In the heart of the gray, shadowed forest, Leon led the group forward, his hand gripping a radiant spiritual lamp that cut through the darkness like a beacon. The pale glow from the soul-light inside its wooden cage drove away the gloom that seemed to cling to every tree and stone, bringing life back to the dull, lifeless surroundings. Where the light touched, the world regained its true form, a flash of vibrant leaves, the glint of wet stones, but behind them, the gray crept back like a silent tide, swallowing their path as they moved ahead.
Leon had come to understand that this cursed land was more than it appeared. The girl's voice had warned them about the confusion of time and space, but it wasn't until he held the Earth Spirit Lamp that he fully grasped the extent of what she meant.
Each time they walked straight ahead, following the glow, the light would occasionally flicker and dim, as though unsure of their path. Whenever this happened, Leon would stop, raising the lamp to scan the area. The strangest part was that the brightest point, where the soul in the lamp seemed to guide them, was not always where it seemed. Sometimes, the way forward wasn't forward at all.
"Left... no, wait... back a little," Leon muttered, trying to focus. At times, the light directed them sideways, or even behind them, completely contradicting what their instincts told them. It was as if the forest itself was playing tricks on them, twisting the very fabric of reality. They had to fight against their natural sense of direction, trusting only the lamp's guidance.
It wasn't that the destination changed, Leon realized, but rather the very ground beneath their feet. Time and space here were like a swirling vortex of chaos, constantly shifting and distorting, much like mixing paints in a bucket, colors merging and breaking apart with no clear order.
Now he understood why the legend said no one could escape the "cursed land." A sigh escaped Leon as he paused, staring at the spirit lamp, its light flickering uncertainly. No matter which way he turned, the lamp's glow seemed unstable, switching from bright to dim in erratic bursts.
"We wait," Leon said quietly, recalling the girl's advice. Rushing ahead in these moments only led to more confusion, causing them to drift further off course. It was better to stay still until the light steadied, signaling that the chaotic swirl of time and space had calmed enough to proceed.
When the lamp's glow eventually stabilized, Leon signaled to the others, and they resumed their journey. His sword rang out with a metallic hiss as he swung it through the thick underbrush, slicing through the dense thorns that blocked their path. Detours were dangerous in this place, likely to send them in circles. They had no choice but to force their way through, no matter how difficult the terrain.
Their trek was relentless, but mercifully, the forest's inhabitants posed little threat. There were only a few wild beasts and the occasional human zombie, creatures long lost to the land's curse. Although these ghouls were menacing in appearance, Leon, along with his two companions, was well-prepared. The group fought with precision, their weapons flashing in the dim light. The sharp edge of Leon's knightly sword cleaved through zombies as effortlessly as one might slice a vegetable.
They moved in silence, uncertain of how much time had passed in this forsaken realm. Minutes felt like hours, and hours like days. But then, cutting through the quiet, a haunting sound rose from the depths of the forest ahead, a mournful wail, filled with pain and sorrow.
The group froze.
"What is that?" one of them whispered, eyes wide with dread.
Leon held the spirit lamp higher, its light wavering slightly in the breeze. Whatever lay ahead, they were no longer alone in this twisted place.
Brandon and Liam, following closely behind Leon, tensed immediately. Their senses sharpened, muscles coiling with readiness. The sound that reached their ears was unnerving, sharp and piercing like an eagle's cry, but deep and resonant, almost like the roar of a lion or a tiger. Whatever made that sound had to be a dangerous creature.
"What kind of undead beast could this be?" Liam whispered, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter.
Leon, swallowing the sudden rise of nerves, cautiously moved forward. His heart pounded as he parted the dense branches, their leaves rustling faintly in the stillness of the forest. The eerie quiet that followed only made his breath catch in his throat. Slowly, he peered through the thicket, expecting to find yet another grotesque undead or some monstrous abomination. But what he saw stopped him cold.
It wasn't the undead.
