The jungle's still hummin' after that beast went down, its blood soakin' the earth, mixin' with the rot of them undead trails left by Valthor's scouts. I'm standin' there, breathin' heavy, scales recedin' but leavin' a burn under my skin from that poison and the fight's toll.
Elara's beside me, her hand lingerin' on my arm, heartstone glowin' faint as it soothes the gashes on my leg, them green eyes searchin' mine like she's beggin' me to trust her after that scout's betrayal stung. Sable's leanin' 'gainst a gnarled tree, blood crusted on her side despite the bond's faint help, her panther eyes glintin' with pain and a fierce, unyieldin' pride. The tribe's quiet, tendin' wounds with crushed leaves and low, guttural chants, their spears propped 'gainst trunks. That amulet's roarin' 'gainst my chest, its whisper—"Touch the throne!"—drivin' me mad with its relentless pull. Valthor's close, I can smell his dark magic—like death and ash—and them ruins ahead pulse with the Scaled Throne's call, yankin' at me like a damn chain 'round my soul.
Elara straightens, voice soft but edged with urgency. "We can't stay—Valthor's comin'. His magic's thickenin' the air." I nod, rubbin' the amulet, its heat mixin' with the doubt gnawin' at me—was it her or Sable who tipped off that scout? Sable growls, shiftin' half-panther, her tail flickin' with irritation. "Jungle'll hide us, but it ain't safe. Perils lurk—vines that kill, beasts that guard, old magic that hungers." I grunt, flexin' my claws, the beast stirrin' again, its hunger risin' with every pulse of the amulet. The tribe gathers, warriors grippin' spears tight, faces set, and we move out, vines slidin' shut behind us like they're sealin' our fate—or trappin' us deeper.
The jungle swallows us fast, trees towerin' with bark that glows a sickly green, roots twistin' like livin' snakes underfoot, trippin' me 'til I curse—crossed it out, damn it—and steady myself. The air's thick, humid, stinkin' of rot, sweet flowers, and a feral musk that sets my nerves on edge. My senses sharpen—amber eyes glintin' in the shadows, rustlin' leaves that ain't from the wind, a low growl echoin' somewhere ahead. The amulet pulses, guidin' us toward them ruins, and I feel it—the throne's pull, deep in my chest, mixin' with the beast's restless growl. Elara's close, her runes flarin' as she scans the path, and I catch her glance—hurt, maybe, or somethin' deeper I ain't ready to face. The ritual with Sable flashes in my mind—her claws diggin' in, her heat pressin' 'gainst me—and guilt stabs me, but the beast purrs, rememberin' every damn second. I shake it off, focusin' on the trail, but it's hard with her scent still lingerin'.
Then it hits—vines snap out, thorny and fast, wrappin' 'round my leg like a livin' trap, their barbs sinkin' deep. I roar, stumblin' to one knee, claws rippin' at 'em, but they regrow, squeezin' tighter, thorns pumpin' poison that burns like molten lead. My head spins with flashes—thrones glintin' green, claws slashin' air, Elara's face twistin' in fear or betrayal. "Magic vines!" Elara yells, heartstone glowin' brighter as she chants, a ward flarin' with golden light to burn 'em back. Sable leaps, claws tearin' through, fur bristlin' as she fights with a snarl, but more vines lash out, catchin' a warrior by the ankle, draggin' him screamin' into the undergrowth. His cry cuts off with a wet crunch, leavin' a silence that chills my blood. My heart pounds, and I charge, tail swingin' to smash 'em, but they're relentless, regrowin' faster than I can tear, their poison makin' my vision blur with rage.
I fight on, roarin', scales pushin' out as the poison fuels the beast's fury. Elara's light holds 'em off long enough for me to break free, blood tricklin' down my leg, mixin' with the vine's sap.
