18.2

ACT 963161069-26889.19.31

The realization you are in a giant stomach is depressing. Eve thought as she ran through options. Leaving is the last possible outcome. I’m learning more in minutes from studying the Prince of Destruction than I would in years.

Since leaving wasn’t a good option, she needed to ensure that staying had a modicum of safety. Right now, she was a novelty. However, Malthazar’s brutal end was a warning. Turn from a novelty into a bore, and the end was inevitable. To avoid such an outcome, she just needed to apply the tools already to hand. Crystal Core calmed her nerves, turning them to ice. This was not the time to panic, lose her mind, and crumble. It was a time of action.

Eve carefully composed a letter on silver paper inked in blood. The significance of the correspondence being done this way was linked to Dremora’s deep history. From the library, she knew that paper imbued with her power and inked in her blood was both an offering and supplication. In less convoluted terms, she was writing a request to her boss for time off.

I even have the perfect excuse. Eve thought with an inner smirk. To expand my recipe book and thus provide better food.

A few short weeks passed after she sent her supplication up the palace chain of command. The response had been positive. She was able to gain an audience with the Prince of Destruction. Requests for food had slowly been slacking off as the prince recovered more each day. It was utterly expected that when she finally had a day without a food request, Eve was summoned.

Before entering the throne room Eve had made sure to don her preparations fully. She was dressed to the nines. Her pure white hair was done in elaborately curled ringlets with runic silver charms inlaid. She also had silver jewelry bedecked ears, throat, wrist, and fingers, each with runic inlay. She was sparkling with powerful runes accenting her skin, jewelry, and hair charms. Blood red ruby eyes glowed with their shape, a phoenix twist giving her a devilishly gorgeous twist. Her ebony, darkened skin contrasts with the silver robes and jewelry draping her form. The silver highlighted the abyss of dark skin with magma-lit veins of energy.

Eve had tapped into the palace gossip, which caused her to alter her form slightly, accentuating excellent curves, a thin waist, and long legs. Shapeshifting made her look like she’d stepped out of a model shoot from Earth. The outfit was finished with black leather boots and a skinny belt holding a small ceremonial cooking knife and fork.

When the majordomo called her name, she entered the throne room, striding forward under the arched stone entrance. Eve only glanced at the carvings of horrific scenes from Dremora's history set within the arch. Jealous whispers followed her as she walked down the thick blood red carpet. Ultimately, she paused to bow shallowly before a towering monolith holding the prince. His form had the classic vibe of a bad boy that mothers would warn their daughters against. Crystal Core eliminated the desire to kneel in worship with a sneer. Eve looked closely at the Prince of Destruction with senses other than mere sight. At first, he looked like a demonically handsome drow piece of artwork. There was a blaring flaw that marred the living painting. The prince’s face was a blank mask that could have been carved from flesh-cast stone. In addition to the two curling ram horns, that gave the Dremora’s ruler an air of indomitable might.

“Let our Court welcome the newest addition to the Kitchen. The successor of the late Head Chef, Malthazar. He is succeeded by Eve, first of her line.” Dagon said in a whisper that rumbled like a shout. The tone was bland containing boredom that struck like a gong.

Eve’s bow deepened in angle and meaning, allowing the assembled to see where her loyalty lay. Disrespect had only one outcome in this place. The whispers rose around her, but she ignored them. None of these sycophants, not even the dukes, could grant her the boon she required. It was tradition for a new appointee to request something of the prince. This allowed the prince to demonstrate their power and the appointee to be rewarded for reaching their post.

“Ask, as is tradition. What can Destruction do for their newest addition to the table?” Dagon said after the whispers had died to nothing. The faintest glint of interest entered the prince’s sulfur-yellow eyes.

“Honored One, I desire to traverse the mortal realms to gather new recipes. Please grant this lesser one the boon of travel for a time.” Eve said after rising from her bow. She was careful not to look Dagon in the eyes. The old rumor that the eyes were the windows to the soul was all too real. It made Eve look more respectful to have her gaze lowered and was far safer to boot.

There was a pause among the court as Dagon considered her request with the faintest hint of a smile. She had already looked into it, and the precedent existed. The minor problem of attempts to supplicant her was nothing in Eve’s eyes. As long as she eliminated any challengers upon her return, there was nothing to be worried about. Considering that Malthazar had reigned for so long unchallenged, Eve doubted there would be many idiots.

If there were more idiots than planned, then she’d make a stew.

“The endless search to strive and better this Prince’s palate. It is pleasing, very much so. This boon, I will grant.” Dagon said with a fey light in his eyes. He licked his lips as his attention turned to a memory of the past before focusing once more. Eve stood motionless as the prince continued, “A minimum of three new dishes. No variations.”

