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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (155/?) Revised Version 2
🕑 Added 2025-12-21 18:15:36 +0000 UTC(Author’s Note: Hey guys! My editor has edited this chapter now so it’s mostly just grammar and spelling and syntax edits for the most part! :D As always I do suggest that you guys give this another read through! :D)
The Kingdom of Transgracia. The Great Forests of Elaseer. Alcove of the Forgotten. Matriarch’s Chambers. Local Time: ???
Many, Many Generations Ago
???
The cave was dark, damp, moist, but worst of all—
Breathe in. Breathe out.
—it smelled of dust and decay.
Hear my voice. The old crone droned.
Breathe in. She continued as if it was a prayer.
Breathe out.
On and on and on and on.
…
It needed to stop.
Grandmother, please—
I could feel the old relic stirring, her scales shifting as her gems thrummed violently against the cave walls.
Keep your thoughts to yourself, child, and concentrate. She projected — her thoughts purposeful, their images vivid — teasing and testing my patience for a world that was our birthright.
That sort of thinking is dangerous, Kaelthyr. The ‘matriarch’ warned… though the threats, as practiced and regal as they were in my mind, fell as flat and limp in my thoughts as the dead values she extolled.
I heard that. She continued threateningly.
And? Perhaps you needed to hear that. Perhaps you need to understand that no amount of training or concentration in the Old Ways is going to bring it back.
Kaelthyr! A growl from an aged throat reverberated.
Maybe it’s about time someone stood up, that someone challenged this farce of an existence! I stood firm, projecting my thoughts forward, making certain that everyone would feel the indignancy I felt, the frustration I embodied, and the inferno enveloping my soul. Look above you! What do you see?! Stone! Nothing but stone! This… ‘sanctuary’ is nothing more than a tomb, a catacomb for a dead empire. Our existence, our living, means nothing if we remain phantoms to the world. I stood firm, standing on all four legs to face what remained of our pitiful congregation. What good is survival when we survive for nothing but survival’s sake? That makes us no better than the animals they make us out to be. Mere beasts with only the siring of new generations to look forward to, and nothing mor—
SILENCE! The matriarch erupted.
All thoughts halted as my eyes glazed over in a fit of disorientation, confusion, and a surge of uncontrollable anguish.
It was then and only then, when I was forced to the brink, that I finally started to slowly breathe, taking in controlled breaths if not at the behest of the matriarch, then simply for the survival of my own psyche.
You are still young, scarcely a dragonness, and by today’s actions… perhaps closer in maturity to a fledgling. The matriarch’s words rang loudly, completely overwhelming my inner monologue, dangerously close to— replacing it. Our words resonated, causing fear to ripple through my very soul.
Be not afraid. For fear is to the flayers what blood is to the shark. Matriarch Syvrak warned darkly, her words still close to subsuming my own. I can feel your frustrations. She continued, her eyes soon shifting to all others present. All of your frustrations. She reiterated, her form never once flinching from the rocky pedestal she sat atop. But know that a thousand years of frustrated turmoil is still preferable to the fate that awaits us outside of this sanctuary.
I… would still dare… to tempt… such a fate. I managed out in between pained thoughts, each word more difficult to form than the next, let alone projecting it forward.
All eyes once more landed on me, either out of pity, concern, or even shock at my declaration of rebellion in all but name.
Though the matriarch’s eyes remained — as they always were — condescendingly nurturing.
You speak out of spite, and the ache of an unfelt sky. This, I understand. You are correct in asserting that the world is our birthright. However, you misunderstand what it is I hope to accomplish. The matriarch responded with poise, her wings flaring, causing the crystals around us to pulsate softly. Perhaps it is my own folly for assuming you would understand at such an age. However, to sate your lust for your untested flame, I will expound on that which is our ultimate aim. The old dragon paused, reaching forwards with a hand outstretched. There exists a call, a distant hum, a droning from beyond the veil of a looming dark festering in its territorial slumber. Its call is faint, a barely noticeable flicker of dark in the overwhelming light that connects us all. But it is there, and it is a glimmer of light at the end of this infernal tunnel in which we all reside.
I closed my eyes, focusing, attuning, offering my thoughts wholly to this fleeting thought.
…
But all I could see, the only thing I could sense, was a… disturbance. A small errant shift in the otherwise infallible web of our grand crystal lattices.
