One or two hours had passed with no luck in her search. Nyx found herself on the cliff overlooking the Chionthar river, Wyrm's crossing to the left and open waters to her right. Worry nagged at her, but she'll wait a little longer before raising the alarm.

Perhaps he went out on a long hunt.

Her gaze settled on the river below. Sunset had arrived; the air was still, and no one was around. Nyx settled herself to watch the ships make their way to and fro. She laid down her whiskers and was immediately annoyed.

So much for grounding.

Her whiskers had been misbehaving lately, and Nyx had yet to determine the cause. Or rather, admit to herself what they truly were. They had changed after the journey through the Shadowcursed lands. Now, they wafted around her; delicate spindles, brushing against the surrounding trees and rocks. Momentarily attaching themselves and then releasing to waft elsewhere - like spiderwebs. Before her thoughts could turn dark at the admittance, familiar movements brushed against them.

"Bellinor", she greeted as he drifted closer. He didn't reply, and she patted the ground next to her. He eased himself onto the ground wordlessly, not meeting her gaze. They watched the fishing boats return to the shipyards, sailing to docks on opposing sides of the river.

Astarion cleared his throat and asked in a near whisper, "You've once mentioned that you think a person's deeds are what make them a monster." He paused. "Do you think I'm a monster?"

Small, shadowy fishermen were bustling about on the docks. Nyx regarded the sunset, the river meeting it at the horizon. She said plainly, "I'd give you the same answer had you that directed at me."

He shifted nervously, and she gave him a small reassuring smile before continuing. "I've had my committed my fair share of monstrous deeds too. So, do I consider myself a monster? Yes, and no."

His brows knit. Nyx knew full well that was not the answer he wanted - but as she had come to learn herself - it was one he would need to make peace with.

Sitting here, she'd been thrown into Astarion's graceless truth. An entity she knew well. The graceless truth was a merciless mentor, laying bare all parts of you - exposed and vulnerable to the pain of purging. A crucial part of the cycle of purification. Its heat has burned through her own lies and the lies of others, surfacing cold truths that chilled her very core. It packed her into the earth, dark and alone with both until she came to terms with them. Only then did she break through the soil, gasping for air - a blissful, short-lived freedom until the cycle repeated.

I've gone through the phoenix cycle so many times, and it does not get easier - even knowing what's to come. At least I have you here with me this time. And I am here to help with yours.

Nyx took a steadying breath. "When I was a child, my mother had - hm... No, that's probably not the right way to start." She picked up a twig nearby, snapped it in half and tossed it down the cliff.

He waited, and she tried again. "I always dreamt of what it would be like to find my parents. The silly childlike hope bloomed each time we stumbled into a new village and the caravan stopped over. The hope that my parents would recognise me in the street and they would to take me home. And I suppose that did happen to some degree. But little did I know, the dream would be twisted into a self serving nightmare... When my powers started to mature; my mother was able to reach me." She tapped the side of her head. "Told me that I was her daughter, and that she had been looking for me for so very long. After 'finally finding' me, she'll come to take me home... Those may have been the only truths she'd ever spoken."

Nyx chuckled bitterly. "Sounds ludicrous thinking back on it now, the obviousness of her ploy. And so, she used the power from the portal to ensnare my mind. Dragged me into a wonderful fantasy she had built for me." Nyx gestured in front of her, wistful. "One where she had found the caravan and taken me away. We had a house, a family - a home. All of it. Brothers and sisters, carefree days playing, all the happiness I could ever have imagined. My dream came true."

Emotions bubbled up from the deep well of sadness inside Nyx. She swallowed hard, now being the one not able to make eye contact. She let the busyness at the docks distract her from the beckoning of black tendrils.

"Ugh," Astarion sneered at the sunset. "Cazador's version of a family was anything but, as you can imagine."

Nyx nodded and forged on. "I was playing 'pretend family', all the while my body lay in a coma in the real world. It took Keetjah and Sanika several tendays to break through my mother's wards to reach the corner of my mind where she had constructed the false life. By that time she had primed me in several ways... Lies. So many lies, and I was caught in its endless web. Dearest mother had torn down everything I knew to be true and replaced it with the twisted version that served her best." Nyx threw another twig down into the encroaching shadow. "Said that Keetjah and Sanika were there to kill her and take me away." She sighed, gathering her will, her voice threatened with the rawness of emotion. Demons stirred at the periphery of the portal. "She had taught me how to use some of my powers. And I did."

Graces I did.

