[i'm throwing us right into it, we're opening a door and are yeeted into the funhouse.
The mirrors lead you and Shadowheart down a path that shows a similar descent into a dark underground temple. The twisting path heads further into the dark, until the reflections that show back to you are only lit by the dim glow of purple lamps.
Shadowheart and three of her traveling companions - Gale, Karlach, Astarion - stand before an altar made of stone, glowing purple. On the altar, an inscription reads, “Brave the Gauntlet of Lady Shar, Surmount Her Trials and Rise a Dark Justiciar.”
The mirrors on the opposite sides of the room reflect other memories, other moments. They’re hazy and dark, you can’t even quite make out what’s down that way, as though parts of the mirrors are hidden from view. But you see reflected in them the story of the Gauntlet of Shar, a legendary place - a secret temple to the goddess buried deep underground in a massive cavern. There, her truest servants will prove their devotion to her by undergoing trials and will be rewarded. You see reflections of Shadowheart asking a woman, whose face is wreathed in shadow, for permission to prove herself, to show that she’s worthy of being made a Dark Justiciar, and being rejected again and again. But the rest of the memories you find that way are dark, and hidden, and there’s a feeling of dread if you even think to approach that particular hallway. There is something quite bad down there.
The better lit path ahead shows the four adventurers still at the ledge overlooking the temple, discussing their options. Shadowheart tries to explain to them what you just saw reflected on other mirrors.
“In order to join Lady Shar’s elite, you had to pass her trials, and then make a sacrifice in her innermost sanctum when you’ve proven yourself. Very few make it that far.”
But all of them are clearly uneasy, not knowing what the sacrifice will be or what it would even mean for Shadowheart to be a Dark Justiciar, other than that she professes it is her innermost desire to do so.
“I’ve dreamed of this place,” she insists, harsh. “This is my destiny.” And then she softens slightly, looking all of them over. Karlach worried, Gale suspicious, Astarion interested in something else that can be found here and skeptical of whatever it is she’s asking. “You know me better than most,” she admits to them, more vulnerably. “But I need to find out whether I’m worthy.”
The skepticism is still there, so she adds - “If I prove myself to Lady Shar, she’ll bless me with power we can use to fight the Absolute, and rid ourselves of these parasites once and for all. Please.”
Other flashes on the walls of other mirrors. A relic buried at the bottom of the temple. The Nightsong, the key to Ketheric Thorne’s immortality. A directive, from a stern, no-nonsense woman with two swords. Find it and destroy it, so Ketheric can be stopped. An image of a fortress, Moonrise Towers, ruled over by a cruel man who cannot die and an army he has absolute control over. Whatever Shadowheart is after, it’s not the only reason to continue. There’s something else important here.
You follow more twisting paths. Despite the reluctance, Shadowheart’s friends help her pass the trials. Puzzles, tests of wit and skill. And at the end of the gauntlet, there is another altar, made a stone, where Shadowheart insists she be the one to cut her hand with a knife and let blood drip down. The altar reveals the prize inside.
From the altar, Shadowheart collects a spear. She’s distracted, and the other side of the mirror reflects back the feelings. Lady Shar herself, encircling, embracing, a presence felt only by Shadowheart, which she does not mention to the others, even as her obvious awe and fear both grow. “I just feel we’re on the right track,” she says, her voice shaky. “I’m right where I need to be, under Lady Shar’s gaze.”
And despite her misgivings, she goes deeper into the temple. Once they reach the bottom of the temple, arriving at a statue of Lady Shar and a deep pool of water with stairs descending down below, words suddenly are spoken, ones that only Shadowheart can hear. One more test before you. Descend to the Nightsong. Make a sacrifice. Rise a Dark Justiciar..
She kneels before the statue and begins to pray.
The final threshold. You made it, Shadowheart, just as I knew you would. Despite these words also echoing all around, once again only Shadowheart appears to hear this.. Now all you must do is step forwards, and the rest will prove simple.
What do you need of me? Shadowheart’s prayer.
Nothing you are not capable of. The punishing of a wicked Selûnite. All you must do is use my spear to end her light. And then you will become a Dark Justiciar, blessed with my power. You will become my voice to those embrace me, and my sword arm against those who would do me harm.
