The awakening—was I not awake before? I did not know. The cocoon of crystallized magic was stupid, but it was the only way to stay close to my body. I was sure no one had tried this before. But I was so angry—damn it! I did not know what drove orcs to be so bloodthirsty. I supposed it was in their veins. The problem was I lost my temper. I was not someone who should act on impulse, and I did. Because of me, the Lich's attacks increased—I was sure. I thought.
The bad thing about being in this cocoon was that I recognized nothing of my surroundings. These Blackcaps did the elves' work with great neatness. Each stone was prepared to absorb whatever magic I tried to generate. My field was concentrated—something I did not understand. It was a corporeal manifestation of my magical field. I had spoken with the Overlord about the theory. But knowing myself so weak—after almost losing consciousness from punishing those orcs, then having my consciousness reduced to something floating—I looked for the experienced warriors while being transported. But I only recognized two small minds—the first generations of succubus and incubus children.
When they were born, no one believed it. The elves' modifications were supposed to be permanent and planned so we would not have offspring. But several of our people sought children—not for the concept of having them; they really wanted to be parents. Yet it did not work. All women of this new species, when pregnant, carried for four months, had twins, and after that... died. All, without exception. I tried many times—controlling growth, absorption. I gave the succubi magical supplements and hundreds of men to "feed" from. But it did not work. The growth was abnormal, and for a four-month twin fetus to have the growth of a nine-month one, it consumed the mother. So at birth, only a shell of what was once the mother remained. For the moment, I kept calm. My species increased even if slowly. Incubi were only allowed to impregnate if their partner was a succubus and she accepted she would die in childbirth. Until now, they accepted. Yet there was not much to do with their children.
Thris and Puck were children of the first generation. In less than five years, they already doubled their appearance in age. They were intelligent, but like all adopted children, a little shy. The difference between them was barely thirty minutes, but they always recognized who was the elder. They had been spying on the goblin camp—I supposed because of their innate curiosity, their species' own desires. The detail was that they heard me. Neither said no. Their mother died without a real partner, so several people cared for them. None felt comfortable with the desire these children emanated, but faithful to me, they avoided touching them. I educated them with my mind as much as I could. I taught the elder to read, but now I was teaching her to write elven runes. My mind floated all this time. I knew what they did to keep up, and thanks to the Lich's attacks, they managed to advance the caravan and arrive at the city with much time to spare. Yet I lost sight of them. My ability to feel them was limited inside the cocoon I made. I hoped they survived—not for my salvation, but because they were precious to me.
We passed through many villages. In each, they displayed their trophy, attacked me, and I pretended it hurt. But simple magic like theirs could do nothing to penetrate the shield. The soul stones, on the other hand—those pieces of garbage kept trying to drain any speck of magic I attempted. The runes were difficult—elven in nature, my knowledge of human magic did not serve me. Yet it was easy to make a dictionary. To achieve it, I only had to see the things they brought the Blackcaps to charge. Many were elven in nature, so I could see each thing—the rune of light, of shadow, of movement. The writing itself seemed more conceptual than communicative. I reviewed the tangle of letters composing each stone. They were clones of one another. Their commands were to store. Once full, they sent the magic elsewhere—I imagined where. But for now, I had to keep learning.
We arrived at the city where the Blackcaps were based. It was a miserable village. They had no interest in agriculture, education, or even a good waste system. I saw manure from many animals paving the roadway. I did not doubt some of that dung was human. To my relief, I felt them—there, those two little ones! They made it!
From there, I had a couple of new miracles. Their leader—the only one with enough sense to see if something was wrong—got tired of using his magic against me and left to find true mages. In his absence, I began to influence all around me—little by little, because I could not use magic on them either. Only small commands—simple things they would do of their own will, like hiring my little ones. So at a smaller distance, I made them learn everything I knew of runes, how they were placed. Probably neither they nor I would write a poem about the flowers of dawn on the moon beach. But it was not necessary. With what little they learned, I made them approach, read what was in their libraries—old libraries they probably stole from their headquarters. Each time with greater haste, because a very dire fate awaited us if the Blackcap returned with some truly harmful magic. I was not egotistical enough to feel invincible.
