Wish upon the Stars chapter 919

The frog king was NOT happy to be captured. Which, you know, objectively reasonable. Who likes getting kidnapped. Admittedly, the frog was m

The frog king was NOT happy to be captured. Which, you know, objectively reasonable. Who likes getting kidnapped. Admittedly, the frog was more verbose about it than I suspect most creatures are. But after we explained we weren’t planning to kill him or eat him he calmed down. Archie looked a little disappointed, but I drew the line at eating sentient creatures that are actively begging for mercy. Or like…demanding it acerbically.

“Humans,” he announces grandly. “I will allow you to remain in my august presence as we journey to meet with the point ears.”

Bethy stared at him indecisively for a moment, then turned to regard me imperiously. “This one,” she said, her tone like the edict of an immortal empress. “Is not cute. We can get rid of it. We should find something better. Something fuzzy.”

On that cheery note we continued onward. We had a meeting with the Murk Elves to attend, though I was told we weren’t really on a deadline, it was just generally agreed the faster we moved the better. With the frog king coming along with us, we moved faster than I’d thought. I’d have expected the candidates and their subordinates to follow us, but apparently either the loss or whatever the frog king had done to them had scared them off, so we made surprisingly good time.

Arriving at the Murk Elf village though, I was pretty thrown by how…normal it looked. The town was very neat, well kept and cleanly constructed houses surrounded by cute little fences with tiny gardens laid out in the surrounding yards.

Of course, that peaceful and idyllic impression was somewhat disturbed by my Danger Sense screaming bloody murder when I came within a hundred feet of one of those gardens. Every single plant in every single yard was maximum levels of toxic, to the point that I was worried the wind would shift and some of our people would fall over dead.

Sitting outside the village were what looked like a welcome wagon of friendly, approachable elves. They were tall and pale, with moss green hair and eyes and happy smiles. They wore light, breezy clothes and had cheerful and upbeat demeanors.

But there was more beyond that. If I hadn’t been looking for the signs I’d have missed them. The incredibly sharp nails, the serrated teeth that vaguely showed behind their tightly closed lips.

I triggered Zagan as I strolled forward to meet them. “Greetings friends,” said the leader, a tall, spindly male elf with sharp cheekbones and a small scar on his jaw. “Welcome to our humble home.” He offered his hand to me as I approached. “Be welcome in our place of life.”

He looked like the picture of elfin hospitality, and anyone outside the situation might have really believed his act. I, however, took his hand and immediately felt a surge of power billow through me as Zagan purified the poison he was emitting. And it wasn’t even his full effort. Murk Elves synthesized poison in their blood stream. I was catching contact poison off like…hand sweat.

The elf raised an eyebrow with interest, his moss green eyes the only part of his face not smiling. “Well now, how interesting, it’s been so long since we had guests who could keep up.”

“Monico,” Devlan sighed from behind me (several hundred feet behind me, in fact). “I brought him here to meet with you about an alliance. There’s no need for hostility. He’s well aware of the rite of fortitude and is happy to drink with you.”

Monico’s eyes snapped up suspiciously. “He may be aware of the rite of fortitude, but you were not. At least not before your arrival here. Who speaks to you of such things?”

“I do,” Dayna said, stepping forward with a cold stare. “Or do the Murk Elves no longer recognize their brethren of the vanishing tribes?” I hadn’t been aware there was a name for it, or that they had that kind of interaction. Based on Monico’s face though, he recognized Dayna and her comment hit him hard.

“A heaven murder elf,” he said grimly. “What a misfortune to be visited upon my humble village. We honor the old ways, traveler, you are recognized, though not welcome.”

She shrugged. “I’m not exactly thrilled to be lunching with you either. All I ask is that you hear him out. Consider the offer, and I’ll consider any duties you have to me as host completed in full, and we can ignore each other as we’d both prefer.”

“You keep…interesting company,” Monaco said to me with a steely grin, squeezing down harder on my hand. “But I suppose it says quite a bit about your capabilities as a leader. Very well. We dispense with the games. Will you undertake the rite of fortitude? Will you drink the most potent venom of the Swamp Ghouls and seek survival within the jaws of death itself?”

As he spoke, the air around us grew heavy. Something shifted slightly in the atmosphere, shadows lengthening and cold win flitting over us. Behind him, I saw the eyes of the Murk Elves glow a dim, ominous green. I nodded firmly. “I will.”

He stared at me for a moment, eyes boring into me like icepicks. “Very well,” he said again. “Fetch the table and the grail!”

Behind him, all the Murk Elves gasped and whispered, one of them taking off into the village and running to the biggest house before coming back with a pair of objects, one small wooden table and one beaten brass cup carved with exquisite symbols.

Callie, contacting me through the bond so I could hear, leaned over to Dayna. “So…what’s that?”

