(You may need this: https://lingojam.com/ZalgoText)
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The man knelt before the throne, grim-stained forehead touching the faded red carpet that led to her ornate seat. He was a young man and rather on the fit side. Most of the villagers were due to their lives of hard, physical labour. Even so, Yasha found herself unable to appreciate his fine physique due to the glaring bald spot visible on the top of his head. All of them had some flaw or another. It was a pity. She wouldn’t have minded adding him to her harem otherwise.
So distracted was she by the offensive pate that she missed his babbling, barely coherent words of praise for her royal house, royal name, royal person, and so on and so forth. She knew all the words anyway. The villagers always came in with the same litany, hoping that some twist of poetic phrasing might gain them some favour. Depending on her mood, all it gained them was points on the scale of “will the hydras eat today or not.”
The man’s litany of compliments came to an end and something twinged in Yasha’s mind. She would be expected to make a response now. Thankfully, she was saved the effort by the arrival of a deep, cloying shadow that encompassed the chamber.
The low burning sconces along the walls dimmed and nearly vanished beneath the wave of apparent black fog. It roiled and bubbled, spreading out along the ground with a near sentient direction sense. The leading edges skittered around the man, drawing a cry of surprise and fright from his throat. As the fog crawled up toward the throne, Yasha extended a single hand into the miasma, palm up. A heavy weight settled in her hand, growing larger and heavier over the passing seconds. Red eyes glinted in the darkness. First one set. Then another, then ten, then twenty. The chamber filled with a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through the stone beneath their feet. At last, the fog swept together, coalescing into a towering beast of midnight and flame. One of the beast’s heads rested against her hand as if balanced on a pinhead.
“Khutarr,” Yasha cooed, curling her fingers against the hydra’s chin. “You’ve returned so quickly.”
“It was ę̸̡̹̲̫̗̮͍̬͍̖̙̰͔͍̂ͅa̸̻̣̹͙̿͌́̔̚̕s̵͎̤̦̹͈̗̤̹̉̃͊͛̽̾͑̚y̸̭͒̐͌̽,” hissed a dozen voices from every dark place in the room.
“Did you hear that,” Yasha asked of the man on the floor. He had not lifted his head from the carpet, and she imagined that he rather preferred that sight to the one that lay before him now.
The hydras were akin to gods to these simple folk. Especially her beloved Diamis. Which, by extension, made Yasha a goddess. She would not object to such worship, though it did grow tiresome at times. At least the villagers had been quick to erect a receiving chamber that could fit not only the grand majesty of Diamis herself, but also her two precocious children. And it still had room for Yasha’s throne. Really, it was a masterwork in architecture.
“Your enemies have been slain,” Yasha continued when the man failed to produce any sort of acknowledgement. “Your village is safe. You may return home and celebrate with your family this night. We will be generous and hold off on collecting tithes until tomorrow.”
The man found his voice with great difficulty. He stammered several times, then lifted his head a few inches and dared to meet her gaze.
The ground trembled.
“Y- yes, your greatness. Your kindness is witnessed as a gift from the heavens. I- I only…”
The words sounded like the beginning of a question. Yasha knew they could not be, as no one questioned her will anymore. She arched a brow.
The ground trembled again.
Whatever courage the man had found fled quickly. His face paled and his eyes tracked up to something far over her head. Though his mouth moved, he’d once again lost the ability to speak.
“You are excused,” Yasha said, pairing the words with a graceful flip of one hand.
The man scrambled to his feet and bolted from the open ended chamber. It seemed he did have some self-preservation instincts after all.
“̷͙̘̰͍͕̲͓̊͂ͅY̸̨̖̓͌̂o̵͇̗̚̕u̷̧̠̦̥̫̺̦̻͑́̀̏ ̸̨̜̹̤͂̆̉̉̿ȧ̵͈̟̦̺̭̽̆ȓ̷̮͙͇͋́̾̓̀͠e̶̝͐̊̈́̌̾̓ ̷̧̤̣̱͉͌̏̉͛t̸͊́̓͋̀̐͑͜ȯ̶̧͍̠́͂͆̑̇͜ó̷̹̿̊͐̊͆ ̷̧͚͚̩̺͈̈́̆̑̔̑̑k̷̝͕͐̌i̸̤̫͇͎͎͝n̶̢̦͚͛͊͜d̴̥͋̌̈́̐͛͑͜͝ ̷̧̳̫͎̒̑̆̐̈́̂͆͑t̸̟̀o̸̳̎̂͆͗͊ ̶̧͇̐̀͝t̴̛̥̣̒́̈́͋̍ȟ̷̯̮͆̓̃͌ė̸͕̄͗͊m̸̢̛͖̼̫̗̎̇̉̓͌.̴̧͚̰̫̥̬̣̇͛͑̋̑̚̚͜”̶̘̤͍̗̾̾͒
The syrupy sweet words dripped over her mind and coated every inch of her thoughts. Yasha had long ago grown used to the touch of her bond and learned to parse her overlapping tones with ease.
“A little kindness here and there makes them far more willing to throw themselves at our feet later,” Yasha countered.
Diamis’ response was a low, bassy pressure that made the very walls of the chamber tremble. Thunder followed the vocalization, sounding each time the majestic hydra took a step. The sunlight filtering down through a skylight in the ceiling vanished as Diamis curled herself around the throne like a landslide coming to rest. Three enormous, blood red tails slithered up to the foot of Yasha’s seat. Khutarr withdrew his head from her lap and slunk away from the throne. Yasha looked up, and her world filled with eyes.
“̶͍͔̦̬̫͆̑W̶̫͉̬̻͈͈̆͗̌͝͝ͅẹ̵̘͒̄̚̚͠ ̵̩̰̓̀̓h̷̢͖̝̞͒͠a̸̫̲̠͆̈́̓̄͠v̴͚͎̠̌͒͂̓̇̿̓e̴̥̦͑̉͗͑ ̴̨̧̫̬̜̤͍͓͆s̴͎̜̬̲̼͎̀̈́̆̍͊̐̕ọ̴͗̈́̽m̵̛̺̺̩͍̰̥͕͆̂͋̀e̵̬̙̰̗͙̘̤̊͠ͅẗ̴̡̥̳̱̱͍́̀̃̂͋h̶͎́̏͌̔̉͝į̸͔͕̘̜̣͔̽̍͊͘̕͜n̵͍̦̠͊͌̊̀̎̽̈́g̵̨̦̖͙͎̙̱̣͐̑͑́ ̶̢͉͔͍͇͙̎̓ṭ̵̼̣͋̆̀̀̆̐̍̏ö̵͎̤̺̮́͂͑̍̾̈́ ̶̼̥̙̍̔̋́̋̑̉̂d̷̥͙̭̊ḭ̶͂̏̓͑̂s̷̝̺͉̪̮̟͉͔̀c̶̡̨̻̪̖̥̱͓̊̒̀͐̆u̵̦̲̲͈͕̗͇̅͗̒s̴̨̧̧̮̫̰͕͂̚s̴̩͎̭̬̟͂̃̀͆ͅ.̷̜̦̣̽̍”̵͉̉̍̿̀̎̓͛͜
“Then speak,” Yasha encouraged. She turned in her chair, throwing her legs up over one arm so that she could lean back and admire the way her bond’s many glowing eyes mimicked a hellish starscape.
“̶̢̛̭̘͙̺͒̿̊̎͋͝͝ͅÄ̵͙͉̯̙̟̩̺͈́̾̂̋̊ ̴̘͍͓͙̠̑̋͆͊̐̂c̵̠̺̊̈́̈́͝r̵̙͂̄e̷̡̦̺̺͚̣̤͂̃̚͝a̷͇̣̘̿̚͝t̷͚̓ͅǔ̷̡͚̭̪̦r̸̯͙͉̘̰͛̊͗̃̇̈́̆̄e̸̮͎̼͒̓̀̇͋̀͘̕ͅ ̶̝̳̔c̷̱͇̩͎̈́͗́̓̚a̶̠̝̗͑m̶͈͕̝̉̈́̊͘e̴͖͉̭̾̑ ̶̡̱͎͙͍̫̟͒̌͜t̸̡̰̜̫͖̳̦̼̔͒͆̈̏̓o̴͖̣̊͋̏̓͋͘͜ ̵̦͓̞̘̲͖̉̐̿̾́̓̍͌v̴̡̙̜͈̱͙̎̓͑̑i̶̢͕̪͚͚̞̋̍̿̒̓̐̊̚͜s̶̨̫̘̔̈́͛i̵͙͓͍̲͔̿̑̕t̵͙̥̩̯̦̲͕̏̏̀́̎̂ ̸̪͎͔̬͌̂ȩ̶̈́̾͊̾a̵̢̢̹̼̯͍̍̔̌̇͠r̵͓̩̞̘̭̾͑̃̊̔̃̈̆l̵̲̩͚̬͚͋̄̎͋̀͋i̸̯͝e̵̛͙̜͗̿͋̈́͜͝ͅr̴͎̻̆̾̌̀̏̕ ̴̨͖̭̘̪̹̱̂̊̓̚͝t̷͓̜́͗̕ơ̷̺͈̟̈́̓̐̈́̈́d̸̙̟͈͇̯̥͚́͑̏̈͑͝͠ͅā̶̜̤̪̲̜̮̞̀̈́̊̏̕y̷̥͇̝̜͗̂̑͛ͅ.̵̡̧̗̰̏̓̽́̊͊̈́̚ ̷̪̰̼̮̬̑̏̀̉̌Ḯ̷̘’̷̨̛̲̘̫͈̩̖̩͑ṽ̸͙̼̙̪̜͂͗̃̅e̶̙͆̔̏̆͛̀̀͋ ̴̝̥̬̠̰̊̀̀n̴̼͙͎͍͈̾̌͊͝ė̷̳̠̼͂̆̅͒͝v̵͖̺͉̟͉͚̞̥̍͂̎̏͂̉̓è̶̎͜r̸̡̲̣̣͉̹̈́͝ ̸̢̛͈̠̘̏͐̈́͠ͅş̵̝̦̤̪̣̎͝e̷̡̝̼̻̫̗̞͆͌͌̂̀̋͜e̴͚͐̐̄̽͋͆̐͝n̶̜̯̬̩͎̪̾̃͊́̑͜ͅ ̵̹̜͍̬͑̈́͗̾̓̕i̵̬̾̋͆̓́͛͠ṯ̸̽͂̈́̍̉͝͠s̴̛͇͍̦̼̞̀̀̏͜ ̶̟̇̌̉̉l̸̡͕̞̲͊̀i̵͚̦͗̀k̸͉̔̓̄̓̚͠e̵̱̲͎̘͖̒ ̵̝̘̌̍̋͝b̵͍̲̥̬̫̾̀̇̓͝ẻ̶̮̇̏̔͂f̸̳͕̙͔̩̳͚͉̔ǫ̵͖͔͚͑̓͑͆͐͗̃͘ř̸̟̼e̵͉̖͙̤͔̣͈̩̓,̷̻͙̬̬̱̱̉̈́̉ ̸̢̥̪̮̦̠̘̺̉a̷̖̲̗̔̇͒͆n̸̟͙̒̽̏͗ď̶͖̤̹̺͔ ̶̰͇̍̓̋͋́͌͊̚i̵̦͒̿̓t̸̞̭̪̤͉̘͓̙̎̚ ̴̗̝̼͔́̍̈́̿̓́̕n̸͍̟̋́͛̚ȇ̶̡̘a̵̹̮̖̻̦̳͕͑͛̑̓̀͊̈́r̵̢̛͉͇̠̐̐̓̂l̵̡̟̥͈̖̈́y̶̵̨̧̢͖̲̘̠͓̗̫̯͑̍̈̒̒e̸͇͕̠̒͛̏n̸̨̢̯͙̲̟̒͋̒̋̂̀d̸̛͈̑́̕͠e̵̮̮̺̭̺̔͘d̴̢̝̹̈͗̇̌͌ ̶̡͍̟̼̝̃̇̃̌̓̈́ū̵̥̰̙͜p̷̦͓̍̆̇̍͌͝ ̸̖̓̿͝a̸̖͍̽͗͑̃̏̐͆͆͜ş̴̛̔̔̒̾̓ ̴̡͚̹̪̘̯͔̟͑͋p̷̡̹̫̋ä̵̢̢͔͓͙̳́̽̽͒̓̉r̵̳̝͔͖͝ͅt̷̡̡̍̅̋͂̄͘̚͝ ̸̡̛̰̤͈̏̊̎͜o̴̹͌̄̀̈́͊̀͒f̸̹͗̋̀̏̅͝͝ ̷̡͔͈̪̘̗̋̎̀͌̇̓Ş̵̤̂̎̑̂͊̈́p̴̱̮̤̈́͋̃̃̑̔͝h̴͙́̃a̴͎̩̔̉g̸̛̟͍̰̟̘̺̭̀̚r̶͖͉͋͐͒̔ą̸̺̹̟̻͔͙̺̽̅’̷̫̮̜̂͑̈́͒̒͜s̴̛̛̉́͜ ̷̱̈́͠l̶̩̤̻͆̀͝u̴̦̥̮̠̝̟͖̓ñ̸̛̮̱̥̣̞͍̻̎̑̌́̊c̴̦̜̃̈́̌̃͌͜͝͝ͅḥ̶͖͇̞̱̆͆͑.̷̛̟̗͛̽”̸̧̛͇̬̺̪̅̅͑̓͝
“It must have said something very interesting for you to deny your beloved daughter.”
