The forest stood in eerie silence, the whisper of the wind weaving through skeletal branches like a mournful song. Osiris crouched beside a dying fire, its embers flickering weakly against the encroaching darkness. In his massive hand, he held a pendant. Its surface was carved with grooves worn smooth by years of touch, the delicate piece dwarfed by his monstrous grip.
“She would have told you to stop sulking,” a voice broke the silence from across the camp.
Aries, barely a teenager, sat on a fallen log with his arms crossed. His hair was matted with dirt, and his face bore the stubborn defiance of youth. Yet his eyes—so much like Osiris’s—betrayed a flicker of sorrow he couldn’t hide.
Osiris glanced at the boy, his lips curling into the faintest ghost of a smile. “And you think you know what your mother would say?”
Aries shrugged, his tone equal parts defiance and melancholy. “She’d say, ‘Osiris, get up. The dead don’t need your tears, but the living need your strength.’ Isn’t that what you always told me she said?”
The words struck deeper than the boy could have imagined. Osiris placed the pendant back around his neck and rose, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the dim firelight.
“She did say that,” he admitted, his voice heavy with unspoken grief. “But saying it and living it are two different things.”
Aries stood as well, his posture mirroring his father’s, brimming with stubborn resolve. “I’m not a child anymore, Father. You can’t protect me from the truth. I’ve seen the things you’ve tried to hide—the marks on your chest, the way you wince when the Gate burns you. Whatever burden you carry, I’m ready to share it.”
Osiris’s gaze softened, but his tone remained firm. “You think you’re ready? You don’t know what you’re asking for, Aries. The truth isn’t a gift—it’s a curse. It will tear you apart before it makes you stronger, if it even lets you live.”
Aries stepped closer, his fists clenched. “Then teach me! Train me! I’m not afraid to die if it means I can protect what little we have left. You’re always talking about the Tribe of Silis, about our legacy. Well, isn’t it time I became a part of it?”
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Osiris turned away, his broad shoulders tense with the weight of the conversation. His gaze lifted to the crimson-tinged sky, where clouds twisted like specters in the fading light.
“Do you remember when your mother would sing, Aries? Her voice was like the first light after a long night.”
“Yeah… I miss that. I miss her.”
Osiris paused, his voice softening. “She believed you could bring light to this world too. Never forget that. She thought we could escape this cycle, that we could find a way to break the curse without losing more lives. I wanted to believe her… but this world doesn’t care for hope. It crushes it under its heel.”
Aries’s voice softened, his determination unwavering. “But you believed in her, didn’t you?”
Osiris nodded, his hand brushing against the Gate etched into his chest. “Every day of my life. And I believe in you, Aries. But belief isn’t enough. If you want to walk this path, you’ll need to be stronger than I ever was.”
“I will be,” Aries said, his voice steady and firm.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the distant howl of a beast. Both father and son instinctively reached for their weapons—Osiris for his jagged blade, Aries for the makeshift spear he had painstakingly crafted from scavenged parts.
“Then let’s begin,” Osiris said, his voice cold and resolute. “No more words. Show me you’re ready.”
Aries nodded, his eyes alight with determination.
Time flowed like a river, and in the blink of an eye, three months were gone.
During this time, Aries was subjected to grueling daily endurance training, his limits tested and broken repeatedly. Yet, physical trials were only part of the ordeal. He also faced “The Hunter Test,” an ancient rite of passage in the Tribe of Silas. This test was more than just a challenge; it was a legacy, a comprehensive assessment of survival and strategy, refined through countless generations.
The test was divided into two primary disciplines: “Survival Arts” and “Resource Harvesting”—the foundation upon which every warrior’s skillset was built.
“Survival Arts” alone was a vast undertaking, subdivided into four critical components: water, shelter, access to food, and subsistence. Each component demanded mastery, requiring the aspirant to adapt and innovate in the harshest of conditions.
The “Water Source” course came first. It drilled into Aries the art of locating water in the most unforgiving terrains. The course was divided into four primary environments: jungle, desert, mountain, and swamp. The jungle, with its dense foliage and abundant flora, seemed the most forgiving on the surface. But survival was never as simple as it appeared. Hidden predators prowled among the shadows, their presence a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in the wild.
The lessons weren’t just about finding water; they were about survival itself. Aries learned to identify faint traces of moisture in the air, the subtle cues of plant life, and the distant cries of animals that often betrayed the presence of water. Equally critical were the techniques to avoid becoming prey while seeking this life-giving resource.
The jungle, though rich in resources, demanded vigilance. A single misstep could lead to a predator’s jaws or a venomous sting. The teachings of the “Survival Arts” course were as much about what to seek as they were about what to evade.
Each day of training left Aries battered and weary, yet he endured, his resolve hardening like tempered steel. The Hunter Test was not merely a trial of skill but a crucible of spirit, shaping him into the warrior the Tribe of Silas demanded.