Reya stared at the body of the dead Wyrm. The information her eyes were telling her wasn’t registering with her brain. The monster had just… keeled over and died — and it hadn’t been a pretty death.
“Oh shit,” Olive said. She elbowed Reya in the side to grab her attention. “We’ve got another one coming, Reya. And I don’t think this one is dancing at death’s door. Get ready to fight.”
Reya glanced in the direction Olive was looking and her heart caught in her throat. Olive had summarized the situation pretty well. Jessen’s second Wyrm was charging straight toward them.
Before she could even say anything, Rodrick sprinted past her, a tendril of shadow trailing behind him. He skidded to a stop a dozen paces in front of them and waved his hands wildly.
“Over here, you big ugly lump!” Rodrick yelled.
His plan worked; possibly better than he’d been expecting. The Wyrm lunged, its huge jaws daring out with terrifying speed to snap shut on him. Rodrick let out a strangled curse as the tendril of shadow went taut and yanked him back. He skidded across the ground, stumbling over his own feet, but managed to keep his balance.
He raised his sword and pointed it at the Wyrm, baring his teeth in a grin. “Ha. What do you think of—”
The Wyrm’s tail whipped for Rodrick and the tendril of shadow cracked like a whip. Rodrick was launched into the air amid a slew of curses. He spun his hands, righting himself and grabbing onto the tendril as it released him. The former paladin slid down it, landing on the ground with a grunt as the tendril re-attached to his back.
“Now that’s not a fighting style I thought I’d ever see,” Olive said in a mixture of disbelief and awe.
Reya herself was unable to respond. She couldn’t place why, but her attention kept getting pulled back to the dead wyrm’s corpse. Something about it was calling to her. That was already concerning enough. Thinking about dead bodies with any amount of desire was never a good thing.
Thinking about corpses when she was roughly a minute away from becoming one was worse. If anything, the feeling was growing stronger. It was a deep gnawing in her stomach that would not be denied.
Olive readied her sword and prepared to charge forward to help Rodrick. Reya grabbed her shoulder.
“I need to borrow your sword.”
“What?” Olive looked at her in befuddlement. “I need to help—”
“Please,” Reya begged. “I don’t have time to explain. I need it.”
Olive thrust the blade into Reya’s hands. She grabbed it and sprinted for the dead monster, not wasting an instant on words. Reya skidded to a stop beside the Wyrm, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.
The feeling was growing more and more intense with every passing second. The longer she spent away from the monster’s body, the more it grew. There was something that belonged to her within it.
She jabbed the blade into the monster’s side — and it rang off with a loud clang. Alive or dead, the Wyrm was still a Wyrm. Reya lifted the sword, but before she could swing it, Olive’s hand wrapped over her own.
“You need this cut open?” Olive asked.
Reya nodded desperately. Olive took the sword from Reya’s hands and held it before her. Then she brought it down.
Its tip traced through the air like it was moving through molasses. It crept down and connected with the Wyrm’s scales. They cracked and snapped, shattering beneath the impossibly slow strike.
Olive’s blow carried through, digging deep into the dead Wyrm’s body. She ripped the sword free and shot a doubtful look at Reya. “Okay. What did you—”
Reya thrust her hands into the monster’s flesh. Blood burst from it, soaking her arms and spraying across her chest. Olive gagged and took a step back. Her confusion was quickly replaced with concern.
“Reya, are you okay? Did you get hit with mind control? Resist it!”
“I’m fine. Forget about me, just help Rodrick.” Reya desperately dug through the monster’s ropy muscle. It was like trying to punch wet sand, but she didn’t care. She dug through the creature’s flesh, thrusting her hands deeper into its body and creating memories that she had no doubt would haunt her for years to come.
Another string of curses rang through the air. Out of the corner of her eye, Reya spotted Rodrick sailing through the air. A ramp of shadows materialized beneath him and he hit it with a pained grunt, rolling all the way until he hit the ground.
He staggered to his feet and spotted Reya as she went elbow deep into the gushing wound in the Wyrm’s side.
