Interlude: The Great Spirit

The winter air felt crisp in Woya's lungs as he breathed deeply. He had spent most of his morning strolling through the forest, and now the Great Tree lay up ahead. While it would have been easy to travel through the skies, he preferred the walk for its spiritual significance—a pilgrimage of sorts.

Approaching the tree, Woya tossed back the beaded curtain in the entrance alongside a thick braid of his white hair. Instantly, the surrounding air grew warm, a stark contrast to the sharp coolness of winter that he enjoyed.

The inside of the tree glowed warmly. Runes carved into the ground below cast around yellow light. It was meant to evoke feelings of sunshine, of happiness. Woya knew better.

"You have roused me from my slumber, little Dove," the voice echoed, seeming to emanate from every corner yet nowhere at all.

The sound unsettled Woya. Each visit to commune with the Great Spirit was a risk, especially when he bore only troubling news to share.

“Great Kachina, I bring sour news. Utsidihi discovered a reject tribe beneath the ground,” said Woya.

"They must be enlightened in the ways of the Great Tree, of the Great Spirit," echoed the commanding voice, resonating through Woya's mind, causing him to flinch.

"Indeed, Great Spirit. Unfortunately, the reject tribe did not heed Utsidihi's call," Woya replied with a tinge of frustration.

If the barbarian even extended an offer, Woya silently questioned.

"Fret not. There will come a time to sway them. Each addition to our tribe brings us closer to convergence," the Great Spirit reassured, though Woya braced himself for what was to come.

"The tribe resisted Utsidihi's advances, and he obliterated them, Great Kachina," Woya delivered the news, his heart heavy with the burden of it.

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The warmth and light within the Great Tree dimmed, a palpable shift in atmosphere.

"Corpses serve us not!" the voice thundered. "I have nurtured this tribe from nothing, and yet I am treated as a fool!"

Woya braced himself as an invisible force seized him, hurtling him against the inner wall of the Great Tree with a bone-jarring impact. The rush of wind drowned out all other sounds, echoing in his ears.

"You will summon Utsidihi! Bring him before the Great Tree!" the voice bellowed within Woya's mind.

"Of course, Great Kachina! The convergence demands it!" Woya shouted, struggling against the force of the Great Spirit's command.

"Be gone!" With a final command, Woya was thrust aside, flung out into the frigid embrace of the snow-covered ground.

This is the last time I do a favor for Utsidihi, Woya thought with a pained grunt, and returned to his feet.

Woya had told the obstinate warrior that the Great Spirit would almost certainly want to speak with him directly. He activated [Sky Walk] and pushed himself through the air. Some time later, he found himself above a jumble of tents, stretching for hundreds of meters. The occasional wooden watch post towered above the tents below.

In the heart of the sprawling encampment stood a cathedral-like structure, a solitary reminder of the town that once thrived there.

Guiding himself through the air, Woya made his way toward the cathedral, its imposing form drawing him closer.

With a graceful descent, Woya alighted on the ground, greeted by a dark-skinned man stationed outside the cathedral doors.

"The mighty Dove returns," the doorkeeper remarked.

With a nod, Woya pushed past the man, not in the mood for pleasantries.

Inside, upon a raised dais, sat five men arranged in a semicircle atop a massive runic array pulsating with energy. Wisps of power extended outward, trailing through the cathedral doors.

"Utsidihi!" Woya's voice echoed through the chamber.

One of the seated men lifted his head. "Woya, you've returned. What did the Great Kachina decree?"

"I warned you, Utsidihi. You must undertake the pilgrimage yourself. I cannot speak on your behalf. The Great Kachina demands it," Woya declared firmly.

A scowl darkened Utsidihi's features. "Very well, brother."

Woya recognized that expression all too well. It signaled trouble. Giving Utsidihi a wide berth, he retreated to the sidelines as the warrior rose from his place on the runic array.

With a scowl, Utsidihi descended from the dais, passing Woya without a word.

As Utsidihi stormed through the doorway, the doorkeeper spoke up. “The mighty Warrior must attend his own business, surely?”

Utsidihi’s open hand cleanly passed through the doorman’s neck, followed by his head falling to the ground. The doorman’s body crumpled moments after.

"I rather liked him," Woya remarked, watching the scene unfold.

Utsidihi offered no response as he stomped away, his rage evident.