They say reality is shaped by the wise eyes of our divines, so that all this vastness may be understood and cherished. So that every star, every humble, simple act, may teach us of our ancestors' lives and the majesty of the Gods.
But may the mighty Mother Wolf forgive me—such resplendent magnificence could only have sprung from the purest gaze of a child. For existence was not created first for contemplation, but to be lived! Every stone, every pain, every hunt we have ever made, was made to be felt.
Today, I will tell you the story of the man who left the deepest mark upon my life. A man who understood that purpose. He was not only my dearest friend but the brother I never had. Ladies and gentlemen of this new generation, today you will follow me not merely through a man's life, but through history itself, across lands and seas, among all the beings I am blessed to share this world with. This story, above all… is the Story of all Reenster.
I know not how to properly categorize this tale. Call it a legend, a chronicle, an epic, or a tragedy. It matters little, for even epics must begin and end.
---
An elderly woman with dusk-toned skin, clad in furs, watched a fire within an improvised tent lit by torches. She approached the flames, grinding materials in a gourd.
—Oh Mother, Lady of the Hunt, light that pierces the night, mother of all mothers. I beg a prosperous journey for my people. We shall not yield to the cold, nor to the mountain's cruelty—we shall embrace it. Let us cry out for our children as you cry out for us.— As she spoke, she cast the ground materials bit by bit into the fire. The flames shifted hue with each offering until they calmed into a steady, silvery glow.
She took up a mask resembling a wolf and a staff carved with the phases of the moon. Passing the staff through the fire, the flames climbed the carvings, illuminating every groove.
The figure rose and began to twirl the flaming staff in a ritual dance—a motion suddenly cut short. Every torch snuffed out at once, revealing small bones embedded in the tent walls. They caught the firelight, scattering it like a field of stars. And from near the hearth, faint voices whispered:
—With your light I shall never walk the shadows. Illuminate me with your sway, your silver arrows that cleave this metallic sky. Let us hunt your light and never find our ini—
The prayers shattered as a small child with hair white as snow burst into the tent.
—Grandmother!—
A tall man with his hair tied back entered swiftly behind him, seizing the child's shoulder.
—Guarin! Do not interrupt the Ancientsage at her prayers. Her work is vital!— As the man held the child, the central flames guttered and weakened.
—Let him be, Kadesh. The Great Mother is never angered by a pup. His time to know Her would have come regardless.— The woman's tone was warm, forgiving.
The man released the child, bowed his head in reverence, and withdrew. Guarin edged toward the fire, eager, but flinched as the flames roared back to strength. The woman settled beside the hearth.
—Why enter my tent when Kadesh forbade it?— she asked, returning to her grinding.
—I… am afraid, Grandmother.— Guarin shrank in on himself.
—Afraid of what, my pup? A nightmare?— She took a white powder from a gourd and mixed it with water.
—I heard Kadesh. He said we have food for only three more days. The others… they aren't eating so the mothers and children can have their share.— Guarin's eyes were locked on the hypnotic dance of the fire.
The woman began painting her own face with the pigment, then turned to Guarin.
—So you fear starvation. We will not starve. This is not our first hard winter. Trust the Great Mother and the mountain. They do not let the strong—like our people—perish in so banal a way.— Her conviction was iron as she traced lunar patterns on his skin.
—Kadesh told me you left the mountain once. In your youth. He said life out there isn't as harsh… So why did you return?— The child presented his belly for painting.
—Because for all the wonders I witnessed in my travels across Reenster, it was here, upon my return, that I truly found myself. Beyond this mountain lies everything you might imagine: seas of liquid water, volcanoes wreathed in snow, people who could shatter an army alone…— She finished painting him and rose slowly.
—Are there people more skilled than you?— Guarin reached out, letting the flames lick the painted designs on his arm. They did not burn.
—Of course. Reenster is vast, dear one. And she reveals her marvels only to those who can endure the journey. My travels spanned thirty years, and still I feel I saw less than half of what this land holds.— The woman twirled her staff, and the flames leaped to her own, far more intricate markings.
