[Controlling the Silver]
Kaylah sat across from Eris, her eyes glowing with quiet determination. The firelight flickered between them, casting long shadows on the cave walls.
"Can you feel it?" she asked softly.
Eris hesitated. His palm still tingled where the shard had melted into his skin. The silver in his blood pulsed like molten light, heavy and bright, threading through his veins.
"Yes," he admitted, his voice low. "But it's wild. Like a storm under my skin."
Kaylah leaned forward, resting her hands lightly over his.
Eris closed his eyes, feeling the silver's restless thrumming. It wanted out, like a beast pawing at its cage.
"Breathe," Kaylah's soft voice calming him.
"Control it, Eris," Kaylah urged, her voice resonated in Eris's mind, rather than being spoken aloud.
"Focus your will."
The silver pulsed, resisting, but Eris held firm.
Eris concentrated, his mind reaching out to the silver coursing through his veins. The metal responded, surging like liquid heat through his body, filling his lungs, and racing down his arms, but he was no longer in pain like he had been before(1).
Still, panic threatened to overwhelm him as he felt the silver's primal urge to take shape on its own, its essence whispering ancient hungers. It began to curl like claws at his fingertips, a manifestation of its wild, untamed power.
"Eris...", Kaylah whispered, "... do it, the way Elder Ruvio taught you."
Her voice flowed like a thread, a tether.
He reached for it, but the river seized his arms, trying to control him instead. He felt bones strain, muscles split, as if the water was forging him into something else.
Kaylah's firm grip on Eris's shoulders anchored him, her voice a steady guide. The firelight flickered between them, casting long shadows on the cave walls.
Eris exhaled, his grip on the silver unwavering. He could feel it now: the power, the maiden's blessing, the path ahead. It wasn't just about strength. It was about control.
"I can do this!" Eris muttered.
***
[Eris's Breakthrough]
The flicker inside him ruptured. Not stream, not current, but flood.
Silver burst from his veins, blinding, a torrent of light that seared the cavern walls and hissed in the beast's flesh. The air rippled. Shards of stone cracked loose from the ceiling, tumbling into the radiant surge.
He fell to his knees, veins blazing like rivers etched across stone. Silver dripped from his nose and mouth like molten metal. He gasped, clutching at the ground, unsure if he was still in his body.
The cave wall breathed silver. Threads pulsed faintly in the cracked floor, veins of light running through ancient stone as though the earth itself remembered the Spiral's call.
Eris knelt in the half-dark, palms pressed to the cold ground. His veins throbbed with silver fire; not the violent flood that once drowned him, but a steady, burning weight.
Then the dream maiden was there again, not as flesh, but as a whisper in his mind, a shimmer of silver light spiraling at the edges of thought.
"You carry my mark," she intoned, her voice gentle as a soft breeze. "Silver is not a tame thing. Talk to it gently. It answers the heart as much as the mind. Wield it with clarity. Don't rush it."
He inhaled deeply, his command a fierce, whispered vow to the silver. "You and I are bound now; our survival depends on it. We walk this path together, not as master and slave, but as partners. Work with me! Otherwise, we both lose ourselves."
As the words left him, the silver stirred in answer. The once feral pulse began to yield to his will. The claws receded, and the hunger quieted, giving way to a sense of tentative cooperation.
His focus sharpened, his connection to the silver deepening. Together, they began to forge a new harmony, one that would define their journey forward.
He drew a breath and willed the silver into stillness. The energy wavered, trembled, slowly and reluctantly, it obeyed. His veins glowed faintly in the darkness, soft instead of searing, like fire tempered into embers.
Insight came, not spoken, but understood. He saw the silver as threads, countless and waiting, woven through the earth and now through him. They could mend or destroy. Heal, or bind. They mirrored his will.
His eyes opened. Silver light flickered across his irises, not wild but steady.
"I… I think I got it," he said hoarsely. "It listens. But it listens to everything I feel. If I lose myself…"
"You won't," Kaylah said, though her voice trembled. She embraced Eris, grounding him with warmth. "If you waver, I'll pull you back. That's what I saw in the dream. That's what I'm meant for."
He almost laughed, but the memory of the flood silenced him, the torrent, the faces, the way it had nearly hollowed him. He steadied his breath.
***
[Shaping the Silver Threads]
A fragmented memory flashed in Eris' mind, fleeting and unclear. He saw himself as a child, brought to the tribe by Elder Ruvio. Something significant had happened that day, but the details remained shrouded in mist. One thing was certain, though – after that day, the tribe had begun calling him "River Boy." The name had stuck, a constant reminder of the wild, untamed power that flowed through him.
Then, Eris' mind reached back to the moment when he'd faced the glass-back beast, recalling the desperation that had driven him to reach inward, almost pleading with the River's power. Perhaps it was that same desperation that had resonated with the Spiral, sparking a surge of influence when he'd slicked the cavern floor beneath the beast's charge.
The beast slipped after that, the attack had receded, but the pressure and emotional intensity of the moment had triggered something latent within him. His veins responded, the silver stirring like a living thing. Whether the two events were linked remained unclear, even to himself.
What had seemed like luck, panic, or accident now took on a different meaning: the silver had answered his call, shaped by his will.
