Prototype's Gate

Almost everyone was awake, save for Gale and Tav, who were still lost in sleep. Astarion was engrossed in a book, his pale fingers delicately turning the pages, while Shadowheart sat in quiet contemplation, her hands clasped in prayer. Lae'zel had left the camp to train outside . Alex, curious and troubled by recent revelations, decided to approach Shadowheart, hoping her knowledge as a cleric might shed light on the concept of the soul.

He waited patiently, observing the serene expression on her face as she communed with her deity. He knew better than to interrupt—disrupting someone’s prayer could anger the gods, or worse, the one praying. When she finally finished, Shadowheart turned her head to look at him, her gaze sharp and slightly suspicious.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her tone edged with irritation, as if she was already anticipating a nuisance.

"I want to know more about the soul," Alex replied directly, though his voice held a tentative edge.

Shadowheart's eyes scanned him, sizing him up. Her gaze was piercing, as if she could see straight through him. "You don’t strike me as someone who would be interested in such a subject," she remarked, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Alex followed her gaze down to his own form, noting her subtle mockery. But he remained unfazed.

"Let's not waste time," she continued, her voice growing more serious. "What do you want to know?"

"What exactly is a soul?" Alex asked, his tone steady, but inside he was brimming with questions.

Shadowheart closed her eyes, pondering how to best explain such an abstract concept. When she spoke, her voice was calm, almost reverent. "A soul is the very essence of who we are. It holds our memories, emotions, and everything that makes us unique individuals. When we die, our soul leaves our body and travels to the afterlife, where it’s judged by the gods based on the life we’ve led."

Alex leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. "So, it’s like an immortal part of us?"

"Precisely," Shadowheart nodded. "It’s believed that the soul is eternal, surviving beyond the death of the body. It can be influenced by powerful magic, even trapped or destroyed, but it is the core of our existence. Without it, we are not truly alive."

Alex's mind raced. "Can a soul grow?"

"Yes," she said, her tone softening. "A soul matures as we do, expanding with each experience, every emotion, every choice we make. It's a reflection of our growth as beings."

"And what about those who don’t have a soul?" Alex’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if he feared the answer.

Shadowheart’s expression grew somber. "Those without a soul are truly lost. They are empty, devoid of true feeling or purpose. They might walk and talk like the living, but they are mere shells, existing without the vital spark that gives life meaning. Such beings are often the result of dark magic or severe curses—tragic, pitiful creatures."

Alex felt a chill run down his spine. Shadowheart’s words struck a deep chord within him. He hadn’t been born in the conventional sense; he was engineered in a lab, crafted by a man whose obsession bordered on madness. Did that mean he was soulless? And if so, was that why Withers had seen a mere "seed" of a soul within him? Was that all he had—just the potential for what others possessed naturally?

"Is there any way to gain a soul if one doesn’t have it?" Alex asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Shadowheart studied him for a moment before answering. "There are ancient tales of beings who have regained their souls, often through acts of great sacrifice or redemption. Some believe it’s a gift from the gods, given to those who prove themselves worthy. But these are rare, almost mythical occurrences. Why do you ask? Did you sell your soul to a devil?" She raised an eyebrow, half-joking, half-serious.

"No, nothing like that," Alex quickly lied, trying to sound casual. "I just came across a book that mentioned something about a 'seed of a soul,' and it got me thinking."

Shadowheart’s expression turned contemplative. "A seed of a soul? That’s an interesting concept. I believe I’ve heard something like that before. It’s said that before birth, a baby possesses a seed—a tiny, undeveloped soul. When they are born, that seed blossoms into a full soul, growing as they grow."

Alex nodded, though his mind was far from at ease. The idea of having only a seed of a soul—a mere possibility of something more—was deeply unsettling. But he knew he couldn’t press the matter further without raising suspicion.

"Thank you for the information," he said, his voice tight as he turned away.

Shadowheart watched him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she said nothing more as Alex walked back to his tent. He ducked inside, closing himself off from the rest of the group. Alone, he tried to organize his thoughts, but the answers he had received only led to more questions.