The pressure returned to the air, squeezing the breath from Yasha’s lungs. She strained against it, enjoying the instinctive trill of panic it created in her lizard brain.
“̸͗̈́̀̐̏͠ͅI̵̛̞̬͈̹͑͊̓͌̚t̴̡̬̼̞͚̝̾ ̸͎̞͙̦͑̈́͋̈́̔s̵̡̰̲͙̭̘̹̘͒p̵̤̘̱̖͖̗̔ơ̸̫̰̜̹̑̽̑́̈́k̸̢̗̞̫͍͆̋͑̏̇͌̏͝e̶̢͔̥͊͗ ̶̛̫̬̀̒̄͝͠o̶̢̥̟̰̟̟͍̱̅f̴̤̤̺̼̖͓͛̎͂̈́͛̊ͅ ̵̠̺͚̌̐̓͂͝͠a̴̢̨̞̰͇̩̋ ̶̠̜̪̦̬̌̽͛̊͜ç̸͍̔͊͘ḷ̸̨͖̟̭͇̿͋̓͠ű̸̧̪̼̳̖̘̖̦̂t̴͙͇́̀c̷̟͇͈̰͙̘͖̀h̷̫̞̭̺̞̓̀͋͊̑́͘.̵͍̯̺̣͈̃͊̎̈́͠ ̷̨̢̯͎͍̥̪͇̊̅͘̕̚̚B̵̧̼̗̺͂̈́̾̈̀ą̴̛͙̝̯̬͒͗̃̾̈́͐̒͜l̷̦̲̲͎͕̿̌̇ě̷̛͙̥͈͇̻̩̀̂̍͘f̷̛̗͌͛̿͊̕i̵̻̦͍͚̬̪̩̔͆̔͝r̸̜̤̯̗͓̈̒̽͑̔̈̚͝ẹ̴̢͈͇͔͈̰̓̄ ̵̨̢̟̙̭̭̉â̵̟͔̯̽n̴̢͚͉̫͒̀͊͘d̷͙̝̘̎̾͗͝ ̶͍̠̳̐́̾̊̔̅͠m̵̭̦̽̇͜y̵̨̧̼̲̮̅͋̀̉̆̚͠ŕ̷̡̺̳̍̕͝m̴̢͓͎͑̌̿̄̂̋̄e̴͚̦̟̬̹̣̥͒͑́̕͠͝͠x̷̤̺͍̫̋́̇͗͐͝͠.̵͇͊́”̷͈̟͎̳͆̀̎̆̐̀̚
“Mirror what?”
“̷͈͛̅̎͑͗̚͠M̸̡̨̻̹͇͗ỷ̷͉̦̘̞͇͖̠̼͒̀̈́͘r̸̬̙̺̹̲̳̍̅̽̔͘m̶̨̢̦̼̣̈́̒̅̎̋̓e̷̢͓̜̘̬̟͑ͅx̵͙͚̳̄͗̈́̏̅́̂̋͜͜.̸̡̢̣̪̙̙̿̊͂̈͗̋̂̚ ̷̗̰͉̝̺̃͋̉̅̌̉̓̋À̴̡̮͈̮͖̫͍̀̓͆̏̓̀̌ ̷̻̩͕͙̻̥̝̓̔n̸̨̹̓͛̎̀̂͂͒ͅè̵̡̼͙͍̖̙͌̽͝ẁ̷̩͖̼͌̎͝͠ ̷͍̯̘̜̹̠̽̔̌͊͋́͒̆ş̶͔̠̊p̶͕̻͈̋̔̉̃̒͆́͘ę̵̭̯̥̉͛̔̇͐c̸͚͇̜̪̋͛͠i̶̝̾̍̄̽ȩ̷̺̲̭̒̈́̋͋̀̾̀͝ș̴̔͒͘̚͝ ̸͎̼̬̃̌͊̆t̴̥̺̠̱̤̏̊̄̾͝ơ̸͉̦̞̪̫̝͠ ̶̹̱̯̮̞̥͐̿̀͆̾͛͝t̵͉͙̬̠̮̪̄̃̈́ḩ̴̩͕̭̼̳͒͛̀̉͛͘͘ͅe̷̛̙͆́̀̐̚ ̶̢̻̮̪̗͒̑͊̍̓̍͜Ń̵̛̹̈́͆́͘͝͝e̷̮̭͖̖̞̻̰̿̇̑͝x̷̨̬̺̱̌u̸͌̏͜ṣ̸̘̳̳̈́͆̈́̂̅͝.̵̞̱̤̩̳̹̀̃̊ ̷̟͑͆K̶̜̈́n̴̳̄ō̷͇w̸̪̋̔̉̈̈͋͋̕n̶͚͒̐͗ ̵̞͇͇̓̓f̶̩͖̣̒̕ò̶̖̈́̈́͋r̷̜͚͊́͊͑̐̃̿ ̷͔̟̹̗̰̿͌̈́͒̌̓̾ẗ̴͖́͛̔͌̏̀͘͝h̵̜̗̭̳̱̍͗̀̓̏̀̇͝ͅĕ̴̩̥͓̿į̴͇̥̗͇̂͛̀̕ŕ̶̛͙͔͊ ̷̢̫̟̼́̂̓̿̓̆f̵͇̹̽ẻ̶̢̜̦̯̮̘̞͊͐̄̈́c̶̛͓̾͑̓̐̍͒u̶̬͉̜̼̝̱̫͛ñ̵̺̞̌̅̆̊͘͠d̵̥̼̔̑͆̆̐̆̈i̴̧͓̖̟̜̎͝͝t̵̗͆ý̶̰̪͒̆.̸͍̈̽͗̋̈”̷̮̈́̊͆̾̍
Yasha’s peace of mind began to crack. She scowled and sat up, but kept her attention fixed to the sea of hydra heads above her.
“Why do we care about a species that breeds a lot?”
“̵̗̖̦̫̭̊͝B̶̡̬̳̥̬̜͉̀̇͐́̌̀̓̿ë̸̢̜͕̙̣͉͔̔̑č̷͇̎̀̿̂͂̒̓á̴̢̗̩̫̮͉̐̆̀͋ũ̸̼̫̋̂̽̿͠s̵̠̖͛̄̄͛e̸̫͆̒ ̴̨̢̰͇̤͎͓́́͆͝w̵̖̑̎̽̎̐̆̊e̷̳͕͔̭̺͌̆̀̆͒̀͒ ̴̧͙̣͔̗͔̄̌͘͜ȁ̶͔̰͈̘̇̔̌̏ṛ̴͖̟̥̠̣̋̒̀̾͘͝e̴̢̗͍͇̙̐̏̊ ̷̩̙͚͖͔̱̃͒g̸̭͍͍͑͐̒̽͘ơ̷̱͙̤͔̰̹̿́̿͝í̷̗̜͎̙ͅn̴̯̖͇͚̹͚͋g̵̭͔̑̋̃̐́̓̕ ̴̢̥̂t̵̡̯̼̝̩̰̀͆̕ö̵̙̖͇͉̳̩̳́́ͅ ̸̜̞̭̫̬̙͌̂c̸̛̞͇̬̑̉͑̎̇̏̕ͅl̶̰̮͕̼̬̭̊̅̾å̷̡̫͋̕ḯ̷͚̘͖͖̯m̴̡̢͓̬͈̩̜̓ ̴̙̳̘̣̖͚̠̅̒́̓̾̂͠s̵̫̰͛̄̈͜ŏ̶̧̝͍̪̮͑͑̔̊̽͜͝m̵̢̬̻̓̔̔̍͝ě̵͚̙̄͋̎̾̄̇͠.̵̲̝͆ ̷̫̝͒͒̓̅̈́̿̋͘Y̵̗̐̈́͗o̶̧̠̠̺̹̹̮͛̀̈̊͂̕̚ṷ̶̖͐͊̆̊ ̶̩̑͂̀w̸̨̳̫̥̥̪̜̑ͅi̴͇̥̺͠͝ļ̸̬͈͝ĺ̵̝̜̟̹̰̭̈̍̀͋̉ ̵̡͔̭̯̂̍g̸̛̣̩͉̺̠͉͐́ǫ̵͉͙̠̰͎̮̼͋̽ ̷̲̘̟̲̻̌̈́̾̕͠ͅw̴̬̠̺̆̇̉̎̋͆̀i̴͙͍̫͚͈͗͋̃͑́͊̍̈ṫ̸̨̗̱̠̭̤̔̾̊̉͐͆h̷̗͎͍̉͐̄̀̀͜͝͝ ̵̡̼̐̑̂̅͒͐͝ṱ̸̨̹̣̠̤̉͜ẖ̴̢̻͚̪̝͛̀͝i̴̢̺͒̓̎s̵̟͚̐̍ ̶͙͍̥̗̤̔̉̎̽̔̏͂͘ͅm̸̪̯̰͇͛̎y̷̧͔̳̟͊͛ȓ̸̞͉͍̒̈́m̵̳̘̫͈̺̲̼̼̎̓̐͌͑̓͗̚e̴̖̱̜̹͍͗́͂͜x̴̤̍ ̶̜͍̣͍͎͈̻̝̊̆͛̈́̔c̵̳̝͌͒r̷̙̈́̉̑̏͌̕ê̴̺͙̗̙̜̯̹̬̑͌a̸̧͙̺͇͕͆̓̀̊̋͘͘͜t̶̮̭̆̽̅́̑̚ů̶̙̺͎͚̳̞́̓̾͜ͅr̴͙̱͈̲̈́̏̃̓͊͝è̵̺̪̳̞̟͕͎͊͌.̷͚͚̟̑̀͐̾̍̄͝ ̸̖̰̺͕̬͙̾̂͋͋͊̊͜Y̶̨͖̻͛͌̽̈́ò̵̢͉͎͔̝̰́̀͝͝ủ̸̡̺͉͚̤̲͎̭̓̅̚ ̶̧̙̾̆w̴͇͙̱͈͇̻͖̉̇̉͌͑̾̾͝i̸̼̬̜̫̐͗͗l̶̗͔͍̽͂̕l̸͍͖͗̉̊̀͒̊̿̚ ̷̢̧̲͕̮̞͓̄̃̂͛́͜͝b̷̭̙͖̬̝̲̑̄̇̀̔̆͝ŗ̴̥̝̥̬͑̕͝i̷̲͍̿̽̚͝n̷̪̭̰͈̫̳̂̀g̵̛͕̟̯̣͓̈́̓̈́̕ ̴̱̑̍̊̈́͠m̷̱̙̄̎̈́̏͝e̵̡̖̞̠͓̣̩̻͂ ̵̦͍̞͈͋̈́̓͂̾͐v̶͍̘̲̑́̋̈̕͠͝͝ì̵̧̠̥̬͖͓̀̎̍̔̓͊̿ä̴͖̟̳́̇̀̎̔ͅb̴̪̝͚͇͚̩̳̲̿l̴̢̮̭͊͂͗̈́̍̔͌e̴̪̗͔̭̣̮̿͝ ̸̨͖̩͚͍̎͆͗̏̈́͒͑͂ô̴͙͓͗́̕͘f̷̯̗́̈́̽f̷̫̱͕̱̫̥͍̞̀̇̃̍̈͠ŝ̷̡͕͎̣̤̺̱̈́̓̄̓̽p̷̢̫̫̬̪̌̈́͐͠r̷̨̛̩̲͚̤̝̜͉̔͒͗̅͂͒į̵̛͖̤̥̱̣͜ṉ̶̨͚̘̲̳̃̋̈̓̂̽͒͘g̷̛̟̺͓̠̈́̍̈́̓.̴̥͈̿͒͆̌̀̀͘͝ͅ”̸̳͌̃͌̇
“No. Absolutely not. When we settled here, we swore to never leave this world. It’s too risky going out there. Any one of those scheming bastards might give us away to the red bitch. And then where will we be, hm? You think we can take on an army alone?”
