Reva and the Expedition - Part I (Patron Reward) (Patreon)

[The following story is a reward for a patron. Thank you so much for your support!

This is an original story featuring the fantasy setting and characters of the commissioner. The story features a 30 meter-tall woman with divine abilities; vore; feet; handheld; rampage/battle.]

The tundra spread far and flat around their path of jagged rock, exposing a terrain that was eerily empty. The relentless snow bleached the terrain with an all-revealing whiteness, and it revealed that they were alone for some distance, only the twelve that they were, hiking upwards the harsh passage. There was no wildlife to be lingering behind them, but Reva felt a chill – distinct from the bitter cold that drilled through her black coat and robe – that the expedition was being stalked – not by a wolf or any animal, but something territorial all the same. It was a creeping itch that worsened as they approached Sepentria, as though the country’s winds deliberately hurled and howled into the red-haired witch.

Suddenly– “Ghh!” Someone yelped and stumbled, accented by loose stone scattering where he slid. The incline, slight but slippery with frost, pulled him backwards from the rest – he had tripped on the unshaped road, that which was rocky and prone to do exactly that to its travelers, snagging them by the boots and bringing them to their knees. Reva hesitated to help, but the others continued their march, expecting anyone that fell on their own accord to lift themselves back just the same.

But one among them did not share such an attitude, instead bouncing back down the jagged slope as if it were no obstacle at all, chiming softly to those she passed, “Aside, please! Move aside!” A blonde woman in a mauve uniform dashed by Reva, gently maneuvering around her with a touch to an arm; Reva blinked, more frozen by that momentary brush than the weather had done to her yet, captivated by the healer’s earnest urgency. With rabbit-like movements, she was upon the stumbled companion, offering not just a helping hand back onto his feet, but the blessing of magical healing – just enough to undo the scrapes and bruising.

Rose, a name Reva remembered, remarkably more than almost anyone else’s within the expedition team. Learning names was rarely useful in her career as a freelance witch; most connections lasted as long as contracts, and any she worked alongside were running the same dangerous gambit that she was. Many that were beside her then must have felt a similar way, but Rose’s compassion was in contrast to that steel-like nature. More so than the average healer, Rose resonated with an empathy that Reva took quick notice of; How charming, she thought of the healer, but hid any expression with a tuck-up of her collar, but hearts as big as her’s don’t always know when the rope has to be cut.

Not to lag behind as well, Reva turned and caught up with the middle of the pack. She followed in the exact snowtracks left by the trail leader, Bernhard Starrberger, a path she fell more in-line with. He stood taller than any of the eleven that followed him, his shoulders wide like a shield that defended the way forward. His glare had not shifted since the expedition’s departure from Northview, the final station between the Kingdom of Sophus and its opposite, the unexplored lands of Sepentria. Starrberger was as stern and steady as his reputation described, renowned for having achieved bounds in the navigation of Sepentria – impressively, he was the only trail leader to return from an expedition with the will to go again, all others having been beaten into retirement or having succumbed to the difficulties of the voyage. Having proven himself, Starrberger was promoted to organize and manage a more intensive campaign, and with haste did he have his crew arranged: two mages, two healers, two warriors, two navigators, and three additional aids, all acting under his command. He was strict, specific, and straightforward; Reva thought of his leadership as ideal for the circumstance, that they be swift in their exploits within Sepentria.

The purpose of the expedition was to chart the landscapes of Sepentria, distinguishing landmarks and features that would improve navigation for future expeditions. Beneath the snowdrifts and between the abundant mountains were complex chasms and caves, which could be mined for valuable resources that were unavailable in Sophus. They were expected to retrieve samples of minerals and plot for potential excavations, but that was a lofty hope to have; deep exploration had been the demise of past efforts, entire teams disappearing to unknown circumstances. Starrberger claimed there was a behemoth that hides in the snow fog, perhaps the ice-goddess Sepentria herself appearing to punish trespassers – as tall a tale as it was troubling to consider. Thus, expeditions were designed to be quick and sharp: a team sized to be efficient, reactive, and affordable.

Will this truly be enough? Reva pondered, as she had throughout the hours of marching through ankle-high trenches of snow. There had been more volunteers, but Starrberger chose only eleven. There’s only so few of us… I suppose that means we have fewer to possibly lose, too.

“Mages!” Starrberger barked just as he halted. He remained faced forward like stone as the winds of Sepentria blew against him unwelcomingly; he did not have to turn to know when Reva and her mage partner were ready behind him. “Create the bridge.”

As planned, the two mages stepped ahead until they were skirting the edge of the Divide, the gaping chasm that was the split in the continent and its two countries, Sophus and Sepentria. Wide as it was of a maw into the world – a drop hundreds of meters deep down to an ocean strait – the only means to cross was to manifest a bridge of magic, a feat that required the concentration of both mages. Reva positioned herself in sync with the other mage, and together, they performed in unison: with a sweeping motion forward, the two women weaved thin threads of light from their auras, connecting them into a glass-like structure four meters wide with a faint, rainbow sheen. Snowfall piled up quickly on the surface as dots became patches of white; Starrberger took the first step, gesturing for one mage to maintain the front and for Reva to uphold the rear.

