Chapter 4: The Butcher's Due
The jungle had a memory for blood.
Kael felt it in the way the vines recoiled from his footsteps, their leaves curling like the fingers of a burned hand. The air was thick with the stench of the Rift Hound's melted corpse, the acidic tang of its dissolved flesh still clinging to his shadow. He flexed his fingers, watching as the last remnants of the dead Ringbearer's shattered Ring crumbled from his palm like black sand. The jungle had watched him try to take it. The jungle had seen it reject him.
*"Pathetic,"* the voice in his blood murmured. *"You reach for scraps when a feast awaits."*
Kael ignored it. His ribs ached where the Warmaster's blade had bitten deep, but the skin was already stitching itself back together—too fast, the flesh knitting with threads of darkness that pulsed like living things. He pressed a hand to the wound and felt the unnatural heat of it, the way his blood seemed to squirm under his touch.
Something moved in the trees ahead.
Kael froze. His nostrils flared. The scent hit him like a fist—wet earth and rotting fruit, the musk of something far larger than a Rift Hound. The undergrowth trembled, then parted as a **Jungle Titan** shouldered its way into the clearing.
The beast stood twice the height of a man, its bark-like hide studded with the broken shafts of old spears. In one massive claw, it clutched the carcass of a deer, its fur matted with blood. The Titan's emerald eyes locked onto Kael, and for a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then the beast dropped the deer.
The carcass hit the mud with a wet thud, its glassy eyes staring up at the canopy. The Titan's lips peeled back, revealing jagged tusks the color of old bone. It wasn't a snarl. It was an invitation.
*"It wants you to fight,"* the voice whispered. *"It knows what you are."*
Kael's shadow stretched long behind him, its edges fraying like smoke. He could feel its hunger, its impatience. It remembered the taste of the Rift Hound's melted flesh. It wanted more.
The Titan charged.
Kael met it halfway.
His fist connected with the beast's knee, and the bone shattered like dry kindling. The Titan roared, its clawed hand swiping out in a blow that would have taken Kael's head off if he hadn't already ducked, rolling beneath its arm. His shadow lashed out, tendrils of darkness spearing into the open wound he'd made. The Titan staggered, its bellow turning into a wet gurgle as the corruption spread.
Kael didn't give it time to recover. He leapt, driving his elbow into the beast's throat. Cartilage crunched under the impact, hot sap-like blood gushing over his arms. It burned where it touched, searing his skin like acid, but Kael barely felt it. The Titan collapsed, its massive body shaking the ground as it fell.
For a moment, there was only the sound of Kael's ragged breathing and the slow, wet drip of the Titan's blood into the mud.
Then the arrow came.
Kael twisted, but not fast enough. The projectile grazed his cheek, opening a thin line of fire across his skin. He turned, his shadow coiling like a serpent at his feet, just as a second arrow buried itself in the tree behind where his head had been.
A woman stepped from the undergrowth, her ivory bow already drawn. Three Rings gleamed on her left wrist, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the dim light.
"You're slower than the stories claimed," she said, her voice cool.
Kael wiped the blood from his cheek. His fingers came away black.
The woman's gaze flickered to the dead Titan, then back to him. Her expression didn't change, but the bowstring tightened.
*"Run,"* the voice in his blood urged.
Kael bared his teeth.
The hunt wasn't over.