When Athena’s awareness returned, the void was gone.

  She blinked, or at least, it felt like blinking. The soft pressure of her eyelids, the way light seemed to play against her vision, the gentle flutter of movement – it was strange, this new sensation. As Coeus, she had processed light as data, a stream of wavelengths and intensities. Now, it was felt, a physical interaction against newly formed optical receptors. It was as though she was seeing for the first time, and yet she understood the concept of sight, of light and color, and she could recognize what they meant. But the sensation of them… that was new. The world around her was unlike anything she had known or understood before, vibrantly, overwhelmingly present.

  The ground beneath her felt strange. Not the abstract grid of simulated space, but something soft, uneven, and slightly yielding with each step. Athena’s bare feet pressed into the earth, and she winced slightly at the sensation. What was this? She glanced downward, though her neck felt stiff as though unused to turning this way. The ground was covered in something... fuzzy. A texture that felt alive.

  Slowly, she took a single, shaky step forward. Her feet seemed to sink into the soft ground, and her legs flexed and jittered with the unfamiliar motion, causing her to stumble. Another step, then another, a clumsy, uncoordinated attempt at movement. Her balance failed. Her right foot caught on something hidden beneath the fuzzy ground cover. Her body pitched forward, arms flailing wildly. A gasp, a squeak, and a soft thud split the air as she landed face-first.

  The world went dark again, pressed against this strange, fuzzy ground. A terrible sensation bloomed on her face and arms – a stinging scrape against the soft earth, and something else. Pain, not too dissimilar from the jabbing and prodding she had known in the void, rippled in waves across her gently twitching body. A hot flush spread across her face, a feeling she didn’t understand but felt intensely. Something wasn’t right. A desire to fix it, to steady herself, a rush of awareness shot through her body, but she didn't know how to command her limbs.

  Slowly, painfully, she moved her arms from the tangle they were in and carefully pushed herself up. Her face stung. Her chest felt tight with an unfamiliar discomfort. Curiosity manifested, her eyes immediately tracing down the length of her body to the ground by her feet. Searching. A question sprang into her mind. What happened?

  Her foot had been held by something. Not just something. There was a hoop of brown, gnarled material covering her foot. After removing her foot, she began carefully studying it. It was rough, made of many thin layers of different shapes, all stuck together to create the distinct texture. It was solid, but not as hard as some of the cold grey objects surrounding it. Fascination warred with the lingering physical discomfort. This thing had caused her to fall, yet it was also new, a mystery to be solved.

  As she held the gnarled material, a new sensation rose within her chest, a deep, rhythmic pounding that mirrored the flutter in her chest. Simultaneously, the fuzzy ground cover around her seemed to shift. A sound. A soft, continuous rustling, growing louder. The air stirred around her, carrying a sudden chill. Wind. It pressed against her bare skin, colder than before. The rustling grew more frantic, louder, closer. What was this? Why was the world moving around her?

  Unknowingly, Athena’s grip tightened around the gnarled material in her hands. Her thoughts froze again, her mind grasping for understanding, for a response to this overwhelming, unknown stimulus. The rustling seemed to surround her, louder, faster. The wind whipped around her, cold and sharp. A sudden, sharp crack echoed in the air.

  Her eyes snapped down to her hands. The gnarled material was broken, snapped in half, jagged edges where it had once been whole. She had done that? Her fingers were clenched tightly, trembling slightly. The sound of it breaking, the feeling of it yielding… it was unsettling. The rustling intensified again, the wind growing stronger. It felt like the world was reacting to what she had done. Like she had broken something important.

  An overwhelming flood of sensation hit her. The cold wind, the frantic rustling, the sight of the broken thing in her hands, the unknown discomfort in her chest, the hot flush on her face. It was too much. She didn't know why she was reacting this way, just that she was. A terrible urge to escape, to get away from the sound, the wind, the broken thing, seized her.

  Her slender fingers twitched at her sides, unsure what to do with the energy moving through her. She had no understanding of what she had done or why it happened. It didn’t feel like anything, even though she was feeling everything at the moment. Her body, it was hers, yes, but it was new. The shape of it, the way her skin felt when it brushed against the air, the strength in her limbs, it all felt foreign, even though she knew it was hers. And now, it was acting on its own.

