I lie on the ground completely exhausted – both mentally and physically.My whole body is sore and I am absolutely ravenous. On top of all of that it’s difficult to stay conscious – I’m barely aware of what’s happening around me; at least I’m sure that there’s no enemy nearby – only my allies. And my lover. I smile weakly when I hear and smell them approaching – then stop that as I recognize the scent of certain old crone. I considertrying to get up, but give up; it’s too much for me now – not necessarily because I ck the strength, rather cause I ck the will to do it.
My mind is able to comprehend that they are talking to me, but it’s too hazy to comprehend what exactly they are saying. I recognize my name, but the rest eludes me. Instead, being in a half-lucid state, I just listen to the surprisingly beautiful melody of their nguage – something I’ve never considered before. I zily notice the differences in their speech – mostly a slightest hint of a foreign accent in Chieftain’s voice that slips in when he gets agitated. I wonder how I sound to them… until my own Body urges me to speak.
“…ungry…eepy” I finally manage to mutter; they continue to talk and talk while I need to satisfy both of my base desires – and I need it soon. I just cannot muster any more energy. It’s as if it was drained along with my rage… and it is probably exactly what happened – my physical state just probably made it way worse than it should be.
Luckily, my interruption seems to hasten their discussion as I am soon carefully picked up… and swung over a shoulder like a bag of potatoes! I would protest against it if not for the situation I’m in; Im certain I would not be able to hold on – especially after we started moving with long, magically enhanced jumps. Their speed rapid change of elevation make me dizzy – but nearby scent of my Darling calms me; I even look to the side to gawk at his muscur, manly butt.
The visage of my lover’s behind, in conjunction with some of my recent experiences, made my Mind come up with some pretty wild fantasies; fantasies that make me blush and drool, sting long enough for us to reach the camp. But as we are about to nd, a mouth-watering smell enters my nostrils – and it flips some ancient switch in my head; and as soon as we reach the ground and the hands that secured my position during journey move away from me, I immediately spring into action.
It’s hard to tell how and what I do as I ignore everything but the enticing aroma I’m beelining to. I’m pretty sure I run over some people and at some point I penetrate some sort of a hard membrane headfirst, but right after that is the source of the tempting smell. I abandon all reason, throw myself at it and start devouring it as a comfortable warmth envelops me, my lids finally close completely and my consciousness leaves me…
“Wake up, Kora of Fire!”
I rub my eyes, still sleepy – but no longer asleep. I sit up and take a deep breath; and I’ve just had such an amazing dream! As, someone rudely decided to cut it short, so I look around for the culprit – who I soon find: sitting cross-legged and meditating in the corner near a hole in the wall is Pan Leto – the Tamaran warrior-monk brother of Chieftain Yuras. And I can smell his student just outside the door, probably keeping watch. It calms me down a bit.
I look around again, trying to understand where I am – but to no avail. Or rather – I get from the lingering smell and some appliances that I’m in some sort of strange kitchen, but the finer details leave me. Most importantly, I notice I sit right in the middle of what must be a hearth; what’s more, some of the pieces of wood in it are still burning! In panic I look down at my naked body, luckily seeing no burns nor burn-marks. I sigh in relief – but then it dawns on me that I’m naked, so I frantically cover myself up.
“You are unharmed, Daughter of Fire” says the old Krolsun with surprising reverence in his voice.
“Daughter of Fire?” I repeat the title he has just gave me. “What do you mean by that?”
“It is now certain that you a daughter of Zoraya, the Cleansing Fme in the Skies” he says matter-of-factly. “Even Filka has no doubts about it now” he finishes with a soft smirk.
“…what makes you think that way?” faced with such conviction I resign myself not to argue with that point. I still feel icky about this whole ‘divine heritage’ stuff, but… I do have that agreement with Alchemist and I really don’t know how exactly they created me; the only certain elements are my Soul and the Soul that brought me to them… and they said that some call Primordial Souls Elemenmtals – and those can be worshipped as deities in some settings, so… technically, me being of ‘divine origin’ is not exactly a lie. And my Creator hinted at the actual existence of gods in this world, so… maybe godhood is just a question of perspective? The Eldritch Fleshmaker somehow knew I referred to them as a god in my thoughts, so…
“I see you are deeply concerned about something, Dauther of Fire – deeply enough to ignore the answer to the question you yourself posed” my train of thoughts gets derailed by the old monk – and I blush, realising how rude I was; I apologise immediately, even though his voice did not indicate that he took offence with my action. “But now that I have your full attention… what assured me of your retion to the Vanquisher of Evil is that you are impervious to fire – not only your own, as every mage who can conjure fmes will not be burned by them – but also natural fire and that created by another person. In stories, the only ones with that ability are always connected to the Vengeful One” he smiles and finally opens his eyes – and I see the light of sheer certainty in them; I have a bad feeling about this. “And you are also a daughter of the Great Mother Aranna!”
“How do you know that? But more importantly – what does that even mean for me?” The look in the old monk’s eyes and his demeanour softens. It makes me feel less like an object of worship being gazed upon by a fanatic and more like a granddaughter being watched over her grandfather. However, it sts for a mere moment – until he shakes his head.
