There are dark spells in this world; ones that have succumbed to the thick, obscuring fog of time. Forgotten by the world, one wonders how these evil spells ever came to be, or how they were left behind.
It is no secret that dragons are the most powerful living creatures in the world, at least in terms of the sheer force of power radiating from their very existence.
However, I have learned that there is no living thing more truly powerful than a fairy that has learned the true depth of her potential.
What I learned over my many long years is that humans, drakyks, and the Queltarines aren’t very creative. Neither are fairies, for that matter. Or, at least, those that are are sharp enough to realize the damage a wish can truly do.
Or, the darkness woven into the fabric of the universe.
I learned over my many years of spells that should never, ever be used. The spirits are the essence of the universe. Their true power is unfathomable, and it can unravel reality. I can only guess how many times reality has been destroyed, only to have been restarted by whatever divine mechanism is in place to do so.
I know this because I wished to know. I only know what I exprienced was unbridled horror because I wrote it down, and in some divine providence, I had the means to undo the wish afterwards, forgetting all that I had learned from that wish.
Please, if anyone ever reads this -a fairy especially-, PLEASE do NOT ever use those spells. You will know when voices you cannot place cry out in agony as you draw on magical power exceeding even the spirits’ ability to tolerate.
Better yet, forget that you ever read this entry. I know it’s too late now, but please.
Gyrryth the drakyk spellshot grips the front panel grab bars as Coco drives. He’s watching the limb of the massive tree they are ascending in a specialized forest vehicle known as a trunk winder. The harpoon is anchored firmly in the colossal tree’s bark, and it’s holding for now.
Maerin, fidgeting nervously with her flask as she resists the urge to drink, asks with as much bravado as she can muster, “What good is the harpoon going to do us once we’re even with it and still upside down?”
The lizardman only barely glances at her. He replies respectfully, in spite of the fairy’s cynicism, “Our straits are not ideal, but such situations were accounted for by the vehicle’s designer’s, I’m sure.”
Maerin stares at him with a scowl, and he sighs. “It has been some time. I’m trying to remember.”
Coco stays focused as sweat drips from one of the croissant-shaped horns on the side of her head, her head being lower than the rest of her in the driver’s seat as she carefully drives up the lower side of the gigantic limb. But, she says in reply, “‘Bando knows how. Bet me pinky he does.”
Maerin retorts dryly, “A lot of good that does us right now…”
Coco asks, “Remembee yet, Gyrryth? Bark sticker’s right there.” She points, and he nods. “Indeed.” He looks rearward. “It seems all of the compartments have managed to grip. Good work Coco.”
“Aye! I’m the bes’ techromanca in the world, case you forgo’.”
Gyrryth chuckles, “Never, Fiery One.”
Kessa, the strange girl recently added to the team, asks, “Are there some kinds of arms on this thing?” She looks around.
Maerin, teasing the cap to her flask, winces as she tries to resist. “Another of your secrets, Kessa?”
“No. I’ve seen some of the travellers working on them near the village.” She makes hand gestures, representing something like crab claws coming from a vehicle -given the context of her query-.
Gyrryth nods, “Yes, yes that sounds right. Coco, see those controls?” Gyrryth points, shifting his weight as the trunk winder shifts a little.
She nods, “Aye!” Without any warning, she begins operating the stick controllers. The vehicle rumbles and hums as scoop-like arms extend out in front of the trunk winder. Coco laughs eagerly, and Gyrryth tries to instruct, “If you do one arm at a time, you should be able to keep the tracks moving at minimum.”
Coco inspects the controller, finding a coiled, stretchable cable for it. She passes it behind her seat, handing it to Gyrryth, “Aye! Ye swing the arms. Don’ne want ta be distracted.”
Gyrryth nods. He takes the control, easing himself back into his seat and buckling in. He guides the arms, using them to aid the trunk winder in crawling up the limb. The arms have specialized gripping tools to allow ascension up the limb from a low angle. It’s a slow and delicate operation, but the nishkatan seems to be having troubles of its own.
One is a human warrior legendary for hunting colossal creatures like the nishkatan, and the other is a young fairy.
***
Lykha darts close to the nishkatan, nimbly avoiding its massive, arcing movements that fight her with merely the wind coming from its thrashing. Murtoa of Lakia detonated one of his specialized bombs on the nishkatan’s head, the nishkatan being a giant ape-like monster with broad, raking antlers and massive muscles.
