Faust 1.3
FruitSyrup
Sweeter than honey~
- Location
- United Kingom
- Pronouns
- She/Her
CW: This chapter has some mild body horror and gore in it, if you're queasy.
By the time I woke up, it was already light outside. I groggily rubbed the sleep from my eyes with a knuckle and blinked blearily, needing a short while to adjust to the difference. As I sat up to stretch off the minor stiffness in my limbs and neck, I was pleasantly surprised to see my many bruises from yesterday had already faded to a purplish-yellow, and the dull ache had subsided with it. Not good as new, but given a couple more days I'd be none the worse for wear; far faster than the couple of weeks I'd expected it to take.
Nakhash chimed in at the observation to mention that the faster healing was a knock-on effect from both my new body and the latent psychic power I possessed. I'd been subconsciously tapping my new focus in my sleep to help mend my injuries, on top of my (un)naturally strong constitution chipping away at the damage.
"Keep in mind that it won't heal anything that your body couldn't already," it had cautioned. Cuts and bruises would fade, but if I lost a limb I'd have to put effort into getting it back.
The fire behind me had died somewhere in the night, only cold ashes and burnt husks left in the firebox. I was still reasonably warm under my blankets, though the air in the basement had turned a little chilly. The oil lantern was still going steady; the reservoir had looked full when I'd checked it last night, and it wasn't small either, so I knew it'd go for quite a while longer before I'd need to use a new one.
I extinguished the lamp as part of my improvised morning routine, throwing my clothes on and grabbing another fruit for my breakfast. I'd thought I might get a little tired of them after eating nothing else for 3 meals in a row, but their flavour was still a treat for my tongue and the texture was so satisfying, like biting into a crunchy apple. At this point I could only really assume there was something magical about them, since they quenched my thirst too despite their sweetness.
And the fact I was still reasonably sure the tree had waved at me but that was another thing.
As I was about to leave, I caught sight of the poker hung up next to the hearth. It wasn't anything fancy, just a rung topping a long rod with a hooked spike at the other end. The metal twisted into a spiral near the ring, but that was the only ornamentation it sported. It was pretty crude, but I couldn't help but recall Nakhash's comment from yesterday about improving the housing from a broken branch; the encounter with the ghosts had unsettled me enough that I didn't want to go back out without something I could fend them off with.
I lifted the poker off its hook and tested its weight, feeling what little heft it had in my hand. It felt sturdy enough to take a hit, at least, so I gently poked the snake for its attention.
"What do you think of this? It's not a spear or a blade or anything, but it's pointy and tough."
I felt it unfurl in the back of my mind, appraising the mass of black iron with a critical eye as it looked through my own. I turned it over in my hand, spinning it on its axis to demonstrate the lightness, and I felt its reluctant approval brush against my consciousness.
"It's… acceptable, I would say? We won't be able to forge anything worthy of note from it, but perhaps with the quartz it could be a decent substitute for a true force stave. The branch will rapidly become unsuitable for channelling even a small amount of psychic power anyway, if your progress continues apace: it's already struggling to contain my essence as it is."
I nodded, snatching the crystal focus from where I'd left it on the table last night and depositing it, the poker, and my makeshift staff on the workbench. It was almost funny, how basic each component was, knowing I was going to try moulding them into something more suitable. Even the Imperium's own sanctioned psykers used stuff better than this, like arcane circuitry, alloys so far beyond my understanding they might as well be magic, and psychoactive crystals mined from the crusts of entire planets infused with the touch of the Warp.
And here I was using a branch, some quartz, and a pointy iron rod.
"Acolytes of Chaos make do with what they have, even if it is as crude as shards of bone from the once-possessed bound with barbed wire to a fragment of driftwood," Nakhash pointed out, "as you must at this time."
"Guess they get the short end of the stick, huh?" I mused as I shuffled the items around, ensuring they were touching each other.
"Awful pun. Truly terrible."
"You're mad you didn't think of it first," I shot back, "so, what now?"
The daemon breathed a weary sigh, "you will provide the power for me to reshape the vessel, as you don't yet possess the skills to make these changes yourself. I will need your permission to borrow an arm of yours for a short while as I do so."
"How long's a short while?" I asked, rolling the quartz back and forth with a finger idly.
"Five minutes, give or take."
"Sure, that works," I shrugged, bringing up my left arm to rest my hand on the branch.
I felt the daemon stretch inside my head at my verbal assent, unfurling into a sinuous length. Its presence rippled down through my spine like crude oil, taking a detour through my chest and the heart sealed within it to flow into my arm. Its passage left the limb feeling numb and distant, like it wasn't really my own anymore, more of an appendage that happened to be attached to me. Even trying to flex my fingers was like pushing through treacle, merely resulting in them twitching slightly.
"Don't interrupt. Focus on your part of this, and I will do mine."
I nodded and let my eyes close. Pulling on the Warp was starting to come a little easier now, with the few attempts I'd made already dictating a simple mental drill I could stick to: envision the church, crack open the door, and exert my control over the power that filtered through. The quartz itself, even if it was supposedly a poor focus, helped me wrangle the strands of energy into something I could use, filtering out the Warp's whispers and letting me direct it without any distractions. With it, I could weave the threads together like they were twine, twisting them around into concentrated psychic power and passing them on to Nakhash.
The prismatic filaments flowed down through my arm, encircling the snake coiled around it. For once, it wasn't looking at me, its laser-focus directed at my hand. Dimly, I could sense the psychic energy condensing in my limb, following the path of the serpent's presence, and the little mystical sparks jumping the gaps between my fingers.
"A word of warning: this will be unpleasant, so I do implore you to look away," it hissed, and before I had the chance to ask it what that meant, my entire arm ripped itself in half down the middle all the way to my elbow.
I choked on a scream as I recoiled away from it. The pain surprisingly mild for my limb having been rent at the fucking seams, but that was almost worse compared to what I got. Instead of a shower of gore, I was treated to the sight of strings of scintillating black flesh bridging the gap between each half and throbbing as it engulfed the bone. Vicious, serrated spines pushed through my skin as it spread, turning my whole arm into a hulking, misshapen clump of spikes and teeth and undulating flesh in the shape of a daemonic claw.
To my horror, it didn't stop there, my fingers making a stomach-turning crunching noise as they buckled and contorted, reshaping into tendrils that grew into thick ropes of quivering muscle. My right hand's fingernails, thankfully still intact and untouched by the steady transformation, carved trenches into the workbench's top as I doubled over. I had to bury my face into the crook of my elbow and bite down on my shirt to stifle my instinct to empty my breakfast on the floor.
"You could have fucking warned me!" I snarled through a mouthful of fabric, desperately trying to block out the noises my arm was making.
"I did," Nakhash replied, its tone detached and attention evidently elsewhere.
"You didn't tell me you were going to turn my arm into— whatever the fuck that is, Jesus Christ!"
It ignored my indignant cry, the tentacles enveloping the items I'd left on the desk and pulling them into the quivering mass with a sound I knew wasn't going to leave me alone for the next week. I could feel it fucking squelch around them as it moulded them, twisting and crushing the wood and metal inside me. Arcs of electricity snapped and crackled around the pulsating flesh, filling the air with the stench of burning wires.
"God, just— get it fucking over with," I groaned, tucking my ear against my wrist. Focusing on just keeping the flow of psychic power going was a welcome distraction, the noise and physical sensations blotted out in the sanctity of my own mind.
I counted the seconds to try and pass the time, anything to keep me from risking another peek at what was happening. I was somewhere in the two hundreds when Nakhash twitched and swivelled to face me again.
"It's done. Quite a good result, better than I'd anticipated given the base materials."
"Great. Wonderful. Thanks for doing this after my fucking breakfast," I snarled, levelling a murderous glare that it seemed to find more amusing than anything, "now give me my fucking arm back."
"As the lady wishes," it chuckled, bowing its head, and I dismissed the mindscape with a scowl.
I kept my head tucked into my elbow at first, working up the courage to take a look at the damage. After a few seconds, I turned to the side, peering at my left arm with a single eye, and collapsed onto my knees with a sigh of relief. There was no black writhing flesh, no spokes of bone, just regular human skin. The limb was back in one piece, like nothing had even happened, my fingers flexing on command smoothly and my sense of touch back to normal.
I got back to my feet a little shakily, running my hand over the arm just to make sure I hadn't missed anything obvious, but thankfully, there wasn't so much as a blemish I could find once I'd checked it thoroughly. Now that I didn't have to worry about my arm being a fucking eldritch nightmare though, I could turn my attention to the result of that horror show left on the workbench.
It made me blink at first, it was so innocuous. I'd expected something more… ornate, than the staff sat on the benchtop. It was more of a mace than a staff, the four long curved flanges at the top speaking to a very practical kind of brutality, very deliberately built for ending a fight cleanly rather than inflicting suffering. Sat in the middle of them, barely half the length, was the quartz crystal, still with its faint inner glow, though I could see little wisps of psychic energy peeling away from it to enshroud the blades.
Just underneath the head of the mace-staff, here was a bulbous circle of metal that joined at the middle like a shutter. It was fairly easy to extrapolate that there was something underneath it, but right now it was tightly closed, so I let my eyes drift down to the shaft. It was the most unassuming part of the weapon; I couldn't really call it anything but with how the tip was very obviously designed with violent intentions. It was just the ash-grey branch smoothened and moulded into a straighter shape, and the remains of the poker snaking—quite literally snaking, since I could see the scale pattern on the metal as it spiralled around the haft—all the way up to the head, with a very understated spike at the other end.
It was direct, modest, and utilitarian. It wasn't trying to ape any of the ostentatious craftsmanship found in the examples of daemon weapons or even force weapons I'd seen in some books I'd owned. It contented itself with an elegance born from austerity, conveying its purpose clearly. Even the chaos runes I could see were etched into the materials with a very straightforward typography. It existed to make a statement, and that statement was "fuck off".
I genuinely liked it. It was effectively a reinforced walking stick with a business end for confrontation. It didn't have to be anything more.
The magic made itself apparent when I picked it up, however. It felt feather-light in my hand, an extension of my own body instead of a tool I had in my grip. I even gave it a test swing, and I couldn't help but smile at the way it cut through the air with a deftness that belied its true weight.
"I see you've taken to it well."
Aaand there went the moment.
"Never fucking do that again, understand?" I snapped, tucking the staff under my arm as I moved to slip my sandals on, fastening the straps with a little more force than was necessary.
