Terrabit
Terrarian
Chapter 1: " The Flood from the Desert "
Preface, Part I
We move ten centuries after the victory over the Monster, and two hundred years before humans began colonizing the island of Terraria.
The story takes place deep within the jungle, where almost no light reaches the ground, and trees and bushes grow alongside springs and small lakes.
At that time, two intelligent species lived there, competing for resources: the pygmies and the lizards.
Each had its own culture and traditions.
The pygmies were small but brave folk — courageous warriors whose society valued bravery and endurance above all.
The lizards were herbivorous creatures. They preferred peaceful coexistence in harmony with nature. The main strengths of their society were diligence and diplomacy.
For many centuries, they shared the territory of the jungle and rarely fought, as food was abundant.
But 150 years later, the unexpected happened. A powerful earthquake shook the entire island.
The ancient jungle bordered the Sandy Lands — a region once rich with rivers and lakes. Its surface teemed with life: from dinosaurs to lungfish-like sharks.
The tragedy struck early in the morning. Within an hour, giant cracks tore open the earth, and precious water drained beneath the sands, dragging hundreds of animals under the surface of the Sandy Lands.
Several funnels swallowed life in mere minutes, leaving behind only a few shallow puddles — which later merged into an oasis, a bastion of life amid the desert.
Later, this tragedy would be commemorated in an unusual way. Goblin historians wrote:
> “The familiar way of life of the goblins, who originally lived on the fertile lands of the Sandy Plains, was destroyed. Our strength and forging skills, once used in battles for meat, were now nearly turned against each other in civil war.
Soon we were forced to seek a new home. Small islands near Terraria were good enough for our scattered clans. Though we will always return to the Great Island for what we cannot produce ourselves — that is, everything except argharghakh weapons.
Twice a year we remember who we are and where we came from. A great emerald bowl filled with water is solemnly washed out, in memory of how life was washed away from our native world.
It is hardly worth mentioning, but still — some, whose sense of humor is duller than our bluntest sword, mockingly call our sacred bowl a terratoilet. This is offensive.”
The world is interconnected, and the systems of the Island form one living organism. Misfortune rarely comes alone.
Now riddled with pits, the Sandy Lands could no longer contain water — and the escaped floodwaters poured into the jungle, washing away and drowning one structure after another.
The pygmies suffered the most. Nearly all their leaf-and-branch huts were destroyed; half their food stores were ruined by mold.
Most of the fruits they had cultivated for centuries — and unknowingly domesticated — were wiped out.
Their way of life was disrupted. Everyone sought to protect their own land — or seize someone else’s.
The lizards especially excelled in this. Their physical strength and endurance let them defeat small pygmy groups and take their food.
The pygmies could not tolerate this. Above all, they wished to overcome their greatest flaw — their small size.
Six months after the flood, they began their research.
The pygmy leaders selected the most gifted herbalists and sent them in search of the recipe for the "growth potion."
Within a few days, the first prototype was created. A small bottle of orange liquid was poured onto a rabbit.
Contrary to expectations, the rabbit did not grow. However, after a few days, the leaves of the trees it ate began to grow unnaturally fast.
The growth was so rapid that a tree reached full size within days — and, astonishingly, it did not stop. Its trunk grew so wide that one could live inside it.
And so it became the new home of the pygmies.
Now they no longer feared floods or repairs. Trees, especially in the humid climate, grew quickly, and their root systems were so strong that not even a hurricane could uproot them.
The pygmies’ homes became magnificent forests. Each level served as a communal kitchen, a personal room, or a meeting place.
The highest branches made excellent archery posts — ideal for dropping large stones onto attackers.
But the main issue — the lack of food — still remained.
The giant trees consumed much water and were perfect for draining swamps, but despite their rapid growth they bore no fruit.
The lizards feared losing such a valuable resource. By then they had found, dug up, and transplanted every seedling, even the tiniest.
Of course, anyone unfamiliar with Terrarian botany might think trees grow from fruit — but Terrarian trees reproduce only through acorns that grow separately on the tree.
The lizards traded with the pygmies, exchanging small amounts of food for the precious gems the pygmies struggled to obtain.
***
Chapter 2: " The Sunken Merchant Fleet "
A calm, glassy sea. The sun sparkled in the morning waters. The clarity of the horizon was broken only by a few tiny dots in the distance.
— What do you see?
— Nothing. Nothing yet. Judging by the charts, the nearest stop won’t be for another couple of days.
The captain of a small merchant flotilla, Edward, was talking with his assistant, cabin boy, and simply his friend, Arthur.
— This heat is unbearable. I wonder if the other ships in the fleet are running out of fresh water as quickly as we are. Do you see any pirates on the horizon?
— No. As there were two of our ships, so there they remain. And even if there were pirates, the cargo we’re carrying—wooden crates, in my opinion—is far too cheap to risk a battle on the open sea for it… Seriously? Ten turtles, iron, copper, a couple of silver ingots, and sacks of bait? They really don’t trust you, do they? — Arthur laughed.
— Keep an eye on the course and don’t get distracted. In these troubled times, good iron is valued highly. You can forge things from it that save your skin in a hard moment no worse than gold. I’m telling you this as an experienced traveler. And that’s not bait—it’s turtle feed.
— Hey, cabin boy, what time is it? — he asked another sailor.
— It’s not time for the смен yet. In an hour, after your lunch break, I’ll relieve you.
— Have you eaten already?
— Yes, and fish too. I just kidding, ha-ha-ha. No, I was just smoking in the hold, thinking about the meaning of my life.
— Smoking? In the hold? Have you lost your mind? Or have you forgotten that besides all sorts of junk, our ship is packed to the brim with gunpowder? You’re putting us all in danger—and you can’t wait a couple of stops?!
— You mean a couple of weeks.
— In that case, I think I know who’ll be scrubbing the entire deck next week.
Time was nearing noon. The lookouts changed shifts, and those who had spent the whole morning under the scorching sun could finally rest in their cabin hammocks, gathering strength for the night watch. But by six in the evening, hurried footsteps suddenly echoed from the upper deck.
The door burst open.
— Captain! Dead ahead… land!
Everyone rushed to the edge of the deck. Indeed, quite suddenly, as if emerging from a pale mist, land appeared.
It certainly wasn’t on any of the charts. A mysterious island, with an incredible diversity of biomes, seemed to beckon the weary sailors. No one knew what riches these lands held, or why no one had known of them before, but one thing was absolutely clear: in just a few hours, one could forever inscribe one’s name in the glorious book of geographical discoveries.
— This is unbelievable. We can’t miss such an opportunity. Signal the ships—general assembly!
The vessels anchored closer to shore. Their captains boarded a longboat and gathered on one of the ships.
— So, gentlemen. We’ve been granted the greatest honor of becoming discoverers. And now we must decide what to do. Our ships are loaded with all kinds of goods, and we’re already halfway home, so it makes sense not to take risks. On the other hand, this island is vast and beautiful. We could sail around it twice to chart its shores. So let’s simply vote.
