the wyrm's mask part 8

The blade of the rapier barely missed the woman’s heart, and Zora found herself thrown backward again by the lower pair of arms and struck in the gut by a potent counter-attack. She was coughing and bleeding now and the fight had barely begun, but she couldn’t let herself stay down. Not now. Not faced with this one again. There was no retreating now, as the door slammed shut behind them.

She knew this one. Not a name, but a face. A crazed face, full of gleeful hatred. Twice over, they had fought, both over somebody near and dear to her. The first time, she destroyed the run-down house in a blind rampage. The second time, she had torn an arm off with nothing more than razor sharp teeth. She hoped, now that they had come to blows once more, that the third time would be the charm.

She really wished right now that she could remember how to turn into that monstrous, foxlike shape she saw in the memories. Try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to transform like that. Not as fluidly. Not without the mask she had, and that wasn’t the same creature at all. As she tried and tried to pull it forth, nothing came to her but a feeling of emptiness, deep in the pit of her soul.

And by god, she really needed it now.

She was only barely able to throw off the next attack, and that still left her open to being one-two punched by that other set of arms, which tossed her backward. She pulled herself into a roll and backed off, looking for an opening, any kind of opening, as the woman continued to approach. She was still being leered down by that one sickly yellow eye behind the mask.

She continued to keep her distance, and took out the crossbow. It didn’t seem to stop the woman, besides to cross her blades over her heart in defense. Good thing that wasn’t what she was aiming for, Zora thought to herself. She only barely knew how to use this thing, but she had to try.

The first bolt plinked harmlessly off the mask the woman wore. The second went wide and stuck in between a few bricks in the wall of the room. The third bolt, however, struck true, lodging itself in the woman’s third eye socket and stopping her dead in her tracks with a horrible scream. With that opening of opportunity, Zora dashed forward once more, not even bothering to take out her blade again and relying entirely on the power of her fists to deal the damage.

That, of course, isn’t to say the power of her fists was ineffective. She was a trained combat specialist. She could recall that much even if the person who had trained her remained locked behind her memories. A strong enough blow to the solar plexus could disable any combatant in a second, or even kill them if you hit just right. Even if it wouldn’t necessarily work on what she knew now to be a particularly tough to kill vampire, she hoped it would at least stun her enough to follow up.

Her follow-up blow did connect, but so did another one of the woman’s blades to her gut, biting into the previous wound even deeper. They were thrown off of each other, and Zora tried to catch her breath again as her blood spattered to the ground. Get hit there again and she would probably spill her internal organs. And then possibly be strangled with her own colon if she had the correct read on this broad’s personality. She couldn’t let that happen. This needed to be as clean as she could make it.

The woman ripped the bolt out of her eyesocket, and it began to slowly close as if nothing had happened. This time, as Zora raised her bow, one blade covered it, while the second remained over her heart. That was fine, she thought. She would need to disarm her, then. Perhaps literally. It might be easier to hit something as large as the shoulder joint than it would be to try to thread the needle and hit the eye again.

Unfortunately for her, she was not exactly an expert shot with a crossbow. Sure, she had handled and trained thoroughly in marksmanship before, but that was guns. Bows were a whole different animal to her. Several bolts missed their mark and smacked against the guarding blade harmlessly, or flew past her target entirely. She was running out of ammunition quickly now, and the fact that the woman kept moving definitely didn’t help. She supposed that only made sense, but she didn’t have time to miss all her shots and die today. Clever girl.

By chance, one bolt lodged itself firmly into the joint of one of the woman’s arms. A missed shot bounced off of the wall behind them and hit its mark from behind, as if Zora had performed some kind of trick shot. She hadn’t, but it was her opportunity to move in, as one of the two blades clattered to the ground harmlessly.

This time, she remembered that her blade existed, and forced it into the other shoulder joint during the shocked pause, disabling the pair of upper arms that had carried those swords. Before she could be attacked again by the lower pair, she jumped backwards out of range of the oncoming grapple. For the best, really, because she could see the fangs beneath the mask ready to sink into her neck and end her once and for all.

The woman dove for one of her dropped blades as Zora sprang forward once again. This time, the blade of the rapier pierced the heart…

But, one of the curved blades pierced through her torso in turn.

She fell to the floor, stock-still, as the three-eyed warrior screeched in terror and began to break apart into black ichor, which broke down, dissolved into the floor and vanished quickly. The sound of the mask she wore and the blades she carried was the last thing Zora heard before the room went quiet and she was allowed to register what had happened.

