Chapter 146: Iron-Teeth

Chapter 146: Iron-Teeth

Seros swam into the Underlake.

I swarmed him like a living collection of bees, points of awareness spilling over iridescent scales and the silver twist of his frills—he churred, low and excited, bubbles spilling through his fangs. Mayalle's whirlpool tugged him through, tail lashing as he called upon the water to guide him home—and with an elegance I hadn't actually seen from him before. He called the water and oh, still with the gravitas of a dragon, with the sea-drake budding in his bones, but now with an understanding. Not yet refined, still fumbling, but he spoke instead of shouted, and something reflected back.

Made easier by the passenger he was carrying.

My mana sharpened to claws.

Seros' tail flicked as he pushed into my dungeon proper, his claws spread wide and something thrumming in his mind. Still excited to see me, thoughts rampaging about with all he wanted to show me, but he could sense my wariness. The fangs I was greeting the mind alongside his with.

And, to my remarkable dismay, the mind spoke back.

Hello, dragon-core.

I coiled up like a threatened serpent. Trespasser.

The voice was a deep and powerful thing, one that echoed with the faintest memory of the Song in the recesses that my caged core couldn't fully comprehend. Old, in a way teeth were, and with a flavour of—not deference, because it was too powerful for that, but some kind of respect.

This was a god.

Hells above hells, Seros had brought back a god.

He didn't think in words or sentences, but he did push a feeling of quiet acceptance to me—whoever this god was, it had helped him. I caught a flash of tangled kelp chains, of stone cages, of merrow with deep teal skin—before I heard, faintly, the reflection of the Song. Something in the corners of his mind.

Brief elation that he had perhaps come closer to be a sea-drake, before the moderately more concerning element returned to me.

My mana reached out, drifting into the quiet murmurs of his mind and the deity tucked in the corners. Why are you here?

Now that there had been a connection, I felt the deity unravel, stretching out into an impression of cold shadows and jagged fangs. Black eyes, tucked beneath the star-burn. I am Abarossa, it said, soft and sibilant. Thirteenth of the Thirteen, defender of Arroyo. I am here to parlay.

Ah. Hm.

Of all the many things in the world, I wouldn't deny that this wasn't exactly what I was expecting. If it was here to parlay, what did it—she—have that I wanted? Or what did she want from me?

A faint lingering breath of frustration—not quite hated, softened by divinity, but certainly disconcertment. You took my voice.

Hm.

There was a schema, floating back in the marbled red-black of my core—of a staff, long and twisting, with a diamond on the top. I'd been particularly delighted to devour that, considering the sheer arcane potential woven throughout diamonds and all the mana they could hold.

And they were remarkably auspicious. The perfect thing to build my glittering hoard.

So I had, with minimal regret or even thoughts, dissolved it down to mana and ate it.

Then, of course, a handful of merrow had gotten pissy about that and fought me, and died, repeatedly, and generally spent the last moments of their pitiful lives supplying me with mana. I plucked knowledge of their thirteen gods and all the madness of their cove city from their souls as I devoured them, and essentially considered that was that.

So perhaps, if you were being generous about this all, I had taken her voice from the merrow, and from Arroyo.

Her fault, for having them try to steal my core.

Seros landed at the bottom of the Underlake, sand billowing up around his claws. He was in an odd predicament, and he didn't seem all that pleased about it—the voice, latching onto his mind like she belonged there, and him as the hapless carrier.

Parlay, I thought, loud and stained through with curiosity. What do you bring?

Abarossa's mana coiled around mine, the sinuous strength of a predator. Through me, recreate my staff, she hummed. Give my merrow back my voice.

Would that mean they attacked me more, or less?

And in return, I will bestow a boon upon your sixth floor.

Huh.