Who is in favor of circumnavigating the island and gathering information about it?
Four of the five captains raised their hands.
Who is against? Jake?
— Yes, I’m against it. A foolish idea. A ship could strike reefs; we have neither a depth gauge nor a professional ship’s carpenter in case of serious damage. But I understand your desire to become famous. I propose this: let all the most valuable items be loaded onto one ship. I’ll sail out toward the horizon and wait there, accompanied by one of your ships, until night. By then, you’ll have circumnavigated the island and returned to my ships, and we’ll continue our journey.
Hmm… is everyone ready to agree to this?
If so, then let’s be on our way.
Three ships separated from the group and began sailing around the island.
Jake waited. The sun once again lit up the horizon, gradually rising higher and higher. Minutes stretched like hours. Jake decided to take a nap to pass the time.
His sleep was restless. Nightmares plagued him. On a clear day, a terrible storm suddenly raged at sea. His fishing boat was tossed about like a splinter until it capsized and sank. He was already drowning when he realized he was dreaming and wished to become a fish. Surprisingly, it worked—he turned into a small dolphin and was no longer afraid of drowning. The storm ceased, the water became clear as before, when suddenly a school of sharks surrounded him. They drove him toward the shore, hoping to catch him in the shallows. He swam as fast as he could and managed to leap onto land, but he didn’t have time to turn back into a human. His dream ended with a violent blow to his head against the deck. The ship was hurled upward by a massive wave and slammed into the water with tremendous force. The entire crew rushed to see what had happened.
He opened his eyes after many hours of sleep. By his reckoning, at least ten hours had passed—but there were no ships in sight. Jake grabbed a spyglass, and a horrifying scene unfolded before him: masts torn to shreds and fragments of decks scattered here and there. An unexpected tsunami had instantly destroyed not only the ships but had also swept dozens of people into the open ocean.
The captain hesitated. Should he save his friends in distress, or preserve the precious treasures of the expedition he had prepared for many years?
— Lower the boats into the water! — the captain commanded.
The boats were prepared for launching. Two cabin boys jumped into them and began rowing. It seemed that some of the drowning could still be saved, when suddenly pink fins began approaching the wreckage. Powerful shark jaws dragged everything that still moved down into the depths.
The rescue attempts ceased. The boat was recalled, and Captain Jake—the only surviving captain—continued his trading voyage, a heavy stone in his heart, sailing away from the island.
***
Chapter 3: " Saved Twice "
The Coast.
One hour earlier…
A downpour and gusty wind formed a solid wall between the ships sailing toward one another.
-- Excellent work, lads, I’m proud of you,” Edward muttered.
-- This—this—oh, and this territory too? Is the island really that big?
-- Magnificent!
Methodically, piece by piece, using notes and sketches, the captains worked together to reconstruct the island’s coastline map. Some details didn’t match—because of the bad weather visibility was extremely poor—but the overall shape of the island was consistent in everyone’s data. To ensure the drawings wouldn’t be lost under any circumstances, a decision was made to reproduce them.
Black, orange, and red waterproof paints were carefully applied by the cartographers onto a high-quality sheet of leather.
-- At last. It’s finished.
Suddenly, laughter rang out on the deck. Everyone rushed to look toward the shore.
From a flimsy tent, soaked to the bone and sneezing loudly and comically, a man emerged.
Of average height, dressed in a blue cloak and a torn white shirt.
His unremarkable face, with beautiful blue eyes, was adorned with a bright ginger beard.
Leaning on a small cane, he approached.
-- Who are you?!
he shouted loudly, his voice slightly hoarse.
-- Brave sea wolves—and who are you? the crew members replied insolently in unison.
-- You may come ashore and find out who I am.
The man lit a fire, sat down on a log, and curiously examined the island’s guests. He smirked and walked to his small shack. From there he brought some raw fish and shrimp in sauce.
He began devouring them raw, sharing with anyone who wanted to try.
Everyone liked the fish. Its sweet, honey-like taste made them eat it whole and without stopping.
-- I’ve never tasted fish this sweet in my life.
-- Amazing seafood… truly amazing!
-- What a disgusting thing these jellied shrimp of yours are! Bitter and sour at the same time!
-- I’ve eaten worse just to regain my strength… necessity forces one to adapt. I didn’t end up here of my own free will either. I didn’t live here before—got here more or less by accident. My boat… was smashed to pieces. None of my companions survived. It was during a storm.
-- How long ago was that?
-- However long ago it was—hurry. In eight minutes you might meet the same fate.
Surprisingly, the downpour stopped. The sun began to emerge from behind the clouds, and the air filled with the scent of recent rain.
The stranger pulled some kind of jar from his bag.
-- This is a storm in a bottle. The enchanted water inside reacts to the rhythm of the nearby ocean. Judging by everything, a massive seismic impulse deep below is already creating a tsunami far out at sea.
-- And how many disasters have you predicted with fizzy water? These huge ships aren’t boats. They’re heavy, unwieldy, and expensive. Very expensive. Are you suggesting that in dead calm we all squeeze onto one ship and start rowing?
-- I’m offering you a chance to save your asses!
the stranger shouted, clearly losing patience.
-- All right, cast off, lads,
-- barked another captain—Karl, --
In any case, we shouldn’t linger.
-- Oh, and here—take this. Payment for the food and fish gifts.
A bundle of clothes was tossed toward the stranger.
-- But you—whoever you are—you’re not sailing with us. A neurotic on board is a bad omen… ha!
They hadn’t sailed even five hundred meters when a wave appeared beyond the horizon.
At first it was just a small crest, but it grew rapidly—large, then gigantic—until an eight-meter wall of water overturned and smashed everything at sea…
The impact was enormous. Edward smashed his head, but gathering all his will, he kept fighting for his life and swimming toward the shore.
A bloody trail stretched behind him, attracting predators, but he was an excellent swimmer.
Reaching the shore first, he began rescuing the others. Firing his pistol at pink sharks, he tried above all to save Arthur, who was being quickly swept sideways by the current.
Meanwhile, the stranger behaved chaotically. He ran back and forth along the beach, wasting precious time, until he finally found a stick. He returned to the water and tried to extend it to another drowning sailor—but the stick was quickly snapped in half by a shark’s powerful jaws.
-- A child! There’s a child in the water!
Arthur screamed in shocked panic as he was nearly ashore.
And indeed, among the drowning was a little boy wearing a sun hat.
Forgetting everything else, Arthur—and then Edward after him—rushed into the water, unclear what they were even hoping for. Perhaps each of them would have been ashamed to be the one who was afraid to help a small boy, or perhaps Arthur feared missing with his pistol from such a distance. It was a moment of reckless, mad courage.
But the same swift current carried them farther and farther away… toward some cave.
Finding themselves at the bottom of the cave, where almost no sunlight reached, with severe muscle pain and nausea in their stomachs, they collapsed and fell asleep.
