The titanic being of flesh and hate rippled and swayed as the Empire ship threw devastating spell after devastating spell into the mass. Spells that would have torn the sloop to shreds dug into flesh and carved great wounds into the monster…at first. But every wound sealed faster than the last, every spell did less damage than the last.

‘Better to let the two distract one another as we run away.’

Yannis ignored the Empire ship and had its countless eyes swiveling in different directions. Every time it pulsated, it grew a bit larger, spread a bit farther. And near the top, a series of yellowish nodes grew. With each pulse, they grew and shifted like a diseased heart. Until for one pulse, they stopped growing, and they multitudes of eyes stopped moving. Dread built up in Rael as they swiveled about looking for Azmond. They found him holding onto the mast in a white knuckled grip as he stared in abject horror at the mountain of hatred made manifest.

“Az!” Rael rushed towards him.

And that’s when everything went wrong. The nodes at the top of the flesh-tree erupted, sending balls of meat flying in massive arcs. Trailing red smoke behind them, the hail of fleshy meteorites flew in every which direction, most landing in the ocean. Most.

The angry meat bounced off a few of the makeshift blimps, but six landed on deck. The Empire ship was bombarded with more than a few, and panic quickly took hold on both ships as the balls of flesh spasmed and contorted. A few brave sailors went with axes to try and hack at the meat and throw it overboard, but the hating flesh was full of surprises. Two exploded on deck, sending bone shrapnel into an unlucky few as the sinew spread like a web and contorted, pulling apart the deck and whatever else it could grab. Rael watched in horror as Koil narrowly avoided being speared by bone, only to be pulled into the mass, screaming before it suffocated him and burst his body like a bubble. The other meat balls mutated and split apart into awful parodies of life: a mangy wolf with too many legs, joints, and teeth. A snake with a segmented thorny carapace, cutting itself as it moved about on deck. A goat with claws instead of hooves, which had its head split open in an all-too-human scream to reveal a bloody, skinless lion’s head. And a spindly naked man with mouths all over its body, all save its head, which was blank and featureless.

Everyone acted quickly. The monsters charged the crew, most of whom were distracted keeping the ship flying, tending to the wounded, or cutting away at the sticky sinew. But some people were ready. Ty threw lightning at the wolf monster, blasting it backwards in a smoking tangle of limbs. It shook its head and got up. A former slave managed to tackle the goat-beast to the ground after it had disemboweled a crewmate, allowing a companion to spear it in the neck. It struggled still. The snake had constricted itself around a man, slicing his skin to ribbons as he held his composure and slammed its head to the ground. It tried to bite him, but its fangs couldn’t penetrate deep enough as the sailor slammed its head some more. Both were still moving. Rael witnessed all of this as they ran across the deck towards Azmond. And the pale man-thing that reached towards him, mouths on its open hand salivating. Azmond was paralyzed in fear, sobbing and shrieking. The man-thing’s mouths unsheathed needle-thin teeth. The child fell down and tried to scurry backwards, but there was a corpse blocking him. He began hyperventilating, tears running down his face as the hands came closer. Rael jumped.

The creature hissed as Rael’s drop-kick sent it stumbling away.

“Rael!” Azmond blubbered. He got up to rush to Rael’s side, but they held up a hand.

“It’s dangerous Az. Stay behind me.”

The young boy nodded and edged behind Rael. His protector stood up straight and summoned their dagger. There was no pain this time. The creature chittered, dozens of mouths gnashing teeth together in an opera of spiteful clicking. Its head split open vertically into another massive mouth, all of its mouths opening in tandem. And it howled. In many different pitches and screeches, the mouths screamed in guttural tandem, a massive tongue adorned with teeth of their own burst from the mouth where its head used to be. Rael readied their dagger, running through what their best options were.

‘Now is not the time to think. Just do.’

A whip-like barbed tongue slashed towards Rael. They dodged, but it curved and twisted to tear into Rael’s side. Rael winced as they jumped backwards out of range.

“[Minor Heal].” Skin closed over their injury, but it would not repair muscle damage.

The creature hissed, barely heard over the screams and orders aboard the ship. It advanced again, tongue lashing out in a frenzy. Rael was ready this time. Just as they jumped to the side, the tongue twisted to cut them again.

