#toglings

[deer-head-xiris]

Introducing Toglings, my first homebrew DND race!! They’re snail-like beings that descend from a giant slug demon. This is a fully open species, make as many Toglings as you'd like! I only ask that you link back to me when making them so I can see everyone’s beautiful creations!

Here are their homebrew stats!! https://www.dndbeyond.com/races/1378243-togling 

And while this is a free to use species, if you’d like to support my work and/or have half the work done for you, I’ve put up a PSD of Togling base line art on my Ko-fi for only $5! https://ko-fi.com/s/c66e42c703 

[ultimate-green-day-song-bracket]

ROUND 4 BREAKDOWN: TOP 5 POLLS BY ENGAGEMENT

seven vs evermore (47/53) - 361 votes

exile vs Our Song (51/49) - 193 votes

You're Losing Me vs Delicate (42/58) - 176 votes

Would've, Could've, Should've vs You're On Your Own, Kid (49/51) - 169 votes

Fearless vs I Did Something Bad (52/48) - 163 votes

[trout-scout]

✨avast ye✨

As I begin to post more original fiction online, I thought I’d toss this link to my Ko-Fi up as well. I write for the joy of it and it’s been absolutely wonderful to hear the response from the lovely folks out there. 

If ever you’ve read my works or clapped eyes on the once-in-a-blue-moon visual art I’ve sent out into the aether, consider flinging a few dollars my way (or doubloons, or drachma, or large discs of polished abalone shell, or lei, or whatever you have in your pockets). It would mean the world to me and would allow me to continue updating and writing!

https://ko-fi.com/lucytroutscout

Take a look at my original fiction, found here (finished series, in update progress):

https://books-of-the-great-leviathan.tumblr.com/

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2947155

Or if you’re a Resident Evil Village enjoyer, here’s some juicy fic (saints of warding series, Burial):

https://archiveofourown.org/users/toothybeastie

All for FREE...that’s right, get it while it’s hot.

Thanks again, and shares/reblogs warm my dead heart!

Some pictures of dragons below the break jff:

he’s not a dragon but i felt bad leaving him out

New dragon 👀

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 40- Azare

***

Azare watched their small schooner's sails fill with wind, watched their witch swoop low over the rigging, cut stark against the blue light.

The Great Leviathan.

It filled the sea and swelled it; waves crashed up the sand, drowning the reek of burning bodies and half-swamping his Witchhunters. They backed up the beach, collecting in close tight file like they'd been trained to do, rifles and blades lowered to fight. But none of them, not Ziva, not Azare himself, had been trained for this.

He looked out, into the incandescent heart of that blue light, and saw it.

A form. A creature. His mind tried to grasp it, fought to fathom its scale. It clawed and stuttered and failed. The Great Leviathan seemed to cruise beneath the surface of the water, but at the same time it was bigger than the sea, filling it entirely: not a whale, not exactly, but the current-carved ocean too, the shape of the sky and the stormclouds, the vast rushing spill of the sea climbing in stronger and higher waves up the beach.

"Sir," Ziva shouted.

The aurora brightened, distant and then not distant, following the Leviathan. Prism light flickered down the long, smooth arc of the beast's spine; its fin parted the waves, and it arched higher than the island, scar-hewn black hide, the glistening shadow of muscle moving the vast and terrible machine that was its body. The smell of salt and storms grew stronger, a pressure against Azare's senses, the approaching god a weight on the fragile surface of Azare's mind.

Oh, Margaux, he thought, amidst the rush of wind and water and the god's form parting the sea, if only you were here to see this.

"Sir!" Ziva cried again, and grabbed him, her fingers digging into his forearm. Azare tore his eyes from the Leviathan and toward her. Her lip bled from a gash, earned somewhere in the battle. Her hair was a wind-whipped fury around her face. Her eyes reflected the blue light in sparks and glints. She was beautiful, she was terrible. All things at once. All things in balance. "You're letting them go?"

