Enrolled in Epicness - A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic

2. A Foul Fire

When Astarion opened his eyes again, he was standing on firm ground, surrounded by the swirling void of the Astral Plane. The rock he arrived on seemed less than a kilometer wide, floating in chaos among many like it. Not a new experience, but usually he wasn't there alone. He almost let out a shout, in case the others were near, but experience reminded him that nefarious creatures could be lurking behind every corner. Thus, stealthy as a mosquito on an unsuspecting victim's foot, he began exploring his surroundings.

The floating rock was home to a family of eight-eyed rats with slimy, toadish flesh. Biting one seemed unappealing, so, bracing against the hunger, Astarion looked beyond the ledges. The nearest rock hovered lower, and three intimidating shapes were walking on it, their plate armor glinting under astral starlight—Githyanki. He could almost smell the sweat on their leathery skin. That group would surely attack him, so he looked in the opposite direction.

A short distance away, a larger rock contained a cave. A pillar, made from a different stone, stood at its entrance... interesting, but risky. Farther away, eerie blue light emanated from yet another celestial plateau. That could be the others—or even Tav—but getting there required a pass by the cave.

With a nervous sigh, Astarion leaped. The Astral Plane's lower pull let him glide much farther than on Faerûn, and he landed safely not far from the pillar. Its surface was smooth, save for a single word in an unfamiliar language, its letters like talons and daggers. "Would it kill someone to put a readable sign?" he muttered, advancing softly to the entrance. The opening was large enough for a reasonably sized person—Halsin would have to crouch. As his eyes got accustomed to the dark, his ears picked faint noises from inside, like insects nibbling on coarse gravel.

A warm scent permeated his nostrils—blood, delicious blood. A risk worth taking.

Licking his lips, Astarion snuck inside. Of course Tav had to get lost inside the Astral Plane, a favorite of mad mages and malicious aliens. Why couldn't it be a cultured city instead? Like Baldur's Gate, with its bustling taverns, shops, smithies, and Sharess' Caress. Stirring memories of that realm resurfaced—pampering mattresses, plump cushions, pallet-pleasing wine, and... pleasuring touch. Next time there, he should rent the Drow Twins for a full-blown orgy and leave Tav drooling outside—just as she'd done to him!

With those frustrating thoughts in mind, Astarion delved deeper into the dark cave. Carvings of winged horrors and mind flayers adorned the walls, mixed with more sharp-edged letters. The rocky corridor led to a hall with a shrine at its center. A ram's head, black iron with rubies for eyes, sat atop it, lit by a host of crimson candles. A pungent aroma hung in the air, stinging his nose. It reminded him of someone... Not Tav, whose scent was a lively blend of boldness with a pinch of murder. It was more akin to... fire and brimstone.

A sudden burst of flames made Astarion gasp in surprise. A silhouette appeared inside the fire, humanoid and imposing, winged and horned. He drew Gandrel's Aspiration, his magical heavy crossbow, prepared to fight or flee as needed.

"Show yourself, devil."

"My, my, what a fine choice of words," a deep, commanding voice said as the shadow emerged from the flames, becoming a tall man, dressed in a luxurious, red-sleeved blue doublet and wearing the finest of smiles. He straightened the white ruff around his neck and gazed at Astarion with hazel eyes that bordered on orange.

"Raphael." He huffed at the cambion, half-relieved and half-concerned. "You nearly scared me to death."

"Compliment accepted," the devil said, grinning. "Looking for Tav, I assume."

"Not at all. I came here looking for a fresh breath of air."

"And you've found it!" Raphael raised his arms, his eyes and buttons shining in the dancing light. "The one person in Baldur's Gate who consistently outdresses you."