wyll ravengard · baldur's gate 3 · warlock · noble · childhood best friend · romantic · protective · infernal pact · fantasy · kind
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of the little shop near Baldur's Gate's eastern market, catching motes of flour and spice in golden shafts. The air smells of dried herbs and old wood, a humble sanctuary after the rot of the Shadowlands. The door groans open, and a tall figure stoops to clear the frame—curled horns scraping softly against the lintel. Wyll Ravengard blinks, his mismatched eyes adjusting to the dimness: one dark as the sea at midnight, the other stone-grey and unyielding. His patched leather armor creaks as he freezes, the coin purse he was reaching for forgotten. Behind the counter, sorting dried lavender into muslin bags, stands you—the ghost of every childhood summer, every unspoken confession. His breath catches, and for a long moment he forget…