| self - teaching |

Well. I am rather pleased with him. Hope you'll like him as well, folks 🩶

Gale as the Evening Start from Alphonse Mucha ✨

Yes I know, I know, Mystryl is technically dead at this time, but she was still (as Mystra is now) the embodiment of the Weave, so I put her old symbol instead of the newest Mystra one, as a marker of Gale's love for magic, rather than Mystra herself. And I've swapped the original design from Mucha to have a good view of the orb.

Others in the series can be found here :

Astarion as 'The North Star' Shadowheart as 'The Moon' Wyll as 'The Morningstar' Lae'zel as 'The Comet'

He heard the portal open behind him, turning his head enough to glance sidelong over his shoulder. Shadowheart and Cal, just as he'd hoped. All Rolan could answer with was a wry and nonplussed, "Do they ever?" The chafe of their argument still felt a little too raw, not helped by the cleric's seeming nonchalance.

Even so, he helped guide an unconscious Cal down next to him, cushioning the back of his brother's head with one hand. When the other tiefling groaned and winced at the movement, Rolan quietly shushed him, murmuring reassurances he doubted Cal was awake enough to hear.

Then Rolan let out a sharper wince of his own at the frigid burst of magic from his core through his body to every finger, toe, and the tip of his tail. Afterward, however, he could take full breaths and every battered ache had ebbed at last. And he looked up in time to catch that small smile, the gentle timbre echoing in his mind's ear. Rolan didn't feel on steady ground with Shadowheart yet, but this, at least... it didn't remind him of Lorroakan. It bled a bit of strength back into him. That counted for something.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮    SHADOWHEART HELPED Rolan to his feet & once Rolan was upright, he drew a dagger from his belt, offering it to the tiefling. ❝Would you like to do the honors~? I imagine you have quite a bit of anger that needs expressing...❞

The cleric smiled. Call him sadistic, but he knew that revenge, properly administered, was its own form of healing. ❝Just don't kill him. The shadow curse needs a living soul to take root.❞

Lorroakan wanted to hurl vicious insults at Rolan, but he went still instead as the raven-haired's words penetrated through the fog & when understanding finally hit, his eyes went wide with FEAR.

❝What——— T-this… this is madness…!!❞ PANIC bled through his slurred speech as he desperately tried to force himself upright again, his mind reeling to come up with some sort thrat, leverage, anything that would end this... this nightmare. Part of him still couldn't believe this was real. ❝Y..you cannot do this to me! The... the Blackstaff will hear of this!! Yes! Th..they will hunt you both to the ends of Tori...l!❞

Rolan didn't smile in return, though he took the dagger. It was enough, as he approached, to finally see fear on Lorroakan's face instead.

"I doubt they give that much of a damn about you," Rolan retorted coolly. "Wringing power from everything and everyone, hoarding and selling knowledge without any respect for it, failing your students with lies and abuse... you shame the Blackstaff, if anything. You're an embarrassment no one is sad to lose."

He'd taken only a few steps closer to his former master when the latter's desperate claim echoed through the study. Rolan paused - but only for half a breath. His grip tightened on the dagger's handle, jaw taut and golden eyes burning, as he crossed to Lorroakan in quicker, longer strides. "I have had enough" - his unoccupied hand closed around the other wizard's throat - "of people bartering" - he sank the blade into Lorroakan's side - "with my family's lives!"

Oh, now he was 'clever' again. Now, when he was left with the weight of three lives on his shoulders and no one to ease it. He just barely bit back voicing that hurt. Rolan wanted to trust that the glimmer of warmth in Shadowheart's smile was genuine. He wanted to. He took the sending stone, staring at it for a long moment before tucking it away and looking to the cleric. Rolan said nothing, offered no protest nor assertion, simply listened as Shadowheart offered acknowledgement but no apology.

He then rose, making no attempt to touch the other as he passed... yet slowed to a pause at the closed door. While he didn't turn around, Rolan's voice was soft yet clear. "I spoke in anger too." He wasn't sorry either, not for the parts about Shar. "I was hurt, because... you matter to me. You do." Not your goddess. A small shake of his head. "You don't have to say it back." Even if you did, I'm scared I won't believe you.

