“Wait!” 

 

Kasha glanced at me with a surprised expression on her feline face, confused why I called a split second before the rift swallowed us. Nevertheless, she stopped, and the tear of the shrivelling space disappeared into nothingness. 

 

Sometimes, I had to wonder what made my ‘Displacers’ so impulsive, prone to rash decisions, always eager for action, to blink in and out of existence through their portals, and then roam for hours or days, but today, I was to blame. 

 

“For Master?” The cat-girl meowed cutely, assuring me she wouldn’t abandon me to travel the world again. 

 

“Don’t worry.” I said, “Perhaps we shouldn’t talk to the guy.” 

 

I wanted to interrogate the human, the leader, behind this invasion, this raid. It intrigued me, true, but I realised that there was very little to gain from the conversation which couldn’t be ripped from the brain of the zombified human through the use, and abuse, of ‘Fleshspeaker’ powers.

 

“We don’t necessarily need to ask him questions…” I mused. 

 

Perhaps, instead of coming to the man with the questions of why and where, I should arrive with the terms and conditions on which I would allow him leave to deliver the message to others, otherwise this never-ending cycle of violence wouldn’t end until we, or the humans, were extinct. 

 

“Master?” Narita asked, softly, slipping close to me as Tama was still nowhere to be seen. 

 

My rat-girl, too, struggled with another rather impulsive ‘Displacer’ which, just like Kasha, refused to let go, and clung to her instead, daring me with the soft meow.

 

“Are Angela or Rye, or any of the Overseers, around? Who is sorting out the zombified humans?” I asked. My gaze shot to the flock of bat-girls in the distance. 

 

Their number had grown thinner, it seemed, their interest in the fleet waning as most of the humans it carried were now either dead, unconscious, or carried away by the ‘Tidereaver’ for questioning. The examination, however, might never come, considering how little we needed from them.

 

As much as I wanted to prevent further senseless killing, I didn’t have any use for the prisoners unless I could exchange them for something of value - goods, favours, or arrangements. 

 

Maybe I could leverage their skills, considering how poorly we performed in sailing. 

 

Perhaps I should force them to repair the wrecked ships and bring our force across the sea to … 

 

… to where, exactly? 

 

I considered my options. 

 

Narita, in the meantime, spaced out, her gaze fixated on the horizon while she softly ground her teeth in the usual, cute rat-manner. It frustrated the ‘Displacers’, but Kasha and two others still lingered around, ready for when we would finally leave.

 

“Narita?” I asked, quietly, wondering whether having a ‘Fleshspeaker’ always present would shorten the apparent lag in communication. 

 

“Yes-yes, Master. Angela…” she said abruptly, gesturing somewhere further in-land. “Angela is sorting the drones. Arke is distracted right now with the work for the Lady. Too many ideas.”

 

I could sympathise - the thought process of the ‘Fleshspeakers’ was peculiar, filled with an endless stream of ideas of how to twist nature itself, though fortunately for me, I sensed them only when one of the bats was nearby. Narita wasn’t so lucky, I supposed, forced to comb through the whispering host. 

 

“Drones are kept away from other captives?” 

 

I preferred the term ‘zombified’, but ‘drone’ fit, too. It was what the ‘system’ called them.  In a way, it fit, considering they were completely enthralled by the ‘Fleshspeakers’ will and design. 

 

“Yes-yes. We are already transporting them.” She nodded energetically, “She is working on a way to fight without us entering the barrier, Master!” 

 

“I see.” I nodded, with a brief glance over my shoulder, thinking aloud: "First, though. We should try to get a ship to that town to the south. It has proper docks, they should be untouched. Navigating there will be difficult, but it’s better than throwing them into the fields.” 

 

I, too, looked in the direction of the sea, considering our options on preserving the ships. 

 

There weren't many alternatives. The ‘pirate' ships were, so far, the only sea-worthy ones we had encountered, and there wasn’t anything I could call a naval base aside from that single, now nearly destroyed town down the coast.

 

We couldn’t go out and look for more, not after I technically offered a truce.  

 

“The ships are probably a test for Nereida, though.” I pondered, “We suck at sailing…” 

 

“Yes-yes, Master.” Narita replied with acknowledgement. 

