Kin of Jörmungandr

My hunts have grown dull.

There was once a thrill in challenging prey. But now? It is all too easy.

I pity the creature before me. It has yet to notice death approaching, but even if it did, nothing would change. My stomach demands a feast.

My prey, a large quadruped, laps its tongue out to a trickle flowing from the side of the rocky cavern wall. Its choice to drink from the spray rather than the stream reveals it lacks true-sight. How such creatures can live long enough to become my food, I don’t know. All it needs to do is take a few steps back and tilt its head up and the same stream would flow easily into its waiting maw.

Steps. How pathetic.

It must be an unfortunate existence to have limbs. Those long, floppy, dangling pieces of meat would only get in the way. Their bulky shape, nothing but a nuisance for travelling through spatial tunnels. Worst of all, limbed creatures, like the one struggling before me, are earthbound. They cannot slither through space as I. They cannot endlessly leave the ground.

Every being with arms or legs or tentacles or fins is dumb. Well, even those without — besides myself — lack intelligence, but limbed creatures are particularly dumb.

More than a thousand hunts have passed since my earliest memory; a haze of desires followed sleep after meal after sleep without deviation. More than a thousand hunts it took me to awaken to sapience. Not at all an immediate change, but one where my mind expanded over time, becoming clear.

I have to wonder: if my prey lives as long as I, would it, too, gain comprehension? Or is such a thing impossible?

An unanswerable question. Prey without true-sight never lasts long in my territory. Well, it’s not as if I’ve ever seen a creature other than myself with the spark of intelligence, so it could be impossible regardless of how much they see.

I might simply be the exception.

Through the bends and fractures in space, the large mammal is clear to my sight; a diosgris — the name filters into my mind from elsewhere, as it does when one gains sapience. I have seen this type of creature before, but it was long before my mind cleared.

It is a type of tiger with powerful lightning which sparks along its fur and claws. Not a concern.

This tiger is far from home. The way it struggles to drink through the curves of space shows how unfamiliar it is with my territory. Space down here is dense with twists, holes, and jagged rends. The perfect environment to hunt.

Even amongst those without true-sight, prey this unfamiliar with distorted terrain never put up a decent fight. It is disappointing, but not every meal needs to be hard-fought.

I slither forward, letting gravity pull me through winding tubes of space perfectly sized for me. Or, more accurately, my body is perfectly sized for them. Each new curve in space I pass through angles me just right to flow along and toward my prey. My body twists to avoid a spatial rend, which would take me far outside my territory. Not helpful.

The tiger finally notices my presence. Its hackles raise as it turns to what it thinks is my way and growls. I slither through the air, a continual fall that never brings me closer to the stalagmite-lined rocky cavern floor.

Rather than taking the direct route, I sway side to side. The distorted space carries me all across the cave, leaving my approach unpredictable. By resisting the urge to travel the quickest spatial path while increasing the number of bends traversed, even prey with true-sight struggle to predict my movement. Doing so against a creature without such vision is excessive, but adding a new method to my hunts after so long is exciting in itself… even if it has removed any and all challenge.

As expected, the mammal loses track of me and backs up with swivelling ears.

Foolish creature; sound is unreliable here. Even before I came to awareness, I knew never to trust the echoes. If it wants to be distracted, then I will oblige. I hiss, a deep cutting noise that only grows louder the longer I continue. My tongue tastes the mammal’s terror, but like sound, scent is unreliable for direction.

The tiger jolts at the deep, echoing hiss, and twists on its paws. My prey growls and lightning ignites along its fur, arcing from the eyes downward and across its body. An obvious act of intimidation, but it is hardly effective when it reeks of fear.

My prey’s slight movement takes it through a large spatial curve to the other side of the cavern, and I have to adjust my path to follow. I slither beneath a horizontal stalagmite poking through a spatial hole and avoid a bend that would take me too close to the cavern floor.

The tiger spots me again, this time swivelling away from the large bend. It backs up a few steps, but I continue my careful slither through the grasp of thin space tunnels. Hunger grows at the sight of such a meaty feast.

