It was two hours past midnight, and Paultin was waiting.

Diath and Evelyn were now sleeping soundly in the cramped room at the inn. Strix was restless with her legs and hands twitching, her fight-or-flight instincts at work even in her dreams, but asleep at last.

Finally, it was safe.

He winced at the strike of the match, and squinted at the candlelight’s glare burning his vision after hours of darkness, but no one stirred. As quietly as he could, the bard pulled open the night-table drawer at his bedside and reached for the paper and quill he had stored there.

The lyrics had been brewing in his head for the past few days, words he tried as hard as he could to forget or at least ignore. The missions the party had accepted were a good distraction. The wine was an even better one. Both were effective--in the light of day. But by nightfall, they would appear again in his mind, more insistent than ever, even in his dreams. Paultin knew he couldn’t handle another night like that. He had to get it out of his system. Maybe then rest would finally come.

He began slowly and his eyes kept darting up, worried that the scratching of the quill would wake someone. But soon enough, that worry faded away as the floodgates opened. The bard wrote faster as the inn and his friends faded from his mind’s eye, disturbed with what his imagination had conjured but desperate to get it over and done with--

A hoarse whisper yanked him back to reality. “...Paultin?”

Dammit, he had woken up Evelyn. He quickly shoved the paper and quill under his blanket, like a guilty thief hiding his loot before he was spotted by the city guard. “Go-- Go back to sleep, Evelyn.”

But she was now sitting up in her bed, her bleary-eyed gaze drawn to the dancing candlelight. “What are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. “Sorry to wake you up.”

He might have hidden the paper, but the telltale splash of ink on his hand gave him away. The sleepy concern in Evelyn’s expression quickly changed to excitement. “Are you writing a new song?”

Paultin grew more anxious. Now was not the time for his biggest fan to gush about his music; already he could see Diath start to twist under the covers from Evelyn’s growing enthusiasm. “Uh, I--”

Oblivious to his discomfort, Evelyn plowed ahead. “I’ve always been curious about your creative process. Where do you get your ideas? Did you have a dream and just had to write it down before you forgot it? Or is it a secret song?”

She was getting far too close to the truth for his comfort, and it was starting to piss him off. Maybe a piece of the truth would get her off his back. “Okay, okay, I was writing something, but it’s not any good--”

“Oh bless your heart, don’t be so hard on yourself!” Evelyn pushed back her covers and started to get out of bed so she could judge it for herself, which made Paultin finally snap.

“Just drop it already! Give it a goddamn rest!” The bard hissed in anger.

The paladin visibly flinched, hurt by his harsh outburst. She looked like she wanted to ask him again what was troubling him, but thought better of it. Instead, she burrowed back into her blankets and turned away.

Paultin’s mouth began to form an apology, but the words withered in his throat. He didn’t want to reveal the truth, but he didn’t mean to snap at her like that either.

He was about to get out of bed to apologize, but Evelyn’s soft voice stopped him, already sounding muffled as she was falling back into slumber. “Don’t worry about your music, Paultin. Everything you write is lovely.”

A guilty glance around the room showed the others hadn’t woken up from their conversation. Only then did he pull back out what he had been furtively scribbling like a man possessed.

There was nothing lovely about any of it.

I know a way that you can cut every last tie

The friends you’ve made, how could you watch all of them die?

I see your mind, now it’s slipping faster

Kill or be killed, the only thing that matters

And I can see it in your smile and in your eyes

There’s no compassion, no there’s nothing left inside

You should be prouder

Come on, scream it louder

You and I

We thirst for blood

We know you can’t deny this

I’ll always be part of you

Dead silence, there’s no sound

Their ashes spread across the ground

You’ll end it all

This land it reeks of death

And all your broken promises

It’s all your fault

This was not one of his cheerful tavern songs. This was not one of his inspirational tunes to boost the party’s spirits. This was...horrific. If it weren’t clearly scrawled in his own hand, he would have sworn it was written by someone else.

Paultin buried his head in his hands. It was this place. It had to be. He hadn’t been the same since that damned mist stole them all away. It lurked everywhere in these lands, seeping into his heart and mind, and no amount of comical banter or cheap wine could banish it altogether.

He remembered those poor soulless wretches he had met on their journey. No light in their eyes, no hope, no anything. Is this how it starts? Will I snap? Will I kill them all and not even feel a thing?

Balling up the paper fiercely in his shaking hands, Paultin swallowed down the nausea rising in his throat. They can’t know. If he shows that he can’t keep it together, the others will certainly notice. He’d compromise their chances of escaping Barovia. Oh God, what if they have to abandon him, leave him alone in this hell?

Paultin banished these black thoughts with long-practiced denial. If he kept thinking like that, he would go mad for sure. Tonight, he’ll get what rest he can so he won’t be completely useless in the morning, taking a long pull from his stashed wineskin to help speed the process along. Tomorrow, he’ll sneak off and burn these lyrics before they set out, and apologize to Evelyn, and that will be that. Everything will be fine. He’ll crack some jokes, and sing his songs, and get completely plastered at the next tavern. If he can’t avoid this evil, then he’ll drown it in drink.

He blew out the candle, and tried not to think about how quickly the darkness reclaimed his corner of the room.