I will. I will not fail you.
The others ask if she heard something, but she lies, says she was just communing with her goddess, paying respect.
The four descend into the pool and arrive iin another realm entirely, a void of dark shadows, clouds, rocks from some ruin in swirling nothingness, dark purple lightning occasionally lighting up the otherwise murky sky. The Shadowfell, the realm of Lady Shar.
“See my actions, Lady Shar,” Shadowheart prays, speaking out loud now. It seems almost like something she’s doing to calm her nerves, focus her thoughts. “Hear my words of faith. Blessed Nightsinger, witness my adoration. I have emptied my heart of falsehoods. I have vanquished your foes. Lady Shar’s will shall be done, as sure as night shall fall.”
In the platform down below, in the center of it, is a woman. A circle of light surrounds her, and you know that is her prison as much as the chains she is held by. She is a beautiful woman, tall and strong, with pale skin with cracks of gold flecked through it and white hair. But captivity has not been kind to her. She is in rags, dirty, wounded and broken.
More images again on other walls. This woman, called the “Nightsong,” has been kept prisoner here for a century by a necromancer who has sapped the strength and power she was born with for that long to transfer it to the man who rules Moonrise Towers, Ketheric Thorne. But the necromancer is dead now. No one is holding her anymore, except for the spell he cast which has not dissipated.
(Video of this part is here to 2:44, though some stuff is different with dialogue choices and this being an origin playthrough)
“I have felt you come, Sharran” she says, her voice hoarse. “The first in a century.” She looks at Shadowheart directly, expression on her face defiant despite how weak she is. “You, who have come to seek the praise of your wicked goddess. You, who have come to drive a dagger through my heart. Go on, show it to me. Your sword, your knife.” She lunges at you, and she’s held back by her prison.
My spear, child. Shar’s voice also echoes, something only Shadowheart can hear. Pierce her heart with it and become my sword hand, my Dark Justiciar.
“Not a dagger,” Shadowheart spits back, defiant. “A spear. My Lady Shar’s spear.”
“Well, well, well,” she says. “A spear empowered by your goddess to kill the child of a God?” Her voice is furious, dripping with contempt. “But there is much your mistress does not tell you. My death will come at a terrible price, one you will not grasp until it is too late.”
Shadowheart is not alone in this memory. Her companions have stayed silent, maybe surprised by what Shadowheart is doing, but they are looking as though they’re planning to interfere. At least Gale and Karlach are probably not willing to see her murder a woman in cold blood who is currently in chains.
“Her fate is mine to seal alone,” Shadowheart snaps at them.
“The fate you seal is your own,” the woman says. Her voice has lost some of its temper, trying to persuade now. “To be a Dark Justiciar is to turn your heart from everything but loss. You will know no love, no joy, only servitude. Until, of course, your mistress inevitably discards you.”
Shadowheart is still fierce, looking at the woman like she plans to kill her, but if you know her well, if you’re familiar enough to pick up on smaller changes, there’s hesitation, too. What she’s being told is breaking through to her in some way, she’s just resisting it.
“Do you know what I am, little assassin?” the woman, anger back in her voice. “I am Dame Aylin. Out of this hellish realm, I carry my sword for my mother, Selûne. The very sight of me would disgust you if you were a true Sharran. But perhaps you are something more.”
And then Shar’s voice. Shadowheart, do not listen. She seeks to distract, to confuse, to prolong her unholy existence and deny you your destiny. Shut out her words.
There’s another hallway through the house of mirrors that opens at these two conflicting messages. A path through the mirrors, dark, but lit by moonlight; Shadowheart looks down that way, but does not move to travel there. The mirrors in that direction reflect something much older than she is, an ancient war between the goddess of darkness and her sister, the moon goddess. The battles fought in that war, the pieces used, the way one goddess might seek to gain the upper hand against another.
But Shadowheart is focused on Dame Aylin, who is watching her as though she suddenly recognizes her. “Yes, I know you,” she says, as though she’s seen something suddenly. “A lost child, frightened by wolves in the dark.”
Another hallway through the house of mirrors opens in the other direction. And there’s a sense of terror about what lies down that direction. It’s too dark to see that way, but there’s a sound of snarling, howling. There’s pain in that direction. There might be more that way than only pain, but the way is too dark and there’s no way to tell.
