The god, now known as Kael, and Fenrir set off for Silverford. The two-day march that Elmsworth had estimated shrank to half a day as Kael rode on the back of the mighty wolf, whose paws barely seemed to touch the forest floor. The wind whistled past his ears, and the landscape flew by, a green and brown blur.

  In the midst of their journey, as the sun began to lean towards noon, Fenrir stopped abruptly, ears pricked, nostrils flaring. Kael, who had grown accustomed to the wolf's rhythm, nearly fell off. "What is it, wolf?" he asked, his voice sharp with surprise.

  "I smell blood, Ancient One," Fenrir replied, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated beneath Kael's palms. "A lot of blood. And not from a simple hunt. The intensity... the fear that resonates within it... it must be a battle. Not far from here, near the old trade road."

  Kael frowned. A battle? What did the fate of any mortals matter to him? "And why are we stopping for this? What concern is it of ours?"

  Fenrir turned his great head slightly and looked at Kael with his intelligent, golden eyes. "I may have passed on my post as chief guardian of this forest, Ancient One, but my oath still binds me. As long as I dwell in these woods, it is my duty to maintain a certain measure of order, especially when innocents are threatened. These are the outskirts of my old territory."

  Kael sighed inwardly. The tiresome principles of these creatures. But he understood. He too had once had principles, laws he upheld – even if they were of a more cosmic scale. Let them tear each other apart... but this wolf is useful, and a test of my limits wouldn't hurt. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "If it is your duty..."

  "I also sense fear, Ancient One. The fear of the weak," Fenrir added, his voice softening. "It might be an opportunity... to see what is happening?" Kael impatiently patted Fenrir's fur. "Quickly then. Humans and their ridiculous disputes do not interest me in the slightest. But if it must be..." "We will make it quick, Ancient One," Fenrir assured him and set off again, this time more cautiously, his senses sharpened.

  They left the dense forest and approached a wide, well-worn dirt track – the trade road. Fenrir remained in the shadow of a dense group of trees that offered a good view of the scene. Kael peered through. His human eyes were still an insult compared to his former divine perception – he missed the ability to discern every detail for miles, to sense the aura of every living being. Yet even with these limited senses, the picture that presented itself to him was clear.

  A single traveling carriage stood crookedly on the road, one wheel broken. In front of it and beside it lay the lifeless bodies of a man and a woman, obviously the owners or guards, in their own blood. Six coarse figures in worn leather armor and with drawn weapons surrounded the carriage. They were well-armed but seemed more like common bandits than disciplined soldiers. The victims, on the other hand... peasants, perhaps small merchants.

  Two other people were still alive: a young woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old, with a torn dress and a dirt-smeared face, and a much younger girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, who clung to her with large, frightened eyes. The bandits had already seized them.

  "A pretty prize, isn't it?" sneered one of the men, a fellow with an ugly scar across his cheek, roughly grabbing the young woman's arm. "We'll surely get a good price for her on the slave market in the swamps. Looks so innocent." Another, a fat man with thinning hair, grinned lewdly and eyed the little girl. "And this little one here... give her a few years, then she'll fetch a pretty penny too. A good catch today!"

  Kael felt Fenrir's muscles tense beneath him, a low growl vibrating through the thick fur. The god himself was indifferent to the fate of these humans. Let them slaughter and sell each other, what did it matter to him? But he sensed the wolf's burgeoning anger, whose sense of duty apparently ran deep. And, he had to reluctantly admit, a first real combat experience against armed opponents might not be bad for testing his newly learned skills.

  "What now, Ancient One?" Fenrir asked quietly, his voice a suppressed growl. Kael hesitated. He had never fought against multiple armed enemies in this body before. "How many of them can you take out quickly, wolf? What's left for me?"

  Fenrir snorted softly. "Four of them are no problem for me. Quick and silent. The other two would be yours, Ancient One." Two. That sounded manageable, even for his limited abilities.

  At that moment, one of the bandits, apparently the leader – a tall man with a scarred face and cold eyes – gave an order: "Set the damned carriage on fire! We don't want to leave any traces." The young woman screamed, tears streaming down her face as she tried to comfort the crying girl. "No, please! Our parents! Our things are still in there!" Her pleas went unheard.

  One of the bandits, a scrawny fellow with a sparkling amulet around his neck, stepped forward and raised his hands. Kael sensed a faint magical energy, barely more than a flicker. The bandit muttered a few words, and a small flame flickered between his hands, about as strong as Kael's own flames after his first month with Elmsworth. He was about to throw it onto the carriage.

  But before the flame could reach its target, it fizzled out with a soft hiss. Just like that. The bandits stared at each other in confusion. "What the hell, Magus?" the leader roared at the scrawny man. "You said you were one of the best underground mages in the area! Why can't you even manage a simple fire?" The mage looked around nervously, his eyes darting to the edge of the forest. "I... I don't know, boss! It was as if... as if something extinguished my magic! Another magic!"

