Illiana stalked through the village, her starry body shifting and bending to duck out of either someone’s vision or through a crack in a wall. Her heat burned stronger every minute closer to star rise. Yet something new clawed at her innards.
A hunger.
It hadn’t been sated by a deer either. The meat was filling and gave her energy, but it didn’t answer this need. Confused by this, she’d been shifting through the hazy memories of her ancient self when she’d picked up the cook stone and bitten into it.
It tasted of rock and heat. Surprised, she’d dropped it, and the stone clattered away. When she retrieved it, she found it no longer functioned. The enchantment within it was gone.
She’d eaten it.
Disturbed, she concentrated and checked her own store of mana, both her own and the seething power that manifested in the stars of her fur. It was a vast ocean compared to what human Illiana had been limited to, but there was a niggling certainty that the levels were far lower than they should be.
She remembered stalking through rich jungles teeming with life. Lounging in the sun on rocks that floated naturally. And finally, the forest of stars.
Territories. Illiana’s scholarly half supplied.
Home. The Saber countered as she remembered the weight of mates lounging against her, grooming her cubs and the triumph of sending a rival packing.
But who were they? Illiana pushed at the memories. She could feel the outlines of the individual, yet the space where the names, faces or scent just refused to resolve. An outline of a long life but no individuals, none of the stories that marked Illiana, the human’s path through time.
She growled at herself, opening her eyes in the dim hut she hid in. She’d lost concentration on her star self.
Think. She told herself. Glitch Sabers weren’t known for eating magic. No, her former territories flickered through her mind. They live in places of high magic. They’d get magic from their prey, from the air. Here..
Illiana looked at her surroundings with her mage sight and saw very little magic. Other than warm glow in the direction of the church to Harvestia, the village contained very little magic.
A barren wasteland. Illiana shivered as wrongness crawled up her spine. No place to place to raise cubs. They’d be sickly and have so few stars that summoning a starself would be a major effort. No land should be so devoid of magic.
Cinder and her couldn’t create a Den here. Maybe going to Hearthold was a misguided idea. Even if it did erase the memory of Archimage Ferrious. A petty revenge wasn’t worth sick cubs.
But… Hearthold wasn’t devoid of magic. The opposite, the Royal Academy of magic sat on its hill. Their studies were assisted by a nest of ley lines beneath the city. That shouldn’t effect the surrounding area. Unless… The steward needed the eye to repair the school’s seal. What did it seal? So far as she knew, there wasn’t a powerful demon or anything trapped beneath the city. The steward had told Barnaby that the seal was required for the school’s continued existence. That if it broke, the school would be leveled to its foundation.
Illiana set the pads of her hands against the bare earth of the hut’s floor and pushed her perceptions. The land fought her, objecting to her starry mana, but it soon yielded to the overwhelming amount of power Illiana wielded.
There, a ley line lay beneath the village and continued out toward the Archmagus’ tomb. A withered husk with the barest trickle of mana within it.
Ley lines were natural rivers of magic. Wizards often siphoned it for research and the creation of enchantments. It was like dipping a bucket into a river, but at Hearthold, they’d somehow sealed the entire ley line to the university. You didn’t have to be a geomancer to know that was a really bad idea. Even humans need some amount of magic to survive.
Without the lay line then… That golden glow. Harvestia would be the only source of magic in this village. Without her blessing and investiture of mana then the crops would start failing. It be a subtle thing, a very slow effect but misfortune would befall anyone who didn’t get regular blessings. The farms near the forest looked okay, but they were clearly actively pushing into the treeline. Seeking more fertile land? The mountain would have its own leylines. The Archmagus’ Tomb had to be close to one in order for the undead it contained to exist this long without consuming the living.
What Illiana had thought to be an instinct crystalized into a reason. The mountain’s ley lines were too deep to create a good territory above ground. Hearthold’s Academy had choked off the mana to the entire region. Only by destroying it and then preventing the humans from rebuilding it could there be enough magic for a healthy territory, suitable for raising a litter.
Now, that nonsensical plan made sense. Illiana needed to get close enough to the seal to accelerate its decay. She’d use the energy released to restore her power then she and Cinder would have a mating maelstrom that even the humans would remember for ages.
All she had to do was make sure that Cinder stayed human enough that they let her and Barnaby into the academy. Maintaining her own hands would be very helpful too. She might be able to cast human spells with her tentacles, but she had no time to practice.
