Pearl reels back and gasps in shock. It’s a stronger reaction than what I thought, what with how calm she’s been through all this.
“I’m not ready to go public.” She whispers. “It’ll put all of us in danger. Really, really bad danger. Someone will want me for a… collection, or some twisted research, or… or… bad things! A ton of really bad things!”
I can’t argue. All I can do is hope that they don’t think I’ve been talking to an actual Shellraiser this entire time, but that… well… I don’t know how else they could take it. But I know my first instinct wouldn’t be to assume someone was talking to an extinct species. Maybe theirs won’t be either, and they’ll manage to think their way away from the truth.
And then… there’s the nuclear option. I flip Illumisia’s relocation coin out of my bracer and grip it hard in my palm. She’d be able to deal with it in a few seconds. There’s no real reason not to, honestly. Yeah. None at all.
Still, I don’t activate the spell. Not for any good reason, either–everything is telling me that this is the right way to go. But something’s stopping me from doing it. If I wasn’t so used to having an awareness, I wouldn’t even notice the strangeness buzzing in the corner of my mind. It feels like a coin spinning in the air, over and over and over and over… well, infinitely.
It’s the exact same sensation as using Twist Fate, but in real-time. Almost like my skill isn’t letting me make this decision. But the only reason I could think for that is… that siccing Illumisia on those masked assholes would lead to us not getting the quest.
The sensation dies. My back straightens on reflex, and I feel my jaw clenched just a little too tight for comfort. I try to summon Illumisia again, because Pearl’s safety is more important than a damn quest, but… it still doesn’t work. My own skill is railroading me into a specific decision. That’s goddamn terrifying.
“We’ll do something about it.” I clutch the coin in my hand and try one last time to summon Illumisia. Nothing happens. “Just not the easiest option for some damn reason.”
Pearl tilts her head to the side in confusion while in the middle of a mild panic. She doesn’t say anything, though, just glances down at the coin in my hand and laces her fingers together. I know by the look on her face that she wants to ask a question, but from how it twists and distorts while I walk back to the monster, something else stops her.
Just before I retract the barrier, she frowns and finally opens her mouth. “I can’t ask the question I want to ask. You should know what question that is. Why can’t I ask it?”
I grimace and dispel the shield with a thought. “Twist Fate doesn’t want that happening for some reason. And, apparently, you just asking that question would screw with the outcome I asked it to lead us down.”
“Oh. Your skill’s stronger than you are now.”
Pearl’s dropped bombshell slams down on me just before I set foot into the monster. “That’s a thing?”
She nods. “We had it way back when, too, but with regular magic. If someone cast something like… um… let’s say a navigation spell, but they were weaker than the spell. Instead of showing them the way, it would force them onto a path and keep them on it. That’s probably exactly what’s happening to you right now.”
A grimace pulls on my lips. “So I’m stuck on this path until we actually investigate all these things. Or… maybe when I actually find the quest. Do I just need more Soul so it won’t do this?”
“Doesn’t that skill scale with Fate, not Soul?”
“Same difference. Do I need more Fate so I control the skill, not the other way around? Shit… have I been in control of any of my actions since I flipped those coins? Are any of these thoughts implanted by the skill?”
Pearl raises an eyebrow. “You noticed the skill’s effect the moment you tried to do anything it didn’t want. I only noticed them right now, too. So I think at least one of us would’ve noticed before if the skill was actually controlling you, not just limiting your options.”
Yeah. Definitely. That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation that I’m going to cling to out of a mixture of fear, anger, and a pinch of denial. Pearl’s probably right. And if she isn’t… then I need to find this quest as soon as possible and not use Twist Fate until I have a bunch more stat points under my belt.
To do that, I need Clutter. So I push all those negative feelings and thoughts off to the side, press my hand against the side of the monster, and duck into it. Clutter whips around as soon as my foot squelches against a… squelchier inside than I remember, and he sighs with such relief that I almost feel a little bad for taking so long.
Except for the fact that he could’ve turned around at any time and seen that I was fine and well.
“Shelby! Thank goodness you’re okay. What happened?” He asks without moving from where he sits. “I felt some weird things out there; did the farmers actually have a Harvester and a Biomancer with them? Because it didn’t feel like they had any full-classes with them when they were yelling at me.”
I stop and blink in surprise. “You could tell what classes they had? From in here?”
Clutter puffs out his chest with pride. “It’s one of the skills I worked the hardest for: Spell Catalogue. When someone uses a spell, I instantly know what Classes can use the spell, and I can use a lot of mana to get more info. For those spells, they could only be used by a Biomancer and a Harvester.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Biomancer and Harvester.” I repeat, images of the mossy blast and the sick, twisting hand flashing in my mind. “Sounds about right to me. They disappeared right after they attacked me. Did that trigger your skill?”
He vigorously shakes his head. “Nope. And it triggers for every spell, no matter how strong it is–so it wasn’t a spell. Unless they have a spell that is invisible to skill, or a spell that makes spells invisible to skills…” He trails off with a frown. “But if they have that, why wouldn’t they hide all their spells? Running away and leaving partial information behind is just weird.”
I suck air in through my teeth. “Yeah, about that… they didn’t run away. I got my ass handed to me, but in a less ‘beat me ‘till I’m bloody’ kind of way.”
