Chapter 515: Monsters (Patreon)

The spear shot into the air and flew across the Villa District, ripping through buildings in a high-pitched whistling noise. Svartna tore past the Mora estate and lanced straight through Xyloth’s elbow. The dragonbane flinched back and dropped Maeve. He roared in pain and held his limp bleeding arm.

Svartna landed in the mud two paces in front of its master, standing tall and proud, and covered in black ichor.

Faint, cold light leaked from Stryg’s blue skin. He slowly stood up and opened his eyes. His slit pupils were narrow and the lilac irises had expanded, covering the sclera. His vision had fallen into a world of black shades and silver rippling outlines. There was only one he saw, one being who held his attention.

The dragonbane.

Stryg reached out and seized Svartna. The cold touch of chaos mana flowed through his body and into the spear, bathing Svartna in a faint blue glow. 

Translucent flesh and grey muscles knitted themselves back together over Xyloth’s elbow. The black ichor covering his arm pulled back into the wound until there was nothing left, not even a blemish. He turned on Stryg, and his tail swiped the mansion’s wreckage, sending debris flying everywhere.

Maeve threw her hands over her head and curled in a ball as bricks and broken wood fell all around her. The sight of the vampiress cowering sent a pang of worry through Stryg, but it was drowned out by the cold primal sensation consuming him.

Xyloth stared at the small blue creature in mild confusion. He tried to draw in the goblin’s mana, but there was nothing left to feed upon, and yet there the goblin stood, overflowing with strange energies. The spear was somehow feeding him power. An instinctual hunger filled him and he snarled at his prey in envious greed.

Spreading his feet apart, the dragonbane planted his hands on the ground and roared. The ground shook from the deep below and sent tremors across the entire estate. Stryg glared at him and screamed an unnatural noise of unbridled rage. Maeve flinched at the ear-splitting sound and cried out in pain.

Xyloth charged him like a boulder hurtling down a hill with unstoppable force. Stryg didn’t turn, he dashed forward and met him head-on. Xyloth opened his maw wide, fangs glistening, and snapped his jaws out. At the last moment, Stryg rolled underneath, landed on one knee, and thrust Svartna upwards.

The spear pierced through the dragonbane’s thick flesh and hardened ebon ribs. The spearhead buried itself deep into his pulsating heart.

Xyloth shouted a guttural shriek and smacked Stryg away with the back of his giant hand. Stryg went flying like a trebuchet boulder and crashed into the ground. He tore through the cobblestone and left a deep groove in the ground.

The dragonbane prowled towards him and stretched out his claws. Stryg snapped open his eyes and leaped at him. His fist met Xyloth’s chest with an audible crack and sent the dragonbane tumbling back.

Xyloth gasped for air and looked up in surprise.

How had such a small creature managed to push him back? 

“Svartna,” said Stryg calmly. The spear flew back into his hand without missing a beat. 

Xyloth took a step forward and grimaced in pain. He glanced at the small fist-sized imprint on his chest where his sternum had caved in. Something was wrong. The pain wasn’t dissipating. The bones and muscles weren’t regenerating, nor was the stab wound; his heart wasn’t healing its injuries and remained lifeless. Black ichor oozed out from the spear wound without any sign of coagulation.

Xyloth glanced at his prey with newfound caution. The aura of light around Stryg was growing brighter and the silver light was leaking through his clothes now. The swirling rain around the estate was pulsating in a strange rhythm and was slowly picking up speed. 

The dragonbane took a step back and narrowed his ebon-black eyes. It wasn’t the spear feeding his prey power. There was something off about this creature.

“What are you waiting for!?” Stryg bared his teeth and hissed. 

Xyloth growled and lashed out with his barbed tail in a flashing strike. Stryg dodged the stinger and snatched the tail mid-strike. He gritted his teeth and pulled. Xyloth shouted in surprise as Stryg yanked him forward and threw him across the estate.

