Entry 3: The Mentor’s Trust
Age 18 - Advanced Scout Training
Whisper-Steps has been teaching me the forbidden techniques.
Not forbidden by law - forbidden by common sense. The kind of shadow-work that our ancestors used before the Apostasy, when the Veiled Gods still watched over us and the world hadn’t yet learned to fear every unusual gift as potential corruption.
Today he finally said what we’d both been thinking: “The Reachguard Elders are wrong about you.”
We were practicing in the deep roots beneath Thornhaven Reach, where the ancient fungal networks create natural shadow-mazes and the air tastes of earth and secrets. He’d been training me in combat positions that only make sense if you can teleport - angles of attack that would be suicide for anyone bound by normal physics.
“Show me everything,” he commanded.
So I did. Shadow-stepped across the cavern, appeared behind him silent as corruption spreading through healthy wood. Demonstrated the “theoretical threat response” techniques he’d been teaching me - approaches that matched exactly what I see in my increasingly vivid visions.
His reaction surprised me. Instead of the caution I’d grown used to, he laughed. Actually laughed, like he’d been holding his breath for years and could finally exhale.
“I’ve been hoping you’d trust me enough to share the truth,” he admitted. “Do you know what you are?”
I shook my head, though I suspected.
“Oracle-touched,” he whispered, the words barely audible even in our underground sanctuary. “The old stories speak of scouts who could walk between shadows, who saw threats before they manifested. Not corruption - gift. Responsibility.”
He told me about the ancient times, before the God-King Othedias disappointed the Veiled Gods and brought the Umbra down upon our world. About scouts who served as early warning systems, who could see the corruption patterns spreading and act before communities were overwhelmed.
“The visions you see,” he explained, “they’re warnings. The Last Wolf Pack sends them to those capable of acting on them.”
For the first time in years, I’m not afraid of what I might become. The shadow-stepping feels less like corruption and more like coming home to abilities I was always meant to have.
But the dreams are darker now. More frequent. I see corruption creeping through our people like poison through the root-network. I see Whisper-Steps with eyes that glow wrong, reaching for me with claws where his fingers should be.
Most terrifying of all, I see myself standing over his body with blood on my hands and grief carved into my heart.
These visions feel different from the others. More immediate. More certain.
Please, let this one be wrong.
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