Chapter One
Vittea rubbed her tired eyes, blinking away the drowsiness of a long slumber. She was very cozy, she found. Whatever she was wrapped in was delectably soft as she ran her fingers through the fabric while her eyes slowly opened. She was buried in a mound of off-white blankets, with a stark black sky above her, only broken by the intense silvery light of the moon directly overhead.
She struggled to stand, eventually settling on just sitting down. She could look around either way. There were blankets spanning off into the distance, an endless sea of cozy fabric. All the cloth swept up and towards a large mound in front of her. The mound started to shift and morph until a head popped out of a gap in the blankets. Long silver-white hair flowed down the soft hill, but Vittea gasped as two enormous moth wings unfurled behind, and she could see that the large hill with wings and hair also had a head, and was likely a person. She had kind, soft cheeks and wide, attentive eyes as she gazed down at Vittea, her wings fluttering softly as the large lady drew her face close.
Vittea held still. Something about the dark, pupil-less eyes felt like they saw every detail of her, but some part of her hoped that if she stood frozen then the large winged lady wouldn’t attack her. The figure chuckled at her efforts, one of her wings reaching down to gently caress Vittea’s face as a warm naterbak voice echoed through the sheets that still held her in their comfortable embrace.
“Hello, meek little spirit. I know you’ve been asleep for some time, but I need you to wake up. There’s things to be done, after all.” The pile stirred as the woman sat up, the blankets falling aside to reveal her form.
She was, in Vittea’s eyes, beautiful. Her long, flowing dress partially hid the chitinous plates lining her arms and legs. Her dark bangs were split by two puffy antennae extending up from her forehead. And her eyes, while human-shaped, were made of hundreds of smaller lenses, Vittea’s stunned face reflecting back at her tenfold. The woman yawned, her mouth splitting open at the sides to reveal two small claws, one on each side of her mouth. She was clearly inhuman, ignoring her enormous size, but it fascinated Vittea.
The enormous moth woman looked back down at her, gasping and covering her mouth in a surprisingly demure motion. “Oh, how rude of me! I didn’t introduce myself. You must be so confused, suddenly popping into existence after so long!” With one graceful sweep of her hand the blankets rose from beneath Vittea, shifting into a more comfortable seat, allowing her to sit back and relax.
“I, my dear, am the goddess Leppida, and it is your pleasure to make my acquaintance.” The enormous woman, Leppida, giggled softly, her multifaceted eyes sparkling as she watched Vittea’s reactions. “I will make this short, because I would like to get back to my nap, as pleasant as you are.”
“I-” Vittea started, but was quickly interrupted by a graceful wave of Leppida’s hand. “Never mind that dear, what I have to say is important. We can answer your questions later.” She brought her hands together in a rather magisterial gesture, peering at Vittea over her long, segmented fingers. “In my world, we gods have special mortals that we patronize, and in turn they effectively wear our livery, their deeds contributing to the renown of their patron deity. My relatives…” Leppida sighed, clearly trying to withhold her frustration, before returning her unsettling, yet captivating gaze to Vittea, who was sitting as still as she could to not disrupt the goddess’s spiel.
“Well, they seem to think that not having an adventurer with my patronage is unbecoming of someone of my standing,” she continued with another sigh. “So, here you are. Your soul was ripe for the picking, ready and eager to jump out of the ether, and I graciously accepted.” She smiles warmly, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You are to be my first sponsee, responsible for raising my status among my peers and making your mark on the world in my exquisite name.”
Vittea was stunned. She had only just woken up from…death apparently, and this massive goddess was telling her to go earn her some positive reputation. She had so many questions! “Wh-what’s the w-” Again, Leppida waved her hand and Vittea went silent. “Yes yes, this must be overwhelming, but I trust that you are a quick learner. I did pick you specifically, after all.” She winked at Vittea, leaning her face down closer to the smaller woman. Vittea tried to lean back, but her blanket chair held strangely firm, keeping her inches from those massive multi-faceted eyes.
“I’m sure you are familiar with the concept. Dungeons, magic, multiple planes of reality, various species living together, lots of different gods with their own domains, it’s really not that unusual, in the scheme of things. And to be honest, I have no real plans for you. My only request is that you don’t tarnish my name. After all, you are being sent specifically to increase my renown and, much more importantly, get my precious family members off of my backside. Understood?”
Vittea stared at her. She..had some vague memories of before she had been…sleeping? The goddess had called her a soul. Did she die at some point? When she tried to remember, everything was fuzzy and hard to keep her focus on. However, the concepts Leppida was talking about were vaguely familiar, and the idea of a world with magic was legitimately exciting to her. She could feel that she came from a world without magic, and the temptation to explore the magic of this new world was so strong that no matter what Leppida said or offered, she would probably say yes just to get a chance to play with it.
“Um…yes, I thi-”
“Good, good.” Leppida smiled her odd smile and leaned back into her own mound of soft blankets. “Now, you’ll get some powers, as fitting of an envoy of my wonderful self. Something in the vein of my domains, you should be so lucky.” She twirled her segmented arm and suddenly the pile Vittea was sitting on shifted and lifted forwards towards a growing hole into the padded floor, dropping down into an impenetrable darkness.
Vittea grew increasingly worried as her seat kept moving closer to the hole. “I don’t know the specifics, so don’t ask. Part of the game and all that, you understand.” She carried on with a very put-upon sigh. “I only know that you will arrive in some sort of dungeon. We don’t get to see the inner workings, it’s in the actual rules. So, she gets to do that alllll by herself, thank you very much.” Leppida covered her mouth as she giggled, and with another gesture Vittea’s seat heaved, and if not for her firm grip upon the cloth she would have fallen. She looked up at the goddess with concern only to see her toss a silken pillow her way with an impressive amount of force. “Oh get down there already, won’t you?,” was the last thing Vittea heard before darkness overwhelmed her, and she felt herself let go.
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Chapter Two
Vittea landed hard on a much less comfortable floor, the wind knocked out of her in an uncomfortable ‘oof’. Through blurry eyes she could see a coiling portal of magic, catching a glimpse of the vast blanketed realm before the deep blue magic vanished. She was still a little stunned from her fall but she remembered that she was supposed to be dropped into a dungeon, which she could only assume might be hostile. She had to make sure she was safe first, and freak out later. She just had to get this damn puffy shit off of her head.
She waved her hand at the mysterious substance, to tufts of which were stuck to her head, but she felt a jolt of pain go through her when she smacked them. What the fuck? Were those…? Vittea gave them a gentle brush instead, and gasped again when she felt her finger touch herself. There were two puffy little antennae on her forehead. What had that goddess done to her? What the fuck even-
Safety. Focus! She scrambled onto her unsteady feet, her hand pushed against her temple to stave off the headache she could feel building, and tried to get an actual look around her. Her eyes opened, but there were no searing spears of light that she had expected. The library she saw around her was lit by a soft, low blue glow emanating from the various torches mounted to the walls between the shelves, lit by a curious sapphire flame. The theme here seemed to be blue.
She leaned against the closest bookshelf, scanning the surrounding area. It looked like a small reading room, with a single small hallway leading out into the rest of the library. More importantly, she couldn’t see anyone, or anything, threatening. It was just her here in this strange, glowing oasis. Sure, she thought, there could be traps or hidden threats still, but she didn’t really have a way to deal with that right now. All she wanted was somewhere vaguely safe so that she could get her bearings, and here it was.
She shuffled towards a particularly fluffy-looking sofa and flopped into it, throwing up a cloud of dust. It made Vittea cough and sputter but it cleared away fairly quickly. She looked around again, worried that something out in the dark had heard her careless noise, but nothing stirred. Still, she figured, she should probably try to move more quietly, but that was as may be. She sighed, looking up at the dark ceiling above her. It was impossible to tell if it was simply dark, or went on forever, but she wasn’t in the mood to care about that right now.
Damn that Leppida, she thought. She wasn’t too shocked at the idea of a god being capricious, but she really didn’t appreciate it when it led to her being deposited in some random dungeon with no gear or guidance! What was she supposed to do, anyways? She didn’t even have a-
Wait. Leppida had mentioned granting her powers before she had rudely dumped Vittea into her current conundrum. And yes, there were thousands of questions crowding her mind, but getting armed and prepared, now that she was fairly certain she wasn’t currently in danger, was her main goal. She sat up, stretching her shoulders as she racked her brain. Leppida had said some keywords. Dungeons, magic, realms. Magic...Magic!
Vittea was in a world with magic! And Leppida had said she’d have powers ‘befitting her,’ so…how did she access them? She waved her hands in the air in what she thought might be secret mystical patterns, but nothing. All it did was stir the dust around, making her sneeze. Achoo.
Alright, so how did she go about accessing magic? Vittea closed her eyes. It had to be one of those ‘feel it as you go’ things, right? Or was it like, math-magic? She hoped it wasn’t math. She could do it, but it wasn’t fun. Wait. She could feel something, pulling at the edge of her focus, but she couldn’t quite get her mind around it. Maybe if she could define it better? All she felt was a vague fuzz. “Hmmm. Magic!” she said, waiting for any sort of change. Nothing. She had some memories in the back of her head, things her soul remembered from its previous life. Not in any real detail, but she could feel her preferences and her experience as she continued to live in this new, slightly moth-like self. It was slightly eerie, but it was a little comforting that she wouldn’t have to figure out being a person all over again before she started on being a moth-person. One of those vague memories surfaced, and she realized, with a groan, what word to use.
She sighed. “Status.” As if waiting, a cheerfully blue screen with white text appeared in front of her eyes, with the spreadsheet layout she was slightly dreading. Dammit, she thought, of course it’s got game mechanics in it. It was so cliche, in her opinion. She could remember having watched, read, and played whatever fantasy she could get her hands on, and this trope was a classic.
It wasn’t like she was against it. Skills systems were fun, and she enjoyed fiddling with various builds in the games she couldn’t quite remember playing. But did it really have to be every time? The lack of creativity bothered her more than anything else, but oh well. She couldn’t find it in herself to care too much, not when magic was on the line.
Vittea (No Surname)
Species: Leppidopteran
Primary Class: Weaver
Secondary Class: Locked
Tertiary Class: Locked
Abilities:
Constitution: 8
Strength: 8
Agility: 10
Arcane: 12
Focus: 12
Skills:
Species Skills:
Leppida’s Silk Lvl 1
Antennae Control Lvl 1
Class Skills:
Arcane Sense Lvl 1
Silk Control Lvl 1
General Skills:
Bookworm Lvl 1
Textiles Lvl 1
At least it kept it simple. Things like this had submenus, right? She tapped the Arcane Sense skill, and a new blue square popped into existence over her main status page.
Arcane Sense:
A basic skill for spellcasters, enables the perception of magic. Higher levels grant sharper senses and expanded utility.
Huh. Succinct, she supposed. Wait a moment. she looked up at the bizarre blue torches hung up along in between the bookshelves. There had been something else there, the first time she saw them, and now that she looked again it stood out starkly. There was a sort of transparent, thick fluid surrounding the torches. It was being pulled up by the base and into the head, where it was consumed to fuel the spooky flame. Was that magic? There didn’t seem to be any tubes feeding the torches, but there was one small blue gem embedded in each of the holders bolted to the wall where the magic stuff was concentrated, shining with a gentle light. They were built with magic batteries installed, but how did the batteries refuel? Or, maybe, they had such enormous storage that there was no worry of running out. She doubted that. At least to her very novice eyes, the gems didn’t concentrate very much magic, only enough to fuel the torch.
