Chapter Text
Alessa awoke unceremoniously sprawled on a beach, the golden sand warm against her back as consciousness slowly returned to her. It had taken a while for the world to stop spinning before she could even stand, and even then she was dodgy on her feet.
‘Anakin had the fucking right of it.’ She had brushed off as much sand off her as she could, but she still felt phantom remnants grating inside her clothing. Worst of all she could feel it in her shoes. ‘God that is the fucking worst! Even worse than wet socks. I fucking hate sand.’
She stood still, gathering her thoughts as she took in the world around her. She was on a beach, as much of a beach as any other really. Birds cried overhead as they flew in lazy circles. Waves crashed gently ashore, the rhythmic sound a familiar comfort. The golden sand threw her off a bit, after years of growing up, playing in the scorching hot black sand of the West Coast.
What really threw her though was how different the vegetation was here. It was the one thing that she found most fascinating about travelling. When you go to a new country it’s a given that everything is different, nothing’s familiar. But the one thing that hit home for her whenever she went to another country was how different the trees were, the plants, the flowers. Even down to the grass. Despite this, there was usually something that she recognised, that was familiar, or even that resembled something from back home.
Here, nothing was the same. None of the bushes growing at the edge of the path, nor the flowers that grew up through the gaps in the rocks. The trees in the distance looked wholly different, and even the weeds that grew through the cracks in the ground she didn’t recognise. It was that same completely alien experience she felt whenever she went travelling, but this time ramped up tenfold by the events of the past 24 hours.
‘I’m in another world. And I have no idea how to get back.’
It hit her all at once.
Her chest was suddenly tight. She couldn’t breathe. She felt numb and hot and cold, all at once, and she staggered forward, suddenly overwhelmed with the urgent desire to get away, to hide, to get off this beach that was not a part of her world. She stumbled over the uneven ground, pushing hard against the shifting sand. The stress and fear writhing in her gut, along with a sudden hunger that had made itself known, hit her full force. Eyes prickling, she made her way over a patch of ground hidden away off the edge of the shoreline, in a corner between two large boulders. Leaning back against the cool rock she slunk to the ground.
Where she promptly burst out crying.
Hot, fat tears rolled down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably into her hands, the weight of finding herself alone in an alien land mixing with the throbbing ache at her side. She remained there for a good while, wallowing in her misery, unable to do anything but cry and try to process what in the hell she was going to do.
Near the end of her self-pity session she became aware of something uncomfortable digging into the side of her thigh. With a gasp, she reached into the pocket of her trackpants, pulling out an item that was more precious to her than gold right now.
She cradled the cellphone in her hand, looking at the cracked screen, her last lifeline to her previous home. Her lock screen, a still from one of her favourite movies, flashed quickly before facial recognition set in. The still was replaced by a photo in the background of her phone, one she’d taken a few weeks earlier. It somehow felt extremely accurate that she’d dressed up as Alice that night, as right now she was feeling very much like she’d gone down the rabbit hole.
She brought up the call logs, and on autopilot pressed the button to call her mum. When the call didn’t connect, she tried again. And again, until her vision was blurred once again through the fresh tears that came and set off her crying once again. Once the new wave subsided, she found herself staring forlornly at the little circle with a line through it in the corner of the screen. Her gaze then turned to the little percentage bar at the top.
‘35%. Not long left.’
Sadness streaked through her as she took one last look at the picture of her friends.
‘Is this the last time I’ll see them?’
Tears threatened to well up again but this time she blinked them back, determined not to fall apart again. At least, not until she’d given enough of a ‘fuck you’ to this world for taking her away from her home. She pushed down on the buttons, and the screen lit up one last time. Her finger hovered a long moment over the ‘Power Off’ button. Before she lingered too long and gave in to the sadness that was threatening to overwhelm her, she pressed her thumb down.
