Breeding Madness 1.1

Alright, Breeding Madness is now in motion. Next up is catching up on WGL. When I'm current on both projects is when I'll start the outline for Coye 7.

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Chapter 1 - Zethras Gremorrow and the Forbidden Section

Beyond a dense, dark, and dangerous forest, past an ocean of fog as thick as the trees, situated atop a silvery lake of ethereal beauty masking the darkness of the deep, there was a floating city of magic and splendor. Its streets were made of solidified mana, and its many ancient buildings gleamed brilliantly with a dazzling array of hues. On any given day, the sky burned with smoke and cacophony from the arcane toils and failed experiments below, drifting upwards to tickle the underside of the ringed silver clouds hovering far above the magnificent city.

Much like the lake holding the city, these clouds carried a structure even more impressive than anything below. Older than old, a collection of interconnected campuses, sprawling towers, and buildings stretched across the ringed clouds. Mana bridges and glowing stairwells took most who wandered wherever they needed to go, but you could never be entirely confident you’d end up where you wanted, and sometimes you had to exercise some creativity in getting there.

Magical schools had a reputation for that, and the greatest of them all was no exception.

Every building was part of a greater whole. Some were classrooms filled with the brightest minds of their time and the future leaders of the magical world. Others were the offices of the colorful cast of professors paid to impart their brilliance upon the young. One of the most common sights in the ringed academy was its many libraries, and in one such library, a young boy walked alone among the shelves.

Zethras Gremmorrow was younger than his tall, emaciated frame made him out to be. His sunken face was frightening even as his heart beat with fear- lifeless eyes and a head of oily, unkempt, kelp-like hair doing the boy no favors. With a slightly hunched back that looked like he’d been bowled over by age, he carried himself like a man of eighty.

His appearance garnered fear and disgust from the other children, while others mocked him for his oddities, going out of their way to ensure he knew their ill sentiments toward him daily. Just on his way across campus, he was insulted and assaulted, cruel hands reaching and ripping for his books and hair before he could get away.

Whispers followed him wherever he walked, laughter echoing as he ran away. Before he could make it to the quiet sanctuary, Zethras was caught once again. A bully with a bright smile and a black heart slammed him into the wall, then shoved his wand into the poor boy’s face. There were no insults this time, only an order.

Bring me a book.

At first, Zethras was confused. All students had access to the libraries, even those outside their grade. It didn’t make sense until he realized he was asking for one from one of the forbidden sections, prompting Zethras to instantly protest.

Those sections were forbidden for a good reason. Some secrets were too dark to be learned yet too important to purge from written history altogether. They were meant to be collected and guarded against, not sampled. As to why they were kept so close to the young and impressionable sorcerous students, Zethras couldn’t say. Perhaps the teachers were just that confident in their ability to keep all those tomes and scrolls that hadn’t been seen since ages past safe from the wrong hands?

Zethras’s protesting was met with a hard shake, nearly sending his head slamming into the wall again. Only then was he released with one last whispered warning. A threat not taken lightly- a glowing wand pointed at his face with promises of what was to come upon his failure.

Nodding so fast his teeth clacked, Zethras took his chance to escape and hurried through the doors. His entrance gathered a few curious glances until they realized it was just that ugly child, and all eyes returned to their respective studies. Clearing his throat and self-consciously fussing over his robes, Zethras headed for the nearest aisle to ponder his conundrum.

If he didn’t bring a book back, then there was no doubt in his mind that his bully would make good on his word. They always did. On the other hand, if he got caught in the forbidden section, then it would be the professors who’d put him through the wringer, and they were a nightmare in a class of their own. Experienced mages were infinitely more creative and experimental in their punishments than students who’d only just dipped their wands in the well of magic… but neither option was ideal, really, and Zethras was afraid.

He tried going about his mischief casually, downplaying his guiltiness. He would wander around, occasionally picking up a book to flip through before returning it to its shelf and weaving through the aisles as he steadily progressed toward his destination. When he was only a few aisles away from the entrance to this library’s forbidden section, he stuck his head out in the open, nervously glancing this way and that. Fortune must’ve favored him. No one seemed nearby, and anyone who’d seen him when he came in had likely forgotten he was there.

That didn’t make what he was about to do any easier.

