The moment they reached the edge of Nyigong Thicket, an unsettling chill crept into the air. Arav, Dhiran, and Buddhi stood at the threshold, staring into the depths of the forest. The thick, eerie fog blanketing the forest floor seemed alive, swirling lazily as if inviting them in—or warning them to stay out.

“This place…” Dhiran muttered, breaking the silence. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Arav nodded, his blue-grey eyes scanning the twisting trunks and gnarled branches that loomed ahead. “Stick close. This fog isn’t just for show. If the stories are true, it can lead you astray—or worse.”

“Lead you to your doom,” Buddhi added, grinning nervously. He tried to mask his unease with humor, but the ominous weight of the forest made it impossible to ignore.

They stepped into the thicket, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound accompanying their cautious strides. The whispering leaves above seemed alive, sharing secrets that only they could hear.

As they ventured deeper, the air grew colder, and the fog thicker. Then, Buddhi stopped abruptly, pointing ahead.

“Uh, guys… look.”

Scattered across the forest floor were skeletons, their bones bleached white and half-buried under the moss. Among them lay the decomposing remains of cultivators, their once-proud armor tarnished and broken. Weapons rusted in their hands, telling stories of battles fought and lost.

“Dead bodies…” Dhiran whispered, his voice tight.

“Cultivators,” Arav said grimly, stepping closer to examine the remains. “And travelers too. They didn’t make it out.”

Buddhi swallowed hard. “Maybe we should—”

“We stick together,” Arav interrupted, his tone firm. “Keep your eyes open. No wandering off.”

They nodded in agreement, their earlier camaraderie replaced with a tense silence.

After a while, the forest seemed to shift. The rustling leaves grew quieter, replaced by the faint sound of footsteps—none of which belonged to them.

“Did you hear that?” Dhiran asked, his hand instinctively moving toward his weapon.

Before anyone could respond, a faint shimmer of moonlight caught Arav’s eye. He froze, his breath hitching as he focused on the source.

A majestic creature emerged from the shadows, its coat shimmering like liquid moonlight. It moved with the grace of a predator and the elegance of a guardian.

“Nyima…” Arav whispered under his breath.

“What?” Dhiran asked, looking around. “What do you see?”

“It’s here,” Arav said, his voice barely above a whisper. “A Nyima. A large feline with a coat that reflects the moon. It’s watching us.”

“I don’t see anything,” Dhiran said, frowning. “Buddhi, do you—”

“See what?” Buddhi interrupted, already a few steps ahead of them.

Arav’s stomach churned. Only those pure of heart could see a Nyima, and it seemed he was the only one. He locked eyes with the creature, feeling an unspoken understanding pass between them. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the Nyima vanished into the fog.

“Buddhi!” Arav called out, noticing their friend was wandering further away.

“Relax,” Buddhi replied, waving them off. “You two are paranoid. It’s just fog and shadows. Don’t let the legends get to your—”

“Stay close!” Arav snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

Dhiran nodded in agreement. “We’ve seen enough here to know the stories might not be just stories. Stop acting like we’re in some playground.”

“Fine, fine,” Buddhi muttered, though his tone was dismissive.

They continued walking, their steps cautious and deliberate. The air grew heavier, and the shadows seemed to stretch further, as if alive.

Then, Arav stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. “Wait… where’s Buddhi?”

Dhiran turned, his face paling as he scanned the foggy path behind them. There was no sign of their friend.

“Buddhi?” Arav called out, his voice echoing eerily in the oppressive silence.

The forest didn’t answer.

Arav and Dhiran ran through the fog, their voices echoing through the eerie silence as they called for Buddhi. Each step felt heavier, as if the forest was pressing down on them, watching their every move.

“Buddhi! Where are you?” Dhiran shouted, his voice tinged with frustration and fear.

Arav, panting, glanced at the twisted trees around them. “This isn’t right. He wouldn’t just wander off like this.”

Suddenly, the fog parted slightly, revealing a shimmering light ahead. Both boys froze as the ethereal figure of a Gongma emerged. The spirit deer’s antlers glowed like moonlight, casting faint, dreamlike shadows. Its movements were almost hypnotic, graceful yet otherworldly.

“A Gongma…” Dhiran whispered in awe, his voice barely audible.

Arav’s expression hardened. “The stories say it reveals the path forward but takes something in return. Memories, emotions—things we might never get back.”

Dhiran shook his head, his eyes locked on the creature. “It’s guiding us. It has to be leading us to Buddhi.”

Before Arav could reply, the distant call of a Pohu broke through the silence. The sound was haunting, like a melody woven from sorrow and forewarning. The black bird appeared, perched on a gnarled branch, its ember-like eyes glowing in the dim light.

“Dhiran,” Arav said sharply, grabbing his friend’s arm. “That’s a Pohu. Its call is a warning. If it’s here, following the Gongma might not be a good idea.”

