TORIN YOUTH - CHAPTER 07: INTO THE UNKNOWN

The night after Khariklo’s warning, in the western reaches of the island near Rainbow Hills, the moon casts its light over the wilderness below.

Cadmeia moves slowly and carefully on all fours through the forest. On this side of the island, the forests are smaller and less dense—not ideal for providing a giant predator with many places to hide and stalk her prey. But with practice and by allowing the Vixen’s instincts to guide her, Cadmeia has become a capable hunter. She only wishes she had not.

As she searches the forest for a meal, she groans, thinking to herself.

“The hunger… it’s too strong… the villagers’ crops aren’t enough… I need something else… to stop the hunger pangs… to satisfy this body… I need… meat.”

Perhaps her hunger is making her a little too desperate and impatient, leading her potential prey to detect her presence. The animals of suitable size to eat have so far been able to hide themselves well.

However, ahead of her, several small humans hike up a hill through the forest.

Cadmeia studies them.

Their attire looks completely alien. She can tell that they are visitors to the island from a civilization more advanced than those here—perhaps even from another world. Two appear equipped for treasure hunting, carrying large bags and cases. Four others carry objects held like weapons and are likely mercenaries hired for protection.

Whether here by chance or by intention, they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Cadmeia is overcome with an intense craving.

“…I can’t… think straight…”

“…too hungry…”

The fox giantess sprints forward, and her gigantic form bursts from the shadows.

Before the mercenaries can aim their rifles, the Vixen pounces, knocking them to the ground. One she catches in her mouth, two in her hands.

She hastily swallows her first catch, then eyes the humans in her grasp. The man in her right hand—a treasure hunter—screams in terror as he watches the bulge in the giantess’s throat travel down until it disappears into her chest.

He barely has a moment to consider his own fate before the Vixen’s mouth engulfs him.

She wastes no time swallowing him as well. She must move quickly—the others are getting away.

The victim in her left hand pleads pitifully for her life, yet hunger overpowers Cadmeia’s sympathy.

She silences the female mercenary’s cries as she stuffs her into her mouth, gulping her down in a hurry.

The swift giantess moves forward in a blur.

Though she has lost sight of the other mercenaries, the remaining treasure hunter they abandoned makes a sorry display of physical fitness and is promptly captured by the enormous predator.

She settles onto her knees as she lifts her final catch from the ground in her hand.

Raising the man above her head, she rolls out her tongue beneath his feet.

Suddenly, Cadmeia comes to herself.

Tears well in her eyes.

Her hand begins to tremble.

“I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “But I can’t stop myself.”

She lowers the screaming man into her mouth, unable to deny her gigantic form what it demands.

Echoing cries in the forest go silent as she swallows him whole.

Sadness washes over her as an awful realization strikes.

“Oh god, no…”

“…I want more.”

The next morning, Cadmeia sleeps beneath a tree just outside the village of Arimas Piinu as dawn breaks. Nearby, gigantic torogriffs patrol the perimeter, ridden by watchful Laiko warriors. The low sounds of their grunting and snorting, along with the thudding of their slow pacing, awaken the giantess.

She opens her eyes to observe her surroundings.

The sky is warming yet still dark, as the sun has only just begun to chase the night away.

With impeccable timing, Sophean approaches and gently greets her.

“Joyous Rising, Will of Utalle,” he says.

The hybrid fox giantess slowly focuses her eyes on the tiny Laiko man approaching her face.

“Joy… joyous rising, Sophean,” she replies, sitting up and yawning.

She places a hand over her belly, confused about what happened overnight. Her hunger has subsided, which only causes her more concern.

“I don’t remember coming back. Was it a dream?” she asks herself while taking hold of her three tails and hugging them against her chest. “What does it matter? It’s getting worse… the Vixen is taking control of this body away from me.”

“The harder you fight for control, the harder she fights back, I would guess,” Sophean says, nodding. “But the day has come for our departure.”

“Not a day too soon,” Cadmeia says emphatically.

Sophean chuckles. “We could not let the Will of Utalle leave us without giving her a proper celebration after being our guardian for so many years.”

“I don’t do well with goodbyes,” she says.

“But your children need to hear it,” the Laiko man insists.

Cadmeia smiles softly. “Yes… they do. How could I forget again? Though, to be fair, these are Utalle’s children. I’m just filling in for now.”

“That may be true, but they see you as their mother since Utalle chose you to inhabit her body,” Sophean assures her. “If I may make a confession: Utalle was a mighty warrior and fiercely protective of her children, but I’ve never seen her show the same tenderness that you possess. That is something they will certainly miss in their guardian.”

