Volera and the Crystal of Beasts
Fantasy ·This fantasy story is inspired by the prompts for Inktober 2021. Can you guess from the prompts what will happen?
Volera and the Crystal of Beasts
After years of chasing it down, Volera finally found the Crystal of Beasts. She held it up with one of her head tendrils and cleared it of dirt with another. The crystal reflected her tired eyes on its sparkling surface. Volera saw in that reflection the heavy toll of her mission: since she was a young girl, the crystal’s song had drawn her to it and she had sacrificed so much in her search for it. Finally that song echoed and then died. But her true mission had just begun.
Volera tracked down the last of the Great Beasts. Rumors of thunderous cawing carried her from tavern to tavern, from town to town. She was walking the docks of New Porthaven seeking her next clue when she spotted a merchant selling a giant black feather. Only one docked vessel carried a large enough container for a Great Beast and it had the insignia of the Hunters Association. Volera headed to the open market. Her armor had been her only companion on this journey and yet she traded it without hesitation. In exchange, she received a wetsuit, a tank of oxygen and a sea lantern. A sailor sounded the call for departure. Volera plunged into the dark waters.
The black of night hid Volera’s approach towards the vessel. She entered through a vent and waited for the guard change to slither through the halls towards the upper deck. The last of the Great Beasts, as expected, was in an unguarded cage for none could withstand its oppressive aura and piercing glare. Volera took the Crystal out of her wetsuit pocket and broke it into two uneven pieces. She tied the smaller one with a delicate knot and hung the crystal around her neck. The other piece was meant for the Great Beast if it found her suitable. Lowering her gaze, Volera took a step forward and slipped through the bars of the giant cage.
The giant raven held her trembling gaze. Looking away was not an option. After a moment, the raven opened his beak and she placed inside the bigger piece of the Crystal. He swallowed. Instantly, the weight of his pains became her own and pulled her down to the cage floor. She strained to surface from the wave of desperation. Volera was now spirit-bonded to Corvux the Great Raven, last of the Great Beasts, and witness to the end of his kind. But Corvux felt her emotions too: her determination to bring back the Great Beasts to this world.
Like vines intertwining, they strengthened each other’s resolve… for revenge? No, for survival.
Volera unlocked the cage door and climbed onto Corvux’s back, her bare hands digging into his duvet. He fanned out his wings revealing the magical feathers hiding behind his primary plumage. Corvux leaped into his new found freedom.
Volera and Corvux traveled by night and rested in the thick canopy of uninhabited islands by day. She was anxious to return to the last untouched forest of Olleriam where the Corvux could undergo his transformation in hiding. As she admired the glow of the first moon rise, she hoped that no one else was watching the sky.
It was a perfect night for Professor Borodros’s moonlit expedition. He had prepared his usual brew of spiced tea to keep him awake. A herd of werewalruses were known to lounge on the shore below him on full moons. As he waited for them to appear, Borodros searched the sky with his telescope. In the light of the first rising moon, he spotted a Great Ravem, a sight he hadn’t seen in decades. He increased the pressure in his air balloon to get a better view. A rider was comfortably straddling the raven’s back. Professor Borodros knew all too well what that meant.
Professor Borodros knew his duty was to send word of the sighting to the town nearby. He would just have to hope that whoever received his message would alert the Department of Beastly Studies. From a box of magical sour candy, Professor Borodros picked the mail carrier bubblegum. He winced in anticipation of its lemony acidic taste. Luckily he still had some tea to wash down the sourness of the carrier candy. He began the long process of masticating the candy to its full form.
Professor Borodros prepared his letter on a tiny scroll and tucked inside his inner cheek. He put the pre-chewed candy back in his mouth and blew a bubble bigger than his head. With practiced motions of his tongue, he placed the tiny scroll in the bubble and sealed it with his closing lips. The scroll stuck to the inner wall of the bubble as it floated away from him over the rooftops of the sleeping town. Finally, he was able to enjoy his tea knowing he had done his duty.
In the creeping shadows of a back alley, a hunter cleaned red spatter off his gear. From his helmet protruded a long sharp antenna as is traditional for beast hunters. Like a beacon, it attracted the drifting bubble. They collided.
“Tick!”
