A jolt. Not a gentle awakening, but a sudden pulling back from the bottomless blackness of unconsciousness. Kaer'Zhul gasped for air, his heart hammering erratically against his ribs like a trapped bird. For a confusing moment, he didn't know where he was. The darkness was no longer absolute but gave way to a diffuse gray seeping through the cave entrance. The air was cool and smelled of damp earth, moss, and the unmistakable, wild scent of the wolf. He was still lying on the dry leaves, the warmth of Fenrir's body a tangible presence beside him. His own limbs felt heavy and clumsy, as if they didn't really belong to him. The pain had subsided to a dull throb, but the deep exhaustion still sat in his bones.
Fenrir's golden eyes were already watching him intently. The wolf hadn't moved, but his posture radiated an alert presence. "You are awake, Ancient One," Fenrir said, his voice a low, respectful growl. "The night gives way to morning. How do you feel? What are your plans for this new day?"
Kaer'Zhul let out a low growl and tried to sit up. It was a laborious process; his muscles obeyed reluctantly, trembling under the strain. "This body..." he hissed contemptuously, "...is still an inadequate tool." He finally managed to lean his back against the cool rock wall. "My plan? First, I must learn to master this flesh prison. It needs nourishment, warmth... a fire would be... acceptable." The thought of cooked meat was strangely less repulsive than the memory of the raw deer. He fixed his gaze on Fenrir. "However, before we continue... You, wolf. You called yourself a guardian, a spirit of the forest. Can you wield magic?"
Fenrir blinked slowly. "I can guide the currents of the forest, Ancient One. Not in the explosive way of human mages, but more subtly. I can speak with the plants, understand the animals, summon mist, or conceal my form in shadow. It is a magic that comes from the earth itself, learned over countless seasons of listening and observing."
Kaer'Zhul nodded slowly. Primitive nature magic, then. Useful perhaps, but not what he needed. His gaze wandered to his own hand. He had to find a way to access the immense power slumbering within him. It was there, he felt it like an underground sea, but access was blocked, sealed by Aeliria's curse and the limitations of this body. A vague memory surfaced in his mind, a fragment of knowledge gleaned over eons while eavesdropping on the thoughts of lesser beings. They spoke of concentrating their minds, looking inward to feel and direct their inner power – their 'aura,' as they called it. Meditation. A concept that had seemed absurd to him as a god. Why meditate when one could bend reality with a thought? But now... now he was no longer a god in his full power.
"Ridiculous," he muttered, but the idea wouldn't leave him. If these mortals could ignite a spark of power in this way, then it should be easy for him, Kaer'Zhul, to find a way. He stretched out his hand, concentrated his will, trying to force the divine essence to manifest. He visualized a flame, pushing the energy outward. A tiny, bluish spark flickered above his palm, barely larger than a firefly, and immediately extinguished with a faint hiss. A pathetic result. Frustration burned hotly in his throat.
"No," he said to himself, his voice a tense whisper. "Not by force." He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to become calmer, even though it felt unnatural. "I will try it their way. I will listen inward." He turned back to Fenrir. "Wolf. I need time. Undisturbed. Bring water. Something... edible. And wood for a fire."
Fenrir inclined his head in silent agreement. "As you command, Ancient One." With a fluid movement, the wolf rose and slipped silently out of the cave to carry out the orders.
Kaer'Zhul was alone. He closed his eyes again, leaning his head against the cool stone, trying to block out the external world – the throbbing in his temples, the soft rustle of the wind outside, the smell of the cave. He focused on the darkness behind his eyelids, searching for the feeling of his inner essence. It wasn't easy. This body was loud. The incessant beating of the heart, the soft rushing of blood in his ears, the tingling in his limbs – all distractions he had never noticed before. His mind, accustomed to spanning the universe, felt confined, trapped behind the bones of his skull. Yet he forced himself to be calm. He took deep breaths, trying to impose some regularity on the shallow gasps.
Slowly, very slowly, he began to feel something. Not the ocean of power he had expected. More like a faint whisper. A distant glimmer deep in his chest, behind the annoying thumping of his heart. It was his essence, muted, veiled, but unmistakably him. It felt like a trapped star, pulsing weakly against the walls of its prison. He tried to approach this feeling, to touch it, but it was like reaching through thick syrup. Every attempt to direct or amplify the energy met with invisible resistance. It was frustrating, exhausting. But it was a start. A tiny crack in the wall of his isolation. He clung to this faint whisper, this distant glimmer, and sank deeper into the unfamiliar silence of meditation.
