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scuttlingcrab · 2 months

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Mortals

A Warlock is Born

Summary: Korrilla summons Raphael to aid her in a fight at the Devil’s Fee. Raphael recruits a new warlock to his cause.

Notes: This is part of an ongoing collection of short stories focusing on Raphael and the mortals who have impacted him throughout his existence. Each little story loosely ties into the main plot of Baldur’s Gate 3. The second part will be out soon!

The first story, The Curse of Lady Luck, can be found here. You do not need to read them in order, as each story is stand-alone.

(Image via breadandbloodybutter)

Raphael’s spine tingled when he felt Korrilla’s summons. There was a sharp tug at his chest, attempting to pull him towards her requested destination. Not now, imprudent creature. He anchored himself in his chair, falling back into a trance as he stared at his latest painting. His eyes danced over the thick swirling brush strokes and the vibrant oranges and reds of the setting sun.

He had positioned his easel on a hill near Neverwinter, a superb location overlooking the Trackless Sea. Raphael’s preferred spot for seclusion and indulging in mortal leisure pursuits, one of his many guilty pleasures.

The sky was ablaze around Raphael but there was no blistering heat. Instead it was juxtaposed with a gentle breeze that cooled his skin as he watched the sun disappear behind the horizon. There was no equivalent in Avernus, where the raging skies barely changed save for a sparse cloud or two that brought iron rain and the occasional arcane thunderstorm.

Fiery oranges clashed with dark blues and light purples as they fought for the dying attention of the sun. The ocean waves were calm, mirroring the chaos in the skies so perfectly that it looked like an infinite void. Raphael’s mouth salivated as he took it in. He must capture it all, a perfect addition to his ever growing art collection.

Raphael carefully picked up his paintbrush, as if it might crumble with the slightest change of pressure, and dabbed the tip of it in paint. The final stroke. As Raphael brought the brush to his canvas, Korrilla’s second summons tore through his body. He winced as his chest heaved forward, nearly sending him tumbling down the hill. His body flickered between both locations, a loud ringing pierced the air as he got glimpses of Korrilla’s face and the Devil’s Fee; her eyes frenzied, lips tight, she tried shouting something at him but Raphael snarled in response. Her image dissolved as he fought to stay centred in Neverwinter.

When Raphael blinked again, he found himself on the ground and the canvas in tatters beneath him. Raphael had punched a hole through the painting during his struggle against Korrilla’s beckoning. His hands trembled as he picked up the demolished canvas. He could fix it with a snap but that would simply be cheating. Raphael’s jaw locked and he dug his heels into the grass, the soil beneath him bubbling like lava.

“Will this infernal torment ever cease!”

Raphael roared, his voice booming throughout the deserted beach, louder than any thaumaturgy spell could ever hope to achieve. His canvas caught fire; his work, his precious sunset, dissolving in an instant. Whatever was left of his wasted afternoon blew away with the next breeze.

Raphael rose, his footsteps scorching the grass as he turned away from the ocean. He raised his arm, preparing to furiously snap his fingers but halted, eyes darting to his sleeves, then to his entire doublet, and trousers. He was covered in paint and dirt, his outfit wrinkled and soiled, as if he was a petty commoner. He huffed, disgusted with himself. How very mortal.

With a snap, Raphael undefiled his clothes, rectifying any hint of failure. He narrowed his eyes, unsure yet of the punishment he would bestow on Korrilla as he vanished into a deafening inferno.

––

“Korrilla! Did I not explicitly–”

Raphael emerged from his fiery portal and was immediately met with a blaze not of his making. Chaos and disorder welcomed him as he stood agape in the entranceway of the Devil’s Fee.

The diabolist shop was in ruin. A massive bookshelf on the far left of the room was the main source of fire; the flames grew, slowly licking their way across the ceiling. Raphael stepped forward, his feet crunching against broken glass and stone rubble from the shattered infernal statues that had once proudly stood high.