Aylin is still speaking. “Much has been promised to you, hasn’t it?” she asks. “But what has been taken from you? What do you know of your own heart, your own life?”
Shadowheart looks down that direction, almost as though she intends to travel that way. There’s a part of her that wants to, wants to see it, and there’s a part of her that’s very, very afraid. She changes her mind, turns away from it. Gathers her resolve.
“Whatever you think you know of me won’t matter,” she says, but she’s faltering a little. “Once I become who I’m meant to be.”
“If you lay your hand on me in friendship, free me,” Aylin says, “I will lay another path before you. But you must decide whether to walk it.”
Enough. Close your heart to her craven words. Strike! Shar’s voice, brokering no more argument, no more hesitation.
“There she is again, isn’t she?” she says, looking directly back at Shadowheart. “Why does she fear truth more than I fear death?”
Reflections on the other mirrors - memories, only half formed, of fear, of duty, of the need to obey. Of kneeling on a stone floor, body growing weak, reciting prayers until they’re right. Of pain. Of growing strong enough to endure it, and the pride in that. Of being told lies and learning to always believe them anyway.
Shadowheart calls the spear to her hands.
There are two directions to take out of the memory, one where Shadowheart plunges the spear into the woman's heart and another where she takes the spear and tosses it off the side of the platform, lets it fall into the abyss. You can decide which one seems like the right path, or else you can explore somewhere else, one of the other avenues that opened up while exploring the memory.
well, uruha is not really into stabbing chained women, so he is going to avoid that option. he has no interest in ancient battles, so that's not a particular consideration.
he looks down at the spear in his hands, contemplating, before he decides that he's never had much to lose anyway. turning away, he heads down the path that's too dark to see, with howling.]
[shadowheart is still here, in the heart of this particular memory, but uruha takes a turn and heads down the path. she looks after him, nervous - curious but also afraid of what might be down there.
the chained woman had alluded to something - to knowing who shadowheart was, to knowing a lost girl surrounded by wolves. the mirrors in this area show the faint pieces of memory that brings back.
uruha isn't in the memory itself, but rather he's seeing pieces of it. half-remembered moments, dreams. a girl without any memories of her childhood except for one, a persistent nightmare. lost in the forest, with a snarling wolf chasing after her, a memory that was so terrifying that it seemed to break through whatever was hiding the rest of her memories from her. a group of women in robes and masks found the lost girl, drove the wolf away with spears, took her to safety.
but that's just the dream-like fragments that are visible. the woman in chains was alluding to something more.
at the end of the hallway, another piece of the memory can be seen. the sharrans with their spears attack the wolf, piercing him. he collapses to the ground with a pitiful yelp of pain, and then he transforms - a werewolf who turns back into an older elven man.]
...I don't know this part. I don't know what this is.
[the unspoken question is mostly right. she wanted to know, but she is afraid.]
I don't understand.
[the fact that this wolf is actually a person and maybe even a person she knows is not a fact that makes any more sense to her than it would to him. other i guess than the general fact that people turning into animals isn't like, unheard of in her world, but besides that, she does not have context for this, either.
this memory can't continue any further, though. the little girl can't see anymore, so she doesn't know what happened to the man other than a last memory of him surrounded by the women with spears.
shadowheart winces, hard, and holds her hand close to her chest as pain overtakes her.]
... I know this is part of your religious practices, but I really don't think you should be punished for something like this. Why aren't you supposed to know about this?
…You don’t have to be polite about my religious practices.
[she doesn’t talk about it so openly but she knows it’s not good.]
Theoretically, this is my bond with Lady Shar. She represents darkness, absence, loss. As her acolyte, I am training my mind to be able to embrace her. I surrendered my connections to anything but my faith, I accepted a bond with her that will remind me to turn my mind away from things that would distract me from worshipping her. Truly embracing Lady Shar is not easy. It requires focus, meditation, prayer. These sacrifices are no different than an adherent of another religion taking a vow of poverty, or of celibacy. Once the mind of an acolyte is trained, even the pain itself will be transcended. It won’t hurt anymore.