This attack, coming from its own body, has infuriated the nishkatan, and it claws at its head to try to find the human warrior. He’s using the antler for stability, as well as an escape like a tree as the nishkatan tries to feel around for him. It howls and roars in frustration, especially when it hits the tender spot created by the injury Murtoa inflicted, which amounts to little more than a forceful pin-prick in the grand scale of it all.
A true tradesman masters his or her craft. Every action is procedural. Every task has an appropriate tool. And, a masterpiece takes years or decades to complete.
Murtoa of Lakia wouldn’t define his battles against colossal monsters as practice, but every fight he develops more techniques for defeating the most aggressive and terrifying beings in the world.
Lykha manages to reach the warrior. She lands on his shoulder and grips his cape. He sways and rocks with the massive movements of the nishkatan, and Lykha shouts over the rushing air, “MURY! I’M MAD AT YOU!”
He calls back, “Hang on!” The human warrior unclips the reel from his belt, leaning back as the nishkatan throws its head back and howls in frustration. He makes a loop of rope, twisting a knot with deft and skillful hands. With the same speed, he loops the rope over one of the smaller spikes of the antler. He is forced to brace as the nishkatan slams its antlers into the trunk of the tree, now hugging the trunk so it can rake the massive bone-like protrusions against the bark. It’s trying to dislodge Mury by either scraping him off or bombarding him with bark and debris.
Lykha shields her head with her left arm as she grips Mury’s collar with her right. He hasn’t stopped what he’s doing, only delayed for moments when he is pelted by debris. He ensures the cable reel is affixed to the antler, and he pulls the free end of the shorn cable from the reel.
Lykha asks sharply, “MURY!? What do you intend to do with that!?”
“Nishkatan’s still alive, Lykha.”
She recoils in anger and disgust at being brushed off. But, the industrious human monster slayer grips the cable, running down the back of the colossus’s neck and towards its right shoulder. He swoops in front of its arm as it continues battering its antlers against the trunk. He uses the cable to swing back around behind the humongous creature, which thankfully hasn’t noticed that he’s on the move. Murtoa drops as Lykha hangs onto his collar more tightly, resisting being blown away from him as the much heavier human falls more quickly than she would alone, thanks to her magic and her wings. The cable is pulling free of the reel, allowing him only partial control over his swing and drop. Regardless, he is able to use his boots to help guide him down across the nishkatan’s back, past its short, stubby tail. The colossus is finally aware that Mury isn’t still on its head, and it looks over its shoulder towards the trunk winder as it huffs. It’s panting heavily, but Lykha doubts it’s too tired to continue the attack.
However, tilting its head back to look up at the trunk winder causes a particularly heavy piece of bark to fall from the antlers of the nishkatan, and Lykha cries out, “Look out!”
Mury glances up, and he twists the cable around his forearm so he doesn’t lose it, and then he pulls himself in as close to the shaggy hair of the massive creature as he can. Lykha scrambles in under his chest, bracing as the bark hits the human warrior.
Lykha’s stomach floats, and she nearly pukes. For once, she manages not to, but it’s not a time for celebration. The bark snagged Murtoa’s cape and yanked him free of his handhold. Lykha screams, “MURY!” She has to actively fly downwards to try to catch up to him. If she can reach him-...
Murtoa’s freefall isn’t in panic, and he manages to grip the cable firmly with his other hand as well. Soon enough, the cable pulls taut and he dangles with the bark hanging from his cape and keeping him from doing anything but hanging on.
Lykha darts to his chest, crying out, “Mury! Are you okay!”
He grunts, coughing. His voice is strained, and she can tell his cape is choking him presently. He chokes out, “My… knife…”
She nods quickly, darting to his belt. She draws one of his knives and flies to his cape. It’s bulk is most narrow at his collar, and she doesn’t hesitate to start sawing through the fabric as she watches the nishkatan briefly. It’s exhausting, as it’s nearly a whole-body exercise for the small fairy to slide the knife back and forth across the rough fabric of Murtoa’s cape. Thankfully, the human warrior meticulously sharpens all of his blades and keeps them clean, making it as easy as possible for Lykha.
They both drop a little more as the Nishkatan looks more over its shoulder and downwards, huffing as it seems to be looking for the source of the voice -Lykha’s voice-. She realizes that it can hear her, and she probably made it realize that they aren’t gone yet.