The screen went dark.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight, hoping with all her might that she would live long enough to see that screen light up again, even if it was just to say one final goodbye to the people on the phone. With a shaky sigh she pushed it back into the deep pocket of her trackpants, making sure it was as safe as could be. She struggled to her feet once again, the world still spinning slightly. This time, she set off with a purpose. She had three goals in mind.
One: Get the hell off the beach and as far away from the ruined ship as possible.
Two: Find somewhere safe for the night.
Three: Figure out where she was and how she was going to get back home.
She guessed it had been an hour, maybe two, by the time she made any progress. The still-smouldering structure she had started this whole debacle on was her only point of reference. She tried to use it to determine what paths she had taken already, using it as a centre point for her trekking. But the ship was so huge, and the wreckage so spread out, she somehow always found herself coming back around to it. After a little while of wandering in circles she got her first glimmer of hope when she found Shadowheart in a small alcove, down a little path she had missed on her first pass. The metal of the ship was still groaning, shifting and settling with a frequency that set her nerves on edge. She wanted to be as far from the thing as possible, but also needed to get her only current ally to safety.
Shadowheart had awoken in a similar fashion to Alessa, groggy and unsure of how she had survived the fall of the ship, but neither dared push their luck by questioning it. Alessa had tried to subtly pry into the origins of the strange artifact that had been lying beside her. Shadowheart, seeing Alessa try and fail to hide a wince of pain, had instead proceeded to dodge the topic entirely and narrowed her eyes at the movement.
“Sit.” She gestured at a log off to the side of the path, and Alessa did not have it in her to argue. Suddenly acutely aware of the pain at her side she ambled over, favouring her left as she angled herself to sit. Shadowheart knelt down beside her, pulling out a small dagger, clearly aiming to simply cut away at her favourite hoodie.
“Wait, no! Here, let me.” Alessa pulled the side of the garment up, suddenly rather protective of one of her few remaining possessions. She grimaced as the fabric came unstuck from the wound. Jagged threads, tacky and dark red, tugged away sharply. Blood began to trickle from the open gash, and Shadowheart hummed in disapproval as she took in the sight.
“This may take a little more energy than it normally would. Don’t move.”
Though her bedside manner had room for improvement, it did the trick. Shadowheart held out her hands, eyes closed as she silently mouthed something. A prayer? An incantation?
Whatever it was, it worked.
An icy warmth spread across her side, like someone slowly applying Deep Heat across the area. Alessa couldn’t help her gasp of amazement as the throbbing ache faded into nothing. The wound on her side stitched itself up before her eyes, new flesh forming to fill in the gaps, leaving nothing behind but a faint silvery scar.
“That’s… you’re incredible. Can everyone do that here?” Alessa watched the other woman as she stood, looking slightly weary, but satisfied with her work. Shadowheart met her gaze, veiled curiosity rising in the cool assessing eyes.
“No, not everyone.” She paused, seeming to puzzle over her next words. “You truly don’t have anything like this where you come from?”
Alessa shook her head. “No, not really. I mean, I guess maybe some of our technology comes kind of close, but nothing like that. That felt…” Her sentence trailed off, unable to find the exact way to describe it, as Shadowheart’s brow furrowed.
“Like being touched by a blessed darkness?” A small smirk graced Shadowheart’s lips, as though she had just told an inside joke that Alessa wasn’t a part of.
She nodded, rolling the sweatshirt back down, frowning at the jagged hole adorning the fabric. “Yeah, sure, exactly like that. Cool and warm at the same time. It felt… good.”
This time the smile Shadowheart gave her was warm and approving.
After a short rest, they figured out that there were three key things they needed to do before they ran out of daylight.
First: figure out where the hell they were.
Second: find somewhere to hunker down.
Third: food.
It was halfway through the first step of their plan that Shadowheart held up her hand, gesturing for Alessa to be quiet. She motioned further up the track, to where a figure stood at the edge of the road. As they got closer, Alessa got a better view of the man standing there.
