Smoky black trees rushed by in a blur as the hunting party pursued their dinner. Ahead, just out of sight, a buck sprinted and weaved through the trees as he attempted to escape. Rapid puffs of condensated breath escaped the creature as it rushed forward, near panic.

Vachir was hungry. Sure, he had rations back at camp but… meat. Oh, sweet, wonderful meat. Venison was exceedingly rare in the southern empires. It was only acquired through trade by air or landship from the fertile lands of the Northern Tribes. Their ample forests and plains, tucked safely away from the other empires behind the foreboding Eternal Mountains, were perfect ground for hunting and grazing.

Even someone as high in the military hierarchy as Vachir was rarely treated to such a treat as was now running a few strides ahead of him. The feral looks on the faces of his men as they moved to encircle the creature told him they all felt the same.

The broken moon hadn’t yet come up. Twilight had only just passed, but the darkness of the Black Forest was otherworldly. As soon as the sun set, it seemed blackness dashed away any joy they could hope for. It was as if the trees were mocking them. Holding back the light and forcing them to suffer prolonged nights.

Their torches were beacons against the abyss, casting long shadows in every direction. The sounds of fire competing with rushing air were like paper ripping through the night. Heavy breathing, crunching of underbrush, fire, wind. It was frightening and invigorating all at once for Vachir.

Ahead, their firelight brightened to reveal a small bluff just three or four meters high, but steep enough that the creature wouldn’t escape. Vachir and his soldiers, winded, slowed to a trot, happy for the rest. Working with military precision, they slowly closed in a semi circle against the cliff face.

Hunting deer in the Black Forest was not unlike hunting wild war boars in the swamps around his home town of Chimelta. Encircling the meter high creatures was the best way to ensure nobody died. Their tusks would rend a man in half in a matter of seconds. Unlike the swamps of Chimelta though, this place was choked with trees and darkness.

The warmth of childhood memories faded. The group was drawing near for the kill. Ahead, the buck leapt again and again, attempting to scale the small cliff. Clouds of dust from the crumbling bluff were enshrouding the creature with each failed attempt. Vachir knelt down and unslung his rifle, giving the signal for his soldiers to do the same, though he was sure of his own marksmanship.

It was time to put the frightened animal out of its misery. Soon, they would be eating hearty. He pushed the stock tightly against his shoulder and took aim at the still struggling buck. He’d only have a few seconds before the dust thickened too much and they would all be forced to fire blindly, tainting the succulent meat with very untasty bullets. His finger tensed on the trigger.

“Well, this hardly seems to be a fair hunt,” came a strange voice in the darkness.

Startled, Vachir fired, missing wide and high. The sound was enough to frighten the creature up the small crevice his panicked clawing had created. It found the break in the cliff face and scaled the wall. It quickly disappeared into the forest, cracking twigs and rustling leaves as it ran.

Vachir would have been upset if he wasn’t so fixated on the figure that slid effortlessly down the small cliff ahead of him. Removing its hood, before him stood… what he could only describe as a “cat man.”

***

Jim turned his head, distracted from much more pleasurable pursuits for a moment. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

Alia sighed, “No, but if you don’t get back in this sleeping bag, you’ll have lots of time alone to investigate it.”

He quickly re-prioritized his life goals and forgot he’d heard anything.

***

“Greetings, Vachir, general of the Free Citizens Federation, commander of Third Army Group,” the cat man began, bowing slightly. “Welcome to my home.”

Vachir was in a state of disbelief. He replied slowly, with his rifle still aimed, “Who… what are you? And how do you know my name and rank?” The soldiers around had also quickly forgotten the hunt and were training their weapons on the strange talking creature. Each was an experienced killer, ready to fire on command.

The figure smiled, his sharp white teeth gleaming in the torchlight. “My name is Emat of the Ll’tal. As for your name and title, that would take a bit more explaining,” he replied calmly.

Vachir was silent. Still smiling, Emat added, “And I’d ask that you lower your weapons. We mean you no harm, but it would be quite difficult to carry on a conversation with these crude sticks pointed at my face.”

“We?” Sergeant Grell asked. He was standing to Vachir’s right, weapon still fixed on Emat.

The cat man sighed and nodded toward a space behind the soldier. “They are.”

Suddenly, the forest was much less empty and quiet. Springing from seemingly nowhere, thirty or forty more cat people appeared. Each held a glowing green stone in one hand. The area was instantly awash in a muted green light. None appeared to be armed otherwise, however.

Vachir and his men were thrust into a very difficult situation. The Ll’tal, though seemingly without weapons, were much more numerous. He wasn’t one to surrender without a fight though.

His soldiers held their weapons, ready to fight and possibly die. Each man and woman’s face had written on them many near death experiences in the horrors of war. There were no recruits here. Only hardened veterans.