The warrior's gone, swallowed by the jungle's maw, and my gut sinks—lost one already, and we ain't even to the ruins. Sable hisses, blood streakin' her fur, shiftin' back to human with a groan. "Old ones' traps," she growls. "Alive with magic—feed on blood, grow stronger." I nod, pantin', feelin' the poison burn, but the bond with her kicks in, a warm pulse steadyin' my heart some. Elara's at my side, hand on my arm, her touch cool 'gainst the fire in my veins. "You alright?" she asks, voice soft, almost tender. I grunt, "Yeah," but the doubt lingers—was she part of this, settin' that trap with a smile?
We press on, the jungle growin' darker, trees leanin' in like they're plottin' our doom, their branches creakin' with a sound like laughter. The amulet burns hotter, and I see it—ruins ahead, half-buried, scales carved into stone glowin' faint, promisin' power or death. The throne's near, I can feel it, but so's danger. A roar splits the air, deep and guttural, shakin' the ground under my boots 'til dirt dances. My heart skips, and I tense, claws ready. Sable's ears flick, eyes narrowin'. "Beast," she whispers. "Jungle guardian—old and mean, tied to the ruins."
It bursts out—massive, scaled, like a lizard but with horns curlin' back and a maw full of jagged teeth that gleam wet. Its eyes glow red, and it charges, tail whip pin' trees aside like twigs, roots snappin' under its weight. I transform, scales coverin' me, and roar back, meetin' it head-on with a clash that jars my bones. My claws slash, rippin' its hide, blood spillin' black, but it's strong, slammin' me into a trunk with a crack that makes me see stars. Pain sears, and I growl—crossed it out, hell—staggerin' up, blood in my mouth mixin' with the poison's bite. Elara fires arrows, heartstone amplifyin' 'em with light that pierces its scales, and Sable leaps, claws diggin' into its back, her snarl matchin' mine. The tribe joins, spears thrustin', but it thrashes, takin' down another warrior with a swipe that crunches bone, his body crumplin' like a rag.
I rally, tail lashin' its legs, and we force it down, my claws sinkin' into its neck as it roars. With a final heave, I snap it, blood spillin' hot and thick, steam risin' in the humid air. It collapses, and I pant, scales glintin' with sweat, the poison and fight leavin' me shaky, my legs tremblin' under me. Elara rushes over, heal in' light from the heartstone soothin' my cuts, her hands tremblin' as she works. Sable shifts back, bleedin' but alive, and nods. "Good fight," she grunts, wipin' blood from her mouth with a grimace. I nod back, feelin' the bond strengthen, a warm thread between us, but the doubt's still there—her loyalty, or someone else's deceit lurkin' in the shadows.
The ruins loom closer, and the amulet screams—"Touch the throne!"—visions floodin' me—lizard gods with eyes like suns, Valthor's sneer twistin' with malice, the scout's laugh echoin' like a ghost. My head spins, and I lean on Elara, her warmth steadyin' me 'gainst the poison's haze and the throne's pull. "Was it you?" I mutter, voice rough, eyes lockin' on hers, searchin' for truth. She flinches, tears wellin', her hand clutchin' the heartstone. "No, Job. I swear—on the heartstone, on my life." I want to believe her, seein' the pain there, but the sting of betrayal from that scout's words—"Not my tribe—yours"—haunts me, makin' my gut twist. Sable watches, silent, her gaze hard but unreadable, her breath ragged.
The jungle rustles, and I smell it—undead rot, Valthor's magic closin' in like a storm, thick and suffocatin'. Sable growls, tribe readyin' weapons, spears glintin' in the faint light filterin' through the canopy. The ruins pulse, throne's call growin' louder, a drumbeat in my skull, and I know we're runnin' out of time. I grip my claws, standin' tall, the beast and man warin' inside, each step a battle 'gainst the poison, the doubt, the pull. This jungle's a damn gauntlet—vines that kill with a whisper, beasts that guard with a roar, and a traitor whose shadow stretches long. The amulet hums, promisin' power, but also danger, and I brace myself, knowin' every move's a gamble. Trust, survival, or the throne's hunger—it's all on the line, and the night ain't done with us yet.