Day 5 - Part 2 - This Tiefling's on fire
How is it march already? This is scary somehow :)
Let's dive back into Faerûn and see what other devil's cross Ada's path today. (feat. the goodest boy)
Please mind the Content Warnings for this fic! If you want to start at the very beginning, check here.
Read the full fanfic on AO3 now 🗡️
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The village was beyond saving. Most of the houses were in various stages of destruction—roofs collapsed, walls blackened from recent fires. Some buildings still smouldered, wisps of smoke curling up into the sky. No sign of anyone left alive here.
The group moved cautiously, scanning the surroundings for any remaining threats, but the goblins seemed gone by now.
They passed through the cobbled streets and were heading north, not wasting time on trying to find anything useful in the ruins. That was, until they came across an apothecary—or rather, what was left of it.
In the shop, they found some dried flowers, as well as a few small bottles of potions. Gale pocketed them, determined to find out what exactly those might be useful for. Ada and Shadowheart found some ceramic jars filled with herbal tea mixtures.
Judging by the smell, one was a blend of chamomile, lavender, and lemon balm. Another contained mint leaves and something more floral. Ada was delighted to find something nice in a place like this.
Gale had done his best to forage herbs for tea, but Ada’s soul ached with joy at the mental image of drinking calming lavender tea before sleep.
In a smaller cabinet, they also found some corked bottles and blocks of soap that smelled faintly of honey and rosemary. The bottles turned out to contain oils scented with flowers. Ada decided to take the bars of soap, frankly they could all use a good bath. She took two bottles of oil, just because she liked the scent.
They entered the basement of another ruined house, descending into the cool, damp air beneath the wreckage. The goblins, it seemed, had left this place untouched as well.
Supplies were scattered across a workbench and shelves: thieves’ tools, bags of lentils and potatoes, bread still fresh in its wrapping, and half a dozen bottles of wine that Gale eyed with interest, like a sommelier assessing a prized vintage.
"Well, at least we won’t go hungry," Gale said, his lips quirking into a slight smile as he examined one of the bottles. But Ada’s attention was elsewhere.
Wyll stood over a heavy-looking chest, his forehead scrunched together. “There is something off about this,” he said, which immediately piqued Gale’s interest and drew him away from the wine.
From amidst dust-covered tools and scraps, Gale produced a hand-sized piece of metal. Dark and jagged, it had a rugged, almost volcanic texture, and it emitted a faint red glow, as though smouldering from within. It looked sinister and otherworldly.
Wyll hissed as Gale touched the item with bare hands. The wizard did not seem to notice. His eyes widened as he studied the metal.
"Infernal," he muttered, his voice full of curiosity. "This is fascinating. A fragment, perhaps, of something far greater." His fingers brushed the surface. "Hmm."
After a long moment, he tucked it into his pack. "We ought to keep it close," he said, ignoring Wyll’s weak protest about potential dangers. "We may need to investigate this further. It’s not something to ignore."
***
They left the village behind, the terrain becoming more rugged as they climbed into the hills, the oppressive weight of the village’s grim fate lingering in the back of Ada’s mind.
In sharp contrast to that, the river flowed gently beside them. Its soft murmurs seemed oblivious to the tragedy of the Blithed Village. Mostly, they walked in silence, but every now and then, they stopped to forage for something they found by the road.
“I am reminded of an account I read, about a young couple scavenging for food in and around Athkatla. They were down on their luck, and to make matters worse, not aware how easy it was to mistake the innocent look of deadly nightshade for its more agreeable cousin: the wild blueberry.”
While Ada liked listening to Gale’s anecdotes, Shadowheart seemed confident in her scouring abilities and did not seem to enjoy the running commentary.
As they drew closer to the water’s edge, Ada spotted something ahead. A body was crumpled on the ground like discarded paper. They moved cautiously, weapons at the ready, but the sight that greeted them wasn’t an immediate threat.
A man lay near the bank, his clothes torn and his mail scattered across the ground. It looked like his torso had literally been torn open, with claws or teeth Ada did not care to imagine. The sound of buzzing flies around him made her sick.
Beside the corpse, a dog paced restlessly, his thick white fur matted with dirt. His pointed ears flicked nervously, and his wide, amber eyes darted between the dead body and the approaching group.
The dog was large and sturdy but not intimidating. Just a loyal companion clearly shaken by the violence that had unfolded.
Ada approached slowly, keeping her movements small, trying not to spook him. The dog’s bark was sharp and aggressive, but she could sense the fear in it. He was on edge, guarding his master the only way he knew how.
