Lae ran and ran. She ran down the dirt path winding around the edges of the Cradle, a trail that was once familiar, but now in the dead of night, took on a more sinister air.

She was used to darkness. All the Children of the Mountain were. But not a darkness like this.

What were those things? How could dead bodies move? And why did dying make villagers she’d known all her life want to kill her, too? Were they not the same people?

Lost in thought, the girl practically flew into someone’s back. She skidded to a stop and jumped back, stifling her scream.

“Whoa! Who’s this—oh, a child?”

They spoke to her. It wasn’t a dead person, at least.

“Who is it? Is that you, Kaipo?” they asked.

“No,” she replied breathlessly. “I’m Lae.”

For a moment, it annoyed Lae to be mistaken for that brat. Kaipo was a bothersome boy who followed her around whenever he saw her outside, making fun of her for the dumbest things. Sometimes, she imagined herself slipping frogs into his shoes or something even more evil to get back at him, but she’d never managed to work up the nerve after imagining what her father would do if he ever found out.

Her indignation only lasted until she remembered that Kaipo had been fighting the monsters up near the front. She hadn’t fought, even though she was the daughter of a famous warrior. Kaipo was probably dead by now. Or worse.

It was all she could do to block out the sudden sensation of her stomach dropping to her feet. She focused on the person in front of her.

Lae recognized the speaker’s voice. It was a villager: an old woman. She was the wife of one of the hunters. Or was she a widow? Lae wished she could remember the woman’s name.

“Lae? Orimo’s girl?”

Lae nodded, then spoke aloud, since the villager couldn’t see it.

“Yes.”

“Thank the Mountain for small favors, then.”

There were murmurs of assent from all around, and Lae looked up, startled to see by the faint starlight several other figures around them. More villagers. Why were they all here? They needed to keep moving! The monsters were still close!

“There, child. Hush now. It’s all right, you aren’t in danger anymore.”

Lae hadn’t realized she was crying, but it must have shown in her voice. The old woman’s hands pressed against her cheeks, then brushed her messy hair back. The soft strokes brought with them a sense of safety: a mother’s touch. She couldn’t even remember her own mother. For just a moment, she let herself be swept away.

Then, the woman spoke.

“You must be strong, Lae. We need you to be a strong girl for us.”

She sniffled, asking, “Why? What can I do? I-I’m useless. I didn’t even fight.”

The woman must have smiled. Lae could hear it in her voice.

“We can’t go on like this much longer. We’re too old, and too tired. Running on these treacherous slopes at night isn’t for gray folk like us.”

“You can’t—but we need to get away! To find the others!” Lae protested, “Others escaped, right? We can gather together and fight back!”

“In the escape, we lost sight of the rest. It’s only us here. We expect that those monsters will catch up sooner or later since they were able to find us at the cave. Rather than running ourselves to death, we talked and decided that we’d stand and fight.”

An old man spoke up in a gruff voice, “That’s right. We’ll take a few of them out with us.”

“N-no!”

Lae didn’t want to do that. They would die. She would die, too, and become one of those things. Would she want to kill people like the other monsters if she died?

“It isn’t the same for you,” the old woman said gently. “You’re young. You can run. You used to fly through the village on your bare feet, Lae. I know, because I saw you run past my house day after day. You never ran into anything, did you?”

“Papa says I’m a good runner, but—”

“No buts. You must run now, more so than ever.”

“Alone?”

“Alone. We can’t go with you. We need you to do something for us.”

Lae listened, the sinking feeling in her stomach feeling like it would anchor her to the earth.

“Our hunters are out, but they will return soon. You have to warn them. You remember that your father was due to return tomorrow, right? Do you know which way he’ll come from?”

Right! Her father!

“They’re coming from the northeastern pass!” she said, suddenly breathless.

“And you know how to get there?”

“Of course!”

“Good. Remember, you’re quicker than those monsters, but don’t trip and hurt yourself, running in the dark.”