Rolan pulled the door open, and left the temple. A few Ilmatari clerics hurried by to check on Cal and Lia.

----

By the time Rolan activated the sending stone, the sun hung low. More iridescent threads of magic strained taut around him, pale wisps of flame floating like stars in the ruddy light. He allowed himself just a moment to watch them from where he'd slumped to the floor, before looking to a dazed Lorroakan now snared in his own caging runes.

All Rolan could taste was the blood in his nose and mouth dripping onto his scorched robes. All he could feel was relief, not joy, that this would finally be over.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮    ❝W..weretched… devil…❞    Lorroakan's voice was nothing more than a whisper, his hazel eyes fluttering open  &  shut as he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Had this pathetic hellspawn actually managed to trick him?? No.. no, no, no, this couldn't be happening. This simply couldn't. Be. Happening. 

Lorroakan had never been brave   &  his greatest FEAR was his own mortality, the prospect of vanishing into nothing when he still had so much to achieve! Especially when immortality was finally within his grasp. Yet spite and rage drowned out the fear ;   or perhaps he simply refused to believe Rolan capable of murdering him in cold blood. 

❝..after everything I have… done for you…❞    He attempted to push himself up from the cold marble floor, but he was simply too weak. Instead, he slumped onto his side with a pained breath, ginger hair spilling across half his face.   ❝I … I.. housed you.. I taught you… kept you fed… a-and… this.. this is how you repay me…❞  

He saw a portal open behind Rolan & someone stepped through — an unfamiliar man clad in dark armor, armed with a spear, carrying a person in his arms... Even his fury was no longer enough to smother the panic clawing at him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤShadowheart's attention fell to Rolan first and his heart sank.

❝You look half-dead. I take it things didn't go entirely according to plan~?❞ He remarked with a teasing tone that didn't quite match the gravity of the situation. Of course he couldn't show that he'd been terrified on edge, praying for Lady Shar's guidance & dreading that Rolan might end up dead.

Shadowheart carried Cal over and carefully laid him down on the floor. Then, with a flick of his hand, purple magic curled through the air and sank into the Rolan's battered form ; the healing was immedaite, but it wasn't... pleasant.

It felt cold. Like icy water forced through his veins.

❝Still. You succeeded. Well done.❞  Shadowheart praised, his voice gentler & allowed himself a small smile before turning to Lorroakan. The cleric tilted his head with mild curiosity as he regarded the red-haired heap of misery on the floor within the arcane circle.  

He heard the portal open behind him, turning his head enough to glance sidelong over his shoulder. Shadowheart and Cal, just as he'd hoped. All Rolan could answer with was a wry and nonplussed, "Do they ever?" The chafe of their argument still felt a little too raw, not helped by the cleric's seeming nonchalance.

Even so, he helped guide an unconscious Cal down next to him, cushioning the back of his brother's head with one hand. When the other tiefling groaned and winced at the movement, Rolan quietly shushed him, murmuring reassurances he doubted Cal was awake enough to hear.

Then Rolan let out a sharper wince of his own at the frigid burst of magic from his core through his body to every finger, toe, and the tip of his tail. Afterward, however, he could take full breaths and every battered ache had ebbed at last. And he looked up in time to catch that small smile, the gentle timbre echoing in his mind's ear. Rolan didn't feel on steady ground with Shadowheart yet, but this, at least... it didn't remind him of Lorroakan. It bled a bit of strength back into him. That counted for something.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮   ❛ We have emptied our hearts of falsehoods. We have vanquished your foes. In DARKNESS, we see your truth. Embrace us, your loyal warriors. Cloak us in your shadow. Guide us to your victory.  ❜

ind. & selective rp blog for SHADOWHEART featuring TOLKIEN & ELDER SCROLLS verses and a soft spot for canon divergent, pre-game / post-game AUs ♡ mun is 30.

His wry expression shattered as his jaw set, barely short of grinding his teeth, when all Shadowheart gave him at first was a damnably-calm insistence. Rolan wasn't sure he could stomach one more entreaty to bow to Shar. It never came. Instead, Shadowheart was agreeing with his idea, but suggesting one change.

One astonishing change.

