The Monster of the Ways slithered across the floor of the cavern, it’s deadly chain wrapped around it. It could unravel most of it given time but time was something it did not have for the medusae wielding that deadly sword ran at it, their body shifting and changing to blend into the background beyond it. And the background was easy to blend into because it had filled up with fog and mist that had all billowed in down a side passage. The mist of the Umberlago.

The Monster looked up into the mists, it couldn’t see the two little eyes of the Umberlago but it knew it was there. The whole cavern reeked of it. The Monster knew it couldn’t battle such a creature in its current state, wrapped up in its chain and evading the medusae, but the Umberlago did not seem interested in the Monster, it was looking at something else.

The Monster scrabbled frantically to unravel the chain. If it could get enough of it loose it could fling it at the medusae like a whip. But it couldn’t, so it had to do something it had feared the whole time. The medusae lunged at it with the deadly Inkdrop Blade and the Monster lunged back, letting the blade bounce off its skin and crushing the medusae with its claws. Long ago that blade had cut it once and taken its original name, now it returned and the cut seemed less severe this time, the Monster wasn’t sure it could feel it at all. Maybe the second time that blade cut you was harmless. The Monster cautiously began to unravel the chain, content at losing no more to that sword.

Then it heard the screams. The entire cavern seemed to echo with them and the monster clutched its claws to its sensitive ears but that didn’t help. The screams were everywhere, in the cave, in its ears, in its head. They weren’t the screams of humans or monsters, they were the unholy screams of something not of this world at all. A demon, a demon here to tear the monster apart. It flailed on the floor, desperately seeking an escape from the sound when something cold and wet landed on it. Something cool that seemed to not be violently shaking the screams. The monster looked at it. It was ink. More inkdrops began to fall, drenching the whole cavern. The Monster let them fall and let them drown out the screams. Soon it was drenched in ink and mist and slowly the screaming began to fade. It opened its many eyes and looked out across the cavern. A cavern filled with ink and dead and dying medusae. It flexed its many claws and blinked its many eyes. The screams were fading and while it was raining ink the ink seemed harmless. Slowly and cautiously, the Monster slithered forward.

Rana stepped out of the prison of Irasada, still holding the Inkdrop Blade in one hand, completely dripping with the black ink of the demon. Behind her Irasada gave her last screams and slipped into death, the mother of the medusae, whom they had bound for so long, achieving her freedom at last. Before Rana were two monsters. The Chained Monster who slowly slithered across the cave to investigate the fake inkdrop blade and the Umberlago. That huge creature, cloaked in mist, now finally having its form revealed by the raining drops of ink that coated it. It was thin and wolflike with long terrible legs that ended in those huge and terrible claws. It stared down at her with its two small eyes. She stared right back with black eyes dripping with ink.

Sal lay in the corner of the room and trembled, gazing at the dead majesty of Irasada, the Mother of the Medusae. She was dead, her last shudders of life wracking her body. Truly Sal had never cared for Irasada, the demon queen of lies who had so cursed his people when she’d created them. But without her there was no way to create more medusae. Without her his species was doomed to extinction even if they could create one of their special sorcerers. Sal slowly stood up on trembling legs. Drenched in the inkdrops that were now pouring down from the ceiling, he grinned.

The Monster turned from the sword, now drenched in ink and fixed its many eyes on the figure that had just emerged into the room. The Monster knew little of gods and demons but it had visited the Monolith long ago. The Monolith that bound Qinar, the Demon God of Stone. It knew the foul otherworldly smell of demons and this figure reeked of it. They had black eyes. That wasn’t normal for humans or medusae, and the eyes were dripping with ink, just like the walls and ceiling of the chamber.

The Monster prowled closer, ignoring the towering figure of the Umberlago that still lurked within the cave. That creature seemed to have ignored it so far and it was confident it could bolt out of the cave if the bigger, much slower creature, took too much interest in it. So instead it looked at the figure, and it soon realized that the figure carried another Inkdrop Blade.

Rana stepped forward toward the Chained Monster, watching its many eyes fixate upon her. She was no longer drowning in the ink and lies of her mind. Now she commanded them. Now she was dancing upon the sea of ink.

“I am the Inkdrop Queen,” she spoke to the monster and the magic of Irasada, absorbed through the sword, fueled her words. They were ancient and terrible, understandable by any being, be they monsters or humans, and of course, all of them lies. “If you face me I shall call upon my demonic form and slay you here and now in this chamber.” She raised up the sword and settled comfortably into a battle stance. “I look forward to it.”

