7. Fury

Thoth watched the swirl. He saw the dust it had attracted continuing to dance around the breach. He perceived the flow of mana, now reduced to a pulsating tickle barely noticeable in his perception.

Where the nose tracked with certainty a lovely smell and his eyes looked at where the tracks were lost abruptly, his brain was kind of left in a mushy swamp across the infinity between.

Thoth closed his eyes, sealed his nostrils, ignored the soundwaves and slowly counted to ten. The picture did not change one bit. There were still some traumatised elves getting lashed at by an incredibly angry Elfriede.

Still batch after batch of newcomers stomping in, their long ears fanning like a duck taking flight. Elves look disgusted and mad. What's gotten into these xenophobic zealots? An elder detained by the ever-increasing number of elves that flooded in gave Thoth some ideas.

But he failed to pinpoint exactly what for they were nothing concrete. Duwende's colleagues who'd come on the scene somewhen, doubtful at first at the reasons for Elfriede's fury, didn't think so any longer after the nearest elf ran his mouth, validating her words as did the others until the truth settled in.

The explanation was standardised already, polished by repetition and stripped of anything but the necessity. A string of words that would paint a clear picture if put together, of which he was sure.

Yet Thoth forgot about the content each time. He stood in the middle of the bubble like a rock in the mighty sea, grasping at empty straws and coming up with nothing but foam. And just like a rock, the water rushed by without leaving an impression, leaving but fleeting foam.

Same with that stupid ball game. ...why do I think about that now? "[Greater Clarity III], [Greater Heal III], [Greater Mental Focus III]..." Thoth muttered spell after spell. The foam just wouldn't let him be. Stronger than many a foe, it stuck persistently.

In between his mutters, some elves came to him, shook his shoulder for a time, talked to him, asked questions or simply engaged in provocations. Probably to elicit an answer from him for some incomprehensible reasons.

Thoth didn't humour them. He was entirely alone and lost in his own world, all others erased from his perception. Somewhen down the line, he believed each elf in the bubble had at least touched him once, but in all honesty he couldn't care less.

"[Greater Hard Reset III]." Believing his sanity was threatened, he was quick to act. Thoth's perception was suddenly cut off entirely before sensations simply returned to the subjugating numbness, ultimately changing nothing.

Nothing came close to having any impact on him. Nothing exceeded the emptiness in his chest, the pain tagging along with the inexplicable loss he felt, the agony each second hammered down on his head.

Lost, Thoth kept an inner perceptive eye on his soul, questioning if something had impacted the swirling cloud of fragments glued together by his iron will and held in place with the help of immemorial seals.

That inner piece of junk didn't seem to look any different that day. An answer might not present itself, in which case I chose to make my own reason, a bewitching voice in his head told him, making some of the foam dissolve.

Thoth was truly spent on that stupid state of mind. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to sport a bright enough mind to find a quick way out. As a last resort to end this senseless struggle, Thoth let both thoughts and impressions wash past.

Indulging in the safety that lethargy provided did change things for the better. For once. Memories flooded him in the shape of a subjective telling of the past.

After many minutes, relatively old events finally broke through to his mind. When they came down here and his chest inexplicably tightened, Elfriede started shrieking for some reason.

Guards had looked at her with question marks contained in their gazes, intimidated by the raw fury engulfing her, the Great Prophet nobody remembered so emotional, so charged.

Much talking and pointing fingers happened thereafter. Thoth somehow had no idea why the whole circus came to be. His pain didn't allow him to focus even now. It felt familiar too but he couldn't place it. As if a part of him had locked away the memory.

However, within him, the more time passed, the greater the hatred for the state he was in grew, so he fought against the feeling, forcing his mind to wake from the stupor and focus on the crowd of clowns surrounding him.

"...traitor...Great Prophet...enemy...danger...retribution...," Thoth failed to understand the flow of the conversations. He had no way distinguishing who said what and why.

