10

At first, all was quiet, not a creature moved, not Ogrim, not Seer, not I. But for the dancing light of the Dream Nail poised over Ogrim's head, it seemed that even time had lurched to a halt.

From twenty paces off, Dryya absorbed the scene without even a turn of her head. She stood tall and unscathed, the longnail in her grip painted with gore and chitin.

"That is a strange weapon you bear, moth," Dryya said. "I did not know your kind to be capable of martial skill." She took a step closer and flicked the blood from her longnail. "You menace a Great Knight with that very weapon. I did not know your kind to be capable of dealing death either."

"What?" The shake of Seer's head set her antennae to flailing. "This is not a weapon, I menace no one."

"Is that so?" Dryya rumbled. "I see the piercing tip of a nail trained upon a bug far too wounded to defend himself. By my reckoning that is no amiable pose. If you are as wise as your race is famed to be, then you will step away from the Loyal Knight. Slowly."

Seer hesitated but did as Dryya demanded and lowered the Dream Nail to her side. It vibrated with a nervous energy, refusing to revert to that cold, black disc. "This tool can do no harm," Seer asserted, "it does not pierce or rend. It merely peers into the minds of those it touches, nothing more."

With Seer no longer in striking distance of Ogrim, Dryya's stance slackened—but only slightly. She studied the Dream Nail. "You sought to steal the Loyal Knight's secrets. You are a thief, then? It is a far cry from murderer, but that distinction does you little help."

Again, Seer's antennae lashed from side to side. "No, you misunderstand. I merely sought to learn the truth of Loyal Ogrim's words. He told of an impending danger and warned me to flee, but I could not simply abandon him to an unknown fate."

"Dangers abound in this place," Dryya said with a vague gesture. "If you know anything of Kingdom's Edge, then that should be obvious." Her predatory gaze shifted to me. "You have stumbled into matters that do not concern you, moth. If what you say is true, then it was likely Ogrim's intent for you to return home. You should heed that advice."

Still facing Dryya, Seer sidled over to me. Her trembling claw closed around my arm. "If that is your counsel, Fierce Knight, then it is not my place to object. My—My friend and I will depart now." Her wings loosed a dusting of ruby powder as they tensed.

"Wait!" Dryya barked. She crouched low as if readying to pounce, but when Seer made no further move, she stilled. "Ogrim and I have business with that… bug. It is the purpose for our journey here. You will depart alone."

Seer's grip on my arm was like a vise. "It was Ogrim's request that I bring this bug with me back to the Kingdom. How am I to know which Knight to obey?"

Dryya crept closer, still in a half-crouch. "I am the elder Knight. You will heed me. Travel on your way, moth. This is no affair of yours."

The fine prongs of Seer's claw bit into the shadow of my arm, and liquid-black beads welled up around the punctures. Her voice turned cold. "The Loyal Knight spoke your name before he succumbed to his wounds. He said it with such desperation. Such fear."

"Mind yourself," Dryya said, shortening the gap another inch. "A commoner is not meant to overstep."

"A commoner I may be," Seer whispered, "but not a fool. I know a beast slavering for the kill when I see one."

"Release that creature," Dryya ordered. "Now."

Seer paused. "No."

The Fierce Knight was a silver blur before Seer was even allowed the time to flinch. Though Seer's cream-streaked wings rippled with the intent of flight, they were no more useful in that instant than slabs of stone. The flat of the longnail fought through the air as Dryya brought it down, slapping Seer aside.

With a crunch, the nail took Seer by her shoulder. The force was great, but she did not relinquish her hold on my arm. Together we were sent tumbling over the painful stone. We came to rest in a whorl of colors torn from Seer's fur.

"Up, little larva, up," Seer coughed. She wobbled to her knees. "We must away!"

I did as I was bidden, even as the world continued to spin.

Dryya approached, her nail held to one side. There was no haste in her step.

Seer curled an arm up to cradle her shoulder. She spoke to me, low and fervent, as though confiding a secret. "I have not the strength to protect you, flight is a moth's only ploy. Hold tightly to me and I will—" but a hiss of stifled agony cut her short. She strained to look at the wings that hung from her back. They were bent at unnatural angles. Her breath hitched.

