A guttural cry died in the dust-choked air. Finn stood over the crumpled form of the Stone Ghast, its head a pulverized mess of jagged rock and dead muscle, a single, precise impact from his channeled earth-force having done the work. He held his hand steady, the faint tremor of spent power still thrumming in his bones.
Ser Kael, the knight he’d stumbled upon, approached with a deliberate gait, his ancient-looking longbow slack in one hand. Finn watched him, a knot of unease tightening in his gut. Helping the man was a risk. What if Kael, once healed, spoke of a plainsman with unnatural power? Finn would be forced to vanish, to flee his simple life.
Yet, the old knight had offered courtesy, shared his meager rations. Kael had respected him as a fellow traveler, not a lesser being. That was enough.
“Are you… well, lad?” Kael’s voice rasped, his eyes not on Finn, but fixed on the still creature.
“Watch yourself!”
No explanation was needed. The Stone Ghast, headless and inert moments before, convulsed. Its body, a patchwork of hardened hide and exposed stone, began to glow with a sickly pale green light. It pushed itself up, a horrifying mockery of life, and lunged.
Finn reacted, a surge of raw earth-force through his leg sending a jarring kick into the creature’s chest. The Ghast skittered backward, rolling several times before righting itself. It seemed unharmed, the ethereal light pulsating from its neck stump.
“Undead spirits ignore common blows!” Kael shouted, reaching for his quiver.
“Then how do I stop it?” Finn’s voice was sharper than he intended, a flicker of fear making his skin crawl.
“Burn it! Or shatter its core with raw, channeled energy!”
Finn tried. He focused, reaching deep, attempting to draw forth the scorching heat that sometimes thrummed beneath the earth. A faint shimmer appeared in his palm, a ghost of what he sought, then dissipated like smoke. It was useless.
Kael, witnessing the brief, uncontrolled burst, understood. This young plainsman knew nothing of structured channeling, of elemental causality. He just *felt* it.
“Don’t just try to conjure it! *Form* it, then *launch* it!” Kael yelled, his eyes wide with an unexpected awe.
Finn didn’t know how. But Kael’s words sparked an instinct. He imagined the smooth, heavy stones he’d always launched from his sling, the precise arc, the impact. He reached again, deeper this time, for the primal energies humming beneath Khem’s ancient ruins. A spiraling orb of superheated rock and raw, resonant force materialized above his hand, crackling with pale amber light.
He *threw* it.
The incandescent projectile screamed through the air, a miniature sun fragment. It slammed into the Ghast’s chest with a sickening crunch. The creature shrieked, a sound of pure agony, and thrashed, attempting to extinguish the consuming energy by rolling violently on the parched ground.
But the elemental fire clung, fed by the Ghast’s own necrotic essence. Finn poured every ounce of his focus, maintaining the searing connection, ensuring the corrosive heat did not abate. He could feel the Ghast’s struggle, its resistance weakening.
Thirty long seconds later, with a final, echoing wail, the pale green luminescence flared blindingly, then collapsed inward. The Stone Ghast's body disintegrated, crumbling into a pile of fine ash and dust. Both men let out ragged breaths.
“Is it truly done?” Finn’s voice was hoarse.
“For now,” Kael said, sheathing his bow. “Now… absorb its essence. Unless you wish to face another.”
Finn stared at the pile of ash. Absorbing essence? He’d never heard of such a thing. Kael gestured, a silent command.
He stretched out a hand, a strange sense of apprehension washing over him. He imagined inhaling something unseen, drawing it in. A faint, pale green mist, like the ghast’s former aura, rose from the ashes. It drifted toward his outstretched hand, then seeped into his skin.
A chilling sensation spread through him, but also a thrilling, alien pleasure. It felt as though something vital was being collected, distilled, *stored* deep within his core. His own strength, his connection to the earth, felt sharper, more present. He shivered, a visceral thrill running through his entire body.
“Is that truly your first time absorbing a creature’s essence?” Kael’s voice was low, laced with disbelief.
“Yes,” Finn managed, his voice still a little shaky.
“Incredible.” Kael’s gaze was intense. He knew that raw power usually grew slowly. To display such innate force without proper absorption, without training… Finn’s potential was monstrous. Kael cleared his throat, his posture subtly shifting. The casual tone was gone, replaced by something far more formal.
“My apologies for my earlier familiarity, young master. May I inquire after your lineage?”
Finn recoiled from the sudden deference. It felt wrong, unsettling. He found no comfort in it.
“Let’s see to your wounds first,” Finn said, gesturing to the ragged tear above Kael’s brow, still oozing blood from the Ghast’s claw.
---
Kael groaned softly, a low sound of discomfort, as Finn applied a pungent herb paste to his wound and bound it with strips of clean, torn cloth. Finn kept a small store of salves and bandages for his infrequent scrapes and cuts, though he usually reserved the more potent ones for his flock. Healing with pure earth energy was possible, he knew, but it drained him severely. Even mending a shallow cut on his mother had left him weak for an hour.