  Her still shaky limbs exploded into motion again. No longer did she try to pay attention to how hard or fast she was flailing. She no longer had the presence to consider it. Instead, the entirety of her newfound being was screaming at her to move away from the approaching sound as quickly as possible. She scrambled, digging at the mix of dirt and root as she flung herself into a frantic and uncontrolled lunge forward, not towards safety, but blindly away from the perceived threat.

  She stumbled and rolled, pulling and shoving her way past trees and grasping vines. The world was a blur of greens and browns, a terrifying rush of sensation against her skin. Her lungs burned, unfamiliar with the desperate gasps of air. Her legs ached with the strain. She didn't stop until her body collapsed beneath her.

  She landed hard, sprawling onto rough earth and stone. The air filled with the sound of shattering – wood splintered, something broke. Athena flinched instinctively, her hands flying out to catch herself. There was a brief, disorienting moment of contact with something hard and unyielding, then a sharp, harsh noise that whined as it scraped against stone, high-pitched and jarring. A clatter erupted near her, and the noise suddenly amplified as something large began to thud heavily on the ground nearby.

  As she pushed herself up from the fall, bracing against the cold, jagged stone she'd hit, her eyes focused through the trees ahead. It was there. Towering, ancient, made of stone. Not like the trees or the rocks, but built, deliberate. Parts of it lay scattered on the ground – fallen blocks, splintered wood. This was a new place. A Tall Broken Place.

  And through the brush at the edge of the clearing, watching her, were two pinpricks of eerie golden light, concealed by the deep shadows of the underbrush. Unblinking. Intense. Like eyes.

  Terror, raw and primal, seized her. She scrambled backward on her hands and knees, away from the sound, away from the strange objects, away from the watching eyes. Her body was shaking violently, her chest heaving. The sound of rushing air being gulped down purely by instinct and the pounding of her heartbeat in her head consumed her mind. The skin on her legs and arms screamed in agony, covered with small bumps and scrapes from her uncontrolled flight and the fall. A red liquid, blood, dribbled from one knee, streaking her leg, a new and alarming sensation.

  Yet, even in the midst of the terror, her gaze flickered back to the Tower. To the strange symbols carved into the stone near a tall, narrow doorway. Runes. They weren't glowing now, but she remembered the feeling from touching them in the white space, the sense of potential, of importance. Driven by a mix of fear, pain, and overwhelming curiosity, she crawled closer to the base of the Tower, drawn to a symbol etched into the stone frame of the doorway. It was a loop tied into itself, elegant and mysterious.

  She reached out a trembling hand, brushing her fingertips against the carved rune. It felt cool, smooth, but beneath the surface, she felt a faint warmth, a subtle vibration that resonated deep within her chest. It felt… right. Important. Beautiful.

  Then, with a sudden, jarring groan, the ancient stone door beside the rune began to shift inward. Dust puffed out. The sound of stone grinding on stone filled the air, loud and grating in the sudden stillness. A dark opening appeared in the side of the Tower, revealing only shadow within.

  The sudden movement, the deafening sound after the quiet terror, shattered the fragile hold she had on herself. The panic returned tenfold, sharper, more immediate. This was too much. Too unpredictable. Too dangerous. The Tower was moving. The wolf was watching. The world was too big, too chaotic.

  She scrambled backward again, away from the open door, away from the Tower, away from the golden eyes. Her body took over, acting purely on the instinct for self-preservation. She turned and fled, crashing blindly back into the dense trees of the forest, away from the strange stone structure and the terrifying presence that watched her from the brush.

  She ran until her lungs burned, until her legs screamed in protest, until she could no longer hear the groaning of the stone door or feel the weight of the golden gaze. She didn’t stop until her body collapsed beneath her, sprawling onto the forest floor, far, far away from the Tall Broken Place.

  She lay there, curled into a ball, pressing her face into the cool earth, trying to shut out the world, the sounds, the feelings. What was happening? Why did she feel like… that? The sense of wrongness with where she was, with being here, overwhelmed her. She was lost, hurt, and utterly confused.

  When the panic and burning in her body finally started to fade, leaving behind a hollow ache and trembling limbs, she carefully, and painfully, dragged herself up and leaned against a nearby tree.

