Chapter 2
The two left the village, stepping out of the trees' embrace, their serene grace cloaking the ashed wasteland cradled within. Tengune breathed in the air of freedom, though his steps wavered, the scent of smoke still clawing at his senses. A clinging compunction. Omaar slapped his shoulder, urging him along, and they moved eastward down the path. To their right, a river scurried alongside a lush grassy field, its pearl fish dancing as if to the tune of their footsteps. Beyond it, another forest loomed. To their left, the forest that housed Wyrmwood stood like a sturdy, unyielding wall. Tengune strayed from it, its presence a suffocating reminder of flames and ruin. The voices of his dormant heads stirred faintly, a low rasp in his skull—"Ash coats your tongue, beast"—but he shook them off, clutching his tome tighter, forcing his gaze to the horizon.
Their travels were mostly silent, the wind's caress and the river's soft pitter-patter filling the void. Night fell, and the boys veered off the path into the fields to set up camp, starting a fire. Tengune sat, staring longingly into the flames, their flicker pulling him back to Wyrmwood's inferno—Remina's face, fleeting, swallowed by smoke. His claws twitched, He flinched, fur bristling, and Omaar, watching, pulled out a pouch of psyche.
"So, you sold the lionel for 300," Omaar said, his greed-laced smirk glinting in the firelight.
"Yes," Tengune replied, voice barely a whisper. "Wait, how did you know that?"
"Make it 200," Omaar said, tossing him his coin purse with a smug flourish. "Consider it my cut for dragging that beast."
Tengune sighed, tucking the purse into his pouch, too drained to argue, his eyes drifting back to the fire. Omaar picked up a rock and lobbed it, striking Tengune's head.
"What's your problem?" Tengune barked, rubbing his fur.
"Are you going to keep sulking like a loser, or are we planning our next move?" Omaar scolded.
A moment's calm. Tengune sighed, reaching into his bag to pull out a map, laying it on the grass. The firelight danced across its worn edges as they studied it. "We're here," Tengune said, pointing to the southwestern corner of the central continent, shaped like a reverse C, surrounded by four other continents. "Guild licenses let us work legally. They're the world's peacekeepers—hire adventurers for anything from slaying beasts to hauling cargo."
Omaar raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a lot of bureaucracy for swinging a sword."
"It keeps order," Tengune said. "Without them, you'd have rogue mages burning cities or nations at war over petty slights. The guild's based on that island." He pointed to a small archipelago nestled in the sea.
"So, we cut through the Malevian Empire," Omaar said, tracing the map. "There's a port there, right?"
"Not quite," Tengune corrected. "Malevia bans adventuring and isn't allied with the guild. You're mothers stories about them, how true are they?"
"She said they flay nonbelievers, string them up as warnings." Omaar states "Silver hair, blue eyes, and a prayer book won't help us there."
"she also talks to mushrooms" Tengune smirked
Omaar snorted. "Tsk, I'm not that deluded. Dodging their zealots sounds like a headache. So, we go north?"
"Through the mountains," Tengune said. "Aetherion territory, they are also not allied with the guild, so we'll need to steer clear of their patrols."
"Easy enough," Omaar said. "First stop's Wellinggrid village, just outside this forest. Father used to fleece their simpletons with fake charms. After some easy business we hit Raava town."
"A rat's always a rat," Tengune muttered. "Why Raava?"
"Father said it's a hiveborn trade city—bustling, full of gear and opportunities. Hiveborn are friendly enough if your coin's good."
"Do you ever not think of money?" Tengune snapped.
"Nope," Omaar smirked.
"Whatever," Tengune sighed, rolling up the map. "Just stay away from the holy capital."
"With the war raging everywhere, we'd get caught in the crossfire," Omaar said, kicking out the fire to snap Tengune's gaze away. "And now orcs are on the continent, making it worse."
"From the books I've read, their capital moves on the back of a giant sand whale," Tengune said, lying back to stare at the night sky, heart heavy. "That's how those nomads travel."
"Savages," Omaar muttered. "Best we avoid them."
"I'm more worried about the wilds. That lionel was a mountain species—nowhere near this forest." Tengune cautioned
"Tomorrow's problem," Omaar said, as he sat on the soft grass readying himself for bed. "Just… don't fist fight ghosts tonight. I need sleep."
"Whatever," Tengune snorted, voices with a meak softness as he let the weight of his eyes pull him. The grass swayed under lantern flies' glow, and the pair found stillness in slumber, if only for a time.
