The thundering roar did not startle Aybel in the slightest. This familiar sound signalled the end of his watch; powerful reverberations dispersed into the night air, echoing loudly down endless corridors of trees like the languid song of a leviathan stirring in the ocean's depths.

Are they late? Again?! They should be here for the handover. Aybel waited at the outermost watchtower. Left in absolute isolation, he peered over his shoulder, his agitation growing with every moment. It was the most unfavourable station, drowned in the constant shadow of the jungle’s eternal darkness. A maddening experience. Much more tolerable with company, a luxury he’d never been given.

Aybel squinted towards the main grounds, barely able to make out the silhouette of Morana’s Keep—a colossal pyramid-like structure angular and imposing, coated in lush moss and surrounded by jungle undergrowth. It was faintly lit and about an hour’s walk to safety.

I still can’t see their lanterns, I don’t want to keep waiting much longer— my duties are over. I’ve earned my rest after two weeks of guard. He gathered his belongings within his knapsack, a charming bag he had made himself, neatly bound by local leaves and sticks. He didn’t bring much with him for his watch. Instead, he spent his time reading about ancient history. The book he was on now was titled The Times of Restoration: From Cultural Ruins to Riches, a popular tome in Ululen historical circles.

Apart from books, there was an array of botanical roots, herbs, and mycelium strands. Also, sachets of Elderoot powder, various jars of salt, and ambered honey—the eclectic items of a Serum Artistan.

On my way back, I’ll bump into them and let them know that Elder Oydcarius will be notified about their tardiness… Again!

The inside of the watchtower was a quaint room. Crafted from wood and engraved with sanctuary runes to ward off unwanted company. A single bed, neatly made with light green sheets, stood beside a wooden table by the window. In the centre of the floor lay a hatch, with a ladder leading to the jungle floor below.

With his knapsack slung over his shoulder, Aybel climbed onto the ladder. The trip down was daunting. Below him, the black void gaped, a fall he couldn't afford. He tried not to think about how far the fall was and steadily made his way down. His descent was slow, the ladder slick under his trembling fingers.

It felt as if the whole wild had its sights set upon him, a looming presence breathing down his neck. The air was off-kilter, littered with an ominous and earthy prelude to rain. The jungle was teeming with all forms of life, mysterious, bewildering… and lethal. Beings he dared not wish to face, and he wouldn’t have to as long as he remained within the grounds.

I risk my life because those fools can’t show up on time. I can’t stand how dark it is. This was the second time he had to climb down without light. His prior experience scaling the ladder certainly bolstered his confidence but he couldn’t absolutely shake his sense of trepidation. ‘Violence brews in darkness’, he recalled the wise words of his masters. An indescribable malaise overcame him.

From the belly of the jungle, he heard a call. A soulful shriek that morphed into a sick maelstrom of ghastly voices. He could not decipher the message but intuitively sensed the danger. The cry was coarse and ended abruptly, like being forcefully awoken from a deep sleep. A crater grew in his stomach. He couldn’t fathom what could make such a noise.

Now… I’ve never heard anything like that before. The spirits might make some commotion, yes, every now and then… but never deliberately. They easily heard that from the top of the Keep. What would the elders make of such a sound? Might Morana’s life be in true danger for once?

The call sounded off again. Closer this time.

Such haste. He froze as ancient fear flooded him, stranding him halfway down the ladder. His jumbled senses made him feel like he stood no chance against whatever was out there.

Why haven’t they signalled an alert yet? I hope it’s not brave enough to breach the grounds. A radiant warmth burst from his belly, the soothing sensation of his powers awakening.

Now? Why now? Channelling mystical energy wasn’t his strong suit. When instinct provided him with the ability to do so, he had no choice but to let it guide him. Light erupted from his hands, hurling towards the direction of the sound. This beam of energy shot through the jungle, creating a strobe effect as it zoomed past the corridor of trees. He was astonished, the creatures of the night even more so; the only light they knew was that of the moon and flame. He trembled as the light continued to travel further away and quickly continued his descent. It had covered a fair distance when it flickered out abruptly, a candle snuffed in the dark of the jungle. This occurred precisely on the outskirts of Runespyre. As he reached the bottom, he stared at his hands in disbelief.