“̵̲̘̰͍̇͆͛̚͝͝͠N̴̘̯͚͊̿̋͂͊̚̕̕o̴͍̞̻̥̥̹͈͗̕t̵̹̤̻̬̬̞̪̣́̅̿̚͝ ̷̞̣͍̠̜̫̈́͒͝ͅạ̸̟̀̊̆̐̽̎͘͝ş̵̭̅͆̽̿͒͂̊͝ ̷̨̨̡̰͇̼̼̌̓̋͜͝ẉ̸͈̻̅̑͑̋̔̚͠e̴̪̘̳͌͜͜͝͝ ̵̦͒̍͒̈͠ặ̴̢̢̜̭̟͍͎̈̾́͒̊͗r̸̛͚̗̋̍͋͗̕ẹ̶̢̧̝̲̩́̍͘,̴̢̮͇̊ ̵̨̭͑̀̐̅͛͌̂͘ṇ̷̞̑̔̾͛ȍ̶͖̱̬̦̥̩͈̓͊̾́̋.̵̛͚̹̝̻͉̪̤̈̓̀̏ͅ ̸̟̫̄̋̏̾͌̒̚͝T̵̛̞͎͔̤̀͆͊̅̉̽h̶̭͍͈̞̫͉̫̾́̔̑̆ͅi̶͙̚ŝ̶̺͇͔̦̥͛̈́̏͋͂̚͝ͅ ̸̟̲̤̰̃̌͆̍̔͠ị̷̡̝̘̝͖͍̓ͅs̴̥̱̃̔͌̽̒͠ ̶̛͈͈͉̎̑̈̋͠w̴̭̣̩̅̾̐̂̇̑͠h̶̨̼͙̘̬̞̟͔̍y̵̳̘͌͊ ̶̯̲̠̱͖̌̏̓̚͜͜I̸̙̤̱̝͛̄̆ ̸̡̛̪̮̩̥̍̒̀̕͝͝ř̸͍̺̘̥̫̭̈́̓͑͘͝͝e̸̦̭̽̐̈́̎q̵̮̰̑͊̐́̎͂̎̐u̷̡̨͙̜̺̟̰̅̊̎̽͊i̸̛̻̦̥̺̣̽̔ȓ̶̢̠̲͉̬̝̓͆͘ȩ̵̡̧̡̛̰̦̺̞͑͒̀̈́̉͊ ̶̯̖̍̅͋̎̏͊̒͊m̶̤̦̜̀̒͑́͋o̷̢̢̖̭̲͕̿͒́ͅr̶̡̫̼̤̀̇͌́̋ḙ̴̃́͋͋͒̕͝͝ ̷͈̱̖̱͖̯̃̿͘͠͝s̴͚̙̗̙͑̾̒͌̈́́û̸͕͈̭̝͋̀͘b̶̻͚͗̕j̴͍͙̠̩̦́̅̑̒͆̊é̵̪͎̳͎͙́͝c̴̢͚̭̼͂͒͐̏̓ṫ̴̲͚̺͔̤̀͜͠s̸̡͕̱͖̉.̵̣̬͎͕̫͇̃́̀̂̈́̚͠ ̶̢̰̹̥̬̿́̿̔͒̏͠T̴̡̊̑͗̏h̸̲̯̍̓̒̍̈́̔͐͝e̷̡̛̯̱̟̦̓̇̐ṡ̴̢̛̱̗͔͒̎̌͘e̸͈̳̞͖͈̗͋̓̂͑̂̕̕͜͝ ̷̺̭̘̟̂́̇̐b̸͚̦͉͙̖̗͍̓̆̊́͂̉͐̍ͅạ̵̛͇̩̟̥̰̃̊̿̆͌ͅͅḷ̵́ͅȩ̷͇̜̻̉͂f̸͚̜̜͈͓̰̥̈̕͠i̵̡͓̟͉͈̐͂r̶̨̥̰̦̔͑͜͠e̷͎̞̹̽̐̃̆͒͊ ̴̡͍̼͇͓͎̐͂̄͛͗̕̚͜m̷̛̱̰͛͒͠ͅỳ̵͔̝̖̞̥̹̇́̿́͛̚ͅr̶̡̖̱͍̙̭͂͋m̴̻̪̉e̸̬̾̓̏̑̎̐̓ͅͅx̵͙̝̫̜̟̹̔͐̏̋̅͘͝ ̵͉̓̀̊͘͝c̵̙̜̓̽͗͝r̷̗̽̆̈́e̷͙̒̓̽ä̶̢̯̫̰̙̤̳̜́̃̀͛̕t̵̰͓̳̹̀̒̄̈́̚ǘ̸͚̒̈̒̾͛͘ȓ̵̖̞̖̳̓̎͑̾̀͛̚ḛ̵̈́̅̏͌͝͝s̴̡̥̲͈͎̎̌̿̾̽̕ ̸͔͕̋̔s̵̨͚̯͉̣͒̿e̶̝̩̼̮̼͊̒̇̔̀ȩ̶̛̖̱̯̯̜͕̈́̃̄̓́̈͜͝m̵̧͕̩͎͋̈́͘ ̵̧͓͊̈́̎̔̋͗͝͝ẁ̶̡̘̙͇͚̒͆̑̔͒͠ẻ̸͇͉͉̗̥̑͊̿͒́̚ͅl̷̠͕͗̊͛̿͝l̴͙͊̎̉̇̈́̇̓͝ ̷̡̥̤͓͎̓ͅş̸̲̙̝̘̦̇͊͗̒ͅũ̷͉̤̒͊̅͜i̵̧̝͔̒̿̎͒̏̅̔̊t̴͈̒̾̅̾͗e̷̳͔̕d̴̨̬̪̬̝̐̋ͅ.̴̰̦̟̘̰̄̄̓̽̎̀̈͆ ̵̢̧̺̲̯̱̤͈͑̂̃̂̑͌̀Ŏ̵̟͖̝͍̄͆̾͐ŕ̴̡̛͉͓͔͙̬͜ ̵̨̑̅̚ẹ̸̩͍͉̪̺̓̈́͌͑̾̀ļ̴̛̲͖̅͊̄̏̅͜ṡ̴̨̡̛͉͕̬̺͓̺̌̃̔̈́̃́ȩ̵͍̻̥̗͉̬́̀̑͋̾̀͘͝ ̸̡͚̩̭̅t̸̛͍̖̪̬̅́͂̾h̷͍̠̓ȅ̵̯̦̓͑̉̀̚ͅy̷̭͗͒̀͑̈́͛̊̕ ̶̧̮̩̫͑̏̈̊̚w̵͚͍̰̽̆̌͐͗͆ḯ̵̧͔̼͛̆̃͒̎l̷̟̝̪̆͋̿͆l̸͔͕͔̞͛̅̀͋̄ ̸̪̤̲͎̻̇̃̑͛̀̑͂͜b̶̠͔͙̜̗̝̯̒͌̽̓́͂̓̌ͅê̸͍̗͍̞͍͖̄͗̍̆͆̏͜ ̸̬͉̞͍̀͋̇͐̓̈́̓͘w̵͍̯̭̼̤̩̟͑̎̔̋ͅe̵͖̪͖͇͎̭͌͐̉́͗̈́̚͠l̶͍͚͎͆̏l̸̯̥̬̅͑͂̏͌͠ ̶̙̓̋͑̈́̎̒̆̚s̷̨̖̈́͂̔͆̏ͅu̷̗͈͓̬͋́̓͝ͅi̵̬̙̓t̴͈͍͓̄̉͂͐̆̏e̸͙̠̤̤̔̾͂̄d̶̠̙̺̆ ̶̭̓͛t̸̢͓̮͓̝̪̦͙̋̐̄̂o̸̡̼̤̘̖͈͓͆̽̆̑͒͐͊̚͜ ̶̖̙̞̳̆͆̍͑̆̔̂̆f̴̧̩̫̜́̊̒́͊̽̅̄e̷͕̝̖͇̣̹͑͜e̶̝̯̮̹̎̇͗̃ͅd̶̫̾̉̚͝ ̷͚̱͔̪̤̮̟̤̈́̀͋̈́̈́̑̃̕m̵̻͛͂͗̈́y̸̞̪͇̪̿̊̃͒̏ͅ ̴̟͖̰̘͙̅̅̀̕͝c̸̯̿ḩ̸̢̧̜̹̮͕̣͂̂̿̾̐͊͒̂ǐ̷̛̙̹̳̈́̏͑͘͠l̵̤͓͚͉̽͂̍̽͑̏͝d̴̡͇̠͖̝̝̞̿̃͘͝ͅr̸̩͙͓̲̔ȩ̴̂͐̾̇̆͗̕n̷̛̜͎̭̅̀͌͐̍.̵̖̖̤̼̺̈́ͅ ̴͈͕̀̐̚͝Ę̶͕̱̟̯̖̐ͅĩ̵̞̑͛̌̎̕͝ẗ̶͕̲̱̯͚̱͔́͌̐͒̾̓̉͘h̷̲͚̔̍̊̈́e̴̛͔̮̻̙͛̂̆̇͊̚̚ŕ̵̡̦̼̦̌̓͌̈́̽́͝ͅ ̴͇͙̖͎͔̳̬̍̿͌w̶̨̛̫͍̤̜̆̀̿͑̏͘a̷̢͓̞̔̄̾y̸̧̼̮͚̳͍̌̇̚ͅ,̴̭̩͈̪̠̺͐͌̀̊̇̕͝ ̸̺͎̙̎͊͋̽͐̇y̴̪̖̪̼̙̳̱̾̈́́̑̐̏͝ơ̶̮̭̦̻̱̳̜̺̚u̵̡̹͛̉̎̇̍̓ ̶̛̖͎̩̄́̀̑́̄w̴̨̦̜̗̖̮͇̫͗̒̈́̋̊͌̊í̵̤͓̹̱͛̓l̵͔̣̽l̵͉̾ͅ ̶̨͙̗̬̤̔̈́r̶͓͙̒͛̊͗̆̾͑e̸̝̻̬̅t̵̨̬̯̭̩̬͋̂̔̍͝ͅŗ̶̜̝̖̪̒͋͌̊̌̐i̵̯͆̌͝ë̷̱́́͗v̸̨̺͚̎̿e̴͕̮͍̰̝͑̎͌͘ ̸̧̼̦̦͚̀̃̕͝͠t̸̨̔͌͒̍̕ȟ̴̻̟͈̲̲̔͛̑ḝ̶̘̜m̶̢͙̹̲͖̹̓̏͆̑̎̐͌͜͝ ̸̡̯̞̜̈́̾̇̈́͊̕̕f̶̡̪̲̱͙̎̔͂̈́͗o̵̰̩̩͕͍̫̔͛́̍͂͘r̸̼̉͗̔͠ ̷̣͕͚̐̇̑͗͘͜m̴̢̛͕̹͐̎̐̍̎̑̚e̶͇͎̳̓̈́.̴̻̄͑͠”̵̥͙̙̪̪̻͕̇̎́̆͛̈̊͘
“I will not.”
