Realm Year: 1472

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Screams of a female drow can be heard as the thunder crackled outside of the night echoed up in the heavy clouds, her screams sharing the roars as the raging storm. Her husband was standing on her left caressing her hand as she heavily let out rapid pants as the nurse instructed her on her next steps.

"You're doing good, dear. Just a little more, breathe. In and out," the Nurse instructed.

"You've got this, precious." Ghira told her on the other side.

In a humble cottage, Elara gripped the edges of her sheets, surrounded by the flickering light of candles casting shadows on the worn walls. Her icy blue hand gripped her husbands' tightly angrily, pushing as hard as she could despite the burning pain.

"Ooooh gods," Elara grunted. "Ahhh, it's hurts!"

"I know..."

The midwife had been in the room since before the sun had gone down, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that the first contractions started, and the pains only seemed to be getting worse. The midwife kept saying it wouldn't be much longer.

"This is all your fault!"

"...I know."

"Again," the nurse chimed in.

"AHHHH!"

As the storm outside continued, some of the townsfolk stood outside, umbrellas held in place, with mixed hopes and reactions. 

Some whispered silent prayers to their ancient gods for the child to soon be born whilst others looked the other way and hid their children away indoors, hoping to avoid them witnessing a potential tragedy if possible.

Inside the house, Ghira tried his best to stay calm, but he could feel his anxiety rising as the evening progressed. He hated how he couldn't do anything but watch and it frightened him, for both his wife and unborn child.

"You're almost there, Elara," the nurse encouraged as Elara let out another push.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

A few minutes passed before Elara finally calmed down enough to catch her breath, but her eyes were still full of rage. A loud roar echoed once again outside the rainy storm. But that all changed once this one was mixed with a powerful cry of a newborn.

"Congratulations, it's a boy," the midwife said.

She wrapped the newborn in a blanket, and gently handed him to Elara, who took the babe in her arms. She let out a faint chuckle as she took a look at him. Ghira shared the sight, and his face went to a shock before evolving into a small laugh. 

"Don't say it." Elara muttered, enough for him to hear.

"What?" Ghira grinned, "Even I thought he was going to take more of his mother's side."

Elara smiled weakly; her husband leaned forward to kiss her on the head. The cottage started to feel calm, the rain outside becoming nothing but just a distant thought as the babe, nestled in his mother's arms, carrying a potential promise — even the storm itself began to gradually give itself into a distant rumble, almost as if it was acknowledging the successful miracle.

"He looks so much like you." She told him which Ghira nodded. "And I'm fine with it.'

"But he has the most precious thing of all," Ghira smiled proudly as her gaze met with his, "Your eyes."

Elara's violet drow eyes glowed and she couldn't help but smile back, gazing down at her little baby.

She had a son.

They had a son.

He was born, and he was perfect.

It was everything that she hoped for. It was everything they hoped for and more.

"Thank you, ancient ones," Ghira murmured, closing his eyes in relief. "I promise you. This one will have a promising future. If Tyr and Selune would allow it."

"I like the sound of that." Elara giggled.

"What do you want to call him?"

The couple paused, and then glanced at each other.

"I was thinking," Elara said slowly, "how about the name-"

"Daelin?"

Nineteen Years Later

Daelin's eyes blinked multiple times as he felt dazed, gasping for air as he slowly found himself in what looked to be some sort of pod. His head was pounding as he struggled to move, his arms felt numb and barely movable — even if they were more stable, there was no way he could even escape as he felt heavy restraints on him.

The Paladin looked further on the open window to see the tentacle monsters, looking into what looks to be a pool of brine. Even as the blur in his vision currently ached, he recognized them all too well from the old journals that he read during his early years in the academy.

A mind flayer.

A motherfucking Mind-Flayer was right in front of him. The question that filled the boy's head was just how, why and what are they doing here.

He always imagined that they were myths. Stories that one would tell children, at least that how his master's would portray it as such. But here they are starring in a pool of brine with the only person besides him (or them) being another person who was more awake and movable than even he was — he couldn't tell what she looked like, but it wasn't one he was familiar with.

Nevertheless, there couldn't be any exchanging words as she, and eventually he, was drafted towards the Mind-Flayer who plucked out a tadpole from the brine. He watched as the tadpole wriggled and squirmed in its grasp.

