š„ Chapter 4: Nest Refinements
š April 17th, 89 BCE ā Early Spring š±
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A week had passed, and Koshik couldn't shake the haunting images of theĀ stone-skinned beastĀ and the strange nest it was building. The rest of the tribe had fled to safer ground, their fear too great to ignore, but Koshik couldn't stay away. He returned to the shore once more, drawn by an urge he couldn't explain.
š¦ The Creature's Return
The creature with skin like wet rock was still there, still following its strange rhythm, rising from the water, retreating, returning. But today, something had changed.
Koshik crept toward the nest, his eyes widening as he approached the rough wall of piled stone, broken where the earth had been torn open. The 10-by-10-meter opening that had once been jagged and rough had transformed. Where there had been a gap in the stone, there now stood a smooth, graceful arch. It was perfectly shaped, as though the rock itself had been molded rather than torn. The stone around it gleamed with a strange, almost unnatural sheen, and Koshik's heart raced as he examined it.
It looked... wrong. Too precise. Too perfect.
The archway was framed with what appeared to be massive doors, their surfaces smooth and dark. Koshik squinted, trying to make sense of it. The surface was glossy, black, and polished, like obsidian, with a faint shimmer. The doors themselves were enormous, towering, and Koshik couldn't even guess how they could move.
Circling at a cautious distance, he found that three of the great gaps he had once seen in the wall were now sealed in the same way, each with a towering, flawless gate like the first. The fourth, the one that faced the far western waters, was hidden now by the high curve of the wall and the lay of the land. But Koshik remembered where it had been. He knew there were four.
Beyond the walls, nothing was visible. Whatever theĀ stone-skinned beastĀ was building inside was hidden from sight. The only movement came from the beast itself, gliding between the nest and the water with the same tireless purpose as before.
Koshik lingered at the edge of the shore, uneasy but fascinated. The nest had changed again, and though he could not see its heart, he could feel that something inside was taking shape.
š¦ Legends of the Beast
That evening, Koshik returned to the tribe. The fire was low, shadows stretching across the elders' faces. The others were still uneasy, but the panic of the past days had begun to fade.
"I've been back to the nest," Koshik began, his voice steady. "The gaps in the walls are gone. In their place are great stone archways, smooth, perfect curves, and each one has massive black doors. They shine like obsidian, but with metal beneath, and I don't know how they move them."
The elders shifted uneasily. "And the creature?" one asked.
"It's never come near us, never even looked our way," Koshik replied. "It's focused on the earth, tearing it apart, hoarding the soil and stone. We don't matter to it."
Silence followed, the weight of his words settling in. One elder murmured, "So... it's not here to harm us?"
"Exactly. Whatever it's building, it's bigger than us."
The mood shifted. Tension eased into a cautious hope. A sharp-eyed elder spoke: "Then maybe we can go back, gather what we left, without fear."
"Not yet," another said thoughtfully. "We'll move further from the nest, but we won't hide forever."
Relief stirred in Koshik's chest. The creature wasn't harmless, but it wasn't hunting them either.
"We don't have to live in fear," he said quietly. "We just need to keep our distance. We'll return when the time is right."
The elders nodded. This time, the tribe would move by choice, not in desperate flight.
šŖØ The Pillar of Stone
Two months had passed since the creature first arrived. Weeks passed in uneasy peace before the next change came. When Koshik returned to the shore, he froze. A tall, narrow column now rose above the nest's walls, a stone pillar unlike anything he had ever seen. Dark, smooth blocks were stacked with an uncanny precision, as though the rock had been grown rather than laid.
It stood just inside the wall, slender but unwavering, reaching toward the sky. To the tribe, it was simply the Pillar of Stone, a feature both alien and unsettling. There was no sound of construction, only the quiet lap of water and the faint murmur of movement somewhere inside.
Koshik watched for hours. No smoke, no scent, no new disturbance, just the strange pillar keeping silent watch over the nest.
Two days later, Koshik returned and saw the change immediately. Smoke curled from the pillar's crown, thick, dark, and slow to rise. It drifted on the breeze, heavy with an unfamiliar tang that clung to his tongue.
The nest was no longer quiet. Deep, rhythmic pounding echoed from within, punctuated by the grind of stone and sharp metallic clanks. The noises came in bursts, as if some vast, hidden task were underway.
