Several days had passed, each one another notch in Kaer'Zhul's dwindling patience. The routine he had imposed on himself in the relative safety of the cave and its immediate surroundings was monotonous but necessary. In the mornings, he forced his reluctant body through strenuous exercises – running through the undergrowth until his lungs burned, lifting heavy stones until his muscles screamed, and practicing clumsy combat moves with a branch he misused as a weapon. Fenrir often watched him from a distance, a silent, watchful shadow among the trees, intervening only when the god threatened to stumble or was in real danger. In the afternoons, when physical exhaustion forced him to pause, he retreated into the cave to meditate. He followed the faint whisper of his essence, trying to nurture the glimmer in his chest, to strengthen the connection. He ate the food brought by Fenrir and prepared over the fire – a necessity he still despised, even though he couldn't deny the strength gained from it.

  His body did indeed grow stronger. The initial weakness slowly gave way to a certain toughness; muscles began to show beneath the thin skin. He moved more confidently, the clumsiness diminishing. But his magic stagnated. He could now reliably light the fire, make a small, controlled flame dance on his palm. But nothing more. Every attempt to achieve more complex effects – levitating a stone, directing the wind, even creating a simple flash of light – failed miserably or completely exhausted him after a few seconds. The whisper of his essence didn't grow louder, the glimmer didn't brighten. It was as if he were hitting an invisible wall erected by Aeliria's curse. Frustration gnawed at him like acid. He, who had once commanded galaxies, was now unable even to move a pebble.

  One cool evening, while staring sullenly into the fire with Fenrir lying calmly beside him, it burst out of him. "Wolf," he said sharply, impatience ringing in his voice. "It's useless. This... meditation, this inner listening... it leads nowhere anymore. I'm stuck." He clenched his fist. "You spoke of mages. Of those who live secluded in towers and study magic. Do you know where such a place is? A place where knowledge about the currents of power is gathered?"

  Fenrir lifted his head, his golden eyes studying Kaer'Zhul thoughtfully. "Towers of mages are usually near the large human cities, Ancient One. Places of organized learning, often connected to the kingdoms. I avoid such places". He paused, seeming to search his memories. "But... there are others. Loners. Masters who seek the solitude of the wilderness". He looked up. "Deep in this forest, many days' march from here, beyond the thundering waterfalls, lives such a master. An old man, the forest spirits say, who lives alone in a hut at the foot of a mountain. He knows the old ways of magic, it is said. Over the years, young people have come to him, hoping to become his students". Fenrir's voice grew softer. "Most turned back after one winter, broken by the forest or the master's trials. Only a few remained".

  Kaer'Zhul snorted contemptuously. "An old man in a hut? That's supposed to be a master?" "His power is said to be considerable, Ancient One," Fenrir replied calmly. "Different from that of the mages in the towers. Wilder. More primal. Perhaps..." The wolf hesitated. "Perhaps he could teach you. You could become his apprentice".

  "Apprentice?" Kaer'Zhul's voice was sharp with indignation. He laughed harshly. "Me? Kaer'Zhul, an apprentice to a mortal hermit? Absurd! If anything, he could become my apprentice!" Fenrir did not flinch from the angry gaze. "Forgive me, Ancient One, but you speak of what you were. Look at what you are now". His voice was gentle but unyielding. "You are trapped in this body. Your own power is sealed. This master, however insignificant he may seem to you, perhaps understands the magic of this world, the laws that now bind your essence. He might have a key that you do not possess".

  Kaer'Zhul wanted to retort angrily, but Fenrir's words hit a sore spot. The wolf was right. As humiliating as it was. In his current state, he was powerless, his progress stalled. Meditation alone was not enough. He needed knowledge, guidance – even if it came from a lowly mortal. Aeliria's punishment forced him to his knees, forced him to seek help from those he despised. He stared into the fire, his jaw grinding. Pride battled against bitter reality. Finally, he let out a long, hissing breath. "Fine," he forced out, each word a concession to his weakness. "This body needs guidance if it is ever to channel true power again. I will seek out this... master". He turned to Fenrir. "Take me to him".

  An expression of quiet agreement appeared in Fenrir's eyes. "The journey is long, Ancient One. On foot, it would surely take a full day, through difficult terrain". He stood up, his large form almost filling the cave. "But there is a faster way. Though it may not seem worthy of you..." He lowered his massive body slightly. "My back is strong. I can carry you. We could be there in a few hours, before the sun sets".

