Kinverse: Volume One

PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN

A naive young monster's tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter

Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.

Reader discretion is advised.

Description:

A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she's forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.

There's only one slight problem, though.

She's not trapped in this world with them. They're trapped in this world with her.

Categories:

Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.

Disclaimers:

This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren't purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.

This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don't really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one's enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.

Chapter 41: Interlude 6: The Gold River Grabber (g)

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A/N:

Post-CW plot context:

Emeral lounges around the house, continuing to learn from her new friends. She finishes off the day by doing some ‘self-exploration’ which runs into a few complications. First Sam walks in on her--which results in Emeral being mischievous and spooking Sam--and then afterwards Emeral gets too enthusiastic and pains herself, ruining the moment. She does ultimately come out of it more experienced and knowledgeable about herself sexually.

---

Drinking my coffee at Goose's bar and reading the regional newspaper, multiple sections catch my eye...

TWO MISSING, ONE FOUND DEAD IN PROVINCIAL PARK

Following the return to Gold River, Vancouver Island after the all-clear was given by authorities, two campers who had remained behind in Strathcona Provincial Park were discovered by a park ranger to have gone missing with signs of a struggle in an apparent animal attack. A local hunter was also found dead just off of Westmin Road. Details of the autopsy have yet to be released, however authorities believe it to have also been an animal attack, 'but [that] the circumstances are suspicious.'

Local police along with assistance called in from neighboring departments are currently combing the park in search of any clues that may lead to the discovery of the whereabouts of the missing campers. The identities of those missing have not yet been released to the public, local police say, citing that '[they] want to protect the privacy of the families of the deceased in these trying times.'

A local witness has come forward to us about who he believes the missing persons to be, alleging that they were friends of his, and that they had 'decided to stay behind despite the evacuation notice in order to party alone.' These claims cannot be verified by us at this time. The local police has yet to release any witness statements they have taken.

MAN, PETS MISSING IN GOLD RIVER

Following a night of drinking at a locally owned restaurant and bar, the 'Goose Nest Grillhouse,' a man has disappeared in Gold River, Vancouver Island. Witnesses report that he left his car keys with the owner of the establishment and chose to walk home. However, his disappearance was reported by his employer days later after he didn't show up to his place of work. Cursory investigations showed he never returned for his car keys or to his place of residence.

Reports of missing pets are also unseasonably on the rise in the town. Owners have reported to us that their dogs are going missing from backyards, running free into the forest and disappearing following agitation, and many are also reporting strange defensive behavior even from indoor-only pets.

Rumors of odd footprints around town have prompted discussion of the mythological cryptid 'bigfoot,' though any rumors are unfounded and we have yet to be submitted any credible evidence towards these claims. The local police department has advised that residents are to keep an eye out for strange animals and report any sightings to the police, not travel alone after dark, and consider bringing outdoor pets inside. Winter is approaching and the rate of pets going missing increases during the season.

LOCAL FATHER OF TWO DISAPPEARS INTO FOREST

Adding to the list of disappearances around the town of Gold River, Vancouver Island is Samuel Hart, community organizer and family man. The official witness statement from his wife is that he worked into the night in his study and was discovered to have disappeared following a bear invading their home, the father of two potentially having chased after it. Local police have added him to their list of missing persons and are conducting a sweep of the forest surrounding the town for any trace of the man.

Inspector Adam Harper of the Gold River police had this to say when asked for comment: "We have recently had a surge of aggressive wildlife encroaching into town which is believed to be caused by the wildfire displacing them. It is possible that Mr. Hart left his home and was attacked. I advise all citizens to report sightings of dangerous wild animals and not to travel alone at night, especially in the forest. I also recommend bringing outdoor pets inside early as the winter months approach. Stay indoors and stay safe."

Mr. Harper declined to comment when asked for his opinion on rumors of a purported individual referred to as the 'Gold River Grabber' abducting individuals after dark, and this individual being responsible for the recent string of disappearances. There has so far been no evidence of any criminal activity made public and the local police maintain that animal attacks are the likely cause.

A SECOND ALIENSTOCK?

