The ache in my skull was the first thing that registered—a deep, jarring throb that felt like it was splitting my head. Then came the rough chafing of a rope digging into the skin of my wrists and ankles, binding them tightly. Someone nearby groaned, a sound that quickly escalated into a shout of recognition and joy.
"Sir Vane! He's awake!"
I blinked, the sharp scent of pine smoke and wet earth filling my nose. I was lying on hard soil.
A surge of adrenaline, fueled by anger and sheer desperation, compelled me to pull against the ropes. But it was no use. Instead, I looked around.
The bright light of torches made shadows on the surface of familiar shapes: tents, crates, decorations. We were back. Not just at a camp, but our camp. The site of my great, ruinous endeavor.
Had bandits found us?
I scanned around me. All the men who were part of the hunt—Kael, Urian, Tomas, Roric, even the laborers whom I thought to have been killed by the beast—were there, lumped together and secured by the same ropes as me. Even the veteran hunters and retired Empire legionnaires, men whose arms were thick as tree trunks and whose nerves were steel, were defeated, motionless, or struggling in vain. If even they couldn't manage a single tear in the ropes, then what hope was there for a man whose only strength lay in his mouth and pockets? I let my shoulders slump, the last ember of resistance extinguished by the reality of the situation.
"What're we going to do?! Please! I have to get out of here! My little sister is ill, I-I need to survive!"
"Calm yourself, boy. If you were not dead then, then you will not be dead now. The one who has us bound must have something they want from us."
"No, no…no, I can't calm down! Can't you see? We're going to die! I just–Hrk—I need to get out of here!"
"Silence, fool!"
I hissed at the man still whimpering, tired of his fruitless struggle that reminded me of my own struggle.
"If you can't break free, at least maintain some—"
"He's right, Silver."
Kael muttered, his voice hoarse.
"What do they want? Why bring us back to our own base? Considering the power and intelligence of the beast we fought, there's a chance that it was the one that brought us back here. And since it's a beast, that must mean that it wants to 'toy' with us first before it finishes us off."
At that point, I did not respond. Not because I was mad at Kael for rebuking me, but because I knew his words held some truth to them. The thought that our lives were soon to be extinguished by the monster of the forest filled me with terror.
A nervous, low-sounding argument began, the men trading quiet fears about torture, ransom, or perhaps being devoured, when a sound, low and guttural, like a log slowly drowning into deep mud, stole the breath from the air out of everyone.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't a roar or a shriek, just a sound of utter contentment that somehow, terrifyingly, filled the silence that followed. Every head whipped around toward the place where the sound came from; the campfire. There, sitting in the soft yellow-orange light, was the one: The beast.
My eyes immediately snagged on the glinting axe, now clean, resting beside its owner. It sat down like a man resting after a hard day's work. It was an uncanny scene to witness. Had my life not been on the line right now, I would've questioned reality itself.
Then, all of a sudden, it moved.
Slowly, it tilted its head, its eyes—dark, depthless—swept over the huddled and bound captives.
My heart slammed against my ribs, a frantic and palpable panic swelled. A cold sweat instantly coated my back. My throat constricted, dry and tight, as if my windpipe was being strangled. The casual chatter was gone, replaced by an unnerving stillness. The beast stood up, rising from its seat, its massive body blocking the light behind it. The shadows it cast were long and menacing, swallowing us whole. My muscles involuntarily tensed, ready for a flight that was impossible, a fight that could not be had.
I could hear the shallow, terrified breaths of other men around me, but the only sound that mattered was the soft, rhythmic thud of the beast's feet on the dirt as he closed the distance.
Is this it? Is this how my life ends?
It stopped directly in front of me, its head tilted slightly, a mountain of dark green skin and dense muscle. The sight was even worse up close. Its face, framed by two great, protruding tusk-like teeth that jutted up and out from its lower jaw, was strangely devoid of expression, a void staring back at the fear it invoked. It simply watched us. My mind screamed at me to speak, to beg, to do something, but the only action I could manage was a ragged, shallow breath.
For a moment, he just watched. A long, silent evaluation that felt more invasive than any physical attack. Then, slowly, the beast opened his maw, exposing a frightening row of teeth. Behind me, a sharp, high-pitched yelp—unbecoming of such rugged men—and a strange shriek cut through the stillness. But for some reason, it closed its mouth again.
Then, the void-like eyes settled on me.
Don't look at me.
Before I could even register what was happening, I was being pulled away from the group; a large hand clamped around my upper arm, immense in power, and inescapable.
"No! Leave him!"
"SIR! SIR!"
I heard the distant yells of my men, their useless cries echoing in the night, but the words were all a blur. In my mind, a desperate, consuming panic settled in.
This is the end.
Not some glorious retirement, proving myself against my enemies in the Commerce Council, but this.
It was my fault.
All my ambition, planning, actions, had led me here, to the dirt, being hauled like a sack of unwanted luggage by a thinking, terrifying creature that I had fatally underestimated.
It's all worthless.
All those weeks of planning, the fortune I had spent, the ruthlessness I employed to reach this point—it was all worthless. I have been ruined not by politics or debt, but by a creature whose Intelligence score I can only assume is criminally low.
After what felt like years passed as my life flashed before my eyes, the dragging stopped. I was dropped onto the warm log on one side of the roaring campfire. The beast circled the flame with two massive strides and settled on the opposite side. Its hands, thick and heavy, came together in a slow steeple.
It gazed at me over its joined fingers, its expression still unreadable, like a judge about to pass sentence. The fire crackling was the only sound I could hear.
It looked straight into my eyes and uttered one single, strangely rough word:
"Grul."