A willow tree stands just outside a hidden grotto, its swaying branches veiling the entrance. The cave's mouth is shaped like the fangs of a beast. The sun shines high above, casting a myriad of shadows under the willow tree. An ironclad warrior brushes the branches aside, lifting the first part of the veil hiding this place. The symphony of nature is silent in this area, save for the whispers of the wind. The knight's form is obscured by the plate mail he wears, leaving every ounce of him to one's imagination, with the exception of his bulky torso and shoulder blades.
Trailing behind the ironclad man are two individuals: a woman with short, curly red hair and freckles spotted around her nose and cheeks, her cheeks a touch red from the biting breeze. She wears a leather tunic covering a white undershirt and long brown pants, tucked into her boots. Over her shoulder is an unstrung bow, resting in a quiver with numerous colored arrow fletchings.
As for the man behind her, he wears a pair of half-moon spectacles with some kind of etching along the glass. The frame itself is thin and metallic, while the temple tips behind each of his ears are housed in thick cotton. His form is adorned with rather plain black and gold embroidered robes, the exception being a patch in the middle of his back, the size of the knight's forearm. It is in the shape of a wand with two gold lines running down next to each other, indicating 'two.' In his hand he holds a book, still reading the pages as he lifts the gentle weight of the veil of willow branches.
"Gorthan." Hearing his name the knight turned his head toward the two behind him, his eyes passed over the woman landing on the bespectacled male.
"What is it, Mort?" He asked, Mort shook his head gently while frowning. As if to shake away some thoughts, or feelings. He pointed just past Gorthan's shoulder toward the hidden grotto, never closing his book.
"It is coming from here." Mort's expression looked pained.
Through the etchings on his glasses, he could see the energy that human eyes were simply incapable of seeing; and what he saw coming from that cave mouth was terrifying. A red mist seemed to ooze in all directions from the cave, and every few seconds, a large plume forced its way out of the cave mouth as if it were breathing, each breath causing a few of the willow branches to sway. But the others could not see this; it just looked like the wind to his companions.
The woman while standing on her tiptoes tried to peer over his shoulder to see through his lenses. She leaned forward and stared intently through the lenses, squinting as hard as she could, yet she saw nothing. She huffed, and her breath touched the back of his neck. Instantly, goosebumps rose on the back of his neck. Instinctively, Mort stepped away from her, putting his free hand on the back of his neck. He quickly turned around, his startled expression softening.
"You scared me," he said as he breathed a sigh of relief. She grinned at him, putting her hands up like claws, and made a growling sound to tease him. He rolled his eyes and turned away, but still, his ears were burning red. His thoughts wandered away from the possibility of impending death. She stomped around him, making adorable monster noises, which only made his cheeks flush a bit red.
Gorthan watched the whole ordeal and rolled his eyes. He slapped his gauntlet against his shield. "Lyn, focus, do your job." She immediately stood straight, planting her fist over her heart.
"AYE! AYE, CAPTAIN!" After doing so, she sprinted to the willow tree and climbed it like a house cat might. Gorthan tried his best not to laugh at her antics. He shook his head, walking toward the cave mouth. Mort followed behind him, raising a few fingers as he began his own task.
He focused on the energy around him, using his fingers to shape it to his will. This energy was often referred to as essence, and Mort was a practitioner of the Essical Arts, which is how he learned to create spell forms out of essence.
Mort's formal title is Second Circle Essical Practitioner; however it was commonly shortened to Tier-Two Mage.
From his surroundings, he called upon the essence of the plants in the area. Through his lenses, he could see green essence begin to pull from the nearby plants, swirling around the tips of his fingers. He snapped his book closed and began using both hands, flourishing them around himself as if he were performing a sort of dance. As he started the dance, the essence began to form what was referred to as a 'spell form.'
The ground under his feet began to bulge and move. As the essence seemed to be pouring under his feet, searching delving deep into the soil. He turned in a circle and moved his hands toward the cave mouth, spreading his fingers. Like a small tidal wave, green rushed past his limbs to fulfill his will. Just under the tips of his toes, the earth erupted as roots began ripping up from the ground and launching at incredible speed where he was guiding them.
The roots began to shape into a thick doorway that covered the entrance to the cave, which seemed to only grow thicker with each injection of essence. Mort's brow furrowed as sweat dripped from his forehead. His breathing came in heavy pants, and his knees began to wobble. Gorthan's arms reached just under his shoulders to hold him on his feet until finally the doorway solidified, obscuring the entry and locking the red essence inside. Mort's eyes were closed; he had passed out.
"Overdoing it again," Gorthan said with a smile under his helm. He carried the hard worker under the willow, only to hear Lyn's voice yelling from above.