  Kael suppressed a cold smile. With a barely perceptible touch of his wind magic, he had smothered the flame – weak enough not to be noticed, but effective. "Well done, Ancient One," Fenrir whispered admiringly. "Subtle and effective."

  Kael thought for a moment. Normally, he thought with a touch of his old arrogance, I would attack head-on and burn this rabble to ashes in a second. But in this pathetic shell... He was aware of his limitations. A direct attack on six armed men, even if one of them was an incompetent mage, carried risks.

  He slid off Fenrir's back. "Wolf," he said softly. "You once mentioned you could hide in shadows?" Fenrir nodded, his golden eyes glowing in the twilight of the undergrowth. "That is correct, Ancient One." "Could you do that with my shadow too? Remain invisible within it?" A moment of consideration, then Fenrir nodded again. "It requires concentration, but yes, it is possible."

  "Good," Kael said, and a plan formed in his mind. "Then do it. Hide in my shadow. I will step out alone. I will give a... demonstration of my wind magic to attract their attention and perhaps intimidate them. As soon as the fight begins, as soon as they focus on me, you will emerge from the shadow. Eliminate as many as possible, as quickly as possible. I'll take care of the rest."

  Fenrir tilted his head. "A good plan, Ancient One. Cunning." He hesitated for a moment. "But... the girls. Try not to hurt them, if possible. I know mortals are just vermin to you, but they are innocent."

  Kael snorted softly. Collateral damage usually didn't bother him. But Fenrir's loyalty was useful, and a small favor cost him nothing. "Accidents can happen, wolf," he replied coolly. "But for your sake, I will try to avoid the unnecessary killing of these particular vermin."

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  "Thank you, Ancient One," Fenrir murmured. With a movement so fluid it seemed barely perceptible, the huge wolf merged with the shadow Kael cast on the forest floor. For a moment, the shadow seemed to deepen, to darken, then nothing more was visible than Kael's normal outline, drawn by the midday sun. Kael, however, felt a cool, watchful presence at his feet, a silent assurance that Fenrir was ready.

  On the road, the bandits were growing impatient. "Come on, Magus, try again!" the leader urged. "I want this box burning before anyone comes by!" The scrawny mage raised his trembling hands again, concentrated, muttered his formula. Again Kael sensed the faint magical energy. This was the moment.

  Kael stepped out from the shadow of the trees onto the sunlit road. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly, and reached for the wind magic within and around him. He called not only upon the trickle of his own power but also drew upon the energy of the wind rustling through the trees, bundled it, shaped it with his iron will into something far more powerful than he had ever attempted before. It was a feat of strength that pushed his body to its limits, causing a painful tugging in his chest as he forced the energy through the blockage. He felt the air around him condense, an invisible vortex forming.

  Just as the mage summoned his small flame again, Kael let go. A howl filled the air, not from a wolf, but from the wind itself. A sudden, brutal gust swept across the road, so fierce that it whipped up dust and leaves and made the trees at the edge of the forest groan. The mage's small flame was extinguished like a candle in a storm. The bandits, surprised and unprepared, were knocked off their feet by the sheer force of the wind. They stumbled, fell, their weapons flying from their hands. The heavy traveling carriage, already damaged, groaned under the pressure and tipped over completely onto its side with a loud crash.

  Kael gasped slightly, feeling a tremor in his arms. The effort had been greater than he had expected. The blockage within him seemed to resist this sudden, strong flow of energy. The sudden silence after the gust of wind was almost deafening, broken only by the whimpering of the little girl and the gasping of the bandits as they struggled to get back on their feet. They looked around, confused and frightened.

  "What was that? By the Abyss, what was that?" stammered one of the men, rubbing his head. "A dragon!" gasped another, his eyes wide with panic. "Only a dragon can make such wind!" "Nonsense!" growled the mage, who was also getting up. "That was magic! Strong magic! Maybe... maybe the guardian spirit of the forest?"

  "Shut up, you idiots!" roared the leader, trying to regain control, though he too was visibly shaken. "That's all old wives' tales! Probably just a sudden whirlwind!" Then his gaze fell on the figure standing calmly at the edge of the forest, the sun at his back, so that his face was in shadow: Kael.

  The leader stared at him incredulously, then burst into loud laughter, though it sounded forced and nervous. "You?" he cried mockingly, pointing his sword at Kael. "Are you trying to tell me you did that, boy? With that magic?" He laughed again. "A little squirt like you? Such a gust of wind... not even a damned court mage can do that! Maybe a handful of the oldest archmages in their towers, but certainly not some runaway brat!" He grinned scornfully. "What do you want here? Got lost?"

  Kael's face remained hidden in shadow, but his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Mockery. From this lowly vermin. How dared he? A deep, cold fire began to smolder in his chest, hotter and more uncontrollable than any flame he had summoned so far. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles showing white. He wanted to stifle that laughter, to obliterate that arrogant face. He gathered his magic, felt it seething beneath his skin, ready to erupt.

