The Madman's Guide to Miracles

I kept walking, battered and exhausted

The forest was vast, with winding rivers cutting through the trees and dense undergrowth stretching as far as I could see.

Riddled with what looked like footprints, deep gouges, and patches of churned earth. Whatever had passed through here hadn’t been small. Some tracks looked like they belonged to creatures. Others were too mangled to tell whether they had been made by something walking, fighting, or being dragged through the mud.

I slowed down as I approached one of the larger impressions in the ground.

I squinted down at it.

"Scary."

The place became completely different, at least in this area. I don’t even know how far away I am from here anymore. On the map, the Broodmother’s territory was much farther from the others, but not this far. I didn’t expect the forest to be this huge. And from the looks of it, the deeper I go, the more dangerous it gets.

I’ll be truthful... I’m sort of scared right now. I’m as vulnerable as a rat. If something catches me out here, I’m screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

I need somewhere to rest.

Before I could continue my monologue, I heard a series of heavy smacks against the ground, followed by the sound of something chewing.

I immediately hid behind a large tree branch and carefully peeked out.

Is it someone.. Or is it mutated humans or..

What greeted my sight was...

Six of them.

They were hunched over the remains of something enormous, tearing into it with their claws and teeth. Their bodies were thin and twisted, with unnaturally long limbs and hard shells covering their backs and shoulders. Their mouths were wide enough to bite through thick chunks of flesh, and every few seconds one of them would slam part of the corpse against the ground before tearing into it again.

The thing they were eating looked like it had come from the river.

Its body was bloated and horribly misshapen, with thick layers of pale flesh hanging from its sides. Part of its body had been torn open, leaving dark blood and organs scattered across the ground. I could still see bits of what looked like fins along its back.

I covered my mouth.

Oh, fuck.

I felt my stomach twist.

Don’t puke. Don’t puke, damn it.

I swallowed the bile burning my throat and forced myself to observe. Rule one of survival: know what’s killing you. But the sight made my stomach churn violently.

This also meant the river was completely unsafe. My gaze returned to the water. I had been walking alongside the river the whole time, thinking about resting nearby and planning to drink from it.

What the hell was I thinking?

This was the first time I’d ever seen an actual monster that wasn’t humanoid.

I’d fought Horrors before. I’d killed things before. But those had still looked enough like people for my brain to understand what I was looking at.

These things didn’t.

These things were wrong. They were pure, unadulterated abominations

One of the creatures tore a thick strip of pale blubber from the corpse, sending a fresh spray of black blood across the dirt.

I immediately looked away.

My stomach lurched again.

Shit.

I’m going to throw up.

I whipped my head back, pressing my forehead against the rough bark. I’m going to purge. God, I’m going to vomit.

Desperate to assess their blind spots, I carefully shifted my weight on the root.

A sudden, white-hot flare of agony shot through my injured arm. I flinched—a minor, microscopic twitch—but it was enough.

The wet crunching stopped.

One of the creatures lifted its head, its dripping mandibles twitching as it tested the air. A second one turned slowly toward my tree. My heart plummeted into my stomach, hammering so hard I thought it would burst my ribs. The first creature detached itself from the pack, its long, sickle-like claws scraping softly, rhythmically against the damp soil.

No, no, no. Hold your breath. Don’t move.

Then, I felt a sickly warmth slide down my forearm.

A single, heavy drop of blood slipped past my sleeve.

Plop–

The creature froze.

Its head snapped toward the sound with terrifying exactness. It lowered its body, sniffing the dark earth where the blood had landed, before creeping around the trunk. I squeezed my eyes shut, clapping my good hand over the wound, but it was useless.

A long, gray claw slowly curled around the edge of the bark. Then came the face—faceless chitin, needle-like teeth, and hollow, dead eyes.

Our gazes locked.

My stomach dropped.

Another drop of blood fell from my sleeve.

My mind went blank for a second before I remembered the bandage. The sealed bandage from the Merchant. It’s still in my dimensional pouch.

You idiot! my mind screamed. Bloodburst turned your brain into absolute slush! You should have applied it the second the Broodmother fell!