Cadmeia quietly reflects on Sophean’s words for a brief moment.

“When I return, I will still love and care for these people as much as I can, only I won’t have this gigantic body,” she says.

“I know. That’s who you are,” Sophean replies with a nod. “Come, let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

The giantess rises and carefully lifts Sophean into her hands before heading into the village.

At the center of the village, the people gather around the enormous ceremonial circle, which is marked with a large spiral in the center and illuminated by torches and caeli crystals.

As Cadmeia carefully makes her way toward the gathering, she hears the sound of instruments playing. Her ears flick with delight. Her three tails sway to the rhythm.

The Laiko people peer up at the towering fox giantess as she finds a place among them, offering the traditional morning greeting.

“Joyous rising!”

Cadmeia sits with her legs folded in front of her, resting her hands on her ankles, gently swaying to the rhythm of the music.

The villagers sing in unison, repeating, “I will rise. The light in me will shine.”

A Laiko woman with long, flowing white hair plays a drum at the center of the circle, surrounded by dancers.

An angelic voice rises above the familiar chorus.

It arrests Cadmeia’s mind and heart at once, stopping her mid-sway. She has heard the voice before, but never like this.

Atreus is guided into the center of the circle by the white-haired Laiko woman, who circles him as she plays her drum. He sings the entire song alone as the other voices fall silent, waiting to follow.

“I will rise

The light in me will shine

The hope in me survives

The life I live is mine

The world in which I stay

Is different than it was yesterday

The path I take

Each day I wake

Is to love my neighbor

And each moment savor

As a heart’s wish into the wind is blown

I venture always into the unknown

As a heart’s wish into the wind is blown

I venture always into the unknown”

The villagers resume singing as one.

“I will rise. The light in me will shine.”

Cadmeia’s eyes fill with tears of pride.

“What a wonderful gift,” she whispers to herself.

The sky brightens as the celebration winds down.

The villagers remain in a joyous mood as they prepare for the rest of their day.

When they see Cadmeia, they smile warmly at the giantess.

“Thank you, Will of Utalle,” they say. “May your journey be fruitful.”

Cadmeia lingers in the village center for nearly an hour, keeping herself busy among the people who look to her as their mother.

She often looks out for Atreus, unsure where he has gone.

He remains among the performers near the home of the Laiko woman who sang with him.

The young white-haired woman speaks to him, knowing more than he does about why the celebration took place that day.

“Thanks for letting me know this was a going-away party,” Atreus says with a playful grin. “At least someone around here is being forthright.”

“Will you be returning to us?” she asks.

Atreus shakes his head slightly. “I wish I knew, Maki.”

“Is there… someone else?” she asks, swaying her white tail slowly.

The boy pauses as he thinks of a girl far away.

“Maybe,” he says with a hopeful smile.

Maki gently takes his hand and bids him farewell.

“Well then. Safe travels, Atreus.”

Meanwhile, Sophean leisurely strolls through the village, returning to the Ceremonial Circle as the gathering finally winds down. While most of the villagers have left and gone about their day, he finds that Cadmeia is still lingering there.

“No sign of the offspring yet?” he asks.

Cadmeia sighs. “I thought he might come and see me sooner.”

“He appears to be making good friends now,” the man says with a knowing smile. “And more, perhaps.”

“I saw,” Cadmeia admits. “That’s why I’m waiting for him to come to me.”

Just as Cadmeia’s impatience begins to show on her face, despite her efforts to mask it, Sophean brings good news.

“Ah—here he comes,” the Laiko man says as Atreus approaches.

Cadmeia sighs again, this time in relief, with a smile gracing her face.

Atreus approaches with his gear packed and strapped to his back, wearing his legionnaire red tunic and grey trousers once more. He has left behind the heavier pieces of armor he no longer feels he needs.

“Joyous rising, Mother,” he says with a wide smile. “Sophean…”

Sophean nods and returns the smile, happy to hear the greeting.

“Joyous rising, son of Cadmeia.”

“So, we’re leaving, huh?” Atreus asks his mother.

The fox giantess kneels, resting her hands in her lap.

“Yes,” she says. “I know… I have a lot to explain.”

Atreus smirks. “Yeah, it would be nice to know where we’re going and why.”

Cadmeia takes a deep breath and exhales to steady herself.

