You have my heart

The walk back to the Toquiri village should have been triumphant. The warriors carried the spoils of their victory—the massive, bloodied carcass of the wolf-like monster—and their voices were loud with celebratory chants. Jarik, despite his injuries, limped along with a grin plastered across his face, calling out jokes and jibes to his comrades.

But for Darius, Ryden, and Rice, the victory felt hollow. Their thoughts lingered on the ruin and what they had found inside—hundreds, perhaps thousands, of booklets. Each one belonged to a person who had been sent to GAIA, and every one of them shared the same grim fate.

Dead.

Rice, usually the chatterbox, trudged silently, his face unusually somber. Ryden walked with his hands in his pockets, his head down as his brow furrowed in deep thought. Darius's grip tightened on his spear thrower, his expression unreadable but his jaw clenched. None of them spoke; the weight of their discovery hung too heavy in the air between them.

As they'd stood in the ruin earlier, trying to process what they'd found, Arika had appeared behind them. She'd stepped inside the crumbling structure, her sharp eyes scanning the piles of books with quiet reverence.

"This is knowledge," she'd said simply, her voice soft but firm. "We call it the Haan'tor it is from these pages that they speak to us, from these we learned the words of your tongue and many others. The ancestors gave us this gift. It is why we can speak."

Her words had been matter-of-fact, devoid of the awe they had inspired in the three outsiders. To Arika, the books were a practical tool, a piece of history that had helped her people survive. But to Rice, Ryden, and Darius, they represented something far more unsettling: a legacy.

As the group neared the village, the warriors' chants grew louder, their spirits high. Some joked about the feast they would hold that night, while others sang songs of triumph.

But even in the midst of the celebration, Ryden suddenly stiffened, his head snapping up like a hound catching a scent. His dark eyes narrowed as he scanned the surrounding forest, and his steps slowed.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice low and tense.

"What is it?" Rice asked, his tone wary.

Ryden didn't answer immediately. His gaze darted between the trees, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his knife. Then, with a chilling certainty, he said, "Listen."

The group fell silent.

The joyous noise of the warriors seemed to hang in the air for a moment longer, but then the three outsiders noticed it too—the forest itself was unnervingly quiet. The usual hum of insects, the rustle of leaves, the chirps of birds—all of it was gone, replaced by an oppressive, unnatural stillness.

Then, from the shadows, it struck.

A sleek, panther-like creature erupted from the underbrush, its dark, scaled hide gleaming in the dappled sunlight. It moved with terrifying speed, its muscular body a blur as it darted toward the group. But what set it apart—what made it truly monstrous—was its tail.

Snakes.

Dozens of them, writhing and hissing, their fangs glinting like tiny daggers. Each serpent's head moved independently, their yellow eyes glowing with predatory malice.

The warriors scrambled, shouting in alarm as they readied their weapons. Arika shouted commands, her voice cutting through the chaos as the group formed a defensive line.

The panther-monster let out a guttural snarl, crouching low before pouncing into their ranks. It moved with a speed and ferocity that was almost impossible to track, its claws tearing through shields and spears alike. The warriors fought valiantly, their spear throwers firing off volleys, but the creature dodged and weaved, its scaled body deflecting many of the attacks.

With a powerful leap, the monster burst through the line, scattering warriors as it charged toward Arika. She met it head-on, bracing her spear as the beast lunged. Its claws clashed against her weapon with a sound like metal striking stone, sparks flying as she held firm.

But the snakes weren't idle. They hissed and snapped, lunging toward her exposed arms and neck. She twisted and turned, dodging their bites, but their sheer number made it impossible to fend them all off.

Just as one of the snake heads darted toward her face, Jarik let out a furious shout and threw himself in its path. The snakes sank their fangs into him instead biting him at his most vital places, their venomous bites piercing his skin as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Jarik!" Arika cried, her voice breaking as she swung her spear with renewed fury.

The remaining warriors surged forward, their spear throwers firing in unison. Spear after spear struck the monster, finally hitting vital points. The beast let out a final, blood-curdling roar before collapsing in a heap, its snake tails writhing weakly before going still.

The warriors gathered around Arika and Jarik, their victory overshadowed by the scene before them. Jarik lay in Arika's arms, his breathing shallow and labored as the venom took its toll.

Arika's usual stoicism was gone, her face stricken as she cradled him. "You idiot," she muttered, her voice trembling. "Why would you do that?"

Jarik managed a weak laugh, his trademark grin flickering one last time. "not slow anymore huh?" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Arika let out a broken laugh, shaking her head as tears streaked her cheeks.

Jarik turned his head slightly, his gaze finding Darius, Ryden, and Rice. His dark brown eyes, usually so full of mischief, now held a quiet resolve. "You three…" he said, his words slow and deliberate. "You alright. Like brothers, Even if you slow."

Rice swallowed hard, his usual grin nowhere to be found. Ryden's jaw tightened as he gave a solemn nod. Darius, silent as ever, clenched his fists, his expression unreadable but his pain clear in the set of his features.

Jarik exhaled one last time, his body going limp in Arika's arms. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his loss pressing down on everyone present.

The warriors stood in somber silence, their earlier triumph forgotten.