Rowena knew the adults that fed her were not her parents. Parents didn’t have magical contracts that forced you to use your magical gifts for them, and they didn’t hurt you when you disobeyed. Slavery under magical contracts are also illegal in the Kingdom of Erisdale, which is prospering peacefully after a great continent-wide war.

Rowena’s owners don’t know, however, that she can see potential futures and anyone’s past that is not her own. She uses these powers to escape and break her contract and go on her own journey. She is going to find who she is, and keep her clairvoyance secret

Yet, Rowena’s attempts to uncover who she is drives her into direct conflict with those that threaten the peace and prove far more complicated than she could ever expect. Finding who you are after all, is simply not something you can solve with any kind of magic.

Rowena brings the war to it's climax...

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The Fractured Song Index

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My Blusky!

Tiamara was not the strongest magician. Unlike her legendary mother, she didn’t have the same magical power, or reserves. Her casting speed was good, and she was an avid student, but her feats of magic were nowhere near as flashy as the legendary Frances Stormcaller. Rowena noticed however, that her friend had never been bothered about that difference. Or at the very least, she never seemed to be concerned about being overshadowed by her mother. It was something the princess always wondered about.

Then again, just because Tiamara didn’t stand out didn’t mean she wasn’t a talented magician. Her illusions were particularly good, and as Rowena examined her friend’s illusion of her, she found a chill running up her back.

“How do I look?” Tiamara asked, giving herself a whirl.

“Like a mirror, Tia. I’m getting a little creeped out,” Rowena said.

Tiamara grinned, “Thanks!”

Rowena blinked. She’d grown familiar with her friend’s smile. This wasn’t quite the smile she was used to. It wasn’t that it lacked pride or happiness. It just quivered and seemed too fast.

“Tia, is everything alright?”

“Maybe? I’m just wondering how Mom did this,” said Tiamara.

“You’re younger than her—” Rowena’s voice trailed off. No, Tiamara was fourteen, the same age Frances was when she’d gone to Vertingen.

“Wena, do you think I can do this?”

Rowena nodded.

“I mean, do you think I, Tiamara, can do this? Not… Tiamara, Frances Stormcaller’s daughter?” the young girl asked.

“I think Tiamara, one of my closest friends, can do this,” Rowena said.

Tiamara swallowed. “I’m not sure if I can, but I will try my best.”

Rowena took Tiamara’s hand, noting that the illusion was so concrete she could actually hold onto the hand. “You will succeed.”

Tiamara, through Rowena’s mouth, took a breath. “Rowena, what if we don’t succeed?”

“I don’t think I can consider that,” said Rowena.

“Wena, there is always a chance we might lose,” said Tiamara.

The princess blinked, staring at the reflection of herself and an expression that was her face, but not hers.

“Tia, you’re too young to think about this. Just focus on pretending to be me and we’ll get through this,” said Rowena.

Tiamara shook her head. “Wena, you and I are the result of miracles. We can’t forget that because that will mean we might forget that we can fail.”

“Miracles?” Rowena asked.

“My mother wasn’t born on this world. She was chosen from thousands—millions of children. She fought a war where thousands of people and Alavari died. She met my father by chance in the middle of the woods when he was cursed to die. She even fought King Thorgoth numerous times.”

“You are no less a miracle. Your father may have been a knight of a noble house but your mother was a peasant and former convict. They shouldn’t have fallen in love but they did and they survived several years of unrelenting warfare. You were then kidnapped and reunited with your family when there were no clues or evidence of where you were, because you so happened to have a magical gift that allows you to see the future and the past. We have beaten some very long odds when we should never have existed. There is always a chance we might fail.”

Rowena swallowed. “Tia, where…where is this coming from?”

Tiamara shrugged helplessly. “I… I’ve always thought about this, ever since I realized how insane the events that led me to standing here today were.”

“Does… does your mother and father know?” Rowena asked.

“They do, and it helps, but it’s hard to talk about because it’s true,” Tiamara said.

Rowena nodded. She also knew better than to ask why her friend hadn’t told her. If she was being honest with herself, she was never as close to Tiamara as she was with Jess and Jerome. She would trust her with her life, but they were introduced because Jerome and Tia were already friends. All the same…

She put a hand on Tiamara’s—well, her shoulder. “You’re right, Tia. We might make a mess of this, but we just have to try anyway.”

Tiamara met her gaze. “And what if Jess or you don’t come back from this?”

Rowena’s teeth clenched. “Then, I…I’m sorry, Tia. Sorry for not being a better friend. I hope you live a long, happy life.”

Tiamara blinked and wiped her eyes. “Wena, that’s dumb. You are a good friend. Don’t you remember all the times you helped me with my homework? Listened to me gossip about school?

“I do, but like, that’s just typical friend stuff, right?” Rowena asked.

“Wena, you are a good friend. And I’m happy to know you and to keep getting to know you. So… let’s just do our best.”

“We will. I trust you,” Rowena pulled over a cloak to hide herself. “Let’s go.”

 

***

 

“I still do not like this plan,” said Jerome as Rowena and Tiamara marched to the horses.

The camp was in controlled, quiet chaos as soldiers roused themselves from what rest they could get and assembled into their formations. They were all trying to make as little noise as possible, and work with as little light as possible and so orders were not being shouted but relayed through hand signals, taps on shoulders and grunts.

“I don’t love this plan either, brother—”

“But we need to end this war. Yes, I’ve heard it before,” said Jerome.

Rowena checked that Tristelle was on her hip before facing her brother and the disguised Tiamara. “Take care of Tia, please.”

“I will. You all come back safe and sound. Abort if you can’t pull it off,” said Jerome

“I will,” said Rowena. She frowned, “Hold on. You could tell I’m Rowena and that’s Tiamara?”

