NOVEL NEXT Chapter 102. The Primal Hunter
Adom held up his hand in a closed fist—stop. Everyone froze instantly.
Ahead, through the twisted trees, something moved—a patrol of what looked like deer, except they walked on two legs and carried crude spears. Three of them, advancing slowly along an intersecting path.
No words needed to be exchanged. The group had been moving like this for nearly an hour now, communicating with hand signals and meaningful glances, following Adom's guidance as he listened to the whispers.
Adom pointed to Zara and then to a tree on their right with a low branch. She nodded once and melted into the shadows, appearing seconds later in position, crossbow already sighted.
He gestured to Thorgen and Artun next, indicating they should circle around to flank. They moved immediately, the dwarf surprisingly silent despite his stocky build, Artun nearly invisible as he slipped between shadows.
Bob and Adom remained where they were, with Zuni maintaining his perch on Adom's shoulder, tiny eyes alert for any movement from above.
The deer-things came closer, snorting occasionally, their too-human eyes scanning the forest. Adom waited until they were directly between their positions.
He raised one finger. Then two. Then three.
On the silent count, three things happened simultaneously:
Zara's crossbow twanged, the bolt taking the lead creature directly through its eye.
Thorgen and Artun burst from concealment, the dwarf's axe cleaving through the second creature's spine while Artun's daggers found the third's throat and heart in rapid succession.
None of the creatures had time to make a sound.
Bob moved forward, checking the bodies to ensure they were properly dead. The group converged, and Adom pointed in the direction the whispers were urging him.
They continued.
Adom was studying his new abilities as they moved. Where once he needed specific gestures and careful concentration to shape a complex spell, now a half-formed thought was enough. His intent translated into magic almost instantly, cutting the weaving time nearly in half.
It wasn't that the energy was doing anything on its own—it was that his connection to it was so much more direct.
His theory was beginning to crystallize: this wasn't just a merger of his mana and Fluid. It was an entirely new mana core.
Traditional mana cores were like organs—specialized structures that processed raw magical energy into usable mana. Every mage had one, located somewhere in their torso, usually near the heart or solar plexus.
What he was experiencing now had all the properties of a mana core, but instead of being localized, it permeated his entire body. It wasn't just processing the energy—it was integrated with his physical form in a way that shouldn't be possible.
The whispers guided him to raise his hand again—another patrol ahead. This time, six creatures that resembled wolves with too many legs and no faces, just smooth skin where features should be.
He pointed to himself. The others understood, stepping back to give him space.
Adom extended his hand, his intent instantly forming into a spell. Six thin tendrils of white energy shot through the underbrush faster than the eye could follow. Each tendril found its target, wrapping around a wolf-thing's neck before tightening.
Six simultaneous snaps echoed softly through the forest. The creatures dropped without a sound.
Zara raised an eyebrow at him as they moved past the bodies. Impressive, her expression said.
Adom shrugged slightly, but internally, he was astonished at how easy it had been.
He could probably go toe-to-toe with Gale at this point, a thought that was absolutely thrilling.
They encountered three more patrols over the next hour. A group of what appeared to be children until you noticed their backward-bending joints and too-wide mouths. A massive toad-like creature with human arms growing from its back. Two normal-looking humans whose shadows moved independently of their bodies.
Each time, the party worked with wordless efficiency. When Adom didn't handle the threats himself, the others stepped in with practiced skill. Thorgen's axe never missed. Zara's crossbow found eyes and throats with unerring accuracy. Artun moved like water, his daggers extensions of his will. Even Bob showed surprising competence, using what seemed to be some form of nature magic to entangle or confuse their enemies.
They were nearing the edge of the dense forest now, according to the whispers. Just ahead, the trees thinned, and light filtered through with increasing brightness.
Adom held up his hand one last time as they approached the treeline. Everyone tensed, expecting another patrol. Instead, he simply pointed forward and made a walking motion with his fingers. Clear.
They emerged from the forest into brilliant daylight. The sudden transition was almost painful after hours in the gloom.
Before them stretched a vast meadow, alive with tall grasses that swayed in a gentle breeze. Wildflowers in every imaginable color dotted the landscape, and the sky above was a perfect blue unmarred by clouds. In the distance, mountains rose, their peaks dusted with snow despite the apparent warmth of the day.
Zara took a deep breath. "It's beautiful."
"Aye," Thorgen agreed, squinting in the brightness. "A welcome change from that cursed forest."
Adom felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. The whispers were quieter here, less urgent. The white energy continued to flow through him, radiating outward in a soft glow that seemed less pronounced in the daylight.
"Don't let your guard down," Bob said, eyes scanning the meadow. "This is still her territory."
"But it's so... alive," Artun said, gesturing at the wildflowers and butterflies. "Nothing like the forest."
"That's how it works," Bob replied grimly. "The forest is only one part of her domain. This..." he swept his hand across the meadow view, "this is where she catches new subjects."
Adom studied the seemingly idyllic landscape with newfound wariness. The whispers confirmed Bob's assessment—there was danger here, just better concealed.
"I say," Zuni piped up from his shoulder, "shall we proceed with the same caution as before, then?"
Adom nodded. "Same formation, same signals. We cross quickly."
They stepped into the tall grass, leaving the shadows of the forest behind. The sun was warm on their faces, but none of them relaxed.
"Stay together," Bob said, eyes constantly scanning the horizon. "This isn't the time to wander off. The meadow might look safe, but the witch's most dangerous creations often have the fairest appearances. Keep at least three arm's lengths between each of you—close enough to help, far enough apart that you're not all caught by the same trap. And whatever you do, don't—"
"ACHOO!"
Artun's sneeze shattered the tension, explosive and completely unexpected. Everyone jumped, Zara's hand flying to her crossbow.
Thorgen immediately drew himself up, his expression suddenly solemn. "By the beard of Drain the Full of Life, may Mehl strengthen yer lungs and fortify yer spirit. May the rock beneath us steady yer breath and the mountain's heart beat strong within yer chest. May no foul—"
"He just sneezed," Adom interrupted, staring at the dwarf. "He just sneezed."
Thorgen looked at him, affronted. "Yes, and this is what we say after someone sneezes."
"This is a lot of wor—"
"AAACHOO!" Artun sneezed again, louder this time, doubling over with the force of it.
Thorgen didn't miss a beat. "By the beard of Drain the Full of Life, may Mehl strengthen yer lungs and fortify yer spirit. May the rock beneath us steady yer breath and the mountain's heart beat strong within yer chest. May no foul miasma cloud yer senses and no weakness find purchase in yer sinews."
Artun wiped his nose on his sleeve. "You say that after every sneeze?"
"Every sneeze," Thorgen confirmed, with a nod. "It's dwarven culture. We don't often fall ill, ya see. Our bodies are carved from sturdier stuff than ye surface-dwellers. So when a dwarf sneezes, it's considered significant. A warning, perhaps, or an omen."