Not far ahead, lying in a crimson pool of its own blood, was a massive creature. It was not dead, but dying, its anguished howls filling the air. This was the first living beast the three of them had encountered in this cursed land.
Leon's eyes widened as he took in the creature's form. It was enormous, with the body, limbs, and tail of a lion, but two great wings sprouted from its shoulders, one drooping helplessly, while the other flapped weakly, stirring up gusts of wind. Brown feathers, once majestic, were matted with blood and dirt, staining the creature's fur. Its wounds told a story of fierce battle, not of death's inevitability.
When Leon's gaze shifted to its head, an eagle-like visage with a hooked beak, he knew immediately what it was. He didn't need the memories of the body he inhabited to recognize it. From Earth's legends or this world's lore, the word came to him effortlessly.
"A griffin," he whispered under his breath.
But this was no mighty griffin of legend, with ferocious grace and regal bearing. This one was battered and broken, lying in utter defeat. Beneath its massive frame were the splintered remains of trees, likely crushed when the beast plummeted from the sky. But the fall was not the worst of its injuries. Leon's eyes were drawn to the thick, iron shaft of a crossbow bolt lodged deep in its chest and abdomen. The arrowhead was grotesquely large, a weapon built to bring down creatures of myth. Blood continued to ooze from the wound, forming a thick, dark pool on the ground beneath the griffin.
Brandon and Liam crept up beside Leon, their faces a mix of awe and shock.
"Should we take a detour?" Brandon asked, his voice steady, though the sight clearly disturbed him. After facing so many horrific creatures and monstrous foes, he had grown numb to surprises. Still, this griffin, a creature of noble myth, struck him differently.
"It's barely holding on," Liam observed quietly, his eyes lingering on the grievous wound. Sympathy flickered in his voice as he took in the griffin's pitiful state. "Whoever did this... it's unforgivable."
Brandon's brow furrowed as he glanced at the massive crossbow bolt. "This isn't the work of some mindless creature or wild beast," he muttered. "Only intelligent hands could have used a weapon like this. Whoever shot that bolt knew exactly what they were doing." His voice darkened with disgust. "This was a deliberate act."
The boy's words carried a weight of reverence. To the Serrians, the griffin wasn't just another animal. It was a symbol of purity, nobility, and divinity. In their faith, the Holy Sun Church spoke of griffins as sacred creatures, often gracing them with an almost god-like status. Stories sung by the clergy told of griffins as protectors, guardians of the skies, who rarely attacked humans unless provoked. It was said that griffins, nesting high in the cliffs and mountains, kept watch over the land from above, a noble presence that could never be mistaken for a mere predator.
To harm such a creature was not only a crime but a blasphemy. Kingdom laws even forbade it. And yet, here it lay, wounded, brought low by cruel hands.
"Who would dare?" Liam whispered, shaking his head.
Brandon's gaze remained fixed on the griffin, his mind wrestling with the questions of what had driven someone to commit such an atrocity. Did the beast wander here by mistake, or had it been hunted down after entering this cursed land? Regardless, the damage was done. The proud, legendary beast had been reduced to a pitiful shadow of itself.
Leon tightened his grip on the spirit lamp. "We can't just leave it like this," he said, a determined edge to his voice.
The others looked at him, uncertain.
Leon's mind raced. This griffin was more than just a wounded creature. Its presence here might be a sign, a clue to the twisted forces at play in this cursed realm. Or perhaps, it was just another victim, like themselves, caught in the tangled web of time and space. Either way, abandoning it felt wrong. They had encountered death and the undead in so many forms, but this was different.
"If we're going to survive this place," Leon said, "maybe we need more than just our weapons. Maybe... we need allies."
Brandon and Liam exchanged glances, the weight of the decision settling on them all.