She placed her mask upon her face and handed a smaller one to Guarin, who put it on eagerly. Taking a handful of dust from a final gourd, she cast it into the fire. A plume of dense, blue smoke billowed forth, filling the space.
—Breathe deep, child. Let our Mother show you how she provides.— The smoke swallowed the woman, then Guarin.
---
Guarin stood in the heart of a blizzard. A scent, rich and primal, cut through the icy air, pulling him forward.
—Where is this? What is that smell? Why don't I feel cold?— His questions vanished as he faced a cliff of sheer stone. He tried to climb, but his hands were wrong—larger, furred, tipped with claws.
—What? How? There!— Instinct overthought. The scent was close. He ran, a blur against the snow, and found his quarry: a creature like an antelope, struggling in a drift.
He was upon it in a leap, jaws sinking into its flank. The taste of life filled his mouth. He was torn away but not before his claws raked deep. The prey fled in terror.
You will not escape. You are mine! The thought was pure, hot instinct.
The creature stumbled on a rocky slope, sending a cascade of stone toward him. Without thinking, a silver spear was in his hand. He hurled it. The rocks shattered into dust.
—WHERE DID THIS COME FROM? HOW DID I DO THAT?!— The chase continued.
He saw the spear, lodged ahead. A plan, not quite his own, formed. He leaped, planting a foot on the shaft to launch himself through the air. As he flew, the spear melted from the stone and flowed back into his grip, reshaping into a bow, a silver arrow nocked and ready.
Feed the pack!
The arrow flew with impossible force, striking the creature and carrying it away in a burst of light and snow.
---
He awoke to thunder and a tremor that shook the world.
—What? How?— He was back in the tent. The fire was dead ash. His grandmother gone. Outside, shouts and chaos.
He stumbled out. A colossal beast—an antilus—was pinned to the mountainside, a gargantuan silver arrow through its heart.
—By the Mother… a full-grown antilus!— Kadesh's voice was a mix of terror and awe.
All eyes turned up. Across the vast ravine, clinging to the cliff face, was a silhouette of impossible scale. A wolf-like being, holding a bow that mirrored the one from his dream. The Great Mother.
—Our Mother?!— The tribe's cry became a single, united howl of devotion.
The divine silhouette turned. For a heartbeat, her gaze—a weight of moons and ancient winters—rested on Guarin alone. It was dazzling, terrifying, majestic. He fell to his knees.
Then, she was gone, climbing the sheer rock and vanishing into the high mist.
The tribe erupted into motion, descending on the bounty with cries of joy, knives already working.
—This is Garintim. Goddess of the Moon, of Mothers, of the Hunt, of Birth. Our eternal protector. She provides for all her children, even those adopted by her mountain. She would never let us fade.— The Ancientsage stood behind him, a hand on his trembling shoulder.
—She is… incredible. I saw through her eyes. How?— He was breathless, ecstatic.
—Some souls resonate more deeply with a God. You and I are such echoes. We are closer to her than most. But she is one divinity among many walking Reenster, one wonder in a world of them. There is so much more.— She helped him to his feet.
—More like her? They can't possibly match her power.— His voice was full of youthful certainty.
A low chuckle. —Oh, no. She is far from the most powerful God in the skies. But do not mistake that for weakness. She is the one who claimed my heart. We are each drawn to a different face of the divine. It seems our tastes align, grandson. Just try not to fall for rowdy women, hehe. I speak from experience; it is not a fun path.— She ruffled his hair, the gesture utterly human amidst the divine.
Bursting with a euphoria he could not contain, Guarin hugged her fiercely, then ran to find Kadesh, desperate to share the vision.
---
The next dawn found Guarin helping Kadesh and the other children prepare their sleeping nets.
—Kadesh, have you ever seen her eyes? The Great Mother's?—
—Hm? No, pup. I am not one the Great Mother finds particularly interesting. Not like you and the Ancientsage.— Kadesh secured a net to a post.