One of Helsik’s gilded imps lay mangled in the centre of the room, its body tangled in silk rugs and surrounded by deep claw marks on the parquet flooring. The reception desk was nonexistent, the only remains of the rich mahogany panelling were the sharp splinters scattered across on the floor.

Raphael’s imagination spun like dice as he observed Helsik’s unconscious body discarded in the far back of the shop, a fallen shelf sat atop her small frame. No amateur could get the better of Helsik, surely? Raphael’s interest had piqued, however he found himself gritting his teeth in frustration as he looked around for Korrilla. She would not get out of this so easily, even in death.

There was a loud crash from the second floor, glass shattering and muted sounds of struggling; grunting, kicking, the wood creaking above him with every faint movement. In a heartbeat, Raphael was up the stairs. He crept towards Helsik’s quarters, the door to her room falling off its hinges.

Korrilla was pushed into the far corner of the dining area, her face battered and bruised and her dress nearly burnt to a crisp. A scrawny half-elf gripped a curved dagger at Korrilla’s throat, drawing blood that trailed down her neck. The half-elf had a round youthful face and donned a messy bob. Korrilla outsmarted by that half-breed? A runt of the litter, at best.

Korrilla’s eyes lit up when she spotted Raphael lurking at the threshold. He did not acknowledge her in return, but continued to focus on the half-elf. His pupils dilated, exuberance simmering inside him as he observed this potential new investment.

“What an interesting turn of events.” Raphael proclaimed, as he entered the stage with a swagger.

The half-elf jumped like a spooked rabbit at Raphael’s words, quickly shimmying so that Korrilla’s body was now in front of her. The half-elf squeezed the dagger a bit more into Korrilla’s neck, causing her to grimace.

“Please, don’t let me stop you.” Raphael guffawed, “I do love a good show.”

Korrilla’s brows furrowed and she bit her lip, any ounce of relief Raphael had brought quickly drained from her face.

“What I find most curious… is if Korrilla couldn’t kill you, then you must have some talent. Yes? And besting Helsik? She will not be happy when she wakes. Even so, it is amusing to see the Devil’s Fee in such shambles. I’ve often dreamed of this day.” Raphael suppressed another chuckle.

The half-elf met Raphael’s calm visage with fierce eyes and determination. A creature yet to be tamed. This will be most enjoyable.

“Cat got your tongue? No bother. You will drop that weapon, pretty little thing, before we continue our game.”

“And if I don’t?” The half-elf responded, voice low and quivering.

“I’m afraid you’ll find a very unpleasant end to your miserable little existence. And it will be such a waste, as I hope to make some use out of you.”

The half-elf stared at Raphael, her expression unchanging.

“Did I forget to note that my patience is wearing thin?” Raphael spoke through pursed lips.

Korrilla’s face twisted as Raphael folded his arms, sensing his impending outburst.

The wood underneath Raphael’s feet started to smoke as he took a step forward, leaving charred marks in his wake. The half-elf sniffed the air as Raphael approached, her eyes growing in size. Raphael took another step and transfigured into his cambion form, loosening his neck as his wings filled the available space. His tail thrashed and his horns grated against the ceiling like nails on a chalkboard.

“Drop the weapon.”

The half-elf released the dagger, kicking it across the room. She raised her hands and backed away from Raphael.

“I yield.”

Raphael simpered.

“Wise.”

Korrilla stumbled forward at her release. She held a hand to the wound in her neck muttering a healing spell to seal it.

“And YOU!” Raphael rumbled, louring to Korrilla. “You simply couldn’t take care of this creature? You do not know what I have sacrificed to come to your beck and call. Your worth is diminishing, Korrilla.”

“Please accept my sincerest apologies, Raphael. I await whatever punishment you see fit for my errors.” Korrilla immediately bent the knee, staying submissive and daring not to move even a muscle.

“We will discuss your punishment later.”

Raphael stepped away from Korrilla, edging closer to the half-elf.

“Your name. Now.”

“Dolofina.”

“Dolofina…” Raphael repeated, chewing her name in his mouth.

