Chapter 8 – Secrets of the Forbidden Forest
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Morning mist blanketed the Forbidden Forest, heavy and suffocating. The ancient trees towered like walls of shadow, their roots twisting across the earth like serpents. From the distance came howls, screeches, and the cries of things no goblin had ever named.
Altair sat at the cave's mouth, watching his ragged pack lick their wounds. The hunt from the night before had ended in disaster: two goblins dead, three others bloodied and limping. The little scraps of rotten meat they gnawed were nowhere near enough to quell their hunger.
Beside him, Lila crouched, her dark eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. Mira sat quietly at her side, her gaze anxious, hands clutching at her knees.
"We failed again," one goblin groaned bitterly. His voice was raw from hunger. "If we can't even catch a deer, how do we survive here?"
Another leaned in, his voice hushed, trembling as though he whispered forbidden truth.
"This forest… it isn't ours. Each side is guarded. There are five Guardians. And in the middle… something worse."
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At first Altair thought it was nonsense—delirium from hunger. But one after another, the goblins began muttering, repeating the old tales passed down from frightened mouths.
"In the north… the Great White Wolf. Its fur shines beneath the moon. None who enter its territory return."
"In the east… the Serpent of the Woods. Its body coils like a tree, swallowing goblins whole."
"In the south… the Fire Tiger. Its breath burns, its claws ignite."
"In the west… the Giant Owl. Its wings blot out the stars, its eyes pierce through the dark."
The goblins shivered, their voices dropping to fearful whispers.
And then came the last story, the one that silenced them all.
"At the center… the Central Ruler. No goblin has ever seen it and lived. They say it is the reason this forest is forbidden."
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Altair listened carefully, memorizing every word, every name.
"So this is the truth of the forest. Not just a wasteland for exiles. A prison. A crucible. And its keys are the five Guardians—and the one in the center."
He clenched his fists. "If I am to grow, I must face them all."
Lila turned to him, her voice low. "Altair… aren't you afraid?"
He met her gaze, eyes burning. "Afraid? Of course. But I fear something more: dying before I take my revenge. As long as I live, I will find a way to make even them bow."
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A sudden scream shattered their quiet. One of the goblins ran inside, eyes wide with terror. "From the north… wolf… it comes!"
Panic erupted. Some goblins fled to the back of the cave. Others pressed themselves against the wall, trembling.
Altair rose. From the mist beyond, a massive silhouette emerged.
A wolf—larger than any they had seen—its fur white as snow, glowing faintly in the dim light. Its golden eyes gleamed, and with each breath, the mist thickened around it.
"The White Wolf…" Mira whispered, her face pale.
Altair's jaw tightened. "The Guardian of the North. Is it here by chance… or is this our test?"
The beast padded forward, each step deliberate, its growl rumbling like thunder. The goblins whimpered, too weak to fight, too terrified to breathe.
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Altair stepped forward, raising his hand. "Don't move," he commanded. His voice shook, but he forced steel into it.
The wolf halted. Its golden gaze locked onto him.
For a long moment, predator and prey stared at one another. Its presence was suffocating—an aura of a being far beyond mere beasts. Altair felt his knees weaken, yet he refused to break eye contact.
Then, with a sharp exhale, the White Wolf snorted, turned, and vanished back into the mist.
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The cavern fell into silence. The goblins collapsed where they stood, trembling, their fear still choking the air.
Altair remained upright, though sweat poured down his face. His chest heaved with each breath.
"It could have killed us all… yet it didn't. Why? Was it mercy? Or did it see something in me?"
Lila touched his arm, her voice trembling. "Maybe… because of you, Altair. Maybe it sensed… something different."
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Altair closed his eyes, drawing in the sharp scent of the mist. When he opened them, resolve blazed in his emerald pupils.
"This forest isn't just a hunting ground. It's a prison of monsters, a proving ground. If I can conquer this forest—if I can bring down the Guardians and even the Central Ruler—then no force in the world will be able to stop me."
He turned toward his frightened pack, his voice low but fierce. "Remember this night. From this cursed forest, I will rise. And one day, even the Central Ruler itself will kneel before me."
The goblins stared at him, fear still etched in their faces, but now mingled with awe.
That night, deep within the Forbidden Forest, the legend of Altair began to grow.
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