With her hands held outward to maintain the spell, Reva could only buckle her chin down to fend off the freezing winds, billows of which exhaled from the canyon below. Squinting against the snow, Reva had to only follow the shape of the others in front of her in a straightforward walk, but halfway across the bridge, her outstretched arms collided with someone that had stopped. Reva flinched upon accidentally pushing into another expeditioner, assuming initially that it was her mistake, until she realized it was Rose that she bumped into, already stuttering an apology.

“I-I’m so s-sorry about that!” Rose said, caught shivering for reasons other than the temperature. After looking Reva in the eye, her gaze drifted down to between her feet – directly down, seeing through the glass bridge and down into the rocky depths. “It’s j-just– um, I glanced down, a-and feel… dizzy…”

Reva looked below as well, but without any of the fright. It was indeed a far drop to the bottom, unseen in the shadows of stone. Reva smirked, “Unless you want us to fall down next, you should keep moving.” She nodded forward, returning to a pose of concentration as she stepped up to Rose’s side. “It would be bad if you kept distracting me.”

“Eh-heh… That is true…” Rose replied meekly, imbued with some of Reva’s confidence to continue with the pack, but with a pace that was still cautious.

Reva nodded again. “Trust me. It will last,” she assured her. “If it came to it, I could actually maintain this bridge all by myself. You don’t have to worry.”

“Ah, i-it isn’t really the drop that concerns me,” Rose elaborated, dragging her attention off the chasm and onto the path ahead. “... I suppose what worries me is what’s on the other side. Sepentria. Very few people return, afterall, and those that do are often deeply injured.” She managed a sincere smile to shine back at Reva, “I may not be as confident as you… but I do trust my healing to get us back. It’s my responsibility.”

“We have a strong leader, too,” Reva added. “I heard he’s made an expedition to Sepentria before, and he still has all of his limbs, if I counted correctly.”

“Indeed. The others have a lot of respect for him as well,” Rose remarked. She consolidated her optismsm into a clenched fist and a sharper smile. “I’m sure we’ll make it throu– uwah!”

A patch of ice had formed on the bridge, and Rose had stepped directly onto it, causing her to jostle and slip backwards. Afraid of the worst, Reva lunged forward, forgoing her magic to catch Rose into her arms and swing her towards the middle of the glass bridge. Both women toppled, but were safe from the edges – safe, except for when the bridge began to crack, threatening to break under the expedition’s weight. The frontward mage groaned, arms quivering as she had to maintain the shape and strength of the structure alone. Starrberger, uncharacteristically, pulled a boot back as cracks in the glass formed near him; he snapped towards the rear of the group, “Mage! The bridge!”

All eyes twisted to Reva, but she knew the pressure well enough to swiftly respond. After assuring Rose was still, she dashed onto her feet and made another swinging motion of her arms, reconnecting her energy to the bridge and restoring its strength. The fissures in the glass faded and the colorful gleam returned; Reva sighed, needing not to speak to prove to everyone that the way forward was safe again. After the second mage was stable again, the expedition continued, but Starrberger’s strict stare onto Reva persisted for several steps.

Rose was back on her feet and walking more steadfast than before. The shock of her stumble, and the subsequent suspense of the bridge nearly disappearing, had put haste into her strides and cleared away her hesitations. She looked back at Reva with a smile of gratitude, quietly promising, “That’s the last time I’ll be in your way.” Reva only chuckled when she was no longer watched, continuing into Sepentria with her focus reined to Rose’s back.

In the vast snowfields of Sepentria, daylight was a precious resource for its warmth and glow, and so when it descended into the horizon of silver clouds and icy mountains, the rules of the world shifted. The temperature plummeted when it had already been low and draining, and with less vision within the fog, the plains of white were indecipherable and unreasonable to trek. The expedition braved the night like they had the day, but after nearly an hour of traveling by strained torchlight, the navigators located an alcove in the hills and agreed to set up camp. The highlands guarded them from the hardest of the winds, but only enough to let a fire burn without being blown out – warming magic was used sparingly by spellcasters, directed by Starrberger to conserve their energy for the greater length of the journey still ahead. Reva respected the order only when he was watching; she knew her limits better than him, and so she offered valuable heat to those she found shivering in the snow.

Generating such warmth for others was an opportunity to meet and understand them better. Reva chatted with her fellow expeditioners, if they were privy to conversation, and learned which of her team was most prepared. Some, she discovered, were little more than mercenaries hired right out of Northview; the three aids had never seen more combat than a bar fight, and one of the two navigators spoke regretfully about coming as far as they had. Others were better equipped, such as the warrior pair that bragged of their prior, semi-criminal exploits, or Reva’s fellow mage, an understudy to Starrberger that was no stranger to adventuring.

There were stories behind everyone in the group, but the only person to capture Reva’s intrigue was Rose, a name she brought up to nearly all she talked with. More so than the others, Rose had a reputation as a distinguished member of the Sophus’s Healers Association: a respected field medic renowned for operations both mundane and magical. Such prestige within the famous organization made her a trusted figure, though many in the expedition agreed she was not quite what they imagined of her; she was vibrant and cheerful, despite being a few years older than Reva and heralding from an environment as serious as medicine and healing magic. Unlike the calm, calculated doctors Reva was accustomed to relying on, Rose was inviting to other people, empathetic and soothing, occasionally casting a laugh that Reva gravitated towards, charmed by the melodic sound of the healer’s happiness.

