Adom remained in his crouch, pulse hammering in his ears, vision still swimming slightly from the impact. The wind spirit loomed above him, its form a distortion in reality rather than a solid presence—like looking at the world through heat ripples above summer stones.

"I say, are you quite all right?" Zuni's voice came from somewhere near his collar, the quillick having crawled out of his pocket during the commotion. "That was quite an impact."

"I'm fine," Adom managed, not taking his eyes off the massive entity. "Mostly."

The spirit towered at least fifteen feet tall, vaguely humanoid in shape but constantly shifting. Where its face should be, two points of pale blue light stared down at him coldly. Wind swirled around its form, creating a visible boundary of dust, leaves, and grass.

The masked girl stood between them, her back to Adom, one hand raised toward the spirit. She was speaking rapidly in that strange language—not shouting now, but urgent, insistent. The spirit seemed to be listening.

"What precisely is that?" Zuni whispered, creeping higher on Adom's shoulder for a better look.

"Wind elemental," Adom replied quietly. "A powerful one."

He'd seen elementals a few times, of course, but fighting one was another matter entirely. Especially one this size. Most documented elementals were much smaller—Krozball-sized or at most human-sized manifestations of elemental energy.

This thing was enormous. And old, if his guess was right. The older they got, the larger and more powerful they became.

The girl was still talking, occasionally gesturing back at Adom. The elemental's glowing eyes never left him.

"I believe she's negotiating for our lives," Zuni observed. "Rather noble of her, considering she was threatening you moments ago."

Adom nodded slightly. "She's an elementalist."

"A what?"

"A mage who specializes in elemental contracts." Adom explained. "They form partnerships with elemental spirits. The spirit lends its power, the mage gives... something in return."

The Academy had an entire branch dedicated to elementalist magic, though it wasn't particularly popular. Too unpredictable, the instructors said. Too dependent on entities with their own agendas. Most students preferred the more reliable direct mana manipulation taught in the other curriculums.

Yet here was this girl, just slightly older than him from what he could tell, communicating with an elemental that could probably level a small town.

"How does one form such a partnership?" Zuni asked, fascinated despite the danger.

"There are two paths," Adom said, slowly rising to his full height. He wasn't sure why he was even discussing this right now. "The dangerous way is learning the spirit's True Name—a metaphysical sigil representing its essence. Speaking it forces subjugation, but the spirit might resist or seek revenge."

"And the second path?"

Adom glanced at Zuni, suddenly realizing what the quillick was doing.

The tiny creature was watching him with those big amber eyes, deliberately asking questions to distract him from their precarious situation. And it was working—Adom's racing heartbeat had already begun to slow. Heh, quillicks were empathic creatures. He'd forgotten that for a minute.

The girl had stopped talking. She turned to look at Adom, her expression unreadable behind the mask. The elemental's glowing eyes narrowed.

A gust of wind hit Adom's face—not violent, but deliberate. It carried a scent of mountain snow and wild herbs.

It tests you, the whispers informed him. Show no fear, but no aggression either.

Adom stood his ground, letting the wind flow around him. He kept his hands visible at his sides, fingers relaxed, making no move to weave a spell.

The girl said something—a question, from her tone. The elemental responded not with words but with a sound like distant thunder. She nodded, then turned back to Adom.

"Meth'kal vor'as," she said again, pointing at Adom.

"Yes," Adom confirmed. "The whispers guided me here."

The girl pointed to herself. "Cyrel." Then she pointed to the elemental. "Kianthras."

Names. She was introducing herself and her partner.

"Uh... Law," he responded, touching his chest. Then, gesturing to his shoulder: "Li-bra-rian."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Zuni said with a small chirp.

Cyrel studied them for a moment longer. Then, with a decisive motion, she sheathed her curved blade in a scabbard at her hip. She gestured for Adom to follow, then turned and began walking along the riverbank, away from the fallen hunters.

