The stale air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying stone. Moonlight filtered weakly through the gaping holes in the temple's crumbling roof, illuminating swirling dust motes that danced like mischievous sprites. Hunter Dragan, sprawled on the cold, hard floor, blinked sleepily. His head throbbed, a dull echo of the bizarre dream that had just jolted him awake.
He'd been in a ruined temple, much like this one, but grander, more ominous. Cloaked figures, their faces obscured by shadow, had huddled around a shimmering glass orb, a prophecy unfolding within its depths. A prophecy about *him*. The words still echoed in his ears: "…a powerful mage… defeat the Beast King… end the chaos…" Then, a sudden grab, a surge of fear, and darkness.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. The dream felt intensely real, leaving a lingering unease in its wake. He looked around the temple, the familiar chaos of scattered rubble and overgrown vegetation offering little comfort. The air, usually thick with the scent of damp stone and mildew, now carried a sharper, almost metallic tang. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Iris.
His heart lurched. He scanned the temple, his gaze darting between shadowed alcoves and crumbling columns. He should have been jolted awake by her snoring. Iris, with her characteristically loud and rhythmic breathing that always managed to annoy him but at least ensured his sleep was never lonely. But there was silence, a silence so profound it was almost deafening.
Panic clawed at his throat. He called her name, his voice a raw whisper at first, then escalating into a desperate shout that echoed through the desolate temple. "Iris! Iris, where are you?"
Silence. Only the rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth outside answered him.
His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He launched into a frantic search, his youthful energy fueling a desperate, almost manic quest. He checked every nook and cranny, every shadowed corner, his eyes straining to pierce the gloom. He called her name again and again, his voice hoarse with worry, the name sounding strange and alien without her usual snarky reply.
Hours melted away as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and bruised purple. Hunter's initial panic was morphing into a cold, hard fear. This wasn't like Iris to simply vanish. She always had a sharp retort, a sarcastic comment, even in moments of grave danger. This absence was different. This absence screamed trouble.
Then, he saw it. A faint scuff mark on the dusty floor, almost invisible against the grime. He followed it, his heart sinking with each step. The mark led away from the temple, weaving a path through the undergrowth. It wasn't just a scuff mark; it was a series of them, a trail, punctuated by the occasional imprint of a boot sole and, more disturbingly, drag marks. Drag marks that looked suspiciously like those of someone being forcibly hauled along the ground.
How could he have overslept to the point he hadn't noticed his companion getting taken away from him? Has he really that incompetent?
The trail led him deeper into the forest, the dappled sunlight fading into twilight's embrace. The air grew colder, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else… something musky, something feral. His pulse quickened, a primal fear coiling in his stomach. He knew instinctively, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
The trail eventually led him to a dark, gaping maw in the side of a cliff. It wasn't a natural formation. This was a cave, crudely hewn, its opening barely visible in the fading light. The air around it throbbed with a palpable sense of menace, a tangible wickedness that sent shivers down his spine.
He cautiously approached the cave entrance, his hand instinctively reaching for the crystal shard he always carried, a small, but potent source of magical energy. He could feel the faint thrumming of magic within it, a comforting presence in the face of mounting dread.
Peering into the darkness, he saw it. A single, perfectly formed arrow shaft, embedded in the rough-hewn stone. It was Iris's arrow, unmistakable with its intricate carvings and the unique feather fletching. He knew that arrow – it was one of her favorites. The feather, however, was broken, stained crimson.
His breath hitched in his throat. He knew. He just knew.
He stepped into the cave, the darkness swallowing him whole. The musky smell intensified, becoming sickeningly sweet, mixed with the metallic tang of blood. He could hear the low growl, a guttural rumble that resonated deep within his chest, vibrating in his bones.
He wasn't alone.
He moved forward, his hand gripping the crystal shard tighter, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The low growl became louder, closer, accompanied by a rhythmic scraping sound, like claws dragging against stone.
Then, he saw her.
Or rather, he saw part of her. A section of her crimson tunic, snagged on a jagged rock, barely visible in the gloom. And beside it, a trail of blood, leading deeper into the impenetrable blackness of the cave.
"Fuck, Iris!" He yelled, but got no response of course.
A monstrous silhouette emerged from the shadows, its form vaguely humanoid but undeniably alien. Its eyes glowed with an unholy light, reflecting the feeble light emanating from Hunter's crystal. Sharp claws, dripping with blood, extended from its massive hands. Iris's arrow, or rather, what remained of it, lay embedded in its thick hide. It was huge, a hulking beast, its form barely discernible in the dimly lit cave, but the horrifying claws and the unmistakable glint of its eyes left no room for doubt: this was the creature that had taken Iris. The creature that had left her broken arrow and a trail of blood.
Hunter without even thinking of how he would survive defeating a monster alone, Hunter rushed towards the cave. The only thing on his mind was saving Iris. He'd be damned if he let her get hurt.