“Wern Nian, a deputy head of the Red Gorgon cartel, required our help to get rid of his boss, offering us the take the place of the undead. This way, Wern becomes the boss, the cartel takes the guards off its back, and we get a big share of the profits.
“Everybody wins.” Zoreth finally received her meal and decided she would leave no tip for the poor service. Bytra’s stew was now barely lukewarm.
“It’s a good plan. Why don’t we make Wern arrange our meeting with his boss happen inside the Court? The treasure vault should make an excellent advance payment for our services.” Bytra asked.
“My thoughts exactly. The undead aren’t going to drop a bone with so much meat attached easily, so I have already planned to strike them first and wipe them out before they can strategize properly.” Zoreth said.
“One more question. Why are your plate and beer mug less filled than mine even though they cost the same?”
“Because you’re beautiful and I’m not.” Zoreth replied with a shrug. Her serving was actually generous, it was Bytra’s that was exaggerated.
Zoreth had now the same appearance as when she was still a human Awakened. She looked like a woman in her early thirties, about 1.6 meters (5’3″) tall, with black-shaded brown hair and youthful chestnut eyes that contrasted with the ancient wisdom of her gaze.
Her skin was naturally so pale that it almost looked sickly, and was full of too many freckles to be easy on the eye. She had sharp features, a squared jaw, and a nose a tad too long to be considered cute.
“No way! You’re gorgeous.” Those words made Bytra yearn to spill the blood of all members of the restaurant’s staff. Suddenly the torturing techniques stored in her memory didn’t seem so scary anymore.
“I wish. Unlike you, I was born a hybrid. My Dad never cared much for appearances when choosing a spouse, only for the versatility of their mind. My mother was a genius, not a stunner, and sadly I took many things from her.
“I remember that when I was little, I felt part of the family only in my Wyrmling form. Everyone else was so beautiful that it was upsetting, especially when I was a teen.” Xenagrosh sighed.
“What about your mother? Didn’t she help you?” Bytra asked.
“No, she was more concerned about her research than about me. Genius, remember? I was raised by my father and many siblings. I asked them the secret about Awakening many times, but they always refused to teach me, saying that I wasn’t ready, that I would just hurt myself.” Zoreth replied.
“In hindsight, they were right. Back then the only thing I could think about was body refining and becoming as beautiful as the rest of the family. If they taught me, I would’ve ended up bursting my mana core when I was too weak to become an Abomination and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“Long story short, after I finished my growth spurt and most effects of body refining were lost forever, I threw a huge temper tantrum and ran away from home. When I came of age, I discarded my draconic half out of spite for my family.
“I was so conceited that I swore to myself that I wouldn’t live a millennium with those looks, thinking that even death was better than such a fate. I spent years studying magic, learning to appreciate Dad’s many teachings about mana and world energy, until I self-Awakened a few days after my 31st birthday.
“You’d think that by then I was mature enough to take things slow, yet the moment I noticed that, even if to a lesser degree, body refining still worked, I lost it. I was back being an insecure teen and started to practice Accumulation like there was no tomorrow.
“I ignored the signs, the pain, everything just to be able to return to the fold and show my father I made it on my own. Then my core cracked, but my mastery of magic and willpower were so strong that instead of dying I was reborn into an Abomination.
“At that point, pride, anger, self-pity, everything was swallowed by the hunger. To add insult to injury, once I evolved into an Eldritch, I started to regain the same draconic power I had discarded.
“Now I look exactly like I did before my death and I’m too old to give a damn about what other people think.”
Zoreth had talked while eating while Bytra kept staring at her while her plate remained untouched.
“What about you? What’s your story and are you going to eat that?” Long distance flight always made Zoreth work an appetite.
“I don’t know. I…” Suddenly, Bytra’s head started to hurt and several images flashed in front of her eyes.
She remembered a gentle woman she called Master Menadion, a tower with a staircase drenched with blood, and then her hand clenched around Menadion’s Fury. Bytra tried to connect the dots, but it made her headache worse.
She felt so much rage, envy, and shame at the same time that she started to cry. Bytra recognized the early signs of a blood madness’ fit and panicked.
‘Gods, no. Please, I don’t want to ruin our mission before it even starts. In my frenzy, I might harm Zoreth, or even worse, I might draw Leegaain’s attention. I must…’
“Are you alright?” Zoreth snapped Bytra out of it by holding her hand. “Why are you crying? If you don’t want to share your stew, just say it. I’ll just order seconds.”
Bytra was shocked realizing that her fit had lasted barely a few seconds, yet to her, it felt like hours. Even though she was still unable to talk, she was grateful for Zoreth kindness in dropping the subject and pretending it was about the food.
“Two pretty ladies like you shouldn’t make each other cry. I’m sure that whatever is going on between you can be solved by good ale and a bit of company.” A handsome young man said while pointing at himself and his friend sitting at a nearby table.
He was about 1.75 meters (5’9″) tall, with short blond hair and grey eyes. He also had perfect, white teeth that he was showing off with a stunning smile.
“Thanks for the offer, but unless you’re a waiter and you can bring us seconds, we’re not interested.” Xenagrosh said with a polite but cold smile.
“Sometimes…” The young man choked on his words when a sudden click announced Xenagrosh’s ultimatum.
On her right hand, she wore a set of metal dragon claws Bytra had made for her, called Sky Piercer. The silvery glove had six purple magic crystals embedded on its surface, one for each finger and one in the middle of its backhand.
Her index, middle, and ring finger were pointed at him. Yet only the claws on her index and ring finger were extended to the length of a sword and touched either side of the youth’s neck.
“Read between the lines, pal.” Xenagrosh elongated the last claw as well, just enough to draw the man’s attention to her middle finger.
“I’m sorry I didn’t think…”
“Then don’t start now. I don’t want you getting a headache for doing something you’re not used to. Now scram.” Her icy glare made it clear that she wasn’t going to repeat herself a third time.