To your eyes, it may seem like nothing. But in time, with experience, you will see what I see.
A minor aberrancy? I shot back scathingly.
The existence of something outside of Nexian perfection. A crack in the glass. One which shall grow with time.
=====
The Life Archives. Somewhere Underneath the Warehouse District. Crown Herald Town of Elaseer.
Kaelthyr
Breathe in.
I held firm.
Breathe out.
I held strong.
Breathe in.
And in lieu of my binds—
Breathe out.
—I hung defiantly.
But each breath taken brought forth pain.
The ache of flesh,
The sting of pride,
And worse, without peer… The betrayal whose fire refused to die.
Hear my voice… I bellowed forth, even if I understood long ago that nobody was listening… or that no one was willing to answer.
I felt the incoherent resonance of a thousand disparate voices, each straddling the lattices, all making a complete mockery of what should have been the domain of draconic will. I felt my mind… shattered, my psyche scattered across a thousand concurrent points. Words, symbols, images, and concepts both unknown and enigmatic flashing all at once in a muddled mess.
There was no respite.
There was no more silence.
If anything, I got my wish… just in a way fate had dictated in my stead.
I saw it all, from everywhere, all at once… through words, whispers, and sights not of my own accord.
And yet, in that infinite cascade of unfathomable variety, I saw it.
It started as a mere flicker of dark in a whirlwind of light.
Then, it grew. Not in size, scale, nor scope… but in frequency.
I saw it more often in my periphery, these… conversations into the dark, the empty… the void.
I knew not how long these sojourns into the abyss went.
However, I knew at least what they represented.
The Coming Dark.
And so I waited.
Months, years, decades, I no longer kept track.
But I waited.
All for the hope that one day, that small crack would finally grow into an irreparable fracture, a gaping fissure in the foundations of this rotten empire.
…
That day came sooner than I imagined.
And it all began with an earth-shattering—
BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!
Disorientation took hold first.
But it wasn’t the blast itself that caused such a fierce reaction.
I’d been knocked, blasted, shunted, and clawed at with far greater destructive force than this, all without breaking my stride or resolve.
The difference here, however, was the nature of the blast.
There was no magic present.
There was no alteration or shift, no draining nor pawing at the great lifestreams to incur such wrath.
It was as if the force was spontaneous, perhaps natural in origin.
But I knew better than to even consider such a naive explanation.
The explosion was deliberate. The forces were not a matter of chance, nor were they preceded by accompanying auras.
Moreover, nothing natural would have been allowed to manifest under the ‘eternally’ watchful sentry of the frail two-legged pests.
Speaking of those pests…
The smell of flames and the unmistakable scent of singed Nexian soon filtered down through the broken brick and shattered mortar.
The unmistakable acrid singe of burnt hair and skin sending a newfound war lust down my long and aching spine.
I opened my maw for the first time without the deliberate and forceful motions of a ‘caretaker.’
And in the first instinct I fell to after all this time trapped, bound, and partially gagged… I grinned a toothy, bloodthirsty smile.
The black-robed one bleeds… I announced in a fit of excitement. Lifestream-ladened blood coursing through my body as I reached in earnest for my wings.
CLINK!
CLINK!
One by one the chains fell.
CLINK!
Their mounts weakened as the structure above crumbled into the depths of this infernium made manifest, shattering any and all integrity of the world hidden beneath.
I stood firmly on four legs once more, stretching and cracking joint after joint and muscle after muscle, as the grotesque marionette-like binds I’d been pinioned into still bore deep scars into my flesh and bone.
Though, unbound by its lifestream-denying properties, I felt my body healing already.
It wouldn’t be long before the flesh was restored. Which made all the more sense to wait out my prey.
The formerly dark and twisting corridors of this cavernous dungeon were now filled with a careening mass of detestable creatures. Each clamoring over one another for an exit, all seething with panic, hunger, pain, and undoubtedly, rage.
They would serve as fodder, weakening the black-robed scum above, as I could smell the fear emanating from the sweat of his brow.
It was delectable, tantalizingly so.
And yet… there was something else that was undoubtedly nipping at my scales.
It was faint, a distinct sort of sensation exclusive and divergent from that of the flicker of dark within my lattices.
