The forest no longer whispered with mindless rustling.
It spoke.
And Ka'roth was listening.
Dawn seeped slowly through the dense canopy above, illuminating the scars of the world. Clawed trees. Shattered rocks. Predator blood dried on bark. The world had always been violent—but now, Ka'roth was beginning to see beyond violence.
Every crack in stone, every patch of moss, every feather that drifted down from a treetop told a story. One that the old Ka'roth would have ignored. But the one that now walked this jungle was not just a beast—he was becoming a seeker.
He stood at the edge of a great canyon.
Below, rivers cut paths through black stone. Ancient bones jutted from the cliffsides, so large they dwarfed even Ka'roth's massive frame. Fossils of titans long forgotten. Some with wings wider than trees. Others with mouths that could swallow whole beasts like him.
What came before me?
The thought echoed in his head, not once, but deliberately. He was asking questions. This was no longer a side-effect of survival. It was now the core of his being.
And then…
He heard it.
---
The Whispering Stone
At first, Ka'roth believed it to be wind. A gentle, guttural hum resonating from deep within the canyon. But as he stilled his breath, lowering his heavy body against the edge of the cliff and placing one ear to the cold stone…
It spoke.
A pulse. Not like the sky's thunder, but like a voice without words. A vibration, faint yet rhythmic, echoing in perfect intervals. It wasn't natural.
It was intentional.
Ka'roth closed his eyes. His massive heart slowed. Muscles softened. His mind expanded.
And for the first time, he felt the thoughts of the world.
They weren't clear, like speech, but more like impressions. Memories embedded into stone. Echoes of past life.
He saw flashes.
A four-legged being carved from obsidian rising from molten lakes.
A silver-feathered monstrosity weeping beside a dying moon.
An eye—floating alone in the void, unblinking, eternal.
And then… silence.
Ka'roth jerked back. His body trembled—not in fear, but in awe. He had just brushed against something older than time. The world had a memory, and now, somehow, he had the key to access it.
---
The Hunter Becomes the Hunted
His clarity was broken by a sharp crack in the forest behind him.
Ka'roth spun instantly—no longer a philosopher, but a beast once more. Muscles tightened, claws extended, eyes narrowed.
Two sets of glowing red eyes watched him from the underbrush. Shadows moved. Silence was shattered.
Ambush.
Three beasts emerged—smaller than Ka'roth, but fast. Agile. Intelligent.
Velbains.
They moved with coordinated precision, a hunting pack known for their ability to take down prey three times their size by overwhelming it with speed and numbers.
Ka'roth did not charge.
He stepped back. Observed.
Their formation was triangular—two flanking, one central. The central one growled lowly, a signal. The left attacker shifted its weight, preparing to dash.
Ka'roth's eyes traced a line—root, stone, ledge.
In a heartbeat, he acted.
Instead of dodging the incoming charge, he leapt over it, twisting mid-air and slamming his hind legs into the jaw of the flanker. The creature crumpled, stunned.
The central Velbain roared and lunged.
Ka'roth rolled to the side, scraping his shoulder but avoiding the claws. As the third came from behind, Ka'roth slammed his tail in a wide arc, knocking it off-balance.
Blood. Bone. Motion.
But this wasn't instinct anymore.
It was strategy.
Within seconds, only one Velbain remained, whimpering beside the river's edge. Ka'roth approached slowly. Not to kill—but to study.
The creature did something unexpected.
It bowed.
Not as a beast might submit in terror. But with intention. Slow, controlled, eyes locked to Ka'roth's.
Ka'roth tilted his head. A strange heat sparked behind his eyes—a light.
Recognition.
The Velbain rose and ran—not in panic, but with purpose.
---
The Beacon of Thought
Night fell again. This time, Ka'roth didn't rest on stone. He climbed a ridge, high enough to see the starlit canopy stretch endlessly. The stars above flickered like memories waiting to be unlocked.
And then, it appeared.
A column of blue light. Faint, yet piercing. Far to the north. Rising from the Earth into the sky like a spear of knowledge itself.
It came from the Skyroot Tree.
Ka'roth didn't know why… but he knew it was calling to him.
Suddenly, he felt something at the edge of his consciousness—a presence. Not a beast. Not a threat. But another mind.
Words formed. Not in the air. Not in his ears.
In his thoughts.
> "Come."
Ka'roth stood slowly.
No beast had ever followed a voice not their own. No creature had ever moved toward an unknown beacon not for food, mate, or shelter—but for meaning.
But Ka'roth did.
He stepped down from the ridge. His path was no longer dictated by survival or hunger. It was dictated by something greater.
And far above, in the heart of the Skyroot Tree, the light pulsed again—brighter this time. As if responding.
---
The First Pilgrimage Begins
Ka'roth began his journey north.
He passed lands untouched by beast or claw—deadlands where bones turned to ash and even the wind refused to howl. He crossed rivers whose waters whispered in languages he did not yet understand.
He began to change.
With each step, his muscles grew leaner, not weaker. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark. His dreams became visions—memories of lives he'd never lived.
Other beasts began to notice.
Some fled.
Some watched.
A few followed.
They too had begun to feel. A pulse. A tremor. A pull.
The age of instinct was beginning to die.
And in its place, the age of thought was being born.
And at the center of it all…
Was the beast who had no name but the one he gave himself.
Ka'roth.
---