 

It was her turn to run things now. In fact, I preferred that, as I wanted to move the responsibilities away from the ‘Alphas’ of the most numerous breeds. 

 

The ‘Purifiers’ and ‘Eviscerators’ had it rough, their numbers counted in thousands. 

 

Miwah even forgot to let go of her disguise, maintaining the illusion of a human female instead of the more charming, werewolf-like form I preferred. She seemed distracted, though it may be the fact that I was completely unused to her even having the ability. 

 

Ekaterina, however, looked bored. If only I could transfer responsibilities, but that was for later. 

 

“Captives should be stripped of equipment and marched south too. I don’t want them close to the village, except for the leader..” 

 

I gestured towards the settlement where the natives had fulfilled their thirst for justice - or revenge - by lynching the unfortunate pirate. Even the Viceroy wanted the raiders executed. 

 

“...and Narita?” 

 

“Master?” 

 

“Have someone explain to them that if they don’t behave, their remaining options are execution by locals, or zombification by Fleshspeakers.” 

 

I didn’t like this part - it was never my intent or desire to fight this war - but the humans were impossibly belligerent. 

 

“Yes-yes, Master.” 

 

“If any ship looks like it won't float, the Warpstalker should bring it to land…” I continued, “...ought to fish up all that flotsam too, and save whatever cargo and equipment they had.” 

 

Equipping the few thousand of my girls was a problem. Better to not let any material waste, not to mention some of those ships could still be fixed, something the captives would help with. If there was a carpenter on board to repair the damages after the storms and so on, we would certainly employ them. 

 

“Miwah, tell your sisters to set aside a few of the breastplates with unique insignia. One per symbol, just like a proof, you should show them to the Viceroy to identify.” I paused, “We could show him the bodies, too…” 

 

While it wasn’t strictly necessary to prove that the attack had happened, and that we dealt with the invaders, any information the Viceroy could give us would be valuable. We didn’t fully understand the conflict between the human factions, or even know who was who.

 

I reasoned that the Viceroy, being the highest local authority, would be informed by his guards that the attack had transpired. Perhaps they would show him the captives, or the bodies, which was something we didn’t do. 

 

Of course, he could just have some commander identifying the bodies and merely sending reports, but there weren’t any human commanders anymore. 

 

“Wait.” 

 

I signalled Miwah to stop, since there was a ‘Displacer’ to take her away. 

 

The small felines were an impatient bunch‌. 

 

“Is he in the palace?” 

 

“No, Master.” Miwah said, her distracting illusion of the human still holding: “It takes a long time to travel the city on foot with his guard…” 

 

“Fine. Just put a few bodies aside in the courtyard, ones which appear the highest rank judging from equipment, then dispose of them once someone identifies them. Reason that there was no official appointment for this, so we defer to him…” I decided, “If he can tell their affiliation by look, we would know for sure it was this ….” 

 

“...Tokomura…” Miwah helpfully finished the sentence. Remembering names wasn’t my forte, not after naming the hundreds of the monster girls my power brought to this world, and the human names were usually hard to pronounce.

 

“...Tokomura’s people attacked us. They are supposed to be different nations, aren’t they?” 

 

“Yes, Master.” Miwah confirmed.

 

“Excellent. I want you to take care of this.” I said, “You are the best girl for the job.” 

 

Though I preferred her normal form, she was the only one from my retinue that came with a disguise. I would delegate more back-and-forth to her, after all, even if there was a ‘brain-bug’ sitting somewhere in the middle. 

 

Miwah didn’t seem to mind, though I could sense her unexpressed desire to stay close to me. It was mutual, but I had slept on her special abilities for far too long. 

 

“Yes, Master.” she said, and the eager teleporting feline pulled her through the rift.

 

“Hold on, my dear.” I whispered.

 

However, now, I had to turn back to the original plan. Day was not over just yet. 

 

“Tokomura…” I murmured to myself. 

 

Though the name sounded familiar, something one would find back on Earth, there was no reason to assume that this world’s nations and the nations of East Asia would be equivalent, geographically or otherwise. After all, this was a different world where magic worked, and the dragons were real. 

 

“I wonder what the Lady thinks about this…” 

 

Though the dragoness was, very likely, an ultimate authority in terms of knowledge and lore about the world, I very much doubted she was interested in the affairs of the mortals considering her ‘brothers’ - other dragons - hadn’t intervened in the war before we arrived. 

