Bright explosion of magic...

Uruk woke from a gloomy daze.

Lifting his head, the former great shaman of the Akhugai tribe shifted his red-eyed gaze from the dying embers of his camping fire and tried to feel the direction, a slight frown settling on his features. The feel of the magic had been familiar and at the same time nothing he had ever met before in his own lifetime.

The wave of energy meanwhile reduced, collapsing to a tiny fading star, which remained pulsing in and out in his mind sight.

First initiation, perhaps?

A new magical creature had just tried to use its power for the first time and likely too soon in its life, judging by the chaotic pattern of unfocused energy that simply flooded uselessly into space. The flash of fear and pain also spoke that this happened because the unknown creature encountered life-stressing trouble. Sometimes that's what happened to induce power to wake too early.

This wasn't his affair...

Uruk silently scoffed with deep weariness that still held him in its grip. Countless creatures every day lived and died, some young, some old. Soon, it would happen to him, too – an unwanted outcast, exiled to spend the last days of his life alone. Days that could turn into years, if he would make an effort.

He didn't want to.

Again, the shaman's thoughts slipped into the former, pervasive, downcast mood. The little white star continued to burn in the distance, now barely perceptible, but persistent. The little creature was not giving up, yet.

The embers in the fire continued to go out one by one.

He needed to gather more rukvai roots for his fire if he didn't wish to spend another night in miserable discomfort. An easy task, but made difficult by this all pervasive glum apathy. He simply didn't care enough. Why should it matter? All his long years of service certainly did not matter to anyone in his tribe, even his friend's adopted son, his blood-grandson, the great warrior Phelin.

Perhaps... only young Cava did not wish to see him gone – his beloved adopted great-granddaughter borne of the woman to whom he would have given his heart if he had not been forced to become the head shaman after his mentor's passing. Ulna was now long gone, but he could yet find her features in this child of her lineage and sometimes even imagined that she had been a child of his heart. The girl's face bore a sad look when she had been forced to turn her face away when the whole tribe had gathered to send him on his last journey.

She would surely grieve. So might the other mothers of the tribe, who remembered his healing for their children. Everyone else, those mighty warriors, made their choice to listen to their new leader, Tanv. All of them turned away as if he didn't exist. He was not yet gone when all of them ceased to see him, now a mere shadow in their memory, a ghost.

Ungrateful, self-conceited cubs! He had seen them born, before their eyes had opened, little more than mewling weaklings with scales soft like the skin of timid, grass-eating givid, whom their tribe hunted for food in these forsaken lands.

The small white star continued to flicker, definitely getting weaker, distracting.

Well, he needed to get up, anyway…

The former shaman reached to his walking staff and stood, feeling the old bones crack in small pops after sitting motionless for hours. Narrowing his eyes, Uruk focused his senses and searched.

There…

He might as well see what this creature was, whose strange magic he perceived burning so strong.

Setting off at an unhurried pace in the direction the little being's newly awakened power continued to pour out and call, Uruk couldn't help some curiosity rising within despite himself.

Distinctly, he sensed echoes of pain and bewildered daze, which blared to anyone around of the being's weakened state. The former shaman winced slightly. Even the newly born givid would not have done such, quietly hiding to avoid attracting predators, even if they did feel pain. This open mental cry of distress felt alien and Uruk wondered what type of being this might be to lack such essential instincts of survival. Perhaps, it was not from these lands at all?

At times, creatures from other lands would get stranded here, though it was very rare. It was easier for them to end up in Overworld, which was a vast, solid plane that hovered in the midst of all creation. These lands fell far, far below, out of the way of preferred places of habitation of most beings and even monsters.

This creature won't survive long if it did not have such innate instincts. If Uruk wished to see what it was, he should speed up, or he would come only to see bloodied shreds as other predators responded to its alluring call for help.

Rising curiosity was enough to dispel the old shaman's despondent mood.

A deep breath and familiar sense of power flooded to his mild call, infusing his body and restoring old strength. Hunched shoulders straightened and tail lashed with irritation. Focusing on his old, well-practiced skill, Uruk dove into the purple shade, which made the outside world appear dim and blurry.

Path of Dreams.

Here, the lonely little white flame burned even brighter, steady and strong.

Whatever creature this was, if it managed to live, would certainly possess strong magic. Powerful even. He did not recall feeling anything like this before, except the time when he had been just a cub, himself, and his people were leaving the dark, bleak lands where they lived before.