When they awoke, they felt a surge of strength and saw a peach and a pineapple beside them. The cave was still dark, but now they could at least feel some measure of safety…
Meanwhile, the stranger rushed to the boy’s aid, swimming on a small plank with a little pot in his hands. Attacking sharks received burns to their snouts, and the youngster was saved.
The others were less fortunate. Only two stood on the shore.
-- It wasn’t in vain. It worked,” the stranger seemed to frown and smile at the same time.
-- Yes, mister, thank you for saving me,” the boy said, recovering from shock.
-- By the way, my name’s Sam, but my friends just call me Sammy. Dad told me not to play hide-and-seek, especially hiding on other people’s ships—and I… didn’t liiiisten.” Sammy burst into bitter tears.
-- You can eat, Sammy. There’s food in my tent. Welcome.
I’m sorry for your loss, truly—but I think we’ll manage.”
-- My name is Runalt. Yes, it’s a strange name, I know. I’ll make a fire.
Sammy fell asleep, nervously sniffling in his sleep, to the gentle crackling of damp, smoking branches in the fire. Runalt covered him with the blue cloak Karl had given him not long ago.
-- Uncle Runalt will go and gather some new, dry branches so we’ll be warmer,” he said—but Sammy slept soundly and didn’t react.
-- Uncle Runalt is going to meet the one he considers merely a pawn in his gambit. A foolish pawn dreaming of becoming a queen -- he repeated even more quietly, clenching his teeth.
And Runalt set off. Into the desert, which even after the downpour remained just as dry.
He sat down on the sand in a small oasis.
***
Chapter 4: " The Long-Awaited Villainy "
Runald sat on the shore of a small oasis. Just imagine—before the first earthquake, this had once been a sea. While waiting for nightfall, he tapped out some idle melody on the stones. A desert slime crept up to him—there had been many of them lately, especially after good rains.
Runald stopped tapping, but for some reason the slime simply began hopping around him, as if awaiting a command.
Then Runald tossed a stick away from himself, and the slime hopped off in the opposite direction.
“Come out, Fishron. I know you’re here.”
From the small lake, a gigantic creature began to surface—massive, tusked, with enormous saber-like teeth and a snout like a pig’s. Its glowing eyes betrayed a strange kind of joy. It was like the furtive delight of a subordinate when their superior sneezes awkwardly during an important meeting—a concealed, mischievous look mixed with schadenfreude.
“Greetings, greetings. I’ve done my part—now you do yours. How are you feeling?”
“I’m gradually recovering. My strength is returning, slowly but surely. Even so, the energy I have now is already enough to subjugate the minds of the simplest organisms—like slime.”
“Now to business. I detonated one of the shadow spheres using a bomb fish and freed the ancient mage for you. You know his dying wish—revenge against the dryads. I believe we’re capable of fulfilling it. After that, his body became yours, and now you’re here.
I’ve already initiated a council gathering on this matter.
The oceanic earthquake and the tsunami that happened recently confirm that I didn’t cheat and that my seal was lifted.
I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. What about you?”
“Yes, I will grant you your share of power in the lunar oceans—but they’re not ready yet.
To melt them requires immense energy. Acquiring that energy is my goal.”
“By the way, about your goals. Destroying the Wall of Flesh and freeing magic… I don’t understand what we’ll do if the Council decides to imprison the monster again.”
“It’s not only about stopping the monster’s growth. When it is released, the magic of light and darkness truly will be unleashed, but…
Dark magic has a single owner. Light magic has many—and not all of them are alive.”
“Magical power is inherited. There has never been a time when such vast magic was ownerless.”
“Then we’ll be the first. We’ll have to work hard.”
“I can’t manage this alone, and you know it. Where is my share for what I’ve already done?”
“I’m in no hurry. I’m searching for allies. Enjoy what you received today.”
“So, to continue my thought… Light magic will partially lose its owners. That means part of it will burst into the world like an explosion, changing it. The energy will settle in fields, meadows, and most importantly, deep within the earth.
A pure concentrate of magic, in the form of magical minerals, will serve as an energy source.
As I obtain this energy—one way or another—from this world, I will fulfill my promises.
And as promised, I cleared the coast of ships today. The seabed is littered with treasures.”
“I wouldn’t call that treasure. Iron and wooden crates, and only a little gold? How did that happen?
Did you screw up? That’s not much—although, as a lover of refined cuisine, I must admit the things they brought were rather tasty.”
“Oh yes, you bite eagerly at bait—you are a fish.”
“A witty remark, Mr. ‘Virtue.’
Help them? And miss a ship carrying valuable cargo?
Miss witnesses to what happened?”
“I’m cautious. Greed is the oldest and most common mistake. I try not to be greedy—even when it costs me. I may not be perfect at it, but it’s better than letting shiny trinkets rob me of my sanity entirely.
As for you—you destroyed a shadow sphere, disrupted the balance of magical power, and temporarily lifted your seal from the imprisoned monster. How you divert suspicion from yourself doesn’t concern me, but under no circumstances should you become a witness yourself.
The reward is worth it.”
“Deal.”
“Deal—though hardly by hand, since neither of us has hands.”
At that moment, Runald’s right arm stretched toward the offered fin. The hand began to twitch, and the skin on Runald’s palm tore open. From the center of his hand, through the paling flesh, a white tentacle emerged and soon wrapped twice around Fishron’s fin.
“Remember our agreement. I need resources—for the development of my lunar kingdom, and for the wars of the lunar kingdom.”
“A pleasure doing business with you. Farewell. It’s time for us to part ways.”
The two left the desert. Runald returned to the dying campfire. Sammy sniffled as the cold crept in.
Runald tossed his staff into the fire. At once, dozens of slimes rushed toward it like mad. Bright flames flared up quickly, and sparks flew in all directions.
Runald hurried to snatch the staff from the fire to prevent the flames from growing stronger. Burned up to the elbow, he barely held back a scream of pain.
“A week of regeneration! Damn it—saving strength again. Some kind of magical diet. All magic goes into regeneration.”
Sammy began to wake up.
“Diet?” he yawned.
“I know a lot about fish. Though I wasn’t the one catching it—it was those deckhands overboard. Did you burn yourself? How did that happen?”
“Diet? Oh yes… sometimes I’m so clumsy. I’d prefer shrimp—I like them very much. But for now… please catch us any fish at all.”
“But I don’t know how, and I don’t want to. I like drawing. We could just eat coconuts—there are lots of them on the ground after the earthquake.”
“Have you chosen death by starvation? I… I don’t like coconuts. While you’re here and your parents haven’t been found, I’m in charge. When you grow up, let some fool catch fish instead of you. This is for your own good.
You’ll make the fishing rod yourself. As you can see, I can’t help you with that right now—and I shouldn’t anyway, since I’m the savior of your hide.”
“Don’t be rude. You’re always like this when you get hurt. That’s your own fault—don’t take your clumsiness out on others. You’ll get your fishing rod. You’ll get your fish.”
“More like our fish, right? It’s… shared food, after all?”