Hour after hour passed as Kaer'Zhul remained focused. The outside world faded further. He began to perceive the subtle currents of his essence better. The glimmer grew a little brighter, the whisper a little clearer. It was as if a long-closed eye was slowly opening. He felt the energy, though still greatly dampened, flow a little more freely, like a trickle finding its way through clogged debris. It was infinitely far from the tidal wave he had once commanded, but it was more than before.
Just as he began to explore the fine nuances of this inner current, Fenrir returned. The wolf carried a bundle of dry branches in his mouth, laid it carefully in the center of the cave, and placed some gnarled roots and a large leaf filled with water beside it. Kaer'Zhul opened his eyes. The return to the physical world was abrupt, but the connection to his essence remained, a low hum beneath his skin. He looked at the piled wood. Fire. Warmth. A small step back towards civilization, even if it was a civilization he despised.
He raised his hand again, fingers slightly spread, and concentrated. Not on brute force, but on the quiet whisper in his chest. He didn't pull the energy out by force, but coaxed it, invited it to show itself. He formed the image of a small, controlled flame in his mind and gently directed the feeling of energy towards it. This time it was different. Not a pathetic spark that immediately died out. Instead, a small, flickering flame sprang from his palm, barely larger than his thumb, but steady and warm. It danced for a moment in the air, casting flickering shadows on the cave wall, before he directed it onto the dry wood with a pure effort of will. The tinder caught fire immediately, small orange tongues licking at the branches and beginning to consume them with a soft crackle.
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A laugh escaped Kaer'Zhul's throat. It wasn't a happy laugh, but a dry, triumphant sound that echoed off the walls. Fire! He had made fire! Not by friction like an animal, but by his will, by a tiny spark of his true power. "Do you see, Wolf?" he said, without looking directly at Fenrir, his gaze fixed on the growing flame. "It begins. This cage won't hold me forever." A cold smile played on his lips. "If it's this easy... then it's only a matter of time. A few days, perhaps weeks in this pathetic world, and I'll be able to do more than just light wood. Much more." The arrogance in his voice was unmistakable, fueled by this small but significant success. The path back to power might be long, but he had taken the first step.
Fenrir watched the spectacle with calm intensity, his golden eyes reflecting the dancing flames. He made no move to praise or reprimand the god, but waited. When the fire burned steadily, spreading a pleasant warmth in the cave, the wolf gently nudged the roots he had brought with his snout. "The fire is good, Ancient One. It warms and keeps the shadows away," Fenrir said in his deep voice. Then he tilted his head slightly towards the roots and then towards the fire. "I have watched the humans when they camp in the woods. They often hold their food in such flames before consuming it." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "They say it... changes the food. Makes it softer, the taste... different."
Kaer'Zhul cast a contemptuous glance at the earthy roots. Cooked food. Another primitive habit of these feeble creatures. "The barbaric methods of vermin do not interest me," he snorted. His pride rebelled against adopting anything from humans. But then he remembered the taste of the raw deer. The tough meat, the metallic taste of blood, the effort of chewing. His stomach clenched at the memory. He looked at the fire, then at the roots. Warmth. Change. Perhaps...
With a suppressed sigh of frustration, he reached for one of the roots. It was hard and earthy. He looked for a pointed branch, broke it off, and painstakingly speared the root onto it. It was a clumsy movement; his fingers were not yet accustomed to such fine manipulations. He held the branch with the root over the flames. At first, nothing happened, then the earthy surface of the root began to turn black, and a strange, slightly sweet smell arose, mingling with the smoke from the wood. It wasn't a pleasant smell, but it was different from that of raw earth. After a while, he pulled the root from the fire. It was hot, charred in places. He blew on it to cool it down, another instinctive, human reflex that annoyed him. Hesitantly, he bit into it. The outer layer was crispy, almost bitter, but underneath, the flesh of the root had become softer, almost creamy, with a mild, slightly sweet taste. It was... edible. More than that, it was significantly better than the raw version. It was still a meager meal, far from the divine energy he craved, but it was an improvement. A small, reluctantly accepted lesson from the creatures he despised.
