A/N:
Hello! So, this is what I've been working for during Invisobang for the last couple of months! This is the secret I mentioned on my blog and during the end of Passion. I'm excited to finally get this story out into the world. This will have a once a week release schedule, on Saturdays, so I have time to continue writing other things while working on editing this up. It's all done, I just have to punch it into reading shape.
The story is ~125,000 words, yes I know, a lot. Still, that's shorter than Passion right returning readers?
The alternate timeline aside, this is set in the Zone in the perspective of someone whose lived there their entire life, so there's a lot of Ghost only terminology and culture. Expect it to read like a fantasy novel.
I'll have warnings at the beginning of each chapter for specific things that come up, but keep the rating in mind when thinking of violence. This starts lighter and gets heavier as it goes. Same with the themes re: child abuse. Skulker's a good egg, but their family...
I would also like to do my usual spiel of telling new readers, and old guests, that I'm super open to all kinds of comments. Don't like something? Feel free to tell me! Notice a formatting error? Go on and point it out! Just want to chat and speculate? Be my guest and have fun with your fellow fandom members. I reply to all readers, welcome all constructive feedback, so don't feel shy. If you don't have much to say or feel anxious, don't feel pressured! However, I promise it's very fun here in my comment section. :3 See you at the bottom!
Story Warnings:
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Gore(Animal Butchering), Gore(Dismemberment), Description of Graphic Injuries, Graphic Violence, Attempted Murder, (Minor)Character Death, Major Character Death(temporary), Abusive Birth Family, Religious Themes.
Chapter Warnings:
Ghost Death(animal), Ghost Dismemberment(animal), Religious Ritual, Implied Child Abuse, Implied Child Neglect
Chapter Title:
Sylvan: (literary) consisting of or associated with woods; wooded.
Free Territories, Fae Wilds
12th of Aperi, 103rd year of Emperor Kairos
The energy of the forest settled into a dull roar inside their core, the music of every ghost in the area transforming into pleasant hum of white noise that buzzed beneath their skin. In this part of the season, the melody lacked the frantic thrum of growing ecto-signatures, but the call of emergence had begun ringing above the deeper tones of hibernation. Renewal would arrive soon, bringing with it bursts of fresh life and great hunting.
They floated above the creek, taking in the thrush and bushes near the water's edge and the buds of fresh growth along the otherwise bare limbs of the reeds and trunks. The ice released its grip on the landscape two cycles past. The first rushes of warmth melted the soil into a mix of thick muck and enriching peat, and their territory would be a riot of color and fruits in only a few turns. Their part of the Wilds recovered from the depths of Fallow faster than other areas just a few Nova Arcs to the East. A consequence of their efforts in conservation. The locals over-harvested their Shimmerbuds and Moldering Mats, or worse, burned them.
Attempts to tell the villagers how to better manage the local ecology failed to crack through the stubborn adherence to destructive traditions. It continuously irked the fools that they had to move every hundred returns or so, after depleting the land, but it never occurred to the hollow-cored bumpkins that their methods of agriculture were the cause. They'd spent more time undoing the damage of ignorant peasants than hunting these cycles, in order to coax some of the best prey into the area.
They moved down the length of the river bank, tracing the fading energy trails of their current quarry at a sluggish pace. They kept an eye on the awakening woods looking for the sparkling energy of spotted hoppers or a migration of spectral flutters. Their return would herald the true start of Renewal, and in the cycles immediately afterward, it'd be the best opportunity to hunt some juvenile fanged webbed-foot vilecoons. The closest villages paid a hefty price for the pelts, and they needed to buy some herbs in Fekunda soon.