The massive beast flew through the air, his wings flailing about, and crashed into the manor’s wreckage in an explosion of debris. Stryg kicked off the ground and dashed at him with blinding speed.

He was atop Xyloth before he had a chance to get up. He grabbed Svartna with both hands and sank the spear into the dragonbane’s back. Xyloth roared in pain and snatched Stryg in his hand and tossed him away, his talons raking all over Stryg’s body.

Stryg skidded off the rubble like a skipping stone and landed near the stables. Blueberry called out to him in a worried whine, but the injured wolf’s voice fell on deaf ears. 

Stryg staggered to his feet. His skin had been torn across his body, exposing muscle and bone underneath. Dark purple blood seeped from the wounds. He cocked his head to the side with a grimace.

The light leaking from within flared and his skin began to writhe. Severed muscle fibers intertwined back with one another and cracked bones reaffixed themselves seamlessly. Blood vessels reconnected and blue skin knit itself together.

Stryg closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled coolly. “Svartna.”

The spear whizzed through the air and into his palm.

Xyloth circled him warily. The prey was not only fast, he was strong, and his regeneration seemed on par with his own. His Master had never spoken of a prey like this.

Stryg opened his eyes and his slit pupils constricted at the sight of the dragonbane. He gripped his spear and attacked, but this time Xyloth was ready. The dragonbane jumped back, evading the spear thrust, and slammed his hand down in an open-palm strike. Instead of dodging, Stryg held his ground and stabbed the spear straight into the giant palm. Black blood gushed over him as the spear severed tendons and veins, even as the palm crushed him underneath its weight.

The dragonbane yanked his hand away, ripping the spear clean off. Stryg jumped to his feet and lunged at Xyloth. He landed on the beast and shoved Svartna into his second heart. Xyloth roared a primal shriek and lashed out in a frenzy, tearing the cobblestone all around. Stryg jumped away and landed calmly on his feet. 

Xyloth staggered back and clutched at his bleeding chest. Ichor poured profusely out from the two wounds across his ribs. Neither heart was healing, nor were his ribs or the stab on his shoulder, whereas the small creature’s wounds regenerated in front of his eyes. Xyloth held his hand protectively over his last heart and stared at Stryg cagily. 

The small creature was practically brimming with silver-blue light now, like a bonfire in the dark. It was not like the others he had encountered in these lands, Xyloth realized. It was not a prey, it was another predator.

And it needed to die.

Xyloth inhaled deeply and his rib cage expanded. He opened his maw wide. Black and white void flames burned at the back of his throat. Without gestation, Stryg pulled his arm back and hurled Svartna. The spear whirred past in a blur and tore through the dragonbane’s neck.

Xyloth jerked back and coughed up black blood. He stumbled to the side and wheezed while choking on his blood. If he hadn’t moved at the last moment, the spear would have severed his spinal cord.

“Svartna.”

The word made Xyloth stiffen. His wounds weren’t healing and he was beginning to feel weakened by the loss of blood. He wheezed for breath, but blood kept filling his throat. For the first time in his life, panic rose within him. He needed to retreat, he needed to find his siblings.

Spreading his wings, Xyloth bent his legs, and leaped into the air.

“Get back here!” Stryg screamed and threw the spear after him.

Xyloth twisted his body, but the orichalcum spear still sliced his leg.

“Svartna!”

The spear spun around as it fell and flew to its master’s side. Stryg pulled Svartna back for another throw but Xyloth was already a grey speck in the night sky. Stryg ran after him. He jumped atop the last remnants of the Mora mansion and leaped into the air.

The ground fell behind him for a moment, then he fell and crashed.

“Dammit!” Stryg roared in frustration. 

Lunae had promised that he’d learn to fly.

She had lied.

Lunae’s words echoed faintly in his mind.

Not all magic is spell-casting. Spell weaves require concentration and precision, magic does not. Will. That is the only thing in magic that truly matters. The will to change that which you see, that which you feel… the will to change oneself.

