Three months.

  Jake checked the surroundings with his Life sense before extending his hooves into soil that had been compacted by generations of identical work. The nearest Bovari were completely out of range, focused on their own tasks. Nobody watching. Nobody around to pay attention to one young bull gathering construction stones.

  Perfect.

  He extended his Stone affinity downward, feeling the bedrock thirty feet below. Then he pushed Amplification through the connection.

  The effect spread like ripples in water. What should have been a single stone rising from loose dirt became dozens. All at once. Rising from deep earth in coordinated response that no normal Bovari could manage.

  Perfectly sized. Perfectly shaped. Ready for the masons to place along the roadways that divided this town into its assigned sections.

  The entire process took minutes. What would have consumed a full day's labor for any other his tribe. Jake loaded the stones onto his wagon with practiced efficiency, checking again to confirm nobody had witnessed the supernatural productivity.

  And just like that, I’m free to kick back and enjoy the day.

  The stones settled into their neat arrangement. Jake's day's quota completed before the morning had even begun. Which left him hours of freedom while the rest of his tribe continued their assigned labor.

  Everything here was clean. Efficient. Designed so thoroughly that thinking became optional. The grid had done all the mental work decades ago. Maybe centuries. All that remained was executing the pattern with mechanical precision.

  Which suited Jake fine. Because while others worked, he had time to practice. To experiment. To master the abilities he kept carefully hidden.

  The amnesia excuse had held up beautifully. Jake had pulled the soap opera move perfectly. "Days of Our Lives" level memory loss. The kind of dramatic brain damage that let him claim ignorance about anything he didn't want to explain while maintaining just enough personality that Dawngraze believed her son was still in there somewhere.

  It was the same con he'd run on Earth. Different context, same mechanics. Play the victim. Let people fill in gaps with their own assumptions. Accept sympathy while avoiding accountability.

  And it had worked. The village accepted his "changed" nature as plague aftermath. Divine blessing mixed with trauma. Nobody questioned why Thornback didn't remember childhood friends or family traditions or the specific details of Bovari culture.

  They just felt grateful he'd survived.

  A small shape darted past Jake's face. Too fast for normal vision to track properly. Moving in patterns that looked almost natural but fundamentally weren't.

  William.

  Jake's void sense locked onto the zombie fly automatically. The undead insect zipped through the air with speed that living flies couldn't match. Three months of upgrades had transformed it from clumsy animated corpse to something approaching useful.

  Adding air affinity to William's necromantic structure had solved the control issues completely. Now the dead fly moved with precision Jake could barely follow with his Bovari eyes. The thing was a speedball. Darting. Weaving. Impossible to track without magical senses.

  Which made it perfect for reconnaissance nobody else could detect.

  Jake watched William circle the construction site with void sense while his eyes tried and failed to keep up. The fly was never where it looked like it should be. Light refraction made visual tracking useless. Once given a mental command to action, even Jake had to rely on void affinity to know William's actual position.

  Looking at it directly made him go cross-eyed.

  Three months of practice and I still can't quite nail light mechanics. I’m going to make you invisible one day William! But the damn thing still breaks physics every time it moves.

  But that was fine. William served its purpose. Scouting. Surveillance. Eyes where Jake couldn't go. The zombie fly had become an extension of his awareness, flitting through windows and cracks to map the village in ways his massive quadruped body never could.

  Because Jake had been feeding constantly. Not on brains. On life force. Hundreds of flies drained every night while the village slept. Each one contributing a tiny fraction of vitality that accumulated into something substantial. Then there was the occasional field mouse, prairie weasel, ground beetles, and whatever else he felt like practicing on.

  The Syphon had become second nature. Invisible vines extending through darkness to drain the creatures that no one would miss. The calmness that came with each feeding had replaced the constant parasitic hunger. And his body had responded by growing.

  Dramatically.

  Jake had put the brakes on his own biology two weeks ago. Literally forced his Life affinity to stop reinforcing tissue and adding mass. Because if he'd continued at that rate, he would have quickly become the most fearsome Bovari to ever walk the Plains Kingdom.

  Which would have drawn exactly the wrong kind of attention.

  As it was, Jake was already noticeably larger than most young bulls his age. Broader shoulders. Thicker legs. More muscular by far than natural growth, much less the plague should have allowed. Dawngraze praised it as divine favor. The village called it blessed recovery.

  Jake knew it was vampirism wearing a friendly face.

  But the growth had to stop. Had to plateau at "impressive but plausible" instead of "physically impossible." So Jake had capped his own development, channeling excess life force into maintaining current mass rather than building more.