They drifted away from the river's surface, tracking the grouse with more focus now that the trail had cooled. It meandered around this bush a thrice count of swirls ago, so they might as well give the hunt more attention. They pushed through the post-thaw mush of decaying detritus and sucking mud and moved aside a few twigs, revealing the direction of their chase's path through the underbrush. Odd. It wasn't bothering to fly… a dragging wing. An injured bird. They groaned. Only the labyrinthine psyche of Nimble-Minded Prince could conceive of a more Faint-thing to hunt. The targets better improve later in Renewal. They lowered their energy signature's intensity as they detected the pumping thrum of the grouse a dozen arm spans away.
They rounded a group of trees into a clearing, and spotted the pathetic creature picking at some weeds and bare brush near the base of an Emberwillow. The drifting streamers of vines had yet to ignite into the sprays of reds and magenta they would in mid-renewal, but the drooping foliage gave their prey partial cover. Or, it would if they were not such an accomplished shot. They drew back their bow, notching an arrow, and sighting it across the scant distance. The creak of the weapon building energy for their attack got the creature's attention. Too late. It flapped up into the air, uncoordinated, slow, and listing to one side. The most interesting thing about this grover grouse was how little noise it made as it Ended. The squeak it gave off as it plummeted from the nova swirls and crashed into the upper branches of the Emberwillow trees was pathetic. The first hunt of the return, a whimper instead of a bang.
They sighed as they collected their prize from between the eager mouths of the Violet Snapper vines waking up from Fallow hibernation. At least the vine buds have more fight in them than that grouse. A good sign for a vigorous Renewal to come. One of the buds clamped down around their wrist. It hadn't grown teeth yet. "Excited to get some meat after a Fallow without?" They tied the floppy animal to their belt and tapped the closest bud with the curve of their bow. "You'll get some, I'm sure, but this catch is mine." The vine's open buds hissed at them and started snapping more aggressively, energy singing of frustration for a potential meal denied. "The season has only begun, be patient." They floated up and looked down at this grove of Emberwillows, eyes taking in the state of their bark, the canopy cover, and the thickness of their limbs with contentment. It looks like that anti-fungal treatment I applied last Harvest worked. They didn't need Powdered Ashbark spreading through the rest of the territory. The last time that happened, because they'd been away on business before they noticed the infection, it'd taken a full two returns to clear out the resulting Chittering Emerald-Beetle infestation. The memory summoned up an unvoiced desire to groan. They'd been clearing out the remains of those leatherwork wreckers from their supplies just last Cultivate. At least, they were sure the best pelts wouldn't be munched through this return.
They flew away from the grove, towards the base of the mountains that rimmed the edge of their territory to the West. They glanced down at the grouse, taking in its pattern of Verta and Purpura with distant interest. It was an unusual coloration for grover grouse in this area of the Wilds, especially in this section of the season. They'd prefer something with more Nigregra, maybe entirely so, but first hunts were first hunts. They hoped Theros would be pleased with the offering regardless.
The forest grew sparse and then absent, the thick canopy replaced by marsh grasses and then meadow as the mountains grew nearer. This early into Renewal, the area nearest the mountains were more mud and rocks than plant life, but they knew in a dek-cycle the entire area would be covered in a low carpet of blue grasses and shoots of Silver-moon blossoms. They sensed the slumbering slow thumps of the Silver-moon roots spread out over the entire meadow, more than pleased the crop would meet expectations for delivery without overtaxing the root system. The chief of Splotostry asked for a larger order of Silver-moon this return. Looks like the dye trade has picked up. They slowed to a stop above a still frozen pound, frowning down at it. The big-mouthed bubblers inside should have broken through the surface to make open hunting holes by now. A quick glance across the area showed none of the other pounds had hunting holes either.
They sighed. They thought some of the villagers from Nigregrzbiet had been poaching when they'd left for Komercista Valo to handle that escaped Fandado Fendego Blob-catcher, but this proved it. They knew that Fallow was especially harsh across the Eastern Expanse in Ĉiamdaŭra because of the new state taxes, but...They put it out of their mind for the moment. They could investigate the state of the bubbler population after they made a proper offering for the start of Renewal.
