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Shadows envelop the space around Liti as the voice of the Absolute comes thundering in, drowning out everything else. He doesn't register falling to his knees, only clutching at his head and willing his thoughts into order. Even the murderous urges in the back of his head are a whisper compared to the debilitating power of Her voice, the voice that’s working to disassemble him piece by piece by piece by -
The black fog parts. Three shadowy figures stand before him, and his heart seizes up. Longing crashes over him, overwhelming and bitter on his tongue, as he struggles to trudge through the sludgy mess of his own mind.
Who-?
"These are my Chosen," the Absolute booms. The older man is frozen with his hand out, and the woman remains leaning against something out of sight, but Liti can't bring either of their silhouettes into focus. As if of their own accord, his eyes keep sliding to the outline of the younger man. Something about him makes Liti's limbs ache to push past the suffocating weight keeping him down, if only to crawl closer to him.
Shadowheart surges forward, her odd artifact held aloft, and then gravity goes back to normal. Liti sucks in a breath. He looks around at his companions - Lae'zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart - and then back at the spot where the strangely magnetic man had stood. In its place is the ordinary stone bridge that had been there before the Absolute had spoken to all of them. As he turns back around, he sees Shadowheart hastily pocket the object.
" Chk ," says Lae'zel. "It's as I said - Shadowheart possesses a gith artifact.” Then, to Shadowheart, she says: “Do you still deny it?"
"That artifact just saved all of our lives," Wyll says gently, ignoring the look Lae'zel throws at him. "Perhaps it's best if Shadowheart keeps it for now."
The words tumble from Liti's lips before he can think to stop them.
"Did anyone else feel drawn to those people?"
All three of them direct their attention to him, Shadowheart clamping her mouth shut around whatever snappy retort she'd been about to toss Lae'zel's way. Liti's struck again by that peculiar feeling of loneliness that's been dogging him since he'd woken up on the beach. He swallows.
"I just meant... It feels as though the Absolute, whatever She is, wants us to join forces with her Chosen."
Wyll nods. "It does seem that way."
"That hardly solves the problem that this elf stole the-" Lae'zel starts to say. Shadowheart cuts her off.
" Half -elf."
"It hardly matters. You may be half-elven, but you are all thief."
"Can we discuss this later?" Liti says. Both women regard him with a mixture of apprehension and approval. "We've had a long, hard day, and we need to be at our best if we're going to wipe out this goblin camp."
"He speaks true," Lae'zel says.
"Fine. But I'll be keeping an eye on you," Shadowheart warns her in return.
"Let's rest up for now. I doubt any of us were planning to be attacked by the Absolute like that," says Liti. The group agrees.
As they turn and leave the goblin encampment behind them, Liti catches a brief whiff of something mouthwatering. It distracts him from the lingering thoughts of the strange man for but a moment. Then the ever-present hum of his horrible thoughts picks up again and turns directly back to that same man.
He frowns. Could he have known that person before the Nautiloid? Maybe they had shared a meal at some point, and that's what the roasting meat reminds him of. That would be a reasonable conclusion to draw, and yet, for reasons his fractured mind won't supply, Liti's completely sure it isn't the truth.
The last embers of the fire are dying out, but sleep still won't come. Liti lies on his side, watching the glow among the ashes fade up, down, and back up again.
The man from the vision is still on his mind.
Somehow, the broken bits of his memory keep insisting that that person is important . But how? Every time he reaches for the answer, all he gets is a splitting headache and a hollow feeling in his gut. He can't even tell whether that's from the pain of trying to access his lost memories, or from something to do with the role that the man had played in his life - or, perhaps, both. It's also impossible to ignore the fact that this man is the first thing he's recognized at all since waking up aboard the Nautiloid. He can't let go of a clue like that, but dwelling on it isn't-
"Darling," says Astarion, cutting into his thoughts, "I can hear you brooding from over here. Could you keep it down?"
"You don't even need to sleep," Liti whispers back. Astarion rolls his eyes.
"But I would like to."
That draws a smile out of Liti, who's found, over the past few days, that he has something of a taste for Astarion's theatrics. "So sleep," he says. "I'm not making any sound."
Astarion groans. "You're no fun."
Fun...? Oh. Liti pushes himself into a sitting position, careful to move quietly so he doesn't disrupt anyone else's sleep. Astarion does the same.
"It's the Absolute," Liti finally says, deciding that leading with one of the people She showed us won't leave my head and is clearly part of my past isn't the best idea.
"What of it?" Astarion asks.
"It's so... strong. It can shape our perception of reality, render us powerless." A shudder runs down Liti’s spine at the memory of the crushing weight of gravity holding him entirely still. "I don't like it."
"Nor do I." A small frown creases Astarion's brow. Something shifts behind his eyes; Liti can only guess at what it is.
"If Shadowheart's prism protects us from it," Liti continues, "then we've got to find a way to make that prism work for us on command."
Surprise registers on Astarion's face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that idea had come from me."
Liti nearly laughs. "You have good ideas, every once in a while," he says lightly. Astarion huffs but doesn't protest, though he clearly wants to. As they lapse into silence and lie back down, the blood-hungry voice at the back of Liti's mind starts picking up, muttering endless promises that Astarion's handsome face would look better contorted in agony as he dies a painful death.
The other topic it will accept being diverted to is the Absolute’s Chosen. The man with the ostentatious collar, the dark hair, the almost-black eyes that glimmered when he spoke…
Liti’s own eyes snap wide open. Black eyes? The figures had been entirely shrouded in shadow, invisible but for their outlines, and they certainly hadn’t spoken . Where had the color of the Chosen man’s hair and eyes come from? He shakes his head; he must be losing what precious little is left of his mind.
And yet the conviction behind the thought is unshakable.
Taking a deep breath, Liti focuses as hard as he can, reaching for something, anything to tell him who the hell he’s dealing with here. Nothing comes. For reasons he has no way of understanding, the smallest tatters that remain of the person he’d once been saw fit to tell him about the eyes of one of the Absolute’s Chosen - and no more.
When sleep finally, finally comes, it brings uneasy fragments of dreams spent running through city streets and coming back to face near-black eyes that shine with intelligence and amusement.