"Fuck."
The word hung in the air of the Moonlit Garden, a thin, pathetic vapor that vanished against the heavy, rhythmic grinding of serpent scales. The two white slits on the Serpent's forehead flared, casting a pale, ghostly light that made the silver liquid in the fountain ripple in sympathy.
Revvyn didn't move. He couldn't. His heart was hammering so hard against his bruised ribs that he was sure the Guardian could hear the rhythm. Every muscle in his body was screaming, still heavy from the Nymphs' sedative, still trembling from the near-drowning in the lake.
One thing after another, he thought, his stomach twisting with a cold, hollow dread. I just got out of the water. I just got away from those hags. Can't I just breathe for five seconds?
He felt like a mouse in a clockwork trap. Every step forward in this place only led to a bigger set of teeth. The silver trees, the glowing spores, the beautiful garden. It felt less like a forest and more of a digestive system. And he was the next meal. He looked for an exit, a gap in the trees, a shadow he could slip into, but the garden was too open, too perfectly curated to offer a hiding spot. He was at the center-stage of this death theatre.
The Serpent didn't need to roar or hiss or whatever big serpents did. It simply uncoiled, its massive body sliding over the moonstone path with a sound like wet silk being dragged over gravel. It rose higher and higher, the crystalline horns on its head vibrating with a low, bone-shaking hum that resonated in Revvyn's very teeth.
Revvyn gripped the hilt of his rusted cutlass. His palms were sweat-slicked. His knees felt like water, liquid. He looked at the massive, emerald-scaled mountain of muscle and realized with a sickening jolt that he was completely outmatched. He was a Level 5 mistake in a Level 20 nightmare.
Maybe I can parry? the thought flickered through his mind, only to be immediately extinguished by the sheer scale of the beast. Parrying that head would be like trying to stop a falling boulder with a toothpick. Maybe I can use the fountain as cover? No, the serpent was already coiled around it. Fuck me then.
"I just wanted the flowers," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Just the flowers and then I'm gone."
The Serpent struck.
It was a blur. A streak of emerald and obsidian so fast it defied the laws of ...physics ...motion. Revvyn barely had time to throw himself to the side. He hit the silver moss hard, the impact was jarring his already aching joints. The Serpent's head slammed into the moonstone path exactly where he had been standing, shattering the stone into thousand glowing shards.
Revvyn scrambled up, but he was sluggish. The mint in his blood felt like lead, dragging at his pulse, slowing his reactions by just enough to be fatal. He backed away, his eyes wide, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps.
The garden felt like it was closing in on him. Every statue of a weeping woman felt like it was watching him die, their stone faces frozen in eternal, silent pity.
He tried to find his center, to remember the basic footwork he'd practiced from his memories, but his mind was a chaotic mess of run. I'm fucked. hide. His legs wouldn't cooperate; they felt disconnected, two wooden stilts that he had to consciously force to move.
The Serpent turned with terrifying grace. It didn't lunge this time. It moved with a slow, predatory confidence, knowing its prey was cornered. It tasted the air with it's silver forked tongue, tracking the scent of his fear and the scent of his clothes.
"Syll! ...Distraction!"
The indigo mark on his hand flared, but it was weak. Syll materialized, but not as a boar, there wasn't enough mana for that but it divided itself into small dozen particles, vibrating violet orbs that scattered across the garden. They slammed into the shield-sized flowers, increasing the hum and vibration with a chaotic, screeching frequency.
The Serpent hissed, its head darting left and right, the white slits on its forehead flickering. It was momentarily blinded by the sensory overload, its vibration-sensitive nerves screaming under the assault.
This is it. The only chance. Revvyn didn't think. He ran.
He lunged toward the fountain, his boots skidding on the polished moonstone. Every step was a battle against the exhaustion pulling at his marrow. The moonflowers. The pale, translucent bloom that looked like it was made of frozen light, they were right there.
He could see the nectar glistening in the center. He could almost smell the cool, clean scent of the petals. If he could just get his hand on it, maybe the quest would trigger, maybe the system would grant him a reprieve.
He reached out, his fingers inches from the stem.
He was too slow.
