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(Part 2 of Eternity’s Eclipse)
(Book 5 of the Fantasian Series)

Lina’s homeland was far from the quant woodlands of the east. Autumn’s hand was all but invisible among the jungle foliage: as they had for eons the great trees remained green, their leaves draped in the droplets of the afternoon rainfall and their trunks stretched to heights of several hundred feet by the rich soil. The air, too, denied the annual shift, every bit as hot as during the spring and summer and, if anything, even more humid.

No bears slunk back to their dens in anticipation of hibernation. No birds flew south, outrunning a creeping cold. No leaves fell crisp and lifeless to the forest floor. Every vine remained just as tight around its host tree; every predatory cat still prowled through the shadows; every fearsome serpent continued its winding trek through the undergrowth.

For an eastern explorer, fresh and inexperienced, the jungles seemed a timeless realm – untouched by age or season. Yet the observation was, at best, short lived; for the muggy world was, in reality, on a far shorter cycle of metamorphosis, one that ran in a span of not months, but hours.

And, as Lina made her steady way along the narrow path, just such an hour had started to fall. Light – once in abundance, raining in a flood through gaps in the canopy – had already become a scarce commodity, hoarded away by tiny circles and clearings amid the branches and brambles. The avian chorus had already become a low hum, steadily drowned by the song of hissing, buzzing, and croaking that so characterized the night.

And none seemed so out of place in the dark, dank realm than Lina herself. There was a sense of civility about her: her long, perfect hair, her bright golden eyes, her pearly white teeth, her thin frame. The only connection between the world of man and the natural wastes she called home was her skin – once pale, but long since tanned beneath the burning sun; yet it was a trivial claim, once so commonly overlooked by the casual observer.

Yet it was with an authoritative poise that the woman marched along the trail, undaunted by the shrieking and caterwauling at every side of her and unconcerned by the rustling and quaking of every patch of brush. In fact, as the darkness grew thicker and the activity of the night grew more heated she seemed, if anything more enthralled, more eager.

At length the trail began to widen, tapering first into the natural equivalent of a roadway and then into a clearing. The sky was, in such a rare instance, fully visible; and the setting sun, far away lower rim along the western horizon, seemed to take the opportunity to snatch one last look at the woman as unseen hands dragged beneath the distant mountains.

She took a long moment to pause and watch its initial descent, reveling in the shadows. Casually she leaned against one of the nearby trees, shaking her head with a knowing smirk.

Almost instantly a low hiss sounded in her ear, snapping her eyes from the sun and to the thicket to her left. What had been peripheral movement suddenly became a direct confrontation as one of the many vines strangling the poor trunk began to coil from its canopy, glinting eyes and fangs marking it as not vine but viper.

The emerald serpent continued its descent; yet, beneath it, Lina remained motionless. At length the snake’s glinting eyes were parallel to her own, its inch-long fangs level with the woman’s nose. Again she refused to back away and, instead, presented her own teeth to the serpent in the form of an exuberant smile.

A slender wrist rose, gently cradling the snake head in its palm. Tenderly she scratched at the viper’s chin, drawing not agitation but contentment from the deadly predator. Its tongue flicked out several times, almost affectionately; then, as easily as it had come, the sated serpent steadily ascended and disappeared back into the eaves of the tree.

In the creature’s absence Lina left the woodlands behind, striding into the open. Still the cries of the darkness swirled around her, seeping from every niche and corner of the tree line like a repressed flood. The clearing was vast, nearly a mile from end to end; and in that time the first kills of the night swept along the grass – the victorious roar of a panther, the anguished cry of a serpent’s catch, the relishing shriek of a feasting avian.

As Lina reached the far edge of the glade, the sun had reached the far corner of its domain. Only its upper rim remained above the mountains, like the head of a swimmer just narrowly breaking above the waves. But the light was drowning, choking as the peaks and crags of the horizon pierced its neck.

“This is my favorite time of day.”

The voice was sweet, melodious; and yet it fit so fluidly with the turmoil of sound around it, as though it were every bit as much a part of the jungle as any jaguar, boa, or insect. So distinct was the harmonic connection that it took Lina a moment to pinpoint it – and even that was generously aided by her eyes, keen and prying as they cast their attention into the deepening shadows.

The speaker seemed almost to float from amid the trunks and bows of the exotic forest, ghostly and pale in the low light. She was a stark contrast to the clearing’s tanned denizen: though their bodies bore the same distinct shape, the newcomer’s flesh was concealed beneath a thick coat of white fur. The shapely teeth of Lina were long gone, replaced by primordial fangs nearly as long as those of the viper; and, behind the creature, swished an equally animalistic tail that seemed to cut a territorial wake behind her. Similarly, the well-cut nails, bright eyes, and shapely face of the spectral figure’s friend were long since abandoned: jagged black claws, malignant red eyes, and a distinctly canine muzzle instead forced the wolf to renounce any sense of civility.

“Why do you say that, Katarina?” Lina asked, arching a brow in curiosity as the newcomer joined her in the clearing. Together they sat side by side, watching as the edge of the fiery sun slipped away and the chromatic sunset enveloped the heavens.

“The world itself is a shape-shifter here.” The wolf explained, a thoughtful smile slipping across her lips. “The day-walkers hide, sleep, and dream, as the darkness awakens. No corner of the world is spared; nothing is left to some indecisive purgatory between Fantasia’s two faces.

“It makes me feel,” she finished, almost in a whisper “that we are what are truly natural.”

