Chapter 95: Silver-Wrought

Chapter 95: Silver-Wrought

Akkyst stood with the slow, lumbering weight that said he really shouldn't be.

Every muscle remade, his fur scrapped of its brown and given a lustrous silver instead, larger and dexterous and more refined, in a way, a collection of mishmashed parts he hadn't adjusted to yet. His thoughts flowed smoothly, picking up stray observations and stringing together connections in a way that felt natural but was eerily fast. Too... coordinated.

His body, on the other hand?

Still very much unused to it.

He stumbled up to his paws, vision bobbing and weaving as he adjusted to having only half of what he was used to, blurry on the edges and cut off on his left side. Hearing, too; he could feel the thump of his paws against stone, the scrap of the edges of his claws, but they weren't nearly as loud as he thought they should be. As they ought to be.

Everything echoed rather hollowly after that.

But he hadn't backed down before the stone-wurm so he didn't now, staggering on legs that wanted to do everything but obey, enormous head shifting as he tried to take in all his surroundings. Movement, the rustle of a sound; Akkyst's lips pulled back from his fangs in a throaty rumble, not yet a snarl—but prepared.

For all he knew, the War Horde had been the victors after he'd passed out.

But still, he turned as best he could toward the sound—unsurprisingly, difficult to pinpoint with only one functional ear—and began to lumber towards it.

The rattle of voices, echoing over the empty stone, the language he'd worked so hard to decode now coming crisp and understood through him. Almost unfair, really. He'd put so much effort into it, and a simple change had unlocked whatever the rest of the information he needed?

That was for a later time. For now, Akkyst rounded an enormous, shattered pillar collapsed against the ground with shards twisting in every direction and came face to face with goblins.

Blue, black stripes, stone-like robes, jewels and bone earrings.

The Magelords.

As much as relief flooded through him, something heavy and dark lurked behind it; because for all that he recognized every face, there were far too many spaces between them. Maybe four dozen left, if he was being generous, some injured or limp or slump-eyed with exhaustion. They were piled around the shattered remains of a tent, huddled together under a few scavenged quartz-lights, bare bits of food between. Not much more, themselves.

Barely a fraction of what they had been.

And at the head of them all stood Bylk.

Wrinkled, old, the jewels in his ears not yet regaining their shining light—but alive. His eyes met Akkyst's, and true, honest relief poured through them; even if he had to look up even more to properly lock gazes. It seemed Akkyst had grown.

"Bylk," he managed, and nearly marveled at the sound that came from his lips; still growling and rumbling in the way that goblins didn't do, but the sounds were crisp and defined, easy to understand. Several other Magelords blinked wide eyes at the first word of his they'd understood.

"Akkyst," the chief said, eyes wide.

But then Bylk looked at him. He was an old thing, Akkyst knew, twisted and gnarled and wearied by age, ancient for all that goblins rarely had the lifespan to reach it. Most of the time he hid that fact with jokes and cackles and odd, wheezing sounds that were probably laughter, or he ached and moaned about body aches while still springing spryly around the home.

But he was old, and at that moment, Akkyst saw it. Bylk's eyes, framed by black stripes over his blue skin and the jewels dangling from his ears, were dark and deep, something hidden beneath their black surface.

Discerning.

Spending as long as he had slept and waking up with all these new changes, it would be impossible to ignore. Before, it had been easy enough to wave away other problems with him just being a lunar cave bear, a relatively unknown species around here, or lingering effects of the War Horde's hospitality—but not now.

"You're not like us, are you?" Bylk finally said, ears drawing back. "Somethin' else entirely, eh?"

Akkyst rumbled, deep in his throat. There was no hiding it, not now. Not that he was particularly interested in it. He was not overly fond of secrets, much in the same way he disliked keeping knowledge to oneself; while it had only been common sense that kept him from telling the War Horde, both because he didn't want to reveal he understood them and also because they didn't exactly speak fondly of the Growth, the Magelords were different.

Bylk was different.

A new life.

And she would not waste it.

There had been others like her, small and furry and with grasping little hands and tails, but they would only be competition. They would take her jewels if she let them, much like they had in the past, like they always had before. She would not allow that.

Rats would do as rats would do, but as the newest of the rats, shadow-sleek and silver-wrought, they would not take from her.

So on she crept, slinking through the twisting canals of a floor deeper, staring up at all the lovely treasures piled high; but they were only plain treasures, in the end. The same gold and jewels and silver that she had found in the place of her first birth, nothing special, nothing new.

She was new. Thus her empire, her hoard, needed to be new.

And she would not find that in the simplicities of the higher places.

There was a tunnel, deep and rich and bursting with mana, tucked beneath the wavering roots of the white-scarlet-blood thing; sly as a ghost, she slipped through its thorny grasp and into the stone below, disappearing from all she had ever known into the depths of her new home.

As she skittered down, she felt something in the air change, growing heavier, almost dense. It pressed against her fur like the rock pond from her first birth, cool and wet, but as she struggled deeper, she felt the mana thicken, burning through her channels with a ferocity she had never felt before. What was this?

Why had she only stayed in the first place of her birth, where the jewels rewarded her with little sparks, when she could venture down here and taste a feast?

Onward she crawled, and greater and greater did the mana grow.

Past the water-air, the tunnel widened and suddenly she was in a new world, one narrow and choked with green-plants, long and grasping; but they were lesser. Were not new enough.

Were not treasure.

So on she walked, through things that reached and grabbed at her, but she was small and clever and her teeth were well adept for nipping off anything that got too close. Things did not see her as well as they should have, shadows rippling over her silver form, and through the tunnels she skittered, following the deepening call of mana. New treasures gleamed, plants with gemstones cradled at their center, striped razors lining the walls and floors, larger creatures with arm-blades and spiraling eyes. But they weren't enough. Not enough.

Through the tunnels, endless and sprawling, sleeping curled up in whatever hollows she could find, gnawing bugs and drinking from pockets of water. The mana called to her, and she felt hungry beyond compare, beyond belief. She wanted more.

So down, ever down, ever deeper, through tunnel and grass-green and spots of water, until she emerged into a massive cavern, false stone things and endless green. Serpents and other rats as well, but they were not her. Not new. So she crept on, slinking through shadow and stream.

The last room was the largest. She stood in awe for a second; perhaps this was a treasure, and she could claim it? Wrap it up in her tail and take it for her own?

Hm. Perhaps not. It was rather large.

Flying things shrieked and swooped overhead as she skittered over narrow platforms and sprawling sections, ears pricked, eyes wide and drinking in all around her. Over valley, over passage, over things she didn't know the words for; but still the mana called and she followed, ever deeper, ever beyond.

Until at last she arrived at the final opening. The mana was the richest it had ever been, promising jewels and gems and silver beyond anything she had seen before—and who was she to reject such a welcoming call? She darted forward.

And there.

A column, a slumbering beast awash in light, gold and silver and brilliance–

But in the farthest corner, a small, delicate flower, white-petaled, gentle.

And absolutely burning with mana, the likes she had never seen before. Something far-off, glimmering like stars, bright and tangible and brilliant. Stronger than anything she had ever seen.

New.

Yes, she decided right there, rising onto her back paws and staring at the flower. This would be her first treasure. This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com