"Yep! No cute animals anywhere!" She dropped from the top of the willow like a rock, landing on Gorthan's shoulders–except more like a feather. She jumped from his shoulder, lifting both her arms as she did so, being as overly dramatic as she could. She patted her knees and pulled a few twigs out of her hair, missing at least three leaves and two sticks.
"He's still asleep, right?" she whispered, looking at Mort with a big smile on her face. She tiptoed toward him and leaned over, taking in his resting expression. He really did look tired and worn out. Suddenly, he shot up from the ground, sucking in a huge breath as if he had not been breathing for a few minutes. The top of his head smacked into her cheek, and she stumbled backward, falling into Gorthan. Mort groaned as he held his head.
"Did my head smack into a rock while I was out?" he asked aloud. Meanwhile, Lyn lifted herself up, a red mark visible on her cheek, and a bit of blood dribbled from her mouth. She shook her hands at her sides while stomping her feet. She looked like someone who had eaten something too hot or cold; "I bith my thunge!" she said, her eyes beginning to water, and cheek started to swell.
Mort had what looked like an egg atop his head, but the moment he saw she was in pain, he reached into his satchel, pulling out a bright red vial. He popped the wax seal, and a sweet strawberry scent filled his nose. He dabbed his finger in the liquid and applied it on her cheek.
Almost instantly, the swelling stopped and began to shrink. He then grabbed her chin, pressing his fingers on the side of her jaw. She opened her mouth in response, then he poured half the contents. She swished the liquid around in her mouth, then pushed Mort down by his shoulders and spit a mixture of blood and the red liquid onto the lump on his head. She looked triumphant, while Mort had the red liquid dripping down his hair and face onto his robes.
"All better, see!" she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He could not help but smile. It was impossible for him to be mad at her. She then began poking his head, pressing here and there, saying aloud, "Does this hurt? What about this?" as she poked and prodded him. Gorthan looked at the two of them and just laughed but continued to walk toward the doorway Mort had created.
"Did we break him, Mort?" she said with the biggest grin before kissing the top of his head and running away to check out the doorway as well. Mort held the top of his head for a moment before snapping out of it.
"Great craftsmanship and attention to detail as well," Gorthan commented. At the base of the doorway, there were tiny trees holding each other's roots like arms. Mort touched the knob, and goosebumps rippled across his arm, up the back of his neck. The pit of his stomach churned; he felt like he was going to be sick. Lyn and Gorthan were looking at him, perplexed. He had pulled his hand away from the door, and took a few steps back.
"I have a horrible feeling about this," he said aloud, flipping his book open and scribbling notes into it with a charcoal pencil.
Lyn's smile faded away, as if the world was confirming his thoughts, Lyn cried out "Wolves!" spinning on her heels to string her bow. Just beyond the veil of the willow's shadows, shapes could be seen moving-and lots of them. The hair on the back of Mort's neck stood on end. The essence in the air was oozing a red and silver color from the incoming silhouettes. Growls began to echo as twenty maws of sharp, jagged teeth closed in on the group.
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"Direwolves!" Gorthan opened the door, pushing both Mort and Lyn through, forcing them and himself inside. He slammed the door shut. They could still hear the growls and snarls on the other side. The horrible feeling hit Mort again; he felt like he was going to be sick. It was like someone had uppercut his stomach after a large meal.
"The essence here is overwhelming me," he said, holding his stomach. He knew full well they could not leave yet. While Lyn felt chills as if something or someone was watching them. Mort slid down against the doorway. His black hair stuck to the sweat beading on his forehead; he looked sickly.
In the darkness beyond their vision, they could hear something move along the floor. Gorthan stood in front of the two of them, unsheathing his sword and taking a fighting stance. The sound grew louder; it almost reminded him of a scales dragging against the stone floor.
Mort created a small mote of light, by combining a few essences sending it just in front of Gorthan. It was like a miniature sun. The white light bounced off something, creating an array of rainbows on the ceiling above. On the floor in front of them was a small creature the size of Gorthan's hand. It was an incredibly beautiful sight.
The change in light shone off the creature's body; it appeared to be made of a moving liquid, silver in hue, almost like mercury. It had a snub nose lifted into the air in their direction. Its head was tilted to the side, as if considering something. Around its nose were long whiskers the size of its body, each whisker moving independently.
"It is so cute... Mort," Lyn said aloud.
Gorthan lifted his hand, blocking Lyn from pushing forward, knowing she would try to cuddle the beast. But Mort's condition made him afraid–was this creature causing so much trouble for the villagers? Gorthan shifted his posture only slightly, and the creature began to purr, almost like a cat.
