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“The Holonets have named this rogue human The Pirate King," Captain Shlaye Bressik announced to the senators and law enforcement officials gathered in the Hall of Justice. "They have named him so because every attempt to capture him and his crew of miscreants has failed."
The blue-skinned Adani senator rose from her Grav chair and addressed Captain Shlaye. "This Pirate King of yours is terrorizing the Adanian shipping lanes and trade routes. A dozen short haulers and twice that many liners have been sacked in the past three months. If something isn't done soon to resolve this untenable situation, the grumbles from the Freighter Union about a general strike will become a reality. I don't have to tell you the far-reaching consequences of a shipping strike on the Federacy's economy."
"I understand, senator," Shlaye said, motioning with her hand tentacles for the good senator to be easy. "We are doing everything we can to put an end to this scourge, but you must understand, piracy is a new concept to the Federacy. We only recently learned of this practice from our contacts on Earth. It will take time for our policing systems to make the necessary adjustments."
"Best you hurry, captain. The whole of the Federacy has eyes on this Pirate debacle."
That really rankled many in the Halls of Justice, especially Shlaye. This so-called Pirate King evaded their hapless patrols with ease, turning every effort at capturing him into a comical farce. Shlaye's six eyes glittered with anger. This human was far too clever for their untutored attempts to apprehend him and his crew, galling as that was to admit. The Pirate King and his crew were as ghosts who struck at will, always emerging from the black where Federacy ships were not present to take their prize and vanish without a trace. That was the most humiliating part of the whole preposterous affair. A hard thing for anyone in her position to accept. Still, she did not believe they needed a new perspective as a certain council member had suggested. Not yet.
"It seems this rabble has outsmarted you at every turn, Captain Shlaye," another council member spoke, the leathery-skinned Julio representative. "Perhaps it's time to consider all your options, yes?"
"Call for help from the humans?" A loud basso bellowed from the back, stricken with indignant outrage at the mere suggestion of consulting the junior senator from the Federacy's newest member species. "The Federacy has existed since those talking primates were climbing down out of their trees. I think we can handle a single crew of these so-called pirates without begging for their help. Thank you very much."
Thunderous approval greeted her words.
"Piracy is a human convention," Captain Shlaye raised her voice to be heard over the shouting. "Something the galactic community has never dealt with until now. It will take time to build effective strategies and tactics to take down The Pirate King."
"Yes, yes you see?" Cramius from the Odellar system spoke up, a wizened old goat of a senator who forgot his name more often than not. "Never should have brought them into our civilized society, I said it! I said it then and I'll say it until my old bones are stardust! They were not ready. Much growing they have to do before being introduced to the wider galaxy. We should have waited!"
Shlaye pressed the glowing holo button on her podium, and a resounding gong split the air, cutting off the arguing before it could build steam and get out of hand. That was usual these days when talks inevitably went to The Pirate King and the troubles his crew was visiting upon the peoples of the Federacy. Everyone was on edge with no good answers, making for a volatile environment.
"We will deal with this rabble ourselves," Shlaye assured everyone. "We do not need human help. So far as we know, it is a single ship, no reason to call on their advice. What should they think if we can't handle a simple one-ship threat?" The notion was so absurd that Shlaye couldn't believe she'd had to voice it aloud.
"See that you do," Senator Woropaj called out, with others nodding vigorously in agreement. "Or we may be forced to reconsider your position, Captain."
Shlaye did not like the sound of that, though she had no time for a rebuttal. Again things degenerated into shouting matches and old feuds kindled in the eyes of ancient rivals. This conference was going nowhere.
She tilted back her scalp tentacles and sighed. The sooner they caught The Pirate King, the better for everyone.
Especially Shlaye.
𒐤
"Target in sight."
Kal Krason sat in the captain's chair with one booted leg thrown over its arm, a bit of dark chest hair showing where his pearl synth-satin shirt was unbuttoned, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Today was going to be a good day. Credits, baby. It was all about those credits. And maybe a good bourbon and a game of dice to kill some time between runs. He still couldn't believe most in this so-called Federacy had never played dice. It was too easy, and the credits piled up until they wised to his uncanny luck. Kal had always been lucky that way, cards, and dice, and with the ladies. A smirk ghosted across his lips, especially with the ladies.
"Any ships in sensor range?" He asked, idly munching on a Gold Nectar from the rain forests of Reggan V. "Federacy gunships or patrols, scout drones?"
"Nothing showing in the sector, captain," Trigg called from tactical. "She's barren as a nun's bedroom. Looks like today's gonna be easy pickings."
Kal finished his exotic apple with a final crunch and tossed the amber-colored core over his shoulder, ignoring the dull scuttle it made over the deck grating.
"Well, alright," he said, brushing his hands clean on his black Armorweave pants and straightening in the seat. "Let's go introduce ourselves to our soon-to-be benefactors."
The Onyx was a stealth cruiser fitted out for fast strikes and faster exits, though in a pinch, she could tangle with a heavy battle cruiser and come out the other end without being mauled. Puck's extensive aftermarket upgrades were state-of-the-art, some on the bleeding edge of current tech and years ahead of anything the Federacy had in its antiquated arsenal. She was his ship's lead engineer, the brains behind The Onyx's might. He recruited her from some Ivy league academy back on earth, brilliant, driven with a mischievous streak to rival his own. Without her gadgets and tinkering, The Onyx wouldn't be able to do half the things Hauke demanded of the former military cruiser.
Time to go to work.
Onyx slithered up silent as a ghost beside the small luxury liner, coupling to its docking port while Kal and his shock troops prepared to board. It was almost too easy the way these ships were utterly oblivious to the potential threats in the deep. Not that they would have seen the Onyx coming anyway. Her advanced stealth tech was second to none, better even than the stuff they were putting out of the Sol navy yards. Something Puck had come up with that made Kal’s head dizzy when she tried to explain how it works.
A soft electronic whirring groan issued from the airlock door as the computer made final adjustments, and Hauke felt a familiar fiery surge in his veins, a welcome friend on the coming journey. The ship's Breacher went to work hacking the door's security measures. It took her less than thirty seconds, and they were inside.
Kal led his strike crew down the wide carpeted corridor with its luxurious crystal chandeliers and gilded wall hangings. Vast holo screens built into the shimmering white walls showed pristine crystal waters and white sandy beaches in the distance, and a low, soothing melody hummed in the air, broken occasionally by the crying of gulls. Paradise in space.
Gasps greeted his team at a wide intersection where the passenger cabins began. Objects thudded to the carpet as wide-eyed people goggled at Kal and his crew moving at them in a crouch, all kitted out in their midnight tactical gear with pulse rifles raised and ready.
"You," Kal pointed his rifle at them. "Hands up. Start walking."
Members of his team went about gathering startled passengers and crew members. It didn't take long to round everyone up, including those below deck in the galley or other compartments throughout the ship, and chivvy them to the bridge.
"Alright, folks," Kal flashed his trademark smile, gazing around at the crowd of curious passengers. Strange as it was, none seemed scared or even nervous. If anything, they were…excited, babbling amongst themselves over each other's holos. Not at all what he had experienced in the past.
Feora leaned in and whispered, "Something seem off about this ship to you? About its passengers, I mean?"
"Yea," he said, he'd noticed something different about these people back in the hallways. They weren't acting normal. Usually, folks begged, cried, and whimpered for their lives, which was nonsense. Kal and his crew were not monsters. They had no intention of hurting anyone. Not unless forced. They were simply out to make a living in their chosen profession. "Forget it. Let's focus on snatching everything worth anything and get the hell out of here. I don't like this shit." How the passengers were looking at him was starting to make his skin creep, almost like they knew him personally.
"Alright, quiet down," Kal lifted his voice to be heard over the babble. "You know the drill, folks." His eyes fell upon a particularly lovely Thressian and, out of nothing less than habit, flashed his boyish smile and winked at her. "Ready your transfer cubes. If you have jewels, gems, or precious metals, my colleague there will relieve you of your burdens."
Trigg was moving through the crowd with a big leather bag in one hand and a cube transfer interface in the other, collecting valuables and taking half the balance of everyone's accounts. Only half. No reason to be greedy. Besides, they weren't in the business of leaving people destitute.
Whispers from the passengers continued to trickle to Kal’s ears, and he found it increasingly difficult to ignore their strange, admiring stares.
"Thats him, I'm sure of it."
"Much better looking in person…"
"...some kind of human king I heard…."
His confusion deepened when a voice suddenly cried out from the crowd, "You're The Pirate King!" And the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Pirate King?
Kal blinked, shifted his feet, exchanged a puzzled look with Feora, then turned back to the crowd.
"Who?"
"Yeah it's all over the Holonet," a handsome lad out of the Obellar system with skin the color of a fire ruby called out, flashing Kal a glimpse of an article on a glowing holoscreen. "You're famous, a dashing rogue. The Pirate King they are calling you. Says here you elude the Federacy's every attempt at capture. What's it like? How do you become a pirate?"
"I don't care if they say you're a scoundrel," a painfully screechy voice rode over the rising murmur. "I love you!"
What the shit? Had they jumped into some alternate reality or something? This was getting out of hand.
Kal felt sweat bead his brow. The crowd was beginning to press in close with rising excitement, and he didn't like it one bit.
He looked to Feora, Trigg, and the rest of his crew and made a circling gesture with his first two fingers. "Time to wrap this up. Now. Got everything, Trigg?"
"Aye, that I do, captain," the big man flashed a grin that nearly glowed against his ebon skin.
"Back to The Onyx then, rapido. If you know what I'm saying." Kal couldn't get away from these bizarre people fast enough. Pirate King? What the hell?
Back on the Onyx, Puck pulled the Narrowcasts from around the system, and Kal was shocked at what she found.
His face was everywhere, on every Newsnet in the Federacy.
Apparently, he and his crew were something of a big deal. Celebrity outlaws. The authorities were stumbling about like two blind men trying to slap each other, all while the Newsnets glorified Kal and his crew as dashing rogues out to pull down the wealthy elite and rain their credits down upon the poor. People everywhere were smitten with the danger and romance the media was spinning.
Well, they got one thing wrong: I'm not giving up any credits!
Kal frowned down at the bluish glow of his grinning mug rotating on the holo. This was not good. His face was plastered everywhere, and there was no containing this, no hiding from it. Not now. And they didn't even use a good shot of him. No three-dimensional composite holo that showed his best features. What a crock.
Kal had set out to be rich and anonymous, perhaps even notorious. He would retire to a paradise world with credits spilling out of his pockets. But not some famous outlaw recognized in every home across the galaxy. That was a disaster for any man of his profession. He was fucked.
Fucked!
Wait, think Kal. You just have to think this out. This wasn't a total disaster. Not if his luck held.
"Well, we had a good run, boss," Feora said, clapping Kal on the back while looking at the holo over his shoulder. "Only a matter of time before they get lucky and corner us now." She straightened and started to walk away but glanced back over her shoulder. "I hear fencing high end kit out of the Ryari system rakes in the credits. Maybe a shift in our operation? Something on the ground?"
Kal knew she was right; it was only a matter of time before Federacy hunters got lucky. But that wasn't going to be today. Or any day soon if he had his way. If his luck held.
How could he walk away from what he loved?
He shook his head and smiled his crooked smile. "Never took you for a quitter, Fey. The fun's just getting started. Might even be a challenge now."
Feora shook her head and snorted.
"Set course for the Arenel system, Mendia," he said to the stout woman sitting at the conn. "Untapped waters there I hear. Full of fat fish waiting to be plucked. And I mean for us to have our share."
Mendia nodded. "Yes, captain."
Feora returned his roguish grin. "In to the end?"
Kal’s smile was something a wolf would have recognized.
"In to the end."

