Page 25 of Feral Gods
"The temple's defensive systems were designed to be maintained by dark elf acolytes with minimal magical ability," I explain, rising from the bench. "Many of the control mechanisms require delicate manipulation that our gargoyle forms make difficult. Your smaller hands would be ideal for reactivating certain sigil sequences."
Kaia follows me from the archives, through winding corridors to a chamber I discovered yesterday—a hexagonal room at the heart of the temple, its walls inscribed withprotective sigils that pulse faintly with dormant magic. At the center stands a circular altar carved from black stone, its surface etched with a complex array of symbols arranged in concentric rings.
"This is the nexus point for the temple's defensive matrix," I tell her, watching her expression shift from curiosity to awe as she takes in the ancient workmanship. "Each sigil connects to a corresponding ward in the outer defenses. By channeling energy through specific sequences, we can strengthen those wards against different types of attacks—including magical tracking."
"It's beautiful," she murmurs, approaching the altar with reverent steps. "Like a language written in light and shadow."
Her poetic observation surprises me. "An apt description. Magic, at its core, is a language—a means of communicating intent to the fundamental forces of creation."
I guide her around the altar, explaining the basic principles of sigil activation. Unlike the complex incantations required for most magical workings, these were designed to be activated through physical contact in the correct sequence, drawing on the ambient magical energy of the temple itself rather than the practitioner's personal power.
"These three sigils," I indicate a triad of symbols resembling interlocking crescents, "form the foundation of anti-scrying protections. Touch them in sequence—outer, inner, middle—while focusing on the concept of concealment."
Kaia hesitates, her slender fingers hovering above the carved stone. "What if I do it wrong? Could I damage the defenses?"
"The system was designed with numerous safeguards," I assure her. "At worst, the sigils simply won't activate. The temple won't explode."
A small smile curves her lips at my attempt at humor. "Comforting."
She takes a deep breath, then touches the first sigil as instructed. Nothing happens immediately, but she continues, pressing the second, then the third symbol in sequence. For a moment, the chamber remains unchanged—then a soft blue glow emanates from the sigils, spreading outward in rippling waves that trace the connections between the symbols.
"Good," I encourage her, genuinely pleased with her first attempt. "Now try this sequence for protection against elemental attacks."
We work through several more basic sequences, Kaia growing more confident with each successful activation. The defensive matrix responds to her touch with increasing responsiveness, sigils illuminating more quickly and with greater intensity than I would expect from a complete novice.
"You have a natural affinity for this," I observe, watching as she completes a particularly complex sequence without error. "Most practitioners require significant training before achieving such consistent results."
"It feels... familiar somehow," she admits, a small crease forming between her brows. "As if I've done this before, though I know that's impossible."
Another piece of evidence supporting my growing theory. "Magic often recognizes its own, even when consciously forgotten."
Her expression turns troubled. "You really believe I might have purna ancestry? Wouldn't I have known? Wouldn't there have been... signs?"
"Not necessarily. Magic manifests differently in each individual, and can remain dormant without proper training or triggering circumstances." I gesture to the now-glowing altar. "Consider how the temple's defenses lay inactive for centuries until the right stimulus awakened them."
Kaia stares at her hands as if seeing them for the first time. "If you're right... if I do have some latent magical ability... could that be why King Kres wants me back so badly? Could he somehow know?"
A prescient question that has occupied my thoughts as well. "It's possible. The royal houses have always maintained extensive records of magical bloodlines, particularly those with significant potential. If your ancestry connects to a powerful purna lineage, you might represent a resource they wish to control."
"A resource," she repeats bitterly. "A tool. A weapon. Just another form of property."
"To them, perhaps." I move closer, careful to maintain a respectful distance despite my instinct to offer physical comfort. "But your value extends far beyond whatever power you may or may not possess. You've demonstrated intelligence, courage, and adaptability that would be remarkable in any being, regardless of magical potential."
She looks up, surprise flickering across her features at my sincere praise. For a moment, something unspoken passes between us—a connection deeper than mentor and student, more complex than protector and ward. I feel an unexpected warmth in my chest, a stirring of emotions I had thought calcified by centuries of stone sleep.
The moment breaks as she turns back to the altar. "Show me the next sequence. If I have any ability that could help strengthen our defenses, I want to use it."
"This next set addresses magical tracking specifically," I explain, indicating a spiral pattern of interconnected glyphs near the altar's edge. "It's considerably more complex than the previous sequences. Don't be discouraged if it doesn't activate immediately."
Kaia studies the pattern with intense concentration, then begins the sequence, her fingers moving with surprising confidence from one sigil to the next. As she touches the final symbol, something unexpected occurs—the blue glow that accompanied previous activations deepens to violet, then brightens to a brilliant magenta that illuminates the entire chamber.
The light pulses outward from the altar in concentric waves, far more powerful than any previous activation. I feel the magic resonate through the temple, rippling through the defensive matrix with a strength that surpasses my most optimistic expectations.
More concerning, I see the light reflected in Kaia's eyes—not as external illumination, but as an inner glow that suggests the magic is responding to something within her, drawing upon her essence rather than merely the temple's ambient energy.
"Kaia," I say cautiously, "are you feeling any unusual sensations? Dizziness, disorientation, tingling?"
"I feel..." She pauses, expression shifting to wonder. "Strong. Clear. Like I've been seeing the world through clouded glass until now."