Dhiran hesitated, his gaze darting between the deer and the bird. “You’re saying we should just ignore the Gongma? It’s our only lead!”

“I’m saying we need to think. What if this is a trap? The forest isn’t exactly known for being kind to wanderers,” Arav countered, his voice steady but firm.

The fog around them seemed to pulse, swirling as if alive. The Gongma took a few more steps forward, its luminous antlers almost beckoning them to follow. Meanwhile, the Pohu let out another chilling cry, its glowing eyes fixed on the boys.

Dhiran clenched his fists. “We don’t have time to debate. Buddhi could be in danger!”

“And running headfirst into the unknown could put all of us in danger!” Arav shot back.

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The tension between them hung thick in the air. The forest seemed to hum, as though it were feeding off their indecision.

Finally, Dhiran took a step forward. “I’m following it, Arav. I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

Arav sighed, his resolve wavering. “Fine. But we stay together. If this goes wrong, we’re both getting out—no matter what.”

The two started following the Gongma, its glowing antlers leading them deeper into the thicket. The fog curled around their legs, almost as if it were guiding them too—or trying to trap them.

But the call of the Pohu lingered in Arav’s mind, its mournful melody echoing like a warning that refused to be ignored.

Arav and Dhiran moved cautiously through the dense fog, the Gongma leading them with its shimmering antlers lighting the way. The air felt thick, pressing against their skin like a warning.

“You feel that, too, right?” Arav whispered, each step echoing louder in the eerie silence.

Dhiran nodded, eyes fixed ahead. “Yeah, but we have to keep moving. We’re close. I can feel it.”

Arav wasn’t so sure. The forest felt alive, shifting beneath them with each step. Something ancient and watchful seemed to linger in the mist. “This fog... it’s like it’s alive,” he muttered.

The fog swirled around them, thickening as they moved forward. The twisted trees loomed over them, their gnarled branches almost watching. Arav’s heart skipped as faint glowing lights appeared ahead, flickering between the trees.

“Do you see that?” Arav’s voice was tight with apprehension.

Dhiran finally glanced over, his expression darkening. “I... don’t think we should follow them. You know the stories, right?”

Arav nodded, feeling the pull of the lights, as if they were calling him. “I don’t know, man. I don’t trust this. We should turn back.”

Before Dhiran could answer, the Gongma vanished into the mist.

“What the—?” Arav’s voice cut through the silence. “Where’d it go?”

Dhiran froze, scanning the fog. “It just disappeared. How?”

Panic rising, Arav turned in a circle. The lights danced in the distance, and the fog closed in, almost suffocating.

“We should go,” Arav said urgently. “This isn’t right.”

But Dhiran was gone.

“Dhiran?” Arav called out, his voice strained with panic. Only silence answered back. His chest tightened with dread.

He stood still for a moment, listening to the oppressive quiet. No answers came, just the sound of his own frantic breathing. He had to keep moving. He couldn’t afford to stand here and wait to disappear like Dhiran.

Without thinking, he started walking again, trying to ignore the cold knot in his stomach. He needed to find Dhiran, and he needed to do it fast.

The will-o’-the-wisps flickered ahead, their glow leading him forward. For a moment, it felt like they were beckoning him deeper into the forest.

But something inside him knew he had to be careful. This wasn’t the way out.

As he walked, Arav suddenly saw something—a flicker in the distance.

A Pohu.

It watched him, its eyes glowing with an eerie red light. Arav stopped dead in his tracks, gut twisting. This wasn’t good.

The bird’s haunting call resonated deep within him. The forest was alive, trying to tell him something.

“No, we need to turn back,” he whispered to himself.

But as he turned, the will-o’-the-wisp flickered closer. He had no choice but to follow. Each step felt heavier, the fog pressing harder, as if it were pushing him toward the lights.

He clenched his fists, forcing down the fear.

Dhiran and Buddhi were gone, and he was all alone.

The will-o’-the-wisp flickered once more, leading the way.

Arav followed, against every instinct telling him to stop. He had to find Dhiran. He had to make sure they were still in control of this journey.

But as the fog closed in, and the eerie call of the Pohu echoed, Arav couldn't shake the feeling that this path was leading to something far worse than he could imagine.

The forest was alive. But it was not kind.

And Arav realized that in this place, nothing was certain.

Arav’s footsteps echoed through the dense fog as he frantically searched for Dhiran and Buddhi. Each breath felt heavier, sinking into the mist like a weight. The forest seemed to mock him, its whispers taunting with every step, as if the trees were closing in.

He pushed through, heart pounding, until the fog parted slightly, revealing a clearing. This place was unlike any he had seen, thick with an unnatural stillness.

He stood at the edge of a vast, shadowy lake—more like an ocean. Its surface shimmered faintly, feeling ominously deep, stretching into the unknown. Arav squinted, trying to understand what lay ahead. There were no reflections, no signs of life, only an overwhelming emptiness.

His eyes darted across the water, searching for movement, but the lake was as still as the forest around him. The kind of stillness that made the air suffocating.