“Really?” Clutter narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve met. How could they beat you so easily?”
“That’s a question we need to find the answer to very soon, my friend.” I pat him on the shoulder with a grim chuckle, then gesture down at the egg. “Is it just me, or is that thing twice as big compared to when I left?”
The egg–more plasticy than ever–pulses twice. For a second, I think that it just answered me, but then it does the exact same thump-thump pulse again. Clutter and I stare at it for a dozen seconds, and I swear I can see it getting a little bigger by the second.
“I think it is.” He eventually confirms, but not with confidence. “There’s definitely something getting bigger in there, and I think it’s whatever we’re looking for. Can you use your… thing… to check and see if it’s ready yet?”
Before I can say anything, Pearl shakes her head. “It isn’t, but it’s much more solid than before. If it keeps growing like this, it’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
I nod a little and reiterate the information to Clutter. He scratches his chin in thought, all the while making a strange noise deep in his throat that sounds like a combination of a whine and a gurgle.
“Fifteen minutes. Compare that to how big it was when it started, and with how weird this monster is…” He looks over his shoulder at the opening, then nods to himself. “I think someone made this thing. Or… well… how do I put this… it tried to make this thing.”
I snort in amusement. “What part of this wonderful creature doesn’t look natural to you?”
“All of it.” He says seriously. “The bones, the body, the organs… it’s like someone made a list of the vital parts for this thing, then mashed them all together without any of the connective stuff. I bet it's going to be a part of the quest, and this is just a little teaser that got sent out, but somehow it ended up out of phase with the rest of the world.”
“So, what, the quest’s going to lead us to some freak’s lab where they’re trying to make plastic replicas of sky-stomping monsters? I… yeah, I guess that kind of makes sense. Especially when you factor in the graveyard–was that just another failed attempt at making something?”
Clutter nods as he winces. “I think so. But knowing that doesn’t help us at all if we can’t trace the origins of the plastic to anything–and it makes it really confusing that I found most of the plastic up until now in random rocks. Is it… two kinds of the stuff? Or is the rock plastic the same as this–”
He gently pats the egg for emphasis.
“–just not given anything to imitate?”
I don’t have an answer for him. He still looks at me for input, as if I’ll somehow know more on the subject that he’s been researching for months. All I can offer him is a sympathetic shrug and a half-cocked apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I don’t have a clue.”
For some reason, that seems to disappoint him. He sighs and leans close to the egg, wraps his arms around it, and gently touches the side of his face to it. I resist the urge to comment on the strange action, which he keeps doing for far too long. Instead, I just watch him pat and prod at the thing like a doctor would with a strangely still patient.
The egg keeps growing. At first it’s barely noticeable, but as the minutes pass, Clutter’s arms no longer wrap around the entire thing. Once the ten minute mark hits he’s only hugging half of the egg, but he holds strong and keeps his face plastered against it. And as we creep closer and closer to the fifteen minute mark, the egg gets large enough that we have to scooch back multiple steps worth of space. If this keeps going on, the egg will definitely grow big enough to overtake the main body.
“It’s getting really close.” Pearl warns. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to get the thing, but it’s almost here.”
I lean in and tap Clutter on the shoulder. “Time’s almost up. Feel anything changing through face-to-egg contact?”
He turns his eyes to me, but nothing else. “A lot. But nothing really helpful. I don’t think anything else has just appeared inside of the egg, so… maybe it’s a timing thing? Or an observation thing?”
“That’s what we’re leaning towards. Now get back.” I gently pull him away from the egg. He acquiesces without hesitation. “We don’t know how this is going to go, so be ready to run.”
“I’m always ready to run.” He says innocently. It isn’t the reassurance he thinks it is.
I pull out two projectiles and a shield as I focus on the egg. Pearl hums quietly as she focuses everything on the egg, and I trust her to give me the exact right timing for this. Images of two weak projectiles that are extremely long-lasting and small, with just enough power to destroy the plastic egg, flow from my mind down into the coins.
Pearl’s head snaps abruptly to attention. “It’s in the exact center of the egg right… Now!”
At her signal, I let the projectiles fly. They shear through the plastic with ease, scouring away the eggshell and chunks of whatever it was protecting. Clutter whimpers and looks away from the admittedly grisly display, but I keep my eyes locked on the flying plastic for a glimpse at whatever’s in the center. If it’s a phase-thing, it’s the only way we’ll actually get our hands on it.
Slowly but surely and little by little, something starts to show itself. It starts off looking like a bunch of random stone shards, each exposed by my projectiles at different times. But as more gets revealed… it’s definitely a bunch of stone shards. Perfect, uniform, and sharpened into wicked points. I lean in between my projectiles and pull one out, then zip back as more of the egg breaks down before my eyes.
I inspect the simple, two-inch long spear of stone with a discerning eye. It feels like nothing to my awareness, but that’s to be expected considering where I’m standing. Strange thing is, the stone’s a perfect match for the stuff I got from the graveyard. Like, a one-to-one exact material replica. But how the hell did that happen?
“Hey, look!” Clutter lunges into the egg, ignoring my projectiles, and plucks something from the exact center of the egg. He rubs some plastic off of it, his earlier disgust seemingly forgotten, and holds it up to the light. “It says ‘Denmary Well’.”