Chapter 8

Some words were said.

It didn’t matter what they were, to be honest, as long they were sincere. Vrraet sat at the centre of the circle, his legs and tail folded underneath him as he concentrated. Elst, his Bygail counterpart, adopted the same pose, heads hanging down in reverence. For the moment, the two Iasgaireans were alone in the darkened chamber, motionless besides their moving mouthpieces, sounds tumbling out in cascades. Around them, similarly inside the circle were a multitude of items: prongs, a knife, a jewelled bracelet.

There were two other circles, slightly overlapping the single on in the middle. The two partitions that were born of the overlap, they remained empty as the rest of the centre circle filled with lines, scripts and runes, a depiction of powers and thoughts running in between. It was a trading zone, a space where neither side held dominion.

In the third circle, the one that sat on the opposite side of the room was an egg, surrounded in crushed herbs of various kinds. A Wutwyrm’s, its capability of progeny strong, powerful, suitable to host any spirit and to give it a form. It remained motionless, waiting for its moment. Under it was a symbol, a name, a concept, written into the very stones, its tail-end branching out into its partitioned wall like a grasping arm.

Then, the words came to an end, their chanting paused for a brief moment as they reached a critical point in their ritual.

“... With three items of importance, these lowly ones beg for your lenience,” said Elst.

He produced the first object, or two say, objects — a heavily tarnished silver prong, finely made; a chisel, bronze, bent and beaten back to shape. Neither one had worth aside for their meaning to their former owners. Slowly and methodically, he set the two items into their partition, their eyes averted.

“The proof of identity, freely given, we beseech your forgiveness for our intrusion,” Vrraet intoned, hands firmly clasped.

“The second items,” Elst continued, struggling to not pause in confusion. When had they moved to the second? Whatever happened to the first? Shrugging off the sensation of loss, he finished the sentence, “Sacrifices of flesh, blood from our veins, given in atonement and sincerity.”

His hand held a short ivory knife, a bleeding wound in his palm. Vrraet’s own mirrored his, scarlet drifting in the water.

“The third items,” he had said, “With a payment of earthly treasure, we seek an audience with the great being.”

Then, there was silence, his words finished.

They had made their offer.

The third circle shimmered. In it, the egg shivered, cracked, fissures opening along its crystalline surface. From within, the unformed yolk stretched, shifted and morphed into something, all pliable freely given. In an instant, a hundred days worth of growth elapsed as the fetus formed, scales creeping into existence from within the tender flesh. A pair of slitted eyes grew from pinpricks into massive orbs, swivelling inside their sockets before settling onto the Iasgaireans. With a crack that seemed almost ear-splitting, the front half of the shell collapsed into itself, plumes of gel-like substance escaping, billowing against the boundaries of the wall, obscuring the interior of the invisible walls like so much smoke and ash.

It arrived, Vrraet thought to himself as shivers threatened to erupt. Without even having to see it, he knew it to be true. He knew that that the thing in front of him was no more than an extension of the greater Entity that he had encountered but that didn’t prevent his limbs from trembling. Despite his knowledge and his relentless preparations for the event, none of their safeguards helped against the instinctual fear that blossomed in his heart.

Even from beyond the barriers, the effects the Entity had on the environment was evidential. A thin layer of frost had begun to spread upon the ground, up alongside the walls, the ambient heat draining away into nothingness as it swirled into the smog. From where their skin was touching the ground, the Iasgaireans felt the icy cold seeping into their flesh, growing over their scales.

Their anticipation peaked, both anxiously waiting as the Entity finished its arrival, hidden behind the veil of ink darkness.

It spoke — I spoke. It wasn’t a voice nor was it a command. It was a thought, an idea, a concept, its intention apparent and clear.

“Speak”, I wished.