That’s one theory. The other one is that my memories were taken and this wound induced in me to control me, to keep me from questioning, to keep me compliant and dependent.
[and she’s starting to have a sense of which one she believes is true.]
Still. Either way, there’s no solution to the pain but to endure, and endure it I can.
[thinks of his very devout teacher who also basically broke every one of his buddhist vows at some point or another.]
You'd think that if training your mind was the point, it'd prove more sincere if it was by your own willpower and not 'cause you received a nasty shock every time you strayed...
[half-muttering.]
... All right. [he'll take her word for it, regarding enduring the pain.] Though, where does that leave you now? I don't have a great feeling about that rite of passage, to be honest.
She seemed to know something about me. She felt familiar, oddly so, and she referenced the wolves. It’s one of the only things I can really remember. [she dreams about the wolf often enough.] I’m not sure how much she really knew, but I was curious enough to consider defying Lady Shar.
But it didn’t go well. I died. I never learned any of the answers she promised, I never had the chance to try a different path. And when I arrived here, I felt that there were some signs that maybe Lady Shar would accept be back if I made up for what I did. So I was considering it, considering trying to change my decision.
But the more I think about it and talk about it, the more I feel that maybe even if I can’t get the answers I hoped for from Aylin, breaking away from Lady Shar may be for the best. Especially if all those things I lost are things she took from me on purpose… if I really wasn’t just an orphan, if someone wanted me and she took me anyway…
[oh. Well. That’s quite a lore drop for her, though by now she’s seen bits and pieces of enough that it doesn’t come as a complete shock, just an ugly confirmation of what she’s been beginning to suspect.]
… I see. It’s true, then. They abducted me.
[all that time, believing she was an orphan, unwanted by anyone other than Shar. all of it was just a lie. But she’ll explain to him the piece that makes this make sense.]
There was an old - well, I was told it was propaganda, a lie spread by Selǔnites. But supposedly, Sharrans would abduct Selǔnite children and turn them to Shar, a way to weaken Selǔne and demonstrate her superiority.
[sometimes people do........ unfortunately (?) this is not one of those]
... Specific reason. I was contracted to an Enchanted Blade, which fell in the Hishaku's hands. But because of my Eternal Contract, I was the only person in the world who could use its power—and the contract ends only in death.
It's not as serious as it sounds—it just means that I'm technically the sole owner of the blade for as long as I live, even if it's not in my possession.
The only real price is that I gave up my ability to use sorcery, since I don't have the spirit energy capacity for both that and the blade's powers.
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week 3; monday
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well, uruha is not really into stabbing chained women, so he is going to avoid that option. he has no interest in ancient battles, so that's not a particular consideration.
he looks down at the spear in his hands, contemplating, before he decides that he's never had much to lose anyway. turning away, he heads down the path that's too dark to see, with howling.]
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the chained woman had alluded to something - to knowing who shadowheart was, to knowing a lost girl surrounded by wolves. the mirrors in this area show the faint pieces of memory that brings back.
uruha isn't in the memory itself, but rather he's seeing pieces of it. half-remembered moments, dreams. a girl without any memories of her childhood except for one, a persistent nightmare. lost in the forest, with a snarling wolf chasing after her, a memory that was so terrifying that it seemed to break through whatever was hiding the rest of her memories from her. a group of women in robes and masks found the lost girl, drove the wolf away with spears, took her to safety.
but that's just the dream-like fragments that are visible. the woman in chains was alluding to something more.
at the end of the hallway, another piece of the memory can be seen. the sharrans with their spears attack the wolf, piercing him. he collapses to the ground with a pitiful yelp of pain, and then he transforms - a werewolf who turns back into an older elven man.]
...I don't know this part. I don't know what this is.
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he stares at the man, taking a step towards the memory as though he could enter it.]
... You don't recognize him?
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[though she sounds uncertain of that. he's an older elven man with long dark hair, and the resemblance to shadowheart is pretty obvious.
she hasn't taken a step closer, but she hasn't tried to back away, either.]
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Are you okay?
[though the question is really more, "are you worried about what might be ahead?"]
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[the unspoken question is mostly right. she wanted to know, but she is afraid.]
I don't understand.