  Then he heard a soft voice in his mind, a cool whisper from the shadow at his feet: "Ancient One... the girls... spare them, please." Fenrir's warning pierced the red mist of his anger for a fraction of a second. He hesitated. Then he made a decision. Not mercy, but efficiency. He would destroy this scum, but he would do it in a way that respected Fenrir's request – and at the same time demonstrated his power.

  With an icy smile that no one could see, Kael raised both hands. He drew not only on his inner fire but also on the wind energy he had previously summoned. He mixed the elements, forced them together, a dangerous, unstable combination. The air around him began to shimmer and crackle. The effort made him tremble again, a stabbing pain throbbing behind his forehead.

  "An inferno?" screamed one of the bandits as he felt the growing energy, panic in his voice. "He's a demon!"

  "You wanted fire?" Kael hissed, his voice now sounding strange, deeper, more menacing. "Then you shall have fire!" He thrust his hands forward. A massive wall of swirling flames, fed and driven by the wind, shot across the road. It was wider and taller than anything he had ever created before, a roaring monstrosity of heat and destruction. It engulfed the scrawny mage and two other bandits before they could even react. Their screams were instantly swallowed by the roar of the flames. The wall of fire swept on, setting the overturned carriage and the dry trees on the opposite edge of the forest ablaze.

  The leader and the two remaining bandits were luckier – or had quicker reflexes. They threw themselves aside at the last moment, rolling across the dusty ground and narrowly escaping the direct impact of the firestorm. Panting and scorched, the leader scrambled to his feet, staring with horrified eyes at the burning swath and then at Kael. The mockery had vanished from his face, replaced by sheer terror.

  "A demon..." he whispered. He dropped his sword and threw himself to his knees, his face pressed into the dust. He might have been a brutal oaf, but he was experienced enough to recognize that he stood no chance against this kind of power. "Mercy!" he whimpered. "We surrender! Mercy, Lord Demon!"

  Kael slowly approached the kneeling leader, trying to suppress his own trembling. The massive discharge of magic had cost him more strength than he cared to admit. "Fenrir," he said softly, his voice normal again, but ice-cold and slightly strained. "Take care of the other two. Silence that mocking vermin forever."

  As if from nowhere, Fenrir materialized from Kael's shadow, a huge, dark figure with glowing eyes. He shot silently like an arrow towards the two surviving bandits, who were just trying to sneak away. They froze at the sight of the wolf, their screams dying in their throats as Fenrir's fangs snapped shut. It was a short, brutal slaughter.

  Kael ignored it and stopped in front of the leader. He placed his foot on the back of the man's head and pressed him deeper into the dust. "Who's laughing now, worm?" he asked softly.

  "No one, Lord! No one is laughing!" the leader choked out, his voice muffled by the ground. "Please, spare me! I'll give you everything! Gold, the women, everything we have! Take it, but let me live!"

  Kael slowly lifted his foot from the man's head. He pretended to consider, enjoying the bandit's fear. "All your money? And valuables?" he asked coolly.

  "Yes, yes! Everything!" cried the leader, jumping to his feet immediately. He knew escape was futile. Trembling, he collected the meager pouches of his fallen comrades, pulled rings from their fingers, and tore the still-sparkling amulet from the charred mage's neck. He placed everything in a pile before Kael and knelt humbly again. "Here, Lord! Everything we own! A deal? My life for the valuables? The women are included, of course!"

  Kael looked at the small pile of plunder – a few coins, cheap jewelry, the amulet – then at the whimpering man. A deal? With this scum? The idea was ridiculous. He had never agreed to a deal. He bent down, however, and took the bag of coins and the amulet. Resources were resources, no matter how dirty they were.

  Fenrir returned, blood dripping from his muzzle. His gaze was impenetrable as he stood beside Kael, looking down at the leader. No disapproval, but also no approval could be read in his eyes. "What now, Ancient One?" he asked in Kael's mind.

  Kael looked at the kneeling bandit, whose eyes were full of false hope when he saw Kael take the loot. Then he raised his hand towards him. "No one," he said loudly, his voice echoing across the clearing, "who dares to treat me – me – with disrespect will live to tell the tale!"

  Hate, cold and pure, gathered in his palm. He drew the energy out of himself, shaping it into a gleaming fireball that pulsed in the midday sun. The leader screamed, recognizing the betrayal, tried to jump up, but it was too late. Kael released the fireball. With a deafening hiss, it struck the bandit, who could only utter a gurgling scream before being consumed by the flames. His body collapsed into a charred, smoking heap.

  Silence descended upon the clearing, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the forest and the soft whimpering of the little girl. Kael surveyed his work, a feeling of cold satisfaction flowing through him, mixed with deep exhaustion. The first lesson had been taught: respect was enforced by fear, and mercy was a weakness he could not afford.

  He took a deep breath, feeling the throbbing behind his forehead and the emptiness in his energy reserves. He cast one last, contemptuous glance at the charred corpses and the burning carriage. Then he turned away. The surviving girls no longer concerned him. They had witnessed his power – that would have to suffice.

  Fenrir materialized again at his side, his shadow merging with the god's. "Onward, wolf," Kael said softly, his voice hoarse with exertion. "To Silverford."