Rolan didn't balk at the thought of inflicting Lorroakan with the Shadow Curse - if asked to pick between his master and Cal, the answer was so easy it was barely a choice. No, what gave him pause was the terrifying hope of the idea, and the risk of what failure would mean. "...He'd never agree to it, and I don't have the knowledge to fight him." Nonetheless, when Rolan's gaze returned to Shadowheart's once more, that earlier terrible clarity had softened into a blazing fire, as his posture slowly relaxed and straightened where he sat. "So how?"

🌑 . . . ╰──╮    ❝This is your trial. You must solve it yourself.❞   His tone was firm   &  if he felt any sympathy, he didn't let it show.   

❝Trick him, drug him...❞  A wry little smile tugged on Shadowheart's lips that finally held a fraction of warmth & reassurance.   ❝You are an exceptionally clever man with enough potions, tomes and scrolls at your disposal to conquer the entire city. Surely you will come up with something.❞ 

His attention shifted briefly to the pouch at his hip before he withdrew a small, unremarkable obsidian & offered it to the wizard.   ❝Take this. It's a sending stone. Use it to contact me when you're ready and I will take care of the rest.❞ 

Oh, now he was 'clever' again. Now, when he was left with the weight of three lives on his shoulders and no one to ease it. He just barely bit back voicing that hurt. Rolan wanted to trust that the glimmer of warmth in Shadowheart's smile was genuine. He wanted to. He took the sending stone, staring at it for a long moment before tucking it away and looking to the cleric. Rolan said nothing, offered no protest nor assertion, simply listened as Shadowheart offered acknowledgement but no apology.

He then rose, making no attempt to touch the other as he passed... yet slowed to a pause at the closed door. While he didn't turn around, Rolan's voice was soft yet clear. "I spoke in anger too." He wasn't sorry either, not for the parts about Shar. "I was hurt, because... you matter to me. You do." Not your goddess. A small shake of his head. "You don't have to say it back." Even if you did, I'm scared I won't believe you.

Rolan pulled the door open, and left the temple. A few Ilmatari clerics hurried by to check on Cal and Lia.

----

By the time Rolan activated the sending stone, the sun hung low. More iridescent threads of magic strained taut around him, pale wisps of flame floating like stars in the ruddy light. He allowed himself just a moment to watch them from where he'd slumped to the floor, before looking to a dazed Lorroakan now snared in his own caging runes.

All Rolan could taste was the blood in his nose and mouth dripping onto his scorched robes. All he could feel was relief, not joy, that this would finally be over.

This wasn't any different. Shadowheart wasn't any different, not anymore. Not since whatever had happened between that night of theirs and now. Not since Shar. Perhaps Rolan simply wasn't meant to have anything good, wasn't meant to matter to anyone in a way that couldn't be replaced or improved upon.

His stare didn't waver when Shadowheart protested his idea. He only flinched at the venom the cleric spat next, but strove to rally his hurt into a fresh wave of anger. Easier to handle than the heartbreak.

"Stronger than what, a devil's barter?! Sure, how selfish to want to save my family without indebting them to what hurt them! How selfish to balk at a goddess who harms her chosen Dark Justiciar over a simple favor!" Threads of magic were whipping up around him again, while more tears welled over. "All I've ever been is fucking selfish, you don't have to tell me! So just let me do something good for once, please!!" Those iridescent threads snapped out violet sparks with his ragged plea, sending little pale flame-like wisps into the air.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮    He took a step back when arcane energy lashed out from the tiefling, but his expression remained cold and unyielding.

This miserable wretch… he actually dared continue slandering his Lady Shar! Shadowheart's hand had already wandered to the dagger on his belt. He might not carry his spear through the city, but no Justiciar went unarmed. 

Then Rolan's defiance gave way to raw hopelessness and grief  &  Shadowheart's fury dissolved, replaced by an immediate impulse to simply embrace him. Naturally, he immediately snuffed out his desire to comfort and coddle the wizard. 

Even so, when Shadowheart looked down at the heap of misery in front of Cal's bed he wished he wouldn't feel such… empathy. How he loathed himself for his own weakness… but there was time for penance later. Instead he just stood there, offering neither touch nor words of comfort, though he at least held his tongue and spared Rolan further wounds. His mind had already shifted to finding solutions &   one presented itself quickly ;   rolan had offered him one on a silver platter without even realizing.

