Nyxpera

The 19th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

Time slowed to a crawl as the goblin mage’s knife plunged toward the baby’s heart. Lyssa could do nothing but watch. Impotent rage and horror churned in their battle for dominance. She pushed against her bindings, but the rope was firm and double-knotted. She tried to stand to her feet, throw herself into the path, but the hands clamped around her shoulders and legs kept her down. The weight of her failure wrapped shards of ice into her heart, stretching the moment out into infinity.

“Ritual slaughter of the young. It’s been some time since I’ve witnessed such a thing.”

Lyssa took a gasping breath as everything around her became eerily still. It seemed even the air itself ceased to move, despite her breath. She tried to squirm out of the goblins’ grasp but it was like trying to bend stone.

“The desire to protect one’s young. A remarkable thing, is it not? A sense of preservation so powerful that it affects even those who do not have progeny.”

Lyssa struggled harder but even her own body resisted her, disallowing her to move.

“I tried to warn you that your power would not be enough. One day, perhaps, you would grow strong enough on your own accord, but the mortal races have always been concerned with time. You never have enough of it, even when you think you have forever.”

“What price will you extort from me to save that child’s life?” Lyssa spat the words, hating the concession in them. Hating herself for saying them.

“You speak of price? What is one mortal child to me? Whether it dies today or in a thousand years, I will still be here.”

“You promised me power, before. What do I have to give to gain the power to save them?”

She’d been outmaneuvered. Hyperion knew the goblins would kill the children. Perhaps even driven the goblins to do it. It didn’t matter, not really. She couldn’t let them die. She wouldn’t.

And Hyperion knew it.

“I asked for loyalty and you denied me. You ask for the price? What price are you willing to pay?”

Lyssa bared her teeth.

“Anything.”

“And if I ask you to choose one of those children to sacrifice to me, in exchange for the rest?”

“Then I will kill you and take your power for my own.”

The words flooded out before she could stop them, full of heat and rage. The lights around her twinkled and the inflection of Hyperion’s voice was full of amusement.

“You have spirit. Good, you will need some blasphemy. I shall do you this kindness, this favor. Someday, I will call upon you to return one. Do you accept?”

An open bargain, more dangerous than any price Hyperion could have exacted. Magic suffused the air, far older and more powerful than any she had ever felt. Though no notification appeared to mark the bond, she had no doubt that this choice would be enforced. This magic far preceded the system.

“I accept.”

“Then take my power and save your people.”

A mote of light split from the rest. It floated down, hovered in front of Lyssa’s face, then flew into her mouth. Pain shattered her awareness, shattered reality. Blood bubbled in her veins and light suffused her skin. Heat grew within her, boiling her organs. In her limited vision, the interface for her vitals flickered and cracked. A dozen notifications swept past, far too quickly to read, but one word repeated itself over and over.

ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR

Fear conquered her fully.

She was dying. Blood poured from her eyes, her mouth, her ears; flames and sparks scattered from her rippling skin to hit the ground. Every organ ruptured, every bone snapped in twain. It had been a trick, a trap to slaughter her in the most painful way imaginable. A cruel game where she, the unwitting fool, was maneuvered to the cliffside and convinced to leap into oblivion.

Damn her, her weakness and stupidity, damn the goblins, and damn Hyperion.

Then strength filled her. Her blood no longer boiled, her organs whole and intact. Her bones solidified once more. She was alive. She was changed.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Light suffused her, strong and yellow. It poured out of her, erupting in a pulse as time shot forward. The goblins closest to her flew backwards by its force. The hands binding her disappeared and the ropes burned away as she surged to her feet.

The goblin mage stumbled, the force of the blast knocking him backwards. He dropped the knife and baby both, clutching at his eyes as he and the rest of the goblins howled. Lyssa moved forward, two quick steps, and caught the baby before it could break against the ground. She took the time to stroke one cheek with a glowing finger before she set it in the lap of an astonished older child, who blinked up at her with an expression Lyssa hadn’t seen in a century. Admiration.

Lyssa grabbed her bow off the ground and watched as light suffused the weapon. She drew it back to her cheek and a gleaming line grew over the string, placing itself between her fingers. She pointed the weapon toward the mage and loosed the arrow of light. Despite his shock and blindness, the mage threw up a hand and a stone barrier grew around him. The arrow slammed into the shield, shattering it, and kept going, burning a hole through the mage’s head.

Lyssa turned and began her slaughter.

A score of goblins fell before comprehending the situation. Her light was the last thing they saw. Without needing to draw arrows from her inventory and nock them to the bow, she was able to shoot far faster than ever before. The pitiful response was crushed beneath her careful aim. Two score more goblins died before the rest tried to flee. They scattered, rushing for the myriad tunnels that connected to the cavern.

Unacceptable.

Not a single goblin was allowed to escape. Not a single goblin came close.

The light faded, the focus of her rage vanquished before her. In its place, Lyssa felt a profound weariness. She stumbled, her feet no longer steady, then fell to her knees. The bow slipped from her grasp and landed in front of her.

Cracks suffused the wood, each pulsing with soft light. The string glowed where she’d held it, then snapped, sizzling away to nothing. The wood splintered apart, the sudden release of tension too much for it. The glow grew more intense and the bow turned to ash before her eyes.

Lyssa felt the crack deep in her heart. One of the only things she had left from Dawnwood, now dust. She scooped up a handful and held it close to her for a moment, then placed it into her inventory. The ground pressed up against her and the world faded into a dull roar.

Error!

Unknown influence discovered…

Analyzing…

Analyzing…

…

Substance: Titan’s Blood

Entity: Titan

New entity detected!

Generating…

Your Profession has changed:

Huntress --> Demititan

Exposure to Titan’s Blood has forcibly changed your Profession.

Gained affinities for Light and Fire.

You have made a deal with the Titan Hyperion and, upon consuming a drop of Titan’s Blood, have started yourself down the path of the Demititan. The Titan’s Blood has integrated with you and cannot be separated by any means.

This profession provides a bonus to all attributes.

These changes are retroactive and additive to your previous Profession’s allocations.

This is a Mythic Profession.

You have learned a Skill.

Titan Body — Level 1

You have learned a Skill.

Hyper Arrow — Level 1

Lyssa read and reread the notifications several times. It was purple, like the Trials. Mythic rarity, it had to be. It was impossible, just as impossible as her Profession so suddenly changing. For almost two hundred years, she’d been a Huntress.

No longer.

It was another cord to Dawnwood that had been severed. Corrupted and mutated by the Titan’s Blood that now infused her. She didn’t have to open her status to know that her attributes had changed, were still changing. A flood of points shored up positions that she had long neglected: Intelligence, Charisma, Luck. Even her strong areas—Dexterity, Agility, Endurance—were growing. The sudden change brought incredible pain, but her body had integrated with the Blood. She was altered, now. Forever.

One more notification blinked in her vision.

You are the first Demititan in Tartarus.

You have discovered a Trait.

The One Above All

+10% in all Attributes

The One Above All.

Lyssa’s head lolled, her focus slipped. This last was too much, a cruel joke. She knelt at the feet of entities she couldn’t comprehend, but she would make them pay for their games.

Then, perhaps, her people would be safe.