Shervin ran through a thicket in the woods, and the Raidens followed.
He was already out of breath, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to run before his legs gave up. Last week, the Raidens had used their wards on him, and converted him into a ferret. He had spent two nights frightened and cooped up inside a hole in the ground, as bloodthirsty dogs and coyotes circled around. Each hour felt like an eternity, each growl an ominous sound of death. After two nights, the effects of the wards had waned off, and he found himself back to his human self, albeit tired, famished, and smelling of mud and shit.
"Run and hide, all you want, Shervin! We've got a nasty little surprise for you this time!" the voice of Karn, one of the Raidens, echoed through the woods. Shervin couldn't afford to stop.
"What will it be this time, huh? A rat?" another Raiden spoke, chuckling mirthlessly.
"No, man. Shervin will become an ant this time. This time my ward will be so strong, when he comes back, he won't even remember his name."
Shervin wiped the sweat off his brow as he ran. Losing the trail of the Raidens was tricky. Behind him was a thick cover of brambles and thorns, but that went only so far. He wished he knew enough Warding to throw the Raidens off his scent. But he was just the village tailor's boy, meant for stitching up coats and robes, dresses and drapes.
"Where are you, tailor boy!? C'mon, show us your face, don't be shy!" Karn whistled.
"I see him!"
Shervin's heart hammered as ice slithered across his spine. Karn's voice sounded so near. Had the Raidens caught up to him? Was he too slow? Was it going to be another long night in a different form? An ant? Anything but an ant! He will be crushed to death and that will be the end of him.
A waning sunlight sieved through the edge of the forest, barely illuminating Shervin's path. Dead grass crunched beneath his boots as he ran, panting, wishing his movements and breath would make less sound. Hanging branches hacked and scraped against his skin as he tore through another thick mess of brambles, hoping to find a hiding spot.
"There he is! C'mon, Sherryyyy!"
Something sharp whizzed past Shervin's ear. A loud twang, and a blur of a moment later, he saw an arrow lodged on a tree trunk a few paces ahead. Green shimmer oozed out of the tip of the arrow, smearing the bark of the tree. Remnants of a powerful warding. Karn was using bow and arrow, and he had painted the tip of his arrow in Warding fluid.
"Son of a bitch," whispered Shervin under his breath. Had the arrow struck him on his head, it wouldn't have pierced his skull. It would immediately have converted him into whatever animal Karn wanted him to be. Rodent, ant, rabbit, anything.
"Lousy shot!" said another Raiden. Shervin could almost hear Karn's grunt of disappointment.
"You are free to try yourself, but I know your wards suck balls. You might just convert yourself into a mole. Now hurry up, we will lose him."
Shervin swerved to his left, avoiding a dead snake hanging off a tree-branch. But his feet fell on soft mulch, his right foot sinking an inch deep under the grass while his left foot was on solid ground.
"Ah, shit, is this quicksand?" Shervin cursed. He pulled, but lost his balance, and tumbled forward. The earth sloped downwards at a steep angle, and Shervin's body kept rolling along like a boulder. When he finally came to a stop, he was covered in grass, dead worms, and a whole lot of quicksand.
He patted himself and looked around. What at first had seemed like a ditch, was in fact a vast crater, right at the heart of the forest. The earth around him sloped upwards in a circle. At the lip of the crater stood tall coniferous trees like sentinels. Beyond them, only the sky, now streaked with ribbons of orange dusk.
"Where did he go?" came the distant sound of Karn. Then, for a long while, nothing else.
Shervin finally caught his breath. Sun was slowly setting. Barely any light filtered through the trees, and Shervin had to scrunch his eyes really hard to see anything.
But the good thing was that he had managed to lose the Raidens, who were barely audible now. Now and then, he could hear a shout, a faint curse, probably uttered by Karn, but nothing much.
Very soon, the woods plunged into darkness. A hush fell upon his surroundings, interrupted only by the sound of crickets, and an occasional howl of wolves. Shervin just hoped no wolves found him here, deep inside the crater, hurt and tired.
Slowly, his heartbeat steadied. He felt for firm ground, and slowly started moving forward. If he had to spend the night here, he would have to find a dry patch of earth. There was no way he would be able to make the climb back to the forest floor in darkness, much less make it back to his village. His father would get worried, but it wasn't the first time Shervin would have gone missing. He would know.
"If only I knew Warding," he mumbled to himself. But Warding was meant for the elite, not for a tailor's son like himself. Karn was the son of an oil merchant, while Jor, his lacky, was the son of wealthy nobleman. Both their families still depended on Shervin's father's skills for their fancy clothes, and yet, he was treated less than a vermin.
"Learn tailoring, Shervin," his father would say. "After me, you are the one who will sew all their torn pockets. Then they'll know your real worth."
Shervin could never tell if his father really wanted the best for him. He knew deep inside he possessed a skill for Warding. He just needed a teacher. A guide. A mentor.
Suddenly, the sky was illuminated by a blinding, violet light. It was a brief but violent burst of immense brightness, that lit up the entire crater, allowing Shervin to see his surroundings for a short moment. He was only a few feet away from the center of the crater. But what he saw there made his breath hitch in his lungs.
A small shrine.
Shervin's brain went into a tizzy. Shrines were meant for gods, and were usually bigger, more elaborately constructed. But this was barely an outcropping, a rough collection of stones, piled atop each other. What made it a shrine, however, was a small entrance carved into the face of the stones, and a familiar marking above -- a winged, reptilian creature eating its own tail.
It was the mark of the Violet God.
Shervin crawled towards the shrine. A faint glow emanated from the small entrance. The gap was wide enough for an arm to go inside. The glow was pulsating and inviting, and Shervin felt a strange pull towards it. He was tempted to touch the shrine, and whatever was gleaming inside it.
He had heard tales of the Violet God. The one who sat on an ivory throne in the Sixth Plane, the one who had imprisoned the Mad One inside a chamber of dreams. His final form of ascension was a giant tall, six-headed winged serpent. He was all powerful, all seeing, and controlled all Planes of existence. His was the sky, and all the kingdoms.
But why would he have a shrine in the middle of the woods? It did not make any sense. The Violet God had temples across the Ten Kingdoms of Runar, with thousands of priests and acolytes working round the clock, sending prayer wards to the Sixth Plane.
"This is a mistake. The Raidens must be gone by now. I must try to make my way back, somehow," Shervin thought to himself.
But then, the shrine itself gleamed brilliantly, illuminating the entire crater. A deep, sonorous hum emanated from the stones, like the remnants of a forgotten chant.
The shrine was calling Shervin.
And he reached out to touch it.