The Day I Turned To Stone

Chapter 2

The rhythmic pounding of hooves shook the earth, echoing through the treeline that cradled Melantha's alcove. She had called it the Dark Forest—home to countless creatures, most far from friendly. But these were no forest beasts.

Knights. Armored, precise, and deadly.

Before I could react, the first figure lunged from the shadows. My hands found the nearest branch, swinging it up instinctively. The knight staggered and fell from his horse, cursing, but it was Melantha who drew my attention.

She appeared at the edge of the clearing like a flicker of shadow and light, darting just out of reach, her movements playful, almost teasing. I blinked—she wasn't striking, just dodging, weaving, letting the knights stumble and overextend themselves. Her laughter, light and sharp, cut through the tension.

"They're slow, Garvel! Don't think, just—move!" she called, her grin impossible to ignore.

It hit me then: she wasn't attacking them; she was leading them, baiting them into mistakes, letting them exhaust themselves while she stayed unscathed. This wasn't her first fight. My chest hammered with adrenaline, a mix of fear and awe. This was my first real fight in this world.

The knight I had startled was charging towards me. I tried to take a step back but my lumbering form made it impossible to dodge the attack. As I braced myself his sword bounced off my hard rocky body. My own laugh sounded in my head as I realized I didn't have to dodge. I was an indestructible stone being!

"Come on, little peons! My Stone Golem is invincible! Go ahead, keep attacking!" Melantha's laughter bubbled up as she darted and weaved between swords and arrows, her movements impossibly light, teasing, and sharp.

I groaned, balling my rocky fists. Melantha! Must you literally put a target on my back?! My voice rumbled like distant thunder, half-exasperation, half-warning. But she only giggled, flipping backward over a fallen knight.

"Relax! You're too fun to ignore!" she called, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you're supposed to enjoy this, aren't you?"

I threw a hand back to gesture—and ended up clanging a knight square in the stomach, sending him sprawling across the grass. Melantha's delighted giggles rang out again, light and teasing.

I turned to the fallen man as he scrambled to his feet. He froze, staring at me in horror. His sword lay forgotten in the grass. Slowly, I knelt, careful despite my massive, rocky form, to get a better look at his face.

Why did he look so familiar?

My eyes fell on the crooked tooth—and my breath caught. No way.

It was him. The boy from the Passage Program. The one who had always whispered prayers when he thought no one was watching. The memory hit me hard, and for a moment, everything else—the knights, the fight, even Melantha's teasing laughter—faded into the background.

"Garvel! Move!" Melantha's sharp voice cut through my daze. Arrows whistled past, and another knight stumbled too close. I shook my head, forcing my focus back. My hands, heavy and unwieldy, grabbed a fallen branch and swung it with all my might, knocking the knight aside again.

Her laughter bubbled up despite the danger. "See? You're unstoppable! And so fun!"

I didn't respond. My eyes followed the crooked-toothed knight as he retreated, melting into the line of his companions. The sigil on his back caught my attention, stark against the polished armor: an intricately carved axolotl, coiled like a spiral, its frilly gills fanning outward in sharp, symmetrical lines. Its tiny eyes seemed almost alive, glinting in the light as if daring anyone to stare too long. The tail curled into a crescent, and etched along its body were tiny runes that pulsed faintly with an otherworldly energy. I didn't know what it meant—yet—but I burned it into memory. Later, I would find out.

I shook my head, trying to clear the swirl of adrenaline and disbelief. Melantha was still darting between the remaining knights, her laughter ringing out like bells as she taunted them, drawing their strikes and leading them into missteps.

"Garvel! Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to do something?" she called, her grin impossibly wide as she hopped lightly onto a fallen log to dodge a sword swing.

I heaved a groan, my rocky fists clanging as I brushed off scraps of dirt and splintered wood. Honestly, must you make me the main attraction every time? I muttered, my voice rumbling my mind as it resonated to her.

She only giggled. "Relax! You're indestructible! Besides, you are the main attraction—it's what makes this fun!"

I stared at her for a long moment, exasperation and reluctant amusement warring in my chest. Somehow, I had to get used to this—my new form, this chaotic girl, and the fact that surviving here meant dancing along the edge of danger.

Even as I processed that, my mind flicked back to the sigil—the spiraled axolotl etched into the knight's armor. I would find out who they really were, and what that symbol means. For now... I focused on breathing, on movement, on not getting caught off guard while Melantha treated the fight like a game.