“My profound apologies, young master. To think I burdened one of your caliber with such a task.”
“I’ve told you,” Finn insisted, meeting Kael’s gaze squarely. He tried to convey his exasperation, his firm dismissal of such talk. “I’m no master. Just a plainsman from the plateau, born without a known father.”
Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. Kael finally relented, a small, weary shake of his head.
“Alright, alright… I will cease.” A faint smile touched Kael’s lips. Finn found himself returning it, a flicker of amusement breaking through the tension.
“But why,” Kael began, his tone gentler now, “does one with such gifts dwell as a plainsman in this desolate land? With all due respect to the simple life, it hardly seems fitting.”
It was the same question Finn had asked Kael the previous day, only reversed. He couldn't answer with the same quiet pride Kael had shown for his knighthood. There was no pride in his isolation, only quiet resignation.
“It’s a long tale.” Finn's voice was flat, detached. He spoke of his childhood, of the burgeoning power he'd instinctively suppressed. He recounted his mother’s warnings, whispered fiercely over meager meals, of the world beyond their plateau: a place of greedy nobles, brutal wars, and the crushing weight of expectation on those with power.
Kael listened, his expression somber, then nodded slowly.
“She possessed great wisdom.”
Finn's eyebrows arched slightly. “You truly believe that?” He had expected Kael, a man of evident status, to scoff, to dismiss his mother’s fears as ignorant superstition. To claim the world was not so harsh.
“Twenty seasons past, the House Veridian I served faced the might of House Aethel. Of three thousand knights, over nine hundred perished. A third of our strength, gone.” Kael’s eyes glazed over, lost in memory. “My two closest companions. My wife. My son. All lost. Only I survived.”
His voice was devoid of emotion, but Finn saw the haunted look, the tremor in his hands. A profound sorrow. Finn couldn’t fully grasp it, not like Kael, but he knew the hollow ache of loss. The quiet despair of losing his mother. He knew it well enough.
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the chirr of unseen insects. Kael eventually roused himself, clearing his throat, his expression brightening, forcing the memories away.
“Your mother’s fears were understandable, young Finn. But she was wrong on one vital point: your potential far eclipses that of any mere knight.” Kael leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “It’s embarrassing to admit, given my current state, but I am no novice. And yet, you dispatched a Stone Ghast, a creature that would have taxed me, and you did it without a single formal lesson.”
He took a slow sip of water from a clay jug before continuing.
“Such ability… it places you among the highest ranks, among the Great Houses themselves.”
Finn felt a pang of skepticism. It didn’t feel real. He’d spent a lifetime believing his mother’s assessment: that his power was merely a knight’s strength, nothing more. Perhaps Kael was merely overstating his abilities, grateful for the rescue.
“My mother said my father was a knight. Could she have lied?”
“Exceptions always exist,” Kael replied, shaking his head. “A mighty oak can sprout from a barren seed. A child of plain stock can possess the deep current of ancient energy, just as a scion of power can be born with little. Such cases are rare, but they occur.” He paused, then added, “For this reason, I believe you must leave this plateau.”
“Why?” The question felt heavy on Finn’s tongue.
“Because humankind needs more than squabbling nobles and weary knights. Humanity has not yet claimed true dominion over this world. The Stone Ghasts, yes, but also other ancient races, banished by the Old Gods, wait in the deep places, biding their time. And while they wait, the noble houses tear at each other. A strong, virtuous leader, one with such raw power as yourself, is desperately needed. One more voice, one more hand.”
Ancient races… they were figures from his mother’s bedtime stories, as mythical as the Old Gods themselves. But to Kael, they were a tangible, lurking threat.
“Besides,” Kael continued, a softer note in his voice, “it would be a tragedy to let such a gift waste away here. You’re not truly content living as a plainsman, are you?”
Finn's gaze dropped to his hands. Kael had seen through his carefully constructed indifference. After a long moment, a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
“Your mother’s fears, while understandable, are largely exaggerated for someone of your immense power. A common knight walks a perilous path, yes. But the Great Houses extend a certain respect, even deference, to those who wield true might. You… you would be safe enough.” Kael’s voice softened further. “As safe as anyone can be in the Shattered Lands, that is. There are no absolutes in this world.”
A torrent of thoughts crashed through Finn’s mind. A part of him yearned to believe Kael’s words, to embrace the possibility of purpose beyond the plateau. Yet, the deep, ingrained fear of nobles, of power, of the unknown, refused to release its hold. They clashed, belief and fear, creating a heavy tension within him.
Kael sat patiently, his bandaged head leaning against the crude wall, silently waiting. The seconds stretched into minutes. Finally, Finn spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
“What could I… what could I gain, if I went down there?”
Kael’s smile returned, genuine this time, a glint of hope in his tired eyes. “That, young Finn, depends entirely on what your heart truly desires. Influence. Wealth. Purpose. Perhaps even family, or friendship. Things that, I believe, this lonely plateau cannot offer.”