In the meantime, she wondered if Harvestia would mind if she nibbled a bit at whatever was radiating that golden magic.
Illiana sent her starself out again, its shimmery blue outline was difficult to see in the bright summer sun, so it could walk through the backyards of the village homes with ease. On reaching the tavern, the Blind Pig, she began to feel a strain, one that quickly grew unbearable when she walked past its walls. She turned back as her stars began to wobble.
“Guess thats my limit.” She murmured to herself as she turned back. After stepping into a shadow, she looked over the available buildings. The three houses between her current hiding place and the tavern had smoke rising from their chimneys. Probably would object to a large saber woman stopping by for tea.
Maybe in the inn itself? That seemed rather risky. Still, it was either that or hiding in the field behind the town. The young wheat wasn’t that tall yet. As she pondered, she approached the back of the inn momentary flattening her entire starself into a softly glowing pancake to avoid the eyes of a rider who galloped around from the front of the building. He was riding Molly! Her mare! The chestnut colored horse was drenched in sweat and shook herself in irritation as she slowed to first a trott and then to a stop. The man, youth really, patted her shoulder and swung off with a practiced ease.
Illiana bared her teeth from her hiding place. Why was he riding her horse?
“Good girl. Real pretty girl. Lemme get ya that carrot.” He said, looping the reins to a trough in front of the stable. He turned to walk inside but a man who resembled a wall stepped out of the door.
“Where’s the rest of ya? You were supposed to exercise them, not spend the entire day tromping around the country!” The big man huffed and cross his arm.
The young rider took a step back. “Uh, Wilson and Fenny decided to stay at the farm. His pa wants to see if the charger’s interested in studding up his big mare. Whas the big deal? Suppose to boardem for a week right?”
“Oh Harvestia’s scythe! Are looking to get me run through like your ma?” The big man slapped his forehead.
“They came back?” The young man flinched.
“Yeah they did bout 20 minutes ago. One of them’s a devil blood who looked like she wanted to ram her horns into my nose. The other’s a knight of carnage Karl. Damn lucky Mother Lorn was holding court otherwise he might have stuck my head from my shoulders for horse thievery. So you better turn yous ass around, saddle up blackie and get those horses back before sundown. Else Hettie’s inheriting the inn and after that prank last week my copper is she puts you out on your ass.”
“You’re given Hettie the inn?” The youth squawked.
“If I die tonight you betcha. Now get those boots a movin.”
“Yes pa!” The innkeep’s son spun on one foot and ran into the stable.
In less than a minute, he rode a lean black stallion out of the stalls and spurred it to a gallop. The innkeep cursed under his breath and then took Illiana’s mare into the stable.
Illiana snickered at the family drama. Although the innkeeper’s assessment of the situation probably wasn’t far off. Cinder might not murder somebody over a horse but Barnaby? He was very fond of his horse and justice was not kind to horse thieves anywhere in the empire.
Once the innkeeper grumbled his way back inside, Illiana slipped into the stable. Molly, snorted and stamped a warning as she approached.
<Fzzzt> Illiana glitched into her flesh self and let her starself dissipate.
The horse whickered warily as Illiana offered her hand to sniff. Molly lips peeled away from her teeth and she stepped back as far as the stall would allow. Illiana sighed, then studied the thicker fingers of her hand. “Dammit I need to stop doing that.”
Molly neighed in distress.
“Okay girl, I’m gonna hide out here for just a bit but maybe I can convince Cinder to bring us that forgotten carrot.” Illiana said, creating a starself as she continued to whisper sweetly to the horse.
As Illiana’s starself approached the inn, conversations burbled out of the building, her ears strained for a familiar voice.
“Shiiiite.”
There’s Cinder! Illiana grinned and looked at the second story.
“No!” Cinder’s voice near squeaked from behind one of the closed windows. “Just fine. Dump all the hot water in and leave.”
Illiana reached her starry arm up towards the window and it extended into a column of stars, they filtered beneath the window and with a flicker of effort, Illiana saw into it. Cinder stood behind a cheap imperial-designed privacy screen. Peeked around it, watching the door close. One of her arms had grown into that of a full sized Glitch Saber’s, covered with fur that was a lovely soft shade of red.
“Oh Cinder…” Both Illianas shook their heads as her starself began to flow through the window.
“Sorry Molly, looks like Cinder’s in need of a bit of care.” Her flesh self told the cowering horse.