—But you're the strongest! The best warrior we have! Everyone loves you!—
—The Ancientsage could still best me without breaking a sweat. That title is hers for as long as she draws breath. Now, to bed. The sun is almost here, and your parents will have my hide if I let you stay up past dawn.— Kadesh piled furs onto him.
As Kadesh turned, Guarin spoke again, his voice suddenly grave in the dim light.
—Kadesh… I want to be like her. I want to see all of it. I want to know the truth of Reenster.—
—You are her grandson, no doubt. But don't be a fool. She did not travel the world alone. She had a company, loyal and strong, and even among them, she was not always the mightiest. Find your own pack.—
—I will. I'll find the best ones. Brothers from other mothers. We'll make you so proud, Kadesh.— The determination in his voice was absolute.
Kadesh smiled, a rare, soft expression. —Now sleep, milk-fang. You're waking the other pups.— He nodded to the children already drifting off.
Guarin settled into his net, the words of the Ancientsage and Kadesh weaving through his dreams. Life flowed on, until his sixteenth birthday, when everything changed forever.
---
At dusk, on a windswept plain, five youths hauled the carcass of a massive horned beast toward home. Their white hair, grown long at the nape, gave them the look of a young pride.
One dropped his rope and sat heavily in the snow.
—Nuka! Pick up the rope! This isn't over— Siarq, the largest, barked.
—I'm tired, Siarq! Give me a breath. You rest too.—
—This beast died to feed the tribe. Your tribe, in case you forgot.— Maya, at the rear, shot him a venomous look. Nuka just grunted, which seemed to be the last straw. She stepped forward, fury in her stance.
A young man with a scar at his throat and his mane artfully shorn at the sides moved between them.
—Maya, easy. He's baiting you. And we all know you could break every bone in his body without trying. We need every hunter. Besides,— he turned to Nuka, —he's just stalling because it's his turn with the new litter tonight.—
Nuka shot to his feet. —Shut it, Guarin! First, I could take this stuck-up Caipora any day. Second, I'm a hunter, not a wet-nurse!—
—We've all done it, Nuka. Me, Maya, Siarq. Last year. You chose not to.— Guarin leaned against the carcass.
—I don't like pups. They bite. They scratch. They're messy. Guarin here was covered in bite marks all last season.— Nuka kicked at the snow.
—Some are proper scars now!— another youth laughed.
Guarin sighed, walked over, and thrust the rope back into Nuka's hands.
—They're pups. They need care. Most are teething. Caring for the next generation is a pack duty, and the adults are busy. It falls to us. This new litter… they have the eyes of hunters. They'll run with us someday.—
—Hunters are worse. And tomorrow is the procession. Our adulthood. I don't want to spend it babysitting.— Nuka's defiance was fading into sullenness.
—The Ancientsage won't exclude you. And pups are easy. A big bone to gnaw, and they're entertained for hours. Let's just finish this quickly so we can prepare.— Guarin's logic was sound. Nuka nodded, took his place.
—We're losing light! Maya, full pull!— Siarq commanded.
—Aye!— Maya's form began to shift. Fur, gray and white, rippled over her skin. She grew, her frame broadening, a snout elongating, claws and fearsome teeth emerging. In moments, a powerful, humanoid wolf stood where the girl had been. She gripped the carcass from behind and pulled, her immense strength making the drag effortless for the others.
They returned to a hive of activity. As they began butchering the kill, Kadesh found them, his hair now streaked with silver.
—You five. The Ancientsage wants you. Before the procession.— He handed each a necklace of carved bone. They put them on, the weight feeling suddenly significant, and made their way to the great tent at the village's edge.
Inside, darkness was held at bay by eight torches in a circle. The Ancientsage stood at the center.
