Sure, here's the paraphrased version of the paragraph.
Somewhere deep down beneath the northern chirped ridges, far below the earth, in the forgotten belly of the forest, something ancient awoke.
Far from the freezing touch of frost, far from the howling of wind, in the darkness of a buried wilderness, a heartbeat pulsed. Slow. Steady. Patient. The creature had not moved in years—decades even. It had no need.
But tonight, the forest itself had called upon it.
It first felt the tremor, subtle as a heartbeat inside rock. The ripple of unstable mana, violent and undone and spilling into the earth's surface like ink into fabric. It had felt many battles in its lengthy existence, long before humans had ever learned to recuperate let's define down mana. But this! This felt... something different.
Its gargantuan nostrils flared, tasting the essence left in death's explosion—burnt soil, splattered blood, exploded life-force. Before it could escape death in every form of it—fire, death, blood, and it alone. There was power in death, and power in pain. But there was something else as well.
A human soul.
Small. Flickering. Insignificant.
The creature was rumbling softly in the dark. It had encountered many humans in its lifetime—warriors, kings, mages, hunters. They made the land bleed out. They felled trees and built stone keeps. They hunted creatures like itself out of fear or sport.
But this soul was different.
Not strong enough to fear. Not pure enough to hate.
Interesting.
And it wasn't alone.
The creature felt another flicker. Not in the crater, but a distant flicker. Two more souls. Smaller, faint with fear and tiredness. Younger. Children. Running deeper into its territory.
Its breath shifted into a low growl that reverberated through the cavern like thunder.
How interesting.
Finally, for the first time in many decades, the beast rolled its shoulders. Muscles groaned. Stone cracked beneath its hulking form as it shifted. Claws, dull from centuries of sleep, scrapped at the cavern floor as it moved to the surface.
It did not care about the dead. But the living... they would be worth watching.
With a shake that dislodged dust and bone from its thick fur, the beast slipped into the winding tunnels leading toward the light.
___
They hurried on the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots. Luenor, Hera, and their only remaining bodyguard Arwin pushed onward into the dark, their breaths already quickening. Behind them, they could still hear the echo of the mana blast, echoing just behind the momentary dull roar. The sound had panicked every bird from their nests, and they fled shrieking into the night sky.
They had all heard it; the blast where Richard and everyone else met death.
Arwin walked with his sword drawn, head low, but continuing to say a prayer for the fallen. Luenor could hardly hear him speak over the wind, but he caught the final words.
"May your spirits find refuge in the Path of Fire."
Luenor swallowed hard. Hera said nothing. She simply tightened her grip on his arm and buried her face deeper into his shoulder. He could feel her trembling, and it wasn't from the cold. It was from the weight of it all. The silence around them was heavier than the snow.
Luenor wished he had something to say, but his throat felt squished. Words only felt meaningless now. Getting away on foot and onward with haste was all that mattered.
But the forest had changed.
All around them, distant howls and screeches pierced the night—wolves, birds, even smaller creatures stirring in panic. The shock of the explosion had set the entire woodland on edge. Branches cracked. Snow fell from the trees in thick clumps. Somewhere far to their right, something massive crashed through the underbrush.
Arwin cursed under his breath. "The beasts are riled."
"What do we do?" Luenor whispered.
"Stay quiet. Keep moving. If we stop now, we'll never make it to the Fort."
But the forest didn't care for their plans.
Without warning, a boar the size of a small horse barreled through the treeline ahead of them, its tusks caked in frost, its eyes wild with panic. It skidded in the snow, snorting aggressively as it spotted the trio. Steam poured from its nostrils as it stomped the ground.
Arwin immediately pushed the siblings behind him, lowering his stance. His blade shimmered faintly as he channeled mana into its edge.
"Get behind that tree," he ordered quietly. "Don't move."
Luenor pulled Hera back, both of them pressing their backs against the thick trunk of a pine. He could feel Hera shaking again, clutching his coat like a lifeline.
Arwin took a step forward, boots crunching in the snow.
The boar bellowed, lowering its head.
Luenor's heart pounded in his chest.
He knew what came next.