The dwarf looked at them curiously. "What do ye surface folk say when someone sneezes? Surely ye have some ritual?"
"Bless you," Adom said with a shrug.
"Just 'bless you'?" Thorgen looked genuinely offended. "That's it? No invocation of ancestors? No plea to the forge-fires?"
"Sometimes 'gesundheit'," Zara offered.
"What in the blazes does that mean?"
"Good health, I think. It's from some old language."
Thorgen shook his head in disbelief. "Two words. Someone's body violently expels air, possibly indicating disease or worse, and ye respond with two measly words."
Zuni peered down from Adom's shoulder. "How fascinating. Is there a specific theological underpinning to—"
"Can we save the cultural exchange for when we're not standing in hostile territory?" Bob cut in.
Adom was fighting to keep a straight face as a butterfly drifted past them, its wings catching the sunlight.
"You know," Artun said, rubbing his nose, "I don't normally sneeze much either, unless I'm around certain types of pollen. Redleaf flowers especially make me—"
"ACHOO!"
"By the beard of—"
"Stop," Bob hissed. "You better not, dwarf."
Thorgen scoffed as the butterfly landed lightly on his forearm. The dwarf barely glanced at it, continuing the conversation with Artun.
"Aye, some folk are sensitive that way. My cousin Bormin can't go near mushroomcaps without his skin becoming red."
"Could be that," Artun said, gesturing at the butterfly while wiping his nose. "Might be transporting pollen that I'm allergic to—"
The dwarf looked down at it with grudging appreciation.
"Oooh. Pretty enough," he admitted. "Though I prefer creatures with more substance to 'em."
Adom was studying the butterfly more carefully now. Something about its wings... the patterns... they weren't runes at all, but—
His breath caught.
They were teeth. Hundreds of microscopic teeth arranged in a pattern that only appeared decorative from a distance.
"Thorgen, DON'T—"
Too late.
The butterfly's wings suddenly flattened against the dwarf's arm. The tiny teeth bit down simultaneously, piercing the skin.
Time seemed to slow.
Adom watched in horror as a dark discoloration spread from the point of contact. Not blood—something worse. The skin around the butterfly blackened instantly, veins turning purple then black as the corruption raced up Thorgen's arm.
No one else had even processed what was happening yet. Zara's mouth was opening to ask a question. Bob was half-turned, sensing Adom's alarm. Artun was mid-sneeze.
But Thorgen knew.
Without hesitation, without even a grunt of warning, the dwarf drew his axe with his free hand. In one fluid motion—terrifying in its precision—he brought the blade down on his own arm just below the elbow.
The axe severed flesh and bone.
Blood sprayed across the golden grass. The corrupted forearm, butterfly still attached, dropped to the ground. The infection had reached just inches from the point of amputation.
Thorgen staggered but didn't fall. His face went white, but he didn't scream. He simply stared at the stump of his arm as if surprised to find it missing.
"That," he said with unnerving calm, "was unpleasant."
Then his knees buckled.
Zara moved first, catching him before he hit the ground. Adom was already weaving a fire spell, the white energy flowing from his hands to the wound, cauterizing blood vessels and numbing pain receptors.
"What the fuck?" Artun breathed, staring at the severed arm on the ground. The corruption continued to spread through the detached limb, the flesh turning black and then crumbling into dust. The butterfly remained, feeding.
"Like I was saying," Bob said grimly, drawing a dagger and impaling the butterfly through its center, "the witch's most dangerous creations often have the fairest appearances."
The butterfly made no sound as it died, but its wings fluttered once more, releasing a small puff of glittering dust that Bob was careful to avoid.
"Is he...?" Zuni asked, his tiny voice trembling slightly.
"He'll live," Adom said, maintaining the spell. "He reacted fast enough."
"Dwarven reflexes," Thorgen muttered through gritted teeth. "And experience."
Blood continued to pump from the cauterized stump in thick, rhythmic spurts, soaking the golden grass beneath them. Apparently, dwarven blood had a much more pronounced metallic scent. It rapidly filled the air, sharp and unmistakable.
Artun's head snapped up. "Guys?"
"Not now," Zara said, tearing a strip from her tunic to fashion a makeshift tourniquet.
"No, seriously. Look."
They followed his gaze. Three more butterflies had appeared, drifting toward them on the gentle breeze. Then five more behind those. Then a dozen.
"Oh shit," Bob whispered.
The butterflies moved with unnatural synchronization, their wings covered in microscopic teeth.
"They smell the blood," Bob said, backing up. "We need to move. Now."
Adom looked at Thorgen, who was barely conscious. "He can't walk."
"Then we carry him," Zara said, already sliding her arms under the dwarf's shoulders.
Artun moved to help, grabbing Thorgen's legs. Together they lifted him, but the motion sent a fresh gout of blood spraying from the wound.
More butterflies appeared at the edges of the meadow, dozens now, then hundreds, rising from the flowers like a colorful mist.
"Go!" Bob shouted, no longer concerned about stealth. "Move!"
Adom raised his hand and a wall of flame manifested that swept through the air. The first wave of butterflies disintegrated instantly, their delicate wings crumbling to ash.
But for every one he burned, ten more appeared.
They ran, Zara and Artun carrying Thorgen between them, Bob leading the way, Adom bringing up the rear, periodically turning to incinerate the pursuing swarm.
"Which way?" Zara gasped, struggling under Thorgen's weight.
"There!" Bob pointed to a rocky outcropping about two hundred yards ahead. "We might find shelter!"
Adom unleashed another blast of [Fire]. The butterflies closest to them burst into flame, their tiny bodies making soft popping sounds as they burned. But the swarm was growing denser.
"They're herding us!" Bob shouted as they veered left to avoid a particularly dense cloud of the creatures.
"What?"
"It's a hunt! They're driving us somewhere!"
Adom glanced back. The swarm had indeed formed a pattern, creating a corridor that subtly guided their movements. To their left, the butterflies were packed so tightly they formed a shimmering wall. To their right, they maintained just enough distance to give the illusion of an escape route.
"Stop!" Adom called. "We're going the wrong way!"
"We can't stop!" Artun yelled back, his face slick with sweat as he struggled to keep Thorgen off the ground. Which was strange. Could he not use Fluid and properly carry the dwarf?
Unimportant for now. Adom made a decision.
He concentrated, drawing on his new powers. The white energy surged through him, stronger than before, responding to his urgency. Instead of a directed blast, he released it in a spherical wave that expanded outward in all directions.
The effect was immediate and devastating. Every butterfly within thirty feet was instantly incinerated, leaving a momentary clearing around them.
"This way!" Adom pointed directly through what had been the densest part of the swarm. "We cut through their trap!"
