Chapter 1: The Gift Awakens

***ARAN***

The afternoon sun sat low, and the surrounding trees cast long shadows across the dirt road as Aran Sunblade turned the note over to study the map again, knowing it would be the same this time as the hundred times before. He had found the slip of paper lying on his pillow one evening many months ago, when retiring for the night. It bore a simple message: “It is time to come home, Aran.”

On the back was a map, leading to this place, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He had asked his mother, who had suggested it was one of his friends playing a joke, but something about the strange message had told Aran that that was not the case. A few months later, Aran’s curiosity had gotten the better of him – especially after spending those months asking passing travelers about the location marked on the map – to which all replied something similar to: “nothin’ out there but trees, lad.”

Aran never been further than a few miles out of Korrin his entire life, and now, here he was, riding in the back of a cart on a lonely backroad in the middle of the Emerin Forest. He found himself recalling the last conversation he’d had with his mother before he’d left...

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Aran said sincerely, squeezing her in a tight hug. She was a good woman, Mari Sunblade. Aran had never known his father, and Mari had raised him all on her own. “But I need to do this.”

She wiped a tear from her eye, nodding in understanding despite being visibly upset at the thought of her only son leaving home. “It had to happen, eventually, love,” she said with a sad smile. She was a pretty woman, past her middle years but aging gracefully. She had kind, brown eyes and was generous with her smiles. Today, as with most days, her graying hair was tied back with a kerchief. “There’s too much of your father in you for you to stay in Korrin all your life. You look so much like him, you know. Sometimes, from the corner of my eye, I mistake you for him.”

Strange; his mother never talked much about his father. She usually only did so after Aran pestered her about it for long enough to make her relent, and even then, she was sparing with details. The little she did say were always good things, and that Aran got his sandy brown hair and his blue eyes from him, but never had she brought up Aran’s father of her own accord. “What do you mean?” He asked her, trying to read her expression. “Who was he, Mama?”

She shook her head ruefully, as if upset at herself for mentioning it. “I’m certain you will find out, sooner or later, my love. Just promise me you will be careful?”

Aran wanted to press for more, but he answered her request anyway. “I will, Mama, I promise you that.” He touched her face, smiling down at the shorter woman. “And I’ll come home soon. There’s just something about this note that’s pulling at me. I have to know what it means.”

Sniffling, she smiled, touching his face in the same way. “Go, son, and always remember, love before hate, alright?”

Aran grinned. It was a silly sentiment that his mother had always favoured, but he returned it genuinely, as he knew it was important to her. “Love before hate, Mama.”

The horse came to a stop. “This is the place, Aran. Best of luck to ye!” Old Renn Yardley turned from where he was perched up the front of the rickety cart, a smile on his leathery face.

Hopping down, Aran thanked Renn for the ride before grabbing his pack and brushing bits of straw from his simple country clothes. Renn had been kind enough to carry Aran all the way out here – into the middle of nowhere – from Korrin, a small farming village on the outskirts of the Emerin Forest, where Aran had grown up. With a cluck of his tongue and a flick of the reins, Renn set the old cart horse in motion, offering Aran a final wave over his shoulder as the cart rattled off, its wheels squeaking and squealing with every jolt of the uneven road.

Aran studied his surroundings, wondering if he was in the right place. The rough dirt track cut through the dense forest in a straight line as far as he could see in either direction, and Renn’s cart was getting smaller and smaller as it rolled off into the distance. This was a road seldom travelled these days, according to Renn, who was one of the few people willing to risk cutting through the unforgiving wood.

The Emerin was the focus of many local myths and legends, probably passed down through so many generations that the origin of the story was long lost. Growing up in Korrin, Aran had heard tales of everything from men that could turn into animals, to spiders the size of houses, to a local witch that seduced men away from their wives so she could cook and eat them.

The only other visible path began right where Aran was standing, snaking off into the forest, its destination uncertain. Shaking his head, Aran dug the note from his back pocket, the note he had been carrying for close to a year, now. Seeing no other alternative, he shifted his pack and strode down the winding path and into the forest.