________________

After Gale and Tav woke up not long after the others, Tav noticed Alex sitting near his tent, lost in thought. Concerned, Tav approached him, his expression that of a worried friend.

"Where have you been? Shadowheart mentioned you came from deep within the temple," Tav asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

"I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to read some books in that room with the big statue in the middle," Alex replied, his tone casual as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tav's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You read the books there?"

"Shouldn’t I have done that?" Alex asked, picking up on Tav's reaction.

"No, no, it's just... those books are ancient, written in languages most of us can't understand, and they mostly talk about an old god no one around here has heard of," Tav explained, clearly puzzled by Alex's choice.

Alex nodded, understanding Tav's surprise. The books were indeed obscure, but he had found them fascinating, especially since they seemed to hint at a deity that bore a striking resemblance to Withers. But rather than dive into that mystery, Alex merely shrugged. "It was relaxing."

Tav chuckled softly, shaking his head. "If you say so."

As the group prepared to leave the church, Alex approached Tav again, his mind set on a particular destination. "Is it a problem if I go and explore the crashed nautiloid?" he asked.

Tav considered this for a moment. "Hm... We already cleared out everything that was there and checked all there was to check, but sure, I don’t see a problem with it. Maybe it’ll help with your memory loss. After you're done, meet us at the grove," Tav said, patting Alex on the shoulder before heading off with the others.

Alex watched Tav walk away, noting how naturally the man fell into the role of a leader. His friendly demeanor and easy trust made him a natural choice. It wasn’t hard to see why the others followed him.

The nautiloid crash site was just a few meters south of the church's front door. As Alex approached, the air grew thicker with the stench of death and decay. The aftermath of the crash was grisly—corpses lay strewn about, their bodies torn and mangled by something with claws. A little further on, Alex found the culprit: a brain with legs, lying motionless on the sand, half of it charred by some magical fire. The grotesque creature resembled a disembodied brain, mounted on four bestial, double-jointed legs tipped with talons.

Alex stepped closer, inhaling deeply as he crouched beside the fallen creature. He placed his hand on it, and in response, red and black tendrils snaked out from his arm, engulfing the abomination and absorbing its body . The brain with legs was consumed, leaving nothing behind.

Satisfied, Alex stood and approached one of the nautiloid's few intact walls, composed of fleshy, organic material. He placed his hand on it, letting the tendrils extend once more. They burrowed into the wall, extracting a sample of the nautiloid's flesh before retracting back into Alex's arm, leaving a gaping hole.

He continued deeper into the wreckage, ignoring the stench of burning flesh that permeated the air, remnants of the fires that still flickered here and there. The ship was a ruined husk, filled with more of those brain creatures, each one dead—burned, frozen, or smashed by the Tav's party who had cleared the area before him. Finally, Alex found what he was searching for: a mind flayer, a grotesque humanoid creature with a squid-like head. Unfortunately, its head had been crushed to pulp, likely by one of Tav’s companions during the earlier battle.

Kneeling beside the corpse, Alex sighed. He placed his hand on what remained of the mind flayer, allowing the tendrils to consume it completely. With the DNA sample secured, Alex felt a grim satisfaction.

_______________

Finished with his exploration, Alex made his way back to the grove, only to find that Tav and his group had already left to explore elsewhere. He asked around and found that Wyll, the man who had greeted them at the gate, had left together with Tav’s group after a brief discussion, heading off on some urgent matter. It was clear whatever they were dealing with was important, as they hadn't even stopped to visit Nettie, the healer.

Alex considered tracking them down using his enhanced sense of smell but decided against it. This was an opportunity to test the new powers he had just acquired without the watchful eyes of his companions.

As he was heading towards the gate, ready to put his abilities to the test, he noticed three tiefling children lingering nearby, their eyes darting around as if searching for something—or someone. As soon as they spotted Alex, they ran towards him, their expressions a mix of worryand urgency.