The mind flayer turned to the woman first, levitating over to her before resting the tadpole on her face. She tried to move away best she could, the fear was evident on her face, before the worm worked its way up to her eye and wrestled its way behind it. She cried out at the sensation, before going slack in the pod.

Daelin didn't like where this was going.

And unfortunately, his dislike grew even further as the creature picked up another tadpole from the brine and was now heading his way. 

Daelin tried his best to move, shout but he could do neither. His arms and legs felt paralyzed, and his throat felt numb. His eyes were the only things that were considered movable from the outside as he was screaming from the inside.

There'd been many painful experiences in his life, but words couldn't quite describe the blinding pain of the tadpole as it wormed its way through his eye.

And it was far from painless.

It was excruciating as he felt the inside of his brain slowly burn like molted lava.

He could hear himself screaming as his nails dug into his palm, trying to keep his composure. He felt a tiny trail of blood dripping down his cheek, and it wasn't long before he even lost consciousness as he could feel the worm settle at the base of his brain.

...

The next thing he knew, everything was on fire, and he was fairly certain it wasn't him — and not partly his kidnappers. Once his vision came clear, he found himself alone in the room, suddenly on the ground and out of the pod. 

Daelin rose himself up, letting out a faint grunt as his head ached — no one else was in their pod. At least, those who looked alive. There's another pod that was wide-open, giving the hint that someone must've escaped, hopefully he could find them and see if they can help him out.

'Gods above' Daelin let out a sigh as he readjusted himself. This really wasn't how he was wanting his day to go. But at least he was alive, that had to count for something, right?

He took a look inside the pool just close to his left, feeling the back of his eye twitch and writhe. Slowly he regained what happened. That worm. It was now inside his eye, hopefully he could find some surgeon to take it out if he was given the chance, but he has more important things to handle.

The question did catch his attention however, where exactly was he? The air felt rough and course as the wind blew angrily met with powerful storms-

'No no no...it can't be right?'. He hoped to the gods that he wasn't where he thinks he was. Otherwise, this was far from worse. This was hell.

He quickly turned and rushed to the exit of the ship, hoping he would make it on time. Daelin felt his stomach drop when he reached the deck. There were no signs of his gear, the bastards must've taken them when they captured me. But he supposes he could scavenge a weapon or something on the way out.

The half-drow took a deep breath and started making his way across the ship, carefully navigating around the piles of debris and bodies. The ship was definitely in bad shape, and he knew it wouldn't be long until the entire vessel fell apart.

'Here'

The hell?

'Here!'

A voice in his head whispered to him. Great, good to know I'm going crazy. It sounded like someone was here but at the same time wasn't as his head ached. The sound was calling to him, pleading him to find their source.

'Save us!'

Save us? But how? And where?

There's a faint pulling in the back of his mind, like the yank of a leash, forcefully drawing him up a fleshy ramp to where an elf laid limply in a chair. Immediately he ran up towards the motionless elf.

"Hey...you alright?"

The elf doesn't respond, so Daelin takes a step closer, and then promptly throws up. 

The entire top of his head is missing, skull and scalp together, exposing a quivering brain; Daelin realizes with another heave that the brain was the one talking to him.

We are here!

Daelin pauses, blinking a few times as his eyes twitch, "Hello?"

That voice. It wasn't loud, he looked around trying to find the voice but then the voice spoke again. This time, he felt his headache almost as if it was....in his mind.

We are trapped. Please save us from this place, from this place you'll free us.

He followed the voice and to his shock. Nothing could prepare him for what he was seeing. No one was here. There wasn't anyone.

No one but the brain.

It was...speaking to him. As if things didn't get weirder for the boy.

"What are you?" he murmured, glancing at it.

A newborn. Born from this husk.

Daelin nodded, still keeping his distance a foot away. After what just happened, he wasn't in the mood to be as easily trapped as he was before.

'Please, before they return. They always return' the brain begs. For a while, the boy felt fear – as in, his body shaked anxiously and his breath steadied, debating with himself on what he should do next.

The enemy approaches. So many enemies. Free us.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Free us from this prison.

Daelin closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath before opening them back. He knew things wouldn't be the same after this and it already wasn't beforehand.

Speaking of which...

'I need to get out here and get back to the capital. I have to see if....if the place is still remaining. If...he's still...'

With a sigh, he nods. He can't really be angry at a small brain, and he couldn't even if he wanted to. He kept his eyes closed; however, he couldn't stomach having to do this to someone so innocent. For that he was deeply sorry as he pressed his fingers to the man's skull.