The serpentine body of the juvenile Wutwyrm emerged from the clouded water, trailing a line through the gel, revealing itself for but a brief moment as scales glittered in the dim light. There was something decidedly wrong about it, as if it weren’t quite entirely complete, as if it weren’t quite there. From one second to the next, it unravelled and reformed itself endlessly, its flesh parting and stitching back together in a loop of destruction and reconstruction, skin and bones flying apart only to join at the seams again as I finished a circle within the confines.

“We humbly thank the great one to cast their eyes upon us,” Vrraet’s voice carried out, firmer than he had expected. His chest felt cold, his mind far, far off as if he couldn’t quite believe the scene before him, seeming too fantastic to be true, “And we hope to receive your boons and wisdom.”

I didn’t respond for a few seconds, allowing their anxiousness to stew for a bit. Only then did I allow them to speak.

“O great one, by what name shall we know of you?” Vrraet said, straightening slightly. He was nervous, his heart was pounding and every word felt like it was dragged out across gravel.

I didn’t answer in words or commands this time. Instead, I sent them an image. An image of my [Name]. Through the lines engraved within the stone, the little packet of thought travelled through to their side of the Circles.

With a grunt, the duo received it. As it was merely an image, a second-hand recreation of its true meaning — having tied quite a bit of [Essence] containing elements of worship and reference along with the predatory nature of living beings, they felt the sensation claw its way into their head. Not merely an intrusive thought, these memories meld into theirs seemingly, them having left the channel wide open.

However, Vrraet’s design was true. It functioned as intended and have protected the two from the potentially mind rending influence. My control wasn’t quite perfect yet, having little to practice it on but it should be pretty non-lethal. The little flashes of senseless [Essence] helped build mystery too, I think. Vrraet certainly thought so.

Taking a brief moment of reprieve, Vrraet invoked a second question, “What is your plan with the Iasgairean?”

This question, I personally believed, was necessary to answer. I had wondered to myself many times, what exactly are you planning? Don’t you realize what you are doing is absolutely horrible? To that, I would answer that this had been far from the most horrible thing I could have done. Honestly, the other options are far more grotesque and in many ways violating most of my moral codes, as sparse as they were.

No, this is one of the most peaceful alternatives I could work. Besides, I had no intention to rip apart every soul I come across, taking it all by force and wiping a village, town or even a city off the map. Just exposing them to my [Name], gaining a foothold in their psyche as they repeat my symbols until I can form a tangible, spiritual connection with every one of them…

Then, they became mine.

I didn’t need worshippers. I could have just… taken them directly, having been bound. But then, that was the difference between a farm and a slaughterhouse. It was an investment for the long run, where the Iasgaireans will send me a constant flow of [Essence] whenever they thought of me.

Gaining power through worship… such delicate procedures need to be properly tested. Luckily for me, I had plenty of subjects and volunteers.

And with that in mind, I told them the truth, “To learn.”

What that could mean — well, it's entirely up to their conclusions.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, hopeful, even, Vrraet asked, “What were your intentions with the Saighgair?”

“I studied them. Their bodies were fascinating.”

That wasn’t a lie, but nor was it a whole truth. Even with that, I could feel the exterior shell that was linked to my [Name] crumble slightly as the mistruth took its toll. With some manual control, however, I could force it to stabilize just enough.

Vrraet visibly shivered as my words registered. Deep in his heart, he wondered about the fate of Saighgair. On an urge, I prompted him to ask, “... Will they be returned?”

“No.”

He didn’t slump over, not because of optimism but because his muscles were all locked up from fright. Even as he felt discouraged at the Entity — no, the Frayed Serpent’s response, he couldn’t stop now. The missing Saighgairs was just among the first questions he wished to ask and there were many more that he needed.

“Why were they taken?”

“A trade,” I whispered back, “Knowledge… for power. You know much and will know more.”

His mind stuttered to a stop as he considered those words. He didn’t remember any of it — in fact, he had only remembered heading out and his subsequent dreamed-filled return. Anything in between was blank and empty.

Until now, that is.

He sat there, shocked, frightened but mostly horrified. Even now, I could feel the [Essence] draining from my storages and in particularly the [Glow]., travelling across space and time in their mercurial instant to twist reality into the ones I had set.

