Smolder

The fire burned low, the day’s exhaustion sinking into our bones—limbs heavy, minds dulled, the kind of tired that made conversation feel like too much effort. Lae’zel sat near the edge of the firelight, her blade resting across her knees. She had spent most of the evening working it to her liking. Now, at last, it gleamed—sharp as a Gith blade, but broader and heavier, able to deal more crushing power. She said nothing, but it was clear to see that she was content. Shadowheart sat cross-legged on a folded cloak, eyes fixed on the flames, occasionally stealing glances toward me when she thought I wouldn’t notice. Karlach was closest to the fire, stretched out on a thick cloth, content from single handedly eating one days worth of rations, her heat soaking into the night air.

I was the first to break the silence.

“So,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual, “if anyone wants another go at the tadpo—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Lae’zel stood without a word and walked off toward her tent, her expression unreadable.

Shadowheart blinked after her, then quickly looked away, a soft blush rising on her cheeks.

Karlach raised an eyebrow and looked between us. “Alright. What’s going on?”

I cleared my throat. “It’s my magic. I have experience with handling and stalling mindflayer tadpoles. But the healing I’ve been using… it’s changed. The tadpoles, I think—they’re affecting it. Twisting it somehow.”

Karlach narrowed her eyes. “That sounds... dangerous.”

“It hasn’t turned any of us yet,” I said quickly. “That’s proof enough that it works. And time is limited. I wanted to offer it again tonight, you know, to keep us safe.”

The tadpole effects weren’t supposed to kick in for a few days. That gave me a window. After that, things might change—especially once the dreams started. In the game, it had always been a mysterious Mindflayer, disguised as a beautiful "dream visitor", trying to earn our trust with cryptic visions. It was mostly harmless. Just story dressing. No real danger.

But this wasn’t the game. And I was gambling with that buffer, using the early days to test boundaries and gently wear down defenses. Still, I had no clue how the real 'Emperor'—the mindflayer behind it all—might react to my meddling. That unknown lingered on the edge of my master plan.

Shadowheart leaned over and whispered something to Karlach, so quiet I couldn’t make out a word. Karlach blinked, brows raised, engine humming louder. I sat up straighter, half-curious, half-concerned, and 100% sure I was the target for whatever secret she was sharing.

Karlach’s infernal engine flared suddenly—its usual orange glow shifting to an intense, searing blue.

Shadowheart stepped back instinctively, raising an arm, shielding herself from heat.

Karlach’s eyes locked on me. The flames in her chest flickered faster. Her stare was intense. Heated. Desire and confusion wrestling behind her eyes. Then her face fell. Her whole body seemed to curl inward. The flames turned a dim orange.

She brought her hands up, covering her face.

“It’s not fair,” she groaned, her voice cracked and low.

Her hands trembled. She looked up at me, eyes damp with tears she refused to let fall.

“It’s been ten years since I felt anything like that.”

She stood quickly, arms tight at her sides. “Excuse me,” she muttered. “I need some time alone.”

She walked away, leaving a silence so heavy it nearly snuffed the fire.
Shadowheart and I locked eyes across the fire. I didn’t even need to ask.
The question was all over my face. She hesitated. Her expression flickered—first something close to arousal, then something unreadable.

“We better not,” she said softly. “Not tonight.”

She turned and left for her tent.
I sat alone by the fire, embers fading into the dark.

“This won’t do,” I whispered.