Following the viral spread of images alleged to contain an extraterrestrial entity spotted within the small town of Gold River, Vancouver Island social media has erupted into calls for a second 'Alienstock' event. On September 20th three events were organized catering to alien conspiracy aficionados due to a viral meme revolving around the idea of 'raiding' Area 51, a location prominent in alien conspiracy circles.

A minor tourism boom has descended upon Gold River birthed by rumors of unexplainable happenings. In a statement, the mayor had this to say: “We are grateful for the tourism boost, but would like to ask that any vacationers please remain within the town or on marked paths within the surrounding provincial parks. There has been a recent string of disappearances and our local police branch will not be able to cope with the need to find missing park guests during ongoing investigations." When approached for further information, B.C. Parks and Recreation employee Carey Fairbanks refused comment. The manager of the park, Elijah-

Standing up, I toss the newspaper back down on the bar and turn to leave, my coffee finished.

Hopefully the press attention doesn't hurt Goose much. Carey never mentioned having to deal with a reporter. To just brush them off though, her experience out there must have been something.

“See you later, Frank!" Goose calls. I wave back idly, lost in thought.

---

The clearing is derelict, the scene easy to find for once; Marty and Dylan were able to follow the dead hunter's meandering trail all the way to it despite the weather. Wet clothes frozen stiff in the night littered the march, assuring that we'd been on the right track. When we got to the river we were at a loss--until we found the site of the attack, that is.

Keys still in the ignition, a spent rifling casing on the ground, and a fetid mound of rotting flesh. Some clues obvious, others... strange. He had not intended to stay for long or he was simply lazy. He shot at something though any potential blood had since been washed away by the rains. The pile of meat was seemingly in an advanced state of decomposition, more slurry than solid--and yet that did not fit the timeline; an anomaly. Stranger still were the bullet casings from a missing handgun within.

Even with the packed dirt of the wildlife trail the ATV's tracks were able to bring us to his camp. This camp.

I scoff to myself. A dozen coolers packed with ice and elk meat, though many upended and empty. Once again, some clues clear, others less so. The man was illegally hunting, but some of the meat has gone missing.

Two unexplainable clues which, when put together, create one disturbing answer: the meat was eaten and then seemingly vomited back up along with a magazine's worth of bullets.

“Secure the scene," I order the search team. “And find that monster."

I feel a weight to the world... a presence arriving and making itself known. A primal jolt of fear runs down my spine. The monster in the woods. The Gold River Grabber.

Pulling and clutching my service pistol tight I level it around, finding Marty, Dylan, and the others now nothing but piles of rotten meat. They were already dead, it's just me left. Picked off in the forest on this fool's errand, retracing the steps of the dead.

A brutal clawed foot comes down on the tent, the beast towering tall over me. I empty my magazine into its grinning visage but unharmed all it does is shriek a wordless howl. I turn to flee but it pounces me down, great teeth chewing as it steals me away like the rest to become meat. The world goes dark in a haze of pain; melting fur and flesh my only companions as I lay dying-

Shrill ringing brings me from the all-devouring darkness. Fuck, I need to relax instead of poring over reports all night.

I grab my phone and check the time. Early morning, though I've only slept for two hours... I answer it anyway; it's work.

“Hello?" I ask groggily.

“Inspector," one of my subordinates greets. “There's been another incident... we need you for this. It's in town this time."

Fucks sakes. I'll sleep when I'm dead.

---

Though the scenes conjured by my mind last night were terrible, they've already mostly faded and nothing can top the real thing.

The divot in the forest floor before me has been defiled with bones, offal, and unimaginable amounts of blood. The stench and sight force me to step away, though Marty's of sterner stuff.

“Secure this scene," I order. “And f-... John, get those forensics guys on the line and the cleanup crew notified. Again. And do another search to find the rest of the body."

Marty breaks away and follows me out to fresher air a stone's throw from the tree line. He somehow looks shittier than I probably do.

“Sir... there was barely anything left this time," he points out. “Considering the amount of blood I don't think there's a rest to be found."

He's right, but it gives the men something to do instead of twiddling their thumbs. As for him... heavy bags lay under his bloodshot eyes and he subtly twitches at every little sound. Sleep deprivation.

“Marty, it looks like you didn't sleep last night. Are you okay?"

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Because I didn't, sir. I was up all night because something spooked Dylan, and I'm pretty sure I saw whatever it was outside." His eyes subtly shift to the ditch before breaking back to meet my own. “And it wasn't a bear," he mutters gravely.

