*****
A strapping adolescent, Steffor was already bigger and stronger than many young adults. Yet his station in life remained undetermined.
The kuwani season was at its peak and yet another long day of harvesting the exotic fruit had ended. The fruit's sweet aroma, mixed with pungent sweat, steeped into weathered smocks and worn breeches. Odor from the day’s labor hung thick in the air, trapped by the canopy of colossal leaves overhead.
Steffor and his father wended a narrow branch as thoughts of a warm meal and peaceful sleep crept in, motivating weary bodies to forge toward home. Dozens of harvest Shifters—their family, neighbors and closest friends—each worn to the bone and exhausted from the day's labor, joined their commute along adjacent leafstalks; gratification with the day's work displayed on every face and bent back.
By nightfall, the multitude of stalks had merged into one branch, herding them together to form a loose line, two to six abreast. Deep canopy thinned to reveal the sky full of early evening stars and the rise of Ginllats. The day's harvest hovered a few hundred feet above, packed into a large freight car suspended by thick haulage vines. The cylindrical satellite cast a long shadow over their trail. Its silhouette, accentuated by the moon's bright green illumination, trudged along in silence.
They had left for home well before the car started to make its way toward Razum City, having now caught-up and slowly pulling ahead. The young Steffor visualized the burly vine Shifters. He imagined their naked trunks glistening from the coordinated and strenuous movements, shifting the elongated vines over miles of prairie bough. Hours of labor later, they would deliver the kuwani packed car to market that would in turn disperse it around the world.
They all watched the car whisper by overhead. Shameless pride washed across his father's weathered face, Steffor, grimed head to toe and reeking, content with the day but restless in the spirit.
"Why did you and mother choose to settle Maseriah?" Steffor asked as he turned his attention back toward the trail.
"Maseriah chose us, not the other way around."
The ardent glint in his father's eyes, so familiar whenever he spoke of higher powers, stifled Steffor's chortle at the thought of a place having the ability to choose anything, much less a Citizen. Instead, he nodded as if understanding and arched his brow with respect, imploring his father to elaborate.
Taking a long moment to ensure his son devoted all his attention to what he said next, his father continued his story. "Your mother and I, partnered for less than a season, were contributing as novice Shifters, our raw skills relegated to the mundane but important. I, maintenance of Razum's plethora of decks and pavilions, your mother, her budding gift for food put to use as preservative Shifter at the Market. We were active, honing our craft and staying patient. When the call of the Provider came, we would follow without hesitation."
"The sign came from the Mysticnet. Our minds flooded with the images of a young Guardian named Maseriah, safely returning home after being lost and presumed dead for over six months. His disappearance was big news and his return even bigger. We were mesmerized by his tale."
"Maseriah had discovered an uncharted branch while surveying the Constunkeen prairie bough, the very branch we travel today." His father spread his arms wide, turning side to side, to emphasize the novelty. "The branch had avoided detection over the seasons. This was due to how it jutted straight down before spreading outward to mingle just below the bifurcated branches located at the bough's end. His keen Guardian eye followed the camouflaged branch for miles and was elated to discover a thriving complex of unique flora. A young and confident Guardian and a fine Dive competitor to boot, Maseriah chose his path and leaped toward history."
"He admits, looking back at it, to not giving much thought to how he would return. The impulse to explore had overwhelmed him and he was now acting on instinct. Nor did he give much thought to the perilous act of getting down to the secluded branch."
By the tone of his voice and spark in his eye, Steffor sensed his father admired the young Guardian's temerity.
"Maseriah's point of entry was a low cliff found midway in the expansive fork. The path he chose was no less intricate or harrowing than a championship dive chute. With a long free fall to start, drove through copse of stalks and leaves, punching his way through leaf and stem. As broke free of dense foliage, he formed a Source sphere at the last second on a stalk not a half mile from where we stand, no wider than you are long."
Steffor had seen the images and from his young point of view, the success of Maseriah's dive was nothing short of a miracle.
