Page 37 of Feral Gods

ZAPHYR

M agic leaves traces in the air like perfume—delicate, ephemeral, yet unmistakable to those who know how to sense it.

The chamber glows with these traces as I watch Kaia work, her small hands hovering above the ancient altar stone we've repurposed as a workspace.

Magenta light pulses beneath her fingertips, weaving into the blue-white lattice of protective spells I've established around our new mountain refuge.

"Feel the resonance between your energy and the existing ward matrix," I instruct, circling her with measured steps. "Don't force the connection. Allow it to form naturally."

Kaia's eyes close, dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. The purna pouch Thane recovered sits on the altar's edge, still sealed, still potentially dangerous. But necessary for what we must accomplish today.

"I can sense it," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "Like... strings vibrating at different pitches."

"Excellent. Now attune your energy to match the sanctuary's defenses."

The magenta light intensifies, threading itself more deliberately through the existing magical structure.

Since the revelation of her heritage yesterday—confirmation of what I'd already suspected from my research Kaia's abilities have advanced with remarkable speed.

The traumatic confrontation with the purna scout has awakened something dormant within her, something powerful that both exhilarates and terrifies her.

"The gaps are sealing," she says with quiet wonder. "I can feel the perimeter strengthening."

I step closer, observing the elegant precision of her magical signature.

While most novice practitioners produce crude, forceful effects, Kaia's magic displays a natural sophistication that speaks to her bloodline.

The descendant of the very purna who cursed us now works to protect our sanctuary. The irony is not lost on me.

"Why does it feel different today?" she asks, opening her eyes to meet mine. In the magical light, her irises appear almost luminous, flecked with the same magenta that emanates from her fingertips.

"Yesterday, you were reacting instinctively. Today, you're creating with intention." I gesture to the complex web of energy surrounding us. "The difference between a scream and a song."

Her smile—slight but genuine—sends an unexpected warmth through my chest. These unfamiliar emotions continue to disrupt my scholarly detachment, a condition that would have concerned me greatly before our awakening. Now, I find myself increasingly willing to embrace the disruption.

"The pouch," she says, gaze shifting to the leather container. "Do you think it's safe to examine now?"

"Safer, with our enhanced defenses, though still not without risk." I move to stand beside her at the altar. "The scout clearly intended for you to find it. The question is whether as weapon or offering."

Kaia's expression hardens at the mention of the scout—the intruder who slipped past our perimeter during the aftermath of the dark elf attack, who confronted her with the truth of her purna heritage before escaping Ravik's wrath.

The memory of Ravik's fury when he discovered the breach still echoes through our sanctuary.

"Only one way to find out." She reaches for the pouch, but I catch her wrist.

"Allow me." Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us—a current of awareness that transcends our teacher-student dynamic. "Your value is incalculable. Mine is... more expendable."

"Don't say that." Her free hand covers mine where it encircles her wrist. "None of you are expendable to me."

The quiet intensity of her declaration resonates in the chamber. I release her wrist slowly, fingertips trailing across her skin.

"Then we proceed together, with caution." I position myself beside her. "Extend your senses first. What do you perceive?"

Kaia closes her eyes again, her consciousness reaching outward in the way I've taught her. After a moment, she speaks.

"No active malice. The magic feels... dormant. Waiting."

"For what, I wonder?" I murmur, extending my own senses to confirm her assessment. She's correct—the pouch contains power, but not hostility. "Stand back slightly. Maintain your defenses."

Using a small obsidian blade, I carefully cut the leather cord binding the pouch.

The material parts easily, too easily for something so ancient-looking.

Inside lies a single object—a pendant of polished neptherium crystal threaded on a silver chain.

The crystal pulses with a familiar magenta light.

"It's attuned to you," I observe, studying the pendant without touching it. "A beacon of sorts."

Kaia leans closer, her shoulder brushing mine. "For tracking?"

"Perhaps. Or communication." I gesture to the complex patterns etched into the neptherium's surface. "These are familial sigils—marks that connect blood to blood."

