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They had been traveling together long enough. Shadowheart, perhaps more than anyone, had grown the closest to Sol. A match for the Seven Hells, Sol often thought. A selfish and secretive Sharran with a paladin who fashioned herself a hero of all that was good and right. Yet, the tadpoles in their skulls had brought them together, revealed secrets neither wanted revealed, and before they knew it, the bond was knit.
A bond that was now being put to the test.
“Shadowheart!” Sol shouted, keeping her grip tight, but her sword lowered. The Sharran, her friend, was holding the Spear of Night against another paladin. A poor soul trapped for years in this dark magik. Dame Aylin.
She looked over her shoulder at Sol, frowning, maintaining that defiantly faithful mask to her queen of darkness. Sol knew her well enough to see the doubt etched on her skin, the twitching of the pointy ears, the too-tight grip on the spear, and the hitch of her breath.
Perhaps it was the paladin’s fault. She helped her friend during the trials, being off-handed about their differing views, and then outright ignoring the more problematic aspects of their adventures. The ruthlessness Shadowheart clearly forced during combat and speech. Not pushing hard enough when she had moral conflicts or something to talk about. Sol told herself their survival was more important. In reality, she was afraid. Now, Shadowheart might not listen.
“Nothing matters now,” the half-elf spoke, her voice barely a whisper, hands grasping the blackened spear until her knuckles turned white. “Not after I become who I am meant to be.”
She had already said that before. She was steeling herself for the kill. Sol could feel the hesitation being replaced with fear and anger, could see the tension in Dame Aylin’s posture, realizing what was about to happen.
No.
Shadowheart stepped forward, prepared to thrust her spear, only to grunt in shock as the tip collided with a large, gold-encrusted, steel shield. The symbol of Selune glowed on it, briefly, as Sols' brown eyes poked from behind. The paladin blew a stray curl from her face.
“I cannot allow you to kill someone who has suffered so much, for no good reason,” Sol declared. “You are better than this, Shadowheart.”
Her eyes widened in shock and betrayal, making the human’s own chest ache in anxiety and regret. “You dare to stop me? At the crux of my journey? After everything we have been through?”
“It is because of everything we’ve been through that I cannot, Shadowheart,” Sol snapped back, tossing her shield aside and gripping her long sword in two hands. The action was a warning in itself: The paladin would not hold back.
“You’ve allowed the moon witch into your heart,” her friend spits back, raising her own spear and shield. “Her light poisons your mind, empowers you to stop me; she is making you betray me!”
Sols jaw clenched, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply, shaking her head. “No, my friend. I hold no faith in Selune or Shar. My faith is in those around me. In you, in our friends, and in our bond. We do have a bond.”
Her face softens, for but a moment, and her eyes turn desperate. “Please, don’t do this.”
Unfortunately, their bond was not as strong as it could be. Shadowheart practically growled, stepping forward and thrusting the spear. Sol, unable to leave Dame Aylin vulnerable, parries the blow, stepping forward and pushing Shadowheart back with an armored shoulder.
“Shadowheart, stop this!” Wyll yelled, wielding his own rapier, which glowed with the power of his patron. It was Karlach who grabbed his shoulder, shaking her head in a silent no, as she watched on with a mournful expression.
No one would interrupt for either side. This outcome was now between Sol and Shadowheart.
Once again, their weapons clashed, sword blade against metal spear, making sparks fly. Shadowheart’s eyes glowed green, the glow spreading down to her spear, as she slashed upwards suddenly. Sol hissed in pain as a bloody cut formed across her cheek and temple, alongside the sudden sensation of weakness. The cleric narrowed her eyes at Sol, and a moment later the magik struck: A terrible feeling of death, literally draining her life force, and forcing the paladin to a knee.
“No holding back,” Sol wheezed, pressing a hand to his chest. With a quick word in her people’s tongue, ‘relevo’, the feeling dissipated. A golden glow spread from her arm, and she stood again. Healed. “I’m hurt, Night Orchid.”
“Do not call me that!” She commanded, thrusting again. This time, Sol sidestepped it, slashing downwards to send the tip into the ground, and sliding her blade up the shaft in a flurry of sparks that forced Shadowheart to drop the weapon.
“I will not hurt you, Shadowheart,” she declared, standing tall. “If you want to become a Dark Justiciar, you will have to kill me, too.”
She snarled, raising her free hand towards Sol. Instead of targeting, the green power flashed in her eyes, and then in the undead corpses around Sol. The paladin had seen this spell enough times to recognize it.
“Dame Aylin, turn!” She yelled, rolling heavily to grab her shield again, then turning to face the glowing bodies. Not a moment later did they burst in deadly explosions of meat, bone, and blood, the magic turning the bodies into deadly projectiles. There was a sting somewhere in Sol’s arm.
Before she could act, Shadowheart lifted both hands, chanting in the magikal language of Faerun. Green smoke poured from her mouth and fingertips, into the remaining skeletons, bringing them back to life. Sol could only watch as half a dozen rose from the ground, bones snapping into place, jaws clacking eagerly, grabbing anything they could find as weapons.
