Chapter 27


    Where Light Won’t Come


    The Skathrith hangs above me, a distant point of light that neither warms nor illuminates. Its faint glow pulses softly, mirroring the rhythm of my breath, but its presence is cold—indifferent to my pain, detached from the carnage it inspired. Its light does not touch the chamber’s walls or the lifeless form at my feet. It is mine alone, my north star, a guide that does not lead, a compass that does not point.


    Movement stirs at the edge of the chamber.


    Binah emerges from the shadows, her pale form untouched by the chaos of the battle. Her violet eyes flicker with something unreadable—part curiosity, part fear. She steps closer, her movements deliberate but hesitant, as if she’s approaching a wild animal.


    She stops a few paces away, tilting her head as her gaze shifts between the Skathrith’s faint glow and the drained corpse. Her hand rises, mimicking the motion of blood draining. Her violet eyes narrow, silently asking a question I cannot answer.


    I shake my head, my throat tight. “It wasn’t me,” I whisper, though the words feel hollow even as I say them. Binah doesn’t respond. She lowers her hand but keeps her distance, her posture tense and wary.


    The Skathrith’s hum softens, its resonance settling into a steady rhythm that vibrates through my chest. Its satisfaction lingers in my mind, an echo of its hunger momentarily sated. Through our bond, I sense its presence more keenly than ever—alien, ancient, and insistent.


    A faint whisper threads through my consciousness, indistinct but unmistakable: FEED. EVOLVE.


    The words send a shiver down my spine. I push them aside, forcing myself to focus on the here and now. My breathing slows as I step away from the corpse, every movement feeling heavier than before. The chamber itself seems quieter, as if the walls are holding their breath.


    Binah does not follow. Her silence weighs on me more than her distance.


    I glance at the Skathrith, its faint light shimmering like a second sun above me. Its hum feels like a heartbeat now, steady and unyielding. The Blade has tasted blood, and I know this is only the beginning.


    The drained corpse at my feet is a stark reminder of what the Skathrith demands—and what it has already taken from me. My control. My rhythm. My humanity?


    I turn toward the chamber’s exit, its jagged opening beckoning with quiet menace. My legs move reluctantly, each step an effort to leave the echoes of the battle behind.


    But as I cross the threshold, one thought lingers in my mind:


    What will I become if I keep feeding this thing?


    The Skathrith’s hum deepens in response, a low growl of anticipation.


    The passage narrows, forcing me to duck beneath jagged edges and sharp curves. The air grows heavier, each breath carrying a faint metallic tang that clings to my throat. The Skathrith’s hum vibrates softly, its distant light trailing me like a shadow.


    Then I hear it—a faint clicking sound, distant but growing. It echoes through the passage, a rhythmic chittering that rises and falls like the pulse of some vast, unseen heart.


    The sound pulls something from deep within me—a memory I’d long since buried. A whisper of words, spoken in hushed tones around flickering fires:


    “In the dark where shadows writhe,


    The Thrynix wait to take your life…”


    The rhyme comes unbidden, a child’s song meant to frighten, yet it takes hold of my mind with iron fingers. My breath catches as the clicking grows louder. I take another step forward, and the walls around me tremble, their surface rippling like disturbed water.


    “Claw and click, they hunt as one,


    A web of death where light won’t come.”


    A shiver runs down my spine. We used to chant it as children, scaring one another into fits of terror. “Be good, or the Thrynix will come,” parents would warn. We thought it was just a story, a way to keep us in line.


    But the clicking is real. Too real.


    I pause, straining to listen. The rhythmic chittering rises, joined by a low, resonant drone that sets my teeth on edge.


    “Run, oh run, and hold your breath,


    For they will drag you into death…”


    The walls crack and split. From the shadows, they emerge.


    The Thrynix.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Their translucent chitin glows faintly, as though lit from within by flickering flames. Shadowy shapes writhe beneath their shells, a wriggling mass that defies reason. Elongated limbs tipped with serrated claws click against the floor in a sound that grates against my nerves. Thick droplets of fluid drip from their mandibles, sizzling as they strike stone.


    Their eyes—void-black and unseeing—fixate on me. For a moment, the swarm is silent, as if waiting.


    Then the clicking resumes, slow at first but building. I take a step back, and the rhyme’s final words echo in my mind, louder than the Skathrith’s hum:


    “But if you hear the clicking slow,


    Pray your blood they’ll never know.”


    The swarm moves as one.


    They rush forward, a wall of serrated limbs and clicking mandibles. Their movements are unnervingly synchronized, a tide of death surging toward me. My breath catches, but the Skathrith’s hum steadies me, its pulse matching the rhythm of my pounding heart.


    I drop into Wave of Stillness, my arms sweeping wide to deflect the first Thrynix as it lunges. Its claws glance off the invisible barrier of the Blade’s energy, but the impact sends a jolt up my arm. Another creature flanks me, its mandibles snapping inches from my side. I twist, redirecting its momentum with a fluid turn, but the swarm closes in.


    Their clicking grows louder, drowning out the Skathrith’s hum. My movements falter as the cacophony breaks my rhythm.


    The Blade pulses sharply, cutting through the noise. Its hum deepens, resonating with a single word in my mind: STRIKE.


