Chapter 216 - Tentacles and Ashes VIII
The palace’s guards flew after the intruder, but dropped like flies, one by one. Each was frozen in turn and left to plummet back down to the earth while Claire sped away unmolested. The others chased after her in a hurry. Sylvia’s bubbles allowed them to stay within range, but the longmoose couldn’t be bothered to turn around and pick them up. She was hardly in the mood to talk to those that wouldn’t listen to her merciful suggestion. None of them understood what it meant to be an unplundered city before the Cadrian war machine.
“Whatever. It isn’t my problem.”
Muttering the dismissal out of her breath, she pushed herself to go faster, pounding her wings against the air as she soared towards the summit. They were already a dozen kilometers above the ground, so high up that the snow had taken hold, but the mountain’s peak was still far away. The stone fortress was rife with plantlife, even in its everfrost crown, but no other creatures were present. There were no squirrels to collect the nuts, no insects to pollinate the flowers, and no bats to harvest the fruits. Only trees and shrubs as far as the eye could see.
The ecosystem was maintained entirely through the dungeon’s functionality. Fruits that fell to the ground would be deleted without a trace, their nuts would be unceremoniously removed, and dead trees were replaced not with sprouts, but fully grown individuals inserted by the system. That much was clear from the state of the forest and the lack of new growths, but it made little sense. The lack of change made it feel unnatural, uncanny, like something was off even though it was more perfect in theory, a snapshot of a moment crafted by a divine.
“Claire!” A shout pulled her from her thoughts before she could analyze it in detail.
“What?”
“Uhmmm… Well, uh… Are you still mad?” It came from the fox, who had paddled on ahead of the rest of the group. She zipped past the scalewarden and landed on her snout, her ears twitching while she fiddled with her tail.
“I was never mad.”
“Yeah, right! If you weren’t mad, you wouldn’t have suddenly taken off like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was testing the guards.”
“Uh huh.”
Ignoring the furball’s remark, Claire threw back her head and looped around to grab all the others. She popped their bubbles in turn, landing them on her back as she resumed her climb at a more gentle pace. She was still bitter, of course, but the fresh air had cleared her mind.
“You didn’t need to burst their bubbles,” said Sylvia. “I think they’re probably gonna need them ‘cause the air is kinda starting to get a bit bad.”
The statement was met with a tilt of the head.
“I mean uhm… it’s kinda hard to breathe because there isn’t really much oxygen and stuff, and the mist is kinda noxious too.” Sylvia put a bubble around each person’s face as she spoke, the half-snake the only exception. “I think you just don’t notice ‘cause you don’t really breathe.”
Claire tilted her head even further. “I breathe. I’m breathing right now.” She inhaled, taking deeper breaths than usual for emphasis.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s not like you actually need to breathe, right?”
Another degree was added to the longmoose’s tilt.
“Like uhmmm… Like how you don’t actually breathe underwater.”
“I still breathe,” said Claire. “I just breathe water.”
“I’m not really sure that’s the same thing,” said Lia, with an awkward smile. “But Sylvia’s right. I was starting to find myself a little bit short of breath.”
“I, for one, found processing the air outright impossible,” said Arciel. “And as for Matthias… I believe him to be struggling even with the fox’s magic.”
Following the squid’s eyes, she found that the mantis’ body had gone from a bright emerald green to a deep blue. His mandibles were twitching uncontrollably, and he was extremely lethargic, barely reacting to all the curious looks that suddenly found themselves on him.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, with a click of the jaw. “I would sooner die than miss the opportunity to fight the divine protector.”
Claire shrugged and turned her eyes back on the summit. Sylvia mirrored the motion, but none of the others found themselves in agreement.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” said Natalya, with a strained smile. “You’ve already lost most of your fireproof gear.”
“Shouldn’t matter,” he said, between laboured clicks. “You don’t have any either, and it isn’t like it was ever all that useful.”
“Matthias, I believe we agreed that you were to step in only in the case that I was in danger again?”
“You’ll be in danger as soon as the fight begins.”
“Of course. I was a fool to think that you would obey orders…”
Sighing, the witch adjusted her hat and unfastened her hair. A few dozen strands detached from her ponytail and formed a particularly long tentacle that slid past Lia’s shoulders and lightly prodded the fox sitting up front.
“Mmmnn?” Sylvia turned around with a tilt of the head. “What’s up?”
“Might I ask for a favour? I wish for you to whisk this idiot off to wherever it was you sent the manatee.”
