Rest Assured

We stepped out of the sanctum and onto stone that stretched broad and flat, circling like an arena. At its center, on top of a natural stone pedestal, sat the Idol of Silvanus. The air around it pulsed faintly with nature’s rhythm, steady and calm. The seed in my pocket grew warmer, eager to be seeded and buried at its destined altar and sink it's corruption deep into this sacred and fertile land.

Soon.

I let my gaze linger for just a moment so as not to draw attention. Then I turned to the gang. “Let’s take a long rest.”

Lae’zel walked tight at my side, her yellow eyes locked on me, weighing each step I took. Shadowheart studied her from behind, watching the way the gith moved closer with every stride. Karlach took the chance to bump my shoulder every now and then, laughing under her breath, taking advantage of my new "tolerance" of her heat. We left the circle behind and followed a ledge toward a stony terrace tucked out of sight, open enough to breathe without feeling damp.

Someone had set a ring of stones there waiting to be ignited. I crouched and lit it, in mere second the flames leapt high, warm and steady, filling the hollow with a glow. I rose—and found myself nose to nose with Wyll.

We both froze, equally startled.

“…By the Hells!” he yelled.

“Same,” I muttered.

In that moment, the rest of camp unfolded around us as though it had always been there. Shadowheart’s tent—neat, dark canvas with a lantern hung on its pole. Lae’zel’s wedge-shaped quarters, a training dummy posted outside in the unmistakable likeness of a mind flayer. Karlach’s lazy tarp slung low near the ground. My own bedroll beside the fire. And the smell of dinner drifted thick through the air.

Withers stood beside him, unmoved, as if he’d been waiting all along.

Karlach let out a startled laugh. “Bloody hells—where’d you just spring from?”

Lae’zel’s blade sang half out of its sheath. “What trick is this?"

Shadowheart folded her arms, surprise turning into suspicion, then softening into pondering. “Convenient, if nothing else.”

Withers tilted his skull. “Threads of fate weave across time and place. Many roads lead to the same hearth.”

Karlach frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“You do not need to know, nor would you like to,” Withers intoned, his voice empty of humor. “Knowledge denied is often a gift.”

I breathed out a laugh, shaking my head. So that’s how it works. Light a fire, call it a rest, and the whole camp just folds itself around us. Just like in the game. The details didn’t matter, at least we could skip daily packing and repacking. “Good enough for me.” I said decidedly.

Lae’zel snapped her sword back into place with a sharp nod. “Agreed.”

Shadowheart gave me a long look, then rolled her eyes and said nothing. Karlach shrugged, already drawn by the smell of stew.

We ate together, bowls in hand, the food grounding after the Grove’s tensions. Karlach spoke animatedly about our dealings with Kagha, the refugees, and her infernal maintenance plan, while Wyll listened closely. His expression shifted often—relief at our choice to help, worry at what came next.

“You stood up for the Grove,” he said finally, hope building in his voice. “That matters. To me. They would’ve been thrown out like dogs otherwise. I want to help however I can. Let me drill the tieflings tomorrow. Formations, maneuvers, combat stances. The question is…” His hand rose self-consciously to one of his horns. “…would they even listen to someone who looks like this?”

I smirked. “You’ll fit right in with the tieflings.”

Karlach laughed, bumping my arm. “You're right. They’ll see Wyll as one of their own—that'll get them fired up.”

Wyll’s mouth twisted, but the worry eased. “Maybe. I hope so.”

“They need you,” I said. “deformed or not.”

He gave a small nod, the weight in his shoulders easing as he stared into the stew.

“Thank you… both of you,” he said quietly. “Your support, our friendship, it means more than I can say. From the botto—"

I cut him off with a shake of my hand. “It’s fine. You’ve already done plenty for Karlach. You’ll find a way to pay me back when it counts.”

Wyll blinked a few times before a quiet chuckle slipped out.

"Deal" He said as he dipped his head once, calm settling back over him once again.

After that, the talk grew thin. Karlach kept the smalltalk going, but Shadowheart and Lae’zel fell quiet, tension still thick between them. Their silence grew until Karlach cut it with a grin, tapping her spoon against her bowl. “So. Our nightly routine. How are we playing it?”

Wyll cleared his throat, already rising. “I’ll… turn in early. Big day tomorrow.” He gave a half-smile and left.

Karlach pointed her spoon at me. “First turn's mine.”

Shadowheart tilted her head, braid falling over her shoulder. “I’ll tend to him after. He usually needs a gentler hand—and we all know I’m the only one with that touch.”

Lae’zel’s jaw tightened but she said nothing

Karlach winked disarmingly at her. “Saving the best for last, then.”

Lae’zel’s eyes were sharp yet appreciative. “I will be ready for him when he needs me.”

Shadowheart rose, smoothing her dress. “Try not to rough him up then, or he'll have to drop by me again. Not that i mind” Her eyes slid over me, warm and claiming, before she vanished into her tent.

Lae’zel stood without a word and left for her tent, the firelight tracing her shape. Her new curves, accentuated by the formfitting leotard, momentarily distracted me from the uncomfortable situation.

That left Karlach and me by the fire.

She stretched, her chest rising under the sparse leather, heat from her engine shimmering through the air. “They’ll cool off,” she said, softer now. “Tomorrow, they’ll be better.” She nodded toward the man-sized cauldron. “Now come on. You got that hot tub for a reason. And you’ve got that new fire resistance—I’ve been dying to test it.”

I raised a brow. “oh, you got something planned?"

Her grin was wicked, eyes glowing with heat. “I have a plan. And besides, you owe me a soak after all this diplomacy. I hate diplomacy.”

“Funny, considering how much you talk.”

“Says you!”

We laughed together, the sound carrying easily into the night as she tugged me by the hand. Heat bled from her palm into my skin—not the painful burn it once was, but the steady warmth of water a touch too hot, tolerable, worth it. She flashed me a playful look over her shoulder. “Come on.”

“Alright,” I said, letting her pull me toward the tub. “Lead the way.”

Her grin widened, bright with promise. “Just you wait, I've got a surprise for you, Soldier~”