"A Silver Cat! Can we name it that, Mort? Please!" she begged, pressing herself into his shoulder, too excited to realize what she was doing. She was just happy they were the first to find such a creature, and the reward for information on unknown beasts could set them up for life.
It was as she began talking loudly that it started. Its body looked like it was vibrating. The mercury in its form moved in waves to its tail end, and it launched into the air. Gorthan swung his sword, predicting its flight path, bisecting it down the middle with an overhead swing. A spray of silver covered his newly minted armor, giving it a bit of a shimmer in some spots.
Gorthan could not relax; his eyes had adjusted to the lower light levels, and just beyond the edge of the light, he could make out hundreds, if not thousands, of Silver Cats, each of which lifted their snouts into the air, twitching their whiskers.
"Mort, if you don't cast a spell, we are all dead," he whispered, not moving an inch.
It was but a moment. Fire formed on the tips of Mort's fingers. But, he quickly closed his hand, extinguishing the spell form. Fire was an absolute no in this kind of situation; it could cause them to suffocate. Afterall there was minimal air flow. Should he start blasting a torrent of flame, they all would be roasted. There was no blue essence nearby, so ice was not an option, this left him with only one choice.
"Don't tell anyone I did this." He lifted his hand, and without uttering another word, he began gathering all of the red essence in the air into his spell form. It swirled in front of his finger tips, but something was missing. Until a red liquid began to force its way out of Mort's pores, It took just a fraction of a second. But hundreds of small globules floated in the air just beyond Gorthan. It was an incredible sight, but also terrifying at what it was doing to Mort’s own body.
He then pushed his hand forward, thin red needle-like shards began forming out of the globules, floating in the air just beyond Gorthan. As the creatures leapt toward them, Mort released his spell, and each shard began spearing the creatures, he stopped them before they could get close enough. What he was doing took an incredible amount of focus for him to perform this spell.
With each passing second, Mort grew paler, his body started to look dehydrated, and finally, he dropped his hand. His breathing was faint. He looked like someone had stolen most of the moisture from his body. Mort was lucky; he had used one of the forbidden Essical Essences-Red Essence. It was forbidden due to its consequences. Using it required two things: the presence of red essence and the use of your own life essence to fuel it, blood.
Lyn had tears in her eyes as she searched his satchel for any potion or elixir. Thankfully, he had saved half the elixir from earlier by resealing the wax. She broke the wax, hearing a faint pop as the smell of strawberries filled her nose. She quickly pinched Mort's nose, causing him to stop breathing through it. She held his head back and dumped its contents into his mouth. The pale color slowly began to revert, but not by much. He had lost a lot of blood.
While this was happening, Gorthan moved forward, swinging his sword wildly. It was moments like this that he wished he used dual long swords. Instead, he wielded a single bastard longsword with both hands. He bisected most of the creatures launching at them still. But it had not stopped.
On the cave ceiling, a small Silver Cat could be seen, carried in the tiny claws of a bat. It hooked its limbs into the ceiling above Gorthan and dropped the Silver Cat on top of him. If one could see it in the dark, they might think that bat was smiling. Gorthan felt it digging into his neck.
"Ahh!" he screamed, dropping his sword and flinging his helmet off.
"Get it off!" It tore into the flesh of his neck, a spray of red splashing down the side of his armor. He felt it moving under his skin toward the back of his neck. Lyn had barely set Mort's head down before she turned to see the horror show in front of her.
A lump the size of three of her fingers appeared on the back of his neck as he crashed to his knees. His mouth was open, and he was making strange sounds. The lump began to flatten and spread itself up and down his neck, digging in deeper, until the lump was no longer visible.
"Gaaaahhh eee oooof eee!" The urgency in his tone was gone. The lump on the back of his neck seemed to be gone now as well. Lyn's knife was pressed to the back of his neck as her mind raced. Should she try digging it out?
"N--o," the sound of his words was choppy, as if someone were learning how to enunciate for the first time. Then a gurgling sound came out of Gorthan's mouth.
"No, ACH, no," he said again.
"Failure," he said aloud. His body slumped over, and as he fell, his hands reached out, clawing the ground as he began dragging himself toward the Silver Cats.
"Failure," he choked out the word, crawling deeper into the cave using just his hands. His fingers were bloody, his nails broken. Lyn did not move from the spot she was standing in. Tears streamed down her face, and an uncontrollable wail escaped her lips. Gorthan was consumed by the need to crawl deeper into the cave, and Lyn had no idea how to save him.
The Silver Cats that had been crawling past Gorthan to get to Mort and Lyn had stopped moving. Their bodies curled up, and a small “Krii” escaped each of the creatures now unmoving bodies. Every Silver Cat looked dead.
