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Since she had started using the Vanguard to move around, Kaja had been missing having a body a lot less. But in this moment, she felt like she was missing out on something amazing more than usual.
As she had figured, Enok’s transformation into a drifter had involved a lot of energy. But it didn’t violently unleash it in an explosion, it consumed it.
Looking at the coming his way, Enok couldn’t help but let out a sad chuckle.
“Still so confident, still so prideful,” he murmured to himself.
His pride had once again made him act without any caution and made him underestimate his opponents. He wasn’t a god anymore. Just another mortal. Another mortal about to fail a test set up by other mortals.
He gritted his teeth, shaking his head.
When the light disappeared, Enok found himself wearing clothes he didn’t recognize. They were simple tight fitting white shirt and short with light shoes that were definitely not suited for traveling.
He was still in the throne room, except it was now illuminated by sunlight entering through a glass dome that was the ceiling.
Enoch stared at the words with horror, trying to think of a single instance he could have heard of something similar, during his whole existence.
The inner world was ever-evolving by nature, since it was tied to mortals’ psyches. One couldn’t willingly make changes to it, but experiences that mentally affected someone would in turn cause sensible changes to their inner world.
The smell of wood was the first thing to assault Enoch’s senses when he woke up, followed by the thoughts of his worried sister.
How are you feeling?
He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar wooden ceiling.
“Horrible,” he replied, grimacing, “It’s like my whole body was trampled by a pack of rhynophants.”
She chuckled.
“The Sun! Finally!”
Like some spirit straight from the underworld, a cloaked figure emerged from the dense fog that was surrounding the the entire land of Alfheim.
The piece of cloth that was wrapped around his upper body was all torn up, and wasn’t offering that much of a protection anymore. The only remnants of his past armor, greaves and gauntlets, were dented and covered by lacerations marks.
Each of the boy’s heavy footsteps were accompanied of a metallic sound made by the contact of his boots and the rocky ground, troubling the decades old silence of these parts of the Edge, the border of the world.
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