 

I found out most things independently of her, if I recall correctly. 

 

“For Master!” Kasha reminded me of her presence, pulling my arm.

 

“I know you could tell her…” 

 

“For … Master!” 

 

I paused - it was one of those moments where telepathic communication could pass the concepts of hundreds of words while the little kitty changed the tone of her cute, girlish voice, but I still didn’t understand. 

 

“What do you mean by…” I frowned, “From south or from the west?” 

 

“For Master…” 

 

I could sense her mind touching mine, trying to explain the particular disdain the ‘Lady’ supposedly had for the ‘rejects’ to the west, if I understood it properly, but that  sentence raised more questions than it provided answers. 

 

“Nevermind. Take me to Angela first, then.” 

 

“For Master!” 

 

Kasha meowed cheerfully in agreement, and soon we both fell through the ever-shifting void beyond, alien and incomprehensible, a place where distance was meaningless and physics dethroned. 

 

For those precious moments, I wondered how the ‘Displacers’ did it, navigating through the impossible with such ease, their brains somehow adjusting for the planet rotating on  its axis, then revolving around the sun at a hundred thousand kilometres per hour…

 

The mere thought of it left me dizzy and disoriented when, a few seconds later, we re-emerged in normal space.

 

I was getting used to this, yet… 

 

…I shook my head - next time, better not think how ‘Displacer’ portals worked. 

 

They were not that bad when I didn’t try to visualise what they did. 

 

Kasha was kind and devoted, trying to support me should I lose my balance, but she did not deserve to be burdened by this, especially considering how frail and petite her feline body was.

 

I looked around. 

 

Gone was the seaside scenery, with the vast ocean at one side and the coastal fields at the other, replaced by a place far inland, in a valley surrounded by mountains. 

 

It seemed familiar, yet somehow very different.

 

We stood on the hill, the verdant madness of the ‘Corruptor’ made grove on one side and the scene of the excessive deforestation effort on the other. 

 

The palisade separated us from the usual huts and houses that were the trademark of the native human occupation, now slowly swallowed by the over-present creeper plants, but it was not where the influence of my scaly companions ended.

 

Behind it, even more otherworldly greenery reigned supreme with its unusually vibrant palette of colours, interrupted by scenes of large-scale logging providing for the construction of the second ring of the wooden walls. 

 

There was a lot of activity, a lot of movement, yet very few humans were visible, if any. 

 

The ‘Purifiers’ were around by hundreds,  resting, working and milling around, performing odd jobs ranging from cooking, pilling branches and rocks, or digging into the hillside, assisted by the ‘Eviscerators’ and ‘Defilers’, spread both within the outer and inner section of wall, each occupied with their own tasks. 

 

A few abominations skittered about, a few ‘roach-hounds’ sniffing the desolation, along with the helpless flesh puppets, even a mutated crab trying to pull a log while a ‘Fleshspeaker’ sat on its shell. 

 

My chiropteran monster girls weren’t the most populous here. A few lingered, but many perches were raised, so the ‘Fleshspeakers’ and ‘Overseers’ could look down on their domain. 

 

It was their origin point, a birthplace of sorts, I realised. 

 

 ‘Southern Maiville’ was a lame name borne of temporary measures, but it was the place, the town. The shrine Tama torched was gone, annihilated, but this was the place where ‘Fleshspeakers’ first entered the world and my girls didn’t take half measures to defend it. 

 

The air shifted with new arrivals, a new portal ripping space, but I was already noticed by the girls. They were turning this into one of their major camps, and it meant a lot of my foxies were around. 

 

“For Master! Master! Master!”

 

The ‘Purifiers’ giggled with their girly voices, happy to see me. A few rushed to greet us as the rest of my retinue arrived, with Narita and Ekaterina, and, surprisingly, Tama, too. 

 

They would swarm me soon, to welcome me, but now wasn’t the time for walking around the town, seeing how the preparation for the permanent occupation proceeded. I was here for  information. 

 

However, we got the attention of the ‘Overseer’ - the ‘system’, despite its rather unreliable nature, wasn’t entirely off its mark calling the ‘evolved’ bat-girls such. 

