I must have been more exhausted than I thought, because I slept like a rock.
For a moment, in that hazy space between dreaming and waking, I convinced myself the jungle, the wolves, the shape-shifting hyenas—everything—had just been some wild stress dream. I felt warm and cozy, like I was snuggled under a soft, heated blanket.
Then I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was the endless sweep of the jungle stretching out below us—emerald canopies layered under a wide blue sky. The second thing I saw was a sculpted arm draped over my waist.
I froze.
I turned my head slowly, and there he was—Gideon—sleeping beside me, his face relaxed, his lashes resting against his cheeks. He looked almost human like this. Peaceful. Majestic. I couldn't help but wonder what he looked like in full beast form.
I tried to wiggle free, but his arm tightened around me instinctively. No chance. I'd have better luck pushing a tree.
So I did the only thing I could: I stayed still and stared at him. Up close, he was annoyingly perfect—the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint stubble, the way his hair fell across his forehead. I reached up, tempted to brush it away, when his eyes snapped open.
I jerked back, cheeks burning, and sat up so fast my head spun.
"I am so sorry!" I blurted. "I didn't mean to stare at you like that. I just got… curious…"
"It's okay," he said gently. "Do you feel better now? You were shivering last night, so I lay beside you to keep you warm. It worked."
He gave me a warm smile that made my heart skip like it was doing jump rope.
"Thank you," I muttered. "But you don't have to do things like that for me. Anyway, I really have to go back home now. Are we going to see the Oracle?"
I couldn't hide the desperation in my voice.
He nodded. "We will. But first, you must be hungry. I'll take you down—we have plenty of food."
He took my hand, wrapped his arm around my waist, and waited for me to loop my arms around his neck. Then we jumped from branch to branch. It wasn't nearly as terrifying as I expected. Maybe because, against all logic… I trusted him.
He brought me to a massive mound of food—mostly fruits piled high like a colorful mountain. I picked through them, choosing ones that looked familiar. I bit into one that tasted almost like a mango, sweet and juicy.
"Do you all collect these together?" I asked between bites.
"Yes," he replied. "Each of us takes responsibility for hunting and gathering for the clan. We survive because we treat each other as our own."
His tone was serious, almost reverent.
Beside the food, a crystal-clear spring trickled over smooth stone, where beastly creatures took turns drinking. I hurried over, scooped water into my hands, and drank. It was the freshest water I'd ever tasted—cool, clean, and energizing.
This place really was its own living ecosystem.
"Thank you for the meal," I said, wiping my mouth. "So, should we head out and see the Oracle now?"
"Yes," Gideon said. "But you should know—the elders will be present. Our clan values the wisdom of those who have lived longer than the young ones."
"That's totally fine with me," I said, falling into step behind him.
As we walked, I paid more attention to what life in Juno looked like. On one canopy of trees, I saw mothers and older women tending to infants and children. We passed younger beast-women carrying baskets of fruit—who, of course, immediately swooned when they saw their king. I pretended not to notice.
I thought the Oracle's place would be close.
I was wrong.
We walked far, far out—past the heart of the kingdom, where the air felt thicker with moss and the sunlight filtered through more densely clustered leaves. But honestly, I didn't mind. The breeze brushed my face, the cool shade of the forest wrapped around me, and for a moment, it felt like nature was pressing pause on all my worries.
We passed a group of beast-men high in the trees, gathering fruit. One of them called out and waved to Gideon.
"Your Highness!" he shouted, his tone worried. "There is still no change. We are getting fewer harvests than before. Trees that once gave plenty are drying and dying."
Gideon's expression darkened.
"Have you tried gathering in the northern area of the kingdom?"
"Yes, sire," the man replied. "But those trees do not usually bear fruit until the next season. We keep them as reserves in times of need. I am afraid we will face shortages if we do not find a solution soon. Perhaps we should expand our gathering into the forbidden areas of the kingdom…"
He sounded like he knew it was a bad idea but was running out of options.
"No," Gideon said sharply. "It is too dangerous for our people. We may cross into other clans' territory and cause conflict we do not need."
He looked genuinely troubled.
"Hey," I said gently, "if you want to check it out for a bit, I don't mind. We're already on the way, right? And this sounds serious. I'm sure the elders and Oracle will understand if their king is a little late."
He glanced at me, gratitude flickering across his face.
We veered off the path toward a patch of land where the trees looked… sad. Their leaves were withered, the bark dull.
The first thing I noticed was how dry everything was.
"Do you take care of these trees?" I asked.
"We do not 'take care' of them," Gideon said. "We take what we are given. Mother Nature is generous."
"I see…" I crouched and ran my fingers through the soil. It crumbled like powder. "When was the last time it rained?"
"It has been a while," the man in charge of gathering replied.
