Somebody coughed, and I felt the vague desire to murder them for disturbing my rest. “You’ve got… like… some number of seconds or minutes to… do the explain-y thing.”

“Shadow, we got the information!” shouted a voice far too cheery and upbeat. That would be Clary then. Malk probably coughed.

“Stop… talky… sleep good.”

Somebody poked me, and I opened my eyes, glaring at the perpetrator. “Explain yourself, Clary.”

“Come on Shadow! Wakey wakey, we’ve got stuff to do! I found a dungeon, and Malk found some monsters!”

I sleepily muttered, “Stop being so cheery.”

“Physically impossible, Shadow. Now come on, there’s work to do!”

I groaned and finally got up, Wabbit hopping off me and onto the floor. I took a deep breath to gather my wits, and blinked my eyes a few times to clear my head. Ready, I jumped to my feet, grabbed my gear, and exclaimed, “Onward we go!”

“Uh, are you really going to go out dressed like that?” Malk gestured to the bloodstains all over my outfit. I scowled, but shrugged and snapped my fingers. The darkness enveloped me, cloaking me from view as it wrapped me in tendrils of shadow. The darkness melted into my clothes, and when it receded I was wearing a completely different outfit.

That is of course how I change my clothes. Malk and Clary and normal people do this boring thing involving wardrobes and changing and dressing, all scattered and needing to be placed properly. It was all quite boring so I just did it this way. I gestured, and we walked out together, me in front with Wabbit at my side.

Once we were into the forest I took out my mirror from my pocket, and moved it in front of my face. Clary and Malk were used to me being vain, so they took no notice. Of course, I wasn’t interested in vanity at that moment. More interested in watching them, actually.

My new outfit was boots, a tank top, gloves, and tight jeans, all in grey with flashes of purple. I wanted to see their reactions.

Clary was dressed as normal, with a skirt past her knees and a t-shirt with the logo of one of the shows she loved, along with some hiking boots. All in blue and pink of course, and she had a dagger at her belt. She was talking to Malk, but kept glancing back at me, trying to avoid staring.

Malk was in pants and a shirt, in red and white. He had his sword at his belt, and wore a backpack probably containing supplies. He too, was staring.

I smiled to myself, and put away the mirror. I continued walking along, and checked my own gear. My sword, a simple thing with glowing purple runes, rested in my belt, but I took it out for a moment to admire it, swinging it around gracefully. Or haphazardly, depending on your definition. “Right, where are we going, Clary?”

“It’s a dungeon that should have good loot, but has never been plundered, and is nearby! Let me just grab a map…” she opened up Malk’s backpack and began digging through it, eventually taking out a map that she fumbled open. She turned it around a few times before settling on a way to hold it and said, “That way! I think.”

I shrugged, and we walked on.

I sort of tuned everything out, bored, until some idle chat broke my lack of concentration.

They were chatting, as they always were, and Wabbit had managed to get Clary riled up.

I just don’t see how it can compare to actually doing those things in real life, he sneered in writing.

“Because in Broken Storm, everything is so much more interesting! Vanessa is such a complex character, and way more confident than I am. She has all these guys and girls that want her, and there’s all this drama, and she goes on these wild adventures, and it’s just so much better than real life!” she gushed.

Malk said, “You do realize you’re going on an adventure right now, don’t you?”

“It’s different! Broken Storm is a story, so we know that Vanessa will get out all right, so it’s more enjoyable. Pretty soon I’m sure I will be too scared for my life to enjoy the adventure. And you’re one to talk, always watching those art shows.”

“Hey, those shows are very intellectual, and I learn new techniques for painting! What do you learn from watching your shows, hmm?”

“Plenty! On Professor What, they have all sorts of science involved in the episodes! And, and Broken Whispers has stuff about, like, life and people!”

You’re both pathetic, watching those shows all the time. Shadow goes out and actually does those things, every day, wrote Wabbit on the path ahead.

“Now, now, they aren’t completely useless! Granted, Clary couldn’t fight to save her life, and Malk has the brains of a slug at times, but at least they have some useful qualities, with Clary’s knowledge and illusions, and Malk’s fighting and artistry. That’s more than can be said of the commoners,” I said in defense of my minions.

Yes, but that’s because they’re commoners, wrote Wabbit.

I laughed at that. Stupid commoners.

“Hey, that’s not fair to commoners. I mean, they can… well, they… okay, it is pretty funny,” said Clary, and soon she was giggling along. Malk was too quiet and boring to laugh, so he just gave a little smile.

Once we had all stopped laughing, I asked, “So, what have you lot been up to while I was away? Clary?”

“I got promoted. I’m now the head librarian for the magic wing, and the history wing. Mostly, it means I get to delegate tasks to lackeys. Oh, and I watched the season finale for Game of Whispers. It was good, though I admit I liked the book version better.”