Dawn broke, the sun climbing the horizon. Another day. They packed and moved along the rocky path under a warm morning sky, giant dusk owls retreating into the forest after their hunt. Omaar munched on a liger meat stick, a village delicacy.
"It'll take three days to reach Wellinggrid," he grumbled.
"Quiet," Tengune said. "The sooner we walk, the better."
"We could always swipe a merchant caravan," Omaar laughed.
"I'm not indulging your criminal fantasies," Tengune barked.
"Oh, now you've got a conscience," Omaar smirked. "Don't worry, it gets easier each time."
Tengune shot him a glare, teeth bared, but Omaar stayed aloof. Tengune sighed, then frowned. "It's strange, though. No travelers, no merchants. We're in the middle of nowhere, but this emptiness feels… wrong."
Omaar pointed ahead. "There's your reason."
They reached a large bridge, broken in twain, the river rushing below. Two iron crabs mated beneath, their claws clacking. Claw marks scarred the stone, deep and jagged, and a faint glitter caught Tengune's eye—tiny gem fragments, like those from a sandstone basilisk's spine, scattered in the dust. A fresh streak ran along the flooring, smeared with dried blood.
"It's fresh," Tengune said, kneeling to touch the mark. "Something fought here—something big."
"None of our business," Omaar said. "The river's shallow in the forest. We cross there."
"Are you mad? The forest is wild territory," Tengune argued. "If a lionel was here, who knows what else migrated?"
"Then we move fast," Omaar said, grinning. "Unless you see another way."
"Fine, but we stay cautious," Tengune said. "Who knows what's in those bushes?"
"Don't be a coward," Omaar laughed, striding into the forest. "I'm losing my mind watching crabs mate."
"As always, headfirst into danger," Tengune muttered, following.
As they crept through the forest, footsteps, light and senses on high alert, rays of light rained down from gaps in the treetop leaves, illuminating the lush forest floor. Vine fruit, a green spiky citrus, hung from the vines of various trees and bushes filled with herbs and blooming flowers. Bushlinen, a large venomous centipede, nestled within, its length unknown, coiled in the undergrowth. An intoxicating beauty. Yet the atmosphere remained tense as chipper birds flew overhead in flocks.
"I've never seen a forest this empty," Tengune shivered, voice low. "Something's definitely off here."
"Not even a river elk," Omaar cautioned. "We need to hurry."
"Go into the forest, he said, it'll be fun, he said," Tengune mocked.
"Are you going to be this much of a coward on all our adventures, furball?" Omaar jabbed.
"Someone has to keep us alive," Tengune said, a faint smile breaking through.
Omaar watched as Tengune cleared through the forest bushes. Finally, a hint of a smile. They found a small clearing filled with jack flowers, jet-black and rare, a ray of sun hanging like a spotlight on a beast sleeping within.
"Get down!" Omaar hissed, pulling Tengune low.
"I've seen this somewhere… it's… oh, damn," Tengune realized, eyes widening as he gazed at a 7-foot rabbit-like monster with soft, sleek white fur and large eyes, sleeping soundly in the jack flower bed. "That's a Rabbiddo—a monster from the eastern steppes. We need to turn back now!"
"How much of a fool are you?" Omaar growled. "The shallow end of the river is right there and you want to turn back now?"
"This monster roams its habitat; it'll move on when it wakes," Tengune argued.
"Aren't Rabbiddo aggressive and territorial?" Omaar asked.
"Um… well, yes," Tengune stuttered, clutching his staff.
"You want to hide and risk the monster finding us first?" Omaar smirked. "Once it's behind us, that's one less worry."
"The beast has sensitive ears. You really intend to sneak past it?" Tengune questioned.
"The river's rush and the flower bed will cover our steps," Omaar answered, starting to move. "The longer we argue, the more time it has to wake." Omaar glided into the clearing, his movements silent, practiced. Tengune followed clumsily, creeping through bushes, both holding their breath as the soft flower bed muffled their steps.
"Almost there," Tengune whispered. "Just watch out for—". The beasts ears twitched and it suddenly jolted up, head snapping back and fourth before its eyes locked to the pair. Omaar stared at him, expression blank and lifeless. Tengune stared back, neither speaking as the Rabbiddo stirred, rising behind them. It sized them up, then let out a deafening screech, forcing them to cover their ears.
