Tatal had been gravely wounded in the battle against the Basilisk. In fact, she was barely alive.
But she was alive.
The shadow delivered her unconscious body, as well as the hide of the slain Devil, to the outskirts of the village. Then, he disappeared and returned to the comfortable, cold darkness of his cave. The tribesmen had to be full of shock and joy at the return of their shaman. After all, slaying the Basilisk was not what a mere Ascended was meant to be capable of... the battle Tatal had fought was, without a doubt, a spectacular and awesome feat — a feat worthy of becoming a song, or perhaps even a myth, one day.
The myth of a valiant shaman who faced an unstoppable calamity with a song and a copper blade.
But the shadow was in no mood to observe the tribesmen celebrating.
He was troubled... he was uneasy.
Even now that the Basilisk was dead and Tatal was out of danger, the shadow still felt strangely disturbed. It was all because of what Tatal had said, back in the depths of the forest.
'Why did she refuse my help?'
The shadow was like a god to the people of the small human tribe. So why would Tatal turn away from her god and choose to face the Devil alone?
The shadow did not know why, but that question resonated with the depths of his dark being.
A fragment of a long-forgotten conversation surfaced from the depths of his mind, spoken by a man he did not remember in a life he did not want to recall.
'Never trust the gods...'
Who had said it?
What did it mean?
The shadow already knew the kind of chilling horror lesser creatures felt when faced with the unfathomable vastness of Divine and Unholy beings — and of those who were Sacred or Cursed, as well. Being so small, so insignificant, so indescribably powerless... it almost made everything feel meaningless.
The only way to keep your sanity while sharing a world with such beings was not to think about their greatness at all.
However, the shadow had only ever considered the gods as a harrowing, inescapable threat. They did not even need to harbor any hostility against the shadow to destroy him. Entire realms could perish from the smallest aftershock of their actions — in front of them, even a being like him was no more than an ant, and just like an ant, he could be crushed by the careless steps of these giants.
He had only ever thought about the gods as an odd, inherently hazardous and calamitous force. He always assumed that beings that were lesser than him, like the tribesmen, would feel the same way.
But what if a god was benevolent, instead? What if a god was gentle and cared about you? What if they were willing to extend a helping hand without asking anything in return?
One would assume that having a god's favor would be an incredible boon. Who had not hoped for a miracle, after all? Who had not wished for there to be an all-powerful, kind being watching over them?
The shadow was neither kind nor all-powerful, but he could have been Tatal's miracle.
And yet, she had refused him. It was for his benefit, yes, since she considered him a dear friend. But it was for her own benefit as well — her words hinted at that, implying something he had never considered
before...
That a benevolent god was just as terrifying as a hostile one — maybe even more so.
'Why?'
The shadow spent a long time in the darkness, thinking.
In the end, he came to a conclusion that made him uncomfortable. That conclusion was not about what Tatal believed, but rather about what the shadow himself felt would be true... but that did not make it any less confusing.
It was that the existence of a kind god still rendered the efforts of mortals meaningless, while their benevolence was too sweet to resist — once someone tasted it, there was no going back.
If the great gods existed and were willing to pay attention to the lives of mortals, then what were mortals to do? They could strive to accomplish something for their entire lives, and in the end, everything they achieved would still be infinitely inferior to a deity's casual act. Their lives would feel fleeting and dreary, pathetic and pitiful in comparison to the glorious existence of gods.
They would only be able to look in envy at what gods could do, what gods created, and what gods possessed.
Power, freedom, abundance, immortality... Life was harsh, and mortals could endure its harshness because that was the reality that all living things had to confront. But what if they had to behold beings who were unbound by reality, who treated reality as soft and malleable instead?
That, the shadow surmised, would fill them with a heartbreaking sense of injustice.
Of maddening envy and quiet despair. Faced with the greatness of gods, mortals would only have two choices. One was to continue living their lives, heartbroken, while the other was to throw themselves on the perilous Path of Ascension in hopes of becoming a deity one day, too.
