The red-capped cylinder felt cold in Crispin's trembling hand. He twisted the cap; a hiss of escaping gas preceded a brilliant, crimson streak that tore into the pale sky. The flare hung high above the basalt cliffs, a solitary spark of defiance against the vastness of Eldir-Vahn. Crispin dropped the spent tube into his satchel and leaned against a jagged outcrop of rock. His ribs throbbed with every shallow breath.
Regulus did not wait for help to arrive. The creature slid from Crispin's side, his viscous blue-and-glass body shimmering under the sun. He moved toward the mangled ruin of the coastal serpent. The slime-wyvern's nucleus pulsed with hunger. He flowed over the serpent's shattered skull; his membranes secreted a thick, iridescent fluid that dissolved bone and scale alike.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Blueprint Unlocked: Coastal Wyvern
A guttural roar erupted from the creature. It was no longer the soft trill of a slime or the hiss of a scavenger. The sound was deep, resonant, and vibrated in Crispin's marrow. Regulus's body rippled, his mass shifted as he incorporated the serpent's predatory geometry. The midnight-blue scales hardened along his spine; his tail elongated, ending in the powerful, fluked taper of a leviathan.
The christened Coastal Wyvern launched himself into the air. His translucent wing membranes, now reinforced with sapphire-colored veins, beat against the salt air with surprising power. Letting out a series of triumphant squawks that echoed off the basalt walls, he circled the beach in wide, sweeping arcs. With his talons flashing, he dived into a nearby tide pool and came out with a silver-scaled fish wriggling in his maw. He dropped his catch at Crispin's feet and then dissolved it into his form.
He landed on Crispin's shoulder with a heavy, solid thud. Muscles and magic pressed against his neck. Regulus let out one final, ringing squawk of satisfaction.
Crispin reached down and gripped the Leviathan's Spine. The ivory-clad spear felt balanced; the serpent-teeth crown glinting like a promise. He wiped the dried salt and tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.
"Today is the first day of the rest of my life," Crispin whispered to the wind.
The words felt like an oath. No longer would he be the boy who apologized for his existence. He would be his father's son and his grandfather's greatest treasure. Descended from ancient blood, he was Aldyr, and he would no longer hide his heritage behind a bowed head.
He gathered large soul shards scattered among the crab husks and coastal serpent. They felt warm, vibrating with the trapped essence of the fallen beasts. He pressed them to his chest, the energy bleeding through his new black gambeson. Regulus reacted, pressing his own chest against Crispin's face.
The Heart of Perseus hummed. It was not a beat; it was a rhythmic, awkward thrumming that resonated through Crispin's sternum. The sensation was foreign and clunky, like a piece of machinery trying to find its gear, yet it caused him no fear. It felt like the beginning of a song he had yet to learn.
The sound of splashing water and heavy boots broke the silence. Kaelen appeared around the bend of the cliff, followed by ten burly sailors carrying long-handled hooks and heavy netting. The big man held a brass spyglass in one hand.
"I saw the flare and used my glass to check on ya," Kaelen called out, his voice booming over the roar of the surf. "Plenty of kills down here. I brought us some muscle to haul it back."
Crispin managed a weak smile.
"I hope you understand, boy," Kaelen said, eyeing the carnage. "We'll have to pay these men for their time from your profits."
"Of course," Crispin replied. "I'd have it no other way. We couldn't carry all this alone."
Kaelen's gaze traveled from the shattered crab shells to the remains of the leviathan. His eyes settled on the creature perched on Crispin's shoulder. He stopped mid-stride, his mouth hanging open.
"What in the bloody fires is that?" Kaelen whispered.
"Regy," Crispin said, his tone almost offhanded. "He's a Coastal Wyvern."
Regulus let out a sharp, affirmative squawk.
The walk back to the Tamer's Wharf was a slow procession of heavy burdens and triumphant shouting. The sailors hauled the serpent's hide and the massive crabs, their hooks digging into the tough chitin. Merchants and dockworkers gathered as the party entered the port, their murmurs growing into a low roar of awe.
By the time the sun dimmed and the soft, cool light of the night took hold, the bargaining was over. Crispin stood by the warehouse doors; his fingers moved through the coins in his pouch. The haul had been staggering. He counted out 7 Silver, 23 Allium, 12 Bronze, and 29 Copper.
Before they could depart, he called the ten men over. Into each of their palms, he dropped a single bronze coin.
"Thank you for the help," Crispin said, meeting each man's eye. "Please stay and eat with us; bring your families. There is plenty for everyone."
The sailors grinned, their initial skepticism replaced by genuine respect.
A scarred veteran with a grey beard, stumbled over with two wooden mugs. "Have some mead, boy!" the sailor laughed. "You've shared your crab with us, so we share our honey-wine."
Crispin laughed and accepted the mug. He hadn't sold the final Sunder-Claw Crab. Instead, he had given it to the wharf.
Fires were lit along the pier, casting long, flickering shadows against the white stone walls of the lower tier. Huge iron pots bubbled over the flames, filled with sea salt, spices, and massive chunks of crab. The smell of woodsmoke and steaming shellfish dominated the air.
The celebration was unlike anything Crispin had known in the quiet, judgmental halls of the upper city. Sailors played frantic, rhythmic tunes on fiddles and squeezeboxes. Women and children from the dockside families danced in swirling circles, their laughter blending with the music.
Crispin sank onto a bench next to Kaelen, his spear leaning against his knee. Regulus sat at his side, his midnight-blue scales reflecting the orange glow of the fire.
Kaelen's daughter—a young woman with hair the color of sun-bleached wheat—approached them. She carried two steaming wooden bowls filled with a mountain of crab meat, spicy sausage, cave-tatoes, and corn.
"Thanks, Crispin," she said, her eyes bright as she handed him the bowl. "After you eat, would you care for a dance?"
Crispin's heart hammered against the Heart of Perseus. "Uhhh..."
Kaelen reached over, his massive hand clamping Crispin's hanging jaw shut with a grin. "Tell her 'of course ya will,' boy."
Crispin smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."
He ate; the flavors of the feast were explosive and rich. He placed large chunks of succulent crab meat on the bench for Regulus, who chirped as he absorbed the meal. Crispin looked at the firelight, the dancing families, and the sailors' sharing stories of the hunt.
His heart overflowed. He could make the lives of others better just by being himself.