"Safely on the branch, Maseriah set to exploring. Our branch displayed many unique and unseen growth patterns and foliage. After several days, fear began to grip the young Guardian as his search for food, water and a means to return to the prairie bough came up short. By the twenty-eighth day, his provisions gone for over a week, Maseriah collapsed in exhaustion. Lost to the catacomb of stalks, he prepared to pass and join the Provider."
Somaht, their village Mystic, had shown this story to Steffor dozens of times, both with and separate of Maseriah's in-person narration. His father was aware of this fact, having participated in most of the communal recitations. Yet he told the story as if for the first time. Out of respect and partially because he had learned to be patient whenever he asked his father a question, he opted to not vocalize his frustration.
Steffor genuinely wanted to know why his parents chose to live at the end of the Provider's longest and most dangerous limb, so far from the perceived safety of Razum City. Entranced by his father's diction, he could feel the palpable emotion surrounding his father's version of history. It always managed to reveal something new, aspects of the story neither Mystic, nor the man who experienced the events first hand, could evoke.
His father took a long drought from their water gourd. As he mopped his brow with the back of his hand, he passed the gourd over to Steffor. Refreshed, his father continued his story with a renewed gusto. "It was at this moment, his soul closer to the afterlife than the physical, that a rogue kuwani, hidden by its protective leaves, fell from above and landed on the back of Maseriah's head."
Recorded in the Deeds and believed by all as a true miracle, no one more than the Shifters who harvested the fruit appreciated this understatement. No person has ever witnessed the kuwani fruit separate from its stalk without outside intervention since that miraculous day. The fruit’s determination to stay connected to the Provider is legendary. Not only will it die on the vine but also refuses to fall until the next season's fruit appears. At which point it dissipated into an almost invisible sheen and floats away.
"Maseriah tore into the meaty flesh and gorged on its sweet nectar. The kuwani's abundant nutrients brought him back to life."
The climax of the story over, his father's spell began to fade. Steffor half listened to rest of the story. His mind wandered as his father described how Maseriah discovered the small stalk. How its elevation permitted the risk of leaping out and up to the small twig growing from Constunkeen's end. The broadcast of his story hit Mysticnet the moment he had crossed the prairie and came into range of a Mystic. The Provider's newest boomtown was born soon after.
All history he had learned since joining the whole as a small child. What he had not learned, the insight his young mind craved the most, was the reason his parents joined the first settlers of Maseriah. A question the Deeds could not answer yet an answer certain to shed more insight than the most important legend recorded.
Either sensing his son losing interest, or feeling he could now answer the original question, the change of his father's tone recaptured Steffor’s attention. "As is the case with every heroic act by a Guardian recorded in the Deeds, Maseriah's experience inspired us. But it was not the reason we felt compelled to join the expedition and establish the settlement of Maseriah."
"Similar to most other estuary villages, we built the village of Maseriah near the end of Constunkeen Prairie Bough
."
Steffor sighed with impatience as his father rambled on with his didactic lecture.
"Your mother and I, both being born and raised in Razum City, had never traveled outside the city’s protective confines. Educated about the prairie bough via Mysticnet, we gave the wilderness little thought up to that moment we witnessed Maseriah's journey. After that, we filled all idle and active time with images of the expansive bough. We studied how the limb varied in altitude according to its distance from Trunk. Many a night we spent testing each other’s knowledge of the limb’s rich biomes of mosses, giant lichens, fern stands, wild berry bushes. The exotic creatures, both beautiful and terrifying to behold, consumed our thoughts, sleeping and awake."
"As we know, the ends of the prairie bough beckon the harvest Shifter. We are Citizens who risk life to reap the Provider's abundant bounty for others. Our appetite for adventure and connection with nature can never be slaked by the city. But up to that point, I never imagined I was a man cut from such a hearty swath. Maseriah's return changed that view forever."
"How did you know without doubt?" Steffor inquired, exposing his skepticism. "The prairie bough is full of dangers challenging the strongest Guardian. You or mother could have been killed a thousand different ways!" The thought of losing either of them, regardless of the fact they had completed the legendary trek over a century ago, stirred emotions he had made a practice of burying deep.
