It had spent many cycles observing, learning and coming to understand the world around it. It knew many things now. It knew how to speak like the gembound did. It knew that it too was a gembound, by every technicality- though what sort of gembound it was, still remained perplexingly unclear. Indeed, it seemed trivial, with so many other wonderments to be scrutinized in so many deliciously variable caves, but it was a... personal thing.

Not that it was a person of any sort. Quite the contrary. Intelligent? Yes. Sentient, even. However, a person, by definition, had a sense of self, and empathy. This erroneous thing had no such traits.

It simply existed for its own constant improvement. Everything else was simply a part of its strange and fascinating world.

Including a particularly loud and energetic Nemean. The thing was awful, constantly making noise and rushing around. Such rush would ruin the pretty projects that kept It so satisfied. Precious projects.

It had learned that this cave, Polaris the gembound called it, was best suited for culturing these projects. Particularly around the tall, beautiful Spire. This is were the unidentified creature kept itself the most often. Tucked away against the gleaming, glowing stone, never needing to eat beyond simple desire to taste. Never needing to stray far, for this had everything the thing needed to survive, and thrive, and thrive it did.

Today, the thing had a gut feeling that something would disturb its peace. So, it had hunted. Now, it sat rigidly beside the spire's gleaming base, tearing apart a cave rat of some sort, not caring to be neat about it. Sustenance.

Magic. Energy. Life and death. Creation and recreation.

The Spire was a collection, a reservoir, a hunger.

All energy that came from the reservoir returned to the reservoir—and here, stuck inside of its Gembound flesh was a collection of magic that was trying to return home, damning its host to die so that it could return to the Spire. The Gembound believed it did not need to eat? Trickery. To die. The Gembound believed it could live beneath the Spire so unharmed? Condemned. To die. Any creature would feel sickness from such close proximity to the Spire—even for a short moment— but to live beneath it was to forfeit ones magic back to the reservoir.

To willingly let ones life be drained from them before fulfilling their purpose... truly, erroneous; one would not thrive beneath the Spire, one would wither until it died. Not His design. Unfortunate.


The stag approached cautiously, almost as if wanting to keep a distance from the Spire. His body was scattered with the usual overgrowth of fungi, ruby shimmering between his antlers; he had been sent here to investigate, and there, yes, he saw the Gembound. Contrary to the report, it appeared to be eating, so that was a good find at least. Something deeper inside of it told it to eat.

"Do you live... here?" the stag asked, gesturing to the Spire's base. He knew the answer, but he was interested to hear what the child had to say.

The erroneous hybrid took no notice of its degrading health. It had always felt wrong.

The Spire's leeching effect was often mistaken for its own lack of natural health.

After all, a creature blended of three unlikely species, left to its own devices for so long, knew no better. It had learned plenty of the world around it, but not so of its own needs, beyond staving off hunger and avoiding poisons.

So when the stag approached and asked of the fox-cross's home, the hybrid regarded it with indifference. Lackluster gaze was hardly a sign of good health.

It didn't help that the thing stank of sickness, either. Upon closer inspection, the stag would easily pick out the signs of the hybrid's immune system's distress.

"For now, for a time, yes." The hybrid responded, its voice somewhere between feminine and masculine. "Not much longer though. This cave is too busy." Thoughts went back to the spider that had days before the darkness appeared and charged his home head-long.

It knew nothing of any changes to Polaris since the Spider's appearance, too busy keeping itself fed and active enough to migrate elsewhere.

"Why do you ask?" It asked easily, lazily, as if untroubled by its lack of health and the stag's size and potential for danger.

The stag's ears cupped forward as the hybrid spoke. Any signs of its sickness were of no immediate concern to him outright, and it was expected anyway, what with the creature living beneath the Spire. Astraea was not here for the hybrid, though its living conditions were of interest on a level of research. He was here to evict the gembound from its home and clear the Spire of its pest, but was relieved to hear it had already been considering leaving.

"An odd choice is all," he commented, shifting on his thin legs. "There are certainly safer, quieter homes indeed." His eyes simmered with something else, like a deep fire burned beneath their red colour, but he had watched over the gembounds for many cycles and whenever he appeared it was never certain why.

His gaze shifted to the base of the Spire for a moment, and then back to the hybrid. There was a strange smile upon the deer's lips. Why did his children revere the reservoir? It was good. They chose to protect it against the golem days prior without even knowing what it was, even if destroying the golem had been the wrong thing to do—but they chose to protect the Spire anyway, without question. Except this hybrid, despite the Spire being its denning area. Would they choose to protect the Spire again, against anything or anyone—even if faced by greater challenges? Would they abandon the Spire for a chance at something more? He hadn't realized it, but his gaze had drifted back to the Spire, and he had been regarding it wisely.

After a few moments, the stag snapped his eyes back to the gembound and nodded sagely, "Perhaps your health will improve, too. Farewell." He turned gracefully and left the hybrid and the Spire behind.

Exit Astraea