The boys turned continuously. “Show yourself,” Collins groaned, notching his arrow. Yet the voice continues to torment them. laughing, the tree branch cracks, and an unsual breeze tore through the forest. “They sacrificed you to the forest once again just as they always do.”

  The words slid between the trees, soft and cruel. They didn’t land in one place. They brushed ears, crept down spines, pressed into the hollow behind the ribs. Every boy turned at once, then again, boots scraping over leaves, eyes darting, bows half-raised, swords wavering.

  “They sacrificed us?” Max asked. His voice came out thin, almost swallowed by the forest.

  “Do not take him seriously,” Harry said. “He is trying to mess with our minds.”

  Even as he spoke, his gaze kept moving. Left. Right. Behind. Above. His fingers tightened around his weapon, then loosened, then tightened again. The trees stood too still. The birds had gone quiet. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.

  The voice echoed another round of laughter. “Hahaha, young and gullible just like every others who had come and died. Do you think it was a mistake they sent you here, knowing you are most likely to die?”

  A shiver passed through the group. Someone swallowed loudly. Another boy shifted closer to Harry without realizing it. Collins lifted his bow higher, the string trembling beneath his fingers. “Why don't you show yourself?” he asked.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the ground seemed to sink. Branches bent outward as something massive pushed through them. Leaves tore free. Trunks creaked. A shadow rolled forward, swallowing what little light remained.

  Then a figure appeared. It was a massive beast. Bigger than an elephant. Yet the type the boys has never seen.

  Its back scraped branches high above their heads. Its limbs were thick and uneven, joints bending at angles that made the eyes hurt to follow. Its skin looked like bark and stone and flesh fused together. Breath thundered from it in heavy bursts, each one sending dust and leaves spiraling.

  The boys drifted back as one. “Who are you?” Aaron asked with a trembling voice.

  The beast’s mouth opened, wide and slow. Teeth like broken pillars caught the light. It laughed. The forest shocked.

  Trees shuddered. Birds exploded from hiding. The sound didn’t come from its mouth alone. It rolled through the roots, the trunks, the canopy. It pressed against their ears until some of the boys winced and clamped their hands over their heads.

  Then it paused. Its gaze now fixed on Harry. His eyes furrowed with confusion. Everything narrowed. The boys felt it, even before they understood it. The pressure shifted. The air tightened around Harry’s chest. His breath stalled halfway in. The beast’s eyes burned, not wild, but confused, sharp, and knowing.

  Harry did not step back. He couldn’t. His feet felt rooted to the soil. Then slowly it drifted back.

  The massive shape shrank. Bones folded inward. The towering back sank lower. Limbs thinned. Skin smoothed. Hair vanished. In the space of a few breaths, the monstrous presence collapsed into something small and wrong.

  The boys exchanged glances, unsure whether to run or strike. Then slowly the mighty beast phased into a tiny man.

  Naked.

  He stood there on the forest floor, bare skin pale against the dark earth, ribs visible, shoulders narrow. He should have looked weak. He didn’t. His eyes were the same. Ancient. Heavy.

  “Whoa!” the boys echoed. “Did it just turned into a man.”

  “How was he able to do that?” They whispered.

  No one asked it aloud. Their mouths were dry. Their tongues felt thick. The tiny man straightened, his movements calm, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

  The man's face remained fixed on Harry. “Benjamin Salim!” he whispered. The name slid out softly, almost tenderly.

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  Harry flinched once again. His shoulders jerked. His heart kicked hard against his ribs. “Benjamin Salim,” the boys whispered, the name passing through them like a cold draft.

  “There is no Benjamin Salim among us,” Collins said, looking at the boys’ faces one after the other. His voice tried to sound firm. It cracked anyway.

  The man shook his head slowly. “He didn’t tell you who he is?” he asked.

  “Who the hell are you talking about?” Cole roared. His shout felt small against the trees, swallowed before it could gather strength.

  The man raised his hand and pointed at Harry. “Him,” he said. “That is Benjamin Salim.”

  Every head turned. Harry stood there, suddenly exposed. The space around him felt wider, emptier. He could feel their eyes, questions pressing in from all sides.

  “What is he talking about?” Cole asked. Harry shook his head. “I do not know either.” The words felt thin as they left his mouth. He wished they sounded stronger. He wished they convinced even him.

  The beast took a step closer. The ground crunched softly beneath his bare foot. The boys flinched back as one, weapons lifting again, breaths quickening.

  “You do not know?” Harry shook his head again. His throat tightened. “Tell me about Benjamin Salim.”

  The man stopped moving. He studied Harry. His eyes traveled over Harry’s face, lingering on the brow, the eyes, the jaw. Then his gaze dropped, taking in the way Harry stood, the tension in his shoulders, the hesitation in his hands.

  Yes. The face was there. The voice too. The echo of something old and dangerous. But the boy lacked the boldness. He lacked the defiance. Benjamin Salim had burned when he stood. This one flickered.

  “He doesn't know who he is yet,” the man said to himself. The forest seemed to lean closer. “This is the best opportunity to kill him.”

  He raised his head towards Harry. “Forget it, I am going to kill you anyway.” Then he bent, placing both hands on the ground.

  Bones cracked like dry wood snapping in fire. Flesh folded inward. Hair burst through skin in dark waves. The air thickened with heat and rot. What stood before them was no longer a man but a dark wolf, towering, malformed, one shoulder higher than the other, its limp dragging a deep line across the soil. Its breath came out in slow clouds, each one stinking of blood.

