Chapter 7: Flux and Flow

An ink-stained brush, its bristles frayed and unkempt, glided across an expansive blank canvas, cutting through a sea of white. Its movements were slow yet calculated, meandering across the canvas. Its trails formed increasingly complex shapes, each stroke mingling with another. Streaks of royal purple accompanied splotches of green and dashes of gold, imbuing the developing image with liveliness and intricacy.

The brush then dipped away from the canvas, pausing its journey. At first glance, it seemed as if the canvas was haphazardly bombarded with a menagerie of colors, clashing and bleeding into one another. Upon closer inspection, however, each individual hue seemed to play its own role, forming a visual symphony. Shapes, abstract and jagged, were arranged into impossible structures - a form of organized chaos, reflecting both the vibrant infrastructure of Mixopolis and the nature of its inhabitants. An abstract caricature of the Cubit's Cradle Tower served as the centerpiece, towering above all the others with the unmistakable two-pronged crescent adorning its tip.

And yet, something seemed amiss, at least through its creator's eyes. She set down the brush atop the easel, her eyes boring into the painting. Subconscious thoughts gnawed away at her mind, urging her to embellish the piece further. Try as she might, however, nothing came to mind, which only heightened her irritation.

Unless…

Gears turning in her mind like a well-oiled Klinker contraption, the Glorp Corpian felt a fresh wave of slime oozing down her wings. As if by second nature, she reached behind, scooping up copious, dripping mounds of sludge. In fluid, seamless motions, using her own claws as makeshift brushes, she began decorating the canvas with streaks of her slime, its fluorescent green striking against the more muted shades of the landscape. Though she painted with great enthusiasm, she was also aware of the importance of limiting herself; too much slime would tarnish even the most well-crafted piece.

Her arms moved as if possessed, her mind in a trance-like state. Smears and dashes of ooze dotted the painting, accenting outlines of buildings and adding a newfound layer of depth. After uncounted minutes, the Glorp Corpian stepped away, taking in all of the details once more. Flits of bright green now dotted the sky in elaborate patterns, dripped down edges of skyscrapers, and decorated the great arches atop the Cubit's Cradle. She was too modest to admit it to others, but she took great pride in her techniques. As it turned out, slime made for a remarkably effective equivalent to paint. Some would call it avant-garde or unorthodox, but she personally saw it as quite innovative.

She exhaled a sigh of relief. At long last, it was complete. She had spent weeks trying to perfect every iota of this particular piece, attempting to recreate it flawlessly time and time again. She had long since lost count of the amount of easels she'd gone through. Now, seeing her vision fully realized, it was as if a massive weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She turned her gaze to the breathtaking view of Mixopolis' skyline before her, now captured near-perfectly in her latest creation.

From a young age, Myxomie had always been allured by the arts, particularly painting. Maybe it was her fascination with the intricacies and nuances of the works of great artists she pored over day after day, or the way all other thoughts seemed to ebb away the moment she picked up a brush. Either way, she felt an unparalleled sense of tranquility when painting, feeling as if she was one with her brush, bringing her imagination into reality.

The sound of a screen door sliding open suddenly caught her attention. Myxomie turned around to see Oleanda, her roommate, casually strutting onto the balcony.

"How's that painting going? You've been chipping away at it for a while now," Oleanda said, her vines trailing behind her as she walked.

Myxomie's face immediately lit up. "Ollie! Perfect timing! I've just finished the piece!" she chirped, grabbing the canvas and whirling it around to face the Noxiflorr in a single fluid motion. "So, what do you think? It looks great, doesn't it?"

Oleanda carefully examined the piece, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Myxomie simply waited for her response, her eyes wide and expectant. As her closest friend, Oleanda's opinions on her art were held in higher regard than anyone else's. Despite living in the Noxious Groves for most of her life, the floral Mixel had developed an artist's touch as well, which had delighted Myxomie when they had first met. No piece had gone unfinished without Oleanda being invited to look over it.

Oleanda thoughtfully hummed as her eyes traveled down the canvas, then up again. Myxomie's grin grew wider, her foot lightly bouncing with anticipation. No matter how many canvases she went through, she still felt the same rush when showing off her latest masterpiece to her personal judge.

"It's good, but…" Oleanda began, pausing to scan over the painting one final time, taking in every splotch of color, every minute detail. Her gaze rose to meet Myxomie's as she took a step back from the canvas.

