Prototype's Gate

“It’s about your friends that Balthazar killed,” Alex said softly, his words striking Dolly like a blow. The color drained from her face, and her usually vibrant wings seemed to dull as realization set in.

“What do you know about it, you deep shit? And what if it does? What can you do!?” she shouted, her small fists clenched as she flew so close to Alex’s face that he could feel the fury radiating from her tiny form. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a sharp reminder of the pain she had buried.

Alex’s expression softened, a flicker of pity and understanding crossing his face. Balthazar’s memories replayed in his mind like a twisted reel, images of the horrors that dark soul had inflicted on Dolly’s friends. Alex clenched his jaw, feeling the echo of their suffering, how Balthazar had taken pleasure in breaking the spirits of the pixies before snuffing them out.

“Believe me,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “I understand better than you think.”

Dolly glared at him, anger and sorrow warring in her gaze. For a moment, she looked like she might spit right in his face but, at the last moment, she turned and spat to the side, the venom in her action unmistakable. She opened her mouth, perhaps to hurl another insult, but the words froze in her throat as the world around her began to fade.

Confusion and fear flashed across her face as Alex silently forged a mind bridge, pulling her gently but inexorably into his thoughts. She felt a strange pressure, an intense connection to something vast as his mind wrapped around her consciousness.

“You’re… gonna… pay… for this,” Dolly stammered, but her voice came out weak and trembling, her usual fire dimmed. Before her, three faintly glowing figures appeared, their forms fragile, shimmering like starlight caught in the wind. Her heart caught in her chest as recognition bloomed, and she felt a tear slip from her eye, though she tried desperately to keep her composure.

There they were: her friends, the pixies she’d thought she’d never see again, not even in memory. Their faces were etched with a softness that spoke of peace, even as they glowed in their spectral forms. They looked as they had before, unscarred by the torture that had claimed their lives.

“Glory… Flicker… Juniper…,” Dolly whispered, her voice breaking as she uttered each name. She floated closer, trembling as she reached out, her tiny fingers hovering over the images, afraid they would vanish if she touched them.

“They’ve been waiting,” Alex said gently, sensing her hesitation. “I thought you might want a chance… to say goodbye.”

Dolly’s voice cracked, and she looked up at him, something raw and vulnerable flickering in her eyes. “Why? Why would you do this?”

“Because I know what it feels like to lose people… people who mattered,” Alex replied, his gaze steady. “And because… I don’t think conquest is what you truly want, not when you still carry them in your heart.”

Dolly’s hardened exterior melted as she turned back to her friends, the walls she’d built around her heart crumbling. She floated closer, her fingers brushing softly against their forms. “I… I’m so sorry . I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she choked out, each word laced with years of guilt and pain.

The pixies’ faces softened, and Glory’s spirit lifted a tiny, shimmering hand, resting it on Dolly’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Dolly. We’ve found peace…” Glory whispered, her voice gentle, like a breeze through a forest glade.

Dolly’s tears fell freely now, each drop sparkling like diamonds in the darkness. She turned to Alex, her voice barely a murmur. “Thank you… for letting me see them again. I don’t know if I can keep doing this… conquering. I thought it would make the pain go away, but…”

“Maybe it’s time to let go,” Alex replied, his voice full of quiet compassion. “To remember them, not through conquest, but by keeping their memory alive in peace.”

Dolly nodded slowly, clutching the memories of her friends close. The anger that had driven her so fiercely seemed to ebb, replaced by a profound, aching sadness. As she turned back to the spirits, the weight of her unspoken goodbyes lifted, and a gentle warmth filled the void, a glimmer of hope where rage had once been.

The world shifted, and Dolly found herself blinking back in the familiar meadow. The soft grasses swayed in a breeze, and flowers dotted the landscape, their colors vivid and bright. But something felt wrong. She scanned the meadow, her gaze sharpening as she realized that Alex and his party were nowhere to be seen. They were gone.

Dolly's heart dropped, and she immediately turned to Queen Plea, the ethereal monarch of the pleasantries. "Plea… they even took some of your dreamers," she said, her voice laced with disbelief and urgency.

