And then it came: the hiss that had called him forward.
It was louder now, sharper, filled with an intent that made the air tremble. It hissed not once but continuously, the sound coiling around him like a living thing. His instincts whispered again: Run.
And yet, he did not move backward. Instead, he leaned slightly forward, his empty vessel drawn by something he could not name, a pull in the void that felt… familiar. The forest seemed to shrink around him as he advanced, mist wrapping his legs, shadows stretching to meet him, the very air alive with anticipation.
Then, through the swirling fog, he saw it.
A massive shape stirred among the trees, dark as the void between stars. The soil groaned beneath it, roots snapping, stones cracking, as the body of the creature began to rise. Scales glimmered faintly, black as obsidian, stretching along a body vast enough to coil around the largest of trees and still disappear into the mist. Its sheer enormity pressed against the landscape, bending the mist, crushing the silence, claiming the clearing as its own.
And then, slowly, the heads appeared.
The first head rose, lifting high into the night. Its fangs dripped venom that hissed as it struck the earth, burning small scorch marks into the soil. Green eyes glimmered with hunger, tracking the boy's every motion, glinting like sharp blades in the darkness.
The second head lifted beside it, horns spiraling backward, jagged and cruel. Its mouth hung open, teeth stretching deep into the maw as if it could swallow the world itself. From its throat came a low rumble, shaking the trees, reverberating through the mist, resonating with something ancient inside the boy.
The third head rose last. Its eyes were hollow, empty voids, reflecting nothing, yet heavier than the night itself. Its gaze fixed upon the boy, not with malice, but with recognition. Time seemed to pause. The very air thickened, pressing against the vessel in quiet reverence and fear.
The colossal serpent swayed as one, the three heads moving in eerie synchrony. Its body coiled across the earth, mist weaving between the loops like smoke rising from unseen fires. Scales scraped against the soil and stone, a sound that seemed endless, that resonated through the boy's chest like a muted drumbeat of history itself.
He did not flinch.
The pull, the hiss, the call that had brought him here pressed against him again. It mingled with the whisper of grief, the void inside him twisting with something unnamed: a yearning, a hunger, an instinct older than memory. He did not know what it meant. He only knew he had to continue moving, to advance into the coil of this darkness.
The serpent lowered its three heads, each coming closer, fangs dripping, venom steaming as it hissed across the ground. Its body curled into a cage of obsidian scales, encircling him in a prison of shadow and mist. Yet still, he did not move backward. He did not flee. He did not scream.
He simply stared.
The world held its breath. Trees bent subtly, roots twitching as if alive. The mist thickened, curling around his legs, rising to hide the serpent's body but revealing its heads, monstrous and immense. The air was hot and heavy, filled with the smell of damp earth, poison, and ancient power.
The boy's small figure, frail as it appeared, was utterly still. Pale hands hung at his sides, black hair sliding across his shoulders. His eyes, wide for the first time, reflected only the void, yet the pull inside him deepened, resonating with something in the hollow-eyed head of the serpent.
They faced one another.
Silence stretched like a taut wire. The hiss continued, soft, deadly, curling around them both. Time itself seemed to tremble.
And in that moment, the forest, the serpent, and the boy waited.