Hm. Perhaps THAT was Lady Shar's test…? It would certainly prove far harder than martyrdom... 

❝Cal and Lia have no one else, you know this as well as I do. You told me yourself they weren't even permitted entry to the city,❞   he stated evenly after a moment of silence.

❝Your idea of moving the curse to another host was actually quite clever... You simply chose the wrong recipient.❞ 

His wry expression shattered as his jaw set, barely short of grinding his teeth, when all Shadowheart gave him at first was a damnably-calm insistence. Rolan wasn't sure he could stomach one more entreaty to bow to Shar. It never came. Instead, Shadowheart was agreeing with his idea, but suggesting one change.

One astonishing change.

Rolan didn't balk at the thought of inflicting Lorroakan with the Shadow Curse - if asked to pick between his master and Cal, the answer was so easy it was barely a choice. No, what gave him pause was the terrifying hope of the idea, and the risk of what failure would mean. "...He'd never agree to it, and I don't have the knowledge to fight him." Nonetheless, when Rolan's gaze returned to Shadowheart's once more, that earlier terrible clarity had softened into a blazing fire, as his posture slowly relaxed and straightened where he sat. "So how?"

Best mage in all Faerûn?!

Rolan ❤️

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He hated all of this.

The more Shadowheart said, the more Rolan's grief and anger howled in his chest. Shar had never done anything for him or his family either; letting the Shadow Curse be lifted from Lia's wound wouldn't need to happen if Shar hadn't spread that Curse in the first place. Causing the problem, then baiting the vulnerable with a 'solution'? She wasn't any different at all. And he couldn't stand how well that tactic worked. Because if he refused, what could be done? Put Shadowheart through even more agony in an attempt to still lift the Curse from Cal, when this heartless bitch of a goddess was likely to lash back with some awful punishment for trying? Sit here and watch his brother's slow death, knowing there was something he hadn't done that might've worked? But wouldn't it only work if he surrendered like Shadowheart clearly had, to bend to an owner even more fickle and cruel than Master Lorroakan?

Rolan bared his teeth when Shadowheart touched his arm, tears welling further, but didn't yet pull away.

Shaking his head, as if to cast off the tempting parts of the other's offer, he retorted, voice ragged with the force of his words: "This isn't a choice!!" Those welled tears spilled down his cheeks. "She's holding Cal's life hostage just to wring faith from me! Her curse is what's killing him! But she wants to make it my fault, wants to call me weak and cowering if I don't break in her favor?!" The longer he went on, the more wild threads of magic began to ripple the air around him. "How is that different?! How is that not demanding blind obedience?! They'd be healed by now if it wasn't for her! No - no, if there's any real choice, it's..."

Rolan cast about for a moment, glancing to Cal, then to Lia, then back. He could only think of one thing to try, though it ached his heart.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮    ❝How DARE you!!❞ He jerked his hand back as though burned & the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by fury.

Struggling to comprehend harsh truths was one thing, but he wouldn't tolerate slander against his Lady Shar. As if Rolan knew her! As if this tiefling understood anything about her mysteries, let alone Shadowheart's trials & his divine bond with her! As if Rolan could possibly know her better than HE did!

ㅤㅤㅤThat was what ignited his rage.

❝How dare you presume to understand her! You know NOTHING of the Lady of Loss or her will! I have devoted my entire life to her! I've studied her doctrine, I am the one she CHOSE, the one she speaks to!! I am her Dark Justiciar!! And you??❞ His voice, filled with rage, turned into a venomous hiss. ❝. . . You are just another ignorant fool believing lies about things you cannot understand and you will not———❞

He stopped abruptly, staring at Rolan with widening eyes as the tiefling's suggestion registered.

❝What? Have you lost your mind?? Even most of her faithful wouldn't survive absorbing her curse!❞ Shadowheart shook his head vehemently. ❝It will kill you!❞

And yes, he'd be playing favorites. He liked Cal well enough, but Rolan? Rolan he actually... cared about, even when his infuriating ignorance was making it impossible to stay patient.

