Thud.
The sound of Viridion Skylargh's entire existence being unceremoniously dumped onto a wooden table echoed through the unfamiliar space like a death knell. Or maybe it just felt that way because he was currently lying face-down on a surface that smelled of spilled soup, and he couldn't move and couldn't see anything except the grain of the wood pressing against whatever passed for his face these days, and he was, to put it mildly, having a very bad day.
"A table", he thought bitterly. "I've been placed on a table like a decorative centerpiece. I, former servant to the most powerful beings in the universe, am currently serving as someone's table decoration."
He tried to move. He pushed against whatever invisible force held him in place, strained against the strange prison of his new body, begged his non-existent limbs to do something, but nothing happened. He was a seed. And seeds don't move or complain. And seeds certainly didn't have existential crises about their place in the universe.
Well, this seed did.
"I want to see around me," Viridion muttered under his breath—or whatever passed for breath when you were a colorful object on a stranger's dining table. "I want to see where I am and who these people are, other than this stupid table!"
But the table was all he could see. Endless, boring, soul-crushing wood, with its tiny grooves and its faint stains and its complete and utter refusal to be interesting in any way. He could hear things: footsteps, voices, the clatter of dishes, the crackle of a fire somewhere nearby, but he couldn't see any of it. He was trapped in a world of brown, and it was driving him thoroughly insane.
The voices were the worst part.
Not because they were unpleasant. Well, they weren't. There was a warmth to them, a casual intimacy that spoke of family and of people who had known each other their entire lives and had never once had to fight for survival in a dark chamber while the universe crumbled around them. No, the voices were the worst part because Viridion could hear everything and couldn't see anything, and his imagination was filling in the gaps with increasingly absurd scenarios.
"—caught it in the river, I tell you," the old man's voice rumbled like stones grinding together. Viridion recognized it immediately. How could he not, when that voice had called him a "stupid weird seed" and tucked him into a pocket like a piece of loose change? "Right there in the fishing net. Two fish and... that."
"That" being Viridion. Of course.
"A seed?" Another voice, belonging to what sounded like an older woman. The old man's wife, perhaps? "In the river? That's strange, dear. Seeds don't usually float that far."
"Well, this one did. Almost ate it, too. Thought it was a berry at first."
"You almost ate me?!" Viridion wanted to scream. "You almost CHEWED me like a SNACK?!"
"But look at the colors," the woman said, and Viridion heard footsteps approaching, felt the table vibrate as someone leaned over to inspect him. "I've never seen anything like it. It's almost... glowing?"
Viridion wasn't sure if he was glowing. He couldn't see himself. But if he was glowing, that would be just one more ridiculous thing about this entire ridiculous situation.
"Probably poisonous," the old man grunted. "That's why I didn't eat it."
"THANK YOU FOR YOUR RESTRAINT," Viridion thought furiously.
Then there was a new sound. A giggle. The kind of laugh that belonged to someone who had never known real suffering. Viridion's non-existent heart clenched painfully at the sound, because it reminded him of everything he'd never had long before he'd even understood what it meant.
"Papa, what's that?" the young voice asked.
"Dinner, if your mother doesn't stop me," the old man said, and Viridion heard the grin in his voice.
"Joke!" the girl said, and giggled again. "You're joking, right, Papa?"
"Of course he's joking," the woman said, and Viridion heard the smile in her voice too, and he hated all of them a little bit for being so happy when he was currently experiencing the worst identity crisis of his several-thousand-year existence. "Go wash your hands, Sanria. Dinner's almost ready."
Sanria. The girl's name was Sanria.
Not that it mattered. Viridion was a seed on a table in a house he didn't know, surrounded by people who didn't know he was conscious, and he had a system window that kept calling him stupid, and his main mission was to bury himself alive for seven days.
Wait.
Buried alive.
That was what the window had said, wasn't it? Be buried in soil for the next 7 days, or you will die. And here he was, sitting on a table, drying out, while a family debated whether to cook him or not.
"I need to be buried," Viridion whispered to himself. "I need to be in soil and grow. I'm not supposed to be a debated wether I am poisonous or not!"