They navigated through an outcropping of rocks, and landed in front of a shallow cave, a veil of Renewal snow-melt from higher up the mountains rushing past the opening. They let the refreshing, chilly waters bathe them, washing away grit and the impurities of the outside world as they held up a hand with ecto-energy. The glow washed the inside of the cove in an electric-green that bounced off the polished walls and concentrated on the altar in the center. They flew the final few spans to the altar, before kneeling as they removed the grouse from their belt. They reached into a pouch on the other side of their body, pulling out crimson berries and a large gourd they'd gathered from the first fruiting plants of the season. They set the offerings near the altar and began preparing the stock of kindling and logs they'd left nearby to light a fire. After the wood was prepared, they took out of knife and carved the skin away from the grouse, carefully carving out the best of the organs and primary feathers off of the carcass to set on top of the logs. It was soon joined by the gourd, carved into fourths, and the berries. They picked up a set of stones set near the altar and struck them, sparks flying away into the dark. The Flameroots did their job, quickly catching fire and spreading it to the Wraith Bramble wood. The logs flashed into green fire and swiftly settled into black with bright green tips as was proper.
They lowered their head and raised their hands, closing their eyes as the flames licked over their offering with the haste of heat hungry to be fed. "I, Hippolytus Panthḗrain, come before you Theros to honor and thank you for the fruits of a good hunt. As Renewal comes upon the Zone once more, I ask for your blessings and for your wisdom so I may guide the lands under my protection for the return to come." They stopped and reached into another pocket on their belt for the last offering, the core the Ŝtalbane Wyvern they'd hunted at the end of Malĝojo. "To Odiphlaxus, Lord of the Beyond, I offer this as thanks for safe crossing of one return to the next. May you guide the essence of all I hunt safely to the Beyond to complete the cycle." They placed the core onto the flames, and pressed their hands together. "The lands to my west suffer from famine and imbalance. Their lack leads them to plunder that which doesn't belong to them. I ask for your Mercy for their ignorance, and pray that you stretch out your hand to relieve some of their people's pain." They shift away from the blaze, far enough they can bow completely in front of the altar. "I pray once more that the abundance within your power flows through this domain for this return, and all others to come." They wait a moment as their words fade into echoes in the shallow cave. In flash, the flames spark gold, and then settle into the two-tone shades of green that represented both Odiphlaxus and Theros's acceptance.
They smiled. The Ritual of Renewal went well this return. They waited as the fire consumed the offering, lips quirking as they remembered a time seven retuns ago the Divine hadn't been pleased. Their own fault, bad habits always caught the Divine's ire. A Renewal with torrential rain was enough of an inconvenience the first two times it happened thank you! The flames licked away at the last of the offering, and the whole of it snuffed out in a single instant, as if a great gust of wind had snatched it away. They cleared the firepit of the altar and set everything to right for the next time they would arrive. They needed to get more Flameroots, but they'd be growing all over the mountain slopes in the coming cycles. They had more than enough Wraith wood to last until Cultivate, but the grove they'd planted when they'd come to this part of the Wilds wouldn't be ready to harvest for another dek-du Crossings. They were stuck with trading for it in Drazi for a while longer.
They flew back under the waterfall shielding the cave from the rest of the Zone with a huff. They'd prefer to get it from Arachtalamh directly, but those damn dragons were as strict about export as ever. Perhaps if Uther ever passes the crown to an heir, when the agreements are renegotiated… Sure in another three hundred returns, or never with the way that old specter keeps lingering. They swung over the nearest pond and hovered closer to the surface. From here they could sense the bubblers inside and groaned. All of the largest adult males were missing, and the ghostlings trapped underneath couldn't make holes on their own. They'd starve without a way to circulate some energy into the water soon. They resisted the urge to curse the peasants across the Expanse for making their Renewal harder, and got to work carving holes to the surface with their sharpest knife. There were at least kvarodekdu to check before they traveled home.
