Page 47 of Feral Gods
We reach the main hall to find Thane already there, his massive iron-black form silhouetted against the faint blue glow of the neptherium nodes. His crimson eyes find us immediately, narrowing slightly at our proximity before focusing on more urgent matters.
"Six signatures approaching from the northern ridge," he reports. "Two dark elf, four... something else. Similar to the witch Kaia and I encountered in the forest, but stronger."
"Flamekeepers," Zephyr concludes, his scholarly detachment giving way to tactical assessment. "Likely drawn by the magical discharge when Kaia activated the temple defenses."
"Where's Ravik?" I ask, searching the shadowed hall for his commanding presence.
"Upper observation point," Thane answers. "Tracking their approach vectors."
As if summoned by his name, Ravik appears at the top of the stairs leading to the temple's highest level. His obsidian wings are partially extended, amber eyes glowing with battle-readiness.
"They're not attempting concealment," he announces, descending with powerful strides. "Moving directly toward our position in formation. This is no scouting party—it's a deliberate assault."
"Targeting Kaia specifically," Zephyr adds, moving protectively closer to my side. "The Flamekeepers must have confirmed her identity through magical detection."
Ravik's gaze falls on me, intense and unreadable. "To the inner sanctum. Now."
Yesterday, I might have bristled at the command. Today, with the memory of my newfound abilities still tingling in my palms, I hesitate for different reasons. "What if I can help? The magic I just accessed with Zephyr?—"
"Untrained power is as dangerous to allies as enemies," Ravik cuts me off, though his tone softens slightly. "Your safety remains our priority."
"They're here for me," I argue. "Shouldn't I at least?—"
A tremendous impact shakes the sanctuary, sending dust cascading from the ancient ceiling. The neptherium nodes flare brightly before several wink out entirely, plunging portions of the hall into darkness.
"That was not a physical attack," Zephyr observes grimly. "Magical countermeasures targeting our defensive wards."
"They're dismantling our protections systematically," Ravik growls. "Thane, northern approach. Zephyr, shore up the inner wards. I'll hold the main entrance."
The three move with practiced coordination despite centuries of imprisonment Thane bounding toward the side corridor with surprising speed for his massive frame, Zephyr moving toward the chamber housing the temple's central defense matrix, Ravik striding purposefully toward the hastily repaired main doors.
I stand frozen momentarily, torn between obedience to Ravik's command and a growing certainty that my place is not hiding in the inner sanctum while others fight on my behalf. The magic still hums beneath my skin, awakened by Zephyr's guidance and now responding to the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Decision made, I follow Zephyr toward the central defense chamber. If I cannot fight directly, perhaps I can at least strengthen the wards as I did before, this time with conscious intent rather than accidental manifestation.
The defense chamber pulses with blue-white light when we enter, the central altar already active with flowing sigils. Zephyr moves immediately to the control mechanisms, his clawed hands manipulating complex patterns with practiced precision despite their size.
"The outer barriers are failing faster than anticipated," he reports without looking up. "These purna know our defenses too well for coincidence."
"They helped create them," I realize aloud. "The Flamekeepers were allies of the dark elves when this sanctuary was built, weren't they?"
"Initially, yes." His fingers never cease their complex movements across the altar's surface. "Before relations deteriorated and they were hunted to near extinction."
Another impact rocks the sanctuary, this one close enough to send tremors through the floor beneath our feet. Several ceiling tiles crack, showering us with ancient dust and small debris.
"Can I help?" I ask, stepping closer to the altar. "Like before, with the sigils?"
Zephyr hesitates, scholarly caution warring with practical necessity. "The risk?—"
"Is acceptable compared to capture or death," I finish for him. "Show me what to do."
After a moment's consideration, he nods sharply. "Place your hands here and here," he instructs, indicating two specific points on the altar's surface. "Focus on the sensation you experienced during our exercise—energy gathering in your palms, connecting with the temple's existing magic."
I position my hands as directed, closing my eyes to better concentrate on the internal sensations. The warmth builds more quickly this time, flowing from my center down my arms to pool in my palms where they contact the ancient stone. Beneath my fingers, the altar's surface seems to vibrate in response, as if recognizing something in my touch.
"Good," Zephyr encourages. "Now visualize that energy flowing into the temple walls, strengthening them against external assault."
I follow his guidance, imagining my energy spreading outward from the altar, flowing through channels carved into the very structure of the sanctuary. The connection feels both foreign and strangely familiar, as if I'm remembering rather than learning.
