The crackling fire outside the small shelter cast long, flickering shadows across the rough-hewn walls of the simple lean-to. It's warmth was an appreciated distraction from the cold of the night outside and the freezing, gaze with in.
Femi sat cross-legged on a worn, thick fur rug, his breath forming small, visible clouds, as he stared intently into the steaming bowl of simple broth cradled carefully in his hands. The rich, inviting aroma of simmered meat and wild herbs filled the small, space.
Varga sat silently across from him on a cut log, her piercing, green eyes reflecting the dancing firelight as she studied him with unnerving focus. The strange glow in her irises had dimmed to a faint shimmer, but subtle traces of that otherworldly light still lingered deep within, like dying embers waiting to be stoked back to life.
The silence between them was becoming unbearable.
Femi's thoughts raced frantically beneath a calm exterior, his sharp claws tightening around the warm wooden bowl.
'Oh boy, she don catch me,' he thought, his pulse quickening uncomfortably, with the dangerous implications of the situation crashing down on him.
'What am I going to do now?' He pondered intensely how she had noticed something was amiss, when she had first noticed it, and why she was choosing to ask him now?
He mentally replayed every interaction since first meeting her, searching for the misstep: where had he slipped up? The cooking fire's glowing embers popped loudly, scattering tiny orange sparks into the air like fireflies as he finally met her unnervingly eyes.
The moment Varga had first confronted him, her gaze and tone had told him he was caught.
'I have to figure out a way to deflect the heat off me.'
He steadied his nerves, forcing himself to meet her intense stare without flinching. The broth's fragrant steam curled lazily between them almost like a translucent barrier.
Femi's gaze did not waver as he deflected with a straight face. "What type of wild accusation are you accusing me of now?" he challenged, his voice carefully measured to sound more offended.
"And first of all, I should be the one questioning you." He tapped his thighs for emphasis.
"Your fellow warriors tied me to a pole for two full days without mercy. Or food, I might add. But you, who has not yet answered for that injustice, are now questioning me. The audacity." He drove his point home by actively pointing a finger at her.
Okay, I think one more push will sell my point, Femi thought.
"Furthermore, even now you keep secrets,and don't you deny it. I saw your eyes. They were just glowing. Not by reflection of light, no. Your eyes were actually, physically glowing. What's up with that? Are you using some kind of dark juju?"
Varga didn't visibly react to his clumsy deflection. The firelight danced playfully across her sharp, defined features as she exhaled a slow, controlled breath.
"Just tell me the truth," she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
"Stop trying to deflect the question with more questions." She leaned forward slightly, the thick fur-lined collar of her tunic brushing against her jaw.
"I'll make it simple. You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine. Fair enough?"
Femi hesitated. The offer was suspiciously straightforward. He glanced sideways at the fire, watching the hungry flames lick the charred logs. What does she really want? What does she already know?.
He hesitated for a moment more, weighing his limited options, before responding cautiously.
"I don't know what you're presuming I have or what you think you saw," he said slowly, lifting his gaze back to hers.
"but sure, you go on first. I'm listening."
Varga exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly as if she'd fully expected more resistance. She set her own half-finished bowl down on the hard-packed earth floor between them, the broth's oily surface shimmering with tiny droplets of fat. "About your first question…"
She flexed her bandaged arm gingerly, testing the healing flesh and muscle beneath the clean wrappings.
"I remember telling you clearly that as long as you belong to a Krag, you'll be treated well. That basic rule applies to all those under a krag's direct control and protection." she took a deliberate pause to stare into the mesmerizing flames.
"However," she continued, her voice taking on a more serious tone "those under a krag's control are still seen as second to the krag's own warriors and full members of the tribe or war band. So, by our laws and customs, you are considered lesser than every single warrior."
"Simply put, in the eyes of the camp, you're beneath every tribesman." She finished while staring at him directly, ensuring he understood the harsh reality.
"Ah, I kind of got that feeling already", Femi nodded, understanding the social dynamics, a bitter pill to swallow but that was simply life here.
"So, you might be treated well by the one who took you, but that doesn't mean the others will give you the same courtesy or respect." He, asked, trying to confirm.
"Yes." Varga's fingers absently traced the chipped rim of her wooden bowl. Her expression thoughtful.
"What happened to you was.… a sign of that. It's normal here.And I was already thinking of a way to Change that for you, which we can discuss after you answer my question."
Femi's ears pricked up and his brow furrowed in deep concentration. "Change how?" The thought was immediately intriguing, but Varga didn't elaborate further. Instead, she pointedly ignored his question, and continued with her explanation.