***
Chapter 5: " Locked but Unbroken "
Preface, Part II
Continuation of Chapter 1.
…After the earthquake, the pygmies and lizardfolk began to fight each other from time to time.
The brave pygmies could not accept that they were now forced to mine ores for the lizardfolk—those cunning creatures who had so deftly turned the climate disaster to their advantage...
One day, while walking through the jungle, Brandon witnessed a terrible scene: two pygmies were fighting near a small stream.
— “I gathered this handful of silt!”
— “You gave it to me! But the diamond I found in that silt is mine now, since you sold it to me!”
In the end, one snatched the diamond from the other and ran away—and that was hardly surprising. Among the lizardfolk, a pygmy thief who brought such a valuable find could earn himself a week’s worth of food.
Brandon approached the defeated pygmy and, without hesitation, used a bit of magic. Now, beside the poor, weak creature lay three large, juicy mandarins.
“He’ll be happy when he wakes up,” thought Brandon.
He sat down on a fallen tree and waited for his magical energy to recover.
“What would that poor fellow do without me? He’d probably die—he couldn’t help himself,” he mused silently. “And what would I do if I were in his place? Especially if I were that small… and had no magic?”
The thought that without magic he would be a helpless creature troubled him. What would he do if his powers suddenly… vanished? It seemed impossible—a ridiculous, purely hypothetical idea. Or… was it?
He pulled from his pocket a magical map, folded several times. Tapping the place he wished to go, the map folded itself into a little paper airplane and began to glide slowly toward the marked location—a small, one-story house on wooden stilts. The stilts were unevenly sunk into the ground. Brandon carefully measured the difference in their angles of tilt… then moved on to another house, this time in the snowy biome, and so on.
Thus passed his day.
Brandon was preparing for a very important conference—one that would gather the most powerful inhabitants of the island of Terraria.
---
[Three days later]
A noisy hall inside a desert pyramid. The murmur of a crowd.
— “Quiet, please! Settle down! This is important! Let’s hear the next speaker!”
The crowd slowly fell silent.
— “Ladies and gentlemen. Bearers of magical power. As promised,” began Brandon, “I have conducted my research. I’ve measured the power of the earthquake and assessed its damage. Many of our homes have been affected, of course—but apart from a few foundations now protruding slightly from the ground, the loss is minimal. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the jungles. Flooded by the desert sea, their balance is destroyed—and now war rages there. The lizardfolk and the pygmies are fighting for resources.”
“I’m not calling for anyone to take sides—we must remain neutral. But something else concerns me… us.”
— “What do you mean?” asked Gorgonna.
— *“We are a diverse community. Let’s not pretend otherwise—each of us harbors grievances and grudges. But think—what will happen to us if one day we lose part of our wealth? If some of my, your, or our lands are destroyed? Will we become enemies out of greed? Out of envy, will we use magic to take by force what we’ve lost? Judging by what’s happening in the jungles, such a future is not impossible.
But in these strange times, we must… unite our strength. Unite our magic.”*
He paused. The room listened closely.
— “While mapping the consequences of the earthquake, I noticed something peculiar. The closer a building stands to the place where our ancestors once defeated the Monster, the greater the destruction. Curiously, the buildings did not sink—they were pushed upward, as if something beneath the ground is forcing them out.”
— “You’re suggesting… the Monster is returning?” someone shouted from the back rows.
— “How could that be? What are you proposing? Do you have a plan?” asked a dryad.
— “Yes,” Brandon said solemnly. “It appears the Monster is regaining its strength. Its flesh grows, its veins fill with blood. It is still dead—but trying to awaken. Every simultaneous beat of its many hearts seems to pump blood through its body, and with those beats, the earth trembles. I would not have called you here if I had no plan. As your leader, it’s my duty to create one. But you won’t like it.”
“The Monster is reviving. We can ignore this fact, and perhaps most of us would survive another battle—but life on the island as a whole would be destroyed. That is option A.”
— “My ocean has been lifeless since time immemorial,” yawned the merfolk Neptune. “I don’t care.”
— “Is there an option B?” asked someone from the crowd.
— “Option B—relinquish most of our magical power and channel it toward restraining the reborn evil. We will place magical seals upon the Monster so that our magic will hold it down. I will cast the first seal, and you will follow.”
— “The one who casts the first seal controls most of the magic,” said Gwentor suspiciously. “What guarantee do we have that you won’t use this to strengthen your own power? Where will you imprison the Monster—underground?”
— “Yes,” Brandon answered firmly. *“I’m serious in my intent. And I will give you a way to control me, should power drive me mad. The Monster’s resurrection will be bound to my death—and vice versa. If the dynasty of our Order ends, the seals will be broken and the Monster will grow again. You have one month to decide.
This meeting is over.”*
— “Wait! How will we live without magic? We’ll have to—uh—how will we heal, eat, build? How will we even enjoy life?”
— “You don’t mean a complete loss of magic… do you?” asked Gwentor.
— “According to my calculations,” Brandon replied, “to not only stop but reverse the Monster’s rebirth, we would need all our magic.”
— “Reverse it? Is there a way to merely stop it from growing? Nothing terrible is happening yet. Yes, there are troubles far away—but what concern is that to us?”
— “To merely stop its growth requires fifty percent of our magic. But the seals weaken over time, and unused magic fades. Accounting for that, we’ll need eighty percent. Though, for reliability, I insist on ninety.”
— “Ninety percent?! That leaves us only ten!”
— “How can we live on that?”
— “It’s madness!”
— “Is this some kind of joke?”
The hall erupted in noise. It seemed no one wanted to take seriously the idea of giving up their power.
Then Gwentor spoke loudly:
— “I’m ready! I’m merely a stargazer and archivist. My magical strength is small compared to my knowledge. I am old—but if I can do it, so can you, with the proper training. I cannot ignore the coming catastrophe. Even if I won’t live to see it, I will do all I can to prevent it—and set an example.”
Everyone began to leave, chatting about their hobbies, their flower beds, the latest jokes—like the silly spell that could summon a land shark. It was absurd…
Gwentor spoke once more:
— “I’m heading to the caves for a month—right now. Remember me as I am. My supplies will be only my books: food recipes, notebooks, a weaving manual, a music box, and eye drops…”
He hurriedly grabbed a few sandwiches and a slime pudding dessert from the table—and drank a potion of random teleportation.
The hall gasped. Everyone was astonished by his courage. Those departing debated Gwentor’s chances of survival.
Brandon was the last to leave the pyramid. But in the foyer, he discovered that the scroll containing his sealing spell—the one meant to imprison the Monster—was missing from his satchel. In its place lay a note and a crystal orb filled with someone’s magic.
The note read:
“You were right—the Monster is awakening. I’m troubled that I failed to notice it sooner. Don’t worry—the spell is safe with me. I’ll make some adjustments to improve it, so it can truly prevent the threat.”
Your old friend,
Gwentor.
---
The next chapter, Chapter 6, will tell the tale of Gwentor’s adventures—and of the Monster’s imprisonment within the Wall of Flesh.