The infinite mysteries contained within the torch aside, she could see magic! Not very well, and it was hard to make out any sort of detail yet, but this was her first time. She could see magic! She giggled happily, her feet kicking excitedly. Beyond excitement, she was happy. Knowing there was this massive magical puzzle out there and she was able to join in made her feel warm. She tapped the corner of the smaller text box, causing it to vanish and for the Status screen to come back into focus.
She paused, hovering her finger over Silk Control. With the name of her class, she supposed that it would be focused around the use of her silk, which gave her pause. She was definitely not human, not with her two, admittedly adorable, antennae, but her class and her species skills seemed to make it clear that she was only to become more unique and less human if she continued. She found herself oddly excited. She would watch herself grow in unimaginable ways, growing in power and form. The idea thrilled her.
She looked up the list at Leppida’s Silk. She supposed the lazy goddess didn’t actually dump her in the middle of a dungeon with nothing. Vittea tapped the skill, and another window popped up yet again, ever eager.
Leppida’s Silk:
A skill granted to all Leppida’s children, enables the production of magical silk from spinnerets. Higher levels increase the quality of the silk as well as how much can be produced.
From her what?! Vittea quickly sat upright, her hand frantically searching along her backside. She hadn’t noticed any sort of extended abdomen, since she had been able to lay back without much issue. She froze when her hand found an unexpected divot in the small of her back, her heart beating with shock, and some excitement. She hesitantly pulled up the back of her shirt that had been with her since her conversation with Leppida, if she could even call it that, and she froze. The fringe of her odd silken shirt rose, revealing an odd, small hole in her pale skin, in the small of her back just above the rise of her cheeks. It twitched, and she felt a small sticky strand on her finger.
Vittea jumped slightly at the sensation, and as she moved her hand pulled away, but the strand stayed with it, pulling more out of the odd hole. She could feel it come out of her, drawing from some pit inside her, and she realized she knew just how much she, um, had left. From the impression she got, she had a lot of silk to work with. But the sensation…it was bizarre, feeling something come out of a brand new orifice, the soft silk brushing against the sensitive skin of her spinneret.
She shivered as roughly a foot of silk slid out of her, following her hand onto the soft sofa she had settled herself on. It glimmered in the soft blue light. She couldn’t tell if it had a colour, it seemed to shimmer with whatever color it was fed. The torches gave it a cobalt silver glint as she brought it up to her eyes, rolling her fingers to get a better feel and look at the fibers. They were gossamer thin, thousands of little strands rolled and tangled together to make the silk she could feel on her fingers and sllipping out of her…new hole. So, this was one of her new tools? She could think of some ideas, but she had more to check out first.
With the discovery of her silk, her second class skill was very interesting to Vittea.
Silk Control:
The basic skill for the Weaver class. Allows control of the physical and magical attributes of produced silk. Requires the ability to create or craft silk.
Higher levels allow for better control of created silk, as well as the imbuement of more advanced magics.
As before, the wording seemed both oddly specific and annoying vague at the same time. It was clearly to her advantage to be able to control the silk she produced, but she could see the skill going to some arcane weaver just as much as a magical spider, or a moth like herself. She closed her eyes as she pinched the fabric between her fingers and tried to reach that fuzzy feeling inside of her, the magic that was waiting on the edge of her mind’s eye.
She could feel it, and with some focus she could direct it up from her core and down her arm into her fingers. A soft light pulsed from the silk, and she felt the magic move in, seeping into the soft fibers. She could only push the energy for a moment or two before she became exhausted, unable to hold the magic together in her mind. However, through the growing headache she heard a small ping, and saw the cheerful blue square pop up in front of her.
Congratulations!
You have cast your first spell: Enhance Material (Minor) ! +50 Class XP!
Arcane Sense Lvl 2!
Silk Control Lvl 2!
Oh. The system seemed to reward experimentation. She felt her control over her magic grow ever-so-slightly stronger and more fluid, but it was hard to tell. She wanted to spend more time exploring these new skills. It felt like there was so much for her to play with, and she seemed to have as much time as she-
The blue info screen was back, in urgent all-caps.
THE WITCH’S LIBRARY IS SHIFTING. FOR YOUR SAFETY, PLEASE DO NOT LINGER
Before she could fully read the message the room began to shake. Books shuddered and tumbled from the shelves as the shaking grew more violent. She leapt to her feet, almost immediately falling to her knees as another tremor shook the small reading area. More books were crashing to the ground around her, and she saw the two entrances to the room glow brightly. She had to pick, cause she sure as shit wasn’t staying here.
Vittea scrambled back to her feet just as she heard a shrill creak of pained wood, then an entire bookcase crashed down in front of her nose. She flailed backwards away from the wreckage, only to be struck in the shoulder by a waywards tome, knocking her to the side. Fucking shit, she thought, if I stay here any longer I’m mulched. No thinking, just leaving.
She threw herself towards the second glowing door as hard as she could, any finesse ignored in the simple rush to get the fuck out of there.
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Chapter Three
She felt a tingle similar to when she cast her first spell, but more complex and much louder, and then she was gone. She dropped to the floor in a crumpled pile as the portal deposited her three feet above the ground.
Oof.
Unlike last time she heard movement around her, and fumbled to her feet, her shaky vision clearing to reveal three odd-looking creatures in front of her. She was in a much larger room than before, though the walls were made up of the familiar dark bookshelves. The magical torches threw an azure light on the three odd entities, and Vittea took a shocked step backwards. Twisted creatures of torn paper and shredded leather, books mangled and filled with shuddering blue lightning lurched towards her, accompanied by the excited, ever-helpful Status Window.
Welcome to the Witch’s Library, Small debate-room, easy difficulty!
You have (Three) minutes.
Enemies Slain (0/4)
Fuck. But also… she had a few ideas from her short experiment with her magic. A more reckless part of her saw some opportunities in the enemies before her, but she had to move quickly. Not only was she on an actual timer, but the book monsters were starting to approach her. Their strange heads twisted and peered at her, their four limbs knocking books and chairs out of the way, the blue lightning that held their forms together scorching them as they passed by. They were not waiting for her to act.
Vittea reached for her lower back to pull silk from her spinnerets, but, to her shock, the silk leapt out to her, flowing out and around her hand. She could feel a small amount of control over the fibers, her magic flowing through them slightly easier than before. Those new skills were already showing their use. With no time for anything complicated, she extended her hand and willed her silk to shoot out at the nearest book-beast.
It didn’t exactly fire at high-velocity but it made it up with enthusiasm. The strand disconnected from her and wiggled off with excited energy towards the monster. The monster did little to avoid it on its trundle towards Vittea. It was only a strand with minor magical signals; it didn’t bother, which was its mistake.
The strand tangled around the twisted leather of the creature, and she gasped. She could see through the silk, sensing the magic that powered the monstrosity, and it was chaos. It was nothing like her own, friendly and clinging to her core, waiting for her attention. It was wild and unstable, which was too much of a shock, but what really surprised her was how loosely it was bound together. She could envision her magic inside the strand tangling up with the loose magic of the monster, and then she just…pulled.
With an audible pop, the paper limb was torn off of the monster along with the magic inside. The creature screamed, a piercing, buzzing scream that muddled her vision for a moment, then crumbled to the ground. It wasn’t dead, but it was much dimmer than before, unable to support its own weight.
She felt the power in her thread, screaming to move and be used. She didn’t want to risk absorbing it. She might still be new to this magic thing, but swallowing an explosive magic sandwich didn’t seem. So, instead she-
-flew into the bookcase to her right when one of the other book-beasts hit her at speed, throwing its magically-reinforced body into her ribs. She heard a crack, and cried out in pain as she hit the wooden shelf face first. A small red bar appeared in the lower left corner of her vision and shrank by a third. She had been hit hard.
The creature recovered first, skittering away over to its wounded ally. Vittea’s face burned with both pain and anger. She had lost focus, and paid for it. She was annoyed by her own mistake, but she was enraged at the book monster. It was time to experiment, aggressively. Despite the damage she took, she was still in control of the energy chunk she had ripped off of the first bookbeast. Vittea summoned more silk and molded it around the sputtering magic, wrapping it tight. She then focused her magic into the silk itself, hardening the threads into a spiked shell.
As the bookbeasts regrouped, she grasped the jagged cocoon with her powers and heaved it towards them. As it landed, she pulled a strand still connected to the cocoon, weakening the seal. There was a silent moment, and then a sharp crack split the air, the magic searing anything nearby as it escaped its prison. The three monsters didn’t have time to scream, the bizarre explosion less blasted and more…removed the space around it. The books fell to the ground, half of their bodies torn asunder by the arcane grenade. Magic leaked from their torn leather and paper, to be soaked up by the ever hungry dungeon. Vittea stood up, grabbing a broken chair leg off of the floor. This might not be over. She gripped her makeshift weapon and turned towards the monsters.
Her caution was, luckily, unneeded. The grenade had been more than she had hoped for, and her enemies lay twitching on the floor, their remaining twisted limbs scrabbling at the floor, at the scattered books, anything it could reach to gain traction. Vittea approached carefully, poking the mangled remains, but there was no reaction. The three monsters were defeated, their forms simply twitching from the wild magics that formerly held them together.
Wait. This could be useful, but she had to move fast. She knelt down next to the monsters, and paused as she felt the magic within them. Vittea could sense it naturally, now that she was aware of what she was looking for, and she felt it the most through her…forehead? She focused there, and felt two little appendages that she had discovered earlier. She was sensing magic through her antennae? She was intrigued, but she could be curious later. For now, she was working on a time limit.
Vittea lifted her hand to command the silk, which leapt to her finger with a surprising grace that made her smirk. It may just be her loneliness and imagination, but her magic seemed to know what sort of vibe she was trying to emit, and she appreciated the effort. She tried to remember the vague shape of the vessel she made for the grenade. It had been a moment of panic, but after she finished the design something inside of her mind had clicked, and she was fairly sure she could do it again.
The silk wove around itself, dancing excitedly in the frantic light of the dying monsters. The magic leaking out of their torn bodies seemed to shift towards her growing magic cocoon, even before it was finished. When the weaving was done, she was left with what looked like a large silk pill, rounded on both ends and thicker in the middle. The silk gave it a lovely shimmer, the blue magical light glittering off of the fibers. She had her container; it was time to fill it.
Like last time, she sent a thin thread of silk towards the nearest dying bookbeast, but this time instead of attaching the other end to herself she latched it onto the end of the newly created silk egg. With a gentle nudge from her own magic the wild magic began to flow, compressing and stabilizing as it was siphoned through the thread. It still had a kick to it, and she could feel it gently jostling in its new container, but it lacked the ferocious energy it had when inside the monsters. She could feel the silk compressing and calming it, her control skill apparently extending to things she made as well, which was handy. She had been worried about the wild magic exploding on her, but as she emptied one creature and moved to the next she had no issues storing it all in the glowing, pulsing magical battery she now held in her hands.
It worked! Fuck yeah! She grasped her brand new creation and wiggled with joy. The grenade had felt like a fluke to Vittea, but this was some actual progress. She still couldn’t really remember…anything before she was tossed into this world, but apparently she had kept some instincts, and they were screaming that this was the start of something she could really dig into. She could test the limits of what her silk could hold, how well it conducts magic, how resistant it is, how physically durable it is, and so on, using this magical cell as a reliable source of magic even when she wasn’t actively casting. She got up from her knees, gently holding the silk battery as she looked over the now still husks of the monsters she had slain. Vittea sighed. She hoped she could find a way to harvest magic non-lethally, but if they were going to try to kill her, she wouldn’t refuse a free magical arcane lunch.