"You gave me permission," it answered cooly.
"I gave you an inch of leash and you ran a mile down Lovecraft lane with it. Last fucking time I trust you with anything like that."
"Watch your tongue, girl," it was the daemon's turn to growl, and I felt it ripple inside my skull, "I am not some pet you can unchain at will. We are partners in this relationship, and you would do well to remember that. Am I clear?"
I grit my teeth to suppress the lance of pain that blossomed behind my eyes.
"Crystal," I ground out, gripping the side of my head with my free hand.
The pressure dropped away, taking the nascent headache with it.
"Outstanding," it said, snapping right back to joviality. The contrast was unnerving.
"Now, what does my scion wish to do today, I wonder?"
I hefted my new staff, gathering the remaining fruits off the reading table and stuffing them into my pockets, and looked through the window at the dreary, but dry street outside. I couldn't see any signs of the ghosts, but I tightened my hold on the weapon regardless. I wasn't planning on coming back here if I could avoid it, not now they knew I was here.
"Find how to get the hell out of this place."
I peered through the crack made by lifting the trapdoor a fraction, scanning the remains of the dining room. I couldn't see anything threatening, so satisfied with my safety, I threw it the rest of the way open and climbed the remaining few steps back up to ground level. The rain had stopped somewhere in the night, though it had left a lot of signs of its passing in the form of dozens of puddles scattered around and the smell of damp permeating the air.
The empty marketplace was devoid of any signs of movement, living or undead. I wasted no time in exiting through the front door and descending the short flight of stairs back to street level. The plan was simple enough: just follow the lake's edge around to the other side to the gap in the mountain cauldron walls and take my leave. The lake waterfront had risen up to a couple of rows further down from where I was, so I quickly navigated back through the side streets to the main avenue I'd entered by and backtracked to where the urban sprawl started to taper off.
The high ground gave me an ample view of the land's lay. The counter-clockwise route was a no-go, as the ground there dipped as it got closer to the cliffs and had become part of the lake, so I'd have to swim across at some point, and the open fields there might as well be marshes. I had no intentions of getting wet again, and I remembered that scene from The Two Towers well enough to understand that getting into water deeper than my knees in a city full of spectres would be patently fucking stupid.
Clockwise was more promising, as the city limits ran right up against the cliffside and hadn't yet been submerged, so that was the direction I set off in. Ideally I'd have been able to dodge walking through any more streets—I'd backed away from the buildings specifically to put distance between me and any wandering dead—but I was a bit more confident now that I had something that would let me fight them if I had to. The only downside was that I had to walk through a bunch of waterlogged fields in sandals to get there.
I'd lived in England a good chunk of my life so I knew exactly what I was in for. I could very easily have just gone through the city and avoided this mess, but by this point I'd already committed and, in true British fashion, I bitched about it every step of the way. I had to constantly pull my feet out of the muck where they'd sunk up to the ankles and kept almost losing my bloody shoes doing so. That continued up until one got lost in the grass and I had to spend five minutes looking for it and then digging it out of the dirt, at which point I threw in the towel and just carried the things in my spare hand and used my staff to wade through the mud.
"This seems remarkably inefficient," Nakhash mused as I got my foot twisted in another clump of reeds.
"What part of the whole human fear response thing are you not understanding? You cannot be having this much trouble getting it," I retorted, sweeping the blades of the mace head through the stalks to cut myself loose.
"That staff isn't just for show. You have more than enough psychic power to defend yourself."
"I'm not fucking going near them if I can help it."
I vaulted a crumbling dry stack wall and yelped as my feet landed on the points of a few rocks and pebbles sticking up out of the dirt path on the other side. They didn't break skin, but my soles were delicate and hadn't had the time to toughen up yet. This was, at least, the last stretch of dirt I'd have to walk on before getting to the built-up areas again, so I slipped my sandals back on and marched onwards.
"Oh, do grow a spine. There are worse things you will have to contend with in the future as your powers improve. Do you think the Warp is truly devoid of anything that can seriously threaten you?"
"If this is supposed to encourage me to use my psyker bullshit you are failing miserably."
"Once you have accustomed yourself to that which lurks within the Empyrean, the material realm's horrors will feel very dull in comparison. Learning not to flinch in the face of the grotesque is a valuable skill."
I pulled a vague look of disgust, "that's— that's worse. You get why that's worse, right? No. Try again."
The daemon sighed and took a more lecturing tone, "there are only two kinds of mortals, girl. The quick and the dead. Fear can be a very beneficial emotion, spurring fast action and summoning reserves of strength you didn't know you had, but only if you master it. The difference between life and death is often the split second between seeing it coming and acting. You must learn to let it pass over you and through you, to face it and control it, or risk total annihilation."
I felt its gaze boring through the meat of my brain, slitted eyes staring directly into my soul, "the second most dangerous kind of psyker is the one backed into a corner. The first is the one that bares fangs born from their fear as a trapped rat as a weapon against their enemies. You know little of this world and what things within it pose a threat to you. It is best you learn quickly, so that your second chance here is not cut short."
It took me a couple of moments to realise that I'd come to a stop just before the dirt path I'd been following turned to cobbles, from a country road to a city street. I hadn't been paying much attention, somewhat absorbed in the conversation, but my subconscious evidently had and put the brakes on. Just looking at the decaying ruins that couldn't be more than half a mile ahead made my legs grow heavy and sent a slight chill crawling over my back.
I chewed the inside of my cheek while I turned the words over in my head. I wasn't sure if the paraphrased Dune reference was intentional on its behalf, but given its general attitude so far it was more likely than not. Regardless, I still had to go forward. The ghosts might be waiting for me, they might not, but the only means of escape meant risking meeting them again, and I couldn't just stand here forever stuck thinking about the one that had almost made it in.
The only way forward was through, and the sooner I was out of here, the better.
Without giving it an answer, I lifted my staff and continued onward, the spike clicking against the stone and a very faint static hiss emanating from between the mace spurs. I could feel Nakhash's own wordless satisfaction at my decision as it unfurled, its power flickering through the staff and turning the static into a soft crackling as a few sporadic sparks jumped between the blades. It was an unspoken mutual agreement, and one that helped quell my nerves as I approached the city.
Though, there was still one minor problem.
The mud I'd traipsed through to get here had dried on my goddamn feet and was starting to chafe. Ordinarily this wouldn't bother me, since I had walked barefooted on rock exposed to the baking heat of the desert sun before, but there was the aforementioned problem of the skin being very new and at the mercy of nature's torments. Hence, I was in a lot more discomfort than usual.
After maybe half an hour of doubling back on dead ends and navigating countless narrow alleys, I wanted to scream. I'd even tried taking the sandals off again but the cobbles were almost as hellish to walk on, and against my better judgement I decided to cut short the frustration by diverting towards the lake. I wagered that it'd be less painful to just get myself cleaned up and then continue on my way.
A good deal more getting lost and cursing whichever architect had planned this district later, I stepped out from underneath an archway linking two rows of houses. The lake was only a dozen paces away, which was more than close enough for me to see it was eerily still, not a single ripple disturbing the surface. Whatever ruins had existed there had disintegrated long ago, leaving just small piles of rubble poking out of the water, but around fifty metres out they tapered off to leave a flat expanse of murky grey.
Immediately I considered just turning around and leaving. It was the sensible thing to do: the entire scene looked like it had jumped right out of a dark fantasy novel and I wanted absolutely none of it. The blisters on my feet protested at the thought, however, so I reluctantly approached the waterline, keeping the business end of my staff tilted towards it just in case a platoon of spectres decided to charge me out of the shallows.
As I dipped my toes in without incident, I took a deep breath to calm myself. I placed my staff on the ground within arm's reach while I unfastened my shoes and busied myself with washing the dirt off my skin. Despite the ominous appearance, the water was cool and refreshing and a blissful relief to the fucking rashes I'd been developing. If I'd been less wary of the place and not in a hurry to leave I might have even tried swimming; it was quiet and calm, even though the atmosphere left something to be desired.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long. The first sign something was off was the feeling I was being watched again, the hair on my neck standing on end. I quickly half-dipped into my mind space to check that I hadn't let anything in by accident, but the door remained closed and fastened.
"Your sense for the Immaterium's touch is getting sharper. Good," Nakhash murmured. I could feel it observing me and my surroundings, like a teacher watching their student.
Ultimately, that wasn't far off the mark. I'd been floundering about like an idiot for the most part while it explained things at length and offered me a surprising amount of honest wisdom, which was much more than I expected from a daemon I'd forced into a stick.
I slowly reached out, my fingers curling around my staff, and turned my head just enough to look back over my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just about catch some faint humanlike figures peering at me from the shadows beneath the overhangs behind the archway and through darkened windows on the upper floors. They were keeping their distance, shuffling around to get a better look as they whispered amongst themselves.
"If you're expecting a striptease then you're going to be disappointed," I shouted, raising my voice to project it across the gap between me and the houses.
A good chunk of them flinched at the address, seemingly more surprised I'd noticed them than embarrassed at spying on me. A couple even turned and fled, vanishing into mist as they retreated. It was a far cry from the group that had attacked me yesterday, though Nakhash's words from the evening stood out starkly in my head: they were scared. Evidently, the experience of the one that had decided to take a step into my inner sanctum had been spread around.
I wouldn't be too enthused about getting close to the woman with a daemon serpent in her head, either.
I wasn't willing to entertain their presence, though, so I stood up and turned to face them fully, cracking the spike at the base of my staff against the stone. I let a little flicker of my power flow through it, a shower of cyan and violet sparks flying where it struck.
"I'll only say this once. Get lost," I warned, taking a step forward.
Most of them disappeared at the display, following their friends and dissipating into a cloud of vapour. I could count on one hand the ones that hadn't been frightened off, who seemed even more curious after watching me pull on the Warp. I drew a little more from it, and allowed flickers of phantom electricity to play down the length of my right arm and my staff, levelling the bladed tip in their direction.
"I know you can understand me. Last warning. I don't want to see you again, got it?" I said, letting the charge build until the mace was fizzing and spitting bolts, some of them grounding themselves while others just arced away into the air.
Something tugged at my trousers, and I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin, leaping a good few feet away and holding my staff out to ward off whatever had gotten close to me.
The child I'd seen from before was looking at me. They fidgeted nervously, leaning away from the cloud of static crackling from my staff. I couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl given how androgynous they looked, though I wasn't sure if the ghosts even understood the concept of nonbinary anyway.