“Wait! Princess! I promise I’ll stay put! At least let me watch!”
“Uhhmmmm…” Sylvia looked between them.
“His complaints are irrelevant,” said the squid. “He falls under my command, and it is under my orders that he is present.”
“No! Please! No matter what you do, do not send me away!” He breathed as quickly as he could, his rear inflating and deflating like a pump. Despite his efforts, his skin was still mostly discoloured, with only a few bits here and there returning to the usual shade.
“Do not mind him. Proceed.”
“Well uhm… okay.” Sylvia drew a circle with her paws, and after opening a portal behind the mantis, pushed him through it with a wave of the tail. He flailed as best he could and even hooked his scythes on the portal’s sides, but he was unable to resist the magical displacement for long and soon found himself on the other side.
“I know it’s a little late to be asking, but where did you send him?” Lia pulled out her notebook as she watched the rift close.
“Back to the city,” said Sylvia. “It’s the only place I could really think of, except for maybe the boat.”
“That sounds safe enough,” said the cat. “I just hope Marcelle doesn’t get caught up in something while we aren’t looking again.”
“I know, right!? That silly goofball’s gotten herself in nothing but trouble,” giggled the hat.
They continued to chat until Claire crested the mountain and shot above its peak. Though its top half had been covered in layers of ice and snow, the very tip was entirely devoid of the cold. It was also not as sharp and pointy as their distant perspectives had otherwise suggested. The summit ended in a large plateau more than a hundred meters in every direction. Its entrance was situated by a flight of stairs made of a thousand steps, which was further preceded by a jagged path leading up the side of the mountain's horn.
Around the mesa lay a small forest, a garden of deciduous trees that lacked the ability to thrive as they had so far above the clouds. The plants themselves were as abnormal as their circumstances, their leaves jagged and purple as the noxious mists. But strange as it was, the vegetation played second fiddle to the temple that occupied the summit.
Like all the other arvidian buildings, it was made almost entirely of sticks and clay. The walls, however, were more processed than the standard fare. The only dead plant matter visible upon it was paper, large white sheets with a faint brownish tint cut to perfectly fit the walls’ dimensions. There were illustrations inked upon the pages, paintings of ducks and the opponents they fought, their deaths fueled by depictions of the protector’s purifying flame.
While none of the dungeon’s other temples bore any semblance to a god’s domain, Claire found that the one laid out in front of her stirred the power resting within her bones. But it wasn’t the same. What she felt from it was not a searing pain, a roar of dominance that could not be resisted, but a horrifying disgust. Her proximity alone fueled the urge to vomit, a sensation that only grew stronger the longer she looked.
Rearing her head back, she began charging her throat with mana, but she stopped short of unleashing it. She gulped the breath back down, dispersing the raw magic through her circuits as she lowered herself in front of the front gate.
“Why’d you stop?” asked Lia.
The lyrkress stayed silent and ushered the others off her head before returning to her humanoid form. She trudged up to the door, speaking only as she raised a hand to its frame.
“I didn’t feel like it.”
“What about the plan?” whispered the cat. “Weren’t we supposed to start with an air raid?”
“We’re changing it. Just trust me and play along.” The snake rapped her knuckles against the wood. She barely touched it, but there was a resounding echo on the other side of the door, likely the result of one spell or another. “There’s no point in winning if I don’t do it the right way.”
“Uhm… I mean I kinda get it, but I think you’re just being silly,” said Sylvia.
“I know.” The lyrkress bit her lip. “But she’s a warrior. She deserves this, at least.”
“Iunno if that really even matters,” said the fox. “You’re gonna be trying to kill her in a few minutes anyway.”
“I know.”
The door opened before Claire had a chance to elaborate, revealing a sleepy looking pink duck that immediately snapped awake upon seeing her visitors’ faces. She took a moment to stare before slamming the gate shut and locking it behind her.
Eye twitching, the lyrkress knocked on the door again. Her strikes grew more powerful and vigorous with time, pestering the temple’s owner until she finally gave in and swung the entrance open.
“This is a holy site, not a place for a villain like you,” spat the duck. Her previous, disheveled appearance was gone; her messy feathers had been pruned back into place, and she wore not a nightgown, but a series of black, priestly linens carefully embroidered with layers of gold. It was the sort of appearance that demanded respect, the sort of thing that one would only wear in hopes of being acknowledged by the divine,.
“I have a request.” Claire, however, was unfazed.
