Chapter 31
Translucent Shadows
"Weeper. Chickenhearted weeper," a remembered voice.
I stand over Castor, blinking back tears that rise and falls as memories.
His face—bloody and serene in defeat—hits me like a physical blow, one powerful enough to rent stone. The curve of his jaw, the arch of his brows... they mirror Penelope''s features with devastating precision.
My Skathrith hovers above us, larger than before, its alien light casting writhing shadows only I can see. Thin ribbons of Castor''s blood spiral upward, drawn into the blade''s ethereal form. The whispers start soft, then build to a crescendo in my mind.
Take. Consume. Strong.
My hand lifts without conscious thought, fingers splaying toward Castor''s prone form. A sliver light flickers along my skin. The Skathrith''s hunger surges through my veins, a dark and malevolent heartbeat demanding to be fed. But Penelope''s face flashes through my mind—her wide eyes when she saw my power, the scar that marks her skin, the raw humanity in her gaze.
"No."
The word comes out barely above a whisper, but I force my hand down. The Skathrith''s light flares in protest, sending violent tremors through realms of folded space.
I plant my feet, shoulders squared against its pull.
"No," I repeat, voice steady against the blade''s furious roar.
A wave of light explodes outward as the Skathrith retreats, filling the space with an unnatural quiet. Castor''s blue eyes narrow, peace replaced by naked hatred.
"Don''t you dare, demon!" His scream echoes off the walls, raw and desperate.
The Skathrith''s power surges through my limbs as I turn from Castor''s broken form. Energy coils around my muscles, and I launch upward through the opening above. The chamber stretches beneath me, growing distant with each passing heartbeat.
"No! No! NO!" Castor''s howls chase me skyward, his rage-filled voice bouncing off metal walls. "Coward! Face me! End this!"
The words fade as sunlight pierces my vision, forcing my eyes shut against its intensity. My momentum carries me higher, wind whipping past my face, the Skathrith''s ethereal glow mixing with natural light.
Pain lances through my skull—sharp, precise, mechanical. The torq burns against my neck, its message etching itself into my consciousness:
Victorious—Defeated—Victorious.
Opponent: Castor Urisius.
Conquered: Skathrith Claimed.
Energy Assimilated: +10 Units.
The cold calculations scroll through my mind, reducing blood and struggle and choice to mere data points. My chest tightens. The mercy I showed Castor, the weight of that decision—all of it compressed into sterile measurements of power gained and battles won.
My fingers reach for my Skathrith, clench only emptiness.
Was there meaning in sparing him?
Or did my torq simply record another victory, another piece claimed in this elaborate game?
The Skathrith''s power surges through my veins like molten metal, each pulse sending tremors through my muscles. My ascent slows, the sunlight above growing distant as my control slips. The blade''s energy writhes inside me, untamed and savage.
Gravity takes hold. My stomach lurches into my throat.
The world spins, sun and shadow blending into a nauseating spiral.
Wind tears at my clothes, my hair, my skin.
The Skathrith''s light flares erratically, its presence a wild storm in my mind.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Metal glints below—strange, twisted branches reaching up like silver fingers. I try to call upon the blade''s power, to stabilize my fall, but the energy refuses to obey. It rages through my system, each pulse sending fresh waves of agony along my nerves.
The branches rush toward me.
Impact. Pain explodes across my shoulders as I crash through the metallic canopy. Alien leaves—half-organic, half-mechanical—whip past my face. Each collision sends fresh shockwaves through my body.
I hit the ground hard.
The impact drives the air from my lungs, and white-hot pain blazes through my ribcage. My vision fractures, dark spots dancing at the edges. Above me, unfamiliar constellations of leaves and branches weave patterns against a sky I no longer recognize.
The glass panels above splinter the sunlight into fractured rainbows, casting alien patterns across my skin. Each breath sends fresh spikes of pain through my ribs. My head spins, the clearing around me shifting and blurring like a painting left out in the rain.
I take a deep breath.
Then another.
The ground beneath me pulses with a strange energy, matching the erratic beating of my heart.
Metallic trees surround me, their bark gleaming like polished silver in the filtered light. Their leaves glow with an inner luminescence—blue, purple, green—shifting colors in a hypnotic dance. The branches twist in impossible angles, defying natural geometry, creating archways and spirals that hurt my eyes to follow.
