Elian and Thorren departed through the gates, Thorren’s cousins waving goodbye behind them.

Nelisha told Elian a few days ago she’d prefer if Thorren did anything else other than call for Tribulations to earn money. She mentioned hunting. That was what they would do now, but she looked distraught about it. Elian was more than half sure Thorren told her they’d pass the area around the Forbidden Temple, called the Dark Forest by some. Even if Thorren didn’t share the specifics, the southern forests were known to be more dangerous than other areas around the hills.

She shouldn’t be so worried. Thorren had prepared well for their trip.

Wrapped around his body was high-quality leather armor with intricate runic stitching. Its black color glinted luxury, though the worn patches here and there told of its extensive use. Another hand-me-down from his father or uncle. Along with the layers of armor he wore for his Tribulation, Thorren’s family seemed to be quite well-off.

Thorren also had a large hunting knife strapped to his right hip, a quiver of arrows with different magical heads secured on his left, a backpack, and a bow slung across it. Lastly, he had a lantern ball dangling from his bag, the new model that maintained light even as the liquid inside dried up. Thorren could very well live off hunting magical beasts instead of doing Tribulations on the Stage of Devotions. The donations he’d receive wouldn’t be large, considering his low Tribulation level.

Surely, there was more to the story of this mysterious Rakhonite family best kept as their business.

Elian had invited Thorren for the hunt but looked less prepared in comparison. He had his own backpack with a rolled-up sleeping bag stacked on top. His newly-bought helmet and Jawbreaker Knuckles hung from the backpack’s side, clicking together as he walked. The lantern ball he brought was cloudy and almost empty, an old one borrowed from Borlen.

It probably worked for the best that Elian appeared shabbier because Thorren took it upon himself to be in charge of their party of two. Thorren walked ahead, pointing out various plants they passed and explaining which were useful and which were dangerous. He also shared what he heard from hunters about the resident beasts of the area.

“My only goal is the Spectral Fairy Azalea,” Elian said. “Anything else we find or kill is yours.”

“We should split it, my friend,” Thorren said.

Elian smiled, recalling Borlen wanted him to get the bigger share whenever he’d ask for help processing his kill. This time, Thorren expected he’d be the one to land the killing blow and was gracious by offering an even split.

But the Rakhonite shouldn’t be so sure. Elian had a Tribulation ready if needed.

“No, no,” Elian replied. “You help me get the flower. I help you hunt any valuable quarry we come across. We both gain something. All’s fair and fine.”

It wasn’t beasts they came across but people. Two groups of hunters.

The first group was a trio of grumpy old-timers, the type who couldn’t help but look down on those younger. Elian and Thorren being new faces added to their dismissiveness. “Go hunt somewhere else, you smooth-handed boys,” said the burly bear of a man in the lead. “You two aren’t cut out for a real man’s hunt ‘round the Dark Forest.”

“Dun’ stare at me like that.” The second hunter with a scar stretching his smirk to his ear told Thorren. Elian assumed the Rakhonite was on the verge of picking a fight. “We’re lookin’ out for both of ya’ rascals,” said the hunter. “Marchin’ to your deaths without knowin’ it.”

Elian stepped in front of Thorren. “Sirs, we’re not going to interfere with your hunt.”

“Correct, the forest is spacious enough for all of us,” Thorren said with an edge to his voice. “Are you claiming—?”

“What my friend here means,” Elian cut in, “is that we’d appreciate it if you tell us of the dangers ahead. You’re right. We don’t know anything. But if we knew, maybe, just maybe, we’ll turn back.”

The last hunter was the most reasonable of the bunch. “Look here, fellows.” He raised a bandaged arm with yellow pus seeping through the cloth. It stunk worse than bananas left inside a leather bag for a month. And Elian couldn’t even remember what a banana smelled like. “A Mordant-Spitter got me good.” The hunter grimaced. “It wasn’t where it’s supposed to be. Beasts are restless. Unruly. Something’s wrong in the forest.”

“Ya’ll will feel it entering the Dark Forest. Moreso, near the Forbidden Temple, ya’ listenin’ to me? Bu dun’ go there, or anywhere near, if you value your lives. Just do chores at yer house.”

“Whatever it is the priests sealed in that place is projecting its malevolent aura,” continued the third hunter. “Think what Priestess Hazelheart likes to do, yeah? But much worse. Drives the beasts mad. They’re fleeing, spilling out of the Dark Forest over to supposedly safer areas. A good hunting opportunity, for sure. Can also lead to something like this.” He nodded at his bandaged arm.

