A gritty dryness clung to Vorlag’s tongue. Days bled into one another, marked only by the shifting light across the Obsidian Marches and the gnawing in his gut. He chewed on a strip of dried Shard-Stalker flesh, its fibrous texture resisting his teeth, a bitter tang coating his mouth. It offered sustenance, yet little comfort. His body moved with an unnerving economy. Each step, a measured glide over treacherous crystal, conserved moisture. Sweat was a luxury he could not afford. Even his breath, a shallow intake and slow exhalation, was carefully regulated. Earlier, Kaelen had scoffed. “Less a man, more a walking shard of ice.” Vorlag ignored him. He merely watched the older man’s broad back, a solid shape against the glittering horizon. Efficiency was not a choice; it was survival. Now, a faint tremor ran through the ground. It was not the usual subterranean grind of the Marches. This was different, a delicate resonance that spoke of deeper, hidden currents. Vorlag’s crystalline senses, sharpened by weeks of struggle, picked up on it. A subtle shift in the crystalline structure, a faint, almost imperceptible humidity in the air. A foreign presence within the desolate expanse. Kaelen continued his relentless pace, his heavy boots crunching on the obsidian. Vorlag noted the direction: precisely towards the source of the subtle anomaly. His mentor, a being of unimaginable power, missed nothing. Vorlag thought of Kaelen. A force, not a man. His abilities defied logic, reshaping the Marches with a casual gesture, carving through life with brutal grace. Vorlag wondered how much Kaelen held back, how many layers of power remained unseen. How far did Kaelen’s limits stretch? Vorlag hungered to know. Hours later, a vast, newly formed crevice bisected the landscape. Its jagged edges caught the light, gleaming like shattered mirrors. Climbing its sheer face was a dangerous endeavor, each foothold a razor-sharp gamble. Vorlag scaled it with practiced caution, his fingers finding purchase on crystalline protrusions, his feet hugging the slick, dark rock. At its peak, a breathtaking sight unfolded below. A pool of still, dark water lay nestled at the crevice’s base. Not a trick of light, not a mirage. Real water, reflecting the sky like a bruised eye. A Glimmer Pool, as rare and fleeting as a dream in the Obsidian Marches. Vorlag’s parched throat constricted. Every instinct screamed for him to rush forward, to plunge his face into the dark liquid. He had endured thirst for too long. A growl escaped him, primal and raw. He moved, a blur of motion, disregarding caution, scrambling down the crevice’s descent. He reached the edge, falling to his knees, his hands trembling as he plunged his face into the cool water. Sweet relief. The world narrowed to the taste of pure, unadulterated moisture. He drank deeply, mindlessly, until a faint, pulsating glow beneath the surface caught his eye. A soft, spherical light, deeper than the water’s dark surface, beckoning. Vorlag paused, mesmerized. His focus drifted, drawn in by the hypnotic shimmer. The light pulsed, growing brighter, closer. A hand seized the back of his neck, yanking him backward with bone-jarring force. Kaelen’s grip was like an iron clamp, tearing him away from the water’s edge. “Fool!” Kaelen’s voice, a whip-crack across the still air, snapped Vorlag out of his trance. “Careless idiot!” Just as Kaelen pulled him free, a monstrous form erupted from the Glimmer Pool. It was immense, a creature of plated crystal and writhing flesh, its body easily large enough to swallow a full-grown Shard-Stalker. A cavernous mouth, lined with obsidian teeth, dominated its head. Above it, a slender, crystalline antenna swayed, its tip glowing with the very light that had ensnared Vorlag. “A Glimmer-Maw,” Kaelen stated, his voice devoid of surprise. “It lures prey with that luminescence, then devours them whole.” Vorlag watched, dazed, as the colossal creature sank back into the pool. Its sheer size was terrifying, a silent predator hidden beneath the placid surface. He had been moments from oblivion. Kaelen unsheathed his Crag-Blade, a slab of blackened obsidian honed to impossible sharpness. “Stupidity will be the end of you, boy. Never let your guard down, not even for a sip of water.” Before Vorlag could respond, Kaelen moved. A blur of hardened muscle, he launched himself onto the Glimmer Pool’s surface. The Crag-Blade arced, slicing through the water with the force of a battering ram. A geyser of dark water erupted as the blade struck. The Glimmer-Maw, startled, tried to retreat to the depths. Kaelen would not allow it. He dove, a dark arrow piercing the water. A terrifying speed carried him through the murky depths. Cornered, the Glimmer-Maw turned, its massive maw opening to engulf Kaelen. It was a fatal mistake. The Crag-Blade, followed by Kaelen’s relentless momentum, pierced straight through the monster’s colossal body. The Glimmer-Maw convulsed once, a shudder that rippled the entire pool, then floated lifelessly to the surface. Kaelen emerged, dragging the immense carcass by its tail, throwing it with a sickening thud at Vorlag’s feet. Vorlag recoiled, stepping