Stupid, Lykha. Stupid. Stop crying out. She keeps her hands moving as quickly as possible, cognizant of Murtoa’s head swaying a little wearily. His coughs are weakening, and right hand is barely holding the cable.
Lykha huffs and pants as she saws as quickly as possible, fabric tearing and shearing with ripping and snapping sounds. Suddenly, a continuous tearing sound joins that of her sawing, and suddenly, the bulk of Mury’s cape and the piece of snagged bark plummet to the ground far below. This causes the Nishkatan to look, studying the bark with a howl of curiosity and threatening challenge as it falls towards the ground far below.
Mury’s legs -not counterbalanced by his cape and bark- drop back into position, and he catches his breath with a few quiet coughs. “Thanks.” He swings himself subtly towards the left leg of the nishkatan as it looks the opposite direction for signs of the human warrior, growling. Its movements of its head drastically changes Mury’s height, but it also helps his swing easier, and he reaches the leg, tossing the end of the cable around its bulky leg. He climbs precariously down its hair to grip the cable, and he pulls the end up to tie it around itself.
Just in time, too, as Lykha tries to figure out what the warrior is doing. The cable suddenly goes completely taut as the nishkatan turns again to look at the trunk winder, and its own head movement pulls its leg free of the tree, startling it and unbalancing it. Mury draws Kolaya’s sword, slashing across the back of the nishkatan’s knee. Its leg is much to big for him to sever, but his cut is fairly deep, and the nishkatan howls in anger and pain as its leg springs away…
…Again pulling the cable attached to its antler.
The surprising tangle and precarious position causes the nishkatan to slip, dropping as Murtoa leaps to the trunk. His hands find a handhold in the bark of the tree, and he and Lykha are now at the nishkatan’s chest level as its left hand grips while its right hand claws at itself, trying to find the source of the tangle.
Mury shouts, “Lykha! Now!”
She darts to the nishkatan, calling out her spell. “Polltar yellem Neolsynnys, fleyyal bollellua forsalsis trah~!” Though she doesn’t know the meaning of the words specifically, she knows she’s calling on the power of Neolsynnys, and she can feel the chill fill her body again. Fortunately, she’ll never EVER use the soul-destruction spell she accidentally used ever again. She’s using a simple spell that will make the nishkatan weightless.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Murtoa leaps into the monster’s chest, jamming his sword as deep as it will go into a soft spot. The nishkatan roars in pain, and the spell takes effect as Lykha’s body suddenly feels weak. Her mind feels cloudy and her wings feel heavy. She tries to shake her head clear, but she feels like her strength is draining like a bucket of water with a big hole in it. Murtoa jumps upwards with as much strength as he can, and Lykha loses consciousness.
***
Murtoa jumps up into the air, and the nishkatan howls in surprise as his tiny form is able to kick it downwards even while its foot grips frantically to keep it from falling; it's the only point of contact on the tree right now. Murtoa pulls his legs in close, adding a little more height with which to fall and hit the nishkatan, and the impact knocks the colossus free of the gigantic colossal redwood. It roars and flails as Murtoa braces himself to retreat, but he notices Lykha falling as well. Murtoa calls out, “Lykha!”
She doesn’t move or respond, continuing to fall in the air currents caused by the colossus’s fall and flailing.
Mury bolts towards the fairy, ducking to avoid a cross swing of the nishkatan trying to flail and recover its grip on the colossal tree. Its movements work against it, however, as the brief time it is weightless, its powerful movements cause massive recoil and counter force, causing it to begin spinning.
Murtoa is able to descend down the nishkatan’s chest as it rolls backwards from its movements, and he scoops Lykha close to his chest. He then begins using the shaggy fur of the colossus to scale around its side to its back, which is now rising. Lykha said ‘seconds’ for how long the weightless spell would last, and he kicks as hard off of the nishkatan as he can towards the tree, narrowly avoiding the grip of gravity claiming the giant more firmly, accelerating it towards the ground far below. Mury has dropped colossi before, and more than one have survived a fall from this height, but the battle is over for now. Even if it survives, it will be too injured to try to continue the attack.
That said, Mury also has to survive, and his own downward momentum increases as his momentum towards the tree slows. The further he falls, the less likely he will be able to catch, but if…
Suddenly, he halts, and his stomach lurches, causing him to cough and dry heave. He feels sick and nauseous, and he recognizes the vertigo of weightlessness easily enough. Someone just cast a similar spell on him. However, Lykha’s body is still lifeless, indicating it likely wasn’t one of the spirits, at least via the young fairy’s body. He looks up at the limb high above, where he can see small figures next to the trunk winder.
