3400. Enough said. Have fun. It is Christmas night writing this.
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The moon hung low, its pale light barely brushing the frost-tipped branches of the ancient trees. The squad had been preparing to move out for hours, readying themselves to rendezvous with Spider and Wild's team by dawn. But despite the flurry of activity, a grim silence lingered over the camp.
Grey was still missing.
Serene stood near the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her breath came in sharp bursts, misting in the frigid air. She scanned the distant tree line, her emerald eyes sharp and glassy with unshed tears. Shot stood beside her, a quiet sentinel, one hand resting lightly on Serene's shoulder.
Behind them, Fleet and Root exchanged uneasy glances as they secured their sleds. Brawl knelt by the fire, sharpening his club with slow, deliberate movements, but even he occasionally looked up, his brows furrowed.
"He's been gone too long," Fleet muttered, his voice barely audible.
Root nodded grimly. "Do you think… something took him?"
Brawl growled, low and sharp. "Enough. He's out there. He'll come back."
But despite the confidence in his voice, the weight of uncertainty hung heavy over them all.
Keen finally spoke, his voice low and edged with something hard. "We'll give it another hour. If he's not back… we move."
Serene's shoulders tensed as she took another step forward, her voice tight. "We can't just leave him. What if—what if something did take him? We can't just—"
A faint sound—a shuffle, a distant footstep—froze her mid-sentence.
A figure stumbled into view from the darkness.
"Grey…" she breathed.
He was moving slowly, his body swaying with every step. The moon's dying light fell across his form, illuminating the blood soaking his furs, his hands, his face. His eyes were vacant, staring somewhere far beyond the clearing.
"Grey!" Serene's voice cracked as she bolted across the frost-covered ground, her bow falling forgotten at her side.
The others froze, their collective breath held in fragile silence.
Serene reached him just as his knees gave out, catching him before he hit the ground. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, pulling him close.
"Grey! Where were you? What happened? Are you hurt? Whose blood is this? Why—"
The questions poured out of her in rapid succession, her voice trembling with panic and exhaustion.
Grey's hollow gaze briefly met hers before falling away, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no sound came. His breathing quickened, sharp and uneven, and he flinched at her barrage of questions.
"Serene," Shot said softly, stepping forward. Her voice was calm, but firm, carrying the weight of both authority and care. "Give him a moment."
Serene's head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto Shot's face.
"But—he's—look at him, Shot!" Her voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Something happened. He—he needs—"
"I know," Shot said, her hand resting lightly on Serene's shoulder. Her tone was steady, her expression softened by quiet understanding. "But not like this. You're overwhelming him. Step back. Let Keen handle it."
Serene's chest heaved, her shoulders trembling. For a moment, it looked like she might argue again, but Shot's steady gaze held her in place. Finally, she swallowed hard and nodded, her grip on Grey loosening slightly.
The others had gathered around, their faces etched with shock and uncertainty. Brawl stepped closer, his voice low and gruff.
"Grey. Talk to me. What happened out there?"
Grey's mouth opened again, but no words came. His breaths grew sharper, more erratic, and static filled his mind, drowning out thought. His knees buckled once more.
Keen stepped forward, his hand coming to rest firmly on Grey's shoulder. His voice cut through the haze—not sharp, but grounding, like a hand guiding someone in the dark.
"Everyone—GO."
The command was final, carrying a weight that no one dared to challenge. "Head to the rendezvous point. Now. We'll catch up."
The squad hesitated, their feet rooted to the frost-bitten earth. But one by one, they turned away, moving hesitantly into the shadows.
Serene lingered. Her eyes stayed fixed on Grey, her lips trembling with words she couldn't bring herself to speak.
"Serene," Keen said, softer this time but no less resolute. "Go."
Serene shook her head weakly. "I… I can't. I can't leave him like this."
Shot's hand was back on Serene's arm, her voice barely above a whisper. "Serene. Come on. Let Keen do his job. You'll see Grey again soon."
There was a pause—a beat of fragile silence—before Serene allowed herself to be guided away. Her feet dragged over the snow, her head turning back again and again until the trees swallowed her figure.
Only Brawl remained, his heavy arms crossed over his chest, his gaze steady.
Keen knelt beside Grey, his large hand resting gently on the boy's trembling shoulder.
"Grey," he said, his voice low and steady. "You're safe now. Take your time. Tell me what happened."
Grey's lips quivered, and tears began to spill down his blood-streaked face. His shoulders shook as he choked out a sharp breath.