That was quite a bit of blood on the ground. She didn’t know how much of it belonged to her and how much was that evil woman’s. And the more she thought on it, the more she realized that a stab to the heart wasn’t supposed to kill her like it did. It was supposed to be paralysis. But honestly, she would take it.

She saw a small vial on the ground, not far from where the fight had ended, and heard the gentle fluttering of wings descending from above. She watched Verity land in front of her and pick up the vial in her two forepaws, examining it thoughtfully.

“Guh… where the hell have you been...”

“You freaked out. I fell off of you, and honestly I wasn’t about to get in the way of that anyway.” Verity answered simply, bringing the vial over. “Drink this.”

“...Why?”

“Just trust me. I think it’ll help you.”

“Because I’m really prone to trusting random corpse vials, right...” She took it into her hand and examined it herself.

The vial itself was very ornate. From bottom to tip, a bright gold wolf coiled its length, holding the lip with its two front paws. Set into its hip, was a pattern of diamonds shaped like the sun, that glinted just as brightly as its two gemmed eyes. The topper, which sealed a ruby red liquid inside, resembled a lily, too white to be gold. But its strange pinkish sheen in the lighting of the room meant it couldn’t be silver, either. She deduced that perhaps it was platinum, because it had the same glint to it as the engagement band that she had been given.

Just looking at this vial made her miss that band very dearly. It made her miss a lot of things.

“So you really think this’ll help, huh...”

“It couldn’t hurt. It sort of looks like the potion that we had the boat driver drink. If nothing else, maybe it’ll help you get back to town, so we can find somebody to help. Please. You have nothing to lose. You’ve been run through.”

“I guess you’re right. Anything to not die...” She popped the topper off of the vial, and drank it.

It was perhaps a bit too thick and heavy to be wholly pleasant to drink while it was only lukewarm, and the taste was overwhelmingly coppery. And yet, once it passed her lips, she didn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, until the vial was empty of its contents. Her eyes squeezed closed as a feeling of power swept over her from the inside out, and her wounds began to slowly knit shut.

This was no potion. She remembered this.

Vitae, the blood of a kindred. To drink it meant to live without aging as long as you consumed it at least once a month, and the powers, however minor, of the kindred it came from. It came at the cost of an addiction, and a bond to the kindred that fed you. Many ghouls were attached at the hip to somebody they had never known before, for better or worse, after tasting it.

Zora, on the other hand, was bound to two individuals through it. When Anya had first been embraced, they dreaded the fact that she would still age until they learned about this. Years later, after much hardship, and even being run out of a city, she willingly bound herself to the man she had found herself dating. She believed that it would ensure that she could never hurt him, and by that point, they had grown close enough that the bond would hardly matter.

Though she had tasted from others that she had become close to, due to the same belief that bonding herself to them would keep her from harming them, these two remained consistent. In a way, she knew she was lucky for that. To know that they wouldn’t hurt her, not beyond the occasional bite. She didn’t mind.

As her wounds closed completely, she sat up properly again. After drinking it, she not only felt stronger, but more resilient than she had felt before.

She knew who this vitae belonged to. She knew it well. To taste it meant to smell cologne on silken bedsheets, and to dance a slow waltz in her headspace with a man whose dark chocolate gaze could melt her heart into a puddle with a single look. Memories flooded her of quiet nights snuggled into his side, while he read a book and she played some game or another. Of a date on Valentine’s Day, when she had borrowed a dress from a friend and brought it home in shreds from the throes of passion.

“You need to wake up, dear...”

It was very distant, that voice. But Zora was sure she had heard it. It could only have been his voice.

“Wh- Jackdaw…?”

“Come on, poppet, everyone is worried sick about you...”

She looked around the room and saw nothing but the spattered blood, the body hanging from the ceiling, and Verity. No husband in sight. No one that this voice could be coming from.

“Jackdaw…? Where are you? What do you mean? I’m awake...”

“...No, no change yet.”

“No change- what-”

“I’ve been trying to talk to her. Nothing.”

“Jackdaw! I’m right here! Answer me!”

“I’ll keep trying. She’s not gone yet...”

“What! What are you talking about?!”

After that, dead silence again. No voices, nothing. Verity tapped her shoulder gently.

