Shadows shifted, moving like liquid among the freezing waters as they revealed the figures around them to be not monsters at all, but statues. Vess swallowed, eyes flicking between the hideous, unmoving shapes. They were built of ice-coated stone, utterly terrifying but crafted with a deft hand. They were scattered around them, set between the frozen roots that interruptedt he otherwise flat plain there at the bottom of the Breach. Uniformity was their antithesis, but most were larger than the five Lindwurms that still surrounded their diminished party.

They are statues of…Urges? However, there was no sign of whoever—or whatever—had spoken.

> Vess said after working some strength into her voice. >

Come. Closer.

The voice rumbled again, and still Vess couldn’t track its source. It emanated from all directions, omnipresent and so powerful it disturbed the sands. After Vess had shifted her weight, it was clear how much power it would take to simply move her body, let alone shift sands with simple words.

> Lady Isla warned. Her hair hung down around her face, pressed out of its careful coif by the relentless pressure atop them all. Vess nodded.

APPROACH.

A wave of sand rose behind them, catching their entire group in its flow. Vess shouted in alarm, reaching down to grasp the still-immobile Felix, but all of them were carried forward through the forest of hideous statues, hurtled through the icy waters to a large, broken colonnade. The wave stopped there, and Vess nearly fell to her knees while Felix, Beef, and the dual Bodies of Hallow were deposited without respect or care.

A snarl from behind them alerted Vess to the arrival of their jailors. The Lindwurms pointed clawed hands toward the colonnade. “Enter. Beg for your lives, mortals.”

Beyond the tilted columns, it was as wide as any Temple construction in Haestus, built on a scale that Vess could not understand, as if giants had worshiped before the raised dias she saw beyond the tilted columns. There was another statue there, just as big as the Lindwurms but far more angular, showing little sign it had been carved at all. As the others, this was covered in the purple-blue ooze. The entire structure before them was all but dripping in layers of it, and free-floating globules of the stuff sat unmoving in the heavy, dark water.

Vess traded glances with Lady Isla and Lavix, the latter of whom was trying to unsuccessfully lift Felix’s immobile form. >

Lavix assented with a deep bow, which was copied immediately by all the rest. >

A thick, scornful laugh ripped from the Lindwurms’ throats, their long snouts crinkled with amusement. Vess paid them no mind and instead offered her arm to the Chanter. >

> she said, looping her arm in Vess’ own. >

The ooze coiled around their feet with each and every step—sticking to their footwear like foul mud—and it only grew thicker. They were a scant three strides into the ruined structure before their feet were completely engulfed by the ooze. Vess hesitated, but the foul thing did nothing but attempt to root her in place. A few swings of her partisan cleared them up, scattering the foul thing in all directions. That taught her two things: the ooze was harmed by her weapon, and simply swinging her spear was incredibly difficult at such depths. It felt ponderous and weighty, almost too heavy to control, but Vess’ Strength was up to the task. Barely.

She cleared the way, one heavy blow at a time, until they stood before the dais. Vess craned her neck, looking to the shadows that swirled constantly around the columns and half-broken walls. Distances were obscured, thrown into chaos by darkness, rippling currents, and the undulations of the seemingly sentient ooze.

> Vess demanded, fighting to keep the quaver out of her Spirit. >

You do not give demands, mortal.

> Isla whispered, and stumbled backward out of Vess’ grip. Vess whirled, following the Chanter’s gaze, only to find the monstrous statue on the dias blink at her.

Siva’s holy Grace. Vess hefted her spear, shoulders burning, as she realized she was staring at an enormous head. Those are eyes, nostrils, and horns.

The head, wedge-shaped and angular, lifted up in the water on a long, plated neck covered in ooze and shadow. A mane of writhing tendrils—purple-blue and glistening—hung from its head and neck, just behind two enormous sets of horns that branched like a stag’s.

Vess craned her neck up and up, following the monster as it kept rising to its full height. If she had to compare it, the closest thing in her memory was the Ravager King—and just like the Ravager King, this creature was a vile hybrid of scales and malformed flesh. More ooze dripped from it, floating in spherical globules and rigid tendrils that merged with the utter dark.

That body stretched back into the sand and water, serpentine and festooned with tendrils that came to life as its head lifted from the dais. The very ground shifted, ice cracking with stentorian reports as some of what Vess had mistaken for frozen roots were actually the scale-covered length of an impossibly long body. It's mouth opened, strings of ooze stretching between gaping jaws as a tongue the color of midnight wriggled like a worm.

It laughed.

Such delicious fear.

Lady Isla swallowed, her breath coming faster. >

> Vess spat.

Analyze Failed.

ERROR!

Ouranic Override In Place.

Ouranic…? Vess couldn’t control her breathing. Her gut twisted, the boiling brew bubbling until it overflowed into her veins, until her arms quaked with repressed fear and hate and rage. She didn’t need Analyze to recognize the monstrosity before her. It was the Fathom.

It was a Dragon.

Yes. I can feel you recognize it. I am a Dragon, one of the last on this pitiful Continent. That huge mouth snapped closed, tossing gobbets of ooze in all directions. They did not fall but remained suspended around the Fathom’s face, like raindrops frozen in time. And you…you have a familiar scent upon your Spirits. Dry and dusty, it tastes of failure and death. What is it? What is it?

Vess raised her eyebrows. >

Ah. The word was thunder on its lips, and the ooze at their feel trembled with a strange…glee. Vess could feel it, plain as day, a joyous satisfaction that quivered through the foul carpet around them. You have seen the Withered One. I can sense his touch on you.

> Vess said, flexing her fingers along the haft of her spear. >

I know much, mortal. I was his downfall, his curse. I! Not those wretches among the waves, those armored wretches!

>

Vile children that refused my worship. They were shown glories never known to them, power and Skills beyond any they could hope to learn, and they cast it aside. The Fathom snarled, baring its massive fangs that curled across its jaw like the miniature tusks of some great boar. You smell of them. Of the Withered One. You… The Fathom stopped sneering, its huge, alien face twisting toward something else. Oh, this is delightful.

Chuckling, the Fathom slithered its long neck down, until it regarded Vess and Lady Isale through large, sea-black eyes. Several pairs opened and closed in the gooey mess of its face, vanishing and manifesting over and over. You carry his Boon but have discarded it? Hah! Not only discarded, but disdained!

Vess wanted to reply to that, but a wave of incredible pressure followed the Fathom’s laugh, knocking the both of them back several steps. Lady Isla barely seemed to notice, muttering as she was beneath her breath. It was all Vess could do to keep the Fathom in view—something about it distorted her vision.

What a worthless death. Ill fitting a Primordial. He should have accepted the inevitable and joined with me. The Fathom shook its head, the oozing mane swirling behind its horns. Now it is rendered back into the dust from whence he came.

Vess had heard the story enough times to answer that truthfully. >

HAH! A pitiful end, to be killed by mere mortals! How did you do it? The Fathom’s eyes popped open, all of them at once, boring down on Vess. You are…weak. Rejected Boon or not, you could not have faced the Primordial as you are. You—

It stopped, flaring its nostrils. Water pulled into them so hard that Vess could see the momentary riptide. Innumerable orbs appeared and vanished from its ever-changing face, and its tongue lashed viciously.

You…you are not the one that caught my eye. The one that burned in the night. The Fathom’s huge head snaked to the side, tilting as it stared beyond the ruined structure. Vess didn’t have to ask where it was looking…except it shook its heads, as if suddenly confused. No. Where is he? I—you! Where is he? Where is the beast that ate my children?

Is it confused? Vess was unsure, but she wouldn’t let the moment go to waste. She had to buy time. <>