“Of what value is a life? Far too esoteric a topic to warrant any serious critical consideration between these pages, surely— or so it would seem at first glance.
But once we push aside the mysticism and dewy-eyed sentiments so often clouding our assessment, it is clear that across all the spinning planes, each and every life does indeed have a quantifiable value. It is simply that not all are equally valuable.”
In the seclusion of his tent, Gale lay on the questionable comfort of his bedroll, a book hovering gently in the air in front of him. Propped up by a pile of cushions that he had secured from a forgotten cupboard at the Last Light, he lay in silence as he tried to keep reading.
The book was a slender tome, bound in black leather and gold gilding, and he had come across it during their foray into the crypt dedicated to Jergal several months back. He had been intrigued when he had initially picked it up, but now, he just couldn’t focus.
He tried again.
Consider: we already know that the destruction of our material form is not the end. If anything, or souls are more free after death, transcending planar barriers in search of a resting place that best befits our deeds, beliefs , and station in life. But even this assessment is subject to market forces: Lord Kelemvor weighing our souls againts how thoroughly we have given them over to other gods, empowering them in turn.
Nope.
He sighed, and with a flourish of his fingers, dismissed the book. It vanished in a small flash of light, and it left Gale lying there, staring sightlessly into the empty space that it had just occupied.
It had been… a very strange day.
It had begun with his being awoken by her falling on top of him as he had slept, progressed shortly thereafter to him pushing her against a wall as she had kissed him like he’d never been kissed before, and had ended with her being accosted by Karlach as soon as they had gotten back to camp for the night.
He had been banking on the possible chance to speak to her alone when they had gotten back, had been waiting on tenterhooks for it from the instant that her lips had pulled away from his for the last time, and then Karlach had barged in — again — before he’d had any recourse to try.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as the thoughts from the day methodically percolated through his mind. He still could not come to grips with what had happened, down in the depths of the Gauntlet, and it sent alternating thrills of fire and nervous energy shooting down to his fingertips every time that he had fallen into the reverie of remembering it.
She had kissed him.
She had kissed him.
And then, instead of pulling her into his tent when they had gotten back to camp and fucking her until she begged for him to stop, he’d had to watch as Karlach had taken her by the arm and had led her off to a quiet corner of the campsite. He had stood by the campfire in silence, watching as the tiefling had walked her away, the barbarian's animated chatter about something or other seeming to have captured her full attention. He hadn’t missed, however, when she had looked over her shoulder searchingly as she had been pulled away, and had also not missed the moment when she had seemed to find what she had been looking for.
Their eyes had locked for the precise amount of time that it had taken Gale to breathe in and then back out again, and it had been at just the right angle for the light from the campfire at his feet to meet her irises in a blaze of warm gold and brilliant citrine. Even if he’d had the opportunity to call out to her in that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to seize it; the radiant beauty of her gaze in that singular glance was something that he knew would stay with him for the rest of his days.
It had seemed to him, as he had stood in silence while she had turned away, that the veil of the physical realm had been lifted in those briefest of seconds to reveal something of what she truly was. It wasn’t the lies of the Weave, and it wasn’t the forced perspective of some other god — it was what lay underneath all of that pretense, hidden in a place where the manipulations forced by biology and physics and fickle gods couldn’t reach.
It was the essence of her soul, he had thought then, and it was still what he knew to be true now, as he lay in the solitude of his tent alone. The light of the flames had acted as a conduit, channeling a quality within her that could only be spoken to by light itself, because only light that beautiful and golden and radiant could be worthy enough to carry the truth of what it revealed.
A stillness grew over Gale then, as his mind lost itself in the vision of her, and in the silence of it he could feel his heart beating. His eyes closed as the slow and steady rhythm of it moved through his chest, and he found himself wondering if the viscera of it knew that the Netherese mass was now its permanent warden. Did the muscles of it feel the dark sinews of its insidious guest? Could it sense the unholy power of the thing that could vaporize it out of existence at any moment?
As his heart pumped on, as calmly and steadily as it had ever done, Gale could only conclude that it could not perceive any of those things, else it would have gone into seize long ago. No, only his mind held the knowledge of that burden, and it had clouded every thought and every experience that he’d had since its insertion. Even the kiss that had changed him forever from the moment that her lips had found his in the cold Sharran dark, even that had not been free of the awareness of its presence.
And when her eyes had flared golden and brilliant for him in the light of the campfire just hours ago, he had felt the cacophony of its darkness surge in response, even as his very soul had swelled at the sight of her.
It was always there.
He would never be free of it, not even at the very moment should he be bid to wield it. It would only be after, after it had turned him into ether, that he would be unchained. Unchained into a nothingness where he would know no more, because even the most majestic landscapes of Mystra's Weave would hold no reason for him to perpetuate.
Not without her.
And so it was then, there in the silence of his tent that was deep in the eternal dark of the Shadowlands, that Gale reached a decision.
He called out to the Goddess of Magic, one final time.
Mystra-ryl.
YOU ARE READING
Unleash Me
FanfictionIt wasn't Mystra that he wanted, that much remained clear even as all clarity began to slip away. It wasn't her hands that he craved. He hadn't thought about her face when he had pumped desperately into his shaking hand every night previous, and it...
