Prototype's Gate

As soon as Zeus uttered her name, the door to the room burst open, and Karlach strode in with her usual energetic flair, a wide grin plastered across her face.

"Hello, everyone!" she greeted them warmly, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. She walked confidently over to the table, dragging a chair with a casual strength before plopping down on it.

Wyll's concerned expression was hard to miss as he leaned forward. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes scanning her for any sign of discomfort.

"Amazing! This new heart feels absolutely amazing," Karlach replied with a broad smile, her words laced with excitement.

"New heart?" The others echoed in unison, their faces a mix of confusion and curiosity.

Karlach nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! My old mechanical heart melted, and I was on the verge of kicking the bucket. But Zeus here replaced it for me." She explained this casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and then pulled down her collar slightly to reveal the glowing red light emanating from her chest. The fiery glow was strikingly similar to that of her old heart, but somehow different—stronger, more stable.

Every eye in the room turned to Zeus, silently demanding further explanation. But Zeus remained silent, his featureless face ,unreadable . His refusal to speak only deepened their curiosity, and their gazes shifted back to Karlach, hoping she could shed more light on the situation.

"Don't look at me like that," Karlach said, raising her hands defensively. "All I remember is falling asleep, and when I woke up, I was in bed, good as new."

"And your flames?" Shadowheart inquired from her spot at the table, her voice carrying a note of both surprise and a tinge of playfulness. "They didn’t burn through it?"

Karlach shook her head with a confident smile. "Nope. I can control them now. Check this out!" She stood up, and within seconds, her entire body ignited in flames, blazing like a living torch. The fire danced around her, bright and intense, but without harming her or anyone else in the room. With a deep breath, Karlach closed her eyes and focused, and just as suddenly as they had appeared, the flames vanished, leaving her unscathed.

"That was incredible," Alfira said from the side, her voice tinged with awe.

"I know, right?" Karlach replied, her grin even wider now, clearly pleased with herself.

Zeus broke the moment of admiration with a serious tone. "Wyll and the rest have agreed to follow me deeper into the Shadow-Cursed Lands. We're going to try and find a way to kill General Ketheric Thorm. Do you think you can come with us?"

"Fuck yeah!" Karlach's response was immediate, her voice full of excitement and resolve.

"Can Alex come too? Or do your stomachs still hurt?" Wyll asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he recalled what Alex had mentioned earlier at the table.

Zeus turned his head towards Alex. For a brief moment, Alex had the disorienting sensation of seeing himself from two perspectives.

"He can come," Zeus finally said. "Then it's settled. Everyone, go, prepare your gear." His tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument.

As they began to rise from their seats, Karlach paused. "Shouldn't we ask Lae'zel if she wants to come? By the way, what happened to her? She looks really depressed."

Wyll, Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart all turned their gazes towards Zeus. The memory of him picking up his severed head and reattaching it as if it were a mere inconvenience was still fresh in their minds, a chilling reminder of his power.

"You should ask her," Zeus said, his tone final. "I'll wait here."

With that, everyone but Zeus, Mintahra, Ellyka, and Alfira left the room. The silence that followed was thick, almost uncomfortable. Zeus's featureless face turned towards the remaining trio, his presence suddenly feeling much more intense now that the others had left.

"You two have known each other for a long time?" Zeus asked, breaking the tension with his deep voice.

Ellyka hesitated, glancing at Alfira before responding. "We’ve known each other since childhood. But what about you? It seems everyone here either respects you or fears you—or both."

Zeus’s voice was calm, almost indifferent. "People tend to respect or fear those stronger than themselves. But it's not my intention to instill those emotions. They are simply the natural reactions to witnessing my capabilities."

Ellyka nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I’d be scared too if I knew the person in front of me could kill me before I even blinked. Thanks for saving me, by the way."

Zeus remained silent.

"I asked Wyll," Ellyka continued, filling the silence. "He told me Bullet is your pet. So I figured you must have ordered him to save me. Without him and you, I would’ve been dead already."

Zeus acknowledged her words with a simple nod. "I try to help when I can."

Ellyka’s eyes lit up with determination. "I want to help too. Can I come with you?"

Alfira’s gaze snapped to Ellyka, concern evident in her eyes.

"Has your wounds healed?" Zeus asked, his tone measuring.

"Mostly," Ellyka replied, her voice filled with confidence.

"I think it would be wise for you to remain at the inn," Zeus said, his voice firm.

Ellyka’s voice quivered with a mix of frustration and desperation as she stood up abruptly, her gaze never leaving Zeus. "I can help!" she argued, her fists clenched at her sides.