"Indeed, the journey calling us was perilous. I had little idea of what to expect. There were many times, both during the journey and in the early seasons of settling the village, that I questioned my decision. Almost every day, I fought the impulse to run back to the perceived safety of the city."
His father affirming his fears added to Steffor’s confusion.
"One hundred and fifty two set out to retrace Maseriah's path and establish a new settlement. Outside of Somaht and Maseriah, the rest of us were young Shifters all drawn by the same, undeniable force to make the trek. It would be several seasons before a traveling Healer would follow."
With the speed of a summer storm, darkness swept across his father's face. Shadow shrouded the soft frame of his wooly beard and ever-present smile with furtive expression.
"Eighty six rejoined the Provider to start anew before our journey was complete. The giaker claimed many, but it was not the worst beast to stalk us," he recalled, shoulders hunched defensively as he scanned the branch's shadowed wilderness. His father never looked more brave or vulnerable in that moment.
The Deeds recorded the adventures of both Maseriah's discovery of the kuwani and that of the first settlers' ensuing journey. Steffor had accessed Somaht for the images many times over which had strengthened his admiration of his parents, Maseriah, friends and family alike. He still struggled to comprehend why his parents chose to embark on their journey but the concept of a place choosing his parents did not feel so silly anymore.
In classic form, his father was taking the long stem to answer his question. By the time he got there, Steffor had learned something but often forgot the original question that got them on the path in the first place. He was determined to stay on track this time. Something deep inside told him he was on the cusp of enlightenment.
"Our eight day descent down the Trunk transpired without incident. Conditions intensified once we reached the base of Constunkeen. For over ten miles, the limb elevated from the Trunk at a steep angle before leveling off into flat prairie. A thick ivy jungle covered the mountainous region, making the climb more treacherous, reducing our progress to less than a half a mile a day. It took thirty-three days to scale the mountain. In that time, we learned how legend, and the rare images recorded by the Deeds, gave little justice to vicious six legged giaker."
"Masters of stealth, equal parts mammal and reptile, the giaker can lay hidden for days without moving a hair. Every bend in our trail, every grove of innocent appearing bushes, inviting moss patch or tangled vine tunnel was a threat for a giaker attack. Maseriah ferreted out most, charging into any telltale sign of their wicked traps. He had become proficient in identifying their lairs. Dispatching of the creature with powerful punches of the Source, he would stun the beast and launch them far away in the same motion."
"But the prehistoric giaker had survived for a reason. For the dozens of attacks Maseriah thwarted, twenty-seven managed to slip his detection. Twenty-seven died by the giaker's viper fast strike, razor sharp teeth and hooked claws. Too many had to witness a friend or loved one vanish in a blink. The splatter of blood on the surrounding foliage and frantic sounds of struggle as the beast dragged their victims through the underbrush the last to see or hear of them."
"We were a tight knit group by the time we cleared the oppressive jungle, committed to a common cause and determined to go forward. Our spirits rose once we gazed upon the vast prairie. We had faced our fears and survived. Soon we would be feasting on kuwani and building our new home. Or so we thought. Maseriah was quick to temper our optimisms, reminding us we had yet to face the prairie bough's most feared denizen, the zapture."
"Traveling alone the first time, well camouflaged by his Guardian garments, armed with powers of both speed and defense, Maseriah managed to avoid the creature with relative ease. Reminded of our limited skills when it came to both, the open prairie for as far as the eye could see in every direction sobered our excitement."
In recent months, Steffor mustered the courage to access images of the zapture. Since, the creature plagued his dreams. With no natural predators, the zapture thrived on the prairie bough. Adult treledant, staple prey of the zapture, were known to kill hatchings when stumbling onto a nest or trample adults caught in a stampede. However, the giant omnivore killed out of self-preservation, not for food. The bulk of information about the nocturnal zapture stored in the Mysticnet archives came from ultraviolet images recorded by Guardians. These typical and sanitized, but nonetheless gruesome, images depicted a pride of the bipedal, winged beasts. The creatures ripped apart and fought over the mangled body of a treledant or giant sloth.
