Like Starlight and Wine (A Baldur's Gate 3 Astarion x Tav Fanfic)

7. The Wizard of Waterdeep

Astarion and I hit the road bright and early that morning, continuing where we left off the day before. From there, we follow the road up and out of the nautaloid crash site, putting distance between us and that sprawling landscape of debris. And thank the stars for that! I breathe a sigh of relief as that burning hell-scape disappears beneath the foot of the hill, and off into the distance, closing that little chapter of my journey behind me. It will not be missed.

As we forge ahead, looking for civilization, I drink in the beauty of the nature around me. It's so peaceful. So calming. A far cry from the dreams of terror that haunt me, and from the red fantasies that consume my mind. I wish that I could hold this moment in my mind forever, but in an instant, the peace is destroyed when Astarion stops so suddenly I nearly ram into his back. 

"What in the hells?" I gasp under my breath.

"I see something over there," he points to a cliff face up ahead. "What's that?"

I step forward, squinting my eyes to peer past the hazy glow of the morning sun, and then I see it too. A sigil. A swirling, purple vortex of magic, the center of it a black void like a portal, twisting unsteadily along the rocks.

"What's going on with that rune?" I ponder, more curious than afraid. "It looks unstable somehow."

"Careful," Astarion cautions. "That doesn't look safe."

But I don't heed his warning. Instead, I approach the sigil on the stone. Magic glitters and swirls from it erratically, as if malfunctioning. It looks slightly dangerous. I should probably leave it alone. But for some reason, I reach out to touch the sigil.

"By the hells, woman," Astarion groans in exasperation. "Must you touch every questionable  looking thing you come across?"

I don't have time to respond, before a disembodied hand suddenly juts out from the center of the sigil, reaching out as if looking for something to grab onto. Then a voice, which I presume belongs to the body that the hand is attached to, speaks.

"A hand? Anyone?"

I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Oh, just your average traveler stuck between realms," the voice says facetiously. "Pull me out and we'll get properly introduced."

I know I should grab the hand, and help pull this strange man out of the sigil that he seems to be trapped in. But dark fantasies cloud my mind again - the satisfaction of hacking off the hand, and listening to its owner's melodious cries of agony while their blood and viscera splatters to the earth in rich, red, globular chunks.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Astarion asks impatiently. "We don't have all day. Are you going to rescue this man or not? I don't care either way, but we don't have time for contemplation."

I shake my head violently, pushing away the dark thoughts, ignoring the urge to maim. I reach out, grab the hand firmly and pull. And I pull with all my might. The person attached the arm is stuck fast, whatever magic is going awry, it's strong. But I keep pulling.

"That's it!" the disembodied voice encourages. "Go on, keep pulling!"

"Put your back into it, darling," Astarion cheers from the sidelines, pretending to be helpful but of course not offering an ounce of real assistance. "You've got this!"

I roll my eyes and keep pulling. I dig my heels into the dirt, square my shoulders, breathe in deep, and with the rest of the strength that I can muster from the core of my being, I pull. The hand finally breaks free, and along with it, the body its attached to.

"Ooft!" The man grunts, as he flies out of the sigil, sails through the air, and lands with a hard thud on the ground at my feet. It didn't sound like a pleasant landing, but he recovers quickly, clamoring to his feet.