Caldor floated in an empty space of a deep blue - almost black - color. He opened his eyes to look around him, as little sparks looking like stars flashed in the distance. He walked on an invisible floor trying to reach one of them. Until he grasped it.

The little star was a curious thing, faintly glowing in Caldor’s hand. He felt some warmth from it, and slight movement, as if it breathed. The star rolled around his palm, doing little hops occasionally.

“Hello there, small friend. I wonder what you are?” Caldor sat down on nothing, and placed the little star over his knee as he grabbed a book entitled ‘Beast Glossary Vol. 3’ and started flipping through the pages.

“Caldor. Caldor… Caldor!” A voice echoed from behind him. His mother scolded him. “All you do is research but it never goes anywhere! Why don’t you publish something new already? If you lose this job there’s no way I can help you anymore.”

Tears welled in Caldors eyes as he stood up and looked to where the voice had come. More empty space greeted him. He sighed, sat down again and thought about his drafts, and said drafts dropped in front of him in a huge pile of parchment. He looked at them one by one.

“Every one of these is awful. There is nothing here to salvage. How can I publish a study while producing all this… crap?” He chastised himself.

Another voice shook him “Hey Master Stammers! What are you even doing here? Did Fiannah drop you and forget to pick you up? You should go check the dog house!” And then:

“Dude, come on.” Fiannah’s voice boomed above him now. “Do you think you got accepted into the guild because of what? Pity? The only one pitying you, is you man, I’m sorry. You need to publish it, mistakes and all. Not a single Lens ever published a perfect study”

The little star hopped on Caldor’s shoulder, it bounced up and down. He smiled a faint smile and said: “Hi, buddy. Do you also think I should accept all the mistakes I see in the works? Publish it regardless?”

The little star, Caldor noticed, now had a pair of stubby legs and one of arms. It made it look like it had a big belly, proportional to its size. Caldor laughed at that. The star turned to face him and vibrated in place, until a little round mouth popped open in its body and said, in a tiny voice: “Caldor… smart… Caldor… good… Caldor… good friends… good writer… not perfect… Fiannah perfect?”

He sighed as he responded, “no, she isn’t. I know what you’re trying to say. I feel confident whenever I finish a draft, little star. But every reread makes me hate it more and more… I wish I could get out of this inertia.”

The little star hopped in front of him. It crossed its little arms and said: “Caldor need be strong. Caldor need be headstrong. Caldor die otherwise.

“I’m sorry?” Caldor asked after the last sentence.

As a response, the little star started changing shape. Lumps appeared along its body as if something was trying to push itself out of it. It fell on all fours and grew in size, morphing into a feral creature with four feet. It walked on four paws, had feathers covering its body, the face of a giant land lizard and the wings of a giant storm carrier. It shrieked as Caldor panicked and fell to the invisible floor. It spoke in a voice that sounded like a waterfall crashing onto stone: “Caldor. Be strong and accept me. Accept me as I am. There’s no future for you, no guild, no friends, no home. Unless you imbue your life with my soul.”

– – – –

Wake up

Wake up

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Wake up

WakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeupWakeup

WAKE UP

"I am up… My head hurts. Where are we?"

Vents for air flow

"Right. I am so tired. I hope Fiannah isn't hurt. Why did you attack that man?"

Did you not hear him? He intends to kill us. He's made us, and now wants to unmake us as if we were just a failed experiment.

"He didn't seem openly hostile… he hurt me after you took control of me. Never do that again. In fact, please let me go, I am tired."

We are sorry, Caldor. We cannot. We need a host to move. Without you Durkhann will just end us. Do you think that's fair?

"I don't think anything. There's so much new information for me to process right now. Ordinarily I would be trembling with excitement after such discoveries, but I am just… exhausted. What even are you? Do you have a name?"

He calls us the Bestial Shell. We are… We are the result of the soul of God and a fiend joining together, but are neither of them.

"God, again. Which God? One of the eyes? An aspect? There are so many, but it seems Larawe worshiped only one."

There was only God. He is dead now and half of my essence is made of the dregs of his soul. We wish for nothing more than returning to our kingdom of heaven.

"He is dead? Were those hidden tools in the manifest I found involved in this? Like some form of weapon or something?"

"We do not know, our purpose now is to locate heaven. We need no more than that from the dead deity.

"If you're not him, what claim would you have to that? You said it yourself that you're a new being entirely. What about the fiend?"

Are you not entitled to your parents' legacy? We've come from him, should we not claim what was once his? As for the fiend…

"Yes?"

We have none of their direct memories, neither of them that is. We only inherited some imprinted knowledge, primitive facts of life and the universe. As well as… Insatiable urges.

"Urges? What do you mean?"

Being drawn to heaven, wishing incessantly to find it. The fiend seems to have left us a hunger for… art.

"I am not sure I follow"

We desire to consume art. It is like an ache that never stops and will only be subsided by artistic expression. We feel withdrawn from ecstasy and know, intuitively, art is the antidote.

"Any form of art?"

In song, mainly….

"I see. I still don't get all of it but I am so tired. We will talk about this more once my head hurts less."

Caldor?

"Yes?"

Would you sing for us?

"I am not much of a singer, I'm afraid."

That isn't a problem. As long as we can feel it.

"The only song I know by heart is one that was created to mock me and my friend. Will that do?"

Anything.

"Very well:

Here comes Master Stammers, in his journey he will thrive!

Stumbling into precious artifacts, how's he even alive?

Stammering, fumbling, tumbling, bumping it is a wonder his limbs are fine!

But be careful now for he is not alone!

Else his hound chews you to the bone

Lady Fiannah, the boundless oaf

To protect Stammers, that is her oath!

Touch him and she'll bite off your hand

But only if daddy don’t shout at her again!"

… Whoever made this doesn't seem to like either of you very much.

"I'm sure they're just intimidated by my impeccable report writing skills and our unwavering friendship."