“Shit!” 

Darien almost wretched as he pushed the Wooden branch through the creatures' mouth, and an assortment of viscous fluids shot out, coating his hands liberally. He gagged, and shook his hand, clearing the worst of the thick gunk before placing the creature over the small campfire he’d created. He then stood with a groan and dipped his hands into the nearby stream, cleaning the rest of the goo from his hand. 

Satisfied he was no longer covered in a strange creatures' innards, he returned to the warmth of the fire and lay back with a groan, occasionally shuffling to turn the skewer over. 

The creature looked like an overgrown rat but instead of a thick layer of fur it was covered in small emerald scales and its head was short and blocky. Two thick teeth jutted out from its jaws. He couldn’t eat the whole thing, he’d previously discovered it was mildly poisonous, though the legs of the creature were relatively edible once cooked. The rest of the carcass he would use for bait later. 

Having nothing to do whilst the rat creature cooked, he made a quick gesture with his hand, his information screen appearing in front of him. 

-- 

Name: Darien Agason 

Age: 19 

Skills: 

Primary: Golemancy 2 

Secondary: Rift Magic 1 

-- 

He sighed. Usually, the screens would be significantly more detailed, listing things such as your health and stats among other things. Since his exile to the Exiled Plains however, he’d been forcefully shut out from the magic status system everyone back home had access to.  

All on account of his Rift Magic skill. It was a banned school of magic under the rules of the Inquisition who had instantly slapped him in cold iron on his 18th birthday when he had tested positive for it. It was a shame as he’d really been looking forward to his birthday.  

Now however he didn’t think he would be recalling his particularly fondly... 

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

He sighed and shook his head. There was no use dwelling on the past. It wouldn’t help him here. Instead, he would look towards the future. To survival. 

To getting back home. 

He reached over towards the creature roasting over the fire and lifted it away from the flames. A quick visual inspection showed its scales had gone from a vibrant green to a mix of browns and blacks. 

‘Probably safe to eat now.’ Darien thought to himself. He tore off one of the creatures' legs with a grunt of effort before taking a bite. It was a white meat and quite sinewy, not the best of tastes, but took another bite regardless. There was nothing else he could eat, and he was starving. 

He spent the next fifteen minutes eating the rest of the creatures' legs, pulling them from its carcass. Eventually all he was left with was the torso and head, which he threw to the side for later use as bait. Basking in the warmth of the dying campfire, He spent the rest of his time planning and consolidating what he had learnt about surviving this place. Occasionally he added more tinder to the flames to keep it going but as the hour grew later and the sky darkened he let the fire die. His eyes were growing heavy, and he didn’t want to risk any large predators seeing the light from the fire overnight and investigating. Not that he had seen any monsters, mind you. Only thing around here was the weird rat thing. 

Illuminated now by only the dim, smouldering embers he shuffled over to where he had made himself a makeshift bed. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, made only from a sheet of thin fabric the Inquisition has given him before they’d Exiled him here. He had no mattress either, only a patch where he had cleared out the worst of the gravel to sleep on the solid bleached stone. It wasn’t luxury, and it was likely prolonged use would give him spinal problems, but he saw no alternative to it currently. He drifted off to sleep slowly, his mind wandering before coming to an eventual rest. 

A crash of rolling thunder woke Darien suddenly. 

He shot out of bed, panicked to see that his surroundings were different from where he had gone to sleep. Where there had once been a flat, uninterrupted plain of bleached rock under a violent and boiling purple sky, there now only existed a narrow outcropping of stone. But that wasn’t what truly frightened him. 

In front of him were eight giant tentacles, stretching up as far as he could see, their tops shrouded by dense fog and the bottom by darkness itself. They swayed idly in an unfelt wind, shifting back and forth. Lumps and bumps marked its surface like giant suckers. 

The air seemed to vibrate around him, and Darien was under the distinct impression he was being watched, evaluated, and observed. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine. The presence felt ancient but there was something else to it. It was almost like malice, though it did not feel aimed at him. 

A short, sharp pain in his head caused him to almost cry out, but he found himself unable to move or speak, paralysed on the precipice of a rock outcropping before the presence of a being far, far older than Darien knew possible. 

Finally, it spoke, its gravelly voice vibrating in his head. 

“MORTAL.” It began, “I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU.”