"I think you could do better."

Myxomie's smile instantly dissipated. She remained silent for several moments, processing her roommate's words, turning them in her head over and over. Her eyes slowly shifted to the painting, the one she had put hours of effort into, the one she had taken so long to perfect, then back to Oleanda.

"What…what do you mean?" she finally asked, her initial confidence snuffed out like a soaked Bonflower.

"Don't worry, it's not a bad painting by any means. It's a very pleasant picture, actually," Oleanda explained, her tone level. "It just doesn't…feel like you, y'know?"

The Glorp Corpian frowned. "I still don't understand."

Oleanda softly sighed. "Whenever I see your works, I can feel this unique vibe from them, y'know? I can sense your creative spirit in them, the effort you've put into each one. They're vibrant, colorful, a little bit ostentatious – like you. Except for this." She gestured toward the painting, the tip of her vine inches away from the peak of the illustrated Cubit's Cradle. "I don't feel that way with this. It just feels ordinary."

Myxomie wasn't entirely sure how to respond. She had never received such feedback on any of her works, not even from her family. Granted, it wasn't the worst criticism she'd received – she had learned the hard way Oleanda was capable of dishing out far worse – but the words still felt like a sledgehammer to her chest. She hadn't once considered that she might have been losing her unique flair in her pursuit of perfection. It did nothing to diminish her pride, though. As far as she was concerned, it was her magnum opus, and as much as she tried to conceal it, she couldn't deny how disheartening it was to hear that all of her effort was simply not good enough.

A vine snaked its way onto Myxomie's shoulder, derailing her train of thought. She turned to meet Oleanda, her smile soft and understanding. She felt her worries begin to ebb away, albeit gradually. From the day they moved in together, the girls' personalities had complemented each other perfectly. Myxomie brought glamor and excitement to Oleanda's life, never failing to make her smile or laugh; likewise, Oleanda was there to bring Myxomie's ambitions back down to earth or support her when her emotions got out of control. That look she always gave her, the one she gave her now, never failed to put her at ease.

"You're a great artist, Myxomie," Oleanda said. "I know you are. I just want to help you be the best you can be, alright?"

Myxomie's distraught expression faded away as if a switch were suddenly flipped, a smile creeping up her face. "I know," she replied. "I guess you have a point. I've gone through, what, six drafts of that landscape piece alone? Maybe I've gotten a little too caught up in the process."
"True. Or maybe it's because you've been drawing nothing but skyscrapers for the past four weeks," the Noxiflorr wryly replied.

Myxomie glanced at the paintings lining the sides of the balcony. As it was effectively her unofficial art studio, she took care in decorating it with her latest creations – she believed they helped draw out her creative spirit when occupied with her art. Sure enough, the balcony was now adorned with depictions of various skyscrapers of all shapes, colors and sizes, the majority decorated with bright green slime. Certainly attractive, but a little boring, now that she thought about it.

"I guess I have," the Glorp Corpian chuckled. "Gots any suggestions for something new?"
"Maybe a change in scenery would do you some good. When I lived in the groves, some of my best inspirations came from outside it. You can only paint forests for so long before you start to either go bored or mad."

Myxomie perked up, her interest piqued. She had grown so accustomed to the tranquil atmosphere of her balcony that she had barely considered the possibility of seeking out a new source of inspiration. Leaving the comfort of her apartment seemed daunting, but Myxomie believed that life was full of new opportunities waiting to be discovered. If there lay another fountain of creativity somewhere within the depths of Mixopolis, what was stopping her from pursuing it?

"You know what? That's a great idea. Thanks, Ollie!" she said, feeling a surge of inspiration flow through her. "That advice definitely helped me a lot, too. I appreciate it."

Oleanda softly chuckled. "No problem, Myxomie. Just remember not to let yourself get too caught up in it again."

"Don't worry about it. When you see this next piece, it'll blow you away!"

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, stray leaves drifting in the wind. A bustling hub for activity, Mixopolis Park was as lively as ever, with Mixels from various tribes wandering about, playing, picnicking, or simply enjoying the scenery. In such a vast, hectic city, it was necessary from time to time for one to take a moment to slow down and admire the world for what it was, a harmonious mixture of cultures, desires and ideas, culminating in a city of bountiful creativity. Indeed, the exuberant atmosphere was palpable among all Mixels present as they went about their days.

