Quiet Embers

The campfire had sagged into a low orange, all crackle and quiet breath. No banter, nor ballads tonight. Just the weight of what I’d said—and what I hadn’t. The grove’s trees stood like dark jurors around us, and somewhere in the background, a body of water trickled with an annoyingly monotonous rhythm

Wyll was the first to move. He rose with that somber stiffness he fell back on, when his heart was shaken. “I’ll turn in,” he said, clearing his throat. “Tomorrow's a big day and I need to be ready for everything.” He gave me a brief nod that said he still stood with me, even if he didn’t like the ground we stood on. Then he slipped away into his tent with a careful quiet, as if not to disturb the disturbing peace.

Shadowheart and Karlach remained on their logs, both silent in ways that didn’t feel restful. Shadowheart’s gaze stayed on the fire, but I could feel the questions clicking like beads behind her eyes. Karlach—bright, un-exhaustible Karlach—had gone still at the edges. It wasn’t anger that dimmed her; it was something heavier.

Kagha sat beside me with a serene little smile, hands folded, posture relaxed like a woman who’d finally set down a crown that never fit. Every so often her eyes slid toward me—content, certain—as if reassuring herself I hadn’t vanished.

Lae’zel broke the hush. “I will need your services tonight,” she said to me unbothered. Then she stood and left without a bacward look, the firelight sliding along her generous curves as she disappeared toward her tent.

Kagha followed the githyanki with her eyes, then turned to me, brow dipping. “Your… services?”

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice even. “We’re infected. With mindflayer tadpoles, of all things. Each day brings us closer to them hatching.”

Kagha went very still, her fingers suddenly tight on my hand. I kept going. “I know a way to hold it back. A nightly rite. It works—but it comes with… side effects.”

“Such as?” she asked earnestly

I glanced to Shadowheart, then Karlach. The ‘side effects’ sat around the fire in thight leather and high-slit silk. “Enhancements,” I said. “They’re unharmed and safe, but not without slight kinks.”

Kagha studied my expression first, then let her eyes drift over the others—Shadowheart’s lithe and perky lines, Karlach’s boons and athletic allure. “I understand,” she said softly. “How fortunate they weren’t left to their fate, and that you found them.”

Shadowheart shot Karlach a look that screamed, Can you believe this bitch? Karlach’s return glance said much more.

Kagha cleared her throat delicately. “And these rites—you perform one each night? For each of them?”

I felt Shadowheart’s gaze on my cheek and couldn't help but chuckle, "Mostly,” I said.

Kagha blushed—genuine surprise flashing through her calm. “What stamina…” she murmured before catching herself. A very un-druidic smile tugged at her mouth.

“You have duties,” she said, dipping her head with a formal grace that felt oddly sincere. “I’ll wait by your bedroll. I… will make sure everything is warm and ready for you.” She drifted away slowly, as a cat claiming a warm stone.

Shadowheart stood a moment later and brushed imaginary ash from her dress. “I’m going to sleep,” she said more to the fire, then to me: “There’s an open spot in my tent tonight.” She then turned, braid swinging as a pendulum behind her as she left.

Karlach remained. The fire threw soft light over the strong lines of her shoulders. She didn’t look at me right away.

“Karlach?” I asked.

She tilted her head, offered a strained little smile. “Hey.” A pause. “Do you think I’m good for today? The morning ritual—does it… still count?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “You’re safe.”

“Good.” She exhaled, and the breath seemed to take half her heat with it. “Then I’m gonna skip. I’m not feeling it. Not tonight.” She glanced away, jaw tight, then **** a lopsided grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hope that’s alright.”

“It is,” I said too fast.

“Thanks, mate.” My heart clenched at the word. She looked at me again, almost apologetically, her expression carrying an unfamiliar distance. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah...” was all I could muster.

She rose, stretched, and wandered toward her tarp shelter. She didn’t look back. The space she left behind felt colder than it had any right to.

An indescribable knot twisted in my stomach. I had hurt Karlach in a new and profound way—deeper than any pre-written dialogue option ever did. This was entirely by my own hand and it left me queasy beyond belief. For a while, I blanked out and just listened to the fire gnaw through another piece of wood.

The thrumming of the grove had faintly reached our camp—distant, different. Not the steady heart of before, but some new pulse testing its rhythm.

Kagha’s shadow shifted near my bedroll; she didn’t speak, content to be still and near. Shadowheart’s tent was a silhouette with a lantern slowly moving in the breeze; Lae’zel’s tent was its same disciplined order—neat, cold, and reliable. All these hurdles of empathy and morality hadn’t touched her in the slightest.

I stood. My legs felt heavier than they should have. “I’ll be back,” I told Kagha. She nodded, eyes bright and accommodating in the half-light.

Lae’zel’s tent waited. I took a breath and let the guilt settle somewhere I could carry it. Then I pushed the flap aside and stepped into the dark.