She had lied.

There was only one thing he wanted and he couldn’t have it. The thought consumed his very consciousness. 

It didn’t matter if Lunae had lied. It didn’t matter if there was no chromatic Yellow mana left in his body. It didn’t matter if it felt as if his body was being pulled apart, being scorched from within. 

Insignificant pain was drowned out by the thought of his mother lying there in the rain, blood seeping into her clothes. 

There was only one thing Stryg wanted, only one he willed to change.

He leaped into the air, soaring above the mansion for a single breath, then he felt the pull of gravity and he began to sink.

Not yet! NOT YET!!

As he fell he reached his hand out to the clouds, to the rain, to the darkness beyond. An icy fire surged inside his back. Silver feathers burst from his shoulder blades.

The pair of wings unfurled and slammed the air down in a blast of wind. Stryg shot into the sky in an arrow of light and the rain followed like a robe of storms. He spotted the fleeing dragonbane among the clouds and crashed into his back.

Xyloth shouted in surprise and spun around mid-air in a panic. Stryg stabbed Svartna into his back and held on. Xyloth roared and tried to rip him away, but his wings curled around him in a protective dome.

Strength surged through Stryg as the light within him grew brighter and brighter. His claws elongated to ivory talons and he dug them into Xyloth’s flesh.

Another dragonbane noticed the struggle and she swooped down to help her sibling. A dragon followed behind her, flames trailing out of his mouth.

Stryg raked his talons across Xyloth’s back as he thrashed in the air. Stryg spotted the second dragonbane hurtling down from above and a primal roar of rage escaped his lips. His lilac eyes burned bright and the light within him erupted.

The swirling rain contracted around Stryg and the silver-blue glow surged outwards and exploded in a mass of blinding light, swallowing clouds and several nearby dragons and dragonbanes.

The sky lit up as if a second sun had materialized above the city. The sphere of light expanded, devouring the night, then it suddenly retracted and imploded, sending roiling shockwaves throughout the sky and the city below.

The blast left behind a massive hole among the clouds, like the eye of a storm. And at its center, a small trail of smoke plummeted to the earth. Stryg crashed into a merchant’s home in the Bourge District like a meteor, destroying the house in a thundering blast.

His wings took most of the impact. They were bent at odd angles from where the bones had broken. The silver feathers were mangled and covered in specks of dark purple blood.

A quiet wet squelching noise echoed in the ruins of the house as the broken wings slowly retracted into his back and faded away. 

Stryg opened his eyes weakly. He tried to stand but his legs buckled underneath him and he fell over on his side. He breathed heavily and slowly sat up. He glanced down and realized he was naked.

What happened…?

Was he— flying?

The thought of wings seemed ludicrous and he would have dismissed it as a concussion’s hallucination if it weren’t for the silver feathers lying around. He stared at his hands; there were no talons, only his ordinary claws.

He’d been fighting, the memory returned to him in fragments. He had been fighting a monster like none he had ever seen. His mother, she—

Stryg paled at the thought. “Mom…” he whispered in a broken voice.

“My, oh my. Lin-Lu’s worries were right after all. You really are more than any of us could have imagined.”

Stryg turned to the voice. A pair of iridescent eyes were watching him from the shadows of the wreckage. A woman, no, a giant, stepped out from the shadows. Jade hair, almost as pale as snow. Warm brown skin. And curling pink lips

A capelet of black feathers hugged her shoulders and a dress of darkness was wrapped around her body.

Stryg couldn’t help but stare in mute surprise. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified at her presence. He recognized those eyes, irises constantly shifting through infinite colors.

“You’re the Monster.”

She smiled wryly, “Oh, child. We are both Monsters.”

Stryg frowned. “You’re The Monster in the Dark.”

“I am Ananta.” She took off her capelet and tossed it over him. On his small frame, the capelet of feathers was more of a cloak. “I believe you and I are due for a talk.”