“[Minor Cut].” Rael’s Tome-dagger, enhanced by the spell, cut through the tongue in a deft swipe. It screeched as the tongue feel to the deck, writhing like an earthworm in the hot sun. Rael ran towards it, punching the side of its head so that it would slam the mouth closed on what was left of the tongue. Blood oozed from the seam in its head. It lunged forwards, a mouth on its arm ripping a piece of skin from Rael’s right arm as they swung back the cut another pound of flesh from the monstrosity.

Rael was forced to back away again, the creature pacing towards them. ‘I can’t exactly grapple it if its mouths can rip me apart once I get close. And it’s definitely smart enough to know that.’

“He—” It charged Rael as they were about to say the word. Rael dropped down low and cast the actual spell they were preparing, focusing more energy on the blade than before.

“[Minor Cut].”

The knife glided through both of its legs like a hot knife through butter, and it collapsed over Rael’s back, digging myriad teeth into their skin before Rael threw the foul creature off. It landed between Rael and Az, reaching for the latter and hissing…before an axe cut its midsection in half. Thierrson was breathing heavily, blood running down the side of his head. Rael rushed over to Azmond and began checking him for injuries, letting their dagger dissipate.

“Are you okay?”

“’M fine.” Theirrson responded.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Rael said. “Thanks, but I had it. And you’re obviously not fine. You’re bleeding and you passed out.”

“You were about to collapse. You’ve been casting spells non-stop, or so Mila tells me.” Rael frowned but said nothing as they buried the shivering Azmond in the crook of their neck. “And this isn’t my blood, it’s from the little shit who tried to take me hostage.” Thierrson inclined his head towards the aft of the sloop, where Caldon was nursing a massive nosebleed as he was sat on by Tiny Tom. To their side was the bruised and bloody cook, who was trussed up like a turkey by Lew. “The two tried to stage their own mini-mutiny while everyone was distracted. They took me and Mila hostage and came up to the deck to see this whole mess.” Thierrson waved his hand to the sloop. The goat creature was a bloody mush, surrounded by the injured and piles of corroded flesh. The mangy wolf was a charred corpse, thankfully having only focused on a tired Ty. As for the snake, its head was pulped, and the man it tried to lacerate was showing off its body to his friends as he left red footprints on deck.

“Unluckily for them, that’s when I woke up. I gave the kid a nasty headbutt and beat the stuffing out of the ass that took Mila hostage. Nobody’s explained what in the Hells these things are, though.” The man nudged the corpse of the creature.

Rael pointed at the massive being by the galleon, kilometers behind them.

“Huh.” Thierrson nodded. Then shook his head. “That really doesn’t explain anything.”

“The Rainbow Fire stopped. Then it came out.”

“Yannis.” Thierrson sucked in a breath. “Then these are…demons?” He stopped and thought about it for a second. “Doesn’t that make me a demon slayer?” Thierrson picked up a cracked spyglass and looked at the Mother of Demons and the galleon that was besides her.

“I don’t care what that makes you. It makes me want to get away from here as quickly as possible.” Rael took the pale Child of Dragons by the hand and began to walk the numb child towards the wheel.

“They are really struggling against the demons…I guess because more landed on their deck than ours. Another point in favor of whatever the hells we did with the Calidaerum.” Thierrson commented before focusing on the titanic scourge. “Never thought I’d see the day. It’s massive. Two, maybe two and a half kilometers tall? That’s a weird claw. More like a straight horn than anything. And none of the eyes seem to be focused on the galleon.” He shivered, and Azmond took a glance behind him to see what Thierrson was talking about. Indeed, Yannis had shifted and grown a bulge of contorted muscle at its midpoint, from which a white horn was growing. The Rage of the World didn’t seem to care about the galleon. If anything, its eyes focused north…towards them. The muscle flexed, and the horn disappeared. Azmond’s eyes widened, his hands clenching Rael’s for a split moment, trying desperately to pull them away.

“RAE—!”