The persistent, low level pressure of Diamis’ presence grew heavier. Dozens of red eyes narrowed to slits, and the soft, rhythmic hiss of her lesser heads took on a sharper edge.
Khutarr slipped further from the center of the grand chamber, melding himself into the shadows at the far edges. He was wise enough to make himself scarce when his mother grew displeased. Only Yasha dared stand up to her. But that was why Diamis had chosen her in the first place.
“For decades, I’ve been enough,” Yasha continued. “You’ve never even considered other bonds before this. Why now? Why these creatures?”
“̸͖̔̈́́̈́̿͐̑B̷̦͍̬̯̬̑̈́̃̓̀̃͘ͅé̴͓̫̘͈̩̗c̷̡̰̟̙͙̻̼̫̓͑̌̀̎ầ̴̢̈́̔̾̃̿͝ū̷̡͓̪̝͙̱͉̜̎̚s̴̼̼̼͛̄̕ę̸̙͖̫̞̒̎͑́̂͒̃ ̴̖̃̇t̸̛̖̤̪̺͓̂̽̅̅͑̎͝ḩ̶͊̈́͜͜i̵̡̡̻̝͙̗͖͕̓̀͆͗s̸̱̬͈̬͉̼̹͓̈͂̉ ̵̣͖͔̺̰̳̞̎͘h̶͉̠̦̻̒͊̋̽ạ̴̛͈̇̎̅̽̉̅̕s̶̻̟͙̃̈́̋͐͝ ̷̲͆å̴͙̙̂͝l̷̜̝͈̠̦̍̔̉̓̓̕͜w̴̨͖̫̿̆̐͆̈́͜͜͝a̷͔̓̈́y̷̜̪̬̽̄̔́̀̍̚͘s̷̙͙͔̱̖̤̏͒ ̴̬̄b̷̢̮̠̜̌͠e̸̖͔̝͕͕̤͙̺̓͗͐̕è̵̡̬͈̥̗̝̂̃̃̿n̵̖̂͊́ ̴͕͔̬̙̪̣̰̦͛̽̅͊̕ẗ̴̢̯͖͖̗̮̖̻́̔̈́̽͗̏͝ȟ̶̨̡̳̯͈͕͙͉̈̀e̶̮͍̙̼̺̻͉̍̀̋͊ ̸̦̭͙̿p̶̰̤̺̮̤͒̃l̸̘̘͇̎̑̑̏a̴̫̥̯̐͊n̶̢̦͉͝.̶̟̰̤̟͛̈́̀̄̆̆͌̚ ̵̟̃͒̚W̴̭̲̩͐e̴͈̯̭̦̞̥̖͛̓͛̓ ̵̲̖̜́͆̒h̴̡̫̺̻̹͊̅a̷̙͐̃͊̋̈́̕v̶̰́́̑̕͠͝e̸̡̥͉̟͐̊͐̃͝ ̴̟̤͇̳̯̑̓͑͂l̷̥̥͙̫͕̣̔̿̔ą̷̺͐̈́͆̑͠i̷͈͙̤̯̒̾̑̇͐̓̃ñ̷̟̪̻̐̇̍͂̏̚ ̸̰̗͎̺̖̤̹̍̅̈͌̓͝ì̴̡̬͓̠̩̹̤̼̓̓͊̅̾̓ṇ̶̘̝̳̋̀͜ ̶̜͇̝͚̦̝̰̿́̀̀̐w̸̩̠̥̣̻̓a̸̹̮̚į̴̠̱͖̭̯̬̹͗̓̾̀̿́̇t̴̺̆̌,̸̢̛͇͚̑̈́̄̚͠ ̴̡͓̳̖̟͓͖͝͝t̶̺͎̳̙̯̜́̑͜ü̸̙͕̍͒̂͠c̷͖͂̃̌͆͌̾͘͝k̶̖̝̔́ẻ̴̤̘̀͒̌̃͂d̷̨͕̝͎̮̒̈́͐ ̴̢̻̞͔̪̥̒̽̅̾͂̈̅à̸̩͔̘̩̼͕͎w̸̤̮͈̹͕̐̅̒͆͛̕a̶̞̙̲͗͊̔̾͘͠͝ͅȳ̵̧̃̀̚ ̸̨̣͙̼̙͓̱͋͐i̵̹͍̎̓͆̈́̉͐́͠n̵̡̢͚̥̙͍̈́ͅ ̶̛̘̱̮͋̋̈́̚̚͠t̵͍̠̜͍͓͙̄̒h̶̞̟̱́́̎̎̄͝i̷̬̣̱͗̐̐̈́̎s̷͈͈͖͈̱̅́͐͐̉͑̄ ̵̧̩̖͈̫͛͌̄̃͛b̸̧̡̳͚̰͛͂̈̏͋͘ḁ̵̿͛͜c̷̰̙͍͗̈́͒͆k̶͉̻̣̖̟̥̚ ̵̛̻̈́̂ẅ̴̳͍̙̜͒͂͂̎͌̕͠a̵̮̤̼̤̪͇͋̚͘͘͜t̴͕̠̔͒̈́̿̀̓̑ȩ̴̝̰̻̣̏̈̊r̵̨͇̖͍̦̬̀͠ ̸̛̲̭̯̬̈ẉ̷̮̤͉̭̤͍͉̇̓̓ỏ̸̥̬͋̆̐̽͌r̶̹̠̥̮̼̄́͜ͅl̵̛̰͕͉̟̦͙͂̾́̾̃ͅd̴̗̬̻̹͈̙̅͛̂̍̃ ̷̠̻̥̠͐̓̀̈́̈́͘f̶̜͇͎͔̹̦̈́̉̾̄̈́͜o̴̻̟̞͂͐̑̂͋͝ŗ̷̤̜̭̪̹̮͑̄͂͝ͅ ̵̭̳͎̼͍̻̉̓̇̉͘͝d̷̯̊͗̆́͋̉e̵͈̠͚̊̔̀͋̑̇̚ͅç̵̟̬̔̂́́̎͛ą̶̳̀̍d̴͎̩̲̾́̔͘͜ȩ̶̟̦̟̘̑ș̵̮͍͖͙̝̳͗̑̐̈́̔͘.̸̼̩͌̌̊͂ ̸̧̰͓̟̳̜͔͍́̀͘W̶̝̞͈̺͋̓̓͑̔̇͜͠ḧ̴͓͉́̉́̐a̶̡̟̬̿͌̀̑͊͗̕̕t̴͎̞̺͎̜̟̔̊̊ ̴̢̡͓̖̻̰̘̤͂͆͌f̵̛̫̫̺͈͇̬̮́̃̾́ͅẽ̶̝͍͐̋́̅̿̀̓ͅw̵̪̞͙̣̗̌ ̶̤͈̹͐͠f̸̫̩̂̀́o̶͚̮̙̐r̷̯̜̬̱̪̾̑̎͊́̿̾̌à̶̖̑̂̌̾̽͋̅y̵̫͗̂̉͘s̴̠͈͔̗͛̾̍͜ ̸̨̣̙̱̅̈́ͅI̵̧̞̥͚̜̦͗͐͝͠ ̴̨̲̹̜̩̳́̂h̶͉̀̓͘á̵͉̙̈͌̂̉̀̚ͅv̶̡͕̙̦͌̑͝ͅě̴̱̣͐̿̐̑ ̷͉̊̈̿̂̉͝ͅm̸̡̨̦̘͖̜͈̖̈́̌̋a̶͕̜̒ḍ̷̛͙̪͖͋͂́̍͊͂ẻ̷̛̛̖̰̟̟͙̙̓̑̒̑͘͜ ̴͍̗̠͉̞͐̓̂̾͂̅̽͝i̷̙̼͑̈́͛̿̎͘n̵̛͍̲̞͂̎͐͗͝ť̶͈̩̺̗̘̯̩̉̐̈́͝ö̵̧̮̣̩̻̯͙́ ̸̡̜̑̿͌́̌̍͛̀t̷͍̪̿̍h̴̗̞̳̙̣̙̽̍̀̆̇̋̈͝ͅe̶̡̘̪̥͕̮͑̈͆̕͜ ̸̢̺̗̐̈̓̓Ņ̷̢̧̛͙̮̝̲̝͆ë̸͇͔͎̳̹͓̿̋͛͘x̵̛̭̤̳̞͆ư̵̲̌̃̇̊s̵͖͜͝ ̸̧̬̤̰͈̪̇̿́̊̕͝h̷̨̟͚̻̰̲̽̎͑͂̉̓̅͝ả̵̡̩̖͇̹̪̯̪͊̕v̴̤͈̞̯͇̱̞̿̓́e̶̳͊̿̌̀͋͠ ̸̞̤̰̞͙͕͗̎̆̍́͌͊ŕ̸̲͊e̵̦̿̐͗̃͆̈́̆s̷͔͇̝͖̜̹̯̃̿̀̈́̎̈́ͅu̴̱̼̥̹̔̊̾͆̂̆̕l̷̢̫͖̜͍̍̊̆̔̔̓͜͠t̶̫̉̌̽͌̊̆̓e̸̢͚̭̩͆͒̄d̷̹̟͓͙̠̼̺͆̇͆̕ ̷̼̹̬̋i̶̛̎͑͑̈́̚͜͠n̴̡̞͐̾͝ ̴̘͛̑m̶̪͔͙̈́̀̇̊͐o̴̺̗̘͝ͅr̸̥̫̬̞̩̈́͌́̈́̈́͆ė̴͙̰̩̪̋͒͛͝ ̸̺̞͖̬̪͕̃̂ć̷̛͚͇͚̾̓͘͝ḧ̵̢̖͖͍͚́̍i̸̢̮͕̫̼̙̎̊͒̏̑͋̅͝l̷̛̺̻̪̬͋̈̽͐͒̚d̸̳̰̹͖̒́r̵̡͕͓̩͕̫̻͋̐̉̈́̚͠ȅ̴̠͈̠̞̥̓̈́̚̚n̷͈͔̻̦̔̔̒͝,̸̛̮͕͉̬̱̲͑̔̕ ̸̨͙̼̣͖͎͇͕́̿b̵̦͖̻̞͕̞̽̑͌̑͊́͑u̸͙͈̔̔̅́t̷̼̰̦̰̐̌͋͌̒͑ ̴̗̪̬͉̤̪͎̹͠ǟ̸̢̻̘̇̅l̵̡͎̦͖̉̑̂̋̂s̵̛̛͚͔͔̈́͠͝ő̶̜͉̯̬͈̀ ̴̘͖̮̥͎̑̑̾͗͑̈́m̴̥͚̝͍̠̀͒̈̇̈́͜ͅȍ̵̹̇̀̾͐͠ŕ̸̢̡̨̬̜̫͇̥̆͗e̴̢̧̠͚̗̤̜͗̔͆͘ ̸̹̬̚r̵̡͎͒͆̿̋͘̕͝͝ư̵̜̿͛̋̒͛͗̌m̴̡̳͈̠̐͛̈́̈͗̕̚ọ̸̹̖̞͋̇̄u̴̜͖͎͛̈́̀͘r̷͍͔̼̼̗͕̎̈̔̈́s̶̯̲͖̆ ̴̩̖̟̙̺͓͗̎͒̎̍̐͝ͅͅo̷̭͋̐͂̑f̷̡̯̄͑́̓͑̕͝ ̶̝̞̳̈́͂͋̄̈̀̑͊ö̶̥̗̦͙̔͝ủ̵̢͓̪͊̐̍͗̽́̚ͅṙ̷̞̬͉͙̟̲́̓͌͘ ̸͈̆p̴̗͖͈͖̫͑͌̈́͆͐͠e̵̛͍͓͌̕ͅr̸̡̢̨̛͙͙̭͖̬s̶͔̎̉́̃̄͒i̸̞̟̤̝̠̤͌̽͑͌̽̚̚͜s̷̭͈̦͕̘̼̙̿͗͗̚t̴͙̗̦̃̂̅͝ĕ̸̡̢̞͖͙̱͑̊̋̀̕n̸̮͉͙̦͎̖̊́̊c̵̮̤͓̱̜͋̊̎͝e̴̬̭̺̾̄̈̽͊͌̕̕.̵̢̋̑͗͆͘ ̶̢͙͇͈̝͈̇͊͆̚ͅY̸̜̌̀e̵̲̟͍͈̼̓̽̌͊t̸̥́̊͒̇͝ ̶͔̮͔̎n̵̘͊̚o̸͎̣͖͙̞̥̜̎n̴̬͑̓͆e̴̤͇̽́̌͊̆̚ ̵̛̛̺̙͛̌̈́͛͜h̵̪̻̏̑̈́ã̴̼̤͓̑͐́̋͝v̸̧̛̟̘͖̘̈́e̸̡̦̼̪͕̬̩̯̊͌̈́̍͌̾̉ ̴̱̩̫͙̻̋̽͗̀͛c̸̢̼̭̻̺̪͖̖̒̌ǫ̶̫̳̪̖̼̜̐̃̚͠m̷͇̭̘͚̫͋̉͒e̵̝̦̹͔͉̯̘̋̄̚ͅ ̷̡̧̖̟̻̞͖̹̇̈́̑f̷̟̝͙̰̘͛̀̀̂͑o̴͖̪͙͚̹̞̩͌̒͌͛̂̓̚r̷͈̪̍ ̸̹̤̪͇̭̱̌̃͠u̶̯̘̬͑̉̀̉̃͊̉̕s̸͙͔̠̳̀.̸̪̭̜̖͈̙̊̑̓”̷͔͈̳̮͇̠͎̹̌̏̈
“So now you’d like to tempt fate?”