The duck glared at her briefly, but opened the door wider after a brief delay. Her tentacles remained on the charms near her waists throughout, ready to retaliate in case of a lyrkrian attack. “Fine. But the demon,” her eyes shot briefly to the intruder’s hat, “stays outside.”
“H-huh? Demon? I’m not a demon! I’m a fox!” cried the satanic beast.
“I don’t care what claims you make, demon, you’re not allowed inside,” said the duck. “The rest of you are free to enter, but this is my shrine, and we will be abiding by my rules. Step out of line, and I will immediately burn you to a crisp.”
“Oh, come on!” cried the forest critter. “Claire’s just gonna argue with you until you let me in any—” Sylvia spoke until she was lifted off the aforementioned vehicle’s head and floated away. “Wait, Claire!? What the heck!?”
“Stay there until we’re done.”
“Huh!? Wait a second! Claiiiiire! You can’t just ditch me!”
For all the shouting she did, little of it was to any effect. Feigning deafness, Claire walked through the door, dragged the other two inside, and shut it behind her.
Sylvia ran at the entrance and pushed on it with a more-than-insignificant amount of force, but it failed to budge. She was repelled by a barrier when she tried to float above it or dig underneath. She even tried to teleport her way in, but the spell ended in failure and left her exactly where she was.
While she struggled to get through, the others followed the duck into a large building and down a series of paper-lined halls. Several turns later, they entered a guest room whose far wall featured a revolving door made of a clear quartz. The translucent structure made up half the room’s length and provided an entrance into a bright, moonlit courtyard, lined with beautiful, purple flowers.
There were no chairs in the room, only finely polished roosts that sat just off the floor. At the center was a large bowl-shaped table already set with a gourd and several shallow dishes. The home’s owner waddled inside and situated herself atop one of the platforms facing the table. With her wings, she gestured for her guests to join her. They did attempt to follow, but found it difficult to seat themselves atop the thin beams of wood.
The bird filled five dishes with the gourd’s contents and passed one to each visitor, before downing her own serving in a single gulp. Claire eyed the murky liquor, but soon swallowed it as did their silent host. It was a potent drink, strong enough to burn the insides of her throat, but not in a way that was unpleasant.
“Why are you here?” The bird spoke after all of the guests, including the lizard, finished their first servings.
“To stab you,” said Claire, nonchalantly. She formed a small piece of ice in front of her index finger and fiddled with it, twirling it around her fingertips as she kept her eyes on the discoloured bird. “Fight me. You don’t have the right to refuse.”
The bird raised a brow. “Do you know who I am?”
“A stupid duck.”
“I am Meltys, the divine protector of Ariandor.” She spread her wings and unleashed her divine aura. “I am a god. You cannot defeat me.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “You are far too weak and frail to be a god.” She crushed the ice in her hands as she spoke, after shaping it into a familiar avian form.
“I am far from weak.”
Meltys slowly brought the tips of her wings together and emitted a pulse of divine energy. The squid, the cat, and the moose all sprang to their feet with their weapons ready, but only the lattermost held her position. Natalya dropped her sword and clutched at her throat, whilst the mage wobbled backwards with her chest heaving and her face turning pale.
She stopped choking as her tattoos began to glow, but she continued to pant, gasping for air through the bubble wrapped around her head.
Meltys kept her eyes focused on the lyrkress, waiting, but Claire was unaffected. The curse had washed over her like a calm summer breeze.
“That wasn’t one of Builledracht’s.”
“I did nothing but remove my protection and allow the land to afflict them with its blight,” replied the bird. “Now choose. Leave in peace, or watch them die.”
“Are you blind, stupid, or both?”
The curse-resistant dracoqilin rolled her eyes as she grabbed the cat with her tail and called upon her own divine force. Golden energy flowed through Natalya’s body, purifying the rotting malediction that had flooded through her circuits. She offered to treat Arciel the same way, beckoning with her rear appendage, but the mage shook her head and steadied herself with her staff.
“This is but a minor affliction,” said the vampire. “Griselda’s blessing shall cure it momentarily.”
Nodding with her tail, the lyrkress called her lizard into her hands and pointed him at the arviad. He morphed as she moved him, turning into a glaive with a long jagged tip.
“Divinity alone doesn’t make you a god.” She peeled back her hood with a vector, fluttering her ears as she assumed her lyrkrian form. “But if you really are, then all the better. Slaying a deity will do wonders for my classes.”
Meltys shot the snake-moose a glare as she extended her tentacles and grabbed the talismans hanging off her waist.
Negotiations had failed.
It was time for violence.
