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Communing with Selûne felt improbable at best in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.
Astrid hoped—uncharitably, she was well aware—that Shadowheart was having similar difficulties communing with Shar.
She'd been distant ever since they'd arrived, ever since Shadowheart had smiled at the realization that the land's curse couldn't touch her. She thought Shar loved her, was protecting her.
Shar didn't love her. Shar didn't love. But telling her that here—among the destruction wreaked by Shar's wrath—was foolish at best.
Past experience warned it was a death wish at worst.
Astrid sighed, rolled her shoulders, leaned forward on her knees, and re-lit the incense.
"Let your moon be my light," she recited, "and I shall let my sword be your shining symbol."
The spell was a reach for her in the best of times, but here—and after two failed attempts already—Astrid knew she was pushing her luck. She would never presume so much from her goddess if her questions weren't immediately important.
"C'mon, Selûne," she murmured, pouring another vial of holy water around the bowl of incense, "Just a moment of your time, my Lady? I know it must be difficult here, but if you could provide some…"
The incense doused again, cutting off even the last few curls of smoke.
"…some guidance about Shadowheart."
Astrid sank heavily back, grinding the toes of her boots into the sickly earth. Regardless of which goddess kept cutting her ritual short, it was clear she would receive no answers from her own tonight.
"Alright, my Lady," she said quietly, managing a tight smile, "Perhaps another time."
Astrid gathered her things, but didn't feel like returning to the middle of camp to try and sleep yet. At the moment, she didn't know whether she could take the sight of Shadowheart with her head bent in prayer.
Smiling beatifically at the thought of a goddess who would only destroy her in the end.
Gods, she'd been so different before they'd arrived in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Joking, smiling softly at her, grinning widely whenever Scratch or Itch ambled to her camp for attention…
…leaning her head on Astrid's shoulder whenever she perched on her stool as Shadowheart knelt.
Had it only been last week she'd teased Astrid about being the exact right height for a headrest if she grew tired while kneeling? A month since they'd kissed over a shared bottle of wine and held one another until morning?
"Are you well?"
Astrid startled and turned to see her pacing had brought her to Halsin's camp. He lounged, comfortably seated in front of his tent. As was his habit before bedtime, he was in the process of whittling something. She smiled—though she knew it was unconvincing—and shrugged.
"Sorry, I suppose I've been wandering." She shrugged again. "'Lost in thought' seems to also mean 'lost in camp'. Didn't mean to intrude."
"I might object if you chose to stride directly into my tent without invitation, but you're hardly intruding. We share the camp outside our own sleeping spaces." He frowned, a thoughtful furrow diving between his brows. "But I'll admit I remain concerned. It isn't like you to wander, especially here."
"No, you're not wrong." Astrid sighed. "Not the best idea for someone like me to wander about in Shar's playground, no matter what blessings we have to keep her in check. And even then, mortals flaunting gifts in front of other gods never ends well." She rubbed her arm and frowned. "I should have been more careful. I didn't mean to worry anyone."
Halsin nodded. "Perhaps you should sit a moment? If you're seeking solitude, there's a house at the crest of the hill that is both empty and safe."
"That's sweet, really, but…"
Astrid had primarily been a caretaker of her cloister's animals before the nautiloid; the clerics and priests there had grown a reputation over the decades for taking in nervous or injured ones to rehabilitate.
Most of their patients were wild and went on their way after healing, but most of the domesticated ones—especially the horses—remained.
Halsin was like a calming goat in a stable full of anxious horses. He could probably accomplish that literally, but he seemed to strongly prefer his bear wild shape. More than fair; it might spook real horses. But the bear looked awfully soft and cuddly when it wasn't in battle.
Sturdy, too. She'd certainly leaned on him a couple times after fights to catch her breath. He'd always leaned back slightly so he'd better catch her if she stumbled.
Well. Perhaps, given he was probably somewhere between twice and thrice her height, a metaphor where she was a horse and he a goat was plain silly.
Her thoughts were rapidly getting away from her. She shook her head to clear it.
Maybe he wouldn't mind if she stayed a little longer to catch her breath over everything?
"…I think I'd rather not be alone right now, if it's all the same to you."
"I wouldn't say no to the company. Thaniel has gone to speak with Arabella. He may not return here tonight."
Astrid sat beside him, leaning back on one hand. "I'm glad they're getting along so well. I think they could each get some good from the other's perspective."
