[COMBAT ENCOUNTER RESULTS: CORGI VICTORY]
[Core Skill Increases]
[Blink] LVL 2->3
Cooldown decreased: 55 -> 50 secs
[Repulsive Bark] LVL 2->3
Distance pushed increased: 25 -> 30ft
[Tailcopter] LVL 3->4
Duration increased: 40->50 seconds
*[Bite] Lvl 2->3
*ABILITY MORPH AVAILABLE
CHOOSE ONE OPTION:
[Deep Bite]
Bite can now inflict status
OR
[Ravenous Bite]
When a [Bite] attack is used on body part
You know something? After all the crap I’ve been through in the last forty-eight hours, checking in with my skills actually makes me feel normal.
Ok. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, considering I’m just about to pick a skill that lets me disarm someone with my teeth alone.
[Ravenous Bite] MORPH SELECTED
What can I say? I’m a strategist at heart.
“By the way, Myra,” I pant as I try to keep up with my unnaturally chipper companion. “Isn’t our job done? Our little ‘beast hunt’ is over, right? I’ve passed your test…at least, I think so…”
She spares just a simple look over her shoulder at me.
“There’s one more thing we must do,” she says.
She stops in front of an ancient old oak tree with roots that stretch further than any of the others I’ve seen in Glenheim’s surroundings. Pushing passed fauna and foliage, she palms the surface of the tree trunk and a small opening stretches out before her.
Just small enough for a dog to fit through.
“Come,” she says, crawling inside.
I cock my head and sniff the air around the old tree. Nothing untoward around here. A quick [Snoop] tells me nothing new. As far as I can tell, it’s just an old elder oak.
But I’ve been wrong before…
I crawl under the split-bark opening and feel it close behind me. Bathed in darkness, with only my [Lycan Eye] to guide me forward, I follow Myra as she edges towards – hell, I dunno – whatever other surprise she has in store for me.
“Look,” I whisper. “I really should have told you this before, but I’m not the kind of dog that likes surprises. If there’s another winged demon I gotta fight, can you at least prepare me this time?”
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Her cold whisper does nothing to dispel my concerns: “The only fight you must contend with now is the one you have been destined to partake in.”
Her sword is still affixed to her waist. Sharp and ready, needing nothing but a willing hand to guide it. I’ll be honest – if she wanted to kill me, she’d have probably done it by now, right? Or did she just wanna wait till I felt safe, and secure, and till we were in a place where no one could hear a little Corgi scream…
It’s just when I think about turning back that we emerge into a grotto far removed from the forest we were just walking through. The grass is thick and lush, and the trees that line the small field are brimming with twittering birds in the eaves. Myra straightens up, cracks her neck, and points to a beam of sunlight streaming through the treetops above.
“Behold,” she says with awe.
I follow her hand and then the shimmering beam as it descends, lighting on the sparkling, jeweled hilt of a silver sword embedded in an old tree stump in the grotto’s center.
A sword just like the one Myra holds at her side.
I look from the blade to her face – a face that’s sparkling just as bright as the weapon is in the afternoon sun – and I don’t even feel my tail begin to wag.
“You look at me like I might kill you,” she says.
I barely repress the ironic laughter rising in my tiny gut.
“That’d make more sense, I’ll be honest.”
She smirks, draws her blade, and then plants it in the warm earth before her. She drops to a kneel and, after a moment of contemplation, fixes me with her serious sapphire eyes.
“Raziel,” she says. “You have proven yourself worthy to wield a blade of the Sisterhood. With the mercy of Mistress Palka as my guide, I name you Raziel, Glenhound of the Glenmaiden Order!”
I back up, unsure of what to even say.
She’s…she’s making me one of them…
“If you should accept,” she adds. “Pluck the blade of the maidens from its prison. Take it up within your grasp, and rise as one of us.”
I feel goosebumps run up my spine, and try my best to shake them off as I ask, “Why?”
She blinks. “You have passed the tests of the Order,” she says. “Those of the Glenmaidens must be strong, versatile, and show a capacity for mercy. You have done all these things, and more, in the short time you have been with us. And I…” she pauses, fighting the hot flush overcoming her face. “I – I am pleased to have served as your teacher.”
I lick my lips, feeling more pride swell up in my fluffy chest than I’ve ever felt in my whole short life.
“Can you say that last part aga-“
“Don’t push it!” she snaps. Then, remembering herself: “Just…take the sword and let us return. My Sisters await word of your success.”
This…this was it wasn’t it, Myra? I think, looking on her sheepish face. This is what your Glenmaidens wanted you to do, right? They wanted you to put me through my paces, see if I could pass the tests…and you didn’t want to.
I cock my head at her expression. She’s proud – sure – in her own way she’s showing it. But there’s something else behind those eyes, too.
Then it suddenly hits me.
You were…afraid?
She meets my stare.
Afraid I’d fail?
“Well?” she asks, probably a little more aggressively than she’s wanted to. “Do you accept, or is the Lightborn too proud to receive this honor?”
I smile, overcome by my own sheer stupidity.
Swifty…all this talk of conspiracy theories…all this paranoia…we’ve had an ally here with us this whole damn time. And Aethel? Wherever you are right now, you knew that this girl is exactly what I needed, didn’t ya?
I bow my head as far as I can.
“What kind of student would I be if I didn’t accept a gift from my Master?”
I catch the little grin that appears under her façade.
“Well, go on then,” she says in all but a whisper. “It is time you had a blade worthy of your skills.”
I turn and creep towards the blade like its some sentient being deserving of worship. I dunno. This whole situation just feels so holy. It’d be wrong if I just ran up on the thing and pluched it into my mouth like a chew toy.
All I’m saying is, if the thing squeaks, I’ll be the happiest dog in the world.
I grip the thing’s hilt in my mouth and yank it free, suspending it above the stump for a moment while I feel a sense of security come over me. It’s like the sword just fits my mouth more snugly than the old rusty scimitar on my back.
[Bladed Weapon Equipped: Silver Straight-Sword]
When I turn back to Myra, new blade twinkling from my mouth, she’s standing with a puffed-out chest that’s swelling with pride. Even if she’d never admit it.
“It…it suits you,” she says, gesturing me back through the opened grotto exit. “Now your every thrust shall have proper weight behind it.”
I hop out like a doggie-king that’s just been given his crown. “I gotta say, it feels pretty nice! Way more tasteful than that rusty old thing I’ve been using all this time. I almost feel like I should get a spare one, if these things really do grow on trees.”
I watch her go silent in the face of my laughter, and just as we emerge back into the inky black of the old oak’s innards, a very different kind of darkness comes over her face.
“These blades are special,” she says. “No two have ever been the same. The one you carry was once held by another.”
I look back at her, struck by the coldness of her tone. And, though she won’t say anything else, my stomach gives a sudden lurch.
Because I can probably guess who wielded this thing last.