Immediately upon finding the diamond-crested earth, I shrink to the smallest I can. It is dangerous to be so small up here, where even the ground itself can kill me, but I cannot risk the beast discovering me. Not if I plan to fulfil my purpose.

  It cannot know where I am.

  With my distortions, I can obscure myself from those with mundane sight. It is not perfect, and any that view me from an odd angle could easily spot me, but I limit the risk by swimming a mere scale-width above the shifting earth.

  The expanse of crystal appears quite similar to how that ice albanic had left the environment after our fight… only many times larger. The diamonds spike out from the earth in many large pillars, but far more smaller ones linger on the surface, quickly being swallowed by the earth where it isn’t supported by the crystals themselves.

  It couldn’t be long since the lynx was here.

  Almost as if inviting me to follow it, the lynx has left a trail of diamond footholds. Of those I can see poking through the surface, its pawprints carved into the tops of each pillar reveals this is not some other beast with a similar command over diamond. It is Scia’s murderer.

  I imagine neither these footholds, nor any of the crystal formations behind me, will survive the next passage of the Titan, so it’s fortunate I find it now.

  Slowly, carefully, I follow the trail to the lynx’s lair. It takes a surprisingly short time. Considering how vast my search area was, how have I found the beast so easily? It no longer rests within the skull of some Titan. Whether that shard was swallowed by the earth, or the lynx simply moved homes, I don’t know. Instead, it has chosen the fracture in a femur of some long dead Titan to call its nest.

  I keep to the furthest I can extend my range with bends, hidden well behind a mound of mostly unshifting earth. The fracture through bone is wide, but I’m surprised it can even fit the lynx with how large I remember it.

  At the first sight of the lynx, unbearable terror, and incorrigible fury strike me like a cold gust. I slam my head into the gravel. I refuse to allow my emotions to control me now. The sapients who fought those albanic soldiers didn’t, and I will not be any different.

  The lynx, as I expected, barely fits within the crack. As I watch, the being tears at the wall, chewing through as much moss as the other creatures I’ve seen. Is that why it changed homes? Because it ran out of moss? The fury it had shown after we took the last of its supply was beyond what any predator should show the intrusion to its territory. It was an anger at having its prey stolen. Does it consider the moss just as important a feast as any other beast?

  Regardless, I settle down to watch. I don’t intend to do anything else for a while; simply track its motions and learn. That’s what the khirig’s scouts had been sent to the albanic’s camp for, after all, and I intend to replicate.

  ???

  In the next few cycles, it becomes clear that the lynx had a routine. It would leave, hunting for a while, before bringing back its prey and eating within the bone fracture. Following that, it would lounge around, casually scraping at the walls and eating moss. It would then go to circle its territory — a search which nearly left me discovered the first time — before reentering its shard and resting.

  One fact I was quick to note was just how good its hearing was. A single, brief yelp from some creature far behind me, and the lynx was wide awake and staring in my direction. I’m sure it was looking beyond me, but it was still stressful to have it look like it was ready to pounce at me.

  Right now, the lynx strides away from its home. It has only just woken, and already it’s on the hunt. Once the beast is out of sight, I slither towards the Titan’s bone.

  As much as I dare, I unleash my size and scrape at the moss along the walls. First, I try picking the grassy pile up with my mouth. Never again. A bit of experimenting reveals the best way is to just sweep it all into a bend to dump it into the churning earth outside, where it is swallowed by the earth. Better gone, than in the lynx’s stomach.

  Once every scrap of moss is gone, I rush out, desperate to get away before the beast comes back. My panic is for nought. The lynx doesn’t arrive for another quarter cycle.

  But when it does come back, oh do I enjoy.

  The lynx carries some small dead beast hanging from its jaw as it treads jovially back to its nest. As soon as its head reaches the opening, the dead prey falls from its mouth, and a sharp rolling growl strikes my ears laden with presence.

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  I curl up trying to shrink further, but I can’t help the satisfaction and glee that arises from making the lynx mad with my own actions. It is clearly not pleased with its moss being taken away.

  Immediately, its prey is forgotten. It runs around its home with nose to the earth, searching for the perpetrator. Searching for me. But it won’t find me. I know my scales only give off the most subtle of scents; it shouldn’t be able to find me with that alone, and even assuming it could, I was extra careful and flew through the air away from where I hide first.

  And, as expected, it cannot find my scent. With how much time’s passed, any trace of my presence is likely already gone from the walls of the shard too. The lynx rushes off in a random directions, chasing down nothing but chance.

  This is what I need to do. Separate the lynx from its strengths as the khirig separated the truck they wanted from the rest of the convoy. I don’t care how long it takes, I will continue to pester at the lynx until its frustration is at its peak, and its strength is sapped. When I’m finally ready to take on the lynx, I’ll make sure it isn’t.

