TORIN YOUTH – CHAPTER 08: INTO THE UNKNOWN

The night after Khariklo’s warning, in the eastern 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. They do not provide a giant predator with as many places to hide and stalk prey.

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 crops aren’t enough… I need something else… to stop the hunger pangs… to satisfy this body… I need…”

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

Cadmeia studies them.

"...flesh."

Two appear equipped for treasure hunting, while four carry weapons, likely mercenaries hired for protection.

They are visitors to the island from a civilization more advanced than the Torinians—perhaps even from another world.

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…”

“…so hungry…”

The swift fox giantess sprints forward.

Before the group of treasure hunters 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 slide down into her chest.

He barely has a moment to consider his 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. The 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 giantess moves 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 hungry giantess.

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

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. “I can’t stop myself.”

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

…and 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.

Sophean approaches and gently wakes her. “Joyous Rising, Will of Utalle,” he says.

The fox-hybrid giantess slowly opens her eyes to see the tiny inu man near her face.

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

She looks around, confused about what happened overnight.

“I don’t remember coming back. Was it a dream?” she asks herself. “What does it matter? It’s getting worse… like the Vixen is trying to take 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.

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’m not good with goodbyes,” she says.

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

Cadmeia smiles softly. “Yes… they do. How could I forget again?”

At the center of the village, the villagers gather, sitting in a large circle.

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

The inu people peer up at her as she finds a place among them, offering the traditional morning greeting.

“Joyous rising!”

Cadmeia sits with her legs folded, resting her hands on her ankles, gently swaying.

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

An inu 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 inu 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 for more than an hour, keeping herself busy among the people.

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

He remains among the performers near the home of the inu 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 coming back?” she asks.

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

“Is there… someone else?” she asks.

The boy pauses.

“Maybe,” he says, hopeful.

Maki takes his hand and smiles.

“Well then. Safe travels, Atreus.”

Meanwhile, Sophean finds Cadmeia still lingering in the village.

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

Cadmeia sighs.

But just as her impatience begins to show, Sophean brings good news.

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

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

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

“So, we’re leaving, huh?” he asks Cadmeia.

The giantess kneels, resting her hands in her lap.

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

Atreus smirks. “Yeah, I’d like to be let in on your plans for me.”

She takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“I know of a way to become human again,” she says. “There is an artifact on an island with the power to transform me. I want you to come with me.”

Atreus lowers his head.

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.

“Okay,” he says. “If becoming human again will make you happy, I’ll go with you.”

He looks to Sophean.

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

Sophean answers calmly, “We still have our mighty taurogryphs to fend off threats. We will survive. Whatever the Will desires, we accept.”

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

Atreus hesitates for a moment.

“This feels like… a lot,” he says. “But what the hell—let’s give it a shot.”

Cadmeia smiles warmly at him.

“Finally,” she exhales, holding out her hands for the two tiny figures to climb onto. “I’ll be me again.”

She rises carefully, using her three tails to steady herself.

The giantess lifts Atreus and Sophean onto her shoulders.

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

As she leaves the village, the Laiko people gather to wish her well.

Meanwhile, in the northern reaches of the island, farther east, the giant dridder Khariklo walks through the forest on her many spider legs.

With the day warm and sunny, she adorns 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.

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 an 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, both in this world and others. Given enough years in close proximity to harpies, in the peculiar environment of this island, you could very well become an entirely new subspecies of human.”

The dridder stops in a clearing and examines her surroundings.

“Why did we stop?” Bia asks.

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 dridder stops again.

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

Rhea watches Khariklo closely, 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…”

“Yeeeah,” Bia replies sheepishly. “Honestly, the stuff you were saying to Nosys was really… dark. So dark it even creeped me out.”

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 dridder reaches behind her, offering her hand for the three to climb onto.

“It is determined, then,” Khariklo says.

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

“Your way forward from here…” she says, acknowledging 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 dridder 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 hairs tightly with her right hand.

Before Bia can offer assistance, Rhea cuts her off.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says.

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

“When you girls return to Torin,” Khariklo says lightly, “please tell the Wrath Maiden Priscilla that I hope she’s found a way to pull that stick out of her arse. That harpy will know exactly who I am.”

Helia and Gale exchange puzzled looks.

“O—okay,” Helia says.

They beat their wings and take 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 that little meat nugget 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 they were explained to her by Khariklo.

Rhea quietly enjoys the sensation of flight. She looks more peaceful—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.

“I like to sneak up on Atreus by crouchin’ beside his insula and poppin’ up over the roof all dramatic-like. I can’t believe how many times he’s fallen for it,” Helia laughs. “I get lots of complaints from the humans—they’re always yellin’, ‘Get yer big ass outta the street, feather brain!’”

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

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

Rhea yawns, irritated.

“That name never gets old,” she mutters.

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

Rhea gulps nervously, her breathing deepening as she hesitates.

“W-what? You saw… me?” she asks.

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. “That’s on the other side of the city from where she lives!”

“Mmm-hmm—I see her there a lot in the mornin’,” Helia says. “Hidin’… watchin’.”

Rhea stiffens, her heart suddenly pounding.

“I go for a jog in the mornings,” she insists. “I push myself to go far. That is all.”

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

A sharp pain suddenly lances through Rhea’s head.

“Ungh!”

Unable to raise her free hand to cover her injured eye, she buries her face in her arms.

“That’s enough,” Leon interjects. “Can’t you see the stress is causing her pain?”

As Leon shields Rhea from further humiliation, Helicon Island comes into view.

They begin their descent.

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 lives here,” he says.

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

“You will find no little ones to eat here, harpy,” a voice interrupts.

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

She briefly fans her wings before folding them against her back, where they are affixed to the equine half of her body.

The group watches her warily.

“What brings you to this sacred place?” she asks, distrust clear in her tone.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

Atreus sketch