Steffor tensed up thinking about the zapture. He fought the impulse to ask his father to stop his recital. Instead, spellbound by the moment, having gone too far to turn back now, he grabbed his father's hand and braced for the worst yet to come.
"We traveled by day and hid as best we could by night. Twenty-two days passed without incident. Our trek was almost halfway complete. Despite our vigilant paranoia, we had started to become enchanted by the prairie's open sky, lush moss land and diverse animal life."
"Many times we passed within shifting distance of the enormous treledant herds. By nights end, every camp was infested with fury little kosts. We soon lost track of all the rare birds we saw, heard of but rarely seen in the city. But not once had we spotted the zapture. We had all heard their blood curdling, high-pitched squawk late in the evening off in the distance. Several times we discovered the remnants of their latest kill. Still, the bough was so massive, teeming with abundant, natural prey. We started to believe, thinking to ourselves or whispering to those closest, 'maybe we can make it without ever seeing one'."
"None of us though, had considered how difficult or dangerous it was to hunt and slay an adult treledant, even for a large pride of zapture. We learned this lesson the day we got our first up close look at zapture. Actually, it was three. The smell of their rotting flesh hit us a half a mile before we saw them. They corpses lay in the middle of our trail created by one of the many treledant herds. Covered with thick scales, the bodies remained, for the most part, intact. But flesh and organs were mashed so violently that portions of their bones penetrated the bough's smooth bark."
"Upright, squat legs fitted with oversized talons looked more suited for grabbing and tearing prey than for walking. Three arms projected from the creature's muscular torso. The two double-jointed appendages protruding from the sides were long, double-edged claws ending with a sharp point. The third, growing from its chest, appeared to be a shorter but more maneuve
rable version of its legs. Leathery wings, spanning over thirty feet, sprouted from taut and sinew backside."
"Incongruent with the rest of the body, the zapture's head was most disturbing aspect of the creature. Long neck supported a massive, cone-shaped skull capped by a pointed crest of bone. A maw large enough to swallow a man whole, housed row after row of fist size teeth. On each side of the broad mouth set black, beady eyes. Upon closer inspection, the lightweight of the oversized skull startled us. We would soon experience firsthand its lethal legerity."
"After that, it was not difficult for any of us to imagine how man, while not a staple part their diet, would be a welcome abatement for the zapture. Once again, remaining undetected became our primary objective. Another five days would pass without incident. Up to that point, Maseriah managed to scout out ideal campsites to conceal our presence: a stand of tall ferns, a grove of lichens or berry bushes sufficed. But on the sixth day after our discovery, our luck ran dry."
"As the sun began to set, we stood surrounded by fields of knee high moss as far as the eye could see in every direction. Maseriah had gone off ahead in one last, desperate attempt to find shelter. As dusk arrived, the zapture's squawk haunted the air. When all felt lost, our Guardian materialized as if from thin air, breathing hard from the sprint he maintained for the last hour. He ordered us to follow.”
"Exhausted, famished and scared, we finally reached our campsite for the night: the east side of an elevated knot pond. The plentiful knot ponds and lakes of the prairie typically have a rounded edge, no higher than a few feet. The one we chose for our camp was a good seven feet high with a tapered rim that protruded three to four feet. Not ideal shelter but at least it provided some type of defense from aerial attack."
Steffor, struck by the sudden need of the Guardian's presence, searched for Maseriah's comforting figure. Survey of the canopy above and below and the trail in every direction, all came up empty. It was then that he remembered their Guardian had left earlier to assist Teilken back to the village after he sustained a head injury from a high fall.
His fear abated some as the canopy above cleared and they reached the stairway leading home. Shifted into the branch’s steep ascent, the wide stairway led to the outskirts of Maseriah settlement. Created by his father and several other original settlers over a century ago, the stairway was a living testament to the hardships the people of Maseriah overcame.
Steffor stepped onto the first step and, as he always did, read the passage from the Deeds etched on every step. ‘The Citizen, who wakes before the sun and labors after it sleeps, truly knows the heart of the Provider’. The verse epitomized the life of a harvest Shifter.