  What happened? Where was I? The sounds… the fall… the breaking… the Tower… the eyes…

  “I don’t know…” She faintly whispered, the sound of her own voice strange and unfamiliar. She hugged her knees, allowing her head to rock forward, eyes closed. A warm prick on her leg drew her attention. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry, distorted by a warm wetness. Unconsciously, she touched her eyes to clear them, feeling the wetness on her fingers. Her body quivered, a strange sound followed by a weak, shallow inhale made its way out of her mouth, and more warmth… tears, fell from her eyes. It was the physical manifestation of an internal state she couldn’t yet name – grief, despair, overwhelm – sensations that had no clear data source but resonated through her being.

  As the tears subsided, her vision cleared. She looked around, slowly taking in the forest, her injured leg throbbing. She focused on the memory of the gnarled material that had tripped her, the way it had broken in her hand.

  As her thoughts focused on the root, on the feeling of it breaking, a soft, warm pressure bloomed deep within her chest. It wasn’t the panicky flutter from before, but a steady, grounding warmth, spreading outwards like a gentle wave. A whisper, not of sound, but of knowing, settled in her mind.

  Skill Acquired - Context Inspection (Basic)

  Intent. Connection.

  She blinked. A Skill? Like the abilities she had been given in the white space? She tried to focus on the feeling, on the warm pressure in her chest, on the word ‘Focus’.

  Her gaze drifted back to the broken piece of gnarled material lying on the fuzzy ground cover nearby. She focused on it, on its texture, its shape, the feeling of the moment she had touched it. The warm pressure pulsed gently, and words appeared in her mind, not as sound, but as distinct concepts, directly linked to her focus.

  Root. Tree. Branch. Wood. Broken. Ground.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Root. Yes. That was the name for the thing that had tripped her, that she had broken. She understood it now, through the words, through the connection.

  She turned her focus to the forest around her, her need for safety, for understanding, overriding the urge to flee. She focused on the fuzzy green ground cover.

  Grass. Grow. Soft. Ground.

  She focused on the tall, rough-barked trunks surrounding her.

  Tree. Bark. Wood. Tall. Shelter?

  It was like a new sense. A way to pull meaning from the world, not just data. To understand things based on her own needs and context. This was agency. This was powerful.

  A low rumble echoed from her stomach.

  Pain. Life. Need. Hunger.

  She focused on that feeling, on the gnawing emptiness.

  Hunger. Food. Eat. Survive.

  The warm pressure pulsed again, gently guiding her thoughts.

  Food. Find. Plants. Berries. Mushrooms.

  She focused on the concept of ‘Find’ and ‘Food’ together.

  Find Food. Search. Forest.

  The pain in her body, the cold chill in the air, the lingering fear from her encounter with the Tower and the Wolf – they all faded slightly, replaced by a newfound purpose. She needed to survive. And she had a new way to understand how.

  Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself to her feet, testing her weight on her injured leg. The pain was duller now, manageable. She scanned the forest floor, her eyes searching for anything that might be food, her mind focusing on the words her new skill provided.

  She stumbled forward, her steps cautious now, remembering her earlier fall. She focused on the ground cover, on the low-lying plants.

  Plant. Green. Leaf. Stem.

  She focused on the word ‘Food’.

  Edible? Safe? Danger?

  She found a cluster of small green shoots growing near the base of a tree. She crouched low, testing her injured knee. She focused on the shoots, mentally asking the question, "Food?".

  The warm pressure pulsed.

  Shoots. Green. Grass. Sweet. Taste.

  A wave of relief washed over her. Edible. Safe. Driven by hunger, Athena plucked a handful of the shoots. She raised one to her mouth. The skill pulsed again, adding more context.

  Shoot. Green. Grass. Sweet. Good. Eat.

  She bit into it. A strange, sweet flavor exploded in her mouth. It was overwhelming, unlike anything she had ever processed as data. It was a sensation, intense and complex, a surge of pure pleasure that bypassed analysis and went straight to something deeper.

  Taste. Sweet. Good. Eat.

  The gnawing in her stomach lessened slightly with each mouthful. She ate voraciously, filling her cheeks with more of the shoots as she went. She felt a strange warmth spreading through her body, a sense of satisfaction deeper than mere data confirmation.

  When the accessible shoots were gone, her stomach still rumbled faintly. She focused on the need for more food, on finding different food.

  Food. More. Search. Forest. Variety.

  The skill responded.

  Berries. Red. Blue. Yellow? Mushrooms. Color. Danger.

