Chapter One: Quiet Storms

I leaped from the deck of a flying aircraft carrier, the wind buffeting my face as I fell towards the roar of the Cooper river below. The sound of the rushing water was nearly drowned out by the wind and the repeated barks of gunfire from above.

“Fisher,” I yelled.

In response, the abomination that had replaced my right arm began to move. Bands of black flesh burst from my shoulder and wove around my body like yarn spun by a loom. As the sinuous veins twisted and grew, I could feel them constricting around my torso and limbs. I grumbled internally and flinched in pain as the creature began to draw on my reserves of eldritch energy, but the discomfort was short lived. I had long ago grown used to the claustrophobic feel of the Fisher’s shape changing.

My velocity slowed and then I was tugged upward as large wings made of black flesh burst from between my shoulder blades with the sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh. I hadn’t figured out true flight, yet, but I could manage a controlled glide. I steered my descent into a gentle spiral as I surveyed the remnants of Charleston — at least what little of it was still recognizable.

As far as post-apocalypses go; Charleston's had been thorough, but surprisingly green.

Trees dominated the skyline, while underbrush and twisting roots covered what little masonry was still unclaimed by dirt. The events of Eldritch Night had rearranged and warped the landscape, leaving rolling hills and large, bleak cliffs to replace flat earth. The occasional church steeple, once the tallest points on the skyline, poked through earth and leaf to mark the tomb of the city buried beneath.

At least it doesn’t flood every time we get a light drizzle, I thought to myself.

I detected a stifled laugh, but I wasn’t sure if the thought had been my own. I shook my head, banishing the introspection as I reminded myself that I had a mission. In the same moment, a sense of danger filled my mind and I rolled my wings forward and tucked my arms to my side to drop into a dive.

A large bat-like creature fell through the space I had just occupied. A short, fletched spear had been lodged in its chest and the beast was spinning uncontrollably. Its limbs and leathery wings beat frantically but it was unable to gain control of its flight. I could still feel the chaotic energy that flowed through its veins as evidence it still clung to life, though I doubted it would survive the landing.

I could finish it, easily. With a thought, I could devour the energy that served as its life force. I could feel the eldritch energy that was bound to every cell of its being and see it leaking from the creature’s wound like a black mist lit with hot red embers. For a moment, I began to chase after it like a greyhound after a mechanical rabbit.

No.

It was too small, inconsequential. I had better things to occupy my time, but I knew I would have to do something soon, or the urges would only grow stronger. Life was too easy among the survivors — too boring and predictable. Even the daily attacks did little to alleviate the building pressure. I felt … riled.

A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that I was meant for more. It told me I couldn’t stay idle forever. There was blood to be spilled, sweet revenge to drink up. The voice was becoming stronger, more insistent, but I would ignore it for as long as I could.

I turned my attention to the battle above me where thousands of the creatures were attacking the Yorktown. The old WWII aircraft carrier had long ago been decommissioned and turned into a floating museum, but with a combination of human ingenuity, magic, and good old-fashioned alien technology, we had managed to get her flying — or, at least motionlessly hovering a few hundred feet higher than gravity wanted her to.

The Charleston survivors fought alongside a small number of Peacekeepers, basically giant, scaly alien super soldiers, to hold back the flying creatures. For the first few weeks after we had gotten the Yorktown flying, we had thought we were safe from the worst of the dangers our new world had brought with it. We’d been wrong.

Beasts had torn down the lines we used to reach the surface, forcing us to begin retracting our netting each night — effectively stranding overnight anyone left on the surface. Other beasts were capable of bombarding the Yorktown with stones or glowing spheres of pure mana. The worst were the flyers, some were as large as tanks and others carried tiny riders that would fall onto our decks to kill and raise mayhem before they were put down. Each night seemed to bring with it new dangers.

The crew and inhabitants of the Yorktown grew strong, as I grew frustrated by how long their progress took. The best of these burgeoning warriors were sent out on raiding parties, mostly for supplies but also as a form of training and tempering. The Peacekeepers refused to participate, keeping their own counsel in the usual, infuriating way.

I could have probably ended the battle within moments. These bat-like creatures seem fragile, even if they were fast and numerous. A few well-placed spells — but no, the inhabitants of the Yorktown would have to fend for themselves this time. I wouldn’t always be there to protect them, and any kill I made was valuable XP robbed from someone that needed it more.

I’d reached level twenty-five weeks ago, and since then I’d found it impossible to gain XP or levels. I’d contented myself with increasing [Skills] and exploring the eldritch side of my powers, but the lack of growth was still something I would need to fix. And soon.

I would consider tonight to be a test. If the survivors could hold off the attack without me, and without losing anyone, then, and only then, would I consider them capable of surviving on their own.

The Peacekeepers could leave at any moment, and I … I had business elsewhere. I forced the memories of Liv out of my mind through sheer force of will. I had found it increasingly difficult to separate memory from reality, especially since my bond with the Fisher had grown more … corporeal. I could feel its tendrils working their way into my mind as our thoughts and personalities began to merge into one. Even my body was not wholly my own.

I sighed as I looked towards the north, scanning for the raiding party that had been due back hours ago. Worthy and Bridgette, two of the strongest hunters among the survivors, were with the group and they’d managed to send up a pair of signal flares a few minutes before the attack, so I didn’t worry too much about their safety. I was more concerned with something I’d requested before they’d left. Something I needed … or at least something I desired very badly.

