Eska tries to push herself upright but a sharp, searing pain shoots through her leg, forcing her back down. She gasps, clutching her thigh as she realizes it's likely broken.
"No, no. You should probably wait for help. That fall must've been rough," a calm voice echoes in the cavern.
Startled, Eska's head whips around, her golden eyes scanning the darkness. She sees nothing—no figure, no movement—just the eerie emptiness of the cavern surrounding her.
"Who's there?" she calls out, her voice trembling.
From the shadows emerges what appears to be a tall woman, though her appearance is far from human.
Her dark red skin looks like it's been stained with blood and curved horns emerge from her temples, looping upward, backward and forward again around her skull.
The right side of her face is nearly destroyed, her eye missing and the remnants replaced with stone-like flesh tinged a faint red. That same stony texture spreads across her right side, down to where her arm ends abruptly above the elbow, leaving only a stump.
She walks with an unnatural gait, her toes gripping the ground while her elongated heels jut backward like talons, adding to her alien, unsettling presence.
A long tail trails behind her, dragging along the ground. Though dirty, it remains undamaged, swaying slightly with her movements. Her hair is long, unkempt and messy, the black strands extend down to her waist.
Her single green eye glows faintly, its piercing gaze landing on Eska with a tired intensity. A lone broken earring dangles from her left ear, a pink starfish, adding an odd touch of delicacy to her otherwise haunting appearance.
Eska's fear is unmistakable as she scrambles backward, only to bump into the unyielding rock wall behind her. Her chest heaves, panic written across her face.
"I'm not here to hurt you, dear," the tall figure says, her tone unsettlingly calm. "I'm only trying to help. Though, truthfully, you don't have much choice in the matter."
The woman extends a slender index finger and flicks it downward.
Instantly, Eska feels a heavy weight settle over her eyelids. She fights to stay conscious, her head bobbing weakly but the last thing she sees is the mysterious figure drawing closer before everything goes dark.
Moments later, Oblea drops silently into the cavern from the hole above.
Her landing is so graceful, not even the dirt stirs beneath her feet. She surveys the scene quickly, her sharp eyes catching the marks on the ground—Eska's body landing, her crawl toward the wall and a set of strange footprints leading away.
Slight relief flickers across her face as she notices one critical detail: there's no blood.
Oblea draws her knife, and with silent steps ventures further into the tunnel. Though jagged rocks jut from the walls, the smooth floor and symmetrical layout give the space an unsettlingly manmade feel.
She reaches a massive chamber, its walls lined with towering bookshelves. Books are scattered across the floor, alongside mismatched chairs and cushions. At the center of the room, the red-tinged figure sits, engrossed in an old tome.
Without a sound, Oblea steps into the chamber, slipping behind one of the bookshelves. She crouches low, knife in hand, and peeks out—but the figure is gone. The book now rests neatly on a side table as if carefully placed there.
"She's fine," a voice purrs from directly behind her.
Oblea twists instinctively, slashing her knife through the air as she leaps backward, gaining distance. Her sharp eyes dart around, but nothing is there.
"Uncalled for," the voice teases from behind her again.
She whirls, knife raised and finally spots the figure standing a few steps away. Tall, imposing, and unbothered, the woman tilts her head slightly as she observes Oblea.
"What are you?" Oblea demands.
"Rude," the woman replies casually, her lips curling into an amused smile. "Your daughter is safe, by the way. Though, I must say, she broke her leg falling from that little hole."
Oblea's grip on her knife tightens, her eyes narrowing. "Where is she?"
"In one of my rooms. She's resting in a bed. Come, I'll take you there," the woman says, her tone dismissive as if the situation were nothing more than a polite errand.
Oblea hesitates for a moment, her instincts screaming to stay on guard. But with no other choice, she follows, her senses razor-sharp and her weapon at the ready.
The woman leads Oblea through a narrow corridor carved into the stone, its dim light flickering from small torches mounted on the walls. The air grows warmer as they approach a heavy wooden door.
With an elegant motion, the woman pushes it open, revealing a modest room with stone walls and a single bed at the far end. Eska lies there, her leg carefully splinted and wrapped, her chest rising and falling steadily in deep sleep.
"Eska!" Oblea rushes to her daughter's side, kneeling beside the bed and brushing her white hair gently from her face. Her eyes dart to Eska's injured leg, her worry palpable.
"What did you do to her?" she demands, looking over her shoulder at the figure standing casually in the doorway.
"I temporarily took care of the broken bone, what else did you want?" The woman replies, her voice laced with something almost playful yet knowing.
