Julian and Lys started to work no longer the moment Lys had gotten the grasp of the situation. They decided to go on a hunt, both scouring the terrain for the ever-present food problem and scouting for potential dangers.
Lysander moved carefully between roots thick as pillars, boots sinking slightly into damp soil layered over stone. Every step felt loud to him, even when Julian gestured that it was fine. The bioluminescent moss clinging to the walls cast uneven light, turning every shadow into something that might move.
They were hunting, but neither truly knew how. Julian had experience with the blade, obviously, but didn't really know how to apply that technique to hunting. Lysander was— well, obvious.
Julian, as the Spiritualist, took the lead. He was crouched low, and his eyes scanned for disturbances rather than prey. Lysander followed a few steps behind, imitating the posture with only partial success.
His grip on the crude spear they had fashioned tightened whenever a sound echoed too close. I miss my long sword, Lysander thought.
A rustle.
Both froze.
Julian raised a fist.
Lysander stopped instantly— perhaps, even too abruptly, in fact, nearly losing his balance before steadying himself against a tree-root formation. Ahead, something moved through the underbrush.
The beast emerged slowly, as if testing the air.
It was a squat, thick-bodied creature with a layered hide like overlapping bark plates. Four legs dug into the soil with blunt claws, and a ridged horn curved forward from its skull. It snorted, breath steaming faintly despite the humid air.
Despite the hunched posture of the creature, it was easily two meters high, and there was no identifiable eye underneath the layer of bark plates. Both Lys and Julian crouched low, approximately twenty meters from it, afraid of breathing too loudly.
Julian leaned in, whispering just enough to be heard. "If it charges, we split."
Lysander nodded.
They advanced in a shallow arc, Julian drawing its attention with a tossed stone while Lysander circled wide. The plan unraveled almost immediately. The creature turned too quickly, horn lowering as it thundered toward Lysander instead.
"Shit— Lys, move!"
Lys immediately dashed away, even before the signal, but it was too late.
The creature slammed forward with shocking speed, horn tearing through undergrowth. Lysander leapt backward as the horn carved through the space where his chest had been, the impact splitting a tree root with a sound like cracking bone.
Crap.
He hit the ground hard, rolling as the beast's bulk thundered past. Dirt filled his mouth. The creature skidded, claws gouging deep furrows into the soil, then twisted with terrifying momentum.
There were indeed no eyes, but years of hunting in the darkness of this cave taught it to rely on other senses.
The horn came again, low and brutal.
Lysander rolled aside just as it struck, the horn smashing into the ground and sending a shockwave through his arms and teeth. He scrambled up, legs slipping in the churned mud.
"Lys, keep it facing you!" Julian shouted.
The beast snorted again, steam hissing from between bark plates. It lowered its head and charged straight at him.
Lysander sprinted.
He veered just enough that the horn grazed past him, the layered hide brushing his shoulder like a moving wall. The impact still threw him sideways, pain flaring through his ribs as he tumbled and rolled.
He came up on one knee.
The creature was already turning.
It moved like a battering ram given legs: it was slow to redirect, but unstoppable and crushing once connected with its target. Its claws dug in, bark plates grinding as it pushed forward again.
Lysander's eyes darted across the ground.
There.
A fallen branch—no, bone. Long, pale, hardened by time. He snatched it up as the beast charged once more.
The horn swept toward him. The creature stood back on its back legs and lunged at him with its front limbs in a crushing bind.
Just as this realization dawned on Lysander, he desperately rolled to the side. In the next moment, the creature lunged down, sending small tremors through the mud. If not for his quick reaction, Lysander's chest would have been caved in by that blow.
He was just beginning to stand up when one of the creature's longer front limbs swiped sideways. Luckily, Lysander was ready: instead of trying to dodge or block the attack, he went with it, letting the limb collide with his outstretched hands and cushioning the blow.
As his arms screamed in pain and simultaneously dampened the pain rapidly, Lysander used the force of the blow and allowed his body to be sent flying through the air. This way, at least, he would get out of the creature's range.
He might not have been taught how to fight, but one thing he knew very well was how to fall!
Instead of breaking his neck or having the breath beaten out of him by the landing, he braced his body and nimbly rolled before stopping some distance away from the ambushing monster.
The creature once again started a deadly charge at Lysander, slowly regaining his momentum. Coldly sweating, Lys calmed his shaking hands. Fear is the killer of reason, he thought, find a plan, find an opportunity to exploit—
There
He saw it, a glimpse of Julian approaching behind the creature, carefully not alarming it, but at the same time matching its charge towards Lys, a makeshift spear in his hand, waiting to discharge.
A crazy idea formed in Lys's head.
Putting all his life in Julian's hands, instead of dodging away, Lysander stepped inside the creature's range.
"SHOOT IT NOW!" he shouted to Julian.
Not quite reacting to his command yet, Julian hesitated for a second, which allowed the beast to land a blow on Lys.
The impact was brutal. The horn slammed into his torso, driving the air from his lungs. Something cracked. He felt himself lifted off the ground as the beast pushed forward, pinning him against its own mass.
The pressure was crushing.
His vision swam.
Then a shadow flashed.
Julian struck from the side, spear slamming into a seam between bark plates. The sound was dull, ineffective. The beast recoiled, its weight shifting.
