Page 17 of Feral Gods

THANE

B lood sings beneath my obsidian skin as I stalk through the dense forest of Causadurn Ridge, every sense attuned to the morning wilderness.

The snow has retreated to patchy islands amid the emerging spring growth, leaving the ground soft and ideal for tracking.

Ahead of me, Kaia moves with surprising stealth for a human, her steps careful and deliberate as I've instructed.

"There," I whisper, pointing to a set of three-pronged tracks pressed into the soft earth. "Dae. Female, by the depth and size. Traveling alone."

Kaia crouches, her slender fingers hovering above the impression without touching it. "How can you tell she's alone?"

"Daette rarely travel without their young in spring unless separated from the herd.

" I kneel beside her, close enough that my wing brushes against her back.

The contact sends an unexpected ripple of awareness through my body.

"See how she pauses here? Listening, uncertain.

A daette with her herd moves with confidence. "

Kaia's scent washes over me—clean snow and wild honey with an undercurrent of something distinctly her .

The possessive instinct that's been growing since her magical display yesterday claws at my insides.

She belongs with us now, not just as our ward or the temple's miraculous key, but as something more.

Something primal that even my battle-hardened mind struggles to define.

"You're a surprisingly patient teacher," she says, glancing up with those forest-green eyes that somehow make me feel simultaneously powerful and disarmed.

I bare my teeth in what might pass for a smile. "Don't spread that rumor. I've a reputation to maintain."

Her laugh—a sound still rare enough to be precious—ripples through the clearing. "Your secret's safe with me, fearsome gargoyle."

The teasing light in her eyes makes my chest tighten in ways that have nothing to do with battle-lust or hunger. I rise abruptly, uncomfortable with the sensation.

"Come. If we track her carefully, she'll lead us to the herd. Fresh meat for the sanctuary."

We move through the underbrush, my massive form somehow making less noise than I would have expected. Centuries as a warrior taught me stealth before I was cursed into stone, and those skills have returned with surprising swiftness.

"Why did you suggest this hunt?" Kaia asks as we follow the tracks deeper into the forest. "Ravik wasn't pleased."

The memory of Ravik's thunderous expression when I proposed taking Kaia beyond the temple's immediate protection brings a rumble of satisfaction to my chest. Our commander grows too possessive, too quickly. The human deserves to learn survival beyond stone walls.

"Ravik forgets you survived six years in Vathren's household and a blizzard that would kill most of your kind," I reply. "You're not porcelain to be sheltered. You're steel to be tempered."

Something flickers across her face—surprise, perhaps, or appreciation. She's not accustomed to being seen as capable rather than fragile.

"Besides," I add, "you need to understand the land surrounding our sanctuary. If enemies breach our defenses again, knowledge of escape routes could mean the difference between freedom and recapture."

The practical justification satisfies us both, though neither acknowledges the deeper truth—that I simply wanted her company, away from Ravik's domineering presence and Zephyr's scholarly lectures.

We track the daette for nearly an hour, moving deeper into the ridge's forested slopes. The trees grow denser here, ancient tiphe giants whose twisted branches create a canopy that dapples the forest floor with shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Kaia stops suddenly, her head tilted. "Do you hear that?"

I freeze, extending my senses beyond our immediate surroundings.

At first, I detect nothing unusual—the whisper of wind through branches, the distant call of mynahs, the subtle movements of small creatures in the underbrush.

Then I catch it: a faint hum, like the vibration of a plucked string, coming from somewhere ahead.

"Stay behind me," I command, instinctively placing myself between her and the unknown sound.

"What is it?" she whispers, pressing close to my back.

"Magic," I growl. "Not dark elf. Different."

We advance cautiously until we reach a small clearing dominated by a singular, ancient tiphe tree. Its trunk, wide enough that five humans might struggle to encircle it with joined hands, rises like a gnarled tower into the canopy. But it's what surrounds the base that stops us both cold.

Symbols have been carved into the forest floor in a perfect circle around the tree—delicate, flowing sigils that pulse with a faint violet light. I recognize some from the sanctuary's defenses that Zephyr has been teaching Kaia, but others are unfamiliar and distinctly... feminine in their design.