Rael didn’t know why, but they jumped to the side as they felt Azmond clench their hand in desperation. The horn slammed through the deck and out the other side, spearing the sloop as one would a fish. The ship heaved as a few more people careened over the edge, shrapnel from the wood tearing through sail, Calidaerum, and people alike. It had narrowly missed the main blimp, but most of the aft Calidareum had been blown. Rael had covered Azmond with their body, and when they tried to get up, they stumbled. Their back was still injured from the humanoid demon, and a large shard of wood had speared into their left thigh. The people on board were dazed and confused, watching in befuddlement as the slack tendril of skin and sinew that connected the horn to Yannis began to swell and grow taunt, pulling the ship back to the Mother of Demons.

“DESTROY THAT LINE!” The captain barked, holding fast to the wheel.

But as sailors took up arms to cut at the massive tendon, tendrils erupted from the wounds and wrapped into them, melding into their skin. That’s when the screaming truly began. They drowned in their own liquifying flesh, bones breaking as they were pulled apart to form the tendon’s mass. People backed away, and the screaming died down. But their eyes were still open, intelligent and aware. They focused on the others and filled with hatred. Their screams began anew, not of pain but the unending cry of madness and hatred of all that was living. A scream that never stopped, never paused for breath. The crew responded appropriately: by throwing anything they could at the tendon as it pulled them ever closer to the monster. Spells, water drums, axes, knives, pieces of wood…The blades dug into the bodies of their former compatriots, as their flailing limbs reached for whatever they could find to absorb. As the ship closed the gap, the tendon grew thicker, and the tendrils could reach farther.

Rael limped towards the port bow, ushering Azmond ahead of themself. But try as they might, the reach of the tendrils grew closer and closer, slapping hungrily on the wood behind them. The shadow of Yannis began to loom over the ship, its apex creeping across the ship until the light of day was blotted out. Something thudded on deck right behind Rael, then slammed into them. Their blood ran cold, hoping beyond hope that it would be quick. But nothing came. They turned to see Tiny Tom had pushed them forwards, stumbling to the railing of the ship. He’d fallen right behind Rael.

There was a tendril wrapped around his foot, digging into his leg and pulling him back as he struggled to hold onto the railing. Rael watched with abject horror as the tendril wormed its way up his leg, altering and twisting the flesh.

“Run. It wants him!” Tom yelled. His back split apart and swelled as the corruption climbed up his spine. “It wants it all.” Tom crowed in breathless realization. “It wants it all! Your knife! Your knife, summon it!”

Rael, panicked, ripped their knife from their chest and offered the handle to Tiny Tom. The man grabbed Rael’s hand and shoved the knife into his heart.

“Live free.” Tiny Tom wheezed, pulling the knife from his chest, and stabbing himself again. Still the corruption continued rooting up into his brain, swelling his head and cracking his skull. “It wants…both of…?” With a last effort, Tiny Tom pulled Rael’s petrified hand to plunge the knife in the gap of his skull, ending himself once and for all. His body was slowly dragged back towards the malignant mass.

Rael stumbled backwards onto the net with shuddering breath, watching chaos unfold on the deck. Tendrils took those who strayed too close, and scenes like Tom’s became common. Whatever the victims understood from their brief connection with Yannis, they didn’t want to. Yew’s wrist was taken by a tendril for but a moment before a quick-thinking Thierrson cut off the arm above the elbow. A sailor was surrounded by corrupted flesh and the edge of the ship, and she chose to jump off and risk death from the height rather than Yannis’ embrace. Mila was beating away tendrils with a plank of wood. The first mate got caught through the neck and cast a spell on himself, burning away his life and immolating a large swath of the tendon in the process. Caldon was being subsumed by a tendril as the tied-up cook squirmed away in panic. Ty looked about in horror before a determined expression took over his face. He aimed his hand and cast.

The relentless screaming was drowned out by the thunderous roar of an explosion. Ty blew up a Calidaerum and was consumed in the blast. The wave of force ruptured the ship in half, sending Rael and Azmond flying into the net behind them. The massive ball of flame spread to other Calidaerum, causing a chain reaction of explosions. Dazed and confused, Rael and Az watched as the sloop fell apart as they floated away, caught in the net secured to one of the smaller Calidaerum. Their ears rang, and the following explosions were muffled ‘thumps’ but they could still hear the captain screaming.

“Abandon ship! ABANDON SHIP!”

Rael’s muddled thoughts went in strange directions. ‘How can I still hear his voice? Is there a spell for captains that allows the entire crew to hear them, no matter what? That’s cool, seems efficient.’