But before Reva allowed herself to approach her, she hardened her attitude and withdrew to the fire. Wary of making attachments, she waited the night far from Rose, often instead looking to Starrberger for inspiration. He managed the camp effectively, reviewing notes and maps as the expedition neared uncharted territory. She appreciated his work ethic, though she would not bless him openly with the compliment, deciding to take after him and focus on the mission. More important than building bonds was to complete their tasks in Sepentria and survive, and so when the discussion of night watches inevitably began, Reva was the first to volunteer.

The nightly blizzard blew in early as the camp was bunkered tightly into the rocky alcove. After a quick circle of the perimeter, Starrberger left the watch to Reva and a warrior, taking refuge from the smacks of snowfall as the worst of the storm arrived. The guards were then alone with each other, stationed a distance down the hills of the alcove. Eerie winds howled aggressively with the blizzard’s debut, making a fast impression as a gust forced the night watch duo to lean against it. Their torches were blown out, abandoning them in darkness – until Reva snapped her fingers and reignited them both in an instant. Afterwards, the wind quieted, but the snow was just relentless, requiring Reva to mildly concentrate on sustaining the flames.

“... I wonder how they can mind all this,” the warrior said, breaking an hour of quiet between the two. It was such a surprise to hear a voice that Reva nearly ignored him by mistake. The warrior motioned to what he saw some distance away: a herd of nixodere grazing through ice to feed on the frozen vegetation. They were docile creatures, especially so in Sepentria than those found in Sophus; warthog-sized mounds of white fur, with tusks to break up snow. Other than the goddess that lurked somewhere in her domain, the nixodere were alone in living through the constant cold, the only known life that could stand it. “All their lives out here covered in snow, feh… I’ve never seen this much snow in all my life…”

Reva grew a grin to have a conversation – it was assuring to know her night watch partner was awake and alert. “Northview can be just as cold,” she mentioned. “Have you never traveled so far north?” He shook his head, but she already knew at a glance, the fashion of his armor and clothes poorly managed to keep warm. At least he was equipped fairly enough, including his greatsword and ring of hatchets, and a powerful physique to tote it all around. He could perhaps overpower Starrberger in a brutish contest, but what mattered in Sepentria was his strength to stand the elements. Reva thought to later help the warrior with bundling his clothes more warmly, but until then, she put more focus on the fires of their torches and looked outward from the camp.

Another hour – midnight. The rapid snowfall had settled into a flurry of a fog, so thick that the torchlight could reach only half as far before becoming gray and faint in what it revealed. Yet, it was not the darkness that unsettled Reva – she was rather fond of shadows – but the winds that bellowed around them, the patterned sound of their back and forth breezes. She dwelled on that rhythm, back and forth – in, and then out – inhale, exhale. Her eyes closed as she fell into thought, recalling rumors she heard from Northview; Reva wondered, Is this what they meant… by the breath of Sepentria?

A sharp whistle was a last-second signal of an incoming whip of wind– Wooosh! The weather yelled at Reva and the warrior, their gasps trampled by the explosive noise barreled against them. The warrior dug knee-deep into the snow and held his ground against the wind, but Reva was too light and taken aback, thrust into a backwards flip face-first into the snow. Thus, when their torches were unlit again, there was no spark of magic to revive the flames.

Reva flailed in the cold and black that encased her, slipping in her attempts to get back her footing. The ferocious wind had faded, but that rhythm of air persisted. In her shivering state, she realized that it had not been a natural gust that had toppled them, but a magical attack. “... Breathing!” she deduced, a moment of brilliance that was soured by the dire realization that something unknown was encroaching upon the campsite.

In a dance of movement, Reva casted a spell high and ahead of her. Her arms swept forward, unleashing wings of fire that soared and scattered into feather-like embers. The curtain of darkness was removed from the area, unveiling the threat to be something far bigger than anticipated. The light revealed only the frontward loom of a tall, towering thing that stretched high for thirty meters – a person, undoubtedly so by the shape of their figure, the distinct legs and their steep length. Reva stared higher and higher, grasping the full form of the enemy that had lurked so close; a woman with snow-white skin, glacial eyes, and light-blue hair that danced slowly in the blizzard. An aura surrounded her, a presence of sheer cold as daunting as her height. Crystalline ice formed over parts of her body like armor, expertly designed and fitted for her physique, equipped sparingly as to express the divinity of her body. It was a form that could only be understood as Sepentria herself, coldly glaring down at those that had intruded upon her domain.

The balance Reva had recovered was lost again when Sepentria lifted a foot out of the snow, drifts of the powder cascading off the open-toed heels made of ice. Had it not been for the fires of the witch’s magic, the night watch would have been blind to the direction of her stomp – Thoom! Her leg crashed into the ground and drove forward between the guards, launching forth waves of snow to either side. Reva willed a blaze to turn the frost into steam, but the warrior was washed down before he could equip his weapon. An insulting giggle trickled onto them from above; Sepentria had downed a fighter with the ease of one stride.

The embers in the air flickered away one by one, allowing the darkness to creep inwards like the fading of hope. Though the warrior hurried to unbury himself from the snow, the goddess was already upon him; Sepentria crouched onto one knee, as low as she needed to be to reach down and take the warrior into her left hand. It was effortless for her, from how her fingers glided through the snow, to how her grip claimed the man and lifted him away. Grappled as he was, he was without access to his weapons, only able to squirm in Sepentria’s possession.

