My head instantly twists to face her as my heart elevates in power, beating with thumps of strength that spread warmth to my water-chilled body. That feeling of something being wrong strikes at me like a hammer. This isn't Blake. She hasn't stuttered, she hasn't blushed, she hasn't fucked up even once since… since she went to sleep.
Not just that, but now that I think about it, she hasn't helped me at all. Nothing she has said has been helpful since then. Not a single piece of information from a Sincreak native that would be helpful. Just a bunch of "I don't know" and "not sure".
My hand falls to my side where Intervention lies as my eyes squint, and I prepare to fight. This isn't Blake. I don't know what it is, but she is not that shy girl.
"Blake" notices my preparations, and unlike the normal one that might grow confused, I just see this one nod ominously and smile. The smile is far too wide for an average human and stretches the skin so far that it breaks as "Blake" transforms before my very eyes.
And what she turns into makes me almost retreat from the island. It is a pale, skinny, six-armed creature with a gaping maw of endless teeth. The limbs move in irregular movement as it starts to move toward me with raspy sounds that leave its mouth.
"So naive… so tasty!"
The second that it speaks, I release the fires of Intervention at it, but as I get the first round out, Dakota, beside me, transforms as well and leaps for my arm with a jaw that rapidly turns into a meat grinder. The fox, the size of a medium dog, rapidly enlarges to be more prominent than a human with half a dozen spindly limbs. My eyes widen in surprise as I slip off the island backward, dodging "his" leap and rolling off the island ass first.
Scraps, cuts, and bruises welcome me as I slap against the rock and splash into the water below. Both Dakota and Blake are not honest; they are figments of this place, replaced by whatever the hell these two monsters are.
My mind spins rapidly as I try to gain some distance from the two creatures that follow me down the island, albeit a bit slower as I take the fastest way down possible. What are these two things?
Shapeshifting? Check.
Many limbs? Check.
Pale skinned? Check.
My heart skips a beat as my mind comes to the only possible conclusion. Skinwalkers, wait, no, these are not Skinwalkers. Those demons are highly intelligent to the point of being innate Mentalists, and by the way, they are chasing me is less intelligence and more instinct.
These have to be something else… But what? A Yenald, maybe? Otherworldly creatures, more akin to spirits than actual monsters, haunt people by transforming into loved ones and eating people as said loved ones. They used to be a much bigger problem as they have difficulty living in places with high populations and low amounts of Ether. The First mentioned wiping most of them out in his notes…
But this place? It has so much Ether in the area, either because of the Crossroads or because of whoever is writing those inscriptions. I don't even need to mention the limited number of people here. As far as I know, I'm the only person here anymore.
I turn around to them as I hear the splashes following me, and I rapidly squeeze and release the trigger of Intervention, using every single shell in the cylinder of the spinning shotgun to blow one of the monsters straight to whatever hell it came from. The front Yenald screeches as it dunks beneath the water to soothe the burns, but the amount of lead put into it will surely kill it shortly.
After the first one is out of the picture, I draw my dagger and, with a yell, stab at it. Ether flows through me, Strugglers Defiance for strength, and Rapturous in case this Yenald has some tricks up its sleeve. I try something new out as the maw of the Yenald seems to be quite dangerous when I stab toward it.
I backstep into the water and let myself fall backward as I try the trick I did on Johnny weeks ago before he promptly put me in a coma. I transform the Ether in Whetting and attempt the skill I named Slash for the first time in actual combat.
Several links of chains made of phantasmal and hard-to-see Ether emerge from the blade of my dagger as I Slash at the creature attempting to eat me. And more whip-like than blade-like, the Ether slams into the head of the creature as it extends and wraps around its neck.
In my mind, I instantly rename the skill to Leash, as the creature charges me despite the hit, and with a push against it and a claw to the side, I dodge to the side. But before it can get past me, I whip around and climb atop the monster, pulling the Leash as hard as I can.
The monster starts to go crazy as it claws, bucks and tries to get me off, but it's hard to do so in the water and with hold onto it with Leash. After a few seconds of this, I bring the hand of my dagger up to my mouth, and with a gigantic surge of Physical Strengthening to my jaw while releasing Rapturous, I bite down hard, hard enough to hold onto the Leash. Then, I draw my other dagger and stab into the back of the Yenald repeatedly until it stops moving.
Red blood covers me entirely by the time I'm done, and I'm panting so heavily that the water around me makes it hard to breathe as it presses against my chest.
