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Last night was horrible. And that doesn't even begin to cover it.
Perhaps words simply cannot express the unfathomable madness we've had to go through. Or perhaps I can't find the words to express it now with the rising sun gently touching my cheeks in the morning calm of a place not ridden with a shadow curse.
How distant it feels, the horrifying experience of the past few days in the innocent daybreak, its regularity sparking a sense of homesickness—to a simpler and more predictable time. Instead here we are, arriving just to Rivington, one step closer to facing our greatest challenges yet.
As we approach the suburb borders, I can feel my thoughts drifting, as they are inclined to do whenever I have a moment to breathe ever since I woke up on the beach in a Nautiloid wreckage. I can barely make out the bickering voices of Shadowheart and Astarion, seemingly in an argument about blonde hair.
Shadowheart's change in appearance added to the many surprises of the last twenty-four hours, but with the exception of it being a welcome one. I've been painfully aware of her struggles ever since we met, and perhaps realised much of what now has brought about her change before she did. I had sensed the injustice and deception surrounding her past, but it was never my place to tell her. Or perhaps I just couldn't allow myself to become yet another person who caused her distress. It may have been grace, but it felt like cowardice, mixed with a hint of sentimentality.
So, it was a much welcome surprise indeed to see her so gracefully start to embrace her true self, a step I know demanded much courage from her. I wished sincerely to hug her there and then, but knew better.
Embracing one's true self.
The thought sends a jolt of pain through my chest. I catch a glimpse of Gale's look of concern. The immense feeling of gratitude and affection for this man, who only a few nights ago reciprocated my feelings, flickers in my heart, but it is not enough to prevent the rush of thoughts from taking over my mind.
Deep down, I've always known that the Dream Visitor was hiding something from me. And I don't even mean the things he told me he couldn't tell me about. I can understand the need to keep the truth about the Prism and the githyanki prince from us. Hells, I can even understand the need to keep his true form a secret from us. I never would've considered trusting him if I knew. So, I can understand why he did what he did.
He knows, as I know, that his duty is to something bigger than all of us. Nothing of what he revealed to us last night negated his intentions. He may not have been completely upfront with us but he was always honest about what he was trying to achieve. He never lied about that.
So, why do I feel abandoned?
An all too familiar lump forms in my throat as we step into Rivington. My racing mind is temporarily stunned by the overwhelming amount of impressions assaulting my senses. After several demanding days in the empty desolation of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I thought the view of bustling roads, busy establishments and the loud chatter from the throngs of people would be a welcome sight. I was wrong. Instead it is enough to make me miss our time in the dark. Almost.
I take a deep breath and push down the volatile lump in my throat, as I've been used to do throughout my life. Pushing through, keep carrying on, showing no weakness. Always.
I hear Shadowheart and Astarion's argument end in something along the lines of agree to disagree as I gaze out over the busy town in an attempt to gain my bearings. It is impossible. Where do we even start? I'm longing to head back out into the forests, to nature. For me, that's always been so much easier to navigate than the confusing institutions of civilised society.
Without a word, I start walking in some direction, hoping my gut feeling will guide me. I can feel my weakened mental defences struggling to fight off the cacophony of voices and noises coming from every direction. Even the sun had turned against me now, its glaring fingers poking relentlessly at my one good eye.
My already distressingly tensed up body somehow manages to tense up even further at the reminder that I actually let that travelling idiot gouge my eye out. What was I thinking? When I find him again I will make him suffer for ruining the one thing I admired about my appearance: the colour of my eyes, bright and grey like the full moon. The one I see Gale get completely lost in whenever his gaze met mine.
With my irritability increased at the thought of this seemingly cosmetic, but nonetheless significant loss, I find myself close to succumb to the sensory nightmare that was this town. I feel the haunting thoughts that had temporarily been kept at bay come back in full strength.
How is it that I could feel so alone in a town full of people? I feel the tadpole squirm somewhere behind my eyes, as if it too feels overwhelmed, but by what I can't tell. Being reminded of its presence makes me feel sick for the first time in a long while. That familiar, exceedingly bitter feeling starts filling me. Regret.
I never truly believed exploiting the tadpole's powers would come without consequences, but I guess, somewhere deep inside, I wanted to trust him. Wanted to believe he came to my rescue when I needed it the most, when I felt so exposed and scared. Wanted someone to protect me, to look out for me. So, I did what he told me to. I placed my trust in him because I was desperate for a safe haven.
