Erikson ran until he felt his heart would burst through his chest. High above, hundreds of strands of light from the full moon struggled to pierce the dense jungle canopy. As he raced along the sparsely vegetated ground, a distant shadow danced across the rays of light above. Its movements blocked out the light in a pattern reminiscent of fingers playing on a piano.
Erikson caught sight of the dancing shadow just as he dove behind a tree. Struggling to stifle his breathing, he threw an arm over his stubbled chin. No other animal so much as dared to stir nearby as hot beads of sweat rolled down Erikson's forehead. He peeked over the edge of the tree, watching the shadow continue its silent dance among the strands of light. An ancestral awareness ached in his spine, its message was crystal clear: "Do not move."
The shadow passed overhead, and a branch in the distance snapped. Erikson watched it fall to the canopy floor, his eyes wide with fear. Three months, 14 days, and approximately 22 hours had passed since he began his desperate struggle for survival in the dangerous wilderness of Cambria. His expedition had gone horribly wrong when the other three members of his Guild appointed party vanished.
The Guild, a corporation with a monopoly over trade in Cambria, had organized his expedition with the aim of expanding its markets deep into the continent. The Guild sought to unearth valuable materials for trade among the Ring of Nations on the other side of the world, the Old World. While spices, ore, and crops were common commodities shipped for trade, the most lucrative items concerned were all manner derived from monsters: Alive for war, dead for materials, or somewhere in between for other sordid reasons. But by far the most coveted items that made the Guild famous the world over were the masks found within, gathered from deep inside the continent's interior.
Ironically, Erikson's mission was to search for another missing expedition force sent by the Guild to investigate dubious reports of a new cache of masks discovered deep within the interior. The reports came from the inhabitants of the sparsely populated port towns dotted along the coasts of the continent who in turn traded this information with the elusive natives. But the reports were different than normal: The natives described twisted forms resembling humans near the borders of the port settlements. The reports described some humanoids as tall as houses, others the size of mere mice who scurried about the forest floor, while others described forms vaguely human who simply watched idly from afar. A few descriptions of these exotic forms even mixed together seemingly disparate qualities of both human and snake, causing many pilgrims to claim that the Queen Serpent herself had come back from the Shattering to curse the earth. But amongst all the oddities, there was one commonality. All creatures shared the feature of resembling an amalgam of animals and humans in both behavior and appearance. The natives referred to these beings in their mother tongue as remnants of the Forerunner from The Shattering. The most common translation, unapproved by the Guild despite their best efforts at covert suppression, was "Demon" in the common tongue.
The moment of silence after the snapping branch had passed. Relaxing his arm and breathing a sigh of relief, Erikson watched the shadow move farther ahead along the canopy floor. As quietly as possible, he bent down and began recording his observations from earlier that day with charcoal on his leather bound journal. "Human mixed with a falcon… feathers black as pitch… Upon its beak, a human face as white as porcelain. Investigation of ruins for masks and lost party ceased. Adrian and Ozul were both killed in action attempting to fight the creature..." Erickson paused in thought, "the local fauna did not attack it, neither did other Demons. A demon snake woman-"
A branch snapped to Erikson's right in a dense thicket. He looked up without moving his head to see two pairs of cataracted eyes peering back through dense foliage against pitch-black. The face smiled, revealing a set of white fangs in an expression that only distantly resembled elation.
In an instant, cannon replaced journal. Fire erupted from Erikson's last dragon-fire charge, aimed directly between its eyes. The ensuing fire lit up the surrounding jungle, revealing the silhouette of an immense saber cat with a human face in place of the animal's snout. The projectile missed and pierced the top of the canopy in a great arc of purple fire.
In the chaos, Erikson's journal dropped to the ground.
---
High above the jungle canopy, a creature flew through the moonlit sky, observing the odd flash of light as it completed its arc back to the jungle floor. As it continued to burn along the canopy floor setting nearby foliage aflame, it reminded the creature of hot coals glowing through the grates of a furnace. It knew its quarry was inside that furnace.
A sense of satisfaction filled the flying creature's mind. There would be no warning of the impending doom over the continent and those abroad.