  ???

  It’s been dozens of cycles now, and I can tell the lynx is reaching its breaking point.

  It no longer growls and hisses, instead opting to silent fury as its eyes constantly shift every which way along with its ears. Sleep has remained a thing of the past for it — not that I believe a lack of rest will affect it much — what with the constant noises I pass through bends the moment it attempts to rest.

  It has changed shards a few times since I started abusing the creature. Each time, the lynx would have to fight beasts to claim the territory. These fights were not always easy; the beast is riddled with wounds. Not many of them all that pressing, but it has given me a decent understanding of its capabilities, its recovery, and most important of all: that it can be hurt.

  Of course, the lynx doesn’t get to enjoy a full cycle with that moss before I strip it away.

  The beast has tried to double back after leaving for its hunts, obviously trying to catch me off-guard. But I’d spent so much time thinking about how it might try to catch me, that it felt a bit underwhelming that that was the beasts solution.

  After growing more confident, I’d moved on to following the beast in its hunts. Same as the first few cycles, I had watched only. But that quickly evolved to my hunting the lynx’s prey before it could reach. Without time to have a full battle, it was only the smallest beasts that I ever really beat and swallowed. Usually, my intent was to leave the lynx’s prey ready and aware. This only added to the lynx’s wounds as the lynx could rarely sneak up on already startled prey.

  Another attempt of mine was to bait a larger beast towards the lynx’s territory. I’d hoped to pit them against each other. Unfortunately, I’d grown too hopeful, and had nearly got myself killed. The large beast would have bisected me in a single bite if I’d not been so small. And if not for my bends, I couldn’t have escaped its mouth. Never trying that again.

  The lynx is now visibly agitated and skittish. Leaping on every shift in the earth and unleashing spikes of diamond at every breeze. It doesn’t know where I am, and it doesn’t have any way to make me stop.

  All these things account to a creature that should be in a horrible state, and yet I’m still reluctant to face it. It hasn’t slept for over a hundred cycles, while I’ve had plenty. The amount of food it’s consumed in that same time has drastically decreased. And most important of all, the lynx is wounded from all its difficult battles, while I remain in peak condition.

  So why do I hesitate?

  Do I think it isn’t enough? How far do I push the beast before I attempt to strike the killing blow? I know for sure now that my fangs will pierce its diamond fur. No longer am I as weak as I was when I needed to protect Scia. I have become more. I have gained this strength to avenge Scia; to remove the lynx from existence. So why do I find it so hard to attack?

  The lynx lays prone out the front of its newest shard. It has taken to doing that these past cycles, likely having given up on the Titan bones entirely. Usually, the earth churns too much for even the lynx to comfortably lay on its moving gravel without it trying to swallow the beast, but the ground around here has been rather stable the past few days, so it faces no issues.

  I shove my head through a bend, and hiss. My tone laced with presence, not even the lynx could ignore regardless of how tired it is. Its ears flick towards the noise, but I’ve already passed through a few holes and am near the other side of the beast. Its ears react, but nothing else does. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the beast was sleeping. But it has simply give up on chasing down the noise that never gives it reprieve.

  The earth shifts. I glance down from where I rest ever so slightly above the ground. The sound of earth shifting itself isn’t strange, but the momentary return of the grinding sound reveals that it has been far too quiet. The Other Side is never this quiet, even in places with more stable surfaces.

  I startle, realising something is wrong and begin shifting to a larger form. But it’s already too late.

  The lynx raises its head, thankfully not looking this way, but that still doesn’t calm my suddenly racing heart. Why am I panicking? Do I even have something to worry about? What’s a little quietness on the Other Side? If it was a Titan, I’m sure the lynx’s reaction would warn me.

  But no, my panic is quickly legitimised as the heavy sound of movement returns with force. I’m suddenly deafened by the sound as all the earth beneath me shifts away. Every grain of sand and tiny pebble rushes outward, with the lynx at the centre.

  The lynx rises to its legs, and growls for the first time in cycles. My blood runs cold and I feel the pressure pressing down on me from the sheer intensity it holds.

  The earth explodes, unleashing diamonds everywhere. They rise from the earth, first at the very furthest point from me and the lynx, then rush inwards. Before I can even think to dash through the air and escape, the giant dome of crystal encloses the both of us. And there is no longer any time to wait. I cannot hide.

  The dome rapidly shrinks, diamond spears strike out at odd intervals, hopeful strikes at enemies the lynx still cannot see. But soon, the ground is replaced with a forest of diamond, and the crystal ceiling closes in.

  All I can do, is fly away from the sharp crystals, revealing myself to the subject of my torment. And it is furious.

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