I reached for the pouch, fumbling as panic started creeping in. Come on, come on... Where is it? My fingers finally found the bandage, but by then the creature had already started moving around the tree. I didn’t wait to see what it would do. I grabbed it and stumbled into a run.

For fuck’s sake.

I can’t fight these things like this.

Only one of them followed.

Why only one?! My mind raced as I dodged through the roots. Is it greedy? Does it not want to share the fresh meat? Or... does it just know I’m already half-dead?

I didn’t have time to figure it out.

The creature suddenly lunged.

"KRRR-TAK-TAK-SKREEE!" The creature slammed its front claws into the churned mud, thrashing its heavy head side to side. The noise was a heavy, suffocating roar that choked mid-way through, turning into a desperate, furious shriek that shook loose leaves from the canopy above us.

The air hissed behind me. I threw my body into the mud, feeling the rush of wind as its claws sheared cleanly through a three-inch branch right where my neck had been a second ago. I hit the ground hard, the impact driving a agonizing scream straight into my lungs as my ruined arm took the brunt of the fall.

"Curse it!" I scrambled back onto my feet, my legs shaking like wet paper.

My vision swam with red dots. My lungs felt like they were full of sand.

Behind me, the clicking of its claws grew deafening. It moved like a spider through the canopy, weaving effortlessly between the trunks, closing the distance in terrifying bounds.

I can’t outrun it. I’m exhausted. My body is failing.

My foot caught a exposed root. I stumbled, air rushing out of me as I barely managed to keep my balance, my heart thumping wildly against my throat.

If it corners me like this, I’m dead.

I skidded to a halt, drawing a ragged breath, and reached into my pouch.

I have to fight.

I yanked Mercy from the pouch.

The heavy butcher’s cleaver felt like a block of lead in my trembling grip. Its broad, black-iron blade hummed with a faint, greasy chill, but right now, my muscles were so spent I could barely keep the edge pointing forward.

Bloodburst was taking its final toll. The synthetic adrenaline was completely gone, leaving my nervous system frying in reverse. My joints felt like they were filled with crushed glass, and the Broodmother’s curse pulsed through my veins like boiling tar.

Think, damn it. Use your head, I forced myself to focus through the swimming red haze. You can’t overpower it. You can’t outrun it. Make it overcommit.

The creature didn’t hesitate. Seeing me stop, it unhinged its lower jaw, letting out a wet, rattling shrieking roar—

"GRR-AAGH-KKKH-SKREE!"

It launched itself straight at my chest, sickle-claws spread wide to shred me alive.

It was fast, but it was predictable. It was hunting like a mindless beast, expecting a broken meal to just fold.

Instead of dodging away, I stepped into its reach, dropping my center of gravity to the mud.

The beast’s heavy carapace soared right over my head. As it passed, I swung Mercy upward with every last scrap of strength in my torso.

Clang-CRACK!

The heavy cleaver caught the creature right at the unarmored joint where its rear leg met the torso. Black, foul-smelling blood sprayed across my face as the blade sheared through thin chitin and gristle.

"KKK-EEEEEE-AAGHHHH!"

It screeched in agony, its trajectory ruined. It slammed sideways into a thick oak tree with a bone-shattering crunch, cracking the bark and tumbling hard into the churned earth.

"Ha... ha..." I dragged air into my burning lungs, my arms shaking so violently I almost dropped the cleaver.

It was down, but it wasn’t dead.

The abomination thrashed in the dirt, rolling onto its remaining legs. Its dark eyes locked onto me, burning with pure, rabid fury. Even missing a leg, it pulled itself forward with terrifying speed, dragging its bleeding stump through the mud.

I raised Mercy to finish it, but my knees buckled.

No—not now—!

My balance gave out just a fraction of a second too early. I swung for its neck, but the exhaustion ruined my aim.

THUD.

Mercy buried itself deep into the creature’s heavy shoulder carapace, getting wedged tight in the thick bone. I tried to wrench it free, but my fingers had zero strength left.

The creature didn’t miss its chance.

Before I could pull back, its remaining front claw whipped around and lashed across my ribs.

RIIIIP.

"AGHHHHHH!"

