Bandit groaned and opened his eyes, surprised to discover that he was still alive. He was soaked to his skin and covered in blood, mud, and grime in every color of the rainbow, but alive.

He spat out a mouthful of muck and then sat up, trying not to aggravate his impressive collection of injuries. He was bruised and battered, sliced up and sore. But his heart still beat, and his lungs still drew breath.

In defiance of the odds, Bandit hadn’t been crippled or killed. He was still able to fight for the future of his people.

That was when the full realization of what had happened broke over him. The ambush of the shadow-things, and the arrival of the tiger king. Their tussle as they went rolling down the hillside before tumbling into the river and going over the falls.

Bandit was certain that the shadow cat monarch had taken the same plunge. He had to be somewhere down here. If Bandit was still alive, then the king was too. After all, the leader of the shadow tigers was a powerful dreadbeast, a great deal tougher than any member of the tribe. The king boasted a constitution superior to that of any lemur, himself included.

It seemed that Bandit’s fight wasn’t over yet. The battle was still underway.

He had to find the king before the tiger found him. It was kill or be killed. It was as simple as that. The cruel creature would never leave this place without Bandit’s head as a trophy, not after the scar Bandit had left on his pride. The dreadbeast was coming, and Bandit had to be ready.

Searching for any sign of his enemy, he cast his senses into the environment while scanning his surroundings, careful not to move a muscle or make a sound.

In the distance he could hear the endless roar of the falls, as the water plunged into the depths of the earth to form an underground river. The waterway that had carried him to the sandy patch of soil where he now sat. But try as he might, Bandit could uncover no trace of the tiger king. Since this was the place where the riverbank began, the shadow cat was either further downstream or even better at hiding than Bandit had feared.

Having been granted a moment of respite, he moved on to probing his wounds, trying to determine if he could walk without opening his injuries and bleeding out. Every inch of his body was bruised, and he was half-drowned to boot, but at least nothing seemed broken and most of his blood was inside his body. His claw wounds had already begun to close, a gift of his resilient new form.

But that was the extent of the good news. His left leg was badly sprained, and some of those cuts ran deep. He wouldn’t last long in a fight, so he had to make every move count. Ready to begin exploring his surroundings, he reached for his metal fang, only to find it missing.

Bandit wrestled down the urge to panic as he began searching the nearby shoreline. As bad as things were regardless, he had no chance without his weapon of choice. The dregs of mana in his core weren’t going to cut it, and his natural weapons were laughable compared to those of a tiger.

He sniffed at the air and started to walk, catching a whiff of blood that wasn’t his own before breaking into a wicked grin. The king was wounded too. He might still have a chance.

The ravine overhead threw scattered shafts of sunlight across the riverbank, interwoven with thick pools of shadow. It was an ideal location for the shadow tiger’s power, but at least Bandit wouldn’t be fighting blind. He had enough mana to cast one, maybe two fireballs if they were small, and just enough stamina to use his other abilities if left with no other choice. He was already exhausted and activating them would deplete his limited pool of vital energy.

As he crept forward as quietly as he could, Bandit’s thoughts turned to the tribe and the jungle high above. He hoped that he’d broken the king’s spell in time to save his people. That they’d been able to escape and were already long gone, back over on their side of the jungle without further slaughter.

But he couldn’t worry about that now. It didn’t change what he had to do next. Bandit wasn’t leaving here without the king’s head, even if it meant that he never left at all.

He wasn’t well suited to fighting solo. The tribe’s strength had always been built upon working together, guarding each other’s backs at every turn. Being alone in the darkness made his worst fears run rampant across the theater of his imagination.

He scanned the muddy earth, tensing at every shifting shadow. Every unidentifiable echo reverberating across the ravine. He knew that each step he took might lead him into an ambush. That every breath he drew could well be his last. But Bandit refused to give up or give in, taking comfort from Neek’s example.

Neek had been trapped on the island, away from his tribe, but the brave warrior had never fallen into despair. He’d faced every challenge that was thrown his way, no matter how great the task. Even the death that walks on two legs hadn’t been able to claim his life and she’d looked Neek’s way with respect in her eyes. Bandit would follow in Neek’s footsteps and face his fear. Die fighting for every last breath.

A patch of sunlight flittered across Bandit’s eyes, leaving an afterimage floating in his vision. For a moment, he thought that he was under attack. But when it happened again, he turned his head to track the motion, relief flooding every cell of his body when he realized what it was.

There, flashing in an errant sunbeam, was Bandit’s blade. The weapon that he had chosen to be his fang was protruding from the riverbank like it was attacking the darkness. He limped over to retrieve the blade, then secured it to his harness with a touch, glad to have its comforting weight resting across his shoulders once more.

It was fated to be a short-lived solace. The moment that the weapon snapped into place, Bandit heard a low growl, followed by sinister laughter.