"Hey, you were with Tav, right?" A young tiefling girl with a scarf over her left eye approached Alex, her voice edged with urgency.

Alex nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the distressed look on the kids’ faces.

"Good," the tiefling continued, clearly relieved. "We have a problem, and we need your help—urgently."

"Why ask me?" Alex replied, his tone neutral, though a flicker of curiosity sparked within him.

“We wanted to ask Tav and his friends, but they left before we could talk to them,” she explained, glancing briefly at her companions, who nodded in agreement.

"And how exactly can I help?" Alex asked, his gaze drifting over the anxious expressions of the tiefling children. There was something more than just worry in their eyes—a mix of fear and desperation.

“One of us, Mirkon... we can’t find him,” the girl said, her voice trembling slightly.

Alex’s expression softened. “I’ll help. Do you have anything that belongs to him? Something that carries his scent?”

The tiefling hesitated, her fingers curling protectively around something in her pocket. Her friends murmured something to her in hushed tones, urging her on. With a resigned sigh, she slowly pulled out a black braided bracelet. Alex reached out for it, but she instinctively pulled back, her eyes locking onto his.

“Take care of it,” she said firmly, her voice almost pleading. “It’s very important to Mirkon. It’s all he has left from his mother.”

Alex met her gaze, his expression serious. “I promise. I’ll keep it safe.”

The girl seemed to relax slightly, and with a final nod, she placed the bracelet into Alex’s palm. He could feel the tension easing as he turned away, seeking a more secluded spot in the grove. There, out of sight, he brought the bracelet to his nose, taking in its scent. Mirkon’s scent was faint, but it was enough. Alex carefully tucked the bracelet back into his pocket and began his search.

As he walked through the grove, the familiar smells of nature and the bustling activity around him became background noise. He was focused entirely on Mirkon’s scent, tracking it like a hunter. At one point, he paused, his attention drawn to an ox standing quietly by itself. There was something off about it—something that didn’t align with what he knew of these creatures. The smell was wrong, too faint, too cold.

“What are you?” Alex asked, more to himself than the ox, who simply stared back at him with unblinking eyes.

Not getting any response, Alex turned to a nearby tiefling who was busy tending to the other oxen. “Is this ox different from the others?” he asked.

The tiefling shook his head, not looking up from his work. “No, just a bit more docile than the rest.”

Alex took one last look at the strange ox before continuing on his way. He followed Mirkon’s scent trail, which led him out of the grove and down to a secluded beach at the back. There, standing ankle-deep in the water, was a young tiefling boy with brown-grey hair—Mirkon. He was staring out at the horizon, completely entranced.

As Alex drew closer, he heard it—a haunting melody that seemed to pull at his very soul, urging him to step into the water, to follow the voice. For a brief moment, he felt his will slipping, almost giving in to the call. But then, his mind snapped back. A psionic barrier, something he had acquired from the intellect devourer, surged around his brain, blocking the insidious influence. The tugging sensation faded, and clarity returned.

A harsh screech shattered the air, drawing Alex’s attention to three bird-like women perched on a red rock column nearby. They had the bodies of women but with wings for arms and sharp claws for feet. The one in the middle, clearly the leader, wore a bone mask and a necklace made of small bones. They were harpies, and their intent was clear in the way they puffed their feathers and screeched in anger.

Alex glanced at Mirkon, who was snapping out of his trance, looking around in confusion and fear. He didn’t have much time.

One of the harpies suddenly launched herself from the rock, diving straight for the boy. Alex moved with lightning speed, his fist connecting with the harpy’s face before she could reach her target. The force of the punch was brutal—he felt the bones in her skull crack under his knuckles. The harpy was sent hurtling back, crashing into the rock column. She didn’t move again.

The other two harpies screeched in fury, launching themselves into the air, talons extended as they dive-bombed toward Alex and Mirkon. Without hesitation, Alex scooped the boy into his arms and dashed away, moving too fast for the harpies to follow. They missed their mark and were forced to circle back, screeching in frustration.

