The world dissolved around me as I stepped through the portal, and the experience was… unexpectedly smooth. One moment, I was drowning in the riotous, overwhelming color and scent of the Feywild. The next? I was in blessed, reality, though tinged now with the lingering memories and echoes of that vibrant otherworld.

  We emerged out onto the rocky soil of a riverside cliff, my lucky fishing hat in the perfect position to give me some shade for the coming sunrise. The ground felt real and boring beneath my feet, a welcome change from the springy, almost sentient earth of the Feywild. The air, no longer thick with magic, felt clean and… ordinary in my lungs. The sky -- a pale, washed-out blue compared to the vibrant, luminous hues of the Fey realm -- stretched above me, vast, and, almost painfully, mundane. Gone were the alien geometries of the enchanted woods, the twisted space, the gravity-defying paths and the sense of being perpetually observed by unseen eyes. Here, the land lay flat and reassuring, a tapestry of green and brown stretching towards the horizon, a familiar, beloved vista.

  What you saw was what you got.

  Thinking back, I realized that I might miss the Feywild a little – it was a stressful place, but hells if that Revel wasn’t , in the end!

  …

  Karlach was the first to break the silence. She threw her head back and let out a wild, joyous whoop, her tail whipping back and forth like a banner.

  “Free! Finally, free!” she bellowed, spinning in a circle with her arms flung wide. Her grin was blinding, her eyes alight with a happiness I hadn’t seen since I’d replaced her Infernal Engine. She bounded over to me, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder.

  “Harald, do you smell that? ! Gods, after that fey place, I thought I might never get to smell it again!”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s good to see you like this, Karlach.”

  “Damn right it is,” she laughed, giving me a playful shove before darting off to chase the wind along the cliff’s edge.

  Not everyone shared her exuberance.

  Lae’zel stepped forward, her boots crunching against the gravel as she fixed me with a stare sharp enough to cut steel. “The

  parasites,” she said, her voice low and insistent. “They remain. We must remove them, and my people can assist—if we can reach them.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing me. “Unless… have a solution, Harald? You seem… more than powerful enough to cure us.”

  She looked me in the eyes, almost daring me to deny her obvious conclusion. I met her gaze calmly, carefully weighing my words.

  “Of course, I… do have a plan,” I said carefully. “Several plans, in fact. But, it’ll take at least a few hours of experimentation to figure out if any of them will work.”

  Lae’zel tilted her head, considering, then gave a curt, respectful nod.

  “Very well. You have proven yourself capable, . I will await your word. But do not dawdle. Time is our enemy, and I… ”

  Having said her peace, she turned away, her posture rigid, already scanning the horizon as if plotting her next move.

  Behind her, Astarion sauntered up, his smirk firmly in place.

  “Oh, I hope you can control those things, Harald,” he said, his tone light but edged with something serious. “You see, while you were playing your little Encores, I had not one, but charming Fey Ladies offer to keep me with them in the Feywild, forever. They promised to handle my tadpole problem, too!” He flashed a grin, fangs glinting. “It was a little tempting, I’ll admit, but I’d rather be indebted to them for eternity.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you’d miss our fine company too much?”

  “Oh, hardly,” he scoffed, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

  Gale interjected with a thoughtful nod. “Lord Hyrsam could certainly manage the tadpole problem, if it came to that,” he mused. “But Astarion’s right—deals with the Fey usually come with strings attached. Let’s give Harald a chance first. We’ve all seen what he can do.”

  I nodded, grateful for the vote of confidence.

  “I’ll definitely figure it out, Gale, I promise. I’ll just need a little time to experiment.”

  Gale nodded sagely, no doubt remembering working on his own wizarding research projects.

  …

  While the others spoke, Shadowheart lingered at the cliff’s edge, her back to us. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, her dark hair whipping in the wind. She stared out at the river, her jaw clenched, but, every so often, her eyes – now of a pleasant, forest green color -- flicked toward me: brief, piercing glances that carried a weight I couldn’t quite place.

  Was it I saw simmering there, beneath the surface?

  Though she hadn’t said a word, I could vaguely feel that Shadowheart’s mind was… turbulent… through our tadpole-induced link. I wanted to approach her, to ask what was eating at her, even to reach directly into her thoughts… but the way she held herself now—distant, coiled—told me she wasn’t ready to talk.