As they drifted on the wind, carried by a ramshackle hammock and a wild gasbag, they watched as the galleon made a similar decision. The two decks detached and began to fall slowly into the water as the balloon erupted once, twice, four times. The explosion sheared a massive hole in the side of Yannis, and the great demonic pillar began to collapse.

‘How can something explode several times? Were there compartments inside the balloon? That’s really clever, for a bunch of imperialist scumbags.’

Rael’s peripheral vision began to fuzz, watching fire and boiling blood fall into the ocean in the distance.

‘I’m about to pass out. Is Az okay?’

Rael turned to see the Child of Dragons holding onto the ropes in a white-knuckle grip, face pale and tears streaming down his face as his eyes darted between Rael and the devastation they were blown away from.

“I…will be okay.” Rael gasped. “Jus’ gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

Rael reached for his hand and clasped it. Azmond sobbed and nodded, a little bit of the tension leaving his shoulders. The last thing Rael saw before losing consciousness were the rainbow flames reigniting on the horizon, cutting off the terrible screaming once and for all.

Rael couldn’t remember their dreams. When they next woke, they winced at the stiffness that had bound their entire body. Rael had barely enough time to get their bearings; floating above an endless ocean, Azmond shucking barnacles from the Calidaerum to eat, and their wounds hastily wrapped in a mishmash of cloth and canvas. Azmond noticed them waking up and hastily climbed down the netting to push hardtack and barnacle goo to Rael’s mouth. Uncaring, Rael ate it all, struggling to keep their eyes open.

“Az…” Rael started, before their eyes rolled back once more.

It was dark when Rael woke up again, Azmond’s warm body nestled close to combat the biting cold. He woke with a start and scampered to grab a plank of wood holding cracked barnacles and Calidaerum fuzz. Rael winced, their body shivering as the hot spikes behind their eyes grew. Fever. They glanced around, counting the things that got stuck in the net with them. A few planks of wood. Some canvas. Two barrels, one intact.

“What’s in the barrel?” Rael wheezed after they’d fought their gag reflex to keep the bitter food down.

“Not water.” Azmond practically whispered. “It burns when I drink.”

“Alcohol.” Rael could feel their head lightening as their peripheral vision fuzzed. “Listen carefully. Unwrap the bandages. Don’t mind the smell. Throw them away, and wash my injuries…my bloody bits, with the burning liquid. I may scream, but I need it. Don’t stop. When you’re done, rewrap them with new bandages…that you soaked in the burning liquid. Then…get the other drum…and lean it against the…lowest ropes…or the thickest ones…for when it…rains…”

Dreamless sleep took over once more for what seemed like a moment. Until the pain came. Rael woke with a yelp, almost a scream until they bit it back. Their injuries were puckered and scabbed, the small child carefully pouring another bowl of the alcohol over them. Rael’s thing hurt the most. Struggling as their body whined in protest, Rael shifted so they could flip over, allowing access to their bloodied back. They shifted their arm to their left thigh, feeling around until they found it. The bit of wood firmly embedded there, far too big to be called a splinter. With a moment of hesitation, Rael pulled in out with a growl that grew into a yell. Their head was spinning. They pointed at the open wound and Azmond understood, pouring the alcohol into the injury. This time, Rael did scream, the pain lancing though their leg, taking advantage of the pain to stay awake and summon their Tome.

“[Minor Heal].” Skin closed over their larger wound, though it hurt still. Already drained, they pointed to the perforated container. “[Create Water].”

Satisfied at preventing more blood loss and providing enough water to at least gather in the broken barrel, Rael let unconsciousness take over.

<><><>

Raela was watching her father work the iron while her eldest brother, Yolfis, tended to the bellows. Jorge did not like having his daughters watch him work. He’d grimace and get into his oft-repeated monologue: ‘It’s a man’s job. You need to be strong enough to hammer metal for hours, strong enough to resist the blistering flames, strong enough to keep working in silence for hours. I can’t have you prattling, breaking my concentration with your whining.’ Raela thought he was exaggerating. Just because she couldn’t grow hair on her chin didn’t mean she wasn’t strong. Of course, Kianna, her elder sister, didn’t care and let Jorge do his work. She preferred to do as their mother did, tending to the home and keeping herself pretty.

