Braun

Rain hammered softly against the stone above the cave mouth, the sound steady enough now that Braun had long since stopped listening to it. The fire crackled low between scattered rocks, throwing uneven amber light across the cavern walls. Smoke drifted upward in lazy ribbons before vanishing into the dark somewhere overhead. Braun sat near the flames with one forearm braced across a raised knee, slowly dragging a whetstone down the length of his dagger. Steel against stone sounded. Again. Again. The Middle was quiet tonight., he thought. Which should have warned him something was wrong.

A faint scrape sounded somewhere above. Braun did not look up immediately. Mostly because anything living in the Middle that wanted your attention usually intended to remove an organ afterward. Another scrape followed, before silence took over. His shadows stirred faintly near the cave ceiling. Braun sighed through his nose without lifting his head. “You breathe like a dying rat.”

A wet clicking noise answered him from the darkness overhead. It was not offended. It was amused. Slowly, Braun looked up. The Attor hung upside down from the ceiling like some gigantic diseased bat, hooked claws embedded effortlessly into stone. Its wings wrapped partially around itself in oily folds while pale eyes reflected firelight back at him. Thin limbs dangled lazily. Its head tilted far too sharply to one side, watching him, and grinning.

Braun had stopped asking how long it had been there. That knowledge had only ever made things worse. The Attor clicked its teeth softly. “You cook the same thing every night.”

Braun returned to sharpening the dagger. “And yet you keep showing up.”

A leathery wing shifted following these words, then suddenly the creature dropped. Braun’s hand snapped toward the knife instantly, shadows flaring violently around the cave walls before the Attor caught itself inches from the ground and folded into a crouch beside the fire with grotesque elegance. Its grin widened. The bastard liked provoking reactions. Braun glared at it across the flames. “One day I’m going to let Bryaxis eat you.”

The Attor hissed a laugh. “No, you won’t.”

Unfortunately, it was probably right. The creature leaned closer to the fire, long claws stretching toward the warmth while rainwater dripped steadily from its wings. Up close, it smelled faintly of wet stone, old blood, and forest rot. Then its pale eyes shifted toward the small bundle beside Braun’s pack. The smoked rabbit.

Braun saw the exact moment the Attor noticed it. “No.”

The Attor blinked innocently.

“No,” Braun repeated flatly.

The creature slowly extended one claw anyway. Braun smacked the back of its hand with the whetstone without even looking. The Attor recoiled with an outraged shriek that echoed through the cave. “THIEF,” it screeched.

"That is my food.” Braun retorted sharply.

“You live in my woods.” It shrieked back, still offended.

Braun stared at it for a long moment. Then in a deadpanned voice, replied: “You don’t even know where we are.”

The Attor paused, its eyes narrowed suspiciously. “…That is not the point.”

A tired laugh almost escaped Braun before he caught it. Almost. The fire cracked softly between them while the storm raged outside, and somewhere deep in the Middle, an ancient nightmare and a broken soldier sat bickering over smoked rabbit like two feral strays that had accidentally become accustomed to each other’s presence.

The thing in the corner had not moved for nearly an hour. Braun pretended not to notice it. The cabin itself was little more than warped wood and stolen warmth buried deep in the Middle, its roof rattling softly beneath rain while the fire cracked low and amber. One chair. One table. One bed shoved against the wall. And in the farthest corner, where the light refused to settle properly, the shadows breathed too thickly. Bryaxis. Or part of her, at least.

He sat cross-legged on the floor instead of the chair, one forearm resting over a bent knee, an old book open in his hand. His voice remained low and rough from disuse, carrying through the room in an easy rhythm that sounded more like tidewater than conversation. He did not ask questions, did not demand answers, did not even look directly toward the dark mass curled impossibly into itself near the ceiling beams.

