The echoes of Moonrise Tower’s battle still lingered, casting shadows on every face in your party. You’d all been through so much before this, but what you’d witnessed there—true, unbridled darkness, the enemy’s real hand—left an indelible weight that settled heavily over the camp. Even the smallest spark of celebration felt hollow now, as if joy itself had become a foreign language. The path ahead was steep and dark, and the burden of knowing what lay within it cast a chill none of you could shake.

Seeking a break from the silent tension in the camp, you wandered off, the owlbear padding curiously beside you. Here, by the lake, the air felt cleaner, if no less heavy. You noticed Shadowheart standing near the shore, her figure illuminated in the bright, quiet light of the moon, casting her in an ethereal glow that almost softened the harsh lines of her stance. You knew why she was here; Aylin’s revelation about her family—possibly alive, somewhere in Baldur’s Gate—had struck her deeply. It wasn’t the kind of hope that brought comfort; it was the kind that forced reckoning.

Without a word, you stepped into the lake, letting the water lap around your ankles, mirroring her gaze out onto the dark, endless stretch of the lake’s surface. She looked over, her face calm but her eyes stormy.

The stillness between you held, weighted yet familiar.

“Do you want me here?” you finally asked, voice low, the words carrying just enough for her to hear.

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, her gaze softened just a touch, and she turned back to the lake.

“…Stay,” she murmured. "It helps."