Yet no matter how much he focused on his ears, the feeling of being trapped in disgusting foam didn't relent any more. Even his countless spells seemed to have failed, suggesting the problem lay with nobody else but him.

Information he could do nothing with. The breach's receding, the bubble stable. The Great Tree won't come to harm anytime soon and no elf is hurt or dying. Why the gaggle? Why the shouting? Should I ask or is this personal?

Thoth barely remembered what he'd come here to do. Something about the young? Grabbing a spare baby bottle, he looked at his empty arms in surprise. Now where does the naughty parcel of happy giggles hide?

His gaze explored the bubble, his eyes easily spotting each and every elf part of the circus. She isn't here. Ah, yes. Now it's clear. Elfriede's attendant. Where's she again?

Thoth zoomed in on the weeping elf that matched the biological parameters in his head to a tee. He sometimes had trouble distinguishing the various members of the Races, which remembering data helped to remedy.

And what his brain learnt once, it'd never forget, only store away. There she is. But tears? What happened to make that face so bitterly distorted? Might be relationship trouble, heard that's quite the bummer.

Now to my parcel of happy giggles. Huh...she doesn't have the young? The pain in his chest intensified, the pressure rose. This rascal, always out of sight. Thoth smiled miserably, muttering, "[Greater Detect Karma III]."

So...the breach. The gravitational mess pointing everywhere and nowhere? Hehehe~. Since when do spells joke? Following a sudden impulse, Thoth inclined his scaly head so that his horns pointed towards Duwende.

The elf must have felt his gaze because he looked up just this moment, meeting his eyes. Past two black eyes, bruises and cuts, Thoth was sure he smiled. So he smiled back.

"Daemon." Which I'm not. But it's an old hat by now. Really, really old. "Your sacrificial offering must be the favourite of the breach. Accepted it happily and now it's closing. Rest in peace, Renon. Oh, my dear Renon. Renon!" What's he maundering about?

Thoth didn't even notice that the elf was in such bad condition he possibly couldn't utter any word. What he intercepted were his thoughts. The foam surrounding him suddenly grew denser and denser as it closed in mercilessly.

Thoth's headache and heartache also intensified as did the pressure. Whispers came to his ears, talking in the Language of Old. Then, the foam was no more, the pieces assembled and the clues crystal clear. No hiding possible either. No more. Thoth woke up, his mouth spewing blood and bile.

Duwende's ruined face looked even more gloating. But this devilish emotion was destined to be of very short nature. Elfriede just noticed the short exchange and pulled a fast one on him from across the room.

While jogging towards Thoth and ignoring the fainted elder, the Great Prophet donned a world-ending expression drenched in feelings of fear and guilt. Elfriede hoped to make it on time. Yet she wasn't lucky all the same. Thoth lost it completely then and there. His very essence going ballistic.

These events happened before Thoth arrived at the bubble. She ran, hopping over loose timber and the occasional stones floating above the swamp. Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit couldn't believe her brothers.

Qipsa'tee Scarl Ri'kit and her usually saw eye to eye, Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit not so much. But the latter was also from another mother, so by lizardmen standards it was already alright that he deigned to look at them.

Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit didn't remember her mother much. She was the last of seven eggs, the last to grow up, the last to speak, the last to learn the art of war, of glory and life.

Or rather of glory and death. She'd always been the last. Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit had no problem with that. Not after the deaths of five direct siblings and over fifteen others.

At the latest, when her father died did she come to terms with her slow learning speed. That was exactly what had kept her alive. The battlefield was filled with opportunity.

There was glory to be had, others to impress with legendary feats, enemies to slaughter in droves...and an early grave to laugh one in the face. That, too, was found on blood-soaked plains.

The slaughter in droves part was for the newly hatched to believe in. Usually, the events play out exactly the opposite. Yet with merely three years under her belt, she was already considered old in her community, considered a failure. Damaged, ill.

Her legendary father had conquered four females and sired five eggs at half her age. How he did that when lizardmen's physiology didn't allow for twins was a question she never asked up to now.

