A red lion roared as it fell upon the earth spirit, scarlet claws gouging out chunks of root and dirt in sprays like blood. Pavlos did his job well. He wasn’t suited to fighting an enemy like this, but he was ferocious and nimble enough to keep the thing distracted.

The earth spirit held no true form, but today it had taken on the shape of a barrel-chested man reminiscent of the kynokephalon’s physique. Its ‘skin’ was the color of riverbank clay and a dozen stones plopped haphazardly into its muddy body stared unblinkingly at Pavlos with every exchange of blows. Each of the elemental's strikes came down like a hammer, shuddering the earth.

Its face was more reminiscent of a tree’s canopy than a man, though the impressions of cheeks and a strong jaw somehow bled through the wild tangle of leaves and moss it had incorporated as 'hair'. This was a relative newborn, spawned from some site of power nearby, but its youth didn't make it any less dangerous. An older and wiser elemental were generally content to be left alone. They preferred solitude in most instances. Humans were a little too busy for them. The sounds of civilization were oftentimes enough to repel the spirits.

Young ones were born wild and confused, forced into a world that they had never know. They could be vicious in their fear. This one had slain a young guard patrolling the outer borders. Pavlos had stumbled upon the battered corpse and returned it to Yoreme, where he'd then been tasked with slaying the beast before it could find a taste for blood. Kosta was happy to assist.

Kosta Projected a barrier to absorb one of the earthen man’s bone-rattling punches, wincing as the barrier just barely managed to withstand the sheer force. But Pavlos was an experienced combatant. He darted away and leapt upon his foe’s back, snarling and slashing in a whirlwind of claw and fang. The red lion latched onto the earth elemental’s neck, his muzzle soon dyed in molten silver even while his hind legs kicked frantically to tear deeply into the creature.

The elemental's groan was like the whistling of wind through the trees. It swung and then made a sound like snapping branches, one of its enormous clublike arms raising high to face the sun. Thick roots lurched up from the earth to entangle Pavlos, winding around his legs with incredible speed, and Kosta roared out his denial. "No!"

He raised his staff and immediately felt at peace as its immense power brushed comfortingly against him. It was like standing before a bonfire on a cold winter night. Kosta's heart slowed and he filled his mind with images to foster the connection with his instrument and steer the expression of power: Dytifrourá's mountains bathed in the molten light of dawn, the fiery noon sun pounding against his neck, and a pillar of red flame birthed from Clymere's bronze spear.

Magic flooded down his arm and resonated with the phaetra core embedded in the staff, coalesced, and burst forth in a blazing scarlet-gold beam with tiny tongues of flame rippling at its edges.

“Pavlos, get off!” Kosta shouted even as the beam blasted through the earth elemental’s gut, piercing its earthen flesh in a way that Pavlos could not. The elemental’s tree-like head turned to look down upon the gaping hole in its stomach with what could only be shock. Its river stone eyes blinked again, stunned at the sight of its grievous wound, and Pavlos squirmed away from the roots as they lost their animating will.

A more experienced elemental would have just bound him tighter.

The red lion was back on its foe in an instant. While the earth elemental kept fighting—it didn’t have organs, after all—the attack had clearly done a number on it. Quicksilver blood gushed from tis wounds, patching the damage dealt by Kosta's spell. At least that injury slowed it down. Most of the damage Pavlos dealt was just superficial. He was adapted to slaying creatures of flesh and blood, not earth and stone.

This would have been a deadly hunt for him on his own. Pavlos likely would’ve had to deal with traps and attrition.

Luckily, Kosta was quite adept at manipulating stone. He thought himself mad for a moment as he crept up behind the damaged elemental. Putting himself in danger like this wasn't something he was eager to do, but Kosta was comforted by the crude Teris he'd carved from a bit of sandstone a few days ago. It wasn't quite as powerful as the marble Teris constructs he preferred, but this would do the job. He needed a workshop and time to craft more powerful tools. Neither was particularly available at the moment.

The battle raged for a few more seconds as Kosta arrived. He attempted to be silent, but a blinking river stone eye caught sight of him. The earth quaked as it stamped its foot.

Now or never!