---
Preface, Part I
We move ten centuries after the victory over the Monster, and two hundred years before humans began colonizing the island of Terraria.
The story takes place deep within the jungle, where almost no light reaches the ground, and trees and bushes grow alongside springs and small lakes.
At that time, two intelligent species lived there, competing for resources: the pygmies and the lizards.
Each had its own culture and traditions.
The pygmies were small but brave folk — courageous warriors whose society valued bravery and endurance above all.
The lizards were herbivorous creatures. They preferred peaceful coexistence in harmony with nature. The main strengths of their society were diligence and diplomacy.
For many centuries, they shared the territory of the jungle and rarely fought, as food was abundant.
But 150 years later, the unexpected happened. A powerful earthquake shook the entire island.
The ancient jungle bordered the Sandy Lands — a region once rich with rivers and lakes. Its surface teemed with life: from dinosaurs to lungfish-like sharks.
The tragedy struck early in the morning. Within an hour, giant cracks tore open the earth, and precious water drained beneath the sands, dragging hundreds of animals under the surface of the Sandy Lands.
Several funnels swallowed life in mere minutes, leaving behind only a few shallow puddles — which later merged into an oasis, a bastion of life amid the desert.
Later, this tragedy would be commemorated in an unusual way. Goblin historians wrote:
> “The familiar way of life of the goblins, who originally lived on the fertile lands of the Sandy Plains, was destroyed. Our strength and forging skills, once used in battles for meat, were now nearly turned against each other in civil war.
Soon we were forced to seek a new home. Small islands near Terraria were good enough for our scattered clans. Though we will always return to the Great Island for what we cannot produce ourselves — that is, everything except argharghakh weapons.
Twice a year we remember who we are and where we came from. A great emerald bowl filled with water is solemnly washed out, in memory of how life was washed away from our native world.
It is hardly worth mentioning, but still — some, whose sense of humor is duller than our bluntest sword, mockingly call our sacred bowl a terratoilet. This is offensive.”
The world is interconnected, and the systems of the Island form one living organism. Misfortune rarely comes alone.
Now riddled with pits, the Sandy Lands could no longer contain water — and the escaped floodwaters poured into the jungle, washing away and drowning one structure after another.
The pygmies suffered the most. Nearly all their leaf-and-branch huts were destroyed; half their food stores were ruined by mold.
Most of the fruits they had cultivated for centuries — and unknowingly domesticated — were wiped out.
Their way of life was disrupted. Everyone sought to protect their own land — or seize someone else’s.
The lizards especially excelled in this. Their physical strength and endurance let them defeat small pygmy groups and take their food.
The pygmies could not tolerate this. Above all, they wished to overcome their greatest flaw — their small size.
Six months after the flood, they began their research.
The pygmy leaders selected the most gifted herbalists and sent them in search of the recipe for the "growth potion."
Within a few days, the first prototype was created. A small bottle of orange liquid was poured onto a rabbit.
Contrary to expectations, the rabbit did not grow. However, after a few days, the leaves of the trees it ate began to grow unnaturally fast.
The growth was so rapid that a tree reached full size within days — and, astonishingly, it did not stop. Its trunk grew so wide that one could live inside it.
And so it became the new home of the pygmies.
Now they no longer feared floods or repairs. Trees, especially in the humid climate, grew quickly, and their root systems were so strong that not even a hurricane could uproot them.
The pygmies’ homes became magnificent forests. Each level served as a communal kitchen, a personal room, or a meeting place.
The highest branches made excellent archery posts — ideal for dropping large stones onto attackers.
But the main issue — the lack of food — still remained.
The giant trees consumed much water and were perfect for draining swamps, but despite their rapid growth they bore no fruit.
The lizards feared losing such a valuable resource. By then they had found, dug up, and transplanted every seedling, even the tiniest.
Of course, anyone unfamiliar with Terrarian botany might think trees grow from fruit — but Terrarian trees reproduce only through acorns that grow separately on the tree.
The lizards traded with the pygmies, exchanging small amounts of food for the precious gems the pygmies struggled to obtain.
***
Chapter 2: " The Sunken Merchant Fleet "
A calm, glassy sea. The sun sparkled in the morning waters. The clarity of the horizon was broken only by a few tiny dots in the distance.
— What do you see?
— Nothing. Nothing yet. Judging by the charts, the nearest stop won’t be for another couple of days.
The captain of a small merchant flotilla, Edward, was talking with his assistant, cabin boy, and simply his friend, Arthur.
— This heat is unbearable. I wonder if the other ships in the fleet are running out of fresh water as quickly as we are. Do you see any pirates on the horizon?
— No. As there were two of our ships, so there they remain. And even if there were pirates, the cargo we’re carrying—wooden crates, in my opinion—is far too cheap to risk a battle on the open sea for it… Seriously? Ten turtles, iron, copper, a couple of silver ingots, and sacks of bait? They really don’t trust you, do they? — Arthur laughed.
— Keep an eye on the course and don’t get distracted. In these troubled times, good iron is valued highly. You can forge things from it that save your skin in a hard moment no worse than gold. I’m telling you this as an experienced traveler. And that’s not bait—it’s turtle feed.
— Hey, cabin boy, what time is it? — he asked another sailor.
— It’s not time for the смен yet. In an hour, after your lunch break, I’ll relieve you.
— Have you eaten already?
— Yes, and fish too. I just kidding, ha-ha-ha. No, I was just smoking in the hold, thinking about the meaning of my life.
— Smoking? In the hold? Have you lost your mind? Or have you forgotten that besides all sorts of junk, our ship is packed to the brim with gunpowder? You’re putting us all in danger—and you can’t wait a couple of stops?!
— You mean a couple of weeks.
— In that case, I think I know who’ll be scrubbing the entire deck next week.
Time was nearing noon. The lookouts changed shifts, and those who had spent the whole morning under the scorching sun could finally rest in their cabin hammocks, gathering strength for the night watch. But by six in the evening, hurried footsteps suddenly echoed from the upper deck.
The door burst open.
— Captain! Dead ahead… land!
Everyone rushed to the edge of the deck. Indeed, quite suddenly, as if emerging from a pale mist, land appeared.
It certainly wasn’t on any of the charts. A mysterious island, with an incredible diversity of biomes, seemed to beckon the weary sailors. No one knew what riches these lands held, or why no one had known of them before, but one thing was absolutely clear: in just a few hours, one could forever inscribe one’s name in the glorious book of geographical discoveries.
— This is unbelievable. We can’t miss such an opportunity. Signal the ships—general assembly!
The vessels anchored closer to shore. Their captains boarded a longboat and gathered on one of the ships.
— So, gentlemen. We’ve been granted the greatest honor of becoming discoverers. And now we must decide what to do. Our ships are loaded with all kinds of goods, and we’re already halfway home, so it makes sense not to take risks. On the other hand, this island is vast and beautiful. We could sail around it twice to chart its shores. So let’s simply vote.
