Eternal Keepsake

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Well, we’ve always been here, but we haven’t always been dragons.

We started as tiny little specks burrowed in the ground, smaller than grains of sand, blind, deaf, and immobile. Our lives at this stage are often short; at a guess, more than ninety percent of us starve to death and dissolve before having the opportunity to produce a coherent thought. Despite being virtually invincible, we’re the weakest species in the Valley, useless and miserable little scum.

With no means to find food initially, and our energy depleting far faster than any other creature, we die quickly. Our only chance to survive for just a bit longer is for another organism to touch our body, our "cores." Through touch, we can absorb any living cell and replenish ourselves. Since we can’t move, we can only hope that a corpse might fall on us, even then, that supply would eventually run out.

But a stark difference separates us from every other organism: we can evolve using what we eat. We retain everything about the structure and identity of what we consume, including how we could produce it. The cores that taste flesh and bone can make their own.

Still, it’s not enough to be able to inch our way through the dirt. Making things takes energy, and we have too little of a supply. We need more.

So we eat our own kind.

Coming into contact with smaller cores allows us to take their mass and grow larger, producing more flesh. Thus, my species gradually rose from the dirt and began to appear throughout the Valley. After eating our first insect, we formed eyes with which we could see. Fur grew on our backs and tails sprouted from our ends after eating a rat. Our minds grew vast and comprehensive when we consumed our first human. Every creature we eat passes on its traits, knowledge, and memories, and we can use and interchange these in any way we like.

Eventually, the greatest of us consumed so much that it found it could be anything it desired, even something that didn't quite exist at all. It gave itself the body of a lizard more massive than any elephant, sprouted wings shaped like a bat's, and covered itself in scales as tough as a turtle's shell. It became a dragon, a creature once conceived as fiction by humans, now real and alive.

We can make myths and legends true. The impossible is now possible through us, and the humans are helpless. They are at our every whim.

Presently, we're still an uncommon sighting, but the number of us will only continue to increase. The humans are deathly afraid. They cower within their bleak homes, knowing that, someday, we will drive them into extinction.

They call us the Invasive.

But unfortunately, I am not a dragon. Not yet.

Nonetheless, I am something to be feared. I’ve heard that the earlier generations of Invasive took pity on my generation, nurturing many of us to give us a chance at life. Not me. I am self-made. I crawled to where I am now with caution and unwavering perseverance. I will be a dragon.

My ambition has led me here, to the town of Cavefall, near the edge of the Valley. It sits inside the cave of a mountain, with a waterfall falling before the cave’s mouth. Anyone who wishes to visit Cavefall must pass through its heavy downpour. A path lies just beneath the surface of the lake in the cave, leading from the waterfall to the town.

Despite its seclusion, Cavefall has seen a recent rise in thievery and outside hostility. I assume it’s due to the attacks in the north I caught sight of on my way here. Starving survivors are grasping at whatever they can. Cavefall could certainly choose to be kind and take in these struggling folk, but it’s neither my job nor desire to worry about such things.

The heads of Cavefall hired me to monitor the waterfall entrance. I take note of visitors and keep an eye on anyone I believe to be suspicious. If an Invasive or any other threat arrives, I'm expected to deal with it. In return, I'm permitted to consume the Invasive cores I find, and they pay me a sum of money every week.

Regrettably, my employment has been fruitless. I thought this might be a simple way of hunting down other Invasive, but none have appeared. The money I've received will be helpful to disguise myself as human and avoid trouble when I need to, but Invasive cores are far more valuable to me. This afternoon, I figured I would wait for perhaps one more day before moving on, just in case an Invasive happens to show up after all. I'm already reconsidering, and it’s only midnight.

I hold the form of an abnormally giant spider, resting on a dry part of the cave wall near the top of the waterfall entrance. I imagine a bat would be a much more natural form for my position, but I have never even laid eyes on a bat, nor any flying creature. They became endangered a few decades ago. Such a shame. I must fly to be a dragon.