The elemental—Kianthras—remained where it was, those glowing eyes tracking Adom's every move.

Go with her, the whispers urged. She will lead you to us.

"Shall we?" Zuni asked.

Adom nodded, stepping carefully around the elemental's perimeter. He could feel its attention on him like a physical weight, pressing against his skin.

Most mages had naturally occurring affinities—elements their mana resonated with more strongly. 'Water mages' found liquid manipulation easier, fire mages had an innate understanding of combustion principles, and so on.

As Adom followed Cyrel along the riverbank, he couldn't help but glance back at the massive elemental still watching him. His own affinity had always leaned toward fire and wind—basic fireballs had come easily to him even when he was just starting to manifest magic, barely able to channel mana properly.

"Excuse me," he called to Cyrel's back, making a circular motion with his finger toward the elemental. "Is your friend going to keep staring at me the whole time? It's a bit... unnerving."

Cyrel glanced back, her expression hidden behind the mask. She said something incomprehensible, then shrugged and continued walking.

"I believe that was either 'yes' or 'deal with it,'" Zuni observed dryly.

"Great," Adom muttered.

They continued in silence for several minutes, following the winding path of the river. The prairie grasses were stirred by a breeze that seemed to follow their progress.

"Law," Zuni said suddenly, "I'm wondering why our incorporeal guides aren't simply leading us directly to our destination. They've been rather insistent so far, yet now they're delegating to this masked stranger?"

Adom frowned. The quillick had a point.

"I was thinking the same thing," he admitted quietly. "The whispers know exactly where the cave is. Why do we need a guide?"

"Still," Adom muttered.

Ahead, Cyrel suddenly stopped and turned back. She made a hurrying motion with her hand, then tapped her wrist impatiently—a gesture that seemed oddly universal despite the language barrier.

Adom caught up to her, then mimicked walking with his fingers, followed by a questioning shrug and pantomimed combat.

Where are we going? Will we fight more things?

Cyrel tilted her head, clearly thinking about how to respond. She pointed to the mountains in the distance, then made a cave shape with her hands. She was about to continue when something caught her attention.

Her eyes widened behind the mask.

Adom turned, following her gaze skyward.

At first, he saw nothing but blue sky and scattered clouds. Then he spotted them—tiny dots, far in the distance, approaching rapidly.

"What are those?" Zuni asked, squinting.

The dots grew larger, taking shape. Wings—massive, leathery wings that caught the sunlight. Bodies that seemed human from the waist up, but below that...

Talons. Feathers. Not human at all.

"Are those... harpies?" Adom asked, voice rising slightly.

Her sentinels! the whispers hissed urgently. Hurry!

Cyrel was already backing away, her hand going to the hilt of her curved blade. She barked something that sounded like a command, gesturing frantically toward a copse of trees about a hundred yards from the riverbank.

"To hell with stealth," Adom muttered, raising his hands. "She already knows we're here. She keeps finding me even without using magic."

White energy began to flow along his arms as he prepared to weave a spell. The harpies were close enough now that he could see their faces—beautiful but wrong, with too-wide eyes and mouths full of needle-like teeth.

"I'll handle this," he said to Cyrel, who was still gesturing toward the trees.

Adom's fingers traced a complex pattern in the air, gathering power for a mass [Conflagration] spell that would engulf the entire flock in flames.

Before he could release it, the sky darkened.

Wind howled past him with such force that he had to brace himself against it. The clouds overhead rippled, then twisted violently, spiraling into a funnel shape. A tornado formed in seconds, far faster than any natural phenomenon.

The harpies screeched in alarm, trying to veer away. Too late. The tornado expanded, catching them in its circulation. Feathers, wings, and bodies tumbled helplessly in the raging winds, carried higher and higher until they disappeared into the clouds.

Adom lowered his hands, the spell forgotten, and turned.

Cyrel stood with her arms raised, her cloak whipping around her in the gale. But it wasn't her doing it—at least, not directly. Behind her, the elemental Kianthras had fully manifested, its vaguely humanoid form now crackling with mana. The two points of light that served as its eyes were blazing like stars.