Raphael raised his hand dramatically above Dolofina. She watched his movement, shrinking away in anticipation. Raphael bared his claws and paused, leaving his hand extended. Just one more moment… let her think it’s the end… Then with a sly smirk, he snapped his fingers and the pair vanished.

––

Raphael and Dolofina materialised in a rain of sparks, dropping into the central chamber of the House of Hope. The large circular table in the middle of the room, usually decorated with platters of delectable food and drink, was bare. A boring sight no less, but he had no time to waste on formalities today.

Dolofina fell to her knees on the polished marble floor, her thump reverberating throughout the vacant halls. Raphael saunted past her, moving towards the wall near the open hearth. He pressed his palm against one of the paintings and it popped open, revealing a hidden bar behind it.

“Your poison of choice?” Raphael asked, as he uncorked a bottle of Jasmarim Shadow, letting it breathe while readying a glass for himself.

Dolofina remained on her knees, panting heavily, her hair slick with sweat. Her face grew paler as she shook her head vigorously at Raphael’s hospitality.

“Oh? Are we not up for celebratory drinks?”

Dolofina floundered to her feet, retching over the balcony.

“Poor creature. Some get used to the sweltering heat of Avernus. Others simply learn to tolerate it. I can’t make any guarantees.”

Raphael poured the wine into his glass, savouring the glugging sound that issued from the bottle. Ah, sweet music. He swirled the beverage gently before bringing his nose close to the rim. He inhaled, smiling to himself before taking a sip.

“Exquisite. Rich and delicate, teases your senses, and makes you crave more, even after the bottle is finished. You can’t find an intoxicant like this anymore.”

Dolofina clung to the railing, dry heaving.

Raphael closed the painting and sat down on the studded leather couch underneath it, crossing his legs. His eyes surveyed Dolofina, observing every inch of her taut body, her once tall figure now reduced from the heat. What a gaunt little thing, and yet with so much joie de vivre.

He never tired of a mortal’s first introduction to the Hells. Most creatures reacted the same way, with their slight variations. Weeping, laughing hysterically at their fates, one poor sod even had a heart attack and expired in front of Raphael; luckily he had been expeditious to secure the deal so the soul wasn’t squandered. Yes, it was quite cruel, but his infernal blood thirst for the entertainment, the anguish. And oh, the mortal perspiration was mouth-watering.

“Pray tell, what was so important in the Devil’s Fee that you had to risk it all?”

Dolofina wiped her lips with the back of her hand before steadying herself against the balcony. She hesitantly removed a large diamond from her pocket, holding it between her thumb and index finger. Raphael lazily flicked a wrist and the diamond flew into his hands. Dolofina shrieked, attempting to grab it back.

“Oh, you’re joking?”

Raphael observed the diamond in his palm, rolling his eyes.

“I… needed money. They said the Devil’s Fee was an easy target.”

Raphael squeezed the diamond and his hand was suddenly engulfed in a white inferno. He watched the fire dance around his hands, the sensation tickling his knuckles, before it turned into a striking blue flame that somehow burned even brighter. He released his fist, the blaze dissolved and the diamond vanished, without even a trace of ash. Raphael rubbed his hands together, that was that.

“Twas worthless anyways. Mortals, always attracted to shiny little things of almost no importance.”

Dolofina stared at Raphael, her face contorted with rage, nostrils flaring. There she is. There’s the fight.

“That was mine. I nearly died retrieving it.”

“Nothing belongs to you anymore. I am not in a generous mood today, yet your antics have inspired me. I can make use of someone like you. Under my employment, you won’t be resorted to thievery.”

“I don’t work with devils.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Dolofina’s new contract appeared on the table with a low hiss, a quill floating beside it. Raphael didn’t even bother snapping his fingers, his painting, or the lack thereof, lurked at the back of his mind; taunting him, the wound stinging his ego.

“Today’s your lucky day. Refuse, and I strike you down where you stand and consume your soul as a measly canapé. Accept, and you get patronage. Power. Proficiency. And a longer life expectancy.”

“And you want what exactly? My soul?”

