The roar came again.
Closer this time.
It rolled through the jungle like thunder trapped beneath the earth, heavy enough to shake leaves loose from the canopy. The ground vibrated under my feet, not violently, but with steady, deliberate steps.
We were being approached.
Beside me, the man scuttled backward, a little man of panic who might have lost whatever strength was left in him. He looked over his shoulder, then back at me, eyes wide and glassy.
"That sound," he whispered. "That's not a beast."
A lower growl broke in upon him. This was much slower and layered with pressure, crawling straight across my skull. Instantly, the jungle responded. The air thickened; the trees bent inward, almost as if bowing.
Genuine horror!
Not born of some black art.
Not stitched together by curses.
Something that the jungle herself recognized.
My chest tightened.
The fire within me unsteadily stirred, no longer swelling with confidence but bracing for something like a creature that lowers itself into a stance before an unwinnable fight.
I helped the man to his feet.
"Can you move?" I asked.
He was forcing a laugh. "If I stop, I die. That's how this place works."
Fair enough.
We ran.
Not in blind panic. By instinct now, my feet carried me along narrow winding paths between roots and gnarled trunks. I followed the path without questioning, the jungle shifted around us not blocking our path, but neither giving us any assistance.
The no-man's land.
Somewhere behind us, something else colossal smashed its way through the undergrowth. Trees cracked like brittle bones. Each footfall landed with horrifying precision, not the aimless annihilation of a rabid beast.
It was hunting.
The man gasped, already losing ground. Blood soaked into his ragged clothing, dripping onto the leaves. I could feel the jungle reacting to it, the low hum of magic intensifying.
A trail.
"Drop it!" I said curtly.
He gave me a confused look.
"The blood," I snapped. "Wipe it. Roll in the dirt. Anything."
For just a second he hesitated but then he just collapsed onto the forest floor, smearing mud and leaves across the open wounds. I did the same thing—putting my hands into the dirt and rubbing it on my arms and chest.
The warmth within me flared weakly, resisting the jungle's pull.
Then we ran again.
The roar came from the side now.
Very close.
I shoved the man toward an impressive cluster of roots jutting out from the ground: "Hide. Don't move."
"What about you?" he hissed.
I did not answer.
I turned and ran the other way.
Every instinct screamed that this was suicide. The weight of the pressure increased with every step, warning me, urging me to turn back.
This thing was not a test to be passed.
It was a consequence.
I burst into a clearing and skidded to a halt.
The jungle grew quiet.
Then it stepped out of the trees.
At first, I could not tell what I was seeing. The creature was like a gigantic panther, but that was all. Its body seemed to be clothed with dark, overlapping plates that looked like stone fused with flesh. There were glowing veins of soft green light running beneath the armor, pulsing slowly.
His head hung low, with his eyes fixed on me.
They were not red and wild.
They were calm.
Intelligent.
This was a guardian.
Something the jungle sent when its balance was disturbed.
I swallowed.
"So," I muttered, forcing my voice to remain steady, "you're the price."
The creature did not roar. It did not charge.
It walked toward me.
With each step, a load heavier than anything I had felt before came crashing down on my chest. My knees buckled, and I went to one knee, my breath coming in gasps, my hands digging painfully into the dirt.
Inwardly, the heat flared up in desperation.
It was not enough.
The creature halted several meters away, lowering its head slightly, fixing its eyes on me. Its tail lashed once, carving a deep groove into the ground.
Judgment.
I fought to rise. My muscles screamed at the effort, bones groaning beneath the weight, warmth trickling from my nose again, steady and bright.
"You noticed me," I said through clenched teeth. "That was all. I didn't break anything."
The creature's eyes narrowed.
The jungle spoke for it.
Pain slapped into me without warning, burning through every nerve. I screamed and fell flat, vision erupting into white as a torrent of images surged through my mind—rituals feeding on survivors, power usurped and refined, the jungle sustaining its diabolical equilibrium.
I had disrupted a harvest.
The guardian took a step closer.
This was not a fight.
This was an execution.
No tricks. No clever strikes. No desperate rush of will.
I was about to be erased.
The heat inside me crackled hotter than ever before, screaming to be let loose—but something was blocking it. Like a sealed gate refusing to be opened.
Stage One was not enough.
I laughed weakly, tears streaming down my dying face.
"So this is it," I whispered. "I interfere once… and that's the end?"
The guardian raised one immense paw.
The pressure surged.
Then—
The ground trembled.
Not from the guardian.
From behind it.
The creature froze, its ears flicking slightly in a gesture of mild discomfort. The head casually twisted so I could see tension ripple through the creature's armored body.
Another presence had entered the field.
The pressure from the jungle faded.
A deep, slow chuckle rolled through the clearing.
"Well," the voice said, calm but amused," you certainly are interesting."
A figure stepped from among the trees.
Human.
Mostly.
He stood tall in dark, weathered armor inscribed with symbols resembling the ones adorning the ritual pillar, but enervated, channelled. His eyes glowed with dim gold light—not madness, but comprehension.
The guardian rumbled, a soft, malicious snarl.
The man raised a hand.
"Easy," he said. "I won't take your prey."
Prey.
My teeth clenched.
He turned his gaze back to me, tilting his head just slightly. "You broke a filter and lived. That alone should have killed you."
He glanced at the guardian. "And now you've called this thing before you're ready."
He smiled.
"Impressive. Stupid."
The guardian shifted uneasily now.
"You shouldn' t be here," he continued. "Stage One survivors usually last days. Sometimes weeks. You have hours."
He drew closer to me, crouching at the limit of the guardian's reach.
"Tell me," he murmured, "do you feel it yet? The cost?"
I grimaced, pain roaring through my body.
"What cost?" I rasped.
His smile faded.
"The jungle doesn't give power for free."
The inferno inside me pulsed painfully, suddenly threatening to erupt. Something twisted deep in my chest, like a crack in my very foundation.
My vision blurred again.
"You are burning through yourself," the man said calmly. "Your power is converting too fast with your will. Keep this up and you will not die at the hands of a beast."
"You'll implode."
The guardian growled, the paw lifted again.
The man stood and sighed. "I cannot directly interfere. Rules."
He looked down at me one last time.
"But I can give you a choice."
The pressure lifted just enough to allow me a breath.
"Run," he said. "Let the jungle take back what you stole. Live weaker than before."
"'Or stay," he continued, his gaze turning steely, "and press on."
I looked at the guardian.
At the jungle closing in.
At the heat tearing itself apart within me.
If I ran, I would survive—but weaker.
If I stayed—
I might not survive at all.
I smiled, blood dripping from my chin.
"Seems like a bad time," I said in an almost whisper, "to start backing down."
The man's eyes opened just a hint wider.
The guardian roared.
And something within me shattered.