Chapter Text
Growing up as a cleric devoted to Shar, Shadowheart scarcely bothered with the topic of soulmates. The very notion that anything or anyone could hold any significance comparable to Shar was a sentiment so foolish that it bordered on blasphemy. Nevertheless, it wasn't as if she could avoid the concept of soulmates forever, given that the outside world’s chatter has a knack for penetrating even the darkest of corners.
Shadowheart wasn't certain whether or not she knew of soulmates before her quest to secure the artifact for Lady Shar. Reflecting on her past left her mind feeling foggy and hollow. At times, she could nearly sense the missing fragments of her memory—a transient sensation of warmth she could almost grasp before it eluded her, leaving her feeling cold and empty once more. It is hardly worth the effort, she found, rallying against her Lady’s will was as pointless as it was time-consuming.
Regardless, even without her memories to reflect upon, she finds it difficult to believe this would be her first time learning of soulmates, based on much she has been exposed to the concept just in the past couple of weeks. It appears that there are certain things that even her dark mistress can't shield her from.
The cleric would be lying if she said that the idea didn’t somewhat interest her. It was a rather romantic notion that there was someone out there destined to share her pain, and that this person was also meant to be her "perfect match." Whatever that implied. Regardless of her interest, it was difficult for her to envision someone to match that description. Shadowheart scarcely even knows who she is outside of her current mission, let alone what an ideal match for her would even be. Outside of storybook princes and princesses, that truthfully didn’t even sound that appealing to her in the first place. She just can’t picture it; love was a concept she wasn't familiar with. But pain—pain was something she comprehended all too well.
One of the advantages of being a devotee of Shar was the assurance that pain would accompany her like the rising and setting of the sun. Even without her memories, Shadowheart is keenly aware she must have endured a significant amount of pain throughout her life, as her body quickly recognizes its presence. It is as if her body understands her pain better than she comprehends anything else. In fact, it is through this understanding that she is certain that she does, in fact, have a soulmate.
She can easily discern the distinction between old or recurring injuries versus the new ones she acquires through combat. Not only that, but physical pain and magical pain carry distinct sensations that help her quickly differentiate between them. For example, the pain bestowed upon her by Lady Shar possesses its own unique, intense quality that makes it impossible for her to confuse it with anything else. However, since starting her mission, she has become acutely aware of another, more unfamiliar, source of pain.
Initially, she hadn't paid much attention to it, mostly because her mission had been full of dangers and challenges that left Shadowheart feeling utterly battered even on her best days. After all, a few additional unexplained pains were simply an expected addition to the plethora of suffering she already endured. However, as time went on, she began to take note of certain…inconsistencies.
For instance, she distinctly felt physical pain—bruises and cuts that should have been limited to the surface of her skin—erupting from within her, bubbling up to the surface of her skin from some unknown source. Moreover, these pains would manifest in places where she hadn't sustained any injuries or where her armor provided coverage. Sometimes, she felt them even during the rare moments when she had been able to rest. What was most strange to her was the fact that it just didn’t feel like her own pain. Even though she could feel the sensation clearly attacking her very nerves, it still felt almost alien to her. It was only the knowledge of shared pain between soulmates that prevented her from assuming she had descended into complete madness.
So it seemed that her dear soulmate led an equally active lifestyle. Shadowheart couldn't recall a day when her muscles didn't ache or when her soulmate didn't acquire some fresh wound that needed tending. If her soulmate had access to a healer, they certainly didn't take advantage of those services. The only solace she found was that the pain of a soulmate didn't linger as long as the pain from actual injuries typically did. Although she couldn't help but think it was only fair that her soulmate would be so reckless, considering the amount of pain Shadowheart herself likely inflicted upon the poor soul during her lifetime, and especially the last couple of weeks.
Shadowheart's current mission was…risky, to say the least. Her mission demanded that she journey into uncharted territory to steal a coveted artifact from the Githyanki—a treasured object that she was given no information on other than its appearance. While she and her fellow Sharran brethren were well aware that this endeavor would be no easy feat, that knowledge still did not prepare them for the actual battle. The Gith warriors fought with relentless ferocity, leaving Shadowheart as the sole survivor among her Sharran comrades. Their sacrifice was undoubtedly the only reason Shadowheart herself managed to escape that nightmarish encounter. It was a harrowing price to pay, but she emerged with The Nightsinger’s coveted prize, fully prepared to return to Baldur's Gate.
That had been the plan, at least. Shortly after her escape, she had been found by the Mindflayer ship, bound and restrained, and they inserted some… thing into her eye. And just when she thought it was over for the moment, she felt something else touch her again, even though there were no Mindflayers around her anymore. The invisible forces seemed to pry her eye open once more as something pushed insistently against her socket, demanding further entry. Every nerve in her body screamed in protest against the invasion, as the foreign object wriggled and squirmed deeper into her head for the second time. She had frantically clawed and scratched at her face in a futile and desperate attempt to halt the violation of her being. It was useless, of course; nothing was touching her.
Her heart plummeted as the sudden realization washed over her. Her soulmate—there was no other explanation. They must also be here, suffering just as she was. The mere thought of failing Lady Shar and losing her soulmate, two of her greatest nightmares, became a very real possibility in one agonizing moment and threatened to break her completely. It was all too much, and she succumbed to the relentless throbbing in her head.
________________________________
When Shadowheart regained consciousness, a heavy darkness enveloped her, obscuring her vision beyond the confines of the container that held her captive. Normally, darkness is a welcome sight, but the thickness made it so all she could perceive was a hazy, blood-stained red hue and the intense and growing flickers of fire. The light of the flames was being suffocated by the dense black smoke it generated. The fog was so thick that it somehow managed to seep through the cracks of her prison, invading her very being. A raspy cough escaped her lips, igniting a searing sensation in her throat as the noxious smoke infiltrated her lungs. She had no time to dwell on the agony as she felt an all too familiar wriggling sensation behind her eye.