“̵̤̳͈̺̞̊̓N̸̫͉̍̓̏͝͝o̶̞̘̞̳̠̗̽͑́̈́̇͆ẅ̵̪̥͓̹̘̚͜ ̴̡͓̘͔̻̫̖̾̈́̋͠I̷̢̓̌͋ ̸̨̣̺͖̠͎͐́w̷̮̥͓̤̼̗̌ͅo̶̟̯̿̊͒̃̂͂̕̕ū̴̧̮͚͓͜l̴̹̭̔͐̇͗̄͒͜͝͠d̸͖͕̘̱̊̊̎̈̔ ̷͓̊̽b̵͍̤̰͕̬͓̫͈̒̌̆̽̕͝ë̵̛̲͙͚͕͉́̿́̂g̴͍̱̻̎͋̊͗̀̀͆̆ͅị̶̗̩̥̬̰̭̹̋̈́n̷̙͓̫͓̞̞̬̽̂̅̎͒̓͝ ̸͍̣̩̭̿̂̾̊̓b̸̬͈͖̟̭̃̽̈u̷͚̪̓͒̍̕į̸̼̩̺̥͆͆̐ͅl̸̔̓͜d̵͇̭̆i̴̼͕̗̎͆̕n̸̫͛͗͛̍̅g̷̮̹͖͔̺̏͐͆ ̸̫̺̅͛̌̏̏m̶̯͎̙͊ỳ̶̤̔̉͗̀̚͝ ̸̨̗̯́̀̍͐ǫ̷͇̝̥̱̠͓̏̐w̶͍̬͍̺̗̬̙̄̽́̅̈́̅̒͝ͅṉ̴̳̺͕͈͚͔̲͆̌̌̾͝ ̶̡̠́͌͊̈́̾̉̓ǎ̸̧̧͕͓͎̅͗̓́͘̕͜ṙ̷͙͖̂̋̃̇͆̅͘m̵̨̹̳̪͙͒̀̋͂̇͐͊͜y̶̢̙̬̻̼̝̔̊̄̌.̵̤̩̒̐̂̄͘ͅ ̸͉̘̳͍̠̗́̈́̑̆̃͋͌̉W̶̘̰̅̀̃͝ȩ̷̙͎̺̼̗̀͛ ̷̭͛͗͑͘w̴̨̨̨͓̼͓̟̌̆̒̈́̔͝i̶̫̟̫̽͒̌̀͒̓͂̔ͅl̶̤͎̾ͅl̸̲̋̎̀́͑̄̄̋ͅ ̶͉̘̤̇̒̚ņ̶̛̠̤̊̒̓̌̔̀͠ọ̷̪̩̦̬̓̇́̈́̎̆̇͝t̷̽̑ͅ ̶̧̲̜͍̜̲̳͑̓͂r̵͈͖̖̭̝̤̺͎̅̔̾͘ę̸̢̛̯̗̰͗̌̒̿̚m̸̡͎͈͇̙̓͌̉a̷̢͎̦͓̱̝͒̍̏̑̑̚͝i̶̜̗͈̖̜͆̄̂̍̐̒͠͝ņ̸̛̛͙̻͉̲̝͜ ̸̟͚͗͘͝ṡ̶̲̙̭̀͐̊̇̀̔͝h̴͚͍͂̓͒̎̓̕͘͠e̵͙̿̆̎̇̑̕̚̕ͅḽ̸͋̌t̷̖̫̂̇̊̒͂̌̊̍ȩ̵̘̣͆̐̈̚r̶͉̫̺̩͖̫͊͂̇͊͊̏̾e̶̪̾̄̈́͂̓d̸̛̗̮̻͙̣̳̩ ̴̢͇̎͌̈́̅͌f̵̧̗̦̠͇̈́̓͗̀̿́́o̸̳̪̦͗̎̈́̎̂̓͘͜͠ͅŗ̴̭̬̻̩́̑̈́͊ē̸̡̻͕v̸̺͓͇͖̈͐͑̿̀̚e̵͓̺̟͇̹̒͆͒r̶̺̀́̀̍̃͊̅.̷̧̨̗̩̮͇̒ͅ ̸̧̬̒͋̈̀͛̈́͛ͅͅŞ̶̯͔͚̰̍́͂͑ô̴̡̢͇͍̘̝̩͓̌̈̚͝m̶̢̻̱̳̞̃̑͝e̴̪̳̝̣͓͋̓͗̃͠ơ̶͓̰͕͎̲̭͙̋̍̊̂͛͋ͅn̵̟̜̈̊̿e̶̮̥̩̬̥̲̖̓̐͑̄͌̓ ̴̫̬̱̐͌͒̈́͝ͅw̶̤̙͉̆͆̊ï̵̙̙̓͊͗̚̕l̴̥̪̹̐̈̑͋̐l̶͉͎̞͇̙̎̐̊͂̏̐͘͠ ̴̧̧̞͇̰̯̪̓͛͐̈́ͅc̷̹̫̗̔̃̊͑̈́̀̂͘ǫ̶̊̉͐̌̍͗̚ṃ̸̠̦̑̇ê̵̝̎̒͗͒͒͐ ̸̢͉͍͓͔̳̝̾̉ͅh̴̛͓̙̒̈́̌̄͊ű̴̡̩͑̌̊͗n̴̨̠̥̠̮̠͖̠͋͒t̷̖̺̱̭̒į̴̣̦̦̗̐̓̐͐̕͝ṉ̷́̒ǧ̸͙̖͎̦͝ ̵̘͕̯͖͗̈͒̇͂́͘s̶͍̠̪̹̬̠͘͝͠ơ̵̧͓͎͕̪͗̀̋̈́̇͆̓m̷̢̯̺̹̖̑̍e̸̢͓͈̰̋̑̈́͝d̵͈̲͇͎̯̅̓̉͛̚͘͜ä̵̖̤͈̭͚̟̭́̎̋̋̕ͅy̶̼̑̌͋̏̀̌͛͜ͅ,̶̫̤̭̱̗̝̗̝̔͆̈̌ ̷̝̖̬̠̙̈́̀̓́ä̷̺̺̰̥́̓n̵̮͙̤͙͍͔̝̩͛́͑̔̏̄͋ḑ̸̡͈̿̽ ̴̨̛̿̏̅͛͝w̵̛͍̍̃̎̓ę̵̟̂̐̓͑ ̴͙̩̿̊̑m̵̧̨̰̰͚̦̥͚̉̆u̶͖̲̬̅̇͌̂́̆̉͘s̷̢̗̲̈́̇̊̓̉͠t̴̡͕̭̹̱̮̬̼̋͂̋̊͑̑͐̐ ̸̜̳̗͉̜̪͍͚̽̐̔̒ḅ̶̫͉̯͔̻͌e̵̘͗̿̅̒ ̵̞̬̮̥̻̺̥̑̐p̴͙̻̦̮̽r̸̘̜̼̗̖̲̀̋̏̔̚è̷͔̬̩̣͉p̷̧͎͆͑̍̓̋̕͝ā̸̜͙͕͍͕̟̬̯̑̉͌͆̀̚͠r̵̤̼̙̓ĕ̷̲͖̬͙̹͓̳̩d̵̰̺͖̫͚͌ͅ.̵̧͇͚̭̃̈́̀̀͐͘̚͝ ̷̧̬͔̼̼̆̏W̵̧̠̮̮̱̩̱̿̓̓͋́̃̎̚͜e̸̻̣͌͐̀̔͛̔͠ͅ ̸̯̥̦͚̻̀m̷͓̐͆͝u̸̡̮͙̙̲̺͖̿̋̔͋̍̕s̸̳̱̳͉͘t̷̗̮͌ ̵̨̨̟͚̘͑́h̷̨̨͖̹̭̯̿͐ä̵̲̲̘̺̰́͛̉v̶̮͚̼̠̯͛̾̏̇͐͗͜ě̸̢̾́̃͘ ̶̹͕͓̲̿͆̏̅̓̈́̈̚ȃ̸̧̮̩̹̹̣͕̯́͛̎̋̚n̷͉̂̃͛̈́̀ ̷̧̼̥̀́̈́̃͠͝ą̷̬̇́͂͋̉͌͝r̷̥̩̩͒̑͗m̸͍͉̺͚̻̮̪͑̿̓̀͗ͅy̷̙͙͍͑̽̔͐͐͂̓̒ ̶̢̳͈̋͒̀́̈͘͜͝o̷͓̲̯͓̖̪͈͗̂f̷̻͈̥̱̀̎͂̒͊ ̵̻͕̝͖̝̦̭͊̓̽͂̈́͝ͅõ̷̧̩̜̼͔̫̅̎̊̈̒̿͛͜u̸̢̞̝̫̦̳̤̺͆͝͠r̷͍̽͑͒́͝ ̴̧̨̛̥̻̱̩͐͆̌̃̓͝ͅö̶̡͖̙̪̣̖̯̲w̷̥̓͑͝ń̴͚͈͔̬̝͍͎̇̏̊̈̚͜.̵̨̱͉͙̭͖̈́̎̆́̑̕͝”̸̝̼̰̀̋͆͑̋́͝
“Then make your own! You don’t need to send me out to do it.”
Diamis’ five central heads slithered down from on high, breaking around the high back of the throne and sidling up cheek to cheek a scant foot before Yasha’s face. The acrid stench of old, rotted meat perfumed the air around her.
“̸̥̹̱̊̒͒̎̑̕W̸̥̄͛̊ḭ̴̦̮̼͈̃̽͑̔̇̀̏ť̴͙͚̤̇͗͝ḫ̷̳̪̻͍̃̀͘͠͝ ̷̨̛̬̍̈̋́ẅ̶̡̯̭̙͚͇͔̤͌̎h̴͙͎͖̭̮̫͖̍͐̌ǎ̶̤̩̰͔̐͆͗t̶͇̝̥͙̟̤̐̌̽̅ ̴̝̖̰̌̈̚ͅm̸̨̦̟̺̙̪͇̃̓̈̈̆͝ã̴̡͓̮̙̤͆͗͆͛t̴̟͎͕̀̅̕͝e̸̗̹̞̼͍̩̹̮͌̋̓?̸̢̢̛͉̪̰̘̐̏̀̇͒”̶̧̹͎̰̈́̓
“Then go out and get one of the ones you’ve used before,” Yasha snapped, irritation making her words ring off the high walls.