The tornado dissipated as quickly as it had formed. The sky cleared. No trace remained of the harpies.

"I want one of those," Adom said, not entirely joking.

Zuni made a noise that might have been a laugh. "Perhaps for your next birthday."

Cyrel lowered her arms, saying something to the elemental. It responded with a sound like wind whistling through mountain peaks, then faded back to its previous state—present but less visible.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

She turned to Adom, making an impatient gesture toward the trees. This time, he didn't argue.

The copse of trees Cyrel led them toward turned out to be much more than it appeared from a distance. As they approached, what had seemed like an ordinary stand of trees revealed itself as the edge of a proper forest—dense, ancient, and somehow more vibrant than the prairie they were leaving behind.

Adom noticed the change as soon as they passed beneath the first trees. The air felt different—cooler, but also thicker, charged with something he couldn't quite name. The light filtered through the canopy in shafts of gold, illuminating patches of forest floor where moss grew in shades of green.

"Is it just me," he whispered to Zuni, "or does this place feel... awake?"

Zuni poked his head fully out from Adom's pocket. "Indeed. Quite extraordinarily so."

Cyrel moved ahead of them, her steps silent on the carpet of moss and fallen leaves. She carried a staff Adom hadn't noticed before—a gnarled length of pale wood that seemed to shimmer faintly when it passed through the beams of light. Where did she get that? Dimensional artifact, maybe?

They walked for several minutes, following no path Adom could discern, yet Cyrel never hesitated. Occasionally she would turn and grunt or gesture, indicating they should hurry or watch their step.

"Not much for conversation, is she?" Adom muttered.

"I believe she communicates precisely what she intends to," Zuni replied. "Just not in a manner you're accustomed to."

A rustling in the undergrowth made Adom tense, his hand automatically rising to weave a defensive spell. Cyrel shot him a sharp look and shook her head.

From the bushes emerged a fox—or at least, something fox-adjacent. Its coat was the expected russet color, but it had ten tails. It regarded them with eyes that were decidedly too knowing for a normal animal.

"Oh my," Zuni said, squirming in Adom's pocket. "Might I...?"

Before Adom could answer, the quillick had wriggled free and hopped to the ground. He approached the fox, stopping a respectful distance away. To Adom's surprise, Zuni made a small, formal bow.

"Good afternoon," the quillick said. "I am Librarian, companion to Law. Might we have the pleasure of passing through your territory?"

The fox tilted its head, regarding Zuni with evident curiosity. Then it made a series of yips and soft barks.

Zuni nodded as if he understood perfectly. "Quite so. We are merely passing through, I assure you. No intention of disturbing the balance."

The fox glanced at Adom, then back at Zuni. Another series of yips.

"Oh, him?" Zuni looked back at Adom. "Yes, he's rather dense about these things, but he's learning. Druidic inclinations, you see. Still developing."

"Wait," Adom said, staring at the exchange in disbelief. "You can actually understand what it's saying?"

"Of course," Zuni replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Can't you?"

"No! I mean... not without using my mana to create an empathic bridge first."

The fox made what sounded suspiciously like a laugh—a huffing, breathy sound—before turning and trotting away into the undergrowth.

"What just happened?" Adom asked as Zuni scampered back to him and climbed up to his shoulder.

"A perfectly civil exchange," Zuni said. "She was merely inquiring about our business here. I assured her we mean no harm."

Cyrel had paused a few yards ahead, watching them. She made a beckoning gesture and continued walking.

"How did you do that?" Adom asked Zuni as they followed. "Communicate with the fox?"

"I simply listened," Zuni replied. "Much as you did with the Graven Scale. All creatures have their own way of speaking, if one bothers to pay attention."

"But that was different. I was using empathic projection—creating an emotional bridge with my mana."

