Wraithwood Botanist

Chapter 27 - My Grim and Twisted Fairy Tale

I peeked out of the bushes and saw a cave at the bottom of a hill, swarming with black cat-sized creatures crawling over each other. Reading about shalk dens was one thing—seeing it was another. It was like a cockroach den, and alerting one would send them all flying at us.

I swallowed hard, gripping the aphrodisiac bottle.

Kline tugged at my pants to calm me, face as calm as a Hindu cow.

I looked at him in disbelief.

Cats really fear no one.

I took a final deep breath and began chanting the water spell. A water ball developed an inch above the ground—and I let it crash down the hill. It created a stream that caused all the shalks to turn to us—and it only got more aggressive when I made a larger water sphere that sent a stream falling on them. They immediately prepared to swarm—

—until I opened the aphrodisiac bottle. I had filled it with all their treasured delicacies, so when they smelled it, they began sniffing around and moving toward the source.

Hurry... I silently told myself, creating another water sphere. Trying my best to control the spell, I poured all the aphrodisiac into the hovering water sphere—which shockingly worked—and then let it drop, adding to the stream.

That sealed the deal. The shalks flew out of the cave in roiling waves, moving toward the water. It was working better than expected—but that meant they were running toward the source.

Run! I silently yelled to Kline with my eyes. Then I turned and booked it. Kline rushed after me, using Wraithaura, making the sound of my heavy steps and the snapping of bushes disappear. It was freakish and confusing, but I didn’t care. My legs were heavy with adrenaline, lead-like yet pumping fast, matching the galloping of my heart.

I weaved in and out of poisonous plants for about five minutes until I made the mistake. I jumped over a purple-highlighted plant and landed on a golden, edible plant with my unbooted foot—thinking it was safe. It wasn’t. It was a bramble with berries, and it shot thorns into my foot.

Son of a bitch! I silently screamed as I face-planted. I tried to get up, but the pain got worse, warning me that running would—usually—permanently damage my foot.

I ripped off my sock, hoping the thorns would come out, but it barely got half out.

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!

I pulled out the balm, taking a swipe with my index. Dozens of shalks were coming into view, searching blindly, trying to smell and hear us—but failing. The jostle root and Wraithaura were powerful—but one patrolling shalk would tell them all where we were.

I rubbed the ointment on my foot as blood rained down, and the thorns started popping out.

Suddenly, Kline panicked, and ten shalks flew out of the brush a moment later. He intercepted them, blinking out of existence and then appearing behind them, using Phantom Claws to rip through two and Sharp Bite on a third.

Almost... I thought, watching the last thorn pop out. But it was too slow. A shalk flew out at me, and I thought I was over—but an invisible force smashed into it, sending it flying past me. The save was lucky, but it slammed into a tree, alerting the others.

I got up and started running, listening to the shalks releasing battle cries like war-painted Apaches, fighting over horseback in the Texas skyline.

They were fast—but Kline was faster. I looked back just in time to see Kline ripping through them like a blender, leaving explosions of blood that seemed to suspend before crashing down. They tried to swarm him, but he kept blinking backward, moving toward me as he kept out of reach—releasing Phantom Claws over and over again.

I felt like it would never end, but before I knew it, the cries disappeared, and the sound of crashing wood ceased—and I kept running. By the time I finally stopped, it was dead silent.

I gripped my knees and heaved for breath, holding myself up on a rock and peeking out. There was nothing there, but I knew what awaited me on the return journey.

Kline lay next to me, grooming the blood off his fur.

"Come on," I said, pulling the maralune syrup out to replenish Kine’s mana. He turned away as if to say, Didn’t you just see me? I don’t need a handicap! I rolled my eyes at his bravado. "I’m not dyin’ over you being a badass. Got it?"

He chuffed and walked over to me—but I still had to pry open his mouth. It was ridiculous.

After feeding him the syrup, I ate some jerky. Kline declined, probably because he was full of shalks.

Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more—waiting until I was certain that the shalks had slowed their panic and started their love fest.

Is he... eating them?

I didn’t know what to think, but he kept rushing, and I truly understood.

He was using the soul meat to replenish his strength and the cleansing elixir to feed his magic. He had neither during his last rampage, but we had leveled up. We were getting stronger, and we now had alchemy! It made my heart flutter with excitement.

Then I snapped back into focus when a shalk jumped at me. I was pissed that it broke my excitement, so I slapped it, sending it flying into a tree. Another shot at me, but I punted it. Perhaps it was hubris, but I was starting to feel powerful.

Once I get a core, I’m going to massacre you! I silently declared.

We fought on for another five minutes. Only then, once there was a pile of corpses, did Kline start showing signs of mana deprivation. Thankfully, it was almost over.

"Kline!" I said, pouring maralune syrup onto my finger. He warp-stepped into my shadow and licked it off my finger before rushing back as if it never happened.

It was fascinating.

Ten more minutes passed before they stopped following us. Kline ate more maralune syrup without protest, and I ate some jerky. Then we both drank water and turned to the cave.

"Let’s wait a bit," I said. "Let ’em groom the poison off their loved ones."

Kline looked at me as if I had lost my mind—and I had. In two months, I’d be feral—but that’s a worry for the living.

Kline nodded and sauntered off, searching for unpoisoned shalks to eat while I stewed about how much of a superpower eating on the fly was. There’s got to be cooking spells to speed this up... I thought. There were hundreds of pounds of raw power lining the ground, and humans couldn’t chow down.

Or wouldn’t. I might turn feral—but I wouldn’t do it willingly.

I cupped my face in my hands and groaned.

Kline eventually returned, and I checked my foot and gear. Then I stood and looked down at him.

"You ready?" I asked.

He nodded.

I nodded back. "Then let’s do this."

4.

Elana watched Mira return for the last time—heart galloping in her chest. Mira’s survival was a novelty—a theoretical possibility that was useful for thought experiments.

If she did survive, I could obtain materials to surpass Brindle. If she did, I could sell... If she did....

There was a lot of what ifs—but it was a dream. No one really believed she would survive—

—until recently.

The aphrodisiacs worked, and according to Haspel, the poison was more than enough to kill the creatures. Now that Kline had killed half the shalks by himself, finishing the quest was a possibility—and Elana could actually live out her greatest ambitions. She was invested; if Mira survived the Trial of Worth, she’d lavish Mira with advice, lessons, and instructions on how to fix that hideously asymmetrical, genetically impure mortal face of hers.

5.

My gas mask fogged with steamy breaths as I returned to the cave. I’m not sure what I thought I’d see there—but it was close to what I imagined.

There were a lot of dead shalks—in the hundreds. Another set was sluggishly moving south toward a nearby river, suffering severe dehydration. The rest were stumbling around like stereotypical fairy tale drunkards, crashing into each other like tavern walls. I didn’t know if those were still dangerous—but I didn’t want to find out.

If you didn’t catch it when it was mentioned, if I alerted the shalks, they would destroy the flower, taking the spores and moving to another cave—where they’d kill themselves to act as fertilizer for the new plant. That ridiculously powerful cultish phenomenon was unavoidable, and I expected to have failed already. The only reason I was still going was because I hadn’t gotten a notification if I failed yet. Still, that didn’t mean that I still couldn’t.

My only hope was that the orgy and commotion brought all the shalks out to party or swarm us—but I wouldn’t count on it.

Kline followed behind me as I walked up to the cave. It was time to grab the flower and get the fuck out.