Two hours later, twilight was upon the forest, and the calls of nocturnal birds and beasts were heralding the approaching night. In the distance, a wolf howled, it’s somber cry echoing through the trees. Aran stood before an eight-foot high double gate, studying the simple yet sturdy wrought iron fixed between white stone posts. On each gate was a symbol, barely visible in the failing light. The symbol was crafted from the same wrought iron as the gate, formed into a half-circle with sinuous lines radiating from the curved side. With the gates closed, it formed what looked like a sun. Through the bars, he could see a white cobblestone path leading up to the largest building he’d ever seen, made seemingly of the same white stone as the gate posts.

Aran felt no small measure of uncertainty at approaching this strange place at dusk, a place that nobody seemed to know existed. He contemplated turning around and leaving, but as he did, a strange sensation arose inside him, squashing his fear and compelling him to push the gate open and start up the path.

The building looked even bigger up close; three stories of smooth white stone with tall, arched windows lining each level. The similarly-arched double-doors he now stood before were of some dark wood Aran didn’t recognise, the polish shining faintly in the waxing moonlight. A symbol was etched into the heavy-looking doors in the same fashion as the gate, only this time in gold rather than iron.

The door opened as Aran’s hand came up to rap on the wood, light from inside spilling out into the twilight, illuminating the most stunning woman Aran had ever seen. Short, golden hair that hung just past her ears framed a beautiful, smiling face, and her emerald green eyes sparkled at him, lighting up his very soul.

He felt like his eyes could roam that face for eternity, yet eventually they dropped lower, and he realised with shock that she was wearing a robe that was completely transparent! The woman’s lush, generously curved body was entirely visible! He tried to offer some sort of apology for the intrusion – obviously this was not the right place! - but his tongue seemed twisted, unable to utter coherent words. Again, the strange sensation arose, this time flaring up like a fire in his belly, warmth and light racing through his veins. His mind began to grow foggy, his vision darkening. Dimly, he realised he was falling backward, losing consciousness. The last thing he saw before blackness took him was the beautiful woman’s face leaning over him, still smiling.

Aran awoke on a comfortable feather mattress in a simple, yet nicely furnished room, all white stone walls and furniture of dark wood. A modest square rug covered most of the white stone floor, and a large, arched window sat above the bed, illuminating the room with morning sunshine. Sitting up, he could easily see out the window without having to leave the bed. Judging by the distance to the ground, he surmised he was probably on the second floor of -

The memory of the front door opening came rushing back, the beautiful woman with the green eyes - and that scandalous robe! - then the strange light flaring inside him right before he’d collapsed. What in the bloody world was happening? Leaping out of bed, he noticed his clothes in a neat pile next to the door, and only then realised he was stark naked. Who had undressed him? His face reddened as he imagined the woman at the door taking his clothes off. What was more disturbing was the way his body was responding to the thought, his manhood rocketing to attention as the memory of that buxom, curvaceous body danced in his mind.

He fell more than sat down on the bed, his vision beginning to swim again. Confusion reigned supreme as he held his head in his hands, waiting for the blurriness to clear. After long moments, his focus returned, but to his surprise, his erection refused to abate.

At that moment, the door opened, and Aran looked up to see her standing there; the woman he’d seen last night. Still garbed in the same robe, she crossed her arms beneath her impressive breasts and studied him. Aran’s hands shot down from his head to cover his persistent erection, and he thought he caught the ghost of a smile on her full lips.

There was a moment of silence before the mysterious beauty spoke. “It is good to see you awake, Aran. How are you feeling?”

Aran sat awkwardly with his thighs pushed together and his hands covering his lap, though his nudity did not seem to concern the woman. He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he answered her question. “Um, I’m alright, I think. What happened to me earlier? And what is this place? And who are you?”

Those dazzling green eyes remained fixed on him, and Aran felt like he was being weighed and measured by her gaze alone. After a moment, she smiled and moved further into the room, and Aran used all his willpower to keep his eyes on the rug that covered the stone floor. “I will answer your questions as best I can, Aran, though it may take some time.”

