She smiled. It was small—a crack in obsidian, a hairline fracture of warmth. She strapped the longsword to her hip, tested the draw, and nodded once.
That night, they made camp in a collapsed watchtower. Shadowheart took first watch, her voice a low murmur as she prayed to a goddess who no longer answered. Astarion pretended to read a book he’d stolen from a thrall. Wyll practiced a parry against a phantom. And Lae’zel sat apart, whetting her greatsword’s edge with a stone that had seen better centuries. baldur 39-s gate 3
The silence stretched. Shadowheart’s prayer faltered. Astarion looked up from his book. She smiled
“You’re missing something,” Karlach said. tested the draw