“By all means, arm yourself. This wouldn’t be any fun if you couldn’t bite back.”

Bandit drew his fang and cast his gaze across the ravine, desperately searching for the origin of the voice, but spotting nothing but shadows within shadows. For a moment, he thought that it was a member of the hairless tribe, perhaps someone who could help him win the fight. But then Bandit realized that he recognized the flavor of the voice if not its tone. The cruelty, arrogance, and sadistic amusement.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it, but in that moment Bandit knew. The dreadbeast monarch could talk.

“Surprised that I can speak, are you? The feat is simple enough once you learn the trick. After I devoured a few dozen of those ugly two-legged creatures, the ones you call the hairless tribe, I was able to absorb their language. After that, recreating the sound of their mouth-noises with magic was a trivial task. You can understand me, can’t you? I’ve heard rumors that you have a proficiency for language far beyond that of the rest of your people.”

While Bandit was indeed shocked to learn that the tiger could speak, and did in fact, understand the meaning of the words, he knew that this was a good sign. If the king was trying to distract him in a bid to buy time, his injuries must be worse than Bandit had thought. The proud creature would never choose to address him otherwise, let alone as an equal. His suspicions were confirmed with the shadow cat’s next words.

“Your life doesn’t have to end down in this dank hole. You could join us. Transcend the old order and embrace the new. Live forever and consume all who dare challenge your domain.”

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Bandit decided that the tiger must be summoning more shadow-things, but his injuries were slowing him down. Bandit had to stop him before the king completed the spell. Shutting out the dreadbeast’s banter, he cast himself out of his body, following the great web of life that flows through all places.

He knew that he was running out of time when bloodthirst started seeping through the dreadbeast’s façade, the anticipation of a hunger that would soon be sated. “Now, the hunt begins. It’s time to repay you for this indignity, little beast. I’ll enjoy listening to your screams then devour your people down to the last shrieking cub.”

Mold and moss. Bats and beetles. Bandit felt the threads of life winding around one another, binding earth, water, and sky into a single tapestry. He started probing those bonds until he found what he was looking for. A fetid patch where the web was broken. A festering blight that was… directly behind him.

Bandit spun and raised his fang, bringing the blade up and then bracing himself for impact. The magic metal caught both sets of the tiger’s claws, half a heartbeat before they could tear out his throat.

Bright sparks and flakes of keratin rained into the air, granting Bandit a brief vision of his enemy… and the pair of shadow-things that had spread out to flank him. They would have gutted him in that moment if the flash hadn’t let him see them coming in the nick of time.

Instead of being torn asunder, he threw his body back, ducking beneath one set of midnight jaws and leaping away from the next. He knew that his next move would mean the difference between life and death.

As the summons spread out to flank Bandit, the king kept on coming straight down the middle. His steps were unhurried, like this was nothing more than a game. Bandit realized in that instant that it was a deception. That one of the tiger’s hindlegs was broken, though he forced himself to walk on it without flinching.

This was better news than he’d dared to hope. If Bandit could take out the shadows, he still had a chance of winning the fight. The problem was, the shadow-things were impervious to physical attacks and he was almost out of mana. At least the king was running dry too, otherwise he’d have called up a score of shadows instead of just a pair.

Bandit took his stance and held his blade before him, drawing upon the magic within. He was certain that in another handful of heartbeats, they’d come for him as one. Now it all came down to timing.

Instead of waiting for their attack, Bandit took the initiative, charging straight for the king with his fang poised to strike.

His heart pounded in his chest. Adrenaline sang in his veins. He knew with stark clarity that the next few seconds would determine whether he lived or died. Whether his people had a future or would vanish like dust on the breeze. He refused to let such thoughts distract him. Instead, he poured every scrap of his strength, every drop of his will, every fiber of his being into making this moment count.

Both shadows converged on him from the sides, ready to hit his exposed flanks the moment that Bandit committed to his attack. But instead of lashing out with his blade, he leapt to one side, feinting and then leaping over the shadow on his left. Still in midair, he completed his spell, and a raging ball of flame flickered to life within his palm.

He let loose his magic at point blank range, catching the shadow-thing square in the back. It burst into pieces that vanished like smoke. He scampered back to open some space, but before he could disengage, wet agony erupted along one side of his head. Bandit looked up to see the king examining his claws, upon which one of Bandit’s ears was transfixed.

The tiger popped the ear into his mouth and then swallowed. “Not bad at all, if a little gamey. I wonder what part of you I’ll savor next.” Bandit didn’t let the performance distract him. He knew it was just a ruse. Sure enough, he sensed magic gathering behind him, as the shadow-thing stepped from one patch of darkness to another.

He spun and forced the last of his mana into his hand, summoning a wan fireball that barely dispelled the darkness around it. This spell was weak and wouldn’t last long. It wasn’t going to do any damage unless Bandit got close.

