As the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the nearby mountains, Williams' eyes snapped open with a very faint, almost imperceptible pulse of psionic light.
He could hear the unmistakable sound of movement, so he cautiously peered over the edge to see Lae'zel already diligently preparing for the impending battle.
Her warrior instincts, which had been honed since she was old enough to wield a weapon with some proficiency, filled her with an intense sense of urgency as she meticulously gathered supplies that would be invaluable in the ensuing fight.
As she went about her task, the noises she made were quite loud and woke up everyone else in the room.
However, instead of feeling annoyed or offended at being woken up so early, most of the group were actually quite thankful, and they even seemed to be rather looking forward to the impending slaughter of these goblin followers of the Absolute.
Karlach, mid-stretching, suddenly caught William's gaze; a flush creeping up her cheeks, she waved frantically in his direction, all the while making a conscious effort to avoid meeting his eyes.
William's face flushed nearly as crimson as hers as he echoed the action, only to have both Wyll and Astarion seemingly teleport straight to either side of him and then proceed to playfully elbow him in the ribs.
"Ooooh, careful, playing with fire has never been more literal than with that one, hehehe."
Will chuckled, his sound echoing softly, before he patted William on the shoulder and then turned back to his tent, where he began to prepare for battle by equipping his armor and his rapier.
Astarion spun away, his movements mimicking a somewhat awkward yet charming ballroom dance that one might see at a wedding reception.
He ended his routine with a gracefully executed bow and a mischievous wink before promptly turning to gather his own equipment.
William let out a sigh, feeling resigned that he had once again become the target of the morning's teasing.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he turned his attention to his tent and began donning his leather armor, strapping his bandoliers across his chest and securing the Widower to his waist.
William stepped back outside, the morning air cool against his face, carrying the lingering scent of dew, ash, and old stone.
The camp behind him buzzed with quiet readiness.
Armor straps were being tightened, blades checked, nerves hidden beneath ritual.
His gaze drifted forward.
Gale and Shadowheart stood at the base of the massive stone doors leading into the temple, its ancient surface carved with worn celestial motifs.
Time had chewed at the details, but one symbol remained unmistakable, the crescent moon of Selûne etched proudly at the center, defiant even in decay.
Shadowheart stopped dead the moment she truly looked at it.
Her face twisted, lips curling as if she'd bitten into something sour.
Without a word, she turned slightly and spat on the stone at her feet, the glob dark and sharp against the pale dust.
Gale recoiled instantly, hopping back a step with an offended hiss. "By Mystra's good grace, Shadowheart!"
He tugged his robes away from the offending trajectory, inspecting the hem like a wounded noble. "These are enchanted silk. Enchanted silk does not pair well with… whatever personal statement you were making just now."
She shot him a sideways glare, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "If Selûne didn't want my contempt, she shouldn't have plastered her symbol on a goblin-infested ruin."
"That's religious vandalism," Gale muttered, brushing invisible dirt from his sleeve. "Or at the very least, extremely bad manners."
"Call it a reflex," she snapped. "Some of us don't get warm feelings from moonlight and singing."
William slowed as he approached, taking in the tension crackling between them like static.
The door stood directly overhead, its thick, wooden frame showing the signs of age and time, with its seams thick and ancient.
A faint hum emanated from the door, seemingly echoing the prayers that had likely been spoken within its walls for centuries.
Shadowheart noticed him then.
Her expression softened just a fraction, annoyance still there but redirected inward. "Tell me you're not about to start waxing poetic about divine balance," she said flatly. "I've had enough of it for one lifetime."
William glanced at the crescent moon, then back to her. "Wasn't planning on it," he replied. "But I'm guessing this place doesn't exactly put you in a cooperative mood."
Her jaw tightened. "You could say that."
Gale cleared his throat, straightening his posture and placing a hand against the door, his eyes alight with curiosity despite himself.
"Personal grievances aside, this structure predates the Goblin occupation by centuries."
The wards alone are fascinating.
Selûnite craftsmanship has a way of… lingering."
Shadowheart scoffed. "Of course you'd admire it."
As William moved closer to the door, he couldn't help but sense a faint pressure building up at the back of his mind, a feeling that was neither pure psychic nor divine.