I straightened the angle of my descent, aiming for a narrow dirt path used by the scouts and hunters. The small dirt road headed northwest over what had once been the heart of downtown and had been carved by constant use and a not small amount of terramancy from our resident archmage. It was just wide enough for a single jeep or pickup to navigate, if you were careful.

Worthy’s team of scouts had taken one of the vehicles we’d managed to get running and kept stored in a makeshift garage dug into the side of a cliff that was directly across the shore from the Yorktown. I’d seen the group off personally. My request had been something I wasn’t comfortable handling through messengers.

I was less than a hundred feet from the ground, by that point. Such elevation was risky, as it was beneath even the canopies of some of the larger trees. It was made even more difficult to navigate by the unpredictable gusts of wind coming in from the west. I’d have to touchdown soon; the trail was my target and following it was the best bet to find the scouts in a timely manner.

Rather than the graceless landings I’d made when first experimenting with my new-found shapeshifting, this time a quad of thick tentacles shot forward from my torso to brace against the earth like thick springs and wrapping around the base of tree trunks. They slowed my descent and set me down gently, before curling back up around my torso. I imagine my silhouette in the moments before I landed would have looked like that of a giant and demonic daddy long leg.

I immediately leaped forward, using my new limbs to push against the earth and pull me over fallen trees and rock. I may not have been able to outrun a jeep, but I made much better time as I never had to stop to clear the road or slow down around narrow corners.

I could feel eyes on me, watching from the forest. My forehead itched as some part of me called out to open a different kind of Eye. I could show all the watchers, all the silent observers who hid from the light, the truth of what they were. What we all were. I suppressed the urge, though grudgingly, as I continued north. I couldn’t waste time. Worthy’s group had sent up two flares, which meant immediate danger and a request for aid. Three would have meant, “don’t bother.”

I ran, or perhaps it’s better to say galloped, as quickly as I could down the narrow path. It didn’t take long before I began to hear gunshots and the sounds of yelling. Amid the human shouts and the usual drone of battle, there was something else — a sort of hum. It was like the sound a rattlesnake makes, but much louder and it sounded as if dozens, perhaps hundreds, of them were shaking in concert.

I was close enough that my other-than-natural senses could make out the vague outline of human forms highlighted in the blue glow of mana and the dark reds and black of the eldritch corruption, but they seemed to be fighting mist. The eldritch energy was like a cloud of black, shimmering satin that clung to them. It seemed to move unnaturally as if it were being controlled or attracted and repulsed by some unseen force. The scouts were shooting into the air frantically but didn’t appear to be aiming at anything in particular.

I left the path, quickly cutting through the trees and over the hill that had been between me and the battle. The powerful limbs I had conjured pulled me around and over rocks while smashing through undergrowth and any small obstacles in my path. It was not a stealthy approach, but it didn’t matter. That dark consciousness that was growing in the back of my mind scented battle, and I responded.

As I broke through the tree line into a small clearing, I saw a small jeep that had been overturned, its tires twisted with bits of shattered glass and twisted metal littering the area around it. Someone had released a smoke grenade, or perhaps used a [Skill] or magic to the same effect, but I was able to make out a group of six men and women despite the opaque wall of white smoke.

I immediately conjured a dome of black and red energy around the group as I charged forward on six legs. As I grew closer, I kicked away the jeep with a powerful, spinning kick from two of my conjured limbs. I was still unsure of what they were fighting, but I needed a better view. Whatever it was had the group of scouts panicked to the point they had yet to notice my arrival.

“Worthy!” I yelled.

I saw a mohawked head turn towards me in confusion. Just as Worthy’s eyes widened in shock, he began to yell something I couldn’t make out.

Did he change his hair color again? When did one find time to …

Before the thought could finish, I screamed in pain as something hot pierced the skin on the back of my neck. I immediately swatted and felt a crunch as warm sludge filled the spaces between my fingers.

“What the?”

As I pulled the hand in front of my eyes, I saw something similar to a wasp — if wasps had been the size of mice and covered in spikes as long as my thumb. The insect was bright red and was covered in a black, oily substance that leaked from the cracks I had created when crushing it in my hand.

Dozens of the creatures dove at me in the moment I was distracted, seemingly coming from nowhere as if they were born from the smoke and early morning light. I couldn’t detect them with my ability to see mana, nor could I pick out individual insects with my ability to sense eldritch corruption. Instead, the eldritch energy that filled the area seemed to move as a single unit — like a constantly flowing sheet covering the entire field.

New stingers found my exposed flesh but were immediately turned as I instinctively activated my Arcane Shield [Skill]. The stings were constantly depleting my mana, but I was regenerating it fast enough that I could likely keep this up for at least a few more minutes before I needed to worry.

At least, that’s what I thought until the dive-bombing insects began to explode. A dozen flashes blinded me as a shockwave launched me across the field and into the base of a tree. Its branches rattled as I was covered in fallen leaves and splinters of wood.

I picked my self up, using the tree as support. As I turned my eyes back towards the misty field full of buzzing and flashing lights, I smiled. It was, perhaps, the first true joy I had felt in weeks.