The Drake of Craumont

C/W: Blood, extremely minor gore, PTSD flashbacks, implied past torture.

Tables crowd against the wall like fearful beasts, pressed against cold stone and carrying burdens of parchment and twisted metal. At the center… a chair. My heart, bloodied and bruised.

A ruined chair in a darkened room, with shredded straps and gouged arms. The legs are bolted to a pale patch in the stone, flecked with bits of dried crimson. A familiar belt dangles from the back, and I find my feet threatening to carry me away.

It cannot hold me. It cannot hold me, I can’t feel the wood under my nails or the leather constricting a too-flat, too-thin chest. My wrists can’t be bound and rubbed raw, scaleless and pink—

No, something inside me hisses. Breathe, Ivy.

I take a long, shuddering breath, tail flexing and claws tightening. The sound is deep and jittery, rumbling as it slips over the growl in my chest. Thoughts slip free of the mire, rising through choking murk that I'd hardly noticed until it threatened to drown me utterly. My tongue tastes the air, drinking in that aged copper tang and the familiar flavor of my own blood.

"Ssaid it already," I rasp, tail clacking along the floor, "But don't assk. Probably already figured it out."

And then, "Mother and Father would hate me for taking you here. Good."

Lizzie manages something that sounds a bit like a laugh, strangled as it is.

I run my tongue along sharpened teeth— sharp enough to split flesh from bone, perfect enough to send a clarifying shudder down my spine. Yes, I am better now. Stronger, shaped as I want to be, with more changes on the way.

I peer down at my feet, held still in human shape and bound in leather.

Once my soul is mended enough, I'll change that, I think. I'm not what they tried to make me, not anymore.

"Oh, Restoration. Guide and protect, bear witness and heal," Lena hisses out, like steam through cracked glass. "Ivy, no, they couldn't… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I won't ask."

She trails off, sound strangled, and I spare a glance over at her. Her eyes follow a thin trail of blood, leading from the chair to the back door— the door to the last room.

—It's time, child. The experiment…

Blood, dripping freely from torn fingernails. My boots thumping against cold stone, my legs lurching toward the next experiment. This time, I promised myself, would be the last.

Teeth, broad and sharp, and a hint of scales creeping across my back—

"Want me to burn it?" Verity cuts in, and the moment shatters. Steel backs her voice, a flicker of Paladin Greyfeather pushing through the odd bird I'd come to know. "Sure, it's probably enchanted, but a touch of divine magic will solve that."

"Burn it? Right here and now?" Lizzie counters, aghast. "Dear Paladin, show some patience! Cut it up and stack it so the fire burns hotter. We do need everything else in this room, you know."

"Ah," Lena says, "Oh. That's what we're… well, the metal parts can be reused, right? Turned into something useful. Or we could take everything else out first?"

"Likely brass or iron," Ruby adds, "Both can be melted and reused. Ideally into something cathartic for Ivy. I am aware of multiple blacksmiths that would suffice."

A laugh tears itself free of my throat before I can even properly feel it, only the raw flesh and alarm it leaves behind. Agony sloughs free of my frame in waves, and beside me, I can see the girls relaxing somewhat. Verity's expression moves from a false smile to something far more real, just as bright as ever. Lena's eyes glitter in the light, and I can't help but watch for a long moment.

"No, no," I manage, waving off a collection of concerned glances. My thoughts follow, racing to catch up to my heart. "That's not... bah. That's what I needed to hear, but we need to get the investigation over with."

One of Lena's ears flops down, with the other swiveling just slightly to focus on me. "You're sure? You could…"

She trails off, frowning. "Ah, nevermind."

"Never mind that," I agree, stepping into the room properly. My tail snakes along behind me, its sinuous length pressed into the cold floor. And yet, I don't feel cold at all. The Manor hangs on my shoulders, warm like a crackling fire, whispering like curtains in the breeze. "Don't touch anything sharp, leave the chair alone, and if you see any black glass in here, probably don't touch that either."