Minthara, who had been quietly observing the conversation from Zeus's side, shot Ellyka a scornful look, her disdain barely concealed. "Ellyka, please calm down," Alfira urged gently, trying to soothe her friend’s rising emotions.

Zeus remained silent, his featureless face giving nothing away, but his presence was commanding as he sat up straighter, fixing his gaze on Ellyka. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response. "I can contribute," Ellyka added, her voice softer now, almost pleading, as if she was speaking to something deep within him that she hoped would understand.

Zeus regarded her for a long, measured moment. Finally, he sighed, the sound unexpectedly human, laced with a weariness that suggested he had seen too much of the world and its cruelties. "It’s not about strength or capability, Ellyka," he began, his voice low but carrying the weight of his words. "The Shadow-Cursed Lands are dangerous, more than you can imagine. What you’ve seen so far pales in comparison to what lies ahead. You’re not ready for that. Not yet."

Ellyka’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but she refused to sit down. Her eyes flicked to Alfira, who offered her a small, sympathetic smile. "You can still help by being here," Alfira said gently. "Everyone help matters, to protect this place, to keep everyone safe if things go wrong."

"But—" Ellyka began, but Alfira quickly cut her off.

"Think about it," Alfira continued, her voice firm but kind. "The people here need someone to protect them. Someone who can fight, someone who understands the dangers. You can be that person, Ellyka."

Ellyka hesitated, her anger slowly giving way to understanding as she considered Alfira’s words. She nodded slowly, though the frustration still flickered in her eyes. "I hate feeling useless," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Zeus’s tone softened, a rare gentleness in his usually commanding demeanor. "You’re not useless," he said, his voice holding a trace of empathy that surprised even him. "You’re valuable here. Sometimes, the hardest battles are fought at home, away from the front lines."

Ellyka stared at his featureless face, searching for something—an answer, a reason, anything. And she found it—understanding, empathy, buried deep within his voice. "Okay," she finally said, her voice steadier, resigned. "I’ll stay. But promise me one thing."

Zeus inclined his head slightly, a signal for her to continue.

"Promise me you’ll all come back," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Don’t let this be the last time we talk."

Zeus nodded solemnly, his vow carrying a heavy sense of responsibility. "I promise we’ll do everything in our power to return," he said, his voice like a solid, unbreakable oath.

Ellyka finally sank into her chair, her earlier defiance replaced by a quiet acceptance. Alfira reached out and squeezed her hand, offering silent support as the others began to gather their gear.

The room settled into silence once again .

One by one everyone gathered at the table : Wyll , Gale , Astarion , Shadowheart , Karlach and Shadowheart.

Zeus’s gaze shifted to Lae'zel, who stood near the doorway. She met his gaze briefly, her eyes filled with turmoil before she quickly looked away, her usual fierce confidence seeming diminished.

Zeus rose from his seat, his movements deliberate and calm, and made his way out of the inn followed closed by the rest . As he stepped into the open air, heading toward the stone bridge that would lead them into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, he was stopped by someone unexpected—a young girl, the same one who had pleaded with Jaheira not to kill him.

The girl approached him, clutching something tightly in her small hands. She was a waif of a child, no older than ten, with wide, frightened eyes that held a spark of hope. Her hair was a tangled mess of dark curls, framing a dirt-smudged face that spoke of hardship and loss. Her clothes were ragged, too large for her slight frame, likely hand-me-downs from someone older. Despite her appearance, there was a resilience in her that struck Zeus deeply.

She skidded to a stop before him, breathing hard from her sprint. Zeus knelt down, bringing himself to her level, and she hesitantly extended her hands, revealing a small, ragged doll. The doll had seen better days—its once vibrant fabric was now faded and frayed, and one of its button eyes was missing, giving it a slightly lopsided, forlorn appearance.

Zeus took the doll from her gently, his large hands dwarfing the delicate, worn toy. The girl gazed up at him with a mix of admiration and fear, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Without a word, she turned and ran back toward from where she came , leaving Zeus holding the doll as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

He stood slowly, aware of the eyes on him—his companions, the Harpers, even the people he had saved were watching him closely, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness. Zeus said nothing, simply turning back toward the stone bridge with the doll clutched carefully in his hand.

As they crossed the silvery dome that marked the boundary into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, the group immediately felt the oppressive weight of the curse trying to seep into their bodies, clawing at their souls. Zeus raised his hand over his head, ready to cast a protective spell, but his attention was drawn to Shadowheart, who had taken a few steps back, remaining outside the spell’s range.

