Morning broke over the savanna without hesitation—brilliant gold light sweeping across the white-stone houses, dust trailing behind sprinting beastkin, the distant rumble of six-legged herd-beasts echoing from far plains.
Raygen and Asa stepped from their guest shelter just as a lion-kin warrior approached with quick strides.
"Raygen. Asa," he announced, bowing with fist to chest. "The shaman has sent word. She wishes to receive you."
Asa's hand instinctively hovered near a dagger—more habit than threat.
Raygen simply nodded.
"Our first meeting," Raygen murmured.
Asa's gaze sharpened. "Stay alert. First impressions with shamans mean everything."
They followed the warrior up the stone steps carved into the sacred hill. Drums thumped faintly below as wolf-kin practiced their morning routines, claws tapping rhythmically against the dirt.
At the summit sat a tent wrapped in runes. Smoke drifted gently from incense burners. Wolf totems flanked the entrance—stoic, carved from bleached bone.
Two elite guards lifted the flap.
"You may enter."
Raygen stepped inside first.
The Shaman of Kahlra Plains
The interior was dim, but not dark. Pale-blue flame burned in gemstone lanterns. Faint patterns moved through the smoke—shapes that resembled wolves running in a full moon's glow, fading as soon as Raygen blinked.
The shaman sat at the far end.
She was old—not frail. Her silver fur shimmered like star-dust. Her posture was relaxed, ancient, unthreatening. But her eyes… her eyes were layered. Milky on the surface, but beneath the haze swirled golden rings of moving light.
Eyes that saw more than they showed.
She didn't bow or posture. She simply watched.
Raygen felt the air shift.
Not mana pressure.
Not intimidation.
Just attention—quiet, curious, precise.
Her gaze brushed him lightly.
And at that exact moment, the Void Shard in his chest pulsed once, faintly.
Asa noticed his posture stiffen but didn't speak.
The shaman finally inclined her head.
"Welcome, Raygen of no clan. Asa of shadowed paths," she said. Her voice was smooth, warm—like a story told by firelight.
Raygen bowed respectfully. Asa mirrored him.
"Please sit."
They sat cross-legged across from her.
The shaman studied them both—not rudely, not invasively—like someone cataloging rare ingredients for a potion. Her eyes lingered slightly longer on Raygen's chest, but she never commented.
"You two walk differently from the others in your world," she said quietly.
Raygen held her gaze. "Meaning?"
"Meaning your footsteps bend the grass in unusual ways."
Raygen was silent. The shard inside him gave a slow, curious pulse.
Asa's brow narrowed. "You called for us. What do you need?"
The shaman's expression shifted—calm turning to seriousness.
"I called you to speak of the East."
She lifted her staff and tapped the ground softly.
Mana hummed.
Smoke coiled into a map of the savanna, forming plains, rivers, mountains. When the eastern border appeared, its color bled from gold to sickly crimson.
"A threat stirs there," she continued. "One we have not felt for hundreds of years."
Raygen leaned forward. "What kind of threat?"
The shaman shook her head. "Not a beast. Not a tribe. Not a storm. Something deeper—something that presses on the land as though waking from sleep."
Asa's fingers flexed against her thigh. "Has it reached here?"
"No," the shaman answered. "But the spirits say its eyes have opened."
A chill moved through the tent.
Raygen inhaled slowly. "What do you need from us?"
"You owe us nothing," the shaman said. "But the land has taken interest in you. And when the land takes interest, things follow."
She stood gently.
"You may go. Train with my people. Learn how we survive this place. You will need that knowledge sooner than you think."
Raygen nodded once.
Asa rose.
But before they stepped out, the shaman spoke one more time—soft enough that only they could hear:
"The East awakens… and the wind turns toward you two."
Raygen didn't flinch.
He didn't fear it.
He simply tucked her words away like a blade.
Wolf-Kin Training Grounds
The afternoon sun beat hard against the arena carved into the stone. Wolf-kin moved with fluid aggression—shoulders rolling, claws scraping, feet kicking up dust in quick bursts.
Raygen stepped inside.
A few beastkin turned, whispering. Not with hostility—more like curiosity. Like hunters sizing up something new.
A gray-furred instructor approached, tail swaying lazily.
"So. You're the humans causing stir."
"Apparently," Raygen said.
The instructor grinned. "Good. I like stir."
He tossed Raygen two bone-handled practice blades. Raygen tested the weight: balanced, dense, carved from beast marrow.
Asa already had training daggers in hand, spinning them idly.
"Humans learn with rules," the instructor said. "Wolf-kin learn with instinct. No forms. No scripts. Just read the body. Read the wind. React."
Raygen nodded. "Show me."
The instructor lunged.
Fast.
Raygen moved without thought—ducking under a slash, parrying the next with a sliding pivot. His system flickered:
[Reflex Conditioning +1]
[Combat Instinct: 12% → 13%]
He didn't let the notifications distract him.
They traded strikes—Raygen disciplined and sharp, the wolf-kin chaotic and unreadable. Their styles clashed so differently it almost felt like two separate worlds colliding.
"Good!" the instructor barked. "But too stiff!"
He vanished—
Raygen's senses flared—
But claws tapped the back of his neck.
"Dead."
Raygen exhaled. "Again."
The wolf-kin grinned. "Yes. Again."
Asa, meanwhile, sparred two wolf-kin scouts.
In the time it took Raygen to blink, Asa seized one by the wrist, twisted, and flipped him into the dirt. The other lunged; she sidestepped, tapped his throat with a dagger hilt, and shoved him back with one boot.
Both wolf-kin froze.
Asa sheathed her training daggers calmly. "Next?"
Raygen chuckled.
She didn't.
As the sun dipped toward late afternoon, both humans stood with dust on their clothes, sweat on their brows, and beastkin watching them with new eyes.
Respect.
Interest.
Wariness.
Evening Summons and the Omen
After training ended, Raygen and Asa were approached again.
"The shaman requests your presence at dusk," the scout said.
Raygen exchanged a glance with Asa.
No hesitation.
At the hill, the shaman waited outside her tent, staff planted in the dirt. The chief stood beside her, arms crossed.
"You trained well," she said, smiling faintly. "And the land noted your efforts."
Raygen lifted an eyebrow. "The land watches training?"
"The land watches everything."
Then her smile faded.
"There is more you should hear before tomorrow."
She lifted a palm, and the air rippled.
Raygen felt the shard in his chest vibrate—soft but unmistakable.
The shaman's eyes flicked toward him, gold rings swirling faster for a heartbeat… then returning to calm.
"A tremor passed through the plains today," she said. "Most beasts did not feel it. Most people did not feel it. But the spirits did."
Asa stepped forward. "The thing in the East."
"Yes," the shaman whispered. "It shifted. Just once. But that is enough."
Raygen nodded slowly, jaw tightening. "We'll be ready."
The shaman smiled slightly. "I believe you will."
Raygen and Asa bowed and descended the steps toward their lodging.
When they were out of earshot, the chief exhaled heavily.
"So?" he asked.
The shaman closed her eyes.
"The omen is unchanged."
"And it still points toward them?" he murmured.
The shaman's answer was a whisper carried by wind:
"When the East wakes fully…
the outsiders will decide what the wind becomes."
The chief's fur bristled.
"And that boy? Raygen?"
The shaman opened her eyes—gold burning faintly.
"He walks with something ancient at his side. Something silent."
Her gaze turned toward the fading sun.
"And the East… may recognize it."
Wind swept across the plains.
Tomorrow, everything would shift.
-End of Chapter 15-