Láidr Iarlaith and his mother were carrying baskets full of wool and walked through the village. He looked around the village, in the same way a. The Blue-Winged tribe lived a modest life in the fields of Brionnica, easily shown off by the homes made out of old oak wood and cobblestone with little to no other decorations. Despite this, the drakonids living here were anything but, with their large statures, men and women included. The stone path connecting each house and leading to the center of the village was busy, with the huffs and chants of men carrying boars and fish from their hunts, or the farmers with their crop. He could hear the laughter and banter of children playing, excitedly running and flying around, swishing through the air as they compete with one another.

  He paused, watching them soar in the air without a care in the world. The thought of joining them ached his mind, but alas, looking at his arms and seeing his lacking characteristics. With no wings, he could only watch them as would a chicken envy the crow. Not to mention that the difference in size was so staggering he could never keep up even if he did have wings. Compared to the other children, the little boy was two heads smaller. His head dropped slightly as his doubts started to bubble inside the crevaces of his mind, and he could hear the voices cursing his name. However, he snapped out of it the moment his mother placed her hand on his head and gently ruffled his hair, her hand feeling warm. "Pay them no thought at all, a mhuirnín. You are fine as you are. Now we musn't dawdle, prayer starts in an hour." Caoimhe said and took the basket of wool and positioned it atop hers with a huff. She took his hand and led her son further down the village, to the market.

  The marketplace was bustling with work, the aroma of freshly cut meat and ripe fruit leading customers to quickly made wooden stalls, whilst the ringing from metal being sharpened and the splintering from wood being carved echo throughout the busy market. Due to the close proximity of the village with the main capital many outsiders, such as humans, elves, even dwarves and gnomes, set up shop here, offering the drakonid tribe wares they otherwise would not have access to. They would also buy off directly any crops or cattle for a better price than in the capital. For this reason his mother takes the wool they clipped from their sheep and sells them here, in particular to a special shop. It was one of the few stalls to have a sign for it's name, that being "The Roundabout Merchant" with a slogan underneath saying "Our wares go round the world!", and it was quite well polished in terms of stalls. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen on the counter or the shelves, especially the wares. It was a testament to the dedication the saleman went through to ensure he could attract customers. The person behind it was a well known trader, going by the name of Wilhelm Cox. Seemingly as if he knew they would come again, he turned and looked at them.

  "Oh? Why if it isn't my favorite customers! How are you this on this fine day, my dear Caoimhe?" he said with a charming and clear voice, greeting her with a bow. Wilhelm was a portly man with a wide shining grin, and a stylish red wool jacket and fine black breeches that were well suited for his size. His hair reached his shoulder and it was prim and proper, while also carrying a hint of a lavender perfume. The man was the embodiment of what it meant to be a salesman and always put on his best act every time he took a step outside. She . "It is going about as well as every other day, Mr. Cox. How are you doing yourself?" she replied, while the young boy responded with a small 'hello'. The portly man nodded and chuckled softly to himself. "I am doing splendid, my dear, even more so now that you have come! And hello to you too, Láidr Iarlaith. How shall I be of service to you today?" he asked with a gentle tone.

  "Aye, ten ells of wool for sale" she said and with a resounding thud set down on his counter the baskets filled with wool. Intrigued, Mr. Cox inspected the wool, rubbing the woven cloth between his fingers. Láidr Iarlaith watched this silent interaction curiously, not knowing exactly what the portly man would say. After nearly two minutes of inspection, he smiled widely and laughed joyously. "Splendid work! I swear, whatever it is that blessed your hands, thank them for me." Wilhelm said overjoyed as he carefully placed the cloth back into the basket. "You flatter me, Mr. Cox, I simply do as my mamó taught me when I was a lass." Caoimhe replied, trying to be humble. However the merchant would disagree, shaking his head, and even being genuine. "Nonsense my dear! In my time as a merchant, your weaving skills have definitely most impressed me. As a matter of fact, I'd go as far to say this is your best yet!"