That’ll lead it right to me! Why would I do that?! He faced the expanse of jungle, calculating his next steps. Sooner or later, the others would have to show up. The symphony of rain was about to roll in. He was shielded under the towering treehouse above him. The percussive pattering of raindrops impeded the accuracy of his listening. A glint caught his attention from above him. He peered up. Strange. A pulsating mossy-green glow emanated from the watchtower as if a massive glowfly was inside. The rhythmic throbbing was entrancing and primal.

The sanctuary runes? So, maybe it is a spirit. He’d never witnessed them in action before. Didn’t think those scribbles even worked. As he was finally regaining some sense of safety, he heard the distant muttering of voices approaching from the main grounds. The replacement guard was almost there.

They need to see this; how else is anyone going to believe me? The unfamiliar heat of mystical energy brewing within him started up again, more intense this time. He closed his eyes, trying to keep the lid on his power as it was unconsciously being brought to a boil. His unparalleled intuition was on prime display, overriding what little autonomy he possessed over his own abilities.

I’m about to make a spectacle of myself again. His cheeks rouged, nauseous with the thought of his peers catching him using his powers. His whole body was idling with horrible tremors. Had he been just like them, a true Ululen, no such fears would mar his mind. A barrage of pure mystical light burst out of him, thousands of orbs charged towards the same direction, towards the spirit. This time, his attack didn’t travel far at all. The glowing light of the sanctuary runes dispersed at the same time, joining Aybel’s unintentional defence, trying to impede the advances of whatever malignant being sought him out. But so, too, was this attack snuffed out, alongside a whimpering cry as if the projectiles had somewhat injured it. The agony of the beast was corrosive and metallic, as though it had been hammered relentlessly by waves of scalding steam. The spirit was close; Aybel felt himself within its reach, yet it was still cloaked in obscurity. He desperately wished he could see his night-stalker. His eyes darted frantically around the vague and impressionable darkness; each curvature of plant and subtle movement of nocturnal creatures seemed equally as likely to send him to an early grave.

I was hoping the runes would put up more of a fight. The superiors of the Elders forged them. Surely, they’d be enough to fend off a common threat… unless I’ve got something much bigger on my hands. A big part of Aybel couldn’t conceive himself being in any real danger. He had spent his whole life in Runespyre, a more monotonous existence there couldn’t be, according to him.

His gut had never failed him before, so he intended to listen to it. The amorphous whisperings of Ramier and Karlyle finally took shape.

They’re here! He’d never experienced such elation upon hearing their juvenile voices; typically, he met the sound with indifference or disdain.

The acolyte youths were making their way up a steep incline of dense jungle, approaching the outer watchtower. A worn and stony path led the way, dutifully eroded by the feet of acolytes spanning generations. Each one had spent their entire lives here, in eternal service to Morana. Aybel could just catch the faint glimmer of the torch as it danced playfully amongst the thickets.

“He’s fine, believe me, giggles won’t care,” a nasal voice said. They were still a bit too far to determine who’s who but the radiance of the torch held safety, safeguarded by light.

“Quick!” Aybel exclaimed in distress. Upon his vocalisation, they hastened their pace.

“Can’t handle a bit of darkness? We’re only a little la— ” Rameir’s words crumbled into dust as his eyes caught the vibrant glow of the Sanctuary Runes.

“Throwing a party without us, I see,” Karlyle snarkily followed, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Giggles… what have you done?!” Rameir shouted in confusion. He was three years younger than Aybel, face round and unblemished. His deep onyx complexion was otherworldly under the torch’s light.

“We need to warn the others! Now! Raise the alert. There’s a spirit out there, and I think it’s about to attack,” Aybel said frantically as he dashed to meet up with them. He spoke in earnest but could painfully see the doubt in his fellow brothers. They all stared at the residual glow of the runes, faintly pulsating.