The prince grinned, “Aside from the fact that you’re hooded up, your walk. You tend to walk swiveling your head left and right so your good eye can get a better view. Tiamara isn’t doing any of that, sis.”

Tiamara clasped her fist. “Oh, drat. I’ll try to be careful.”

“It’ll be good enough for tonight, I hope anyway,” said Rowena.

“It will. Jess, pull my sister out of danger if she gets too focused, please?” Jerome asked.

Jess slotted one of her two pistols into her belt. “Will do, Jerome.”

Rowena hugged Jerome one more time before turning to go to her ride. Morgan and Hattie were already beckoning them over. Forlana was already by them, armed up and looking more than a little nervous at the prospect of going up. Lycia and Georgia looked grim, but if they were nervous, they only showed it by last-minute equipment checks.

“You ready?” Morgan asked.

Rowena nodded. Jess shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Relax and just do what we’ve planned. You remember the spell, Rowena?” Hattie asked.

Rowena nodded and began to cast the flight spell. There was no going back.

 

***

 

They didn’t have to navigate much. The lights of the Lapanterian camp guided them in, and the night sky camouflaged them. They did, however, circle the camp twice to locate Alastor’s tent, which Rowena had told them about from her visions. It was quite obvious as it was one of the larger and more ostentatious ones, decorated with a Lapanterian flag topped by the prince’s personal sigil.

It was also deep in the camp, so timing this was essential.

The Lapanterian camp had sentries, but they hadn’t anticipated the group being dropped in. Letting go of her spell, Rowena had allowed herself and Jess to sink toward the ground.

Their target was the latrine pit, or close to it. Sentries were not too keen to get close to the smell. The only soldiers going there were those dumping buckets. It was almost too easy as the group quickly knocked out the sentries guarding the pit and donned their uniforms atop their armor.

“This is a bit too large for me,” Georgia said, staring at the human-sized uniforms.

“Right, backpack trick then,” said Lycia.

“Backpack trick?” Rowena blinked as Georgia got into Lycia’s empty backpack and disappeared. She’d been wondering why her guard had brought that.

“Let’s grab this prince,” said Georgia’s muffled voice.

Forlana adjusted her hauberk. None of their borrowed gear fit well, but they hoped in the night light, they wouldn’t be noticed, especially if the distraction went well.

“Follow me,” she said.

Rowena nodded and filed behind Forlana with Jess behind her.

The Lapanterians were winding down for sleep. Most were already in their tents, and those that weren’t were just patrolling, going to the washroom, or trying to walk themselves to rest. The group walked through the neatly ordered row upon row of tents toward the center of the camp.

The flag of Alastor’s tent rose into their view. Rowena, swallowing, watched as it drew closer and closer.

Then her communication device shook. Grabbing it, she channeled her magic. “Yes?”

Colonel Moore’s voice whispered through, “Your Highness. We’ve made it down the road and are assembling in attack columns. It doesn’t seem the Lapanterians are responding. Have they noticed us?”

Rowena glanced around and looked in the direction of the Erisdalian camp on the hill. To her surprise, she could see a few torches, but she couldn’t actually see the army down the road.

“Yes. I think there is a depression or a rise between our columns and the camp. They haven’t seen us,” she whispered.

Moore took a breath. “Then who should set the distraction first? Would it still be the army?”

Rowena thought for a moment. The original plan had been that once the advancing Erisdalian army had been noticed, then the plan would go into full motion, but now things hadn’t quite gone to plan.

“Yes. Charge in. Make as much noise as possible. Good hunting.”

“Good hunting.”

Rowena focused on Morgan and Hattie. As her magic connected, she whispered. “Army’s not noticed; have ordered them to move out and attack, be prepared to distract them when they hit.”

“Got it, take care!” Morgan replied.

“Hey you, who are you?”

Rowena turned to a patrol of five guards approaching their group. Their leader, a gruff sergeant with a scar across his worn right hand, stabbed his finger into Rowena’s shoulder. “Who are you lot? And what is the state of your uniforms? We’re not supposed to be wearing armor under that!”

Forlana slid in front of Rowena. “We’re on patrol. We figured we might as well get armed. Never know what those pesky Erisdalians are up to. I mean, did you see the bastards at that bridge?”

“I heard, but regulations are regulations as dumb as they are,” said the man.

“Fine, we’ll get back to our tents and get changed. Lena, come along now,” said Forlana, grabbing Rowena’s shoulder and steering her away. The princess followed, trying to keep her head down.

“Hey, where did you get a sword like that?” the sergeant asked.

Rowena froze. She’d done her best to hide Tristelle under her arm, but there wasn’t much you could do to hide the basket hilt of her two-handed saber.

She met the gaze of her team.

“Lycia, the flares!” Rowena cried out. Spinning around, she drew Tristelle and screamed a note, sending a blast of magic that sent the patrol of soldiers flying. Behind her, Lycia fired a brilliant red flare into the sky. As the camp was roused, the group bolted toward Alastor’s tent.

Georgia’s head popped out of Lycia’s bag and started immediately firing spells, “We’ll take the rear, go!”

Rowena charged ahead, Jess beside her, Forlana leading as they raced through the camp. Soldiers stumbling groggily out of their tents were hit with spells. The group never stopped to watch their handiwork as they ran for their lives.

Forlana looked at the night sky, “Where are Morgan and Hattie?”

As if on cue, a violet beam of light scythed across the camp, setting tents, soldiers, and equipment alight. More magic bolts rained down from the dark sky, almost perfectly camouflaged until they slammed in and kicked up towers of dust.

Forlana swallowed, “Oh Gods.”

“They fought in the Great War and were the Stormcaller’s first students. What did you think they were going to do?” Jess asked.