Who is in favor of circumnavigating the island and gathering information about it?
Four of the five captains raised their hands.
Who is against? Jake?
— Yes, I’m against it. A foolish idea. A ship could strike reefs; we have neither a depth gauge nor a professional ship’s carpenter in case of serious damage. But I understand your desire to become famous. I propose this: let all the most valuable items be loaded onto one ship. I’ll sail out toward the horizon and wait there, accompanied by one of your ships, until night. By then, you’ll have circumnavigated the island and returned to my ships, and we’ll continue our journey.
Hmm… is everyone ready to agree to this?
If so, then let’s be on our way.
Three ships separated from the group and began sailing around the island.
Jake waited. The sun once again lit up the horizon, gradually rising higher and higher. Minutes stretched like hours. Jake decided to take a nap to pass the time.
His sleep was restless. Nightmares plagued him. On a clear day, a terrible storm suddenly raged at sea. His fishing boat was tossed about like a splinter until it capsized and sank. He was already drowning when he realized he was dreaming and wished to become a fish. Surprisingly, it worked—he turned into a small dolphin and was no longer afraid of drowning. The storm ceased, the water became clear as before, when suddenly a school of sharks surrounded him. They drove him toward the shore, hoping to catch him in the shallows. He swam as fast as he could and managed to leap onto land, but he didn’t have time to turn back into a human. His dream ended with a violent blow to his head against the deck. The ship was hurled upward by a massive wave and slammed into the water with tremendous force. The entire crew rushed to see what had happened.
He opened his eyes after many hours of sleep. By his reckoning, at least ten hours had passed—but there were no ships in sight. Jake grabbed a spyglass, and a horrifying scene unfolded before him: masts torn to shreds and fragments of decks scattered here and there. An unexpected tsunami had instantly destroyed not only the ships but had also swept dozens of people into the open ocean.
The captain hesitated. Should he save his friends in distress, or preserve the precious treasures of the expedition he had prepared for many years?
— Lower the boats into the water! — the captain commanded.
The boats were prepared for launching. Two cabin boys jumped into them and began rowing. It seemed that some of the drowning could still be saved, when suddenly pink fins began approaching the wreckage. Powerful shark jaws dragged everything that still moved down into the depths.
The rescue attempts ceased. The boat was recalled, and Captain Jake—the only surviving captain—continued his trading voyage, a heavy stone in his heart, sailing away from the island.
***
Chapter 3: " Saved Twice "
The Coast.
One hour earlier…
A downpour and gusty wind formed a solid wall between the ships sailing toward one another.
-- Excellent work, lads, I’m proud of you,” Edward muttered.
-- This—this—oh, and this territory too? Is the island really that big?
-- Magnificent!
Methodically, piece by piece, using notes and sketches, the captains worked together to reconstruct the island’s coastline map. Some details didn’t match—because of the bad weather visibility was extremely poor—but the overall shape of the island was consistent in everyone’s data. To ensure the drawings wouldn’t be lost under any circumstances, a decision was made to reproduce them.
Black, orange, and red waterproof paints were carefully applied by the cartographers onto a high-quality sheet of leather.
-- At last. It’s finished.
Suddenly, laughter rang out on the deck. Everyone rushed to look toward the shore.
From a flimsy tent, soaked to the bone and sneezing loudly and comically, a man emerged.
Of average height, dressed in a blue cloak and a torn white shirt.
His unremarkable face, with beautiful blue eyes, was adorned with a bright ginger beard.
Leaning on a small cane, he approached.
-- Who are you?!
he shouted loudly, his voice slightly hoarse.
-- Brave sea wolves—and who are you? the crew members replied insolently in unison.
-- You may come ashore and find out who I am.
The man lit a fire, sat down on a log, and curiously examined the island’s guests. He smirked and walked to his small shack. From there he brought some raw fish and shrimp in sauce.
He began devouring them raw, sharing with anyone who wanted to try.
Everyone liked the fish. Its sweet, honey-like taste made them eat it whole and without stopping.
-- I’ve never tasted fish this sweet in my life.
-- Amazing seafood… truly amazing!
-- What a disgusting thing these jellied shrimp of yours are! Bitter and sour at the same time!
-- I’ve eaten worse just to regain my strength… necessity forces one to adapt. I didn’t end up here of my own free will either. I didn’t live here before—got here more or less by accident. My boat… was smashed to pieces. None of my companions survived. It was during a storm.
-- How long ago was that?
-- However long ago it was—hurry. In eight minutes you might meet the same fate.
Surprisingly, the downpour stopped. The sun began to emerge from behind the clouds, and the air filled with the scent of recent rain.
The stranger pulled some kind of jar from his bag.
-- This is a storm in a bottle. The enchanted water inside reacts to the rhythm of the nearby ocean. Judging by everything, a massive seismic impulse deep below is already creating a tsunami far out at sea.
-- And how many disasters have you predicted with fizzy water? These huge ships aren’t boats. They’re heavy, unwieldy, and expensive. Very expensive. Are you suggesting that in dead calm we all squeeze onto one ship and start rowing?
-- I’m offering you a chance to save your asses!
the stranger shouted, clearly losing patience.
-- All right, cast off, lads,
-- barked another captain—Karl, --
In any case, we shouldn’t linger.
-- Oh, and here—take this. Payment for the food and fish gifts.
A bundle of clothes was tossed toward the stranger.
-- But you—whoever you are—you’re not sailing with us. A neurotic on board is a bad omen… ha!
They hadn’t sailed even five hundred meters when a wave appeared beyond the horizon.
At first it was just a small crest, but it grew rapidly—large, then gigantic—until an eight-meter wall of water overturned and smashed everything at sea…
The impact was enormous. Edward smashed his head, but gathering all his will, he kept fighting for his life and swimming toward the shore.
A bloody trail stretched behind him, attracting predators, but he was an excellent swimmer.
Reaching the shore first, he began rescuing the others. Firing his pistol at pink sharks, he tried above all to save Arthur, who was being quickly swept sideways by the current.
Meanwhile, the stranger behaved chaotically. He ran back and forth along the beach, wasting precious time, until he finally found a stick. He returned to the water and tried to extend it to another drowning sailor—but the stick was quickly snapped in half by a shark’s powerful jaws.
-- A child! There’s a child in the water!
Arthur screamed in shocked panic as he was nearly ashore.
And indeed, among the drowning was a little boy wearing a sun hat.
Forgetting everything else, Arthur—and then Edward after him—rushed into the water, unclear what they were even hoping for. Perhaps each of them would have been ashamed to be the one who was afraid to help a small boy, or perhaps Arthur feared missing with his pistol from such a distance. It was a moment of reckless, mad courage.
But the same swift current carried them farther and farther away… toward some cave.
Finding themselves at the bottom of the cave, where almost no sunlight reached, with severe muscle pain and nausea in their stomachs, they collapsed and fell asleep.