Strength.

The word echoed within me.

I have not the strength to protect you.

Seer stood on unsteady legs. She took my arm and guided me behind the screen of her broken wings. The liquid glimmer of her eyes was transfixing. "Listen. The sky is lost to me. Do as Ogrim asked, flee back to the Kingdom with all the speed you can muster. I will distract the Fierce Knight."

The order swelled in my chest, but this time it did not take purchase of me. Something ponderous and unformed rose up to contest Seer's will. It lacked the hard edges and incontrovertible purpose of a command, yet still bore a power that surmounted all else.

Are you frightened, little one? Hurt? Do not fear. Your King and his Royal Knights are here to protect you.

With effort, Seer straightened. Her voice carried in a rasp. "Fierce Knight, please, stop this! Are words so quick to fail?"

"Ha! Quick? This entire day I have trudged a tar field of words. I have long since depleted my patience for them. You will step away from that creature or you will suffer my nail. All the breath in your body will not change that."

The force within me magnified, bringing with it a terrible heat.

Little one—Little Knight… you proved your worth… You are ever a surprising one.

A tremor ran through Seer's frame. "I have saved this larva's life once already. I detest seeing my efforts wasted." Her chuckle rang toneless and hollow. With her uninjured arm, she shoved me away, toward the wall of greenery and the Kingdom beyond. "Go," she whispered.

But I did not move.

"What hero's game do you play at?" Dryya asked. "Begone from my sight! It is the fate of the weak to flee before the strong. Your kind should know this fact more keenly than any other."

The heat became a fire, and that fire a molten flood.

Is the King's civilization not a favorable thing? A place where the strong protect the weak instead of preying upon them…?

Seer pointed at Dryya with the Dream Nail. The blade rippled and sparked. "One of us must be the hero, if not you then me."

Dryya scoffed. "Blind intransigence assails me from all sides. I have had enough. If you seek to be my foe—" She twisted the longnail, bringing the cutting edge to bear. "—then I will honor you as such."

It felt as though I would be consumed by the inferno inside me, that my shell would burst and loose bubbling Void onto the stones.

Do you intend to make of me a butcher?

No… The opposite. I will save you from that end.

Dryya's pounding steps closed the distance. The longnail rose and fell in an attack that seemed to span ages. The metal of the blade did not flash in the light, so stained was it by the blood of beasts and Loyal Knights.

Seer did not recoil or shrink. She did not even swing the Dream Nail. She only braced her back and waited for the end.

The heat vanished. The roil stilled. And that unformed force crystallized.

The strong protect the weak.

My nail surged up to catch the killing blow. The fleeting, angry light of a hundred sparks splashed across Dryya's mask. Our blades locked, and for an instant there was only the stunned quiet of rattling metal.

Dryya let out a low growl. She leaned into the blade, forcing me back a step. "With every passing minute you fortify the truth of your deficiency. I see the will flickering in the depths of those eyes. It is something that I cannot allow."

But… you shall not prove… deficient. Do not fear…

I summoned my strength and pushed. The two nails shrieked in the struggle, but this time Dryya was the one to give ground. She ended the blade-lock with a deft flick and darted away.

"Of all the outcomes I anticipated, this was not amongst them," Dryya said as she settled into another stance. "But in a way, I am fortunate. No matter its need, execution is repugnant. By raising your nail, you have named yourself a warrior. I need feel no regret for ending you in battle."

Seer reached out with her crumpled arm and clutched at my cloak. "You must not do this," she hissed. "Flee. Survive. It is my wish, just as it is Ogrim's."

But I did not obey. Seer held no sway over me.

Dryya let out a dismissive noise. She circled around to my flank. "The Vessel will not heed you. It has made its first true choice—whatever that may be. Perhaps it hungers after the Soul in my shell. Perhaps it has incorporated something of Ogrim's lunacy. No matter the reason, it must be destroyed."

"You are no Great Knight," Seer spat, "you are a monster!"

"Presume all you like," Dryya laughed. "I do you a service beyond your understanding."

With that, the Fierce Knight vaulted into combat.