Halsin hummed in agreement and tilted the carving in his hand delicately. "He's resented his loneliness for so long, he could use a new friend. And Arabella could benefit from another mentor when it comes to her new abilities."
"Oh, yes." Astrid's lips thinned. "She's awfully young to be on her own, no matter what Withers says. I worry…"
The image of Shadowheart's shared memory seared her mind. She'd been young too—perhaps even younger than Arabella—when the Sharrans had taken her.
And, however Shadowheart denied it, the memory had held too many hallmarks of a Selûnite initiation ritual to be a coincidence. Her stolen memory more generally made it even more likely.
Just like Sharrans—just like Shar—to spite Selûne by kidnapping one of their children and doing gods-knew-what to make her forget.
"…I worry someone might take advantage," she finished quietly, "A child's mind is an easy one to manipulate."
"I suspect Withers won't be so far away as he'd lead you to believe."
"True. But his idea of help doesn't seem to match a mortal's." No offense, my Lady. I do understand if you're busy, especially here. Astrid scoffed. "I'm sorry I'm so glum tonight. I know I'm not making the best company."
Halsin tilted his head with a chiding half-smile. "I'd be a poor friend indeed if I expressed my concern, offered my company, and then insisted you keep things light and entertain me."
Astrid laughed. "You're right. I'm not making any sense. I've been out of sorts since we stepped foot here, and I know that's blatantly obvious."
Halsin said nothing for a moment, focusing on a detail on the bottom of his work. It very much looked like a bird head now. An eagle, perhaps.
"Forgive me if I'm intruding," he began, "but I suspect you're feeling less than your usual self out of worry for Shadowheart?"
Astrid winced. "Is it so obvious?"
"I can't speak for the others, but for me it is, yes." He shook his head and dusted a few wood shavings onto the ground. "You've hardly spent any time together since we've arrived, aside from the missions around Moonrise. And rarely in private. It's a stark difference from when I first joined you."
"Hm."
And those missions had been…tense, to say the least, with the difference in their goddesses manifesting quite literally whenever they cast spells. It was even odds whether she caught Shadowheart smirking in pride or frowning in concern each time she noticed Astrid struggling to channel Selûne. Increasingly…
Astrid sighed, kneading a hand down her leg. "I keep having nightmares," she admitted, "about her face lost beneath a Dark Justiciar mask. Seeing her light dimmed and caring for nothing aside from Shar's will."
Her eyes stung. She knew she'd begun crying and didn't fight it.
"But then I remember things like yesterday—the way she joked when I found those night orchids for her—and I think…I think that she's not yet too far gone, and there must be something I can do to…to…"
"Astrid?"
She blinked. "Sorry, I…what?"
He'd set his carving down and was offering her his hand, but had stopped well short of touching her. He withdrew it and rested his palm between them. "I'm more than happy to offer a literal shoulder to cry upon in addition to a metaphorical one, but only if you wish it."
Astrid laughed softly and rested her hand atop his. She felt his pulse jump immediately.
"Would it be alright if I sat a little closer and leaned on you?" she asked, "I'd take your hand, but…well…it's comforting watching you carve."
She swore he blushed, though it was hard to tell against his red tattoos in the dim light, before he smiled and nodded. "Of course. Make yourself comfortable."
She took the invitation readily, curling up against his left side where she'd be least in the way.
"I…" he cleared his throat, "I have an extra knife if you want to try?"
"Oh, I've never been particularly artistic." She tilted her head, remembering the step-stool back at her temple. "Well, with finer details anyway. My ma taught me a bit of stonework when I was still small." She snorted. "Small-er, anyway."
Astrid had always been on the short side, even for a dwarf; the High Priestess had gifted her a sturdy step stool after she took the healing apprenticeship so she could better reach the taller animals. She'd thanked her profusely and inlaid a few moonstones in the steps with her next stipend.
Gods, home had never seemed so far away as it did here.
"…teach you?"
She frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, I got lost again. What was that?"
He nodded, smiling patiently. "I was saying I could teach you?" he repeated.
"Oh, I appreciate the offer, but…" She held up a still-trembling hand. "I think I'd just make a mess of myself trying to handle something sharp right now, and I'm out of spells until I can rest."
He held her hand briefly, stroked his thumb over her pulse point, and nodded. "I'm about to start something new if you have any requests?"
"Oh, hm…" Astrid smiled. "How about Scratch? Like a little figurine?"
"I can do that."