“Are you alright?”

“I- I heard him. I swear I did...”

“No one was saying anything. You’ve been yelling at the air. Maybe the blood-loss is still getting to you.”

Zora rubbed at her forehead. “Maybe… ugh. Still, what a hallucination to have. It’s like I wasn’t even there. He was talking to somebody else and telling me to wake up. Wake up from what?”

“It’s probably just one of those weird brain things. Come on, let’s get up and get you some rest, alright? You need it. You got really beaten up there. That potion in the vial must have been pretty potent. You’re good as new.”

“I… guess I am.” she looked down at herself as she stood up again. The moss that had been holding her wounds shut had fallen to the ground, and there was no damage to be seen aside from her now-tattered tunic.

“There’s one problem, though.”

“Oh, no.”

“The door sealed itself shut. How do we get out of here?”

Now that Verity had mentioned it, she was right. There was no other exit to be seen. But as much as it looked like there was no way out, she felt a tug from what was left of the being they had just fought, from the mask and swords. A part of her groaned, outright, at the idea of having to pick them up when she was already running out of ways to carry things, but she also felt like she needed to seize these remains.

She stumbled over to the small pile, and picked up the mask. After a minute of gazing into the painted black eyes on its surface, it began to splinter and crack, and through the cracks, a bright blue ether began to pour out of it. When it crumbled away in full, Zora’s vision faded completely to white.


It only lasted a moment, and when her vision came back, she stood on a platform amid a vast blue sky. As far as she could see, she was above the surface of the clouds, and before her, stood a beast far larger than she could have ever imagined, even at a distance. It was a bright emerald green in color, with a narrow, pointed snout and a ridge of long fins down its back. Broad, leathery wings sprouted from its back and beat gently, holding it in the air.

When it opened its mouth, the noises that escaped sounded like some sort of language, but it was so gruff and rumbling that, for Zora, it was nearly impossible to understand. She stood there, confused, while Verity seemed to nod along.

“...’Call us. Call us through the tides of time.’ That’s what it’s saying. That’s what the great dragon is saying...”

“That’s a great dragon?”

“It can’t be anything else...”

“So the map-making weirdo isn’t crazy then...”

Before the conversation could continue, the growling shifted pitch into what could almost be called a song.

“...It wants you to play along.”

Zora took out her guitar, and listened. Even for her, it was tough to find the pitch of a beast who couldn’t necessarily sing, but she eventually picked up on it and strummed along. It repeated the same few bars a number of times, to make sure she had gotten it, and then roared again.

“It’s still saying ‘call us’. But… Mr. Great dragon… what does that mean? What do you mean, call us?”

Without giving an answer, it bellowed into the air and began to fly off into the distance.

“Wait! Come back! Come back...”

With the departure of the dragon, their vision again faded into white.


It faded once more to the cool greens and grays of Woodfall temple. The heavy iron smell of all the blood was gone, however, and looking around showed them to be in another room entirely. Just in front of them, the cool winds of the outside blew in.

Somebody spoke from behind them. “Oh, darling, you look like you’ve been through the blender.”

Zora turned around to face an elegant Changeling draped boredly on an old, musty fainting couch. He pretended to file his nails with a stray piece of bark.

“You… you must be the royal tailor.”

“The one and only. That cute young man wanted to come in here and get rid of that awful wretch upstairs to get rid of the poison, but when I got caught, he was forced to run away. I hope the Summer King hasn’t been too harsh...”

“Actually...”

“...Oh, don’t tell me.”

“When I was there, I heard something about punishment.”

“Of course… impetuous as usual! Perhaps I can talk him down if it isn’t already too late. Will you be a darling and bring me there? In exchange, I’ll be happy to stitch your tunic back together.”

“That’d be great, thanks...”

“I’ll just need something to be carried in. Any size will do.”

“Wait what.”

“Didn’t you hear me, I said any size will do.”

“No I heard you, but… any size? Any at all?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Like, no specifications?”

“None, as long as you make it quick.”

Zora felt around her person for the various items that were strapped to her, quietly thinking that she really needed to invest in that backpack, and pulled out the small bottle that had early been used to revive the boatmaster. “This is all I got.”

“That’ll be just perfect.” He swiped the bottle, set it on the ground, and in a feat of physics defiance that Zora could be sure she had never seen before in her life, squeezed himself inside. Picking the bottle up again was no different or heavier than picking up a bottle full of water, which only served to confuse her even more.

