The Ritual Candidate

Wyll stood, wiping his hands and straightening his already-straight collar with a practiced flair. "Well then," he said, voice clear, loud, and impossibly earnest. "I am ready."

I didn’t even lift my head. "Fine," I muttered, pointing at his tent. "In there."

He beamed. Gods, he actually beamed.

Around the circle, three expressions answered in perfect contrast. Shadowheart’s blush deepened as she busied herself with the empty bowls. Karlach grinned like she was watching a theater performance. Lae’zel hadn’t moved at all—still staring blank-eyed, like her brain had hit a strange logic wall.

Wyll walked ahead, unaware of the glances behind him. "I commend you for taking such initiative in resisting the illithid threat. Unorthodox, but noble. I’m honored to receive your care."

I followed with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

Once inside the tent, I gestured firmly. "Kneel. Close your eyes."

Wyll, still beaming, obeyed without hesitation, hands resting lightly on his knees. "Is there a chant I should repeat? Something like... 'banish thee, oh wriggling worm of the mind'?"

I didn’t answer. Instead, I muttered some vaguely arcane-sounding syllables that could pass for a chant to the untrained ear. Then I reached out and flicked him on the nose. Hard enough to make it count.

Wyll made a startled grunt, somewhere between surprise and confusion.

"That’s it," I said.

He blinked, eyes fluttering open.

"If you talk about it, it won’t work."

"Truly? Is that why the ladies were speaking in riddles during dinner?"

"...Sure," I said.

I left before he could reply. Outside, the camp had shifted subtly. Shadowheart and Karlach had silently migrated halfway to Wyll’s tent. Neither said a word.

I squinted.

Shadowheart flushed even deeper.

Karlach tilted her head and whistled innocently. "How’d it go?"

I pointed a finger at her. "You. In the pot."

She saluted, already stomping toward the cauldron.

Then I turned to Shadowheart. "You. In the tent."

"Yes," she said, nearly squeaking, and disappeared inside.

That left Lae’zel. Still at the fire. Still not blinking.

She locked eyes with me as I approached.

"Are you still... superior?"

There was no malice in her tone, only calculated assessment. In her world, sex was dominance and submission—it was hierachy, order, the very structure of command.

..I didn't like what she implied.

"Yes," I answered begrudgingly.

[Lae'zel: Approval +5]

She gave the slightest of smiles and a nod. "Then come"

She rose, turned, and vanished into her tent without another word.

And I followed.