The life of a Primal would always be dismal. At best, a slave. At worst, a tool meant to be broken. They were used by humans. A Primal’s use behind their existence had always been clear. The reasons behind it all were lost within the fog of a past no one would speak of.
Used to keep fallen Primals within their cages, Nevetes moved through each repetitive day. Even the smallest changes were felt within the mountain. So, when an Elemental was suddenly among the fallen, it was a change felt by all. The moment he saw her crawl from the pits of her cell, he felt that change touch him. The path forward from here would be a forest of werewolves!
A perfect day in a picturesque meadow was the memory Zene would always take with her. It was one of the few things these people couldn’t take from her.
Her sister had always been the light to draw her home. The kindness that would continue to be her guide. But it had been the meadow which had always been her friend, teaching her things about this power she didn’t know was hers. Never being told otherwise, she hadn’t known any better. Never being told that she couldn’t seemed to be enough to give her the licence to try.
Despite all that she’d learned, Zene was clueless to the world she was forced into. Helpless as a seed carried upon the wind. But not powerless.