Nekroz

  What might is there in wisdom? There is the might of knowledge, of secret ways to live. What might is there in secrets? There is the might of continuance, to survive another day. What might is there in tomorrow? The might of I survived, and what does not kill me makes me greater than I was. And if I become great enough, than even the dark shall bend the knee.

  Days.

  It took us several days to escape the forest and step foot in the territory of the Amber king. Days of arduous travel and frequent barely survived skirmishes. Each introducing me to a new and terrifying inhabitant of the abyss. The worst of which being a gigantic spider that drained it's victims of their soul. A fate I had the displeasure of witnessing befall a creature like a crow, if said crow was twenty times bigger and three times as angry.

  ... Well, in all honesty, it was a contest between the spider and the "King" from my dream. Which, up until recently I had tried to forget about. Writing it off as a particurly lucid dream.

  But the more Fisher mentioned this amber king of his, the more I suspected my lucid dream wasn't just a dream. Fortunately I had no concrete evidence for my suspicion other than feeling. The same that had foolishly led me into buying this dumb amulet. So maybe it really was just a dream.

  Maybe.

  Either way, I had no evidence. So, I tucked the thought into the back of mind, where I reserved thoughts strictly meant for ter. And once I had, I focused on the much more relevant and demanding sight in front of me. Something I could scarcely believe was real.

  An antiquated little vilge.

  Which, as was quickly becoming the norm now, shouldn't have been possible. At all.

  And not because Abyssal's didn't build. They did. But because they had no reason to build a vilge of all things. It went against their very nature. A nature that almost always tended towards violence, destruction, or oppression with very little exceptions. Which oftentimes led them to build stone monuments - things meant to st, to carry on the memory of them.

  Not this.

  Whatever this was, whether a cruel mockery of human culture, or some rare anomaly in how Abyssals behaved, it wreaked of wrong. A perfect example of something that didn't belong in this dark pce.

  And that was concerning to say the least.

  The type of concerning that left my gut twisted up in knots.

  I couldn't say the same for Fisher. If anything he looked rexed, moreso than he had in days. No anxiety warring for control of his face. No subtle jittering, or that lingering shaking that came after staring death straight in the eyes. It was almost peace. Thinly veiled curiosity if you will.

  And that comforted me a little. It made the vilge seem less abhorrently wrong. More oddity than a fundamental breaking of the rules. Either way it didn't change anything. We were walking in whether I liked it or not.

  And that was just what we did. Straight past a barely standing shack of a house and into the vilge proper. A strange sort of experience. And it wasn't because how 'ramshackle' it all was.

  No, the strangeness came from the dozen or so eyes watching us. Abyssals, all. Rough shaped and made of flesh, bone, and scale among other things. Each entirely unique in the most horrific of ways.

  They watched us from their homes. Leaning through windows and doorways. Eyes unblinking. Mouths hanging open, hunger on dispy for all too see.

  And it was obvious why.

  To them, I was exotic. The rarest sort of fresh catch. A creature of the light. A meal that promised ascension. And for that reason alone, they should have attacked. Collective mob or otherwise. But they didn't. Instead, they stared.

  Which was, in a way, creepier than if they had just followed their base instincts. That way things would've been simple. Easy to tell who was friend, who was foe. No need to wonder if the attack would happen now, ter, or not at all. Sides clearly and easily defined.

  Those sides were muddy now. Messy in that way you only got with people. As if they had reason not to act on impulse, whether for ill or good.

  Fisher seemed ticked off by it as well. Eyeing the "vilgers" with open hostility. Protective.

  And he kept at it till we were out of sight. Deeper in the vilge where there weren't as many eyes looking about for their next meal.

  "I don't like this pce. It's unnatural." He said as we came to a stop near another barely standing house, leaning against it's wall.

  I nodded. Motion moving down to my chest. "You guys don't build stuff like this normally, right?"

  "I don't even know what this is. I just know I don't like it. Smells like chains."

  "Chains?" I asked.

  Only for a sound like thunder to draw our attention. Grabbing at us like children and pulling us towards it. Heads craning around to the other side of the wall where we found a band of Abyssals working together to rip a giant fish apart.

  A giant fish that was 7 meters long and had legs like a bug. Bck thin things that ended in grasping fingers and cws. Each one in the process of being torn apart, piece by piece, by Abyssals working in groups of two.

  It looked borious. Hard. A series of snapping limbs apart and scraping off the bck armor that remained. A process that repeated itself again and again till they reached the hard bone and meat beneath. Materials that they would then run off with, taking it somewhere.

