In the Great Forest, there resides a tribe of fairies whose wishes have been expended. These fairies, longing for the rights taken away from them by their choice to live at the expense of their wish, following a prophetic description of a fertility goddess said to be able to heal their sacrificed ability to bear children, found Maerin, who allegedly matches the goddess’s appearance. And, the apparent method to awaken the goddess’s power is to sacrifice Maerin to a creature the Zaereens call the Neekimuugorr.

Though the tribe is not outright hostile to Murtoa, they are not particularly friendly towards him since he demanded Maerin be returned to him. However, he was able to negotiate a truce; so long as he and the fairy Lykha -currently possessed by Schieranna the wind spirit- face the Neekimuugorr in Maerin’s place.

The Zaereens -the wishless fairies- carry a relatively large palankine like a parade float, upon which a sort of play is being acted out while Maerin sits in the center on a throne. They’ve finally removed the gag from her mouth, and she shouts at Murtoa as he walks alongside with Schieranna sitting on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you just grab me and go!? Why don’t you!?”

“They would fight.”

“SO!? Are you afraid of splinters or something!? Is the great and mighty knight, Mur-...”

“Don’t. Here.” He provides a small flask to Maerin, and she grumbles, taking a drink. Thankfully, none of the Zaereens noticed the handoff in spite of his size, as they acknowledge that Murtoa is playing along for now, so it’s best not to pick a fight with him any more than it is for him to pick a fight with them. Maerin growls, “You’re a sweetheart, Murmur.”

He scoffs, retorting, “I haven’t won yet.”

“Yeah, well, you never forget a lady’s needs, at least.”

“Any idea what this thing is?”

“No. I’d have believed they didn’t speak common. I’ve forgotten almost all of the old Fae.”

“Are they speaking Fae?”

“No. It’s a language I’ve never heard before.”

One of the maidens says from the ground where she’s carrying the palankine, “Zaereen tribe old. Many season.”

Another Zaereen states sourly, “Many human face Neekimuugorr. Only few succeed. None worthy of Zaereen.”

Schieranna retorts, “How does that make sense? They beat your bogeyman, and they still aren’t good enough?”

Murtoa states to his shoulder where she’s sitting, “They couldn’t solve the fertility problem.”

Schieranna asks, “Do you have a plan for that, Murmur? Last I checked, Lykha’s not too keen on spending her wish, and I don’t think it would work.”

“I suspect it would. Prisoner’s dilemma, though.”

The spirit cocks her eyebrow, and he clarifies, “‘If I wish everyone else better, who will wish me better?’”

“That’s not a prisoner’s dilemma.”

“Alright. Fairy’s dilemma, then.”

“Fair enough.”

“It’s also not Lykha’s responsibility to heal the Zaereens.” Mury glances at Coco, who is keeping her distance while following the procession, nodding at him. He shakes his head, and some of the Zaereens are walking backwards as they watch the teen techromancer. They’re not aggressive, in spite of their misfortune, which is good. It further solidifies Mury’s desire to leave with the least amount of bloodshed as possible.

Of course, the amount of blood he is to spill will likely surpass all of the bloodshed in the Zaereens since their founding, combined.

The Zaereens take the three to an even larger village in the forest, formed in the structure of the fossilized branches of the same hollowed out ancient tree. Though more of the larger village is exposed to the open forest, totems and torches are stationed around the perimeter, and the three find a surprising sight.

While the human warriors of the past may have failed, they apparently weren’t necessarily executed. There are human and drakyk children, a ‘demon’ boy, similar to Coco, humans of varying ages, including a few elders, and dozens more fairies without magic.

The chieftain boisterously presents the challengers and the ‘goddess’, explaining it in the Zaereen language. The other villagers seem to understand, cheering.

The three outsiders find that the villagers also speak common, and most of them are lost wanderers, orphans, and fairies abandoned by the Fae villages when their wishes were expended. There is even a tech pirate long ago separated from his crew, who headed south into the desert after they captured a fairy. Since then, though, he’s become a respected member of the tribe and one of their wisest architects.

Mury and Schieranna are taken to a ceremonial hut, and the chieftain explains, “Human and fairy leave all outside sins in hut and face Neekimuugorr with sacred blade!” She points at Schieranna, adding darkly, “You great sinner. No magic, or we kill young human!”

Schieranna tenses. The chieftain can only mean Coco. She nods, “I won’t, I won’t. No magic. Got it. D-Do I get a spear or something?”

