Deep within the jungle's emerald heart, where light filtered through colossal canopies and roots rose like walls, two lithe figures moved in silence—Kara and Moro, hunters of the Vhalar.
The Vhalar were an ancient race, native to this verdant world and shaped by its relentless wilderness. Tall and sinewy, their skin bore patterns of bioluminescent markings that pulsed faintly with their emotions—soft green for caution, bright amber for urgency, deep violet for fear. Their elongated limbs and double-jointed legs gave them a panther-like grace, ideal for scaling cliffs, weaving through trees, and disappearing into undergrowth.
Eyes adapted for night glowed softly beneath bone-framed brows, and retractable quill-like barbs adorned their forearms—natural weapons honed through centuries of evolution. They wore garb made from woven moss, cured hide, and glimmering beetle-shells, blending into the jungle like shadows.
Their society was built on survival, harmony with the wild, and reverence for the ancestral spirits said to dwell in stone, water, and wind. The Vhalar had no knowledge of stars or galaxies, only the sacred lore passed down in carved glyphs and whispered dreams.
Kara moved first, crouching low.
"I hear something," she whispered, the emerald glow on her cheeks brightening. "A roar… not beast, not thunder. Something wrong. From the sky."
Moro stilled beside her, his hand on the soil.
He felt it—a deep, unnatural tremor beneath the earth, beneath the song of birds and the cascade of distant waterfalls.
Without speaking further, they turned and darted through the underbrush toward their secret perch behind the Great Veil—a towering waterfall that shrouded their village, its mist and thunder masking their movements from rival clans and stalking predators.
They slipped into the hollow beneath the falls, breathing hard, bioluminescence dimming to a cautious green. Then they saw it.
The sky above the forest had darkened.
A massive shape tore through the clouds—a ship, vast and pulsing with arcane light. It floated in silence, humming with a deep resonance that made the trees shiver. Its surface was etched with alien symbols, and strange lines of energy crawled across its hull like veins of fire.
Kara gripped her spear tight.
"Is it a beast of the old world? A sky-giant? One of the forgotten gods?"
Moro's markings turned a sharp violet.
"It is not alive like us. It does not breathe, yet it moves. It smells of cold metal and old death. From the sky… but it is no spirit we have ever honored."
The vast ship lingered in the atmosphere, casting a long, flickering shadow over the trees, as if watching.
"We must tell the clan," Moro said, urgency shaking his voice. "Before rival scouts see. If they think we brought it—"
"—they'll strike first," Kara finished grimly.
They vanished once more into the jungle, melting into foliage and shadow until they reached the Veil's base. Behind the crashing torrent of water, the village shimmered—a living city sculpted into the cliffside, connected by hanging bridges, vine lifts, and glowing crystal lanterns.
At its heart sat Zalor, their elder, robed in silken moss and bone talismans. The chamber walls were painted with pictographs—battles fought, spirits encountered, beasts slain, and warnings etched in spirals.
Kara and Moro knelt before him, panting, soaked, and wide-eyed.
"A giant of metal and light," Kara said. "It fell from the sky and hovers still. It sees us."
Zalor's four-fingered hands clenched around his staff, the crystal atop it glowing faintly in response to his breath.
"In the time before the cliffs broke," he said slowly, "our ancestors told of fire-creatures and spirits of silence. The Forgotten Flame. Never seen. Always feared. Now… one has come."
He stood, his towering form framed by flickering shadows.
"We will not greet it with spears. We will not wake the old fear too quickly. Let it show what it is—beast, god, or ghost. Until then, we remain unseen."
Outside, above the canopies and cliffs, the alien vessel hung like a second sun—silent, immense, and watching.
To the Vhalar, it was not a ship.
It was a sign.
And nothing in the jungle would ever be the same again.