"I don’t need it," she said coolly, her voice tinged with defiance.

The golden light of Zeus’s spell enveloped the others, a warm shield against the curse. "You can come closer now. I will throw pixie dust all over us , it will protect us when the curse gets stronger, " Zeus said, his tone calm but commanding.

Shadowheart stood her ground, her expression stubborn. "Are you deaf? I said I don’t need it. My Lady protects me from the curse."

A palpable tension filled the air as a wave of fear swept over the group, emanating from Zeus himself. It was a cold, unyielding force, a reminder of the power he wielded. "I hope you don’t have the same attitude when we need to fight," Zeus said, his voice deceptively calm, a quiet warning woven into his words.

Shadowheart held his gaze for a moment, then silently stepped back, the distance between them remaining. The rest of the group exchanged uneasy glances, the unspoken tension heavy among them, before they refocused on the path ahead.

Zeus paused for a moment, turning to Wyll with an unspoken understanding in his gaze. He reached into his hand and extended the doll the little girl had given him. "Take care of it," he said, his voice carrying a subtle weight. Wyll, though initially surprised, took the worn, ragged doll and carefully tucked it into his new robe, a gift from Alfira.

As Wyll secured the doll, Alex brought forth the handkerchief that had belonged to Rolan, holding it gently in his hand. With a concentrated effort, he focused on it. The fabric began to glow with a soft, ethereal purple light, gently floating in his palm as if it were alive, infused with an energy that was both mysterious and powerful.

Gale, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t contain his curiosity. "What’s that spell? I’ve never seen anything like it. You didn’t utter any incantation, yet you’ve somehow infused the handkerchief with energy," he asked, his voice filled with intrigue.

Zeus turned his featureless face towards Gale, his voice calm as he explained. "It’s psionic energy. The spell uses traces of mental energy left by the owner to guide me to them."

Wyll, who had been standing off to the side, seemed to grow more thoughtful, his expression shifting from curiosity to contemplation. "Are you familiar with psionics?" he asked, a note of respect in his voice. Ever since unlocking the power of his tadpole, Wyll had been hesitant to delve into such abilities, even in dire situations.

Zeus’s response was brief but revealing. "A bit," he replied, leaving the depth of his knowledge a mystery. Wyll didn’t press further, instead seeming lost in his own thoughts.

"Follow me," Zeus ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation as he began to walk, leading the group southwest, parallel to the river. They moved with purpose, passing by familiar landmarks. The hut where Alex had fought the shadow-cursed ghast and its hound came into view, the charred remains of the bodies still scattered around .

They continued on, passing a ruined building filled with shattered pottery. Some of the group cast wary glances at the eviscerated meazels lying nearby, their eyes instinctively turning to Zeus. They knew all too well that he was the one who had slain the creatures, his power evident in the aftermath of the battle.

As they pressed on, they walked through what had once been a battlefield, now a desolate wasteland of broken weapons and bones . The bridge loomed ahead, guarded by the same three cultist adepts Alex had encountered before. They barely had time to react as obsidian spikes erupted from the ground beneath them, impaling them with deadly precision and ending their lives in an instant.

Before anyone could fully comprehend what had happened, tendrils of flesh emerged from Zeus’s back, wrapping around the fallen adepts and consuming them in the blink of an eye. The sight was horrifying, and the group recoiled in disgust, their stomachs churning at the gruesome display. An uneasy silence fell over them.

"That’s disgusting," Shadowheart muttered from the side, her voice filled with revulsion. She had spoken for all of them, except Minthara, who watched Zeus with a look of astonishment. The ease with which he had killed the cultists seemed to impress her, though she kept her thoughts to herself.

Suddenly, they heard a shout from somewhere to the left, the voice filled with panic and desperation. Zeus’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the sound, his senses attuned to the faint traces of a familiar mind. "That must be Rolan," he said, already feeling the connection to the man’s mind, his psionic energy guiding him.

Without another word, everyone rushed towards the source of the cry . They sprinted down a steep, ruined road. As they neared the end, they could see Rolan in the distance, surrounded by three looming shadows that were slowly inching toward him, their forms dark and menacing.

The scene was one of desperation and terror. Rolan, armed with only a silvery staff, fought valiantly, but he was clearly outmatched. His breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping down his brow as he swung his weapon with growing fatigue. The shadows circled him like predators closing in on their prey, their eyes glowing with a sinister light.