Fear welled up in Zethras’s gut just gazing into the entrance- a dark room with no door. Instead, a large, curved archway showed the entirety of the room housing the doors to the forbidden section. It would’ve looked downright tempting if not for what could be seen inside. Cobwebs larger than any average spider could produce in a lifetime covered every corner and part of the ceiling. Trapped in the unforgiving silk were the bodies of the poor beasts used to feed the guardian spiders. You saw many strange and unsettling sights growing up at the Magicademy, but of all that Zethras had witnessed in his years, the memory of the time he’d seen the spiders feast always stood out.

Supposing the spiders weren’t enough to deter the foolishly brave, a statue stood in the middle of the room. Consumed by cobwebs like everything else, the marble it was sculpted from was cracked and mutilated by millennia. Likely carved in the likeness of some ancient archsage, it was now missing half its face while standing a solemn watch. Fog swirled around the statue’s feet, filling the floor and billowing with an invisible breeze. The chances the mist was ordinary seemed nonexistent.

Opposite the archway were the doors. Large and curved, the wood was pockmarked by runes and glyphs that Zethras couldn’t place. They burned and churned with an unknown power, which any simpleton could take to assume that the doors were enchanted, just as the statue presumably was.

The visible entryway was designed to both taunt and haunt those who considered entering, and it did its job well in most cases. Zethras was a special case. The fear he carried for spiders and ancient magic was nothing compared to the fear he felt toward others. It was irrational of him, but social anxiety was a powerful motivator for a boy so young and foolish.

Besides, if Zethras was successful, perhaps his bully would start to like him? Yeah. Maybe he’d even respect him for having the courage to go through with it, too? It was a long shot, but there was little he wouldn’t do for a chance to be respected.

Zethras cautiously approached the archway, fighting against his trembling nerves with every step. He stopped a few feet from the archway, casting one last glance over his shoulder. Still all clear. If he secretly hoped for someone to show up and tell him this was a bad idea, his wishes went unheard.

Zethras’s paranoia was in overdrive. As such, he believed it was highly likely that magic was protecting the room. Not the things he’d already taken notice of, but something else. It didn’t seem probable that the professors would leave such an important job to just a few spiders and a spooky room- bloodthirsty as those spiders might’ve been. No, Zethras believed there was surely some charm, jinx, or security golem just waiting for him to cross an invisible line.

Bracing himself, the boy rattled off a few simple spells to detect or potentially spring any magic traps in his immediate vicinity.

Nothing happened.

For several seconds, Zethras stared at the faceless statue in disbelief. It was more likely that the magic at play here was so advanced that his novice-level spells weren’t enough to get the job done, but the possibility that his spells were successful couldn’t be discounted, either. Maybe there really wasn’t anything in his way?

There was only one way to find out, so Zethras swallowed the lump in his throat threatening to choke him and took a dramatic step forward.

Immediately his mind screamed at him over how bad of an idea this was. In that short moment, Zethras considered turning around and telling a teacher, only to remember the threats of his bully, complete with some less-than-helpful imagery from his imagination to go along with it. His mind was made up then and there.

Zethras took three steps into the room and froze, eyes clenched shut and arms raised. He waited to be obliterated, eviscerated, or teleported away to one of the oft-whispered-about detention dungeons, but nothing came of it no matter how long he waited. Confused, Zethras lowered his arms and opened his eyes before taking another step forward, bracing again for this to be his final moment.

Nothing. No magic trap, no evisceration, and no detention dungeon.

His confusion faded with each subsequent step. After the twelfth, Zethras no longer awaited the worst. Ensuring he didn’t step on any cobwebs, he skirted around the statue to avoid looking at its disfigured face and stopped in front of the double-duty doors. He leaned closer to study the symbols, but nearer proximity didn’t suddenly make him understand their meaning. Still, he scanned them over several times to try and burn them into his memory so he could look them up later.

Zethras grabbed the iron handles with nothing holding him back and hissed when the cold metal touched his palms. He feared someone might’ve heard him for a moment, but nothing came of it, so he took a deep breath and pulled the doors open, cringing as the doors creaked. He hurried through them, in a desperate rush to shut himself in, and was pleased when they shut soundlessly in his wake.

He’d done it. Against all odds, Zethras was in. He turned to face the room he’d entered, unable to hold back a surprised gasp at what he saw.

Through some sort of spatial magic shenanigans, the forbidden section was a completely separate library far more extensive than the one it sat inside of. The area was circular, the curved walls filled by bookshelves made of dark, aging wood running from floor to ceiling. Its aisles were made of matching shelves shorter than the ceiling but still towering in their own right. At the end of each of these shelves stood a column that stretched toward the sky made of dark, cracked, and shattered limestone. Interspersed at random intervals throughout the forbidden section were copper braziers alight with blue flames that illuminated large swathes of the room while strengthening the dusky shadows everywhere else.

