Germination 13

August 22nd, 2032.

I collapsed onto the couch of the private meeting for our little gang of plucky traumatized teenagers.

Ten days was a long time to hunt down a growing hive of monsters, but we had successfully hunted down numerous enclaves of threaded ones. The number of deaths hadn’t reached the initial hundreds killed when we didn’t know what they were.

I ignored the faint itch of a rift, that faint ripple in the Real that indicated a path to another reality. I had practiced using the void to open portals almost nonstop, feeling the painful screams of the quantum vacuum. Ultima and I had been closing the rifts, the thinnies in reality.

That had kept the threaded ones from causing large scale incursions on Earth as they were pressed on Ersete. I didn’t need to wake up one morning and find out half the town was dead.

“Celia?” I heard Althea from my left, as I cracked my spine. I opened my eyes with a yawn, watching the pretty werewolf. “That can’t be comfortable.”

I shrugged. “Meh. Unless you’re offering your lap I’m good.” I replied without thinking. Then went over what I just said.

There was heat on my face, from a growing blush.

Althea giggled. “Is that the deal you want to make? Because I can make that happen.”

I groaned. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you make it way too easy,” Althea was giggling. “And because we’re friends and I want to cuddle you.”

“You’re very affectionate.” Was all I said, my eyes darting to her thighs. Wondering. “But…” I trailed off as my mind couldn’t help but bring up ideas of how comfy she must be.

Althea’s lips were curled into a breathtaking smile. “Celia, we just came back from deadly missions against literal hordes of monsters. Of course I’m a bit cuddly right now.”

“I’m sweaty and smell bad…” I shifted tactics, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.

“We’re all sweaty, and you don’t smell bad at all.” Althea waved off the concern with a wolfish grin. “So if you want to cuddle then we can.”

I licked my lips, pulling back a loose bang with an uncertain feeling in my chest.

It was tempting, very tempting…

…

Fuck it.

With a sigh I scooted over to my friend, and rested my head on her broad shoulders. She leaned forward, sending out a warm affectionate huff of hot breath.

She was warm, solid, comfortable, neatly pressing against my softer frame.

“I notice you’ve been making a lot of progress with shamanism, has that book really helped?” I asked Althea, leaning into her side with a quiet release of breath.

“It taught me how to understand the basics, how to work the spirits with prayer, and certain facts of being a shaman.”

“Invoking the spirits, it’s a conversation, convincing and demanding of spirits to do what you want.” I added, remembering those texts. Technically any witch could become a shaman, but some were born for the role, the profession. Althea was one such witch, her energies touching both worlds.

Cyfrin chains were an excellent way to talk with spirits, for those who couldn’t naturally infuse their voice with spiritual power. It was how Ultima worked them into her tools, rather than the harsh spirit bottles of the modern day.

They were insidiously simple devices, infuse a gemstone or suitable stone with magic, then bait a spirit with something they enjoy. A sprinkle of coal, a splattering of soil, or the petals of a flower. Then drain the power in a knot of ten looping circles, trapping them within. Once that is done, a spirit can be manipulated easily by enfolding a spell weave for them to cast.

The actual process wasn’t actually bad… It was the steps left out that made it ethically dubious. The point of baiting was to get a foot in the door, to negotiate a contract, a deal with a spirit. Not to imprison them. Like if you went up to a company to get a job, and they forced unpaid labor out of you once on site.

“I’ve been learning about shamanism from Crocotta,” Althea revealed with a casual joy. “She’s taught me how to cross into both the Outer Sphere and the High Spirit, as well as how to walk the spirit roads… and to never walk the Long Road.”

I blinked. “Long Road?”

Althea shrugged. “Crocotta says it leads to the lines of the heavens themselves, connecting the celestial spheres.”

Spirit roads can go to space.

“Huh, neat. Anything else? I know you can learn Secrets from the spirits, unique powers granted by them.”