He was a little taller than her, pale skin. Dressed in some sort of medieval gear. And, poking out from beneath a shock of bone white hair…
‘Are those… is he some sort of elf?!’ Her thoughts were interrupted by the man shouting towards them.
“You there. Hey. Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. There in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you?”
Alessa shot a look to Shadowheart, whose eyes were narrowed in that now familiar look of suspicion. They moved in unison towards him, wary but not wanting to leave another person at the mercy of those things from the ship.
“You go and have a look, see if it’s one of those creatures. I’ll watch your back.” Shadowheart eyed the man warily, his impatience clearly growing by the second.
It sounded good to Alessa. She was in no way capable of fending off an attacker, especially if they were bold enough to go after the woman holding a huge fuck-off mace. The man didn’t look dangerous. In fact, he looked quite the opposite. With his crisp British-esque accent, pristine hair, and slim build, the man seemed like he should be on a theatre stage instead of wandering on a beach. She moved to stand near him and turned her gaze to where he was pointing.
“There. Do you see it?” His voice had grown soft. The bushes rustled slightly, and she felt the man move back behind her. Trusting Shadowheart to have her back if the man tried anything dodgy, she stepped forward. She raised her hands, hoping that whatever power had helped her before would do so again if anything jumped out.
Leaves rustled again, and something grunted. Alessa tensed, eyes wide, heart beating loud in her ears.
The movement stopped.
Everything was quiet for a moment.
Then a rush of activity as a boar ran from its cover in the bushes, squealing as it ran off down the path. Alessa lowered her hands, adrenaline pumping as the aftershock worked its way through her body. She let out a shaky breath as she watched the boar run out of sight, laughing a little to herself.
She didn’t have time to process the cry from Shadowheart.
A silver glint.
A kick to Alessa’s knees, followed by a sharp tug backwards.
She let out a yelp as she tumbled to the ground, one of the pale elf’s arms around her neck, the other holding a lethal looking dagger to her throat.
Red eyes gleamed at her, dangerous and accusatory.
“Hush now, not a sound if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” Alessa did as instructed, too scared to do anything but listen to the man’s words over the furious thumping of her heart.
“And you. Keep your distance,” the man spat at Shadowheart. “No need for this to get messy.”
Shadowheart stared the man down, hand hovering over the handle of her mace, the promise of violence strong in her steely gaze. “I need her alive. Stow that blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.”
“Ah-ha! Promises, promises. But I have other business I’m afraid.” His gaze slid back over to Alessa. “I saw you on the ship, didn-”
Alessa felt the now familiar warmth begin to spread through her limbs, but before it could build to its full power the air between them pulsed.
A man steps out onto a moonlit street, stumbling drunkenly into an alleyway as predatory eyes follow.
Students murmur quietly as they work, tired and weary in the warm afternoon sun.
A writhing, skinny rat, clenched in a pale fist.
Thousands of people crowd into an arena, hot and sweaty as they sing in unison.
The taste of dirt, a mad scrabble upwards. A desperate, burning hunger.
“What was that? What’s going on?!” the elf hissed, his breath unusually cool against her cheek.
Alessa didn’t think twice. She used the momentary lapse in his concentration to slam her head into back his, hard. The man began cursing, loosening his grip just enough on the knife for her to roll out of his grasp.
“Mother fucker that hurt!” Alessa cried as she scrambled to her feet, ducking behind Shadowheart as the woman finally pulled the mace into her hands. The man was already on his feet, blade out defensively in front of him.
Safe behind the woman holding the big fuck-off mace, Alessa felt a fury like she’d never felt before course through her. She moved out to the side of Shadowheart and began shouting at the man in front of them.
