I could feel the goblin’s… soul almost like boiling stream water in a pot only the pure essence floated out. Within my mind, it felt like a little pebble had been dropped in a pond and settled right between my eyes. This little pebble began devouring this essence as if overcome by gluttony. After eating with all its might the pebble began to rumble with an energy that reminded me of a priest’s right that blessed our crops before parts began to flake and reveal a smooth beautiful obsidian stone half the size of the pebble it was before.

The budding horns, on the top of my head, began to grow again but this time there was no pain nor blood, in fact it felt as if an old wound was healing all over, but also almost like pins and needles. As a feeling of freshness washed over me I was back to the sandy pit but someone else had come inside too.

I could finally see the man with a booming voice, a hulking man with a face not quite like a goat but like no man either, wispy gray hair covering his head completely with the number of scars scattered along his body. You'd think him a battle marred specter if not for the aura that pressed upon you like gathering boulders. As he stood there, he seemed leisurely but his eyes showed he was still alert, with full leather armor on and a large executioner style sword on his back that seemed as if it could snap a tree with a light swing. He stared at me as if analyzing every hair on my head and thread on my torn shirt.

“Truly the son of an alpha from the wolf tribe, your horns look almost like a simplistic crown. You’ve grown some claws but that is common for the first adaptation, however, the extra concentration of aura in your legs and faint wisps of magic aren’t. As the chief of this tribe I now name you Kane in memory of our brethren who have died by our hands for being too weak, may you grow to bless the forest with pride and let all behold your strength.” He finally said after a long while.

“Who are you? What do you mean ‘name me’? I already have one and what tribe?” I feel like I’m going crazy. What the hell is going on now, if I had just been cured it would have been simpler. I want to yell but under his aura, it was hard enough asking what I did.

“Yes, yes I know you wouldn’t understand from living with them but here under the Tree of The Fallen is the only place for respite with fanatics on one side and the real evils among the Slumbering Sumit. Now stop staring at me like I’m some demon and follow me out of here into the clan. My name is Anir, named after the wind, and I shall explain why you needed a new one briefly.” His aura faded into the background as he walked out the door into the light.

‘I guess I don’t have much of a choice, I mean in stories even heroes feared what nests in the mountain. What’s with that name though “Anir, named after the wind” sounds familiar but I suppose names are sometimes life’s irony with that massive sword he had he must be a slow fighter’. Reluctantly I walk through the sheet of light and a tree larger than a castle comes into sight, aged and withered this smokey silver tree looked as if it were grasping up at the sky in contrast to the body of the tree there appeared to be large violet flowers with tiny teal fruits. Lastly, there was a small stream coming out of the trunk flowing down the middle of the village with an inky black ichor.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Come on, we'll be walking to the meeting hall, don’t worry it’s in the mountains. These few hovels are just for scouts and gatherers to take shifts; the village is mostly within the stone of the mountain behind the tree.” I suppose I can hope for something more in the caves since the few homes I see are made crudely out of sticks and mud. “Stop looking at our craftsmanship like that, they had to be like that since the tree's roots are weaved into them. Then again I don’t understand much of it. The leader of the Elf tribe is the head craftsman, now anything he makes would surely blow any human contraptions you’ve seen out of the water.”.

As he kept trying to defend how bad everything looked out here I was stuck on the one line “the Elf tribe”. Every story I had heard about them had been of the origin of mortal life and ancient oppressors of other mortals. They were said to have been overthrown and all killed with only a few escaping underground, mutating their once pure glossy white skin into leathery charcoal and their noble ears becoming grotesque messes of flesh. When I saw an entrance that was off-putting by its symmetry like a perfect square in the stone wall, I feared he forgot to tell me about this name thing but just as I was about to ask he stopped and got serious again.

He stared right at me “Alright kid enough banter before we enter you must understand your name. Those not born under the will of nature very rarely have parents who can sense the name of their soul which is given by nature and will allow one to truly use the power within. Now your’s is special. Most of the time we must perform a ritual to peer into the soul but it was as if the tree were screaming for you, all who were near the Tree of the Fallen had heard it say that “the second coming of Kane would soon arrive”. Before you ask, no one holds records of anyone by that name, so nature might be the only one who remembers them.”. He didn’t really need to state the last part as some of his aura which I had begun to forget started leaking.

I nodded and we headed in but his aura didn’t fully disperse like before instead forming the remnants at the back of my neck like a bony had as if to keep me walking. Following the eerily perfect square hallway of smooth stone, we approached a campfire’s comforting orange light. The end of this corridor had large double doors both heavily ornamented and held open by a deer Wild One and a violet-skinned… Elf.

Anir whispered into my ear “These are the two disciples of both tribes. The one with antlers staring you down is Catox my disciple and the elf trying to look all knightly is Adar, he’s Lotir’s disciple.”. ‘I guess Lotir must be the elvish chief then but where…’.

Before I finished my thought Anir began so loud I thought it was cannon fire “Welcome of a new brother. Guided here by the Tree of The Fallen. As such his name given by nature’s will is Kane in honor of our fallen brothers whose deaths lie on our shoulders and in our hands for being too weak to prevent.”. Though honestly scared by the yell and the ensuing cheering I was able to make out a massive… dwarvish style drinking hall. At the end of the hall, there were two seats one was simplistic and empty while the other was heavily ornamented, within which sat a spindly dark blue man with bright lines glowing like purple magma staring me square in the face. He was the only one who was not cheering in the hall.