After returning to the cave with his hunt, Asher carefully arranged a small circle of stones and placed dry branches and leaves within it. Drawing on his newly acquired knowledge, he etched a small fire rune in the dirt beside the circle, channeling just enough essence to ignite the kindling without depleting his still-recovering core.
The flames caught quickly, and soon a cheerful fire was crackling in the makeshift hearth. Asher placed strips of deer meat on flat stones at the edge of the flames, watching as they began to sizzle and cook.
The scent of roasting meat filled the small cave, reminding Asher just how hungry he was. It had been nearly a full day since his escape, and much longer since he'd had anything resembling a proper meal. His mouth watered as he turned the meat carefully to ensure it cooked evenly.
While he tended to the cooking, Ruvia hovered nearby, her crimson light pulsing with curiosity. So what's the plan now that you escaped that gloomy place? she asked.
Hearing that question, Asher fell into deep thought. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the cave walls as he considered their situation.
"I don't know really," he admitted finally. "I was too focused on escaping, and I didn't think this through." He turned another strip of meat, watching the fat drip into the flames. "All I knew was that I couldn't stay there any longer."
He frowned, calling up fragmented memories of maps he'd glimpsed during his days as a slave being thrown from one master to another. "Well, I don't want to go back to the Thornehart Kingdom," he said decisively. "And from the brief glimpse of the map I saw in the past, if we head east of the deep forest and cross the small mountain range, we can enter the Republic."
So, we are going blind off of your memories? Ruvia's tone wasn't accusatory, merely curious.
"Do we have any other choice?" Asher countered. He pulled a piece of meat from the fire, testing its doneness before biting into it. The flavor was gamey and strong, but to his hungry palate, it was the finest meal he'd ever tasted. "Besides," he added between bites, "anywhere is better than going back."
I suppose you're right, Ruvia conceded. And I've never heard of this Republic before. Or at least, I don't think I have. My memories of previous manifestations are... hazy.
"Previous manifestations?" Asher asked, reaching for another piece of meat. "You mean you've had other contracts before?"
Perhaps, the crimson orb bobbed noncommittally. Sprin essence is eternal, but our awareness in the physical world... comes and goes. When we form a new contract, we are essentially born anew, though echoes of past knowledge remain.
Asher considered this as he ate. "So you might have existed before, but you don't really remember it?"
Something like that, Ruvia replied. I know some things about the world, Sprin, and Weaving—but I don't remember how I know them. It's like... like knowing how to walk without remembering learning to walk.
"That's fascinating," Asher said genuinely. "And a little sad, in a way."
Why sad? Ruvia's light dimmed slightly.
"Because you lose parts of yourself each time," he explained. "Your experiences, your connections. They fade away."
But new ones are formed, she countered, brightening again. Like our bond. Besides, impermanence is the nature of all things.
They continued talking as the afternoon wore on, discussing possible routes through the mountains and what they might find in the Republic. Asher knew little about the neighboring nation beyond rumors and snippets of conversation he'd overheard during his days as a slave. The Republic was said much more advanced than the Thornehart Kingdom, and Asher had experienced this firsthand as a shield against their guns.
"Maybe I could find a proper teacher there," Asher mused, poking at the fire with a stick. "Someone who could help me understand these powers without, you know, accidentally killing myself."
That would be wise, Ruvia agreed. Though I can help with some aspects, Sprin knowledge of human Weaving is limited. We experience essence differently than you do.
As they talked, the sun gradually sank lower in the sky, its light filtering through the cave entrance at an increasingly shallow angle. Shadows lengthened across the forest floor outside, and the cheerful birdsong of midday gave way to the deeper, more mysterious sounds of approaching evening.
Asher was just explaining what little he knew about the Republic's government when Ruvia suddenly went silent. Her crimson light pulsed once, sharply, and she darted toward the cave entrance.
Something's coming, she warned, her mental voice tense.
