Nuishe

---

I can't ever say any of this aloud. Thank the Gladekeeper for opposable thumbs.

My clanmates speak of it as a "protector" or "parent," but I have decided to call it "the Wyrmwound Blight." Through my investigations into the character of the fungus, it seems to be descended from, or at the very least related to, the relatively common infection "Wyrmwound Fever." The Fever is contracted by inhaling microscopic spores, and its most prominent symptoms are lingering dizziness or confusion, throbbing headaches, and of course the eponymous fever.

This "Blight" variety, however, is especially virulent, incredibly fast-spreading, abnormally severe, and somewhat intelligent. In the later stages of infection, its hyphae grow within the victim until they reach the victim's brain. Once this occurs, the original fungus can take control of the dragon, "driving" it around and forcing it to do its bidding. Luckily, it appears to be contained to one lair.

This one.

And it wants out.

---

I know it knows it can't control me, but I can't let it know my plans. Does it realize I work for its destruction? If it does, it is biding its time. I don't know why it would bother keeping around a dragon that unapologetically wants it dead.

It's not like it can't kill me. One of my larger clanmates could take my head off in one hit, and it could make them do it.

Why, then? If it truly does feel my thoughts, why would it spare me?

---

To think, I could almost stand to look at the dragons under the Blight's control, if it weren't for all the twitching. Honestly, it needs to work on its skills as a puppeteer if it wants one of them to pass for normal. Any outsider would take one look at one of this lair's stiff, black-eyed, grinning monsters and immediately head for the hills.

Of course, it would not be good for anyone if the Blight could disguise its infected more effectively, but I'm just saying:

Dragons should not move like that.

---

I had a nightmare.

---

The Blight hasn't killed me, but it won't let me leave. I think I'm a challenge to it. If I had to guess, I would say it is probing for a weakness in my immunity, trying to see if it can find a way to infect me, and thus be one step closer to contaminating the rest of Sornieth.

---

I was wrong. I can't write right now, but I was wrong, and I have cost a pair of hatchlings their lives.

---

Now that I have time to put pen to paper again, I can amend my previous theory. I hope my claws won't shake so much that I can't write.

I was at least partially wrong. It may still see me as a challenge to overcome and infect, but yesterday it used me for something far worse.

You see, it let me out.

I thought I had gotten lucky. I thought that, since every single one of them had been focused on their monthly deep clean of the Chamberheart, and since none of them had noticed me slip away, I might be in the clear. I thought I could leave this horrible place, find help, and return with enough force to stop the Blight in its tracks.

I took to the air as soon as I was clear of the cave so as not to leave any footprints, and continued on foot when my wings grew tired. It was much easier to run than fly. My wings have had barely any use for the duration of my imprisonment in Sporefall Hollow, and I'm frankly surprised I still knew how to use them.

I made it to the border of the Scarred Wasteland and the Tangled Wood, where I was surprised to find a pair of misplaced Lightning dragons: two tiny Skydancer hatchlings. I talked to them, asked them where to find food and shelter in this foreign land.

I wasn't even considering that they might be just as clueless as me. I was still in panic mode, terrified that at any moment I would hear the subterranean rumble of a tunneling Ridgeback, that at any moment my nightmare would become real and the Mold King would explode out of the very earth to drag me back to the Hollow, kill me on the spot, or - even worse - decide that, as long as he was so far from his lair, he may as well spread the Blight as much as he could while he was there.

The Skydancers were confused and afraid. Why wouldn't they be? They were infants without a parent in sight, quite a distance from home judging by the color of their eyes, and now an unfamiliar Wildclaw with terror in his eyes was interrogating them about the Tangled Wood. They couldn't tell me anything useful, so I eventually gave up and decided that a night spend in clean air, under the eaves of one of the Wood's many twisted trees, might be good for me. I curled up under a tree near the hatchlings, resolving to keep an eye on them since I hadn't seen any sign of their family.

I never completely went to sleep. The glowing mushrooms made me nervous.

In the morning (I took it to be morning because the hatchlings were awake - I couldn't see the sky through the brambly boughs above me), I prepared to keep moving, offering to take the Skydancers with me if they wished to follow me to my destination: my homeland, the Viridian Labyrinth. They seemed eager enough to come, but as they tottered toward me, the silver one tripped over nothing and fell on his face. His sister giggled at him and pulled him back to his feet, but just as they had started walking again, both crumpled to the ground once more and lay there looking confused.

My blood ran cold as I watched them struggle to right themselves.

I'd seen some of the newest prisoners of Sporefall Hollow - usually travelers who happened by looking for food and shelter, and never left.

In the earlier stages of their infection, they could barely keep themselves upright.

This allowed the Blight's further-gone victims, fully under the control of the mycelia, to transport the afflicted deeper into the lair. There, they would inhale yet more spores, and the spores already inside them could safely grow into the visceral hyphae that permeate my clanmates.

Looking at the Skydancers, it occurred to me that just because I wasn't infected didn't mean I wasn't contaminated.

It was then that I realized, with a horrible sinking feeling in my chest, that my "escape" was no mistake.

The Wyrmwound Blight was experimenting.

I can never leave the Hollow.

In my despair, I scribbled down this morning's entry in my journal, gathered up the Skydancers I had carelessly infected, and began walking home. I couldn't leave them out in the wilderness. The Blight has to remain quarantined for as long as possible.

The Mold King was sitting motionless outside the entrance to the lair when I arrived. His face was frozen in the Blight's characteristic toothy grin, and Rhizopus was grooming the mushrooms growing from his neck.

I wasn't fooled. Sure enough, when I came closer, with the Skydancers asleep on my back, I could see that he was watching me, his dilated pupils tracking my movements as I trudged down the hill and collapsed onto the fleshy, fungal ground.

I don't remember when I woke up, but Rhizopus and the Skydancers were gone, and Cyathus was crouched in front of me, repeating my name. The crown was off his head, and the light was back in his eyes, but I was wary all the same. When he asked what was wrong, I muttered something about working myself too hard on a hunting trip and staggered inside to my chamber, where I sit now, writing this.

I have made a terrible mistake. May the Gladekeeper forgive me.

---

To whomever is reading my journal:

Something terrible has happened to me. To all of my clanmates. I am the only one aware of it.

Now that you have my book, and you have read of our fates, I implore you:

You need to stop the Wyrmwound Blight from spreading, or it will only get worse. I fear its final goal is the contamination of all of Sornieth. Destroy it before that happens.


It needs to be cut off at the source.


Whoever you are, find help.


Bring them to Sporefall Hollow.


Kill the Chamberheart.



Kill us all.




Please.

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