The morning light barely pierced through the dense canopy of trees as the haunting silence of the jungle swallowed the small cabin nestled deep within the wilderness. Far from civilization, in a corner of the southern state of India, there was no village nearby. Only thick, unforgiving jungle surrounded the cabin, its towering trees pressing in on every side like silent, watchful guardians. The air was dense, humid, and the earth seemed to hum with a life of its own. It felt alive, heavy, as if the jungle itself was breathing.

Inside the cabin, a low, crackling fire cast flickering shadows on the walls, barely illuminating the old wooden beams that held the house together. The smell of something metallic, something iron-like, hung thick in the air. The room was dim, the only source of light coming from a few flickering oil lamps that cast eerie, wavering shadows on the walls. Snake skins hung as curtains, shimmering unnaturally when light touched them, their glossy texture rippling, making the walls seem alive.

Resha, a 14-year-old girl with long, dark hair and sharp, haunting eyes, slowly awoke to the dim glow of the morning. The cabin was always cold, no matter how much the fire burned. It was as if the house itself carried an unspoken, ominous energy, a secret that refused to be known. Resha stretched and shivered slightly under her blanket — a blanket made from the thick, coarse fur of a ferocious animal she never dared to question. The scent of wild blood still clung to it, a reminder of her family's unspoken ties to the jungle. The fur was heavy, oppressive, almost suffocating, but it was the only warmth in the cabin.

From the corner of the room, the sounds of her father, Arjun, reached her ears. The rhythmic thud of a heavy knife striking meat, the scrape of bone against blade, each strike echoing through the stillness of the cabin.

Resha pushed herself out of bed, the weight of the blanket dragging her down. She swung her feet onto the cold wooden floor, the surface rough against her bare skin. As she stood, her eyes swept over the room. The wooden walls, marked with strange, faded symbols, seemed to pulse in the dim light. Her gaze lingered on the black pot simmering on the wood-fired stove, the steam rising slowly, twisting in the air like something alive.

Her mother, Eera, moved silently through the room, the long braid of her hair swaying as she attended to the fire. Eera's eyes were distant, always far away, as though she was staring through the walls into something far beyond their cabin. It was the kind of look that made Resha feel as if she were being observed from every corner of the room.

“Resha,” Eera’s voice broke through the silence, soft but commanding. “Get up, child. You need to gather wood for the fire. The jungle waits for no one.”

Her voice carried a weight, a firmness that made Resha pause for a moment, the sense of dread gnawing at the pit of her stomach. The fire was already beginning to die down, the glowing embers smoldering beneath a heavy blanket of ash. Resha knew what was expected of her. The woods outside the cabin were theirs to navigate, but the jungle had grown wild, unpredictable, and sometimes deadly.

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

Resha slid into her boots, pulling her thick, animal-skin jacket over her shoulders. She stepped out into the world beyond, the cold, damp air wrapping around her immediately. The jungle was alive with sounds—growls, snaps of branches, and the occasional rustle of something moving through the underbrush. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the jungle itself was watching her every step.

The trees here were unlike any she had seen before. They were massive, twisted beings, their trunks gnarled and twisted, their branches reaching out like long, skeletal fingers. Thick vines dripped from the trees, almost choking the life out of the ground beneath. The path was barely visible, hidden beneath the layers of leaves, moss, and creeping vines. There was something unnerving about the silence that followed each sound, like the jungle was holding its breath, waiting.

Back at the cabin, Arjun continued his grisly work, the knife sinking deeper into the dark meat on the table with each strike. The room was thick with the scent of blood, the rhythm of his cutting steady, methodical. The sight of the black pot on the stove, simmering with an unknown substance, added to the strange atmosphere of the place. The cabin, the family, the jungle — everything was wrapped in a fog of unsettling mystery.

“Be careful,” Eera’s voice floated through the crackling of the fire. “The jungle has been restless. There are things in the shadows, things we don’t fully understand. The land has changed.”

Resha hesitated for a moment. The air around her seemed to hum with something dark, a tension she couldn’t ignore. The jungle had always been their protector, their source of life and sustenance. But lately, something had shifted. The once-comforting sounds of nature now seemed to be laced with warning. Every movement in the underbrush felt like a threat. Every whisper of wind carried with it a sense of danger.

As Resha made her way deeper into the jungle, the darkness pressed in on her from every side. The trees seemed to crowd her path, their twisted limbs almost grasping at her, and the silence was suffocating. Her heart raced, but she pushed forward, gathering the dry sticks and leaves she needed for the fire. But something about the jungle today felt different, as though the very earth beneath her feet was alive, watching.

Back at the cabin, the blood on Arjun’s hands had begun to dry, the knife now resting on the table, a dark sheen of red glistening on its edge. The black pot on the stove bubbled ominously, and Eera stood by the fire, her eyes far away, lost in thought.

Resha stepped back into the cabin, her arms laden with wood. The familiar smell of the jungle, the weight of her mother’s cryptic words, hung heavily in the air. The fire crackled louder now, the shadows growing more pronounced as night approached.

“Do you feel it?” Eera asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

Resha nodded, a chill crawling up her spine. "Yes, mother. Something feels wrong."

The air thickened, the world outside seeming to grow darker by the minute. And Resha knew, deep down, that the jungle had always held its secrets — but now, it was ready to reveal them.