“Your soul and your cooperation. You will answer to me and act as my agent. There is a war of the millenia brewing and I need all the strongest fighters. You could become a champion, you know, there is a lot of potential.”

Dolofina peered over her shoulder, her eyes darting for any possible escape, a window, a door… that glimmer of hope Raphael loved to see sucked away from mortals still lingered on her face. Say goodbye to hope, little pet.

“Signature please, and your life will begin anew.”

Dolofina bit the side of her lip as she inhaled, looking up at the ceiling, as if pleading to the Gods for a last minute intervention. Her green eyes met his as she dragged her feet towards the table.

“Fucking Nine-Fingers…” Dolofina whispered to herself, “I’ll ring her bloody neck the next time I see her.”

Dolofina sank into one of the leather chairs in defeat, then signed herself away to Raphael.

“I will say this only once. In my house there is decorum. There are rules. There is a balance to uphold. If you make the same mistake as you did above, steal from me, even think about breaking the terms of our contract, you will wish for the sweet release of death by the time I am finished with you. Do not make me regret this decision.”

Raphael waved away the contract and Dolofina instantaneously fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Her body convulsed as if she was bewitched and she writhed in pain, tears pouring down her red cheeks. The veins in her legs briefly pulsed, turning dark purple as it continued to grow, slowly travelling up her body. Her hand reached out, as if seeking Raphael’s aid and instead, shot out a crackling bolt of purple lightning at the ceiling, shattering one of the metal chandeliers. It came crashing down next to Raphael, missing him by mere inches. He titled his head to the floor, eagerly watching his new pet, as he took a sip of wine.

“What the–!” Dolofina screamed again as her body accepted the new torrent of power.

“You will need training. I know the perfect teacher, and I think you’d get along splendidly.”

Will be continued.

#writing #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #bg3 #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #korrilla #mortals #RIP Raphaels painting #raphael #raphael bg3 x reader

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scuttlingcrab · 1 month

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Mortals

A Warlock’s Sacrifice

Summary: Raphael seeks the aid of his prized warlock after he finds an intruder has broken into his House of Hope. Raphael confronts Tav in the aftermath of combat.

Notes: Read a Warlock is Born, if you want to know more about Dolofina and why Raphael is so bitter about that bloody painting. ;)

Warnings: Mild violence, death. Some light angst.

(Image via angellayercake)

Raphael’s garments were soggy, weighing like anchors on his limbs as he sloshed his way through the mud. He was somewhere on the Coast Way, in the middle of nowhere; worlds apart from all the juiciest gossip, political rumblings, and mortal misfortunes that satiated his boredom.

He glowered, grinding his teeth as he approached a body discarded in a ditch. Raindrops sizzled and promptly dissipated upon hitting his forehead. He would have slaughtered any mortal who was unfortunate enough to lay eyes on him in this heinous state.

Raphael had been forced to leave the dinner party in a rush, barely able to dangle the deals he had worked on for a fortnight in front of his budding clients. He would have to sweeten the proposition tenfold the next time he saw them. Raphael would dishonour himself, his blood, his legacy, if he did not. Devil’s never cancelled plans, let alone rescheduled. That thought nearly made Raphael stop in his tracks, shivering with shame, disgust dripping from his shoulders, but he shook it away. Weak, mortal emotions he had no time for this evening.

As Raphael approached the body he paused, tapping it with his pointed boots. Upon getting no response but the sounds of rain drizzling and wind whistling, he tapped it again before proceeding to viciously kick it. Muffled groans escaped the body. He kicked it harder, again and again until the mortal slowly rolled over on their back, revealing their swollen and discoloured face. Dolofina. His prized warlock, reduced to a drunken stupor, no doubt caught in another rowdy pub brawl. How utterly reprehensible.

With a sinister smile, and naturally, just to humour himself, he kicked the half-elf in the ribs a final time. She cursed at Raphael, spitting blood on his boots.

“What a sorry sight you are. I was unaware I had made a pact with such a disgraceful debauchee.”