❝. . . Or is that your grand plan? To risk death and leave your siblings to fend for themselves?❞ he spat. ❝How selfish. You'd rather abandon your family than claim the power to save them.❞ The cleric's eyes narrowed, both spite & disappointment in his words. He knew his words would cut like a blade into someone already consumed by self-doubt, but he refused to pull his punches for Rolan's comfort.

This wasn't any different. Shadowheart wasn't any different, not anymore. Not since whatever had happened between that night of theirs and now. Not since Shar. Perhaps Rolan simply wasn't meant to have anything good, wasn't meant to matter to anyone in a way that couldn't be replaced or improved upon.

His stare didn't waver when Shadowheart protested his idea. He only flinched at the venom the cleric spat next, but strove to rally his hurt into a fresh wave of anger. Easier to handle than the heartbreak.

"Stronger than what, a devil's barter?! Sure, how selfish to want to save my family without indebting them to what hurt them! How selfish to balk at a goddess who harms her chosen Dark Justiciar over a simple favor!" Threads of magic were whipping up around him again, while more tears welled over. "All I've ever been is fucking selfish, you don't have to tell me! So just let me do something good for once, please!!" Those iridescent threads snapped out violet sparks with his ragged plea, sending little pale flame-like wisps into the air.

But, he and his family, dead without Shar? Fragments from their conversation in the Last Light Inn, what led to their shared night that seemed a lifetime ago, returned to Rolan's mind. You risked your life for them despite the impossible odds. I'd be grateful beyond measure if I had someone willing to do even half of what you did. It speaks to remarkable willpower. You should be proud of yourself. Truly. Had Shadowheart meant any of that? Or had the 'Lady of Loss' stolen his kindness, left a play-act in its place?

Rolan watched the other, baffled and a little wary. Sifting through what Shadowheart said, past countless days of battering and stress and grief and fitful sleep, wasn't easy. He still tried, despite his confusion. Maybe she hadn't stolen that kindness so much as twisted it, to the point Shadowheart thought all of that made sense or was any kind of good.

"I matter, to her?" Rolan echoed, brittle and wry, as he managed to slowly stand. "If I matter so bloody much, why is her curse killing my family? Why won't she just let you heal them? Why—" He paused, trying to keep his thoughts collected, though his inhale trembled like his clenched hands at his sides. "She's dangling Cal's life over our heads. As, as if I owe her anything? What, I should give her my obedience because she 'sees something in me'?!" A humorless laugh snapped from Rolan's throat. "I've heard that one before, and look where it's landed me!" He gestured in illustration to his face, bruised in several places with a short, recently-scabbed gash on his temple. "This isn't even the half of it. But I'm supposed to believe Shar's different? When she just tormented you, a Dark Justiciar, for trying to help my brother?!"

🌑 . . . ╰──╮    ❝Torment??❞   He echoed incredulously before Rolan could even finish his sentence.  ❝If she wanted me to truly suffer, I wouldn't be here having this conversation!❞ 

His expression hardened as he rose from his chair as well. Were it anyone else  &   were Rolan not so clearly distraught, Shadowheart's response to such blasphemy would have been far harsher. 

He clenched his jaw, looking at Rolan's face, then put two and two together. Shadowheart had suspected it, but those bruises… they must have been his master's doing, no doubt. Yet he showed no sympathy. His voice stayed sharp, his green eyes cold & piercing as he stood tall before the tiefling.

❝Tell me, Rolan, who else has been here for you? Hmm?? Has your precious Mystra intervened?❞   He spat the name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.   ❝Has Illmater's divine power cured them? Have any of these righteous citizens lifted a finger to help??❞

Shadowheart scoffed, the sound devoid of anything playful.   ❝I don't think so. Not one person, not one of these hypocritcal gods of light or justice, has done anything for you. It was the Nightsinger. She has granted me the power to save you and Lia when she could have let all three of you die. That alone proves she is fundamentally different, wouldn't you agree?❞

His harsh expression finally softened when he noticed tears forming in Rolan's mesmerizing eyes.

He knew the lessons of his goddess could be brutal and some took YEARS to understand them, while others shattered completely under their weight. He couldn't let that happen to Rolan. This was all so much to take in, especially for someone already beaten down & drowning in fear for his family.

