Page 62 of Feral Gods
"The gaps are sealing," she says with quiet wonder. "I can feel the perimeter strengthening."
I step closer, observing the elegant precision of her magical signature. While most novice practitioners produce crude, forceful effects, Kaia's magic displays a natural sophistication that speaks to her bloodline. The descendant of the very purna who cursed us now works to protect our sanctuary. The irony is not lost on me.
"Why does it feel different today?" she asks, opening her eyes to meet mine. In the magical light, her irises appear almost luminous, flecked with the same magenta that emanates from her fingertips.
"Yesterday, you were reacting instinctively. Today, you're creating with intention." I gesture to the complex web of energy surrounding us. "The difference between a scream and a song."
Her smile—slight but genuine—sends an unexpected warmth through my chest. These unfamiliar emotions continue to disrupt my scholarly detachment, a condition that would have concerned me greatly before our awakening. Now, I find myself increasingly willing to embrace the disruption.
"The pouch," she says, gaze shifting to the leather container. "Do you think it's safe to examine now?"
"Safer, with our enhanced defenses, though still not without risk." I move to stand beside her at the altar. "The scout clearly intended for you to find it. The question is whether as weapon or offering."
Kaia's expression hardens at the mention of the scout—the intruder who slipped past our perimeter during the aftermathof the dark elf attack, who confronted her with the truth of her purna heritage before escaping Ravik's wrath. The memory of Ravik's fury when he discovered the breach still echoes through our sanctuary.
"Only one way to find out." She reaches for the pouch, but I catch her wrist.
"Allow me." Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us—a current of awareness that transcends our teacher-student dynamic. "Your value is incalculable. Mine is... more expendable."
"Don't say that." Her free hand covers mine where it encircles her wrist. "None of you are expendable to me."
The quiet intensity of her declaration resonates in the chamber. I release her wrist slowly, fingertips trailing across her skin.
"Then we proceed together, with caution." I position myself beside her. "Extend your senses first. What do you perceive?"
Kaia closes her eyes again, her consciousness reaching outward in the way I've taught her. After a moment, she speaks.
"No active malice. The magic feels... dormant. Waiting."
"For what, I wonder?" I murmur, extending my own senses to confirm her assessment. She's correct—the pouch contains power, but not hostility. "Stand back slightly. Maintain your defenses."
Using a small obsidian blade, I carefully cut the leather cord binding the pouch. The material parts easily, too easily for something so ancient-looking. Inside lies a single object—a pendant of polished neptherium crystal threaded on a silver chain. The crystal pulses with a familiar magenta light.
"It's attuned to you," I observe, studying the pendant without touching it. "A beacon of sorts."
Kaia leans closer, her shoulder brushing mine. "For tracking?"
"Perhaps. Or communication." I gesture to the complex patterns etched into the neptherium's surface. "These are familial sigils—marks that connect blood to blood."
Her breath catches. "The Matriarch."
"Indeed. Your ancestress seeks connection."
The implications hang in the air between us. The Purna Matriarch—Morwen, the witch who cursed us centuries ago—now reaches across time and space to her descendant. The same witch who, according to the scout's revelations, has actively sought Kaia since discovering her existence.
"I won't be anyone's puppet," Kaia says firmly. "Not King Kres's, not this Matriarch's."
"And yet, this artifact might provide valuable insights." I indicate the pendant with a careful talon. "Knowledge is power, Kaia. Even—perhaps especially—knowledge of one's enemies."
She considers this, conflict evident in her expression. "Can we examine it without... accepting whatever connection it offers?"
"A reasonable precaution." I move to a nearby shelf where I've arranged various magical tools salvaged from the temple. "We can create a containment circle—observe without engaging."
For the next hour, we work in harmonious tandem, establishing a complex series of wards around the pendant. Kaia follows my instructions with intuitive grace, her magical signature complementing mine in ways that continually surprise me. When our energies interact, the resulting patterns display a symmetry I've never achieved with another practitioner, not even in my days as the royal court's most accomplished mage.
"There," I say finally, as the last ward locks into place. "Now we can safely probe its mysteries."
The containment circle glows with layered protections—my cool blue-white energy intertwined with Kaia's vibrant magenta.Within this boundary, the pendant floats suspended, its own light pulsing in response to our magical examination.