  With a final surge of pride, Kaer'Zhul nodded curtly. "So be it. Let us hurry". Swinging himself onto the giant wolf's back was another exercise in humiliation and clumsiness. His legs felt too short, his balance precarious. He awkwardly clawed his fingers into the dense, silver-gray fur, which was surprisingly soft but also revealed the underlying power of steely muscles. It was an intimate proximity to an animal that deeply repulsed him.

  Fenrir didn't wait a second. As soon as he felt Kaer'Zhul was reasonably secure, he launched himself off the ground with explosive force. The cave disappeared behind them, and they shot into the forest. The ride was nothing short of breathtaking – and terrifying. Fenrir moved with a speed and grace that Kaer'Zhul, in this mortal body, would never have thought possible. He was no longer a wolf running, but a living arrow shooting through the undergrowth. Trees, ferns, and rocks blurred into green and brown streaks at the edges of his vision. The wind whipped his face, tore at his simple clothes, and forced him to narrow his eyes to slits. He had to hold on with all his strength to avoid being thrown off, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs – partly from fear, partly from a reluctant admiration for the raw, natural power of the creature beneath him.

  As the forest rushed past, Kaer'Zhul's mind worked feverishly. Fenrir was taking him to this supposed master, this hermit. He couldn't just show up and announce: "I am Kaer'Zhul, God of Dragons, betrayed and banished, teach me to use my power in this pathetic shell!" That would be madness. Humans were weak, but not stupid. Such a statement would, at best, lead to disbelieving laughter, at worst, to fear, mistrust, and perhaps even an attack. No, he needed a story. A lie.

  What could he say? He had to appear human, vulnerable, but with potential. Someone a master might take under his wing. I come from far away, he thought, bracing himself against a particularly violent jolt as Fenrir effortlessly leaped over a fallen tree. From a village in the east. Yes, that sounds vague enough. I seek a teacher of magic, his inner monologue continued. I have felt a... gift, an inner fire, but no one in my homeland could or would help me understand or control it. That sounded plausible, hinting at his actual situation without revealing the truth. So I set out alone, searching for knowledge. I came to this forest to train in solitude, to find my limits. He clung tighter to Fenrir's fur as the wolf slid down a steep slope. Here I met this... unusual wolf. He glanced briefly at Fenrir's pointed ears ahead of him. He sensed my search, my desperation, and offered to lead me to a master said to live deep in the forest. Yes, that sounded believable. It explained his presence, his quest, even his accompaniment by Fenrir. It was still a lie, a pathetic necessity that ate at his pride like acid, but it was better than the truth. The thought of presenting himself as a supplicant, as a potential student of a mortal, was bile to his soul. But Fenrir had been right: in this state, he had no other choice. He had to bow down to one day rule again.

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  Just as he had mentally crafted his story, Fenrir pricked up his ears and slowed his pace slightly. Through the rush of the wind, another sound reached Kaer'Zhul's ear – a deep, constant thundering. The waterfalls the wolf had mentioned. They must be close. The thundering grew louder, turning into a mighty roar as Fenrir pushed through a dense curtain of ivy. A small clearing opened up before them. Here, a wide waterfall cascaded over moss-covered cliffs into a clear pool, its spray filling the air and creating small rainbows in the light of the late afternoon sun. And there, at the edge of the clearing, at the foot of a gently rising mountain, stood not an imposing mage fortress, not a tower of stone and arcane, but a simple, crudely built wooden hut. Smoke curled from a stone chimney. In front of it, on a massive log, stood an old man splitting wood.

  Fenrir slowed his run to a quiet trot and approached the hut. The old man seemed not to notice their arrival or deliberately ignored them. He wore simple, worn clothes, his gray hair tied back in a thin braid, and his face was lined with deep wrinkles like the bark of an old oak. With rhythmic, powerful blows, he swung his axe, splitting log after log without looking up. Fenrir stopped a few meters from the man. His huge body cast a long shadow that almost completely enveloped the wood-chopping old man in darkness, yet he showed no reaction. The wolf crouched slightly to make it easier for Kaer'Zhul to dismount. "We are here, Ancient One," Fenrir murmured softly, his voice barely more than a low rumble beneath the roar of the waterfall. "The man there... that is the master the spirits speak of." He looked intently at Kaer'Zhul. "I will withdraw now, but I will stay nearby. If danger threatens or if I sense that your true nature is recognized, I will intervene or warn you".