They changed direction, running straight toward the gap Adom had created.
The butterflies regrouped quickly, pouring in from all sides to close the gap. Adom released another wave, but weaker this time. It barely cleared a path.
"Almost there!" Bob called.
They could see the rocks clearly now—a jumble of boulders that might provide some protection. Just fifty yards to go.
Forty.
Thirty.
A butterfly slipped through Adom's defenses, landing on Artun's shoulder. He screamed, dropping Thorgen's legs to swat at it, but three more immediately took its place, attaching themselves to his neck and face.
The effect was instantaneous. Black veins spread across his skin like spilled ink. He fell to his knees, clawing at his throat as the corruption raced through him.
"Artun!" Zara screamed, but there was nothing they could do.
"Keep moving!" Bob grabbed Thorgen's legs, taking Artun's place. "We can't help him!"
Artun's body was already transforming, his skin turning black and crumbling away as the butterflies fed. His screams cut off abruptly as his vocal cords dissolved.
They ran harder, the rocks just yards away now.
"In there!" Bob pointed to a narrow crevice between two massive boulders. "Hurry!"
Zara went first, dragging Thorgen through the gap. Bob followed. Adom unleashed one final blast of energy, incinerating everything behind them, then squeezed through the opening.
The crevice widened into a small cave, barely large enough for all of them. Outside, they could hear the soft flutter of thousands of wings as butterflies surrounded their shelter, seeking a way in.
"Is everyone okay?" Adom gasped, trying to catch his breath.
"Define 'okay,'" Zara said bitterly, examining Thorgen's wound. The dwarf had lost consciousness, his breathing shallow but stable.
"We lost Artun," Bob said, his voice hollow. "And we're trapped."
"For now," Adom replied. "I can clear another path when we're ready to move."
"And lead us where?" Bob demanded. "We're completely turned around. Your glowing trick will just attract more of them."
Adom closed his eyes, focusing on the whispers. They were still there, but fainter now, harder to interpret.
Why now?
"I can still find the way," he said, opening his eyes. "But we need to rest first. Just a few minutes."
They sat in silence, listening to the butterflies outside. Occasionally one would find the entrance to their shelter, only to be quickly dispatched by Bob's dagger.
After what felt like an hour but might have been minutes, Adom stood. "I think I can get us out of here. The whispers say we need to head northwest."
"How do we do that without being swarmed again?" Zara asked.
Adom considered. "I can create a sustained shield this time. Something that moves with us. It won't last forever, but it should get us to the edge of their territory."
Bob nodded. "Worth a try. It's not like we have better options."
They prepared to move, Bob fashioning a crude stretcher for Thorgen from their cloaks and two straight branches he found in the cave. The dwarf stirred but didn't wake.
"Ready?" Adom asked, gathering the white energy around him.
Zara nodded, looking grim. "Let's go."
Adom focused his will, creating a dome around them. It shimmered like a soap bubble, translucent but solid.
"Stay close to me," he said. "The shield will only extend about five feet in any direction."
They emerged from the cave into chaos. The butterflies immediately swarmed the shield, thousands of tiny teeth trying to penetrate the barrier. From inside, it looked like a storm of colorful confetti battering against glass.
"This way," Adom said, starting northwest. The shield moved with him, forcing the others to stay close.
They made slow progress. Bob and Zara struggled with Thorgen's makeshift stretcher, and Adom had to moderate his pace to keep the shield encompassing them all. Outside their bubble, the meadow had transformed into a nightmare landscape. Every flower seemed to be releasing more butterflies, the air so thick with them that the sun was partially blocked.
"How much farther?" Zara asked, her voice strained.
"I'm not sure," Adom admitted. "The whispers just say to keep going this way."
They pushed forward, step by labored step.
After twenty minutes of walking, the shield began to flicker.
"We need to hurry," Adom said, his voice tight with effort. "I can't hold this much longer."
They increased their pace, practically jogging now despite Thorgen's weight. The butterflies seemed to sense the shield's weakening, their attacks growing more frenzied.
"There!" Bob suddenly called. "I see trees ahead!"
Sure enough, the edge of another forest loomed about a hundred yards away. The butterflies seemed less dense there, perhaps unable to survive in the shade.
"Almost there," Adom encouraged, though his vision was starting to blur from the sustained effort.
Fifty yards.
Thirty.
Ten.
They reached the first trees just as Adom's shield collapsed completely. The butterflies surged forward, but something strange happened. As they hit the shadow line beneath the forest canopy, they veered away, unwilling or unable to follow.
"They can't enter the forest," Bob said, amazed. "We made it."
They stumbled deeper into the woods, putting distance between themselves and the meadow until the sound of wings faded entirely. Finally, in a small clearing, they set Thorgen down and collapsed beside him.
"We need to check his wound," Zara said, already unwrapping the makeshift bandages.
The stump looked bad—angry red streaks extended up from the cauterized end, suggesting infection—but there was no sign of the black corruption from the butterfly's bite.
"I can help," Adom said, summoning his strength to weave a more thorough healing spell.
As he worked, he noticed the white energy had dimmed considerably. Using it for so long, especially for the shield, had drained him more than he'd realized.
Once Thorgen was stabilized, Adom stood. "We should keep moving. These woods seem safer than the meadow, but we're still in her territory."
He started forward, following the increasingly urgent whispers.
Together they lifted the dwarf and continued through the forest. The trees here were different from the twisted monstrosities they'd encountered earlier—straighter, healthier, with normal-looking leaves. It was almost peaceful.
Too peaceful, Adom realized suddenly. Where were the sounds of birds or insects? Why wasn't Zara saying anything? And wasn't Bob just behind them?
He turned to check on the others and froze.
No one was there.
"Zara?" he called. "Bob?"
No answer.
"I was just speaking to them," he muttered. "They were right here."
Fear crept up his spine. Had something taken them silently? Had he somehow gotten separated in the woods?
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"Law," Zuni's voice came from his shoulder, breaking through his confusion. "Law, stop."
Adom halted, suddenly uncertain. "Z-" he corrected himself. "Librarian? Where are the others?"
"I say, Law, you're not quite in a normal state at present," Zuni said. "I believe you've fallen victim to some manner of illusion."
"Illusion?" Adom looked around at the forest, then back at his companion. "What do you mean?"
"Chirp—pardon me," Zuni composed himself. "I believe it began shortly after our encounter with that first butterfly. Whatever made Artun sneeze—likely some form of spore or pollen—has affected your perception."
"But the others..." Adom gestured to where he could clearly see Zara helping Thorgen, Artun clutching his blackened arm, Bob scanning the trees.
Wait... that wasn't right...
"That's just it," Zuni said. "They aren't actually there. We became separated during the commotion with the butterflies. Everyone scattered in different directions, and you ran straight ahead. I've been attempting to inform you of this fact for some time now."
