I was always good with women, but I never thought I would steal the heart of a goddess. All it takes is the right equipment. In this case, I had to employ a master thief from the primordial, a magical hammer, and a chisel liberated from a kingdom of dwarves. I still have no idea what kind of metal that chisel was made of, but for it to break the skin of a goddess, even a dead one, is impressive. A side note: my apologies to the elves; their gods were worse than ours. Thankfully, they are just as dead. - Reflections of Lysander of the Lucent

Darian watched from the house's porch as Lys drew an ever larger ritual circle on the ground. He’s been at it for hours now. The spiraling pattern of runes was complex, and Lys was expanding it. He used a branch, one end smoldering a deep red, to inscribe the runes.

Finally, the branch in Lys’s hand vanished, and he stepped over the runes, quickly checking for mistakes. He nodded his head before looking up at Darian. “Do not step on any of the runes. If these get messed up, getting back could get interesting.”

Darian nodded as he took slow and careful steps down the stairs and across the field of runes carved into the ground. “What happens if an animal comes along and messes them up while we're in the plains,” he couldn’t keep the nervousness from his voice.

“Then getting back gets interesting,” Lys said blandly.

“How interesting?”

A crooked smile crept onto Lys’s lips, “Like ending up in the middle of nowhere, most likely at the bottom of an ocean. That kind of interesting.”

Darian gulped, “Oh.”

“Now, what have I warned you about,” demanded Lys. His smile was gone, replaced by a blank, hard stare.

“Stay close to you. I’m not to talk until a deal is struck, and never trust a primordial, especially once a deal is struck,” recited Darian.

“What did Jainus have to say on the subject of Primordials?”

Darian wrinkled his brow as he remembered the passage in a very large book that had briefly mentioned the subject. “They can’t lie, but they are masters at deception.” The contradiction made no sense to Darian, but it was what the book had said.

“They don’t lie,” Lys emphasized the word, “It's a subtle but important distinction. What else?”

“The more valuable the trade, the more likely they are to treat you honestly.” Darian paused before shrugging; that was all he could remember. He’d read the passage quite quickly but did not understand most of it. The biggest thing that Jainus tried to convey was how backward primordials were.

“What was the lesson?”

Darian explained how conflicting primordials seemed, “It doesn’t make sense. Why would they act so differently if they're smart like us?” He made it to the center of the ritual circle and now stood next to Lys.

“It is in their nature,” said Lys.

“That still makes no sense.”

“That is my point,” Lys ran a hand across his grey beard. “Just because we don’t understand the reason for their actions doesn’t mean they don’t have any. Remember that.”

A tiny flash of power tickled Darian’s sense; it was the feeling he got every time Lys made something appear out of nowhere.

Lys held a large black stone. It looked like it was made up of three teardrop sections, all melding into each other. It made Darian think of obsidian, but he noticed the inky blackness swirling under its clear surface as he watched it closer.

“I’ve never seen a stone like that,” Darian said with awe. He could feel something radiating off the stone. Power pulsed off it in waves, following the rhythm of a beating heart.

A sly smile crossed Lys’s face, “You wouldn’t believe where I got it from.”

Entranced by the beating rhythm of power, Darian didn’t respond. There was something strange, alien almost, about the power beating from the stone. That's when it clicked, The ring! The ring his mother had left with Lys had been made of the same material as this stone. Darian had utterly forgotten about the ring. Another question to ask Lys. Another pulse of power interrupted his thoughts as Lys began to channel a spell.

Darian paid close attention, trying to glean as much information as possible. It was strange. He could feel a steady flow of power centered around the beating stone, but he could still only catch the occasional sound of a note or the distant and garbled scent. Darian tried his best to reign in his frustration. It was only a matter of time. If you live, that is… It was a bitter thought, but the realization of where they were going and why was beginning to strike home.

Darian watched, shifting from foot to foot as the minutes passed. He didn’t dare move from where he stood for fear of disturbing Lys’s concentration or damaging the ritual circle that surrounded them. Finally, a surge of power and a tearing sensation echoed throughout their surroundings. Darian winced in sympathy. In sympathy for what he wasn’t sure, maybe for reality itself.

An opening had appeared in the air, partially embedded into the ground. The portal was completely opaque, and Darian could only see a dull, blurred image of what lay beyond. The portal's edges rippled like disturbed water, and distant lights twinkled among the ripples of distorted reality.

“Do not touch the edges,” growled Lys.

“Why not,” asked Darian.

“Because whatever you touch them with will end up in a very different place than the rest of you.”

Darian gulped and nodded.

“Let's get this done. Remember, focus on the ground in front of you, and don’t look at the horizon.” With that, Lys strode through the portal.

Darian followed close behind him, stepping through the portal slowly and deliberately. The sensation was strange. It felt like he was pressing against water, whose surface refused to break. A cool sensation embraced his entire body, covering him from head to toe, seeping through his clothes, past his skin, and somehow feeling like it sunk deeper than his bones.

