You slip into Wyrm’s Rock, moving silently under the cover of night. Each step is deliberate, the weight of your mission pressing heavily on your shoulders. Your companions will arrive by dawn, but you can’t risk their lives. This is your responsibility, something only you can fix because of the Dark Urge that set everything in motion.

As you enter Gortash’s chambers, you scan the shadows, but he evades even your sharpest perception. Suddenly, an arm wraps around your torso, pulling you back firmly against him. The sensation is unsettlingly familiar, a haunting echo of something once known. Before you can react, you feel the press of chilling metal against your neck.

“You’ll be dead,” you grit out, steadying yourself against the rush of fear. If you perish tonight, you know your companions will come to avenge you and save Baldur’s Gate.

Gortash’s grip tightens slightly as his voice cuts through the silence, the edges of his tone tinged with a melancholy that stirs something buried. “I could have you killed,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing, as if resigning himself to a long-buried feeling.

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you reply, your voice unwavering.