“Alright, so here's the plan. Me and Boriss are going to head to the swamp, or at least as far as he can take me until I need to go in alone. While we’re gone, I need both of you to gather information while staying out of sight as much as possible.”

I glance at Cillian. “You should also try to figure out how that skill of yours works. It could be useful to us later.”

“I will give you a week,” Irmgard exclaims. “If you do not return by then, I will go my own way.”

I nod. “I should be back by tomorrow night if I rush. This island isn’t nearly as big as you think it is.”

Cillian sigh. “Don't die. I don't fancy my odds surviving on my own.”

“Don't worry,” I wave my paw at him, “My death tends to coincide with the end of the world. Anything that kills me will shortly kill you too.”

Cillian rolls his eyes as though I’m joking.

I tap my mount, “Now, Borris, you ready to head out?”

“Da. We go make corruption into suka.”

…Sigh?

“You can't make corruption into- you know what. Nevermind. Considering how everything is going, said corruption may be a woman that needs a firm paw.”

The oaf laughs boisterously at my comment and then jogs into the forest.

Fauna abound within the forest foliage. Bright, colorful, plump birds flit from branch to branch. Tasty chipmunk analogues chitter and scold from their arbors. Delectable mice rustle the grass along their hidden paths. My new feline instinct to hunt pairs with my slightly less new fenris instinct to slaughter, and I subconsciously flex my claws as I watch the birds.

“Considering the diversity of the bird species, this island must either not have many predators or it’s a major stop over on migration routes..”

“Many pretty birds.”

“They are, but they also don't look local. Many of these birds have a rather vibrant plumage that doesn't fit with the current environment.”

“Birds not normal?” Boriss asks.

“Probably not. Too much biodiversity of colors and types that would be more common in a tropical rainforest. We’re currently in a temperate forest- which shouldn’t have such evolutionary pressures to produce such coloration. My only guess is that the birds traveled from elsewhere or this island used to have a different environment.”

My eyes roam the treetops, scanning for predators, and find basically none other than larger bird species.

However, everything changes as we get closer to the island’s center. The trees start looking less healthy and the number of animals takes a nosedive. The smell of decay fills my nostrils which urge me to gag. I don't, of course, and neither does my mount.

“Comrade Quasi, smell is stinky, yes? Like Russian shoe after training.”

“Yea, stinky is a euphemistic way to describe it. You’re lucky you don't have a strong sense of smell.”

The animals and insects disappear altogether when we reach the edge of a barren swamp. Dead trees jut from the water without a single sign of decay. Violet water, transparent and sterile, without a single scrap of algae or trace of leeches, laps softly around the gaunt tree roots. Bleached bones litter the bottom of the pond.

We stop near the edge. I dismount and land a foot away from the thick, violet water.

“Take out some of that jerky and dip it into the liquid. I want to see what happens.”

He does as I ask and retrieves a piece from a ration. He dips it in the liquid and then pulls it back out. The jerky is starting to already dissolve.

Fast acting acid of some kind that can’t dissolve bark or bone? Odd.

“Now, how do I adapt to this environment? Boriss, do you think I should take a lick?”

Boriss raises an eyebrow. “Is not you already adapting?” he points at me, “You are purple, yes?”

Purple?

I twist my head and look at my fur. Indeed, my coat is a resplendent violet.

“Huh. Alright. Let’s test this further.”

I move closer to the water and dip a little bit of my fur. I stare at my fur and watch as it does not dissolve. Then, I dip my entire paw. It gets distastefully wet with purple ichor, but remains my trustworthy paw.

“Final test. Lower that test jerky to me.”

He does and I take a bite. The flavor is atrociously bad, but I feel no pain of any kind.

“Looks like I’m immune. Good. Boriss, set up a quick camp and let me eat my fill.”

As he nods, I feel a rumble extend through the entirety of the island. It feels like an earthquake, albeit a weak one.

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“Huh. Weird.”

“Is not normal?”

I tilt my head away from the water. “Dunno, first time here. Other worlds have a tendency to fuck with biomes, and sometimes even physics. God I hate when physics is changed. It makes things so needlessly unpredictable.”

I grimace at the liquid for a moment. Then, I walk into the murky violet water. I feel no pain, but the water is thicker than expected. With a sigh, I doggy paddle my way deeper into the swamp.

I tilt my head back. “Boriss, make camp further away from the swamp. Keep a fire burning so I can find you on my return.”

“Roger, Comrade,” he salutes.

____________________________________________________________________

Though the swamp looks like death took a bony, purple diarrhea shit into the water, it’s actually perfectly safe. No monsters or beasts roam the waters or skies, no deadly insects or sentient plants, no gnarly parasites or strange diseases. There is nothing that would endanger my life here.

“This’d be kind of tranquil if not for the gloomy fog.”