Queen Plea’s expression was frozen, her usually serene face twisted in confusion as though she were waking from a half-remembered dream. After a few moments, her focus snapped back to the present. "What? They… they took my dreamers?" she murmured, disoriented and visibly shaken.

Dolly narrowed her eyes, scanning the meadow and noticing Plea's pleasantries. They seemed empty, their vacant stares fixed on nothing, their usual soft smiles hollow.

"How did you not see it?” Dolly demanded, growing angrier by the second. “I thought you were watching them!"

"I… I was,” Plea stammered, looking down, lost. “I swear, I was looking at them just a moment ago…”

"That ugly brute—Zeus,” Dolly spat, her fists clenched tightly as her wings beat with agitation. “He must’ve done something to you while he distracted me!"

Dolly’s frustration hit a fever pitch, and she spun, darting across the meadow toward the nearby bushes, desperate to make sure it was still there . She brushed aside branches and leaves, hoping to find it . But then, she froze, her eyes widening.

“SHIIIIIT!!” Dolly screamed, bolting back toward Plea, her tiny body practically vibrating with fury. “That sneaky, thieving motherfucker—he took the tome!” She gripped her head in both hands, her wings trembling with pure, unfiltered rage.

“Dolly,” Plea said softly, her voice calm yet firm. “Watch your tongue.”

Dolly winced, muttering a curt “Sorry,” before pacing back and forth. Her anger was still boiling over, and her gaze snapped to the left as she caught sight of a eladrin man lounging beneath a tree, watching her with an amused smile. His expression was wide, lazy, and almost taunting.

Dolly’s fury ignited anew as she flew straight up to his face, fists clenched, practically shouting into his ear. “Why did you just sit there and let them steal the tome? The dreamers? They got away right under your nose, and all you did was watch!”

The eladrin chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I wanted to see your expression as you realize they had succeeded,” he replied, his tone as smooth and unbothered as a breeze.

Dolly’s eyes narrowed to furious slits, and she crossed her arms, her voice a sharp lash. “Well, congratulations. For a noble, you’re a really, really dumb one.” Her voice was a snarl, dripping with disgust as she turned away, muttering under her breath about the incompetence around her.

The eladrin only laughed, seemingly unaffected, as Dolly flew off in a storm of anger, her mind racing with plans for vengeance.

_______

As the group moved swiftly through the forest, Kalrach adjusted her grip on the two dreamers she was carrying, glancing back as they fled. Her voice softened. “I feel kinda bad for them,” she murmured, her gaze momentarily heavy with empathy.

Astarion, however, rolled his eyes with a wry smile. “Feel bad? Please. Feel bad for me! What a shame I didn’t get to see their faces, especially that little pixie with the rage issues. I’d have paid for that view.”

Gale’s gaze stayed forward, thoughtful. “But why didn’t we take all the dreamers?”

Alex, leading the way, didn’t look back as he replied. “They’re better off there, asleep. I checked their minds. They’re… happier with the pleasantries.” His voice carried a note of something between sorrow and resignation.

Gale nodded, his expression solemn, and Shadowheart whispered, her voice barely audible, “Poor souls. Life must have been cruel to them.”

Ahead, Lae'zel pointed to a strange, shimmering puddle encircled by vibrant, multi-colored flowers, each one larger and more dazzling than the last. “There is the portal,” she announced, voice steady as steel. One by one, they entered, each figure slipping through the portal and disappearing from the Feywild. Alex lingered a moment longer, casting one last glance around the ethereal landscape before stepping through.

As he emerged, he felt the pull of time and space twist around him, until he was suddenly standing in a quiet clearing beneath a sky painted with starlight, the familiar chill of their own world settling over him. He straightened quickly, feeling the weight of his power shift as he focused on the orb. A hum of energy poured out, and slowly the magic of the portal faded until there was nothing left.

He let out a quiet breath, glancing around. Moonlight bathed the area in a soft glow, and there, lying gently upon the grass, were the dreamers they’d managed to save, each one breathing peacefully. As he scanned the clearing, his gaze landed on Lilimila, clutching her sister tightly as tears traced silent paths down her face.

“Lilimila?” came a faint voice, barely a whisper. Valni’s eyes fluttered open, her expression dazed as she focused on her sister. “Lili… why are you crying?”