  The young drakonid listening to the conversation would silently agree, nodding his head. He remembered well how after their supper she had taken to the wool, and first thoroughly prepared a pot with water outside. With her fiery breath, she boiled the water, and put the wool inside, and added soap she had made from lye and plant oil. Her hands scrubbed every inch of the wool making sure that the grime and dirt were fully gone. Every so often she would leave it be, then come back to do it once more, fulling the wool properly. She did it many times despite her breathing being laboured, because as she once put it, 'If you want a good life, you don't let God do the work for you, you do it yourself', thus she never did anything halfbaked. After an entire hour of thoroughly washing the pile of wool, she proceeded to rinse, leaving it to rest on a rack in the sun.

  When the wool was finally dry Caoimhe would beat it with a stick to make sure no filth was left. Satisfied with her work, she combed it and thoroughly separated the fibers. Meanwhile, her little boy was by her side studying everything she did with a look of awe. It always put a smile on her face seeing her son enamored by the work she did. Once every last fiber was separated, did the time come for her to spin it into fine yarn. With an old spindle she had since she was a child she would make fine threads, her lips pursing as her hands carefully spun the delicate fiber. While this was going on she asked the little drakonid to prepare the warp thread for the loom, to ensure that time wouldn't be wasted. Not wanting to let his mother down, young Láidr Iarlaith did just what she asked and prepared the threads, albeit with some difficulty. Nonetheless she felt proud knowing her boy was working hard.

  Finally finished with spinning the threads together in a yarn, and the little drakonid with the warp threads, the time came for it to be woven into a fine cloth. The loom she used was the very same one her grandmother used long ago, when she was the same age as her son. This was a testament to it's quality, as it remained not only functional but reliable. She had woven so many times in her life, that every step she did, the calculation of the slack to prevent any unevened edges, weaving the yarn into bobbins and placing them into shuttles, to the timing of her foot on the treadle to pull the harness and pass the shuttles she had made through the openings in the warp threads. All of it was done with love, as she slowly moved her hand with the loom, her eyes constantly focused on the exact fiber she weaved. However, her favorite part of the process, was when she would tie the knots for the fringes, as then she would take the time and notice truly all that she had done till that point.

  Thus, Wilhelm Cox's praise wasn't for the sake of flattery, but true admiration for her work. Caoimhe wasn't fond of praise due to her humble nature, but even so she could only sigh and accept it. "Alright, alright, I understand, Mr. Cox. It's alright with you we simply go to price?" she asks, trying to get back on track. The merchant nods and ponders about the price. "Yes, given the quality of the work...I will give you a hundred brillings for it." he said with a snap of his fingers and an air of confidence in his calculations. She was slightly surprised and shook her head. "One hundred brillings? That's twenty more than what you gave me for last time, Mr. Cox. I simply cannot-" she protested, but he interrupted, waving his hand. "Yes, and this batch is at one ell longer than before, and the quality begs for it. Believe me my dear, six brillings worth of difference won't ruin me, especially given that I will sell this batch to a high paying customer." he said laughing confidently and already imagining the profits to be made.

  Caoimhe couldn't help but laugh as well, giving into the charismatic merchant's attitude. "Well, you are the professional here, I won't argue with your decision." she said with a sigh and handed over the baskets of cloth. He happily accepted them and took out his satchel and carefully took out a hundred brillings, and put them into a coin purse. He then took her hand and placed the bag gently on top. "My pleasure doing business with you, my dear." he said with a smile. She graciously took it and bowed her head in gratitude. "The pleasure was mine as well, Mr. Cox." she said, and the young boy next to her also bowed. "Thank you sir!" he said with a soft voice, making the older merchant laugh. "No need to thank me, my boy. It's my job after all! Good day to you two, my dear Caoimhe." the portly merchant said, and bowed.