  “Shadowheart?” I called softly, testing the waters.

  She didn’t turn, didn’t respond. Her shoulders merely stiffened a little at my voice, and that was answer enough. Whatever storm was brewing inside her now, I’d have to wait it out.

  Amid all of the tension, Sylvie was a burst of light. The newly-ascended Fey Lady still acted very much like her former pixie self. She was rapidly zipping around the cliff, her new wings – effortless projections of pure energy from her back – were a blur of iridescent colors.

  “Oh, wow! Look at that!” she shouted, pointing at a bird soaring overhead.

  She darted to a patch of wildflowers next, hovering over them with wide, gleaming eyes. “And ! Everything’s just… so

  here!”

  She spun in midair, giggling uncontrollably.

  “I’ve never been to the Material Plane before! It’s !”

  Karlach laughed, chasing after her.

  “Whoa, slow down there, missy! You’ll wear yourself out!”

  “Never!” Sylvie shot back, zooming around Karlach in circles, giggling all the while.

  As I watched the two of them play around together, the tension slowly drained from my shoulders, a knot of anxiety I hadn’t even realized was there finally loosening. My diamond-hard muscles, coiled tightly for what felt like an eternity, began to unclench. I scanned our surroundings, my gaze sweeping across the river-side cliffs, rolling hills, and the somewhat overgrown path that snaked its way towards the distant tree line.

  I had asked the Archfey to take us to the Sword Coast, over by the ruins of the Moonhaven village and the Druid Grove — to take Alfira back, perhaps have some with Ethel, and to give me the chance to... settle a few other things from Act 1.

  And, my new buddy Hyrsam was as good as his word — at long last, we were .

  The relief, however, was tempered by a gnawing uncertainty.

  Back in the Feywild, I had been focused on the immediate concerns: saving the captured Lae’zel and Shadowheart, dealing with the evolved Sylvie, replacing Karlach’s engine, then salvaging Alfira’s situation… navigating the Revel… the gifts… The whole experience was a little overwhelming; I simply hadn’t allowed myself to truly consider the state of the world we had left behind. Now, the possibilities crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave.

  Firstly, just how long have we been gone?

  Days?

  ?

  Time was a flexible concept when it came to the Fey, and, while I the ratio with the real world was at least close to 1 to 1 in this case due to the Bardic contest, I still couldn’t help but wonder.

  What if... it had been long enough for the worst to have happened?

  I pictured the Absolute winning.

  I pictured the Grove, the ancient trees twisted and blackened, their branches reaching in skeletal agony towards a smoke-choked sky.

  I imagined the Tiefling refugees – men, women, and even children -- slaughtered, their vibrant energy extinguished, their hopes and dreams drowned in a tide of vicious goblin bodies.

  Or… perhaps Kagha managed to complete the Rite of Thorns, sacrificing the Grove and the surrounding land to the Shadow Druids in the process?

  I had to know. I had to see for myself.

  “Sylvie, can you disguise yourself as a human please? We need to check something out, and Fey aren’t… exactly common around these parts. I don’t want to scare anyone.”

  Sylvie halted mid-flight, hovering with a tilt of her head. A mischievous sparkle danced in her eyes. “A human, Harald? Oh, how terribly ordinary! Couldn’t I be a instead? Or, at least, a majestic owl?” Her voice trilled with pixie-like glee.

  Wait… she turn into a Dragon? It struck me that I still didn’t know Sylvie’s limits and never bothered asking her what she could do… However, now wasn’t the best time for such experiments.

  I chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “Tempting as that sounds, we need to blend in. Humans won’t raise suspicion here.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, Sylvie’s wings drooped theatrically.

  “Very well, human it is. But don’t blame me if I’m rubbish at it—I’ve never been one before!”

  She descended gracefully, dismissing her projected wings in motes of iridescent light. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath, and the air around her began to shimmer like a mirage.

  The transformation unfurled with fey elegance. Her delicate skin warmed to a soft, peachy tone – still uncomfortably perfect in complexion, but far more human-like now. Her glowing silver-gold hair darkened and lengthened, becoming a cascade of rich chestnut waves that tumbled over her shoulders. Even the robe I made for her shifted, weaving itself into a deep green tunic and trousers, practical yet adorned with subtle, swirling embroidery that whispered of her true heritage.