In the end, they'd spent a quarter of a cycle poking holes in still frozen pounds, and pouring extra energy into the most feeble looking areas. When the thaw began in earnest, and the plains flooded, the low lying lakes formed wouldn't be balanced if the entire bubbler population crashed from their ghostlings dying now. They rubbed at the juncture of their shoulder and clavicle on the left side, the area still ached after wrestling that blob-catcher a season back. They should have charged more for the job since it was twice as large as reported and in the middle of digesting half of the other exotic pet exports. They'd spent even longer resuscitating the merchants half-Ended supplies after subduing the catcher, and it'd slowed down their healing.
Worse, they hadn't had any Rookroot fungus to help the torn energy lines heal, since that fire in the south had eaten away all of the best gathering areas for the Free Territories. They were not about to head all the way to Lenaindros just for some Rookroot. At least, not when time would work just as well, if they avoided overusing that section of their energy flow for another monato or so. The workout at the ponds would set them back, but maybe only a cycle or so. There wouldn't be much to hunt before they finished healing anyway; so hopefully, if they relaxed the rest of early Renewal, they'd in top condition by the time they needed to harvest the Silver-moon blossoms.
They took a wider arc to their lair than usual, wanting to take in as much of the land as possible on the way home. They'd wanted to do two patrols when they'd set out, but with the way their left arm ached, it would have to wait until eston-cycle. They swept over the creeks threading through the land that fed into the largest river. Each one was once again flowing freely, but the banks were still bare of growth, appropriate for the season. The river lead into a large lake, and a quick circuit around the area showed it filling its banks. It, and the river, would spill into the plains near the mountains soon to wake up the marshes. Satisfied with this part of their territory's development, they banked left, heading back towards home.
Flying over the river back to the east, the spotted a bright Lazura glow in the distance that caused them pause. Their eyebrows scrunched as they took in the glow, trying to imagine what could be lit up like a Kharinos festival. They sighed when nothing readily came to mind, and sent up a prayer that it wasn't a brush fire in the Pulsing Windbreakers. They burned blue, without smoke, but the fires would be out of season and likely started by some more hollow-cored bumpkins trying to make new grazing lands. As they drew closer, the glow grew brighter, but not hotter, and the worries about it being due to flames abated. Now more curious than annoyed, they flew closer until they came to the clearing carrying the glow.
Inside, Treacle Brier was in full bloom, casting the entire area in a cerulean glow that hummed with the calm sweetness characteristic of the plants. They whistled as they looked around the area; the patch of the flowers dwarfed the largest they'd seen last return, and to be blooming so vigorously this early in Renewal was unusual. They leaned down to examine the spread of blooms covering the ground in bunches and swept their hand through the velvet petals. The soil beneath their roots was vital and healthy, no signs of stress from overgrowth or depletion of the area of ecto-energy. They leaned back, puzzled at what had brought on the sudden intense display, and turned to take in the rest of the field of flowers. They blinked when they sensed the core in the center of the largest clump of Brier. It was much too complex to be an animal's, but the energy was still unlike complex ghosts.
They drew closer to the patch of earth with the unusual energy, and quirked a brow as the group of flowers began wiggling. They leaned over it and teased the flowers out of the tangle of, currently, thorn-less vines they'd made in the center of the patch. No sooner had they dislodged the Treacle than a pair of electric-green, true Verta, eyes stared back at them. Damn. It was some kind of complex ghost. Worse, it looked like a ghostling. The little creature startled and half-tangled itself back into the flowers. Pathetic. "What are you—", they cut off their question when they got a closer look at the ghostling's condition. Puffy eyes, tear-streaked face, translucent complexion, and naked as the cycle it was formed. What in the Antlered One's name was a naked ghostling doing in the middle of a Treacle Brier field? Treacle Brier...Cradle Blossom. Oh, Divine's grace, that's not funny. They frowned down at the ghostling as it began fussing more loudly, big sparkling tears leaking out if its eyes. No. They were not dealing with this. "Ghostling, where are your guardians?" The babe stuck out its, a boy perhaps, lips and wailed louder. Odiphlaxus's Grace, they disliked ghostlings of complex ghosts. At least animalia kind had the excuse of being unable to use Common Spectral to explain all the whining noises. "Stop that." The command failed to do anything to cease the blubbering coming from the ghostling, so they took a deep breath and calmed their nerves. Ghostlings were sensitive. He, they were sure it was a male cored ghost now, could sense their annoyance or frustration and would be agitated because of it.
