The Day I Turned To Stone

Chapter 8

The forest was quiet in the uneasy way it always was after magic had touched it. Midday light filtered through the canopy as the knights moved about the clearing, rolling bedrolls, buckling armor, and stamping out what was left of the fire. No battle cries, no shouting — just the stiff, heavy silence of soldiers who wanted to leave as fast as possible.

The commander stood at the center of it all, arms folded, watching Melantha like she might suddenly explode. I stood behind her like a beacon of protection, unmoving even under the judging glare of the knights.

"We're breaking camp," the commander announced without looking away from her. "But one of my men stays. I'm not leaving the Mimra in a witch's care without oversight."

Melantha rolled her eyes. "I've been very responsible with your shiny bug."

"That's exactly what worries me," he muttered.

Before she could argue, someone stepped forward.

Benji.

Helmet under his arm, face still a little bruised from earlier, but standing straight.

"I'll stay behind, sir."

The commander's jaw tightened — not surprised, just annoyed in a way that said of course it's you.

"Erin... you volunteering always means trouble."

Benji shrugged. "Better me than someone who'd actually piss her off."

His gaze flicked — just once — towards me. Not long enough for anyone to call him on it, but long enough for Melantha to smirk to herself.

I blinked slowly, head tilting with interest.

The commander finally waved a hand. "Fine. Pack your things. Try not to die."

Benji grinned. "No promises."

Maru tugged at Melantha's arm nervously, eyes flickering between the commander and Benji, though she said nothing. Her small frame trembled slightly, mandibles clicking softly in a rhythm that spoke of both fear and caution.

I watched closely, the subtle vibrations of her movements resonating faintly through the earth beneath me. Each twitch of her antennae, each careful step, told a story of mistrust, of the unknown.

Melantha crouched slightly, letting her hand hover for a moment before resting it lightly on one of Maru's bladed appendages. The touch was gentle, deliberate, meant to reassure without startling her. Maru froze for a heartbeat, then exhaled a soft, almost imperceptible click, letting the gesture sink in.

At the same time, Melantha's gaze locked on the commander. Sharp, unwavering, it was the kind of look that could carve stone if it wanted to. I could feel the intensity in her mind even from behind—anger tempered by control, a warning coiled beneath polite restraint.

The commander shifted uncomfortably under that stare, as if sensing that the quiet forest might suddenly erupt, and he would bear the brunt of it.

"See that the Etleeb follower stays safe. And don't let this witch out of your sight."

He spat the words like poison, then turned his full attention onto Benji.

"If she so much as breathes wrong, I want to know about it."

Benji's brows shot up. "Sir, with respect—Melantha breathes wrong constantly. It's sort of her whole... thing."

Melantha's hand twitched, and for a moment I wondered if she was about to set his boots on fire. Benji noticed too—he cleared his throat quickly, lifting his hands in surrender.

"I mean that in a charming way."

The commander gave him a stare that could've curdled milk. Benji just smiled wider.

I lowered my head slightly, watching the exchange with slow, deliberate stillness. The commander's scent—cold metal, sweat, and tension—hung in the air as he leaned closer to Benji.

"You keep your eyes open," he growled. "The golem listens to her. The Mimra follows her. If she decides to turn on us, it'll be your neck first."

Benji shifted his weight, but his expression didn't falter. "Then I guess I'd better make sure she doesn't feel like turning, huh?"

Melantha snorted. "If I wanted you dead, Erin, you wouldn't have time to blink."

Benji gave her a lopsided grin. "See? Charming."

The commander pinched the bridge of his nose like he regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.

I stepped forward just enough for the ground to thrum beneath us.

His gaze snapped up to me, and I let my eyes glow red—soft, but unmistakably aware.

I will not harm him unless you harm her.

The thought brushed against his mind like a cold wind. He stiffened, jaw clenched tight, then pivoted sharply on his heel.

"...Just do your damned job," he muttered at Benji before stomping off to join the departing soldiers.

Leaves rustled where the knights began to file out of the clearing, putting distance between themselves and the witch, the stone beast, and the trembling Mimra who clung to Melantha's sleeve.

Benji exhaled slowly, watching his commander vanish between the trees.

"Well," he said, adjusting his helmet under his arm, "that went about as well as it could have."

Melantha rolled her eyes. "Which is to say, terribly."

I simply watched them both—my witch, the human who had once known me, and the tiny, fragile bug-creature who now depended on us.

I noticed Benji's eyes darting to me every few moments as if he wanted to say something. What? Do I have something on my face? I projected towards him in attempted humor, hoping to lighten to mood.

Benji blinked, startled for only a heartbeat before his expression cracked into something crooked and familiar.