“It’s a Gloomblood Grail,” the archer said with a sigh. “They’re rare and difficult to find, but it’ll make this more dangerous. The grail retains the venomous essence of previous rites performed with it. It’s not enough to decide things on its own, but it will make this much harder. I didn’t expect them to have one.”

Monico gestured for me to sit at the table, on one of a pair of mushrooms that grew from the ground at a gesture, and I did so, as he set the grail in front of us, he poured a measure of water he was handed into the grail, then pricked a finger and dripped it into the cup. The runes glowed, and the water inside shifted from clear to a lurid purple, beginning to glow.

“The rite of fortitude is quite simple,” he told me with a pleasant, sharklike smile. He wasn’t bothering to hide his rows of razor sharp teeth this time. “The adapted version requires a single drink and then survival, but the original uses the grail. The grail converts life energy into toxicity. As we each pick it up and sip, passing it back and forth, the damage to our life force from the poison will funnel into the grail, reinforcing the toxin.”

He chuckled at my silence, apparently taking it as some kind of fear response. “Fear not, we have an antidote on hand if needed. We aren’t fools. While your family might be in contention with one another at the moment, we are not well loved. Killing you while you’re under hopsitality and have offered no violence to us would cause no end of problems.”

I didn’t speak, but nodded, focusing on the grail as I triggered my mask to open up like when I ate. Seeing Monico had no intention of doing anything, I sighed internally, reached for the cup, and took a sip. Sure enough, there was a roar of energy inside me as the poison in the cup clashed with the power of Zagan enhanced by Sammael. Rather than actually damage me though, it was just burned off, and there was a flicker of green fire in the purple liquid as it bubbled and hissed.

Setting it down, I pushed the grail towards the other side of the table. Smirking Monico picked up the cup and took a long sip. As he did, his brow furrowed and his eye twitched, the smile falling off his face. He looked at me sharply, but I remained silent as he pushed the cup back my way.

Without any hesitation, I picked the cup up and took a sip. This time, the reaction was bigger. The runes on the cup had flared when Monico drank, and the feedback from my own power was there too. I’d expected it to purify the poison somewhat, and it had…which was the problem. Monaco’s bloodline poison was cultivated carefully. It was MEANT to be toxic. Purifying it didn’t turn it into something safe, it just removed impurities that made it LESS poisonous.

More fire drained into the grail as my form burned off the much stronger poison, but this time, Zagan had trouble with the toxin. I had to sit for a second and process before it was cleansed, and when I put the grail down, I felt a slight strain on my soul.

This time, Monaco’s expression when he drank was strained, and I groaned at my next sip. Back and forth we passed the grail, the poison becoming denser and denser. My Zagan form couldn’t keep up, every sip burned poison, but it was so slow after so many rounds I was still burning the poison from the sip before, and it was starting to snowball. I groaned internally, but forced myself to ignore the pain as I drank. 

Despite the small size of the grail, they’d poured a whole pitcher of water into it, so I assumed it was spatially expanded. Even so, we quickly approached the end of the concoction, and I found it harder and harder to endure.

Monico wasn’t doing much better. His pale skin was mottled blue and green. Not like a supernatural alteration, but like he was nauseous and suffocating at the same time. Apparently even his own resistance to his blood had been far outstripped by the toxicity of what was currently in that cup.

I slammed the cup down, panting, teeth gritted, and pushed it slowly to the other side, my hands shaking. My throat burned, my eyes watered, my lungs cramped. Pain beyond imagining was wracking my body, and I could imagine LOTS of pain. But I didn’t give up.

Monaco glared at me in defiance, wrapping his long fingers around the grail and slowly raising it to his mouth. His hand shook so hard the purple liquid sloshed over the edge, hissing and burning away the table where the drops landed. He raised it slowly to his lips, eyes boring into mine…and then fell over.

Another Murk Elf, a tall willowy girl with curly moss green hair, took my hand and raised it above my head. “Victor!” She called in an exuberant voice.

“Yeah, thanks,” I gritted out. “Can you give me the antidote now? I am in…indescribable pain.”

She nodded, then reached down to the grail, tapping a series of runes. The bubbling purple liquid seethed, boiling over, and purple smoke rose from it, floating off into the breeze and leaving just a green glowing liquid. Smiling, she handed me the cup, and I nodded gratefully, taking a long sip. I felt pure relief wash through me, revitalizing my body like rain in the desert.

It blended with the power of my Zagan fire, enhancing it as I gloried in the sheer gratitude that I wasn’t suffering anymore. I was so wrapped up in it that I missed them dumping a bit of it into Monico’s mouth, but I noticed them leaving with the still full cup as the elf leader groaned, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. He shot me an amused look. “That was supremely unpleasant. Well done.”

I laughed, standing shakily and walking over to offer him a hand, pulling him to his feet. “What can I say, I don’t do anything the easy way.” He joined me in my laughter and clapped a hand on my shoulder, leading me further into the village to discuss the alliance. I had to admit, that could have gone much worse.