"They—they made me do it!" he sobbed, his voice cracking with the weight of the memory. "I didn't want to. They wouldn't talk—they just kept attacking!"
Keen's hand tightened slightly on Grey's shoulder, anchoring him.
"It happened too fast," Grey continued, his voice faltering. "If—if I didn't…" His hollow eyes dropped to his trembling hands, stained crimson. "I had to. I had to, Keen."
The sobs wracked his thin frame, and Keen pulled him close, letting Grey's head rest against his chest. His voice dropped to a murmur, low and soothing, as he spoke words that were too soft to carry into the night.
Brawl remained nearby, silent and watchful. His massive form was a wall between Grey and the dark expanse of the woods.
When Grey's sobs began to slow, and his breathing evened out, Keen spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of certainty.
"Whatever happened, Grey… you came back. You survived. And we'll figure the rest out together. You hear me?"
Grey nodded weakly, his head still pressed against Keen's chest.
The two men—Keen and Brawl—shared a heavy glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
The night stretched long, the distant howls of unseen beasts carried faintly on the wind. But for a brief moment, the world felt still, and Grey—broken, exhausted, and hollow—was not alone.
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As the three jogged back toward the others, Keen made the call to stow the bloodstained robes deep inside a leather bag. With practiced hands, he secured it tightly and tossed it onto the sled he and Brawl were hauling. There would be time to deal with it later—right now, they had to move.
When they rejoined the group, Keen and Bark moved ahead, handing off the sled to other members of the squad. The tension of the recent encounter still lingered in the cold air, but the squad pressed forward with quiet determination.
Serene fell into step beside Grey, her eyes flicking toward him and then away again, like she wasn't sure how to start.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made Grey glance sideways at her.
"You don't have to be," Grey replied with a faint, tired smile. "You were just worried about me."
Serene's gaze dropped to the snow-covered path beneath their feet, her shoulders hunched slightly against the cold. After a moment, she took a small step closer, her voice low. "I thought this would feel different," she confessed. "I thought it would be… an adventure. I knew it would be dangerous, but seeing you like that—covered in blood, not even able to speak—it felt so real. And during the fight with that mantis creature… I froze. I was useless."
Grey's chest tightened at her words. He wanted to ease the weight pressing down on her shoulders, to pull her away from the guilt he knew too well.
"You weren't useless," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "At least you didn't shoot at a tree thinking you'd hit the mantis… and then watch it pop up on the exact opposite side."
Serene's head lifted slightly, her lips twitching upward in spite of herself. "That's… actually pretty lame."
Grey let out a small laugh, the sound raw but real. It felt like it cracked something open in his chest—a brief moment of light in the encroaching darkness. "I'm glad—"
He stopped mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat. There was something lingering in the way he looked at her, something unsaid hanging heavy between them. His lips parted again, as if he might try to find the right words, but—
A shrill cry cut through the frigid air, sharp and alien. It was a whistling pattern none of them had ever heard before, a sound carved from desperation and panic.
Keen's voice rose over the noise, sharp and commanding. "We need to go—now! All of you, grab the sleds. That's a signal for immediate help. Spider and Wild's team are in trouble!"
The squad sprang into action, the fragile moment between Grey and Serene splintering like ice underfoot. Weapons were drawn, sleds were grabbed, and boots pounded against the ground as they surged forward.
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They heard it before they saw it—the deep crackle of thunder reverberating through the fantastical forest, each pulse of sound rolling over them like distant avalanches. The squad pushed forward, their breaths fogging in the cold air, boots crunching over grass.
When they finally emerged into a clearing, they froze.
Before them stood a creature pulled from the edges of a nightmare and a dream—a towering fusion of predatory elegance and raw, elemental power. Its body was long and sinuous, built for fluid, sweeping movements, like the seamless grace of a hunting falcon entwined with the lithe strength of a serpent.
Standing twice the height of a grown man, its elongated neck arched upward, head swiveling with sharp, deliberate movements as it assessed the intruders. The beast paid little attention to the crumpled figures scattered across the clearing—Spider and Wild's team. They were alive but barely, their forms scorched and trembling, faint wisps of smoke curling from their clothing and exposed skin. Some groaned faintly, while others lay motionless, eyes wide with shock as static sparks still danced across their charred pelts.
But the creature itself was not unscathed.
Deep gouges marred its glass-like hide where stone spears had struck true, leaving jagged fissures glowing faintly with flickering golden light. A sharp crack splintered one of its crystalline horns, with thin fractures webbing outward from the point of impact. Along its flank, pieces of its translucent skin had been shattered, leaving raw, glowing fissures where blows from bone clubs had landed with desperate force. Its whip-like tail dragged slightly along the ground, its crystalline blade chipped and uneven.