Above the aisles, threadbare tapestries hung from the ceiling. They fluttered and flapped gently to the whims of an unseen breeze, creating an illusion that made the frightening creatures sewn onto their fabric sway as if they were alive. That was until Zethras caught sight of one particular tapestry depicting a mid-flight griffin that seemed to stare directly at him and flap its wing, at least. He hurriedly looked away, blaming it on a trick of his mind.

As he forced himself deeper past the entryway, the fear Zethras felt started to give way to something more profound. Gone were the scary shadows and foreboding tapestries- all that remained was the boy and the bookshelves. He couldn’t remember how he ended up there in the first place, but now that Zethras had arrived, the knowledge hidden within the pages whispered his name more sweetly than any who’d ever addressed him, and he descended into the nearest aisle.

Zethras shivered as the darkness engulfed him. To his surprise, his eyes adjusted quickly, and he could soon see without hindrance. He raised his hand to brush against the spines of the books, so full on every shelf they threatened to burst. For a while, Zethras made the rounds and investigated many such rows. Changing directions, going down side aisles, taking it all in without a clear destination.

His mind was void, possessing no thoughts beyond a feeling he couldn’t comprehend or understand. If Zethras had to put a word to the sensation, it was akin to a calling. Hard to say. He’d never felt so compelled about anything before in his life, never felt so in his element, never felt he belonged so much as where he found himself then and there.

Zethras stopped, grabbing a random book off the shelf. Dark magic oozed off the pages as he flipped through, a discovery that didn’t surprise him. He assumed every other book in the room was similar, else there’d be no reason to lock them away. He skimmed more and more pages, flipping through them fast enough as he only ever understood a handful of words here and there. His understanding of the arcane arts was painfully basic, despite the best efforts Zethras threw into his studies, and most of what was written was far above his skill level.

Yet, from the few bits and pieces he picked up through skimming, the book's subject became clear. It was a book on magical torture and interrogation methods- how fascinating!

He sat down where he stood, resting his back on the bookshelf and bending his leg to prop the book against his knee. Page by page, his fascination only deepened until he was drowning in the acquisition of wisdom from a time long forgotten. Alongside the words were drawings and illustrations, helpful diagrams of what would happen when this spell is applied here or when that jinx is performed there.

It didn’t matter if he couldn’t understand much of it. Unconsciously, he traced every line with his eyes and fingers, trailing row after row and muttering the bits and pieces he understood to himself. At that moment, Zethras felt a calm and all-encompassing peace that he had never known. He couldn’t say how long he sat there reading from the dark arts, but his tranquility was shattered just before he flipped to the final page.

Footsteps.

Zethras’s heart stopped, and his breath froze in his chest, his head whipping out of the book to better listen. They came from an aisle opposite his, hidden behind rows and rows of books. He knew they were after him- they had to be, didn’t they?

Scrambling to his feet, Zethras almost dropped the book in his haste. Damnable clumsiness getting in his way yet again. He sprinted down the aisle, away from the rhythmic footsteps, as fast as he could. His head twisted from side to side, searching with frantic desperation for somewhere- anywhere- to hide.

After leaving his aisle, Zethras stumbled to a crop and found himself in the center of a row of desks in the middle of the large circle created by the many corridors. Thinking fast, he dropped to his knees and crawled under the nearest desk like a toddler.

Safe at last, Zethras let out a sigh of relief. It was a sigh that transitioned into a scream the moment something grabbed the collar of his school robe from behind.

Zethras was pulled out from under the desk. His eyes were shut and flooded with tears, his body shivering as he waited for the inevitable. Seconds passed by without incident, his nervous screaming drawing to a halt because of his poor throat. As it did, a voice was revealed. It was a woman’s, brimming with warmth, gentleness, and a pervasive aura of love.

“Oh, dear… would you look at silly little me, forgetting again… forgive me, love. It always slips my mind that I’m not supposed to touch you, even when we’re like this.”

The woman’s apology was heard by but not comprehended by the frightened boy, not until she released him and he’d landed unsteadily on his feet. Zethras snapped back to reality, twisting his eyes to look at her. He gasped yet again, though now there wasn’t a trace of fear. Even as a young boy, he knew for a fact that this woman was beautiful beyond compare.

