The forest, shrouded in twilight, stretched endlessly in all directions. Ronan's eyes flickered to the fading daylight, the shadows creeping into the clearing where he stood. His breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of the moment pressing against his chest. For the first time in his life, he felt the cold sting of power—a force far beyond his comprehension, surging within him.
Doomfang stood by his side, his massive form casting an imposing shadow over the land. The wyvern's presence was both a comfort and a curse. It felt as though Ronan was walking a fine line between being the master and the servant. The creature's power was immense, yet it was not his to control. Not yet.
You are the Forsaken. The world will bend to your will or break beneath your power, Doomfang's voice echoed in Ronan's mind, deep and resonant, like a distant thunderstorm.
Ronan shook his head, brushing the wyvern's voice aside. "I don't want power," he muttered to himself, though deep down, he knew the truth. Power had already found him. And it was a force that could either save him or destroy him.
His thoughts were interrupted by a rustling sound from the underbrush. Ronan tensed, his senses sharpening. He knew the wilds were full of dangers, and every movement in the forest could be the prelude to death. But this time, there was something different. The air grew colder, the atmosphere heavier.
Something was hunting him.
Ronan's eyes narrowed, and he instinctively reached out for Doomfang's presence. The wyvern was alert now, its attention focused on the surrounding darkness.
Something stalks you, Forsaken. A predator of great skill, Doomfang warned, his tone edged with caution.
Ronan's heart raced as the ground beneath him trembled, the air thickening with the unmistakable presence of a predator. He didn't know what kind of creature it was, but he could feel the malice in the air. It was close.
A low growl echoed from the trees, sending a chill down his spine. From the shadows, a figure emerged—a creature like no other he had seen. It was massive, its hulking form hidden in the darkness of the trees. Its skin was like stone, mottled with patches of black and gray, and its eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow hue. The creature's limbs were long and muscular, ending in sharp claws, and its mouth was filled with jagged teeth.
The beast was an apex predator, and it had set its sights on him.
Ronan's instinct screamed at him to run, but he knew better. There would be no escaping this creature. The only way out was through.
Do not run, Doomfang's voice boomed in his mind. Face the beast as your fate demands. You are no longer weak.
Ronan's heart raced, but he knew he had no choice. He had been cast out by the village, hunted by those who feared him. And now, the wilds had thrown its own monster at him. There would be no mercy.
He stepped forward, his body instinctively aligning with Doomfang's presence. His hands trembled as he called upon the bond between them, the power of the wyvern surging through him. He wasn't sure what he could do, but he had no other choice.
The beast roared, a sound that echoed through the forest, shaking the trees. Its claws scraped the earth, and it lunged at Ronan with terrifying speed. But just as the creature was about to strike, Doomfang moved.
With a flap of his massive wings, the wyvern shot forward, faster than Ronan could follow. His claws slashed through the air, and with a single swipe, the creature was sent flying back, crashing into the trees with a deafening crash.
Ronan's heart skipped a beat as he watched Doomfang battle the creature. The wyvern was an unstoppable force of nature, each movement precise and lethal. The beast, though powerful, was no match for the wyvern's raw strength and agility. With a single roar, Doomfang tore into the creature, rending flesh and bone with ease.
The predator let out a final, blood-curdling scream before falling silent. Doomfang stood over its carcass, his eyes glowing with an eerie blue light.
Ronan stood frozen, a mixture of awe and fear coursing through him. He had witnessed the wyvern's power firsthand, and it was both terrifying and magnificent. Doomfang had destroyed the beast in moments, leaving only a mangled corpse behind.
But as Ronan stared at the wyvern, he realized something. He wasn't just a spectator in this fight. He was part of it. The bond between him and Doomfang was growing stronger with every passing moment. The wyvern's power was now his to command—whether he wanted it or not.
The world is filled with beasts, Forsaken. But you are more than a mere man now. You are the hunter. Doomfang's voice was low, almost approving.
Ronan swallowed, his throat dry. "I didn't ask for this," he whispered.
No one ever does. The wyvern's voice held an edge of something ancient, something knowing. But you will learn to embrace your fate. And you will learn to survive.
The forest fell silent again, the only sound the distant call of birds and the wind rustling through the trees. Ronan stood still for a moment longer, his thoughts racing. He had just killed a creature far stronger than any he had ever faced before, and he had done it with the power of Doomfang. The wyvern's presence was both a gift and a curse, and Ronan wasn't sure which was more dangerous.
But he couldn't afford to dwell on it. There were more dangers out here in the wilds—more beasts, more predators, and more forces that would test him. He had survived this encounter, but how many more would there be before he found answers?
With a final glance at the fallen creature, Ronan turned and began walking again, Doomfang following silently behind him. The path ahead was unclear, but he knew one thing for certain.
He was no longer just a boy from Black Hollow. He was a Forsaken Beastbinder, and the world would soon learn to fear his name.