The Day I Turned To Stone

Chapter 1

Everything was dark at first. I couldn't move. Couldn't open my eyes. Panic bubbled beneath my calm—was this hell? Had I really died? The questions swirled like smoke I couldn't touch.

Then, a pull. Something indescribable tugged at me, and my body finally responded. Haha, yes! Finally! I thought as I tried to lift myself. But my movements were slow, ponderous, heavier than anything I'd ever known. Every limb felt like carved stone, every motion grinding against the weight of itself.

When my eyes finally opened, the world before me was unrecognizable. Light seemed to bend strangely, threads of energy weaving through the air like invisible rivers. The grass pulsed with life in pale green veins, the stones beneath my feet shimmered faintly with warmth, and the sky above flickered with colors I couldn't name. Every living thing seemed to hum softly, and even the dead shapes of trees glowed faintly where their magic lingered.

I blinked, unsure if I was dreaming—or if the world itself had shifted while I slept. Before I could take in the surroundings, the pull returned. With a monumental effort, my body lifted from the ground, and the weight of it pressed against itself.

That's when I truly understood how large I had become. I was never short, but I had never been this tall. The trees that had seemed distant now barely reached my shoulders, and the ground beneath my feet hummed differently, resonating with each step I imagined taking. Every motion felt slow yet immense.

I realized very quickly that I wasn't fully in control of myself as I took a lumbering step forward. My vision fell downward, and at first, I couldn't make sense of what I saw. Nothing looked like legs—only massive, unmoving boulders.

Then, with the next step, the "boulders" shifted. Slowly, impossibly, I understood. Those were my legs. My own. Each step sent tremors through the ground, my massive limbs moving with a ponderous strength I had never known.

Each step was a negotiation between will and weight. My body moved, but not entirely on my terms—like a giant puppet learning its own strings. The ground trembled beneath me with every careful shuffle, small stones skittering away like frightened insects.

I moved in what felt like a random direction, though the pull tugging at me was constant, insistent, impossible to ignore. Shapes shifted in the distance—trees, rocks, the flicker of energy threads—but nothing prepared me for what I saw next.

I stopped. There, not far from me, stood someone impossibly small. Short, almost childlike, with wide, luminous eyes that seemed far too knowing for someone so tiny. Her hat was crooked, the tip wobbling slightly, and a patchwork cloak hung around her shoulders, the ends fraying like enchanted ribbons.

She didn't move when I froze, didn't flinch when the ground quaked beneath my weight. Instead, she tilted her head and smiled, a small, mischievous smile that somehow made the pulsing currents of magic around her shimmer brighter.

Even from this height, I could sense it—she was powerful, but contained. Compact. Delicate, yes, but her energy thrummed with an unnerving precision, like a spark held tightly in a glass jar. The threads of magic around her shimmered and twisted subtly, as if obeying some silent command only she could give.

Her small smile lingered, almost playful, but there was an edge to it, a quiet sharpness that made me shudder. She did not flinch when I shifted, and the world itself seemed to lean toward her will. The pull that had guided me all this way stopped abruptly, leaving me frozen, like a puppet with severed strings.

"Wowee! I wasn't expecting such a big boi!" she exclaimed, her voice tinkling through the currents of magic, startling me slightly.

I am a woman! I screamed at her in my mind—but no sound emerged. My mind recoiled further. Wait... did I even have a mouth? Or lips? Or a tongue? The thought was alien, impossible, and it made my entire being shiver with something that was almost fear... and something that was almost awe.

The small girl began to circle me as if inspecting my very being. My head swiveled back and forth as I tried to keep her in my line of sight. "Hmmm there's something different about you." She murmurs softly. I scoffed inwardly at her comment Well different is retrospective! I retorted though she couldn't hear my thoughts. As I spoke, my hand, if it was even a hand, flew up and the tip of a rocky finger brushed against her skin.

A spark shot through my being and I heard a familiar voice echo in my head

[Secondary Skill Adaptation Through Inspiration used]

[New Skill Acquired: Tele-speech. The ability to communicate via brainwaves.]

What the hell was that? I muttered inwardly, the words echoing in my own mind, strange and hollow.

The girl tilted her head, just slightly, and I froze.

She heard me.

Not my voice—my thoughts. Every fragment, every fleeting panic. Her small, sharp smile deepened, and a shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with my heavy, stone body.