Just as suddenly, though, an eerie wind blows through the forest carrying whispers. The human warrior looks around. The human colossus-slayer has experienced a lot in his life, but this is something new even for him.
***
Moments earlier, Lykha and Murtoa, the two directly engaging the nishkatan far below the trunk winder and the rest of the group, manage to dislodge the colossus from the tree’s massive trunk, taking bark and bark-parasitic foliage with it in a rain of splinters and leaves. It even trembles the limb the trunk winder is perched on, and Kessa walks briskly to the back, exiting the ramp right behind the drakyk spellshot who is jogging to survey the battle.
Kessa isn’t curious though. It’s not a secret that Murtoa isn’t going to recover. What is a secret is whatever source of magic spells swirl around her mind. They are as clear as the spoken word of her new friends to the young teen vagabond princess, along with all of the other secrets of the world flooding her mind with discord.
She begins speaking the spell as she reaches her hands out, focusing her mind on her new friend, falling with the monster as it flails in surprise and bellows in anger and fear. “Zayaleyella solsenn vox da’ark lore… Feia Nieolsynnys!”
Gyrryth glances at her, but he also recoils lightly at the surge of magical power that comes from the strange vagabond princess. A glowing bubble appears near the nishkatan, though the beast continues to fall as the bubble remains in place.
Gyrryth was once a member of the Holy Church of the Spoken Realm, so he knows many teachings about magic that casual magic users don’t often have access to. His specialty is ranged offensive magic, but he’s seen and been in the presence of a wide range of spells. The language Kessa is speaking seems almost familiar, but long forgotten. Her spell seems to have stopped the fall of Murtoa, so he tries not to dwell on it for too long.
However, a sudden gust blows through the whole forest. All of the leaves that he can see and hear begin to flicker and waver, rustling as the wind picks up.
And then, the whispers. Kessa is still chanting, but whispers begin to fill the air, seemingly speaking in chorus with the young teen.
DRAKYK! STOP HER!-AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
Gyrryth feels like the voice is familiar, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Six distinct voices are screaming in agony, and the eeriness has increased greatly.
Suddenly, the whispers turn to screaming as dark magical energy swirls around Kessa. It grows and rumbles the air. A hole in the air seems to be opening before them. Gyrryth has heard of paladins called in to take down rogue mages experimenting with teleportation magic, and many died in the process. Accidentally summoned monsters and demons, portals to the bottom of the ocean, and other tragedies started by experimenting with forgotten spells. He’s even heard rumors that the Tears of Merzianne, a river nearly a mile wide, heads at a portal somewhere in the mountains east of the forest. Though, where the water is actually coming from is impossible to know for certain.
That said, the very fact that this enigmatic teen can tap into such ancient and powerful magic begins to come into scope with the drakyk spellshot. The Archpaladins have spoken of spells that were intentionally sealed away from all knowledge, lest the world be at risk of destruction. He came to suspect -especially what little he knows about the true state of the spirits- was that it was magic the Holy Order couldn’t trace or control.
Now, he’s less sure they were entirely out of line destroying knowledge. But,...
He grabs Kessa’s shoulder, shouting over the screams and the raging wind, “KESSA! STOP THIS AT ONCE!” She looks at him, still speaking, though her eyes are wide. He insists, “KEEP SIR MURTOA SUSPENDED! CEASE THE SPELL YOU ARE PERFORMING, LEST WE ALL-...” She suddenly stops, and the portal vanishes. Just as quickly, the voices stop screaming, and it seems as though she’s only just noticing them. The forest is unusually quiet, and Gyrryth states, “Keep Murtoa where he is. I’ll retrieve him.”
He jogs past Coco and Maerin, who are watching with pale expressions. He quickly reloads the winch cannon’s powder charge for the one they used to ascend, and he takes aim carefully, aiming for the glowing dot near the trunk of the colossal tree. He adjusts carefully, mindful of the natural air currents and other factors that could throw off his aim. He has to hit his mark perfectly, or the human knight dies.
Gyrryth pulls the trigger, and the winch cannon fires, sending a harpoon high at first, allowing the spiraling spear to reach ever closer to the trunk of the colossal tree. It begins to fall, drifting ever closer to the human warrior.
