Grimhilde rubbed both hands together and watched her breath vanishing on the wind. From her perch atop the pine tree, she had a fine view of the monumental cliffside and its many caverns, but the sight she’d been waiting for had yet to arrive, and a knot of worry was forming in her stomach.

  “I hope he’s okay,” her voice remained melodious in spite of the circumstances. “I wish he wasn’t so eager to charge off! We could have just turned around and gone a different way!”

  Her mood took a turn for the better when someone approached the mouth of the cave, but refused to step into the daylight. Prospero had spent the better part of an hour spelunking through the network, losing his sense of direction, and looping around himself more than a dozen times, only discovering a way out once he had given up all hope of finding one. Grimhilde fluttered down to greet him, unsure of whether to wear a smile or a pout.

  “Grimhilde,” Prospero felt a surge of relief to see her well. “I was worried you might not have escaped from the Tugworms earlier.”

  She belted a chorus of expletives his way, amounting to nothing he could understand. At the very least, it was obvious that he was being scolded for his bull-headed approach.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” he offered a simple apology. “But… for me, at least, it was certainly worth it. You wouldn’t believe the wonderful things I discovered under this old rock.”

  He related the story of the runic meadow as they retreated from the sunlight. No amount of words could do the experience justice, but Grimhilde seemed captivated by the tale nonetheless.

  “I dearly wish you could have seen it,” he said. “When I first arrived, I thought of the wild realms as nothing more than barren wastelands. But I realise now that, untouched by the Coalition’s influence, all sorts of wondrous things have been allowed to transpire here. I can only imagine the beauty that remains to be discovered in these forgotten lands.”

  He had learned something, too; of himself, and of the responsibility he endured. Perhaps, he thought, there was no method of eliminating the anxiety in his heart. And neither was it foolish or gullible to reject those aspects of himself. To remain human, in youthful spite of the Beastblood, was to hold those feelings close. Prospero was still afraid of losing himself, only now less confident that such a thing would come to pass if he truly valued his own life.

  “Orlok cannot be allowed to defeat me, Grimhilde,” he said. “I must make terrible decisions to ensure it does not happen, but I cannot stop to mourn and cry over every life lost in pursuit of my strength. Does that make me a terrible man? A Vampire as wicked as any other?”

  Exercising quite a bit of restraint, the fairy shook her head. It was obvious she had words of encouragement to share, but knew they would be wasted.

  “I won’t cast aside the sorrow of these beasts whose lives are wasted for my sake,” Prospero said. “This is only another responsibility I must endure as the bearer of the Beastblood. Once Orlok is defeated… I’m sure there will be no more need for this bloodshed.”

  He took in a deep breath and allowed his anxiety to pass on the exhale. “Now,” he began. “I feel as if I could get some proper rest now that I’ve calmed down. We can travel the realm once night falls.”

  There were only two nights to spare before Alto and the others would return to collect him. He intended to spend the time he’d been given wisely - anything less was spitting in the face of those who were relying on him. Settling down with a mind not quite as heavy as the night before, Prospero found himself drifting peacefully into sleep for the first time in days.

  The second night fell.

  [Hoofed Ruminant Form] Activated

  Mind (+100%) / Beasthood (+15%)

  Something feels… lighter. Or perhaps less burdened, Prospero thought. It must have something to do with the bonus to my [Unarmed] skill I received from the Elder’s essence. My movements have taken on a less cumbersome quality…

  His speed was nothing to scoff at, either. He could tear across the taiga with ease, blessed with a wider field of view which allowed him to keep a keen eye out for any wandering beasts. The sudden craving for grass was an urge he would have to learn to suppress, but otherwise, the form of an Elk was rather comfortable.

  It’s a shame I can’t take the Elder’s form… my Grade wasn’t anywhere near it.

  He summoned the plaque detailing his statistics and observed that his Grade had increased to a formidable [17]. In terms of pure numbers, he was already well ahead of Aldruag, whom he’d struggled to defeat just a matter of days ago.

  So it increases by [1] for every skill I improve, he observed. I wonder how it works for other Classes? Speaking of, I never did bother to check what Alto’s Class was… I should have a look when we reunite.

  He could no longer deny the tempting power of the Beastblood now that its potential was on full display. His growth was staggering compared to most others. It was no wonder why Orlok placed so much faith in its capabilities. If it fell into the wrong hands, every realm in the Incandescence would be endangered.

  I won’t let that happen, he resolved. I’ll fulfil your last wish, father!

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  His journeying through the night was marked with death. Every spare, exploitable morsel of essence was beyond his right to ignore. No longer could he mourn the dead, much as he was able. Fellow Elk, spiders, lizards, moles; pondside flounders, skippers, snow crabs, and molluscs - anything was fair game to the Beastblood, and he had no other choice but to indulge it.