I wasn't about to blast a kid, living or dead, with eldritch lightning, especially since I knew that psyker fuckery could wound the soul as easily as it could flesh. I didn't have the stomach for it, and God willing I never would. Instead, I opened my mouth to make another threat, but before I could, the child gave me a pleading look and spoke.
"You aren't safe here. You should go."
I tilted my head at the comment, letting my staff drop a fraction, "I… yeah, I figured. What do you think I'm trying to do here?"
The child shook their head, their nervousness rapidly shifting to panic as they looked out across the lake, "it knows you're here. Please, leave!"
My brow furrowed, and I was about to ask what the fuck they were on about, before Nakhash snapped to attention in the back of my head. It was the only warning I got, and the only one I needed. Another ghost, an adult, blinked into existence for a split second, grabbing the child by the wrist before the two of them dispersed as I sprang to one side with every ounce of strength I could muster.
The water's surface exploded, a huge mass larger than an entire fucking truck attache to a sinuous neck launching itself out of the lake directly towards where I'd been standing a fraction of a second ago. It missed me by an arm's breadth, slamming straight into the house behind me and utterly demolishing it with the sheer speed it moved at.
I managed to turn the fall into a roll and scrabble back to my feet, just in time for an image to imprint itself onto my forebrain. It was a saurian snout, jaws filled with razor teeth wide open and three slitted eyes gleaming with malice, caught in time as it surged towards me, its twin to my left in the middle of wrenching itself out of the wreckage of the house that had fallen on it. Its upper body had lifted out of the water, exposing a finned spine and the two massive pillars of muscle and scales tipped with fearsome claws that were its forelegs. I froze, knocked off balance by the vision and the chaos simultaneously.
"The quick and the dead, girl, MOVE!"
The basilisk's snarl jolted me out of my stupor, but my legs moved before I'd even had the time to think, spinning me on my heel and bolting towards the relative safety of the archway. A bare moment after I'd started moving, I heard something else lunge out of the water behind me and collide with the stonework. I didn't dare turn around, instead continuing to sprint up the alley and away from the fucking two-headed dragon that had nearly turned me into paste.
Somehow, I recognised the creature. Old memories of nights spent pouring over bestiaries while writing scenes and engineering fights for games that happened years ago let me recall the surface details. It wasn't a true dragon, more of a primaeval cousin to them. It was wingless, but not flightless, a beast that hunted from the depths as skillfully as it could from the skies. It possessed twin heads filled with malice and cunning and a hatred of everything not themselves, a breath as incendiary as it was toxic, and fangs that held venom so potent that without magical protection it could slay those with even the strongest constitutions. The only thing that didn't match up were the third eyes on each head's brow, but I didn't have the time to dwell on them.
A tarn linnorm. A terrifying beast that even a full group of experienced sellswords would be hard-pressed to survive an encounter with.
And I, a completely novice psyker whose training with weapons was sourced from theatrical re-enactments, had made the very possibly fatal error of stepping into its hunting grounds.
I took a sharp right at the T shaped junction the alley emerged into before ducking into another narrow passage tucked between two buildings just across the street. I heard my heart thundering in my chest, a triple valved thump that wasn't at all human, and suddenly realised that at some point in my flight my flesh had opened up again to expose the relic.
I didn't have the time to think about closing it, though, as another image smacked into me like a freight train: the shadow of a claw as it descended on me. I didn't understand what was happening, where these visions were coming from. I wasn't trying to call on them, but they were being yanked to the forefront of my mind anyway.
"Subconscious reactive precognition, you're divining the strands of future fates, so listen to them and act!"
I backpedalled furiously, just before the sharpened points hammered the street in front of me with enough force they left a deep imprint of the linnorm's claw embedded into the ground. The leg dragged itself back towards me, ripping up the cobbles in a spray of dirt and stone, and there was barely enough time for me to throw myself through an open doorway to dodge it.
The room I ended up in was filled with glass cases arranged on a dozen tabletops, displaying a menagerie of trinkets and ornaments. It was a shop that might once have been bustling with customers, but I hadn't the luxury of taking a proper look, throwing aside one of the tables to run into the next room, vaulting through the window and onto the street. The glass cut my skin as it shattered, but I didn't care about the surface-level wounds they gave me, my lungs heaving as I scrambled upright and continued my escape.
Moments later, the building was engulfed in a stream of acid-green flames. The stonework bubbled and hissed as it melted, the wooden timbers exploding from the heat, and I was forced to hold my breath to avoid inhaling the acrid fumes that poured off the sludge.
The linnorm was ruthless in its pursuit, ripping apart buildings and tearing up streets as it relentlessly followed me through the maze of the urban sprawl. And, much to my terror, it was easily keeping up with me, sometimes even anticipating which direction I would take and ensuring one of its heads or a limb was there to cut me off and force me to double back. The only thing that saved me over and over again was the flashcard medley of moments before my imminent death being shown one after the other with almost no break between them. They gave me just enough time to react, evading its movements at the last second to narrowly avoid being crushed, incinerated, or devoured, but the gap was narrowing each time I got away.
I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't be fast enough. It was getting closer with each attempt and I was already pushing myself to as hard as I could, heedless of the myriad of scrapes and bruises and lacerations steadily accumulating as I ran for my fucking life.
"You're a psyker, the limits of your flesh are an illusion! Focus and push past them!"
I didn't have the breath to yell at it, my lungs burning from the exertion of working so hard for this long. Not that I had to, as Nakhash could simply listen to my thoughts, and I had more than enough of those.
"I'M FUCKING BUSY!"
My luck finally ran out when the teeth of the linnorm snapped shut a handspan behind me, and I stumbled over a stone lifted just a centimetre above the rest. I hit the ground hard, my shoulder panging at the bone-jarring impact, though I was able to shield my head from a potentially lethal meeting with the cobbles by using my forearm to cushion the fall.
I looked back desperately, hoping I hadn't made my last mistake, and caught sight of the linnorm's heads hovering just above the roofs on either side of the alley I'd been sprinting along. One of them reared back a fraction, and I felt the world slow to a crawl.
I was dead. There was no running away from this. I didn't have the leverage, I didn't have the time. All I could do was watch as it shot down towards me, moving through the air at a snail's pace, its mouth open wide as if to swallow me whole. I could see the pale yellow venom on its teeth, the other head wearing an expression of smug victory now that it had me. It was torturous, the dread mounting in my chest as it drew closer, smothering everything else with its cloying touch.
Time slipped by so slowly I wasn't even sure it was passing at all.
I didn't want to die. Not again. Not like this.
"Then what are you going to do about it?"
Nakhash's hiss filled my head, cutting through the silence like a cleaver through bone. It echoed through the church, bouncing off the pillars and the walls. It was almost taunting with the way it reverberated, paradoxically not fading away but growing louder as the moments flitted by.
I didn't want to die.
A spark of something dark bloomed in my gut. It was red hot and scorching, twisting through the blanket of dread and burning it away as it swelled to fill my heart and lungs. It was joined by hoarfrost and thunder, the cleansing touch of spite and loathing binding to the unfiltered rage at the unfairness of it all, alloying themselves into a spike of ice and fire and pure malice.
I threw the door wide open, allowing the Warp in all its terrible multifaceted magnificence to pour through, and snatched it, brandishing it like a knife.
I wasn't going to die. Not here, and not now.
My staff was still in my right hand, but my left was free. I threw it up, my fingers splayed, and watched as a coil of black lighting twisted around my arm, splitting at the tip to form a pair of snakelike fangs. It sucked the light out of the alley, leaving it shadowed by a preternatural darkness that stuck to every nook and crevice like glue, a howl of animosity filling the enclosed space.
With a single thought, I let it loose.
Ǵ̴͎͎͍̪͌͒E̴̝͇͖̱̍̈́Ṫ̷͍̃̈̈́͐͌̚ ̴̬͖̼̳̘͖͔͋́̌̽̕A̴̠͙͌̀̍͋͠W̸͍̘̦̕Ǎ̴̧̭͚̞Y̸̳̍̈́ ̸͓̗̙̖̰̻͗͛̉̿̅͜͠F̶̳̲̫͈̌͑͊̉͋͘R̷̖͙̟̬͈͓͛̂̾̐̎̎͜͝Ó̸̳̦̏ͅM̵̦͈̙͙̘̻̂̈͒̊̈͘ ̵̢̪̞̲͈̽̅͂̀Ḿ̸̗͙̄E̵̢̥̦͇̳͙̽̈́̔̍̈́͘͠.̷̢̨̰̤̖̳͖̐͌̒͘
A banshee wail split the air as it lunged at the linnorm, glass exploding outwards from the windows lining the street, the dragon's own roar of agony and my howl of fury drowned out by the deafening screech. Two forks became four, then eight, then sixteen, then too many to count as the aetherial fulmination struck true, burning its path onto my retinas. It surged across the creature's heads like it was alive, tendrils of psychic power corkscrewing into its scales and throwing up gouts of blood where they pierced through.
The linnorm's eyes burst in a shower of gore, splattering steaming tissue and slime all over the place, but that wasn't nearly enough to explain the torrent of blood seeping through the cracks in the walls and freezing from the unearthly chill suffusing the air. The wooden supports turned black as they rotted, decomposing over the course of only a couple of seconds, filling my nose with the stench of bodies left to rot under a baking sun.
I convulsed from the tidal wave of thought and emotion thundering through me, the Warp's energies overwhelming any ability I had to stem the flow. It seared me from the inside out, body and soul, burning flesh and singing spirit. It was the most pain I had ever felt in my life, and in that moment, I earnestly believed that death would be better than this.
It only came to an end when Nakhash slithered forth and flung the door shut for me, cutting the rush of power off. I was left trembling on the floor, making ragged gasps like a fish out of water, my teeth buzzing with a powerful ache that was steadily making its way through the rest of my skeleton. The flesh of my hand where I'd been gripping my staff felt waxy and numb, a piercing whine filling my ears as a wetness trickled both from them and under my nails. A migraine pulsed behind my eyes, my vision clouded by dots of red from where the vessels in my eyes had burst.
"You've bought yourself some time, but even blinded that beast is still more than capable of killing you. Get up," the daemon said.
"Hurts," I gurgled, spitting a glob of pink foam onto the stone next to me. I felt like every nerve in my body had been held too close to a lit match.
"You drew too deeply and too fast for someone of your skill. Such are the perils of the Warp. The pain will be transient, so get on your feet! I'll help you push through it, but I need your assent."