With cautious optimism that Atreus will be happy to hear her plan, she explains, “I know of a way to become human again. There is an artifact on an island with the power to transform me. I want you to come with me.”

The words hit Atreus like a heavy stone and stagger him. He lowers his head as he tries to process it all.

Cadmeia bends down, wishing she could go low enough to see his expression.

To her relief, he does not look angry when he raises his head again. However, his expression is far from happy.

“Are you serious?” he asks with concern in his voice. “You can actually become human again?”

“Y-yes,” the giantess answers.

Atreus shakes his head slightly, feeling troubled.

“I can’t imagine what it would be like to see your face… your human face… again,” he says. “It feels… like there’s a catch somewhere. It can’t be as easy as it sounds.”

“It won’t be easy—there’s a difficult journey to reach the island,” Cadmeia replies.

“That still sounds too simple,” Atreus insists. “What do you need me for? You mentioned something about a friend telling you to find me, didn’t you?”

Cadmeia bites her lip, hesitating to speak.

“It’s because I want you to be there when I regain my humanity,” she finally answers.

Atreus gazes into the giantess’s uncertain yet determined heterochromic eyes. He questions her judgment a little but decides to throw caution to the wind in the end.

“Ah, what the hell,” he says. “If becoming human again will make you happy, I’ll go with you!”

“Oh, thank you,” Cadmeia says, sounding as if a heavy weight has been lifted off her chest.

Atreus then looks to Sophean with concern for the villagers.

“Will your people be okay without her as their guardian?” he asks.

Sophean answers calmly, “We still have our mighty torogriffs to fend off threats. And I’m sure that Utalle will find a way to come back to us. She chose the Will, so whatever the Will desires, we accept.”

“Sophean will join us on our journey,” Cadmeia adds.

Atreus’s eyes widen upon hearing that. He pauses as he takes it all in.

“I see,” he says. “That’s… comforting, actually.”

Cadmeia smiles warmly at him, happiness swelling within her.

“It’s finally happening,” she exclaims, holding out her hands for the two tiny figures to climb onto. “I’m going to be me again!”

She rises carefully, using her three tails to steady herself, and lifts Atreus and Sophean onto her shoulders.

“We’re off to Helicon Island,” she says, smiling widely.

As she leaves the village, she waves goodbye to the Laiko people with tears in her eyes. Villagers of all ages meet her on the way to bid her farewell.

“Have a fruitful journey, Will of Utalle! Thank you for everything!”

The day goes on.

Far away, in the northern reaches of the island to the east, the giant drider Khariklo walks through the forest on her many spider legs.

With the day warm and sunny, she wears a beautiful white Victorian-style dress that nearly hides her black spider legs and their white stripes. A wide hat shades her pale skin.

The members of Team Three ride comfortably on her prosoma, just behind her human torso. They are wearing their armor once again now that they have left the drider’s home.

Sitting between Leon and Rhea, Bia tries to keep everyone’s spirits up by singing a song, counting down as she repeats the verses.

“Eight hundred one bottles of Icarus-ale on the wall.

Eight hundred one bottles of Icarus-ale.

Take one down and pass it around,

Eight hundred bottles of Icarus-ale on the wall.”

Only Khariklo seems interested in keeping up with Bia’s valiant effort.

“What a catchy jingle,” she comments. “Icarus-ale… that wouldn’t happen to be made from the infamous Icarus plant, would it? That would be quite a potent beverage.”

“Yep, it is,” Bia answers. “Rumor has it if you drink enough, you’ll grow wings.”

Khariklo laughs. “That would be fitting for you Torinians. Your biology is already diverging from that of other humans. Given enough years in close proximity to harpies, you could very well become an entirely new subspecies of human.”

The drider stops after they enter a clearing and examines her surroundings.

“Why did we stop?” Bia asks, looking around the wide-open space.

Khariklo raises a hand above her head and exhales, serenity washing over her expression.

“I am searching for the path that will take you to Atreus,” she says as luminous threads appear around her.

The three Torinians watch, wishing they could see what her eyes see.

Khariklo takes hold of a thread gently flowing in the breeze.

“Ah—there it is.”

She follows it, carefully holding the thread as she walks.

After about twenty minutes, the drider stops again.

“We have reached the end of the thread,” she says.

Rhea watches Khariklo closely with uncertainty etched across her face.

“If this… power of yours fails,” she says quietly, “then maybe what you said about the Fire of Transformation can’t be trusted either.”

Khariklo’s expression tightens, annoyance flickering across her face.

