We leave the oasis at dawn, when the sun is still low and pale, barely peeking above the horizon. The air is cool for once, brushing against my skin instead of scorching it, but I know better than to trust that comfort. In this world, calm never lasts.
The desert stretches behind us for miles, a vast sea of gold slowly swallowed by distance. Ahead, the land begins to change.
Sand gives way to soil.
At first it is subtle. Sparse patches of grass cling to the ground. Then shrubs. Then trees. Before long, towering trunks rise around us, their canopies interlocking overhead. Sunlight filters through the leaves in broken fragments, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor.
The jungle is alive.
Humidity presses against my skin almost immediately, thick and clinging. The air smells of damp earth, sap, and something faintly sweet that I cannot place. Insects chirp and buzz from every direction, a constant, maddening hum. Leaves rustle even when there is no wind.
With every step, it feels like the jungle is watching us.
I roll my shoulders as we move, muscles still sore from yesterday. Bruises ache beneath my skin, flaring with each careless movement. My body feels heavier here, like the air itself is resisting me.
Tricky moves ahead of me, alert and focused. Her wings are bound tightly in fresh bandages, though faint stains of dried blood remain. She tries to hide it, but I can tell she is still hurting. Her posture is tense, her senses sharp.
We do not speak much.
The jungle does not feel like a place that welcomes noise.
The first attack comes without warning.
Something lunges from the undergrowth to my left, a blur of motion and snapping teeth. I barely have time to react before instinct takes over. I twist aside, feeling claws rake through the air where my chest had been moments ago.
My heart slams violently against my ribs.
The creature hits the ground hard, skidding across damp soil. It scrambles upright with a shrill, distorted shriek. Its body is wrong. Twisted. Limbs bent at unnatural angles. Its eyes glow faintly in the shadow.
A hater.
It charges again.
I brace myself, legs screaming in protest as I plant my feet. The ground is slick beneath me, roots and vines threatening to trip me with every step. When it swings, I duck and drive my elbow into its side.
Pain explodes up my arm.
The impact jars me to the bone, but the creature staggers back, hissing. I do not give it time to recover. I step forward and strike again, harder this time, forcing it into the dirt.
It does not stay down.
Another screech erupts from behind me.
Then another.
They begin to emerge from the foliage, slipping between trees and crawling over roots, their misshapen forms blending unnervingly well with the jungle. My breath comes faster. Too fast.
This is not like the desert.
There is no open space here. No clear lines of sight. Every direction is danger.
"Astro!" Tricky calls.
She raises a hand and purple energy coils around her fingers. With a sharp gesture, she releases it. Black and violet flames spiral outward, ripping through the air toward the advancing creatures.
The fire roars.
Heat slams into me from behind, scorching my back and forcing the breath from my lungs. The flames consume everything in their path. Leaves curl and blacken. Vines ignite. The haters scream as they are swallowed whole.
"Tricky, stop!" I shout, throwing an arm up instinctively. "You'll burn the entire jungle!"
For a heartbeat, the fire continues.
Then it vanishes.
The sudden absence of heat leaves my skin tingling painfully. Smoke drifts through the trees, stinging my eyes and throat. Tricky lowers her hand, horror flickering across her face.
"I did not think," she says quietly. "I am sorry."
There is no time to respond.
The jungle does not allow pauses.
More haters surge forward, drawn by the chaos. I grit my teeth and move, body screaming as fatigue claws at me. My movements are slower now. Less precise. Each dodge costs more than the last.
A creature slams into me from the side.
We crash into the dirt together. The impact knocks the wind from my lungs, pain flaring across my ribs. I gasp, clawing for air as it scrambles atop me, its weight crushing.
I shove with everything I have, barely managing to roll free as its claws scrape across my chest. I stagger upright, vision swimming, and barely manage to raise my arms before another attack comes.
Tricky's magic surges again.
This time, the ground itself responds.
Spectral hands claw their way up from the soil, translucent and twisted, grabbing at legs and torsos. The haters shriek as they are dragged down, their bodies swallowed by the earth.
I do not feel victorious.
I feel exhausted.
We fight like this for hours.
There is no clean break. No clear victory. Just constant motion. Constant threat. Every step forward is paid for in pain and breath. Sweat soaks through my clothes. My arms tremble with each strike. Bruises deepen. Small cuts sting as humidity seeps into them.
When the jungle finally grows quiet, I can barely stand.
We reach the temple just as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky.
It rises from the jungle like a forgotten relic, stone walls choked with moss and vines. Carvings stretch across its surface, worn smooth by time yet still intricate enough to tell stories.
I step closer, drawn despite my exhaustion.
The carvings depict figures kneeling before something massive. A towering form looms above them, abstract yet unmistakably divine. Offerings are laid at its feet. Food. Treasure. Lives.
Reverence. Fear. Devotion.
I trace the stone with trembling fingers, trying to understand.
"What do you see?" Tricky asks.
"A god," I say quietly. "Or something they believed was one."
She nods. "Then this place matters."
We find the hidden mechanism together. When the elevator rises from the earth, stone grinding against stone, I feel a chill run through me.
Descending into the darkness is like falling into another world.
When the doors open again, I am not prepared.
The underground city stretches before us in breathtaking scale. Towers rise high into the cavern ceiling, their surfaces alive with bioluminescent plants. Light pulses softly through the streets. Demi humans of countless forms move through the city, talking, trading, living.
I forget to breathe.
"This is… unreal," I whisper.
Tricky stares as well. "Even I did not know this existed."
The wonder does not last.
Guards stop us before we can take ten steps.
Their armor gleams. Their presence is heavy. When they question us, I feel the tension coil tight in my chest. One wrong word. One wrong move.
Tricky holds herself with practiced control, but I can sense her readiness beneath it. Magic hums faintly around her.
When Okayu arrives, the shift is immediate.
The guards bow. The air changes.
She does not raise her voice. She does not threaten.
She does not need to.
Her gaze alone weighs on me like a physical force. When she speaks, curiosity masks authority, and that is somehow more unsettling.
When she offers help, I accept because I see no better choice.
The limousine ride feels surreal. The hotel feels like a dream layered atop another dream.
That night, lying in a bed too soft for someone as bruised and battered as I am, I stare at the ceiling and let everything sink in.
The jungle.
The city.
Okayu.
Nothing about this world is simple.
But for the first time, I feel like survival is no longer my only goal.
Something bigger is beginning.