aether claw 4

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I conjured an aether blade in my fist. I guided the formation, keeping a clear picture in my mind: a long, thin blade, translucent purple instead of blue. I had the aether required—I knew I did—it was only the understanding I lacked. Some key insight into how aether could form a solid shape—a weapon—continued to escape me.

Still, I tried. The dagger lengthened, but the edge grew indistinct. The form wavered, coiling like the millipede’s enormous body, which was twisting and crashing all around me. I hardened my will, and the blade straightened. The edges shivered and danced, more like forgefire than tempered steel, but the form held.

I tracked the path of the millipede’s coiling frame. It was chaotic, mindless…but there was a pattern in all that chaos. Holding the blade with both hands, I split my mind. With one part, I held the sword’s form. With the other, I focused aether into every muscle, joint, and tendon. My head ached with the effort, my body screamed as it struggled to hold itself together against the tension.

Burst Step pulled the world beneath my feet, and then I was standing on the other side of the den, nothing left in my hands but a faint wisp of aether.  Behind me, there was a steady, continuous crashing noise as the millipede's body slumped to the ground. A deluge of red sludge poured from a gash that ran half the length of its body, turning the ground into a gory soup of crystals, half-eaten remains, and the bloody goo.

You okay? I thought to Regis, who I couldn’t see among the folds of the millipede’s corpse. The pressure put off by his Destruction form had waned.

‘Don’t mind me. I’m just going to lie here in this stanky death soup for a minute,’ he thought tiredly back.