A low hum fills the air, resonating with the Skathrith’s presence. Its pulsing light dims and brightens like a faltering heartbeat. Each wave of its energy ripples outward, disturbing the shimmering forest. The glowing leaves tremble, chiming softly like distant bells.
I pull myself upright, ribs screaming in protest. My hand brushes against the torq, its metal warm against my skin—a cruel reminder of the cold, calculated metrics etched into my mind. Victorious. Defeated. Victorious. The words circle in my thoughts, gnawing at my resolve.
Around me, the alien wilderness breathes. The air feels alive, heavy with unseen forces. The forest stretches endlessly, its metallic trunks rising into the fractured light of the glass sky. Twisting pathways branch out like veins, vanishing into shadows that move unnaturally.
I scan my surroundings, every muscle taut.
Something about this place feels wrong—like a dream teetering on the edge of a nightmare. My Skathrith hovers above me as always, its glow faint but insistent, a tether to its otherworldly hunger.
A flicker of movement catches my eye—a shadow shifting among the trees. My pulse quickens as I turn toward it, every instinct screaming to ready myself. But then I see her.
Binah.
She stands at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden by the twisting trunks. Her pale features are serene, her expression unreadable. She meets my gaze, tilting her head ever so slightly, as if assessing me. The moment stretches, heavy with unspoken meaning.
A slight nod. Barely perceptible.
Relief washes over me like a breath I had not realized I was holding. I cannot explain why her silent presence steadies me, but it does. For a fleeting moment, the whispers of the Skathrith recede, its hunger quelled by something deeper, something human.
But the peace does not last.
The forest hums louder, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath me. Leaves above shiver violently, their colors shifting in rapid, chaotic patterns. My breath catches as a sharp, searing light pierces the clearing.
I throw myself behind a tree as the beam slams into the ground where I had been sitting, sending shards of molten earth scattering. My ribs flare in pain, but I grit my teeth and press my back against the metallic trunk.
Another beam of light streaks past, tearing into the tree’s bark. The surface ripples unnaturally, as if rejecting the damage, and then smooths over in an eerie, fluid motion. The forest seems to respond to the attack, its geometry shifting subtly as if preparing for what is to come.
I peer around the tree, scanning the shadows for my attackers. The first thing I see is the light—small, flickering points moving in calculated arcs through the undergrowth. Then the shapes emerge: figures cloaked in shadow, their weapons glowing faintly at the tips.
Shafts of energy burst forth again, forcing me back into cover. My breath comes in short bursts, every inhale sharp with pain. I press a hand to my ribs, forcing the panic from my mind. Focus. Think. Survive.
The attackers remain hidden, their movements precise and deliberate. Whoever they are, they know how to strike from the shadows. Their silence unnerves me more than their weapons. I cannot see their faces, but I feel their intent—focused, unyielding, lethal.
The Skathrith hums, its whispers returning with renewed vigor. Fight. Eat. Destroy. Its presence surges in my veins, pushing against my control. For a moment, I consider surrendering to its power, letting it tear through the forest and my enemies alike.
But then I see her again.
Binah, still watching from the edge of the clearing. Her gaze has not left me, her expression unchanged. She makes no move to intervene, no indication that she will help. Just that slight tilt of her head, as if waiting to see what I will do.
The question hangs in the air: Will you fight as they expect? Or will you choose something else?
My jaw tightens. My fingers curl into the metallic bark of the tree, its surface cool and unyielding. The whispers press harder, louder, a storm building in my mind. But I hold my ground. Not yet. Not like this.
The attackers close in, their light cutting through the shifting shadows. Five of them now, moving in a loose formation, each step bringing them closer. The hum of their weapons grows sharper, more urgent.
I watch their reflections in the glass sky above, distorted and fragmented but clear enough to track. Their movements are deliberate, their coordination precise. They are not here to test me—they are here to kill me.
Another blast of light rips through the clearing, tearing into the ground just meters away. My ribs scream in protest as I press closer to the tree, the heat of the attack scorching the air around me.
The forest seems to shift again, its metallic trunks twisting subtly as if reacting to the danger. The alien geometry plays tricks on my eyes, but I don’t have time to question it.
The whispers rise, the Skathrith’s hunger a deafening roar. The blade hovers above me, its light intensifying with every passing second. My hands tremble with the effort to resist.
I close my eyes, steadying my breath.
Another test. Another trial.
This time, I will not falter.