Seed 7

June 8th, 2032.

I flounced eagerly as I walked into Cruorpool. Stepping into the wall of wooden flesh that surrounded the core of the town, along with miles of farmland surrounding the compact settlement.

Today was the day I’d get to hang out with Althea in town this time. Having hung out with the blonde werewolf every day since we had met. I looked around, adjusting my outfit, fidgeting nervously as I looked for honey gold hair and pale golden eyes. It had taken some time to piece together a solid outfit, and—

I glanced over to a dwarf, colloquially at least. They looked different than one would expect from movies. Their form in color and texture lay along a stone-like spectrum, and were of a great density and hardness. They had a spectrum of sandstone, reds, pinks, golds, earthtones, grayscales and blacks, or even a display of marbling. They had large and robust hands, with flat claws at their ends and hairy bodies. Along with large eyes clearly built for catching light. Osteoderms acting as dermal armor, and a curl of their lips revealed thick robust teeth glinting finely like crystal.

Right, the dwarves are lithovores and integrate minerals into their biology.

I shook my head and took a deep breath. Then ound those locks of pale hair at the corner of my vision.

“Althea!” I called out to the witch with a grin. As she split from the rapidly thinning crowd with an equally wide toothless grin.

“Celia!” She had large strides, knees up as she met me halfway with a lopsided smile. She had the same outfit from when we first met, though her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. My heavy cloak went swoosh as I skipped. I briefly glanced at the stone brick road to land on individual bricks.

“Hey!” People jumped at my voice and I blushed. Volume control, girl!

Althea’s ears wiggled. A curious look painted over her face as I walked up to her. She almost went for a hug, paused when I leaned back, and instead went for lightly patting my forearm.

I didn’t hate touch, but I wasn’t used to it either. It felt uncomfortable if it was too sudden. My skin would itch, my stomach would flip and my mind would whirl into circles and loops. There were exceptions, of course, my parents, Ultima, adorable little Arali… I think I could make an exception for Althea.

When I was ready.

“Cool outfit, I'm guessing your Mentor gave it to you?” She said with clear happiness. Eyebrows lifting as she inspected my clothing.

I let my cloak swish as I pivoted back and forth on the balls of my feet. “Yes, she did, it's so soft and comfy, and it shields me against magic more effectively than before.” Blocking fireballs was rather convenient even if it would be a tad less effective at Ultima’s full power.

Then again at her peak, she could reduce a tank to molten slag so that was not saying much.

I kept pace with Althea as we walked around the grid-like structure of the modest town of around two thousand. I glanced at all the different peoples and species just living together freely.

They were known as the souled races, beings who had passed the threshold of sophoncy. There were the umano or wichelen, the generalized witch species, and their more distant cousins, the dwarves, the various kinds of lesser fey, the ogres, and goblins.

Oddfolk was an interesting colloquial grouping, the crossed people, one could say they were human-adjacent, witches who had intermixed with other species, whether through breeding, metaphysical bleed-over from living in certain areas, or people who had played Host to certain kinds of spirits.

Three groups existed overall, the Plainfolk, the Oddfolk, and the Firstfolk. Plainfolk were baseline witches and various ethnic groups, and Oddfolk were the races born from hybridization, mutation, and evolutionary pressures caused by magical environments and phenomena, with some overlap here and there.

The Firstfolk were those species that had been here before the umano, who didn't ever have ‘witch’ stock to start off with. Races like the dragons, the treants, the centaurs and the most ancient of manifested spirits, and many others.

I received a gentle poke from Althea, and my focus was returned to my werewolf friend rather than the array of thoughts in my own head. I glanced at her hands, large, calluses-on-top-of-calluses. Knuckles covered in a trace of grit and dirt, the radiating flex of claws almost hypnotizing. They seamlessly slid back in with a twitch of muscular fingers and I blinked.