“That was the parasite you asshole! The ones those creepy tentacled abominations put inside us!” Alessa threw up her hands in frustration, the familiar bubble of anxiety and frustration building from earlier. “I’m assuming you’ve got one too, or else we wouldn’t have,” she waved a hand between the two of them, “mind whammied or whatever the shit we’re calling it! And if you’d fucking stopped to fucking talk to us like a normal bloody person then maybe I could have avoided having a knife to my damn throat!” Alessa paused, her breath heavy, astutely ignoring the fact that ‘normal’ for her was quickly spiralling into crazy new territories. “Jesus you’re a piece of work!”
She ignored the surly look the man threw at her as she rubbed at the growing lump on her the back of her head. He said nothing as the two women stared him down.
“Let’s go,” Shadowheart spat, her eyes venomous, “we’re done here.”
The man sneered at her, but there was something about that that made Alessa pause. He had the air of a cornered animal, trapped and desperate. Why? She had no idea. But it was enough to slightly calm her ire, at least for the moment, though she had a feeling that any prolonged conversations with the man would leave her in a similar state of infuriation. She put on her best air of dignified indignance and stared the man down.
“You were on that ship too, weren’t you?” She tried to inject as much derision into her words as she could. “The worm, it connected us.” She could practically see the cogs turning in the man’s head, puzzling it out, joining the dots as quickly as the others on the ship had.
“The worm… of course. That explains things. Somewhat.” He paused, lowering the dagger, and Alessa watched as a new facade washed over him. He stood a little taller, a little more bravado seeping into him. “And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.” His hands waved about, punctuating his words, and let out a small huff of a laugh.
‘Yep. Sure. That is absolutely a normal thing for a normal person to say. Jesus Christ.’ Alessa gave him her best Regina George once-over. The man seemed entirely unaffected by it, simply waiting for her to respond. Alessa felt Shadowheart standing tense behind her, but with a sigh her anger washed away, and she gave in to the pale elf in front.
“Apology accepted. Though, I don’t regret the headbutt. Would do that again in a heartbeat.” He let out another huff of amusement, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hah. A kindred spirit. My name’s Astarion.” The man did a slight bow, his calculating eyes never fully leaving the duo standing in front of him. Alessa tried to keep her voice level as she told him her name, her heart still pounding, and Shadowheart’s answering introduction was clipped and disapproving.
“So, do you know anything about these worms?” Astarion said, voice sharp.
Alessa shrugged. “Apart from knowing that none of us want these things in our heads, not really. Well, the woman I met on the ship said that we would turn into those mind-thingies if we didn’t get the worms out so…” She let the rest of the thought peter out.
“Wait, turn us into-” The man let out a bitter laugh, head tilting up to the sky. “Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?” The last comment was said almost to himself, and Alessa couldn’t help but feel like she was hearing part of a conversation that she wasn’t supposed to. He turned his focus back to her.
“Although, it hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert, someone that can control these things, there might still be time.”
“Control them? My guy, I want this damn thing out of me! And if they could send me back home while they’re at it, that would be great!” At her words Astarion finally seemed to properly take in her unusual attire, and his eyes narrowed a fraction.
“Well, yes, of course. But first things first…” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to agree with him. When neither of them did so, he scowled.
“And I suppose you’ll want to be travelling with us?” Shadowheart said instead, and the scowl quickly disappeared, replaced instead with a smile that she assumed was supposed to be appeasing.
‘Geez this guy is all over the place.’
He directed his next words to Alessa, blatantly ignoring the clearly wary Shadowheart. “Well, you know I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. Besides, you seem like a useful person to know.” His eyes once again raked themselves over her body, and Alessa fought back the urge to hide away from his vaguely predatory gaze.
Dipping down into another of his little mock bows, he shifted his gaze to Shadowheart. “Alright, I accept. Lead on.”
Alessa stood by as her two new companions stared each other down, both daring the other to make a move. It was a long moment before Shadowheart sighed, then turned heel and began again down the curving beach path. Alessa looked at Astarion, who held out his hands in an ‘after you’ gesture. She rolled her eyes at the performative motion and moved quickly to follow after Shadowheart, feeling him move into place not far behind.
