Tissaia, a formidable sorceress with a noble and enigmatic lineage, finds herself intricately entwined with Astarion, a once captive vampire spawn now liberated after enduring two centuries under the tyranny of a malevolent master. Their connection...
Astarion struggles with consciousness as his body is roughly dragged across the ground by the unknown savior. The world around him blurs, and he can only grasp fragments of what is happening to him. The woman's grip shows little delicacy as she pulls him through the rugged streets of Baldur's Gate. Why is she saving a vampire, and what intentions does she harbor?
The vampire's thoughts spiral in an endless loop, intensified by the severe blood loss and the dizzying sensation. The metallic taste of the sweet life fluid clings to his tongue, and the adrenaline rushing through his veins allows him to vaguely perceive his surroundings. The petite woman attempts to hoist his limp body onto a horse. The nervous animal reacts to the scent of blood and the commanding words of the woman. "Just stay still now!" echoes from her mouth, but Astarion is unsure if the words are directed at him or the agitated steed.
In a desperate attempt to mount the horse, the bolt in Astarion's flesh stirs, and he groans in pain. He clings tightly as the woman tightens the reins and sets the horse in motion. The hooves of the animal pound loudly on the stone pavement, a resounding noise that torments Astarion's ears. He tries to hold onto the woman to avoid falling, and a crooked grin crosses his face as he catches her scent - lilac and gooseberries. With closed eyes, he clings desperately to this faint trace of reality.
The hooves of the stallion thud as they gallop along a dirt path - somewhere outside the city. Astarion has never left Baldur's Gate since he began serving his undead master. His existence was confined to the palace and nightly forays into the Baldurian nightlife in search of potential victims. Now, he breathes in the fresh, cool forest air, filling his lungs with relief. The city air, stale and saturated with the suffering of its residents, is left behind.
The horse comes to a stop, prancing excitedly, while the mysterious woman attempts to bring it under control. Astarion blinks vigorously, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. The outlines of a three-story stone house become apparent - certainly not a farmhouse, but the estate of a noble. His presumed savior dismounts and wrestles with the unruly steed to lift the semi-lifeless vampire from its back.
"Damn horse!" she curses as the horse rears up, tossing Astarion aside, before galloping into the darkness of the dense forest, leaving behind a swirling cloud of dust.
The impact in the dirt is brutal, and Astarion lets out a loud, pain-filled groan. A pool of blood gathers in his mouth, and he spits it out. The woman wrinkles her nose in disgust but grabs him determinedly, attempting to move his battered body. Astarion's eyes roll backward, and his thoughts flicker through his weakened mind: "I've died once before, I know what it feels like, and yet, this time, it's so different." Then follows complete silence, no light at the end of the tunnel.
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Astarion opens his eyes and gasps for air, his hand instinctively reaching to his abdomen. An expression of pain crosses his face as he feels the thick bandage generously wrapped around his upper body. Under his fingers, he senses the damp fabric soaked with blood, right at the spot where the massive crossbow bolt had penetrated his body.