"They're not our concern," Azare shouted back. "The whale is all that matters now. Get to the longboats. We can intercept it before they do."

The longboat reared and bucked on the waves, half-swamped. Oars juddered in the rowers' hands, nearly torn from their grip. The sky swirled like a hurricane overhead, luminescent blue, flashes of too-bright stars visible through the ragged clouds. The Mistfox reared too, swaying and groaning on the swells. Wind whipped through Azare's hair as he climbed aboard. Their witch stood on deck, swathed in chains, his arms thrust outward, his eyes closed and his body shaking from the strain of keeping the winds at heel.

His eyes sprang open as Azare closed in.

"Take us out to the whale," Azare ordered. "Now."

"You feel it," the witch said. "Don't you? You feel it coming. And you're wondering if you can do what you came here to do. Such bloody work."

The witch's gaze flicked to the bolt cannon on the bow. It stood, silhouetted black against the sky, jutting over the Mistfox's prow like some great predator lunging for its prey. The twin fellfoxes shone vivid blue. Witchhunters supported the javelin crate between them, two to each side, carrying the crate steady despite the pitch and roll of the Mistfox.

"Kill a god," the witch said. "Not an easy thing to do."

Azare grabbed the witch's chains. He yanked tight, wrenching the iron collar round the witch's neck. Its edge cut into his pale skin. The witch's golden eyes sprang wide. Lightning arced and crackled between the Mistfox's masts, spirit-fire and feylight, casting an eerie glow over the rippling sails. Azare felt the thrum of power in the deck under his feet, the spatter of rain against his back as the storm strained at the witch's control.

"Take us to the whale," he snarled. "Or I pull this tighter and snap your neck."

"Ghost on your back," the witch whispered. "Claws in your heart."

"Remember your promises, witch."

A smile fluttered over the witch's face, showing the sharp points of his teeth. "And you should remember yours."

Azare's grip trembled. He shoved the witch away, and the boy stumbled, chain scraping chain, his skinny body bent nearly double under their weight.

For Estara.

Azare turned before the witch could rise and felt the pressure in the air shift. The sails lifted, swelling taut as the Mistfox met the wind. The blue light swept closer: nearly two miles out by his estimate, and nearing by the second. Valere's schooner was a black scrap on the surface of the sea, almost at the first tendrils of blue radiance.

"Ready the bolt cannon!" Azare roared. "All hands, prepare to sail, prepare for hard winds! We are all of us children of Estara, and tonight, here on the edge of the world, we honor her! There has never been greater glory. There has never been a brighter horizon than that which we fight for, you, and me, and all of us. For our king. For our empire. For Estara!"

Shouts echoed him, from the throats of his soldiers, from Ziva, her voice harsh as a bird of prey's hunting call. For Estara.

Blue light flooded the Mistfox as it plunged ahead, loosed by the witch's winds, waves turned to mist and salt spray hissing against the ship's hull. The waves were vicious; there came the crack of breaking ropes as one spilled over the Mistfox's deck, tearing free a longboat and swallowing it down, lost to the sea. Two men heaved a javelin into the bolt cannon's toothed gears, winding back the firing mechanism. It locked into place. Now the machine seemed complete, vast twin bow-arcs sweeping to a deadly, humming point.

Like Luca Valere's harpoon, Azare thought grimly, his head down against the spray as he walked the deck, calling orders.

"Sir," called one of the men at the bolt cannon, "it's ready to fire."

"Not yet." Azare narrowed his eyes. "The beast's not close enough."

"Soon," Ziva breathed at his side.

She burned with some strange fire, her body tense, her eyes wide, filled with that brilliant blue glow. Stars trembled in them- stars in the water, in the sky, Azare didn't know. The light filled the clouds, filled the sky, pulled the stars from their settings and cast them into the sea.

All things made one.

The Leviathan's back broke the surface again, an impossible expanse, scars like ravines, ancient wounds made by ancient horrors. Power pulsed in Azare's blood. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alive.