Althea snorted. “You act like you can’t do that too. Or what was Hajar doing when he showed you the Erset glyph?”

“I’m talking specifically about how you can make a deal with a spirit and they’ll teach you how to shape their energies into a spell.” I snarked, mixing her belly.

My friend just laughed. “I know. They’re weaves of the spirits taught to mortals, and I’ve learned a few through Crocotta. Becoming Flame is one such Secret, allowing me to be Fire. A lot of spells descend from them, drawing only on their own energy instead of drawing on the spirit world.”

“What kind of Secrets have you learned?” I asked while adjusting my position.

“Dance of War, a spirit spell which binds durability to one’s heart, allowing for near-invulnerability until one falters in offense. Crocotta… She says a big part of why I can’t shift is tied to my shamanism. That the wolf inside me withered without the ability to freely express my magic.”

Her claws flexed out, blades of keratin almost two inches long. Had they gotten larger?

“But you’re getting better aren’t you?” I asked, feeling worried for her sake. Her wolf was part of her soul, the essence of her being. Soul and spirit intertwined with the pact between wolf and witch.

Althea squeezed my shoulder with a shy fanged smile. “Of course I am, you’re the reason why.”

“Cough cough.”

I snapped my head towards the bemused smirk of Ajani, and Mags—

My face flushed with anger and embarrassment, then confusion. “Did you guys seriously just say cough cough?”

Ajani rolled his eyes. “We do need to focus on things besides flirting, even if today is a ‘relaxation’ day.”

“Not that it isn’t cute to hear you two talk about magic like a bunch of nerds.” Mags added with a shrug of her shoulders, currently wearing a black top, sunglasses and long tight jeans.

“She’s not wrong.” I jumped when I found Dinah to my right, in a lounging position comfortable for her tail. She had one arm crossed over her bust, while the other slid down her chin with a flash of white teeth. “It is quite cute.”

I blew a raspberry at the annoyingly sexy dragoness. “Right, break time. We’ve worked out a lot of the logistics of the threaded ones. They’re coming from a location at the center of the Boiling Sea, but gathering an army takes time, and we need to scout it out carefully.”

“Hah! You speak sense my tiny human friend,” Farrow spoke loudly with a beaming expression on his porcine face. “We must rest to refresh our minds and bodies for what’s to come!”

I nodded, rubbing my arms. “So what should we do?”

All five of the witches shared a look and I was suddenly afraid.

----------------------------------------

I flinched as my cards exploded before my eyes, devoured by the searing White. I had gotten bullied into playing a magic game of cards, which had very strange and yet simple rules.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Soul Cards was the name of the game, which involved special enchanted cards that you would animate with your essence. It was a very basic of animation magic, distilling your Gift into material form. So you’d get animated cards capable of simple magic drawing from each source.

A card of the Red could throw fireballs, beams of heat or redirect energy flow. A card of the Black, could create shadows, drain other things, or obscure itself. The job of the players was to put your cards against one another in a free for all. To use your strengths and your skills to defeat or outlast the other players.

Some cards were just one source, others could be an even blend, mixing up into simple cantrips. Althea had Green and Blue cards and various mixed cards, Hakim had Green and Red cards.

“I hate this game.” I declared the truth with a frown, immediately folding from the evil known as Soul Cards.

Ajani chuckled. “You’re being a sore loser human, I am the master of this game.” The tiny goblin kicked his legs in sweet victory, his massive cloak ruffling with the motion.

Hakim made a face, watching the goblin with a faint chuckle. “This is the first time Celia has ever played this game. It takes time to earn the skills you have, which is impressive.” He just offered a sincere grin.

Ajani turned a deeper shade of green, ears perking up like a cat’s. Even though he was closer to a bat-frog-primate really. He was interesting to look at because besides the two wapuk he was the most divergent from human-build.

A… common effect of immersion evolution is bloodline interchange with other species. Horizontal gene transfer in human parlance and scientific literature, it was actually a rather well established craft.