“Your hands are cool, I want to know how they work.” I blurted that nonsense out loud. Althea squinted, clearly bemused by my dumb ass.

“Sure, why not? I guess it's not something your race has?” I shook my head at her question.

She offered a hand, keeping her claws under control and I grabbed it with a polite click of my tongue. I was utterly delighted by the little beans at the end of her fingertips. Gently kneading them, feeling knobbly bones at the edge of her fingers nudge forward as I teased her claws out.

Oh, she has extra bones in her fingers to house her retractable claws. Did it involve something like a hinging bone, like an internal version of a cat’s claws? Or did her claws telescope in and out from a hollow bone? That means at least twenty extra bones.

Each of her claws were over an inch and a half in length, and I ran my fingers along the blade of them, fascinated by the feature. Then my common sense came back to me and I let go with a blush. Althea just looked like she was going to laugh. I coughed.

“Umm, thanks, your claws are really cool.” I wonder how good they'd be at slicing through flesh? “Did we ever decide where we were going to go?”

Where did people actually hang out? Did they loiter around the streets, or go to the mall? Was I out of touch?

“I know a place.” Was all Althea said with a grin that pulled at her dimples.

Okay?

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I stared at the blacksmith shop. It was large, some two stories in height at least, and shaped like two intersecting rectangles. It had a hip and valley roof with two peaks. Multiple segmented windows letting in light to whatever rooms were within. Althea and I were at the entrance from one section, and I paid attention to the stone sidewalk encasing a round field of grass and small bushes. Which let me see the second section that held the forge, including a massive chimney right behind the forge.

“Oh, a blacksmith?” I hid my excitement, doing my best to play it cool, yes act cool, don't blow this, don't be a dork.

“I come here every so often to get replacement parts for more specialized tools,” Althea clarified with a subtle laugh. “The big shops tend to be owned by nobles, since they have more control of more modern techniques and access to more resources.”

“Hmm, so I'm guessing their tools involve using magic to augment hammers and anvils and chisels along with elemental magic?”

The werewolf blinked. “Don’t humans have those tools too?” She asked, head tilting.

“Well yes but… it could be considered somewhat outdated in some ways.” I imagine they had some level of serial production, but I had my doubts they had reached the heights of my world. “The advent of machine tools changed the game.”

Althea hummed in response right as we stepped into the blacksmith shop. My nose picked up the distant smell of something like charcoal but… not.

“What is that smell?” I asked, curious about it.

She replied easily. “I'm guessing they're using a magic power source with a strong affinity to the element of fire.”

“Interesting.” Enchantments tended to involve infusing magic into objects. Which could be done using cyfrin chains, objects rich in magical energy, or infusing magic into a substance able to be stored and manipulated.

“Oh, Miss Rookwood I see you've brought a friend over!” I jumped when a booming voice called out from the back of the store. Their walls lined with tools and weapons. I looked up, and up at the being manning the desk of the shop.

They… he was tall as hell, easily standing at eight feet and likely some three hundred forty pounds, with a stocky frame and… well-developed shoulders, chests, and arms covered in thick, cyan-green skin with stripes of lighter green around the forearms. He wore overalls, a white and black one embroidered with fine geometric patterns. He had gigantic tusks, with a gold ring around both of them.

“An ogre?” I blurted aloud and he grinned as he crossed his arms.

“Jotur to be more specific, but I'm guessing you were already figuring that out weren't you?” His voice was deep and rumbling, and I nodded instantly.

“There are three races of ogre, the jotur, the gigante, and the ogro.” I labeled the three groupings on my fingers. The jotur was the quintessential orc, but even more robust in build. Bearing huge fangs and keratinized spikes instead of beards. The gigante are more slender and built for a warmer environment. The ogro are even larger and bulkier, with elongated arms and massive claws.

All three were largely herbivorous, feasting on a range of plant life. While they could tolerate meat it wasn't a favorite. The ogres are considered one of the more technologically minded races, obsessed with developing radical new technologies and engineering miracles.

