Chereads / The War of the Enchanted Jungle / Chapter 10 - 10. The Shadows Beneath The Root

Chapter 10 - 10. The Shadows Beneath The Root

With a continued rhythm of crunching footsteps against the forest floor, Micheal's journey continued onward.

He wasn't alone. He could feel it—the way the silence broke in subtle ways. Leaves rustled without wind, twigs snapped where he hadn't stepped. Something, or someone, was watching him.

Micheal gripped his staff tightly, its warmth a reassuring anchor. "I know you're there," he called out, his voice cutting through the stillness. "If you're going to attack, just do it."

A chuckle echoed from the shadows, low and chilling. It wasn't like the whispers he had heard before; this was more deliberate, as though whatever lurked in the darkness was toying with him.

"You're bold, boy," a voice finally answered. It was smooth and deep, carrying a strange resonance. "Boldness can be admirable. or foolish."

The shadows moved, coalescing into one thick pool, like ink spilled on the ground. From this darkness, one figure emerged-tall and lean, with skin as dark as the night and eyes that glowed a piercing red.

His cloak was made of shadow itself, fraying at the edges to dissolve into nothingness.

Micheal raised his staff defensively. "Who are you?

He stepped closer with an unsettling grace. "I am Vaelor, keeper of the shadows beneath the roots. And you, little wanderer, are trespassing."

"I was sent here by the jungle," Micheal said, his voice low and steady, though a knot of fear seemed to be in his chest. "If I'm trespassing, then maybe you should take it up with the jungle.

Vaelor smirked, showing sharp, unnatural-white teeth. "Ah, the jungle's chosen. It's been centuries since it last picked someone. I suppose that makes you special."

He circled Micheal slowly, his crimson eyes scanning him like a predator sizing up its prey. Micheal turned to keep him in sight, refusing to let the shadowy figure slip behind him.

"What do you want?" Micheal demanded.

The smirk fell from Vaelor's face, and he regarded him with mild curiosity. "What I want is irrelevant. What matters is what the jungle wants from you."

He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Do you even know what that is, boy? Or are you blind, tumbling head over heels, letting its magic pull you deeper into its web?"

Micheal bristled but didn't answer. He had been asking himself the same question a thousand times, and the Keeper's vague guidance hadn't really clarified his purpose.

Vaelor chuckled again; the soft sound ground against Micheal's nerves. "You don't know, do you? You're nothing but a pawn, a toy for forces far greater than you can comprehend."

Micheal clenched his jaw, the grip on his staff tightening. "If I'm a pawn, then why are you wasting your time talking to me?"

The shadowy figure stopped, his smirk returning. "Because even pawns can tip the balance of a game, given the right push. And you, little pawn, are standing at a crossroads."

"What do you mean?

Vaelor raised a hand, and the shadows around him writhed like things alive. "The jungle is alive, yes, but it is not united. There are forces within it—old, powerful, and hungry—that see you as more than a mere pawn. They see an opportunity."

And with that, the shadows began to spread, crawling across the ground toward Micheal. He took a backward step, but they moved faster, reaching out in a second to wrap around him.

Do you feel it?" Vaelor asked, his voice low, hypnotic. "The power beneath your feet? The ancient magic that pulses through this place? It could be yours, Micheal. All of it.

Micheal's heart raced as the shadows touched his boots, cold and suffocating. He raised his staff, its golden light pushing back against the encroaching darkness.

"I don't want your power. The jungle chose me to protect it-not to take from it.

Vaelor laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally. "Protect it? Is that what you think you're doing? The jungle doesn't need protection, boy. It is ancient, vast, and unyielding. It needs no guardian. It needs a ruler."

The shadows surged, but Micheal thrust his staff forward, its light flaring brightly. The darkness recoiled, and Vaelor hissed, his smirk finally slipping.

"You're stronger than I expected," Vaelor said, his tone colder now. "But strength alone won't save you. The jungle's magic is wild, unpredictable. It will consume you if you let it."

"I won't let it," Micheal shot back.

Vaelor's crimson eyes narrowed. "We'll see."

A wave of his hand, and the shadows retreated, slipped back into the ground, as if they had never been there. Vaelor stepped back, his form beginning to dissolve into the darkness.

"Remember my words, boy," he said, as the figure faded. "The jungle is not your ally. It is a force, ancient and untamed. Trust it too much, and it will destroy you.

Then he was gone, leaving Micheal in the clearing alone.

The air felt heavier now, like something in the jungle itself had been stained by Vaelor's presence. Micheal lowered his staff, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what happened.

"Another warning," he muttered, the bitterness heavy in his voice. "How many more will I get before something actually tries to kill me?

But even as he uttered the words, he knew they were a lie. The jungle's tests had been perilous, and the price of defeat was always death. He could ill afford to let his guard down.

With every step, the jungle appeared to be closing in around him, the path constricting, the trees leaning in.

He could feel it, the magic in the air, throbbing like a heartbeat, drawing him toward something he couldn't see.

But Vaelor's words still echoed in his brain, a leftover specter of doubt. Was this jungle an ally, or was he walking into a trap?

Micheal shook his head, pushing the thought aside. He had no luxury to doubt. Not now.

With his staff glowing palely in his hand, he continued onward, his soul hardening further with every step.

The heart of the jungle waited, and he would face whatever awaited him.