Now that there were no threats or vanishing resources to harvest, Vittea looked around the new room she found herself in. She tried to look with her antenna as well, her sense of the magical layout of the room overlaying on top of her normal vision in her mind, and she gasped. It was beautiful to her. The shimmering substance she had quickly grown more intrigued by thrummed through not only the torches she had noticed earlier, but through the walls, and the floors, and the dark, vaulted ceiling above her.
The veins of magic showed the shape of the doors and alleys beyond her mundane sight. The room was much larger than the first, with two doors on opposite sides at the far end, opening into hallways that go off past the edge of her magic senses. She tried to focus further, but she felt her antennae start to ache, and she stopped. It was good to know her limits, at least.
With the chaos stopped for a moment, Vittea felt something tugging at the back of her mind. The more she tried to ignore it, the more firmly it pulsed, demanding her attention. She grunted, pressing her hand against her temple to help fight off the oncoming headache, and finally focused on the sensation. Immediately,the bright blue System square sprung up excitedly, ready to serve.
Notifications:
Dungeon Room Completed!
Experience Points Rewarded!
Arcane Sense Ready to Level! {+}
Leppida’s Silk Ready to Level! {+}
Silk Control Ready to Level! {+}
Antennae Control Ready to Level! {+}
Dungeon Room Now Stable!
The system screen waited for her, ever-eager. It grated on her a bit, but she couldn’t find it in her to actually be angry at a strange screen that was, somewhat, helping her adapt to this world. She could be without any guide, completely alone. She glared at it before tapping the small plus symbol next to Arcane Sense. The tab expanded, displaying two options for her to choose.
Leveling Your Skill! : Arcane Sense
+1 Ability Point
Choose one of the two options!
Option 1: Animus Sense
Your ability to sense the innate magic within living creatures increases. As the base skill increases, you will discover more details about the creatures you detect.
Option 2: Wild Sense
Your ability to sense unrefined, untamed magic increases. As the base skill increases, you will discover more details about the wild magic you detect.
She couldn’t see any way to dismiss the selection screen, so she would have to make the choice now, at least if she wanted to use the System for anything else. The Animus Sense would be very useful, in her mind. She guessed that the bookbeasts were probably on the lower end of the scale, enemy wise, and she only defeated them through luck and some quick thinking. If it was a straight fight? She still barely knew her own skills, and from what she saw she didn’t have many offensive skills. As she had demonstrated, that didn’t leave her unarmed, but it meant she needed to be careful and prepare for future fights. Her ribs still ached from being slammed by the bookbeast. She didn’t want to see a repeat, or worse, any time soon.
So, she had to get creative. The Wild Sense intrigued her. What had really saved her in that fight was that she had been able to yank the magic off of the monster and wrangle it into something useful. On top of that, just by looking around she could see how steeped in magic this place was. The gems on the torches only had to collect and condense the magic, there was so much floating around. If she wanted to survive this place, not just the next combat, she needed skills that would make the most of her environment. So, choice made, she tapped the Wild Sense option. The screen vanished, quickly replaced by a similar one.
Leveling Your Skill! : Leppida’s Silk
+1 Ability Point
Choose one of the two options!
Option 1: Stronger Silk
The durability and elasticity of your silk is improved. As the base skill increases, you will unlock different resistances you can grant your silk.
Option 2: Arcane Silk
Your silk can absorb and conduct more magic. As the base skill increases, your silk will gain more magic capacity and faster transfer speeds.
She quickly picked the Arcane Silk skill. Not only had her silk’s magical capabilities saved her life so far, but it had been very fun. She enjoyed the rush and the satisfaction of feeling the magic click into place and the spell take hold, and she wanted to know how far she could push her magic. With the last two skills to level up, she picked similar options. Silk Control gained a capacity bonus, letting her store more silk to use at any one time. She had run almost dry in her recent battle, and she knew that if she ever ran out she would be effectively helpless. Increasing her capacity just felt like the most sensible choice for staying alive in this ever-twisting library.
For Antennae Control, she was offered one skill that assisted her Arcane Sense, and one that boosted her mundane senses. She took the Arcane sense bonus, but she hoped there would be another option like that further down the road. For now, she felt the bonus she took, which allowed her to fine tune her magic senses, narrowing in on specific areas or magic frequencies, was vital to navigating the Library, but she guessed there was more out there than just this small area, or at least she hoped. And in that case, she would need to see and hear threats normally, in case she came across anything that could slip under her senses. Even so, she was satisfied with her choice. She could feel muscles in her antennae, small, delicate muscles reacting to nearby magic, the lines and details of the picture in her head much clearer.
So clear, in fact, that she felt something stir in the far end of the room, behind a fallen bookshelf. Something else was in there with her.
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Chapter Four
She was still new to her fuzzy little antennae, but she knew for sure something was there. With her upgraded sense of the ambient magic, she felt the lazy, stagnant magic at the far end of the hall from her fight swirl, like pushing a branch through water. She focused her attention on the spot, but whatever it was slipped away, into one of the many dark corners it could hide in. Dammit, now she had to stay on alert. She didn’t even know if there was a “safe” place to get to. The last room had been peaceful, but very temporary, and had come across enemies in this one as soon as she tumbled in, and she still hadn’t recovered from that. Her injured health bar floated in the bottom right of her vision, blinking worryingly at her. She needed to find help, of any kind, and the doors were past whatever was flitting about the room.
She stayed facing the disturbance as she slowly, carefully crept forwards across the rough, book-laden floor. Whatever it was, it had spotted her. It was keeping to the edges of her arcane senses, her fluffy antennae straining as hard as she could to catch a hit of something solid. All she saw was tracks and faded footsteps, proof that something had been around, but nothing pointing to the threat. The wafting blue light of the torches was only distracting her. She closed her eyes, stepping forwards with only her newest sense to guide her. It felt natural, sifting through the ambient magic around her. Her new body loved it, and she felt at home in the shifting tides of energy. Despite the danger and her fear, she couldn’t help a pleasant tingle that shivered down her spine. It felt good.
In her moment of distraction, it pounced. Vittea let out a cry as she was pushed back onto the ground, sharp talons pinning her in place. She lifted her head to see what had attacked her, and froze. Two sparkling, multicolored serpentine eyes stared down at her with a curious intensity, like a cat waiting to see how a mouse would react to being caught. The spade-shaped head slowly shifted back and forth, the creature trying to get a better look at what it caught, its deep blue tongue flicking through the air.
As Vittea’s vision cleared, she could see some more details of her captor. While their head and eyes were unmistakably snake-like, their legs and torso more closely resembled a large cat, with patches of soft fur interrupting their dark scales in twisting, dotted patterns. The blue light of the torches made it hard to make out color, but their pelt was a mishmash of dark and light textures, designed to blend into a busy background. It worked. She hadn’t noticed until she was already pinned, and now Vittea’s brain spun trying to catch up. Luckily, from the frighteningly playful glint in the creature’s eyes, they didn’t seem to want to kill her right away.
They did want to keep her where she was; the creature’s grip was iron, and Vittea could feel the long curves of their extended claws digging into the books covering the floor. The tearing of the leather echoed in her ears. Her eyes went wide as the creature’s head rear back, and feared it would strike. However, she still couldn’t look away. The colors were more than simple pigment. Her antennae twitched, and she could sense an incredible variety of magic within her captor. Magic from the library alongside shades of magics from beyond swirled within them, drawn towards their core, where the energy was condensed and sent along their nerves and muscles. This creature…ate magic, of any kind, it seemed. How marvelous, she thought.
And then they spoke, in a silvery, smooth voice, with a slight tinge of a threat. “What are you doing here, and…” The creature paused, and Vittea stared at them. Their scales were kind of pretty when they shimmered in the blue light. “Never mind,” the snake said, shaking its head in frustration. “That doesn’t matter! Why are you here? How are you here?” they barked, baring their fangs at Vittea. Vittea liked their fangs, a lot, to an embarrassing degree, and tried to focus on their eyes. They were talking, and it would be rude. Vittea found she enjoyed this creature’s voice, not to mention the relief washing over her that it was sentient, and could talk to her. So, she smiled up at the frustrated snake and shrugged. “I have no idea. Where is here? That would help.”
The creature’s eyes widened, and its head shifted on its long neck, examining her curiously. “What do you mean, ‘Where is here?’ It’s a dungeon. You don’t just stumble into these things…” Its eyes narrow. “At least normally. Did you? Did you stumble in here?” The creature seemed to flip quickly from suspicion to confusion to excitement, their nasal slits twitching in a way Vittea found oddly adorable. They tapped a sharp claw against her cheek when she didn’t answer. She coughed, clearing her throat with a slight blush. “I’m sorry. You said something about stumbling?” The creature stared at her. What? She couldn’t help getting a bit distracted with all this cool magic and surprisingly…pretty snake wolf cat things, pinning her down and asking her difficult questions. The creature only seemed more confused with her reaction, and simply tapped her again with their claw. Fine, fine, she thought.
Vittea waved her hands, as much as she could at least, trying to calm the creature. She could focus. “I mean…Honestly I have no idea. I don’t know what a dungeon is except maybe something involving iron bars and stone walls, my memory is a little foggy. And wherever I am, I have no idea how I got here, and I’ve been dealing with that for the last half-hour, at least.” Vittea’s fists clenched. She really was frustrated, and she had been holding it in with no one around who might care. And, from their expression, the snake didn’t actually care that much, and seemed quite awkward, but Vittea wasn’t stopping. “I got dumped here by that lazy asshole, and I don’t even know what I am and…” She wasn’t sure if she should be sharing these things, but she really was pissed and she needed to vent.
“And…and…FUCK. There magic and cool stuff and to be fair the body I ended up in is kinda cool but fuck fuck fuck I have no idea what’s going on! What’s going on?!” She reached up and gripped the forearms of the snake creature, who had gone wide eyed and was slowly backing away from Vittea. That’s fair, she thought. Some random stranger you just asked a question just broke down ranting. Vittea’s attempt at focus was thoroughly destroyed. She had so many questions, and only so much breath to ask them with.
She felt her chest heave as she began to pant, her lungs unable to keep up with her brain. Then she felt a comforting weight around her, and her mind began to slow, and her breathing began to even out. Vittea cracked one eye open, and saw patches of blue fur and white scales. The creature was hugging her. How sweet of them. It helped, and she could feel her heartbeat settle, though a tingling sensation remained through her arms and legs.
She reached up to pat the soft fur on the creature’s back. “I’m ok. Sorry, I’ve just been having a bit of a rough time. Thank you.” The creature jerked away, looking…almost embarrassed, to Vittea’s still watery eyes.
“Don’t…Don’t worry about it,” the creature spoke, its eyes unable to meet hers. “If you really were just dropped here, however that happened, I get it. Kinda.” The tension in their body eases, and they drop to all fours, padding on soft feet over to Vittea’s fallen gear. It snags the magic charge Vittea had just made into its mouth and looked back at her with an odd expression.
“What? I'm hungry. And...don’t be too scared, honestly. This place might be vicious, but it tends to play fair. Not to mention,” they said with a chuckle, “you’ve got about five minutes in here till things change up again.” They wagged their tail, slinking off into the dark corner opposite of her, their words lingering in the air. “Try not to die. You seem kind of fun.”
And then they were gone.