He ate the root silently, his gaze fixed on the fire so as not to have to look at Fenrir. He had used a human method. And it had worked. Another disgrace. But also another small step towards survival. After finishing the last root, he wiped the ash from his fingers. The cooked food had satisfied his hunger better than the raw meat, and he felt... less weak. A reluctant concession to the usefulness of human practices. If cooked roots were already such an improvement, how would cooked meat taste? The thought was almost tempting.
He turned his gaze to the wolf, who watched him patiently. "Wolf," Kaer'Zhul said, his tone now sharper, more imperious. "These roots are... sufficient. But this body demands more substance." He made a dismissive gesture towards the cave entrance. "Bring meat. Something that can be prepared over this fire. And don't waste my time." Despite the commanding tone, there was an unspoken acknowledgment in the air – the realization that mortal methods, however primitive, had some value under these circumstances. Fenrir seemed to understand this. Without another word, the great wolf rose, gave Kaer'Zhul one last, inscrutable look, and disappeared silently again into the awakening forest to obey the fallen god's command.
While Fenrir was gone, Kaer'Zhul reached for the large leaf the wolf had filled with water. He lifted it carefully – it was surprisingly sturdy – and drank from it. The water was cool and tasted of earth and leaves, but it quenched the thirst that had settled in his throat. Another necessity of this body that he had to fulfill.
It wasn't long before Fenrir returned. This time he carried not a deer, but a smaller, rabbit-like creature with long ears and strong hind legs. To Kaer'Zhul's surprise, the wolf had already expertly skinned the animal; the pink flesh lay cleanly exposed. Fenrir placed the prey beside the fire. "I heard your desire for meat, Ancient One," the wolf said. "This one is more tender than the deer. The humans... they often put it on a stick and hold it over the flames until it turns dark brown on the outside, but not black and burnt. That way the juice stays inside, they say." Again, this casual reference to human methods, this time even with practical instructions.
Kaer'Zhul growled softly. He hated being dependent on the advice of an animal, especially when that advice came from the despised humans. But the memory of the surprisingly palatable root and the sight of the fresh meat made his pride crumble again. He found a suitable straight branch, speared the rabbit onto it – a procedure that still felt clumsy to him – and held it over the crackling flames. The smell that soon arose was different from that of the roots. A hearty, almost delicious aroma of roasting meat filled the cave. Fat dripped sizzling into the fire. Kaer'Zhul slowly turned the stick, trying to distribute the heat evenly, as the wolf had suggested. He made sure the meat took on an appetizing dark brown color without burning. When he thought it was ready, he pulled the stick back. The meat steamed and smelled intense.
With a mixture of reluctance and curiosity, he tore off a piece. It was hot, tender, and juicy. The taste was incomparably better than anything he had consumed in this world so far. It wasn't just edible, it was... good. Almost satisfying. He devoured the whole rabbit greedily, the initial contempt giving way to an almost animalistic pleasure. This meal, prepared according to the human method, gave him strength back. He felt the energy flow into his muscles, the leaden fatigue subside a little. After he finished, he involuntarily licked his greasy fingers – another gesture that horrified him as soon as he noticed it. But the strengthening was undeniable. He felt clearer in the head, the body less like a foreign object.
This new strength sparked a realization in him. He had focused on reclaiming his magic, on tapping into his essence. But he had neglected the vessel. This body was weak, untrained. Even if he managed to release more of his power, this pathetic vessel might not be able to withstand it. It could shatter under the force of his own energy. "I must strengthen this body," he muttered, more to himself than to Fenrir, who had curled up again. "Just sharpening the mind is not enough. The vessel must be equal to the power."
Determination flickered in his eyes. He stood up, this time with less effort than before. The sun was already low in the sky, casting long shadows through the cave entrance and bathing the forest outside in golden light. "The body needs movement," he said, stepping out of the protective darkness of the cave into the forest. The cool evening air hit him, carrying the scent of pines and damp leaves. He had to train this puny body, force it to become stronger, so that one day it could again bear the full might of the god Kaer'Zhul. The path was long, but he had just begun.