    I shift into Root of Stone, planting my feet firmly and grounding myself against the onslaught. The first Thrynix lunges again, and this time I counter with a precise, deliberate strike from Blade of the Wind. My hand arcs through the air, trailing silver light as it cleaves through the creature’s neck.


    Dark blood sprays outward, but the Skathrith drinks it before it touches the ground. The creature’s body collapses, its translucent shell dimming as the shadowy mass within dissipates. The Blade hums with satisfaction, its light flaring brighter.


    Another Thrynix charges, its claws raised high. I duck beneath its swing, pivoting into Flame of Renewal. My spiraling strike catches the creature mid-turn, slicing through its torso. Its blood evaporates in a crimson haze, feeding the Blade’s insatiable hunger.


    The Skathrith’s influence spreads through me like fire. My movements grow faster, sharper, more instinctive. The whispers return, threading through my thoughts like a song: MORE. FEED. EVOLVE.


    The Thrynix adapt, their movements becoming more calculated. They flank and strike in unison, forcing me into a defensive stance. Their clicking rises in pitch, a disorienting rhythm that disrupts my focus.


    I stumble, narrowly avoiding a claw aimed at my leg. The Skathrith hums sharply, pushing me to counter. My body moves before I can think, flowing into a low sweep that trips the nearest Thrynix. I rise into Horizon’s Breath, the seamless transition aligning my breath with the Blade’s rhythm.


    For a moment, I am the eye of the storm. My strikes flow together, cutting through the swarm with brutal efficiency. Each kill feeds the Skathrith, its light growing brighter with every drop of blood it consumes. The Blade’s power floods through me, and I feel unstoppable.


    But the whispers grow louder, their tone more insistent: Kill. Feed. Evolve.


    The clicking changes, becoming deeper and more resonant. The swarm parts, and a larger Thrynix emerges from the shadows. Its armored body bristles with spikes, and its mandibles drip with a corrosive fluid that sizzles against the stone floor. A low drone emanates from its body, synchronizing the swarm’s movements.


    The matriarch fixes its void-black eyes on me. The Skathrith hums in response, its light flaring briefly before dimming. I feel its hunger sharpen, its whispers more urgent: FEED!


    The swarm presses closer, herding me toward the matriarch. My breath quickens as I shift back into Root of Stone, bracing for the onslaught. The Blade’s power surges through me, but the weight of its influence is suffocating.


    The matriarch lunges, its massive claws swinging in wide arcs. I deflect the first strike, but the force drives me back. The Skathrith hums louder, its energy flooding my limbs. I counter with a powerful strike, but the matriarch’s armor deflects the blow, sending vibrations up my arm.


    Binah’s invisible threads lash out from the shadows, pulling two smaller Thrynix away from me. Her movements are precise but hesitant, her violet eyes flicking between me and the Blade’s light. Her fear is palpable, and it cuts deeper than the swarm’s attacks.


    I center myself in Horizon’s Breath, my breathing aligning with the Skathrith’s hum. My movements slow, becoming deliberate and precise. The chaos fades as I focus on the matriarch, its droning rhythm a challenge to my resolve.


    The matriarch charges, its claws raised high. I dodge to the side, the Blade’s energy guiding my steps. The Skathrith’s light flares as I channel its power into a single, devastating strike. My hand arcs through the air, trailing silver light as it cleaves through the matriarch’s chest.


    Its blood erupts in a crimson torrent, feeding the Blade in a violent display. The Skathrith’s hum becomes a deafening growl, vibrating through my chest as it consumes the matriarch’s essence.


    White-hot pain burns behind my eyes. I stagger, my knees threatening to buckle as the torq etches its message across the inside of my skull:


    Victorious.


    Opponents: Thrynix Matriarch and 14 Swarm Drones.


    Conquered: Blood Claimed.


    Energy Assimilated: +12 Units.


    The words sear themselves into my consciousness, their mechanical finality clashing with the raw chaos of what just happened. Beneath the pain, something else takes hold—a euphoria that grips me, pulling me away from my fear, my hesitation, my humanity.


    Power floods through me, chasing away exhaustion and pain. The Skathrith’s whispers swell into a chorus, sharp and guttural: MORE. FEED. EVOLVE.


    The swarm retreats, their clicking growing fainter as they disappear into the shadows. My breath slows, the rhythm of the Blade’s hum steadying me. My fingers curl, and I feel the strength in them, the sharpness. My body hums with energy, every nerve alive with the power of the kills.


    Then I hear it—the faint chittering of the swarm ahead, their panic like a song calling to me. The Skathrith’s hum shifts, resonating with the sound, urging me forward: HUNT. FINISH.


    I take a step, then another. My heart pounds, not with fear, but with exhilaration. The Blade’s whispers become sharper, more demanding: KILL.


    Stop.


    I glance over my shoulder. Binah is standing still, her pale form rigid, her violet eyes wide. She raises a hand—not to me, but to the Skathrith, her fingers trembling slightly. Her expression is raw with something unfamiliar.


    Fear.


    The pause lingers between us, heavy and unspoken. Her other hand mimics a cutting motion, slow and deliberate. Her meaning is clear, her silent plea undeniable.


    I hold her gaze for a moment longer than I should.


    Then the chittering rises again, louder, more desperate. My eyes flick to the shadows ahead, where the swarm’s movement stirs the air. The Blade’s hum cuts through everything, demanding, relentless:


    RUN. HUNT. FEED.


    I obey.