The chieftain nods, and she says to the maidens in the hut, “Vinn ninni hobor.”

The maidens bow, approaching the two. One of them says to Murtoa, “Remove all outsider tools.”

Murtoa sighs. “Got it.” He begins stripping down, while another maiden presents a robe to Schieranna. “Change.”

Schieranna takes the robe, stripping down without warning.

What are you doing!? What if he sees you!?

Schieranna pauses, feeling her heart race suddenly. She smiles, dropping Lykha’s dress to her feet. She asks Mury, “Mury, do you think we can win?”

He glances at her for only a moment, but looks away immediately. Though he doesn’t acknowledge, he replies, “If we keep our heads, we can figure something out.”

Schieranna! Please! Don’t!

The spirit smirks. However, Murtoa interrupts her next attempt by asking, “Have you decided, Lykha?”

He’s using her name because they’re surrounded by mixed company as the Zaereens take Mury’s gear -what they can carry- and place it in a corner… with a ton of other adventurer gear and weapons.

Schieranna replies to Mury, “Do you trust me, Murmur?”

“Well enough.”

“She insists I stay, then, since she can still talk to me.”

One of the maidens states, “No magic.”

“No! Of course, no magic. It’s not magic. It’s… uh… my imaginary friend. I talk to her. Sometimes she talks back.”

Another maiden remarks, “Sound crazy.”

Murtoa remarks dryly, “We tell her that constantly…”

“Hey!”

The maidens snicker, and they help Schieranna put the elegant robe-like dress on, with long sleeves, a large bow that snugs the dress to her body and makes a big bow behind her back under her wings, and with the tails trailing down low behind her legs. The dress is patterned with elegant patterns and thread colors, and Schieranna admires herself as Murtoa is provided a much more simple waist-wrap that leaves his torso and legs exposed. He argues with the maidens about his helmet, and they retreat to ask the chieftain.

Schieranna asks softly, “You don’t like showing your face to anyone, huh?”

“It’s nothing personal. I’m attached to my helmet.”

“Literally?”

Mury chuckles, “No. Sentimental. A dear friend made the first one for me. Told me to never take it off in danger.”

The spirit nods respectfully, “I see… Even if crazy forest fairies are demanding you take it off?”

“Especially then.”

The chieftain enters, studying the human. “You remove outsider sins.”

“My helmet is not a sin. If you want it to be easy for this Neekimuugorr to kill me, then I doubt my simple bucket will make a difference.”

The chieftain stares at him, and Schieranna offers, “He doesn’t like to advertise it, but his goddess requires he wear it. Like your ceremonial mask.”

The chieftain looks at the spirit, and then the human warrior. He says nothing, but she replies, “You worship two goddess, I allow.”

Murtoa replies sincerely, “My heart is big enough for two goddesses, if both grace me with each others’ blessings.”

The chieftain climbs up on the small stage in the room, and she taps her spear. He kneels down in front of her, and she studies the cracked visor of the helmet. “Your goddess kind?”

Mury nods. “Yes.”

“Very well. We add Uiellatruu’s blessing, yes?”

He nods. “I’d be honored.”

She nods and waves the maidens over. They quickly climb the stage with their ceremonial paints, painting the symbols they wanted to paint on his skin onto his helmet, while others paint his body. The chieftain states, “Human fight with honor, and maybe Uiellatruu deem worthy.”

“I will give it everything I have.”

Schieranna steps up beside him, stating proudly, “Me too.”

The chieftain grunts at the apparent fairy, turning away from her without a further response. The chieftain speaks briefly in the Zaereen language, and one of the maidens jogs out. The chieftain follows calmly, and Schieranna remarks, “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Just keep being polite. We’ll be done shortly.”

“We’re about to fight a colossus, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know. Could be a volcano or a dragon.”

Tell him I can hear him. And to stop it. It’s not funny. I know it’s not a dragon. Tell him to ask them if it’s a dragon. Seriously, he’s not funny. Make sure it’s not a dragon. I can’t help you if it’s a…

The spirit says warmly to Murtoa, “She’s not happy…”

He chuckles. “It’s not a dragon.”

How does he know? Is he sure?

Before Schieranna can say anything else, he states, “I’m sure.”

The spirit blushes, surprised that he can read someone else’s mind without even being able to see them. But then, it’s clear that Lykha and Murtoa are particularly close.

Soon enough, after the preparations are complete, a maiden comes in, saying, “Come. It is time.”