Emat nodded to a Ll’tal behind Lieutenant Colonel Mason. One of them stepped forward and waved a hand. All at once, the torches of their small group were snuffed out. Awakened!? What the hell? Vachir thought with a mix of curiosity and alarm.

He considered his options for a moment. They could put up a fight against this many unarmed opponents, but if even one of them was an awakened, and one certainly was, their chances of survival slimmed tremendously. Perhaps these creatures were the reason nobody escaped the Black Forest? Vachir sighed inwardly. Awakened… cats? I’m getting too old for this.

Slowly, he lowered his weapon. His men soon followed. Vachir glanced at Sandra, who had complied and was keeping her rifle pointed down. Her white knuckles told another story though.

Emat chuckled, “No need for concern, young woman. You all may keep your weapons. We have no wish to confiscate such… things. I do suggest you avoid using them though. You are not our prisoners.”

“Stand down,” Vachir commanded the group. All of them, especially Sandra, were still on edge, but they were well trained. Each shouldered their weapon. Some slung them behind their backs. Others were content to continue to hold them barrel down, but all were careful not to appear menacing. Professionals, Vachir mused proudly to himself.

“Let’s start with the obvious questions,” Vachir began. “Who… and what are you?”

Emat smiled and replied, “I told you. I am Emat. We are the Ll’tal.”

Vachir replied, “But you aren’t… human.”

“A keen observation, my young Maal Warrior. For a third time, we are the Ll’tal. This forest is our home. My people have inhabited this place, which you and your kind call the ‘Black Forest’, for over ten thousand years,” he replied.

Vachir’s head was swimming with questions. He clasped his shaking hands behind his back. The adrenaline of the chase was wearing off. Calmly, he asked, “But, how is it nobody has ever spoken of you? I know of more than a few adventurers who tried their fortunes at exploring The Black Forest. None have returned.”

“And yet,” Emat replied, “You ventured into it anyways. Did you think you possessed some insight into this place that many others did not? Are you and those who follow you greater warriors than those that came before?”

Vachir shook his head, “No, but I’m not here to prove myself. I…” He paused. He’d only just met this strange being and had nearly divulged his entire mission to him.

Emat chuckled, “I should warn you, as a Maal warrior of the sky, your thoughts are open to me. Try not to think so loudly.” Vachir was stunned. Even as a prime of air, he couldn’t read others’ thoughts unless he was in physical contact with them.

How is that possible? Is he a prime of air as well? He thought.

Emat’s kind smile didn’t waver as he replied, “To answer that question, I will need a little more time. May we accompany you back to your camp?” He presented a large leather sack that had been hidden away from somewhere beneath his earthen cloak. He pinched the tightly bound strap with two claws and pulled open the attached flap.

Inside, at least two kilos of freshly cut bacon sat, carefully wrapped in some sort of large green leaf. Vachir caught a glimpse of eggs, berries, and assorted nuts too. His stomach grumbled in excitement. Around the group, other Ll’tal opened similar sacks and presented them to the salivating soldiers. Even Sandra Mason broke her rigid composure long enough to stare longingly at the contents.

Sergeant Grell spoke up, “For that much bacon, I surrender. Do with me as you please.” Some of the group chuckled nervously.

Vachir wasn’t sure why, but Emat and his Ll’tal didn’t frighten him at all. In fact, he was surprisingly at ease. The immediate emergency was over. Although the entire situation was bizarre, every soldier lived by a strict code, “Bacon is a gift from the gods. One must never refuse a gift from the gods.”

He nodded to Sandra who gestured toward Emat. “Follow me,” came her stern command. Vachir spotted the glint of hungry longing in her eyes and chuckled quietly. A gift from the gods indeed.

***

It was nearing midnight. Finally, the broken moon had begun its ascent from the east. It drifted lazily across the treetops, its slowly turning ring glittering and dancing in the sky. Its cool, milky light shone rays through the smoke of the group’s late night bonfire, casting a warm glow on their satisfied faces.

Despite the strangeness of the Ll’tal, they were friendly and welcoming. Many of them had been hard at work, cooking the bacon and eggs in small, portable stone pans. The smell of meat and exotic fruits hung thick in the air. The tension had dissolved into the night. Now, everyone ate, laughed, and relaxed.

“This is what I call a ‘midnight snack’,” one of the soldiers joked.

Sandra replied, “Don’t stuff your face too much, Private Huntley. We have a lot more ground to cover if…” Her voice trailed off as Vachir shifted his attention to Emat.

The old Ll’tal was hunched over a cleared plate, watching the people around him with a smile. Interrupting his train of thought, Vachir asked, “Emat, can you tell me more of your people and why you’re here?”

