An icy chill rippled across Whisper’s scaled hide, stirring the fae from their slumber. Groggily, they lifted their head and sniffed the air. It smelled faintly of rotted soil and old, coagulated blood. Whisper closed their eyes, opened their sixth sense, and listened to what the magic was telling them. The fae’s mind merged with the aether, the plane on which all magic existed, and was unnerved by what they saw. The aether was alight with competing magics of many shapes and colors. The strongest of which was not a color at all, but a black hole, slowly pulling the others into its all-consuming void.
Whisper’s eyes snapped open as realization shot down their spine like a jolt of cold lightning — the monster was near.
By all rights, Whisper should have leapt up out of bed, shifted to a faster form, and jetted out across the underground city to help, but the fae hesitated. The chill continued to creep along their spine, lifting each quill on end. The nameless one’s power should not have been able to infiltrate the priestess’s protection charm, and yet, here it was, turning Whisper’s blood to ice. If the pull was already this strong, Whisper feared what they would encounter the moment they stepped outside Priestess Oreword’s domain.
Sudden heat pinpricked the insides of Whisper’s scaled hands. The fae leapt up out of bed, cursing as they wrung the sting from their fingers and scurried for the door. Damn fae contracts! Unlike mortal kind, fulfilling a deal was not a matter of honor, pride, or outstanding moral convictions. Contracts between fae were magic-bound. For Whisper, specifically, it meant hesitating to uphold their agreement any longer would result in debilitating pain. It would keep at it too, increasing intensity until the fae was forced to comply.
Whisper slipped out the door into the nauseatingly bright hallway and broke into a sprint. They saw two guards headed their way, to inform them that the beast had arrived, no doubt. But the fae paid the pair no mind. Whisper leapt into the air and shook off the confines of their corporeal body, hurtling past the stunned guards as a shifting cloud of dark blue smoke. The airborne fae followed the twist and turn of the hallway until they reached an open window and shot out into the still air above the underground city.
The nameless one’s magic amplified tenfold. Its icy chill nipped at the fae’s proverbial heels, searching for a way to burrow inside, but without a corporeal form, the magic had nothing to latch on to. Whisper set their sights on the coliseum and jetted towards it. The arena was still a ways off, but with the gap steadily closing, they were certain they could reach the boy from such range.
Whisper channeled their thoughts into the unsuspecting human’s head, silently steeling themself for the emotional backlash that often accompanied entering the unhinged abyss known as Rasp’s collective conscience.
Little bird? Whisper called out to him.
Whisper’s incorporeal particles spasmed the moment their consciousness fused with Rasp’s thoughts. Their phantom form went rigid with shock, unable to scream. Whisper wasn’t connected to just one mind, but thousands. There were no intelligible thoughts, only dark and light, warm and cold, and an unsettling squiggly sensation, like maggots wriggling beneath skin. Whisper’s consciousness was stretched too far, too tight. The fae dropped from the air, their phantom form involuntarily shifting as they plummeted towards the ground.
Whisper struck a decayed rooftop before rolling off and landing into a puddle of wet, mossy muck in what remained of the alley below. Panicked, they severed their telepathic connection, rapidly untangling their thoughts from Rasp’s mind and whatever in chaos the damn boy was currently connected to.
“Wet,” Whisper snarled as they staggered to their feet, shaking off the cold slime clinging to their quills. Alas, while the wet itself was gone, the infernal squirmy sensation remained. The fae’s quills bristled in disgust. “Why do I feel damp inside and out?”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Whatever unpleasant spell Rasp was wielding, it had to have been working. The nameless one’s magic stirred the surrounding air, angry and restless. On some minuscule level, Whisper understood the monster’s frustration. The boy had all the makings of an easy meal — unimaginable power, a startling lack of ability, and the sort of impulsivity that often led to an early grave. And yet, Rasp was no babe in the woods. He’d sooner dive down your open gullet and choke you to death from the inside than go down easily.
Shaking the stubborn chill from their scaled hands, Whisper was about to shift forms when a pleasant voice whispered in their ear. There you are, O Mighty One. We’ve been calling all these years. Why have you ignored us so?
Whisper’s quills rattled together as a blanket of frosty air enveloped their body. The cold sting seeped between the cracks in their armored scales and permeated deep within the flesh. “Given up the boy already, have you?” Whisper bared their needled teeth at the disembodied voice. Its soothing tone grated the inside of the fae’s ears like teeth clipping a metal spoon. “I’ll give you more trouble than he will.”
We’re not here for the boy.
A likely story. Whisper had no doubt that the nameless one was beginning to realize it’d bit off more than it could chew. As foolish and inexperienced as he may have been, Rasp possessed a unique talent for ruining even the best-laid plans. The monster had realized this and set its sights on a different meal, one not only rife with power, but weakened by iron poisoning.
But Whisper was no easy meal. The priestess's healing magic had returned the fae to their former strength.
“Is it me you seek, then?” Whisper asked.
Of course, O Great One. We have awaited you for centuries.
How flattering.
“Then you seek not food, but death.” Whisper leapt from the ground, wind whipping around them, propelling them higher, and shifted into a shapeless cloud.
It was too late. Mild panic surged across Whisper’s particles at the realization that the nameless one had already latched on. Its silken voice rippled across Whisper’s racing thoughts, soothing the panic as its frosty chill seeped deeper. All we’ve ever wanted is for you to come home. It was no longer one voice, but many. Their familiarity stirred old memories of a bygone era. Why must you keep fighting us?
Whisper could feel the monster shuffling through their memories as idly as a student perusing category cards in the library. The nameless one was searching for a weakness. Whisper would have to act before it found one. Their incorporeal form zipped through the air, their particles growing colder as the gap between them and the nameless one steadily closed.
A mental door creaked open and light flooded into an unvisited corner of Whisper’s memory. Whisper flinched, trying to shut the monster out, but it seeped under the door regardless.
Oh, stubborn D’zeahr, the voices crooned. You cannot fight us any more than you can fight your guilty conscience.
Get out of my head! Whisper screamed.
You need not make amends to those you lost. We’re already here, D’zeahr. Waiting for you.
How dare the monster use their true name! Fury burned within Whisper’s phantasmal manifestation as their particles shifted, taking on the shape of their most powerful form. If the nameless one wanted mighty, then mighty it would get!
The snarl that worked its way up Whisper’s scaled throat erupted out of their jagged maw as a roar. Their powerful wings lifted them high, higher, higher, stirring the musty air as the coliseum grew smaller below. Fury boiled inside of them. With a final snap of their lethal jaws, Whisper dove, dropping towards the crumbled arena below, set on destroying the parasitical voice that slowly chipped away at their control.
No more fighting. No more fuss. Your people have forgiven you, the silken voice crooned as the chill wormed deeper, flooding Whisper’s bones. The gentle words soothed the years of hurt, the ache and burn of regret eased as Whisper’s internal rage began to flicker out. It’s time to come home. We are waiting.