The three of them trudged along, all too eager to get away from the scene behind them. Minutes, hours? Alessa couldn’t tell. She was too on edge, curiosity for her new surroundings warring with the ever-present fear and confusion over her predicament. The group was silent as they skirted the edges of the burning wreckage, wordlessly working in unison to not attract the attention of anything that may have been lurking inside. There were corpses scattered all along their path as they followed it up into the hills. It took a while for her stomach to settle at the sight, but after the first dozen or the revulsion was replaced with an almost morbid fascination, especially when it was a creature that she had only ever read about in fairy-tales and children’s books. Despite this, she maintained a healthy distance from the bodies, unwilling to get too close.
Her two companions had no such qualms.
“Eugh. Goblins. Nasty little creatures.” Astarion said the words particularly viciously as he dug through the clothing of the latest body they had come across, gleefully pulling out a handful of gold coins for his trouble.
“At least on that we can agree.” Shadowheart said curtly. “Pass me that dagger.”
Astarion grinned, and with one quick motion sliced the leather loop holding the dagger, sheath and all.
“My dear.”
Alessa rolled her eyes. The man was pushing it, clearly enjoying pushing Shadowheart’s buttons. She wondered how long it would last before the two came to actual blows. Her money was on Shadowheart, but as she spent more time around the pale elf the more she felt that Astarion could give just as good as he got.
To her credit, Shadowheart simply snatched the dagger out of his hand, turning her attention to Alessa. Hand outstretched, she offered the dagger to the other woman.
“For you. In case you run into any trouble.” Shadowheart glared at Astarion at the word ‘trouble’. His face morphed into the picture of faux innocence before he turned and continued scoping out the next target for his looting.
It wasn’t long after that Alessa first sensed it.
“Stop. Do you guys feel that?” It was a fizzing in the air, a faint electric buzzing that set Alessa on edge. It took her a moment to realise what it reminded her of. She turned to Shadowheart, gripping the other woman’s arm tightly.
“It feels like when I blasted that demon dog, on the ship.” Shadowheart stopped, sending her a quizzical look. “When the magic? Whatever it was. When it came out of me. It feels like that. Up ahead.”
“Are you saying our little friend here can do magic?” Astarion piped up, his curiosity piqued. The elf sidled closer, looking between the two with prying eyes.
Shadowheart looked to Alessa, and shrugged. “I think she’s some kind of sorcerer, though her magic hasn’t exactly been reliable.”
Alessa held up her hands in protest as they moved closer to the source of the feeling. “Hey, where I come from we don’t have magic. That’s only a thing in fairy tales and myths. It’s not real.” Her attention returned to following their path as Astarion scoffed behind her.
“Darling, where in the Hells are you from? No magic? Next you’re going to tell me that elves aren’t real either?”
“They’re not.” That was as far as she got. As they rounded the bend in the path, they found what Alessa had been searching for.
The source of the energy was flat up against a smooth rock face. It pulsed with power, and Alessa could feel it coming off the thing in waves. It whirled in a vortex of purples and silvers, and what Alessa assumed to be pure magic glittered and swirled erratically, sparking occasionally, as if it were malfunctioning.
“I wouldn’t go near that if I were you,” Shadowheart warned. “It’s a portal. An arcane gate. Who knows what’s on the other side.” With a start Alessa realised her arm was already outstretched, halfway to touching it, as though it had a mind of its own. Without warning a tendril of magic lashed out, curling itself around her fingers before disappearing with a sharp shock. She recoiled, taking a few steps back. Before Shadowheart could say ‘I told you so’ a hand flew out of the wall, followed by an echoing, disembodied voice.
“Hello? Is anyone out there? A hand, please?”
“Is this normal?!”
Shadowheart shrugged. Astarion looked entirely bored, eyeing the scene with nonchalance.
“A hand?” the voice demanded again.
