My human senses vanished, extinguished like a candle in a gale. In their place, a kaleidoscope of alien inputs flooded my consciousness. I didn’t see with two eyes; I saw with three independent fields of vision, a fractured panoramic view of the dark tunnel that was painted in shades of radioactive green and thermal heat signatures.
I didn't smell with a nose; I tasted the air with wet, quivering antennae. The scent of the cultists down the tunnel wasn't just a smell; it was a physical texture, a greasy, metallic film coating my mind. Fear. Sweat. The ozone burn of unstable magic. And beneath it all, the deep, rhythmic thrumming of the Titan’s bone, beating like a second heart in the earth.
Hunger,the Skal’s mind whispered, a cold, wet thought that slithered over my own.Prey.
It wasn't a complex thought. It was a biological imperative, sharp as a hook.
I anchored myself to the sensation of Kaelen’s hand gripping mine back in the tunnel, the searing heat of his dragon skin against my cold fingers. That claim was my lifeline. Without it, I felt I might dissolve into this creature’s primitive drive to consume.
Go,I commanded, pushing my will down the bond.Silent.
The creature moved. My perspective lurched forward, low to the ground and terrifyingly fast. I felt the scrape of stone against the chitinous armor of my underbelly. I felt the independent articulation of too many legs, a clicking, scuttling rhythm that made my phantom bile rise.
We, or rather,it,burst from the tunnel mouth into the excavated chamber.
If the cavern above had been a natural wonder, this was an open wound in the world’s foundation. The ceiling was low and oppressive, supported by rough-hewn beams of petrified wood. The air was hot, humid, and thick with the cloying sweetness of the glowing glass jars lined up on stone tables. They pulsed with a soft light, the markings that must be the stasis runes keeping my stolen potential alive.
In the center of the room, half-embedded in the rock wall, was the Titan fragment. It looked like it could be part of a ribcage, but it was the size of a cathedral, bleached white and weeping a dark, viscous energy that pooled on the floor. Somehow I knew that if I had been there in person that energy would have been invisible to me.
Around it, the circle of robed figures chanted.
They were a mix of the ragged Order of Khaos cultists and Keepers in their pristine grey robes, traitors who had sided with the old regime. They swayed in unison, their voices rising in adiscordant drone that made the Skal’s sensitive antennae twitch with pain.
Or maybe that was irritation.
Meat that makes noise,the Skal thought.Annoying meat.
I focused my attention,ourattention, on the figure standing in the center of the circle.
Keeper Marissa.
She looked exactly as I remembered her from years ago. Tall, severe, her white Healer’s robes spotless despite the filth of the excavation. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her face a mask of clinical detachment as she conducted the chanting with small, precise movements of her hands. She stood before the largest cluster of jars, drawing the dark energy from the Titan bone and weaving it into the stasis fields.
Her,I projected into the Skal’s mind, tightening the metaphysical leash.The White One. Stop her. But do not eat the jars.
The Skal chittered, a sound of grinding plates that echoed in the chamber.
The chanting faltered.
Heads turned. The cultists nearest the tunnel entrance froze, their eyes widening as they saw the nightmare crouched in the shadows.
"What is that thing?" one of the Keepers screamed as they backpedaled, trying to get away from the Skal.
Attack,I ordered.
The Skal launched itself.
It was an explosion of violence. I felt the immense power in the creature’s limbs as it sprang, closing the distance in a blur of black armor. The Keeper’s bones shattered like sugar glass under the impact of the Skal’s primary claw.
Then came the feeding.
It was chaos. Absolute, wet, slurping, crunching chaos. I tried to direct it, tried to force the creature to carve a path straight toward Marissa, but the moment the first drop of blood hit the air, the Skal’s discipline fractured.
I didn't know how it had remained alive in the water by the amplifier, but it was starving now and a full course meal had just landed in front of it.
The cultists panicked, breaking formation, running in every direction. To the Skal, this wasn't a tactical engagement; it was a buffet where the food had started running.
A cultist in rags lunged with a jagged dagger. I felt the echo of steel against the armored shell, insignificant and annoying. The Skal whipped a tentacled limb around, catching the man by the waist. I felt the sickeningpopof ribs giving way, the warm gush of fluids. The creature tossed the broken body aside and lunged for another.