Kosta hissed as he leapt forward and pressed his open palm against the earth elemental’s cool back. He cast out a net of magic and gasped as a flood of information flooded his mind: the layout of the earth elemental’s body, the feel of its thick, solid magic, and an animating will that drove it. It pressed against him, but the newborn elemental was newborn. The damage it suffered left its thoughts hazy and fragmented.

He was happy to take advantage of that fact. Kosta felt a surge of victory fill him as he pressed power through his hands. The light of his soul blazed grey around his fingertips as he clawed through the earth elemental’s skin and flesh—hard stone was the hardest to get through, but the slick clay was familiar to him. His fingers ground through rock, carved through slick clay, and Kosta couldn't help but exult in the power he felt as he literally ripped the elemental apart.

This must be what Pavlos felt. Kosta could see why his friend was so addicted to the thrill.

Pavlos seemed eager to do his part. He raked his claws through the elemental's front, though he steered clear of its chest lest he accidentally strike Kosta. The elemental tried to strike him, but between Kosta's carving hands and Pavlos demanding its attention there was nothing it could do but rage. Its motions grew frantic. Aggression turned into outright fury.

But none of that mattered, did it? Kosta's fingers ripped through the earthen body, slipped through mud, and grasped something hard and jagged. It felt like a mass of roots.

Kosta smiled.

The earth elemental made a sound like a boulder cracking as its thrashing redoubled, but it was too late. Kosta’s made a fist around the tangled mass and wrenched it out. His enemy groaned, made a keening noise, and collapsed in a shower of dust and mud and stone.

“Not bad!” The lion snarled, licking its silver-stained chops. Kosta’s forearm was covered in a slick mass of dark clay and argent blood. He stared down at the gem-like chunk he held in his hand. It pulsated with the same brilliant silver as the blood and was just a few shades brighter than his own grey magic. “Fun, isn’t it? There's nothing like literally ripping your enemy's heart out to get the blood pumping!”

Kosta's smile grew into an outright grin. They'd won! And more than that, they'd earned themselves a prize. Kosta admired the sheen of the earth elemental's core as it pulsated between his fingers. This was its heart, the source of its power. "I have to admit, that was pretty exhilarating. A bit more exciting than just keeping you alive. No wonder you like getting up close and personal!"

He inspected the core more closely. It appeared like a faceted gem, though a silver mass oozed within like congealed blood. The core caught the sun’s light beautifully, flickering like the finest diamond. If only he could keep it...unfortunately, Headsman Phillip would want this trophy as proof of the creature’s demise—it wouldn’t bring back the young guard who had been slain by the confused elemental, but they could take comfort in knowing their son’s killer was no more.

“Well isn’t that a pretty picture!” Pavlos was back in the shape of a fanged man, though he was covered in a second skin of dust, mud, and silvery blood. He plucked it from Kosta’s grip and held it up to the sun, then tossed it back to the sculptor without a care. “Fifty tokens closer to your goal, eh?”

Pavlos tossed an absolutely foul cloth his way. Kosta suspected it had been white at one point, but now it was mostly the deep red of dried blood. He held it at a distance, but eventually sighed. It was disgusting, but at least it meant the elemental's blood wouldn't drench him any longer. So he scrubbed quickly (and shuddered every time the rag touched his skin) and managed to clear off most of the mess. He ached for a shower.

"It'll help get me there. I at least have enough for a second session with Polemus," Kosta said. He glanced up at Oroneiros, which drowned the woods in its spectral shadow. “He charges an arm and a leg, you know.”

“I don’t, actually,” Pavlos said as he rummaged through the remains of the earth elemental for anything interesting. “Fancy pants painter doesn’t know what it’s like out here. He still thinks he’s back in Khrusopolis where they shit gold. But if it's an arm and a leg you need...” he trailed off, no doubt thinking of some new prey they could hunt together.

"Not like that!" Kosta laughed, though he was sure Pavlos was just messing with him. Still, Pavlos' words lingered in his thoughts. So Polemus was from Khrusopolis? It didn’t quite surprise Kosta—the painter didn’t seem the type to have come from a tiny dot on the frontier, and one wouldn’t find an artifact like his brush by working in Yoreme.

