WE GOT POWER!
Only took all weekend... just glad to be home, honestly. These tiny apartments get cold without heat.
That said, this chapter MIGHT be a bit rough.
<-<;; I MIGHT have totally forgotten the direction I was going with this one while the power was out. No power in the apartment means no power in my head too, apparently.
That said, I managed to reconstruct what I could from my notes. But your feed back is important too! tell me what you think!——————————————————
Jeremiah allowed Mero and Hazel a moment longer to study the contract before letting it roll closed.
Mero leaned back in the air, arms folded as he hovered just above Jeremiah’s shoulder.
“Doesn’t that contract seem a little one-sided, kid?” the fairy asked. “Remember, they’ve gotta be balanced if you want ’em to hold. You’re giving a lot for little more than their agreement not to bite the hand that feeds ’em.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Under normal circumstances, you’d be right. But this contract isn’t an exchange — it’s an entrance agreement. All we’re trying to do right now is establish a relationship.” He glanced toward the massive oak where the flock shifted among crimson leaves. “Adoptions come later. First, they need to see me as something other than a threat.”
Mero rubbed his chin slowly. “I see… since the end goal is travel between the glade and the shop, there’s some wiggle room. But ya still gotta offer something that justifies the non-aggression clause.” His grin sharpened. “And act as a lure.”
“Exactly.”
Mero tilted his head. “So what’s the plan ? Chuck it at the base of the tree and hope the don’t burn it?”
Jeremiah scratched at his cheek and reached into his pocket.
“That’s where I need to ask a favor.”
He pulled out a small stack of Ashen Blessing talismans.
Mero’s expression flattened instantly.
“Ya know I can’t help out with that, kid.”
Jeremiah frowned. “You helped at the tournament.”
Sure, Mero hadn’t helped the first time they were here either, but Jeremiah had assumed that was because Hazel had been acting as his guide at the time.
“That’s… different,” Mero said sheepishly.
Before Jeremiah could press him further, Hazel slid between them with a smirk.
“What he’s trying to say,” she said, “is that he’s not allowed to use Beast Talismans.”
Mero turned toward her and shot her a murderous glare.
Jeremiah blinked.
Mero sighed and rubbed his temple.
“Now that the cat’s outta the bag… yeah,” he admitted. “I’m not allowed to directly use anything given to you by the System that you couldn’t acquire on your own.”
Jeremiah frowned harder.
“Why am I just learning this?”
“Because it never came up,” Mero replied with a shrug. “Despite yer tendency to overthink everything, you’ve rarely asked for help with things. Even when ya probably should have.”
Jeremiah opened his mouth to argue, then paused.
That… wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
“So why is Hazel able to use them?” he asked instead. “She’s been helping with the nightly runs.”
Mero gestured vaguely toward her.
“Different duties. Hazel’s role is as an instructor. She’s here to help people learn what they’ve been given. Hard to do that if she can’t use the tools herself.” He tapped his chest lightly. “My role’s more… informative.”
Jeremiah took a deep breath.
“Fair enough.” It still irked him that he was learning these seemingly arbitrary rules so far into things, but there was no point stressing over it now. It wasn’t as if he’d planned on Mero being here in the first place.
He glanced toward the towering oak at the center of the clearing, where pale shapes flickered between crimson leaves.
“Can you at least keep an eye on the area?” he asked.
Mero grinned. “Now that I can do.”
Jeremiah nodded. It would have to do.
He turned and began dividing the talismans from the stack, handing several to Hazel. She accepted them without comment and slipped them neatly into her sleeve.
He held one out toward Billy.
The kraken hovered uncertainly for a moment before extending a single tentacle and wrapping it carefully around the charm.
“Remember,” Jeremiah said. “Stick to the edges of the clearing. If you start feeling funny, pull back to the trees. No repeat of last time.”
Billy bobbed firmly.
Satisfied, Jeremiah nodded once before addressing the group.
