When I was told that there was a sapient species that could steal the bodies of other creatures, I'd expected them to adapt a vast quantity of unique species. Maybe some fire bound beasts to fend off cold nights, or one of the earthen aspect creatures to help construct those buildings many sapients loved. With such an obvious advantage of choice, it should be second nature that they have bodies specific for each role. From hunters to cooks.

But the truth is disappointing.

They inhabit canines, oversized beetles, and some sort of legless rabbit. None of which have any noticeable binding. By all means, these are the weakest and most basic of the local fauna. Nothing I would have ever considered worth a second glance, no less stealing their body.

I'd assumed they were just a few more sapient creatures I'd yet to be introduced, but noticing my curious eye, Ceph is quick to clarify.

"Yes, they are the Portian," she says, keeping her voice at a tapered volume that barely surpasses the growl of the truck beneath us.

"Why do they limit themselves to only those bodies?" I ask.

Both our truck, and those around us continue their slow climb up the mountain. We are already within the portian's territory — Sruthland — yet there's been almost no sign of civilisation. Not like anything of the other races. Only the roads themselves, and the few plantations we've passed indicate any of the same tendencies as the other sapients.

We slowly roll past another line of trees with the occasional tap drilled into its side. A small gathering of portian stand around a bucket filled to the brim with some viscous liquid. Taken from the tree, maybe? Regardless, none have eyes on the bucket. They all stare at our convoy as we pass.

"Well, there's a few reasons." Ceph sounds hesitant to continue, but I'm too interested in a species that doesn't follow the same trends as the other sapients, and she picks up on that. "Well, for one, it's easier to teach their children how to control their bodies when the parent has experience. On a large scale, it's also easier for them to inhabit creatures they have breeding programs for. But…" she trails off as she waits for the trucks to carry us away from the portians' intense gazes.

I'm not able to read their body language nearly as well as the other races, but there are some similarities in how they glare. There is fear there, along with frustration, and maybe a little hate. At first, I think they are staring at me with that expression, but it soon becomes clear it's the warrior caste and the trucks they hold an aversion for. When they notice me — laying on the top of this truck's canvas cover — they express confusion and wariness, but not hate.

The portians do not like the other species. Or maybe its just the warrior castes.

I thought the portian were a part of the pact nations' territory? Why do they dislike those that are supposed to protect them? Well, not like soldiers this weak will be able to do much to fight — as proven by that earlier battle — maybe that's why they dislike them?

"Portians and the rest of the pact nations have a… complicated history," Ceph continues once we are out of range of the canines' ears. "Essentially, they chose a few unthreatening creatures to inhabit so that they could be more easily recognised."

"But I was still mistaken for one of them?"

"Yes, well…" Ceph glanced back, but the portians were already beyond a bend in the mountainous landscape. "It hasn't done much to hide their nature. Especially with how infrequently they leave the mountain."

The trucks continue to follow the road around the bend, and suddenly we're teetering on the edge of a massive drop. The flat, gravel surface is barely wide enough to support the thick vehicles, and I have to wonder if they have any plan should they slip off the cliff. People like Ceph are unlikely to be hurt by such a fall, but most sapients I've met come not even close to her strength. My mind wanders back to those two younglings I helped out back when I first reached the surface.

I'm not going to have to do the same with a long caravan of full-growns, am I?

The road — cut from through sloped rock — stands in contrast to the mostly untouched mountainous forest surroundings. Up the hill a little ways, I spot some of the portian canines following us. They stay out of direct sight, but that means nothing to my eyes.

I didn't think we could slow to any more of a crawl than we'd already been moving, yet the drivers prove me wrong. I'm sure they are being careful near the sheer cliff, but I'm far more interested in rushing ahead. My head shifts Ceph's way, but her focus remains almost entirely on the tied albanic below. Unfortunately for my desires, she looks intent on sticking with the trucks until we arrive.

Still, my curiosity remains. Instead of rushing off by myself, and stressing Ceph out any more than she already is, I spread the range of my sight. Similarly to how I leave a chain of distortions behind, connecting me to the Other Side, I push a few of them ahead to give me vision of our destination.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

This form of hole creation is convenient, but not without its flaws. I'm sliding one tunnel of a bend inside another, which itself is inside another. It's beneficial as it lets me surpass the limits on how far I can create bends, holes and rifts away from my body by bringing that space close to me before creating another distortion.

The problem, is that while I have grown immensely, I can only create so many holes and rends before they collapse under the strain. And the first distortion in these layered links of the chain take all the weight of the others. The load builds up, and eventually, it will all snap out of my control.

Which is why I can't simply create dozens to search the world for me.

Searching the mountainscape alone is manageable, but if I were to spread more than that, the chances of my path back to the Other Side snapping is a real threat. I can't have that. It would take too long to find my way back. After all, the collapse of a single one of those layered holes would destroy the entirety of my chain.