Lilimila’s lips curved into a trembling smile, and she held Valni even closer. “I’m just… happy to see you,” she replied, her voice cracking with relief. Her hands shook as she cradled her sister, as if afraid that letting go would somehow make her vanish again.

Alex averted his gaze, giving them a moment, but his attention shifted as he noticed a shadow shift at the edge of the clearing. He signaled to his companions to wait and walked quietly into the woods, where from the shadows emerged a silent figure—the hunter, Shadow.

Alex placed his hand softly on the hunter’s head, and a flood of memories washed over him. A month had passed since they’d entered the Feywild. Only a few hours in that other realm, but here, time had stretched on.

The hunter looked at Alex, his piercing eyes catching the moonlight as he nodded, silently recounting his vigil. 'I did as you commanded. I’ve kept watch, capturing every fey creature and slayed any undead that lurked near Anga Vled. Nine days ago, a Githyanki patrol came close, but they left quickly.'

Alex gave a solemn nod, his mind processing the hunter’s report. His hand lingered a moment on Shadow’s shoulder, acknowledging the loyalty that had brought him through those silent, watchful weeks. Then, without another word, he turned and made his way back to the party, the memory of their journey echoing in the quiet night.

As Alex returned to his companions, he gave them a wry smile. "I have some good news and some bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?" His voice held a casual lightness, but a certain heaviness shadowed his gaze.

“Bad,” Astarion and Glut said in unison, smirking as if they couldn’t resist a good tragedy.

“Good,” countered Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach, while the others looked on in silent anticipation.

Alex shrugged. “Majority wins. The good news is, the village is safe. Nothing happened while we were away.” He paused, letting the relief settle before he continued. “The bad news…” He drew in a breath. “A month has passed here.”

“Hells!” Karlach muttered, her eyes widening. “We barely spent a quarter of a day in the Feywild! I think.” She whistled, shaking her head. “Time’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”

Gale nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. “It could’ve been far worse. I’ve read stories of adventurers spending mere days in the Feywild, only to return years later. Some even had time catch up to them—turning them into withered old souls in mere moments.”

The thought made Shadowheart shudder, and Karlach crossed her arms with a scowl.

“I hope I never set foot in that damned place again,” muttered Lae'zel from the edge of the group.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Tav chimed in, shrugging. “You know, except for the nightmares, the time shifts, and the general warping of reality.”

“Tsk.” Lae'zel shot him a look. “It would’ve been better if you’d said nothing.”

“What are we waiting for?” Wyll interjected, a note of impatience in his voice. “We should head for Baldur’s Gate right away.”

Alex raised a calming hand. “We will—once we bring Valni and Lilimila home. We need to make sure the dreamers we saved are capable of taking care of themselves.”

As Alex said these words, his surroundings suddenly shifted, and he found himself standing in a vast, open field bathed in gentle light. Soft grass swayed in a breeze that seemed to carry the warmth of dawn, and in the middle of it stood a familiar figure, radiant and serene.

“Hey, Alex,” Lathander greeted him with a warm smile, his voice echoing with a playful cheerfulness. “I tried reaching out to you several times, but, well, different planes make these things… difficult.” He gestured to the grass beside him. “Come sit with me. Let’s have a chat.”

Alex sat down, taking in the sight of the endless dawn spreading across the sky. Despite the suddenness of the shift, he felt a strange peace, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Lathander’s tone grew more serious. “Tell me, Alex—how is your soul?”

Alex looked away, his gaze following the warm colors of the sky. “It’s healing… slowly,” he replied, his voice quieter.

“Slowly?” Lathander chuckled, a warm, amused sound. “You’re underselling yourself ,given the necromantic memories you carry.I’d say your soul is mending at an astonishing rate, especially considering the damage you sustained when you nearly…” He trailed off, choosing his words carefully.

Alex cut him off. “I didn’t try to ascend.”

Lathander nodded knowingly, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I know, but you felt it, didn’t you? Just a touch more divine energy, and you would’ve stepped into godhood—a lesser deity, perhaps, but…” His voice softened, as if they shared a secret, “Ao’s presence stopped you. But, in truth, I don’t think you’d have accepted godhood, even if he hadn’t intervened.”