Pursued by its shadow as it moved over the steps, the freight car trudged ahead of them on haulage vines running parallel to the stairway. Steffor looked above, following the length of Constunkeen's colossal underside toward the west. Undetectable to the naked eye, he knew the bough eventually grew into the Trunk. Though, at that time, he had never traveled the prairie bough to see the Trunk firsthand, he had no problem in believing in its existence. For countless images from the Mysticnet confirmed it so.
Conversely, as his eyes traveled along the prairie bough's endless stretch of underbelly, its girth obscuring a third of the night sky, his young mind refused to believe the zapture existed, lurking this night in search of prey. He understood all the Provider's creatures served a purpose but the zapture's role remained a mystery to his young mind.
A few steps into the ascent, comforting lights emanating from the village shined over the staircase horizon to break the darkness above. Close to the top, Maseriah's chiseled form, seen and welcomed by all, descended toward them, the shepherd on his way to see his flock safely home. Soothed by the sight of his hero, Steffor found the courage to listen to the final moments of his father's tale.
"The narrow confines under the lip forced us to spread out and circle halfway around the pond, seeing a dozen neighbors to the left or right. Your mother and I, having recently done our tour of duty at the front and rear, positioned toward the middle. I watched Maseriah take his post within a perimeter of sela gourds moments before conceding to exhaustion and succumbing to a restless sleep."
"Your mother's scream ripped me from my slumber. Still by my side, I was aghast to see blood splattered across her face and torso. She looked over my shoulder, the terror in her eyes freezing her in place. A warm liquid sprayed the back of my tunic followed by the repulsive crunch of bone and flesh. Compelled by something beyond mind and body, I turned around in time to witness the legs of Guinther disappear down a gaping orifice. The zapture stood erect and turned its head to the heavens as intermittent spasms convulsed down the long neck."
"The engorged body of our companion stretched the neck skin into a thin membrane as it forced the meal down deformed throat. Instincts screamed to run while we had the chance but I could not move, hypnotized by the waking nightmare. Then, a sudden jerk of Guinther's arm in a futile attempt to survive stretched the pliable neck. The details of his braided birth bracelet sealed within thin membrane broke the spell and allowed my mind to tell the body to flee."
"I fought the urge to evacuate bowels and vomit at the same time, and managed to stand up. As I pulled your mother along with me, we began to stumble away from the pond's edge toward the surrounding open fields. We had not moved much past the lip when the screams of others began to fill the night. Screams of terror, screams for Maseriah, screams of disbelief, the unfolding scene was beyond our imaginations."
"A dense cloud cover had moved in while we slept and if not for the sela gourds, the grisly scene would have remained hidden to the night. Adjusting to minimal light, my head swiveled in all directions in search of our Guardian. I could not find him among the dozens of dark zapture figures surrounding our pathetic camp. Panic rose as we stood surrounded by a hideous forest of freakish necks bulging with the struggling outline of our friends and loved ones."
"The din of agonizing shrieks and tableau of erect beasts striking ghastly poses of ingestion was overpowered by a lurid sound. None who survived that dreadful night will ever forget that sound. The sensation was akin to, but far from accurate depiction of, standing at or near the point of impact of two hardwood branches crashing at supersonic velocity. As I turned in search of the source, my eyes fell back upon the zapture we had just fled."
"The creature remained erect facing the sky. Guinther's body had moved farther down the beast's neck to lodge at the base. At first, I found a strange consolation in the sight, believing for a fleeting moment that the zapture was choking, having literally bitten off more that it could swallow. My theory appeared validated as I watched its already gaping maw stretch wider. I stood mesmerized, cringing at the thought of seeing Guinther's regurgitated remains splayed before me. Fear mounted as the creature applied more force toward disfiguring its own head."
"I thought the jaw certain to snap off its skull. Instead, the jaws extended farther, reaching all the way back to the pointed crest, effectively turning its head inside out. Without warning and at blurring speed, the jaws snapped shut."