Slowly and carefully, he pulled the brain out of the man's skull; it wiggled out of his hands, and it hit the floor before it spouted out legs. The man's body was now lifeless, if it wasn't already.

We are free! the brain crows triumphantly. We must get to the helm.

"The what?" Daelin has no idea if the brain is referring to itself or the both of them. "What's at the helm?"

Did you not hear? We are needed. You will come to the helm with us.

He's never seen a creature like this, but he can only imagine it's some kind of Mind Flayer minion, eyes and ears more likely and no doubt will probably lead him like a pig to slaughter. His instincts urge him to run, but there's nowhere to run. 

He's trapped on this ship, but the brain has mentioned enemies. So maybe someone is taking over? Could a mutiny save them?

Only one can hope.

All of his options felt unfavorable, none of them offering a visible outcome, so there wasn't any choice he has. So, he nods, and the brain leads him eagerly. 

Once they were out through the wreckage of the ship, avoiding falling debris and clusters of fire, the answer to that question was given to him. The crimson horror as far as his eyes could see, the raging storm of the sky and the dark clouds. Daelin let out a breath once he realized.

He was in Avernus. The place of hells where demons and devils linger.

It felt like he never escaped if that was the case. After the events of Elturel, one must've thought Avernus went down with it.

'Why is I here? How am I here? I thought...I thought they closed it!'

'Hurry! To the helm! We are needed!' the brain urged, to which he was not quite sure why it's so eager. Is it truly not aware of their surroundings, or is it too naive to know better?

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to have time to answer that, as he felt eyes on him. He turned just in time to see the same woman from before, fully armored-worn, leap above his head and land in front of him. He felt the cold tip of the steal sword pointed directly at his throat as his lavender eyes met with the striking eyes of the woman.

"Abomination! " She hissed. "This will be your end!"

"Hold on-"

She moved to strike, but at that moment, both of their tadpoles seemed to connect, showing each other their thoughts and recent memories. The sensation felt fundamentally wrong to Daelin, different from any telepathy he was versed in.

It was uncomfortable, alienated, and worst of all, he could feel the damned thing squirming in his head. He saw visions of himself from the woman's eyes, got a taste of her thoughts, and he was certain she had gotten the same from him.

"Ngh! What is this?" She grunted, clutching her head.

"I don't know," he panted, "but I'm not an enemy, I never was."

"Tsk'va!" She spat, "You are no thrall. Vlaakith blesses me on this day!"

She moved up closer, grabbing what looks to be a weapon from one of the dead soldiers and threw it at him, "Together, we might survive."

Daelin looked at her, thankfully catching the sword and gripping it tightly as she sheathed her sword. Her stance looked somewhat relaxed, so it didn't look like he was in any danger.

"What even made you think I was?"

"We carry mind flayer parasites. Unless we escape - if we are not cleansed - our minds and bodies will be tainted and twisted into ghaik." She pointed at the corpse of one of the mind flayers.

"So, the worms.... they're turning us into one of them?" She nods and he sighs, "That doesn't sound very appealing."

"It won't if we don't escape — that must be our priority."

He couldn't agree any further, "What do you suggest then?"

"We fight our way to the helm and take control of the ship." The gith woman turned to look at a few imps gorging themselves on the corpse of... something he didn't want to identify. "Once we make it back to the Material Plane, we can work on cleansing ourselves. We've only a matter of days before we are transformed."

"Wonderful," he murmured before adjusting his grip on his sword. "Fine. Let's get where we need to go."

"But first," Using the sword as a pointer, she directs his attention to a gaggle of small, winged creatures, feasting on the corpse of someone distinctly unluckier than they are.

"Yeah," he muttered darkly, "I know them very well."

"We will exterminate them first, then continue onwards to the helm. And as for that," here she directs a pointed look to the brain, "it will remain tame, as long as it believes we are thralls. Do not provoke it."

"Don't have to tell me twice." He nods before they made their move towards the the group of imps. Daelin took a deep breath before charging up at them and taking the first swing.

His strike was true and managed to cleave the imp clean in half. However, that didn't seem to matter much, as the second imp just took his place. It wasn't long before the rest of the imps surrounded him, each of them with an equal hunger in their eyes.

The boy wasn't a stranger to these creatures, but it had been a few years since he last saw them. The war was long over, or so he thought.