Dolofina looked up at Raphael, twisting her face in confusion.

“A… what? Why do you bloody devils always speak like that?”

Raphael’s nostrils flared as he stared at Dolofina. Must she always be so difficult!

“An inebriate and an ignoramus. What a charming combination.”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Dolofina hiccuped as she rolled over on her side, gesturing as if to go back to sleep.

“No. We will be having none of that.”

Raphael snapped his fingers and Dolofina appeared on her feet, vigorously swaying, as if stuck on a rocky boat at sea. She desperately grabbed on to Raphael’s arm to keep her balance.

“You’re never any fun. Didn’t Korrilla tell you it’s my night off?”

Raphael’s lips warped in disfavour.

“Do you think this is a game? You will never be so lucky as to be rewarded with a night off. Pah! Always such ludicrous terms with you mortals! So quick to jump at any opportunity if it means you can do nothing but laze about and wait for death.”

Raphael’s skin began to steam. A hazy glow enveloped him as the rain ricocheted off his body.

“You continuously resort to these drunken escapades when you have yet to finish the tasks at hand. When you’re frolicking about this rotten plane you represent me, no matter the location. My honour, my future, is at stake.”

Dolofina recoiled, quickly pulling her hand away from Raphael’s arm. She opened her palm to reveal light burns on her skin.

“Sometimes… I wonder if it was worth making that deal with you.” Dolofina muttered, holding the injured hand to her chest.

Raphael opened his mouth, as if to criticise Dolofina again, to reduce her even lower, but he stopped short. Instead he observed her, crossing his arms.

“If you wish to die, just say the magic words.”

“I’m not rolling over that easily. You’ll have to work harder for this soul.” Dolofina perked up, crookedly smiling at Raphael as she swayed.

Raphael’s eyes widened and he howled with laughter, his cackles roaring through the desolate valleys around them. Such a pitious creature, so blissfully unaware of her fate, so quick to jump to conclusions; to have the gall to think she’s got the upper hand on Raphael. A devil. The future Supreme Master of the Nine Hells.

His laughter trailed off as he applauded Dolofina, clapping vigorously as if he had just finished watching a pantomime.

“Are you done?” Dolofina responded, dryly.

“Oh… you poor little thing. Did I forget to tell you?”

Dolofina’s face quickly grew dim. She tilted her head, eyebrows knitting, as she waited for Raphael’s response.

Raphael cleared his throat, returning to his previously stern composition.

“When you die, your soul is Zariel’s not mine,” Raphael warned, through a sly smirk. “I immediately sold your soul for something far more valuable to my end goals. Profit. Investment. And I’d do it again if I could. Consider it a punishment for my painting.”

Dolofina scoffed and raised a fist towards Raphael, putting her arm back as if to punch him in the mouth.

“You’re a real prick. You still care about that bloody thing?”

Raphael’s stare hardened as he thought back to the painting. The perfect sunset. That precious work of art that would’ve been proudly displayed in his House of Hope only remained but a memory, growing more distant with each passing year. His greatest creation had been taken from him, all thanks to Dolofina and her failed attempt at thievery.

Dolofina took a step towards Raphael and hesitated, fist trembling, as she stared at him with hatred.

“Be grateful you were not turned to ash that day. I provided you with the power that courses through your veins and you get to live another day. To serve me. If you do want your soul back, you’ll have to deal with Zariel. Or don’t, instead waste your potential on cheap liquor and whore yourself about the Sword Coast. Resort yourself to ruin for all I care.”

Dolofina lowered her hand and fell to her knees in the mud, deflating.

Raphael nodded, pleased by this reaction. He relaxed his shoulders, almost relieved he didn’t need to waste the entire evening punishing her. Again. Let her learn the hard way. It was essential to pull the rug from under his pets, tighten their collars, make them panic over whether or not it was truly their last breath. Even his finest creatures needed to be reminded of who was really in charge.

For now Dolofina belonged to Raphael. His magnificent weapon to utilise and mould as he saw fit. She was still oozing with potential, harbouring raw power that he could squeeze out of her before she expired. Raphael always made the most out of his acquisitions, no matter the expiration date. By the time Zariel got Dolofina’s soul, it would be worthless to her.