  When she opened her eyes—now a striking emerald green—she blinked down at her new form, wiggling her limbs with delight.

  I stepped closer, inspecting her with a nod. “That’s incredible, Sylvie. You look entirely human. I’m sure no one will suspect a thing!”

  Astarion, ever the sly rogue, arched an eyebrow. “Quite the change, Darling. Though I’ll miss those fetching wings of yours—they had .”

  Sylvie giggled, spinning in a circle to flaunt her disguise. “Why, thank you!” She beamed at me, her human face alight with joy. “Are we ready now, Harald? Shall we go to explore the Material Plane together?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “We’ve hidden the Greater Fey of our group, but there’s still… Lae’zel to consider.”

  Lae’zel snapped her head toward me, her gaze sharp enough to cut. She didn’t seem to like where I was going with this.

  I spoke to her calmly, keeping my voice steady but firm.

  “Lae’zel, we’ll be nearing settled lands. Around here, people don’t know Githyanki from monsters in bedtime tales. Your looks might spook them—it could even spark a fight. I’d rather not waste energy slicing through every fool who panics.”

  “Let them try,” she shot back, defiance lacing every word. “I am . If they’re too weak to face me without trembling, I’ll carve that lesson into their flesh.”

  I gave a nod, acknowledging her fire. “I know you could handle it. But this isn’t about dodging trouble—it’s about being wise; about choosing our battles. There should be a Githyanki crèche a few days’ of travel from here, which I’d be happy to escort you to – however, I would rather have to brutally murder every passerby between here and there.”

  I paused, picking my next words like steps across a creaky bridge. “The Mask of Many Faces can change that. It can make you look human, or maybe an elf. Something nobody would bat an eye at.”

  Her face tightened, pride flaring in her eyes. “You would have me hide what I am? To wear a lie like some spineless coward?”

  “No,” I said, locking eyes with her, my tone solid. “I’m asking you to use every resource at your disposal -- like a hunter uses the shadows. Being wise doesn’t erase who you are, Lae’zel — it keeps your enemies off guard until you’re ready to end them.”

  She halted, boots digging into the dirt as she squared up to me. “My blood, my heritage—they are not some to be so easily discarded,” she said, her voice dropping low, taut with tension. “I am not ashamed of what I am. Githyanki do not bow to the fears of lesser creatures.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I could see Shadowheart rolling her eyes.

  I didn’t flinch, holding Lae’zel’s stare.

  “And I’m not asking you to . I’m asking you to be… flexible. You’re a warrior, Lae’zel—your honor’s in what you , not in what others . This mask hands us the upper hand, lets us choose our fights. That’s , not surrender.”

  A heavy silence settled, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the wind. Her jaw clenched, and I could almost see the gears turning in her mind—her pride duking it out with her cold, practical side. At last, she let out a sharp huff through her nose. “Tch. . Pass it here.”

  I tipped my head in a small, approving gesture. Reaching into my inventory, I pulled out the Mask of Many Faces—Verenestra’s prize, a beautiful piece with an almost audible magical hum.

  “Here. Just put it on, then think of the shape you want. Verenestra told me it should hold the new shape for as long as you’ve got it on you. If you want to dismiss it, just think of returning to your original self.”

  She snatched the artifact from my hand, her fingers tracing the delicate edges. With a grudging breath, she pressed it to her face. The air rippled around her, and her Githyanki edges melted away. Lae’zel’s skin warmed to a soft beige, the sharp lines of her body softened into more standard human curves, and her eyes dulled to a deep brown. Her armor, too, faded into a plain traveler’s cloak—nothing fancy, just functional.

  Lae’zel flexed her fingers, testing the change. “It feels… wrong,” she muttered, though that steel in her voice didn’t budge.

  “You look like you fit in,” I said, stepping back to size her up. “No one should look twice at you now.”

  Karlach spun around from up ahead, flashing a wide grin. “Well, hells, Lae’zel! That illusion really suits you -- you’re almost

  pretty!”