  The pair waved at him as they walked away, and continued their way down to the village center. It wasn't too far away from the market, only a few houses away. In the middle of the entire village were all the official buildings, such as town hall, the church, the Guild House, and the house of the Blue-Winged chieftain. All of these buildings were far more elegant and used higher quality wood, due to the importance they held. Especially the church, built under the direct orders of the King himself, with the roof being made out of a fine and sturdy tree imported from the country of the fae, it was sure to withstand the passage of time with centuries to come. The walls were made out of a sturdy rock, sculpted to near perfection whilst having elaborate patterns. What most stood out, was the steeple, colossal to young Láidr Iarlaith's eyes. It had an imposing spire, tall and sturdy, with a statue of an apostle carrying a sword and shield, being the guardian of this temple. Besides the spire, the window in the middle of the steeple was wide and round, and was made out of stained glass, depicting the avatar of God as a shining light bringing down radiance to the world, in the form of apostles. At least that is what Caoimhe told the young boy when he asked long ago.

  They carried onto the entrance of the church, with two marble pillars holding up the roof of the narthex, and before them were the doors, wooden, tall, and wide. As they approached it, Caoimhe started to bless herself, a ritual of celebrating the avatar of their God, by putting two fingers on her lips, tracing a circle in the air, while pressing the tips on her forehead, shoulders and her abdomen as she moved her hand. Láidr Iarlaith however could only clumsily replicate the motions, which did put a smile on Caoimhe's face. As they were about to enter the church, the doors opened, and out came a mountain of a man. He was so tall that he had to lower his head as to not hit the doorframe as he was exiting. He was covered in scars, and wore a rough and worn out leather tunic that could barely fit his large body. His wings were damaged, making them useless for flight. His hair was wild and short, while the beard on his chin was far more pronounced and strong. Alongside the scars on his face were his blank and cold black eyes, showing full and well what he went through. His tail was incredibly muscular, and wrapped around his abdomen tight.

  This old drakonid was known in the village as Ceart Deartháir. Even by drakonid standards, he was enormous, standing taller than even the tallest by a full head. For the young boy before him, he was the epitome of a drakonid man. However, most would avoid his path, as they deemed him 'dangerous' and because of his past. To the drakonid mother and her son however, he was an aquaintance they would often meet when visiting the church. "Ah, Ceart Deartháir, good to see you here at the church. What have you been up to?" said Caoimhe, holding her boy close as he looked up in awe at the man. He looked down at them and let out a small huff of smoke, which was his way of greeting. "Gave my share to the friar," the old man said, his voice deeper than a bull and gravelly, but also commanding. He paused and looked more at the boy, and the boy looked back, slightly nervous, and hid behind his mother. The large drakonid slowly crouched down, grunting a bit as he met the young boy at the same level. "You listening to your mother, boy?" he asked, a tiny bit softer than before. The young boy met his gaze and slowly peeked out, and nodded. Satisfied by his answer, the hardened man nodded back, and pat his head. "Good, continue doing so," he said with a slight melancholy to his voice, before standing back up, and looking back at the mother. "...Take care of yourselves, Ma'am."

  She would respond with a smile. "Thank you. You need help at all, you're always welcome at our home." she said gratefully. He however would simply nod, and walk past them, with the same blank expression. Before he could leave, however, he felt a tug on his hand and saw the young kid holding his hand jumping up and down. The old man huffs and crouches down to the boy's level, curious at what the little lad wants. "What is it, lad?" he asked with a patient look. The young drakonid was quiet for a bit, before taking out a single silver brilling, and holding it out for him. Ceart Deartháir was confused and scratched his head as he saw the coin. "...Are you giving me this?" he asked, not quite understanding the gesture. The boy nodded and smiled brightly. "Mama and I wanted to give you a coin. Thank you for everything!" he said happily. The old man was speechless, and looked behind the boy at Caoimhe. She however would only nod and smile back. In a moment of silence, many thoughts went through his head. In the end, he could only let out a short laugh, and patted the boy's head. "There's nothing to thank me for, boy. I only do what I'm supposed to. You keep that shiny silver for yerself, get something good for yer Ma, alright?" he said with a small smile.

  The little lad chuckled softly, and nodded, putting back the silver in his pocket. With that, the old man stood back up, nodded at them both, and turned around to walk away, now with less darkness in his eyes. Seeing the old man walk away, the pair prepared and finally entered the church, the doors opening wide. Inside the church was where the village's architecture of highest quality. The floor was made out of pure marble, not a speck of dirt to be seen. Along the walls were sculptures of apostles and saints famous to the believers, whilst also being decorated with icons of historical events from the beginning of the world, to wars, to the current day. Furniture such as the benches, chandaliers and many more were placed meticulously, with the items themselves being made out of the finest wood and glass. At the center of it all was the alter, and around it the chancel where the choir stood singing gospels, and beside them a woman playing the pipe organ.