I rolled onto my chest with a single choked sob as my whole body violently objected to the movement. I wasn't sure if the linnorm or myself had come off worse from that exchange, my arms quaking as I tried to push myself up. It felt impossible, like lifting the weight of the world, but I kept trying, desperate not to allow the daemon to take control again.
"Now is not the time to be obstinate!" it snarled into my ear, "work with me or you die, girl!"
I didn't want to let it in again. I still remembered this morning. I still remembered the way my arm had ripped itself apart, the horror that resulted from giving it even a little bit of leeway, and the idea of it doing that to me again was almost too much to bear. But even though I didn't want to admit it, I knew it was right: I wasn't going to be able to get away without its help. My choice was still cooperation or death, and I wanted to live more than I hated the idea of becoming a monster.
Nakhash didn't wait for any further agreement, its bulk flowing down my spine and through my heart again. I braced myself for the inevitable feeling of my flesh twisting and splitting and rearranging to its whims… only to flinch as a reinvigorating warmth sank into my body. It was vibrant and soothing, flushing out the pain and the bone-deep tiredness, a balm applied to every part of me all at once.
"What…?" I coughed up another wad of blood and mucous as I hauled myself upright with the help of my staff. My legs were still shaky, but I could feel even that starting to fade.
"There's enough vestigial power clinging to you for me to do some of my own biomancy. It'll keep you in one piece. Now get moving! Find safety!"
My first couple of steps were a little uncoordinated, and I nearly fell over again trying to put one foot in front of the other, but I made it to the alley's end without tripping. From there I made a mad dash through the labyrinth, just trying to put as much distance between me and the linnorm's flailing and roaring.
I emerged onto a main avenue of some kind; I could tell it was a high street from the markings of shops and businesses lining the buildings on either side, and the way it ran in one uninterrupted line from the cliffside to the lake's edge. More importantly, I could see a pair of steel doors lodged into the rock face. They were closed, but…
"Can we get through those? The tunnels, I can hide in them," I said breathlessly.
"If you're quick about it. There's only so much I can do with these traces."
A quick glance over my shoulder made my heart jump up my throat: the linnorm had recovered enough to continue the chase, and despite the fact it didn't have any fucking eyes, it was swimming through the air directly towards me unerringly like a damn bloodhound, snapping and snarling in what I could only guess was draconic for a very colourful string of curses. I didn't need Nakhash to prompt me; I dug my heel into the ground, readying myself to run faster than I'd ever done in my life as a brisk energy permeated my legs, and pushed.
I shot uphill like an arrow loosed from a bow, far faster than any human had any right to move. Every time my foot met the ground I leapt forward, covering more distance in a single stride than most could jump. The cobblestones whipped by underneath me as I ran, melding into a sheet of brown and grey as I closed the distance between me and the cliffs with truly superhuman speed. I was so fast that I was actually outrunning the dragon, my legs eating up the mile between me and safety so quickly I was closer to a damn cheetah than a person.
I had to ram the spiked end of my staff into the ground to avoid pancaking against the doors, and even then I dragged it a good couple of metres along behind me as I ground to a halt. I checked behind me again, grinding my teeth as I realised the linnorm wasn't as far behind as I'd hoped, having already cleared half of the distance itself.
I scowled at the massive, metre-wide bar keeping the two gates closed and hurried the last few metres forwards. It was the penultimate obstacle before I could get the hell away from that fucking nightmare creature and I didn't have the fucking time or inclination to spend figuring out how to get rid of it, so I gave the daemon in my brain a gentle nudge and directed its attention upwards.
"Can you get rid of the—"
Before I could finish, Nakhash flexed, the bar splitting down the middle with the screech of tearing metal. The two halves were thrown behind me a moment later, a deafening series of clanging noises ringing out as they rolled down the hill and levelled an entire row of structures before they came to a stop.
"Holy shit," I breathed, a little stunned by the casual display of power.
"Don't thank me yet, that was the last of the remnants. You'll need to channel again to open these. I'll guide you through it, but you'll have to be careful with how much you draw: your body isn't in a state to handle much more."
True to its word, I could feel the exhaustion setting in again. The energising warmth was fading fast, and I was rapidly growing more tired with each breath I took. I could still feel the twinges from my ill-advised attempt at unchaining the Warp. I wasn't sure I could manage another invocation, even a small one; just cracking open the door made my muscles spasm painfully, and I had to lean on my staff to prevent myself from collapsing to the floor.
"Nakhash, I can't… fuck," I swore, resting my shoulder on the door as I panted.
"You can. Blot out the pain, girl, you're not at your limits yet."
I nodded, gathering up the power for another try, only to be met with an even harsher sting of reprisal. I let out an anguished cry, putting all my will into staying standing as a wave of what felt like my bones being crushed wracked my body.
"Damn it! I— Fuck, it hurts!"
"You don't have a choice!"
One more look confirmed the daemon's statement. I had maybe twenty more seconds before the linnorm would be on top of me again, and I had nowhere left to run. I felt the gnawing fear well up again in my stomach even as I made a third attempt to pull something, doubling over with a pained gasp as my insides contorted from being pulled in every direction at once, rebelling at the attempt. Every fibre of me was begging for a rest, for me to lie down and take even a minute to recover from the exertion, both physical and spiritual.
But I didn't have the time. It was do or die.
And I wasn't going to die here.
I grit my teeth and growled, squeezing my eyes shut and reaching deep into my reserves for whatever strength I had left. My staff clattered to the ground as I crammed my fingers into the gap between the doors and pulled with all my might. My chest screamed at the abuse, but I ignored it and powered through: tearing a pectoral was nothing compared to what the linnorm would do to me.
"This is pointless, girl, use your power! Force alone won't help you overcome this!" the daemon hissed, sounding distressed for the first time since we'd met.
I panted, straining against the gate and grimacing at the lack of progress. Every single iota I had was going into this, but the doors refused to budge even a fraction.
It seemed impossible. Maybe it was. But this had to work. It had to, or I was dead, and I wasn't going to die here. I wasn't.
I refused. Not after all this.
"Come on! Fucking move!" I yelled.
Deep inside my chest, I felt something flicker. It was resolute and unyielding, nothing like the ugly mix of anger and fear and hate that had smouldered inside me and hurt when I'd unleashed it. An ember of will, burning white and strong in the palm of my hand—from my hand—lighting up the hall in my mind with its brilliance.
I cracked an eye open, hoping to see something, anything had changed, and my breath caught in my throat.
My arms were glowing like the fucking sun.
A rainbow of colours shimmered through them underneath the golden radiance. They peeled away in strands, almost the identical to the way they had from my focus when I lit the fireplace last night. My fingers had dented the metal in my grip even though there was no sign of it melting, and as I looked down, I could see each door slowly inching apart. Hundreds of tonnes of iron as thick as the entire length of my forearm, steadily opening from my will alone.
And yet, the one in my head remained closed, my mindscape devoid of the Immaterium's touch.
I didn't think about it further. There wasn't enough time to.
With a roar of effort, I threw my arms apart. The gate groaned, ancient metal that hadn't moved in decades or maybe even centuries giving way to my miraculous newfound strength, opening just enough to let me squeeze past. I didn't hesitate, kicking my staff through as I hurled myself between the gap. I felt a spray of droplets against my right foot just before the linnorm slammed into the doors, its weight forcing them closed again behind me, and then I was plunged into near-total darkness as the luminescence of my arms died out.
The only source of light was the faint glow of the quartz crystal. It was about as bright as an oil-soaked torch, but that was all I needed. I sat on the floor for a good minute, swallowing nervously as I focused on my breathing to bring my heart back down from its frenzied life-or-death pace. I could hear the dragon hammering at the gate from the outside, furious that I'd managed to escape; whatever they were made of was evidently enough to stop it from breaking through and continuing its chase, as they shook but refused to buckle.
Slowly, I lay down and stared at the ceiling. I was safe. I'd survived.
"Fuck me."
The magnitude of what had happened hadn't yet fully sunk in. The shock was still working its way through me, and given maybe half an hour I'd actually grasp how many times I'd nearly died and would probably burst into tears. For now, I was still operating in survival mode, too alert and stressed to unravel, so I took up my staff and crawled over to one of the side passages I could see by the crystal's glow. At the very least, if it somehow did manage to get through, I'd be able to hide from it further into the mountain's depths.
"I have to say, I'm impressed," Nakhash chimed in once I'd found a good place to sit against a wall, "very few psykers ever dare to weaponize their own soul in that manner. Well done."
"…Is that what that was?" I asked, rolling my right ankle. I must have sprained it somewhere during the chase, as it felt sore and inflamed now that I didn't have Nakhash's biomancy to dull the pain.
"Daemonology, as the servants of the Corpse-God call it. It's older than that moniker, of course, but they understand the principle. Daemons are drawn to the souls of psykers, but with sufficient will and some disregard for their life, mortals can turn that vulnerability into the most potent defence against the denizens of the Empyrean there is."
"Disregard for their life?" I prompted.
"Yes, many of those techniques involve self-immolation of the soul, as you just did. It heals with time, but it's not something you should rely on often. Much better to draw your power from the Warp: skill and finesse will make it far safer in the long run," it explained.
"Alright. Avoid the soul bonfire psyker stuff, noted," I said, biting my lip; the pain wasn't going away. If anything, it was getting worse. Not bad enough to be seriously concerning, but it was definitely becoming distracting.
"Speaking of which, I believe you should prepare yourself for another attempt."
"Nakhash, I need a minute, please," I groaned, resting my head against the wall with a sigh. I was pretty sure if I tried one more time to invoke any kind of psychic bullshittery I'd be vomiting blood.
"Look at your leg."
I frowned, pulling back my trouser leg and holding up my staff to get a better look at the injured limb. A slight inhale passed through my lips as I took in the patches of angry red and black slowly spreading upwards from my heel. I had enough medicinal knowledge to recognise the signs of necrosis, the limb very obviously starting to rot as the linnorm's venom worked its way through my system.
Suddenly I became aware that everything from my knee down felt like it was fucking melting.
"Ah, fuck."
A/N: "I'll take a day or two's break"
>Rests for one day
>Writes 2.2k words the day after
>Writes 2.3k words the day after
>Writes 4.3k words today.
I am begging you all to take this as unnatural, please, the spirit of writing possessed me and I don't know when it'll visit or why.