“You've done your research.” The ogre sounded pleased and oh god I said that aloud. “It seems the little mallow has brought someone learned to our humble abode.”

I blinked rapidly. “Our?” From the door to the forge came a fresh wave of hot air and the faint scent of charcoal and sulfur. Out came someone around my age, and I hummed cautiously.

He wasn't very tall, around my height, with skin like the sands of the desert, a strange pale pallor like death. Strangely long arms curling at odd angles, bending with impossible joints, with stripes like a hyena up and down his limbs, a faint smile revealing needle-like teeth, and pure white curly hair that wavered against a nonexistent wind. Round eyes reflected pure crimson, and I could see he was covered in soot and dirt.

Ghoul?

He perked up when I met his eyes, and I raised an eyebrow. He let out a soft sound that was oddly unsettling, waved at a confused Althea, grabbed something from a display, and retreated back into the forge.

“That would be Hakim, my son,” there was pride in his voice and I nodded as I watched Althea see right through everything, eyes slightly milky as she… saw something I couldn't quite imagine. “He's been helping me with the forge since he was small, and I've never seen anyone able to ignore his energy.”

“Sure? Not sure what you mean?” The blacksmith’s expression was one of befuddlement, amazement and concern? “Would it be alright to look at your forge? My Mentor says taking opportunities to observe all sorts of magic is vital when learning the Craft.”

The ogre shrugged. “I'll alloy it.”

I twitched at the pun, lips perking up.

He beamed a tusked smirk.

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My skin was warmed by the heat of the forge. My toes curled in pleasure at the warmth, muggy but not to the point of discomfort. It reminded me of Ultima, of her warmth and kindness, of Arali and his deep, thick, dense, warm feather coat. It reminds me of my mother when she used to make me hot cocoa, it reminded me of my father.

I sighed as I glanced over to Althea as she waved a hand through the air.

“Are you seeing spirits? What is that like for you?” I whispered carefully, gently bumping my hip against her with a casual grin. We had been chatting with each other for a while. Getting to know each other while lingering within the warm embrace of the forge.

Althea had two moms, Pamela and Harlynn, both werewolves. The former was some type of powerful plant witch while the latter was a Potioneer or Alchemist, either term was acceptable in the grand scheme of things. She went to a local magic school. One of many funded by the Chantry to funnel witches into their system.

Althea replied swiftly. “It's like seeing past a veil no one knows exists, the spirits linger everywhere. In every drop of water, every breeze, every spark of flame, in the beasts and plants around us. They waft around us in every shape and form, wisps of concepts and ideals, concrete and platonic, real and unreal.”

“It must be disorienting.” I said plainly, hoping not to offend her.

“It's a song and sight I've been hearing and seeing my entire life, and I always thought they were beautiful. They flow around you too, like they don't know what to make of you. The silver ones like you though.”

“Silver? You don't know what they are?” I leaned towards Althea. Trying to read her expression. I saw how those wide expressing pale gold orbs widened, how her wide lips pulled into a crooked smile. How her nose twitched back and forth.

“I've always had a good sense for what a spirit is, to see Form, to learn even their names. But the silver spirits are both rare and strange… walking paradoxes. But I know they’re powerful.”

Void.

“I might have some ideas, but not here,” I immediately clarified at her hungry look, the dark glint of desire in her eyes that made my stomach flip strangely. “Watching the forge is interesting, where I come from, we don't have many blacksmiths left. I know how to work with metal a bit, but it works differently from a big old forge.”

“It still holds your interest doesn’t it?” Althea said with a conspiratorial whisper, a giggle in her soft breathes, leaning over, gently brushing against me with the softest of touches.

What was I saying again?

I licked my lips, clasping my hands together, rolling my wrist and gently pulling at the joints of my fingers, bending and folding them together with a nervous energy as I spoke quietly with my friend.