Almost all Mixels, that is.

Her brush trailing down the canvas, its movements sluggish, Myxomie's brow furrowed as she focused her willpower into it, attempting to create a cohesive image. Her concentration was unbreakable, her mind immersed in her own artistic vision. Her eyes followed every subtle movement, every new vibrant hue that joined the elegant choir of her artwork. At a glance, one would consider the scene currently captured on her canvas – a depiction of an average day in Mixopolis Park, down to the individual Mixels that passed her by – to be a faithful recreation of reality with immaculate attention to detail, if a little overly bold in terms of hue. To Myxomie herself, however, the imperfections in the piece were impossible to ignore, sticking out like gleaming gemstones amid a sea of sediment – a stroke too thick, a line too short. Try as she might, she could not capture the signature mood of her pieces, the spark that fueled her creativity lacking that crucial bit of fuel to truly shine.

After several moments, Myxomie stepped back from her work, resting her brush delicately on the easel. Her eyes bored into the fruits of her labor, carefully analyzing it with all the scrutiny of a professional art critic. She scanned every inch of the image, taking in its most minute details.

Eventually, her head dipped in defeat. Her verdict was clear.

Myxomie sighed in frustration. She wasn't certain how much longer she could keep this up. She had taken Oleanda's advice to heart and sought out havens of potential inspiration – immersing herself in the atmospheres of the city's various locales and districts would rejuvenate her creativity, or so she surmised. She soon found, however, that her chosen destinations weren't as ideal as she had hoped.

The square near the partially rebuilt Chillagmite Peak had proven too cold for her liking, much as the Bonflower gardens in the Infernite District were a tad too balmy. The Flexer neighborhoods were too high up for her to reach alone, and though the architecture of the Mixie District was a perfect muse, one could only withstand the constant background noise of blaring horns and thumping percussion for so long. Mixopolis Park was her last resort, but clearly not even its serenity was able to reignite her creative spirit.

A cocktail of emotions swirled through Myxomie's mind, most of all a prevailing sense of dejection. She prided herself on being optimistic and seeing the silver lining in everything, but even the most spirited Mixels had their limits. She didn't want to accept the harsh reality that she may never reach her peak, doomed to forever chase an unattainable standard while shackled by her own dwindling innovation. Art was her passion, the thing that made her days brighter and motivated her to push her own boundaries. If she had truly lost her touch, then was there any point to continuing further?

Why, though? Why had her spark of inspiration abandoned her when she needed it so desperately? Was there a way to reclaim it? Myxomie's head swam with memories of her artistic journey: her decorating the balcony with her ever-expanding portfolio, her style and technique evolving over time, her showing her latest pieces to Oleanda for feedback. Would all of her efforts, everything she'd built up, everything she'd accomplished…be for naught?

"I'm telling ya, it's real!"

She immediately perked up, her head swiveling to her right. She pinpointed the source of the voice, an animated Muncho with lanky limbs chatting with their companion, a stocky Klinker, as the two reclined on a nearby park bench. In stark contrast to the Muncho's excitable demeanor, the latter seemed indifferent, but listened all the same.

"I've heard stories from some Glorp Corpians around town," the Muncho continued. "They say that bog over in their district was formed from soil from the deepest parts of the Swamplands, where no Mixel dares to venture. Some of 'em said there are exotic Mixamals found nowhere else in the world, others say there's treasure lurking deep within the muck, waiting to be found. But what all of 'em were absolutely sure about was – get this – a pool of magic, glowing slime smack dab in the middle of it, one which can grant the wish of anyone who touches it."

"Magic slime in a marshland no one has set foot in, and thus would have no real knowledge of?" The Klinker took a long, drawn-out sip of their antirust coffee before they spoke again. "Preposterous. Next you'll tell me there's some sort of ferocious swamp monster living in it as well," they scoffed. Though neither noticed, Myxomie listened intently from afar, intrigued by the Muncho's claims.

"Well, guess what, bud? You're right!" the Muncho laughed, even more enthused. "From what I heard, getting yer hands on that slime doesn't come easy. Deep within that very bog is a massive, terrifying Mixeloptor, waitin' to defend that magic slime from anyone who dares step foot in it. Apparently it's bigger than the ones at the zoo. Whaddya think of that?"