But that was just one side of the coin.
On the other side was the danger of receiving help from a deity.
Humans were small and weak, but gods were great and all-powerful. So, what if a god descended into a mortal realm to help its people?
Once a deity helped them once, wouldn't they want to receive that help once more? And if they continued to be favored by their god, wouldn't they come to expect divine assistance? Wouldn't they come to rely on it, forgetting their own efforts?
What would happen if a deity solved all their problems, protected them from all the dangers, and gave them all the things they desired?
The shadow remembered the awe Tatal had felt when she saw copper for the first time, and the joy she shared with him when the craftsmen of her tribe learned to work it. The enthusiasm she was brimming with when figuring out how to make clay bricks. The boastful pride she was full of because of her wool dress — the first one in the village.
He knew that he could have created her a blade that was a thousand times more durable than copper with a thought. He could build a city for her tribe in a matter of minutes. He could weave a fabric that was more sublime and wondrous than anything Tatal had ever worn, touched, and seen.
He could have killed the Basilisk, as well. But if he had... would Tatal ever be able to overcome the temptation of asking him for more?
Of killing more of her enemies. Of providing more for her tribe. Of making life less harsh... of overcoming the struggles of life in her stead.
And if that happened, then would her joy, enthusiasm, and pride disappear one day? Would they be extinguished, little by little, like a flame starving without fuel?
Stolen away by the generous deity.
The shadow stirred.
It did not know.
It felt like Tatal had fathomed something that even he, a being far greater and more ancient than her, had not.
That it was hazardous for mortals to be subjects of divine affection.
Countless people across history had not felt the same. The two men of the Empire he remembered were certainly comfortable serving a nation ruled directly by a god.
But then again, was the Empire really the best example? Or was it exactly the kind of malignant anomaly that Tatal was reluctant to create?
The great and glorious Empire of War,
which conquered the world with fire and sword... whose conquest could not be resisted or stopped, because it was protected by a god.
Until, one day, it was stopped. The people who stopped it simply had to kill the gods first, destroying all of existence with them. The shadow rested in the darkness, uncomfortable. He did not know why the issue of godhood concerned him so much, let alone the issue of the relationship between gods and people.
He wasn't a god, after all, and neither did he have the desire to help people.
Tatal was the singular exception to his indifferent attitude toward all humans, and since she did not want his help, the point was moot.
So, the shadow could forget all about it and rest easily, knowing that these maddening questions had nothing to do with him.Tatal eventually recovered from her wounds.
Her tribe had not been forced to abandon its land and scatter to the winds.
Instead, it absorbed the survivors of the Basilisk's rampage and grew. Its reputation had soared, as well, since people of the surrounding lands — those lucky enough to have been spared the Devil's wrath — eventually learned that it was Tatal, the shaman of the Shadow Tribe, who had slain the beast.
There were hard times, at first, because the hunters of the tribe had been decimated, and its chieftain had lost an arm. But the tribe survived and grew stronger for it. The Basilisk had given it great boons in death. Its hide, its bones, its fangs, its soul shards — all of it was used by the tribesmen to empower themselves.
Soon enough, the youths reached adulthood. Trained by Stone Hand, their former chieftain, they became skilled hunters and replaced those who had perished in the woods. The fields expanded. The craftsmen of the tribe developed their craft and reached new heights.
Tatal ruled wisely. She was both beloved and revered by her people, respected by the neighboring tribes... her name had even traveled to faraway lands, earning her a bit of renown and fame.
She still visited the shadow every year, bringing with her stories of her people. One time, not long after the Basilisk had been slain, she came to his cave in a mood that seemed both joyful and melancholic.
"My firstborn is getting married, Shadow."
She smiled joyfully, tears glistening in her eyes.
"He is going to leave the tribe. His bride is from the Otter tribe... they live so far away. When will I see him again?"