Do you remember what I told you about the Great Leviathan, Severin? The same thing I told you about the world.

The sea teemed with life: Azare looked down as a vast shape cruised by and saw the ocean filled with creatures, like the Leviathan's coming had shaken out the skirts of the world and gathered all its beasts in this singular span of sea. Sharks, and flat gliding rays, and monster fish he had no name for,  entire shoals of herring winking like stars. Phosphorescent things half-flower and half-squid danced on the currents. Platefish with great crushing jaws swam inches below the surface, and even the armored gray flanks of sea-orks gleamed in the Leviathan's light. Their tusks jutted above water as they breached and snorted and shook their massive heads, venting their lungs into the air. Blow-spume spattered the decks, hot with breath and glimmering blue. The waves lifted like fortress walls, enormous breakers to shatter masts and men alike.

Gods are in balance.

Just as the world is in balance.  

Flukes rose, sliding from beneath the ocean. Azare could not look away from the Leviathan. A wound gouged a half-moon from its right fluke, edges ragged and crusted with ancient scar. He smelled it, the weird animal reek of it, heady and salty and living musk. All too real. This beast was flesh as much as it was divine.

Balance.

He remembered Luca Valere clutching his dying sister, Sirin's eyes as she stared him down, prepared to kill him, to kill herself in the doing of it.

He remembered Cereza, the princess whose death he'd engineered. A child, clinging so ferociously to life despite the curse crushing it from her.

Emotion rose, tangled like it always was, a razor snarl inside him. He remembered Alois in the corridor of Pavaloir Tower, the last time he'd seen his son alive. Alois's eyes, so like his mother's, had shone with such hope. He remembered being young with Daval, laughing, sparring, the brilliance of his friend's smile, the surety they would fight together forever. He remembered the first time he'd seen Alois, a sleeping baby, fragile and defenseless.

How the world seemed to break, then: all hopes thrown aside for this child, his son sleeping in Margaux's arms. How he'd broken the world again, and again, for Daval, for Estara, for duty and honor and loyalty, for the love of a dead woman, for all he had thought was right.

For Estara.

For Estara.

He had thought his loyalty was just, pure as Bellana's light. But it was dead inside, a devouring rot at the heart of him.

All things in balance, Severin.

"Keep her steady," Ziva cried. She strode toward the bolt cannon, the sleet soaking her curls. "No faith lost now, Witchhunters. We're so close-"

Azare reached out and caught Ziva's wrist.

Ziva jerked back and spun, wrenching her arm from Azare's grip. Her eyes narrowed. "Captain, what by all Saints-"

"Not yet," Azare said.

"What do you mean not yet? We're in range." She swept a hand toward the Leviathan. "We can take the monster down now. We can end this now, sir, in one shot. One damned shot."

"No," Azare said.

She stepped toward him, her eyes still wide, still burning blue. He took her by the shoulders. Spray rained across them as the Mistfox cleaved closer. He felt Ziva's heartbeat under her skin, the shiver of her muscles. She wanted this. She wanted to see the ocean set on fire. This was her life coming to a point, all her fury and all her pain at last made worth it.

Azare's heart blazed with love, and fear, all the things he'd once kept locked so deep inside him.   Ziva's eyes and her beautiful face were inches from his.

"I saw you," she shouted. "I saw you let them go-"

"None of that matters," Azare said. His hands found her face and held it, his fingers wound into the dense, wet tangle of her hair. Ziva's fingers braceleted his wrists. "Look at it, Ziva."

He turned her head so they both looked toward the coming Leviathan. Valere's ship was no longer visible amidst the waves.

"Look at it," Azare said again. "We can't destroy it. Not for Estara. Not for anything."

"Have you forgotten your vows? We both swore them. I swore them at the feet of Bellana herself. At any cost, sir, at any sacrifice-"

"I remember them. And I am defying them."

"Captain," Ziva said. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes shining. "We have a mission."

"Damn the mission," Azare said. He turned Ziva's face toward him again. "Do you understand? We kill it, we kill everything. All mercy. All hope. It made the world, Ziva."