My mana settled back like hungering cats, ears pricked. That was certainly an offer, and one that had a surprising amount of thought put into it—and also none at all. What kind of boon should she offer that was so incredible that it was worth giving power back into the hands of the merrow? A fraction of them, supposedly, but I had little doubt that having all thirteen gods back at Arroyo would make them stronger.

Very well.

Entirely intangible I was, but my mana quivered with glee.

No time for hesitation—I reached out to Seros and pulled him along, unsheathing his claws from the sand as he kicked off to swim down. Through the Underlake, plodding over the Jungle Labyrinth, walking on the creaking isles of the Skylands.

Then, plunging into the Hungering Reefs, and all the death that awaited there. The sea serpent, coiling on his broken shipwreck, the kobolds in their lagoon, the reefback growing a palace on her shell. All glorious elements of mine.

Not done. Not yet. But a goddess offered to provide, and I would allow her.

So I gathered my mana, great coiling wreaths of it, spinning around the floor like all stars made, and sunk it into the stone—into the pure white beaches, the towers of capturing coral, the crystalline water with quartz-lights overhead.

The Hungering Reefs, palace and paradise, land of predators.

Boom.

Congratulations! Your floor has attracted the attention of the gods.

Some wish to become Patron of the Hungering Reefs. Please choose from the boons they present.

My core shuffled and split—my consciousness, bobbing out like an untested hatchling, drifting up to the star-filled sky far above. The world beneath me, precious Aiqith, tossed aside in favour of this nameless land where power flowed like a current. Where stars hovered, thrumming with ancient energy, staring down at me with mana-filled eyes.

...very few of them, this time.

It seems they knew when a floor wasn't completed, and weren't willing to settle for what I was offering.

Pricks.

But they were here, and they were calling me, and up I went to see what lavish spread of mana they held in their grasp. Perhaps a dozen, or more, lingering blue-red-purple-green-violet-maroon-cerulean, star-burn deep in the midnight sky.

I reached up to them, at the power they proffered.

What would she do if I picked a different deity? Slipped my sixth floor into the hands of someone else who offered me power, like the goddess of fireflies, who was still floating high overhead even on a floor that even my own mana didn't think was complete. A few smaller ones were still here, willing for anything I would offer, and I sensed her watching me, the coiled hunger that threatened to cut out my core if I didn't fulfill our deal.

Very well.

I picked and wove my way through the other deities, lingering for but a moment to feel their offer as to not be insulting before going higher. Abarossa swam overhead, the gleaming light of her star sinking into my core, into my power. All that she was, all that she offered me.

Abarossa, the goddess of sharks.

Well, that was fitting. Star-burn was she, but teeth alongside, cold and ink-drawn. The shadows moving overhead, the black hunger of eyes. Worlds above my roughwater sharks, something bigger, something older.

And what she offered me was the power of the hunt.

My Hungering Reefs were here for destruction, for desolation—but they were in essence, the ocean. An unforgiving land, where death was consequence.

But I wanted my creatures to grow stronger, and to do that, they rather needed to avoid death.

So Abarossa would take my creatures, and make them sharks.

All those in the Hungering Reefs would feel no draw of hunger, no claws of tiredness, no world in which they would rather rest than continue their hunt. Their dens would go empty; their teeth, sharpened. Ever would they circle, hunting either for more prey or to avoid predators.

Invaders? They wouldn't receive the same honour. There would never be a moment of rest, of peace, as they were surrounded by monsters who never slept, never waited, not when there was something to hunt.

It wasn't exactly what I wanted for my floor. I had pictured something to do with the coral, with the lagoon, with the sea serpent's cove. Abarossa was powerful, but in relation to sharks; she couldn't offer me power that wasn't hers. What she had was the best she could do, although better than merely giving me sharks.

My paradise would become more of a danger. Would become dangerous, never-ending, constantly changing and moving. Would give me teeth to keep up the kobolds and menaces within.

And, I said, you will bring me creatures.

Abarossa's mana wrapped around me. Cold, iron-teeth. I will.

The deal was made.