The Monster stood there for a second and the black ink rain continued to pour, coating the chamber floor and dripping down all those standing in it. The Monster slowly unraveled its chain, now slick and loose with ink. The chain clattered and clanged against itself and the stone making the only sound in the chamber other than the drops of rain. The medusae both living and dying waited with baited breath for the Monster’s decision. The Umberlago, towering over them all, watched with its small eyes.

The Monster’s chain finally became unravelled, revealing that the last hooks of it dug deep into the skin of its arms, unable to be removed by its clumsy claws. Then it turned and ran, disappearing down the chamber, splashing through the ink.

Rana smiled and looked around at what medusae were left. She had done it, she-

The Umberlago, ever curious, reached over with its great claws and split the sword wielding figure in half to see how she worked.

Sessryn found the Inkdrop Queen, the original one, dying by the river. She clearly hadn’t eaten in days and looked up at Sessryn with dazed and confused eyes.

“My... my soldier... Traitor...” she muttered and Sessryn looked down at her sadly. This woman had led their armies to almost conquer the Hallowed Realm itself, taking the crown from the incompetent Lord Elkring. Yet here she was, reduced to little more than a dying refugee in the Wilderness. She’d even had her sword taken from her by Rana. She had nothing and barely seemed like she even wanted to be saved. But Rana was going to save her anyway.

She leapt down from the horse and tossed her old queen over the back of him, securing her to the saddle so she wouldn’t fall. It was hardly the most dignified arrangement for someone who’d once been such a powerful noble and warlord. But it would have to do.

As she tied the queen, who was too weak to do more than groan in protest, to the saddle, Sessryn felt something cool and quiet land on her hand. She looked at the black smudge that lay there and slowly looked up at the sky. Clouds were spreading across the sky from the cave she’d just left. Clouds as black as ink. Part of her wanted to stay, part of her for some reason wanted to walk right back to the centre of those clouds and learn what was going on, to give in to the brewing storm of lies. But a much bigger part of her was sick of this forest and everything in it, so she mounted the horse and rode away, dragging her dying queen with her. Around her the drops of ink from the storm began to fall.

Sal staggered back into the main chamber and watched in horror as the Umberlago’s huge claws descended on Rana and ripped her in half. They went through her like she wasn’t there and before he knew it the Umberlago was picking up her torn remains as they fell away before it. No, they weren’t falling away, they were dripping away.

Sword, clothes and all, what was left of Rana turned to ink and fell into the puddle of it that covered the entire floor of the cave. The Umberlago tilted its head curiously, had it been tricked, or was Rana really made out of ink now?

The middle of the floor exploded up in a burst of ink and Rana flew out of it, plunging her sword toward the ink drenched body of the Umberlago. The creature let out an unearthly whimper before its body seemed to dissipate into mist and the ink that had coated it fell down, covering Rana. When that ink splashed to the floor ten Rana’s stood up from it, each of them with ink spilling from their eyes and mouths, each of them searching for the Umberlago that still lurked in the cave.

Sal didn’t see the Umberlago reform but Rana did and her and all her copies fell down back into the pool of ink as the great claw swept across them. Ten blades of ink swung up after the claw passed over them but they all bounced off it. They would need to cut flesh to wound the Umberlago.

Sal was finding it hard to see now with how much ink was drenching the cave, drenching him. The copies of Rana all split up and the Umberlago seemed to be searching for an exit. Its long thin wolflike body flowing over its long legs to a small side passage in the wall of the chamber. But a copy of Rana emerged from the ink on the floor and swung a blade at it driving it away. It went to another exit and once more a copy appeared. The copies likely weren’t the real Rana but the Umberlago wasn’t willing to take that chance. It whimpered once more as the many figures began to surround it and the storm beat down on it.

It tried to dissipate into mist but the inkdrops were so intense that they pounded the mist to the ground and it had to quickly reform but with its leg at the wrong angle. Its small eyes frantically searched for a way out as all the copies of Rana and presumably Rana herself surrounded it. Each one dripping with ink from their eyes and their mouth. Each of the swords swinging and whispering illegible words. Names, Sal realised, the names the sword had taken, and it was about to take one more. Likely along with the creature’s life.