2024/08/10 note: just went back over this one with a more critical eye, did some grammar corrections and changed/added some sentences to improve the flow.
By the time I woke up, it was already light outside. I groggily rubbed the sleep from my eyes with a knuckle and blinked blearily, needing a short while to adjust to the difference. As I sat up to stretch off the minor stiffness in my limbs and neck, I was pleasantly surprised to see my many bruises from yesterday had already faded to a purplish-yellow, and the dull ache had subsided with it. Not good as new, but given a couple more days I'd be none the worse for wear; far faster than the couple of weeks I'd expected it to take.
Nakhash chimed in at the observation to mention that the faster healing was a knock-on effect from both my new body and the latent psychic power I possessed. I'd been subconsciously tapping my new focus in my sleep to help mend my injuries, on top of my (un)naturally strong constitution chipping away at the damage.
"Keep in mind that it won't heal anything that your body couldn't already," it had cautioned. Cuts and bruises would fade, but if I lost a limb I'd have to put effort into getting it back.
The fire behind me had died somewhere in the night, only cold ashes and burnt husks left in the firebox. I was still reasonably warm under my blankets, though the air in the basement had turned a little chilly. The oil lantern was still going steady; the reservoir had looked full when I'd checked it last night, and it wasn't small either, so I knew it'd go for quite a while longer before I'd need to use a new one.
I extinguished the lamp as part of my improvised morning routine, throwing my clothes on and grabbing another fruit for my breakfast. I'd thought I might get a little tired of them after eating nothing else for 3 meals in a row, but their flavour was still a treat for my tongue and the texture was so satisfying, like biting into a crunchy apple. At this point I could only really assume there was something magical about them, since they quenched my thirst too despite their sweetness.
And the fact I was still reasonably sure the tree had waved at me but that was another thing.
As I was about to leave, I caught sight of the poker hung up next to the hearth. It wasn't anything fancy, just a rung topping a long rod with a hooked spike at the other end. The metal twisted into a spiral near the ring, but that was the only ornamentation it sported. It was pretty crude, but I couldn't help but recall Nakhash's comment from yesterday about improving the housing from a broken branch; the encounter with the ghosts had unsettled me enough that I didn't want to go back out without something I could fend them off with.
I lifted the poker off its hook and tested its weight, feeling what little heft it had in my hand. It felt sturdy enough to take a hit, at least, so I gently poked the snake for its attention.
"What do you think of this? It's not a spear or a blade or anything, but it's pointy and tough."
I felt it unfurl in the back of my mind, appraising the mass of black iron with a critical eye as it looked through my own. I turned it over in my hand, spinning it on its axis to demonstrate the lightness, and I felt its reluctant approval brush against my consciousness.
"It's… acceptable, I would say? We won't be able to forge anything worthy of note from it, but perhaps with the quartz it could be a decent substitute for a true force stave. The branch will rapidly become unsuitable for channelling even a small amount of psychic power anyway, if your progress continues apace: it's already struggling to contain my essence as it is."
I nodded, snatching the crystal focus from where I'd left it on the table last night and depositing it, the poker, and my makeshift staff on the workbench. It was almost funny, how basic each component was, knowing I was going to try moulding them into something more suitable. Even the Imperium's own sanctioned psykers used stuff better than this, like arcane circuitry, alloys so far beyond my understanding they might as well be magic, and psychoactive crystals mined from the crusts of entire planets infused with the touch of the Warp.
And here I was using a branch, some quartz, and a pointy iron rod.
"Acolytes of Chaos make do with what they have, even if it is as crude as shards of bone from the once-possessed bound with barbed wire to a fragment of driftwood," Nakhash pointed out, "as you must at this time."
"Guess they get the short end of the stick, huh?" I mused as I shuffled the items around, ensuring they were touching each other.
"Awful pun. Truly terrible."
"You're mad you didn't think of it first," I shot back, "so, what now?"
The daemon breathed a weary sigh, "you will provide the power for me to reshape the vessel, as you don't yet possess the skills to make these changes yourself. I will need your permission to borrow an arm of yours for a short while as I do so."
"How long's a short while?" I asked, rolling the quartz back and forth with a finger idly.
"Five minutes, give or take."
"Sure, that works," I shrugged, bringing up my left arm to rest my hand on the branch.
I felt the daemon stretch inside my head at my verbal assent, unfurling into a sinuous length. Its presence rippled down through my spine like crude oil, taking a detour through my chest and the heart sealed within it to flow into my arm. Its passage left the limb feeling numb and distant, like it wasn't really my own anymore, more of an appendage that happened to be attached to me. Even trying to flex my fingers was like pushing through treacle, merely resulting in them twitching slightly.
"Don't interrupt. Focus on your part of this, and I will do mine."
I nodded and let my eyes close. Pulling on the Warp was starting to come a little easier now, with the few attempts I'd made already dictating a simple mental drill I could stick to: envision the church, crack open the door, and exert my control over the power that filtered through. The quartz itself, even if it was supposedly a poor focus, helped me wrangle the strands of energy into something I could use, filtering out the Warp's whispers and letting me direct it without any distractions. With it, I could weave the threads together like they were twine, twisting them around into concentrated psychic power and passing them on to Nakhash.
The prismatic filaments flowed down through my arm, encircling the snake coiled around it. For once, it wasn't looking at me, its laser-focus directed at my hand. Dimly, I could sense the psychic energy condensing in my limb, following the path of the serpent's presence, and the little mystical sparks jumping the gaps between my fingers.
"A word of warning: this will be unpleasant, so I do implore you to look away," it hissed, and before I had the chance to ask it what that meant, my entire arm ripped itself in half down the middle all the way to my elbow.
I choked on a scream as I recoiled away from it. The pain surprisingly mild for my limb having been rent at the fucking seams, but that was almost worse compared to what I got. Instead of a shower of gore, I was treated to the sight of strings of scintillating black flesh bridging the gap between each half and throbbing as it engulfed the bone. Vicious, serrated spines pushed through my skin as it spread, turning my whole arm into a hulking, misshapen clump of spikes and teeth and undulating flesh in the shape of a daemonic claw.
To my horror, it didn't stop there, my fingers making a stomach-turning crunching noise as they buckled and contorted, reshaping into tendrils that grew into thick ropes of quivering muscle. My right hand's fingernails, thankfully still intact and untouched by the steady transformation, carved trenches into the workbench's top as I doubled over. I had to bury my face into the crook of my elbow and bite down on my shirt to stifle my instinct to empty my breakfast on the floor.
"You could have fucking warned me!" I snarled through a mouthful of fabric, desperately trying to block out the noises my arm was making.
"I did," Nakhash replied, its tone detached and attention evidently elsewhere.
"You didn't tell me you were going to turn my arm into— whatever the fuck that is, Jesus Christ!"
It ignored my indignant cry, the tentacles enveloping the items I'd left on the desk and pulling them into the quivering mass with a sound I knew wasn't going to leave me alone for the next week. I could feel it fucking squelch around them as it moulded them, twisting and crushing the wood and metal inside me. Arcs of electricity snapped and crackled around the pulsating flesh, filling the air with the stench of burning wires.
"God, just— get it fucking over with," I groaned, tucking my ear against my wrist. Focusing on just keeping the flow of psychic power going was a welcome distraction, the noise and physical sensations blotted out in the sanctity of my own mind.
I counted the seconds to try and pass the time, anything to keep me from risking another peek at what was happening. I was somewhere in the two hundreds when Nakhash twitched and swivelled to face me again.
"It's done. Quite a good result, better than I'd anticipated given the base materials."
"Great. Wonderful. Thanks for doing this after my fucking breakfast," I snarled, levelling a murderous glare that it seemed to find more amusing than anything, "now give me my fucking arm back."
"As the lady wishes," it chuckled, bowing its head, and I dismissed the mindscape with a scowl.
I kept my head tucked into my elbow at first, working up the courage to take a look at the damage. After a few seconds, I turned to the side, peering at my left arm with a single eye, and collapsed onto my knees with a sigh of relief. There was no black writhing flesh, no spokes of bone, just regular human skin. The limb was back in one piece, like nothing had even happened, my fingers flexing on command smoothly and my sense of touch back to normal.
I got back to my feet a little shakily, running my hand over the arm just to make sure I hadn't missed anything obvious, but thankfully, there wasn't so much as a blemish I could find once I'd checked it thoroughly. Now that I didn't have to worry about my arm being a fucking eldritch nightmare though, I could turn my attention to the result of that horror show left on the workbench.
It made me blink at first, it was so innocuous. I'd expected something more… ornate, than the staff sat on the benchtop. It was more of a mace than a staff, the four long curved flanges at the top speaking to a very practical kind of brutality, very deliberately built for ending a fight cleanly rather than inflicting suffering. Sat in the middle of them, barely half the length, was the quartz crystal, still with its faint inner glow, though I could see little wisps of psychic energy peeling away from it to enshroud the blades.
Just underneath the head of the mace-staff, here was a bulbous circle of metal that joined at the middle like a shutter. It was fairly easy to extrapolate that there was something underneath it, but right now it was tightly closed, so I let my eyes drift down to the shaft. It was the most unassuming part of the weapon; I couldn't really call it anything but with how the tip was very obviously designed with violent intentions. It was just the ash-grey branch smoothened and moulded into a straighter shape, and the remains of the poker snaking—quite literally snaking, since I could see the scale pattern on the metal as it spiralled around the haft—all the way up to the head, with a very understated spike at the other end.
It was direct, modest, and utilitarian. It wasn't trying to ape any of the ostentatious craftsmanship found in the examples of daemon weapons or even force weapons I'd seen in some books I'd owned. It contented itself with an elegance born from austerity, conveying its purpose clearly. Even the chaos runes I could see were etched into the materials with a very straightforward typography. It existed to make a statement, and that statement was "fuck off".
I genuinely liked it. It was effectively a reinforced walking stick with a business end for confrontation. It didn't have to be anything more.
The magic made itself apparent when I picked it up, however. It felt feather-light in my hand, an extension of my own body instead of a tool I had in my grip. I even gave it a test swing, and I couldn't help but smile at the way it cut through the air with a deftness that belied its true weight.
"I see you've taken to it well."
Aaand there went the moment.
"Never fucking do that again, understand?" I snapped, tucking the staff under my arm as I moved to slip my sandals on, fastening the straps with a little more force than was necessary.
"You gave me permission," it answered cooly.
"I gave you an inch of leash and you ran a mile down Lovecraft lane with it. Last fucking time I trust you with anything like that."
