Chapter Text
The rest of Shadowheart’s journey was uneventful. Days of travel blurred together, while Shadowheart came alive in the dreamscape. In their little library, Elody had taken to writing in that mysterious book of hers. Shadowheart had tried to peek a couple of times, but had failed miserably. Elody was quick to slam the book shut every time she could catch a glimpse of the page.
”Fine,” Shadowheart had finally huffed in mock frustration, ”be that way. I’ll find out your secrets sooner or later.”
Elody had only responded with a wink.
One night, lying on the rug, Elody’s head resting on Shadowheart’s chest, they made a concrete plan of where and when they were to meet.
”I’ll be arriving in Baldur’s Gate in approximately five days,” Elody said, unable to conceal a wide grin that brought sweet wrinkles to the corners of her eyes.
”Me, too.” Shadowheart smiled right back at her. ”Maybe six, if I have to take an extra rest day. Which I might…”
”Running low on energy?” Elody asked, setting her hand to rest on Shadowheart’s chest.
Shadowheart nodded. ”Travelling on horseback is surprisingly hard work.”
”Just think about all the good it’s doing for your thighs. And ass.” Elody’s hands wandered down Shadowheart’s body. Shadowheart swatted her hands away.
”Behave yourself, love,” she said, her tone jestfully stern. ”We’re planning something, remember?”
They agreed to meet at the Elfsong, down in the pub. Elody was likely to arrive first, so she would book a room and then wait at a corner table for Shadowheart to arrive.
The fact that the plan was set sent Shadowheart’s head reeling. It wouldn’t be long now. She was so close to everything she’d ever wanted.
Since then, they started to count down the nights. The first thing they’d say as they both appeared in the library was a single number.
”Three!” they’d greeted each other one night, as Shadowheart woke up on the settee.
The giggles were real as they revelled in the excitement. Only three nights until waking life would bring them together. Shadowheart pressed her forehead tenderly against Elody’s.
”Three nights too many,” she murmured.
Elody captured Shadowheart’s lips with hers, pulling her closer by the waist.
”I can’t seem to be able to think about anything else of late,” Elody said between kisses. ”My head is full of only you.”
There was no height high enough to explain where Shadowheart’s heart was lifted by Elody’s words. Her very soul sprouted wings whenever Elody was near, and her words of adoration set it aflight.
”My love,” she trailed her lips down Elody’s neck. ”Not a day goes by that I’m not entirely consumed by thoughts of you.”
It was sometimes rather scary how much she thought about Elody. While riding, she daydreamed about their meeting, how she would take Elody in her arms, perhaps pick her up and twirl. How she would kiss Elody, for the first time in real life, not in a dream. How she would take Elody into their shared room in the Elfsong and show her how much pent up love she had to give…
All of that would come to pass so very soon.
*****
It was two nights before she was set to arrive, when Shadowheart had an unexpected guest in her camp.
The sun was starting to set on their rest day. Its dimming rays filtered through the lower branches of the fir trees around the campsite. Shadowheart was finishing dinner, feeding Scratch some of her scraps. The shepherd was happy to receive the leftovers of her sausages. From the darkening woods, a beautiful creature hopped hesitantly towards Shadowheart and Scratch. The large black bird stopped a few metres away from them, tilting its head from side to side and eyeing the last bits of food in Shadowheart’s bowl.
”Hi there, friend,” Shadowheart addressed the raven in a calm voice.
The bird cocked its head in curiosity, its ink-black eyes meeting Shadowheart’s gaze. Scratch whined, sitting beside Shadowheart, tapping his paws against the ground. Shadowheart grabbed him by the collar.
”Don’t scare it away, Scratch. If you get too friendly too quickly, it might take off.”
The raven took a few steps forward, its eyes darting back and forth between Shadowheart and the scraps of her dinner.
”You go ahead,” Shadowheart murmured. She pushed her bowl forward with her foot. ”Dinner’s served.”
Slowly, the bird moved closer to the bowl, but hunger was stronger than any hesitation. Soon, the raven was pecking at the turnips and gravy.
A rather sad dinner, Shadowheart thought. She reached for her backpack and pulled out another dried sausage. She tossed it on the ground, close to the raven. The bird flinched back, but quickly recovered from the shock, tearing into the sausage with gusto.
”That’s better, isn’t it?”