Despite its injuries, the beast's movements remained fluid and predatory. Its elk-like horns—jagged, crystalline, and glowing with an inner storm—reflected a brilliant light. Pulses of electricity raced down their lengths, crackling and sparking across the creature's translucent skin, filling the air with the sharp scent of ozone.
Its head was sharp and angular, birdlike in its cruel precision, with piercing, gemstone-like eyes that seemed to cut through the squad's souls. Its tail hovered low behind it, its jagged crystalline blade still gleaming with an edge sharp enough to cleave bone.
For a long, breathless moment, no one moved. No one spoke. Spider and Wild's team lay scattered across the clearing, their injuries vivid reminders of the creature's wrath, but the beast bore the scars of their defiance.
The creature's breathing was faintly uneven, the rise and fall of its glass-like chest marked by shallow, deliberate inhales. Despite its wounds, its stance remained poised, its body taut with readiness—a living spring coiled and waiting to strike.
It was not just a predator—it was a storm given form, a living tempest wrapped in translucent glass and lightning veins. And now, its piercing gaze was locked onto them.
The squad could feel it in their bones: the beast was injured, yes—but not weak. It was still a storm, still a force of nature. And now, it was aware of them.
In Grey's eyes, the entire creature radiated a golden energy, pulsing with the same overwhelming intensity as the wolf he had faced before. Sparks danced along its crystalline horns, crackling like distant thunder in the night.
As the creature's sharp, gemstone-like eyes scanned the squad, they stopped—locking directly onto Grey. Its stare carried a desperate, vicious hunger, an intent so raw and unfiltered that Grey felt it pierce straight through him. It—it's looking at me, just like back then.
With its attention entirely diverted from the wounded members of Team Two, Brawl's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Archers, up in the trees!" he bellowed, pulling his massive club from his back with a practiced motion. "The rest of you, charge forward! Keen, support us with your spear. Watch for any openings—don't let your guard down!"
Brawl had taken command, cutting Keen off from assuming the lead. He knew that Keen was their strongest fighter, the one who could turn catastrophe into survival, just as he had during the ambush before. And right now, Keen needed to stay sharp, not at the forefront of the assault.
The creature lowered its head slightly, its horns glowing brighter as arcs of lightning danced along their jagged edges. The crackling energy spiraled outward, forming a translucent yellow sphere of electric energy, shimmering and humming with barely-contained power. The air inside the sphere vibrated with static, sparks leaping unpredictably.
Then it struck.
Brawl and his squad were caught within the shimmering barrier. Shouts of pain erupted as every man except Brawl collapsed to their knees, their limbs trembling and unresponsive. The electricity coursing through them numbed their nerves, spreading through their veins like a parasitic force. Brawl alone remained standing, teeth gritted, his massive form trembling under the strain—but he did not fall.
"Shot! Grey! Serene! Shoot now!" Keen's voice roared through the chaos.
Three large arrows, each crafted from the sturdy horns of Hooded Horns, shot from the trees. They spiraled through the air, slicing toward the creature. But as they met the crackling barrier, two of them slowed dramatically, their momentum sapped by the energy field. Only Shot's arrow pushed through, grazing just below the creature's piercing eye. The beast flinched, its head snapping to the side, its concentration breaking for a split second.
Brawl didn't hesitate. With a guttural roar, he surged forward, his massive club raised high. He brought it crashing down on the creature's hind leg, the impact accompanied by a sickening crack. The beast let out an ear-splitting screech, its legs buckling beneath its weight as it crumpled onto one side.
In that fleeting moment, Grey saw it. A faint golden glow—barely perceptible—gathering in the creature's chest before flowing upward through its body, channeling into its glowing horns.
"Keen! Charge!" Grey shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "Not the neck! Go for the chest! The chest! It's going to attack again"
Charge hesitated, his instincts telling him to aim for the creature's vulnerable neck—a surefire kill. But Keen didn't hesitate, and his body moved before thought could intervene.
He loaded his spear into his atlatl. But this throw was different—it wasn't the controlled power they had seen from him before. It was something else entirely.
No one saw the spear leave the launcher. One moment, Keen swung the atlatl; the next, the spear had already crossed the space between them, embedding itself deeply in the creature's chest. The beast froze, its horns dimming as the pulsing glow faded entirely.
For the first time, the creature looked stunned—its predatory focus replaced with fleeting confusion.
"Everyone, now!" Keen barked, his voice carrying the weight of command.