"This is an illusion spell," Adom muttered. "A complex one."
"Quite so," Zuni agreed. "And what's more, we're not even in a forest. I've been trying to guide you out of whatever fantasy your mind has constructed, but you've been rather stubbornly committed to it."
"If we're not in a forest, where are we?"
"Somewhere significantly less pleasant, I'm afraid," Zuni said. "I can see the actual surroundings, and they're decidedly swamp-like in nature."
Adom felt sick. "So the whispers..."
"I suspect they've been manipulated as well."
Adom frowned, focusing his mind on the problem. "Illusion spells work best when the target is agitated or distracted. The more emotional the state, the stronger the hold."
"A sound assessment," Zuni nodded.
"I need to calm myself," Adom decided, closing his eyes. "Break the spell's grip on my perception."
He took a deep breath, then another.
"That's it," Zuni encouraged.
Adom continued his measured breathing, focusing inward.
As his mind cleared, his other senses began reporting discrepancies. The ground beneath his feet wasn't forest loam but something softer, wetter. The air wasn't fresh and cool but heavy, humid, carrying the smell of rot and stagnant water.
"I can feel water," he said, eyes still closed. "Around my ankles."
"Yes, precisely," Zuni confirmed. "Rather murky stuff."
Adom focused harder. Illusion spells were powerful but ultimately superficial—they could only overlay reality, not replace it entirely. With enough concentration, he could push through the deception.
[Indomitable Will]
The message flashed across his vision. The forest around him flickered, like reality itself was stuttering. For a moment, he saw both—the pleasant woodland and, beneath it, glimpses of a dismal swamp with twisted black trees rising from dark water.
"It's working," he said, opening his eyes. "I can see through it now."
The illusion was disintegrating in patches. Where once he saw Zara helping Thorgen, now there was only a gnarled stump rising from murky water. Artun's form melted away to reveal a cluster of sickly, phosphorescent fungi. Bob's vigilant figure became nothing more than a twisted tree with hanging moss.
The last vestiges of the false forest fell away completely.
Adom now stood ankle-deep in dark, viscous swamp water. All around them stretched a nightmarish landscape—blackened, twisted trees rising from the murk, their branches draped with pale, moving tendrils that might have been moss or something worse. The sky overhead wasn't blue but a sickly yellowish-green.
"The witch?" Adom said, turning slowly to take in their surroundings.
"Quite possible," Zuni agreed.
In the distance, something large moved beneath the water's surface, creating ripples that spread outward. Somewhere beyond that, a sound like a muffled scream echoed across the swamp.
"We need to find the others," Adom said, gathering his wits. "They could be trapped in similar illusions, or worse."
"A sound plan," Zuni said. "Though I suggest we find some drier ground first. This water makes me exceedingly nervous—chirp!"
The quillick's sudden alarm made Adom look down. Just beneath the surface, something pale and hand-like had brushed against his boot before darting away.
"Agreed," Adom said, spotting a raised area about fifty yards away. "That way. And Zuni... thank you for helping me see through the deception."
"Think nothing of it," the quillick replied. "Though I must say, you did most of the work yourself. I merely pointed out the rather obvious fact that you were talking to thin air."
Adom took a step toward the higher ground, his foot sinking deeper than expected into the murky swamp water. A chill ran up his leg as something slimy brushed against his ankle.
"Ugh," he muttered, pulling his foot free with a wet sucking sound.
Ripples moved through the water—subtle at first, then more pronounced. Not natural. Not wind. Something was moving toward them.
"Librarian," he whispered, "hold on."
Before the quillick could respond, Adom's body reacted to danger his conscious mind hadn't yet processed. He jumped sideways just as something massive erupted from the water where he'd been standing. The impact sent a geyser of foul-smelling muck twenty feet into the air.
"Goodness!" Zuni squeaked, clinging desperately to Adom's shoulder.
Adom's hands were already weaving a flight spell. He launched upward, putting distance between himself and whatever had just tried to crush him.
Mid-flight, he heard a voice—melodic yet wrong somehow, like a beautiful song played slightly out of tune.
"Visitor," it sang. "Pretty visitor with the white light."
Something hurtled toward him—a projectile of mud and bone. Adom's fingers twisted in a quick protective pattern, crafting a barrier spell. The projectile slammed into his shield with enough force to knock him back several feet.
"We appear to be under attack," Zuni observed unnecessarily, his tiny claws digging into Adom's collar.
Adom didn't waste breath responding. Instead, he adjusted his position, stabilizing his flight with a spell modification. He needed to see what he was dealing with.
From his new vantage point, he spotted his attacker below. Time to go on the offensive.
Adom wove a complex pattern with both hands, channeling mana through the precise gestures. With a downward thrust of his palms, he released a massive shockwave spell toward the swamp.
The impact was devastating. Water exploded outward from the point of contact, creating a perfect circular depression fifty feet across. Everything within that radius was blasted away from the center—trees splintered, mud sprayed in all directions, creatures that had been hiding beneath the surface were flung like ragdolls.
A notification appeared in his vision field:
[Your Mana Pool has reached 970]
And it showed.
The force of the spell pushed Adom even higher into the air. For a moment, he hung suspended, twenty feet above the swamp, with a perfect view of what had attacked him.
A humanoid figure stood in the now-exposed mud at the center of his spell's impact zone. Its skin was alabaster pale, almost translucent, revealing a network of dark veins beneath. It had no hair, and its torso was bare, its form slim and androgynous.
From this distance, Adom couldn't tell if it was male or female—or perhaps both, or neither. Despite the violent exchange, its face was unsettlingly... conventionally beautiful, with features so perfectly symmetrical they seemed artificial.
The creature was already recovering from the blast, pushing itself up from where it had been thrown. As it rose to its feet, it tilted its head back to look directly at Adom. Its eyes were solid black, no whites visible, and its mouth—too wide for its face—curved into a smile that revealed teeth like polished obsidian.
"Chirp—I'm not particularly fond of heights like this, Law!" Zuni complained, his tiny body trembling against Adom's neck.
"Just hang on," Adom replied, not taking his eyes off the creature below.
The thing's smile widened, literally stretching to the sides of its head. Then it bent its knees slightly, preparing to leap.
Adom had five seconds, maybe less, before it would reach him.
"Three..."
The thing pushed off, launching itself upward with incredible speed.
"Two..."
It stretched mid-leap, arms extending far beyond normal human proportions, fingers elongating into claws.
"One..."
Just before it reached him, Adom's fingers twisted in a pattern. "[Levitation]" he muttered, and the creature froze mid-air, suspended by his spell merely feet away from him.
"My word," Zuni gasped from his shoulder.
The thing thrashed against the invisible force holding it, its too-wide mouth opening in a silent scream.
Adom slammed his palm forward.
