Ash clung to Kael’s tongue, a perpetual companion. Chewing on the tough, dried flesh of a Cinder Wolf, he felt its gritty presence. Years spent traversing the Sootfall Expanse had honed his senses, turning sustenance into a ritual of necessity. This jerky, once plump muscle, had shriveled to a leathery strip, every drop of moisture baked out by the pervasive heat of Aethelred. Its faint, acrid scent was a minor complaint. Hunger, at least, was a memory. Enough remained in his pack to ward off the gnawing void, a lean, ungenerous bounty. Water, however, was another matter. Each dawn, dew gathered on the ash-dusted ridges, a meager offering. Kael knelt, scraping droplets into his cupped palm, enough to wet his throat. For the rest of the day, a dull thirst gnawed. Early on, the deprivation had been a torment. Now, it was simply his state of being. He had learned to guard every breath, every bead of sweat. Rarely did Kael speak, his voice a luxury. Even his movements through the soft, yielding ash were minimized, a slow, deliberate shuffle. Walking across the wastes, Kael appeared almost static. The ash seemed to carry him, a phantom borne on an invisible current. Malakar, his mentor, had once grumbled, a low rumble of dry amusement. “The whelp moves like a ghost. Found a new trick, it seems. While some sweat rivers, he drifts.” Malakar, ancient and unforgiving, understood. In this world of dust and perpetual twilight, Kael’s burgeoning ability to command the ash offered a strange advantage. Low-ranked among the Ash Weavers, his potential hummed beneath the surface, a growing power in the heart of desolation. Malakar, trudging ahead, seemed oblivious to the unfairness of it all. Yet, Kael knew better. His gaze lifted, scanning the bruised sky, forever tinged orange by distant, smoldering peaks. Moisture. A faint, almost imperceptible whisper in the air. Once, Kael wouldn’t have noticed. But Malakar’s tutelage, the brutal lessons of survival in the waste, had sharpened his every perception. His senses, now honed like obsidian, caught the metallic tang, the subtle shift in the arid air, a breath of something other than dust. Kael glanced at Malakar’s broad back. The older man moved with purpose, an unerring trajectory. Malakar led them, by design or chance, towards the source of that nascent moisture. A bitter smile touched Kael’s lips. Not chance. Never with Malakar. That monster knew. Knew exactly what Kael had perceived, and more. ‘Monster’ felt too small a word for Malakar, whose power defied understanding, blurring the line between man and legend. Kael often wondered at the true depths of Malakar’s abilities, suspecting the displays he witnessed were mere ripples on a vast, dark ocean. ‘What are his limits?’ Kael thought, a cold curiosity stirring within him. Suddenly, the ash-choked horizon rose, forming a colossal dune. Wind-sculpted, its peak shimmered in the twilight glow. Newly formed, Kael observed. The Sootfall Expanse, for all its timeless desolation, was in constant flux. His connection to the ash, his awakening as an Ash Weaver, granted him a silent dialogue with the shifting sands. Struggling over the dune’s crest, a breathtaking sight unfolded. Below, nestled in a hollow carved by ancient forces, lay a pool of dark, still water. A Murkwell. The rarity of such a find was staggering. The promise of unlimited drink, a forgotten luxury, stole Kael’s reason. He had endured thirst for so long. Now, faced with such abundance, control shattered. Rushing forward, Kael stumbled down the slope, his usual measured steps abandoned. Malakar clicked his tongue, a low, disapproving sound. He watched Kael’s reckless descent with an almost bored disdain. Reaching the Murkwell’s edge, Kael plunged his face into the cool, dark water. He drank, gulping in great desperate drafts. The cold rush against his parched throat brought an overwhelming, almost painful happiness. Drinking blindly, a faint light caught Kael’s eye, a soft glow from the depths. A spherical shape, luminous like a dim ember, pulsed beneath the surface. Forgetting the water filling his mouth, Kael stared, mesmerized. His focus blurred, a strange compulsion taking hold as the light drifted closer. “Whelp! Snap out of it, you idiot!” Malakar’s voice, sharp as a whip-crack, cut through the haze. Rough hands seized Kael’s back, yanking him upward. Malakar’s strength was undeniable. Kael fell backward, sprawling on the damp ash. In that instant, something massive erupted from the water. A creature of nightmare, its body vast enough to swallow a Cinder Wolf whole. Its oversized mouth dominated its frame, framed by rows of needle-like teeth. From its forehead sprouted an antenna, tipped with a round, fleshy globe. This was the light Kael had mistaken for salvation. “A Glow-Fin,” Malakar stated, his voice devoid of surprise. “Lures the foolish with its light. Devours them whole.” Kael, gasping, stared at the retreating form of the Glow-Fin as it submerged. His expression was dazed. Without Malakar, he would have been swallowed, a fleeting meal for the Murkwell’s silent hunter. Drawing his Cinder Edge, Malakar’s weapon, a blade forged from compressed ash, he spoke. “Fools like you grow reckless once they gain a sliver of sense. Do you understand, whelp?” Malakar didn’t wait for an answer. His body shot across the water’s surface, a dark streak. He swung the Cinder Edge downwards towards the Glow-Fin, still attempting to dive. Water exploded skyward, a geyser of dark liquid, as if a bomb had detonated beneath. Frightened, the Glow-Fin tried to escape into the deeper, murkier parts of the pool. Malakar granted it no reprieve. Plunging into the water, the Cinder Edge leading the way, he became a torpedo of vengeance. The Glow-Fin, realizing escape was futile, turned, its massive mouth gaping, attempting to engulf Malakar. A fatal error. The Cinder Edge, with Malakar behind it, pierced straight through the monster. An enormous shudder ripped through the Glow-Fin. Then, it went still, floating lifelessly on the