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Summary
You remembered the moment well. The brief flash of pain or fear on his face, then a snap. A loss. A shattering of being. He was still here, but not quite. Every now and then you could almost swear that you caught a glimpse of profound sadness cross his face, before it disappeared into the abyss. You would never give up on him, never abandon him, though you struggled to fend off the niggling doubts that plagued your mind, a swift replacement for the tadpole you had finally been rid of.
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Astarion had ascended, gaining everything you thought he desired. Now, in the midst of continuing to defend Baldur's Gate and unravelling the origins of your unsettling power, all you could pray for was the reversal of time, the restoration of the man you adored. But he was gone. Wasn't he?