[Hammer]
A concussive force smashed into the suspended creature, sending shockwaves through its body. Any normal being would have been pulverized, but this thing merely rippled, absorbing the impact.
Adom didn't hesitate. His hands moved in rapid succession, weaving spell after spell.
[Fire Lance]
A concentrated beam of white-hot flame pierced straight through the creature's torso, leaving a smoking hole you could see through. The wound didn't bleed—instead, the edges bubbled and boiled.
[Ice Spike]
Jagged shards materialized and ripped through the thing's limbs, impaling them in multiple places.
[Lightning Cage]
Arcs of electricity encircled the creature, contracting and searing its pale flesh.
Any one of these spells would have been fatal to most enemies. This thing just hung there, damaged but intact, those black eyes still fixed on Adom.
"I say, Law, this isn't working quite as expected," Zuni observed nervously.
Adom frowned. "Let's try something else."
He twisted his hand sharply, conjuring [Flamebrand Sword] from his inventory. With a single slashing motion, he severed one of the creature's arms.
The appendage fell—but instead of dropping into the swamp below, it twisted mid-air, bubbling and reshaping. Within seconds, a second creature had formed, smaller but identical to the first, hovering where the arm had been.
"Oh dear," Zuni chirped. "That's rather problematic."
The second creature wasn't bound by Adom's levitation spell. It lunged at him immediately.
His right fist connected with the thing's face.
BAM!
The creature's head snapped back, its neck extending unnaturally, but it kept coming. Adom struck with his left.
WAM!
This time he put more force behind it. The creature flew backward but righted itself almost instantly.
Meanwhile, the original creature had broken free of the levitation spell and was also advancing.
"These types of creatures typically have a core or nucleus," Adom muttered, dodging a swipe from elongated claws. "The head or the heart..."
"Perhaps a practical experiment is in order?" Zuni suggested, holding tight as Adom barrel-rolled through the air to avoid both attackers.
"Good idea."
Adom thrust his palm toward the smaller creature, fingers spread wide.
[Compression]
The spell caught the thing in an invisible vise, squeezing it from all sides. Its body distorted, bulging in places, until finally its head burst with a wet pop.
Unlike before, the creature didn't regenerate. Instead, it dissolved into a grayish sludge that rained down into the swamp.
"The head it is," Adom confirmed, turning to face the original attacker.
But the situation had deteriorated. The splash of sludge hitting the water below seemed to attract more creatures. They rose from the swamp like nightmarish swimmers surfacing, identical to the first—pale, hairless, black-eyed, with those impossibly wide mouths.
"One, two, three..." Adom counted quickly. "Seven. No, twelve."
And they were all leaping toward him, stretching and distorting as they came.
Adom dropped a few feet to avoid the first wave, then shot upward as the second group passed beneath him. His hands never stopped moving, weaving spell after spell.
[Vortex]
A spinning column of air grabbed three of the creatures, smashing them against each other.
[Fire Net]
A web of flames ensnared two more, holding them long enough for Adom to follow up with a targeted compression spell to their heads.
"Chirp—behind you!" Zuni warned.
Adom spun just as a creature latched onto his back. He slammed his elbow backward.
WAM!
The gauntlet connected with the thing's face, stunning it. Adom followed with a [Pressure Spike] directly to its head, causing it to rupture.
Sludge splattered across his back, and Zuni made a disgusted sound. "Revolting!"
More creatures were rising from the swamp. What had been twelve was now approaching twenty.
"We're drawing a crowd," Adom observed, maintaining his altitude as he assessed the new threats. "Time to be more efficient."
He closed his eyes for half a second, concentrating.
Then, a realization.
I'm already double weaving with my spells while maintaining the [Flight] spell without any problem, could I...
When his eyes opened, he'd formulated a new approach.
[Multiple Target: Compression]
Five compression spells fired simultaneously, each seeking out a creature's head. Five pops followed, five bodies dissolved.
Yes!
The remaining creatures seemed to hesitate, as if suddenly aware they were dealing with something beyond their usual prey.
Adom didn't give them time to reconsider. He wove a complex pattern with both hands, combining multiple spell structures into a single devastating attack.
[Area Effect: Pressure Wave]
An invisible force radiated outward, catching eight more creatures in its grip. Instead of a general compression, this spell specifically targeted their heads, crushing them with precision. Eight more dissolved into sludge.
Three creatures remained, hovering just out of range. They seemed to be communicating somehow, coordinating.
"I believe they're adapting to your strategy," Zuni noted.
"Then we'll give them something new to adapt to."
Adom shot upward another fifty feet, then spread his arms wide.
[Gravity Well]
Below him, the air seemed to distort. The remaining creatures were suddenly yanked toward a central point, pulled by an irresistible force. As they collided, Adom closed his fist.
[Implosion]
The compressed mass of creatures collapsed inward, their heads crushing against each other. The spell released, and what remained was nothing but falling sludge.
Adom hovered, scanning the swamp below. A few ripples disturbed the surface, but nothing else emerged.
"Twenty-eight," he said, counting the puddles of dissolving goo. "I think that's all of them."
He floated higher, catching his breath. The barrage of spells had taken more out of him than he'd expected. His mana reserves were still substantial—far more than they'd been before his transformation—but not limitless.
"Are you all right?" he asked Zuni, glancing at his shoulder.
The quillick was flattened against his collar, amber eyes wide. "I believe I preferred the illusion forest," he said weakly.
Adom hovered above the swamp, scanning the murky expanse below. Grayish sludge still rained down, the remains of his attackers dissolving into the water.
"The others," he said suddenly. "They're still out there somewhere."
"If they escaped the butterflies," Zuni reminded him.
"I need to find them." Adom started to turn, mentally plotting search patterns. "We came here for the egg, but not at the cost of their lives."
They live, came a voice like wind through branches. Your companions survive. All of them.
Adom froze mid-air. "Finally, you're clear again."
The whispers returned, no longer muffled or distant, but clear as spoken words.
"Pardon?" Zuni asked, peering around nervously.
The dwarf fights on one arm, said a second voice, dry as autumn leaves. The ranger leads him through shadow paths. The rogue tracks your trail, though poorly. And the leprechaun is closest to you.
"So they're okay," Adom said with relief. "Where are they now?"
Zuni gave him a concerned look. "Are you conversing with the air?"
We see all paths in her domain, the whispers replied in unison. We will guide them to safety, as we guide you.
But you must not search by air, warned a brook-voice. Her eyes watch the skies. Her sentinels patrol the upper winds.
Northeast, urged a leaf-voice. You must hurry northeast.
"To the cave and the egg, I know," Adom said. "But my friends—"
The egg stirs, whispered the branch-voice. The witch has sensed it. She knows intruders have entered her territory.
"Why do you want me to have this egg?" Adom asked. "You've shown it to me in dreams for weeks, but never explained why."
