Kin of Jörmungandr

Unhindered by the tall walls of stone that once surrounded me, wind screams through the air. It whips back and forth, unable to choose a direction, but never silent. Earthen tremors accompany each change. The ground rises and falls where before it lay still, waves along a sea of gravel.

The environment is difficult to fight against. Simply holding myself above the surface with Scia wrapped in a safe coil of my tail is a challenge. The ground underneath wants to swallow me, while the intense gusts try to bury me in dust.

But the lynx stands unaffected by that which I can barely hold against. Fluid rock laps at its legs, but none so much as move. Wind slams into its glistening fur, but the dirt does not stick. I’ve never been envious of another creature’s skin before — especially not the hide of a mammal — but I cannot deny the beauty of that cleanliness. My own scales are a buffeted and filthy comparison.

The tall beast stares off into the distance, watching what is most certainly the Titan out of my sight. For a moment, a mixture of fury and frustration hits my mind as I find another being with apparently better sight than my own, but I strangle that thought before it can bloom. This is not the time.

Annoyance, resignation and — strangest of all — the slightest slimmer of fear are all present in the way the lynx stands. I’m not certain if I’m simply misinterpreting the body-language of a creature I’m not all that familiar with, but it stands like an ambushed animal, unsure whether it should flee, or remain still in hopes it won’t be noticed. I’ve seen plenty of smaller predators do the same when I caught them mid-hunt.

Though, the lynx is not any simple predator; it holds the greatest strength I’ve seen.

In a way, it’s somewhat relieving. A Titan is as horrifying to it as it is to me. As great as that is to know, it doesn’t change the fact that a Titan is getting closer; the increasingly heavy thumps that shake the world make that obvious.

The lynx turns, finally snapping its eyes from the horror beyond the range of my sight, ready to run. Unfortunately, it’s sight lands on me. Halting its turn, it faces me directly, snarling and baring its large, diamond fangs. No growling reaches my ears over the rumble of the earth and roar of the wind.

The feline’s massive claws clench, and I watch dozens of spiky crystalline growths rise from the ground around each foot. The churning earth feuds against the solid growths, lapping at the crystal and splashing shrapnel up into the cat’s underside. It barely pays the rock crashing against it any mind.

The storm grows stronger, whipping up more dust than ever. Stones far heavier than wind can carry — should carry are hefted through the air.

The lynx crouches, readying itself to pounce. Despite the threat of the oncoming Titan, the damn thing holds its grudge.

I brace myself. There is no running from this beast if it attacks. Already at full size, I’m in the best fighting shape I can be without distortions to rely on. I’m as large as I can grow, and yet I’m still tiny compared to this beast. If I coiled up, I’d fit in the beasts mouth.

The very thought of being eaten sends a burst of refusal through me. Anger originating from pride and indignation that an apex such as myself would be eaten. It is illogical; this beast is clearly my predator. But I ignore logic and welcome the fury. The time to hide like prey is past. There is no more escape, so I must fight for my life. I must fight for our lives.

Even if that means accepting the pride and fury that have caused me so many issues.

A hiss escapes my chest. The sound lost amongst the cacophony, but the vibrations thrum through my chest. A challenge. One that the lynx recognises immediately.

The massive feline’s eyes narrow, and it’s legs tense, but before it can leap, a boulder half as thick as myself crashes between us. Instantly, my sight is drowned by the mountain of earth flung skyward. As the immense momentum of the rock disperses through the gravel, it erupts, filling the air with shrapnel and dust.

The lynx is no longer in sight.

I spring to the side, barely avoiding the sharp fangs of the beast as it pierces the shroud. There is enough power in my leap that the lynx soon leaves my sight again, an explosion of rock clattering off my scales from the feline’s landing.

As soon as I touch ground, I dart off to one side, giving the larger, faster beast no opportunity to catch me. I take space to consider my approach. The pseudo-Titan crashes where I was a mere moment ago, as expected.

Thankfully, the lynx is as blind in this obscurement as I am. It may not be as beneficial as my warped space, but it is all I have, and I will use it to my advantage.

I slither around to the side, keeping out of sight of where I assume the beast to be, and wait for an opportunity. The subtle cracks and thuds of the lynx’s steps — near drowned out by the roar of all else as they are — are the only warning I have to its movements. Its artificial crystal footholds fracture under the power of its pounces, and the subdued crunch of earth as it lands gives its attacks away, but the casual steps are inaudible.

I could move so much faster if I didn’t have to hold Scia curled in a ball. As things are, I’m fighting something greater than myself without the full use of my tail. It makes this so much harder… but I can’t bring her out into these winds; the speed of the dust alone will tear through her fragile body.

The only way I’ll have a chance against this beast, is if I get it in a perfect lock around its neck. My length should be enough to wrap around its muscular throat — just — so if I can bite into the base of the lynx’s head, I might have a chance.

Of course, the problem is how?

A thump from my right has me circle around the point, considering how to attack.

Something moves at the corner of my eye. The other side of the thump. I stop, and throw myself backward. The lynx lands before me, masses of crystal growing to halt its immense weight. I have no time to react before the claws come down, scraping through my scales as if they posed no opposition, and batters me away.

Pain floods through me, but the fury and pride flooding my veins bury the feeling beneath a tide of energy. The frustration at being caught off guard pushing me forward.

Did I mistake it’s leap for a boulder crash? Or did it intentionally throw me off?

Is this lynx sapient? Intelligent enough to understand what I was doing and plan against it? It shouldn’t be strange; this beast is stronger, and likely far older than myself, so why wouldn’t it be as intelligent?

Does it’s sapience mean it will react to my efforts to strike it in ways I’ve not seen before? I’ve never fought a creature I could actually consider smart — the Titan cannot count as a fight — so how will this lynx react differently than other predators? Could any plan of mine work?