The sound that ripped from my throat didn’t even sound human. The razor-sharp claw sliced clean through my clothing, carving four deep, burning trenches across my chest and side. Blood erupted in a hot wave, coating the forest floor. The force of the blow lifted me off my feet and slammed me flat onto my back five feet away.

The world went white. Then black. Then a sickening shade of grey.

I couldn’t breathe. My lungs wouldn’t expand. Every ragged twitch of my chest felt like being stabbed with hot iron.

Through the blur of my fading vision, I watched the creature struggle. It couldn’t reach me easily with its ruined leg, but it was slowly, painfully pushing itself toward where I lay. Mercy was still buried deep in its shoulder, sticking out like a grim flag.

It dragged itself inch by inch, its mandibles clicking in a grotesque, triumphant rhythm.

Move, I told my body. Get up.

Nothing worked. My legs were dead weight. My left arm was a useless rag, and my chest was pumping hot blood into the mud with every weak flutter of my heart.

I’m dying. I’m actually dying right here.

Desperation—raw, ugly, animalistic desperation—took over.

As the creature leaned down, unhinging its wide mouth to tear my throat out, I reached up with my slick, blood-covered right hand and grabbed the hilt of Mercy, still protruding from its shoulder.

I didn’t try to pull it out.

I twisted it.

I kicked my boot against the creature’s ugly face and twisted the heavy cleaver with every ounce of momentum my failing body had left, leveraging the blade like a crowbar inside its open wound.

CRACK-SPLAT.

The brutal leverage shattered its collar joint and ripped open its main artery. Black fluid exploded over my face and chest. The creature stiffened, a high, wet whistling sound escaping its throat before its eyes went entirely dull.

Its massive, heavy body collapsed sideways, pinning my legs under its dead weight.

Silence slammed back down onto the forest.

I lay there in the mud, covered in a mix of my own crimson blood and the monster’s foul black bile.

The creature was dead, and I was right behind it.

My chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid gasps. The pain was beginning to fade, replaced by a terrifying, hollow coldness that started at my fingertips and slowly crept toward my heart. The curse in my arm throbbed a faint, sickly purple beneath my skin, devouring what little life I had left.

I weakly pushed at the monster’s carcass, but I couldn’t move it. I couldn’t even stand.

So this is it, I thought, staring up at the dark, suffocating canopy above, where the leaves swayed gently against a bruised sky. Fought off horrors... survived the fourth regent... just to bleed out in the dirt like a butchered dog.

My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. The forest faded into a distant, muffled hum.

Dragging my ruined body inch by inch out from under the beast’s limp weight, I began to crawl blindly through the mud, leaving a thick trail of blood behind me, heading toward nowhere at all... just trying to outrun the cold.

The mud was cold, but the blood washing over my skin was colder.

I dragged myself forward using only my elbows, my legs trailing uselessly behind me like sacks of wet sand. Every inch carved a fresh line of agony across my ribs, but the pain was distant now—muffled, like a sound heard underwater. My vision was swimming, constantly shifting between a sickening gray blur and patches of pitch black.

Just keep moving... just a few more feet...

I didn’t even know where I was crawling. I was just trying to escape the smell of my own rotting flesh, trying to outrun the freezing numbness creeping inward from my toes.

Then, the trees gave way.

Through the heavy haze over my eyes, the dark forest abruptly ended. Rising out of the gloom was a colossal structure—a grand, ancient temple made of pale stone that looked entirely untouched by the rot of the surrounding woods. Towering pillars stretched up into the canopy, carved with delicate, swirling motifs that flickered faint and ghostly in my fading sight.

Am I... am I hallucinating? my mind rasped.

I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t think. I just dragged my broken body over the cracked marble steps, leaving a thick, jagged smear of red across the pristine white stone.

Past the threshold, the air changed instantly. The howling wind died. The scent of ozone and decaying flesh vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, sweet fragrance that smelled like blooming lilies and fresh rainwater.

My strength finally cut out completely. My chin slammed into the smooth stone floor, and my eyes fluttered shut.

This is it. I’m done.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light pierced through my closed eyelids—a blinding, purest white laced with soft, iridescent streaks of pale pink.

I forced my heavy eyelids open just a fraction.

Standing above me, framed by the divine radiance, was a figure.

