Satyr’s Children | Book 1: Siren
Triton’s mind was swallowed by pure blankness. It was as though the tremendous force of the impact had hurled him into some other, unfamiliar space, leaving him dazed for a fleeting moment.
Then something far more terrible flooded into that void.
His head felt as though it had been stuffed in a boiling hive, countless searing stingers driving simultaneously into his brain, accompanied by a relentless, high-pitched buzzing that brutally drowned out every sound from the outside world.
It hurts… His head… It hurts so much…
Agony erupted from his right temple like lava, and that place seemed to be… hollow.
A surge of dread and panic seized Triton’s heart. He tried to open his eyes, but his right eye was completely sealed shut by warm, viscous blood and rapidly swelling flesh. The skin around it burned fiercely, as though a coarse file were scraping repeatedly against his bone. What little his left eye could see shook and spun wildly, like a lone boat on the verge of capsizing in a storm. Light and shadow twisted together, figures dissolving into grotesque, shifting patches of color.
He tried to focus his vision. But all he felt was wave after wave of nausea and vertigo.
Did he vomit? The back of his throat was filled with the hot, bitter taste of bile. But that wasn’t the most important thing…
He tried to reach for his skull, to confirm that terrible sense of absence, but his arm felt as though it no longer belonged to him. All that reached him was a distant, numb tingling and wave after wave of involuntary spasms.
Wait… Am I lying on my back? Or face-down? Or… am I falling off somewhere?
He tried to move his arm again.
Nothing. No response at all.
Something was wrong…
The sounds of the outside world grew distant and distorted. Triton thought he heard Ali screaming, along with the piercing blast of someone’s whistle cutting through the air, but everything sounded as though it was coming from beneath deep water, separated from him by a thick, shifting barrier, breaking in and out, horribly indistinct. Clearer still was the ragged, heavy breathing of his own, like air forced through a broken bellows, and the endless roar of pain occupying his entire skull.
Stop… Please, stop… It really hurts…
“Dad… Ali…” His lips moved faintly as he tried to search the warped patches of color before him for the figures of his father and sister. Blinding light lashed across his vulnerable retinas like a whip, and then his vision sank into complete darkness.
… Am I going to die?
No… I’m still conscious…
Where am I, then…?
Triton curled up on the ground, his body trembling uncontrollably beneath the unbearable pain. Warm blood continued to pour from the wound in his head, weaving a sticky, hot, iron-sweet blanket across his face.
“… Sister… he had lost so much blood… Father… we…”
Someone was talking.
Then something long and cold touched his head before pushing straight into the wound. The chill seeped through the torn flesh and pierced into his very marrow, nearly freezing his thoughts solid.
So cold…
In his daze, Triton thought he caught a glimpse of a blurred silver silhouette.
Sir Argentum? No… It seemed to be a… woman?
Then a pair of cool hands settled against his neck and began carefully working their way along it.
“Cervical spine… no obvious displacement…” An unfamiliar young male voice spoke. Presumably, he was the owner of these hands. “Then… any corruption…?”
Triton felt his head being gently lifted, then lowered onto something warm and solid—a “flat surface” that seemed to be someone’s lap.
He summoned every ounce of strength that was left in him and forced his left eye open once more—
A pair of enormous, pitch-black wings spread above him, absorbing every trace of light around them like a pall of death, blotting out the sky completely.
The “birdman” was cradling him in his lap, while a young woman whose body was made of mist knelt beside him, her hollow eyes staring down at him without blinking.
Triton suddenly realized that the cold object thrust into his skull was actually one of the mist-woman’s fingers, its surface translucent like frosted glass.
Wait… No. No, no, no, no…
An icy chill poured endlessly into his skull from the woman’s fingertip, numbing his nerves and dragging his consciousness toward a deeper, darker void.
“… Corruption… prepare… transfer…” He heard the “birdman” murmur under his breath.
A ritual… This has to be some kind of evil ritual!
Sir Argentum… had said… A soul could be forcibly severed from its body… bound, twisted… and eventually reduced to a tool…
“No… don’t…” He tried to struggle, his feeble protest no more than the buzz of a gnat. Yet the “birdman” held him with a strength that was deceptively gentle, utterly impossible to resist, while despair ran wildly through Triton’s every limb.
