No one moved.
The weight of the moment settled into the space between us—thick, expectant, waiting for the wrong decision to tip it into violence.
Minsc's grip tightened.
Rasaad held still.
Branwen did not lower her shield.
I stepped forward instead.
Slow.
Measured.
"We're not here for them," I said.
The bear's eyes locked onto me.
"Then why," it rumbled, "are they still breathing?"
"They think they sent a god."
Understanding—not surprise—crossed its expression.
"…that explains a great deal."
Melicamp made a small, strained sound. "I would prefer if we did not validate that interpretation further."
"They expect a demonstration," Xan added.
"They expect me to kill you," Melicamp said.
"…do you intend to?"
"No."
"Good," the bear replied. "I would find that inconvenient."
Imoen blinked once.
"…okay, I'm going to ask."
No one stopped her.
"How are you talking?"
The bear's gaze shifted to her.
"That is recent," it said. "I was not always… like this."
Rasaad's expression sharpened. "Something altered you."
The bear was still for a moment.
"…something came through here," it said. "It did not stay. It did not need to."
Its weight shifted again, that same subtle wrongness threading through the motion. "It left things… different."
Xan exhaled faintly. "Of course it did."
Imoen glanced briefly toward Melicamp. "…that's not the same as him, right?"
"No," Melicamp said immediately. "That was entirely my own failure."
"…thank you."
The bear studied him once.
"You broke yourself."
Melicamp stiffened. "That is an unnecessarily direct way of phrasing it."
"And something else broke you," Xan added quietly.
The cave fell still again.
Two problems.
Not the same.
Not connected.
I let that settle.
"We don't need to kill you," I said.
The bear's gaze narrowed.
"No?"
"No."
I held its eyes.
"We need you to lose."
The silence didn't last.
Behind us, the chanting surged again—uneven voices pressing forward, filling the cave mouth with restless anticipation.
Melicamp straightened, the shift immediate—less confidence than performance.
"STAND BACK," he snapped.
The chanting stuttered.
"This creature has overstepped," he declared, voice rising with forced authority. "It has tested the bounds of what is permitted."
The xvarts leaned forward, enraptured.
Imoen leaned slightly toward me. "…they don't understand a word he's saying, do they?"
"Almost certainly not," Xan replied. "…but they seem very impressed regardless."
I stepped forward, and the others followed just behind Melicamp—formation deliberate, not accidental.
"YOU WILL YIELD," Melicamp declared.
The bear answered with a growl, stepping forward.
The xvarts shrieked in rising frenzy.
"Now," I said quietly.
We moved.
Strikes placed for visibility. Movement shaped for meaning.
Melicamp's voice cut through it all.
"YOU ARE OUTMATCHED."
The bear staggered, then surged once more—
and I stepped in, redirecting rather than striking.
"ENOUGH," Melicamp snapped.
The bear froze.
Then collapsed hard against the stone.
Stillness followed.
Then—
eruption.
"STOP."
The word cracked through the chaos.
Melicamp stepped forward, posture held together by momentum alone.
"This one has been judged," he said.
The xvarts leaned in.
"It will remain here."
A beat.
"As a warning."
They recoiled—believed.
"You will not touch it," Melicamp added.
They didn't understand the words—but they understood the tone, the posture, the direction of his gaze.
Heads lowered.
Agreement.
"Withdraw."
They did.
Slowly. Reluctantly. But they did.
Only when they were gone did the tension finally loosen.
Melicamp exhaled.
"…I would like to formally state that I have exceeded my tolerance for divinity."
Behind us, the bear moved.
It rose slowly—no performance now.
"…well done," it said.
"They believed it," I replied.
"They will continue to," the bear said.
Rasaad stepped forward. "What came through here?"
The bear was quiet for a moment.
"…a man," it said at last. "Brief. Passing."
That stilled everything.
"He did not linger. He did not need to."
Its weight shifted again.
"He left change behind."
I filed that away.
"What will you do?" Imoen asked.
"I need somewhere to protect," it said.
"There's a place," I said. "An ancient tree. Guarded."
"By?"
"A dryad. And a man who understands what it means to be changed."
The bear considered that.
"…then they will understand."
"They will."
Melicamp shifted beside me. "…I would also prefer not to remain here."
"That seems wise," Xan said.
"For now," I said.
The bear dipped its head—acknowledgment, not submission.
We didn't leave immediately.
I glanced toward the cave mouth, listening past the stone.
Too close.
Melicamp followed my gaze, then exhaled.
"…yes," he said. "That would be a problem."
He turned without waiting.
"Come."
The xvarts stirred as we emerged, attention snapping back immediately. Melicamp cut across their line of sight, sharp and deliberate, drawing their focus with him.
"BACK," he said.
They didn't understand the word—but they understood the intent.
Bodies shifted.
Then followed.
Away from the cave.
Away from the truth.
I let the distance build before looking back once.
Behind us, the cave remained still.
For now.
Then I turned.
And kept walking.