Chapter 216 - Tentacles and Ashes VIII
The palace’s guards flew after the intruder, but dropped like flies, one by one. Each was frozen in turn and left to plummet back down to the earth while Claire sped away unmolested. The others chased after her in a hurry. Sylvia’s bubbles allowed them to stay within range, but the longmoose couldn’t be bothered to turn around and pick them up. She was hardly in the mood to talk to those that wouldn’t listen to her merciful suggestion. None of them understood what it meant to be an unplundered city before the Cadrian war machine.
“Whatever. It isn’t my problem.”
Muttering the dismissal out of her breath, she pushed herself to go faster, pounding her wings against the air as she soared towards the summit. They were already a dozen kilometers above the ground, so high up that the snow had taken hold, but the mountain’s peak was still far away. The stone fortress was rife with plantlife, even in its everfrost crown, but no other creatures were present. There were no squirrels to collect the nuts, no insects to pollinate the flowers, and no bats to harvest the fruits. Only trees and shrubs as far as the eye could see.
The ecosystem was maintained entirely through the dungeon’s functionality. Fruits that fell to the ground would be deleted without a trace, their nuts would be unceremoniously removed, and dead trees were replaced not with sprouts, but fully grown individuals inserted by the system. That much was clear from the state of the forest and the lack of new growths, but it made little sense. The lack of change made it feel unnatural, uncanny, like something was off even though it was more perfect in theory, a snapshot of a moment crafted by a divine.
“Claire!” A shout pulled her from her thoughts before she could analyze it in detail.
“What?”
“Uhmmm… Well, uh… Are you still mad?” It came from the fox, who had paddled on ahead of the rest of the group. She zipped past the scalewarden and landed on her snout, her ears twitching while she fiddled with her tail.
“I was never mad.”
“Yeah, right! If you weren’t mad, you wouldn’t have suddenly taken off like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was testing the guards.”
“Uh huh.”
Ignoring the furball’s remark, Claire threw back her head and looped around to grab all the others. She popped their bubbles in turn, landing them on her back as she resumed her climb at a more gentle pace. She was still bitter, of course, but the fresh air had cleared her mind.
“You didn’t need to burst their bubbles,” said Sylvia. “I think they’re probably gonna need them ‘cause the air is kinda starting to get a bit bad.”
The statement was met with a tilt of the head.
“I mean uhm… it’s kinda hard to breathe because there isn’t really much oxygen and stuff, and the mist is kinda noxious too.” Sylvia put a bubble around each person’s face as she spoke, the half-snake the only exception. “I think you just don’t notice ‘cause you don’t really breathe.”
Claire tilted her head even further. “I breathe. I’m breathing right now.” She inhaled, taking deeper breaths than usual for emphasis.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s not like you actually need to breathe, right?”
Another degree was added to the longmoose’s tilt.
“Like uhmmm… Like how you don’t actually breathe underwater.”
“I still breathe,” said Claire. “I just breathe water.”
“I’m not really sure that’s the same thing,” said Lia, with an awkward smile. “But Sylvia’s right. I was starting to find myself a little bit short of breath.”
“I, for one, found processing the air outright impossible,” said Arciel. “And as for Matthias… I believe him to be struggling even with the fox’s magic.”
Following the squid’s eyes, she found that the mantis’ body had gone from a bright emerald green to a deep blue. His mandibles were twitching uncontrollably, and he was extremely lethargic, barely reacting to all the curious looks that suddenly found themselves on him.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, with a click of the jaw. “I would sooner die than miss the opportunity to fight the divine protector.”
Claire shrugged and turned her eyes back on the summit. Sylvia mirrored the motion, but none of the others found themselves in agreement.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” said Natalya, with a strained smile. “You’ve already lost most of your fireproof gear.”
“Shouldn’t matter,” he said, between laboured clicks. “You don’t have any either, and it isn’t like it was ever all that useful.”
“Matthias, I believe we agreed that you were to step in only in the case that I was in danger again?”
“You’ll be in danger as soon as the fight begins.”
“Of course. I was a fool to think that you would obey orders…”
Sighing, the witch adjusted her hat and unfastened her hair. A few dozen strands detached from her ponytail and formed a particularly long tentacle that slid past Lia’s shoulders and lightly prodded the fox sitting up front.
“Mmmnn?” Sylvia turned around with a tilt of the head. “What’s up?”
“Might I ask for a favour? I wish for you to whisk this idiot off to wherever it was you sent the manatee.”