We were friends right? It wasn’t wishful thinking on my part was it?

“Celia? You okay?” Althea showed naked concern on her face so I nodded.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts a bit.” I rubbed at my face, and blinked.

“I get lost in my thoughts too sometimes!” A pale face was thrust into my field of vision, and I jumped.

Oh, it was Hakim.

“Maybe, don't get in my face like that?” I demanded… I mean asked him, and he let out a soft apologetic whine.

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

Hakim nodded. “Sorry, I was supposed to work on the forge for a blade I'm working on to practice for when I create my magic focus. Finding a familiar is going to take a while…” He was folding his hands together, claws gently clicking against each other in a rhythmic motion. “Sorry if I bothered you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re fine, you're more like an excitable puppy than an annoying bug. Just like Althea is a beefcake who could talk a door into submission.” She had locked her parents in a bathroom once when she accidentally talked a doorway spirit into keeping itself shut.

Althea smirked. “You think I'm a beefcake?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” I immediately denied my words. “Anyway your forge is cool and all Hakim… but I think it's time for us to go.”

“It's hot though?” Hakim said with a serious tone. Fair enough. “And are you sure?”

To my surprise, Althea spoke up. “We can hang out later, there's a spot I like to visit… and I wouldn't mind an extra guest.”

I turned, and found Althea watching me with a pleading expression. I gave her a thumbs up that she thankfully understood from explaining it to her on the g-speaker.

Hakim vibrated in happiness.

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Our new friend was strangely charming for a member of the undead. Though they were closer to the disciples of spirits of death, at some point in the past, witches had crossed with spirits of death, sand, and metamorphosis and had become an entire race unto themselves.

Hakim was just kind of endearing though. A abrador of a boy with a hyperfixation on technology and engineering that rivaled my own psychotic fixation on the Craft. So as promised we invited him to hang out with us in a spot right outside the city. A pond surrounded by a cluster of small hills, holding many strange fish with pearlescent scales in bright colors.

“So you said you’re a tinkerer of sorts, you work with Maker magic? You focus on magical items, item enchantment, collection, certain sympathetic practices?” I bounced from foot to foot as I stepped between the two witches. One ghoul, the other werewolf.

“I’ve been learning how to work with all sorts of material since I was a tiny witchling from bone to metal and leather,” he hummed absently, flitting about like a butterfly, attention shifting easily. “So I’ve gotten good at imbuing objects with magical properties, it’s one of my greatest skills, even if people don’t like accepting my ideas.”

I straightened up at the hint of resentment. Something sad and so very alone in his tone, making my heart clench in sympathy. “What kind of ideas?” I asked, interested in what this little ghoul was doing.

“I’ve been trying to convince people that drawing on the energies of nature to forge magic into materials, along with cyfrinic chains are a good way to create new kinds of better and more refined tools… with some ingenuity.” Hakim was flapping his hands, pointed teeth glinting in an unsettling smile.

“Can you give examples?” I was curious, wanting to see what he could come up with. Althea had a similar look, her attention caught by his tone.

“I’ve been thinking of how we can advance metalworking technology,” he summoned up weak flames, playing around with the element in his hands. “We can smelt iron and forge steel using fire spells. Steel has become a rather common metal. It’s hard to weld some modern alloys though so I thought… why not look for a new method?”

“They didn’t take you seriously?” I had a feeling I knew where this was going, and I sympathized.

“No. They said that it was wrong, that this wasn’t how magic should be done, not by the will of the Pale King.”

Wow.

“Well, they’re definitely missing out, just the applications of lightning alone for arc welding would be a boon.”

“Arc welding?” Althea asked with a blink, and I swore I saw stars in Hakim’s eyes.

“It’s a welding process to join metal by using electricity to locally heat metal and bind them when they cool. That electricity, that controlled lightning jumps between the two metals and fuses them.”