“̶̨̨͉̼̪͇͇̄̊̇́͌̿͝T̷̡̧͕̠͕̺̩͗̑h̵͖̱̻̥̮̩̏̀͑̒͒͠ė̴̛̩̙̩̑͋̈́͘͝ȳ̸̘̟̫̖̥͔͈͊͐̽ ̸̮̜̦͑̽̀͝ļ̷̥̙͉̓̽͂͒̀͗̐a̶̢̜̟̝͇̗̕͜c̵̬̜̼̺͉̞̆̂͊̀̃k̵̠̖̻̜͚̤̅͜ͅ ̵̙̳̤̫̲̘͊ͅţ̶̥́̎̋̇h̴̛̰̮̼̙̘̫̏͂̏̿̈́̊͝e̸͙̭͙̔̀͗͑̍̓̇͝ ̶̨̤̔͆̆p̵͉̮̜̲̤̍̌̇̅̉͐̅ŗ̸́͝͝ͅo̶̧̝̲̝̯̼͛c̵̛̭̊̿̐r̵̖͕̺̩̩͉̈́̉̀͋͊̒̔͛e̶̖̞̼͔̫̝̅͛̇̎̀a̵̤̳̝̖̾̇̆̈́̒͒̿̏͜ẗ̸̝̦͙̼̳́̀͋́̃̃͐i̷͖̯̟̞̿̑́̀̀̍̽͘v̵̢͚͈̀̄̚è̵͎̫̪̤̺̑̎̇̎ ̷̨̛͉̦͍̬̦̩͉̌͋̔͌̇͐͝d̵̖̪̗̭̍̊̌͋͝ȑ̸̡̺̲͚̜͆̽͑͝í̸̢̩̥̓̏͆͜v̵͖̮̞͕͗e̵̢̠̲͔̥̱̋̈́̃̈͝ ̴̧̡̧̖̯̣̓̃͑̀̈́̐̕ͅt̷̡͍̠̞͔͈̓̐͑̿̓̀̎͘ͅh̶̰̝́̈̊̐̾̌͜a̸̦̮̮̻̣̰̬̟͒̎͘͠ţ̴̡̬͕̹̮̮̿͗́̑̈͗͝ ̴̬͒̎͆̈̚I̷̩̘̝͇͗̀̆̽ ̵̡̮̯̤̹̪̣͊͌̌̐̌̉͑̃n̵͉̥̙̰̐̑͗̂͘͜ȅ̵̞̝̖͉̌̌̀̈́ë̷̡̡͚̫͆̾͗́̈́̆̉d̷̯͎̟͎̃̆.̴̪͑ ̶̡̥̤̼̙̠͝A̴̺͍͔͆ ̴̡̼̯͎̩̿̏̐̓f̴̛̻̹̰͍̦̪͋͜͠e̷̞͔̖͚̭̩̾̇͜w̵͕̩͗̂̿ ̴̪̫̪͕̱͛̏̕ͅd̷͓͙̲̳̯͂̊̌̕͝o̸̺̼͉͔͙̾̀̀̍ͅz̶̮͚̦͇̺̘͑̅e̸͕͐̈́͐̈́̈́̕͝n̵͉̠̽̉̽͐͋̈́͘͘ ̵̖̤͚͕̩̊̐ë̷̛͓̮̣̗̣́͐̊̐͝ģ̴̛̙̠͋́̇̈́̆͝g̴̮̿̎͂́̊ś̶͇͔̥͚̥̘̈́̃̕͠ ̸̢̢̯̲͖͈͛̋ț̴̡̒͂̔̉ͅh̴̪͑̈́̋͌ͅa̷̛͚̩̼̻̮̩̰̓̉̐̑̂͝t̵͍͙̭̙̱̃̒̿̈́̉͑̋ ̴̪̻̞̼̭̤̘̬́̀p̷̨̹̺̞̯̖͛̔͌͆̓̈͊ȑ̶̞͙̯̖̜̞̺̌̂͛̈́̕͝ͅö̵̧̧̯̗̮̥̭͇́̋̆d̶̢͕͈̱̥̔̈́͘u̴̢͖̤͍̖̩̘͎͆͊̀̎͆c̴̡̮̳͎̺̓͂̎͊̆̾ȅ̶̜͉́̂̂̿ ̶͈̹̏̃̔̃͗̓͜͝ͅl̵̲͊̀̽̋̓̊ȩ̷̱̹͎͎͉̎̈́͌͋̒̊̋̌s̵̛͕̬͕̳͋͒̑́͒́s̷͎̮̰̐̀̌ ̷̛͓̅̈́͒̑̕͝t̶̼̳͗̈͘h̵̲͕͈̰̟͈͇͛̒͝a̷̹̗̋̈́̌͐̾̈́͗n̸̳͍̤͔̾̈́̽̂͌̋ ̶̻̼̤̥͎̦̣͍̍̏ḁ̶̩͖͙͎̤̤͗̃̃̔͂ ̷͓̥̥̰̺̌̑͐͘͘͠ḩ̵̫̯͓̺̳͔͘͝ȧ̴̧̡̖̟̻͇̬͙̈́̆̄͝n̵̞͉̼̬̳͗d̸̢̡̡͓̹̟̗͂̽̋͜f̵̧̛͙͕̆̓̍̊͊̓ù̵̡̈̏̈l̴̢͇̦͈̲͇̫̖̆̐̆͝ ̷̞̺̑̏̆̆ó̸̢̖̈́̓̏͠f̷̨̲̯̙͕̼̜̓ ̸̘̳̌̓v̶̟͈̭̟̼͓̱̑́͛́̊i̸̘̺̼̝̝͔̅͊̅̂̿̌ä̸̲̺̭̯̯̱́̈́̊͠b̶̡̲͙̪̐͠l̷̨͍̫̙̞̣̩̈́̄̎̌̾̋̿e̷̛͍̥̊͌̓̆̆͆ ̶̛̪̘͔̒̓̎̕o̶͍̰̊̌̋͂͋̇f̸͓̱̩̈́f̶̢̡̘̩͔͌̊͐̅s̵̢͓͓̪͌̽̒ṕ̵̨̨̯̤̘̱̚͜r̴̙̼͍̪͌͘͝i̴̪̦̟̿͆̐͘n̵̜̲̜̦̠̽͗̃̾̎͑͊g̵̲̤͆̐̇̒̑͝,̷̪̗̗͉̗̼͕̌͂͠ ̷͍̫͉͓͚̠̭͐̀͗w̸̧̰̺͉͕̄́̏̇̑̇̇̚͜h̴̖̺͔̰̠̓̏́̓̆o̵̻̫̞̳̅ ̷͚̳̹͕͆̃͌͂̓͠ṱ̷̏͋̈́̾ḣ̶̀͜ẹ̴̙̗̝̔̇̎͊̽n̴̳͎̭̫̣͈̽̾̈́̈̇͑͘͠ ̷̖͍̯̠̘͗͆̏͆̍̚t̷͖̩̉͐͝͝a̶̫͖̰̙͆k̶̯̰͓̺̎̇ẽ̷̗̫̘̫͌̆ ̷̱͇̐̈́͊̈́͋́̈́͐c̷̯̼̀̈́̇̓͋̚ę̸̤͍̲̩͔̩̒͛̃̾̂ń̴͍̺̳̋t̵̡͙̘͉͕̗̺͂̏ȕ̸͇̭̙̩̬͋̐̇ŗ̴̧̨̭̟̒͐̔i̴̧̯͍̞̭̜̝̣̅è̵͔̥̼͑̆͝s̷̟̮̐̄͋̄̇͘ ̶̢̞̹̝̼̻͙̇͂͑̈́̚͜t̴̡͉̳̞̏̑̑̅̀̋͊ŏ̶̡̱̻̪̯̉͠ ̶̧̩͈͎͔̬̝̓g̸̛̠̣͉͊̈͛r̵͇̖̺̯͎͍̤͈̆o̷̠̽́̈́͋̾̌̋̈́w̷̱̣̥̭̬̓̃̓̄͋̾͜͝ ̴̡̳̣̯͆̓́̃̕t̵̛̹̬̜̻̯̊o̵̢̗̩̦̜̭̟̓̆̋͛̇͊̓ ̶̢̯̫͛̒͒̄ḿ̵̲̻̤̄͌͐́̅̃͒a̸̯̫͖̜̲͂ţ̷̞̳̥̦̖̣̮̈́͑̌͂̅u̵̢̩̳̟͔͓̺͗ŕ̴̙̭̺̿ì̷̥̮̣͕̾̆̑͋̾͠t̴̝͔̭͖͙̠̤̓͜y̸̪̥̤͛̄̅͐̓̌̋̚,̴̧͇̹͙̓ ̷͓̹̀̍̕̚ḯ̸̱̙̾͝s̶̹̮̘̬͌̒͑͒͜͜ ̸̞͔̯̪̱͊̄͆͋̀ͅͅn̸̡͕̺̘̙̲͕̟̔̌̑ọ̵̡̦͗̔̄̏t̸̨̛̘̻̻̲͕̀͑̀̀̚͠ ̴̛̙̳̰̯̣͇̔̽ȩ̴̹̭̹̖̣̞͙̀͊̂̏̎͒͘n̶͎͗͑̈́̔̒̚ó̷̢̺̯̑͋ͅu̸̞̭̒̔̌̒͗́̅̋g̴̤̓̋͑̇h̷̡̥̤̳̣̣̗̭̉̂͠͝.̴̲͇͒̏͘͘͝͝͝ ̴̡̧̤͚̬͒̑͜Ň̷͔̖͇̈́̋̏̓o̷̻̞̪͗́,̷͓̯̲͑̌̿̏̈̎̋̚ ̸̧̥̗̣̯̏̀̈́I̷̲̍̇ ̸̛̖̠͙̭̩̹͒̽́̇̕͜͜͝n̸̪͉̱̈́̈́̌̂̂ȅ̵͓̞e̶̖͕̣̟̯̾̃d̶̻̔̒̿̐̅̾ ̴͎̭͚̏̔͌s̶̮̣̀̊̾̿̚͝͝o̸̰̦̦̟͇͊͘m̸̡̢̢͓̤͎̃̚͜e̵̬̟͚̥͑͂̌͛̄ț̸̡̝͕͊͐͗̐̎̓̃́ḩ̸͚̫͓͍͚̟̭̀̾̓͐͊̈́͗͠í̸̮̇̾̓͘ͅn̷̻̜̰̉̄̽̏̿̆̿͜g̶͍̪̟͕͓̬̃̒̚͘ ̷̨̬̰̞̖̫̥̜̓̓͌̀̽̄t̴̞̰̓̅̂h̵̥͂̐ą̴̡͖̤̟͕̃̃̄t̵̟̘̲͔̭̣̯̰͋̔̈́̈́͝ ̵̣̥̿̾̿w̸̡̡̗̗̟̞͔̌i̷̧̲̬͈̗̭̗͒̾̀͘͘ľ̷̨̞͚̤̪̗̎͒̇̃̄l̴̡̙̼̯̣̞̈́̾̈͆̋̃̔̈́ͅͅ ̷͍͉̓͊͂̄͝g̴͙͉͉͚̯̐̈́̐i̶͕̥̼̓v̷̛̦̤͌̐̃͝͝e̵͎͉̘̪̓͠ ̶͓̾͛̐̚͜͠m̴̛̮͖̱͉̫͑́ë̷͎̬͋ ̸̘̙̝̦̪̔͗̀̄̎̅͝w̸̺̙̪̜̣̩̣͑̓a̴̧̡̰̞͘͘͝r̷̫͍̜̄̀́̄̉̆̑́r̸̝̜͔̰͚̞̙̆̋ỉ̵̠͚̎̓o̷̡͚̻̺̤͍̎r̵̨̞̩͓̝̯̣̂̈́͠s̴̖̟̮͇͍̻͋̇͒̍͜ ̵̼̖̟̯̻͒̄̏͝ń̸̘̺̝̫͔͇̝ó̷̞͙̼͖̥̮̭̑̐̏͝w̴̡̡̜̲͓̠̫̅ͅ.̵̠̼̫͕͚͌͂͘ ̵͇̐̓̈́͛̐͂̕Ţ̴̣͂̑̅o̶̦͓̬͍̫̞͐̈́͛̀̔d̵̼͉̳͉̥̗̼͌͐̈́̌͗͝a̸̪͑͑̐̓͛̂y̷̭̰̓.̴̣̜̥̱͚͕̏̅͐̄͊͜”̴̳̤̘̟̞͚͋́́
“And what if they’re weak?”