“Wait! Princess! I promise I’ll stay put! At least let me watch!”
“Uhhmmmm…” Sylvia looked between them.
“His complaints are irrelevant,” said the squid. “He falls under my command, and it is under my orders that he is present.”
“No! Please! No matter what you do, do not send me away!” He breathed as quickly as he could, his rear inflating and deflating like a pump. Despite his efforts, his skin was still mostly discoloured, with only a few bits here and there returning to the usual shade.
“Do not mind him. Proceed.”
“Well uhm… okay.” Sylvia drew a circle with her paws, and after opening a portal behind the mantis, pushed him through it with a wave of the tail. He flailed as best he could and even hooked his scythes on the portal’s sides, but he was unable to resist the magical displacement for long and soon found himself on the other side.
“I know it’s a little late to be asking, but where did you send him?” Lia pulled out her notebook as she watched the rift close.
“Back to the city,” said Sylvia. “It’s the only place I could really think of, except for maybe the boat.”
“That sounds safe enough,” said the cat. “I just hope Marcelle doesn’t get caught up in something while we aren’t looking again.”
“I know, right!? That silly goofball’s gotten herself in nothing but trouble,” giggled the hat.
They continued to chat until Claire crested the mountain and shot above its peak. Though its top half had been covered in layers of ice and snow, the very tip was entirely devoid of the cold. It was also not as sharp and pointy as their distant perspectives had otherwise suggested. The summit ended in a large plateau more than a hundred meters in every direction. Its entrance was situated by a flight of stairs made of a thousand steps, which was further preceded by a jagged path leading up the side of the mountain's horn.
Around the mesa lay a small forest, a garden of deciduous trees that lacked the ability to thrive as they had so far above the clouds. The plants themselves were as abnormal as their circumstances, their leaves jagged and purple as the noxious mists. But strange as it was, the vegetation played second fiddle to the temple that occupied the summit.
Like all the other arvidian buildings, it was made almost entirely of sticks and clay. The walls, however, were more processed than the standard fare. The only dead plant matter visible upon it was paper, large white sheets with a faint brownish tint cut to perfectly fit the walls’ dimensions. There were illustrations inked upon the pages, paintings of ducks and the opponents they fought, their deaths fueled by depictions of the protector’s purifying flame.
While none of the dungeon’s other temples bore any semblance to a god’s domain, Claire found that the one laid out in front of her stirred the power resting within her bones. But it wasn’t the same. What she felt from it was not a searing pain, a roar of dominance that could not be resisted, but a horrifying disgust. Her proximity alone fueled the urge to vomit, a sensation that only grew stronger the longer she looked.
Rearing her head back, she began charging her throat with mana, but she stopped short of unleashing it. She gulped the breath back down, dispersing the raw magic through her circuits as she lowered herself in front of the front gate.
“Why’d you stop?” asked Lia.
The lyrkress stayed silent and ushered the others off her head before returning to her humanoid form. She trudged up to the door, speaking only as she raised a hand to its frame.
“I didn’t feel like it.”
“What about the plan?” whispered the cat. “Weren’t we supposed to start with an air raid?”
“We’re changing it. Just trust me and play along.” The snake rapped her knuckles against the wood. She barely touched it, but there was a resounding echo on the other side of the door, likely the result of one spell or another. “There’s no point in winning if I don’t do it the right way.”
“Uhm… I mean I kinda get it, but I think you’re just being silly,” said Sylvia.
“I know.” The lyrkress bit her lip. “But she’s a warrior. She deserves this, at least.”
“Iunno if that really even matters,” said the fox. “You’re gonna be trying to kill her in a few minutes anyway.”
“I know.”
The door opened before Claire had a chance to elaborate, revealing a sleepy looking pink duck that immediately snapped awake upon seeing her visitors’ faces. She took a moment to stare before slamming the gate shut and locking it behind her.
Eye twitching, the lyrkress knocked on the door again. Her strikes grew more powerful and vigorous with time, pestering the temple’s owner until she finally gave in and swung the entrance open.
“This is a holy site, not a place for a villain like you,” spat the duck. Her previous, disheveled appearance was gone; her messy feathers had been pruned back into place, and she wore not a nightgown, but a series of black, priestly linens carefully embroidered with layers of gold. It was the sort of appearance that demanded respect, the sort of thing that one would only wear in hopes of being acknowledged by the divine,.
“I have a request.” Claire, however, was unfazed.
