Astarion gave chase. Wounded as he was, he ran after her. His legs threatened to buckle under him, and his lungs burned with exertion. Yet, he persisted. He would not leave her to face this alone. She ran from him, from the party; perhaps she truly meant to run away from herself. Or rather what she had become. He had seen it in her eyes, the horror with which she regarded herself. The fear. He willed his broken body to be faster. He needed to catch up to her. It was so easy to lose sight of yourself after changing. For decades of his new life as a vampire spawn, he could not remember his life before. Perhaps it was the torture, the torment, the endless pain that was inflicted upon him by his maker. Perhaps it had been a deliberate attempt to beat the memory of what he was before out of him so he would remain forever after only beholden to his master. Knowing only a life lived in complete obedience to his will. He could not recall what sort of person he was before, and he knew not if it was a result of what he had endured at the hands of his master or if he himself had chosen to forget. He would not let Hestra lose herself. She was so blinded by her own fear at what she had become, of what she was now capable of, that she was forgetting. He could see it in her eyes. He would not allow her to become lost, as he had been. As he still was. She had been changed, yes, but she remained Hestra. His Hestra, Hestra the Healer. The noble, the honest, the true, the kind, the good. Hestra, who loved spice and sweets. Hestra's eyes still sparkled when she smiled, regardless of color. Hestra, who huffed at him when she was frustrated. Hestra, who chose to spare the lives of the very men who had killed her. Pure as fresh fallen snow and more virtuous than a saint. He would be her anchor. He would remind her of herself. She would not be lost; he would not allow it.
Rain began to fall, the sound of it consuming the silence of the near-morning. Astarion continued to run after her, calling out her name. If she could hear him, she made no indication of it. She slipped and fell in the mud, crying out in pain, in frustration, in grief. He knew the feeling, of grieving the life you once had, to grieve your very self even as you live. What a life it was, to be relegated to the shadows, to the darkness, to eternal night. To live countless years haunted by the ghost of the man you once were. To forget what you looked like. Becoming an abstract, a fractal concept even in your own mind. He approached her from behind, slowly, so as not to startle her. "Hestra, please, do not run from me." he whispered. She turned towards him. He took a hesitant step towards her. She stood and walked toward him, closing the distance between them, drawing so near that he could reach out and touch her. He did not dare, not yet. She was as skittish as a newborn fawn and he would not risk startling her. Morning would be upon them soon, and she must be made aware of the danger, she would surely erupt into flames if she attempted to run again, the sun catching her unawares. She held an unreadable expression in her eyes. "little dove," she greeted him. He took Hestra by the shoulders in an attempt to lead her away, risking the danger of touching her as the first golden rays of sunlight began to peek out just above the treeline. "It will be morning soon, and you must take cover from the sun." He attempted to explain. There really was no time, he would have to explain while they walked. She would explain everything more thoroughly when she was somewhere safe. Somewhere where the sun could not touch her. She remained unmoved. "I do not fear the sun, little dove." He huffed at her in frustration, his hands falling from her shoulders to her arms in a renewed attempt to move her. "You don't understand. You're a spawn now, darling, and you're fresh; to face the sun is to die." She looked at him with a softness that made his heart drop."I am tired, Astrion." She whispered. "I have died once, I do not fear dying again. I... want to rest." He grabbed her now with as much intensity as he could muster in his exhausted body. Panic turning his breath ragged and filling his stagnant veins with ice. "Hestra, please! I watched you die once, I can not-I will not watch you die again!" He sunk to his knees and clung to her, pleading. He could endure anything else, if this were some cruel punishment of the gods, let them enact their vengeance in any other way, he begged them. Only not this. Not her. Not again. She ran her fingers through his hair before stooping to his level. She dropped to her knees beside him as she softly spoke. "You will find the freedom you seek, and all will be well, little dove." She took the coat from her shoulders and placed it gently upon his. She leaned into him, kissing him so disastrously gently that he crumbled before her. Her lips lingered on his, for a moment, than a moment more, their breath mingling. She pulled away, and to Astarion's horror; There was no uncertainty in her eyes. She wanted this, and there was nothing he could say or do that could possibly change her mind. It destroyed him. Knowing that she would leave him again and that he would let her go. He must. That much he knew, but he would not let her go yet, not without letting her know how he felt about her, she must know. He needed her to know. He knew that she knew, but he needed to say it, if only once. He wanted to say it just once and truly mean it. "Hestra, I-" He began to say, but she was gone before he could finish. Her skin raised and burned away like parchment paper held before a candle flame. She dissipated before his eyes the instant the sun touched her. Hestra the Healer, was changed once more. One final time. She had become ash. All her hopes, her dreams, her medical knowledge, her tenacity, her smile, her laughter. The whole of her had been reduced to a pile of ash before him. Astrion wept, his tears falling freely into the pile of smoldering ash that was once Hestra. He held the ash in his shaking hands as the morning breeze threatened to steal her away from him one final time. He raged at the sun, at the gods, at himself. He cursed all that was. This grief was more than his body could bear. He held the remnants of his beloved in his hands and collapsed. He closed his eyes as the sun settled comfortably in the sky, unknowing of its great offense. Astarion gave himself over to oblivion, and like a shadow, his grief followed. In his dreams, he dreamed only of ash.
