The Key to her Heart

The walk back to camp didn’t take long. Karlach led the way the moment we were done looting—the only thing of use was the battered Grymskull helm Lae’zel now wore with pride. Spiderlings watched us pass from the walls as we made our way back to the chamber Eliette had offered us.

A cold fire pit waited in the center of the room, stones arranged neatly as if expecting us. I knelt, struck a spark, and coaxed the flames to life.

The world folded on itself.

Tents rose from nothing. Packs and bedrolls settled into place like they’d never left. The scent of roasted meat and woodsmoke chased the Grymforge’s metal tang out of the air. Wyll stood over a broad cooking setup that had not been there a moment earlier, ladle in hand, a wide smile on his face. Dammon was nearby, sorting his tools. Withers lingered at the edge of the light, motionless and inscrutable.

“You’re back. Finally.” Wyll gestured at the spread like a man who’d been rehearsing this moment all afternoon. “Grilled Rothe-ribs with garlic and thyme, a proper stew with wild mushrooms from the Grove, fresh bread—well, as fresh as Zhentarim flour allows—and I even managed to find a few bottles of wine laying around in a stash. Figured we ought to celebrate properly once Karlach’s engine is sorted. A real feast for—”

“Sorry. We’re not done yet.” Karlach was already past Wyll, one finger leveled at Dammon like a spear. “We need you. Now.”

Wyll’s ladle stopped mid-stir. Whatever was left of his speech died somewhere behind his teeth.

Dammon didn’t need telling twice. He was on his feet before Karlach finished the sentence, wiping his hands, already reaching for his gloves. “Of course. Give me one moment—”

He didn’t get the moment. Karlach had his kit under one arm and was moving before he’d finished the thought, and the rest of us fell in behind her. Withers watched us go without a word, his expression giving away exactly nothing, which was somehow even more unsettling.

The second walk to the forge went faster than the first. Karlach, not bothered by the additional cargo, kept her breakneck pace. Dammon spent the whole trip looking anywhere but at his own feet—at the silk-draped walls, at the red eyes catching torchlight from every ledge. He managed to get a few questions out between panting.

“What is this place?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care—the forge is up ahead.” Karlach answered briskly.

“Why are there so many spiders?”

“Long story,” Shadowheart answered, her voice dry.

“…Why are they not attacking us?”

“Apparently, they like me.” I humbly boasted.

Whatever Dammon meant to ask next died the moment Eliette dropped from the upper webbing—pale skin gleaming above the glossy black abdomen, eight legs finding the stone with a grace that had no business belonging to something her size.

“What is that?!” he yelped.

“The queen of this realm,” Lae’zel said flatly. “She answers to us.”

Eliette inclined her head, delighted at the introduction. Dammon swallowed hard and returned the gesture with shaking hands.

It wasn’t until he saw the forge itself that the tremors stopped.

His eyes went wide. He drifted forward like something had reeled him in by the collar, turning a slow circle around the platform—the piston hanging overhead like a divine fist, the channels cut for lava, runes still glowing faint along stone older than his entire trade. For one whole minute the urgency of Karlach’s engine was forgotten.

“By the gods…” he breathed. “This is… I’ve never seen craftsmanship like this. The scale alone. The precision.” He shook his head slowly. “This isn’t a forge—it’s a masterpiece.”

Karlach tapped her foot impatiently. The sound rang sharp against the metal. “Well? Will it do?”

Dammon startled, then cleared his throat. “Right. Yes. It will more than do.” He turned to me, still half-dazed. “Can you show me how it works?”

“Of course. As a matter of fact, we just did a trial run.” I nodded at the wreckage still tangled in fresh webbing near the edge—the puny remains of the Guardian.

Dammon crouched over the ruin, unmoved. “A little rough around the edges, for my taste,” he said, as a technical assessment rather than an insult. “Walk me through it properly.”