"I did things to them." Nyx was clenching her fists and took another ragged breath to steady her voice. "Unforgivable things. And for whatever reason, Keetjah and Sanika did not give up. Loyalty that I didn't believe I deserved." Her voice became stronger at the memory of Keetjah and Sanika freeing her with the resilience of true warriors. Nyx didn't consider herself religious, but something akin to a prayer left her lips. "Whatever gods, fates or graces - bestow Keetjah and Sanika blessings for it." Nyx sent those blessings into the night air with a wave of her hand, hoping they'll be carried to them. "They managed to regroup and counter whatever idea my mother planted in my mind that set me against them anew. Eventually, they got through to me and showed me who my mother truly was. Broke her hold and sealed the portal. Silencing her voice for a time."

Nyx shook her head at the naivety and rubbed her forehead. "I woke up in the real world again and thought I'd survived the worst of it. But my magic and I were a wreck. I had to self-isolate for weeks at a time, on-and-off until I learned to control my emotions and my powers. Never quite fully trusted myself around other people for decades."

The docks had gone quiet, and a few solemn ships made their way across the water. Nyx brought her thoughts back to the point of her story. "So, am I a monster? Yes and no." She stole a cautionary glance at him, and he inclined his head, urging her to finish. "Yes, since there is a part of my nature I cannot deny. The portal has an influence on me, one way or another. My powers are borne from chaos. I've learnt," Nyx scoffed at herself and amended her statement. "I'm still learning to accept that part... I do refuse to walk the path it beckons." Something visceral prickled through her body, her magic raising its hackles.

Am I a monster?

"Also no. I will not be like my mother in any way. I will not be the toy she meant for me to be either. I will not become the monster she wanted to mould me into." Nyx felt her defiance and resolution set in. She looked over at Astarion, met his eyes and said, "For me, there is also a part of your nature that I'll need to make peace with as well. I suppose it goes for both of us. But I've seen you grow and choose not to do the things Cazador had once forced you to. So, from my perspective, you have also made some decisions regarding which path you'd choose to walk."

Nyx's resolve fled with her sigh, and she mumbled, "Not sure if I made any sense just now."

"Gods," he spat at the horizon. Nyx barely suppressed her startle, a hand over her heart.

He said onto her, "Quite the opposite, my dear. You do 'make too much sense'. You'd always had this uncanny understanding of things." Astarion moved forward to drape one leg over the edge of the cliff, resting an arm on the other's propped up knee. Mulling into the darkness below, he said, "I sometimes feel like I've been divinely singled out. Or in my special case, devilishly singled out - thank you very much." A long slender finger cut the night to point at himself, then at her, and the gesturing divulged into swooping motions at the scenery. "Why me? You? Even Karlach, for that matter. Why do so many others just get to waltz around in blissful ignorance for their whole lives while the rest of us get handed turds by the bucket?"

Nyx chuckled darkly and shrugged. "I've driven myself to resentment and back on exactly that thought. I've found there are no real answers, and there is no value in trying to get it either." She crossed her legs and leaned back to lookup at the stars. "Acceptance, not 'forgiveness', has served me better. A long and winding road - but better..."

"Hmph," Astarion didn't sound convinced and scowled at the river. "I wonder where they were when it mattered? Them and their 'brilliantly obvious solutions' to my 'seemingly simplistic problems'."

"Like you said, 'Ignorance is bliss'. And equally dangerous." Nyx pursed her lips. "They have some food for thought tonight, though. I can guarantee that. It's hard to be confronted with someone else's cruel reality and not reflect on your own misplaced assumptions."

"Serves them right," he declared, sticking his nose in the air. "Let them have a restless sleep and wake up to find bags under their eyes stretching all the way to the hells."

Nyx snorted, and a smile quirked her lips at the image he painted in her head.

He sighed and quipped over his shoulder, "Care to join me and live a little dangerously yourself?" Motioning for her to sit next to him on the ledge swinging his leg for good effect.

"Tempting as that is. I have developed a great respect for sudden drops, and would rather refrain from testing my luck near cliffs given my proclivity of falling over or being yanked off them lately."

A wry chuckle responded. "My sweet, you'll have to pass me that list of yours for Cazador's demise."

She gave him a quizzical frown.

His demeanour became predatory. "Your mother has racked up quite a bit of qui pro quo herself." One hand demonstrated his intent with imaginary stabbing and twisting movements.

Their grins matched when Nyx replied, "Once we're done dealing with your asshole, we can move onto mine."

"Extra bloody." The wicked grin dropped, and he stood gracefully to dust himself off. "Now, my dearest Nyx, R'hunni'vah. I tire of solving the world's problems for this evening."

She nodded sagely.

"Fancy a stroll? It's lovely tonight, which deserves equally lovely company. Even if I do say so myself, present company included, of course."

Nyx laughed freely and quipped, taking his hand, "I would enjoy that very much, Erenerhym."