When they awoke, they felt a surge of strength and saw a peach and a pineapple beside them. The cave was still dark, but now they could at least feel some measure of safety…
Meanwhile, the stranger rushed to the boy’s aid, swimming on a small plank with a little pot in his hands. Attacking sharks received burns to their snouts, and the youngster was saved.
The others were less fortunate. Only two stood on the shore.
-- It wasn’t in vain. It worked,” the stranger seemed to frown and smile at the same time.
-- Yes, mister, thank you for saving me,” the boy said, recovering from shock.
-- By the way, my name’s Sam, but my friends just call me Sammy. Dad told me not to play hide-and-seek, especially hiding on other people’s ships—and I… didn’t liiiisten.” Sammy burst into bitter tears.
-- You can eat, Sammy. There’s food in my tent. Welcome.
I’m sorry for your loss, truly—but I think we’ll manage.”
-- My name is Runalt. Yes, it’s a strange name, I know. I’ll make a fire.
Sammy fell asleep, nervously sniffling in his sleep, to the gentle crackling of damp, smoking branches in the fire. Runalt covered him with the blue cloak Karl had given him not long ago.
-- Uncle Runalt will go and gather some new, dry branches so we’ll be warmer,” he said—but Sammy slept soundly and didn’t react.
-- Uncle Runalt is going to meet the one he considers merely a pawn in his gambit. A foolish pawn dreaming of becoming a queen -- he repeated even more quietly, clenching his teeth.
And Runalt set off. Into the desert, which even after the downpour remained just as dry.
He sat down on the sand in a small oasis.
***
Chapter 4: " The Long-Awaited Villainy "
Runald sat on the shore of a small oasis. Just imagine—before the first earthquake, this had once been a sea. While waiting for nightfall, he tapped out some idle melody on the stones. A desert slime crept up to him—there had been many of them lately, especially after good rains.
Runald stopped tapping, but for some reason the slime simply began hopping around him, as if awaiting a command.
Then Runald tossed a stick away from himself, and the slime hopped off in the opposite direction.
“Come out, Fishron. I know you’re here.”
From the small lake, a gigantic creature began to surface—massive, tusked, with enormous saber-like teeth and a snout like a pig’s. Its glowing eyes betrayed a strange kind of joy. It was like the furtive delight of a subordinate when their superior sneezes awkwardly during an important meeting—a concealed, mischievous look mixed with schadenfreude.
“Greetings, greetings. I’ve done my part—now you do yours. How are you feeling?”
“I’m gradually recovering. My strength is returning, slowly but surely. Even so, the energy I have now is already enough to subjugate the minds of the simplest organisms—like slime.”
“Now to business. I detonated one of the shadow spheres using a bomb fish and freed the ancient mage for you. You know his dying wish—revenge against the dryads. I believe we’re capable of fulfilling it. After that, his body became yours, and now you’re here.
I’ve already initiated a council gathering on this matter.
The oceanic earthquake and the tsunami that happened recently confirm that I didn’t cheat and that my seal was lifted.
I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. What about you?”
“Yes, I will grant you your share of power in the lunar oceans—but they’re not ready yet.
To melt them requires immense energy. Acquiring that energy is my goal.”
“By the way, about your goals. Destroying the Wall of Flesh and freeing magic… I don’t understand what we’ll do if the Council decides to imprison the monster again.”
“It’s not only about stopping the monster’s growth. When it is released, the magic of light and darkness truly will be unleashed, but…
Dark magic has a single owner. Light magic has many—and not all of them are alive.”
“Magical power is inherited. There has never been a time when such vast magic was ownerless.”
“Then we’ll be the first. We’ll have to work hard.”
“I can’t manage this alone, and you know it. Where is my share for what I’ve already done?”
“I’m in no hurry. I’m searching for allies. Enjoy what you received today.”
“So, to continue my thought… Light magic will partially lose its owners. That means part of it will burst into the world like an explosion, changing it. The energy will settle in fields, meadows, and most importantly, deep within the earth.
A pure concentrate of magic, in the form of magical minerals, will serve as an energy source.
As I obtain this energy—one way or another—from this world, I will fulfill my promises.
And as promised, I cleared the coast of ships today. The seabed is littered with treasures.”
“I wouldn’t call that treasure. Iron and wooden crates, and only a little gold? How did that happen?
Did you screw up? That’s not much—although, as a lover of refined cuisine, I must admit the things they brought were rather tasty.”
“Oh yes, you bite eagerly at bait—you are a fish.”
“A witty remark, Mr. ‘Virtue.’
Help them? And miss a ship carrying valuable cargo?
Miss witnesses to what happened?”
“I’m cautious. Greed is the oldest and most common mistake. I try not to be greedy—even when it costs me. I may not be perfect at it, but it’s better than letting shiny trinkets rob me of my sanity entirely.
As for you—you destroyed a shadow sphere, disrupted the balance of magical power, and temporarily lifted your seal from the imprisoned monster. How you divert suspicion from yourself doesn’t concern me, but under no circumstances should you become a witness yourself.
The reward is worth it.”
“Deal.”
“Deal—though hardly by hand, since neither of us has hands.”
At that moment, Runald’s right arm stretched toward the offered fin. The hand began to twitch, and the skin on Runald’s palm tore open. From the center of his hand, through the paling flesh, a white tentacle emerged and soon wrapped twice around Fishron’s fin.
“Remember our agreement. I need resources—for the development of my lunar kingdom, and for the wars of the lunar kingdom.”
“A pleasure doing business with you. Farewell. It’s time for us to part ways.”
The two left the desert. Runald returned to the dying campfire. Sammy sniffled as the cold crept in.
Runald tossed his staff into the fire. At once, dozens of slimes rushed toward it like mad. Bright flames flared up quickly, and sparks flew in all directions.
Runald hurried to snatch the staff from the fire to prevent the flames from growing stronger. Burned up to the elbow, he barely held back a scream of pain.
“A week of regeneration! Damn it—saving strength again. Some kind of magical diet. All magic goes into regeneration.”
Sammy began to wake up.
“Diet?” he yawned.
“I know a lot about fish. Though I wasn’t the one catching it—it was those deckhands overboard. Did you burn yourself? How did that happen?”
“Diet? Oh yes… sometimes I’m so clumsy. I’d prefer shrimp—I like them very much. But for now… please catch us any fish at all.”
“But I don’t know how, and I don’t want to. I like drawing. We could just eat coconuts—there are lots of them on the ground after the earthquake.”
“Have you chosen death by starvation? I… I don’t like coconuts. While you’re here and your parents haven’t been found, I’m in charge. When you grow up, let some fool catch fish instead of you. This is for your own good.
You’ll make the fishing rod yourself. As you can see, I can’t help you with that right now—and I shouldn’t anyway, since I’m the savior of your hide.”
“Don’t be rude. You’re always like this when you get hurt. That’s your own fault—don’t take your clumsiness out on others. You’ll get your fishing rod. You’ll get your fish.”
“More like our fish, right? It’s… shared food, after all?”
***
Chapter 5: " Locked but Unbroken "
Preface, Part II
Continuation of Chapter 1.
