Chapter 172 - Forgotten Blood VI

The old lyrkress was not unaware of the other moose-snake’s presence. She spotted her as she walked onto her property, but continued to sing. No further attention was given to the duke’s daughter until the verse reached its conclusion.

While Claire did not expect to be outright ignored, she remained silent and patiently waited until the older sea creature was done with her song. She had thought that the old lady would react with surprise or perhaps even shock upon catching sight of her, but she was struck with neither. Scoffing instead, she leaned back into her chair, gripped the armrests, and spoke in a raspy croak, completely unalike the beautiful singing voice with which she made her first impression.

“Why are you still here? That song’s supposed to irritate kelpies.”

“I’m not a kelpie.”

The older sea creature leaned forward and gave her a closer look, “Then what are you?” but her vision impeded her from arriving at a conclusion.

“A lyrkress.”

The lady’s first reaction was a laugh, followed shortly after by a coughing fit. “Young lyrkresses don’t exist.” Still chuckling, she picked up a glass of a dark, brown liquid and poured half of it down her throat. “There are only a few of us left, and we’ve all long passed the age where it’s possible for us to bear children. Go home, kelpie. I’ve got nothing to say to a cheap imitation.”

Indignance flared through the back of Claire’s mind, but she kept it suppressed and faced the old woman with her usual blank stare. “I wasn’t born as a lyrkress. I ascended. And became one.”

“Even more ridiculous. Kelpies can’t become lyrkrian. No matter how much they try.” The old woman slowly pushed herself off her chair and dragged her body over to the door.

“I was never a kelpie. I was a halfbreed.”

“Between a seahorse and a sea snake? That makes you a kelpie.” She moved to close the door behind her, but Claire held it open with a vector.

“Between a land moose. And a land snake.”

The old lady frowned for a moment before stepping back outside. “Come here then. Let me get a better look at you.” She beckoned with her tail, the scales of which were mostly a light green. Her hair looked as if it was once the same colour. There were a few strands still dyed with a piercing verdant sheen, but most were faded into a ghastly white. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

When Claire approached, however, she found herself greeted not with the old lady’s gaze, but rather a smack to the head. She was hit with a fan of sorts, made of materials taken from a nearby tree. The attack did no damage; she felt not even the slightest bit of pain, but it made a loud crack, an intimidating thwack that started the nearby birds and drove them from their branches.

“Are you stupid? That just makes it more impossible! You only get lyrkrian children from lyrkresses and lyrkurs! And what’s that damned thing in your chest? We don’t have those!”

“I’m a variant,” said Claire. “A frostblight lyrkress.”

The old lady didn’t quite seem convinced, but eventually breathed a sigh after staring into her eyes. “Fine, you know what? Let’s say you really are a lyrkress. What’s it to me? And why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” The old lady reacted to the statement with an annoyed twitch, but the blueblood ignored it and continued. “This island was the closest one. We would have stayed on the beach. If I didn’t hear you sing.”

“So the song did not bother you?” The older lyrkress raised a brow as she slowly walked circles around her younger counterpart.

“Not at all,” said Claire.

“How bizarre… how incredibly bizarre.” She stepped on Claire’s flippers and happily nodded when they were jerked away and folded back. The other party, of course, was not nearly as entertained. She was tempted to pick the ancient sea creature up by the face, but stopped herself short of acting on the impulse. It was her first time encountering another one of her kind, and engaging in hostilities almost felt like a waste of a rare resource.

“You really are one of us,” muttered the elder. “I can’t believe it.” She poked at Claire’s cheeks, at the scales that were one of the key differences, and gave them a pinch. “But you have some extra features as well. Wrong ones. Must’ve been the ascending that messed it all up.” Eventually, she put an end to the rude examination and stood face to face with her once more. “You said you didn’t know I was here, right?”

“I didn’t.”

“What an interesting coincidence…” She lowered her gaze with her hand to her chin and shook her head. “Or perhaps not. The circumstances line up far too well for it to be one of those.” When she looked back up, she did so with her eyes alight. “I’ll have you know, you’re my first guest in thirty years,” she said, with a cackle. “And this place, it’s not one so easy to reach. You must have been guided, by one divine force or another.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.” The old lady smiled and returned to her seat. “I’m Kal’syr of Avande’arr, last of the Lyrkrian Spiritguards, and the high priestess of the flow, when our people fell to the imposters.”

Claire gripped her skirt and performed a picture perfect curtsy. “And I am Claire. I became a Frostblight Lyrkress less than one month ago, and how much longer one I will remain, I have not the slightest clue.”

The old lady frowned. “What a shame. I was hoping that you would be willing to birth a few more of us. Our population has dwindled to the point where it might as well be moot. I know of only one other that lives.”

