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[The Twining] 2. The Sixth Sense
🕑 Added 2023-12-16 22:06:42 +0000 UTCIsen curled up in the gap between two boulders, exhausted. He was no stranger to sleeping on hard earth, but the rock was hard even for his standards. His body didn’t care, falling asleep in seconds.
He awoke in the same darkness.
That would have been a beautiful dream, he thought, sighing. Instead, it’s my cruel reality. The flood of monsters had stopped while he’d been asleep. He could no longer hear the thunder.
And in this treacherous place, he was as good as blind.
So much for a light aspected abyss, he thought ruefully, squinting. He thought he could maybe see the vaguest outline of his hand when he waved it in front of his face. Maybe.
He reached for his waterskin and uncapped it before taking a deep gulp, thankful that the cap was secured to the skin by a thong of leather. Finding a lost cap in the darkness would be a nightmare.
He stopped himself before he drank too much of what remained.
His escape into the depths was a blur. With no other options, he’d given himself entirely over to the sixth sense, following its smallest urgings to move. He’d felt like a drunk, stumbling over himself, crashing into the crush of monster bodies that surged without end...
But he’d avoided fatal blows.
His sixth sense had eventually led him away from the hordes of monsters, allowing him to rest and recuperate. Now, he needed it to bring him to water. He knew that wasn’t how it worked, however. It would only lead him toward opportunity or danger… or more likely, both.
Before setting out from his shelter, Isen fumbled for his pack and fished out a tub of poultice and a roll of bandages. He nearly nicked himself with his knife as he cut a portion of the fabric off, slathered poultice, and bound a rather nasty gash on his left arm. He’d dressed the wound on his neck before passing out.
After eating a piece of smoked jerky, he packed everything up as silently as possible, then slunk out of his shelter.
He’d never had any issues moving in the dark before, but he’d always had some light source—usually the moon or braziers. Until his mad escape through the stampede, he’d never realized how much his balance relied on his perception. It was like he had to relearn how to walk.
He kept close to the wall, his fingers lightly brushing its surface. He contemplated leaving marks to help him find his way back, but the idea felt ridiculous. The shelter he’d found wasn’t worth returning to.
The only way to go was forward.
As he walked, it grew harder to ignore the noises of unseen beasts. They echoed faintly, making it hard to discern where they came from. Once more, he wondered if he’d have the courage to continue if he could see the surroundings—and the dangers—clearly.
After what felt like an hour of sneaking, he smashed into a wall. He reeled and pressed his lips together to smother a cry. He clutched at his smarting nose and his eyes watered, heart hammering as he listened for the approach of monsters.
He leaned back on the wall as he took a few breaths, steadying himself.
That was when the wall moved. It shifted under his fingers, smooth as polished stone.
Scales.
He shuddered and held his mouth, trying to suppress any sounds of breathing. The only thing that would save him in this place was going unnoticed.
He didn’t consider himself useless in a fight, but these were monsters with fangs and claws, and there were countless numbers of them, based on how many had rushed up when the Twining tore open. Even if he could fight one off, more would come, attracted by the commotion.
The first fight he got into would be his last.
But how was he supposed to hide in a world full of darkness? He knew most animals had an excellent sense of smell. The ones that had attacked him were dog-like, and he wouldn’t be surprised if in a lightless place like this they hunted by scent. He was honestly surprised nothing had pounced on him already.
He nearly lost his balance when a thud shook the surroundings. He shuddered when another impacted the floor, this one closer to him.
Something snaked behind him, a warm, scaled appendage as thick as his leg, arching beneath his chin, forcing him to look up.
For the first time since descending, he saw light. Twin golden orbs, each the size of a dinner plate, stared down at him from merely feet away. The illumination was too pale to illuminate anything else, leaving the beast’s full size an enigma.
He had the sense that this wasn’t the same scaled monster as before. Based on the size of the eyes and the contours of its tail, it wasn’t as titanic in its proportions. But that didn’t make it any less horrifying.
It was enormous and could kill him with impunity.
So why didn’t it?
“A human boy,” a voice boomed, seeming to come from everywhere at once, like a resounding echo. “Down in the depths. Not yet hopeless, even in this place. Why have you come?”
He blinked. “I was sucked in when the lighting tore open the Twining. The… tribulation.”
“That is an answer,” the voice conceded, “but not the answer. Why have you come?”
“For… an opportunity,” he said softly.
“Opportunity is everywhere, if you only know where to look,” the beast said. “You are blind in this place.”
“Blind, but not senseless,” Isen retorted. “I can find my way. But I also know my limits. It’s only a matter of time until I run into something I can’t hide from”—he grimaced—“and meet my end.”
“How do you find your way?” It sounded curious.
He didn’t see the harm in humoring it. “I always know the way to go.”
The beast blinked. Its tail tip caressed his cheek. He shivered. “Alright. Child—climb onto my back.”