"Easy enough, dear. Perhaps we'll find the secrets of our evasive former priest, hm?" Lizzie hums, stepping in after me. Her clawed hand grasps my arm, squeezing it gently before she moves to the side. "Do you know how infuriating it was for that cretin to escape me? I am his better, there should have been no chance at all."

And then, more quietly, "I'm quite sorry for that still, you know."

I huff, not quite managing a second laugh over a spike of frustration. "Forgiven. He's damned good at running away, I'll give him that."

"Now if we just knew what he wanted," Verity trills, walking in with Lena and Ruby in tow, "Didn't he just promise you'd understand, Ivy? Pretty sure that's how you told it. Bleh, those sorts are the worst."

I claim one particularly messy table for myself, one covered in irritatingly familiar needles and clamps. Looping fears play out somewhere in my head, but now that I've gotten my feelings under control, they barely breach the surface of my thoughts. My chest rumbles, spilling out as a growl between hissed words. "He thinksss he knowsss better. He doessn't. Let's get on with it."

The last part slips out easily, almost without thought, because Goddess I'd really rather not be in this room. Thankfully, everyone else seems to agree, sifting through the unorganized mess my parents had left behind. Why could they never keep this room in order? It hadn't been tidy since I was ten, at least.

"Another map!" Lena calls, her voice punctuated with a clang clang whud of metal and wood against the stone floor.

I turn to look at her, eyes sweeping over her flushed cheeks, fading wince, and flattened ears. With a massive scroll still held in her hands, she says, "Ah, oops? I thought I had everything moved out of the way, but… um. I guess I didn't."

Snorting, I flick my tail her way. "My parentss are too dead to mind. I don't care."

She manages a quick smile at me before her focus snaps to the map, unfurling it just as Ruby steps in to peer and poke at it. "I thought it looked," Lena muses, her ears gradually un-flattening, "Ah. Less polished, but more complete? I see more of where the Wildflower District is now."

Ruby hums, one finger pressed into the parchment— and as she speaks of the city, comparing years I wasn't present, my focus drifts to the parts Lena had scattered on the ground. She says something about connections, something that tickles the academic part of me, but my focus is elsewhere.

Bits of metal, a clamp, a metal flask, and… a wooden hand of many parts, each riveted with brass, its palm facing down and fingers splayed limply against the ground. Bits of glossy black peek through the seams like veins of tar, something that digs at my memories but fails to turn over anything of meaning.

Two steps close the gap, and my tail snakes out to hook the hand out from Lena's personal space. Curled into a fist, it fits entirely in my scaled palm with space to spare, and my clawed thumb clacks across its smooth surface without a scratch.

"What are you, I wonder?" I murmur, running my pointed tongue across my lips. Why in the Gods' names would my parents make this? Perhaps another absurd puzzle box, or another inane project tossed aside?

A flicker down, down, downward, peering into the abstract, yields nothing; I see only the kindly cogs and familiar substance of the Manor's body, watching back with the same gentle curiosity as ever.

"There's languages conveyed entirely with hands, you know. I’m still a novice, though, so I’ll save the puns for later," Verity says cheerfully, and I yank myself free of abstraction. When our eyes meet, she winks, bending down to peer at the hand in my... hands. Hah. Following that, she adds, "Really good workmanship, actually. Too expensive to be nothing, so it’s gotta be for something, right?"

I turn the hand over in a rasp of lacquered wood on scales, quashing another growl as it builds in my chest. What is it with my parents and their puzzles? Gods. “Probably. Split the room down the middle?”

My tail traces a line, and when I realize a wiggling tailtip isn’t great at specifics, I use my free hand to draw a line down the room.

“Down the middle,” Verity agrees, sparing a glance at Ruby and Lena. Ruby’s scribbling furiously now, and Lena’s saying something about intersections and roads. When my eyes meet Verity’s again, their white-yellow light shimmering against her cheekbones, she flashes me with another grin. “And then we’ll see what the brainy girls are up to, too. And Dame Tousavon.”

