The first to awaken was the tidewalker sprite.

Much like my other sprite evolution, it didn't wake up so much as coalesce, dripping back together from the cloud-dispersal it had been. My armoured jawfish was still watching over it, swimming in as tight of circles as he could manage with fangs bared and scarlet eyes furious, waiting for it to finish. And finish it had.

My stormcaller sprite took the form of a wolf, trading how many legs she had and how many teeth and whatever she wanted at the moment. The tidewalker sprite was… different.

It was entirely alien, no creature I knew—it was formed of globs of water, woven together like a solid thing but flowing like water, and in lacking limbs or eyes or mouth it appeared to be made entirely of fins. Some dorsal, littered with spines, some bristling out the sides, a few circling below—a twisting, writhing ball of water separate from the lake it was in.

Hells. It was a wonder elementals were even on Aiqith; they matched nothing else out there. At least I could understand the thought process behind my lovely stormcaller sprite; this was a monstrosity.

But a monstrosity with the power of currents on its side; already it began to swim, however odd that looked, and the water bended to its command. Propulsion, slow but increasing, as it skipped and pranced around the Underlake.

The armoured jawfish followed it, eyes wide. His salvation; his promise to the lower floors. To the Hungering Reefs.

Godsdamnit, I'd just closed all those auxiliary tunnels.

But as much as I could make Akkyst walk through the Jungle Labyrinth, I could not for my armoured jawfish. A small mercy was the weight of his armour; I could dig a tunnel straight down and let him fall through it, leveling out once he was on the level of the Hungering Reefs; which was what I did. Already I could feel Mayalle looking in, that star-burn awareness of change on her mana-filled floor, and I'd rather nip that in the bud before she had time to grow properly incensed I was removing the armoured jawfish from her floor. It was my plan to introduce new monsters anyway, once Abarossa delivered her promised schemas. A win-win.

My interaction with Rhoborh had both cowed me and made me bold. I was more willing to strain our contracts—to push instead of only bow over. Neither of us wanted to break our deals, but I had more freedom than I'd previously limited myself to.

And apparently, despite being newly born, the tidewalker sprite understood its position. As I began to carve a tunnel downward, guiding the armoured jawfish towards the entrance, it immediately swam to match him, circling around in a mimicry of Mayalle's whirlpool. Lovely. Certainly easier than me trying to entrap it into a lifelong position of servitude. Maybe. Did elementals have lifespans? Were they immortal, or as close to immortal as things could become on Aiqith?

Thinking about that too hard would likely shatter me down to crystalline shards or some variant of a gibbering mess. I dug intangible claws into limestone instead.

It would take him some time to sink three floors down. I dispatched a few points of awareness and threw the bulk of my consciousness elsewhere, because more silver motes of light were fading away and new creations were being remade. Gods, what a period of genuine excitement, instead of terror. I could savour it.

Deep in the Jungle Labyrinth awoke the bladesong mantises, clustered and tucked in the Jungle Labyrinth. My points of awareness swarmed overhead much like a mirror as consciousness entered multi-faceted eyes, a carapace of emerald-blue shifting through reawakening. There were a dozen of them, all various ages and sizes—what progress they'd made for themselves didn't match much against killing a Silver, and they'd all evolved equally. The minor upside of dealing with bugs, I could admit. It was a never-ending adventure of change when you started so weak.

And now they were weak no longer—the first rose to its claws, its angular head bristling some six feet off the ground; still thin and spindly, never one to survive a hit, but with enormous, sickle-claws extending forward. No armour, no spines, not even a continuous carapace. They were bladesong—stolen from Nolla's wave-dancer attunement, if I had to guess—and they weren't supposed to get hit. If they did, curtains closed, show's over—but that wouldn't happen. They'd dance and spin and twist around every blow while dealing legions of their own.

The iridescent mantises could have had their space, and I was still hoping for them, but I needed a stable population first. If I'd only made some six bladesong mantises, I already knew Veresai would have massacred them long before they could find their footing.

I'd wanted a tyrant, and I'd certainly gotten one, but that didn't mean she wasn't vaguely annoying. And instead of Kriya softening her harsher tendencies, she'd settled for burning the healer out. Great.

That was one of those problems that wasn't actively hurting me now, but the runes were already written on the wall. It was coming.

Across the tunnels, protected by swirling points of mana, the boundless jaguar awoke. I could have swooned.