“Always is. Malk, what did you get up to?”

“I sold a few paintings, but business has been slow and I didn’t get much money. Once I get more, I’ll spend it on new art supplies, I’ve been dying to try out something besides painting, keep the creativity fresh. And I found a new monster manual.”

“Nice. Wabbit, what were you-“ I stopped mid-sentence, having detected something faint. I looked to Wabbit, and he wrote, I heard it too. Something’s out there.

I looked around with keen eyes, searching for anything that seemed off. My gaze swept past tall trees with grey bark and brown leaves, past thick bushes, trying to find anything out of place. Then, I saw a glint of light, the kind that signifies a knife or an eye. Considering the stealth of our stalker, I assumed it to be a beast, and they rarely carry knives.

The instant I made eye contact, the beast emerged… alongside fourteen others.

Dark wolves, and werewolves, two of the deadliest creatures in the forest, especially when working together.

“Monster-boy, give me details.” I requested casually.

“Dark wolves are both vicious and intelligent, capable of using darkness to augment their speed and power, letting them dart forward in deadly bursts. They hunt in packs, and try to separate their targets, to more easily take them down. At minimum, takes six slayers and three casters to take down a single pack.”

He’s where I get most of my monster knowledge.

He continued, “Werewolves are deadly, intelligent, and have magical powers on par with weak casters. They can augment their speed, and summon weapons of darkness similar to those used by elementals. A common but incorrect assumption is that werewolves were once elementals. Werewolves merely share a similar skeletal structure. At minimum, a pack of werewolves takes six slayers and four casters.”

By most of my monster knowledge I mean all of my monster knowledge.

I grinned. “Easy pickings.”

The tallest of the werewolves, likely the alpha, snarled at me, and rushed forward with two werewolves and two wolves, while the other ten split off to either side, to attack my friends and bunny.

As the group came at me, I flipped into the air, landing on the other side of them and flinging a fan of shadowy knives at the wolves and werewolves. The alpha avoided those near it, but the others took several hits, enraging them. One of the wolves darted forward using the magic trick Malk described, and I dodged to the side, sending a smaller fan at it as it landed. It howled with anger and pain, distracting me long enough for one of the werewolves to slash at my arm, leaving a line of inky energy.

I didn’t take the time to punish it, instead flipping backwards a few feet, guessing that another creature would try and attack me while I was distracted, like the werewolf did.

I was right, as the other wolf darted forward, darkness around it. In response, I enhanced my own speed, drew my sword, and held it out in front of me like a spear. The wolf hit the sword face-first, and the blade sank into its gullet, killing it. I slid the creature off the blade and flipped to the right as quickly as possible, to avoid falling victim to another attack.

I almost made it, but the alpha was faster, and barreled into me, a blade in one hand, magically enhanced claws in the other. We dueled, and I saw its three helpers rallying to attack me again.

Past the group I was fighting, I saw my friends battling for their lives. Malk dodged a werewolf’s claw before rolling forward to quickly stab a wolf in the side three times, critically wounding it. He dodged another attack, took a hit from a werewolf, and finished off the wolf he’d wounded.

Clary was fighting two wolves, and using illusions to disorient them. She’d subtly shift her appearance in their view enough that they hit each other, trees, or just missed. She saw an opening, and darted forward to cut the throat of one of the wolves with her dagger, while sending a small dart of darkness at the other’s leg.

Wabbit simply darted from shadow to shadow, letting loose with lashes of darkness or slashes of his augmented claws.

Back to my predicament, I had only a few seconds before I would fight all four of the creatures after my head. So, I came up with a plan.

As the alpha attacked again, I cast an illusion at the speed of thought, and quickly backed away, leaving it to fight a falsity. It wouldn’t take long for it to figure out the truth, but I only needed a moment.

As the wolf darted at my illusory form, I flew into the air and landed behind the alpha. It turned to face me, confused, and I cut off its head with magically enhanced speed. It had no chance to defend itself, and fell to the ground dead.

Then the two remaining attacked at once, the wolf on one side, the werewolf on the other. I twirled, my blade catching the wolf, knocking it aside and leaving a gash in its jaw. My hand came to rest on the werewolf’s chest. I grinned at it, and send a massive spike of dark energy surging out of my hand, tearing open its chest and obliterating its heart.

I laughed at the carnage, and stretched, filled with exhilaration and adrenaline. I sent a spike of darkness at the remaining wolf’s throat, killing it, and walked over to where my minions were fighting.

Of the ten that had attacked my friends/minions, only three remained, one werewolf and two wolves. I sent out tendrils of darkness to incapacitate the werewolf, while the others finished off the wolves.