On the goddess’s other side, Reva made a dash of a retreat towards the camp, intending to fulfill her duty and alert the others. The snow must allow her to move so stealthily, she dreaded. She’ll catch everyone off-guard – and we need everyone to stand a chance against– “Aack!!” Reva cried out as she was overwhelmed by a net of fingers, instantly taken into Sepentria’s other fist before she could fling a spell.

Holding a captive in each hand, Sepentria grinned contently as the inarguable victor while posed lowly on her knees. She felt the shivering of her enemies as she leveled them at chest-height; the warrior’s helmeted head peeked from her left fist, writhing hard in a struggle to break free, while the witch was entirely contained in the other’s grasp. As her hostages, her voice was forced onto them: “Your kind have made a grave error,” she began, her tone heavy and divine. “Outsiders have no place in this land… but trespassers have a special home that awaits them…~”

Sepentria’s lips curled as her tongue slithered from between them. It lashed from one corner to the other, revealed like a weapon unsheathed – a gesture that challenged the warrior to a one-sided battle. Though he had raged through many skirmishes, the warrior had no strength that could compete with a giant’s, much less the goddess Sepentria. Her icy touch sapped him of stamina, draining him until he was inflicted with utter feebleness. No longer a proud warrior, but a shivering doll in Sepentria’s hand– less than that, for the goddess committed the shell of a fighter into her mouth, his frostbitten body cradled onto her tongue as it disappeared behind her lips. There was no resistance, as though he accepted the warmth of Sepentria’s mouth, blanketed into lifeless bliss as he was decidedly swallowed. Equipment and all, the warrior was devoured, yet the goddess actively craved the treat in her other hand.

Through the small gaps between the fingers, Reva had witnessed the demise of the warrior, a prelude to her own fate, but she was prepared. Inside Sepentria’s fist, Reva secretly channeled her magic and awaited an opportunity to unleash it. When the goddess’s hunger turned towards her, the witch made her move – uncurling from her tight space, Reva stretched both arms and legs outward in an expression of spellcasting. She had magically created a glass barrier around herself, an orb that expanded in Sepentria’s grasp in a jolt of growth that stalled her from eating. At the peak of its size, the glass then exploded into little shards that were even littler to the goddess, scratching her skin painlessly, but with such surprising effect that she flinched from the pop. Her fist clenched in anger, but in that moment of blindness, her captive had escaped.

Reva dropped through the fog and what few feathers of fire remained, but only for so long did she plummet. Cleverly, the witch had expected the fall and had spells ready for the occasion. She first conjured a slab of glass to plant her feet onto, then used a thrust of fire to propel herself forward through the air in a jet-like glide. The sled was geared towards a hook in the hills, a ramp of snowy land that caught her and gave her a path to speed onward. A flustered attempt was made by Sepentria to grab her, but her hand smacked only into snow, just missing Reva as she rushed back to the camp.

Sepentria gave chase, forgoing any pretense of stealth as she thundered after the witch. To the call of an agitated roar, the goddess had cast a spell – initially unknown to Reva, until her path forward was attacked by icicles twice her height. They impaled the snow like missiles, creating spontaneous obstacles that Reva swerved and weaved between in narrow dodges. Though no projectile struck her target, Sepentria was able to shorten the distance and get within lunging distance. She growled sinisterly, “I’ll freeze you to your soul, you insolent–!”

Reva glanced behind her, and was grateful she did – Sepentria leaped at her with an arm stretched forward, charging after the witch like a tidal wave. A claw-like hand threatened to snatch her, but Reva countered with a thrust of extra fire behind her, a blaze that whipped at the palm and provided the witch the boost she needed to get away. Sepentria’s fingers clenched at nothing but heat, forming a fist that crashed into the stony ascent. Following that initial pound was then the rest of the goddess, toppling into the mountainside with the full brunt of her weight – the consequence of which would catch Reva better than her attempt.

The quake of Sepentria’s slam shook Reva, but did worse to the build-up of snow that was ahead. Disturbed from its heavy rest, an avalanche poured down the slope in her direction, stretching far too wide in either direction to flashily outmaneuver like she could the goddess. With the hazard fast upon her, she abandoned the sled and refocused her fiery jets in front of her; both palms created weaving fires that met the onslaught of snow dead-on. The heat created a hole in the avalanche, for only as long as Reva could maintain herself – the wall of white turned to steam, but then it was only water, until–

“Nn…! Nope…!” Reva nervously chuckled, the sweat of her worry highlighted by the fire. “Not enou–!” Thoo-oosh! On either side of the witch, the snow overtook her, breaking her stance and disabling her magical fires. The rest of the avalanche consumed her, drawing her down the mountain as she swam against the relentless cold. In a sea of blue-white, her blood-red hair was the last to be covered over.

The crumbling exhale of snow was followed by a long, windy silence. The limitless powder gradually steadied back to sleep, resting in newly formed slopes that were clean and sparkling – blank and plain, until a bubble of snow grew and burst into a cloud of vapor. Reva rose from the divet that a spell of fire had made for her, at first standing strong above the snow, before collapsing onto her knees, knocked down by a gust. She coughed on the bitter temperature, shivering herself to cast away the snow that coated her robes; she had survived the avalanche, but not without having let the cold seep through her.

