We had retreated back to the ruins we passed earlier, seeking them for shelter so that Laira could examine the box we had recovered. Her hand’s trembled as she pried it open, I watched over her with bated breath. The tension was incredible as the dim light of the dungeon illuminated her face, every emotion flickering in her eyes like a maelstrom.

With a final pull, the seal of the box finally gave in. And then…

Nothing.

The box was empty.

Laira stared into it, her eyes widening with disbelief. She traced the inside of the box with her fingers, as if she was looking for some hidden compartment that might suddenly reveal the artefact. But it was futile, it was definitely empty.

“It’s… gone,” she whispered, her voice shaking and hollow.

I approached her cautiously, placing my clawed hand on her shoulder to comfort her. “Maybe it was never there to begin with.”

I could instantly tell that was the wrong choice of words.

Her gaze snapped to me like an elastic band, and for a moment, I thought she might strike me down where I stood. The air around her became electric, her frustrations bleeding into her mana and charging the air.

“You don’t understand,” she spat, her voice trembling. “This was supposed to be it! The one thing that could-” She stopped herself, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

I raised my hands almost defensively. “Look, maybe it was moved somewhere-”

“It’s you isn’t it?” she snapped again, cutting me off. “Following me around like a leech, asking questions, getting in the way. And now, when I’m this close-” her voice cracked. “You’re just standing there. Mocking me.”

I took a step back in disbelief. “Mocking you? I’m not-”

“Shut up!” she screamed, her blade flashing out of its scabbard. “Just. Shut. Up!”

Before I could react, her sword slashed through the air, slicing into my chest. The pain was explosive, sharp and searing, as I was forced to stagger backwards. My enhanced regeneration activated immediately, knitting the wound together with black threads. But Laira didn’t stop there, her strikes became faster, the ferocity building with each slash of her blade.

“Laira- stop!” I pleaded, but she was beyond reason. Lost in a haze of rage, her frustration, despair, it all poured out in a brutal onslaught.

My goblin body couldn’t hold up, the connection was starting to unravel. Tendrils of my true form seeping out like smoke, desperately holding on trying to keep the goblin alive.

The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Laira’s expression. Twisted in anger, regret and frustration.

And then the goblin’s body collapsed, unable to sustain itself anymore as it bled profusely.

I drifted for a moment, suspended in a void between life and death. The goblin was gone, my host was damaged beyond repair. There was a lull where my consciousness shifted from the goblin’s perspective to my own.

I laid there, still melded to the goblin. Lyra is still beating at the corpse with her blade in blind fury. She took a moment's pause to brush her deep auburn red hair from her face, I took that opportunity to eject from the body entirely. My body reduced to a combination of smoke and ink, ejecting from the corpse into the shadows.

She didn’t seem to notice as she continued to wail on the lifeless goblin that was quickly becoming unrecognisable. I crept through the shadows, distancing myself from her on the off chance that she could still sense me.

Focusing every ounce of my will, I reached out, searching for anything that could sustain me. I hadn’t tested the limits of what I could do without a host, but I felt vulnerable and exposed. I needed a shell, something to wear like armour. My senses stretched beyond the ruins, into every crack and crevice around.

There.

A colony of bats clung high up in the ceiling, their forms hanging in the shadows. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do for now. I attached to the wall, slowly and cautiously climbing up to the ceiling.

I singled out the largest, latching onto it as my essence began to seep through its tiny frame. The conversion was agonisingly slow, struggling to contain myself in such a small and frail host.

When it was done, I flexed my new body- sleek and made of pure shadow, with leathery wings that felt too fragile to carry me far. But my senses were a lot sharper, attuned to the echoes of the cavern. Every sound was a ripple that painted the world before me. I could see Laira clear as day, as if she was standing in front of me.

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She was muttering to herself now, pacing around the empty box and the deceased goblin. I didn’t want to stay here any longer, one wrong move and she could destroy me for good.

I reached out with my tendrils, swallowing the remaining bats and absorbing them into my shadowy mass. I stretched my leathery wings out again as I dropped from the ceiling and took to the air, slipping into the shadows of the dungeon once more.

Flying was a disorientating experience. My new body felt light and completely foreign, I struggled to time flapping my wings correctly, the effort to keep myself aloft was draining. From above the dungeon stretched out endlessly, with tunnels and caverns only accessible from the ceiling.

I didn’t have much time. This host was too weak to sustain me for long and it wouldn’t be able to put up much of a defence. I needed something stronger, something that could fight, something that primarily moved with its legs. But finding a new host was easier said than done. Most of the creatures I was flying over were either too dangerous to approach in this form, or too damaged to be useful.