There was a physicality to it, a presence not within the immaterial webways and lattices but still invisible to most.
I closed my eyes, concentrating, listening not through my ears nor through my lattices, but through sights I’d barely touched even prior to my internment.
…
I felt them.
Multiples, pulsing, speaking, miming, and mimicking, all in a foreign facsimile of what had to be communication.
Their pulses were deliberate, practiced in perfection, unnaturally so.
The longer I listened and the more I observed, the clearer their nature became.
These weren’t individuals.
They were parts of a greater whole. Each an extension, a daughter and son to a matriarch that commanded them without mercy; tethering each through leashes so exotic that there existed little comparison, at least, not without magics.
And yet… I felt nothing beyond their chatter, nor the drawing of lifestreams from where their matriarch stood. It was as if they were invisible, pebbles and rocks amidst the turbulent lifestreams around them, their shapes vaguely cast in negatives through the light they blotted out.
They were, in every sense of the word… foreign.
I needed to see them.
So I rose.
Claws and magics carved, tore, and ripped into enchanted brick and mortar.
Rocks crumbled to dust, and woods erupted into flame and cinder with each and every grasp, until finally…
ROOAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!
I felt the air… hot, scathing, and steaming with as much death as it did freedom.
Instinct and muscle memory forced my wings to unfurl in one swift motion, as I finally felt the untempered and unadulterated lifestreams bathing them in a relief so indescribable that I couldn’t help but to give in to that draconic call to…
ROOAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!
For a brief moment in time, all that existed was me. And in that fleeting instance, I felt nothing more. No elven scum or dwarven bugs, no deceitful kobolds nor two-faced satyrs, nothing as I overpowered the world around me.
…
Save for the tiny, minuscule pebbles that still stood in the way of the lifestreams.
I opened my eyes, staring at the devastation left in the explosion’s wake, as I attempted to locate the shadowy matriarch of this unbidden swarm.
Scarcely a second was needed to do so. But the fact that it wasn’t immediately obvious merely added to the dull matriarch’s enigma.
I expected a grand being, or at least one of its heralds.
A force with the substantial presence to make sense of the devastation it so clearly wrought.
Moreover, I expected something other, a presence not of the elven proclivity for their dollhouse heritage.
Instead… what I saw was an armored figure. A knight of modest dressage and subpar form.
She wasn’t even maintaining a warrior’s stance; instead, she knelt down, tending to one of them.
This caused my tail to tighten, my brows to furrow, and my flames to begin broiling deep within my throat.
However, before rage could overpower what little curiosity I had left in my war-weary soul, I finally noticed it.
She was hollow.
No mana seeped from nor entered into her armored form.
What’s more, no runic enchantments, crafty spellcraft, nor alchemical trickery was present on that exoskeleton in all but name.
Her lack of presence, her animated inanimacy, those properties of life that defied the living… all of it beckoned something far greater than the sum of just her appearances.
There was something else hiding within.
Something truly enigmatic, which stowed away underneath these scales of foreign metal.
I tried everything to scour, scry, and reach beyond the surface of this… being.
But it was all for nought.
Which left only one option.
SNAP!
…
Yet once again…
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR…
My ambitions were dashed by the advances of the elven filth.
Fire once more returned where curiosity had tentatively taken hold, as rage coveted every ounce of worldly presence I possessed in that moment.
THWACK!
I swatted the insect away, feeling the satisfying crumple of armor giving way into flesh and bone.
It was just unfortunate how quick it all was, how transient those motions were, as the black-robed elf simply skidded off into the waters of the canal beside us.
SPLASH!
Well-earned silence should have descended following that squashed threat.
But alas…
“Vanavan! I found Emma Booker!”
… the world was no longer following the rules of draconian sense.
I gave the interloper matriarch one last look before I took to the skies, even going so far as to entertain this Baxi’s attempts at restraining me.
Though that latter decision was the closest I’d admit to regret on this night. As despite overpowering the Baxi’s soft and half-hearted spells, I failed to take stock of the path of my well-earned flight. As I flew straight into—
CLINK!
—one of the matriarch’s children.
The little thing whined and churrrrrred within a dense patch of crystals, shivering, shuddering, and crying out in little spurts of well-timed despair.
It was pathetic. In an… inexplicably endearing light.
