The gray light of dawn filtered through the shutters, casting long, dusty stripes across the floorboards. Crispin woke on his bedroll in the main room, his muscles stiff from the damp chill that had seeped through the cabin's thick timber walls. The hearth was nothing but a heap of glowing white ash and charred husks, the last of the warmth clinging to the stones.
He lay there for a moment, listening to the rhythmic drumming of the storm outside, which had settled into a steady, hypnotic pulse. Above him, the light creak of floorboards from the second story signaled he wasn't the only one awake.
His mind drifted to the previous night. It may have been only hand-holding and cuddles, but it had been so intimate. The closeness of someone who had always admired…someone who now saw him as an equal. He smiled.
Bethany descended the stairs; she looked like a professional tamer. She wore her ranging leathers, reinforced at the joints with boiled drake-hide, and braided her hair so tight it looked like a crown of spun gold. The flush and the hesitation of the night before had vanished, replaced by a calm, steady light. As she passed Crispin to reach for the tea kettle hanging over the dead fire, her hand brushed his shoulder. It was a lingering touch.
"The rain has let up," she said, her voice low. "But the mist is worse."
They ate a quick, silent breakfast of dried rations before stepping out into the world. The wetlands had transformed.
The storm had shifted into a relentless, fine mist that turned the air into a heavy soup, smelling of stagnant water and ancient, rotting vegetation. Every breath felt thick enough to chew. Regulus led the way, his Hydra form low and wide to distribute his weight across the treacherous peat. His three heads swayed in independent arcs, tasting the air.
His central head snapped forward, locking onto a specific scent trail.
"Crispin," the thought pulsed through the link, sharp and medicinal. "The smell. Bitter. Like the farm, but old. It is the poison that rots."
"Necrotoxin," Crispin whispered, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his blade.
The confirmation chilled him more than the mist. They pushed deeper into the mire, where the weeping willow-oaks grew in twisted, arthritic clusters. The wind picked up, driving the mist into sudden, violent stabs of icy rain that rattled against their gear. The deeper they went, the more the terrain fought them. Roots curled like reaching fingers from the black mud, and the "ground" often turned out to be nothing more than a floating mat of vegetation.
"I think I see something," Crispin said, pausing near a cluster of weeping ferns that someone had unnaturally trampled. "Come here."
Bethany stepped up beside him. The bank they stood on was narrow and slick, and as she adjusted her footing, Crispin moved behind her to provide a steadying weight. His chest brushed against her shoulder, his proximity a solid, warm anchor against the damp gloom. He reached out, pointing toward a distant ridgeline where the silhouette of the trees looked jagged and wrong.
"There. See the canopy? Someone cleared a path for mounts, and they didn't care about being subtle."
Bethany leaned back slightly, her head resting against the side of his for a fleeting, quiet second.
"I see it," she whispered, pulling away with a determined nod. "I'll have Ashara scout the area. If there's a camp or a larger force, she'll see the heat signatures."
They continued forward, the path eventually disappearing into a true bog. A massive, fallen willow-oak lay across a black, bubbling pool of stagnant water, serving as the only bridge to the ridge. Crispin stepped onto the moss-covered trunk first, his boots sliding dangerously before his spikes bit into the wood.
"Careful, it's really slick," he warned, turning back to extend a hand.
Bethany took it without hesitation, her fingers locking with his as he guided her across the center of the span. As she stepped down onto the muddy bank on the far side, the water to their left erupted.
Four giant salamanders launched themselves from the black depths in a coordinated ambush. They were two meters of corded, violet muscle and snapping jaws; their skin shimmered with a toxic, iridescent slime. One lunged with terrifying speed, its needle-like teeth grazing the edge of Crispin's boot as he leaped backward.
Regulus launched forward like a battering ram. His heavy Hydra body slammed into the largest salamander, the sheer force of the impact pinning the creature into the mud. His central head clamped onto its neck with a sickening crunch, while his two flanking heads lashed out in a blur, snapping at the eyes and soft underbellies of the other two attackers.
The fight devolved into a chaotic, splashing struggle. The salamanders were deceptively fast, their thick tails whipping through the air like clubs. One swung low, catching Crispin's leg and nearly upending him into the muck. He rolled, coming up with his blade leading, and drove the steel into the creature's flank. Void Lash slashed the air. Distance was what he needed in this fight.
"Their skin is too slick!" Crispin shouted.
"Behind you!" Bethany cried.
She had her bow up in a blur, the string creaking as she drew back to full power. An arrow hissed through the rain, burying itself deep in the throat of a third salamander just as it prepared to spring at Crispin's back. The creature let out a high-pitched warble and collapsed, thrashing in the reeds.
Regy wrestled brutally with the Alpha. The salamander had wrapped its body around Regulus, trying to crush his golden hide, but Regy shifted his density, his two side heads tearing into the creature's midsection.
The fourth salamander, the smallest and swiftest, circled around the flank. It bypassed Crispin entirely, focusing on Bethany as she reached for another arrow. It launched itself from the mud, jaws wide. Crispin lunged, throwing his shoulder into the beast mid-air.
They both went down into the freezing water. Crispin felt the burn of the creature's toxic slime against his exposed wrists, but he didn't let go. He found a grip beneath the jaw and twisted, his blade finding the soft gap in the throat.
The beast shrieked and went limp, its black blood clouding the water.
Regulus finally finished the Alpha, his three heads pulling in opposite directions until the creature's spine gave way. The third salamander, the one Bethany had wounded, was still crawling forward, its eyes milky with rage.
A shadow fell over the clearing. A streak of white and gold descended from the canopy, the air vibrating with a piercing draconian challenge. Ashara unleashed a concentrated stream of fire. The blast caught the wounded salamander mid-crawl, the intense heat flash-boiling the water around it and toasting its hide to a crisp.
The bog became quiet again, except for the loud breaths of the two Tamers and the sound of the burned ground.
"Late to the party, but she entered," Crispin panted, wiping a thick smear of black slime from his cheek. His heart was hammering against his ribs, but adrenaline pulsed in unison.
Bethany smiled, her shoulders finally dropping from their combat stance. "She likes the dramatic finish. She's been watching too many of those High Terrace displays."
Crispin moved to the carcasses, pulling his specialized skinning knife from his belt. The hides of these salamanders, prized for their water-resistance and light armor rating, proved perfect for the very gear they were wearing. He worked with practiced efficiency, peeling the thick, plum-colored skins away while Bethany stood guard, her bow still nocked.
LEVEL: 5→6 (Crispin)
[1110→225 / 1400]
Attributes:
Strength 12 | Dexterity 20 | Endurance 15→18
Perception 16→17 | Will 17
Ki: 45→50
LEVEL 7 (Regulus)
[710→1498 / 1600]
"That was unexpected," Bethany noted, looking at her own interface. "These things were higher tier than the usual bog-rats."
Crispin tucked the harvested skins into an oiled bag. Regulus approached, his heads weaving back into a single, large mass. He rippled, his liminal storage opening like a dark rift within his translucent body and swallowed the haul.
Crispin stood up, looking back toward the ridge where the cut trees marked the sky. The necrotoxin scent was stronger now, carried on the shifting wind.
"First range, first blood," Crispin said, his voice hardening. "Let's move and investigate. They've been using that poison on something much larger than salamanders."