Next to the bed was a simple chair made of that strange dark wood that seemed to be everywhere here, and she took it, crossing one smooth, pale leg over the other and folding her hands on her knee. “Firstly, my name is Elaina.”

ONE YEAR LATER

Aran’s eyes opened, a yawn splitting his face as the early morning sun arrived at his window. After stretching, he hopped out of bed and splashed his face at the simple washstand, the cold water perking him up instantly. Peering into the mirror, he noticed his training had really transformed him; he actually had muscles now, as opposed to the skinny boy he’d been when he’d first arrived here. He had been learning the ancient ways of a Paladin of Aros for the past year, and this solitary white stone house in the middle of nowhere, with it’s odd dark wood panelling, had been his home.

His teacher and mentor, Elaina Fairborn, said that this house was one of the last standing Chapels of Aros, a place where centuries ago, Paladins would reside to train, study, and otherwise serve the Order. Much smaller than the grand Temples, which were now all in ruins, the Chapels were for those who preferred a quieter life outside of the cities. This Chapel was occupied only by himself and Elaina, and they managed the upkeep and daily chores between the two of them, as well as Aran’s intense training. There were no other visitors, and they took great care to keep it that way; the Chapel needed to be kept secret.

Elaina had been pushing him hard from day one, and the strength of his Gift had increased steadily. The Order of Aros was made up of those who had been chosen by Aros to bear His power, called the ‘Gift.’ Before the Darkening, the Order of Aros had been grand, spanning the entire world with a Temple in every city and the smaller Chapels occupying many towns and villages. Now, centuries later, the Order was all but forgotten, the Paladins and other Gifted long since destroyed, along with most of their places of worship.

Aran closed his eyes for a moment, bringing his awareness into his body as he had been taught. He could feel sensations in heightened detail, from the feel of his bare feet on the wooden floorboards, to the slightest of breezes coming through the window and shifting the air around him. Elaina had said that this awareness would deepen with practice, and he would one day be able to sense across great distances.

A stray thought of his mentor brought on another feeling; a stirring in his loins. He had a deep respect for Elaina; she was noble, kind and a fierce warrior, and she was also very much a woman, and a beautiful one at that. Tall - nearly as tall as Aran - and fit, yet also buxom and well curved, with short blond hair and clear emerald eyes, Elaina Fairborn was a woman built to draw even a dead man’s gaze.

What made matters even more frustrating than being close to such a woman every day was the traditional garb that Paladins often wore. When not training physically, Elaina wore nothing but a purple robe so sheer it was transparent, her luscious body quite flagrantly on display. To make matters worse, she was completely unconcerned about nudity, often passing through the Chapel wearing not a stitch! The first time it had happened, Aran had nearly died of embarrassment, but now, a year later, he had grown to enjoy her exhibitionism.

As an initiate of the Order, Aran was also required to wear one of the diaphanous purple robes at times, something that had taken him many months to grow accustomed to, especially due to the fact that his body often reacted to Elaina’s all but naked form. With the robes offering nothing in the way of modesty, this meant that when Aran’s cock stood to attention, it was usually in the presence of his mentor. For the first few months, she had just smiled and said nothing, so as not to further his embarrassment, but over time she had begun to grow more forward, frequently finding excuses to further his frustration, like exaggerating the sway of her hips or spectacular breasts as she passed him, or bending over in front of him to pick something up, which would lift the short robe up over her ample bottom and sometimes even show her smooth nether lips!

Aran had been on a strict regime of regular self-pleasure over the last few months in an effort to curb his sexual energy, which seemed to be leaping higher every week, fuelled incessantly by Elaina. In his lessons, she had explained to him that this was normal for a Paladin; as his strength in the Gift developed, so would his energy and vitality. Aran hoped it would not develop too much more; he felt ready to start climbing the walls!

Conversely, there was no teasing or enticing during combat lessons, which, for obvious reasons, were conducted fully clothed, along with padded armour. Elaina was tough, and fought like a dervish, punishing him every time he lost concentration. Aran remembered yesterday’s lesson, when he’d allowed Elaina’s robe-clad body to float into his mind while they were sparring. A split-second later, he was on his back, Elaina’s wooden training club resting against the side of his head.