Lina nodded but offered no further say on the matter. She reached to her side, drawing a thin flask from her waist. Prying the stopper open with her teeth she took a long, deep sip; then, sliding the string over her head, offered the drink to Katarina.

The wolf accepted it; and, for an instant, the two seemed to carry almost a familial similarity. Their same mentality, their same dominant aura, permeated the whole of the clearing, melding fluidly like two conjoining wills. Their bodies seemed to glow in the dimness, their matching two-piece, leather-like garments seeming to hide the distinction of fur and flesh. Their eyes both glowed identically for the briefest of instances: both red, hungry, and all-seeing.

Then the flask left Lina’s hand and, again, the two were individuals: worlds apart in every way, divided by the primordial and the civilized.

“You know,” the woman noted as Katarina took several gulps from the drink “I wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

The canine took several seconds to reply, seeming to ponder the prospect herself. Inevitably, however, the delay ended; and, with a sigh, her claws slid the skin back to her companion.

“I can say the same.” The wolf confessed, running two digits along her stress-ridden brow.

“I suppose,” Lina chuckled “that you don’t expect to see much of anyone after the world ends?”

The flask remained firmly in her hands, the mead inside long forgotten. Yet the alcohol already inside Katarina fueled a confession; and, at length, she brought her head up to face her accuser.

“So, then, is it a good or a bad thing that we’re able to meet again?”

Lina shrugged, seemingly unbiased.

“I didn’t say.” She returned. “It isn’t necessarily good or bad: just unexpected.”

There was a surge in the jungle and, from over the treetops, several more kills rang out into the night. Along the far eastern edge of the clearing true night had fallen, its shadowy grip slowly creeping along the grass towards the seated pair. Everywhere the touched the song of the night swelled, growing ever more vibrant and monotonous; and yet neither Katarina nor Lina paid it any heed.

“Then I suppose you’re mad?”

“About what?”

“Several of the others joined me.” The canine reminded her. “They’re all dead – and they all died for nothing, in the end.”

“At least they died for something – few, if any, can say that. I figure that makes the gods more… merciful, at the very least? After all, we all die at one time or another.” Lina reminded her pointedly.

Katarina shrugged, but she hardly seemed unbiased. Her lip, whether intentionally or inadvertently, curled into an angry scowl; and, for a tentative instant, her dominating aura seemed to overpower that of her companion.

“Most of us die.” She muttered, letting the matter itself die.

“We’re still alive, of course.” The woman observed. “Which begs an interesting question: what do we do now?”

“Would you throw your support behind another cult?” the wolf demanded. “Would you spur on another apocalypse?”

“That depends on how talented a diplomat you are.” Lina said, winking as she slipped the flask back to her lips. She turned, noting the shadows mere yards away; and, as if suddenly pressed for time, sucked the last dregs of the mead down her throat.

“I’ve always been a talented speaker.” The ghostly figure returned. “But I seem to be at my best when the heart is in the cause. I won’t be able to convince you to try to end the world again.”

She rose and, seeming to glide once again, moved several strides away from the seated woman. Lina did the same, rising to march an equal distance from the wolf.

The turned to face one another and the shadows engulfed them, twisting around them like a thousand black vipers. Both women were immediately thrown to their knees, backs and shoulders contorting wildly as their jaws parted in bestial screams.

Katarina repeatedly thrashed and spasmed; but the change was far more apparent in Lina. All across her body bones snapped and reformed, twisting her frame; along her flawless skin protruded tufts of fur, rippling across her subtle muscles to form patterns of gold interwoven with black spots; her jaws cracked and elongated into an animalistic muzzle, the molars within sharpening into dagger-like teeth and fangs; along her back stretched a flicking tail, wracked by the angry jolts of her transformation.

Then both wolf and leopard began to swell. Their shapes remained constant – both humanoid, both unequivocally taught – but their stature did just the opposite. In mere seconds they had doubled in size; over the course of several more, they were double that. For the first few moments of the night the pain was intense beyond imagination; but then, as quickly as it had come, it bubbled into an unrecognizable lull – like the satisfying sting of a thorn being pulled from a finger.

Now nearly as tall as the trees themselves, both lycanthropes returned to their seats – their growth leaving the same distance between themselves, as if they had never moved apart. The flask was tiny, just a tan speck against one of Lina’s newly grown claws; and, with a sigh, she let the empty skin tumble to the earth.

“I can only imagine,” the leopard mused “that your new motive is bent, somehow, on revenge?”

“Hardly.” Katarina returned.

“Affection, then, perhaps? I never thought you meant harm on your own kind, regardless of what you… once were.”

“You think I want to spare the world because of the clan?” the wolf asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Lina gestured to the forest around them – to the other two dozen unseen but very real lycanthropes, prowling among the foliage in the hour of their prime. Her feline head cocked itself to the side, the expression there almost one of worry as she pried back the emotionless veil before her friend’s eyes.

“I never thought you hated us.”

“I don’t.” The pale huntress assured her. “But I’m also not sparing this world because of you.”

She took in a deep breath, almost seeming to steady herself with the cool night air. She shifted her eyes earthward, collecting thought and feeling alike for nearly a minute. Then, again filling her lungs with the darkness, she met the cat’s gaze again.

Lina was somewhat of an abnormality, even among her own kind. Most lycanthropes retained their eye color through the transformation; and yet the leopard instead seemed tainted by the shadows, her golden gaze waning into a murky orange. In some instances, it seemed to retain its metallic glow; in others it was crimson, deep and devilish in its ferocity.

Yet it was neither kindly nor vicious for Katarina: instead, it sparkled with the orange flare of curiosity.