Her nails dug into his wrists so hard they cut in. "How long, sir? How long have you doubted the mission?"

"I don't know. A long time, I think." Tears streaked her skin with silver. Azare stroked her face with his thumb, wiping them away. "Not long enough."

"The king-"

"Daval can have his empire," Azare said. "I'm done with it, done with his wars and his vengeance. We can leave. You, and me. We can be anything. We can be free."

Her mouth trembled. Her hands left his wrists, climbing to his chest, to his face, cupping one cheek. Her skin was so warm. A sob choked him. He needed her, needed to gather her to him, to hold her and be with her and rest, pure and sweet and unbearable. Twenty years he'd fought alongside her, watching her rise. All those years with her wasted, all of them dedicated to nothing. Soldier's oaths. War, and blood, and sand. Dead men, and fire, and children weeping in the dark. How much else had they lost, in this campaign of dust?

The blue light brightened. It cascaded. It illuminated her, glory, glory. He heard the Leviathan's song, then, shuddering from below, more feeling than sound.

Ziva heard it too. Her eyes creased, as if holding back some great strain. "You," she echoed. "And me."

"Yes. Yes."

"All this time."

"I know. I am so sorry-"

"Severin." She drew closer, her hand still cupping his face. She traced the line of his cheekbone, his lower lip. Her eyes still shone with tears, refracting the Leviathan's light.

"Severin," she said again, and he heard the rush of feeling in her voice as if for the first time. There was no more fear. All had turned to starlight inside him.

Azare pulled her face to his and kissed her. Her lips were chapped and warm against his; he tasted blood from her split lip, the rasp of scar, the softness of her skin under his fingertips. Ziva's lashes fluttered against his face, light as moth wings.

They half-parted, a bare thread of wind snaking between them. Not for long. With a soft oh she twined closer, lips parting, deeper, harder, brilliant, all of him alight.

His mouth left hers, and the wind returned, the light, the roar of the ocean. The Leviathan's song peaked, a wave of sound.

"Ziva," Azare murmured.

She smiled, and it transformed her: no hook of a grin, no reservation, just that smile like sunlight.

"Severin," she said. He felt her pulse quicken under his hands, felt another wave of whalesong, so close it shivered in her eyes. "I've loved you for so long."

Cold slid into his heart.

Azare stared down at Ziva's dark eyes, the shifting veils of blue in them, and at her fading smile. He couldn't breathe. Cold was inside him, and pain, a white spear of it straight through him. He tried to draw breath, and the pain sharpened. He looked down, between them, as heat spread under his uniform.

Her hand gripped the bone hilt of her plain knife.

Her knife.

In his heart.

He looked up at her again. Her smile was gone, her eyes wide. No tears anymore- just traces of salt lingering on her cheeks.

"But I've loved Estara longer," she said.

Whalesong rose. Azare heard it stronger than before. Dark pushed in at the edges of his vision. He staggered forward, closer to her; the knife slid deeper but he felt no pain, just pressure, just the cold of it in him. So much cold. Had it been cold before? He didn't remember. He held Ziva, her shoulders, her hands. They were slick with his blood, and red to the wrists. The world became narrow. All he saw now was her face.

She turned, knife still in him. Her hair lashed in the wind as she looked to the Witchhunters, ready at the bolt cannon.

"Fire!" she cried.

And she wrenched the knife from him, and shoved him, hard. Azare struck the gunwale and toppled over the side of the Mistfox, toward the heaving waves below.

He had no strength to resist. Ziva's face receded. He hit the water, hungry current pulling him down.

The next wave rolled over.

Azare sank, a plume of red trailing behind him. He closed his eyes. All became blue light and whalesong.

[ojktotologin]

[david-cheong]

TOGL Yippi Launched Yippi Biz: From Social App to Rewards Program

[wyfy-meltdown]

I'm not even going to sugar coat it when I say that the new models for the upcoming Spooky's update are ugly and goofy as shit...