Even blinded, the Serpent's instincts were honed for murder. Its massive tail, thick as a tree trunk and covered in razor-sharp obsidian ridges, whipped through the air in a blind, wide arc.
Revvyn saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. He tried to duck, to roll under the strike, but his body betrayed him. His hip caught, his muscles locked, and he was stuck in a half-crouch as the obsidian ridges closed the distance.
The impact was like being hit by a falling house.
Revvyn was launched into the air. For a heartbeat, there was no gravity, only the rushing wind and the smear of silver leaves against a dark sky. Then, he slammed into a bone-white tree. The wood didn't give; it felt like stone. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, his cutlass spinning away into the darkness, the metal clattering uselessly against the moonstone.
He tried to stand. He really did. He commanded his arms to push, his legs to find purchase, but his nervous system was static and a filled mess. The world was spinning, it was a kaleidoscope of silver moss and scales. Fear, cold and paralyzing, finally took total control. He realized, for the first time, that he was actually going to die here.
I didn't even get to say goodbye, he thought. Lily... Dad... The faces of the people he was doing this for flashed behind his eyelids, making the impending silence feel even heavier.
The Serpent sensed him. It didn't hesitate. It didn't need eyes to find a broken boy bleeding on the moss. It lunged through the vibrating white noise of the flowers and wrapped around him.
The coils were cold, heavy, and impossibly strong. In a heartbeat, Revvyn was encased in a prison of scales that smelled like rain and ancient earth.
The Serpent squeezed.
The sound was the worst part. A series of wet, staccato snaps that echoed in the quiet garden. Pop. Crack. Crunch.
Revvyn's world exploded into a white-hot agony. He felt his ribs cave in, the bone shards pressing into his lungs. He felt his collarbone shatter like cheap glass. He felt the long bones of his legs splinter like dry kindling. His lungs were crushed flat, the air forced out of him in a silent, bloody spray that painted the silver moss crimson.
He tried to scream, to let out one last defiant sound, but there was no air to carry it. He was a hollowed-out shell, his internal architecture collapsing under the pressure of the emerald guardian.
The Serpent would his skeleton into dust in a single, effortless motion. This was an execution, not a fight.
Revvyn's head lolled back. The pain was so absolute that his brain simply stopped trying to process it. The neurons reached a breaking point and went silent. There was just the cold, the dark, and the crushing weight of the scales.
So this is it, he thought, his consciousness fading into a dull gray. All that work. All those chapters. Ended by a snake in a pretty garden.
Suddenly, a wet, violet mass slammed into the Serpent's head.
Syll had pulled himself back together, surging into a single ball of slime. He didn't have the strength to transform, so he used the only weapon he had left: itself. He latched onto the Serpent's crystalline horns, his acidic body sizzling and bubbling against the monster's scales.
The Serpent shrieked, it was a jagged, agonizing tear in the moonlight. It was a sound of primal irritation and sudden, burning pain. It thrashed, its concentration broken. For a split second, the biological grip loosened.
It was enough. The massive coils slid away from Revvyn's broken body.
Revvyn hit the moonstone path like a sack of wet flour.
He lay there, a ruined heap of flesh and shattered bone, staring up at the silver sky. He couldn't move his arms. He couldn't move his legs. He was in a body that had been completely dismantled. He could feel the blood pooling beneath him, warm and sticky against the cold stone.
Move, he told his hand. Nothing happened. Breathe, he told his chest. It only stuttered with a wet, gurgling sound.
A few feet away, he saw it. A moonflower.
It had been knocked loose during the struggle, its pale, glowing petals resting on the silver moss just inches from his face. It looked so peaceful, so indifferent to his suffering. It was the cure. It was the future. And it was just out of reach.
The Serpent was already shaking Syll off, its tail whipping around to crush the defenseless slime against the bone-white bark. Syll chirped. It was a weak, watery sound of distress. The beast was turning back to Revvyn, its massive head lowering, the two white suns on its forehead burning with a divine, murderous fury.
It was preparing for the final strike, the one that would finish what the coils had started.
Revvyn looked at the flower.
He couldn't reach it. He couldn't fight. He couldn't even run.
He watched the Serpent's jaws open, revealing rows of glass-like teeth dripping with silver venom.
I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, Lily.
The flower was so close.