“This ‘god’ thing… it doesn’t suit me,” Alex muttered.

“If you say so,” Lathander replied with a hint of mischief. “Still, to endure such soul-shattering damage and shrug it off as you did… you’re truly remarkable, Alex.”

A silence stretched between them, filled with the gentle rustling of grass. Finally, Alex broke it. “How… how is Eilistraee?”

Lathander’s expression shifted, a faint sadness dimming his bright eyes. “She’s weakened,” he admitted, his voice softer. “If Selune and I hadn’t shared some of our own divinity, she would’ve lost her place among the gods.” He looked at Alex with compassion. “But don’t blame yourself. She chose to help you.”

Alex nodded, though he couldn’t shake the weight on his chest. “I know that, but… I can’t help feeling selfish for accepting her aid.”

Lathander chuckled gently. “You’ve changed, Alex. And that’s good—it’s what life’s all about, after all.”

Alex felt a faint smile on his lips. “Yeah… I suppose I have.”

“Good, good,” Lathander echoed, his tone brightening. “Now, I do have a favor to ask. A task that would benefit us both.” He raised a hand quickly, preemptively. “No pressure, of course.”

“If it’s along my path, I can take it on,” Alex replied, nodding.

Lathander explained, his words a melody that seemed to echo in Alex’s mind. When he finished, he looked to Alex expectantly. “Will you do it?”

Alex nodded. “Yes. It sounds straightforward enough.”

“Then… goodbye for now.” Lathander smiled, his form fading as the world shifted back around Alex.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing in the clearing again, the moon high above and his companions watching him, none aware of the conversation he had just shared. For them, no time had passed at all.

Alex glanced back at his weary companions, each carrying their own lingering aches from the Feywild. “Let’s go and get some rest,” he said softly, his voice tinged with both relief and exhaustion.

“Finally!” Astarion said with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t wait to take a proper shower. I feel… utterly filthy.” He shuddered, grimacing as if he could feel the Feywild’s residue clinging to him.

Shadowheart glanced over, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Maybe you should be more grateful, Astarion. Who knows? As a reward, they might even let you feed on some of the livestock.” Her eyes gleamed with playful mischief.

Astarion scoffed, raising a brow. “Ah, Shadowheart, I’d wager your blood is as sour as your quips.”

“Too bad you’ll never find out,” she replied, crossing her arms with a smug grin.

Tav chuckled at their exchange, but when Shadowheart caught his eye, he quickly looked away, shifting closer to Alex, who hid a smile.

Meanwhile, Karlach sidled up to Wyll, noticing the slump in his shoulders. “A good night’s rest will do wonders for you,” she said warmly.

Wyll merely nodded, managing a weak smile.

Karlach leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “And don’t forget, I promised you will see stars . Tonight’s the night.” Her eyes sparkled with the promise.

Wyll’s cheeks flushed as he registered her words, his exhaustion momentarily replaced with surprise and warmth. Karlach’s laughter bubbled over, hearty and infectious, as she slung one of the sleeping dreamers over her shoulder.

Together, the party continued toward the village, their spirits lifted by the anticipation of returning to familiar faces and comforting hearths. Once close enough, Alex conjured a ring of gentle, glowing orbs around them, ensuring the guards would spot them easily.

As they approached the gate, one of the guards’ eyes widened. In an instant, the village erupted in whispers that traveled like wildfire, and the quiet, sleepy town quickly filled with stirring bodies and murmurs of hope. Before long, a crowd formed, villagers clapping and calling out in joy and relief. They pressed forward eagerly, faces lighting up as they recognized the adventurers who had risked so much.

Through the crowd, Dorros and Orssa appeared, rushing toward their daughters with tear-streaked faces. They had barely paused to throw on cloaks over their nightclothes, but neither seemed to notice or care. Their gazes locked on Lilimila and Valni.

Dorros and Orssa fell to their knees, before their daughters, pulling them into trembling embraces. Valni’s eyes widened, not quite understanding why her parents were crying, but sensing their raw, overflowing love, tears welled in her own eyes.

“Valni, our sweet Valni,” Orssa choked out, holding her so tightly as though fearing she might vanish again. Her voice was a quiet murmur of love and relief, muffled against Valni’s hair. “You’re home, sweetheart.”