But how was he supposed to communicate that to a family of humans who couldn't hear him, or couldn't see his window, probably thought he was just a pretty rock that had somehow ended up in a fishing net?
He tried calling his window again. The strange, floating interface that had appeared when he'd been falling from the sky, that had mocked him and insulted him and given him missions that seemed designed to make him miserable.
The window appeared, shimmering faintly in the corner of his vision, and Viridion felt a flicker of hope.
"Finally," he thought. "Maybe this thing is useful after all."
[Warning: Danger one meter away.]
Viridion's hope evaporated like morning dew.
"Danger?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "What kind of danger? Window, what are you talking about? I'm on a table in a family's house! What danger could possibly—"
[The danger has fangs.]
Viridion froze.
[The danger has claws.]
His non-existent blood ran cold.
[The danger has fur. Like the beasts back in Shatterloam. The ones that hunted in the dark. The ones that tore through flesh like paper.]
"WHAT KIND OF BEAST IS IT, WINDOW?!" Viridion shrieked internally, because he couldn't actually shriek out loud without a mouth, but his soul was doing a very good impression of screaming. "WHAT IS COMING FOR ME?!"
[A cat.]
Viridion blinked, which was difficult when you didn't have eyelids.
"...a cat?"
[A cat.]
"A cat?"
[Yes. A cat. A small, domesticated feline. Approximately four kilograms. Black fur. Green eyes. Currently licking its paw on the windowsill.]
Viridion felt something complicated happen inside him. It might have been relief or fury or the overwhelming desire to strangle his own system window, which was physically impossible given his current state but emotionally very satisfying to imagine.
"A cat," he said flatly. "You warned me about a cat."
[The warning was accurate. The cat is one meter away.]
"I thought you meant a real danger or a voidstalker or a shadowhunter or one of those creatures that used to hunt servants in the lower levels of the Archon's palace!"
[You thought incorrectly. As usual.]
"I hate you so much."
[Noted.]
That was when the cat noticed him.
Viridion didn't see it happen. He was still facing the table, and still trapped in his prison of brown wood. But he felt it. And then there was a soft thump as something landed on the table near him.
"Go away," Viridion whispered. "I'm not food. I'm not a toy. I'm a person. Well, I was a person. I'm a seed now. But I used to be a person, and I have feelings, and I would appreciate it if you would just—"
A paw touched him.
It was soft. And absolutely terrifying, because that paw had claws, and those claws were currently unsheathed, and Viridion could feel the tips of them pressing against his outer shell like tiny knives testing for weak points.
"No," he breathed. "No, no, no, no, no—"
The paw pushed him, and Viridion rolled.
The world became a blur of motion and chaos and the horrible sensation of spinning uncontrollably across a wooden surface while a cat batted at him like he was a particularly interesting piece of trash. He felt himself reach the edge of the table and felt the terrible lurch of falling through empty air.
And then he hit the floor.
Thud.
The impact was devastating. Not because it hurt, but because it was another reminder that he was no longer a person with dignity and autonomy but a thing that could be knocked off tables by house cats.
"I can't do this," Viridion groaned. The sound that came out was more of an internal scream of existential despair, but the sentiment was the same. "I can't... I survived ten thousand years in the Chamber of Forgotten Souls just to be murdered by a cat?!"
The cat jumped down from the table.
It landed beside him with barely a sound. Its face appeared in his field of vision, huge and green-eyed and whiskered, and Viridion watched in horror as the cat's nose twitched, sniffing him like he was something interesting.
"Please don't eat me," Viridion whispered. "I'm not tasty. I'm probably poisonous."
The cat's paw came down again.
Viridion rolled.
And rolled.
And rolled, across the wooden floor, past the legs of a chair, under the shadow of a table, toward something that glowed orange and red and sent waves of heat washing over his small, helpless body.
"No, no, NO!" Viridion screamed as he rolled closer and closer to the fireplace, feeling the temperature rise with every rotation. "NOT THE FIRE! ANYTHING BUT THE FIRE!"