Though sadly, I had little time to make matters right by the enigmatic matriarch, even as I tracked her presence back to the castle atop the hill.
Still… I took the time to stare through the grand glass facade, making certain that our two eyes locked, provided she even had eyes to speak of beneath that facsimile of a knight’s facade.
Though sadly, this brief interlude was destined to be as short as our encounter above the archives.
The castle, with its powerful magics rivalling even Matriarch Syvrak, was not a demon to be trifled with, not even with the enigma of the matriarch just standing there to be cracked open.
So I left.
My wings beating the air around me, turning leypull into but an afterthought as I drained and channeled the lifestreams to my own personal design; serving what it was fated to serve.
No elf or drake rider could follow me as I surged upwards towards the veil, beating my wings harder and harder, straining, but ultimately embracing the ache and strain of the weight of my form carried aloft both membrane and sinew.
It didn’t take long until I managed to breach the thick layer of clouds, penetrating the ridiculous spell cast by the incumbent master of that castle, reaching into that thin layer of air rarely frequented this far out into our former domain.
Here, high above it all, beneath the soft glow of the night’s light, in the midst of the beauty of the veil and the colorful dancing of primavalic energies, did I finally, after eons… feel something resembling comfort and bliss once more.
I was finally at home.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Foot of the Hill. Local Time: 2225 Hours.
Present Day
Emma
Crimson still dripped from the seven bullet holes I’d landed on the shatorealmer. Its membranes torn, its shoulder blades... shredded, and its eyes completely glazed over.
And yet… words still emanated from its mouth, its vocal cords hijacked and its lungs clumsily repurposed not for respiration, but for the sole utility of generating manual speech.
I froze in place.
My gun was still raised, trained not at the shatorealmer but the dragon that puppeted it.
We didn’t speak, neither Thalmin or myself finding it within ourselves to respond, receptively or threateningly.
It was only after a second, more ‘refined’ greeting that this entire… situation finally sink in.
“Sma-ll. Ma-tri-arch. Come to talk. Come to reclaim—” The dragon raised a finger, pointing towards the recovered drone half-lodged into my backpack. “—missing child.”
“Oh.” Came my first response, my heart racing while my hand started relaxing, lowering my gun if only for a moment. “Y-yeah. I did come for the drone.” I responded matter-of-factly, all semblances of diplomatic intent and rehearsed first contact formalities retreating out of exhaustion, confusion, and most of all… disbelief and complete shock at the grisly sight in front of me.
“Sma-ll. Ma-tri-arch. Wishes for gems. Sawing. Carving. Disfiguring my form.” It continued, a bit more accusingly this time.
This definitely gave me pause for thought as I turned to Thalmin, heart racing before nodding softly and respectfully towards the dragon. “Y-yeah. I’m also attempting to acquire one of your crystals. B-but it’s for a good cause, and I… I wasn’t at all aware that you were sapient! If I’d known, I would’ve never, ever committed such a vile and reprehensible transgression. I’m more than willing to discuss terms with you for sufficient reparations as amends towards any transgressions incurred.” I blurted out, my mind jumbling, racing, combining bits and pieces of bureau-diplomatic speak from classes that had prepared me for every eventuality, even ones as far-fetched as this. Though perhaps not specifically with a dragon in mind.
“I return.” They pointed once more to my backpack. “I give.” They gestured to the crystals in one of my pouches. “But now you return. Let me see you.” The shatorealmer’s voice spoke menacingly, the dragon letting out a series of chirp-growls all the while, before all of a sudden—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—we were both hit with three successive bursts of mana radiation.
Thalmin’s counterspells didn’t even have a chance to deploy. And in a moment I hadn’t yet expected, the mercenary prince’s features for the first time showed signs of complete and utter shock.
“Thalmin! Are you—”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
The dragon surged forwards.
In a blink of an eye, it’d pinned Thalmin down with a muscled tail, moved its serpentined head barely a foot from my head, and then simply stopped.
ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 104% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS… WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED… RECALIBRATING… RECALIBRATING… ERROR! DETECTING UNDEFINED ‘30th’ MANATYPE.
My heart skipped a beat as I felt time slowing to a crawl. The dragon attempted to lock eyes through my lenses, its slitted pupils contracting and dilating, its eyes darting left, right, up, and down, as if digging, rummaging, and scouring for something before suddenly… it stopped.
