Moonrise Towers Prison, with its torture devices, cramped holding cells, and unfashionable heaps of skulls—again. Not the best place to land in, but at least he was alive. A small astral portal on the wall behind him closed, sealing the return path. Waterdeep was grabbing his head—apparently changing their destination took a toll on him. Lae'zel and the freed slaves were dazed as well, although unhurt.
The cell door was wide open. Outside, a ghoul lay dead under a flickering torch, its head resting a meter apart from the necrotic body. Astarion sniffed the air and twisted his nose. "It smells different from last time... less putrid."
"I agree," Lae'zel said. "I smell more undeath and less exposed feces."
Shadow's face twisted into a grimace. " Repulsive . Could it be because we've purified the Shadowlands?"
"I'll scout for answers," Astarion said, rising to his feet. "Maybe some of the Harpers who remained to secure the place are still alive."
"Try not to get killed." Shadowheart used her usual snarky tone, but when he prepared to retort, her lips were smiling. What a strange woman.
"Don't worry, Darling; staying alive is my expertise."
The sight outside the cell gave him pause. The prison was littered with corpses—ghouls, Sahuagin, and one drow, still clasping his halberd. No Harpers, though. The stench of death hung about while he sneaked through the hallways. The cell that once held a group of annoying gnomes showed no indication of their presence. He didn't smell the thick odor of Tieflings either, which—excluding other factors—was an improvement.
Tav was an annoying, stubborn, capricious, overly flirty, and disturbingly violent woman, but at least she loathed the entitled, self-obsessed creatures with a passion. Especially the bards, which she sometimes slayed in sadistic rituals. Only Karlach had been spared that wrath. Oddly, nobody took her dark urge seriously, so he pretended to do the same. It was entertaining, after all.
He followed the trail of destruction to another glowing portal. The evidence suggested the invading force had left through it. Crossing another astral gate could bring him anywhere, and the trip could be dangerous or even lethal. Thus, Astarion returned to report his findings. In the cell, Waterdeep and Liz were resting, the drow family was still grieving over the mother, who'd been covered in a white shroud, and Shadowheart sat with them, laying a consoling hand on the daughter's shoulder.
How unbecoming.
When Astarion finished updating the others, Gale stroked his stubble in thought. "Another portal, a different smell, and missing signs of past prisoners... As I suspected, we're in an astral replica of the real Moonrise Towers."
"How sharp, Waterdeep. You could've said that earlier and save me the patrol."
"Can you act like an adult for two seconds?!" The rubbed his head, sighing. "Sorry, this ride was bumpier than I expected."
"Perhaps we should start wearing our helmets."
Gale tapped on his head. "And mess up this perfect hairdo?"
"Now who's not being an adult?"
"Anyway! Based on your patrol, I believe whoever has recreated Moonrise Towers conjured only specific parts of the location and connected them via portals."
"The design choice is unimportant!" Lae'zel said, tapping a nervous foot on the floor. "We need to get going."
Gale twisted his face. "We'll likely run into opposition past the portal, and my magic is spent . I think we should rest and regain our strength."
Shadowheart nodded in agreement. "Zelnira and Xunvir need a break too." She smiled at the drow daughter. The blonde, red-eyed youngster must've been in her twenties—more mature than high elves of that age, but a toddler compared to Astarion.
"You've learned their names," he said. "Why?"
"Because I'm not a total asshole, Astarion."
"You're not considering bringing them into a war zone, do you?"
Shadow frowned at him. "We can't simply abandon them!"
"We can't even talk to them!" He shook his head. "May I remind you what happened to your pet imp?"
"That was a freak accident!" Lae'zel said, avoiding Shadowheart's gaze.
"I'm just saying, darling, that being near us isn't the best way to reach old age. Even Withers was already ancient when we found him."
"Well, there's no other exit," Waterdeep said, "so the drow will accompany us for now." He added a stare that clarified it wasn't open for debate.
Astarion shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you. What about the big calamari—can it find us?"
"The Ulitharid? I guess that, with enough effort, it might discover my astral footprints... We should be on watch for signs of a new portal."
" Wonderful . Leave that to me." He felt restless, anyway. The party set up a temporary camp to catch their breath, enjoy Shadowheart's healing, and recover magic ability. Astarion sat by the entrance, which provided a good vantage point on the existing glowing gate. His mind soon drifted to past events, including the hapless victims he'd lured to Cazador's deadly embrace. Now that his mind was free, the memories haunted him—especially the faces of younger targets. Yes, he was compelled to do that—for mere rats—but the cold satisfaction he felt at the time lingered. If only he had some wine to numb the guilt...
A soft hand touched his arm.
"Not now, Shady, I'm dealing with my melancholy—and failing."
A stream of appreciative gibberish came in response. He glanced sideways and saw the young drow, gazing admirably at him. Much nicer than rats... she could sate his fangs with her nubile blood... He pushed back that urge. "Zelnira, right?"
The girl nodded with amiable enthusiasm.
"You're welcome, and sorry—about your mother." He nodded toward the shroud-covered body.
She smiled, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. An innocent gesture—probably—but she was of age. His eyes locked on her exposed neck, and his fangs trembled with excitement, crying for the satisfaction of draining her life juice.
"Hey, you." A sweet voice said from above—Shadowheart, leaning on the open gate. "Getting along?"
