The Great Core's Paradox

I had become extremely popular over the week that followed, something that was satisfying to experience. It meant that my efforts to convert the Coreless had not gone to waste. The younger members of the many-nest’s Coreless, especially, had proven eager to meet me.

Beyond the obvious similarity that was their size, the smaller Coreless shared many common features - the most notable of which were the darkwood carvings that they clung to and the way that their eyes seemed to light up in disbelief when they first saw me. I wasn’t sure which Coreless had distributed the proto-totems, but they had done the Great Core a great service. Though the small Coreless were weak at the moment, converting the youngest generation would make it far easier to spread the faith of the Great Core.

Still, that didn’t mean that I was ignoring the other Coreless. Not at all. If I was going to enact revenge on Tiamat for what she had attempted to do, I would need to assemble a powerful army. Regardless, I spent a large amount of effort on securing the loyalty of the tiny Coreless.

Fortunately, that effort was well spent. Wherever it had come from, [Little Guardian’s Totem] was a useful ability, and I made sure to use it often. I’m not sure that the older Coreless noticed what was happening, not at first.

The children certainly did.

Crowds of them seemed to gather around every time I left my original Coreless’ nest. Each time, I made sure to use [Little Guardian’s Totem] as much as I was able. Though the first time that I tried to use it had nearly drained me dry of mana, I found that the ability - though it didn’t seem as if it were any more powerful in effect - gradually required less and less mana as it increased in level. If [Little Guardian’s Totem]’scost had stayed the same, I would have struggled to create more than one or two Totems per day. The only option would have been to gorge myself on mana-water in a bid to refill my reserves of mana more quickly.

And while I did choose to do that occasionally, the reduction in the ability’s mana requirement made that decision unnecessary.

I quickly progressed from struggling to create one Totem before my mana ran dry to two - and then three, and four, and more. Before I knew it, it seemed as if I had personally met with each of the tiny Coreless that I had saved, all of them clutching tightly onto a carving made of darkwood.

I didn’t have to wonder why they came. I knew what it was like; I remembered the time when I was weak and helpless, able to do little more than peek out from my place within the wall-cracks and listen to the sounds of violence and bad-things. The tiny Coreless were like I had been, desperately seeking for something to make them feel safe.

The Great Core and its soothing light had been that for me. The darkwood carvings - and the Totems that I formed from them - were the same for the smallest of the Coreless.

Each of the carvings imbued with [Little Guardian’s Totem] gave off a small, short-range aura that helped to calm the mind and resist negative mental effects. I felt it every time I created a new Totem, a comforting sense of peace and a reduction in Tiamat’s incessant thought-hisses. From the way that the Coreless lost the knots of tension in their shoulders and bared their teeth a little wider, I could see that they felt it too.

Not that I needed to see it in order to know.

[Little Guardian’s Totem] had a few other effects beyond the aura that it gave off. I noticed that I had a connection to every Totem that I created, enough that I was able to follow the links to find any of them with a fair amount of accuracy. Typically, that link was tenuous; little more than a slight awareness that I had to focus on to receive any real information.

There were times when it wasn’t. Times when the connections pulled at my senses without my conscious direction. Times when I could feel something sent quietly along the links between myself and those who touched the Totems, hints of emotion communicated from mind to mind.

It wasn’t the [CURIOSITY] of Tiamat, a thought-hiss that was more arrogant demand for obedience than anything else.

The emotions that spilled across the connection were smaller, safer. Able to slip through the wall-cracks of my mind-nest while the over-large thought-hisses of Tiamat could not. They did not demand. They hardly even asked. They just wanted to be noticed.

Found.

[pain/need/sadness]

A tiny Coreless that skinned the flesh of her knee, dripping blood from her skin and fluids from her eyes, one hand desperately clutching the Totem that I had made for her. I found her and formed illusion after illusion of radiant color until the pain of her thought-hisses fell away, shifting into fascination and delight. With nothing better to do, I kept going until not-Needle arrived to take me back to the nest.