Gorthan continued on deeper into the cave. While Lyn was too shocked to make a move herself. He was a Third Circle knight, bested by a ‘worm’ the size of a couple of her fingers. Mort slowly opened his eyes, but he was unable to move. His vision was blurry, his mouth was dry, and each time he blinked, it felt like his eyelids were scratching his eyes.
"Lyn... my bag... homeward stone... I..." He blinked his eyes, and the pain was immense.
"Love you," he said, panting.
"Please, live." As if to supplement his statement, or perhaps to show the creatures' displeasure, just beyond the door he was pressed against, the Direwolves snarled.
Three years and many close calls later, not once did he admit his feelings for her. Instead, he had chosen now, while he was barely alive, on the verge of death, and he said it with a smile on his face. If she did what he asked, there was no way he would live. Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, he uttered a spellform command phrase. He had created it long, long ago-a spellform just in case for a situation like this.
His eyes were closed as a blue light flared up around Lyn. He remembered all the times they had adventures together. They flashed through his mind like a picture book. It was only the good things he remembered at that moment.
"I love you, Lyn." That was the command phrase he had set in the spellform buried inside the homeward stone. He had inscribed it to do one simple task: teleport to Lyn, and burn the rest of its energy to take her home.
It was so long ago. Thinking back, she was nearly killed by a group of goblins before he and Gorthan had managed to rescue her. She was just a First Circle archer back then. Mort was panting the pain had faded a while ago, stopped hearing as well, and seeing too. It felt like he was alone with the tidal wave of memories until finally, he was gone.
Meanwhile deep inside the cave, Gorthan continued to crawl along the ground until he finally reached his destination. A pool of liquid silver sat stagnant, with silver veins spider webbing around the cave walls, or at least something one might mistake for veins.
Fast as lightning, a silver tendril lifted Gorthan. Upon doing so, countless others touched his body, probing his form, peeling away each layer of plate armor and clothing. A tendril connected to the back of his neck, and his mouth opened.
"Complex body," it spoke through Gorthan's mouth, twisting him around. "Digestion required," it said aloud. All at once, he was dragged into the silver pool and submerged. Gorthan was gone.
Not long after, a Silver Cat climbed from the pool. This one was small but long. It had a complex but tiny form, and a red and silver line moved down its spine, glowing faintly. A bat flew down, grabbing hold of it and flying through the cave, reaching the entry just as a flash of blue light occurred. It dropped the Silver Cat on the human, and it waited patiently. A new feeling bubbled up deep inside its thoughts: excitement.
It started by burrowing through the layer of his skin. Mort could not stop it, he was already unconscious. It found the nape of his neck, and quickly its silver body expanded in all directions, spider webbing through his insides tracing and wrapping around every nerve, until it spiderwebbed up his brain stem, and covered the rest deep inside.
Mort's mouth opened and a smile exposed his teeth. "Ahhh" he said aloud, looking down at his fingers. He was calm, the emotions were still overwhelming him as the memories were still coming to the surface but were considered useless, so they were discarded for the moment. He began to laugh, still flexing his fingers, this body felt good. He lifted his hand, and pulled the red essence from the air into his very body. There was no flourish, no complex movements. Mort never actually needed to do those things. The color of his cheeks returned, and he no longer looked sickly.
"Complex species," it said aloud. Mort peered through the eyes of the wolves outside. "She escaped us?" It asked aloud, an unfortunate outcome. The wolves began sniffing the ground and whined. "Need time, assimilate with hi-, Ah homeward stone." His eye began to twitch, and both his eyes pointed in unnatural directions before they seemed to re-align. "We must acquire more species samples." By the second the words it was using were being extracted from the complex humans mind. It was getting smarter by the second.
"Mort, I am Mort, First Cir-" It took a moment as it closed its eyes, and It found itself doing this with every one of its bodies. The wolves, the bats, the squirrels, the rats. Every creature it had assimilated with did not require this level of focus.
"Hello, I am Mort, Second Circle Essical Practitioner." He smiled, shaking his hand up and down in the air. The Hive was practicing a handshake. "Muscle movements of humans are complex. Remember to smile. A E I O U." It recited basic information that humans required for communication many times.
So this is a door, Mort thought as it reached out for the knob, twisted it, and opened the doorway. Light spilled into the cave, and the sun's heat touched his limbs. Mort leaned his head back enjoying the new feeling. The wolf bodies began clawing at the doorway. Mort furrowed his brow, feeling frustration. Their claws did not damage the doorway. It looked out into the open air where the willow trees swayed. The word Beauty seemed to be fitting, for the sights its human eyes took in were exactly that.