Alex set Mirkon down behind him and quickly gathered a few small rocks from the ground. With pinpoint accuracy, he hurled them at the remaining harpies. The rocks shot through the air like bullets, tearing through the harpies’ wings and bodies. They fell from the sky, crashing to the ground, lifeless.

With the threat neutralized, Alex turned to Mirkon, who was staring at him with wide, astonished eyes. “Are you alright?” Alex asked, his voice gentler now.

Mirkon nodded slowly, his shock giving way to relief. “Yes... thank you for saving me.”

Alex offered a small smile, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the black bracelet. “Here, your friends gave this to me. You can have it back now.”

The boy’s eyes lit up as he took the bracelet, clutching it tightly to his chest. “Thanks,” he said quietly, before turning and running back toward the grove, eager to reunite with his friends.

Alex watched him go, ensuring the boy was safely out of sight before turning his attention back to the harpy bodies. He dragged one of the corpses behind a nearby rock, out of sight from any wandering eyes. Placing his hand on the lifeless harpy, Alex allowed his tendrils to emerge, consuming the body with an eerie efficiency.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the area where the harpies had made their nest. They were weak, a simple fusion of bird and human, nothing more. But their song—that could be useful. Perhaps he could integrate it, adapt it for his own purposes.

As he finished consuming the harpy, new information flooded into his mind—knowledge of a larger harpy tribe not far from here, numbering in the hundreds. It was a potential source of biomass if he ever needed it. But first, he had other matters to attend to.

With one last glance at the harpy nest, Alex turned and made his way back toward the grove.

__________

As Alex made his way back to the grove, he decided to take a detour. It was during this quiet moment that his ears caught a sound—someone singing, so off-key it made him wince. The reason why he took the detour ,he followed the sound until he found the source.

There, sitting on a rock, was a young tiefling woman.

The woman had a striking and ethereal appearance, one that commanded attention with its otherworldly beauty. Her skin was a soft, cool shade of lavender, giving her an almost ethereal quality, as if she were sculpted from twilight itself. This hue contrasted beautifully with her deep, dark eyes, which gleamed with an intense orange glow that seemed to burn from within, lacking any visible pupils. Her gaze was both mesmerizing and unsettling, hinting at the power and mystery she held.

Her face was framed by a cascade of wavy hair that blended from a deep, rich purple at the roots to a vibrant magenta at the tips. This dramatic gradient gave her a vivid and striking appearance, the colors vibrant against her pale lavender skin. Her hair was swept back, revealing a pair of large, curved horns that jutted out from her forehead and arched backward. These horns were dark and ridged, with a rough texture that contrasted with the smoothness of her skin.

Her ears were elongated and pointed, adding to her distinctly non-human features. They flared out slightly, the tips tapering to delicate points that added a touch of elegance to her fierce look.

She wore clothing that was intricately designed. The colors of her outfit matched the palette of her skin and hair—soft blues and purples that accentuated her natural coloring while also offering protection. The materials looked sturdy yet supple.

“It sounds like a cat being strangled,” she muttered in frustration, her fingers plucking the lute strings without much conviction.

“Are you alright?” Alex asked, genuinely curious.

She let out a deep sigh. “No, I’m moments away from a grisly death at the hands of this bloody song.”

Alex stifled a laugh, though he couldn’t help it . The harpies had planned to kill her for how bad she was at singing. “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said, though his tone was more comforting than truthful.

“I can’t get it right... nothing works,” she said, her frustration evident in every word.

“Maybe I can help?” Alex offered, stepping closer.

She looked at him with a mix of hope and skepticism. “It can’t hurt, I suppose. I have an extra lute if you want to play along?”

“Sure, but first—what’s the song about?” Alex asked, wanting to understand the source of her struggle.

The woman took a shaky breath, her eyes glazing over with memories. “It’s about my teacher, Lihala. She loved dancing, even though she had two left feet,” she said with a small, sad smile. “I remember waking up one night on the road and seeing her dancing beneath the stars, a huge smile on her face.” Her smile faded, replaced by a deep sadness. “Thinking about it now... it makes my heart ache, and the words... they crumble like ash.”