Shadowheart was thrilled to be interacting with the gorgeous creature. Many nights ago, Elody had told her the story of bonding with a raven during her travels. She couldn’t wait to tell Elody about this.
*****
Waking up in the library, Shadowheart eagerly looked around to see whether Elody was already there. The room was quiet, apart from the crackle of the fire, forever burning in the fireplace.
There had always been something bright and warm in the dreamscapes. The first one had been a sunny hillside with a gentle breeze breaking the heat of the midday sun. The campfire on the beach had been the next source of light and warmth in the dream. That was when their friendship had really turned into something else. In the light of the campfire, their love had budded. Timid, tentative, but it had been there. It had only been in the library, by the fireplace, where Shadowheart had had the courage to say it out loud.
How she longed to utter those words to Elody during the day! Perhaps they could take a walk up on the hills, near the barley fields and the old windmill. The midday sun would make Elody’s hair glisten with hues of copper. They could sit on the cliff overlooking the city. And Shadowheart could take Elody’s hand, kiss her knuckles, and murmur those three words for only her to hear.
Shadowheart was swept into a world of daydreams. When Elody hadn’t appeared after her fantasies had all but run dry, Shadowheart tried to figure out how and why the dreamscape had changed along the way. Yet, no matter how long she pondered, Elody wasn’t arriving.
This must’ve been how Elody felt that night I didn’t sleep, Shadowheart thought.
Oh, how uncomfortable it was to be alone in that magical place where Shadowheart had spent the happiest moments of her life!
She’d never had to intentionally keep herself busy in any dreamscape. Elody was often already there, and, if she wasn’t, she would arrive relatively soon after Shadowheart. And, with Elody there, there was no need to come up with things to do; with her, existing in the same space was enough. There was no need for activities as such. Staring at the fire, exploring the ever-growing catalogue of books and maps, and finding solace in each other were enough. And, for Elody, there was much to write in that secret book of hers.
Without Elody, the library was hollow. There was too much space in the room, when Elody wasn’t occupying some of it. The place was too vast without Elody’s arms fencing Shadowheart in safely. In only one single room, Shadowheart was afraid she’d get lost, if she moved from the settee.
So she sat all night. It was okay. It had happened to Elody before, so Shadowheart could also endure it.
The morning broke and Shadowheart moved along. One more night until she’d reach Baldur’s Gate. She stayed amongst the fortress ruins at Wyrm’s Lookout. She’d told Elody about the place, pointing it on a map in the library a few nights prior as a good place to camp for a night.
When she arrived at Wyrm’s Lookout, she was thrilled to see relatively fresh ashes and coals surrounded by a ring of stones, placed there no more than a couple days prior. Perhaps Elody had arrived a little earlier than expected. The thought of sharing a campsite with her, albeit some time after her, made Shadowheart’s stomach light up with tender flames of anticipation.
Elody did not show up that night, either.
This time, Shadowheart didn’t only sit in one place. Last night, the room had been too vast. Tonight, Shadowheart paced along the bookshelves like a caged circus animal looking to break away from its confines. Her heart was doing the same, eagerly attempting to find a way to escape her ribcage. Her blood was rushing in her ears, making her dizzy. But she never stopped pacing, as if walking now would make the journey shorter, come morning.
It’s fine. Elody’s probably nervous, so she’s suffering from a bout of insomnia, Shadowheart thought. Tomorrow, I shall go to the Elfsong and find her there, and everything will be well.
It was this thought that she clung to, that she would meet Elody tomorrow. She’d get to hold Elody in her arms and kiss her in the world, where others would see them together and be warmed by bearing witness to their love.
Tomorrow seemed forever away.
*****
Shadowheart was at the gates of Wyrm’s Crossing bright and early, before the City Watch had opened the passage. The fortress was still being rebuilt, with wooden scaffolding around the towers and workmen hauling huge pieces of stone to be used to repair the structure.
The watchman opening the gate recognized Shadowheart instantly.
”A hero of Baldur’s Gate, coming through!” the man hollered, and the passage was cleared for Shadowheart and her companions. Nobody made a fuss over the fact that both of her animal friends were much larger than an average peacock.
Her first order of business was to take Cinna to the stables. The place was easy to find, with a large sign adorned with moon motifs hanging off the wall.