“We’ll stick to the pattern we’ve been using. Start at the edges and slowly work our way in. The flock is likely to notice the talismans as soon as they’re activated and come investigate. Try not to be around when they do.”
Mero raised a brow. “Wasn’t your goal to be seen?”
Jeremiah nodded. “It is, but we have to be careful here. We’ve only ever done this at night. The flock has never seen the talisman’s magic directly before. They’re likely to react with hostility if we just stroll into the clearing openly.”
He turned toward the oak, studying it for a brief moment before continuing.
“We need them to get used to seeing it first.”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why we started so early? You expect this to take some time, don’t you?”
It was Jeremiah’s turn to look sheepish. “Yeah… sorry in advance.”
Hazel shrugged. “Not like I’m unused to multitasking. Shall we get started?”
Jeremiah nodded, and the three of them split up.
Hazel turned away, her tail flicking once as she slipped toward the far side of the clearing. She moved easily through the berry bushes, stepping between the branches like a ghost.
Billy darted in the opposite direction, though he kept his flight slower and tighter this time. His bubble drifted low over the bushes, one tentacle carefully gripping the talismans.
Jeremiah remained where he was for a moment, watching them both take their positions.
Then he stepped into the field himself.
The first talisman activated with a quiet pulse of warmth between his fingers.
A heartbeat later, a soft cloud of pale ash spilled downward through the leaves like drifting snowfall.
The fine powder coated the nearby bushes and scattered across the ground in a faint gray dusting.
It touched the leaves first, the berries, and then the thin stems of the bush itself. The falling ash stirred the mites almost immediately — tiny specks scattering across the foliage as the blessing seeped into the plant before dropping to the ground like a crimson drizzle.
In two other sections of the clearing, similar ashen rains appeared a moment later.
At the far end of the clearing, the flock reacted almost instantly.
White wings burst from the oak canopy.
A handful of males darted through the branches, circling above the clearing in tight, sharp arcs. Their crests flickered faintly with nervous sparks as they watched the drifting ash.
Jeremiah turned and sprinted for the cover of the nearby forest.
Several Molotov cockatiels — the fiery female counterparts of the white Candlewicks — burst from the canopy like streaks of living flame. Their crimson feathers flashed as they swept low across the clearing, long tails streaming behind them and shedding drifting sparks. Several males broke away from the startled flock and followed close behind, forming a loose escort as they banked toward the pockets of gentle ashfall.
One of the red females, accompanied by three smaller white males, veered in Jeremiah’s direction.
Jeremiah crouched lower in the underbrush where he was hiding.
The Molotov landed on a high branch above the dusted bush, her tail flaring wide behind her. A faint shimmer of heat rippled along the edges of her feathers as she studied the ground below.
For a long moment, she simply watched the ash pile, occasionally puffing her feathers as stray sparks slipped free and drifted downward. She did not immediately turn in Jeremiah’s direction. The smaller males landed atop the nearby bushes and stared at the pale dusting with less open hostility than the female, though no less wariness.
After a time, curiosity seemed to win out.
One male hopped down from his perch and landed beside the small pile.
The female trilled sharply, but the male ignored her as he approached the ash. He circled it for several seconds, occasionally pecking at the powder as if testing its scent or texture. Finally, apparently satisfied, he hopped directly onto the mound.
He lowered his body, fluffed his feathers, and gave a vigorous shake.
A fine cloud of ash rose into the air, coating him from crest to tail.
Almost immediately, tiny red specks crawled free from between his feathers. They dropped to the ground, writhing faintly before going still.
The male gave an excited trill and began to bathe in earnest, kicking and shuddering as more of the irritating mites spilled free.
The other two males exchanged a quick glance before hopping down to join him.
Above them, the female watched with her feathers puffed in agitation. She shifted along the branch but made no move to stop the males.
After another moment, even she seemed tempted.
She fluttered down to a lower branch, leaning forward as she watched the bathing males, though every few seconds her head snapped up to scan the clearing.
A few more moments, and it seemed even she couldn’t resist.
With a sharp flick of her wings, she dropped into the ash pile beside them.