LOOK WHAT THEY DID. LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO MY BOYS. AND LET'S NOT FORGET THE MOST EGREGIOUS ONE:

LOOK AT WHAT THEY DID TO POOR BAB. THEY FUCKING MASSACRED MY GIRL.

THIS IS THE ORIGINAL IN-GAME MODEL:

HOW DO YOU FUCK-UP SO HARD ON WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE AN UPGRADE???

I so sincerely hope you can togle which models you want or just choose not to update it because this might just ruin the game for me. Akuma Kira's original models were so good and gave the game such a unique style that this just feels like an insult. I love Spooky's Jumpscare Mansion so much and it's been a comfort game since 2016 for me, so I despise seeing something so awful happen to it.

[thatonegreenleaf]

hi togl, currently downloading all of your cas backgrounds <333 I was wondering where the hair from the business casual cas background was from? thanks!

I'm pretty sure It's the vega hair by @arethabee but it could also be their leah hair! <3

[jo3ydr3w]

What the fuck??

🕹

Our badges are togled ‘n, but t’ey aren’t showing up!

🎥

[acervo-de-memes]

transcrição:

"como falar certo aqui no sul:

cacetinho bandeclay tchunflay vina

tchóvis tchélvis togles scragbadun

bergamota jaugoféia pau de gelo mébous"

[juliusmode]

togle

[deer-head-xiris]

✨🪷EMOJI ADOPTS🪷✨

-PAYPAL ONLY

- Claim an adopt by comment or over DM!

-ONE ADOPT PER PERSON for the first 24 hours. If you have bought an adopt and there are still more available after the first day, you are welcome to purchase more of them if you wish (This rule is in place to offer a fair chance where possible)

-I will send you a paypal invoice for payment.  Please don’t pay until I approve. If payment isn’t sent within 24 hours, the adopt will be relisted

-Once you adopt a character, I'll send you the full-size unwatermarked transparent png, you may do with it as you please. However, if you wish to post it on your page or somewhere else, please put a link to my dA page or my other social media somewhere in the description so that people will know who made it!

-You may edit the character however you like

-NO REFUNDS, If you no longer wish to keep a character that you adopt from me, you can give it away, or resell it for the equal amount or less than what you paid for it!

1. ($130): Bought in advance on patreon by Claepots! 2. ($60): Bought by twitter user DoodTune 3. ($130): Bought by twitter user SkeletonWick

[ultimate-green-day-song-bracket]

TOGL ROUND 2, HEAT 5/7, GROUP 3/4

[tradmais]

Togle

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 42- Sirin

***

Holding Luca in a net of shadows, Sirin plunged into the water, twenty feet down in a cone of bubbles. He was dead weight in her arms. She kicked out, pulling her shadows tighter. Blood plumed from Luca's head as it lolled back, his eyes closed.

No, Sirin thought, panic beating in her chest. He'd drown in her arms if she didn't get him to the surface.

She kicked out again. The surface churned overhead. The currents drove her back down, spinning her in their merciless grip. Sirin let go of Luca, her shadows biting deep into his wrists like ropes, and clawed toward the light. She felt her power cringe inside her, shadows fraying in the light, but she raked out again, pulling herself from the choking embrace of the ocean and toward the surface, toward air.

A current swept past. Her shadows splintered. Luca slipped from their grasp, bubbles streaming from his mouth as he sank like a stone. Sirin grabbed his wrist; his weight pulled her down, down from the surface.

No-

Let him go and save herself. Hold fast, and drown with him at the bottom of the sea. The dead of Alkona weren't meant to meet water- ghosts of the drowned drifted forever in the deeps, grave-dolls uncarved, never to find peace.

Damn you, Valere. A scream built in her, worse than her burning lungs, her burning eyes. Not that.

Not Luca.

A hand gripped her wrist.

