Rain has always had a mysterious way of bringing everything to a peaceful state of calm. Even after the most dire of circumstances.

Steam and smoke obscure the burnt wasteland that lies before me. Yet piercing the veil are rows, upon rows, of scorched trees, now tall and barren tombstones. Their striking black form cannot be hidden so easily within the ashen cloud.

Staring face to face with the grim disaster, I search for answers. Having now committed two grave atrocities, I have a lot of soul searching to do. Even if I tell myself, it was an accident, or it was in self-defense, the end result remains the same. Complete one-sided destruction.

I instinctively run my claws over my chest where my necklace would be, before remembering that the once familiar weight is no longer there.

Sigh

How can all of this even be possible? Why am I alone such an impossible outlier? A death-defying being with a nearly limitless well of essence. From an outside perspective, all of this would be considered a miracle, yet I can't help but feel like an existence that doesn't belong. None of this is natural. But these are the cards I have been dealt. And I need to face the consequences of my actions.

… Consequences.

There's just something about that word that gets me thinking.

Isn't empathy a quality that has its roots within humanity? If any other creature were in my shoes, would they be suffering as much as I am right now? Would they not just move on? But I guess that is a quality which separates me from being a true monster. This remorse I'm feeling, in a sense I now realize I'm grateful for it.

I take a look down at myself. What I see is a sad mess, disheveled and unkempt. Where is the Alistair that braved the dragon's jaws and fought his way to freedom? What would that version of me say if he witnessed me in such a pitiful state?

Slowly I lift myself from the muddied earth and look once more towards the devastated forest, this time with a brand new perspective.

There's a lot I can do, that much I know now. This time I'll do better.

Finally putting one foot in front of the other, I leave the shelter of the oak and depart into the wilderness. For where I want to go, there's only one path that I know for sure is safe. Straight through the burned remains of the forest. Arriving to the ashen fog that marks the boundary, I step across without hesitation.

My destination is to return back to the river, there I will carve out a place where I belong. From there I can take my time truly understanding what is around me, and just as important, understand the mysteries that surround me. Perhaps then can I avoid making another tragic mistake that I will be forced to live with.

Thinking of my plans, I reflect back on my time in that underground grotto. Recalling the silly workstations I had, making use out of simple rocks to make the necklace that I was so proud of. Nearby there was the pile of failed prototypes from when I tried to make a hook. The frustration I felt every time a piece would snap. I had it in such a neat little pile, one that Koko always took such glee in playing in. Watching him run around the cave in excitement…

For a second I stop moving

I was so distracted with thinking how and when I would get out of that mess, that I missed the big picture. I want to capture that feeling again. The comfort of having a home.

Feeling like a fool, I shake my head and keep moving.

I'm not sure how long it took, but eventually I arrive to the other end of the charred wastes. Stepping out of the gray cloud, I am once again beholden to a world filled with lush colors. Looking around, I am relieved to recognize where I'm at. If memory serves me right, the orothus territory is uphill and to the left. That must mean if I keep heading straight, I'll arrive back to the river. I made it! And thank my lucky stars that the wildfire didn't reach any further. To be honest, I expected the fire to make it as far as the river, but it would seem the timely intervention of the rain stopped it in its tracks.

Walking upon the soft grass of the untarnished forest, my steps leave behind black footprints, only for the ongoing rain to wash them away soon after. Little by little, the accumulated ash and soot that has built up on my feathers finally begins to wash away with the rain. It's funny, for how drenched I am, I feel as light as I've ever been.

For good measure I inhale deeply, taking in the familiar fragrance of the forest. I'm met with a sweet earthly smell, amplified further by the fresh tones of the rain. It's truly good to be back. The only thing that is missing is the chorus of wildlife in the background. Quite reasonable to assume that they all must have fled for safety when the wildfire came. In time, maybe things will return to normal.

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I instinctively give my body a shake to shed off all the water that's building up. After walking in the rain for so long, I'm starting to get a chill. For now, lets find a nice tree to rest under. After a bit of searching, I find another grand and ancient oak that vaguely reminds me of the one I found before. The incredible girth of the burly trunk speaks volumes of its age. Strong branches extend out far in every direction, the likes of which too old and rigid to sway freely to the whims of a simple breeze. Swathes of ivy coat the tops of the branches, giving the behemoth of a tree a gentle appearance.

What a gorgeous sight.

Without waiting any longer, I make my way up the tree and secure a spot close to the center. Leaning against the trunk of the tree eases my burdens, and already I feel a sense of safety. As if the tree were a silent bodyguard, promising no harm will come to those within its sanctuary.

Looking out, the rain continues to fall with a rhythmic patter, one that nearly lulls me to sleep. It takes a great effort on my part to ignore such a temptation, instead I decide to see to my own state of being. Chiefly, my shaggy appearance. So I begin taking my feathers, one at a time, and begin preening them. The rain managed to get most of the nasty grime off my coat, but the rest I will have to take care of myself. It's a slow process, but I don't mind. Having something to focus on right now with the ambiance of the growing storm just outside is just what the doctor ordered. Occasionally a piercing breeze courses straight through me, sending fresh waves of chills. They only serve as a temporary and negligible interruption to my work. Eventually I get so lost in the process that even the fall of rain becomes muted in the background.