“Well I’m not touching it.” Shadowheart said, looking not too pleased with her companion’s fascination with the thing. Alessa rolled her eyes and diverted her attention back to the wall, and a sudden thought darted through her mind. Stifling a giggle, she reached out and gave the protruding limb a rough slap. Astarion behind her made a soft noise of approval.
“Ow! Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand? Anyone?”
“Yeah alright, alright.” She moved towards the wall to get a proper stance. She clasped her fingers in his, feeling the warmth and strength behind the grasp. Her other hand gripped tightly onto his forearm, getting as solid a hold as she could.
And she pulled.
She felt the magic surge, and the resistance of the portal held strong. She braced a foot against the wall and heaved.
It felt like pulling something out of the mud. Heavy suction, barely any movement, then that pop of release and everything comes loose at once.
A man tumbled out of the portal. She let go of his hand as, for the third time that day, she found herself flat on her back. This time, there was a warm body sprawled atop hers. She felt the figure struggle for a moment, grunting in confusion, before pushing himself off her and getting to his feet.
She took a moment to catch her breath before focusing on the man above her.
He was handsome. Very handsome.
Shoulder length brown hair, greying at the edges. Kind eyes crinkled at the corners. He had on a weird purple robe, a white undershirt, leather trousers. The dark lines of some sort of tattoo peeked out at the top of his chest.
All in all, he looked nice.
Quite nice indeed.
‘God damn why are all these people so hot?!’
He reached out a hand to help her up, an appreciative smile on his face. Alessa took it and scrambled to her feet, suddenly hyper-aware of her body, her grimy clothes, the mess on her face. The man brushed off the front of his robes before turning to address the group.
“Hello, I’m Gale, of Wa-” Before he could finish the man flinched, hand flying to his head.
The faint crash of waves in the distance heard from the balcony of a tower.
A woman, ethereal in her beauty, her anger righteous and terrifying.
Scornful rejection, laughter in her face, the dull ache of holding back tears.
A winged cat, daintily licking its paws in front of a fireplace.
Deep, aching loneliness, and a brief respite found in the pages of a book.
“Sorry, sorry! That’s been happening every time I meet someone new lately.” Blinking the foreign memories away, Alessa grimaced at the man in front of her. “Seems like you’re part of the club as well?”
He stared at her in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned.
“Ah yes. Our unwelcome ocular insertions.” He rubbed absently at his forehead, eyes crinkling at the corners in displeasure. Alessa felt herself cringe at his frank but rather repellent choice of words. “You were on the nautiloid as well?”
“Nautiloid?” Gale’s gaze drifted to a spot over her shoulder, and Alessa remembered the hulking ruin of a ship behind them. She had the sudden urge to poke fun at the man, to put a bit of light back in his sad puppy dog eyes. “Oh yea, right, that thing. Wasn’t just on it, I happened to be the one that landed it.” She leant back on her heels, arms folded across her chest.
“Oh yes, and a fine job you’ve done of that. Practically in one piece.”
“Well, what can you expect? I’m not from around here, but I try my best.” She saw Gale’s eyes widen a fraction, properly take in her clothing, quickly taking stock of her.
‘Shit, fuck, I’ve really gotta stop running my mouth about that.’ He must have seen something, some of her panic leaking out, because it was only the briefest of moments before a grin lit up his face.
It made him ten times prettier.
“Well, I won’t hold it against you.” His voice was a touch softer, words punctuated with a raised hand, index finger wagging good-naturedly at her. A little spark ran through her at the endearing gesture. She was also wildly grateful for him holding back all the unspoken questions that no doubt lingered. He just had that air about him, one that seemed to crave understanding, knowledge. She could recognise a fellow academic when she saw one.
“Apologies, by the way. I’m usually better at this.”
“Better? At what, introductions?” Astarion piped up. The man shot the elf a look before returning his focus to Alessa.
“At magic. Well, and introductions, when I’m not being interrupted by errant portals and other such nonsense. Please, let me start again. I’m Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”