Blood & Wine - A Spawn Astarion Fan Fiction

Nymeria

The weight of everything begins to settle over my shoulders like a leaden shroud as we walk back into the main part of the tavern. Astarion is a comforting presence at my side, always touching me just as before. I'm fighting the urge to throw myself into his arms and hold him as close as I can, to tether myself to him soul and all, but that's not what he requires. I recognize that he needs my strength, even though everything inside of me screams for comfort. I must be his.

This is not our first time staring out at the end of the world, so to speak, and I doubt it will be the last.

It's odd how the rest of the tavern feels like it's in another time, like the conversation that just took place happened out of sync with everything that is going on.

Gale and Karlach remain at the table where we left them, Karlach laughing and touching Gale as she talks and he smiles shaking his head. She straightens as we approach the booth, I slide in and Astarion sits beside me his body language easy as it always is, not betraying the storm I know gathering in his thoughts.

"Where did you two run off to? Do I want to know?" Karlach asks, looking between us and raising her brows.

"I took Nymeria to meet my family." Astarion's voice is light, teasing but I can hear the frustration underneath.

"Oh!" Karlach smiles, it immediately fades, "Oh. Not good then. Terrible."

Astarion looks over to Gale, "Does that book of yours say anything about stopping a ritual?"

Gale opens Rites, Rituals and Sigils of Avernus and thumbs through the pages, "Now, are you certain it's a ritual and not a rite?"

"What's the difference?" Astarion asks, waving his hand.

"Mainly semantics in a linguistic sense, but it's very particular especially in the ways spells are crafted in Avernus or any of the Nine Hells. The devil, as it turns out, is in the details." Gale lets out a bit of a chuckle at that.

I try to keep from smiling. "Gale." I say, nodding to get him to hurry up.

"Oh." Gale says, "Well, a rite is typically seen as something that is only done once. It's very particular in it's completion in spite of the spell being fairly vague. Nothing can destroy it once it's solid and done, it's a binding contract unless one of the parties dies." He looks down and searches the page, "A ritual, on the other hand, much more lax. It's more about intention and you can substitute certain aspects for others. Rituals can be disturbed when they are begun, rites cannot."

"Unless Cazador is dead." Astarion says.

"Yes, if he begins the rites, you will have to murder him to break the contract. Any reagents, be it in this case, souls, are bound until then." Gale swallows.

"Rites of Profane Ascension." Astarion recites, "He plans to complete them during the next full moon."

"At midnight, I assume." Gale says. "Magic is a bit like poetry. It likes to set the scene."

"The next full moon." Karlach says, "That's what? Three nights away?"

"Two nights." Gale corrects, looking over at her.

"How do you figure?" She asks, I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose.

"Tonight counts as one, tomorrow another so the third night would be the full moon. You don't count that one." Gale traces a couple shapes on the wooden table to illustrate.

"It still feels like it'd be three to me." Karlach says.

"What can we do?" I ask, my voice coming out a bit more shrill than I anticipated. Gale and Karlach look at me and I take a breath, "Other than charging into Cazador's Palace and potentially getting ourselves killed in the process."