She paused for a moment, then a light sparked in her eyes. “Wait,” she said, almost to herself. She strummed the lute and began to sing again, her voice carrying the new words she’d just found. “Words of mine will turn to ash... that’s perfect.”

“What would you say to her if she were here?” Alex asked, sensing that this was more than just about finding the right words.

The tiefling looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That... that it’s okay. That I’ll be okay. That’s perfect. Thank you... for everything.”

Alex smiled softly, recognizing the importance of the moment. “Let me get used to the lute. I’m a bit rusty, but I’ll play with you,” he said, taking the lute and strumming it tentatively.

She nodded, her spirits lifting as she watched him. Despite his words, Alex wasn’t as rusty as he claimed. One of the peoples he had consumed had known how to play the lute, and those memories flowed through him now, guiding his fingers.

“I’m ready,” Alex said after a few moments, the lute feeling familiar in his hands.

The woman stood, taking a deep breath before nodding. Together, they began to play, their voices blending as they sang. The song carried the weight of her pain, a bitter-sweet melody that echoed through the grove.

When they finished, she sat down, tears streaming down her face. Alex was moved by the song too, and as he played, memories He had long buried began to surface. Memories of Silver, the dog He once cared for back when He still had feelings, back when He still cared deeply about anything.

Silver wasn’t really his dog—his mother would have beaten him to death if he’d tried to bring him home. No, Silver was a stray, an old, small dog with gleaming silver fur who lived on the streets. Alex and His sister, Dana, had named him Silver and for almost two years, Silver had been their constant companion. He was a beacon of light in their harsh world, his wagging tail and playful barks a source of joy and comfort.

But one day, everything changed. No matter how many times they called for Silver, he didn’t respond. Panic set in, and they searched everywhere until Alex found him, lying lifeless in the old, worn-out box where he slept. The sight of Silver’s still body was a crushing blow, and Alex fought to hold back his tears. He didn’t want Dana to see him cry; he had to be strong for her. He covered Silver’s body with some papers from a nearby bin, a makeshift shroud for their fallen friend. Later, when Dana asked about Silver, Alex lied, telling her someone had adopted him. Dana believed him, and the lie brought her some comfort.

That night, unable to sleep, Alex returned to the place where he had covered Silver. The box was gone, but the emptiness it left behind was profound. He stood there, staring at the spot, the weight of his loss pressing down on him until he finally broke down, sobbing quietly. Losing Silver felt like losing a part of himself, a part that cared, that loved, that felt deeply.

Now, as he looked at woman before him, who had finally stopped crying, Alex felt a connection—a shared understanding of loss and the pain of remembering those who were gone. A part of him, the part that still held onto those buried emotions, stirred.

“That song was beautiful,” Alex said softly, offering her a small, sincere smile, his voice tinged with the echoes of his own sorrow.

“Thanks,” She replied, her voice still shaky. “This is the first time I’ve played since Lihala died... She was playing her lute. We... didn’t hear the gnolls coming. There was so much blood... I can still smell it.”

“I’m sure your teacher would be proud of you.” He said gently, trying to offer her some comfort.

She smiled weakly. “Heh, she would probably yell at me for that clunky verse and make me play until my fingers were raw. And that’s what I’m going to do—finish ‘The Weeping Dawn’ for her. I have a long way to go... but thank you. I needed this.” She glanced at the lute Alex was holding.

“You can keep it,” she said, her voice steadying, a hint of warmth returning.

Alex took off his hood, revealing his face, and gently handed the lute back to her. “I can’t; it would probably get destroyed with me. But I’d like to play together again, if you want, of course.”

She smiled at him, a genuine smile this time. “Of course... but you need to work a bit on your skill. My name is Alfira by the way. I should have introduce myself earlier ” she teased, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“I will . I'm Alex ” He replied, matching her smile. “See you around.” He waved as he turned to leave, feeling a little lighter,