BECMI Chapter 412 – Years Passing
I didn’t have many visitors.
One, I lived in a very inhospitable land that happened to be surrounded by dragons. Said dragons were also very protective and proud of their dens and the magical nature of the environment, and almost unreasonably eager to fall upon any intruders and drive them off.
That is not to say I didn’t allow people in, but reaching the Castle would have required stealth and the ability to navigate or bypass some extremely treacherous and unnatural terrain. The rings of jagged peaks surrounding Castle Doomrose and the burning lava about it were nigh-impossible to get past, and the various dragons who laired in them were prickly about the presence of others there.
Still, word got out, and some adventurers came, because one of the things I brought back from the Far Shore was a copy of the guiding AI for Castle Darkmoor. I installed into the roots of Castle Doomrose, and let it start doing its thing.
The world was slowly spinning, and what had been a sea to the north on a port was now many miles away to the south. But I could still put a single channel winding through that mess and down to what would become the Sea of Strife on the original world, and the daring could sail up it among the jagged peaks and deep canyons, water too hot for humans to swim in, and come up to the great gates down at the base of my improbably high tower.
The Dungeon of Castle Doomrose.
Under the eyes of a great many interested dragons, adventurers would disembark, and enter to try their luck in the greatest Dungeon of the entire world, thirty-six levels that extended up and down a mountain to heights and depths, taking its toll in blood and tears, even as riches came forth from within it that could be found nowhere else, courtesy of Emeril’s portfolio of explorers including the Dungeon explorers he was once one of. Now he could tap the distant power of the Barhund’s Core to help power him and aid the AI here in creating grandiose levels to explore, some of which were copied almost directly out of Exudar IV, and others which went quite beyond it.
I helped make some of the Levels, the AI interfacing with the rich magical potential of the darkstone constructed more of them, and Emeril himself added to everything and made sure it kept working.
There were tricks and traps and greatly-feared puzzles, a whole kingdom’s worth of different areas to explore and fight through, with deadly monsters, clever surprises, unique terrains, and even access to demiplanes as the Dungeon expanded and Emeril’s explorations across the world and beyond it bore fruit.
Tales of the Dungeon of Doomrose spread across the world, spread by the Inns of the Master Shef, and the skilled and the strong came to test it.
From a distance, I watched as Sif and Thor grew up.
They were fostered to different clans and families in different villages, but both knew the other was there. In time they would meet, both of them knew it, but they grew up with normal Bolle families.
It was nothing for Sif to modify her skin to the paler hues of the Bolle, and her brown hair didn’t actually stand out much. She wasn’t exceptional in appearance as a child, of course, being freckled and rather average, actually, but that was all within expectations.
Her talent with knives and blades became apparent quite early just from her whittling, and she was out hunting by the time she was four, bringing home rabbits and grouse with little trouble for her family. As she grew up hard and lean, her talent with a sword in hand became impossible to miss, even though she was basically self-taught and had no great master instructing her.
Thor grew up with a stiff blond mane, ruddy skin, and of course was far taller and stronger than any normal human for his age. He was working the fishing boats with his adoptive father soon enough, tireless and not complaining, although that was soon set aside when his talents with the hammer and anvil became too obvious to miss.
Soon he was taking over for the aged smith of the settlement, turning out hooks, hinges, nails, and screws of quality completely unexpected in such a barbaric place… and if one were lucky with a request, tools and even weapons!
By the time he was fifteen, Thor’s fish-gutting knives were known up and down the coast, and he was giving directions to three older smiths he was already taller and stronger than in making fine ironware and steel that was quickly the highest standard for the surviving Bolle tribes.
His Hammer was also truly feared, as some of the strongest warriors of the Bolle came to hear about his strength, and left humbled and often broken when they challenged the young smith, finding him a far deadlier and more skilled combatant than they had expected.
Sif was twelve years old when the Hag Curse came for her, and she had to leave her family. Both her parents knew of what was coming and saw her off into the wilds as she went to confront her destiny.
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The Storm Hag’s head flopped to the ground, sliced right through with impressive speed and more strength than the white-haired lightning flinger had expected. I eyed it impassively as Sif grimaced, her skin seared and reddened by the voltage.
Her Null wasn’t up to par as yet. A baby Rantha Hag, first come into her power, and so still vulnerable to a Hag at this moment.
“You seem to have addressed this problem without my help, Sif,” I said calmly, standing there waiting for her.
“How long have you been watching?” she spat back at me, clearly not in a good mood.
I held up a hand, which swirled with pale golden Light and paler blue icefires. She glared at me with eyes gone almost luminous pale green now, her once-brown hair now long fiery locks of magnificent auburn, nearly a head taller than she’d been twelve hours earlier… and the blue-black ruin of her Cursemark twisted across half the left side of her face, spoiling a fey and dangerous wild beauty that would have been the talk of all the tribes, and described as ‘kingdom-toppling’ in warmer lands.