Might've been a legendary feat. Coming from a legendary father... Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit thought a bit too much, her distractedness adversely influencing her escape.

As a consequence, she didn't jump far enough and had to crawl the last distance through the shallow parts of the swamp. Idiot. Your brothers won't make the same mistake.

Just as she expected, the two didn't lose much speed on the same trail that'd cost her triple the time. Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit even sped up. That's why I'm content being denied the privilege to fight on the fronts. This illness...

"Give up, slowpoke. You were always a disgrace to our legendary father. So let me correct the mistake." "Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit, you gave me your word to not lay hand on my sister."

"Sister? That waste of meat is no proud daughter of the dragon believers. This is not your sister, this is your disgrace. It lies in your lesser lineage." "Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit!!!!" There he's again, badmouthing our mother.

Dying during egg-laying...he's sadly right. And I'm no better. There isn't even the egg-laying part. Not addressing each other by their full name was considered very offensive in their society, and by failing to retort she'd lost all honour.

But talking and dying is worse. Death is always worse. She knew nobody in her tribe would've considered her right in her mind by thinking such terribly distorted thoughts. But she couldn't help it. She never could.

Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit had always used her head first. This was the reason why her reaction time had never been at standard, why she was condemned to do manual labour instead of proudly fighting for the tribe.

Working in closed-off huts is not exactly conducive to stamina. It was a miserable excuse and she knew it. She was getting slower, her feet growing uncontrolled as her tired tail failed to counterbalance her abrupt movements.

Spraining her ankle, she was forced to limp towards a bigger rock and remain there, mind racing. "See, she's just like your mother, little Qipsa'tee. Can't take a beating."

The other lizardmen came to a halt not far from the stone Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit was stranded on. Anger filled his belly as his vertical eyes glowed with mana.

But a glance at Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit and his much darker scales promising superior defence among other things made him stop the folly. Attacking clansmen outside of the ring was punishable.

Targeting a legend? Punishable by death. He had eggs and wives at home, so Qipsa'tee Scarl Ri'kit couldn't flare up as he'd have liked. Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'ki knew that too. "You're so stupid."

Instead, her brother swallowed down his anger and tried to reason with the only remaining sister he had. "Father died because of an ambush." It was some guards, no more than three. "Hundreds of beastmen targeted him in enemy territory."

He was killing civilians. Butchering their families while the men were fighting at the front. Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit knew a bit more about their father because she asked around, conversed even with the occasional prisoners before they became food.

And that was defective behaviour. No lizardmen ever did question anything. Everybody knew their history, their enemy. They fought what had to be fought. With all their might. Two days of teaching the newly hatched made sure of that.

Two days at a time where most had yet to develop their ears completely. Father's legendary, yes. Father couldn't count to four as he was missing many digits.

That's probably why we only have four mothers... Catching herself engaging in such pagan thoughts, Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit's eyes widened in horror. There they're again. My defects. Flaring up. This illness.

"Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit!!! Why are you protecting our father's killers?" "Little Qipsa'tee, that defective product is different from the rest of our tribe. And differences must be eliminated before they do harm."

The legendary warrior stared hard at his tribesmen, ridicule abundant in his big, yellow eyes. "Kill it. Kill our enemy, sister. The tribe will thank you. There might even be a spot reserved for you on the frontlines. Or go back to work with the hatchlings."

Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit knew her brother was lying. He probably did too. If she gave up, two would die. But if she struggled until the end, the outcome was the same. SO why did he try so hard? The answer was simple.

Honour was the only difference her choice made. Honour only her brother would find useful. "It is only a hatchling, brother." Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit snorted before he could answer, interrupting her efforts at convincing her kin.

"You're not only slow but also stupid...," The legendary warrior continued to talk down on her like one would to a disabled. Which he probably thinks I am. "...that's one more reason to get rid of it.

Once the beast grows, there will be one more enemy to kill. Another menace ready to slaughter my brave warriors." "It's innocent. Barely hatched. Hasn't grown yet."