However, just before I could react with an appropriate counterattack, the dragon leaped back at impossible speeds, taking several steps towards the treeline as it regarded me with eyes widened in disbelief.
Thalmin clearly wasn’t having any of this, as the instant he was released, he called Aquastride forward, both mount and prince ready for an attack.
The corpse’s lips twitched, the dragon once again forcing them to speak.
“I meant no harm to your Knight, Matriarch. I needed to see. And to see is dangerous.”
“Shut it with the cryptic bullshit and tell us what the hell your angle is!” I yelled, bringing the railgun to bear once more, and clearly eliciting something within the dragon.
“I needed to know you. Your nature. Your origin. Your truth.”
Its voice shifted once more, attempting to transition into what I could only imagine was a more personable softness, though its effectiveness was… dubious, each word coming across more like a hoarse echo than anything.
“I needed to understand, Matriarch of the Void.”
The dragon raised a paw, lifting a single finger towards Thalmin.
“Your Knight is not of your kind. His is of the Elven domain. He would not have survived my sight.”
The shatorealmer’s voice hitched for a moment, as the dragon ‘recalibrated’ its breathing, before continuing in earnest.
“So I restrained him, to keep him alive.” They once more paused before leveling their eyes on Thalmin. “And to ensure he does not interfere.”
I didn’t respond, and neither did Thalmin, as tensions flared in the midst of a freshly minted battlefield.
“I have seen what I desired. You may leave if you wish. The debt of grievances and misunderstandings… has been rectified.” The dragon offered, gesturing towards the open forest around us. “You and I, unlike I and this world, are free of mutual grief. Leave peacefully…” It paused before slowly and expectantly gesturing towards the cave. “... or fulfill your destiny.”
I blinked rapidly at this, Thalmin’s features stiffening as he growled in indignant frustration.
“And what exactly is my ‘destiny?’” I shot back, throwing the dragon the ball if only to see where this went.
“To resist the light.” It spoke with a toothy grin. “Because to fail is to suffer the fate of either your Knight—” It paused, gesturing at Thalmin. “—or my kin.”
I could feel Thalmin seething up a storm at the dragon’s constant jabs.
This prompted me to finally respond, to first address the elephant in the room, and to push for at least a more proper channel of dialogue.
“Before I agree to anything, we need to get something straight.” I gestured to Thalmin. “The ‘Knight’, is not my knight.” I spoke carefully, attempting to avoid divulging too much—
“Just be out with it, Emma.” Thalmin urged. “You needn’t be sparing with your testimonies, for the last thing this dragon will allow is to be recaptured and questioned by the Nexus.”
“Your Knight speaks the tru—”
“I am no Knight.” Thalmin rebutted, causing even the dragon to widen their eyes in surprise at his flippancy. This mild surprise eventually turned into something of a sly and purposeful smile, a fact reflected only on the dragon’s crystal-laden snout; not shared on their puppeted mouthpiece.
“Then state your titles, lupinor.”
“I am Prince Thalmin Havenbrock of Havenbrockrealm.” He uttered proudly.
“Well met.” Came the dragon’s curt words, before they shifted their attention back to me.
“I’m Cadet Emma Booker of the Long Range Expeditionary Forces. Representative of the Greater United Nations and the people whose mandate I carry.” I declared proudly, garnering yet more quizzical looks from the dragon.
“And what, pray tell, are these people?”
“Humanity.” I responded politely.
“Hu…mannnnityyy.” The dragon enunciated slowly, as if thinking the word over in some deep introspective thought.
A few seconds' worth of this silence filled the late-night air before finally, the dragon’s shatorealmer mouthpiece broke the silence.
“I am…” The dragon forced the shatorealmer to pause, as a deep, gravelly, bassy rumble emanated from within their throat.
“KAELTHYR!” They bellowed out in their actual tongue. The word felt… raw, forced out of a throat that clearly wasn’t used to verbal speech.
“Unblooded Matriarch, and inheritor of all beneath the veil.” Kaelthyr quickly switched back to the shatorealmer, though she made sure to make her disdain of her ‘mouthpiece’ known with a forced and sickly squeeze of the floating body. “I will not have this… Nexian filth despoiling my name, not even in death.” The dragon shook the shatorealmer’s corpse for added effect, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Understandable.” Thalmin acknowledged with a nod.
