The darkness of the forest wasn't just the absence of light – it was a tangible presence, damp and cold, relentlessly biting through the thin clothes covering this frail body. Kaer'Zhul stood on trembling legs, his hand resting on the rough bark of the tree that gave him support. Each breath felt like a struggle, as if forced to draw air from a faceless, rushing current.

  Suddenly, an unpleasant tug, like a gnawing dragon in the pit of his stomach, overtook him: Hunger. A concept he understood, but had never truly felt. While his dragon children feasted contentedly, he, as a god, had nourished himself on pure energy, on power, and the very order of the cosmos. This physical craving was... degrading. It was a chain binding him to this mortal existence.

  He pushed himself away from the tree, his feet stumbling over a hidden root his unaccustomed eyes hadn't seen in the dark. Every movement felt as heavy as three mountain ranges – the muscles weak, uncoordinated. The god who could once make continents tremble with a single thought now struggled to put one foot in front of the other without completely losing his balance. A low growl, mixed with anger and frustration, escaped his lips. "This fallen... prison," he thought with disgust. "This flesh is an insult."

  He tried to sharpen his senses, as he once had. His divine perception had enabled him to feel the finest energy currents across light-years, read the thoughts of mortals like open books, hear the delicate vibrations of a falling leaf on the other side of the world. Now? He heard the rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant call of an owl, the snap of a twig somewhere nearby. Ordinary sounds, muffled and imprecise. The smell of damp earth and moss rose to his nostrils; the dark outlines of the surroundings seemed almost tangible in the pale light of the alien stars. His senses had been reduced to those of an ordinary animal.

  A wave of despair – another foreign, repulsive feeling – threatened to overwhelm him. With all the strength of his immortal will, he closed his eyes and reached for the slumbering ocean of his power. "Awaken!" he commanded the divine essence within him. "Show yourself!"

  His hand stretched out, fingers trembling – from exertion or cold, he couldn't tell. He tried to ignite the air before him, a simple act he had performed countless times to summon messengers or turn enemies to ash. He focused his will, formed the image of a flame in his mind, and pushed the energy outward. Nothing happened. No spark. No heat. Nothing but the cold night air enveloping his fingers.

  Another attempt: He pushed the energy with such force that his vision momentarily went black, and a stabbing pain shot through his head. A tiny, barely visible spark flickered briefly in front of his palm and immediately died out, like a firefly taking its last breath. A bitter, joyless laugh escaped his throat. A god who could barely create a spark! Aeliria's punishment was more thorough, more cruel than he could have imagined. She hadn't just taken his form, but almost completely denied him access to his own essence. This body wasn't just a prison – it was a damper, an insulator.

  The cold crept deeper, and a shiver wracked his body, involuntary and humiliating. Shelter. Warmth. Things he had never considered before. He had to move, find shelter before this pathetic shell simply gave up.

  He began to walk, carefully, tentatively. He tried to navigate by the stars, but the patterns were foreign to him. Like a desperate seeker, he followed the gentle slope of the terrain, vaguely hoping to find water. Water was often a sign of life, perhaps even settlements of these... humans.

  The forest was dense and old. Huge trees, whose crowns he could only guess at in the darkness, rose like living titans into the sky. The ground was soft with leaves and moss, swallowing his steps. Occasionally, a twig snapped under his feet, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the menacing silence.

  Hours seemed to drag on. The hunger turned into a painful cramp. The cold made his teeth chatter. The unaccustomed exertion of walking drained his strength. He, Kaer'Zhul, was exhausted. It was absurd.

  Just as he was ready to simply curl up under a tree and curse this miserable existence, he heard it. A quiet, steady sound, distinct from the rustling wind. Water. Curiosity and a sense of relief washed over him. He changed direction, following the sound. It grew louder, a gentle splashing and gurgling. Soon after, the forest thinned slightly, and he stood on the bank of a narrow, fast-flowing stream. The water glittered in the starlight, clear and cold.

  He knelt down laboriously – another humiliating movement – and scooped water with his hands. It was ice-cold, making his fingers ache, but quenched the burning thirst in his throat with a single hasty gulp. The sound of his drinking echoed in the silence.

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  As he raised his head, wiping water from his lips, he froze. On the opposite bank, only a few meters away, a figure stood in the shadow of the trees, watching him. It wasn't a human settlement, no warm light – it was a wolf. Large, with thick, silver-grey fur that shone in the shimmering starlight. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural, intelligent intensity, fixing him without fear, without aggression – only with profound curiosity.

  Kaer'Zhul tensed, as much as his weak body allowed. He felt the strange resonance emanating from this animal – the stifled but immeasurable power within it. The wolf tilted its head slightly, as if considering a complex question. Then, to Kaer'Zhul's utter astonishment, it spoke. Its voice was deep and rough, sounding like stones grinding together, but the words were clear and distinct in a language Kaer'Zhul strangely understood.

