They traveled north, and Hope kept close to Astarion.
It wasn't something she necessarily intended to do, more so a natural instinct. She didn't need someone else to make her feel safe and protected. And yet walking by his side, knowing he was there, eased the troubles of her mind a little.
Maybe it was partially for her sake, but also for his. The innate desire to keep him safe was strong—stronger than she could have anticipated. Whatever that meant, she didn't even want to touch on.
She couldn't.
Hope breathed in the scent of flowers and trees, embracing the mid-morning sun. The animals were scurrying now, across the road and up the trees. How long had it been since she appreciated nature for what it was? Wild and free. For so long, she'd been alone in that little camper in the woods. She ignored the voicemails, the letters, and the visits.
It was entirely likely…no one was even looking for her.
"You seem to have a lot on your mind," Gale said as he slowed his pace to walk with her on the other side.
Hope glanced at him and forced a small smile, "Don't we all?"
"Yes, I suppose so," he chuckled softly, but it faltered, "Just know, if you would like to discuss anything…I'm always happy to listen."
"I'll keep that in mind." She said, though she was thinking… Not going to happen. Her past trials were her own, not anyone else's to bear. It was her punishment to herself; she'd gotten exactly what she wanted in that other life, and now she was to deal with the consequences. As lonely as they may be.
Something hovered in the air, not something she could see, but a scent. It burned her nostrils and settled on her tongue: Ash. Hope stopped in her steps, and Astarion and Gale did, too, glancing at her with furrowed brows.
"Do you smell that?" She asked. "It smells like something's burning…"
Halsin frowned and raised his head, looking beyond the tree line past the road's bend, "I don't just smell it," he swallowed harshly, "I see it." He pointed and said, "Look, smoke. It's coming from Waukeen's Rest."
"Is that a settlement?" She asked, and he nodded.
"We need to get there, quickly. People might be in danger."
As a group, they started a light jog, with Halsin leading at his powerful pace. The closer they got, the hazier the air became. Then they could see it…Waukeen's Rest was on fire. From what Hope could tell, it didn't look like it had been set by natural causes.
They stopped short of a soldier at the gate, and Halsin leaned down urgently. "What's happened here?"
"Goblins," she responded, though she didn't raise her eyes from her fallen companion, "please, leave me be…" She murmured before returning to a quiet prayer as Halsin slowly stood.
Frowning, Hope looked around at the people rushing back and forth from the well. They filled their pails with water to douse the heat. Some areas were smoking embers, while others still roared with rising flames. At the front door of the Inn, she watched a group of soldiers as they tried to smash their way in. Following Halsin, they gathered, but Hope paused and listened intently. Someone cried out for help from inside, but the door wouldn't budge.
"Allow me," Halsin said. Stepping forward, he raised his leg and kicked through the center, rendering the door to pieces before stepping through.
Hope began to follow just as Lae'zel stepped in front of her.
"You will cause more harm than good here. We'll handle survivors, you help bring water from the well."
Hope blinked, staring at her, but the others had already made their way up the stairs. They either didn't know what Lae'zel was doing or they didn't care. But how could she argue? She had to comply, or her ruse would be forfeit.
Grinding her teeth, she stepped back outside and watched Lae'zel disappear into the smoke, and up the, she assumed, stairs. Sighing, Hope quickly retreated to the well and snatched a bucket. If only she could use her magic, she'd be able to take the flames away completely.
Why did it have to be so complicated?
Painstakingly, she filled bucket after bucket, taking them to new areas and sloshing over the area in a steaming sizzle. She coated the dry parts, even if it hadn't spread yet, and hauled them until her muscles ached in protest. While she did this, she kept an eye on the door, watching for them to return. She couldn't help but worry, but that concern lasted only a few minutes as they soon emerged. They were covered in ash and soot but otherwise appeared unscathed.
Just as she started to approach them, she paused. She could hear it…that cry again. Someone was calling out for help, but help had already left the building.
"Hope?" Gale frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Someone's still in there…" She said, starting for the door, but Astarion swooped his arm around her waist and hauled her back just as a ball of fire exploded from the building, shattering another set of windows.
"Whoever it is, can't be helped. Going in there will only get you killed."
"All I did was haul water," she snapped at him.
Shadowheart frowned, "We cannot all be soldiers, Hope. You did what you could. That's what was needed."
"There is no one else inside," Lae'zel hissed, "I saw to it myself, and if there were…should they not survive, they were unfit to live to begin with."
Fire leapt from all windows now, licking up to the roof, and consuming the entire building. A cracking sound, followed by one last hollow scream from somewhere upstairs, and the entire upper floor collapsed. The screaming inside stopped, and Hope leaned back against Astarion, who remained firm behind her as she listened for the voice she'd no longer hear.
Damn.
Jaw tight, she caught Gale's eye, and she could see it within him. Understanding, yes, but something else. He knew she wanted to help, knew she could, and yet she didn't. Yes, there was another emotion behind those eyes: judgment.