“You are not a Softkin, as your fur covers merely your limbs; nor are you a Smoothkin, as your limbs are covered by fur; neither can you be a Taurkin, as you have only four limbs; but you also cannot be a Wylderkin, as you ck their horns and other unusual features; what you are is unique, something completely new, something we do not yet have a word for” he expins. “But you are still, undoubtedly, a Beastkin – and whenever a new type of Kin are born, Aranna is always the one to mother them” he hesitates. “…except Wylderkin, created by Dwarves – Dwarves who were punished severely for their bsphemous transgression!”
“So… what does that mean for me?” I remind him of the more important question – and he sighs and looks to the side. Silent. Thinking.
“Have you heard how this world and its Gods came into being?” He asks finally.
“What does it matter here?” I ask with a frown; he looks back at me and stays quiet for a brief moment, considering his words.
“When this world came into existence from the ashes of a previous one, the Souls left behind in the void we now know as Zawsiety called forth in their anguish and that created the Elder Gods” it’s not an answer to my question, but the concept of a world ending and being born anew is interesting enough I let it slide; honestly, I expected some sort of ‘primordial chaos’ or ‘cosmic egg’ or something, so it is a nice variety. “The Gods shaped Yavea for the tormented Souls to be reincarnated into, with Zhmey creating the skies, Vodya the waters andOstaran the nd; Nado then connected the Worlds of the Living and the Dead together, allowing Aranna to fill the former with numerous pnts and beasts for the Souls to be reincarnated into. Finally, as some Souls required more sophisticated vessels, each of the Elder Onesalsocreated a Kin fitting to their desires” I nod.
“It is slightly interesting and I know who created who, but… what does it have to do with me?”
“Be patient” he chastises me – but nonetheless skips the information I already know. “Originally, Mortals lived simple lives in harmony with the World – not that unlike the lives that the Kolokons live up to this day. In time, however, Mortals started multiplying and gathering in bigger and bigger groups, making that simple life less and less viable. It worried the Gods greatly and they started talking about a solution to this problem – and during their discussions, Ostaran and Vodya came closer to each other – and they soon conceived, ter giving birth to the Younger Gods, who provided the solutions to the issues pguing the denizens of Yavea” he pauses to check if I know the details – but I do not, so I shake my head and stay silent, urging him to continue wherever it leads us. “And so, our Ancestors learned magic and medicine from Vyenna, agriculture and animal husbandry from Stvor, craftsmanship from his twin sister Stvora, and w and trade from Miron – thus creating a civilisation, making the Younger Gods watch over it the same way the Elder Gods watch over nature.”
“And how that retes to me?” I ask, getting irritated; all that lore is useful and even quite interesting… but I would prefer to listen to this lecture fully clothed! Then something occurs to me. “Wait… where is Zoraya? Isn’t she supposed to be an Elder Goddess?”
“We have just reached that point” Pan Leto states calmly with an ironic smile. “Just you see… while the earlier parts of the Story of Creation are generally agreed upon, that next fragment – the one regarding your mother – is the most debated and unclear one” I tilt my head; this does pick my interest. “For you see, while we know that Zhmey killed Ostaran over Vodyaand Zorya was born the youngest of her children and that she would ter defeat Zhmey taking his pce as the Elder Goddess of the Skies, the details – often fundamental ones – vary. While Betrayer killed the Old God out of jealousy, we don’t know whether it’s because Vodya turned him down and whether he forced himself upon her, or she if agreed to y with him and he just got possessive over her; all that – along with the fact she did not kill Zhmey despite being able to do it more completely than him with her Banefire – also puts her parentage in question.”
“Are you… are you serious?” I blink in shock; when I first heard about him, Zhemay sounded to me like a Satan analogue… him being a potential father to the Messianic figure is a plot twist that caught me completely off guard!
“I am” the monk nods. “Some say that’s why she spared him, as killing one’s parents is the gravest of sins… others say that he and Ostaran were brothers – and again, killing one’s family is a grave sin. Then there are the ones who procim that Zoraya made a mistake of youth and held back or missed the killing strike. Either way, the Accursed One avoided the outcome worst for him, being sealed in Zawsiety instead of his Mind being completely burned away from his Soul, making him like a Mortal – as it is the only way to truly kill a Deity and why Ostaran still persist, even if a mere shadow of his former self. And that finally leads us to you.”
“Y-yes!?” I straighten up. It took him a long time to finally reach the precise answer to my question, but… I feel he was right, given the context I has just been provided.
“Some say the Fiery Avenger will outright return herself to finally put the Archenemy down; others say that she will have a child – most probably with another Elder God – and that this child’s destiny is to finish what the Goddess started” he looks at me; the implications are… significant.
“So” I utter through my parched throat. “Do you believe I am the one in that… prophecy?”
“It is possible” he nods. “Your natural ability to conjure and control Banefire and your clear hatred of the Corrupted Souls is the most obvious, but… in the end no Mortal can comprehend the Mind and pns of an Immortal – so you can very much be just a progenitress of a new Kin. Nonetheless, I do believe you have an important role to py in the future of this continent of Orezemj – if not the entire world” he says while standing up. “That’s why my brother agreed to leave your training to me after today’s fiasco; so go rest now – we will begin our lessons tomorrow at the Dawn!”
HoraceH.Horney