“Focus, Aran!” She’d barked down at him, her emerald eyes hard. “Were you in the moment, as you should be, or were you thinking about my tits?”

He still had no idea how she’d known, but somehow, she had. Shaking himself from his reverie, he pulled on his robe and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

First thing was first; breakfast. It didn’t take long to fry four eggs, cut a hunk of beef and grab four slices of crusty bread to have on the side. Aran trained hard, and had a big appetite to match. Heaping it all onto a plate, he moved to the adjoining dining room, taking a seat at the long table of the same dark wood as the panelling on the walls. Famished, he set to with a will.

“Quite the appetite you have this morning.” Elaina’s voice came from the doorway, where she was leaning against the frame and watching him eat. Her arms were crossed beneath her more than ample breasts, creating a valley of attractive cleavage visible through the sheer robe.

Aran’s chair scraped the white stone floor as he jumped up to offer a small bow. It was not required, but he saw no harm in being polite. “Forgive me, Master. I did not see you there.” He said, grabbing a napkin and wiped his mouth hastily.

Elaina chuckled, remaining in the doorway. “Relax, Aran. Please, finish your breakfast.” While she was strict and hard as nails on the training ground, she could be quite relaxed and informal otherwise.

“Thank you, Master.” He sat down and resumed his meal. Elaina took the chair opposite, and Aran tried to keep his eyes on his plate. Not easy with a bosom like that right across the table. Her pink nipples dented the fabric of the robe.

“I received a letter this morning from one of the local farms,” Elaina said, reaching across the table to hand him a piece of paper.

Aran took the paper, reading while he chewed his meat. It was a request for aid from a farm not too far east of the Chapel. A local goodwife was having problems with a rogue wolf killing her livestock. Her husband would normally take care of it, but apparently, he was up in Ironshire selling produce.

Once Aran had finished reading, he looked up, meeting Elaina’s clear green eyes. “How did this woman know to ask us for help? I didn’t think anybody knew about this Chapel, let alone what we are.”

Elaina nodded. “Not many people do, but a select few have the privilege. This woman, Jeira, doesn’t know about the Order, but she does know you and I are here, and that we can help.”

Aran felt a touch confused. “Aren’t we supposed to remain reclusive? Isn’t it dangerous for us to risk being discovered?”

“It is dangerous, Aran, you’re right,” she began. “But as Gifted, we are here to serve. Withdrawn from the world as we are, I believe we should still help where we can.”

Aran saw the sense. It was true; Paladins existed to serve. What was the point of possessing the Gift if you couldn’t use it? “Of course. I understand.”

“I thought you might,” Elaina replied, a twinkle in her green eyes. “Your task for today is set, then. Go to Jeira’s farm, and deal with the wolf problem.”

Meal done, Aran stood, inclining his head respectfully. “I will leave at once, Master.” Picking up his plate, he turned for the kitchen. Elaina remained where she sat, turning the letter over in her hands.

“Aran?”

He stopped at the door, looking back. “Yes, Master?”

“Be careful.”

“I will, Master.”

Aran had decided to travel directly to the farm to let the farmer’s wife, Jeira, know that he was there, and that her problem would be taken care of soon. The farm – one of the few that occupied the often inhospitable Emerin Forest – was about half a day’s walk east from the Chapel, and the dirt road had thinned to a narrow cart path some miles back, snaking through the dense trees. He kept his eyes and ears open; he should be approaching the farm soon, and the wolf could be anywhere.

All of a sudden, the forest seemed to just come to a stop, opening up into a massive, clear expanse containing fields of corn and pumpkins. A quaint cottage sat in the centre of the area, surrounded by the crops. Stout wooden fences lined the fields – probably to keep out the boars and wolves, and scarecrows stood tall among the ears of corn that swayed in the gentle breeze. Aran scanned the area, looking for Jeira.

A scream pierced the air, and his sharp eyes quickly found the source; over to his left, on the border of a pumpkin patch, a woman was scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, trying to escape the biggest wolf Aran had ever seen. The black-furred beast had to be standing as high as Aran’s shoulders, and easily three hundred pounds!