  Lae’zel’s new human eyes narrowed. “Watch it, tiefling. Provoke me, and I’ll show you the truth under this mask.”

  I nodded, waving us forward. “Now, let’s put on something a little less flashy for armor – perhaps some steel chainmail or light leather sets like Shadowheart’s – then, we can move out.”

  …

  The path wound through a copse of trees, the sunlight dappling through the leaves, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. The leaves rustled in a gentle breeze, their sound a familiar whisper that usually brought me peace, but today only heightened my anxiety. The air was filled with innocuous forest sounds: the chirping of mundane birds, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant lowing of some large forest animal.

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  Everything seemed normal. Ordinary.

  But was it, actually? Or was this merely the deceptive calm before the storm?

  …

  We walked for only a few minutes; and then -- the trees opened, and the pathway to the Grove lay before us.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat.

  Everything seemed... fine!

  The enormous wooden gate was to us. Beyond it, ancient trees stood tall and proud, their branches reaching towards the sky like gnarled, protective arms, their leaves a vibrant, healthy green. The glade was bathed in sunlight, the air filled with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth, the sweet fragrances of untouched nature.

  There was no smoke, no stench of death, no sign of any struggle or conflict of any kind.

  Relief, so profound it was almost painful, washed over me, leaving me trembling. I had been holding my breath, bracing myself for the apocalypse, for seeing the worst possible devastation, and... nothing bad had happened? The Grove stood there, calm as you please – a beacon of peace and serenity in the world.

  Then, I saw something near the entrance: a figure in motion.

  Even from this distance, I could see and assess her body language, the manic eagerness in her stride. She moved with a speed that seemed almost unnatural, her demeanor radiating a palpable energy. She was literally

  towards us, and her face... held an almost unsettling enthusiasm, like joy crossed with… hunger?

  As she drew closer, details sharpened. Kagha indeed made for a striking figure, tall and commanding, with the grace of a predator. Her wood-elf heritage was evident in her pointed ears and her lithe physique. Her auburn hair, usually braided and severe in the game, flowed freely behind her as she ran, catching the sunlight and glowing like copper.

  Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, drinking in the sight of our group like a traveler – lost, and dying of thirst -- would drink from a newly-discovered desert Oasis. Her gaze flickered over us, and a look of awe — almost reverence — crossed her face.

  Lae’zel, ever suspicious, narrowed her eyes, her hand moving subtly towards the hilt of her blade — that wasn’t actually there at the moment, for we didn’t bother to re-arm after our arrival from the Revel… and, I had yet to forge suitably deadly enchanted weapons for everyone.

  “By the Oak Father,” Kagha breathed, her voice ringing with a strange, eager intensity, a note of almost desperate longing in its depths.

  “You... you are touched by the Summer! I… can feel…”

  Her gaze locked onto my body, her expression intense. She reached out slowly towards my face, her hand trembling slightly, as if drawn in by an invisible force, then, she abruptly pulled back, perhaps remembering herself.

  “F-forgive me! It’s just that… the Green Lord’s presence… all of your blessings…” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with a strange mixture of awe and longing. “To my druidic senses, looking at all of you feels like staring into a group of Suns and Stars, walking together towards our humble enclave. I simply to come out here and greet you myself!”

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

  I… suppose that answered my earlier musings about whether Titania and Oberon’s blessings could be detected by others. Kagha, for one, could not only feel them, but even seemed eager to… in our presence. Her eyes shone with an almost feverish intensity, and I saw a visible

  creep up her neck.

  “Such profound power… it is a sign! A true sign! The very air around you hums with nature’s will!” She shook her head, a manic grin spreading across her face, a look that bordered on obsession.

  Astarion shifted beside me, his pale face an interesting mix of amusement and thinly veiled disgust.

  “Well, this is certainly a new experience,” he drawled, his voice a silken murmur that carried surprisingly well in the charged atmosphere. “Usually, the one who makes people feel like they’re about to be eaten.”

  He gave Kagha a sidelong glance, his red eyes gleaming with sardonic humor. “Though, I suppose I can’t blame her. We quite the catch, aren’t we, Darling?”

  I shot Astarion a warning look, but, before I could say anything, Kagha turned her attention back to us, her expression softening slightly, though the intense curiosity remained.