I called out to the group, “Good to get those endorphins flowing, eh? I love a good fight.”

Malk replied, “I’m just glad it’s over,” and Clary nodded, but both had faces flush with excitement, so they probably enjoyed it and were just trying to disguise that.

I walked over to the werewolf, and brought it over to a tree, which I leaned against. I told it, “Talk. Uh, they can talk, right Malk?”

“Yes, most werewolves can speak.”

“Good, good. Anyways, wolf-boy, I want to know why your pack attacked us. It’s possible you were just attacking at random, but there are far better targets in these woods than three armed elementals and a rabbit that oozes power. Seriously, you wolves and werewolves are supposed to be smart enough to know whether an elemental is a weakling without power, or a Champion-level fighter and caster like me.”

The werewolf snarled, “Never! I still have honor!”

I grinned. It was always more fun when they resisted.

I grabbed his chin, stared into his eyes (which briefly flickered golden-brown, as all eyes flickered when I did this), and delved into his mind.

I told you I was a bit different from other elementals.

I found myself in a forest, one much like the one on Nyx, except there was a red circle in the sky with what looked like craters marring the surface. Strange. I looked around, and saw eyes glinting in the bushes, likely wolves like those in his pack. I walked forward along the path I was on and soon found myself at a crossroads.

There were three other paths to take, each with a sign. Checking the sky, I saw that I had come from the south. To the west, the sign was labeled Personality. To the east, Memory. To the north, Secrets.

I went west.

Oh, sure, what I needed to know why the pack had attacked. But how I wanted that to happen was a different matter entirely. It’s never enough to find information.

No, far better to have the victim give it to you.

I walked down the path, and found the walls of this path filled with swirling images, faint sounds, and more of those eyes. Soon, I found myself in a glade, a glade with four things.

In the center of the glade, a tree carved into the image of the pack’s alpha, who I had so recently decapitated.

To the north of the carving; a snarling, savage werewolf, pacing constantly, its eyes darting between the other three things in the glade.

To the southwest, a gleaming werewolf, standing tall, its arms at its sides.

To the southeast, a werewolf kneeling beside a wolf, the two leaning on each other.

Symbolism, obviously, all of it. The carving represented the creature’s subservience to its leader. The snarling werewolf represented its bestial fury and independence. The gleaming werewolf was its honor, and the union represented unity between the two groups.

These things would need to change.

First, I walked to the savage creature that represented independence, and I grabbed its throat, lifting it into the air. It snarled and kicked, but I had more power than it, and I threw it to the ground, weakening it. As it attempted to recover, I snapped my fingers, and chains of darkness sprung up, imprisoning the werewolf, shackling it.

Next, I walked over to the union, and sent spears of darkness into each creature, wounding them gravely. As they struggled to get up and attack, I sent out more tendrils, tearing them apart. I threw the pieces over to the snarling werewolf, for it to devour.

Then, I walked over to the gleaming one, and threw it to the ground, kicking it over and over again. When I had beaten it and broken it, I let it lie there, still alive but just barely.

Finally I came to the carving. I pressed my hand to the base of the carving, and darkness flowed up it, warping the wood and darkening it, changing it. When it had finished, the wooden carving was there no longer.

Instead, there was a black stone statue of me, tendrils of shadow caressing me and flowing from me.

I smiled, and flew from the glade, back to the crossroads. There, I saw that the path labeled Secrets was now gone. Laughing, I walked back along the south road, toward the exit. I took a deep breath, tasting briefly of the werewolf’s faint energy, and then left.

Emerging from the mind of the werewolf, I found it screaming, and I released its bonds, watching as it knelt before me, the screams subsiding.

“I ask again, whelp. Why did you and your kin attack me?”

The werewolf sniveled, and cried out, “Oh glorious Goddess, a thousand apologies for my actions and those of my once-brethren. We were here to defend the dungeon from any that possessed the power and skill to acquire the items within, while leaving alone those that are not capable of retrieving them. You, oh Goddess, were considered by yourself able to retrieve the items, and so we tried our best to stop you, in our foolishness. Mercy, oh Goddess, mercy!”

I smirked at the creature, and said, “Mercy? Mercy for the beast that defied a goddess? Very well. You shall have a merciful death, and thus not suffer the fury I would visit upon your living form.”

“Oh thank you Goddess, a thousand pardons and thanks, I-“

Its supplications cut off as I slit its throat, and gestured for Wabbit to enjoy. He did so, eating the werewolf’s arm. Luckily, he had a physiology similar to that of an elemental, as a result of me raising him, and infusing him with darkness from a young age.

I ate a bit of wolf to get some healing energy, and offered some for Malk and Clary. They refused, as ever mystified by my tendency to eat meat raw. I shrugged, healed my wounds, and we walked on.