"I've never heard a Golem speak before. Wow, I must be even greater than I thought! I've created a sentient creature of stone!" She puffed up with pride, hands on her tiny hips before suddenly pausing. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating beneath her messy bangs. "Wait... you are sentient, aren't you?"

At such a display of childish arrogance, I couldn't help it—I started laughing. Or whatever the golem equivalent of laughing was. The sound didn't come from a mouth but from somewhere deep within, a low, resonant rumble that rolled through the ground beneath us. My thoughts echoed with amusement, bouncing through the new thread that connected us.

Oh yes, I managed between fits of mirth. Very sentient.

She clasped her hands together, a small giggle bubbling from her lips. "Oh, what fun! Well, you are now my familiar, so I must give you a name!"

My rocky head tilted slightly, curiosity pulling at me like a thread. I have a name already. It's... I paused, searching the recesses of my mind. There was a memory of it—faint, stubborn—but the more I reached, the further it slipped. Why couldn't I remember my own name?

The emptiness pressed in, unfamiliar yet oddly freeing. A name was supposed to matter. But now, staring at her small, mischievous grin, I realized it was irrelevant.

Fine. I relented. Give me a name then little girl.

She laughed happily and bounced from one foot to the other. She had her fingers on her chin, deep in thought. She clapped her tiny hands together, eyes sparkling. "Yes, yes! I've decided! You shall be called... Garvel!"

The word hit my mind like a hammer. Garvel.

Then, a sharp chime echoed inside my consciousness:

[New Name Acquired: Garvel]

[Connection Confirmed: Familiar – Master: Melantha the Wicked]

Melantha... the Wicked? The thought slipped into my mind before I could stop it, reverberating like a stone struck in a silent cavern. I noticed her freeze, the smallest shift in her posture betraying surprise—or maybe curiosity.

"Well, that's quite rude," she said, voice soft but sharp, threading through my thoughts. "I had hoped my titles hadn't preceded me so."

Her gaze, playful yet piercing, held me still. Even massive and heavy as I was, I felt the subtle tug of her presence, the unspoken weight of that name settling like dust in the corners of my mind. Melantha the Wicked. The words carried history, intent, and a promise I didn't yet understand.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean— I trailed off. How could I explain it to her? It was impossible. The words I wanted to say didn't exist in this strange new form, and even my thoughts felt heavy, slow, like they had to drag themselves through gravel before reaching her.

Melantha's expression softened just enough to unsettle me. "Oh, don't look so frightened, big one. I'm not always wicked."

She smiled then—a small, delicate thing that didn't reach her eyes. "Only when I have to be."

The young girl turned away, her cloak brushing against the grass as she beckoned with one small hand.

"Well, come along, Garvel. There is much to do."

For a moment, I didn't move. The command hummed through the bond like a gentle tug at my core—soft but irresistible. My massive frame groaned as I took a step forward, the ground trembling beneath my weight.

Melantha didn't look back. She didn't have to. The bond between us pulsed, alive and certain, like a heartbeat echoing through the air. And for the first time since I'd awoken in this strange world, the fog of confusion broke—leaving behind only one thing: the instinct to protect her.

—

I had expected to be summoned to fight as a golem but that's not exactly what happened. I got the sense that Melantha was actually quite lonely. She babbled on endlessly about things that seemed to matter less than.

She told me about the world I woke up to.

A land once ruled by gods, now cracked and hollow where their footsteps used to fall. Rivers that once glowed silver with divinity had dulled to gray, and forests sang with the voices of things best left unnamed. The stars, she said, no longer aligned with the old constellations — even the heavens had forgotten their stories.

The people clung to fragments of the past: cities half-swallowed by vines, temples buried beneath dunes, and towers that hummed with broken magic. They called it Erevale, though she claimed the true name was lost — spoken only by the wind in the tongues of the dead.

Melantha told me these things as if to fill the silence between us. Her words fluttered like moths around a candle, searching for warmth. I realized then that she wasn't just talking to pass the time. She was reminding herself that the world still existed — that she did.

So tell me, Melly. What kind of things do you typically do? I pondered softly. The small witch paused to fix me with a curious stare before smiling.

"Oh what a cute nickname. Well normally I tend to my garden and practice spells. But occasionally I get knights and adventurers coming to challenge me in battle." She pauses as her face falls a bit before she shakes her head and fixes a grin to her lips again. "Well no matter. I summoned you for a reason."