  This was the church of St. Aurelio, a man somewhat unknown to Láidr Iarlaith, but he did know the importance his existence had. All he knew really was that the man had been integral in helping the drakonids centuries ago, and brought them closer to God. Not every drakonid had been a practitioner of this faith, however even still, the church was mostly full, with many visiting the alter and leaving a contribution before praying, and others sitting down at the benches. His mother lead him through the middle, down the nave, where at the end beside the alter stood the local friar. Unlike the tribe, he was a normal human. With a gentle look in his wrinkled face and grey hairs atop his head, he was the kind old man the village would respect as one of their own. His attire was humble, black cloth that draped down his body comfortably. Father Michael, his name was, saw the pair approaching, and smiled as he faced them.

  "Ah, Miss Caoimhe, so good to see you joining us today." he said, his voice soft and wise. The drakonid woman smiled back at him. "Don't worry, Father Michael, we wouldn't miss prayer," she said, and took out five of the silver coins in her pouch, and put them on the altar. The altar itself was a fine wooden structure, with many silver and copper coins laid on top of it as offerings, and beside the coins were the icons of St. Aureolio and two other apostles. By offering the coins to the altar, the believers pay respects whilst also donating for other causes, such as funding the orphanage in the main capital. Caoimhe of course, amongst all of the believers is the most dedicated to this, always sparing a few brillings everytime she went to pray. The friar knew this and this was exactly why they were in good relations with one another. "The church is grateful to your contributions, Miss Caoimhe. Now, the sermon is starting soon, so do get seated." said the friar, with a smile as he lead them to one of the seats.

  After getting seated, Father Michael went back up to the altar, and everyone went quiet. He cleared his throat, and with a wave of his hand motioned for the woman to play an introduction for the sermons. She nodded and began playing a slow melody, a quiet hum coming from the pipes. The choir would join aswell, with the soprano's taking a small lead. The friar then turned to the people in the church. He spoke with a clear cadence, and conviction in his heart. "My brothers and sisters in God, we are gathered here joined by our faith in the one God. Just as the saint had brought the word of light to your people once ago, so too am I bestowed the honor of being the caretaker of this house of God."

  As he continued the sermon, the music followed his words, now slowly rising higher, a much louder, yet still gentle hum. The choir too followed this, with the mezzo soprano's taking the lead now. The priest continued, as he looked at the people, with a slight sullen face. "As we all know, today is the day of the terrible tragedy that happened to this tribe, two years ago when six of our children were stolen from us, three lost forever..." he paused, and let a moment of silence fall in the church, only the low tones of the Alto in the choir and organs being heard. The people were still to this day shaken by the incident long ago, one of the mothers of the lost children crying quietly. And for Láidr Iarlaith and his mother in particular, that day still settled deeply within their mind. Especially the little boy.

  After the moment, the friar brought his hands up, and began speaking with a higher tone, to raise their spirits. "I know very well the pain you go through, and it is incomprehensible to begin understanding. However, as St. Aurelio once asked of the lord when requesting help for the people; 'Prithee, my lord, for the sake of your children, give me the strength to withstand loss and pain, so I do not succumb to darkness.' Thus, I ask of you to join me in prayer, and seek strength in God and our brothers and sisters, so that we may continue to a new tomorrow."

  With that, he started praying, and the people joined him. The young boy however, always had trouble. Not surprising, considering the many eyes he could feel staring into his very soul, as if trying to burn it with their gaze. He looked around, and saw every so often one of them glancing at him, with utter disgust. If he focused clearly, he could even hear gossip.

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  "There is the devil child yet again..." an old drakonid woman would say.

  "How dare Caoimhe bring that cursed creature to this holy ground?!" a hysterical mother would reply.

