[The Twining] 4. The Bound Beast

^ The scaled vulpine beast in the glow of the golden water. Isen only comes up to its ankle.

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Over the past few days, Isen had grown increasingly adept at perceiving the world with his left eye. Now he could see fifteen or so feet ahead before the mist became too indistinct. It was enough to make him realize how fortunate he was to ride on the scaled beast. The number of monsters swelled the deeper they went.

The beast had barely spoken since Isen refused to partake of the rodent. Whenever they stopped, it first cleared a circle with its body, then cycled the mist. Isen had the sense it used cultivation as an excuse to keep busy, but he didn’t mind. It had deceived him—he couldn’t trust its words or actions.

He did still believe its main motivation—escape. It needed him because of his sixth sense, and it needed him alive. And according to the beast, the only way to stay alive was to advance faster than the onset of starvation… or to eat monsters.

Back when it had presented the rodent, he had misled the beast just as it had misled to him.

When he’d cut into the rodent, he’d felt a profound sense of danger in his gut. He’d initially been confused—the rodent had been dead, unable to cause physical harm. So he’d cut it open wider, digging in the blade.

He’d finally understood when the scaled beast told him to drink its blood. The sense of danger had heightened at the words, so potent it had overwhelmed the sickening smell of the monster’s meat.

Growing up, he’d heard stories of corruption. It was impossible not to in a settlement like Goldbounty that revolved around combatting the Twining’s tears. The monsters from the Twining would periodically escape and make more of their own kind. That’s why they needed to be put down immediately, before their havoc spread.

Isen had never heard of monsters corrupting humans before. He knew that injuring people didn’t do it—if that were true, the soldiers would have greater churn, the threat of the Twining’s monsters far more dangerous.

But what if a human willingly imbibed the blood of monsters, or ate their flesh? Maybe the first time, he would be sustained, unchanged. But what of the next time, or the time after that?

It was the only other possibility he could think of. He might be wrong, but suffice to say—drinking the blood of monsters wasn’t a viable option.

Eyes closed, he clung to the back of the scaled beast and cycled the mist. He found it easier to do so while the beast cut through the darkness, its passage stirring up the ambient energy for him to inhale. He wasn’t actively trying to guide the beast, but his subconscious movements were sufficient for it to pick which way to go.

It’s like I’m a human dowsing rod.

So far, they hadn’t reached anywhere particularly notable. Just dark tunnels and the occasional source of golden water. It was the only source of water Isen had seen, so he’d resigned himself to filling his waterskin with it. Interestingly, when removed from the source, it soon lost its golden glow, becoming indistinguishable from normal water.

He’d worried that drinking too much of the liquid would harm his body, but true to the beast’s earlier words, it had diminishing effects. Now it only temporarily strengthened him.

He’d considered giving his right eye the same treatment as the left but held off. He still didn’t fully understand what he’d done to his left eye. He could use it to perceive the mist, but what about anything else? What if the eye was otherwise blind?

Out on the surface, it would be obvious if the eye could see properly, but down here, where the only light source was the dim glow of the water… it was too hard to tell. The mist was heavy over everything, tinged by the gold light.

He couldn’t imagine losing his sight in both eyes, so he didn’t risk it. To survive in this place, one eye’s sacrifice was enough.

Suddenly, the scaled beast came to a halt. Isen opened his eyes, exhaling a breath of depleted mist. Ahead, he could just barely make out the form of a tall wooden door. It was the first crafted item he’d seen that appeared native to the depths. Did humans make this?

The scaled beast padded closer, then pressed a taloned hand to the wood. As it pushed, muscles rippling beneath Isen, the door groaned.

“Wait,” Isen cautioned, “don’t force it.”

The beast recoiled as though struck. “Do you recognize this door?”

Isen almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Of course not. But when you pushed on it, I felt sick. I think there might be something on the other side. Maybe a trap, maybe another monster. But if you force the door down, we’ll be at its mercy.”

The scaled beast crouched down and made a ramp with its tail, a sign that it wanted him to descend. Isen landed lightly on the floor, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. “Why aren’t there monsters here?”