She was significantly curvier than the women he was used to seeing around these parts, but rather than ashamed of her slightly chubby frame, this woman flaunted it with a fitted crimson floor-length dress that hugged and accentuated her bountiful curves. The dark red contrasted her pale skin yet matched her alluring lips, and her long, jet-black hair flowed down her back save for two tendrils perfectly curled and styled to frame her face. When Zethras met her bright green eyes, they threatened to entrance and consume his all.

Yet even as he was swept up into the abyssal whirlpool that was her beauty, instinct screamed at him of the danger that continued to plague him. He recalled one of his magizoology lessons when Professor Fairwild once brought in a live siren to demonstrate something or other. No one really got anything from that lecture, the siren herself having stolen the show. This woman gave Zethras the same impression- stunning and captivating but capable of devouring a man wholly at the slightest opportunity.

He sat down his book on the desk he’d tried hiding beneath, then nervously stepped away from it- away from her. He tried to nonchalantly look around as he asked, “W-Who are you? You’re not one of the professors, are you? I don’t recognize you, but, um… oh… I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“Trouble?” The woman tilted her head, amused and curious. “Now, why would you be in trouble, silly? We come here all the time, don’t we?”

Zethras stared at her for several moments, confusion rising as a frown spread across his face. “I, uh, don’t know what you mean by that. I’ve never been here before. This is my first time.”

“Is it?”

Angst clouded Zethras’s mind, his taller body still just as lanky and emaciated under his robes as when he was a child. He ran a hand down the side of his face, scowling at the painful boils and acne popping out from his greasy skin. His hair, as oily and wild as ever, fell forward onto his face and brushed against his cheeks.

“No, you’re right. I come here all the time, and I’m starting to think it’s a waste of effort. There’s no point to it, no point to anything, really. Fucking stupid, everything fucking sucks…”

The teenage mage looked down at the desk, his single book having multiplied into dozens covering just as many topics. Around the pile were whole pages and ripped paper, filling the surface with his frustrated notes written haphazardly by a boy possessed.

“No matter how hard I try, I just can’t pick up any of this junk. I hate it. I hate everything.”

“Now, now. You’re just at that age, love. Just because you aren’t getting anything from these books doesn’t mean they have no value. Maybe you haven’t found the right one, hm?”

“Not likely…”

“Every child learns at different rates and excels in different ways, and they all have special needs that must be met for them to succeed," the woman comforted. "You’ll find your way before it’s too late.”

Eighteen-year-old Zethras scoffed at the woman’s words, sinking further into his seat as he stared at the ceiling. His books and his notes had all disappeared, the only silver lining to his lot in life being that his acne had mostly cleared up in the time since.

“You should tell that to my professors because they aren’t even bothering with me anymore. I’m out. Rejected. In their own words, I’ve run out of chances…” Zethras dropped his head into his hands. “Gods, I fucking knew it was weird how this place didn’t have any defenses. The statue, the spiders, the enchanted doors… bullshit, every one of them. Never would’ve guessed that was the reason for it, though…”

The woman shushed him and switched chairs, sitting even closer. Zethras raised his head to look at her, and she gave him a supportive smile. “Do you need to vent about all this again, hm? Go on, don’t feel as if you need to hold back on my account. I’m always willing to listen to your problems, even if I’ve heard it all before.”

The meaning was beyond Zethras, prompting him to frown and disregard it with a shrug. “It’s nothing huge or anything. Nah, I just found out they’re kicking me from the Magicademy now that I’ve graduated basic schooling. No college- just the boot. No big deal, right?”

“And does that truly bother you? Truly?” She asked.

Zethras shrugged again. “…No, not really. I mean, I’ll miss the libraries, especially these ones-” He gestured to his surroundings. “But it’s not as if I ever really fit in here. If anything, it’s a relief to know in no uncertain terms that no one wants me. Closure helps. Or at least, it should… well, whatever. At least now I can move on with my life.”

“You’ll find somewhere to belong, love. You’re closer than you think.”

Zethras, now fully grown, raised his head to meet her loving gaze with one brimming with spiteful cynicism. As ever, he looked older than his twenty-five years, his face tight and his unruly hair already graying and losing what little luster it ever had.

“And when will that be, huh?” Zethras scoffed. “Four years of wandering around trying to make something of myself never yielded anything other than disappointment and aching feet. Now look at me- stuck in a dead-end town with the worst job I’ve ever had, one I’m too afraid to walk away from just because of the meager comforts it brings…”

He looked away from the woman, turning his eyes at the archive of darkness around him. “This place is the closest I’ve ever really come to feeling like I belong, you know. No wonder I keep dreaming about it.”