The water pounds loudly to my left, drowning out the irritating noise from the town to my right. The nightly activities of humans are frustrating. Most other animals peacefully sleep the night away, but no, humans simply must stay awake long past the sunset, making noise far too loud for their mediocre existence to justify.

Continuing to observe the waterfall, I notice it beginning to part near the center-bottom. A lone figure walks through, entering the cave. At first, the figure appears to be carrying a fortified umbrella to shield themself, as most visitors do, but the umbrella seemingly disappears almost as soon as they pass by. Curious.

I leap outward and drop down, reshaping into human form as I descend and dressing in the clothes I store within my flesh: a short robe and a pair of trousers. This fall would have been fatal to any other mammal, but it barely rocks me as I land in a crouch, making a small splash in the ankle-high water. I don't have bones, as they're too troublesome to make, but I can create enough tension in my artificial muscles that I don't need them.

The figure twitches a bit in response to being splashed, illuminated by lanterns on the poles jutting up from the water on both sides of the path. They hide their eyes beneath the hood of their dark cloak, but multiple strands of bright orange hair stick out, curling by their neck.

“Invasive,” the figure, a woman, mutters.

“And you?” I ask as I straighten, my bare feet squishing the thick moss that covers the flat stone path to town. "What's your business here?"

The woman hesitates, then dips her head slightly. “I am Vera," she says. "I see by your posture that you believe I may be a threat.” She raises her head enough so that I can see one emerald green iris and a white scar on her cheek. "Or perhaps, you wish for me to be a threat?"

“Are you a threat?” I ask with a smirk.

"No," Vera says. "And I’m not Invasive, either. However, the threat is coming."

I hum thoughtfully and smile wider, barely acknowledging her words. "How did you pass beneath the waterfall?"

"Pardon?"

"Your cloak is dry," I say. "You had to have passed under the falls with something, but that cloak doesn't look big enough to conceal the umbrella I thought I saw you using. So, how did you do it, then, if you're not Invasive?"

Vera stares, locking eyes with me. "My," she says. "You truly crave the hunt, don't you? It must be all you do. You're a rather fierce animal."

My shape is tall and burly, and I tower over her, leering, fingers fidgeting. Even if she's not Invasive, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a good hunt. It would feel far too good to let loose.

Vera doesn’t move one step. "Fine," she says before I can do anything, revealing her arm from beneath her cloak. Her hand is missing, a clean stump in its place by the wrist.

I snicker. "You think that just because you're crippled and incomplete that I'll believe you're human?"

"No, I don't," Vera says. "So go ahead. Take some of my skin and absorb it into your core. Then you'll see that I'm human."

Flesh produced by Invasive is different from natural human flesh. It still provides some energy when consumed, but it isn't nearly the same as its original counterpart. I'm almost surprised that this human is aware of something like that.

Very well, I'll reward her for her knowledge. I raise a finger and alter it, making it a long, sharp strip of bone. I swipe it over the tip of her stumped arm and retract the finger, bringing the collected piece of skin through my arm to this body's stomach, where my core rests. The tissue is absorbed quickly, and I can confidently tell that this creature is indeed human.

"Satisfied?" Vera asks, withdrawing her arm.

I squeeze a fist at her demeaning tone. Humans are fragile. It would be so easy to make a larger version of the bone knife I just formed. I could stab her clean through the heart, and she would be gone, whereas she could never even hope to pose any threat to me at all.

I hold back the urge for now. She might not be Invasive, but she still intrigues me, at least somewhat. I'm curious as to what brought her here.

"Reasonably," I reply hesitantly.

"Then as I was saying, a threat is coming," she says. "Another Invasive. We have an hour at most before it finds its way here.”

I tilt my head. “How did you discover this information? And how do you know it's coming here?”

Vera shakes her head. “You hold no authority, as far as I can tell. Lead me to the one or ones you work under, and I can explain everything there. We'll need soldiers, too."