  “Please forgive my… enthusiasm,” she said, taking a deep breath and composing herself with an effort that was almost visible.

  “I am Kagha, Second Druid of this Grove.” She inclined her head in a gesture that was both regal and welcoming, her gaze sweeping over us once more, lingering on each of us in turn.

  “Please enter, and be welcome!”

  I hesitated for a moment — Kagha acting this way seemed quite out of character for her — but, that was precisely the reason why I to find out what was different from the game. Investigating the Grove was the obvious start.

  “Thank you, Kagha,” I said, stepping forward. “We are grateful for your hospitality. Please, allow me to introduce our group. This is…”

  …

  As we slowly made our way inside the walls, Kagha was only all too eager to listen – and to answer my own questions in turn:

  -- “Tieflings?” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “Indeed, a group passed through here, on their way to Baldur’s Gate. They encountered no trouble, and moved on after several days.”

  -- “Goblins, you say? There are always a few of them around here and there, the pests that they are, but we’ve encountered no organized patrols around these parts — certainly nothing close to a full-blown of them, praise be to the Oak Father!”

  -- “Drow? Out of the Underdark? Surely you must be joking, Mr. Harald. What would the Drow possibly want with us?”

  -- “Githyanki!?! Here? My word, I’ve never even seen one of

  before in my life! That’s even more unbelievable than your Drow sighting story. And, you say there may be whole squads of them about? I don’t see why there would be — we are but humble servants of nature, far from any populated settlements. We have nothing worth taking in a raid!”

  -- “The Blade of, you say? Isn’t that some kind of folk hero that goes around fighting bandits and rescuing people all along the Sword Coast? I may have heard of him somewhere, but can’t say that I’ve ever seen or met him in person… Shame, that – we rarely get visitors here, and he sounds like someone interesting to talk to!”

  …

  …

  “And… what of Halsin?” I asked, my voice hoarse, the word catching slightly in my throat.

  “Halsin?” she echoed, a strange note in her voice.

  Then, her expression cleared, and a look of almost childlike eagerness replaced the intensity.

  “Oh, of , you must know Halsin! Why else would someone like be visiting if not to visit him? Yes, I’ll take you right to him! He will be most eager to see you all, I’m sure!”

  “Wait… Halsin’s ?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, though a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. “At the Grove? Right now?”

  “But, of course!” Kagha replied, her tone matter-of-fact, as if there was no other possibility. “Where else would he be? He is the First Druid of this Grove, after all!”

  The implications of her words hit me like a physical blow. If Halsin was here… if he hadn’t been captured by the goblins… then there was no telling what else had been changed! Everything I thought I knew about the “proper” timeline of events had been irrevocably altered. Did the point of divergence begin with the Nautiloid’s crash location? that? Was this even the same Universe to the game’s to begin with?

  The more I tried to analyze the situation logically, the more worried I became by the implications. Was my game knowledge useful to me now, or rather, did it become a liability? Was there even a goblin army currently holed up at the ruined Selunite temple — or, did the Elder Brain re-assign those resources after it detected that the Astral Sphere, the “weapon” capable of disrupting its communications, moved out of range? … What would the enemy do when it detected the field of that disruption within range once again? And… what happened to Wyll? To Minthara? I had questions! It felt like I knew enough to be dangerous — and it wasn’t a great feeling at all. For now, I had to speak with Halsin, as soon as possible.

  The trail leading to the heart of the Grove was quite a bit longer – and far more beautiful and complex – than it was portrayed in the game. We twisted through a veritable verdant labyrinth, its edges blurred by sprawling ferns and clusters of tiny white blossoms that trembled in the breeze. The air hummed with life—a chorus of birds trilled from the treetops, their notes sharp and fleeting, while the low, throaty croak of an occasional frog echoed from some hidden puddle. Leaves rustled overhead, stirred by the scampering of squirrels, their claws scrabbling against bark as they darted between branches. Somewhere deeper in the undergrowth, a deer’s hooves snapped a twig, the sound crisp against the soft drone of insects weaving through the foliage. The scent of moss and rich, loamy soil hung heavy, laced with the faint tang of woodsmoke drifting from unseen hearths.