He simply read. He read stories about ancient sea beasts, lost courts swallowed by storms, and fools who sailed too far north. Every now and then the shadows nearest the fireplace twitched strangely, like smoke reconsidering its shape. Once, the fire dimmed when he paused too long between chapters. Braun glanced up slowly. A pair of pale eyes had appeared in the dark, watching him without blinking.

He stared back for a moment before lowering his gaze calmly to the page again. “Right,” He murmured, turning it. “You liked that one.”

Somewhere above him, deep within the living dark, something enormous settled more comfortably against the rafters.

The river nymph surfaced only after midnight, but Braun had known she was there for hours. The forest had gone too quiet around the water long before she appeared, the current itself moving strangely beneath the moonlight. He sat near the bank anyway, sleeves rolled to his forearms, sharpening a hunting knife against a whetstone while the shadows drifted lazily around his boots like smoke too tired to rise.

Curled beside his thigh, half wrapped in his discarded cloak, the river otter, Cove, slept soundly against the warmth of the fire. Occasionally, his whiskers twitched in dreams. Then came the soft sound of water parting. It was not violent, but curious. Braun did not reach for a weapon when pale fingers curled over the mossy stones near him. A woman emerged slowly from the black river, silver skin shimmering faintly beneath the moon, dark wet hair hanging down her back in ribbons. Beautiful in the way deep water was beautiful. The kind that drowned people smiling. She tilted her head at him.

Braun kept sharpening the blade. “You stare at me much longer,” He said quietly, "I’m going to charge you.”

The nymph blinked once. Then, unexpectedly, laughed. The sound rippled across the river like thrown coins.

Unfortunately, the otter chose that exact moment to wake up. His little head popped free of the cloak instantly. Tiny paws planted against Braun’s leg while he squinted suspiciously toward the river. Braun barely had time to lower the knife before the creature launched himself directly into the water with an outraged chirp. The nymph startled hard enough to splash backward.

Braun stared blankly as the otter paddled furious circles around her like a tiny drunken guard dog defending its territory.. “…Really?” He muttered, as his otter chirped louder.

The nymph surfaced again several feet away, staring at the animal in complete disbelief while one of Braun’s shadows drifted across the water toward her curiously. Instead of retreating, she laughed again, softer this time, watching the tiny beast continue bobbing aggressively between them.

Braun rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. “You’re eight pounds." He informed the otter flatly. “She could kill you.”

The otter slapped the water with his tail. The nymph smiled slowly. And somewhere deep in the Middle, beneath moonlight and drifting shadows, Braun realized this was somehow becoming his life.

The nymph did not leave by dawn, however. Neither did Braun ask her to. Mist rolled low across the river while pale morning light filtered weakly through the trees overhead, turning the water silver-blue around the rocks. The fire had burned itself low sometime before sunrise, leaving only faint heat and drifting smoke behind. Braun sat where he had been most of the night, one arm resting loosely over a bent knee while the otter remained sprawled shamelessly across his lap now like it had personally survived a war.

The nymph lingered half in the river still, dark hair slick against bare shoulders while she watched him through lowered lashes. Less cautious now, but curious in a different way.

Braun noticed eventually, just as a faint smile touched her mouth. It was a dangerous thing. It was soft enough to make a man forget rivers had teeth. Then she moved closer. The water folded around her as she drifted toward the bank until she rested between his knees, pale hands settling lightly against his thighs for balance. Braun stilled instinctively, shadows curling once around his wrists before calming again.

The otter looked deeply offended by this development. He chirped sharply from his lap. The nymph glanced down at the creature before looking back up at Braun with obvious amusement. He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose. “Apparently,” He informed her, “You still need clearance.” The otter slapped his stomach with one tiny paw as if agreeing. She laughed again. Softer this time.

Braun had spent years surrounded by monsters in the Middle. Things with too many teeth. Too many eyes. Ancient things buried beneath forests and lakes and forgotten stone. Most creatures sensed something broken in him and either feared it or fed on it. But this female only reached up carefully and brushed damp fingertips along the silver-veined cracks winding beneath the tattoos across his chest. The Cauldron scars lit faintly beneath her touch.