They bolted, crossing the shallow river, now sprinting through the forest's edge. Glancing back, Omaar saw nothing—until the Rabbiddo leapt from tree to tree, bouncing between them with blinding speed, then dove toward them like a bullet. Omaar shoved Tengune aside as the beast landed, shattering the ground and sending Tengune sprawling. Omaar hung in the air from the force of the slam, but the Rabbiddo had chosen its prey. With a leap, it closed the distance and kicked Omaar's torso, sending him crashing through several trees.
Tengune, frozen in fear, was too slow to act. The Rabbiddo fixed its gaze on him. He whipped out his staff and tome, runes sparking in the air. Flames engulfed his hand, but could only take its ember light, a bleak mirror into his thought, that pyre much larger there. The flame fizzled, and Tengune stood paralyzed as the Rabbiddo slammed its head into him at full speed, sending him into a bush that cushioned his fall. The beast stretched out its chameleon-like tongue, whipping it at Tengune like a lash. Omaar, back from the crushing blow, darted in, blocking the sharp-tipped tongue with his dagger.
"Another hit'll snap the blade in two," Omaar grunted. "You planning to do something, furball?"
Tengune stumbled to his feet, ribs aching. "We need to run!"
"Outrun it? That worked so well last time," Omaar laughed, engaging the beast. He flipped and dodged its rapid attacks with precision, darting in and out of sight but unable to land a clean strike. The Rabbiddo spewed a veil of thick mist, cloaking the forest. The beast vanished within, its thumps echoing.
"We can't handle something like this!" Tengune cried. "It's not as simple as just striking it down"
"If we can't handle this, we're done for," Omaar barked, his voice sharp with a manic edge, blood streaking his face like a mask as he dodged lunges from every angle. "Always an excuse with you, furball. Scared to move, that's why you'll never be a hero. Just a coward who burns his friends and cries about it!"
The Rabbiddo's tongue slashed Omaar's shoulder, and he crumpled, paralyzed, muttering, "Damn." A kick sent him flying out of the mist, slamming into a tree, motionless. Tengune rushed to him, heart racing, and pressed his ear to Omaar's chest as the Rabbiddo emerged. A pulse—faint, but there. "I made a promise," Tengune whispered, hoisting Omaar onto his shoulders.
The Rabbiddo charged, its tongue whipping relentlessly. Tengune wove through the trees, blocking with his staff, and spotted a cliff ahead, the forest floor dropping away. Near it lay a wrecked cart, splintered and overturned, and the half-eaten corpse of a sandstone basilisk, its gem-studded spine torn open, claw marks raking its flesh. "That's the basilisk from earlier," Tengune panted.
No time to linger, he leapt off the cliff, grabbing a vine, but it snapped under their weight. The Rabbiddo slammed into them mid-air, and they crashed creating a pit so deep its bottom vanished into shadow. Dust and gem-like fragments glittered in the dark, a faint sulfuric scent lingering. The Rabbiddo peered down, then retreated, its screeches fading into the forest. And Tengune and Omaar fell into the Silent abyss with an echoing thud in the dark.
Stillness. Quiet. Drip, drip, water falling like a clock's tears. Tengune's eyes opened, his body pressed against cold, jagged rubble. It felt like home. Above, a crack in the stone ceiling spilled a faint, divine light, too distant to reach, the pit's bottom lost in an abyss of shadow. He stretched toward the glow, thinking of Remina—her vibrant smile, her warmth, her voice. I could've taken your hand, given you a pearl worth the world, kissed you under starlight. Our children, beautiful as art. We'd grow old, die in each other's arms at our last sunrise. But I'm no hero. His chest tightened, guilt clawing at him. I'm sorry, Rem. It's my fault.
Reality crashed in like a rushing caravan. He lay in an ancient crypt, its grey stone walls crumbling, etched with faded runes that pulsed faintly under layers of dust. The air was thick, suffocating, reeking of decay and forgotten time. Tattered tapestries clung to the walls, their ghostly remnants of warriors and beasts fraying into shadow. The floor was littered with shattered bones and rusted relics—swords, helmets, and skulls—scattered as if the tomb had been sealed for centuries. The silence pressed like a weight on his chest, broken only by the drip of water echoing from unseen depths. The divine light from above cast eerie shadows, twisting across the uneven stone like spectres watching his every move.