"Boy, calm down." They frowned when the words failed to settle the child once more, and put more placid energy behind this next request. "Ghost child, you must calm down. You're wasting energy with all of that crying." They leaned down, placing them closer to its eye level. The change in position, or perhaps the flow of their energy, got the creature's attention, and the crying turned into hiccups. It reached up for them, with wide still tear-filled eyes, and they resisted the urge to groan. They would not be picking the ghostling up if it could be helped. "Are you calmer now?" The child didn't answer and instead twisted partially out of the plants to reach for them again. They allowed it, sending a wave of calm through their energy when its tiny palm collided with their pants-covered knee. It toddled closer, still oddly inarticulate.
"Please, don't tell me you're too young to understand Spectral." That would be beyond inconvenient. It would be a tragedy on par of the slaying the previous Emperor or the burning of the Ancient Azure Glen, or, even worse, the time that Karnomanĝulo Valego Phoenix escaped from their trap. "Boy, do you know where you are?" Unlikely, but worth asking regardless.
"Buh?"
"Thank Theros you can speak." They sighed as the ghostling extricated himself from the Brier by pulling on their pants. Separated from the blooms, it looked even more pallid and unwell than before, its glow dull and wavering. They sent of pulse of energy through the ghostling's form and winced when they realized the state of its energy reserves. It—he, ghostlings outside of the Clan don't have to earn—"Have you eaten recently?" They already knew the answer, but they needed to know how well it understood Spectral.
"Buh...eat?"
"Yes, food." The ghostling stared up at them, looking bewildered. Maybe the lack of energy was scrambling i-his core's memories. They reached into a pocket and handed the ghostling a hunk of jerky. They didn't know what it was made of, but it shouldn't be poisonous. Well, it shouldn't be from a creature most other ghosts couldn't consume, their immunity to various poisons notwithstanding. The boy took the piece of meat and licked it. His already big eyes somehow widened, and he shoved the whole of it into his mouth, filling the area with the sound of smacking lips and happy pulses of joyful energy.
"Food?" He looked up at them, and they handed it another hunk of jerky. That seemed to excite him, and it chirped as it chewed on the new piece of food. They grabbed their canteen and thought of convincing the ghostling to drink. The water would energize him faster than breaking down the ectoplasm in the jerky.
"Here," they opened the cap and tipped some into the dumbfounded looking ghostling's open mouth. He blinked rapidly as the energy from the canteen soaked into its system, and then made grasping motions for the metal bottle. They carefully emptied more of the water into the child's mouth, but stopped before it had drained more than a quarter. Too much at once would overwhelm his exhausted system. "You can have more later," they explained as his eyes started to take on the worrisome shine of threatening more tears. "You haven't answered: where are your guardians?" The ghostling just blinked up at them, and made another grab for the canteen. "No." They sighed when it pulled himself to standing using their pants and reached up for the water again. This was not working. "Where are you from?"
"Buh…" It blinked a few times, and pursed his lips while scrunching up his eyebrows. Then, the ghostling pointed down.
"What?" As if they could just miss someone moving into their territory long enough to spawn. "You don't live here. Your village: what is it called?"
"ill-ag?"
"Yes, your home." The ghostling stopped reaching for the water, scrunching up his face impressively for something that tiny. "Do you not remember?"
"'Member?"