--- --- ---

Tav huddled closer to the fire; a chill had crept into the night air. Magic lights floated above her head while she squinted at the Gazettes and her reports. She had caught Nyx leaving camp out of the corner of her eye a few hours prior. Nyx had not said a word during dinner, and her dark calm belying troubled waters running beneath. Astarion hadn't returned either.

Tav would need to make amends on all their behalves - they were too quick to condemn him. She didn't even want to think about what she would have done in his place. What it must have been like. Instead, she took up her quill, and her words poured onto the page, her heart overflowing with conflicted feelings she was determined to quell.

24, Elient

 

I cannot deny the striking resemblance of my current entry to one a near tenday before. It seems like a lifetime ago that I'd pondered the outcome of our efforts at Moonrise Towers. Now, my concerns are reflected in Baldur's Gate as sure as the moon shines above.

The city too has become enthralled by the political machinations of Gortash. Were it not for the unrest; the hearts and efforts of our people would have rested with preparations for Highharvestide. He has gained a disproportionate influence on the Gate in a frighteningly short amount of time, propelled by the death of Ketheric and that of the leaderless army - defeated at the feet of Gortash's own inventions churned out by Gondian's finest. 'Automata' to keep the city safe, backed by The Hall of Wonders and the Duke himself. The Chosen have gained a foothold that we must uproot.

 

I hope that our fortune as guided by Tymora's dice roll and our own guile would be enough to match the remaining Chosen. Just as Ketheric, we must recruit our own allies and turn the tables when no one would be looking, where no one would think to look.

General Ketheric Thorm was a brilliant strategist on all accounts, his reports and diaries cataloguing how he both recruited and united an army of unlikely constituents; species and races that would not have been thought to work together. And yet through goading, tadpoling or outright murder of key players from each race, he not only secured fighters but fanatics loyalty to the Absolute. Z'rell helped lead the Goblin priestess astray and her tribe followed suit, Gnolls were turned by force, the King of Bitterroot clan slayed to beckon Duergar to Ketheric's cause, even Minthara was goaded from the Underdark only to be ensnared by a new god and used as a pawn.

Played like puppets on a string, dancing to the tune of the Dead Three's Chosen. I fear how far Gortash's reach will extend with an enthralled Duke Ravengard at his side. If it were me, I'd set the Duke to work, smiling while he himself recruits the willing, desperate and deprived members of the Gate's political scene to my plans. Tymora knows there is no shortage of them. Florrick's training has served me well, but I did not expect to be wielding it to save my city from itself. I know I cannot do it alone.

 

We have already sent word to Jaheira and the Harpers. I hope to reach Florrick and Aedric as well. From there we can build, combine forces and strike from the shadows. Gortash's 'unwanteds' will become our champions, and we will show that the Gate's true heart and fighters lie within the common folk - not with Gortash and his pretenders. The Lord of Tyranny's quill will work as hard as his Steel Watch, writing deceit into every contact and promise. But we already know the heart of his plan. He will not only recruit mindless hosts, but people bent to his cause through greed, and the illusion of choice - puppets thinking themselves puppeteers.

 

I look upon my city and feel the weight of it all. Tymora teaches that luck is a coin with two faces: today’s feast, tomorrow’s famine. We have toppled Ketheric, survived the cursed shadows, and danced with death beside Myrkul. Yet here in the Gate, it feels almost impossible that we would be able to convince our fellow Baldurians that a greater storm gathers beyond their basic needs. They squabble over admittance to the Upper City, over whether refugees may sleep under a roof, while an Elder Brain slowly consumes all of us.

 

Still, there is one thing I am sure of: Baldur’s Gate is a city of gamblers and dreamers, poets and cutthroats. Its people risk their necks on bad dice rolls and worse deals, but somehow, by Tymora’s hand, the city endures. And so will we. I will play my part: historian with my quill, bard with my song, gambler with my heart. If luck abandons us - at least I will have written the truth and hope others more able will find it before the Dead Three swallow the Sword Coast.

I pray the dice fall favourably. May these words be read in brighter days, when the Gate still stands and the Elder Brain is but only a campfire tale.

Gale's shadow fell over her pages, and she found him smiling down at her, blanket in hand. "No rest for the wicked.", he chuckled as he draped the patchwork fabric over her knees. "Try not to stay up all night."

She laughed and thanked him. "Hopefully, I won't be much longer. I want to speak to Astarion otherwise I'll only keep you awake; tossing and turning."

"Hmm, I'd sleep better for it too, knowing that I won't wake with a dagger in my back." He stroked his beard, considering. "Or poison in my soup."

Tav gasped. "She won't do that."

"Oh? I'd really not want to get on her bad side." He said seriously, wagging a pointed finger, but then his face lightened up. "I'll warm the bed.", and he shuffled to their tent.