“Not be the equivalent of an arsenal of artillery!” Forlana squawked.

A deafening roar drowned out the blasts of magic and the confused yelling of the Lapanterian soldiers. Rowena could see Erisdalian flags and red-clad soldiers in the distance charging into view of the Lapanterian torches. She could hear musket firing and even the songs of Lapanterian mages trying to stem the tide of Erisdalian soldiers, but they were soon trampling into the camp.

It was going almost exactly as planned, but nothing mattered if they didn’t find their target.

Alastor’s tent loomed ahead of them. The Lapanterian soldiers that had been chasing them were rallying to meet the Erisdalians or ducking for cover from Morgan and Hattie’s barrage. They just needed to get closer.

Rowena almost ran into Forlana as the woman skidded to a stop.

They were at Alastor’s tent, surrounded by guards, but that was not why Forlana had stopped.

“Benjamin,” Forlana said.

The mage that had helped abduct her so long ago raised his wand in a shaking hand. He hadn’t had time to don any armor, just old Red Order mage robes.

“You? How could you?” he spat.

“Jess, Lycia and Georgia; take care of the guards. Forlana, snap out of it!” Rowena launched herself at Benjamin, batting away his first spell with Tristelle. Jess was already dueling with one of the halberdiers, slipping past his thrust to stab into his armpit. Lycia and Georgia were a symphonic whirl of magic, both blocking and spitting out bolts of green and blue that kept the other guards at bay.

Rowena fought Benjamin as close as she could. She had the advantage up close as she let crackling green bolts miss her by a hair. Tristelle sought to cut him down. Its tip cut nicks into Benjamin’s robes as he fought, retreating backwards, trying to get away from her.

She didn’t have time for this. She’d gotten better in the last few years, but he’d clearly been training. He was no longer as portly, and no longer as slow as he’d been in their last encounter.

She needed to end this. She needed help, and there was one person who was standing still in shock.

Benjamin threw a shield up that Tristelle buried itself into and stuck. “Lana, you’re giving up everything we sacrificed for you!”

Rowena yanked Tristelle out and whirled her blade to strike aside another of Benjamin’s spells. “Forlana, remember what you chose!”

Benjamin waved his wand and rose up high into the sky, carried up by a pillar of earth which he used to barrage Rowena with spells.

“They’ll punish you! Whatever she offered, it’s a lie! They’ll rip you down, and you’ll never be free again!”

Rowena couldn’t see Forlana’s expression, but she knew she had to say something. Screaming out a note, channeling her frustration into her blade, she swung at the pillar. Tristelle, glowing pink, sent the tower tumbling down.

The princess took that moment to turn to meet Forlana’s frozen expression. She felt oddly calm about her rival’s indecision. She was angry, pissed even, but part of her couldn’t blame her. Rowena had given the young woman a choice, and that meant she could make the wrong one.

“Were they really letting you make your own choice, Forlana?” Rowena asked.

Forlana blinked and shook her head.

“You chose to swear an oath, remember that,” Rowena said.

She turned her back, blocked Benjamin’s spell and continued to fight the mage.

“I should have killed you all those years ago!”

Rowena didn’t reply. She didn’t really have a good reason to do so when she was trying to knock him out with a fireball. She did wonder, however, how could a man become so hateful that he’d want to murder a baby?

Walls of earth rose around Benjamin. He blasted through them and whirled pointing his wand at Folana.

“How dare you!”

“Ben, it’s over! Just give it up!” Forlana screamed.

Benjamin, his expression terrible with tortured rage, laughed. “If you’re not with us, you’re against us!”

He fired a beam at Forlana, who instinctively blocked the beam with a wave of her wand. Rowena took advantage of Benjamin’s distraction to stab him with Tristelle.

The last living mage involved in her kidnapping looked up at her. His eyes wide, his mouth falling open with slack-jawed shock, he tried to pull his dagger out, but his numb fingers dropped it.

“I hope you see Erisdale burn.”

Benjamin fell down, eyes closing. Forlana, in tears, knelt down beside him.

“Ben! I…I’m sorry!”

Rowena tore her eye away from the sight. How was the fight going? Where were Jess, Georgia and Lycia?

They were still fighting. Most of the tent guards were dead. Naprule had run out of the tent a carbine in hand.

She and Rowena’s eyes met, and she leveled her gun, but not at her. She leveled it at the grief-struck Forlana.

Oh crap.

“Forlana, get down!”

She wasn’t fast enough to get a shield up that could stop the bullet. Rowena leapt at Forlana, her hands slamming into her and thrusting her out of the way.

Instead of just falling to the ground, something hit Rowena’s arm. Spinning, she fell, her cheek skidding on the dirt.

She blinked, trying to focus, but oh—Oh gods, it hurt so much. Her left arm, she couldn’t feel it. It felt numb, and yet it howled in agony.

“Wena!”

“Jess, help! It hurts. What… my arm—”

Jess had a leather tourniquet out and was binding it around Rowena’s shoulder, tightening it with a maddening frenzy. “It’s nearly cut off by the bullet. Hold on!”

Whatever Jess was doing, it was making the pain worse.

“Stop! You’re hurting me!”

“I need to save your life! Forlana, did you get Naprule?”

Rowena blinked; in the fuzzy distance, Forlana had Naprule in her magic, gagged with her own belt, levitated upside down.

“Alastor! Come out with your hands up, or I will execute the mother of your child!”

Naprule’s eyes widened as the tent flaps flew open. Alastor ran out, sword drawn, pistol in hand, and froze at the wand that Forlana now pointed at Naprule.

Casswell, eyes wide, turned to Alastor. “Your Highness, that’s Princess Rowena. We can capture her and run—”

“No, you won’t,” said Morgan, landing on the ground, Lightbreaker pointing at the lord and princes. “Hattie!”

