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Shadowheart knelt at the entrance of her tent, as she had every night since she'd escaped from the nautiloid, prepping herself for her evening meditation. She let her hands rest on her thighs and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, slowly, letting her mind go clear and blank.
It only lasted for a moment.
She may not have had most of her memories, but she could at least recall that she used to be very good at meditations. She was one of Shar's best - that's why she was chosen to come on this mission in the first place. Her ability to concentrate on darkness, on nothingness, to block out every distraction no matter how intrusive, was one of the reasons, she was certain, she'd been so highly favored.
And now it was slipping from her grasp.
The conversations around the campfire rose and fell like a distant drone before breaking clean through her concentration.
"...always heard that the Duke threw the greatest parties," Karlach was saying.
Wyll's warm chuckle drifted through the air. "My father may not have been a great proponent of levity, but he certainly knew what his people wanted."
Shadowheart screwed her eyes shut tighter, drawing on the grateful darkness that lay in the depths of her mind, pulling it forward to cover herself like a blanket. She felt the breath in her chest, and released it to the emptiness of loss in Shar's unforgiving hands. Quiet fell again.
It was broken by the grating shear of Lae'zel's weapon wheel.
Shadowheart opened her eyes again with a short, furious huff. This was bloody impossible. How she'd managed any semblance of stillness since coming to this damned camp was far beyond her comprehension. She had half a mind to up and leave, find some true solace in the surrounding forest.
But she stayed still. Kneeling as she had been before, but with her eyes open now. The firelight flickered with the movement of bodies around it. Karlach and Wyll were dancing now. Slowly, and a bit clumsily.
"They didn't teach this kind of thing in the lower city," Karlach said, her eyes on her feet.
"You're doing wonderfully," Wyll said, and Shadowheart could hear the smile in his voice. "Right, two, three, left, two, three— see, now, you're getting it."
"You seem to be something of a natural, Karlach," Gale chimed in, his hands in the air and seeming to conduct what sounded like a soft, invisible quartet. "I'd have thought this was your hundredth dance and not your first."
"You two are shameless flatterers, you know that?" Karlach said, but she was smiling, Shadowheart could see it even from here.
Wyll gave Karlach a slow spin, and Karlach's resulting laugh lit up the air like a sunrise.
Shadowheart laughed quietly in spite of herself, a strange feeling filling her chest at the sight of her companions.
Companions.
What an odd thought. A foreign one, certainly. She'd embarked on this mission for Shar with a group of others, all hand-chosen by the Mother Superior, all individuals with whom she'd grown up, and she'd only considered them acquaintances at best, just other individuals with whom she'd happened to be grouped, and nothing more. She was the only survivor of them all, and she'd not had even a moment's thought to grieve them.
But these people, these strangers, in the span of only a few weeks had become familiar enough, friendly enough, for her to classify them as companions without thinking twice about it. And if, in some unkind turn of fate, she had to lose any of them—
She closed her mind to the idea, redirecting her gaze on instinct as though doing so would better assist in ignoring the thought. Her eyes fell upon Lae'zel. The gith held her sword, but she'd ceased the sharpening of it, her attention also seeming to have been taken by the antics around the fire. She stood tall and still, chin high as it always was in that prideful posture of hers that seemed never to loosen. Her gold eyes were attentive and bright even though she stood outside of the immediate glow of the firelight. Shadowheart noticed then with a start that a strange, foreign expression was playing across Lae'zel's face. It was a smile , small and almost completely unnoticeable, but compared to her usual scowl it was as clear as a spring day to Shadowheart's eyes.
A warmth bloomed in her chest, and she could not place the source of it, but she also could not tear her eyes away. She thought of all the ways she'd seen Lae’zel in these past weeks - stubborn and haughty, lithe and warlike, blood-spattered and utterly dangerous to anyone who dared cross their path the wrong way. It was strange to know her in that way, to be familiar with her sharp and biting tone, and to see her here, now, her sword cradled in her arms like an infant, and her piercing golden gaze nearly warm as she watched the two dancing devils across the clearing. Shadowheart wondered distantly what it would be like to see Lae'zel's sharp, gleaming double incisors bared not in a snarl or a sneer but in a true smile, one very like the one that threatened to expose itself in fullness just now. She wondered if her eyes would shine, or if her nose would wrinkle. She wondered what Lae’zel sounded like when she laughed.
Pain split Shadowheart's palm. It was a lance, a searing branding iron. She could not help the piercing yelp that jumped from her throat, and she doubled over, clutching her hand to her stomach as though that would help anything. It never did. Nothing ever helped. The pain shot up her arm, clawing its way toward her throat. Then it passed with the same immediacy as always - gone as though it had never been there to begin with. As though Shadowheart had imagined the thrill of blinding agony all on her own.