Vittea gaped, her jaw slack. The creature had been…very helpful? They had helped calm her down, and then gave some much needed advice, before effectively saying they’d ‘be around’? She giggled to herself, devolving from barely-withheld sobs to relieved laughter. She wasn’t just in some horrible book pit, it was a place with a system and goals to achieve. She wiped the tears from her eyes, letting out a fit remaining chuckles as she got back to her feet. She had been knocked down a few times in her short time here. She needed to work on that. She needed a weapon, a real weapon, and practice with her skills. She had a spell she hadn’t even touched as well as a brand new toy in her magic silk capsule.
And she didn’t have long to start. If the creature wasn’t lying, she only had minutes until she had to scramble for the exit again, only to be dropped who-knows-where in this giant book bin. Shaking the delightfully odd creature from her head, she summoned her status sheet. “Spells!” she called out, fingers crossed, and to her luck a new blue screen popped into existence over the Status screen, helpfully labeled Spells. Along with the Enhance Material (Minor) spell she unlocked earlier was another spell, beneath and to the right, categorized as a sub-type of Enhance Material, Magical Capsule (Minor). She tapped both of them.
Enhance Material: An Enchantment Spell. Infuses an item with magic, with a variety of effects that unlock as you gain familiarity with the spell.
Current Effects:
Strengthen
Flex
Infuse Spell
Snare
Magical Capsule (Minor): Custom Spell for Vittea. Using silk, form a capsule that can store magical energy. Each capsule can safely store ten thaums of magic. Spells using the magic in the capsule charge twice as fast and are half as tiring to cast. The capsule lasts for (two) days without maintenance. The duration will increase with experience.
There was a lot she could do with that description, and it explained why she found it easier to make them when she butchered the bookbeasts. The creature had stolen her full capsule, but that could be replaced. There would likely be more enemies brimming with magic ahead, not to mention the environment itself. Speaking of…
She padded over to one of the more solid walls, a tall bookcase tilted on its side, yet still mounted with upright magical torches. Vittea summoned some silk and willed it over and around the stem of the torch. She gave the silk more strength and drew it up, attempting to lift it out of its holder. There was some give, but it wasn’t doing anything but wiggle. Vittea looped the silk twice more and gave it a bit more magic, trying a bit more of a brute force push. She could feel a small pressure on the magic in her core, after a moment the torch popped free, blue gem and all.
The torch remained lit but the flame swelled in size, the blue gem drawing magic from the silk wrapped around it far more efficiently than from the air. It also didn’t draw much, and Vittea was pretty sure she could sustain it at this level for as long as she needed. She drew the silken torch into her hand, the little blue gem shining brightly, provided plenty of energy both by the silk and her direct grasp. She gave it a few test swings and nodded, satisfied. The fire didn’t go out no matter how hard she swung, and it had a nice heft to it. Even if the magical flames didn’t damage anything, the torch itself would have some impact.
Torch in one hand and a ready strand of silk in the other, Vittea again faced the dark end of the room. She took a breath, and tried to remember the tools she had at hand. She found it helped, when she was uncertain, to remember what she had on her side, and what she could do with it. She imagined traps and flares, bordering on cruel use of magic fire, and a network of threads spread across the library floors, turning the very ground to her side. She opened her eyes with an excited gleam, her antennae twitching in anticipation. “Let’s do this,” she said with a nod as she strode forth. Time to find a door.
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Chapter Five
She found a door. It didn’t take too long. She decided to take the door opposite the one the odd creature took. This ‘dungeon’ seemed to have lots of rewards to earn, and she figured whatever room the creature wandered off to, they would clear it much faster than she ever could, at least not right now. She had barely detected them before they leapt. If there were more things like that in the dungeon, she would have to play it carefully. Even the bookbeasts were able to do some damage when they caught her by surprise. Vittea wanted to take it slow, and try to scrape as much benefit as she could.
However, as slow as Vittea wanted to go, she did have to go. She let out a breath, gripped her torch, and opened the door with her free hand. There was a flash of blue, and a tingling sensation all over her body. Then, she was somewhere else. She was in a small room with chairs and couches, similar to the first room she fell into. She approached the center of the room, where the System screen greeted her excitedly.
Please Choose a Lesson!
This will affect rooms going forwards.
Lessons:
Recycling or Graverobbing: A Guide to Modern Necromancy
Plant it, Pluck it, Prepare it!: Herbology in a Nutshell
Magic in Motion: An Introduction to Animation
The cheerful screen barely had time to display the choices before Vittea smashed the third option. The other two looked interesting, but the third was directly relevant to her. She was already imagining the various critters and abominations she could make with just her silk and a little magical help. She wouldn’t have to walk blind down corridors! She wouldn’t have to work with others, and could still have a team of her own creation. Again, she was giddy. This magic stuff was really her speed.
The screen lingered, then vanished. A moment later, a ring in the floor under her lit up, and she could feel it gathering magic to herself.
“What is wrong with a single normal doorw-” And again, she was gone. Vittea really did appreciate getting to see magic so up close, but she was a little tired of getting pulled this way and that around the dungeon. It was mildly disorienting, to say the least.
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Shyera, or Shy for short, felt conflicted. She normally didn’t talk to people she encountered in the dungeon. It was really a rule or anything, but she had learned to play it safe when it came to stumbling across others down here. Sure, tensions between the Realms were much lower now, but there was still a lot of animosity for those that didn’t quite fit in. Society was generous to those who were able to stay between the lines, but that wasn’t an option for everyone. Magic took any form it wanted, after all.
It was hard to tell how people would react to her, so she simply didn’t risk it, not when any single encounter could kill her. She was a scavenger, feeding off of whatever scraps of magic the Dungeon couldn’t digest. Occasionally she might swoop in to pick off the random small monster whenever she was feeling peckish, but over all she made it to the next day by not taking risks, by playing it safe. The only time she talked to people was when she thought it would be fun to play with them, or if they had something she wanted. She never spoke up or revealed herself just to figure out what was going on. Secrets revealed themselves with time and patience.
So why? Why the fuck did she leave the safety of her cozy shadow, show her face, and she even spoke to her! What in the Realms was going through her head? Unfortunately, she knew the answer. She didn’t want to think about it, but…that moth girl’s magic. It had such a scent to it, just being near her…tasted good. She hadn’t even siphoned any off, the strange girl exuded the stuff. Shy had spotted her when she stumbled into those bookbeasts, and hung around because…well, either she won, and there would be spoils, or she lost, and there would be spoils. However, not only did the mothling defeat the bookbeasts (very sloppily, Shy would be ashamed if she was ever caught fighting like that) but she harvested their magic on her own!
She just whipped up a little pod of some material that Shy could only assume was silk, and sucked them all dry! She had practically stolen from Shy, so Shy approached her to take the magic the impertinent moth took. That’s it. That’s all. No other reason. Nothing to do with the fact that her hair glimmered so prettily in the blue light of the torches, nor with how adorably her antennae twitched when she was thinking hard.
The mothling was so clearly out of place, but it seemed that she was enjoying herself. What a bizarre little creature. Thrown into the Dungeon of all places, and the primary emotion Shy had seen so far from her was…excitement. A smirk quirked her lips before Shy smothered it. The Dungeon was no playground. It was a place of life and death, though in her opinion that balance was far from equal.It was ground to walk seriously. But, watching the little moth discover magic, something Shy could never imagine a world without…she felt something strange whenever she watched.
Her tail twitched, the soft pads of her feet pressing silently against the ground as she swiftly ducked between the threads of magic holding the rooms together and into the Dungeon ether. Coils of wild magic brushed across her scales and fur, the oils on her skin causing a thaumaphobic effect. The magic couldn’t reach her, not unless she wanted it to. The rampant energies would normally tear anyone within asunder, but numerous species developed ways to stay safe while traversing the ether.
With the aid of her tail and the magic minerals embedded in her claws, she circled back around to the room she left, where the mothling still…wasn’t? Where did she go? She had been there when she left, and Shy had expected the lost thing to stumbled around a bit before moving on…
She flowed upwards, over the muddy shapes and smells that guided her between rooms. There it was again, the sharp, almost minty scent that stained the silk the mothling had used. Shy licked her lips in anticipation. She had quickly devoured the sealed magic the moth had harvested, and it was like no magic she had ever consumed. It tickled through her, and she remembered feeling her body relax as the magic spread through her veins and muscles. She wanted more, so of course she had to hang around the mothling. If she got hurt, or even died, then her source of that delightful treat would go poof. She couldn’t allow that.
It was definitely only that reason. It wasn’t the cute way her antennae twitched, her large, shining eyes, the cute floofs in her fur…hair? It was hard to tell, but something about it made Shy want to nuzzle up. Shy didn’t ‘nuzzle up’ to anything, but here she was, her claws aching with how much her body wanted her to just get closer, to stay near her. Shy snarled to herself as she struggled to focus, shaking her head to clear the wretched magic from her nose. She knew what their magic looked like, there was no need for her to smell it to track the moth across the library. But it was suspiciously easy to track the mothling’s scent. It normally took her some time to remember and properly track a magical signature, but the poofy little…thing’s scent refused to fade.
There it was. The trail of the mothling’s magic followed through a door and into...oh, this was interesting. The mothling had encountered a Lesson, one of the main challenges of this dungeon. Shy had never participated in one, but she had watched as regular delvers flowed through them. Apparently they were very popular, as the rewards were often unique magical items. Not sell-able, but very good for personal development. So, the delvers who came here were more serious than the ones Shy normally encountered. They weren’t here for gold or loot, they were here to grow stronger. She kept away from those types, far away. Shy had survived in the wilds of the ether for so long by reducing her risks, and those walking death machines screamed stay away.
That might be part of why the mothling drew her attention, aside from her comfortingly entrancing magic. She was just so soft, compared to everything else in the Dungeon. It was a place of violence, trickery, and cunning magic, not a place that engineered ‘softness’, so the mothling was a splash of different in her day-to-day.
Shy felt some of her anxiety release. Of course, she only wanted something from mothling. Transactional was easier, simpler, and maybe she could give the poor thing some hints, maybe a little wisdom from a dungeon veteran. She chuffed, satisfied, her tail swishing in a rather smug manner. She was such a kind soul, really. And, being new to the dungeons, the mothling would likely take a while to pick her Lesson. They were all good options after- what was she doing?
The little creature had already chosen while her mind was…elsewhere. Dammit, she wasn’t normally distracted like this. With another annoyed flick of her tail she slipped back through the threads that made up the dungeon walls, dropping into the shadow of the library room. This room was rather well lit, with a large chandelier of arcane torches hung from the ceiling above, but she settled into a conveniently placed shadow next to a tilted bookcase.
The mothling was staring into the air, any delver could tell she was checking her Status. Shy rolled her eyes. In her opinion, the dungeon could sometimes be long winded. While she was distracted, Shy softly snuck up behind her. Had she made any new snacks for her to steal? She knew it was unlikely the mothling had encountered anything she could harvest any magic from, but a gal could hope.
However, as soon as Shy stepped over the magical circle the annoyingly-chipper blue of the System sprung up, making her freeze up in surprise. Dammit. She was so stupid.
Second Student Detected! Class will adjust to a team lesson!
Enjoy!
Shy didn’t have time to curse before she vanished in the bright light, along with the mothling.
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Chapter Six
“Welcome to the Library, new students.”
Vittea blinked, trying to clear the bright light from the portal from her eyes. Was that a woman’s voice? An actual person? As her vision cleared, she saw a blank faced human-sized marionette, made of an odd grey substance with glowing runes covering the surface. It was dressed in a large, comfortable looking robe and wearing a large, floppy witch’s hat. What the-
“Dammit.”