Unlike those leveled at Seer, this strike fell as a thunderbolt. I lifted my nail flat over my head, and the jolt of the impact nearly ripped it from my claws. Dryya followed with a wide, slow sweep from left to right, as though trying to fell an army and not a single foe. This time I did not block, and instead leapt back, crashing into Seer and bringing her to the ground. Dryya's nail whistled over us, and the wind of it rippled through Seer's fur.

I clambered up off the stone, nail ready, but Dryya did not immediately attack.

"It appears to be the latter," Dryya whispered. She let out a low sigh and waded forward.

Her next wave of attacks was oblique and exploratory, much like the pattern that she had employed against Ogrim. The blows came from every angle at every speed, probing my defenses without exposing her to counterattack. She exploited her height and the length of her nail to approach in ways that I could not easily block. I remained as close to Seer as I was able, but Dryya worked with every swing to separate us.

Nails clanged and the slow burn of exertion burrowed into my limbs. The blows that I could not evade inevitably collected on my person. Nicks marred my horns, and long slashes reduced my cloak to tatters.

Though none of my counter-strikes found Dryya's shell, the battle took a toll on her in a different way. Dryya's breathing lengthened, becoming unsteady and loud. The precision of her movements declined ever so minutely.

"It is a great power to be an unliving thing," Dryya panted. She took a few steps back and swallowed. "Only on the very brink of obliteration do you seem to tire. It has been but a few hours, and that wound on your chest has already sealed. Attrition will be no ally of mine."

Dryya dropped into a sudden crouch, one knee an inch from the ground, and then lunged, longnail leveled at my eye socket. I flinched to one side, but not before the blade caught the edge of my mask and rent it open. Dryya skidded to a stop several paces behind me, the tip of her nail coated in viscous darkness. Something cold streaked down my neck and shoulder, accompanied by a high, needling pain. I looked at the darkness dripping from the shredded flaps of my cloak.

With only a breath of pause, Dryya returned to a deep crouch and then lunged again, this time the nail pointed at my throat. I parried, running my own nail down the length of the blade. A ringing, almost melodious note carried through the air, echoing into the greenery and over the crater's edge.

As if in reply, there was a groan. Not from Seer or Dryya, but from Ogrim.

Dryya gave it no mind and continued her assault, bolting past me again and again, every time attempting to skewer me with her longnail. I evaded as best I could, but the act was all-absorbing. No opportunity to counter presented itself. She was simply too fast. Even in the scant seconds that she spent reorienting after a lunge, she was too far for me to reach.

Seer rose and stumbled over to Ogrim's side. The Dream Nail hung from her slack arm, its blade phasing partially into the ground. She collapsed as gracelessly as she had risen and prodded at Ogrim with her wounded arm. "Loyal Knight," she whispered. "Please wake."

But he hardly stirred.

The blur of the Fierce Knight shot past me again. In my distraction I was too slow to raise my nail. There was a sick, slicing sound, and I lurched from the weight of a blow that I did not feel. Dryya came to a halt some ways behind me, hunched and breathing hard. Her back was to me—a state of vulnerability that she had not yet shown. I readied a lunging strike of my own, but something was wrong.

I did not have my nail.

Or my arm.

Dryya planted her longnail into the stone and leaned on it. She gave me a look over her shoulder before lifting my nail high in the air. Still grasping the hilt was my severed arm, midnight liquid trickling from the cut. Dryya pried my arm loose and tossed it to the ground. Already, it was losing shape, melting like a sliver of ice in the sun. Dryya returned my shortnail—her shortnail—to the loop of her silken belt. "Isma was not mistaken when she proclaimed you mightiest amongst the Vessels. Not even a Great Knight would have endured this long." She took a moment to recover her breath. Spasms of fatigue racked her body. "But we have come to the end."

Seer's prodding grew frantic. She shook Ogrim's limp body from side to side, heedless of both their injuries. "You must wake, Loyal Knight, you must stand. She will kill the larva if you do nothing! You are this Kingdom's guardian, yes? Then fulfill that oath, rise!"

Ogrim's only response was incoherent muttering.

"Cease, moth," Dryya rasped. "Let Ogrim rest. He would not wish to witness what I must do." She turned, laboriously, and took a step toward me.