Raela didn’t want to be like her mother, nor Kianna. So she snuck about until she could find the best place to watch her father work. Right by the chimney, underneath the oak that leaned over the smithy, was a bunch of loose shingles. Raela would climb up the tree and watch Jorge beat the metal into shape. She would watch as Jorge taught Yolfis the tricks of the trade, how to find minute cracks, how to best sharpen a blade, when to quench in water or oil. She didn’t know the subtleties of forging…how it felt to balance the metal, where to find stress fractures, how to angle the hammer just right to beat out the warp. But every night, when her father was in a deep sleep, she’d look over the work he’d done. And she’s learn, little by little.

Of course, she knew better than to get caught. The first few times her curiosity brought her over to the smithy, her father tanned her hide. First with his hand, then with a stick, and finally with an unsharpened blade. He’d been clear enough.

“Son, do you remember how to make a billet for a knife?”

Yolfis shook his head, even though he’d been shown it several times. Enough that Rael could remember the steps clearly.

“I suppose you take after your mother.” Jorge sighed. “She’s beautiful and great in the sack, but Dragons forgive her if she needs to use her head.”

Jorge only ever spoke badly of Raela’s mother, Sabine, by the forge. The heat, much like alcohol, had a way of loosening his tongue. Everywhere else, he’d sing her praises as a housewife, as a woman, and innocently use innuendos to brag about their sexual exploits. Jorge grumbled as he unfurled his Tome, a scroll, and cast a spell to increase the heat of the forge, then another as he sucked up the flame in his hand. The bright blue flame was condensed onto his finger, which he used to weld together three pieces of metal. Raela watched as the two softer metals were melded on top and below the harder, more brittle, iron. Yolfis watched carefully and jumped up when Jorge barked at him.

“Hey! You’ve seen me do it again. Now light the forge once more, me need to heat it up to flatten it out.”

Just as Yolfis was beginning to put the billet into the lit forge, a voice called from outside. Raela stiffened. From where she was, all someone needed to do was look up to find her peeping on her father. She was careful not to move as she looked over to see one of the hunters of Tulip’s Hold. She remembered him, Felt, because Sabine had repeatedly talked about his wife. She called her homely and incredibly lucky to be married to such a capable hunter…though maybe unlucky since Felt’s brother was a very successful cattle herd and has shown ‘a fondness for cows’. Raela did not like dinner when her mother was talkative.

“Good morning, Jorge!” Felt had a wide smile but didn’t seem keen on staying. His legs were restless and his eyes were darting in different directions.

The blacksmith grunted as he walked through the threshold and crossed his arms.

“What do you want, Felt? I’m busy.”

“When aren’t you busy?” Felt laughed nervously. “I’ve just been wondering how my arrowheads have been coming along. I lost another three the past week. Two to a boar that was a lot more muscle than fat, and one to a fae. Plus, I’ve been looking into getting my son a knife so I can teach him how to gut a kill.”

“’M working on it.” Raela knew her father was lying. He hadn’t even gotten the iron for the arrowheads prepared. “As for the knife, no can do. I’ve got a merchant from Nize interested in buying a knife for himself. He had his own run-in with fae, you see. His order first.”

“Surely, he can wait? Another hunter would mean more meat at the market. Plus, we’re locals! Your merchant will understand.”

Jorge shook his head. “I’ll make your knife and your arrowheads when I’m done with the merchant’s order.”

“I ordered fifty arrow heads months ago.” Felt’s jaw clenched.

“If you want them sooner, you could always match the merchant’s price…or go to Fellharbor. They’ve got a smithy.” Jorge shrugged.

“Fellharbor is a week’s journey away, on a dangerous road.”

Jorge smirked and held out a hand.

“Fifty electrums. Thirty up-front.”

Felt’s right eye twitched. The material cost was barely five electrums.

“I can’t pay that much.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” Jorge yawned and turned around to return to the forge.

“Wait!” Felt pulled out a pouch of coins. “Twenty electrum right now, and a pick of ten pounds off the boar I’m going to hunt.”

Raela winced. She’d seen hunters come back from boar hunts. To call it risky was an understatement.

“One hundred pounds.”