“Rana!” Sal shouted and all the copies and the Umberlago looked to him. He struggled to speak with the ink dripping into his eyes and mouth but he spoke anyway. “There has been enough violence and death today,” he said and watched as the many copies of the human he’d watched become this monster all looked at him with angry black eyes.

Then, one by one the copies dripped away back into the growing puddle of ink beneath them. Only one Rana remained and that one looked up at the wounded Umberlago before her. She spoke again in her commanding demonic voice.

“Leave us,” she said and the Umberlago obeyed. The once terrifying creature crawling away, desperately to escape the Inkdrop Queen and her storm. Rana watched it go. She had done it, she’d won. She dissolved into ink and disappeared.

The Salamander stood atop the Runerock. A ruin of a medusae structure, built when the humans were still living in caves. The Salamander had been alive when it had been built but the thousands upon thousands of years had turned the memory into nothing but mist and haze. What they did remember was the Serpent’s Horn that had hung there and that they now held in their hands. The horn that would call the medusae in times of emergency. The last time it had been blown was after the Monster of the Ways had destroyed them all at Meduramanth, now it had just been blown again. The Salamander waited as all across the Wilderness, all across the world, medusae heard it.

“How many will come?” a young medusae asked. One of the second generation, the Ferret, one who had run and had narrowly avoided dying on the Panther’s spear.

The Salamander shrugged. “Many are dead, and many fear to show their faces,” the looked down at the Panther who looked away in shame. “But many will come.”

A figure walked out of the Wilderness, a figure Sal had seen many times before but never like this. A human woman wielding an inkdrop blade but without scars or inkstains, without black eyes or ink dripping from her. Rana looked healthy for someone who had just slain a demon and absorbed some of its power.

The medusae looked at her warily. Even though the storm had stopped much of the forest was still drenched in ink and it was unclear whether she was to blame. Sal found it difficult to trust her either, he had been so stupid, believing her even when he knew he couldn’t. She had threatened to kill him and now here she was.

“No more of your race can be born,” she said bluntly, calmly sitting down on a log. “You have no more need for sorcerers.”

“How do we know she isn’t lying-?”

“You are not welcome here human-!”

“What did you do to our-?”

Rana’s eyes went black and bled ink, black clouds gathered in the sky and the shadows grew longer, fear and dread and hopelessness emanated from the once so calm figure sitting on the log. The medusae were silent. Then it all vanished and Rana was normal once more.

“If you produce any more sorcerers I shall hear of it and I shall find you. You may hide among humans but you may not hide from me.”

The medusae were still silent. The Salamander was too. Could Rana actually find them? Could she see their true forms when they took human ones? If anyone could do that surely it would be Irasada, but Rana wasn’t Irasada. She just had some of her powers and Sal was starting to believe that she had far less of her powers than it appeared. What better way to hide your true abilities than with the illusions and magics of the Queen of Lies herself. What if, Sal was beginning to wonder, she still couldn’t tell the truth? Sal looked down at his brethren, all gathered before the Runerock. He wanted to believe that no more sorcerers would be created and that Rana would stop them. But who could be sure when you were dealing with the Demon Queen of Lies?

Far away the Dragonfly heard the Serpent’s Horn and stopped running through the forest. They could go to the Runerock and reunite with what was left of their people but what would be the point? Some medusae may have survived but unless the Monster was dead they would never survive for long. They collapsed to the ground, panting, exhausted, they had run a long way. They had run even out of the Inkdrop Storm and so the ground wasn’t soft and muddy to collapse into but hard and full of rocks. The Dragonfly looked down at the rocks and remembered. Long long ago when they’d chained Irasada to be able to make more medusae they had gotten the chains from Qinar, the Demon God of Stone. An inevitable god whose actions were written in rock, as slow as they were unstoppable. The Dragonfly looked up and there was the Monolith, that rock in which was bound Qinar.

Demons did not speak as mortals spoke apart from Irasada and her lies but Qinar made himself understood. It was time, the Dragonfly learned, to pay up their end of the bargain. The Dragonfly slowly stood up on trembling legs. They wished they could go to the Runerock now, but they were bound by other rules. The Monolith vanished and they were alone in the forest again. They slowly stood up and began to walk. Their entire race had made that deal, why was it them who had to fulfill it?

In the ancient cavern of the medusae all the oldest and mightiest warriors save the impulsive and reckless Panther lay dead. The Dragonfly, for all their fear, was the best the medusae had left to offer.