I slam into the earth, and roll over to watch the tall feline approach. It’s snarl still firmly marring its features.

No. This is no time to concern myself with what-ifs. If we don’t take a risk, then we won’t survive.

I uncurl my tail only enough to eye Scia. A hiss escapes my lips that I’m unsure she can hear over the turbulent cavern around us, but hopefully she understands what I want from the look I give her.

Scia’s shell of scales remains cracked just enough for her to get a glimpse of the pseudo-Titan approaching, but not enough for the intense winds to strike at her. She has her job, and I trust her enough to do what she needs to, otherwise, it is both our deaths that will follow.

I raise my head off the shattered grains of rock that continue to churn below. Raised high, I glare at the stalking lynx. The beast takes that as well as I probably would; it snarls, whiskers and upper lips rising to reveal more of those diamond incisors. Obviously, it shares the outrage of perceived prey acting like it’s greater than itself.

I hiss, lifting myself further off the earth to come as close to eye level with the beast as I can. I don’t come close. Too much of my body must remain on the earth to prevent sinking beneath the undulation.

Regardless, it has the desired effect. The lynx leaps forward, determined to tear me to shreds for the slight. In an instant, I drop to the earth and spring forward, intent on meeting the giant half-way.

The deep, bleeding wounds in my side scream in pain as the sharp claws that inflicted them close in rapidly. The feline’s collection of fangs follow a moment behind, but are no less terrifying.

I’ve always considered my large form far too bulky. Too unwieldy for the caverns I come from. But right here, beneath the sheer mass of this lynx, I feel tiny. It’s like I’m in my smallest form, yet without any of the benefits.

My body snaps straight. In the next moment, I might very well be dead. I hold no illusions that luck will save me if those claws strike me from here. A grazing blow was enough to expose my innards; anything direct will be instant death.

I find myself watching those diamond blades fall closer with each moment as I wait for Scia. They split wind as if it were solid. The sharp edges slice through a thousand motes of dust and earthen shrapnel, leaving nothing but a spinning trail of clean-cut particles behind.

A distortion appears, and I flow through easily. The deadly claws slice through empty air, first striking the path I no longer travel, then swinging for my body which is no longer there. Scia accomplishes her task splendidly. Now it’s my turn.

My jaw opens as wide as it can. The pair of large upper fangs fold out from my mouth, and aim at the neck of the lynx. Scia couldn’t have given me a more perfect line of attack. This has to be the furthest bend she’s been able to create; allowing me to go from one side of the beasts body to the other, and at my full size too.

I can’t feel her minuscule weight, but I can only hope she hasn’t pushed herself too far.

So much is riding on my success. If this combined effort between the two of us doesn’t work, then we are dead. My fangs slam into the ideal location, with the full momentum of my strike. The impact sends a jolt through my spine. Pain consumes my fangs, but I curl up on instinct, trying to drag my body around its neck.

Only after the ringing leaves my ears do I realise what happened; I failed. I couldn’t penetrate the crystalline fur of the beast.

My head bounced off the creature’s hide without leaving a scratch, but my quick reaction still allows my tail to wrap around its neck. I wrap the tip of my tail — with Scia still protected within — around my head, and clamp tight. My teeth still ache, but I keep my jaw wide and try to pierce past the impossibly hard fur.

Only barely am I long enough to wrap around the thick musculature of the lynx’s neck, but now that I’m here, I clench as tightly as I can. My fangs scrape against crystal with a horribly unsettling vibration that sends discomfort all through me. I twist my head, trying to slide them in somehow, but it is an effort in vain. While not giving up on piercing the feline’s body, I constrict tighter than ever. With only a single loop of my body, it is difficult, but pulling my tail toward my head allows me some strength.

If I can suffocate the lynx, or cut off its circulation, I can still win. Even if I can’t bite down and lock my position, I still have a chance. I just need to hold on.

Despite my desperation, the first claw to strike at me has enough power to dislodge me. I don’t have so much as a moment to fight against it; I’m clinging tight with all I’ve got, then I’m suddenly flung through the air.

Before I’m tossed away, I can’t help but focus on the large diamond piercing through my midsection. There is no pain. Just the strange sight of my own body being pierced easier than a soft mushroom. Really, as I watch it tear up my insides, crippling my lower spine, I am thankful it was only the one. Any more of those massive claws through my body, and I’d be dead in an instant.

As I slam back to the earth, I scoff at the thought. Would it really matter that I didn’t die in an instant, if I’m going to die a moment later, regardless?

I crack open the coil of my tail and spot Scia passed out. Likely because of the effort of creating that distortion. She succeeded in her task, but I could not do the same.

The only option I have left is to allow myself to be swallowed by the churning earth. I don’t hesitate, and wriggle my body — lower tail now sluggish and weak — trying to pull myself beneath the waves of gravel.

For the shortest of instants, it looks like it is going to work; rock flows over me and I’m sucked down into the depths. I hadn’t wanted to do this before because it was just as dangerous as facing the pseudo-Titan head on, but in this position, I have no other option.

But before I can celebrate, I stop sinking. The ground beneath me suddenly stills despite the churning rock all around and the gale winds whipping through the cavern. Diamond shards pierce out of the gravel around me, and I find myself rising. A spike pierces my wound, igniting a pain within that I hadn’t felt from the claws of the lynx.

I jolt against the crystal as it lifts me above the earth, but I am pinned. Unable to break it, nor pull myself off. I am impaled upon a diamond stalagmite that rises from the earth with a ring of smaller, but no less sharp crystals.

The lynx approaches with an air of superiority, but it is still overshadowed by the rage bubbling beneath the surface. It growls, this time as audible as the presence it unleashes.

The storm shifts, and a titanic roar overwhelms all.