Delulu realms

"I have a question, if you'll allow it," Wyll said after a while, lengthening his stride until we walked side by side.

I smiled at him over the rim of my waterskin before taking another drink. The cool water did little for the headache that had been steadily worsening throughout the day, settling somewhere behind my eyes with an insistence I found increasingly difficult to ignore.

"Of course."

He hesitated.

"Why are you not—" He lowered his voice, glancing briefly toward the others. Gale and Lae'zel had disappeared into one of their endless discussions concerning the planes, magical theory, or some similarly esoteric subject that required, apparently, considerable volume to address properly. Shadowheart trailed behind them with the long-suffering expression of someone who wished very much to be elsewhere and had accepted that wishing was the only remedy currently available to her. As for Astarion, I had no earthly idea where he had gone, which was, in itself, hardly unusual. "...afraid?"

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "What makes you think I am not?"

He regarded me thoughtfully, with the particular attention of someone who has spent enough time watching people to know the difference between courage and the performance of it.

"If you are," he said at last, "you hide it remarkably well."

There was something else behind the question—something he considered and ultimately chose not to voice. I appreciated the restraint.

I took another sip before answering.

"There are countless reasons to be afraid," I admitted quietly. "We carry parasites behind our eyes that may decide tomorrow is an excellent day to transform us into mind flayers. We are wandering through wilderness that seems genuinely determined to kill us by whatever means present themselves. The rather peculiar little druid has already attempted to end my life once, and I cannot entirely rule out the possibility of her trying again. Every bend in the road may hide goblins or bandits or something considerably worse than either."

I shrugged lightly.

"It is, objectively speaking, a dreadful situation."

Wyll smiled despite himself.

"But what good would fear do us?"

He remained silent, which I took as an invitation to continue.

"If I surrender to it, the tadpole will not disappear. The goblins will not become friendlier. The archdruid will not magically find us. I will not sleep deeper. Or feel more rested upn waking." I adjusted the waterskin across my shoulder.

"Fear is useful—it reminds us to be careful, sharpens the senses, keeps us paying attention to things that would prefer we didn't. But once it has done its work, there is very little point in carrying it any further than it needs to go."

I looked ahead at the path winding through the village, at the particular quality of light that late afternoon casts over places that have seen better days.

"The only way out," I continued after a moment, "is through."

Perhaps the archdruid could help us, if we found him alive. Perhaps Lae'zel's people truly possessed the cure she believed in with such unwavering conviction. Or perhaps we would all be dead by week's end and the question would resolve itself without our input.

Speculation changed none of those possibilities.

"I am afraid, Wyll," I admitted, meeting his gaze. "I simply refuse to let fear make my decisions for me."

He nodded slowly, turning it over. "I suppose that is one way of looking at it."

"It is the only one that allows me to keep walking."

By then we had reached the old well.

I came to a halt, slipped my robe from my shoulders and let it fall onto a nearby stone before peering into the darkness below with undisguised curiosity—the specific curiosity that arrives when something is clearly a bad idea and one has decided to pursue it anyway.

"There is, however," I said, grinning despite myself, "one question that presently interests me considerably more."

Wyll followed my gaze into the well.

"...Which is?"

"I should very much like to know what is hiding down there."

"I question the wisdom of that decision," Gale observed dryly as he joined us, arriving with the timing of someone who had been listening for longer than he intended to admit.

I looked over my shoulder at him, unable to suppress my smile.

"You might have consulted your own wisdom before arriving at the rather questionable conclusion that I ought to lead this troupe in the first place, leading to the decision of my climbing down this well."

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"...A fair point."

"I thought so."

I leaned over the edge of the well once more, studying the darkness below with the focused attention it deserved, before looking back at him.

"Tell me,wizard, " his brow rose ever so slightly, "precisely how much confidence do you have in your Feather Fall?"