"Fantastic." Communicating with a ghostling this young was always challenging, but one with core damage or something similar would be impossible. Its energy felt odd, but its core seemed tired, not damaged. The feelings were distinct after all, and they were too skilled to mistake the two. Perhaps it has consumed something poisonous, and it's interfering with memory retrieval? "Have you eaten anything other than what I gave you?"
"Buh…"
"Other food." They wave another piece of jerky around, and it seems to finally get through.
"No." So that wasn't it. Or maybe he thought they meant had he eaten jerky before. So complicated. The Divine shouldn't have allowed ghosts to invent Spectral, then they wouldn't be in this situation.
"Food in mouth before this?" The ghostling made that scrunched face again, and looked up at them with empty, innocent eyes. They weren't sure they could dumb the question down any further.
"Mouth?" it pointed to its mouth, and thank the Divine, they were getting somewhere.
"Yes."
"No." Well, that's great, back to no leads. They sighed and ran a hand through their hair. "Food?" He reached up for the jerky again, and they dropped it into its dirty little hand.
"How long have you been—" No. That wouldn't work. The boy likely didn't understand time. They pointed at the sky. "Green." The ghostling looked up at them and chewed on the jerky. They stayed pointing at the sky. How could I ask the next bit? "Was the sky ever not green?"
"Yes." So, it'd been at least a cycle since the boy had gotten here. It couldn't be longer than two; it wouldn't survive that long without energy or shelter in the Wilds. The thaw had been two cycles back, but they'd patrolled the entire length of their territory all yestercycle to check the thaws progress.
"Been here," they pointed down at the flowers, "the entire time the sky changed colors?"
"Yes." The ghostling started licking his hands, and they winced. The soil here could have Olive Pox in it.
"Don't do that." They reached down and grabbed the boy's hands, rummaging through their supplies for a rag. They wet it and scrubbed the earth from its fingers as they thought through their options. It was getting late, and the nearest village was a cycle's flight away from this part of the Wilds. More than that for most ghosts, which is how they preferred it. Now, though, that meant there was no way to get them to 'civilization' before the cyclespring. "Do you know what happened to your guardians?" The boy just stared again. "Mommy? Daddy?" They asked, a little desperate to get some clue out of the little ghost.
"Buh?" It seemed that sound signaled confusion. Great. He blinked up at them and then poked at his cleaned hands and flexed them like it was the most interesting sensation he'd ever experience. Skulker was beginning to suspect it might, and tales of Divine Foundlings started circling through their core. They looked up at the Novas swirling above them, taking in their shade to gauge the time.
"It seems I don't have a choice for the cycle. You're coming home with me." The ghostling didn't react to the statement, but wobbled after them when they started to float away. Less than a swirl later, the creature was whining loudly. When they looked back, they realized it was over an armspan behind and realized it, he, either couldn't fly or couldn't do it fast enough to keep up. With a groan, they flew over and picked up the child, patience for the situation running dangerously thin. This close, they could feel the weak pulse of the ghostling's tired core buffeting them with unfiltered childish emotions. They suppressed the desire to put him down. They'd never get home at that rate.
They flew the last few Nova Arcs lairward imagining being able to drop the sticky—Divine's Grace why—wiggling ghostling on the rug in their living room. Finally, the outcropping of rocks that represented the edges of their "yard" came into view, and they sighed in relief. The boy had started poking them and asking for food a few swirls ago, and they'd considered dropping it in a creek and being rid of it entirely. Still, they thought landing softly on the lush loam making up the soil of their herb garden, it's only for the purpurtide. Come morrowtide, I'm going to track down its guardians or village and be rid of it. They leaned down and set the wriggling child into the dirt and started towards the front door. They'd unlocked it, only to toss a knife to jam the teeth of one of the traps the ghostling had blundered into. "Stay." They gruffed and pointed at the spot in the dirt they'd first set him.