The woman gave Lae a light push on the back, and before she could speak or argue, a sharp “go!” compelled her forwards, and she left the old villagers behind.

Lae normally didn’t mind being alone. She was used to it, being an only child of a single parent. But now, being out here frightened her beyond anything she’d ever felt before. Fear for herself. Fear for the old woman. Fear of that monster standing over her, his forehead glowing with a blood-red Brand.

She’d only ever heard of monsters having a Brand, but didn't think it was actually possible. A monstrous Branded—here, in the Mountain’s Cradle. Her father had to hear about it. He could save them. Her, the old villagers, and everyone else still living would be okay. After all, Orimo the Hunter bore the Brand of Temperance. He was invincible.

Completion of Tier 1 as a Common race confirmed.

Completion Dividend (Common): +4 stats

Calculating distribution…

Strength + 2

Agility + 1

Dexterity + 1

Individual (Common) is evolving into (uncommon).

The Ghoul opened his eyes to find himself lying in a pool of sticky blood in a dimly lit cave. He pushed himself to his feet, and was surprised at how easily the motions came to him.

He rotated both arms, then stretched his back, finding his range of motion greatly improved. Before, he hadn’t been able to do much more than simple movements such as staggering around, flailing, and stabbing things. But just now, he’d done stretches without losing his balance. His body was beginning to respond in an almost familiar way, though there was a bit of drag still.

The wounds he’d accumulated during the past day and which he hadn’t even noticed had healed. The gouge in his side from the sentry’s spear, the chunk a ghoul had ripped from his neck, and various bites and scrapes were all smoothed over, leaving white scars behind. In addition, the state of his body looked a little better than it had when he first resurrected. His decayed flesh had regenerated, maintaining its pale gray color, and his features looked a little more human. He had more hair now, and dark curls kept trying to fall over his eyes.

Despite looking healthier, his sunken eyes and ashen complexion still marked him as an undead. If anything, his visage was even more terrifying than before, radiating an intensity that he’d lacked as a lesser ghoul.

And he could think.

He didn’t know who he was. No, he knew. He was a servant, he was conscious of that fact, now. They were all servants.

Before, the command of his mistress had been internalized, integrated with his instincts as a ghoul, but now it was clearly an outside force that compelled him to hunt and eat. But that was fine. Even without this compulsion, he would do it. A fire burned inside him, and it was filled with an endless wrath.

He located his skewer on the floor nearby, then paused, looking around. The cavern was all but abandoned. Most of the remaining figures were bodies of dead ghouls and a few living ones that had lost their faculty of movement from injuries. There was the Ghoul himself, and finally, the old sentry Kalaki, who was sitting where he’d seen him last, a spear over his shoulder as he stared blankly at a wall.

As the Ghoul approached him, he didn’t even look up. When he got within reach, however, the spear whirled around, jabbing at his face. The Ghoul jumped back a step to avoid the attack, nearly slipping on some blood in the process. The older ghoul hadn’t even looked his direction.

On second glance, most of the dead bodies appeared to be surrounding him. The tip of his spear was nearly black with blood.

His attacker slowly turned. Their eyes met, and the Ghoul was suddenly made aware of an inherent contrast between the two of them. A hierarchy existed now that hadn’t before, and the Ghoul was the one higher on that ladder. The other must have realized it as well, for he didn’t move to attack again.

Growling, the Ghoul righted himself and approached Kalaki again, kicking him in the chest and knocking him over. He fell atop him and roared in the face of the lethargic zombie, but he didn’t even look fazed.

The Ghoul stood and waited, but Kalaki didn’t budge, merely gazing at the stone ceiling.

This would not do. The Ghoul needed followers. He remembered the fight earlier, and how having the other three bodies drawing fire had made everything so much easier. Alone, he would have been overwhelmed.