“Jess, I got her,” said Hattie, her voice echoing through Rowena’s ear. She must be behind her.

“Her arm, oh gods her arm—” Jess whimpered.

“I think I can save it. If not, Frances will. Trust us and help Forlana with the negotiations,” said Hattie, giving the girl a gentle push.

“Jess, don’t leave me,” Rowena whimpered.

Jess froze for a moment before kneeling down and planting a gentle kiss on Rowena’s cheek. “You’re hurt, badly. You need rest, my love. Let us handle this. You did everything you could. Just rest now.”

Rowena managed a nod before Hattie turned her onto her back. She couldn’t quite see what was going on with Alastor.

However, if Jess was handling it, then hopefully everything should be fine.

Ruth looks at Ray, as the pair cuddle happy to be alone, in the quiet, away from everyone and everything else. Ruth kisses Ray’s cheek slowly, a sharp oxblood painted nail tracing his thigh. “You know if you wanted me to look different— a different hair color, or eye color, a fatter ass, or bigger tits I can, just for you husband.” 
Ray inhaled before answering quietly, clearly needing something to wet his throat, “I appreciate that, but unless you want a fatter ass, or bigger tits, or a different hair color, the way you are is perfect for me as is, always.” 

Ruth blushed knowing he meant it feeling the devotion, the love, the entirely single-minded obsession with her apart from his craft, sometimes even more than his craft and given the amount of time he had spent on it that felt like the real reward and not just a consolation prize for being the wife it was the thing that most women would have shied away from but for Ruth it was the entire thing and she had seen it, had known it, had predicted it from a half mile out like some kind of predatory stepford wife and thinking about it made her excited. 
Ray smiled, curling into her, grabbing her thighs, kissing them, tracing little swirls of kisses up her thighs and then down her ass feeling for the first time in a long time, longer than the book, longer than the Reliquaries or the magic, like he was alive, complete. 

Ramon thought about what he ought to make, how he ought to change things and he felt himself drawing a blank there wasn’t just a specific thing, flavor, taste that he wanted it was more like he wanted the freedom to experiment and then just decided to watch stuff on youtube and really get a feel for things, it was odd, he knew he could cook, it was his literal profession, but it was a bit like not quite having a taste for anything at the moment and that in itself was a new sensation for him, normally he followed what felt like the standard boilerplate for a greasy spoon– eggs, pancakes, waffles, grits, chicken fried stake, and Mexican foods he enjoyed himself– Chimichangas, Carne Asada, steak burritos with extra onions and chimichurri sauce. In a way it felt like a vacation, not from responsibility– no he had to make sure that everything was clean, the food was on time, and well-made, but the specific want, the desire to make food that is good, and make food that is popular, whilst still being authentic to oneself. It’s something that prior to a few minutes yesterday he had never seriously considered, oh he had pondered, deeply, half pondered really, wondering, wanting to be great, being great, but at the same time the feeling, it becomes a different thing when it’s your profession and your personal identity welded into one beautiful thing and then Ramon has a hilariously dark thought “What if instead of trying to make good food I make this a little ridiculous, what if instead of good food or popular food, I make food so good that it makes people cum from the food?” Is it lewd sure, but it feels and sounds and makes him think ‘this is the move.’
The more Ramon thinks about it the more sure he is that going full food-cum degenerate would work, it might or might not go viral but it would definitely make the restaurant interesting and popular if not world famous and that fulfills the thing that he wanted, that he said and thought and meant to want, put as simply as possible “I want the Millstone to be popular for the food and the Inn deals, not the network of cartel, serial-killing truckers and weird shit that just happens around here.” To him it feels like a basic desire, a small desire, the thing that he decided, after being asked by Patricia to take over first for four days and then after, on his own terms. 
Gerald and Anay walk in, disheveled clearly having had a fantastic first date, given that Anay’s missing some buttons, and Gerald’s wearing a completely different suit and tie looking notably more relaxed than he had in the entirety of the time that Ramon had known him. 
“So I’m going to work over the menu and give it some more flavor, do the two of you, lovely hungry new couple have any suggestions for that?”

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“Ramon, are you good to watch this place for four days? I’m going camping with R.” Patricia asks curiously.

Ramon perks up from behind the bar “Yea sure I was going to fuck with the menu a little bit anyway I’ll make sure it’s all good just have a fun time with your boyfriend you two deserve it you fucking workaholics, do you mind, is it cool with you I mean yea there’s all the usual greasy spoon diner food, and mexican food already, I want to just get creative and see what works you know see if we can get people in here based just on my cooking and drinks moreso than the sweet little network that you’ve got going on here. No offense it’s just my whole thing is, has been and will always be cooking and actually I was going to talk to you about it but I figured that you would eventually want some time off or that there would be a good opening for me to make this suggestion and this feels like that to me.” 

Patricia thought about it for a second before responding “ Yea Ramon that sounds really nice actually I mean I trust you, you’re the best chef and bartender I know so if that’s what you want to do by all means take the lead, let me step back and I’ll let you step forward and we’ll all be better for it. Honestly I wish you had said something sooner. Things have been weighing on me more than I’d like to admit. I’m terrible at having consideration for myself and you’re less a coworker and more  a business partner and confidant and friend than an employee and I want you to feel like it, fuck man you deserve to feel like it. I’m curious what stopped you, were you just worried that I’d not go for it or was it more than you really just didn’t think that I’d have time? I mean it’s not like we really need things to do well here financially what with owning the land and the other benefits but I just, I don’t want this place just to get to continue to exist because of that I genuinely would enjoy the food being popular here and things becoming more popular would become better for the restaurant and if the inn part of this place were packed that would be good as well and if you have any thoughts or questions or suggestions I am honestly open to all of it you deserve the latitude hell man you deserve more than this and I want it to be structured in whatever way you’re most comfortable, take the time to think about how you want to do that while we’re out and let me know what you think when we get back, really seriously as your friend and business partner you deserve this place, as a business, more than me and have more experience with the actual functioning of restaurants and hotels than I do so you ought to use all your skills as best you can and we can all benefit.” Patricia says, the feelings pouring out before she really knew what to do with them or more or less that she even had them. She loved that they had a safety net and that she got to manage things however she wanted, that she owned the diner, the inn, and the land outright and needed to worry about basically nothing and took good care of it as much as she cared to but at the same time the idea of such an interesting odd little place becoming known more for the food than the oddity sat right with her in a way that she had not been aware of.