"I also gave her a nap. A bit of magic to spare her the pain of that rather nasty break. The human body does love to scream when it's been pushed beyond its limits, doesn't it? I thought it best not to wake the entire forest with her cries."
Oblea narrows her eyes but says nothing, focusing back on Eska.
The woman steps towards the exit, her tall figure casting long shadows from the fires beside the door.
"You shouldn't worry so much. She's tougher than she looks and she'll recover quickly, thanks to her… unique resilience."
Her tone drips with implication, her gaze flickering knowingly between Oblea and Eska. "You've raised her well."
The woman steps outside, leaving Oblea alone with Eska.
Minutes pass and Marina settles into a different chair, positioned near a brazier that casts flickering light across the room.
She reads quietly, the soft crackle of flames her only company. The air in the chamber feels heavy, as if the very walls are holding their breath.
Oblea emerges from the hallway and she approaches the woman.
"What is your name?" she asks with a firm voice.
"Ah, a much more reasonable question," the woman replies, her gaze still fixed on the pages of her book.
She blinks slowly, takes a deliberate breath and closes the book with an air of finality. Turning to face Oblea, she answers calmly
"Marina."
Oblea's expression softens, though her stance remains cautious. "I owe you a great deal, Marina. I am—" she begins, her voice uncharacteristically carrying a hint of gratitude but Marina raises a hand, stopping her mid-sentence.
"Oblea, the road ahead of you and your daughter is one that few could survive," Marina says calmly. "You both will face trials that will stretch every fiber of your being. Physical strength, cunning, and courage—while invaluable—will not suffice."
Her piercing gaze locks onto Oblea, who stands still, her brow furrowing with a mix of shock and unease.
She continues. "There are depths that Eska must tread that even with all your skill you will not be able to lead her through."
"What exactly are you referring to? What kind of trials are you talking about?"
"The world you know, the one you've fought so hard to master, is merely the surface"
"And you are worried I won't be able to handle that?"
"I am not worried about your or her ability to fight the monsters you see every day, Oblea. I am worried about the forces that dwell in the cracks of this world. The forces beyond sword and bow. After all, what is a steel sword against a god?"
The word "god" strikes Oblea like a thunderclap.
Marina presses on. "Eska will be tested when the eyes of the god spot her, when the voice of the god offers his deal and when the sword of god comes crashing down upon you both."
Oblea's demeanor shifts, her shock giving way to suspicion. Marina knows too much—about Eska, her abilities, and the looming implications. Her voice sharpens as she asks, "And why would you want to help us? What do you get out of it?"
Marina doesn't hesitate. Her grin widens, her glowing green eyes almost alight with mischief and defiance. "Entertainment Oblea! Because if I'm ever going to get a chance to mess with the gods, I want to be right there on the front row."
Her words hang in the air, her audacious grin daring any challenge.
Oblea takes a deep breath, her eyes closing briefly as she collects her thoughts. After a moment, she opens them and asks, "And if I agree, what will you do?"
Marina gestures broadly toward the surrounding bookshelves. "I will share my knowledge—my wisdom. I will teach Eska things you haven't even imagined. From the fundamentals, like mathematics, to the ancient truths of the world. And when she's ready, I'll show her real magic—not the diluted imitation you call magic now."
"You want to give her school lessons?" Oblea raises an eyebrow, her voice laced with skepticism.
"All the teachings she'll need to build a strong foundation for what lies ahead," Marina replies with unwavering confidence. Her eyes gleam with certainty.
Oblea's gaze sharpens as she studies Marina, weighing the sincerity in her words. "You talk about teaching her things I can't, preparing her for trials I've never even dreamed of. But I need to know—are you truly doing this for her? Or is this just about your vendetta against the gods?"
Marina meets her eyes without hesitation, her tone calm but firm.
"Why not both, Oblea?. I won't lie to you. I have my reasons and yes, the gods are part of them. But Eska is special and the challenges she'll face are unlike anything this world is ready for. She needs every tool and every advantage to survive. And so do you."
Oblea crosses her arms, her expression softening slightly. "If you're offering to help her, then I'll take it. But if I sense anything that could harm her…"
Marina interrupts with a faint smile, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from a mother like you. You protect her in the ways you know best and I'll prepare her for what neither of us can fully see yet. Together, we can give her a chance against the storm that's coming."
Oblea exhales, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "Fine. But don't expect me to trust you overnight."
"Trust is earned," Marina replies, her smile turning into a small smirk. "And I'll earn it."