A crack of thunder rumbles through the cavern as my prey pounces toward me, or at least where it thinks I am. With its larger body, it cannot pass through the same space tunnels I do, and so it finds itself without a serpent in its grasp.

Electricity arcs along its claws and up its forelegs as they crash against a wall nowhere near me. A mass of the energy zaps out from its eyes, creating a distinct buzzing hum through the tunnel. The diosgris has a surprising level of enhancement, but it won’t be of any help.

I jerk forward, a coil in my long body snapping me toward my food by mirroring the force with a bend in space. The diosgris doesn’t see me coming, but it definitely feels when my teeth sink into the flesh of its neck.

My size frees up only enough for my fangs to latch on. The girth of my body triples, as does my length. It is far easier to move through spatial distortion with a smaller size, but to fit such a creature down my throat, I need to be bigger.

Fangs cut deep, but they aren’t meant to kill; they hold me close so Prey can’t toss me off. The creature roars in defiance, but it is already too late.

My long body quickly wraps around its torso, trapping both front legs and leaving the rear two to flounder. No longer able to glide through spatial tunnels, I fall to the ground alongside my prey. The taste of blood is invigorating, and pushes me to tense, clenching my body around the tiger, constricting it.

Lightning arcs out from Prey as it struggles within my grasp. The powerful field of electricity zaps over the entirety of my body, but the energy simply slides ineffectively along my scales. Instead, it arcs into the rock of the surrounding cavern, instantly frying an unfortunate rodent. My fangs, deep within the tiger’s neck, sting as the power flows through them, but it is nothing more than a passing annoyance.

Air releases from my prey’s lungs in a whimper. Claws scratch at my scales, but such weak attempts have no chance of piercing my superior scales. It twists its head, trying to get its own teeth on me, but fails to reach.

As my body continues to tighten down on the immobilised tiger, the cracking of bones gradually rises. Prey is desperate now. It can’t breathe and it tries its hardest to scratch at me with its hind legs, but they do nothing more than nick the scales along my tail.

The scratches ruin their perfect sheen.

I nurtured the lustre and cleanliness of my scales over a dozen sleeps. Not only does it make slithering through space smoother, it makes me look stunning. At least I think so, and considering I am the only creature with comprehension of beauty, that’s all that matters. My prey just ruined so many sleeps’ worth of work.

My grip tightens in retaliation. With a snap, the first rib shatters, signalling the collapse of the diosgris’ chest.

Now, what to do? Eat my prey alive, or digest it cold?

It is always so much more enjoyable to swallow them while they’re still warm and wriggling, unwittingly assisting in their own demise, but it can come back to bite me. A few too many times over my countless hunts, meals have been a touch too alive for comfort. Those were some agonising stomach pains.

Often, it is difficult to decide how much I need to crush prey so that they don’t cause a fuss while digesting, but also don’t die immediately. Some creatures are more resilient than others. It would be simple if every creature was the same; then I would know exactly how much I should crush them to have the perfect meal.

Four more snapping ribs and the tiger’s breath stops. The mammal goes limp. I loosen my hold before readjusting the legs of my prey. It doesn’t resist. Thankfully, the tiger is only unconscious and not dead. Whether it will live long enough to indulge me or leave me with an unsatisfactory meal, I’ll have to wait and see. My body winds around its legs, a bend in space conveniently allowing me to cut the distance between the diosgris’ head and tail.

If my food becomes active while it is being digested, its legs and claws will inflict the worst damage, so I crush the bones of Prey’s limbs to powder. It’s better off without them.

The tiger lets out a subdued whimper as its powerful legs become crippled. Good, it can still breathe.

My fangs slide from its neck as I reorient the creature within the grasp of my tail. It tumbles through a curve in space and lands within a coil of my tail, upright and ready to eat. My jaw widens, and I feel it unhinge around the head of the tiger. I almost can’t wrap my jaw around its large skull, but with small, incremental expansions and retractions, I pull my prey far enough into my throat that I can let it do most of the work.

My esophagus tugs at my food as my spine undulates. The combined motions within my body are slow to let me swallow, but eventually the pulped rear paws follow behind the rest of the tiger and I can shut my jaw again.