Reva’s teeth chattered too much for her to make a remark about the desolate scene, but she was relieved with the empty view down below her. The goddess had been outwitted by a witch, and undone by her own haste; the avalanche had swallowed her, and so too did the darkness of the night. The snowstorm rained on, and Reva hoped it would pile high and heavy overtop of Sepentria, enough to at least buy her the time to tell the others.

But she was overly confident that the goddess was subdued at all, fooled into thinking the fight had been stalled. A roar announced her wrongness, followed by a quake that threatened to call down yet more snow – behind her, the plain of powder erupted, revealed only by moonlight to be Sepentria standing once more. With her eyes aglow, she instantly commanded the snow to blow around her, the icy winds taking shape as long sleeves extending from her arms. Sepentria’s intimidating elegance had returned to her, and her murderous gaze took aim on the quivering witch that had troubled her so.

“All in my domain bends to my will,” Sepentria snarled, approaching up the slope with stomping strides; Reva turned to run, but the knee-high snow tripped her at every step. The goddess loomed behind her, readying a tornado to be magically weaponized.  “The moment you invaded my land was the moment you were mine to claim…! You will succumb to my cold, as all interlopers before you have!”

Reva gasped as she felt the ferocity of winds rise from afar. She could expect the sheer strength of the goddess’s attack, but could not fathom a means to avoid it, certainly not while fatigue stripped her of her most reliable spells. The air turned against her then, gripping at her robes until they finally had a latch onto her; she shrieked as the invisible hand of wind lifted her from the snow, levitating her from off the ground in a spiral towards Sepentria’s awaiting grasp.

It appeared there was nothing between Reva and the goddess’s reach for her, but in denial of that end, she was suddenly broken from the stream of wind. It surprised both her and Sepentria that a challenger in armor had interfered, leaping straight through the tornado with the witch in his arms. Too heavy and quick to be taken by Sepentria’s magic, it was Starrberger that had rescued Reva, landing them both atop a flat stone with statue-like sturdiness. He placed Reva on her feet unflinchingly, letting her learn on her own that the battle was only just beginning – behind from where he appeared was the rest of the expedition, all intensely alarmed by the emergency situation.

Sepentria was appalled by the daring image of those who had intruded upon her land. Her wind-wielding hand clenched in anger when it had no witch to hold captive, but just as infuriating was the warrior that had cut in to save her. She recognized him as he did her; Starrberger had been to her domain before, leading an expedition not unlike the one before her then. Much of that team was made into a meal, and the few that escaped swore to never return to that nightmare – except Starrberger. Exactly as she had dreaded, permitting any survivors meant they would insultingly try again to invade. She cast only a wicked glance at the nine others he had dragged with him, those that were cast in their own magical light to see; she would make morsels out of them in time, but hungered first for their leader.

“You…! Did you learn nothing from our encounter before…?” Sepentria hissed, stepping forward threateningly. “Or, is this how you repay me for granting you the mercy to survive? You bring me offerings from Sophus?” She smirked, her confidence renewed with that appetizing promise. “I will be content to accept you all as morsels. Give yourselves to me, and I will charitably provided you with the warmth of my throat~”

Starrberger yelled back to his team, “Warrior! Mages! We slow her down!” One gauntlet equipped his sword, the other motioned hard to a distance beside him. “All else, retreat south!! Go, go!!”

The directions were bleak, but truly they were the most optimal tactics. The goddess was regarded as an inevitability, a juggernaut whose approach could only be slowed – only possibly outmatched. The expedition had planned for such a dire circumstance with a strategy intended to give the weakest of their team the most distance back towards the Divide. Indeed, their best gambit was to forfeit traveling any further, and to take refuge as close to the border as possible. Sepentria’s might was simply that powerful to order such respect like it were law of the land, and had the expedition any doubts of how overwhelming a goddess would be to face against, they surely evaporated once they marveled at her height and realized their own insignificance to her. They were brave and capable adventurers, but in Sepentria’s domain, they were just fragile lives organizing themselves for a desperate retreat.

Reva was left alone on the rock islet when Starrberger charged into the fray, leaving her to recover and join the fight as soon as she was able. At least, that was his direction; while the other expeditioners obeyed his leadership, Reva hesitated with thoughts of desertion. She remembered the cruelty that befell her fellow nightwatch, counting herself fortunate enough to have already escaped the goddess’s reach once. When expected to then spring into battle and slow her down, Reva thought otherwise; There’s no way that my story ends inside some giant’s stomach! If only one of us is making it out of here alive, it’s going to be me!

For the meantime, desertion remained just a consideration; while Reva recovered from her fatigue and restored her mana, she studied the battle between mortals and a goddess. The mage and warrior joined Starrberger to create a frontline to obstruct Sepentria, while the rest of the expedition – the healers, navigators, and aids – raced behind them to reach their escape route: a steep slope that descended down the side of the mountain to its base. Magical lights illuminated the way through a rigid path that was revealed when the snow cascaded in the avalanche, but as long as Sepentria loomed nearby, there was no assurance they could make it across unharmed. It was upon the frontline to distract Sepentria with swords and spells, lest she be allowed to overtake the weakest of their team.