It raised his interest, though. The City of Gold was a long, long way from Yoreme. Not many would make that journey lightly.

"I can handle his price, even if it's this close to obscene," Kosta pinched his fingers together. Polemus demanded three hundred tokens for a month of lessons—enough to pay for a new workshop in Dytifrourá or Yoreme, though not enough to stock it—but was 'generous' enough to offer another introductory session for a down payment of one hundred. Kosta technically had enough to pay up front, but he couldn't just spend that kind of money without thought.

Prices in Notelos were liable to devour his coin reserve entirely. He had to scrimp and save wherever he could, so he had to work and pay Polemus the old-fashioned way. It was a shame no one in Yoreme was interested in his sculptures, although he'd managed to sell one or two here and there. It was excruciating to pay that sort of price when he had little more than the clothes on his back and the staff in his hand, but Kosta was determined to see this through.

Polemus was a master. Any lessons he could impart would be priceless.

Kosta and Pavlos had earned around two hundred tokens in the past two weeks of hunting and split it evenly, though Pavlos honestly deserved a much greater cut. Kosta suspected that the hunter cared little for civilized trappings like money. Most of his equipment was handmade and the rest generally bartered for. Dytifrourá had a thriving economy despite its small size, but Yoreme seemed to run largely on equivalent exchange and promises of favors down the road.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

No, Pavlos seemed to find most of his payment in the thrill of the hunt...and the bloody reward at the end.

"Fifty closer," Kosta said. "Assuming that Antigonus' sticky fingers don't steal any more away."

"I warned you," Pavlos snorted. "The man's a talented leech, I'll give him that. He can squeeze gold and favors from a stone."

Wasn't that the truth? Antigonus found ways to wring Kosta like a wet rag whenever possible, though his mother's lessons rang in his ears every time he traded more than a word or two with the innkeeper. Headsman Phillip's generosity ran dry a week ago, but Kosta negotiated to keep his room at a discounted rate due to his long stay. His landlord was truly talented in finding ways to trade tokens from Kosta's pockets to his own purse, though. Perhaps that was the gift he’d been granted by the Demiurge. There were worse powers to possess.

In all honesty, Kosta found it relieving to have a number to meet. He needed a goal. A direction. Something to keep him on his feet.

“Crack that open, will you?" Pavlos interrupted his thoughts. "The Headsman never said the heart had to be intact. Might as well take our bonus while we’re here, don't you think? We can digest it on the way home.”

“I’ve got you.” Kosta clutched the elemental core in his hands. The silver fluid within pulsated as magic filled his palms and bled into the gemlike structure. A deep fissure was carved into the heart as his power swelled, urging its crystalline walls apart, and he nodded to Pavlos. “Bottoms up, eh?”

Pavlos flashed a smile with too many teeth. “It's your kill. You drink first.”

Kosta grinned back, still drunk on victory. Quicksilver blood filled the crystalline heart, oozing out in fat drops from a tangle of vessels that reminded Kosta of roots. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply, though he nearly gagged as a thick, metallic taste brushed his lips, squirming as if still alive. Aretans above, that was foul! It was no less than he expected, of course. No one would think an elemental's blood would taste like daisies and rainbows.

But the power! That made it all worth it. Kosta shuddered as the remnants of the elemental’s spirit burst through his body, carried by his blood. His vision went dark for a moment and he felt himself connected to something vast and endless, greater than he could imagine, permeated with mountains and cities and—

He took a deep breath and felt power bleed off of his skin. Kosta handed the heart to Pavlos, who licked his lips before he drank the rest of the elemental’s argent lifeblood in one great gulp. The red hunter was far more used to this sort of thing, but even he flinched as a brief connection to the earth formed. It was a far different experience to the dizzying rush of strength one would receive from something like a chimera or griffin's flesh.

The civilized part of him found it unseemly, but Kosta looked forward to this little ritual of theirs. It was disgusting, but at this point his tongue (and stomach) had begun to adjust. He’d tried chimera flesh, though it was too sour for his tastes. Kosta almost thought of it was harshly acidic, but he wouldn’t back down from Pavlos' challenge. He’d drank kynokephalon blood and felt a measure of its animalistic spirit infuse him.

