It struck. The impact was wet and final. The arrow pierced straight into the lion head’s left eye.

  The beast screamed.

  The sound tore through the forest, layered and monstrous, pain echoing from every throat at once. The lion head reared back, blood pouring down its mane. The massive body staggered, crashing into trees.

  The ground shook violently. Harry did not lower the bow. He watched as the beast thrashed, clawing at its own face, roaring in fury and agony. The lion head shook wildly, its eye ruined, the arrow embedded deep.

  The beast stumbled, then dropped to one knee. The other heads shrieked, snarled, hissed. The snake head writhed violently. The human head screamed curses. The elephant head trumpeted in rage.

  Everyone’s breath ceased. No one moved. No one blinked. The beast lay slumped where it had fallen, its massive body half-collapsed, blood soaking into the forest floor. The arrow still jutted from the lion head’s ruined eye. Leaves drifted down slowly, settling on its back.

  Seconds stretched. Then the ground trembled. The beast shuddered, claws digging into the earth. Its body rolled, muscles bulging, and with a violent surge it forced itself upright. Blood ran down its face, steaming.

  “You did this to me,” it growled. The sound was deeper now. Thicker. Rage packed into every syllable. Its remaining right eye burned with fury as it fixed on the boys. “I will kill you all.”

  Fear broke through the group. Some crawled backward on their hands, boots scraping dirt. One boy whimpered. Another dropped his weapon entirely, fingers numb.

  “Did we go for the wrong head once again?” Max asked, his voice hoarse.

  Cole swallowed hard. “I guess we are all dead.”

  But Harry didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back. His left eye still glowed and fixed on ths beast with anger. The beast no longer looked at Max. Or Cole. Or any of the others. Its focus narrowed, sharp and singular.

  On Harry.

  With a roar, it charged. The ground shook as it sprinted, trees cracking as its body slammed through branches. Horns lowered. Claws tore trenches into the earth.

  “Harry run!” someone screamed.

  Harry didn’t. He reached back calmly, fingers closing around another arrow. No rush. No panic. He placed it on the string, feeling the familiar hum beneath his skin.

  The beast was close now. Too close. Everyone ceased their breath. Harry drew his arrow. The bowstring creaked under the strain. The world narrowed until there was nothing but the lion head. The remaining eye. Burning. Wild.

  He released it. The arrow struck dead center. It punched straight into the lion head’s right eye. The beast screamed. The sound shattered the air, raw and endless. It stumbled, momentum carrying it forward before its legs buckled. It crashed hard into the ground, rolling, smashing through undergrowth.

  Then it went still. The forest held its breath. The boys stared. Slowly, cautiously, smiles broke across bruised faces. Some laughed weakly. Others sagged against trees, legs giving out.

  For a few minutes, everyone exhaled sharply, believing it was over. Then the beast moved. It pushed itself upright again.

  This time its movements were wrong. Jerky. Blind. Both eyes ruined, it swung its massive body wildly, attacking without aim or direction. Horns sliced through empty air. Tails whipped trees to splinters. Claws raked at nothing.

  “Why is it not dead?” Larry shouted, backing away. Harry’s voice cut through the chaos. “Because the arrow was meant to blind it, not kill it.”

  He dropped the bow. Steel rang as he drew his sword. The beast charged blindly, smashing toward sound, toward movement. Harry turned and ran, boots thundering the earth, breath steady despite the chaos behind him.

  He led it straight toward a thick tree. At the last second, Harry planted a foot against the trunk, ran up the bark, then pushed off hard.

  His body arced through the air. He turned mid-jump, sword raised high, muscles screaming. Then he brought it down.

  The blade bit deep into the lion head’s neck. Bone cracked. Flesh split. The head tore free and hit the ground with a heavy thud.

  The beast staggered. “Now!” Harry shouted. The boys surged forward. Fear gave way to fury.

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  Blades flashed. Arrows flew at close range. They attacked together, shouting, striking, hacking. One head fell. Then another. The snake head writhed and snapped before being severed. The dog head howled once, then went silent.