"Come on then!" he shouted, holding his sword ready. The imps didn't seem to need much encouragement, and they rushed towards him with a chorus of high-pitched screeches.

It was a short battle, but one that left him panting for breath — partially due to being worn out from everything that's happened. But nevertheless, the last imp fell with a shriek, its guts splattered on the deck, and he turned back to his companion.

"We must press onwards." The woman marched forward, the little brain following her pursuit while Daelin followed from behind.

...

They walk for another ten minutes (climb might be a better word, given how the ship is rocking and swaying), Daelin becoming decidedly too familiar with the sticky feeling of arterial mesh for his own liking, before entering a large chamber.

Out of restless energy, or maybe desperation, he pushes every button he sees until she threatens to cut his hands off, and then he just pushes them quieter. The cultists laid out on the table are as good as dead anyway, what's the true harm in just speeding up the process by pushing the big button that says "annihilate?"

'Why does that sound so good in my head?'

"Does it look like it matters?" He countered, quickly turning back. "Could lead us out of here. This ship should have some kind of teleporter, right?"

"And if it kills us?"

Daelin shrugged. "Don't got much to live for anyway."

The paladin continued venturing and looking for anything else around the chamber until a loud THUMP! caught him from behind.

Immediately, he sheathed his sword and turned only to find a young dark-haired woman, who appeared to be somewhat elvish due to the pointy ears, trapped in a pod, just like he and the warrior woman had been.

"Get me out of this damn thing!" She pleaded, rapidly pounding the enclosure.

Daelin ran over to her pod, and she stopped screaming to appraise him. "Are you alright?"

"I will be if you get me out of here!"

"Help me get out of here."

The gith woman chimes in, with a disapproving hiss. "We have no time to stragglers. We must leave. Now."

"Wait!" the dark-haired one yelps. "I can help you. Just let me out. They did something to that console," she jerks her head to a contraption to the left of her pod, "When they put me in here."

"Do you intend to die for a stranger?" the Gith hissed impatiently. "We must leave immediately if we want to find a cure!"

Daelin turned to her, "We're as good as dead anyway - so what's helping some stranger gonna make a difference."

The gith hissed before the boy takes a look at the contraption enough to notice a small, empty socket. He kicks it to see if it'll do the job.

"As if that'll work." the dark-haired woman commented.

"I could leave you here, you know," Daelin remarked instantly, before taking a sigh and continued looking around the socket. Nothing. He then turned back to look at the elf.

"There's something missing. I'll go look around, there should be something in the other room."

"Hurry," she pleads.

He nods as he leaves to the next room where his Gith companion appears to be looking around the room. In the next room, there's only one pod in the center and the person inside looked dazed, almost at the brink of death. A corpse at the foot of the pod holds a rune clutched in its hand.

 "We can't save anyone." the Gith told him harshly.

He turned sharply and glared at her, "We can if we try!"

The Gith crossed her arms and huffed as he tried to look for anything to help the two people in the pods. He may not be at his fullest, but he'll be damned before he let any more deaths go on his conscious. Daelin did find something though as he knelt down to inspect it and finds that it's about the proper size and shape to fit in the console's socket – this could be what the girl in the pod needs.

There's another console a few feet from this pod, with no empty sockets. Thinking it could be what she needs to be released or better yet flies them out of here, he smacks the button; instead of opening, the glass fogs up, and there's the sound of cracking bones deep within. 

Daelin approaches cautiously and jumps back when a long, purple hand smacks against the window.

"Changed at the push of a button," the Gith spits from the doorway.

Daelin stared at the now-changed Mind Flayer, his expression laid with horror and guilt as his hands nearly twitched at the sight of his doing, "I'm sorry." was all he could mutter before he rushed back to her.

"She was as good as dead anyway," the Gith hissed. "There was no saving her. If we're not purified, that may be our fate."

"But I was the one who forced the changed - maybe,"

"Don't fight over what you could've done," she turned, "Focus on the half-elf if you insist on this silly heroic fantasy. Our time is running short."

Daelin glancing at the rune in his hand as they made their way back inside the room where the elf was. "Will this free her or..."

She responds by yanking the rune from his hand and walks over back to the pod. "This is not the same. It will bend to your will."

He nods as she inserts it into the console then stepped back. The boy approaches the console's interface, staring at it with haste before placing his hand on the interface. The thing behind his eye wiggles excitedly which brought a unbeknownst shiver down his spine.