The high pitched explosion interrupted the hunter’s routine. Now freed, the scroll landed beside his boots. In motions that can only come from years of meticulous practice, he put his gear back in order: carving knife, slaying knife, traps, bait, sour candy harpoons, and enchanted compass. Only then did he pick up and read the scroll.
The hunter unfurled and read the scroll. It described a woman riding a Great Raven and argued that the sighting was a sign the Great Beasts would reawaken. The hunter had heard of the prophecy: if a bonding occurred between a human and a Great Beast then on the next new moon the cycle would begin again and a new Great Beast would sprout from the Earth.
“An unnatural and wicked bonding” murmurs the hunter.
The brush skills of the illustrations can only be that of a scholar and the tone of the inscriptions are factual and objective. But the hunter knows better: if the bonding blossoms, a dark era will twist the world on itself as viciously and absurdly as a snake biting its tail. The glory of acquiring such a prestigious trophy as a Great Beast motivates him. The hunter whispers to his enchanted compass, turns in the direction of the quivering needle and heads towards his next prey.
Finally, Corvux and Volera arrive in the untouched forest of Olleriam. They sigh a breath of relief. Here the tall trees and thick ferns will hide them from the non-believers. The pair lay in the fuzzy softness of the grass and gather their energy before the new moon.
After days of bushwalking, the Hunter spots them on where the thick forest opens to a grassy shore. The rider is lazing in the grass and the Raven is dozing by her side. Already, the Hunter dreams of hats and trinkets crafted from those dark feathers. He chews on a sour candy harpoon. Silently, he gnaws the weapon into shape starting with the sharp tip. The pair remain as still as a painting. Could this hunt be that easy?
Mid throw, a flash of light confuses the Hunter but he releases the harpoon towards where he last saw the Raven’s chest. A kaleidoscope of feathers and eyes swirl around the weapon’s shaft.
“It was an illusion!”, he exclaims.
Darkness flickers and obscures the world around him. He hears a great swoosh and is sprayed with dirt and uprooted plants. Wiping his visor clean, he sees the rider sprawled in red soaked grass. The wound is leaking fast. He wastes no time searching for the Raven. It has escaped extinction for another day.
Before he can even reach her, the Hunter hears a shriek. He looks up to mirrored wings clouding the sky and an enormous white raindrop falling towards him. But that is no rain.
“Splat!”
Thick globs of excrement cover his visor, helmet, compass, boots, everything. He eyes the fleeing bird.
“Coward!” mutters the Hunter.
He rushes to the rider’s side, a pack of sour candy bandages already out of his pocket.
Though it is taboo to touch another’s tendrils, the Hunter must clear hers away to look at the wound. He hesitates. The intimacy of the touch scares him. But now is not about him. As he extends his arm, one of her tendrils squirms towards his hand. They connect.
A spark ignites inside the crystal around Volera’s neck and the bright light travels from her necklace up her cheek then down the tendril wrapped around his arm. He anticipates a shock but instead is flooded by waves of emotions. Her hope and her courage swell inside him. He understands now: the importance of her mission and her sacrifice for the Great Beast.
“I will save you” whispers the Hunter.
After soaking all his bandages to stop the bleeding, the Hunter grunts in exasperation. He finally takes the time to wipe away the Great Raven’s projectile poop. That’s when he notices the change on his arms: the crisp knotted scars have become smooth pink flesh.
“The Beast was not mocking me but providing for you”, he says aloud.
The Hunter gathers as much guano as he can to patch the hole in her back. He lies down next to Volera, exhausted, and patiently waits for her to wake. He has so much to tell her.
As the first stars appear, Volera rises to a snoring Hunter, his arms protectively around her. On this night of new moons, she should have been fulfilling her destiny. Corvux was supposed to absorb her spirit and together they would have saved the Great Beasts.
“Where I have failed, perhaps another will succeed”, Volera whispers as she places the dull crystal in a bottle for the sea to take away.
On the shores of an ash colored desert, Corvux the Great Raven consumes the piece of crystal he had swallowed almost a month ago. The power of the Crystal of Beasts molds his flesh and stretches his spine. His beak thins into a forked tongue and his wings melt into a long tail. From a pile of feathers, Corvux emerges in a new form that slithers between the few cacti and bushes that dot this barren land. Hidden he will remain until another as brave as Volera risks everything to save his kind. For he remains the last of the Great Beasts.
The End.