To which Kaelthyr could only grin toothily, gesturing to him with a claw. “You carry good company, human. Now… let us begin in earnest.” The dragon moved forward towards the death-ridden cave, gesturing for us to follow.
We did so reluctantly at first, stepping over bodies and equipment that Kaelthyr eventually addressed. “The bodies will be rent asunder. You will be spared… suspicion. You may take, loot, and plunder at your discretion.”
“A generous offer.” Thalmin acknowledged with a respectful nod.
“One which we greatly appreciate.” I quickly added, reaffirming Thalmin’s gratitude.
Kaelthyr immediately regarded our synergy with a puff of charred soot, shooting us a side eye in the process.
“This union in disunity… amidst non-draconic beings… will never cease to be as amusing as it is enlightening.” The dragon chimed in out of nowhere, hinting at something completely out of left field.
However, whilst Thalmin’s features shifted towards a cautious sort of wariness at the cryptic message, a lightbulb moment slowly, but surely, dawned on me.
“Forgive me if I’m reaching here,” I began, garnering the dragon’s gaze, and the unnatural head movements of the puppetted shatorealmer. “But I take it you’re talking about the functional disconnect between telepathy and speech?”
The dragon craned its head towards me momentarily, if only to smile and nod. “Well extrapolated, young Matriarch… well-observed indeed…”
“Given elven proclivities, I’d assume they took your lack of speech as a sign of non-sapiency.” I continued.
“A piece, however small, of a grander attempt to rewrite axioms in the minds of the weak, yes.” The dragon confirmed, but not without dishing out a not-so-subtle jab.
“I must admit that I was probably drinking from the Jovian communal fountain on this one.” I managed out apologetically. “And for that, I must apologize, for not doing my due diligence and assuming that you were—”
“A beast?”
“Yes.”
“Offense is only taken when a sapient mind refuses to acknowledge evidence challenging its maxims.” Kaelthyr spoke… in a surprisingly articulate way, garnering a nod of respect even from me.
“I appreciate the open-mindedness and willingness for dialogue, Kaelthyr.” I responded, garnering a side glance and a snort from the dragon.
“Hmmph. You speak… in a manner quite rehearsed. Your words feel… not entirely of your own make. And your mannerisms… they beckon the inexperience and naivety of years far too short of a Matriarch’s. Indeed, by your own admission, you refute such a title.”
A second… non-Nexian-aligned entity that immediately caught wind of the translation suite… I thought to myself, not necessarily sure if it was mere coincidence, but certain enough that this at least hinted to the dragon’s wit and analytical capacity.
“Correct. To address the former, within my suit exists a complex system, one which has been carefully designed through a painstaking dissection of High Nexian, allowing me to speak in my native tongue, through which this system outputs a functionally perfect equivalent in High Nexian. And to address the latter, yes. I don’t claim to be a matriarch. I’m merely a representative and a member of my people’s armed forces.”
The dragon’s eyes once more narrowed at my explanations, its head craning up to the dark ceiling of the cave’s grand ‘foyer,’ as if once again in deep contemplative thought.
“And this is done without magic?”
“Correct.” I acknowledged vaguely, allowing the dragon time to process—
“How?”
“A complex system of mathematics — hosted, processed, and calculated instantly by silica-based substrates of immensely complicated design.”
Kaelthyr stopped so abruptly that the hovering shatorealmer stumbled in her wake. She lowered her head, whipping her muzzle towards me, until her eyes once more locked with my own by mere inches from my helmet. Those sharp-slitted pupils conveyed both a burning mix of shock and disbelief.
“Stop.” The shatorealmer’s voice cracked at Kaelthyr’s behest. “Do you understand what you are claiming? The principles which you are describing?”
“I—”
“What you have… surmised is an art form. A calling exclusive to us.”
Kaelthyr’s eyes glowed a deep purple once more, paired with an assured certainty.
“You cannot be ‘human,’ or mere flesh and blood. Not with such a craft. You… your kind must be a lost line. A daughter amidst daughters. Part of the crystalline legacy… masquerading in flesh.”
Comments
BichoBitch
FUUUUUUUUUUUCK
BrickRedDonut
Thanks for the chapter!
Brachy LP
First!