“Twenty.” Felt cringed.

“Fifty, or no deal.”

Felt tossed the coin pouch, watching it sail through the air…and catching sight Raela on the roof. Slowly, she brought up a finger to her lips. Felt looked away, dimples forming on his cheeks. Jorge was feeling the heft of the coin purse and nodded. He raised an eyebrow at Felt’s little smile.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“Just imagining my son’s face when I gift him one of your knives. He’s been clamoring for a good one for a while now. Clipped blade, fifteen to twenty centimeters long, please.”

“You’ll get your blade.” Jorge nodded. “But if the merchant asks why it took so long, I’ll be sure to mention you.” Jorge made his way back to the smithy as Felt walked back towards the center of Tulip’s Hold.

When her father came back inside, Raela climbed up the oak branch and scurried down, jogging after Felt. Once she got to his side, she matched his stride.

“Thanks for not snitching.”

“Don’t mention it. Most of the village knows about…how your father is.” Felt appraised Raela for a minute before looking round her. “Where’s Alric? Doesn’t the little guy hang around you a lot?”

Raela almost missed a step. “Not so much now. Ever since he got his Tome…”

Felt nodded. “Things happen. I’m sure the novelty will wear off and he’ll come back around to his big sister. I don’t think anyone is as protective of him as you.”

“Maybe.” Raela hung her head. “But I doubt it. He’s taken to magic like a fish does to water. He won’t need my protection when he’ll be flinging spells left and right.”

“Hmm.” Felt pursed his lips as he looked across the market, gaze fading as he seemed to remember something. “He is around the right age.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Ah!” Felt caught himself. “Puberty, you know?” Almost changing the subject, he continued. “And I’m sure once he gets over it, he’ll remember all the times you knocked somebody out to protect him.”

“You remember that don’t you?” Raela winced as Felt chuckled. He waved at the baker, who gave him a wink and tossed him a bit of bread.

“You broke Lop’s nose.”

“Sorry.” The young woman was downcast.

“Don’t be.” Felt split the bread and passed her a piece. “He was an early bloomer, like you. And he lorded it over the younger and smaller kids. Having a girl two years his junior kick his ass taught him not to be a shitter. Humility is a good lesson to learn, especially for a hunter.”

“I just hope nobody will teach Alric humility the way I taught Lop. The kids he’s hanging around with…” Raela turned to stare at a group of similarly aged children rushing through the market, casting spells wherever they went. Shop keeps and stall owners yelled at them as their spells caused spills and some property damage. Alric was among them, giggling as a bigger child cast a gust of wind to send produce from a stall everywhere.

“They call themselves the tulip wizards. Why the Dragons, bless their hearts, allowed our children access to magic is beyond me.” Felt frowned at the sight. Raela began helping a stall owner pick up their wares. He shot her a grateful smile. “A ‘talented generation of wizards’, my ass.” Felt grumbled. “Talented troublemakers, more like.” The hunter noticed Raela’s forlorn expression. “Hey, no need to be so glum. Lop was the same as you, y’know? Quick to grow up, slow to get a Tome.”

Felt helped Raela back to her feet. She didn’t bother to dust off her pants; the young woman never minded the dirt.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Felt beamed. “Nobody never gets a Tome.” At Raela’s expression, he chortled and clarified. “You’ll get a Tome. I guarantee it. Remember, it isn’t the magic that makes you special. You make the magic special. And you, Raela Greenthistle, are one of a kind. You’ll see.”

<><><>

Rael opened their eyes. Their mouth felt dry and puffy. As Rael moved, they could feel their closed injuries, now nothing more than bruises, ache and creak. The sun was rising, a beautiful peach-pink and orange lightening up the horizon. Azmond was there, sitting by them mashing together barnacle goo on a makeshift plate. He had bags under his eyes.

“You should rest.” Rael noted in a raspy voice. Azmond shook his head.

“Drink.” Rael chugged down the slurry, then took a few mouthfuls of water they’d conjured.

“Are there things I could fix?” Rael practically whispered, headache worsening. Azmond shook his head. “Did my injuries stink when you removed the bandages?” Again, Azmond shook his head.

‘Not a major infection. Either the headache is from a concussion, thirst, or…a minor infection and the above. This sucks.’