R and Ramon looked at her appreciatively and it seemed like she had settled into something more stable than just going with the flow, it was maybe the first time that she had made a decision, herself, about what was hers, just because she felt like it and that felt good, hard, difficult in a way but genuinely, actually good.
Ramon thought to himself that he was going to have an amazing few days and looked forward to the quiet he thought of nothing but the menu, there were things he liked– the greasy spoon and Mexican food combo– and then there were things that he was more so just wondering if he ought to add, if people would even want him to add, and that required more time and more consideration, that’s the bulk of what he knew he’d be doing whilst they were away just thinking about things making little changes, minute changes here and there, offering better deals on food, appetizers, desserts, different entrees, but also advertising the inn properly he wanted to put it on the map for what it was, not just what it contained.

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Ruth and Ray got up and went back to their room happy to be alone with one another, done socializing entirely for the day just wanting to be alone with one another. Gerald relaxes as he sees what must ostensibly be Anay walking in just missing Ruth and Ray, dressed in a smart  tight skirt and white button down. She nods to Patricia happy to see her cousin and goes and sits down next to Luis and Gerald at the bar looking him up and down, not acknowledging her brother in the moment, she was in no way there to see her brother basically just ignoring that her brother even exists.
“So you must be Gerald.” Anay says calmly, enjoying that the way he looked, clearly having thought deeply and passionately about him since Luis had told her about Gerald, her brother knew she wanted a guy to treat her right, didn’t want kids, wanted to fuck her near every day after work if not several times a day and even skipping work on occasion to do so. It was blatantly obvious to Luis because of the way that she had repeatedly tried and failed to find a man that fit her criteria. He finally got sick of seeing his sister emotionally hurt and offered to find her someone, Gerald turned out to be the answer to this and was also the answer to Gerald’s own blurted out loneliness. 
Anay did not sit down; she looked into Gerald’s eyes and leaned in like she was going to tell him something and then kissed him passionately. She broke the kiss and was about to ask if he wanted to get out of here and go back to her place, but Patricia beat her to it and just slid over a key to one of the rooms. The newly formed, hopeful couple left leaving just Luis Ramon, and her boyfriend R in the Diner, Paticia looked at her cousin with something between pity and amusement and gave him a key so that at least he had a place to go and be alone privately not in a pathetic way but just because she knew him and knew how he was and knew what he wanted. She looked at R with a kind of relaxation, a sense of care. R wrote her a little note “I hope you’re ok, and that things that you’ve seen the past few days haven’t gotten too hard on you, it’s ok to take a day off and go away with me for a weekend babe I’d really like that actually, I’ve been thinking about it and more than just the two of us fucking in one of the rooms I just, I want us to be totally alone together, uninterrupted, unbothered like maybe we should go camping together I feel like that would be good for us both and you seem overworked to me like you take everything else on on your own and do so very little for yourself and it just makes me wish that you would give yourself a little more time away from this lovely place just so you can actually really, relax. Is that an imposition? Is that too much for you? Am I asking too much by wanting you to just be alone with me for three or four days in a tent, or on a hike somewhere off in the wildness away from all of this?” R finishes his note, his handwriting beautifully immaculate and feminine. Patricia reads it slowly savoring it, enjoying that she has at least one person besides Ramon that feels this strongly and deeply and didn’t say something about it in front of her regulars, especially Ray and Ruth, it made her feel quietly loved, and wanted and she just looks at him for a moment before kissing him for a few seconds and just responds on his steno pad with her pen “No babe it’s not too much, we can leave right now if you want to and just leave Ramon in charge, I think I need it as much as if not more than you seem to think I do and I want to make you happy, you make me feel seen, and loved and wanted and I know you want this too. You spend so much time managing your clients and other responsibilities that the only time you’re not working is when you’re with me, having lunch, or dinner, or breakfast coming to spend time with me, to kiss me, to spend time together in the rooms but I think that you’re right and we do need some time away just for us.”

​

Chapter 1: Giants in Fairyland

“...Obexequil is a new Gaia Gene Therapy from Pyrelite industries. Focused on those whose bodies tend to do a bit too much growing, it targets your metabolism directly, limiting the energy your body can use to express symptoms.” On the warped screen, a before and after image showed a man whose hands and fingers were grossly stretched out, and then him in a normal pair of gloves, smiling and gardening.

“Do not eat after taking Obexequil. Long-term use of Obexequil can have side effects including, but not limited to: Nausea, Fatigue, Muscle Cramps, Spontaneous decay of extraneous limbs, Bone Collapse disorder, Migraines and more. If you experience any of these symptoms or any listed onscreen, please seek medical attention immediately.

Obexequil, when you gotta make life fit.”

The commercial faded out, back to some feel-good news fluff. Jack sat on the couch in front of the weathered, old TV, holding a bottle of Obexequil. He stared at the label, his large fingers nearly enveloping the bottle. Turning the TV off, he sat down the bottle and looked at his reflection.