“Leon, sweetheart,” she says coolly, “please encourage your dear cousin to show some patience.”

Leon turns his head toward Rhea on the other side of Bia, hoping he still sees the same girl who once listened to his words.

“Rhea… please,” he says.

The strawberry-blonde girl stares ahead as if she hears nothing, though Leon knows she is too close not to have heard him.

He becomes aware that he is seated to Rhea’s left—the same side of her head still wrapped in bandages from the loss of her eye. Her blind side.

“It’s no use,” he says quietly. “I hope she’ll listen to someone else.”

Bia feels compelled to intervene.

“Rhea,” she says softly, “I get that you’re hurt, but he was only trying to help. We all need someone to be our conscience sometimes when we get lost in our emotions.”

Rhea sighs. “Not you too…”

“Yeah…” Bia replies sheepishly. “Honestly, the stuff you were saying to Nosys was really… dark. I never thought you would take the talk about being a predator literally.”

Khariklo gently interrupts.

“Please forgive the intrusion, but this is imperative,” she says. “Are you certain you wish to take this path? Would you not rather return home?”

Bia answers immediately. “Absolutely sure! We don’t know what that Vixen is up to!”

Rhea nods in agreement, still bandaged but no longer bleeding from her many wounds. “Yes. We must go.”

Leon takes a deep breath. With renewed resolve, he says, “I will go with them.”

The drider reaches behind her back, offering her hand for the three to climb onto.

“It is determined, then,” Khariklo says.

As the giant drider holds the young legionnaires before her, a shadow falls across the clearing.

“Your way forward from here…” she says, announcing the arrival of two harpies.

Helia and Gale alight in the clearing before Khariklo.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Gale says to Helia.

“No, Airhead,” Helia replies. “I know exactly where we’re not.”

Helia looks at Khariklo and offers an awkward smile.

“I’m just gonna ask this spider-lady here a completely unrelated question,” the white-feathered harpy says.

“Are you searching for someone?” Khariklo asks, smiling knowingly.

“Ye—yeah, we are,” Helia says, confusion written all over her face. “How’d ya know?”

“The companions of Atreus are with me,” the drider reveals. “Safe… and mostly sound.”

Helia’s jaw drops as she recognizes them.

“Who are you?” the two harpies ask the weaver at once.

“I am an advisor of sorts,” the pale-skinned spider-woman says. “You will find Atreus with the Scarlet Vixen. These three will show you the way.”

Khariklo steps forward and places Bia and Rhea atop Helia’s head.

Rhea’s left arm remains in a sling. She grips Helia’s white hair tightly with her right hand.

Before Bia can offer assistance, Rhea cuts her off.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says to Bia. “I’ll be fine.”

Khariklo then places Leon atop the brown-feathered harpy Gale’s head, her orange hair rustling beneath him.

“When you girls return to Torin, please ask that cave-dwelling harpy Priscilla if she’s found a way to pull that stick out of her arse.”

Helia and Gale exchange puzzled looks.

“O—okay,” Helia says while having a brief flashback of hearing about a harpy needing help removing a foreign object from her backside.

“I won’t ask much more than that, though.”

Helia and Gale beat their wings, taking flight as Khariklo holds onto her hat with one hand and waves goodbye with the other.

“Alright, bird brains,” Bia calls out. “Head south from here. Go out to sea, and you’ll find an island there. That’s where the Scarlet Vixen is taking Atreus.”

“The Scarlet Vixen?” Helia says. “How the heck did Atreus get into this mess? Don’t tell me he tried to hunt her down.”

“The Vixen was hunting him, actually,” Leon explains from atop Gale’s head. “It’s going to be a long flight. We’ll tell you all about it.”

Gale’s face lights up.

“Oh! A story?!” she exclaims gleefully. “This day just took a great turn, right, Helia?”

“I guess…” Helia mutters. “Don’t really care about the details—just wanna save my lil’ buddy.”

Bia begins filling Gale and Helia in on the details as Khariklo explained them to her.

Meanwhile, Rhea quietly enjoys the sensation of flight. She looks more peaceful up here—almost carefree. A faint smile touches her lips.

Leon notices this as he watches her from atop the other harpy’s head.

He remembers them playing together as children.

“I haven’t seen Rhea look so content since we were six,” he thinks. “…before her father died. That was so long ago.”

As the two harpies fly high, gliding effortlessly on air currents that carry them across the island, the sun completes its arc and disappears beyond the horizon.

They fly beyond the shore of the island, out over the sea under the stars.