They don’t believe me, the sanctuary runes are glowing, and they don’t believe me!

“DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT SANCTUARY RUNES ARE FOR?!” He erupted in desperation. Every rustle and movement from the surrounding bushes caught his attention like a skittish prey animal evading its final blow.

"Relax, hero, the runes are probably freaking out because of your magic tricks. Nevetchi beasts aren’t supposed to roam these lands… or did you forget?” Karlyle spoke with venom. His turgid face contorted in mockery. They definitely caught a glimpse of the light show then…

“Lyle, he does look a bit more flustered than the last time we left him waiting here,” Rameir confessed. He appeared more considerate, sensing the genuine terror in Aybel’s voice.

These imbeciles, if I could roar like they can, I would’ve alerted the others myself! If they won’t do it for me, they’ll certainly do it for…

“Ara’yuna ous Morana.” Aybel whispered the words with reverent apprehension but spoke with undeniable sincerity. The boys faced him in horror.

“We don’t recite verses from the Creed lightly, Aybel!” Rameir said sternly.

“You be careful now, giggles,” Karlyle warned, hoping that’d make him stop. Aybel had spoken words no acolyte ever recited, they had all only ever heard this phrase once when they were taught what it meant.

“ARA’YUNA OUS MORA—na!” Aybel shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice faltered a brassy, uneven note that lacked the resonant power of an Ululen. Desperation clawed at him, pushing him to emulate their mighty roar despite knowing it would never reach their level.

The intensity of light emanating from the watchtower surged. Rameir and Karlyle exchanged worrying glances. Karlyle staunched Aybel and firmly placed his hand over his mouth. He could feel Aybel shaking like a leaf.

“Shhhhhh, enough! I believe you,” Rameir said as he reached over and patted Aybel’s face. “But we can’t enact Ara’yuna Aybel. We haven’t seen anything ourselves.” Rameir looked back at Karlyle. “Do we call for help or what, Karlyle?” Karlyle let go of Aybel, took a contemplative pause and shrugged.

“Let’s wait and see for ourselves. No way we call upon the full military strength of Runespyre for one spirit. It might be a common Delphant, for all we know. If it is bold enough to attack, we can deal with it on our own.”

Aybel couldn’t believe his ears. Rameir stood with his arms crossed, eyes glazed over with uncertainty. Karlyle placed a hand on the ladder, his bravado waned instantly as he eyed the dark treeline.

“Ha! A common Delphant, sure. And if it’s a Vyris? Or a Veskar? A fucking Aexis?! Can we handle those, do you think? Huh LYLE?!” Aybel butted in. He snatched the torch out of Rameir’s hand. “Make your way up the watchtower and figure it out for yourselves. Either way, I’m sending help as soon as I make it back.”

“Giggles, I don’t know what any of those are, or what they do for that matter, so just stop being a worrying pustule for once in your life.” He spat on the ground, the contempt clear in his voice. “How’s this instead? Us, the first Moranean acolytes to shield Morana. Precisely how the Primordials willed it. Doesn’t sound half bad to me.”

Oh, so the chance to prove his—what? Resolve? That’s what he’s after! He couldn’t care less about Morana, truly. Aybel stared hopelessly in disbelief while the boys made sure they had all their gear before scaling the ladder.

Suddenly, his chest constricted. A gnawing tightness seized his lungs. Something had a hold of him, telling him to run, flee, do anything to get away… immediately. The Sanctuary Runes lost their green lustre and adopted the colour of coals. This malignant light spilled forth like blood out of a wound. The protective and familiar green being tainted could only mean one thing. Aybel peered above to witness the shadowy glow, confirming his dreaded fears. The rain picked up, crescendoing into a torrential barrage. The stage is set.