Through Monday, May 27 we present the all-new They Came From Beneath the Sea! Bundle featuring They Came from Beneath the Sea!, the RPG of drive-in B-movie horrors from decades past – of melodrama, science fiction, and farce – from Onyx Path Publishing. PLAY heroic humans driving back watery threats that seek to invade, destroy, or subjugate humanity! CAPTURE everything great about monster movies of the 1950s and 1960s – the thrills and (optionally) the campy humor – using the cinematic Storypath dice-pool system! GRAB your chocolate malt, turn on the jukebox, and ready your harpoons! Don't be caught unawares when it's revealed that They Came From Beneath The Sea!
They Came from Beneath the Sea! is a dramatic and farcical Storypath RPG of the wonder, horror, thrills, and humor of 1950s and 1960s science fiction movies. In a world under attack, you play strong-jawed war veterans, cunning and resourceful explorers, utterly insane scientists, and blue-collar heroes. Adventures range from the defense of a small coastal town to the liberation of a cruise ship infested with gill-folk, to the capture of an alien submarine and a journey down to the sea bed to take the fight to the invaders.
They Came from Beneath the Sea! mixes serious threats and unbridled farce. The book plays it straight with no winking at the camera. Still, your game will include ludicrous statements and events handled with gravitas. There are rules for incorporating Quips and Cinematics in a scenario. Drawn from decks of cards or rolled from tables in the book, Quips are your award-winning one-liners that allow your blow to pack a harder punch, make your rebuke more scathing, or just give you pithy last words before dying. Are they sometimes incongruous to the scene or inappropriate in any context? That's up to you. The players and Director together discover the correct level of humor for their game.
Cinematics encourage metagaming. As you accumulate points to spend on inserting deleted scenes in your game, you can Cut to Black when the action gets too hot, bring in an Omniscient Narrator, apply Bad Dubbing to an alien's dialogue to make them talk to you in English, or Summon the Stuntman to replace your scrawny scientist character when he has to run the length of an exploding submarine, crab-person baby in arms. Caught short without the clue or item you need? Insert a Deleted Scene that shows you set up that element earlier in the story.
Onyx Path's Storypath system (the Trinity games, Scion) is a lineal descendant of White Wolf's Storyteller rules: a narrative-focused d10-based dice-pool system, Attribute + Skill against a set Difficulty. Each result of 8+ counts as a success; 10s count double. Any success lets your character use a relevant Enhancement; surplus successes let you gain benefits by executing a Stunt (Infused With Science, Insanely Swift, Old-School Carnage, Impeccable Grooming, Inspirational Storyteller, Sudden Bravery); failure brings Consolation, which lets you affect the story anyway. Botches (rolls of 1 with no successes) earn you Rewrites, which are added to the shared Writer's Pool. Use Rewrites to gain bonus dice, rerolls, or Cinematics.
Combat is intended to play fast and loose. Every character is Difficulty 1 to hit, but you can protect yourself with Defense Stunts that increase an opponent's target number to hit you. Certain attacks have damage tags (Concealable, Grappling, Non-lethal, Returning, Shockwave, etc.) that improve their effectiveness. Most weapons have a damage rating of 1, but again, an Increase Damage Stunt can inflict greater injury. You have 10 Injuries, divided into four levels: Just a Flesh Wound, That'll Leave a Scar, Last-Ditch Effort, and Don't Forget Me. A dying player character gets one final action (with a hefty bonus) and an epic Death Scene.
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Stirring awake, Morte slumbered peacefully next to me. Our evening had been busy the moment I woke up from that damn spell, a golden envelope fluttering into my palm. So much for the monster jobs lately, the shrill shriek of my cell phone had me picking it up before it woke up Morte. Roseworth’s voice had me groaning bitterly to myself, my free hand opened up the envelope. An unfamiliar name glittered up at me, Roseworth saying the same name. Cursing under my breath, no files existed with her name.
“Cool. Do you have any information on her?” I whispered into the phone, Morte still slumbering away. Checking the time on my phone, a terse shit escaped my lips. Why did it have to be four o’ clock in the morning! Giving me coordinates, her kind words did little to wake me up. Scratching at my rat nest of hair, a groggy yawn poured from my lips.
“Let’s do this one together. I want it to be the two of us if you don’t mind.” She requested honestly, something seeming off. Hanging up the phone, my bare feet hit the floor. Washing up real quick, nothing eased the swelling dread in my gut. Drying off, my steady hands twisted my hair into a bun. Selecting a steel gray Lolita dress, little relief came to me the moment I slid my feet into my boots. Checking to see if everything was there, I strapped on the case holding my dagger upon the discovery of everything being present. Sneaking past the bed, my fingers snatched my purse on the way out. Avoiding the creaking floor boards, my favorite hearse waited for me. Climbing into the driver’s seat, my fingers typed in the coordinates. Allowing the maps to boot up, the engine roaring to life had me ready to go on my adventure. Driving in pensive silence to the next spot, the trees became the city. The city became more trees, another wave of dread making me sit in the hearse for a good fifteen minutes. Stepping out, a strange fog hung over the sea of endless roots. Locking the door, a few of the trees glitched. Seleste must be a goddess of deception, a lump forming in my throat. The real Roseworth must be captured somewhere around here, the number on the phone matching hers. Kicking my dagger into my eager palm, lord knew what craziness was wandering in that trap. Pausing in front of the thin wall of the trap, my hand slid through. Crossing into the trap, the other side vanished from my sight. Tears welled up in my eyes at a chilling voice, Mr. Bone standing in front of me. Tilting his head back and forth, a cruel grin lingered on his lips. Catching his head in his palm, inky blood painted his gray hair. Quivering in my spot, my hand cupped my mouth. Swinging his head back and forth, shock rounded my eyes the moment a fuchsia dagger slid through my stomach. Sinking to my knees, everything blurred. Cupping my stomach, ocean blue eyes tripled. Hitting the dirt, a rough darkness stole me away.
Stirring awake, chains had me tied to Roseworth’s back. Struggling in my chains, the links clanging woke her up. Fresh cuts and bruises covered her face, my own hands feeling the hole in my stomach. Coughing up a large clot of blood, her kind eyes darkened to an emotion of fear and considerable worry. Sliding off my boot, a strong push had it by her hand.
“Can you pluck out my collection of medicine?” I whispered for only her to hear, her left eye winking once. Shifting through the beat up leather, her steady fingers rolled the one vial in my direction. Flicking it into the air with my finger, my teeth caught the round end. Biting down, glass shattered. Gulping down the milky liquid, the shards tumbling from my tongue. Sliding my boot back over, the worn leather of my boot hugging my feet felt like Heaven. Mouthing the words key, her head nodded towards a hole in the tree. Winking two times, my message for her was received. Rising to our feet, the dirt crunched as we maneuvered ourselves closer to the hole in the tree. Sending a couple of my shadow snakes to retrieve the keys, the bark glitched with every hiss. A couple of snakes dragged my dagger over to me, the keys jingling into my palm. Kicking my dagger into my free palm, Roseworth swiped the keys from my other hand. Flipping through the keys,the right one had the chains clattering to our feet. Melting the keys in her palm, surprise rounded my eyes at my healed stomach. Burying me in a desperate embrace, our phones were nowhere to be seen. Letting her emotions soak my shoulder, my mind working on how to get our asses out of here. Wiping away her tears as she stepped back, something had to draw her here in the first place.
“What drew you here? I had you little stunt double call me. Not to mention, the gods need me to kill her.” I interrogated patiently, checking her over for wounds. “No offense, I can’t make the connection to why you had to come here.” Dusting off her soiled suit, her hands felt around her pocket. Plucking out a black envelope, my fingers curling around the edges precariously. Opening the flap, my name shimmered in the false moonlight. Closing it back up, her shaking hand tucked it back into her pocket.
“When it was at one of our last crime scenes I had to bring it to you. Thankfully, the time and place was on this card.” She explained with a tired smile, pulling her pistol from her pocket. “I don’t know what you are into but you seem to be sniffing too close to the sun. Yet, the will to bring you to a stop is nonexistent.” Smiling quietly to myself, her respect for me was hardly earned.
“This is something that I have to do. What did she look like?” I inquired with a softer tone than before, her hand scratching the back of her neck. Summoning a piece of paper and pencil, the tip moved on its own. Lowering itself in front of me, the goddess almost had a foot on me. The sleek fuchsia bob matched her damn dagger, her cold ocean blue eyes staring back at me. Yanking Roseworth behind the largest tree, scarlet painting my cheeks the moment I covered her with my scent. Seleste came into view, her wool navy dress swaying with each step. Spinning fuchsia daggers in her eager palms, a shrill shriek rang out in the still air.
“Where the hell did you go, you fucking brats!” She bellowed into the rumbling sky, raindrops splashing onto her cheeks. “Goddamn it! The twins told me that it would be easy! There is nothing easy about this!” Stomping her feet in some sort of pathetic fit, my brow cocked at her childish nature.
“Get in the trees and shoot from above. This is going to get messy.” I ordered discreetly into her ear, her protests failing to leave her lips the moment I skidded out of our hiding spot. Moving my wet strands out of my eyes, my dagger extended to its full form. Running the blade along the trees, sparks danced in the air. Whistling one of my childhood songs, the notes seemed to come from every corner of her trap.
“Perhaps the brat is you. Adults don’t throw fits, after all!” I called out, attempting to throw off her composure. A rush of cold air lashed at my cheeks, Seleste appearing over my head. Blocking her daggers with my blade, one push sending her back into the sky. Summoning my shadows, the forms glitched into carbon copies of me. Coming back down, the show was set to begin. Hiding in the trees, my shadows kept her entertained while I prepared a spell to take over her trap. Getting on my knees, a swift slice had inky blood pooling in my palm. Dipping the tip of my finger into shining liquid, the tip of my finger dancing around to produce a ring of demonic symbols. Pressing my palms together, the cost would be half of my magic.
“Powers of the bones of the underworld.” I chanted boldly, loose strands of my hair floating up. “Take what belongs to me!” Laying my palm on the biggest symbol, the circle glowing to life. The forest decayed to a sea of dead trees, the dirt darkening to a deep scarlet. Flicking the wet dirt off of my palm, I made sure to mark random trees in an effort to confuse her further. Catching my breath, her insults grew louder. Preparing myself for a rough blow, an ice bullet prevented her from getting close enough to harm me. Shifting her attention to Roseworth, her gun glinted in the rising moon. Winking in my direction, the next move was mine. Blasting the area around her feet, ice climbed up her leg. Struggling in her spot, another bullet struck her chest. Ice began to devour her body, an idea coming to mind. Moving my lips a mile a minute, the ground rumbled. My giant snake burst from the ground, the fangs piercing her heart. Foaming at the mouth, her body jerked around. Ice shattered with a whip of his tail, her limp body flying into her mouth. Slithering into his hole, the ground slammed shut. Collapsing to my knees, a couple of organs burst from the impact of two spells. Coughing up blood, the trap dissolved into the normal woods. A loud shit burst from my lips at the damn twins towering over me, both of them staring down at me hungrily in their usual outfits. Licking their lips, lightning crackled up and down their arms. Horror rounded my eyes, my muscles seeming too weak to move. Silent tears stained my cheeks, Morte and Croak appearing over their heads. Spinning on their heels, sparks danced aimlessly around me with every violent clash. Shrinking my blade back down to its dagger form, the trees blurring into dozens of trees. Slapping my cheeks, aid would be necessary in a few minutes. Fishing around my boots, a pair of arms tossed me over a pair of feminine shoulders. Sprinting away from the scene, Roseworth’s words seemed to fade in and out, the dirt spinning underneath her boots, a couple more shouts following us. Ripping open the back of a hearse, the frame squealed in protest the moment she leapt into the back. Locking it behind her, her arms held me tight. Glancing up at her, the warm feeling of blood pouring from my lips had me getting nauseated beyond reason. Hitting my face desperately to wake up, her hands ripped the medical kit off the wall.
“Tell me how to heal you.” She pleaded with tears in her voice, a buzzed panic thickening in her tone as I rolled out of her arms. Staring into the box, the engine roaring to life had me bouncing around. Peeling onto the road, Morte and Croak glanced back at me, Croak climbing into the back. Asking Roseworth to hold me still, her slender fingers flipped through the potions. Yanking me back onto her lap, Croak had her head buried into the box. Morte begged for her to help me out.
“I am trying but she broke her magical limit!” She snapped back at him, jolts of pain had me biting my tongue repeatedly, ten vials rolling around in her palms. Mixing them into an empty beaker, the colors blended to form a lovely lilac potion. Opening up my mouth, the sweet tasting potion coated my throat on the way down. Making sure I swallowed it, tears splashed onto my face.
“Stop pushing yourself, love.” She comforted me, her finger tucking my sweat soaked hair behind my ear. “Why did you push yourself so h-” Thuds banged over our head, lightning cracking over the sides of the hearse. Struggling to sit up, my organs were weaving themselves back together. Gritting my teeth, my fingers curled around my dagger. Ignoring the protests, a finger to my lips had everyone calming down. Yanking Croak close to my face, she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Make Madame Bone appear in front of us.” I hissed with a huff, her head nodding. Crawling up to the window, Morte wiped the sweat off of my brow. “Madame Bone is going to appear in front of us. Drive accordingly.” Climbing up the front seat, wonder brightened my eyes at a gray skinned version of Madame Bone holding her head. Maggots squirmed in the meat of her neck, nausea wracking my body for a second time. The lightning died down, the window groaning down. Pulling myself out, hot air lashed at my cheeks. Wincing as I crept behind them, my dagger spun in my hand. Unable to transform it to the full length, my wits would be my friend. Terror contorted their features, my fingers curling around their collars. Stomping twice on the roof, the brakes squealing to halt had them flying off the roof. Hitting the roof, bones crunching poisoned the air as the brakes hissed off. Reversing the hearse, another wave of crunching had silent tears staining my cheeks. Crawling back towards the front, another gruff groan poured from my lips as I lowered myself back into the passenger’s seat. Bones clicked to place behind us, lightning crackling to life.
“Flood the road.” I spoke simply, his hand hanging out the window. Water flowed freely from his palm, the cold waves hitting their feet. Electricity met water, smoke curling off of their skin. Bringing his hand in, the engine roared with the increase of speed. Peeling onto pavement, lightning flashed in the distance. Curling into a ball onto his lap, his fingers played with my hair. Shutting the window between the back and us, his loving gaze had me smiling tiredly to myself.
“Not that it is any of my opinion but is there a reason you took off today on your own?” He growled through gritted teeth, the steering wheel crying out with his strengthening grip. “I thought you were dead and I can’t live without you damn it!” The others looked up at the plastic dividing us, pure annoyance glittering in my eyes. His tears plopping onto my cheeks stole away any rage I had. Instead of shouting back like I tended to in our fights, his point was valid.
“I am sorry.” I wept softly, everything hitting me. “I am so sorry! You must hate me for being such an asshole.” Shaking his head, he clutched me close to his chest. Kissing the top of my head, nothing needed to be said. Blurred images doubled, a rough slumber stole me away.
Stirring awake, the walls of my bedroom greeted me. Swinging my feet over the edge of bed, a simple onyx summer dress floated over my body. Leaning on the wall, the muscles in my legs screamed out in protest. Making my way along the wall, the warmth of my shadowy powers felt like a sweet hug. Limping down the stairs gingerly, Croak rushed over to me. Draping her arm over my shoulder, her presence felt like Heaven. Friends and family were sure nice to have around, her steady hands sitting me down on the worn leather couch. Staring around the room, the faded wallpaper was a new thing for me. Realizing that the living room walls have never seen my presence, hands cupping my face had me zipping back into reality. Croak’s minty breath bathed my face, her stern expression scaring me.
“What the hell were you thinking!” She berated me venomously, my ears pinning back. “You could have died! We are here to help you.” Hel stomped in, the demon brothers nipping at her heels. Waiting for more chastisement, a movie flew my way. Catching it, a fit of laughter burst from my lips. Parting my lips to speak several times, Hel held her hand up in the air.
“Tonight is movie night and that is that!” She huffed with her hands on her hips, my children bouncing up to me. The brothers grunted gruffly in agreement, the whole crew taking a seat. The bell rang, Wut coming in with a pile of pizzas in his palm. Cal and Morte came in with plates and a case of some sort of soda. Moving over for Morte, cheers erupted around me the moment Wut placed the pizza boxes on the floor. Putting in the movie for us, a rare moment of serenity bathed the space in its breathtaking warmth. Passing the slices around, the mouths were moving on the screen. No words were planting themselves in my mind, Morte leaning closer to me distracting me further.
“How are you holding up, Corspy?” He whispered while adjusting the girls on his lap, a tender blush rising to my cheeks. “Did you learn something on the last mission?” Pressing my lips into a thin line, something did stick out. Why would she work with someone who has water powers primarily? The one good thing that could come from that were a few traps but nothing else came of it. Another thing that haunted me was how many of those new goddesses existed. Thinking back on the details today, Roseworth skipped in with a pile of folders. Shifting Miles around, Roseworth pulling up a chair behind me. Lights painted her face, her breath bathing my neck the moment she craned forward.
“We gathered that the twins have seven new goddesses. Well, six now.” She explained calmly in my ear, Morte cocking his brow in our direction. “I am not on the up and up about how one creates a new religious system. Gods can’t exist without support, right?” Grimacing for a minute, part of that was true.
“In all technicality, one supporter is all you need. That is why her little religion works. As long as they worship those gods the system can exist.” I answered with an exhausted grin, my hand cupping hers. “Are these files on them?” Shooting me a steady thumbs up, a quiet thank you escaped my lips. Asking for a slice of pizza, gratefulness glittered in her eyes. Mouthing thank you, her eyes shifted to the screen. Mr. Bone would have cherished this moment, a long sigh drawing from my lips. Scratching at my cheek, Miles lowered my hand. Draping his arms around my neck, the boy buried his face into my shoulder. Rubbing his back, snores echoed in my ear. Hugging him tighter, tears of tainted bliss cascaded from my eyes. How long had it been since a child this small needed me this much? Basking in the warmth until the credits, protests bounced off the walls the moment I rose to my feet. Putting my free hand in the air, an odd silence came over the room.
“How about we do this once a week? Croak picks the movie next week and we will figure it out from there. I have to get this little guy to bed. Come on, girls.” Leaping over the couch, the sound of footsteps behind me reminded me of the good days. Climbing the stairs to their bedrooms, the girls began their night time routine. A broken smile lingered on my lips at them tugging on sweet pink nightgowns, the girls hopping into bed. Hugging the rabbits, life lit up in their eyes at the sound of my old time song. Tucking Miles in, my lips brushed against his forehead. Walking to the other side of the room, the girls giggled the moment my lips grazed their foreheads. Wishing them a good night, a soft stop had me staying by their sides.
“I love you!” They shouted together, time stopping. Fighting the tears, the girls wondering if something was wrong had me hugging them with a flurry of feverish kisses. Giggles twinkled in the air, Morte coming in. Wishing them goodnight, his hand took mine. Dragging me out, the light clicked off. Placing me on his back, curiosity peaked in my eyes. Stepping into the pale moonlight, a cool breeze had my loose hair floating up. Sliding off of his back, his hand spun me around to face him. Yanking me closer to his hips, his hand cupped my cheek. Tracing his skin along my supple skin, his fangs extended over his lips. Grazing my neck, a shiver shot up my spine. A pop signaled his fangs sinking into my skin, the gulps causing scarlet to paint my cheeks. Letting him drink his fill, this had been his way of keeping his composure. Releasing his bite with a satisfied gasp, my blood glistened on his lip. Licking it off, an apologetic smile haunted his features.
“We could barely take down one demon and now we have to take down two. How the fuck are we going to do that?” He complained bitterly, sliding his hand down to my waist. “We should win with you leading the charge.” Cocking my brow with a sarcastic right, my self-doubt was strong enough to drag me into its tumultuous waves. Hoping that he was right, the flames of hope had died down for the first time in a long while.

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How do you believe the plot will come to Highgarden in the series? (or... not?) Like Casterly Rock, Highgarden has been one of those places that we hear a ton about, but we never quite get around to ever seeing. Visiting there had been on GRRM's mind though - at least as far back as his Canadian Signing Tour in Jan 2006 where was said to have remarked part of his plan for AFFC was that "we'll definitely see Casterly Rock and may see Highgarden." Clearly a lot has changed since then... various plotlines have been restructured or shifted into future books (if not dismissed entirely). But in Dec 2012 he still maintained that:

There are other parts of Westeros that you will see in the last last few books I mean I haven't brought the action to to Casterly Rock yet you've never seen Highgarden I think both of those locations will will play key roles and in the books to come

And in the comment chain of his March 2015 Not-A-Blog 'Two Premieres' regarding Casterly Rock and Highgarden he tells us that 'Both settings will appear in the future, but not necessarily in WINDS.'
Of these two locations the introduction of Casterly Rock seems more secure in the short term - Jeyne Westerling is heading there and confirmed to have a presence in the TWOW prologue... which might mean we'll get a chapter at or on the road to Casterly Rock to help setup future events in this region. There's also a possibility that Cersei winds up seeking refuge here (as Kevan planned before his death) as things spiral out of control in King's Landing. And looking further out, Tyrion has made promises to the Second Sons for payments that rely on his capture of Casterly Rock.... he even has a dream of a battle that turns the hills of Westeros as red as blood (which calls the Westerlands to mind).
But Highgarden has no shortage of plots close by that could get us there too... with varying degrees of likelihood, but I still think the possibilities are fun to contemplate even if they don't ultimately find a way into your own canon. I'm really interested to hear your own takeaways on what GRRM might be planning for this location...