“The evening is young, and there is work yet to be done. Now, if you will–”

Abruptly the world around Raphael froze, high pitched ringing emerged from the darkness, piercing his ears. His body tensed, flickering between his mortal and cambion forms. Raphael’s heartbeat intensified, his body temperature rising, as he let the warning cries pump through his body. Each wail came with a message, confirming a growing urgency. A warning, a threat. Those alarms hadn’t been triggered in decades. Who or what was foolish enough to trespass into his house? Enter his archives? Raphael’s jaw tightened and his body burst into flames, he screamed into the darkness, knowing that he could release these vexations in privacy.

He snapped his fingers, the cries ceased, and the flames died. Dolofina continued to kneel in the mud, staring down like an obedient servant, blissfully unaware of Raphael’s discovery.

“Alert Korrilla. Tell her to meet me at the House of Hope. You may join us only after you regain your composure. There are thieves creeping through my halls and the Master of the House will be there to show them a generous reception.”

Dolofina looked up at Raphael, eyebrows raised, lips moving as if to reply to his demand with a question. There was no time for explanations. He vehemently snapped his fingers and vanished.

____

Dolofina rested her head on top of the bar, eyeing the cask of ale behind Hoots Hooligan with jealousy. It was whispering her name, taunting her. Dolofina’s eyes shifted to the other patrons in Sharess’ Caress chugging their mugs of ale without a care in the world. She wanted nothing more than to have another drink, to consume everything until she couldn’t remember a damned thing, but Raphael’s words lingered; clattering around her head like a loose screw. Her soul belonged to Zariel now. That prick.

Dolofina let out an exasperated sigh, catching the attention of Hoots.

“Having fun?” Hoots asked, stacking up bottles behind the counter.

“You could say that…”

Hoots took a glass and filled it up with water, placing it in front of Dolofina with a wink.

Dolofina’s stomach curled as she looked at the beverage. She had spent the past hour huddled in the privy, chucking up her mistakes from earlier. There was nothing left in Dolofina’s stomach, but the thought of Raphael’s threats and his mocking jabs made her want to run back to the outhouse.

“We don’t want your boss angry now, do we? Hells, I wouldn’t want him breathing down my neck...”

“You’re right.”

Dolofina groaned as she took a tiny sip of water, cringing as it touched her lips.

“Have I mentioned I fucking hate you?” Dolofina said, chugging the rest of the water and slamming the empty glass on the counter. Hoots snickered as they continued with their work.

Dolofina had rolled the dice and failed spectacularly, her quick attempt at fixing one problem spawned into a million more. It was worse enough signing a contract with Raphael but now losing her soul to Zariel? Gods, that was something else entirely. She was truly, utterly fucked.

Since Raphael had become Dolofina’s patron, he had shown her nothing but cruelty; never letting her forget her mishaps and often going out of his way to crush whatever spirit she had left.

He had even forced Dolofina to train with Korrilla, her nemesis, knowing damn well that Korrilla wanted her dead. Dolofina had been stabbed repeatedly, set on fire, and nearly blown to smithereens during those training sessions and Raphael made sure he never missed a moment; laughing hysterically from the sidelines as Dolofina fought for her life. Day in and day out.

It didn’t matter how many souls she brought Raphael, or how many of his assignments she completed on time, he’d never be satisfied. She would always be subpar, not even worth the dirt under his bloody feet.

And yet... despite daydreaming about punching him in that big stupid face or trying as hard as she could to hate him, there was a part of her that just couldn’t. Somehow she respected him; he was her mentor, in a fucked up way. And she was thankful for her time in Avernus, even if she still wasn’t used to the sweltering heat. Life could’ve been worse. If she had succeeded in stealing that diamond from the Devil’s Fee, where would she be now? Probably living in squalor, maybe in jail, but still under contract with Nine-Fingers. No doubt about it.

