The tree creaked, solid bits of plant-flesh - each large enough to crush me with their overwhelming mass - falling down with every tug and pull. The giant bad-thing swayed as if caught in an invisible wind, nearly upturning the world below the many-nest in its powerful struggles. I hissed alongside it, my noises of excitement mixing with its sounds of terror.

The Lesser Core’s Guardian tried to fight. Oh, it tried so hard to fight; powerful roots thrashed and jerked even harder than before, almost tearing themselves free in the massive bad-thing’s frenzied efforts. A few even managed it; plant-flesh snapped with a sound akin to a rockfall, one great enough to force the ground to tremble in its wake.

And yet, try as it might, the bad-thing moved too slowly. It was too slow, too stupid. A Lesser Core’s creation through-and-through.

Against the Great Core’s blessings, there was only one way things could have ended.

The first of my spore-roots took control. Another followed, and then another. Root by root, the mighty being of plant-flesh found itself falling under the Great Core’s light. I could sense them clearly, the sheer size of the accumulated spore-roots forming a disorienting thought-hiss in my mind.

They were eager for victory, just as I was.

If the creation of my gold and blue protector had led to an overwhelming tumult of chaotic thought-hisses, the spore-roots that infested the Lesser Core’s former Guardian were something far more; they couldn’t have been anything else, given the sheer number that began to infest its plant-flesh. They all but screamed within my mind, a beautiful chorus of victorious thought-hisses, each ebbing and flowing around the others.

Brief spurts of [FEAR] still struck me, but they were distant; drowned out by the sounds that surrounded me. I was distant, lost within the excitement that [Verdure Parasite] brought me. They slipped by with hardly any notice, a few of them winking out every so often.

My mind continued to reach across the ruined many-nest, stretching itself outwards. With mental fangs and a merciless touch, I ripped streams of time itself away from the plant-flesh around me. Each stolen stream, each bit of potential growth, went towards my ever-growing spore-roots.

And grow they did.

I watched as lines of blue and gold stretched out ever-further, flowing from infected roots like a river through its channels. They twisted about, stabbing through plant-flesh again and again, working their way up the great bad-thing’s trunk.

Its struggles began to still, control of its lower body lost entirely. Above, I could just barely make out the sound of its leaves rustling in anger, or terror, or something else.

Whatever it was, it soon ended.

I took those, too.

The leaves stilled at last, and the tumultuous assortment of spore-roots finally melded together. The chaos of their many thought-hisses began to order themselves, becoming one. Asking for guidance.

Before I could answer, another wave of emotion spilled through the assorted [Little Guardian’s Totem]s; [PAIN] and [FRIGHT] and [HATRED] intertwined until they became near-unrecognizable. A few more connections winked out.

I shook myself free of my fascination, reminded of their need and of Tiamat’s retribution. Lost in the wonder - the sheer power - of [Verdure Parasite], I had forgotten. There were things that needed to be done.

Things that needed to be killed.

I blindly threw myself into one of the [Little Guardian’s Totem]s that radiated [FRIGHT], searching for a better view. A new perspective. The world shifted as I abandoned my scale-flesh, a blurry red taking its place.

The Coreless’ hand came up, wiping at their eyes; crimson fell away in splashes and splotches, blood dripping on by; the world sharpened in its wake.

Before I could focus, a bone-tipped limb wiped the world away again, throwing me back into my own body. The Coreless’ final scream echoed in my mind, phantom bits of [FRIGHT] brushing against its edges like a ghostly remnant. - soft and ephemeral, but unquestionably real.

Dead.

Hissing furiously, I tried again, ignoring the mental toll of my recent jumps.

“Why?” my new Coreless shouted, his own voice echoing madly in our shared set of ears. “Why, why, why, why, why, why?”

His hands came down, stabbing at a broken bad-thing again and again. My eyes - the Coreless’ eyes - kept blurring, almost-clear liquid running from their corners in an uninterrupted flow. I could taste his [GRIEF], feel his [DESPAIR], bask in his [HATRED].

It had been what drew me to his [Little Guardian’s Totem], just as I had been drawn to the other’s - and yet, just as with the other, there was nothing for me there; he ignored the battle that raged around us, gaze never wavering from its course. His fang dropped, ore-flesh clattering and chiming against the floor.

His hands found another broken form; a different one. Small. Shattered. Bloody. Silent. His wails were loud enough for the both of them.

“...Why?” he asked, making the same noises as before.

He fell silent and, with a flicker of motion, our connection snapped.