Rael struggled to crawl over to the intact barrel as the child fussed about, unable to touch Rael for fear of hurting them. With a heave, Rael leaned against the drum and used their plate to scoop a few chugs of the hard liquor.

Whenever da—Jorge drank too much, he didn’t eat as much. Plus, maybe it’ll make this headache go away.

Before their head could begin to swirl, Rael overturned the drum so that most of the alcohol would spill over. Struggling, they managed to get the barrel upright again. The summoned the dagger and pointed it inside.

“[Create Water].” As water filled the container, Rael’s head began to swim.

Didn’t I manage to create water inside the barrel last time? And I didn’t even need to shape it. Thoughts…for…later…

Rael’s vision fuzzed again, and they slipped down the drum and collapsed into the netting completely.

“There I…gooooooo…”

<><><>

Felt’s funeral was a small one. All funerals in Tulip’s Hold were. As a small village born of scavengers profiting off a battlefield over seventy years ago, funerals were often cheap and close-knit. Even if Raela’s father was back from presenting his wares in Nize, he wouldn’t be there. He never attended any of the funerals, not even when Sabine had lost a sister to fever. But Raela was there. A few of Felt’s fellow hunters scowled at her, but they were quickly elbowed by their older peers.

Felt had been gored by the boar he’d been hunting. It was a strong one, graced by the might of the Dragons. Though some said it was graced by Yannis instead. It was over three hundred kilograms, and they’d found six arrowheads lodged in its hide among the injuries that felled it. Felt had delivered the killing blow; a spear through the mouth as it charged him and his son. A spit prepared for the roast. He’d made Lop promise to give Jorge fifty pounds of meat before he died.

Lop recounted the events as they set his father’s body on the pyre. As the twin moons hung above, they lit the flame and watched the embers dance among the stars. Most left before Felt’s body finished burning. Raela stayed until the crackling whispers of the hot dust faded away. Lop’s mother looked on, silent tears running down her cheeks. She scowled at Raela and opened her mouth to say something before Lop embraced her.

“Mom, it’s not her fault.”

“If her father—”

“Her father. Not her.” Lop whispered.

“She broke your nose!” She hissed.

“We were kids. And I was an ass.” He let out a somber chuckle. “Plus, Majilla says she likes the little bump. She says it makes me look like a warrior.”

His mother huffed and glared. Then nodded. “Fine.”

“I wanted to give you something.” Raela gingerly took out a knife in a sheath. “Eighteen-centimeter blade, clipped point.” Lop focused on the knife before his gaze trailed to Raela’s bandaged hands. “It took a few tries.” The young woman chuckled. “Understanding how to forge a knife and actually making a knife are more different than I’d thought. And my fists are used to the abuse.”

“Aren’t you worried about your father discovering the missing ingot?”

Raela shrugged.

“Yolfis miscounted. We had a spare ingot. I thought it’d be enough to practice, but I had to melt a few failures down to replace some ingots. Father won’t find out about it unless he pays attention in the next couple months. I wouldn’t have been able to do it in time if…”

Raela smiled mirthlessly and summoned her Tome. A rolled-up parchment, like those they’d used in school. One too similar to her father’s. Lop’s eyes widened.

“You got your Tome.”

“Yeah.” Raela looked it over. “I got Create Water and Shape Water to help with quenching at first, and I managed to study enough to get Minor Light and Ember to operate the forge later at night.”

Lop nodded for a second then stopped. He summoned his own Tome, a parchment as well. “Dad got me this spell when I first started. It really helps with hunting. You may find a use for it.”

He held his Tome to hers and there was a crackle of something. On Raela’s own Tome, a spell appeared.

Minor Sense Life.

“It’s a bit hard to distinguish what’s what at first, but it has a lot of potential. If I was using it better, I wouldn’t have been injured.” Lop emphasized his bandaged leg. “And Dad may still be alive.” Raela started to shake her head but Lop held up a hand to stop her. He unsheathed the knife and smiled. “It’s perfect.”

As he admired the knife, his mother approached Raela.

“Everyone knows the worth of your father’s word, Raela.” She spat. Her features softened. “I’ll make sure everyone knows the value of yours.”