  It didn't make him happy. Life here was too easy. Mindless work and plenty of time to study powers in private. Exactly what he needed to master the abilities he'd absorbed.

  But it also meant dealing with complications he hadn't anticipated.

  Like Broadhorn.

  The large young bull appeared at the edge of Jake's vision, dark hide and prominent horns making him easy to spot even at a distance. He was watching again. Glowering with the kind of territorial aggression that made Jake's borrowed instincts itch.

  Everything was a competition with that guy. Every interaction became a challenge for dominance. Every day brought mean mugs and half-assed provocations designed to trigger confrontation.

  Jake didn't know the history between Thornback and Broadhorn. The young bull's brain had been paste when Jake possessed him. Barely coherent enough to grab language functions. Whatever rivalry or animosity existed had died with Thornback's consciousness.

  But Broadhorn wouldn't let it go.

  And it didn't help that Thornback, or rather Jake wearing his skin, was now slightly bigger than Broadhorn. Apparently that was a personal affront. A challenge that demanded response.

  What am I supposed to do? Lock horns with him? Butt heads until someone passes out?

  Jake could win that fight easily. Could drain Broadhorn with a Syphon vine nobody would see. The bull would just collapse, unconscious, and everyone would assume exhaustion or heat stroke.

  But no. Jake wasn't going to rock the boat. He had it good here. Better than good. Stable life. Maternal care from Dawngraze. Time to master abilities without the constant survival pressure that had defined the swamp. He even had daydreams of just living this life. It wasn’t bad at all compared to what he had been through. This was easy, and Jake liked easy.

  But, he needed to stay on mission. Find the humans. Locate the Shadow Conclave. Deliver Fallen's intel.

  Not get distracted by territorial bull politics.

  Jake pulled the loaded wagon toward the road, leaving thoughts of a glowering Broadhorn out of his mind. The work was simple. Harvest wheat. Transport it to the mill. Repeat until the day's quota was met. Gather stone. Transport it to the masons. Repeat until the day’s quota was met. Grind the wheat. Put it in sacks. Repeat until the day’s quota was met. Let the grid's efficiency carry him through routines that required no thought.

  Which left his mind free to circle back to the same frustrating question that had been nagging him for months.

  Where are the humans? It could probably wait till tomorrow.

  ---

  The conversation with Dawngraze one random evening started innocently enough.

  They sat outside the dwelling as the sun set, sharing simple food and the kind of comfortable silence that came from months of maternal bonding. Dawngraze hummed a soft tune between bites. Jake let William scout the perimeter, tracking the zombie fly's movements with void sense while maintaining eye contact with his supposed mother.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Mother," Jake said carefully, testing words he'd been building toward for weeks. "I've been thinking about the other towns. The different people."

  Dawngraze smiled. "The Centauri are beautiful, aren't they? So elegant. And the Verrin are strong workers despite their... unfortunate features."

  Jake nodded. "But are there others? Species I haven't seen yet?"

  "Of course. The grid is vast. Many contribute to the Serpent Lords' glory."

  "What about..." Jake paused, realizing he didn't actually have a Bovari word for humans. Thornback's fragmented memories contained no reference. "What about people with two legs? Like the Pantathians, but smaller?"

  Dawngraze's expression shifted instantly. Comfort became alarm. Her hooves stamped in agitation that Jake felt through their empathic connection.

  "Where did you hear of such things?"

  "I just... wondered. If the Serpent Lords have two legs, maybe there are others who..."

  "No!" Dawngraze's voice carried fear that bordered on panic. "The Serpent Lords are the ONLY ones with two legs! It is the sacred form! Anything else with two legs is corruption. Aberration. To be killed on sight!"

  Jake kept his expression neutral despite internal calculation spinning faster. That's... specific. And terrifying.

  Dawngraze grabbed his shoulders, maternal instinct warring with religious terror. "My poor son. Your amnesia makes you speak of dangerous things. But you must understand. Two-legged creatures are blasphemy against the natural order. The Snake Lords walk upright as proof of their divinity. Any imitation is the highest sin."

  "I didn't mean to..."

  "There are things we don't speak of," Dawngraze continued, voice dropping to whisper. "The Lepori. Rabbit creatures who walk on two legs sometimes. They are severe outcasts. Corrupted by their unnatural forms. We do not mention them. We do not acknowledge their existence. To speak of them invites their taint."

  The rabbit people. The underground city. They're outcasts here? Hunted maybe.

  Jake filed that information away with everything else he was learning. The grid's perfect tyranny extended beyond just economic control. It included strict biological hierarchies. Quadrupeds good. Bipeds bad. Unless you were Pantathian, in which case two legs proved divinity.