All the same did Sepentria intend to pluck the interlopers apart eventually, regardless of what order they presented themselves. Both hands were held ready to pounce, her glacial eyes picking out the first of her victims. The mage was targeted to begin with, approached by a net of fingers that swiftly reached for her. She channeled a beam of force magic to drill into the palm, stalling it while Starrberger and the warrior rushed to attack. Their blades chopped into Sepentria’s fingers, lodging into the skin but only with the effectiveness of a bug’s bite; the hand flinched and recoiled away, only to be replaced with the other, just as quickly sweeping low to steal someone that was out of position. Starrberger rolled beneath the lunging grasp, but the warrior was not fast enough – the goddess’s hand charged into him, lifting him away in a handful of snow. The mage lobbed combustive spells at her arm, but once Sepentria’s fist had been closed, so too had the warrior’s fate been sealed. She immediately took her prize to be eaten, feeding herself the warrior alongside the snow he was taken with. The fight he made for his life inside the mouth was never seen nor heard, his demise declared by a swallow emphasized by a satisfied moan.

The onlookers gawked at the horrible conclusion – one of their own, completely consumed before their eyes. The warrior’s skills and strength meant nothing once he had been grabbed by the goddess, and all understood how they would be next, certainly easier prey for her to digest. The shock slowed the retreat with its disheartening effect, but the moment Sepentria opened her eyes with a hungry sheen, they were kicked into moving faster than before, even abandoning supplies to hasten their escape.

Their efforts amused Sepentria, whose attitude had cooled upon having reigned in the situation, and for having something extra be added to her belly. She giggled arrogantly as she assessed the moment; Starrberger and the mage stood at cliff edges, disturbed but otherwise steeled for battle, while so many more were at risk of leaving her sights at the bend of the mountain. Unwilling to allow any other interlopers to leave her domain such as Starrberger had before, she whimmed a spell with a simple curl of her fingers that would stop those from slipping away.

Reva expected Sepentria to cast an attack onto the frontline duo, something to dismiss them out of her way, but she quickly learned where the spell was directed– “Haaaiiihh!! I-It’s got us!!” A woman’s screech was among the shouts and gasps of the retreating expeditioners; Reva whipped around to see the grounded snow having risen to life, formed into snake-like strips of icy-white that entangled the team. They squirmed to break free and struck the snow with weapons and kicks, but the snow was fluid and regenerative, only amassing more of itself over time. Reva had recognized Rose when she screamed, and it was exactly her whose eyes she locked onto, her terrified expression gradually becoming frosted over as she stretched far for the witch’s help.

Just after Rose closed her eyes against the piling snow, she heard a fiery pop. In the next moment, the snow around her was dismissed – melted or blown away, she had been freed because of a burst of flames, a spell that had been hurled at the tendrils. No longer restrained nor supported in the air, Rose gasped as she dropped back towards the ground, a hard fall avoided when she was then caught in the arms of that heroic mage; Reva had rejoined the fight to save the noncombatants, her magic fire having reaped the living snow that had netted the others.

Rose shivered with gratitude over her rescue, compelled to thank Reva as she was steadied on her feet. The other expeditioners similarly found their bearings from being dropped, but one of the aides broke the relief with a yell: “It’s still alive!” Everyone flinched as they realized Sepentria’s spell was not finished, the snow reforming into its aggressive shape and attempting to coil around ankles and wrists. The crew scattered towards the escape path, but when the aide reached back to try and grab a supply bag, the snow snatched him instead. A wave of the cold caught him by the arm, then climbed up his body, blanketing over his squirming form with a depressing weight.

Reva’s fingers sparked with embers as she stepped forward, ready to unleash another spell, but Rose cut in front of her, urging her to stand down. Rather than burn both the living snow and the man entombed by it, the medic acted with her own solution, utilizing two vials retrieved from her satchel like weapons. The two chemicals were pitched at the snow-covered aide, shattering upon impact and releasing two clear-colored liquids. Reva blinked with uncertainty, still seeing the aide writhe as snow swallowed him, but the effect began seconds later – the snow did not just melt, but foamed and evaporated, becoming too weak and fluid to keep the aide restrained. He soon slipped out of the snow as though it were air, staggering back into fleeing alongside the others – the farthest of which were then reaching the icy precipice that their escape relied on.

“Alchemist’s tears and acid,” Rose said, answering the question expressed on Reva’s face. She giggled, “Just a chemical reaction when combined with water.”

Reva smirked. “Neat bag of tricks,” she commented about Rose’s satchel, marked with the emblem of the Healers of Sophus. The witch then turned her glare behind her, to where the battle against a giant was still being waged. She scoffed, “Got anything that can turn her into foam?”

Though her spell had failed to subdue the evacuees, Sepentria maintained a steep advantage over the frontline that challenged her. Starrberger and his mage struggled to keep themselves standing against her, trading with one another the goddess’s deadly focus and dodging her sweeping attacks. Sepentria plainly preferred to target Starrberger, chasing after him on the ground with hard stomps that shot geysers of snow into the air; the mage could only distract her with her best spells, buying Starrberger the moments he needed to avoid another footfall. When the mage grew too annoying, Sepentria addressed her with a wind-lash of a spell, flipping her off her feet so that she was no longer an obstacle – without her, Starrberger was just a wiry insect weaving between her feet.