“̵̥͓͍͖͑̾T̴̪̤̘̼̝̩̻̭͂͌͑́̎̀̿̕h̸̪̳̹̺̳͚̤̍͊͐̈́́ẹ̵̄̈̏̕n̴̼͖̘̼̖͑̾́̑̈́̋̑͜ ̴̨̟̠̺͚̲̘̏͋̆̔͂̏ẁ̵̛̖̤̹̣̻͆̈́̈̓̌́e̵̢̢͖̙̬̫̭̎͘ ̴͓̮͙̩̼̘͈̯̌̋̎̓͋̌͝ẃ̷̼͇̦̠͉̻͝i̴̖̘̫̖̇̋ļ̸̢͍̤͈̼́̆l̵̳̫̤̖̽͜ ̵̧̛́̾͆̀͐͋̓f̴͕̣̹̜̳͌͆͋e̶̞͉̜͈̗̠͕̔̓̍̓͜ę̴̧̩̗̪͔͑̿̉̀̿d̵̡̬̥͓̫̙͚͂̇̈͜.̶̺͙͔̘̙̥̽̾́̅ ̵̺̝̗͇̩͎͊̈́͋́̿͛A̴̧̳̻̹̜͔͈̍͆̔ņ̴̛̻̱̰̣͋̃͊̈́̈͜d̴̛̙̮̮̰͇͙͐͒̎͘ ̵͖̲̻̦̠̮̻͒̊̇͝t̵̤̟̠͂͒̆́̊͘͝h̸̘̫̺̜͈̋ȩ̵̢̜̭̔́̂́͊̒͘͘ṅ̷͍ ̷̬̲͈̱̐͛̾̇͛̒̕ẁ̸̧̥̺͓͓͎̳̉̂͝e̸̛̛̠̪̩̍̀͌̓͛͜ͅ ̶̧̗̰̬̳͇͓̏w̵̲͇̽̽̆̽̆̋̎͊ḯ̵̧̻͚̋̎͠l̷̢̳͉̹͚̆̌̚͘l̶̗͌ ̸͚͖̀̓͛͂͗͝ť̸̜̙̻̞̓͜r̶͈̜̭͙͙̀̇́̔͌y̵̧̮͔͌̌̒͐̒̏ ̸̢̝͉̹̟͕̫̽̓̑̽̊͘ͅą̷̪̘͔͔͍̹͆̓̚g̷̫̀́̉̈́̾͛a̵̰̼̱̯̫̳̅̆̏̈́͠͝ȉ̷̢̖̫͙̼͌ͅņ̷̫̝̥̬̜͍̘͂̿̏̒̿̽.̷̱͒”̷̤͙̱̓̑͐́̂͊
Yasha scoffed in disgust. Try as she might, she could not bend Diamis’ will once the hydra had made a decision.
“Then send your daughter,” Yasha retorted, grasping at any solution that would not have her risking her own neck. “She can collect them for you.”
“̴̨̧͔͎̄̈́̉̏͜͝S̷̡̟̭̖̮̫̀̈́̑̚h̶̪̤̠̅̂̊̾͝ě̶̫͐ͅ ̶̨̬̠͊̀́͒͆͠i̴̢̲̠̗̞̍̂̾̍͒͋̚ͅŝ̸̜̣̺͇̔̿ͅ ̷̛̝̺̪̪̲̭̟͕̏͋̓̓͐n̴̨̛̩̮͖͋̓̂͑̀́͠ö̸̢̮̩͙͎̟̩̇͛̋̚͠ṯ̸̫̜͒̿͂̈́͑ ̶̲̱̟̬͓̻̅̉̓̃̀͘̕ͅb̴̧̹̉͒ó̸̢̝̠̮̺̗͚̮n̴͎̹̊̎͜d̴̡̯̯̯͊̽ȇ̷̱̠͇d̴̺̣͍͉͛̿̀̓͋ ̵̖̰̺̻̙̻̳͒̆̍͗̿̉͘̕ͅt̴̖͔̻̗̫̮̠̮̑̔̑o̷̡̗̪̟͚̩͓̍͆͒͘̕ͅ ̶͙̚m̸̺̜̾̈̋̄͐̋̕ȩ̶̬̘͇̑̿͌.̸̻̅ ̷̨̧̛̦͕̩̝̠͔̊̀̑́̐̚͠Y̴̙̟͕̟̙̆̆͌̅̾͗̕ö̷̢̠̺̫̲̜́̓̅̆͜͝u̵̻̖̘̰̥̱͐͐́̆̕͘͜͜͝ ̵͖̈́̈͐͝͝a̵̧̡͈̣͉̹͊͌́̂́̏̽̈͜r̶̡̛̺͓̘̼͇̈́͝ḙ̷͔̙̝͓̅̌̕.̸̘͖̙͖̺̈́̂̔̐̈́͜ ̴̨̛̩̬̎͆Y̴͚̱̯͍̠̌͋͒͒o̸̘̦̪͗̄͘û̶̳͓͕̖ ̵̤̯͚̼̀̈́̓̑͐͛w̷̡͉̠͍̻̤̏̈́͂̓̄ͅi̵͖̬̟̮͖͒̽̈́͝l̶̳̹͎̄̎́̌͑l̶̤̠̳͋̔͒̅̇̐͝͠ ̷̨̛̜̠͓̲̤̫̭b̷̹̤͚͇̯̤̎̃͂̉͐ȑ̷̡̧͔͚̬̜͖̋̾̚͜i̷̖͔͔͔̯̒͛̒͗͐̚n̵͇̼̝͍͙͍̂̀̕g̵̠̉̃͘ ̸̡̖̥̜̘̻͉̄͊̌͛̂͂̆͠ͅt̶̙͓̂̌̒ḩ̴̟̬̟̝͔́ȅ̴̯̯̻̩͂́͛̀̔͗͝ ̶̨̗͖͕͂ẗ̴̜̆͆̀͝h̸̙͋͛r̸̢̛̩̳̗͇̹̮̉̒̆̎̀̕͜͠ē̶͚̅͂́̍̈́a̸̢͇̲͍̭͇͗͆̀͑̚͜d̸̟̖͕̝͈̩̓̄ ̴̙̜̞͇̔ȏ̷̥̰͂̇͠f̷̧͇͖̼̜̱̤̄̂ ̶̤̳̤̀͊̆̾̂̆̈̍m̴̛̳͒͋y̸̜͕̦̜̥͋̂̓̚ ̵̟͚͖͍̱̋̌̀̿̚͘͝b̷̧̯̙̠̱̼̈́̇͐͒̈́͠ͅȩ̷̮̼̟̼̣̪̌̊̐̀̈́̒̐͝ͅi̴̻͈̩͖̣͍̘̐͑͘͝n̸̤͖̲̣̜̒͗͛̈́͝͝͠g̷̡̡̼̻͔̟̮̃ ̵̥̋̒̒̈́͝ȧ̵̗̘̻͖̚͝c̵̱̻̅͜r̷̢͙̤̞͙̞̘̎̀̔o̴̘͔̮̠̱͙̒̌͘͠s̷̟͓̝̐͘s̶̛̪̄̌̽̐̀͊ ̷̬̬̮͛͜͠t̸͓̻̊̈́̅̔̏̈́h̵͔̰͋̀̿̽̓̈̑̿ͅe̷͚̰̞̦̜͆͗͂̓͗̄ ̶̫͗̓̽ẃ̵͓̖̘̚͜ó̶̦͎̥̈ŗ̵̛̫͂̑̇́͆͛͝ĺ̸͓̝̰̠͚̀ͅͅḑ̸̰̬̳͖̳͓̺̆ś̷̢̛̻̯̙̮̉͑̂̈́̚̚ ̸̧̤̝̬̠̅̀̿̇͊͘͝t̷̠̬̅̉̔̐͐̊̕ͅǫ̵̳̇ ̷̛̻͑͐͊͌̍̈́͐ț̸̛͋̾̃ẖ̴̢̬̜̒ē̷̦̬̖͕̒͆͐̑̿s̶̪͇̠̞͓͔̍̐͊͋̄͘e̵̠̤̪̩͕̊͋̒́̍́̀ ̵̗̆͋̉̆̉͋͝͠c̶̻̹͓̰̆͂r̴͚̬̹̫͉̃͑̽̓̈́̀ͅe̷̡̟̋̅a̵͚͓͖͆̐t̵͎̣͖̪̲͚̪̓̆̑̄̇̔ͅů̸̢̥̤̻̪͕ͅr̷̲̠͙̗͛̂e̴̢͕̙̺͔̣̟̓̆̽̆s̷̯͖̳̜̪͇͈̫͛.̷̼̙̒̎͝ ̵̢̦̻̣͝ͅW̴̩̭̻͆ḧ̶̞̃͐̒̉̄͘͠e̸̳̙͓̔͑̂t̷̳͔̍̓͊͐̌̒̿͠h̴̪̟̹̾́̄̃̀̌ě̷͙̺̿̽̀̉̃r̶̨͚̥̭͛̈́̓̿̎̀ ̴̱̮̹͔̀͑̄̍͜t̷̝̪̘́̃̑͂̚͠ḩ̴̮̋̅̑̽̕ė̸̱͍̖̬̗̬̗̌y̸͙̖̹̖͉̒̈́͘ͅ ̸̻͍̭̯̥̒́̈́̂̇b̶̧̛̟͙̜͚̩̐͂̀̅͠ͅợ̴̝̞̼͚͍͗̒͌̾̾͛͘n̸̰͕͕̜̋̋͆̕̕d̵̙̫̏̈́̒̐͑͋ ̶̰͈̩͉͋͠y̵̰͎̪̳͑̔ȍ̸̺͈͇̜̟̹͍͍̓͊̊̍ǘ̶̳̈́̄̄ ̵̪̂͂͊͒͒͂ó̶͖͖r̸̛̝͓͉̤̓́̍͐̚͝ ̵͕̚w̷̨̠͊́̾͠ä̶̱̩̲͍̭̲́͊͒͐ȉ̸̥̲̼̒̔͆͜ţ̸̙̼̊͒͗̈́̀ ̵̩̘̻̥͖̦̟̑̔̒͛͋̑̓͘t̷̡͉̩̖̍͛̄̑̈́̓ǒ̵̡̞̳̫̟͓̊̈́̅̈̀̑̚ ̵̧̛̻͍̻̌b̷̟̞̆̈́́̔́̔̋̀ë̸͖̤̞̭̬̜̬̰́ ̴̡͖̟̰̠̼̋̍̀̑̕͜ͅr̷̢̮̀̓̾̈́͝e̷̲̥̼̔̑͐́̅͘͘͝t̴̡̤̅̐͗͑͛̅͊u̴̫̯͚̝̞͍͖̤͑͛̈́̈́r̴͖̣̩͚̣̐̒͜n̸̗̠͇̰̯̿e̶̛̘̲̘͍͗͒́͑d̵̨͉̼͖̭̓̐͝ ̸͇̩̻̔͂̑͛͐̇͠ť̴͓͍ơ̵̧̥͙̙̈́̃͂ ̴̡̰̖͇͔̱̓̈͑͑̀̎͑͠ͅm̵̮̹̜̤̥̋͝͝é̸̳͑͛͠ ̴͔̼̣͇͉͈͎̣̽̿̀̊̓̉̕î̷̞̳̀̂̚͜s̵͚̬̘͙̦̞̭͑̃́͆͠͝ ̶̢̘̗̆̏̉͒̽ï̶̝̞̻͓̞̐͐̕ḿ̵̯͍͉͓̖̪͚̻̒͝m̴̞̠̘͆̀̈́ã̸̠͖͔̮̔̏̓t̸̡͓͒͒e̴̘͈͇̝̫͎͕͍̿̔͠r̶̯̦̲̣̞̤̝̅̽̐͒̎͝ͅį̷̛̠̟̏͋̓̂͝͝ą̶̬̭̻̑̃͐͊̍̈̃̕l̴̡͕͙̬̩̝̬͓̈.̸̛̟͕̞̗̦̜̓ ̵̡̧̱͈̺͈͒̽͂͌͊̈͂̔͜͜Ī̶̪̖̪̥̊̽̒͗̏ͅ ̵̠̼͙͜͝ͅẘ̴̩̞͍̣̈́͜͠ͅį̷̦̖̟̙̈́̑̑̈́̋l̷̢̢̮̯̅̀̂͝l̴̙͖͗̿ ̴̣͇̜͚̪̻̇̕m̶̨̛̯͇̜͗̅̓̃̾̉a̷̬̻̟͓͔̯̾̃͜k̷̹̦̟̘̘͎͎̱̂͑̽ę̷̢̫͍̺̥͉̓̑͂͐͋ ̶̯̫͂̽̔̏͗̐͋̈́t̸̬̮͔͖͊̀̒̇̀̀̕h̸̡̨͚̣͛̿̊͑͜e̵̡̧̢̝̰̮͎̯͆͒͂͌̅m̷̧̠̌̽̚ ̴̠̟̲͍̳͋ḿ̴͚̩̥̓́̕͘̚i̶͚͇̅̌̑̉̓͝ń̶̲̭̖̠͎̪̀̒̆̄͑́͝ȩ̵̢̮̞̺̍̄̾̚͜͠͠.̷͙͍̻̤̘̍͊”̵̰͕͇́͋
Yasha narrowed her eyes, matching the hydra stare for stare. She did not want to venture out into the Nexus. She did not want to tempt discovery. They had lived safely and lived well for decades on the world that Diamis had found them after their escape from Sistarrist Drakan. No hydra monarchs to torment them. No dragon riders to hunt them. Just worship and relaxation for all their days. It was almost enough.