—Adults. Is that what you wish to be?— Her voice was flat, unimpressed. —Ha. Pups crave a title they cannot comprehend. You hide behind masks of bravado and pride. I do not hand out titles. I assign burdens. Roles that will define your entire lives. Are you ready for that weight?— The air grew thick, hard to breathe.
—Do you even know where your gifts come from? The source of your peculiarities?— Her shadow on the tent wall began to writhe, stretching, forming the unmistakable shape of great, branching antlers.
A faint tremor passed through the ground. The torches flared, their light turning a piercing, liquid silver.
—I can show you. But I do not know if you are prepared. Or if you truly desire it… Do you?—
—Of course, Ancientsag— The words died in their throats.
She pulled her cloak around herself, vanishing into its folds.
—As hunters, you learned your first lessons. They are the foundation of any life.— The cloak began to move, not with her, but of itself. It bulged, distorted, and from its depths, two long, blackened arms of gnarled wood slammed into the earthen floor.
The youths broke into a cold sweat.
—Guarin… have you ever…?— Nuka whispered, trembling.
—No. But I feel… I've seen this from the other side.— Guarin's own fear was a cold stone in his gut.
—The 'other side'? This is an ancestral presence. It could unmake us. Is this… her true form?— The torches burned brighter as the darkness deepened around them.
—You were born in times of plenty. Sheltered. I lived in a different Reenster. Its wonders do not erase its cruelty.— The cloak fell away, or was absorbed.
The being that stood there was of wood and shadow. The Ancientsage's mask was its face, but above it rose a stag's mighty antlers of twisted root and branch. Its eyes were pools of molten silver. Every movement was the groan of ancient timber.
—You will be first.— It was her voice, but deeper, resonating in their bones. It was before the first youth in an instant, its wooden hands engulfing his head.
A searing light bled through its fingers. The youth screamed, a raw, ragged sound, his body convulsing as he tried to break free. The creature held fast. Then, silence. The youth slumped to the ground, unconscious, the silver light painting his still form.
—Too much innocence.— The creature moved to the next, and the next, each falling into a silent heap after their ordeal. Then it came to Maya.
She stared up into its silver eyes, jaw set. As its hands closed around her head, her form flickered—girl to wolf and back—a battle for control fought in the span of a breath. She held. The mask's light died. The creature released her. She collapsed, panting, onto the ground, a single lock of her hair now a deep, vivid blue.
—Strong. Determined. Persistent. You are ready, child.— A touch to her head, almost gentle. It moved to Siarq.
He endured in rigid silence, fists clenched so tight his own claws drew blood from his palms. Steam rose from his skin. Just as his strength seemed to fail, it was over. The central lock of his mane, too, turned blue.
—A keen mind. Excellent control. Well done, Siarq.—
Then it stood before Guarin.
—I prepared something special for you. Are you ready?—
—Yes, Grandmother.— He drove his dagger into the earth, an anchor, and met the gaze of the silver eyes.
Its hands enclosed him. Darkness. Then, the mask above began to peel back, revealing a lupine muzzle of living wood. The jaws opened wide, a gateway not to a throat, but to a landscape bathed in moonlight.
He was small, cradled in the arms of a woman whose face was light itself.
—She's beautiful. And by those little fangs, this one will be a handful. My precious girl.— The woman's voice was love incarnate. As she drew near, the world dissolved.
He was in the tribe, but not his own. A child, ignored by towering adults. He wandered to a cliff's edge, staring into an endless sea of clouds. The same woman snatched him back by the scruff.
—No place for pups. Especially ones so small.—
Another flash. Older now, packing a travel-skin in a tent. The woman entered.
—You're certain, daughter?— Fear trembled in her voice.
—I must go, Mother. You saw. I need this journey. I need more power to control this.—
—If power brought control, you'd be the steadiest soul in three generations.— The woman hugged her from behind, a touch of heartbreaking tenderness.
—I will only know by living.— The embrace was returned. She turned to the tent flap, opened it—
—and was in a raucous tavern, tankard in hand, laughing with faceless comrades. At the back, a tall woman watched her, swirling a drink. They spoke soundless words. A blink—now they were back-to-back in a brawl, the tavern descending on them.