Open.

Change?

No Change! He growled Open now!

A pneumatic hiss chimed as the hatch opens. The dark-haired woman attempts to stand but tumbles out of the pod, falling down to the ground.

"You good?" He held her back up.

"Yeah....thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin." She looks up to him. And then, a tinge of wariness – the presence of the Githyanki, by how she looked at her, it was setting off some bad alarms.

"You keep dangerous company," the dark-haired woman warns, taking a step back.

"Does it really matter," he brushed that off before moving to the bigger topic, "You felt that just now right?"

"I did. It must be because of those parasites they put in us," she looked angry and with every right to be honest. "They'll have to wait. I need to get off this ship alive first."

He nods, "We all do."

"Let me come with you – we can get off this ship together and watch each other's backs along the way."

Daelin looks to the Gith, who grits her teeth before gesturing assent, and then turns back with a polite tone, "What other choice do we got. I'm Daelin."

He extends a hand, just like his father taught him, but the girl ignores him in favor of pulling some kind of dyad out of a pack next to the pod. Daelin lowered his head almost winced at the sudden awkwardness but the woman gave him a small smile.

"Shadowheart," she introduces herself, inspecting the artifact before returning it and slinging the whole pack onto her pocket.

"What's that?" He asked curiously.

"It's nothing. Trust me." She assured him.

"We don't have time for this," the githyanki hisses. "We need to get the helm – now."

"She's right," Shadowheart agrees.

The boy sighs and nods, and the three of them - with the tiny brain following them like a lost puppy - start off towards the helm.

...

The trio made their way back into the corridor, making sure to avoid any cultists, demons or whatever else lurks in the halls. Daelin felt a shiver, a cold wind blew against his neck and he felt the tadpole in his head twitch.

Something is coming.

The three of them turn around near the corner where they found themselves in a small room. The Gith lady halted them before they made their way to the next room.

The boy sighs and nods, and the three of them - with the tiny brain following them like a lost puppy - start off towards the helm.

"This is it?"

"Certainly," the Green Lady confirmed. "Once inside, do as I say."

"Who put you in charge?" Shadowheart glared, "I'll trust my own judgment."

The green woman huffed, "Kainyank."

"Look, it doesn't matter who is in charge. Let's just get out of here."

Both women glared at one another before ultimately agreeing it was best to be allies and not argue over something as 'who's in command'. Once settled, Daelin opened the membrane to reveal an interesting sight.

It was a whole battlefield: more Mind Flayers, only more legged brains and fully armored (which he could assume was their primal form) and-

"Hell creatures!" Daelin gritted his teeth, taking out his sword as the swarming imps lunged forward once, they caught sight of the three. Specifically, the Paladin Knight.

Mind Flayers crack open skulls like walnuts, and the hell creatures stab, burn, and claw; the room littered with the corpses alike as devils and mind flayer were slaughtering one another as the air is heavy with the smell of iron and sulfur.

"Ignore them," the githyanki instructs, shifting her sword in her grip. "Our goal is the transponder."

"You do that, I'm taking them now!" Daelin rushes forward at the closest demon in full speed.

"Tch, Idiot!" the githyanki hisses, but follows the boy's example, engaging the enemy with her blade.

Shadowheart turns to some of the swarming imps, then reaches out a hand; her palm glows white-hot for a moment, and a small ball of fire appears and hurtles towards the tiny devils. Her attack hits true, burning several imps and setting one aflame. Unfortunately, the other imps were quick to adapt, and a couple of them quickly rush towards her.

Daelin slashes and slays as many imps as he could, but the demons were relentless, and their numbers seemed to be increasing. For every one he cut down, two more took its place.

One of the imps lunged at him, managing to sink its claws into his leg. The paladin cried out in pain and lashed out with his sword, severing the demon's head from its body. Another imp jumped onto his back, and the boy was barely able to fend off the creature's claws as they scratched at his face and neck.

Another imp launched itself at him, and the boy quickly managed to dodge the blow. The imp was knocked off balance, and the paladin quickly seized the opportunity to cut the creature in half with a single swing of his sword.

Meanwhile, the githyanki was attempting to make her way to the transponder while fending off group of imps her way. Despite the numbers and her injuries, the imps didn't seem to have the upper hand.