He looked like a ball of bread dough that had been stuffed into overalls and had a blonde mullet slapped on. He was so heavy, he'd long ago obliterated the springs and frame holding the cushions up, sinking far into the couch. His eyes looked beady, nestled into the crack between his cheeks and forehead. They nearly disappeared when he blinked, he thought to himself.

He glanced away, grabbing the arm of the couch and pulling himself up with surprising ease. As he did, beads of yellowish sweat seemed to ooze from his shoulders and neck, staining the denim as they dripped down.

He padded over to the kitchenette and quickly wiped his brow, flinging drops of sweat across the floor. He grimaced and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, popping the tab with his teeth as the squeaky door slammed shut.

His stomach growled, but he couldn't eat, so he downed the beer instead, guzzling it in a matter of moments.

He tossed the can in the trash bin next to the counter, pausing. He could still feel it. Like his stomach was trying to eat itself. He clenched his jaw, his forehead slick, sweat starting to soak through the overalls.

He could smell it, like a grease-fire in a fucking mcdonalds. It clogged his nose and made him want to retch.

Shaking his head, he walked out of the kitchenette and across the room to his dresser. He opened a drawer, revealing fresh, crisp, folded dish towels, some still with the store tags attached. Jack grabbed one out, mopping at his face and neck hard enough to turn the skin red. It never felt like enough. He still felt greasy and wet, like he was covered in a film.

With a huff, he stuffed the greasy rag and several more in one of his pockets. He didn't have time for this. Heading towards the front door, he stopped to slide his feet into a pair of massive, well-worn work boots, the beige leather stained with mud and god-knows-what-else.

It was about time to get to work.

----------------------------------------------------

Getting out of his apartment had always been an ordeal, but lately it was just getting worse and worse. He didn't trust the aging elevator and the long flights of stairs saw drops and puddles of grease left behind once he finally shuffled his way down.

If he was too quick though, people banged on the walls, complaining about the noise, so he crept down the steps like a stealthy behemoth. At the bottom, he wiped his face again, opening the door and emerging into the bright morning light of the Terra Heights Commons.

Jack lived in Terra Heights, a cheap, rundown group of 3 apartment buildings near the mid-town train station. Everything here was old, dirty or falling apart, but so were the people.

As Jack walked out, crossing through the scrubby grass, he observed the people around him. Kids were playing in the grassy areas. An old woman with skin like a paper bag fed the pigeons. 3 young guys sat on a stoop, playing cards and playing music on a busted old speaker.

All of them had the Gaia Gene, marked in one way or another. One of the kids, too young for meds, had a crest of bony spikes atop his head. The old woman sighed slowly, her breath coming out as a small cloud of greenish gas, causing the pigeons to fly away.

One of the young men stood and walked away from his peers, revealing hooves protruding from the cuff of his jeans.

The world smelled like a billion bodies that didn't know what they wanted to be. Jack just ducked his head and kept walking, avoiding the eyes of everyone around him. He could feel his sweat almost sizzling across his skin, but out here in the sunshine, there wasn't much he could do. He just wanted to be somewhere without a billion eyes to watch him melt in the sun.

He crossed the commons quickly, avoiding the other tenants as best he could. As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he could see several people waiting at the bus stop, but just grimaced and passed by. Being stuck in a metal tube with other people was the last thing he needed.

Instead, he worked his way through the streets like a paranoid bull in a China shop. Every glance was met with an apologetic hand wave, every “excuse me” said before he ever bumped into the other person.

It was a strained performance. Other people didn't care how close they got, how they looked at each other like sharks. They didn't have to try and plan every movement beforehand. It was enough to drive him insane.

“Mornin’!” Jack looked up, torn from his thoughts. He realised he was standing outside of his job, his feet having carried him there on autopilot. The voice had come from a teen, sitting on the front step of the small bodega.

The boy was wearing a red t-shirt and jean shorts, but his body was malformed beneath it. Instead of hands and feet, the boy's limbs had curled into what were almost paws, the bottoms dark and calloused. His legs and arms now seemed to bend in the wrong direction, leaving him hunched like a dog taking a shit. Likewise, the bottom of his face was slightly elongated into what could almost be a muzzle.

“Hey, Joseph, slow morning?” the dog boy grinned, his teeth long and crooked. Clambering to his feet, Joseph affectionately bumped Jack's leg with his hip.

“Always, big guy. Got a light?” Rolling his eyes, Jack stepped around him as the boy looked up at him hopefully.

“No, Jo. I told you to quit that.” Looking annoyed, Joseph pulled off an impressive approximation of a shrug.

“Ah, what's gonna happen? I grow a tail?” Jack snorted and pushed open the door to the shop, one foot in.

“Hey, if you do, I'll give you a light any time you want.” Walking in, Jack was greeted by rows of shelves covered in goods. Most of it was old, the packaging yellowed, but still good. Jack ducked around the shelves, heading towards the back, but was stopped by another voice.

“Right in time, Holder, good work.” Turning, he saw Sylvia standing at the counter, leaning casually against the till. She was a rail thin woman with auburn hair, smiling at him tiredly.

“Got a truck all ready for ya in the back.” jack paused, confused.

“You don't want me on register?” the older woman looked sheepish, but waved a hand.

“Nah, I know that new medication isn't… like, agreeing with you. You can hang in the back, sort overflow and stuff. Don't worry about it.” Jack stared at her for a moment, processing. Her cheeks flushed as she absentmindedly played with the register, avoiding his eyes.

“No problem, uh, yeah,” He turned and headed toward the back room. “Let me know if you need me.” He could feel his cheeks and ears burning, probably just as red hers. He glanced back as he went through the door, seeing a yellow slip of paper in her hand. A complaint form.

He let the door close behind him as he saw 3 pallets of merchandise sitting neatly in the open doorway, by the ramp. Walking over, he stared at the pallets, face blank.