—You want me? COME AND GET ME!— A headlock here, an arm twisted there. Another blink.
Lying in a boat under a star-speckled sky. The woman beside her, wearing only a fur coat, lighting a long pipe.
—These past months… magic, yes?—
—I hope it never ends. I've only collected nine new scars since leaving home.—
—That's what you get for adopting other people's fights. For picking battles with every fool you meet.— She passed the pipe, then lay her head on Guarin's chest.
—You and the others are no pacifists. And… how does one smoke this?— She examined the pipe.
The woman placed it between her lips. —Just inhale. The rest… follows.— She did. The world softened at the edges, blurred.
A grimy alley. A man approached, lighting a straw cigarette.
—My sources confirm it. The information was true. She will awaken soon. Every nation in the Impero Valley is mobilizing. This could be the greatest war this world has witnessed. They've asked for your group's support. They estimate four months of conflict.—
—They have it. Those filthy pigs think their blood is purer. I'll show them what a real fight looks like.— The woman from the boat appeared at her side, gripping her arm.
—Are you sure? This war… it smells wrong. Too many players. The gods don't ignore conflicts of this scale. If they step in… it won't be a war. It will be an apocalypse. Please. This isn't prudent.—
—And leave our allies to the slaughter?— Guarin's voice was hard.
—This war isn't yours!— The woman's composure broke into tears.
—It wasn't the children's either. Or the elders they butchered. This war isn't mine. It's ours. We're too strong to look away. It's our duty.— She pulled the weeping woman into a fierce embrace. —I won't die here. I refuse to die without my name in the histories.—
A gas main ruptured, swallowing the alley in vapor.
---
She was falling. Then mud. The stench of blood and ozone. She pushed herself up.
The sky was a weeping wound of red. The field was a charnel house. Mortals and creatures of nightmare clashed in a din of metal and screams. She drew her spear and charged.
A squad of enemy warriors blocked her path.
—MOVE!— Her foot slammed down. From the mud, a thicket of wooden lances erupted, impaling the group. The spears retracted. She slammed her own spear's butt into the earth. A massive pillar of hardened wood shot from the ground, catapulting her into the air. She landed, driving her weapon through the chest of a commanding officer.
A prickle of wrongness. One of the "soldiers" nearby stood too still, its posture alien.
—WATCH OUT! TRANSFORMAZA!—
The soldier's form ruptured. Cloth and flesh tore as something massive and black expanded—a giant salamander. It exhaled, and a yellowish gas spewed forth. Soldiers caught in the cloud shrieked as their skin bubbled and sloughed away.
The gas spread, a killing fog. Guarin's skin transformed, taking on the rough, resilient bark of ancient wood. She charged through the miasma, spear aimed at the creature's eye.
A whip-fast tongue, sticky and strong, snared her wrist.
—A High Lupine Guari! A live one! I've never been this close!— The voice was a sibilant, gleeful hiss from the salamander's maw.
—You have no idea what you're involved in, little girl. And who are you calling a mere transformaza?— It chuckled, a wet, rattling sound.
—SILENCE!— Her free hand held a dagger. She plunged it into the muscular tongue. The blade snapped against its hide.
—This war is about more than kings and borders. It has drawn… hungrier eyes.— As it spoke, its body shifted. It grew larger, two more pairs of limbs sprouting from its torso. Wings, leathery and vast, unfurled from its back. A second pair of eyes opened, glowing with vicious intelligence. Guarin's blood ran cold.
—I'm merely the first divine-grade to arrive. The first to hear the fun had started. The demigods and full gods… they'll be here any mom— The ground heaved.
—No need to wait. They're here.— On every horizon, silhouettes appeared. They were all different, all monstrous, all radiating power that made the air hum. They were immense.
Guarin's breath froze in her lungs.