The stablemaster was happy to take Cinna in. The gelding was soon crunching on some barley in his stall. Shadowheart tipped the stablemaster handsomely, while promising Cinna that she’d come see him again, soon.
Cinna said nothing in return.
As she walked out of the stables, it occurred to Shadowheart that she probably smelled like horse and campfire smoke. Not quite the perfume she’d want to emanate when she met Elody for the first time.
Frequented by adventurers, Fraygo’s Flophouse had bathing facilities. It was still early, so Shadowheart allowed herself to soak in the tub for a little longer than usual. Scratch rested his nose on the edge of the tub.
”Scratch, we’re about to go meet someone special today,” Shadowheart said, stroking his head. ”You’ll love Elody. She’s very kind and sweet.”
Scratch gave her a side-eyed look. Shadowheart giggled. ”You’re also kind and sweet, my darling boy. I know she’ll absolutely adore you, too.”
Shadowheart had paid extra careful attention to her appearance when she’d first visited the House of the Moon. It had felt symbolic, looking her best as she’d entered the place her parents had considered sacred. Because of that, it was sacred to Shadowheart, too.
Personally, Shadowheart no longer held any god higher than another. She bowed to none of them and all of them the same, out of respect and convention.
Well, aside from Shar, she thought. Fuck her to the hells and back.
What was sacred to Shadowheart, then, if no place of worship or its deity?
Elody.
Elody was sacred.
She was the only one deserving of Shadowheart’s reverence. And, for her, Shadowheart wanted to look her best. Not only to charm her, but to honour her. Her eyes deserved to see Shadowheart at her most beautiful.
So, today, Shadowheart applied her makeup with meticulous care, and plaited her platinum hair just so. For Elody.
She hadn’t packed anything particularly pretty to wear on a date. Her camp clothes were already rather tattered and had only been washed in forest streams for days. Luckily, she knew just where to go.
”Welcome back to Carm’s Garms! We’ve got clothes to match your charms!” Carmen hollered from the cashier’s desk.
Shadowheart smiled. She’d worked on her rhymes.
”Oh, but don’t I know you?” Carmen raised an eyebrow. ”You’re one of those adventurers who saved Baldur’s Gate! I told Entharl next door I’d served you before, but he wouldn’t believe me. And you’ve returned! How can I help you?”
Shadowheart’s eyes wandered around the shop. ”Umm… I’ve got a date. I need something that’s… not covered in leaves and campfire smoke.”
Carmen clapped her hands together. ”Ah, I have just the thing! You’ll be stunning, my dear. Absolutely stunning.”
*****
The closer Shadowheart got to the Elfsong Tavern, the harder her heart beat in her chest. The collar of her forest green shirt seemed to tighten around her neck. Her brown leather corset pressed uncomfortably into her ribs.
But none of that compared to the joy that surrounded her!
The whole way, Shadowheart glanced around, hoping to see a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd. Perhaps Elody was also on her way to the Elfsong, having been out for clothes or…
”Fresh flowers! A bouquet for you, miss?” A loud, friendly voice interrupted Shadowheart’s train of thought.
A young woman, a girl, more like, was standing by a stall, selling bouquets of wildflowers.
”Miss, would you like some flowers?” she repeated, offering Shadowheart a lovely bunch of multicoloured flowers, blooms autumn breezes hadn’t yet frozen.
”What do you think, Scratch? Would Elody like these?” Shadowheart accepted the bouquet offered to her.
Scratch’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and he wagged his tail. Shadowheart took that as a yes, and tossed the flower girl a piece of gold.
The Elfsong was busy. Lunchtime was in full swing and the tavern was filled with cacophonous chatter and clinking of plates and glasses. Shadowheart was certain her knees would buckle under the weight of her nerves. Her eyes darted around the room. The corner table at the back of the tavern was empty. Elody wasn’t there yet.
Shadowheart weaved through the crowded room. Scratch attracted some attention from the patrons, but only a look at Shadowheart seemed to tell most of them that he had a special permission to be in the city. It seemed that most people in Baldur’s Gate knew who she was.
She set the bouquet on the table. Scratch curled up and dozed off under the table.
A couple of men approached Shadowheart with curious yet eager eyes.
”A pint for the hero of Baldur’s Gate!” a dwarf man with a plaited beard hollered at the barkeep.
”Thank you, but I’m actually waiting for someone,” Shadowheart said, her eyes fixed on the front door.
