The damp air of the real forest rushed into Arian's lungs, sharp and cold after the heavy stillness of the trial. He staggered to his feet, pressing a hand to the stone wall for balance. Every sound felt sharper, every scent stronger — the musk of wet soil, the faint tang of metal, and… smoke.
His eyes narrowed. Smoke meant fire.Fire meant people.And in the deep jungle, people usually meant trouble.
He pushed aside the curtain of vines at the entrance of the chamber. The forest beyond was darker than it should have been; thick clouds had smothered the moonlight. But in the distance, through the lattice of trees, Arian saw it — the dull orange glow of torches.
Then he heard the voices. Harsh, clipped commands in a language he recognized but didn't speak fluently. The hunters.
Arian's heart pounded. They had found the temple.
Instinct urged him to melt into the shadows and wait, but something in his chest — the beast — growled in warning. He could hear their footsteps, the rustle of weapons, even the metallic click of crossbows being loaded.
A sudden burst of flame lit the undergrowth, and Arian caught sight of one of them: a tall man in a black raincoat, silver charms hanging from his belt. His face was hidden behind a mask carved in the shape of a snarling feline.
"Spread out," the masked leader barked. "The Blood of the Tiger is close."
Arian's pulse quickened. They're hunting me… and they know what I am.
The golden hum in his veins flared, the beast whispering:"Strike first."
Arian slipped back into the shadows, his body moving with a speed and silence he didn't recognize as entirely his own. The beast's presence inside him was like a second heartbeat, steady and sure, guiding his steps.
Through the dense tangle of roots and vines, he watched the hunters spread out in a slow, deliberate arc. They moved with precision — these were not ordinary poachers. Every man carried charms of bone and silver, every step calculated to avoid snapping a twig or rustling a leaf.
One hunter passed so close that Arian could see the rainwater dripping from his crossbow onto the forest floor. The metallic scent of the weapon mixed with the man's sweat.The beast stirred."Now," it urged.
Arian's fingers curled, and for a moment, his nails lengthened, the tips catching what little moonlight broke through the clouds. He could leap, tear the man's throat open before the others knew —
No.He forced himself to stillness.
The masked leader halted, lifting a hand. The hunters froze. He tilted his head as though listening to something only he could hear. Slowly, he turned his mask toward the temple's entrance.
"You can't hide forever, boy," he called into the darkness. "The jungle told us you were here."
Arian's breath caught. The jungle told them? That meant these men weren't just hunters — they were pawang, spirit-binders who could bend the forest to their will.
The beast in his chest growled low, ready to fight. But Arian knew if he made one wrong move now, he'd be surrounded before he could reach the tree line.
From somewhere to the left, a twig snapped. Too loud.The leader's head turned sharply toward the sound — and Arian realized with a jolt… it hadn't been him.
Someone else was out there.