He stared at the monster as it turned around and lowered itself to the ground with a heavy groan of the earth, its tail withdrawing from his head, allowing him to move freely. Its head turned back, staring at him.
With shaking, outstretched hands, he stepped forward until he felt the beast’s flank. A minute later, he managed to scramble up. The scales were smooth, but the gaps between them allowed for easy purchase.
He nearly fell off when the beast stood. He flattened himself to its back, digging his feet into the scales as it strode forward.
The scaled beast was silent as it navigated the darkness. As the minutes ticked on, Isen acclimated to the rhythm of the monster’s gait. It wasn’t comfortable, but he figured he could last for hours without needing a break.
At some point, he must have half dozed off, as the beast’s echoing voice woke him from an absent daydream. “We’re here.”
His eyes cracked open, then widened. The room was awash with light. A lake of liquid gold shone in the darkness. Many monsters—little more than shadowy silhouettes—lapped at its shores with long, serpentine tongues. Some even bathed in it.
The massive beast sat down. Isen dangled from its shoulders, but oriented himself and fell onto its tail, then fell to the ground in a somersault, bleeding his momentum. With the lake’s illumination, his coordination was much improved.
“Drink.”
Isen froze, startled, but moved toward the lake. The sixth sense was screaming at him. When he reached the shore, he looked back over his shoulder, taking in the true form of the beast for the first time.
It reminded him of an albino fox or wolf but covered in scales. It even had pointed ears. Its tail was long and sinuous, like a snake’s, and its snout housed wicked teeth that curved over its lips. The scales around its face were extremely fine, almost invisible, making the black scar that crossed from its left eyebrow to the right edge of its mouth all the more distinctive.
It didn’t look like a friendly monster, but Isen had never seen any monsters before today. Yesterday? He didn’t know how long he’d slept after collapsing. He didn’t know much about them. He hadn’t known that they could speak.
But as he took in the beast’s visage, he sensed opportunity overwhelming… and a subtle, but distinct, undercurrent of dire danger. For now, the beast wouldn’t hurt him, but that didn’t mean it was his friend.
It decided to take me here when I told it about always knowing the way, he thought, narrowing his eyes. Maybe it knows more about the sixth sense than I do. Maybe it needs to find something.
Isen returned his focus to the glowing water. He knelt down and cupped his hands. As he did so, a nearby monster—this one a hairy, batlike creature with massive fangs—snarled.
His vulpine escort snorted and flicked its tail like a whip, smacking the monster on the ribs. It hissed and jumped back, giving up on its hunt.
Isen pulled the water up, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on the sixth sense. When he opened them a moment later, he brought the water to his lips and drank deeply. The golden water was flavorless, like water in its purest form, without any contaminants or minerals. It was warm, like tea, though not so hot as to scald. He felt it flow down his throat and into his stomach. The warmth radiated out, flowing through his vessels. He felt energized, his body thrumming with excitation.
The sensation was wonderful. He cupped another handful of water and drank, then another. He considered jumping into the water and drinking from it directly, but his gut screamed a warning. If he left the shore, he’d die.
It was a wakeup call. He drank slower, paying more attention to how the liquid energized his limbs. He could sense that there was an opportunity to be gained here and that he was largely squandering it. He didn’t know what the golden liquid was, but it must be special. On the surface, it was likely priceless.
He closed his eyes again as he held a mouthful in his cheeks. Slowly, he let it trickle down his throat.
That’s wrong, he realized, frowning. He’d already let enough of the liquid flow down into his stomach. That had to be the problem.
My biggest weakness in this place is my inability to see. If this liquid can energize my body, what would happen if it went to my eyes? He considered the radiant eyes of the giant scaled beast. Maybe it had used the water to turn its eyes golden, allowing it to see in this dark place.
He didn’t know how to force the water to go up. He tried snorting it, forcing it into his nasal cavity. It made his sinuses buzz uncomfortably, but his gut told him he was still missing something.
Finally, he decided to do the obvious thing. He wet his hand, then drizzled droplets over his left eye.
The warm liquid was soothing, though it made the vision in that eye fuzzy. He would have stopped if not for the sixth sense urging him onward. He drizzled more liquid, then moved on to submerging the eye in a shallow pool of liquid in his hands.
He ignored the fear that clawed at his mind—fear that he was doing something irreparable and dangerous. It’s just one of them, he told himself, though it was a small comfort. Worst case, I’ll still have one good eye.
The thought made him swallow back tears.
Finally, he decided that he’d reached his limit. His left eye was dominated by gold—he couldn’t see anything else out of it. His body felt amazing, like he’d had the best sleep of his life and a feast.
The vulpine monster didn’t say anything as Isen approached it, merely lowering itself down so he could more easily climb on.
They were both silent as it traversed the empty darkness back the way they’d come.
Comments
Erebus
Thanks for the chapter :)
Morcant
'Worst case, I’ll still have one good eye.' but what about your poor NOSE Isen :(