She sat up, slowly, trying to catch her breath, blinking the stars from her vision. The dancing by the fire had not slowed; it seemed no one had noticed her embarrassing little outburst. Just as well.
She closed her eyes again, this time not trying to meditate but instead trying to subdue the nausea that always followed these bouts of pain. If she could have been afforded some kind of warning before the pain came on, she'd feel more prepared to handle it. But the suddenness, the unexpected nature of it, like a backhand across the face, always left her feeling a little unwell after the fact.
She heard footsteps. She prayed for them to move right past her. They didn't. They stopped not a pace away. Shadowheart kept her eyes closed.
"Your wound troubles you."
Lae'zel's tone was brusque and abrupt as ever. Shadowheart opened her eyes with great reluctance, looking up at the gith standing over her.
"So it does," she said, just as brusquely. "Now, is there something I can help you with, or did you come over here just to recite the obvious to me?"
"Chk," Lae'zel bit out, tossing her head. Shadowheart expected her to turn on her heel then, likely with a scathing reply hot on her lips as she went back to her tent, but she didn't. Instead she took another step closer and crouched in a single fluid movement. She extended her hand to Shadowheart, her long, clawed fingers unfolding expectantly.
"What?" Shadowheart asked, feeling equal parts icy and baffled.
"Your hand. I wish to see it."
"I think it's been through quite enough, thank you."
"If I wanted to bring you harm, there are a thousand other ways I would have done so already." Shadowheart hesitated, and Lae'zel rolled her eyes. "I swear upon my queen and my people not to hurt you, istik. Is that a sufficient vow?"
Shadowheart let out a huff, but she held out her hand. "I didn’t need you to make a bloody vow," she mumbled.
Lae'zel did not deign to respond. Her calloused fingers closed with surprising gentleness around Shadowheart's wrist, and she supported Shadowheart’s hand in hers, delicately almost, like she were cupping an item of exquisite value: a finely-forged dagger, perhaps, or a porcelain figurine.
“Hm,” she said after a moment of closely inspecting the dark mark. “Is it painful to the touch?”
“No,” Shadowheart said. “It may as well not be there at all when it’s not hurting.”
Lae’zel passed her thumb across the mark slowly, as if feeling for something, and Shadowheart felt her heart inexplicably flip.
“No pain?” Lae’zel asked, her eyes flicking to Shadowheart’s face.
Shadowheart didn’t trust herself to speak, shaking her head mutely instead.
“And you’ve attempted healing via magic?”
“Of course not.”
“Chk. The height of folly. What if it distracts you during an enemy’s attack?”
“My lady has anointed me with this pain. It is my duty to bear it.”
“For what reason?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What use is the pain? Does it give you insight into her will? Does it bolster your courage when you need it in battle?”
“I…” Shadowheart flushed. “No. It doesn’t. It merely exists. And that is reason enough for me.”
“Kain’cha,” Lae’zel said under her breath. “I cannot make sense of it.”
“You don’t need to make sense of it,” Shadowheart said sharply. Then, softer, for reasons she couldn’t fathom: “The way of loss and pain often has no sense.”
“That is true enough,” Lae’zel mused in surprising accord. “Life is chaos. Death, pain, sacrifice - all have their place in it. But a god that inflicts pain with no source, no foe, nothing to defend against.” She shook her head. “It is madness to me.”
Shadowheart tried to bristle. She felt as though she should take her hand back, snatch it away and dismiss Lae’zel soundly before she returned to her meditation. But Lae’zel’s hold was still careful, and her thumb brushed absently against the edge of the mark, and something in Shadowheart could not bring herself to break her grip. She could scarcely summon a rebuttal at all.
“I am obedient,” was all she could manage. “That is what she asks.”
Lae'zel's gaze rose to her face again, steady and searching, that familiar intensity making Shadowheart's insides flutter, but she couldn't bring herself to mind it.
“You bear a strange kind of courage, istik.”
“I’m sure that’s what passes as a compliment for gith,” Shadowheart said, and even she could hear that her bite had all but vanished.
Lae'zel released her hand then, but she did not stand to leave. Instead she settled into a seated position, propping her arm over a knee. “It is not a compliment, nor is it an insult. It is merely truth. Your courage is the kind that turns its back to the light and steps fearlessly into shadow. It is rare indeed.”
Shadowheart held her hand in her lap, her fingers finding the place where Lae'zel had touched her. "Thank you."
"Your name was well-chosen," Lae'zel said with a nod, and though her voice was low she spoke the words like a royal decree, like a solemn vow.
Shadowheart looked at her, feeling vaguely startled but not unpleasantly so. She took in those familiar, alien features – the snub, upturned nose, the clear gold eyes, the proud mouth, the long, ridged ears – and felt as though she were seeing them for the first time, but through a clearer lens than before.
Then she looked away, and watched her friends dancing by the fire, and felt Lae'zel by her side, and thought she had never felt so at home in the shadows.