The Burning Path

"We got tracks leading in here!" one of the officials called out, dirtying the pristine white of their uniform as they knelt in the mud. 

The recent rainfall had softened the ground, leaving deep imprints in the earth—evidence of the rebels' passage.

Hera stepped forward, torchlight flickering across her sharp features as she examined the footprint. Her jaw clenched. These tracks were fresh. They were close.

She felt the familiar rush of anger coil in her chest. These were the people who had killed Kreel.

Kreel, who had taken her in when no one else would. Who had trained her, shaped her, taught her what it meant to survive in this world. 

He had been more than a mentor. More than an official. He had been the closest thing to family she had ever known.

And without a doubt, Hera had loved him. 

And they had slaughtered him like an animal.

She would make them pay. 

But she had to go into this forest? From what she knew, it was cursed. Would she dare risk it? 

"We enter the forest!" She shouted to the army behind her. 100 men, all armed to the teeth and ready to quell this rebellion once and for all. 

The officials silently obeyed, and Hera led them into the dark forest where their prey hid. 

*******

The god of the forest closed his eyes, listening. His kingdom whispered to him, roots trembling with distress, leaves shivering in warning.

The intruders had entered.

He could feel them moving like a sickness through the land, their boots crushing delicate seedlings, their blades slashing through vines that had taken years to grow. 

The scent of burning wood reached him, acrid and vile. Fire. They were using fire.

A chorus of silent screams echoed through him. The trees wailed. The undergrowth wept.

The god had worked so hard to protect them. He could not let that work go to waste.

His anger matched the forest's own. 

It was time to fight back. 

*******

"Find cover! Hurry!" Kael yelled. "Looks like we're about to have company."

The miners scattered, diving behind thick trunks and crouching beneath tangled roots.

Elysia remained at Kael's side, her grip tightening on the hilt of her pickaxe. 

Her eyes darted to the towering figure before them. 

The Soulless woman, the one Kael was only now laying eyes on for the first time, hung limply in the vines alongside Ryker. Though conscious, her gaze was vacant, as if she had long since accepted whatever fate had been forced upon her.

"Let them go!" Kael shouted up at the creature.

Its golden eyes flickered open. "Leave my domain now. Take your friends with you. You led those intruders in. You're going to lead them out too."

"And what will you do?" Elysia asked.

"I will confront them. They are like the others. They seek to destroy my kingdom. If they do not leave, I will slaughter every last one of them.

*******

Hera pulled her mask tighter around her face as smoke filled the air. 

The acrid scent of burning wood mixed with the damp rot of the forest floor, creating a suffocating atmosphere. It didn't matter. The forest would burn.

Most of the officials used torches while some who were specially equipped used flamethrowers, spraying red flames in a wide arc in front of them. 

In their wake, only burnt wood and smoking ash remained. 

Hera walked carefully through the smoldering remains, her boots crunching against charred debris. 

The heat licked at her legs, but she paid it no mind. Her hands remained clasped behind her back, her movements measured, purposeful.

She hadn't brought much with her on this mission. She didn't need to. 

She had soldiers, firepower, and most importantly, the weapon. 

The one that had passed through her family's lineage for generations. The one her father should have taken with him on his final mission into this cursed place.

Maybe if he had, he would have come back.

The officials in front of her came to a stop, and the sound of the flamethrowers ceased. 

Why are those idiots stopping?

Some of the officials took worried steps back. 

Hera's sharp eyes darted past them—and then she saw it.

A dark mass shifting in the haze of smoke. The absence of light where fire should have illuminated. 

A shape—impossibly large, with twisting limbs that were neither tree nor beast, but something else.

She could hear whispers on the wind, tiny voices that spoke with anger.

And then the forest moved. 

Trees bent, their branches curling toward the officials. Vines began to swing back and forth, now dangerously close. 

"Leave my kingdom," the figure commanded, his voice woven into the rustling leaves, into the trembling ground beneath their feet. "The ones you seek are gone. Follow them if you must. But your destruction is not welcome here."

For a moment, silence hung between them. The officials, tense and uncertain, gripped their weapons, exchanging wary glances.

Then Hera smiled. A slow, knowing grin curled her lips as a bitter realization settled over her.

So, this was it.

This was the reason her father had never returned. This was the thing that had consumed him all those years ago.

She should have suspected it from the start. The rumors, the legends—it wasn't just the rebels that needed to be stamped out. The very land itself was the enemy.

"Well," she called out, stepping forward, her boots sinking slightly into the scorched earth, "I don't think we will."

This wasn't just about revenge anymore. It wasn't just about finishing what Kreel had started.

This was personal.

Reaching to her back, she grabbed the weapon. 

It was a staff, nearly a meter long and shimmering gold even in the dim light, catching the flickering glow of the torches and the embers drifting through the air.

The staff had existed longer than the span of some history books. A weapon that her father had left behind for her.

A weapon made from the fragments of the Shattered Star. 

A weapon designed to kill gods.