She was elegance condensed down to an iridescent body—still rosettes over her fur, still a feather-tipped tail in shining emerald-sapphire, but now she had tripled in length with another pair of legs to match, muscles taut under gorgeous colouration. She rose from her curled rest with an enviable ease, only a moment's confusion on where to place her newly-formed fifth and sixth paws, but her tail flicked for balance and her ears perked and then she was crouched in the tunnel that now barely seemed to fit her. Amber-gold eyes, ivory fangs, claws like a promise of death—a growl flitted through her chest, rumble deep as the enclaves.

I poured encouragement into her mind. She flicked an ear back, rising to her full height. A grasping arm of thornwhip algae lashed for her side and she hardly seemed to think about springing away, she just did—a lithe bounce that settled into a focused prowl, her still-waking thoughts consumed with hunger. She wanted prey.

What about her was ancient? I knew several of my creatures were so, namely the vampiric mangroves and armoured jawfish—but I didn't get that sense of Old from her. Power, yes, and intelligence beyond her capabilities; but not that ancient world with no further inhabitants. Why had she had a resurrector evolution? What was different about her?

I loved her very much, perhaps the one creature beyond a dragon I could admire the build of, but that mystery set a coiling distrust in my core. I knew she had come here because of Akkyst, freed from her previous hell in the War Horde, but that didn't explain her evolution. Why she seemed to operate on a separate system than I knew.

But her thoughts knew nothing of it, and ripping her down to a corpse and schema wouldn't give me anything but removing one of my stronger beasts. Not worth it.

I pushed a thought of the new path down to the Skylands and moved on.

Separate from her and the mantises, a third evolution stirred and shifted—but didn't wake. My arachne, webweaver and Gnat combined, wasn't finished yet. Curious. I wondered what that meant.

But in the meantime, there were creatures waking up from their silver-mote cocoons, and I sped off to greet them. Down a floor, through the newly-remade Jungle Labyrinth without any damn auxiliary tunnels, thank you, and spilling into the Skylands—where Khasvar was a distant memory and my other tribe of sapients lived.

And where a phantom fox awoke.

She was sheltered in a corner of the Skylands, having crept away as her evolution dissolved her thoughts, and now she raised her head in a den blanketed by mist. Her silver fur was muted, an off-grey instead of the luminosity of before, but I only saw it for a minute—because the next, she dissolved.

Hyperbole. But it certainly looked like that.

The moment she was awake enough to function, the mist began bleeding off her, thick like clouds swollen with rain; kicked up like the cloudskipper wisps, but both lesser and more. She wasn't controlling it but becoming it.

In less than a heartbeat, she disappeared entirely. Just a pale reflection of two white-grey eyes in the mist.

I'd gotten half a glance at her, but it was clear how her build had changed; larger, more bulk beneath her changing fur, and claws for true fighting rather than digging. Her eyes, the only part even partially visible in the swirling cloud of grey, exited the den as she moved forward; if I wasn't tracking her, I'd never know she was there. Fascinating. Not the spectral serpent, who physically disappeared beyond the stripe of black across his back, but functionally invisible. Combined with the endless storm here, I found myself very curious how she'd hunt.

Although her prey wouldn't make it easy. Because down on the ground, tucked in burrows and dens carved by their own hand, my goblin mages lost their evolution-addled glow.

A few points of awareness a floor up prodded at Akkyst's mind, padding through the Jungle Labyrinth as he was. With the parrot on his broad shoulders. I had no idea why she wanted to go with him. Hurry, I urged. Bylk is soon to awake.

For an enormous, lumbering bear, he could sure pick up the pace when he wanted.

The first stretched awake, silver bleeding off her form. Annoying, they really hadn't changed much—taller, yes, but still spindly, slender things. Not an ounce of muscle alongside their bones. Still green-blue skin interlaced with black stripes, still ears extending off their heads like parasails, still knobbly hands and jagged fingernails and snaggleteeth and–

And tails. Long, sweeping things with tufts on the tips, the same grey as their hair.

Did tails… help mages? Was it necessary for their spells? Why in all hells would they grow tails?

She dragged herself up, tail wriggling over the ground like an eel dragged to land. Already, mana crackled around her fingers, Khasvar's boon lighting it up with muted flashes. It reflected in her black eyes like fire. I didn't have to dip into her mind to sense her excitement.