Astarion blinked, unsure. The delicious drow still beamed at him from much too close. He pushed her. "Run along now."
The girl pouted.
"Don't give me those puppy eyes. It's a private conversation."
With a huff and a shrug, the dark elf returned inside. Shadow's gaze followed her; for a moment, she seemed jealous. All he wanted was to be left alone.
"Finished your meditation already?" Astarion asked.
"Soon." She stood beside him. "I didn't miss this place at all. Shar's Gauntlet—"
"Yes, I was there too."
She frowned. "Are you upset?"
"Astarion is never upset, darling," he said, upset.
"Well, if my presence bothers you—"
It didn't... and it did. "I can't keep watch with all those interruptions."
"Oh." The cleric's jaw tightened. "I guess I got the wrong idea about you."
She must've meant their shared deviant dipping. "Sorry to disappoint, but the bathhouse was just... stress relief."
Shadowheart's lips contorted in pain. She raised an open hand, and he prepared for a slap. Instead, she spun around. "Get fucked , Astarion, you... undead shithead!"
His earlier words were unfair—even he knew it. But she'd already stepped away before he could say more. Fine! He didn't need the drama, and she was Tav's girlfriend—not that it mattered, because he wasn't interested in anyone for longer than a night. Not even the cute half-elven cleric, who now sat burying her face in her arms. The drow girl came to support her, and they hugged right away... How simple it was for some to express affection . He stared at his palm, wondering if the imprint would communicate with him again, but it remained still. The color was already fading.
A minute later, Shadowheart resumed her meditation. Gale was leaning against a wall with eyes shut, Lae'zel sat quietly on her knees, one eye glaring at him, and the two drow rested in a corner. Astarion's muscles ached from the last fight, but the argument left him too agitated to sit idle. If that was a fake version of Moonrise Towers, would it have copies of the treasure chests? Only one way to find out... He took one step, and Shadow peeked at him. Her green eye shut the moment he looked back.
Treasure... or drama...? Treasure was the superior choice. Why would anyone choose drama, let alone a refined, standards-appreciating gentlevampire like himself?
He parked his ass on the floor beside Shadowheart.
"Hi."
She kept her eyes shut, but inhaled a deep, seemingly unwelcoming breath.
"I... overreacted. It's the pressure, you know, and Tav—"
"I miss her too, you know."
He meant to say Tav was her girlfriend, but... Did he miss that murderous weirdo, who poked her nose into every squabble and made buffoonish faces during conversations? "Well, she could be useful—if we run into more bards ."
Shadowheart snickered, still not looking. "She does hate them. I think it's related to her previous life."
"We all have our quirks." A touch of nostalgia made him smile. "Me, I can't stand clowns."
"Can anyone?"
"Only the mentally dubious. Can I tell you something?"
The cleric opened a curious eye. "Go ahead."
"When that dumb clown turned into a doppelgänger, I was happy we could kill it."
Shadow's exquisite lips curled into a cruel smile. "Me too."
They shared a hesitant chuckle. Then she opened her other eye. "Just so we're clear, you're not getting any more stress relief ."
"That was a stupid thing to say," he said, shocked by his own words. She scrutinized him with a piercing gaze. He would've started sweating if he weren't undead. "I don't know what to call it, Shady, but... it was something else."
Her eyes narrowed. "Something... good?"
"Don't push it, darling."
She chuckled, and peeked at the sleeping drow. "I saw you leering at her neck."
"Ah, yes, I'm a monster; thanks for reminding me."
"No, I... How bad do you need the blood?"
Was she offering? His fangs throbbed, dousing him with desire. "I can do longer," he said, covering his mouth. "It's just Raphael's aphrodisiac, messing with my libido."
"Oh? Then if I do this"—Shadow leaned close, sublime neck fully exposed—"does it turn you on?"
" Terribly ." The word escaped his lips. Red flashes clouded his sight, ordering him to attack, pierce , and drain. He opened his mouth.
"I'll keep that in mind," the cleric said, withdrawing. The bloodlust didn't care, though. It persevered, demanding gratification, furious at the cruel denial.
"Careful, Shadowheart," Lae'zel said, "or we'll need a shroud for you too."
Astarion turned away, frustrated and ashamed. "She's right, Shady, so don't do this again."
"Last time, you stopped."
"Because you kicked me." In a rather unpleasant spot, too.
"I can do it again."
Astarion got up, keeping his eyes in the opposite direction. "I'm glad my dependence amuses you. Next time we should crack witty lines about your cursed hand." Shadow reached with her hand, but he pulled away, frowning. "I know what you like—playing with the monster, flirting with danger. Well, I'm beyond done with such games."
Lae'zel snorted from her spot. "And you can't even impregnate her extremely fertile womb."
Shadow hid her face with a long squeak. Astarion turned to the Gith. "Liz, did you ever speak to someone, and they liked you more , not less?"
"Chk, I'm quite popular among Githyanki, including many suitors."
" Willing suitors?"
"They merely failed to overpower me in combat."
"Failed," he said, smirking, "or lost on purpose?"
Lae'zel growled, raising a clenched fist, but Shadowheart burst into a lovely giggle. She gave him a soft look. "Look, Astarion, I'm sorry."
"Aren't we all," he said, shrugging, and stepped to the entrance. That's what he deserved for not picking treasure.