VERDANT

and then the universe screamed

In the shadows of a cave that Should Not Have Been, a feral Dragonbat searched for food. Leathery wings cut through the dark air and beady eyes scoured the walls. But there was something peculiar about it-- its body jerked and twitched haphazardly, sometimes dipping through the air before struggling back to its normal altitude. As if something was messing with its brain. Which Verdant was.

Inside the wet folds of the lesser's brain, the worm felt exhilaration.

The blind, deaf, helpless Verdant knew only three things in existence. One: themself, a quickly-growing vessel of white flesh and primitive jaws. Currently around an inch long, possibly more. Two: the Calamity, their one and only fellow soul. The Calamity could not follow them everywhere, but it was always with them regardless, a sacred connection between their minds. Third: the warm, nutritious STAR they called home. They wiggled through its grey matter, both food and shelter at once.

That was it. Until something changed.

They could sense the difference in chemicals, though the brainworm couldn't quite decipher them yet. The placement of the Star was different from where they were before. That made them excited. It was new. But they didn't know what it was, and that made their little blood-stained head droop. Verdant wanted to know. They wanted to experience beyond the bounds of their host. They wanted to FLY like Calamity flew, like how their Star flew.

"Fly...I wanttofly," they whispered to the Living Planet.

Something sparked in their stone. But then it fizzled out, and the bat continued hobbling along its way.

VERDANT

and then the universe screamed

The parasite stopped wriggling. That spark did not go unnoticed. It was like... magic. Yes, the sparking sensation that connected them to the Star in their mind. But not quite-- there was something different about this one. The other one had a bright, crystalline sensation to it. This was darker, hotter, more akin to a roiling planet core than a neutron star.

They took one more "bite" of viscous fluid and concentrated on that feeling. How powerful was it? Could they fly with this? What even is flight, anyways? Vaguely, they felt Calamity observing their thoughts, and wordlessly shared their excitement. They were going to do something new.

From the outside, the Dragonbat continued flying circles around the Womb of Draco, saliva dripping from its teeth. From the inside, a brainworm's tiny stone charged with magicka, before stuttering out once more. They did not feel annoyance at their failure, only patience to try again. Its wings sailed through the air and drifted near the walls to rest.

VERDANT

and then the universe screamed

Space broiled with the misty winds of thought.

"Why doesn't it work?" Verdant questioned to the uncaring universe. They did not see the Dragonbat as a living thing. They did not even view magic as being like magic. The parasite saw them both as tools, as stars, and right now the tools weren't responding.

Connections of pale starlight laced planets together as they reasoned.

"Am I aiming too far? Is that it?" They imagined magic as a vast field of shining novas: the simpler spells they knew closer by, the grander ones further. They coiled their body, contemplating where the Dark-Hot-Spell would go, and placed it somewhere near the back. It was difficult. They'll need to get more proficient with the closer ones first, hopping from nebula to nebula before they can fly. Yes, that made sense.

"Must I do something beforehand to secure it's success?" Meteors drifted through open space. The star-traveller decided it was worth a shot. But what could they do, in their restriction? They decided to corkscrew three times clockwise. It wasn't much, but it was honest.

Verdant aimed for something unknown, but close, this time. The nebulas coursed with magic. A pathway bored through spacetime and a new sense opened in their mind, like the pulsations of a neutron star. They found themselves able to identify a strange thrumming all around them, scattered points near and far. The closest (and brightest) one, they noticed, beat to the same tune as the blood coursing through the tissue around them.

Did that-- the pulsation-- belong to the same thing as their vessel? Yes, certainly. This was an exciting discovery. They just discovered a Star's core, that's what they'd call it, because it seemed to have some connection to the rest of the Star. They learnt something new! This was exciting! If they had a heart of their own, it'd be beating fast too.

The vision faded, and they returned to their senseless drifting. They will work their way up.