It had to be that accursed parasite the creatures forced on her; the sensation was undeniable. It thrummed within her, as if it too was awakening from slumber. She fought the impulse to claw at her eye once more, recognizing that dealing with whatever was currently lodged in her head would have to wait. First and foremost, she needed to find an escape from this vessel. She doesn’t know what happened after she passed out, but if the billowing smoke was any indication…it was nothing good.
Shadowheart frantically searched for anything that could be used to help her escape. That’s when her hands stumbled upon an unusual object tucked into the side of her armor. It was the artifact—the very reason she was here in the first place— she had nearly forgotten about it amidst the chaos. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had managed to hold onto it. As she held it in her palms, she noticed a faint glow emanating from it, accompanied by a gentle hum and pulsating energy. Curious. Has it always seemed so... alive?
She wasn't given much time to ponder it. The ship lurched violently, causing her to slam into the side of the pod. She needed to find a way out, but the mechanisms on this ship looked far too alien to her to figure out. She could see a console of sorts out of the corner of her vision. Perhaps that could free her, but she had no way of getting to it from here.
Shadowheart felt herself losing what little hope she had, her spirit fading in the suffocating darkness. But then, amidst the despair, she heard footsteps. Metal armor boots slammed into the ground not too far away, drawing nearer. Urgency surged through her. She thrust her hands against the front of her prison, creating as much noise as she could manage. Her throat seized as she called out, but she refused to let that hinder her. She had come too far to meet her end in this wretched place.
Through the smoke that shrouded the air, she could make out a faint figure. It was humanoid in shape, wearing armor, and they were noticeably smaller in size, almost reaching Shadowheart's height or perhaps slightly shorter. The person seemed to be clutching their throat, having as much trouble with the noxious fumes as she was. She prepared to call out once more, but her voice halted as the figure became clearer. The silver armor they wore, accompanied by the ghastly features, there was no mistaking it. Her only hope of escape was a gith.
Instinctively, Shadowheart tucked the artifact back into the protective folds of her armor. A Githyanki attacking a mindflayer vessel was not exactly an unheard-of scenario, considering their turbulent history. However, she couldn't dismiss the possibility that their presence might be connected to her. Anxiety gnawed at her already frayed nerves, tempting her to consider allowing the gith to pass her pod without bringing attention to herself. But such a decision would be suicide. Trapped, her fate was sealed. If she could manage to escape, dangerous as it may be, she would at least have a fighting chance at survival.
“Get me out of this damned thing!” She pleaded, but if the gith had heard her, she made no indication of it. The other woman looked as though she was going to walk right past until a sudden psionic pulse halted her in her tracks and made Shadowheart herself wince in overwhelming discomfort.
The sensation wasn’t necessarily painful, but the pressure was intense, as if her thoughts and feelings were no longer exclusively hers. The gith must also be infected and, like her, unable to ignore the forced connection between them. Shadowheart felt like she was seeing double as she was connected with the other women’s minds. She could feel it, the woman's fierce determination to survive. She never knew someone’s emotions could be so unyielding. That is a problem; a person like this would never endanger their own safety for a stranger. No doubt the gith could feel Shadowheart’s wariness of her, contrasting violently with her desperate yearning for freedom. She highly doubts that would really be enough to persuade the gith to help. Anger arose in her at once, anger at the gith, at the mindflayers, at the damn worm in her eye, at this entire situation she had no business being a part of. If initial thoughts did nothing to intrigue the other woman, her anger certainly did. She stopped to eye her curiously for a moment.
“You have not yet transformed... or perished. The same cannot be said for them, however…" the Gith spoke with a chilling coldness as she gestured toward the lifeless bodies strewn across the floor, their presence only now catching Shadowheart's attention. A sickening twist churned in her stomach as she imagined her soulmate among those bodies, their life so easily snuffed out like countless others aboard this vessel, while she lay unconscious and useless a mere couple of feet away. More anger and frustration, that gith could still be felt based on the bewildered expression she directed at Shadowheart. Curse these parasites, she will need to be more careful in guarding her thoughts from prying eyes…well, prying worms.
“…This will be all of our fates too if I do not make it to the helm in time." The underlying message was clear—the Gith had no intention of freeing her after all.
"Wait!" Shadowheart interjected, desperation lacing her voice. "It's too dangerous to go by yourself. There are enemies ahead, I saw them. You'll need an ally if you want to stand a chance of making it there in one piece."
It was a lie; Shadowheart had no clue if anyone else was alive on this ship besides herself and the Gith woman in front of her. However, despite the lack of evidence, she couldn't dismiss the likelihood of encountering further threats. She conjures up vivid images of the mindflayers she had encountered earlier, hoping to further sell her lie. It was enough to make the Gith woman ponder her words.
Shadowheart could see—no feel the woman's conflict, caught between the desire for aid and the drive for self-preservation. A chilling shiver ran down Shadowheart's spine as she realized which inclination was prevailing.
"I will have to take my chances," the Gith woman finally declared, turning away from her.
Shadowheart continues to call out but knows deep down that it is pointless. With each step the Gith took, hope for her own survival dwindled further. The realization settled heavily upon her shoulders—she would die here, alone, a failure to both her goddess and her soulmate.
In a final act of desperation, Shadowheart offered one last prayer to Lady Shar for protection. Imploring her to let her finish the mission and to carry out her bidding. She dared not utter a prayer for her soulmate's safety, but that doesn’t stop her from desiring it nonetheless.