Again and again, I threw myself into the Coreless’ perspectives. Again and again, I watched as they fell - until, finally, I recognized one [Little Guardian’s Totem] in particular. One filled with sheer [RAGE] and [DETERMINATION].

I threw myself through Needle’s connection, a voice ringing in her - our - ears.

“Fuck you!” she shouted, the sound broken and ragged. “Come on, you stupid thing. Hit me, then!”

A wave of broken shards, each dyed with bits of blood, flew towards something in the distance. They fell short of their target, but there was no doubting what she had been aiming for. A bad-thing that stood far behind an overwhelming mass of Tiamat’s creations, its stone-gray form shifting and contorting upon itself.

The moment that I saw it, I knew what it was.

Tiamat’s promised retribution.

An Ascended.

My vision turned along with Needle’s own, pulling away from the powerful bad-thing in the distance. Her hands reached out for broken shards, gathering them up again. She turned, whirling back around again.

The bad-thing was faster, and she-who-first-earned-a-name flew backwards with a scream of [AGONY] and a crunch of bone, slamming into the ground.

For a moment, I almost lost her. Her vision nearly went black, wet coughs and sputters echoing in our shared ears. I could hear the wheeze of her breath, taste the [PAIN] of her flesh.

It was a similar sensation that I had felt in many of my Coreless over the previous few minutes.

They were outnumbered. Weak. Dying.

And I…

I was enraged.

The world began to shake, tremors and echoes spreading across the massive cavern. The Great Core’s newest follower began to act. With the senses bestowed by both [Spore Puppeteer] and [Verdure Parasite], I could feel the way that its roots began to twist and writhe, acting with a sense of purpose that they never had while under the Lesser Core’s direction.

Needle stood, hardly even seeming to notice; as damaged as she was, she probably thought it was just her that was swaying.

And then, once more proving her usefulness, she moved forward enough to bring Tiamat’s bad-things back into view.

That was all that I needed.

My first thought-hiss was simple. Maybe too simple. I couldn’t help it. I was just too angry. I had seen too many of the Great Core’s followers lost, stolen away by lesser beings. They had been claimed, and Tiamat and her bad-things had challenged that claim. Broken it. Taken them away.

They had no right. It was blasphemous. It was just wrong.

So, it was hardly surprising that I didn’t put much thought into it

Kill, I commanded.

The world erupted in shards of stone and broken wood. Great masses of gold and blue filled Needle’s vision, twisting and writhing in apparent fury. They slammed down again and again, heedless of the damage that they did to themselves. Splinters the size of a not-Needle broke off in fang-like fragments, flinging themselves outwards and piercing through rotting flesh. The impaled bad-things died instantly.

Some of the more agile bad-things managed to throw themselves to the side, receiving more glancing blows. That was fine, too.

With [Verdure Parasite] boosted by the innumerable amount of plant-flesh growing nearby, that was all that I needed. The spore-roots inside them all but burst outwards in a staggering display of growth, making the bad-things mine. They turned on their former brethren, following the same instructions I had already given.

Kill.

Tiamat’s bad-things continued to fall, the pressure on the Great Core’s Coreless beginning to ease. The constant waves of [FEAR] began to give way to [confusion] and a reluctant - almost disbelieving - [hope].

Soon enough, the rotting bad-things had become either mine or dead.

All but one, anyway; the stone-shifting bad-thing remained, somehow reforming itself after being shattered again and again. Still, I knew that my Coreless could feel the way that the tide of battle had shifted.

I knew that they understood who was responsible.

Another set of roots came down on the stone-shifting bad-thing, slamming it downwards. Its form erupted in shattered fragments as roots came down again and again, dust taking to the air. And again, the bad-thing reformed itself, creating a new shape. Every once in a while, I managed to spot the glow of its Core before a new form rose from the dust of the old.

It tried to fight back; spikes, fangs, and claws of stone lanced through the plant-flesh of the converted Guardian, peeling strips away bit by bit. Still, I knew that I could force the tree to grow more. The loss was manageable. Recoverable.

The bad-thing - or maybe Tiamat herself - must have realized it as well. With hardly any warning and no contact from my roots, its form fell limp and shattered, throwing up a great mass of dust.

When my roots came down again, they never found the Core itself.

It had escaped, slipping through the stone with an unsettling ease.

Suddenly, Needle coughed again. My vision wavered, falling back with a forceful thump. I lost sight of the ongoing battle. Instead, I saw the leaves of the stolen Guardian above, lines of gold and blue tracing their many surfaces.

I felt she-who-gave-the-first-offering’s [GRATITUDE], her thankfulness for the Great Core’s intervention.

And then I felt her die.