Murtoa, who had taken a seat to wait, stands up once Schieranna lifts into the air from sitting on his thigh. They follow the maiden, and the crowd bursts into cheering as they exit the hut.

The chieftain continues whatever speech she was giving at the top of her lungs in the Zaereen language, and the maiden translates.

“Many season! Goddess Uiellatruu grant great blessing of life and harvest while seek worthy one to end terrible curse! Uiellatruu merciful mother of all, and in mercy grant hope! With Neekimuugorr, spawned of the earth, we offer brave warriors for rite of Goddess Moon!”

Schieranna whispers to Murtoa, “Any new ideas of what we’re up against?”

“Not yet.”

“One thousand Neekimuugorr defeated, but none truly worthy of mother found! But lose not hope, for we live, and we fight for hope!”

The crowd of tribal warriors cheer.

Schieranna asks, “Wait… They’ve killed this thing a thousand times already!?”

“This warrior choose rite of Goddess Moon! And by right, shall carry sacred sword Zaermaa into battle!”

Schieranna grumbles. “I knew it. We’re fighting a monster.”

A whistle draws their attention briefly, but doesn’t seem to interrupt the chieftain. The two glance at Coco, who seems to be okay. She’s asking through gestures what she should do. Murtoa waves her off subtly to just wait, and she nods. He gestures for her to watch over Maerin, and she looks at the mature fairy to ensure she knows where Maerin is.

The chieftain continues, and the maiden translating fills in the two outsiders, “Honor of Zaermaa go to human rite-seeker, but honor of facing Neekimuugorr open to all! Whoever slay earn right to trial of one thousand nights!”

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Schieranna, a little perturbed that the chieftain is pretending she doesn’t exist, asks facetiously, though still at a whisper, “Hear that, Murmur? If you win, you get a chance at every girl here, apparently. Several, if my math serves.”

“I think it’s a Coratodra.”

“A Coratodra?” asks the spirit.

“It’s a kind of colossus mythicised into the ancient hydras. Cut off one head, two more take its place.”

“THE hydra was a dragon,” corrects the spirit.

Murtoa nods, kneeling as they approach him with a fairly standard-looking longsword. He replies to Schieranna, “Yes. And this is not a dragon.”

The maiden translates the chieftain’s continued monologue, “Come all who face Neekimuugorr! Human warrior accept Zaermaa!”

Murtoa takes the sword when the maidens holding it nod at him. He says softly to them, “Thank you.” He rises, holding the sword like a ready hero.

“Wait…” starts Schieranna. “If this monster regrows heads… They’ve been chopping its head off for centuries.”

“Yep.”

The chieftain shouts, “BEGIN THE SONG OF ZAERMAA!”

The tribe cheers, and the drummers begin pounding drums with their heels. The deep bass booms into Schieranna’s soul, and she feels a noticeable rush from the music.

However, she hasn’t lost her thought. “That means this thing has thousands of heads…”

“That’s probably an exaggeration. The heads cannibalize if they become unwieldy.”

“Still…”

“We’ll address it if we can.”

Several Zaereens, a young human, and a young drakyk present themselves, handed spears and a sword made of a large jawbone with triangular teeth on it.

The ceremony guides them up a path lit with torches, and there are drums the entire way. They ascend a hill, where a cave descends into the ground. The drums pound continuously, and the chieftain stops on a stage before the hill. “GO, NOBLE RITE-SEEKERS, AND FACE THE NEEKIMUUGORR!”

The tribe-members challenging shove each other to rush the hill. The drakyk slams Murtoa briefly, snatching the sword Zaermaa from him and leaving behind the spear he was given. Schieranna cries out, “HEY!” HEY! Lykha is just as angry. The spirit looks at the chieftain, “I thought this was a battle of honor!”

Murtoa picks the spear up, saying calmly, “It doesn’t matter.” He walks to the side as a roar comes out of the cave. The drum pace picks up, and the warriors at the cave mouth roar in return.

Schieranna hovers to him, asking, “How is this okay!? The sword was supposed to be yours!”

“It’s nothing special. The charm on it is for sharpness. It’ll never dull. That’s it.”

“Wh-... They said it’s the only thing that can sever the head in one shot, didn’t they?”

“The song says so. It’s just a sword.” Murtoa picks up one of the torches forming the perimeter, walking up the hill. Schieranna follows him.