Goblins… evolved in the Hollows, in the realm of the underground created by the fall of the Titans. It was massive, a network of subterranean caverns criss-crossing the entire planetary crust, down to the mantle. They were twisted places, not unlike the Mangana village. Carved by the shifting veins and arteries of dead gods, space expanding and contracting under deep layers of magic.

Goblins were mammalian, but bore traces of other features to thrive in the deep underground. But it was a place of darkness, not completely due to the light generated both by life and magic-infused geological structures.

Ajani had large eyes and big ears to take in both light and sound, pebbled frog-like skin with inset capillary tubes used both for cooling and breathing through skin. He had sensory whiskers along his brows to sense vibration, and a long body and flexible joints. Plus his little bat nose, and weird flexible hand-feet.

Goblins were a strange mix of disturbing and cute. So… just like frogs and bats.

It had taken me a few tries to get some of that deep lore out of him. But I had managed to get some books on his people’s history.

With an awkward cough I took a step back from the table, moving back over to a couch. The game was being played over a large table with chairs suited to house all of us.

“I see you’re doing well aren’t you?” I shivered at the sultry tones of Dinah, her fiery voice and presence was hard to ignore.

“I’m getting to know Ajani and your cousin better, what's not to like?” I felt a bit of emotional exhaustion then and there. People are tiring. “It’s all fine. Totally.” I rubbed my temple with a grimace.

Dinah huffed, smoke billowing out from her mouth. “You don’t need to hide needing a break from me. But… I understand why you wouldn’t fully trust me.” The dragoness nervously tapped her claws together. She was less like a cool princess and more like an awkward teenager.

She was an awkward teenager.

I just offered a crooked and certainly awkward grin. “That’s not the problem at all, just not good with words. At least I don’t think I am. If it isn’t a rant.”

I rant a lot, it lets off the pressure in my mind, lets my thoughts out into the world. People didn’t always like that.

Dinah nodded curtly, brushing back stray lavender hair. “I can… empathize with that sentiment, I’ve never understood people that well either. My parents helped much as did my cousin Farrow and Alice. Grandmother… always encouraged me to embrace my differences. Even if always with the sentiment that it was because of her.”

“You don’t know how to feel about her do you?” I asked quietly, watching the card battle. Ajani was losing to Althea, who was using her shamanism to turn it around on him.

“No. I thought how she balanced praise with criticism was normal…” Dinah trailed off, pain in her voice. “She would build us back up then tear us back down, I just thought it was how she showed affection.”

My face twisted in anger. “No. That’s not how you show affection, not at all. It reminds me of…” I flinched at her stare. I sighed with a pained noise. “My mom doesn’t talk with her parents anymore. They never hurt her physically but… they had a lot of problems.”

“They… just stopped being family?” Dinah sounded horrified, confused even.

“Family is important, but it’s not always tied by blood. Family is supposed to care, it’s not supposed to hurt for someone to love you. I doubt it’s different here is it?”

Dinah swallowed. “No. I suppose not… but magic is tied to family… it tears up at our energies if that bond is broken.”

“Does it kill you?” I asked. “Because if not, then sometimes… you need to find a new family, a new clan who cares, who won’t hurt you because they can, because they know no other way. Sometimes the world hurts you… and you have to break that cycle. My mother did. She’s not perfect and she has hurt me, but not in a way that taints everything we are.”

No one was perfect, but abuse was a very different ball game from mistakes and imperfect people. She had encouraged me, and didn’t tear down everything I had done. But she was also a very intense person, who put too much pressure on my shoulders.

Dinah looked lost. “It hurts though.”

I know.

“Then we can take it one step at a time, you still have members of your family that love you. And friends too.” I gestured to the controlled chaos of witches and otherkind.

“We’re going to need them.” Dinah said. “If we want to make things better where we can.”

“Mhmm.”

We don’t really have an army do we?

I wonder where we could get one?