—What's wrong, puppy? Never seen a real God before? HAHAHAHA!— The salamander-demon took flight, its tongue still holding her aloft like a grisly trophy. —We have the best seats! Right in the center! The divine scales will be rebalanced today! So much death! HAHAHA!—
A beam of pure, incinerating light lanced across the battlefield, vaporizing everything in its path, leaving a glassy trench in the earth.
—What sorcery is this? They said nothing of— A soldier's plea was cut off as he and his entire unit simply… floated into the air.
Behind them, a silhouette resolved. A giant with a disproportionately large head. Spiral-pupiled eyes glowed with detached curiosity. Blond hair, not hair but prehensile tendrils, writhed from its scalp. One pointed at a group of soldiers.
—Break.—
Necks snapped in a unified, sickening crunch. The tendrils pointed elsewhere.
—Suffer.—
The new targets seized, eyes rolling white. Some convulsed. Others drew their own blades to end the agony. The tendrils snaked toward a general, their tips brushing his forehead. A flash. The man went slack, drooling, his mind emptied. His men dropped, dead, to the mud.
Elsewhere, a scaled behemoth with an eel's tail carved through ranks with a gargantuan trident. It spotted the first god and raised its weapon in challenge.
—Insolent child. I will break you and leave your husk to rot in the abyssal trenches.— The first god's hair-tendrils bristled, levitating her form.
—We shall see, crone!— The aquatic god surged forward—and was frozen in mid-air, caught in an invisible vise. The first god made a gentle squeezing motion. The attacker imploded into a sphere of bloody mist.
A new horror: an angelic form of countless eyes and arms rose. The corpses at its feet levitated, morphing into floating spheres of flesh and staring eyes, which then rained searing beams upon the living.
In the maelstrom, Guarin saw her—Helena. The name came unbidden. How did she know it?
Helena was in a shell crater, tending to a wounded, sobbing child.
—Woo-hoo! She found one of the best ones! How deliciously mortal!— the salamander crowed.
—It's alright… what did they do to you?— Helena cradled the child.
—G-go… 'way…— it whimpered.
—What? What did you say?— She leaned closer.
—Get… OUT! He uses my body… for a HOUSE!— The child's tear hit the mud.
Helena's own shadow detatched. It became a long, emaciated arm of pure gloom, claws of condensed malice, cracks weeping black smoke. It seized her head and squeezed.
—LET GO! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!— Her screams were the sound of breaking bone and breaking spirit.
—HELENA! NO! LET ME GO TO HER!— Guarin howled, tears of rage and helplessness streaming down her face.
—I'm saving us both. She found the only God who didn't come for his people, or to stop the war. He came for the sport.— The salamander's glee was obscene.
—WHAT GOD DOES THIS?!—
—The troublesome kind. The kind condemned to live through hosts. That hand… is the hand of Nazan. The God of All Malignance. And she is already dead.—
Helena's shadow became liquid, pulling her down. She was sinking.
—HELP! IARIM, HELP ME!—
The name was a lightning strike to Guarin's soul. Iarim. My grandmother's name.
Helena was gone, swallowed by the darkness she cast.
Guarin's terror crystallized into a white-hot fury. A roar tore from her throat, not human, not wolf—something primordial. Her body began to change, her shadow stretching and warping, forming the specter of great, branching antlers.
She turned her rage on the salamander, which formed one limb into a spear-like stinger and thrust.
Guarin was nowhere. A formless grey void.
—A guest? Intruding upon the cycle? How… marvelous.— The voice was the void itself. Reality trembled. A being, semi-humanoid and vast beyond comprehension, manifested. Its face was a single, pulsing amethyst jewel. —I have waited so long to go home. Reenster is dull without… proper Destruction.—
An explosion of non-light. Silence.
Guarin came to on the floor of the tent, drenched in cold sweat and tears, gasping for air.
—Was it… real? Did it happen?—
—It was real. Long ago. Now, it is just history.— The Ancientsage's voice was heavy with that history. She turned to attend to Nuka.