I snort. The only true authority lies with those with the most strength and power. In that regard, I hold the most authority in Cavefall. And soldiers? To fight an Invasive? The thought makes me want to laugh. The only one here capable of fighting an Invasive would be me.

"Are you refusing to answer for any other particular reason?" I ask.

"You want your hunt, don't you?" Vera asks. "I'll give it to you. But for now, please honor my request."

I raise my chin and consider, drawing a deep breath.

"Very well," I say. Then I warn her, "A number of them may be intoxicated."

"That isn't a problem," she says curtly, to which I doubtfully raise my eyebrows.

I take her down the slightly submerged, moss-covered pathway. It clings to my bare feet and her thin shoes, keeping us from slipping. The path gradually rises out of the water as we pass a small gate and enter the town itself. More lanterns light the streets just enough for a human to see. The extra senses I've obtained from other animals allow us to move swiftly to our destination.

The dreadful singing and drums become louder as we move closer to the town’s tavern. I'm not against music, but I don't think I've ever heard such incompetent singers as these folk. Before turning down a separate path, I catch a glimpse of Vera smiling under her hood while gazing fondly toward the music.

"You enjoy those pitiful songs?" I ask.

"Oh, not in the least," Vera says with a light chuckle. "But it does remind me of home."

For a moment, I'd forgotten that she was also human. I take a closer look at her face and catch sight of a few more scars obscured by the shadow of her hood.

We stop at one of the houses. Cavefall has five heads, each in charge of different tasks. Based on what I’ve seen, two are likely at the tavern, two are sleeping, and the last, whom I consider the most responsible, is definitely working, checking trade ledgers and manifests. We’re visiting her first.

After knocking on her door, she opens it to us, bleary-eyed, wearing a nightgown. Dried ink covers her fingers.

"You?" she asks when she focuses her eyes on me, exasperated. "What is it?"

"There’s a situation," I say.

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. "What kind?"

"An Invasive."

"One Invasive? Can you handle it?"

I hesitate. "Yes."

"Then handle it." She closes the door in my face.

Humans. I take a deep breath.

"You think you're the biggest fish in the pond?" Vera asks from behind me.

I turn. "What?"

Vera tilts her head at me thoughtfully, then sighs and breaks away. "Never mind," she says. "I think I've seen enough from this town’s leaders." She begins walking down the street again. "Perhaps we should round soldiers up ourselves. There is an armed force here, I hope?"

I squint at her, but follow. "There is," I say. "Though, they aren't fond of listening to me."

"Of course not," she says dryly. "Who would they answer to?"

"Their captain, another head of Cavefall."

"And who does the captain answer to?"

I recall the few meetings between the five heads I was able to witness. Captain Gurrick didn’t often back down, but when he did . . .

"Pretty women," I say.

Much to my annoyance, we go to the tavern, then find Captain Gurrick slumped over the bar, half-empty tankard in hand. I gesture toward him to Vera, as this was precisely what I’d expected, but Vera doesn't appear to care as she approaches Gurrick and shifts her cloak. With her back turned to me, I don’t witness what she does, and I tilt my head in confusion as Gurrick bolts upright.

He turns about wildly before settling on Vera and pausing. His eyes slowly focus and brighten, and he grins.

"Oh, my lady, to what do I owe the–" His eyes catch on me, and his wide smile curves sharply downward. "What do you want?"

Gurrick was the most skeptical of me when I first arrived, and now he has to act as if he hates me for taking his job, when really, all he desires is to drink forever. For that, I expect that he has some begrudging appreciation for me.

"Don't mind it," Vera says. "I need you to gather your townsguard, Captain. Cavefall is under threat."

Gurrick straightens. "Oh . . . uh . . .” he turns back to me and points with another scowl. “Aren’t you supposed to be on duty?”

“I said don't mind it,” Vera says, more sternly this time. “Gather your troops.”

Gurrick’s eyes flick between us, glaring when they’re on me.