 

Angela looked down imperiously on the zombified humans shambling around from her perch atop the gigantic mutated crab, her mind wandering off to some grand plan she had for the new shipment of the fleshy puppets we fortunately provided to her through the pirate attack, but soon, her serious expression disappeared. 

 

“For Master!” She cried affectionately, reminding me that Angela - despite being an ‘Overseer’ now - did count as the more rank-and-file among the other monster girls, and was limited to communication through telepathic connection to the host rather than normal speech. 

 

She jumped down from her elevated position, nearly knocking me over,  me in her wide, leathery arm-wings, nearly sweeping over the few overly interested ‘Purifiers’ nearby. 

 

Kasha, and two ‘Purifiers’, were also caught in the embrace, covered by the wing’s membranes, but didn’t think of it as anything more than being engulfed by rather coriaceous blankets. In truth, they probably approved. Not only did the individual breeds not mind each other at all, they got to hang intimately close to me as well. 

 

Tama snickered somewhere behind me, as I didn’t get to welcome my vixen back. 

 

Instead, it was the bat-girl that demanded my attention. 

 

“For … Master…” Angela squeaked. I could sense her excitement, her pride, affection even, and all, but I didn’t quite comprehend the meaning. The mind of a ‘Fleshspeaker’ was always filled with  alien concepts revolving around the obsession to bind life to their whims and  wishes. 

 

“You made something? For me?” I tried, and she immediately confirmed with a lively “For Master!” 

 

At least this bit I understood. Why it was better than pigeons, I would rather not  know. 

 

Birds were a rare sight lately. 

 

“Very well, show me!” I decided, and the chiropteran monster girl released her hug, gesturing with her enormous wing. This time, none of the ‘Purifiers’ were swept away. 

 

I caressed Angela’s face a little, then just behind her perked up ears. I couldn’t help myself caring. Kasha and a few of the foxies also wanted attention, but the performance the bat-girl prepared distracted me from socialising further. 

 

The mindless, zombified humans propped up a lifeless body - either unconscious, or a corpse pulled from the water - still dressed in what I assumed was the distinctive uniform of the other human faction - cloth pants and tunic, the breastplate and the metallic conical hat. 

 

Unique symbols on each armour were noted. That was something I came here to investigate, but the actions of my girls - and by extension, of their mindless puppets - puzzled me even further. 

 

“What are you trying to do?” I asked, confused, as the thralls dragged the body further away, and soon, all the girls scattered, clearing the area, leaving only the ‘drones’ behind. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

I understood only when the ‘Devourer’ - the larger, and more mature looking, variant of the ‘Defiler’ - stepped out. She waved at me, too, though at this point, the whispers at the back of my head were bubbling with attention.. 

 

The rat-girl, completely kitted in that organic outfit the ‘Fleshspeakers’ shaped from living tissue, came forth, carrying what I could only describe as a veiny, living cannon made from flesh and bone. It pulsed, almost as if it had a heartbeat of its own, squirming like it was about to spit, yet helpless to escape the firm chitinous protrusions that served as the carrying handles.

 

Did they try to set up a range? 

 

“Is this … supposed to shoot?” 

 

The ‘Devourer’ aimed the thing from the hip and then … 

 

There wasn’t a boom, per se, not in the way I understood firearms, but a loud, angry buzz, like thousands of furiously violent hornets, and the body  propped as the target exploded in a disgusting fountain of flesh and gore, ripped apart by … something. 

 

The stench of blood hit the air, putrid and disgusting, from the impact it had on the target, but there wasn’t even a trace of smoke. The girls cheered. 

 

“You made an organic gun?” I asked, half puzzled, half repulsed, even after the constant hostility of this world somehow dulled my sensitivity to something like this.  

 

“For Master!” Angela positively beamed through - her brilliant invention, working as she intended. My mind flooded with concepts even more bewildering than the previous one as she vigorously, and somewhat desperately, tried to convince me of the benefits of the design she had shaped, as opposed to others her sisters had supposedly worked on. 

 

“What do you mean, it’s better than a spike thrower? You made a spike thrower? What do you mean, homing?” I tried, helplessly. 