Moonlight fills the night sky, casting a soft glow over Helia’s white hair and feathers.

Rhea and Bia have both nearly drifted off to sleep.

Leon fights to keep his eyes open as he and Gale listen to Helia recount the pranks she likes to pull on her little friend.

“So Atreus climbs up to his roof in the morning, not knowing that I’m crouchin’ beside his insula, and then I pop up all dramatic-like and say, ‘Surprise!’ I can’t believe how many times he’s fallen for it,” Helia laughs. “Of course, I get lots of complaints from the humans—they’re always yellin’, ‘Shut your big arse up, feather brain!’”

“It’s kind of hard to miss a giant harpy ducking below a roof, I imagine,” Leon laughs with a sleepy smile.

“That reminds me,” the harpy says, remembering the strawberry-blonde girl resting on her head. “Hey—golden girl…”

Rhea yawns sleepily in response to Helia’s call.

“That name never gets old,” she mutters sarcastically.

“I was just wonderin’ about somethin’,” Helia says. “What’s someone of your high status doin’ in the Lower District?”

Rhea’s heart skips a beat at the harpy’s question. Her breathing deepens as she hesitates to answer.

“W-what? You saw… me?” she asks, swallowing nervously.

Helia rolls her eyes and laughs. “Uh… yeah? You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Bia rubs her sleepy eyes and yawns.

“Rhea goes to the Lower District?” she asks.

“Mmm-hmm—I’ve seen her there in the mornin’ more than a few times,” Helia says. “Hidin’… and watchin’.”

“Wow,” Bia laughs. “So that’s why you leave your dorm room so early in the morning.”

Rhea stiffens, her heart suddenly pounding.

“I only go there when I jog,” she insists. “I push myself to go far. That is all.”

“Not because a certain somebody lives there, right?” Bia asks with a smirk.

Helia pieces things together at last and gasps aloud.

“Wait—don’t tell me you have a crush on Atreus,” she says, genuinely shocked. “He was obsessed with you. How come you never said anything?”

“That’s so cute,” Gale finally chimes in. “You can tell Atreus when we catch up to him on Helicon Island. We’ll be there to support you.”

“NO!” Rhea cries out desperately, silencing everyone.

A sharp pain suddenly lances through Rhea’s head. She grits her teeth in agony, groaning, “Ungh!”

Unable to raise her arm in the sling to cover her injured eye, she lowers her head and buries her face in Helia’s hair.

“That’s enough, you all,” Leon interjects, shielding Rhea from further comments. “Can’t you see that the stress is causing her pain?”

His plea spares the girl from further humiliating exposure. A silence follows as the others quietly agree not to press the matter any further.

Shortly after their conversation ends, Helicon Island comes into view ahead.

“I see the island,” Gale announces.

They begin their descent, getting a better look at the astonishing structure as they approach it.

The island rises like a colossal column from the sea, standing at the center of a maelstrom that churns the waters aside and exposes the ocean floor. There, masterfully carved reliefs of elven giantesses begin at the base of the island and extend all the way to its summit.

Moonlight casts deep shadows across the stone, revealing the immense scale and intricate detail of the carvings that wrap around the island’s sides.

“Holy heck,” Bia shouts, marveling at the sight.

“Astonishing,” Gale adds. “This isn’t a natural island. It’s a monument. I can’t wait to tell the librarian Daphne about this place!”

“If you’re impressed,” Bia says to Gale, “imagine how we tiny people feel looking at that.”

The two harpies carry them over the roiling maelstrom and descend toward the island.

They alight on solid ground, pausing to take in the dense jungle before them. Ancient stone structures rise above the treetops, their silhouettes stark against the night sky.

From atop Gale’s head, Leon notices fires burning at the peaks of those structures.

“Someone still lives here,” he says.

“I hope it’s lots of elves,” Helia mutters, her stomach growling loudly. “I could eat a whole village right about now. I’m frickin’ starv—”

“Come on, Helia, we don’t want to hear that,” Bia interrupts.

“Oh, sorry,” the harpy apologizes to the humans with her.

“You will find no little ones to eat here, harpy,” a voice rings out from ahead.

A centaur clad in golden armor emerges from the dark jungle, leveling a golden spear at the newcomers.

The group watches her warily as she briefly fans her wings before folding them against her back, where they are affixed to the equine half of her body.

“What brings you to this sacred place?” she asks, distrust clear in her tone. “Whatever it is, it is surely not worth the misery that you shall find.”

(NEXT CHAPTER)