Epilogue - The Oracle

  Luke ran after his prey, the Give Chase ability gliding his paws across the ground as the horned thing bounded over boulders and off the sides of crumbled walls that were likely once made of neatly laid square stones, like back in Luke’s new home.

  The prey gave a good run and did a few tricky things with changing directions right into sharp turns. But as things continued on and on, it tired out, and Luke was soon sinking his teeth into the back of its neck.

  Whenever he killed something worthy, a sensation came over him that let him know he was closer to his next strengthening. On the occasion that his kill tipped him over that threshold, he would be aware of the precise nature of his strengthening.

  He became stronger, more able to take damage, use more abilities, and he would become faster. That was the case with this kill, and he howled in celebration as he felt the strengthening empower him. Prey would be even easier to kill now!

  “Good boy!” Themiel called as he dropped in beside him. He took a knee and patted Luke’s head. Luke licked his face, which made Themiel laugh.

  Luke was initially untrusting of this creature, whom he eventually learned was called an Umarii. But Themiel was always kind to him, and Luke realized that he might just be worthy as a new packmate.

  Luke missed his brothers and sisters from his first pack and hoped to see them again one day. But maybe one day Themiel would help him find them?

  After all, it was those Red Faces, or rather, “Barbarians,” as Luke had learned they were called, who had done all those horrible things. Themiel was trying to rescue them, and his friend had died in the attempt.

  Luke felt very sorry for Themiel. Luke knew what it was like to lose a packmate. When Themiel made distressed noises one night, hiding his face and crying into his pillow, Luke understood instantly what it was for. Luke did not express feelings in such a way, but it was just the way he had felt after seeing his father killed and being separated from his mother, brothers, and sisters.

  After showering Luke with praise, Themiel pointed down to the kill and said, “Go ahead, Luke. Eat. Good boy.” Themiel then backed up to a boulder and sat down, then pulled out a round red food that he sliced pieces off of with a knife. Luke didn’t like that kind of food; he only liked meat. So he started digging into his kill while Themiel continued eating his own weird, crunchy food.

  When Luke was full, and his kill had been mostly devoured, Themiel said, “Okay boy, let’s go back.” When Luke didn’t move right away, still more interested in the kill, Themiel let out a whistle and patted his side, raising his voice a little more. “Come on, that’s enough. Let’s go!”

  Luke huffed but obeyed, following after his master.

  He liked it when Themiel was happy with him and praised him. He didn’t like it when Themiel got mad. It wasn’t that Themiel was ever cruel or anything like that. He never tried to hurt Luke with those painful sticks as the Barbarians had. However, Luke could still hear the sharp edge in his voice when he was displeased, and that alone was enough to make Luke’s ears flatten. He wanted Themiel to be happy and praise him and offer him treats and headpats. So Luke tried very hard to be good.

  They walked through the rocky, crumbled place together, heading back to the flat mountain that Luke learned was called their “fortress.” This crumbled area was a good distance away, and there were occasionally strange things to fight here. Whenever one would show up—

  Themiel suddenly stopped and whispered. “Hold.”

  That meant don’t move.

  Themiel kneeled beside Luke, placing one arm around his back and pointing with the other hand. “Watch ’em.”

  Luke’s gaze focused on where Themiel pointed. It was a group of the strange enemies.

  They stood on two legs like Themiel and the other Umarii, but they did not have any meat, so they certainly were not prey or meant for eating. They carried rusty, dented weapons, and their white limbs, which were nothing but bone, clinked and rattled as they moved.

  There were four of them. Usually, they were in groups of three to five, but occasionally there would be far more. Whenever there were very large groups, Themiel would signal Luke to retreat, and they would sneak back to the fortress and grab more Umarii to help with the fight.

  A group like this… however.

  “Stay,” Themiel said, then left Luke’s side, drawing his sword and taking a path behind some rubble to sneak up behind the group. Luke was not to charge in until he heard Themiel’s whistle.

  Themiel moved like a shadow, boots barely crunching on the gravel as he slipped from cover to cover. Luke stayed where he was told, eyes locked on the enemies. He could hear them now, the hollow scrape of bone on stone, the faint clatter of loose armor plates knocking together. They smelled wrong. Old. Dry. Not alive, but they still moved, so they were not quite dead either. It confused Luke how things that smelled like dead things could still move. Luke did not like them.