The cat, oblivious to his terror, batted him again.
It's... hot!
Viridion could feel himself drying out. If he had a throat, it would have been parched. If he had lungs, they would have been burning. As it was, he simply existed in a state of undiluted panic, watching the fire grow larger and larger in his limited field of vision.
"I'M GOING TO DIE," he shrieked. "I'M GOING TO BE BECOME A ROASTED SEED! THE CAT IS GOING TO KILL ME! THE FIRE IS GOING TO KILL ME! EVERYTHING IS GOING TO KILL ME!"
The cat's paw came down one final time.
And Viridion was airborne.
He flew through the air in a graceful arc, spinning end over end, the firelight flashing across his surface like a warning. He was going to land in the hearth. He was going to land in the flames.
But a hand caught him.
Viridion found himself cradled in a pair of soft palms, lifted away from the fire, away from the cat, away from certain death. He blinked, and found himself staring up at a face.
A young face. She had dark hair pulled back in a messy braid, and eyes the color of the sky he'd fallen through, and a smile that was currently directed at him like he was something precious.
"You're pretty," the girl said, holding him up to the light. "Where did you come from, little seed?"
"I came from a chamber of despair," Viridion thought. "I came from ten thousand years of darkness, from a war that destroyed the universe and a rebirth that turned me into a SEED. And now I'm being held by a child who thinks I'm PRETTY."
"Put me down," he said, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Put me in soil. I need to be buried."
[The system detects unusual aura from the girl holding you.]
Viridion stopped his internal rant.
"What?" he alertly said. "What kind of unusual aura? Window, what are you talking about?"
[Would you like to see her status?]
"Of course I want to see her status!" Viridion snapped. "I was almost just barbecued by a cat, and now you're telling me the child who saved me has an unusual aura? YES, I WANT TO SEE HER STATUS!"
[Yes. Because you are stupid.]
"SHUT UP!"
[System detecting...]
Viridion waited. The girl was still holding him, still turning him over in her palms like he was a gemstone she'd found on the beach. She didn't seem dangerous. The kind of person who saved seeds from fires instead of letting them burn.
[Please wait for a moment...]
"What's taking so long?" Viridion demanded. "How complicated can a young girl human's status be?"
[Loading status...]
[Status window detected!]
Viridion stared at the window.
Scorpio.
The girl was a Scorpio.
Not that it mattered. He was a seed, she was a child. And the only thing they had in common was that they were both currently existing in the same miserable world that had apparently decided to make Viridion's life as difficult as possible.
"It has nothing to do with me, window," Viridion said. "Why do you keep giving me things like that? I don't even know why I have a window. Back in my previous life, I was too curious and used to wish for one. I used to watch the Archons with their glowing interfaces and their constant notifications, and I thought, if only I had a system, I could see my own status and maybe I could be as important as to them."
He laughed bitterly.
"And now I have one. And I regret everything."
[Because you are stupid.]
"Whatever."
[Would you like to summarize Sanria's status?]
"Not worth my time," Viridion said, because he was tired and scared and his shell still felt dry and cracked from his near-miss with the fireplace. "Just tell me how to get out of this place."
[You can't get out of this place.]
Ding!
[A side quest has been added to your journal.]
[Be attached to Sanria Vancove.]
[REWARD: Companionship]
Viridion stared at the window in disbelief.
"Be attached to her?" he repeated. "How am I supposed to be attached to her? I can't even move, window! I'm a SEED! I don't have hands to hold things with! I don't have legs to follow her with! I don't have a mouth to talk to her with! How am I supposed to form any kind of attachment when I'm literally a passive object?!"
[Not my problem.]
"I HATE YOU!" Viridion screamed internally. "I HATE YOU, I HATE THIS, I HATE EVERYTHING!"
"Papa, why do we have a seed on the table?"
Sanria's voice cut through Viridion's tantrum like a knife. She was still holding him, and looking at him with those curious sky-colored eyes, and she had apparently decided to bring him over to where her father sat.