In a heartbeat, Aran judged the distance between himself and the woman to be about fifty yards; he could get there in time. Taking off at a dead sprint, he unlimbered his mace and buckler on the run. The woman was still on the ground, and the snarling wolf was lowering itself, preparing to pounce.

Running flat out, Aran lowered his upper body, putting all his weight behind his buckler. With a wordless shout, he launched himself at the wolf’s side, shocked at just how big the animal was up close. The beast turned at the last second, snapping at him with deadly fangs that clattered on Aran’s wooden buckler as he slammed into its side, sending them both rolling across the ground.

Rising to his feet smoothly, he set himself, only to see the huge wolf already in mid-leap, jaws aimed for his jugular. Without thought, Aran dropped, the wolf colliding with him as he did, sending his mace flying. Before he could roll away, the beast was on him again, once more lunging for his throat. Somehow, by pure luck, he had gotten his forearm wedged into the wolf’s neck, just barely keeping the snapping jaws at bay. The huge creature snarled menacingly as it strained against his arm, it’s red eyes glowing in the afternoon light.

Wait. Red eyes? What wolf has red eyes?

The beast was insanely strong; Aran could not keep this up for long - it was amazing he could hold it back at all. Frantically, he scrabbled around with his other hand, hoping his mace had landed nearby. His hand closed on something short and wooden stuck into the soil - a stake! With a heave, he pulled it loose and jammed it into the wolf’s neck, the beast yelping in pain, trying to escape now rather than press forward. Aran gripped it’s fur tightly as he pulled the stake free and shoved it home again, and again, the wolf dragging him along the ground as it tried to run. He rolled free and got to his feet, breathing hard, watching carefully as the beast stumbled a few steps before collapsing.

Aran took a moment to catch his breath. He raised his blood covered hand, which was still clutching the wooden peg that had saved him. What were the chances? Turning, he regarded the woman he had rescued, who was now on her feet, wide-eyed and looking at him with concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked in a shaky voice.

Aran suddenly realised he must look a sight, covered in the beast’s blood. “Yes, I am fine, thank you,” he replied with a smile. “Not my blood.”

The woman nodded with relief. “That wolf. I’ve never seen one like that. The eyes-” she shuddered.

She was right; Aran had never seen or heard of a wolf with red eyes, nor one the sheer size of this particular specimen. There was something ... unnatural about it. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He asked as he stepped closer to get a look at her, noticing she was really quite pretty. Her long black hair was dishevelled, falling around her pale face. She was a little shorter than him, and slender, though her simple farm dress had him guessing about her figure. She looked up into his eyes, her youthful face placing her maybe two or three years older than he.

He smiled at her kindly. “You must be Jeira.” She nodded. “My name is Aran. I am from the Chapel. We received your letter this morning.” He offered a small bow, extending his hand in formal greeting. She took his hand, and he felt his Gift surge deep inside him. This time, though, he felt it course down his arm, out of his hand and into hers.

Jeira gasped as Aran’s Gift flooded her body, suffusing her entire being. Aran had no clue as to what was happening; whatever this was, it was new to him. Her hand gripped his tightly until the torrent ebbed.

They stared into each other’s eyes for long moments; hers were a deep, melting brown that a man could gaze into for hours. He could feel her every sensation, every emotion, as if it were his own. The Gift had somehow deeply connected them both, in body, mind and soul. He felt like he had known her his whole life, and he could see that same recognition in her face.

“What is this?” She asked quietly, never taking her eyes from his.

“I don’t know,” Aran replied truthfully; Elaina had never taught him of this. “But I think I like it, Jeira.”

She smiled, then, a ravishing beam that would do justice to any princess, and she touched his cheek. “Thank you for saving my life, Aran.” Her voice was like an intimate caress as she moved in and put her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his as if they had been lovers for years, not caring about the drying blood on his face.

