The map from the old villager weighed heavy in Zed's satchel, its parchment edges frayed and stained. It had been drawn with trembling hands, each danger zone marked in sharp strokes of black ink, sigils scrawled to warn away the reckless.
He should have turned back. The old man's voice echoed in memory: "Past the Anaru River, no sane hunter treads. The lords there do not share their territory."
And yet, here he was.
The river split the land like a blade, wide and fast, its surface silver under the moonlight. Zed crossed the slick stones one step at a time, boots gripping moss as the spray cooled his face. The sound of water masked all else, but as he neared the falls, silence fell. No frogs croaked. No owls stirred. Only the roar of water, pounding endlessly.
The path ended at a cliff. The waterfall thundered down into a basin, white spray veiling the rocks. Behind the curtain of water yawned a black mouth — a cave, hidden and damp, the air spilling from it thick as breath. Zed's skin prickled. The beast map had marked this place with three slashes. A danger zone.
The Vampire Apprentice emerged soundlessly from the trees, crimson eyes gleaming. Its pale skin shone faintly in the spray, claws curling with hunger. Together, man and beast crossed into the dark.
Inside, the air shifted — stale, heavy, oppressive. His heartbeat thundered against stone walls.
The first roar shook the cavern like thunder.
The Earth Bear lumbered forward from the shadows, fur matted with soil and stone, its body massive enough to blot out the cave mouth. Its eyes glowed dull amber, breath steaming with the scent of minerals and blood. When it struck the ground with one paw, the earth cracked, sending tremors up Zed's legs.
He spun his Shadow Staff into spear form, its blade flashing silver in the gloom.
The bear lunged.
Stone shattered where it landed, claws gouging trenches. Zed rolled aside, the air exploding with dust. He slashed upward, spear carving across its flank — only to find his weapon skidding off rock-hard hide. The beast's paw backhanded him, sending him crashing into a wall. Pain ripped through his ribs. Blood filled his mouth.
The Vampire Apprentice leapt. It clung to the beast's back, fangs sinking deep. The bear roared, twisting, slamming its body into stone. Rock exploded, the ghoul-like predator hurled off, but it landed on all fours, eyes glowing hotter.
Zed forced breath through battered lungs. Shadow.
The world blurred. He vanished, reappearing five paces away as the bear's paw slammed down where he'd been. He thrust his spear forward, blade biting into the beast's joint at the knee. Blood spurted dark. The bear staggered, bellowing.
It swung its head — jaws wide enough to crush stone. Zed jammed his staff between its teeth. Wood cracked, splinters flying. His arms screamed under the pressure, bones bending to breaking. Then the Vampire Apprentice struck again, claws raking the bear's eyes. One burst in a spray of blood. The beast howled, rearing back.
Zed twisted free, reversed the staff into whip form, chains snapping loose, blades flashing. With a roar he lashed it across the bear's throat. Flesh tore, blood gushed hot over his face. The monster staggered, its head half hanging — then it collapsed, shaking the cavern.
Silence. Then his knees buckled, staff dripping crimson, his body drenched in sweat and blood alike. The Apprentice crouched beside the corpse, eyes still burning.
Zed pried free the jagged crystal from its chest, the violet core pulsing faintly. His hands shook, but he shoved it into his pouch. No time to linger. The map promised more.
And more came.
Beyond the cavern was forest again, but different — silent, oppressive, each tree twisted as if leaning away from something unseen. The mist clung low, obscuring roots. Every hair on his arms stood stiff.
The Phantom Tiger.
It emerged like mist condensing, its striped body black and silver, muscles rippling under fur that seemed to shimmer. Its eyes were not eyes but pools of pale light, and when it moved, it blurred, vanishing into shadow and reappearing elsewhere.
The forest swallowed all sound. Only his heartbeat remained.
The tiger struck from nowhere. Claws raked his back, shredding cloth and skin, blood spraying the mist. He spun, staff lashing, but it hit only fog. The beast was gone.
Another strike. His arm tore open, blood pouring.
Another. His thigh ripped.
The Phantom Tiger was everywhere and nowhere, each lunge leaving him weaker, slower. His staff dripped crimson, both his and its blood mingled.
The Vampire Apprentice hissed low, vanishing into shadows of its own, stalking. Predator against predator.
The next lunge came. Zed braced — Shadow. He blinked five paces left, the tiger's claws slicing only air. His whip snapped, blade catching its shoulder. Black blood hissed, steaming where it fell. The beast snarled, materializing fully, its form towering now, aura pressing like a storm.
Zed roared back, charging headlong. The tiger leapt, jaws wide. Staff met teeth, metal screeching. Claws raked his chest, splitting flesh, blood pouring hot. He screamed, thrust the spearhead into its gut. It howled, twisting, biting down — the staff shattered, fragments flying.
Then the Apprentice struck. From behind, its claws sank deep into the tiger's neck, fangs tearing its spine. Blood fountained black, spraying the mist. The Phantom Tiger thrashed, slammed itself into trees, but the Vampire did not let go.
Zed stumbled forward, half blind, seized the shard of his staff, and drove it into the beast's chest. Again. Again. His screams mixed with its roars until, finally, silence.
The tiger slumped, eyes dimming to black. The forest exhaled.
Zed dropped beside it, chest heaving, body torn and dripping red. The Vampire Apprentice crouched over him, its own pale body stained black with gore, red eyes burning like embers.
Together they stood, blood-drenched, corpses of lords at their feet. His staff fragments dripped crimson. His own veins burned with fire.
And though every muscle begged him to fall, his lips curled faintly.
Two Lord Beasts down.
The forest awaited more.