Derek’s Secret Project

Derek led me down the stone stairs. He cracked the wooden door open, and it gave a creak. He led me inside, using the fire in the lantern to light the torches on the wall so that their dim light cast the furniture down there in an orange glow.

There was a dusty table in the back of the room under a noisy ventilator. A bookshelf stood between the wall and the dusty table. The bookshelf was lined with jars.

Derek took one of the jars down. He hesitated, looked at me doubtfully, then grabbed a second one.

He turned to face me. His features were orange and shadowy. “Homonculi,” he said, “that’s what I’ve been working on.”

There was a look of electricity on his face. He got that look in his eyes from time to time, a vibrant, barely-contained excitement.

“Whatever are homonculi?” I said.

“Little creatures, infused with certain elemental powers,” said Derek. He held up one of the jars at eye level. Inside, a tiny glowing man, jellyfish blue, pranced around in circles. “This little fellow is called Blueboy. Say hello, Blueboy.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Blueboy stopped prancing around long enough to pull down his glowing blue pants and point his glowing blue rear end at me.

“Afraid he’s not very polite,” said Derek, “but he’s very special. He can do lots of things. Blueboy possesses some of the primal energy of the universe. In face, he’s partially made of it.”

I shrugged. After all, we pachyderms are also possessed of some of the primal energy of the universe. Yet I couldn’t help but marvel at the little dancing man in the jar.

Most of the demigods in Sot Citadel forge only benign curiosities. These little creatures are only useful for entertainment. But this…a–what was it called?--homonculus–did it have some greater purpose?

The glass clinked as Derek tapped the jar twice with his fingernail.

“I won’t let him out,” he said, “I’m afraid he’ll be naughty.”

“Oh, I won’t be naughty,” said Blueboy, “now let me out, you big fat ugly jerk. Your ears are too big for your little face.”

I laughed, partially out of surprise at the sound of that tiny little voice, and partially because, well–was he talking about me or Derek? The same joke could have been made about either of us.

A pachyderm’s ears are big by design. Derek, on the other hand, just kind of had, well, an unfortunate face.

“Ha-ha,” said Derek dryly, his hands hanging over his hips, “funny, isn’t he.”

“Sorry,” I said, “he just caught me by surprise with that.”

“Anyway,” said Derek, “that’s nothing.” He slid Blueboy’s jar back on the shelf.

“Nothin?” Blueboy wailed in his mouse’s voice. “I’ll show you nothing, you son of a–”

But then he was gone, his voice muffled behind the other jars, which kept him hidden from view.

“You think that was cool,” said Derek, “wait ‘till I show you the Thermock.”