She couldn't help but retort, the flaws in his words so glaringly evident she'd trouble understanding why others didn't catch on to them. Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit grew visibly annoyed at her erroneous persistence. He had other things to do, skulls to crack and fights to win. Ambushes to plot.

Killing the cast out would bring him so little honour, it was first and foremost a chore. If their father hadn't been one and the same, he wouldn't have even come here.

"He's a beastman," the lizardman hissed, "and no beastman is free of sins—" "She. She's female." "None of my business." Could've said she gives birth to more enemies. Doubt he thinks this far.

Sa'nout Scarl Ri'kit grimaced as her illness was flaring up again. "...she's cute and cannot fight at all." She muttered in defeat. Convincing them was impossible after all.

Xhul'imar Zlat'huasq Ri'kit looked at her incredulously, the comment that would make a certain someone smile radiantly for days was lost on them. Or not quite. After all, her brother grabbed the spear in his hand with more force, veins protruding everywhere. "You're no lizardmen, mutant. You...are a mistake."

And with that, the legendary warrior jumped closer, his beautiful spear stabbing at her. But it literally fell from the sky. Our beastmen enemies don't have that ability, else we'd be dead already.

As if in trance, Sa'nout Scarl Ri'kit evaded the jab miraculously, making her half-brother's dark scales take on an even darker hue. That's it. He's angry now. No fooling around any longer. No escape either.

She glanced down at the hatchling in her arms, now shrieking miserably as stress and fear got ahold of her. The unpleasant smell mixed with the poisonous swaths of the swamp made her brothers even more aggressive, the dirty water and grime splashing left and right.

Qipsa'tee Scarl Ri'kit joined the legendary fighter from a respectable distance away. Now that a flurry of stabs and sweeps were coming her way, she had no luck anymore.

Injuries piled up after injuries and Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit eventually got the nagging suspicion her brothers were prolonging this unnecessarily. A mutant's end...how fitting.

With no power left to struggle, she threw her heavy body over the hatchling. I am so sorry. Her thoughts waned just as her blood did, painting the stone greenish-red as flesh was thorn and bones protested.

Without her noticing, there was a layer of pure distortion covering the hatchling as the bracelet she held in her small hands thrummed to life. Yet that wasn't so for long. Suddenly, it all stopped. Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit waited for a moment, unsure if this was rather terminal lucidity than a change of events.

In the end, she still opened her eyes and looked around, snout agape. The swamp was gone. Her brothers too. The hatchling? The weight in her arms suggested that she was still there.

Sa'nout Rak'taza Ri'kit forced the focus to return to her eyes, before instinctively bringing the baby closer to her bosom, loudly swearing to not let it die before her. For all it was worth.

All the while, a gargantuan monster beyond the greatest nightmare of all time was staring at her, its many cruel ashen eyes, each distorted in its own right, dissecting her from top to bottom. Then she fainted, the loss of blood too serious.

When Thoth finally realised the sad truth and snapped, a wave of monstrous mana crashed into the booklet chained to his waistbelt. It groaned like wood ready to burst at any moment, trembled and howled like a waking beast on a leash.

The ancient piece floated up as high as the thin chains allowed it to, its pages fluttering without abandon. Once the end was reached and no pages were left to turn, they all broke free.

Homeless and without a target demanding their attention, the pages shook, split down into tiny letters and gathered around Thoth, fusing with him as indescribable changes overcame his body.

That moment every elf inside the bubble knew they fucked up. And every single elf native to this realm felt their hearts tighten and fear balloon to incredible heights.

Flesh ripped apart and inverted leathery wings grew in the dozens out of the squishy lumps, each uniquely misshapen. The horns on his head multiplied, crowning him as they grew thicker and stronger, covering his spine and tail before pieces of pure darkness wrapped around them like armour.

Thoth's inverted pupils awoke to a distorted life of their own, growing ever so narrow as more popped out all over his face, chest, arms and legs. The maw elongated and pointy teeth became serrated, extending row after row all the way down to his ancient gully.