When the last of the knights disappeared into the forest, I let out a breath—or rather, sighed inwardly, since I had no true lungs to speak of.

Now, Melly... mind telling me who our new friends were? I asked, my voice trembling through the current of our shared mind.

The small girl only grinned, brushing the dirt from her skirt. "Oh, that? That's just the Order of Evrihal."

I glared at her—or did my best impression of glared, given the lack of facial expressions.

Just the Order of Evrihal, she says, as if that explained anything.

And who, pray tell, are they? I asked, already dreading the answer.

"Oh, they're knights," she said cheerfully, spinning on her heel. "Very shiny, very serious. They think I'm an evil witch."

Are you?

She winked. "Only on even-numbered days."

I wasn't sure if that was a joke, a confession, or a warning. Either way, I made a mental note to avoid even-numbered days for the foreseeable future.

Well, I said, the thought cutting through sharper than I intended, I take it you deal with this sort of thing on a daily basis?

Melantha paused mid-step, glancing back at me with one brow raised. "This sort of thing?"

You know—armed zealots, righteous shouting, people who think you're some evil entity.

She giggled. "Oh, that. Only when they find me."

Comforting.

"I try," she said sweetly, continuing down the path as if we hadn't nearly been trampled. "You'll see—it's not all bad. Sometimes they bring offerings."

Offerings?

She nodded. "Dead things, mostly."

I stared at her. Or rather, directed a long, silent stream of disbelief into the link between us.

She grinned. "Don't look at me like that. You'd be surprised how much you can learn from a corpse."

You're not helping your case.

"I wasn't trying to."

For a moment, the forest swallowed us whole—just the crunch of her boots and the faint hum of magic where her presence brushed mine. I couldn't tell if I was safer with her or if I'd just traded one kind of doom for another.

The witch turned and started deeper into the alcove, humming a tune that made the air tremble faintly. The light shifted as she walked; moss glowed where her footsteps landed, fading again once she passed.

You're awfully calm for someone who just stared down a death squad, I remarked.

"Please. The Order's bark is worse than its bite."

You say that because you haven't been bitten.

"Oh, I have. Still have the scar. Want to see?"

No.

She laughed. "Suit yourself."

I followed her across the clearing until she stopped at the edge of the trees. Her hands lifted, fingers curling like a dancer's, and the air around her began to hum. Threads of light and color spiraled from her palms, bending the shadows until the forest seemed to breathe.

A burst of brilliance forced me to shield my eyes, and when the light faded, a narrow path had appeared where solid trees had stood moments before. The branches leaned away from it as if afraid.

Down the path, half-swallowed by mist, stood a crooked building that might once have been a church—or a joke pretending to be one. Its spire was bent like a jester's cap, and the windows glowed faintly from within.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" she exclaimed, giving a theatrical twirl that sent her cloak spinning.

I took in the sight before me, noticing swirls of magic curling through and around the building—thin, luminous threads that pulsed like veins. It was as if the structure only existed because her spell insisted it should, a fragile idea of shelter kept alive by constant motion.

I may be a bit big to fit inside, I thought as my eyes fell on the small door.

"Well of course you wouldn't fit." She says with a mischievous grin. She then waved a hand and muttered a small word beneath her breath, a spell of some kind. "Sehl"

In an instant my body crumbled to the ground rocks tumbling from my form and scittering across the dirt. I couldn't respond, couldn't think.

The world narrowed to a single c***k of light between falling pieces—then nothing.

But even in nothingness, I dreamed.

I stood in a field of white sand. The sky above me was made of cracked glass, each shard reflecting a different world—some alive, some burning. In the distance, a girl stood ankle-deep in the sand, her cloak rippling like water.

"Do you remember me?" she asked, though her voice wasn't Melantha's. It was softer, older, like a forgotten lullaby.

When I tried to step forward, the ground shifted. My feet sank. Beneath the sand, I saw faces—stone faces—staring up at me from below, their eyes hollow.

"Stone remembers," the girl whispered. "But not what it wants to."

Her hand reached out. Light poured from her palm, bright and warm, until the glass sky began to melt. The shards rained down in slow motion, each one carrying a reflection of Melantha—laughing, crying, afraid.

And then, for just a heartbeat, her reflection went still. Cracked. Fading.

I reached for her, but she was already gone, her laughter swallowed by the falling light.

I felt her magic again, distant and dim, as it lulled me into a deeper slumber. An ancient slumber from which i couldn't wake from on my own.