Aran responded by wrapping his arms around her slim waist and pulling her in tight, deepening the kiss. Through this new connection he could feel the heat building in her, and knew what she needed, what they both needed. He had never been intimate with a woman before, but he knew what to do.

Jeira pulled her mouth free and whispered into his ear. “Come with me.” She led him out of the field and into the forest a short way, to a secluded place where a natural spring bubbled merrily into a clear pool, just big enough for the two of them. Aran watched hungrily as she began to disrobe, her slim fingers deftly undoing the buttons of her simple linen dress. Hurriedly, he attacked the buckles of his leather armour whilst never taking his eyes off Jeira.

She was naked first, and he drank in the sight of her. Slender and palely beautiful, standing there in the dappled afternoon sunlight, with her black hair falling down over her shoulders and down to firm, modest breasts capped by hard pink nipples. His eyes travelled down over her flat belly, to the neatly trimmed patch of hair above her sex, then down over her slender legs. He could still feel her as if they were one, and he could sense her need. He could, to his own surprise, even feel her wetness.

Lust and instinct drove him. Shucking the last of his clothing, he scooped Jeira up in his arms and walked into the pool. The warm summer afternoon had the water at the perfect temperature, and before he knew what was happening, Jeira had her legs wrapped around him and was grasping his cock, guiding it inside her.

They moaned as one as they joined, their lips mashing together, their tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. Her velvet pussy felt amazing, and he wanted more. He held her tightly in his arms and began to thrust his hips, her breasts bouncing against his chest. She groaned in his ear, gripping handfuls of his hair in both hands. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Aran did as she asked. His hands were on her waist, pulling her onto him as he met her hips with his own, driving as deeply as possible into her depths while she whimpered into his neck. He continued like this for some time, revelling in the feeling of not only his own pleasure, but feeling hers in every detail. Without thinking, he focused on the hot ball of light that was centred in her lower body, radiating further outwards as her pleasure increased. Aran wondered what would happen if he just gave that ball a little push...

Jeira’s soft cries became wails of ecstasy as she clutched him hard, fingernails raking his back, throwing her head back as her pussy squeezed him with wonderful pressure while she climaxed, her body shuddering against him in the warm water.

Still embedded in her, Aran stepped up out of the pool and lay her down on the soft grass, where he began to fuck her properly, thrusting as hard as he could. Jeira’s soft moans became loud cries once again, and Aran felt that heat begin to rise in them both even further. His balls began to churn with the urge to come. He growled in her ear, “I’m going to come inside you.”

Jeira responded by grabbing his hips and trying to pull him even deeper inside her. “Come inside me, Aran! I want it all!”

Aran needed no more encouragement. With a few more thrusts he was there, groaning with pleasure as he emptied himself into her hot channel. Jeira, too, came hard with a scream, her pussy clamping down on him, milking from him everything he had to give.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing hard. After a moment, Jeira giggled, and Aran looked down at her. “What’s funny?”

“I need to get attacked by wolves more often.”

Aran laughed. “I would save you any day.” He gave her a long, tender kiss. Suddenly an awful thought came to him. “Jeira, what have we done? You’re married!”

She looked back up at him seriously, reaching up to touch his face. “Yes, I am. But not happily.”

“What do you mean? Does he mistreat you?”

Jeira shook her head. “No, nothing like that. He ... forgets me. Sometimes it’s like I’m not even there. And then he goes off to the capital for weeks at a time and I have no idea what he’s doing. It gets very lonely out here.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Aran said sadly. “He obviously does not know what he’s missing out on. You are an amazing woman, and you deserve a good man.” He gave her another long kiss. “Why don’t you move on? Get away from this farm and do something you love?”

Jeira gave him a lovely smile. “You know, that is not such a bad idea. I think you have inspired me!” They rolled over so she was on top, and she sat up, looking down at him.

Aran ran his hands up over her slim waist and squeezed her breasts gently, eliciting a soft moan from his lover. It wasn’t until she began to gyrate her hips that he realised he had never gone soft, and had never pulled out of her.

The two new lovers spent the remainder of the warm afternoon making love, the strange connection allowing them to explore each other at a depth two ordinary lovers could never experience.