With the crash of an avalanche, Akkyst burst into the Skylands, nearly shaking the parrot off his back—he immediately thundered down one of the narrow bridges woven for his bulk, stumbling once or twice in his haste. A cluster of baterwauls fled his path with echoing shrieks. Subtle.

The other Magelords woke, helped up by their peers; no one seemed to particularly know what to do with their tails, which did soothe some fear that I was supposed to know that, but already they chittered and laughed as mana jumped to their call, already looking around their carved dens with ambitious eyes.

Akkyst padded between them, supplying his enormous sides as support for those struggling to stand—he rumbled encouragement and praise, runes dripping in his wake like moonlight. A dozen new goblin mages, ready to guide the others in their footsteps. All led by their leader, who pulled himself off the ground with a groan and twinge of pain—turns out evolution didn't feel nice when you had numerous earrings, though none of them seemed disturbed.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Bylk shook his head, examining the points of his claws, frowning as a new muscle presented itself in the form of a slithering limb between his feet. Akkyst perked up, remaining ear flicking forward, padding over. "Bylk!" He called.

Bylk, however, wasn't looking at Akkyst. Or himself. Or any of his evolved brethren.

Instead, his eyes were fixed on the parrot.

She was neatly perched on Akkyst's shoulder, which were massive enough the bear hardly seemed to notice her presence; she entertained herself by preening her gold-tipped feathers, occasionally squawking with some disapproval whenever Akkyst moved too fast, but otherwise easy to miss. For a second, I thought it might have been confusion about birds, considering Bylk was a highland goblin who had lived his entire life under a mountain, but no. He traveled with the bladehawk and lived with greater pigeons. She shouldn't have been a shock.

But he was just staring at her.

"Do I… know you?" Bylk asked.

What.

Akkyst seemed to mirror my confusion, thoughts brimming with concern that the evolution had stripped Bylk's memories—but the goblin kept his gaze locked onto the parrot, who tilted her head to fix him with a beady black eye. "Know you?" She squawked, wings bristling. "You?"

Bylk hesitated, gnarled fossil that he was. A profound unease settled over his pride at evolving. "Awfully familiar, you," he settled on, lips twisted in a grimace. "Got any secrets tucked away in those pretty wings'a yours?"

For her part, the parrot seemed very offended by the question, puffing up. She deliberately turned away to pick at some of her primaries, not mimicking him again. Her tail swished.

Runes floated off Akkyst's fur like a tsunami, crowding the air and pooling on the ground when ignored. The starwrought bear rumbled, eye narrowed in concentration. "Escaped from the War Horde?" He asked, head tilted.

Perhaps, but I doubted it. I dipped into the stream of our connection. Found in the jungle, I murmured. Outside the mountain.

Bylk frowned, scratching the underside of his scruffy chin. "M'ybe," he said, dubious. "But I've a hell of'a mind, Akkyst. I don't much forget things."

Sure. Right. I believed that.

My starwrought bear shifted, trying to crane his neck over to look on his back; the parrot squawked, disgruntled, but acquiesced to his study. She seemed, at most, mildly displeased.

That unknown ember of mana in her chest flickered.

Hells, did all my creatures have secrets I wasn't privy to? Did I need to lay down a law on my halls so I could stop being caught off guard?

But the parrot either couldn't or wasn't talking, Akkyst's blessing was spitting runes undecipherable, and Bylk was still woozy off evolution—so, seemingly as one, they turned away from the problem at hand. "Right," Bylk said, and when he spoke, I saw a faint mana crackling over his teeth—first tails, now this? Just what was in their evolution? "Time'ta get organized first. Haggle details later."

Akkyst rumbled a nod, though his eye was fixed on one rune, floating off the parrot's wing, a circle with a myriad of lines like cracks spreading through the center. I floated overhead most of their rune studies and knew they hadn't figured out what this one meant yet, but they'd seen it before.

Notably, they'd seen it off the old stone Bylk had brought from the ruins of their old home.

That was a fact that inspired no concern in me whatsoever. If Nicau had damned my existence by bringing the parrot here, I was going to– well, it wasn't like I could blame him for bringing me creatures when I had specifically asked for that, but I would make a point of expressing my disapproval before my second death.