They were far from the Kingdom of Serrian now, deep in lands unknown, where the rules and reverence for creatures like griffins might be different. Brandon's thoughts churned as he looked at the dying beast with a heavy heart. In Serrian, griffins were revered, nearly sacred, but who knew how the people of Kantadar or Orland saw them? Perhaps griffins were nothing more than prey or pests in these lands. Sighing, he reluctantly tore his gaze away from the majestic creature, a mix of regret and sorrow weighing on his chest.
"We should move on," Leon said, his tone pragmatic. "It's too weak to be a threat. Let's just keep our distance."
Unlike Brandon and Liam, who seemed visibly shaken by the griffin's condition, Leon remained practical. To him, the griffin, though tragic, was no longer dangerous. Its pitiful state rendered it harmless, and lingering here only increased their own risks. Without wasting another moment, he stepped carefully around the dying creature, taking the lead and signaling for the others to follow.
Brandon and Liam hesitated, casting one last glance at the griffin before reluctantly trailing behind Leon. The beast, lying in its pool of blood, continued to gasp and groan, its massive claws scraping weakly at the dirt, leaving deep, painful furrows in the ground. Every movement seemed agonizing as it tried, in vain, to cling to life.
As they moved away, the griffin's sharp senses detected them, even in its weakened state. Its powerful instincts flared—humans. Were they the ones who had hunted it down, who had driven the crossbow bolt deep into its chest? Desperation surged within the griffin, and it attempted to rise, fear and pain coursing through its body. But the wounds were too much. The moment it tried to stand, the agony overwhelmed it, and it collapsed back to the ground with a heavy thud.
The sound startled Leon, Brandon, and Liam. They spun around, weapons ready, only to see the griffin lying there, defeated, unable to rise.
"It's just trying to stand," Brandon whispered, his face pale.
"Let's not wait for it to try again. Move!" Leon urged, pushing forward with renewed urgency. But as he quickened his pace, eager to leave the dying creature behind, a voice echoed in his mind, soft yet clear.
"You'd better help it."
Leon froze mid-step, his heart skipping a beat. He glanced around, but there was no one nearby except his companions. Confused, he whispered aloud, "Help it? You mean... the griffin?"
His eyes darted back to the wounded creature, its labored breathing growing weaker with each passing moment. He hesitated, gripping his sword, the thought of ending its suffering crossing his mind. "Do you want me to... put it out of its misery?"
There was a pause, and then the voice in his head responded with a laugh, "Kill it? Oh, that's brilliant. Do that, and you'll have an undead griffin coming after you for revenge."
The words hit Leon like a splash of cold water. His eyes widened as the realization sank in.
Of course. If the griffin died here, in this cursed land where the dead did not stay dead, it wouldn't just vanish peacefully. No, it would rise again, far more monstrous than before. The thought of a massive, vengeful griffin stalking them, perhaps even flying, sent a shiver down his spine. It would be more dangerous than the corpse knight they had fought earlier, and with wings, it could hunt them down with terrifying speed and fury.
Leon cursed under his breath, lowering his sword. "Damn it, you're right."
"What's wrong?" Brandon asked, noticing Leon's hesitation.
"We can't let it die," Leon muttered, still processing the gravity of the situation. "If we do, it'll turn into something far worse."
Liam frowned, trying to understand. "You mean it'll come back as... one of them?"
"Exactly," Leon said, his mind racing. He had no affection for the griffin, but he knew they had to act quickly. "We need to help it before it's too late."
Brandon and Liam exchanged uncertain glances. Healing a griffin was no small task, especially in this state. But leaving it to die and face an undead beast in the near future was even worse.
"We don't have much time," Leon added, glancing back at the griffin's twitching form. "Either we save it, or we prepare for a fight we can't win."
Brandon sighed but nodded. "Let's do what we can."
With urgency, the group turned back toward the fallen beast, their minds now set on a race against time, to either save the griffin or face the wrath of its undead form.