A reptilian head springs out of the cave mouth, roaring in anger. Instantly, the warriors attack. Spear-wielders try to jab for its eyes, while the two sword wielders try to go for the instant killing blow.

Murtoa states bluntly, obviously directed at Lykha, “It’s not a dragon. Actually the drums are ironic. They’re probably keeping it drowsy without knowing it.”

“Come again?” asks the spirit.

“They like seismic activity. It’s regularly fed without effort, and listens to its favorite sound.”

The chieftain bellows, “NEEKIMUUGORR, CHILD OF THE EARTH! ACCEPT OUR OFFERING AND LAY YOUR JUDGMENT UPON THEM!”

The warriors from the tribe roar, but one of the fairies is instantly swallowed in one bite. The monster; a reptilian head with a sort of fish-like expression with a broad underbite jaw, could easily swallow a human or drakyk just as easily. Murtoa says to Schieranna, “Don’t get eaten. If you do, make it burp.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?”

“Yes. It disorients them.”

The human teen warrior is slammed by the head swatting, and he smacks into the cave and tumbles to the ground; unconscious instantly if not dead outright.

Murtoa studies his enemy, approaching slowly and calmly as another of the fairies tries to spear the eye. Again, her hit is missed, and the coratodra dislodges the spear from her hands.

The drakyk with Zaermaa slashes the neck, but the beast survives the blow and recoils, snarling at him. He roars at it, but instead of trying to eat him, it slams its chin down on him, catching him off guard.

Schieranna gasps. She’s no stranger to deaths of all kinds. She’s timeless relative to the world. However, she doesn’t have to enjoy it now. She asks Murtoa, “What do I do?”

“Patience. I need to wait for the right time.”

Another fairy is swallowed, and Lykha’s voice cries out to Schieranna, They’re being eaten!

“She’s worried about the others!”

“I know. It’ll slow down once they relent.”

Two of the remaining three fairies retreat, crying as they flee the battle. Murtoa catches one of their spears with his hand as they run past him, and he hands it to Schieranna, “Hold this.”

“O-Okay.” She trusts him. He is calm, even as the battle descended instantly to chaos, and only one fairy remains. She tries to roar at the coratodra with her spear ready and tears in her eyes, and it looks at her. It was distracted nursing its wound, which is mostly healed already. It snarls at the remaining fairy, and Murtoa steps into a sprint.

The human warrior swats the fairy out of the way, tossing the torch in the same motion as he dives past. The head slams by, swallowing the torch by momentum alone.

Schieranna flies down to the fairy to check on her briefly, and she’s dazed, lying on the ground.

However, the monster roars a new roar; one of obvious agony as the head rears high into the air. The coratodra is all but screaming. It tries to slam its head to the ground, unable to stop the internal burning as the torch continues to burn. It twists and writhes, unable to relieve itself of the pain.

As Schieranna kneels next to the Zaereen trying to recover her senses, a sudden rumble passes through her knees. A sinking feeling fills the spirit’s stomach -a sensation she’s never felt-.

You need to move! Take her quickly! Please!

Schieranna looks at the spear she was charged with holding, and she hesitates. It’s a pointy stick!

The spirit realizes Lykha is right, and she tosses the spear aside, as well as her own. She takes the fairy by the shoulders, carrying her away from the cave mouth.

Murtoa throws his spear with a graceful posture and follow-through, and the spear finds its mark under the coratodra’s chin, and it howls again. The human warrior jogs to the bone-sword, kicking it up into his hands. He seems to be waiting, and the rumbling passes through the ground again. It feels like the origin is massive, extending well beyond the perimeter of torches posted around the cave mouth.

He won’t ask for help. You have to be ready to help him however you can.

Schieranna nods, though only she can hear Lykha.

Neither of them could ever be truly prepared for what comes next, in spite of Mury being the only one still near the cave mouth.

The ENTIRE hilltop explodes, as if a volcano is rupturing the ground. The Zaereens scream in terror as the cave is ripped apart, extending well beyond the perimeters. Schieranna is able to keep the fairy alive, and she glances around briefly. She’s not an honorable warrior. She’s a spirit. They already hate her because they think she’s a normal fairy -privileged in their eyes-. So, she doesn’t feel bad about being sneaky. She summons wind to intercept the largest pieces, deflecting them off course so they don’t crush the entire village. She finds Murtoa flying upwards amidst the dust and debris, and he slashes the bone-sword’s tooth edge onto one of the heads.

Heads.