  Together they bent each inflexible leg till it snapped. Then they would peel off the bck hard scales that were on the outside of it, till they unearthed the meat and bone beneath.

  Raw material that they handed off to a living ball of limbs. A thing of arms and legs, all spped together in an imperfect sphere of inky bck flesh and sinew.

  An abomination that took what was given to it and rolled - if that could be called rolling - off to deliver it somewhere before returning. A job it repeated over and over in the few minutes we had been watching. Each trip taking it no longer than most of a minute. And naturally, I was curious.

  After all, what would a vilge of abyssals be doing with all that?

  Eating it. Making crude weapons out of it. Were the first two answers that came to mind.

  "I smell sg and fire. A smith." Fisher said the third.

  So, in the least suspicious manner we could manage, we followed after the little nightmare ball. Trailing behind it. Quick to follow as it vanished down a hall of bleak homes. Wood sagging like it was depressed. And all the way up to a house standing taller than the rest. It had a chimney too. Crude and belching bck smoke every so often.

  There it dropped it's load off. Vanishing to go collect more. And as soon as it left, another Abyssal, hairy like a goat with four multicolored horns, would step out and pick the materials up.

  We approached as he did so.

  He saw us and shut the door.

  "You think that's the smith?" Fisher asked.

  I wasn't much of a betting girl, but if I was. "Yeah. Only building with a chimney and smoke. Plus they are bringing all the raw material here."

  Fisher nodded like my expnation made perfect sense. I wasn't sure it did. But that didn't matter. We were already walking. A fist poised to knock on the door. Just had to reach over my bust...

  And that was when the same goat looking Abyssal returned. Ft pupils staring daggers at us.

  "What do you want?"

  "Are you a smith?" I asked, putting on my nicest face.

  He raised a brow. "What counts for one out here. Yeah, what of it?"

  I grabbed the amulet sitting round my neck, and lifted it for him to see. "I was wondering-"

  "Come inside."

  We did. First Fisher, then my breasts - forcing the smith to back up - and then me. Inside we found an expanse of shelves. Every one of them stacked with some sort of material. Bones. Rock. Wood. Even some metal. There was bits of flesh too. Still pulsing, alive, as we passed by.

  All of it I gave as wide a berth as possible, until we reached the back. A smaller area. Definitely the work area. Kitted out with a stone box filled with fire and a few tools. All of them crudely fashioned from bone.

  There was a chair too. Made of dripping things and wood. Holding fast as the smith sat in it. His eyes locking onto his furnace as something within burned.

  "I can't break or undo the enchantments on that amulet. Don't know anyone mighty enough to do it either."

  I frowned. Involuntary. Emotions betraying me. "Ok. Well what am I supposed to do then? I don't exactly wanna be trapped down here forever."

  "Sorry. Best I can recommend is heading toward one of the cities. Look for someone who can point you towards whoever enchanted it."

  My frown deepened. "You have cities?"

  He turned and looked up at me. Light from the furnace glinting off his horns. "We do now. Thanks to the king. Didn't see the might in'em at first. I do now."

  He paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face.

  "Do me a favor when you get to the city Light born. Remember it. Scratch it into memory. Make that memory Mighty."

  And before I could ask what he meant by that, Fisher took a step forward.

  "Where is the might in memory?" He asked.

  The goat chuckled. "I'm not quite sure. But I know the king said there is might in it, and I don't know anyone mightier than him. So he must be right, right?"

  "Right~." I said, hand sneaking to Fisher's shoulder. "Well thank you, but I think we should get going now."

  And then I made to turn. Ready to leave before the two could descend into some sort of philosophical argument I didn't have time for.

  Instead, the smith pulled something out his forge and offered it. A thing made of bone. Edges sharp. Small, like a knife.

  "Take it." He said. Eyes refusing to meet mine. "Don't know why I'm feeling so generous today. Maybe it's cuz a thing like you ain't built for our world."

  I took it. Felt the weight of it in my hands. The sharpness of it's edges.

  It was a good knife.

  "Thank you." I said, bowed, regretted it when my chest nearly pulled me to the ground, and stood up.

  Then we left. Making our way out the smithy the same way we came in. And it was only when we stepped foot outside that I realized I had no idea where the city was. I was pretty sure Fisher didn't know either. And I would've walked back in to ask for directions, but was stopped by the sound of approaching footsteps.

  There was a small gang behind us.