"The intensity of the clap knocked your mother on her back, myself onto knees. The concussion thwarted all efforts to not vomit. Bones, muscle and organs went limp as I kneeled and cupped hands over bleeding ears. It took all I had to remain conscious. When I looked back, the creature still held its gruesome pose but the bulge in its neck had diminished. A new wave of revulsion hit me as I discovered the primary purpose behind the powerful concussion. Altered by the vibrations produced by the ferocious clap of jaws, the once solid outline of Guinther had transformed into a gooey ball of slurry. With a spastic gulp, the bulging neck deflated as the liquid remains disappeared down to its gullet."
"Having devoured its first victim, its appetite far from slaked, the zapture resumed the minatory posture of a lethal hunter. Its wings, previously tucked tight to the body in a protective shell, now spread wide and low, beating the air in short, compact burst
s. Stout legs recoiled and prepared to pounce as its talons tapped the ground, craving fresh meat in which to tear. The sword like arms flared out in anticipation prepared to gouge any moving target, while the dexterous middle one darted from side to side. Long neck cocked over its back, poised to strike with lightning speed. An acrid jet of steam, shot from pin hole nostrils and plastered my face. The creature's gaze fell upon your mother and me."
"Dazed as I was, I summoned the strength to stand. Your mother lay motionless, but I thought I detected a slight rise in her chest. In the aftermath, none of the survivors was shocked to learn most of our casualties were the result of the concussive sound waves. I stared at my adversary and relived the choices I made leading up to that moment.”
His father stopped climbing steps at that point, letting Steffor travel a few more before tuning his son to face him eye to eye. Steffor had never doubted his father, trusting all he told him. But it was not until that moment, the dark memories of that fateful night mirrored in father's depthless eyes, he truly believed him.
"The muffled moans of others penetrated my deaf ears and broke my brief embrace with nirvana. Memories of Guinther's gruesome end came rushing back, and I became a frightened soul living a human experience once again. Determined to face my end with courage, I decided to charge. My legs buckled, forcing me to stop my fall with outstretched arms. With what strength remained, I pushed myself back up when a sudden pulse of energy from behind shoved me back down."
"To my shameful joy, a new sound of agony and terror filled the night. I looked up in time to witness the zapture slam into the pond's edge, trailed by a black figure flying over me. Bones snapped as its left wing bent back and crumpled to its side from the impact. Maseriah was a black blur as his assiduous assault on the creature came from every angle. I was forced to duck as one of the creatures bladed appendages flew past, spewing a path of blood behind it for another twenty yards before sticking into bark with a hallow plunk."
"He dodged frantic darts of the lethal middle talon toward his head and body. The Guardian then snatched the wrist with his right hand and drove the palm of his left into what passed for an elbow, rending the forearm completely off. It choked down a screech as the neck shot back a blurring counterstrike. The strike hit bark as the Guardian sidestepped, burying head deep into moss. Before it could recoil, Maseriah slammed his boot into the grotesque head. He then pivoted and drove both fists into the exposed torso in one fluid motion. As he stepped away, violet liquid gushed from the mortal punctures. Crammed against the pond edge, legs splayed in unnatural positions, the body twitched a few last times before slumping over in final defeat."
"Confident the beast was dead, heaving from his recent exertion, Maseriah surveyed the battlefield. Never had I revered or feared a soul more at that moment, nor since. The verse from the Deeds, 'Respect and honor the soul chosen to harness the power of a Guardian', held a new and literal meaning."
"Maseriah pulsed with the Source, setting the camp ablaze in an eerie blue light. Conformed like a thick, pliable second skin, his seamless garments covered his entire body in burnished armor. Rounded helm, narrow slits revealing blazing eyes, melded into a gorget form fitted around his neck and face. Smooth pauldrons conformed to massive shoulders and amplified his already prodigious width. Gauntlets and vambraces, the most intimidating feature, protected both arms and hands, tripling the size of his fists, each knuckle custom fit with gnarled spikes. A tight brigandine encapsulated torso and molded cuisses and greaves shielded the lower body while also providing two more blunt weapons to his arsenal."