"Uh—no," he said aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... wasn't expecting you to joke. Still getting used to the whole 'talking directly into my skull' thing."

Melantha snorted. "Please. Garvel's been yelling in my head since the day we met."

I angled my head toward her. I was communicating clearly.

"You were brooding loudly," she corrected.

Benji coughed into his fist, failing to hide his grin. "Honestly? I kind of prefer this version. Less... terrifying statue. More... person."

Person.

The word settled strangely in my chest—like a memory half-remembered, too soft to hold but too sharp to ignore. I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I simply hummed low in acknowledgment, a roll of sound through the stone beneath my chest.

Maru peeked up at me then, her body lifting onto the tips of her spindly legs. Her mandibles clicked once—curious, not afraid this time. She tilted her head, mimicking my own tilt from earlier, then looked to Benji as if comparing us.

"You very similar. Souls aligned like fractured light become whole."

All three froze to stare at Maru as she spoke. Melantha seemed more surprised than either me or Benji.

I shifted slightly. Aligned? What does that mean?

Maru clicked softly, hesitant, then tilted her head toward me. "Etleeb..."

I hummed low, tilting my head. "Etleeb? Who's that?"

Melantha's eyes glinted, a soft, knowing smile tugging at her lips. She crouched a little, leaning closer, as if preparing to tell a story too vast for brevity. "You really want to know?"

My core pulsed faintly beneath my stone skin. Yes, the thought vibrated.

"All right," Melantha said, voice calm but carrying weight. "Before time cracked its first breath, there was only Stillness—a vast, endless surface, smooth as unbroken glass. Nothing moved. Nothing spoke. Even the light hung frozen in its own reflection."

Maru's antennae twitched, her eyes glittering with attention.

"From that silence came a tremor," Melantha continued. "A single ripple across the glass—and from that ripple rose the Reflected Ones, the gods who are the world turned inside out."

Benji raised a hand. "Wait—so the gods just... appeared? Ltoloxa is the one who—"

Melantha held up a finger, gentle but firm. "I'm getting there. Listen."

He shrugged, conceding, though curiosity shone in his eyes.

"The first to awaken was Ltoloxa, whose name means that which swallows its own sound. From his gills poured the oceans, and with a sigh, he sculpted the wind to stir his tides. He made creatures of the deep—smooth, soft, faceless things—to mirror his own drifting thoughts. But his waters lay still without contrast, and so he cried out into the void."

"The echo of that cry became Drazil," she went on, voice low, almost reverent. "The ground beneath and the night above. He rose on scaled wings, dragging mountains up from the sea floor. Where Ltoloxa flowed, Drazil stood; where one gave breath, the other weight. They quarreled endlessly, and from their clashes came islands, caves, storms, and silence."

I rumbled softly underfoot still listening.

"And from their fighting came sparks," Melantha continued, "and from those sparks came Erif, who laughed at both. She saw the stillness of the sea and the shadow of the earth and called them cowards. Her touch burned life into motion—fish that leapt, trees that grew, beasts that bled. But Erif's fire spread without end, consuming even her own joy, and so she cast herself upward, burning holes into the heavens so that her light might fall forever. Those holes became the stars."

Benji let out a low whistle. "Stars, right. Makes sense. But Ltoloxa—so he—"

Melantha's gaze flicked sharply to him. "Quiet. Let me finish. You'll see why."

He swallowed, nodding quickly.

"Last came Etleeb, crawling from the ashes and shedding forms like skins. It had no will, no thought, only the instinct to become. Wherever light touched stone, or shadow touched water, Etleeb reshaped it. It made wings from leaves, eyes from glass, and faces from the dreams of beasts. Thus, the Mimra were born—living reflections that remember no creator but the light itself."

She paused, letting the forest absorb her words. Maru's antennae twitched, mandibles clicking softly, and she lifted slightly, reverently.

"And when all things had taken form," Melantha continued, softer now, "the Mirror cracked. The Reflected Ones looked upon the world they had made and saw themselves inverted—the sea reflected as sky, the flame as dawn, the shadow as sleep, the light as soul."

Her eyes swept slowly across us, and for a long moment, there was silence—thick, tangible, the kind that leaves a mark on your chest.

"So when Maru says your souls are aligned," Melantha said finally, her voice almost a whisper, "she's not being poetic. She's stating truth."

Benji's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "Our souls... aligned."

Maru chirped softly, a sound somewhere between approval and amusement.

Melantha finally leaned back, letting the weight of the story settle around us. "That's enough for now," she said. "We move, but remember: everything you've just heard is alive in ways you can't always see. Etleeb's reflections... they're everywhere."