Jeremiah peered from his hiding place, taking advantage of the distraction to scan the clearing. In the distance, he could see similar scenes unfolding where the other talismans had been placed — white birds hopping cautiously into the ash while crimson shapes circled above.
Jeremiah grinned to himself.
Step one had been a success.
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Several hours passed in a steady, careful rhythm.
One of them would slip into the clearing, activate a talisman, then retreat before the flock could close the distance. Ash would fall in a soft cascade, dusting leaves and berries, and within moments the Candlewicks would descend in a rush of wings and sparks.
At first, each appearance of the ash would come with an air of tension.
The males approached with care, hopping along branches or circling overhead before daring to land. The females remained higher, watching from the canopy with restless movements. But with each repetition, that hesitation dwindled.
After some time, the moment the ash started to fall, males broke from the branches immediately. They dropped toward the dusted bushes in quick, eager dives, landing almost before the first layer had settled. A few still tested the ground, hopping along the edges with cautious pecks, but most plunged straight in, fluffing their feathers and kicking up ash with visible relief.
Jeremiah watched from the treeline, tracking every reaction.
As the hours stretched on, he began to push at the edges of their tolerance.
He lingered a heartbeat longer beneath the drifting ash before retreating. Then two. Then five.
The first time he stayed too long, a streak of crimson tore through the air and burst against the brush where he’d stood a moment before. Heat washed over his back as he ducked into cover, the sharp scent of scorched leaves chasing him into the trees.
He didn’t stop running until the forest swallowed him.
When he returned to his hiding place, he glanced back into the clearing and grinned.
The males hadn’t abandoned the ash pile.
The second time he lingered, the fireball came a heartbeat later. The third, later still.
With each pass, he made himself more visible. Not enough to provoke a full swarm like that first night, but enough to be noticed — enough to exist within their awareness. By the seventh attempt, no fire chased him away, though an angry-looking female circled high above, scanning for the source of the disturbance.
“Alright…” he murmured under his breath.
He could work with that.
The next step went similarly, though with one major change on his part.
Rather than sneaking through the bushes and activating the talisman, Jeremiah moved through the clearing openly, being sure that the flock could see him. The flock reacted exactly as expected.
Forms burst from the great tree. A low, rising chorus of trills cut through the air, sharper than before. Several males took to the sky, small flames flickering along their crests.
Instead of bolting immediately, Jeremiah drew a steady breath and activated the talisman. Pale ash drifted down around him, blurring his outline as the flock closed in. He used the cover to step back, slipping away before they reached him.
The second time, the flock didn’t dive into the forest immediately. They circled instead, wary, their attention split between the drifting ash and the direction he’d fled.
Jeremiah crouched low in the brush and watched.
“Come on…” he murmured.
A long moment stretched.
One male dipped lower — not toward him, but toward the forming ash pile.
Another followed.
Soon enough, a small group of males filled the ash pile, though their movements were slower and more cautious.
From his hiding place, Jeremiah allowed himself a small grin.
He repeated the process.
Again. And again.
Each time, he lingered a little longer before retreating. Each time, the flock’s reaction softened.
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, the change was clear.
He no longer needed to flee the moment he was seen. Now, when he stepped into the clearing, a handful of males would lift from their perches and glide lazily in his direction. If he lingered too long, one of the females might bristle and move to drive him off, but the fireballs came less often, and the distance they chased him shrank with each appearance.
When he could stand at the edge of the clearing and openly watch the males bathing in the ash while a nearby female tracked him from her perch, sharp eyes never leaving him, he knew he’d crossed a threshold.
They still weren’t welcoming.
But they were no longer driving him away. Progress.
As the daylight dimmed, Jeremiah and the others regrouped in the forest.
Mero drifted in a slow circle overhead, arms folded as he studied the flock. Hazel stepped out from the brush a moment later, brushing leaves from her sleeve as her gaze moved between the birds and Jeremiah.
“Well,” Mero said, one brow lifting, “I’m surprised that worked. How’d ya know it would?”