  "I understand, Mother. I'm sorry. The plague must have confused me."

  Dawngraze relaxed slightly, though fear still pulsed through their connection. "It's not your fault. You've been through so much. But please, my son. Don't speak of such things again. Even thinking about them is dangerous."

  She rose with the kind of abrupt decisiveness that came from needing action to dispel anxiety. "I must go to the temple. Beg forgiveness for any trespasses we may have committed in this conversation. The Serpent Lords are merciful, but we must show proper contrition."

  Jake watched her leave, hooves clicking rapidly toward the village center where the serpentine temple waited. She'd pray. Make protection signs. Perform whatever rituals Bovari culture demanded when blasphemous thoughts were accidentally entertained.

  And Jake would be left alone to process what he'd just learned.

  Humans are either hidden, forbidden knowledge, or hunted to extinction,. The rabbit people are outcasts for walking upright. And Dawngraze is terrified enough to seek immediate religious absolution.

  The pieces didn't fit together yet. But they were accumulating. Building toward something Jake couldn't quite see.

  The next day brought Jake to the mill with another wagon load of harvested wheat. The massive stone structure dominated the village's work area, its giant grinding wheel turned by teams of the largest Bovari in shifts that lasted hours.

  Four of them were on duty when Jake arrived late in the afternoon. Looking like he had labored all through the day. Their broad shoulders and thick legs straining against the wooden lever that rotated the stone. Tedious work. Exhausting. The kind of labor that ground down bodies over years of repetition.

  They saw Thornback approaching and grins broke out across their weathered features.

  "You ready for your training again today?" one of them called.

  The group cheered. Jake unhitched from his wagon with exaggerated ceremony, playing along with the game they'd developed over the past month.

  "Time for all the girls to take a break!" Jake smiled at them, using the gentle mockery they'd established as routine.

  One of the large bulls stepped away from the lever, making space. Jake moved into position, hooves finding purchase on packed earth worn smooth by generations of identical steps.

  He began to push.

  The lever moved with resistance that would have been impossible for any smaller Bovari. Only the strongest were able to make this a part of the rotation of work. But Life affinity threaded through his muscles, sending oxygen where it was needed, strengthening fibers beyond their natural capacity. The stone wheel turned. Wheat ground between surfaces older than anyone in this village.

  One by one, the three remaining Bovari stepped away. Let Jake push alone. Watched with appreciation as their blessed young bull did work that normally required four grown adults.

  "How long will he last this time?" someone asked with genuine curiosity.

  Jake settled into rhythm. Let his enhanced body handle the strain while his mind wandered. William circled overhead in patterns only void sense could track. The flies in the mill waited to be drained tonight. Everything was routine.

  "He is a freak."

  Jake didn't need to turn to know the voice. Broadhorn. Of course.

  "Would you like to try?" Jake said casually, not breaking his pushing rhythm. Life affinity continued reinforcing muscle, compensating for strain that should have been overwhelming.

  "I have no reason to prove my worth to you!" Broadhorn's voice carried the territorial aggression Jake had learned to expect. "I will be chosen for the highest honor of the Bovari. The Collection is almost upon us, and I will be selected to protect the Golden Lands. It is my right, as my father was chosen."

  The Golden Lands. The Collection.

  Jake had heard both terms before but never gotten clear explanations. The Golden Lands seemed to be what the Bovari called this continent. Apt name from what Jake had seen from altitude. Golden grass. Golden wheat. Golden perfection stretching to every horizon.

  The Collection though... that term carried weight whenever it was mentioned. Importance. Fear. Something significant approaching.

  I should ask Dawngraze. But after the humans conversation, maybe not. Don't want to push my luck and wind up having to do my own penance at the temple just to appease her.

  Jake completed another circuit. The stone wheel ground steadily. His muscles worked with efficiency that came from magical enhancement nobody watching could detect.

  "Your father was not good enough to be chosen. Your breeding is weak."

  The mill went silent.

  Jake felt the shift immediately. Conversations stopped. Movement ceased. Even the workers who'd been taking their break froze in positions of shocked attention.

  That was bad. Really bad. Whatever that insult means, it's serious.

  Jake completed another circuit. Then another. Pushing through tension that had nothing to do with physical strain. Six rounds total. Working toward seven.

  His left rear hoof's tendon snapped.

  The sound was audible. A wet pop that carried across the suddenly quiet workspace. Jake felt the tissue separate, ligaments giving way under pressure that should have been distributed across four bodies.