Her words lingered in the air like smoke, soft and uncertain. I tilted my head, studying her—this small witch with a brave smile and tired eyes.

A reason? I echoed. What kind of reason?

She clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace in a slow circle around me. The air shimmered faintly with her magic—petals rising from the soil as if drawn to her steps.

"To protect me," she said simply. "Or perhaps... to keep me company. I haven't quite decided yet. Perhaps both"

Melantha tapped a finger against her chin, thinking, before snapping her fingers. "I know! You can move the rocks by the pond. They've been sitting there for ages and I can't get them to stay in a circle. Very stubborn stones."

I blinked. You summoned a golem... to arrange rocks?

Melantha puffed out her chest as if it were obvious. "Of course! You're made of stone, aren't you. Surely you understand them better than I do."

She gave a satisfied nod, already turning away. "Come along then, Garvel. The garden awaits!"

I scoffed but followed her anyway. My movements were slow but powerful, each step sending a faint tremor through the earth beneath my feet. I could feel the pulse of the land—soft, rhythmic, alive.

When we reached the pond, Melantha lingered at the edge of the path, her aura flickering faintly like a lantern caught in the wind. I stepped closer to the water and, for the first time, truly saw myself.

A hulking form of carved stone stared back. Broad shoulders etched with curling symbols, runes faintly aglow between the cracks of my body. My arms moved with a grinding weight, each joint shifting as if the earth itself remembered how to breathe. The sigils across my chest and the core in the center pulsed with quiet life, steady and ancient.

I leaned forward, watching the reflection ripple and twist in the water. I had bright glowing purple eyes that seemed to hold no intelligence. I had no mouth, no nose, no remaining vestiges of the girl I had once been. Part of me, a fragment I didn't know I still had, stirred with disappointment. This... wasn't me. Not entirely.

Sighing inwardly, I began to grab stones and methodically place them around the pond per Melantha's instructions. She interjected multiple times to tell me I was doing it wrong, having me adjust the angles of the rocks. Though, I soon found out what she meant by stubborn stones: as I reached down to lift one, it began to wiggle.

The "stone" twitched again, then unfolded—four jagged legs scraping free of the mud as the rest of its body heaved upward. What I'd thought was an ordinary rock was in fact a massive hermit crab, its shell a hollowed boulder drilled clean through and patched with smaller stones. It turned toward me, one heavy claw shifting, the sound like grinding gravel.

Melantha's eyes went wide. "Oh! Lithocarcinus lapidarius! Also called the Burrowed Stone Crab!" she gasped, grinning from ear to ear. "They love pretending to be part of the scenery. Isn't it brilliant?"

I stared at the creature in wonder as it snipped its claws at me, as if warning me to back off. I reached down carefully, curiosity outweighing caution. The moment my fingers brushed its shell, that familiar rushing tingle shot through me—magic flooding my limbs like liquid fire.

[Skill Resonance used.]

[New Skill Acquired – Lithobore]

Allows the user to reshape forearms into rotating drill-like appendages capable of cutting through stone, ore, and hardened material.

(Origin: Lithocarcinus lapidarius – the Burrowed Stone Crab.)

The crab gave a sharp click, then scuttled away beneath the pond's edge, leaving faint grooves where its claws had bitten into the dirt. I lifted my hand, still tingling, and watched as faint spirals of stone dust traced my fingertips before fading.

I caught Melantha staring at me curiously, but I ignored it as a strange pulse throbbed beneath my skin—like something alive trying to get out. I reached toward the massive boulder she'd been grumbling about earlier. My stone hand began to shift, the surface grinding and reshaping until it formed a jagged point. Then it started to spin.

The sound was deep and mechanical, a low growl rumbling up my arm. Before I could think, I drove my hand forward. The spinning point met the boulder with a shriek of tearing stone, slicing through it as easily as wet clay. A fissure spiderwebbed across the surface before the whole thing split cleanly in two and collapsed in a shower of dust and pebbles.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Melantha's eyes shimmered with astonishment, her mouth curving into a smile. "That was—"

Her voice was cut off by the sharp clang of metal striking stone. I flinched as an arrow bounced harmlessly off my shoulder, splintering into the dirt beside me. Instinct surged. I stepped in front of Melantha as another arrow hissed through the trees.

Then—nothing but the forest holding its breath.