For all of his rolling and leaping, exhaustion was finally catching up to Starrberger. He had survived several close-calls as Sepentria stomped and grabbed at him, but his movements were growing sluggish and easier to predict. There was never a chance to attack back, and now even less of an opportunity as his stamina failed him while his mage was subdued. The situation had fallen into Sepentria’s favor, and without distractions, she could hone her aggression completely onto Starrberger; bearing a devilish smile, she took aim with her high-heel of ice at the expedition leader.

Starrberger held his breath and guarded himself with his sword, but it was not his steel that blocked the winter-blue sole. Produced out of magic was a thick wall of glass-like material, so dense that it was nearly opaque, fogging the image of Sepentria’s persistent foot overhead. Starrberger owed his rescue to Reva, positioned a dash behind him up the mountainside; she concentrated on her spell, tense as she fought to keep the barrier fortified against the crushing pressure as though it were her own arms suspending the footstep. She thus earned Sepentria’s piercing glare, a beam of hatred about being interrupted yet again.

“About damned time!” Starrberger snarled, hopping up the cliff ledges to get to Reva’s height. Once joined with her, both sprinted away from Sepentria’s aim; as soon as Reva lowered her arms, her magical shield weakened and cracks quickly formed. In the next second, the glass was broken through – roooosh!! With nothing holding it back, Sepentria’s foot crashed like a hammer into the rocks and snow, conjuring slides of snow to avalanche into the mortals she missed. Though Starrberger had been saved, his outlook was as grim as before: “We need a spell!” he demanded. “We die here with nothin’ to knock her back!”

Reva hissed, but held back a sarcastic attitude. “I’ve got a plan,” she said, “but it’s on you to give us an opening, Leader.” She and Starrberger looked down the shaking mountainside, where Sepentria’s foot was lifting from where it had cratered – snow spilled off the glacial heel as she steadied herself, reeling to raise the opposite for a subsequent stomp. Reva prepared a hand for casting, and Starrberger begrudgingly followed her lead; “On my call…”

Meanwhile, Rose had taken to the other mage, that which had been flung upside-down into a pile of snow. As the rumble of Sepentria’s movement rattled around her, the medic kept cool and uncovered the patient from her icy tomb; dizzy and blue in the face, the mage was in no condition to keep fighting – not without the magical boost Rose had readied. A bottle was retrieved from her healer’s pouch and hurriedly uncorked, its orange liquid of contents poured past the mage’s lips. Initially, she struggled to swallow, but with each taste, her eyes widened brighter and her muscles twitched electrically. She was restored, her ailments relieved and replaced with the warmth of confidence.

Rose pulled the mage onto her feet, just as Sepentria was balancing herself for a second attack. It was the moment she had envisioned earlier, when Reva told her the tactic she had devised. Rose directed the mage in a panic, “Her eyes!” she exclaimed. “Blind her!”

The mage stuttered with uncertainty, but gestured accordingly to cast what had been requested. Around her appeared a ring of glowing orbs that swirled in the air, and by her control, she projected them fast at Sepentria’s face. Once at her eyes, the lights detonated into strobing flashes of colors, illuminating the darkness to reveal Sepentria’s strained expression and the imbalance caused by being blinded.

Sepentria nonetheless insisted on kicking into the ground, regardless of her impaired accuracy. Even stronger than before, her foot was thrust into the mountain, another crash that would have decidedly flatten the invaders, but there was no death for her to enjoy. Reva had darted away, and Starrberger– he was upon her, having used a glass runway made by the witch to launch himself onto the giant’s toes. Starrberger took up on the opportunity immediately, both hands on the hilt of his blade as he stabbed deep and harsh into the skin between toes.

“Yyyhhaaaahh!!” An ice-breaking screech sirened from the mountain. Sepentria wailed, struck in such a sensitive place – though she was a goddess, she could still be pained by attacks such as Starrberger’s stab, enduring the brutal blow as though it were a bug bite. All the same did Sepentria kick her foot back and forward, her toes cringing all in an effort to fling the stubborn pest away. “What a pointless maneuver! A mistake that will cost you your life–”

Sepentria coughed, her speech ceased as she was suddenly struck in her center. A hard material jabbed her abdomen: the glass runway, that which Starrberger used to leap onto the giant, extended by magic to push unforgivingly into her. Reva had creatively repurposed the platform into a weapon, a blunt force that caught Sepentria severely off-guard. With only one foot grounded on the mountain, the blow to her core was detrimental to her balance, prompting her to falter backwards – back into the steep decline of the mountain, her arms circling at emptiness as her massiveness swayed dangerously in that direction. When she clutched the glass structure for support, desperate to remain standing, the material broke in her grip – dismissed by a smirking Reva.

It was a slow and monumental fall, each staggered step accentuated with its own boom that shivered the cliffs. She stumbled at first, then utterly tripped backwards, agasp with anger as her posture deteriorated into the mists below. The spectacle had the expedition captivated where they were scattered, and as her body rushed closer to impact, they braced themselves – Kruuooosh! Sepentria’s heaviness barreled through snow-coated ledges, her image wrapped in white as she cascaded down that distance like her own avalanche.

Reva and Starrberger peered over their ledge after some of the shaking subsided. Rose and the mage were eager to be relieved, celebrating to themselves that the goddess Sepentria had been downed – they were alive and free, or so they optimistically assumed. The other expeditioners continued their retreat with the opportunity they had, reaching the slopes of their escape and calling out for the rest to follow. Starrberger, however, remained knelt how he was; he sniffed the air, then spat about what he sensed.