Vittea jumped again, whipping her head to her left. Oh, yeah. The snake-panther creature had snuck in at the very last second. Or, was pulled? They didn’t look very happy, if Vittea was reading their reptilian expression correctly. Oh well, they kind of seem like the cranky type. She turned her attention back to the teacher puppet, but paused when she saw the room behind them.
The previous room was large, on the order of a boardroom, but this…this was massive. A massive library! Vittea felt she could die happy here. The bookshelves and tomes that had made up the walls and floors of the rooms she had been in so far were finally extracted and put to use. Rows and rows of shelves, with numberless puppets roaming the aisles, similar to the one standing before them, shuffling books into and out of the bookcases. And this was just the first floor.
The upper floors ringed the walls, a massive hole in the center allowing one to view almost every floor from any other floor. On those floors she could see even more bookcases, as well as some display cases holding artefacts she couldn’t make out from this distance.
All of this was lit by an enormous chandelier that hung through the gap, wreathed with the azure flames that Vittea was slowly becoming accustomed to. The chandelier was made with gleaming silver, curled into delicate shapes depicting various mages and witches. In the core, suspended at the very top of the vaulted room, was an enormous blue crystal, floating within the silver that enveloped it. Magic poured from the gem, so much that Vittea could feel it on her skin.
“Ahem.”
Vittea winced. She was supposed to be paying attention, wasn’t she? The puppet was faceless, but Vittea felt a bit of smugness in their voice. She straightened her posture and tried to pay obvious attention, though she wasn’t sure if the puppet could really tell.
“Thank you,” the puppet continued. “This is Magic and Motion: An Introduction to Animation, and I am your instructor, the Great Witch Terra,” the puppet said with a grandiose flourish. “This will be a series of challenges focused on improving your familiarity with spells meant to grant motion to inanimate objects.”
The puppet raised their hands, gesturing to the bustling library behind her. “This entire library is an example of what you can accomplish. Every puppet here is animated by a spell, from simple delivery of books,” the wizard puppet swept a robed arm to her right, towards a small group of the simple puppets, holding stacks of books that any normal person would struggle to hold.
“To complex mechanisms for sorting and organizing.” Another sweep of their long sleeve revealed a large, multi-armed…thing. It looked to Vittea like someone took an octopus, placed it upside down, and then gave it a reading addiction. The arms were in constant motion, grabbing a book from the carts that the other puppets placed near it, bringing it to its mouth. Instead of consuming it, the opening in the middle emitted a soft blue light over the book, and swiftly slotted it into a much larger cart in front of it. The thing was a sorting beast.
Wait, what’s an octopus, Vittea thought. Again, she felt like she had memories and information floating around the edges of her mind, thoughts that seemed to belong to another world. She shook her head again. Hopefully, there would be time for that later. She was in class.
“The possibilities are endless. What I want you to take away from this lesson is that the power of magical animation depends on your creativity. This is also a sort of a test. I want to see where you are at, and what you need to learn.”
“So, for your first task, you are to sort…these books.” Vittea and Shy had been standing on a raised platform on the edge of the room, with the teacher near the edge, with their back to the enormous library. On cue, puppets froze in their tracks on the floor, and started to march towards the stage, depositing their books next to the pair. The pile quickly grew until it was taller than Vittea. She looked back at the teacher, and though it was a faceless puppet she swore there was a hint of amusement in its stance.
The puppet stepped forwards and pulled two books from under its robe, holding them out towards Vittea and Shy. They had a strange script on the front that Vittea couldn’t read, but she heard Shy make an odd confused noise. She reached out hesitantly, and the Witch puppet nodded to her, pushing the book into her hand. The moment she touched it, the System panel popped up, excited to help.
You have received one(1) copy of Basic Animation!
You meet the prerequisites, do you want to learn it now?
[Yes] [No]
Vittea wasn’t going to turn down free spells. She tapped yes, and suddenly she felt the knowledge of how to manipulate the magic settle into her mind. She could tell it was still incomplete, like details were missing, but she felt like she could cast the basic spell.
“You are only allowed to use that spell during the task. However, you are allowed to use the spell to manipulate any of the equipment on the library floor.”
Shy scoffed, but Vittea tried not to look at her. The witch was kind of intimidating for her, and she didn’t want to annoy the person teaching her magic. “That’s it? I thought this was supposed to be a challenge,” the magic creature said, and Vittea felt the magic next to her warp. Looking out of the side of her eye, she gasped.
Shy had shifted back onto her back feet, and Vittea saw her form elongate and shift, her legs elongating and her hips shifting upwards. Her arms stretched, her fur receded to her arms and sides, and her serpentine head morphed into a female face with sharp angles and pointed ears. Her eyes, however, were the same, her slitted pupils watching Vittea as she changed shape. Fuck, she’s pretty.
Shy, now humanoid, reached forwards and took the book that the witch puppet offered. The witch chuckled, which only annoyed Shy more. Vittea tried to silence a giggle, but from the sharp look she got from Shy she hadn’t been quiet enough.
The witch puppet chuckled, folding its hands behind its back. “You are right, that would be too simple.” It raised a hand, and small doors that lined the walls of the library shifted and lifted upwards. Small, jagged tendrils of magic started to creep out of the openings. Dozens of book monsters had been released, and they were slowly, hesitantly exploring the library. Shy scowled at the monsters, then at the witch. “Damn you.” The witch only stood there, but Vittea imagined a smile on its face.
“Of course, it would only be fitting to properly challenge such an accomplished delver.” The witch’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but she turned her attention back towards Vittea. “There is no time limit, but as you can see, they will only give you so long. Good luck.” Before Vittea could force out a question the witch was gone, vanishing in a puff of azure smoke. Vittea looked at the growing number of bookbeasts wandering into the library, then up at Shy. Shy, now slightly taller than Vittea, looked at her with an odd expression, then let out a long breath before giving Vittea a shrug. “Looks like we are doing this, I guess.” She faced Vittea and held her hand out awkwardly, her sharp claws sinking back into her fingers. “I’m Shyera.”
Vittea stifled a giggle. She could assume this was as unusual for Shyera as it was for her, but this obviously solitary creature was putting her best foot forward. Vittea could support that. With a warm smile, she took Shyera’s hand with a friendly grip. “I’m Vittea. Let’s do this shit.”
Shyera smirked.
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Chapter Seven
Vittea sat with a book open on her lap and glared at the enormous pile. It had not gotten any smaller, and she was still having…she didn’t know what she was having. There was something there, she could feel it, and when she was focusing on just one puppet at a time she could operate them without any problem! She could even make it go much faster than she thought she could, piling the books into stacks according to their section. However, if she stopped focusing, the puppet would stop immediately.
It required her full attention, and not a small amount of magic. She had already leveled her capsule making skill twice, draining the rare bookbeast that made it past Shy’s keen-eyed patrolling in order to fuel her practice. Just practice! She hadn’t even started yet. Vittea grunted unhappily and kicked a book, wincing immediately as her toe struck a weighty leather-wrapped tome.
She had been spending the last ten minutes or so doing her best to follow the rather demanding standards of her odd tutor. The Witch was nothing if not passionate about magic, and Vittea's absolute lack of education on the fundamentals frustrated her, but the Witch took it in stride. She would just have to work that much harder to mold Vittea into a workable mage.
Thus, her magic drills began. Focus, channel, focus, channel. She didn't know her mana veins could ache. After another mana cell down the hatch and a swig of water provided by the helpful puppets, she had started on her primary task; craft and cast a magical puppet of her own.
The mothling sighed and flopped back, staring at the floors above her. This wasn’t helping, but she wasn’t really sure what was helping, right then. She lifted her hand towards the puppet again, channeling the magic the way the spell book had shown her. Vittea felt the tingle of magic flowing through her body and out, draping over and threading through the puppet. A thought and a twitch of her antenna pulled the arcane strings taut, and the puppet stood straight.
It had taken a lot of visualization practice, but she had gotten down the basics at least. Sure, the spellbook gave her all the knowledge she needed to cast it, but doing it in person was another matter. She didn’t have the muscle memory developed for handling magic at all, so she was having the basics of magic along with the technique for the dungeon. The witch, or her simulation? It was hard to tell, but whatever she was she had been brusque but kind when she saw earnest interest, which Vittea had plenty of.
Vittea heard a sigh, and then a boot nudging her side not-unkindly. “Do it properly, come on.” The witch puppet standing over her, despite having no eyes, seemed to squint at her. Vittea let go of the magic and it dissipated into the air. She got to her feet, and the witch stepped behind her, correcting her stance and guiding her into a stable posture. She could feel the magic flow more quickly like this, being pulled in with every breath. “Now, don’t try to see the magic. Your eyes won’t help you here. Luckily, you already have the gear for it.” The witch puppet gently booped Vittea’s antennae. Vittea jumped back, covering her mouth to muffle the undignified “MEEP” that came out. She glared at the witch puppet, but their blank face was still as blank as ever.
Taking a deep breath, Vittea closed her eyes and focused on how to feel through her antennae. It wasn’t quite the same as sight, but she could feel the distance, intensity, and composition of magic around. And everything here was magic. Vittea wasn’t sure if the whole world was this way, but as she practiced her senses she noticed a gentle thrum of magic beneath everything. She could only see it when she really focused and all other magic was quiet. She hadn’t gotten many of those moments recently.
However, she couldn’t really get a purchase on that background magic. It shifted around her senses, like grabbing smoke. So she retracted her senses and tried to focus closer to herself. She could feel the magic in the capsule tied to her hip, in a little cute silk sling that she made after the third capsule. It had a small pouch that held up to about 3 capsules firmly against her side so they wouldn’t swing around and hit her in the face. Vittea rubbed a red spot between her antennae at the memory.
The magic in her capsules was calm but dense, wrapped up firmly by her magically enhanced silk. It was a sloppy spell, even compared to the very basic skill she had just learned. When she showed it to the Witch-puppet, they had many, many improvements to suggest, but they allowed it, since it was technically a skill used to construct an item, rather than a spell, or at least that’s what Shy argued.
So some of her time had been spent learning to weave tighter, cleaner, more efficient capsules. Both the magic control required and the silk production were tiring, but she needed to be useful.
Vittea felt a spark of guilt along with a growing sense of awe every time she watched Shy deftly stalk and dismantle the bookbeasts that wandered into the myriad shelves. It was such a pristine display of skill that Vittea couldn’t help but stare. She was sure she hadn’t been caught watching, but who knew? Shy had proved exceptionally keen. She had come up with their strategy, taking Vittea’s ignorance and lack of reliable attacks into account.
Shy had reasoned they had a magic teacher here, they should make the best of it. The Witch had agreed to tutor her, as it wouldn’t be fair to test Vittea without her having a grasp of the basics. With Shy guarding their lessons and a surprising amount of patience from the Witch-puppet, Vittea learned that ‘the basics’ meant a lot of sitting with her eyes closed. The Witch summoned different magical effects around the training space, then grilled Vittea on the details.
She had gotten the first set right, and so they transitioned to standing exercises, interrupted only by the beasts that Shy ‘accidentally’ let slip through only to be subdued with some difficulty by Vittea and used up in her practice.
The magic was still warm in the capsules on her hip. Her magical senses traveled with ease along her silk. Vittea hadn’t noticed this before the Witch’s educational needling but, now that she had some sort of reference, she noticed how absurdly easy it was to manipulate magic through her silk. And so, after failing over and over to control multiple puppets at once, Vittea had brought up the idea of coating the puppet in strands of her silk. The Witch approved, and now they stood, Vittea breathing calmly, drawing the magic out of one of her silk pills and through a strand that ran along her arm and over to the puppet.