“Of course," Gurrick concedes. "Most of them are here, actually, if you'll just let me . . ." He trails off as he looks around.

He's right. Most of the townsguard are here, all in similar states to the one we found Gurrick in.

"Heavens, why tonight of all nights?" Gurrick mutters.

I snort. The townsguard becoming too drunk to work at night was not an unusual occurrence.

But Vera surprises me once more as she treats each member of the townsguard the same way as she did Gurrick, jolting them awake. I never see how she rouses them, though I do try to catch a view several times.

Why not ask her, I decide. Strange, I don’t feel that way often.

When I ask, Vera says ”So you can’t do this, then?”

I cock my head. “How could I?”

Vera stares at me for a moment, then shrugs and moves on to the next drunk guard.

The awakened townsguard soldiers run to fetch others, and soon, nearly the entire force is with us. Vera rallies them, and just outside the gates, they line up before her on the moss path, their backs straight and spears held firm. Gurrick stands off to the side, hands behind his back and chest puffed.

“We are at your command, my lady,” he says.

Have they no shame, I wonder? It’s still anyone’s guess whether Vera is even to be trusted. She could very well be the threat she claims is on its way. Not that I care.

“First and foremost,” Vera says, “I want to be certain that everyone here is willing to risk their lives to protect this town. Is that correct?"

"Absolutely," Gurrick says. "We are all prepared for whatever we might face, be it glorious victory or shameful death. We are your tools."

She then turns to the townsguard. “Does he truly speak for you all? Raise your voice now if you disagree. I will not hold it against you.”

Most of the townsguard shake their heads, and all of them stay planted where they stand. Gurrick proudly pushes his chest out a little more.

Vera nods. “Good." She moves her cloak to the side and reveals a white, glossy, and perfectly symmetrical orb the size of her head.

I narrow my eyes. That's an Invasive core.

Vera holds out the core. "You will all need strength, so if you could all please place a hand on this. If there's not enough space, holding onto the person in front of you will do."

Gurrick hesitates, then nods and steps forward, putting his hand on the core. The other townsguard gradually follow in his example.

I briefly consider, then step forward. Vera, however, stops me with a look.

"Not you," she says.

I raise my eyebrows but oblige.

Soon, Gurrick and the rest of the townsguard stand in rows, their hands on either the core or a shoulder.

"Now," Vera says softly, "I apologize."

Ropes of flesh burst from the core, enveloping and trapping every hand that rests upon it. They spread rapidly down the arms of each of the townsguard, ensnaring them all. Some of them open their mouths to scream, but the flesh shoots up and wraps their heads, preventing them from producing any audible sounds.

I don't move. I'm rather bewildered, but much more intrigued than shocked.

Gurrick stares at Vera with panicked and pleading eyes. Vera refuses to meet his gaze.

Gradually, the townsguard are dragged inward and engulfed. I can only assume that the core is absorbing them all, feeding on skin, blood, and bone.

When the entire group is gone, the flesh retracts, leaving only the glossy white orb.

Vera lowers herself to both knees and places the core at her side, then curls her one hand over the stump of her other arm and bows her head.

She's not touching the core. If she were Invasive, her body would evaporate without a connection to it. That makes two strong pieces of evidence that she's human, but I still find myself questioning it.

“What are you?" I ask. “Where did you get that core?”

No response, but I see her lips moving without a sound.

"Are you . . . praying?" I ask. "You didn't strike me as someone with faith."

Still no response. I scowl.

"Do you seek forgiveness for the life you just snuffed out?" I ask.

Vera raises her head and lowers her arms.

"And you, Invasive?" she asks, picking the core back up and standing. "Do you follow a particular faith?"

"Faith in an unseen power is for those too afraid to accept that life has no meaning," I say, “and for those who hold no faith in themselves.”

Vera nods. “I can’t say I agree with you, but I can see where you’re coming from.” She turns to me. "As for your question: no, I do not seek forgiveness. I ask that the souls I have wronged be treated with mercy. That they are reborn into a world less disfigured than ours. And I pray that I will someday receive the sentence I deserve."