When you reach the cave, you will understand, the whispers replied. But you must hurry. She must not claim it first.
A girl waits by still waters, the brook-voice added. She will help, if you reach her in time.
"A girl? What girl?"
The witch sends her agents to search the swamp, interrupted the leaf-voice. Her spies will find you if you remain exposed.
Adom looked down at Zuni. "The whispers say our friends are alive. They'll guide them to safety, but we need to go northeast now. To the cave with the egg."
"I see," Zuni said, clearly not seeing at all. "And these... whispers... are trustworthy, are they?"
"They've kept us alive so far." Adom glanced at the horizon. "The witch knows we're in her territory. She'll be sending search parties."
Descend, the whispers urged. Walk hidden paths. Follow our guidance.
Adom lowered himself toward a patch of relatively solid ground on the edge of the swamp. As his feet touched down, he felt a tremor run through the earth—something large moving beneath the surface, heading their way.
"No time to debate," he said, canceling his flight spell. "We go northeast. Fast."
He took off at a run, staying low, ducking under twisted branches and leaping over fetid pools. Behind them, something massive breached the swamp's surface where they had been hovering moments before—a writhing mass of tentacles and eyes.
"What precisely is the plan?" Zuni asked, clinging to Adom's collar as they fled. "Beyond 'northeast' and 'find a girl'?"
"Get to the cave, get the egg before the witch does," Adom replied, vaulting over a fallen tree. "That's what we came for."
Her sentinels will be watching the main paths, the whispers warned. You must take the hidden ways.
Adom pushed harder, weaving through the treacherous landscape as the whispers guided him.
Left here. Now right. Beneath the arch of bones. Through the mist, not around.
"She knows we're here," Adom muttered as he ducked under a low-hanging branch dripping with some foul-smelling substance. "The witch. She'll be organizing search parties by now."
"Marvelous," Zuni replied dryly. "Just what we needed to make this excursion more perilous."
They crested a small rise, and Adom paused briefly to get his bearings. In the distance, dark shapes moved across the sky—winged things with elongated bodies.
"Her sentinels," he whispered.
They seek movement, heat, magic, the branch-voice explained. Your white aura draws their attention like a beacon.
You must conceal it, the brook-voice urged. Hide the light within.
"How?" Adom asked. "I can't just turn it off."
Listen, the whispers commanded in unison. Repeat these words in your mind only.
The leaf-voice began to murmur words in a language Adom had never heard before—ancient-sounding syllables that seemed to resonate with something deep inside him.
"Me-lám-mu ma-da-ĝál..."
Adom mentally repeated the phrase, feeling a strange vibration in his chest. And, to his surprise, he understood it.
My power, obey me.
"Šà-mu-šè nu-nu..."
With each phrase, the white glow surrounding him dimmed slightly, drawing inward. Into my heart, withdraw.
"Bar-ta nu-è bar-ta nu-è..."
Outward do not escape, outward do not escape.
His aura contracted further, pulling beneath his skin.
"What is this?" he whispered.
Do not speak. Focus. Command your essence.
Adom closed his eyes briefly. This wasn't mere meditation—his mana was directly responding to the words, as if they held inherent power. Some form of magic he'd never encountered before.
Verbal.
"Níĝ-šu-mu-šè ĝál..."
Into my grasp, remain.
The final command clicked something into place. The white aura collapsed inward, disappearing beneath his skin. It didn't vanish—he could still feel it coursing through him—but it was contained now, hidden from outside observers.
"...How?," Adom murmured, examining his now normal-looking hands. "The words themselves have power. My mana responded directly to them."
"Did you say something?" Zuni asked, peering at him curiously.
Adom adjusted his pace, careful now about how much mana he expelled. Every spell would be like a signal flare to their pursuers.
"How much farther to this cave?" he asked.
Three leagues, if the path holds, replied the brook-voice. Less if you dare the shadow road.
"What's the shadow road?"
Dangerous, came the immediate reply. But faster. Her hunters rarely patrol it.
The girl knows the way through, added the leaf-voice. She waits where the water meets the stone.
Adom weighed his options. The longer they stayed in the open, the greater the chance of being spotted. But these "shadow roads" sounded risky in their own way.
"Show me this shadow road," he decided.
There, directed the leaf-voice. Where light bends wrong around that withered tree.
Adom spotted it—a patch of darkness that seemed deeper than it should be, swirling slightly around the base of a gnarled, dead tree.
"I hope you're right about this," he told the whispers, then glanced at Zuni. "Hold tight, Librarian. We're taking a shortcut."
"I sincerely hope this 'shortcut' is less perilous than what we've encountered thus far," Zuni replied, gripping Adom's collar with renewed determination.
Adom took a deep breath and plunged.
through the darkness, feeling it wrap around him. For three heartbeats, there was nothing—no sound, no light, no sensation beyond the chill against his skin. Then reality snapped back into focus.
He emerged into what seemed like the same swamp, but fundamentally wrong—as if someone had taken the original landscape and twisted it. The trees were taller, more gnarled. The water was blacker. The sky above was a deep purple, without sun or stars.
Move quickly now, the whispers urged. Run northeast. Do not stop.
Adom didn't need to be told twice. He took off at a sprint, his feet barely touching the ground. Since the transformation, his body moved differently—faster, more precisely, with a grace that felt almost supernatural.
"Are we quite certain this is the correct path?" Zuni asked, clinging to Adom's collar.
"No time for debate," Adom replied. He reached up, gently plucking Zuni from his shoulder. "Pocket. Safer."
Zuni made an indignant chirping sound as Adom tucked him into his breast pocket. "I protest this undignified—"
"Shh!"
Behind them, something crashed through the underbrush. Something big.
Left here, the whispers directed. Through the hollow tree.
Adom veered sharply, spotting the massive fallen trunk. He dove through the hollow center without breaking stride, tucking into a roll and coming up running on the other side.
The sounds of pursuit grew louder—heavy footfalls, rhythmic and powerful. Not like the squelching creatures from before. This was different.
More deliberate.
More intelligent.
Right! Now duck!
Adom dropped into a slide just as something whistled overhead—an arrow or spear. It thudded into a tree ahead of him. He rolled behind a boulder, pressing his back against it as he caught his breath.
"I believe we are being hunted," Zuni observed from the pocket, his voice muffled. "Rather enthusiastically, I might add."
Adom peered around the edge of the boulder. What he saw made his blood freeze.
Three massive figures galloped through the swamp about fifty yards back, moving with rapidly through terrain that should have slowed anything larger than a rabbit. Their lower bodies were equine—powerful, muscled, with six legs instead of four. But where a horse's neck should begin, they bore humanoid torsos, twice as tall as a normal man's. Their heads were elongated, with too many eyes arranged in clusters, and their arms—four per creature—carried barbed spears and serrated bows.