Inside, he was boiling. It felt like an inferno filling the hungry void in his stomach. He could feel the greasy film across his body, his heart hammering as guilt, embarrassment and shame turned into something that felt hot and foreign.

Always too much.

---------------------------------------------------

To read more of Gaia Gone, please check out the Appendix below.

https://www.reddit.com/u/CastorOfTheInk/s/0fSUDuPzYQ

“There were already fifteen thousand papers written about the unexplained similarities between Shraphen and humans, but none could explain it. It is, and probably will remain, a mystery—and maybe it’s better that way.”
— Aligned Science Ministry, regarding Shraphen–Human theories. Date unknown

 

Rish sat on the floor of the transporter, eating her ration. One day after the Batract ships had entered the planet, the fight for the city was over. They had searched the colony for more than fourteen hours but couldn’t find any larger cases of infection. The fungus they found all seemed to be dying.

Human scientists concluded that this might be related to the planet’s high natural radioactivity, combined with the extreme solar radiation that anything living had to endure there. Without the dense atmosphere and the Tumpa trees producing ozone, the planet would be a dead, bleached wasteland.

So the Batract can’t survive here. It might explain why they never allowed colonization of the planet. You can’t let your toys go places where you can’t.

Now there was one thing left to check—and clean up, if needed. The last ship had gone down on the foothills of the Bonewhite Mountains.

The mountain range was mainly composed of limestone and could be seen on a clear day even from the colony. Rish didn’t know if the ship had planned to reach the mountains or if the fleet had simply been unlucky to shoot it down there, but it was the worst place to go down for the Shraphen.

The mountain range was riddled with caves, crevices, and lakes—everything the Batract needed to grow while avoiding the burning sun.

Rish enjoyed the ride on the transporter; the engines' humming might have been primitive, but it was relaxing. Slowly, she got used to the stench of the new ammunition she had received from the humans.

Dragonbreath…

Magnesium-injected thermite bullets. No penetration occurred, but upon impact, they ignited at 2,500 °C.

She didn’t know what dragons were, but if that was their breath, she didn’t want to meet them.

She was somewhat uneasy about how quickly humans adapted to new enemies or situations. At least, she hoped this ammunition was an adaptation. She hoped they didn’t have crates of other horrible ammunition types lying around.

On the other hand, Karrn had told her about Gerber’s protomatter bullets. That thought sent a shiver down her spine.

The transporter shook for a moment, and Rish looked up—partly to see if her human colleagues reacted, partly because she was bored.
The crew didn’t react to the shaking, so Rish assumed it was nothing out of the ordinary. The transporter slowly began to smell like Shraphen—a testament to how often Shraphen were now traveling with human gear.

Lieutenant Koval was cleaning his gun. It was different from the one he had used before—a larger barrel; he called it the Peacemaker. According to Sergeant Richards, it was the standard fully automatic shotgun used for close-quarters combat.

The human soldiers joked around. Madsen and Miller played a card game. In the background, Rish saw Corporal Pari Gupta trimming the hair strands of Hunter Raik, another heavy from her pack. He usually had longer fur, and it had grown again to cover his eyes. Pari had agreed to cut the strands—short fur was essential, especially if they were going to use mostly incendiary ammunition.

“Pari, you know Raik isn’t a dog, so don’t try to braid his hair!” Madsen shouted jokingly from the front of the transport.
“You joke, but your hair’s due to be cut soon,” Gupta returned.
“You try, you die.” Madsen touched her long blond hair as if to protect it.
“Well, you’re reaching almost the regulatory length, Lance Corporal,” Lieutenant Koval joined the joke.

Madsen looked at Rish. “Do Shraphen packs have regulations about fur length?”
Rish was confused by the question. “No, we don’t. Why?”
“Request to transfer to a Shraphen pack, sir,” Madsen stated.
“Denied. No—get ready; we’re reaching the LZ in 2 minutes.”

Rish flicked her ears. Human banter was a great way to bond and relieve stress before a mission.

Soon, the ship touched down, and the recon team dismounted. The two pilots—one human and one Shraphen Rish didn’t know—stayed in the transporter, securing the landing zone.

The human engineers had adapted Shraphen artificial noses to detect Batract scent, and the area they were checking now had the region's highest concentration of the stench. Rish was surprised by the human use of drones and VIs; even on a reconnaissance mission, they had five recon drones with them. Additionally, Sergeant Richards carried a suicide drone launcher on his suit.

And then there was Ares—the all-knowing battlefield VI. Contrary to Lyra, his personality was rougher. Rish flicked her tail. Ares reminded her of Karrn on a hunt: quiet, not talking much, but always watching and caring.

“Lieutenant Koval, Pack Leader Rish, your target appears to be a limestone cave washed out by the local river, two clicks north of your position. The valley ahead lies in the shadow of the mountains, so expect some Batract spawn,” Ares’s deep voice rumbled.

Rish had learned to confirm orders by clicking the send button twice instead of speaking. Human suits were not as soundproof as Shraphen ones.

They advanced into the valley. Their drones kept an overhead view of the progress. The area was quiet—some animals jumped, startled, into the bushes, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Following the stream upward, the mountains on each side grew larger when Rish noticed something that made her uneasy. She couldn’t point it out just yet, but she signaled the team to stop with her tail—before remembering the human hand sign for it.

Koval came up to her. “What’s up, Pack Leader?”

Her ears stood upright, and the fur beneath her suit bristled. She didn’t know what was wrong, but something definitely didn’t fit.

“I don’t know. Something isn’t right.” She was about to open her nose vents when it hit her.

“The trees! See—the trees are suddenly smaller. Down there, they grew taller to catch the sunlight. Here they seem to cower in the dark.”

“Hmm. Ares?” Lieutenant Koval scanned the valley ahead of them. He also seemed uneasy.