She heard him bark again, but this time, Ada could make out words. The sensation wasn’t unfamiliar. It was just like when she’d spoken with the squirrels back at the grove.
"Leave. Now. Or I will bite."
Ada paused, her heart clenching at the sorrow in his warning. She didn't look away from him, but she also didn’t advance. Instead, Ada crouched down, tilting her head forward slightly to appear smaller.
“I promise, I mean you no harm,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “My name is Ada.”
She could feel her companions watching her, waiting to see how this would unfold. The dog’s ears flicked again, and though he still looked cautious, there was a slight shift in his stance, less aggressive, more curious.
“Master called me Scratch,” he said, his voice less biting now, “You can do the same.”
"Scratch," Ada repeated it gently, as though offering him a small bridge of trust. “I see you’re protecting your master.”
Her gaze drifted to the man lying beside him. The life had long since left him, but Scratch refused to leave his side. He didn’t yet know, or perhaps he didn’t want to know.
“I’m not sure your master will wake up again,” she tried, her voice soft. But the dog did not seem to understand. His loyalty kept him close to his fallen master’s side.
“Here,” Ada said, slowly extending her hand. “Take my scent. If you, or your master, ever need help, you can come to our camp.”
Scratch hesitated for a moment, then cautiously approached, his nose twitching as he sniffed Ada’s hand. He let out a soft whine, almost mournful, but he didn’t back away. Ada gave a slow nod, standing up straight again.
“He is scared, but not dangerous,” Ada said to the others, “And he is much friendlier than those squirrels yesterday.”
Gale offered a thoughtful smile. “Another fascinating show of druidic magic, I’d say. The consistency is a promising sign, really. It means your body is attuning to its powers. I think we can expect more as we continue.”
That gave Ada a spark of hope. Perhaps she was beginning to gain control over her body and her magic, if not over the tadpole yet. As strange as it felt, there was comfort in that thought.
Next to her, Astarion groaned dramatically, tossing his head back. "Really, darling? Another stray? Will we be adopting every flea-bitten creature we stumble upon now?"
Ada paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face before a playful smile tugged at her lips. "Yes, actually. That’s exactly my plan."
Astarion raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his expression one of clear disdain. "Oh, marvellous. I simply cannot wait to see what mangy beast we drag in next."
Casually, Ada tilted her head and replied, "Well, we did take you in, didn’t we?"
A soft laugh escaped from Gale as he walked alongside them.
The elf looked deeply offended, muttering something under his breath about how perfectly non-mangy his hair was. And yet, Ada could have sworn there was a twinkle of appreciation in his eyes, acknowledging her well-placed jab.
They gave Scratch one last look, letting him linger by his master’s side for now. Then the group turned and continued following the river upstream.
***
The sound of rushing water grew louder, and the rocky terrain grew more uneven. Ada would have sold her soul for some rest at this point. Her shoulders ached, and her feet were sore from walking in these unfamiliar boots. She was sweaty and exhausted, and her mind lingered on the destruction and hurt they had seen earlier.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Not in this world, not with the tadpoles inside them and danger lurking around every bend.
As they continued, a low sound reached her ears—a voice carried on the wind. It wasn’t clear at first, but as they moved closer, it became unmistakable that someone was in pain.
The voice was filled with guttural grunts, strained and desperate, as if someone were fighting the very force of their own body. Ada’s heart quickened, and the smell of sulphur tickled her nose once again. She shot a glance at her companions, her mind flashing back to Raphael. Could it be another devil?
Rounding the river bend, the source of the sound became clear. A woman stood hunched over, her body wracked with pain, flames licking up and down her figure.
Ada’s eyes widened in shock, registering that this woman was engulfed in fire but still alive, though barely. From the way she held herself, she guessed she was wounded in addition to the fire radiating off her.
Nobody moved. Ada’s instincts screamed to stay back, to stay quiet—but Wyll stepped forward. His voice cut through the crackling flames with the force of command.
“One horn. The stink of Avernus. Advocatus Diavoli!” he recited, the words sharp with purpose.
Ada recognised the name. The face clicked into place: Wyll’s memory. This was the devil he’d been sent to kill.
Her heart raced with uncertainty, her mind struggling to reconcile what she was seeing in front of her with what she knew from Wyll.
Karlach’s skin was the colour of deep-forged iron. Her hair was wild, swept back in a way that looked effortless. Streaks of ember-red and soot-black ran through it. Woven into her hair were small pieces of metal. It had obviously been done with great care.