No… This can’t be the end… Not like this…
But his world was already collapsing, sinking at last into a chaotic mire where pure pain, twisted sensations, and fragments of consciousness churned together.
He was no longer an Apprentice Trailblazer, no longer even a “person” capable of thinking. He was merely a body, steadily coming apart beneath unbearable pain and dizziness, waiting for that final blow that could end all the misery and suffering for good.
“Triton!!!”
A shriek, high enough to crack one’s voice, tore through the chaos like lightning, piercing the walls of his fading consciousness.
“TRITON!!!”
The cry came surging through the air, filled with desperate urgency and an utterly resolute force that seemed to shake the soul itself.
It was the Siren’s Edict Song.
The enormous black wings over Triton’s head visibly trembled, as though struck by an invisible hammer. Their attempt to fold around him faltered, revealing a hesitation and stiffness they had never shown before.
“Let him go!!!”
“I said let him go!!!”
“Get away from him!!!”
Wave after wave of screams came crashing down like sonic cannon shells, pounding against Triton’s eardrums and his already-fractured nerves. He felt as though his skull were about to split apart beneath the violent onslaught of sound.
This was no longer the voice he knew as his sister’s. It was something much older, something far more domineering. It poured through the Siren girl’s throat, burning wildly on the fuel of her barely surviving sanity, forcing the inhuman creature before her to retreat.
It’s Ali… What is she doing…? That voice… Is she pushing herself past her limits?!
The “birdman” seemed shaken by the frenzied, reckless force of the Edict Song. At last, he released his hold on Triton, gently lowering him to the ground before slowly retreating with the mist-woman beside him.
“Get the hell out of here!!!”
“GET LOST YOU BASTARD—!!!”
Triton’s brain instinctively tried to respond to the command his sister was issuing. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run, yet his unresponsive body remained nailed to the spot, utterly incapable of moving.
In his blurred vision, the reassuring silver-gray shapes of Ali and his father’s armor rapidly grew larger until they filled his entire field of view—
She pulled him into her embrace.
“FUCK OFF—!!!”
With one final roar, pouring out every ounce of her anger, fear, and resolve, the “birdman” exchanged a glance with the mist-woman. At last, they stopped hesitating. His enormous wings beat down with a violent gust of wind, and the two figures vanished into the distorted air.
“… Ali…” Summoning the last scrap of strength he had left, Triton turned his head slightly toward his sister.
“There’s… no need to shout now… they’re… already gone…”
But Ali could no longer hear him.
“Go away…”
In his fading vision, the dim shape that was his sister mechanically repeated her broken commands. Her voice had been reduced to a ragged rasp, yet she stubbornly kept whispering the same words over and over, as though trapped inside a nightmare she could not wake from.
“Don’t touch him… no… don’t…”
Warm, wet droplets fell one by one onto his cheek, mixing with the blood and stinging his skin.
His sister was crying.
For a fleeting moment, the shrill howls of the Fallen Hounds and the muffled sounds of flesh being torn apart became clear in his ears once more.
No… The battle… isn’t over yet!
Fear crashed over his head like ice-cold water, jolting what remained of Triton’s consciousness fully awake.
Ali… Ali had exhausted herself! She could be in danger! He had to get up. He had to—
“Triton!” David’s arm clamped down on his son’s shoulder like an iron vise, holding him firmly in place. “No… Don’t move…”
In the midst of his struggle, the corner of Triton’s eye caught a raging figure at the edge of the battlefield.
Was that… a person?
A hooded figure, clad in a cloak like Argentum’s, was spinning through the pack in a frenzy. The twin conical blades in his hands became two storms of flesh and blood, spraying gore and shattered bone like rain wherever they passed.
The Fallen Hounds, their bodies wrapped in ominous black sludge, kept leaping upon him. Claws tore through his flesh; fangs sank into his bones. Yet the man reacted as though he were a puppet devoid of sensation, showing no response whatsoever to the wounds piling up on his body.
Above his head, framed by a pair of black stag antlers, a halo made of viscous blood turned slowly in the air. The falling blood drops seemed to possess a life of its own. They transformed into countless writhing crimson serpents, frantically burrowing back into the open wounds on his body, repairing them at a speed visible to the naked eye in a grotesque mockery of life itself.