And now he’d imbibed the power of an earth elemental.

The magic flooded through his flesh, tearing its way through his spirit, and Kosta grit his teeth as it settled with the weight of stone. It longed to vent through his skin and rush back into the earth to return from whence it came, but he bound it tightly in a grey prison. Some could not be kept, threatening to overcome him, and Kosta used his magic to shear and carve it away.

Kosta felt the power stabilize after a few minutes of processing. It was more compatible with him than the bloody power of the kynokephalon or the savage strength of the chimera had been, and so he gained more from it. He’d only just begun to understand the rhythm of the hunt and thrill of battle.

Stone had been his constant companion for a long, long time.

He longed to find himself a proper workshop and carve away at a lump of marble, but all he had to look forward to back in Yoreme was the pavilion behind Antigonus’ inn (which he charged Kosta to use, naturally).

So instead Kosta tore a chunk of stone from the earth elemental’s remnants. It was easier than ever to carve away at the earth with his grey magic, though only just. If everyone could become a titan from eating magical flesh then monsters would have gone extinct long ago.

But even a shade of their power would benefit Kosta.

“You’ve become a hungry beast!” Pavlos said with a laugh as he licked the silver blood from his lips. He paced wildly, filled with vigor from the elemental's lifeblood“Perhaps your future lies in the hunt.”

“I’d go hunting for a drakon if it gave me what I needed to craft a world.” Kosta's power infused the stone.

Pavlos snorted. “A drakon? I’ll let you know if I stumble across one…still, imagine what a fight that would be!” His dark eyes glimmered with hunger. Kosta suspected that his friend was just imagining a nice cut of bloody drakon steak in his jaws. “You truly want to forge a world, then? Here I was thinking you were just drunk off your ass and spouting nonsense.”

If Kosta were being honest, it was the wine talking. Not that his ultimate goal had changed, but it wasn’t as if Kosta went about shouting about world-sculpting from the rooftops! No, he knew what most would say.

Papa would’ve considered it a foolish dream and told him to get back to his carving. Others would have been even less charitable. But Kosta had seen the Demiurge molding worlds. He remembered that drop of golden blood.

One day…

"There are legends aplenty," Kosta said. "I just plan to take it further than anyone else has dreamed. Even the Demiurge."

"Don't let the wrinkly old man at the temple hear you say that." The red hunter stalked closer, still grinning. “Sounds like a long road. You’ll be leaving a lot of dead monsters behind you. Oceans of blood.”

Kosta thought back to the manticore and its unhinged jaws spiraling with fangs. “That's just a bonus. The ugly things need to be culled, don't you think? We'll be better off without them."

“Now you’re talking my language!” Pavlos laughed again, clearly in a joyous mood after their victory. He was never happier than when he’d just killed something. The savage man glanced down at the rock in Kosta’s hand. “You’re not going to eat that, are you?”

He blinked. “What? No, I’m not going to—” Kosta eyed Pavlos’ smirk. “Oh, shut up. You think you’re funny?”

“Nah, just bored. You’re too serious, sculptor. You’re more fun when you’re deep in the cups. Or wrist deep in an earth elemental.”

Kosta hated the phrasing of that last one, so he steadfastly focused upon the rock. Grey magic washed over it in a tide, seeping into the stone. He breathed deeply as a new connection formed between himself and the material, that same tether which had linked the earth elemental to the soil.

His magic worked and cut and sanded until the plain rock was left as a tiny stone man. It was bereft of most details, though Kosta was fastidious enough to line it with basic features such as eyes, a nose, lips, and ears. He almost left it at that, but he couldn’t stop himself from diving a little deeper and adding muscle definition, a smooth head of hair, and a few other details for his own peace of mind.

This was just an experiment, but that didn’t mean it had to be crude.

Kosta felt the rough stone against his fingertips and flooded the rocky rendition of a man.

Change. Move. Live.