“Fique em paz!” Sol yelled, extending her sword to the undead. The weapon shone gold, and the skeletons hissed in fear or disgust, retreating immediately.
So far, the two were at an impasse. Sol could counter anything Shadowheart threw at her. The two of them knew it.
“Why would you turn on me at the end?!” Shadowheart screamed, her voice shrill, yanking the spear out of the ground and charging again. Her moves were more aggressive than Sol was used to witnessing, shield and weapon pounding against her shield and armor.
The paladin raised the shield and arm, simply bearing the attacks like a punching bag. “You’ve never tried to be a murderer before me!” She yelled back, tilting her head to avoid a blow from the shield. “You’ve always defaulted to good. Even when you feigned reluctance.”
Sol inhales sharply, steeling herself, and mutters another incantation. Her golden light reflects on Dame Aylin’s skin, who is watching with gritted teeth. The paladin side steps, letting her friend stumble forward to the aasimar. Shadowheart’s eyes widen and, in desperation, she thrusts.
Both Selunite and Sharran watch, with surprise, as the spear tip clangs off Dame Aylin’s skin. For a moment, they stare at each other, breathing hard. Then Shadowheart turns to Sol, fuming.
“Sanctuary,” Sol answered without being prompted, wiping her brow and tossing her shield aside again. “So long as I do not hurt you,” she explained calmly. “You cannot hurt her. The enchantment will remain.”
“I will simply break it from you,” the half-elf declared, narrowing her eyes. “You think I cannot?”
“I think you can,” the paladin replies softly. Then she shocks Shadowheart by throwing her sword aside. “So, I give you Shar’s test. Everything you want is right here, Night Orchid.” She pats her chest, smiling tightly. “Kill me. No more leaving it to chance or tearing each other apart. Kill me, lift the spell, and take your prize.”
“No,” she snaps back, recoiling. “The test is with the Selunite. The daughter of the Moon Maiden! I don’t have to kill you.”
Sol drops to her knees, letting her arms hang. She shrugs. “Not anymore. I am her shield, yet I will not kill you. This is your test now.”
The cleric seems horrified as the implication settles. Sol’s spell will remain unbreakable. She has hijacked the trial. Her head turns to Wyll and Karlach, the former looking angry and the latter simply sad, then back to Sol. No one would stop her. All she had to do was kill Sol.
“You think me weak,” Shadowheart hissed, throwing her shield aside and lifting the spear in two hands, above Sol’s body. “You think me a coward. You think I cannot do this. Kill you? I’ve always been willing to kill.”
“You are strong,” Sol adds softly, smiling and lifting her arms harmlessly. “Maybe the strongest woman I know. You have changed my world for the better, Shadowheart.”
‘Shut up-”
“I would not have made it this far without you,” she continued, ignoring the half-elf’s pleas. “I would not remain myself; I would have broken my oath. You kept me sane. You kept me strong.”
“I said silence!” Shadowheart screamed, her voice trembling. “You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve been through!”
“I know you favor wine over any other drink,” Sol answered softly, her smile growing sincere and downright enchanted. “I know your favorite flower is the Night Orchid, my nickname for you. I know you linger at the edges of the party, swaying to the music, embarrassed. I know you enjoy control in our most private moments, to teach me the pleasures I do not know, and see me fall for you like my own goddess.”
“Stop it, please-”
“I know you fear wolves and the dark you claim to worship,” she continued, ignoring her companion’s pleas. “I know when you’re asleep, you crawl as close to me as you can, and after each battle, I’m the first warrior you check on. I know you care so deeply, so purely, and, by the gods, I wish you weren’t ashamed of such tenderness.”
“I’m warning you,” she yelled again, stepping closer, raising the spear all the way up.
“I know you’re scared of change,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “And that I love you, my Night Orchid.”
She breaks. Someone, perhaps Wyll, yells ‘No!’ and Shadowheart lets out a wretched scream that tears Sol’s heart apart. There is a flickering thought from the paladin, how much she regrets hurting this friend of hers, and then the spear strikes.
For a moment, there is nothing but silence. Then Sol opens her eyes. Shadowheart is looming over her, inches apart, and the spear shaft is beside the human’s head. Sol’s eyes follow the shaft, looking over to see the ground right behind her, where the tip has snapped from the shaft from Shadowheart’s attack.
Relief.
The half-elf pants harshly, eyes wide with shock, and then the corners of her eyes well with tears. She releases the broken spear and falls to her knees, wrapping her arms around Sol and sobbing.
“It’s okay,” Sol whispers, pressing her face into the cleric’s neck and inhaling deeply, her own powerful arms enveloping her lover. “I’m still here. You did not hurt me, Shadowheart.”
“I’m so sorry,” she croaks, throat raw, before cupping Sol’s cheeks and kissing her roughly. “I’m so sorry.”
But Sol was elated, relieved, and feeling so, so proud.
Her Night Orchid hadn’t chosen darkness after all. She hadn’t even chosen light.
She’d chosen love.