“This beauty hides brains, dear, don’t sell me short,” Lizzie chuckles from across the room. “And I’ll look out for similar items as well, there’s a cabinet set under this table that looks like it’s been a mess for well over a decade.”

Memories rush back unbidden, crashing against my will before being rent into scraps of useful information. “Just about a decade, yeah. Gave up on it four years before they passed.”

We set about the room searching, with Lena and Ruby’s speculations serving as a pleasant backdrop. Lizzie and Verity both stop by to help them on occasion, giving input on the growing pile of maps, diagrams, and so on they’d been collecting— Ruby even goes back into the other rooms we’d explored a few times.

I find what might be a forearm and bicep, separated and missing a joint to link them. Verity finds another hand, Lizzie finds a thigh and calf.

Lena actually joins us at that point, with Ruby following not long after. We even spread the search into the other long room, which holds a miniature forge, an alchemy table I am painfully familiar with, and walls absolutely crammed with books. The talk of my own blood trail leading out of the back room is short, and ends with hugs.

Seeing my own trail of destruction was nearly as cathartic. I’d tossed over a shelf full of alchemical brews, leaving a scorched and cracked section of wall and floor.

With everyone searching it doesn’t take long to find another calf and another full arm, but the missing thigh, torso, head, and feet never materialize.

Not a damned clue as to why my parents were tinkering with a mannequin, though.

The real discovery catches us by surprise— or, at least, it catches me by surprise. Can’t speak for anyone else.

Tucked away in the back of a drawer between crumpled-up diagrams and sketches is a lump of smooth black glass, almost a void in the flickering light of the lab. It’s Ruby that finds it, and I’m quite thankful it’s her, because she’s heard the most about the stuff and is the least likely to touch it.

“Black glass. Careful, let me check if it's real,” I clarify, letting my tail curl to allow the girls to crowd around me. My claws carefully, carefully brush against the fist-sized chunk, pressed against the flat planes, and I lift it onto the desk proper. The contact sends cold shivers up my fingers, like dunking my hand in frigid water. “Ssame sstuff, er, same stuff as the knife Dongbaek’s using. Before you ask, not sure how they made it, but it works well in knife form for cutting open Delves.”

The moment my claws lift, my soul echoes hollowly.

“Fascinating,” Lena breathes, leaning in close. Her side brushes up against mine, and the heels of her boots touch my tail. With one ear swiveled toward me, she asks, “To see it up close... and, ah, why specifically should we be careful? Does it have some effect that you were able to resist? Or is it just your scales that make it safer for you?”

I spare a glance at the chair, which I’d thus far done my best to forget. “Both. Black glass feels a bit like Hearts do, and the edges are sharp enough to cut skin on contact.”

“Approaching conceptually sharp, from the look of it. Abstractions like that are tricky,” Verity muses, leaning in on the other side. Her smile is dim but present, like a candle at dawn. “Lena’s right, that’s fascinating. Gosh, if your parents weren’t terrible, I’d be impressed with them.”

That draws a bitter chuckle out of me and an airy laugh from Lizzie that sounds decidedly Elizabeth. Lena’s expression darkens to a momentary scowl, and even Ruby seems less than pleased, if her furrowed brow is something to go by.

Lizzie ends her laugh with a sigh. “I’d have called them terrible before I learned what they’d...” her voice chokes, but she pushes onward. “...what they’d done to Ivy. And the glass has caused us nothing but grief, in the past few months.”

“And now it might be useful,” I shrug, prodding the glass with a claw. Light plays over its surface, over each little imperfection and jagged edge. Reaching deep into my memories, I dredge up a dozen half-remembered conversations, blending them with years of research and a bit of strategy. “Will be useful, if I can figure out how the knives work. He sealed us in a Delve damned quickly, and while I’m quick myself, I’m not half a minute quick. Could be useful for cutting between layers, too.”

