Kin of Jörmungandr

I’m fleeing before I can even comprehend why.

That was a Titan. Nothing else could have that intense of a presence. Nothing else could send such an instinctive terror through my spine.

I whip through hole after rift, doing everything I can to move as far from the abyss as I can. I hate that I flee like a coward, but what can I do against a Titan? They are impossible existences. Beyond any rule of nature I understand.

I hate that I’m no longer the strongest predator of these tunnels. Whether they’ve invaded my territory or have always been here, but hidden, it doesn’t matter; they have ripped away the superiority that was always mine. I am not some prey that flees in the face of danger.

And yet here I am.

The world has grown quiet around me, more so than ever, and I rip through space to get as far from what terrifies me; just like any prey. The thought angers me. It irritates me. But worst of all, it frightens me.

There is a difference between having competition as a predator and becoming prey. After not encountering the Titan more than the once, I’d considered it a one time thing. A fluke. But this is the second monstrous presence I’ve felt. I need to accept it: I’m no longer the apex. I’m no longer the strongest creature of these tunnels. Not even close.

Never would I have thought it would affect me so much. Not that I ever expected to be on the other end… to be prey. But it does. To the Titans, I am prey. And by the law of the world, fleeing is what I must do. But it feels horrible.

Scia hasn’t been able to move since the momentary flash of pressure. Nor has any of the other creatures in my sight. They each stand frozen in whatever position they were before the all-piercing shatter tore through the world. Scia only holds on with those permanently clenched claws that cling to my scales.

As I slither through weaves of space along the amber barrier, my gaze continually flickers to the edges of my sight. Every new hole I pass through, I expect the spaceless void of the Titan to creep up on us. To swallow the earth as it hunts us.

It never comes.

As the world around me slowly appears to flow back into motion, I force myself to calm down and think. Nothing is chasing me. No Titan waits through the next hole to eat me. Titans exist, and whether that one down in the abyss is the same as the one that destroyed my home or some other, it does not care about me.

I am not worth the effort.

While the thought that I’m not even worth hunting in their eyes lashes at my mind, I hold myself steady. There will be no succumbing to pride and facing a beast far greater than myself this time. I can feel it trying; to send me back and face down the terror that dares proclaim itself superior to myself. But I don’t let it. I am not so unfamiliar with the emotion any longer. It cannot sway me into suicidal actions this time.

Scia finally squeaks, having overcome the petrification, and wraps her wings as far around my head as she can reach. I let out a relieved hiss as I focus my attention to her.

Jötnorm. Listen to me.

I freeze. Not out of fear, but because the voice of the beyond is clearer than I’ve ever heard. So clear, that every word spoken previously now seem muffled.

The barrier is weak. Soon we shall roam the lands and extirpate the parasitic infestation. Realm-Breacher, leave the subsurface and await our arrival lest you join the annihilation.

The Beyond speaks with clarity and cognisance, something I’d considered impossible until now. What do you mean by Realm-Breacher? Leave where? I focus my questions toward the Beyond. As always, not expecting a response.

We gifted you intelligence, therefor giving you connection beyond your realm; Realm-Breacher. Do not linger, the warped tunnels shall not remain whole forever.

Not only is the Beyond aware, but it is capable of directly responding to questions more complex than requests for species names. This is incredible. All fears and thoughts of the Titan on my tail are forgotten. What can I ask? What have I always wanted to know?

What does it mean to be sapient? What determined that I receive awareness and not others? Why must it be bogged down by emotion?

Waste no time with unnecessary questions. Sapience is a means of passage and nothing more. Leave for the surface, or die as… we… e… a…

The Beyond’s speech grows difficult to parse. It peters off into a similar muffled simplistic response before dying out completely.

My eyes fall on Scia who is not privy to the words of the Beyond. She still appears shaken from the intense presence, doing everything she can to cling closer to me.

Then, how do I leave the warped tunnels? I ask. If the Beyond is so adamant about me leaving, then it should give me a proper answer.

There is no response. So soon after it showed greater awareness than I’ve seen, does it decide to curl up and hide away again. Frustrated at its unsatisfactory answers, I ask it a simple question it’s always been able to answer. What is my species?

Nothing. Not even the typical answer. I’ve seen it refuse to name some things, but never has that included myself. I go through a dozen questions, all of which should be easy to answer, but it doesn’t. It remains disturbingly absent.

It’s almost like… it’s gone.

The Beyond has left me.

I don’t have time to dwell on it, as the moment I realise it’s no longer with me, the world decides it has not yet inflicted enough chaos.

It starts slow; the amber barrier above makes the slightest movement. I barely even notice it as every distortion begins flickering, like they’re ready to fail. All of them at once. Only when the deafening grind of rock screeches through my ears does the world moving around the distortions become apparent.