Eve bowed deeply and replied, “As the Honored One commands.” Crystal Core kept her mind from shuddering at the implications of the wording.

A lazy wave from Dagon dismissed her, and Eve didn’t hesitate to turn and stroll out of the throne room. Her head was held high with a regal arch. Many gazes followed her exit, but she couldn’t care less about the politics involved. The prince’s word was law and executing it was every Dremora’s duty.

Once in the relative safety of the antechamber, Eve took several deep breaths before striding towards the kitchen. Ohm had concealed his presence and power, looking like nothing more than a robust older generation. There was no such effort on the Prince of Destructions' part. The air around a Tier Seven was packed with enough mana to blind her senses. She could barely make out a few flickers of runes in the depths of the mana surrounding the prince.

Analyzing would be impossible if it wasn’t for the correlating data given to her by the Witch’s Dust the prince had consumed. Much like she’d done in the past, the prince had duplicated the effect substantially. Eve was very familiar with pumping mana out to obscure identity. The higher Tier, Seven, was a watershed. Not only was Dagon producing immense amounts of mana, but the ambient mana also appeared to be entirely under the prince’s control.

Like a field, no! A Domain. Eve realized. From what she could see, it wasn’t a domain attached to a concept. It appears to be a domain keeping all the surrounding mana under Dagon’s control. While that provides a unique defense, I doubt it is the only reason to do that.

Crystal Core arrived at several possible reasons, but one stood out the most. Eve’s eyes narrowed as she considered the information at hand. She knew the world around her was somehow part of the prince’s natural body. At the same time, what she had seen sitting on the throne wasn’t some clone or false projection. It was an Avatar linked directly to the Demi-Plane.

Arriving back in her room in the kitchen, Eve took a deep breath. The silver liquid flowed out from under her feet, coating the entire interior of the workroom. She already knew Witch’s Dust wasn’t detectable. Dagon would have already crushed her to a pulp if it had been. Eve floated up, and a silver liquid sphere surrounded her body. Sparkling silver runes began to coat the walls, the exterior of the orb, and even the interior. Witch’s Dust was a versatile tool, the only reason Eve could attempt this.

Once all the runes were in place, the orb began to spin, pulling mana ambient mana inward. As the mana was dragged through the walls of the personal workroom, it was filtered. When the mana struck the exterior of the silver orb, it was filtered again. Finally, when the mana was sucked into the interior of the silver orb surrounding Eve’s body, it was filtered a third and final time. At the same time, all the traces that matched what her filters caught were drawn from her body and cast outside the silver orb.

Eve’s eyes sparkled with a fanatic glint in the silver orb's dark interior. All four processes revealed the truth with every rotation. The world around her was indeed a stomach. Dagon was processing everything into ‘food’ on a scale of time that boggled the mind. She created a ‘clean’ room effect by purifying the mana around her.

The mana of this entire plane is like stomach acid. Eve thought as her orb erased the traces that had accumulated on her body. Slowly it melts anything in this place, turning it into nourishment for Dagon. This is why my mana is poison. I give mere indigestion to Dagon but death to other Dremora!

The Dremora were exempt from this effect of dissolving, being ‘born’ from Dagon’s will. They were living weapons cursed with Hungerall to feed their prince. The rebirth effect recycled the Soul Mana used in their ‘template’ before stuffing them into a new body.

This discovery also explained the lack of a standard emotional gauntlet. From what she observed, Dremora ran almost exclusively the darker range of emotions. Hate, rage, fear, and so forth were the ink of their existence. That would be expected, though, as they were living shadows of Dagon.

Eve idly wondered if her brother had such shadows and if they could feel the brighter emotions. Crystal Core prevented her from panicking at the thought that her existence gave her away. It keenly pointed out that if that were true, she’d already have been ‘eaten’ by now. It was far more likely that the prince thought of her as merely another ‘spice’ in the mix. From what she could see, the digestion wasn’t happening over days or weeks but decades and centuries.

It has been this way for a very long time. Eve thought as she calmed down. Within this Plane, the prince is practically invincible. Inevitably it is causing ennui to dull the sense of threats. That would explain why he takes no action and doesn’t investigate further, even if he suspected something.

It was a thin veneer that made logical sense of a twisted sort. When invincible, there was no point in searching for every ant in an anthill. Just eat the entire thing and be done with it. That was the same principle at work now. The prince didn’t care about indigestion spread out over time. It was just another sensation blended into the rest.

