The Crimson Hold, my gilded cage ever since the Nightweavers took an interest in me, stood upon the only solid ground in the Heart's Quagmire. A primordial swamp, whispered to have been born from the planet's veins, where subterranean currents ran straight from Kaelyra's inner pathways—the same channels that had given rise to the Wave-Keeper, drawn from the heartblood of the planet's primordial corpse.
The Heart's Quagmire, a twisted wonderland that called to my other half as I grew, served more as a proving ground than anything else. Few who entered ever returned unscathed—or without the guidance of those who knew its secrets. I was always forbidden from venturing into its depths, not for my safety, but to keep me leashed.
Now that same calling, that unrelenting yearning to explore, surged through me as I once again stepped onto its outskirts. My squad and I had long since abandoned the main roads, cloaks forgotten in a ditch, slipping silently into the wilderness. The layout of this region was as clear as glass in my mind, shaped by both the families' education and my own study.
I knew of a great perch that overlooked the fortress; I had stumbled upon it during one of my many training excursions. Nestled within a grove of towering, vine-infested trees, I watched the place that held me captive. Below, Natasha set up a concealed camp with the squad. Satisfied with what I saw, I made my way down to the swampy floor.
At the base of my perch, I was greeted by the largest member of my squad. My latest creation waited, uncloaked, their hunched back revealing a cannon barrel fused into their spine. Vines and other plant growths threaded through it—some patching holes, most anchoring the weapon to their lower back.
I reached out, calling to it, "Let me get that bag now, Thark." Jealous stares from the rest of my unnamed creations prickled at me as Thark handed me a coarse sack, pride radiating off him in waves. I shook my head and stepped into the swamp, leaving Thark to endure the glares of the rest of my squad.
A short distance from the camp, I dumped the contents of the sack before me. Two corpses of mundane beasts tumbled out, roughly the same size—only their tails marked a real difference. The one with the bladed tail was the easiest to recognize; the commanders' basement had been filled with its lesser kin. I got lucky—this one was on the verge of awakening, and happily cleared his rodent problem.
The Strat, as they were known, sat beside the body of a peculiar squirrel—one that had eaten too many essence fruits and developed a proto-shard. It was a shame to have killed it, but madness had claimed it, and its body was already deteriorating.
Reaching into a hidden pocket within my clothes, I clutched the Essence Shard I had received. I could still channel through it, even though it wasn't fixed to a Foci. I synced the shard with my Core and dove deep within myself, visualizing the process I was about to conduct from start to finish.
My eyes snapped open as my essence surged toward the corpses. Skin and flesh peeled away, leaving pristine bones. The blood and mound of meat were pushed aside as I began to remold the skeletons. What had been two quickly became one: the squirrel's frame served as the base, while only the Strat's tail was preserved; the rest of its skeleton was repurposed to enhance the squirrel's form.
Before me now stood a sleek menace, its bladed tail gleaming. It was ready for the next step. I cast my senses into the swamp itself, reaching out to the hidden life it cradled. Few people truly knew of the death-attuned plant life—and the Heart's Quagmire held them all.
The Strat began to stir as I boiled the orb of blood. I added the meat, and my essence spurred it to melt and fuse. The thick, superheated blob of biomatter hovered before me, sweat beading across my skin. I pressed it onto the skeleton's frame, watching it wrap and cling like living clay, molding itself to every curve and joint.
Pausing for a moment to wipe the sweat from my brow, I admired my work, gazing upon the black-and-red figure before me. This next part would require my full focus; the Essence Shard burned in my hand as I gathered my will. I called to the swamp, to the seeds long dormant, to those that longed to see the sun in any form—and I gave them purpose.
The swamp answered in its own way. Seeds rained from the treetops, landing directly on the creature and sinking deep into the biomatter. Others pushed up from the ground or were flung from splashed water—each one striking the skeleton. I staggered as my spell ran its course, watching the cooling figure harden into a living statue.
I made my way back into camp, knowing the seeds would need some time to grow.
~
For the past week, her daily visitor had grown increasingly frustrated. Sightings of lurking shapes in the swamp's undergrowth and the continued destruction of the undead patrolling the perimeter were all they could rant about.
Today's visit proved just as entertaining. The sight of one of her captors so visibly stressed eased the tension Vora had carried since Nyth's awakening. The meetings had long since devolved into threats against her son's life and bitter ranting about the chaos gathering around the fortress. The pleasure of knowing Nyth was the cause of it all nearly drove her to reveal the truth.
From the corner of her cell, if she listened closely, she could hear the faint scrape of small claws digging through stone as if it were soil. It came from behind her, from the deepest shadows of her cage. The near-silent clatter of the floor splitting open brought a slow smile to Vora's face. She had known about the creature for days.
It had watched her for three days, probably scouting for her son. But now it was coming closer, and Vora could barely contain her excitement. The almost hesitant clatter of sharp claws made her whisper, "Come here, little one. Let me see what my son has created."
Now, without any hesitation, Vora watched a lithe, murky brown form preen proudly before her. It could easily be mistaken for a large squirrel, if one didn't pay close attention to its bladed tail and glowing eyes. Its preening form stiffened, and the glow in its eyes deepened to a rich, midnight blue.
The creature scurried closer and began to scale her chains. It examined each link and enchantment with a curiosity far larger than its small form. As it moved, its tail sliced, gouged, or repurposed the metal, and the suppression over Vora began to wane—only stopping when she whispered, "Enough, Nyth. Thank you."
The intense glow faded but didn't vanish. Vora watched as the small creature scampered up her body and settled on her shoulder. Only after it removed something from a concealed pouch on its stomach and placed it around her neck did the glow fade completely, settling into its normal bioluminescent shimmer.
The creature scurried back into the hole as Vora's attention shifted to the object hanging from her neck. No larger than an acorn and the color of polished bone, it dangled from a thin strand of woven fiber. Through the small opening she had created, she channeled her essence into it.
It soaked up her essence, but nothing happened. A sad sigh built in her chest—only for a small, quiet voice to come from the object: "Hi, Mom."