Chapter Text
I’m not dreaming, that much I’ve confirmed. I pulled a brain from a skull, freed a woman from a pod, killed an imp, fled a devil and crash-landed on a beach, all bones intact and unbroken. I saw my face through the eyes of a githyanki. It wasn’t my face, or at least I don't think it was. My hair is now long and silver, my ears pointed, my skin a shade of purple and my eyes a faded red, almost pink. I’m pretty sure I’m a drow, and I’m pretty sure I’m a bard; the rather colourful outfit suggests as much. Apart from that, I have nothing, except every single memory from the five hundred and twenty hours I have spent playing this game. That, and a name; the Dark Urge.
I have been isakaied, fucking isakaied, into Baldur’s Gate Three.
My mind is racing with a thousand different thoughts, but the loudest one is how I get out of here. I know this game inside out, but my time on the nautiloid made it very clear that this isn’t a game at all. There’s no save scumming, when I get hit it hurts and real life is not turn-based. That imp did not wait for me to hit it with my crossbow before it tried to take a chunk out of my face. Since the crash, I've been miraculously healed, but I can feel my cranium friend crawling around behind my right eye.
‘Gods, Bertie, simmer for five minutes.’ But it doesn’t listen to me, squirming around in there as if it's trying to force its way out of my skull. It senses its own, and it knows Shadowheart is waiting just up the beach.
Along with my new illithid friend, I have a horrifically painful headache. It feels like a chunk of my head is missing and has been replaced with an aching, pounding void. Of course, I know exactly what's caused this. There's a corpse just up the beach and I know it's the surest way to silence any lingering doubts. But I’m scared. Certain implications come with being the Dark Urge, certain histories, certain potential futures, and none of them are particularly appealing. So instead, I look away from the body, my gaze drifting out to sea.
It's a relief to be out of the nautiloid, to smell fresh air and be able to clear my head. I know I need to find Shadowheart soon; my death will be very speedy without the artefact and the illithid hiding inside. But I also need to get my head straight. I have no idea who I am outside of this game, what my name is, what my life was like, what’s waiting for me if anything at all. It’s strange; I know there is something else, another world, another me, but it exists in my mind as a collection of truths, not as a memory. It's as if someone has forced a very specific, very specialised encyclopedia into my head. There is no context. No emotion. Nothing but the facts.
‘Pull yourself to…’ I stop myself before I finish the mumbled sentence. It feels... odd.
With a shake of my head, I dismiss my wandering thoughts. It's better to focus on Shadowheart and the game itself. If I can start making my way through the narrative, maybe I'll be able to figure something out. Either way, there’s a ticking time bomb in my skull and a long road ahead until any kind of freedom.
I take a dip in the sea first, trying to clean myself up. It feels nice to get some of the brine and blood off my face, but it won’t come out of my clothes or my hair. I sigh. It's another reminder that this is definitely not a game. Side-stepping the corpse, I make my way over to Shadowheart. The artefact is sitting in the sand beside her, but I’m not an idiot. I need a healer. I need a cleric.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I give her a firm shake. She doesn’t wake up at first, murmuring things under her breath, but with a few taps to the cheek and another shake, she starts awake.
‘You’re alive. I’m alive. How is that possible...’ She trails off as I help her stand up.
It’s not the first time we've met; I saved her on the nautiloid, as all good players should. But I’m struck again by the differences in her appearance. Her hair is dark, reflective of the sun, but almost none of it still sits in her intricate, chained ponytail. It’s a mess, as can be expected after falling from a crashing alien spaceship, and her fringe is stuck to her face in odd places. I don’t recall the scar, but she has one across her cheek and her nose. It’s prominent, a little discoloured. Despite it, perhaps even because of it, she’s beautiful. Stony-faced and sharp-eyed, but beautiful. And there is something... otherworldly about her, something small and easy to miss. Probably her eyes. I’ve never seen eyes that green before.
I look at the artefact, still sitting there in the sand, and wonder how much to tell her. The reason we are alive is because of our illithid guardian, but she likely won’t believe me. So, I push the thoughts aside. It's better to focus on building trust as opposed to revealing any suspicious-sounding secrets.
‘That doesn’t matter. What matters is we are alive.’ My voice surprises me again. It’s deep, deeper than seems familiar to me, but I try not to let it show on my face. ‘And what we need is a healer.’ Shadowheart nods her head.
‘You’re right. We may have escaped, but we still have these little monsters in our heads.’ As she says this, I can't help my small smile. The way she pronounces the word ‘monsters’ plays through my head, so particular to her. It really is Shadowheart. It feels strange again for a moment, but I try to shake it off.
‘It’s probably best if we team up. A parasite shared is a parasite...’ I stop myself, suddenly remembering that I’m stealing someone else’s line.
‘I couldn’t think of better company.’ She nods at me by way of introduction. ‘I’m Shadowheart.’
‘I’m…’ I trail off, realising that I don’t actually know my own name. The emptiness of my brain seems to echo as I try searching for something, anything, that seems familiar. But the longer I stand there, face blank, saying nothing, the stranger I look. With a sigh, I give up. ‘Durge. You can call me Durge.' Shadowheart gives me a quizzical look, more a result of my prolonged silence rather than my name.
‘It’s a pleasure.’
‘Likewise. And don’t forget that.’ With a jut of my chin, I motion to the artefact by her feet. I look at it for a moment, thinking, before deciding to say something. ‘It did a little... thing, when we were falling. Saved our lives, I think. You should keep it close.’
Shadowheart scowls at the artefact, then turns the scowl to me as she pockets the prism. The suspicion radiating off her is intense, and it causes me to take a literal step back. I don’t like it. I need her to trust me. I shouldn’t have said anything. This will be a lot harder in real life than it ever was in-game.
‘That’s none of your concern.’ She almost spits the words at me, her tone vicious. I simply nod.
‘You’re right.’ As I say this, she softens, and I let go of the breath I’ve been holding. ‘Let’s go. There are likely other survivors, and we’ll need the help.’
‘I’m not as eager as you to trust people I’ve never met, but lead the way.’ Shadowheart's tone is a little condescending, and it’s impossible not to smile. It's so like the cleric to be wary and untrusting. ‘One thing, before we go.’ She reaches out to me, her hand touching my shoulder lightly. I turn to face her expectantly. ‘Thank you again, for freeing me.’ She opens her mouth to continue, but I stop her.
‘It's not necessary. We need each other. That'll be thanks enough.’ There is a moment of silence, and I can see a series of emotions cross Shadowheart’s face. The scowl returns briefly, but it doesn’t stay long. After another moment, she nods.
I look out towards the beach. There are bodies littered everywhere, blood and rubble mixed in with the sand. It’s a beautiful day, but there's the sound of fire and falling debris in the background. This is the beginning. I need to get through this game without dying. I need to keep everyone else alive. And I need to figure out how I ended up here and hopefully, find a way out.