As Daelin rose up after killing the last imp in his area, he took notice of a primal mind-flayer dodging heavy swings from a familiar large-horned creature; Cambion. And it was one that the young paladin was vaguely familiar with.

"Zhalk," he muttered under his breath.

"Take this ship!" Zhalk barked at the imps, "Or Zariel will have your heads!"

The Mind Flayer telekinetically pushed the Commander of Hell's Legions back against the wall then turned to the trio, "Thrall! Connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape, now." He spoke in their heads as Zhalk rose up, his large sword ready to strike.

"Do it." the Gith agreed with the Illithid, "We will deal with the ghaik after we escape."

The paladin didn't respond nor gesture. Only watched directly as the Commander rose up and glanced at the young paladin, his eyes widened,

"Well, I'll be damned, I thought you died back in Baldur's Gate."

Daelin glared, readying his sword. "How did you escape the siege? How are you still alive!"

"I got an alternative," Zhalk laughed gleefully as he raised his weapon. "Tell me how you survived, and I'll make your death quick and painless."

"Like I'll give you any satisfaction!" Daelin hissed, his eyes steaming with anger.

"Always prideful with you Paladins." the commander laughed, "I wonder how long that'll last!"

Their blades clashed with a loud clang. The paladin gritted his teeth, struggling to hold his ground against the much stronger and larger cambion.

"I've killed the master and now I've get to kill the apprentice too," Zhalk chuckled maliciously, "Zariel will be pleased to find that Baldur's Gate's protecters are gone."

Daelin's mouth twitched as he pulled himself back and swung his sword with renewed vigor. The two of them traded blows, both evenly matched. The paladin managed to land a few strikes on the commander, but the demon's hide was thick, and the wounds were merely flesh wounds.

The commander of hell's legion, on the other hand, was a bit more successful in his attacks, and had managed to inflict several deep cuts and bruises on the boy's arms and torso. Daelin could feel his strength waning, and his breathing was becoming labored. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer.

"Tell me how you survived, and I'll make your death quick and painless," Zhalk taunted, landing another strike on the young boy.

"Like I'll give you any satisfaction!" Daelin hissed, clashing his strike with his blade.

"Always prideful with you Paladins." the commander laughed, "I wonder how long that'll last!"

Their swords locked together, both fighters trying to gain the upper hand. Daelin could feel his arms trembling from the strain, and the commander was beginning to push him back. The boy's knees buckled under the force, and the commander seized the opportunity to kick him to the ground. The paladin was knocked onto his back, his sword slipping out of his grasp.

The paladin was at his limits, his strength was nearly depleted, and the commander was gaining the advantage. However, he refused to give up the fight. Not yet.

With a grunt of effort, Daelin rose to his feet, his fists raised in a defensive stance. The commander chuckled,

"A valiant effort, but it is useless. You cannot hope to defeat me. I am the Commander of the Hell's Legions, and you are but a lowly, pathetic mortal."

"Seven hells, will you ever shut up!"

The paladin didn't respond, and simply charged at the commander, his fists flying. Zhalk laughed and easily blocked the strikes, not even bothering to just slice him already. He wanted to relish defeating the youngest of the Order - even if this would be his last battle.

He landed a solid punch to the commander's face, which pushed the devil back a few steps. Wiping out the blood off his mouth he chuckled,

"All that for a drop of blood." He smirked, "Have gone soft?"

Daelin was going to land another kick when Zhalk elbowed him away. Daelin rolled down the stairs and barely dodged Zhalk when he attempted to stomp him blow. 

Zhalk's grin grew each moment he looked at the boy but there was a hint of impatient, disappointment. Why isn't he faltering. He wants him to look defeated. He needs him to feel defeated.

Zhalk's grin morphed into a growl once his eyes flashed red and his horns and nails began to grow until they looked like long sharp claws. With a roar, the commander charged forward, slamming his shoulder into the paladin and sending him flying across the room. The boy hit the wall with a sickening thud, and slumped to the floor, dazed. 

Zhalk approached, towering over the paladin, with his sword raised for a killing blow. This was it, his glorious moment.

"Any last words, boy?" the cambion sneered.

"Yeah," the boy rasped, "I hope you burn."

The commander laughed and brought his blade down, but the blow never landed. Instead, hit an invisible barrier, and the shockwave of the impact knocked the cambion back.