And so I did: the main lever that dropped the piston, the valve that would open to flood the channels with lava, the pedestal where the raw metal went and the hammer hit. “—and this is where the mold for the metal goes in—”

“—which reminds me.” Dammon was already digging through his pack before I’d finished the sentence, pulling free a custom mold, his grin outshining even Karlach’s. “Wyll’s not the only one who’s been busy while you were gone.”

He fitted it into the pedestal with a few careful knocks of a small hammer, then took the piece of infernal iron from my hand and inserted it carefully into the pedestal, reverent as a man handling something holy.

“Heat on.”

Karlach didn’t wait to be told twice. She hauled the valve open, and lava poured across the channels in glowing rivers, heat rolling out in a wave that sent the closest spiderlings scattering for the walls.

“Stand clear.”

We quickly moved to the edges as Dammon’s hand found the lever. The ancient mechanism groaned.

CLANG.

The piston dropped with the familiar ear-piercing sound. This time steam shot out to all sides as the hammer found an actual fitting target, pressing the metal into the lava-heated mold.

When the steam cleared, Dammon had already moved to the center, jumping over the slowly emptying trails of lava, reaching into the mold with tongs, drawing out a single, perfectly shaped piece of infernal metal that glowed hues of blue and orange.

For a second, nobody moved.

I found myself hoping harder than I’d expected to. Fixing Karlach’s heart the usual way would have taken several weeks of travel and story progression—this was the workaround, built from nothing but loose theories and guesswork, no guarantee it would work. No guarantee it wouldn’t backfire either.

Karlach, however, didn’t wait for doubts to form.

“Give it here.”

She snagged the piece out of Dammon’s outstretched hand and brought it to her chest. The metal slid into place with a sound like a key turning in a lock that had been rusted shut for a decade. Blue fire raced along the seams of her engine, flared once, twice—then settled, steady and controlled. The heat that always lived just under her skin pulled inward at last, like embers glowing rather than fire burning.

Karlach let out a breath. “There. So did it… work?”

Dammon gave a disarming shrug. “Only one way to find out.”

I stepped forward.

Karlach’s eyes locked on mine, wide and waiting.

I kissed her.

[Karlach: Approval +10]

She kissed back like she’d been starving. Her hands came up to frame my face, and for the first time they did not sting—just warmth, steady and human, steam curling faint where her palms met my skin. Her tongue found mine without hesitation, deep and hungry, and the engine under her ribs beat in perfect time with the kiss.

When we broke apart, she was flushed, breathing hard, grinning like the world had just remembered how to be kind.

“You’re all right,” she whispered. “No burns.”

Then her grin turned wicked.

“Can we fuck now?”

Dammon made a strangled sound that might have been a cough.

Karlach didn’t even glance at him. She grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly against the underside of her breast, under the edge of her skimpy armor, where the new steady heat of her engine pulsed against my palm.

“Please. I’ve waited long enough. I don’t care if it’s here. I don’t care if they’re watching. I need you in me. NOW.” Her flames glowed a soft, insistent blue.

I looked into those lust-bright eyes and felt the entire platform watching us.

“Wait.” My voice dropped low. “Let’s get back to camp first. Let’s do this right.”

She huffed—but the grin never slipped. “Fine. But you’re seriously testing my patience, you know!”

Behind us, Dammon cleared his throat again, very carefully looking at absolutely nothing.

We left the forge together—the whole strange, mismatched lot of us, spiderlings trailing along the walls to see us off, Eliette’s giggle chasing us all the way to the tunnel mouth. Karlach kept my hand in hers the entire way back, grip iron-tight, and for the first time, entirely pleasant to hold.

Hi everyone!
Thank you for your patience.
Believe it or not, this chapter has been extremely hard to get right due to the logistics.
Forge > Camp > Forge > Camp in a single chapter was rough, but I think I managed it quite well.

I hope you like it, and see you tomorrow for the Karlach chapter ;^)