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Our Hist recognizes the waste, the selfishness of the other tribes. They enjoy a plentiful existence in their sun-kissed lands. Their Hist want for nothing and neither do they. Even their eggs are in such excess supply that their Hist has no use for them. Whole nests cast aside. Forgotten. They've never known the pain of having entire clutches swallowed by the leviathans of the deep mire. They forget that withered roots swell with life given the right care. I will find a purpose for these hollow shells and our Hist will again wind its roots around a bountiful clutch.
—
Failures. Many failures. It was to be expected. Breathing true life into these hollow eggs will not be so simple as coaxing discarded flesh to remember the act of living.
—
The Black-Tongue elixirs goad the eggs' growth, but it is a wild, uncontrolled thing. Tumorous lumps of primordial flesh are a far cry from what I seek, but they are life. What it needs is a guide. I know what must be done.
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I see the beginnings of what could have been Saxhleel. At first a tooth, or a scale, or a spine among the formless masses that hatch from the eggs. The sap knows what to do, but elements are still missing. In time I will know the answer to this puzzle.
—
I have created life. Short-lived, but life all the same. The Saxhleel that hatched are malformed and few survived beyond a matter of hours, but I am on the correct path.
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As I hatch more and more of these eggs, I now understand just how far I am from what I seek. Every peak I overcome reveals a mountain taller than the last. Advancing the growth of the hatchlings has given them the constitution to endure, but even as I eliminate many of their physical deformities, it becomes clear that they are hollow. Saxhleel only in form. I must remind myself that each one brings me one step closer to the goal.
—
We have had to cage the Hollow that survive their hatching. Some possess an instinct, if not an intellect. They seem drawn to something we can't see and respond with hostility to any interference. Even the lame ones require far too much diligence to adequately watch. I suspect I've lost more than one already, but I can hardly keep track of so many failures.
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I will count today a triumph, if not a victory. Combining Veeskhleel rituals with my alchemy has produced a healthy Saxhleel. It is docile compared to the Hollow, but there is little recognition in its eyes. I can sense its soul, but I cannot tell if the possession was flawed or the body remains unfit for inhabitation.
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I have a stable formula, but I've made no progress adapting my rituals and my previous success has not developed any improved awareness. I have sunken too deep in the mire along this path. It's time to step back and explore other paths.
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I lost quite a few eggs testing the limits of my elixirs, but more are coming and the cost was worth it. Two have produced Saxhleel, the likes of which I've never seen. Unlike the other Hollow, they are far from pale. Their markings are brilliantly colored, and their skin exudes elements of my mixtures that are quite fatal, even to us. I've had them sequestered for safe study.
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I have high hopes for this new formula. The egg's growth is beyond all expectations. I can only hope that the soul binding rituals bore similar results.