Daelin turned to see the Mind Flayer, standing nearby with one of his tentacles held out. The commander was stunned, and the paladin saw his chance. He ran over and grabbed his sword which was only a few feet away.

As he prepared to act, the ship suddenly convulsed, startling the Paladin as his eyes widened at the sight of a dragon circling the vessel.

"A dragon!" Daelin cried out; his eyes stunned at the sudden sight before glancing towards the Gith.

"Quickly!" the green lady urged him and Shadowheart, "Before they attack!"

"You are not going anywhere!" Zhalk's voice boomed, cutting through the chaos. "None of you are!"

The paladin turned his attention back to the commander, his fists clenched tightly. He couldn't let this opportunity slip away — if anything, he also can't let him stop them from leaving either so might as well kill two birds with one stone.

"Go! Get us out of here!" Daelin yelled at the two before pointing his weapon at the devil, the Mind Flayer by chance standing with the young Paladin.

With a cry of defiance, the boy charged forward, his blade singing through the air. Zhalk parried the blow, but the impact was enough to throw the commander off balance. With swings and parries, the Paladin was slowly gaining the upper hand, and the cambion was visibly starting to wear down. The mind-flayer seemed to have the same idea and began using his psionic powers to attack the commander, throwing him off further.

The two blades clashed once again, Daelin could feel the pressing heat from Zhalk's blade as both struggled to end the other once and for all. Zhalk sniffed the energy flowing around Daelin, he could smell his emotions, his wallow, his... he paused, then chuckled.

"I smell blood," Zhalk stated gleefully, "Thousands of voices crying out and then suddenly silenced."

Zhalk grinned further as he started to take notice of Daelin's expression. He could sense his blood frozen as his words seemed to sink deep within.

"And you're the one that killed them."

The cambion smirked, his eyes flashing red as he pushed the boy back. Daelin stumbled, his grip on his sword faltering. The commander took the opportunity and struck, his blade slicing through the boy's torso. Daelin cried out in pain, his blood spraying across the deck.

The paladin's legs buckled under the force, and he fell to the ground, clutching his wound. Zhalk stood over him, his blade dripping with blood.

"You will die here, and I will claim your soul as my prize," the commander growled.

Daelin could feel his life draining, his vision blurring. He looked up at the commander, his expression in such defeat.

This put a smile on his face.

Then at a moment...he felt something. In his moments of defeat, bleeding out as his lungs became harder to contain.

He felt a need to live.

A need to keep going.

An urge to consume.

Zhalk raised his blade, but before he could strike, a blast of cold air hit him, and the boy could feel the presence of his new ally.

"You will not have his soul!" the Mind-flayer declared, "I shall feast well on your souls!"

Zhalk roared and turned his attention to the Mind-flayer, but it was too late. Daelin used this opportunity to take advantage and lunged forward as his sword pierced directly at the commander's back and through his heart.

Zhalk's let out a cry of pain and rage. The commander stumbled trying to turn around but the sword became too heavy for him to move as the paladin pushed his blade further down until Zhalk fell to the ground.

"This is for everyone who has suffered because of you!" Daelin gritted his teeth as he pulled his sword out while Zhalk fell to the ground. The commander of the Hells finally defeated.

Before Daelin could even take a moment of breath, he immediately felt his mind screech in pain until he was on his knees. The Mind Flayer's cold eyes towered over him.

You are no longer required.

'Should've known he'd turn.'

Thankfully Shadowheart made it to the helm's transporter. She connects the neural console with its two arms which makes the ship warp out of wherever they are and towards somewhere safe.

The whole ship began to shake which thankfully pulled Daelin out of the Mind-Flayer's kinetic grasp as the fires and unbearable heat were replaced by brisk night air and the thick smoke.

Gravity seems to kick into effect all at once and everyone (at least those still alive) were thrown to all sides of the ship. As Daelin careens out of the hole in the hull, he hopes the crash doesn't do too much unless he uses his magic to pull himself from death. 

The rush of air around him makes his head spin. He squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to watch the ground rise up to meet him and tries to get in one last breath of air.

'Not gonna like, this would be a cool way to die — if not for everything else'

His headache and the ringing pierced his ears as he opened his eyes, surprised to find that he was around some kind of sand mere inches below him.

"It is not yet your time, young one."

A voice spoke deep into his head, one that sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't fathom who it exactly was.

Daelin didn't have time to process however as soon as he hit the ground, the world around him went black.