It was something ancient and deeply rooted, something that seemed to be watching and listening from the shadows.
"Lingering or not," he said, voice steady, "it's in our way. And judging by the noises coming from the other side, the Absolute's pets aren't going to move themselves."
Shadowheart's hand drifted to her mace. "Good. Then let's defile it properly."
Gale sighed, already resigned. "I miss libraries," he muttered.
Above them, the symbol of Selûne pulsed subtly, its ethereal light radiating a divine power that none of them seemed to perceive.
Unbeknownst to them, a certain goddess was silently observing them from the shadows.
Lae'zel and Karlach approached William, Gale and Shadowheart followed by Astarion, Wyll and Halsin, all of whom were fully decked out in full battle gear.
With the combined weight of the entire group pressing against the ancient doors, a groan rippled through the wood, and the hinges that had been silent for until recently cried out in unison, protesting the strain.
With a final heave, the gate lurched inward, dust and cold air spilling out like a held breath finally released.
Instead of the immediate chaos that they had anticipated finding, what they actually discovered was something entirely different.
The entry hall that lay directly ahead struck me as being both eerily open and somehow inviting at the same time, as if the goblins themselves, and those who commanded them, were daring them to move further into the temples depths.
Crude barricades, consisting primarily of overturned benches and broken statues, had been strategically positioned, extending further into the nave and creating chokepoints deeper within.
Smoldering torches lined the walls, their flames casting long, twitching shadows in uneven intervals, creating the impression of movement even when there was none to see.
The goblins had fallen back deliberately.
Not routed.
Not panicked.
Prepared.
Karlach let out a sharp crack, the sound sending a ripple of warmth through her skin. "Cowards," she growled under her breath, her voice barely audible above the ambient noise. "Means they're either scared stiff… or they're just trying to be clever."
"Both," Lae'zel replied with a curt nod, her gaze already scanning for angles and potential cover. "Never underestimate a prey animal that chooses to retreat, it can be surprisingly dangerous when cornered."
As the last of them finally stepped across the threshold, the massive, wooden doors shuddered and groaned.
Then slammed shut.
The sound, a deep and powerful boom, filled the temple with an intensity that seemed to vibrate through the very stone and and divine scripture that comprised its walls.
Dust cascaded from the ceiling in pale curtains.
For a moment, no one spoke.
William felt it immediately.
The air inside was wrong.
It wasn't just the fact that it felt stale or cold, but there was also a distinct weightiness to it, as if the space itself was leaning inward, as if it were listening intently.
His psionic senses picked something up, a distant, sharp presence, then his senses recoiled, the feeling being like fingers grazing against something sharp concealed within velvet.
Gale swallowed, his voice coming out in a rather weak and hesitant manner. "Well," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "that is… certainly encouraging."
To the rear, hidden from view and utterly unacknowledged, a figure remained completely motionless, standing high above the temple grounds where the cliffs met the thinning tree line.
While it was clearly skeletal in its appearance, there was a sense of life, a faint vibrancy, about it that was unlike the lifeless quality associated with true bone structures.
A dried, husk-covered frame stretched taut, the remnants of flesh still clinging to it like old, parchment-like material.
Its eyes held a pale, almost ethereal glow, reflecting an ancient intelligence that was both powerful and patient.
Around the central area where the grass stood, it was beginning to turn yellow and was collapsing inward, as if life itself feared lingering too long in its vicinity.
The figure tilted its head slightly, its gaze fixed on the tiny figures as they vanished into the stone and shadow.
As it spoke, the sound wasn't so much something you could feel traveling through the air as it was something that seemed to imprint itself upon the world, forming a layered chorus of voices that spoke of decay and the inevitable.
"So it begins."
The words sank into the earth.
Leaves curled.
Insects fell silent.
And suddenly, the thing shifted, its shape melting away with incredible speed and grace into the very shadow cast by a large tree nearby. It vanished completely as though it had never even been there in the first place.
Below, deep within the temple, the group pressed onward.
The group moved forward at a very slow, deliberate pace, their boots making a soft, whispering sound as they navigated their way around the barricades.