“Mommy… Daddy…” Valni whispered, her small voice cracking as she clung to them, the warmth and security of their embrace slowly melting her confusion. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she buried her face into her mother’s shoulder, sobbing.

Lilimila, too, held her parents, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. She clung to her father, feeling his large, calloused hands stroke her hair as he murmured comforting words between his own quiet sobs. She felt the weight of her family’s love, so fierce and unwavering, as they wrapped around her in a sheltering embrace.

The adventurers stood back, watching the scene unfold with awe and reverence. For a moment, even Astarion’s hardened expression softened, and Lae'zel, usually so stoic, allowed a slight, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. The reunion was a reminder of why they risked their lives, why they continued to journey through treacherous lands and battle forces beyond comprehension—for moments like these, when love and relief triumphed over fear, at least for the majority of them.

As the villagers’ emotional reunion unfolded, Astarion leaned toward Shadowheart, unable to suppress a smirk. He whispered, barely audible, “Can they… wrap this up a little faster? I’m desperate for a bath.”

Shadowheart shot him a look, half amused, half reproachful, though her smirk hinted at her own fatigue. “Patience, Astarion,” she murmured back, trying to keep her voice low. “Some things are worth a little extra time.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, though he didn’t miss the gentle warmth in her gaze as she took in the scene—a family that had fought despair, now whole again. Even he, with his cynicism and unrelenting wit, couldn’t fully dismiss the beauty in their reunion. He glanced away quickly, as if the sight might chip away at his well-guarded walls if he lingered too long.

Shadowheart softened, sensing something shift in him. “Maybe it’s not a bath you’re really craving,” she said, a trace of warmth in her voice.

Astarion blinked, surprised. “Oh, don’t mistake me, I’d kill for hot water and a soap that doesn’t smell like wild herbs. But…” He trailed off, catching sight of Valni nestled in her mother’s arms, her tiny, tear-streaked face peeking out with a sleepy, confused smile as her parents murmured endearments.

For a moment, Astarion’s guarded expression cracked, and he let out a soft sigh, a sound tinged with something close to longing. Maybe it wasn’t just the bath he missed, but something far harder to reclaim.

Shadowheart watched him, sensing that behind his dry humor lay a part of him that had once been just as vulnerable, just as capable of love and trust. She resisted the urge to reach out, knowing he’d likely recoil if she did. Instead, she offered him a small, knowing smile.

Karlach’s heart ached as she stood on the edge of the village celebration, memories stirring deep within her. The laughter, the hugs, the warmth of reunited family—it was all too familiar, yet felt like a lifetime ago.

Wyll watched her, his sharp gaze catching the way her eyes clouded over. He gently took her hand, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. “What’s got you looking so blue, love?”

She let out a shaky breath, a bittersweet smile crossing her lips. “All this… it reminds me of my own family,” she whispered. Her voice was tender, layered with a longing that Wyll hadn’t often heard from her. “Back in Baldur’s Gate, the outer city… I was Karlach Cliffgate, the daughter of Pluck and Caerlack. My family… gods, they were everything to me.”

Her words brought back the scents and sounds of her childhood home. Her mother humming as she kneaded dough in their tiny kitchen, her father grinning as he tossed her a sack of potatoes to peel, calling her “little spud.” Their language had been a funny thing, full of warmth and love—calling each other “potato” or “cabbage,” little endearments that were silly to anyone else but filled her heart with joy.

“Mom and Dad, they had this way of making even the hardest times feel… normal, like we were safe, like we’d always be together.” She let out a low, wistful chuckle, looking down as she recalled her mother’s illness. “But then she got sick, and we didn’t have enough to find a doctor in time. I tried everything I could, but…”

Her voice broke, and she felt Wyll’s hand squeeze hers tighter, grounding her. “And after that, it was just me and Dad. For a little while, anyway. Then, he was gone too, an accident on the Risen Road…” She swallowed, fighting to keep her composure, but her voice softened. “Just like that, I was alone. No more ‘potatoes,’ no more family.”