The night I went out, I was still looking for how to free myself. The runes were ready. The things made of souls—what a bastard thought souls were a good source of magic, only an elf—only waited for me to charge enough magic to break them out of their cycle of stealing mine. But I could not—not from there. Every time a minuscule fraction of the crystal broke off, it was immediately absorbed by those stones. I could overload them, but I would be too weak to face all the Blackcaps. Lost in these thoughts, a wild gust flooded me. It was not possible! That should only happen if the runes were reversed. That would make the magic of those marked feed me along with all the power accumulated by the stones. For the first time, I could extend my consciousness without fear. But I had barely advanced a few meters when I wished I had not.
I was still trapped in my cocoon—nothing that a few minutes of concentration would not achieve. But apparently there was no time. Outside were my children... my little ones were agonizing! I could not believe they would sacrifice themselves like this—not like this! I did not want to survive if they died! Thris! Little one, you have already left us. Puck still lives! He is very wounded but alive. If I break this protection, the attack must leave several humans dead in its path... including the little one. No! There had to be another solution. I had seconds. My protection dissolved and integrated into my field. That and the magic helped me accelerate everything. But someone superior was coming. I had to finish now!
I saw him arrive and begin scolding the naked mages who were lending me their magic. Seeing Puck, he recognized him. He did not have the power, so it must be some device—he was going to kill him! I could see the determination in his small head. He was not protected—no one here was defending themselves from mental attacks. I tried a test. I marked an illusion—just two meters to his right. The fellow did not even notice. He launched a flame at what he thought was little Puck. That gave me seconds. He kept preparing more magic. They were definitely brutes but had power, not counting the force coming—the Blackcap leader was almost here.
I had deflected almost all the attacks. In the process, the Blackcap secretary had killed two of his students—I could not do otherwise. He knew Puck was alive and was determined to eliminate him. So I decided to explode the few fragments I had left. It was ridiculous—he kept trying to kill a child while I freed myself. At no moment did he turn to look at me; he kept attacking, like a beast without reason. The explosion was small. Yet I saw with pain that some splinters embedded in the little incubus's face... that enraged me! I shouted at the secretary to flee where my fury could not reach him, that not a hundred of his family would quench my bloodthirst, my wrath. The man wanted to launch some magic but thought better of it and retreated to the room's entrance. I had no time for him. I knelt at full speed, but I could not use any healing magic. The poor boy was already in my hands. I felt his life fading. There was nothing I could do!
Frustration consumed me. Black flames surrounded me, licking the stone floors as if they were logs soaked in oil. It did not matter! These bastards had done harm in the forest! They had harmed my children! No one had power over me at this moment. All would burn! A little hand took my scaly arm. It was Puck. His voice shook me: "Did we save you, Mother?" he asked.
I told him yes, but they did not have to suffer. We could have found something that freed me and kept them alive.
"For what, Mother? We are alive because you helped us get here. We are products that should not exist in this life. But you gave us love. I felt loved since I met you. What is wrong with dying for that?"
I wanted to answer, wanted to restore him. My magic crackled, but I could not—because of the elven curse, I could not. I hated them more now than when they changed me. Before, at least I carried the misery alone. Now I carried two innocent deaths.
When the human arrived wielding his magic—his changing hand, launching fire and lightning spells at where I was supposed to be—I let him be. Lovingly, I moved the bodies to a quiet corner. My illusion made him keep seeing me on the pedestal. Good. I hoped he kept attacking me, kept insulting me, kept thinking he was a great mage. I would take care of him. I wanted to eliminate all this garbage he called a guild. But I had a better idea. He would help—those he hated, those he despised. He would serve to keep the weak dark beings from dying in this useless conflict... he had better.
ety.