…After the earthquake, the pygmies and lizardfolk began to fight each other from time to time.
The brave pygmies could not accept that they were now forced to mine ores for the lizardfolk—those cunning creatures who had so deftly turned the climate disaster to their advantage...
One day, while walking through the jungle, Brandon witnessed a terrible scene: two pygmies were fighting near a small stream.
— “I gathered this handful of silt!”
— “You gave it to me! But the diamond I found in that silt is mine now, since you sold it to me!”
In the end, one snatched the diamond from the other and ran away—and that was hardly surprising. Among the lizardfolk, a pygmy thief who brought such a valuable find could earn himself a week’s worth of food.
Brandon approached the defeated pygmy and, without hesitation, used a bit of magic. Now, beside the poor, weak creature lay three large, juicy mandarins.
“He’ll be happy when he wakes up,” thought Brandon.
He sat down on a fallen tree and waited for his magical energy to recover.
“What would that poor fellow do without me? He’d probably die—he couldn’t help himself,” he mused silently. “And what would I do if I were in his place? Especially if I were that small… and had no magic?”
The thought that without magic he would be a helpless creature troubled him. What would he do if his powers suddenly… vanished? It seemed impossible—a ridiculous, purely hypothetical idea. Or… was it?
He pulled from his pocket a magical map, folded several times. Tapping the place he wished to go, the map folded itself into a little paper airplane and began to glide slowly toward the marked location—a small, one-story house on wooden stilts. The stilts were unevenly sunk into the ground. Brandon carefully measured the difference in their angles of tilt… then moved on to another house, this time in the snowy biome, and so on.
Thus passed his day.
Brandon was preparing for a very important conference—one that would gather the most powerful inhabitants of the island of Terraria.
---
[Three days later]
A noisy hall inside a desert pyramid. The murmur of a crowd.
— “Quiet, please! Settle down! This is important! Let’s hear the next speaker!”
The crowd slowly fell silent.
— “Ladies and gentlemen. Bearers of magical power. As promised,” began Brandon, “I have conducted my research. I’ve measured the power of the earthquake and assessed its damage. Many of our homes have been affected, of course—but apart from a few foundations now protruding slightly from the ground, the loss is minimal. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the jungles. Flooded by the desert sea, their balance is destroyed—and now war rages there. The lizardfolk and the pygmies are fighting for resources.”
“I’m not calling for anyone to take sides—we must remain neutral. But something else concerns me… us.”
— “What do you mean?” asked Gorgonna.
— *“We are a diverse community. Let’s not pretend otherwise—each of us harbors grievances and grudges. But think—what will happen to us if one day we lose part of our wealth? If some of my, your, or our lands are destroyed? Will we become enemies out of greed? Out of envy, will we use magic to take by force what we’ve lost? Judging by what’s happening in the jungles, such a future is not impossible.
But in these strange times, we must… unite our strength. Unite our magic.”*
He paused. The room listened closely.
— “While mapping the consequences of the earthquake, I noticed something peculiar. The closer a building stands to the place where our ancestors once defeated the Monster, the greater the destruction. Curiously, the buildings did not sink—they were pushed upward, as if something beneath the ground is forcing them out.”
— “You’re suggesting… the Monster is returning?” someone shouted from the back rows.
— “How could that be? What are you proposing? Do you have a plan?” asked a dryad.
— “Yes,” Brandon said solemnly. “It appears the Monster is regaining its strength. Its flesh grows, its veins fill with blood. It is still dead—but trying to awaken. Every simultaneous beat of its many hearts seems to pump blood through its body, and with those beats, the earth trembles. I would not have called you here if I had no plan. As your leader, it’s my duty to create one. But you won’t like it.”
“The Monster is reviving. We can ignore this fact, and perhaps most of us would survive another battle—but life on the island as a whole would be destroyed. That is option A.”
— “My ocean has been lifeless since time immemorial,” yawned the merfolk Neptune. “I don’t care.”
— “Is there an option B?” asked someone from the crowd.
— “Option B—relinquish most of our magical power and channel it toward restraining the reborn evil. We will place magical seals upon the Monster so that our magic will hold it down. I will cast the first seal, and you will follow.”
— “The one who casts the first seal controls most of the magic,” said Gwentor suspiciously. “What guarantee do we have that you won’t use this to strengthen your own power? Where will you imprison the Monster—underground?”
— “Yes,” Brandon answered firmly. *“I’m serious in my intent. And I will give you a way to control me, should power drive me mad. The Monster’s resurrection will be bound to my death—and vice versa. If the dynasty of our Order ends, the seals will be broken and the Monster will grow again. You have one month to decide.
This meeting is over.”*
— “Wait! How will we live without magic? We’ll have to—uh—how will we heal, eat, build? How will we even enjoy life?”
— “You don’t mean a complete loss of magic… do you?” asked Gwentor.
— “According to my calculations,” Brandon replied, “to not only stop but reverse the Monster’s rebirth, we would need all our magic.”
— “Reverse it? Is there a way to merely stop it from growing? Nothing terrible is happening yet. Yes, there are troubles far away—but what concern is that to us?”
— “To merely stop its growth requires fifty percent of our magic. But the seals weaken over time, and unused magic fades. Accounting for that, we’ll need eighty percent. Though, for reliability, I insist on ninety.”
— “Ninety percent?! That leaves us only ten!”
— “How can we live on that?”
— “It’s madness!”
— “Is this some kind of joke?”
The hall erupted in noise. It seemed no one wanted to take seriously the idea of giving up their power.
Then Gwentor spoke loudly:
— “I’m ready! I’m merely a stargazer and archivist. My magical strength is small compared to my knowledge. I am old—but if I can do it, so can you, with the proper training. I cannot ignore the coming catastrophe. Even if I won’t live to see it, I will do all I can to prevent it—and set an example.”
Everyone began to leave, chatting about their hobbies, their flower beds, the latest jokes—like the silly spell that could summon a land shark. It was absurd…
Gwentor spoke once more:
— “I’m heading to the caves for a month—right now. Remember me as I am. My supplies will be only my books: food recipes, notebooks, a weaving manual, a music box, and eye drops…”
He hurriedly grabbed a few sandwiches and a slime pudding dessert from the table—and drank a potion of random teleportation.
The hall gasped. Everyone was astonished by his courage. Those departing debated Gwentor’s chances of survival.
Brandon was the last to leave the pyramid. But in the foyer, he discovered that the scroll containing his sealing spell—the one meant to imprison the Monster—was missing from his satchel. In its place lay a note and a crystal orb filled with someone’s magic.
The note read:
“You were right—the Monster is awakening. I’m troubled that I failed to notice it sooner. Don’t worry—the spell is safe with me. I’ll make some adjustments to improve it, so it can truly prevent the threat.”
Your old friend,
Gwentor.
---
The next chapter, Chapter 6, will tell the tale of Gwentor’s adventures—and of the Monster’s imprisonment within the Wall of Flesh.
---
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