Wyll’s heart ached at her words, at the weight she’d been carrying for so long. He moved closer, his arm slipping around her shoulders. “You’ve been through hell, Karlach. And still, you’re here, strong as ever.” He paused, letting the words settle before he added, “And if there’s anything I can do, even if it’s just being here to remind you of the love you’ve given others, I’ll do it.”

She leaned her head against his, letting his warmth seep into her, holding her steady. “I used to think maybe I’d see them again one day. But the person I am now… I’m not that girl anymore.”

He shook his head, gently. “The part of you that loved them, that’s still here. That fire you carry? That’s them, too.”

She smiled, finally letting the tears fall. “Thank you, Wyll. I don’t know how I ended up so damn lucky to have you.”

They stood there, wrapped up in each other as the world fell away. In Wyll’s arms, Karlach felt, for the first time in years, a sense of family—one that made the memories of potatoes and laughter feel just a little less distant, and the road ahead a bit brighter.

As the reunion unfolded before them, Lae'zel, Gale, and Tav stood together at a slight distance, watching the scene in silence. The warm glow from the village torches illuminated the tearful faces of Valni’s family as they clung to one another, the weight of their reunion radiating an almost tangible warmth through the air.

Lae'zel’s hardened expression softened slightly as she watched Valni’s parents cradle their daughter, whispering words of love and comfort. She took a deep, almost measured breath, then glanced at Gale.

“Wizard,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the family. “Do you think… could I ever be like that?”

Gale turned, his brows lifting slightly. “Like what, Lae'zel?”

“A caretaker.” Her voice was quieter than usual, almost vulnerable. “These… humans. They seem bound by something deeper than I’ve known. Fierce, yes, but without a blade or shield.” She looked at Gale, a rare flicker of doubt in her gaze. “Could I ever protect in such a way?”

Gale watched her, the usual spark of curiosity in his eyes tempered by something warmer. “You know, Lae'zel, caretaking doesn’t always require a blade or even a word. It’s about the spirit of protection you carry.” He gestured to the family, Valni’s parents still clutching her tightly, as if afraid to let her go. “Sometimes it’s as simple as being there. Willing to stand in the gap, to shield them in whatever way they need.”

Lae'zel frowned, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she watched Valni’s mother gently stroke her daughter’s hair. She seemed almost pensive. “For so long, I’ve trained to be fierce. Strong. To protect… in the githyanki way.” Her fingers tightened on the hilt of her blade. “But this is different.”

“It is,” Tav said softly, stepping closer, his voice gentle yet steady. “But you’re more capable of it than you know. You’ve stood watch over us, shielded us in countless ways—even if you never called it care.” He paused, searching her face, watching how her expression flickered between stoicism and something far more tender. “And besides,” he added with a small smile, “I saw how you took care of that githyanki boy. You already have it in you—you just might not see it yet.”

Lae'zel’s gaze flickered toward Tav, a faint glimmer of gratitude hidden in her steely eyes. “Perhaps,” she admitted quietly. “But to stand in protection… without armor, without weapons? It’s strange.”

Gale’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Not so strange, Lae'zel. Even a warrior’s heart can hold space for others, even without battle. I think you’ve done it, and you’ll do it again.”

Lae'zel’s gaze softened as she watched Valni laugh through her tears, her small hands reaching out to clutch at her mother’s cheeks. For a moment, she seemed to envision herself there, holding close those she cherished. A small, rare smile touched her lips, one that faded quickly as she caught herself, but the trace of warmth remained.

“Then… perhaps I will try,” she said at last, a note of determination in her voice. “To protect more than just the body, but… the spirit as well.”

Dorros finally stood, his hand still clasping his wife’s, and he turned to Alex. His gaze was filled with gratitude as he reached for Alex’s hand, gripping it tightly between his own. “We can never thank you enough. You… you and your friends have brought our heart back to us.”

Alex nodded, the weight of the man’s words grounding him, filling his chest with a sense of fulfillment that transcended any victory in battle. In this moment, amidst the tearful reunions and the warmth of home, he felt that the burdens he carried were lighter.

Orssa looked up, her face flushed with tears but glowing with gratitude. “You’ll always have a place here. Always.” Her voice broke as she looked around at each of the adventurers, her heart laid bare for them all to see.