  "To think that our kids would perish, yet that freak's allowed to live...Tch!" said a young male drakonid, barely an adult.

  The boy of course, hearing this, began to shudder slightly. His fears, his doubts, his failure of a body, they would all resurface, and mix together as the prayer continued. This ridicule and hatred began not long after the tragedy, but the young drakonid knew it was always there. Back at home, there was only himself and his mother. So naturally, seeing as in drakonid culture that family is sacred, the lack of a father alongside his differences compared to other drakonids, made him the target of their bigotry. The prayer slowly got to the end, and before the boy could sigh in relief knowing they'd leave soon, he heard one last remark, calm but vile words filling the room.

  "If only the bastard died instead of them."

  This was heard by everyone in the church, even Father Michael, shock clear on his face. The man who said it, was a father of one of the children who died. Cormac, his name was, laid back in his seat, not caring at the eyes set on him, only hatred in his own as he looked at the boy. After all, he said only what everyone was thinking, but hadn't the guts to say it. However, his words reached Caoimhe as well who for the first time in a while, stood up in anger and glared back at the man, her hair rising up. The two looked at each other, silently exchanging their thoughts as if they were in war. Meanwhile, the little boy was getting scared for his mother, and tugged at her dress. "Mama..." he softly cooed. With a sigh she looked down at him, now with a smile, albeit strained. "Everything's alright boy, don't worry none," she said, pausing before turning to the friar. "Apologies, Father, but we'll be taking our leave now."

  The man of God was speechless, but after calming down he nodded. "Y-Yes, that's quite alright. Take care you two." he said stuttering. In response, the mother bowed and took her son's hand, and walked out of the church, while also giving Cormac the side glance. After that, the church was still quiet. The friar looked at the man who had created this atmosphere, and shook his head in disapproval. "How could you say that? He's but a child Cormac!" he said with a defeated tone. The man in question simply scoffed, his tail beating against the ground in dismissal. "So were the others priest. So were they." he huffed and stood up, walking away with his leather boots ringing loudly against the marble.

  Outside, the pair were walking quickly through the village, Caoimhe practically pulling the boy along. He rarely saw this side of her, and every time he did, it was because of something relating to him. The little boy felt guilty for his mother always having to deal with comments such as those regarding him. Before his thoughts could continue to wander the dark path they were on, they came to a stop, away from the village enough for them to be alone. His mother was breathing heavily, her body shaking. He didn't know how to help her, only being able to pull her hand and softly calling out to her. "Mama? Are you okay?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Luckily, this was enough to snap her out of her delirium. Now calmed, she let out a long sigh. She turned around and looked at him now with a much less strained smile, and crouched down to his level. "Everything's well with me, a mhuirnín. Don't worry about what others have to say, alright?" she asked, while caressing his cheek. The little boy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, now also much more calm. "Okay...I love you Mama." he said, and hugged her as best as he could. The two embraced each other, with Caoimhe resting her head on his, holding him close to her chest. She gently rubbed her son's back, whilst humming a small tune.

  After a minute of comforting one another, she tenderly kissed his forehead. Pulling back, she held his face between her hands. "Listen carefully, Láidr Iarlaith. Ye of sound mind and morals mustn't falter when faced with horror, lest ye be eaten by the beasts. So never let the thoughts of others determine you. You are to be a great man one day, I can't have you thinking otherwise, you hear?" she said, her teasing voice breaking the ice. The boy nodded and smiled, sniffling slightly. Smiling back, she continued. "Alright. Now let's go visit uncle Alfarr and Dagny." she said. This got the boy excited and he agreed. With that, the pair moved along, leaving the past encounter right where it should be. In the past.

  ///////////

  In the depths of her mind, she could feel something stirring inside. A memory. She couldn't quite see it clearly, but something about it felt right to her. It felt comforting. The more she tried to focus, the more she saw. Around her she saw what felt like was her room, and beside her, sitting on the bed was a boy, around fourteen. He seemed like the average boy, short black hair, pale skin and skinny stature. However, something about his soft awkward smile seemed to resonate with her. As if he was important to her. Reaching out, her hand placed over his own. He seemed surprised, and looked at her with a blushing face. This warmed her heart, for reasons remaining unknown. Her heart was beating fast, as she slowly leaned in towards him. The boy did the same. She closed her eyes, in preparation for the kiss.