Eris sat cross-legged, his hands trembling above the floor. The memory of the flood still lingered beneath his skin, its presence palpable – the surge, the faces, the crushing weight. Fear and need wrestled within him, a potent mix.
"Steady," he muttered to himself. Then, he pressed deeper, began shaping the power that he wields.
The silver veins in his arms flickered, light pulsing with his heartbeat. He pressed his palm to the stone.
A ripple spread. The stone gleamed wet, slick. When he pulled back, his handprint had left the floor glistening as if drenched. He stood, testing his step — the ground slipped underfoot, the way he did when he faced the glass-back before.
But the shimmer faded quickly, the ground returning to dust.
He tried again, harder this time. The veins flared bright. Threads pushed out of him, scattering into the rock. Too many. Too wild.
Eris closed his eyes, his breath slow and steady. The silver in his blood pulsed, restless, like a storm waiting to break. He reached for it, shaping it like a blade. It answered his call, a living thing, a flood waiting to break.
The floor cracked open in jagged splinters, spraying shards across the cavern. Eris stumbled back, coughing blood. His eyes were tearing, and his nose ran silver.
Kaylah worriedly rushed to him. She urged Eris to stop, but he shook his head, wiping his face with a trembling hand.
Ignoring her protest, Eris knelt, his breathing deep and controlled.
He recalled the moment of clarity when the silver had slicked the ground to save him, and he pulled on that memory – not the panic, but the intent.
As he knelt in the cave, the silver in his veins pulsed like a storm. Eris reached for it, his mind shaping the energy. "Not a flood, not chaos," he thought, "... like a river, there's a path."
He repeated Kaylah's words to himself: "Shape it like you would bend a branch or breathe."
The silver threads stirred beneath the stone, flowing like a river. Eris clenched his jaw, forcing them into line. A single spike rose from the floor – crooked and brittle. It shattered after a breath. But it had shape.
Eris exhaled, his hands trembling. The silver answered his call, bending to his will. It was a start.
For the first time, his veins didn't tear; the silver was contained in his body.
He tried again. One spike. Then two. Then a jagged row. Each failed, collapsing into dust or shattering with the faintest touch. But with each attempt, his control grew steadier.
Hours passed. Sweat soaked him, his chest heaving, body screaming to stop.
The floor shivered. The silver veins in the stone quivered like strings plucked by unseen hands. Slowly, trembling, he tugged them into form.
The ground shimmered , then it grew teeth.
Tiny blades, no longer than a finger, they rose from the stone like frost made solid. Not like a wild river, not a flood, but deliberate knives protruding in rows, sharp enough to catch the dim light. They trembled, then steadied.
Finally, the silver threads settled under his will, not slick, not shattering, but forming. The floor sprouted a crown of small knives, trembling but sharp, catching the cavern's dim light.
They did not vanish. They waited.
Kaylah approached cautiously, running a finger over one blade. It pricked her skin. Real. Solid.
She looked at him; exhausted, pale, veins still glowing steady. "You're shaping it."
Eris swayed, nearly collapsing, but he smiled through his exhaustion. "I can weave it!" then, he laughed.
He rose, his hand still open to the floor. The knives sank back into the stone as if they had never been, leaving only faint glowing silver behind.
For the first time, he had not been a vessel. He had been a shaper.
The maiden's voice echoed in his mind, a whisper on the wind. "The silver can lift you beyond men, or drag you into the abyss of beasts. Your choice will shape not only you, but the world."
Her pained voice echoed one last time. "The path is long, and the shadows are many. Be careful, Eris."
His chest tightened. He remembered the Hollow King's body swallowed by creeping silver, the mutants howling in agony, their forms distorted.
He nodded, his grip on the silver unwavering.
Then, the light in his veins dimmed, leaving only a faint shimmer. Sweat clung to his brow. He felt both drained and renewed.
Kaela touched his arm, her eyes reflecting the silver glow. Not awe this time, but certainty.
She smiled faintly. "Not bad for your first try."
Eris, feeling weak, gave a dry laugh. "Not bad for surviving it."
The lesson was learned.
The journey had only just begun.
The fire crackled, casting long shadows on the cave walls. Outside, the wind howled, carrying the scent of rain and iron.
From the shadows, Ruvio mumbled to himself softly, feeling satisfied, "The boy had learned to weave… but how would he fare once fate plays with him?"
***
[The Fragment Seeker]
Outside the cave, under the steady, unforgiving rain, a Fragment Seeker stalked toward the entrance. He moved with a jerky, unnatural economy, his senses focused entirely on the metallic-sweet pulse he felt radiating from the earth. He was sniffing, his head low, like a hound on a trail. The Seeker was completely unaware that he was being watched.
Ruvio, cloaked in shadows that the torchlight couldn't touch, stood silent as stone beneath the ruined trees. The seeker was a threat, a vessel of warped power, yet Ruvio allowed him to pass, like a shepherd guiding a wolf to the flock.
Ruvio's gaze followed him into the cave's darkness. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. "Eris, through him, you will learn how to use the silver in your vein," he murmured to himself. He had to do it; the boy's power needed a brutal test, and Ruvio intended to provide it.
***