***
Just as suddenly as it started, the eerie screaming and wind stopped, though the forest is silent now, making it easy to hear the winch cannon fire. Murtoa doesn’t panic, though. He can’t do much about his situation as it is, and he ultimately trusts Gyrryth.
A harpoon spears into the tree trunk, draping the winch cable near the human warrior within easy reach. He didn’t see the harpoon pass by due to the velocity, but the cable is accessible to him and he’s still alive. He grips the winch cable with his free hand, still cradling the unconscious fairy to his chest. He then carefully tucks Lykha into his gearbag so that he can use both hands to shimmy down to the harpoon. He braces his boots against the trunk, pulling the harpoon free so he can swing freely. Almost immediately, he can feel the vibration of the winch motor running as they slowly ascend. He stands on the flukes of the harpoon and balances with his left hand so he can peek in his bag, making sure Lykha is still okay.
The fairy appears to be simply unconscious, but it’s difficult to tell with her small form and his precarious position. He looks up at the trunk winder as Gyrryth guides Coco in reeling them in. Maerin calls as soon as they’re close enough, “MURMUR!? Are you alrigh!?”
“I’m fine. Lykha needs looked at.” Gyrryth and Kessa offer hands to help Murtoa up to his feet as he walks up the steep part of the limb with the winch pulling him up. They help him onto stable footing, and Maerin hovers paintstakingly in his face. “What do you mean!? Where is she!?”
Murtoa opens his gearback, gently extracting the young fairy, and Maerin darts down to her.
“Lykha! LYKHA! Wake up!” She puts her ear to the younger fairy’s chest. “W-Was she hit!?”
“No. She seemed to simply pass out. We’re fortunate she was able to finish her spell.”
Maerin gasps. “The weightlessness spell!? D-Did she overdraw!?” She listens diligently to Lykha’s chest as the human warrior holds her, and the others gather around to look on.
Coco asks, “Wha’s’sa big shocka to tha’? Tricksie jus’ needin’ some winks, yeah?” She looks at Murtoa for approval, but Maerin retorts sharply, “NO! Magic…” She sighs. “I was serious when I accused her of being scared of her limits, because fairies have magic available to them until they’re dead.” She pats Lykha’s cheeks. “Wake up, Lykha. Please. Please be okay. Mury. Mury, we need to…” The mature fairy looks up at him, trembling.
He replies softly, “She’ll be alright.”
“How can you know that!?”
He digs in his gear bag, withdrawing a small phial of glowing liquid. Maerin’s eyes widen. “H-... Have you always…”
“Give it to her inside. Any signs of trouble where we are, Gyrryth?”
The spellshot shakes his head. “Not that I can see, Sir Murtoa. If your intent is to make camp, I concur.”
The human warrior nods. “Coco, park us closer to the trunk of the tree, please. I’ll put Lykha in her bed for Maerin to tend to and then reload the cannons. I think we have one remaining spare reel.”
Gyrryth nods. “Standby in forward left, my friend. And, we have enough powder slugs for two full reloads.”
Murtoa starts walking into the trunk winder as the teen girls both follow. Coco asks, “Will… Will Tricksie be… normal, Love?”
He scoffs, and Maerin chokes out a small laugh as she worriedly monitors Lykha’s vitals. The mature fairy replies, “As long as we can get her mana back up, she’ll… She’ll be fine. Th-Thanks to this…” She clutches the phial tightly.
Murtoa adds, “Kessa, please help Coco or Maerin however is needed while Gyrryth and I work.” He sets Lykha and Maerin down on the young fairy’s bed, and Maerin instantly opens the glowing potion. She tilts Lykha’s head gently, saying, “H-Hand, Kessa. Please.” The teen steps forward quickly, offering her hand as a pillow to keep Lykha’s head tilted, and Maerin says softly, “Thank you.”
Murtoa adds, however, “The magic you used…?” Kessa flinches, but he doesn’t make any accusations or threats. He asks simply, “Your wish?”
She nods nervously. “I… I didn’t know…”
“I believe you. Be careful from now on. There are many spells that cause more harm than good.”
She nods, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need an apology. Just warning you for the future.”
She nods, and he asks, “Maerin; need anything else?”
Maerin, pouring the potion gently into Lykha’s mouth as to not waste a drop, shakes her head softly. “No. This… Where did you get this?”
“A rogue alchemist trying to tame a yardlok.”
