Afterburn

The walls were still collapsing when I reached her. Karlach stood in the midst of smoldering beams and cracked stone, chest heaving, the hum of her infernal engine deep and restless. Smoke drifted around us, curling between the wreckage.

There was something in her face—a smile, just a bit too sharp, resting even as her breath calmed. It looked good on her.

She wiped a hand across her brow, leaving a streak of soot she didn’t bother to clean. Her shoulders sagged, not from defeat, but release. She looked worn down, maybe, but also... lighter. As if something inside her had broken loose and flown away.

“That,” she muttered, “was overdue.”

I stepped closer. “Feel better?”

Her eyes met mine, golden yellow and alive with the flicker of her engine’s light. “Like I let ten years of hell out in one breath. Still buzzing, but yeah... better.”

We walked away from the worst of the smoke and sat on a cracked foundation wall. She leaned back, hands braced behind her, eyes on the afternoon sky.

I glanced at her, knowing the answer but asking anyway. “Do you want to talk about it? About how it all started?”

She didn’t respond at first. Just stared ahead. Then, after a pause, she chuckled. “You know, you’re a strange one, Tav. Most people tiptoe around me. You ask like you already know.”

I kept my expression neutral. “I just... have a feeling there’s more to you than what you let on.”

She smirked at that, curiosity lighting her eyes. “Alright then. A bit of story, since you asked so nicely.”

She stretched out her legs and let out a slow, steady breath of heated air.

“When I was a late teen—eighteen, nineteen maybe—I worked as a bodyguard in Baldur’s Gate. Not some back-alley mercenary gig. No, I was guarding Enver Gortash. Big name. Fancy suits. Silver tongue.”

"I'm familiar."

“I was loyal. Dumb, maybe. But loyal. I believed in him. Protected him like he was something worth saving. Then one day... poof. I'm gone. Dragged straight into Avernus. You know why?”

“Gortash sold you,” I said, quiet.

She gave me a sidelong glance, lips twitching upward. “See? You do know things.”

Her voice turned hard, edged with old hurt. “He handed me over to Zariel like I was a coin purse. Said I was ‘fit for war.’ And just like that, I was a footsoldier in the Blood War. No trial. ****.”

She paused, the weight of her past lingering in the air. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. Before they let me loose in the hellscape, they made sure I could survive it. Experimented on me. Ripped out my heart and put in hellish technology.” She tapped her chest with the heel of her hand. “Left me with scars that’d make most people vomit. My whole upper body? Burned, stitched, branded. It’s not just armor I wear—it’s a cage.”

She went quiet for a beat, jaw tense. Then with a sudden huff of laughter, she said, “But hey—it’s too early in the game for tragic sob stories.”

Then she winked.

I blinked. The words. The wink. Too perfect. Too meta. A chill flickered down my spine. Could she know? Was she just joking?

Before I could ask, she stood and brushed soot from her arms, patting down her armor and running her fingers through her hair to shake out ash. She gave herself a little shake and a satisfied sigh.

She turned to me, hands on her hips. “Well? How do I look?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Hot.”

She snorted and barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “Careful, soldier. If I burn any hotter, I might just explode.” Her grin sparkled with mischief and charm.

That smile—gods, I felt it in my ribs.

“I think we call it here for tonight,” I said, turning back toward the others. “We’ve earned some rest.”

Lae’zel made a sharp noise, a dismissive cluck of the tongue. “My new blade is unmaintained. I will accept the delay.” She found a spot near the fire and began methodically honing the weapon, eyes focused and intent.

Shadowheart just slipped away, heading toward the shadows to pitch her tent half-hidden, as always. “Whatever you say,” she murmured as she passed.

Karlach didn’t bother with a tent. She unrolled a thick piece of cloth and dropped it near the fire, stretching her arms with a sigh of contentment. “Who needs canvas when you run this hot?”

I laid my own bedroll near hers, just close enough to feel the edge of her heat.

Dinner came out—dry bread, salted meat, rations that were meant to stretch. Karlach tore into them like she hadn’t eaten in days, and honestly, maybe she hadn’t.

“You’re going to burn through all our food,” I teased.

Shadowheart arched a brow, smirking. “Those muscles don’t run on air.” She passed Karlach the waterskin and gave her a gentle look.

Karlach grinned with her mouth full, too busy to answer.

Lae’zel grunted in agreement, still focused on her sword. “Eat. We’ll need you at full strength.”

I watched Karlach as she leaned back, hands behind her head, eyes half-lidded as she stared at the stars. Her engine pulsed softly. The rage from earlier was gone.

And yet, I still had plans for tonight.