"I think you should heed more caution when listening to tall tales from strangers."

"Aw, c'mon, throw me a bone here! It's true!"

As the pair continued to bicker, gears began to spin in Myxomie's mind. If what she had just heard was indeed true, then she might have found another solution to her current dilemma – one right under her nose the whole time, no less. Returning to her tribe's roots would be the exact change of scenery she desired, but a pool of magic slime that could grant her wishes to boot? Perhaps her hobby wasn't as jeopardized as she thought.

Within Myxomie's soul, a new sensation emerged, reverberating throughout her body. It quelled the darkness seeping into her mind, invigorating her with newfound energy and drive – a feeling she needed more than ever.

Hope. Hope that she could reach heights she hadn't even considered prior. Hope that she could get one step closer to making her expertise known beyond her apartment balcony. Hope that she could make something truly extraordinary.

Myxomie folded her easel, gathering her art supplies and shoving them into her storage case before sprinting toward the park's nearest exit. Once she reached the bustling city streets, she glided toward the nearest living taxi, asking for a ride to the Glorp Corp District in a manner that would likely be considered slightly concerning. It didn't matter too much to her either way, though – right now, she was a woman on a mission. A mission that wasn't over quite yet.

The low hum of hoverflies buzzing through the air accompanied the gentle rustle of the dense thickets, their leaves gently swaying to and fro. As one would naturally come to expect from a tribe of fun-loving thrill-seekers, the Glorp Corp District was best summed up by the word "wild". While there was still some semblance of organization, the Glorp Corp was overall more lenient with the construction of their district. The tribe lived by the philosophy of going with the flow and seeing where it took them, and that also applied to their dedicated corner of Mixopolis: clusters of nose-shaped houses were sandwiched between vast stretches of tangroves and muck pools, and grassy paths weaved around large piles of ooze-covered trash. Amid it all, a thin yet pungent haze filled the air and viscous green slime was littered around every corner, underscoring the district's signature ambience. To some tribes, it was a foul-smelling wasteland. To Mixels like Myxomie, it was a tropical paradise.

The moist soil clung to Myxomie's feet as she trudged through the district, storage case in claw. Though the familiar landscapes were relieving to see, the fires of ambition kept the Glorp Corpian's senses keen and her spirits high. Her compound eyes scanned the area, searching fervently for any hints or clues. No matter how long it took her, she was determined to uncover the mystery of the bog's existence once and for all. If nobody else had already set foot in it, she would be the first to do so.

The thrill of the thought sent excitement coursing through Myxomie's veins, making her wings flutter slightly. Like any other Glorp Corpian, she couldn't turn down the prospect of a new daring escapade, especially one as promising as this. She was itching to jump at even the most remote hint of the bog's existence if it meant she had a lead.

The further she traveled, however, the longer the path stretched. It continued for what seemed like miles, curving and twisting as it went. With every step she took, she became a little less certain of the validity behind that Muncho's claims. The bog merely being a rumor wasn't exactly outside the realm of possibility, after all. Even so, she pressed on. After all, there was no other way to know for herself than to keep going. After many minutes, Myxomie eventually reached the path's end. She stepped into a small clearing, with nothing but towering tangroves on all sides. They stretched far above into the sky, their dense leaves filtering the sunlight above.

Confusion laced Myxomie's mind, her brow furrowed. This couldn't have been the end of her search, could it? Were the rumors she heard really just one big hoax after all? She felt the lingering remnants of her earlier uncertainty seep into her mind, but her resolve remained firm. Deep within, her intuition told her that there was more to her search than what meets the eye. If nothing else, she could count on that.

Scanning the trees, Myxomie suddenly noticed a rather compact collection of vines off to one side. They were noticeably thicker and darker in color than the surrounding vines, and were tangled more thoroughly with one another. At a glance, they resembled a stalwart barrier, as if they were meant to keep something inside…or out.

A lead!, she thought to herself. As she approached the vines, she could see tiny thorns on their surfaces. A little cumbersome, but nothing she couldn't handle. Lunging forward, her claws sliced through the vines with ease, leaving nothing but a mound of severed plant matter in her wake. Her path cleared, Myxomie now noticed a winding, narrow path carved into the thickets. She couldn't make out too much – the foliage was far too dense for any light to be allowed passage – but she knew this was it. It had to be.