“What the fuck?”
“Just trust her!” Olive yelled. “Wyrm coming!”
Rodrick swore again and ran to join Olive. Tendrils of darkness followed after them, fastening to both of their backs. Reya pulled her attention from the fight and back to the grisly task at hand.
She still hadn’t even figured out why it was at hand, but the mental command was too intense to ignore. Her hands pressed against muscle and her fingers worked. They didn’t know for what they searched for, but still they searched.
Her desperate moves drove her arm up against bone. It cut into her arm and she hissed in pain as her blood mixed with the Wyrm’s. Reya didn’t even want to think about what diseases that could cause, but even that wasn’t enough to stop her.
Something touched her fingertip — something that was neither flesh nor bone. A jolt of freezing cold energy raced down her arm and into her chest. Reya locked in place, midway through drawing in a sharp gasp.
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Then she thrust herself forward, plunging into the wyrm all the way up to her shoulder. Blood poured down her body and soaked into her clothes. She stretched her fingers, pressing against the flesh in her way.
Something met her hand. A metal bar, rough and shoddy. The back of Reya’s neck prickled and the chill expanded to pass over her entire body. It was a hilt. A familiar one.
“My dagger,” Reya breathed. It had remained lodged within the Wyrm ever since the monster had stolen it from her. Fear and embarrassment intermixed.
She’d been digging through a monster’s corpse because she’d somehow instinctively known that a dagger that she’d really liked had been inside it. Sure, the blade had an incredible magical property, but it was nowhere near important enough to turn her back on the fight for. It wasn’t that important.
That was what Reya should have felt. It wasn’t what she did feel. It may have just been nothing more than a weapon, but it had been the first thing Arwin had made her. It had been a promise of a better life. A life without running. A life she could actually live.
No matter how relatively unimportant the dagger was, it was hers. And, for some reason, it had been calling to her.
Her fingers closed around the hilt.
A thrum ran through her hand as if someone had struck the blade with a hammer. She nearly lost her grip on it but managed to hold fast. Reya tugged on it, but it was lodged fast inside the dead Wyrm.
She gritted her teeth and pulled again. She leaned back with all her might and braced a foot against the Wyrm’s body. Blood already covered the entirety of her upper body, so there was no point being shy about ruining the rest of her clothes.
Reya pulled again and something shifted. The dagger started to move. She leaned forward, then threw herself back with all the might she could muster. Blood sprayed as she ripped the dagger free from its fleshy prison.
As if Reya had shattered a dam, blood burst from the wound in a massive river. It slammed into her feet and nearly knocked her off her balance — but it didn’t continue past her. She let out a terrified yelp as the rushing river of red coursed up her body and wound into the dagger in the palm of her hand.
The Wyrm’s body seemed to wither before her as the blade drank from it. Its scales turned lackluster and shrank as its muscles were drained. Gallons upon gallons of blood pumped out of it. Reya tried to drop the dagger, but her hand was locked around it as if in rigor mortis.
The sounds of fighting in the distance grew muted as if she were under water. Everything but the dagger and the Wyrm shrank away from her vision. Time slowed to a crawl, and the thump of her heart sounded like a hammering drum in her ears.
Her entire body locked in place. A heartbeat passed. Two.
Then time snapped back to normal. Blood splattered down all around her and the dagger in her hand glistened, painted a deep ruby red. And then it purred.
There was no other word for it. A dull warmth washed over her from the blade, wrapping around her body like a comforting hug. Reya stared at the dagger in her hand in disbelief as golden swirls poured out of it and the Mesh made itself known.
Wyrmhunger: Poor Quality[?]
[Awoken]: This item has taken on life of its own. With every death it causes, it will grow slightly more powerful. Its wielder has been chosen.
[The Promise]: Forged from scrap and gifted to a street rat, this blade was never destined for greatness. It was the symbol of a promise. A promise stolen by a Wyrm. For one with nothing, a promise was all it had, and so it was in blood that Wyrmhunger was — and will be — forged.