Sirin looked up as the hand tugged, heaving them from the sea and into air. Sirin erupted from the water, Luca clenched to her chest with her other arm, the both of them dragged over rough wood. Sirin heaved; water spilled from her mouth as she hacked her guts onto the deck, still clutching Luca with all her strength.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Sirin, it's all right. You're all right."

Sirin jerked her head up. For a moment her vision was a prism of tears and salt. It focused, and she blinked, and Cereza looked down at her.

Sirin hissed a breath, the cool air rough on her salt-abraded throat. Cereza knelt at her side, alive. The dark veins were gone, her pallor gone. Her hair was loose around her, a golden curtain limned in silver by the starlight. Overhead, the stormclouds had cleared. One of the triplet moons hung, a bright half-disc. Another was a ghost, a faint crescent, nearly invisible against the stars.

Sirin glanced around. They clung onboard the schooner's hull, broken and half-swamped and still afloat. A single spike of mast jutted into the sky, a ragged pennant of sailcloth fluttering as wind skimmed Sirin's cheeks. Niive crouched on the schooner's prow, wings half-furled. Her hands were raised, keeping the wind and the waves in balance, keeping the ship from capsizing. The sea was smooth to the horizon, swirling with the last remnants of the Leviathan's light. No sign of the Estaran ship. No sign of the whale.

Sirin knew, then, like a weight settling into her heart. They'd come too late. The Great Leviathan was gone.

"Are you all right?" Cereza asked.

Sirin shook her head. Her grief for the Leviathan could wait. Luca, she signed, and Cereza's eyes sprang wide with alarm.

"I..." she stuttered. She pressed her hands to his chest.  "I don't know...is he drowning? What do I do?"

Sirin pushed her aside and shoved Luca onto his back. His lips were parted, water streaming off him and soaking the deck. His hands were folded over his stomach as if hugging something to himself. Sirin pressed her fingers to his throat and felt his heartbeat, faint but there. A gash on the side of his head matted his hair with blood; he'd hit it on the gunwale as they were thrown overboard. Sirin glanced over it. Shallow. Head wounds always bled. She'd inflicted enough, and had enough inflicted on her, to know.

He wasn't breathing. No surprise there- he must have swallowed half the sea. He'd drown on the water in his lungs if she didn't do something.

She tipped his head back, hands shaking. Gently, her grandmother had said. She'd been called down for a child on the beach, dragged from the rock pool where he'd fallen, sprawled on the wet sand. Sirin tried to recall what she'd done, tried to remember the careful movements of her hands, the assurance with which she'd given the boy breath.

She wasn't her grandmother- she never would be- but here, now, she had to be enough. She clamped Luca's nose shut and took a deep breath of the warm breeze, her own lungs aching, her eyes burning.

Gently.

She pressed her mouth to his. Luca's lips were cold. All his skin was so cold. Two breaths, hissing through her and into him. She parted the kiss and searched his face again, shaking him a little. He didn't respond.

Breathe, Valere, she willed him. Your life still belongs to me. No ocean can kill you, not before I have my chance.

It was useless; he'd never breathe with the sea in his lungs. She had to force the water out of him. She seized his shirt and tore it open, pressing her palms to his bare chest. His pulse fluttered like a bird under her hands. Her shadows webbed through his skin, winding deep into his flesh.

Breathe, Luca.

The shadows tightened around him, inside him, and through them she felt his heartbeat, his struggle to breathe, the water in his lungs, his terror of dying. Sirin's resolve was stronger. She'd ended so many lives. This one she could save.

Breathe, damn you.

She needed him to open his eyes. She needed to tell him he wasn't alone. She needed to tell him he'd held onto her at the end, through fire and falling stars. She needed to tell him how much she hated his stupid broken nose.

She clenched her hands, and the shadows clenched too, driving the water from his lungs, up his throat and out of him.

Breathe-

He pitched upward, spine arching. An awful wet racking burst from him, and water spattered the deck. He keeled to the side, on his hands and knees, spewing seawater. Sirin knelt by him, holding him until he looked up. He blinked, recognizing her. He reached out for her, fingers brushing her cheek, her lips.