She had used the same technique before to drain the bookbeasts dry, but she was betting it could be used both ways. When her magical senses contacted the puppet through her silk, it was a completely different experience. Before, it felt like she was grabbing the puppet and yanking it around, and automating motion like that was exhausting, not viable for sorting this mass of books in any kind of time. She could feel the puppet on the end of the strand, and she tried to expand her magic around it to control it
She quickly found herself sweating and gritting her teeth. The Witch leaned over her, that emotionless face somehow sharply analytical, and gently placed its hand on the junction of her silk and the empty puppet. “You are trying too hard to control it. Animation is the gentle way. Ease your way in and find your comfortable pattern. Now, do you feel my magic?” Vittea focused, and felt a bright pulse of magic, tugging gently at her senses. “Good,” the witch said without waiting for a response.
“Now relax, and follow me.” Vittea tried her best to let go of her irritation at herself, and took another slow breath. Then she nodded, and the Witch began. Instead of encompassing the puppet and guiding it by force, the Witch’s magic…dispersed? No, that’s not right, it was still there, but it had dissolved into the puppet. Vittea’s brow scrunched. She wasn’t sure if she could…She smacked her forehead. Fucking of course. She had been going about this so stubbornly. It was the gentle way, right? So she just had to relax, and let herself fall in.
Instead of trying to gather her energy, she let it go. Rather than vanishing like she feared, the magic was still there; it had settled into the magical lattice that ran through the puppet. Once she stopped trying to push it was so... easy? She could expand with ease, almost as quickly as her magic flowed through her silk, until she felt her magical senses filling the whole of the puppet.
The witch had stepped back, their arms crossed in a satisfied expression. Vittea didn’t even notice the guidance had gone, and she explored within the puppet with delight. Though, now what?
“Looks like you’ve got the feel for it. Now, think of it like you are casting a spell within the puppet, and your will guides the magic when you are gone. Gather up some of your magic and imprint your instructions into it.”
Vittea, again, was hesitant, but she followed the Witch’s instructions. She gathered her magic around her consciousness within the puppet, and then started detailing her commands. She wanted to connect books to where they needed to go within the spell, so she wouldn’t have to give specific orders over and over.
The magic became harder to bind the more she asked of it. If asked to carry many books at once, it wouldn’t hold out long, and some of those books would likely get misplaced. If she wanted to make sure they were fast and accurate, it would fall apart at the lightest breeze. When she tried to force it she could feel the magic fight against her and wriggle through her control. There were things it would just not do. Even literal magic had its limits, or at least hers did, right now.
She didn’t have the magic to brute force it, but she couldn’t see another way other than guiding the puppet. They were empty, so unless her will was there urging it forwards it didn’t want to move. She could feel her magic condense, she could feel her will imprinting in it, but…the moment she stopped holding it together, it vanished. What was she doing wrong?
_________________________________________________________________________
Chapter Eight
“Did you really think we’d let it go?”
Harriet sighed, turning away from writing her report. It was the end of a long and dull guard shift, inspecting the people and goods coming through the Antechamber of the Witch’s Library Dungeon. There had been nothing of note, which hadn’t stopped the jackasses she had been stationed with from causing as much trouble as they could. She had hoped, futilely apparently, that after the ruckus that got them all demoted and sent to this backwater dungeon post they would keep their heads down and try to get their positions back.
The sound of blades being drawn from scabbards rang behind her. The idiots were truly beyond saving. She had been on patrol in the Hub when she came across these morons cornering a tamer and her dungeon-native companion. The creature, an odd mix of the heavy set build of a boar with the vicious tail and claws of a scorpion, wasn’t attacking, but was standing in a warning posture in front of their tamer. What a loyal beast.
The tamer already had a black eye, and Harriet went in swinging. During the brawl the tamer slipped away, and a sergeant came across them fighting on the cobbles. They were all punished for fighting in public, and Harriet was demoted for letting a dungeon creature go. Tamed or not, they said, all dungeon creatures need to be brought to the Guard for registration or, if it is deemed too dangerous, liquidation.
And so, they were all shipped off to a no-where dungeon with little traffic to cool their heads. She had gotten a scolding from her family, which had been proud Rhoterians for generations, and was informed that if she did not keep her head down and do her duties as she was expected, then the Guard’s punishments would be the least of her worries. She had lived with pressure from her family her whole life. This wasn’t new, but they seemed particularly pissed off.
Harriet supposed she had gotten worse at fitting in with the arrogance and pride that permeated the Rhoterians as she got older. When she was young, the gleam of the buttons and the swords, the idea of standing as a bulwark against the evil of the dungeon, these had been her guiding lights. But then…
Harriet looked down at her left arm, her fingers clenched into a fist. She gently patted her forearm, and her fingers loosened. She was here to atone, so she would have to deal with this as quickly as she could.
The three morons behind her took their time drawing closer. These three in particular, the human Gellen, the dwarf Hellack, and the elf Valderin, had been gleefully cruel since nursery school, and their time with their mentors and fellows only exacerbated it.
“To be honest, I had hoped you were above such petty vengeance, but I should have known I would be disappointed,” she said with a sigh, her eyes locking on Gellen as she turned around. He stiffened, but forced an unkind smirk as he continued forwards, his grunts spreading out to either side of her. Dammit, she thought, talking wasn’t going to be an option this time. She hoped they realized that if any of them died down here, the others would be punished more than this slap on the wrist they were currently serving.
However, she wasn’t holding her breath. They knew she had more to lose with this. Everyone in the Rhoterian Guard knew her family, and her family made sure she knew just how many people were watching her every move, and just how much every little thing she did mattered. It had paralyzed her for much of her life, and she had only really been able to relax while training. Things were different, but her family didn’t know, and most certainly these small-minded twits didn’t either.
It did concern her that Gellen’s grin only grew. She didn’t like that, but she didn’t know what could make them so-
Gellen stepped forward and spoke in a low voice.
“A little bird told me you’ve been hiding your class.”
A cold shiver ran down Harriet’s spine, her lips peeling back to bare her teeth, her body instinctively lowering her antlers towards the human.
“How the fuck do you know that?” she snarled.
Gellen stepped back with an infuriating chuckle. “Other than you confirming it just now, arrogant hoofer.”
Harriet snarled again. She had to kill him, and the others. They knew, they knew the one- well, the main- secret she had been keeping tightly for the last decade. Because they were right. Her family was a proud line of Guards, but it was more than just a job.
Due to rigorous training through the ages, the Korrian firbolg family had developed their own unique Guard class, ‘Arbor Guard,’ and any family member who joined the guard, which was practically all of them, were required by family rules to take the class when it was offered. Additional classes could be obtained later if the member wanted to specialize, but taking the family class was all but a law.
One that she had broken. Sure, she had accepted being the ‘weird one’ in the family, but it was through her family’s influence that she had been able to keep her head low and not be investigated too thoroughly. The guard looked down on their members toying with anything to do with the dungeon, and the punishment was harsh. Ok, so the punishments for a lot of things in the Rhoterian guard were harsh. But they were uniquely paranoid about the dungeons.
Maybe it was a side-effect of being entrusted with keeping the realms safe from the dungeons. Other Guard districts saw the dungeon as a part of the ecosystem, or simply another place like any other, and the Rhoterians saw them as weak and corrupted. The dungeon was corruption manifest, and it was the duty of the righteous and stalwart to stand firm. There was no room for compromise; to accept any part of the dungeon was to open your soul to manipulation.
Being ‘weird’ and being ‘corrupted’ were two very different things to the Rhoterians, and she had worked very hard to stay in the first category. Finding out that she had not only taken the expected class, but then lied about it, to both her superiors and her family would put her firmly in the second. Her family would surely wish to sweep her under the rug, and would likely see her hung and her body burned.
She shifted her weight forwards, ready to launch herself at the arrogant human and rearrange him across the back wall. Her left arm locked solid, the shock on her shoulder fading the rage from her eyes. Harriet looked with tired eyes at her left arm, then sighed. They were right, as usual. Again, she was being an idiot. Obviously, they were armed, and her temper was somewhat famous in her district. They were baiting her to make a mistake, and she almost did.
She smiled softly, again thankful. They were always looking out for her, and she needed to trust them more. The three antagonists chuckled as she backed off, Gellen in particular having a nasty shine in his eye. He had been looking forward to this, she figured. Almost like...like someone gave him the opportunity? The idea sat like fire in the back of her skull. There wasn’t a small chance that someone had decided to use her exposure to take her out.
Neither she nor her family had a shortage of enemies, and this would not be the first time she was targeted like this. Her shoulder throbbed at the memory, but the firm weight of her left arm reminded her that it was different now. She took a calming breath and shifted into a balanced stance. She would let them make the first mistake. It was a good bet against the angry and arrogant.
Gellen continued to stride around like a bothered goose.
“You see, not everyone was gonna bow politely to your family. You strut around, acting like you all are better with your custom class and private districts, you got up your own asses, “ he said, mid-strut.
“And someone very smart knew we had been valiantly standing up against your unwarranted bullying, and decided to give us aid.” Gellen sighed, his hand resting on his forehead.
Gods, he was insufferable. Harriet was personally proud that she had only hit him once. He was an expert craftsman when constructing his self-delusions.
His family, the Hetilids, were as renowned as her own, with numerous members scattered through the Guard Administration and the Rhoterian upper echelons. To his minimum credit, he wasn’t wrong about her family. They had worked very hard to maneuver their way into the inner circles of the Rhoterian guard, and every single Guard family had a graveyard worth of skeletons in their closet from those efforts.
Gellen, however, was always in the right. So, his family were the heroes, thwarting the dastardly firbolgs and other Denizens who think themselves capable of commanding the original species from the Core. He and his uncle had shouted that often enough that some believed it, with a number of other Core families siding with them. Such as the two thugs flanking her at this very moment.
Sure, the Rhoterian guard was filled with arrogant bastards, but these assholes were a special strand. They didn’t just hate the dungeons, like any loyal Rhoterian should, but they saw the Realms as corrupted too. That grated against some people. The official Rhoterian position was that the Realms were, through the destruction of the vile Overlord eons ago, cleansed of the corruption of the Dungeons, and were as legitimate as the Core. But with the rise of Realm families like her own, Core families in the Rhoterian district started getting antsy.
Now there are more people than one would expect saying the same things as Gellen. That the species of the Realms were not to be trusted, and should be shepherded by the untainted species of the Core, what some extremists have, in muttered tones, called the Origin species.
It was unsettling that someone like Gellen and his ilk were receiving covert patronage. That didn’t matter that much to Harriet right now. Gellen’s goons were reaching behind their backs as Gellen himself stepped forwards.
“But that tidbit wasn’t all they shared.” He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket, holding a glowing green gem between his fingers. “I’m excited to see if this works.”
RUN.
Harriet’s spine shivered, and she winced as her left arm jolted backwards on its own. However, she nodded and looked around quickly, trying to see a way to escape. Fuck, she had ignored them for her whole shift, and had planned to do so for the rest of their punishment, so she hadn’t really processed that they had put themselves between her and the portal out of the antechamber.
It hadn’t freaked out before when she was cornered, so what in the Realms could be making it so afraid? She took a step back, shoving the boxes behind her to make space.
A titanic crack resonated throughout the Antechamber, and a burning blue wound opened in midair next to where she had just been. Heat and magic poured through the gap, and two long, twisted hands of leather and paper gripped the edges and tore it further apart. The thin, shredded tendrils clawed furiously at the edges of reality, the shredded fibers leaving deep gashes around the fissure. Deep blue fluid dripped from the wounds, staining the paper and beading on the leather.
