Page 36 of Feral Gods

"Perhaps there's a compromise," Zephyr suggests after a moment. "I could examine the pendant more thoroughly, determine its exact capabilities and limitations. With proper understanding, we might neutralize its tracking or communication functions while preserving the artifact itself."

Relief washes through me at his practical solution. "You could do that?"

"With time and careful study," he confirms. "Purna artifacts operate on principles similar to other magical constructs, despite their unique approach to energy manipulation."

Ravik considers this, amber eyes moving from the pendant to my face and back again.

Whatever he sees in my expression appears to influence his decision.

"Very well. Zephyr will study the artifact under controlled conditions.

Until we understand its capabilities fully, it remains sealed in a neptherium containment box. "

The compromise satisfies both security concerns and my emotional attachment to this unexpected connection to my past. "Thank you."

"This changes nothing about our immediate situation," Ravik continues, his commanding tone returning. "Our position is compromised. We move at first light to the secondary location we scouted three days ago."

No one argues with this assessment, not even me.

Whatever Lyra's personal intentions, her knowledge of our location represents genuine threat.

Thane immediately begins organizing our limited possessions for rapid departure, while Zephyr constructs a makeshift containment box for the pendant using materials from our salvaged supplies.

As preparations progress around me, I find myself drawn to the cave entrance, gazing out at the star-filled sky above Causadurn Ridge.

The vastness that comforted me earlier now seems to emphasize how small our struggle remains in the grand scheme of Protheka's conflicts.

Somewhere beyond these mountains, a coven of my blood-relatives seeks to reclaim me for purposes I cannot fully trust. In the opposite direction, King Kres marshals dark elf forces to capture a magical resource he never knew existed within his household.

And here I stand, caught between these powerful factions, still struggling to reconcile the slave girl I was with the purna descendant I'm becoming.

"Your thoughts are troubled."

I turn to find Zephyr beside me, his silver-gray form almost luminous in the starlight. "How could they not be?" I reply with a weak smile. "Every day brings new complications to an already impossible situation."

"Not impossible," he corrects gently. "Merely unprecedented. Which, from a scholarly perspective, makes it rather fascinating."

The academic detachment in his tone draws a genuine laugh from me. "I'm glad my identity crisis provides intellectual stimulation."

His expression softens, turquoise eyes reflecting genuine concern beneath scholarly interest. "It provides far more than that, Kaia. You have brought purpose back to our existence—not merely through breaking our curse, but through reminding us what it means to care for something beyond survival."

The simple sincerity of his statement touches me deeply. "Even with all the danger I've brought down on you?"

"Especially then," he affirms. "Meaning rarely emerges from comfort or safety. It grows from challenge, from choice, from commitment maintained despite difficulty."

His wisdom, as always, offers perspective beyond my immediate concerns. "The purna scout—Lyra—she tried to convince me you three value me only for my bloodline and magical potential. That you've manipulated my gratitude and isolation to bind me to you."

Zephyr considers this accusation with characteristic thoroughness rather than immediate denial. "A reasonable tactical approach to sowing doubt," he observes. "Particularly effective given your history of exploitation and the unavoidable power differential between us."

"That's not a denial," I point out, studying his expression.

"Because partial truth makes the most effective deception," he explains.

"Did we initially value your role in breaking our curse?

Unquestionably. Does your purna heritage represent significant magical and strategic importance?

Certainly. But to suggest these factors represent the totality of your value to us demonstrates profound misunderstanding of what has developed between us. "

"And what has developed?" I ask, the question emerging more vulnerable than intended.

His gaze holds mine with unusual directness for one typically so measured in emotional matters. "Something none of us anticipated or fully comprehended even now. Connection beyond utility. Care beyond strategy. Perhaps even—" He hesitates, searching for the precise term. "Devotion."

The word hangs between us, weighted with implications neither of us seems quite ready to examine directly. After a moment, Zephyr gestures to the pendant now safely contained in his neptherium box.

"I cannot promise what truths this artifact may reveal about your past," he says, returning to more comfortable practical ground. "But I can promise that whatever you discover, whatever you become, your place among us remains secure—not because of blood or magic, but because of who you are."

"And who am I?" I ask the question that has haunted me since Zephyr first revealed my purna heritage.

His answer comes without hesitation. "Kaia.

Survivor. Protector. The woman who faced dark elf hunters and purna witches with equal courage.

Who tends wounds and prepares meals with the same care she manifests magical barriers.

Who challenges three fearsome gargoyles when necessary and comforts them when needed.

" A rare smile softens his scholarly features.

"Your identity transcends both the slave girl you were and the purna witch you might become.

It resides in choices made, not circumstances given. "

The wisdom in his assessment resonates with something deep within me—a truth I've been struggling toward without fully recognizing. My heritage may provide context for abilities I'm only beginning to understand, but it doesn't define the person I choose to be moving forward.

"Thank you," I say simply, the words inadequate for the clarity his perspective has provided.

Inside the cave, Ravik and Thane continue preparations for tomorrow's departure, their powerful forms moving with practiced efficiency despite the confined space.

I watch them for a moment, these beings who have become more essential to me than I ever anticipated when I stumbled into their sanctuary less than two weeks ago.

Whatever complications my newly discovered heritage brings, whatever dangers still pursue us across Protheka's wilderness, one truth emerges with crystalline clarity: my place is here, with these three improbable protectors who have become the family I never expected to find.

Not because blood or magic or destiny demands it, but because I choose it. Freely. Completely.

And in that choice, perhaps, lies the beginning of my true identity—neither slave nor witch, but simply, powerfully, my own.