i.

The white dragonborn had scoffed at the trinket Gale found in the crypt, but Gale had sensed that it was more than just a necklace. It filled his chest with a sense of yearning, of hunger.

Gale was soon proven right when he realized it would allow him to cast Speak with Dead. D'ur'gg merely grunted and ordered Gale to use it from time to time.

Now, the wizard read over the note Astarion had found in the dead drow's pocket.

Track the druid, find whatever burrow he runs to, and report back to me.
Remember, you are only a scout. Do not engage. Do not kill anyone.
Simply observe and return. I shall decide what we do next.

- M.

This M surely had some information on what was occurring. The man who looked suspiciously like Volo observed the oddities of the goblins actions. They seemed unified under this new Absolute. A name like that did not sound like a divine name, one that would struck fear or love into someone's heart. There was something... off about this new deity.

While the others debated if they should steal the illithid tadpole that was on the desk, Gale took action. He called upon the powers stored within the amulet. He was grateful to be casting magic from an item, rather than use his own powers. This was magic already connected to the Weave, already woven into the great web. He did not have to ask for permission, did not have to feel the stares of Mystra on him when he casted.

What had gone from as mindless as breathing and as pleasant as a well-cooked meal had become a pure source of torture for Gale.

His wrist finished the somatic component and the body began to rise, a wind picking up to fill the lungs of the corpse.

"Who are you?"

"That is such a pointless question," Astarion said. Gale held up a hand to shush him. The elf looked ready to retort but their fearless leader kept him back.

"Ned'Cirannis... of the Absolute..."

"How many drow are out there?"

"Minthara... back at camp..."

"Where did you get your tadpole?"

The corpse kept silent.

"Where did you start following the Absolute?"

"Moonrise Towers... initiation..."

"Were you abducted by mind flayers?"

"No..."

With that, the power fled from Gale's fingers, as if the magic couldn't wait to be free from his control.

ii.

After a disappointing dinner of rations, Gale took out some paper he had found in one of the packs of the looters they had fought back at the ruins. Looters. That's what D'ur'gg had called them. Gale wished he had pointed out that their team of ruffians were also looters but the dragonborn scared him.

Gale had finally escaped the hell that was isolation only to be surrounded by the worst companions.

Gale wrote down the names of people he met, the information about the goblins, and how odd it was that the child, Arabella, had made a run for the door. Perhaps it all meant nothing.

He wished, longed, to be able to give in to nihilism. But to have been in the bosom of magic herself, to see the cosmos as the gods do, Gale knew all too well that the gods did care, did interfere. They merely saw things in terms of centuries, not mortal lifespans.

Desperately, Gale craved the comfort in the lack of care.

Instead, he sat, bent over in a tent tinier than the tiny huts he once summoned, looking at unhinged notes. His back ached, his eyes strained to read in the candlelight. And then, to compound matters, the orb began to have a twinge.

Within the next day or so, Gale would need to consume an artifact. Tara had been excellent at helping him procure these in the past. His heart ached at the thought of his beloved tressym, but he could not dwell on anything in the past.

No, Gale had to figure out how to keep the orb satiated and his companions away from discovering the truth of the matter. In the worst case, he did have that necklace. Gale touched it, rubbing a finger along its beads. The orb pulsed, letting him know it was acceptable tribute, but he did not ingest.

This was the thing that currently was keeping him as useful member of their troupe. Before the crash, before the nautiloid, before his exile, Gale could command even the highest level of spells. Some only under of Mystra, but Speak with Dead was easy enough. One he rarely used, finding it of limited value. Now, however, it was a lifeline for him. How odd the path fate has weaved for him.

There was chatter outside and through tadpole osmosis, Gale learned that a bard wished to stay the night. Apparently D'ur'gg had met her with Shadowheart, Astarion, and Lae'zel while Gale was told start setting up camp.

Gale knew it was because of his inability to keep his Witchbolt up.

He stayed up a bit longer, trying in vain to gain deep insight from his fragments. Yet, still, that reluctant requirement of living called to him and Gale went to sleep.

When he awoke, there was a grand commotion. He grunted and mumbled unkind words under his breath. Not a commotion, he hastily discovered, but a body. The bard's butchered body.

He glanced around at the others and all eyes were on D'ur'gg.

"Gale, speak to her! Find out what happened," he said.

Here was his chance to prove that he was worthwhile, that he should be with the face of the party, not just their chef.

With confidence, Gale strode over to the carved cadaver. Some of the sinews formed a skull-like shape. One that looked remarkably like--

"Gale, we're waiting."

"Right, sorry. Ahem, here we go."

He said the words, the body rose.

And nothing happened.

"Gale?"

He did the motions again.

"Gale?"

Why was this not working? Why was Mystra keeping this a secret from her? Why had he failed at this most basic of tasks?

"The corpse," he said, slowly trying to come up with an explanation for his failure. "The corpse's condition keeps it from being able to answer me."

D'ur'gg drank in this information.

"There are no lungs or vocal cords for her to speak with," he said, with a nod toward the corpse. "I keep trying to explain to you that magic has ways of being classified which helps with understanding the limitations and possibilities in the arcane arts."

"Is now really the best time for a lecture, Professor Gale?" Astarion asked.

"I apologize, right, of course. I merely wish to say that not all bodies will be able to answer," Gale said.

"Why don't you do some thinking on that while the rest of us start checking out that village?" D'ur'gg phrased the order as a question.

Gale nodded. He had failed.

How could he tell them about the orb?

iii.

"Do we have to use our very valuable scrolls on the wizard? It's not like he's useful in combat," Astarion asked to D'ur'gg.

"He has been barely above satisfactory as a warrior," Lae'zel said. "You were right to leave him back in camp."

At the trio began to debate what to do about their fallen companion, an illusory copy of him appeared before them. Gale's messaging relayed the importance of him staying alive.

A few more minutes of bricking past before D'ur'gg used the scroll.

"My word, you did it! Ha! Oh, it's good to be alive!" Gale said, amazed that his complicated protocol had worked. His stupidity hadn't led to the mass death of everything in the vicinity.

There was no warmth from the others upon his return. Just more questions that he couldn't answer.