Hours- maybe even days passed by as I searched. The line between survival and desperation was starting to blur. My bat form allowed me to cover more ground, but a constant hunger gnawed at me, reminding me that my time in this body was limited.

I had an almost symbiotic relationship with the bat. I didn’t need to eat or drink, I fed from the bat’s life force. And when the bat was unable to eat or drink, I could temporarily fuel it myself. I continued to search high and low for a suitable host, there was only so long I could exist like this.

That’s when I heard it.

A faint, ragged breath echoing through a narrow corridor. Thick cobwebs became more prevalent as they made the ceiling a maze of sticky obstacles.

The smell of blood hit me before I saw the figure. My wings carried me into a cavern lit by faintly glowing moss, and there she was. Slumped against a jagged rock, a woman with dusky ashen skin and long, silvery hair matted with blood. Her breath was shallow, her body marked by deep gashes. Even without sensing her, I could tell she was clinging onto life by a thread.

A Drow.

I perched on a ledge above her, studying her weakened form. Drow were notoriously dangerous, known for their cunning and cruelty. But this one was beaten, her leather armour torn and her weapons discarded uselessly at her feet. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, revealing scarlet irises that burned with defiance despite her injuries.

“Damn you all…” she rasped, her voice coarse and broken.

I edged closer, abandoning the bat’s body as my shadowed form rippled like oil. The connection I had been seeking wasn’t just physical; it was about dominance and compatibility. She would resist me, I knew that. But given her weakened state, I could use that to my advantage.

Without any hesitation I surged forward, smothering her like a black blanket covered in smoke. I invaded her very being, seeping through every pore and orifice.

Taking control of a host wasn’t a pleasant experience for either of us. The moment I entered her body, her pain became my own. Memories flashed through my mind, chaotic and without a filter. The laughter of cruel humans, the pleading eyes of elven captives, and the sickening weight of gold pressed into my hands. Thalra - her name was Thalra - she had lived a life devoid of honour, yet her strength of will was undeniable.

‘Get… Out…’ Her voice echoed deep in my mind, weak but furious as she struggled.

“I need you alive, Thalra.” I replied, asserting my own will over hers. “You want vengeance, I want survival. Let’s not waste time fighting each other. Let me help you.”

She struggled, trying to push me out. But her injuries had left her too weak to resist. Slowly I began to mend her broken body, stitching together torn flesh and sealing wounds with tendrils of ink and shadow.

The pain receded, replaced by a cold numbness that filled the void, both a relief and a warning. My presence was changing her already, enhancing her senses, sharpening her instincts. I wasn’t just healing her, I was improving her. Reshaping her muscles, enforcing her bones. She was better in every way.

Thalra finally stood, her movements unsteady and uncertain. Her crimson eyes allowed her to see in low-light environments, the cave looked as if it was being illuminated by the mid-day sun.

‘What are you?’ I could hear her asking.

This was unusual, maybe it was just because I hadn’t inhabited an intelligent creature before. But I could still feel and hear her presence, she hadn’t been completely subdued yet. But she wasn’t vying for control either.

“I’m an ally, if you’ll let me be,” I replied to her, speaking quietly aloud. “Your body is mine now, but we can work together. I’ll keep you alive, but in return you’ll give me your strength.”

I could feel her laughing bitterly. “Strength? You’ve picked a corpse to ride, I don’t have any strength left to give.”

“Oh, but you do,” I argued, pulling from her various memories. “You’re a survivor, Thalra. You’ve lived through countless battles, schemes and the wrath of those you sold on.”

Her silence was telling, she was far from a saint.

As we began to move, her memories continued to unravel like a poisonous thread. She had been cast into this dungeon, not for her strength but for her cruelty. My father - King Vyreth - had sent her here after the crown had uncovered her trade in elven slaves. Thalra had trafficked innocent lives, selling them to the highest bidder among Draegoth’s corrupt nobility.

This realisation filled me with disgust, but I couldn’t afford to let my own morality cloud my needs. Thalra’s skills were valuable, her knowledge of surviving in hostile environments and her abilities. She was a weapon I needed to climb out of this dungeon and reclaim my life.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked as I chuckled softly through her body.

“Fate has a cruel sense of humour,” I replied ominously. “Your past doesn’t matter to me. What matters now is our future - and whether we survive long enough to see it.”

Thalra’s body felt less foreign than when I had assimilated with the bat, but it would still take time to adapt to it. Her limbs, her posture slowly became like second nature to me as we ventured further into the dungeon.

But the dungeon was not kind to trespassers. As we pressed on, the sound of skittering claws echoed through the stone passages. I could see them long before they revealed themselves thanks to the senses I had inherited from the bats, their legs long and spindly. Their bodies were thick and hairy.

Spiders.