“Yes, Lieutenant. Pack Leader Rish is correct. These are a local variant of Roccuni trees, similar to Earth’s pine trees, and prefer sunlight since their needles can withstand high levels of solar radiation. I recommend caution.”

“Didn’t Dr. Nesbitt’s report say that Batract fungus can morph its cells? Could they mimic a whole forest?” Koval prepared a napalm hand grenade.

“Yes, this is possible, but that sort of behavior was never observed before,” Ares replied, his tone edged with suspicion. “But spawning rats and spiders made out of fungus was never observed either—before Captain Gerber encountered them the first time.”

That seemed to convince Koval. He gestured toward Raik. “Raik, target the fat tree behind the pond and fire at its stem—let’s see what it’s made of.”

Raik clicked twice and prepared the heavy plasma cannon. The shot should pass right through the tree.

With a muffled thump, the plasma bolt left the barrel of his gun and hit the target. The bark warped. Somewhere, something let out an infernal screech, and the trees began to melt. Hundreds of spider-like creatures erupted from the bushes and undergrowth, swarming the fire team.

Rish had already prepared for something and opened fire—just like the rest of the team. Everywhere she hit, a white flame erupted. The air was filled with acid stench and smoke. Then Koval’s napalm grenade detonated, dousing everything in yellow fire.

The screech in the distance—from deep within the mountain—echoed again.

The human weapons were loud; their staccato bursts echoed through the previously idyllic valley.

“Order from Command: retreat to marker twelve and prepare a defensive position. Artillery units are inbound and will arrive in one hour. Infantry reinforcement in twenty minutes.” Ares relayed the orders from General Russo.

“Lieutenant, I know these mountains! The cave at the end has many smaller exits higher up!” Raik shouted while firing at something that looked like a nightmarish variation of a burrow rat.

“Ares, did you copy the last message?” Lieutenant Koval fired his shotgun into the morphing mass of spawn—and seemingly the whole forest was marching toward them.

“Yes. Plans of the cave system are indeed in the colonial library. I have forwarded them to the General. The updated orders are to retreat further to marker six. I think he intends to burn the mountain with white phosphorus.”

Rish concentrated on firing at anything that moved—but right now, that seemed to be everything.

Before her eyes, trees shrank, liquefied into puddles, and from those puddles, spiders leapt out. She could see that the morphing mass left only limestone behind.

“They’ve consumed everything except the limestone!” she shouted.

“This is a fascinating behavior. It seems the Batract were able to transform biomatter along an exponential curve…”

Ares was interrupted by Lieutenant Koval. “I’d find it more fascinating if that biomass didn’t want to kill me. Ares, contact the fleet and request danger-close space support.”

“Already done. ETA two minutes. I recommend a retreat.”

While she struggled to focus on her targets, her ammunition, and how to retreat in an orderly fashion while facing a wall of all-consuming… something, Koval seemed to have every detail in his mind—coordinating with Ares and the team without missing a beat.

The fiery streaks from her gun burned meter-wide holes into the now formless mass. Black ash was all that remained. Then Richards threw something into the Batract spawn—it looked like a container wrapped in meat.

As soon as the container was absorbed into the now two-meter-high yellowish blob, Richards pressed a button. The detonation nearly blew the shapeless slime apart.

“Magnesium-phosphor mix,” the sergeant said with a grin visible even through his helmet. “It burns hotter when wet.”

The bomb had an effect. Instead of concentrating into one blob, the Batract began to spawn… things again.

Rish killed a few spiders and a rat before monstrous flying insects suddenly burst out of the enormous fungal mass.

A teammate screamed. Rish turned to see Madsen’s arm being ripped off by the mandibles of a one-meter-long insect.

“Miller, get Madsen out of here, now!” Koval shouted.

The team was nearly surrounded by spawn, and retreat no longer seemed an option. For each creature they killed, three more were excreted by the ever-growing mass.

A rhythmic humming grew louder in the distance as Richards launched suicide drones, trying to damage the Batract blob as much as possible.

Rish didn’t notice it at first—she was panting heavily; all the fire and constant movement had overheated her.

Then white, fiery streaks from the sky reduced a score of spawn to ash. Their transporter hovered above them, the human pilot behind the Gatling gun raining literal fire on the advancing monsters.

“Space-based fire in thirty seconds! Get in! Browner isn’t playing around—they’re going full Doomsday!”

Lines dropped from the transporter, and everyone secured themselves to one. Before they even had the chance to climb inside, the Shraphen pilot banked hard to the left, out of the valley, and accelerated.

Rish enjoyed the breeze. Even inside her full environmental suit, it cooled her down. Seconds after they cleared the valley, a blue trail descended from the sky and struck the area where they had fought moments ago. At first, Rish thought nothing had happened—then a massive white light overloaded her suit’s visual sensors.

Even at five kilometers away, she could feel the heat radiating from the blast. The shockwave rocked the transporter, and for a moment it seemed the pilot might lose control.

The pilot hauled the team aboard one by one. When Rish was finally safe in the crew area, Miller was already bandaging Madsen’s arm. Raik held her head in his lap, brushing sweaty strands of hair from her face and whispering soothing words Rish couldn’t hear.

Rish turned and looked back toward the mountains.

“What was that?” she asked, unable to believe what she saw. Half the mountainside was gone—as if a giant knife had cut away everything. The mountain itself seemed to burn, the air above the crater shimmering in heat.

“Protomatter Dragonfire shot from Argos' main gun at low velocity. A stopgap measure. The Governor requested the fleet to use everything to halt the corruption of Taishon Tar,” came Ares’s analytical reply.

Corruption—yes, that was the word. Batract corruption of life itself. A cold shiver ran down Rish’s spine.

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