On the way to a portal, which would take them all out of the place which was no longer safe, young Akhugai felt something similar, though that awakened power raged with violence and hues of purple. His teacher and mentor had laid his clawed, heavy hand upon the young mind-walker's shoulder and sent the image of a dark egg upon a pedestal of purple and black stone, where cracks were spreading across its otherwise indestructible surface as the great Protector of this place had returned to life after his momentous defeat at the hands of intruding humans.

Now, just like then, the newborn magic blazed with same strength, only fading much more quickly. Who could this alien being be? The feel of its magic continued to shine, although even weaker now. Still, it was settling into a more defined pattern, which meant that it was a permanent asset, not a brief aberration of power that Uruk on occasion had seen before. It continued to burn, silver and clear, like the clouds of celestial fire that sometimes shone far above in the heavens above the distant, floating islands masked by clouds.

Celestial… Could this being be one of the winged creatures from there?

Uruk knew little of them, since his people preferred to stay out of other sentients' ways. Here, wandering in the inhospitable and bare lands, they could live a life that was harsh, but safe from the numerous conflicts and wars that seemed to be the norm in more populated lands.

This might explain the creature's magic. Some celestials held truly amazing power in their hands and in the days of old, myths spoke that it had been their ancient rulers who had broken away parts of the Land and raised it up to the clouds to hover there ever since, defying laws as powerful magic kept the islands afloat amid waterfalls that turned to clouds of mist – beautiful lands and pristine, full of crystal white stone that rang whenever celestials sang their songs – which was also their way of maintaining magic, ancient rituals of ancient words that they themselves no longer understood, nor anyone else.

If this being was one of them, then perhaps Uruk should not approach it directly. Others of its kind would almost certainly search for it, honing on the cry of their lost hatchling to find where it fell. They would not abandon one of their younglings, not giving up the search until they either found it alive or found its remains, to retrieve a pearl of magic it bore. To restore its spark back to the magic that gave the youngling life was part of their rituals. He wouldn't interfere, least their attention fell on him and then his people. Beautiful as they were, those celestial beings were quite arrogant and vengeful, like most higher monsters.

A series of strong leaps carried the shaman across the rocky plains, occasionally phasing through dark dim splotches of stone pillars that rose along the way. Not quite reaching the source of beckoning light star, Uruk emerged from the Path and called to the Shadows to hide his form as he cautiously surveyed his surroundings.

Before him opened the site of some old construction. Cobble-stone street looked quiet, with thick tufts of purple grass breaking through between the crumbling stones. Creeping roots of inguana bushes covered several buildings, long abandoned. In the midst of the court yard towered a square structure, which the shaman recognized as an ancient portal. He had seen many such silent structures scattered across old ruins, where nothing else but a few rocks remained. This place seemed more recent and judging by the rough shape of square buildings, likely served as a human outpost a few hundred years back. Although Uruk had never seen their cities before with his own eyes, he had many times seen other places and people in his seeing Dreams and his mentor had told him much.

The flowering white thistles gleamed bright next to poisonous red berries of the Naino plant, with some scattered on the ground. Sweet scent of their spilled juice wafted across the air, inviting creatures to enjoy the overripe fruit – so delectable to senses and yet deadly, its poison capable of slowly dissolving flesh so the new young plant could find nourishment as it grew where the bearer of its seeds fell. Every season, Uruk had at least someone from his tribe come to him for treatment as even the tough stomachs of Akhugai could not tolerate the unpleasant effects. Yet, some young and not so young fools could not seem to learn their lesson, until Uruk refused to treat them right away, allowing the cramping to last for several long hours as a lesson.

Scoffing slightly at the memory, the former shaman eyed the branches, noting that right before the now quiet gate's opening, none remained. The recent opening had destroyed them, leaving an obvious sign that this portal was functional and recently used.

Well, that explained the appearance of the creature.

The sudden scampering, accompanied by growls and whining, attracted the shaman's attention next. Several scrawny, yet wiry forms of ridwa were circling around the entrance to one of the dilapidated buildings. Scavengers, similar to dogs from the Overworld but with tough, red hide, seemed to survive well in these lands, were here already. These pests fed upon the dying and the dead, occasionally even going after cubs, which is why Uruk disliked these creatures.

Sniffing, he became aware of the iron scent of blood. Shifting to his Sight, he saw a faint trail of it leading from the portal to the collapsed entrance of the building, where the creatures sniped at each other. One of them limped as it snarled at its fellows, circling around it with hungry looks, their perception of their former den mate shifting to prey. The desert dog was still strong, yet, and a few warning bites of those that tried to test it, led the others to switch their attention to the bodies of more of their kind, which showed beneath the crushed rocks. Growling, they fell upon one and did their best to drag it out, tearing into the flesh.

