Prototype's Gate

Act 3. Chapter 10



Karlach’s heart pounded not from fear, but from the sheer joy of being by Wyll's side. The anticipation of whatever lay ahead was nothing compared to the thrill of his presence. She stole a glance at him as they moved through the forest, his charming smile enough to send warmth radiating through her like molten lava. She squeezed his hand, feeling the heat of her own soul intensify with every step. Wyll’s calm demeanor made her feel safe, grounded, even in the face of unknown dangers.

The love she had for him—it was overwhelming, fierce, and unapologetic. She had been through hell, literally, and Wyll had come into her life like a cool breeze on her scorching inferno. He wasn’t just a man to her, he was her anchor, the one thing that kept her grounded when the rage in her heart threatened to consume her. She leaned in closer to him, her voice low and sultry as she whispered in his ear, “I’m gonna ride you till you see the stars.”

Wyll blushed, the sudden flush of red creeping up his neck. Karlach couldn't help but smile wide, feeling the fire inside her burn brighter. She reveled in the way she could make him blush, loved how even after everything, he still had that innocent charm. But just as her mind drifted toward a thousand unspoken promises, she caught something on the wind—a faint, eerie melody.

Her ears twitched. “Wait,” Karlach whispered, her body suddenly tensing as her warrior instincts kicked in. “I hear something...a song, coming from that direction.” She pointed toward the right, her fiery gaze scanning the dense woods.

Wyll’s eyes narrowed in concentration, but he shook his head slightly. “I don’t hear it, but if you do, I trust your senses.”

Beside them, Dorros, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got sharp ears. I don’t hear anything either,” he admitted, impressed. He had seen tieflings before, but Karlach—she was something else. The infernal fire in her veins mixed with the draconic scales that ran along her skin made her look like a warrior forged in battle, a woman who had survived far more than most. She radiated strength and warmth, but beneath all that, there was an infectious aura of positivity and loyalty about her.

Karlach noticed Dorros studying her, and she shot him a toothy grin. She knew her appearance was different, intimidating to some, but she was used to it. She wasn’t just a fighter—she was someone who had learned to care deeply, to cherish moments of light when surrounded by endless darkness.

"Dorros?" Wyll’s voice snapped the gnome from his thoughts.

“Sorry, was just… strategizing,” Dorros said, the lie slipping out easily. He was indeed strategizing, though not about the mission. He couldn’t help but admire Karlach, not in a romantic sense—he was too devoted to his wife for that—but in awe of her fierceness, her raw energy. There was something about her, like a volcano waiting to erupt, but in the best possible way.

Karlach wasn’t waiting for further discussion. "I say we go check it out," she said, moving ahead. Her feet moved with silent confidence despite her massive form, every muscle coiled like a predator hunting its prey. Her mind briefly wandered back to Wyll, to the idea of finishing this mission and spending more time with him. The sooner this was done, the sooner they could be together. Alone.

The eerie melody grew louder as they approached. Karlach’s skin prickled with the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. The song had a strange, hypnotic quality, as if the notes were designed to lure them deeper into the woods, into the unknown. Her hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of her war axe, her eyes darting through the thick canopy of trees, searching for movement, for danger.

Wyll stepped beside her, his own hand resting on the pommel of his infernal rapier, ready to defend her, though he knew she hardly needed defending. There was a silent understanding between them, an unspoken promise—they would fight, bleed, and die for each other if it came to that. His presence was like a soothing balm to the firestorm raging inside her heart, grounding her in a way nothing else could.

As they crept closer, the song became clearer—a haunting lullaby that sent chills down their spines. It seemed to float through the trees, weaving between the shadows and light, drawing them in with an almost irresistible pull. But Karlach wasn’t one to fall for tricks. Her time in Avernus had sharpened her instincts, taught her that sweetness often hid poison.

She glanced at Wyll, her heart swelling with determination.

“Stay close,” she said, her voice softer now, though it still carried that edge of fiery resolve. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

She led the way, her movements careful but purposeful. Wyll and Dorros followed, keeping a close eye on the shifting shadows between the trees.

As they neared the source of the sound, the air grew lighter, almost playful. The trees seemed to sway in rhythm with the melody, and a sense of joy, as light as spring itself, began to fill the air. Suddenly, a voice—musical, teasing—rang out from nowhere.

“Oh, look what the wind brought me today!” The voice was full of laughter, echoing from every direction. Karlach stopped, fists clenched as she scanned the surroundings. Wyll's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, and Dorros tensed, his gaze shifting nervously.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves above them, and before they could react, a handful of flower petals scattered over their heads, raining down like confetti. Karlach looked up, startled, her hand brushing the petals from her hair.

"What in the Nine Hells?" she muttered.