The remaining hunters surged forward. Stone-tipped spears and heavy bone clubs struck the beast's glass-like hide with brutal efficiency. Arrows rained down from the trees in quick succession, each shot finding its mark in the now-exposed chest and joints.
But it was Brawl who delivered the final blow.
With a primal yell, he leapt onto the creature's massive head, his boots finding uneven purchase on its sharp, crystalline surface. His club came down with immense force—once, twice, three times—each strike sending cracks spiderwebbing across the creature's skull. Sparks flickered weakly from its horns with each impact, fading like dying embers.
Brawl struck again. And again. Until there was no hum of lightning, no flicker of energy, no sound of ragged breath—only silence.
The beast lay still, its body dim and lifeless, crystalline shards scattering across the frost-bitten earth. Its once-magnificent horns no longer glowed, their energy snuffed out.
For a long moment, no one moved. The hunters stood frozen, their breaths ragged, their weapons held limply in trembling hands. The smell of ozone still clung to the air, mingling with sweat, blood, and the faint copper tang of exhaustion.
Grey exhaled slowly, his bow still clutched in white-knuckled fingers. His vision wavered as the golden glow lingering around the beast finally faded from sight.
It was over.
The clearing was eerily still, the silence pressing down on them like a heavy shroud. The storm had passed, leaving only the smell of ozone and the faint crackle of dissipating energy hanging in the air. The hunters moved slowly, their breaths ragged, their muscles trembling with exhaustion as they began to regroup.
Keen gave orders in a low, firm voice. "Fleet, Root—see to Spider and Wild's team, make sure to check on Trek, Thatch, and Catcher. Stabilize them. Brawl, help me secure the beast's body. Serene, Grey, stay sharp and keep watch. We're not out of this yet."
Serene sat in the tree next to Grey's, her bow still clutched in her hands, her emerald eyes flickering with concern as she glanced at him. Grey nodded faintly, his gaze locked on the fallen creature.
Time passed in fragile quiet. Spider and Wild's squad groaned softly as their wounds were tended to. Some managed to sit up, others remained still, their eyes glassy with exhaustion. Keen and Brawl worked methodically, binding the beast's cracked crystalline horns with thick rope, securing them to the sleds they had dragged into the clearing.
For a fleeting moment, it felt like they had won. Like they could finally breathe.
Then they heard it.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the clearing. It was faint, yet sharp—each strike of skin against skin ringing out like brittle glass snapping in the cold.
The sound came from the trees.
The hunters froze, their heads snapping toward the darkness beyond the clearing. Grey's breath hitched, a faint chill crawling up his spine. His hand went instinctively to his bowstring.
Then came footsteps—slow, measured, heavy with intent. Six figures emerged from the shadows, stepping into the faint moonlight pooling at the clearing's edge.
They wore the same clothes.
Smooth, flowing fabric shimmered faintly in the pale glow, the golden serpent emblems stitched across their chests catching the light. Their robes rippled with every step, unnaturally clean despite the frost and blood-stained forest floor.
At their center stood an old man. He walked with a staff carved from some polished, ebony wood, its surface etched with faint, glowing runes. His face was weathered, deep lines carved across his gaunt features. Long silver hair framed his hollow cheeks, and his pale, icy-blue eyes glinted with something cruel—something ancient.
When he spoke, his voice was soft yet sharp, carrying across the clearing like frostbitten glass.
"Fri—s… thank you. We were trac— this demonic beast for days."
The words were broken, fragmented—each syllable twisting in Grey's ears like a serrated knife. And yet, despite the distortion, Grey understood him.
The blood drained from his face, his breathing stilled, and his bowstring trembled under his grip. His silver eyes locked onto the old man, the world narrowing until nothing existed but that frail, ancient figure.
Serene turned to him, her voice barely a whisper. "Grey… what—what's wrong?"
But Grey couldn't answer.
His sight sharpened, and for the first time, he saw it.
The old man's aura burned around him—not red, not weak like the others Grey had fought before. It was orange, just like Keen's. But this was different. It wasn't flickering or wavering—it was solid, dense, and unyielding. Like molten metal poured into the air and cooled into something impenetrable.
It wasn't an aura of potential—it was one of mastery.
Then, the old man smiled—a thin curve of cracked lips.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind.
It was mocking.
And Grey realized, with chilling certainty, that the fight with the beast had been nothing more than an overture.
The real danger had just stepped into the clearing.
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Hope you enjoyed, If the chapters get longer and longer, hopefully readers will like that. Thank for reading, comment, follow, like/vote please.