Bylk grinned—a uniquely horrible expression with his snaggleteeth and generally unpleasant face—and plodded forward, tail flicking unconsciously to brush at the stone. "Later," he said, a scholar's promise, considering I knew both of them would likely forgo sleep and all healthy habits in their attempt to capture this discovery. "Off'ta the others first."

Akkyst shifted his weight, offering a mighty shoulder for Bylk to use, and padded out to greet the other Magelords. I had certainly made the correct choice in giving him a Name—other than Chieftess, there were few such natural leaders in my halls. He had the Skylands operating by his word out of respect instead of fear. Veresai could learn a thing or two.

She likely wouldn't, but that was a problem for a later day.

For now, I dove down, digging through the stormclouds until I popped into the floor below, the wash of rippling blue and white-quartz sand. Now, the damnable thing was that while my mana had overbloated to the point it took a day for those on the upper floors to evolve, the lower weren't as lucky—or, rather, they were normal, while the others were aggressively quick. Fitting, that all of them were first evolutions, too. But it meant I wouldn't be seeing my new sharks or scorch hounds yet.

Though the Hungering Reefs would be receiving new inhabitants, as the armoured jawfish finally plummeted far enough to connect to the first room.

I immediately threw myself behind and destroyed the tunnel he'd traveled down. I didn't care if there were no invaders in my halls, having retreated the moment they saw the descent to the Underlake—not a chance of anyone skipping through my dungeon again. The water rushed and gurgled as I forced it back into its previous occupancy, bleeding limestone until it was indistinguishable from the surrounding walls.

For his part, the armoured jawfish sagged, no Mayalle's whirlpool to hold him up—but with me beaming instructions into the tidewalker sprite, it immediately began to swim around him, circling underneath with its wide dorsal fins extended. His tail lashed and pushed him forward instead of down, sluggish at first but picking up; some kinks to work out, but already in tandem. His scarlet eyes burned.

Likely best he remained in the first room; the lagoon was too large an obstacle, and the tidewalker sprite needed room to whip up the currents he needed. And here he could reign supreme, unchallenged—mostly—by Seros or the sea serpent. A much-increased ambient mana and a new territory to claim.

But the last of my finished evolutions, for now. And an adventuring party cleared from my halls, retreated before they could do much but hassle my lesser creatures, but they had also confirmed a day had passed.

And I had given myself a day before deciding my new Named.

With my mana regeneration, I had enough for two—and two I would be choosing. A day of frantic rebuilding meant I knew where my weaknesses and strengths lay, though I hoped beyond hope that I had removed many of the former. Now it was time to accent the latter.

And, well. I was already in the Hungering Reefs.

The part of me always hungry for bloodshed, damn the consequences, flicked a point of awareness over to the hungriest creature of all my halls. Veresai was power, Rihsu was loyalty, Seros was commitment, Akkyst was knowledge, Nicau was position–

But my vampiric dryad was all hunger.

Oh, she deserved a Name, some eight times over—and hells above, she'd get one, but I'd have to make my stance clear. Collecting blood for her Ancestral Tree was well and good, but within reason; no longer culling my floors to feed an insatiable glut, but instead assisting. Training. Being a leader.

…was this the right choice? Would she use this power for anything other than destruction?

I hovered overhead, staring at her. Even with her missing arm, she was a monster; joints popping in and out as she leapt from isle to isle, breaching the water like a porpoise whenever she needed to swim across. Her jagged crown of thorns, the milky white of her eyes, the fangs filling her muzzle—she wasn't humanoid, not really. Oh, she fit the silhouette, so long as one ignored the digitigrade legs and bark-skin and many-jointed arms, but not in attitude. She hungered. She wanted more. She'd learned how to speak only because she wanted it, not because she wanted to speak to them. Just to speak.

Maybe she wouldn't be a leader in the way I knew I needed. But she could be an inspiration; proof there was power if one pursued it. And perhaps her Name would grant her more intelligence, the ability to cooperate with other species.

I was putting too much hope on that, I knew. But watching her knife through the water, a triggerfish clasped in her jaws, I remembered the surprise at seeing one of my vampiric mangroves far from its original nesting point. Then, watching it move, learn, adapt—and unlock an evolution to do it more. Her ambition was clear, and she'd wiped Alda's entire party off the map by herself.

She would get a Name. Damn the consequences that were surely coming, but she'd get it. I needed cooperation, yes, but I also needed monsters, and there was no doubt she could take that role.