  However, she would never come to feel it for a loud buzz would wake her up. Opening her eyes, and seeing before her a stone path surrounded by narrow walls, she would be reminded of her situation. 'Dammit, back to reality...' Mellua thought, groaning in her mind, while only a growl escaped her body. Rising to her feet was a slight difficulty, which she thought to be the result of the weird song the female scientist used on her. 'Ugh, it's like that weird...bat woman spun me around like a rag doll.' she thought all the while stretching her body. She arched her spine, her chest low to the ground and her front paws close together as her hind legs pulled back. This was oddly satisfying for her, as her body began feeling a lot less stiff and she let out a hum of relief. Making sure her body was well adjusted, she started walking around. Her legs were still slightly awkward to move in synchronised fashion, wobbling slightly side to side. Eventually, because they were dexterous enough, she managed to find a good rhythm. Her left side moved at the same time, then her right side would follow after. When running, her frontal legs were slower and decided the direction she moved, while her hind legs moved faster. With her legs sorted out, she looked back at her tail, and tried moving it from side to side. The bladed lengthy appendage seemed to follow her commands well, as it swayed side to side. Lastly, she stood up on her hind legs to see her full range of movement. Her hind legs were strong, however while standing her frontal legs simply hanged awkwardly up.

  Now that she was more in tune with her body, she dropped back down on all fours, and perceived her surroundings. Aside from the pathway in front of her ending in with two choices, there was nothing that stood out. There was a lack of light source along the walls, and as she looked up, she saw that there was nothing covering the path above her. She saw bright lights coming from the very high ceiling of this facility, and a metal platform just below it.

  On said platform stood a row of scientists, looking down at her, and most likely other experiments. Squinting her eyes, she could just barely make out the three who had brought her here. 'Tch, these guys had enough technology to make modern light but didn't spare pocket change to make sterile environments. And they're just watching me, waiting for what I'll do?!' She cursed in her mind, gritting her fangs hard. Despite this, she didn't know what to do. She pondered whether or not following their rules and simply going through the path was the best option, but this didn't sit well with her. Then, a thought came to her. They couldn't possibly reach her from that height, and she was closed off. What if she simply stood there and didn't move? Defiance filling her, she laughed in her mind with a smug tone. 'Hah, if you sorry excuses for researchers want me to be a lab rat, then you got another thing coming!' she declared with a high pitched squeak.

  Not moving for an entire minute or two, she looked up at them and tried to gage their reactions. Surprisingly, they seemed to actually discuss, at least she thought they were, given how far away they were. She noticed one of them gesturing to a direction, and as she tried to follow to whom, she noticed on the other side from what little she could see a sort of control station, manned by three other strange humanoids. One of them pulled a lever, and as they did, she felt the ground beneath her slightly move. 'What in the...Oh crap!' she realised, just in time as the ground beneath her opened up. With her quick thinking and albeit still clumsy movements she leaps towards the edge, and tries to hold on. Her claws, still weak and undeveloped slip many times, and as she is about to fall, she tries a last resort and stabs her tail into the wall. Strangely enough, the move was so strong it made a crack in the wall. As she hung there, she let out a silent sigh, and looked down to where she was supposed to fall. All that was there were many rows of spikes, and what appeared to be some blood stains. 'Christ! These pieces of shit tried to kill me!' she thought and huffed out in anger.

  Realising now that they intend for her to fully finish the experiment, lest she dies due to her defiance, she slowly claws her way back up. As she collapses on the ground in exhaustion, the hole closes up, and she looks back up at the scientists. They seemed to have curious expressions on their face, albeit not impressed. This had angered her further and she found the strength to stand back up on her four legs. 'If they want me to put on a show, then I'll give 'em one!' she growled as she moved along the path, her paws clicking against the stone. Reaching the two paths, she takes her time to investigate each one carefully. The one on the left and the one on the right were frustratingly the same, ending with a turn. Worst part is that even her new sense of smell couldn't pick up anything, despite definitely being heightened.