Braun’s breath caught despite himself. For a moment neither of them moved. The waterfall thundered softly behind them while blue lanternflies drifted lazily through the cavern air. His shadows slid across the water around her wrists, curious instead of hostile now. Familiar. The nymph tilted her forehead against his slowly. And Braun, who had survived wars, monsters, drowning storms, and fifty years under a mountain built to break people apart, realized with sudden terrifying clarity that this felt far more dangerous than any of those things ever had.

The Pooka stole his boot sometime around sunset. Braun discovered this only after stepping directly into freezing mud with one socked foot while Cove, the otter, watched from a nearby log like this was the greatest event of his tiny life. “…You little bastard.”

Somewhere deeper in the field, something chittered triumphantly. The Pooka burst through the tall grass a second later in the shape of an enormous black mare, Braun’s stolen boot hanging from its mouth while its silver eyes gleamed with outright criminal delight. Its mane caught the amber light of dusk as it bounded away in impossible zigzags, fast enough that even the shadows struggled to keep up.

Braun stared after it for exactly three seconds before lunging, and the field exploded into chaos immediately. Cove chirped like an alarm bell and launched himself after them while Braun tore through waist-high grass laughing under his breath for the first time in days. Shadows streamed behind him in long ribbons while the Pooka twisted forms mid-run, hare becoming fox becoming lean black deer before shifting back again just to be annoying. “Give me the damn boot!” Braun barked.

The Pooka kicked its back legs gleefully and accelerated.

Braun finally caught it near the tree line by tackling straight through one of its illusions instead of the creature itself. The real Pooka yelped in surprise when he caught it around the middle, both of them crashing hard into the grass while the stolen boot flew into the air dramatically. And then there was silence. And then, Cove, who had arrived late and furious, launched himself onto the Pooka’s stomach with all the authority of an angry potato.

The Pooka screamed, and Braun lost it entirely. Laughter ripped out of him sharp and startled while the creature beneath him writhed dramatically as if being murdered by the eight-pound menace standing on its ribs. The shadows around Braun fluttered wildly with the sound, spinning through the grass like smoke caught in warm wind.

For a moment, just one, beneath the gold-stained sky and the endless wild of the Middle, Braun did not look haunted at all.

The kelpie watched him from the center of the marsh like it already knew exactly how this would end. Moonlight turned the flooded bog silver-blue around them, reeds bending softly in the cold wind while black water stretched endlessly between drowned trees. Braun stood knee-deep near the shoreline, one boot missing thanks to a certain maned menace from earlier, sleeves soaked through and shadows winding low across the surface like living smoke.

And there, half submerged in the middle of the water, was the thing smiling at him. Beautiful at first glance, but that was the problem. Long dark hair drifted across pale shoulders while sharp cheekbones and dark eyes caught the moonlight too perfectly. Its mouth curved slow and inviting, lips parted slightly as it tilted its head toward him with almost human curiosity. Almost.

Braun knew exactly what it was anyway. The shadows around his wrists tightened. “Kissing thing, aren’t you?” He called across the marsh. The kelpie smiled wider, before it vanished beneath the water entirely, while the swamp went still. Braun exhaled once through his nose. “Great.”

Something brushed his ankle, fast. He reacted instantly, shadows exploding downward through the water just as pale hands shot upward from beneath the surface to grab him. The kelpie surged from the bog in a violent splash, beautiful face split by something monstrous beneath the glamour now. Its mouth stretched too wide, it's teeth too sharp. It's fingers clawed hard into Braun’s soaked shirt as it tried dragging him deeper.