I scoff. "If you hate yourself so much, why not punish yourself now?"

Vera lets out a small laugh. "Strange, isn't it? I know I deserve a terrible fate, but I keep putting it off, taking more lives along the way." She looks up at the waterfall. "I suppose . . . I can't go just yet."

My focus shifts to the Invasive core in her hands, and my face twitches as I recognize that it's larger than mine.

Vera spots my gaze and tenderly runs her hand over the core. "This is my son, Billip."

"Your son?" I ask with a squint.

"Yes. An Invasive consumed him, and I isolated its core."

Hearing that makes me stand up straighter. When Invasive cores are said to be isolated, they have no will of their own, following only the commands of the human that isolated them. They become tools.

"That's impossible," I say with a chuckle. "Isolation is a myth humans spread to keep themselves sane. One of my prey spent years attempting to figure it out. It can't be done."

"How would you explain all this, then?" Vera asks with a small smile.

I open my mouth, but when no plausible idea surfaces, I grit my teeth.

“Well, what now?” I ask. “Do you plan to slaughter the rest of Cavefall, then pray again?”

Vera’s eyes grow sad. “Your words hurt. I don't enjoy taking life, I was just . . . desperate, tonight. I preserve Billip’s memories by whatever means necessary, so I must keep him fed. I can’t always feed him the right way.”

I raise my chin thoughtfully. The prey inside me were all too familiar with that particular kind of desperation.

“And I suppose you were lying about the threat on the way?" I ask.

“Oh, there's an Invasive out there,” Vera assures. "Everything I said was true. It's looking for me, and Billip didn't have enough energy to fight it. But now that he's fed, I suppose it’s time to deal with it." She glances back at me. "I'll be leaving, then. It was nice to meet you, Invasive."

I furrow my brow. "What? You're going?"

"You thought I would stay?" Vera asks, returning my expression.

"You promised me my hunt," I say.

Vera blinks. "You're right." She considers for a moment. "You could help me with this other Invasive, if you'd like. I can't let you consume its core, but you might relish the hunt anyway."

I shake my head in confusion. "I'm not hunting you?"

"Why would I offer that?"

I start to speak, then pause. Why would she offer me that?

Vera tilts her head at me. "How many humans have you consumed?"

An unexpected question.

"Twenty," I say after some hesitation.

Vera hums. "I thought the number would be high,” she says. “You're much more human than any Invasive I've ever come across, although still not quite there. That in mind, I'm a little surprised you hold no sympathy for us."

“Why should I?” I ask. “You all lack redeeming qualities.”

“I wonder, what kind of humans did you eat to make you think that way?” Vera asks.

I huff. “Smarter ones.”

Vera lets out a small laugh. "I see." She appears to think some more. "You know what? I can offer you something far greater, instead." She reaches her hand out to me. "Hunt with me."

"Hunt with you?" I ask, utterly thrown off. "Don't you hate us? Why would you want to spend time with an Invasive?"

"Why would I hate the Invasive?" Vera asks. "Because one of them killed my son? When an animal kills a person, do those who cared for that person hate everything from that species?"

"Yes,” I reply bluntly. “I believe many of them do. Your kind will have no qualms about killing others if they were so much as born in a different part of the Valley."

Vera chuckles darkly. "I suppose some do, don't they?” she says. Then she sighs. “But many Invasive are very different, just as many humans are very different. It doesn't make sense to me to hate them all for the actions of one, or even several. There's bound to be a rose in a pile of thorns, don't you think?"

"No, I disagree."

Vera shakes her head. "Regardless, no, I wouldn't mind you accompanying me. In fact, I think I'd appreciate it. There's much to discover about you." Her eyes gleam. "And, additionally, you can help me restore my son to life."

"I . . . I don't care about any of that," I say. "I just want to be a dragon."

