The forest swallowed Victor the moment Mira and Thorian left him. The weight of their absence pressed down harder than he expected. Alone, the quiet was not peaceful but sharp, alive with the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, the unseen scurry of creatures in the underbrush.
He turned in a slow circle, his eyes tracing the towering trunks around him. Everything looked the same—endless pillars of gray bark, ferns crowding the ground, patches of moss drinking in the morning light. His gut twisted. He could wander for hours and never know if he was moving in circles.
Food. Water. Shelter. Mira's instructions repeated in his head like a mantra.
Victor crouched low, sweeping aside leaf litter. Ants moved in neat lines. Beetles wriggled under rotting bark. Not much use to him—unless he became desperate. He grimaced and stood, scanning higher. Small birds darted between branches above, a good sign. Birds needed water nearby.
He started walking, trying to move quietly as Mira had taught him—heel to toe, avoiding brittle twigs. It wasn't perfect, but the forest didn't explode with noise at his every step. After a time, he found a faint trail pressed into the earth. Hoof prints, not boots. The dirt was softer here, the grass bent. He remembered something Thorian had said: "Follow where the animals go. They know where to drink before you do."
The trail led him to a shallow stream cutting through the rocks. The water moved clear and steady, not stagnant. He crouched, checked upstream for any sign of dead animals or rot, then drank with cupped hands. The chill stung his teeth, but it cleared the fog in his mind.
One thing done.
He scanned the trees for a place to rest if night came early. A fallen trunk leaned against a slope, its underside hollow. Moss and dry leaves could make insulation. It wasn't much, but it would keep him out of the wind.
For a moment, pride sparked in his chest. Maybe he could do this.
The feeling vanished when the forest fell silent.
Not quiet like before—empty. The birds were gone. Even the insects had stilled. His skin prickled. Something was watching.
He slowly rose to his feet, heart pounding. A branch snapped. Movement flickered in the shadows.
They emerged from between the trees—three lean shapes, low to the ground. Not wolves, though close enough at first glance. Their fur was mottled gray and green, patterned like lichen. Ears angled back, eyes reflecting a pale, amber glow. Their bodies were thinner than wolves, built for speed, and their tails were long and whip-like, flicking with tension.
Victor's breath caught. He had seen nothing like them in his world, but here they looked perfectly at home. Camouflage hunters. Ambush predators.
They fanned out, silent and patient.
Don't run. Running makes you prey.
He forced himself to stay still, though his legs screamed to bolt. He backed toward the stream, keeping his eyes on the largest of the creatures. It lowered its head, lips peeling back to reveal narrow fangs.
Victor searched the ground. A rock, half-buried near his boot. He snatched it up, his hand shaking. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.
The pack leader stepped closer. Its muscles tensed.
Something stirred in Victor's chest. A pulse—like when he tried to sense magic with Mira. Only this time, it wasn't forced. It was as if the forest itself pressed against him, seeping into his bones, quickening with his heartbeat. His vision sharpened; every breath of the creatures, every shift of their paws against dirt, rang clear.
The leader lunged.
Victor shouted—not words, not a spell, just raw fear and defiance. The pulse inside him burst outward. Air rippled. Leaves shuddered. The stream splashed as though struck.
The creatures skidded back, ears pinned flat. For a heartbeat, they stared at him—not with hunger, but recognition. Then, one by one, they melted into the undergrowth, vanishing as silently as they had come.
Victor collapsed to his knees, gasping. His hands trembled, the rock slipping from his grip. Whatever had just happened—it hadn't been the spells Mira drilled into him. No incantations, no gestures. It had been… instinct.
"Not bad."
Victor flinched. Mira stepped from the trees, her braid swinging, Thorian a quiet shadow behind her.
"You—you were watching?" Victor's voice cracked with fury. "You left me with those things?"
Mira's expression stayed calm, though her eyes flicked to the place where the creatures had been. "The forest tests everyone. We only watched to see how you'd answer."
Thorian studied him, unreadable, though his gaze lingered on Victor's hands. "You didn't use what Mira taught you."
"I didn't do anything!" Victor snapped. "It just—happened. Like the forest pushed through me."
Silence. Mira and Thorian exchanged a look, a silent exchange heavier than words. Finally, Mira spoke:
"Then Aeloria itself is beginning to recognize you."
Victor froze. "Recognize me? What does that even mean?"
Thorian's voice was low. "It means your survival here is no longer just training. The world is answering back. And that… can be dangerous."
A chill spread through Victor, sharper than any predator's stare. He had wanted answers, but somehow, the truth felt even heavier than the unknown