  One of the creatures turned its skull slightly, as if it sensed something.

  That was when Themiel struck.

  He burst from behind the rubble in a smooth rush, sword flashing in a clean arc. The first enemy didn’t even have time to raise its weapon before its head went spinning free, clattering across the ground. Themiel pivoted immediately, blade already in motion, steel biting deep into the second creature’s ribcage and ripping straight through, dispersing it in a scatter of bones.

  The remaining two reacted at once, jerking around with quick, unnatural speed. One lunged, rusty blade swinging wide.

  Themiel met it head-on.

  He stepped inside the swing and thrust his open palm forward. A wobble of sound burst from his hand with a shockwave. The creature was hurled backward as if struck by an invisible wall, smashing into a broken pillar hard enough to shatter stone. Its limbs scattered, bones bouncing and rolling across the ground.

  The last one raised its weapon and shrieked like a dying animal. Themiel retreated, leaping backwards and gracefully perching on a rock that the sword clanged against just below his feet. He raised a finger to his lips and let out a loud whistle.

  That was the signal.

  The world narrowed to the enemy. Luke’s paws ate up the distance in seconds, and the creature barely had time to turn before Luke slammed into it, jaws snapping shut around its arm. Bone crunched between his teeth as he twisted and tore, dragging it down. The thing flailed uselessly, clawing at him with its free hand, but with one final pull he snapped the arm free from the creature’s shoulder.

  It let out another shriek, tried to grab for the sword still held by its dismembered arm, but then Luke pounced again. He clenched his teeth high, near its shoulder, used his paws to hold it down, and ripped off the other arm. Then he continued to bite and tear until he removed the creature's head, and it finally fell limp.

  Luke’s tail wagged and his tongue lolled out happily as he looked back to his master, ready to receive the praise. He earned more progress toward his next strengthening, though he knew he was still far from the next one. It seemed each strengthening required he killed more things than the last.

  “Good boy, Luke!” Themiel said, jumping down from his perch and patting Luke’s head.

  Luke leaned into the touch, chest puffed with pride as his tail wagged harder. Praise was warmth. Praise meant he had done well. He liked doing well.

  Themiel gave his head one last pat, then straightened, eyes already scanning the ruins again. The man never stayed relaxed for long. Luke noticed that. Even when things were quiet, Themiel’s shoulders stayed tense, like he was waiting for the world to try and bite him again.

  “Let’s get back now. We have a meeting with the council.”

  Luke turned his head, not quite sure what it meant.

  Council… He had heard that word before…

  Oh right! It is when Themiel would speak with those other Umarii who stood above him in that dark room. They spoke in stern voices, like the kind Themiel would get when he was unhappy with Luke. Luke did not like the council.

  But if Themiel said they had to meet with them, then Luke had no choice. He always did what Themiel said, and besides, if one of the other Umarii attempted to bite Themiel, Luke would be there to defend his master!

  ***

  They entered the flat mountain and made their way through the square caves that Luke learned were called “halls.” Umarii they passed along the way, would either dip into an adjacent hall when one was available or stick as close to the wall as possible to avoid them. Luke could tell they did not like him, so Luke did not like them either.

  There had been several times when some would make threatening gestures and sounds towards Themiel. The first time this had ever happened, Luke growled and raised his hackles, warning them not to threaten his master… However, this behavior was met with Themiel getting mad at him and chastising him. Luke did not understand why he wasn’t supposed to defend Themiel, but he supposed he would just have to accept that it was not what Themiel wanted. So now, whenever an Umarii seemed to give Themiel grief, Luck would follow his master’s example and just ignore them.

  Finally, they made it to the council room

  The doors were very tall, taller than any others in the fortress, and had white lines drawn on them, like the kind that were naturally a part of Themiel’s face. They opened inward with a deep grinding sound, revealing a huge room with tall pillars holding up the ceiling way above their heads. On the far end, a ring of stone seats rose in tiers upon a dais with a railing in front, each seat occupied by an Umarii—the council.

  They were older than most other Umarii, and Luke got the impression they were not very strong hunters. They always talked in mean tones.

  Themiel stopped at the low stone below the tall seats and rested a hand on Luke’s head. It was not praise this time. It was reassurance.

