Caldera

The Alien Newcomer

 The Ochre Forest hosted sprites, rock beasts, and the occasional phoenix, though never had Caldera seen a poor soul encased within one of the white oak trunks. It was an accursed sight, one that caught her attention only after the morning and the eastern suns' lights had reflected off of those glossy, still eyes that were embedded in the tree. She held her breath and set her hand over her gold dagger. When the eyes didn't blink or move, she moved closer to investigate. The person's face and body were barely visible, blending into the cracked and peeling bark. They were a prisoner and Caldera hesitated whether or not to release them.

There were many spells outside the sphere of her knowledge. Who knew what would come of unraveling this one. Her black-furred rabbit, Bia, popped out of her shoulder bag and squeaked for a good while.

"Hush," Caldera told the small beast. "You know nothing of this." She glanced back toward the city, considering seeking counsel. "No, you can do this," she told herself, "They will only discourage you and take credit for themselves." And with that, she began the deconstruction enchantment. She held her hands flat against the tree bark and worked the invisible strings that bound this stranger. She gritted her teeth as the knots tangled rather than freed, and her fingers sunk deep into the squishy tree flesh.

Bia squeaked and squealed in panic and jumped from the bag. "Coward," Caldera muttered, saving most of her concentration for the task at hand. This trouble was a far cry from the trials at Nox; she had survived lava diving and the saber dance on her wits and mystical arts.

She cried out as the hot strings bit back, stinging her skin and leaving dark red marks that crept up her arms. She wasn't about to use her last talisman unless her life was at stake. This was aggravating—nothing more. She set one foot against the trunk for leverage. The tree whimpered, and all at once the strings disintegrated and the soft bark fell away and crumbled into ash. Her balance thrown, she stumbled back.

Liberated from the rotting tree flesh, the person fell forward onto their knees and blinked rapidly. They held their hands out as if they were blind. They were covered in the chalky ash from head to toe, in every crease of skin and every fold of cloth. Caldera gained her footing and ignored her throbbing hands. She had concern strictly for what kind of monster she had unleashed.

"Identify yourself," she said in a loud and commanding voice.

The stranger coughed and a cloud of dust escaped their mouth. They wiped their eyes and stared long and hard at her.

"Tell me who you are or I will lock you into that same prison until this planet's final sleep," she said.

"That wasn't a prison. That was my haven," the stranger replied in a rough, deep voice.

"You were there of your free will?" she said, baffled.

"Why have you exposed me? What do you know of Trinity? Who do you hunt for?"

"What are you saying?" She frowned deeply.

He stood and walked to a spot between the oaks where he could bathe in the suns' lights. The dust faded, flaking off of his skin and revealing a shocking sight underneath: a tall man who had long, coarse hair tied into small triangular plates. The triangles twirled as he shifted his head to and fro in the light. He had a wide forehead and a narrow nose, eyes that shifted color, and a triangle tattoo on his chin where there should have been facial hair. He wore clothing most closely resembling that of Shamans: loose pants bound tight at the calves and embossed green fabric wound around his chest and arms, clasped together with more triangles.

"You are not of our world," Caldera said and, once again, she reached for her dagger. "Are you here to claim territory?" she asked him.

"I am not here for territory," he said with humor in his tone. "And you are not a hunter," he said in realization. "We are nothing more than disparate souls crossing coincidental paths."