Tatal lowered her head.
"I am so happy for him, but I am also so sad. Ah, Shadow... when did life become so complicated?"
Another year, when Tatal came to visit him, her expression was thoughtful.
"Do you know, Shadow? Guests came to the tribe this year. They are people who travel the land, doing nothing but exchanging things. They bartered numerous wondrous items, and they were also interested in purchasing a great deal of things from us... I never really thought about it, but many things we have or make here would seem wondrous to someone else."
She chuckled.
"But they also brought stories. There was a war between the Wolf Tribe and the Elk Tribe, it seems. Seven tribes have come together to build a great temple, somewhere far away, in the lands our ancestors left. The Goddess of the Moon has given birth to a human child. One of the First Humans, a man named Kanakht, is said to have defied the will of the heavens. The world is so vast, Shadow... it makes me so curious. It makes me feel happy to be alive."
Another year, Tatal came bearing gifts.
"Look, Shadow!"
The shadow looked, feeling perplexed.
"What is it?"
Tatal raised the item higher.
"It's called a pillow! There are goose feathers inside. My youngest daughter made it — you are supposed to put your head on it when you sleep. She also did the embroidery!"
Nothing she said made the shadow feel less bewildered.
"I know what a pillow is. Why are you waving it around?"
Tatal blinked a couple of times.
"Well, I just thought... there's nothing but cold stones in your cave. So, I brought you a pillow, for you to rest more comfortably..."
The shadow had to refuse her gift.
He did, however, express his gratitude. Even if he did not have a head to rest on a pillow, the gesture itself, no matter how misguided, was quite sweet.
...He did get the impression that Tatal just wanted to brag about her youngest daughter, though.
Tatal's children grew up. After the firstborn, others had their weddings as well. Her husband retired from being the chieftain and dedicated himself to teaching the young members of the tribe. A new chieftain was selected to replace him, this one coming from a different family.
There were troubles and losses, too. Mystical beasts sometimes set their sights on the tribe's people. Creatures of Corruption — those weak enough for the shadow to ignore — prowled in the darkness. The more Tatal's tribe possessed, the more members of other tribes looked at it with envy.
She had to mediate conflicts at times. At times, she had to take up her bow and her spear, venturing into the forest to fight dangerous creatures. But no matter what happened, Tatal always managed to emerge victorious.
Her fame and reputation slowly grew.
Her power grew, as well.
This primal world was harsh and full of peril, so those who challenged it had no choice but to be tempered by its trials. And so, one day, before the shadow could even consider it, Tatal's soul tore through the boundary of her mortal body, and she became Transcendent — the first Transcendent of her tribe, as well as of all the other tribes in this remote land.
Her Transcendent form was that of a great, magnificent fox.
When Tatal became a Transcendent, there was a great celebration among her people. Beings like her were not unheard of among humans — there had been a lot of them among the mythical First Humans, and there were some among the older tribes that populated distant realms. But in this land, she was the first.
The people who lived here had only ever heard about Transcendent humans in myths and legends. So, they were full of exhilaration and awe.
The shadow, naturally, had an entirely different perspective.
But, still...
He was happy, too.
Because Transcendent beings lived longer lives. That meant that Tatal would be by his side for a bit longer, too.
The tribe was almost unrecognizable by then. What had started as a small scattering of crude tents was now a thriving village with homes built from wood and clay. The tiny pieces of land the tribesmen farmed had turned into vast fields. There were pens for cattle, chickens, and geese.
The crude flint weapons the hunters had used were replaced with copper blades. Instead of hide and fur, they now wore garments made of fabric — some woven out of plants, some out of wool.
Even the wolf-dogs who had been companions of humans for the longest time seemed different, somehow.
The shadow sighed.
'In the blink of an eye...'
All of this had happened in the blink of an eye.
He was almost worried to imagine what would happen if he closed his eyes and took a little nap.