Samwell Tarly - Tears of Blood

Our first contestant: Samwell Tarly. It seems natural Sam may want to head east to his family lands of Horn Hill after departing Oldtown, and I'm hoping that Alleras/Sarella will be his travel companion at this point too. While Sam studies at the Citadel, he plans to arrange for Gilly and Dalla's child to stay with his family which could setup that reunion later (though alternatively there is a smaller chance Gilly migth take up the offer to stay with the crew of the Cinnamon Wind). The elephant in the room here is the aftermath of the Battle of Blood though and how exactly Sam will leave (or escape) Oldtown.... Will Euron pillage Oldtown? Or will he just pass by it? Personally I'm inclined think that Euron might be drawn to the magic at the Citadel, things like the glass candles or the Death of Dragons or Sam's horn. And Jon does have the dream of 'Sam drowning' and of 'Gilly weeping tears of blood', the drowning could be taken as a sign Sam will encounter the ironborn, but... interpret that as you will.
Regardless of what events transpire to get Sam to Horn Hill or out of Oldtown, eventually he'll need to continue on his journey, and with the sea presumably closed off, this likely means passing through Highgarden - the castle is just a short jump north of his family lands and stationed near almost all the key roads and river crossings, so it'd be difficult to miss. And one reason I like idea of Sam getting to Highgarden aside from the logistic side of things is that it would be a chance to offer a sympathetic pov within Highgarden's walls to whichever events are converging there.... Pov placement is important for major events and the only other options relatively close by currently are Aeron and Areo Hotah. In, I would say, most fans' estimations both of these character may not live much longer (Areo may run into trouble in his hunt for Darkstar, or Aeron at the Battle of Blood). But even in the interpretations where they do survive... Areo is usually assumed to head back to Sunspear, and Aeron to the Iron Islands. I actually do like the idea of Aeron surviving myself - detaching from the prow of the Silence during the battle, washing up somewhere, becoming Aeron 'the Twice Drowned' and eventually playing a role in calling together a second Kingsmoot per the Theon the Latecomer theory. As a drowned priest that's maybe one meaningful way he can defy Euron... In either case though it seems unlikely either of them wind up in Highgarden intact so if one of the nearby povs is destined to get there eventually... Sam's chances are looking pretty nice.

The Tyrells - Steel Thorns

Naturally we should expect to see some Tyrells at Highgarden - Olenna (and her twin bodyguards) and Garlan are already here, as is the heir to Highgarden, Willas (who never really left). But it also stands to reason that if things in King's Landing become unstable, Margaery, Mace, or Loras could someday follow suit (if they are in any condition to leave). Or could they leave on a more optimistic note (like a betrothal for Willas perhaps?). I'd enjoy hating seeing Randyll Tarly show up too, Samwell seems fated to confront him eventually right? But it depends on his loyalties... one of the subtler threats to Highgarden's defense aside from the fallout of the Battle of Blood could actually be Aegon calling his banners. If Aegon has the 'friends in the Reach' that the Golden Company believes he does, these houses abandonding the Tyrells could weaken them at a critical juncture.
Currently in the books Willas is helping to coordinate the defenses of Oldtown with Leyton Hightower by messenger raven, and last we hear of Garlan he is gathering men to try to retake the Shield Isles. That might be one of the more interesting off-page events happening as a prelude to the Battle of Blood, and while Garlan could always change tack and get swept up in the fighting for Oldtown, I'd like to think his planned attack of the Isles could inadvertently spare him from that fate allowing him and his men to play a role later in his home's defenses instead. One issue though? The Tyrells don't have the ships to launch their desired counterattack except for an assortment of river barges and pleasure boats that sail the Mander (which would be easy prey on open water). Lord Serry flees Highgarden with a small remnant of his own fleet from Southshield too, but these are just a few ships... So currently the plan seems to be to wait on the arrival of the Redwyne fleet to offer assistance but with the ironborn in the way, well, its hard to say how that will work out. Perhaps that's the point, Garlan ends up stuck at Highgarden with the men he gathered. But maybe a stealthy strike using a ragtag fleet while the ironborn are distracted in the south could work too? Its risky though...
I will say I do think the ironborn are probably destined to lose these islands eventually. When Nute the Barber boasts 'who will protect them now' of the Shields Rodrik tells him:

"Highgarden," replied the Reader. "Soon enough all the power of the Reach will be marshaled against us, Barber, and then you may learn that some roses have steel thorns."

This would prove the truth of those words. Even Euron doesn't truly expect the Shields to be held for long....

His brother’s smiling eye glittered in the lantern light, blue and bold and full of malice. “The Shields have served my purpose. I took them with one hand, and gave them away with the other. A great king is open-handed, brother. It is up to the new lords to hold them now. The glory of winning those rocks will be mine forever. When they are lost, the defeat will belong to the four fools who so eagerly accepted my gifts.”

The ironborn have some heavy hitters on the isles though (Andrik the Unsmiling, Harras the Knight, Nute the Barber) and I'd like to imagine Garlan the Gallant could end up in a fierce duel against Harras the Knight with the winner claiming the valyrian steel sword Nightfall. Though a sword called Nightfall that originated with a dead corsair makes me think it'd be pretty fitting if Euron eventually got his hands on it too.

Vultures of the Red Mountains

The troops in the Prince's Pass offer another potential intersecting force... these soldiers are commanded by the Fowlers and we learn they are restless, sharpening their spears waiting for the day they can exact vengeance against the enemies of Dorne. The Fowlers may be one of Doran's more rebellious bannermen too: the Fowler twins (Jeyne and Jennelyn) are very close with Lady Nym, they were with her when she learned of Oberyn's death and were probably none too happy with her imprisonment later. They notably reject the toast to Tommen when the skull is presented in the Watcher chapter too, which Areo takes as a sign that 'if there is trouble, it could start with one of them'. And when Arianne is trapped in the Spear Tower and tries to sneak out a plea for help past her father, she decides the best person to try to conspire with is Lord Franklyn Fowler, the Old Hawk.
If these troops are set loose they may start by razing the Dornish Marches nearby (towards Oldtown or Horn Hill perhaps), however... if they see Highgarden is lightly defended because of, say, their forces being distracted by the ironborn in Oldtown, they may descend on the stronghold of their ancestral enemy instead. Highgarden has been sacked once before by Dornishmen during the reign of King Garth X Gardener at least, though it does have some interesting defenses like its triple curtain walls, and the briar labyrinth to slow invaders. But what event could incite these troops to act? This could easily happen as the result of Arianne's allying with Aegon against Mace Tyrell, assuming she trusts this could be beneficial for Dorne. In this scenario the Fowlers would actually end up loyal to Doran and Arianne's wishes. But another more roguish option I think is Darkstar's plot - he'll be nearby soon in the Red Mountains and its implied he has support from High Hermitage. His past statements (and actions) hint at him wanting to force Dorne into a war with the crown. When Doran considers him 'the most dangerous man in Dorne' there might be more to that than just being an expert swordsman. Rallying the troops in these parts to attack the Reach could parallel him to past dornish outlaws, the Vulture Kings (its a cause Obara Sand may wish to join too, which could setup Obara vs Sarella down the line). 'We all have our family traditions'...

Euron Greyjoy - The Drowning of Roses

Perhaps foremost of threats to Highgarden is the one posed by Euron though. With the potential destruction of the Redwyne fleet and the scouring of the Shields the mighty but slow-moving river Mander would be open and undefended to the ironborn now 'as it was of old', providing a direct line of attack to Highgarden (as Loras warns Cersei)... a treasure trove just waiting to be plundered.

"Highgarden's close. I say, look for dragons there. The golden kind!" Alvyn Sharp said, "Why sail the world, when the Mander lies before us?"

But while many of the ironborn are eager to loot the Reach, Euron's sights are dead set on the Iron Throne not just gold and trinkets (Aeron's shade-of-the-evening induced visions seem to foreshadow him there at some point too). So does Highgarden work into his plan? Or is it too much of a diversion?
If Euron wants to attack King's Landing the first route that likely comes to mind is to take the ironborn fleet, swing it around Dorne up into the Narrow Sea towards Blackwater Bay. If that is the case Highgarden is fairly out of the way and it starts to seem unlikely. But there is perhaps a second path to the capital.... which would place Euron's goal of the Iron Throne and the ironborn desire to plunder the Reach in alignment, with Highgarden right in their crosshairs. We learn that due to the longships' shallow design they are able to navigate the Mander even as far upstream as Bitterbridge, which gives them a distinct advantage over most seagoing vessels (who will catch on the snags and sandbars in the Mander's muddy upper reaches). So potentially the ironborn could sail through the heart of Westeros rather than around it, sacking Highgarden on the way. That might work well for them because, while ironborn are natural seafarers, most longships are actually pretty weak against true warships (magic rituals aside) - They are smaller and mostly designed for hit and run style raids on merchant vessels and coastal villages. And even with Redwyne fleet out of the way they'd still have to contend with whatever's going on in the sellsail and pirate infested Stepstones if they set off east.
Though I do think that the original plan may have been for Euron to sail the sea route, stuff like the kraken-calling horn of Claw Isle and the valyrian steel axe do seem suspiciously ironborn-coded... I wonder if this may have been one of the casualties of Euron being removed from the voyage to Meereen.
The one drawback to the Highgarden/Mander route is that they can't sail all the way to King's Landing using the river, eventually the ironborn will need to disembark near Bitterbridge and take the Roseroad through the Kingswood to King's Landing for the final stretch. And interestingly that might actually fit with one of Aeron's visions:

Clad head to heel in scale as dark as onyx, he sat upon a mound of blackened skulls as dwarfs capered round his feet and a forest burned behind him.

A burning forest... While this could always be some minor or unnamed forest, it might be more impactful if its one of the more recognizable forests to us readers.... the Kingswood or the Rainwood. Unlike the Rainwood (which is probably too wet with recent storms to set aflame) the Kingswood lies in the drier rain shadow of the Red Mountains making it susceptible to wildfires. We've actually seen it intentionally set aflame once before by Stannis to 'smoke out the Imp's savages' leaving parts of it a 'wilderness of ash and charcoal and dead trees'. If Euron ends up burning the Kingswood this might lend some more weight to the river route rather than an attack by sea (because why detour into a wild forest when you could just attack the city directly?) Knowing he might get this far is dark tidings for Highgarden though, and for any other cities that stand in his way (including Longtable where Taena fled to).

Cersei Lannister - For Wrath

Which brings us to the last potential pov Euron might bring into this that I enjoy thinking about - Cersei. There is a chance Cersei winds up at Casterly Rock as chaos unfolds in King's Landing (Aegon's rise to power, fallout from her trial by combat, the Tyrells vs Lannister conflict heating up, perhaps even Tommen's murder, etc...) And if you subscribe to the idea that she is Euron's 'shadow woman' it is tempting to imagine that before Euron sails towards Highgarden he might travel a ways north to secure this alliance at Casterly Rock. This could setup a really interesting comeback arc for Cersei, one last chance to tear the world asunder as the Long Night descends. She's really been setup as a villain since book 1, so while a relative newcomer like Aegon could be the one to deal the final blow in Maggy the Frog's prophecy (his bride being the younger more beautiful queen, and a valonqar fitting in somewhere) it might be more rewarding for this to only be a temporary displacement from power so the prophecy can be fulfilled later when characters who have been with us awhile, like Tyrion or Daenerys or Jaime, can come together to ultimtely end her reign...And if Highgarden and the Tyrells are destined for destruction, wouldn't it be fitting if Cersei was there? The Tyrells, the source of so many of her imagined slights...
One thing I like to think about is in the final seasons of the show we get this one great scene where Olenna is confronted by Jaime about Joffrey's murder, and she is defiant even as she takes the poison to end her life. But it really never fit that much with Jaime's arc in the books. Jaime doesn't really care about Joffrey or even acknowledges him as his son, and probably is on a different trajectory with Brienne and LSH. And I'm not saying we'll get this exact scene, however... if Highgarden is doomed to fall and if the truth of Joffrey's murder is to ever come out, well, this would be the time for something similar to happen... Just switch Jaime with Cersei - If anyone wants to murder Olenna and demand the truth about her son's murder its her (not Jaime)... Even though she has a ton of the details of the murder wrong, and she sees Tyrion behind every plot, there was the Gardner coin planted in the gaolor's chambers which links the Tyrells to Tyrion's escape in her mind and thus to Joffrey's murder. And that last part at least is true... so she does have some basis to confront the Queen of Thorns. There's other ways the truth could start to leak out too (like Sansa's hairnet still being in KL). Cersei could relish in her demise while her castle is put to the torch....
~Thank you for Reading!~
TLDR - How do you believe the plot will arrive at Highgarden? GRRM has hinted a few times of wanting to bring the story to this location, so in this post I wanted to brainstorm some of the different ways I see us getting there.... some will undoubtedly be false. Could Samwell flee to his family home of Horn Hill after the events of Oldtown and then departing there arrive at Highgarden? And which of the Tyrells will be involved? Willas, Olenna, and Garlan are already nearby (and Garlan is gathering forces to retake the Shield Isles if he can find the ships), but maybe others will depart King's Landing at some point too if the circumstances change there... Could Fowler's men in the Prince's Pass be set loose on the enemies of Dorne and raid the Marches or the Reach's undefended castles while everyone is distracted by the Battle of Blood? Euron's ironborn are eager to pillage Highgarden too, though Euron has his eye set on the Iron Throne, perhaps both goals could be served if Euron's route to the Iron Throne is to take the Mander across the continent (which longships are uniquely suited to sail) instead of passing the long way around. And if Cersei seeks refuge at Casterly Rock at some point she might connect with Euron fulfilling Aeron's vision of the shadow woman by his side. This might her chance to get back into the game of thrones, wreaking vengeance against the Tyrells, possibly confronting Olenna about Joffrey's murder as Highgarden burns.