Guarin scrambled to his feet and bolted outside. Kadesh moved to stop him but halted at a look from the Elder.
—Let him run. He needs to breathe. Find him after.—
Kadesh nodded and followed the trail of frantic footprints in the snow. He found Guarin slumped against a boulder at the village's edge, trembling violently.
He sat beside him, saying nothing, just putting a solid arm around his shoulders.
—Breathe, Guarin. In. Out. With me. I'm here. You can carry this.—
—My turn was hard too. What she shows you… it's a warning from the past. A lesson, not a sentence. It can't hurt you unless you let it.— Slowly, the tremors subsided. Guarin leaned his head against Kadesh, exhaustion replacing panic.
—I thought I knew things… Now I see I know nothing. It's… terrifying.—
—Your father made me feel that way once. It is the first step to true strength—accepting how much is beyond us. What did she show you?—
—I can't… grasp it. Like I lived a piece of someone else's life. I feel like I've lost something… something vital. And I don't even know what it was.—
—And that feeling… what does it tell you to do?—
—It tells me I'm a fool. A naïve child playing at being ready.—
—And will you listen to that feeling? Or will you answer it?— Kadesh's question was a blade, cutting to the core.
Guarin was silent for a long time. Then he wiped his face with his sleeve, a new hardness in his eyes.
—I have to go down the mountain. I have to see Reenster. I'll never find what I'm missing if I stay. This journey… it's mine to take. With those I choose to walk with. I leave tonight. Don't try to stop me.—
Kadesh studied him, then sighed, a sound of reluctant acceptance. —Then we pack. You leave at first light. No more arguments. Agreed?—
—Agreed.—
Neither knew the next time they would stand this close would be eleven long years later.
As the tribe settled into sleep, the two of them stood at the border of the known world, Kadesh checking the straps on Guarin's pack.
—Forgot anything?—
—I haven't. You might have.— A ghost of Guarin's old smirk returned.
Kadesh grabbed him in a playful headlock. —You little tick. Seems like yesterday you were teething on my boots.—
—Still your only way of showing love?— Guarin wheezed, laughing.
—Next time, I let the terrorvora have you for being so cheeky.— Kadesh released him, a smile touching his own eyes.
—You know I love you. You're my favorite grumpy old rock.—
—OLD?— Kadesh roared in mock outrage, then froze, patting his belt. His second dagger was gone.
Guarin was already ten paces away, the stolen blade glinting in his belt. —THANKS FOR THE SPARE!—
—YOU LITTLE PEST!— Kadesh's shout chased him, laughter finally breaking through. Guarin's answering laugh echoed back as he vanished into the pre-dawn grey.
He traveled for three days, guided by the mountain's brutal logic, until he reached a place where the path ended at a sheer cliff. Three massive stones stood in a rough circle.
—The Three Stones? This can't be…—
The thrum of great wings filled the air. Guarin dove behind a boulder as a colossal bird of smoke and shadow landed. A Bearded Vulture, but its body was shifting vapor, and at its core gleamed a self-animated skeleton. End. One of the Cyclical Birds. Their tribe and these gods were sworn enemies.
End stalked, sniffing the air. Guarin held his breath. It hopped onto the very stone he hid behind, talons scraping rock.
He ran.
End saw. It dove, silent and deadly fast. Talons like curved swords reached for him.
A net of living, thorny wood shot from the ground, tangling the skeletal beast. It shrieked, dissipating part of its form to break free. A silver arrow the size of a tree trunk slammed into it, pinning it to the stone.
The earth shook. From the cliff above, She came.
The Great Mother. In her full, terrifying glory. A towering fusion of wolf and myth, her fur marked with glowing lunar tattoos. She leaped, a force of nature, her jaws closing on End's skull with a crack that echoed between the mountains. The stone itself shattered.