The pressure broke as his foot hit soft earth, and his senses were lit on fire.

He stumbled, almost falling. His vision swam as he tried to focus on something, on anything. His nose was being bombarded by a menagerie of smells. Darian felt like he could hear everything within miles. The very air tickled and stung his skin. It felt like Darian had just stepped into a river of raw magic, and it was drowning him.

A hand covered his eyes. Lys’s calm voice broke through the assault on his senses. “Focus on my voice; I’ll walk you through this.” Slowly, Lys calmed Darian down, helping him gain some semblance of control as his body slowly adjusted to the environment.

Time felt strange here, and when Lys was done and Darian calm and somewhat functional, Darian couldn’t be sure if they’d been there for minutes or hours. The moment seemed to stretch on and on, only for the future to be compressed, or was it the moment being compressed while the future stretched out in front of him?

“Sit.” It was a simple command, one Darian had already followed before it was spoken. “Stay.” Darian focused on the one-word commands as he curled into a ball, wrapping his head in his hands.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Not very impressive, Lysander.” The voice was smooth and haughty. The sound assaulted Darian’s senses, nearly making him lose control of himself again.

“I’ve come to parlay Kelanthrian. Raise a barrier so that my student doesn’t die.”

“Already demanding favors of me.”

“Any parlay I bring is well worth the trouble. Raise the barrier and let us get to business.”

“I don’t think I want to,” pouted the voice, “Seeing humans squirm is so much fun. Besides, why don’t you do it? Even with your… affliction, you are more than capable.”

“Do you want to bargain or not? There are others I can trade with. Others that will be more than happy to deal with me.” The growl in Lys’s voice shook Darian’s world, vibrating out across earth and stone.

“Very well,” the voice said with a sigh.

Cool relief flooded over Darian, and the assault on his senses died like the dousing of a torch. He took in a gasping breath of air.

“Easy lad, move slowly.” It was Lys’s voice, calm and close at hand.

“What was that,” croaked Darian.

“That is why I don’t like being in the Primordial Plain. It gets more manageable the more magic you’ve been exposed to.”

Darian slowly started to push himself up, and Lys’s strong hand clasped his shoulder, which helped steady him as he stood. “Why do I always end up on the ground?”

A soft laugh caught his attention, and Darian turned to see a tall, thin figure garbed in a cloak of midnight. Large white eyes peered back at him unblinkingly. The rest of the face was reminiscent of an owl's beak.

“Let's get to business Kelanthrian,” Lys said. “You know what I’m after.”

“Come now, old friend,” cooed the figure. “You’ve yet to introduce me to your student.” His head extended towards Darian, rotating left and right as he eyed him. Darian could barely stop himself from scrambling back across the ground as the primordial, who Darian could only assume was Kelanthrian, approached him.

Slowly a taloned hand so black that it looked to be sucking in the light around it extended from the midnight robes. It reached for Darian, and as it grew near, it felt like it had begun to pull him in.

“Enough,” barked Lys as he stepped between Darian and the tall primordial. “To you accept parlay under our regular terms?”

The growl that escaped Kelanthrian vibrated the air, but to Darian’s relief, he backed away. “Very well, our usual terms.”

Lys nodded. “You have what I requested?”

“I do. They are simple trinkets and baubles; most have been in my collection for a great deal of time if you judge time by material standards, that is. How do you intend to pay me for services rendered, Lysander?”

Darian felt another faint pulse of power as a small silver disk on a delicate chain appeared in Lys’s hand. “I bring you the pocket watch of the captain of the Dawn Sail.”

“A… pocket watch,” Kelanthrian asked, puzzlement in his voice.

“It's a small clock that fits in a pocket.”

Somehow, Kelanthrian’s large white eyes grew even bigger, and he extended another black talon, reaching out to take the chain from Lys. “This came with your ancestors from beyond—”

“From beyond the veil.”

Kelanthrian’s hand began to shake. Another hand extended from inside the robe. He ran the tip of a finger along the edge of the silver disc, caressing it gently. Before holding it back out for Lys to take, “How does it work?”

Lys took it and pressed down on a small nob at the top. The face of the disc sprung open, revealing a glass face covering three tiny gold arms, all pointed towards a tiny number twelve. Darian couldn’t quite see what Lys was doing, but after a moment, he showed the watch to Kelanthrian, and to both their surprise, one of the arms was moving. Ticking from number to number.

“Marvelous,” whispered Kelanthrian. He gently took the watch back, slowly turning it over in his taloned hands as he inspected it more closely. “I sense no magic. How does it work without magic?”

“It's mechanical. Our ancestors didn’t have magic, but they did have an understanding of the simple laws that seem to govern our world.”

Despite Kelanthrian’s alien appearance and lack of body language, it was becoming obvious how badly he wanted the watch. Which is why Darian was surprised when he offered it back to Lys.