The tight, heavily bloated feeling is unbeatable, and it’s only made better with the ever so slight movements of my meal as it awakens. It won’t be long before my prey suffocates or drowns, but the tingling of electricity will make for a unique experience until it falls silent.

I slide along the earth, looking for the perfect place to rest while the tiger falls into my stomach. I soon find it; a spatial tube which allows gravity to pull my prey lower while my head and tail can stay prone on hard ground.

The comfortable filling feeling of my stomach full with warm meat, combined with tightness of the spatial bend lulls me into slumber. Out in the open. I am the predator of my territory. It has been a long time since I need be concerned where I sleep.

❖❖❖

My rest shatters, along with the cavern ceiling. I don’t move, as a bend carries the falling boulders away from me. Only small stones and gravel clatter against my scales through the mess of curving space.

The earth shakes beneath me. A deafening rumble tears through the air as my head and tail vibrate along with the surface. I raise my head and hiss. Dread wells within my stomach. Horrid memories filter to the surface of my mind.

The various bends in space are the same as when I fell asleep, with only some subtle variations, but nothing beyond expectations. The cavernous stone walls of the tunnel are identical, except for the sections experiencing cave-ins.

With a relieved hiss, the dread leaves me and my body slumps. I have not fallen within a rend. I am not on the Other Side; the land of destruction and eternal tectonic shifts.

This is simply a normal earthquake. Abnormally strong for my territory, but there’s no reason to fear; should the worst happen, and the earth caves in around me, I have my little pockets of space.

I hiss in annoyance as I slither forward, bringing my body off the surface and into a constant fall. Curling myself within the twisting space is hard — I can’t reduce my size to my preferred tiny form while digesting such large prey — but I manage. Half my body rests with gravity pulling me upward, and the other half down, leaving me in a perpetual spin where I am untouchable to any falling earth.

The quakes don’t continue for long. Lethargy overcomes me once more as the cyclic motions drain my energy. The first couple sleeps of digestion are always tiring.

❖❖❖

After a long rest, it is pleasing to find that the tunnel has not caved in. From the safety of my twisting space, it wouldn’t be hard to find my way out with a simple spatial bend, but waiting for the fluctuating space to dig new pathways through this side of my territory would be undesirable. Without the tunnels, worthy prey can’t enter my territory. At least, no large ones.

As I slither through space, intent on my favourite lounging rock, a strange sight catches my eye through a single rift in space. The jump is far, but not so great as to lead to the Other Side. I usually wouldn’t bother with a rift that travels so far, but what I see is intriguing. Space beyond is emptier than typical, extending an incredible distance without stone or rock to block its path.

Curiosity. An emotion relatively new to me. It comes bundled along with my improved conceptualisation, and while I don’t know whether it is a reason for my clearer thoughts or a result of them, it is something beyond the base desires that have pushed me forward all these hunts. I am curious of what lies through this rift.

Not a thought of doubt passes through my mind. If curiosity is an emotion that comes with enhanced thought, then it must be good. So, what else can I do but listen?

I slither through the hole and find myself in a cavern larger than I’ve ever seen. The ground is unhardened. A mess of loose stone and soil which likely fell during the earlier earthquakes. Space above is truly incomprehensible. Never have I been able to see this far unimpeded. At the very furthest edge of my sight, space itself is… aligned. It hardly twists, and neither holes nor rifts appear.

In contrast to above, space around me is unstable. The distortions change constantly, at a rate I’ve not seen anywhere but the amber barrier. It must be below all that fallen earth. When I focus on the space far above, an ever so slight ripple flows downward. Not like the bending of space that I know. It is subtle and leaves no effect upon the warping space, but it is present, and it is coming from above. Outside the range of my sight.

Leaving this place unexplored is impossible. For the many thousand hunts I’ve lived, never has such a strange phenomenon occurred. This open space wasn’t here a few sleeps ago. The knowledge is pleading for me to find it. Discover it. For no other purpose than to sate my curiosity. Would fulfilling this emotion give the same sort of satisfaction as consuming prey? Could it be better?