With a wretched roar the hands went taut, hauling a dreadful creature out of the laceration. All Harriet could think as she stared with unblinking eyes was this creature was not supposed to be. Not simply that it shouldn’t be, but she could feel the magic screaming, flailing, squirming. The creature revealed itself as it tumbled into the room, and the two goons behind Gellen gasped in horror.
Raw magic poured onto the floor. The wood Harriet had just been standing on bubbled as the magical ectoplasm ate through the magical construct. They had no time to focus on that. The beast had pulled itself from the ground.
It stood twice as tall as Harriet, and long, spindly horns of hardened leather scraped against the ceiling of the antechamber. They led down to a twisted and monstrous head, book covers warped into writhing jaws that split and reformed, opening a constantly shifting array of mouths. Each mouth was filled with undulating teeth, sharpened paper hardened with blood dyed a sickened brown gnashing and grinding against each other. The monster’s whole body seemed to rebel, always in motion, trying to tear itself apart. In consolation, it would focus its anguished fury on others.
It had no eyes, its head blending into armored scales of toughened book leather over a long neck that whipped the awful mouth towards the gasps. It stood on its hind legs, reverse jointed and covered with more of the dark leather plates ending in three curved talons, each the size of Harriet’s arm.
The beast radiated something that made Harriet’s skin itch and her eyes spasm, and the urge to RUN echoed desperately in her head. Magic was pouring off of it like steam, angry and unstable magic, matched only by the raw energy seeping from the portal behind it. It was dangerous. Every inch of Harriet shouted how dangerous it was. It took a team of dedicated mages to, very carefully, open gaps in the fabric of magic to enter the dungeons on emergency rescues, but this behemoth did it with pure rage and hunger.
The wound sputtered and gasped, but it was slowly closing. The dungeon was moving quickly to heal itself. Magic was vital, and it couldn’t waste it. The behemoth raised its jagged head and inhaled. Not the air, but the ambient magic in the room shifted, streaming into the gaping maw of the warped monster.
The stakes had risen exponentially. Harriet had her back to the entrance to the dungeon. The fur on her back bristled. She hadn’t been into any dungeon by choice, and it felt like everything was happening all over again. Then a warm sensation infused her left shoulder, her left arm glowing with calming energy. Dammit, she thought, I keep worrying you. Thank you. This was no time for hesitation, and it was only her life at risk.
Gellen was screaming, hiding behind his minions who raised their weapons in a futile attempt at intimidation. The behemoth thudded towards them and, with a single swipe of its cruel talons, tore the elf Valderin in half from the shoulder to the hip. Gellen screamed louder as blood fountained from his deceased crony, and he tumbled back onto the ground, his eyes wide with shock, shaking with fear.
Harriet couldn’t afford to freeze. As the behemoth bisected the elf Harriet had already turned towards the entrance to the dungeon. She wasn’t getting past that thing, and in the dungeons she had a chance. If she stayed, she was sure to end up like the poor bastard currently oozing on the floor.
As she turned around she failed to see the knotted, jointed tail uncurl from behind the behemoth and lash out, arcing directly into her side. She gasped in pain as she felt something crunch in her chest, and the world went blurry as she was pulled violently towards the behemoth. A segment of its writhing head broke off, a tendril of its neck pulling away to bring it to face the helpless Harriet. It’s maw split open, the shards of paper and bone eager and waiting to shred and devour.
Harriet felt her left arm shift, to take the blow for her, but…she couldn’t let them. She twisted around the tail that was crushing her and struck towards the behemoth’s face. The pain was horrific as her arm hit the undulating teeth, but it had the desired effect. She had her dagger in her hand, and as her skin and muscles were demolished the hard steel of the blade rammed home. The tip sheared through stiff leather and sliced open the flesh of the behemoth’s neck, and it writhed in pain.
Its tail spasmed and Harriet broke free. However, the tail had been in the midst of tossing her into the waiting mouth, and with the beast’s anguished flailing Harriet was thrown over the behemoth entirely and into the slowly closing hole in the fabric of the Dungeon. She closed her eyes as she felt the searing burn of raw magic, and she knew it was over.
The azure light overtook her, and her vision went black.
_________________________________________________________________________
Chapter Nine
Vittea sat cross legged in front of a grey-speckled puppet, her eyes closed and her antennae twitching. Her hands sat on her knees, tangled in messy bundles of fine silk. Thousands of filaments led from Vittea to the puppet, coating its surface and connecting her senses to the crystal shards embedded inside it.
Her magic pulsed, and she could feel it run down the silk and spread through the puppet. She felt her will crystallize, the magic structure of the spell set in place. She took a slow breath and pulled away from the spell, her mind allowing the magical membrane between her and her spell to reform. She held her breath as she felt the connection drop, her inner eye staring intently at the spell.
To her dismay, a second after she let go the crystal crumbled and dissolved, the ephemeral structures she had carefully erected dissipating into the ether. Vittea sighed, her head lolling back and her eyes opening. She stared at the distant ceiling of the enormous library chamber, frustrated.
What was she doing wrong? Using the silk as a connection medium was an immense improvement. She didn’t have to spend as much time controlling her magic on the way to the puppet, and it gave her senses better control of the magic once it was inside. She had taken to the Witch’s tutoring at an astounding rate, and she had been practicing fabricating spells as rapidly as she could. Even the Witch seemed impressed from the way she had stood still and said nothing while Vittea had gone through the exercises. And she had something to say about everything!
Vittea’s smug satisfaction had drained quickly. Every time it felt like it was all about to click, it wouldn’t quite come together, and as soon as she let go it all fell apart. She had tried over, and over, tried different ways of implanting her magic, of arranging the silk strands, changing out different puppets, but to no avail. And so she sat, growing ever more agitated with her lack of not even success, but any progress, when Shyera padded softly into her make-shift practice room in her furred-snake-wolf form.
Vittea didn’t notice at first, still too focused and frustrated, as the shifter wandered over to curl up beside her, their sharp, slitted eyes carefully watching the moth’s subtle movements. Her long, furred tail wagged idly behind as she cleaned the book juices off of her claws.
Shy started as Vittea let out another grunt before opening her eyes, jumping in her seat as she noticed the company.
“How long have you been here?” Vittea asked. She still wasn’t sure how to think of Shyera. She knew more about the dungeons, fuck, more about this entire world than Vittea did, but she hadn’t been using it against her, at least as far as Vittea could tell. Despite the cursing Shy had adjusted quickly to being a part of the challenge, helping to keep the various monsters away while Vittea practiced. And besides a few light jabs Shy hadn’t seemed too upset that her unintentional partner was a complete novice, and had waved Vittea off when she tried to apologize.
She was odd, but that didn’t mean too much to Vittea. Looking at things a little objectively, she had been tossed into this world by a god and seemed to be turning into a moth lady? Vittea wasn’t sure how far that transformation would go and part of her was scared of losing herself. The other, much larger part, figured she didn’t have all much of a self to lose, and had so much to gain by embracing as much of this world as she could. And Shy was making that notably easier, helping with occasional advice, chiming in when Vittea wasn’t familiar with a part of magic or the dungeon that Shy could help with, as well as being generally helpful, which clashed with her first impression of her as a mischievous gremlin.
So no, the oddness didn’t bother her. Nor did her constant teasing. Shyera made sure to wander back into the practice area to poke fun at Vittea’s poor form, her amateur technique, or a variety of other complaints. Watching her, Vittea couldn’t deny that Shy was a natural. Even to a novice like herself Shy’s magic was instinctual. There was hardly a boundary between her internal magic and the magic she used. It was like she breathed it. It was honestly beautiful to watch. Vittea had caught herself a few times staring at Shy as her fur sparkled as the magic flowed over and through her, the sparks shining off of her scales. She hadn’t noticed, as far as Vittea could tell.
“Not telling,” Shy said in her usual playful tone. “But it looks like you need to go to the bathroom. Has all the magic got you constipated?”
Vittea responded politely by sticking her tongue out at the shifter. “Hush, you. Though, ‘constipated’ doesn’t feel far off.” Her brow furrowed in frustration. “There has to be something I’m missing. Every time I have everything ready to start, the whole construct crumbles!”
Shy arched a scaled eyebrow, her head tilted in an odd expression that Vittea couldn’t quite read. “What?” Vittea asked, crossing her arms with a huff.
Shy shifted her serpentine chin onto her paws, her sharp eyes gazing up at the mothling. “Just the word you used. Construct? What are you constructing?” Vittea blinked, confused. “The spell, of course. In order to make sure the spell does what I want it to, I need to set up the different magic structures in such a way that it will act as I predict…right?”
The shifter chortled in a way that grated at Vittea. She wasn’t sure how a snake could look that smug, but Shyera succeeded. Vittea didn’t like not knowing what was wrong, but she took a breath and let Shy speak.
“That’s the problem. Magic doesn’t work that way, little mothling,” Shy said, casually rolling onto her back, her paws curling rather adorably, in Vittea’s opinion. “It’s alive, in its own weird little way. Not quite like us, but you can’t treat it like wood or metal. You said it always fell apart just as you started to cast. Did the magic have any reason to work with you? Did you trust it with anything?”
Vittea stared. Of fucking course. She wasn’t sure where the assumption had come from, but she had equated magic to a sort of electricity, or flowing water. You could predict it, and you could set up the environment so that the water would follow your plan. But, if, for instance, magic was able to fuel torches by simply attracting it, if monsters could form and creatures that she’d never thought of before could become a friend, how the fuck do you predict that? That answer, Vittea concluded, was that you couldn’t. But you could make an agreement.
Magic had catalysts it responded to. But what did it want? What could she offer? Vittea let out a very unintentional squeak as her forehead was bapped by a fluffy shifter tail.
“You’re overthinking it, hun. There isn’t one answer that works. If I know anything at all about magic, it’s that everything involved is incredibly personal. Even if I told you how I do it, it wouldn’t answer the questions you have. But…” Shy got to her feet, stretching in a long, slow arch. “The best advice I can give is to trust. Stop worrying your cute head so much and just fall into it.” Shy chuckled as Vittea’s cheek warmed and started to pad away. “Anyways, I need to check the halls again. You’ve got this, mothling.”
And with that she was gone, and Vittea was left with the agitated clan of moths currently in her stomach. WHAT WAS THAT?! Shy had been thoughtful, and snarky, and…and helpful? Why did she wish the shifter had curled up in her lap instead of just next to her, and why did she have such a strong impulse to borrow Shyera as a makeshift pillow?
She had called her hun, and cute. That’s all it was. Vittea was simply starved for affection and interaction after getting stranded in this bizarre place, and she was simply latching to the first available source. That must be why Shy’s eyes made a delightful shiver run down from her antennae. But the thoughtful, earnest input, trying to give the best advice she could to help Vittea when she was stuck…it touched her. She hadn’t known Shy for very long, but she was quickly growing on her.
But forget about that! She had to push cute snake ladies out of her mind, and focus on solutions. And oh did she have a solution, or at least she thought she did. She had been going about it all wrong. She didn’t need a plan. She needed to have a conversation.
Vittea settled herself with a long, slow breath, allowing her body to relax. She felt the magic flow through her mind again, but instead of taking hold and shaping it, she started simple. As clearly as she could, she pictured the puppet in her mind, layering her thoughts with questioning and aid. She had a goal, and wanted help. And, to her amazement, the magic pulsed back. She felt the magic around her body swirl and compress inside her, mirroring the process she had attempted herself with an ease and efficiency that startled her.