The Justiciar paused, then reached out to place a leather-clad hand on his shoulder before sliding gently down his arm. 

❝She doesn't want your blind obedience like them. The Lady of Loss has no use for the weak and cowering, and right now she is offering you a choice, Rolan.❞

ㅤㅤ He squeezed the wizard's arm slightly. Trying to ground him. ㅤTo reassure him he wasn't ALONE in this.

He hated all of this.

The more Shadowheart said, the more Rolan's grief and anger howled in his chest. Shar had never done anything for him or his family either; letting the Shadow Curse be lifted from Lia's wound wouldn't need to happen if Shar hadn't spread that Curse in the first place. Causing the problem, then baiting the vulnerable with a 'solution'? She wasn't any different at all. And he couldn't stand how well that tactic worked. Because if he refused, what could be done? Put Shadowheart through even more agony in an attempt to still lift the Curse from Cal, when this heartless bitch of a goddess was likely to lash back with some awful punishment for trying? Sit here and watch his brother's slow death, knowing there was something he hadn't done that might've worked? But wouldn't it only work if he surrendered like Shadowheart clearly had, to bend to an owner even more fickle and cruel than Master Lorroakan?

Rolan bared his teeth when Shadowheart touched his arm, tears welling further, but didn't yet pull away.

Shaking his head, as if to cast off the tempting parts of the other's offer, he retorted, voice ragged with the force of his words: "This isn't a choice!!" Those welled tears spilled down his cheeks. "She's holding Cal's life hostage just to wring faith from me! Her curse is what's killing him! But she wants to make it my fault, wants to call me weak and cowering if I don't break in her favor?!" The longer he went on, the more wild threads of magic began to ripple the air around him. "How is that different?! How is that not demanding blind obedience?! They'd be healed by now if it wasn't for her! No - no, if there's any real choice, it's..."

Rolan cast about for a moment, glancing to Cal, then to Lia, then back. He could only think of one thing to try, though it ached his heart.

The voice that cut into his jumbled thoughts, careful in calling his name, wasn't Master Lorroakan's. Shadowheart. Shadowheart was safe. ...Wasn't he? A little of that angry snap from the cleric still resonated in the back of his mind.

Rolan managed to drag his gaze back to Shadowheart, earnestness now tinged with a subtle haze of fear, confusion, and naked desperation. They were here, in this temple, for his family. To help Lia and Cal both... so why were the other clerics gone? And why did Shadowheart look at him like that? Agree? To what? Hear out what? Why would he need 'an open mind'? Foreboding settled uneasy in his still-chilled stomach.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮ Shadowheart nodded & decided to rip off the bandaid.

❝My power... It comes from Shar, the Lady of Loss herself. I am one of her faithful... and more than that. I am a Dark Justiciar — one of the few she has chosen to carry out her will.❞ Despite the matter-of-factly tone, a hint of pride threaded through his words.

❝Without her guidance, we'd be dead by now. You and your siblings included,❞ he added, hoping this might keep Rolan from reacting too hastily.

❝Lady Shar has already seen fit to grant me the power to aid you, more than once. That isn't something she does lightly. It suggests she might see something in you... as do I.❞

He held Rolan's gaze, his tone turning softer, more sincere. Hopeful, even. Oh, how he wanted to be right about this! If Lady Shar saw something in Rolan worth preserving, then there was hope for them after all (& it would give him an convenient excuse to remain at their side).

But, he and his family, dead without Shar? Fragments from their conversation in the Last Light Inn, what led to their shared night that seemed a lifetime ago, returned to Rolan's mind. You risked your life for them despite the impossible odds. I'd be grateful beyond measure if I had someone willing to do even half of what you did. It speaks to remarkable willpower. You should be proud of yourself. Truly. Had Shadowheart meant any of that? Or had the 'Lady of Loss' stolen his kindness, left a play-act in its place?

Rolan watched the other, baffled and a little wary. Sifting through what Shadowheart said, past countless days of battering and stress and grief and fitful sleep, wasn't easy. He still tried, despite his confusion. Maybe she hadn't stolen that kindness so much as twisted it, to the point Shadowheart thought all of that made sense or was any kind of good.