Jeremiah smirked faintly and rolled his shoulder. “It’s not that different from how field researchers approach wild animals,” he said. “You introduce something beneficial, then build familiarity around it. Over time, the subject stops seeing you as a threat.”
He shrugged. “Of course, it usually takes longer. Days, sometimes weeks. But the Candlewicks are more intelligent than most animals, with strong pattern recognition skills.”
Hazel’s ears flicked as she considered that. “That’s why we’ve been coming out here every night,” she said. “You were conditioning them to associate the ash with a positive experience.”
“More or less.” Jeremiah nodded. “We just needed them to associate it with us as well.”
Mero hummed, tilting his head. “So what now?”
Jeremiah’s grin sharpened.
“We’ve chummed the water. Now it’s time to bait the hook.”
He crouched and pulled the birdhouse from his pack, along with a collapsible stand. The metal segments snapped together with a series of quick adjustments, extending upward into a tall, narrow pole.
“Wait,” Mero said with a frown. “That’s it? Feels a little… underwhelming.”
Jeremiah raised a brow. “What else did you expect? These aren’t songbirds. If you haven’t noticed, they’re extremely territorial. Even if I’d installed it overnight, they wouldn’t have approached it. More likely, they’d have destroyed it on sight.” He adjusted his grip on the stand. “The goal today was to get the flock to associate us with something positive. Enough that they’d at least be curious.”
He rose and stepped toward the clearing, birdhouse in hand.
Several males broke from the canopy and angled toward him immediately. They landed a distance away, perched along the bushes as they watched.
Jeremiah kept his movements slow and controlled, but didn’t reach for a talisman just yet.
Instead, he drove the stand into the ground, testing it once before letting go. He mounted the birdhouse at the top, securing it with a quick twist.
As a final touch, he clipped a small dish — one he’d picked up from the System store for a couple of marks — to the side of the stand. It was marketed as a birdbath, but it would hold ash just as well.
Only then did he draw a talisman.
He activated it with a quiet pulse, and ash began to fall. He scooped a few handfuls into the dish before retreating toward the treeline.
The first male moved almost as soon as Jeremiah slipped into cover. Others followed. Most ignored the new structure entirely, focusing on the ground-level piles.
All but one.
A larger male landed lightly on the edge of the dish and tilted its head, crest flickering faintly as it studied the unfamiliar perch. It circled the dish in small hops, pecking at the reflective metal a few times.
Then it turned and stared directly at Jeremiah.
For a brief moment, they held each other’s gaze.
Jeremiah smiled before taking a step back.
And another.
Satisfied, he turned and began walking toward the treeline.
“KID! LOOK OUT!”
Mero’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.
Jeremiah spun, Twin Boundaries snapping into his grip as his pulse surged, bracing for the familiar streak of fire.
Instead, he caught movement at the edge of his vision.
A blur tore through the underbrush, weaving between bushes with startling speed. Leaves snapped and bent in its wake, cutting a clean line through the clearing. Even with his stats boosted by his uniform, Jeremiah struggled to track it through the thick foliage.
Then he glimpsed mottled green scales, blending almost perfectly with the foliage.
A screen flickered into existence as the wolf-sized creature burst free of cover, its jaws stretched wide as it lunged.
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Undergrowth Monitor
Grade: F - 1.2
Mental - (G): 0.2
Physical - (F): 1.2
Supernatural - (G): 0
Rarity: Common
Pedigree: ★★
Ecology: What the Undergrowth Monitor lacks in brains, it makes up for in resilience and bullheadedness. Scavengers by nature, their armor-like skin and powerful regenerative abilities protect the Undergrowth Monitor as they simply walk up to another creature’s kill and take what they want. However, these same scales make them effective ambush predators when the opportunity arises. Hikers are advised to avoid patches of think vegetation or shadowed rocky outcrops.
Most beasts of the forest quickly learn to ignore the monitors and share their kill, as getting between an Undergrowth Monitor and its meal is rarely worth the extra effort.
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