The Quest for Dawn

Chapter 30: Rebirth

As the night deepened, Astarion surrendered to the depths of his trance, allowing the memories to flow freely, especially those imbued with warmth and happiness. He felt the comforting presence of Tavriel beside him in their soft bed, her gentle aura a constant reassurance. His visions transported him back to their shared experiences, reliving the moments when he grappled with fear and uncertainty about his own existence. He vividly recalled the awe he felt upon experiencing the newfound freedom they had sought, a gift accompanied by a chilling reality – the parasitic illithid that threatened to consume him, transforming him into a monstrous entity if their mission had failed.

The fear had been visceral then, an unrelenting presence that fueled his every action. He cloaked his terror behind a veil of sarcasm and dark humor, finding solace in the mockery of his adversaries...and occasionally his companions as well.

The slaughter of goblins and cultists became his release, a cathartic discharge that momentarily silenced the demons within. With every thrust of his blade, he sought to vanquish the phantom menace that haunted his mind. His enemies were mere reflections of the tormentor who held him captive, and he struck them down with a desperate ferocity that masked his own inner turmoil.

In his reverie, he drifted to the night he had been so weak from hunger, when the boar he had found days ago was the last time he had fed. Astarion had laid awake that night, restless from a nightmare about Cazador, fearful of his potential reach, and aching deeply from a hunger for blood. Desperate, he had quietly risen, sweeping his gaze over his sleeping companions before his eyes fell on the little moon elf sorceress. He was forbidden from drinking the blood of thinking creatures, and yet he could not deny his insatiable curiosity. The moon elf would prove to be a victim of least resistance, and so he crept up, wondering, hoping that what he was about to do would fill the ache in his stomach.

But she awoke. An elf was aware of their surroundings during trance, and his weakened state of mind had been too desperate to consider this.

"...shit." Astarion quickly stood and took a step back, watching her climb to her feet. Her stance was strong, her fists clenched. "No, no. It's not what it looks like, I swear."

"I can't believe I didn't see it," she growled, "we even found the boar you snacked on."

Astarion stood taller, and gave his defense, "It's not what you think. I'm not some monster. I feed on animals. Boar, deer, kobolds - whatever I can get. I'm...just too slow right now. Too weak." His face softened, his plea as sincere as he could muster. "If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

There had been the strange sensation of the illithid tadpoles bridging a connection between their minds. Then Tavriel's expression changed from ire to concern. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"At best, I was sure you'd say no," he conceded, a hint of resignation in his tone. "More likely you'd ram a stake through my ribs." He offered the smallest of smiles, one that spoke of deceit through his dark humor. The moon elf was listening, and that was amusing in itself, he thought wryly. "No, I needed you to trust me. And you can... trust me." Every ounce of performance was put into his display of earnestness, leaning into his words.

"You tried to bite me! How can I trust you?"

"Because we don't have a choice! Not if we're going to save ourselves from these worms," he protested impatiently, his mind consumed by the gnawing hunger that clawed at his insides. Tavriel's persistent questions were grating on his nerves, and all he craved was a morsel, a taste of her essence. Perhaps more, depending on her flavor, which he yearned to discover.

"I need you alive," he declared with a forced sincerity, "You need me strong." His words, intended to carry weight, sounded hollow to his own ears, and he quickly slipped back into his familiar guise of manipulative pleas. "Please," he begged, his voice oozing with feigned desperation. "It'll only be a taste. I swear. I'll be well, you'll be fine, and everything can go back to normal."