The half-moose shook her head. “If I was content with being used as a tool to bear children, then I never would have become a lyrkress at all.”

Kal’syr smiled, warmly. “I passed on that same duty when I was your age too. That’s why I became high priestess to begin with.” She took a moment to look over the horizon, into the past. “You said that you had companions?”

Claire nodded.

“Bring them. I’ll house you tonight.”

The kind offer was met with a suspicious gaze.

“Of course, not for free. I’d like you to listen to me ramble and maybe even learn a bit about our people while you’re at it. So that our blood will not simply be lost to time and forgotten.”

Claire frowned. “I’ll try. But lectures and sermons bore me. I can never pay attention for long.”

“I’ll keep it short then.”

The younger lyrkress took a moment to evaluate the twinkling windows into the older lady’s soul. “Fine. I’ll be back.” Giving Kal’syr a moment to herself, she retraced her steps and returned to the collapsed catgirl. Lia was already awake. She was sitting up on the beach with her eyes open and chest heaving. Water spilled from her throat with every other breath, a constant cough that persisted even as Boris patted her on the back.

His assistance was effectively moot. He had a hard time remaining balanced while standing upright, and would more often than not accidentally hit her with too much of his weight, causing her to choke on the water she was trying to eject.

“You’re awake,” said Claire. Taking the lizard’s place, she lightly hit the cat until all the water was ejected from her lungs.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on me while I was out,” muttered Lia, between coughs.

“I had Boris do it. I was investigating the island.”

“I wanted you to do it.” Natalya wiped off her lips with her tail and turned to face the lyrkress with the saddest puppy-dog face she could manage, but it was outright ignored. The only response Claire offered was a mildly annoyed variant of her usual blank stare.

“If you’re well enough to be a stupid pervert, then you’re well enough to get up.” She casted a quick spell and pulled the cat to her feet. “Someone lives here. She told us we could stay.”

“You didn’t beat or threaten her into submission, did you?”

Natalya’s question was met with a curious tilt of the head.

“Why would I? I’m not a barbarian.”

“Yes, but you’re Cadrian.”

Ignoring the remark, Claire strapped Boris to her back and returned to Kal’syr’s lodge. Only during the second trip did she take the opportunity to examine the home and its surroundings in more detail. Almost every single one of the forest’s many trees was fruit-bearing, but none of them stood out to her as varieties she recognized. There were purple, elongated berries, spiky red nuts, and even some that looked to be made of more flesh than fibre.

And yet, the wildlife was kept at a minimum, only a few insects, hogs, and landlocked birds. It was otherwise completely silent, devoid of all the usual pests that would make such a forest their home.

Kal’syr’s residence was just as quiet and peaceful. There was a single large tree growing next to a beautiful two-story home, complete with a porch, a deck, and even a balcony atop the second floor. It almost seemed too big for one person, with the large, polished stone under the magnolia all but explicitly explaining the lack of another party.

“This is Natalya.” Claire waited for the seahorse to raise her eyes before introducing the cat. All the standard greetings soon followed, but the moose tuned them out in favour of exploring her surroundings.

While the party’s designated speaker did her job, the lyrkress wandered over to one of the chairs set up atop the lawn. She sat down in it to find her body a perfect match for its lengthy crescent seat. It was comfortable, satisfying as a perfectly tailored sock or glove. Once comfortable, she closed her eyes and focused on searching for the last member of their group. Catgirl detector was failing to catch her, and her ears weren’t doing any better. Not even rising into the sky, chair and all, allowed her to locate the missing canine.

It was only as she was about to give up that she felt a sudden distortion. A rift opened in the space next to her, an application of force magic not completely unfamiliar.

Sylvia rowed out of it with a tired cheer. “Whew! I finally made it through! That stupid barrier was tough as heck to crack!” She was looking somewhat haggard. Her hair was even messier than usual, and her tail had a few tufts of fur sticking out of random places. Even her clothing was somewhat disheveled, though it was much better off than the boat. The freshly purchased vessel was riddled with holes. Its hull was completely shattered in places, and its metal fixtures either rusted or removed. It was a wonder that it was still in one piece.

“Hey Claire!” Dropping the oars, the fox greeted the other halfbreed by sticking out her tongue. “See? I told you I wouldn’t just randomly leave you alone again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The half-lamia smiled before slowly floating over to the foxgirl and squeezing her shoulders tight. It was brief, with the lyrkress withdrawing her arms shortly after and sitting down in the half-broken canoe. “What barrier?”

“Oh, it’s just outside! There’s this really weird barrier that kinda keeps this place separate from the rest of the dungeon, and it’s super complicated for no reason.”

Claire slowly tilted her head and blinked. “We’re in a dungeon?”