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  “Stay,” he murmured quietly.

  Luke sat on his haunches, alert but obedient, eyes flicking between the Umarii above. If any of them moved too fast, he would be ready. Themiel might not want him to defend him from threatening sounds, but Luke had already decided that if anyone ever attempted to hurt Themiel physically, he would not let it happen. He didn’t care if Themiel told him it was bad or not!

  One of the council members began speaking, his tone calm but somewhat judgemental. Luke listened for words he recognized, but he struggled to understand things that were not directly related to hunting, eating, or any of his other usual daily routines. Also, he had an easier time understanding Themiel, because Themiel would always say his words in a way that was easy for Luke to follow.

  Another of those old Umarii chimed in with a louder tone, and a third pounded a fist as he yelled something, pointing down at Themiel. Luke understood the term “Hell Hound,” the Barbarians would say that one too. A Hell Hound, apparently, is what Luke and his pack were.

  Themiel shrugged a shoulder, then calmly gestured with his hand as he began to respond. Luke heard his own name, and then it seemed Themiel was telling them about hunting. Luke’s tail wagged, wondering if he was explaining to them what good hunters they were. These old fools looked like no good hunters, so Luke thought they must be impressed! They did not show it, but they were probably just being like Iris when she pretended not to be impressed with how good of a hunter he was!

  Themiel’s tone slowly raised a little louder as he explained more things, and as Luke heard those other Umarii start to murmur with worry, he couldn’t help his lips curling into a grin. They obviously couldn’t hide how impressed they were.

  Then Themiel suddenly yelled, pounding his fist on the stand in front of himself. His other hand pointed accusingly at one, then another, and their murmurs grew louder. Soon, one was yelling back at Themiel, whom Themiel then yelled back at.

  The yelling kept going, voices piling on top of each other until they became a loud, ugly noise that made Luke’s ears flatten tight against his head. His tail stopped wagging. He didn’t like this. Themiel sounded angry in a way Luke had only heard a few times before.

  One of the council Umarii stood, shouting something loud as he slammed his hands against his stone seat.

  Then a new voice cut through it all.

  “Enough.”

  It wasn’t loud, in fact, it was quite soft, yet everyone was silenced immediately. Even Themiel.

  The echo of footsteps sounded through the large room, and then Luke followed Themiel’s gaze and found where it was coming from. They were not feet; they were hooves! Like prey, except standing on only two of them. The skin otherwise looked dark like any other Umarii skin. Luke squinted as the strange Umarii continued down the steps.

  It was a female. The extra skin she wore (called clothes, as Luke had picked up) was much thinner than all the other Umarii Luke had seen, even other females. It hung from her shoulders in delicate waves, brushing against her sides and legs as she walked while leaving her front mostly bare. The round things on her chest, too, were larger than those Luke saw on other Umarii females and even the Barbarian females.

  Luke had never been sure what those were, but thanks to the thinner fabric, the answer finally hit him. He was able to see a small nub poking behind the fabric in the center of each, and it reminded of him of the things his mother had. So, clearly, that must be where milk comes from! Was this Umarii a mother? He didn’t understand why they needed to be on those big round things, though. Two-legged creatures sure were strange.

  But then, as she descended further into the light, Luke noticed something else very strange about her.

  She had horns. Not just the tiny points on her forehead like all other Umarii, but fully formed horns. They rose from her forehead and curled back over her head in a sweeping arc. They were far more impressive than even the kinds of horns Luke would see on prey. But no, she was anything but prey. The way all were silenced from a mere word, she was not even a simple predator; she was an alpha.

  Even the purple of her eyes seemed to not only glow but also illuminate, and the white lines on her face too seemed more impressive. All umarii had them, but her white lines trailed all the way down her cheeks and neck, then branched out and continued along the curves of her arms and body. Luke had only seen Themiel without his second ski—clothes—a few times, and he knew Themiel only had the lines on his face, so Luke assumed it was the same for most other Umarii.

  One of the council members stood, quivering slightly. “Oracle,” he began, bowing his head, then muttering things Luke quickly lost track of.

  “Sit,” the oracle commanded.