Now that she knew the problem, Eve watched as Crystal Core began to build defenses automatically. The runes on her body shifted as new ones took their place. She watched the rune font size grow smaller to provide the increased space needed. The Talisman of Dust protected her main body, but there was no such shielding on her current form until now.

Having experienced the Void’s corrosion, I understand what Dagon has done. Eve thought, watching as the final rune slotted into place. There was a flash of silver light in the darkness of the inner orb before the dim glow of her eye’s appeared once more. Oblivion is based in the Void or something like it. To protect themselves, the Daedric Princes have taken this route. Soul Mana gained from invasions, digestion, and an ever-expanding Demi-Plane shell.

It all made a terrible sense that the tragedies created by the princes were nothing more or less than a desperate attempt to survive. Eve knew she would go to incredible lengths to stay alive. Dagon was doing the same in a gruesome manner that bespoke of casual cruelty beyond measure.

Nothing can be done now about these Daedric Princes, at least not by me. Eve thought as she removed the Witch’s Dust, pulling it all back into her body. Eternal Memory kept her from screaming in rage or gibbering in terror. Combined with Crystal Core, she offloaded the emotional wreckage of her knowledge to where it could be examined with clinical logic.

She felt her mind twist, and a pathway to a shining beacon opened. Words, letters, and symbols shifted in her mind seeking stability. An interminable moment passed before a bright blinking string of information was displayed to Eve’s eyes.

ACT 963161069-26889.19.31-Eve Smith-Silver Prime

The link to the Anomaly Central Time! Eve exclaimed in her mind. Nota informed her she had been working on connecting since learning of it. However, it had taken the extreme distress she felt upon learning she was being “eaten” to trigger the required power reserves. Now that the link had formed, it would ripple out to those she had a strong personal connection to and weave them into it. Past, present, and future would click into a seamless, invisible chain.

Eve was too weak now, at Tier Six, to do anything.

She couldn’t affect Oblivon or those that made it their home. That wouldn’t always be the case, though, Eve vowed. Once she had consolidated her power and reached Tier Eight or higher, she had every intention of revisiting Oblivon. She had the coordinates. It couldn’t be hidden from her now, not with Spatial Steps in her toolkit. She wouldn’t strike for justice but to wipe all traces of her visit from existence. It would just coincidentally also alleviate the suffering of unknown masses.

Coincidence, pure coincidence. Eve thought as she adjusted her body to go from gorgeous to pretty. It hadn’t taken much to find information on the closest Material Plane to Oblivon. Primus Mundus was a vast territory spanning eight continents with an ocean that had never been fully explored. There was even a Race that would be the perfect cover as she searched for new recipes.

It took several hours to lay traps, mines, cameras, and recorders in the private kitchen. Going on an extended trip didn’t mean neglecting the basics. Spices were replaced with poisons, and lethal packets of mana were hidden in every nook and cranny.

It isn’t paranoia when they are out to get you. Eve thought as she finished the final touches.

Eve’s clothing shifted, taking on a more casual affair. There were many places in the city, but one, in particular, held the key to infiltrating the Primus Mundus quickly.

Locking the kitchen door and sealing it with a stone slab in sparkling silver runes, Eve glanced at the rest of the Palace Kitchen. Everyone appeared hard at work slaving away, but she wasn’t fooled. There was no point in saying goodbye to this crew of murderous soul-cooking chefs.

Eve flickered into invisibility before using Spatial Steps to leap three-quarters of the way under the Palace. Guards stopped her at the entrance to the Information Office. She scribbled drawings on a small pad while the guards called for a higher officer. Minutes later, after finishing artistic yet questionable poses for both guards, an attractive female, Dremora, arrived.

“Head Chef Eve, I presume? I am Nix. Welcome to the Information Office." Nix said with a short bow.

Eve nodded and said, “I heard you have a Race that makes it easy to infiltrate the Primus Mundus. One that perfectly conceals the incredible skill with magic inherent to our race.”

Nix’s smiled with a wide bright slice of sharp white teeth, “Indeed we do. There is, of course, the matter of payment…”

“Three meals, personally hand-crafted by me,” Eve said without preamble. It was a king’s ransom if you weren’t a Daedric Prince. “That will be more than satisfactory for me,” Nix said, cleverly indicating the debt was to her alone.

“Shall we then?” Eve said, moving forward.

“Indeed, please follow closely. Security here is rather intense.” Nix said, turning to lead Eve forward into the Information Office department. “We have a rather large selection of the Race in question.”

Eve’s eyes glittered as she said, “Excellent. I’ve always wanted a look at a real High Elf.”