----------------------------------------

I see you, Reyna, Althea chuckled in her head at the booming calls of Celia’s animal friend. The Nightscreamers were powerful sleek creatures of the skies, and among the most clever and tricky of the griffins.

A combination of their speed and their ability to send thoughts on the winding expanse of the sky made them even more dangerous. They could rally entire hordes of griffins, coordinating across vast distances.

She knew all the stories, the children of the whirlwind, riders of the great high winds. Whimsical as they come, spreading their wings from sea to shining sea.

I can see the both of you are a lot alike.

Which made it rather more obvious that the young and powerful griffin was signaling for help, spreading a signal, a broadcast along wind and storm. She was standing on her hindlimbs, easily rising nearly three meters in the air. Wings were lifted to scoop up air, energies shifting and twisting in the wind.

Did Celia have any idea of what she had found in Reyna? In the implications of a spirit-beast choosing to stay, to walk with her instead of without her?

Celia is amazing, but she can be pretty absentminded and unaware. It’s only because of Dinah and her little brother that she’s able to know local politics.

Which made it all the more crucial to have people watching her back. To help her avoid the pitfalls of their broken kingdoms, to survive the dangers both within and without.

She released a growl, a deep rumble in her throat. Not a warning, but a greeting, and the booming roars were put on pause. The griffin, Reyna dropped back down, wings folding back in fractions of a second.

“Hey.” Althea greeted promptly with a crooked grin, a vigorous nod on her face. “Are you calling for friends?”

The griffin didn’t speak with the voice of her soul, with the light borne within her flesh and bone. Simply acknowledging her with a nod, a firm muscled neck tensing for a light flare of feathery manes.

“Thank you, Celia is great but she can be a handful at the best of times.” Nothing wrong with that, but careful is the name of the game here. “I hope you take care of her well, because well… I know what you are even if she doesn’t.”

Reyna bowed her head, shrugging powerful shoulders, flight muscles tensing like iron, like steel.

“You’re nothing like the stories we were told as children,” Althea whispered as she glided her fingers down the length of the griffin. “You’re not monsters that go bump in the night. The dangerous spirit-beasts hated throughout all of history.”

But then she had reason to know histories could lie.

Reyna nodded vigorously, aping the gestures and postures of her human friend. Absently, Althea noted how subconscious magic muted the rumble of the wind, twisting to the whims of the magical beast.

Around her head lingered a cloud of spirits, all of them young but indicative of who and what Reyna was. Althea’s vision of the worlds beyond and the creatures which called it home had grown in leaps and bounds.

Good, was the whisper of the mysterious spirits who flocked to her Celia. The swirling of the void which protected her friend from the malice of the more evil of spirits.

I didn’t know.

It had hurt to learn that her friend had been in danger every moment of her life back home. But it was the why that was the question, what had provoked the wrath of the more dangerous spirits?

Most spirits… didn’t care much for anything outside the resonance of the material world which birthed them. An innate instinct bound to their metaphysical biology. It was only attacking the more sapient of spirits that brought trouble. When they had their lessers to serve as their hands and ears and blades.

So who in her family had attacked a greater spirit?

One void spirit chimed quietly, buzzing around her head with a mournful song. They offered power and answers, with that distinct gunpowder and ozone scent of the eternal void.

“No, not yet. What I need is to learn how to shift. I’m… I’m a werewolf, a child of the Father-Wolf and the Moon. But I can’t shift, I’m… broken.”

It hurts.

The void spirit paused, and shifted ethereal gears in the lessons and secrets it had to teach.

We can teach you the way, the wholeness of self. Mind, Body, Soul.

“Why?” Althea asked as she sat down next to Reyna, who watched with a curious yet protective gaze.

Because it is what we are for. It is what needs to happen.

The garou nodded. “Then I’ll do exactly that. Thank you.”

The spirits swirled once more around the shaman, in a dance as old as time, as the song of the griffins filled the skies.