  That was a word Luke knew quite well, and the Umarii instantly obeyed, taking his seat. She then looked towards Themiel, who kept his head bowed. It seemed even Themiel deferred to this Oracle person.

  The Oracle reached the bottom of the stairs and spread her arms wide across the railing as she leaned forward, setting her eyes on Luke. Luke’s ears folded back. When she spoke, she did it in a calm enough way that Luke was able to understand most of what she said, as it usually was with Themiel.

  “How is the training going, young Themiel?” Luke did not know the word "young," but he understood the rest. Was Themiel’s full name Young Themiel?

  “Very well, Oracle. Luke listens quite well, and he is growing stronger daily. He has already evolved once, and at this rate, I suspect another evolution may be coming soon enough.”

  Luke’s ears perked. They’re talking about me!

  Her purple eyes glowed from behind the black hair that had fallen over her face as she leaned forward and kept her gaze on Luke. Her lips curled into a smile. “That is excellent to hear. Though this is not our transmigrator, if you can hold Luke’s trust and loyalty, I do believe he will be useful to us.”

  Transmigrator. Luke was unsure what that word meant, but he remembered hearing it several times. The first time was the night when he was rescued and Themiel’s friend died.

  “Oracle,” one of the Umarii behind her spoke. “Permission to speak.”

  Her brow quirked, and she blew upward, pushing some hair away from her eyes as she turned with annoyance. “What is it?”

  “That Hell Hound is a monster, and one who could grow to be powerful. I understand perhaps finding a use for it, but why does it freely roam these halls?”

  “Young Themiel claims he has control over it,” she responded simply.

  “For now, perhaps, but it is still young itself. As it grows larger and stronger, it may turn on us. Beasts understand power and strength, and it is their instinct to defer to the stronger. As a Hell Hound, it will undoubtedly become stronger than Themiel in short time and may begin to assert its own dominance. This is the reason we have been so hesitate to agree with his suggestion of—”

  “It may turn on us?” the Oracle asked, raising a single finger to silence him. “Are we to be dictated by what may happen? Many things may happen. The Ashemound volcano may erupt without warning, the sky may be covered in ash as the sun fails to rise. By such logic should we move our people across the sea because of what may happen?” She straightened, her hooves clicking against the stone as she turned to gesture across the entire council. “If we govern based on fear, then it will be fear that governs us, councilmen.”

  Luke did not understand most of that. He quickly ran it through his head but too many unknown words made it impossible.

  After allowing a silence, another spoke. He was much older with sagging skin. “But this is an easily preventable risk. Many of us simply fail to see the compensation that is desired. That is, unless perhaps you’ve had a vision which explains your stance on this? If you could explain your eagerness to agree to Themiel’s… uh, shall we say, reckless proposal?”

  Her smile returned slowly, her head pivoting. “So it is compensation and justification you desire. Very well. I’ve seen many paths. In most of them, the Hell Hound dies young. Cut down by fear. Poisioned. Slain in his sleep. Or perhaps, all alone, far from here. Without his pack, survival is an uncertain thing even for a Hell Hound. But I say this: one way or another, all of those paths end poorly for us and for the world.”

  A murmur rippled through the seats.

  “In others,” she went on, “he grows without guidance, and despite the absence of his pack, he survives and grows strong. Loyal to nothing. Without direction. An unguided killing machine.” Her lips thinned. “Those paths are even worse.”

  Again a murmur spread through them until one stood and said, “And what of paths without bad endings?”

  She shrugged a shoulder and frowned as she leaned back against the railing. “Those endings, I’m afraid, I’ve yet to see clearly.”

  The murmur rose more and more, the council sounding angrier, some even shouting things at the Oracle. She simply played with a lock of her hair, twisting it between her fingers as the smile returned to her lips.

  “Then what are we to do!” one extra loud voice suddenly broke through, shouting at her accusingly. “If every path ends in ruin, then why are we sitting here listening to riddles!? You have your power so you can give us direction, and yet you treat the role as if it is all a game!”

  The man continued to yell at her, and even Luke understood the discomfort spreading through the room at his actions. Luke did not quite understand what he was yelling about, but it just seemed wrong, like a pup snarling at an alpha.

  The Oracle, for her part, only seemed amused as her smile widened through his rant. That is, until he apparently went a step too far.