“A Mordant-Spitter isn’t cause for concern,” Thorren said, puffing out his chest, “if we won’t allow its saliva to touch us.”

“Really, now?” The first hunter roughly laughed like gurgling gravel. “Maybe a Grumpbeing will be a cause for concern for you, boys. There’s one stomping about. Or a Tahlkor with four arms ready to rip you in four. We’ve also seen tracks of a…”

The hunter proceeded to list fearsome monsters, reminding Elian of his childhood when his mother would enumerate a bunch of adults, most of whom he didn’t know, who’d get supposedly angry if he didn’t eat his vegetables. The other hunters chimed in with their horror stories, trying to convince Elian and Thorren to go with them as they returned to town.

The duo thanked the trio for their information, most of which could be false, and continued with their journey just the same.

“Don’t worry about their words,” Thorren said. “Their intent was to cower us, concocting tall tales. However, the Mordant-Spitter wasn’t a lie. The smell—” He wiped his nose.

“The Grumpbeing might also be true,” Elian said. Gideon had warned him about it. Asking Borlen’s group, they’ve heard rumors about it around the hills. They’d know early if one was approaching. “Those stone monsters with their fear auras might be the trouble those hunters mentioned. That part about the Tahlkor was a lie, though. Too hot a climate for them. Thick fur and layers of blubber—they’ll cook themselves to death in this forest.”

The second group of hunters they met was on the friendlier side.

“Ah, you saw old Scrunchy’s gang up ahead,” said the bald man who had introduced himself as Marlowe after Elian told them about the first group and their warnings. “Don’t take it personally. Just his sandy demeanor, sprinkling his grating grains on people. Won’t listen to my advice to lighten up. But he’s right that monsters move about all wrong these days.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I reckon our kudzun friend changed its residence too,” Frederick, the other hunter, chimed in. He was talking about the vine monster that could grow to an acre in size; the one lurking along the edge of the Forbidden Temple was quite young and small, according to Gideon.

Elian unrolled the map from the floramage. “Is the kudzun no longer here?” He pointed at a circle with some scribbles. I got this from a friend. Might be no longer accurate.”

“Uh, doesn’t look right. You got something to write with?”

Marlowe and Frederick were kind enough to share their knowledge about the goings of the area. Reassuring to hear information directly from those with fresh experience.

“Our goal is somewhere here.” Elian pointed at a cluster of small hills beyond the thick black line that was the southern border of the Forbidden Temple’s wide, spooky influence.

“The hill infested with Solbasks,” Marlowe said.

Elian nodded. “We started our journey late, so either we stop before sunset here—” he referred to the northernmost tip of the Dark Forest “—or enter it, continue for a few hours until we reach this part to camp and rest.”

Marlowe tapped the map. “You’re saying that you’ll enter the Dark Forest at night? Not the brightest idea I’ve heard today.”

“Just a small portion of it,” Elian replied. He turned around to show his bag. “Won’t take long inside—an hour and a half, maybe two hours at most. We’ll stick to the edge. I was thinking we push on tonight, so by tomorrow, we’ll start from here. Another cut through Forbidden Temple this way, and we’ve reached our goal. We’re a bit pressed for time.”

“How ‘bout this then.” Marlowe taught them a shortcut that’d cut their time inside the forbidden area by half—only an hour of travel. It also avoided the kudzun’s territory. “There’s a waterfall on this spot not shown on your map. It’s a short climb down. Just slippery. Cross the stream below, and you’ll breathe lightly again, free from the pressure of the monster inside Forbidden Temple.”

“A monster?” Elian asked. “The priests are guarding a monster there?”

“Rumors. Just rumors. Anywho, use the one hour we saved you to put some distance from the Dark Forest’s edge before setting up camp. Have a peaceful night’s sleep then.”

“We are thankful for your guidance,” Thorren said, clasping his hands and bowing. Elian followed his lead, awkwardly clanking his helmet and gauntlets as he bowed. Thorren added, “If ever you’ll be in need of help, don’t hesitate to approach us so we can repay you.”

“We’re asking for none of that, friend,” Frederick said. “We just want to sleep tightly, knowing we’ve made your trip safer. Sleep is good. And we don’t want to be questioned about missing people in this forest.”

An hour of traveling later, the trail faded to the rocks and greenery. Half an hour more, Elian and Thorren found themselves hiking over hills. Some beasts lurked on the other sides of thickets and behind trees, but none approached. The animals had better things to do than bother the dangerous bipedal creatures intruding on their lands.