“Electricity, I've heard that before in human books,” Hakim pointed out and I paled at the mistake. “But most of those books are incomplete, or involve knowledge we just don't have.”

Hakim leaned forward, nose twitching and strange scarlet eyes honing in on my face. Realization surged across his face, and I blanched.

“Are you… human?” To my surprise he didn't scream it to the heavens, it was a solid whisper and my shoulders slacked at his nonchalant reaction.

“I-I-I… am really bad at this aren't I?” I batted my eyelashes at Althea for support and was rebuffed tragically.

“You brought this on yourself, I don't know Hakim well but he's observant and you're kind of… not good at pretending to be anything you're not.” She tutted at me, wagging a finger and I stuck my tongue out in protest.

“Shut up!”

Althea giggled. “No, I don't think I will.”

“Fine, yes I'm a human, happy?’” My tone was caustic and Hakim looked wearily. “Don’t get cold feet now, whoever is treating your ideas like shit has way more to worry about.” I cracked my knuckles, someone shouldn't look that lonely, they shouldn't. “Though that does make me want to ask, if Hakim works with Making, what do you fall under Althea?”

“Correspondence, they deal with connections, misdirection, and interpersonal interactions. It's one of the more… ephemeral branches of magic, and it's one of the branches of the Craft that have gotten a tighter leash over the years.”

“Must be hard,” Ultima had filled in some of the pieces for me, shamanism was considered lawless magic by the Chantry, spirits were meant to be controlled and demanded of, witches were the Children of the Titan, their souls greater and grander. “Not being able to use the magic you're born with to the fullest of your ability.”

“So humans can also do magic?” Hakim changed the subject, pulling us away from a darker and sadder turn.

I pulled out a piece of paper, and swept my hand along the sifra glyph. A surge of void following the motions of my arm. I shaped the energies with my mind. The sheet of crumpled paper was shot off like a cannon with a simple push spell.

“Humans have no inherent magical ability, but I figured out a way, and my Mentor is pretty amazing too.” She was patient as a teacher, letting me work it out in my own time, and getting me all the information I needed to learn and grow.

I was starting to think I was starved for attention if my first reaction to friendly people my age was blurting out all my secrets. But I knew they were kind, knew they were safe.

“That’s incredible, I've never seen magic cast like that before. Is it related to cyfrinic chains or other forms of textual magic? Most item crafting focuses on sealing certain kinds of spirits, or weaving and soaking their energies deep within an item, forming a pattern of magic inside a tool. Textual magic like cyfrins of runes makes this process far easier, the weave and pattern of magical energy is shaped into the right structure, can these symbols do the same thing—”

“Do you need to breathe?” I couldn't help but ask. “I don't want to be responsible for accidentally killing a fellow nerd.”

“I'm fine, ghouls are tough.” He slammed his fist into his chest and wheezed, and I raised a brow.

Althea and I laughed lightly but then… that moment of levity was shattered by a sudden pulse of something in the air.

Power crushed like a fiery vise, threatening to burn us all to ashes. Like a firestorm beckoning us towards itself, to join it, to let it carry our burdens.

Stop. Deny.

Somehow I bolstered myself against that flaming tide. Surrounding myself in the vacuum between that fire, until it was cast down, until it was negated and pushed away from my soul and their souls.

In a blink, we were no longer alone as something shot down from the sky. Landing and scattering dust and scattered cuttings of grass. The silhouette was big, easily half a foot taller than Ultima, and I could see the outline of a tail and wings?

What the hell am I looking at?

The dust parted, and I was drawn in by the appearance of the intruder.

Oh, she’s really pretty.

She was… a wapuk, a member of the dragonfolk, and I couldn’t help but stare like an idiot.

The dragoness was tall, about six and half feet at a glance and she was strange. Almost alien, a cross between reptilian and mammalian features. She was bipedal, standing on long curvy, muscular legs. Covered in fine midnight blue scales so dark they bordered on black. She walked on her toes. Three of them ending in thick long claws, with a fourth claw at the end of her foot.

