Waking felt like surfacing from the depths of a dark and distant ocean. My head was a fog of drowsy confusion, but as I pushed myself up, sensations came back in fragments, scattered yet sharp. I felt the soil press against my paws, the faint breeze lifting the edges of my fur, and the shadows lengthening beneath the weight of the setting sun. Trees stretched high around me, their branches tangled in a net of deep greens and blues that felt hauntingly familiar, yet as strange as a half-remembered dream. The scents of damp earth and foliage filled the air, subtle and grounding, and, somehow, comforting.

  As my gaze shifted upward, I glimpsed patches of sky—fading blue slowly surrendering to night, as though dusk pulled the world into its quiet grip. The last of the sunlight clung to the edges of the horizon, casting a golden haze over the clearing. I felt its warmth against my back, a touch I hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity, though I wasn’t sure if I’d truly been gone that long. As I took in my surroundings, the last light of the day sank lower, casting golden fingers through the branches above, stretching shadows across the clearing like the long arms of night itself. A memory brushed the edge of my mind, fading just before I could reach it. I shook off the thought, fixing my attention on what was here and now.

  Glancing down, I saw my paws—smaller than they’d once been, sleek and powerful, with claws that glinted faintly in the dusk. Black fur, threaded with hints of silver, caught the waning sunlight like liquid metal. Patches of scales, tougher than any armor, traced up my forelegs, shoulders, and across the bridge of my snout. I stretched, feeling the weight and strength in each limb, but something was missing. Instinctively, I turned, searching for wings that weren’t there. The absence struck like a stone to the chest. Their absence left me feeling… unwhole.

  A sharp crack echoed through the trees, breaking the silence. I froze, ears angling toward the sound. Out from the undergrowth stumbled two goblins, their squat forms almost blending with the shadows. Their eyes gleamed a sickly yellow, and I could feel their greedy anticipation even from a distance. They wore nothing but tattered cloth, their hands wrapped around crude weapons—a broken club in one, a handful of stones in the other. The sight of them stirred an old, familiar disgust.

  Stolen story; please report.

  A growl rose in my throat, low and warning, as old instincts flared up, but my limbs still felt the drag of fatigue. I hadn’t felt this weak since my first evolution, a vulnerability I had thought long behind me. I could feel the effects of the cursed gem still lingering, its touch stripping away nearly a third of my Soul Energy and sealing the rest. I had used the last of my reserves to regain a semblance of my former strength—just enough to escape and destroy Stormfell. I needed to replenish my reserves. That, however, could wait for now.

  The goblins muttered in their garbled tongue, their broken words hinting at an intent I understood too well. But I would not be made prey. Not by them, not by anyone.

  As they squabbled, I moved—swift, fluid, my body a shadow among the trees. Despite the ache of exhaustion, my instincts took over, carrying me farther with every step. The goblins’ angry shouts grew distant as I slipped through narrow spaces, over roots and stones, navigating the forest like a creature born of it. Each leap and bound drained me further, but I pushed on, my mind fixed only on getting as far from them as possible. Finally, their clumsy pursuit fell away, leaving me in the quiet, heavy air of the forest.

  Eventually, I slowed, breath evening out as the forest grew thicker. In a small clearing, I rolled in a patch of mud, masking my scent—a small measure of security, though goblins’ noses were hardly sharp. Still, I could feel the weight of this weakened state pressing on me like a cage. Though goblins had poor olfactory senses, other creatures could still track me. Concealing my scent was a wise precaution.

  As dusk gave way to full night, I moved to a dense thicket, curling up beneath its sheltering branches. They formed a cocoon around me, rough but solid. My muscles relaxed as I sank into the shadows, my breathing slowing.

  My eyes drifted upward, catching a glimpse of those distant lights through the leaves, a reminder of a time when the skies had been mine to soar.

  The stars watched over me as they always had, though now their light felt more distant. Yet they would guide me; they always had, and they always would.

  May the stars light my path and guide me back to the power I once earned.