As I waded and paddled deeper, I entered a violet fog. Boats floated there, mostly small paddle boats and canoes, complete with the bony remains of their crew. At length, I did cross a larger craft without oars or mast, floating in the murk. Sensing a jackpot, I climb aboard. My intuition proves perspicacious. Among the bones of the long departed crew lie their wood and metal belongings: several well crafted knives, a couple swords, a fancy hammer with Germanic runes on the head, and the coins from their generous purses. Ah! Cruel Irony that my perfect Form has neither opposable thumbs nor pockets, I could not cat paddle with all those coins.

Or the hammer.

Which I tried, mind you. I’m no pussy, but a five pound feline can only carry so much.

I continue the tour of my new vessel and lo! The ship’s suspicious lack of obvious propulsion turns auspicious. I find the boat’s magical engine intact, complete with fancy glowing crystal. I climb up to the pilot box and mentally bless the shipwright for installing cat compatible controls. May Loki never leave a flaming bag of shit on his doorstep.

Conveyance secured, I continued on my way. I find even more boats with human skeletons, but unlike my first find, these are crewed by the considerably less wealthy.

But, one thing I do note from my high vantage is that some of the corpses aren't human, which means that other sentient species exist.

As I near the center of the swamp, the fog becomes thicker and thicker, till I can barely see past the prow of Neko 1. Then, all at once, the fog clears. Before me, a monstrous, house sized head lies half buried in a hill surrounded by swampy water.

The head, at least what I can see of it, has signs of decay and even damage. One side of the monstrous head looks heavily indented.

I hop off my boat and splash my way up the muddy hill. I climb up to the head and stop. Under my feet thrums a constant beat, a continuous thumping vibration that raises my tail.

A single, slitted eye, large as I am, opens and gazes upon me.

“A sovereign?” a voice speaks directly into my mind, “Here?” the eye blinks. “No, only a child.”

“Well, hello to you too.” I call out to the head. “Are you by chance the proprietor of this swampy demesne?”

Mortal speech? At such an age? Impossible!”

The eye blinks and seems to focus on me. “Who are you?” it asks.

“Who?” I tilt my head. “Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man transformed into an adorably cute kitten.”

The eye blinks slowly as though it finally realizes something.

“Your form is changed.”

“Twice changed, actually, it’s hard to find a form to express my awesome. Once, I was an extremely sexy human, to put Adonis to shame. Then I experimented being a preposterously puissant werewolf monster demon, and now I am in God’s first form, an adorable kitten.” I nod to the eye. “It’s been a wild last few days. Not lucky for me at all.”

“Anyways,” I stretch my limbs. “The name’s Quasi Eludo, summoned hero extraordinaire. It's a pleasure to meet you, giant, monstrous, psionic talking head.”

The eye blinks.

“Curious. I sense wariness, but not fear. Your mind is old. Older than my own. You are… an enigma.”

“Yea, I get that a lot.” I lay on the ground. “So, you got a name or something or am I going to keep thinking of you as a ‘giant head’?”

A moment passes as the eye blinks several times. I feel the mental pressure probing me, not reading my thoughts, but more so my emotions.

“I am known as Tawih, prime matriarch of decay.”

“Tawih. That's a nice name. I was expecting something a bit more complicated and longer.” I roll onto my back. “So, Tawih, what are you doing here?”

“Dying.” she answers simply.

“Right. You just turned this conversation into something rather morbid. Why are you dying?”

“The last battle has wounded me beyond my ability to heal. I will eventually die.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No. Only my power over decay delays my death, but even that will soon expire. As of today, I am down to my last heart. I will perish in the next decade.”

“I see. That's unfortunate. But, death happens and all. Been there, done that several times. I hope you’ve lived a good life? Any regrets?”

“Only my stolen children. They were taken from me. Even now, I sense them alive, captured, and suffering.”

Wow. You’re dying with the full knowledge that your children are suffering. Now that is fucking torture.

“Alright. You’ve hit my heartstrings. So, maybe I can help you out for a little quid to the pro quo. I need to get rid of all this decay so the island can start healing. If you can help me, then I can give you my word that I’ll find your children and free them.”

I feel the psionic energy from Tawih swell exponentially with a great deal of interest and hope.

“You speak the truth!” Tawih exclaims.

The eye blinks rapidly and I feel significant movement under my feet.

“I accept this deal, Quasi Eludo. I charge you now with my children, Kawlphe and Tur.”

I feel a psionic energy slam into my noggin. A mark of some kind. A psionic mark.

Then the rumbles begin. I watch, mesmerized as the fog clears and the swamp drains. I watch for minutes on end as violet liquid flows away, leaving mud and bones. The Neko 1 settles into the muck, never to move again. The stench of decay returns, and this time I do retch.

“It is done. The forest will heal and I no longer have the energy to continue living.”

The eye blinks slowly. The constant thrumming of the ground slows.

“My core is within my head. When I die, take it and use it as you will. Just… please…”

The ground shakes one last time and the thrumming stops.

“Save my children.”

The eye closes permanently.

As the psionic energy disappears with her death, only a single question is on my mind.

Does this count as making corruption my bitch or did it just happen the other way around?