I watched my arm deliquesce until it was nothing but an opaque puddle. Yet the cut had been so perfect that I felt no pain from its loss, merely an absence—a hollowness. It was not unlike the sensation I had felt during my duel with Isma, after I unleashed that torrent of Soul upon her.

My heart tells me that I should end you. Here… Before your Void devours us all.

But now I possessed no Soul. I had failed to so much as scratch Dryya's shell. And even my nail was lost to me. I was defenseless.

what is Void but a weapon? As quick to cut friend as foe…

Dryya dragged the longnail behind her, as if its weight had magnified many times over. Once within range, she heaved the blade up and readied a decapitating blow.

"Stop!" Seer screeched. She was standing now, the sparkling beacon of the Dream Nail high over her head. "Stay your strike Fierce Knight, or I will be given no other choice but to act!"

"And what do you hope to accomplish?" Dryya tilted her head, just enough for a sidelong glance. "Will you lay me low with that gaudy lantern? By your own words, it has no such power."

"It may not cut your shell, but if you force my claw, then what I unleash may prove irrevocable!"

"Do not. Threaten me," Dryya breathed. "I have showered you with warnings, but this is the last. If you interfere then you will die."

Dryya swung the longnail at my neck.

But something woke within me, not the sweet warmth of Soul, but the antithesis; a fitful, gnashing thing, born of the need to consume.

The ragged stump of my shoulder twitched and bubbled. The gnashing thing within sought an escape from the prison of my form, and I could not deny it. I lifted my stump toward Dryya, and with a wet rending noise, a flood of umbral tendrils spilled from the wound.

The Fierce Knight had no time to counter, no time to escape. She managed half a gasp before being engulfed.

The tendrils scourged her body, cracking the silvered plating and the shell beneath. They encircled her right arm, wringing viciously. There was a shriek of metal as Dryya's arm broke in three places. But even then, she did not relinquish the longnail.

Euphoria took me. The tendrils siphoned Dryya's Soul through her fractured limb and filled my emptiness more completely than anything I had ever felt.

With an impossible strength, the tendrils lifted Dryya off the ground. She struggled in terrible silence, clawing at them even as one closed around her throat.

"Larva how a-are you—S-Stop. Stop this!"

Someone far away was calling to me, but the song of Dryya's Soul drowned it out. I reached up with my remaining arm and slipped the shortnail from Dryya's belt. The ravening urge was undeniable. I required every scrap of Soul that Dryya could offer. The more severe her wounds, the faster I would absorb. I prepared to slice her from neck to stomach.

"Little Knight?"

Another voice. Someone else, lost in the blissful deluge. At first, hunger pushed it aside, but there was an insistence to it. The reverberations of that voice plucked at me, and I turned my head. Beyond the screen of writhing black tendrils, propping himself up on weakened arms, was Ogrim.

"Little Knight… is that you?" His words were thick and slurred. He shook his head. "What are you doing?"

Little one, do you know nothing of sparring?!… When you approach a fellow Knight in the yard… you exercise restraint… Sparring is the act of bettering one another through gallant combat, one nail sharpening the other…

I looked back to Dryya. Her life was slowly ebbing away. She thrashed uselessly in the air, her legs kicking at nothing, scrabbling for a hold that they would not find.

My nail clanged against the stone. The song of Dryya's Soul was cut short as the tendrils unwound from her limbs. The hunger screamed defiance, but I retracted the tendrils into the ruin of my arm. Unsteadily, I stepped back, exercising restraint…

Dryya collapsed to her knees, coughing and wheezing. Despite the river of Soul that I had drained, she still clung to consciousness. The plating on her right arm was like a collage of shattered glass. The longnail rested loosely in her grip. "Ve-Vessel?" She fought through a spike of pain. "Why?"

But I had no answer.

A guttural noise fought its way up her throat. "You husk. You flawed shell! You damnable VOID!" She staggered to her feet and swapped the longnail to her unbroken arm. "Accept your death! You are not meant to exist!" With the last vestiges of her strength, Dryya thrust.

"Dryya, wait!"

"Stop! I said STOP!"

The longnail pierced my mask. With it came an explosion of white, and the world was swept away.