  Knowing she had to keep moving and not stall, she decides to use an old trick. She picked the right side, and stuck close to the wall, slowly navigating it in case of any traps. This was more of a superstition rather than a technique, however by picking the right side of the wall, she could simply continuously hug the edge and move alongside it, and never get lost. Hopefully it might work. Keeping her wits sharp, she stays focused. Finally reaching the turn, she peaks around the wall. Seeing that it led to another empty hallway, she decided to follow along the beaten path. The path further on then led to another path leading to the right, which had led to another fork in the road. Following the one on the right would lead to a dead end, much to her annoyance, but nonetheless she continued along the right wall. She looked back up at the scientists, curious on their reactions. They seemed to be more intrigued, looking down at her with expectations. 'Yeah yeah, just watch me.' she scoffed internally and simply continued on ahead.

  The journey ahead was rather uneventful. Only thing the scaled quadruped was encountering were dead ends and empty hallways that lead to more dead ends. Not even any traps to deter her path. She grew restless at the lack of...anything. Just what kind of experiment was this? Why would they have her go through a labyrinth with not a single test? The strangest thing was there was no enticement other than the threat of death. No rewards, no lures, nothing. They acted as if she wasn't an animal, as if they knew she was capable of sentient thought. What kind of creature was she that made them so strangely wary for dealing with? Whatever the answer was, she couldn't make heads or tails, thus she simply kept moving.

  Making another corner, she expected just another empty hallway. However, she immediately stopped as she saw what lied ahead at the end. A statue, made out of what seemed to be limestone and marble. It was a gargoyle, sitting atop a pillar, with it's mouth wide open and looking straight ahead with it's soulless eyes. It's wings were curled up and otherwise, seemed like a regular old gargoyle she had seen long ago on buildings. Here, it seemed off. Gargoyles represented an intimidation factor, a sort of deterrence to keep intruders away. 'So that means this route is the right track...finally somekind of reassurance.' she mused, and slowly moved along the path. Mellua couldn't afford to be careless while facing an unknown threat. Her steps were careful and steady, her eyes taking in the environment, while her nose sniffed every inch. Eventually, her paw stepped on a piece of stone that gave way, pushing down slightly with a click. 'There it is!' she thought and her body buckled as she waited for the trap.

  But for some reason, nothing came. She looked around confused, and even lifted her foot up off the pressure plate to see if it was based around that. Yet nothing happened. 'Huh...Guess their work is faulty. So much for that.' she thought and laughed in her mind at the spectacle. Just as she started to walk again, however, she noticed something odd at the base of the gargoyle's mouth. A light appearing. And growing. Growing more bright. She squinted a bit, not quite sure what's going on. 'Is that...some sort of torch indicating a puzzle? No...it wouldn't be growing.' she pondered, her guard raised. The bright light began to form a sphere of fire. And before she could react, it shot towards her at an incredible speed, cracking through the air. She could barely manage out a panicking squeak before she jumped out of the way, barely missing the fireball. The fireball hit the ground where she was before, making a devastating blast that boomed through the hallway, with the shockwave throwing her through the air.

  Groaning, she looked up behind her, seeing the charred walls with fire still covering the stone. She was breathing heavily, panic setingt in. Noticing she was relatively okay, she tried to calm down. Until she heard another click. She opened her eyes and saw that her paw stepped on another pressured stone. Looking up, she noticed the gargoyle's mouth lighting up. 'Oh no, no, fuck!' she panicked in her mind, realising what's about to happen. She galloped across the path, her legs moving faster than a horse and her paws booming as they hit the stone beneath her. Again, the flaming ball of doom fired out of the gargoyle's mouth, and flied straight at her. All she could do was scream in her mind, trying to avoid death, all the while activating other pressured stones. 'Shit, shit, shit!' was all she could think, barely leaping out of the way, the barrage of fire wooshed past her, blowing up the area behind her. The last of the fireballs was especially close, the fire from it grazing her back and throwing her right at the wall, falling down with a thud.