The beast’s golden eyes revealed nothing of its thoughts. “Go see if you can discern the mechanism.”

Isen ran his hands along the grain of the wood, trailing on the thick iron studs that interrupted its smooth surface. The wood bore a patina of age that was soft and slightly gummy. He scraped a thin layer off with his knife, revealing a fresh layer of springy, bone-hard wood. Part of the hinges were rusted, but they seemed to be in good condition. Isen wondered when the door had last opened.

His hand ran over an impression in the wood. He paused, frowning. He didn’t see any impression with his left eye—the door appeared smooth. But as he moved his hand further, he felt out what seemed like a human handprint pressed into the door, right where a knob might be.

As he moved to place his hand on it, he felt an imminent sense of danger, warring with the promise of potent opportunity.

He stepped back. “Something important is behind this door. I think I can open it, but we should be prepared. There’s grave danger ahead.”

“Danger for you, perhaps,” the beast said.

“Danger for you, too,” he insisted.

The beast’s golden eyes narrowed. “Very well. Give me an hour to cycle. When I’m at full strength, we’ll proceed.”

Isen joined it. The mist was thick here, barely drawn upon, eager to enter their bodies. By cycling, Isen had slowed down the onset of hunger, but after eating his last piece of jerky the day before, he’d felt his strength start to wane. After cycling the ambient energy outside the door, however, he felt rejuvenated, his hunger temporarily forgotten.

In the end, the scaled beast only needed forty minutes before it was ready. It crouched close to the door, its tail poised by Isen, prepared to yank him away if needed.

Steeling himself, Isen pressed his hand into the impression. His hand fit pretty well. He considered the possibility that the door’s creator was a woman as it cracked open with a thwik.

The duo waited for a reaction from beyond the threshold, but none came. Swallowing, Isen pushed lightly on the wood. The door swung forward a few degrees, revealing an opening large enough for a thin human to squeeze through.

Giving the scaled beast a knowing look, he poked his head through. Seeing nothing—the room was completely devoid of ambient energy—he stepped through the threshold and snuck forward.

Mist spilled into the room from behind him, dying the dark air like pale ink. Isen held his breath as it flew deeper into the room, coiling around a mound of darkness at the chamber’s center.

A monster, one larger than his guardian—and it seemed to be sleeping.

Isen retreated back and nearly stumbled on the vulpine beast’s snout. One of its golden eyes peered out of the doorway at the shadowy mound. The beast backed away, allowing Isen to return. He pulled the door closed by hooking it with his foot.

“Can you defeat whatever that is?”

“If it doesn’t wake up. But I’ll need to move quickly.”

“Why?”

“Without ambient energy, it should have died. That it hasn’t means that it’s probably been hibernating.”

“Why didn’t it just leave?”

“Care to guess?”

Isen sighed. “Because it couldn’t. It was bound to that room—to guard whatever opportunity led us here. And now that I cracked open the door and let in the mist… It’ll wake up.”

“I can try to kill it, or we can leave,” the scaled beast said. “You should decide.”

The sense of danger hadn’t grown worse than before they’d opened the door. “Kill it—quickly.”

The beast swished its tail in agreement. Isen pushed the door fully open. The mist rushed through along with the vulpine monster crouching low to the floor to fit. It padded silently toward the slumbering beast.

Isen crept behind, keeping to the chamber’s periphery. It was all smooth walls—nothing stuck out. Nothing seemed valuable.

His guardian monster opened its jaws wide and balanced on its hind legs and tail, two sets of talons splayed toward the sleeping monster’s bulk. Even on its hind legs, it only just stood tall enough to arch over the enemy’s supine form. It was poised to strike, so why didn’t it?

The sleeping monster shifted. Realizing its opportunity was disappearing, the vulpine beast descended, biting and slashing at the dark mass.

An earth-shaking roar sounded out as the slumbering monster woke up, its throat bleeding copiously. It swiped at the vulpine beast with a bear-like paw, eliciting a ferocious snarl in response as the intruder tore savagely at its flesh.