She fed a little of the magic from the silk cell tied to her hip, and again she felt a response. It wasn’t conscious thought, or even really an answer to her plea, but more akin to holding a branch before a flame. The magic wanted purpose as much as fire wanted fuel, and she could provide that. The magic stored in the cell was the spark, providing a catalyst for the spell and infusing it with her intent. Her instincts told her to clamp down on the spell and force it into the shape she wanted, but she resisted. She relaxed the pressure on the spell and let it go.
Despite her worries, the spell took off the moment it could wriggle free of her control. VIttea could feel the magic run up the silk and into the puppet, and she watched in stunned amazement as it rendered structures she had exhausted herself creating in moments. It didn’t need to be forced at all. It filled the puppet, its limbs twitching as the spell familiarized itself with its new focus.
As the puppet moved the silk connecting it to Vittea fell softly to the floor, but tendrils still clung to its surface, giving it an odd fuzziness. She could still feel a connection to the silk, tendrils of magic remaining after the threads fell away. After the bright hum of magic calmed, the puppet stood eagerly awaiting Vittea’s commands. With a gentle push of magic, the guided the puppet over to the pile of books and, instead of carefully directing it towards every book, she sent the more general image of the puppet gathering the books and sorting them into the shelves.
However, the puppet surprised her. Instead of bending over to pick the books up, it stood with its silk-draped arms apart, and Vittea could feel a pulse from the spell. Magic funneled into the puppet’s silk and it came alive, hundreds of thousands of energetic threads leaping towards the books scattered all over the floor. The silk swiftly wove itself around the leather tomes and lifted them back towards the puppet. The books were brought to a thick bundle of silk that had formed on its back where more tendrils reached out and pulled them into the growing pack, the bundle hanging weightlessly from the shoulders of the increasingly fuzzy puppet.
Vittea gawked at her creation. All she had done was give the spell an impression of her skills and her objective, and it had created a silken book-sorting monster with an oddly eager disposition. In fact, the puppet stood in front of Vittea, its backpack heaving with all the books in a ten-foot radius around it, awaiting further orders.
Vittea was gobsmacked. Simply by taking a step back and rethinking how she interacted with her magic, it all clicked, and overperformed her wildest fantasies. The creation before her felt sloppy, and she could feel the unstable fluctuations within the hum of the excited spell. Her worries and stress faded, and she started to giggle. It worked. She could improve, and she could study, and practice, but it worked!
The puppet cocked its silk-strewn head as its creator flopped onto her back, letting out relieved sighs and giggles. The stubborn failure she had been butting her head against had dug into anxieties she didn’t know she had. She had been delighted upon discovering she was in a world steeped in magic, but at her first major challenge she thought maybe she wasn’t made for this place. In her anxious mind, adapting magic was an important part of fitting in, of proving to herself that despite the confusing, dreamlike experience so far, it was real, and she wanted to be here.
But she didn’t need to prove herself to anyone. As soon as she approached magic as a force to work with, rather than craft, it accepted her and seemed to delight in it, as much as a phenomenon could. The giggling subsided, replaced with a sense of enthusiastic determination. She could do this, couldn’t she? She could dive in, learn everything she could, and maybe not die on the way.
As Vittea found her new drive, her reverie was interrupted quite rudely. Another loud CRACK rang out, and a heavy, horned, furred figure flew through the air at blurring speed, colliding with her fresh-made puppet. Despite her shock, a ferocious roar made her snap her attention to the entrance to her training space.
Long, wretched limbs made of the telltale mesh of shredded leather and paper stained dark with various fluids emerged from the gap, leading to a small, stocky torso adorned with a myriad of jutting tusks of stiffened leather. The long-limbed bookboar roared again, baring dripping teeth as it charged.
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Chapter Ten
Hours earlier, in an abandoned barn in the Frozen Realm
In The First, The Ether Was Endless And Pure. A Wrinkle Was Formed, And With It Came Life.
The door of the ramshackle barn creaked open, and multiple hooded figures shuffled inside out of the dreary rain, surrounding a figure in the center holding an ornate wooden box engraved with silver filigree and a dark metal lock holding the lid closed.
As the last of them filed in, the figures pulled down their hoods. There were roughly ten men of various species, all wearing fine silver masks with blue gems embedded in the forehead. The masks only covered the eyes and nose, and bore the image of eyes gently closed in prayer.
With a nod from the figure in the center, whose elegant robes were notably more expensive and luxurious than the others, the figures spread out in a circle around the room, with the box-bearer following the leader to the center. The leader pulled a small gem from their robes, nodding with a slight smirk as he a light beating quickly in the center of the gem.
“This is the place. Begin,” he ordered with a wave of his hand. The other nodded and knelt down on the bare dirt floor, carving runes into the ground with knives pulled from their boots. The man in the center stood in front of the leader, holding the box in front of him. The leader pulled a key from the depths of his robes, a tarnished silver key to match the tarnished silver lock. He inserted the key and removed the lock, lifting the lid of the box with a gloved hand.
Inside, set on a pillow of red satin, was a knife. A dagger, made from the enormous razor sharp fang of an unknown creature. The blade was a deep red tone, speckled with orange and black, the handle a smooth black leather wrap. The leader lifted it with reverence, though his slightly trembling hands spoke of fear that he could not restrain. He held the blade aloft, gazing at the scores and chips highlighted by the intermittent lightning.
After a moment, he lowered the blade, handing it to an acolyte beside him who took the blade with trembling, outstretched hands. His attention then turned to the acolyte in the center.
In The Second, Life Reached Back To The Ether. A Bond Was Formed, And With It Came Magic.
As the man holding the box turned to leave, the leader gave a nod to the others, and three acolytes stepped swiftly forwards, clasping their fellow in the iron grips. He dropped the box, the clatter echoing through the room, only to be drowned out by the thunder of the whirling storm outside. The leader reached down and pulled the silver mask from his face.
The priest, a sad smile on his lips, gazed down at the captive acolyte, reached into his flowing robes and ceremoniously revealed another mask. This one was similar to the others, the eyes closed in gentle prayer, though this depicted a whole cherubic face, serene and penitent, its mouth sewn shut with gleaming golden thread, and a slim rectangular hole in the middle of the forehead.
The acolyte stared at the mask, eyes wide and bloodshot as he struggled in the grip of his former comrades. His captors held firm, their expressions under their masks unreadable.
“Why!?” the acolyte choked out, his eyes wide with fear and betrayal. He knew what was coming. The priest ignored his cries, taking his chin gently in his hand and, with a mournful bow of his head, lowered the mask onto his follower.
In The Third, Magic Was Found By The Greedy And Vain. A Wound Was Formed, And With It Came Death.
The screaming started quickly. The acolyte flailed and writhed to no avail as the others held firm. The priest pressed down, pushing the mask fully onto his victim. Blood and tears ran down the edges of the mask, the acolyte’s body trembling as the sensations of pain and the searing grip of magic fused the mask to their face. The priest let go, reaching over to take the knife from the waiting acolyte, and began to chant, the words searing against the air as they emerged.
“With flesh and magic, of blood and ether, we bid the beast awaken.” The dagger flashed a sanguine red, starting to vibrate in the priest’s hand. With a regal grace, he brought the knife down, slashing a wicked wound across the kneeling sacrifice’s shoulder. The acolyte cried out briefly before their voice devolved into pained babbling.
Blood did not spill from the wound. Instead, a bizarre blue substance was pulled from the gully of flesh, catching on the crimson blade. The blade drank hungrily, the blue fluid vanishing into the metal as soon as it came into contact. The fang’s hum grew louder, and the priest’s grip tightened, fighting to control the artefact.
In The Fourth, From The Mire Of Death A Pattern Emerged. A Link Was Formed, And With It Came Time.
“We feed the chasm, break the chain, so the bound may return again.” The priest’s hand came down once more, the blade cutting open the acolyte’s stomach. Blood flowed freely from the wound, though it as well as greedily devoured by the blade, not allowing a drop to hit the dirt floor.
The buzzing grew so loud even the thunder could not drown it out. The artefact was awakening. The priest steadied himself. He would not fail, not when they were so close, not in the face of dungeon filth. Raising his eyes and hand to the ceiling, the knife still drawing slick strings of purplish mix of magic and blood out of the acolyte, the priest continued.
“Against the realm from which it came, wield the power, cut the fate.” The priest’s hand came down once more, tip of the dagger diving straight down into the slot on the wretched sacrifice’s mask.
The acolyte’s body went rigid. Blood and magical fluid poured from the edges of his mask, covering his body and soaking his clothes. The other acolytes let go and darted away from their unfortunate colleague, their clothes smoking where drops fell upon them.
When the sacrifice was fully covered in the liquid, he started to shrink. The fluid was absorbing him, and flowing up into the mask, then into the gluttonous dagger, drinking deeper with every pulse of the purple mass the acolyte was dissolving into.
The priest sneered at the disgusting sight, taking a step back to avoid the growing puddle of goop. He let go of the dagger, holding both hands aloft in a magisterial posture. The beast had awakened; it was time to enact the rest of their plan.
In The Final, The Living Seeking Time Broke A Seal. A Die Was Cast, and With It Came Despair.
Red tendrils of magic and animosity extended from the priest’s outstretched hands and towards the feasting dagger as he resumed his chant. “Take the beast, bind it well. To our will it shall bend, our enemies to fell.” The magic chains snapped into place around the blade, the buzzing growing into a furious metallic screech. It started to shake and sputter, purple fluid spraying from the gap in the mask.
A glob flew through the air onto the jaw of a silent acolyte standing on the edge of the ritual. He did not have time to scream. The fluid ate through his skin and soul like a seething acid, his body disintegrating into a pile of silver and robes. The priest paid him no mind, the acolytes next to him simply stepping away, focusing their energies on aiding their leader.
The sounds in the barn grew to a cacophony, though the priest stood firm, and with a final push he clasped his hands shut and a crack cut through the noise. The red strings bound the knife tight, its anger and rage futile within its new prison. The priest reached out with a trembling, tired hand, and lifted the dagger free from the mask, the last of the magic imbued drops falling to the soil.
With a final swing, the priest drew the knife through the air, rending a gasping hole in the fabric of the Realm. He stood back from the sting of raw magic, holding his free hand up to the gap. He felt the energies of the dungeon seeping through, close to the surface and easier to access.
Pulling his arm back, he thrust his arm into the wound floating in the air, gritting his teeth at the intense pain crushing his limb. He felt the knife strike something inside the ether, and his grimace tightened to a cruel grin. He pushed once more, embedding the knife in its target before letting go and stepping quickly away from the wound.
Smoke rose from his hand, scorched a deep blue with throbbing bright cracks spreading over his skin. His acolytes rushed to him with bandages and ointment, and he allowed them to tend to him as he took in the sight. The mask and robes from the sacrifice lay piled beneath the wound, dried of any of the purple. The wound itself had taken on an angry, infected tone, and if he squinted he could see the ripple of the thrashing blade, bound and mad, lodged in the belly of the Dungeon.
He swept his uninjured hand over the scene and barked to the acolytes still standing around. “Clean this mess up, then we are back to camp. Move quietly, and kill any who see you. Our work is vital.” As the acolytes swiftly began gathering the remnants of their deceased fellows and dumping it into the magical scar, the priest turned and exited the barn, off to nurse his wounds.
Some sacrifices were necessary for the true path, after all.
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I really appreciate that you kept this up, it's nice to have it saved. Looking forward to the rewrite!
Maybe add a note at the top?