Tav considered his remarks and decided.

Right, I'll check in with them both. I'd prefer to steer their lethal, albeit invaluable, talents toward the Elder Brain instead.

---

Tav's eyelids were heavy from reading notes, journals and other reports found in the mindflayer colony. She cross-referenced them with everything else she had gathered about the situation in the city. Her head was swimming, trying to put together what the Chosen might do next.

We need to get ahead of them somehow.

Although Tav didn't know Gortash personally, he felt more familiar, and Tav could trace his handiwork, but the Chosen of Bhaal had remained illusive. At the moment, she could only guess their next move.

I don't want to guess. I need more information. Rope in the others to help find it.

Her swirling thoughts were mercifully interrupted by Nyx and Astarion returning to camp, arm-in-arm. Tav took a steeling breath, but suddenly felt she needed something stronger for courage. Yet she rose to meet them. Fortunately, both seemed to be back to their usual selves - including Astarion sticking his nose in the air when Tav neared.

Nyx's expectant glance was akin to elbowing him in the ribs. "Hear her out, won't you?"

"Ugh, fine. Out with it then."

Nyx shook her head.

Tav gave her most heartfelt apology, which Astarion accepted primly and said, "I hope you've told the rest of them I expect one from each of them too."

"I was hoping mine would cover it; not everyone is as graceful about these things as you and I."

He arched an eyebrow at her and inspected his nails. "Alright, I won't drag it out. I'd want to focus on killing the bastard."

"We are in agreement on that account." Tav bid them goodnight, her heart at ease, she saw herself to her bedroll.

--- --- ---

Nyx admired how the early morning rays cut through the fog that had settled on the river. Their group was getting ready to head out for the day.

"Eek!" A high-pitched cry carried over the camp.

She rounded the chicken coop to find Tav standing in front of her own half packed tent. Gale's magic primed for whatever had startled her. Tav waved him down while the others drew closer, but before anyone could ask what happened, a long nose popped out of the tent flap. Its whiskers quivered, sniffing the air, and the owner sprang from the tent. The beady eyes of a huge grey rat with a torn ear stared back at them. Tav glared at it accusingly, fists on her hips. A series of squeaks came from it, making both Halsin and Karlach's eyebrows bob.

Halsin chuckled and announced, "Yes, you have found Tav's nest. One moment." He rummaged through their communal chest and proffered a plate of 'incentives'. The rat joined him on the campfire log, and Halsin relayed the conversation while sharing an apple, cheese and bread with the rat. "Everyone, this is Notch. He says he works for Jaheira."

Tav's eyes widened, and she greeted him. "It's good to meet you, Notch. You gave me quite the fright there, seeing the tent started move by itself."

Notch bared his incisors as though grinning, beady eyes glittering in delight.

She smiled back. "I'm very impressed you found us so quickly."

He puffed out his tiny chest, and Halsin said, "He has been working for the Harpers since he was a pup and only gets deployed on the most important missions."

Nyx shared amused glances with the others.

Tav grinned. "Let's talk business."

The rat nodded fervently. "Jaheira has applied for more passes, and will have them for us after noon today."

"What about Chancellor Florrick and Aedric Stoneshield?"

"No word, Jaheira will keep trying. Wyrm Keep in," Halsin paused while Notch scratched his ear. "Disarray."

"How?"

Notch scrunched his nose. He and Halsin spoke for several rounds before they reached an understanding. Halsin explained to Tav, "Notch doesn't seem to quite grasp why things are in disarray. He was merely told to say that, but from what I gather there are changes being made at the Keep."

Tav sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gortash's doing most likely."

Notch hissed at the word 'Gortash', and Tav smiled. "I take that means 'yes'. Alright, thank you, Notch, and send my regards to Jaheira. We will see you later?"

Notch stuffed his cheeks with the last of the incentives and scurried away.

Tav watched him go and turned to her companions. "Well, that's that then. We meet back here before noon?"

Karlach bounded on her toes and said, "Aw yeah! I'm going to the circus. Want to join, soldiers?"

A connecting chapter of sorts... via another Tav entry to bring together all the disparate parts of the many, many snippets of information scattered around BG3. There is simply too much for me to do the same drip-feeding, thus we're getting a quick summary of what is known so far and I can build on it moving forward.

A moodier chapter too, and I hope I managed to portray the clumsiness of these types of conversations earlier in the chapter. Hopefully on the 'human' side of clumsy, and not the silly side (ᵕ — ᴗ —) Not sure if these turned out exactly they way I wanted, but meh - I write and I learn.

Fog by Carl Sandburg, 1878 – 1967

The fog comes  
on little cat feet.

It sits looking  
over harbor and city  
on silent haunches  
and then moves on.