Did I… Did I trade for power? Did I sacrifice all those Saighgairs? Momentously, he had no words to say except for the dull, thumping sense horror within him. Besides him, Elst sat as still as stone, resolutely staring at the floor as if it had somehow become the most curious thing in the room.

But it wasn’t time for contemplation. In fact, there was little time for him to dawdle.

With such a statement, more of own [Glow] had been taken away. I could clearly feel it leaving the small pool of [Essence] that I had constructed for the effigial shell. After I assured that my ‘self’ wouldn’t fall apart, I decided to go on the offensive instead and asked my own question.

“Are you here for another deal?”

There was a lull as he visibly considered the question, even surprised at my initiative. Elst shifted uncomfortably, tendrils all tangled up into a ball. Even if I hadn’t made a push on my part, Vrraet would not refuse the prospect. His thoughts wandered, digging deep into his conversation with the Sgnirmah, to his vows and to his concept of duty.

He had had two tasks.

One was to discover the origin of the mark, the [Name] that I had given him. He hadn’t been able to explain its powers and even now he couldn’t.

The second was to retrieve the Saighgairs. Well, he knew that couldn’t possibly happen any more than the possibility of turning back time but that didn’t matter. For the first time in many, many years, Vrraet decided to lie.

No, he couldn’t return to the Sgnirmah and tell her that he had contacted an outsider god. He couldn’t possibly return empty-handed with nothing more than a proclamation and an apology. He most definitely couldn’t return now without anything to show for.

It didn’t matter if he didn’t understand the runes himself, what did matter was that it worked and that he could fudge some things his way. Few people could comprehend his runes and fewer could boast to be better than him. And now, his people need weapons against the land striders and they need it quickly.

If I, he thought, If I could pretend, just so, that the name of the Frayed Serpent was simply another...

He made up his mind.

“What may we offer for such generosity?”

“Knowledge,” I answered simply, my bargain plain.

And so, he gave his and opened up his mind for my entry.

He didn’t have to. He was already linked to me in far more ways than he realized. At every moment in his life ever since he returned to the Sanctuary, he was mine in body and soul. Every thought and action was planned, thought and orchestrated with me over his shoulder, nestled within his heart. He was as much a finger of mine as he was himself. Even if manipulating someone else’s physiology did have some form of innate resistance that I could chalk up to the natural [Glow] everything living contains, it was still relatively simple to overcome that.

But, I enjoy autonomy. Speaking with only myself only serves as an… what was the word, an echo chamber, hearing only my own voice and nothing else.

Therefore, he was granted some leniency and freedom.

Besides, it had been interesting to take care of another being. Once upon a time, I had wanted a cat but the orphanage where I was from disliked having to clean up fur, piss and occasional scratch wounds so the dream remained void. Now, I had a pet that served to be far more interesting and engaging.

Not as cute though.

In return, I gave him a gift.

I had quite some time on my metaphorical hands during the week or two besides waiting and worming my way into those who had seen my [Name]. Even as muted as it was, the subtle influence I can wield escalates as long as the exposure continues. Thus, I spent some attention creating more opportunities to build up their obsession and the rest, I left it to thinking.

What could I offer? What would anyone use magic for?

For Vrraet, it was simple — power. Offensive things that can destroy ships, most preferably. That aside, after having gained access to the ability to create my own access to my ‘followers’ through a bridge of faith and obsession, I could send packets of [Essence] and even directly manipulate them from afar.

Have you ever seen yourself on camera? I had once and it was rather off-putting, my sense of awareness plummeting as I struggled to make sense of how space correlates from another perspective. Now, if I was so much as wish to, I could see through their eyes from anywhere, everywhere. I could feel every sense as palms, fingers cleaned an egg, scales aching from where they were kneeling from on stone, the cold building up and jaws munching on seaweed. If I wanted to, I could lose myself within the eddy of consciousness that I mind myself having access to.

