetney sighs and says: “I'll go to the entrance and keep an ear to the ground, but I can already tell you: we shouldn’t linger. That battle was loud, and a whole patrol going missing won’t go unnoticed for long.”
“But…” FCG intersects, sounding worried. “We can’t leave Ashton behind. I know they’re acting strangely, but they are our friend. They would never leave any of us behind, if the roles were reversed.”
Orym frowns. Chetney is right, but Letters has a point as well. If Ashton was acting normally, they wouldn’t leave any member of Hells behind. But that really begs the question: “What happened? To Ashton, I mean? Did someone actually see them get hit with a spell?”
Everyone turns to look at Imogen, the one who had first alerted the rest of the group about Ashton’s weird behavior.
Imogen nods slowly. “I didn’t see how it started, but I knew something was wrong when Ashton almost attacked me. I’m pretty sure it was the Reiloran Thought Eater who did it. However… Ashton’s eyes weren’t white, like last time when someone Dominated them, and he seemed to be in a lot of pain while it was happening.”
Orym’s frown deepens. He’s no expert in matters of the arcane, but it’s worrisome that Imogen seems as mystified by the situation as Orym feels. “Did you try attacking Ashton? That snapped them out of it last time.”
“No, but I attacked the Thought Eater, and that seemed to help Ashton.” Imogen explains. “They went back to fighting the Reilorans after that, but…”
Imogen worries her lip, but eventually finishes her thought: “I had a hunch that something was still wrong with them, which is why I sent that psychic distress call to Grass and Orym.”
“A hunch?” Orym asks, sounding more exasperated than he’d intended, and goes on more congenially: “I mean, obviously you were right, and something was — is — still wrong with Ashton, but what specifically did you notice about them that made you concerned?”
Imogen frowns thoughtfully. “I sent a telepathic message to Ashton during the fight, but they didn’t answer it. They seemed… unnerved by it. I didn’t read their thoughts or nothing, but I got a lot of fear and confusion from them. Anger too, of course, but it was the silence and confusion that got me worried.”
Laudna moves next to Imogen, takes the young woman’s hand in her own, and says: “I saw Ashton looking lost during the combat, but when I asked them what was wrong, they just ran off, looking spooked.”
Laudna tilts her head to the side, unnervingly far so, and adds: “It might still be a confusion effect of some kind. That would explain why one moment, he’s fighting against us, the next he’s fighting with us, and then he’s just walking around aimlessly.”
“Greater Restoration should have removed any harmful spell effect, including confusion.” FCG reminds the party, sounding more and more agitated by the minute. He doesn’t add that if Ashton was acting normally, he would not have attacked FCG, but he doesn’t have to say it; they’re all thinking it.
Orym can think of at least one explanation that would fit the situation, but he hesitates to bring it up, mostly because he really hopes that, whatever it is they’re dealing with here, it’s something FCG or Fearne can fix with a spell.
Speaking of Fearne, she’s been unusually quiet. Orym looks up at her, only to be met with her gaze and a questioning expression. “What are you thinking, Orym?” She asks, sounding nowhere near as nonchalant as she usually does.
Everyone (except Chetney, who’s gone off to scout somewhere) turns to look at Orym.
Orym sighs, but puts forth his theory: “What if the problem isn’t magic? What if it’s, well, Ashton?”
Imogen frowns. “That Reiloran Thought Eater did something to them. I’m sure of it.”
Orym puts his hands out placatingly. “I’m sure he did, and I’m sure Ashton wouldn’t choose to start drama in the middle of a mission.”
“But…” Laudna continues Orym’s thought out loud. “But Ashton’s complicated. Their mind is complicated.”
‘More broken than any of us know’ were the words on Orym’s mind, but ‘complicated’ does sound more polite, while getting the same point across, so Orym nods at her.
“I mean, there was that time when FCG and Imogen got stuck inside Ashton’s head while trying to unlock more of his memories.” Orym says quietly.
To Orym’s surprise, it’s FCG who breaks the uncomfortable silence between them. It’s not unusual for the automaton to start to chatter away to alleviate tension, but it is unusual for their words to be a string of curses that would sound more at home coming from Ashton.
“Shit, fuck, balls.” They mutter to themself while rocking back and forth on their wheel. “We have to do something, so I’m Sending them a message, but what should I say?”
()()()
Ashton thinks their breathing has calmed down a bit, though they’re not sure if that’s physically possible while they’re holding their breath. Turns out, he can walk inside stone, but not breathe inside it. He can hold his breath for a pretty long time, but he really needs to come up with some kind of plan before that time is up.
Should he just go back?
It feels like a bad idea, since they only barely escaped the first time, but… with no idea where he is or what he’s doing here…
Ashton’s thoughts keep circling back to the look of hurt on the yellow automaton’s face. That automaton knew him. Probably not very well, considering they seemed to think Ashton wouldn’t fuck them over, but still. Ashton may be a fuckup, but he isn’t the sort of person who’d turn on an ally or go down on a deal, and the little robot clearly knew that. Was counting on it, maybe.
And Ashton hurt them. And then just left, without checking to see if they were okay. Which was kind of shitty, even for them.
Fuuuuuck.
Who does Ashton think he’s kidding? He has to go back and beg for forgiveness or some shit. Maybe try to explain themself, and that will suck, since the only excuse they can muster is that they were really scared and confused (still kinda are), and they don’t want to be that fucking honest and vulnerable in front of people they barely know.
But what's the alternative? Wander around aimlessly until he runs into someone else and probably gets in another fight?
The purple-haired woman had helped Ashton, or was at least fighting the same people he was. The halfing could have stabbed them, but opted for a stern talk instead. Even the creepy tree lady seemed to want to help.
Ashton’s fucked all by himself, so he has to go back, and hope they forgive him. If they’re still there, that is.
Right. They might have left already. The Nobodies left Ashton behind when he became inconvenient, and they were pretty much his family. Why would this group wait around for Ashton while he’s being an obstinate ass? Fuck. Fuuuck.
Well, only one way to find out.
Ashton has wandered pretty far from the wall where they entered, but they also move pretty fucking fast in here, so it doesn’t take long for them to get close to the room again. They know they’re getting close, because they can hear muffled voices arguing on the other side. (They didn’t leave yet, it seems.)
Ashton hopes they don’t all immediately pile on him or some shit. (Like they were worried about losing him?)
Here goes nothing.
The minute Ashton steps out of the stonewall, all the voices go quiet, and they all turn to stare at him.
Uh, Ashton should probably say something… He’s still holding his hammer in one hand, but they start to slowly raise their empty hand in what is hopefully a non-threatening gesture.
Before Ashton can decide what to say, the robot, the faun, and the purple-haired woman all cast spells at them, and it’s a weird sensation, suddenly being unable to move his body, but also feeling super chill about everything.