  Kaer'Zhul nodded silently and slid awkwardly off Fenrir's back. His legs were stiff from the long ride. He patted the wolf briefly, almost imperceptibly, on the flank – a gesture foreign even to himself. Fenrir returned it with a deep look from his golden eyes, then turned and disappeared back into the dense green of the forest with a few silent bounds, as if he had never been there. Now Kaer'Zhul stood alone in the clearing, before the hut, before the old man who was still stoically chopping wood as if he were alone in the world. The axe rose and fell with hypnotic regularity. Kaer'Zhul took a deep breath, pushed his pride and true identity as deep inside himself as possible, and forced himself to play the role he had concocted. He stepped closer to the log but remained at a respectful distance.

  "Human, I greet you," Kaer'Zhul said, his voice still sounding strange in his ears, but he strove for a humble, searching tone. "The wolf... Fenrir... told me that you might be able to help me in my situation. He brought me to you". The old man paused. The rhythmic sound of wood splitting stopped abruptly. Slowly, without haste, he lowered the axe and leaned on it like a walking stick. Then he turned around. His face was weather-beaten and covered in a network of fine and deep wrinkles, but his eyes were surprisingly clear and piercing, a bright blue like a winter sky. A long, white-gray beard framed his chin. He surveyed Kaer'Zhul from head to toe, his gaze wandering over the simple, stained clothes, the torn trousers, the unfamiliar posture of the young man before him. A faint smile appeared in the corners of the old man's eyes. "Human," he repeated, his voice calm and sounding like the rustling of dry leaves. "No one has said that to me in ages." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Fenrir, then. The old guardian sent you". He paused briefly, his gaze seeming to drift into the distance for a moment, as if sensing the invisible wolf. Then he turned his full attention back to Kaer'Zhul, without further acknowledging the wolf's presence. "Well, boy. Speak. What is your concern? Why does the great wolf believe that I, of all people, can help you?"

  Kaer'Zhul swallowed his pride and began to tell his prepared story. He held the old man's gaze, trying to sound sincere and desperate. "I come from far away, Master. From a small village in the east, whose name you surely do not know". He made a vague gesture. "Even as a child, I sensed that... there is something inside me. A kind of inner fire, a power I don't understand and can't control". He lowered his gaze as if ashamed. "In my homeland, there was no one who could help me. The priests feared it, the elders called it a curse". He raised his head again, trying to put determination into his expression. "So I left. I seek a teacher, a master who can show me the ways of magic, who can help me understand and direct this gift before it consumes me. I have wandered for many moons, knocked on many doors, but found no one willing or able to take me in". He gestured to the forest around them. "I came to this forest a few days ago, exhausted and discouraged. I tried to train here alone, to fathom my power. After a while, Fenrir appeared. He... spoke to me". Kaer'Zhul hesitated, as if unsure whether the old man would believe him. "He asked what I was seeking here. I explained my situation, my search for a master. Then... he brought me to you, human. He said you were a wise man who understands magic". He finished his speech and waited tensely for the old man's reaction, hoping his lie was convincing enough.

  The old man listened attentively, his face remaining inscrutable. Only his bright blue eyes seemed to absorb every nuance in Kaer'Zhul's voice, every flicker of expression on his face. When Kaer'Zhul had finished, there was a long moment of silence, broken only by the roar of the waterfall and the soft crackle of smoke rising from the chimney. Finally, the old man nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. "A long journey, boy. And a heavy burden you carry". He surveyed Kaer'Zhul again, this time his gaze seemed to go deeper, as if observing not just the surface but also the hidden fire beneath. "Fenrir is seldom wrong when it comes to the currents of the forest – or the souls that wander through it". He struck the axe into the log, where it stuck. "Very well." He gestured towards the hut. "The sun is setting, and the night will be cool. Come inside. Tell me more about this... inner fire. And then we shall see". Without waiting for an answer, the old man turned and walked towards the hut with slow but firm steps. For Kaer'Zhul, it was not an invitation, but a test. Another step on the humiliating path he had to tread. With a deep breath, he followed the master into the hut, unsure what awaited him there, but with the cold determination to walk this path – at any cost.