 

Though I could understand her, truly comprehending was another matter. The inner workings of a creature twisted by magic so it became a living weapon were far beyond me, it superseded or even straight away ignored everything I knew about biology and the ‘Fleshspeakers’... 

 

Saying that ‘Fleshspeakers’ didn’t believe in evolution was an understatement. 

 

“For Master!”

 

The rat-girl prepared for another shot. Reloading the organic weapon took a sickly glowing globe, slimy as an insect egg, and a gust of the ‘Defiler’ energy-transfusion of power.

 

This time, the rat-girl aimed up, firing into the air. 

 

Another loud humming sound, and another body - this time one of the human puppets, prevented from reacting by the ‘Fleshspeaker’s’ power - was ripped apart. It made me sick. 

 

“For Master…” Angela sighed, disappointment palpable in her tone, yet without a sliver of regret for anything other than wasting resources. After all, her power could not affect the dead flesh, only the living, and now, with one of her zombified marionettes of meat gone, there was less material to work with. 

 

I didn’t know what to say. 

 

However, before I could voice a protest, or anything else, a random ‘Defiler’ dug something from the bodies and ran to show it to me. 

 

With a cough, I struggled to not throw up from the stench. Angela and Kasha, still herding close as if nothing had happened, would not appreciate that.

 

In the palm of the clawed hand, coated in the blood and gore, was a grossly deformed insect, its body squashed by the impact,  yet still distinguishable by the cracked body, thorax and wings, bristling in the broken, sharp spikes. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

“You made a weapon that fires bugs?” I asked, uncertain what she meant. Obviously, no amount of telepathy could prepare the normal mind for the way ‘Fleshspeakers’ saw the world around them - and ‘Overseers’? The ‘Overseers’ were all of this, on overdrive. 

 

“For Master!” Angela perked up. It was less of a disappointment now. 

 

More thoughts, more concepts, defying the previous in the madness of it. An organism spitting the enraged hornets was only the beginning, as the host whispering at the back of my head assured me. 

 

“... as retaliation against flying swords?” 

 

The incident with the undeniably magical flying sword had nearly slipped my memory already, even though it had been just a couple of days, but the ‘Fleshspeakers’ did not forget, and they did not forgive. 

 

They made their own. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

She insisted, and I shook my head. 

 

Originally, I came here to ask her for the information she could dig from the minds of the now enthralled, zombified sailors, and this was not what I expected to find. I tried to reach for her mind, but now it was set on new ways to protect me, complete with armour powered by the power of the ‘Elite’ - or ‘Adept’,’ as humans called them. 

 

“We should make one, Master.” Narita stepped into the conversation. “We need new ways to make you safe!” 

 

“I…” I began, words didn’t come up. It was … 

 

“For Master?” Angela pipped. She  tried to wrap me in her wings once more. 

 

For everything that had transpired, for all the condensed insanity of the anthropomorphic bats fixated on bringing nature to its metaphorical knees, I still couldn’t bring myself to dislike her. They did it all to protect me. 

 

Not to mention, the ‘Fleshspeakers’, for all their horrific focused powers, had a very nice scent. 

 

I could sense their care, their concern, now, which made it even worse. 

 

Even Kasha, and the ‘Purifier’ caught in the hug, pushed closer. 

 

“No, no,” I said softly, “You did well.” 

 

I gave my bat-girl a kiss. She was perhaps slightly crazy, but she was my crazy. 

 

She, like her sisters, was born out of the desire to communicate with a world that had gone mad. The ‘Fleshspeakers’ were a part of me, as I was part of them. We were both trying to control the chaos, and would be lost without each other. 

 

“Oh… Master…” Tama commented suddenly, only injecting herself into the conversation when matters of intimacy were involved. 

 

Her presence, however, reminded me of something else - her task. She was back sooner than expected, and the bats were already pondering a way to abuse that. 

 

“Tama,” I asked, softly. “Did you find out how Adepts are made?” 

 

I looked at her. She stood there, gracefully, with a vulpine grin, fluffy tails fanned behind her, waving an ordinary parchment in her hand. 

 

Angela still seemed to want to hold me in her wing-arms, but as far I could tell, it was only better and more amusing to Tama, as impractical it was. When one considered their enormous wingspan, the ‘Overseers’ were very large.