If I hadn’t isolated my true self from all that madness and constructed a regulator to handle all this information, I would have surely gone mad.

But I digress.

As I was elaborating upon, I came to the conclusion that the things I could do were rather limited yet at the same time once I learned it, it would be rather easy for me to recreate again.

But again, being a rather orderly person, I decided to construct a list.

Again.

Whoop.

But, for the most part, the ‘gifts’ that I could give must increase in proportion to their devotion and sacrifices to me. After all, I wasn’t running a charity and I need a positive income of [Spirit: Presence] to make up for spent [Essence]. Thus, I had to make several cohesive tiers of abilities and powers that they could use.

For offensive uses, I had several ideas.

The first ones were rather straightforward and were ones that I had inadvertently developed quite some time ago. My {Breath} series of powers could easily be scaled down to more reasonable levels and given to those that worship me. Obviously, the two that I had created have rather different destructive potential so I ended up having to reconstitute the entire thing.

There was the basic blast type that shoots a ball of [Essence], functioning as a ballistic of force. I had tested it out several times on things that weren’t completely made of [Spirit] before such as rocks and the effects were surprisingly decent. It behaved rather similarly to a cannot that can eat away at targets instantly, serving as an immediate, projectile-based damage source. Beyond that, I could use the {Breath: Incendiary} option as some sort of super-pumped up version of it that will be reserved for those that were extremely devoted, especially since the burning, devouring red [Essence] was incredibly dangerous as it effectively scrambled the target into slush.

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Aside from the most obvious offensive abilities that rely on copious violence, I could also take advantage of the mind-bending effect of my [Name] by using the same bridge to overload the target’s brain. Obviously, I could quite possibly immediately take over via assimilation.

But, that didn’t mean I couldn’t scale the effect back from ‘mind control’ to ‘stun’. While being powerful would be great at selling me as a god, it would be counter-intuitive in encouraging them to improve and give me things.

I had many other ideas reserved and created, jamming them into my [Library] to be given out whenever they wished for it sincerely enough. However, I had no intention of giving Vrraet anything but the most basic ability for now.

Thus, through the link within the circles, I sent him a package of [Essence]. It was rather funny how the Summoning Circle he had spent so much effort in developing served to be utterly useless when facing me. The moment I had seared my brand into his brain, I could access him from anywhere and anytime. The most tragic yet hilarious part was that I was certain his design would work rather well against most conventional spirits and entities.

But… Not me.

It was just that I could slowly erode mental protections the moment they laid eyes on me, lingering as an undetectable infection until I subsume them in their entirety. If I couldn't directly alter and mould [Essence], I could never be able to do what I did just now.

It was also quite funny, to be honest, as I may have to keep up this sham for the rest of my existence just to seem less dangerous. I would shudder to imagine the horror this ability of mine could unleash on the world if had proper shoulders to do so.

Nonetheless, Vrraet received my boon.

I could honestly call it an ‘Eldritch Blast’ but I had the feeling that would trip some copyright issues or give people the wrong idea about its power. Either way, it was a toned-down version of my {Breath: Cannon}.

Vrraet gasped as he felt the foreign thing entered his mind. Every one of his nerves tingled and popped, strange sensation surging through his veins as whatever the Frayed Serpent gave him worked its way into his being. For several moments, all he could do was to convulse and shake while the entity’s gift rippled through his body. As soon as the burning, piercing sensation arrived, he found himself sitting within the Circles again. His eyes swivelled, tendrils sticking out as if he had received some shock. Then, he felt it.

Something new, something that wasn’t there just moments ago. It was like a new limb, a new fin, a new body part that was anchored to nowhere yet everywhere on his body at the same time. With every brush of water against his scales, he became more and more aware of the latent twitch he could so as much perform to summon the power to him. Overwhelmed, the strange, new knowledge burrowing through his mind and sinuses, he doubled over, clutching his head in shrivelling silence.