"A dragon?” Vera says fondly. “I’d like to see that. You help me, and I'll help you."

I narrow my eyes. I do not need help. I am superior, self-made. And I will grow stronger at any cost, on my own.

My eyes fall to where she holds the core within her cloak. It's larger than mine, but if it's isolated, I can carry it until my core is enough to consume it.

I make eye contact with Vera once more, and her smile fades.

I can't afford to worry about her isolating my core. I must be swift.

I thrust my arm forward. She reacts instantly, flesh sprouting from Billip's core and hardening into bone, creating a wall between us.

Against any other Invasive, that would be enough. We can’t make anything sturdier than bone, and Billip's core holds more than enough energy to keep me at bay. But I’m not so effortlessly stopped.

My forearm splits and brings forward the large steel speartip I keep inside. I shove it into the bone barrier, shattering it, and the speartip pierces through Vera.

Vera gasps from behind the wall, and I grin. I move to pull the speartip back but find that it's locked in place. I alter my footing to try and yank it, but before I can, a thick tendril shoots from the wall and embeds itself in my chest. Something’s moving around inside, pushing my flesh aside, searching. It comes across coins, more weapons, and finally, my core.

Thoughts swimming and spinning, vigorously blending, expanding and contracting simultaneously. Names and bodies, emotions and behaviors, all running in and out of me.

I have enough sense to bring out the sword nested in my other arm and slice it in front of me, severing the tendril, then push the foreign object out of my body. Billip's isolated core erupts from my stomach and splashes onto the path. The bone wall and the rest of the flesh tendril evaporate into white mist, and Vera collapses, heaving.

The vertigo stops. Something inside me was lost. I can't tell what, but it was something. That was the first time I've come into contact with an Invasive core larger than mine. I breathe heavily, despite my body not requiring oxygen.

In losing a few thoughts, however, I also gained new ones, speaking loudly inside me. Over time, the new voices should become less intense, assimilating naturally into my consciousness. Hopefully.

Vera reaches out to Billip's core. I quickly move over and pick it up before she has the chance to grab it.

"Consume me," she wheezes.

I pause.

"Please," she says. "Let me be with my son."

She's a fascinating human, but I imagine it would be troublesome for her ideas to meddle with mine. There's too much risk. I take great care when deciding which humans to consume, and I don't think I can afford to eat her.

But one of those loud thoughts screams at me, begging me to reunite it with its mother. I tighten my jaw as I look at Vera. Was this her intention?

I want to walk away so very badly, but this voice just won't have it, and I can't say for certain whether it will ever fade if I leave Vera behind.

I sigh and lower down, opening myself to pull Vera into my core. She smiles warmly and closes her eyes.

"Thank you."

While she's absorbed, more new thoughts begin to surface:

Where did I come from?

I was a tiny, insignificant core, same as any other Invasive, pathetic and useless. It wasn't until another–

No, no, I am superior! I am self-made! I built myself up from the depths of my weakness. I have achieved my strength of my own accord! There's no doubt about that.

But what about beyond just myself? Where did the Invasive come from? According to old records, we first appeared in the Valley a few centuries ago, but the first Invasive could've been conceived long before that. There was no answer, only countless theories.

This human had a boundless inquisitive mind and came across much remarkable knowledge during her lifetime. Try as I might, I can’t suppress her curiosities.

And the isolation of cores. To isolate and manipulate cores, one must . . .

It doesn't matter. I can't do it. I'm Invasive.

After consuming Vera completely, I rearrange my body back to its human shape, then kneel and place my hands together. As I bow my head, I suddenly catch myself and scowl, standing back up.

I place the isolated core in my back, where it protrudes slightly, making sure to keep enough distance between it and my core. When the time comes, I'll feast.

I suppose I should hunt down that other Invasive, then. I walk toward the waterfall, not bothering to form a covering to block the downpour. I lower my head and walk beneath. The water pounds on my head and shoulders, and I exit the cave to continue my ascension.