  I walked at the head of the group, the lucky fishing hat still sitting comfortably upon my head, my enchanted leather boots leaving faint impressions in the damp earth. Behind me, the group moved in a ragged line. Karlach’s heavy tread was softer now, her eyes wide as she drank in the Grove’s splendor, her tail flicking with quiet delight. Sylvie walked beside her, pausing to peer at a ladybug crawling along a leaf, her face lighting up with every new sight and sound. Lae’zel prowled at the rear, her posture rigid, twitching at every chirp and rustle, her hand reflexively hovering near a blade she didn’t currently carry. Astarion followed with his usual languid grace, though his sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity beneath his practiced disdain. And Shadowheart—she lagged behind, her arms lowered against her sides, her hands balled into fists, her steps dragging as if each one cost her something precious. Her dark hair hung in her face, a curtain she didn’t bother to part, and her silence was a weight that pressed against me palpably.

  As we navigated the winding path, the Grove’s lively sounds began to sharpen into something more—, threading through the rustling leaves and chirping melodies. Our newfound ability to speak with animals, a parting gift from Oberon, brought the forest’s inhabitants into focus. The creatures of the woods weren’t just background noise to us -- not anymore. We could now understand them all -- any time we wished!

  A squirrel poked its head out from behind a thick oak trunk. Its bushy tail twitched nervously, and its voice came in a rapid, chittering burst.

  “”

  Karlach chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender. “No acorns on our menu, little friend. Your stash is safe from us.”

  The squirrel’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “” It scampered higher up the tree, muttering under its breath about “” as it disappeared into the leaves.

  The animals’ conversations wove themselves into the tapestry of the journey, each voice adding depth and context to the surroundings. True, the animals didn’t usually have much of to say, but I couldn’t deny that being able to understand them was an amazing experience!

  Then, Kagha slowed, pointing out a fork in the trail.

  “Halsin’s near,” she called over her shoulder, her voice trembling with barely contained excitement. “He’ll be at the sacred pool—it’s at the Grove’s heart. Come!”

  The trail widened into a clearing, and there he stood—Halsin, the First Druid himself. Standing at 6’7, he was an absolute of an Elf, broad-shouldered and towering. His hair fell in a thick, unruly cascade of brown, framing a deceptively youthful face. His eyes, deep and steady, carried the weight of centuries, and his presence was a quiet force, as rooted as the oaks that encircled the space. At his side, a small fox nosed at the grass, its tail flicking, while a raven perched on a low branch nearby, tilting its head to watch us approach. A wild boar and a couple brown bears also lounged around the area – though, whether these were true animals or wild-shaped druids, I didn’t know.

  The sacred pool itself – very clearly a pool, unlike in the game – shimmered behind Halsin, its waters a mirror of blue and green, fed by a trickle of a stream that wound through the roots of a massive, moss-covered tree. An idol of Sylvanus stood on a short stone platform in the middle, projecting an aura that resonated pleasantly to my senses.

  Kagha surged forward, her hands clasped together as if she could barely contain herself. “First Druid!” she cried, her voice ringing through the clearing. “They’re here—!”

  Her eyes shone with fervor, her gestures wild as she waved toward us.

  Halsin turned to Kagha, his gaze settling on us with a calm, appraising weight. One thick eyebrow lifted—a real, tangible arch that creased his forehead—his lips twitching faintly at his student’s outburst.

  “So I see,” he said, his voice a low rumble, warm and resonant like the creak of living wood. “You’ve brought in quite the procession, Kagha.” His tone was gentle, indulgent even, and it was clear he understood her excitement—though perhaps he found it a touch theatrical.

  Kagha flushed, bowing her head. “They’re extraordinary. I felt their presence the moment they neared the Grove’s threshold.”

  Halsin’s eyes slid to Sylvie, then me, then across the entire group, lingering on each of us in turn.

  “Extraordinary indeed,” he murmured. “Blessings from the Green Lord himself are no small thing. I can the Summer’s touch upon you, friends.” He stepped closer, his boots sinking into the moss, the fox trailing at his heels.

  “But I confess, I am puzzled. Why would such an illustrious group—blessed by the Lord of Beasts himself—seek out a humble Grove like ours? We have little of value; after all, we are but a speck in the wilderness, far from the grand paths of the world. There’s nothing of note here for ones such as yourselves.”