"A useful technique," Zuni agreed, "but not the only way to communicate. Sometimes one must simply... listen."

"Listen to what? I didn't hear words."

"Perhaps you weren't listening with the correct faculty." Zuni's tone was patient, like a teacher explaining a simple concept to a particularly slow student. "Try again, with the next creature we encounter."

They didn't have to wait long.

The forest seemed increasingly alive around them, teeming with creatures that weren't quite normal. A squirrel with translucent, leaf-like ears scampered across their path. Birds with vivid plumage flitted between branches. And once, Adom could have sworn he saw a deer with small antlers made of crystal, though it vanished before he could be certain.

Then, as they crossed a small stream via stepping stones, Adom spotted something perched on a low branch ahead—an owl, despite it being full daylight. Like the fox, it wasn't quite what it should be. Its feathers seemed to shimmer with a faint bluish light, and its eyes were far too large and intelligent.

"Perfect," Zuni said. "Now, try to communicate. Don't overthink it."

"What should I say?" Adom whispered.

"Whatever comes naturally. Just remember to listen afterward."

Adom stared at the owl, feeling foolish. "Uh... hello?"

The owl blinked slowly.

"Maybe try using your mana," Zuni suggested. "As a conduit. Like that one time in the dungeon."

Adom nodded. He focused on the white energy that had been coursing through him since the transformation. Instead of shaping it into a spell structure, he let it flow naturally, extending it outward in tendrils similar to how he'd connected with the Graven Scale.

The owl's head swiveled slightly, its attention sharpening.

"Hello," Adom tried again, focusing on projecting simple curiosity and goodwill through the mana.

And then, to his shock, he heard—no, not heard exactly—a response.

Such a noisy way to speak. The words formed directly in his mind, as clear as if someone had spoken them aloud, yet they bypassed his ears entirely.

Adom nearly lost his concentration from the shock. "I... you can talk?"

All things speak. Few listen properly. The owl's mental voice was dry, faintly amused, with an undertone of patience. You are new to this, fledgling.

"Yes," Adom admitted. "Very new. I'm still learning."

Learning is good. The forest remembers learners.

"What does that mean?"

But the owl had apparently decided the conversation was over. It spread its wings—revealing patterns of starlight within its feathers—and glided away into the deeper forest.

"That was incredible," Adom breathed. "I could actually hear its thoughts. Not just sense emotions or impressions, but actual words."

"Indeed," Zuni agreed, looking mildly impressed. "Though I daresay your technique could use refinement. You projected so much mana you were practically shouting."

"You could hear that?"

"Not precisely. But I could certainly feel it." Zuni adjusted his position on Adom's shoulder. "You see, I don't use mana for this—at least, not consciously. For quillicks, it's entirely natural. We simply... understand."

"So you don't know how you do it?"

"Can you explain precisely how you breathe? Or how your heart beats? Some things simply are."

Cyrel had stopped to watch the exchange, her head tilted in apparent interest. When Adom turned to her, she nodded once, as if confirming something to herself, then continued walking.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, Adom began to notice other presences—whisper-thin at first, then more distinct. Shapes in the corner of his eye that vanished when he tried to look directly at them. Ripples in the air like heat distortion, but cool to the touch. And once, a distinct impression of a tiny, humanoid figure darting behind a mushroom.

"Zun- I mean, Librarian," he whispered, "I think I'm seeing spirits."

"Most assuredly," Zuni replied, entirely unperturbed. "This forest seems to be quite densely populated with them."

A particularly bold one materialized on a branch near Adom's head—a small, translucent figure with features that seemed to shift between human, animal, and plant. It chattered at him, the sound like tiny bells.

This time, Adom didn't hesitate. He extended his awareness through his mana, creating a bridge without forcing it, and—

Curious-strange-new-friend? The thoughts came not as coherent words but as fragmented impressions, a jumble of concepts and feelings.

"Yes," Adom said, smiling. "New friend. My name is Law."

