I peered down from the mountain's crown, my immense form coiled around its bulk like a living landslide. Below, the valley writhed with insects. Battalions of soldiers stood in tight, trembling formations. Fear radiated from them like stink – palpable, sour – yet they held their ground, shoulder to shoulder, facing annihilation. Such pathetic bravery was utterly sickening.
With a serpentine shift, I slithered higher, scales grating against rock. Each movement dislodged boulders, sending avalanches crashing into the chasms below. My head, massive as a keep, settled near the peak. Let's see if this batch offers more sport than the last. A low rumble, my version of a chuckle, vibrated through the stone. Foolish thought. They would be pulp before their pitiful weapons even kissed my obsidian scales. Ahh, such waste. Bow and live, or stand and die meaninglessly. The choice was always theirs.
BOOM.
A thunderous chorus ripped the air. The sky darkened, not with storm clouds, but with a seething storm of arrows, bolts, and magically imbued projectiles – a desperate, glittering death-rain aimed squarely at me.
Impressive volume. Utterly futile.
I closed my great, slitted eyes. Let them have their moment. Thousands of impacts peppered my hide. The sensation? Less than raindrops. Less than gnats. A faint, discordant tink-tink-tink against impervious scales. Not bad. Five out of a hundred for sheer audacity. My amusement curdled into boredom. My turn.
The mountain itself groaned as I uncoiled, rising like a continent shrugging off its chains. My head lifted above the peak, horns piercing the low-hanging clouds. Venom, thick and corrosive as molten lead, dripped from my tongue, sizzling where it struck stone. Time to baptize these fools in miasma. Watch their flesh slough off their bones, melt into their polished armor like candle wax. A delightful spectacle.
I drew the toxic breath deep into cavernous lungs, ready to unleash oblivion. Then, a sudden, violent surge of essence crackled through the atmosphere. Raw, potent, ancient. It slammed against my senses like a physical blow, halting my exhale mid-swell.
Intrigued, I tilted my colossal head. And saw her.
She stood upon the air as if it were solid marble. Long, silver hair streamed like liquid moonlight behind her, undisturbed by the wind that whipped her crimson dress into furious, bloody banners. But it was her eyes. As they lifted, meeting my own ancient gaze across the impossible distance, I felt something long buried stir within my primordial core. A flicker. A spark against the crushing weight of decades of tyranny. Challenge. After countless years of effortless slaughter... I had finally met my equal.
***
Consciousness returned in fractured shards. Agony was my first anchor to reality – a deep, pervasive throb radiating from every fiber of my being. My eyes fluttered open, crusted and heavy. Blurred vision resolved into the hunched, desiccated back of the thing that had inflicted this torment. It moved with an alien gait, carrying me like a sack of offal. Alive. Still alive. The realization brought no relief, only a fresh wave of nausea as the memory of invasive tendrils, of bones snapping like twigs under that monstrous foot, flooded back.
I tried to shift, to scream, to fight. My body was a leaden prison, unresponsive. Even the desperate will to stay conscious frayed and snapped. Darkness swallowed me again, thick and suffocating.
***
Air ripped into my lungs like shards of glass. I jolted upright, heart hammering a frantic drum solo against my ribs, threatening to shatter them anew. Instinctively, my hands flew to my chest, probing, searching for the ruin I knew must be there.
Nothing.
My breath hitched. I flexed my left arm – the one shattered beyond recognition. It moved freely. Strong. Intact. I ran trembling hands over my ribs, my back, my legs. No pain. No lingering ache. Just... whole. Healed. A cold dread, sharper than any physical pain, coiled in my gut. This isn't fortune. This is the catch. What did it do?
The question echoed in the stifling silence. Where was I?
I lay curled in a corner, rough stone cold against my cheek, facing a damp, featureless wall. Slowly, dreading what I might find, I rolled onto my back.
My heart plummeted. Ice flooded my veins.
I was in the back corner of a vast, cavernous room. Dank air, thick with the smell of mildew, wet stone, and something faintly metallic, clogged my throat. Despite the profound gloom, my eyes pierced the shadows with unnatural clarity – a horrifying gift.
The sight curdled my blood. Dozens. Maybe a hundred. Pale, hairless humanoid figures sat crouched on the filthy stone floor, utterly motionless. Not a whisper of sound, not a twitch. They were statues carved from bleached wax. And at the room's far end, dominating the space, loomed a grotesque statue: a humanoid goat with massive, spiraling horns. From its gaping stone mouth, thick rivulets of the same viscous, obsidian liquid that had violated my body oozed slowly, pooling on the floor below.
Panic, cold and razor-sharp, seized me. Run. The primal urge screamed through every nerve. But where? The only exit – a heavy, iron-bound door – lay across the room, blocked by row upon silent row of the pallid watchers.
Is this my future? The thought was a poisoned dart. One of these... husks?
A sudden, sharp sting pierced the nape of my neck. I slapped at it instinctively, but this was no insect. Horror detonated within me as I felt it – something small, hard, and distinctly alien squirming just beneath my skin, burrowing deeper.
The sharp crack of my palm against my own flesh shattered the tomb-like silence
As one, every hairless head in the room snapped towards the sound. A hundred pairs of sunken, empty eyes fixed on me. Faces devoid of expression, of humanity, pale masks stretched over skulls. They were empty vessels, all vestiges of whoever they had been long erased.
They simply... stared. No movement. No sound. No recognition. Just that unnerving, collective gaze. Then, with chilling synchronicity, they turned their heads back to their original positions, resuming their silent vigil.
Relief warred with revulsion. They weren't attacking. Yet. The door... it was still there. If these things remained catatonic... perhaps a path existed through their ranks. A desperate gamble. But the only one I had.