Enna is a Land God: 1

The world was a hazy blur of hospital white, the rhythmic beep of machines my constant companion for ten long years. My body, a prisoner of illness, felt like a distant, irrelevant thing. Then, confusion. Not the sterile chill of a hospital, but the gentle warmth of sunlight dappling through leaves. A soft moss cradled my back, and the scent of damp earth filled my nostrils. I opened my eyes to a canopy of vibrant green, a symphony of rustling branches and chirping birds overhead.

My mind struggled to reconcile this sensory overload with the stark reality of my confinement. Had I finally succumbed to the medications? Was this a vivid, drug-induced dream? My thoughts were interrupted by a rustle. I turned my head, and there, kneeling in the moss, was a creature that defied every logical explanation: a small, three-foot-tall boy, covered in orange fur, with a bushy tail and the face of a fox.

He was praying to a small stone statue, seemingly oblivious to my presence. My heart hammered, but a strange, unused instinct surged through me. I lifted my arm, testing a limb that had been unresponsive for a decade. It moved. Smoothly. Effortlessly. A wave of disbelief, then exhilaration, washed over me. Tears stung my eyes as I slowly, gingerly, pushed myself to a seated position. The miracle of movement was overwhelming, eclipsing the absurdity of the fox-boy.

But the fox-boy, sensing my movement, gasped. His muzzle dropped open in shock, revealing wide, blue-green eyes. "A- a human?" he stammered, making me blink in surprise. He spoke English. Of course he did. Nothing about this could be odder, so why not?