Next to Vrraet, Elst remained sitting, eyes bowed to the floor. He must have had noticed the strange seizures his compatriot had just underwent but said no word about it. We waited for a few moments for Vrraet to gather his strength again, Elst firmly planting his eyes away from my form in discomfort.

Then stutteringly, just as he began to recover from his ordeal, Vrraet grounded out, “This lowly one thank you for your generosity.”

You really shouldn’t.

But of course, I did not reply to that. I was mildly disappointed that Elst hadn’t asked for anything after all but he was correct in being cautious in preparing counteractive magic on himself. Either way, I was already within his heart and carving out my own little territory without him knowing any better, so the argument was rather silly, to begin with.

With nothing else needed here, I made my departure without much warning. Just as the Circles can allow me to enter from afar, I can similarly exit along the same route if needs be. The warping eye of the Wutwyrm swivelled one last time, peeking out from the cloud of embryonic gel before disappearing into it. Silently, the smog withdrew in a vacuum, swirling unto itself and siphoned back into the shells of the egg. In a heartbeat, there was no evidence that there was ever anything there.

The glow receded, the building ice and crystals finally stopped its advance across the surface of the floor and walls. Vrraet could feel the pressure that had been pressing on him even from beyond the barriers to lift and fade away, the massive and unknowable weight of its existence moving on from his flesh.

It’s over.

The difference between the Frayed Serpent’s departure and being in its presence was indescribable. It was as if his very soul was being drawn into its vortex, threatening to tear itself out from his body and into its maw. His mind lingered upon the Circles for some while before he finally confirmed to himself that the entity had indeed departed.

His limbs, strong as a Saighgairs should be felt weak and feeble. His attempt to stand only allowed him to lift off the ground before flopping helplessly as his arms, legs and fins failed to sustain his weight, even in the water. Elst held out an arm to stabilize him, concern apparent even within the silence.

Tentatively, the Bygail hoisted Vrraet from his slumped position and led him from the room, casting a single glance at where egg should be.

Vrraet’s head was pounding as the two left the chamber. The adjacent room had been cleared out to store some other miscellaneous items. Though, in this instance, it had been refitted to also serve as a study. Upon a shelf sat a selection of clay and coral jars, inscribed with a simple rune to prevent the build-up of muck within it. Without delay, Vrraet found himself gorging on the store of preserved fish roe that had been saturated with kelp-sugar.

They had expected bad reactions and prepared earnestly for possible effects on their psyches. The familiar tangy taste of fish roe — Vrraet held a deep fondness for it — and the sugar helped still their shaking extremities and returning some semblance of life to their bodies. It made a poor meal but he hardly cared at the moment. They didn’t speak until they had fully cleared out the jar, simply sitting there, eating until there was nothing left.

Concentrating, focusing on the crunching sensation and the oily taste of roe and sugar. The lesser rituals helped ground them again, allowing heat to return. It was also a symbol of returning to normalcy, something that Elst insisted on following through because of some intrinsic thaumaturgic properties Vrraet did not understand.

But he didn’t argue then and he certainly did not now. As his spindly fingers scraped against the bottom of the jar, only then did Vrraet looked at Elst with an acute dejectedness. Similarly, the Bygail gazed back blankly, tendrils all frozen up in unease.

“You did not accept its offer,” it was all that Vrraet could manage out, each word slow and measured with the attitude one would use when describing the weather.

“I did not and I do not understand how you did so,” Elst answered, sealing up his jar.

I suppose, the Saighgair thought to himself.

Carefully steering their conversation away, he commented, “The Entity…”

“Is bad news.”

Vrraet stared, “I was about to say, ‘provides a unique opportunity.’”

“That did not exempt it from being bad news,” Elst shook his tendrils, “And the Entity is something extremely risky.”

“We survived.”

“... And at what cost?”

“We both know that question cannot be answered, given its nature,” Vrraet argued back, “And now we understand what it seeks and how we can use it to our advantage.”

“And a bit more, I think,” stated Elst.