Omaar slumped nearby, blood dried on a bed of rubble, still breathing. You're alive. How? Tengune tried to rise, then gasped—a jagged piece of rebar pierced his abdomen. Death whispered, but he refused it. With a grunt, he tore free, blood seeping as he stumbled to Omaar. He pulled a potion from his pouch, a red flask with taste he'd grown to loathe, and drank. It burned, sealing the wound enough to move. He fed his second potion to Omaar, forcing it down his throat to stave off death.
He found a heavy stone door, its surface carved with spiraling thorns, and kicked it open, revealing a pitch-black corridor, not a torch in sight. Feels like punishment. I deserve it. With a flick of his wrist, he wove a rune, his finger igniting in flame. He breathed deep, pushing forward, the flame his guide, each step a fight against fear. The claustrophobic walls seemed to close in, their cracked surfaces slipping dust. Tengune shivered as the walls closed in as if even the walls had teeth.
"Has this always been here?" Tengune rasped "or is what I'm seeing a figment of shattered vision."
Movement echoed ahead. He reached a vast chamber, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, lined with rows of stone coffins, their lids etched with skeletal faces frozen in silent screams. A skeletal hand clawed out from a coffin, pulling itself free. Tengune laid Omaar against a wall, whispering, "Our story ends here, old friend." An army of skeletons rose, bones rattling, hollow eyes glinting in the divine light, yet almost a translucent nightmare, closing in to tear him apart. His vision blurred—
A house. My house. Well, their house. I was never really part of them, the family. They adopted me. Apparently, I was sold to them when I was a cub. Who knows? I grew up toiling fields and doing all the manual labor. In return, they let me stay there and eat their dog food. Sometimes I'd steal from the pantry or snack on a few crops when no one was looking. They never counted them anyway. Then I'd go to the village square to run errands. No one ever liked me though; they were afraid of me. They called me furling, and I grew to hate that word. They called me a freak and a monster. It's weird, when you're told something enough times, you just believe it's true. Every time I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of the abomination people see. But one day I met Omaar. I still recall the first thing he said to me: "Wow, you stink. They don't wash you in that barn, beast?" Hehe. Tsk. Still so obnoxious, even back then. But then he asked me for my name. I didn't have one, not back then, my… caretakers didn't see the point. So it was Omaar's mother who named me, she named me Tengune, she said where she comes from it meant "moon's grace," though it's apparently a girl's name. But when I met Rem… She never once called me a beast. She always called me by my name. She said she thought my heads looked cool, probably the only one weird enough to think that. I remember one evening, under the crooked oak by the river, I tried a joke—something clumsy about the moon tripping over the stars. Rem threw her head back, her laugh ringing like a bell, her eyes sparkling as she swatted my arm and said, "Tengune, you're terrible at this, but don't you dare stop." She'd laugh at my crude, clumsy jokes, and so we'd play and sing together, and she would protect me. And then that day happened. I went in, and I told them, I was leaving, I was going to be an adventurer, leave this behind me, make something of myself. They all laughed at me, grabbed that club and hit me with it. "Our purchase doesn't get to run off because he feels like it, your kind doesn't deserve anything better." So I spoke, I argued, and I yelled, and I begged but then he tried to drag me back to the cage. He would always put me in there for days whenever I would misbehave, if they'd catch me stealing something. I was never going back there again. So I hit him back. That fat, pompous old man never knew when enough was enough, decided to pick up that damn branding iron, he'd always burn me with it when I'd resist. His wife was annoying too, tall and skinny, always shouting at me over nothing. The kids would always try to help, the two of them always kicking and punching me to help their father shove me in those metal bars. I just needed a flicker, just to get them all away from me, then the daughter, she burst into flame, screaming as the room fell silent, just watching her, then she fell silent. The mother ran over, just crying, shouting incoherent rubbish as the tears blinded her eyes as the father just stood there gawking like some lost fool. Then she ran at me with a knife, so we started fighting. Their son tried restraining me, but he was still a child with neither the strength or will for it. I aimed for their mother, but he got in the way, and they all burned. Then he just stood there, maybe he was still processing it or taking it in, I don't know, but he just dropped and started begging. The house was already aflame anyway, so I grabbed the branding iron, just to see how many he could take as I hit him again and again and again. I think I lost count after fifty, though he'd stopped moving after ten but... it doesn't matter anymore. When I left, there was already a crowd of villagers outside. I tried to make them understand, but they never listened. I guess I was stupid for thinking they would see my side of things, they never did. Suddenly they started running at me with pitchforks and knives and whatever else they could scavenge, so I had to start running. But they were coming from every direction, some got too close, so I burned them, and fire spread and spread until it couldn't spread anymore, I guess even a fire gets full. Someone grabbed me from behind, I was panicking, I didn't know what to do, everyone was trying to kill me, so… so I burned her, Rem, she screamed and screamed, I can still hear it. By the time the flames got to her lungs, she couldn't scream anymore, she stared at me… Then she…
Omaar stirred, the potion's warmth coursing through him, banishing the paralysis. He rose, wincing, and saw Tengune surrounded by piles of ash and nothingness, his form hunched, feral, eyes blazing with primal fury. Omaar smirked, readying his dagger. "Lost within your fantasies again, beast?" he called, stepping forward to face his friend, his movements sharp despite the lingering pain. "It's about time you wake up now, enough dreaming of what could have been."