I take a moment to look at the monsters and then at myself. A bit away is the other Yenald that has risen to the surface with horrible wounds. It is definitely dead, as it's not breathing or moving at all. Two dead and no injuries? That has to be a first, right?
Oh, wait, no. I feel a sting in my stomach. Looking down, I see a reasonably deep claw mark underneath the surface of the water on my stomach. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.
To clean and bandage my wound with whatever spare cloth I have, I make my way back to the island as I begin to worry for Dakota and Blake. What the hell happened to them? Are they okay? They damn well better be, or I'll kill whoever is making all this damned mist.
What do I do now, though? Do I just keep going forward? I'm sure it'll be a lot easier to find everyone once this mist is cleared. With it, I can only see thirty feet or so in any direction. That's probably the best plan, as I have no idea how to return to where I started. I could just head backward, but I doubt that will work. Footsteps are rarely wholly straight.
Once I make it to the island, I make my way up it, going around the parts that have a bit of my blood or ripped clothes on them from my fall. I even use a Leash, the newly tested skill that seems to be quite useful, to help hold me up with my teeth as I climb. I only have one arm, so I need to be creative. Physical Strengthening on my jaw and Leash on a dagger in my mouth put together can act as a rudimentary arm for now.
It's crude. It looks stupid. It even sounds impractical, but I just proved to myself that it works. When I'm at the top, I rip off some more pieces of my dwindling clothes and tie a bandage around my torso. Thankfully, I can fend off any disease with Ether. Or can I? I haven't gotten sick since I gained a Sigil, but surely bacteria and whatever other small stuff that exists can gain Ether, right?
I don't need to dwell on that bleak future, however. The current one is dark enough. Alone, cold, and wounded in the middle of a hallucinogenic swamp with extra-dimensional fiends that want to impersonate my friends and kill me as them. Not to mention that somewhere in this damned fog is the person who made all these inscriptions. At least they're likely to be here.
Haaaa… Fuck me.
I tie the bandage tie with a yank as I stand up from my sitting position. I got shit to do, friends to find, and mysteries to solve despite being the world's most ignorant Sigiled. Before I move any further, though, I reload Intervention. Even further, my supplies dwindle as I reach the bottom of the pack of shotgun shells. Twelve extra remain. Very little food as well. I ate or lost most of it during the chase for the cuts in myself or from my pack.
With a curse and a depressed sigh, I slide back down off of the island, safely this time. Somehow things always seem to be left to me. For just once, I'd like to be the person saved… No, that's not true.
I hate being powerless, but it does get exhausting. Yet, I'll do it anyway. Ma ain't raise no quitter.
And so, I return to wading through the high water for more of those islands or any sign of my friends. Hell, I'd even take Alonzo right now as company, but I know he ran away in the opposite direction. The coward. Can't believe he didn't even hold up his end of the deal. Eh… Yeah, I can. Man's a snake; all he is missing is the rattle and scales. His undead have the venom, I'm sure.
The water only seems to get colder as I walk, though, the chill piercing into me. The tiredness of not sleeping and constantly moving, fighting, or hiding is starting to eat at me as well. My eyes are hard to keep open, and each step grows heavier and heavier. I can't keep going on like this, or I might faint standing.
With a grunt, I activate Indefatigable, the skill that I learned from Blake to reduce tiredness. Ether pulls out the energy hidden within me as I feel a shot of coffee run through my ragged and weary system.
It makes my back stand a bit straighter and tougher. My feet are a bit more stable, and my mind is a bit clearer. It doesn't do anything for the pain in my temples from the constant laughter that I've grown to ignore. Nothing has appeared from the mist or the dancing colors within it either; the shimmering figures just come into vision now and again but never come any closer. They have just seemed to become a new constant in my life.
Hours pass as I move through this water, and I am forced to use Indefatigable several more times, pulling as much energy out of my drained body as I can to stay awake. I can just feel something, and I'm unsure if it's because of what happened to Blake and Dakota or what. But I'm almost certain that sleep is dangerous. That something happens when you close your eyes for rest. A creature must be watching me, whether it is spiritual or not, just waiting to enter my mind for when I rest.
This distrust in the reality around me is not ungrounded. Sleep is when the human mind comes closest to the spirits around us as our souls become slightly unanchored. Sleep is the only time that an average human can reach and interact with the extra-dimensional or the supernatural. If I fall asleep, I am opening myself up to whatever might be nearby in a spiritual form. And I guarantee that there is plenty around with the Crossroads opening itself up to just about anything that wanders nearby. Exhibit A is whatever is making all that laughter and phantasmal figures in the fog.