water’s dark surface. Malakar grabbed its thick tail, dragging the immense carcass from the Murkwell. He tossed the Glow-Fin’s body, a mountain of black scales and pale belly, at Kael’s feet. Kael instinctively recoiled. Even in death, a terrifying aura clung to the beast. Such a monstrous creature, lurking in this hidden pool, seemed an impossible truth. Malakar embedded the Cinder Edge into the monster’s flesh. “Consider this the inhabitant of such rare pools. It lures fools like you. So, don’t stick your head into the next Murkwell you find, you empty-headed bastard!” Guilt tightened Kael’s throat. “It won’t happen again.” “Are you deaf?” Malakar barked. “Skin it. The Glow-Fin is a useful beast. Its hide is soft, yet durable. Perfect for robes. Cut it up. Make yourself one.” “You need a robe?” Kael asked, bewildered. “Not for me, idiot! For you! Is your mind turning to ash? You’re not cursed with petrification, are you?” Finally grasping Malakar’s intent, Kael quickly rolled the Glow-Fin onto its side. Its back was covered in brownish, uneven protrusions, its belly a smooth, black expanse. But the skin was incredibly tough. His dagger, though sharp, barely scratched the surface. Kael sighed, then channeled his nascent ash-power into the blade, its edge hardening, growing impossibly keen. With renewed effort, he began to cut. Sweat beaded on Kael’s brow, stinging his eyes. The task was far from over. He still had to craft the robe. No needle existed that could pierce this hide. Even if one did, it would be useless against such massive sheets of skin. Kael thought for a moment, then carefully extracted a long, slender bone from the monster’s fin. He sharpened its tip, creating a makeshift needle. For thread, he painstakingly sliced thin, resilient strips from the Glow-Fin’s tough, outer shell. Fortunately, Kael possessed a natural dexterity. He had never made a robe. But half a day later, after hours of painstaking effort, something resembling a garment lay before him. While Kael labored, Malakar methodically butchered the Glow-Fin’s carcass. Every part held value. Its meat, surprisingly devoid of poison, promised a rich flavor. The most prized part, the large, green gallbladder, Malakar held in his palm. He tossed the quivering sac to Kael. “Eat it,” Malakar commanded. Kael blinked. “Raw?” “Yes! Best thing for weaklings like you. Eat every bit.” A low growl punctuated Malakar’s words. “Refuse, and I’ll force it down myself.” “I’ll eat it.” Kael knew Malakar never made idle threats. With a grimace, his brow furrowed deeply, he bit into the Glow-Fin’s gallbladder. He chewed with exaggerated effort, fearing Malakar might accuse him of lacking conviction. Pride, a fragile thing in the Sootfall, evaporated with each repulsive bite. Fortunately, the gallbladder required little chewing. It dissolved in his mouth, a bitter, earthy taste, then slid down his throat. But no satiation followed. Even after consuming the entire organ, Kael’s stomach felt empty, hollow. “Fascinating,” Kael murmured to himself, then his expression seized. A sudden, searing heat erupted in his stomach. Unimaginable agony tore through him. Kael screamed, collapsing to the ground, writhing in the ash, every muscle clenching, spasming. Malakar, ignoring Kael’s plight, expertly carved slices of the Glow-Fin’s meat. Flames erupted from his hands, a brief, intense blaze, cooking the flesh to perfection in moments. Chewing on the savory meat, Malakar glanced towards the Murkwell. “This, too, will vanish,” he muttered. Murkwells were fickle things. Illusions in the ash. Appearing one day, relocating through the dust-shrouded expanses, vanishing the next. Their capricious nature defied human prediction. The Glow-Fin, once ruler of this particular Murkwell, was dead. Yet, another would eventually rise. Glow-Fins always laid their eggs within the pools they inhabited. When a ruler died, new offspring were born, perpetuating the grim cycle. But for an offspring to reach the size of the monster Malakar had slain, a century, at least, would pass. Meanwhile, Kael continued to scream, rolling in the ash. Malakar simply sneered, a flicker of contempt in his ancient eyes. Kael regained consciousness the next morning. Opening his eyes, a jolt of surprise coursed through him. A vitality he had never known sang in his veins. His body felt different. His previously lean frame, accustomed to scarcity, had transformed. Not into bulky masses, but dense, corded muscle, each fiber as taut and strong as forged wire. Kael was speechless, staring at his altered limbs. Beside him, Malakar sat, calmly eating Glow-Fin meat. “What… happened to me?” Kael’s voice was rough. “Your body took the medicine well,” Malakar grunted. “The Glow-Fin’s gallbladder was… medicine?” “A rare and valuable one. Nothing better for strengthening muscle and bone.” “Thank you,” Kael said, the words quiet, “for such a precious thing.” “Hmph. What choice did I have? Carrying a weakling like you is tiresome.” Malakar tossed a piece of cooked meat to Kael. “Eat this. Prepare to move.” First, Kael donned the robe he had crafted yesterday. The moment the tough, pliant skin touched his own, a strange chill spread over him. The Glow-Fin’s hide, rather than trapping heat, radiated a cool, insulating property, shielding him from the oppressive warmth of the Sootfall. Kael gasped, utterly surprised by its unexpected efficacy. “We remain here,” Malakar announced. “Until the Glow-Fin is gone.” “Eat it all?” Kael asked. “Meat with such nutrition is rare in the wastes. We waste nothing.” At this point, Kael thought, Malakar could tell him ash flowers bloomed in the Sootfall, and he might believe it. For four days, they feasted on the Glow-Fin. The enormous monster dwindled, leaving only bleached bones behind. They consumed every edible part. Then, as if it had never been, the Murkwell vanished. No trace remained, swallowed back by the shifting ash. Without a backward glance, the two continued their vigil across the desolate expanse. ---

The Murkwell's Price