Of Stone, Of Flesh ll

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Hey lads, this is some important stuff here pertaining to uploads. Things ain't the best right now. I'm struggling to get 1000+ word chaps out right now. So I have to ask, do you guys want shorter very frequent chapters? (600+) Or continue with the big wait? Tell me in the comments not here cause the paragraph comments are always funky to reply to. Anyways, the drill is the same, if you see something say something and I'll correct it.

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POV: Scola

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I had little memory of what to think, what to feel. The warmth of another was something so alien to me that in the end, out of fear, I tore my hand from his grip just as the grand silver door to the room began to open.

And from his grip came a small chunk of his flesh along with my blade.

That fear which had been born of confusion and misunderstanding now changed into a gut wrenching dread as I watched droplets of blood fall from his torn palm, each echoing like a roar through the extensive tunnels as they hit the floor. Seeing him drop down in pain, I could already surmise my horrid fate. However, that did not matter right now. My fate was already set, and he was in pain. I could only do something about one of these things. Grabbing him and swiftly slipping through the silver doors. The red demon generally enjoyed playing with her food.

And I remember how she elongated her amusement.

I threw him onto the bed, before diving into the demon's stash of poisons, picking the one I remembered the most. A grass-like smell seeped into my antenna as I picked the bandages made of my silk, wrapping them around his warm hand as I snipped the small length I had drawn out from the spool as my lower set of arms reached out for the scented bottle of green liquid.

It was then that once again my claws, pincers and blades failed me. I couldn't grip the bottle with my small pincers. They simply did not have the manoeuvrability of the hands that the master and her glooms create, or those of the boy in front of me. Desperation began to fill my mind as-

*Clink*

The boy grabbed the bottle and placed it in my grasp as he gave me a slightly amused smile. The fear and desperation that had built up in me slowly melted away as that glimpse of something I just didn't fully grasp as I had the bottle, floated in my mind. Moments later as I dwelled on the small smile that had shone so bright even in the dim light of the cave I realized my pincers had stopped moving.

A solemn breath left me as thoughts of what I had done clambered to blot out the light of the boy.

Once again I heard the boy speak, the sounds and intonations portraying their meaning as best they could. It seemed he had mistaken my fear for hostility. However he also seems to be less capable of understanding me, while I can gather the general gist of most of his sounds. Explaining would be difficult, however it's not as though I have much time to do so.

As I slowly became lost in a sea of thoughts my concentration was once again broken by movement. The boy had gotten up, and was now walking over to the waste pits. I prepared to move and help him however he rejected my obvious move to his side, his voice echoing in the enclosed chambers. Once he was sure I stopped attempting to follow him, he made his way over to the pit.

The moment he left my sight, I drew my right blade. Its edge was a glistening red, almost tempting my foggy mind with delusions of understanding. If I consumed it, what I had done would never be forgiven. The master was not so merciful as to forgive someone else hunting her prey. But then again, if my fate was already sealed. Then I ought to at least make her vengeance into something she truly desired. After all, a servant's duty is to grant their master's desire.

Bringing the blade up to my mandibles I took a taste.

In that moment my mind was swept away into a river of emotion. Fear, anger, then finally despair all washed over me like a flood as I felt something change within me. I watched silhouettes of beings resembling the master and the boy disappearing, before seeing flames consume our sight. I was then back in Iron Wood, desperation slowly mounting as fear built up within us. And then, at the end of our wit and hope she came for us. As these vivid images played before me I was left with a sense of familiarity. His warmth, it was not drawing me in simply because of how new it was to me. It wasn't new to me at all.

Hidden from the dangers beyond the shell I was birthed from, I had once before felt this warmth. Along with the warmth of a thousand siblings beside me.

As my mind wandered away from his memories I began to delve into my own. Not from my life as a servant, or even from my life as a slaughterer.

No, none of those. This was from my life within the shell. The low, earth shaking rumble of my father as he quietly conversed with mother. The echoes of my mothers deep grumblings as they lay entwined with each other. The taste of blood that had seeped through the shell as Father roared high above, the shattered carapace of mother having done its duty in protecting us.

The freezing darkness that extinguished the flames that sought to consume me.

I remembered it all. But I did not hold a grudge against the breath of the master and the red demon.

We had been her prey after all.

The weak cannot complain from beyond the grave.

It's completely understandable.

So when I felt the malevolent aura slip into the room to take my life, and watched as the visions of the past fade away, I held no regrets. The boy had put me in his debt. He had granted me a window into a past I had never seen. Watching him shiver in fear as the master exuded her strength I gave myself up without even a thought to defend myself. I had damaged what was hers after all. As the crushing pressure solidified around my throat and destroyed it, as my blood gushed to the floor, the only thing I could think was that this was fair.

My sight slowly dimmed as I was dropped like a stone.

And in the last moments, I saw a green flash, and a familiar hand reaching out to me.

…

When I awoke from death, I was not shocked, but saddened.

As someone who had served the red demon, and had seen her teach the master her techniques, I knew what I should expect from such a timely revival. However when my eyes opened I was not on the stone slab that they had used to play with their prey.

I coiled in front of the boy who had his head laid on the master's lap.

"Consider this a miracle, for it will never happen again."

If I could speak the language of the boy, I would've laughed. Instead, I clicked my mandibles as elation slowly filled me from within. The euphoria of the kill was the closest I had felt to this. It was something that filled my armour with pride to the point it was bursting at the seams.

The boy had thwarted the master.

No, he had thwarted Tyvelia.

I was not dead.

And indeed, it was a miracle, a unique happening to never be seen again. For I would never serve this scaled abomination again.

And on that day, I would learn the name of my brother.

The name of the one who was so close, yet so far out of my grasp.

His name was Deus.