Onish continued to absorb the pranic energy from the pearl as they ventured deeper into the dense forest, following winding paths that seemed to twist and turn with a mind of their own. The forest teemed with strange and wondrous life: fiery red wasps buzzing in erratic patterns, leaving trails of ash and sparks; trees heavy with golden fruits that shimmered like miniature suns; creeping vines that seemed almost sentient, slithering toward unsuspecting travelers; and whispering trees whose soft murmurs carried secrets older than time.
The young fowler, however, seemed unperturbed by the forest's oddities. He moved with the confidence of someone who had spent years among these perils. Occasionally, he stopped to listen to the whispering trees or scanned the area with wary eyes. When fiery red wasps darted near, or the vines began to creep too close, he would sprint away with surprising agility, dragging Onish's reluctant parrot form along.
The journey might have been more tolerable, perhaps even fascinating, had the fowler not been a relentless chatterbox. If Onish hadn't witnessed the parrot's soul dissolving into the void, he would have sworn it had possessed the boy. No sane human could possibly talk so much.
The fowler, whom Onish later deduced was no older than fourteen or fifteen, seemed to take immense pride in narrating every trivial detail of his life. He boasted about his harvest, swore repeatedly that he would win the falconry guild's trial, and launched into endless anecdotes about his father, Ronan—whom he described as the greatest falconer of all time. According to the boy, Ronan's legendary feats included enticing a dozen spirit birds in a single trial, leaving the guild awestruck. Three years ago, Ronan had vanished mysteriously, leaving behind only the boy and his mother, who was also a falconer.
"Niro," the boy's voice broke Onish's mental reprieve yet again, "with six spirit birds and ten semi-spirit birds, I'm definitely getting first place! Did I tell you my daddy won first place in his trial? Of course, I did. But you should know he had twelve spirit birds! Imagine that—twelve!"
Onish's aching ears longed for the sweet sound of silence. The boy's incessant rambling was more grating than the fiery red wasps' crackling buzz. Onish was beginning to think the fowler's endless chatter was some form of torture—or perhaps a test of patience.
An hour ago, Onish had nearly managed to escape. Regaining some of his strength and weary from the boy's endless prattling, he had planned to take flight. Just as he was about to act, a sudden wave of dread washed over him. Without even glancing at the source of danger, Onish panicked and flew.
He didn't get far. A sparrow-sized bird, shining an electric blue, swooped down with the speed of a lightning strike. Its sharp talons tore through Onish's feathers, and its shrill, ear-splitting chirps sent waves of pain through his already weakened soul. Disoriented, Onish tried to flee, but the bird moved like a gale, cutting him off with ease.
The bird struck again, its glowing talons slashing through the air. Onish's vision blurred as his control over the parrot's body faltered. The blue bird's piercing cries attacked his consciousness directly, as though stabbing into the very essence of his being. With a feeble flap of his wings, Onish plummeted to the forest floor.
He braced himself for death, preparing to abandon the parrot's body and flee. But the fatal blow never came. Instead, he felt warm hands gently cradle his battered form. Blinking weakly, he saw the boy's tear-streaked face.
Guha's red-rimmed eyes burned with a mix of rage and relief. "Niro! You're alive!" he whispered before turning his attention to the blue bird, now struggling in a glowing net that tightened around it like a trap woven from light.
The bird screeched and flailed, its talons gleaming like steel blades, but the net held firm. Guha's eyes scanned the forest, and he shouted, "Come out, Viruch! I know you're here. No point in hiding!"
A tense silence followed. Then, a haughty voice rang out, "You wouldn't dare harm my Blue Pearl." A boy with dark green eyes and a square face stepped out from behind a thick tree. He carried a net over one shoulder and a silvery pouch at his waist.
"Viruch," Guha thundered, "if your bird attacks Niro again, I swear I'll kill it—trial be damned!"
Viruch smirked, unfazed. "Calm down, Guha. I just wanted to appraise your pretty guardian bird. But I'll admit, it's disappointing. Why would you choose that over a yama hawk?"
Guha's eyes blazed. "What I choose is none of your business. Tell your bootlicker dad to stop snooping around about my father. He'll never surpass Ronan."
Viruch's smirk faltered, but he remained composed. "Let's not get personal, Guha. Release Blue Pearl, and I'll leave Niro alone. Deal?"
Guha hesitated but eventually relented. With a flick of his hand, he dispelled the net. The blue bird flew back to Viruch, chirping pitifully.
As Guha walked away, Onish stole a glance at Viruch, whose triumphant smile sent a chill through him. There was something familiar about the boy's aura, something unsettling.
By the time they reached the forest's edge, the sky had turned a dusky red. Guha and Onish joined the other contestants—boys and girls, each with a black net over their shoulders, a silvery pouch tied at their waists, and a guardian bird perched proudly on their shoulders.
Some nodded at Guha in acknowledgment, while others ignored him. Many bore scratches and bruises; even their spirit birds looked worse for wear. Despite this, a sense of anticipation crackled in the air.
Then, the tower came into view. It was a colossal structure, its soaring spires studded with countless windows. Hundreds of spirit birds circled above, their dazzling forms casting iridescent shadows over the ground. Fire-breathing birds with obsidian scales and crystal-coated birds exhaling frosty clouds performed aerial displays. Some birds flickered in and out of sight, their forms vanishing like mirages.
Onish gawked in amazement, his parrot beak agape. The sheer majesty of the spirit birds left him breathless. Had Guha noticed his parrot's odd expression, he might have suspected something. But the boy was just as mesmerized, his eyes fixed on the skies.
A middle-aged man clad in a blue cloak stood on a raised platform by the tower gate. Perched on his shoulder was a tiny, radiant bird. As the man cleared his throat, the bird fluttered its colorful feathers. The sound that followed hushed the crowd instantly, drawing every eye to the man.
"Welcome, contestants," the man began, his voice warm and resonant. "I am Kausha, a two-star falconer of the Falconry Guild of Minaak. It is my honor to oversee this year's trial. I know you're all tired, so I'll keep this brief. Submit your spatial pouches to our apprentices, and we'll announce the results shortly. Keep Ogun's nets as a token from the guild."
The apprentices, clad in green cloaks, stood behind long tables with golden jars atop them. Contestants lined up to hand over their pouches. As each apprentice held a mirror to the contestant's face, the mirrors glowed, revealing the spirit birds they had encountered.
Guha waited nervously in line, stroking Onish absentmindedly. Though he didn't speak, his tension was palpable. Onish, perched on his shoulder, could sense the weight of unspoken thoughts. The boy's determination was a tangible force, and Onish realized that for Guha, this trial was more than a competition. It was a chance to honor his father's legacy—and perhaps uncover truths buried in the shadows of the Nimara woods.