“... It was not a deal I could refuse.”

Elst didn’t speak for a while, numbly cocking his head to the side in consideration. Then, almost abruptly, he asked, “And what did you gain?”

“I… I am not sure. It… I could feel this thing at the back of my hand, almost like a third arm. It is difficult to describe.”

It was like some sort of switch, a new appendage that he hadn’t realized he had or some previously blocked part of his psyche had just opened up. He knew full well that if he so willed it, a surge of thaumaturgic energy will gather and unleash itself as a blast of power — something that could help the Iasgairean’s combat the land striders and to…

Oh, who was I kidding, he thought to himself.

The Bygail nodded slowly, “Strength, magical powers of some sort?”

“I would think so… yes. Something of that sort”

“I suggest that we not test it here.”

“Yes.”

“... What is your plan now?”

“I do not know,” Vrraet answered honestly, flexing his fingers, feeling the tingly shock travelling up and down his bones, “I will have to report back to the Sgnirmah soon.”

“Doing that may not be wise.”

“Faith,” Vrraet noted, “As you said.”

“Not — that is not what I mean.”

“It didn’t matter what we did. As long as we made preparations and did it as the Sgnirmah orders, there is little conflict.”

“Is that really what you believe?”

“I know it to be true. Remember what we are tasked with, Elst. Remember what and why we were made into the scholars and researchers of our kind?”

“Because we know nothing then.”

“And as time passes, I come to realize the same. For hundreds of years, dozens of lives we were here, doing the same task over and over again.”

“We are more than that now,” Elst said, pacing around the small chamber, “We were meant to grow and aid the colony in more ways than just one.”

“And I am now,” Vrraet said, stood up as well, “If the Sgnirmah asks for strength, she will receive it. If she disapproves of our activities, then we shall cease.”

“Truly?”

“Of course.”

Vrraet lied.

“If you insist,” said Elst after a short pause, “However, I doubt that she would be open for an… audience. She seemed to have retreated into her chambers and had demanded that no one bothers her unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“Then I suppose it can wait,” Vrraet easily answered, “Before that, I will have several things to do.”

“You do?”

“I am due for a meeting with Cuain.”

“Cuain… She’s a Stjernmah, yes? The one that was formerly responsible for the…ah, lost Saighgairs?”

“Yes.”

“And what will you tell her?”

Vrraet thought for a bit before answering.

“The truth, I suppose.”

“Including your current involvement?”

“I will tell her that we’ve come to some manner of agreement,” Vrraet said, “Either way, let us not stay here for longer.”

“... Yes, let us leave.”

Outside of their little base, the sun had just recently set past the point of the horizon. Through the filter of the sea, he could only barely see the last of the orange light that stained the clouds, muted as they were. The journey back was uneventful, plodding and cold. Fields of dark kelp stretched across the underwater landscape into a veritable forest.

On any other day, Vrraet would feel rather uncomfortable being out in the open. While years, centuries of living here had dulled his sense of excitement, it didn’t remove the constant, instinctual reminder that his life was so fragile and easy to lose. Now, with a strong body that didn’t belong to him and strength that practically boiled in his blood, he felt an odd sense of confidence, self-assurance that he would have thought belonged firmly to blood-mad warriors and hunters.

It sang to him, this newly granted power, begging to be used and he had every intention to indulge in it. Furthermore, besides the power he now knew to saturate his entire being, he found the knowledge that he previously evaded him and now caught — the warping, damaging effect that had imposed itself onto his trident.

That was the initial gift, and he was too foolish and stupid to understand the gift he was granted. Now, new designs flooded his mind, schematics, plans and patterns rearranging themselves until they formed something cohesive, something more. Never had he felt so certain that this was what will turn the tides upon the land striders, to sink the metal frigate they had boasted.

Strength, given from a god, he reminded himself.

It was beyond anything he had ever seen.