"Purna markings," I hiss, wings extending partially in instinctive threat display. "Fresh. Days old at most."

Kaia steps forward as if drawn by the sigils. I catch her arm, my claws gentle against her soft skin.

"Don't approach," I warn. "Purna magic is treacherous. It responds to blood and intent in ways even Zephyr doesn't fully understand."

Her eyes remain fixed on the circle. "It feels... familiar somehow. Like the sigils in the temple, but wilder. Less structured."

The admission confirms what we've all begun to suspect since her display of power yesterday. Blood calls to blood, magic to magic. If Kaia indeed descends from purna lineage, these markings would naturally resonate with her dormant abilities.

I scan the surrounding forest, every warrior instinct alert for danger. "Someone wove powerful protection magic here. Recently."

"Protection against what?" Kaia asks.

Before I can answer, a twig snaps in the distance—too deliberate to be wildlife. In one fluid motion, I pull Kaia against my chest and unfurl my wings, creating a living shield around her smaller form.

"We're being watched," I whisper against her hair, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

She nods against my chest, her heartbeat quickening but steady. Not panic—awareness. Again, I'm struck by her resilience. Most humans would be trembling with fear by now.

Through a gap in the branches, I catch movement—a cloaked figure sliding between trees approximately fifty paces east, moving parallel to our position. The figure pauses, head turning in our direction as if sensing our presence despite the considerable distance.

I catch a glimpse beneath the hood—not the violet eyes of a dark elf, but a human face, aged and weathered, with eyes that seem to glow with an inner light even at this distance.

Purna. Has to be.

The figure raises a hand, palm out—not in threat but in acknowledgment. Then, with unnatural speed, she vanishes deeper into the forest.

Only when I'm certain she's gone do I loosen my protective embrace around Kaia, though some primal part of me resists even this slight separation.

"Was that...?" Kaia doesn't finish the question.

"Yes." I gather her closer to my side, one wing still partially mantled around her shoulders. "An old one, by the look of her. Powerful."

"She didn't attack," Kaia observes, her voice steady despite the encounter.

"No." This troubles me more than an outright assault would have. "She observed. Assessed."

"Me," Kaia says quietly. "She was watching me, wasn't she?"

I don't insult her intelligence with false reassurance. "Most likely. If you carry purna blood, as your magic yesterday suggests, you would be of great interest to any surviving covens."

Kaia's shoulders straighten beneath my wing. "Then we should return to the sanctuary. Ravik and Zephyr need to know we're facing threats beyond King Kres's forces."

I nod, reluctantly impressed by her practical response to danger. No tears, no hysterics—just clear-eyed assessment and decisive action. She continues to defy my expectations of her kind.

As we turn to leave, Kaia pauses, looking back at the warded tree. "Wait. There's something else."

Before I can stop her, she steps toward the edge of the sigil circle, careful not to cross its boundary. Kneeling, she points to a small object partially buried beneath fallen leaves.

"There."

With admirable caution, she uses a stick rather than her fingers to brush aside the debris, revealing a small leather pouch marked with symbols that match those in the circle.

"Don't touch it," I warn.

"I won't." She studies it from a safe distance. "But it was left deliberately, just at the circle's edge. Almost like..."

"A gift," I finish, understanding dawning. "Or an offering."

Our eyes meet, the implications clear. The purna wasn't merely observing—she was leaving something for Kaia to find.

After a moment's consideration, I remove a small hunting knife from my belt. Using its tip, I carefully lift the pouch without touching it directly.

"Risky," Kaia says.

"Less risky than leaving it for others to find," I counter. "Zephyr can examine it safely at the sanctuary."

I secure the pouch in an outer pocket of my hunting satchel, maintaining the barrier between it and my skin. The forest suddenly feels less welcoming, shadows deeper, sounds more ominous.

"Our hunting expedition is over," I announce. "We return now."

Kaia doesn't argue, falling into step beside me as we begin the journey back to the temple. I keep her close, senses hypervigilant for any sign of the purna woman or other threats.