Packing my worn leather bag with supplies, Wisty embraced me from behind. Kissing the top of my head, Ravena smiled in the crook of his arm, the path into the Land of Life would be a difficult one. Spinning on my heels to face him, his black band t-shirt and ripped jeans reminded me of how he looked back then. Mother Nature and Granitos were going to pick me up to take me to Vivra, my fans feeling heavy in my boots. Cupping my cheek, his lips pressed against mine tenderly. A rosy blush colored to my cheeks, his hand sliding to the small of my waist.
“Be sure to come home, Asphy.” He mused sweetly, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “You do have a child to come home to.” Poking his nose, scarlet painted his cheeks. Flashing him a flirtatious grin, he had to know that I would come back in one piece. Three guardians would be able to protect me, Jean skidding into the room with Killer. His rifle bounced off of his dark green plaid shirt, his palms rubbing against his jeans. How could I forget about Jean himself?
“I am here!” He announced in a huff, kissing Ravena’s head as he took in my leather rockabilly dress. “Must you wear leather all the time and black at that.” Sticking out my tongue in his direction, he caught my playful punch. Winking in his cousin’s direction, Granitos showed up in a scarlet velvet suit. Mother Nature took my hand, Asphodels blooming along her vine robe. Vines groaned into a dome over us, a sweet breeze whisking us out of the realm of the reapers. Vines shrank back into her robe, my jaw dropping at the sheer amount of candles floating around us. Following her up a waxy pathway, the violet lights glowed ominously. Scales clicked together in the bottom, Mother Nature cursing under her breath. The pathway trembled dangerously, Master Skull appearing over my head. Tossing my bag into Mother Nature’s arms, my fingers plucked my fans from my boots. Flicking them into full length, another groan had all of us looking underneath us. Hisses bounced off the walls, Master Skull grinning ear to ear. Of course, my favorite guy had to show up. Why it mattered to him was beyond me? Perhaps he enjoyed being a little gnat that buzzed in my ear.
“I guess that candle is as good as mine.” He shrugged with an ever bigger grin, his boots hitting the pathway. “Have fun with my new friend.” Crashing away from us, hesitation dimmed my eyes. Urging us to go on, vines whipped in all directions as Granitos tugged on his cross earring. A sleek onyx blade with an upside cross hilt plopped into his hand. Jean dragged me towards Master Skull, his strong arms throwing me ahead of him. Landing roughly in front of him, blood ribbons swirled around him. His leather coat floated up, his sly grin meeting my defiant grin. When were these meetings going to end?
“I am afraid that fucking candle is mine.” I chuckled sarcastically, donning a bigger grin. “Dumb question, wouldn’t it benefit you if I collected everything and you kidnapped me.” Shrugging my shoulders, a huff escaped my lips at him charging at me. Sliding underneath him, my foot knocked him onto his ass. Taking me down with him, horror rounded my eyes at him throwing me off. Gripping the wax at the last minute, a pop prevented him from getting up. Sweat soaked my palms, a sorry escaping my lips as I kicked the weak path. Ominous cracking had Jean taking a step back, wax whistling by us. Summoning my feathers to protect the candles, my hand snatched his ankle. Throwing him underneath me, our bodies bounced off of waxy spikes. Grunting gruffly, spikes had impaled us both. Coughing up blood, our fans hacked away at the spikes. The tops hit the waxy cavern floor, wet sloshing noises echoed as we pulled ourselves off. Landing face down in a puddle of my own blood, a soft thud announced his landing. Struggling to our feet, blood plopped onto our boots. Catching our breath, his wound began to seal shut before mine. The bastard was using uppers, a quiet fear burning in his eyes at my feathers and fans darkening to a midnight black. Cracking my neck, the gaping hole in my stomach sealed shut. Feathers landed on my shoulders, a wicked grin spread across my lips. This level of power was my trump card, the last few jobs forcing me to hone in on it.
“You use drugs, I use my new powers. Seems fair, right?” I commented casually, a lump forming in his throat. “At least mine is a fair bet. Oh wait, you murdered someone important to me. Fuck you for that.” Jean landed a few feet away from me, Granitos holding him back with a giant silver snake head under his arm. Mumbling something in his direction, an excitement buzzed in his eyes. Pirouetting around spikes, Master Skull’s eyes couldn’t keep up with me. Popping up behind him, his blood ribbons sliced up my bare skin. Swinging my fans in the direction of his shoulders, a kick in the air had the metal edges slicing off his arms. Hitting the wax underneath him, I flipped over him to steal his fans. Scooping them up with grace, inky blackness devoured the metal. Crumbling in my hands, the power of my authority canceled the validity of his weapons. Leaning forward with a devilish grin, one blow had the sparkling ash dancing in the air. Thinking I won this little spat, horror rounded my eyes at his arms reattaching themselves. Consolidating his blood ribbons into a single giant curved blade, his real weapon had been revealed. Exhaustion slapped me in my face, the feathers and fans lightening back to their ivory color. Tripping over my own feet, a black mist overtook the space. Swaying slightly, the mist smelled rotten. Cracking his neck, he sauntered up to me. How the fuck did the scales tip his way this fast?
“Like my darkness?” He whispered harshly, gripping the collar of my dress as the others hit the wax. “I have been building it for years and you can’t stop me from me getting my fucking revenge! Sleep like a good g-” Vivra popped up behind him, her pink business suit standing out. Snapping her fingers, the mist disappeared into thin air. Smashing her fist into his back, his body flew into the air. Kicking him back into the air, her hand rolled over a tiny candle. Just how was she able to withstand his freaking mist!
“That is the first candle my mother made. Don’t worry about taking it.” She mused playfully with a wink, her hand catching him by his throat. “We have to make a new candle every century. Let me play for a minute.” Clawing at her hands, she spun him over her head. Throwing him into the wall, wax crumbled over his weakened body. Wonder brightened my eyes at my necklace floating up, the candle melting over the stone. Absorbing the wax, our second goal had been achieved. Vivra whistled sharply, the floor beneath him boiling into hot wax. Placing her hands in her pockets, she leaned forward with a sickly sweet grin.
“I suggest you leave before I boil you alive.” She giggled maniacally, my own body scrambling back involuntarily. Blood ribbons whisked him away, her attention falling on me. Crouching down to my level, the wax cooled back into the floor. Cupping my chin, she examined me for any wounds. Plopping down next to me, her arm draped over my shoulders. Too confused to speak, Wisty popping up killed any awkwardness. Grabbing Killer and Jean, he motioned for me to come. Murphy's law seemed to be in full effect today.
“We have an emergency.” He huffed with an apologetic smile, Vivra shooting him a knowing smile. Popping to my feet, his arms yanked me close to his waist. Chains whisked us back to the penthouse, screaming a few floors down captured my attention. Vivra popped up next to us, her appearance had me jumping into Wisty’s arms. Tugging on her gloves, a medical kit bounced at her side. Mulling over the fact that she was supposed to be back in her dimension, a clap in front of my face had me snapping back to reality.
“Time to bring another life into this world.” She sang gleefully, skipping past me. “Don’t stand there, your father wants to see you. He hasn’t seen Ravena and he won’t stop barking in my ears.” Wisty left to lay down Jean, Ravena cooing in his arms when he returned. Offering me his elbow, mine hooked around his. Stepping into the elevator, Feathers hovered around my dress. His beak stitched up any tears, his skills knowing no bounds. Killer barked at my feet, a rare sense of serenity came over me. Stepping out into the lobby, everyone waved at me on the way out. Shoving our way through the bustling street, the noise and chaos thinned out the closer we got to my father’s home. A couple of reapers let me in, my father burying me into a bear hug. Tears soaked the top of my head, the golden details of his suit glistening in the light. Releasing me, his arms scooped Ravena up. Clutching her close to his chest, fresh tears stained his cheeks. Her bat covered dress looked adorable on her, his hand waving us into his office. Crashing into his chair, a tray of cookies and tea waited for us. Hesitancy burned in my eyes, his free hand waving around.
“I made everything myself. So, no poisoning.” He assured me with a nervous grin, his lips grazing the top of his granddaughter’s head. “Sorry about how she came to be but you don’t have a scent anymore. To shut down your next question, she won’t give off her own until she is about sixteen.” Breathing a sigh of relief, her life won’t be destroyed completely. Fishing around his desk, he slid a pile of files over to me. Curiosity mixed with concern at the pile in front of me, Wisty tucking them into a worn leather bag before I could scan them over real quick. When did he get that? My eyes flitted between the two of them, something seemed a wee bit fishy. Playing with the hem of his t-shirt, Wisty looked seconds from exploding.
“What gives?” I demanded with a slightly annoyed tone, the two of them shifting uncomfortably. “You can’t hide shit from me. Spill it.” Clearing his throat, Wisty leaned onto his knees. Averting his gaze to the floor, a low growl rumbled in my throat.
“Master Skull is part angel. He was never human.” He answered with an anxious chuckle, my irritation dying down. “He doesn’t have wings but we don’t know what to do.” Why were people so scared of me? The thought raced through my head, my lips pressing into a pensive expression. How do you kill an angel who became a death bringer? Also, where was the fear that would have normally risen in me?
“Doesn’t change the plan.” I uttered simply, pouring a few cups of tea. “His death must happen. Come Hell or high water, I will find a way to kill him. Time on my hands after all. Let’s talk about how you can watch her when I am at work.” Tears of joy glimmered in his eyes, his natural smile brightening his tired features.
“Do you mean that?” He choked out through a wall of tears, a bit of sadness returning to his eyes. “I would be honored to watch your little nugget. What do you think, Ravy?” Her giggles twinkled in the air, her tiny fingers curling around his thumb. Mother Nature let herself in, a soft chuckle flooding from her lips at the sight of my father holding his granddaughter.
“Nice to see you two getting along. I have a proposal for you, my dear Asphy.” She offered with a sweet smile, her hand pulling up a chair next to me. “Let the council help you out. He is an enemy of us all. We can provide whatever you need.” Tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear, she slid a parchment paper in front of me. Scanning the words, nothing seemed out of place until the last line. That very last line placed me as the council leader, scarlet painting my cheeks. The other signatures were there, my father and mine being the missing one. Shaking my head while scrunching up the hem of my dress, her hands cupped my face.
“Please become our leader. No one has ever been up to snuff for the position. Well, until you. Raveno didn’t even come close.” She pleaded desperately, her eyes watching my father sign his name. “We need you to stabilize everything. The promotion can be scary but give it a shot.” Dropping her hands to her lap, my lips parted to speak several times. No! No ounce of desire existed for such an offer.
“Wouldn’t this make me in charge of everything?” I stammered nervously, scratching at the back of my neck. “I don’t think I can manage that on top of my cur-” The chair hitting the floor gave me pause, Wisty placing his hands on his hips. Fury mixed with passion, the corner of his lip twitching.
“Sign the contract! You are going to be what the world needs. I have watched you streamline the processes of death down here.” He pointed while waving his hands around, my hand covering my brightening blush. “Imagine how you can improve the world with this position.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, a golden quill floated into my palm. Placing the tip on the final line, the tip danced hesitantly across the line. Flicking the last letter, a black crystal bracelet appeared on my wrist. Shrinking down to fit my wrist, the metal welded itself into place. Tugging at it, the damn thing wouldn’t come off. Shit, there seemed to be no way out!
“That won’t come off.” Mother Nature teased blithely, her hand taking mine. “Thank you for becoming our leader.” Pressing her palms together, she rose to her feet. Vines stole her away to her realm, a long breath drew from my lips. Wisty fixed his chair, shame dimming his eyes. Someone knew about this as well, my foot tapping incessantly. Popping to my feet, I excused myself to check up on Teas. A distraction would be lovely right about now.
“Do you mind watching her for a couple of hours? Bring her to the dinner I am making for us.” I offered sincerely, his head nodding. “Wisty, let’s go.” Marching out of the house with me, his boots crunched a couple of feet behind me. The noise of the market roared to life, Wisty not complaining as I stopped to pick up dinner supplies. Greeting the doorman, Wisty pushed the button for Teas’ floor. Embracing me from the side, his lips brushed against the top of my head. Swiping the groceries from my hands, my heart fluttered at him lifting up my chin with my finger.
“Dinner will be my duty. See you at dinner, my dear.” He promised with a loving gaze, the door opening. Pushing me out, my feet hit the carpet. Residents poked their heads out, all eyes falling on me. Grimacing in my direction, blame couldn’t rest on them. The screaming was enough to make anyone tear out their hair. Walking down to Teas’ door, Shamus ripped me in. Pinning me to the wall, a clammy sweat drenched his skin. His ivory button shirt hung half open, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Diffuse this situation before it got worse, I shouted internally.
“Where have you been?” He hissed irritably, a lift of my wrist giving him my answer. “Sorry but she has been asking for you.” Releasing me, Teas lit up at the sight of me. Taking the seat by her bed, her sweat soaked hair clung to her face. Dabbing her face with an ice cold wash cloth, a worn smile met mine.
“I won’t leave your side until they arrive.” I promised with my real smile, her head nodding. Vivra made her way back in, an understanding was met silently between us. Working through the next couple of hours with her, a wail had tears staining my cheeks. Shamus paled on the other side of her, Vivra cutting the umbilical cord. Whisking him away to clean him up, Shamus clutched Teas close to his chest. Sobbing in each other’s arms, my hands crossed on my lap. Vivra brought their son back in, Teas reaching for him. Rocking him back and forth, the name Ronan flowed from her lips. Asking if I found the boy adorable, an honest yes had a tender blush rising to her cheeks. Tucking her hair behind her ear, I wished them luck as I rose to my feet. Shouting thank you as I left, Vivra joined my side. Perhaps my new friend required a bit of nourishment.
“Want to join me for dinner?” I asked shyly, her gloves hitting the bottom of the nearest trash can. “You must be starving after all that work.” Dusting off her suit, a nudge to my shoulder answered my question. Hooking her elbow around mine, our boots clicked into the elevator. The door clicked shut, her eyes falling on my new bracelet.
“Glad to see you stepped up to your calling. I saw it in your book. Trust me, the council will accomplish great things.” She comforted me with a lovely smile, pride glistening in her eyes. “I pushed for it. Don’t be mad.” Waving my hand around, she had nothing to worry about. The door clicked open to reveal my father and Wisty waiting for me at the table. Taking our spots, a pleasant conversation calmed my fraying nerves. Praying for success, the questions of the next step lingered in the air.