The Stjernmah and their brand of movement-related magic, the shape-shifting the Sgnirmah had shared with him — those seemed to all pale in comparison he had access to now. Not in terms of versatility but it was a promise. And he knew if he could just learn more, if he receives knowledge and gave it to the Frayed Serpent, his own power will never cease to grow.

There was so much waiting to be discovered out there, he didn’t know which one to answer and he was excited. Never had he played the role of a student to some being that could completely provide such power and knowledge whilst asking so little. The isolationist policy of the Sgnirmah and her Stjernmahs had them jealously guarding their secrets and magic, leaving most of the Iasgaireans powerless.

Mundane.

Elst was correct but not in the way that Vrraet agreed on. With the current method of relying on muscles, tridents and old-fashioned attacks, it would be impossible for them to face the land striders as they were not or with weapons that they could reasonably develop. Elst proposed some sort of technological revolution in that the Iasgaireans migrate to land in order to make use of metal, explore more options in crafting such as fire and to expand the influence of the colony.

Whilst meritable, Vrraet professionally thought that the entire concept was rather silly. Metal weaponry and armours were undeniable much more protective than the chitin and coral weave traditionally used by the Saighgair, they were also much heavier and greats too much drag to be viable for underwater combat or boarding. Not to mention, most Iasgaireans have little desire to ever venture above water for more than half a day, especially not in a dry environment such as, for example, the blazing fire of a forge.

No, Vrraet respectfully carried the opinion that using magic, a versatile, weightless tool that is most importantly, accessible to every member of the Iasgaireans, would be a much more suitable venue for development.

Even Elst had to agree with that.

I’ll have to expand my efforts to inscribe all of this down.

He felt feverish yet he had never been more filled with a sense of purpose. It was with the same purpose that he strode into his chamber in the Sanctuary before promptly falling asleep against the archway, too drained to continue.

Vrraet was just one Bygail amongst many.

I watched him rest for a while, contemplated as I sift through the many memories and thoughts flowing through me. With every mutter of my [Name], carved statuettes and inscriptions, my awareness bloomed and my reach expanded. However, I banished that to the back of my head as I remained there.

Saighgairs are large. Being usually at least two meters tall, they would be considered hulking monstrosities if they were to ever be seen on the face of Earth. However, as I watched through many pairs of eyes, scattered here and there like stars on a night sky, I was suddenly mindful of just how fragile these beings were when compared to me.

Fish tank.

That would be an apt description. Remove the filter and they will die. Forget to feed them and they will die. Leave them alone and they will die. Trapped inside a glass tank, governed by their own little policies until the end of their days. I hadn’t thought of problems such as logistics or warfare at all in my short life and yet, even those concepts seemed to become laughable in the face of what I could do if I merely wish to.

It's a lot of power for someone that quite definitely lacked a proper moral code. I probably should not ever be trusted to use or own such… freedom. Frankly, I don’t think anyone should.

And what am I to do?

Play God?

No, as twisted, removed from humanity as I became, I still acted with an agenda. But despite it all, it was easy to lose myself within everyone that formed me. As every moment passes, a new mind perceives my [Name] and I spread even further.

Somewhere, a Saighgair warrior was busy cleaning off the remnants of flesh stuck to his trident, having been used to hunt just some while ago. With reverence reserved for a lover, as devoid of affection an Iasgairean was, he carved a symbol into its hilt, blessed with the ability to wield it far better than his peers.

Somewhere, in a clearing surrounded by husks, a Stjernmah cradled her last living charge in her sleep. My [Name] glimmered on their carapaces and scales as I worked myself deeper, making changes to give myself more time. Her flesh warped as her wish was granted, bubbling over without her notice.

Somewhere, deep inside the Sanctuary, a Bygail clawed futilely against the rock, trapped within as a rogue eddy collapsed it around him. In his arms, he held a single a piece of ancient masonry, inscribed with what he perceived to be hope. Thus, he prayed and begged for the first time to someone that could be willing to give.

Somewhere, Vrraet slept, unknowing of the world that had already changed around him and the thoughts that weren’t his, working for a queen that’s no longer the one he once thought he knew.