With the last of my feathers clean, I take a good look at myself. The crimson hue that came after my victory over Big Jonas still remains, much to my confusion. I think I can let it slide however, for after a thorough cleaning, they practically shine with chromatic brilliance. Contrasting with the ruby color, a sharp black pattern cuts clean lines on the edges of my wings and the tips of my tail feathers, creating a pleasant motif that breaks the monotones of red. All-in-all, I'm very satisfied, and dare I say, proud of my work.

Lightning surprises me when I see the canopy in the distance flash white, bringing with it a faint rumbling after a few seconds.

I was thinking of heading to the river, maybe now's now the best time. What else is there to do? It feels wasteful to sit here when there is still plenty of hours left in the day. Plus I really want to keep doing something, anything. I really don't want to be idle right now.

…

I could practice my magic.

…

I really shouldn't… What if I mess up again? Every time I've tried to use this essence within my body, something terrible has happened. Wait. Has there really been nothing that I've accomplished? Seriously? I mean there was the time where I sprinkled some essence on that tree and a bunch of plants grew, but they went absolutely feral later…

No, no, don't think like that, not now.

Alright, I've decided, so help me I'm going to do something productive with my magic. Let's first make some observations. 'Magic' as the impossible phenomenon I know it, happens when essence is involved. More specifically, when it drawn from one's body and… I don't know, shaped? For Koko, it was always something involving a force of wind. Was there a reason he only did that? Unfortunately, the only other creature that I have seen use magic is that tortoise, so my controls that I can compare with are… limited. I really should give her a name, she is someone I want to see again after all and it seems rude to only refer to her as a tortoise. For now I'm going to start calling her Gaia. A suitable name given the state I found her in and her general aloofness.

Anyways, I have only seen Gaia use her tricks to influence what I'm thinking and feeling. I don't know if she is capable of doing anything else. It's too early to draw conclusions that creatures capable of magic can only do one aspected thing, but I have a hunch that there's something of that sort going on.

There's also the matter of quantity. Given the reaction of damn near every creature that has come into contact with it, it strikes me as a precious resource that only a select few have. Maybe it's also a tolerance thing, considering the lizard I met had signs of mutation when I collected its body. And those plants, they mutated into mini-cannibalistic monsters that were at each other's throats, presumably to keep whatever ambient essence remained to themselves. But then why didn't the creeping mushrooms behave in a similar way? Was it because there was no competition? Hmm. Again I feel like I have too little information.

Or is there? I vaguely remember when I was in that out of body experience that the trees and those ivory apes each had their own network of essence flowing inside. Granted the former had much less than the latter, that of which still paled in comparison to me. I mean I already gathered that I was different, but it elaborates the point that everything here contains essence to at least some degree. Despite this, not everything in these woods are completely monstrous, if the plants only went crazy because they were infused with essence, wouldn't this forest be a wildly different place? So maybe it really is a tolerance thing, or perhaps a threshold. Has it the world always been like this?

I haven't even started practicing yet, and my brain already hurts.

Okay, lets perform some very basic tests. For this I climb down the tree and sit down at the base of it. No need to get my new home involved in a potential mess if I can avoid it. For this test I want to 'water' two of the same plants with different levels of essence. Only after a quick scan around I find two ferns that look like they are a part of the same species.

I'm keeping it very simple, I just want to draw the essence out of my body in it's raw form, just like when I did so last night. For this first one, I'm going to try and give it the tiniest amount I can muster, while the other I am going to give slightly more.

I've learned so far that it's easier to do so when I'm calm and collected. Easy enough with all of the rain muting any potential distractions. So after I take a few deep breathes and focus, I try to channel the ley lines of essence within my body to my will. Immediately I find it much more difficult than before, and discover that it is no longer as plentiful as it once was. While I can still detect it flowing, it would be like comparing a tiny brook to a mighty river. It takes many attempts just to grab a small thread of essence and direct it, and even greater focus to control how much I'm releasing. Finally I manage to conjure a single wisp of essence that disappears into the fronds. Instantly the individual blades become straight and crisp, each turning a shade richer in color. Little shoots emerge from the soil that quickly turn into tiny little sprouts. After a couple more seconds, the changes slow down and stabilize.

Walking around on all sides, it seems the growth managed to stay isolated on the fern itself, and nothing too drastic happened. No flowers or unusual developments, seems like a good sign.

Moving on to the next one, I repeat much of the same process. This time however, I allow more essence to spill out, causing me to get a bit lightheaded. It's not so bad that I am forced to stop, so I let it continue. Thin traces of the miraculous lifeblood leak into the fern as well as the surroundings and the growth is beyond instantaneous. Unlike the first trial, the fern itself has grown ivy-like vines that descend to the ground and pierce the soil as if they were roots. Other areas stem out and blossom into a colorful array of green and blue flowers. Remembering what happened last time, I take a couple steps back from the deceitfully elegant display. I have my doubts that it will remain as such. Some other plants that I don't recognize begin to shoot up around the area where I supplied some essence, but nothing is too out of control. I'll check back up on this area later

As I finish my last few mental notes and observations, I failed to notice something approach the shade of the matriarchal oak. Coming into view is a creature I recognize, the ragged battle-scarred orothus that interfered with the one that attacked me. I'm frozen stiff, too stunned to react to the sudden arrival of such a dangerous creature. The twin pair of amber eyes each stare at me with unreadable expressions. The only thing that stands between me and this creature is the essence infused fern, the realization of which causes my blood to run cold.

The wolf head leans it's mighty head down

Sniff, sniff

After a pause, it stares me down with cold gaze.