Emat coughed for a few moments and nodded. “Yes, I suppose, this must all be most unsettling.”

Vachir agreed, although he and his soldiers were quite relaxed after gorging themselves. The Ll’tal had a way of easing one’s worries.

Emat swept his hands over the group, “As I said before, we are the Ll’tal. We’ve lived in this forest for many centuries.”

One of the soldiers nearby spoke, “But, why has nobody ever heard of you?”

Emat shrugged, “Perhaps because we stay quiet. Perhaps because we don’t want to make ourselves known… yet. Of course, it could be the dragons.”

His last word drew everyone’s attention. The group fell silent. “Dragons?” Vachir asked.

“Dragons,” Emat replied.

Sandra asked between bites, “You’re joking, right? Those are creatures of myth. Many parents, my own included, tell their children stories of the great dragons of the north. They make for pretty great bedtime tales but… well, they’re just stories.”

Some of the men around the fire grunted and nodded. None looked entirely convinced though. After all, they were sharing midnight breakfast with a bunch of cat people. If they existed, why not dragons?

Emat chuckled. It quickly developed into a cough. The wheezing and hacking betrayed his ancient age. After resting against a nearby tree for a moment, he replied, “I think you will find, a great many myths are based in facts. This is the way time moves among humans. Facts become history which becomes legend, which becomes myth, which becomes eventually forgotten.”

The group had mostly settled down, content to enjoy their food. Emat motioned to them that he was going to tell a story. Thanks to the excessive amounts of eggs and bacon, Sergeant Grell, and everybody else had indeed surrendered to the requests of their “enemy.” All lounged against packs and bedrolls as he spoke.

Emat stretched his hands outward and began, “My children, there is a great awakening taking place in the world of men. Even now, the early signs are all around.” He nodded to Vachir and added, “Your leader is just such proof in fact. You call him an ‘awakened of air.’ We call him a ‘Maal Warrior of Sky.’ The two are one and the same.”

Sweeping his hand across the group, he added, “The Maal power is well known to the Ll’tal. Each of us possesses it. What very few of your people are blessed with, each of us has naturally in our blood.”

Vachir interrupted, “Wait. You’re telling me, all of you are awakened?”

Emat grinned, suppressing a laugh for fear of another coughing fit, “Yes. Observe.” He commanded the assembled Ll’tal in an unknown language. Each held out a hand toward the fire. The fire began to spin in an impossibly slow moving vortex. It was as if the orange flames were trapped in time, moving at a crawl.

Emat issued another command. A single Ll’tal stepped forward and stretched both hands outward. Around them, the treeline, previously quiet, began to vibrate violently. The humans shot up from their sitting positions in alarm. Pine needles and leaves fell like snow around them. Suddenly, the vibrating stopped and the trees slid slowly away from them, increasing the size of the clearing by a dozen meters. It was like watching landships float lazily across the desert.

Emat turned to Vachir and commented, “Perhaps, you would like to show the others your Maal of air.” Vachir shook his head slowly. He knew how uncomfortable his powers made non awakened. Loyal soldiers or not, he didn’t want to put his men in that position.

Specialist Hartzell spoke up, still not turning his gaze from the beautiful display of the fire vortex, “It’s fine, sir. To be perfectly honest, I’ve always wanted to see you use it, you know, in a capacity other than wandering through my memories.”

Vachir looked at the others who were also nodding. “Ok, you asked for it,” he sighed. He turned his palms skyward. Awakened power appeared to spark from his eyes. Quickly, a cloud formed above the treetops. In seconds, it had grown to a localized tempest. The tops of the trees swayed around the clearing while creatures of the night chirped and cried in protest. At ground level though, it was as calm as ever.

Suddenly, the fire, still crawling along in a vortex of controlled awakened power, was whipped into a fiery tornado. The pillar of flame shot skyward into the clouds above, illuminating them. Still, nobody could even feel the slightest breeze as the churning winds were carefully confined to a tiny area on and above the bonfire.

The blazing night fire retreated from the glowing coals as the last of it was lapped upward. The cloud above glowed flickered a final flash of bright orange. Then, it was done. Vachir lowered his hands, allowing the unnatural storm to dissipate. Silence returned to the forest, and his soldiers stared in awe at their commanding officer.

Not usually shy, Vachir quietly sat back down and noted, “Perhaps I overdid it, for a first time.” Secretly, he felt happier than he had in years. He’d never shown his power in front of anyone except other priests. They were slaves of the Prophetess though, unable to feel any emotion other than hate and rage.

Weeks earlier, as he led the squadrons of awakened priests in firebugs on their ill fated attack upon the Liberator, he’d been able to use the full extent of his power. Despite his sorrow at felling so many free awakened, he’d felt like an animal free of its cage. The same feeling filled him as the awakened surge drained from his veins.