The old man looked up from his bowl of soup. "Found it in the river," he said, shrugging his massive shoulders. "Came up in the fishing net. Thought about throwing it back, but..."
"But?" Sanria prompted.
"But it looks edible," the old man told her, scratching his beard. "Thought your mother might want to look at it before I did anything with it."
"Anything like what?" Sanria asked.
The old man grinned. "Thought I might chop it up. Make some soup."
"HYIIIIIIKKKKKK!" Viridion shrieked. "HE'S GOING TO CHOP ME UP! HE'S GOING TO PUT ME IN SOUP! I KNEW IT! I KNEW THESE PEOPLE WERE DANGEROUS!"
But Sanria was already frowning, pulling Viridion closer to her chest like she was protecting him from her father's words. "Papa! You can't just chop up a seed you found in the river! What if it's special?"
"Special how?"
"I don't know! But look at it!" Sanria held Viridion up to the lantern light, and even though Viridion couldn't see himself, he imagined he must have looked impressive, because the girl's eyes were wide with wonder. "I've never seen colors like this. And it glows, Papa. Glowing things aren't for soup."
"Thank you," Viridion thought fervently. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are my favorite person in this entire house. I take back every bad thought I had about you."
"Don't listen to him, dear."
The old man's wife appeared at Sanria's side, wiping her hands on her apron. She was a round woman with kind eyes and gray hair pulled back in a bun, and she looked at Viridion the way someone might look at a stray kitten, with curiosity and a hint of concern.
"Your father's just teasing," she continued. "We're not going to chop up a seed we know nothing about. For all we know, it could be poisonous."
"CORRECT! I'M POISONOUS!" Viridion yelled. "Well, okay, maybe I don't know that I'm poisonous, but I'm pretty sure I am! And even if I wasn't poisonous, that's not a good reason to chop me up! That's a good reason to LEAVE ME ALONE!"
[No, you are not poisonous. You came from the Order and were originally designed for consumption in the highest palace. The seed has healing properties.]
"I don't need your opinion, window!" Viridion snapped. "And I don't need you telling people my business! What if they do eat me? What if they find out I can heal sickness and they decide to grind me into medicine?!"
[That would be unfortunate.]
"Unfortunate?! That would be a catastrophe! That would be the end of my entire existence!"
[You are overreacting.]
"I am not—"
"We wouldn't know if we don't cook it," the old man said, and Viridion's attention snapped back to the conversation.
"Shut up, old man!" Viridion shouted, even though he knew it was useless. "Listen to your wife! I'm poisonous! Extremely poisonous! The most poisonous seed in the entire universe!"
[No, you are not.]
"SHUT UP, WINDOW!"
"Well," the old man's wife said thoughtfully, "Sanria and I could go to the town tomorrow. Ask around. See if anyone knows what kind of seed this is. Maybe a merchant or a healer could identify it."
"I am poisonous," Viridion insisted. "I can tell you that right now. I am definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent poisonous."
[You are not poisonous. You have healing properties.]
"I don't need your opinion!"
"That sounds like a good idea, mother," Sanria said, nodding firmly. "Yay!! We'll go to town tomorrow. And then..." She looked down at Viridion, and her smile was so bright, that Viridion felt something shift inside him. "And then we'll figure out what to do with it."
Viridion was placed in a bag.
An old, worn, dirty bag that smelled of fish and river water and the kind of neglect that came from being used for years without ever being washed. He could feel the fabric pressing against him from all sides.
"I should be back in the Chamber," Viridion muttered to himself as the bag swayed back and forth with Sanria's footsteps. "At least in the Chamber, I knew what to expect. This is not knowing whether I'm going to be planted or eaten or ground into medicine or played with by cats."
[You still have a side quest to complete.]
[You still have seven days for your main mission.]
"Yeah, sure," Viridion said, and he would have rolled his eyes if he'd had eyes to roll. "Seven days to bury myself alive. Seven days to convince a twelve-year-old girl that I'm not just a seed, but a person, and that she needs to plant me before I die."
He laughed.
"What could possibly go wrong?"
The bag swayed.