The Progeny of Gaea

Gaelin Alon bit down on the inside of his lip, tasting copper. The pain helped him focus. It helped clear his mind while he struggled to maintain the enclosure of roots he held his opponent in.

The trapped man pulled at the enclosure, the biceps of his massive arms tensing as several thick veins popped up under his skin.

"You can't hold me forever you freak," the man growled in a low voice.

"If you'd chill the hell out and let me explain, you'd see we're on the same side," Gaelin said. His legs shook and he prayed the signs of exhaustion weren't visible to the man.

The man relaxed his grip on the root cage and peered towards Gaelin's trembling legs.

Shit, Gaelin thought.

Grinning, the man looked up at him.

"Don't feel bad boy. I smell your exhaustion," he said, tapping the side of his nose with a forefinger. "Hope you have more in the tank."

The man stepped back. He bent his neck from side to side, eliciting a series of loud pops.

"Here I come," he said.

The man took a cursory glance around before altering his stance. He spread his feet and bent forward, pulling his arms to his sides.

Thick brown hair sprouted along the length of his beefy arms, which themselves grew in thickness to three times what they were.

He howled with pain as dangerous claws split the flesh of his fingertips and his hands shifted into large paws.

His face elongated at the mouth and nose to resemble a muzzle, and a pair of lengthened canines poked through the man's disturbing grimace.

Gaelin felt a feral power emanating from the man. The power felt familiar to him and he realized what the man was.

He is a shift, Gaelin thought with surprise.

Given the man's size, Gaelin estimated that he was a shift of considerable strength. His wide shoulders and stout frame indicated that he tapped bulky, powerful targets.

"And you call me a freak?" Gaelin admonished.

He needed power to hold the man's next attack but he was running on fumes.

It wasn't that he didn't have the power. An ocean of power roiled just beneath the surface of his subconscious. There was power enough to shape the land; to part oceans and raise mountains.

But he couldn't reach it. A barrier existed within him, restricting him from using his true power unless faced with certain death.

It doesn't keep me from trying.

A wry smile tugged up the corners of his mouth at the thought.

Gaelin tried for his true power now.

His subconscious reached out, diving down towards that vast well of power. His mind unfurled, extending, stretching like a yawning man after a long slumber. Reaching. Reaching.

His mind stopped cold.

Gaelin's mind clawed at the barrier, pleaded with it. Nothing. He gave one desperate effort and was met with reciprocated force.

Searing pain tore through his head and Gaelin saw stars wink into existence as he collapsed to the ground.

So bright, he thought, looking up from the dirt. He raised a hand to diminish the intense sunlight. More copper on the tip of his tongue, more blood.