As I float in the cave, my eyes drift back to the core—my core.
It's just sitting there. Nestled awkwardly in a slight incline of dirt and loose stone, like someone dropped it there without a second thought. Exposed. Vulnerable.
...My heart's been sitting on the floor, I think, a ripple of discomfort tightening in my chest. There's a flicker of disgust… but more than that, worry.
This thing—this core—is me. And it's just lying there like a paperweight someone forgot to put away.
That won't do.
I raise my hand instinctively, ready to will the earth to shift, to carve something worthy beneath me—but I freeze.
What if my core falls while I raise it? A cold thought prickles at the edge of my mind. That would be such an embarrassing way to die… crushed by myself.
I slowly lower my hand.
Yeah. I'll wait for Fowler to get back. No reason to risk… you know… self-shattering.
I turn around, my gaze settling on the entrance of the cave. The dim light outside barely creeps in, casting long shadows along the stone walls.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try to focus. I haven't done this before—not consciously. I search for the connection between me and Fowler, that thin, invisible thread that ties us together. At first, there's nothing—just silence, darkness, and the faint hum of mana. But then… something stirs. A pulse. Faint. Familiar.
I reach for it.
"Come back," I say through the connection, my voice echoing in a place deeper than sound.
Then I wait—floating in the quiet of the cave, my gaze fixed on the entrance, expecting his loping silhouette to reappear at any moment.
It takes a few moments, but eventually, Fowler returns. He lumbers through the entrance, his sharp eyes glowing faintly in the dim cave light. Without a word, he steps forward and places his makeshift bag on the ground in front of me. It's stitched together from leaves, bark, and woven vines—rugged, but functional.
Before I can even thank him, the bag shimmers softly—and then begins to dissolve.
Mana.
The entire bag, along with everything inside it, melts into glowing wisps of energy and flows straight into me—into the core. I blink, startled, and glance down at myself as a warm pulse travels through my core. I feel it—just a little. Like I've taken a sip of something refreshing after a long, dry wait.
More energy. More awareness.
I stare in silence for a second, stunned.
Wow… how did I do that? I think to myself, trying to recall if I willed that to happen or if it happened just because I wanted it to.
I shake off the momentary stupor and turn my gaze toward Fowler, who watches me with quiet, attentive eyes.
"I have a name for you—and your species," I say with a smile, my voice steady, warm.
Fowler's eyes change almost immediately—deepening with reverence, glowing faintly in the dim light. He steps back slightly, then bows low, one hand crossing his chest in a strange, instinctive gesture of respect.
"My master… you honor me," he says, his voice once again steeped in that same fervent, worshipful tone he had when I first awoke.
It's not just respect… it's devotion. Like everything I do only adds to something he's already decided about me. Something unshakable.
I float there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. All I did was absorb the contents of a makeshift bag… right?
I raise my hand, a gentle reprimand in my tone. "I told you not to bow to me, remember?"Before Fowler can sit back up, I add with a smile, "Your name is Fowler, and you are a Noctherin."
The words hang in the air, calm but certain—like I'm setting something important in motion.Fowler hesitates for a moment, then slowly rises, his reverent eyes locking onto mine with a mixture of awe and gratitude. It's as if the name itself carries weight beyond just sound—something that defines him, ties him to me, and to this strange new world we share.
He bows again, but this time more softly, almost shyly, as if learning how to carry the honor without losing himself.
I can't help but feel a small surge of something—responsibility, maybe, or hope.
Before I can say anything else, a sudden surge of mana flows from me, wrapping around Fowler like a living shadow. His grayish-black fur darkens, rich and deep as night. The limp in his step vanishes—his feet shift and strengthen, steady now. His eyes transform, becoming an almost glowing black, intense and focused. His teeth sharpen, straighter and more menacing, and sharp claws sprout from his hands, gleaming with a dangerous edge.
As his transformation finishes, a wave of fatigue washes over me—I feel a bit weaker, heavier, like the mana I just poured out took more from me than I expected. Before I can say anything, Fowler's voice breaks the silence.
"My master, I thank you for this gift," he says. His words are smoother now, no longer awkward or crude like before. The reverence and worship remain in his tone, but it's softer, more controlled—like he's truly begun to understand what I meant when I told him not to be a zealot.
It's like he's learning to balance devotion with awareness, growing into something more than just a servant.
I smile quietly to myself, impressed. Wow, his transformation fixed most of the things I saw wrong with his body. Before I say anything to Fowler, I begin to float around him, inspecting every detail. He is the perfect night hunter, I think, noting the way his darker fur blends seamlessly with the shadows and how his sharper claws and stronger limbs speak of speed and power.
Though I wish I knew how to control this power better—then I could do so much more. I glance back down at Fowler and shake my head slightly. Maybe I'll try it on something dead first, I think to myself, the idea sparking both curiosity and caution.