From the debris, she rose, the bird-god's head in her maw. Then, a comet of fire and rage struck her from above—Middle, the second bird, a falcon of living magma. Behind it, Beginning, a stork of blinding light, descended. End's bones reassembled.
The three avian gods surrounded her. She moved like a tempest—bow singing, fangs flashing. She caught Beginning, bit deep into End's neck, but Middle seared her flank. The kick she landed sent the fire-bird tumbling toward Guarin's hiding place.
He scrambled back, and his eyes met another's. A hooded figure, watching from a distant ridge. It made a sharp, throwing motion.
A pillar of knotted wood erupted from the ground at Guarin's feet, not to harm, but to push. He was hurled backwards, over the cliff's edge.
—Damn y—!— The rest was stolen by the wind as an apocalyptic explosion of silver fire and divine rage consumed the cliff top above him.
He was falling. The world was a blur of cloud and rushing wind. Then, through the mist, he saw it: a forest of impossible, mirror-bright flowers glowing amidst a deep winter forest. The Snowblooms.
He twisted in the air, aiming for the largest bloom. Just before impact, he spread his limbs to slow his descent. He crashed through thick, crystalline petals, the world a kaleidoscope of refracted light. Drawing his daggers, he drove them into the massive stem, the friction slowing him as he slid down the vine coiled around a titanic tree.
Still too high. The snow… it has to be the snow. He remembered his training. The core of his being. He let go.
Tumbling through the air, he focused not on survival, but on purpose. On the truth the ritual had planted in his soul.
—I want my voice to reach further than any other! To touch the heart of this world itself!—
A few meters from the frozen ground, he unleashed it. A howl. Not of fear, but of claiming. The soundwave rippled the air, cushioning his fall just enough.
He hit the deep snow with a whump, not a crunch. For a moment, he just lay there, stunned. Then, laughter—wild, relieved, triumphant—burst from him.
—I DID IT!—
The euphoria was short-lived. He woke later, shivering violently, stomach gnawing itself empty. His supplies were frozen solid.
—Cold… colder than the heights…— He forced himself up. A scent on the wind. Prey.
He tracked it, bow in hand, to a clearing. A magnificent beast with spiral horns and a nose like blue ice was browsing on young Snowbloom leaves. He nocked an arrow, aiming for its eye. His focus narrowed to the kill.
Then he saw it. A single, odd flower among the others. Five petals upright, not splayed. Brighter. Almost… waiting.
His finger tightened on the string.
The strange flower moved. A blur, and a deep gash opened on the creature's jaw. It bellowed in agony. Startled, Guarin loosed his arrow. It struck high on the brow. The beast reared, stunned and bleeding.
Something surged from the snow beneath it. A figure. A fist connected with the creature's head with a sound like a splitting log. The massive animal was lifted off its feet and slammed into a tree trunk. The figure was on it in an instant, a flurry of brutal, precise blows ending with a savage twist. Silence.
The figure stood on the carcass, pulled out Guarin's arrow, and studied it. Then its gaze lifted, scanning. It found Guarin's tree. Guarin tried to melt away, but a sound above made him look up.
The figure was there, sitting casually on a branch. A young man, maybe his age, in a fur coat stained with the beast's blood. And a tail… whose tip was a perfect replica of the strange, predatory flower.
—You're a Lupine. Never seen one in the flesh. But the look is unmistakable.— His voice was calm, almost friendly.
—W-what are you?— Guarin stammered, stepping back.
The boy dropped lightly in front of him, no threat in his posture. —Apologies for the drama. Name's Nanoq. Welcome to the Eternal Tundra. Last stop before the world ends at the southern edge.— He grinned, extending a bloodied hand.
After a heartbeat, Guarin took it. —Guarin.—
In that moment, under a foreign sky, neither knew this meeting was the first thread of a tapestry that would span nations, challenge gods, and become legend. This was more than the start of a friendship or a brotherhood. It was the first step of a story that would weave itself into the very history of peoples, the saga of a world.
It was the beginning of their story.
The story of Reenster.
To be continued…