“Take it,” his voice was full of annoyance. “I refuse your offer. There are many I would never indebt myself to, and you are very high on that list.”

Lys chuckled darkly, “I’m an old man who has long passed his prime. Why fear me?”

“You may be past your prime god slayer, but you are far from harmless. I will not give you a rope with which to strangle me.“

God slayer. Darian rocked back at those two words, looking at Lys in puzzlement.

“Different terms then. The watch for the requested materials and aid for the boy,” Lys’s voice had gone cold and hard.

“What kind of aid,” demanded Kelanthrian.

“Knowledge,” Lys said flatly, “It must be useful in the long term and free of any future entanglements. As for the specifics, anything I cannot teach the boy will work.”

Kelanthrian’s large white eyes focused on Darian. “Agreeable, on one condition: you will not learn what I give the boy. It stays with him.”

“I will not seek to glean what you give the boy, but he must be free to do with it as he pleases, short of teaching me.”

There was a pause as Kelanthrian rotated his head back and forth, “Agreed.” At that, Lys offered the watch, which was quickly snatched up by a black-taloned hand that disappeared back into his robes. Then the primordial straightened to his full height, seemingly growing taller and taller until he easily stood three times as tall as Lys.

Four arms extended from the inside of his robes. Three of them grasped the edge of his cloak while the fourth’s talons extended into long, razor-sharp knives. He cut a square of fabric from the cloth. Folding it onto itself repeatedly. Despite the folds, it grew in thickness. The action and result didn’t line up, but Darian was beginning to think that up might as well be down or sideways here.

Once the bundle of cloth was several inches thick, Kelanthrian raised the fabric to his mouth and began singing into it. The obtuse bundle tightened, wrinkles straightened out, and it formed itself into the shape of a book. He ran a talon across the front, cutting open the cloth and pulling it back to reveal a book. It was simple-looking—a plain book bound in smooth brown leather.

Kelanthrian offered the book to Darian, who hesitantly took it.

It felt warm in his hands, and as he ran a hand over its surface, feeling the smooth texture, spots of light appeared on its surface—oranges, reds, purples, and whites—all small specs that winked up at him.

Darian went to open the book but hesitated before looking to Lys, who nodded in affirmation. The book opened eagerly, revealing pages of strange blocky script. Darian wrinkled his brow in confusion, “I can’t read this.”

Kelanthrian sighed, “That is not the full payment. There is a second part, one that we are both going to dislike, little mortal.” He motioned for Darian to come closer.

Darian looked to Lys again, and once he received a nod, he slowly approached the imposing figure of Kelanthrian. Darian had to lean his head back to keep his face in view as Kelanthrian loomed over him.

“This is going to be unpleasant for the both of us mortal,” Darian barely had time to process his words before talons clasped him around the throat. The primordial's clutch was unyielding as he lifted Darian up towards his face, and to Darian’s horror, a triangular opening appeared in the middle of his face.

Darian would have called it a mouth despite the third lip. Disturbingly human-like teeth parted to reveal a long, thin tongue. Another hand grasped the side of Darian’s jaw forcing his mouth open. Darian’s mind screamed at the contact. Despite the alien appearance of the appendages, they felt like the soft flesh of another human.

His skin was crawling. Already, he could feel his mind locking up due to the forced contact. He struggled in Kelanthrian’s unbreakable grip. He couldn’t escape. Panic engulfed him as that mouth, and the wiggling pink tongue grew closer and closer. Finally, Kelanthrian leaned down, closing the distance between himself.

Darian felt the tongue enter his mouth.

Slimy and cold. It quested around his mouth, then reached further.

He wanted to vomit, but his own body refused to listen. Tears began to leak from his eyes, and he tried to find Lys, but he was out of view. Darian tried to move his arms and found them pinned to his side, both wrists held by Kelanthrian. He kicked at the primordial but he might as well have been kicking stone for all the good it did him.

It grew worse as he felt the tongue touch the back of his throat. He felt the tongue split into finer strands of flesh. Strands that pierced through his throat and struck bone. Pain lanced through his head, so intense his vision flashed white. Kelanthrian dropped him, backing away as he wiped at his face.

“Disgusting mortals, Gah!”

Darian crumpled as he hit the ground. The pain in his head was a minor thing. He slowly curled into a ball, trying to protect himself. Something touched his shoulder, and he flinched away from it. He wanted to run. To hide. To do anything but be there.

“Darian,” It was Lys’s voice, soft and quiet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was what he intended to do.”

Darian tried to speak, but a garbled sob came out instead of words, and he began to shake.

“I did not know your student would have such a… strong reaction to being given the gift of tongues.”

“He doesn’t like being touched, and what you just did was far more than simple unwanted contact.”

“The ones responsible have been… dealt with?”

“Darian’s state is a result of neglect, not abuse.”

Darian tuned out the rest of their conversation, doing his best to retreat into himself.

Doing his best to flee from the world.