  I met his gaze, my mind racing for an answer that balanced truth and caution.

  “We are… travelers,” I said at last. “Our road has been long, and it’s led us here. I’ve heard whispers—troubles stirring, shadows moving across the land. We thought you might know something of it.”

  Halsin’s brow furrowed, a shadow passing over his face.

  “The land does murmur of unrest,” he admitted. “I’ve felt it in the roots, heard it in the wind. But come—let’s not stand on ceremony. You’re all welcome here, friends.” He gestured toward the pool, its surface rippling faintly as a leaf drifted across it.

  “Please sit. Rest. And let us speak more.”

  As we settled down near the water’s edge, Halsin’s attention shifted. His gaze fell on Shadowheart, who stood apart, her back stiff, her eyes locked on the ground. Something softened in his expression—a spark of intrigue, perhaps, or admiration. He approached her slowly, his massive frame casting a shadow across her smaller one.

  “You are an interesting one.” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, coaxing timbre. “I can sense a strength in you, a fire that burns even beneath such stillness. It’s a rare thing—and striking.” His lips curved into a faint, playful smile, his eyes tracing her form with a subtle, flirtatious glint. Normally, Shadowheart would have eaten it up—Halsin was her type to a fault: tall, powerful, with muscles that could wrestle a bear and win. In another setting, she’d have tossed her hair, flashed a coy grin, maybe even leaned into his orbit with a quip of her own.

  But not now.

  Her head didn’t lift. Her shoulders didn’t soften. She stared past Halsin, through him, her jaw clenched so tight the muscles twitched. The compliment was ignored entirely. After a beat, Halsin’s smile faltered, his brow knitting with quiet concern. He glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes, but I shook my head. Not now.

  Sylvie broke the tension, hopping onto a smooth stone by the pool. “This place is so much fun!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I can hear the forest sing!”

  Halsin chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Indeed it does sing, in its way,” he said, turning to her. “This Grove is alive, a haven where nature’s voice is strong.”

  His gaze returned to me, sobering. “But, I sense you have things to say. Come, then. Let us reason together.”

  Our subsequent conversation was… illuminating.

  …

  I suppose it all made perfect sense, in retrospect. Without the Nautiloid’s wreck to paint a huge nearby target for the goblins, and with the Astral Sphere well out of Minthara’s reach, none of the goblin leaders would have had a reason to search the entire area with a fine-tooth comb. Without the increase in local Absolutist cultist activity, it was possible that Minthara would never even have sent that True Soul Drow scout to look for the Grove… or, perhaps that particular scout simply never got caught in this timeline? Without encountering the Drow True Soul, Halsin would never have tried to dissect his body, and would not have become particularly interested in researching the altered mind-flayer parasites. He would never have had any reason to leave the Grove, to go out scouting for himself… and, of course, he would never have gotten captured by the goblins as a result.

  Still, even though things unfolded differently from the game, I tried to point Halsin – in a subtle way – towards considering the dangers he may yet face from the cult of the Absolute.

  His expression was thoughtful, his brow furrowed as he weighed my words.

  “Mind Flayers,” he said at last, his voice deep and measured, “are not exactly , even in the shadowed depths of the Underdark. And, as far as I’ve learned, those cursed with their parasites turn swiftly—in mere days, not weeks. This… Absolute cult you speak of is indeed troubling, but I’ll not leap to any conclusions just yet.”

  He crossed his arms, the leather of his bracers creaking faintly.

  “Still, I’ll look into it. In the meantime, you and your companions are welcome to stay here in the Grove. Rest, recover. A few days under these boughs might well do you good.”

  I exhaled, a tension I hadn’t realized I was holding slipping away.

  “We appreciate that, Halsin. Truly.”

  He nodded, a faint warmth softening his stern features.

  “The Grove shelters all who come here in peace. Kagha here will see you settled.”

  He gestured to the slender figure lingering nearby, her sharp eyes fixed on us—on me—with an intensity that bordered on unsettling.

  Kagha practically bounded forward, her bare feet silent on the earth, her auburn hair bouncing with each step. “It would be my absolute pleasure!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and brimming with passion as she lead us away.