I brushed the dirt off my hands and thought about a farmer who once asked me for books on agriculture and irrigation. I didn't love the topic… but I'd read enough to remember a few things.
"Just a suggestion," I said slowly, "but what if you help Mother Nature a bit? Pour water around the trees every day, or create channels to direct water to them. And maybe use leftover food waste to enrich the soil. I don't know if it will fix everything, but it might help."
Gideon stared at me with a look that made me feel like I had just grown a second head. The other man, though, looked hopeful.
"Why not?" Gideon said at last. "Try what she suggests."
"Thank you, sire. And thank you as well," the man said to me with a smile, before hurrying back to the others.
We resumed walking, and I noticed Gideon's gaze lingered on me longer than usual, thoughtful.
"How did you come up with a solution so quickly?" he asked.
"Where I come from, we have forests and farms too," I said. "Usually, if plants are dying, it's one of three things: not enough water, not enough sunlight, or poor soil."
He listened intently, as if every word mattered.
We passed men carrying dead wild hogs over their shoulders, heading deeper into the forest. I decided not to ask how they prepared them. Some things are better left unknown.
The kingdom itself was stunning—waterfalls glimmering in the distance, streams running beneath natural bridges, greenery in every direction. If it weren't for the whole 'trapped in another world' thing, it would've been the perfect vacation spot.
After a long walk, we finally arrived at a stone temple at the southern edge of Juno. The structure seemed half-grown, half-built—vines wrapping around carved pillars, moss clinging to weathered stone.
Just before we stepped inside, a sharp prick of pain shot through my wrist.
I looked down.
A word—dark, bold, like an inked tattoo—slowly formed on my skin.
FERTILITY.
…Okay. That's not creepy at all.
I was still staring at it when we entered the temple. Several women dressed in long, wide white dresses and veiled in burqas stepped forward, heads bowed.
"Your Highness," one of them said, "welcome to the Oracle's enclave. Before we proceed, we must purify the one seeking the divine's assistance."
That would be me.
Sacrifice vibes much?
Suddenly, I didn't feel so brave.
"Gideon," I whispered, "can you… come with me? Please? I'm not used to any of this."
He looked at the women. "Will that be permitted?"
They hesitated. "We do not advise it," one finally said. "But if the king commands it, we will obey."
They led me into a separate chamber and asked me to remove my clothes and change into a long, draped linen dress. Then they brought me into a spring inside the temple.
"Your body must be clean and pure to draw close to the Oracle," one of them said.
The moment I stepped into the water, they slid the dress off my shoulders and began to bathe me, their hands methodical, impersonal.
I covered myself as best I could, mortified.
"I've changed my mind! He doesn't have to come in. Or all of you can just… leave and I'll do it myself!"
No one listened. They continued their ritual as Gideon stood there, watching.
Oh my freaking God. If I'd known this was going to happen, I would've kept my mouth shut and gone alone. Do. Not. Look. Gideon.
Once they were done, they put the draped dress back on me and led us out into the main chamber.
The Oracle lay in the center of the room on a stone slab, wearing a soft, toga-like dress.
They led me forward until I was directly in front of her, then instructed me to kneel.
The veiled women took long sheer fabrics—like silk or chiffon—and instruments that resembled tambourines. They began to sing, voices weaving together in a haunting, spell-like melody.
The air shifted.
The Oracle lifted from the stone as if pulled by invisible strings. She floated, hair drifting around her, her body moving as though she were dancing on air. Glimmering lights surrounded her like dust made of stars.
Then her eyes flew open, sparkling with a strange inner light, and she slowly floated down and walked toward me.
As she drew closer, I saw her expression change—from confusion, to horror, to something like dread.
"It can't be," she whispered, her voice layered and echoing unnaturally. "How?"
She pointed at me, her face twisted with shock and revulsion.
"You bring misfortune and death," she shrieked. "You are a bad omen!"
Her hand shot forward like she meant to strike me—but before she could, the entire temple shook. The light around her flickered and died, swallowed by sudden darkness.
Then the Oracle collapsed.
Everyone froze.
Did… did she just curse me?
All I wanted was to go home—and now I was apparently some walking disaster that brought misfortune, suffering, and death. If that was the case, then the answer was simple: I needed to leave even more urgently.
I started forward to check on her, but the women in burqas rushed in and blocked me.
"Get out of our temple before the Oracle is put in more danger!" one of them snapped.
Before I knew it, they'd dragged me outside—literally throwing me out along with my things.
I stumbled, catching myself on the ground.
That was definitely not cool.
What did I do wrong this time? If I'm so dangerous, why not just help me leave? I'd happily go.
I looked down at my wrist, at the burning word etched into my skin.
FERTILITY.
Bad omen.
Misfortune and death.
"What now?" I whispered to myself, feeling more lost than ever.