Have you ever wondered about things you’ve lost? That toy car you remember having as a kid. That ring you had, tight on your finger as you dove into the sea, but gone when you got out. That braided phone charger, your middle-school homework book, I could go on.
No need to answer. Everyone’s lost something, at some point, and never found it again. Their stories, without conclusion.
Most of us simply forget. We accept the fact that these things are lost, and quickly adapt to life without them. Just think… what a wealth to be found if one were able to recover what is lost.
Don’t be fooled, though - this isn’t inane conjecture. For the wanting man, there is indeed a way to stick your hand into the lucky dip, and wrench something back into existence, all for yourself. To keep.
To bind you.
As far as I can tell, there’s no one strict name for this ritual. Call it whatever you want - perhaps its true name has, too, been lost. The place you’ll be opening a gateway to, however, I’ve heard referred to mostly as the Cellar. Or the Basement, the Crypt, but at the end of the day, these are just labels, and aren’t conducive to getting what you want. What matters is that it’s the mausoleum of all things lost. If Hell is the absence of the light of God, then the Cellar is bereft of the light of reality itself - for what is lost, may as well not exist.
The constraints of our universe hold little sway there, and become as fluid as the ocean.
Before I get to the steps you’ll be following, and the risks posed to your wellbeing, it’s best to learn exactly what you’re going to need. Do NOT skip out on any of the following items: * A candle. Well, you don’t need a candle and wick per se, just any wax you can melt by hand. * A seal or mold of some kind. A signet ring is preferable, but the shape of the imprint you leave behind is mostly arbitrary - though I’d advise something circular, like a coin. * A pair of bound objects. This can, really, be anything, although I’d advise going with something you probably couldn’t separate by hand; a pair of heavy chainlinks, for example. * A driving tool, preferably a hammer and chisel. * Human tears. Arguably the most difficult ingredient to procure in a sufficient amount, because not only do you need a good 10ml of the stuff to be safe, the tears cannot be those of pain. And no, you can’t cut an onion and expect those tears to work, nor can they be those of depression or despair. They must be tears of grief, for grief is the hoarse, wailing voice of the lost, and when you call out, you might get an answer. * An heirloom of someone who has passed - even better if they were someone you were close with. A lover, a parent, a sibling, or a dear friend, just as long as you went through grief at their passing. Technically, this one is optional, but it sure as shit boosts your chances at a successful ritual. * An offering. You don’t actually need to have it with you at the time, but make sure you have something important to you that can be put up for grabs.
You’ll also need to find a rift. Now, don’t overthink this. You don’t need to go to the grand canyon, and you don’t need to find a portal - you’ll already be making one, in essence. All that matters is that you’re able to pour wax into it: a crack, a split, hell, you could use a pothole if you’d like. Not recommended, though. No point in performing the ritual if you get turned into pate by a garbage truck halfway through.
And as these things always go, try to be somewhere away from the noise. No need for interruptions. In any case, the Gatekeeper will demand your full attention - you don’t want to lose in his game. I’ve seen what happens to those who do, and trust me, you’re better off slitting your neck on the spot.
One more thing before I teach you how to go rooting around in the Cellar: even with a perfectly executed ritual, risk still remains. In the Cellar, rules of reality are fluid, broken and rewritten every second, which you’ll remember from earlier if you have an attention span wider than the hairs on your head - if not, you shouldn’t be here at all.
When lost things are left to fester down there, they may serve as the base for a random, chaos-borne physical (or metaphysical) property that doesn’t exist up here. To avoid clunky lingo, you can think of them as curses. Cultures of conceptual mold and algae that cling fast to their host.
Yes, curses. Don’t let that word scare you away - a curse can just as easily be a blessing, depending on whose hands it falls into. You might retrieve a jar that perpetually rains tiny diamonds from no apparent source, or a teddy bear that imbues you with superhuman levels of confidence. But, you could also get a compass that kills any living creature on the direct opposite side of the Earth from you, or a fog machine that you can’t turn off, and drains your blood to vaporize into mist, regardless of where you are.
Because you are bound to it.
Now let's get to the steps:
First, find an isolated location and a hole or crack in the ground. Place the two linked objects on the left side of the hole, and if you’ve brought an heirloom of a dead loved one, place it on the right. You'll need enough wax to melt and pour to fill the cavity you’ve chosen. Bringing a portable stove or a blowtorch is ideal to melt a large quantity of wax at once. Pour the wax into the hole, and sprinkle it with the tears of grief you've obtained while it's still fluid. If the wax sets before you can add the tears, the ritual is over. Allow the wax to cool until malleable, then form an imprint with your stamping object of choice, like a signet ring.
You can take a break here while you wait for the second sigil to appear beside your imprint. Once it has fully formed, drive the chisel into it with the hammer, as deep as you can. When you feel it can't be pushed any further, twist the chisel in place. You should hear a distinct sound - really, you can't miss it. The gate is now unlocked and will open.
If you’re wondering why I’m sharing this information, the answer is simple. The more seekers, the more you and I stand to gain. And for those compelled to search for what they’ve lost can anyone hope to stop them? Might as well make sure they’re well-informed, so I’ve chosen to document my last dive into the Cellar.
I chose an abandoned building on the outskirts of town where I was certain no one would interrupt. The moment I completed the ritual, a miasma began to spread and unfold from the cracked floor, and in the blink of an eye I was plunged into the depths. The first thing to greet me was the Gatekeeper.
Though his appearance can change, he most commonly takes the form of a decrepit old man covered in sores and scabs. His robes might’ve once been regal but now they were tattered and filthy. He wore a rusted battered crown and carved into his forehead, weeping and scarified was the word “KING.”
You cannot enter or leave the Cellar without a wager and challenge. You get to set some parameters for the challenge, so play to your strengths. If you’re smart, you can ask for a game of riddles or logic; if you’re athletic, you can ask for a test of strength or stamina. I always chose a game of hide and seek where I had to avoid capture for a period of time set by the Gatekeeper. I was good at it, and had always emerged from the Cellar unscathed.
As for the wager, what you stand to lose can’t be trivial. Could be your ability to walk, a loved one, even your life… Now before him, as I had done every time, I wagered the thing I value most. With empty eyes and a ravenous smile, he let me pass.
The Cellar always looks different and varies from person to person; you might find yourself in an ancient library stretching into infinity, every bookshelf lined with items long lost, or in an endless prairie with artifacts scattered about at random. Maybe it's a metaphysical space, partly shaped by your mind, I don't know. Just a theory. This time it was a dingy thrift store consisting of narrow corridors that wound and twisted around themselves to create a multi-story tangle of shelves, junk piles, and showrooms of old furniture. The air was rank, each inhale an acrid sting, and the lighting was dim orange.
A draft snaked its way through me, sinking bitter cold fangs into my bones, being here was a small agony unto itself. But the endless possibilities of what I might find drove me forward. I rummaged through some piles of lost things and found the usuals. A metric ton of socks, countless kitchen utensils, old photos, and anything else you can think of.
I’ve found ancient lost tomes and scrolls if you care to parse lost knowledge and mysticism. The only caveat is that they're all in long-dead languages. Relics and archaeological treasures are common too but I’ve never had any interest in them. Then there are the cursed objects, the ones almost all seek. You know when you’ve found one, the air is poisoned with a rancid odor and malice radiates outwards from them. Holding one in your hand should feel wrong, and deeply unsettling. Your blood runs cold, your chest tightens and your stomach twists itself into knots. You’ll ask yourself what the hell you’re doing here and what this thing is capable of.
All I can say is if you choose to pocket a cursed item you need to be incredibly cautious and aware from that moment forward because God knows what it can do. They’re unpredictable so carrying one around for an extended amount of time is a gamble and here time is inconstant and ever-shifting.
The one I found on this trip was a silver pendant with a black gemstone at its center. I snatched it and quickly and cautiously snaked around an aisle toward a new room. That’s the trick, never linger too long and always be on the move. There are things here… I don’t know what they are. Maybe they’re searching too or maybe they're part of the lost. But they’re never friendly, so try not to spend too long in any one area, five minutes maximum and move on.
Looping back around to a room to search again is improbable since this realm is prone to shifting and warping around. Which is why multiple trips are common amongst those who delve. I want to say it gets easier every time but consistently something new reveals itself to me, always malicious.
This time, winding around a corridor into a larger chamber, it was a black room. As in the light here was negative, inverting every color. My eyes strained and my head thrummed at the sight so I pivoted around to leave and find another way through. But things never go to plan in this place.
I froze at the threshold, pivoted to look behind me and glimpsed it for a mere moment as it ducked behind an alabaster wall. Tendrils like wisps of black smoke coiled out of sight. Stalker. I’d rather face the negative room and its unknown than an abyssal stalker and so I turned back around and stepped into the anti-light.
The darkstone pendant shone with a warm, greenish-yellow light in the black room, like a luminescent moss. Examining it more closely as I turned it in my shaking hand, a surge of recognition hit me of a sudden: a New England beach town, my first love. Mariel.
We’d decided to take a trip there for a few days in fall during college, and she’d given it to me as a memento of our first trip together. A small hunk of some glassy, black material, probably onyx or obsidian, with a thin, red fissure running through it, all hung on a delicate silver chain, as tenuous as love itself. A heart had been carved or chipped into the black stone, the red stripe coursing through its center.
It had gotten misplaced some months later in our apartment, the loss sparking our first row. First of many, truth be told. In my mind, this fight was linked to our inevitable (and, to my mind - wholly avoidable) breakup. But, the bond we shared, Mariel and I, had been broken. What happened to her after we split was not something I could let my mind delve into - too much to do right now to let that distract me, and fear made me stay on task in this unnatural place.
If lost items took on an infectious, almost fungal nature here in this moldy place of living nightmares…what would happen if I moved deeper? Could it be reversed? Could the depraved, parasitic nature of the lost things become…a thing of hope? Or reunion? I dare not wish for such a thing. Mariel was lost to me and it was folly to think she should ever become mine once again. For if she did, would she be the same as I once knew her, pale and kind, sweet as a bud in spring? Or would the trickery and deception of this dank place transmogrify her into something inhuman? I didn’t have the time, or the wits, to think on it further,
I pocketed the charm and listened for the spectral being I had seen in the alabaster room. Was this being the Gatekeeper I had heard of when I first learned of how to unseal and delve into this forbidden place? Or was it something worse, and far more defiled, that dwelled below the Cellar?
Though I may have heard a faint scraping sound, no lumbering beast appeared, nothing slouched towards Bethlehem to be born, so I crept onward on tremulous legs. As I left the black room, I noticed a small group of moths flying away from it on dusty wings. It was that dark.
The next room was again lined with shelves, brick walls dancing with candle light. The shelves sagged with row upon row of dusty books, ornate sketches of unholy words in rolls, small jade figurines, dozens or hundreds of other items. The light in here was of the same quality as the obsidian pendant gave off in the black room; warm, slightly yellow, a shade of sickly green mixed in. This room in the old shop smelled of candlesmoke and old paper - a smell I had always loved, since my family ran a small bookstore in Virginia. Alongside this familiar smell was one of corruption, acidic rot, a foul sense of loneliness and abandonment. I think the fact that the Cellar plucks relevant ideas from your life to construct its space was what made it form this room for me, but it added its own hint of malice alongside it.
As I explored this new space, I was acutely aware of a sudden drop in temperature and my skin broke out in a rash of goosebumps, my armhair standing erect. Nothing moved in the shadows, but I was aware that I was once more not alone, and the feeling unnerved me. A soft sweeping sound, fabric moving against rough brick, perhaps, seemed to emanate maliciously from behind me. I glimpsed another of those smoky tendrils as it slowly crawled across the floor and curled around my ankles, like an evil cat cozying up to you in a cursed bodega.
The brick room seemed to go only up - the short hallway I was in ended in another brick wall, two wrought-iron sconces holding dripping, flickering candles. The ceiling seemed impossibly far away, disappearing into a foul gray mist hundreds of feet up; no escape there. I scoured the shelves for anything that might aid me in evading the cursed definitely-not-a-bodega-cat creature.
The sibilant sound intensified slightly behind me, and more dark, malevolent spirals appeared on the floor. I rifled through the items on the shelves hurriedly; a hunk of greenish glass, cracked and crazed, that seemed to glow subtly in the dimly-lit room; a cloth child’s doll, string hanging where the button-eyes had been plucked out, rough black thread sewing the red gash of a mouth shut. The last one made my bowels shake with fear, though I could not have confessed why, even if I was held at knifepoint.
The temperature dropped a few more degrees and a tremulous shiver ran through me. As I sifted through the items on the rough, wooden shelves, my shaking hand closed on something even colder than the room itself; a strange chrome hammer with a very small head and a long handle, the word FREEMAN stamped on it. Sitting next to it was a long, sharp metal object, ending in a small, flat blade with a mean edge. It was about the size of a standard household screwdriver, but this was nothing you’d ever find in your old man’s toolbox, even if he did handiwork in Hell. Danvers State Mental Hospital: Ward 9 had been etched into the haft of the object.
A thought began to form in the back of my mind.
What if I…
No, I countered (myself) - It won’t work - it’s utter madness.
My reveries were interrupted by an intensification of the sound behind me and a thickening of the black fog, now swirling around my knees. My fear swelled and deepened.
Moving quickly, I grabbed the small hammer and screwdriver-looking object. I approached the brick wall, the dark, swirling shapes now seeming to tug at me. My legs felt the way they do in bad dreams, as if walking through switchgrass or wading in deep water. I reached up for one of the candles, lifted it out of the sconce with trembling hands and leaned in to examine the wall.
*There. *
A small fissure in the mortar between bricks. The bricks on either side of the crack stuck out just enough to make a small shelf. The rift was no larger than a pencil, but it would have to do.
Now, I know there are rules here in the Cellar, and I know I don’t have all the requisite items with me. But, perhaps, I had enough of them. Perhaps the fact that everything… changes down here, that even this place doesn’t follow its own rules, might let me bend whatever guidelines there were just enough that I could pull it off.
A thought came to me in this dank and mildewed place, filling me with a new species of fear: what lies beyond the Cellar?
I quickly separated the black pendant from the silver chain and hung the chain to the right of the crack. The rough, uneven bricks provided enough purchase that the tiny chain could be suspended, although the grip was tenuous at best. (Much like my current grip on reality, I thought). The pendant itself would have to serve as the seal.
Another quick scan of the shelves turned up nothing that could be described as anything linked. No chains, no cufflinks, no…
Hold up.
I quickly snapped two links from the silver pendant chain and held them in my shaking palm. In all my years of performing the ritual, I had never seen anything so small, so pathetic. But, it was all I had. I put them on a wee outcropping of brick to the left of the crack, carefully so as not to drop them, although my quivering hands meant that I had to try three times before they settled into their place. They looked as small and as fragile as two hummingbird eggs.
The black smoke twisted and grabbed around my waist as I tipped the candle and dripped the wax into the small void between bricks. I completed the next steps of the ritual and stepped back.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
I don’t know if my half-assed version of the ritual didn’t work once you were already in the Cellar. Perhaps the linked items didn’t work, or the seal was wrong. Of if my thinking itself was wrong and the rules that applied in the world also applied down here, but I didn’t have time to find out.
Whatever had been stalking me had just turned the corner, leaving me trapped in the brick-lined hallway as the black smoke seemed to turn solid and root me to the floor.
I braced for the impact I knew was coming any second now. With the hammer in one hand, and that screwdriver thing in the other, I kept my eyes peeled on the fog. I was in flight or fight mode, and the flight option had been taken from me.
The scraping I’d heard earlier paled in comparison to what I was hearing now. The sound of the scraping was intensified, and beneath it was another sound entirely. It was a sound I’d only ever heard in movies, all squishy and fleshy. The kind of thing a foley artist would get from peeling off chunks of raw meat and rubbing them together vigorously.
Next came the smell, all toxic and rotten. It made my eyes burn and water, clouding my vision. It burned my nose and throat, leaving a strange acidic taste in my mouth. Fear gripped my spine. Whatever this thing was had more or less disabled me and I hadn’t even seen it yet!
Just as that thought settled in my brain, it slowly emerged from the fog before me. No description I can provide here will truly do it justice, though I’ll do my best.
It was all tea leaves and Rorschach to me. Shapes that should make sense to my brain, but for whatever reason weren’t. Its structure was somewhere between melted wax and slime, so even if some semblance of shape was briefly recognizable it was always shifting.
The only thing that made sense was its mouth, as far as enormous rotting maws full of goo dripping razors made sense anyway. Unable to focus on the rest of its face, that’s what I stared at.
So, there I stood, unable to move and facing my impending doom. In that moment, I did what any sane person would do in that situation…I pissed myself. Most of it was from fear, but there was a tiny little voice on my head that insisted it was in defiance. If it was going to eat me, the least I could do was make myself smell and taste less appealing.
It scraped and oozed its way ever closer, until it was standing directly in front of me. It places ruined and vaguely hand-shaped things on my shoulders and leaned in. The tea leaves and Rorschach shifted again, this time creating some semblance of a face as its structure hardened.
Two endless pits appeared where eyes would have been in a normal face. From them seeped the same greenish-yellow light I’d seen earlier. Two slits appeared below them as it leaned in to sniff me.
Suddenly, my senses returned to me, I raised the hammer and… I’m going to start calling this thing a pick now. Typing the words screwdriver thing just isn’t doing it for me. So, yeah, I raised the hammer and the pick as it leaned in. I quickly positioned the pick in the center of its forehead and slammed the hammer down on the flat edge of it, driving that pick right into the creature’s brain.
With the lobotomy achievement unlocked, I took a moment to breathe. I’d done it! I’d…made it angry. Its mouth opened wider and a roar ripped from its throat with all the effects of a concussion grenade. My hearing was shot and my brain was acting like I was under water. My feet suddenly came free from the floor and I stumbled backwards and fell onto my ass.
It continued to roar as it moved forward, slime still dripping from the razors in its mouth. My ears were ringing so hard I couldn’t even hear the scrape and squish from earlier. I scooted backwards until my back hit a wall. There was nowhere left to go.
Closer it came, looming over me now. The slime coated my face as I stared up into that roaring maw. I could feel it burning my skin. I lost myself in the endless pools of sickly light as I waited to die.
The hand-like shapes grabbed my ankles and tugged hard as it turned, dragging me behind it. I could feel every crack of the uneven floor as it tore my clothes and scraped my skin. I ditched the hammer, useless without the pick still stuck in the creature’s skull. I was on the lookout for anything I might be able to use when I noticed the pendant and its broken chain. I palmed it, chain and all, as I slid by it.
On we went, it dragged me through the maze of rooms and corridors to some mysterious destination. Some floors were smoother than others, and for those sections I was thankful. My clothing was being quickly reduced to shreds, and if this journey went on much longer I feared the same would happen to my flesh.
I’d seen things that might be useful as we went, but nothing that was within my reach. The creature never stopped, and there was no way to increase my height while in a constant state of movement. I managed to hold the pendant above my head. It glowed much more strongly now, and it illuminated the creature dragging me away. Except, what I saw was not a monster. A frail, naked woman, gripping me with impossible strength. Just before I gave up and closed my eyes, she turned to me, and the fraction of a second my eyes remained open was enough for me to recognise the face that stared back. And good God, it scared my brain blank.
By the time it released its grip on me, we’d just entered an area that emanated pure darkness. With the sheer amount of pain I was in, I almost didn’t realize the pressure around my ankles was disappearing. The floor here was smooth and cold, soothing my aches just enough to sober me, but not enough to take them away.
I stayed that way for a while. It’s impossible to say how long I was laying there in the darkness. My hearing was slowly getting back to being useful, and I neither heard nor felt any sign of the creature’s presence now. Eventually, the adrenaline fled my system and the pain took over completely.
Just as my eyelids began to droop from sheer exhaustion, a bright light flooded the room and nearly blinded me. It shocked me awake and I scrambled to get my legs beneath me. I turned to look around the room on wobbly legs, trying to determine from which direction the danger would come from next.
As my eyes adjusted, the light seemed to dim and become stained with the same tint I’d seen in the creature’s eyes - sickly, sallow green. The first thing I could identify was far above me. Hanging, like a chandelier from a ceiling drenched in shadow, was a black moon. Beams of glowing midnight fanned out from it, revealing that the Cellar’s structural elements were gone. Only one structure stood before me.
A great podium of pockmarked ashen rock, perhaps basalt, rose about three stories high, with a spiraling staircase hewn from it, coiling to the very top. The tower rested on nothing, and a sudden wave of vertigo took me when I noticed chunks and chips from the tower, suspended in motion below it, below where I was standing, as if God had pressed pause at the moment of its ruin and forgotten to press play again.
Placed on the flat peak of the tower, sunworn with most of its spindles either snapped or missing, was a chair. Maybe oak, but it was too far gone to tell. And atop that, resting in the chair as if it were a notice of reservation, I saw a battered crown. A crown better fit for melting down than to be worn with any dignity. And yet, past the ugly skin of it, I sensed temptation, so deep and eternal it inspired an almost primal sense of want - no, better yet, need. I had to have it, without being sure why.
On the periphery of this void space, I detected movement. Figures wreathed in dark, shifting and shuddering. I had no fear, I simply ignored them and approached the bottom of the stairs, entranced.
A few steps, and I hissed in pain. My palm burned. The pendant, yes, I’d managed to grab it while being ferried to this place. Now, in the presence of the black moon above, it radiated both light and searing heat. I threaded the broken chain through the loop affixed to the pendant and held it up in front of me.
Like an oil lantern, I thought.
The light… it had a special quality about it. I remembered how it illuminated the creature’s face, and–
My skin flushed. No, that wasn’t real. A trick of the mind, of the light in the Cellar. That’s all. That reasoning was made ever more flimsy when I shone the pendant on the tower. It looked different in the light. At first I was unable to distinguish what stood before me, so I took a few steps back.
A skeleton. Two skeletons, in fact, entangled in death. The first and largest of the two appeared to be that of an enormous, winged humanoid, an outstretched hand serving as the chair in which the crown was nestled. The second was that of an equally massive serpent, coiled around the first skeleton, its head trapped beneath the winged humanoid’s reaching hand.
I hadn’t appreciated the thick silence until it was broken. A voice rang out, saying,
“Is one such as thee so uncaring, or simply aloof?”
Without needing to see its source, I knew exactly who that voice belonged to.
“Nope. Just bored and curious.”
The voice erupted into a dry cackle, and the void moon in the sky pulsed in rhythm. I tore free a hanging shred from my shirt, all ripped up thanks to that creature, and used it to swaddle the pendant, muffling the sight of the two skeletons. Again, I saw a stone tower, and I promptly made my way to the staircase and began to ascend.
I soon reached the top, a plateau that suggested the tower had once been much taller, but at some point, was cleaved apart. I tried not to think of what could have possibly done such a thing, instead turning my attention to the chair.
It was occupied. Sitting in it was a man, facing away from me, wearing that same battered crown. The tattered ribbons of his robes seemed to float, as if underwater, and parted to make way as I rounded the chair to stand in front. The man’s eyes looked so empty. The scars on his forehead spelling the word “KING” wrinkled in a scowl, and those eyes remained unfocused as he spoke again.
“At least you know now.”
“Know what?” I replied.
“That this is all there is. You can go no further. There is nothing beyond this accursed tomb. Regardless, you did something you should not have. Did you come here with a death wish?”
“I…”
The gravity of the situation came crashing down. Here I was, in the Gatekeeper’s domain, utterly helpless to do anything but listen as his voice emerged again like crackling embers, reignited by the wind.
“There, in thine hand. You cannot hide it from me, you know.”
I stuttered, fighting for air. At this, the Gatekeeper’s lips stretched into a cracked and inflamed smile.
“What else? Is this fool dissatisfied with his new plaything?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised by my own aplomb, “I guess I’m looking for something else. Rest assured, this here pendant is the only thing I’ll be leaving with, physically speaking.”
His smile fell to a smirk, accompanied by a cocked eyebrow.
“And again I ask; art thou without empathy, or simply lacking sense? You would stand there, in front of me, whilst the wager is in my hand, and think nothing of it?”
“But I haven’t lost yet, have I?”
“You were going to leave with… show me.”
I shielded the cloth-wrapped pendant from view.
“Why?”
“I beseech thee, show me!”
Reluctantly, I extricated it from the layers of cloth, and presented the pendant, chain and all. On seeing it, the Gatekeeper devolved back into a rasping chuckle.
“Ah, that. How coincidental!”
“How so?” I asked cautiously.
“Thy wager, maggot. That which you love most, and hold most dear to thy glassen little heart. Do not deceive thyself; you saw her, didst thou not? That pendant is a special relic indeed.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. That creature…
“I… I saw… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Immediately, all the smugness dropped from his face. His sore-ridden skin contorted with anger, lined by warty ridges. He shot up from the chair, a way that didn't seem to utilize three dimensions. Made my head hurt. It was as if he’d vanished and materialized standing face-to-face with me. He spoke in a growl of controlled wrath.
“Oh? Hast thine eyes become foggy? Then let it be made clear: last time, I let you believe you won. You did not. Thus, the wager for this visit - being the same one you’ve used every time - was, how to put it… expired. What– who you love most. Well, loved most.”
The Gatekeeper threw his head back and snorted. The very thing I hadn’t wanted to accept crawled down my throat and settled in my stomach, heavy as molten lead, and shrouding my head in a contradictory haze of confused clarity. Then, the Gatekeeper made my fears into reality.
“Oh Mariel! Be a dear and come up for tea.”
Out there in the shadows, one of the shifting figures changed. It crept into the light, became more real somehow. I didn’t turn to look. I couldn’t. Whether it was from some occult force or sheer terror, my muscles wouldn’t budge an inch.
But I could hear it. Wet, frictional, and strangely manufactured, a sound hailing an overpowering stink, growing stronger with every encroaching step, mustard gas, rotten eggs. My eyes began to water from the stench.
My arm rose up with a mind of its own, directing the pendant towards the top of the stairs. Black moonlight burned darker still to resonate with it, invigorating it, and bathing the newly emerged figure in light. For a moment, a fraction of a second, it was all Rorschach and swirling tea leaves again. Teeth like stalactites dripped with secretions below a pair of deep, glowing pits.
The creature entered the light, and stopped.
She looked so, so unhappy. Standing there, naked and withered, all her hair, gone. Her teeth too, leaving behind rotten, puffy gums. Only one eye had been plucked out - not because of any mercy, no. It was more like a punchline. A perverted joke. But one eye was all she needed to convey a kind of anger I’d never seen before. A kind of anger that needed no coal to fuel it. A kind of anger that can never be extinguished. If it weren’t for her emaciated body, she’d have flown into a rampage - and even if she could, no catharsis would ever be enough. She’d have torn me to shreds, she’d have skinned my mother alive in front of me and still it wouldn’t be enough. I barely felt the tears streaming down my cheeks under the scrutiny of that single eye.
Tears right for the ritual, I thought.
I tried to speak, to say anything at all, but my throat was tight shut. Either way, the Gatekeeper was satisfied.
“I may be one to withhold information, but I am no more a liar than you are honest to thyself.”
He paused to gaze at her. At my love. At the thing I valued most, and it really hit me then. The magnitude of what I’d lost. Not just Mariel, but my trust in… everything. Gone.
“Okay, Mariel. That will be plenty from thee.”
With a flick of his wrist, the Gatekeeper sent her tumbling through the air, off the tower, and back into the dark, where she will remain until the stars themselves are lost.
“Worms, the lot of them. They don’t understand the purpose of this place, of why it was made. Of what it houses. It is something demons covet, and that God sent angels seeking for. Do you seek it, sojourner?”
I felt whatever force that held me in place lift from my body, and I wheeled around to face the Gatekeeper again, staring him down with my smoldering indignance. The pendant, as if empathizing, flared, bright as a tungsten filament, more than enough to illuminate the face of the man before me - and his, too, was a facade.
Gone was his giddy rictus, bloated with greed and derision. The eyes now staring deep into my own were dour and heavy - not with wrath, but misery. It made Mariel look quite comfortable by comparison. It was the face of the first to grieve, of one whose eyes have cried themselves dry as salt.
His voice underlined that sentiment. A withered croak that told of ancient ruins lost beneath desert sand and, above all, sounded unequivocally honest.
“I… it is no treasure they seek. Power it is not, nor any blessing of the sort. I have been its keeper for… since… I don’t know. Too long.”
The Gatekeeper laughed, but it was hollow and came out more as a flurry of gasps.
“Do you want to know?”
A cold chill flushed my entire body. I know the right choice would’ve been, “no,” but the only thought running through my mind was, “I’ve come this far.”
So I nodded.
“What could have such value, that God Himself cannot already conjure? Well, in a way, He did create it. But it was an accident. A side-effect, a natural byproduct of the creation of something that lives on to this day, something that continues to exist within all of His children on Earth. It is the shadow of that, and also the relinquishment of it. I speak with you now freed from its grasp - the one you have been speaking with is not me. I do not– cannot control this vessel. I can only observe as it acts on its own.”
“Just tell me!” I yelled, not out of impatience, but mounting terror. The Gatekeeper continued as if he hadn’t heard me.
“ I still don’t understand why it does the things it does. It shouldn’t be doing anything, because it is the anti-will. The shadow of agency, the counterpart that was necessary to be born to allow the freedom of choice, the very same you used to decide to visit this place. I don’t know what that pendant is, but oh, it is good to breathe again. To speak. The ones who covet the anti-will… perhaps I’m too small and insignificant to comprehend their motives. Why, God? Why would you want to abandon yourself? Please, my friend, you have to free me, you–”
I’d heard enough. In one shaky motion I drew back the pendant, and no sooner had I stashed it away than the Gatekeeper leapt at me, all his rage and hunger returned. I understood now. The entity before me was impossible, and yet here it was. The emptiness where a will should be, not only acting by itself, but grabbing me by the throat to pull me in close.
“Answer me! Wilt thou, or wilt thou not?”
I strained to force words past cold fingers tightening around my windpipe.
“W-what? Will I what?”
“DAREST THOU TEST ME!?”
Had some hidden conversation taken place when I was speaking with the Gatekeeper - the real one? Had something been asked of me? I didn’t have time to rationalize, all I knew was my vision was turning black, so I did all I could think of to release myself.
“Yes, okay, yes I will, I–”
With that, he let go, spilling me onto the ground where I clawed at my throat and gasped for air.
“Very well. Thou hast come far, and so I bestow upon thee this gift. Remember, one thing at a time, so I will be taking this. Don’t be greedy.”
He bent down and snatched the pendant, still glowing dimly. Without pause, he straightened, and pointed a finger directly upwards, at the black moon hanging above. On cue, it burst like a popped water balloon, raining a supernova of shadow down on my shivering body. I felt the ground disappear from under my hands. I rose, up and up towards an empty filament, and with one final glance, I saw the Gatekeeper. The power released from the shattered moon reinvigorated the pendant and it shone on his face. That tired, eternally tortured face. It was smiling. His body seemed to decay in time lapse into flakes, flittering away in an unfelt breeze. With the last vestiges of his strength, I heard him whisper something that sounded like,
“Thank… you… from the bottom of my heart…”
A dark tunnel filled with blinking lights - or eyes - and the sensation of something worming its way inside my body.
Then, I was back. Back in the abandoned building on the outskirts of town. I checked myself, no pendant, as I expected. Was the Gatekeeper telling the truth? The anti-will? I didn’t understand. Had I reAlly bEEn givEN THE DEATH OF CHOICE???
STOP THIS I suppose the Gatekeeper must have punished me for breaking the rules, and forced me to leave empty-handed. Yes, that’s it; empty-handed.
Now, most of you reading will have thought by now: why share this experience? How does it provide any significant insight into the ritual itself?
I think it’s as simple as being prepared. Would you go skydiving without seeing some footage beforehand? Would you tempt the wolves, not knowing their predilections? If so, well, fools are still welcome in the Cellar, but it’s more fun when there’s a challenge.
I’m running out of time. If I want to get this out there, it needs to be done now. I’ve inherited such a terrible curse wonderful gift, and what is a game without the gamemaster?
So come on, plunge your hands into the lucky dip, take your pick and GET OUT LET ME OUT go home a little richer. Or perhaps you’ve lost something - in which case, I know just the place to search, so come and take back what is rightfully yours. Or something that isn’t. THIS IS NOT M Serendipity, I say.
I look forward to the fun we are going to have.

