Death had come for My‑re.
There was no running. No hiding. The Grey Wand, one of the most powerful artifacts in all of Alastari, sank fast into the lake. Her doom rose from the depths. The Lake of Mists’ monster. A column-shaped creature distorted the water around it with one distinguishing feature. A circular mouth protruding serrated teeth eager to swallow her whole. She thought briefly about swimming back to the surface, but why? It was futile. Maybe it’d allow her another instant on this plane of existence, but not a pleasant one. Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung. Every muscle ached. All hope lost. She had mere moments left. However, her last act would be at least for something: to retrieve the Grey Wand.
My‑re kicked faster, deeper. A sharp pain shot through her ears, like a thin object being pushed through both ear canals. The water’s pressure. Now, the air in her lungs would give out at this depth, even if she turned around. The creature was faster. It would reach the wand first. It would then get her. She resigned in failing but continued to push forward. Maybe Ahringol, the God of the Dead, would take pity on her soul if she didn’t give up.
Something behind My‑re grabbed the seat of her pants. She turned her head and saw Phetmolge, the captain of the Nightie. He swam downwards with his gigantic long spear, its razor-sharp point leading the way. In the other, he pulled her down with him. The Grey Wand and the creature grew closer. He pushed her through the water toward the wand and continued downward toward the beast.
The Grey Wand was within reach. My‑re saw the point of Phetmolge’s spear plunge straight into the monster’s mouth. He continued to swim downward, pushing the creature with him. She lost sight of him in the depths and bubbles from their struggle. Turning her attention to the wand, she reached for it, but it seemed to move. Maybe the current? The air in her lungs burned and wanted to give out. Letting her body relax, she started to breathe out. The sensation relieved, but she also wanted to breathe in. Stopping exhaling, she choked down the remaining air, causing uncontrolled spasms in her lungs, and it felt like they were going to implode. She would drown, but she would retrieve the wand and hope it’d be found with her body. Using both hands, she wrapped them around it in a death-like grip.
Unseen from before, runes instantly awoke and lit up along its length. Powerful energy coursed up My‑re’s arms. She almost screamed. Every nerve in her body lit on fire and sprung to full life. Echoes of forgotten battles and deeds rushed through her mind. Images of multiple high circular doorways on raised stone frameworks sealed and flashed, like a deck of cards being flipped one after the other in front of her. They all appeared to be artifacts of unfathomable age, built by being as far beyond her as she might be above a rodent. Etched and carved around the entire frame were oversized runes. Around them, battles raged, and she felt hot blood splash across her body. She welcomed its warmth. Broken armies of nightmarish creatures fled before her. She felt a desire—no, an excitement—to chase them down and destroy them. The Grey Wand had been in many great and ancient wars, and she felt drawn to be part of it. A new energy coursed through her body. It melted away all pain and awakened her to her full potential. Death would not come to My‑re.
She awakened to reality. Phetmolge's form appeared far below. He had pinned the creature through its mouth with his gigantic long spear to the bottom of the lake. His kicks were getting weaker and he appeared to be drowning. The outline of four tentacles were snaking their way up the long spear.
Kicking with more power than she knew she had, My‑re advanced, wand in hand. She didn’t want to breathe. She didn’t need to breathe. All discomfort in her lungs and ears vanished. Reaching out, she grabbed the seat of Phetmolge’s pants. Gaining a firm grip, she tugged. Her action stirred him. He resisted, limbs flailing. Panicking, likely unable to hold the air in his lungs, he had the wild look of terror of drowning in his eyes. She pulled him away and upward.
Phetmolge had served his purpose and was no longer needed. My‑re required room to fight and needed to get him out of the way. With an unconscious thought, a transparent shield protruded from the wand. She swept the shield in a backhanded motion. It pushed Phetmolge upward and away. He raced toward the surface and quickly out of view. She turned to the pinned creature. Outlines of red-tinted tentacles, visible in the water, pulled out the spear, impaled through its mouth.
She then saw the whole of the creature in the Lake of Mists’ current. A ten-foot-tall and half that wide column of ooze, which had the consistency of thick honey, thrashed in a torrent of flux. The sound of a thousand angry, rumbling bubbles emitted from its circular mouth, like in pain. The column’s shape bulged at various angles, and its energy swirled violently as if a storm had occurred within its frame. The column-shaped creature began to turn toward her. A surge of protoplasm in the outline of a tentacle turned Captain Phetmolge’s spear toward her. The long spear rushed forward through the water with incredible swiftness and power.
Swimming, My‑re twisted her body to get out of the way.
Freed from being pinned, the creature swam in circles around her. Bubbles hampered her vision. In a moment, it appeared above her. It dove forward, one of its tentacles stabbing repeatedly with its charge!
My‑re spiraled the shield protruding from the wand and deflected the attack.
The creature flinched as the tentacle bent. It appeared broken by the blow. The damaged limb withdrew back into its form. The Grey Wand could hurt it! However, it still had three viable appendages, each angling for a way around her defenses.
It struck with a limb. My‑re deflected. Fighting in the sea slowed her movements. She wasn’t trained in underwater combat.
Another limb blurred forward, stabbing suddenly with blinding speed. It hit My‑re’s right thigh in a terrific blow. It felt like someone had smashed her with a bat. Agony swept down her leg.
The third limb made an incredible flesh-splitting slash.
My‑re unthinkingly reacted and used the shield to deflect the attack. The parry caused her to overextend herself.
The other two limbs lunged forward, thrusting with incredible speed and accuracy. Too slow to get out of the way, they hit My‑re in the chest. Her limited endowments helped absorb the blow. The third limb struck forward like cold, cruel steel. Floating in the water, she curved snakelike from the blow at the last instant.
Out of her element, My‑re couldn’t maneuver with one good leg. The water caused her movements to slow, and her opponent didn’t seem hampered by the element. It moved too fast. The only thing she could do was react. However, she doubted this thing would tire easily. Desperate, she had to gain the initiative.
She pushed off from the bottom of the lake’s bed and sought the counterstrike. She barreled forward, trying to pummel her opponent with the wand’s shield.
The Lake of Mists’ monster’s three limbs converged and made a wall the blow could not pass.
My‑re attempted to pivot, but the limbs slithered around her shield. The creature’s circular mouth with serrated teeth all around pressed forward. She had to keep the shield in front of her. The three limbs snaked their way up her arm. She attempted to jerk away, but they held her tight. Desperation set in as the points of two of them pressed into each ear. A piercing, burning pain shot through her head. She screamed, but only bubbles came out—the last of her air. The third limb forced its way into her open mouth. She automatically clenched her teeth. It felt like biting into hardened jelly. Her eyes grew wide in fright as the fourth, previously broken limb emerged, fully healed, and came under her shield. It snaked its way over her body and made for her nose. She attempted to twist her head, but the two limbs in her ears held her still. She couldn’t escape and cursed her stupid arrogance, thinking she could take on this creature alone. The fourth limb entered her nostrils. Helpless, the last thing she saw was her blood in the water. She fell into darkness.
Death had come for My‑re.