Comfortable silence fell as he began to work. Astrid found herself nearly in a meditative state, watching the dog take form in each of Halsin's careful cuts.
She relaxed by degrees, feeling the tense and release of the muscles in his side as he worked, hearing the steady chip of his knife, smelling the fresh petrichor of the green wood he used…or perhaps that was his scent? Whatever the source, while laying against his side, she felt completely enveloped within it…not just his scent, but the steady calm he exuded.
Like she was floating. She could easily fall asleep there.
But that felt like an unfair imposition, so she sat up straighter to both rouse herself and warn him.
"Halsin, I might fall asleep like this."
"I'd consider that a high compliment." He carved another careful line down the carving's side. "Would you rather I keep you awake? Or you're welcome to sleep here, if it might help you rest more easily. I have a spare bedroll if you'd rather not move your own tent?"
Gods, he was accommodating. She knew several of the others found that a bit stifling, but, frankly, it was nice to be the one fussed over for once. And besides, wasn't 'healer, heal thyself' one of the first lessons she'd learned when she'd sought to become a cleric?
"I should stay up a bit longer," she answered finally, sitting up straighter yet, but keeping the length of her right leg pressed against his thigh. "Maybe I can take you up on that lesson now?"
"Feeling more relaxed?"
"Much." Astrid snorted softly. "I think I needed touch. Petting the animals is one thing, healing people is another, but…" She shrugged. "I suppose that sounds strange when we're in a group as big as this. Feels like that should be enough."
"Not strange whatsoever." Halsin etched a few more lines, effortlessly capturing the unconditional kindness in Scratch's eyes. "People are pack animals, too. You don't see wolves wandering to their own individual dens at the end of the night."
"It was more like that in the temple, too," Astrid mused, absentmindedly running her palm over her calves, "Dormitories were practical in case of danger, of course, but it also meant we could just ask to crawl in with someone if we liked."
The other acolytes rarely said no if someone had woken from a nightmare or simply needed a cuddle. Astrid had spent her first several weeks at the temple burrowed between two of her mentors at night; she'd only been eleven: lonely, afraid, and missing her recently-deceased parents.
"If you still wished…" Halsin trailed off and shook his head. "Forgive me. I'm rambling about wolves and you've asked for a lesson."
Of course, as she'd grown older, there were other reasons she'd sought company at night.
But that wasn't what Halsin was offering. And she was hardly in the right frame of mind to say yes, besides. And Shadowheart was hardly in any state of mind to rationally discuss bringing another partner into their relationship.
Assuming they still had one, of course.
But she was clearly growing carried away again, presuming too much of Halsin's kindness. He was kind to nearly everyone.
"We're both allowed to ramble," Astrid said mildly, nudging his knee with her heel, "And I do appreciate the…" It hadn't exactly been an offer, she reminded herself; he would have finished saying it otherwise. She laughed and shook her head. "How about we try to make a matching set? Itch is less gangly, so it might be harder for me to accidentally chop his legs off if I try carving him."
Halsin chuckled. "You'd have to be pretty aggressive to accomplish that."
"I can be aggressive!"
"In combat, I have no doubt. I've seen the way you fight. But I don't see you acting anything but careful with something small or delicate in your hands."
Delicate…Astrid stilled, absentmindedly rubbing her fingers together. Yet another loss to realize and mourn, however trivial it might seem in the weight of such darkness: Shadowheart had stopped asking for her help fixing her hair before bed.
Astrid had teased her the first time, gently brushing her fingers through Shadowheart's hair to be sure she'd combed all the tangles free:
I never expected to end the day by running a starless night sky through my fingers.
Shadowheart's mouth had twisted wryly, but she'd failed to fully suppress a laugh; Astrid had heard the quiver of it in her voice when she'd answered:
You hardly need to flatter me; I'm already in your lap.
She'd managed to lull her to sleep there once, much as Shadowheart had denied it after. Though…amusing as her posturing could be, Astrid recognized it for what it was. Shadowheart's pride masked fear of what such simple things—restful sleep, laughter, a kind touch—might represent: weakness, vulnerability, attachment.
Sharrans weren't allowed soft things.
Halsin's hand lightly pressed hers and returned her to the present. Astrid squeezed back gratefully and took a deep breath, then nodded and managed to revive the smile on her face.
"I'll be careful," she agreed, "How do I start?"