Someone was dead, Hope could have prevented it, and the only people who knew were her and Gale. He walked ahead of her now, not even glancing over his shoulder at her as he occasionally did.
While she often helped others where she could, she ultimately sang the same song. If she had to choose between herself and another, she would choose herself every time.
It wasn't selfish; it was survival.
She could smell the lingering smoke on Astarion's skin, hair, and clothes as they approached the Mountain Pass, but in a flourish of smoke, a figure suddenly stood before her. Tall and broad, his dark hair was slicked back, complementing his angular visage. Everyone stopped, and Hope glanced at Astarion questioningly, but he was stiff as a board, staring ahead with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
He grinned as his eyes shifted with sly cunning. "My, my, what manner of place is this? A path to redemption, or a road to damnation? Hard to say, for your journey is just beginning."
"Devil," Astarion sneered in return.
"What would suit the occasion? The words to a lullaby, perhaps? The mouse smiled brightly: it outfoxed the cat! Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that. They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don't they? Well met. I am Raphael. Very much at your service," his wicked eyes flicked to meet Hopes, "It's not every day one meets such a cavalier sinner as yourself. A true, bloody pleasure."
Hope swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. A devil? He looked at her as if he knew her—did he?
"Shall we withdraw? We have much to discuss... to our mutual satisfaction."
Gale frowned, "I highly doubt we have much in common." He took a careful step backward, inching closer to her. Hope realized then, despite how upset he was with her, he still moved to shield her. Had he noticed the way Raphael stared at her, too? She could feel it now, his gaze like insects crawling across her skin.
"You wound my honor! Consider me a peer for your vice." Then his eyes were on Hope's again, and she stiffened as he said, "We should have a chat, you and I." But not here. This quaint little scene is decidedly too middle-of-nowhere for my tastes."
Raphael snapped his fingers, and the vegetation on the risen road that surrounded them dissolved. In its place, it became a dining room of dark, rich decor and a roaring fireplace settled in a massive, gothic hearth, of which he stood proudly before.
"There. Middle-of-somewhere," he smirked, holding his arms out in a show, "the House of Hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed - lavishly. Go on. Partake. Enjoy your supper. After all...it might just be your last."
His eyes landed on hers once more, and irritation feathered the muscle in her jaw. If he knew who she was, what power she possessed, he certainly didn't show it with respect. Then again, she truly might be just a tadpole in a vast ocean here.
It was Shadowheart that replied, "What makes you say that?"
"Call it a ninth sense."
Hope scowled now, "We don't need you."
"No?" He asked. "Not easily rattled, I see. Good. Makes the next part that much more straightforward."
As if shedding a coat, Raphael grew with magic, stepping out of his own skin with a blustery of magic and hellfire. Hope lowered her stance, staring at him, horned and red-skinned.
What the actual fuck…
"What's better than a devil you don't know?" He drawled. "A devil you do."
Everyone, including herself, remained exactly where they were, but all were stiff as if ready to either run or attack in an instant.
"Am I a friend?" He continued. "Potentially. An adversary? Conceivably. But a savior? That's for certain. Consider your predicament. One skull, two tenants, and no solution in sight. I could fix it all like that." He snapped his fingers again.
Hope narrowed her eyes and studied him. "That's a bold claim."
"Don't believe me?"
"I think you're full of shit," Hope said, stepping away from Astarion's side and toward the devil. She didn't miss the way Astarion nearly stepped forward, too, jaw tight. "No one with enough skin in the game does anything for free. Unless you're stupid, of course."
Raphael's smirk lowered, and his nose wrinkled in distaste. "Hm," he murmured, low and grating in his throat, "I think if I were you, I'd mind my manners."
"Let me guess," Hope smiled, tilting her head as she examined him, "a soul for a parasite, is that how this works?"
His lips slowly curved up again, but the fire in his eyes didn't dim, "Answers will come, all in good time, Hope…Mmmm…" A soft purr before he chuckled.
Hope's lip curled in response.
"Try to cure yourself. Shop around - beg, borrow, and steal. Exhaust every possibility until none are left. And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair - that's when you'll come knocking on my door."
"Not likely," Hope spat as the heat in her eyes gathered, and she knew he saw it. He saw the deadly, golden amber fill her iris by the light in his own eyes.
He chuckled, watching her now as if she were the only one in the room, "By all means, bite the hand that feeds you while you still have teeth. All those pretty little symptoms - sundering skin, dissolving guts - they haven't manifested yet, have they?"
Hope swallowed.
"One might say you're a paragon of luck," he smirked, "I'll be there when it runs out. Take all the time you need - but make up your mind before you're counting down with tentacles."
Rolling her eyes, she wanted more than anything to reach out to him with her magic. To feel the inner-working web of his madness, but mostly, to cause him pain. He knew…he knew who she was, and he was blatantly toying with her.
"Perhaps you haven't yet realized how desperate these times are. You will," he looked her over once more, and said, "I look forward to our next meeting."
And like that, the devil and his House of Hope, was gone. They stood, once again, on the forgotten road leading toward an impossible end.