A Debt to be Paid

Cor-Pog Vonciatta dropped the mirror, shattering it into a thousand glitters of moonlight. Reg looked over and mewed his disapproval.

Cor glanced at the large tigra-ban. “What? I can’t get used to this new body.”

Reg looked immediately disinterested and resumed cleaning himself in a way that made the man blush. Cor looked down at the shattered pieces, seeing disjointed versions of himself. It had been two days since his soul had been swapped into this seemingly perfect specimen. He’d been on the verge of lapsing into a coma when Reg arrived in their tiny apartment with a Borgite priest in tow.

And a man who wished to die.

It was that man’s body that Cor now inhabited, a feat made possible thanks to the priest’s closely guarded soul-swapping secrets. Cor thought he’d been given a new lease on life, but the priest demanded a hefty fee: a fornamite’s carapace.

When the priest told Cor what was expected, Cor immediately felt like telling the tigra-ban to take up housing in the blistering depths of Grahn. Of course, Cor did no such thing and instead showed gratitude by letting the feline help with retrieving the carapace.

A fornamite, Cor knew, was a dangerous predator in the northwestern jungles of Fil Tell. They tended to keep themselves hidden until it was time to feed. Being three times bigger than a tigra-ban, Cor knew the task was going to be almost impossible.

Should’ve let myself fall into a coma.

But, with the help of Reg, Cor knew he had a good chance. Tigra-bans were notorious for having mental aptitudes that bordered on the hypnotic: it was that technique that Reg had surely used when seeking the Borgite and the previous owner of Cor’s body.

Looking at himself again – the multi-faceted version of himself – Cor wondered what a man could do to contemplate suicide. He’d never been on the brink of such insane thoughts himself but he’d heard about it from time to time. Thinking deeper, Cor wondered how much longer his old body would last before the coma gave way to finality that only Sedragop’s Syndrome promised so sweetly and bitterly.

Shaking his head clear of the thoughts, Cor promised to let a new sense of resolve enter his mindset. He whistled for Reg to finish his cleansing and knew they would be on their way soon enough. The jungles were still over a week away, and the priest had promised to undo the swap if he didn’t have his carapace by the next full moon, which was roughly fifteen days away.

Journey there, finding the fornamite, journey back: this is cutting it short. I wish the priest would just come with us to save some time.

But Cor knew it’d be useless to even ask. Not even Reg’s abilities could make a Borgite willingly go into the jungles of a fornamite.



It was exactly six days later when the pair began to skirt the edge of what locals had dubbed the Shadowman’s Jungle. Cor’s nerves were on fire and he recalled that he was able to keep calm in his old body much easier. Must be a side-effect of the swap. No way I’m really this nervous!

As if reading his mind, Reg cast a glance at Cor and looked as if his expression said Doubt it, buddy.

With a deep breath and two fat-blades ready, they entered the jungle.

The fornamite attacked almost immediately.

Cor assumed it had been watching them during their approach. It swiped one paw at Cor, knocking a fat-blade out of his hand. Another paw slashed at Reg and the creature used a third and fourth set of paws to jump back into the trees. Cor looked up and watched the six-legged creature withdraw into its beautifully structured shell before gravity pulled it back down almost on top of them.

Cor dove one way and hoped that Reg would know to dive the other. In horror, Cor looked and saw the heavy shell land on the tigra-ban’s torso. Reg wheezed and roared. The fornamite kept its head in the three-meter-long shell but cast its legs about almost like tentacles. Cor was mesmerized by how quickly Reg was being shredded into smaller portions. Blood splattered the surrounding leaves and, above it all, Cor heard a shrill bird’s cry pierce the massacre like thunder in a maelstrom.

Enraged, Cor stood and retrieved the second fat-blade. He threw it at the fornamite’s shell and the beast stopped to reorient its enclosed head on Cor. The man felt like the end was near but he knew he couldn’t watch idly while his companion of the past decade was killed.

When he thought the reptilian demon might pounce, Cor saw Reg meekly but valiantly take a grisly bite out of the fornamte’s leg. The beast, surprised, let its head slide out to see the attacker and Cor took his chance: he dashed and, with a strong chop, severed the fornamite’s head.

The beast thrashed, causing more claws to finish the tigra-ban, but Cor knew there was no chance in saving his friend.



It took some time but Cor gave Reg a proper burial and roughly cut the fornamite meat out of the intricate casing. Traveling with the shell was difficult but Cor made it back with half a day to spare.

The priest looked at the shell and at Cor as if he didn’t recognize the man or know the reasons behind his actions. When the priest’s memories found purchase, the old man asked “Where’s your cat-friend.”

“Dead.”

“He’s the one that saved your life.”

“Yeah. A few times now.” He gestured at the shell. “What’s that for?”

“I needed a new baptismal tub.”

Cor felt like shoving a blade through the priest but knew it might revert the swap. Can’t have Reg’s actions be in vain. So he left the priest and realized he knew one way a man might willingly die: to save the life of his beloved friend.

Word Count: 999



Continued with

Regrets Over Living  (13+) Continuing the story of Cor: he begins to see why his new body was so easy to come by. #1672955 by Than Pence