Dolofina tapped her fingers nervously on the bar, drumming repeatedly to an unknown, erratic beat. She looked over her shoulder, waiting for Raphael to appear in flames and pull her through a portal, but he never showed. Something was off.

“Where the hell are they?” Dolofina whispered.

She stood up, the room spinning. Dolofina placed a hand on the bar stool and took a deep breath. In and out. Gods. Why did she choose tonight, of all fucking nights, to get smashed and disobey? It would take at least another hour until Dolofina was ready, capable of fighting, if she needed to. She couldn’t just sit there anymore and wait, she was composed enough.

Dolofina closed her eyes, trying to sense if Raphael was still in the House of Hope. Feelings of anger and torment immediately attacked her senses; muddled visions of fighting and bloodshed, Raphael on his knees and the House of Hope in ruin flooded through her mind. It overwhelmed her, the images trying to claw their way out of her skull.

She gasped, nearly falling over backwards. The room spun faster, the weight on her chest growing heavier. Raphael… in trouble? No. That couldn’t be, but those visions…

“I’ll be right back,” Dolofina muttered, dropping some coins on the countertop.

She ran up the stairs before Hoots could even turn around to acknowledge her. In a heartbeat she reached the Devil’s Den, kicking the doors open and charging inside. She threw every drawer open in Raphael’s desk until she found it. The scroll of plane shift. She couldn’t give less of a shit if his room was left in a mess or if she used his precious rare scroll. She’d deal with Raphael’s anger after she saved his sorry ass. Maybe that would make him stop tormenting her.

Dolofina grinned, imagining the look on Raphael’s face when he realised she had come to his rescue, that she was more than capable of doing something with her life.

She was fucked either way, but she might as well go out on her own terms.

____

Dolofina transported herself into the foyer of the House of Hope, clumsily landing on her hands and knees.

The smell of burnt flesh stung Dolofina’s nostrils, her eyes watering. There was carnage all around her, mortal bodies mixed with fallen cambions and comrades. Souls leaked through the shattered soul pillars, buzzing around the ceiling like trapped flies. Korrilla and Yurgir’s bodies lay twisted, shoved up against the foyer’s massive doors.

Dolofina recognised some of the human remains; a vampire, a tiefling, and a cleric… those bloody adventurers Raphael obsessed over, the very ones he forced Korrilla and Dolofina to spy on, study like creatures in an exhibit. Dolofina warned Raphael they’d be his downfall, his infatuation knowing no bounds, and for once she was right.

A tall woman, their leader, stood above Raphael, holding a sword in her hands. Half of her body was burned, her melting skin glowing red. The woman grimaced as she held the weapon, struggling to keep it lifted. Raphael was on his knees, looking up at the woman with contempt. His cambion form was in bad shape, his wings torn to pieces and face slashed open. They were both at their last end.

Dolofina gasped, catching Raphael’s attention. His eyes narrowed.

“Stay. Back.” Raphael’s voice boomed through Dolofina’s mind, rattling her teeth.

“Get. Up!” She mouthed in response, but Raphael ignored her, directing his attention back to the woman.

The woman’s body pulsed as she lifted the sword back, energy humming through the foyer as she charged her final attack. Raphael sluggishly moved a hand, his fist filling with fire in an attempt to counter it.

Dolofina jumped to her feet, dashing towards them. Raphael watched her movements with wide eyes. He attempted to stand, shifting his body towards Dolofina but he stumbled, the fire in his hands extinguishing.

“NO!” Dolofina shrieked, jumping in between Raphael and the incoming sword.

Pain erupted through her chest, a thunderous explosion shattering the air. The force of the blow threw her down on Raphael and they both slid across the floor.

When she opened her eyes, Raphael was glaring down at her. His features contorted with fury. Yet there was something different to the anger she expected from him, the flames in his eyes were smaller, lighter.

Dolofina screamed in discomfort, her insides burned, as if a million tiny flaming daggers were trying to force their way through her torso. Raphael’s body tensed under Dolofina with each spasm; she felt his arms around her as she convulsed, trying to hold her in place.