  …

  As we walked together for awhile, it became obvious that Kagha was nearly bursting at the seams with questions. I decided to stop torturing her with the silence.

  “You have questions, Kagha? Please, ask them. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  She clasped her hands together, her gaze locked on me like I was some rare artifact unearthed from the soil. “I overheard you talking to Halsin—did you meet Oberon and Titania? In the ? Please, you have to tell me -- what were they like? Did you see their Court?”

  She edged closer to me, her enthusiasm radiating off her in waves, and I swear I caught a glint in her eye that made me wonder if she was about to tackle me then and there.

  I took a half-step sideways, raising a hand to slow her barrage.

  “It’s… a long story,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “They were impressive, sure. But the Feywild’s not all parties and glamour—it’s got teeth, Kagha. We might have had to remain behind in the Summer Court’s service, but for certain… special skills.”

  Her grin only widened, completely undaunted.

  “Oh, I it! Dangerous and beautiful, just like the tales!” She rocked on her heels, barely containing herself.

  “I’ve got the perfect spot for you all—high ground by the river. You’ll it. Come on!” Without waiting for a reply, she proceeded up the trail, beckoning me to follow with an eager wave.

  The group trailed after us, weaving through the Grove’s winding paths. Kagha led us to the rising cliffs overlooking the river, where the land dipped gently toward the water’s edge. The view truly was stunning: the river glittered like molten glass under the early afternoon sun, flanked by rolling hills cloaked in green. There was more than enough room to spread out.

  “Here!” Kagha announced, spreading her arms wide. “The best spot near the Grove. Private, but close enough to… … if you’d like. And—” She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe tonight, by the fire, you’ll share a story about the Feywild with me? Please?”

  I managed a tight smile, dodging the full force of her eagerness.

  “We’ll see,” I said, keeping things vague. “Thanks for showing us around, Kagha.”

  She beamed, lingering for a moment longer before reluctantly stepping back.

  “I’ll leave you to settle in, then. But… I’ll be around, if you need anything!”

  With a final, hopeful glance, she slowly turned ready to head back down the path.

  Gale found a seat on a nearby log, pulling a book from his pack. “A fine spot to catch up on some reading,” he mused. “The ambiance is quite inspiring.”

  Shadowheart lingered at the cliff’s edge, her arms crossed, staring out at the water with a frown. I couldn’t read her, but the tightness in her posture spoke volumes. I let her be for now—we all needed space to breathe sometimes.

  As I began thinking about camp layout, a stray thought nagged at me. I glanced back at Kagha, who was just getting ready to leave.

  “Hey, Kagha,” I called. “There’s no chance of Harpies around here, right? I’ve heard they nest along rivers sometimes, singing fishermen to their doom and such?”

  She stopped short, looking at me as if trying to digest my question -- then burst into outright laughter—a bright, incredulous sound that echoed through the trees.

  “Harpies? ?” She wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. “Oh, Harald, that’s… Why would we ever let a nest of

  wretched things linger nearby? They’d just prey on the fishermen, harass our initiates—honestly, how absurd! Why, if any were ever here, we’d have driven them all out ages ago!” She shook her head, grinning like I’d told the best joke she’d heard all year.

  “You all are perfectly safe here, I promise.”

  I forced a chuckle, scratching the back of my neck. “Right. Just… checking.”

  She winked at me, then waved as she departed. “Rest well!”

  Kagha’s laughter lingered in my mind as I watched her go.

  …

  No harpy nests.

  Of not.

  In the game, they’d been a fun diversion—an early quest to test the player’s mettle.

  But here, in this living, breathing world, the druids would never tolerate such dangers so close to home. It hit me then, sharp and clear: game logic didn’t always hold up in reality. The Grove here wasn’t just a cool setting for scripted encounters—it was a very real place, with people, governed by its own rules.

  The plan for going forward was far from clear. My BG3 knowledge, once a guide, was starting to feel like a faulty map, more likely to lead me into trouble than show the way to the promised land.

  And yet, despite these challenges, I still managed a smile: after all, I was a Gamer with phenomenal magic powers and a brand new world to explore.

  …

  I’ve got this.

  I'm taking a break for a couple of weeks; need to sort out an illness

  and won't have time to write. I'll be back sometime mid-April. Probably.