Despite the heat radiating from her, her extremely worn dark leather clung to her skin. It looked like patchwork, mended where needed, but with the knowledge that it might fall apart in another place soon.
Jagged, glowing scars veined her chest and arms, pulsing faintly. Behind her leather clothes, Ada could see that the core of her chest was glowing in the same rhythm. Like a heartbeat of banked coals. Like something inside her was burning its way out.
“Well, I’ll be godsdamned. The Blade of Frontiers.” She turned to them now, her eyes narrowed, trying not to let her physical agony show. “Thought I’d shaken you for good. Seems like I underestimated you.”
The woman looked Wyll up and down, her features twisted in a mix of pain and bitter amusement.
Looking at her, standing right before them, Ada felt uneasy. This was not the dangerous devil from Wyll’s memories. This woman looked more like Ada than any of the devils they had seen.
Karlach was horned, like her: a dark, ridged crescent curling back from the left side of her brow like it had been carved from obsidian. The other, on Karlach’s right, was shattered—snapped merely two inches from the base, like it had been broken off in a fight.
Ada felt a deep admiration for the burning woman. There was a loud and unapologetic fierceness in Karlach. She had a couple of inches on Ada in height and stood tall—as tall as her injuries allowed—and did not shrink from the man with the rapier pointed at her.
“Any last words before I send you back to the Hells?” Wyll stepped closer, his blade drawn, the tip pointed at her chest, unwavering despite the uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
Wait, Ada thought, does he see it too? Does he also know something is wrong here?
Karlach huffed and lifted her chin. “An honour to be chased by the Blade of Frontiers. But—agh!”
Again, Ada felt the unwelcome but familiar sensation of the tadpole writhing behind her eye. It connected her mind to the woman before them.
A great heat roared through her, fiery as the Hells. Then she was lost in visions of demonic armies as Karlach tore through a landscape of fire and blood. The Blood War. She had seen it from above as the nautiloid passed through Avernus—this woman was on the front line.
The vision ended, and Karlach’s eyes darted around in a panic, clearly just as disoriented as Ada felt. “What was that?!”
“Evidence,” Wyll barked, the tip of his weapon still trained on Karlach’s chest. “Proof that you're a devil, a gladiator in the archdevil Zariel's army.”
“You don’t understand, man! It’s a whole messed-up situation! If you would just—”
Karlach's greataxe was raised, slicing through devils—Zariel's servants—as her eyes darted around, seeking escape. Her rage and desperation seeped into Ada. She was a victim of the Blood War, not an agent of it.
The second vision was gone as quickly as it came. The connection severed, and Ada was back in her own body, the oppressive heat of the woman’s flames fading from her mind.
“Shit,” Wyll muttered, still standing with his blade at the ready. “She’s deceiving you,” he warned, but his voice sounded even less certain than it had before.
Karlach looked at Wyll, something pleading in her fiery eyes. “You saw the truth.” She pointed to her eye, where Ada knew a tadpole had been inserted. “I never wanted to serve Zariel. I was forced to fight!”
Her words echoed off the stone walls behind her, ringing with fury. This woman was a fire in more than the literal sense. Ada’s heart ached at the pain in Karlach’s voice, yet also in awe of the woman’s freedom of expression. The kind that said, “I survived what was done to me. And I’m still standing.”
“When I saw a chance to get away, I took it,” Karlach continued. “Jumped aboard the bloody mindflayer ship.” She nodded up the hill behind them, towards a burning house. “But when I got here, these so-called paladins came after me, trying to drag me back to Avernus. So I blasted them to smithereens.”
Karlach paused, breath ragged. All eyes were on her.
“Hold on, Wyll,” Ada spoke up. Her voice was steady but filled with questions. “Why are you sent to kill a tiefling? You know she’s not a devil. Even I can see it.”
Wyll’s face was hardened, his jaw clenched tight as he glared at Karlach. He looked like he was in agony, just like the burning woman in front of him.
The tiefling’s eyes flickered over to Ada, then back to Wyll. “You know she is right. You know I am not a monster. Can’t you see I’m not what you think?”
“Shit,” Wyll repeated, lowering his blade. He hung his head. “Shit. Shit. SHIT!”
His voice rose with desperation. He was clearly spiralling now. His usual heroic antics seemed forgotten.
Shadowheart, watching from behind, crossed her arms, sizing up the Blade of Frontiers like she was seeing him for the first time. “Will you please explain what is going on? There is clearly more to this than you are telling us.”