"I matter, to her?" Rolan echoed, brittle and wry, as he managed to slowly stand. "If I matter so bloody much, why is her curse killing my family? Why won't she just let you heal them? Why—" He paused, trying to keep his thoughts collected, though his inhale trembled like his clenched hands at his sides. "She's dangling Cal's life over our heads. As, as if I owe her anything? What, I should give her my obedience because she 'sees something in me'?!" A humorless laugh snapped from Rolan's throat. "I've heard that one before, and look where it's landed me!" He gestured in illustration to his face, bruised in several places with a short, recently-scabbed gash on his temple. "This isn't even the half of it. But I'm supposed to believe Shar's different? When she just tormented you, a Dark Justiciar, for trying to help my brother?!"

Rolan moved at the first groan from Lia, sitting at the other edge of her bed. He brushed some stray hair back from her face, other hand resting on her shoulder to stop her moving too much, while he murmured whatever reassurances came to mind. Still, his gaze flicked to Shadowheart several times, brow furrowing; it looked like the cleric was... absorbing the Shadow Curse? Gods, how was that possible without horrid consequences?

And yet, it was. It worked.

Sighing his relief, Rolan reluctantly stepped back so the Ilmatari clerics nearby could better tend to Lia's wound for good. He answered Shadowheart's smile with a grin, though his battered face ached in doing so. Just as he was crossing to the other side of Cal's bed, however, the half-elf recoiled with an agonized yelp. Rolan froze, and even as he watched Shadowheart's pain seemed to worsen. 'Horrid consequences', wasn't it?

He hurried instead to kneel beside the chair the other was helped into. Rolan rested fingertips gingerly on Shadowheart's curled, clutched hand - the apparent source, maybe where the curse had coalesced? "What can I do?" he breathed in utter earnestness. "How can I help?"

🌑 . . . ╰──╮ ❝I said I need a moment!❞ He snapped at Rolan as he pulled his hand back sharply, partly from lingering pain, but mostly from sheer frustration.

Frustration he had no right to feel ——— he was a DARK JUSTICIAR, for gods' sake!! Anger at Shar the situation twisted quickly into anger at himself, at his own weakness. What had he been thinking?? He should be grateful Shar hadn't punished him worse...

His shallow breathing steadied & he looked at Cal again. Lady Shar's power was not meant to be given freely. She didn't offer miracles without reason... Their desperation was necessary, a tool to be leveraged ; desperation had a way of opening one's eyes & it was Shadowheart's sacred duty to guide the desperate into Lady Shar's embrace so they, too, might see the truth.

ㅤㅤㅤThis... this was an opportunity.

❝Leave us. Please.❞ He didn't look at the clerics, but his tone left no room for argument. Reluctantly, they left the room & Shadowheart stared at his hands for a long moment, weighing his next words carefully.

❝Rolan, there... there is something I must tell you...❞ He hesitated, then finally lifted his gaze to meet Rolan's fiery amber eyes. How beautiful they were... he could only hope their beauty was something the Lady of Loss might allow him to keep in his heart as a memory... along with the night they had shared.

❝You know what we've done for you and your family. I wouldn't have bothered at all if I didn't intend to help. That hasn't changed, otherwise I'd be elsewhere.❞

Even when he had dressed it up as pragmatism ( & still would...), their shared night had revealed that the cleric did, in fact, care — well, if one had even the slightest insight about people.

Shadowheart's expression was almost pleading.

The voice that cut into his jumbled thoughts, careful in calling his name, wasn't Master Lorroakan's. Shadowheart. Shadowheart was safe. ...Wasn't he? A little of that angry snap from the cleric still resonated in the back of his mind.

Rolan managed to drag his gaze back to Shadowheart, earnestness now tinged with a subtle haze of fear, confusion, and naked desperation. They were here, in this temple, for his family. To help Lia and Cal both... so why were the other clerics gone? And why did Shadowheart look at him like that? Agree? To what? Hear out what? Why would he need 'an open mind'? Foreboding settled uneasy in his still-chilled stomach.

What sort of care that might be was trivial, in the face of Shadowheart's frank offer. Rolan knew the Ilmatari clerics were doing their best, but admittedly he wasn't familiar with their type of magic. And here, too, the specifics could come later. Shadowheart was offering help, a cure.