Her thighs were mostly exposed aside from the concealing flare of a maroon skirted tunic. A black cloth girdle tied around her thin and aerodynamic waist and belly. I saw a lot of boob with her low cut tunic along with the gold that made up the v-shaped collar of her top. She was rolling her wrists, knuckles popping as she displayed five curling claws like a tiger, golden bands tightly wrapped around her wrists. She had a thin membrane, folded back tightly against her muscular arms…

I coughed.

My eyes went higher, her torso scales and skin were a shade of rojo-púrpura, a vivid purplish red that stopped at her collar. I also inspected a gray cloth choker outlined with gold. Her less human features became more evident, a slightly elongated round face covered in scales. Her lips curled back to reveal huge fangs, with a sloping nose between eyes of black with pupils of dark gold.

She had a head of luxurious faded lavender hair. Plus two pairs of dark conic horns, one larger from the top of her head, the other smaller from around her ears. Her midnight blue and purple wings opened up from her back, reminding me more of fingerless pterosaur wings. Her six foot long tail swung back and forth, with a vane of tail feathers folding in and out.

Oh, oh no.

“Are you the rumored Apprentice of Ultima the Wandering Abyss?” Her voice was striking and sharp, smoky, almost seductive. She crossed her chest under her bust, pupils telescoping with a predatory gaze. Hakim and Althea had both paled, ears pinning back in fear, their presence shrinking with their poses and their magic pulling back tightly.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that,” I said honestly and bluntly to the dragoness. “Also you’re a stranger so could you please go away?” Her being pretty didn’t change a thing.

Both of the witches were staring at me like I was insane. Had I done some type of cultural faux paus?

She blinked. “My name is Dinah Frazoiyo.” Was all she offered and I tilted my head, where had I heard that name before. Fire-sight? Pyromancer?

“Doesn't ring a bell, sorry. I’m still researching this taifa.” I replied honestly and she looked positively astounded. “Been mostly focused on technology and local instances of magic.”

Dinah pinched the bridge of her nose, foot claws spearing into the soil as she sighed. “Are you or are you not the Apprentice of one of the most powerful witches in the Isles?”

“Why would you want to know?” I retorted, hoping she would leave. It was good to lie to yourself sometimes.

“Because my mission is to bring the Apprentice of Ultima Grimshaw before the King and Queen of Caudalaan.” Her smile became predatory, fangs and tongue sticking out to taste the air. “So are you going to continue avoiding my questions, because I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“And if I say I am and don’t want to go?” I whined and I could see both Althea and Hakim shaking their heads.

I blinked and she was suddenly looming over me. A clawed hand crushing my shoulder, as she hunched over head to see eye to eye with me. She smiled and I let out a quiet sound.

Her left palm lit up with a bright blue-white weave of fire. “I would suggest you don’t do that.” I flinched as her grip tightened, and my eyes were caught by the fireball, as it danced and spun and twisted and I saw— circles of flame and life, three lines slashing through the south.

I pulled out of her grip, and her flame grew in size and I… no, no, no, get away; get away, leave me alone, please!

I pulled out two glyph talismans, blood rushing in my ear, a buzzing between my teeth and inside my chest. With a sweep of my finger I reached for the void, and it dove right into my screaming heart.

I swept the void into a line of kinetic force, and Dinah let out a chirping screech as it hurled her back, slicing through her cheek. I cast a second glyph into a pure kinetic push that threw her back half a dozen meters.

…

Fuck.

“I-I-I-I. Please don’t be dead, I am so sorry—”

Dinah exploded into fire with a scream of rage and I was swiftly swept off of my feet by Althea.

“Nope! You just pissed off the Princess of Caudalaan, it’s time to go and hope she’ll cool down later!” The werewolf let out a soft whine.