[grief]

Another young Coreless leaking fluids from his eyes, holding both hands fast to his Totem like a lifeline. I licked at the droplets until they went away.

[fear]

A small Coreless sleeping in a nest filled with many others his size, shaking and terrified in his sleep. His tiny fingers clung to the Totem that I had created for him earlier that day. I woke the little Coreless from his terrors and allowed him to rub my scale-flesh until he drifted back into peaceful slumber.

My efforts did not go unrewarded. Whereas before I had been slightly hesitant to travel through the many-nest without one of my original Coreless at my side, that fear no longer registered. Wherever I went, I would see one of my tiny Coreless, the most fervent of the Great Core’s followers.

My little disciples.

They ran through the crowds of older Coreless, and I could sense the light hints of joy or excitement when I focused my mind on the Totems that I saw. The weak emotion-sense only worked when a [Little Guardian’s Totem] was pressed against flesh, but it seemed like the little disciples had made a habit of it, finding comfort in the touch.

Even in the times that I left the many-nest with one or more of my Coreless, hunting bad-things to help keep the Coreless of the many-nest fed, I could still feel my Totems.

I could find the Great Core’s Coreless.

Valera watched, still rather flabbergasted, as Orken’s resident Little Guardian pressed his scales against a darkwood carving. Just like all of the ones before it, it began to glow with a light luminosity and exude an aura of peace - not enough that it was forceful, pushing alien emotions into her mind, but enough to notice.

Enough to feel safe.

It affected the children the most, when it was found that the carved totems could suddenly become something more. It was like a confirmation of all of their hopes; a bedtime story come to life before their very eyes.

Protection from their fears and grief.

People had begun to notice. There was no way that they couldn’t, with the way that the children acted. Where before, they had desperately clung to the stories of the little snake that worked to keep them safe, now they lived it.

They smiled again, free from that tinge of fear that made their childlike grins turn brittle at the edges.

Even a few members of the Council had grown interested, making passing remarks to Captain Wren about the viability of trading Little Guardian Totems to other cities in exchange for food. Items with a calming effect could fetch a high price, in some places. Even Valera could see the appeal; if a small necklace was the difference between keeping a cool head in battle or suffering a preventable death, it would be worth quite a lot.

Maybe enough to keep Orken fed, even. That would be a relief. Valera and her fellow Seekers had been forced to travel further afield in their attempts to bring back meat for the city, and every additional step was potentially one step closer to meeting something that couldn’t be defeated.

You never knew what you might face, even so close to the safety of null-water.

More than once, Valera had been forced to wander through Orken in a search for a wayward snake. Not long ago, she would have been worried at the thought. As much as she trusted the little cutie, the same couldn’t be said for everyone - especially after the catastrophe that was the Webweaver fiasco.

Now, she simply had to ask for those she passed to point the way until, eventually, she’d find her lost snake caring for some equally lost child. She’d watch him comfort them in their pain, or distract them from their sadness.

It was as if he knew that they were in need - and more and more, she had begun to believe that the children’s Little Guardian did know when they needed him. That the make-believe story given to frightened children had become reality.

That frightened Valera, even with the positive effects that it had.

Despite their efforts, humans simply didn’t know much when it came to Ascended monsters. When only encounters with a rare few could be survived and an even rarer few could be tamed, there was little chance to learn more.

They grew stronger over time. They absorbed traits from monsters that they consumed. They possessed powerful abilities.

That was most of what humanity knew.

None of that explained how their little cutie had seemingly spontaneously acquired abilities that were a near match to the stories given to a group of scarred children. None of that explained how a tale for desperate souls had become real.

As innocuous as the story of the Little Guardian was, there were many tales that were its opposite. She could only hope that there was more to it - that the legends told of Ascended monsters could not so easily make themselves real. Surely, if they could, humanity would have already disappeared.

Still, even if their Little Guardian was something rare, she couldn’t help but think…

What sort of monsters have we created?