  The beast thrashed wildly, weakening with each blow. At last, the final head dropped. The massive body collapsed.

  It did not rise again. Silence poured back into the forest, thick and heavy. One by one, the boys slumped to the ground, weapons slipping from numb hands. Chests heaved. Blood dripped. Sweat burned eyes.

  Harry stood apart. His glowing eye refused to fade. He turned suddenly and lunged toward Larry.

  Hands closed around Larry’s neck, slamming him against a tree. Bark dug into Larry’s back as his feet left the ground. “You can insult me all you want,” Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. “But one direct insult to my father will cost you your life.”

  Larry clawed at Harry’s wrist, choking. “I. I am sorry,” he forced out. “I only said that to make you angry.”

  Harry stared at him, jaw tight, breath heavy. Then he exhaled sharply. Slowly, he released him. Larry dropped to the ground, coughing, gasping, alive.

  Harry stepped back. The green glow in his eye finally dimmed. The forest remained silent.

  A Green Land student named Aaron did not join the others in their quiet celebration. While the rest of them slumped around the fallen beast, nursing bruises and staring at the corpse as if it might rise again, Aaron moved with purpose. He was lean, sharp-eyed, and unsettlingly calm. Without asking permission, he bent and gripped the severed snake head by its mane.

  The weight dragged grooves in the soil as he pulled it away. Max noticed first. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough.

  Aaron did not look back. He dragged the head to a clearing and began arranging stones in a circle. His hands moved quickly, practiced. “I am trying to revive Collins and Sammy.”

  A few boys laughed nervously. One shook his head. Another muttered, “They are gone. We have to move on.”

  Aaron ignored them.

  He turned back to the carcass and hacked free the snake head. Its fangs still glistened with venom. He carried it to the fire ring and fed it into the flames. The head blackened, curled, then crumbled. A sharp, bitter smell filled the air.

  The fire burned low. Aaron waited. When the head had turned fully to ash, he scraped the gray powder into his palm and walked to where Collins and Sammy lay motionless on the ground. Their skin had gone dull, lips tinged blue, bodies cold and slack.

  Aaron knelt. He smeared the ashes across their chests. Across their throats. Then he pressed some onto their lips, forcing their mouths open.

  The watching boys shifted uneasily. “They are gone,” someone whispered again, this time softer, like saying it might make it less frightening.

  Aaron reached into a small pouch tied at his waist and crushed a dark green herb between his fingers. Thick juice dripped out. He dabbed it onto Collins’ lips. Then Sammy’s.

  Harry watched from a distance. He sat apart from the others, back against a tree, arms resting on his knees. The glow was gone from his eye, but his head still throbbed. The weight of the day pressed down on him slowly, like a hand tightening around his chest.

  This wasn’t training anymore. This wasn’t a test. The forest was not impressed by bravery or titles. It only waited to drink their blood. The mission was a death sentence.

  The boys built more fires as night crept in. Flames flickered, shadows dancing across bruised faces. No one spoke loudly. Even laughter felt wrong here.

  Then Collins coughed. It was a small sound. Dry. Almost missed. Harry’s head snapped up. “He just coughed.”

  Every boy froze. Aaron did not look surprised. He pressed two fingers to Collins’ neck, eyes closed. “They will wake,” he said calmly. “They are still healing.”

  Hope rushed through the group like a sudden wind. Some laughed. Some wiped their faces. Someone whispered thanks to gods they barely believed in.

  They slept that night clinging to that hope. Harry did not sleep well. The forest felt closer after midnight. Sounds carried farther. Every crackle of fire, every rustle of leaves tugged at his nerves. When pressure finally woke him, he sat up slowly, heart already racing.

  He stepped away from the camp, careful not to wake anyone. The night air was cold. He relieved himself quickly, pouring the urine from his balls. His eyes scanning the darkness out of habit.