The stone drank up his magic like a man dying of thirst. It trembled. Kosta held his breath, let out a loud whoop as the stone man’s limbs twitched, and then felt crushing disappointment as his experiment shuddered and fragmented. His entire body came splitting apart and the pieces continued to squirm until Kosta withdrew his will.

“Still not working?” Pavlos picked his teeth with a tiny splinter of kynokephalon bone as he peered down at Kosta. The red lion’s mantle yawned. “That’s a shame. I'd love to see what some big rocky lug could do to a chimera's skull. Think how exciting our hunts would be!”

It was just like Polemus told him in their first lesson: stability was everything. Kosta could Animate hard materials like limestone or marble well enough, though it often damaged their integrity and compromised enchantments. They also relied on being attuned to Kosta’s magic, usually in the form of being something he’d put hours of work into.

But anything softer would destroy itself beneath the strain.

Anything that wasn’t in the shape of a human was almost impossible. He’d attempted to Animate a little carving of a goat and it had torn itself to shreds within just a few seconds as he commanded it to move. Kosta wasn’t sure why, though he’d sensed that the motion was…off.

“You’re getting better,” Pavlos remarked. “Faster, too.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Kosta dismissed. “The early strides are the easiest. I’ve already found my limits. Pushing past them will be…expensive. And a giant pain in the ass.”

Pavlos shrugged, having already lost interest. “Maybe Polemus' lessons will be helpful after all. Still, imagine paying to watch someone paint!” He said with a scoff. “No, it's worse than that. You're literally paying to watch paint dry!

“It has its charm,” Kosta defended. “Have you ever seen Polemus in action? He’s incredible! And just think how much easier our hunts might be if I learn to make constructs like him.”

The red hunter gave him a considerate look at that, then shook his head. “Nah, still too boring. You could have bought yourself a nice spear for all that! The old painter is making a fortune off you.”

Kosta hid a flinch. He could never, ever wield a spear. Not like Clymere had. She would’ve loved Pavlos, though. It was too easy to imagine them crossing weapons, though Kosta thought Clymere might have the edge. Pavlos was a powerful warrior, but he was a hunter at heart. She’d trained to slay both man and beast.

“Any news on the armies?” Kosta tried desperately to change the subject.

“Headsman Phillip reckons the Dipoli’s vanguard will reach us in a month or so.” Pavlos grimaced. “I’ll be packing my bags before then, I expect.”

Kosta froze. “You’re really going to leave?”

“I’ll have nothing to hunt. The Dipoli won’t suffer monsters and bandits near their supply lines. You don’t want me to starve, do you?” Pavlos made a few jokes here and there about eating brigands, but Kosta was never sure if he was joking or not. Some questions were better left unanswered. “No, there’s no place for me in tamed lands. I know what I am.”

“You could come with me!” Kosta blurted out. Pavlos looked oddly at him, though a glint of consideration filled his eyes. “Yoreme’s not for me. A nice place to stop, but I have my eyes set on greener pastures.”

Pavlos snorted and pointed a clawed fingertip at himself. “You expect me to be welcomed in Notelos?” Even the red lion’s mantle seemed to laugh at Kosta, though it still looked as if it wanted to eat him. Kosta didn’t expect that to change anytime soon. “They’d rather admit a beggar. And I’d rather choke on one of my arrows.”

Kosta met his gaze. “Just think about it, will you? The Eirenians would kill to have you.” They were Notelos’ peacekeepers. Well, the Dipoli’s enforcers, really. They tamed the land near the cities and pursued what creatures and practitioners were too dangerous for towns to handle themselves.

He expected they’d adore Pavlos given that he already did their job for them around Yoreme.

“Or just kill me,” Pavlos replied. His fanged grin grew wider. “They’re welcome to try.”

He shook his head and cast away the remains of his animation project. Kosta would have to try again with sturdier materials. But he would figure it out. He always did.

Kosta would have far greater challenges to overcome than mere Animation by the end.

“Sun’ll start setting soon,” Pavlos observed, seemingly uninterested in considering the future just now. He wasn’t one to plan. Kosta saw him fixate on Oroneiros for a moment. He wondered what the red hunter saw in the spectral mountain. “Want to get going?”

He gathered up his staff and their prized core before nodding.

It was a long walk back.