They say if you stare long enough into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.
Well.
Apparently I've been staring into an abandoned well for three hours.
Without blinking.
"Don't you dare nudge me," I snapped as something scaly poked my shoulder.
The Dragon, crouched beside me like a cat debating whether to knock over a vase, slowly retracted his claw. "You weren't responding."
"I was contemplating."
"You were drooling."
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. It was a little damp. "Abyss'll do that."
He made a sound between a sigh and a low growl. "Saya…"
"What?" I turned to him, blinking for what felt like the first time in days. "It's a well. Maybe it has answers."
"It's dry."
"It has layers."
He gave me that look. The one that usually means he's reconsidering his entire existence and my place in it.
And okay. Maybe I'd been acting a tiny bit off since the jungle temple.
Since the koi thing.
Since we torched that tentacled monstrosity and ate its eldritch calamari haunches for lunch.
It started small. A shimmer in the corner of my eye. A whisper that definitely wasn't wind. Shadows moving a second too slow.
Then the dreams. Sticky ones. Voices speaking in tongues my ears knew but my brain didn't. Symbols that felt familiar even though I couldn't read anything more complicated than a bathhouse menu.
Oh, and I'd started humming.
Not songs. Not anything catchy.
Just this low, vibrating tone. Like temple chanting but backwards. Made birds fly away and once gave the Dragon a nosebleed.
"You've been off since the pool," he said now. "You twitch in your sleep."
"I always twitch in my sleep."
"You whisper names in your sleep."
That gave me pause. "What kind of names?"
He looked at me. Deadpan. "Ny'kteth. Unpronounceable. Warlord of Teeth. Something that sounded like a belch inside a coffin."
"Sexy."
"Stop calling it sexy."
I rubbed my eyes. The well was still there. Still staring back. I swear it winked at me.
"…Do you think maybe I'm cursed?"
"You've always been cursed."
"Okay, but, like, extra cursed."
He tilted his head. "Have you had any visions of blood moons? Whispering glyphs? Violent compulsions to open sealed doors?"
I paused.
"…Define sealed."
He sighed.
And then the well giggled.
Not echoed. Giggled.
Like something small and wet was down there. Watching. Enjoying the show.
We both froze.
"Right," I said, hopping to my feet. "No more wells. I am officially banning all abyss-gazing. From now on it's puddles only. Maybe shallow ponds."
The Dragon didn't move.
"You heard that too, right?" I asked.
His tail curled tight. "Saya…"
"Yeah?"
He stared into the well.
"…You're humming again."
The Dragon suddenly shifted.
Not just the usual drama-queen tail flick or long-suffering sigh. No. This was alert. Wings tightening. Pupils narrowing. Breath held.
He turned toward me. Fast.
"Saya," he said. "How are you feeling?"
I blinked. "Uh... fine?"
"Be precise."
I shrugged. "Tingly. But also floaty. Sometimes heavy. Like I'm made of bricks dipped in honey. And my teeth itch. But only when I lie down."
He made a noise. Something between a snarl and a groan of the damned.
"Oh gods," he muttered. "Oh gods. Oh gods."
"Hey," I snapped, "I didn't curse myself."
"No," he snapped back. "I did."
"What?"
"This is my fault," he said, pacing now. "This is entirely my fault. I've grown soft. Complacent. All this—running around with you, eating berries, making fun of sacred glyphs—this is what happens."
"Are you saying I've been... rotted by whimsy?"
"Yes!" he roared. "Yes! That and elder horrors!"
My stomach did a small unpleasant flip.
"Wait wait wait," I said, backing toward the nearest non-haunted tree, "Are you saying this is serious?"
He didn't answer. Just started counting on his claws.
"One. Skinny dip in a sacred pool of unknown purpose. Two. Flesh-on-flesh contact with the Blind Guardian—"
"I kicked it," I pointed out.
"Three!" he shouted over me. "You ate it."
"We roasted it!"
"I roasted it," he snapped. "I'm a dragon. That matters."
"Why?"
"Because I have mythological metabolism! You have flesh and bad decisions!"
I folded my arms, pouting. "That's rude."
He whirled on me. "Saya, you ingested the incarnate threshold between realities after frolicking nude in its holy moat. Your immune system is not designed to process primordial void matter!"
"Well maybe don't let me bathe in sacred puddles and snack on forbidden calamari next time!" I snapped.
His jaw clenched. "I told you not to lick the runes!"
"I didn't lick the runes, I fondled them!"
He hissed and muttered something in Draconic that probably meant we're all doomed.
I suddenly felt… smaller.
"Okay," I said quietly. "So what happens now?"
He froze.
That, more than anything, scared me.
"…You don't know, do you?" I whispered.
He didn't answer.
I sat down hard.
The well giggled again.
I really, really didn't like that sound.
The Dragon puffed up instantly—wings twitching, neck arched, nostrils flaring like he'd just been accused of forgetting which fork to use at a royal banquet.
"Of course I know," he huffed. "I always know."
I stared at him.
Flat. Unblinking.
"…You don't know," I said.
His snout twitched.
"I know enough," he said, voice climbing the octaves of panic-denial. "I know it's a rare metaphysical contamination event. I know it involves spiritual osmosis through sacred mediums. I know that mortal-flesh exposure to interstitial entities is—"
"You don't know," I repeated.
He shrank. Just a bit. Just enough.
"…Fine," he said. "It might be nothing."
I kept staring.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"She might get over it," he muttered to himself. "Humans are adaptable. You're full of worms already."
"That is not comforting."
"I'm being realistic!"
I crossed my arms and stood there. Wet. Naked. Probably cursed. "So. Let me just get this straight. I bathed in a forbidden ooze Jacuzzi, got groped by a cosmic calamari, and then ate part of it—and now I'm... what? Impregnated with prophecy? Slowly becoming a koi?"
He made a low, agonized sound.
"Okay fine!" he snapped. "This might be bad. Really bad. Unravel-the-soul-and-reknit-it-wrong kind of bad. Flirting-with-unbirth kind of bad. Temple-brand-starts-glowing kind of bad."
I swallowed.
"Oh," I whispered.
He looked at me. For real, this time. "Saya… if you start hearing drums, or tasting stars, or dreaming in runes—tell me. Immediately."
"Okay," I said.
"…Do you hear drums?"
"No!" I snapped.
He eyed me.
I didn't blink.
Then from somewhere in my gut, a tiny gurgle bubbled up.
We both froze.
"…Was that—?"
"That was lunch," I insisted.
He did not look reassured.