But Tengune didn't see him. The crypt dissolved into a realm of pitch-black sky, an ocean of blood lapping at his knees. An apparition of himself loomed, three heads snarling, eyes glowing like embers, replacing what should be Omaar. "You plan to add me to the list of friends you've murdered, hero?" it sneered, its voice a chorus of his own rasped voice. Tengune froze, staff trembling, as he found himself to be his own challenger, but he would not falter; he was done running.
Omaar circled Tengune, and Tengune circled Tengune, the two staring as they steeled themselves. They rushed in and exchanged a flurry of blows and strikes, Tengune twirling his staff as his mirror twirled and dodged with moves he'd seen before, the blood ocean dancing to the movements, Omaar weaving and parrying with finesse and grace, countering Tengune's strikes, the crypt now softly illuminated by various pyres of flame. He'd seen these moves before.
"Your shamelessness has continued to surprise me," Tengune mocked. "A vessel with eyes folded shut to route of his own damnation"
"You're nothing but the worst side of me," Tengune growled, "something to be cast out and discarded."
"A cub's tantrum is still nothing but the wails of a child," Tengune hissed. "But you cannot fold your eyes away from this one."
"You're a monster with nothing but malice in you," Tengune barked, "a feral thing with no life worth living."
Omaar ducked into cover as Tengune's blasts became more hectic, now sending torrents of flame, and Omaar retreated into shadow, ambushing him from various angles.
"Does it speak to the mockery of itself or itself?" Tengune laughed. "A three way coin yet separate in its shared whole but its foul memory betrays itself. burned down that everwood,a soul taken, dear and now departed, with rage that forms the fabric of its being. It was you half was it not?"
"That's not—" Tengune stumbled. "It was never meant to be like this."
"Do you deny it, coward?" Tengune smirked, dodging to the left and plunging his claws into Tengune's side. "It will never be enough to sate you. For that is your mark, as mine is wrath and his hatred. A boon most foul yet proven its right to be feared by its own claws."
"If what you say is true, I'll admit it," Tengune confessed. "Maybe one of these days someone will find justice for my crimes and spike my heart. But until then, I will make it right so I can say to her I tried when death takes me. I can at least find some comfort in that."
Tengune rushed forward with blinding speed, his claws stopping at Tengune's neck.
"Those shackles will bind you for eternity, abomination, freedom is not a luxury handed forward freely, as mine are eternal eyes' forever harkened to your circus of shame," Tengune smiled. His mind cleared to find Omaar's dagger at his throat, though Omaar knew the battle was over and sheathed his dagger as the two stared at each other.
"Are you done?" Omaar smirked.
"Yeah," Tengune croaked.
"Let's leave this place," Omaar asked. "I hate it here."
"Are you sure? There's bound to be plenty of treasure here," Tengune mocked.
"Fine, die alone," Omaar snorted as he walked off, Tengune following behind, taunting him.
The two found their way out of the crypt to find the sun going down on the horizon. Back on the familiar path they left, now further along in their journey.
"Where are we?" Tengune asked.
"Tomorrow's problem," Omaar smirked. "I need to bathe in a lake right now."
"Yeah, that sounds nice," Tengune yawned.
"You bathe?" Omaar laughed. "I just assumed you shook like a dog every morning."
"And yet you shower and it still doesn't hide that dry skin and ugly facial features, so if you're done being an imbecile, let's go and find a lake. I'd love to sleep."
Omaar cracked a smile. There he is.