 

I eagerly focused on something other than blood and ruin, wondering whether the new weapon was indeed required. 

 

It was, I just didn’t come here for this, I came for a solution to prevent the bloodshed. 

 

For all their rather unsettling powers, my bat-girls, or perhaps Angela herself, didn’t have an unpleasant odour. It was more musky and smoky, a welcome distraction from the fact their creations ripped the human apart like a buzzsaw. 

 

“Yes, Master. I spoke to the human, Hyun-Ki.” Tama said, coming closer even though Angela’s wings blocked her way.Kasha did not care about being hidden, covered under the leathery blanket of the membrane. 

 

“Adepts are not made. They are selected.” 

 

“Like priestesses?” It wasn’t surprising if all the magic came from the dragons, it just raised a question where the dragon came from.

 

“No, Master. They are unique, having hidden potential without being blessed…” Tama said, snickering a little at the thought of the human with the potential: “Only one from ten thousand humans could be trained as Disciples, and only a few of those become Adepts. They have this inner power in them they can grow…” 

 

“An inner power? Magic?” I queried, to which Angela concurred with a soft “Master.” 

 

I could sense her thoughts. My chiropteran monster girl didn’t seem interested in the question, knowing the answer already, perhaps from the minds of the other girls, already conspiring to turn the ‘elites’ into nothing more but material to harvest. She wanted to utilise that energy, she  was just unsuccessful in sinking her claws into the specimen she needed. 

 

“I don’t know, Master. They don’t seem to be blessed, they are born gifted and trained…” 

 

“Do we know how to spot the gifted?” I asked. When I thought of it, a genetic predisposition to harness magical power sounds similar to the nebulous immunity to our own abilities. 

 

“I don’t know. The Sage you selected doesn’t know how the candidates are selected, only that the training is so…” Tama paused, her fluffy tails waving behind her as she looked for words, “...perilous, he wouldn’t survive it himself. Only the truly gifted could.” 

 

 “So? No one knows how to spot them? How does that work?”  

 

“By luck.” 

 

“Luck?” I looked at Narita, then Tama, and eventually Ekaterina. 

 

“Only the most distinguished soldiers are often trained here, Master,” she said, still fiddling with the parchment she brought, “He knows that here, only the decorated soldiers are selected in the hope they have the gift, but in the Jin Empire, they know how to select the candidates. This kingdom is running out of Adepts.” 

 

That wasn’t true - the town down on the coast had one of those pesky, hard-to-kill super-warriors as well - and as far I knew, we were heading away from the front lines, not towards them. 

 

Though, if there was a manpower issue, it explained the Viceroy’s interest in the ‘Adepts’ we could produce. 

 

“The Jin are the other faction?” Yet another name I would have to remember, but at the very least, it was the one I had heard before. “The Jin would be winning the war because they have more of those superpowered warriors? The adepts?” 

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

“Are they winning?” 

 

“Don’t know, Master.” 

 

“Were all the elites we fought against the Jin?” I asked instead. 

 

Tama answered with a shrug: “Humans look all the same.”  

 

It was unlikely that all the humans we encountered belonged to a singular faction: we fought soldiers and bandits, random wandering swordsmen too, one from the merchant’s guards. 

 

“And the others…” I asked, “The pirates? Are there superpowered ninja pirates too?” 

 

Tama shrugged, and Ekaterina didn’t seem very intrigued. The bear-lady yawned and said: “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were the only intelligent species in existence, Master?” 

 

This wasn’t the answer I was looking for. I looked expectantly at my rat-lady.

“We don’t know, Master.” Narita said, “We have caught none.” 

 

This brought us to the whole reason I wanted to talk to Angela in the first place, to find out who was who, especially after the new group came from the sea. However, the ‘Adepts’ weren’t the only reason I sent Tama out to question people. 

 

“And the scroll?” I asked, “I mean, the magical one. What is that?” 

 

“Oh, yes, Master.” Tama perked up. “Cinder wrote this down for you.” 

 

Cinder? Did I name a ‘Purifier’ Cinder? Is there Ash?

 

Not remembering how I named my first ‘Purifiers’ - aside from ‘Helmy’ - was embarrassing, but I didn’t have to wonder about it at this moment. 

 

The vixen rolled out the piece of paper, hanging it in front of my eyes. I blinked. 