"Sirin," he whispered.

Sirin caught him before he fell. He slumped against her, all at once. Cereza scrambled to help her, and together she and Sirin dragged him up the deck, toward Niive crouched on the prow.

"Are you all right?" Cereza panted. Her skirts were sodden and ragged, but her hair, her skin, was radiant. Their weeks of travel had been erased: cuts, bruises, gauntness, gone.

Luca's voice was rough from saltwater. "Cee? You're...you're alive?"

"It's you we need to worry about-"

He reached for her. "You're alive," he said, his voice thick with wonder. His hand found her shoulders, her face, and then he was gathering her to him as she flung herself into his arms. Cereza was weeping, her brother's fingers tangling in her hair as he clung to her, his face buried in her shoulder, her cheek pressed to his, like she might never let him go again.

At last she did, though Luca's hand never left her arm, as if by holding onto her he could convince himself she was real.

"What in all Hells happened to you?" he managed. "You were dead, Cee."

Cereza glanced up at Niive, then twisted open the buttons at her collar. The wound was gone, the curse with it. Faint silvery scars remained, twisting like spellburn across her skin.

"I don't know," she murmured. "I was, yes. Quite dead. But I think the Leviathan saved me. Before it died, it spared me. It brought me back. And now..."

She pressed her hands to her head. "I feel...strange. I think it changed me, too."

"Changed," Luca echoed.

He still clenched his arm to his stomach, hand clasped over something. Now, Sirin could see it: a fluttering, a glow. Blue light, illuminating Luca's hand and arm from beneath, astral blue, witchlight blue, blue as the Leviathan's blood.

Luca, Sirin signed. What is that?

He lifted his hand. The creature clasped to him blinked up at her with round blue and gold eyes. The glow faded into glittering motes on its dense black fur, now sleek with damp. An infant thing no bigger than a fox kit, all webbed paws and flat tail, tiny cuspid teeth displayed as it opened its mouth and yawned.

Luca gently ran his hand down its back. It snuffled, nosing upward to lick his chin, his cheek, the gash in his forehead.

The wound glistened. No- it shimmered. It glowed. The edges of the wound drew together, skin  reforming.

Healing.

The light faded, and so did the wound. Only traces of blood remained. Luca touched the faint scar, and the creature snuffled again, chirruping in delight. Sirin glimpsed the many-colored glimmer of the aurora in its wet fur, and all at once she knew.

She pressed her hands to her mouth.

"The Leviathan..." Cereza began. "The Leviathan was dead."

"No." Niive knelt at Luca's head, smoothing aside his hair with clawed fingers. "The Great Leviathan is not dead."

She looked up, and Sirin saw the hope in her golden eyes. But it was Luca who spoke, who drew the little creature closer, who lifted his face to the stars and smiled.

"It's not dead," he echoed. "This is the Great Leviathan."

*

END

*

OF BOOK 1

[wjdexclusives]

14K Yellow Gold 4mm Rolo Toggle Chain Necklace 18"

https://wjdexclusives-speed.sentree.io/p/necklaces-pendants/necklaces/14k-yellow-gold-4mm-rolo-toggle-chain-necklace-18/

14K Yellow Gold 4mm Rolo Toggle Chain Necklace 18"

Magnificent and majestic. A pure 14k yellow gold rolo toggle necklace worthy of a queen. A beautiful human deserves the most precious gift on earth – this stunning gold 4mm rolo togle necklace is crafted with extraordinary attention to detail and exceptional quality.

Product Specifics All specifications are approximate and may vary for the same model.

Weight (gm)

6.3

Metal

Yellow Gold

Metal Purity

14K

Finish

High Polished

Link Style

Rolo

Link Type

Hollow

Clasp Type

Lobster Claw

Length (inches)

18

Width (mm)

4

Crafted in

Europe

Style ID: 10068 ZF-L (internal use only): WJDRCG-RC13716-18