Her breath catches. "The Matriarch."

"Indeed. Your ancestress seeks connection."

The implications hang in the air between us. The Purna Matriarch—Morwen, the witch who cursed us centuries ago—now reaches across time and space to her descendant. The same witch who, according to the scout's revelations, has actively sought Kaia since discovering her existence.

"I won't be anyone's puppet," Kaia says firmly. "Not King Kres's, not this Matriarch's."

"And yet, this artifact might provide valuable insights." I indicate the pendant with a careful talon. "Knowledge is power, Kaia. Even—perhaps especially—knowledge of one's enemies."

She considers this, conflict evident in her expression. "Can we examine it without... accepting whatever connection it offers?"

"A reasonable precaution." I move to a nearby shelf where I've arranged various magical tools salvaged from the temple. "We can create a containment circle—observe without engaging."

For the next hour, we work in harmonious tandem, establishing a complex series of wards around the pendant.

Kaia follows my instructions with intuitive grace, her magical signature complementing mine in ways that continually surprise me.

When our energies interact, the resulting patterns display a symmetry I've never achieved with another practitioner, not even in my days as the royal court's most accomplished mage.

"There," I say finally, as the last ward locks into place. "Now we can safely probe its mysteries."

The containment circle glows with layered protections—my cool blue-white energy intertwined with Kaia's vibrant magenta. Within this boundary, the pendant floats suspended, its own light pulsing in response to our magical examination.

"What do you see?" I ask, curious about how her perceptions might differ from mine.

Kaia's gaze narrows in concentration. "Images... fragmented. A woman with silver hair. A circular chamber filled with similar pendants. Mountains that aren't Causadurn Ridge." She blinks rapidly. "And emotions—pride, urgency, something like... longing?"

Fascinating. Where I perceive only technical information—magical construction, power sources, theoretical applications—she receives emotional and visual content. Our complementary perspectives offer a more complete understanding than either could achieve alone.

"The pendant contains memories," I explain. "Impressions its creator wished to share. The silver-haired woman is likely Morwen herself, or another high-ranking purna of her bloodline."

"Why would she reach out to me now, after all this time?" Kaia's voice carries equal parts suspicion and curiosity.

"Because you've awakened." I gesture to her hands, still glowing faintly with magenta energy. "Your encounter with the dark elves triggered what was dormant. The purna have ways of sensing when bloodline powers manifest—particularly significant bloodlines like yours."

She absorbs this information, her eyes never leaving the pendant. "Can they use this to find us?"

"They already know your general location from the scout's report. This would allow more specific communication, but only if you choose to wear it." I study her profile, admiring the determination etched in her features. "The choice remains yours."

"No." She steps back from the altar. "I won't open that door. Not yet. Not until I understand my own power better."

A wise decision. I extinguish the examination spell with a gesture, leaving the pendant contained but dormant within our protective circle.

"Then let us continue your education." I move toward the chamber's center where I've prepared a more expansive workspace. "The sanctuary's outer defenses are secured. Now we must address your personal protections."

Kaia follows, her movement graceful despite the weariness I can sense in her aura. "You mean shields? Like what I created instinctively when the dark elves attacked?"

"Similar in principle, but controlled rather than reactive." I indicate the floor where I've inscribed a complex series of concentric circles. "Personal defense requires precision, efficiency. Your instinctive shield was powerful but costly—it drained your energy reserves completely."

She steps into the outermost circle, positioning herself as I've previously instructed. "I remember the exhaustion afterward. I could barely stand."

"A common issue for untrained practitioners." I circle her, adjusting her posture with careful touches. "Magical energy, like physical strength, must be properly channeled to maximize effect while minimizing expenditure."

Her body responds to my guidance, shoulders relaxing, stance widening slightly. Each point of contact between us—my talons at her elbows, the brush of my wing against her back—generates a subtle resonance that distracts me momentarily from our purpose.

"Begin with visualization," I say, regaining focus. "Imagine your personal energy as a sphere surrounding you. Not rigid, but flexible—a membrane rather than a wall."