  Her breath was strained, and all she could feel was searing pain. However, she could tell that she managed to not hit a pressure plate this time. She let out a small sigh in relief in her mind. 'Great...at least I get a breather.' she mused, and tried to simply relax. Looking back at her back, she could tell that there were burns, probably third degree. Luck was on her side, at least somewhat. Squealing in pain, she tried to get on her feet, her legs failing her as she collapsed. At first, she thought it was hopeless. The gargoyle was still far away, she barely managed to get halfway. She was a goner. There was no way out. Only death. '...No.' Mellua thought, and she groaned as she started getting up with her weakened legs. 'I did not get this far, just to let some punks get me with a cheap trick.' she growled, and with her body shaking she looked up towards the metal platform. She could only imagine what they were thinking, and all she wanted was for a moment to bite their necks off.

  Finally, with a growl of defiance, she stood back up on her four legs, and tried to analyze the situation. 'Alright...the damn thing can shoot fireballs that track my last known location before they're fired. That's the only way they could have been so accurate. And it all depends on if I activate the pressure plates...' she pondered. There seemed to be a delay between the activation of the fireballs and the trigger of the pressured stone. If she had to measure based on the earlier moment, it would probably be around a second. And they only activate after she fully steps on and off the pressured stone. With all this knowledge so far, what could she do? The pressured stone placement was random, no way of telling where the next would be. 'Perhaps...I don't need to know. I just need to check without setting them off.' she realised, her mind scrambling with possible answers. She knew that these pressured stone react only to a calibrated mass requirement. Otherwise, anything could set it off. Thus, guessing that her weight was about a similar amount to a large dog, she would have to be around thirty pounds.

  'In war, they would check for mines by stabbing with a knife. So...' she looked back at her bladed tail, and laughed in her mind at the convenience. 'Guess you'll be serving a use once more, my little knife tail.' she mused, her tail swaying around. Carefully positioning her tail, she lightly banged the sharp tip on the ground, making a clear thud. Satisfied that the coast so far was clear, she moved ahead. Banging the tip again on the one infront, this time, she heared a more hollow thud, as the stone pushed in and made a click. Once more, the fireball began forming from the mouth of the gargoyle. 'Not this time!' she declared, as she jumped up on the wall, her claws digging in as much as they could, and immediatly jumping over to the other as the fireball wooshed pass and and blew up at the wall. Relief setting in, she decided to try once more. Now she used less force with her tail while hitting the stone. The next three surrounding stones were in order from left, diagonally and forward; Safe, not safe and not safe, with the not safe stone plates sounding more hollow than the safe one. 'Gotcha! I knew there was a way through!' finally figuring out the secret, she pressed on. Unbeknownst to her, the scientists up above were looking now with a more impressed expression on their faces.

  After a long way through the path, she made it to the gargoyle. In her mind she laughed triumphantly at the statue, enraged with it despite it's lack of life. 'Serves you right, you dumb marble idiot!' she thought. On closer look, she noticed that the gargoyle was quite close to the wall behind it, and in fact, almost the same height. Curiously, she climbed up on it, her paws tapping along the statue. Sitting atop it's head, she looks over the wall, amazed at what she sees. 'Great...just great.' is all she could think, upon seeing the massive labyrinth ahead. From what she could see, she was barely a quarter of the way there. She could only see the edges of the walls, so no information could be gathered for the path forward. Her curiousity begging further to be sated, she slowly reached her front paw over the wall, before being stopped by a spike that popped right out of a hole along it. 'Fine, fine, I won't cheat your experiment' she scoffed before jumping down from the statue and landing with a graceful thud on her legs. Proudly looking back on the gargoyle for being able to outsmart it, she laughed with a smug feeling.

  'So long, you ugly statue. It was terrible seeing you!' Mellua thought and continued to walk away on her legs with her head held high. Then she heard a cracking sound. The cracking of stone. She immediately paused, her senses heightened, and looked behind her. The statue was still there, sitting quietly atop it's pillar. Despite her fears, nothing seemed to be the issue. For a moment, she felt relief at the gargoyle being just another statue, not some kind of monster that would get up and hurt her.

  And then it's head turned and looked at her with a smile.