Arav stepped forward cautiously, his boots sinking into the damp earth. Each step felt heavier, like the forest itself was holding him back. The mist twisted in eerie spirals, swirling around him, almost alive, beckoning him closer.

The silence was unbearable—not just the absence of sound, but an oppressive quiet pressing against his chest. The only break was a soft ripple on the lake, coming from nowhere.

He stopped, eyes wide.

Ripples.

The water shifted. Something had disturbed it.

Arav’s heart skipped a beat as he peered closer. He felt the shift in the atmosphere, the weight of the moment seeping into his bones. A chill ran down his spine as the ripples grew larger, the water moving deliberately. He couldn’t see what caused them, but he could feel it—a massive, ancient presence watching him.

He stepped back, breath quickening. His mind raced. He knew the legends, the stories told around campfires by the Mishmi tribes.

The Buru.

A giant serpent said to dwell in hidden lakes, revealing its presence through ripples and an unsettling silence when near.

Arav’s gaze flicked back to the lake, pulse pounding. The ripples stopped, and the silence deepened. The air felt colder now, biting at his skin.

Then he saw it.

A massive shadow moved beneath the surface. Its shape was unmistakable. The water parted for something immense, terrifying. The creature beneath the lake was vaster than anything Arav had ever imagined.

Arav instinctively stepped back, eyes wide with awe and terror. The Buru had surfaced, lingering just below the water, its form invisible except for the ripples. Arav’s heart pounded. It wasn’t just the lake watching him; the Buru’s presence surrounded him.

His feet felt rooted. The world narrowed, the noise of his thoughts drowned by silence. His heart raced as he looked down, trying to understand. All he saw were ripples and shadows—so many shadows.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the ripples stopped.

The water returned to its unnerving stillness.

Arav's breath caught. He knew he had seen something. The Buru was real. He had felt its presence, its ancient energy. His eyes darted to the water's edge again, but there was nothing. No more ripples, no movement. Just the thick fog and the lake’s surface, now eerily still.

Arav’s mind raced. The Buru wasn’t just a legend—it was here, watching him. It was a creature that had lived for a millions of years, maybe longer. And now, it was aware of him.

His hand moved to his blade, but dread stopped him. He wasn’t sure what to do. Could he even fight something like that?

As he stood frozen, the air grew thick with tension. The feeling of being watched wouldn’t leave him. He scanned the shadows, knowing something was waiting.

Then it hit him.

The Buru wasn’t just watching. It was waiting.

Waiting for him to make the next move.

His heart hammered as his senses sharpened, trying to understand what the forest wanted. The forest was full of myths, spirits, and creatures, but the Buru was different. It was part of this place, part of the forest itself.

And it wanted something from him.

Arav swallowed hard, breath shaky. He needed to find Dhiran and Buddhi. He needed to escape this cursed place. But he knew, deep down, that whatever lurked beneath the lake, whatever was watching him, would not let them leave easily.

Arav's heart pounded in his chest, panic gripping him. Fear clouded his usually sharp mind. His eyes were locked on the shadowy lake, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Dhiran and Buddhi were there.

Their bodies floated motionlessly on the water, barely visible through the mist. It didn’t seem real. Arav couldn’t tell if they were even breathing. Dread twisted his stomach.

"Dhiran… Buddhi…" he whispered, his voice shaky.

How had they ended up there? Why were they just floating like that?

Arav’s pulse thundered in his ears. Instinct took over, and he used the Void Step, a technique he had practiced for months. Darkness enveloped him, and in an instant, he was beside them.

His hands shook as he pulled them close and used the Void Step again to return to solid ground, away from the lake.

Back on solid ground, he checked their pulses—faint but present. They were alive, but just barely. Relief was brief.

Why hadn’t the Buru attacked? It could have easily killed him, but it hadn’t. It just watched, waited, and did nothing. Why?

Arav stared at his friends, feeling the weight of the forest pressing in. The Buru had let them go. It felt like something was still watching from the lake’s depths.

Was this a test? A game? Or something more sinister?

Arav clenched his fists, heart pounding, as he slowly backed away, careful not to turn his back on the water.

With each step, the sensation of being watched grew stronger. His instincts screamed to run, but he knew if he did, it might be too late.

His hand twitched toward his sword, but fighting seemed impossible against something lurking in the shadows.

As he moved further, he felt a presence behind him, a shadow pressing against his back. He didn’t dare look.

The forest seemed to hold its breath.

The air felt heavier.

Arav’s pulse raced. He wanted to use the Void Step again, to escape, but he froze. His feet felt like lead.

It’s too late, he thought, breath catching.

He knew that if he turned, it would be the end.

Every part of him screamed to leave, but the forest wasn’t done with him.

He didn’t glance back. The presence loomed behind him, the weight of it oppressive—like the Buru but not the same this time was waiting for his next move.

It was watching. Always watching.

And Arav was about to find out why.