 

“Angela. Could you round up whoever may have information from that pirate force?” 

 

“For Master…” 

 

As the bat-girl withdrew, carefully manoeuvring herself away finally focused on the paper Tama produced. 

 

The parchment, or perhaps the paper, it may not be actually made of the animal skin, was stained with  ink smeared by careless handling. It was messy and confusing scribbling, but still distinctively readable - in English surprisingly a rare sight in a world where I didn’t understand the language. 

 

Taking it my hands, I read:

 

“The first world, second from creation spring. Devoured by the fog. Second world, third from creation. Path lost. Third world, fourth from creation. Fourth world, fifth from creation….” 

 

I paused, looked up, and asked, 

 

“What does it even mean?” 

 

“Don’t know, Master.” Tama admitted. “We just wrote down what the Sage translated.” 

 

The ‘Purifiers’ could write, it seemed. 

 

They weren’t particularly tidy when it came to it. The barely available bottled ink, so rare that only the local record hall had some, and lack of proper writing supplies made it difficult to practise. I could hardly blame them for trying to write with their claws - the paper scroll, rag when I thought of it - certainly looked that way, but … 

 

I was proud of my little foxies: cute, smart, and born literate. 

 

“For Master!” they cheered, and I returned my attention to the scroll, reading it aloud, almost as if it would help us to discern its meaning. 

 

“A fifth world, sixth one from creation spring. The dragons couldn’t hold the boundary. Small seeds of fog birth the root. The fog that was and will be. Fog that is the death of stars. The dragon rebellion boundary fails. The fog that was and will be will consume them after the boundary falls. Then roots are planted at creation. Repeat the words and the crack in the truth shall appear….” 

 

Enough, I thought, handing it back to Tama. This was awkward. 

 

“What is this nonsense?” I asked. It sounded like rambling. 

 

“The translation, Master.” 

 

“An accurate one?” 

 

“As far as we could tell, Master.” The vixen shrugs. 

 

“It doesn’t sound particularly…” I paused, looking for words, “.... coherent.”  

 

Nor was it particularly informative, I thought, but considering this was merely a portion of the long text, scattered in  countless volumes of scrolls, translated from a language that was neither English, nor the native tongue of the local humans…

 

It would be naïve of me to expect all the questions to be answered by the first manuscript of  hundreds. 

 

Who knew if the Sage could, or would, translate the document accurately. 

 

It was, after all, forbidden text. Even the humans were referring to them that way. Perhaps Ari could help. The ‘fruit of arcane’ infused her not only with the magical powers, but made her bilingual in a matter of seconds. 

 

She could help if she wasn’t bound by our attempts to reconcile with the locals. 

 

I sighed. 

 

“Master?” Tama asked, feeling my disappointment. 

 

“Thank Cinder for her work, Tama.” I said, “I am grateful for all her work.” 

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

As frustrating as it was, the scrolls were not a problem we could solve overnight. It was a matter of serious study, requiring a dedicated effort to collect the next pieces of the puzzle. 

Considering the artefact we recovered had a diagram, I might as well read the captions pulled out of the context rather than the actual, comprehensive text. 

 

Patience was in order. 

 

“Cinder is eager to help…” the vixen offered. With a foxy grin, she added in a teasing tone: “Are you considering your next wife?” 

 

I ignored her. 

 

It was not what I thought about.

 

Angela was once again gathering the ‘drones’, skulking and dishevelled husks of the crew, devoid of mind, yet filled with the plethora of information I would need buried somewhere within the brains. Some wore armour with the symbols we had yet to uncover.

 

This prompted me to investigate. 

 

It was what I came here for, before Tama, before Angela’s wild invention… 

 

Before  my original plans were so thoroughly derailed by things  I didn’t even want to work on today. They had almost made me forget what I was there for. 

 

Enough of the distractions already. 

 

“Master?” Narita asked, and I gestured towards the zombified figures.

 

“Line them up.” I gestured, “I want Angela or any Fleshspeaker to comb through their minds, one by one. They must know who they served, and where they came from…” 

 

I would let my bats rip the information I needed from the drones, then give a pirate an offer he couldn’t refuse. 

 

And who knows, perhaps the location of another scroll is hidden there, too?