Law-name-sound-nice. Play-follow-come?

"I can't right now. I'm following her." He gestured to Cyrel.

The spirit seemed to consider this, then nodded vigorously. Cyrel-friend-guardian-yes. Go-follow-good.

It dissolved back into mist, but Adom could feel its presence continuing to follow them, joined by others—a small entourage of curious spirits trailing their progress.

The deeper they went, the more the forest came alive around them. Adom found himself able to sense more and more of the hidden life—not just animals and spirits, but the trees themselves, each with its own slow, patient awareness. The moss beneath their feet. The fungi growing in networks beneath the soil. All connected, all communicating in their own ways.

And he could understand them now—not with his ears, but with something else, some sense he hadn't known he possessed. Some of the voices were complex and articulate, like the owl's. Others were simpler, more primal—hunger, curiosity, territorial warnings. A symphony of consciousness that had always been there, just beyond normal perception.

"This is overwhelming," he admitted to Zuni. "How do you filter it all?"

"With practice," Zuni replied. "Focus on one voice at a time, rather than trying to hear the entire chorus."

Adom tried, concentrating on a nearby chipmunk that was watching them from a tree root. Its thoughts were rapid, skittering things, but with a clear thread of personality behind them.

Tall-walkers smell strange. Not-forest, but not-danger. The small blue one speaks well. Perhaps they have seeds? No, no time for seeds. Must warn the burrow-family about the hawk-shadow from this morning.

"Their thoughts are so... mundane," Adom said, surprised.

"What were you expecting?" Zuni asked. "Philosophical treatises? Cosmic revelations? Most creatures are concerned with survival and their immediate needs, much like most humans."

"I guess I just thought..."

"That because they're different, they must be profound?" Zuni sounded amused. "A common misconception. Though occasionally—" he nodded toward a massive old oak they were passing, "—you'll find exceptions."

Adom extended his senses toward the ancient tree. What came back was so vast and slow that he could only catch fragments—memories of centuries, impressions of countless seasons, a patient awareness of the smallest changes in its environment. It was like trying to comprehend an entire library from reading random pages.

"It's too much," he said, pulling back.

"Quite so," Zuni agreed. "Elder trees are rather like trying to read an encyclopedia all at once. One must approach them with specific questions, or simply appreciate their presence without trying to understand fully."

A brown rabbit hopped onto the path ahead of them, sitting up on its hind legs to study the travelers. Unlike the fox or owl, it appeared completely ordinary.

More big-walkers. The masked one again. Others new. Not fox-smell, not hawk-smell. Not danger-smell. Curious.

"Hello," Adom projected, careful to keep his mana gentle this time.

The rabbit's nose twitched rapidly. Speaks-in-head! Strange. You speak plant-tongue?

"Plant-tongue?"

Green-speak. Growing-language. The silent words.

Adom glanced at Zuni, who nodded encouragingly. "I'm learning," he told the rabbit.

Learning good. Many forget. Many no longer listen. The rabbit hopped closer, inspecting him. You listen well for big-walker. Most stomp-crash-break through forest, no hearing when trees cry.

"I'm sorry about that," Adom said, not knowing what else to say.

Not-your-fault. The rabbit scratched its ear with a hind foot. Here, joke for new listener: Why do squirrels make bad hunters?

Adom blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. "I... don't know. Why?"

They only go for the easy nuts! The rabbit's mental voice conveyed such delight at its own joke that Adom couldn't help laughing.

"That's terrible," he said, grinning.

Best joke! All creatures laugh. Even grumpy badger laughed, once.

"Well, thank you for sharing it."

The rabbit nodded, satisfied, then hopped off the path and disappeared into the undergrowth, its thoughts fading from Adom's perception.

Adom turned to find both Zuni and Cyrel watching him. The quillick looked pleased with that particular smile of his; the girl just stood there.

"What?" he asked.

"You're improving rapidly," Zuni said. "That was a much more natural exchange."

