Web of Lies

A chorus of laughter echoed through the thick, shadowed trees of Morgoi as Daenys swung effortlessly from branch to branch, her mask hissing vapor with each heavy exhale. Her body strained against the demands of movement, her lungs drinking greedily at the filtered oxygen. The air here was sharp and humid, a sickly combination that burned her throat but still felt alive—dangerously alive, as all of Morgoi was. Behind her, Akash and Mirak bickered like hounds snapping at one another's heels.

With one final leap, gravity reasserted itself, and Daenys caught a sturdy branch. She perched there, crouched like a hunting cat, and waited. The forest swayed in the faint breeze, thick leaves whispering secrets only they knew.

"Mirak, all I'm saying is that we need to follow the river," Akash said, his voice rising like steam from boiling water.

"And that will just lead us straight into a Shifter nest," Mirak shot back, his tone sharp with frustration.

Akash shrugged, unbothered. "And?"

Daenys rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "We need the river," she cut in, her voice firm, final. "The water draws out the bigger game, and we're running low. Either we hunt smart, or we go hungry."

Akash beamed, clearly delighted that she'd taken his side, but before he could open his mouth, Daenys jabbed a finger at him. "And don't even think about trying to ride a Shifter."

The rustle of leaves drew their attention, and Elys emerged from the foliage, his grin as mischievous as ever. Akash's smile turned devilish. "I would never dream of it," he said, the lie as obvious as the sun. "Right, Elys?"

Elys smirked, running a hand through his mess of dark curls. "He's already scheming, isn't he?"

Daenys smirked too despite herself, drinking in the moment—the three of them together, free and unburdened by the weight of tomorrow. She ran a hand through her hair, brushing out twigs and dirt, and asked, "What am I going to do with you two?"

The warmth of their camaraderie pulsed in her chest, a feeling she wanted to hold onto, but something deeper pulled at her. Another part of her—the one that knew what lay ahead—wanted to grab Akash and Mirak and hold them. To lock them in an embrace and never let go. The thought screamed in the pit of her soul: Don't let this slip away. Hold on. Hold on.

"Well," Akash said, grinning as though the world was made of nothing but jokes and joy. "Like it or not, you're stuck with us."

The words rang in her ears like a bell tolling the end of something precious. The trees warped, their edges blurring like ink in water. Akash and Mirak's smiling faces melted into waves of shifting light. Everything folded in on itself, the greens of the forest bleeding into black sludge, and Daenys felt the memory tear itself from her grasp.

"What a beautiful scene," whispered a voice, soft and serpentine.

Daenys spun her head, her gaze cutting through the darkness. Nothing. Nothing.

Her voice quavered. "Where am I?"

The voice seemed to slither through the black void. "Ah, now that is the question, isn't it?"

The forest was gone. Akash and Mirak were gone. In their place churned a sea of black ooze, thick and alive. Silvery wisps floated from Daenys's temples, memories pulled from her mind like threads, unraveling against her will. A soft, chilling laugh echoed as the wisps were drawn down, weaving into the sludge.

Then it began to form. The sludge coalesced into shapes—twisting, writhing—until the first grotesque limb broke free. A bloated, white arm thrust up, its sinews stretching, snapping into place. Daenys choked on her breath as a creature began to rise, pulling itself out of the void. It was humanoid in shape but wrong in every way—four gangly arms, skin stretched tight over unnatural joints, its chest hollow like a cavern. Its face leered at her, a mass of multi-eyed flesh, its grin grotesque.

"What other memories do you carry, I wonder?" the voice mused, playful and cruel.

Daenys's breath caught. "Give it back. They're not yours."

The voice hummed softly, as though amused. "How naive. You think yourself above this? You are but a collection of parts, dear child—thousands of pieces ready to be molded."

Daenys thrashed, her arms jerking wildly as she tried to pull herself free of the sludge. It clung to her, heavy and inescapable, sucking her down. Above her, the creature continued to form, its grin widening as it giggled—a high-pitched, unnatural sound.

From the darkness above, another figure descended: a woman. Or rather, something like a woman. Her form inverted as she floated downward, too many spindly arms hanging like a nightmarish cloak. She knit the creature together with delicate precision, her pale body dripping with the same sludge that surrounded Daenys. Her presence was vast, suffocating.

"Do not mistake what you are," she said, her voice cool and even.

Daenys's glare burned with defiance. "What am I? Tell me."

The woman smiled faintly, though the expression did not touch her eyes. "You think yourself free, child? How amusing. You are my creation."

"Get out of my head," Daenys growled.

"Ah, so fiery. You may yet go far, little one. A champion, perhaps."

"I am not your champion!"

The woman's gaze sharpened. "How ungrateful. You, who crafted your siblings with your very being—deny me all you like, but I am your mother. In time, you will see."

"Never."

The woman sighed, a sound like wind through dry leaves. "Very well. Straight to business, then. You will soon face a choice—an impossible one. To unshackle the Eight Chained Gods… or to save a friend."

Daenys's heart hammered, her mind reeling. "I won't choose."

"You will," the woman said simply. "In time."

A searing pain knifed into Daenys's skull, blinding her. The monster, now fully formed, loomed before her, tattooed and grinning. It giggled again—a sound that would haunt her long after waking.

Daenys jerked awake, bolting upright in her sleeping furs. Her breath came in ragged gulps, her chest heaving as sweat dripped from her brow. She pressed a trembling hand to the center of her chest, grounding herself.

"What happened?" she whispered.

Tengri's low, calm voice broke the silence. "My Gahkar?"

"Nothing. Just a nightmare," she said quickly, waving him off. Her voice wavered despite herself.

Tengri's brow furrowed, but he said nothing, watching as she pushed herself to her feet. She tugged the mooneye silk around her shoulders, its familiar texture steadying her nerves.

"I need a walk."

Tengri frowned. "Your safety—"

"Isn't your concern right now." But when she turned to leave, Tengri fell into step beside her, silent and vigilant as always.

The cold mist of the Lunar Storm bit at her skin as she stepped outside, the air heavy with the quiet menace of night. The mist slithered around her like a living thing, and for a moment, Daenys thought she could hear faint whispers on the wind. She ignored them.

As she and Tengri descended into the camp, the silhouette of the Pickette loomed before them, dark and monstrous against the backdrop of the storm. A simple meeting, she thought. And maybe alliances before the war consumes us all.

Tengri muttered under his breath, "You make my job very difficult."

Daenys smirked faintly. "And yet, here you are."

The mists swirled as they approached the edges of the other Gahkar's camp, the tension of the coming war hanging over them like a blade ready to fall.