The duck glared at her briefly, but opened the door wider after a brief delay. Her tentacles remained on the charms near her waists throughout, ready to retaliate in case of a lyrkrian attack. “Fine. But the demon,” her eyes shot briefly to the intruder’s hat, “stays outside.”
“H-huh? Demon? I’m not a demon! I’m a fox!” cried the satanic beast.
“I don’t care what claims you make, demon, you’re not allowed inside,” said the duck. “The rest of you are free to enter, but this is my shrine, and we will be abiding by my rules. Step out of line, and I will immediately burn you to a crisp.”
“Oh, come on!” cried the forest critter. “Claire’s just gonna argue with you until you let me in any—” Sylvia spoke until she was lifted off the aforementioned vehicle’s head and floated away. “Wait, Claire!? What the heck!?”
“Stay there until we’re done.”
“Huh!? Wait a second! Claiiiiire! You can’t just ditch me!”
For all the shouting she did, little of it was to any effect. Feigning deafness, Claire walked through the door, dragged the other two inside, and shut it behind her.
Sylvia ran at the entrance and pushed on it with a more-than-insignificant amount of force, but it failed to budge. She was repelled by a barrier when she tried to float above it or dig underneath. She even tried to teleport her way in, but the spell ended in failure and left her exactly where she was.
While she struggled to get through, the others followed the duck into a large building and down a series of paper-lined halls. Several turns later, they entered a guest room whose far wall featured a revolving door made of a clear quartz. The translucent structure made up half the room’s length and provided an entrance into a bright, moonlit courtyard, lined with beautiful, purple flowers.
There were no chairs in the room, only finely polished roosts that sat just off the floor. At the center was a large bowl-shaped table already set with a gourd and several shallow dishes. The home’s owner waddled inside and situated herself atop one of the platforms facing the table. With her wings, she gestured for her guests to join her. They did attempt to follow, but found it difficult to seat themselves atop the thin beams of wood.
The bird filled five dishes with the gourd’s contents and passed one to each visitor, before downing her own serving in a single gulp. Claire eyed the murky liquor, but soon swallowed it as did their silent host. It was a potent drink, strong enough to burn the insides of her throat, but not in a way that was unpleasant.
“Why are you here?” The bird spoke after all of the guests, including the lizard, finished their first servings.
“To stab you,” said Claire, nonchalantly. She formed a small piece of ice in front of her index finger and fiddled with it, twirling it around her fingertips as she kept her eyes on the discoloured bird. “Fight me. You don’t have the right to refuse.”
The bird raised a brow. “Do you know who I am?”
“A stupid duck.”
“I am Meltys, the divine protector of Ariandor.” She spread her wings and unleashed her divine aura. “I am a god. You cannot defeat me.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “You are far too weak and frail to be a god.” She crushed the ice in her hands as she spoke, after shaping it into a familiar avian form.
“I am far from weak.”
Meltys slowly brought the tips of her wings together and emitted a pulse of divine energy. The squid, the cat, and the moose all sprang to their feet with their weapons ready, but only the lattermost held her position. Natalya dropped her sword and clutched at her throat, whilst the mage wobbled backwards with her chest heaving and her face turning pale.
She stopped choking as her tattoos began to glow, but she continued to pant, gasping for air through the bubble wrapped around her head.
Meltys kept her eyes focused on the lyrkress, waiting, but Claire was unaffected. The curse had washed over her like a calm summer breeze.
“That wasn’t one of Builledracht’s.”
“I did nothing but remove my protection and allow the land to afflict them with its blight,” replied the bird. “Now choose. Leave in peace, or watch them die.”
“Are you blind, stupid, or both?”
The curse-resistant dracoqilin rolled her eyes as she grabbed the cat with her tail and called upon her own divine force. Golden energy flowed through Natalya’s body, purifying the rotting malediction that had flooded through her circuits. She offered to treat Arciel the same way, beckoning with her rear appendage, but the mage shook her head and steadied herself with her staff.
“This is but a minor affliction,” said the vampire. “Griselda’s blessing shall cure it momentarily.”
Nodding with her tail, the lyrkress called her lizard into her hands and pointed him at the arviad. He morphed as she moved him, turning into a glaive with a long jagged tip.
“Divinity alone doesn’t make you a god.” She peeled back her hood with a vector, fluttering her ears as she assumed her lyrkrian form. “But if you really are, then all the better. Slaying a deity will do wonders for my classes.”
Meltys shot the snake-moose a glare as she extended her tentacles and grabbed the talismans hanging off her waist.
Negotiations had failed.
It was time for violence.