In contrast, my other Name would have to be a leader, a bonafide general to lead my creatures forward underneath my raid-frenzy. My first thought, still fixated on Shoth as I was, was of the beast-tamer kobold; or kobold tamer now, I supposed. A lifetime ago, shaking rats to trip up adventurers; now, hunting alongside the scorch hounds and slitting Shoth's throat.

But now. Not yet, at least. He had only just undergone his first evolution; I wanted to see him in his new role for a while longer before I granted him a spool of Otherworld magic. Not that I was expecting him to fail, but it was certainly a different beast entirely to get a Name; and one success didn't merit that kind of power.

Eventually, though. However much it tetched me to have him embrace his fire-drake ancestry, I couldn't deny he'd gotten strong. At least I had Rihsu following Seros—or, I had Rihsu, considering she had sworn herself away from me.

Of the original three kobolds, there was another. Chieftess.

She had a name, given by her tribe and cemented by Nicau, as a chieftess; a leader. Even before her evolution she had led her kobolds through the Drowned Forest, capturing Nicau so long ago, building traps, hunting, harassing invaders. Not strong at the beginning, but she'd evolved once, and was already making a dangerous legacy in the Hungering Reefs. She'd been commanding her tribe since the moment I'd given her one, and she'd earned their loyalty well over. A Name would only help. Her power would increase with it, whatever her blessing ended up being. She had ambition, though not as much as the vampiric dryad, and I knew she'd tackle the world if it meant her tribe survived. And her independence—well, it had been her asking to venture into the Myvnu Jungle with Nicau.

…where she was right now. Outside of the dungeon. Away from me.

Shit.

How lovely of me to decide to wait on Naming my creatures until I'd better settled; and now my preferred choice was galavanting outside with no timeline for return. The impatient part of me—rather the majority—wanted to Name someone else just to do it; maybe the stormcaller sprite, maybe the sea serpent, maybe even Bylk. All of them were powerful and deserving in their own way, but beyond Bylk, none had expressed the leadership I wanted—and frankly, Bylk had Akkyst to help lead.

Chieftess technically had Nicau, but even I couldn't be generous enough to call him a leader.

No. I'd wait. No matter how much it hurt, I would wait for her return, and then reawaken another Named to my halls. I didn't have half a thought as to what her blessing would be; something for her tribe, hopefully, or perhaps some draconic awakening. The stars were for options.

But there was one Name I could give, and give I would.

I floated down to her, hovering overhead with the intangible coalescation of a stormcloud. She pulled herself out of the water onto a half-moon isle and cocked her head to the side, thorns bristling—gently, I pushed the sensation of going to her Ancestral Tree for this.

It was a suggestion she took gladly—diving right back into the water, maw still holding a triggerfish and remaining claws speared through two prismatic dartfish. She cleaved through the waves, enough of a threat even roughwater sharks turned away from her shadow, others fleeing from her presence. Gods, what a beast she was. In my heart I knew she was likely twice-evolved, considering vampiric mangroves were too powerful to be baseline, and I couldn't wait to see where she went next. She'd tackle my whole dungeon if I gave her the chance.

She hit the lagoon like a wave, cresting over atoll walls until she made it to the central island where her Ancestral Tree grew, identical to those around, merely another mangrove in the sprawling forest. It was near humorous to see them next to each other—it, a familiar tree; her, a monstrous nightmare.

She hissed to the air, half-crouched, weight shifted to her left side as her missing arm overbalanced her. I– hoped that maybe she could regrow it, being a mixture of flesh and bone and bark and leaf, but I didn't know. Dryads had regenerative abilities, such as Sanguine who I had devoured so long ago, but she had attuned herself to it; my vampiric dryad was only for hunger. Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, she would devour.

I pressed my mana into her, weaving the Otherworld connection like a lattice over her mind. She twitched and reared up, cautious and curious; I threaded myself into her until we were as close to one as could be. Her hunger, our hunger—the saliva pooling between our fangs—the blood trickling down our claws—the red-red-red world before us—the hunt–

Vampiric Dryad

Svythe

This Ancestral Tree is one of death and consequence, and so too is its servant. It stalks the world for blood to deliver back to its home, armed with piercing fangs and the loyalty that brings empires to their knees.

Blessing of the Hunter: all gateways are opened.