Tashina broke the silence as they stepped away from the edge of the ruined path. "We can't stay still for long. You remember what the journal said—and you're still being hunted."
Hatku didn't reply at first. The weight of the sword strapped to his back felt heavier today. Or maybe it was the weight of knowing what the Universal Gods had asked of him—the task, the impossible choice.
"I remember," he muttered. "I also remember how tired I am of running."
Tashina gave a humorless smile. "Running means we're still alive."
"Barely."
They walked for a few minutes in silence. Around them, the terrain began to change—trees became warped, their bark damp and gnarled like twisted flesh. Water oozed up around their feet, and the earth turned to mud and decay. They had reached the edge of a vast swamp, the air thick with flies and the scent of death.
"You ever come through here before?" Hatku asked.
"No." Her eyes narrowed. "But something's wrong. Can't you feel it? The silence—it's too... hollow."
Hatku felt it too. The swamp didn't feel dead—it felt watchful.
"We don't have to go through this way," he offered.
"We do," she replied quickly. "The valley route's collapsed. Swamp's our only option now."
So they went forward, deeper into the mire. Mud sucked at their boots like hungry mouths. Trees loomed with branches like bony fingers, drooping over them like they were entering a tomb.
They spoke in hushed tones, their voices the only thing keeping the silence at bay.
"You ever wonder if the journal's real?" Hatku asked.
Tashina glanced at him. "The ultimate being?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. But real or not, it gave people hope. That counts for something."
Hatku didn't answer.
"Hatku..." she said suddenly.
He followed her gaze.
She was looking up.
Her voice dropped into a whisper, sharp as a dagger: "In the trees."
Hatku slowly raised his eyes.
Dozens of glowing, slit-pupiled eyes blinked back.
At first, they didn't move. Then one set of eyes disappeared—and reappeared closer.
Another vanished.
Then another.
And then they dropped.
Five creatures fell from the canopy like living nightmares. Their skin was pale and translucent, stretched too tight over their long, wiry frames. Each limb ended in black claws that scraped against stone like knives. Their heads were too large, with jaws that split open vertically to reveal rows of inward-facing teeth. Their eyes were milky, yet alive with hunger. Clicks echoed from their throats, low and fast.
Hatku barely had time to draw his blade.
Tashina was faster. Her fists lit with green fire and she launched a blast into the first creature mid-air, blowing it into the swamp with a sickening splash.
But they were fast—inhumanly so.
Two more were on her before she could pivot, claws slashing through the air. One caught her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and blasted it point-blank in the chest, searing its flesh.
Hatku swung his father's sword as a creature lunged at him. The blade tore through its ribs, but it didn't scream—it shrieked, like something laughing underwater. It clawed at his leg even as it fell, ripping flesh.
Blood sprayed.
Another beast charged.
Hatku spun, ducked, then jammed the blade upward into its jaw. The creature twitched, convulsed, and then went limp.
Tashina ducked beneath a tail whip and fired two bolts into another's face. The creature staggered, blinded, but didn't fall. It leapt forward—only for Hatku to intercept it with a wide, brutal slash.
They moved like one.
Back-to-back, panting, sweating, bleeding.
One of the creatures clung to a tree above them, its long tongue slithering out like a snake. Tashina noticed too late—it snapped its tail down like a scorpion, a needle-thin spike launching from the tip.
She cried out.
The spike grazed her arm—just a scratch, it seemed—but it stung more than it should have.
The last creature lunged at Hatku.
He raised his blade, parried its claws with sparks flying, then spun and carved a wide arc through its chest, opening it completely. Its body collapsed into the murky water with a splash of dark blood.
They stood there, surrounded by the remains—burning flesh, steaming swamp water, blood staining the mist.
Tashina clutched her arm. "Bastard tagged me. Just a nick."
Hatku turned to her, breathing heavily. "Let me see."
She waved him off. "I'll be fine. Nothing deep."
But neither noticed how the veins near the wound were already darkening. Just slightly. Like something was moving beneath the skin.
"Let's move before more of those freaks show up," Hatku said, scanning the treetops.
Tashina nodded, wiping blood from her cheek.
They didn't speak again as they left the swamp.
But something came with them.
Not the creatures.
Something slower.
Something venomous.
Something none of them saw—until it would be too late.