Finally found a series that scratches my "missing ACOTAR itch". The Sacred Stones books by Kate Golden. I read the first two in unders 48 hours over this weekend.
9 crystal based kingdoms, has kidnapping, enemies to lovers to enemies, anxiety representation, touch her and die, daddy issues MMC/childhood abuse FMC, chosen one. Lots of world-building, cultures, politics, friendships, working through trauma, bad-ass FMC. There is very little smut in the first book but a lot of mutual pining. A lot of similarities between the onyx kingdom and the night court. Shadow Daddy Kane Mythology and folktales: Witches, griffins, dragons, fae, strix, vipers, salamanders, seers my own theory of another myth we'll see in book 3.... ;)
The second was released just a week ago. I'd never seen anyone talking about them until I stumbled on the author's instagram. There's very little hype and it's absolutely insane. Be prepared to kick your feet and giggle at sexy banter in the rain. And want to throw your book across the room at the last book's epilogue. The third and last book comes out in october.
The description from GoodReads:
"Captured by a king of darkness. Forced to find the light within.
Arwen Valondale never expected to be the brave one, offering her life to save her brother’s. Now she’s been taken prisoner by the most dangerous kingdom on the continent, and made to use her rare magical abilities to heal the soldiers of the vicious Onyx King.
Arwen knows better than to face the ancient, wicked woods that surround the castle on her own, which means working with a fellow prisoner might be her only path to freedom. Unfortunately, he’s as infuriating as he is cunning—and seems to take twisted pleasure in playing on Arwen’s deepest fears.
But here in Onyx Kingdom, trust is a luxury she can’t afford.
To make it out of enemy territory, she'll have to navigate back-stabbing royals, dark magic, and dangerous beasts. But untold power lies inside Arwen, dormant and waiting for a spark. If she can harness it, she just might be able to escape with her life—and hopefully, her heart."
And if all of that isn't enough to convince you maybe this photo of the MMC will:
Art of Kane Ravenwood posted by the author

I'm looking for (more) gamebooks with a strong piratey or general seafaring theme.
I love nautical/maritime/seafaring literature, both fiction and non-fiction, especially pirate-themed stories and histories, and I would love to play more gamebooks (and/or simple branching-plot books) that feature these elements.
I think I'm aware of most of the big ones, which I'll list below, and hopefully this list and can help others who are also interested in these themes and unaware of what's out there. But if there's anything not on this list you think I should know of, please let me know.
Ones I've played:

• Down Among the Dead Men, by Dave Morris (Critical IF/Virtual Reality series)
• Over the Blood-dark Sea, by Dave Morris and Jamie Thomson (Fabled Lands series)
• Marooned, by James Schannep (Click Your Poison series)
• Terror of the Ice Pirate, by Tom Perrett (Rugged Kingdom series)
• The Golden Age of Pirates, by Bob Temple (You Choose series)
• Pirate Treasure of the Onyx Dragon, by Alison Gilligan (Choose Your Own Adventure series)

Ones I haven't played yet:

• Seas of Blood, by Andrew Chapman (Fighting Fantasy series)
• Bloodbones, by Jonathan Green (Fighting Fantasy series)
• Pirates of the Splintered Isles, by Oliver Hulme (Legendary Kingdoms series)

Ones mentioned in this thread (alphabetical order):

• 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, by Deb Mercier (Can You Survive? series)
• The Artifice Archipelago, by Connor Wilkinson and Michael Reilly
• Blazing Beacons: The Spanish Armada, by Simon Farrell and Jon Sutherland (Real Life Gamebooks)
• Bound for Australia, by Nancy Bailey (Time Machine series)
• Captured by Pirates, by Justine Fontes et al. (Twisted Journeys series)
• Conan and the Queen of the Black Coast, by Robert Traynor (GURPS series)
• The Crimson Sea, by Gary Gygax and Flint Dille (Sagard the Barbarian series)
• Death's Drum, by Allen Sharp (Storytrails series)
• Demons of the Deep, by Steve Jackson (Fighting Fantasy series)
• En Busca del Paso Secreto and Hacia el Nuevo Mundo, by Mariano Rodríguez Tudela, Jaime Collyer, and Patricia Fernández (Viaje en el Tiempo series)
• Find Your Way to Muppet Treasure Island, by Kate McMullan (Find Your Way series)
• First Command, by Ken St. Andre (Tunnels & Trolls: Sorcerer's Apprentice series)
• Forgotten Waters, by Isaac Vega et al. (Plaid Hat Games)
• The Goonies: Cavern of Horror, by William Rotsler (Plot-It-Yourself Adventure Stories series)
• In Search of a Shark, by Peter Lerangis (Explorer series)
• The Island of Illusions, by Dave Morris and Oliver Johnson
• The Isle of Torment, by Dean Moodie (Altered Fate series)
• Journey Under the Sea, by R.A. Montgomery (Choose Your Own Adventure series)
• The Phantom Submarine, by Richard Brightfield (Choose Your Own Adventure series)
• Pinocchio's Adventures, by Jim Razzi (Choose Your Own Adventure - Walt Disney series)
• Robert Louis Stephenson's Treasure Island, by Blake Hoena (Can You Survive? series)
• Sail with Pirates, by Jim Gasperini (Time Machine series)
• Sea of Mystery, by G. Arthur Rahman (Tunnels & Trolls Solo series)
• The Secret of Oki Island, by Daniel Howard (Obvious Mimic series) (to be released)
• Shipwrecked on Mystery Island, by Roy Wandelmaier (Fantastic Adventures series)
• Steam Highwayman 4, by Martin Noutch (Steam Highwayman series) (to be released)
• Sundered Isles, by Shawn Tomkin (Ironsworn: Starforged) (to be released)
• Survival at Sea, by Edward Packard (Choose Your Own Adventure series)
• Trapped in the Sea Kingdom, by Richard Brightfield (Escape from Tenopia series)
• Treasure Diver, by Julius Goodman (Choose Your Own Adventure series)
• Treasure Island, by Matt London (You Are the Classics series)
• The Treasure of Dead Man's Cove, by George Ivanoff (You Choose series)
• Treasure of Shark Island, by John Allen and Kenneth James (Tracker Books series)
• Tu Nombre Es Robinson and Los Piratas de Milasia, by Miguel González Casquell (Multiaventura series)
• Vanished!, by Deborah Lerme Goodman (Choose Your Own Adventure series)
• Voyage with Columbus, by Seymour V. Reit (Time Traveler series)