So while I do cast my sight ahead, I keep it limited to a few kilometres around the road. Fortunately, it seems that's all I need.

Unlike the vast, unending cities I've seen so far, the home of the portians and yet-to-be-seen áinfean is a rather humble set of constructions surrounding a pristine lake. A long wooden platform encircles the entire lake. It only breaks — rising into a bridge — where the lake flows into a river.

A short way from the shores lie hundreds of small huts, all built upon the deck, leaving no open earth anywhere between the nests and water. Beyond them, the mountain continues up and around. Their lakeside hive is cradled in the nook of a curved ridgeline.

The snow-covered peaks would be almost perfectly symmetric, if not for the eastern break. There, no trees grow. The earth is recently churned, as if from the Other Side itself.

Less interested in the recent landslide than the sapients, I turn my focus on the gathering that forms between the lake and the largest of wooden huts. There are plenty of portians huddled in the bodies I've already seen, but thankfully, there are also a few with unique forms. A couple of birds, a goat, and one in particular that my instincts tell me is far stronger than the rest. This portian controls a body of a heavily muscled mammal with a thick fur coat that towers over all others.

But my attention doesn't linger on them long. My gaze is pulled to the lake-shore as strange, imprecise forms slide out of the water and land on the wooden deck with a show of finesse.

Elementals.

A subtle hum of energy flows through the air as their bodies of constrained lightning bolts shift and flow in a way no creature of flesh could. Their torso extends into a long, fat tail that expands into a set of fins. At each side, legs with webbed feet allow them to stand upright, despite clearly having forms fit for the water.

Their upper half hunches, as if struggling under the weight of their heads, which rise from the torso with only the slightest curve inwards to reveal a neck. Sparks of electricity form teeth that spread from one side of the head to the other, creating a vicious jaws along their already wide heads.

As the first of the áinfean approach the lumbering portian, more of their kind slide out of the water behind them. Occasionally, from the smaller áinfean, sparks of electricity strike at the air, leaving a burning scent to linger over the gathering of the two races.

Despite being fully electricity, the creatures still appear fully bound to their forms, so not the worst of elementals I've come across. But highly bound beings will always be annoying.

I shake my head — belatedly realising I've now adapted the motion — and bring my mind away from the thought of hunting them. The áinfean are sapient, despite being the same as some of the more frustrating creatures, I don't have to fight them. There's no need to think of them as the same level of irritating as an ascalaphus.

"The military will be here soon," snarls the large portian. "By their numbers, they will no longer accept our refusal."

"Calm, Langr," one of the leading áinfean says with a slight thrum like distant thunder. "We've sent them off without a fight every other time. We shall do the same again."

"But they've brought a small army with them." Langr steps forward, revealing a crippling limp I'd not notices earlier. As far as I can tell, the leg seems fine. Nerve damage? Brain damage? They might not be the pillar of strength I'd originally assumed if they couldn't recover from that. "They wouldn't do that in the middle of their war unless they were ready to what they've hesitated to do for years."

"They wouldn't risk the loss of our hyle," a second áinfean says, exuding the same relaxed demeanour.

Langr growls lightly, but it settles into a low hum. He, and those not murmuring amongst themselves, seem appeased by that thought. Still, the approaching outsiders is all the áinfean and portians can talk about.

And it has nothing to do with me.

Seeing the social interactions between separate sapient races like this is exactly what I want to watch. There's so much to learn. It's clear that the relation between Sruthland and the rest of the pact nations isn't perfect, but it isn't so bad as to reach territorial disputes like with the Henosis.

Hopefully, they don't revolve their attention entirely around my arrival, as every other place has so far. I want to see how they act without my presence being so well known. Looking down on myself, I realise the only way for that to happen is if I change. Even at this size, I'm a fair bit larger than the average snake.

Controlling my form, I shrink down to the smallest I can make myself; the size of an average garden snake, as some sapients describe. There's also the fact that I fly around which continually attracts attention. I slide over to sit on Ceph's head. Hopefully she doesn't mind.

She stiffens slightly at the touch and her eyes slide upwards within her transparent skin to meet mine. Curious, but also wary.

"I'd like to not be noticed this time," I say, and that seems to have her relax. She nods.

"Say, how do the pact nations use áinfean hyle?" I ask.

"High-density energy inscriptions," she answers without a second thought. "Though, the recent treaty with the áed has fulfilled the previous demand…" Ceph trailed off and her eyes slide over the convey we ride with, before groaning slightly.

"You know, it's probably a good idea they don't think of you as sapient. I'll speak with the commander. Are you alright to hold back from speaking until necessary?"

I nod. Of course. This will be an interesting experience. How do two sapient factions interact when neither side has a strength advantage.

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