Thus, rather than darting away when the thing sprang at him, Bandit ducked and rolled underneath, reaching up to shove his fireball straight into the shadow’s chest.

It was enough to destabilize the mana holding it together and the shadow-thing dispersed… right after it lashed out with its claws, claiming one of Bandit’s hands in exchange.

“Down an ear and a hand. What’s next, I wonder? I think I’ll claim… your head.” With that, the king leapt at Bandit, both clawful paws streaking down to claim his life.

Only able to hold his blade with one arm, Bandit deflected one set of claws and ducked beneath the other. Before he could get away, the king’s fangs sank into his shoulder, shearing muscle and nerve all the way down to the bone, keeping Bandit from pulling back.

It was a bad situation by any reckoning… and also exactly what he’d been counting on.

Out of mana, unable to dodge or block with his blade, Bandit only had one thing left he could do. He had an ability that burned stamina and health instead of mana, and it was only effective up close. He stabbed his fang into the king’s paw, certain that his arm would give way within seconds, while sending all his remaining vital energy into his palm.

His hand began glowing with a fiery light, as heat warped the air around it. The tiger realized that something was wrong, but before he could get away, Bandit struck.

He jabbed his searing palm into the king’s chest, burning through fur and flesh and then the tissue below. He felt his bone give way a heartbeat later, shearing his arm off at the shoulder, the same arm that had already lost its hand.

Yowling in pain, the dreadbeast tried to pull back and let Bandit expire from blood loss. But before that could happen, Bandit leapt onto the tiger’s back, grabbing hold with his hind legs while pouring his life into his burning hand. Sending the flames not only into the dreadbeast’s flesh, but deeper, into the energetic core that all beasts share, searing away the king’s very essence.

With that, the tiger went mad, rolling in the dirt, bucking and writhing, doing everything he could to knock Bandit off. But Bandit merely gritted his teeth and held on, as the dreadbeast’s claws carved into his body time and time again.

By now, cracks were forming along the tiger king’s core, but Bandit’s hide was a weeping mess of sundered flesh. The king turned to bite him, severing Bandit’s tail in the process. His next swipe claimed Bandit’s eye.

His vision was growing dark, as incandescent pain consumed his world. The final drops of his stamina and health were pouring into his burning palm, as Bandit traded his life to take his enemy down with him.

Just before the last flicker of health vanished, the king’s core shattered. The dreadbeast reared back, tossing Bandit aside before crashing to the ground, terror carved into every crook of his features.

“No, this can’t be. I can’t lose, not now, not to you. They promised me that I would rule forever. They promised…” With that, the shadow cat twitched a final time and the life faded from his eyes.

Bandit could no longer see. No longer hear. He no longer hurt, he just felt cold. The icy chill of the grave. In another few seconds, his heart would stop, and he’d join the king in feeding the jungle.

As Bandit took his final breath, he sensed a massive release of power. The king’s core had shattered, releasing the energy trapped inside it. There was an incredible concentration of mana, along with something more, and in that moment, it burst forth from its prison, washing over everything.

It bathed him in coruscating sheets of shadow, sinking deep into his body and his core. His bones and his blood.

Bandit was terrified that he was being infected with the dreadbeast’s taint. That he would become a monster like them no matter what he willed. He tried to crawl away before it was too late, to die on his own terms, but he was too weak to move.

He was helpless to resist the change, cursed to become a creature of darkness like them. But then he realized that this darkness felt pure. Natural mana, with the taint washed clean.

It was seeping into his being, filling Bandit with energy and remaking him on a fundamental level. When the darkness arrived at his burning core, instead of extinguishing the flaming sphere, the shadows merged with it, becoming one and the same. Darkness mana and shadow essence combined, forming something more than either.

In that moment, a concept was born. Shadow flame, the words resounded across his soul.

The potent concept transformed Bandit’s core, filling it, then catalyzing his evolution, remaking his body on a fundamental level. The burning shadows stitched his hide closed, reattaching muscle and vein.

They remade his arm, then his hand. His tail, then his eye. The restored parts were still flesh… but shadow and flame as well. When it was done, Bandit realized that he could see the murky ravine as clear as noon. That darkness was no longer a barrier to his sight.

He took a step on his new leg, reveling in the power filling his body. Now able to see in the dark, he held up his shadow hand and drew upon the energy welling up from his core.

A ball of roiling shadow flame flickered into existence, fire that cast shadow instead of light. He held up his other hand, willing his old spell into being. Flickering orange flames formed a second fireball, a mirror contrast of its twin.

It seemed that this ordeal had left him transformed but alive, catalyzing his evolution into something new, never before seen. Shaking his head at the strangeness of it all, Bandit strapped his fang onto his back and began looking for a way out of the ravine, ready to rejoin his people.