Also certain sections from Joe Dever's Fire on the Water (Lone Wolf series), John Butterfield et al.'s Cretan Chronicles series, Keith Martin's Master of Chaos, by Keith Martin (Fighting Fantasy series), Robin Waterfield and Wilfred Davies' The Water Spider (Webs of Intrigue series), Douglas Niles' Lords of Doom (AD&D Adventure Gamebooks series), Edward Packard's Cave of Time and Return to the Cave of Time (Choose Your Own Adventure series), Pompeyo Reina's El Retorno del Imperio Cobra (Imperio Cobra series), Paul Mason's and Steve Williams' The Riddling Reaver (Fighting Fantasy: The Introductory Role-playing Game series), and Pat Mills' You Are Torquemada: Trapped in the Garden of Alien Delights (Diceman series)

Dany's Dragon Bonds IV Part I, The Bard's Truth Episode 8.13 Covers the Bond of Dany and her Dragons in her first 2 chapters of A Dance with Dragons. This episode contrasts the savage nature of her dragons and her conquest against her wishes to be a peaceful ruler.
YouTube Vid
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If A Storm or Swords was a transition period for Dany's dragons (call it their teen years), I would say that A Dance with Dragons is their final transition to adulthood. No longer are they lovable beasts; they are now dangerous creatures, with fully developed personalities - and wills - of their own. This applies to all 3, but especially to Drogon. As Dany's bonds to them evolve, our Dragon themes, a list with similarities to and differences from our direwolf Bond themes, diverge, becoming 2 lists our dragon / rider themes and our Mother of Dragons Themes.
First, consider the direwolf bond themes:
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• Mirroring of mood, personality, and intelligence
• Obedience vs. Independence
• Shadowing / Protection / Savagery
  • healthy fear of the wolves
  • Related: the wolves’ innate ability to sense threats
• Belonging to the pack / the instinct to hunt
• Being affectionate when together
  • Physical contact enhancing the bond
• Bad things happening when separated

Our dragon bond themes last volume were:
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• Mirroring personality, moods and intelligence
• Independence vs. Obedience
  • Deferential only when it suits them
  • Growing out of any prior obedience
• Savagery / Protection
  • Fear of the dragons
  • Related: the dragons' ability to sense threats
• Power / Value / Mother
  • Strength / Superiority / Domination over prey
  • COMPLETE lack of fear of humans (also prey)
  • Insatiable appetite
• Touch / Affection
  • Physical contact enhancing the bond
• Separation
  • Bad things happening when they’re separated

Now we have 2 separate lists.

1. Mother of Dragons Themes:

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• Mirroring although the dragons mirror each other still
• Independence vs. Obedience
  • Deferential only when it suits them
  • Growing out of any prior obedience
• Savagery / Protection
  • Fear of the dragons
  • Related: the dragons' ability to assess threats
• Power
  • Strength / Superiority / Domination over prey
  • COMPLETE lack of fear of humans (also prey)
  • Insatiable appetite
• Touch / Affection
  • Physical contact enhancing the bond
• Separation
  • weakening of bonds while separated

1. Dragon / Rider Bond Themes:

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• Mirroring personality, moods and intelligence
• Independence vs. Obedience
  • Deferential only when it suits them
  • Growing out of any prior obedience
• Savagery / Protection
  • Fear of the dragons
  • Related: the dragons' ability to sense threats
• Power
  • Strength / Superiority / Domination over prey
  • COMPLETE lack of fear of humans (also prey)
  • Insatiable appetite
• Touch / Affection
  • Physical contact enhancing the bond
• Separation
  • Danger when they’re separated

The key takeaway here is that Dany and Drogon have the telepathic bond, while her bond to the the other 2 dragons is purely an emotional one. That emotional bond weakens with separation, while Dany's telepathic bond to Drogon remains intact during their separation. Mirroring only happens between Dany and Drogon, including sharing of senses and the enhancement of those traits while the pair are in physical contact.
That said, with the Direwolf themes, obedience was a key trait to the bond, with both Dragon bond lists, independence dominates that paired theme. Through my study I see evidence that Drogon is influencing or domination Dany more so than vice versa.

A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

This Chapter is rich in dragon symbolism and rhetoric, as well as some worrying indications about her dragons' behavior. The interactions and reports of their behavior indicate chiefly our theme of savagery, but also protection / their sense of danger, and an emerging dichotomy between motherhood and their independence.
As to the symbolism, there are 4 mentions of her moniker as "Mother of Dragons," one describing her as "blood of the dragon", and another as the Dragon queen. At the beginning of this volume these mentions serve to project Dany's power.

Missandei announced her. The little scribe had a sweet, strong voice. "All kneel for Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons."
Lord Ghael had a mouth of brown and rotten teeth and the pointed yellow face of a weasel. He also had a gift. "Cleon the Great sends these slippers as a token of his love for Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons."
"Great Cleon will be pleased to know they pleased you," said Lord Ghael. "His Magnificence bids me say that he stands ready to defend the Mother of Dragons from all her foes."
"All kneel for Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons," cried Missandei in her high, sweet voice.
The blood of the dragon does not weep. "Stalwart Shield," she said, dry-eyed. "That was his name?"
[...] the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves, and whores. [...]

With that power should also come a modicum of fear. That is more directly elicited in a mention of "to wake the dragon" when they discuss the emergence of the Sons of the Harpy, hinting at savagery in her own demeanor.

[...] "Find these cowards for me. Find them, so that I might teach the Harpy's Sons what it means to wake the dragon."

Finally, there is a mention of her crown with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, which we will cover in some depth, given the dragon lore that accompanies it. Her three-headed dragon crown symbolizes power, but also the weight of responsibility she places upon herself to be a good ruler.

[...] Irri fetched her crown, wrought in the shape of the three-headed dragon of her House. Its coils were gold, its wings silver, its three heads ivory, onyx, and jade. Dany's neck and shoulders would be stiff and sore from the weight of it before the day was done. A crown should not sit easy on the head. One of her royal forebears had said that, once. Some Aegon, but which one? [...]

Continuing that paragraph, we get a discussion of her Targaryen forebears and a litany of all the Targaryens and others who have been recently assassinated, denoting her own fear of being killed by the Sons of the Harpy, but also possibly foreshadowing strikes against her own person and her taking a path of vengeance, a dragon-ish ambition, a savage path.

Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper's dogs had murdered her brother's son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Aegon would have been closer to my age than Viserys. Dany had only been conceived when Aegon and his sister were murdered. Their father, her brother Rhaegar, perished even earlier, slain by the Usurper on the Trident. Her brother Viserys had died screaming in Vaes Dothrak with a crown of molten gold upon his head. They will kill me too if I allow it. The knives that slew my Stalwart Shield were meant for me.

Moving on, the first dragon interaction is with Viserion, but we get mentions of both Rhaegal and Drogon, as well. Viserion's theme as her child shows through, but also savagery in the idea that he had been fighting with Drogon. Independence and savagery come to mind in the mention of their wildness, especially in the mention of Rhaegal.

Viserion sensed her disquiet. The white dragon lay coiled around a pear tree, his head resting on his tail. When Dany passed his eyes came open, two pools of molten gold. His horns were gold as well, and the scales that ran down his back from head to tail. "You're lazy," she told him, scratching under his jaw. His scales were hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun. Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. "You should be hunting with your brothers. Have you and Drogon been fighting again?" Her dragons were growing wild of late. Rhaegal had snapped at Irri, and Viserion had set Reznak's tokar ablaze the last time the seneschal had called. I have left them too much to themselves, but where am I to find the time for them?

The savagery of the scene continues with Viserion taking off in flight, violently.

Viserion's tail lashed sideways, thumping the trunk of the tree so hard that a pear came tumbling down to land at Dany's feet. His wings unfolded, and he half flew, half hopped onto the parapet. He grows, she thought as he launched himself into the sky. They are all three growing. Soon they will be large enough to bear my weight. Then she would fly as Aegon the Conqueror had flown, up and up, until Meereen was so small that she could blot it out with her thumb.She watched Viserion climb in widening circles until he was lost to sight beyond the muddy waters of the Skahazadhan. Only then did Dany go back inside the pyramid, [...].

Dany's mention of their size is a good segue. The tail end of the chapter shifts to the dangers and costs of feeding dragons this size.

"Three-and-twenty." Dany sighed. "My dragons have developed a prodigious taste for mutton since we began to pay the shepherds for their kills. Have these claims been proven?"

With the compounding daily costs of livestock born by the treasury, especially Drogon, her advisors worry about false claims. The theme of savagery definitely comes out in the description of how Drogon hunts.

Daenerys shifted on the bench. "No man should ever fear to come to me." Some claims were false, she did not doubt, but more were genuine. Her dragons had grown too large to be content with rats and cats and dogs. The more they eat, the larger they will grow, Ser Barristan had warned her, and the larger they grow, the more they'll eat. Drogon especially ranged far afield and could easily devour a sheep a day. "Pay them for the value of their animals," she told Reznak, [...].

It's notable that she's projecting power, but she does not want to be feared.
With the mention of Drogon and his independence, the story takes a horrific turn. The last claimant that day brought not sheep bones, but ....

One man lingered behind as the rest were filing out—a squat man with a windburnt face, shabbily dressed. His hair was a cap of coarse red-black wire cropped about his ears, and in one hand he held a sad cloth sack. He stood with his head down, gazing at the marble floor as if he had quite forgotten where he was. And what does this one want? Dany wondered.[...]"What is it?" Dany asked. "Do you have some grievance to lay before us, some petition? What would you have of us?"His tongue flicked nervously over chapped, cracked lips. "I … I brought …""Bones?" she said, impatiently. "Burnt bones?"He lifted the sack, and spilled its contents on the marble.Bones they were, broken bones and blackened. The longer ones had been cracked open for their marrow."It were the black one," the man said, in a Ghiscari growl, "the winged shadow. He come down from the sky and … and …"No. Dany shivered. No, no, oh no."Are you deaf, fool?" Reznak mo Reznak demanded of the man. "Did you not hear my pronouncement? See my factors on the morrow, and you shall be paid for your sheep.""Reznak," Ser Barristan said quietly, "hold your tongue and open your eyes. Those are no sheep bones."No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child.

While the chapter ends with those words, that revelation clearly rocks the foundations of Dany's world. The winged shadow that killed and ate the little girl, Hazzea, was, of course, Drogon.
It marks a period of Drogon being estranged from Dany. Drogon disappears, not to be seen at court for many chapters, while Dany chains up the other 2 dragons in the next chapter. Her bond to Drogon seems to weaken with the distance, and with her revulsion at his deed.
Can Drogon sense that through the bond to know to make himself scarce, or even to shield himself from her feelings? One must note that we never to this point have Dany directly acknowledging the bond, so it is still subconscious for her, like Jon Snow and Ghost before their estrangement.
With Jon and Ghost in ASoS, their bond was blocked by the wall. Dany and Drogon's bond is now dampened by her disgust and shame at killing an innocent. To continue the parallel to Jon and Ghost, we should expect that their bond will gain in strength tremendously after their reunification.

A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

While chiefly covering the fate of the dragons after the revelation closing the prior chapter, this chapter also has a supernatural encounter with Quaithe and a few passages with dragon symbolism, still being used in her projection of power.
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"Mother to dragons." Dany shivered."No. Mother to us all." Missandei hugged her tighter. "Your Grace should sleep. Dawn will be here soon, and court."
"I train since three," said Goghor the Giant. "I kill since six. Mother of Dragons says I am free. Why not free to fight?"
"All kneel for Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons," Missandei called.

After the passages mentioning her as Mother of Dragons, two passages mention the dragon's mercy and her dragon blood. Given that this mercy is targeted at the Son's of the Harpy, it is no mercy at all, it brings to mind instead "waking the dragon." It is savage

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

But savage is not what she wants to become, so the second passage is wistful in contemplating where the path of violence might lead her.

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

The encounter with Quaithe via glass candle, as before in ASoS when she was on the ship, revisits the visions from the House of the Undying but then beseeches Dany to look inward.

"Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.""The blood of the dragon." But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. "I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …"

"One for love," it is supposed to be, but at this point she is very uncomfortable with what it may mean to be a dragon. "Who would ever dare to love a dragon," as she thought in the prior passage. Compounding this, she then contemplates if she might be going mad.

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? [...]

It's no wonder she's uneasy about being a dragon, with Drogon's murder of the young girl Hazzea. With Drogon fled, she has locked up her two other dragons to try to protect the public, but also due to her own shame, unfortunately in hiding that shame she is simultaneously removing what little comfort her children still provided her.

At her command, one produced an iron key. The door opened, hinges shrieking. Daenerys Targaryen stepped into the hot heart of darkness and stopped at the lip of a deep pit. Forty feet below, her dragons raised their heads. Four eyes burned through the shadows—two of molten gold and two of bronze.

To understate it, the dragons are not pleased at being caged.

When Rhaegal roared, a gout of yellow flame turned darkness into day for half a heartbeat. The fire licked along the walls, and Dany felt the heat upon her face, like the blast from an oven. Across the pit, Viserion's wings unfolded, stirring the stale air. He tried to fly to her, but the chains snapped taut as he rose and slammed him down onto his belly. Links as big as a man's fist bound his feet to the floor. The iron collar about his neck was fastened to the wall behind him. Rhaegal wore matching chains. In the light of Selmy's lantern, his scales gleamed like jade. Smoke rose from between his teeth. Bones were scattered on the floor at his feet, cracked and scorched and splintered. The air was uncomfortably hot and smelled of sulfur and charred meat."They are larger." Dany's voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. A drop of sweat trickled down her brow and fell onto her breast. "Is it true that dragons never stop growing?""If they have food enough, and space to grow. Chained up in here, though …"The Great Masters had used the pit as a prison. It was large enough to hold five hundred men … and more than ample for two dragons. For how long, though? What will happen when they grow too large for the pit? Will they turn on one another with flame and claw? Will they grow wan and weak, with withered flanks and shrunken wings? Will their fires go out before the end?What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

It seems no decision she makes in this context will not bring her shame.

Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle's dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them. At Astapor the slaver's eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him. His proof was burned bones, but burned bones proved nothing. He might have killed the little girl himself, and burned her afterward. He would not have been the first father to dispose of an unwanted girl child, the Shavepate claimed. The Sons of the Harpy might have done it, and made it look like dragon's work to make the city hate me. Dany wanted to believe that … but if that was so, why had Hazzea's father waited until the audience hall was almost empty to come forward? If his purpose had been to inflame the Meereenese against her, he would have told his tale when the hall was full of ears to hear.

In this shame she hides the truth.

"She died of a snakebite," Reznak mo Reznak insisted. "A ravening wolf carried her off. A sudden sickness took her. Tell them what you will, but never speak of dragons."

Capitulating to the Reznak's of the world may not be the right thing for Dany. It causes her to inwardly flee her identity instead of understanding it and embracing the good while trying to tame the bad. This is not something she she can hide from; rather, she must face it. Visiting her imprisoned dragons is a good step.

Viserion's claws scrabbled against the stones, and the huge chains rattled as he tried to make his way to her again. When he could not, he gave a roar, twisted his head back as far as he was able, and spat golden flame at the wall behind him. How soon till his fire burns hot enough to crack stone and melt iron?Once, not long ago, he had ridden on her shoulder, his tail coiled round her arm. Once she had fed him morsels of charred meat from her own hand. He had been the first chained up. Daenerys had led him to the pit herself and shut him up inside with several oxen. Once he had gorged himself he grew drowsy. They had chained him whilst he slept.Rhaegal had been harder. Perhaps he could hear his brother raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. In the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants' steps, twisting and snapping. Six men had been burned in the struggle.

Rheagal almost surely telepathically sensed Viserion's pain telepathically, mirroring his aggression at the imprisonment.
Worse yet, Drogon is her pair-bonded spirit, feeling her rejection of his act. Perhaps he feels some shame, but more he must be reeling from the rejection.