The more severely he was wounded, the more wounds the Hounds opened up on his body, and the more frantically the blood halo spun. Until the shriek produced by the liquid whipping through the air at impossible speed ceased to sound like a mere whistle, but became the howl of some ancient, leaking pipe organ, playing the horrifying melody from the deepest pit of the abyss—one that seemed capable of shattering the soul itself. And finally, it swelled into a domineering roar that engulfed the entire battlefield.
Yet, the most horrifying thing just happened—
A mutated Fallen Hound, vastly larger than its kin, seized the opening created by the horned figure’s attack. Its enormous jaws snapped shut, and the creature bit the man’s entire head to pieces.
Amid the horrified gasps of everyone present, the headless body did not fall. Instead, it dropped its twin blades and seized the monster with both hands, tearing its throat open with sheer brute force.
At the same time, from the severed stump of its neck, flesh and bone burst outward like a blooming, eerie flower, twisting and reshaping themselves. Within only a few heartbeats, an entirely new head had grown back, fresh blood still glistening across it, alive with the cold and unnatural vitality.
The body merely seemed to shake itself off as though brushing away a speck of dust. The man picked up his weapons and resumed his orderly, horrifyingly efficient slaughter, until there were no living beings left within his sight except David’s and Argentum’s party.
… What the fuck is that thing?
The overwhelming stench of blood surged into Triton’s nose, so strong it made his vision blur again. When his sight finally regained focus, the antlered figure in the cloak was suddenly standing directly in front of him. Beneath the shadow of his hood, two ghostly green points of light stared straight into the boy’s bloodied, battered face.
The antlered man sheathed his twin blades and crouched down on one knee before the boy. Through his fading senses, Triton could just barely make out that he was a male.
The man sniffed the air, as though trying to identify a particular scent, then spoke in a slightly hoarse voice, each word slow and deliberate.
“Do you know… Solin Moirav?”
… Mom?
His mother’s name exploded through Triton’s muddled mind like a clap of thunder, leaving his already rigid thoughts momentarily blank once more beneath the pain and terror.
Then a long, resonant horn call pierced the air from the direction of the barrier.
—Reinforcements!
The antlered man’s head snapped toward the source of the horn. Without hesitation, he took a single step backward and vanished into the dense mist of the Forbidden Zone, disappearing without a trace.
Wha…
A final dull throb pulsed through Triton’s skull.
He could endure no more.
As though the profane notes and bloody visions had finally filled his head to explode, they dragged what remained of his consciousness mercilessly down into the void as his father and sister cried out.
…
“… How lucky. No corruption… the wound on his head has been ‘frozen’ shut, and he hasn’t lost too much blood…”
“… Mm. The meditation array… Mana Flowers… to stabilize the soul…”
“… The eye… penetrating injury… vision in the right eye… possibility of recovery…”
“… I’ve already taken care of that part… Yes. It’s what I should do, old friend… in my own name…”
“… Argentum! No! We…”
“… No. Otherwise… permanent damage. Loss of visual field, blurred vision… perhaps even blindness… the child’s future…”
“… Thank you… but…”
“…Speaking of which… his horns… Fortunately, the bone core is intact. But the damage is severe… the horn will grow back, only… most likely deformed…”
“… They can also be reattached… metal braces… rune fixation… permanent fractures are unavoidable…”
“… Actually, in a little while… the young lady will be coming by. She has a proposal… perhaps you should consider it…”
…
The air was filled with the scent of medicinal herbs and a faint sweetness left behind by purification, and time itself seemed to have come to a standstill.
Triton’s consciousness slowly rose from a sea of chaotic darkness. The entire right side of his face was wrapped in bandages, but through the lid of his left eye, he could vaguely sense the soft, gentle light of a medical ward.
The first voice to come clearly into focus was his mother Solin’s. It was gentle, yet carried a gravity he was not accustomed to hearing from her.
“… Miss Claret, this gift, we truly…” She paused, apparently searching for the right words. “We don’t know how to thank you. We will never forget Sir Argentum’s kindness. Our whole family is indebted to him.”
Sir Argentum? Kindness?
Triton felt a wave of confusion. What had happened?
Then his father David’s low voice reached him. It was calm, though slightly ragged, as if he had gone a long time without drinking water.
“We’re grateful for what you’ve done for his eye, but his horn and his eye are two different matters.”
What eye? And what horn… My horn…?