  That was when something moved above him. A branch creaked. A shape dropped lightly to the ground. A monkey stood a few steps away, small and thin, its eyes reflecting firelight that didn’t reach this far. It tilted its head, studying him.

  Harry frowned. Animals were common here. He turned to head back.

  “Benjamin Salim,” the monkey called.

  The whisper froze him mid-step. His spine stiffened. That name. Again. Slowly, Harry turned.

  The monkey walked closer, its movements unnervingly deliberate. “It is truly you,” it said. “You have returned.”

  Harry’s breath caught. His pulse hammered in his ears. “Who is Benjamin Salim?” he asked. “Why do you keep calling me that?” The monkey stopped.

  For a moment, it only stared at him. Then its face shifted, something like confusion passing through it. “You do not remember?” Harry shook his head. “No. Please. Tell me.”

  The monkey’s lips curled, not quite a smile. “Then there is no need talking about it.” It turned and leapt back into the trees.

  “No, wait!” Harry stepped forward, panic flaring. “Please do not go. I need to know.” Branches shook as the monkey vanished deeper into the forest.

  Harry took two more steps, then stopped. The darkness ahead felt thicker. He could almost feel eyes on him. Old. Patient. Fear gripped him hard enough to root his feet to the ground.

  He turned back. The campfires glowed faintly through the trees. Human sounds. Breathing. Life. Harry returned and sat near the fire, knees drawn up, staring into the flames until dawn crept in pale and quiet.

  Benjamin Salim.

  The name burned in his mind, refusing to fade.

  When morning came, Collins groaned. Sammy followed minutes later. Relief broke through the camp like sunlight. Aaron stepped back, watching as others rushed forward, helping them sit up, offering water, steadying shaking limbs.

  Harry stayed where he was, eyes distant. The forest had begun to whisper. And it knew him.

  “What happened?” Collins asked.

  Aaron crouched beside him, fingers still stained gray from ash and herbs. He spoke quietly, but every word landed like a stone. The fire. The venom. The waiting. Collins stared at his own hands while listening, flexing them as if unsure they still belonged to him.

  When Aaron finished, Collins said nothing. His jaw tightened. His eyes dropped. Whatever fire once lived there had drowned in something damp and heavy. Humility crashed on him as he realized that only unity will keep them far.

  The sun pushed through the trees, thin blades of light cutting the mist. The boys rose slowly, sore, stiff, silent. No one joked. No one argued. “We have to keep going?” Harry said.

  He unfolded the map. The parchment crackled in the morning air. His finger slid across inked lines and stopped. Northwest.

  They moved.

  Boots sank into wet soil. Leaves brushed their legs. A narrow stream cut across their path, water murmuring softly, deceptively calm. They crossed one by one, splashes swallowed quickly by the forest.

  Above them, unseen, something watched. At the far bank, the trees thickened. The light dimmed as if swallowed whole. The air turned cold. Heavy. The boys slowed without meaning to.

  A sound rolled through the forest. Low. Deep. A lion’s roar. Several boys spun around, weapons half-raised. Before breath returned to their lungs, the sound twisted. Bones popping. Breath hitching.

  A bleat followed. Confused. Wrong. They turned again. Then a voice spoke.

  Human. Too close. “They sent you here to die once again.” The words slid through the trees like a blade through cloth.

  Every boy froze. Fear crawled up their spines, prickling skin, locking joints. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath. “Who is there?” Sammy cried out.

  His voice cracked. The sound echoed once, then died.

  Silence pressed in.

  A shadow shifted between the trunks ahead. Not fully stepping out. Just enough to be seen. Tall. Still. Watching.

  Harry’s fingers tightened around his weapon. His heart slammed so hard it hurt. He scanned the trees, the ground, the shadows above. The voice had come from everywhere and nowhere.

  Leaves rustled behind them. Then to the left. Then overhead. The boys slowly turned in a circle, backs nearly touching, breath shallow, eyes wide.

  Another step. Closer. Branches creaked under deliberate weight. The shadow moved again. And this time, it smiled.