"Watch your tongue, girl," it was the daemon's turn to growl, and I felt it ripple inside my skull, "I am not some pet you can unchain at will. We are partners in this relationship, and you would do well to remember that. Am I clear?"
I grit my teeth to suppress the lance of pain that blossomed behind my eyes.
"Crystal," I ground out, gripping the side of my head with my free hand.
The pressure dropped away, taking the nascent headache with it.
"Outstanding," it said, snapping right back to joviality. The contrast was unnerving.
"Now, what does my scion wish to do today, I wonder?"
I hefted my new staff, gathering the remaining fruits off the reading table and stuffing them into my pockets, and looked through the window at the dreary, but dry street outside. I couldn't see any signs of the ghosts, but I tightened my hold on the weapon regardless. I wasn't planning on coming back here if I could avoid it, not now they knew I was here.
"Find how to get the hell out of this place."
~•~•~•~
I peered through the crack made by lifting the trapdoor a fraction, scanning the remains of the dining room. I couldn't see anything threatening, so satisfied with my safety, I threw it the rest of the way open and climbed the remaining few steps back up to ground level. The rain had stopped somewhere in the night, though it had left a lot of signs of its passing in the form of dozens of puddles scattered around and the smell of damp permeating the air.
The empty marketplace was devoid of any signs of movement, living or undead. I wasted no time in exiting through the front door and descending the short flight of stairs back to street level. The plan was simple enough: just follow the lake's edge around to the other side to the gap in the mountain cauldron walls and take my leave. The lake waterfront had risen up to a couple of rows further down from where I was, so I quickly navigated back through the side streets to the main avenue I'd entered by and backtracked to where the urban sprawl started to taper off.
The high ground gave me an ample view of the land's lay. The counter-clockwise route was a no-go, as the ground there dipped as it got closer to the cliffs and had become part of the lake, so I'd have to swim across at some point, and the open fields there might as well be marshes. I had no intentions of getting wet again, and I remembered that scene from The Two Towers well enough to understand that getting into water deeper than my knees in a city full of spectres would be patently fucking stupid.
Clockwise was more promising, as the city limits ran right up against the cliffside and hadn't yet been submerged, so that was the direction I set off in. Ideally I'd have been able to dodge walking through any more streets—I'd backed away from the buildings specifically to put distance between me and any wandering dead—but I was a bit more confident now that I had something that would let me fight them if I had to. The only downside was that I had to walk through a bunch of waterlogged fields in sandals to get there.
I'd lived in England a good chunk of my life so I knew exactly what I was in for. I could very easily have just gone through the city and avoided this mess, but by this point I'd already committed and, in true British fashion, I bitched about it every step of the way. I had to constantly pull my feet out of the muck where they'd sunk up to the ankles and kept almost losing my bloody shoes doing so. That continued up until one got lost in the grass and I had to spend five minutes looking for it and then digging it out of the dirt, at which point I threw in the towel and just carried the things in my spare hand and used my staff to wade through the mud.
"This seems remarkably inefficient," Nakhash mused as I got my foot twisted in another clump of reeds.
"What part of the whole human fear response thing are you not understanding? You cannot be having this much trouble getting it," I retorted, sweeping the blades of the mace head through the stalks to cut myself loose.
"That staff isn't just for show. You have more than enough psychic power to defend yourself."
"I'm not fucking going near them if I can help it."
I vaulted a crumbling dry stack wall and yelped as my feet landed on the points of a few rocks and pebbles sticking up out of the dirt path on the other side. They didn't break skin, but my soles were delicate and hadn't had the time to toughen up yet. This was, at least, the last stretch of dirt I'd have to walk on before getting to the built-up areas again, so I slipped my sandals back on and marched onwards.
"Oh, do grow a spine. There are worse things you will have to contend with in the future as your powers improve. Do you think the Warp is truly devoid of anything that can seriously threaten you?"
"If this is supposed to encourage me to use my psyker bullshit you are failing miserably."
"Once you have accustomed yourself to that which lurks within the Empyrean, the material realm's horrors will feel very dull in comparison. Learning not to flinch in the face of the grotesque is a valuable skill."
I pulled a vague look of disgust, "that's— that's worse. You get why that's worse, right? No. Try again."
The daemon sighed and took a more lecturing tone, "there are only two kinds of mortals, girl. The quick and the dead. Fear can be a very beneficial emotion, spurring fast action and summoning reserves of strength you didn't know you had, but only if you master it. The difference between life and death is often the split second between seeing it coming and acting. You must learn to let it pass over you and through you, to face it and control it, or risk total annihilation."
I felt its gaze boring through the meat of my brain, slitted eyes staring directly into my soul, "the second most dangerous kind of psyker is the one backed into a corner. The first is the one that bares fangs born from their fear as a trapped rat as a weapon against their enemies. You know little of this world and what things within it pose a threat to you. It is best you learn quickly, so that your second chance here is not cut short."
It took me a couple of moments to realise that I'd come to a stop just before the dirt path I'd been following turned to cobbles, from a country road to a city street. I hadn't been paying much attention, somewhat absorbed in the conversation, but my subconscious evidently had and put the brakes on. Just looking at the decaying ruins that couldn't be more than half a mile ahead made my legs grow heavy and sent a slight chill crawling over my back.
I chewed the inside of my cheek while I turned the words over in my head. I wasn't sure if the paraphrased Dune reference was intentional on its behalf, but given its general attitude so far it was more likely than not. Regardless, I still had to go forward. The ghosts might be waiting for me, they might not, but the only means of escape meant risking meeting them again, and I couldn't just stand here forever stuck thinking about the one that had almost made it in.
The only way forward was through, and the sooner I was out of here, the better.
Without giving it an answer, I lifted my staff and continued onward, the spike clicking against the stone and a very faint static hiss emanating from between the mace spurs. I could feel Nakhash's own wordless satisfaction at my decision as it unfurled, its power flickering through the staff and turning the static into a soft crackling as a few sporadic sparks jumped between the blades. It was an unspoken mutual agreement, and one that helped quell my nerves as I approached the city.
~•~•~•~
Though, there was still one minor problem.
The mud I'd traipsed through to get here had dried on my goddamn feet and was starting to chafe. Ordinarily this wouldn't bother me, since I had walked barefooted on rock exposed to the baking heat of the desert sun before, but there was the aforementioned problem of the skin being very new and at the mercy of nature's torments. Hence, I was in a lot more discomfort than usual.
After maybe half an hour of doubling back on dead ends and navigating countless narrow alleys, I wanted to scream. I'd even tried taking the sandals off again but the cobbles were almost as hellish to walk on, and against my better judgement I decided to cut short the frustration by diverting towards the lake. I wagered that it'd be less painful to just get myself cleaned up and then continue on my way.
A good deal more getting lost and cursing whichever architect had planned this district later, I stepped out from underneath an archway linking two rows of houses. The lake was only a dozen paces away, which was more than close enough for me to see it was eerily still, not a single ripple disturbing the surface. Whatever ruins had existed there had disintegrated long ago, leaving just small piles of rubble poking out of the water, but around fifty metres out they tapered off to leave a flat expanse of murky grey.
Immediately I considered just turning around and leaving. It was the sensible thing to do: the entire scene looked like it had jumped right out of a dark fantasy novel and I wanted absolutely none of it. The blisters on my feet protested at the thought, however, so I reluctantly approached the waterline, keeping the business end of my staff tilted towards it just in case a platoon of spectres decided to charge me out of the shallows.
As I dipped my toes in without incident, I took a deep breath to calm myself. I placed my staff on the ground within arm's reach while I unfastened my shoes and busied myself with washing the dirt off my skin. Despite the ominous appearance, the water was cool and refreshing and a blissful relief to the fucking rashes I'd been developing. If I'd been less wary of the place and not in a hurry to leave I might have even tried swimming; it was quiet and calm, even though the atmosphere left something to be desired.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long. The first sign something was off was the feeling I was being watched again, the hair on my neck standing on end. I quickly half-dipped into my mind space to check that I hadn't let anything in by accident, but the door remained closed and fastened.
"Your sense for the Immaterium's touch is getting sharper. Good," Nakhash murmured. I could feel it observing me and my surroundings, like a teacher watching their student.
Ultimately, that wasn't far off the mark. I'd been floundering about like an idiot for the most part while it explained things at length and offered me a surprising amount of honest wisdom, which was much more than I expected from a daemon I'd forced into a stick.
I slowly reached out, my fingers curling around my staff, and turned my head just enough to look back over my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just about catch some faint humanlike figures peering at me from the shadows beneath the overhangs behind the archway and through darkened windows on the upper floors. They were keeping their distance, shuffling around to get a better look as they whispered amongst themselves.
"If you're expecting a striptease then you're going to be disappointed," I shouted, raising my voice to project it across the gap between me and the houses.
A good chunk of them flinched at the address, seemingly more surprised I'd noticed them than embarrassed at spying on me. A couple even turned and fled, vanishing into mist as they retreated. It was a far cry from the group that had attacked me yesterday, though Nakhash's words from the evening stood out starkly in my head: they were scared. Evidently, the experience of the one that had decided to take a step into my inner sanctum had been spread around.
I wouldn't be too enthused about getting close to the woman with a daemon serpent in her head, either.
I wasn't willing to entertain their presence, though, so I stood up and turned to face them fully, cracking the spike at the base of my staff against the stone. I let a little flicker of my power flow through it, a shower of cyan and violet sparks flying where it struck.
"I'll only say this once. Get lost," I warned, taking a step forward.
Most of them disappeared at the display, following their friends and dissipating into a cloud of vapour. I could count on one hand the ones that hadn't been frightened off, who seemed even more curious after watching me pull on the Warp. I drew a little more from it, and allowed flickers of phantom electricity to play down the length of my right arm and my staff, levelling the bladed tip in their direction.
"I know you can understand me. Last warning. I don't want to see you again, got it?" I said, letting the charge build until the mace was fizzing and spitting bolts, some of them grounding themselves while others just arced away into the air.
Something tugged at my trousers, and I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin, leaping a good few feet away and holding my staff out to ward off whatever had gotten close to me.
The child I'd seen from before was looking at me. They fidgeted nervously, leaning away from the cloud of static crackling from my staff. I couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl given how androgynous they looked, though I wasn't sure if the ghosts even understood the concept of nonbinary anyway.