All life has gradually returned to motion after the Titan’s pressure washed through, but this isn’t normal. This is beyond normal motion. The amber barrier slides along, fracturing all distortions anywhere near it any time they break, they shear the air with a ripping howl, nothing similar to the silence of their natural closing. But the holes and bends aren’t only closing, thousands tear open in place of the old ones, these ones dangerously unstable and collapse in on themselves within an instant.

I try to angle us away from the amber barrier as it suddenly picks up pace, but everything seems to flow around me. Nothing appears safe. The rock walls begin grinding against one another, constantly caving in on themselves. Any path that I find that might take us somewhere safe collapses before I can snap forward.

For the first time ever, spatial bends are not my friend. Any time I pass through one, it destabilises and collapses under the strain. I focus everything I can on simply keeping Scia and myself from being ripped apart by the next agitated distortion.

There is nowhere to land; all earth is somehow less stable than the space itself, crumbling into massive seas of gravel. In some places, the grinding of rock grows so strong the stone heats into pools of magma.

How has this happened? It was only a minute ago that everything seemed fine. We were having a pleasant swim along the relatively stable distortions, and now the world tears itself apart.

Is this what the Beyond spoke of? I’d dismissed it when it was the Titan that warned of my home collapsing. I hadn’t believed it. Until now, I’d only searched for a way out to prove the new emotions infecting my mind weren’t influencing my actions. Now that the Beyond says the same, I realise I should have taken it more seriously.

Is it too late for us? Are the warped tunnels going to collapse with Scia and myself still stuck in here? If only the Beyond told me how to do so. I’ve been searching, but I still can’t see any clear path.

The quakes shaking the air are far worse than that of the Other Side.

Plenty of rifts lead to areas that appear safer, but any time I slither toward them, they collapse, leaving us stranded near the moving impassable wall. Strangely, the rapidly reforming rifts almost always lead to somewhere along the amber barrier. With the collapse of each hole that leads somewhere relatively safe, they are replaced with another to some far region of the wall that experiences identical circumstances.

No matter where it is along the sleek surface, the earth grinds along, shearing away and disrupting distortions while rock shatters.

A rift appears right inside a scale, shearing it off and leaving a gash along my recently shed skin. I would have been fine had it been a bend that had formed, but the far stronger distorted effect of the rift is enough to shear right through my scales.

I dive through a bend that appears before my face, barely squeezing Scia through the tight passage before I feel it trying to close behind me. The strength of my scales hold it off long enough to make it through, but every movement is becoming just as difficult. With how rapid they are collapsing on themselves, I dare not dive through rifts or rends, but the longer I last, the more impossible that seems.

In normal circumstances, bends are far more frequent than holes or anything that travels further. But right now, they are disappearing as fast as the stronger distortions appear. There are now just as many holes as there are bends. That’s a prospect I couldn’t imagine before now.

Each moment this continues, the further the average distortion leads. This cannot keep up. If I do not find somewhere safe to lead us, the only outcome will be death, and not just for Scia.

My eyes dart around faster than they’ve ever moved. Each moment, I find a path… which immediately collapses the moment I flick toward it. Only my rapid reaction time keeps us going. I gravitate toward paths that take the least distortions as possible. Both to limit the points where the path can collapse, and so I don’t have to risk passing through so many absolutely unstable holes.

The pockets of magma forming from the quaking earth are starting to leak into the twisted space between the moving amber barrier and the former buildup of rock. The area that once was filled exclusively with distortions. Without their stability, the distortions can no longer sustain the buffer region that holds back external forces.

All this does is make my job harder; I cannot swim through the blobs of magma now flowing into the area lest it hurt Scia.

I make a mistake.

My head is already half-way through the rift when I realise it has destabilised earlier than I expected. I snap forward, intending to at least get all of Scia through before it clamps down on my scales.

The little bat’s ears twitch and I watch as the collapsing rift falters long enough to slide through. She was able to momentarily stop it collapsing? This is incredible.

I whip my head to the next nearest rift, asking Scia to hold it open just long enough for us to get through. If she can, then we are safe. It leads just outside the devastated region. We’ll be able to slither along the ground where there’s no threat of our bends collapsing on us.

Scia chirps in confirmation, a little look of determination spreading across her small face. I let out a hiss in return, pleased.

I crack my body forward, ready to combine my efforts with Scia’s to finally escape this horrid scenario.

Only, it isn’t to be.

A rend reaching an impossible distance appears before us. I cannot stop. I coil up and try to throw us away, but it’s already too late. We are heading through this distortion and there’s no stopping it.

Unwillingly, I slide through.

I whip back, hoping to go through the rend and return the way we came, but it isn’t to be. The distortion collapses and we are stranded. Anywhere else I would have preferred. Anywhere else wouldn’t be so horribly daunting of a prospect.

Anywhere but the Other Side.