  He slammed his fist on the side of his chair. “You forget, you were once just like us. You are still an Umarii, and snatching the power of the Oracle does not place you above us! Your role is in service to the council, and don’t you dare forget that, Astrid.”

  The room fell completely silent. The Oracle’s smile vanished.

  “That is quite bold,” she said, lifting her hand towards him, fingers curled together. “To call me by that name.”

  “O-Oracle—I didn’t mean to…”

  Luke’s hackles rose on instinct. He didn’t know why exactly, but he felt something was very wrong.

  Another council member rose cautiously. “P-Perhaps we should all take a brief—”

  She rose a single finger. It was no dramatic gesture. Like flicking a bug out of the air.

  The council member who had been yelling opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then, his purple eyes suddenly exploded with a spray of blood. His body wobbled on limp legs as if it didn’t know which direction to fall until suddenly pitching sideways and landing face-first on the steps. There were several alarmed shouts, and those who were closest to the now dead man shot up from their seats and moved away from him.

  For a moment, the only sound in the chamber was the wet drip of blood on stone.

  Luke’s ears stayed pinned back, and his tail tucked. Themeil crouched down and reassuringly rubbed his side. “It’s okay, boy.”

  He didn’t understand how the Oracle had done it, only that she had. Killing so fast and effortlessly. Like snapping a rabbit’s neck. But she didn’t even touch him!

  Finally, the silence was broken when someone said, “Y-You killed him!” Luke understood those three words well.

  Her head tilted as she turned her hand to look at it. She seemed just as surprised as anyone else. Not guilty, just surprised. “Oops,” she whispered.

  The word didn’t fit the room. It was too small for the blood pooling beneath the dead councilman’s face and trickling down the stairs one step at a time.

  “Th-This is unacceptable,” one dared to say. He looked like he instantly regretted it and started glancing left and right over his shoulder as if thinking he should now run.

  The Oracle blinked slowly, and the purple of her eyes pulsed with brighter illumination. Her brows raised as she looked to the sky, and her expression slowly turned to something less confused and more like wonderment.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh, no. It’s okay.”

  The councilors' stiff postures tensed even more, as if they suddenly turned to the same stone architecture that surrounded them.

  “Yes… Several very dark paths have just vanished,” she explained, voice calm and almost pleased. “I suppose he would have one day done something very stupid.”

  The councilmen looked amongst each other uncertainly.

  She began turning her gaze through the air, eyes widening with excitement as her smile spread across her face. “Yes. I almost have to wonder… If I were to repeat that action on the rest of you, would there be… more positive changes?”

  “O-Oracle, w-we ought to adjourn this meeting,” one stammered as he slinked behind a stone seat as if using it as a shield.

  “Let me explain something,” she said, still distantly. “You all dealt with Oracles before me. You’ve occupied these halls far longer than I, and therefore, I can forgive your arrogance in thinking you know better. But understand, without ever experiencing this power firsthand, you cannot possibly know what it’s like.”

  She lowered her gaze, brow narrowing once again as her voice became stern once more. “There is a vast ocean between knowing what can happen and what will happen. Demanding answers from me is like demanding the precise location of a fish in the sea.”

  She began to pace, back and forth, her hooves clopping against the stone with each step. “When I reached for this power, I grabbed it like a knife from a corpse. I did so thinking I would have the kinds of answers you seek. But it did not whisper the future in neat little sentences that you can write down and feel comforted by.”

  She stopped.

  “It gave me sight. And that sight is not a map. It is a storm. A storm that grows darker every day.”

  She straightened her posture. “We did not cause this. When those barbarians attacked the beast of the vale, when they stole his young, they set off a chain of events that will consume this world. There are flickers of light behind the storm, but the clouds are dense. Yet, one of those fleeting rays stands before you right now.” She turned suddenly, pointing at Luke and Themiel. Themiel’s reassuring touch against Luke’s side tightened. “There is one answer I do have for you. And that is that the transmigrator does, in fact, still live. If Themiel had come back with her instead of one of her brothers, perhaps the storm would look quite different, but perhaps not. What I can tell you for sure is that he has, in fact, parted the clouds, even if ever so slightly. If ever you should think you know better and decide to take matters into your own hands, then hear my words. Because if any harm comes to them, then whatever light might still remain may vanish completely.”

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