That was the opening.
Lysander thrusted his own spear, directly upward, jamming it into a narrow gap beneath the creature's horn, where the bark plates overlapped imperfectly. His vision was shattering rapidly, reality becoming brittle and revealing a world beneath its cracks.
Through the cracks, he found the creature's weakness.
He twisted.
The creature bellowed, a deep, splintering sound that vibrated through the ground. Its legs buckled. The massive body collapsed sideways, shaking the jungle floor as it came crashing down.
Lysander fell with it, gasping, chest burning.
BLOOD! GLORY TO THE WINNER! The cacophony of Voices cheered.
For several seconds, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the slow settling of disturbed soil.
Julian staggered over. "You're fucking crazy."
Lysander coughed, then laughed weakly. "There goes my fully healed body."
Moments of silence passed as Lysander sat with his back against a jagged root, breathing through clenched teeth, watching as Julian packed the carcass of the creature to bring back to camp readily.
The fight had ended, but the jungle had not quieted. The leaves are still trembling in the distance, and somewhere deeper in the forest, something heavy shifted its weight. The aftermath of violence lingered in the air, such as blood, crushed moss, and lots of disturbance. All of it carried sound and scent.
Too much of both.
Julian stood a few steps away, spear lowered but not sheathed, slowly turning in place as he surveyed the surroundings. His movements were measured, deliberate, the kind that came from knowing that most deaths happened after a fight, not during it.
"Stay awake," Julian said quietly. "If something comes, I need you responsive."
"I'm not dying," Lysander muttered, though his left side throbbed badly enough to disagree. "Just… reconsidering my life choices."
Julian shot him a glance. "Do that later."
A low rustle came from the undergrowth to their right. Julian tensed instantly, shifting his stance. Lysander forced himself to straighten despite the pain, eyes tracking the movement. After a long second, whatever it was withdrew, the sound fading into the layered ambience of the jungle.
Julian exhaled slowly.
"We can't stay on the ground," he said. "There is too much noise from the fight, too much blood as well, so it might attract beasts. It is best if we bring this thing back to the camp as fast as possible."
Before Lysander could argue, Julian stepped in, crouched, and hauled him up with surprising ease. Lysander hissed as pressure flared along his ribs, instinctively grabbing Julian's shoulder to steady himself.
"Warn me next time," Lysander said.
"Maybe."
Julian moved quickly, boots finding purchase on stone and bark alike. The tree — if it could be called that — was a twisted pillar of petrified wood and living vine, its branches thick enough to support weight. In seconds, they were above the forest floor, partially concealed by broad, leaf-like growths.
Julian set Lysander down on a natural crook in the trunk and immediately went to work, tearing cloth and peeling back damaged layers.
"Hold still."
"I am holding still."
Julian ignored him.
The damage was worse up close. Deep bruising along the ribs, shallow lacerations across the arms, and one small puncture near the thigh where a jagged edge had bitten through the protection of the leather armour. It was nothing fatal. At the same time, it was nothing clean, either.
"You're lucky," Julian said. "A little deeper and this would've been a problem."
"Everything here is a problem," Lysander replied, "Though thanks for the optimism."
Julian didn't answer. He finished binding the worst of it and leaned back slightly—
Then froze.
"Lys," he said under his breath. "Don't move."
Lysander stilled instantly. "That bad?"
"No, look. Look in that direction." Pointing to somewhere behind Lys
Lysander followed Julian's finger.
Between the hanging vines and drifting mist, something shimmered.
At first, it seemed like heat distortion. Then the air bent, flowing inward and forming a vague, drifting shape. Light pooled around it unnaturally, refracting into soft, wavering colors. The jungle sounded quieter nearby, as if sound itself hesitated to approach.
It was a skeletal, hunched figure with long arms ending in vicious claws and a deformed, reptilian skull for a head, featuring a wide mouth full of razor-sharp fangs. It was an ethereal, ghastly being, like something you might miss if you looked away and then looked back. Animated by an unseen force, it appeared almost like a living skeleton. It wore a torn shroud that was once white but had long since turned brown from the dry blood.
It loomed just above the forest floor, partly hidden, unmistakably drawn toward the site of the earlier battle.
Lysander felt it immediately.
His heartbeat sped up, and deep inside him, something leaned forward. The familiar pressure returned—a watchful, patient pressure pressing against his mind.
Julian noticed the change instantly.
"You feel it," he said quietly.
Lysander nodded. "It's… close. Not just physically."
Julian's eyes narrowed as he watched the spirit move. "It's cautious. Stronger than usual but still of First Order." A pause. Then, carefully: "If we're going to do this, it should be now."
Lysander looked at him. "You mean—"
"I mean hunt it," Julian said. "And let you assimilate it."
The spirit drifted slightly closer, as if listening. Lysander's injuries throbbed in protest, but his mind was clear.
He swallowed. "I'm not exactly in peak condition." He then added, after a weak laugh, "Then again, I am never sure. Not really."
He shifted his grip on his blade and looked back down at the forest floor, already planning paths, angles, and contingencies.
"Stay quiet," Julian said. "Recover what you can. Once it commits, we move."
And inside Lysander, an ancient, deep rumble of a laugh—unusually deep and intelligent for a Voice—rang out, as if excited.