Thankfully, the blokes took the hint and returned to sit by the bar, although they did continue to throw occasional glances of intrigue at Shadowheart.
Lunchtime turned into dinnertime. Scratch was getting impatient. He pawed at Shadowheart’s leg, whining. A helpful stranger offered to take him outside and walk with him around the block. Shadowheart sat at the table, patiently waiting. As the door opened when the stranger and Scratch returned, Shadowheart’s stomach dropped. Still no Elody.
The light outside the small, leaded windows was slowly fading into darkness.
In the corner of the hazy tavern, Shadowheart waited for her lover to arrive. Each time the door opened, her heart picked up its pace, only to ache with disappointment.
The flowers on top of the table were starting to wilt.
The tavern remained devoid of Elody.
Last call was fast approaching. Only the most seasoned drunkards were still there, dozing off against the bar. The most seasoned drunkards — and Shadowheart.
Shadowheart couldn’t make herself move. Her body had fused to the bench she was sitting on. She could barely feel her limbs. The whole tavern was a blurry haze around her. A realization was trying its hardest to push through into her consciousness, one she had been willfully ignoring for days now. When the barkeep came to tell her to leave the premises, she had no other choice but to stop lying to herself.
Elody wasn’t coming.
*****
Love is a lie.
The cold, callous voice in her mind was immediate. It filled every sinew of her being with an icy dread.
She was on her feet, stumbling through the dark room. Her shins hit seats around the tables on the way, but she felt no pain.
No pain compared to that in her chest. It constricted her throat and left her short of breath.
There was no air, where Elody was not.
Shadowheart ran through the darkened streets, with Scratch loping beside her. She didn’t stop until she reached her camp at Wyrm’s Lookout.
”You have some nerve, showing your face here again, Shadowheart.” A familiar voice greeted her.
Shadowheart jumped at the sudden voice. From the shady corners of the ruins, clocked figures emerged, their faces covered with familiar white masks.
Why couldn’t they just leave her be?
Defeated, Shadowheart had half a mind of simply giving in. What was left of her world, anyhow? Where would she go without Elody by her side?
”What do you want from me?” She didn’t bother to sound any less broken than she truly was. There was no need to look at her assassins. Her head was too heavy, and it hung down, her eyes fixed on her toes.
”What’s this? Did someone finally break you?” one of the Sharrans asked. The voice was rather familiar. Perhaps it was Hyrald.
”Hmm… We’ll have to send a thank you note to whomever did it,” another sentry snickered. This one Shadowheart didn’t know.
”Aww… Did the world without the Dark Lady quite match our Shadowheart’s expectations?” Owltalon stepped closer. His breath tickled the hairs on the back of Shadowheart’s neck.
He pulled her by the arm to turn her around. Owltalon pushed her chest, and she collapsed backwards onto the ground. Her breath escaped her lungs, and she struggled to draw more air back in.
”Where’s your fight? You’ve gone soft, sister,” Owltalon sneered.
The Sharrans surrounded her, closing in. Shadowheart could count ten of them.
”Come on!” An unfamiliar novice shouted. ”Get up and fight us, you pathetic girl!”
The novices were sometimes timid, but this one was full of fervour. Shadowheart had known people like them. At one point in time, she’d been like them.
”Maybe someone broke her shadowed heart.” Hyrald and the unnamed sentry chuckled at each other.
A white hot rage filled Shadowheart. She had worked so hard to be better, to think differently than how she’d been taught. It was all thrown out of the window. There were no bounds to what consumed her - rage, despair, grief, all shot out of her in a beam of blinding silver light as she stood back up abruptly.
”Enough!”
When Shadowheart could finally see again, the Sharrans had flown backwards onto the ground. They lay there, in a stupor, groaning, holding their heads. Some were entirely immobile, their limbs pointing every which way and blood trickling out of their noses. Slowly, the ones who had survived clambered onto their wobbly feet.
”You’ll pay for that,” Owltalon growled.
”No. I will not,” Shadowheart said, breathing heavily from the sheer amount of energy that had just left her body. ”I will only tell you once more to leave me alone.”
”Never mind, Owltalon,” Hyrald grasped his wrist. ”We don’t need her. We have better things to do now.”
Owltalon took one last look at Shadowheart. ”One day, Shadowheart, you’ll come to us and beg for oblivion.”