“This must be the start of what many refer to as the Dark Forest,” Thorren said, slowing his pace after yet another hour of travel to gaze up at the canopies of trees.

“It's pretty dark, alright,” Elian said. Another hour to sunset, but it was almost nighttime in the depths of the forest. “Something’s wrong with these trees.”

Ancient trees towered, each boasting an impressive pillar of a trunk. They oddly grew close to each other. Too close. Navigating through them was like getting lost in a maze. Their gnarled roots, crowded and entangled, were pushed out of the soil. Looking high above, the branches of the trees were entwined instead of staying apart. Their crowns of leaves merged into one expansive roof, preventing most of the sunlight from reaching the dried leaves on the forest floor. These were different species of trees, making their merging habits even more bizarre.

This shouldn’t be. Trees competed for sunlight and nutrients from the ground. As they grew, they’d starve weaker plants around them, including other trees, capturing most of the sunlight with their height and spread of leaves while using their wider and deeper roots to hog the soil nutrients.

“Must the effect of the secret inside the Forbidden Temple.” Elian clambered over a staircase of gigantic roots. His theory was it could either be an ancient artifact from the cat people or could be another hand of the Hundred-Armed Magistrate. “And it’s going to remain a secret because we won’t go near that place.”

The actual ruins of the Forbidden Temple were about a three-hour hike from where they were. Sticking to the edge, they were giving it a very wide berth.

“The thrill of the unknown beckons,” Thorren said. “However, I have promised my cousins to avoid the dire place. Even discounting such an oath, I’d rather not risk getting caught by a priest. Lots of money bags with my name await me at the Stage of Devotion.”

Expecting the worst, Elian wore his helmet and Jawbreaker Knuckles. He wouldn’t be breaking any jaws, but he was ready to meet any physical threat. Magical danger was a bit woozy.

But nothing happened while they followed the way taught by Marlowe and Frederick. They descended the waterfall—the stones were indeed slippery—and refilled their waterskins in the stream below. The trees respected each other’s personal space again, and the canopies receded to reveal the mild pink of the setting sun.

Would you look at that, something went right with no twists. If this kept up, they’d reach their camping spot in an hour and would have plenty of time to cook rather than eat dried meat. Thorren suddenly crouched

“What is it?” Elian asked.

Thorren ran his hand over tracks on the ground. Pawprints. “Fresh ones. A jarlion. It’s nearby.”

Again? Couldn’t be something else? Calling for beasts without magic damage-type skills to attack them.

Thorren pointed at Elian’s knuckle weapons. “Are you going to punch it to death?”

“I’ll tackle it for you to kill. I’m more than tough enough to give a jarlion a big hug. Just shoot its mouth when it gathers Aether. Defending against magic isn’t my strong suit. You can do that, right?”

“Should not be an issue,” Thorren said. “We follow your plan. I trust your words.”

Thorren showed off his tracking skills, quickly picking a path where there was none. Elian could only notice some of the signs where the jarlion had passed. It was like watching a magician perform sleight-of-hand magic tricks—you know what he’s doing but just can’t catch the actual trick.

The jarlion might’ve caught on it was being followed because it veered to an area with sparser vegetation. Thorren kept muttering that it was near, but Elian couldn’t see. The jarlion’s mottled purple fur worked well to camouflage it in the dim light and shadows.

Elian gathered Aether to his eyes. His sight became a jumble of blinding light and absolute dark spots as he experimented with controlling Aether lines to have a semblance of Aethersight. Through the mess of life forces and energies given off by the plants, he saw a large blob that didn’t belong.

“To the right, beyond those two toppled pillars.” Elian dissipated the Aether in his eyes before they could burst any veins.

Thorren had already notched an arrow in his bow, chanting words to activate Rakhonite magic. A dark reddish light traced the runes on his armor. He raised his bow. The arrowhead sizzled orange.

“I’m probably not needed here,” Elian said as they reached the pillars adorned with carvings of the cat people. “Let me go first.”

He rounded the pillars and found himself at the edge of the small clearing. Opposite them was the jarlion, mouth open, already charging up its beam too far for a tackle. He immediately gathered Aether for constructs to distract the jarlion. Though he probably didn’t need to do it.

“It’s mine,” Thorren whispered, aiming with his bow.

An earthshaking roar stopped the world.

It literally made Elian’s bones tremble, and his heart palpitate wildly. He couldn’t move. The jarlion clamped its mouth shut, Aether vapor going out its nose as it let out a small whimper. The racket of animals in the forest fell silent.

A Grumpbeing! What was it doing this far from the Dark Forest?