Myxomie pressed deeper, squeezing her way past tangrove trunks and stray snakevines. She was barely a few feet into the passage before all remaining light vanished, forcing her to whip out her phone. A brief glance at the screen told her the battery sat at 36% power, more than enough for a round trip. Activating the flashlight, Myxomie pressed onward, doing her best to maintain a brisk pace. Stray thorns grazed her skin as she pushed vines out of the way, her feet sinking deeper into the viscous mud beneath her. The passage became narrower still, to the point where she had to move sideways to progress.

Much to her relief, the pathway wasn't as long as she had initially assumed. Natural light met her eyes again as she registered a small opening just ahead of her, barely big enough for her to fit through. Pushing with all of her might, she forced her bulky storage case through the opening, followed by her tumbling through, landing on a patch of soft grass.

Myxomie took a moment to recompose herself as she came to her feet again. She finally looked up, only for her breath to escape her lungs at what she saw.

Before her eyes was a vast, spacious clearing, with fragments of driftwood and slime-coated rocks dotted around a grassy, pale green field. A large nose-tree could be seen at the other end, sludge cascading from its cavities like waterfalls. What caught the artist's attention more than anything, however, was what lay in the center: a large pool of viscous slime, luminous and bright turquoise in color.

Myxomie's eyes glittered like chandeliers, her heart soaring from excitement. Against all odds, she'd done the impossible. She'd proven the rumors correct.

"Woo-hoo!" she hollered, her voice echoing through the forest. "The bog is real! The bog is real!" She wondered if those other Glorp Corpians she'd heard about had gone on similar adventures, all equally astounded by their discovery. She could only imagine the looks on people's faces when she returned to tell the tale…especially Oleanda's.

A sudden glint appeared in the corner of Myxomie's eye, piquing her interest. Turning to her right, she caught something shimmering in the midday light, surrounded by winding snakevines. Wandering over, she could make out something large and jagged underneath the tendrils, intriguing her further. Was this the treasure that she'd also heard of? Though she still had her original mission, Myxomie wasn't one to ignore an extra reward for her troubles, especially if it meant she had something to remember this excursion by.

Myxomie carefully cleared away the vines as if she were unwrapping a gift. Her heart skipped a beat at what lay beneath.

Sitting before Myxomie was a large Cubit shard, bright green and perfectly intact, with no blemishes to be found. Mesmerized, she picked up the artifact, gazing at her reflection on its surface. A faint warmth emanated from the shard, accompanying a dim glow from its core. Immediately, a flurry of questions breezed through Myxomie's mind. Where did this come from? Why is it so large? Why is it even here? Can I keep it?

All further questions were instantly silenced by the shard vividly glowing, forcing the Glorp Corpian to shield her eyes. A second later, a choir of voices invaded her mind, otherworldly yet booming. They all spoke to her at once, but Myxomie managed to pick up bits and pieces of their messages, something about a successor, immense power, and even greater responsibility. By the time she had formed a coherent response to the relentless assault on her psyche, the voices had already vanished, and the Cubit shard's light with it.

She blinked once, twice. She glanced from side to side, making absolutely certain she wasn't being followed, and then to the shard, to ensure she wasn't going insane.

The mysterious outburst had only served to raise more questions. Myxomie was certain this was no ordinary shard, but that conclusion was as far as she had gotten so far. With her mind still reeling from the mysterious voices invading it, she deemed it a matter to be resolved later. Besides, there was a reason she was in this bog to begin with.

Setting the shard down next to her, Myxomie opened her storage case, setting up her easel once more. She placed a fresh canvas onto the stand, ensuring it was steady. Next came her brush and collection of paints, placed delicately beneath the canvas. Taking a deep breath, Myxomie refocused her mind, letting her submerge herself into her craft.

A framework of lines appeared first, then broader strokes of color, forming the sky, then the grass. It wasn't long before Myxomie's muscle memory fully took over, her claw seemingly moving of its own accord. As she painted, she could feel a sensation that she had not felt in some time, one she genuinely missed: that indelible spark of ingenuity, shimmering brighter than ever. No longer was the pent-up frustration of failing to achieve perfection restraining her — she was one with her brush, one with her art, her strokes as delicate and graceful as a ballerina's dance. She felt whole again. Even the environment itself seemed to be in tune with her, from the faint chitters and buzzes of faraway Mixamals, to the soothing breeze in the air, to the low bubbling noises coming from the bog.

