Page 92 of Feral Gods
"Wildspont influence," I explain as Zephyr eyes a particularly dramatic shift in the tunnel wall. "The deepest caverns exist in flux between physical reality and magical potential. The boundaries blur here."
"Fascinating," he murmurs, scholarly interest momentarily overriding survival concerns. "I'd theorized such environmentsmight exist, but never encountered documentation of actual instances."
"Less admiration, more movement," Ravik calls back, his transformed body navigating the narrowing passage with surprising grace despite his bulk. "They're gaining ground."
The sounds of pursuit grow louder behind us—not just physical movement but magical probes seeking our energy signatures. Morwen's connection to my blood gives her tracking advantages that conventional magic couldn't provide.
"She feels so close," I whisper to Zephyr as we round another bend. "Like she's breathing down my neck even though she's physically behind us."
"The blood connection," he confirms grimly. "Distance matters less than magical resonance in such cases."
A new voice speaks directly into my mind—not Morwen this time, but the Codex itself, communicating through our deepening bond. "Blood can shield as well as expose," it suggests. "The very connection she exploits can be reversed."
Understanding blooms instantly. I stop abruptly, drawing confused looks from my companions.
"I need a moment," I announce, dropping to one knee in the center of the passage. "I can slow her pursuit, but it requires concentration."
"We don't have time—" Thane begins, glancing anxiously toward the sounds of approaching forces.
"Make time," I counter, the Codex already open in my hands, its pages moving on its own to reveal instructions my conscious mind couldn't locate but my magical intuition recognizes instantly.
"Shield her," Ravik commands, understanding without explanation. He and Thane position themselves on either side of the passage while Zephyr crouches beside me, lending magical support without interfering.
The ritual requires little physical preparation but intense mental focus. Following the Codex's guidance, I reach for the blood connection between myself and Morwen—that unwanted tether that allows her to track us through solid stone. Rather than fighting it, I embrace it, following the connection backward to its source.
Her presence slams into my consciousness like a physical blow—ancient, powerful, coldly calculating as she directs her coven's pursuit. For one terrifying moment, she senses my intrusion, her attention swinging toward me with predatory focus.
"Clever child," her voice purrs in my mind. "But dangerous games have consequences."
Instead of retreating, I push deeper, using the very techniques the Codex reveals—techniques based on the principle that blood connection flows in both directions. If she can track me through our shared lineage, I can potentially affect her through the same channel.
"Blood of my blood," I intone, the words emerging instinctively rather than from conscious choice. "Power recognizes power, lineage acknowledges lineage. What flows one direction must flow the other."
I feel her alarm as the connection between us transforms from her tool to my weapon. The tracking spell she's maintained inverts, magical energy flowing back toward her instead of drawing her toward me.
"Stop this immediately," she commands, but the authority in her mental voice has diminished, uncertainty creeping in. "You cannot possibly control?—"
"I don't seek control," I correct, continuing the ritual with growing confidence. "Only balance. What you take, I return. What you send, I reflect."
With a final surge of will, I complete the working. The blood connection between us remains, but now acts as mirror rather than window—reflecting her magical probes back upon themselves, creating a disorienting feedback loop that will temporarily blind her tracking abilities.
"It's done," I announce, collapsing back into Zephyr's waiting arms as exhaustion claims its due. "We have perhaps an hour before she recalibrates."
"Then we move," Ravik decides, helping me to my feet with surprising gentleness. "Can you continue?"
I nod, tucking the Codex securely under my arm. "Lead on."
We press forward with renewed urgency, the passages growing increasingly strange as we descend. Crystalline formations sprout from walls and ceiling, their facets reflecting our passing forms in fragmented patterns. The air grows warmer, heavy with mineral scents and underlying magic that tingles against exposed skin.
"We're approaching the boundary," I announce as the Codex feeds me recognition signals. "The sacred zone begins where the crystal density reaches a specific threshold."
"And how will we know when—" Thane begins, then stops abruptly as we round a final bend.
Before us stretches a vast cavern unlike anything I've ever seen or imagined. The ceiling soars hundreds of feet overhead, encrusted with massive crystal formations that glow with inner light in every color imaginable. The floor drops away in terraced levels, each supporting what appears to be a small city—buildings carved directly from living crystal, connected by delicate bridges spanning rainbow-hued chasms.
And everywhere, moving with sinuous grace among the crystalline structures, are the vrakken—beings I'd known only through terrifying legends whispered among slaves. Their serpentine lower bodies support humanoid torsos covered iniridescent scales. Multiple arms—four to six depending on the individual—move with hypnotic coordination as they conduct their inscrutable business among the crystal towers.
"The Undercity," Zephyr breathes, scholarly awe momentarily overriding caution. "I never believed it truly existed."