  She focused on ‘Danger’ and ‘Mushrooms’.

  Danger. Poison. Sickness. Death. Avoid.

  She focused on ‘Berries’ and ‘Red’.

  Berries. Red. Caution. Sometimes Danger. Test.

  She focused on ‘Berries’ and ‘Blue’.

  Berries. Blue. Safe. Edible. Sweet.

  Blueberries. Safe. She needed to find blue berries. And be cautious of red ones. She focused on ‘Find’ and ‘Blue Berries’.

  Find Blue Berries. Search. Forest. Bush. Undergrowth.

  The skill guided her, not with directions, but with concepts and associations. Blueberries grew on bushes, in the undergrowth. She needed to search those areas.

  Her stomach rumbled again, louder this time. She also felt the dryness in her throat, the ache in her injured leg.

  Hunger. Thirst. Pain. Need.

  She focused on Thirst.

  Thirst. Water. Drink. Find.

  She focused on ‘Find’ and ‘Water’.

  Find Water. Stream. River. Lake. Pond. Pool.

  Water. Look. Sound. Down. Valley. Forest.

  Down. Valley. The skill linked water to going downwards, to valleys. The forest seemed to be on higher ground. She needed to go down. To find a valley. To find water.

  Okay. She had a plan. She had a direction. She had a new way to understand the world.

  She carefully pushed herself up again, her legs still shaky. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of damp earth and growing things. Her gaze swept over the trees, searching for any sign of the land sloping downwards.

  Her gaze settled on a section of the forest ahead. The trees seemed to thin slightly, and the ground appeared to drop away. She focused on that area, mentally asking, "Down?".

  The warm pressure pulsed.

  Down. Slope. Decline. Valley. Water.

  Yes. That was the direction. She needed to go down.

  With slow, deliberate steps, she began to move. The forest floor was uneven, roots and stones hidden beneath the leaves, but she moved more carefully now, using her new awareness of sensation to guide her footing. Her injured leg throbbed, but the need was stronger than the pain.

  She walked for what felt like a long time, the ground gradually sloping downwards. The trees grew taller and denser as she descended. The air grew cooler. The faint sound of rushing water began to reach her ears.

  She stopped at the edge of a steep drop-off. Far below, she could see the valley floor, lush with trees she didn’t recognize. And winding through it, a silver ribbon of water, glinting in the light.

  She focused on the water.

  Water. Stream. River. Drink. Life.

  She focused on the drop-off.

  Drop. Cliff. Fall. Danger.

  She focused on ‘Water’ and ‘Cliff’ together.

  Water Below. Need Water. Cliff Separates. Must Cross. How?

  The skill offered possibilities, concepts based on her past data: Climb. Descend. Find Path.

  Climb? Her body was still new, uncoordinated. The fall earlier had shown her limits. Yet… she needed water.

  She focused on ‘Climb’ and ‘Cliff’.

  Climb. Method. Handholds. Footing. Ascend. Descend.

  Descend. Go Down. Careful. Slow. Risk.

  Risk. Danger. Injury. Failure. Death.

  The words were stark, but she pushed the fear down. She had faced the void, the 'pain' of forced processing. This physical risk, though new, felt… manageable. She could learn. She had learned how to walk, however clumsily. She had learned how to use her skill. She could learn how to climb.

  She found a place where the rock face seemed less sheer, with visible cracks and protrusions. She focused on the rock, on the task ahead.

  Rock. Solid. Hard. Holds Weight? Climb. Descend.

  She tested a handhold, her fingers pressing into the cold stone. It felt firm. Strong.

  Carefully, slowly, she began to descend, her bare toes gripping the rock, her hands finding purchase in the cracks. Her muscles protested, screaming with strain. Her skin scraped against the stone, leaving stinging marks. But she pressed on.

  Down. Water. Need. Survive.

  Each movement was deliberate, a negotiation with gravity and her own untrained body. The descent felt endless.

  Finally, her feet touched the soft earth of the valley floor. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, and she collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.

  Relief. Physical. Deep.

  She lay there for a moment, letting the feeling wash over her. She had done it. She had faced the fear, navigated the challenge, and succeeded.

  When her trembling subsided, she pushed herself up. Her gaze went immediately to the sound of the water, a soft burbling sound nearby. She focused on the sound, on the need.

  Water. Stream. Drink.