Immediately alert, Asher scrambled to his feet, abandoning the remains of his meal. "What is it?" he whispered, moving to join her at the entrance.
Hostile entities, Ruvia replied. Several of them, approaching fast.
Peering out into the gathering twilight, Asher could see nothing amiss among the trees. But he trusted Ruvia's senses, extending his hand in preparation to form a weapon.
"How many?" he asked quietly.
Three... no, four. Large predators. Not human.
As if in confirmation of her words, a long, haunting howl rose from the forest, followed by answering calls from different directions. The sound sent a chill down Asher's spine—it was too deep, too resonant to come from ordinary wolves.
"We're surrounded," Asher realized, feeling his pulse quicken. He focused on his connection with Ruvia, and the crimson spear materialized in his grasp. "Let's get away from the cave—we'll be trapped in here."
Stepping outside, Asher scanned the darkening forest. The trees cast long shadows now, perfect hiding places for predators. He strained his eyes, trying to spot movement in the undergrowth.
Then, without warning, three large shapes burst from the bushes nearby. They leapt into the small clearing before the cave, surrounding Asher in a loose semicircle. In the fading light, he could make out their forms clearly enough—wolves, but unlike any he had seen before.
They were massive, their shoulders reaching nearly to his chest. Their fur was a deep slate gray that seemed to shimmer with an internal energy, and their eyes glowed an unnatural electric blue. Most disturbingly, small arcs of what looked like lightning occasionally crackled between the bristling hairs along their spines.
The largest of the three, presumably the pack leader, took a step forward, its gaze fixed not on Asher but on the remains of the deer meat still cooking by the fire. It lowered its head and emitted a growl that seemed to vibrate the very air.
"Fuck, they got attracted by the smell of meat," cursed Asher, tightening his grip on the spear.
They are not normal animals, Ruvia's voice was urgent in his mind. They're tempest wolves!
"What the hell are tempest wolves?" Asher hissed, not taking his eyes off the creatures.
Essence-touched predators. They draw power from storms and lightning. This is going to be dangerous—we should look for a chance to run.
As if sensing their discussion, the lead wolf lunged forward, jaws snapping. Asher barely managed to bring his spear around in time, catching the beast in the shoulder rather than the chest as he'd intended. The crimson weapon bit deep, drawing a spray of dark blood, but the wolf seemed barely fazed. It backed up a step, snarling, the wound already crackling with tiny lightning arcs that seemed to be cauterizing the injury.
"They heal?" Asher gasped, retreating a step.
Their essence accelerates healing, Ruvia confirmed. A minor wound won't stop them.
The other two wolves began to circle, looking for an opening. Asher pivoted, trying to keep all three in view, but it was a losing proposition. If they attacked from multiple directions at once, he'd have no chance.
"Any ideas?" he asked, desperation edging into his voice.
Your core—is it recovered enough for Weaving?
Asher checked his internal reserves. The essence core within his chest had replenished somewhat during their rest, perhaps to two-thirds of its capacity. "Maybe. What do you have in mind?"
Fire. Tempest wolves fear fire—it's antithetical to their storm essence.
The lead wolf lunged again, and Asher jabbed with the spear, catching it in the muzzle. It yelped, a sound like thunder in miniature, and backed away shaking its head.
"I don't have anything to draw a rune on," Asher said, swinging the spear in a wide arc to keep the other wolves at bay.
Use what you have, Ruvia urged.
A desperate idea struck Asher. Without taking his eyes off the wolves, he used his free hand to pull up his sleeve, exposing his forearm. The smallest wolf darted in from his right, teeth snapping at his leg. He spun and slashed with the spear, scoring a glancing blow that opened a shallow cut along the wolf's flank.
Taking advantage of the momentary reprieve, Asher quickly used his fingernail to scratch the fire rune into his own skin, cutting deep enough to draw blood. The sensation was painful, but his fear overrode the discomfort.