Another burst of laughter echoed around them, light and joyous. "Oh, don’t look so serious! Can’t you enjoy a little bit of fun?"

Wyll's brow furrowed as he glanced around. "Show yourself. "

At his words, a figure materialized in front of them, stepping out from behind a tree as if the forest had simply decided to give him form. The man was tall and willowy, with eyes the color of fresh spring leaves, and hair shimmering like golden sunlight. His entire being seemed to radiate joy, his every movement graceful and light as he twirled in place, a wreath of wildflowers adorning his head.

"Who’s playing games? I’m just here to brighten your day!" the stranger said, flashing them a wide grin.

Dorros narrowed his eyes, taking a step back. "What in the world are you?"

The stranger didn’t answer directly. Instead, he plucked a bright yellow daisy from the ground, spun it in his fingers, and tossed it playfully toward Wyll, who caught it reflexively, frowning.

"Just a friend," the stranger said with a wink, before disappearing behind a nearby tree.

Wyll glanced at Karlach, bewildered, but before either of them could speak, the ground beneath their feet shifted. A thin layer of moss rose up, slicking the forest floor. Karlach’s boot slipped, and she grabbed onto Wyll to steady herself.

"Whoa!" Karlach barked, half-laughing despite herself. "What is going on?"

The stranger’s laughter rang out again, and this time, he appeared sitting on a low branch above them, legs swinging back and forth. "You’re all so serious! Lighten up, it’s spring! The world is full of life and laughter—why not enjoy it?"

Dorros shook his head, clearly not amused. "We’re on a mission, spirit. We don’t have time for your games."

"Oh, but there’s always time for joy!" The man flipped off the branch, landing lightly on his feet. "You’ve been through so much, haven’t you? Just let go for a moment, and see how much brighter the world can be."

Karlach crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Yeah, sure. And what, exactly, are you supposed to be? You don’t look like any spirit I’ve ever heard of."

The figure paused, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Let’s just say I’m the embodiment of spring itself. I’m here to bring laughter, light, and a little bit of chaos." He grinned again, wider this time, and before they could stop him, he waved his hand, sending a cascade of bubbles floating through the air.

Wyll slashed through one with his rapier, only for it to reform immediately. "We don’t have time for this," he muttered.

The stranger simply giggled. "Oh, you mortals... always in such a rush. Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to your dreary mission, but remember—spring is for laughter!" He leaped into the air, spinning in a swirl of leaves and petals, disappearing into the woods with one final, carefree laugh.

For a moment, there was silence. The clearing, now free of the playful figure, felt strangely empty.

Wyll looked at Karlach, shaking his head. "Well... that was unexpected."

Karlach smirked. "Yeah, but I kinda liked him. Weird, but... fun."

Dorros sighed, brushing a petal from his shoulder. "Let’s just hope that’s the last prank we see today. We've got work to do."

They pressed on through the forest, each step sinking into the soft, loamy earth. The vibrant colors of the afternoon had dimmed, and shadows now stretched long and eerie, like the fingers of some forgotten memory clawing at the edge of their senses. It was an unsettling contrast to the earlier mischief.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with the last embers of daylight, Karlach suddenly stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as realization dawned on her.

"Guys," she said, her voice tinged with quiet understanding. "I think that spring spirit was our singer."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the silence was absolute. Wyll looked at Dorros, his brow furrowed, and they both sighed almost in unison. The realization brought a mixture of relief and frustration. They had spent the better part of the day chasing an elusive song, only to be led into a whimsical game by an otherworldly being whose intentions, while harmless, had distracted them from their true mission only to realize that the spirit was their mission.

"At least we know he isn’t harmful," Wyll said, his voice soft, though there was a lingering uncertainty in his tone. "I hope."

Dorros grunted in agreement, though the weariness in his expression spoke volumes. They had wasted precious time, and with nightfall rapidly approaching, they would need to return to the village without any answers. The weight of that failure settled heavily on all of them.

The three of them turned back toward the village, their steps slow, heavy with the day’s disappointment. The forest, which had been filled with playful energy earlier, now felt cold and distant. As they walked, Karlach’s eyes lingered on the path ahead, her thoughts drifting.

"I guess we’re not getting any closer tonight," she muttered, her voice barely audible. Despite her usual fire, even Karlach felt the sting of defeat.

The sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only a thin line of twilight to guide their way home. The warmth of the day was gone, replaced by a chill that crept through the trees and into their bones. The forest felt different now, quieter and more foreboding, as if the spirit’s laughter had been the only thing holding the shadows at bay.

