Tamed Tadpole, Binding Bargain

The flap of Wyll’s tent fell shut behind me. He sat near a single candle, its flickering light casting his shadow high across the canvas walls. The horns curling from his temples twisted the glow, giving him a devilish outline. His back was straight, but there was no flair in his posture—just a man sitting still.

"You're finally here," he said. It wasn’t a complaint, just a fact. His voice sounded thinner tonight, like the usual spark in him had dulled, worn down to something quieter, almost cautious.

“Quite a spectacle out there. You saved the damsel in distress," I joked.

He didn’t smirk. Just tilted his head slightly. "Not much of a spectacle, really. Just a pact. And a cost."

He looked down at the blade resting across his lap. He wasn’t holding it for comfort or threat. It just lay there like a reminder.

I gave a short nod. "You ready?"

He exhaled slowly, then nodded and closed his eyes. I leaned in, peering at the side of his head like I was inspecting some delicate magical residue. A few exaggerated "huh?" and "mhmm" sounds escaped me.

"Actually." I said, eyeing him carefully, "something’s... changed."

He raised an eyebrow. "Changed how?"

Truth be told, there was nothing to see—but it didn't matter.

"Volo's expert ceremorphosis surgery... it didn’t remove the tadpole, but it looks like it shocked it into some kind of stasis."

Wyll sat up straighter. "Stasis? So it’s not... evolving?"

"Exactly. It's dormant. Still there, but not progressing."

He exhaled with visible relief. "Well, that's something. Honestly, I was worried I’d start spouting tentacles if you didn't come back one day."

"Well, at least not tonight," I said. "Seems like you're good for now. You won't be needing my rituals anymore."

Truth was, the tadpole was going nowhere fast—at least, not at this point in the game. And I had better uses for my nights than flicking Wyll on the nose and whispering infernal mumbo-jumbo.

Wyll rubbed the side of his temple, then glanced at the flap of the tent. "Still, I'd rather not rely on luck forever. When we find a proper cure..."

"We’ll take it," I finished.

There was a pause. The candle hissed as the flame danced. Its glow warped across his horns.

"Mizora," I said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"How much of you does she own?"

He took a few moments to answer, "Enough."

I didn’t fill the silence. He kept going.

"She's clever. Always one step ahead. She uses words, not blades. You think you’re walking away with a fair deal—then realize too late you handed her everything. She doesn’t cheat, but she never plays fair either."

I nodded, more to myself than him. "And do you know what she’s after?"

His eyes opened—just enough to meet mine. "She wants power. To climb higher. Rise in the Hells. Influence, leverage—dominion. And stories. She loves those. Especially the ones where she plays the twist."

I tilted my head. "Is she watching us now?"

Wyll didn’t answer. Instead, he made a small motion with his hand—just a tap of one finger near his eye. Carefully, as if any more would be too much.

"And if someone wanted to speak with her?"

"Ask me anything, and she’ll know," he answered begrudgingly.

"I see," I said, taking in the information. So she sees and hears everything he does.

I stood slowly, brushing off my knees. "Looking for a way out, then?"

He snorted. "If there was one, I’d have taken it. Trust me, I’ve looked."

Another pause followed.

"You know," I said, glancing sideways. "For all her cruelty... she's damn impressive."

Wyll raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Sharp as a knife’s edge, and just as dangerous. AND breathtaking, like she was sculpted by some artist of desire. I bet she could make anyone crawl at a mere thought—and they'd thank her for it after. She might as well have the whole of Avernus dancing to her tune without them realizing." I laid it on thick.

Wyll huffed through his nose, almost a chuckle. Then he smiled—wry and tired. "Yeah... Maybe."

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me at the flap.

"Thanks. For listening."

I looked back with a small grin. "Don't get used to it."

He gave a soft laugh.

The candle guttered behind me, casting one last twitching shadow. Monstrous as he now looked, Wyll was still in there. Maybe a little quieter. Maybe less certain. But still him.

The night air had cooled. I stepped past the dying fire and made for Lae'zel’s tent—business done, now onto the fun.