“Since sundown. I have never witnessed a Hag being Turned, as it were, and thought I should rectify such a thing,” I replied with just a tinge of whimsy. “You even had a proper baptism by fire. It really is efficient.”
“They come seeking a new sister to teach and form a coven,” Sif spat on the corpse, looking down at her new hands and flexing them thoughtfully. “This is a much better match to my memories than I was growing up. Skipping all the horrid initial years of menstruation and hormones kicking in is worth it,” she muttered, looking back up at me. “All right, whip it up, let me see myself.”
A Gaze Reflection mirror was a non-issue. Sif put her hands on her hips and glared at herself in appraisal, noting muscle tone that was lacking and obviously out of shape compared to where she wanted to be.
Still, she couldn’t help smiling at the exquisitely long legs, perfect flare of the hips, narrow waist, and the ass to die for. The complete lack of breasts was only to be expected, of course.
She turned to get a good look at the marring of her Cursemark, then flipped her now-scarlet hair over with a jerk to conceal the scarring and studied the half of her face in the mirror.
The smoldering gaze of her very green eyes was enough to make most men jump out of their pants, and she knew it. Very white teeth gleamed, her double canines shone.
“I’ll take the bad with all this very, very good!” she pronounced with authority. “Of course, now I need new clothes,” she muttered, looking over at the tunic and leggings she had discarded before her Awakening.
A new set flipped out of my Masspack onto my Disk there, and floated over to her new self. She gave me a side-eye, snorted, and snatched up everything to slap on quickly.
It all fit just fine, if not perfectly. She’d have to grow up a bit for some of it.
“Old clothes from your sister on the Far Shore,” I told her calmly. “Thor’s mother,” I added after a moment of thought.
She had a well-practiced look of skepticism on her face. “You’ve been visiting me at least once a year since I was a baby, talking about Thor, saying he’s a Briggs. I mean, I get that he’s the male side of the Rantha equation, but I think you’re putting the importance of our getting together a little too high, right? I mean, I get these memories that said Grandmother or whoever was with the original, but really?”
“Someone isn’t appreciating the power of her mutated genetics,” I remarked knowingly, letting the fact of who was the original slide. I steepled my fingers and began gliding away, my Disk coming with me and forcing her to hop onto it so she could put on her new boots smoothly.
“How do I put this? Let’s see. Two very powerful, very physical, very intelligent, intensely charismatic individuals nearing the apex of what any mortal beings can achieve, found each other when still teenagers, basically fell in love at first sight, and now, over a century later, still can’t get enough of one another.
“I think you might feel a little less destined because I brought him here before you manifested… but I wasn’t going to wait four thousand years for the first Rantha to come along and make a difference here, as she did on the Far Shore, where her Briggs came about after she arrived first,” I judged.
“That’s… possible?” she answered warily, considering all that. “I’m made for him, he wasn’t made for me like normal? Sounds kind of weird, and spooky, if you think about it.”
“Sif, you’re going to evolve into a Rantha Hag. You’ll be stronger, tougher, and more resilient that just about any female below a lilitu succubus queen. The only women who are going to hold a candle to you in physical vitality are apex Amazons.
“There aren’t going to be a lot of men who won’t fall apart in your arms when you start getting sexual. You’re damn blessed you’ve got a man coming to you that is literally made to scratch that itch of yours.”
Sif hopped to her feet, paused to spin around and take a couple steps with a kind of unrefined, awkward grace that only made it plain how far she had to go to match her counterpart, then raced to catch up with me effortlessly. “While I won’t look down on the poetry of having someone waiting for me, it’s kind of looking down on my right to pick and choose my partners, aye, Aunt Edge?” she complained.
“I’m sure you’ll immensely regret finding something on first sight that women spend their whole lives hoping for,” I sniffed in exasperation, earning a knowing glance from her.
“Is that why there’s no Uncle who ever comes with you?” she jibed promptly. She’d been an inch taller than I a year ago, but now towered over me and was enjoying it. I promptly elbowed her and knocked her over as she laughed cheekily.
She bounced back from her sprawl in the leaves without missing a beat. “Someone’s not getting enough!” she just laughed at me, and I sighed, turning slowly to look into her matchless eyes.
“Do you want me to take you?” I asked her directly, as I let my Masking fall away.
Her eyes got very big indeed as she stared at me without any magic concealing my true appearance, and my Aura and Presence no longer restrained.
She could not help licking her lips once as she looked down at me, then forcibly bit them hard enough to draw blood and looked sharply away, taking a big breath. “No, Aunt Edge. Please go back to, to… not-normal.”