"And as for the second thing....what you saw was the manifestation of....Kuros."
"Kuros," Femi repeated, the familiar word feeling strange on his tongue.
Where have I .. suddenly a skeleton wrapped in crimson aura flashed through his mind.
"I knew it," he muttered.
Varga's lips twitched almost, as if she'd caught his whisper, but she pressed on without acknowledging it.
"Kuros is the world's energy, a gift from the gods, awoken by the dungeon."
Femi's head felt light after hearing that. "A gift from the gods?" The concept was staggering in its.
"You gain that type of immense power directly from a god? Wait, how's that supposed to work?" Is it like using some advanced form of jazz? His thoughts tumbled over one another, struggling desperately to reconcile this revelation with everything he'd seen and experienced so far in this strange world.
....
As they sat down more comfortably, this time for some reason closer to the entrance, with their steaming bowls of food cradled in their arms, Varga continued to explain the profound nature and power of Kuros. "The use of Kuros, is a rare gift that very few are born with the potential to wield," she said this as she gazed intently at Femi.
"It is the chaotic energy of the world," she explained. "It surrounds everything and is woven within every single living thing." To illustrate her point, she reached for a nearby stick, half-buried in the snow near the lean-to entrance. She held it loosely between her calloused fingers, her focus narrowing.
Then, before Femi's wide eyes, a faint, flickering aura, like a ghostly flame, wreathed the ordinary stick. His breath caught in his throat at the impossible sight.
"It is within the birds in the sky, the sea creatures in the depths, the great beasts of the land, even the risen creatures, and all the old races." She turned the stick slowly, letting the shimmering energy dance and writhe along its length.
"And those who are able to tap into it, to command it, are known by different names. Some call them the gifted or blessed. Others, those who see them as a danger, call them usurpers of the gods' power. But within the Circle, we simply call each other by the branch of power we wield."
Femi watched, still mesmerized, as the energy pulsed with a soft light once, twice, before dissipating into nothing.
"One of these branches is called Enchanters," Varga continued, letting the stick drop.
"I fall under this. We can enchant and focus our internal Kuros to greatly enhance our physical bodies, imbue our weapons temporarily....or permanently enchant them.
Her gaze grew distant, as if recalling something far away. "But, there are said to be a even higher levels of Enchantment, ones very few ever reach in a lifetime." She sighed.
"And then there are the Manipulators, those who wield the Kuros that surrounds the world, shaping it into different forms. Be it shards of ice, tongues of fire, or even solid constructs of light." She refocused her intense gaze on Femi. "We call the human Manipulators Weavers, while we Krag call ours Shamans. But both are fundamentally similar; they manipulate the Kuros existing within the world around them, rather than just within themselves."
Femi taught deeply, about this massive gain of information. "It means this isn't just some simple jazz or juju but some form of fundamental, force."
Varga wasn't finished yet. "There are many more forms and branches," she said, her voice taking on the tone of a storyteller.
"I've heard tales that creatures like the elusive Catfolk of the western coast can use their Kuros to change their physical forms. I have never seen it myself, just heard stories told by traveling warriors." She leaned in closer, her emerald eyes locking onto his.
"That's just the very basics of what Kuros is. It's not just some 'juju,' as you keep calling it. It's everything."
Femi took a long, thoughtful pause, silently processing the torrent of information Varga had just shared. He thought about the energy, Kuros, and how it seemed to be a form of power that allowed people of this world to perform incredible feats. The different forms of it, the Enchanters and the Weavers/Shamans, each with their unique abilities.
But Femi's expression became visibly puzzled. "I'm confused about something you said earlier," he admitted, scratching behind his ear.
"You mentioned that Kuros is the energy of the world, gifted by the Gods, and awakened by a dungeon. What do you mean exactly by 'awakened by a dungeon'? What is the connection?"
Varga's eyes sparkled with understanding. "You see, to awaken the Kuros within one's body, a person must first go through a trial," she explained, gesturing with her hands. "And that trial is done within a dungeon."
She leaned forward, her voice taking on a serious tone. "I told you before about what a dungeon truly means to our people."
"It is not just a hole in the ground, but a place to find yourself, confront your deepest fears and then overcome them through sheer will. Only then can you truly awaken the Kuros sleeping within you."
Femi's listened intently, the complex concept beginning to sink in and take root. "So, the dungeon is like a test, a trial by fire ?" he asked, seeking clarification.
Vaga nodded. "Yes, exactly. It's a way to prove your worth, to push your limits and discover your true, potential. And for those rare few who succeed in awakening, the rewards are... substantial "