[Insatiable]: Wyrmhunger learned hunger from its smith, but it was the desire of its master that honed its blade. So long as Wyrmhunger is held by its chosen wielder facing an opponent stronger than them, their emotions will feed or detract from its power.
The Mesh faded away. Reya stood, the blade aloft and drenched in blood from head to toe. She let her hand lower. The sounds of battle had come to a stop. Her stomach clenched and she spun.
Rodrick and Olive stood before her, their blades drawn and breath coming in ragged gasps. The Wyrm was before them, locked in place as if unable to believe its own eyes. Behind it rested Jessen’s body, burnt and smoldering. Arwin knelt swaying beside it, his head craned back to stare into the heavens.
The Wyrm’s gaze lowered to look straight at Reya. Its eyes had lost their pink hue, and there was an animal intelligence deep within them. They were the eyes of a predator. Wyrmhunger shuddered in Reya’s hands.
Not in fear, but in excitement. Power roiled off the weapon and soaked into her skin. She felt it pump through her body. It wasn’t just the blade’s hunger. It was their hunger. Reya took a step forward. Her hand tightened around Wyrmhunger’s hilt.
The Wyrm’s gaze bore into her eyes and she held it, unflinching. She didn’t know exactly what the dagger could do. It was a toothpick in comparison to the Wyrm. Reya had no right to stand before the massive beast and do anything but quail in fear.
Arwin gave me my class. Everyone has helped me fight and gain experience. I’ve just been sitting back and letting them handle all the hard work. I want to be more than just a support. I want them to rely on me. I want to be able to make my own damn decisions without needing Arwin or anyone else to protect me from my own weakness.
Coils of red mist gathered around Wyrmhunger and swirled up Reya’s arm to rise up into the air around her. The dagger’s hilt warmed in her grip, but she didn’t let her eyes drift from the massive monster.
I’m not running for help. Everyone else is busy doing their part. This one is mine — and Wyrmhunger’s.
The Apprentice Warden took a step toward the Journeyman Forest Wyrm. It towered above her, a wall of impenetrable scale and muscle. A woman, little more than a girl clad in crimson, stood before the strongest creature in the forest.
For an instant, neither of them moved.
The Wyrm balked. It lowered itself, backing away from Rodrick and Olive. The huge monster took one last look at the body of its mate beside Reya. Then it turned and lumbered into the forest.
A second of silence ruled over the clearing. It mixed with the stench of death and blood, remaining unbroken until Anna burst from the darkness. Blood splattered beneath her feet as she ran out, extending her hands toward Arwin.
Golden energy washed out from them and swirled through the air, pouring into his body. Anna didn’t wait to see its effect. She spun to Reya, horror mapped on her features. All the energy that had been flooding through Reya vanished and she nearly collapsed on the spot.
“I’m fine,” Reya said with a weak smile, holding her hands up. “It’s not mine.”
Anna ignored her. She grabbed Reya’s shoulders and poured a wave of healing light into her. The wounds on her arms knitted closed and she breathed a sigh of relief. Anna didn’t stick around to see it. She was already on to Olive and Rodrick, checking to make sure they weren’t severely wounded.
The world felt lighter than it should have. Reya blinked furiously and squinted at Wyrmhunger. She was too tired to think properly. All she could do was stare. And, as if the Mesh itself took that as a challenge, a flicker of gold danced before Reya’s eyes.
Challenge: [Blood for the Blade] has been initiated.
[Blood for the Blade] – A weapon, driven by its connection to you, has pushed beyond its limits and become more. But, in becoming more, it is no longer the mere blade that you once wielded. Discover a way to master the Wyrmhunger’s power. Rewards: Unlock Wyrmhunger’s power to wield as you see fit. Failure to complete the Challenge will result in Wyrmhunger choosing a new wielder.
Milestone 1: Reunite with Wyrmhunger
Reward 1: Wyrmhunger
Milestone 2: Master Wyrmhunger
Reward 2: Full power over Wyrmhunger
“Huh,” Reya said, her voice tinny and distant to her own ears. “So that’s what a Challenge is.”
Then she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.