The ursine monster shook its body and stood on all fours. The shaggy fur covering its form wriggled and latched onto the scaled beast like leeches, their heads rotating and tearing away chunks of flesh.

Isen couldn’t breathe. This monster was the second largest he had ever seen after the tall monster that had widened the tear on the Twining. It was thick, muscled, with a vicious defense in the flesh-eating worms that acted as its fur.

If the bear monster so much as sneezed, Isen knew he’d be done for, and if nothing changed, he knew his beast ally would fall. He could retreat, but if he did, death was an inevitability. And he knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that there was opportunity here. He could taste it, more now than ever. He needed it.

Isen knew he was weak. He knew that even soldiers in full kit couldn’t stand one-on-one against wild bears. They had skulls that could stop a sword. He’d heard that even a spear through the eye wouldn’t put a bear down.

This monster was far worse than a wild bear. The idea that he might be able to kill it was ridiculous. But his gut told him it was possible, and he believed in himself.

It’s large and powerful, but starved of energy, having only just woken up. It can be defeated. He took in a deep breath. All dragons have a reverse scale.

A rational mind would see the bear covered in flesh-seeking, writhing worms and run away. Instead, Isen ran toward the two entangled monsters. The mist twisted and undulated around them, though favored the bear beast, surging into its roaring mouth. Isen jumped onto his scaled guardian, climbing it with practiced motions. Several flesh-eating vines leapt at him as he ran up the scaled monster’s back. He dodged most of them but lost a chunk of flesh on his thigh as one bit through his clothes. He gritted his teeth and leapt over the vulpine’s shoulder, landing on the bear beast’s back. Its parasitic fur lashed at him, tearing away chunks of flesh.

It was agonizing. On instinct, Isen cycled the mist. It quickened his mind and took his attention off the pain. Half blinded by the pain and the writhing worms that rushed him, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of worms as though they were vines on a tree. He then kicked off the bear’s back, swinging in an arc toward its chin.

Just then, the vulpine beast’s body snapped, crushed by the enemy’s mighty arms which wrapped around its torso in a hug. Desperate, the guardian lashed at the bear’s neck with its tail, exacerbating the jagged wound. The bear ducked its head down to cover the wound, growing in protest.

Isen swung straight into its mouth. He landed on its fleshy tongue and the bear gagged, launching him toward the back of its throat as though it meant to swallow him.

His left arm was a mangled mess of flesh from where he’d held onto the worms. He could even see part of the bone in his wrist. His other hand wasn’t unscathed, but it was whole enough that he slid the knife from the scabbard with a steady grip. With a desperate cry, he sank the knife into the back of the monster’s throat and held on.

Before entering the depths, drinking the golden water, and cultivating, he might’ve lasted a few seconds. Now, while he felt immense pain from his injuries, holding onto the knife wasn’t taxing. After dangling for a few seconds, he gathered enough strength to pull himself up by the handle before plunging down, leveraging his body to tear the dagger down the bear’s throat.

He repeated the motion and the dagger tore a several-foot gash. Behind it was white bone—impenetrable with his strength.

Is this really all I can do? he wondered, feeling oddly distant from his body.

His eyes hardened. No.

He took out the knife and fell downward before plunging the weapon back in. Further down its throat, the horrible gash was impossible to miss. He could see the outside chamber through the gaping hole. He had no idea how the monster was alive with such a serious injury.

His breathing ragged, his heart pumping, he kicked off the other side of the throat and pulled the knife free, launching himself at the jagged wound. His instincts guided him to place the knife in just the right place so that when he pulled down, the flesh parted like paper, its neck collapsing.

The bear let out a mangled wheeze as it fell onto its side. Isen held on as the tumble battered him against the bloody neck. It was impossible to completely avoid the liquid as it gushed out, coating every inch of the neck. As it entered Isen’s mouth, he barely registered that it tasted sweet, like honey—a far cry from the ashy taste of the rodent monster’s blood.

All he could do was hang on, his injured body awash in the sweet rain as the bear entered the final stage of its battle against the scaled beast.