I wasn't about to blast a kid, living or dead, with eldritch lightning, especially since I knew that psyker fuckery could wound the soul as easily as it could flesh. I didn't have the stomach for it, and God willing I never would. Instead, I opened my mouth to make another threat, but before I could, the child gave me a pleading look and spoke.
"You aren't safe here. You should go."
I tilted my head at the comment, letting my staff drop a fraction, "I… yeah, I figured. What do you think I'm trying to do here?"
The child shook their head, their nervousness rapidly shifting to panic as they looked out across the lake, "it knows you're here. Please, leave!"
My brow furrowed, and I was about to ask what the fuck they were on about, before Nakhash snapped to attention in the back of my head. It was the only warning I got, and the only one I needed. Another ghost, an adult, blinked into existence for a split second, grabbing the child by the wrist before the two of them dispersed as I sprang to one side with every ounce of strength I could muster.
The water's surface exploded, a huge mass larger than an entire fucking truck attache to a sinuous neck launching itself out of the lake directly towards where I'd been standing a fraction of a second ago. It missed me by an arm's breadth, slamming straight into the house behind me and utterly demolishing it with the sheer speed it moved at.
I managed to turn the fall into a roll and scrabble back to my feet, just in time for an image to imprint itself onto my forebrain. It was a saurian snout, jaws filled with razor teeth wide open and three slitted eyes gleaming with malice, caught in time as it surged towards me, its twin to my left in the middle of wrenching itself out of the wreckage of the house that had fallen on it. Its upper body had lifted out of the water, exposing a finned spine and the two massive pillars of muscle and scales tipped with fearsome claws that were its forelegs. I froze, knocked off balance by the vision and the chaos simultaneously.
"The quick and the dead, girl, MOVE!"
The basilisk's snarl jolted me out of my stupor, but my legs moved before I'd even had the time to think, spinning me on my heel and bolting towards the relative safety of the archway. A bare moment after I'd started moving, I heard something else lunge out of the water behind me and collide with the stonework. I didn't dare turn around, instead continuing to sprint up the alley and away from the fucking two-headed dragon that had nearly turned me into paste.
Somehow, I recognised the creature. Old memories of nights spent pouring over bestiaries while writing scenes and engineering fights for games that happened years ago let me recall the surface details. It wasn't a true dragon, more of a primaeval cousin to them. It was wingless, but not flightless, a beast that hunted from the depths as skillfully as it could from the skies. It possessed twin heads filled with malice and cunning and a hatred of everything not themselves, a breath as incendiary as it was toxic, and fangs that held venom so potent that without magical protection it could slay those with even the strongest constitutions. The only thing that didn't match up were the third eyes on each head's brow, but I didn't have the time to dwell on them.
A tarn linnorm. A terrifying beast that even a full group of experienced sellswords would be hard-pressed to survive an encounter with.
And I, a completely novice psyker whose training with weapons was sourced from theatrical re-enactments, had made the very possibly fatal error of stepping into its hunting grounds.
I took a sharp right at the T shaped junction the alley emerged into before ducking into another narrow passage tucked between two buildings just across the street. I heard my heart thundering in my chest, a triple valved thump that wasn't at all human, and suddenly realised that at some point in my flight my flesh had opened up again to expose the relic.
I didn't have the time to think about closing it, though, as another image smacked into me like a freight train: the shadow of a claw as it descended on me. I didn't understand what was happening, where these visions were coming from. I wasn't trying to call on them, but they were being yanked to the forefront of my mind anyway.
"Subconscious reactive precognition, you're divining the strands of future fates, so listen to them and act!"
I backpedalled furiously, just before the sharpened points hammered the street in front of me with enough force they left a deep imprint of the linnorm's claw embedded into the ground. The leg dragged itself back towards me, ripping up the cobbles in a spray of dirt and stone, and there was barely enough time for me to throw myself through an open doorway to dodge it.
The room I ended up in was filled with glass cases arranged on a dozen tabletops, displaying a menagerie of trinkets and ornaments. It was a shop that might once have been bustling with customers, but I hadn't the luxury of taking a proper look, throwing aside one of the tables to run into the next room, vaulting through the window and onto the street. The glass cut my skin as it shattered, but I didn't care about the surface-level wounds they gave me, my lungs heaving as I scrambled upright and continued my escape.
Moments later, the building was engulfed in a stream of acid-green flames. The stonework bubbled and hissed as it melted, the wooden timbers exploding from the heat, and I was forced to hold my breath to avoid inhaling the acrid fumes that poured off the sludge.
The linnorm was ruthless in its pursuit, ripping apart buildings and tearing up streets as it relentlessly followed me through the maze of the urban sprawl. And, much to my terror, it was easily keeping up with me, sometimes even anticipating which direction I would take and ensuring one of its heads or a limb was there to cut me off and force me to double back. The only thing that saved me over and over again was the flashcard medley of moments before my imminent death being shown one after the other with almost no break between them. They gave me just enough time to react, evading its movements at the last second to narrowly avoid being crushed, incinerated, or devoured, but the gap was narrowing each time I got away.
I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't be fast enough. It was getting closer with each attempt and I was already pushing myself to as hard as I could, heedless of the myriad of scrapes and bruises and lacerations steadily accumulating as I ran for my fucking life.
"You're a psyker, the limits of your flesh are an illusion! Focus and push past them!"
I didn't have the breath to yell at it, my lungs burning from the exertion of working so hard for this long. Not that I had to, as Nakhash could simply listen to my thoughts, and I had more than enough of those.
"I'M FUCKING BUSY!"
My luck finally ran out when the teeth of the linnorm snapped shut a handspan behind me, and I stumbled over a stone lifted just a centimetre above the rest. I hit the ground hard, my shoulder panging at the bone-jarring impact, though I was able to shield my head from a potentially lethal meeting with the cobbles by using my forearm to cushion the fall.
I looked back desperately, hoping I hadn't made my last mistake, and caught sight of the linnorm's heads hovering just above the roofs on either side of the alley I'd been sprinting along. One of them reared back a fraction, and I felt the world slow to a crawl.
I was dead. There was no running away from this. I didn't have the leverage, I didn't have the time. All I could do was watch as it shot down towards me, moving through the air at a snail's pace, its mouth open wide as if to swallow me whole. I could see the pale yellow venom on its teeth, the other head wearing an expression of smug victory now that it had me. It was torturous, the dread mounting in my chest as it drew closer, smothering everything else with its cloying touch.
Time slipped by so slowly I wasn't even sure it was passing at all.
I didn't want to die. Not again. Not like this.
"Then what are you going to do about it?"
Nakhash's hiss filled my head, cutting through the silence like a cleaver through bone. It echoed through the church, bouncing off the pillars and the walls. It was almost taunting with the way it reverberated, paradoxically not fading away but growing louder as the moments flitted by.
I didn't want to die.
A spark of something dark bloomed in my gut. It was red hot and scorching, twisting through the blanket of dread and burning it away as it swelled to fill my heart and lungs. It was joined by hoarfrost and thunder, the cleansing touch of spite and loathing binding to the unfiltered rage at the unfairness of it all, alloying themselves into a spike of ice and fire and pure malice.
I threw the door wide open, allowing the Warp in all its terrible multifaceted magnificence to pour through, and snatched it, brandishing it like a knife.
I wasn't going to die. Not here, and not now.
My staff was still in my right hand, but my left was free. I threw it up, my fingers splayed, and watched as a coil of black lighting twisted around my arm, splitting at the tip to form a pair of snakelike fangs. It sucked the light out of the alley, leaving it shadowed by a preternatural darkness that stuck to every nook and crevice like glue, a howl of animosity filling the enclosed space.
With a single thought, I let it loose.
Ǵ̴͎͎͍̪͌͒E̴̝͇͖̱̍̈́Ṫ̷͍̃̈̈́͐͌̚ ̴̬͖̼̳̘͖͔͋́̌̽̕A̴̠͙͌̀̍͋͠W̸͍̘̦̕Ǎ̴̧̭͚̞Y̸̳̍̈́ ̸͓̗̙̖̰̻͗͛̉̿̅͜͠F̶̳̲̫͈̌͑͊̉͋͘R̷̖͙̟̬͈͓͛̂̾̐̎̎͜͝Ó̸̳̦̏ͅM̵̦͈̙͙̘̻̂̈͒̊̈͘ ̵̢̪̞̲͈̽̅͂̀Ḿ̸̗͙̄E̵̢̥̦͇̳͙̽̈́̔̍̈́͘͠.̷̢̨̰̤̖̳͖̐͌̒͘
A banshee wail split the air as it lunged at the linnorm, glass exploding outwards from the windows lining the street, the dragon's own roar of agony and my howl of fury drowned out by the deafening screech. Two forks became four, then eight, then sixteen, then too many to count as the aetherial fulmination struck true, burning its path onto my retinas. It surged across the creature's heads like it was alive, tendrils of psychic power corkscrewing into its scales and throwing up gouts of blood where they pierced through.
The linnorm's eyes burst in a shower of gore, splattering steaming tissue and slime all over the place, but that wasn't nearly enough to explain the torrent of blood seeping through the cracks in the walls and freezing from the unearthly chill suffusing the air. The wooden supports turned black as they rotted, decomposing over the course of only a couple of seconds, filling my nose with the stench of bodies left to rot under a baking sun.
I convulsed from the tidal wave of thought and emotion thundering through me, the Warp's energies overwhelming any ability I had to stem the flow. It seared me from the inside out, body and soul, burning flesh and singing spirit. It was the most pain I had ever felt in my life, and in that moment, I earnestly believed that death would be better than this.
It only came to an end when Nakhash slithered forth and flung the door shut for me, cutting the rush of power off. I was left trembling on the floor, making ragged gasps like a fish out of water, my teeth buzzing with a powerful ache that was steadily making its way through the rest of my skeleton. The flesh of my hand where I'd been gripping my staff felt waxy and numb, a piercing whine filling my ears as a wetness trickled both from them and under my nails. A migraine pulsed behind my eyes, my vision clouded by dots of red from where the vessels in my eyes had burst.
"You've bought yourself some time, but even blinded that beast is still more than capable of killing you. Get up," the daemon said.
"Hurts," I gurgled, spitting a glob of pink foam onto the stone next to me. I felt like every nerve in my body had been held too close to a lit match.
"You drew too deeply and too fast for someone of your skill. Such are the perils of the Warp. The pain will be transient, so get on your feet! I'll help you push through it, but I need your assent."