Nevertheless, with the tailor in hand, she emerged from the temple. Already, the difference was incredible. Instead of being acidic and burning her nose, breathing in the air of Woodfall was fresh, although still heavy with the smell of foliage and peat. A look down at the water below saw it clear and blue again, rather than the sickly purple it had been when she entered.

Instead, looking to the sky was where the problem was. The moon was much too close for comfort now, and the sky was beginning to turn strange colors from its proximity. She frowned, looking at it, but she also thought to herself that she still had time to kill. The moon hadn’t fallen yet. She would have to find some way to better keep track of the time, if that’s what this quest was going to be.

First thing was first, she would have to return the pieces of the Great Primogen. She donned the Changeling Mask once more and dashed over that way, into the cool painted cavern that they had spoken to the wisps in before.

Just like in the town, the wisps rushed out in a flurry to rejoin together. Once whole, the woman that sat there, with dark umber skin and sharp eyes that masked a strangeness, smiled gently.

“Clever little fox would make an excellent surgeon. A successful procedure. But you know as well as I do that as much as a cancer can remiss, it can come back in full force, do you not?”

“Er… yes, ma’am.”

“You will have to re-enter the patient eventually. You will have to excise it again. But for now, the tumor has metastasized. It has grown and spread to the other regions of this land, and you are the technician with the specialty to remove it.”

“Yaaaay...”

“But fret not, little fox. I have a gift for you. Your payment for a job well done.” The woman leaned over, and booped her on the nose. The room began to spin, and Zora stumbled a bit, now rather uncertain whether or not she was still under the effects of blood-loss from before. After all, she suffered hallucinations, and now she suffered this. But it was gone as soon as it was there, and she stopped swaying just as soon.

“The most fundamental, undeniable truth of the universe is that there are things that not only medical science, but conventional science will never be able to explain. At the forefront of these, is the force of magic. I am the Great Primogen of Courage, my child, and your courage has proven you worthy of a broader grasp on those forces. In what ways, I cannot be sure, but you will certainly learn of them as you continue the procedure.”

“M… magic…?”

“Yes. Go now, I have no more for you. Prepare for your next surgery.”

Once again, leaving the Great Primogen’s home left her confused. She mumbled to herself as she began her trek back to the Changeling palace.

“Magic, she says. Surgery, she says. That’s not me. That was always Anya.”

“Maybe she’s not wrong, though.” Verity chimed in. “Maybe there was something to that. Like how the last lady taught you how to shoot fireballs as a Changeling.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Something is bugging you.”

“A lot of things are bugging me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I want to drop off the tailor to the Changeling palace. Jason needs to get let down from that pole. Or… whatever they’re doing to him.” She dropped into the alcove where the palace was built. “Dipping him in a vat of boiling water or something. Point is I ain’t having it.”

This time, she walked right past the guards without even addressing them, stunning them enough that they didn’t bother to give chase. They watched her march into the throne room and shrugged at each other.

Walking into the throne room revealed that they were, in fact, about to dunk him into a pot of something absurdly hot. Zora could feel the heat from here. He pleaded silently with his eyes that she had rescued the tailor, to which she replied by once again pulling the bottle from her pocket.

“Everybody stop.”

The frenzied Changelings all froze in place and stared her down, but none so more than the Summer King, who glowered down at this tiny fox with a frown.

“What was that, little one? You aren’t, say, a Loyalist, are you?”

“I don’t even know what that is. He’s innocent. He tried to get rid of the thing plaguing the temple that was poisoning the swamp, and I have proof right here.”

“In that tiny bottle? What proof could you possibly have?”

She simply tipped the bottle upside down and allowed its contents to pour out into the mint-haired, androgynous young man it was before.

“Sire, stand down!”

The king gasped. “The tailor!”

“I was the one that taught him the song! I thought he could help! When I was taken captive, he came back here to get help! And you, impetuous as you are, punished him rather than listen what he had to say! Are you a king, or are you a Keeper? Because this, is what a Keeper would do.”

“I-”

“Let him go.”

“… Very well.” He made a motion, and the surrounding Changelings began to untie the young man from the ceiling. “I suppose you were right, little one. I don’t know how I could repay you for the service you’ve done for this Freehold and the entire swamp.”

“You don’t need to do anything, sir. I’d just like the tailor to repair my shirt.”