  The boys jumped, scattered. Fear chose for them. Each began to run towards their direction, boots slipping, arms flailing, breath tearing from their lungs. No orders. No plans. Just instinct ripping them apart.

  Cole, Larry and Harry ran towards the east, branches slashing at their faces, roots reaching for their ankles. Max, Collins, Arron, Damien, and Frank ran toward the west, crashing through bushes, knocking each other aside in blind panic.

  Sammy ran back to where they were coming from. With him was Henderson. Hector and Gabriel.

  The rest of the boys ran forward, straight into the deeper dark, where the forest closed like a mouth. The beast stood for a heartbeat, head swiveling, ears twitching, tracking the chaos. It couldn’t chase them all. Its gaze fixed on Larry, then snapped toward Harry, then lost him in the swarm of bodies and trees. A low snarl rumbled in its chest. It chose.

  Therefore, it head west. The wolf burst forward, its limp vanishing as it ran, massive paws thundering the ground, shaking leaves loose from the branches. Its breath roared behind Max and his crew, close enough to feel on their backs.

  They ran.

  Minutes stretched like hours. Lungs burned. Throats tore. Sweat blinded them. The forest thickened, trunks crowding closer, light thinning until the world narrowed to dark greens and browns and the sound of their own terror.

  At some point, they paused to breath. Just for a second. Just long enough for hope to flicker.

  It didn’t take a second before the Massive Werewolf appeared in front of them. It landed from above, crashing down through branches, blocking the path. Leaves exploded outward. The ground trembled under its weight. Its eyes locked onto them, bright and hungry.

  Collins didn’t think. He notched his arrow in desperation, and released it with so much accuracy his arms screamed from the force. The arrow cut clean through the air.

  The wolf twisted its body mid-motion, impossibly fast. The arrow missed, slicing past fur and burying itself deep in a tree.

  Then the wolf lunged at him.

  It crossed the distance in a blur. Its head snapped sideways and struck Collins by his face. Fang scraped flesh. Blood sprayed. Collins was thrown aside like a broken doll, crashing into the undergrowth. His scream tore out of him, raw and high.

  Frank stumbled, spun, raised his bow with shaking hands. He notched his arrow and struck. The arrow flew wild.

  The wolf ignored it. It turned towards Cole. Its limp returned, exaggerated, mocking, as it limped on him. Then it sprang.

  Its fangs sank into Cole’s left leg. The sound was wet. The fang went deep and when it came out, it came with flesh.

  Cole screamed. Blood gushed from his body, hot and unstoppable, soaking the ground, splattering the wolf’s chest. His leg buckled. He collapsed, clawing at the dirt.

  The rest of the boys didn’t wait. They bolted. Feet thundered. Branches snapped. No one looked back.

  The wolf released Cole and turned, eyes blazing, saliva dripping red. It chose the moving prey. It chased after them. They ran into a thicker forest.

  The light died there. The air grew colder. The ground dipped and rose without warning. Then the trees bent once, unnaturally, branches arching inward.

  A snap echoed. Something tightened around Max’s ankle.

  Ropes sprang from the shadows, rough and fast. They caught Max mid-stride and yanked him upward. His body flipped violently. His scream ripped out of him as he was dragged into the air.

  “Max!” Damien screamed.

  Max screamed back, his voice cracking, arms flailing, blood rushing to his head. “Help me!” He swung wildly, boots kicking empty space. The rope bit into his skin. Pain shot up his leg in blinding waves.

  Damien skidded to a stop and spun. His chest heaved. His eyes locked on Max, hanging upside down, terror frozen on his face.

  Damien drew his sword. Steel rang as it left the sheath. He lunged toward the rope, hands shaking, teeth clenched, raising the blade to strike.

  “Forget it,” Collins said, his voice heavy with fast breathing, blood pouring down his face as he staggered forward. “Before you achieve that purpose, the monster will be here.”

  A deep growl rolled through the forest. Close. Too close.

  Damien froze. His grip tightened on the sword. His shoulders sagged. He looked at Max. Then at the trees behind them.

  Then at the blood on Collins’ face. Damien sighed, recognising the truth in what Collins has said. He put back his sword and turned to run.

  “Please!” Max cried. “Do not abandon me!” His voice cracked on the last word. But the boys didn’t listen. They bolted once again, leaving Max to his fate.

  The boys continued to run. Another rope came and caught Collins. The rope drew him up. Collins screamed. “Please help me, cut down the rope.” Aaron drew his sword but didn’t cut down the rope. “Forgive me, Collins. The advice you gave minutes ago applies to you now.”

  Then turned and bolted. Both Aaron and Frank. Collins kept on screaming. “Do not leave me alone.” But the boys were far gone. And for the first time, Collins began to cry like a baby.

  The rope bit into his ribs as it lifted him higher. Bark scraped his back. Leaves slapped his face. He swung, helpless, boots kicking at nothing. The forest rushed past him in blurs of green and brown. His scream thinned into a hoarse rasp. He tried to grab the rope, but his hands slid, skin burning. Blood dotted the fibers.

  The forest answered him with silence.

  Then the silence cracked.

  Branches bent. Heavy. Deliberate. Something large moved through the undergrowth, not rushing, not hiding. Collins’ breath stuttered. He twisted, craning his neck. The rope creaked. The world tilted.