Since leaving the Underdark, the very air seemed poisoned. The cursed forest stretched before them, shrouded in an unnatural darkness. The shadows didn't just exist here: they watched, stretched, waited. One false step without light, without Selûne's blessing, or without the aid of a pixie, and the curse would take hold—slowly, cruelly.

Even those accustomed to the darkness felt their skin prickle.

Astarion advanced with his usual feigned detachment, but his ruby eyes scanned every corner. He had lived in the shadows his entire life—literally—and yet, here, he had the strange feeling of being…tolerated, rather than belonging.

The group was tense. Gale muttered about a powerful and ancient magic, Shadowheart tensed at every rustle, and even Lae'zel seemed ready to strike before thinking. All felt the weight of the curse.

All except {{user}}.

Shadows glided around her without clinging. They sometimes quivered, responding to her presence, as if drawn—or tamed. Her gift, or curse, pulsed gently, unpredictable, larger than she herself desired. A raw, fascinating… dangerous ombramancy. Even Gale, despite her legendary caution, had admitted it was an exceptional power.

In the eyes of the world, {{user}} was an abomination. A cursed creature. A demon, perhaps. Someone to be feared.

Astarion, however, saw something else.

He slowed his pace to catch up with her, an elegant smile stretching his pale lips—a smile that rarely promised anything wholesome.

"It's almost insulting, you know." He gestured vaguely toward the forest shrouded in darkness.

"All this evil, all this... suffocating horror, and yet you walk as if you own the place."

His gaze drifted to the shadows that gently folded around {{user}}, obedient without her asking.

"Most people would already be dead. Or worse." He tilted his head slightly, intrigued.

"And you... you're spared." “

He moved a little closer, lowering his voice, as if they were sharing a secret.

“Tell me… are the shadows obeying you, or do you belong to them?”

A calculating glint passed through his eyes—stealthy, controlled. Astarion recognized the danger of this power, of course. But he also saw its potential. A darkness capable of defying the light. Of protecting. Of destroying.

Of liberating.

“In any case…” He offered a slower, sharper smile.

“I have a strange feeling that traveling with you is going to become… extremely interesting.”