Harsh instincts, but it was what allowed them to survive well in this realm.

There was no one else.

Uruk stepped out of hiding and now unhurriedly walked toward the building, his staff striking stone. Somewhere there, hidden within, came the pulsing white magic that brought him here, though he no longer felt the fear and pain that accompanied it. Drops of blood led there, too, suffused by the same touch of power, so Uruk knew they belonged to the same creature.

The ridwa snarled at the shaman's approach and he released his aura, pressing it against them, until they tucked their tails between their legs and ran out of sight, abandoning their fellow's torn carcass to the side. Uruk ignored them, losing further interest. Even in far greater number, they would not be a danger to one such as he, and they would not dare to attack, perceiving it as well.

Reaching the crumbled entrance to the building, Uruk searched it, his eyes holding on several more red forms buried beneath the rocks. Unmistakably, this is the flare of magic happened, causing part of the building to collapse. Briefly, the shaman even sensed the small being's terror as it fled from the portal where it had been waiting for hours, hoping for help, until the ridwa attacked. They injured it and then chased it here, where the being sought to find shelter. They swarmed it, intent on tearing it apart. That's when its sleeping magic must have finally burst awake, casting them away and collapsing the building upon them.

It then crawled up the stairs to one of the empty rooms, where it miserably hovered and waited, shaking in pain and crying, until it succumbed to exhaustion. Looking up, Uruk soundlessly breathed, picking up on the sound of faltering, fast little heart-beat. Definitely a cub, that much the residual memory he just perceived told him. But of what kind?

A careful search around the blocked entrance revealed no other paths in. Lifting his face up, the old shaman considered the upper walls and found a breach, where entire part of a room now lay open to view along with caved in roof, the wooden planks there sticking up like broken ribs out of the rubble, brittle and dry, yet still preserved due to lack of moisture.

It was already late noon. Very soon, other predators would come. Hiding in that broken down building would not deter those of them who could fly, even if the creature lived that long. The struggling heart-beat once again called to Uruk's attention.

Overworld creatures were weak, even those with magic. Now, Uruk was almost certain that this being was one of such, because of the feel of air that still lingered around the recently open ancient portal. The lush and green lands, plentiful with water and life, did not dispose creatures to develop bodies that would allow them to survive in hostile lands like these, which Uruk's people now considered their home. He had to hurry if he wished to learn what it was. Some creatures of magic from Overworld simply vanished, their bodies falling apart into fading particles. They were also rare, since the humans, the annoying pests like ridwa, quickly populated and spread across all lands where they managed to get a foothold, usually hunting down all magic creatures to near extinction. Possessing no magic themselves, they relied to ingredients of those who did carry magic, to create their artifacts and potions. Clever and inventive, but also cruel and treacherous, they could be found anywhere and Uruk had even seen them wandering in small teams across these lands, though they doubtlessly found nothing useful here and so lost their attention.

His eyes focusing on the breach in the stone above, the old shaman once again called to the power and allowed it to suffuse his muscles. A small effort, and his agile form sprung several heights up, to perch upon the remnants of the stone wall. Sharp, red eyes swiftly swept across the visible room, finding it empty except for a pile of bleached bones gathered in the corner when one of the predatorial flyers, maybe a mangi, at some point made this place it's nest.

The injured Overworld being must have had no knowledge at all about this Land and its dangers to seek refuge here.

Uruk now could feel its heart, beating quick a few steps away in the next room. Keeping his steps soundless, he moved forward and carefully paused in the twisted doorway, searching amid the rubble for the magic's source.

There...

Uruk's eyes held on a small form that lay by the mound of rubble. In the shadowy gloom, the iron scent of blood now held much stronger in his nostrils, since an entire small pool of it formed beneath the creature, glistening a deep red that slightly glowed because of the magic that continued to spill freely all around it.

Uruk could see some brown fur on the still being's head. Small limbs held pulled in close to its curled up body, barely covered by some sort of teal and blue garment. Its delicate skin, tan in color, bore multiple scratches and bruises, with a large, torn wound left by ridwa teeth on its leg, left shoulder, and arms, which continued to bleed, although sluggishly. The being's chest quickly rose and fell, trying to compensate for the profuse blood loss.

A young human cub. That's what this creature was.

Uruk looked at it and couldn't believe his eyes as what he knew of humans so far and what he now saw sharply diverged in his understanding of the world.

Humans… didn't have magic.