Emat and the other Ll’tal appeared to be quite comfortable with the awakened display. Many laughed and cheered, encouraging him in their strange language. Still, the humans in the group continued to stare.

When the cheering Ll’tal quieted down, Sergeant Grell asked, “Permission to speak freely, sir?” Vachir sighed and nodded at his third in command, preparing for the worst. Sergeant Grell motioned to the other soldiers, “I think I speak for all the men and women here when I say, holy SHIT, sir. That was amazing! I’ve always known you were a prime of air, but DAMN.” The assembled soldiers all laughed and nodded, each complimenting their leader.

Seeing the response of his men put Vachir at ease, even if only slightly.

Emat clapped his paws together in an emulated applause. Still smiling, he commented, “As a soldier, I imagine your Maal gives you a tremendous advantage in battle.”

Sandra Mason replied before Vachir could. “Actually, he’s not allowed to use it.”

Emat’s face contorted into something resembling confusion, “But, you are a soldier, and I know enough of mankind’s ways to know your people are almost always in conflict with each other. Surely you have used your Maal against others?”

Vachir shook his head and replied, “No. The Prophetess forbids me and others like me from using it in service of our governments.”

The old Ll’tal nodded and replied, “Ahh, yes. The witch. You are a servant of hers then?” Vachir could tell by Emat’s tone that he already knew the answer to that. He was asking for the benefit of Vachir’s men.

Vachir stared into the fire which had been re-ignited by one of the Ll’tal awakened. He answered, “No. And yes. No, I am not a slave to her, and yes, I and others like me are forced to operate under her laws.”

Leaning forward, he explained, “Both the Federation and Alliance have a liaison to the Prophetess and The Holy Land. In exchange for our freedom from her… influence, we are allowed to serve our militaries and communicate her wishes to its leadership. We’re forbidden from using our abilities in battle against each other, however. The only times I have been allowed to use my powers were on official assignments for the Prophetess and never in the sight of my men.”

“So, displaying your power to us in the sight of your soldiers just now was a breach of that promise?” Emat asked.

Vachir considered his response. How much would he tell them? He glanced at Sandra, expecting to see hesitation. Surprisingly, she nodded at him. We’re going to need allies soon anyways, he thought to himself, forgetting again that Emat could apparently hear his thoughts.

“We no longer serve the Prophetess… in any capacity.” he replied, adding, “she has betrayed what little trust the Federation placed in her. I’ve recently… learned that even now, she’s preparing a massive invasion of our homeland, and after we’re gone, the rest of Ruin.”

One of the soldiers added, “And then, the world.”

“And what of the two humans that you pursue through these woods?” Emat asked.

Vachir paused and stared at the old Ll’tal in disbelief. “What do you know of them?” he asked.

Emat smiled and replied, “I know their names are Jim and Alia. They are powerful Maal warriors such as yourself. More powerful than you know, I suspect. They are the reason we came to you. You see, you all are about to collide with destiny.”

Emat leaned forward and stared at Vachir and his troops through the fire. From beneath his cloak, he presented a green stone. It looked identical to those of the Ll’tal gathered around.

The flames danced and leapt, their reflections playing in Emat’s aging eyes as he asked, “Will you place your hand upon this stone? We have much to discuss and little time to spare.”

***

Vachir stared into the embers of the muted bonfire. It had died, but the glow was still bright enough to illuminate the faces of the sleeping men and Ll’tal around him. His face was wracked with remorse.

He turned to Emat who also sat, staring into the fire with an equally forlorn gaze. Vachir whispered in his newly learned Ll’tal, careful not to wake those around them, “Emat, there has to be another way. I… I can’t. I’d be branded a traitor… a coward.”

Emat sighed and grabbed a small stick stoking the spent firewood. It responded with a small blue flame that crawled across its surface and promptly disappeared.

Turning to Vachir, he replied, “I’ve been in your mind. Your… soul. I know how important things like duty, honor, and integrity are to you. I would not ask you to complete such a task if so much were not at stake. Vachir, you must play your part in the destiny of our world.”

Vachir shook his head. His whisper was trailing dangerously close to speaking, “I can’t do it, Emat. I can’t be responsible for so many lives lost.” He buried his head in his hands, crushed under the weight of what Emat had revealed to him.

Emat grabbed Vachir’s hand and spoke directly to his mind, I know you want to fight, and fight you will. But there will come a moment in the coming days when you must make a choice. When all is crumbling around you, only a single life will matter. The decision you make will determine the future of all Ll’tal and mankind.

I don’t envy you this task, Vachir, but when the time comes, you must leave them all to save she who shapes our future.

Tell no one of this, my friend. The prophecy is all that matters.