___________________________

As Tav, Gale, and Astarion emerged from the tunnel, the cool evening air greeted them, carrying the fading warmth of the setting sun. The sky was painted with hues of orange and purple, but none of them found beauty in it—not after what they had just witnessed. Tav's heart felt like it was lodged in his throat, weighed down by the grim reality of Orbis’ fate. His eyes flicked to Bullet, who sat patiently by the tunnel, like a loyal sentinel. Tav absently patted the landshark’s thick hide, though his mind was already racing ahead to the task that awaited him—telling Hela the devastating truth.

As they walked back toward the village, the silence between them was heavy, each step a reminder of the loss they carried ,at least that was the case for Gale and Tav. Just as the village came into view, a figure emerged from the shadows—Shadow, materializing as if from thin air. His sudden appearance would’ve startled anyone else, but the group had become accustomed to his eerie presence.

"Alpha has summoned you to the mayor's house. It's important," Shadow said, his voice as quiet and sharp as a whisper on the wind. Without waiting for a response, he vanished once again into the shadows, leaving only the faint trace of his presence.

The three of them stood still for a moment, the weight of Shadow's words adding yet another layer of tension to an already overwhelming day.

Tav’s gaze flickered toward his companions. Gale’s expression was unreadable, but Astarion’s brow furrowed, his usual smirk absent for once.

“What do we do?” Gale asked, his voice careful, knowing the decision wasn’t an easy one.

Tav clenched his jaw. The Alex’s summons could be urgent, but there was something more pressing—something he couldn’t put off any longer. His mind kept returning to Hela, the frail, hopeful woman who had been waiting for any news of her son. He had to be the one to tell her the truth, and every minute he delayed felt like a betrayal.

“I’ll go to Hela,” Tav said, the words heavy with responsibility. “She deserves to know the truth. You two... head to the mayor's house. I’ll catch up.”

Astarion and Gale nodded, understanding. There were no words of comfort to offer, no reassurances that could make this easier.

As they turned toward the mayor’s house, Tav took a deep breath and made his way through the village streets, his heart pounding with dread. Each step felt heavier than the last as the weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him like a leaden cloak. The quaint houses and the paths blurred as his mind raced with how he could possibly explain what had happened to Orbis.

When he finally reached Hela’s small, weathered home, Tav paused outside the door, hesitating for a moment. The wooden door, chipped and worn from years of use, seemed like an impassable barrier between him and the inevitable heartbreak waiting inside. How do you tell a mother that her child is gone? That he had suffered, that they had arrived too late? Tav steeled himself, taking a slow, deliberate breath. He knocked softly, the sound somehow feeling too loud for the somber task ahead.

A few heartbeats later, the door creaked open, and Hela stood before him. The lines of worry and exhaustion were etched deep into her face, but her eyes still held a flicker of hope—hope that Tav knew would soon be extinguished. Her frail frame seemed even smaller in the doorway, and the sight of her only twisted the knot of guilt and sorrow in Tav’s chest.

As Tav stood in the doorway, watching the life drain from Hela’s eyes, he could feel the weight of the moment crushing him. Her fragile frame trembled, her breathing shallow as if the grief itself was suffocating her. She stared at the floor, the world slipping away from her as she whispered her son’s name over and over, her voice breaking with every breath.

"My Orbis... my sweet boy... why?"

Tav reached out again, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, but it was as if she didn't feel it. Hela's body seemed to shrink even more, her sorrow pulling her inward, hollowing her out until she was but a shell of the woman who had once waited for her son's return. Her tears stopped flowing, and her sobs turned into silence, a terrifying stillness that filled the room with a suffocating weight.

"I should have been faster," Tav muttered, though he knew it was too late for any of that now.

Hela blinked slowly, her lips parting slightly as though she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her eyes, once filled with hope, now glazed over with a distant, vacant look. She swayed on her feet, and Tav stepped forward to steady her, but it was as though her strength had simply vanished, taken by the cruel truth she could no longer bear.

"Hela..." Tav whispered, panic tightening in his chest as he saw the change in her. "Hela, please, sit down. You need to rest."

But she didn’t respond. Her breathing had grown faint, each inhale shallower than the last. Tav felt dread claw at his throat as he gently guided her toward the chair by the table. She collapsed into it without resistance, her hands slipping from his grasp as they fell limply to her sides. The silence between them grew unbearable, the sound of her weakening breaths the only thing breaking the stillness.

Tav knelt before her, gripping her hands, feeling how cold they had become. "Hela," he urged softly, his heart pounding. "You’re strong. Stay with me."

But she didn’t hear him. Her gaze remained unfocused, staring past him into a world beyond. Her chest rose and fell slower, the rhythm of life fading like the last glow of sunset. Tav could feel her slipping away, and a fresh wave of helplessness washed over him.

"Hela, don’t..." His voice cracked. "Please, not like this."

Tav quickly summoned a ethereal flower and place it in her cold hand ,but it was useless . His powers gave strength to the mind , to push trough strong emotions but this...His powers seemed useless, they couldn't heal a broken heart.