[the fact that this wolf is actually a person and maybe even a person she knows is not a fact that makes any more sense to her than it would to him. other i guess than the general fact that people turning into animals isn't like, unheard of in her world, but besides that, she does not have context for this, either.
this memory can't continue any further, though. the little girl can't see anymore, so she doesn't know what happened to the man other than a last memory of him surrounded by the women with spears.
shadowheart winces, hard, and holds her hand close to her chest as pain overtakes her.]
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[he dashes towards to her, worry clear over her being in pain.]
What's happening...!?
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[it's just her wound acting up again. sorry for being dramatic. it's gone in a moment.]
Sorry. It always hurts when I remember something I'm not supposed to know about.
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... I know this is part of your religious practices, but I really don't think you should be punished for something like this. Why aren't you supposed to know about this?
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[she doesn’t talk about it so openly but she knows it’s not good.]
Theoretically, this is my bond with Lady Shar. She represents darkness, absence, loss. As her acolyte, I am training my mind to be able to embrace her. I surrendered my connections to anything but my faith, I accepted a bond with her that will remind me to turn my mind away from things that would distract me from worshipping her. Truly embracing Lady Shar is not easy. It requires focus, meditation, prayer. These sacrifices are no different than an adherent of another religion taking a vow of poverty, or of celibacy. Once the mind of an acolyte is trained, even the pain itself will be transcended. It won’t hurt anymore.
That’s one theory. The other one is that my memories were taken and this wound induced in me to control me, to keep me from questioning, to keep me compliant and dependent.
[and she’s starting to have a sense of which one she believes is true.]
Still. Either way, there’s no solution to the pain but to endure, and endure it I can.
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You'd think that if training your mind was the point, it'd prove more sincere if it was by your own willpower and not 'cause you received a nasty shock every time you strayed...
[half-muttering.]
... All right. [he'll take her word for it, regarding enduring the pain.] Though, where does that leave you now? I don't have a great feeling about that rite of passage, to be honest.
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No. I don’t think it’s a great idea.
[she sighs.]
She seemed to know something about me. She felt familiar, oddly so, and she referenced the wolves. It’s one of the only things I can really remember. [she dreams about the wolf often enough.] I’m not sure how much she really knew, but I was curious enough to consider defying Lady Shar.
But it didn’t go well. I died. I never learned any of the answers she promised, I never had the chance to try a different path. And when I arrived here, I felt that there were some signs that maybe Lady Shar would accept be back if I made up for what I did. So I was considering it, considering trying to change my decision.
But the more I think about it and talk about it, the more I feel that maybe even if I can’t get the answers I hoped for from Aylin, breaking away from Lady Shar may be for the best. Especially if all those things I lost are things she took from me on purpose… if I really wasn’t just an orphan, if someone wanted me and she took me anyway…
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... When you were a kid last week, you said you were from a place called Moonhaven. A town outside the temple of Selǔne.
[which, now, he has more context for what that is.]
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… I see. It’s true, then. They abducted me.
[all that time, believing she was an orphan, unwanted by anyone other than Shar. all of it was just a lie. But she’ll explain to him the piece that makes this make sense.]
There was an old - well, I was told it was propaganda, a lie spread by Selǔnites. But supposedly, Sharrans would abduct Selǔnite children and turn them to Shar, a way to weaken Selǔne and demonstrate her superiority.
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Oh.
[oh. that's pretty fucking awful! he's not sure where to start unpacking with that.]
... Then that wolf—that man—was...
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[god. she doesn't know. her father? some other family member? but she just. doesn't know.]
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[it feels cruel to think about, especially without knowing what became of him.]
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[which is depressing, too, but so would finding out be.
anyway please give me an uruha memory too.]
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Is there a reason they want to kill you, or just one of those things?
[sometimes people do just try to kill you.]
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... Specific reason. I was contracted to an Enchanted Blade, which fell in the Hishaku's hands. But because of my Eternal Contract, I was the only person in the world who could use its power—and the contract ends only in death.
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It's not as serious as it sounds—it just means that I'm technically the sole owner of the blade for as long as I live, even if it's not in my possession.
The only real price is that I gave up my ability to use sorcery, since I don't have the spirit energy capacity for both that and the blade's powers.
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