—

The world erupted around me. Stone, cold and jagged, pressed against my limbs, shifting, pulling me together from the fractured earth. My senses were scattered—then focused. Pain, awareness, and instinct hit all at once.

I blinked, disoriented, surveying the shadows of the Dark Forest. Then I saw her—Melantha—surrounded, outnumbered. Four lizardfolk lunged, claws scraping bark, jaws snapping. Without thinking, without hesitation, I moved.

My legs tore through the underbrush, stone scraping against roots and loose earth, momentum carrying me faster than I'd thought possible. The creatures hissed at my sudden appearance, but I didn't pause to watch—they were between me and her, and nothing else mattered.

I collided with the nearest, sending it sprawling, its claws flailing uselessly. Another lunged, but I sidestepped, swinging my arm like a hammer; stone met scale, and it screeched before skidding backward into the undergrowth.

Melantha was grabbing a glowing root, her hands shaking slightly, but she kept moving. I snarled—a sound more instinct than thought—warning the others. My body moved as if it remembered the rhythm of battle, every strike precise, every movement protective.

One of them leapt from the shadows behind her. My eyes caught it just in time. I twisted, intercepting the strike, and the lizardfolk crashed against me, dazed. Melantha's gaze met mine for a brief instant, and I read it clearly: Do what you must.

Instinct, memory, and command merged into one driving force. I was here. I was her shield. And nothing in the Dark Forest would stop me from keeping her alive.

A large lizardman straightened up and whirled in my direction before stopping short. His snout turned upward as his gaze traveled along my form. The terror in his eyes was evident as I suddenly let out a roar—a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from within rather than a mouth.

[Secondary Skill Adaptation through Inspiration used]

[New Skill Acquired – Intimidate: Can use presence and overwhelming force to instill fear in enemies, lowering their attack and defense for a short time.]

The lizardman froze, tail curling nervously as his comrades glanced at him, uncertainty flickering across their scaled faces. Even from the corner of my vision, I could see Melantha stiffen, surprised by the sheer force of my emergence.

Instinctively, I stepped forward, letting the power of the skill roll through me. The shadows of the forest seemed to bend with the echo of my roar, and the lizardfolk hesitated, unsure whether to attack or flee.

My eyes caught her—Melantha—slipping through the undergrowth with unnerving calm, moving as if the danger around her didn't exist. A low, irritated grumble rumbled in my chest. Careless, reckless... why does she think this is safe?

She flinched slightly, just a twitch, as if hearing the thought echo somewhere inside her mind. Her lips curved into a small, almost guilty smile. Yes, my irritation continued silently, of course, you're risking yourself. Of course you are.

The lizardmen didn't wait for a second command. With a chorus of hisses and shrieks, they retreated deeper into the forest, tails tucked tightly, disappearing into the shadows from which they had emerged.

I stood rigid for a heartbeat, chest heaving, still half-formed from the stone, every sense alert. She crouched, fiddling with something small and purple in the undergrowth—though I didn't yet know what it was. My claws itched to act, to enforce order, but for now, I had to settle for keeping my distance and watching, every sense ready for the next threat.

Another low growl escaped me, more a warning than a roar this time. Move. Don't dawdle. Don't make me come after you again.

Melantha's small smile lingered, and I felt a flicker of... acknowledgment. Whether she fully understood my irritation or merely felt it, I didn't know—but it didn't matter. I'd protect her, annoyed as I was, because that's what I did.

"Well, thanks a bunch, but could you help me rather than glaring at me so?" Her voice floated over as she bounced across a fallen log, heading toward two large boulders.

With what? I grumbled silently, but my limbs were already moving before I even fully finished the thought, closing the distance between us.

"I need a flower," she called, stretching toward the narrow crac.k between the stones. "It's in there, and I just... cannot reach it."

I chuckled inwardly, the sound rumbling through my chest. Of course... using the stone golem to move stones once again, huh? My irritation flared, but beneath it was that familiar pull, the instinct to protect, to assist. I stepped forward, massive hands gripping the boulders, feeling the weight of them in my stone-formed muscles.

The forest seemed to hold its breath around us—the lizardfolk nowhere in sight, for now. I shifted one boulder aside with a grunt, revealing the glowing petals within. Melantha's eyes lit up, and she reached for it with a grin that somehow managed to annoy and amuse me at the same time.

Next time, I thought, try not to make me do all the heavy lifting while surrounded by things that want to eat you.

She merely flashed a grin and tucked the petals into the satchel at her waist.