The sweet smell of petrichor was defiled with a vile stench akin to a carcass left out in the summer heat. Aybel’s stomach twisted into sharp knots. The wet squelching sound of heavy footsteps stole the focus of all of them, the weight of those movements… troubling.

“Ara’yuna ous Morana, Ara’yuna ous Morana, Ara’yuna ous Morana…” Aybel could not stop repeating the words quietly under his breath, but Rameir and Karlyle did not register his words. They had never been truly acquainted with fear until this moment. The paralysis was all-consuming.

Aybel’s palms were enveloped in a searing blaze that made him feel as though his flesh would fall straight off the bone. He let out an aggressive, whimpering cry and fell to the floor, dropping his torch in the process. This sound seemed to sober the boys up immediately. Rameir ran over to Aybel, desperately attempting to get him back onto his feet. Karlyle picked the torch off the floor, still lit.

“Help me with him, Karlyle!” Rameir said as he slung one of his arms around his shoulder.

“This calls for Ara’yuna.” He replied.

“No, don’t!” He paused briefly, groaning as he finally managed to get Aybel to stand. “We flee while we still can.” Aybel staggered as Rameir tried to support him, his legs barely able to carry his own weight.

The nauseating noise of its approach was growing ever nearer, their blood ice cold and breath battered.

“Morana’s survival is our main priority here.” Karlyle stepped forward, raising his head toward the canopy. Rain poured down his face as he inhaled deeply, his body trembling with the weight of the responsibility. He tapped into his Ululen birthright, summoning a massive well of power from within, his chest expanding as the force gathered. His heart throbbed in his throat as the intensity grew until it reached a serene peak, where he felt fused with the primordial power within.

He unleashed his roar.

“ARA’YUNA OUS MORANA” The words hurled outwards with all the kinetic energy of a slingshot stretched to its very limits. The guttural scream sent out shockwaves; each droplet of rain shivered from the raw force of the scream, suspended for a heartbeat before resuming their descent in chaotic, jittering trails.

The sound penetrated the very fibre of one’s being. Aybel stiffened as he felt the sonic current pass straight through him. He thought it would be heard as far north as Frostvayne. Aybel never ceased to be in awe of the Ululen scream, especially up so close. The primal screech sent the whole jungle stirring. The creature’s advance faltered. Its heavy footsteps stilled as if even it sensed the gravity of what had just been unleashed.

Karlyle heaved a heavy sigh of relief; his chest rose and fell rapidly under the electrifying hum of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The forest was suspended in an eerie quiet, no longer perturbed by any unusual disturbances. The steady flow of rain and faint echoes of Karlyle’s cry was off gallivanting to the furthest reaches of the land.

The glow of the Sanctuary Runes had extinguished. A promising sign for the frightened acolytes. The torch flame was now the only light for miles.

“They’re coming… they-they’re coming,” Rameir stuttered as his grip grew tighter around Aybel’s shoulder.

“You… did… the right… thing,” Aybel said feebly, his hands still soaked in agony and unable to keep his head up. I must be losing it cause ‘Karlyle’ and the words ‘right thing’ do not belong in the same sentence. The silence, although comforting, held the boys in a state of unease. The creature was right in their peripheries, only hidden by the cover of night under the canopy of trees.

Suddenly, they heard the reply. A weathered and thundering cry exploded to sonic heights a young Ululen could only dream of. That’s Oydcarius! They’re answering the call. The boys exchanged glances, unsure of their next course of action.

“Let’s head back. We’ll meet them halfway. We’re flowers waiting to be squashed here like this,” Rameir said as he started guiding Aybel down the path between the thickets. Aybel grunted softly with each step. Rameir monitored him carefully as he helped him walk. Karlyle stood beside the ladder, still facing towards the jungle.

Rameir turned his head to call Karlyle over, but the words froze in his throat. Something shifted from the darkness—a deeper black against the night, moving with lithe, unnatural grace. The stench of decay rushed over them, thick and choking.

He caught a glimpse of teeth—rows upon rows of jagged white in a maw wide enough to swallow him whole.