I rumbled low, vibrations threading through the earth beneath us. Alive, yes. But it doesn't explain what she means by our souls aligned

The forest seemed to pause along with us, as if holding its breath, listening too.

Melantha sighs softly as she turns to face me fully. "Etleeb is the god of souls and light. Mimra have been given the gift to see souls and their counterparts."

Counterparts? I questioned.

She nodded and opened her mouth to speak but Benji interrupted. "It's the same as soulmates? Souls meant to meet, deigned by fate to cross paths no matter what."

Melantha held up a hand, cutting off Benji gently but firmly. "Not quite. Ltoloxa may govern the oceans, Drazil the ground, and Erif the stars—but Etleeb... Etleeb shapes the light within all living things. The Mimra do not simply recognize 'soulmates.' They perceive the reflection of one soul in another, the thread of balance that Etleeb leaves behind."

I tilted my head, listening as her words sank into the quiet of the forest.

Maru clicked her mandibles softly. "Etleeb... guides. Shows paths. Truth in light."

Benji swallowed, looking between us. "So... when Maru says our souls are aligned..."

Melantha's gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. "She's not speaking metaphorically. She's stating fact. Etleeb's light recognizes when two souls mirror one another, when fractured pieces might form whole."

I let my eyes glow faintly toward him. The forest thrumed beneath us, subtle but insistent.

Benji's breath hitched, a quiet awe threading through his words. "Aligned... mirrored... whole."

I rumbled low, affirming. Yes.

Maru chirped, as if pleased. Her antennae twitched toward both of us. "All... together."

Melantha smiled softly, resting a hand lightly on Maru's spindly arm. "Yes. Together, for now. But paths are never fixed."

Maru nods and clicks her mandibles as she speaks. "Etleeb watches, guides... and tests. Souls aligned not always good. Sometimes bad."

I rumbled low, the vibration coursing through the forest floor, acknowledging Maru's words.

Benji's brow furrowed, glancing between Melantha, Maru, and me. "Wait... so aligned souls aren't necessarily... friendly?"

Melantha shook her head slowly. "No. Alignment doesn't mean safety or goodness. It simply means the souls are connected, for better or worse. Etleeb shows the truth, not the outcome."

Maru's antennae twitched in agreement. "Maru sees. Some paths bright. Some paths dark. Must choose. Must act."

A soft cough drew our attention, and all three of us turned to see the Lizardman Chieftain standing at the edge of the clearing, watching with an amused look, as if he had been waiting for this entire conversation to unfold.

"I see the human, bug, and the witch are having a heart-to-heart," he rumbled, tail swishing lazily. "And the stone one... are you apart of this conversation?"

I rumbled low in acknowledgment, the vibrations rolling through the forest floor. Of course I am

Melantha inclined her head politely. "Chieftain. We were just explaining a little about the Mimra and Etleeb."

He nodded slowly, eyes glinting with curiosity and amusement. "Ah... the god of souls. And the little bugs that see so much more than it should. Fascinating. Keep it safe, witch. And you too," he added, shifting his gaze to me.

Maru clicked her mandibles softly, antennae twitching. The chieftain's presence didn't frighten her, but she clearly recognized his authority.

Benji cleared his throat, a little sheepish. "Uh... yes, sir. We'll make sure she's... guided."

The chieftain gave a short, approving grunt, then leaned back slightly. "Good. Now, finish your lessons in the ways of the world—before the forest decides to teach you all in harsher ways."

I shifted slightly, head tilting toward Melantha, sending a soft thoughts her way. I believe that's enough for now

She caught the signal and gave a faint nod, her gaze returning to Maru and Benji. "Yes. That's enough for today. You'll learn the rest in time."

Maru's antennae twitched, mandibles clicking softly, but she stayed still, absorbing the weight of the words.

Beneath it all, I sent a subtle tremor through the earth, letting them feel my presence—gentle, calm, protective. No one will harm you while I stand here.

The chieftain's tail swished lazily, eyes glinting with amusement. "Wise choice. Curiosity is dangerous if unchecked."

Benji let out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "And yet here we are, dangerously curious anyway."

I rumbled quietly, the vibrations settling into the forest floor like a heartbeat. The three of us stood together, quiet, aware of the strange new threads binding us, as the forest around us whispered in the stillness.

The chieftain cleared his throat softly, drawing our attention. "I must travel back home, but, Melantha." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully. "You have found allies within the followers of Drazil. The Lizardmen are within your debt for rescuing me. I shall never forget your kindness, despite our harshness."

Maru's antennae twitched, and I could feel her small pulse of awe, mirrored in the subtle shift of the ground beneath me.

Melantha inclined her head slightly, her expression measured but warm. "We do what must be done. The debt is mutual, chieftain."