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Galathil stood frozen, facing the darkness stretching out at his feet. A single ladder separated him from the answers that, deep inside, he had longed for all his life. But then why was his heart beating so fast?
“Would you do the honors?” Astarion said, breaking the silence. Galathil frowned at him. When there was no answer, the pale elf cleared his throat. "You're a drow. This is your home after all."
Galathil flinched.
“This isn't my home!” He replied sharply, turning his gaze back to the void, his stomach in knots.
Halsin stepped forward slowly. “What he meant was that you're naturally more adapted than the rest of us.”
“And you have better vision,” Gale added.
Galathil clenched his fists. His red eyes gleamed faintly in the opaqueness. The Underdark was only one of two possible ways to the Moonrise Tower, where they should–no, needed to find a cure. They could always pass through the mountains. But if they turned back now, Galathil felt he would regret it for the rest of his life.
Assuming he survived.
“Tell me Soldier, what's on your mind?” Karlach asked softly.
“I- I'm not sure...” Galathil heaved an anxious sigh, scanning the mysterious darkness once more. After a moment, he lowered his head shamefully. “Maybe the idea of being so deep underground, away from everything...”
“A drow afraid of the underworld,” Astarion scoffed. “Well, now I’ve seen it all!”
Everyone glowered at him.
“You're forgetting that Galathil has never set foot in the Underdark!” Karlach growled.
“Oh yes, Astarion.” Shadowheart joined the tiefling, "Would you like to go down first, then? You're a vampire after all."
“I-”
“I'll go.” Everyone’s chaotic arguing was silenced by Halsin. They all turned to the druid, surprised. With an uneasy sigh, he continued. “I've been there before.”
Leaving it at that, Halsin began to descend.
The rest of the group exchanged confused looks, but questions would have to wait.
Shadowheart went after Halsin, and the rest followed suit. But Karlach's amber gaze remained fixed on Galathil. The tiefling understood that it was not the mere fear of the unknown alone that held back the drow.
She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey! Everything’s gonna be alright, okay? Whatever awaits us below, we'll face it together.”
Galathil remained silent. Every single member of their group was a thousandfold more experienced than him. They were the kind of heroes he had only heard of in books. Together, they triumphed over a camp of fanatical goblins (although Galathil preferred to knock out as many as possible rather than to kill), saved the Grove and escaped the tyrannical goddess of a githyanki crib. If the pages about the Mindwitnesses still haunted their worst nightmare, what they’d fear the most were other kinds of wounds. More confirmations that, after all, the prejudices against his people were justified.
Nearly all the drow they’d met until now - aside from the prisoner of the prism - were indeed evil. They just didn’t needed more.
The timid drow finally nodded.“Let’s go, then,” he murmured half to himself.
Karlach gave a warm smile and started to climb down. Galathil followed her, placing a hesitant foot on the first step of the cold ladder. He then began to descend slowly, securely holding each handle .
It was a long way down. At last, the already faint rays of sunlight disappeared, and unexpected multicolored bioluminescence array greeted them below.
Was it Galathil's infrared vision that provided this illusion? As the drow's feet returned to solid ground, he came to a stunned halt.
The Underdark was nothing like the sinister grey caves that had always tormented his imagination. The landscape before his eyes was almost as diverse as that of the surface. Some mushrooms were as tall as trees that came in all shapes and colors. Then there was the blue grass that shimmered beneath his feet.
He couldn't help but admit, it was beautiful and his druid heart was enchanted. The Underdark, despite everything, was not a mistake and had its place among the natural balance.
Yet, the feeling that overwhelmed him now was not the adrenaline of a nature lover faced with a new discovery, but melancholy. Like the revived memory of a long-forgotten life. Was this also what his hometown looked like?
As he joined his companions, he wondered if they too were seeing the same landscape as he.
A few paces away, Astarion arrived last. His silhouette glowed a faint purple, the color of uneasiness. Galathil chuckled.
The Underdark would never be his home, but for now, being associated with it could no longer be an insult.