Each overturned pew and shattered statue, instead of providing cover, felt more like bait, arranged with a careless speed but with a deliberate and calculated intent.
William moved near the front, his senses stretched thin in all directions.
His eyes followed the shadows that danced across the wall, his mind, however, held something far colder, a pressure building inside him, a feeling that seemed to swell and subside like a breath held tightly.
Too quiet.
Even the torches, usually so bright and confident, seemed to be hesitant, their flames flickering and guttering as if they were unsure whether they were welcome in this space.
Lae'zel, with a clenched fist, suddenly raised it in the air, causing the entire party to stop dead in their tracks.
To the right, a narrow entryway split the nave, effectively transforming it into little more than a rib-like corridor, carefully carved into the space between thick, stone supports.
Broken masonry littered the ground, and the ceiling dipped just low enough to feel oppressive.
Karlach leaned in, voice barely a rumble. "Feels like a throat."
They took three steps past it.
The air screamed.
From the shadows, arrows erupted in all directions, their iron heads letting out a piercing shriek as they tore through the darkness.
One landed with a dull thunk into a barricade inches from Wyll's face.
Another shattered against Lae'zel's raised blade, sending up sparks that danced like fireflies in the dim light.
"Contact!" William roared out, his voice ringing with determination as he pulled the Widower from its sheath, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light.
The temple exploded into motion.
Shadowheart swore under her breath as an arrow narrowly missed her pauldron.
Instinctively, a burst of divine shadow-light erupted from her, and she quickly raised her shield, calling upon the might of her patron goddess.
Astarion vanished into motion, spinning around behind a cover as a shaft punched straight through the stone wall, the very spot where his head had been just a heartbeat before.
Karlach let out a sharp, feral laugh, her eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity.
She barreled forward, her movements swift and powerful, and tore an arrow clean from her arm without even slowing down. "Rude little bastards!" she snarled, her voice filled with contempt.
More arrows followed. From above. From the balconies.
William felt one coming before he saw it.
He twisted, the arrow grazing past his ribs instead of finding purchase.
His psionic senses were screaming warnings at him, a cacophony of overlapping threats, each one building upon the next like discordant notes.
"Gale!" Wyll called. "Anytime now would be great!"
Gale held his ground against the chaos, his eyes wide with shock but his gaze unwavering and focused.
His hands snapped into precise, almost surgical motion as he sketched sigils in the air, the raw arcane energy coalescing around him, thick and palpable, as if Mystra herself was in the room with him.
"Enough," he hissed, voice suddenly sharp as broken glass.
Three bolts of light, each brilliant and unwavering, shot forth from his hands.
Magic Missile screamed upward, arcing with an impossible degree of precision.
The first magic arrow slammed directly into a goblin perched high up along the eastern ledge.
The impact was so forceful that it effectively folded the goblin's body backward, making it resemble wet parchment before the creature vanished from sight.
Following right behind them, the second and third shots echoed through the night, each one striking its mark with a chilling certainty.
One goblin was yanked clear from its perch, its limbs flailing frantically, before it finally crashed onto the stone below with a sickening crack.
Another was discovered simply gone from its usual spot, leaving only a thin smear of green and red paint across the wall in its wake.
Silence followed, abrupt and stunned.
Several stray arrows landed harmlessly on the floor as the surviving goblins, overcome by panic, abandoned their positions, discipline replaced by chaos.
William exhaled slowly, pulse still hammering.
He glanced up at Gale, who lowered his hands with a shaky breath, his face flushed and a thin, satisfied smile finally gracing his lips.
"Pure force," Gale muttered. "No explosive mess... Relatively speaking of course."
Karlach wiped goblin blood from her cheek and grinned. "Do that again."
Lae'zel took a quick look over the edge of the upper ledges, her blade still held high in readiness. "They're testing us," she stated with a chilly tone. "Now they understand we're not to be trifled with."
William's gaze lingered on the shadows above him, the lingering weight of his psionic senses still very much present, still intently listening for any unexpected movements.
He spoke softly, saying, "Let's continue moving forward. This temple isn't through with us just yet." They pressed on further and moved deeper into the sacred structure of the temple.