“So, why make it?” Lena adds, eyes still tracking the glass. “Ah, I assume this is made, not a raw material; that’s how you’ve been talking about it, I think.”

“Possibly for testing,” Ruby suggests, and her heartbeat dulls— a quick glance confirms she’s wandered across the room to poke at another desk. “Set out of the way, not hidden, but not destroyed. Yes, likely that it was of use, but ceased to be.”

I can’t do much more than shrug, as much as it irritates me. “That’d make sense. Test before implementation, as always.”

Ruby tilts her head. Her eyes bore into mine, picking at my features with dispassionate and brutal efficiency. The rest of the room turns to follow her gaze. “More information is needed. We will need to examine the back room.”

Lena tenses, and the room holds its breath.

Do they truly think me so fragile? That my scales and sinew are spun glass, this close to the chair?

Hah. I’ve given them reason to believe it, haven’t I.

I raise a hand, and the Manor dances between my fingertips. Three doors click in concert.

The Manor’s boards and stones groan softly, settling in place. The way is open, it whispers, the manor rests. Warmth flees my shoulders, and the Manor’s presence goes with it. Remembering had been costly for the Manor, and with my magic locked behind a cracked soul, I couldn’t do more than offer drips of power in return.

“There,” I say softly, clicking my tailtip rhythmically along the floor, “It’s open.”

I take a breath, and add, “Let me go first. There’s... things that need explaining.”

And I’ll hate it as much as I love it. I’ll have to get another hug from Lena for this, at least.

---

Despite my earlier comment, I’m left to stew for a bit as the girls gather up what paperwork they have— by her own admission, Ruby will need far more time down here to build a complete picture, but what she has will “adequately inform”, apparently. I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of her in the near future, likely burning through several silver worth of honey a week.

Eh, I’ve dealt with worse crimes against nature and good sense; Professor Promelia’s breakfast habits come to mind. The woman had been eating the same jam and butter sandwich dipped in tea for breakfast since before the steam engine, and she’ll be eating it long after I die. Eh, at least I won’t be at risk of seeing that woman eat a soggy sandwich after I’m dead, I guess.

I shake my head, dragging my thoughts back to something remotely useful. The girls are wrapping up, and Ruby is once again talking about connections:

“The maps have patterns of lines that do not match the sewers, and connect arbitrary points in the city. Connections are likely, even if their nature isn’t. I will map them against my complete notes after.”

With that said, attention snaps to me; Verity smiles as warmly as ever, Lena’s turquoise eyes gleam a little brighter... Ruby does nothing, and Lizzie is suddenly at my side, one hand on my arm. “You’re back, dear. Are you ready?”

I stare at her, one eyebrow raised. “You’re the ones that pushed it off.”

“Technically, that was just the Detective, but you can blame me if you like!” Verity says cheerfully, cocking her head. “Buuut that sounds like you’re more than ready to go, so... let’s go?”

Lips twitching, I nod at Verity and step through the group. “Let’s get it over with.”

I reach out for the Manor reflexively, drawing up what magic I can manage— and when the Manor’s attention turns to me, I stop. Right. I doubt it can do much for me, right now. So with my tail held in one hand, I follow my drying blood trail back to the door.

“I’m sorry, Ivy,” Lena murmurs, and a soft smile slips its way out of me.

My free hand clutches the brass doorknob, scales rasping on the cold, scratched metal. “Don’t touch anything in here without asking first.”

I take a shuddering breath and close my eyes. My hand twists, the knob groans, and the door opens with a barely-there click. I should, no, I will tell them more, first.

Can’t let them walk in there unprepared, and I can’t remember how much... “Not sure how much blood I lost while stitching up that damned Delve, and I didn’t clean up well. Broke the knife prototypes on my way out, don’t touch them.”