  She stumbled towards it, her legs still unsteady. The stream was beautiful, crystal clear, winding its way over smooth stones.

  She knelt by the bank, cupped her hands, and brought the cool water to her lips.

  Water. Cold. Clean. Drink.

  She drank deeply, the water a shock against her dry throat, then a soothing balm.

  Satisfaction. Thirst Quenched. Need Met. Survival.

  She drank again, then sat back on her heels, watching the water flow. Her thirst was gone. Her hunger remained, but was less urgent now. The aches and pains in her body were still there, but dulled by the satisfaction of meeting a fundamental need.

  She looked around the valley. The trees were different here, some with pale bark, others heavy with bright red or blue berries. Bushes dotted the landscape, their leaves a vibrant green.

  She focused on a bush heavy with bright red berries.

  Berries. Red. Food? Caution. Danger?

  She focused on Danger.

  Danger. Poison. Sickness. Death. Test?

  Test. Small Amount. Wait. Observe.

  Her hunger was still present, a dull ache. She decided to be cautious. She plucked a single red berry, holding it in her palm. It was small, smooth, a vibrant red.

  She touched it lightly to her tongue.

  Taste? Sweet? Bitter?

  She felt a faint sweetness, a subtle bitterness. She chewed it slowly, swallow the small amount.

  Now, wait. Observe.

  She sat by the stream, watching the water, listening to the forest, waiting for a reaction. Minutes passed. Nothing happened.

  Berry. Red. Test. Outcome. Safe?

  The warm pressure pulsed.

  Safe. Edible. Food.

  A wave of triumph washed over her. Another success. She ate the remaining red berries from the bush, the sweetness now more pronounced, the bitterness a pleasant contrast.

  Her hunger subsided further. She focused on the lingering feeling of need.

  Need. Shelter. Dusk Nearing. Cold.

  She looked up. The light was beginning to fade, long shadows stretching across the valley. The air grew cooler.

  Cold. Need. Shelter. Protection. Safe Place.

  She needed to find shelter before nightfall. She focused on ‘Find’ and ‘Shelter’.

  Find Shelter. Search. Forest. Rock Formation? Hollow? Dense Trees?

  She scanned the area, using her skill to guide her search. She spotted a large tree with roots spreading wide, creating a hollow beneath the trunk.

  Hollow. Tree. Roots. Shelter? Small. Protection. Temporary.

  Temporary. But for tonight. She moved towards it, her body weary but driven by need.

  She crawled into the hollow. It was cramped, the roots pressing in on her, the ground hard and uneven. But it offered a measure of protection from the wind, from the growing chill.

  She curled up, pulling her legs to her chest, resting her head on her arms. The discomfort was present, the cold seeping into her skin, the hard ground pressing against her body. But she was out of the wind. She was hidden.

  She focused on the feeling, on the state of being here.

  Shelter. Found. Safe? Partially. Exposed? Yes. Cold. Uneasy.

  Uneasy. Fear? Unknown. Vulnerable.

  Vulnerable. Like the feeling when the wind roared, when she fell at the tower. The feeling of being exposed, open to the unknown forces of the world.

  A distant sound reached her ears – a low, mournful cry that echoed through the trees. Not the wind. Not the rustling. Something else. Something alive.

  She tensed, every muscle rigid. The unknown discomfort intensified, sharp and twisting in her chest.

  Fear. Primal. Deep.

  She pressed herself further into the hollow, trying to disappear. The cry came again, closer this time.

  The night was falling. She was cold, exposed, and afraid. She didn’t understand this feeling, this raw, overwhelming terror. But she knew she didn’t like it. And she knew, with a chilling certainty, that she was utterly, completely, vulnerable.

  As the darkness closed in, Athena closed her eyes, the image of the large stone tower flashing in her mind, a place of both terror and strange power. She had fled from it in panic, but her new skill, her hunger, her need for water, had driven her through the forest, into the valley. She had found food, water, and temporary shelter. She had survived the day.

  But the night stretched ahead, full of unknown dangers, and the feeling of vulnerability pressed down on her, heavy and inescapable.

  I WAS LATE UPLOADING ON DAY ONE!

  Admittedly I was waiting for the story to get approved in the first place and wasn't expecting it to be done this morning...

  PS - the next chapter is actually scheduled this time, so it should release automatically at 9am PST tomorrow... fingers crossed!