What once remotely resembled human extremities had now lost all semblance to any one member of the Races. Limb after limb now popped into existence as letters straight from the forbidden booklet nestled in between his flesh.

Lines of power crisscrossed Thoth's body, vaguely resembling the tattoos he'd conjured not that long ago by using fusion magic, but at the same time seeming much more than just that.

Yet the arguably greatest change happened to his size. Thoth, or rather that unspeakable creature showing no iota of intelligence besides crude instincts, grew and grew...and grew.

The bubble burst, the walls cracked, the dirt above couldn't stop the expansion, entire buildings were torn apart and unlucky folk were crushed by either him or the debris.

Stopping just below the ominous cloud bank of thunderous nature bottling out the sun, an incomprehensible voice full of ancient might and inviolable authority soon rang in every cognizant being's head.

A long string of ridiculous words of raw essence and power followed, forcing the weak-minded to faint by instinct. Hearing too much of that language would've had far worse consequences.

The creature remained silent for a few seconds thereafter before mana condensed all around it from all over the realm, pulling and tugging at the reserves as space cracks tore open and some unlucky predators hiding between the cracks of illusion and reality were torn asunder.

It rained blood and despair in spades. Under the suction, the whole realm of the high elves almost popped. While chaos reigned supreme, nobody but a panicky Elfriede understood the creature's next and final words. "[Planar Desaster: Karmic Reconnection]."

That moment, throughout the planes, realms, worlds and dimensions, everyone at a certain power level felt the changes happening on a fundamental level. Felt all in creation quiver and groan as nothing was spared to fulfil a certain wish.

Those connected by karma had it even worse, as the entirety of colossal consciousness checked up on their very existence, relenting only when the feedback didn't match the given template.

With horror in her eyes did Elfriede notice that the shaking of the realm had intensified once more. Until a hole was torn open in mid-air and a neither small nor big figure fell through.

The unspeakable creature grew entirely stiff for a moment before impossibly strong emotions of happiness and relief ran through everyone's mind who happened to be on the high elf's realm at that time.

Elfriede too felt relief. Her home realm still stood, albeit battered. Yet before she could heave a breather, elation turned to icy fury and the creature began to chant again in that incomprehensible, strained and slow.

Gold-purple blood ran down the creature's mighty body, but it didn't seem to care. At the end of the long chant, all blood evaporated and a single intelligible demand was spoken yet again. "[Divine Command: Bloodcurse, Regression]."

Afterwards, the creature shrank instantly, letters and tattoos tearing from its body as the bloody holes they left behind started healing in turn. The smaller its size became, the easier it was to recognise in the mess of pulsating flesh and blood Thoth's appearance.

At the end of the ordeal, Thoth's scaly face full of sweat appeared for her to see. Just the colour of his scales didn't match. An ominous tone neither black nor any other clearly discernable colour had covered most.

They also seemed to have grown some more, reducing the space bereft of them. Few elves cared about his changed appearance. The jumbled letters took their attention. Few lucky survivors watched them compress themselves into pages, merging safely with the cover and the chain.

Others stared at nothing in particular, their souls shaken. None thought of revenge as of yet. The booklet might look rather rugged and worn, but it existed again, dangling from Thoth's waistbelt like before.

Even his clothes had returned after the transformation was undone in its entirety, suggesting another disaster incoming if their people indulged in rashness as opposed to simple acceptance of the sudden change. For the time being, the elves only knew that this day wasn't over yet.

So they watched. Watched the member of the lizardfolk floating behind Thoth, thoroughly drenched in mud, blood and covered in wounds both big and small.

Watched the baby she hugged clutch a certain bracelet fiercely. Watched as Thoth grabbed her with delicate movements, fondling her fragile body as she smiled in her sweet, tranquil sleep as dirt fell off the lizardwoman and her, the stench dissipating as bone was mended and wounds closed.

They. Watched.