"What the hell are those?" Adom whispered.
Her hunters, the whispers replied. The witch's favored trackers. They will not tire. They will not stop.
One of the creatures raised its head, sniffing the air. Multiple eyes swiveled independently, scanning the terrain. It made a sound—a high, keening whistle that set Adom's teeth on edge.
The others responded, spreading out to flank his position.
"They're surrounding us," Adom muttered.
Hurry, the whispers instructed. When the lead hunter passes the dead tree with three branches, run for the stone arch ahead. Do not use magic unless absolutely necessary.
Adom tensed, ready to move. The largest hunter approached the marker tree, its six hooves barely disturbing the muck beneath them.
Five, four, three... Adom counted.
"I do hope you have a plan beyond 'run faster,'" Zuni said.
Two, one, NOW!
Adom exploded from cover, pushing his body to its limit. The world slowed around him as his perception sharpened. He could see each droplet of fetid water splashing as his feet hit the ground, could count the individual teeth in the hunter's mouth as it whipped its head toward him.
The creature howled. Its spear came up, arm drawing back to throw.
Adom didn't break stride. His body twisted in mid-run, corkscrewing around the projectile as it hurtled past. Back on his feet in the same fluid motion, he kept running.
The stone arch loomed ahead—a natural formation of two leaning rocks. Beyond it, the terrain dipped into a ravine choked with mist.
"They're gaining!" Zuni warned, peering from the pocket.
Adom risked a glance back. The hunters were closing, their six-legged gallop eating up the distance with terrifying efficiency. Fifty yards. Forty. The lead hunter's spear arm was drawing back again.
Do not look back. Go through the arch.
Adom dove through the stone arch just as another spear whistled through the air where his head had been. He tucked and rolled down the steep embankment beyond, letting momentum carry him into the mist-filled ravine.
The mist swallowed him whole, thick as soup and cold as ice. For three breaths, he tumbled blindly down the slope, unable to see or orient himself. Then his feet hit solid ground, and he was running again, the whispers guiding his path through the opaque whiteness.
Left. Right. Jump the crevice. Duck under the fallen log.
The hunters crashed into the ravine behind him, their whistling calls distorted by the mist. They were still following, but blind now—tracking by sound and scent rather than sight.
"I say, this fog is rather convenient," Zuni observed, poking his head fully out of the pocket now. "Though I'd prefer if we weren't being pursued by those abominations."
Twenty yards ahead, the whispers directed. There's a passage through the rock face. Too narrow for them to follow.
Adom spotted it—a dark vertical slash in the stone wall of the ravine. He sprinted toward it, hearing the hunters closing in behind him. The lead creature was so close he could hear its breathing—wet and ragged, like a bellows pumping mud.
Five yards from the crevice, his foot caught on a hidden root. He stumbled.
The hunter behind him roared in triumph, multiple arms extending. Clawed fingers grazed Adom's back as he pitched forward.
Instinct took over. Adom tucked into a shoulder roll, converting his fall into controlled momentum. He came up smoothly and threw himself sideways into the narrow gap in the rock wall.
Stone scraped his shoulders as he squeezed through. Behind him, the hunter slammed into the opening, too large to follow. It howled in rage, one arm thrusting into the gap, claws scraping at the air inches from Adom's face.
He scrambled backward, deeper into the passage, until the arm could no longer reach him.
"That was uncomfortably close," Zuni said, his tiny body trembling against Adom's chest.
Adom sucked in a deep breath. "We made it."
Keep moving, the whispers urged. They will find another way around.
The passage was narrow but passable, winding through the rock like a natural tunnel. Adom moved forward at a steady pace, alert for any signs of danger ahead.
After what felt like hours but might have been minutes, the tunnel began to lighten. The whispers grew more insistent.
Hurry. They circle around to the other side.
Adom broke into a jog, then a run as the tunnel widened. Ahead, daylight beckoned—real daylight, not the sickly purple glow of the shadow road.
He burst from the tunnel into blinding sunshine. The transition was jarring—from cold stone to warm, sweet air. For a moment, he stood blinking, adjusting to the light.
A vast prairie stretched before him, tall grasses swaying in a gentle breeze. To his right, a clear river cut through the landscape, its waters sparkling in the sunlight.
It was beautiful. And completely at odds with the nightmarish swamp he'd left behind.
"My word," Zuni said, climbing back onto Adom's shoulder for a better view. "What a remarkable change in scenery."
Adom didn't have time to appreciate it. The ground trembled beneath his feet—the hunters, approaching from another direction.
The river, the whispers said. Get to the river. Water slows them.
Adom took off across the prairie, grass whipping around his legs as he ran. The river was perhaps two hundred yards away—an easy sprint under normal circumstances.
But the ground was shaking more violently now. Looking back, he saw them—the hunters, emerging from a hidden ravine to his left. They'd circled around, just as the whispers predicted.
And in daylight, they were even more terrifying.
Their hides weren't dark as he'd thought in the shadow road, but a mottled gray-green that shifted color as they moved, blending with their surroundings. Their multiple eyes gleamed like polished onyx, and their arms—each ending in three-fingered claws—moved with unsettling coordination.
The largest one spotted him and let out a sound like a hunting horn. The three split up, moving to surround him.
Adom calculated angles quickly. He couldn't outrun them to the river—they'd cut him off before he made it halfway.
"I need to slow them down," he muttered.
"Might I suggest using their size against them?" Zuni offered. "The terrain here seems considerably less stable than their homeland."
Adom glanced at the ground beneath his feet. The prairie wasn't solid earth but rather a floating mat of vegetation over what might be deeper water or mud.
An idea formed.
He changed direction, running parallel to the approaching hunters rather than away from them. The sudden shift seemed to confuse them momentarily.
"What precisely is the plan?" Zuni asked, clinging to Adom's collar as he accelerated.
"Making a trap."
Adom's hands moved in a subtle pattern at his side, weaving the simplest spell he could manage—just enough to weaken the ground without creating a visible energy signature.
[Loosen Earth]
The spell spread outward from his feet, affecting a circular area about twenty yards across. To the eye, nothing changed, but Adom could feel the difference—the mat of vegetation was now barely supported, floating on mud rather than anchored to anything solid.
The lead hunter charged straight toward him, six hooves pounding the earth, arms outstretched. It hit the weakened ground at full gallop.
The effect was immediate and spectacular. The surface gave way like wet paper, and the massive creature crashed through. Its forward momentum carried it several yards before it bogged down, sinking rapidly into the mud beneath. It thrashed, howling in surprise and rage, but each movement only pulled it deeper.
The other two hunters veered away from the collapsing ground, circling to approach from different angles.
"One down, two to go," Adom said, already running again, angling toward the river.
The hunters were more cautious now, testing the ground before committing their weight. It slowed them, but not enough. They were still faster than him, still gaining.