But as I see another island enter my vision from the depths of the fog, this one yet again bigger than any before, nearing the size of several buildings, the tiredness starts to eat at me once more. Weary and heavy eyes are forced away by Indefatigable once more as I feel a sharp pain run across my body, originating from my stomach.
I look down at myself while I'm climbing up the dark rock of the island, and all that I see is my skinny body. Although, it is beginning to look malnourished and feeble, like when the Bloody Palm devoured my body to heal me.
The side effects of Indefatigable. Energy in exchange for my fat, muscles, and whatever else the Ether can get its grubby tendrils on. The pain is my body saying that I need to eat. That I can't go on any longer without food or energy.
I should have eaten those two monsters I killed. Actually, it's probably better that I didn't. Who knows what's inside those things? I miss Ma's breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I claw my way to the top of the island with thoughts of fruit and warm meat, and when I make it to the top, I roll onto my back and take deep gasps. My whole body is being overpowered by hunger pangs. How long has it been since I slept? I don't know, but I'm sure Heath and Johnny would disapprove, although Abraham might slap me with a high-five.
Thankfully, the hunger isn't at its worst quite yet. I only know this because I've experienced the far fringes of starvation before. The madness, the hallucinations, and the feeling of pure cold. None of that is here yet. That means I still have time. Not much; I'm sure with this cold water and the wounds, my body is healing alongside the lack of sleep, but it will do.
It has to.
After a moment of a self-pep-talk, I roll over and get on my knees as I look over all the inscriptions releasing misty Ether into the air around me. I have to be getting close to the center, right? How many is this? Four? Five? Six? I don't quite remember; to be honest, it all kind of blends together.
Drawing my knife, I begin to scratch away at the inscriptions once more, and after an hour of hungry gnawing with my blade, the inscription fails. And for the first time, I feel an immediate effect as this island is much larger than any of the others. The pausing of mist grants a few seconds of peace from the omnipresent laughter, but it does take me half of the blissful relaxation to even notice that it is gone.
I briefly close my eyes and enjoy the lack of sound as everything goes utterly quiet for just a few moments, but after two or three seconds of this peace, I feel weightless. Instantly I awake from this calm and wave my arms, catching myself before I slam into the rock below. I blink rapidly to push the tiredness away and push a stream of Indefatigable to force myself to awareness.
I think I fell asleep for a fraction of a second there. The short period of peace was enough to lull me into unconsciousness. Fuck. It's getting tough to stay awake. And as this lack of noise exists, I only grow more tired, even with the shot of pure coffee into my veins. My mind is inundated with feelings from all over as my eyes are practically pulled down. These sensations are otherworldly and cover me with their absurdity.
It's almost like the noise exists to protect me from something in the mist… Something that forces… Something slimy and crystalline… Something flapping loudly… Something... So—...
AGH!
My mind clears as my eyes open once more, staring at the blade in my thigh. Fuck fuck fuck.
The pain clears the tiredness and sleepiness for a little bit, but after a few minutes of me sitting here, waiting for the laughter to return, the tiredness returns, and I'm forced to twist the knife.
Damnit! Blood runs down my leg and dyes the black stone beneath me a slightly red color as I do everything I can to stay awake. Indefatigable isn't doing anything against this. With only one other thing available that can help me, I spread Ether through my body in the motion and sensation of Rapturous, and I immediately start to feel better. The extreme tiredness exits, and I'm left with a pounding heart and far too many consecutive uses of Indefatigable running through my system.
I stand, ignoring the bleeding in my leg as my heart beats nearly thrice per second. The gatling gun in my chest makes me feel like I can do anything right now. With the shaky energy in my hands, I feel like I could kill a God!
That's quite arrogant, though, and as I start to walk toward the other side of the island, I come to my senses. Indefatigable has some other, more hidden, side effects. I was not expecting the confidence and hotheadedness that comes with consecutive uses, but it could come in handy.
As I reach the other side, though, I also notice that the laughter returns to my ears, only that it is quieter than usual. Almost like I damaged some core part of whatever was producing it. But just as it disappears, I can almost swear I hear the sound of leathery bat wings flapping, which instantly puts me on edge.
But just like usual, as I look around, there is nothing but mist, rock, and water.