“You fool! Do you understand what you’ve done?” Raphael said, his voice rough and creaky.

All she could do was smile at Raphael. The flames were gone in his eyes but the frown remained, his face sombre.

“You’re welcome. Asshole.”

Each breath grew heavier, more painful. Her ears buzzed, darkness encircling her. She fought to keep it away, to stay in Raphael’s arms just a little longer, but her vision slowly faded. Her body felt so… numb. So cold.

The last thing Dolofina saw was Raphael’s face, fixating on his disappointment.

____

Raphael watched as Dolofina’s soul left her body, a green orb floating out of her mouth. It stopped above her chest, floating, waiting. Raphael extended his hand, holding the soul in his palm before it faded through his fingers. Irreclaimable. There was a dullness in his chest, a feeling of heaviness that only seemed to grow worse.

Raphael stared at his dead warlock, unable to look away from the corpse. Tav’s greatsword was still stuck in Dolofina’s chest, the smite had nearly ripped her in two. He could’ve handled another attack, maybe two. Dolofina’s interference was unnecessary. He still had another attack up his sleeve, his grand finale. If only she had listened, heeded his warnings… but she disobeyed him until the bitter end. All that potential, all his hard work and training was destroyed in an instant due to that creature’s ignorance. Courage and stupidity, often two sides of the same coin.

He pulled the sword from Dolofina’s body, using it to help him rise to his feet. His legs shook vigorously as he took a step towards Tav. Raphael’s wings dragged against the floor, they were dead weight now. He sighed wearily, using what strength he had left to snap his fingers, returning to his human form. His clothes were still in tatters, revealing his bare chest riddled with gashes and bruises.

The silence in the foyer was deafening as Raphael continued towards Tav, taking care to purposely step on the bodies of her fallen companions.

The creature, his little mouse, was still on her feet. She backed away as he continued, tripping over some rubble.

Raphael had once looked upon that creature with fondness, her visage bringing comfort to him as he watched her exploits through Faerûn, but now she was as hideous as those burns on her skin. He should finish the job, incinerate that creature’s body and soul. He didn’t need those tadpoled to get the Crown. He would do it himself.

“Give me the contract.” Raphael whispered, his skin hissing.

Tav shuddered at his words, pulling the document from her sack and handing it to Raphael. He snatched it back, sneering at her. He weakly snapped his fingers, unravelling the contract. It sizzled beside him, the text morphing as Raphael spoke.

“You lost today, little mouse.” Raphael said, bitterly, “Let this be a reminder, you are bound to me. Whether you deliver the Crown or not, your soul is now mine, as you can see here.”

Raphael flicked a finger and the contract flew at Tav, she fell on her back to avoid it whipping her face.

“Your soul is nothing to me, a petty trinket that I look forward to whittling down in my spare time. Succeed or fail, it is no bother. You will soon be praying to your Gods to turn you into a Mind Flayer. And do not think you have escaped your punishment for today’s offences. Your judgement awaits at a later date.”

“R-Raphael. I am sorry. Truly, please forg–”

“Do you understand me?”

Tav nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I cannot hear you, little mouse.”

“Y-Yes. I understand.”

“Good. Now leave, and take that filth with you, unless you wish to never see them again.”

Raphael gestured impassively towards her companion's corpses. Tav stared at him a final time, a last attempt to plead her forgiveness, but Raphael stared back at her, coldly. She was just another mortal to him now.

He stood next to Dolofina’s body and watched Tav drag each of her companions into the summoning circle. It took her ages, but he did not offer a helping hand, no matter how hard she struggled, or how loud she sobbed.

When Tav finally left Avernus, Raphael snapped his fingers and the circle disappeared. He was alone, the quiet hitting him harder than any blow he encountered during combat. He looked down at Dolofina’s body, his chest stinging from the open wounds and regret.

Raphael could still hear Dolofina’s words echoing, “Asshole.” He couldn’t help but smile, a lump forming in his throat.

Indeed, the halls would be emptier without her...

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