To get Zethyla 3 – Meeting a goddess

Uklag stands still. Behind him is the Estaran plain, a vast see of grass with the occasional small group of woods. In the distance a field of corn, a single house, even further away a burning cart. In front of him is the beginning of a vast and dense forest. The only thing he can see is brown and green. It is everywhere. With a sigh, and after checking that his compass works one final time, he takes his first steps into the woods.

It does not take long for the trees to encircle him. “Fucking forests.” He mumbles as he steeps deeper and deeper into it, his head looking straightforward. There is no use in keeping an eye out for Zethyla here, the plant only grows in the most natural of habitants and the outskirts of this forest are frequently visited by huntress’ or woodcutters.

That doesn’t stop him from feeling uneasy though. As somebody who grew up in the desert and is used to vast open seas of sand or the comfort of his own base this halfway-enclosed space feels weird to him. Trees block out most of the sunlight with their increasingly thick ceiling of leafs and needles, the brown ground covered in the trees last year’s clothes and moss. Lots and lots of moss.

Uklag shudders and continues onwards. Truth be told part of the reason he wanted to be alone on this journey is that didn’t want anybody to see him in this state. He is Uklag, warlock and master, destroyer of gates indestructible, constructor of enchantments so powerful the world trembles before them.

Being afraid of forests just doesn’t sound like a particularly great thing to add to that resume. He stops in fron of a particularly giant tree of a moment and musters it.

The tree is about five times as thick as the other ones in the forests and looks ancient. Its deep brown bark mostly standing the test of time only shows a few clefts as Uklag walks around its immense girth. He is not sure how high the tree is, it extends over the other already high trees and vanishes from view. A few white leaves tumble down to the forest ground as a soft gust of wind blows through the forest. Uklag stops at a withered wooden building in front of the tree. From the look of it, it might have been a shrine but it is covered in moss and worn down by rain and time that it could be anything else as well.

“Uklag.” A faint sweet voice says. The warlock looks around and sees a naked figure step from behind a nearby tree. The figure is a woman of brown skin, like his own, with slightly matted black hair. Her elegantly curved chin and high cheekbones make her quite a beauty and she walks at him with swaying lips. Uklag nows this woman, “Jartza.” He says with surprise, “You can’t be here.” “But I am, Uklag.” She says and leans against him, her head pressed against his chest she listens to his heartbeat.

Jartza had been one of the many women that exchanged her body for some of his enchantments back at the tribe. She was also the only one out of all of them that he liked outside of their bodies. She was always aware that she would never be able to permanently bind himself to her, she always got straight to the point and had a good sense of humour about it, making these nights with her more entertaining than simple pleasures of flesh.

Uklag grabs Jartza by the shoulders and forces her to take a step back. The brown-skinned woman seems confused. “What is it?” she asks. “No really.” Uklag says, his eyes ice-cold. “You can’t be here, my sister killed you. I don’t know who or what you are but I don’t take lightly to anyone reading my mind.”

The being, whatever it is, doesn’t get another chance to speak as she is suddenly assaulted by a lethal amount of electricity running from the warlock’s hands. “This forest already annoys the fuck out of me.” Ge mumbles and let’s go of the corpse. He turns around to leave and takes a few steps before stopping again, waiting for that loud ‘Thud’ of a corpse hitting the ground.

“Now that is just rude.” A melodic, ladylike voice bothered says. Uklag storms around on his heels, staff ready to defend himself. Jartza is gone, instead a woman of supernatural beauty stands there. Her blonde wavy hair falls down all the way to her hips in small strands. Her hourglass figure is completely revealed to Uklag but his eyes concentrate on the ram horns that grow from each side of her head and some root-like things that sprout up her legs.

“Why kill a vision of a love long gone, human?” She scolds the stunned warlock. “And here I give you the chance to have on more night with her.” “First off, I didn’t love her, she only was less annoying then the rest, second off, not particularly interested.” Uklag says in respone, “Now for what reason would you dare spy on my mind, spirit?”

“Spirit? I am Hayth, protector of this and every other forest, not some lowly spirit, mage.” She says, “But enough of this, if you don’t want to sleep with a girl of your past, maybe you prefer these forms?” She morphs into Aelana, Catherine, Halja and every other girl that Uklag has recently come across. Finally she stops at the form of the blonde with the ram horns again.

“Or do you prefer this true body of mine.” “No thanks, I’m not a necrophiliac.” He says in a deadpan voice. “Wha- How dare you!” She says genuinely offended. “You spirits always have to possess something to take on physical form, I don’t care how powerful you are Hayth but you are still just a possessed corpse with a good amount of illusions clad around it.” Uklag explains and yawns, lowering his staff as he feels no danger coming from this being.

“Some worship me as a goddess.” “Well, I don’t. Gods don’t exist anyway; there are only more and less powerful beings. I’m not convinced you are in the absurdly powerful category.” The lady of the forest seems at a loss for words, the few times mortals actually refuse her they are at least very polite about it. This man just keeps insulting her.

“By the way, look up.” Uklag says with a grin as he points upwards. With some unwillingness she does, only to see a giant icicle hanging above her. “Goodbye, next time spy on somebody else’s mind.” The icicle falls down with the sharp sound of cracking ice. Hayth catches the several tens of kilograms heavy mass of ice in her left hand with ease, leaving Uklag at a loss of words for a change.

“Now that does it. I can live with being shunned, human, but your behaviour is just uncalled for. Trying to kill me twice? I demand your name!” Uklag raises an eyebrow, ‘This banishment is going to take a bit, might as well…’ “Uklag.”

“Mage Uklag, I curse you for intrusion upon my forest and my honour as a Dryad.” Uklag throws a fireball at her. It passes the air where Hayth just stood and slams into the giant tree with the white leafs behind her, leaving a scorch mark on the ancient bark.

“From everywhere and nowhere the ladies echoes through the forest. “I will watch you.” Uklag sighs and extinguishes the second fireball he had already created in his fist. “Fucking spirits” he mumbles and walks off, continuing to curse. “Suddenly appear, try to fuck you as a possessed corpse and then leave when they are bored. Indecisive balls of magical bullshit.”

He walks east, following his compass. For an hour he simply walks and walks until another tree with white leafs catches his eye. It looks eerily similar to the last one. ‘That is because it is the last one.’ He realizes as his eyes fall on the scorch mark. “How? I only went in one direction.” He looks down at his compass. Like a child whose has just been exposed the compass needle bends into a mischievous smile before the whole contraption suddenly explodes into a shower of small metal parts.

“I cursed you, Uklag.” He looks up and finds Hayth sitting atop a branch of the white-leafed tree, eating an apple. “You will wanted this realm of mine until you are truly sorry. Looking at you thoughts that might be a while. That is of no matter to me however, I still have some other business on the north, in the land that you call Atmor, also I have all the time in the world.” She suddenly disappears, the apple she had been eating failing into Uklag’s hand below her. “A parting gift.” The leafs whisper.

Uklag stands there. Stunned. He looks down from the tree. At the apple. He look up again. The branch is still empty. He looks back at the apple. The scorch mark. The collapsed shrine. He throws the apple at three. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”