By nightfall, a faint, unnatural glow bled into the sky from behind the walls. It pulsed steadily, almost like the heartbeat of the nest itself, casting brief silhouettes of the wall's jagged upper edges. It was not the flicker of firelight, but something steadier and stranger, and it made the air feel charged, as if holding a storm.
The pillar continued to breathe smoke into the night, and the sounds of work never truly ceased, only softening after sunset before returning at dawn.
Koshik lingered longer than he had before, unable to shake his curiosity. The shapes and patterns he glimpsed above the wall no longer looked like the mindless churn of a beast. There was order now, an unsettling, deliberate order. The more the nest took form, the more certain he became that this was something beyond the creature's nature.
The pillar kept smoking, the glow brightened each night, and the strange noises never ceased. Weeks passed, and Koshik found himself returning more often, drawn by changes he could barely glimpse from the shore. Then, one dawn, as the water lay still and the mist began to lift, something else appeared on the horizon...
š¾ No Longer a Beast?
That evening, Koshik stood once more before the elders. He spoke of the great stone archways they had already discussed, and of the newest sight, a tall, narrow pillar rising from within the walls. At first, it had been still and silent, but now, dark smoke poured from its top, drifting over the water.
"It is no beast's doing," one elder murmured, watching the fire. "Stone shaped like that is made, not born."
The others nodded slowly. The tribe had grown used to strange sights along the distant shore, but the pillar unsettled them in a new way. It was proof that whatever worked behind those walls was still building, still changing the land. Yet it had never once turned its gaze toward them.
"We keep our distance," another elder said at last. "But we keep watching. It's not acting like a beast anymore."
The thought sank in slowly, like a stone in deep water. The fear that had once clung to them loosened, replaced by something far more dangerous, and far more tempting. Curiosity. And with curiosity came more eyes; in the days that followed, more of the tribe took turns at the shoreline, eager to glimpse whatever change might come next.
šŖļøĀ The Spirit of the Air
It began as a shadow over the western water. At first, the tribe thought it might be a storm cloud rolling in at dawn, drifting slowly and steadily, its shape too solid to be mist. But as it neared, the outline sharpened into something they had no name for, a vast shape gliding above the surface of the Sound, silent except for a faint hum that came and went with the wind.
It was no bird. It was no spirit of wind or beast of the sea. It was something else entirely. The thing moved with deliberate grace, sails unfurled, great sheets of dark cloth billowing high above a hull the length of many canoes. Sunlight struck the fabric and made it glow faintly, as if the sky itself were carrying it. The masts rose like slender trees, rigging taut, every line and knot precise. It advanced not in haste, but as if it owned the air, as if this arrival was meant to be seen.
Closer now, details emerged. The hull gleamed with smooth planks and bronze fittings that flashed when the light caught them. Along the rail, figures moved with the calm precision of practiced laborers, men and women alike, their motions steady and purposeful. They did not row. They did not steer as the tribe understood it. The vessel simply glided.
At the prow, a carved woman leaned forward, arms outstretched as if to greet the world. Her hair flowed back in the wind, her face serene, her gaze fixed forever ahead. Even from the shore, the craftsmanship stole the breath, lines so fine they could have been shaped by the gods themselves.
The watchers on the beach said nothing at first. Their throats were tight with awe and unease. The people aboard were no gods, but their discipline and silence made them seem more than mortal. No one waved. No one shouted. They simply looked ahead, intent on their destination.
The great vessel passed overhead, the morning sun flashing across its smooth black hull. Its shadow rippled over the tide flats and vanished into the mist, leaving behind the tang of salt and strange oils.
The Leviathan did not turn toward them. Its course was steady, straight toward the great walled nest. Without slowing, it crossed the last stretch of water, rose slightly on its unseen power, and descended into the city beyond the high stone walls.
The natives watched it disappear, the masts and sails sinking below the parapets until only the faint tips of the highest rigging were visible. They stood in silence, the waves lapping at the shore.
Koshik turned toward the others, but the words would not come. It was an elder who finally broke the quiet.Ā "It is not a beast's den," he said, his voice low but certain. Heads turned. "It is a place of men," the elder continued, gesturing toward the city. "Not like us, but men all the same. Those walls, the pillar, that ship, they are the work of hands, not claws."
The truth settled over them like silt in a quiet bay. The fear that had once clung to them loosened, replaced by something more dangerous and more tempting: curiosity.