Dozens… hundreds of heads swirl and coil like a forest of chaos, each capped with an angry and shrieking mouth full of teeth.

And, Murtoa wasn’t slashing one for a killing blow, he was hooking it with the teeth to keep his height. He kicks off of its chin, swinging himself up onto the head with a feat of acrobatics and strength, the sight of which momentarily takes away Schieranna’s breath.

Schieranna listens to the chaos around her. The whole of the Zaereens are fleeing, screaming in panic. It’s clear they had no idea -no concept whatsoever- of what the creature truly was that they were all but keeping as a pet. They fed it, they empowered its natural ability, and they’ve been playing it a lullaby for its entire life. It’s quite possibly the most well-treated colossus in history.

Murtoa, fearing not the monster he’s facing nor the height at which he is leaping, dives from one head to another as a third tries to snatch him from the first. He doesn’t try to chop their heads off. He’s working his way in towards the body.

The forest of angry life, however, is like a coral, which makes sense to her now. Its heads swing around, aggravated by the pain within its body from Mury’s torch, aggravated by the other heads crowding it, and aggravated by being fully awakened.

Mury drops from a survivable height with the sword speared downwards, slamming it into the back of the monster. Its cumulative heads scream in pain together, and Schieranna has to cover her ears briefly.

Mury nimbly vaults, climbs, and weaves through the necks to escape the body as several try to reach him and the sword. One of the heads grabs the sword, yanking it out, but the teeth tear flesh with the blade, and the monster howls once more, a full chorus of monster screams.

Murtoa sprints across the ground towards the iron sword, and Schieranna murmurs, “I could make it burp… That disorients it, right?”

He said so. But… Um… I have an idea, but I probably wouldn’t be brave enough myself.

“Let me hear it.”

He killed the very first monster we fought from inside. He entered its mouth and worked his way to its heart.

“Okay… Heart… Will I be able to reach its heart?”

I don’t know… But, unless you want to upset the Zaereens…

“Inside it… I can use all the magic I want…”

They technically won’t know… And you already cheated anyways.

Schieranna smirks. “Hey, I’m a spirit. I do what I want.”

I respect and admire that you want to help.

Schieranna blushes. She takes a breath, looking for the spears. They landed a little ways away, but are still fairly close to each other. Or, at least, she’s able to find a couple of the fairy-sized spears.

Schieranna darts towards the spears, and Murtoa slashes one of the heads back with the iron sword named Zaermaa. Schieranna kneels at the second of the two spears for a moment, saying, “If you want to object, now’s the time to object.”

I’ll always want to help Mury. Always.

The spirit smiles and nods. She zips into the air carrying the spears, keeping them close to her body to stay streamlined. She’s not sure how much damage she’ll be able to do to the monster from the inside, but it’s the one place she can easily enter that makes it unable to fight back against her.

Schieranna keeps her gaze moving, avoiding several attacks she’s not ready for. Not all of the heads will open their mouths to attack, and all of them seem to be able to think completely independently of the others. Fortunately, the creature is humongous, and she is tiny. Its attention is mostly focused on the human warrior who deftly chops one of the monster’s heads clean off with a blow, followed by a second one after he lunges out of the way.

Schieranna jokes, “Well, we win, right? He chopped off its head.”

Very funny.

“Bogglesly!” She glances at the source of the voice to find Coco with a sort of ranged weapon, firing it from a hiding spot in one of the tree’s roots. She ducks immediately after, and Lykha screams, CLOSE YOUR EYES! MY EYES! NOW!

Schieranna does as instructed, and she can tell why. A vicious flash threatens to blind her even through her eyelids, and the creature howls.

Grinning, Schieranna makes a mental note to thank Coco. She darts into the air, flying deftly into the mouth of one of the largest heads as it roars. The throat is not as easy of a descent as she thought, as it closes in around her with fleshy walls, but she keeps the spearpoints down and away to prevent them from sticking, and she squirms lower.

She drops into a larger void with more room and a pool on the floor, and she instantly gags from the smell, casting the contents of her own stomach into that of the monster.

Sorry… I guess my body is still my body at the end of the day…

“Ugh… Mortals have it rough…”

“HELP! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! SOMEBODY! I WANT MY MOMMY! PLEASE!”

Desperate cries find Schieranna’s ears, and she looks around. It’s obviously dark and hazy, inside, and there’s no magic to sense. But she can hear the voices. She follows the splashing and crying, finding one of the Zaereens as she desperately tries to keep her head above the liquid.