She seems to relax a little, and he adds attentively, “I didn’t accept anything from Vielall.”
Maerin almost double-takes at him, but doesn’t look. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the power the treacherous former apprentice has over her, let alone distract her from taking care of her young companion. She nods, acknowledging Murtoa’s reassurance that he has no personal loyalty or attachment to Vielall, in spite of the wish she made using Maerin’s wish.
Coco asks, “Wha’s a yardlok?”
“Sea creature. Big water monster. He was hoping to make a monster-drawn ship.” He then changes subjects back to the immediate tasks at hand; “Coco, wait until Maerin is ready to drive, and then take the winder to the trunk as I asked, please. Gyrryth and I will check the perimeter and make preparations to hide the trunk winder. None of the winches are armed right now, so…”
“I know tha’, Love! I paid mind ta it!”
“Good. Any questions?”
“Nah! Jus’ when this little Tricksie gonna stop makin’ me heart feel heart things for’er.” She sticks her tongue out at Lykha, and Maerin and Kessa chuckle. Just as Murtoa is turning away, the teen techromancer asks, “She… killed it, di’ne she?”
The professional monster slayer nods. “She made it a lot easier, that’s for sure. But, I’m going to check to make sure it’s dead.”
She tells Maerin, “I’ll move the runna when I come back. I’m goin’ too.” She faces Murtoa. “No rush, aye?”
“For now. Assuming the nishkatan is dead.”
“Then le’s go, Love!” She jogs out ahead of him, and he walks casually. Coco jogs to the part of the limb where she can still stand, suddenly halted from going too far by the strong grip of the human warrior. He warns, “You might not want to look.”
“I’m the bes’ techromanca’ in the world, Love! No fear be gettin’ the betta o’-...” She peers over the rest of the limb, truly seeing the height for what it is. Inside the trunk winder, she is merely driving a vehicle, and she has no concept of what’s behind them. Now…
Her grip tightens on Murtoa’s glove, and she scrambles for his hand. He pulls her clear as she begins breathing quickly. “I-... I… It’s… I…”
She sinks to a seated position, covering her mouth. The warrior chuckles, “Take your time working at it. You’ll overcome it eventually.” He eases her back to completely stable and safe ground, and he says, “I’ll take a look.”
Murtoa walks without fear to the curve where he can see without falling, and he looks at the ground far below. Gyrryth approaches at the same level Coco is at, asking, “Ahhh, ensuring our most recent foe is dead, yes?”
Coco nods, still trying to settle her stomach. “S-... So high…”
Gyrryth nods, “Indeed. Let us hope such a fall was enough.”
Murtoa climbs back up and walks to the other two. “There’s enough blood. The nishkatan is dead.”
Gyrryth nods in agreement. “I would hope so. A pity we shall be unable to claim its fur. That was a big one.”
Mury jokes as he points his thumb over his shoulder, “You’re welcome to climb back down. I’ve heard the antlers make good pommels for weapons.”
Gyrryth chuckles and gestures his hand in polite counter, “I shall pass on that offer, Sir Murtoa. I have neither the tools nor the patience to make use of a nishkatan’s antlers.” He restores his broad hat to his head, looking at the ‘ceiling’ of leaves above them. Coco adjusts her own helmet, also looking up. The drakyk spellshot states, “There is still a fair amount of daylight. We could continue our ascent.”
Murtoa shakes his head. “No. The spell Kessa used… Nature is out of balance. It’s best for us to wait.”
“I see… Yes.” Gyrryth touches one of his spelldusters. He remarks. “I can feel it… The grace of the spirits is no longer with us…”
Murtoa helps Coco to her feet, stating plainly, “It comes back. But, it is likely a good thing Lykha fell unconscious on her own. I’ve heard it’s like a shockwave to those truly in tune with the spirits.”
“A shockwave?” asks Coco, trying to learn.
Mury nods. “Like an explosion.”
“If I may, Sir Murtoa;” requests the drakyk. Mury looks at him, and Gyrryth continues, “If this spell… sent out a shockwave…”
Mury remarks grimly, “The true reason I want to hunker down for the night.”
Gyrryth nods knowingly, and Coco looks between them, worried. Murtoa notices, and he replies to her, “Don’t worry, Coco. We’ll be alright.”
She nods, looking up at the sky again. She rubs her eyes. The forest is full of shadows and motion, and they just killed a colossus.
One more shadow passing high above is just part of the forest.
***