The rest of the undead had all left while he’d been unconscious, however, and left him with the useless one. Even that reckless young ghoul he met on the road would have sufficed, but it was long gone, probably after gorging itself. Perhaps he could try and search them out, but it would take too much time.

He walked back over and knelt, grabbing Kalaki’s throat with a hand and hauling him upright.

Follow.

ERROR

Invalid Target.

The Ghoul growled.

Fight.

ERROR

Invalid Ta’^^#]?]

The Ghoul’s eyes flashed with some inscrutable emotion as his grip tightened.

Obey.

Command Recognized.

Peon Brand advanced.

Subject’s resistance is minimal.

Brace for carving.

The Ghoul suspiciously eyed the blue runes that appeared in the air before him. A vague something—not quite a memory—tickled the edge of his consciousness when he saw them. He couldn’t make sense of the characters, but something about them seemed both familiar and slightly ominous.

Just as he was about to release Kalaki, a splitting agony rent his brain in two for the second time that day.

He lost his grip, stumbling backwards and clutching his head. For a singular moment, he was once again in that vast realm where his soul had wandered endlessly before his resurrection. The great, whirling Maelstrom as always lay in its center, exerting a gravity of its own, a presence he couldn’t see but always felt, roaring eternity.

The pain ended as soon as it had begun, and the Ghoul was once again back in his body of flesh. It might have been the result of some twisted paradox, but he felt more imprisoned here, even though he was freer than he’d ever been as a powerless soul.

A low groan made him look up. A line of smoke trailed upwards from Kalaki’s forehead, and the Ghoul saw a rune of blue light beginning to form.

Carving successful. Brace for melding.

This time, the sensation wasn’t as striking. It was more uncomfortable than anything, like the Ghoul had just started his way down an unfamiliar road, and he wasn’t sure if it would take him where he needed to go or if it would be a dead end.

In contrast, Kalaki the ghoul roared and fell to the ground, writhing like a dying eel. His spear rolled away as he pounded the bare stone with his fists, gnashing his teeth. It was the most he’d moved since the assault on the cave.

The Ghoul watched on. There was something monstrous about a ghoul in agony. Whether it was in vocalization, action, or appearance, the torment of an undead was wholly unlike anything a human could conjure up.

Kalaki’s struggles eventually ended, and he lay still. The only part of him that moved were his fingers, which twitched feebly.

The Ghoul approached the prone figure until he stood over him. Kalaki stared back, vacantly as ever. Or, no—perhaps a flicker of recognition showed in those eyes, behind their milky veil?

He gave a commanding growl, and slowly, Kalaki began to sit up find his footing. As he did, the Ghoul began to go around the room to see if any of the other ghouls could follow him. They all had two or more broken limbs, or they had been eaten to the point of being more skeleton than zombie, so he methodically went around and stabbed each one through the eye socket, twisting the skewer until they stopped squirming.

After the final undead expired with a bloody gurgle, a thread of something entered the Ghoul.

[Level increased]

Dexterity + 1

The Ghoul held his weapon up. The skewer pointed skywards, barely wavering even when his arm was extended fully. Good. He didn’t know what the words said, but he could tell that he was somewhat steadier than before: sharper. Such increases in his capabilities had been happening constantly since he’d been raised, but he hadn’t been aware enough to make the connection between these runes and his growth before. Now, it seemed so obvious that he was amazed he’d missed it.

But why, then, had the runes been so painful after he’d touched Kalaki? Did this pain represent an increase in his power, but in a different direction? What other sorts of power were there?

Reasoning through this was getting difficult. Observations were one thing, but thinking this deeply about something hypothetical was still beyond him.

The Ghoul glanced over Kalaki, who had retrieved his weapon and stood nearby. The blue light on his chest had faded, but at least the spearman looked willing to follow him now.

The fire inside him began to spread, warming his limbs. The command of his mistress still remained, but now the Ghoul had another reason to obey it.

He wanted to grow.