  Life affinity responded instantly. Threading through damaged tissue. Knitting fibers back together. Healing the injury so fast that pain barely registered before disappearing completely.

  Jake turned off his pain receptors entirely. Let the healing happen invisibly while he completed the seventh circuit like nothing had occurred.

  The workers ran back to take over. Concerned. Checking his leg. Looking for damage they'd all heard happen.

  Jake just shook his hoof casually. Didn't acknowledge the injury that had already healed. Strapped himself back to the wagon like the conversation and the insult and the snapped tendon were all equally irrelevant.

  "I hope you enjoyed your break, fellas. I have some real work to do!" He smiled and started walking away. Leaving Broadhorn to his territorial posturing. Leaving the shocked workers to their grinding.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if he had Verrin blood running in those veins."

  The mill almost stopped.

  Jake froze mid-step. He could feel the stopped breath in the crowd that watched him. He could feel the astonishment of what Broadhorn had said run through them all like a shock.

  But he paid no attention to the obvious disrespect. He didn’t give a squirt of piss about how Broadhorn felt about him or his bloodline. But the words. Something about the actual words that were used.

  Verrin. Verrin blood. Verrin...

  His mind raced. Verres. Latin for boar. For pig. Verrin was just the Bovari pronunciation of Latin terminology.

  Bovari. Bovine. That's Latin too.

  The pieces slammed together with force that made Jake's stolen consciousness reel.

  Lepori. Hare. Also Latin. All the species names. They're all from Earth. From a dead language two thousand years old. How is that possible?!

  The implications cascaded. Humans had named these species. Or Pantathians had. Or someone from Earth had been here. Was still here. Had influenced this entire world with terminology that shouldn't exist outside of ancient Roman civilization.

  But that means... what? Humans created these species? The Pantathians came from Earth? There's a connection I'm not seeing?

  Jake stood perfectly still. Mind racing too fast for his Bovari body to keep up. William circled overhead in patterns Jake's void sense tracked automatically. The mill creaked. Nobody spoke.

  The silence stretched. Lengthened. Became uncomfortable.

  Everyone watching thought Jake was about to lose his shit. About to charge Broadhorn. About to explode with the kind of territorial violence the insult clearly demanded.

  But Jake wasn't thinking about Broadhorn at all.

  He was thinking about Earth. About Latin. About how a language from his world was embedded in the fundamental naming conventions of species on this nightmare planet Hope had cursed him to.

  What the fuck is going on?!

  Finally, after seconds that felt like minutes, Jake turned.

  Broadhorn stood there. Larger than average. Dark hide scarred from what looked like training accidents. Horns bigger than Jake's, curved with aggressive prominence. A smug expression on his bovine features like he'd finally gotten under Jake's skin.

  Like he'd won some victory by provoking a reaction.

  Jake looked at him. Really looked. Let the moment stretch just a bit longer.

  Then Jake made a sound deep in his throat, half-grunt and half-snort, that captured every ounce of swine-like derision Broadhorn had intended with the Verrin insult.

  The mill workers burst into laughter.

  Jake turned and walked away. Leaving Broadhorn to his own humiliation. Leaving the Latin revelation to burn in his mind like a brand he couldn't ignore.

  Earth language. In an alien world. Embedded so deep that insults reference it. Species names based on it. How? Why? What does this mean?

  The questions followed Jake all the way back to the fields. Followed him through the rest of the day's work. Followed him into evening when Dawngraze returned from the temple with prayers completed and protection signs fresh on her hide.

  She smiled at him with maternal warmth. Asked about his day. Hummed her lullaby while they shared simple food.

  And Jake smiled back. Nodded. Pretended everything was fine.

  While his mind circled the same impossible question over and over.

  William landed on his shoulder. The zombie fly's presence barely registered through Jake's distraction. Just another tool. Another ability. Another piece of the parasitic existence he'd built in three months of stealing life force and pretending to be someone he'd killed.

  But the Latin thing... that was new. That was significant. That was a thread Jake could pull if he was careful.

  Jake's gaze drifted toward the temple. Toward the pictograms he'd seen in the forbidden sanctum. The shining cave. The species emerging. The Pantathian taking the crystal.

  Was that cave on Earth? Did they all come from there? Is that the connection?

  Too many questions. Not enough answers.

  But for the first time since arriving in the Plains Kingdom, Jake felt like he'd stumbled onto something real. Something that connected to the bigger picture. Something that might explain why Hope's curse had thrown him here specifically.

  Latin. Earth. Humans. The cave. The crystal. The grid.

  It's all connected. I just need to figure out how.

  ---

  END CHAPTER 57