He tightened his grip on her hands, but there was nothing left to hold onto. The strength, the will to live—everything had been stolen from her by the crushing weight of losing her son. She had nothing left. Her frail body, already worn down by years of worry and hardship, could not bear the final blow of this grief.

In one final exhale, her chest rose and fell for the last time. Her eyes closed, her face peaceful, as though the pain had finally left her. Tav felt her hand go slack in his, and his heart stopped for a moment, refusing to believe what had just happened.

“Hela?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But there was no response. Just silence. The kind of silence that suffocates, that fills every corner of a room with the deafening absence of life.

Tav felt his own breath catch in his throat, his chest tightening as he realized—she was gone. The woman, the mother he had failed to bring solace to, was gone. Hela had died of a broken heart, her spirit shattered by the loss of the one thing she had lived for.

A sob escaped Tav's lips as he slumped to the floor beside her. He felt the tears spill over, his chest heaving as guilt and sorrow consumed him. He had faced monsters and horrors beyond imagining, but nothing had prepared him for this—the quiet death of a woman whose heart had simply given up. He pressed his forehead against the back of her hand, his body shaking with the weight of his grief.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered through his tears. "I’m so, so sorry."

Tav sat in the darkness, holding onto Hela’s lifeless hand, as if by sheer will he could somehow bring her back. But it was too late. He had lost them both—Orbis, and now Hela. Two lives, extinguished by a cruel and merciless world.

And as the night deepened, Tav knew that the guilt of this moment would stay with him forever.

_______

Tav stumbled into the mayor’s house, his steps heavy as if every stride dragged the weight of the world behind him. His gaze swept the room, searching for something—anything—that would make the pain in his chest feel lighter. Instead, he found the familiar faces of his companions, all of them seated or standing around the room, but now staring at him, their eyes filled with worry. Alex, Astarion, Gale, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, Dorros, Lilimila, Orssa, and Glut—every eye in the room locked onto him, waiting for his words.

He tried to speak, but the lump in his throat refused to give way. His mouth was dry, and his chest felt tight, the grief clawing at him from the inside. “Hela...” he began, but the name caught in his throat. It felt too final, too cruel. He glanced down, his heart pounding in his ears as he forced himself to say the word that would break their hearts. “...died.”

The room seemed to stop, time hanging in the silence after his words. Dorros froze, his strong exterior faltering as he stared at Tav in disbelief. Orssa’s hand clenched into a trembling fist at her side, her knuckles white as her composure shattered. Lilimila gasped softly, her hand rising to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Gale too seemed shaken, his face pale. Tav could feel the grief rippling through the room, echoing his own. The air was thick with sorrow, suffocating them all.

Dorros stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate, as if trying to hold onto whatever calm remained. His eyes, however, betrayed him—the tears welling at the corners made it clear he was barely holding it together. “What happened to her?” Dorros’ voice was steady, but the emotion beneath it made every word quiver like the calm before a storm.

Tav swallowed, guilt and sorrow crashing over him in waves. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. “It’s my fault. He died because of me. If only I had been faster, if I knew stronger magic...” His voice broke, and his fist clenched at his side, trembling with the weight of his failure. “Orbis wouldn’t have died.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that left no room for comfort, only shared pain. Gale stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Tav’s shoulder, the familiar gesture of solidarity offering little solace. The knot of grief in Tav’s chest tightened, refusing to loosen. Nothing could ease the agony of knowing he had failed—not just Orbis, but Hela as well. And now, they were both gone.

Dorros said nothing. He simply turned and walked past Tav, his footsteps echoing in the stillness as he left the house. Tav could only watch as Dorros disappeared, knowing that no words could bring solace.

Orssa approached him next. Her face was pale, but her eyes held a surprising strength. She met Tav’s gaze, her voice soft but unwavering. “It’s not your fault,” she said gently. “Your friends told me what happened. Don’t beat yourself up so hard.”

Her kindness hit him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t meet her eyes for long and nodded weakly in response, the guilt gnawing at him from the inside. He sank into a nearby chair, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief, his gaze fixed on the wooden floor, the grain of the wood a blur beneath the tears welling in his eyes.

Alex watched him quietly from the corner of the room, his own heart heavy with understanding. He knew the feeling all too well—the crushing weight of failure, the hollow ache of watching life slip away and knowing you couldn’t stop it. There were no easy words for moments like this. No comfort that could erase the sting of loss.

Alex took a deep breath. They would talk later. Tav needed time to process the grief, and Alex would be there when he was ready. But for now, there was still a task ahead of them, and they couldn’t afford to crumble under the weight of their sorrow. Alex stepped forward, ready to explain his findings and what they needed to do next.


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