Hold on…bubbling?

Myxomie paused, looking up from her work. Sure enough, a collection of bubbles had formed atop the bog's surface, growing in volume and number. The bubbling noise grew louder, deeper, becoming a low rumble.

A chill raced down her spine. If the bog was real, did that also imply…?

She certainly hoped not. The last thing she needed after such a hectic day was a battle against a ferocious beast, especially with no Cubits on hand.

The rumbling grew louder. The bubbles grew larger, more numerous.

Finally, the bubbles gave way, and something arose from the slime.

Thankfully, as she soon discovered, Myxomie would live another day without having to confront a wild Mixeloptor.

What instead emerged from the depths was the largest and most terrifying Coypaconda she would ever see in her life.

Equal parts rodent and reptile, and highly territorial, Coypacondas were among the fiercest aquatic Mixamals. As if their blade-like fangs weren't terrifying enough, they had enough strength to crush even the hardiest Cragsters in their grip. As they tended to prefer marshlands, Glorp Corpians had implemented security measures to keep them as far away from Mixel infrastructure as possible, making them a rare threat, if at all.

A one-on-one match with an unexpected invader was a far different story.

Myxomie dropped her brush in awe, backing away slowly from the Mixamal as it stared at her like a Mixie Cat staring down a wayward Crunch Doodle. Her eyes darted around the area, searching for anything that could be used to defend herself. They landed on the Cubit shard, its reflective surface glimmering.

In one swift motion, the artist lunged for the shard, picking it up and pointing the jagged end at the Mixamal's snout.

"S-stay back!" she demanded, mustering as much courage as she could. "Don't make me use this!"

The Coypaconda merely responded with a long, shrill hiss, baring its fangs at Myxomie. Despite its imposing size, it was quite agile, as she quickly found out when she narrowly dodged its head lunging forward. Running to the other end of the bog, Myxomie quickly scanned the Coypaconda's body, searching for viable weak points. Any longer and this confrontation would quickly devolve into a losing battle, so seeking any possible advantages was imperative.

Unfortunately, the Mixamal caught on quickly to Myxomie's new strategy, and sank into the bog once more. She watched the pool intently, searching for signs of movement. Coypacondas were notoriously unpredictable when hunting.

A splash to her left signaled her to roll out of the way. One of the Coypaconda's claws barely missed her, making her yelp in surprise. As the predator stanced itself up for another attack, she took the opportunity to regain her footing, standing defiantly against the Mixamal.

A familiar trickling sensation emerged from Myxomie's wings, her brain thinking at lightning speed. Scooping up heaps of fresh slime, she propelled herself upward, flying to reach the Coypaconda's eye level.

"Take this!" she shouted, launching the slime directly at the beast's eyes. It only served to blind and mildly irritate the beast, but that was what Myxomie was counting on. She returned to encircling the Coypaconda, looking for a new angle. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up, and she doubted her trick would work a second time.

A sudden impact sent the Glorp Corpian hurtling through the air and tumbling across the grass before coming to a gradual stop. Nursing her head, Myxomie looked up to see the Coypaconda's massive tail, its tip piercing the bog's surface like an imposing spire. Its head then joined it, its eyes now free of slime and burning with rage.

Myxomie was left frozen. There were no escape routes left, and her one strategy had failed her. It wasn't as if she could fight the thing up close, either – she'd rather not risk another blow to the skull. Her heart raced as her breathing grew shallow. The Coypaconda's head drew closer as it circled in for the kill, hissing ominously.

Suddenly, she felt a strange warmth pulsing from her claw. She looked down, bewildered, her eyes registering the Cubit shard still in her grasp, shining brightly with mystical energy. Power coursed through her claw, shooting up her veins and spreading throughout the rest of her body. Newly rejuvenated, she grinned at the sight of the glowing shard, before turning her attention back to the predator before her.

"Not going down that easily, buddy!" she taunted, prompting another roar from the Coypaconda. As if by instinct, slime cascaded down her wings again, significantly more than before. She reached to scoop it up, but it instead floated off of her wings, molding itself into a long, gelatinous whip.

