The ground began to rot beneath their boots.

  What had started as rough, dry trail gave way to something darker—spongy black moss, foul-smelling puddles, and trees warped into clawed, grasping shapes. Fog clung to the ground like it was alive. Even Brannor, who usually walked ahead without pause, slowed.

  “Something’s wrong with this place,” he said.

  Yvanna stopped beside him, raising a hand. “The wind doesn’t move here.”

  Saezu drew his sword. It felt light in his hand, but his fingers were slick with sweat. He didn’t know if it was from fear or the thick, damp heat rising from the ground.

  The Farlands had teeth here. And they were sharp.

  They first heard the clicking.

  Sharp, irregular, like claws tapping against stone.

  Then the growl—low, rattling. Not from one direction. From many.

  A flash of movement tore through the fog, and the first creature lunged from the dark.

  It was like a wolf, but wrong. Its legs were too long. Its jaw split down the middle like a cracked shell, lined with barbed teeth. Eyes glowed green in its sunken skull. When it landed, the ground hissed beneath its feet.

  Brannor didn’t wait.

  He met the beast mid-leap, slammed it aside with a blow that cracked bone and sent it skidding through moss. It didn’t get back up.

  But three more came.

  “Behind you!” Yvanna shouted.

  Saezu turned and blocked just in time—his blade ringing as it met a clawed limb. He ducked under another strike and stabbed upward. His blade pierced flesh, but the monster screeched and thrashed, spraying thick black blood that burned as it touched his cheek.

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  “Acid!” he yelled, staggering back.

  Yvanna stepped forward, eyes narrowing. She whispered something in a language Saezu didn’t know. A spiral of flame exploded from her palm, catching two of the creatures mid-charge. One screamed as fire engulfed it. The other darted through, smoking but alive.

  Brannor grabbed it by the neck and slammed it into the ground. Twice.

  Then silence.

  Saezu wiped his blade clean, wincing at the sting on his face. The blood had left a red burn. He knelt, breathing hard.

  Yvanna crouched beside the charred body of one of the beasts. Its limbs twitched. Its mouth gaped open, oozing black.

  “Not natural,” she muttered. “These were made.”

  “Made how?” Saezu asked.

  She looked up. “Magic. Blood. Hunger. Maybe all three.”

  Brannor leaned on his axe. “Whatever did this... we’re walking through its yard.”

  They didn’t stop.

  The deeper they went, the worse it got.

  The next threat came with no warning—something massive, camouflaged against the stones. It moved like shadow, then slammed down with enough force to crack open the ground. A centipede-like creature, six feet tall and twice as long, armored in plates of bone and stone, burst from a rocky crevice.

  Brannor was the first to meet it.

  He swung his axe downward. The blow cracked its shell, but not enough. The creature reared, its mandibles snapping inches from his chest.

  Saezu flanked from the side, blade aimed low. He stabbed between segments and heard a wet crunch. The monster shrieked, rearing again.

  Yvanna sent a blast of wind that staggered it backward—then whispered flame followed, scorching its face. The creature thrashed wildly.

  Brannor tackled it from behind, grabbed one of its legs, and yanked. A loud pop echoed as the limb snapped free. The creature twisted and finally collapsed.

  Saezu sat on a nearby rock, breathing hard.

  “That’s two fights in less than an hour.”

  Brannor nodded. “They’re getting bolder.”

  “Or we’re getting close to something they want to keep hidden,” Yvanna said.

  They looked ahead.

  Beyond the fog, the forest dropped into a long, low basin covered in black moss. In the center, half-covered by a fallen tree, stood what looked like an old statue—a woman with a sword raised high, broken at the hilt.

  A mark.

  A warning.

  Or a lure.

  That night, around a small fire, no one spoke for a while.

  Their clothes were stained. Their arms ached. Saezu's cheek throbbed. Brannor’s knuckles were bruised. Yvanna stared into the flames like she was somewhere else.

  Saezu broke the silence. “I couldn’t have done any of that alone.”

  Brannor grunted. “You’d be bones by now.”

  Yvanna smiled faintly. “Bones with purpose, though.”

  Saezu looked at both of them. “Thanks. I mean it.”

  Brannor handed him a skin of water. “Don’t die. That’s thanks enough.”

  Yvanna said nothing. But she didn’t look away.

  The monsters of the wild were only the beginning. Saezu knew it now. But for the first time, he believed something else, too.

  He didn’t need to survive this alone.

  And maybe—just maybe—that would be enough to win.