Braun caught it by the throat before it could pull him under. Water crashed around them violently while the kelpie hissed inches from his face, black eyes glittering with fury and hunger. Up close, the glamour flickered strangely around its features. Too smooth one second. Rotting beneath the skin the next. And still it smiled. “You know,” Braun grunted, planting one boot hard into the muddy bank while shadows wrapped around the creature’s wrists, “This is a terrible first date.”

The kelpie blinked once. Then, horrifyingly, laughed. It was not human laughter. It was wet laughter, like drowning things choking beneath deep water. Braun stared at it in complete disbelief while rain began spilling harder through the marsh around them. The silver veining beneath his tide tattoos lit faintly beneath soaked skin as the creature tilted its head curiously at the sight.

For one strange suspended second neither of them moved. Then the otter, this one his female named Waverly, came flying out of nowhere like divine judgment. The tiny animal launched directly onto the kelpie’s head screeching absolute fury while Braun barked out a startled laugh despite himself. The kelpie recoiled violently in disgust, trying to claw the furious little beast off its face while the otter committed fully to war. Braun took advantage immediately. With one brutal shove of shadows and muscle, he hurled the creature backward into the deep swamp water. The kelpie vanished beneath the black surface with a furious scream, water exploding upward around it before the marsh went still again.

Amusement crossed his features as Waverly paddled proudly back toward Braun looking deeply pleased with herself. Braun stared at her dripping wet for a long moment. “…You cannot keep fighting ancient horrors like this,” He informed her flatly, but she only chirped.

Somewhere deeper beneath the swamp, something laughed again in the dark.

The Suriel stole his tea. Braun discovered this only after spending nearly twenty minutes boiling river water over a tiny campfire in the ruins and turning back to find the steaming cup simply… gone. Cove chirped suspiciously from atop his pack, while Waverly scurried ahead. Braun narrowed his eyes slowly at the empty stone beside the fire. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Somewhere deeper within the ivy-choked ruins, dry fabric rustled. Braun followed the sound through broken archways and moss-slick stone until he found the Suriel seated delicately atop a collapsed pillar beneath the moonlight, long skeletal fingers wrapped around his cup like a noble attending afternoon tea. It looked entirely unbothered as Waverly scurried into it's lap. The Suriel sipped slowly.

Braun stared at it for a full five seconds. “That,” He said finally, “is my tea.”

The Suriel lowered the cup with maddening calm. “You left it unattended,” It replied in its whispering, ancient voice. “That feels like a you problem.” Braun blinked once, while Cove made an outraged noise from his shoulder. The Suriel’s enormous dark eyes slid toward the tiny creature. ]“And your furry companion keeps threatening me.”

From atop the pack, Cove immediately bared its microscopic teeth. “Don’t encourage him,” Braun muttered tiredly.

The Suriel took another peaceful sip anyway while moonlight filtered silver through the shattered ceiling overhead. Around them, shadows drifted lazily across the old stones, curling around Braun’s boots and up the ruined pillars like smoke searching for warmth. “You smell like storms now,” The Suriel observed quietly after a moment. “And death. But less lonely than before.”

Braun leaned one shoulder against the crumbling arch beside him. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in months.”

The Suriel tilted its head thoughtfully. “That is deeply concerning.” Braun barked out a startled laugh before he could stop himself. The sound echoed strangely through the ancient ruins, enough to make several sleeping birds flee the rafters. The Suriel watched him over the rim of the stolen cup. “You laugh more lately.”

Braun rubbed a hand down his face. “I liked it better when you just stole things.”

“You are healing poorly,” the Suriel informed him. “But you are healing.”

Silence settled between them then, but it was comfortable somehow. Cove eventually climbed from Braun’s shoulder directly into the Suriel’s lap to join Waverly like they had known the ancient creature for years. Braun stared in complete disbelief as skeletal claws carefully scratched beneath the tiny animal’s chin while it chirped happily. Traitors. Both of them. The Suriel looked unbearably pleased with itself, and slowly, Braun realized the ancient horrors of Prythian had apparently decided he was theirs now.