An hour and a few minor cuts and scrapes later, she held a plump, crude, wooden owlbear cub in her hands. The beak was off-center and she'd lost a few of its talons in her enthusiasm, but it was recognizably Itch. Astrid beamed.
"Oh, I can see why you do this so much," she said, turning the carving over to see its tail—the one piece she'd managed to get exactly right. "It's almost like bringing a miniature version of them to life."
Halsin nodded. "You're more than welcome to return anytime you wish to make more. I keep enough wood scraps on hand to keep four of me busy, if need be."
"I might just take you up on that. Thank you." That was probably her cue to politely excuse herself and go to bed, but she hesitated. "This has been…lovely, really. I know you said it wasn't an imposition, but I think I needed all this. It's been…" She shrugged. "…complicated."
"To say the least," he agreed, "I…for whatever it is worth, I believe you've been handling the complications more than admirably. It is no shame to feel exhausted after expending so much effort trying to set everything right."
"Thank you," she repeated, rolling the carved owlbear in her hands, "That means a lot, coming from you." She stood and her gaze wandered hesitantly to her own vacant campsite, then at Shadowheart still kneeling in prayer in the tent beside hers. " I suppose I should…" She laughed uncertainly. "I still don't know what I'm going to do about her."
"Shadowheart?"
Astrid nodded. "This is going to come to a head—sooner rather than later with everything we've seen—and…" She sighed and felt her lip quiver. "…I don't want her getting hurt. And I really don't want to be the one who hurts her, but if this continues…if she keeps doing Shar's bidding…"
Halsin offered her his hand. She squeezed it gratefully.
"…I might have to," she finished quietly.
"It hasn't yet come to that point," he assured her.
"But it might."
"It might."
Astrid took a long breath, squeezing Halsin's hand again on the inhale. He took her other hand as well when she finally exhaled and she smiled faintly.
The smile died quickly though. It hadn't yet come to the point where Shadowheart had gone too far to tolerate, but they could reach that point any day now. Astrid braced herself, unable to meet Halsin's eyes as she asked the most important question—the one she'd failed to commune to Selûne.
"And if it does?"
"Then you'll make the right decision when the time comes."
Astrid's mouth twisted in a shaking laugh. "That was quick. You're that…" She looked up, finally meeting his gaze again, and nearly stumbled back a step at the earnest belief she saw in his eyes. "…oh. You're serious."
He blinked, taken aback. "Of course I am."
"I…" Astrid shook her head. "…don't get me wrong, that's very flattering, but…I...why?"
"You've led us all this far. You've gone out of your way to help anyone you could: the tieflings, the Grove, the children, Thaniel…and I see you checking in on all of us before we settle down for the night, too."
"I'm a cleric. I can't help…" She wrinkled her nose. She knew her checks got on more than one of their companions' nerves. "…meddling. Mother henning."
"Taking care of people," Halsin corrected gently, "So I know that, whatever you decide, you've done everything you can to keep that person safe before going any further. I trust you and your judgment."
Astrid swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her eyes fell to the remnants of her failed communing rituals, drawn by the glint of holy water-soaked earth in the firelight. She followed the fainter flickers left by her earlier footsteps until she returned her attention to the present.
Warm eyes, warm hands, warm words.
Oh, she…she did have her guidance, didn't she?
Thank you, my Lady.
Astrid laughed, gently pulling a hand back to swipe a stray tear from her cheek. "Thank you. For…well, for the company and the…the perspective. I'm glad I wandered over here." Not wandering, my Lady, I know. I should have realized your intent sooner.
"I'm glad I could help." He moved to release her other hand, but Astrid held fast.
"I…" She hesitated, then shook her head, smiling softly. "…could I have a hug before I go? It's okay if that isn't something you—"
He pressed her hand again before releasing it, then opened his arms in offering. "Come to me."
She needed no further invitation.
Astrid shuffled forward on her knees and buried herself in Halsin's embrace. As soon as his arms closed around her, her eyes drifted shut. When he slowly wound one hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, her breath hitched and she let herself cry again.
Shadowheart was still bowed in prayer by the time Astrid returned to her side of camp. Astrid didn't disturb her—sneaking forward so quietly even Astarion might have been proud—before gently depositing the carved Scratch and Itch on the stool where she usually sat.
In the morning, she'd wake to find them gone. Though her heart sank at the sight, it soared once more to see them both lovingly wrapped in spare cloth, just peeking out of the edge of Shadowheart's travel pack.
Astrid said nothing, but she smiled. Hope still remained.