VERDANT

and then the universe screamed

Okay, going good. The star-speckled mists settle down. Let's practice something a little more familiar: the whispering spark they once cast. It was very difficult to control, given they lacked both voice and hearing; the first time they cast it, they didn't even notice. All the more reason to practice it. Soon, they'll work their way up more.

They wriggled around three times as before in their fleshy enclosure. They visualized the glowing star in front of them, their body curling around it. After that it was just a matter of focusing.

A crystal comet shot off into unknown space.

Meanwhile, the spined bat had finally found a place to perch when an incessant whispering interrupted it's relaxation. "HiehwIf... Hie... Lle..." It screeched towards the vague corner from which it came, jostling the worm inside its brain slightly. To Verdant, that was a sign it worked. It worked! Sure, they didn't know if they got the word "Hello" across properly, but any result was a good result.

Now only if they could settle these nervous chemicals its brain was sending. It was giving them a headache.

death

gore

VERDANT

and then the universe screamed

They could feel their magic supply exhaust. It wasn't an explicit feeling, just vague tiredness growing stronger with each cast. Such a tiny body wasn't meant for shooting out spells one after another. A shame.

"Just one more try. If I don't get this one, I'll rest. That seemed like a good promise to hold by. Roundworms don't exactly sleep, but they could still let their mind wander away from this physical prison and its panic chemicals.

They turned thrice. The dragonbat finally calmed down. They charged up. The dragonbat returned to an uneasy roost. Verdant cast.

But the stars did not give them mercy this time.

The bat didn't even have a chance to scream as all the blood in it's brain went in all the wrong directions Its claws released from the stone as it fell in a spasmed frenzy. Limp wings hit the ground first. It gurgled once. And then it was gone.

Inside, Verdant just had the most terrifying experience of their life. They were disoriented, dislodged, and felt higher-than-normal levels of wetness. Suddenly stopped fear chemicals winked out like dying stars.

It was several minutes before they dared to move.

"Star."

The body was rapidly cooling.

"Star. Why isn't it moving?"

Their proboscis stuck out, but the tissue was stiff and unappetizing.

"I did everything right. That was the last nebula conjured. Stars are supposed to move and be warm. Move."

It didn't move. Suddenly Verdant felt like a little neonate on the cold cave floor again.

"... Please help."

CALAMITY

so all the things can grow

Calamity had been somewhere in Pegasus this entire time, idly drifting along the river while Verdant went though their quest through the stars. Occasionally it'd pop in- gentle congratulations when they succeeded a spell, and reassurance when they didn't. It could fly- but it didn't know HOW to fly, it just did. It felt bad that it couldn't help, in this regard.

Then something bad happened.

It felt Verdant's panic, causing it's own panic to surge through the link. What was happening? What had happened? Had the magic broken? Had the star-shelter broken?

"Far. Coming. Coming to help." It vaguely knew where Verdant was- it'd gone down the other direction of the hatching-tunnel. But it had to get there, and Calamity wasn't particularly fast.

"Find shelter? Find shelter. I'm coming."

@Verdant

VERDANT

and then the universe screamed

They felt Calamity's worry, and a pang of guilt shot through their body. Scaring themself half to death was one thing, scaring the person they loved was another. They looked down at the conceptual idea of a dead host like a child and a broken vase.

"No no no. No panic." Verdant reassured, trying to calm them both down. They sent the idea of calm towards them. The worm had recently advanced to thinking in words, but still held onto mental pictograms when talking to the Living Planet. "Just... difficulty. Small. Find shelter-- yes."

If they had lungs, this would be the part where they let out a deep breath. This is just a small mishap. Sure, they messed up for the first time in their life and don't know what to do, but that's fine. It's just a tool. Tools break. They'll just have to find a new one.

The glassy-eyed bat began to liquify: first the extremities melted into oil, then slowly moving inwards.

Verdant could sense the change. When they started they were adventurous and chased after every new sensation, but this was too much. They know they promised themself no more spells for the night, but...

... fail. Verdant took the roundworm equivalent of another deep breath. "No worry, okay? I'll be fine. Will unfail. Just don't worry."

@Calamity