Heretical Fishing: A Cozy Guide to Annoying the Cults, Outsmarting the Fish, and Alienating Oneself

I felt myself falling to the floor, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. My entire body was numb, and I only barely registered my back striking the floor. Claws reached me first, clasping my arm. Snips and Maria were there a moment later, fussing over me.

“I’m fine,” I tried to say, but I had no idea if the words actually made it out.

Despite losing the sensation of my, well, everything, I knew I was okay. I couldn’t verbalize how I knew, but that didn’t change the fact that I was safe.

“Fischer!” Maria’s voice called, finally reaching my ears as some of my faculties returned.

“I’m fine,” I repeated. Or tried to, anyway. I still had no idea if they could hear me. “I promise.”

Judging by the way Maria pulled me into a hug, I guessed that the words had made it out. A few moments later, I could see again, only a thin blanket of numbness remaining over my senses.

“What happened?” she demanded, still hugging me tight.

I wrapped my arms around her, using my hands to pat both Snips and Claws. “I was hoping you could tell me. I feel like the sun hit me right in the brain.”

She laughed, the sound filled with relief. “Well that’s no good. You need that.”

“Right? Where would all my insightful thoughts come from without my noggin?”

Maria extricated herself from my grip then stood and helped me to my feet. Standing made a pulse of pain lance through my head, and I froze for a moment, rubbing my temples.

“Holy frack...” Maria said.

Peeking out through slitted eyes, I found her staring at the table beside the barbecue, and as I looked toward it, I understood. “Frack me,” I agreed, gazing down at what I’d assumed would be a simple meal. The single shore fish had somehow either multiplied or grown. Its skeleton was nowhere to be seen, and entirely too many filets for a single fish that size sat atop a plate. Steam rose from the glistening morsels, emphasizing the light brown of the perfectly cooked filets.

The only thing that let me take all of this in was my enhanced awareness, because a fraction of a second after I first caught sight of our creation, words flashed in my field of view.

You have successfully taken part in a crafting ritual!

Quest updated: Group Project.

Objective: [Error. Insufficient Power.]

Reward: [Error. Insufficient Power.]

I grinned, the excitement making me forget all about my headache. “Did you get that too?” I asked.

“Yeah...” Maria replied, accompanied by an affirmative chirp and hiss from Snips, all as awe-filled as each other.

I took a step forward, intending to get a better look. The moment I did, more words appeared.

Honeyed Fish Feast of the Communion

Mythic

Made of honey and a mature shore fish, this feast was created by the shared efforts of those possessing deep bonds with each other. Taking part in this feast will grant the consumer with the boon: Kindred Spirits.

Kindred Spirits effect: Permanent boost to Loyalty.

I shook my head, dismissing the words. Though they were gone from view, they remained firmly rooted in mind as they raced around my head, various implications unraveling. Loyalty was measurable…?

“Woah...” Maria said, staring into space. “That’s... woah.”

“Uh-huh.”

I glanced at Snips and Claws, finding both of their mouths parted and eyes also focused on nothing in particular. I expected Claws to cackle with how successful our creation had been, but she appeared to be too shocked to—

Before I could even finish the thought, she raised her forepaws toward the sky and arched her back as she unleashed a maniacal cackle, her needle-sharp teeth reflecting the day’s light. When her laughter crawled to a stop, she rubbed her paws together, hunching over as she started scheming. Snips blew thoughtful bubbles, and Maria wound a finger around strands of her hair, still staring into space.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the System message once more. There were numerous moral and ethical implications stemming from the wording, and the more I considered it, the more sure I became. I opened my eyes and watched Claws, unsure how I should broach the subject.

Maria let out a sigh, and when I looked her way, she gave me a wincing smile. “We can’t use it, can we?”

I grimaced back. “I don’t think so, no. Not yet, anyway.”

What? Claws demanded with a sharp trill, staring up at us. Why?

“It’s a little too mind-controlly, Claws. The way the ‘loyalty’ part is phrased makes it sound like anyone who eats it won’t have a choice. It’s one thing for you to eat it, because you understand the implications and can consent to them. A regular bear can’t.”

She flopped to her back dramatically, a single paw grasping toward the sky as despair took her.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at her performance. “Oh, shush, you little drama queen. I didn’t say the bear could never eat it—I said he couldn’t eat it yet.”

She froze, then her head slowly drifted my way, hope sparking in her eyes when they met mine.

I grinned back. “I have an idea...”

***

Deep beneath the earth, a massive creature stirred. Far below the surface as he was, the surrounding dirt and rock held the heat of his body, wrapping him in a pleasant cocoon of warmth. Despite his comfort, something prodded at his awareness. A low rumble came from his throat as he stretched his limbs, not understanding what had woken him.

Still half asleep, the bear recalled the delicious feast of honey he’d had. It was as though he could still smell it on the air, its fragrance somehow potent enough to reach him all the way at the bottom of his den. He took a deep breath, imagining that the delicious comb was right in front of him. When air hit the back of his throat, his eyes flew open.