Slithering through the tunnels in space, I fall upward. To begin with, there is no difficulty. So close to the amber barrier, space twists in on itself tighter than I could ever need. My body slides through the optimal path, each bend and curve in space altering between pulling me higher and allowing gravity to add to my speed.

Ever higher I climb. Each hole I enter removes the need to follow a hundred bends. Distorted space is convenient, but only good path choice can make the difference. A skill honed over countless hunts to the point it is second nature. If not for my extensive experience, slithering upward would take a thousand times longer.

My vision remains unhindered as I climb. The space grows disturbingly uniform and the strange rippling intensifies. Curves and twists become far less common and harder to weave through, but spatial holes refuse to exist at all up here.

Does this voided column ever end? What will I find if it does? What is that ever so slight ripple?

My path becomes increasingly challenging to traverse. To take advantage of the smaller spatial tunnels, I shrink my body until my mostly digested meal feels tight to bursting. While the thinner size allows me to choose narrower tunnels in space, it doesn’t solve the growing concern of there being no paths ahead.

I’ve never seen space this structured before. The wide circular wall of this chasm is unnervingly straight. It is all too orderly, too inactive. Frighteningly so. Space does not provide any protection up here; no twists to hide in, no holes to flee.

Empty.

I can no longer stop; space doesn’t twist enough to allow it. All I can do is continue upward and trust that a path will make itself known.

That trust doesn’t last long. No path is possible anymore. The distance between each bend is too great to flow between. It would be ideal to slow my slithering, to give me even a small window to plan my next steps, but doing so is not something I can afford; I need the speed I’ve built up to jump between the next few distant bends.

My tongue flicks out with an agitated hiss. There is no more spatial distortion above, so I cast my gaze below. So much unfractured space is a daunting sight, but far below, there is an opportunity.

I angle myself out of the bend and fling myself sideways without a second thought. The fall is horrible. Never have I felt such a lack of control over my own movements. I wriggle and squirm, but without the familiar spatial distortions, there is no way to control my fall.

The descent is long, but the bend I need to target rapidly approaches, only… I cannot change my trajectory. Space in the area is simply too orderly to allow it. My body twists enough to allow my head to pass through first, but much of my tail misses. The sudden change in cohesive direction across my body inflicts an intense snapping pain through my spine, but my body remains whole and I pass through the intended bend.

All my focus is required to keep up this speed and navigate the complex weave of space without tearing myself apart. I was lucky I didn’t cleave my tail with how unclean that transition was. Despite the difficulty, this is something I’ve done more times than I can count. With diverging space at my disposal, I weave and slide through the air at a pace incomparable to before.

My speed builds even as I rise through the air because of my masterful path choice and execution. I blast past my last highest point, shooting between what little spatial bends remain. Finally, I can see no more curves that will help me in my climb, so I simply let my speed carry me. My long, slender body snaps straight, allowing me to coast with minimal wind.

The built up speed carries me for a good long while. Hope penetrates me. Have I done it? The strange rippling is all that remains to my perception besides the far stone walls, and it only grows stronger the higher I rise. It is hard to tell if it is the lack of disturbed space that allows me to see the ripples, or if the ripples only appear above. Whatever the case, I am impatient to get the answers to my questions.

My curiosity will be sated!

Only… it won’t be. Despite my immense speed, it isn’t enough. Gradually, my body slows until I can do nothing but flop around in the air while gravity achieves victory for the first time in a thousand hunts. Still, I cannot observe what lies above. This interest, this need to know, burns in me, but it is knowledge that I am forbidden from learning.

I fall again, rapidly descending into the depths I have always called my home. Whatever is above will forever remain out of reach. Without distorted space, no path exists.

I force my attention below; I’d rather not be torn apart or slammed into a wall because of negligence.

My efforts ended in failure and it feels far worse than simply going hungry after a failed hunt. I am frustrated, defeated, and unsatisfied. A failed hunt would result in a sleep without food, and maybe annoyance at my loss. This feels like something has been taken from me.

After raising my hopes, success being impossible leaves me as empty as the space above.

Curiosity is a curse.