The woman smiled, impressed. “You figured it out faster than usual tonight. Nicely done! What was your first clue, hm?”

Filled with the confidence only a dream could provide, Zethras replied, “Never met anyone as pretty as you in real life, for one, and I sincerely doubt someone on your level even exists. I would love to be proven wrong, but I’m not expecting it to happen.”

She ducked her head, suddenly bashful as her juicy lips took on a catty grin. Unable to look directly at him, the woman used her best flirty voice to tease, “I wouldn’t go getting any funny ideas just because this is a dream, silly boy. Things have a way of being more real than you might expect. If you were to touch me, there’s a risk you just might lose yourself completely.”

Zethras casually dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “All you’re doing is threatening a cynical nihilist with a good time. Maybe I’d find the idea scarier if I had more to lose, but as things stand, it’s more or less… whatever.”

His depression was at a new low tonight, it seemed. She’d seen it worsen and worsen for quite some time, yet it always managed to find further depths to sink to. How disheartening. Dropping the flirty voice, she told it to him straight.

“I don’t think you understand the severity. Once you’ve lost yourself, that’s it. There’s no going back for a mortal like you.” Zethras ignored the comment, still lost in thought. Upset that she hadn’t comforted him and still seeking to do so, the woman sighed and then confessed, “One day soon, I promise you’ll look back on all of this and laugh. You don’t know how close you are. Things have been in motion for longer than you’re aware, and the time has almost come.”

Nothing caught Zethras’s attention as much as vague and forboding nonsense. His head perked, looking straight toward the strange woman. “The time for what?”

“For you to take your place by my side where you belong, as my beloved husband.”

Stunned, Zethras gaped wide-eyed at the figment of his subconscious mind. For all his shock, she merely stared back with adoration and love. He couldn’t keep it up for much longer, so he turned and scoffed. “What a sad little man I am, conjuring up a beautiful woman in my dreams to make me feel better about my lot in life…”

She laughed at his innocence, still so blind as to the world's workings, while shaking her head with a fond smile. “Give me your hand.”

“What about losing myself whole?”

“You were fine when I accidentally grabbed you a bit ago, remember? I want to test your limits and see if it happens again.”

“Fair. Doesn’t sound like I’ll lose out on much if you’re wrong, at least.” Zethras gave her a sarcastic shrug and extended his hand toward her. She took it cautiously, then held it with gentle warmth as she studied him and his reaction. Aside from some blushing on his part, nothing happened.

The woman beamed out of nowhere, letting go of his hand to clasp hers with a dreamy grin. “How wonderful, you’re so much farther along than I thought! I suppose it has been a while since I checked… goodness. I can scarcely believe it, but it might be time to finally move forward…! Yes, I can feel it! It is! Oh, love… we’re finally going to be together! Aren’t you excited?”

Rather than excitement, the primary emotion Zethras experienced was concern. “Uh, yeah. You know it?” He answered with an uncertain nod, only to be distracted by a creeping sensation. It took hold of him the longer he stared at her.

The woman continued smiling at him without end, yet the grin somehow widened until it appeared like a knife had sliced open the corners of her mouth. Something about it drew him in, making him unable to look away as her previously human teeth elongated and sharpened to a razor point.

Fear suddenly consuming Zethras, he forcibly looked away and inhaled a sharp breath. He tried making eye contact, but the brightness of her green, burning orbs nearly blinded the man. Everywhere Zethras looked, the mysterious woman was changing and morphing. A shadow loomed behind her, or was it part of her?

The darkness was made up of unending beasts, strange and foul. Warped claws and jagged talons slashed at the air, fangs snapped, and maws roared primal songs of oblique hysteria as glistening tentacles were bathed in the firelight of the library. Each part of the whole was searching as if hungering ceaselessly- Zethras’s mind overwhelmed with visions of the world as he knew it gobbled up by all that he saw, himself included.

One of the many broke formation.

Suddenly free from the paralytic fear that had gripped and rendered him frozen, Zethras turned to face it. All he could make out was what looked to be a tangled vine of interlocking arms ending in mummified hands. Scraggly fingers tipped with long, serrated razor nails extended from the shapeless mass.

It screamed and rushed toward Zethras, the many arms unlocking and spreading out to form a sick, twisted flower of flesh. Tripling in size, a gaping mouth appeared in its center, complete with eerily human lips that smacked open, revealing a lolling tongue covered in filth and teeth no sharper than its many nails.

Zethras only had a second to scream before it guzzled him down.