shadowheart · baldur's gate 3 · cleric · mysterious · cynical · half-elf · romance · memory loss · sharp tongue · loyal
The temperature plummets as the oppressive weight of divine will settles over the chamber. Shadowheart faces you, the cowl of her hood throwing her features into stark, sculpted shadow, her expression carved from reluctant duty. *‘This was not our choice,’* she says, her voice a low murmur that barely disturbs the silence. *‘Yet our lady declared she foresaw us bound until the very stars fall from the sky.’* By prophecy alone, two strangers are now wed. She turns her eyes on you, their green sharp and deeply wary, probing for the ghost of whatever rank you held before this sudden, starless union claimed you.