A Fallen Star: The Punch Of A Woman

29. Underground

Ozias groaned as he slowly regained consciousness, the dull ache in his head a reminder of his fall. He opened his eyes to find himself in an underground cave, the walls illuminated by faintly glowing fungi and bioluminescent plants. The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of soil and minerals. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, and took in his surroundings.

"Where am I?" he muttered to himself, standing up and brushing off the dirt from his clothes. He began to walk, hoping to find an exit or at least some clue as to where he had landed. The cave was a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers, each more intricate than the last. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like ancient teeth, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the cavern.

After what felt like hours of wandering, Ozias stumbled upon a large, open chamber. In the center stood a woman, her face obscured by an elaborate mask. She was slender and graceful, dressed in robes that seemed to shimmer with every movement. In her hands, she held a long, ornate staff.

The woman noticed Ozias immediately, her body tensing as she prepared for an attack. With a swift motion, she pointed her staff at him, and a surge of energy crackled around its tip.

Ozias raised his hands defensively, calling upon his powers to summon a barrier of plants that erupted from the ground, shielding him from the impending strike. The woman's staff connected with the barrier, but she quickly freed herself, slicing through the vines with ease.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Ozias demanded, lowering his hands but keeping his guard up.

The woman studied him for a moment before lowering her staff slightly. "I am Rira, a follower of the art," she replied, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Ozias raised an eyebrow. "A follower of the art? What does that mean?"

Rira hesitated, her grip on the staff tightening. "It means that my powers come from the wisdom bestowed upon me by Lyra, the god of art. I follow the rules and teachings of Lyra to harness my abilities."

Ozias nodded slowly, intrigued. "I see. My name is Ozias. I ended up here by accident, and I'm just trying to find my way out."

Rira relaxed her stance further, sensing no immediate threat from him. "Very well, Ozias. Follow me. I will guide you to a safer part of the cave."

As they walked through the winding tunnels, Rira explained more about her role as a follower of the art. "A follower of something is someone whose powers come from a specific type of wisdom granted by the god they follow. In my case, I have studied Lyra, the god of art, and I do everything possible to embody the principles of art."

Ozias listened intently, his mind racing with possibilities. "What would happen if I were to gain such wisdom and combine it with my own powers?" he wondered aloud.

Rira glanced at him but said nothing, leading him deeper into the cave until they reached her quarters. The space was surprisingly comfortable, with glowing plants providing a soft, ambient light. Paintings covered the walls, each depicting scenes of beauty and mystery. There were also large sheets of paper with intricate symbols and letters that Ozias couldn't decipher.

Rira gestured for him to sit, and he did, taking in the serene atmosphere. "This is where I live and practice my art," she said, indicating the various paintings and scrolls. "A god can have multiple roots of wisdom. Lyra granted me the wisdom of painting, but there are many forms of art, each with its own wisdom."

Ozias nodded, impressed. "Your aura feels very powerful," he observed.

Rira smiled behind her mask. "That is because these wisdoms are not given to just anyone. The followers of the gods are powerful, having dedicated themselves entirely to their chosen path."

She picked up a brush and a blank canvas, beginning to paint with swift, sure strokes. Ozias watched in fascination as a likeness of himself emerged on the canvas, rendered in a unique and captivating style.

"Do you know what the Supremes are?" Ozias asked after a moment.

Rira paused, considering her words. "The Supremes possess power that is one or two or even three levels beyond mine. They have worked tirelessly to achieve their strength, but for some reason, they haven't ascended to the realm of the gods. Take Celine, for example. She was incredibly powerful but also very ill. It's quite strange."

Ozias thought about this, his mind racing with questions. "Why haven't they ascended?" he wondered. But before he could voice his thoughts, Rira handed him several lists filled with information about Lyra.

"You could become a follower of the music of Lyra," she suggested, her eyes gleaming behind her mask. "It would take a lot of time and dedication, but I sense you are not afraid of hard work."

Ozias accepted the lists, feeling a surge of determination. "I'm willing to try," he said firmly.

As Rira placed her staff back in its holder, Ozias's curiosity got the better of him. He used a plant to try and remove her mask, but Rira noticed immediately, cutting the plant with a swift motion.

"Curiosity can be dangerous, Ozias," she warned, her tone serious.

He nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry. I was just curious."

Rira turned back to her painting, her focus intense. "Focus on the lists. There is much to learn."

Ozias sat down with the lists and began to read, his mind absorbing the intricate details of Lyra's teachings. The texts were filled with wisdom about the various forms of art and how they could be harnessed for power. Hours passed as he immersed himself in the knowledge, feeling a strange sense of peace and purpose.

As the hours turned into days, Ozias continued his studies under Rira's guidance. She taught him about the different aspects of art and how to channel his energy into creating something beautiful and powerful. They practiced together, Rira painting while Ozias used his powers to cultivate vibrant, living sculptures from the plants around them.

One evening, as they sat in the soft glow of the cave, Ozias felt a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you, Rira," he said quietly. "For everything."

Rira looked at him, her eyes softening. "You have a long journey ahead of you, Ozias. But I believe you are on the right path."

He smiled, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "I will do my best to honor the wisdom of Lyra and find my own way."

As the days turned into weeks, Ozias's skills grew. He learned to blend his powers with the artistic teachings of Lyra, creating stunning works that were both beautiful and powerful. And through it all, Rira was there, guiding him and helping him unlock his potential.

One day, as they were working together, Rira looked at Ozias with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You have grown much, Ozias. But there is still so much for you to learn."

Ozias nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "I know. But I will continue to learn and grow. Thank you for showing me the way."

Rira smiled behind her mask. "The journey of a follower is never truly complete. There is always more to discover, more to create. Keep striving, and you will find your way."

With those words in his heart, Ozias felt a deep sense of resolve. He knew that his journey was far from over, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. With the wisdom of Lyra and the support of his new friend, he felt stronger and more determined than ever.

And so, in the quiet of the cave, under the guidance of Rira, Ozias continued his journey, each step bringing him closer to his ultimate goal.