The blood drained from my face “She… what?” Oh Ultima was going to kill me.

“No time to fix accidentally assaulting a princess!” Hakim said and I didn’t get the chance to respond.

Althea picked me up and I let out a high pitched squeal as she pitched me over her left shoulder while she did the same on her right with Hakim.

Dinah was launching towards us like a missile, wreathed in bright flames of gold and violet and green.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Was all I said with despair.

And we dove into the pond which rippled and shifted and twisted around us, and for a moment I saw a flurry of impossible shapes and colors out of space before falling upwards and out of the water and onto another shore that wasn’t the pond we just came out of.

The three of us fell apart and collapsed onto the shore, a moment of silence allowed between us.

…

“I’m so sorry. You must all hate me.” I closed my eyes waiting for their admonishment. Althea helped me into a sitting position, digested my words and laughed.

“Oh no, you’re not losing me that easily,” Althea chuckled. “Dinah, despite appearances, can be quite forgiving if given the time to cool her temper. If she was given the task of bringing you to the king, then it’s definitely not a case of wanting to hunt you down, she’s just not very good with people.”

“So I don’t have to worry about being chased down by a pretty dragon lady?”

Hakim gave me a pitying look. “Oh no she’s definitely going to hunt you down now, she’s got a pretty strong prey drive and you bested her. Luckily for you she prefers the chase and grab-bite versus a kill-bite.”

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

And yet this was still one of my better days.

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Her name was Dinah Frazoiyo and she was completely and utterly filled with unbridled rage. That witch… that human had utterly humiliated her with her magic. Had sent her flying despite being a tiny chubby little thing who didn’t look like she could hurt a fly.

She was a princess, raised by her mother and father. King Ladon, and his wife Fortuna of Caudalann. A taifa with a history going back hundreds of years, and a people ten times older than that.

And I was utterly made a fool of by complete accident, by a human!

Her inner fire flared within her gut. Her newly arrived guards tensed as she pulled at them with her anger and indignation. She released her grip, shifted her energies to put out the invisible heat surrounding her. She was a princess of fire, it was baked into her blood and bones and claws and fangs, child of the dragons, of loyalty, passion, and drive. She was…

Furious. Outraged beyond bearing, a bonfire burning her heart out, everything flowing out of her grasp, how dare anything so small derail her plans, her goals, her mission for her people. Mine, mine, mine.

A soul-shaking rage, claws aching to strike and strike until the flesh was rendered from bone, to reduce her enemies to ashes, her fangs flicking out, wanting to sink them into the neck of her rightful prey.

Dinah sighed, a loud yawning growl flying free from her throat. She gripped her midnight blue neck, fingers carefully counting the smooth scales that covered her entire body. “I seem to have made a mistake with my violent approach.”

One of her guards snorted, and she glared at him, he paled slightly but didn't apologize. “You are a wapuk, princess, and the human appears to have been rather flighty when you demanded her to meet with your esteemed mother and father.”

“You are not wrong, I took the wrong approach and paid the price for my hubris. At the least I know the human has no malicious intentions, even when afraid for her life her restraint was… admirable.”

She felt a warm sting along her left cheek, and lifted a hand to block the bleeding cut, and bent her fire into it, gently weaving and knotting her energies to seal the wound. She had never seen magic like that before, much less by a human.

It was so cold, and she saw the eyes of that human, darker than dark, blacker than black, a strange lensing of space and light shifting towards the deepest of blues and violets, the whisper at the edge of her mind of something old and lost and forgotten.

Celia… Celia was interesting, she could say that much.

“What about those two witches with her? Should we search for them?” Another guard spoke up and she shook her head.

“No, they're my people and were clearly admonishing the human for her actions while they were fleeing. But it does make this hunt of mine… intriguing.”

Her guards shivered, and her face pulled into a toothy grin.

Her father had done his best in teaching her how to bring prey back alive after all.