His bulbous nose sniffed away, and as the last vestiges of sleep left him, he realized that it wasn’t just his imagination. There was honey nearby. He rolled over to his front and slowly stood, his muscles protesting after hours of disuse. He stretched his mighty body before he ambled up the tunnel, heading for the surface. With each length of tunnel he crossed, the luscious sweetness of the honey urged him on, making his mouth water. When he had traversed half the way out, he paused, lifting his head as he smelled the air.

Another scent had joined that of the honey, its promise just as enticing. He could smell fish.

It made even less sense than smelling honey from the depths of his den. His abode was high in the mountains, far from any water source. He remained there for a long moment, keenly aware of the possibility of danger. It was one thing to smell honey, but to find fish outside of his den? It reeked of trickery, and the bear instinctively knew who would be behind it: the two-legged creatures. Images flashed through his mind of the two-legged ones standing high above him, their faces fierce as they jabbed out with giant, painful sticks.

He hesitated, considering what to do.

Eventually, he looked back down the tunnel. He’d already passed numerous offshooting passages that would take him to the other exits. Even if he followed the scents and found an ambush waiting, he could just retreat further into his cave, leaving another way. The multiple openings were exactly why this was the perfect den, offering countless methods of escape if he was ever discovered.

If that was what happened, though—if the upright beings had trailed him back to his abode—he would have to abandon it.

This thought made a primal rage swell up from deep in his body, the hair around his neck bristling. This was his den, and if the numbers weren’t too disadvantageous, he would defend it. Using his rage as fuel, he padded forward, moving silently along the hard-packed earth. At each branch in the tunnel he came across, he paused to sniff the air, carefully checking for the unmistakable stench of interlopers. When each alternative passage was deemed empty, he continued on, his fury building.

At the last curve in the tunnel, he forced himself to stop. It was no small feat; delicious scents pulled him forward, and towering rage urged him on. He tamped both instincts down as best he could. It wasn’t too late for him to leave. He could turn and flee, departing through another exit before even spotting the trap. Whether it was the influence of his hunger and fury, or the possibility that it wasn’t treachery that had brought the delicious-smelling foods to him, the bear made a choice.

He slunk forward, his shoulders hunched and head low as he went around the final bend. What he found there immediately confirmed his suspicions.

A whole fish sat before him, with trails of smoke coming from it that reminded him of the clouds flowing from his mouth during cold evenings. The fish was smothered in honey, the delicious goo dripping to pool on the object that confirmed this food was presented by the two-legged creatures. It was on one of the flat, white stones that he’d only seen around them. When he had still been a cub, only a fraction of the size he was now, he’d eaten off them countless times. More images flashed through his mind of a small, upright creature leaving food where he could steal it.

He shook his head and released a low, rumbling growl. He had to focus on the surrounding forest. As the bear padded forward, every movement was fluid, testing. His head remained still but his eyes darted, scanning every possible hiding place as he searched for pale skin or jabbing sticks. When he reached the cave entrance, he took multiple false exits, each time sending his head slightly further out before withdrawing it. The entire time, he scoured everything visible, anticipating the ambush.

It never came.

With half of his body protruding from the safety of his den, he waited. He could see everything around him, and short of the leaves slowly swaying above, there was no movement. He waited an excessive amount of time, expecting the attack to come at each passing moment. The longer he waited, the more he suspected it wouldn’t come. Had the hairless creatures been so foolish as to leave their food unattended? It had happened countless times before. The images flashed again, a catalog of each meal he’d eaten from atop a flat stone, outsmarting the two-legged cub.

It took all of his self-control to not run forward and bite into the honey-covered fish. The memories of meals past made his hunger grow even more. It swelled into an irresistible urge, his mouth watering and breaths coming heavy. With his steps careless in comparison to earlier, he loped forward. His teeth bit down into the fish, saliva pouring as its sweet and savory flavors hit his tongue. He’d intended to sprint back to his den with the meal, but with his prize in his mouth, he was unable to stop himself.

He crunched down into the fish, its warm flesh falling apart. Some of it fell down to the white, unnaturally round stone, but he paid it no mind. His mind was completely occupied by the tastes assaulting him. He crunched through bone, grinding them to dust beneath his massive teeth. When no sharp bits remained, he swallowed. Heat radiated from the meal as it passed down toward his stomach. Though it was almost burning, the warmth was undeniably pleasant.

He lost himself as he devoured the rest of it, and when he licked the golden honey from the circular rock, his entire body shook. He had never tasted honey so wonderful—so perfect. The heat now spreading from his stomach crept out to encompass his entire body. Indescribable bliss washed over him, building and building as he sat on the grass, unable to stand any longer. Abruptly, the air pressure changed. As if a storm were brewing, it pressed down into his body. Opening his eyes, he expected to find dark skies and roiling clouds, but the afternoon was clear.

He tried to stand, but the weight was oppressive. All too late, the thought that this might be a trap crossed his mind, the idea not bringing the panic it should.

The heat of the eaten meal rose up within him, fighting off the outside pressure. When both forces collided, the world exploded in white.

Pop!