back from the dead monster. Even in death, its scale was staggering, its obsidian plates still menacing. Such a creature existing in this temporary haven was unbelievable. Kaelen plunged his Crag-Blade into the monster’s flesh. “This is a regular occupant of these Glimmer Pools. Lures the foolish and the desperate. You will flay it. Its hide is soft, yet durable, perfect for a robe.” “A robe?” Vorlag asked, bewildered. “For you, you insensate fool! Your mind is as barren as the Marches. Stop gaping and get to it.” Understanding dawned. Vorlag knelt beside the dead beast. Its underside was smooth, dark, and incredibly tough. His hunting knife, though sharp, barely scraped its surface. He channeled his inner strength, a surge of power flowing from his crystalline core into the blade. Obsidian resonated with obsidian. The knife, now alight with a faint, dark shimmer, sank into the Glimmer-Maw’s hide. With excruciating effort, Vorlag began the gruesome task. Hours passed. His body ached, sweat slicked his brow, but he cut, peeled, and separated the enormous hide. It was a battle against the monster’s inherent resilience. Working for half the day, he managed to skin the beast. Next, the robe. No thread, no needle. Vorlag scavenged a shard of bone from the Glimmer-Maw, grinding it against a rock until it formed a crude, sharp needle. For thread, he painstakingly peeled thin, sinewy strips from the monster’s internal tissues. His hands, usually instruments of destruction, now moved with a focused precision. By dusk, a rough, dark robe lay before him. It was clumsy, ill-fitting, but undeniably a garment. Meanwhile, Kaelen had systematically dismantled the rest of the creature, every part separated and laid out. Kaelen extended a hand. Flames erupted from his palm, not searing, but expertly cooking sections of the Glimmer-Maw’s flesh. A rich, earthy aroma filled the air, a scent Vorlag hadn't known was possible in the Marches. From the pile, Kaelen plucked a palm-sized organ, dark and glistening. The gallbladder. He tossed it to Vorlag. “Consume it,” Kaelen commanded. “Every last bit.” Vorlag eyed the raw organ with distaste. “Raw?” “It will temper your bone and muscle. A rare commodity. Eat, or I will force it down your gullet.” Knowing Kaelen’s threats were promises, Vorlag swallowed, his throat tightening. He bit into the gallbladder. It burst, a wave of bitter, earthy liquid filling his mouth. He gagged, but forced himself to chew, to swallow. The taste was abominable, yet as it slid down, a strange warmth bloomed in his stomach. It intensified. The warmth became a searing heat, spreading through his veins, into his bones. A torment beyond anything he had ever known. Vorlag gasped, a choked cry escaping him. He collapsed, rolling on the crystalline ground, every nerve screaming in protest. Agony. His body felt as if it were being torn apart from the inside, then reforged in an inferno. He screamed, soundless in the vastness of the Marches, writhing as Kaelen calmly ate cooked Glimmer-Maw meat nearby. Kaelen glanced at the Glimmer Pool. “This, too, will vanish. These oases are illusions, appearing and disappearing with the whims of the Marches. Though this Glimmer-Maw is slain, another will rise. The cycle endures.” Vorlag’s world dissolved into a maelstrom of pain. --- Morning dawned, painting the crystalline landscape in hues of bruised purple and cold silver. Vorlag stirred, a dull ache lingering in his core, but the searing torment was gone. He pushed himself up, a gasp catching in his throat. A vitality he had never felt coursed through him. His limbs felt solid, dense, almost unnaturally so. He flexed his arm. Muscles, previously lean, were now coiled and defined, like tightly bound wires beneath his crystalline skin. His very essence felt denser, stronger. The transformation was profound. Kaelen sat nearby, gnawing on a strip of cooked meat. “The medicine took well.” “The gallbladder… it caused this?” Vorlag asked, his voice rough. “A potent tonic. Nothing better to harden flesh and bone. You were a fragile thing.” Kaelen tossed him a piece of meat. “Eat. We will finish this beast.” Vorlag slipped on the newly made robe. A strange chill enveloped him. The Glimmer-Maw’s hide, so tough to cut, now offered a surprising insulation, radiating coolness against the crystalline air, shielding him from its sharp bite. “We remain here,” Kaelen announced. “Until this carcass is gone.” “All of it?” “Meat with such nutrient density is a rarity. We waste nothing.” For four sunrises and sunsets, they remained by the Glimmer Pool. Vorlag ate, his body absorbing the rich nourishment, growing stronger with each mouthful. The massive Glimmer-Maw diminished day by day, leaving only a pile of gleaming bones. Then, as if it had never been, the Glimmer Pool vanished. The fissures closed, the water receded, swallowed by the restless Marches. Only dry, jagged obsidian remained. Vorlag stood, the weight of his new strength grounding him. He looked at Kaelen, then at the empty chasm. A potent lesson. Life, growth, power, all bought at a cost, all fleeting. He was ready to face what came next.

The Glimmer Pool's Price