The door swings open, and heady air blows by. Wet, metallic, with a rotting sweetness that lingers on my tongue—

—outside of our calculations, Ada. The aperture may expand beyon—

It did expand. A golden wound turns to a fracture, the Delve beyond unformed, uncrystallized.

“They pushed the experiment too far,” I say quietly. The words come easily, spilled out from research I’d long discarded the notes for. “Used the Manor’s reserves to cut open the World while inhibiting the Delve formation beyond it, leading to a highly abstracted Delve with significant rifts into the abstract itself. As such, the membrane between the first layer and the World was fragile. Would’ve taken a few minutes to stabilize.”

—n’t stop it now, love. We must brave this together, or not at all—

They should have stopped it. They could have.

“We didn’t have minutes.”

Breathe in, breathe out. After our descent into the rotten Delve, the bloody tang that each breath brings is easy to banish. I step over the blood trail, claws clacking along my tail to ease the tension in my chest. A growl still builds, and I let it fill the room.

This room is burned into my memory, a searing afterimage of bright light on closed eyes. The drafting desks against the walls, where Mother and Father did their calculations and fiddled with the knives; the golden circle of runes that ensured the central experimental space stayed contained.

There, at the center of it all, a second circle; a shattered one, with cracks running deep into the stone and not even a hint of life. The blood splattered across is far drier, crusting in ways that made my nose twitch... and among the blood, a few globs of red something I don’t recall leaving behind. Those memories are best left untouched, frankly.

—what we need. Amelia, stabilize the aperture. Love, get the knife, we’re so close to our—

Lena retches. Lizzie mutters in a language I don’t know. I can feel the heat of Verity’s gaze on my back, and Ruby...

Ruby clears her throat, voice hitching. “P-proceed, Ivy.”

So I do. "High concentration of magic on this side from the forced opening. Lower concentration on the inside of the Delve. The membrane ruptured, and we all... fell inside.” My throat fights me for a moment, constricting, but I push right through with a snarl. “Right into the abstract.”

Silence, deathly and cold. Five heartbeats drown in quiet misery.

“Ah,” Verity says. “You know, the... no, never mind.”

“There’s some sense.” Lizzie scoffs, poison and malice oozing freely. “I doubt you could bring levity to this, darling. Do keep your mouth shut.”

Verity sighs, but says nothing more.

“But you got out,” Lena murmurs, clearing her throat. Her hand weaves its way into mine, trembling, squeezing, sapping the burning heat from my scaled palms. “You got out. Restoration, I’m happy you did... and I’m sorry you, ah. I’m sorry you went through this.”

Thump click clack. My tail drops to the ground, tip slashing its way across the empty floor. Fury and pain go with it, catharsis through vibration and motion; my heart, steeled by will and anchored by warmth. “Made it out, stitched it closed, and broke every damned knife in the lab. Not a damned clue why they even did the test— Adamantine, I don’t even know what knowledge they died for, just that it was idiotic and poorly planned.”

“So we will find out. Delves are why we are here,” Ruby says blandly, stepping around me. “Are there hazards I should be aware of in the room?”

I cast my sight around as the girls filter in. Verity puts a hand on my shoulder as she passes, murmuring an apology I accept easily. I compare what I see against some rather unpleasant memories, sift through the murk, and come up with a decent answer. “Black glass shards, for one. Don’t touch the inner rune circle, don’t touch anything that glows, and try not to touch...”

My tail flicks at the bits of me left on the floor, my hand following the motion. “That. So, let’s get this over with. Find some answers.”

We’ve done this several times today, and while the mood is darker, the movements stay the same. We have moved from prodding at my heart to digging up the dead, and when the deed is done I hope I’ll be content.

Maps, connections, wax for storing magic, a black glass knife hidden away from me... days and days strapped in a chair, poked and prodded and shaped like a tool. And now, Dongbaek, using these secrets to rip apart the city my parents loved. I barely even know the man.

I wonder, Mother, Father, was this your plan all along, or was murdering you both the best choice I’d ever made?