Any initial surprise Myxomie had morphed into determination as she wielded her new weapon, lashing it against the Coypaconda's scales. This time, the Mixamal visibly winced in pain, as if the slime had gained some fantastic new property from the shard's influence.

As the whip fell apart, inspiration surged through Myxomie's mind. All at once, the pieces clicked together.

"Sorry, big fella, but I don't remember asking for a second opinion!" With that, she immediately turned her attention to the bog, exerting as much focus as she possibly could.

As if by magic, the slime churned and rippled, coiling upward as it bent to Myxomie's will. The ooze formed itself into two massive tendrils, wrapping around the agitated Coypaconda from both sides. It violently writhed in the slime's grip, hissing and screeching loudly, but its efforts were ultimately futile.

A third tendril emerged, forming into a large, blunt mallet. Driving all of her willpower into her constructs, Myxomie slammed the mallet into the Coypaconda's head with all of her might, an audible thud ringing out from the impact.

Her energy fully expended, she released the constructs, causing the bog to collapse into its normal state once more. Meanwhile, the dazed Coypaconda swayed about for a moment before retreating into the depths, begrudgingly accepting defeat. Just before its head was fully submerged, Myxomie caught a final glimpse of its reptilian eyes, seething with resentment.

The Cubit shard's glow faded once more, reverting to its normal state. Myxomie took a moment to catch her breath, the adrenaline from the ordeal dissipating. She hadn't the faintest idea what had come over in that moment, but she loved feeling that sense of newfound strength, of unbridled power. It was almost as if she was a completely different person.

Slowly, Myxomie rose to her feet, ambling back across the bank. She managed to find her easel where she left it, which was miraculously intact alongside the rest of her gear. The painting had remained untouched, save for one crucial difference: a smattering of turquoise slime across the landscape.

Myxomie stared at the painting, awestruck. It was almost exactly like her signature Neo-Glorpist pieces, only with a unique flair, one carried by the bog's glistening ooze. It added a new dimension that she had never considered prior, elevating the piece even higher.

Myxomie beamed. Even if the slime wasn't truly magical, it had still granted her wish in its own way. A wave of satisfaction washed over her, her grin growing even wider. She had trekked across Mixopolis, found a so-called mythical bog, and even fought off an irate Coypaconda, but it was all worth it. Her inspiration and creativity were fully restored, and Myxomie couldn't be more ecstatic.

"Hold on…you took down a Copyaconda?"

"You bet!"

"All by yourself?"

"Yep!"

Oleanda leaned back in her armchair, processing this new info. "Damn. I didn't even know you had it in ya. Good for you, girl."

The moment Myxomie had returned home, she had wasted no time in sitting her roommate down and recounting her exploits in extremely vivid detail. The Glorp Corpian had a knack for grandiose retellings, to the point where it even left the stoic Noxiflorr stunned. To help clear her mind, Oleanda sipped her chamomint tea as Myxomie bounced in her seat, clutching her Cubit shard like a trophy.

"Heh, thanks," Myxomie chuckled. "It really was terrifying, though. Trust me, you never want to know what seeing one of those up close is like."

"And I hope I never do," Oleanda replied. She glanced toward the screen door. "I see you finally found your stride again. That painting sure is…interesting."

Myxomie beamed again. "Thank you! The bog slime makes it really pop!" she gushed. "Did you see the little shiny parts too? They're based on this Cubit shard!"

Oleanda sipped her tea again."You said you found it in that bog, right? Where'd it even come from?"
"No clue." Myxomie turned over the Cubit shard in her claws, gazing thoughtfully at it. "But…you remember how I told you about how I used it, right?"

"As I recall, you became 'supercharged' and trapped the poor thing in its own slime."

"Right, but I also felt something else. Something weird…like I was meant to find this, to wield it." She looked up at Oleanda. "What do you think?"

The Noxiflorr scratched her chin, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I think it's whatever you make of it. Maybe it really is destiny, or just plain luck. Who knows?" A warm smile graced her face. "But whatever you do with it, I know you'll do great, Myxomie," she said.

Myxomie looked at the shard, peering deeper into its core. There were still plenty of questions surrounding the artifact left unanswered. As long as she had her spirit and inspiration, though, Myxomie was confident she wouldn't falter in her efforts, no matter what it took.

"Yeah…I know I will."