The stone creatures that surrounded the coffin began to move.
The Adze statue twisted at the waist, its eyes glowing with a malevolent red light.
The immense Mokele-Mbembe raised its head with a low, bone-deep rumble, shaking the ground.
The grinning Chaneques hopped off their pedestals, their carved features twisted into a menacing sneer.
They were no longer statues. They were guardians. Their purpose was clear: to protect the sleeping sorcerer.
"Run!" Leonotis yelled, but it was too late.
The creatures moved with terrifying speed.
The Adze launched itself into the air, claws outstretched.
The Mokele-Mbembe stomped forward, its massive feet pulverizing the dust-covered earth with each step.
The Chaneques darted between its legs, small forms a blur of motion.
Leonotis ripped his root-sword from the ground.
The thorny vines that had held Low dissolved back into the earth.
Low let out a furious roar, her instincts overwhelming any fear.
Jacqueline raised her hands.
A torrent of water swirled in the air before her, forming a shield of clear, shimmering force.
Zombiel, clutching his chest, felt something inside him flicker with a frantic light.
He had been so mesmerized by the coffin's promise that he had failed to see the danger.
The battle had begun.
The Adze's screech tore through the air as it lunged, its sharp claws slicing through the space where Leonotis had been a moment before.
He was already moving.
"Jacqueline! Low! Now!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.
With a powerful roar, Low charged the Mokele-Mbembe.
Her werebear-enhanced strength surged. The stone monster was immense, but she hit it with the force of a battering ram.
Meanwhile, Jacqueline's hands danced in the air, weaving her water magic into a graceful, deadly ballet.
She sent a concentrated stream of water hurtling toward a trio of grinning Chaneques.
They hissed and spat fire, but the liquid doused their flames with a sizzle, turning their bodies to cooled, hissing rock.
As Leonotis fought off the winged Adze, he felt a sharp tremor behind him.
A Chaneque had crept around his flank, leaping toward his back.
He braced himself, knowing he couldn't turn his back on the Adze.
Then, a powerful heat washed over him.
A flash of orange light shimmered as the Chaneque's form began to melt.
It wasn't water.
He turned just in time to see Zombiel, eyes glowing with fiery light, hands trembling.
The salamander ghost had granted him fire magic.
The stone Chaneque dissolved into a puddle of molten rock, the air thick with the smell of scorched earth.
Leonotis nodded, pride in his eyes.
"Low! Smash a path! We can't fight them all!"
Low, still grappling with the Mokele-Mbembe, let out a final, deafening roar.
Her body pulsed with power, her werebear form pushing against the last of her human restraint.
With one devastating strike, she threw herself against the stone beast.
The Mokele-Mbembe groaned, a long, cracking sound echoing through the village, before shattering, sending rock flying in all directions.
A clear path, strewn with rubble, lay before them.
They didn't hesitate. Leonotis, Jacqueline, and Zombiel sprinted through the gap.
Low, trembling with exhaustion, followed right behind.
The remaining statues gave chase briefly, but the children were too fast.
They disappeared into the shadows of the Baobab forest, leaving the shattered guardians behind.
The coffin, however, remained untouched.
Its luminous gems pulsed with an intoxicating, silent glow.
Breathing heavily, the children ran until the towering Baobabs no longer cast long, sinister shadows over the village.
Finally, they collapsed in a clearing, the distant sounds of the shattered stone guardians fading into the quiet rustle of the savannah grass.
Hearts pounding, bodies aching—they were free.
Low, strength spent, lay on her back, staring at the twilight sky.
"It was beautiful," she whispered, voice raw. "That coffin… it was a beautiful lie."
The memory of its pulsing gems and sacred runes, a tempting offer of rest from her curse, lingered in her mind.
Jacqueline sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her water magic a gentle, calming pulse around her.
"It felt like a promise of something perfect," she said softly. "Something easy."
Leonotis, his root-sword propped against his knee, looked at his friends, a new and heavy understanding in his eyes.
He thought of the trees and their ancient, patient wisdom.
They had watched Bekeel's folly, a king so desperate for a beautiful end that he forgot to live.
"That's it," he said, a gentle exhale. "That's the lesson."
Zombiel, the glow in his eyes fading back to normal, nodded.
He thought of the coffin's promise to give his undead life purpose.
But the fight had shown him a different truth.
His purpose wasn't to find an answer in a beautiful coffin, but to stand with his friends, a burning salamander spirit within him ready to protect them.
Zombiel's eyes flickered in the fading light, thoughts still lingering on the coffin.
"It promised peace," he said softly. "But it was just a lie. There's no peace in avoiding life."
They sat in silence for a long moment, absorbing the weight of the lesson.
The struggles they faced—Low's curse, Jacqueline's secret, Leonotis's amnesia, and Zombiel's new life—were not to be escaped, but embraced as part of the journey.
The coffin had promised a painless end, but the messy reality of life was worth fighting for.
As the last rays of the sun bled into the horizon, they stood and continued their journey.
Leaving the village—and the coffin—behind, their hearts carried the unshakeable truth: life was the greatest treasure of all.