“Please,” Gale added, sounding both wary and curious. “You sound like a man with the Nine Hells on his heels.”
“I can’t do it,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “As much as I want to avoid the reckoning that is coming for me, I can’t take her life.”
He turned to face the group, his tone sombre. “I can’t explain everything. Not yet.” He glanced at Ada, his expression torn. “But tonight, when I pay my penance, the veil will be lifted.”
“Wyll...” Ada began, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“You are not in any danger, I promise. I just wish I could say the same for myself.”
And with those words, he walked off, further down the road that would lead them up the hill to the house Karlach had set on fire.
Karlach’s flames flickered and dimmed, no longer an inferno but a faint glow. She was still breathing raggedly, but much calmer than before.
Ada turned to her, taking a step forward. “My name is Ada,” she said, her voice gentle despite the chaotic situation. “I’m… sorry for what just happened. Are you all right?”
The woman regarded her with a wary expression, but after a moment, she nodded. “Karlach. But I assume you already knew that.”
She glanced at Ada’s outstretched hand, then shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She gave Ada a toothy grin that did not quite reach her eyes. “I run hot.” She pounded her fist against her chest with a hollow thud.
Ada raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
Karlach explained, telling them about the infernal engine that burned in her chest—a dubious gift bestowed by Zariel herself. The engine powered her but also cursed her with constant heat, preventing her from touching others without burning them.
While she spoke, Shadowheart stepped up to them and regarded Karlach’s wounds. The half-elf raised a hand that shimmered with a faint golden light.
“May I?” she asked, looking up at Karlach. The tiefling seemed to understand and nodded at Shadowheart. With a precise movement of her hands and a murmured spell, she produced more of that golden light. It lay over Karlach’s wounds and seemed to sink into her skin like a balm.
Ada thought she heard the words ‘Skotia Despoina’ in Shadowheart’s incantation. A dark lady? Ada wondered. Was this a spell or a prayer?
Karlach sighed in relief and cautiously moved her torso and limbs, as if to check how far she had been healed. Then, she nodded towards the other woman with another wide grin. “Thanks, sister...”
“Shadowheart,” came the cool reply. “Just Shadowheart.”
And yet, there was a hint of a smile on her face when she said it, that Ada did not miss.
“We’re searching for a cure for the tadpoles,” Ada said to Karlach. “You’re welcome to join us. Maybe we can help each other.”
Karlach’s eyes lit up with hope, and she grinned. “I’d be delighted, soldier. Anything’s better than being hunted by devils or these assholes up there.”
She nodded up the hill. “Honestly, it’s nice to see a friendly face around here. Especially another tiefling.”
At that, Karlach winked at her conspiratorially, and Ada felt another wave of warmth in her chest towards the other woman.
As they started walking to follow the others, Karlach continued, “I will need to find someone who can tune up my engine sooner rather than later. There was talk of an infernal mechanic in the area. A smith and a tiefling, according to the paladins.”
“We might have found him already,” Ada said, remembering the handsome tiefling they saw in the hollow yesterday. “He’s at a druid’s grove not far from here.”
“Then, what are we waiting for?” Karlach laughed excitedly.
Ada proceeded to fill Karlach in on the situation at the grove and their objective to find the First Druid.
When they reached the burning remains of the toll house that had been the paladins’ lair, the woman stopped beside Ada. Looking at the ruined walls, Karlach’s arms were shaking with newly awakened fury.
They stood for a moment in silence. The flames around the building were getting smaller—not roaring now, but simmering. Karlach's chest rose and fell in a fast rhythm, rage building behind her clenched jaw.
“Fuck them,” she spat. “Fuck Zariel. I am not going back—not ever! Zariel’s gotta stop fucking with me, you know? I’m done with it. I’m done with her. I’m free. I’M FREE!”
Karlach threw her head back in maniacal laughter, flames licking up her body again. Astarion watched her with a raised eyebrow, and Gale seemed a little unnerved by the unhinged display.
Something fierce and aching flared in Ada as she watched Karlach burn—and laugh. She’d never been forced into a war, never had her heart cut out. Not literally, at least. But she knew what it was to be broken down by the people who were meant to guide you. To be made into a joke by your peers and to be told your pain was irrelevant.
And Ada knew the savage, guilty joy of surviving it. Of standing tall in spite of them.
I hope it really is over for you, Ada thought, looking at Karlach. I hope you can let go of the memories as well.
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