  "There is a storm within you, stranger," the wolf said, its luminous eyes scanning Kaer'Zhul from head to toe. "A fire trying to break out of a wet cage. Who are you, who carries such an aura, yet seems so fragile?"

  Kaer'Zhul was speechless. A talking wolf that sensed his true nature. This world was definitely different. Before Kaer'Zhul could answer, the wolf did something unexpected. With a fluid movement, it crossed the shallow stream, water splashing softly around its legs. It stepped onto Kaer'Zhul's bank, just a few steps away. The expression in its eyes shifted from intensity to one of deep reverence, almost awe. The wolf lowered its head, then slowly its entire front body, until it knelt before the fallen god, its muzzle almost touching the damp ground.

  "Forgive my question, Ancient One," the wolf spoke now, more quietly, its voice filled with respect. "The aura surrounding you... it is... too much. Blinding. Even in this state. I have never felt anything like it. You are no ordinary spirit, no lost wanderer. You are... more." He briefly raised his gaze. "I am Fenrir, guardian of this forest. My instinct tells me your path is arduous. Allow me to serve you, to guide you through these lands, for as long as your journey lasts."

  Kaer'Zhul stared down at the submissive wolf. Surprise warred with his innate pride. A servant. Here, in this exile. Perhaps Aeliria's punishment wasn't so absolute after all. Perhaps there were ways to assert his power even in this form. A cold, almost cruel smile played on his lips.

  He slowly straightened up, forcing his trembling limbs to stillness, trying to project some of his old, commanding dignity despite his weakness. The exhaustion was still there, hunger gnawed like acid in his stomach, the cold bit mercilessly into his skin. But this unexpected turn, this sign of submission from a creature of this alien world, gave him a spark of bitter satisfaction.

  "Rise, wolf," Kaer'Zhul said, his voice sounding rough and unfamiliar, but the tone of command was unmistakable. Fenrir obeyed instantly, standing up, still looking at him with reverence.

  Kaer'Zhul made a vague gesture with his hand, which should have unleashed a wave of cosmic power, but was now just a weak movement in the cold air. "You sense correctly, beast. I am not from here." He took a shaky breath; the cold air formed a small cloud in front of his mouth. "I come from another world. A world where I... was different." He hesitated; the word 'god' seemed almost ridiculous to him in this state. "There, I was a power that decided the fate of worlds. But I was betrayed. By my own kind." He looked down at the thin clothes, the pale skin. "I was banished into this... body." A flash of untamed fury sparked in his eyes. "Unjustly! As punishment for my strength! Now I must survive as what you call human. A creature of weak flesh and blood." He placed a hand on his growling stomach. "This body is a bad joke. It hungers. It freezes." He looked directly into Fenrir's luminous eyes. "And the power you sense, wolf, the essence of what I am – it is trapped. Sealed. I can feel it, but I cannot use it." He clenched his fist. "Not yet."

  He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, studying the wolf's reaction. "You offer me your service? A being of this world who recognizes the truth behind the facade?" A mocking smile. "Very well. Perhaps you will be useful. I need someone to help me understand this world. And survive."

  Fenrir lowered his head slightly again, his glowing eyes showing understanding – or at least acceptance of the situation. "A god in exile, trapped in a mortal shell. That explains the storm within you." His voice was calm. "The needs of the flesh are relentless, Ancient One. Cold and hunger weaken the strongest spirit when the body yields." Fenrir made an inviting gesture with his head. "This forest is my domain. I know a place, not far from here. A cave, dry and sheltered from the wind. You can rest there." He stepped aside. "Follow me. Your legs are weak, but the way is not long."

  Without waiting for an answer, Fenrir began to move slowly, making sure Kaer'Zhul could keep up. The god hesitated only a moment. Being led by an animal was another humiliation, but the prospect of warmth and shelter was stronger than his pride. Laboriously, he followed the wolf through the undergrowth.

  Fenrir led him to a rock face hidden behind dense bushes. There, a narrow opening revealed a surprisingly spacious cave. The floor was covered with dry leaves, and it smelled of wolf and earth, but it was dry and noticeably warmer than outside. Kaer'Zhul sank down onto the leaves, exhausted; his muscles ached with every movement. Fenrir lay down close beside him, his large, warm body radiating a welcome heat that slowly eased the god's shivering.

  "Rest, Ancient One," the wolf said quietly. "I will provide food. This body needs fuel, even if your spirit resists." With a final, respectful nod, Fenrir rose and silently disappeared back into the darkness of the forest to hunt.

  Kaer'Zhul remained alone in the relative warmth of the cave. He was weak, hungry, and dependent on the help of a wolf. And yet... for the first time since his banishment, he felt a tiny spark... not hope, that would be too much to say. But perhaps the inkling of a possibility. He had found an ally. The first step was taken.