They flew inside and set down their supplies, and took a quick look around the interior, finding it just as they'd left it this cyclespring. Satisfied their lair was unmolested, at least for now, they went back outside. At least the child is capable of listening to some instructions. "The path to the house is well-guarded. Don't try to go through it without me." Why were they bothering to explain this?
They leaned down and scoped up the child, recognizing it would be much faster than trying to guide it through the traps. Soon, they were back inside the living room, and the ghostling was dumped back onto the ground. They looked towards the fireplace with some apprehension. They preferred their lair cold, colder than most ghosts. It kept their senses sharper. However, this season of return it was still far colder than ghosts without a cold core found comfortable without a roaring fireplace. For a ghostling, the effect was likely enhanced, especially while tired and hungry. They drifted towards the fire pit and began preparing to light it. "Stay where I put you." They called over their shoulder when they felt the ghostling start to wander around. "There's things you shouldn't touch everywhere." Katadesmos help them deliver the message clearly to the little brat. They started the kindling and began stoking the logs back into open flame.
"Food," the boy whined, wobbling in place on the floor when they glanced behind them.
"I heard you the first deku-du times, ghostling." They finished getting the fire into a condition it could sustain itself and turned back to the child on the floor. A longer look at the ghostling's condition showed the wobbling was shivering, and they picked the boy up and set him in front of the fire. "Stay. I'll bring food." They made their way into the kitchen, sure their chilly guest would at least stay near the fire to remain warm.
When they returned, the boy was laying on the ecto-bob pelt in front of the fire, eyes drifting closed and then blinking open, clearly fighting sleep. They didn't think it was late enough to warrant rest, but they weren't a parent. Maybe ghostlings slept like this? They set the plate full of fresh Renewal fruits and piece of aged cheese in front of the child. "Food," they explained.
The child groped for the plate with their eyes closed, seemingly trying to eat while sleeping. He hummed when he managed to shove a piece of kadarva fruit in his mouth and chew on it. That piece was soon followed by another, and then a handful of pop-fizz berries. That caused his eyes to shoot open as he bit down, and he poked at the plate of food. "Buh?"
"Those." They pointed at the round, red fruit.
"Yay!" The child then shoved another handful in his mouth, and started bouncing in place. The open excitement gave them flashes of nostalgia, core drifting back to their first taste as ghostling. The wiggling picked up, and despite having babysitting duty foisted upon them, the sight was amusing. The plate was emptied quickly, and soon the babe was licking it, chasing down the fruit juices. He scrubbed his hands on his eyes and looked around the room, now that there was no food to distract him.
They grabbed the plate and set it in the sink in the kitchen. By the time they'd returned, the ghostling had fallen asleep on the pelt in front of the fire. They considered just leaving it there until the morrowtide, but realized he could wake up and start being a bother while they worked to update their maps. With a sigh, they picked the limp child off the floor and began heading towards the only guest room they maintained in their lair. Well, not really a guest room, but a storage room with furs on the floor would do for the purpurtide.
A moment later, they'd kicked the door to the room open, and deposited the child onto the furs, stopping only long enough to wrap it up so it couldn't easily extricate himself and cause more headaches. If the Divine were kind, the ghostling would sleep until the next morrowtide.
A/N:
Welcome to the bottom, dear reader! Skulker has run into a surprise baby in a flower patch! Unlucky them!
Some definitions for terms I think are a little more obscure in the text:
Dek-du: 12/dozen. While this is the direct definition, twelve is a holy number in the Zone with inherent connection to the overwhelming power of the Divine, and so it's sometimes used as an intensifier or expression of a general large number the same way we might say "a million billion" sarcastically.
Kvarodekdu: 42
I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter and are interested in following along for the long haul! Once again, updates are planned for every Saturday until the story is over. Can't wait that long for more updates to this and my other fanfics? You're more than welcome to follow my creative blog, where you'll find Previews, Excerpts from future chapters, Meta, Lore posts, and more!
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See you soon, and as always my lovelies, have a great rest of the week!