"They're rather persistent," Zuni observed.
Adom reached the riverbank with the hunters less than thirty yards behind. The water flowed swift and clear—about twenty feet across and of unknown depth.
Use it, the whispers urged. The water is yours to command.
Adom turned to face his pursuers, his back to the river. The hunters slowed their approach, spreading out to flank him. They recognized a cornered prey when they saw one.
The closest hunter raised its spear, a cruel smile spreading across its elongated face.
Adom smiled back.
The roles, it seemed, had switched.
His hands rose in a fluid motion.
[Water Manipulation]
Behind him, the river responded. A column of water rose, twisting like a living thing. It hovered for a moment, then shot forward at Adom's silent command.
The first hunter had no time to react. The water engulfed it completely, forming a churning sphere that lifted the creature off its feet. Inside the watery prison, the hunter thrashed and twisted, but couldn't break free.
Adom clenched his fist.
[Freeze]
The water prison instantly crystallized, trapping the hunter in a perfect sculpture of ice. For a heartbeat, it hung suspended in the air, a massive frozen statue. Then Adom released his hold, and it crashed to the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces.
The second hunter hesitated, multiple eyes blinking in what might have been surprise. Then, with a howl of rage, it charged.
Adom's hands were already moving again, drawing more water from the river. This time, he shaped it into dozens of spears, each as sharp as the finest steel.
[Ice Lances]
The hunter tried to dodge, its six legs moving with incredible agility. It avoided the first volley, the second, even part of the third. But there were too many. Ice spears impaled it through the chest, the neck, the hindquarters.
It stumbled, still trying to advance despite its wounds. Three more spears pierced its torso. It collapsed, ten yards from where Adom stood.
"Hah! Take this, you puny creatures, how dare you challenge a hunter as primal as a mage?" Zuni commented.
Adom lowered his hands, breathing hard. "Two down. Where's the—"
A shadow fell across him.
The third hunter—the largest—had circled during the fight. It loomed over him now, having approached silently from behind while he was distracted.
Adom spun, hands rising to weave another spell.
Too slow.
The hunter's arm swung down, not with a weapon but open-handed. The blow caught Adom across the chest, sending him flying backward.
He hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop several yards away. The spell he'd been forming dissipated, incomplete.
The hunter advanced, drawing a curved blade from its side. It made that keening whistle again—a sound of triumph.
Adom struggled to his feet, gathering his power for another spell. The white energy flowed more sluggishly now, his concentration broken by the impact. Or was it fatigue?
The hunter raised its blade.
And then it stopped. Its eyes widened, multiple pupils dilating in shock. A thin red line appeared across its neck.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the hunter's head slid from its shoulders, toppling forward to hit the ground with a dull thud. The body remained standing for three more heartbeats before collapsing in a heap.
Behind it stood a figure.
Tall—taller than Adom by at least a head—and wrapped in what looked like animal hides. A mask covered the upper half of the figure's face, crafted from what might have been a skull, white and gleaming in the sunlight. Dark hair spilled out from behind it, wild and uncut.
In the figure's hand was a curved blade, similar to the hunter's but more elegant, still dripping with dark blood.
It is her. The whispers said. The girl.
She pointed the blade directly at Adom's heart and shouted in a language he'd never heard before.
Adom raised his hands slowly. "I don't understand. I'm not your enemy."
The girl advanced, blade unwavering. She gestured at the fallen hunters, then back at Adom, clearly accusing him of bringing them here.
"I'm just trying to get away from them," Adom said, making calming gestures. "Same as you, I imagine."
The girl scoffed, saying something else in her strange language. She lunged forward suddenly, grabbing Adom by the front of his tunic and yanking him close. She was surprisingly strong for her lean frame, lifting him almost off his feet despite him being smaller than her.
Her eyes behind the wolf-skull mask were fierce and green, studying him with naked suspicion.
Do not resist her, the whispers warned suddenly. She is protected.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Adom said, keeping his hands visible and away from his body. "I just want to—"
The girl shook him violently, cutting him off. She said something else, her tone demanding. When Adom only looked confused, she shook him again, harder.
"I don't understand your language," Adom said, struggling to keep his balance as she gripped him.
"What does she want?" Zuni whispered from his pocket.
The girl spotted the movement, her eyes widening. She released Adom abruptly, jumping back and raising her blade defensively.
"It's just my friend," Adom said, carefully reaching into his pocket and lifting Zuni out. "See? He's harmless."
"I resent that characterization," Zuni muttered.
The girl stared at the quillick, momentarily distracted. Then her attention snapped back to Adom. She jabbed her blade toward him, saying something that sounded like a command.
"I think she wants us to leave," Zuni suggested.
Tell her the dryads sent you, the leaf-voice urged. Say 'meth'kal vor'as'
"Meth'kal vor'as," Adom repeated carefully.
The girl froze. The blade dipped slightly, her eyes widening behind the mask. She said something questioning, her voice softer now.
"Meth'kal vor'as," Adom repeated, gesturing to his ears. "The whispers. They guide me."
The girl's posture shifted, her head tilting as she studied him. She said something else, then gestured toward the mountains in the distance, then back at him, clearly asking a question.
"I'm trying to reach a cave," Adom said, mimicking a cave shape with his hands. "There's something there I need to find."
The girl shook her head, clearly frustrated by the language barrier. She stepped forward again, this time reaching for Adom's arm.
Let her touch you, the whispers said. She means no harm.
Adom held still as the girl grabbed his wrist. Her grip was firm but not painful. She turned his arm over, examining the white energy that still flickered beneath his skin.
"Mage," she said, one of the few words Adom could understand. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable behind the mask.
Then, with no warning, she shoved him hard.
Adom stumbled backward, surprised by the sudden aggression. "What—"
The girl was shouting now, advancing on him with her blade raised. Whatever understanding they'd briefly established was gone.
Do not resist! the whispers warned urgently. Her guardian comes!
Before Adom could process this, something massive slammed into him from behind. He felt it before he saw anything—a pressure in the air, a sense of enormous weight descending. Then he was airborne, struck by something he couldn't see but that felt like a battering ram.
He flew backward twenty feet, the world spinning around him. Somehow, his body reacted without conscious thought. He twisted mid-air, hands weaving a [Wind Cushion] spell. He landed in a crouch, one knee and one hand touching the ground to stabilize himself.
His head rang with the impact. Half-conscious, he looked up.
A distortion hovered in the air near the girl—or at least, partial form. It was enormous, at least fifteen feet tall, with a vaguely humanoid shape but no solid outline. Wind swirled around it, creating a visible boundary of dust and leaves. Where a face might be, two glowing points of blue light stared down at him with cold intensity.
The girl stood before it, tiny in comparison, one hand raised toward the spirit. She was speaking rapidly, her tone urgent.