Somewhere, the Sgnirmah laid comatose as I patiently inspected every single bit of her. Even with all her power that she had brought over from the depths of her ancestral home, she couldn’t resist my influence as she puzzled over my [Name]. Too naive and lacking knowledge of what I am, she had quickly fallen prey to me when she unwittingly invited me into her own home.

How ironic.

And with her in tow, I opened the gates to the stored knowledge that she had. The 'reincarnation', the ability to transform flesh, the ability to command and many more. In quick, concise movements, I had her disassembled and merged ourselves together, gloving myself in her skin.

Just like that, I took over.

There weren't any dramatic light shows, no villainous monologues, no evil announcements. It was subtle, slow and soft. One by one, they fall under my rule, branded. It wasn't immediate though it could've been, changing their psyche bit by bit until they were mine, body and soul. Through one reason or another, whether it be through their volition or not, just by perceiving me or even having the idea of me in their head, I've already won.

It should be a matter worth celebrating. Indeed, how often can you say, I took over a kingdom? How often could one become a god to the godless? Yet, it was underwhelming to the extreme.

I could feel everyone’s mind within my grasp, wishes, some muted, some sharp, each delicate to the touch. Each hate, love, hope and despair, I could feel it dimly pass through each mind.

Despite it all, I felt small.

Alone with hundreds, I sat inside my hovel, preparing for a transferal while knowing that there would be more to come. It’s easy to be lost within all the multitudes, forgetting about one-self and everything that entails. I could definitely do so.

I would apologize but that sentiment was more than overdue now. How were you supposed to apologize when quite literally none of their opinions matters? Should I be glad that I hadn’t done this to humans instead?

I thought of Other Elisa and wondered if she would feel gratitude if she understood the effort I made to scrape together some bits of we, together, once were. I couldn’t think like a god or act like a god now, but sooner or later, there will be no difference. Even with my [Safe] protecting and isolating me from the majority of the rampant thoughts, it still couldn’t help against the fact that I could tear it all apart on a whimsy.

Instead of agonizing over this, I made limits instead, I made rules.

As I’ve said before, I wasn’t cruel and nor would I wish to completely take over every soul. If they wished for something, I would help them.

Diversity is good.

Diversity is necessary.

Over the next few days, several major events had occurred. The Stjernmah had emerged from her seclusion. Vrraet’s new invention had revolutionized their military. Elst had forever changed the Iasgaireans’ system of measurement and policies. Cuain received the Sacred Vessels that she had so wanted as the population sky-rocketed in the coming months.

The truth be told, nothing in between truly mattered. It was a test.

To them, life continued on as it had done so.

No one would remember any of the previous events but me.

Maybe, it's better this way.

Other Elisa would have disagreed but I’ve put her away for now. Putting her through weeks and months of boredom would be cruel, waiting for a chance. I've gotten what I needed, the Iagaireans had gotten what they needed just as well. It was a tumultuous month, both for them and for me.

In a body that wasn't mine, I spent a night staring up at the sky that I did not recognize, washing atop the waves. In a body that wasn't mine, I was preaching to the mass of Bygails, teaching them the knowledge that I had pilfered. In a body that wasn't mine, I reigned victorious against myself as I claimed the role of the War Leader, my bodies covered in wounds.

In a body that wasn't mine, I tethered myself to the walls, spreading my flesh across a single gargantuan crystal, basking in its warmth and power. Below me, I worshipped myself, hundreds of souls giving praise. Somewhere, Vrraet sat next to Elst and Vahisk, slowly talking about the plans for the future.

They were happy and I was glad that they felt that way. Now, we have time to spare.

We were quiet and slow.

Very quiet.

There’s no need to ever be hasty.

And under the deep, dark reaches of the ocean, we waited.

Then, a Saighgair scout returned, just on the last days before ice covered the ocean in the encroaching winter. A ship, he had proclaimed.

Interesting.