Insatiable Corruption: Tritan Evolution, Book II

They came to conquer, to see the great city of Tritan on her knees. Her people dressed in chains.

I watched it all burn from a seat of untouchable power. Safe in the many arms of the forest as my heart charred black and the darkness took root. My sacred calling to a dead Goddess rejected, I am sustained by the forest's ancient, sleepy strength. Fed by wild ki, the whispers are soothed.

The urge to savage the conquerors lays dormant, for not even he can touch me here, where my every whim is law.

But Captain Asher Rawlings is a resourceful man, and though it’s been years since he’s so much as set eyes upon my face, he hasn’t given up the hunt for a rare and dangerous thing.

He wants me.

And he’ll never stop.

Not until my knees are sullied and my skin is marked—and my limitless power belongs to him.

But no matter how many times I fall, or how much I lose, he refuses to see the truth of the monster he's unleashed... After all... he's given me a thirst for vengeance...

Slavers.

They passed beneath me, a group of two leading three. Hacking and slashing at the flora in their path, they dragged their wares through the snow, dressed in chain, rope, and little else. Heedless of the young and frail trying to keep pace. Their cargo was a rarity these days, but to see three at once, let alone the same group?

Something dark and sinister twisted in my gut, pleased the slavers were kind enough to make my job so easy. For of course, stealing their wares would be a blow to the Empire, or at the very least, to whichever pompous, festering Caledonian lord was wealthy enough to afford to keep three Tritans as pets.

As slaves.

The Caledonians really should have known better, after all this time. Any refugee who set foot on my territory didn’t remain a slave for long.

Concealed by shadows, I watched, lip curled, as the leader called a stop for the day.

“Fuckin’ impossible to make good time in this hellhole. I can hardly tell if it’s sundown or not.”

“Ah, but this is the Forest of Sorrows, isn’t it, Jasper? What else can be expected of a haunted wood?”

I grinned, baring teeth.

“Don’t joke about that, you fool!” Jasper snarled, raising the back of his hand. “You’ll bring the Menace down upon us, sure as hellfire.”

The fool laughed, unperturbed. “Those are fairy tales perpetrated by this lot.” He kicked one of the slaves in the ribs, making a length of silver hair shimmer and dance in the gloom. “Honestly. A vengeful spirit ferrying Tritans to safety? Bah! They’re trying to get in your head, mate. That’s all. We should just cut this whole wood down so they have no more little hidey holes to lurk in.”

Cut down the Forest of Sorrows? Over my bloated corpse.

“Don’t think I haven’t tried to cut it down a dozen times. It just grows back! This wood is cursed by the Menace, and I’ve seen it,” Jasper hissed, spraying the other with spittle as he dumped his pack on the ground. “Six and a half feet of muscle, ain’t nothing. The Menace”—Jasper flung his arms wide—“he carries a flaming battle ax longer than your arm. Killed my first crew years back, he did.”

“Oh? Then why’d he leave you alive?”

Jasper grinned and tugged a golden pendant free of his furs. “I have a wealthy benefactor and the divine favor of the serpent.”

“As long as I get my cut from this lot of runaways,” the fool said, “I don’t care how superstitious you are.”

“We have to be free of this place by midday tomorrow to make the auction in Liyas, otherwise we’re stuck with them until the middle of next month. Get a fire lit. You don’t deserve it,” he said, stooping too close to one of the downed Tritans—a child, “but you’ll need the strength. We’re pushing harder tomorrow.”

The youngest slave groaned, but remained silent. Captured and defeated.

Not for long. Not on my soil.

A thick, furred tail descended from the branch above, flicking before my nose. I glanced up with a smile, scratching the beautiful tan appendage with sharp, curved nails. A twitch, and it was gone, though the subtle rumble of a purr vibrated through the air. Coiled and ready for the strike, great, black claws sunk deep into the bark beneath her feet, Kas watched.

And I with her.

Waiting for the perfect moment.

Jasper scooped the top layer of snow off a fallen log, setting it in a pot to boil. “Coffee’s on. You’ll take first watch.”

If I were willing to risk flaunting my power, I could have drained their ki and strolled into camp with ease. But there was no finesse in doing things the easy way. No skill. Not anymore.

Of course, there was always the possibility that I went too far… That I took everything they had to give and couldn’t stop—

I turned my face away from the vulnerable and weak, feeding my dark compulsion to the Grandmother and through her mighty roots, the forest itself. 

No. There was something to be said for the simple things in life. To hunt with the skill and expertise of a mountain lion, to strike once, or not at all. Watching as the unsuspecting insects beneath us went about their business.

Unaware.

Neither of us moved until night fell, until Kas stretched her long, lithe body and moved forward on silent feet—my cue. I nodded, soothing her with my ki as I wound a length of twine about my fist and tucked a small bag of powder into the heart of my palm.

Red berries. Left to ripen on the vine for maximum potency. Poisonous to humans, as Ancaster had discovered all those many seasons ago. Capable of inducing debilitating vomiting and explosive diarrhea.

I grinned, stalking closer. Each footfall carefully planned, eyes and ki-sense locked on the villains below.

Coming to a stop above the fire pit, I covered my face with a hand-spun scarf to protect my lungs from the acidic white smoke that only came from burning green wood. Inexperienced Caledonian idiots—but the white cloud gave agreeable cover for my purpose, so I gave thanks.

In position, I sent Kas a pulse through the branches, inflaming her territorial fury as my ki rushed through her blood.

She yowled, the sound chilling, though I’d heard much worse from her over the seasons. 

“What in the bloody hell?” the fool gasped, slopping coffee down the front of his fur coat.

Kas yipped, dragging her mighty claws down the tree trunk, her glare reflecting bright, demonic green in the light of the flames.

The fool stood, moving on hesitant feet toward the edge of the clearing, a whip clutched in his hand.

Poor, sad little man, frightened by monsters in the dark. Grinning, I unwound the ball of twine, guiding the bag of powder to steep in the pot of camp coffee while Kas rumbled a low, threatening growl. Daring him to cross the threshold and enter the wood.

Stumbling back, the fool called for Jasper, seeking the perceived safety of the firelight, his attention fixed upon the demonic, bodiless eyes.

At my signal, Kas fell quiet, crouched in the shadows above as I reeled the red berries in, leaving behind nothing but a few innocuous drops of laced coffee as I went.

“J-Jasper! Wake up, mate! It’s the fuckin’ Menace!”

Clutching the likeness of the serpent with one hand, Jasper pulled his furs tighter. Face set and determined, though pale beneath his tan. “Get me a coffee, will you? It’s going to be a long night.”

I almost laughed at my dancing pets. Almost spoiled the fun, for there was nothing left to do but wait for morning.