"Do you think she meant me harm?" Kaia asks after we've put considerable distance between ourselves and the warded tree.

I consider the question carefully. "Not immediately. Purna are calculating. Strategic. If she wanted you dead, she would have struck while you were vulnerable and alone in the blizzard, before you reached our sanctuary."

"Then what does she want?"

"That," I growl, "is what concerns me. Purna witches rarely want anything simple or benign."

We walk in silence for a time, the weight of this new threat settling between us.

I find myself studying Kaia's profile as she navigates the forest path—the determined set of her jaw, the watchful intelligence in her eyes, the graceful economy of her movements.

Despite her small stature and apparent fragility, there's an undeniable strength in her that I'm beginning to appreciate more with each passing day.

"You're staring," she says without looking at me.

I don't deny it. "You continue to surprise me."

"Because I haven't collapsed in terror yet?" A wry smile curves her lips.

"Because you adapt. You learn. You face each new threat with calculation rather than panic." I duck beneath a low-hanging branch. "These are not typical human traits in my experience."

"Perhaps you've known the wrong humans," she suggests.

"Perhaps." Or perhaps she is simply exceptional. The thought unsettles me more than I care to admit.

We're within sight of the sanctuary when I catch the scent of blood—fresh, recent, and unmistakably dark elf. I halt immediately, one arm extended to stop Kaia.

"What is it?" she whispers, instantly alert.

"Someone's been here. Recently." I scan the forest edge where the trees meet the rocky approach to the temple. "Dark elf blood was spilled."

Ravik emerges from the sanctuary entrance, his massive obsidian form instantly recognizable. His amber eyes lock onto us—or more specifically, onto my wing still partially curved around Kaia's shoulders.

"Scout," he calls, approaching with powerful strides. "Tried to infiltrate while you were gone. I dealt with him."

His gaze shifts meaningfully to my protective posture. I withdraw my wing slowly, not out of submission but strategic calculation. Now is not the time for dominance displays, not with multiple threats converging.

"We found something," I announce. "Purna activity in the forest. Recent."

Ravik's expression darkens, wings mantling slightly. "Show me."

I retrieve the pouch from my satchel, careful not to touch it directly. "This was left at a warded site approximately two miles east. Powerful protection sigils surrounding an ancient tiphe tree."

"And we were watched," Kaia adds. "A cloaked woman. She seemed to recognize me somehow."

Ravik's attention snaps to her, intense and focused. "You saw a purna witch? How close?"

"Fifty paces, perhaps," I answer before Kaia can respond. "She made no aggressive move. Merely observed, then departed."

"After leaving this." Ravik gestures to the pouch with obvious suspicion.

"We need Zephyr," Kaia says. "He'll know what to make of it."

Ravik nods curtly. "Inside. Both of you." His tone brooks no argument, and for once, I don't feel inclined to challenge his authority. The situation has grown more complex than anticipated.

As we enter the sanctuary, I notice Kaia glancing back at the forest edge, her expression troubled yet curious. The purna witch's appearance has affected her deeply, raising questions about her own nature that none of us can yet answer.

"You did well today," I tell her quietly as we follow Ravik into the temple depths.

She looks up, surprised by the praise. "I didn't do anything."

"You maintained composure. Observed carefully. Made sound decisions." I allow a rare hint of approval to color my voice. "Not every battle is fought with claws and fangs, little human."

A faint blush colors her cheeks, and something stirs in my chest—a protective instinct tinged with another emotion I'm not yet ready to name. Whatever threats gather beyond our walls, one thing becomes increasingly clear: Kaia is no longer merely our ward or the key to our awakening.

She is becoming essential in ways that transcend duty or obligation. The realization should trouble me more than it does.

As we descend into the inner sanctum where Zephyr awaits with his ancient texts and scholarly insights, I find myself lingering half a step behind Kaia, watching the subtle sway of her movements, the quiet determination in her bearing.

The purna witch saw something in her worth observing, worth approaching despite the risk of encountering three awakened gargoyles.

I'm beginning to understand why.