An eerie bellow then echoed up the mountain, a groan that sounded as though the land itself had been riled. The noise cut the spirits of the expedition, spellbinding them with the premonition that it suggested. They looked to where Sepentria had fallen, praying that it was her cry of defeat that they heard. While most watched those cliffs in suspense, others dashed faster to the slope – the scrambled aide, having already avoided death by her magic once, was especially interested in getting away. With a bag of supplies held under each arm, he hopped down the clear mountain slope, letting his body glide down its smoothness–

–until he broke his descent, stomping into the snow to stop himself from falling any farther. The expedition’s escape route was haunted by a dark silhouette, a tower that loomed over the path, but it breathed with life and emotion. Though veiled in tundra fog, the aide knew instantly what horror awaited him, stiffened by the terror that she could appear upon them so instantly. She had not been defeated by the fall; the goddess Sepentria had unleashed a league of power that allowed her to be anywhere in her domain, and so she reappeared to intercept their exit. She seemed impassable standing tall with a grim demeanor, a frosted glow resonating from her eyes like starlight, her hair flowing like a spirit – the image of an arctic hunter, bolstered by resolve to defend her land.

Sepentria opened her mouth, exhaling a low groan, as though another demoralizing remark was about to be announced. There were no words, however, as her hand lashed forward as fast as the piercing wind; she snatched the aide up in an instant, crippling his body in that mercilessly tight grasp, only released when he was propelled into her mouth. She ate him, and the rest of the expedition witnessed it themselves, how her lips and cheeks animated with vicious manners until the aide was swallowed.

Starrberger shouted at his team, “This way! Back, back!” He waved them back to where they came, rerouting their escape to the only option they had available. Sepentria was convincing enough for the remaining expeditioners to turn and flee, shocked into retreat when her hugeness moved towards them after swallowing the aide. A climbing footfall up the mountain projected tremors in their direction, snagging the feet of the most terrified and dropping them into the snow. Starrberger continued urging his team to fall back, standing his ground alone with his weapon drawn; whatever it could mean, he intended to at least stagger Sepentria’s approach.

But he had assumed too easily that Sepentria was as volatile as she was before, believed to be an ego he could manipulate. When the goddess’s gaze scanned the expedition, she did not stop to single out Starrberger and enact her revenge, instead considering the rest of his team of invaders gradually getting away. Having suspected their leader would pose himself as an obstructive distraction, Sepentria took to her wits and decided on another form of offense – a powerful spell that applied an electric tingle of suspense in the atmosphere.

Reva stiffened as she keenly sensed that draw of magic. The air was turning, swirling behind Sepentria as though being gathered; though the goddess was huge and could soon have the expedition within her reach, she needed not stress herself even that much, so superior that she would have the wind itself devastate her enemies. Predicting such power, Reva immediately bunkered down between Rose and Starrberger, but even that instinctive readiness proved a second too slow.

With an elegant, gliding pass of her hand, Sepentria calmly unleashed the immediate terror of a tornado. Piercing winds launched from behind her, sweeping up a wave of snow that became a thick fog of concealment – a cloud of cold that consumed the individuals of the expedition, hiding them from one another as the winds pounded them like battering rams. Those that ran away from her were the quickest to be tripped and blown forward in that same direction, pushed painfully through the rocks and snow until they were haphazardly flung into the air. Supplies were ripped from their possession and scattered aimlessly across the mountainside, dooming them to slow, freezing deaths wherever the relentless winds threw them. The aides and navigators disappeared, shouting for help until they could be heard no more; the mage turned to charge a spell, but was pelted with snow until she was entombed by it. Only Reva, Rose, and Starrberger remained – pushing and leaning hard against the winds, enduring the onslaught that would inevitably overpower them.

Under that stress, Reva was talented enough to harness magic and gradually generate a wall to protect them. Starrberger knelt beside her as the barrier slowly took shape, but when Reva looked for Rose, she found her being blown back by the winds, slipping onto one knee in one final bout of resistance. The healer whined, “Kah!! I-I can’t…!”

“Rose!” Reva gasped, forfeiting one hand from spellcasting to reach out behind her – and as consequence, the shield ceased being made. “Rose, my hand!” she called out.

Rose struggled just to turn her head up and keep her eyes opened against the blitzing winds. When she braved the storm to extend her own arm– “Gngh! Noo!” An uppercut of icy wind pushed her back and rolled her into the snow, soon after vanishing in the white air.

Reva gave up on the wall entirely; “No, Rose!” she yelled as she dashed in that direction, only to lose her footing immediately. Starrberger lunged for her, but was also caught in the wind, flipped upside-down as though he was an armorless lightweight. Reva flailed to find either of them, or any of the expeditioners, but the world was distorted and dizzy as she was taken away – into the air, hard against the mountain, back into the air again – only in glimpses able to see her rocky surroundings, but still no other soul. “Rose…! Rose…!!”

The witch clawed at whatever ground she could next, holding herself steady against the relentless wind. Her feet kicked hard to drive her forward, but they then kicked at nothing – a pit beneath her feet, a fissure that her legs dangled into. Reva was breathless looking into that darkness below, her grip on the ice slipping her closer, until the snowdrift collapsed under her attempts to climb out. She screamed as the ice washed her into that pit, her red hair seen cast into the fissure like a single ember sinking into an ashy end…