Cyrel said something in her own language, gesturing between Adom and the spot where the rabbit had been.

"I believe she's impressed," Zuni translated—or interpreted. "Not many of her visitors communicate with the forest dwellers so quickly."

Adom felt oddly pleased by the implied compliment. "It's coming more naturally than I expected. Like I'm remembering a skill rather than learning a new one."

He thought about the other changes he'd noticed since his transformation. Back in the swamp, he'd managed to weave multiple spells simultaneously—keeping the water sphere active while freezing it, then immediately forming the ice lances without a moment's pause. Before, even simple dual-casting would have left him winded. And now he was apparently developing the ability to directly communicate with animals and spirits without formal training.

Whatever the white energy was, it was enhancing his capabilities far beyond normal progression. Something to explore more fully once they were out of immediate danger.

As they continued walking, Adom found himself intentionally reaching out to more of the forest inhabitants, practicing the delicate balance of projection and reception. Some ignored him. Others responded with varying degrees of coherence and interest. A particularly grouchy badger told him, in no uncertain terms, to keep his "mind-voice" to himself unless he had something important to say.

The more he practiced, the more natural it felt. The white energy that flowed through him seemed particularly well-suited to this kind of communication—not forcing connections, but offering them, creating bridges where creatures could meet halfway.

Cyrel occasionally glanced back at him, her eyes above the mask showing what might have been approval or possibly amusement at his growing excitement. Once, when he successfully communicated with a family of mice without frightening them, she nodded and made a small gesture that somehow conveyed "well done."

They stopped briefly by a small pond, where Cyrel knelt to refill a water skin. Adom took the opportunity to sit on a fallen log, processing everything he'd experienced.

"I've never felt anything like this," he admitted to Zuni. "It's like... discovering a sense I never knew I had."

"In a manner of speaking, that's precisely what's happening," Zuni replied, grooming his silver-tipped spines. "Professor Elowen once said humans are born with the capacity for this awareness, but most never develop it. Your magical transformation seems to have... accelerated the process considerably."

A dragonfly zipped past Adom's face, then hovered.

You-new-you-different-you-changed-river-speaks-of-you, its thoughts came in rapid, almost incomprehensible bursts.

"The river speaks of me?" Adom asked, trying to follow.

Yes-yes-river-remembers-all-who-touch-it-you-changed-its-song-with-ice-magic-river-curious-about-you.

"Is that... good?"

Rivers-judge-not-rivers-observe-remember-flow-on. The dragonfly darted away, its attention already elsewhere.

Adom looked toward the pond, extending his awareness cautiously. There was something there—a consciousness so alien and fluid that he could barely grasp it. The water itself, aware in some fundamental way, but with a mind utterly unlike anything human.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Zuni said. "Water has the longest memory of all elements. It retains impressions of everything it touches."

"How do you know all this?" Adom asked.

"Quillicks are naturally empathic," Zuni replied, sounding almost smug. "We're born with the awareness you're now developing. Though I must say, you're progressing at a remarkable rate."

As if in response to his words, a notification appeared in Adom's awareness:

[Path Advancement]

Through consistent practice and natural talent, your understanding of druidic principles has deepened significantly.

Path of the Druid has advanced from Novice to Initiate.

Current Paths:

Runicologist (Expert)

Alchemist (Novice)

Druid (Initiate)

Adom blinked, surprised but pleased. "I just advanced to Initiate in the druidic path."

"Indeed?" Zuni peered at him curiously. "That was rather quick. Perhaps the white energy is enhancing your natural capabilities."

Cyrel had finished with the water and was watching them again. She made an impatient gesture toward the depths of the forest.

"Yes, yes, we're coming," Adom said, standing.

As they continued their journey, Adom noticed the spirits growing more numerous and less shy. They flickered around Cyrel like familiar companions, occasionally approaching Adom with curious chirps and bell-like laughter.

"They seem to know her well," he observed.

"She is of this place," Zuni replied.