Sparks at Dawn

Morning came with a strange clarity. The fire was out, the sky a pale blue, and dew clung to every surface. The first thing I noticed was Lae'zel’s eyes on me. She stood with arms crossed near the firepit, her expression already bristling.

“You tampered with us,” she said flatly.

I blinked. “Good morning to you too.”

She stepped closer. “We didn’t undergo your ‘ritual’ yesterday. And there’s been no sign of ceremorphosis. Not in me. Not in Shadowheart. Karlach was never even subjected to it. Explain how that’s possible.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. She was right. My mind scrambled for a half-lie that sounded close enough to truth.

“The tadpoles might be laz—”

“You’ve used strange magic!” she snapped. “On us. Don’t deny it.”

I stayed quiet. I wasn’t about to confess. Shadowheart stepped in, her voice firm.

“He hasn’t done anything to hurt us. Not once.”

“That is not the measure,” Lae’zel spat, her voice cutting sharp. “What I endured... that disgrace is worse than ****.”

Shadowheart let out a short, exasperated breath. “You’re being dramatic.”

Lae’zel’s jaw tightened. “Say that again.”

Her anger had shifted towards Shadowheart.

Shadowheart crossed her arms, jaw tight. “We don’t know if it’s working or not. But it’s definitely less painful than whatever your gith could come up with.” She put extra venom into gith.

Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed, voice sharp. “Mock us all you like, but the githyanki are our only path to a cure.”

“You don’t even know if they can help. For all we know, they’ll gut us the moment we show up.”

“They would be right to do so,” Lae’zel shot back. “Better to die with honor than transform into a ghaik abomination.”

“Oh, please,” Shadowheart scoffed. “You’d rather march us to certain **** on a maybe?”

“Yes,” Lae’zel snapped. “Then at least I’ll meet **** with my blade drawn.”

“Oh yeah?” Shadowheart replied, stepping into a combative stance.

“Stop it,” I cut in, trying to get a hold of the situation. “We’ve got enough enemies ahead of us. We don’t need to make more in camp. We’ll take our chances with the githyanki stronghold. But for now—cool down, both of you.”

Lae’zel gave me a long, simmering glare, then let out a string of sharp, snarled gith curses. She turned on her heel and stalked off into the trees, disappearing into the underbrush. Whatever poor thing she found to unleash her anger on, I pitied it.

Shadowheart huffed. “She’s impossible.” She turned away, aggressively packing up her tent.

Karlach, who’d been quietly rolling up her cloth, nudged a little closer with a teasing grin. “You know, soldier—if that ritual’s anything like what Shadowheart said… I wouldn’t exactly mind a taste,” she said, voice light but loaded. She chuckled, brushing ash from her arm. “Kidding. Sort of.”

I tilted my head, meeting her eyes. “Is that a request?”

She let out a dry laugh—warm, but tinged with something heavier. “Depends. Would you like it to be?” She glanced down at the faint glow in her chest. “Even if I wanted to… you’d sizzle like bacon.”

“Well,” I said, my tone shifting, “there might be a fix for that. There’s a tiefling blacksmith at the Grove nearby—Dammon. He works with infernal metal. Might be able to help stabilize your engine.”

[Karlach: Approval +2]

Her head shot up, the light in her eyes sparking. “Seriously!? Then what are we waiting for?” she said, voice almost giddy. “Let’s go find this Dammon.”

I held up a hand. “We will. But first... we’ve got a tea party to attend.”

She gave me a blank stare. “A what now?”

“A tea party.”

She squinted. “That better be code for something, soldier.”

“Unfortunately not. It's crucial. Trust me.”

“...Then we better get a move on.”

Karlach hefted her gear, easily the heaviest load among us. Watching her, I couldn’t help but feel thankful for her—our own cheerful pack mule.

Shadowheart was already tightening the final strap on her bag when I approached.

She glanced up. “You sure that it’s working? The ritual?”

I nodded. “Yes. And I guarantee you won’t become a mindflayer.”

I had better things in mind for her.

She searched my face, eyes narrowed slightly. Then, with a quiet breath, she said, “Alright. We can discuss it tonight.”

Lae’zel returned not long after, her face composed again. She stood tall, eyes sweeping across us.

“You have proved yourself valuable,” she said, clearly begrudging it. “But don’t think I trust your magic. You’ll never lay a hand on me again.”

Karlach, stretching her shoulders, grinned. “Then I’ll take your spot.”

Shadowheart smirked. The two shared a laugh.

Even Lae’zel couldn’t help but let a small, amused huff slip.

“We leave now.”

By mid-morning, we were back on the road. One camp crisis narrowly avoided—and a long journey still ahead.