She wore a long, flowing priestess gown of immaculate white, completely unblemished, shimmering softly as if woven from moonlight. Silken pink ribbons trailed lazily from her sleeves, floating weightlessly around her. Her face was framed by soft, cascading hair, and her eyes—a striking, luminous pink—gazed down at me with profound, tender warmth.

She looked like a sanctuary. She looked like salvation.

An angel...? I thought, my brain completely fried by loss of blood and the lingering poison. Did I die...? Is this heaven...?

The figure knelt beside me, the faint rustle of her pristine robes sounding like a soft breeze through dry leaves. She extended a pale, delicate hand, her slender fingers hovering barely an inch above my ruined, blood-soaked chest.

"Oh, you poor, broken thing..."

Her voice was sweet, soft, and impossibly melodic—like a gentle lullaby carrying over quiet waters.

"Look at how much you’ve suffered," she murmured, her pink eyes shimmering with what looked like deep, tearful empathy. "To bleed so much... to carry such a heavy, terrible burden all the way to my doorstep."

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet, ragged cough. Blood spilled over my lips, staining the pristine white edge of her floor-length sleeve.

"I’m... am I... dead...?" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "Are you... an angel...?"

A small, angelic smile touched her lips. She didn’t flinch at the blood touching her dress. In fact, her eyes seemed to widen just a fraction, a gentle, soothing warmth radiating from her touch as her fingers rested softly on my cheek.

"Not dead, sweet Voyager" she whispered softly, her thumb gently wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "Though you walk so very close to the edge. But do not fear... you found your way to me. You are safe now."

Her touch was soothing—almost too cold, like smooth ice, but it numbed the searing agony in my chest instantly.

"I will take care of you," she cooed, leaning in until I could smell the overpowering, sweet fragrance clinging to her skin. "I will fix every broken bone... cleanse every drop of dirty blood."

She smiled down at me, her gaze lingering on my bloody face with a soft, unwavering intensity that didn’t blink once.

"Rest now, little Beast," she whispered, her voice echoing gently in my mind as the white light swelled around us. "Your small journey is over."

•••

Petal hadn’t meant to stop running.

Her legs had simply surrendered, collapsing beneath her like brittle twigs. She had crawled into the hollow between two massive oak roots because it was the only shadow in the entire forest that felt small enough to hide her from the world.

She was cold. A deep, bone-settling chill that made her teeth chatter softly in the dark.

Was it my fault?

The question hovered in her mind, quiet and poisonous.

If I hadn’t shown him where the key was... If I hadn’t pulled Bramble away...

She had no answers. Only silence, and the tenacious, agonizing memory of his hand resting gently on her hair. His voice had promised her a tomorrow. She hated herself for it—hated how desperately some fragile, pathetic part of her still wanted to believe him.

Curling tighter into a ball, she pressed her face into her knees and waited. For the dawn to break, or for something terrible to find her in the dark.

She didn’t know which one she was praying for.

Oh... old father.

•••

The room possessed no windows. Not even flickering candles. Only the orb.

It hovered silently above a pristine stone altar, its surface swirled with milky, clouded glass. Deep within its center—tiny and distant—a boy lay motionless amid the shattered wood of a hunter’s blind.

The figure standing in the shadows did not move. Stillness was a weapon he had perfected over centuries.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice smooth, carrying no echo.

He leaned in slightly, studying the web of black, decayed lines crawling up the boy’s arm. As he watched the corruption pulse, a deep, cruel satisfaction settled in his chest—the quiet triumph of an artisan watching a masterpiece take form.

"Every single thread... right where I laid it."

He lingered on the image, savoring the moment. Inside the orb, the boy shifted, his breath shallow, his pale face catching the dim light of the scrying glass.

"You have no idea what you are yet, do you?" the figure whispered, reaching out a pale hand to brush the air just above the glass. "Such a fragile, broken vessel. But I have waited an eternity for something desperate enough to carry what I intend to give."

He watched a moment longer, unhurried, with the patient arrogance of a man claiming what was already rightfully his.

"Sleep, little Beast," he whispered into the dark. "You have a very long walk ahead of you."

A faint, cold smile cut through the shadows.

"And I will be waiting at the very end."

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