And Drogon …The winged shadow, the grieving father called him. He was the largest of her three, the fiercest, the wildest, with scales as black as night and eyes like pits of fire.Drogon hunted far afield, but when he was sated he liked to bask in the sun at the apex of the Great Pyramid, where once the harpy of Meereen had stood. Thrice they had tried to take him there, and thrice they had failed. Two score of her bravest had risked themselves trying to capture him. Almost all had suffered burns, and four of them had died. The last she had seen of Drogon had been at sunset on the night of the third attempt. The black dragon had been flying north across the Skahazadhan toward the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. He had not returned.Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

Drogon's shame and Dany's may be mirroring back to eachother! The bond to Drogon and her children is strained to say the least. It is certainly weighing on her. She wants to be a good queen, but also a good mother. but her children are growing up, and the are not actually children, but dangerous creatures, fire made flesh, ticking bombs. Still she's trying to juggle it all and be a peaceful rule. It will only get more difficult.

The small reptilian woman backs away from me slightly and looks around again, then down at her hands with a startled expression as she realizes she doesn't have her spear anymore,
“W-Where... Where am I? Who are you? A-And how did we get here?” she stammers out, her voice is soft and admittedly fragile sounding, a far cry from the somewhat bone chilling way her species spoke before I could understand them. I think about the question for a bit, not entirely sure how to start answering her questions, or whether I should start off with the bombshell of ‘Oh hey I'm the local dungeon’ type thing. Apparently, my inward musings were taking longer than she had liked and she took another tentative step backwards while pulling her hands to her chest.
“Can you understand me?” she says, once more breaking the deafening silence.
“Yes, sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment.” I say, keeping my voice as soothing as I'm able on account of how frightened she seems to be. To hopefully help settle her fears a little I sit down on the floor, crossing my legs and resting my elbows on my thighs.
“As for your other questions, you're more or less in my mind, or something equivalent I'd have to guess. I don't have a name as far as I know, but I call myself Lance and so do my friends, I'm.. uh.” I stop for a moment and consider how to put my thoughts into something that would make sense but not seem outlandish.
“Do you know what a dungeon is by chance?” I say, still keeping my tone soft and friendly.
“No, not really. The word sounds familiar from stories I was told as a youngling but…” her words trail off and she looks around. “How did we get here?” she asks again, the smallest hint of fear still present in her voice.
“Don't worry, I'll get to that, but for it to make sense I need to explain a couple things first.” She looks around once again and nods before also sitting down, although she makes sure to stay out of arm's reach and wraps her tail into her lap, gently rubbing at the scales near the tip.
“As I said, my name is Lance, and I am a dungeon, more specifically this body.” I say as I gesture to myself. “Is my avatar, it's who I was before I became what I am now. Do you remember that glowing orange crystal you touched that allowed you to see me?” She nods again but stays silent.
“That crystal is my heart, you could say that it's the concentrated essence of my being, and you touching it allowed me to let your consciousness into my mind, that is where we are now.” She looks at me with an intense stare but it seems more like she is looking through me than at me as she processes the information. And to be fair I was also still processing it. I still haven't found that hidden library of knowledge that I intrinsically ‘know’ but don't really know until I need it, and it's starting to become annoying that I'm learning as much about myself as any new person is when we discuss topics that specifically pertain to me. She refocuses on me and opens her mouth to say something but decides to rethink her words for a moment before trying again.
“Why did you bring me here?” The trepidation in her voice is there but I think she is starting to catch on.
“I wanted to offer a contract to you and your… friends? Siblings maybe? The other three Kobolds in your group. But before that I wanted to get to know you, don't worry, no time is passing outside of here.” I say but don't really believe what’s coming out of my mouth, and before she can ask any questions I wave my hand over the ground between us, which feels unnatural as if I'm being puppeteered by something with strings reaching far above out of sight above. To both of our surprise, a window opens up showing the inside of the core room. Inside are two Kobolds standing still as statues and a foggy, ghostly form resembling what I'm assuming is what she saw me as kneeling in front of the one touching the core. The view expands outward, showing a cutaway of the dungeon from a bird's eye view all the ants now looking the size of actual mundane ants from this distance before zooming back in on the other two kobolds, still by the flooded room. One stoking the fire with a new log and the other waiting by the door, bow in hand. The embers floating suspended above the still flames. I'm still inspecting the scene in front of me with awe when the kobold looks back up at me.
“Sisters, they’re my sisters.” she says, inspecting me as if expecting some form of reaction, and the fidgeting with her tail quickens a bit. “What would you like to know about us?”
“Well… what would you be comfortable with telling me?”
“Umm, We’re outcasts, other larger tribes consumed our tribes, and we found each other after avoiding capture. We aren't siblings by blood or brood, but there is no place for us in other tribes so we hide by the large pool and just try to survive off of what we can catch or steal without being spotted by other tribe's hunting parties. I'm the only mature one out of the four of us so I have taken the role of caretaker for them but without a large enough group their maturing has slowed almost to a halt. And they are stuck as younglings just before maturity. Until we can find more outcasts for our tribe I mean. There isn't really anything else to say about us.” I mull over the information as it rolls in, they are orphans after losing their tribes, and nothing in the species description mentioned slowed growth in small numbers. Maybe the extra mana I produce will help restart the process for them without needing more orphaned kobolds, unless the group I unintentionally exiled from the main cavern counts towards their group.
“Do you all have names?” I ask and she nods slowly.
“I am Vesh, the short one that followed me into the tunnel is Keva, that one.” she says, pointing to the kobold adding the log to their small fire. “ Is Hekal, and the last one with the bow is Lithal.” I nod along as I commit the names to memory.
“Like I said earlier, I wanted to offer you four contracts. You would get to live in the dungeon, and your needs for food and a safe place to stay would be met, and in return I want your help in raising all of the young that you helped escape the open water into the dungeon, you would be free to come and go at any time, and the rest of my friends would also, hopefully, become your friends in return.”
“Why were all of those hatchlings seeking sanctuary with you in the first place?” she asks, while looking into the large pool of water housing the tadpoles through the window on the floor. I get a slight feeling that I shouldn't tell her outright that I bound the hatchlings to the dungeon, but I'd rather not get caught in a lie later if I can help it, especially with them being contracts, I don't think I can keep them from harming me if I get onto their bad side given their proximity, there isn't really any way to ease into the topic either that I can think of so after a deep breath and a sigh
I get on with telling her.
“I can bind creatures to the dungeon, I have before, and I bound a number of the young and some of the unborn kobolds to me, however before I could intervene the tribes dumped them into the lake which was not within my intentions to have happen.”
“So they are slaves to you now?” She says with no small amount of fear and a small amount of anger in her voice.
“No, no, they still have their own free will and I don't plan to force them to do anything,”
“But, what if they end up not wanting to be bound to you once they are aware?”
“They can leave then.” I say, “However I don't know if I can undo the bond, and the way it works is that any partner they make will become bound to me along with their offspring. And there are benefits to being bound to me, like heightened intelligence.” I decide to leave out the effectual immortality bit that comes along with names and the small kobold seems to carefully think over what I had told her so far. After a moment of silence that was beginning to turn awkward, I decided to speak up again.
“I must say you seem to be taking all of this rather well.”
“Oh does it look that way? That's a relief, I'm actually trying very hard not to freeze up whenever you talk, or break down into a crying mess right now”
“I might not be the most up to par with your specific way of sharing emotions, but nonetheless I honestly couldn't tell you were under much stress at all.” Although that might have not been completely true I still wanted to try and boost her confidence a little bit to help her through for a moment, especially with the questions and topic we’d be talking about next. A small smile creeps onto the edges of her features and she is even able to make eye contact with me for a moment, before turning back to looking at her tail.
“Now I'd like to get back to the main reason we’re here if you're alright with that.”
“You mean the contract thing you were talking about right?”
“Yes, it's completely up to you, since you're the guardian of the three others I'm assuming it's your call when it comes to them too.”
“You said you would feed and shelter us in return for taking care of the hatchlings right?”
“Yes, and you would be granted access to the rest of the dungeon instead of just the room you are camped out in currently.”
“I don't want to speak for the other three, but I think I would like to accept and once they are matured I'm sure they would too. We’ve been struggling to find enough food and I think we could use the help. Once the others have matured you can ask them for a contract individually, it's not my place to make that decision for them.” I nod as she finishes speaking, there's a good chance the others will still help her with the daycare duties regardless so this outcome isn't really a bad one.
“I can work with that I suppose, but I don't think I can let the others wander the dungeon until they have accepted contracts, it might not be safe for them, but regardless I accept those terms for your contract.”
We both just sit there for a moment looking at each other and the silence is once again turning awkward.
“Umm, how do we do a contract? Or was that just it?” she says as she looks at her hands, arms and tail. “I don't feel or look any different.”
“That's a good question…” I mumble under my breath and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. Then the small flashing light in my head turns on and I get up from my seated position onto my knees and form a medallion in my hands, still an odd lack of mana draw to make it.
“Would you mind giving me one of your hands?” I say after the medallion is fully formed.
“Umm, sure I guess.” she says as she lets go of her tail and reaches out towards me. I have to shuffle closer to be able to reach but I stay a respectful distance away since I can see her hand is visibly shaking.
“Everything is going to be alright.” I assure her as I reach out with the medallion cupped in my palm as I gently grip her hand and clench lightly, there is a flow of orange mana that exudes from my skin like mist and it wraps its way up my arm, and between our clasped hands, the medallion seems to begin warm up slightly and ring before it shrinks down to about half its original size and vanishes completely. I let go of her hand and pull back but she stays as she is, still as a statue seemingly in a daze or maybe shock. That's when I notice the imprint of the medallion on her palm. She just sits there in a bit of a daze and doesn't react to me letting go.
“Hello, umm, Vesh, are you still with me here?” I say and she snaps out of her frozen state.
“I'm um yes, I'm here, wherever here is…” her words trail off as she looks at her hand, gently rubbing the glowing orange markings on her palm with her other hand. "I saw something, like dreams or memories playing out in my head." I consider that for a moment but don't say anything about it. Instead, I decide to direct the conversation back to the matter at hand.
“Now close your hand and think about those markings on your palm.” I say, still not really sure where I'm getting the information for this from. She does so, and also closes her eyes to focus. Soon she opens her eyes with a start and uncurls her fingers, a half-sized medallion is sitting there, as if it's been there the whole time, tilting her head she closes her hand again and focuses, opening her hand the medallion is gone once more.
“Would you like to go back now?” I say, shaking her out of her focused daze once more.
“Umm, sure, yes, that's fine with me.” her words were barely above a whisper and I had almost missed it, but she was visibly more excited along with a slight but unmistakable vibration going through her tail. We both stand up and I gently place a hand on her shoulder.
“Be seeing you around Vesh,” I say and almost instantly, before she can say anything we’re back in my sanctum, and indeed it seems no time has passed. We both take our hands off of my core and she steps back however she still seems to be able to see me or, at least my general position, as her eyes seem to slightly struggle with tracking me. I form a link and she jumps slightly at my words.
”It’s safe for you to wander around, but until your siblings have their own medallions I need you to try and keep them in the flooded room until I can form contracts with them too. If you need me for anything just think about talking to me and we should be able to converse like this.” Not saying anything she nods slightly and quietly moves around the pillar to Keva where they whisper quietly for a moment before she convinces the younger kobold to head back down the tunnel. She takes one last look over her shoulder at my form, still hovering over by the exit to the rest of the dungeon before she too hurries off after her sister back to their small camp.
I open a connection with Cardinal and Onyx, and after we share some greetings I retell the experience I just had with the young kobold and the information I had learned about myself.
“As much as I know you don't like new people all that much, would the two of you be willing to meet Vesh, our newest contracted member?”
“It's not that we don't like meeting new people, my liege.” says Onyx, breathing somewhat heavily, maybe he's dragging a large kill back to the dungeon. “We have an instinctual aversion to having other beings in the presence of the queen, like how you've described the panic you felt when Cardinal found your core before you two had met properly. That's how we feel when she’s around other people who aren't of the colony, but it's not just her or the children nearby, an uneasiness rushes over the entire colony similar to how you shiver and get your goosed bumps when you're uncomfortable only a fair bit worse.”
“That's fair I Suppose, it's instincts or a survival mechanism. And it's ‘goosebumps’. ” I say, considering their side of the point, and trying to find a way around the colony having an instant anxiety attack every time Vesh or her sisters come around.
“Do you think it would be easier on your collective psyche since she is bound to me in a similar way that you are?” I propose, and this time Cardinal answers.
“Perhaps, however, we’ll just have to try and see, preferably sometime when Onyx is back, I don't think she’ll be outright hostile towards me with how you described her, and I'm willing to go as far as assuming she will be more afraid of me than I will be of her. But for the sake of my own instincts, as you put it, I'd like Onyx to be there too.”
“That can be arranged.” I say “How far are you from-.” I begin to ask before I'm hit with three pins at the base of my neck all in rapid succession.
“I think that was the group we sent with the adventurer's party.” Onyx says, I can't hear it per se but I can feel him crack his mandibles together over the connection, and it's like the reverberation of a gunshot going off in my head, he is very unhappy about losing some of his brood it seems. “I am relatively nearby, I can go check on them with my hunting party. If all is well we can go back to hunting, but if they need help we can assist.” I can tell by the tone of his voice that even if I tell him he shouldn't, which realistically I should, he probably would be adamant about checking anyway and just saying his hunt took a while.
“You are more or less autonomous so I won't stop you, as long as Cardinal is okay with it.” I say.
There is a short feeling of apprehension from her over our link but another sharp pin hits me and that apprehension from her is gone almost instantly.
“Go check dearest. We’ll be fine here in the meantime.” Onyx nods through the connection and his end closes, which allows Cardinal to turn her full attention to me.
"Now, about our earlier conversation about better communication.” she says with a small smirk in her voice and I can tell I'm really not going to enjoy this as much as she will. Almost like a kid who knows they were wrong about to have a stern talk with a parent.
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I've been with chainlink for a long time, and nearly everything I learn to this day is encouraging. SWIFT partnership, DTCC, All the Citi all testing chainlink is incredible.
But JP Morgan not only doesn't appear to be using LINK, they seem like they are trying to replace chainlink. JP Morgan is not just any bank. They are THE bank.
JP Morgan is typically the lead innovator in American banking, and one of the largest banks. They tend to set the trends and when JP Morgan released Onyx, and it was powered by Liink (not a typo) I felt a bit of fear that the market could end up getting behind a well established financial institution over chainlink.
Am I a crazy person? Seems odd that JP Morgan would set out to build this infrastructure themselves, but if they succeed it could put a wedge in the way of Chainlink's market capture.

If you have not read all of Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, go finish them before you read any further!
A few days ago I heard the song Demons by Imagine Dragons and I swear I heard it like never before. This song actually perfectly captures the vibes of what I am expecting from Onyx Storm. So for a minute, let me be like your bestie who sends you a curated playlist for any mood you are ever feeling, and come dissect these lyrics with me!!
>! With Xaden turning venin as our cliffhanger ending, I think Onyx Storm will heavily revolve around a tortured Xaden trying to navigate his new “demons” and struggling to keep his veninhood from destroying his relationship with Violet, as well as potentially losing the war. Many believe that the title Onyx Storm is a reference to Xaden’s onyx eyes. Looking at the lyric “When you feel my heat look into my eyes - it’s where my demons hide” - Xaden’s eyes are the portal to his “demons” of being venin as they literally reveal when he has channeled from the source. It seems fitting to me that Xaden himself may even be the “Onyx Storm” with such an internal battle/storm ahead. !<
>! Lyrics like “I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you” feel so Xaden-coded in the many secrets he has kept when trying to protect Violet. Later in the song we see this flipped to “though this is all for you, don’t wanna hide the truth.” We saw Xaden begin opening up to Violet late in Iron Flame after revealing his second signet, seeming like he no longer has reasons to keep secrets… but after becoming venin in order to save her (“though this is all for you”!!!) I think his desire to be honest but inability to do so - for some reason yet to be revealed - will flip the script on IF and will make Xaden the one who longs for truth in their relationship, whereas in IF it was Violet. Perhaps Violet’s second signet will play a role in this dynamic?? Perhaps we will get a lot more Xaden POV??! I think this book will be absolutely treacherous as we watch Xaden’s veninhood play out. Sadly I think we might see him pulling away from Violet to try and protect her from his own darkness (“don’t get too close, it’s dark inside”) as well as a struggle with “greed” for more power aka drawing from the source in contrast with his craving for more Violet. What will all of this mean for his relationship with Sgaeyl? So many questions! !<
>! Ultimately though, it’s the bridge that keeps me up at night. “I can’t escape this now unless you show me how.” I truly believe Violet will be the one to save Xaden from being venin in some way (call me a hopeless romantic, I can take it!!!) and I love the idea that she will have to show him how to escape this after all that he has taught her to do. !<
So what do you think??? What other parallels do you see between these lyrics and your speculations for Onyx Storm? What other songs are you listening to with Onyx Storm on the brain??