He hasn't technically betrayed you, my brain keeps trying to tell me. Then why did I feel my heart drop when he urged me to turn into the same thing that he was? When he told me to embrace the creature in my head and further evolve its powers? I felt its deep desire to accept the Emperor's offer, it was overwhelming, it almost won me over.
How could he have asked this of me?
At that moment, it was as if I lost someone dear to me. Because he wouldn't have put me in that position. The one I wanted to believe I knew. He was gone. That beautiful silver hair and chiselled jawline turned into the stuff of nightmares. His safe, commanding voice turned into a cold, pragmatic one: one that asked me to give up my soul, who I am, for something greater. Apparently, I was nothing more to him than a means to an end. Why does this upset me so much?
How short-sighted of me to think of feelings when he is doing what he thinks is best to save us all. The cocktail of emotions clawing at my chest is unbearable. One moment I feel ashamed to have been so naive, the next I feel an overwhelming grief at having lost something I never had. How was I supposed to keep going in the face of this indescribable adversity? How was I supposed to keep my fears at bay?
This is too much.
Even for me.
With a pitiful whimper, I fall to my knees as the dams crack and burst open, overpowered by the flood of tears.
"Lára!" I vaguely perceive Gale's panicked exclamation before hearing him crash down next to me and feeling his trembling touch on my back.
"He's gone!" I don't have the strength to stay in control anymore, unable to care about what I will do or what will happen to me.
"Come, bring her off the streets. Quickly!" The concern in Shadowheart's voice would've been heartwarming had I been susceptible to any positive feelings at the moment.
I feel the ground under me disappear as I am lifted up by a pair of strong arms. In between pathetic sobs, I look up to catch Gale's face behind my tears. I've never seen him so distressed, even in the face of all we've had to go through this far. He sets me down in the shade of a big tree.
Even as my whole body is trembling from my uncontrollable sobs, my highly trained vigilance detects confusion and concern around me. And no small level of discomfort, some from Shadowheart, I'm sure, but mainly from Astarion, I can only assume. Gale gestures to our companions and I sense them slowly depart.
I can't remember ever having felt as wretched as I'm feeling in this moment. Days of unbelievable strife, the despair pushed down to be able to keep going—it was all coming, tearing up through the surface as the events of last night broke the camel's back. I am so pathetic. This is the mighty leader they expect to rally against the might of the Chosen and the Absolute? We all might as well start digging our graves.
I suddenly sense a presence in my mind, like a soft knock that manages to halt the terrible downward spiralling that my mind is engaging in. I recognise it from the hints of crackling fireplaces, the flipping through of old books and magnificent northern lights that it's emitting.
Gale.
He is trying to reach me because his voice had been unable to. The beginning of a calmness slowly finds its way through my body as his presence alone manages to calm down the most violent of eruptions inside me.
When I admit his mind into mine, I almost lose my breath as I am enveloped by a torrent of feelings that isn't mine. A frustrating helplessness, a desperate desire to comfort, seemingly endless adoration, and a burning passion take over my senses before I open my eyes with a gasp. In front of me I meet the eyes of a man sharing my pain. If I felt the powerful wave of his emotions, he must have felt mine.
Oh, how I hate to be the cause of the despair in his look. I can't stand the idea of being the one to break his otherwise unbreakable cheerful disposition. Whenever I'd felt the ground beneath me shake and threaten to crack open and swallow me whole, it had saved me every time. With an unbearably silly joke or a cheeky smile, he had kept me from going under.
A warm feeling emerges in my heart and quickly spreads, taking hold of my entire chest as the realisation hits me—the very thing that I thought I had lost, the very thing I thought I never had, is sitting right here, trembling in front of me. My source of courage and safety, who was currently pouring all that he had over me, desperate to try and pull me out of my own darkness. His presence feels like a balm to my soul, reminding me of how brave I am to let myself feel the burden of what we've had to go through, and what was yet to come. That I have nothing to be ashamed of. That he loves me.
I manage to regain enough control over my body to lift a trembling hand to his face, softly caressing his cheek. He lifts his hand to grab onto mine, holding it tightly. My relief seems to match his as the heavy cloud that had been hovering over his beautiful, puppy dog face is lifted.
As he embraces me, holding me close to him, afraid to let go, I am filled with a hope that was so unthinkable to me just a few moments ago. Now I know that I have my safe haven, and if providence will allow me to keep him by my side, I daresay we might make it out of this terrible nightmare.
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