Almost, but not entirely.
As opposed as she was to the idea, Yasha knew that this day would come eventually. No matter where they fled or how they professed to have turned over a new leaf, they would never be safe from those that hunted them.
Being goddess to a bunch of talentless villagers was getting boring anyway.
“Fine,” she snarled after a long, thoughtful pause. “But the second I get a whiff of anyone from Tris’Hath, I’m out of there.”
“̶̡̻͙̣͖̼͒͘S̵̪̮̀͜ó̵̥͑͌̈́͊͘̕ ̶̧̫̤͐̔b̸̟̻͚̄͒ȩ̸̺̪͎̱́ ̸̙̈́̄̚͝i̵̡̱̻̲͖͌̅̏t̸̢̢͙̹̲̳̎̈́̏̈̓.̴̨̳̬͕͂͐̕ ̵͎͓͌̽̐̚T̴̛̘̯̥̱͔̐͋̈̿ẖ̶̙̞̣̪̲̭̎̓̈̔̃̔̉ȩ̸͙̺̯̣͓̝̂̋̈́̋̈͠ ̶̡̢̡͙̪̞̺͑̾͌̽̕ͅc̷͚̩̥͆̔͋̔r̷͉̠̅̆͛́̂ĕ̷͓̦̳͕̖͙̖͈͛̽̀̈́̏͠â̴̦͎̯͕͉̦̗̱̍̊͋ţ̴̛̝͓̗̔̄̓͝͝ų̴̛͕̟̳̥͒̈́̈̽̏͘͝r̴̦̜͇̉ͅě̴̢̟͈͉̺͕̘̾̀̚ͅ,̶̖͚̱̼̌̔̈́̆ ̷̮̖͍͉͐͝V̸̢̑̾͗̓̌̀̚͝e̴͙̥͇̫͗̾̑̿̽͘͜͠͝ņ̵̞̪̤́̂̑̓͘͝ò̵̧̧̞̦͓͓̈́̊m̸̡̞̖̖̻̰̣̄́̑̋̉̒,̵̱̯̘̋̿̑ ̴̦̰̗̤̩̭̺͈̐̋͑͊̎̾͝͝w̸̻̍ī̸̳̝͙̙͗͝͠ͅḻ̵̹͓̩̽̇̀͠ͅl̷̨͕͚̲̩̞̀͒͛̐̆̿ͅ ̶̱̬͚̠̒̓͋̏̊́͜ͅb̷̢̛͉̭͚̮͓͖̀͆͛̈́͘͠r̵̜̾̂̀͗͜ī̴̗͎̪͈̗̀̃̚ņ̵͈̦̱͙̹͋g̵̨̹̤͓̫̥̮̤͆̓̀̆ ̶̝͈͇̝͈̹̖̇̚͜y̷̥̝̰̥̞͌͗́̒̎́̃̕o̵̱̟̤̥̎̈́̅͋͆̓̾͠u̴̠͐̂̇̑̍͒͒ ̷̭̠͖̜̔̈́̍̅̅̈́̔t̶̝͎͕̀o̴̡̪̤̗̩͆̔͐̽̏ͅ ̴͈͍̗̣̖̤̝̝̌̽̈́͝B̶̳̖̯̩͚̜̕͝a̶̢̭͕̖̻̘͙̒͛ͅľ̸͍̠̫͙̘̞̿̚ȅ̸̹͓͍͈̂ḩ̶̨̭͔̤̹͕̀̀ͅȍ̸̡̨͇̠̟̈́͐̉́̓̈́m̷̼̳̳͓͉̿̂̚͝͠ȩ̵͗̋̓͗̉̋.̸̨̛̮͖̻̳̼́̽̇͝”̴̗͑̌́̏̽̈̚͘
“He had best bring me home as well. Or else we will have problems.”
“̷͉͓͎̱̼̈́͋͗̑̿̇̒̕͝͝S̷̥̰̯̠͂̈́̀̄͐͛̈́h̷̡̛͔͕͎̝̪̆̄̏̽͋̓̈̀̚͝e̸̛͈͋́͊̎̊̓ ̸̢̻̦̮̺̟̫̹̜͆͂̃̂̂̓̃̄̊͘̚͜͜ẅ̸͔̭̹̥̪̖͓̖̮̼̪̳́͊̐̎͜͜͠i̷̢̩͇̟̺̩̠̘̳͖̼̙̺̒͑̋͗͊̊̂̒̀͌͛̓̈́͘͠l̵̛̟͙͂͂̿̉́͝l̷̋̓͂̈́͂̆͑̑͑̇̄́̽͜͠͝ ̴̢̧͙̼̙̦̥̤̞̣̼̪͓̒d̷̛̪̙̳̘̩̭̯̪̫̽̈́̃̅͊̃̄̒̑̆ͅò̸̧̡̯̯̬̱͇̿̽͆̍̇̊̿̈́ͅ ̴̢̜͉̟̗̹̀̊̇̈́͂̂̌̋͘̚̚a̵̡̩̥̳̬͙̣̙͎̟̎̃͂̍͆͆́͛͆͛͌̈́̕͝ś̷̲̖͔̙̺̯̥̮̥̖̣̟̃̒̽̆̕ ̷̖͍̓̈́̎̔͊̑̅̏͝s̴̢̭͓̣̙͓̬̥̆̀͋̉̔͛̎̅̀ͅḧ̴̦͍͕̯̲͍̠́͒́̔̈́͝e̷͚̙͓͎͎͔͍̬̗̯̐̃́̾̉̈̀̀̈́̐́͊’̷̢̫͇̟̙̜̺͑͜s̸̢̛̞̳͉͇͓̝̗͔̼͍̟͈̎͂̆͂͆̓͌̐̍̚ ̵̫͓̆̈́̅̋͋̆̈́̑͘̚͘ţ̵̢̨̢͖̘͔̳͍̣̗̫͉̱̈́̀̚ͅȫ̶͙̥̺̙͖̥̯͆ļ̵̧̭̝̝̰̱͚̻̳̣̞̯̻̄̃d̴̰̻͔̦̭̋̃̿̈́͑̈́̋̽̾̐̃̿͜.̵̭̿͑͑̏̆̈́̈́̿̇͘͝͝ ̵̤̘̠̠̉͌͐̓̇̆̆͆͆͑̄̂͌͘͠O̵̢̮̹̦͚̣̘͍͔̮̮̣͗̏̿͗̽̂̉́̆̀͋̒̚͠r̶̡̧̤͇͉͍̝̳̝̤̰̺̅̍̌͒̆̏̒̄ͅ ̵̢̨̢̢̢͙̺̲̯͕͇̰͓̗̾̂͂̈́̒̉͝h̴̛͕̺͇̭̺̖̯̟̅̋̂͒̈͋͒̍͐̚͝͝e̵̙͊̑̋͂̊̔͐͗̆̿͘͝͝r̵̰̖͂͋̃̏̔͌ ̶̡͕͎̘̲͕̩̠̳̻̋̆̆̽ē̶̡̳̱̩̳ͅn̶̰̹͚̂̄͌̑̏͌̈́̇̈́̈͗̈͘͝͝t̷̳̞̋͋͌͌̈̑̍̅͗̅i̶̡̢͍̬̻̩͓͉̪̰͕̪͙͙͆̐̌ͅr̶̗͎̗̜̥̞͈͓̲̰̓̅̉ͅͅę̵̥̱̯̫̮̻̜̜̣̫́̀̽̿͂̅̈́̈́̎̕̚͘ ̴̲͕͖͓̣̤͎͖̲̜̭̄̈́͘͜͠ş̸̛̤̖͖̻̬̭͈̮̙̳̩͋͑̏̑̈́̐͂̌̐͌p̴̘̫͙̮̙̣͚̗̀͌̏̒͛͐͒̒͐̀ͅę̶̧̲͓̙̘̱͙̝̟͔͂̈́̌̇͊͗͋̂̄̑̊͆͘̚c̸͈̍̇̈́̀́͋̈́͊̉i̷͎͎̟͚̘̲̿e̶̡̲̘͚̺͈͓̥̙̿̄̉͒͑͐̄͝ͅŝ̸̤̈́͒̑͆̋̅̀̌̚ ̵̛̟̺̬͌̿̀̓͊͒̅́̕͜͝w̶̛̛̤̲̳̣͍͇̦̲̱͔͓͉̪̣͌͛̽̿́̎̆͑̊͑̃̄͝i̶̡̢̜̣̙̫̹͋̅͒̔͐͒̋̽̿̔̚l̴̪̩̜͉̮̇͑̋͐l̵̨̤̟̗̼̦̘̫͗̉̈́̀͝ͅ ̶̮̗̦̝͗̄̓̔̀̀̊͒́̌̕͝͝h̸̙̿̂̈͂́̔͊ä̶̢̲v̶̧̨̺̩̉̈́̅̌͗́͌̽̑̽̂̚ȇ̷̫͋̓͊̀̒̈̓̆͊̈͘ ̶̨̥̖͚̟̣̼͍̰͔̮̭̮͉̅͒̋̈́̑͗͒͗͐͌͂͐͝p̴̡̧̜͔͇̯̗͖̺̳͙̟̺͙͗͛̍͑̊̆͊͒̇͑͗̔͝r̸̢̨̫͓̮͈͍̯̣̪̀̈̒́̕͝͠͝ơ̸̡̩͖̤̥͈̥͙̘̦͆̈̐̆͝͝ͅb̵͎͉̎̊ͅl̵̢̨̢͖̳̼̖̬̼̦̮̩̟͎̿͒̌̓̍͘ḙ̵̡̀̒̋͌̆͋̂̏̕͠͝͝ͅm̶̢̠̪̹̜̰͉͕̮̫̠̺̐̉̀͊̐̽̈̓͗́͘͝͠s̵̛͕͕̪̪̲͕̎̐̀̾̒̄̍̑̿͊̒̌̕͝.̶̯̣̮͎͒͝”̴̳̜̤̰̹̱͓̘̯͔͚̝͇͈͌̿̏̾̄̋
The threatening coo from Diamis soothed some of Yasha’s irritation. She closed the distance between herself and the hydra’s central head, pressing her hands to the scaled snout. Hot, rancid breath coursed around her and power thrummed beneath her feet. She had not been parted from Diamis in some time, and a small, quiet part of her brain wondered if that was a factor in her initial reaction. For so long, they’d had no one but each other to rely on.
But all things come to an end eventually. This life of quiet hiding was not befitting a being as beautiful, intelligent, and powerful as her Diamis. She was a ruler after all, and all rulers needed subjects.
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