I glance to the house. From the back door to halfway up the stairs, huge gouges and claw marks riddle the victim's home.

“Sir... please tell me that call to the spooks went well after the Fairbanks incident."

I shake my head. “No, sorry. They haven't gotten back to me yet at all. I just leave a call, and they in their almighty black operations splendor call back when they feel like it," I spit.

He blinks and grunts.

I slap his shoulder and he wavers on the spot. “Meaty, you're relieved. Go get some sleep, man."

Whatever he saw must have killed Mr. Hart. Marty's lucky to be alive.

“Yes sir." He turns and heads not through the yard of the Hart residence but instead to his own house a few over. But stops.

“Did you say 'Meaty'?" he asks before shrugging and moving on. “I need sleep."

Aspects of the dream float back. Gone but not forgotten. I don't correct him.

---

The breakfast of not kings, but his men: budget coffee and donuts brought over from Campbell River.

“Marty, you're looking better today." I set down the box and mug on his desk and his face lights up.

“I'd hope so, sir." He pops a Timbit in his mouth while I give Dylan at his feet a biscuit.

The donuts are a day old, but the man doesn't care. I steal a stray folding chair and bring it over to wait in patiently while he collects himself.

I slip a folder out from beneath the box and retrieve a few papers, reviewing them quickly. Marty's eyes lock onto the pages and he steels his expression; reliable and devoted to work as always. I don't know what he did to get booted here from Victoria, but it's certainly worked out for me.

“Those the Carey interview files, sir?"

I nod and offer them. He wipes his glazing-coated fingers off with a napkin before taking and reviewing them. Yesterday a few hours following my visit the woman had come in and given her formal interview and retrieved her phone.

While he reads I pull out my notepad and reread my personal notes from the informal one.

Says alone. James' death minutes old by my arrival. Her phone last used within hour.

Says large brown animal caused crash. But tire was slashed.

Claims incidental damage from rock. Doesn't make sense. Car found crashed against tree but no large rocks capable of slashing tire as occurred found nearby.

Left scene of crash. Vehicle shows signs of attempted reverse from tree. Broken driver's side windshield despite no reason it should have been damaged. Signs of struggle in mud of road. But survival supplies taken. Timeline of crash does not fit phone. She crashed in the day. Phone light was on. Would have run out of battery by time of discovery.

One final note at the bottom sits apart from the rest.

Suspicious behavior. Need to try to catch her in lies at station. Timeline of crash does not fit story.

I pocket the notes. I'm keeping them to myself for now. He doesn't need speculation tainting his own take.

Marty's lips purse. He unlocks a drawer on his desk and pulls out a different report; this one from the scene of the crash. After skimming it for a few moments he speaks up.

“She went missing during the day, right?"

I nod and he looks back to the paper.

“It says here her phone was recovered from the scene unlocked with its flashlight on. But she says in her interview she left right away."

“Yeah, I don't believe it either. She's lying about something, but I can't think of why. We have the testimony from her coworker as to when it occurred, and there's no way he's lying since he still would have reported her missing before it got dark."

Pensive, he grabs his cooling coffee and takes a grimacing swig. “So do you think this is connected to the murders?"

“I don't know, I sigh. “Maybe there's something more going on. Maybe this really is just overaggressive wildlife and I shouldn't have bothered trying to get ahold of the spooks again." I lie, warring with myself over whether to tell him the truth; to let him know everything.

He may have seen it. The mind fills in the blanks when it doesn't know what it's looking at, but given hints of the truth... we could learn more about our enemy.

Marty leans back in his chair and looks to the ceiling, taking long moments in thought before throwing up his hands. “Werewolves? Carey's a werewolf. Mauled people, she's a ranger, she knows the area, hey? Had an issue or something and drove off the road."

Hah, if only. Wrong monster movie theme.

He smirks. “Nah, 'course not. Didn't look all hairy and stuff in the grocer's."

I grab a cold donut. “Right, well that's everything I needed from you. Keep those copies of the reports."

He eyes the pastry with a look of mock betrayal. “See you, sir. I'll let you know if Dylan turns into a wereman. He'd be the best K9 in Canada."

He's definitely feeling better after yesterday.