Leon felt a rising panic take hold of him. They had struggled enough against zombies and wild beasts; facing a zombie-like griffin was unthinkable. It would be a death sentence. His heart raced as he spoke, his words tumbling out in a rush. "How on earth are we supposed to save it? I'm not a healer, let alone a vet. It's bleeding out! Do you have any idea what we're supposed to do?"
The girl's voice in his head was calm, almost dismissive. "Relax. It's simpler than you think. All you need to do is pull out the crossbow bolt. The rest will be up to its natural healing. As long as it stays alive until you leave this place, that's enough, right?" She added with a wistful tone, "I hope Master Holemond's creations are as resilient as they used to be."
"Holem! what?" Leon muttered, trying to catch her words, but she had already faded into a murmur.
"Do you want a history lesson, or do you want to deal with the dying griffin that might turn into a walking nightmare?" she quipped, her voice tinged with amusement.
Leon shook his head, banishing his curiosity. There was no time for idle questions. He turned to his companions. "You two stay here. I've got to do something." He didn't bother explaining, trusting that Brandon and Liam would follow his lead. They exchanged a glance, but neither objected. After all, Leon had been right about these things before.
Taking a deep breath, Leon approached the griffin, his heart thudding in his chest. Its massive body lay still, save for the weak flapping of one injured wing. The creature was clearly in no condition to attack, yet its sheer size and the sharp talons embedded in the earth kept Leon on edge.
As he rounded to the other side, the gruesome sight of the thick crossbow bolt lodged in its chest made his stomach twist. It was no ordinary arrow. This bolt was designed for hunting large beasts, if not full-blown siege engines. Its shaft was thicker than anything Leon had ever seen fired from a crossbow. By all accounts, a hit like this should have killed any normal animal. Yet somehow, this griffin clung to life, though barely.
Leon kept glancing at the griffin's claws, enormous and razor-sharp, capable of shredding a man to ribbons in seconds. His gut told him to keep his distance, but the voice in his head pushed him forward. There was no time to hesitate.
He stepped closer, suppressing the rising fear, trying not to think about what might happen if the griffin lashed out. Just remove the bolt, he told himself. It's simple. Just pull it out, and everything will be fine.
But as he took another step forward, the griffin's sharp eagle eyes locked onto him, burning with a mixture of pain and wariness. Its talons dug deeper into the ground, scraping up clods of earth as if bracing for an attack.
Leon froze. His breath caught in his throat, and he quickly backed off, heart pounding. He knew it was still too dangerous. The beast could strike in an instant, and without protection, there'd be no saving him if those claws decided to tear him apart.
He found himself staring into the griffin's eyes, torn between his instinct to help and the primal fear the creature stirred in him. I need to calm it down, he thought. He had to find a way to make the griffin trust him, to stop seeing him as a threat.
"Hey, big guy," he began awkwardly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm trying to help. If you kill me, we both lose. You'll just bleed out right here."
The griffin's gaze softened ever so slightly, its breathing still ragged but less frantic. For a moment, Leon thought he saw something in those golden eyes, a flicker of understanding, maybe even trust. But it was fleeting, and the creature's body tensed again, claws still gripping the earth.
"Look at you," the girl's voice chimed in, clearly entertained. "Waving a sword around like that and marching up to a wounded creature. Of course, it's terrified. Anyone would be."
Leon glanced down at his sword, which gleamed coldly in the dim light. He hadn't even realized how threatening he must have looked, approaching with his weapon drawn like a predator. Cursing his own stupidity, he sheathed the blade, hoping the gesture would calm the beast.
Slowly, carefully, he approached again, empty-handed this time. The griffin's eyes followed his every movement, but it no longer looked ready to strike. He could feel its pain, its exhaustion, as though the great creature was deciding whether or not to trust this strange human who kept speaking to it.
Leon knelt beside the griffin's chest, his hands trembling as he reached for the bolt. "I'm going to pull this out now," he whispered. "You're going to be okay."
The beast let out a low, pained growl, but it did not move. Taking a deep breath, Leon gripped the thick shaft and began to pull.