"Relief washed over me as I followed his gaze around the camp. Slaughtered zapture bodies, and respective body parts, mingled about the camp along with our own dead and wounded. Faced against a foreign foe, equipped with no known defense, the remaining zapture had fled. Maseriah, concluding the same, fell to his knees and wept. Gone was the warrior with deep-seated hate and anger flashing in his eyes, replaced by the sanguine man we all chose to follow. He then stood and bellowed the Guardians' creed for all to hear: 'Thank you Father! I love you! Please forgive me!'"
Both had been watching Maseriah descend the staircase as his father retold the Guardian's heroic deeds in those final moments. Undetectable even by his heightened hearing, Maseriah explained later how a silent aerial attack caught him off guard. Nose-diving from a mile above, three zapture pulled up from the pond's west side and skimmed over its glassy surface at top speed. They flew over our protective lip without the slightest whisper and slammed into Maseriah's backside. Coordinated shrieks in the distance had distracted his attention. Maseriah had slain thirteen and wounded a dozen. Forty-six Citizens perished that night, another thirteen of the wounded the following day.
His father turned Steffor around, his face warm and loving. "Only those willing to risk going too far can discover how far they will go."
Steffor gave his father a solemn nod of understanding and continued to contemplate his words as he went up the staircase. He heard or recited that passage almost daily but only now seemed to recognize it as the answer to the question his mind could not put to words.
Steffor did not fear the zapture. No, the fear that would cause him to bite his lip for endless hours or tie his stomach in knots, was the thought of not being able to protect those he loved in their time of greatest need. Fear of having the soul of a Guardian trapped in the body of harvest Shifter. A wave of gratitude washed over him as he stopped wrestling with his mind's greatest fear and chose to view life in a new light. Unabated, glorious tears began to flow down his face.
A loud snap rippled through the serene night with an explosive intensity. Heads jerked up in unison toward the foreign noise to witness the night sky disappear, replaced by the freight car barreling directly toward them. Stunned outcries filled the night as the giant cylinder crashed nose first into the stairway ahead of them. Steffor felt the Provider moan as the branch bowed from the impact and send people flying backwards in a tangled mass.
He watched the approaching avalanche of people and reacted with newly bestowed instincts. In one casual movement, he turned to his left and leaped over the rail. He then twisted his body to grab the rounded edge with both hands, and used his momentum to swing back over to land on the spot he started. With a quick survey over his shoulder, he knew with a sense beyond his own that, outside of few minor injuries, all were safe, including his father.
With a howling screech of wood grinding on wood, the car, its width just wider than the rail, settled into the groove, picked up speed and raced toward them. His vision locked on Maseriah in the distance, flying toward them at supersonic speed. Steffor knew in that instant the Teuton would be too late. To his horror, he was all that stood between the ones he cared most for in life and certain obliteration.
The residue of gratitude, showered upon him only moments before, was the catalyst that turned horror into an excited anticipation. The Source moved through him like never before as he raised his arms high and wide. The Provider's energy pulsed in his palms, building in mass and power as it stretched his arms farther behind his neck.
Fearful he would lose control, Steffor made a weak attempt to throw his arms forward. His panic rose as his arms continued to stretch backwards as if pulled by invisible cables shifted by the strongest vine Shifters. The car was but yards away from where he stood and yet the summoned energy continued to grow.
"Use the power of your mind Steffor!" His father shouted from behind. Like a mighty hammer blow, the assured voice dissolved the clutter of frantic thoughts. In doing so, it forever removed the veil that once obscured the Guardian hidden deep within.
Body diverged from mind and hands sliced down with alarming force, clapping a blue ball of Source formed before his chest. Channeled into a tight beam, the Source shot from the pulsating ball and slammed into the rushing car. A deep pitched, explosive wave ricocheted off cylinder and launched it in the opposite direction. The projectile blurred past Ginllats, remnants of the Source trai
ling behind like burnt fuel.
The car pierced the bough's thick bark and buried deep into sapwood. The rounded end the only visible trace where it remains exposed to this day for all who travel the hallowed stairs to see. A monument to the Provider's most heralded Guardian, commemorating the first of many heroic deeds yet to pass.
Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy: Volume I) Page 22