“Yup! And a really big one too. It took me forever to find you, and I even had to beat up a weird fishy thing that wasn’t a fish. It kept bothering me when I was trying to break in.”

Again, Claire blinked. “A fishy thing that isn’t a fish?”

“Yeah! I thought it was a fish, but the log said it was a leviathan. And it wasn’t tasty. Fish are tasty.”

“You ate the leviathan?”

“What else was I gonna do with it, silly?” Sylvia took her hands off the oars and stretched. “Anyway, we should probably go. I’m pretty sure this dungeon’s the kind that needs to be reset for its bosses to repopulate. The only one left is a really cute duck I don’t want you to kill.”

“Not right now. I agreed to something already. And it’s something I should see through.” Claire applied a gentle force to the boat and gently lowered it to the ground. The same could not be done for the poor chair. Because it had slipped from her mind, it had long fallen from the sky and crashed into the waves. “Which floor are we on now?

“Uhmmmm…” Sylvia furrowed her brow. “I’m not really sure. I think this is some sorta subspace that’s in the dungeon but also not really in it at the same time. It’s kinda like a floor, except this dungeon doesn’t actually have floors! Or at least I don’t think it does.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, it’s technically part of the dungeon, but it’s also not actually connected to any of the other parts,” explained Sylvia. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Claire. She stepped out of the boat as it hit the ground and led the foxgirl towards the others. “We were washed away.”

“Huh… that’s really weird, but oh well whatever, I guess.” Sylvia turned into a fox as she got off the ruined canoe. She was quick to scamper up the length of Claire’s body and reprise her usual seat. “Not like it really matters. I still found you and stuff.”

“Mhm.” Patting the fox on the head, Claire walked through the forest yet again and joined back up with the rest of the group.

The evening went by in the blink of an eye. Dinner was a collection of fruits gathered from the forest, with one of the strange meaty pomes serving as the main dish. According to Kal’syr, it was grown from the pork tree, whose seeds would grow not into other trees, but tiny piglets if buried beneath the earth. It was only on their deathbeds that the porkers would complete the cycle and become trees in their own right. When it was time, they would apparently plant their uncloven hooves into the ground and sprout of their own accord.

Sylvia and Natalya retired soon after the meal. The cat went to the bedroom she was assigned, but the fox fell asleep before she made it all the way. She lay in a small ball in the hallway, until she was magically retrieved to be held in Claire’s arms.

Most of the lyrkrian halfbreed’s time was spent next to a fireplace, listening as the old lady talked about a land long lost, about the lyrkrian kingdom of Avande’arr, about its culture, its people, and its technologies. And during the wee hours of the night, she even told her of its fall, of how it degraded and was swallowed by the dungeon that appeared in the waters beneath it.

Because it was framed more like a story than a history lesson, Claire found herself enraptured. She even committed many of its details to memory, thinking that it would be a shame for them to be forgotten when Kal’syr joined her husband beneath the ancient magnolia in her garden.

“I would have liked to teach you much more if we had the time,” The once high priestess took a sip from a cup of tea as she walked out onto the veranda. “But that would take years, years that neither of us have.”

Claire shook her head. “I’m going to ascend soon. And I doubt I’ll remain a lyrkress.”

“That’s a shame,” said the old woman. “I doubt you’ll be able to repeat our song once you change your race, but I still want you to learn it.” She extended her frame as far as it would go, keeping only her tail attached to the floor. The rest of her body was held straight up, with her legs and fins both tucked in and her hands clasped in front of her chest. And then, she began to sing.

It was a gentle but passionate melody. She could hear where the trumpets and drums were meant to slot in, and where the choir was meant to take its place. Even though the old lady was hardly a bard. And just like the other melody, the piece she had heard when they first met, it stirred her to her core. She didn’t know why or how, but she found herself joining in halfway. The lyrics sprang from within her throat. Even though the words were unintelligible, sung in an ancient tongue unconverted to Marish.

Log Entry 6072

You have acquired the Singing skill.

Log Entry 6073

You have unlocked the Faithless Priestess class.

Log Entry 6074

You have completed “A Test of Patience.”

The scope of your ascensions have been increased and 500 ability points have been acquired.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest even before the next log was read aloud. Because she could feel it. Something about her body had fundamentally changed.

Log Entry 6075

You have leveled up. Your health and mana have been restored and all harmful status effects have been cleansed.

Your racial class, Frostblight Lyrkress, has reached level 250 and qualified for evolution.

You have been awarded the following bonuses for reaching Frostblight Lyrkress’ final milestone.

- 250 points in all ability scores

You have gained 12 ability points.

Log Entry 6076

Your tertiary class slot has been unlocked.

She refrained from questioning the ridiculously well-timed quest. Because all the shackles were off.

It had finally come time to ascend.