Fragments of memory filled his mind—the terrifying impact of the mutated Fallen Hound, the crisp crack of breaking bone, half his vision drowned in blood, and… that strange, hollow sensation, as though a part of his body had simply ceased to exist.
At the thought of it, a hot wave of pain and shame suddenly rushed into Triton’s cheeks.
“Mr. and Mrs. Featherflight, please don’t connect these two matters…”
A young girl’s clear voice rang out. She sounded nervous, her choice of words exceedingly polite, with a faintly aristocratic cadence.
“I only brought this up because… Triton was injured while trying to protect me. I cannot simply stand by and let him suffer a permanent disability because of my own inadequacy. The ‘Primordial Growth Factor’ may be able to help. I just… want to make amends for my mistake.”
Protecting her?
Triton searched through the corners of his memory, and at last found the blurred image of the Apprentice he had shielded in the chaos.
So it was her.
“We understand your kindness.” His mother’s voice came again, gentler this time, but just as firm. “But the ‘Primordial Growth Factor’… please forgive my bluntness, but this goes far beyond what we understand as conventional treatment. Until Triton wakes fully and makes the decision himself, we cannot accept such an extraordinary therapy on his behalf.”
“Solin would first like to understand everything about this substance in her capacity as an Artificer.” His father added. “How it works, how it is prepared, and every potential drawback. We need to be absolutely certain that it is safe.”
The word cost fell into Triton’s heart like a drop of ice-cold water.
What had Sir Argentum paid to save his eye? And what would this “Growth Factor” require his parents to pay?
“Naturally!” The girl—Claret—immediately replied, her voice urgent with a need to prove her sincerity.
“I will ask Sir Argentum to prepare all the relevant information as soon as possible. I give you… my personal word of honor that I will conceal nothing from you.”
The negotiations appeared to have reached a temporary conclusion, and silence briefly settled over the room.
Triton heard a faint intake of breath somewhere nearby. No one had said anything, but he immediately knew it was Ali.
Had they been placed in the same ward?
He wanted to turn his head and look at his sister, but forcibly restrained the impulse.
He could not let them know he was awake. Not now.
“Whatever decision Triton ultimately makes…” His mother finally spoke again. “Miss Claret, please believe that our gratitude toward you and Sir Argentum will remain unchanged, whatever he decides.”
Footsteps followed as his parents rose to see their guest out. Cloth rustled. The door clicked softly shut, and the adults’ voices gradually faded beyond it.
At last, the ward fell completely silent. Only he and Ali remained.
Triton lay still for several more minutes, waiting until he was certain there was no longer any movement outside. Only then did he carefully, slowly open the one eye which he could still see.
His blurred vision gradually came into focus. The world did not spin again. Instead, he saw the wooden ceiling of the medical ward.
He did not immediately turn his head to look for his sister. He took some more moments and remained lying on his back, letting every word and every shift in tone he had heard moments ago reverberate through his mind once more.
Debt. Cost. Mutilation. Choice…
His gaze slowly drifted toward the bedside table.
There, the white, scimitar-shaped horn that had once been part of his body lay quietly on a piece of flannel. Its broken end was jagged, stained with crusted blood. The sight sent a prickling chill across Triton’s scalp.
He raised his arm—thank goodness, his arm finally moved as he intended—and gently touched the rough, painful stump at his right temple. A profound sense of loss mingled with a weight he could not put into words welled up inside him.
He had really lost his horn.
His parents had bought him time, placing the final choice in his own hands. But what exactly was the cost?
He turned his head toward the neighboring bed.
Ali was lying on her side, facing him. She was awake, her mint-green eyes wide and filled with tears that had not yet dried. Triton noticed a strip of gauze smeared with ointment around her neck. A faintly glowing healing rune had been drawn across the thin, coarse white cloth.
She had temporarily lost her voice, and could not speak now.
When she realized her brother was looking at her, the exhausted girl let out a tiny whimper and slowly climbed out of bed. She walked over to Triton.
Understanding what she wanted, Triton shifted over to make room for her.
Ali curled up beside him, pressing herself tightly against him. As though she needed to make certain he was still alive, she buried her tear-soaked face in her brother’s warm chest.
Triton slipped an arm around her.
His cracked lips moved slightly as he whispered the first words after waking.
“Well… I heard everything.”