I rolled onto my chest with a single choked sob as my whole body violently objected to the movement. I wasn't sure if the linnorm or myself had come off worse from that exchange, my arms quaking as I tried to push myself up. It felt impossible, like lifting the weight of the world, but I kept trying, desperate not to allow the daemon to take control again.
"Now is not the time to be obstinate!" it snarled into my ear, "work with me or you die, girl!"
I didn't want to let it in again. I still remembered this morning. I still remembered the way my arm had ripped itself apart, the horror that resulted from giving it even a little bit of leeway, and the idea of it doing that to me again was almost too much to bear. But even though I didn't want to admit it, I knew it was right: I wasn't going to be able to get away without its help. My choice was still cooperation or death, and I wanted to live more than I hated the idea of becoming a monster.
Nakhash didn't wait for any further agreement, its bulk flowing down my spine and through my heart again. I braced myself for the inevitable feeling of my flesh twisting and splitting and rearranging to its whims… only to flinch as a reinvigorating warmth sank into my body. It was vibrant and soothing, flushing out the pain and the bone-deep tiredness, a balm applied to every part of me all at once.
"What…?" I coughed up another wad of blood and mucous as I hauled myself upright with the help of my staff. My legs were still shaky, but I could feel even that starting to fade.
"There's enough vestigial power clinging to you for me to do some of my own biomancy. It'll keep you in one piece. Now get moving! Find safety!"
My first couple of steps were a little uncoordinated, and I nearly fell over again trying to put one foot in front of the other, but I made it to the alley's end without tripping. From there I made a mad dash through the labyrinth, just trying to put as much distance between me and the linnorm's flailing and roaring.
I emerged onto a main avenue of some kind; I could tell it was a high street from the markings of shops and businesses lining the buildings on either side, and the way it ran in one uninterrupted line from the cliffside to the lake's edge. More importantly, I could see a pair of steel doors lodged into the rock face. They were closed, but…
"Can we get through those? The tunnels, I can hide in them," I said breathlessly.
"If you're quick about it. There's only so much I can do with these traces."
A quick glance over my shoulder made my heart jump up my throat: the linnorm had recovered enough to continue the chase, and despite the fact it didn't have any fucking eyes, it was swimming through the air directly towards me unerringly like a damn bloodhound, snapping and snarling in what I could only guess was draconic for a very colourful string of curses. I didn't need Nakhash to prompt me; I dug my heel into the ground, readying myself to run faster than I'd ever done in my life as a brisk energy permeated my legs, and pushed.
I shot uphill like an arrow loosed from a bow, far faster than any human had any right to move. Every time my foot met the ground I leapt forward, covering more distance in a single stride than most could jump. The cobblestones whipped by underneath me as I ran, melding into a sheet of brown and grey as I closed the distance between me and the cliffs with truly superhuman speed. I was so fast that I was actually outrunning the dragon, my legs eating up the mile between me and safety so quickly I was closer to a damn cheetah than a person.
I had to ram the spiked end of my staff into the ground to avoid pancaking against the doors, and even then I dragged it a good couple of metres along behind me as I ground to a halt. I checked behind me again, grinding my teeth as I realised the linnorm wasn't as far behind as I'd hoped, having already cleared half of the distance itself.
I scowled at the massive, metre-wide bar keeping the two gates closed and hurried the last few metres forwards. It was the penultimate obstacle before I could get the hell away from that fucking nightmare creature and I didn't have the fucking time or inclination to spend figuring out how to get rid of it, so I gave the daemon in my brain a gentle nudge and directed its attention upwards.
"Can you get rid of the—"
Before I could finish, Nakhash flexed, the bar splitting down the middle with the screech of tearing metal. The two halves were thrown behind me a moment later, a deafening series of clanging noises ringing out as they rolled down the hill and levelled an entire row of structures before they came to a stop.
"Holy shit," I breathed, a little stunned by the casual display of power.
"Don't thank me yet, that was the last of the remnants. You'll need to channel again to open these. I'll guide you through it, but you'll have to be careful with how much you draw: your body isn't in a state to handle much more."
True to its word, I could feel the exhaustion setting in again. The energising warmth was fading fast, and I was rapidly growing more tired with each breath I took. I could still feel the twinges from my ill-advised attempt at unchaining the Warp. I wasn't sure I could manage another invocation, even a small one; just cracking open the door made my muscles spasm painfully, and I had to lean on my staff to prevent myself from collapsing to the floor.
"Nakhash, I can't… fuck," I swore, resting my shoulder on the door as I panted.
"You can. Blot out the pain, girl, you're not at your limits yet."
I nodded, gathering up the power for another try, only to be met with an even harsher sting of reprisal. I let out an anguished cry, putting all my will into staying standing as a wave of what felt like my bones being crushed wracked my body.
"Damn it! I— Fuck, it hurts!"
"You don't have a choice!"
One more look confirmed the daemon's statement. I had maybe twenty more seconds before the linnorm would be on top of me again, and I had nowhere left to run. I felt the gnawing fear well up again in my stomach even as I made a third attempt to pull something, doubling over with a pained gasp as my insides contorted from being pulled in every direction at once, rebelling at the attempt. Every fibre of me was begging for a rest, for me to lie down and take even a minute to recover from the exertion, both physical and spiritual.
But I didn't have the time. It was do or die.
And I wasn't going to die here.
I grit my teeth and growled, squeezing my eyes shut and reaching deep into my reserves for whatever strength I had left. My staff clattered to the ground as I crammed my fingers into the gap between the doors and pulled with all my might. My chest screamed at the abuse, but I ignored it and powered through: tearing a pectoral was nothing compared to what the linnorm would do to me.
"This is pointless, girl, use your power! Force alone won't help you overcome this!" the daemon hissed, sounding distressed for the first time since we'd met.
I panted, straining against the gate and grimacing at the lack of progress. Every single iota I had was going into this, but the doors refused to budge even a fraction.
It seemed impossible. Maybe it was. But this had to work. It had to, or I was dead, and I wasn't going to die here. I wasn't.
I refused. Not after all this.
"Come on! Fucking move!" I yelled.
Deep inside my chest, I felt something flicker. It was resolute and unyielding, nothing like the ugly mix of anger and fear and hate that had smouldered inside me and hurt when I'd unleashed it. An ember of will, burning white and strong in the palm of my hand—from my hand—lighting up the hall in my mind with its brilliance.
I cracked an eye open, hoping to see something, anything had changed, and my breath caught in my throat.
My arms were glowing like the fucking sun.
A rainbow of colours shimmered through them underneath the golden radiance. They peeled away in strands, almost the identical to the way they had from my focus when I lit the fireplace last night. My fingers had dented the metal in my grip even though there was no sign of it melting, and as I looked down, I could see each door slowly inching apart. Hundreds of tonnes of iron as thick as the entire length of my forearm, steadily opening from my will alone.
And yet, the one in my head remained closed, my mindscape devoid of the Immaterium's touch.
I didn't think about it further. There wasn't enough time to.
With a roar of effort, I threw my arms apart. The gate groaned, ancient metal that hadn't moved in decades or maybe even centuries giving way to my miraculous newfound strength, opening just enough to let me squeeze past. I didn't hesitate, kicking my staff through as I hurled myself between the gap. I felt a spray of droplets against my right foot just before the linnorm slammed into the doors, its weight forcing them closed again behind me, and then I was plunged into near-total darkness as the luminescence of my arms died out.
The only source of light was the faint glow of the quartz crystal. It was about as bright as an oil-soaked torch, but that was all I needed. I sat on the floor for a good minute, swallowing nervously as I focused on my breathing to bring my heart back down from its frenzied life-or-death pace. I could hear the dragon hammering at the gate from the outside, furious that I'd managed to escape; whatever they were made of was evidently enough to stop it from breaking through and continuing its chase, as they shook but refused to buckle.
Slowly, I lay down and stared at the ceiling. I was safe. I'd survived.
"Fuck me."
The magnitude of what had happened hadn't yet fully sunk in. The shock was still working its way through me, and given maybe half an hour I'd actually grasp how many times I'd nearly died and would probably burst into tears. For now, I was still operating in survival mode, too alert and stressed to unravel, so I took up my staff and crawled over to one of the side passages I could see by the crystal's glow. At the very least, if it somehow did manage to get through, I'd be able to hide from it further into the mountain's depths.
"I have to say, I'm impressed," Nakhash chimed in once I'd found a good place to sit against a wall, "very few psykers ever dare to weaponize their own soul in that manner. Well done."
"…Is that what that was?" I asked, rolling my right ankle. I must have sprained it somewhere during the chase, as it felt sore and inflamed now that I didn't have Nakhash's biomancy to dull the pain.
"Daemonology, as the servants of the Corpse-God call it. It's older than that moniker, of course, but they understand the principle. Daemons are drawn to the souls of psykers, but with sufficient will and some disregard for their life, mortals can turn that vulnerability into the most potent defence against the denizens of the Empyrean there is."
"Disregard for their life?" I prompted.
"Yes, many of those techniques involve self-immolation of the soul, as you just did. It heals with time, but it's not something you should rely on often. Much better to draw your power from the Warp: skill and finesse will make it far safer in the long run," it explained.
"Alright. Avoid the soul bonfire psyker stuff, noted," I said, biting my lip; the pain wasn't going away. If anything, it was getting worse. Not bad enough to be seriously concerning, but it was definitely becoming distracting.
"Speaking of which, I believe you should prepare yourself for another attempt."
"Nakhash, I need a minute, please," I groaned, resting my head against the wall with a sigh. I was pretty sure if I tried one more time to invoke any kind of psychic bullshittery I'd be vomiting blood.
"Look at your leg."
I frowned, pulling back my trouser leg and holding up my staff to get a better look at the injured limb. A slight inhale passed through my lips as I took in the patches of angry red and black slowly spreading upwards from my heel. I had enough medicinal knowledge to recognise the signs of necrosis, the limb very obviously starting to rot as the linnorm's venom worked its way through my system.
Suddenly I became aware that everything from my knee down felt like it was fucking melting.
"Ah, fuck."
A/N: "I'll take a day or two's break"
>Rests for one day
>Writes 2.2k words the day after
>Writes 2.3k words the day after
>Writes 4.3k words today.
I am begging you all to take this as unnatural, please, the spirit of writing possessed me and I don't know when it'll visit or why.
2024/08/10 note: just went back over this one with a more critical eye, did some grammar corrections and changed/added some sentences to improve the flow.
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