<><><>

Rael woke to pain, and someone dabbing their head with a wet cloth. Their head felt like it was being split apart, fractured and burning. The soft light of the twin moons, one hiding behind the other, set lances of pain in Rael’s eyes.

“Owwwwwwww.” Maybe alcohol was a bad idea.

Rael closed their eyes and took in a deep breath. It still smelled like the seas and a bit like rotten eggs, courtesy of the decaying Calidaerum. There was also the whiff of recent rainfall from the wind that buffeted them, which may have explained why they felt less thirsty. Azmond had been working hard while Rael was unconscious. Rael opened a lazy eye to peek at the Calidaerum, watching Azmond shuck a few more barnacles off the sagging hide of the gasbag plant. He brought more back to Rael and held them in from of them.

“Thanks, Az.” Rael muttered. They took a few bites of the ‘food’ and managed to quell their gag reflex. ‘Good, I’m healthy enough for that.’

“Who’re Jorge and Sabine?”

“Where did you hear those names from.” It was less of a question and more a demand.

“Well,” Azmond looked away before meeting Rael’s gaze. “You were crying. Asking for their help when you were really hot a few days ago.”

“Days?”

“Ye.”

Rael let that sink in.

“Have you eaten enough?” They decided to ask. “Is there enough water?”

Azmond nodded but pointed to the Calidaerum. There were hardly any of the larger barnacles left. ‘That’s troubling.’

“We’ll be alright.” Rael steeled their expression. Azmond smiled. He nestled himself in Rael’s arm, where they could feel the tension leave from the body of the Child of Dragons. He closed his eyes and leaned into Rael as his breaths deepened and fell asleep under the starlit night.

Rael didn’t want to sleep. Already, the Calidaerum was rotting more, there was hardly any food, and there was no way to know where they were. No land on the horizon, no hope. Rael didn’t need hope. “We will be alright.” Rael asserted.

The Meta stared out into space, where the Dragons came from. It was told there was no air up there, no gravity, and forces of nature that would shred any normal being apart. The Dragons had been born in that void of life, nestling among weightless fields of boulders greater than any mountains. They drank from the ice and ate every flavor of light. They had less than Rael had now. And yet they thrived.

Rael didn’t need hope. Rael would hang on to any opportunity. By their fingernails if they had to.

<><><>

Raela watched as gold flowed from Halute’s hands, drowning her family in riches. She watched on as the gold kept flowing and flowing, bringing in iron and steel to its mass, then dirt and stone. Her family laughing and jeering at her at first, began screaming as they were crushed and assimilated. A dagger, one of the failures she’d made but kept for herself, ripped itself from the sheath behind her and dug through her body.

It cut through her, nearly splitting her in half from neck to navel, rushing out to join the mass of metal and stone as it coalesced into a being of many eyes, many fangs, many mouths. It sang in the voices of Rael’s family, its jagged teeth their crushed bones. As it grew, more voices joined the collective, saying a million different things in tongues old and new.

Just as it loomed over Rael to crush them, it collapsed into liquid and Rael was flung into the sky by an unseen force. They watched a horizon fractured by valleys of molten gold that shrank and shrank, until all Rael could see was a misshapen ball with gold cracks.

Rael felt bad for it, but they did not know why.

It flattened out to reveal a cracked mirror. Before Rael could understand their reflection, it cracked apart as their dagger lodged itself back in their chest, the mirror’s shrapnel digging into their leg, melding into it to form a silver prosthetic. The silver creeped up their body until they were encased completely. The void around them lit up with stars, shining brightly before petering out, leaving hundreds of equations that Rael could not make sense of.

They caught a few before the numbers faded.

C= 9.4607E+12

ERROR

ER4u4939eorOR

A lot of gibberish really, especially the last few.

1+1=2

2+2=4

1+1=1

2+2=1

The numbers gathered in a swarm of light until they condensed into a small ball. There was nothing. Only Rael, encased in silver, watching the ball of light crack. The more it cracked, the more it spun, until the cracks had connected. Just as the ball broke in a cacophonous tinkle, Real opened their eyes.

<><><>

There were men bringing them on a ship. It was a small skiff, oddly shaped too. Rael struggled to free themselves, throwing a weak punch at whoever was holding them.

“This’un’s a fighter, cap’n!”

“Good. She’ll be useful.”