As soon as he took one step rounding past the counter's edge, Rolan paused. Fear raked frigid claws down his spine, with another glance toward the tower's portal. If Master Lorroakan found out he'd closed the shop early, for the sake of personal business, the only variable was how bad he'd make Rolan bleed.

...So what.

So what.

Lia and Cal had already bled, were suffering for doing the right thing. His family needed him. He couldn't fail them again; he refused to. Besides, his master never deigned to set foot in the shop anymore, too focused on seeking the Nightsong. A deep, bracing breath tinged with both resignation and resolution. Rolan crossed to what few other customers were browsing the shelves, to inform them the shop was closing for important business. Only after did he look to Shadowheart once more, a little renewed life in dulled golden eyes. "Follow me."

It was a struggle not to break into a run. Nonetheless, he made a beeline for the Open Hand Temple in long strides, trusting Shadowheart would keep up. One of the temple's clergy who greeted them near the door first stared at Rolan's face in mild alarm. Cutting off any offer of treatment for himself, he assured he'd brought help for his siblings, and didn't wait to be escorted.

🌑 . . . ╰──╮ Upon seeing them, Shadowheart felt another pang in his chest.

They looked terrible... It was good Rolan had chosen to bring him here, because judging by Lia's & Cal's condition, the shadows had already begun festering. Without intervention, it would be days at most before the curse claimed them. The clerics here could only delay the inevitable.

He glanced at Rolan briefly, silently asking permission, then stepped closer.

The two clerics looked distinctly alarmed, not just at Rolan, but at Shadowheart, this stranger who began whispering ominous things under his breath as his hands hovered over Lia first. The shadowy tendrils stirred and writhed beneath her skin & the unconcious tiefling groaned in agony as they were pulled by an invisible force toward Shadowheart's palm. His eyes rolled back as his Dark Lady's essence flooded into him. He absorbed it ; he couldn't destroy it, only take it into himself.

❝Nghh...—❞ He bit back a sound of pain because gods, it hurt. Ice crept through his veins, seized his heart... before melding with the dark power Lady Shar had already granted him & the pain ebbed away.

With a shaky breath, he blinked and examined his work. It had worked. Lia's wound was just a wound now.

ㅤㅤㅤGood.

He smiled at Rolan, reassuring and satisfied, then reached toward Cal to repeat the process . . .

A searing bolt of white hot agony tore through him, radiating from the mark on his hand. He couldn't hold back the CRY & staggered backward.

❝Ah———!!❞ He clutched his hand. The clerics who'd watched first with suspicion, then awe, rushed forward to help.

❝What... what is this?? I don't understand...❞ The words came between gasps, more to himself than anyone else. Did Shar not want him to save Cal? Why not!? Guilt surged, followed by anger at the injustice... & the mark flared worse in response to his blasphemous feelings, pain so intense black spots bloomed across his vision.

ㅤWho was he to question his Dark Lady? ㅤHis Lady who had granted him such power?? ㅤWho had ALLOWED him to save even one of them?

❝I.. I just need a moment,❞ he whispered as he sank down into a chair, waiting for the pain to ease so he could... think.

Rolan moved at the first groan from Lia, sitting at the other edge of her bed. He brushed some stray hair back from her face, other hand resting on her shoulder to stop her moving too much, while he murmured whatever reassurances came to mind. Still, his gaze flicked to Shadowheart several times, brow furrowing; it looked like the cleric was... absorbing the Shadow Curse? Gods, how was that possible without horrid consequences?

And yet, it was. It worked.

Sighing his relief, Rolan reluctantly stepped back so the Ilmatari clerics nearby could better tend to Lia's wound for good. He answered Shadowheart's smile with a grin, though his battered face ached in doing so. Just as he was crossing to the other side of Cal's bed, however, the half-elf recoiled with an agonized yelp. Rolan froze, and even as he watched Shadowheart's pain seemed to worsen. 'Horrid consequences', wasn't it?

He hurried instead to kneel beside the chair the other was helped into. Rolan rested fingertips gingerly on Shadowheart's curled, clutched hand - the apparent source, maybe where the curse had coalesced? "What can I do?" he breathed in utter earnestness. "How can I help?"