---

People murmur and mutter from beyond the barricades at the alley's entrance, trying to get a look past the officer resolutely attempting to block pictures and video.

“So uh... this is new. I know I was joking about werewolves before, but this..."

Despite the head being missing and the heart torn out, there's very little blood at this new scene; just droplets all over the place where there should really be pools.

“Don't say it, Marty."

“You've gotta admit, sir..."

“Don't."

“Aggressive blood donation campaigns?"

The man becomes a smartass when he's stressed. “Is that what you did to land this job? Make the wrong joke at the wrong time?" I snap.

His face turns whiter than the corpse's would be and I instantly regret my words.

I sigh. “Marty, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

He turns and looks off, exhaling. “It's alright. I'm over it. Me and Dylan are better off here. It's quieter."

I turn awkwardly to John, who's photographing the body. It'll be hours until the forensics team shows up again-again, so we might as well get a bit of the work out of the way and our own images for the report.

“Hey, stop a sec, John. Let me take a look."

I'm not a forensics specialist, but anyone can tell there's a million things wrong with this body. Squatting down by the head something immediately jumps out to me.

“This looks... cleaner, than Mr. Henderson. Just the head gone, severed relatively neatly at the neck. The complete opposite of Mr. Hart."

The body was found by an officer on foot patrol dissuading vandals and thieves from the surrounding stores; people who'd gotten used to free rein during the evacuation. He'd been chasing a suspect when he came across this poor bastard.

“No arterial spray from the head being cut off. He was dead and his blood was gone before it happened, but that just leaves the question of where everything went."

There's no readily discernible cause of death. The head and heart are gone--which would normally instantly kill somebody, of course--but those were post-mortem injuries. It's like he died elsewhere and was brought here, but the head and heart were definitely removed on-scene judging by the small pools beneath. This has to be connected to Watson, Henderson, and Hart, but the methodologies are all different.

Watson was missing all five of his limbs and his heart after being dragged from his tent to the river's shore. The wounds were all clearly bites aside from those to the torso, which were savaged by claw marks and stabs.

Only Henderson's head was gone--along with his clothes for whatever reason--but the wound was simply one giant bite taken out of him. He died in the forest off the side of the road, but his footprints in the mud showed that he ran there of his own volition. Perhaps he would have had port-mortem wounds as well if I hadn't interrupted.

Mr. Hart... well, you'd have an easier time listing what was left instead of missing. Various bones, his gastrointestinal tract, and what must have been all of his blood rather than none of it.

This unknown man didn't have his driver's license on him when he died; only a wallet full of crumpled bills. We'll need to identify him by his fingerprints. He died of what was likely blood loss before having his head and heart stolen, and only his head and heart. Normally serial killers adopt some sort of method, modus operandi, 'thing they do.' It excites them to do it, so they do it. The only trend between all victims is the bite wounds, missing heads, and looking like they've been eaten from.

Normally, serial killers are human.

As I stand back up my eyes catch a spot of darker red on the old bricks making up the shop's wall. Striding over to get a better look, I find painted on it a brutal calling card:

A ginormous red handprint.

My mind goes back to the attempted warning of my erstwhile visitor:

'Be worry. Bad animal here too.'

It was nonsensical, but the poor guy could only barely speak english. Suddenly, it's not so weird. I'd known--I'd suspected--but this just confirms it.

Pulling out my phone I take a picture of the hand and navigate to my gallery, to the picture I'd taken of the image left on Carey's phone's screen. From the night shadows is the visage of a great brown beast, four eyes glowing and blood coating its jaws. It's blurry beyond recognition but with everything I've seen since then... now I know for sure.

“Marty," I call. “Meet me in my office when we get back. There's something I need to talk to you about..."

ARC FOUR: PARADIGMS

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A/N:

So: this coming arc... has a lot that really goes on in it. As the middle of the story, we will see Emeral finally make something of her experiences and everything she has learned. She's a long way from home and has encountered many new concepts which have challenged her beliefs and forced her to adapt. There are some things which she will have to accept if she wants to survive on Earth, and now is the time for her to show whether she will.

As well, Harper is finally faced with concrete evidence left behind by Emeral. Keen readers may have noticed me very explicitly writing that Emeral leant her bloody hand on the wall for support.