There isn’t anything in view that is floating in the pool, and she has no idea how deep it is. Plus, it’s obviously stomach acid, which means she shouldn’t choose to remain long.

However, she looks at the two spears in her hands. She can barely see them in the darkness, but they’re still both firmly in her hands. They’re great for poking things, and their barbed heads are great for lodging into flesh and being difficult to withdraw. Schieranna is thankful spears have been around since her days of freedom.

She darts to the closest wall of the stomach carefully, stabbing the spear into the flesh with all of her strength. She then does the same again with the other spear. She zips back to the crying fairy, who had no idea she was present and is simply crying desperately. Schieranna snatches the fairy out of the liquid and flies her to the spears. Thankfully, the fearful and terrified Zaereen instantly latches onto the first spear as firmly as she can, crying “HELP ME! PLEASE! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!”

“I know. Hang tight. I’ll get you out of here.” She then swoops over the liquid for a moment several times. Two fairies got swallowed, which means another one is present somewhere.

I have a light spell. Gyrryth has helped me sustain it at lower brightness. Can you use my spells?

“I can. Tell me the incantation.”

Bright shine, we’ll be fine. Give me light, if only a mite!

Schieranna repeats the spell, clapping her hands together and sustaining the glow that forms between her palms. Sustaining such a basic spell is extremely easy for her as a spirit, and she looks around. The Zaereen she already helped nearly falls from the spear at the introduction of light, crying out. “Help!”

“I’m not going anywhere! I’m looking for-...”

There! Um… P-Point out.

Schieranna doesn’t question the young fairy guiding her. She points her hand straight out in front of her eyes, and Lykha guides her. Down… Down… Now left! A little more… Down a little… There!

Schieranna spots her instantly, thankful for her very own fairy spirit guide. The irony is certainly not lost on her, and she zips down to the liquid.

Floating lifelessly in the liquid is the body of the other Zaereen, but Schieranna isn’t ready to give up yet. She scoops the young wishless fairy out of the liquid. She uses her own wind magic to force air to cycle into the lifeless fairy’s lungs. She murmurs as the liquid in the fairy’s lungs is driven out, “Got anything to revive her, Lykha?”

I-... I only have a basic healing spell…

“What about a spark?”

L-Like lightning? I… I can do a little… Will that help?

“Worth a shot.”

You shouldn’t hold her, though…

“Just tell me.”

A tickle of charge, a spark not so large. I call on thee thunder, grant me a spark of wonder.

“Who teaches you these spells?” asks the spirit with a slight amusement in her tone. She repeats the spell, and she can feel the jolt through her own body as well as the Zaereen’s. She’s nearly knocked from the air by it, but she manages to catch herself. “Okay… You were right.”

She wrestles with the fairy’s body to listen to her chest.

Bumb… bumb… bumb… bumb…

She’s alive… thank goodness…

Schieranna sighs. “Thank you, Lykha.” She flies with the unconscious fairy to the spears where the first one panics, “You have to get me out of here! Please! I’ll do anything! You can do anything to me! Please! I can’t stay here! I want to go home!”

Schieranna retorts, “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I get it. Listen, my best friend in the world is out there killing this thing, and I’m going to help him kill it from in here. Just hang tight here and keep your friend company.” She wrestles the bow loose from the waist sash of her elegant dress, and she carefully holds the unconscious fairy as she ties a knot around the free spear. She then carefully ties the other end around the fairy’s waist with painstaking effort. Once fastened, she gingerly lowers the fairy so the spear doesn’t pull out and neither knot slips.

“There! Now, both of you should be safe for the moment.”

“You can’t leave me!”

“I’m not leaving you in here. I’m going to go find something to stab this thing’s heart with.”

The whole monster shakes, and both conscious fairies flinch. Schieranna instinctively readies to catch the spears, but neither pulls loose yet. She inspects as the conscious Zaereen clutches desperately to her spear.

The spirit flies behind her and undoes the tribal warrior’s own sash, quickly fastening her to the spear. She says confidently, “There! Extra protection, alright? You’re perfectly safe now. Even if you fall, I won’t abandon you, okay? Trust me.”

The Zaereen nods desperately. She doesn’t have much choice either way.

Schieranna turns her face back towards the inside of the creature, and the relatively vast span of its stomach.

She asks rhetorically to no one in particular, “Now then… How do we kill this thing?”

*************