  [Canine Proficiency] + 6

  [Lupine Proficiency] + 8

  [Rodent Proficiency] + 6

  [Reptile Proficiency] + 15

  [Hoofed Ruminant Proficiency] + 9

  [Arachnid Proficiency] + 15

  [Bony Fish Proficiency] + 5

  [Molluscoid Proficiency] + 5

  [Bony Fish Form] Unlocked! (Aptitude - Knowledge)

  [Molluscoid Form] Unlocked! (Aptitude - Endurance)

  Fish were formidable opponents. He had to sit by the rivers and streams until one drew close enough for him to grab with his tiny mouth, feeling the acid sting of running water whenever he tried. When something emerged from the treeline to contest his hunt, he had an opportunity to test his newfound strength. The nauseous crack of skullbone splintering was followed by a smattering of blood in the light snow. A precise kick from Prospero’s hind legs was more powerful than he anticipated. Augmented by his vampiric strength and the boons to his [Unarmed] skill, the wolf perished without ever understanding why the elk it had chosen to hunt was more dangerous than the rest.

  [Canine Proficiency] + 1

  Hah…

  Prospero only required a second to catch his breath. He was beginning to wonder how he had ever lived without his Vampiric endurance. Adding to that was the small boost he’d earned from consuming essence. There were scarce few things he could imagine tiring him out completely besides the bare sunlight.

  I’ll need an Elite soon, he thought. It’s a shame the Gorgon seemed to be the only one of its kind. If I had consumed the essence now, I would have been able to take its form.

  He turned to the fairy following in his wake. Grimhilde, do you know of any other beasts nearby? You once knew the humans of this realm - were there any troublesome creatures who frequently attacked the village?

  She placed a hand on her chin and mulled his question over. Recalling something, she nodded and gestured for Prospero to follow. From the snowcapped woods, they passed closer to the river delta running low across the hills, where vegetation grew sparse and the terrain uneven. They scaled a mossy crest from which the lowlands were visible towards the horizon. Grimhilde pointed at a small, misty lake hidden among the trees.

  Water, Prospero would have grimaced if an Elk was capable of such an expression. I hope you’re not pointing me towards something beneath the surface. I’m not quite at home around rivers, being a Vampire and all.

  She shook her head. Prospero had learned never to take his eyes off her after a question in case he missed her response.

  Alright, then, he replied. Let’s have a look.

  With the general direction in mind, Prospero set off on a dash to reach the lowlands where the lake was fed from just about every river on the taiga. His acrobatic skill was reliable enough to leap every stream and burn on the way, though he felt a tinge of fear in the second when his body was hovering over one, merely a simple mistake away from enjoying an acid bath.

  Once the lake was in sight, he stopped on a hill to survey the premises. Instantly, his eyes were drawn to the lumbering beasts idling at the water’s edge. Calling them ‘beasts’ may have been too generous in the moment, however, for there were few words to describe their forms that the terms ‘slimy’ and ‘gelatinous’ didn’t cover.

  No - they were no common beasts. With puckered half-lips containing masses of black tentacles and bodies which continuously explored the ranges of symmetry and curvature, they appeared more like the work of some mad, wizardly potter. They were, if Prospero’s budding knowledge of monstrous creatures served correctly, a clutch of Oose membranes.

  I’ve read of these before, he thought. They’re almost like living mold cultures. They split and travel and consume whatever they find before moving on. They don’t so much reproduce… they simply duplicate themselves when enough food is available, and occasionally form larger, permanent colonies.

  They were turgid, sightless beings attracted to warmth, more than content to suckle on growths of algae by riversides but quite capable of using their weight to fend off any predators. The climate of the taiga couldn’t have been ideal for them - that was likely why they had attacked the village. Prospero watched his footing on the way down the hill, observing the creatures bathing in the shallow lakeside.

  The sound one of them made upon detecting him wasn’t something he could replicate with his own mouth, crossed between a gurgle and a scream. The others froze, then gathered with snake-like movements into a tight-knit group.

  Attacking them with strikes would be pointless. Their resistance would force me to take risks with large attacks, Prospero thought. Grimhilde-

  He began that thought and craned his slender neck to see his fairy companion busying herself with some kind of ritual. Her words escaped in whispers, hidden beneath the boreal winds. Again, a marble of light formed in the space between her conjoined hands. When she released it, the light hovered towards Prospero and vanished when it touched his head.

  An ember flared up from his hooves. He looked down, surprised to spot a shimmering haze encircling all four legs. Where his feet landed, the layer of sleet covering the ground melted and vaporised.

  An enchantment, he scraped his hoof along the ground. You’re full of surprises, Grimhilde.

  She shot a great, toothy grin his way. The Oose were slithering towards them, their bodies sticking to the terrain like tar and leaving a discoloured trail of mucus in their wake. Numbering four in total, Prospero targeted the closest and leapt into the air, using the height advantage to land upon its back. His hooves seared through the slippery, onyx flesh, revealing translucent organs of esoteric form and function beneath.

  A tentacle lashed from the creature’s un-mouth to sweep him off, but Prospero was already gone. He repeated the process for another, hopping down before the Oose could react to his presence and twirling his posture to deliver a stern kick with his hind legs to a third specimen. Stunned and off-balance, it rolled like a log down the hillside, bowling down the fourth Oose which had only just begun its ascent.

  The first two moved down to meet him, their tentacular pseudopods forming a reliable barrier. Prospero made use of his agile body to outmanoeuvre their advance, skidding along the rock face close to the hill’s steepest point and using its snowcapped footholds to gain ground.